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elliedearest · 4 months

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Do you take requests?! If so.. Imagine being a student of professor snape's (or fellow teacher if you're not comfortable with that) and always being a bit cheeky such as chucking in innuendos during class, leaning in really close to him, cornering him in dark hallways to ask 'educational related questions' and one day when you're both alone you basically end up just jumping each other's bones? Thanks!!

I meant to answer this with a story when I first received this request, but roughly afterward JK showed her true colors and I lost all interest in writing anything for HP. However, I didn’t want to delete it because you took the time to request this and I felt guilty.

So I thought I would share how I would have handled this request.

I’d make the reader a fellow teacher and set during the Triwizard Tournament so they’re a foreign teacher. I’d think it’d be hilarious if the reader was from Beauxbatons because, after the dancing display, he might write them off as silly and frivolous and not worth any attention. Though to be fair, he doesn’t like Durmstrang either.

The reader is friendly and flirts as frequently as they breathe and hardly mean anything by it. If they can flirt with Dumbledore, they can flirt with anyone. This, of course, doesn’t win them any favors or good opinions from Snape but the reader doesn’t know. He’s not really on the reader’s radar until a random day in October when the reader is having a lovely conversation with some of the Hogwarts staff when they tell the reader about Snape being notoriously hard to make smile or even seduce. The reader is intrigued but doesn’t think much of him until they actually have an encounter with him.

He’s not condescending which would have immediately made him enemy number 1 in the reader’s eyes, but he was slightly rude. There was something amusing about the Potion Professor’s attempt at showing decorum (Because McGonagall will kill him if he ruins relations with the schools when she coordinated most of this with the Ministry) but also showing his disdain. The reader casually throws him a flirty line to see what he would do and they’re amazed at how quickly his face blanks like an unused canvas.

And then he walks away.

The little interaction was amusing but the reader moves on with their life because they have students to take care of in a foreign place. They do, however, wink or flutter their fingers at him when they pass each other in the halls but the reader doesn’t approach him again.

The reader, however, is put in a situation where they need a potion done for a class and while they have most of the ingredients and are fairly decent in potions, it requires an advance and steady hand. They go to Snape. As payment, the reader brings a cactus to him(a cactus is great for many medical potions from detox or purifying the air to lowering blood pressure and cholesterol). Snape does it for them and the reader cannot resist flirting with him a bit. Snape gives them a sharp but witty reply that has them laughing.

This moment opens the floodgates for the reader. They decide to actively flirt with Snape. Not necessarily as a challenge but the reader wants to see what kind of response they’ll get the next time. It goes on for weeks. The reactions range from eye rolls, acerbic quips, a blank stare, a glare, etc. etc. During this time, they do end up hanging with each other more and more first out of necessity (there’s a lot of potions needed for what the reader does and the carriage is not the best place to do them in so the reader uses the potion room) and then out of a tentative comradeship.

The student body and the professors quickly become aware of the crazy wixen that is flirting with the Potions Professor. The Weasley twins have monetized on the situation and are making a lot of money from students guessing how this would end. Some think Snape would hex them when he got tired of the Beauxbatons professor, most think he will humiliate them so badly that the professor will head back to France.

No one thinks Snape will flirt back. Except one.

People were expecting something to happen at the Yule ball, but the two professors didn’t interact at all. Snape spent his time prowling the courtyards, ruining make-out sessions. While the reader was stuck in their room, finally succumbed to sickness because of the harsh Scotland conditions.

He visits them later, once all the children are in bed, with potions to help alleviate their symptoms. The reader is grateful. He’s slightly uncomfortable with the gratitude and tries to leave quickly. The reader stops him asking if he would stay for a bit. They hadn’t seen anyone in two days and they were growing bored of sleeping all day. Snape begrudgingly stays.

The reader asks what he had done at the Yule ball and laughs when Snape informs them about being forced to dance with Trelawney. He accidentally mentions the students he caught messing around and prepares himself to be flirted with, but the reader doesn’t take it. Instead, the reader asks if he was using the cactus they gave him. Snape is surprised but tells them about the potions he’s working on and the thief he has this year who keeps stealing his potion ingredients. The reader tells him they’ll keep an eye out.

The reader decides to stop flirting with the guy after they hear a conversation between Snape and Dumbledore. The reader never wanted to make him uncomfortable now that they consider him a friend. So, they stop. They’re still friendly and still hang out with him in his potions room, but no more romantic undertones.

Snape is completely thrown off by this and sends him into a spiral that he doesn’t understand. He should be happy but he’s not. It goes on for weeks and he’s starting to miss it.

They’re in the staff room. The reader is grading papers while Snape is trying and failing to read his book. Snape approaches them and asks if they want to play chess with him when they’re done. The reader immediately agrees, wanting to take a break from grading, and joins him on the other side of the room. He attempts to flirt with them midway through the game.

At first, the reader doesn’t register what’s going on, but then he does it again with this look in his eyes, and then, the reader understands. They’re completely floored. And flustered. Snape is smug by this. Doubly so when he also wins the game.

Snape decides to turn the tables on the reader and finds it intoxicating and fun how flustered the reader gets. He ends up kissing them in his storage closet when they suggest a dark and barely legal spell to track whoever has been stealing from his closet.

“If I’d known it only took listing dark spells to you to get this kind of reaction, I would have done it so much sooner,” the reader said breathlessly, before pulling him into another kiss.

And they live happily ever after!

Until the Dark Lord rises.

(As for the bet, all the students and staff that took part lost, except for Dumbledore. He bet that Snape would return the flirtation.)

#anonymous request #fanfiction request #HP #Severus snape #HP fanfiction #Severus snape fanfiction #severus snape x reader #fanfiction #I hope you enjoy this #elliedearest answers #i am honest #elliedearest talks #Also JK Rowling can go fuck herself #This household hates Terfs

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bisexual-horror-fan · 29 days

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"Feast." Vilmer Slaughter and Darla Slaughter X FEM! Reader.

Hey, hey, hey! It's Multi-May! Here we fucking go, another entry ready to go! A gift fic for a very speical someone in my life that has now been converted to be reader insert friendly. I hope you all enjoy this fucked up triads formation.

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 5.4K. Vilmer Slaughter And Darla Slaughter X FEM! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Canonical TCM Things (Violence, Gore, Cannabalism.) Teasing. Banter. Making Out. Fingering. Cunnlingus. Vilmer Is An Asshole. Vaginal Sex. Face Sitting. Cum Eating. Thigh Riding. Overstimulation. Multiple Orgasms. Dirty Talk. Threesome.

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You are putting items you want to bring home into your bag, the sound across the room pulls your attention to her. The sound of her chair moving, of her standing, you catch the very pleasant sight of her stretching, hands above her head, fingers interlaced, eyes closed and a sigh crossing her lips. She was standing just far enough out from her desk you get the full effect, eyes dragging from well manicured fingers, to her well styled hair, painted features. The small arch of her back and the way her ample chest caused the buttons of her blouse to strain just a hair, down the tight and short skirt that hugged her hips and thighs, down the long, long shapely legs, hot enough today she had forgone pantyhose, to the tall, almost precarious heels she walked so well in.

The lines her body created were endlessly appealing, the soft glint of gold jewellery in the low light-

“You good, sweetheart?”

Your eyes snapped back up to her face, she wasn’t stretching any longer, you’d lingered too long, her hands were on her hips and her lips were stretched in a smile, pretty white teeth on display. You continue shoving your things back in your bag, eyes dropping and trying to will your face to not burn in shame over your embarrassment in being caught gawking at her. With a clearing of your throat, you say, “Yeah, I’m great.”

She hums unconvinced, you hope she drops it.

Silence overtakes for a moment.

You think you might get away with it until she speaks up again, “Because I think I saw you staring at me, pretty intensely, at that, sugar.”

Shit. Shit. Fuck.

“Was I?” You ask, voice pitching higher than it probably should be, you have all your items back in your bag, but you are rooting around in it, pretending to look for your keys, even though you know just where they are.

You feel the weight of her stare. Finally, you look up, eyes meeting hers and the staring contest between you both across the room is held for almost a hair too long before she breaks, smile back and a laugh, “I’m fucking with you.”

You smile back. Of course, she was, you laugh with a shake of your head.

Standing up, pushing your chair out, slinging your bag over your shoulder, you say, “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

You say this even knowing that there is a good chance she will call you tonight, it has been just long enough that she could call you anytime. “Yeah tomorrow, angel.”

She hums it sweetly, that smile, slight cock of her head, and you both leave, she turns the lights off on the way out, locks the door and you both step away, walking towards your cars parked next to each other. A small hushed, “Night.” leaves you and her responding, “G’night.”

The silence has overtaken, not heavy, but present between the both of you as you unlock your car and get in, the door slams in time with hers, both of you turn on your cars, headlights come on, you want to glance her way, you want to wave goodbye, but you’ve already technically said goodnight. Any more would be overkill and maybe read as desperate, and even though you're sure you were, you didn’t want to come across that way.

You pull out, and you go down the road one way, she goes down the other.

Even when going in opposite directions, your mind is on her.

The friendship between you both grew quickly, naturally, since you started working together. She didn’t interview you, someone else did, you got the job and started, and she helped train you. Sweet and kind, funny, warm, she showed you the ropes and you and her talked over lunches, gleeful conversation made over tuna salad sandwiches and ants on a log and apple slices and whatever else was in your lunch bag and hers. She would bring her chair to your desk, set up camp, sit with you, beside you, talk and talk.

That’s how it started, anyway. Friendly. Innocent.

It turned much less so when he came into the picture.

Curiosity about him was struck early, during the times when she would talk to him on the phone, calling him up asking him in that slightly more seductive timbre to go here or there or, “Could you please do this for me handsome?”

You’d heard many times her side while she was on the phone but once, she had to step out, something she had to see to, and you needed to be the one to call him, she’d left her Rolodex, the numbers you might need and when a tow was required and couldn’t wait, an accident blocking an arterial road, it was on you to make the call.

Picking up the phone, fingers dial nearly on autopilot and after three rings the line comes to life with his voice, the first time you’ve heard it, “Darla darlin’ where d’ you need me to go now?”

He calls her darling? You don’t let it throw you, not stumbling, correcting him, “Uh no sorry, not Darla, she’s stepped out but I need you to go to the corner of Main and Jefferson, there’s been an accident near the bank, it’s blocking everything, need you to haul a car away.”

At the silence that greets, you tack on a small, “Please?”

“Oh it's you, the other office worker! Shoot, finally gettin’ to talk to ya, Darla’s mentioned you plenty. Sure, I can do that, sweets.” You can hear the smile in his voice, and it makes you do so in kind, you tell him, “Thank you so much! Uhm, give a shout when it’s clear?”

The question is met with an affirmative hum and a confident, “Definitely, I’d loooove to talk to you again, I’ll call you when it’s done, buh-bye for now.”

The click rings out and the line goes dead. You are still holding to your ear, thinking that the “buh-bye” sounded very fucking flirty. You thought he was just like that with Darla, or was he like that with everyone?

When Darla came back you filled her in, and she beamed at you, “Ooh, thank you so much for calling Vilmer while I was out, that was the right thing to do, I knew I could count on you!”

Her praise pours over you thick and sweet as honey, and you feel warm.

The drive to your place that evening feels shorter than normal, with your mind running as it had been, soon you are in your driveway and getting out of your car. You take the three steps up to your front porch with your keys still in your hand, the door is unlocked and opened, it’s shut behind you and the usual evening routine is kicked off.

Bag is dropped, keys in the bowl on the table by the door, shoes off, and you stalk towards the bathroom. It was a hot day, you needed a shower, desperate to wash away the grime and sweat of the day. You go into the bathroom, light clicks on, shower turned on, letting the water sit on the cooler side, you want to be clean but not overheat more than you already were. Clothes are stripped in short order and left in a heap at your feet, you click on the radio you keep in the bathroom, let the music of your favourite station fill the small space, turning it up so you can hear it over the sound of the water once you got into the shower. You get in, a slight shiver as the water runs over you, “Fuck-”

A small curse, it feels good, but it is a tad too cold, you adjust the tap and then your body sags in relief, a sigh as you lean further into it, letting the spray get your hair wet. You take your time cleaning yourself up, feeling much better by the time the water is shut off, and you are drying yourself. You dry your hair while in your robe and soon enough you are getting your currently open bottle of wine from the fridge, you pour a glass and then are on the couch, relaxing, not wanting to get up to make dinner quite yet.

In your very relaxed state, you unintentionally end up dozing off.

Before you fell asleep you had been thinking about them, dreaming about them was only natural and what you had dreamt of was the last time you went over to their place.

Flashes of memories slip over your unconscious mind all about the terrifying tour you experienced. You recall being shown around the almost hoarder level house filled with broken machinery, almost falling apart in places, cracked and filthy baseboards, busted up windows, parts of bodies that were in such a state of decay you weren’t sure what parts they used to even be.

Eventually you are seated at the table, the food they presented was, visually interesting to say the very least, but you are a good guest, and you don’t want to be rude.

You don’t even know what the food is that they put in front of you, and you don’t ask.

Typically, in dreams you can’t taste food, but you can taste it here, clear as day, you can never forget how it tasted, thick fat, well seasoned and salted, butter soft, the knife slides through it easily, it tastes and acts like pork and so you tell yourself that is exactly what it is. Even though the longer you’ve spent with them and the more you get to know them, the less and less sure you are on that.

The meal isn’t where it ended, there was some more terrorising, and it was intense, a lot, and the most inexplicable thing? Is that you were allowed to leave after that night. The sun rose, and you ended up walking out of there, shoes in your hand, a bit dirty and worse for wear, exhausted and also unexplainably wet.

Loud ringing from the phone is what makes you start awake, it takes you a moment, looking around a bit confused trying to get your bearings, you’d fallen asleep on the couch, still wrapped in your blanket. You struggle to get out of the tangled, fuzzy covering and miss the phone by one ring. You sigh and think, “Oh well.”

You curse yourself figuring it was Darla, you never miss her calls, you could call her back, but you had a feeling that it might not go over well. You leave it be.

After pouring yourself another drink and changing your robe for some clothing, a cropped tank and some shorts, you start on making yourself some dinner, nothing crazy or elaborate, a go-to lazy meal, but you were home alone, who were you trying to impress?

A half hour later, right around when you were plating up, there was a knock at the door.

Curious.

You of course go to the door and open it and are totally startled to see Vilmer and Darla standing there.

Vilmer spoke up first, “You avoiding us?”

You knew it was them calling now for sure, your words almost stumbling over your tongue in your haste to reply, “Oh! No, I just…I missed your call, M’ sorry-”

“S’ fine.” He responds but the look is still harsher than you’d like in his eyes, you aren’t sure what to say.

Silence.

He breaks it by asking, “You gonna invite us in?”

Jesus, where is your head at. You grip the doorknob and open the door wider, stepping aside and gesturing with your other hand, “Course, please come in.”

They come in, Darla is wearing a different outfit than she was earlier, a dress, tight, clingy, different heels, sparse but chunky jewellery, she looks stunning and well put together. You feel a little underdressed in your comfy lounge wear compared to her, next to Vilmer? Not so much, he was still dressed from work.

Vilmer strides in first, Darla behind him, your eyes follow him as he strolls in like he owns the place, looking around, you don’t take your gaze from him as you close the door, but then Darla’s hand brushes your forearm. “Hey sweetheart, love the shorts.”

You could feel yourself flush just a little, a small shrug as you say, “Don’t look half as good as you.”

But who does? You thought to yourself as your eyes flick over her quickly, trying not to linger or leer.

You hear a scoff and your head snaps in the direction, Vilmer has made his way into your kitchen, you tear away, Darla laughs and follows, the click of her smart stilettos sound on the hardwood behind you as she trails along. You find Vilmer looking at your pot you had on the stove, a strong calloused hand has the pot handle in his grip, he is moving it around with a look that could be read as mild confusion and disgust.

“Can I help you?” It slips out more playful than harsh, you fight to make sure that is the case, your hands rest on your hips, and he looks over at you, asking with raised brows, “This the kinda shit you eat when we don’t have you over?”

You don’t have time to defend yourself because Darla does, she is behind you in the doorway, her hands on your shoulders as she says, “Oh fuckssake, lay off her Vilmer-”

“Darla you ain’t even seen this shit-” He argued, face creasing slightly in a mix of anger and annoyance, shaking the pot, and she bit back, “I don’t have to, s’not like you’re any kinda cook worth writin’ home about!”

“Why you gotta act like such a bitch in front of other people?!” He fires at her, and she sounds like she is sneering, “Stop acting like a bitch first, and maybe I’ll consider it.”

“You act like this an’ I gotta step up in response! It makes me out to be some kinda asshole-”

You aren’t paying much attention because in their spat, he dropped the pot onto one of the now off burner, he has come forward, pinning you between Vilmer and Darla, both significantly taller than you, fighting over your head. You feel the differences between them. The strong wall of his chest and the smell of him from working all day, thick and masculine, a mix of sweat and musk and oil, and her, behind you, sharp nails in your shoulder, soft curves, the ends of her hair tickling your bare upper arms, and she smells floral, a little sweet, but not cloying.

You start to squirm, you are feeling flustered being so close to the pair while they are getting so heated. Do they fight like this all the time? The thought enters your mind, of them fighting, and it's escalating, turning to ripping off clothes and a struggle for dominance, one of them pinning and then riding the other into oblivion-

Wait.

It’s quiet. Too quiet, the fighting has stopped.

You look up from his face to hers, and they are both staring you down. Her hands wander before his, a slow meander, an offering, testing the waters. The sharp edges of her nails trace down your bare arms, goosebumps spring up in response, you shiver slightly and the more neutral and curious expression she had morphs into a smile. It is that same smile that makes you melt, warm, showing off her teeth. Her hands continue moving, fingers over the bare portion of your stomach, close to the hem of your cropped tank and Vilmer steps in, or rather, forward.

His mechanically altered leg is between yours and your eyes go wide, dropping to look at the new point of contact he was creating, the light brush of well-worn frayed cottony canvas of his coveralls on your sensitive inner thighs sends small sparks through you that make your fingers twitch. Darla’s hands hadn’t stopped, she was cupping your chest, and you leaned into her touch just as Vilmer adjusted, pressing his knee up to your clothed cunt, your bottom lip caught in your teeth. He rocks his knee forward once, and you let out a small moan, and he finally comments, “Oh, she’s cute.”

“Isn’t she?” Darla muses, and Vilmer hums, he moves his leg again, more pressure, and he says, “And passive too, she’s just lettin’ us do this-”

“She obviously likes it.” Darla whispers, you shiver and Vilmer piped up, “Betcha she’d let us do whatever we want-” He turns his attention from looking at Darla over your shoulder, to your face, “-wouldn’t ya?”

He doesn’t wait for a response however, choosing to hook calloused fingers in one of the straps of your tank top, he uses it to move you, drag you away, almost like it’s a leash, tugging you towards the table in the small breakfast nook, tucked between the kitchen and living room. Darla allowed him to do this, watching amused as he shoves you onto the hardwood surface, the napkin holder jostles, the salt and pepper shakers knock over, and he touches you again. A rough hand cups you, fondling through the thin material of your top, he all but groans, “God, she’s soft.”

“I know.” Darla sighs, “S’ hard not to touch her at work all the time. She’s just begging for it.” She had come over to join him, her fingers brushing your outer thigh before gripping harder, fingers digging into plush skin. Your nipples are responding to his rough treatment, the pinching and twisting and pawing, your legs spread on instinct as she plays, and you look up at them, you want more, want to ask, but the words are hard to find. Part of you wants to see what they will decide to do with you on their own, so you hold your tongue.

The pair of them don’t stop playing, they do start kissing. A possessive messy thing as she toys near the top of your shorts and his fingers suggest the idea of finally getting some real skin on skin contact going. His tongue goes into her mouth first and her hand is cupping you between your thighs, your hips stir, push into her, needy, and he pushes up your shirt, he breaks the kiss with a lustful sound that makes you tense, “Fuck, look at that.”

You are sure the view of you is a good one. Your short little shorts hugging you just so, tits on display, hair spilling over the table, face flushed and eyes practically pleading to be touched.

“You are killing me.” Your hands were up near your head, he pressed his hips forward, clothed erection now up against the side of your fingers, letting you feel what you had done to him.

You are killing him? You feel like you’re the one dying, your panties feel plastered to you from how wet you are, your neglected clit throbbing for some serious attention, as if sensing that Darla’s fingers find their way into your shorts, trace up over the soaked defined slit and press. The timing is just so, the increased pressure exactly over your clit makes you want to melt into the table-top below, the moan that rips from your throat makes him pulse so hard you feel it through the layers of fabric.

“Okay, I can’t take much more a this teasin’ shit.” His hands come up, and he opens his coveralls in one smooth motion, your eyebrows raise at the exposed skin, fuck he was toned, eyes move down his chest and stomach but as you follow those lines over his hip bones, that defined V, your breath catches, he isn’t wearing anything else under it. Where you’d expect to see the band of whatever underwear he’d prefer, you see the beginnings of dark honey toned rough hair. His hand slips in and a firm grip on his base, and he pulls himself free, hard cock very close to your face, you can see the pre-cum glistening at the tip and the ridges of veins running along his shaft.

“She needs to lose these damn shorts next.” Darla wastes no time, fingers hook, and she says, “C’mon, help me out.” You rush to arch your hips, and she pulls your shorts and panties off with little effort, discarding them.

This is all happening so quickly, but somehow still not fast enough, or that is the brief thought that you had before you felt Darla’s mouth on you. Fingers seemed like the natural progression, her touching you softly and easily, instead you felt the warmth of her breath and the slight dampness of her saliva on your inner thigh. You look down and see her between your thighs, lips dragging up, lipstick imprints on your pale skin, you squirm, heat flaring much brighter inside of you.

Vilmer, ever impatient, takes your hand and brings it to him, wraps your fingers around his shaft as he asks, “You can multi-task, can’t you sugar?”

A quick glance up to him, and you say, “Ye-yeah of course I can-” Darla picks that moment, while you are distracted to make her move, leaning up and in closer, her lips pressing to your soaked core, and you jerk with a moan, “Fuck!”

Vilmer snaps his fingers, causing you to jump as he says firmly, “Focus.”

“Right! Sorry.” You start to move your hand, starting to jerk him off, rhythm is a little clumsy because Darla is starting in on you properly, her tongue is running from your leaking hole, up, and up and when she passes over your clit you let out this shuddering moan, eyelids becoming heavy, vision unfocused. You have to keep your hand moving, you do all you can do to keep the motion going, but Darla isn’t making it easy.

She moans against you from the taste, eyes falling closed as she slides her tongue back and forth over the most sensitive part of you, she is doing some slow circles but as you respond, shift and moan, it’s like it becomes harder to keep composure. She gets messier with it, sloppy, so into it, you can feel her breathing harder, hot puffs of air against your lower stomach from her nose as she buries herself deeper, gets closer.

Your hand tightens, grips harder and Vilmer responds positively from the change, “God yeah, you don’t gotta be gentle.”

That helps, you grip harder, the rougher touch and more friction seemingly makes up for your lack of finesse at the moment. You are moaning from the pleasure rolling through your body, trying to hold on, you need more of a distraction honestly, so you make a move of your own. You lean forward and put your own mouth to work, tongue flicking over the tip of his dick, he stiffens, moans louder, “Fuck yesss-” His hand finds your hair, twists and tugs, “Keep goin’, jus like that dolly.”

It encourages you, lets the pleasure go a bit more on the back burner, you swirl your tongue over the head of his dick and get sloppy, similarly to how Darla was. You kiss messily, lick and suck, let drool slip out and use it, your hand is working his shaft, keeping your mouth busy with the head of his cock. You moan against him as she is practically eating you alive, drinking straight from your cunt and seemingly loving every drop.

“You both look incredible.” Vilmer breathes, and you want to preen from the praise, the pleasure stops short, Darla is getting up, standing, she leans over, a manicured hand on Vilmer’s shoulder, and she pulls him close. She kisses him, shares the taste of you with him, and you keep going, eyes on them making out as you continue giving him a spit slick hand job that was just getting wetter from the amount of drool coming from your over excited mouth.

He is the one who pulls back, hand leaving your hair, “Get back, I gotta fuck her.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, Darla gives an indulgent smile and steps aside, your hand falls away, and he gets into position, between your spread legs, one hand rests on your knee and the other grips the base of his shaft. You are nearly trembling with want, beyond ready for this, you feel him press up against your hole, there isn’t any easing into it, as soon as he is lined up he is pushing in, rough and hard, making you take him, and it causes your back to arch with a moan. The stretch burns but in a way that feels more good than bad, sensation that makes it harder to breathe, you want more all the same. He doesn’t stop until his hips are flush against you, and he is buried totally inside, he pulls out about halfway before thrusting back in, and you gasp out, “Vil-Vilmerrr-”

“You ain’t leaving me outta this.” You glance over to see Darla hiking up her dress and holy fuck she isn’t wearing anything under it, you see how wet her thighs are just from eating you out and watching what you did to Vilmer and your eyes go wide. She joins you on the table, one leg swings over, she is on her knees over your face and your hands reach up to rest on her hips, you tug her down, mouth watering once again, desperate for a taste.

She sits on your face and once she is settled, and you have traced through her folds just once, Vilmer’s patience has officially run out, he thinks you’ve gotten adjusted plenty and starts to find his rhythm fucking you. It’s a hot and pleasure filled blur, the taste of Darla is heady, makes your head swim, you can hear her moaning your name above, you are glad you are holding onto her because the way Vilmer is fucking you is causing your entire body to rock with the movement, the table is shifting, you don’t give a shit if it breaks from under you.

“Christ, she’s tight, s’ a fuckin’ fight to keep in her.” Vilmer is really able to give it to you, can hear the mechanical movements of his leg, the extra strength and leverage it provides, putting in a lot of the work. His hands grip your waist, and he grits out, “An’ how much she’s squirming ain’t helping neither.”

Darla reaches back, fingers fist in your hair, and she tugs, “Try to keep a bit more still sweetheart and don’ stop what you are doing with your tongue right now, holy shit-” She gasps and grinds her hips down, and you try to listen to them both, but fuck it is hard as Hell.

They are both using your body for their respective pleasure, and you don’t think there is a single place you’d rather be. You are just getting to a point you think you have a handle on it when you feel it, Vilmer’s hands lift, you guess you stopped squirming enough, one of his hands is under your knee and the other one is between your legs and his thumb presses to your clit. You moan into the wetness covering your mouth, eyes rolling back as your legs jerk, “Hold on.”

He picks up the pace, fucks you much harder, thumb rubbing up and down over your clit and the edge creeps up, builds much faster than you are prepared for, your mouth slows, but Darla takes over, helps out. Her hands are on your chest, and she is grinding her cunt on your mouth, you can hear her moans getting louder, you think she is close, sounds like she is going to cum before you can. You refocus, your impending orgasm backs off just a bit as you put all your energy into redoubling your efforts with your mouth, it works, you hear her all but yell, a crying call of how good it feels, a plea to keep going, and it encourages you, finally, you are rewarded after another minute, she cums against your lips and chin, her head pitching forward and her body shuddering with your name on her tongue.

Your mouth slows and your body starts to play catch up, it’s going to happen and there is nothing you can do to stop it, feeling almost light-headed, Darla’s orgasm has subsided, she slides off of your face. You take a deep gulping breath of air and on the exhalation it happens, you tip over the edge and cum. Vilmer forces himself deep inside, as if worried you’d force him out during your own orgasm, he grinds more into you rather than thrusting in and out, his thumb keeps stroking over your clit, working you through it. Your mouth is a mess, soaked with Darla, as you are nearly sobbing a strange mixture of their names so loudly you are thankful your neighbours live so far and won’t hear you.

Finally, the pleasure stops and pain and more overstimulation starts to set in, you try to knock Vilmer’s hand away and beg for a breather, “No way, M’ not far off, not stopping till I fill you up.”

Darla was on her knees by your head, she brushes some hair off your sweat slick forehead, “Yeah, don’t you want that?”

You did, dear God you did, you nod, an incoherent moan of the affirmative, Darla touches you softly, plays with you, gentle rolling of your nipples, light circles on your hypersensitive clit. “God she’s fuckin’ good, wild little thing, gonna have to do this again an’ again-”

His praise sinks into your bones, his pace is getting sloppy and uneven, you are mumbling out a weak and rambling chant, “Again an’ again, please, please, please-”

“We will don’t worry, many times as you want.” She assures, and he grits out, “Fuck, gonna cum.”

There’s no time to beg because he is, holding to the hilt he unloads in you, head hanging forward with a groan you feel the warmth spill into you. The shudder that runs up your spine isn’t something you can help.

Catching your breath and untangling takes a while.

But soon enough you find yourself on the couch with him. It had started innocently, you leaking cum, sitting next to him, his arm around your shoulders as he was praising you, talking about how good you felt wrapped around him, how much he liked the sounds you made, somehow it had transitioned to him toying with you again.

Darla is in the kitchen making something for you all to eat and here he is, having you perched on his mechanically enhanced leg, making you ride his thigh, because according to him, “Cummin’ just once is unacceptable baby, you gotta at least one more time, my ego jus’ won’t settle for less. You understand, yeah? C'mon now, don't keep me waitin’, I know you want to-”

The command is spoken into the hollow of your throat, the drag of his lips, the slight scrape of the very minimal stubble is doing everything for you, cumming again so soon should usually be impossible, but he is too good, plus there is some setting on his leg setup that has it vibrating against you, and you are finding yourself shaking through another peak just as Darla is bringing your food in.

“Awe he wringin’ nother one outta you? He’s being so generous tonight.” She coos, her heels are off now, she sits on the couch next to you, watching your tired body roll and work through your second orgasm of the evening. You slump against him, and he is stroking up your back, “Good fuckin’ girl, so loud too, I love it, could listen to you all night.”

Darla nudges you and takes your wrist, she pushes the plate into your hand, and you numbly take it, breathing out a weak, “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

You sit up a bit more and look down to see the grilled cheese she’d made, you pick it up realising how ravenous you felt, Darla watches as you start to eat, and with her hand that isn’t holding her and Vilmer’s plate she reaches out and cups your ass, asking, “You gonna be a good host and let us spend the night?”

It would be rude to turn them away now, you supposed, and it seemed like the night was far from over.

#Slasher x reader #Vilmer Slaughter x reader #Darla Slaughter X reader #Multi-May #BHF writing #Slaughter Squared #Do we like slaughter squared for their poly ship name?#I like it and that is the most important thing obviously #I hope you enjoy this

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blasphemous-lies-and-deceit · 5 months

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i see you are doing that kiss meme.... could you do 4 (...where it hurts) OR 48 (...out of habit) for gerrymichael/doorkeay pretty please (:

"Ow ow ow ow ow ow fucking ow," Gerry hissed with every step, hanging on to the handrail for dear life as he trudged up the stairs. He mentally cursed Michael's building managers for their refusal to fix the lift, and his leg for hurting every time he moved it, and also at himself for being so stupid and reckless. He should have known better. He shouldn't have fucked up.

That dark train of thought continued, telling him that he shouldn't be dragging his pathetic ass to Michael, that he didn't deserve such loving caring attention after what he'd done. And even just a short time ago he would have listened, and crawled away to lick his wounds elsewhere. But now he had experienced so much of Michael's love and sweetness, and he knew Michael would be upset that he hadn't come to him. And he really, really wanted Michael to help him and take care of him. He was hurt and he wanted his best friend. It was as simple as that.

Gerry opened the door to Michael's flat, quietly thrilled that he had a key to such a wonderful place, and nearly melting with relief that he was finally there. "Michael?" he called, leaning back against the door. Immediately he heard the sound of flailing from the bedroom, before pounding feet quickly approached.

"Gerry‒ oh!" Michael gasped when he saw him. "What happened, are you okay?"

"No," Gerry shook his head, steeling himself for the explanation. "I got bit on the ass by a book."

Michael blinked in disbelief. "You what?"

"Got bit. On the ass. By a book." Gerry reluctantly turned around, showing his bloody rear to Michael. "And I had to use your scarf for a bandage and I'm really sorry but I didn't know what else to do."

That hurt almost more than the punctures in his skin. Michael had knitted him a beautiful scarf and he'd gone and ruined it. He felt terrible, but Michael's hands were gentle on his hips when he approached, leaning against his back comfortably.

"First of all, that's not your ass, it's your upper thigh‒"

"Close enough," Gerry snapped, face burning when Michael reached around him to undo his zip, easing his trousers down to examine the injury.

"Second." Michael knelt and peeled away the scarf, examining the blood spots soaked into the stitches. "I'll make you a new scarf. I'll make you a million scarves if it means you come home to me." He leaned forward, pressing his lips to the broken skin of Gerry's thigh. "It doesn't look deep. You'll be okay, my love."

"Did you just kiss my ass?" Gerry asked when Michael straightened, peering at him incredulously over his shoulder. Michael grinned.

"It's not your ass, it's your upper thigh," he said again, laden with giggles. "Come on. Let me clean you up."

#i hope you enjoy this #it made me and my beta crack up #gerry keay #michael shelley #gerry my beloved #gerrymichael #michael my beloved #rebelwriting

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mushiewrites · 1 year

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Summer Afternoons

the final day of lee!George week....I can't believe this is over already omg. I just wanna thank everyone who participated or encouraged those of us who did, it honestly means so much to me ): ur all adorable and this was so much fun to do ): Anyway, today was a free day, and I chose to do a concept from the lovely @wishitweresummer (found here!) - it was originally lee!dream but Im insane and throw george in any situation so, yeah. This has been in my head every single day since the day summer posted it so.....I hope you enjoy! (also, remember to use the # "mushies lee!George week" if you participate! thank u!)

I also wanna mention - even though this is the last day of lee!George week, feel free to come back and do these prompts whenever you'd like! (and still use the hashtag so I can see as well!)

day 7 - free day! / prompts found here!

(lee!George / ler!Dream / ler!Sapnap : 2.5K words)

“George? Dream?”

There was a soft knocking sound coming from outside of the room, followed by the twist of a doorknob and the creek of the door slowly being pushed open. George stretched his arms out, moving to bring them up to rub at his eyes but finding he only had movement in his right arm. He opened his eyes sleepily to see Dream curled up beside him, his left arm under the blonde’s head acting as a pillow as he continued to nap peacefully. He turned his attention to the sound of the door shutting, seeing Sapnap walking towards the bed, moving quietly and being careful to not wake Dream.

“Hm?” The older boy mumbled, stretching his free arm above his head with a soft groan as he arched his back towards the ceiling until his body was shaking slightly. He let himself drop back down against the bed, moving a little closer to Dream to cuddle into him tighter. George turned his attention back to the younger boy standing at the side of his bed, watching his knees hit the side of the mattress every few seconds as he swayed back and forth on his feet.

“I didn’t know where you guys went. I checked your room, and when you weren’t there I just figured I’d look here. What are you doing?” Sapnap spoke in a whisper, not wanting to disrupt the comfortable softness surrounding them. George rolled his shoulders back a few times and leaned his head to the side, wincing as it popped loudly before doing the same to the opposite side. He yawned and grabbed at Sapnap’s left hand, pulling lightly and giving him a gentle smile.

“Napping. Cuddling. Come here, please?”

Sapnap giggled at the request, rolling his eyes with a fake sigh before climbing up onto Dream’s bed with the older two. He settled himself into George’s right side, laying his head over the brunette’s arm to mirror Dream. The younger boy threw his arm over George’s torso, letting the tips of his fingers land over Dream’s forearm. He ran his fingers up and down the skin a few times, biting his lip with a smile when the blonde let out a small squeak and the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile. Sapnap withdrew his hand so he didn’t accidentally wake him with his movements, not wanting to interrupt any rest Dream was able to squeeze into his busy schedule.

“How long have you guys been napping?” Sapnap asked, closing his eyes with a smile as George knocked the hat off of his head and began carding his hand through the curls beneath it. The younger boy nuzzled himself into George’s neck, smiling against it when he felt George start to squirm slightly, feeling the elder’s cheek press against his forehead as his smile grew wider with an attempt to hold in the giggles that threatened to spill out at any second.

“Whahat time is it?” George replied with a giggle as he squirmed slightly further towards Dream, trying to subtly escape Sapnap’s beard from scraping against the curve where his shoulder and neck connected.

“Uh, it’s….not even one yet.” The younger boy fished his phone from out of his pocket, checking the time and then locking it before setting it on the bedside table to his right. George hummed in acknowledgement, furrowing his brows together as he thought about when they had first gone to Dream’s room to lay down.

“I’m not sure, I don’t even think it’s been an hour.” It was Sapnap’s turn to hum in response to George’s answer, nodding and pulling back slightly to lean part of his head on the soft pillows beneath them.

“Well, we have all the time in the world to nap now.” Sapnap felt the rougher part of a tiny feather sticking out from one of the pillows graze his ear, shaking his head and moving it back slightly to get away from the light tickly feeling.

“A Sap-nap. Get it?” George couldn’t stop himself from bursting into chirpy giggles, trying to stay as quiet as possible, turning to bury his face into Sapnap’s shoulder to help him muffle the noises he was trying to keep down. His attempt was ruined when Sapnap aimed a knuckle at his most sensitive rib, rubbing in a few times and giggling to himself when George squealed into his shoulder.

“Yeheah, I get it, you little idiot,” Sapnap whispered closer to George’s ear, grunting when he felt the feather tickle over his ear again. He sat up onto his elbow, running his hand over the pillowcase to try and find the fuzzy culprit. “Hold on. There’s a stupid little fucking feather or something poking out, it keeps tickling me.” He continued to rub against the pillow with the palm of his hand, gasping when after a few seconds he was able to locate the annoying object. He held it up for George to see, grimacing at the little white feather in between his fingers.

“That’s the thing that was bothering you? It’s like, not even two inches!” The elder rolled his eyes at Sapnap’s dramatics, chuckling at the pathetic looking thing in his hand. He watched as the younger boy twisted his lips up into a smirk, already sensing where this was going.

“You’d know two inches pretty well, wouldn’t you, Georgie.”

“Hey! What the fuck is that supposed to-”

“Nnnnh….shut up.”

The boy’s immediately pressed their lips into thin lines, turning their attention to the very sleepy looking blonde boy who was angrily looking back at them. He rolled his eyes with a huff, moving to stretch in a similar manner that George had just minutes before.

“Oh Dream, I’m so sorry, George woke you up!” Sapnap spoke softly even as he threw the older boy under the bus, making George gasp in offense and whip his head towards the younger boy with his jaw dropped.

“I did not! You’re just as guilty! If it wasn’t for you and your stupid feather, this wouldn’t have- AHAHAHA HEY! STOHOHOP!”

It seemed Dream wasn’t interested in anything George had to say, having taken Sapnap’s side and using the hand he wasn’t lying on to squeeze along the left side of George’s rib cage. The brunette squealed and launched himself into louder cackles as Sapnap joined in, rubbing his knuckle into his worst rib once again and making Dream follow suit on the opposite side.

“WHY! S-STOHOHOP! PLEHEHEASE, G-GEHEHET OFF!” George twisted his body the best he could, pulling at his arms but whining when both boys sat up slightly, leaning an elbow over each of George’s forearms to make sure he stayed down against the blankets. “THIHIS IS- NAHAHA IT’S SOHOHO MEAN!”

“You woke me up, George. If you ask me, I’d say that’s mean!” Dream countered his complaint, giggling when George’s laughter jumped an octave as Sapnap swiped the white feather over the smaller boy’s tricep. Dream stopped his tickling, his attention now on the tiny object in Sapnap’s hand. “Where on earth did you find that?”

“From your stupid feather pillows! It kept poking me in my ear so I just….pulled it out.” Sapnap explained sheepishly, giggling when Dream broke out into bright giggles himself.

“Let me see.” Dream motioned for Sapnap to pass him the feather, his smile growing as George began to screech when Dream dangled it over his open underarm.

“What’s wrong, it’s like, ‘not even two inches!’” Sapnap mocked the elders previous comment, feigning a horrible British accent to add injury to insult. George squirmed as Dream grabbed his shirt sleeve between his pointer and middle fingers, stretching it down and inching the feather closer to the opening.

“Nonono! No, plehehease, I didn’t dohoho anything!”

“You woke him up, darlin’!” Sapnap noted happily, a hint of his southern drawl shining through and giggling when Dream reached over and poked at his cheek in response to the accent.

“Darlin’.” Dream repeated, mostly to himself, making the other two laugh. The blonde watched as George threw his head back into the pillows with his eyes shut, recognizing this as his chance to pounce. He quickly shot his hand forward, wiggling the soft point of the feather directly into the center of George’s armpit, eyes widening with amusement when George jerked his body towards Sapnap with a cackle.

“NAHAHAHA no! Nohohoho NOHO! D-Dreheheheam!” George kicked his feet against the bed as he continued his cackles, feeling Dream dragging the feather in circles under his left arm, making a huge spiral and drawing it tighter as he would reach closer to the center again.

“Wait, there’s no way it’s that bad. Let me try!” George opened his eyes just in time to see the two pass the feather between them, this time jolting towards Dream when Sapnap ran the feather quickly up the side of his neck to make him squeal.

“Dohohon’t! Stohohop!” The elder cried out as Sapnap traced the feather directly under George’s ear on the side of his neck, grinning as Dream used the hand he wasn’t leaning on to softly grip George’s jaw to hold him in place.

“Don’t stop? Well, if you insist, baby!”

Dream let out a tiny wheeze when George shrieked at his statement, trying and failing to shake his head out of his grasp. Sapnap knew how sensitive the spot under George’s ear was and took pity on him, quickly following Dream’s lead and shoving the feather up George’s sleeve and into the hollow of his right armpit. He was much less precise with his movements, wiggling it around over any spot he could to find the best reaction. Sapnap stopped and observed his movements when George screeched, noticing where the feather was tickling. Dream let go of his jaw, allowing the older boy to thrash his head from side to side as he lost himself in his own laughter.

“Oh, this is a good spot, huh, Georgie?” Dream leaned over as Sapnap spoke to watch the feather saw back and forth over the inner side of his underarm, where the muscle was pulled taunt and put on display with the way Sapnap was holding his arm down.

“Nohoho no! Plehehease not- nohOHHOT THEHERE!” The oldest boy was in near-hysterics at this point, kicking harder against the blankets and making them curl into a messy pile beneath him.

“Not there? Okay, what about….here?”

George began howling suddenly when Sapnap turned the feather in his hand and started poking into the skin at the center of his armpit softly with the rougher part of it. Dream placed his hand on George’s chest and gently pressed down, keeping him stuck to the bed rather than keep trying to fling himself forward and side to side to get away from the feather.

“Wait, I want another try!” Dream whined after a few minutes of watching George laugh himself silly. Sapnap sighed in fake annoyance, handing Dream the feather once more and smirking as he replaced Dream’s hand on George’s chest with his own.

“Oh my gosh, you’re such a little squirmy thing today, aren’t you?” Sapnap commented with a smirk, pleased with the way George’s blush seemed to deepen at the remark. He turned to bury his head into Sapnap’s shoulder again, groaning and breaking into cackles as Dream slid the feather into his sleeve and traced the rougher stem of the feather in little circles under his arm.

“Just so giggly, Georgie.” Dream commented quietly, continuing his torment.

“N-Nohoho more, plehehease! Plehehease, softer!” George pouted through his laughter, revealing himself from his hiding place in Sapnap’s shoulder and flashing Dream his teary eyes to show him just how tickled out he was. The blonde immediately complied, caving instantly and switching the feather to the soft part to continue tracing tiny circles along the sides of his armpit.

“Dream, I think our kitten is a little tired out, don’t you think?” George was surprised to hear the statement from Sapnap but was thankful he did, taking in a much needed breath of air when Dream reluctantly pulled the feather back out of his sleeve and turned to his left to place it on the bed sheets beside him.

“What happened to you, tough guy? Giving up so soon on torturing our little Gogs, hm?” Dream seemed equally as surprised as George, giggling through his accusation as Sapnap shook his head with a slight blush rising to his cheeks. George continued to laugh his little heart out, turning back towards Sapnap and burying his face into the curly haired boy’s neck to hide and muffle his lingering giggles.

“Come on, Dream, look at him! He’s being so soft and shy, how can you torture him when he’s like this?” Sapnap questioned back, moving his palm from the center of George’s chest and instead wrapping it around the smaller boy’s torso and pulling him closer.

“Okay, I guess you do have a point there.” Dream lifted up to lean on the palm of his hand, allowing George to move his arm from under him and loop it completely around Sapnap instead.

The two younger boys laughed at the way George immediately clung to Sapnap, unable to wrap their heads around the fact that George was allowing himself to be so soft with them. Dream wasn’t about to ruin it by commenting on it though and instead slotted himself behind George, wrapping his left arm around the tiny waist in front of him and allowing Sap to adjust his arm to hang over Dream’s shoulder, successfully encasing George in the tightest, most comfiest cuddle hug they could make.

Within seconds the two heard George’s breathing even out, letting them know he had finally fallen asleep. The two whispered back and forth for a minute before deciding to nap as well, both closing their eyes and cuddling in close together. There was a comfortable silence blanketing the room, only to be broken seconds later by Dream.

“Hey Sap?” He whispered, lifting his head up slightly and opening one eye. He watched the youngest boy scrunch his nose at the disturbance, a slight smile forming anyway before he answered.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t think I won’t remember that the feather tickled your ears.” He watched as Sapnap dipped his head down to bury his face in George’s hair, catching a glimpse of the reddening cheeks before he was completely hidden from Dream’s view.

“Try me and I’ll tape it inside your belly button.”

Dream whined quietly at that, feeling his own face heat up as his attempt to tease Sapnap majorly backfired on him.

“Whatever!” Dream spat back, closing his eyes and settling back down against the smaller boy in his arms. He pressed his forehead to the nape of George’s neck, smiling through his blush as he fell asleep to the sounds of Sapnap’s raspy giggles, and the thoughts of exactly what he was just threatened with playing out in his mind.

#lee!george #ler!dream #ler!sapnap #do u guys like the title?#get it??? cause...summers concept??? :D #anyway #this concept seriously has been on my brain since summer wrote it #asked her for her permission to write it forever ago but i finally did and im so happy with how it turned out #might even do this concept for the other two as well......we'll see :3 #i hope you enjoy this #and i hope you enjoyed lee!george week #it was so much fun to do and i truly appreciate all of u sm #i will cry if i dont shut up so.......yeah <3 #mushies lee!george week #mushie fics #mcyt tickle #my stuff

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fallqueee · 7 months

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i made a venn diagram of each of my favourite characters from each of my favourite medias

#i hope you enjoy this #the amazing digital circus #helluva boss #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #our flag means death #ofmd #venn diagram

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whiteshipnightjar · 1 year

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No Wonder

by Joanna Newsom

Take it with me, love, to a place it can be, love. Little bird, little stone, shine, in light of the undone, dig with your hands, dear gather our friends, dear and I will cover with dust, dear Silence and trust, dear. Stay through the winter, wait for the splinter, and the green in the springtime, Queen-and-her-King-time.

Sweetness all summer and fall hit like a drummer and split in the autumn pit with no bottom.

And after the fall, out in the country in the long drought with ya, honey. And I call, daughter and son, ours to adore, whatever may come. After our chores end, and our money and our scores are settled and done, darling, I will stay till the last, plates are all filled, treats are all passed.

Ain’t it a thrill, ain’t it a gas Foot* at the hill, and don’t it go fast? At the foot of the hill, we empty our glasses.

And I’ll follow you over, will you follow me under? Crawl through the shadows, call out the wonder. Oh, how I love you, time will tell – I’ll never tire of you, I’m just tired of myself, dear.

And as our days, waft in a realm our path is away, soft as a dream. We laugh and we race soft and ennui capture a stray pod on the breeze hammer a stake, mark in our seed manage to rake, water, and weed. Hundred to one, our garden will grow. But wonder or none, I wanna be known, wanna be sung, wanna be shown, want for no one but you and your warm opening arms. Watching the rolling storm clouds sail by

our window, dock in the valley; paled*, pocked, and dimpled crocodile belly. We wait all night and count the thunder, there is no lightning. It is no wonder.

But just before dawn, water comes streaming in the dark, every bead burns like a star, blinking to sleep, burns like a spark, burrowing deep, under the lawn, quiet and green rain has begun, honey, come see under the sun, rising like steam. Wonder or none, I wanna be seen, wanna be–eventually, eventually.

Grow through the winter, and summer, surely and slowly. Little star shine of wonder at home with you only.

#joanna newsom #no wonder #a joanna lullaby #god it's so beautiful #she really went and did it again made a new masterpiece album #my lyrics here are mostly similar to what i've seen others hear too but there are some different places still #i marked 'paled' here because i can hear and see both 'paled' and 'paved' and they both make sense within context of the line #but i went with 'paled' because it creates and l alliteration and joanna loves a little phonetic play #anyway #i hope you enjoy this #i have 2 left any request which should i do first marie at the mill or the air again? or maybe no one needs these from me anymore?#jnew 5 lyrics #love joanna #jnew #'foot at the hill' can also be 'ford at the hill' depending on which wordplay she went for haha

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tdh-official-book-blog · 2 months

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Prologue

A pair of wings were mercilessly ripped from the back of their owner, he cries out in pain, and falls to the ground. His arms pull him forward as he tries to escape from his attacker. He can hear them laugh but he cannot see them, his consciousness fading, he doesn't have time to ponder why they do not pursue him. “Hey, come with me, I can help you.” A familiar voice calls to him, it feels like the comforting voice of a friend. Pulling himself along with the assistance of the voice's owner, he managed to get to an altar of sorts. His consciousness finally giving way, the last he heard was the voice, “LUNÉ!” that name echoed in his mind, almost as if someone was calling it.

Luné.

“Luné!”

“LUNÉ!”

#Alrighty so here's the prologue #I was so impatient so I took the first part of the first chapter and made it the prologue lol #Enjoy this as I finish the first chapter #I hope you enjoy this #My dad sure did #Honestly I'm pretty excited #First book that I intend on finishing #So yeah #Luné #Finky Writes #loz fan book #my writing #loz oc #tloz #legend of zelda #The Deity Hierarchy #TDH Luné

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keeira · 7 months

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DCAH2023!

Hello @lemonadelyric !! I was your secret skeleton c: I decided to dabble into trick, as I love my good and creepy, and I hope you enjoy this gift I have made for you. https://archiveofourown.org/works/51324373

Daydreamer

Words: ~2,700

That was the night the crimson eyes came to save them.

As the rabbit bared its teeth, stumbling forward, looming over them.

As the rabbit reached to hurt them again, the crimson eyes came to save them.

They couldn’t remember the nightmare that woke them up that night.

“Daddy?”

Small, shaking hands held a chipped and dirty blanket close to their tattered pajamas as fragile eyes glued themselves to the living room armchair that leaned back heavily from the weight upon it. A weight that left its mark on the torn carpet that held it for years. Smoke billowed throughout every corner like a cloud of suffocating fog, consuming every shred of breathable air whether it be in their lungs or at the bottom of one of the countless glass bottles that littered the floor. Broken, stained, and forgotten.

The boxy television screen faded away from the loud pops it always played. A game he loved more than them. Than life itself. No, the joyful screams became an echo of the static that was now the screen’s projection. Static that ate away at everything but that armchair and the never-ending, poison fog. It was so loud and…

And those terrifying ears appeared over the headrest. His violet gaze crept over the fabric’s edge and cemented their stone feet to the floor. Those eyes an endless, vicious, hypnotic swirl that squeezed their heart into a tight ball, choked the air away from their lungs, and seized every hair to rise from their skin. Even the hot smoke that ensnared them was nothing compared to the chill that ran through their body then.

He stole him.

He stole him again.

He in golden fur stumbled away from their daddy’s chair, a bottle slipping out from oversized mitts and shattering amongst the rest of the forgotten shards. Rabbit ears dipped with his angled gaze, he who towers over them again. He was here to get them. To get them again. Sunny was right.

He took him. He hid him away, away so deep under lock and key. Daddy was gone.

That was the night the crimson eyes came to save them.

As the rabbit bared its teeth, stumbling forward, looming over them. As the rabbit reached to hurt them again, the crimson eyes came to save them. Their gentle silver tore away from their chest and thrust himself in between them and that leering grin. A moonbeam to burn away that terrible rabbit that stole him from them. Jagged, navy fingers and silver claws slammed into the toppled rabbit. Plunging again and again and again until they tore out the white stuffing from the golden bunny. Stuffing that floated across the house and got into their hair. It was like a bunch of fluffy clouds decorating the night sky, and their newfound Moon right in the middle of it. A soft, gentle Moon that walked them to their bed and sung to them the most enchanting lullaby.

Their Moon had come to save them.

A moment you will never forget.

And even though you were much older now, the lullaby still whispered to you each night from a place above where eyes could follow. It will be daytime soon.

You sat in the corner of your bed, eyes fixated on the lovely chimes that echoed from the ceiling. The lights would turn on soon. And once they did, his lovely grin would emerge to fill your small, white room. Like the real sun was shining through those circular lights that lined their prison. You can’t quite remember when you met Sun since his soothing words echoed throughout your mind long before those lovely, red ribbons danced into view. He was invaluable to you. Irreplaceable. Your beloved guiding light and cherished companion through thick and thin. He knew what was best for you.

And you will always believe him. “Good morning, Daydreamer! How’d you sleep?” Those gentle, white eyes enveloped you with their warmth and his beautiful smile always sent joyful waves throughout your body. “Pretty good, Sunny, thanks. Did you still want to draw today?” Of course, he did. When would he ever say no to crafts?

“Ab-so-lutely! I just love what you make! Anything on your mind- Ooo! Maybe another one of me?” His eyes lit up in excitement, “Both of us?”

You had tons of drawings of him taped to the, otherwise barren, walls of your room, even a few of Moon- Not to mention the tons and tons Sun has made. Part of you wondered if you’d be running out of wall space soon. Your eyes found the empty space left closest to the door. You couldn’t run out of wall space, not when your captors would routinely rip down everything and take it away.

You hadn’t even realized you were spacing out until Sun’s hands clasped onto either of your shoulders, “Oh, sorry Sunny, I was just thinking about what I haven’t made yet. Maybe a drawing with all three of us?” You knew he didn’t believe your false smile. Nothing ever got past Sunny no matter how hard you tried to hide it, “I haven’t done one of those in a while.” “I miss the old ones too,” Sun’s hands gently guided them to the craft-filled table in the room, “But! At least we have plenty of room for so much more. Maybe we could hide a few of your favorites under your pillow.” “I know I’d love to save the one you made yesterday,” he exclaimed before grabbing a few crayons, “It’s the best drawing of me you’ve made yet!” You couldn’t help your smile as you slid into one of the table’s chairs, grabbing your pack of pencils and finding a standard gray one, “you really think so?” “I know so!” Sun awkwardly slid into the chair opposite them, “I’ve seen them all, silly.” Watching the big guy struggle with the tiny chairs in their room never failed to make you snicker, even when your solar companion shot you a disapproving frown. They really didn’t look to accommodate your friends when they trapped them in here with you. Not that they’ve ever seen them or that they couldn’t just leave you. They couldn’t see Sun and you haven’t seen Moon in… years? How many years has it been? Has it been years? Your pencil tapped on the paper. When had you lost count again? No use in trying to remember now, they wouldn’t ever let you leave.

This will always be the main way- Well… No, it was the only way you spent your mornings.

“She’s coming.”

Your eyes shot up to Sun, his pupilless orbs locked onto the door. Her steps were just a faint click on the floor before growing, growing, growing- she was coming for you this morning- louder and louder, the door pounding from the volume, the room growing dark- She was right outside the door.

Silence.

A click of the locks. Click, click, click. The doorknob was turning.

“Good morning!” The woman smiled pleasantly, “I see you’re up early as always.”

Sun was already up and out of the chair, hanging over your shoulder as the blonde woman approached the table, “Good morning, Vanessa.” She always smiled when you said her name. You noticed she was carrying a folder today as she cleared up your table, setting the object down before sitting in the chair Sunny was just in. You couldn’t feel him behind you anymore.

“I just wanted to ask you a few questions,” she opened the folder, “is that ok?” Your eyes remained locked on the picture she pulled out.

It was you. Your younger self stared back from the paper. They were covered in white stuffing.

You remember that day. The day they took you. They were at school, walking around on the blacktop outside with Sunny. “It’s alright if you don’t understand it yet, I’ll help you with your homework when we get home!” Sun beamed at them, his rays glowing in the daylight. “Why do you do that?” A girl stood in the way of where you were walking, “It’s really creepy.” You stared blankly at your classmate, “do what?”

“Well isn’t that just rude!” Sun’s voice rang in disapproval as you turned to him, “She shouldn’t be calling you names!”

“Sun says you shouldn’t call me names,” “That!” She exclaimed. “Tell her she needs to apologize and give you a hug.”

“Sun says you should apologize and give me a hug,” they stretched out their arms and took a step forward.

“Get away!” Their classmate shoved them and recoiled. The rest of her words were a shouted blur with the kids around them slowly beginning to lose interest in their activities and gather around them. Everyone was looking at them. They wanted to shrink away from the stares, shuffle away towards the door but she shoved them back again and screamed.

It was loud. Their hands covered their ears while small tears pricked at the corners of their eyes, “stop yelling at me.” They all have rabbit ears.

Eyes of deep violet pierced into their body, their shouts a chant that slammed against their ears in wicked rhythm. Their inky hands tore at one another as they fought to get closer to them, to rip them limb from limb until there was nothing left. And the golden rabbit before them just pointed and laughed. The screams pounding inside their skull were only silenced once a cool hand slid against their shoulder. His crimson eyes glanced at them for one moment before turning towards the one in the purple vest before them. And dove forward.

It was so loud.

Their lunar savior towered above the backpedaling rabbit while the others fled, pouncing upon it and sinking in those silver claws. Stuffing poured out of the evil rabbit with every swift strike their Moon made against their attacker.

His crimson eyes would protect them again.

“Are you still with me?” Vanessa tapped the table, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Yes.”

“Good,” she slid the picture closer to you, “can you tell me what you see?” “It’s me when I was younger,” Vanessa wrote down what you were saying in her notebook, “I was wearing my favorite shirt and there’s some red stuffing on it.” “Red stuffing?” You glanced at her as she stopped writing before looking back down at the picture. You remember them taking away your favorite, yellow shirt because the white stuffing wouldn’t come off, “No it’s white.” Vanessa remained silent, tapping her pencil against her notebook while you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. After what felt like an eternity, she pulled a walkie-talkie out of her pocket, “Get the therapy room ready, we might be able to make some progress if we’re quick.”

“Run!” Sun’s voice hissed in your ears as you shot out of your chair, shoving the table into the red-eyed woman.

“I need security, the patient is getting violent” Her hair turned white, and a pair of rabbit ears rose from the top of her head. You rushed to the back of your room, hands gripping the bedpost while the white rabbit backed towards the door. The lights flickered and darkened, the hare’s scarlet eyes glowing in the dark in rival to the crimson pair that hovered in front of you.

That is when the shadows poured in like a wave, covered in the violet eyes of each dark rabbit that gradually separated from the ink, creeping closer, maws semi-melted shut as they tried to part them. It was their screeching that filled the room, your starlit protector becoming overwhelmed with the colossal tide of monsters clamming down onto anything they could get their hands on. Grabbing your legs, arms, anything they could sink their fingers into as you gripped onto the bedpost.

You couldn’t hold on, they tore you away.

Her red eyes danced before you, the white rabbit twisting a cloth in her hands while the monsters held your head still. She silenced you- Tied the cloth around your mouth to mute your screams. They tugged you from all directions, dragging you past your Moon that waned under the writhing mass of inky bodies, melding together to hold down your protector. A single, clawed hand broke away to tear you free but it only stalled the mass for a moment before subduing the both of you once more.

You never left your room, the grimy hall void of any life aside from you and your captors who dragged you across the checkered floor. Or whatever of it was left to rot under the footsteps of evil creatures. You could vaguely hear the echo of his claws tearing against the waves. He has to save you, you can’t go through that again.

Not again, please!

The white rabbit threw open those double doors again, the chair in the center of the room the gallows and you were its unwilling victim.

Straps burned against your ankles and wrist, held your head still, bound your body to the sticky fabric beneath you. She stood at the console, her mindless shadows removing your gag and instead tying the wires around either side of your head as your labored breathing became accompanied by the whirr of machinery firing to life.

“No!” Your voice shrieked as you thrashed against your restraints, “Stop her!”

Navy fingers soaked with ink clawed open the double doors, your Moon dragging himself in despite the remaining creatures clutching onto his battered body with claws and teeth. Crimson eyes widened in terror while you tried to blink away the tears. Your restraints would not budge, and neither did your savior. Click.

The sound of the switch was the final thing you heard before the earsplitting humming reverberated off the walls. Your eyes grew wide for a moment, Moon slamming his hands into the sides of his head before a strangled mix of screams echoed throughout the room. Flashes of heat coursed throughout your body as the prickle of needles punctured every surface of your skin. It felt like your eyes were melting out of their sockets. Muscles clenched painfully into place. Your lungs failed to breathe.

Moon pulled at the rays that shot out of his skull. Flashes of yellow blurring into where the navy once was before flopping to silver and back to yellow, all of the colors rippling in a wave across their body with the currents that flew through your own. One eye white, the other crimson, both fluttered closed while their mangled mesh of bodies all but vanished before you.

And as your body jerked out of your control, the searing heat took your consciousness with a final spark of light.

And all was dark again.

…

You sat in a wheelchair, bound by the arms as Vanessa wheeled you towards your room.

Not a word was uttered between you.

The lights were blinding, as they always were. Yet even still they felt so dim.

“Please let me know if you’re feeling anything out of the ordinary, and keep a look out for any excess disorientation,” Vanessa began loosening the straps, “This treatment is taxing on the body and we need to make sure you're recovered before prescribing you anything new.”

You subconsciously rubbed your wrists, “Ok.” Slowly, with great effort, you found the strength to pull yourself out of your chair and peer around your room. The walls were covered in your drawings and blank sheets of paper, confusion furrowing in your brows. Sunny’s drawings were gone.

Your heart began to hammer in your chest as you stumbled towards your table, a sharp warning coming from the blonde woman yet you ignored it. Your drawing was just as you left it, but Sun’s crayons sat on top of a blank piece of paper. They took his drawings again, they stole what was yours! “We’ll get the papers cleaned up soon-” “Where did you take them!” You angrily turned to the white-coated woman, “Where did you take my friends? Why did you take his things? Why!”

“We didn’t take anything-” “Yes, you did! They’re gone! You-”

Your name echoed throughout the room, bringing a pause to your tirade, “We can't take something that was never there.”

“What?” A terror unknown to you iced over your veins, your head snapping to the table.

In the middle of the table sat a picture of you when you were younger. You wore your favorite yellow sweater that day, the one with the big sun right in the middle. You were covered in red. The liquid stained several places on the sweater, was caught in your hair, and drenched your hands.

Hands that held the navy blue handle of a chipped, silver kitchen knife.

#dcah2023 #fnaf dca #sun #moon #LemonadeLyric #I hope you enjoy this #DCAH2023 #secret skeleton #fnaf

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