Michael Robinavitch has a thing for sloppy seconds. Specifically Jack’s sloppy seconds. (f!reader)
He doesn’t even pretend not to want it. Jack has you face down in bed, groaning and gasping with every snap of his hips. Robby’s in a chair next to the bed, hands bound behind his back so he doesn’t touch himself and come too early to fuck you. It was done at his request, but with great enthusiasm from you.
After you and Jack come together (how sweet), Jack pulls out of you and gives your ass a nice pat. Then, without cleaning you up or praising you for taking him like he normally does, Jack makes his way to Robby and unbinds him.
“Go have it,” Jack mutters, taking Robby’s seat when he leaps out of it, scrambling to your spot on the bed, where your abused cunt waits for him, dripping with Jack’s seed.
Robby tastes you first, moaning at the taste of yours and Jack’s combined arousal while his own cock hangs uselessly between his legs, dripping pre-cum onto the bed. You’re too sensitive from your previous orgasm, barely two minutes ago, for Robby to continue for too long. Reluctantly, he parts with your pussy with a languid lick along your entire slit.
When Robby sinks in, already fighting off his orgasm, his cock is enveloped by a wet heat. Your arousal mixed with Jack’s cum drips out as he pushes in, forming a ring around the base of his cock and dripping down his balls.
Robby fucks you fast. He couldn’t hold himself back if he wanted to. You’re just so pretty sitting there for him, hips in the air, taking his cock like you’re meant for it. For the most part.
“Sl-Slow down!” You stutter. “It’s—“
You stop yourself with a moan, and the sound wraps around Robby’s mind, suffocating it. If it wasn’t for Jack, who clasps a hand on his shoulder, Robby would have just gotten locked in your pussy, rutting endlessly as his poor girl got overstimulated.
“Sorry!” Robby gasps. Behind him, Jack chuckles.
“Careful, brother,” Jack’s arm wraps around Robby’s waist, pulling him flush against his torso. “I don’t want you breaking my toy.”
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Frank Castle aka The Punisher who has been keeping an eye on you while Matt was super busy. Matt had found you in some sketchy warehouse, a doll...kinda. You were completely sentient, and obsessed with the idea of becoming human.
You looked like a doll, your hair wasn't real, your features appeared painted on, your voice sounded pretty recorded, your joints were far too visual.
Frank honestly didnt like being around you, it made him queasy. Your voice made him feel like he was in danger.
Your body cracked slightly when you moved.
You asked Frank if he would go to you to a breakfast place as a treat. Frank really didnt want to spend any more time near you than he had to, but you looked so...exited?
As soon as Frank nodded, you squealed and rushed to your room. When you emerged, you werre in a jacket with gloves, a mask and a hat.
"A bit of a dress up, dont ya think?" Frank mumbled. It was hot outside, you'd melt. Maybe literally
"Well...If I go out normally, people get scared." You voicebox cracked. "I'm scary." You said it like a fact, maybe it was one.
"Alright then."
When the two of you arrived, Frank ordered his usual, you ordered the same, but ended up not eating. You gave it to Frank.
"Thought this was your idea."
"Yeah...um- my mouth dosent open.:
"How d'ya eat?"
"I dont...I dont get hungry at all...I'm not sure I even have teeth. I've been told it's nice though." You picked at the gloves that covered your hands.
"Uh. Ok."
"I just thought you might enjoy this."
"It was alright."
"Ok."
When the ywo of you got back, Frank had an errand to run. You would be fine alone for a few hours, right?
When Frank returned you were in the bathroom. He called your name a few times, and upon getting no response, Frank hesitant opened the door. The mirror was completely shattered, you sat on the side of the tub. The paint on your hands had chipped. On the counter was a picture of someone that looked vaguely like you.
"You alright?"
"I can-n-n't feel anyth-thing, I'm-m fine." Your voice ox was very glitchy now.
"You care to explain...?"
"I jus-s-st got a l-little mad."
"The picture?"
"Its t-the person I'm bas-sed off." Frank nodded. "The-e-ey didnt do good replicati-ing-ng me...I could ha-have looked like that. I could-...I could have been h-h-human."
Frank didnt know what to say, so he sat with the silence for a moment before sitting next to you, pulling a piece of glass from your plastic skin.
"I've met guys that act much less human than you do."
[ID: The phrase "Something Wicked" in bold type with "Deleted Scene" written above and "Excerpt" written below; it is surrounded by a black-and-white image of a woman's chin and hand bearing a ring, a blue-and-silver image of a row of slot machines, a blue-and-silver image of a man's torso in a suit and tie; and a black-and-white image of playing cards and poker chips. End ID.]
Image made via Canva.
So, I posted a while back how I decided to axe my prologue to Something Wicked where Jade and Caz meet for the first time and cut a deal. But there are so many things I like about that prologue, slow and messy as it may have been, I thought I'd share some excerpts here:
Word count: 1,046
TWs for some swearing, gambling, and Caz being a bit of an objectifying creep, sorry
Taglist (ask to be +/-) below the cut
~
Jade tugged at the seam of her dress as she went to sit at the poker table, feeling the beads under her fingers again. She wished it wasn’t so tight against her hips and stomach. It was a loan from Ruby, which meant it was probably vintage; with its waist dropped low and beads shimmering like an oil slick.
She sensed a presence next to her, and looked up to see a man in a three-piece suit. It was expensive-looking, all silver including a patterned tie and a vest. He was about her age, but something about him felt older. Probably because he looked so faded, with corpse-pale skin and hair bleached so blond it was almost white.
“Mind if I sit?” he asked, his fingers drumming on the back of the chair next to her. Jade was taller than average, but he loomed over her.
“No,” Jade said. He smelled odd, though, she thought, like pennies.
“Nice dress,” he remarked as he sat down. He seemed to have noticed Jade playing with the beads.
She shrugged.
“It’s a pain to even sit in this thing,” she said. “I bet that suit of yours is more comfortable.”
The man raised an eyebrow.
“Suppose you wouldn’t look bad in a suit,” he said. “Though you’d need a good tailor.”
The man’s eyes dragged themselves up and down Jade’s seated form for a moment. They were a very washed out silver. Faded, like the rest of him.
“Yeah, you’d want to make sure it fits all your,” a smirk played on his mouth. “Assets, properly.”
Jade felt something rise from the pit of her stomach. The back of her neck prickled.
She didn’t know who this stranger was, but she was going to bleed him dry in this game.
~
Jade didn’t get a chance to take much of the man’s money. He folded after one round, gathering his remaining chips and giving one final glance at Jade before leaving the table.
It was a quick game she won easily, even though two other players turned out to have better hands than her. She knew they would fold if she stayed in. She was right, of course. She always was.
She had collected her winnings from the bank in the casino and was trying to decide if she should play another game when a streak of silver in one of the piss-yellow rooms caught the corner of her eye. It was the same man from earlier, leaning lazily against a craps table. And he had seen her.
“Hey,” he said, straightening himself. “Saved you a spot.”
Despite herself, Jade was striding over to the table, as if pulled by a current.
“Are you following me?” she asked.
“Just figured I might have a chance to get some of your winnings here,” he leaned back against the table in what should have been a polished motion, but slid against its edge slightly. A worker looked over in annoyance.
Jade cocked her head.
“You probably don’t know who I am.”
“Jade Shaw, the amateur poker champ?” he smirked. “Yeah, I have an idea.”
“And you still want to play me?” she asked. “Because you were pretty shitty at that last game.”
This time the man cocked his head back at her.
“You’re saying that because I folded after one round? How do you know I didn’t have a bad hand?”
“You didn’t.”
“And how would you know that?”
It was less of an argument and more of an actual question this time.
“I -” Jade bit the inside of her mouth. “I guess I don’t.”
“Excuse me, sir, are you planning on playing?”
The worker from earlier was standing next to the man, waiting for him to remove himself from the craps table.
“Hm,” he glanced at the game. “No, but I think I’m going to do the house a favor.”
He looked back to Jade, who had folded her arms and fixed him with a stare.
“Instead of playing here,” he said, walking closer to her. “How about another round? This time one on one.”
He flashed a worn-looking deck of cards at her before returning it to his jacket.
“Why would I want to do that?” Jade asked.
“Figure you’d want to make some easy money.”
Jade decided she didn’t need craps right now. Maybe a drink. She turned around and headed out of the room.
“Hey, hold on,” the man said, keeping pace with her. “Are you still mad at me about that suit comment?”
Jade kept walking.
“I was just being honest,” he said. His words had almost a desperation to them this time. “Look, you would need a tailor. Anyone does. You think I don’t with this gangly frame of mine?”
The last comment caused Jade to snort in spite of herself. The man noticed.
“Self-deprecation, that’s what does it for you? Should I say I’m ugly, too?”
That would be a lie, Jade thought, and the thought pissed her off so much the next sentence spilled easily out of her.
“I want you to say you’re a bastard,” she said. She had stopped walking but was still facing away from him.
“That’s all?” the man almost laughed. “That’s easy. I’m an enormous bastard. I’m the biggest, slimiest bastard around. How about that?”
Jade turned around.
“And, I’m sorry,” he added.
“You realize how stupid it is to try to have some makeshift heads-up game with your dollar-store pack of cards in the middle of a casino?”
“These aren’t dollar-store -” he began, before stopping himself. “We can go somewhere a little more quiet. You know this place, right? Any ideas?”
On instinct, Jade went to twirl a strand of dark hair around her finger, only to remember it was currently piled on top of her head.
“I don’t even know your name,” she said. “Not a fan of the whole ‘mysterious stranger’ crap.”
“It’s Caz,” he said. “Short for Casimer.”
He held out his hand for Jade to shake, but she ignored it.
“You’re really that desperate to play me in poker?” she asked.
“Yes,” he shrugged. “I’m always up for new challenges.”
“That’s a stupid reason to lose your money,” she said. “If you don’t mind the walk, there might be a place we can go.”
So another thing that inspired me to start Constellations was Angron's story and how to make it better. Which unfortunately came with headcanons on how much of a god-awful hell-hole Nuceria would be. We have got many Primarchs to go before we get to Angron, but here, have a sneak peek!
Trigger Warnings for slavery, dehumanisation and very brief implication of sexual slavery.
xxx
“That...is not a three-year-old.”
To his side, Pareth laughed at his exclamation, his mouth wide and pink. “Told you he was a Freak, didn’t I?”
Tessel didn’t bother with an answer immediately, eyes instead glued on the Gladiator stalking the sands of the arena directly below them. It was only a small, training arena, not like the one in the capital of Desh’ea, so it didn’t take long for the man to make a full circuit.
No, not man; boy. Despite the height and the musculature, there was something incomplete, a softness to the jaw.
No, no matter.
“When you said Freak, I thought you meant a withered leg, an albino, or something. Even a bio-surgeon’s rejected project; with a beak or scales or whatever modifications are in fashion for Pet-Slaves now. Not this. Apart from the aging, he’s normal! I cater to a niche audience, you know. To be in the Freak Category of the Gladiatorial Institute, he has to actually visibly be a Freak.”
Good humour dying, Pareth tried to rekindle interest, his ever-present sheen of sweat thickening. He absent-mindedly wiped it away with a luridly dyed handkerchief. “Well, there’s the twin hearts, some organs that none of the Healers can figure out the purpose of-”
“Visible Attributes, Pareth,” Tessel cut him off. “Organs? Hah! I’m buying Gladiators, not science-props! No, I’m not interested, but I bet you’d get a handsome price from one of the Universities.”
The Merchant visibly deflated, neck-folds quivering. “Not as much as you’d think; he’s a First-Gen slave, found wandering the wastes alone. That means no Sire or Dam on a registry somewhere. Even if no blood-kin’s stepped forward to claim him in the first year, thus allowing him to be put on the market, the Universities always make this massive fuss about their prestige and anything that can put it in danger. They don’t want the slightest possibility of being sued coming anywhere near those pretentious marble halls of theirs.”
“Come, come Pareth,” Tessel reassured. “Their constant consumption rate of Test-Slaves for their classes keeps you and Mama Cleron in steady business, does it not? And I know you exchange stock often.”
Pareth scoffed. “She’s not getting her painted fingernails on this one, that’s for certain; he’d be wasted purely as a Stud. No; he’d be the biggest thing in Gladiatorial Gaming if given a chance.”
Tessel didn’t know much about children. He was a Gladiator Stable Manager, not a Wet-Nurse. But he knew a few basic things. “He’s three. Sure, he’s six feet tall, but what’s the point if he starts bawling for mommy the moment I shove a sword in his hand?”
Pareth suddenly donned a flat, knowing look as he nodded to the side. “He’s been listening to us for the past minute.”
Following the look, Tessel glanced down, and met a cold, scathing glare. The slave had stopped pacing the sands to stand directly below the front-row seats where they were situated. He was looking up at them, waiting, patiently.
me: nothing, I’m fine just something about this character from a show
also me, internally: five hargreeves spent the first part of his life being used as an object for reginald hargreeves to train. then he immediately gets sent to the apocalypse, and is the only living thing there. he probably had bouts of feeling like he wasn’t real, that he wasn’t even a human being or living object. this would have been pushed further by the thought that he wasn’t human because he’s read enough books to know that humans can’t rumor people or see ghosts or teleport or time travel. maybe one day he stumbled upon a book on mental health and convinced himself that nothing was real, and that he made all of this up to feel special. It didn’t help that all he could talk to was a part of himself masquerading as a mannequin. and as he was growing older this probably only increased due to age related disorders and diseases, and this was before the handler came along. then the handler picked him up, and mutated him into being the perfect weapon and object. he was only referred to as a weapon or a kid in schoolboy shorts. this most definitely didn’t help the increasing paranoia over the years that he wasn’t real or that he wasn’t an object. and with his sole purpose being save his family, he probably will just stop and break once theyre safe and happy because he has served his purpose so what’s the reason to keep going? after all, that’s his purpose as an object.
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thank yew for intox weekend i have loved all of it and you are such a terrific write COULD I ASK FOR ONE MORE 🙏🙏
rabbot and weed?? however you want but man... them getting reader so high they're just pliant and can only nod and whine... 🧎🧎🧎🧎🧎🧎🧎🧎
i raise you this...... what if it's a surprise...
maybe you work night shifts, and you and jack are supposed to be off tonight. except, you wake up around noon to find jack putting his leg on. he says something about robby needing help as well as a promise to make it home soon, but you know better. jack's going to stay until robby comes home, and they're both going to come home stressed as anything.
so, what's better than a surprise.
you make sure you're already plenty high when they step through the door. stripped to only your underwear, you lounge on the couch, smiling lazily at your partners as they finally spot you.
"are you high?" they ask in unison. you bite your lip and nod.
robby quickly joins you on the couch, looking closely into your red eyes as he pulls you into his lap.
"it's for you," you bite your lip as jack joins you on the couch, his leg carefully set aside. your head falls to robby's shoulder, and you wink at jack, "wanted you to have nice toy to play with."
"oh sweetheart," jack's hand falls to his clothed cock as robby curses. "you're too good for us."
[ID: The phrase "Something Wicked" in bold type with "Deleted Scene" written above and "Excerpt II" written below; it is surrounded by a black-and-white image of a woman's chin and hand bearing a ring, a blue-and-silver image of a row of slot machines, a blue-and-silver image of a man's torso in a suit and tie; and a black-and-white image of playing cards and poker chips. End ID.]
Image made via Canva.
I mentioned in my last post I wrote a prologue I've since decided to cut in my latest draft of Something Wicked. I've decided to share some excerpts over time, since I do really enjoy Jade and Caz in it.
Part I
Word count: 1,220
TWs for swearing, gambling, and references to food, violence and objectification
Taglist (ask to be +/-) below the cut. If you have specific excerpts you'd prefer to be tagged in, let me know.
Jade pressed hard against the door, stumbling slightly onto the concrete platform. It was a warm night, but the rooftop was high up enough that the wind dried her sweat and chilled her skin. She shivered.
“Want my jacket?”
Caz had suddenly appeared behind her.
“Why?” Jade looked up at him.
“I don’t get cold easily,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought maybe -”
A sharp wind knocked his hat off his head — Jade was trying to remember when he had put on a hat — and he took off after it, snatching it before it could fly off the edge of the building. He stood there a moment. There were no stars, but the city gave off its own light, the buildings glowing warm yellow, royal purple, and neon blue.
“Hell of a view,” he said.
“Yeah,” Jade came up behind him. “I come here when I get — frustrated, I guess — at the casino.”
She looked over to him and crossed her arms.
“Like when creeps make remarks about my ass before a game.”
“That’s painting an unfair picture,” he replied. “I could very well have been commenting on your chest.”
“I should throw you off this building.”
“I’d like to see that, Jade Shaw,” he said, smiling as though he really did.
The wind hit them again, and Jade gestured to Caz to follow her to a bench near a storage shed, lit by a single outdoor light. Jade took the ancient pack of cards and began to deal, laying the cards flat on the worn wooden slats.
“Funny,” Caz remarked. “How the cards aren’t blowing away at all.”
Jade raised an eyebrow at him.
“Must be the shed blocking the wind,” she said.
“Really? Thought it might’ve been the same reason your hair hasn’t fallen out of place in the breeze,” he said. “But what do I know?”
Jade’s hair was moving in the wind. But instead of snapping away from her head like Caz’s hat, it moved lazily, as if underwater. She focused on the cards before her.
“What are we wagering here?” she asked.
“This should do,” Caz said, setting a stack of money down.
Jade stared at him for a moment.
“No,” she said.
“No?” he asked. “You of all people should know that’s not how it works, Jade Shaw.”
“I don’t have that kind of money.”
He leaned back, looking almost irritable for the first time.
“I know you won that poker game,” he said. “You have cash.”
“That’s not money for playing around with,” she replied. “That’s my earnings for the week.”
He pushed a hand through his styled hair.
“But you said -” he began, before sighing and letting his lanky arms sink to his sides in defeat.
Jade almost laughed. She preferred this bedraggled response to his affected comments from earlier, and was going to say so, when she heard a noise.
“What was that?” she asked.
“My stomach,” he said, resting a hand on his waist and flushing. “I’m hungry, okay?”
He stared at Jade for a moment, as though calculating something, before just missing the cards as he planted a hand on the bench to lean close to her.
“Have dinner with me,” he said with a grin.
Jade winced as his metallic scent hit her again. She realized it was coming from his mouth.
“As part of the bet,” he continued. “We do this one round. If you win you get my cash; if I win you come to dinner with me.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jade asked. “What century are you from?”
This comment, for whatever reason, caused him to throw back his head with laughter. It was surprisingly high-pitched and grated on Jade’s ears and nerves.
“That wasn’t that funny,” she said, when he finally stopped.
“Come on,” he pleaded. “You can’t be afraid of losing, can you? With your track record?”
“I have that record for a reason,” Jade said. “It’s not about luck. It’s about playing smart.”
“So what you’re saying is,” Caz grinned. “You don’t have a good hand.”
“I never said that,” she said.
Caz brought his hand to his chin.
“Well, alright,” he said. “Cute, though, how you put on a show downstairs but can’t take the heat one on one.”
Jade’s nostrils flared. Then, in a swift motion, she set her cards down.
“Fine,” she said. “I’m in.”
“Wonderful,” Caz said.
He revealed his hand.
“Straight,” he said. “Good thing you’re already dressed up. What are you hungry for?”
Jade stared at him for a moment, her mouth twitching.
Then she burst into a loud, braying laugh.
“Cute?” she asked between breaths. “You call me cute, and then try to make it out like you’ve got some big reveal for me.”
She turned over her cards.
“Full house,” she said, plucking up the stack of cash. “How much exactly did you put down here anyway?”
Caz scanned Jade with wide, admiring eyes.
“You set me up,” he said.
“I didn’t tell you to wager this much cash,” Jade said, counting the money. It was an impressive amount.
Caz gathered up the cards, putting the deck back in his jacket.
“I still want to buy you dinner,” he said.
“I think I can buy plenty of meals on my own, now,” Jade replied.
She watched as Caz stood and put on his hat, holding it tight as another breeze hit them. He crossed his arms and stared out over the skyline. He really did look hungry, Jade thought.
“How about I buy you dinner?” she asked.
Caz looked over at her.
“Or how about,” she began, standing up to face him. “You buy me dinner, and I buy you yours? Equal exchange. No one owes the other anything.”
Caz surprised her with a wide grin and a quick laugh.
“That actually sounds perfect, Jade,” he said, with that quick laugh again. “I help you, and you help me. Equal exchange. I like that a lot.”
He started towards the door they had come from.
“Wait,” Jade said. “There’s another exit we can leave from. It goes to the freight elevator.”
Caz crossed his arms and cocked his head, his hat casting a shadow across his face.
“So tell me, Jade Shaw, what was the purpose of climbing God-knows-how-many flights of stairs, then?”
Jade ran a finger along the pattern of beads on her hip, as if scratching an itch.
“It’s part of the strategy. I bring someone up here, make sure they’re tired and disoriented, and it’s an easier hustle,” she said, her voice halting with the admission. “I just didn’t expect you to be so, um, spry. Not that it mattered.”
Caz had stepped close enough that his coppery breath was falling on her again. But when he took off his hat, Jade saw he had a wide, amused grin.
“So I was just another unsuspecting prey to you, Black Widow? Should I expect you to bite my head off, later?”
“That depends how hungry I’m feeling,” she said. She was surprised by how bold she sounded.
Caz threw his head back and laughed that shrieking laugh again. He placed his hat back on his head and let his hands fall into his silver pockets.
“We’d better get you something to eat, then.”
Taglist (ask to be +/-): @author-a-holmes, @avian-writes, @diphthongsfordays, @drippingmoon, @faelanvance, @joaniejustwokeup, @mjayatlas, @purplezebraproductions, @rhymingteelookatme, @vylequinne
