#[ faceless monster boy ]

[virigeneracy]

more indulgent stuff, this was a test of the model's shapekey thingies i think

[ratcate]

Oh, to be worm and be eating copious amounts of food

[mr-carnival]

Curtains Falling

[caramel-catss]

rewatching episode five of hero's purpose... noticed this about how link looks at ganondorf as he appears before him

vs how ganondorf sees link when he realizes who he is

[taniqetil]

Couple of funky fellas I drew back in march 2023 left one is sold, right one was raffled off on my th

[recallback]

When I first made Nihil, I made this big fancy ol' portrait piece of him that I've been proud of since forever. Now that I've kinda hashed out a design for Nemo - the independant entity that is Nihil's curse- I got bad brainworms to make a new version of the piece....

So, here that is! New symbolism, and a new face. Part of a pair, do not separate.

[hughiecampbelle]

Malignant (Homelander Oneshot)

((TAKES PLACE IN S4E4))

Character/s: Homelander

Word Count: 1,468

Warning/s: gore, sort of all the basic warnings The Boys typically has

Requested: Hii! I’ve just found your blog, read some of your works and loveee them! Especially The Boys Preferences and imagines! May I request a platonic Homelander x reader with the prompts: Fury, Shooting Stars, “Get away from me” ? Thank youuu! - anon

A/N: Y'all when I tell you you're not ready!!! When I say I love this I mean I cannot stop smiling!!! I am Victor Frankenstein and this is my monster lol. Thank you for requesting my love! I hope you like it!!! Feedback is always appreciated!!! 💜💜💜

Requests are open! 🔮

Get away from me. The words come out as a whimper, barely above a whisper. His features contort: insecurity, rage, struck dumb by your reaction. Despite himself, he smiles, trying make sense of it all. This is what we’ve always wanted. They deserved it, all of them. Why can’t- why can’t you see that? He takes a step closer and you react by moving further back, through the doorway. Your shoe makes a squeaking sound. Beneath the sole something squelches, wet and gummy. You don’t have to look down to know what you’ve stepped in. It’s splattered across the walls and ceiling. The entire room painted red. Faceless, headless, limbless bodies dropped across the floor. You’ve stepped on someones intestines, their insides strewn across the floor like shooting stars. Here and there are articles of clothing, a shoe without their twin, a name tag or Vought issued ID. You don’t recognize them. Many of them new hires. They weren’t around all those years ago. They took no part in what happened to you, to either of you. Bile rises in your throat. It’s the smell that’s the worst. Metallic. You can taste the iron on your tongue. Not just that, though. The heater was still on. Though the body was ash, the stench of burned skin and hair lingers. It’s thick, and hot, and disgusting. The warmth radiates off it, seeping into the rest of the lab. It leaves you fighting your nausea, your hatred, the two churning in your stomach. Why, why are you mad at me? He’s drenched in their blood. It’s dried across his face, his suit and in his hair. How long has he been with the bodies? You killed them, John. You killed them all. 

Despite what the media portrayed, your childhood wasn’t baseball games and apple pies. There was no mother to rock you to sleep or father telling you you were a great kid. There were no little sisters to play with or teasing from big brothers. No white pickett fence or a sweet, yet obedient, dog running around. There was sterility. There were test tubes, and locked rooms, and tests. There were knives, and guns, and fire. You and him, you were invincible. They wanted to test that. They wanted to see just how far you could be pushed before you broke. Your skin was impenetrable, but that didn’t mean it didn’t burn every time they shoved you into that chamber. You’d pound your fists against the door, begging and screaming, every inch of you engulfed in flames. Sometimes it still felt like you were burning. In dreams, maybe when the weather was warm. You were just a little kid. You thought (feared) this time would be the last time. This is how you would die. Your tears evaporated before they could fall. You’d call out for them, for the pseudo father figures. When that wasn’t enough, when they refused to move from their charts and lazy game of paper ball, you’d cry for John. Your companion, your brother, your friend. He’d be enclosed in his own hell. Eventually you learned to be quiet. Eventually you learned you would survive. No one was coming to save you. No one was going to stop this. You’d watch, day in and day out, first your skin, your muscles, until the fire kissed your bones. You’d come to hours, days later, completely healed. Not a single scar carved into your flesh. No evidence except your memories. 

If you were good, if you were well behaved, you might be rewarded. Taught a new game or trick. Tic-tac-toe had been an exciting discovery at the time. You’d liked playing O’s. John liked X’s. Hangman was another. Always with a dull pencil, just in case. You’d be sniffling, hiccupping, leftover from the sobbing, when they’d sit you on the lab table and ask you to guess a letter. They weren’t the kinds of words children should have heard, but how could you have known? Psychopath. Indestructible. Malignant. You didn’t know the meanings or, for a long time, how to spell them, but you heard them a lot. They were household names. If they were feeling generous, kind, they might give you more chances: add a face, a hat, a bowtie. Through tears you’d laugh at the ridiculousness, pointing out that the hanged man could not possibly be as accessorized as they were making him to be. You never liked when the game was over. Win or lose, it always meant the same thing. One man, much older than everyone else, would lift you up and carry you back to your cell as if you were his own. You’d cling to him, his shirt, clutching tight with your chubby, dimpled hands, watching over his shoulder as someone else would discard the pieces of paper, throwing them away. You wanted to keep them, have them to laugh at the silly stick figure when it was dark and you were all alone, but you wouldn’t dare ask. If not the man, then a young woman who’d lead you back, hand in hand, full of promises you both knew she would not keep. Talk of real games, with boards and pieces and cards. But when the time came again, when you did as you were told, all you were allotted was a piece of paper and pencil. 

Her body was the first you recognized. Faceless yes, but you knew her as well as you knew yourself. Barbara. She was like a mother to you. Albeit, a terrible one. A cold, uncaring, aseptic woman who studied you, who created you, made you the person you are today. Wasn’t that all mothers? She’d hush your cries, ask why you were so upset. You didn’t have the words, the vocabulary, and so she’d grow tired. Bored. When you could articulate yourself better, then you would be worthy of her time. Truthfully, you weren’t all that sad she was dead. She must’ve known what was going on. She must’ve seen or heard something. At night, when they came into your room. When they made you promise to keep it secret. Couldn’t she tell? Couldn’t any of them? Armies of psychologists couldn’t get the truth out of you, not that they were trying to. Their alliances rest elsewhere. Fear of abandonment had been ingrained into you. You’d cry even harder, begging her not to leave, not to go. She’d pretend she had no other choice, that it was your fault. You were a crybaby. A sissy. An imbecile. If you could not pull yourself together and act like an adult, she would have no choice but to get up. Beneath the hurt was a fury, a burning, but they had you trained well. Instead you screamed, begged, throwing yourself to the floor, into walls, harming yourself for an ounce of her attention. Affection. Circles of red stained the walls where your head had been bashed. Your clothes ripped and torn. Your tantrums were spectacular. Fantastical. Eventually you’d grow tired, exhausted. Bloody, you’d sit very still and breathe and wait for her to come back. Then, and only then, would she grace you with her presence.

You hoped the bitch suffered. 

Marty rests limp, his face crushed in, a hole lasered through his groin. You knew the story, the nickname. He tried to get you to call John that peculiar name, too. Try to get you in on the joke. You never did. He had names for you, too. Just as vulgar and perverted. No one ever stopped him. No one ever said it was inappropriate. You guessed when you were being gutted, sliced from collarbones to pelvis, turned into a living autopsy, harassment wasn’t such a big deal. You stepped over his body without a second though. Footsteps to follow from his skull (what was left of it) to where John stood. This is very bad. You find your voice again, inspecting the lab around you. The cake sits melted in it’s pink box. The lights flicker. There is an unsettling silence. But I, I did it for you. His eyes are wide, his pupils dilated. His grin is hysterical. John, you start, but the rest of your sentence clatters to the floor. He watches you, desperate for your approval, your appreciation. They did terrible things to you. They let terrible things happen to you, unspeakable things. Why should you be upset? Why should you mourn them? Why should their gruesome deaths fill you with anything but satisfaction? They deserved it. They were asking for it. You slide away the mans large intestine, wiping the blood from your shoe.  Thank you, you say finally, placing your hands on his shoulders, squeezing them. He breathes out a sigh of relief. Thank you, it means a lot.

[wordstome]

the execution of lady jane grey

I got drunk and Tiktok showed me history_alice's video about this painting by Paul Delaroche. And since God has cursed me for my hubris and my work is never finished, have some medieval executioner König x fem mc. Also, Lady Jane Grey was executed by Mary Tudor (Bloody Mary), not by Henry the VIIIth (the one with the six wives), but I blended the stories just because I can.

1.3k words

König doesn't ask questions.

It's never been his job to ask questions. The king points, and he does the dirty work. Most of the time, he takes pleasure in it: thieves, rapists, murderers, they all answer to his justice. And sure, a true loyal citizen might argue that he's simply enacting the king's justice, but it's König who swings the axe, is it not? In the end, König decides their fate.

In theory, anyway. In practice, this is simply his job. He keeps his head down and does what he's told. He stays quiet about the king's secret executions, the ones that happen in the dungeons instead of out in the open courtyard where the smallfolk gather to watch. It's hypocritical, honestly. They all look at König like he's a monster, some spectre of death among men, but when there's a public execution to be held, are they not the ones clamoring and pushing to be at the front?

There are some times when the king's executions are more...dubious. An advisor who voiced dissent one too many times. A thief stealing barley from the royal stables to feed his family, made an example of. A young man, just a boy really, accused of murdering four grown men—convenient, considering all four men's wives had been found in the king's bed at some point or another.

Those are the executions König prefers not to think about. The ones that haunt him in his dreams anyway. Those are the ones that make him yearn for his days in the army: when the people he killed were as faceless as his hood was to them, when he didn't know them and didn't have to think about the loved ones they left behind. König's never claimed to be a good person, the opposite in fact. But sometimes when he brings the blade down, he imagines a different, more royal neck on the block instead.

He feels this way now, as he watches her make her way to the block.

She's ethereal in her petticoat, the soft silken material reflecting what little light there is in the cold stone room and bathing her in a warm glow. Gentle and obedient into her own grave.

The king's wife. Sent to the block for treason, of all things. But everyone knows the truth: he's only killing this poor woman because he plots to put his latest mistress on the throne. Just a few weeks ago, this sweet young thing was the king's main obsession. She stood no chance at all, the daughter of a local lord currying favor with royalty. And now, she's being put to death through no fault of her own. The injustice grinds König's teeth, and takes his mind to a dark, dangerous place.

If she was his, he would never so much as let another woman cross his mind again. He's seen her about the palace grounds, with her beautiful bright eyes and lively smile, skirts trailing behind her like the tail feathers of an exotic bird. Just watching her had made him feel young again, no longer the brutish old soldier everyone averted their eyes from.

He's only spoken to her once, but he'll never forget it. He had been in her way, but she was the one who apologized. Most people would have seen the hood and backed away in fear, but not her. He watched, frozen and unable to say a single word, as she curtseyed and looked at him with, of all things, a shy curiosity. For one still, breathtaking moment, he held her gaze in his, and he felt like they were the last two people remaining on earth.

Then her lady in waiting had touched her on the elbow, and the spell was broken as they continued on their way. But König had never forgotten.

That same lady in waiting is here now, eyes puffy as she holds the queen's elaborate dress and jewelry in her lap. She had chosen to take it off, so as not to stain the expensive fabrics with her blood. How can she be so considerate of others, when the whole world has failed her so?

She turns to him, trembling like a little bird, and meets his gaze. The words come out before he can help himself.

"I beg your forgiveness," he blurts out, and almost immediately mentally scolds himself. What right does he have, of all people, to ask for her grace?

"Of course, sir," she says, her voice clear and sweet. Surely, he can't feel any more wretched than he does right now...and then she speaks again.

"I only pray you dispatch me quickly..." She turns a fearful eye to the wooden block, sitting almost innocently on top of the straw laid down to soak up her lifeblood. "Will...will you take it before I lay me down?"

"No, madam," he whispers.

She nods, and with a sudden streak of iron will, ties the blindfold about her head. König knows this is a kindness: she'll never see him coming. And yet his heart aches to see her cover up those beautiful eyes.

A loud sob comes out of the lady in waiting, watching her young mistress fumble around blindly. König's heart shatters when she lets out a little cry of confusion as the lieutenant of the prison rushes to hold her steady. "What shall I do? Where is it?"

König feels a sudden streak of anger, at the gentle way the lieutenant lowers her to the ground. The man clearly knows this is wrong, and yet will not lift a finger to help her.

Guilt strikes him yet again as he remembers that neither is he.

Or is he?

He stares down at her, this vulnerable little lamb sent to the slaughter, her pretty neck exposed for his blade, and he knows what he has to do.

The lady in waiting cries out in anguish as the blade lowers to the queen's head, causing her to gasp as the cold metal brushes against her skin. But instead of cutting her head off, König slices through her blindfold with a deft precision.

"What is the meaning of this?" The lieutenant demands as the queen scrambles from her kneeling position. König offers his arm, and she takes it, her hands warm against his sleeve as she stands up. The confusion is writ plain on her face, but her eyes shine with an innocent hope that only steels König's resolve.

"You," König says, pointing his axe at the lieutenant, who shuffles backwards nervously. "You will tell the king that she has been executed. If he asks for a body, find one: I don't care which one. And if you tell anyone what happened here today, I swear to you that I will water the earth with your blood, and the blood of every family member in your line." His eyes narrow at the lieutenant. "Do I make myself clear?" The man nods, stuck still with terror.

The queen's lady in waiting rushes forward, pressing jewels into her hands. "My lady, you will need these," she says urgently. "For wherever life takes you next." She gives König a determined look. "Take care of her, sir."

The queen's eyes go wide and round as she looks up at König. "I don't understand."

He kneels to her height, taking her hands in his. "I am taking you away from this place," he tells her, his voice low and urgent. "But you need to trust me."

She closes her eyes, and takes one deep, trembling breath before opening them again. "I trust you."

"Good." She yelps as he picks her up in his arms, hands instantly darting about his shoulders. "I am sorry, my lady, but we don't have much time."

She giggles, giggles, in his arms. "I don't mind," she says, with a mischievous little look that invites trouble. God, he is utterly fucked, isn't he?

"I can give you time, but not much," the lieutenant says. "Go!"

König doesn't need to be told twice.

To be honest with you, I have no idea what this is. I wrote this in, like. An hour. I think a demon possessed me. I don't think I'm going to write more of this au, but who knows!

@danibee33 @kneelingshadowsalome @crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr @keiva1000 @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @mantishymns @lexuria

[revehae]

party monster

pairing ↠ best friend!jennie x (f) reader (but not really)

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, thoughts of noncon, sub!jennie, oral, noncon recording, monsterfucking

summary ↠ for years you’ve crushed on jennie kim, your best friend, the queen of queens, the party monster. but it seems that you’re not exactly her type.

wc ↠ 3.3k

a/n ↠ this is my first time writing this kind of fic in 6 months so i am unfortunately quite rusty…

don’t like it, don’t read.

she looked like royalty on top of him. 

you couldn’t deny it - you could never deny jennie anything. how could you? she was funny, enchanting, downright beautiful, and she was your friend of many years.

your best friend, to be exact. it was a title you were proud to claim, one you had never taken for granted. you had always been there, whether she needed to laugh or she needed to cry, and you would always be there for whatever she needed. 

but apparently, she didn’t need you for this.

it was not your intention to find her this way, to be fair. in your search for an empty bathroom, chance had led you to the one connected to the bedroom your best friend and her boy toy occupied. you had only come here in need of relief, but in her own way, jennie yearned for something similar.

yet so different all at once. you knew her voice when it came to your ears, even if it was at a pitch and with a breathlessness you had never quite heard, and your curiosity had gotten the better of you. they must have been too lost in the haze of their arousal, because they never seemed to notice they’d left the bathroom door open for all the world to see.

and you did see. you saw her on top of this nameless boy, her cashmere dress in a heap on the floor, sweat gathering at her soft skin and glimmering in the moonlight like precious pearls. you saw how pleasure took her by its gnarled hand, her lips crying the cries of angels. you saw how his greedy hands were all over her, touching her, surely not knowing just how lucky he was. 

you could only stand there, trembling with the intensity of an emotion you had never known this deeply. there was a hot throb in your chest as cruelly it tightened, and in the same moment you could hear this nameless boy swearing about how tightly she was wound around him.

in that moment, she had taken a form you had never seen of her before, becoming a thing so violently unknown to you, and all you could think about was how none of it was for you. it was certainly not the first time she’d whored herself out to someone that wasn’t you, but seeing it happen in front of you was different than being regaled on the tales. 

those boys were faceless, something you could convince yourself never existed as you pictured only jennie’s cries of ecstasy. even now, this nameless boy wasn’t so nameless anymore as you heard it fall brokenly from her lips.

but it’s okay, you consoled yourself, turning away from the door. you could fix her.

that had been three months ago at least. you were still doing everything in your power to come up with something to salvage your broken heart with, in spite of already knowing jennie got around, but you had come short of viable options.

and like that fateful night all those months before, you were at another party, because nights in new york were when party monsters like jennie came to life. and as to expected of her, she’d strutted inside sporting this lacy dress, the same vibrant red color as her lips. 

she was stunning in red. 

it was something you had told her more than once. you took your role as jennie’s best friend as though you were the queen’s aide, and in a way, that wasn’t so far from the truth. she was the queen of queens, the party monster, and a woman of her caliber had to look nothing less than like art at every party she set foot on.

that red cashmere dress lived in your head. you had been the one help her decide, and yet some boy had been the one to take it off.

“hey, where’s jen?” rosé asked, poking her head around the corner. 

“no idea,” lisa said, finishing what was left of her exquisite wine.

the two girls glanced toward you. of course they did; you were jennie’s best friend. apparently, you were supposed to know what she was up to at all times.

you sighed, peeling yourself off the sofa and sitting your drink on the table. “i’ll look,” you started. “but if she’s somewhere getting dicked down again, you’re going to make an enemy out of me.”

rosé blew you a kiss. “thanks, beautiful.”

“yeah, yeah,” you grumbled, giving your drink one last longful glance as you stepped out of the room.

you took a guess that rosé had come from the main hall and if she hadn’t scouted jennie there, then there was a fair chance she was in one of the upstairs rooms. getting dicked down, you thought disheartenedly, but you searched nonetheless.

you had only seen her that way once and it was something you surely never wanted to see ever again. the memory of the thunder in your chest still lingered and maybe the feeling itself hadn’t exactly faded.

what would it take for her to understand that she was yours? she may not have realized it yet, but you were everything she needed. you could please her in ways she’d never imagined, take her to heights that’d never before been. 

you stilled when you heard her voice, almost walking straight past the door. it was of some kind of relief that there were no moans, and she seemed to be quietly chatting about something. with the door barely open, you slipped inside, hoping that it wouldn’t creak.

it took all of two seconds to recognize her, standing at the edge of the bed, but there were no words to describe the horror on your face when you saw the thing next to her.

deep black in color, draped in some slick, indigo substance that coated it smoothly, and towering two feet over her. teeth that could kill with one slight graze. it didn’t look of this world. and yet, jennie didn’t seem afraid; she looked exasperated.

“i thought i told you to stay home,” she hissed, glaring up at the creature. whatever the hell it was.

the alien-like creature seemed indifferent, from what you could make of its features. “hungry,” was all it said.

jennie didn’t seem impressed. “you were fed before i left.”

“hungry,” it repeated, raspier, brushing a long finger down her dress.

jennie slapped its hand away, shaking her head. “no, not here. there’s people, carnal.”

carnal said nothing, overcome by a need that went beyond the bounds of human desire, and returned its finger to her dress. for a second, you thought that it would tear it to shreds, but instead it unzipped the back quicker than she could dispute.

you could hear her whining, but carnal was intent on taking and little would come between that purpose. jennie gasped when it took her by the arm and tugged her onto the floor, silently demanding in its approach, all the while her pretty red dress was tossed into oblivion. 

for whatever reason, the sight hadn’t troubled you like it did not too many moons ago. it intrigued you. part of you wanted to emerge from the cloak of the shadows to rescue her from this creature, but the other wanted to watch and see how this would unfold.

jennie’s eyes burned fiercely of ire. “i won’t do it.”

carnal glanced down at her and you swore the sight gave you shivers, but jennie didn’t move. “no?”

“no.”

you had to restrain yourself from gasping when carnal grabbed jennie by strands of hair at the back of her head. it forced her mouth onto its cock, a death grip on her tresses. her whimpers of protest were muffled, meaningless little sounds that no one would bother to hear.

it would be a lie to do otherwise, and thus you had to confess to yourself that you were bemused by the sheer size of its girthy cock. jennie could hardly fit anything an inch longer than the tip into her mouth. it stroked her limits, sped right by them.

but the part that bemused you even further was how after a minute or three, jennie didn’t seem to hate it. there was no way in hell your eyes were making up the way she sucked in every bit she could take, eagerly bobbing her head.

the muffled cries waned into muffled moans, and for no good reason. no efforts were being taken to please her in return. she was this meek little thing on her knees before an otherworldly creature with a name far too apt.

carnal did not react too strongly, but you had to assume that jennie’s potent greed did a number on it. she wasn’t going anywhere, yet the death grip on her hair only got tighter. what she couldn’t fit between her stained lips, she took in her hands and kneaded between her supple fingers.

your mind was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, stretched across a plane of thought. you were strangely immersed in the horrors in front of you, but your questions wandered. every moment that passed, you wondered if maybe you’d had a little too much to drink.

this was a dirty little secret that even you never knew your best friend had. you couldn’t even begin to fathom how this strange creature could be more than a figment of imagination, and you decided that it wasn’t. it would spare you the headache.

you could see the indent on jennie’s hollowed cheeks, hear the wet noises coming from her lips. perhaps it was stranger that you didn’t hate it. only moments ago you had been prepared to curse whatever idiot of a boy you found her with, and now you were quieter than a mouse.

jennie looked like a pebble at its feet. the beast was more massive than you cared to admit aloud, with a strength that spoke for itself, and a cock that promised total destruction and not anything less. it must’ve been part of the allure for her, because you had never seen her so eager.

and why would she be? the queen of new york city herself never had to ask for anything twice, if at all. it would be an honor for anyone to behold her bare form, but none of that power manifested here in this bedroom. she was sucking carnal off like a common whore begging for a dollar.

your memories reeled back to some instances, not many but a few, where you had noticed her visibly adjusting herself after what you could only assume had been a brief sexcapade in a closet somewhere. and for a moment you stopped to wonder if those faceless people you imagined her with had not been boys, but this damned beast.

it almost made you angrier, trying to fathom how this thing had better chances than you did at pursuing her, and all it took was a little force. had you known that, you would’ve staked your claim to her already.

greed was heavy in the air and you saw carnal seize control after allowing jennie to do as she pleased with it, fucking her mouth harder than she could manage. you couldn’t help but be aroused at the sound of her harshly choking. but she didn’t give up, taking every thrust.

quiet sounds escaped carnal’s mouth, raspy to the ears. it did not have much to say, you’d noticed, and it didn’t need to say much either. you could tell that they’d done this countless times before, because they slipped into this as though it was routine.

maybe you were making it up in your mind, but you could’ve sworn that the room had soared a thousand degrees hotter. part of it was ire on your end, but you couldn’t deny the ache in your core. to see her this way, meek and pliant, brought out an insatiable hunger within you.

by the second carnal’s thrusts were becoming more erratic, its self control seemingly unraveling hard. you were impressed that jennie hadn’t begun to choke again, in spite of the relentless pace. you were certain her jaw strained from the effort, but she still made herself a perfect little toy.

you recognized the brink of ecstasy when you saw it and carnal was at the very cusp. its groans even became a little louder, coming from the back of its throat. the only other thing you could hear was labored breathing and the wet smack of jennie’s lips.

you wouldn’t have wanted to cum that way, you would have wanted to be buried every inch deep between her legs, but after a short moment, the thrusts came to a still and carnal growled. given your angle and the darkness, it was hard to see, but you partly saw the leftover cum she couldn’t swallow drip from her chin.

jennie pushed her mouth off, wiping her lips. her naked chest was heaving for breath. when she stood, you could see the shimmer of tears in her misty eyes. she looked like a train wreck. 

not a moment later, carnal tore her towards the bed and she gave a high squeak of surprise. your gaze was fixed to her every movement. on the bed, carnal hoisted her into the air as though she was featherlight and sat her over it. jennie reached for its shoulders.

but carnal, on the other hand, had reached for something else. to your surprise, it began to lubricate her comparatively smaller cunt with its own indigo slick. jennie whimpered, arching into its long, thick fingers as they ran across her folds. there was no doubt that she had become aroused simply by pleasuring this creature, and you could only imagine the ache in her core. 

it must’ve been similar to yours. this incessant throbbing that yearned to be soothed; a hunger to touch or be touched.

“carnal,” jennie whined. “please, please…”

carnal didn’t seem to be listening to her borderline anguished cries of desperation, its fingers stretching her cunt open, almost like it was preparing her to take something much larger. but nothing was enough for an insatiable little minx like jennie. 

“i don’t care if it hurts,” jennie added, to your shock. “i just want you to fuck me. please, carnal?”

carnal slipped its fingers out of her lubricated pussy and jennie made a noise of discontent at the emptiness, in spite of it being what she had asked for. it was too dark to be certain, but you swore that for half a second, there was a dark gleam of hunger in its heavy eyes.

the alien-like beast hoisted jennie up in a single arm and steered its cock to her entrance in the other. it was still stiff in its palms, and you got the feeling that it would take far more than one orgasm to sate a beast of its nature.

it didn’t seem to be concerned with taking its time or allowing her room to adjust to the stretch, but the look on jennie’s face told you that it was what she wanted. there was pain on her lips and pleasure in her eyes, the two being bred into something lethal.

“oh my god,” jennie moaned, tightening her grip on carnal’s shoulders. 

carnal grasped her hips, using her as though she was merely some kind of toy rather than a human capable of being wounded. it lifted her up and down its thick shaft, leaving her to do nothing but squeeze her eyes shut and hold on for dear life.

you swallowed hard. when she was being used by a beast two times her size and infinitely stronger than herself, your best friend looked less and less human. she didn’t look like something worthy of respect or dignity. had you not known any better, you would’ve thought she was just some whore.

this was something that you had never seen, something different than before; when you saw her then, she was taking her power, but seeing her now, all of it had been reaped from her body.

deep, guttural grunts escaped the back of carnal’s throat as it rutted into her savagely, at a rhythm that rendered her thoughtless. jennie’s tears stung her eyes yet she kept babbling incoherently, addicted to the agony. there were red lines on her skin from where its nails had dug into her, but from how tight she clung to it, carnal was bound to have plenty of its own.

maybe in some sick, twisted way, the pain and the fear heightened the sensations of ecstasy that it tugged her nearer to every second of every minute. there was no pleasure without pain, and the promise of both had tempted jennie far beyond the point of no return. she was a fiend, you realized, for things that were bad for her.

somewhere in the midst of your astonishment of watching your best friend getting railed by nothing less than an unworldly beast, you remembered your anger, your frustrations. a thought a struck you then, selfish in nature, but bound to work in your favor. 

you pulled your phone from your rear pocket and opened the camera, getting it to focus on the two unlikely partners that were showing one another other worlds. if jennie knew you had proof of this tryst, she wouldn’t turn you down for anything. you weren’t sure why you hadn’t thought of the idea sooner.

jennie threw her head back, calling out for carnal. “harder,” she whispered.

carnal silently obliged, but it appeared more like it had lost whatever remained of its self-restraint. jennie’s sounds became louder then, higher in pitch, and you couldn’t miss the way her brows furrowed together. 

your camera didn’t, either.

the sound of sex filled the room at an unfathomable intensity. there was a very obvious wet, slick squelch of their skin meeting that anyone could have heard if they walked just shy of the door. jennie’s cunt had already been drenched with arousal on its own, but the addition of carnal’s slick didn’t help.

you almost couldn’t stand it and that feeling was inexplicably amplified knowing that whatever this thing was she surrendered herself to wasn’t even human. but you were embraced by the comfort that you would be its place soon, whether she wanted it or not.

you were imagining it. if you closed your eyes and listened only to the sound of jennie’a pretty little voice, you could picture that it was you she was making all those pitiful sounds for.

“fuck, i’m so…,” jennie trailed, unable to even get the words off the tip of her tongue. 

but she didn’t need to say it. carnal saw it. you saw it. hell, anybody half as curious as you were could have been right here, about to witness it. she was on the brink of climax, the cusp of ecstasy, and it was unkind.

and as much as it angered you, you couldn’t bear to tear your eyes away for a minute. you had to know what it was like, to see her truly unravel, to lose herself in the highs of pleasure and the throes of sex.

jennie brought a hand to her naked chest, pinching her own nipple. you could see moonlight shimmering on the beads of moisture that clung to her, dancing on the misty haze of lust in her eyes. 

it was at that moment you saw the party monster for what she really was. the intensity at last was too much for her to handle and jennie shuddered with climax, her eyes rolling to the back of her head and her toes curling. she cried out the prettiest whimper, singing a name that wasn’t yours.

and somehow none of that mattered, because the beast she let ravage her wasn’t finished. it tossed her onto the bed and continued, fucking her like an animal, like a monster.

you had seen enough. you had what you needed. with the promise of satisfaction vying against the contempt simmering deep within you, you slipped out where you had came.

too soon to see her eyes fade pitch black.

[taylor-titmouse]

I'm Taylor Titmouse, I write and illustrate queer erotica featuring freaks and monsters. I also draw a lot of porn that I can't post here, so those will be posted as crops with links to my various uncensored locations.

You can find my illustrated novellas and artbooks on Itchio. I've published a Lot of them. If you don't know where to start, I recommend the Dragon Double Feature series or Roger Crenshaw, or Spring with the Unicorns--that one's free!

Some of my latest releases, try The Long Road if you like gender-based worldbuilding!

You can find the most complete collection of my uncensored art on Patreon and Subscribestar (both are equally served.) I post high resolution art regularly, and everything is neatly organized going back to 2022 (that's longer than I've been posting here!) $5 patrons get access to over 180 exclusive illustrations, and can vote in monthly polls from suggestions made by the $10 tier--who can also commission me at any time with a 10% discount!

Just .05% of the exclusives you unlock by subscribing!

You can also follow me on Twitter, Cohost, or Bluesky, where I post my art uncensored. Below the cut is a list of story tags, which will link you to art and posts about those stories, and provides some context to what they're about. Thanks for checking out my work!

TT Art: my art tag TT Talks Drawing: my tag for talking about the art-making process TT Talks Writing: my tag for talking about the writing process TT Testimonials: my tag for asks reviewing how good my books are :^)

Story Tags Barnyard Bound: F/M, human/furry, bondage, breeding kink Brilliant Ryder: M/F, aliens and medical play (The Xenosexuality Conference) Chique: NB/Various, fantasy monsters, elves, nudism, catch/fuck (The Sunken City, The Wild Woods) The Dragon Double Feature: M/F, M/M, M/M/F, dragon/human, oni/human, plus size. Fantasy princess/dragon CNC, Edo era Japan (The Dragon Double Feature, The Dragon Double Feature 2) Eternella 7: M/M/M, Gundam-inspired space opera erotica. (Eternella 7 Parts 1-3) House Gerhardt: F/F/M, vampires, trans women, femdom, male humiliation, 1800s. House of the Risen King: M/F, old god, exhibitionism/nudism, sex cult. (House of the Risen King) Knight of Thorns: M/F, giant faceless knight/petite princess forced marriage Laurestine: Trans unicorns, monsters, bondage/stuck in situations, catch/fuck (Spring with the Unicorns) The Leylic Sea: M/M, historical fantasy, pirates, university wizards (The Captain of the Tybaltine, The Boy from Karkutt) The Long Road: Goblins, bandits, a princess and a knight. Gangbangs, rope bondage, CNC (The Long Road) Lover Rescue: F/F/Genderfluid, magical girls, monsters, plus size, cam girling The Masson Circle: M/M, M/F, 1970s crime romance, multiple ships, femdom, trans male character (The Masson Circle) Max and Mortis: M/F, exhibitionism, naturalism, photography, nudism Monsterfuck Mountain: Fantasy monsters, WIP erotic CYOA (You're A Mage on Monsterfuck Mountain) The Night Guest: M/F, young man/older woman, oni/human (The Night Guest) Objects of Affection: M/F, F/F, robot girls and people being weird about them The Sleeping Garden: M/Agender, alien, science Starbuster: M/M, a WIP novel-length superhero romance Roger Crenshaw: Trans M/M, monsters, occultism, early 1900s (The Vampires of New Haven, The Wolves of the West, The Shadow in the Shelves, The Dogs at Duskfall) Romick: M/F/Various, evil wizard/obedient doll, magical sex, experimentation kink, dungeon bondage (The Tenebrous Tower)

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 74

Part 1 Part 73

It’s cold. Eddie’s breath is gusting out in front of him, visible in the air. Somehow, remarkably, Will and Steve are both asleep, cuddled up together in Eddie’s bed. Eddie’s not sure he’ll ever sleep again.

Will’s in one of Steve’s crew-neck sweaters, the yellow one that Eddie steals to sleep in sometimes. His head’s pillowed on Steve’s cold shoulder, cushioned by Steve’s teddy bear to keep a barrier between their drastically different skin temperatures.

Will has three blankets stacked atop him, making him look childlike and smaller than he usually is.

Fuck, they’re all just kids.

In contrast, Steve’s got a t-shirt on, some boxers, no blankets. He’s breathing deeply, air puffing invisibly into the room. Like his lungs are already too cold for the air to tell the difference.

Eddie wants to cry. They’re fucking kids, curled up and small in Eddie’s bed. He wants to barricade the door and never let anyone else see them ever again. But Mama Byers is probably freaking out right about now, and Eddie has the horrible feeling that the monster’s already in here with them.

He leaves the bedroom, closing the door gently with a near-silent click as he pads, sock-footed out of the room.

Eddie’s stuck at the threshold, staring into the darkening interior of the trailer. He feels like he’s been stuck at the threshold for weeks, and everything keeps trying to push him through.

The monster, the lab, Chief fucking Hopper. They’re all pushing at his back, trying to shove him somewhere he’s not sure he wants to be. And now’s he through, and he doesn’t know what to do. They’re kids. They’re all just fucking kids. Even him. Even Steve. And god, Will’s still so small.

He’s past the theshould, straight through, and there’s no more time to stall. So, Eddie does what he always does when he wants to run – he picks up the phone.

It’s not Uncle Wayne that answers, just a faceless, nameless peon down at the plant. But they patch him through. Eddie’s bottom lip tremors, so he bites down on it, caging all his mixed up emotions in his throat until Uncle Wayne can pick up his call and tell him what to do.

“Ed?” he asks, sharp and demanding the way he always gets when he’s worried and trying not to show it. “What’s wrong?”

“It–” Eddie’s throat chooses that moment to clog up. He chokes on his words, trying to claw them out. “It’s Steve he–”

He hiccups pathetically. “Breathe, boy.”

Eddie doesn’t, but he starts talking, words slurring over each other as they fight their way out past his clogged throat and lame tongue. “There was all this smoke, Uncle Wayne, and it’s in him.” He says it all in one breath, barely intelligible as they make a mad dash to escape his vocal chords before he loses the ability to speak altogether.

“Breath.”

Eddie does, just once, sharp and quick, before continuing, “You don’t get it. He was suffocating! Dying! But then he wasn’t, but this is wrong.” he says, hissing into the receiver and staring at the closed bedroom door, waiting for it to open. “There’s something wrong with him.”

The last whisper rings over the static of the line. Eddie can hear Uncle Wayne breathing, slow and steady enough that he can regulate his own lungs to it without the command. As if he knows this, because he always knows, he lets the silence settle in. Eddie’s breaths deepen, finally making his lungs fully expand, before Uncle Wayne speaks.

“I’m coming home.”

Uncle Wayne hasn’t come home early since that time in grade school when he’d called him at work, delirious as his brain cooked itself.

Uncle Wayne had come home with cold medicine and canned chicken noodle soup clacking together in a shitty plastic bag from the gas station. Eddie had been curled up on the couch, nearly delirious as his Uncle spooned medicine down his throat before going to heat up the soup on the stove.

He’d only been living with Uncle Wayne for a few months at that point, walking on eggshells as he waited to be kicked to the curb. It was Wayne’s quiet care even in the face of Eddie’s inconvenience that had convinced him that maybe this situation was for keeps.

He hadn’t realized until the next week that the missed work and cost of supplies would mean two double shifts to keep the electricity on. Wayne never mentioned it, but Eddie noticed things, and the break in routine stuck out. He decided to never call Wayne home early from work again. And, he’d stuck to his guns, muddling through any situation until his Uncle got home.

Now, those same cost analyses are running through his head. A day at home today, means overtime tomorrow, means they get to keep the electricity on. “But–”

“No buts, Ed,” Wayne cuts in gruffly. “I’ll see you in ten.”

The dial tone is the most comforting sound Eddie’s ever heard. He stands there, cradling the dead line until it starts beeping, then goes silent. He’s stuck again, at another threshold.

He doesn’t move when he hears tires on gravel coming up the drive, doesn’t move when the front door opens, when his Uncle’s work-rough hands brush over his shoulders and squeeze, when he walks further into the trailer, away from Eddie.

But then he hears the bedroom door click open. He drops the phone, just lets it dangle unhooked on the line, and follows his Uncle into the unknown.

Will’s still curled into a small ball, but now he’s blinking up at where Wayne is hovering above the bed, the back of his hand pressed to Steve’s head with a frown of concentration.

He reaches out to shake Steve’s shoulder. “Don’t–” Eddie starts, but it’s too late: Steve’s awake.

He blinks up at Wayne, gaze vacant and uncomprehending before it clears. “What?” he asks, voice full of sleep’s gravel as he rubs his eyes.

“We gotta go, Harrington.”

Steve blinks uncomprehendingly up at Wayne. He doesn’t react. Not to the last name that Wayne had never called him. Not to the way Wayne’s frowning down at him like he’s trying to vivisect him with just his gaze. He just gets up and walks purposefully out of the room in nothing but his boxers to stand by the door.

Will sits up, looking after Steve with a worried frown Eddie swears he can feel beating within his own chest. He wrings his hands in the loose fabric of the too-long sleeves of Steve’s sweater as he stands. “Where are we going?” he asks, leaving no wiggle room to be left behind.

Wayne turns away, rifling through Eddie’s drawers to grab a T-shirt and basketball shorts for Steve, who’s still standing eerily still by the front door.

“Eddie?” Will asks, but Eddie just shrugs because he doesn’t know, can’t seem to think past the clawing dread festering within him.

Uncle Wayne huffs, “your Ma’s house,” without looking at either of them as he strides out of the room and toward Steve.

Seeing as Eddie’s own Mom is six feet in the ground, he’s going to assume Wayne means Mama Byers. He looks over to Will who’s still standing there, fidgeting with Steve’s sweater with a wide-eyed look Eddie can’t quite read.

“I’m late,” Will murmurs, staring up at Eddie like he can fix this. “She’s going to be mad.”

Eddie strides over to slap his arm companionably over Will’s shoulders as he drags him out of the room. “Nah, just worried, baby Byers.”

Will huffs. “That’s worse,” he murmurs. And yeah, it is. Ms. Byers has spent enough time with that grieving, panicked look in her eyes, that Eddie’d rather never see it again, to be honest. But it’s a little late for that.

Wayne’s pulling Steve’s shorts up, tying the string around his waist. He’s already got a shirt on, arms dangling loosely as he makes no move to help. It would be a sweet moment if Steve’s eyes weren’t still staring vacantly at the front door.

Wayne pushes Steve forward, shuffling him into the flip flops Eddie left abandoned at the front door. Steve flexes his toes around them, and finally shows signs of life. “Thank you,” he murmurs, reaching out to open the front door, and step surely down the steps as they all scramble to follow.

All four of them pile into Wayne’s truck, Wayne in the driver’s seat, and Eddie in the back with Will, Steve sandwiched in between them. No one mentions the empty passenger seat.

Without prompting, Will digs his walkie talkie out of his deep jean pocket, and depresses the talk button. “Party meeting at my house,” Will says, “Over.”

He lets go of the button, and stares down at the thing, like he’s willing his friend’s voices to trickle out. Wayne watches him through the rearview mirror, before flicking his eyes back to the road.

Eddie jumps when voices start speaking over each other, chaotic and loud, until Dustin’s voice rings over them all. “Code red?” he demands.

Will shifts his eyes over to Steve before meeting Eddie’s own. Eddie shrugs because honestly, who could say what the fuck is going on at this point?

“Uh, code yellow?” Will replies questioningly.

“That’s not a thing!” Dustin says.

There’s the sound of a scuffle, then silence, before it’s Mike’s voice ringing out over the tinny speaker. “Is it about whatever the hell happened with Steve?”

Steve doesn’t look up at the sound of his name. A stone’s dropping in Eddie’s stomach. He’s not sure where it lands, but he can feel the impact shake him. Something’s very very wrong.

Will responds, “yeah,” on a quiet exhale. He takes a deep breath before continuing. “Be quick.”

Will shuts the thing off and stuffs it back into his pocket. The silence immediately suffocates, clouding Eddie’s mind. There’s a careful three inches between his thigh and Steve’s that leaves him buzzing.

There haven’t been any spaces between them, not since that first night in the Upside-Down, huddled down in Harrington’s closet, waiting for a dawn that’ll never come. The space aches now, like a missing limb, like a string pulling them together, rope burning Eddie’s skin as he resists.

It’s a relief to pull up to the Byers’ house. Even when Mama Byers storms out, the rain cloud of anger across her face barely masking the banked terror beneath it. Jonathan trails out after her, eyes shining with the worry he hasn’t been able to shake in almost a year. Will crawls out of the backseat, and stands hesitantly beside the open door, looking down at his shoes as his Mom approaches. She scoops Will into her arms with a curse, scolding him fiercely even as Will burrows into her embrace.

Jonathan hovers, palms resting gently onto both their shoulders, like it physically pains him not to be involved, but he doesn’t have the heart to push in between them.

Eddie watches the scene for a moment, letting the ache settle into him before he’s sliding out of the car to stand by Wayne’s side.

When Steve doesn’t immediately get out, Eddie calls, “Stevie?” until he’s crawling out to stand beside Eddie. The contrast between their outfits is startling in the cold, November air. Eddie’s got goosebumps. Steve’s got nothing at all.

“Aren’t you cold, honey?” Eddie looks up from the bare skin of Steve’s arm to watch Mama Byers round the front of the truck, hands outstretched, as if to pull him into his own hug.

“Wait, don’t—” Eddie says, but her hands are already clasped around Steve’s forearms.

Steve hisses, taking a step back and yanking his arms out of her hands. Mama Byers looks up at him, mouth open, eyes wide. No one speaks.

There’s silence. Then, the loud tires of three kid’s shitty bikes eating up the pavement as fast as possible. They skid into view, abandoning bikes to crowd around Will like he’s an injured deer they're trying to protect.

Wayne sighs. “Guess we better go in,” he says. His voice is monotone, but when Eddie looks over at him, his eyes are sad as he gazes at Steve. “We got a lot to talk about.

Part 75

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren

[virigeneracy]

hey guys so im the original creator of this lmao. enjoy. you can enjoy it even more over here!

started as a self-indulgent thing but yall are weird (complimentary) so yall get to partake in it as well

[ratcate]

in this house we don't know how to paint feet

[sugar-grigri]

What is a family?

Hello everyone, I'm in exam period so we're going to start with a very short analysis

We saw in the previous analysis, in chapter 152, that Denji wanted to be a CSM and that suffering, mental and physical pain, was inherent to being a CSM. Suffering was a claim for the protagonist, that of accepting his suffering to the point of finding pleasure in it, that of accepting that experiences can be painful, of not being protected

Especially by Nayuta, the control devil who can only conceive of happiness with one person, and that's enough for her.

But above all, I think that since Denji had accepted the fact of committing himself to the path of suffering, he didn't want Nayuta to join him, hence his desire to keep her away from him.

But what this chapter shows is that a family can't be chosen, it's simply there.

People do what they do, always projecting all their frustrations onto CSM, this faceless chimera. CSM is as much a good-luck charm as a match to be burned for bad luck.

Denji's dream of being seen was full of meaning, because what people see in CSM is precisely their suffering and despair.

Yes, CSM represents suffering - yes, you have to suffer to be him, just as he will only evoke suffering for others.

The contract with the fire demon was simple: become what you want. As he had suggested to Yuko, the thought-hearing monster was suitable for a socially eccentric girl who had trouble understanding others.

So when people try to burn CSM, they're burning what they want CSM to be: their suffering.

The lighter was an image that had already been introduced by Barem, who ironically presented himself as a CSM fan, foreshadowing the fact that many CSM fans had pacted with the demon of fire, fire capable of destroying them in return.

Burning CSM to make the wannabe CSM disappear always comes down to the same logic: CSM is there to save, whether this is done by reigniting him or by killing him.

So the fire is there to atone for the suffering, Denji simply tries to tell them that the fire is already there, burning down his apartment and his Meowy family and the dogs.

Why burn Denji? When he's already burning. He has already lost a part of himself.

Denji proclaims that he seeks suffering because he wants it to be his alone. He realised that even if he stopped being a CSM, those close to him would continue to be attacked as if the cycle had never been completed.

Denji has never had any confidence in himself, obediently following the rules laid down for him every time. Nayuta's rules, which symbolise this apartment, didn't work, and neither did those of the public hunters, because even if you respect the contract, suffering will always be the end result.

So Denji tries to free himself from all these rules, because they don't allow him to escape suffering.

He also tries to free himself from his loved ones, because it doesn't allow them to escape either, but humanity won't let Denji be free.

Denji had made it clear that he didn't want to hurt mankind because he wanted to preserve the last link that bound him to them: the kiss he had with Asa (Yoru). He doesn't want to belong fully to the demons, as Nayuta had recommended, but why not become one after all?

Denji loves violence, even against humans. He likes it because he is still CSM after all, a monster whose raison d'être is suffering. Yet the link that allows him to consider himself still on the other side is a simple kiss that didn't cause him any pain.

Because this kiss is exactly Denji's life, a touch of pleasure in an existence that is always painful. A boy who can't even say he can't betray humanity because he has friends because he has none.

Nayuta has never thought of her existence as separate from Denji's, the reason for her happiness, her beloved big brother. So she is now facing her worst fear: being cut off from this dearest of beings, being rejected by him.

But as they try to keep her away from her ailing brother, telling her he's no longer her family, she realises that this thing that rejects her, that hurts himself horribly, is still her family.

More to the point, it's the person behind this faceless monster who's reaching out to him, because CSM isn't a being capable of embracing with his chainsaws. Denji's arms are outstretched to him, as if he's standing between CSM behaving like a monster and his own anxieties: there's an obvious love there. She shouldn't see her fear in the foreground, what she should see is Denji.

This thing that dares to cut ties with her, to put itself in danger to the point of suffering so much, has never ceased to be her family.

The only way to see anything apart from CSM, apart from this figure of suffering, is to love Denji.

is to see the boy behind it.

A boy who can't stop laughing despite suffering, in a way that may be terrifying, but which gradually gives the impression of a brother forcing himself to smile to avoid putting his sister in danger. Look, I'm crazy, so stay away from me! And I don't want you anyway!

His laughter is as uncontrolled as his gestures, all acting as reflexes to keep Nayuta away from danger.

CSM is a being who belongs to neither world, hero of humanity when it suits them, hero of the underworld terrified by his fellow creatures, he is held responsible for both worlds, the suffering of demons and that of men.

But Denji may not belong to either world, but he does belong to a family.

Denji may not be seen by people, but he has been seen by a demon who loves him deeply.

The hero has always been hunted because he has never been accepted by humanity, suffering while swallowing that of others, he has always had to be rekindled, to serve someone once again.

And finally he's given permission to run away.

No CSM, don't swallow the suffering of others

It's hard enough to swallow your own.

Denji, you are loved by the demon of control who now agrees to do something unnatural for her, to allow you to escape her control, her vigilance, her protection. Because she knows she doesn't have to lock you up in a gilded cage to be able to find you.

A family always waits with open arms, don't they?

[croucify]

✶ STARGIRL — hamzahthefantastic x reader

007 ✶ Party Monster

stargirl masterfile – next – previous

SUMMARY: hamzah has a crush on a youtuber who's always out and about and slushies see their relationship progress on social media! (smau)

DISCLAIMER: reader is a brown haired girl and for some pics that aren't faceless, i'll be using olivia rodrigo cause i love her and she’s filipino like me hehehe

for y/n @ynlnupdates

It's been rumored that Y/N is hosting a party tonight and has invited multiple of her friends. My DMs are open for any photos or videos you have from said party <3

41 replies 25 retweets 73 likes

user222 BABES hamzah just posted a pic of her in his story

↳ user791 the way he's got the biggest crush on her and he's so open about it omg

user086 oh my gosh im so excited for all the pictures

user345 all she does is party bruh and she fr playing wit hamzah's feelings

the music was blaring loudly in the bar and different colored lights were being flashed. you were going around the bar, greeting all your friends and meeting people they brought to the party with them. behind you was hamzah, you had his hand in yours as you walked around and you would squeeze his hand to see if he was doing alright.

you two were together almost the whole night, stuck to each other like you were attached by the hip.

until your mutual friends arrived and split you guys apart. he was occupied by them all night while you were hosting the party and catching up with your friends.

at some point, you were looking around the bar for him, feeling incomplete without hin by your side and suddenly, you bump into him.

"oh my god hi," you said, a soft blush rising to your cheeks.

he was about to speak when another one of your friends called out for you and pulled you away from him. you mouth sorry to him and he just smiles at you.

the whole night, hamzah was on your mind. he was on your mind when you did shots with your friends, when another boy flirted with you, when you danced, anything. when hamzah saw you on the dance floor with another guy, he felt himself tense up, avoiding you the rest of the night.

it had felt weird. you two were just friends right?

right?

as the night was slowly coming to an end, whenever your friends bid goodbye, you insisted on coming with them outside until they got into their ride.

when the bar was empty, you made your way towards hamzah who was sitting on one of the stools with a drink in his hand. you took a seat beside him. he was quiet and you were too though he could see you from his peripheral vision.

your head was in your hands, hamzah calling for the bartender you had hired and asked for water.

he taps your shoulder and your head shoots up slowly, he opens the bottle then hands it to you with a small smile. you feel your stomach doing backflips before smiling at him and taking the bottle.

"thanks," you tell him, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"wanna go now? i'll drive," he tells you but you shook your head.

you got off your stool, pulling it closer to his before sitting on it again. you place your head on his shoulder and a hand on top of his. "let's just stay here for a while."

hamzah felt nervous, biting his lip to hide his smile but fails. he was glad you couldn't see him. then right after, he wraps and arm around your waist, hand fiddling where your top ended.

you had fallen asleep in hamzah's arms after a while then he drove you both back to the air bnb, him wiping your makeup off before letting you get changed into your sleeping clothes.

"night hamzah, you're the best." you said softly as he tucked you in your bed.

"good night."

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tiktokroom Y/N spotted getting cozy with TikTok star, Vinnie Hacker at her party last night. Could a romance spark between these two? 👀

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user628 no fucking way

user001 hamzah & y/n all the way bro

user372 told yall she was playing with hamzah's feelings

slushyfan noooooo

user123 thought she was dating hamzah???

user555 @ynln girlll wake up

it was the next day already and the first thing hamzah had seen on his phone was the news that came out about the girl he was in the room with.

martin had texted, asking if it were true and he had no idea what to answer. after all, he saw them dancing together last night.

who's to say she didn't have anything feelings for the guy?

✶ taglist — @cdbabymp3 @noturbabe22 @dabuggh3 @thatmartinkitten @tumb1rgir1z @mfcherry @ldrvinyl @certainfestivalnerdshepherd @seasidelily @jisyng @brucewayngfreal @beamuah @maybankfr @nickmillersn1gf @ivvees-blog

LMK IF U WANNA BE ADDEDDD!!!

[barrenclan]

i was hit by the dream curse last night

basically a friend of mine and i had made deepdark real through the means of. idk black magic ? alchemy ? doesn't matter just know we made him a real boy except he was made of like, swamp water ? Idk it was weird it was like some weirdass sludge. Also he acted really weirdly ?

Basically he has two forms, one where he was a sludge deer torso and he (mostly) acted like he normally does in the comic, and one where he looked acted like. a really clingy sludge feral wolf???

also you were hanging out in my living room while using my computer and you were strangely okay the entire ordeal? at some point, sludge feral wolf deepdark walked up to you and you just. pat him all over his face. and when you saw him for the first time after my friend and i brought him to life, you looked at him and was like. "yup. that's deepdark." and just went back to doing whatever it was you were doing on my computer

oh and in his sludge deer torso form he kept trying to kill me and my friend for some reason. probably because we made him a swamp water monster.

The dream also had some sorta sidequest that was like a star wars and masters of the universe crossover except the characters were legos and the empire was defiance?? i would tell you more about this part of the dream but it was confusing and i don't remember it well.

No need to interrupt me with the Deepdark homunculus while I'm scrolling on Tumblr.

That is a really funny caption in concept.

Oh it's always reassuring when someone starts with a nameless, faceless shambling group of people.

SeaspongeClan... Tiger Tiger crossover?

Depending on how old you are it gets progressively funnier with the idea that I started this comic then.

Oh that's..................... really gross.