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warning 18+ wlw mean aunt f!toji x bratty niece f!reader🎀 ─────────────────────────── cw age gap, toxic familial dynamic, incest (aunt/niece), manipulation, pussy slapping, tribbing, cunnilingus, finger sucking, hair pulling, spanking, slapping, spit, orgasm control, phone humiliation, squirting, food play

she always smelled like something expensive. sweet, warm, powdery, a perfume that clung to her skin and hair no matter how long she stayed. the scent filled the whole hallway when she walked in. high heels clicking against the tile, hips swaying like she knew every pair of eyes was going to follow her. they always did. your uncles would stand up straighter. your brother would roll his eyes and pretend not to stare. your father would lower his voice when he spoke to her. and your mother would force a smile so tight her lips looked like they were drawn on with a pencil. but you never said anything. you just watched. waited. because no matter how much everyone acted like she was too much, she always came for you first.

you hated that you liked it.

she called you lazy. selfish. dramatic. told your mother you were never going to be worth anything if you kept eating like that, sleeping like that, walking around like some wide-eyed little brat with nothing to offer. she’d say it while tapping your cheek with two long fingers, nails painted wine red, the rings on her hand cold against your skin. she said it like she hated girls like you. like you embarrassed her. but every time she said it, her eyes would drop to your mouth. her lips would twitch like she was holding back a smirk.

you knew she liked you soft. knew she wanted you to be useless.

auntie toji always brought something. lip gloss, gold-capped. mini compacts that smelled like candy. chocolate imported from somewhere you couldn’t pronounce. a tiny bralette you never asked for in a size smaller than what fit. she’d sit on the couch with one leg crossed high over the other, her heel bouncing in the air, and call you over without even looking at you. then she’d pull you into her lap, right in front of everyone, hand sliding under your thigh to squeeze it like it was nothing. her tits would be right there. always. always in something tight and silky, low cut and soft, pressed up against your back or brushing against your cheek when she turned her head. they bounced every time she laughed. every time she adjusted herself. every time she pulled her shirt off in the hallway like no one else was home.

and you looked.

you always looked.

she fed you during dinner like you were some doll she brought with her. fingers dipped into your plate, thumb brushing sauce across your lower lip, other hand still resting on your thigh. once, when you tried to pull away, she whispered something too soft to hear and tugged you back down, nails dragging against the inside of your leg. and she smiled through the whole meal like she wasn’t touching you. like nobody saw. but you saw. you felt it. every time. and after dinner, she kissed you goodbye the same way she always did two fingers on your chin, lips pressing slow and wet against yours, just long enough to make your stomach twist.

she never kissed anyone else like that.

and when she traveled, she sent pictures. nothing full nude. just enough. thighs crossed in sheer stockings, tits pushed together in a hotel mirror, red lipstick smeared just a little at the corner of her mouth. sometimes she’d caption it with something stupid. wish you were here. or bought this for you. but it was always her in it. always her posing like she wanted to be watched.

you hated how it made you feel. hated how you stared. how you saved them. how you touched yourself to the one where her bra strap was slipping down and her expression looked just a little too bored.

because she wasn’t just any aunt. she was auntie toji.

tall. dangerous. soft-bodied and curvy like every part of her could swallow you whole and still want seconds. she wasn’t like your mom. she wasn’t like anyone. and she treated you like something sweet she kept hidden in her purse. something sticky and secret and breakable.

and one day, she was going to ask you to prove it.

it started like any other evening. background noise, air thick with something too warm for the living room fan to fix. you were curled up in the corner of the couch with your legs bent and spread open without thinking, one foot resting on the cushion, skirt bunched up too high. the cotton between your thighs was soaked from sweat and softness, maybe more, maybe not, but the damp patch was there, pale pink turning darker with every subtle shift. your phone buzzed on your chest. some stupid tiktok edit. a scene from the new squid game season with sad music and overly saturated colors. your eyes barely blinked, lips parted in a soft pout while you scrolled through comments like your brain wasn’t even fully on. you didn’t hear the click of her heels until she was already standing in front of you.

auntie toji wore that dress. the one you hated. the one that hugged her hips and chest like a second skin and left nothing to the imagination except maybe how her ass moved when she walked. her tits were high, full, pushed together beneath the sheer mesh, and her legs looked longer than your future in those sky-high platform heels. everything about her was designed to remind everyone of what they weren’t. she didn’t even ask before sitting next to you, just smoothed her dress beneath her and crossed one leg over the other with a soft sigh like she was the one relaxing.

then her eyes dropped.

you didn’t move.

she reached between your legs with two fingers, red nails sharp and curved and slow. she didn’t push. not at first. just pressed the pad of one fingertip against the center of your damp cotton and smiled when it gave way beneath her. your thighs twitched. her hand didn’t stop. she rubbed in a small circle, not enough to get you off, just enough to stain her nail with heat and wetness, enough to feel the shape of you pressing back against the fabric. she clicked her tongue and said it like she was disappointed, like it wasn’t something she was enjoying.

legs open again. what’s this, baby?

you didn’t look up. just chewed your lip and flicked to the next video.

yeah. and?

her fingers were on you before the screen even lit up again. two of them, long and slow, dragging up the crotch of your panties until the fabric pulled tight across your folds. her nails pressed just enough to make the heat flood up your spine. you tensed. she giggled.

damn. you’re soaked.

she laughed like it was funny, like she was teasing, but her eyes dropped lower, staring at how the fabric stuck to you when she lifted it. your cunt twitched. her fingers slid back down and slapped it not hard, just enough to make you gasp and drop your phone to your stomach. her nails tapped against your clit through the fabric. your thighs jumped.

that how you sit in front of your cousins? you want someone to put their cock on this pretty pussy or what?

you rolled your eyes and spread your legs wider, slow and bratty, tongue pressed against the back of your teeth as you looked up at her like you were daring her to go further.

what if i do?

she froze for half a second. you saw it the way her throat moved when she swallowed, the way her fingers twitched. then she slapped your cunt again, harder this time, open palm right over your puffy lips, and you moaned low in your throat.

you filthy little thing. your pussy’s begging for it.

nah, you’re the only one who touches it. maybe you’re the one who wants cocks in your pussy.

you dragged your fingers up your own thigh, lazy, glossy-eyed, hips tilting up as she watched you with her tongue wetting her bottom lip. she didn’t laugh that time. she didn’t deny it either. just reached for your panties, slipped her fingers under the edge, and dragged them to the side with a hum.

you want to get waxed, baby? maybe we go to the spa. just me and you. i’ll tell them to leave it bare. smooth and tight and shiny. like a brand-new little cunt for me to play with.

her fingers brushed your bare lips. you twitched, whining softly. she patted it. slapped it once more. watched the way it bounced back open.

you scoffed and rolled your eyes again, grinning against her shoulder.

you just want to see it up close. you’re the one in heat.

her hand came down again. harder. a sharp slap right against your clit. your thighs flinched but you didn’t close them. she looked proud of that.

mm, maybe. maybe i do wanna see it red and wet and spread out for me.

she shifted closer on the couch, slipped one arm behind your back, tugged you toward her until your head dropped onto her chest, cheek pressed against the swell of her tits. you could feel the skin warm through the dress. her other hand was still between your legs. rubbing now. circling slow.

you’re getting worse every time i visit. mouthy. messy.

you breathed in her perfume. sweet. thick. like sugar melting in heat.

then stop visiting.

her fingers slipped lower. you moaned.

no chance.

she always acted like she wasn’t doing anything wrong. even now, sitting next to you on the couch with her tits spilling out of that tight dress, her heels kicked off but her perfume still strong in the air, sugary and humid like it had melted into her skin. her legs were crossed, her hair pinned back, her voice soft. like she was just catching up. like this was normal.

so i met this guy, she says, dragging her wet fingers out of your pussy like she’s tasting wine, the movement slow, dragging slick between your thighs until your whole cunt twitches open from how swollen it is. her other hand toys with your panties, pinching the damp fabric between her red nails and flicking it lightly against your clit like she’s bored.

you’re laid back against the couch, head tilted toward her shoulder, skirt bunched up around your hips, and your thighs spread wide like you’ve already given up the idea of modesty. her fingers are glistening, warm, soaked in you. she lifts them and presses them to your mouth with that same voice she uses when she’s telling you what shampoo to buy.

open, baby. come on.

you rolled your eyes. you take them between your lips, suck them slow, tongue dragging against her rings, teeth grazing her knuckles. you make eye contact as you moan around her fingers, and she smiles like you’re doing her a favor.

good girl.

fuck off with that.

her eyes light up like you gave her a gift. she laughs, all pretty and smug, and lets her tits fall forward as she leans down over you, the weight of them pressing to your chest, soft and warm and heavy under the mesh of her dress. you frown, push your palm against one.

can you fucking cover those cow tits?

she gasps fake, high, dramatic and slaps your inner thigh hard enough to sting but not enough to hurt. your cunt clenches when she does it.

rude. and here i was, letting you taste yourself like a spoiled little niece.

you roll your eyes and open your legs wider, cunt glistening now, panties pulled to the side, your slick smeared across your thighs.

don’t act like you’re not loving it.

her mouth twitches. her fingers return two this time, sliding back in without warning, curling deep, pressing up inside you until you shiver. she pulls your panties tighter against your pussy with the other hand, rubbing them slow across your clit as her fingers work deep, steady, practiced.

he’s older, she says, like she’s telling you about a nail appointment. has money. car’s ugly, though. red and loud and obnoxious. like his dick probably is.

you groan into her chest, eyes rolling.

jesus. you’d talk about his dick while your fingers are inside me.

she giggles. kisses the top of your head. doesn’t stop moving her hand.

multitasking. you should try it sometime, instead of lying around leaking through your panties every time someone gives you attention.

you bite her breast. she gasps again, laughing louder now, voice breathy as she presses her palm hard against your mound and rubs in circles.

he said he liked my energy.

what, fake and horny?

slap. this time right to your pussy. loud, wet, and sharp. your hips buck. she does it again, then slips her fingers back in and starts fucking you for real. her voice stays light.

you’re such a mouthy little brat. can’t even shut up when i’m feeding you your own pussy.

you moan, loud, sloppy. she leans down and kisses you hard, tongue slipping in like it belongs there, and you let her. because it does. because you’re soaked. because you’re clenching. because her fingers feel like the only thing real in the room.

she’ll talk the whole time she ruins you. and you’ll keep mouthing off. because that’s the game. and you’re her favorite.

the dress slipped off. maybe it was when she leaned forward and the straps fell down her shoulders, maybe when she shifted to straddle your lap and dragged it down like she was tired of pretending. either way, her tits were out now, full and heavy and flushed pink, nipples hard and sticky with sweat, swaying slightly as she moved above you. she reached behind your head and pulled you forward by the roots of your hair, pressing your face into them like it was a reward.

see what you’re missing when you chase boys? they don’t have these.

you mumbled something against her skin, mouth open, tongue flicking under the curve of her breast just to make her twitch. she laughed and arched her back, grinding against your lap, her cunt bare now, soft curls brushing your thigh, slick already smearing on your skin. your panties were off. somewhere on the floor. your shirt was pushed up around your neck and your nipples were pressed flat against hers as she rocked her hips down harder, cunt dragging over your stomach, the heat of her body spreading everywhere.

this is better than any man i’ve ever had. better than their fingers, better than their lies, better than some half-hard dick humping me like a fucking dog.

you scoffed and grabbed her tits with both hands, shaking them, biting one hard enough to make her gasp and slap your thigh.

bitch, you talk too much.

she moaned when you said it. loud and shameless, her voice breaking as she rolled her hips again and again, grinding her pussy over yours now, slick lips meeting slick lips, the soft press of her bush against yours making you both groan. it was hot. humid. the air thick with the smell of sweat and cunt and perfume. your clits slid past each other with every shift of your hips, and her nails dug into your thighs as she fucked down against you, hair sticking to her neck, lips parted.

your pussy’s so soft, baby. i love it like this. hot and sticky. i could rub on it all day.

she leaned down and kissed you, tongue licking into your mouth like she was drunk on it, breath catching every time her clit slid just right against yours. you grabbed her ass and pulled her harder, your pussy throbbing, lips flushed and raw from how wet you were, how swollen everything felt. she pushed one hand between you and reached back, pulling a cucumber from the edge of the couch where she’d tucked it earlier, like she fucking planned it.

her smile was wicked.

wanna share?

she pressed it to her cunt first, the cool skin slicking up immediately from how soaked she was, rubbing it against her folds, then pushed the tip in shallow, moaning as her lips spread open. she rode it slow, just the head, then pulled it out and slapped it against your pussy, hard and wet, laughing when you gasped.

don’t act shy now. you’ve been leaking since i kissed your mouth.

you spread your legs wider, your bush sticky with her slick and yours, everything swollen and twitching, and she slid it into you slow, pushing the same cucumber she just fucked into your cunt until you arched your back and cursed. her fingers rubbed your clit while she did it. her other hand pinched your nipple. you felt everything.

then she pulled it out and put it back inside herself.

back and forth. again. slow. dragging it through both of you until it was soaked, the base slippery with cream, her thighs shaking as she started grinding on you again.

fuck i could cum just from the smell of us. we’re disgusting.

your fingers gripped her hips, helping her move, dragging her pussy back over yours, her curls matted now, your lips kissing, sticking, catching on each other. she moaned louder, higher, her whole body shaking as her thighs tensed.

fuck. fuck baby. i’m gonna—

her words cut off with a full-body jolt. she squirted against you hard, slick spraying against your cunt, her voice wrecked, breath hitching as her clit pulsed over yours. your own orgasm hit seconds after, pussy clenching, everything dripping and wet and hot between you. you were both soaked. couch ruined. thighs slippery. the cucumber slid from her hand and thudded to the floor. neither of you moved.

her tits lay heavy on your chest again. her breath tickled your ear.

see? better than men.

you smirked, spit still on your lips, pussy twitching under hers.

fuck men.

she giggled.

i already did. now i’m done.

her legs were already spread when she pulled you back in. thighs flushed, cunt sticky and glossy from the mess you’d both made earlier. she sat back against the couch like she owned it, like she always had, her hair pinned up now, chest rising slow, that lazy look in her eyes like she was about to be pampered. you were on your knees again, no panties, skirt gone, your mouth hovering just over her cunt as she picked up her phone. you watched her unlock it. slow. casual. she hit call, speaker off, lips curling as she looked down at you.

you knew the name on the screen. dealership man. her little sugar project. the one she bitched about two orgasms ago.

as the line rang, she reached down with two fingers and pulled your face closer, pressing your nose right against the crease of her thigh, your mouth flush with her folds. you could feel how wet she still was warm and sticky, her bush soft against your chin, the smell of her so thick it coated your tongue before you even licked. she didn’t give you time to hesitate.

go ahead, baby. be quiet though.

then he picked up. her voice changed instantly, soft and warm and sweet like syrup.

hi, mm. yeah, i got your text, i was just relaxing at home.

you licked her. slow, deliberate, dragging your tongue from the base to her clit. she didn’t flinch. didn’t miss a beat. her thighs shifted only slightly, pressing in on your ears like earmuffs.

you started again, tongue working in slow circles around her clit, lips sucking just enough to make her hips twitch, and she breathed out like she was reacting to the man, not you.

mmhmm. oh, no, i’m just laying on the couch. it’s been a long day.

you pulled her labia apart with your thumbs, mouth sloppy now, spit soaking into the trimmed curls around her cunt. she kept talking. every time she let her voice drip through the line, you licked harder, angrier, her taste salty and warm, her pussy so slick it started coating your chin.

when you nibbled teeth just grazing her swollen clit her hand snapped down immediately. slap. not hard. not even mean. just sharp. a quick hit to your cheek that made you flinch and grind your knees into the floor.

be nice.

you pulled back, spit pooling in your mouth, and let it fall. thick. hot. right onto her cunt. it slid down between her folds, sticky and warm, mixing with her slick. she gasped softly and cleared her throat mid-call, lifting her heel to press it between your shoulder blades, forcing your face back down.

mm, no, sorry, i thought i heard something outside. yeah.

she grabbed your hair and started moving your head for you, fucking your face onto her cunt, dragging your lips across her clit in steady strokes like she was using you to unwind. you couldn’t breathe. didn’t care. your mouth was open, tongue flicking, chin rubbing up against her entrance while your hands gripped the tops of her thighs. her legs trembled once. twice.

she didn’t stop talking.

no, i’d love to. lunch sounds good. mm, thursday? i might have a spa thing but i’ll see.

you started moaning against her. soft at first, then louder. your hips swayed, ass high in the air, legs spread shameless, your own cunt dripping down your thighs from the heat and rhythm of it. you looked pathetic. grinding the air while your aunt used your mouth like a toy, voice sweet and airy as she scheduled a date with another man.

her hand yanked your hair again, tighter this time, keeping your face pinned as her thighs squeezed around your ears.

slow down. don’t act desperate.

you mumbled something back against her folds and she smirked.

you’re lucky he can’t hear how wet your mouth sounds right now.

your tongue licked deeper, sharper now, your lips sucking on her clit while she gasped and let it melt into the call.

mm. thursday’s perfect.

she came on your mouth like it was your job. legs shaking, cunt pulsing, fingers in your hair pulling hard while your tongue stayed flat and greedy. her slick coated your nose and your chin and you didn’t care, didn’t even try to move when she gasped and grinded harder, hips rolling with short desperate stutters. you tasted everything. her sweat. her spit. her cum. she shivered through it and kept her phone pinned to her ear, her voice barely trembling as she muttered yeah, just stretching while her thighs clenched around your face and her clit throbbed against your tongue. she came, and you felt it. the whole mess of it. and then she wasn’t done.

her body was still warm and twitching when she pulled you up by the back of your neck, licking her own cum off your lips like it was a casual kiss, then pushed you forward onto your stomach with one smooth shove. you barely caught yourself on the cushions before she was behind you again, pulling your ass up high like she was arranging a pillow. your legs spread instinctively, and your pussy was so wet the air made you flinch. the slick clung everywhere your thighs, your inner lips, your puffy clit, already flushed from grinding against the couch earlier.

and then she started slapping. not playfully. not lightly. her hand came down open and firm, straight onto your cunt, knuckles dragging against your folds on the way up. the sound was obscene. a fat wet smack that echoed off the walls and made your hips jerk up even higher. again. again. her palm slapped the swollen curve of your pussy, flat against the center where it was hottest, her fingers catching on your sticky lips and spreading your slick across your mound. the noise was sharp and fast, every impact louder than the last. your pussy was so soaked that each hit sounded like it was landing in water. she didn’t stop to ask if it was too much. she didn’t ask anything.

you moaned hard into the cushion, your ass swaying without you meaning to, hips tilting back into her hand, desperate for more. every slap made your clit twitch. your whole pussy felt swollen, glossy, abused. she rubbed it slow between the strikes, two fingers circling just enough to pull a whine out of you before she slapped it again, this time right over the top, her palm dragging down your lips as your legs trembled.

slutty little body just can’t help itself, huh? look at how you’re fucking dripping. you think a man could do this to you? he’d be scared of how loud this pussy sounds. scared of how messy it is.

she was still on the call. her voice turned polite again, talking about schedules, about thursday evening, while her hand smacked the heat between your thighs, slow and steady. wet and filthy. you swayed your hips like a bitch in heat, back arched, pussy clenching every time she rubbed it. her nails grazed the curve of your lips and her palm dragged back up and slapped again, making the slick spray across your thighs.

you were panting now, your voice shaking with each moan, your legs spread so wide you thought your hips would cramp. her hand never stopped. rub, slap, rub, slap. each sound louder, sharper, messier. your pussy started leaking hard, everything soaking, the couch beneath you growing darker from where your slick was dripping, pooling under your body.

then her fingers found your clit and she didn’t tease. she pressed. circled. rubbed you with the heel of her palm while two fingers slapped upward from below, hitting your clit from underneath until your whole body seized.

say my fucking name.

you choked on it. moaned it into the cushion. your ass twitched. her name slipped from your throat and her fingers didn’t slow.

again.

you screamed it this time. desperate. loud. your thighs started shaking violently. your whole body locked up.

you squirted like it was being forced out of you.

it hit her palm. splashed across your thighs. soaked the couch. your body convulsed, cunt pulsing so hard it felt like it was crying, and she held your hips still with both hands now, grinding your pussy down against the wet cushion like she was trying to milk the last of it out of you.

you were gasping. twitching. your slick was everywhere. and she leaned forward with the phone still in her hand and said

sorry, that was just the blender.

and smiled like nothing had happened.

to everyone who read this mess: thank you. sincerely. i write these stories half as a joke and half because i know some of you are just as depraved as me and it feels good to be seen.

to my regulars: you know i love you. to the new girlies shaking and crying in the corner, welcome home. and to the moral police… again? babes, take a break. the block button is right there. go write your own guilt-free fluff if that’s your lane. i’m not changing mine.

thank you again for all the love, the chaos, the unhinged reactions. keep being disgusting. i’ll keep feeding you.

xoxo, your problem 🎀

onlypinkslut

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Meeee!!!

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girls who get hard in response to pain i owe you 20% of my earnings for the rest of my natural lifespan

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the shimp got too much attention and now there are transphobes in my notes, this is a transgender blog run by a transgender dyke. fuckers.

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AAAAAAAA OMG YOUR WRITING IS SO GOOD MY BRAINWORMS ARE FUCKIN FEASTING THE WORLD NEEDS MORE T4T YANDERES

AHDHVSDHVDIV THANK YOUUUUUU :333333

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in case I haven't said it already, all my characters are trans even if not explicitly stated. unless there is a good narrative reason to think a character is cis (eg, character is actively transphobic), that character is intended to be read as trans.

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eldritch monsters, my beloved

[OC] i miss drawing my eldritch monster oc soooo bad 🐙

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one must, IMAGINE DRAGONS, perchance?

One must imagine a dragon Affini guarding her floret like treasure

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as a tgirl i love your blog so much <3

i want to write x readers that are transfem centric but my anxiety goes through the roof :///

anyways love your work 💕💕

EFHSDSFVNASD;LHGJB thank youuuuuuuuuuu ^^

pretty please write more. I need more transfem yan content then just the stuff I write :3

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another day, another, reading through descriptions of xenodrug classes and getting flustered

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AHDIAHDUSVRJSBFJSBFJD THE RECKONING WAS SO GOODDDDHJFFNHG

just some good smutty fluff to make a poor tgirl with sick fantasies feel comfy and loved,,,

God you are an absolute TREAT sufiahauagdjGfjfmgngkdgksjgkdng

AWWWJFEIHGSK I'm so glad you like it :3

also I'm naming you

you are officially "🫀 Anon"

get named idiot :3

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The Reckoning

medium length, Yan, Oneshot, Sequel to Northern Star but can be read on its own

Kidnapper Yan! x Touchstarved Reader! (fem descriptors used, both characters intended to be trans and have dicks)

TW: noncon, kidnapping, light blood play, implied murder

Link to previous story

You awoke, as you had for the past three weeks, in captivity. Your arms and ankles wrapped in fine leather, padlocked and attached to chains attached to wherever Clair wanted them. Currently, that place was the bed frame. 

As you opened your eyes you saw her staring at you, her expression overjoyed, her hands softly scratching your scalp. 

“Hi Mommy.”

“Good morning princess. Sleep well?” 

“You’d know better than me, freak.” 

Her hand slipped around your neck and tightened. 

“Aww, are we being a brat this morning?”

Your blush was immediate. It wasn’t fucking fair how easily she could push you into sub space. Most of the time she treated you like you were made of glass, but every once in a while, she got like this. 

She pinned you like it was nothing, then sunk her teeth into you. Her hand moved to obstruct your breathing. Her apparent favorite method of control. 

“Are we, puppy?” 

You muffled out your response under a heavy shade of blush.

“N-no Mommy! Sorry Mommy!” 

She moved her hand and peppered your face in kisses. 

“That’s my good, obedient girl. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to give you your gift~”

“Gift?”

You wracked your brain trying to figure out what there could possibly be left to give you. Your room was as large as it could be while still being cozy, it was filled with every plushie you had ever owned or wanted to own, you had a cavernous closet filled with with clothes for any imaginable occasion, an excessive gaming setup, complete with every console you’d ever heard of along with their complete library of games, a mini fridge that was constantly refilled with new snacks, and a top of the line pc with a custom operating system designed to let you access the internet, but never communicate through it. Every time you tried to leave a comment on a video or post something, you got a popup reading “Nice Try Puppy ;)”. 

“Well doll, you’ve been so perfect for me, ever since you got here. And while I am still a little apprehensive at the idea of letting other “people” see you, I’ve decided you deserve to get taken out on a date.”

You perked up immediately, you had never expected to see the sky again, let alone be let out of the house.

“REALLY?!”

“Of course princess. But I’ll be keeping you on a short leash,” She tugged on the chain around your neck. “I’m going to have a hand on you at all times, you’ll tell me your order and I’ll give it for you, I won’t have anyone but me enjoying your voice, and if anyone so much as looks at you wrong, I’m taking you home immediately, and then killing that person.”

You didn’t doubt that last bit. Clair’s body was covered in a variety of scars, some jagged, others straight, but most were single raised circles, as if she’d been shot. On top of that, you’d caught lingering blood stains on several of her suits. When you asked about them she explained that they were from working. Whatever her job was, she made it clear it was dangerous, and that she had no intention of giving you any details.

She moved to separate your cuffs from the chains on your bed, kissing every inch of flesh in between her destinations. 

You whimpered in response 

“You make the sweetest little noises, doll, you know that? Now c’mon, let’s get you dressed.”

She swept you off the bed and carried you to the closet. 

“Can’t I just wear this?” 

“Your pajamas are adorable, princess, but far too recognizable. There's a picture of you wearing them on half a dozen posters across town.”

“I’m on fucking posters!?”

“language, princess, and yes. There’s a decently sized campaign by a workers rights group to try and find you. It’s my fault really, it was a somewhat bombastic choice, taking you while you were at your job.”

“You talk like a professor.” 

“I was one, for quite a few years.” 

Your jaw dropped. 

“WHAT!? HOW DID I NOT KNOW THIS?!” 

“I told you doll, knowing my history has the potential to be very… dangerous. I’d be devastated enough if anyone ever took you from me, but if they hurt you because you had information they wanted…” Tears were welling in her eyes, “well, I’d rather not think about that.” 

“Can I at least know the subject?” 

She paused for a moment, thinking. 

“Pleeeease Mommy!” You gave her a practiced look of desperation.

“English Literature,” She began the process of unbuttoning your top.

“Oh my god you can’t leave me with just that, you gotta tell me more!”

She set you on the ground, pulled off your shirt, and gagged you with the sleeve, tying your head to a nearby support beam. 

“I think you’ve used up your human words for the morning puppy. You can talk once we’re done dressing you. Until then, I’m afraid if you want to communicate any further, your gonna have to use that pretty little voice to bark~” 

You followed her orders by instinct, immediately quieting down, desperately trying to conceal your arousal.

She stepped away for a moment, coming back with several dresses on her arm

“Okay puppy, which one do you want to wear?”

You raised your hand to point but she interrupted you

“Arms down and at your side doll, that’s not how a puppy picks. You need to bark if you want to tell me which one you want. Of course I could always pick for you as well.” 

She paused for a moment, breathing in the sight of you completely at her mercy. Her expression was a frenzied lust. She stared at you as if she was seconds away from ripping away the rest of your clothes and fucking you until you passed out, and possibly after.

She shakily lifted up the first dress. Her entire body was tense. It was clear it took all her strength to stop herself from pouncing on you. 

“This one puppy?”

It was a tight black velvet number, that showed off entirely too much cleavage. Definitely not. She may have been enamored with your body, but you were far too self conscious to wear something so revealing. 

It was at this moment you realized she hadn’t given you any easy way to communicate through barks. 

Fuck. The game was rigged from the start. Eh, might as well keep playing

“Woof! Bark! Rough!” 

You tried as hard as you could to make a disapproving expression, but the gag made it difficult. 

“What’s that? I can’t understand what your saying puppy~” 

You pleaded with your eyes. 

“WOOF! WOOF!”

“This is just too bad, puppy, I haven't the faintest clue what you're trying to say. I guess we’ll just have to pick this one~” 

Her expression was a manic glee filled grin as she pulled away your pants. you were rock hard. 

“What’s this puppy?” 

She lowered herself to your level and straddled your hips, grinding against you while she listened to you whimper. 

“You sound so fucking beautiful right now princess. You're so goddamn perfect for me.”

She buried your face into her chest while she stroked your hair. 

“Such a pretty girl.”

She pushed your cock up against hers. 

“Is there something you want?”

You nodded desperately barking in approval. 

“That’s too bad, doll.” 

You desperately mewled your disappointment when she stood. 

“Awww, poor princess. You’re gonna have to wait till after our date. We wouldn't want you getting all sweaty before going out, would we doll?” 

You frowned as she untied you and slipped you into the dress. Your assumptions about it proved correct. It was far too tight and low cut. It was built to show you off.

“Christ your fucking gorgeous in that, princess.” 

You could see her excitement building. Two things had become clear about her. She desperately loved showing you off as her prize, and she bitterly hated the idea of anyone else even looking at you. 

She picked you up and brought you to the door of the room. Setting you down, she removed the leather shackles around your wrists and ankles, and clipped a leash onto your collar.

“Is that really necessary? You know I’m not gonna run away, right?”

“It makes my heart burst with pride to hear you say it, and I wouldn’t be taking you out if it wasn’t true, but even then, the world’s a big scary place. It's all too easy to get lost in. I just wouldn’t feel right letting you out without something to ensure that we won’t get separated. Okay doll?”

“Yes Mommy.” 

She unlocked the door to your room and led you out. Walking out the door you found yourself in a hallway that extended half a mile in either direction, with around 5 doors both to the left and right of the one that led into your room. Everything around you was cold, dimly lit, stone. In front of you was a single stairwell that seemed to lead up into the main house. 

“What is all this mommy?”

“My work requires me to have plenty of free, soundproof, space.” 

One of the doors jostled with a thud. 

“Let’s keep moving, puppy.”

Opening the heavily reinforced stairwell door, you found yourself in a house 30 times the size you’d pictured. It was utterly stunning. It was dark, almost oppressively so, with the walls, floors, and foundation all being made of oak stained so dark it was nearly black.  Every piece of furniture and decoration was either a hundred year old antique or brand new, the floors were electronically heated to the perfect temperature, and every corner of the rooms was blooming with plant life, all in peak condition. 

Moving through the halls was dizzying as you passed tens of locked doors and secret passages just to get to the exit. It hit you that escaping would be confusing but completely doable, but breaking in would be nearly impossible. This place wasn’t a prison, it was a vault, built with the express purpose of keeping you happy and protected from the outside world.  

Finally exiting the labyrinth, you entered the front yard. Everywhere you looked was perfectly manicured greenery and paved paths that seemed to lead on infinitely. You were surrounded by miles of forest in every direction, the only clear path out being the road that connected to the driveway

While you took in your surroundings, reeling at the sheer magnitude of the space around you. She watched you. Her face a deep shade of adoration. 

“You like it, princess?” 

“It makes me wonder why you even bothered with me, you’ve got a view here good enough for a lifetime.”

She moved behind you and held you tight.

“Trust me, doll, nothing else in the world comes close to comparing to you. The only reason I had this place built here was to have somewhere nice to take you on walks.” 

You fell back and let her carry you to the car. She set you down in the passenger's seat and then moved to hers. She reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a pair of glasses. Once she put them on she took a moment to look at you clearly. She smiled. 

“You wear glasses?”

She started the car.

“My eyes started going a few years back, so I use them for driving and reading.”

“What are you forty,” you said, with a playfully mocking tone. 

“I’m fourty-four, princess.” 

Your eyes widened. She started driving. 

“WHAT!?” 

“How old did you think I was, puppy?”

“I don't know, like mid 30’s! How are you forty-four!? You’re gonna die soon!”

She struggled to hold back laughs 

“Fourty-four isn’t THAT old, princess.”

“How could you have never told me!?”

“I thought you knew. Don’t you remember when you showed me that joke on your computer, I didn’t understand a word of it.”

“What about the custom operating system, how’d you make that then?!”

“I paid someone to do that, darling.”

“And they didn’t ask any questions? The whole premise of the system is so suspicious!”

“I just told them that I was a mother that needed something better than the usual parental blocks for my very crafty daughter.”

“But it blocks me from contacting emergency services!” 

“People will ignore a lot, for the right price.” 

You spent the next hour in complete shock as she drove.

As you reached the city you understood why she had to dye your hair and change your clothes. Right at the entrance of town, there was a massive billboard of your face with words under it, reading “HAVE YOU SEEN ME? CALL (555) 742-6391”. 

Driving past it, her face was disgusted. 

“Fucking worms. They’ve got no goddamn right to be showing your face like that. That’s my goddamn doll! No one else deserves to look at you.” 

 “Do you want to go back Mommy?”

“Do you want to?”

“I can.”

“Not a chance, princess. You deserve a reward for being such a good girl. And besides, my princess needs some natural sunlight. Sneaking vitamin D supplements in your food can only do so much.”

“That’s what those pills were?” 

“What did you think they were?”

“I don’t know, like sedatives maybe, and that’s why you can overpower me so easily?” 

She laughed hard enough it brought tears. 

“Oh honey, I don’t need to drug you in order to make you weak. You're just so adorably vulnerable all on your own, doll. It really is a miracle you made it so long on your own.” 

Eventually she pulled into the restaurant. It was some middle of nowhere diner. The neon sign on top read “Martha’s Burgers and Fries!”

She unclipped your leash and came around to meet you as you exited the car. She grabbed your arm tightly and pulled you close behind her into the diner. She looked nervous as she sat you at a booth in the far corner. 

Her eyes shifted around the restaurant suspiciously. 

“Is everything okay Mommy?” 

She squeezed your hand tight.

“Perfect. I’m just not used to having you out of your pretty little chains, puppy. It makes mommy a little nervous.” 

She squeezed close to her, letting her arm wrap around the small of your back. She pressed a kiss hard onto your cheek, staining it with lipgloss.

“So what do you want to order, doll?” 

“(your favourite food)” 

“Very good, puppy.” 

You sat there for a while in silence. Letting her get comfortable while she clung to you, desperate to keep you safe from the outside world. 

“How’d you live before you “rescued” me?”

“I didn’t really,” She held you tighter. “I spent all my free time watching you, I wasn’t far anytime you left, and when you were Home I would be planning your rescue while I watched you from the cameras I set up in your apartment.” 

“You had cameras?” you were blushing heavily. “How long were you watching me for exactly?”

She was smiling again watching you flustered.

“Oh, about a year, year and a half.” 

You melted in her arms thinking of all the things you had done while you thought you were alone. 

“It was torture. All I could do was watch and wait, helping occasionally from a distance.” 

She scanned the diner quickly for prying eyes and slipped her hand down your dress. You barely stifled a moan. 

“I do apologize for all the clothes I stole, it was just so fucking hard to resist. They smelled so much like you.” 

Her hand quickly retracted as a waitress approached. A shorter woman, who wore dark, heavy, makeup, and a heavily customized uniform, covered in spikes and studs. She looked familiar to you. Too familiar. 

“What can I get started for you ladies?” 

You recognized her voice, but you couldn’t quite place it under her forced upbeat persona. 

“I’ll have, a water and the house salad. And she’ll be having (your favorite food).” 

“Abso…” her eyes met yours. You looked down, quickly trying to hide your face, “...lutely. I’ll have that right out for you folks.” 

Fuck… Dawn.

“What’s wrong princess?”

“I know that girl. She was like my best friend in high school, and I think she recognized me.” 

She gripped your arm, reading you to get pulled out back to the car. 

“I’m so sorry we cut this short, princess. I promise Mommy will take you out again soon, somewhere much more remote.”

Before she could get out of the booth, Dawn returned holding your food. She looked at you again, recognition sparking in her eyes. 

“y/n?”

“No. We'll take the check now please.”

She placed down your food and before she could turn to leave, Clair grabbed her arm.

“You know I have a feeling you’re about to do something very stupid once you go into that back room. Why don’t you have a seat, and we can talk, calmly, about possibilities.” 

The flame in her eyes was burning hot. Dawn sat in the seat across from you and Clair. 

Dawn spoke. 

“Your fucking sick you know that? She has a goddamn family, friends, people that are worried about her!”

Clair held you possessively, trying to cover your ears.

“Are they now? They didn’t seem too worried about her when she was around.”

“Don’t you dare try to fucking moral high-ground me on this! You’re a fucking kidnapper!”

“I RESCUED this poor girl from her life. Sure she may not have originally agreed to come with me, but look at her, does she seem unhappy under my care?” 

You were cuddled into her side, her hand tangled in your hair, petting you. Despite the stress of the situation, you couldn’t help but smile as Clair doted on you. 

“You turned her into some fucking pet! You probably got her drugged up to get her to act like that you sick fucking pervert!” 

Frustration rose in your chest. 

“I’m not drugged. I’m just happy.”

Dawn looked at you shocked. 

“What the fuck do you mean?” 

“I mean she treats me well. Really really well. The best anyone has ever treated me. I get that it’s weird. She’s possessive and controlling and I don’t see the sun most days, but I love her, and I love my life.” 

“y/n, you’re fucking kidding me?! This is obviously Stockholm Syndrome! You have to get away from her.” 

“Who cares if it is? I’m happy. It’s odd, I get that, but I’m really happy. For the first time in my life, I look forward to tomorrow every day. C-can you please just let me choose this?” 

You were starting to cry. Clair wiped the tears from your cheeks as they fell. 

Dawn stared at you for a long time. Processing what you had told her. 

She stood and began walking away from the booth. 

“I guess I was wrong, it’s not you. All those posters have really been getting me paranoid. Sorry for disturbing you. Enjoy your meal.” The upbeat customer service ring had returned to her voice. 

“You made the right choice. Thank you.”

“I didn’t do it for you. I’ll be back with that check when you need it, you ladies have a nice meal.” 

You cuddled up to Clair and enjoyed your food as she petted you. Her adoration was palpable as she watched you eat.

“I’m so proud of you babygirl. You did such a good job sticking up for yourself.” 

“Thank you Mommy! I love you.”

“I love you too princess.” 

Link to previous story

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Waiting soso patiently for the northern star sequel I'm definitely not jittering and frothing at the mouth hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahha

N ormala

I’m sosososo sorry it’s taking so long :(((

i’m around 2/3 done but my computer broke and writing on my phone breaks my fingers :((((

i’m a couple days away from a new one and the first thing i’m gonna do is finish this story.

I promise to make it extra long to make up for the hiatus :((((

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Lysergide Daydream, Chapter 4: At Least It Was Here

Link To Previous Chapter

Reading Guide

AO3 Version

After a traumatic life event, it's best to stop, relax, and take some time to process. unfortunately the work of the Terran Navy, is never done

Emily:

She had once heard that humans were less sensitive to their own bodies’ smells. Emily could only imagine how another person would have felt about the stench of her vomit, given how thoroughly it disgusted her. 

She had spent nearly an hour in her bathroom, stuck in a hellish cycle of vomiting, retching at its smell, and then vomiting again–a cycle which was not at all helped by the ship’s infinitely recycled air making its way back to her in sickening waves. 

Flashes of the previous night’s events pummeled her memory.

Copper wire. Power regulator. Friend on our ship. 

James was so stars-damned fucked. She could slow the investigation for a couple of days. But everyone knew he was a criminal. It wasn't going to be difficult to figure out his previous relationship to Fennwright, and from there, matching up their schedules to the time of the crime would be simple.

Fuck. They were going to flay him. Cut out his tongue. Make him drown in his own blood. And she would have to watch. 

The crunch of tooth being torn from its roots came back to her along with another wave of recycled air. And so the cycle continued for stars knows how long, until there was a knock on the door.

James.

They needed to strategize immediately. Find someone to frame. Someone shitty. Someone they wouldn’t lose any sleep over. 

She opened the door to find Lieutenant Commander William Collins. A short man, with pale skin and black hair as thin as his puny body. He was holding what seemed to be a pastry box. 

Stars fucking damnit.

“Lieutenant.” She swallowed a grimace.

“Ms. Spring.” 

“Lieutenant will do.”

“Not by my standards, Ms. Spring,” Collins drawled. “You simply defy navy description.” 

“May I ask what business you have here?”

“I must insist I enter before providing my explanation.”

What the hell did he want? “I must insist you don’t.”

His expression soured, though it was difficult to tell whether he had been severely wounded by her response, or if he had simply caught a whiff of her breath.

“You must understand, it’s inside information I must tell you.”

“Then I can meet you in my office.”      

“Not that kind of inside. Your office…it would just be far too formal for this kind of information, you see. And so I must encourage you–nay, beseech you–to invite me in, so that we may speak in the proper setting.” 

“Can we please do this another time?” We just saw a man get his teeth ripped out. I need a breather.

His brow furrowed in frustration. 

“Well now you’ve ruined it, Ms. Spring. Ruined it quite thoroughly. I must now find an alternative time to deliver my information. But out of deference to your delicate sex, I leave you with the accompanying gift.” He presented the pastry box. “I insist you oblige me, so as to prevent its spoiling.” 

She grabbed it from his hand. He left in a rush, grumbling to himself with every step. She watched his figure disappear around a corner.

“This bitch,” she muttered.

James:

The Hercules’ laser aim system was guided by a series of hyper-reflective mirrors installed at the corners of the tight metal piping that led to the exterior of the ship, right under its long range weaponry. 

These mirrors needed to be regularly polished to ensure maximum reflectiveness. 

James was crushed on all sides as he squirmed through the lightless innards of the guidance system. He laid flat on his stomach, his arms straight ahead of them, one hand holding a cloth, the other a spray bottle filled with glass polish. He pushed forward using his toes, as they were the only flexible part of his body small enough to maneuver in the confined environment. At each turn, he searched for the low glint of a reflector to polish. The tubing at these spots opened up just enough to allow him to apply the polish, and to move past without smudging it if he sucked in his stomach. His thighs and underarms burned as they pushed against the metal below him, reopening old wounds. 

Damned consequences of his actions.

It would have been nice to have some time to recover after the previous hours… display, but he supposed being kept on edge was the point. They wanted him to screw up and reveal himself.

And so he kept steely. He needed to finish his shift as normal, sneak out of bed that night, and meet up with Emily. Then they could strategize. What clues had he left behind? The disappearance of the power regulator was documented at 15:30. So was the time his battalion had been left unaccounted for. His battalion was already in the top suspects for the regulator thief because of how the times matched. 

This meant his battalion would similarly be the most likely group to have the traitor. The navy would certainly recognize this, and from there, he’d be the top suspect as a criminal. 

Who did he have that would cover for him? Weyland? They were certainly friendly. But friendly enough to lie to Scrivello? He doubted it. Hollis? They had talked a few times. James had certainly made him laugh. Fuck, what was his first name? Something with an s. Sam? Seth? Scott? Scott! Right? Damn it–they weren’t nearly close enough. 

Stars, who was he close to aside from Emily? Ben, he supposed. But then again, copying James’ digital files had cost nothing to him, and still he demanded that James bring him the copper wire to trade. Even after James had made it clear how much of a risk it would be to get. He dug his nails into his palm. He had to be closer to more people than just Emily, right? Right?! 

There was… there was…

He felt sick.

People liked him? Right?!

He thought he had escaped the loneliness of his life as a pirate, but this… this was unbearable. He was surrounded by people. People that, just like him, were stuck on a freezing ship, with cruel bosses and nobody for company except other soldiers. And still, he couldn’t think of a single person who would be willing to defend him. 

Sure there was Emily, but she was different. A romantic relationship could survive off inertia alone. She didn’t actually need to like him. She would just need to convince herself that she did to avoid the awkwardness of breaking up with him. 

And besides, he was supplying her with illegal content, food, and comfort. He was convenient to have around. He didn’t need to be likeable, just useful. 

She could hate him and he’d have no idea. Hell, it’d happened before. 

His brain was on fire. The pressure behind his eyes was unbearable, but he needed to keep it in. 

It could be released tonight.

Tonight.

Once he reached the end of the piping he would be met with a final pain of glass to clean. A perfectly clear, hyper-reinforced, air-locked, bullet proof, Affni proof, window. The only one on the ship available to someone of his rank.When the tasks were first being handed out for the day, he had prayed to the fates not to get put on reflector-polishing. But now, looking outside at the vast expanse of black sky, he saw why they hadn’t listened. It was a gift: one final view of the outside before he met his fate. 

The fates had always been kind to him, even if it wasn’t immediately obvious.  

He ran his hands over his wrists, remembering the pain of his capture by the Terran Navy. The tightness of the zip-ties biting into his flesh. They’d caught him as he was raiding an abandoned data storage center, near the edge of terran space. 

They’d stripped his ship, The Chelsea Dagger, for parts, beat him nearly to death, and seized everything he’d ever owned–all while espousing their own greatness. Preaching how his belongings were property of the free terran people. How his body would serve as payment for his theft. 

He was no stranger to pain, but he’d always had a particular fear of needles. He shivered at the memory of getting his sentence tattooed onto him.

“INDENTURE TO THE FREE TERRAN NAVY FOR THE CRIME OF PIRACY UNTIL 02/28/2605”

Things didn’t get better on the ship, either. He spent his first three months as an indenture being trained in the ways of the Terran Navy. Their ways were structure, pain, and hunger.

 His body had spent years under-worked in the zero G of his ship and space data repositories, and now, under the new (albeit weak) gravity of The Hercules, it felt like his legs were breaking on every step. He was given no time to adjust before being put to work. 

In between training was sleeping and eating. Eating primarily involved having his rations taken by his crewmates, a further tax for his former criminality (or, at least, that was their excuse), and sleeping was its own insomnia-induced hell.

On The Dagger, he was able to avoid sleep, surrounded by the media he had collected and high on whatever he could synthesize from scavenged parts of abandoned ships. 

On The Hercules, he was left to endure the dark. His mind altered things when he was alone and undistracted. The walls shifted around him, objects moved on their own, insects poured from the ventilation and made their way into his bed, then crawled across his skin. He spent his nights desperately holding back screams as his mind assaulted him. 

He had felt helpless on The Hercules. Trapped. He knew something had to change; he couldn’t keep living like this. If he could find what the Terran Navy had stolen from The Dagger, then he could use it to bargain for his safety. He could trade items, pay people to protect him, and finally make himself comfortable. 

He spent the next week studying the patterns of every person who could have possibly held a key to the store room. Scott Hollis, the man in charge of inventory in James’s battalion common room, seemed particularly spacey. 

He kept his keys tied to his belt. All James needed to do was to cut the keys free while he was distracted. 

The next day, he made sure Scott woke up to every chair in the commons stacked on top of each other, forming a precarious middle finger.

He was so stunned that he didn’t flinch at his keys being cut, or notice the replica being placed in his pocket. 

From there, getting his things back was simple. He slipped into the storeroom that night. Opening the door he found mountains of un-organized junk piled to the ceiling. After a few hours he was able to recover some of his items, though far less than he would’ve liked. The absence of his master drive had particularly stung.

But with what he had, he was able to move up the social ladder. 

He built a network, people willing to pay for a few episodes of shows from their childhoods, music files, and old cowboy Christmas movies. Eventually, he’d accumulated enough items from trades that he could sell those as well. 

When he was called into Lieutenant Emily Spring’s office, he thought he was fucked. Word of his dealing had gotten to the brass, and now, they were going to kill him. 

He was surprised when she instead asked him for his pricing system and available products. 

From there, monthly meetings were scheduled for updates on his progress in tracking down the show she was after. Soon after, those meetings turned to weekly, then bi-weekly. After all, they both had the time, and they had to admit, they enjoyed each other's company. 

The first night they slept in the same bed together was heaven. They had tried sex at first, but quickly found that Emily wasn’t into the whole “sex” thing, and James obliged. It wasn’t really what he was interested in, in the first place. 

He just savored the time he got to sleep with someone else. Someone to ward away nightmares, to tell him the things he saw in the dark weren’t real, to talk long enough that he could fall asleep without noticing the ringing in his ears. 

It had taken time. But the fates had blessed him with something he hadn’t had even on The Dagger: peaceful sleep. And, of course, an amazing girlfriend.

He looked out the window. A final glance into endless, empty space. A starless sea so empty, the Affini would never think to look there. He relished the view for the time he could. His limbs were starting to fall asleep, and if they went numb, he’d be stuck. 

His stomach was tangled, knotted against itself, pressure building unbearably. 

He began the process of exiting the tunnels, pushing himself backwards with his fingers and toes. 

There was no escape from his future. He had at most a week before the brass found his connection to Ben. Once they did, they’d kill him. Or worse. 

Death would have almost been okay. He had lived well enough. All he’d really needed was food, TV, and someone to share it with. But what made him so inconsolably pissed off was the man who’d be pulling the trigger. Crawford had no right to his life. No one on that god-forsaken ship did.

No one except himself.

So he’d be the one to do it. He’d spend one last day finishing his business on the ship and then throw himself out the airlock. He’d already made a copy of the airlock room key years ago. He’d deny those bastards the satisfaction of killing him. 

They’d already stolen his life and his freedom. At least his death would be all his own. 

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AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THANK YOUUUUU IM SO EXCITEDDDDDDDD

Also another thing; all of your yandere stories are SO SO GOOD RAAGH

There's such a lack of female rep in yandere stories and you make some of the BEST I've ever written

I am giving you one billion dollars and your own theme park

You're making me cry over here lol.

tysm for being so kind. I live for this kind of validation :3

And yeah honestly this whole account started cause I got so sick of search replacing male pronouns in other peoples fics on google docs just to enjoy them T0T.

PS: make the theme park SPM2 driller killer themed please :3

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Please,,, give us more of the mentally unstable milf from northern star,,,,,,

It's so so SO good I cannot handle the possibility of it being merely a oneshot

PLEEAAAASSEEE my life is YOOUUURRRSSS

It makes me so deliriously happy to hear you enjoyed the story. I’m very glad to say Northern Star’s sequel has been brewing in my mind for a while, and this was the push I needed to get on it :3

Lysergide daydream chapter 4 should be coming out in a few days and after it’s finished I’m gonna get straight to work on it.

PS: tysm for the ask, you have no idea how much this has brightened my day :33333

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Intro under the cut:

MDNI!!!!!!

Story Masterlist

Requests: Open

Commissions: Closed

Call me Ellie, I am transfem, my pronouns are She/Her, and I am happily taken.

This Blog Is For:

HDG and Yan Fics with a variety other similar works possible in the future. I'm dyslexic, so expect poor grammar and many many hiatus's.

I'm Interested In:

Survival horror ah la Resident evil, Silent Hill, and Signalis. Horror movies, especially Barbarian and Slumber Party Massacre II. Fucked up little men. Even more fucked up big women.

My DMs and Asks:

Are wide open. I'm always happy to hear feedback and commentary.(=^・^=)(they're also were you can send requests and commissions)