#and then do some 'the stuff i missed' posts

[tonycries]

We Don’t Have No Babies!

Synopsis. Well, it’s a bit difficult to have no babies when they’re well and fully intent on fúcking one into you.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, bréeding, mentions of kids, máting press, pússydrunk boys, manhandling, marking, spitting, degradation, praise, cúmplay, the elders ugh (Gojo’s), some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.9k

A/N. WHEWW take this as an apology gift for missing yesterday’s post date, I overslept eheheh.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - What’s another?

“Don’t hah- pass out on me yet, doll.” Toji hisses. Spreading your swollen folds further apart with his fingers, already stretched so obscenely around his swollen cock, and only trying to squeeze deeper. “What was it that brat said again?”

And you can only let out a broken whine in response - too high off the stretch and the utterly sinful pool of his cum spreading on the sheets below. It’s been like this for hours now, both of you barely lucid at this point. But you can’t bring yourself to be disgusted, not even a little bit. 

Because Toji’s throwing your legs over his shoulders, pressing down, down, down, till your knees were at your tits. Folded in half, and stuffed full beneath him. God, you weren’t going to make it out alive. 

“Oh, riiight.” he drags out, voice strained. Deceivingly innocent had it not been for that devilish grin. “He called you ‘mama’.”

And there it was - Megumi’s tiny, seemingly mindless slip-up that got you into this mess in the first place. One that had poked some raw, primal part of Toji so dangerously awake.

The one that had Toji splitting you in half with his aching cock, hips pressing so hard against yours that it almost hurts. Fucking into you in slow, languid motions of his hips, while he drinks in your sobbed out little, “Ah- Hngh- Toji, s’too much I-” 

Lazily, he thumbs open your folds even more, watching in awe at the way his seed dribbles and oozes down your thighs, seeping into the mattress. It takes him a while to form the words, too hazy from how warm and sloppy you were inside. 

“Too much?” he drawls, with the audacity to sound genuinely taken aback. “I don’t think it’s enough, ma.”

It’s the only warning you get - barely - before he laces his fingers on top of your head to take him deeper, snapping his hips harder. Sloppier. Sensitive cock stinging with sensitivity, balls squeezing painfully. It hurt, but it hurt so good. And Toji wasn’t even sure if he could cum again. But he was milking his cock on your pussy like he was gonna fill you up until he physically couldn’t anymore.

“B-but m’so full.” you babble, mouth dropping into a fucked-out little oh! as you look down at the way you were swallowing him up so well. “Dunno if I can’t hngh- t-take anymore.” 

Oh shit, had he said that out loud? Ah, who gives a fuck. Because Toji was chuckling in surprise, stuck on the way you could still form coherent sentences - he had to fix that, of course. 

“Shhh. Don’ worry about it. Jus’ need to fill you up- ah, fuck a baby into ya, ma.”  he gently kisses away those big, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. “All you gotta do is sit there all pretty n’ take- it-” 

Hand snaking down to toy with your swollen clit - frenzied, barely-circular motions just to get you off. Because shit he can’t just stuff you full of his cock without getting the mother of his future kids off, right? And he let you know, of course. Maybe he was whispering sweet nothings in your ear - probably it was just promises of how he was gonna fill your pretty lil’ cunt till morning comes and Megumi was gonna be the best big brother and-

“-m’gonna make ‘em breakfast. And you’ll dress ‘em up. We’ll read oh- them bedtime stories and-” he’s babbling so pathetically into the crook of your neck now. “-an’ tuck ‘em into bed- Oh, fuck fuck fuck.” Drunk off your pussy and the heavenly feeling of his heavy balls squeezing so dangerously, letting his hips go out of control now. “And then- hngh, and then-”

“T-then what?” you let out such cute sobs into his open mouth, seeing stars behind your eyes each time he ravages you.

“Ya really wanna know, ma?”

Somehow, his words have you squeezing around him so good. Enough that it’s almost difficult to move inside you. Enough that Toji doesn’t even realize that he’s cumming and cumming so hard that you’re bloated with his seed. Squelching out of your quivering pussy and soaking his cock as he doesn’t even think of stopping even as you keen at your poor overfilled pussy, teeth latching onto your earlobe as he holds you still for him. 

“And then…” Toji’s hot breath fans your face, voice guttural and sounding like he was losing a little bit of his sanity with each thrust. Hips moving again and again to fuck his cum deeper into you. “And then m’gonna fuck another one into you.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Lonely? No problem!

“Aww, m’sorry. Did I make you feel lonely, my love?” Kissing your lips softly, running his hands all over the pretty lil’ lace covering your body - just barely, of course. “Did I leave my pretty lil’ wife all alone in this big house?” 

You give him a pouty little nod, and oh does that do something to Nanami’s heart - and his achingly hard cock. And he can’t help but pull the drenched fabric of your panties further to the side, greedily honing in on the way you glisten and clench around him. 

“Well, we should fix that, right? So that my pretty baby is never alone in here.”

You would be reassured by his answer - had it not been for the way Nanami doesn’t even wait for your reply. Instead, looking straight into your eyes while he pushes his thick cock deeper inside you. Not even fucking preparing you as he usually would.

“Oh! Oh, mm fuck-” And it’s all you can do to buck into his touch and just fucking take it while he grunts at the slight resistance. For once in his life more concerned about trying to fuck desperately into your dripping cunt than whether or not your poor pussy would hurt herself trying to take him. 

That merciful, practical little part of his brain going slow to let you adjust to his massive cock - because, well, he couldn’t break the mother of his future children. Now, could he?

But oh how you’d beg to differ with the way Nanami fucks into you in languid , shallow grinds of his hips. No matter how many times Nanami stuffed you full of his cock - his size never failed to disappoint. Stretching you out, fingers swiping at your clit, expertly grazing against all the right spots he knew so maddeningly well. 

“Two or three?”

It takes you a second to register that he’s waiting for your answer - too delirious with the way your husband’s splitting you apart deeper and deeper on his cock. Leaving neat crescents of his nails on your hips as he holds your slutty pussy still. 

“W-what?”

“Two or three?” Nanami gives your pulsing clit a little smack! as if to get your attention, hips stuttering ever-so-slightly at the way you squeeze his thick cock in surprise. “How many babies am I fuckin’ into you, my love?” 

Oh. Oh, shit. You weren’t making it out alive.

But were you really complaining? No.

Swallowing thickly, “Ah! Fuck, Kento- wan’ two.”

And maybe you’re a mastermind, maybe you’re an idiot. Because nowhere is the gentleman that you married, Nanami’s spitting on your quivering cunt once. Twice. Watching like a predator stalking his prey at the way it misses - purposefully, splattering against your inner thigh.

Smearing it all over your pussy and your panties - which he was too impatient, too starved - to remove. Messy. 

It’s all Nanami needed to do before he’s bottoming out completely. Pressing his forehead against yours in such a sweet motion, even though his hips were so mean. Drinking in your delirious whines as his heavy balls smack your ass. Over and over-

The duality making your head spin as he fucks his cute lil’ wife dumb, part of his sanity dancing away with his restraint every time your slutty hole sucks him up so deliciously. 

“Shit. More?” he grunts, sounding absolutely wrecked. Moaning at the way you tug at his hair, legs wrapping around his toned waist as if to urge him to go faster. Deeper. Begging. Begging him to ruin you. More more more- 

And, of course, what his girl wants - she gets. Because Nanami’s dragging his weeping tip across your swollen folds, all the way out till he’s collecting your sweet juices on his head. “Better take it like my good wife then.”

Then he’s pushing and pushing inside your tight pussy, but not like he was before. Jagged, desperate grinds of his hip - no adoration, no warmth. Just fucking you like his little slut, high off the idea of fucking his cum into you till you couldn’t walk. Till you were so full of him that he’s all you could think of. “We’ll have such beautiful babies, my love.” 

“Shit shit shit, Kento- yer gonna ruin me-” you’re whining, body torn between arching into Nanami’s unforgiving cock and running away. 

As if you ever had a chance - he was holding you so bruisingly by the hips, gasping into your mouth. “Shhh, that’s the point.”  Fucking you so filthy, each word punctuated by his out-of-control hips, so harsh and unfocused with lust that those tufts of blond at his base scratch your sensitive nub. And the feeling is so fucking obscene that you barely hear the words that follow. “You jus’ focus on taking care of my babies, n’ m’gonna be the one to ruin this pretty cunt- The one to fill you up- fuck. ”

Nanami throws his head back as you squeeze the soul out of his throbbing cock, so pent-up and needy that you’re creaming all over his cock already. And of course, Nanami isn’t any better - because with a strangled groan of your name, he’s cumming. Hard. almost painfully so. 

“N’ you’ll never be lonely, cuz everyone’s gonna see you and see me. I did that.” 

Jolts of electricity going all the way from his heavy balls to the thick, hot ropes of cumming filling your dripping pussy. Painting it all a desperate, desperate white.

And shit was Nanami an entirely different man tonight. Pulling out ever-so-slightly, only to admire his seed gushing out of you - so lewd and his. 

“Y’know what, my love, I don’t think two will be enough after all.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Pretty (and his)

“Awww, pretty baby.” Geto purrs, in such a dangerously low voice, smacking his tip - so red, and angry - all across your swollen folds. He bites his lip at the way his cum spills down your legs, pooling onto the hardwood floor with a deafening tap! tap! tap! “Y’want it so badly, huh?”

“Shit- hngh- please!”

You don’t know what you’re begging for - maybe release. Maybe mercy. Maybe to be anywhere but here - shoved against the wall right beside the front door, dress hiked up, almost your way to go clubbing with your friends before your beloved boyfriend had caught you. And stuffed you full of his cum, at least.

Whatever it is, Geto only gets messier, teasing your sloppy hole by slamming in - just barely grazing that one spot. And pulling out completely, watching you clench and glisten in the dim lighting. In. And out. In and out in and-

“Sugu!” you squeal, tired of the way he was having way too much making such a mess of your pussy. Swiping at your slick, and shoving his seed back into you - smirking at the obscene mess. 

“Mhm?” he nods absent-mindedly. Eyes flitting between your ravaged pussy and that absolutely adorable pout on your lips. Chuckling, “What~? If I cum in this cute pussy one more time, you’re sure to get pregnant, y’know.” 

Scoffing, “Shoulda thought of that when you came inside me the first time.”

Geto rolls his thumb over your sore clit - just as a little punishment - breath hot against your ear as he whispers raggedly.  “And are you complaining, gorgeous?”

“N-no…” 

“Then?”

He’s licking little circles at the crook of your neck now, in time with the maddening, frenzied patterns on your cunt. Enough friction to keep those pretty lil’ whines spilling from your swollen lips, but still teasing you just enough to have you bucking and keening onto his aching cock for more more more-

“Please! I jus’ want your cock, Sugu-”

All it takes is your broken little whimper, and it’s like something snapped - because Geto’s plunging into your plushy walls completely. Finally giving you an ounce of that friction you’ve been craving for so long. Only half the man he was once before while fucks into you deliriously. 

“F-fuck. Love it when you’re so messy f’me.” he’s hissing lowly, as if you could be anything but messy. As if he’s not pulling you back by the hair to bounce you like some slut, hips snapping mercilessly. As if he isn’t absolutely ruining you.

And maybe if you were in any better state of mind you’d have said something about the pure disrespect in his cock. Fucking you nothing like the sweet sweet whispers he was muttering in your ear, ragged and hoarse with desire.

“Gonna fill you up, huh? Give me some cute lil’ babies?” he groans,nibbling on your earlobe, fingers pressing down around your throat so the only response he gets are wet gurgles. Ones that go straight to his twitching balls, as Geto keeps running his mouth pussydrunk. “They better have your personality, don’ wanna share my pretty girl. Isn’t that right?”

So mean. Just babbling like you rarely get to see him - usually the ever-graceful Geto Suguru. Now, drunk on your tight pussy and the image of you with a little baby with black hair and him - there for it all. His perfect little family. 

“Gonna be the perfect momma, huh?” 

Geto only gets a broken little whimper in response - one that almost makes him want to go easy on you. Almost, instead, he settles for breathing out a ragged, “Fuck fuck fuck, yeah, gorgeous. Squeeze me s’tight like that - jus’ like that jus’ like that-” 

Trailing such a delicate finger up your legs, Geto pools that sinful mixture of your slick and his cum on his fingertips - before shoving them unforgivingly in your mouth. The slightly salty taste was so addictive on your tongue - and, hell, you aren’t even mad that you’re running late to meet your friends.

Smirking as you gag and mewl around him, he only gets sloppier. Faster. Licking a long, languid stripe up your neck, just knowing that he’s gonna cum inside your cute pussy harder than he has his whole life. Have your poor pussy bloated with him him him- “Now, yer gonna go to that lil’ party of yours jus’ like this. And everyone’s gonna know who you belong to.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Can’t help himself

“N-no, swear-” Choso lets out a broken little whimper into the crook of your neck. Feet flat on the bed, hips bucking up mindlessly over and over to where you were splayed out so prettily on top of him. So messy and dripping all over his glistening cock. “Gonna ngh- be the last one- I s-swear.”

You’ve heard this broken little mantra before - and you knew it wouldn’t end well for your poor pussy. Especially not with Choso bullying his weeping cock back into your snug cunt. “But, Cho!” you gasp, “We’re out of-”

He knows you’re out of condoms. But, really, does it matter?

Because shit were you like the gates of heaven spread wide open for him. And, well, here he was - completely pussydrunk, two rounds and a still rock-hard cock later. The only thing on his mind from then on was to not paint your pretty pussy white with his seed, no matter how much he wanted do. 

“Last time, baby. Promise I won’t cum inside.” And then he’s batting this long lashes so unfairly up at you. So fucking beautiful with his dark hair untied, lips swollen, eyes-half-hooded and miles away. And, well, how could you say no to that?

And you’ve barely gotten out your delirious little nod before Choso’s wrapping two strong arms around your waist, pulling you so intimately closer like he worshipped you - while he fucks your hot cunt like anything but. So hard that you knew it would leave marks - your nails on his chest, his balls on your ass, fingers on your waist. 

God, you were squeezing so desperately around him and he just thinks he might just cum right then and there. So fucking perfect that Choso knows he’s never buying another box of condoms ever again. 

“F-fuck, feels s’good. Love having you so deep n’ messy inside me.”

You were going to be the death of him.

“Hngh- fuck fuck fuck, yeah? You like that, baby?” he groans lowly. Abs burning and flexing each time he rams his cock into your tight pussy, absolutely loving the way you were leaking his cum all over the sheets. 

“Shit- I-” 

“Yes, Cho~?”

Face burning in embarrassment, choking pathetically on his words, Choso instead lets his hips do the talking. Strained whimpers of your name leaving him each time he bullies his painfully twitching cock through your plushy walls.

Voice cracking almost-embarrassingly at the end as he rambles, “Oh my god- y’feel so fucking good wrapped around me, baby. Wanna- hngh-” Trying his very best to sound like every cute lil’ whimper didn’t make his thoughts steer into the dangerous territory of how pretty you’d be with his kid. Of a little girl with dark hair and your eyes and-

You. His hips speeding up now, so sloppy with now rhyme or rhythm. How round and glowing you’d be with his kid. You, how everyone would know that he was that ruined your pretty pussy n’ got you this way. You, you, you-

“Wanna cum in this cute pussy, baby.” He finally confesses. Hips getting so messy - mindless, quick little jabs that have you keening on top of him, balls squeezing painfully. “Wanna fill y’up until you can’t take it anymore, fuck you so full until we have a pretty baby. Can I, baby? Please don’t say no please please-”

And at this point all you can do is whine and buck your hips to meet his merciless cadence, letting Choso crane his neck and kiss you senseless. “Fuck yeah. Thought you’d never ask-” you mutter, muffled around where he was sucking on your lips, like they were his favorite candy. “Want you to cum inside me, Cho.”

Well, you didn’t need to tell Choso twice because no sooner have the words left your lips before he’s giving you one harsh thrust. Veins throbbing against your gummy walls, again and again. 

Tears pricking his eyes as he cums with such a guttural grunt of your name. “Gonna have a pretty lil’ girl.” Both white-white pleasure and the image of you and him and his daughter flashing behind his eyes. “She’ll look just as beautiful as you, baby. N’ have your cute smile.”

Your own orgasm is nothing more than a few tingles, overstimulated and limp on top of Choso as stuffs you full of his seed. Thick, white ropes that gushing all the way out of your snug pussy, smearing all over his twitching balls. 

You could get used to this.

And it’s such a heavenly feeling that Choso barely registers his hips moving again, as if on instinct. Fucking mindlessly into you again. Again and again. Gasping, breath hot against your ear. 

“Only one more, baby. Promise.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - A reward

“F-fuck, woman” Sukuna grunts, fingers so bruising on your hips as you slide down his throbbing erection. Inch by fucking inch, keening at the delicious burn. “Y’act so innocent but you’ve got such a slutty lil’ pussy, huh?”

As expected, the only response he gets is an incoherent babble of agreement. Your eyes watering, drool dripping down the corner of your mouth as you struggle to take him. And his sharp eyes narrow in amusement at the sight of his painfully inexperienced consort’s pretty cunt sucking him up so eagerly. Hips stuttering and leaking your sweet, sweet so sloppily juices all over his thighs.

Humans were always such interesting little creatures.

“Tch.”

Slow ones, too, apparently.

Because immediately, Sukuna’s stuffing himself into your sloppy pussy as far as it would go. Groaning at the resitance, a large hand pumping his cock slowly - enticingly - as he fucks his hips in quick, shallow little thrusts, just to fit himself inside your snug cunt. 

And you needed to breathe in and out maybe, relax your plushy walls, but Sukuna wasn’t going to wait. Why would he? He had his favorite woman - not that he’d ever let you know - sat on his lap, legs spread so shamefully and bouncing on his thick cock.

“F-fuck.” his jaw falls slack ever so slightly, groaning at the feeble resistance against his massive cock. Still only half-inside you but still pushing relentlessly. “S’like your pussy was made f’me, brat. Milking me so well.”

“Shit shit shit- hah- ‘Kuna, feel s’good-” you gasp, thighs quivering with the pressure to meet his rough cadence. And Sukuna huffs out a low laugh at your audacity to call his name, feeling charitable enough today to forgive this transgression. 

Instead toying with your pretty clit, pinching and rolling between his thick fingers, loving the way you buck and squeal his name. 

“Hmm, feels good?” he hums dangerously, amused at your barely-lucid little nod. Fucking into you like his personal fucktoy - his favorite one. “Good ‘nough to give me an heir?”

At this your eyes snap open - but not for long because you just have to screw them shut again with Sukuna finally bottoming out in a quick, harsh thrust. Splitting you apart deeper and deeper on his cock, veins throbbing a maddening little bump! bump! bump! matching your heartbeat. 

You barely have the time to breathe out a sigh of relief before he’s fucking into you. Unforgivingly. Like the monster he claims to be. All the blood draining into his achingly dick at the idea of fucking his cum into you until you couldn’t walk. 

And he tells you - chuckling at the cute lil’ ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth each time his fat head hits your cervix. “Y’want that, my little slut? To be my cute plaything to breed? Help m’make the next king of curses?”

Fuck, you don’t know if you’re reeling more from the way he was ramming his cock into you or the way he was talking to you in that mean little tone. 

“Mmm- yes! Yes yes yes!”

“Use your words.”

“Wan’-” you hiccup, batting your lashes at him so tearily, in a way that makes Sukuna’s heart thump so strangely. An uneven little beat matching the led rhythm of his hips. “Wan’ your cum- gonna give you a kid.”

So cockdrunk and delirious, you barely register the way he wrestles your arms behind your back, using it like leverage to bounce you harder and harder on his cock. Only looking up at him with such cute lil’ heart eyes as Sukuna uses you as he pleases. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck yeah?‘ he gasps into your open mouth. Teeth latching onto the crook of your neck, biting down right over your pulse. Dangerous. “Gonna make me an heir so powerful. Have him treat you like a queen n’ kill everyone that doesn’t? Ya like that, my lil’ slut?”

“Shit- ah- I want that s’bad, ‘Kuna.”

Knock! Knock! Knock!

And oh how pretty you look, cunt clenching and all surprised at the knock on the door - some lowly human here to beg for their life, maybe. But it doesn’t matter, because Sukuna’s only licks away the big, fat tears streaming down your cheek, hips burning while he breeds you like some animal. Hard, and almost violent.

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same, breathless and shaking on Sukuna’s lap while he fill you with his hot seed. Thick and intoxicating. Hips unstopping, just animalistic little movements from such a carnal part of himself. Over and over-

And you’re so fucking drunk off of your lord’s cock that you barely even realize when he’s thumbing your ravaged cunt open. Letting his cum drip all the way down to his gaudy throne, on full display for whoever was about to-

“Come in.”

It’s adorable how you try to scramble off his lap, trying - and failing - to cover yourself up as the door cracks open. 

“Not yet, woman.” Sukuna grasps you in an iron-hold grip, dangerously sharp nails tethering right at your throat and your hips. Starting to drag you up and down on his swollen cock once more with no concern or care for whoever was about to enter. “Gotta make sure it takes.”

It was filthy. 

Completely debauched. And exactly where you wanted to be. You and your lord - and maybe your future heir, too.

♡ GOJO SATORU - Give ‘em what they want!

“Hah- f-fuck imagine- Imagine I fucked the next s-strongest into you right now.”

Oh. 

You knew by the look in his eyes that something was off - that something hadn’t gone well in that meeting with the elders. Really, it was a miracle he attended in the first place, but somehow you had an inkling that this was the type of something that would have you needing a miracle.

That was three hours ago.

And fuck did you need a miracle - because Gojo had you splayed out on top your office desk, his cum spreading in a pool beneath, you throbbing cock stuffing in and out of your snug cunt while you try not to alert the entirety of Jujutsu High about how needy the great Gojo Satoru was being right now.

Gojo’s ramming his swollen dick into your poor, overstimulated pussy like he was drunk off the sight of you all cockdrunk and in a tight mating press. Moaning at the sting of painfully hard erection twitching inside you, and your nails running down his back. 

Not even bothering to let you adjust this time before he’s fucking you again and again and-

You think it’s a bit unfair, really. Because who were you against the strongest? Well, the pretty lil’ wife who’s going to give him his successor, apparently. 

“Shit- wouldn’t that be funny?” he lets out a humorless laugh, wrestling your legs further and further apart. Eyeing the way you suck him up lewdly, “If I made my kid the strongest n’ just wiped these old fossils out?”

“T-Toru- we’ll get ca-”

“Caught? Who fuckin’ cares, they want a Gojo successor n’ they’re gonna get one.”

He’s letting out his frustration in the way he chases both your highs for the - well, you lost count which orgasm it was at this point. Letting you stain all over the expensive desk as he yells out little curses into your mouth.

And oh how you want to kiss that little furrow in his brow, to whisper away his stress - but, no, the only thing getting Gojo out of this bad mood was to fully and thoroughly ruin his girl’s cute lil’ cunt. 

But Toru-” you sob into his open mouth, hips bucking wildly for more. “What if I can’t give you the strongest…” You know you’re babbling deliriously, little insecurities you didn’t even know you had coming to the surface as it really hits you that shit this is your Gojo. And he’s here. And he’s fucking you until he’s sure you’re pregnant.

“Who gives a shit?” he licks away the big, fat tears streaking down your face. Salty on his tongue while he plays with your pretty clit, rubbing quick, tight little circles on it. 

As if to emphasize his point, Gojo brings his fingertips to his mouth with a lewd pop! So blissfully wrapping his lips around them. Darkened blue eyes rolling to the back of his head at the taste - it only spurs him on more. 

Fingers immediately back down on your clit. Frenzied - like he couldn’t wait any longer, like it killed him to not see you cum again. Body bowing into yours, hand digging and bruising on your hips as he holds your filthy pussy still on his cock, 

“Fuck, gonna give it all to you, sweetheart. M’gonna train them to be the strongest n’ protect their pretty mommy.” 

Sloppy, he was so fucking sloppy - such a mess of teeth and spit and pure desire to paint your walls white. 

“Gonna have my eyes, huh? N’ your hair. Fuck they’re gonna regret bringing this up.” Babbling little nonsenses that drove you mad. He sounded so fucking pathetic, crazed with lust. “Ooooh they’re gonna regret it.” Overstimulated enough that it hurt.

Kissing the side of your ankle beside his head, lacing his fingers together to pull you further and further down his rock-hard cock. Sloppy and moving with no rhyme or reason. “Because they fucking hate me. All of ‘em will look at our kid n’ you - so round and pretty and see me. All me.” 

Now, you’ve heard of orgasms that come out of nowhere - ones that have you convulsing and gripping onto Gojo - the desk, his shoulders, his hair. And this was no different. “Ah! Hngh, Toru m’cumming m’cumming oh-”

Delirious, white-hot pleasure cracking behind his eyes, Gojo’s pumping hot thick, hopes ropes of cum into your poor, overfilled pussy. And shit no thrill of taking out the elders could compare to watching the way his seed drips down the side. Slow, and thick, pooling at his quivering balls as he fucks you like an animal. Over and over and-

“Hey, sweetheart, y’think if I cum in you again, they’ll come out twice as strong?”

“...”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

As if I wasn't already exhausted enough this morning...

It's been brought to my attention that people are taking my fanfics, editing them, and sharing them around. I don't have the words to describe how not okay this is. If you don't like something about my fanfic, then I'm sorry to hear that, but there are a lot of other fics out there you can read instead.

I put time and effort and care into my writing, as does every writer. To take my work without permission and change it feels like someone just punched me in the gut. Frankly it makes me not want to share my work at all and to take down all the writing I do have up, because why should I share anything with people if all they're going to do is decide it's not good enough and they're going to do what they want with it and make it "better"?

And before anyone comes at me, this is not what a transformative work does. This is not the same as fanfiction. I'm fucking exhausted from working two eleven hour shifts over the weekend so my brain is not working so someone smarter and more articulate than I am can explain why. I'm tired.

This genuinely makes me want to take down all my works and not share anything new. It's very simple, kiddos: Don't like it? Don't read it. You will miss out on some fanfics that way, just like you'll miss out on some films, or books, or TV shows. I've missed out on really good fic, novels, films, etc, for the same reason. We all do. It's a part of life. Stuff will sometimes have things in it that you don't like. Skim those parts, fast-forward those scenes, grin and bear it, or just go and read/watch something else.

Normally I would make this post unrebloggable but I worry other writers in this fandom might experience the same thing and not realize it. So people are welcome to reblog this. Anyone who's an ass on it will be blocked, no second chances.

Just. Don't do this guys. Holy shit don't do this. What the actual fuck.

[luveline]

omg I just saw your post about Steve where you asked which Steve we wanted. I'm missing KBD Steve so bad rn. Anything like a family movie night would really just heal my soul rn! (love your writings so much btw)

ty for requesting <3 mom!reader, 1k

“Did you play guitar?” 

Steve slinks further down into the corner of the couch, Avery too big but exactly where she’s meant to be in his lap. She’s affectionate from years of the world's most ridiculous parents, he assumes, so he could have Avery sit beside him rather than on top of him, but why bother? She’s gentle about how she sits despite her long limbs, swinging one arm behind his neck as she gets comfortable against his chest. 

“Did I what?” Steve asks. 

“Play guitar?” She points at the TV. “Uncle Eddie plays guitar.” 

“I can play a little bit, nothing like Uncle Eddie,” he says. “Just enough to serenade mom. I’d sing her all her favourites.” 

“So you had a guitar? Where did it go?” 

“I don’t know, babe. Maybe in the attic? There’s not room for all our stuff sometimes, so me and mom box it up and put it up there.” He looks at her knowingly. “Why, do you wanna try?” 

“Can I?” she asks. 

“Not tonight, but tomorrow? Is that okay? I’ll have to get the ladder from the garage, and we’re gonna watch a movie soon.” 

Avery’s pretty easy, as kids go. When Steve says tomorrow she doesn’t whine. In fact, she gives him a grateful, shining smile, the arm that’s laid across the front of him curling tighter as she presses her face into his neck. “Thanks, daddy.” 

He thinks that it’s because he’d guessed what she wanted. But that’s his job, to understand her and make her happy. “You’re welcome.” Then, because he loves her and he’s feeling quite loved up by her hugging and the feeling of her hair under his chin, he drops his voice into some rare parentese for her, “I bet you’ll be great at it. It takes some patience, but you have so much of it, and then you can play anything.” 

She giggles. “Like the song from The Neverending Story?” 

Steve’s heard enough of that song to last him a lifetime. “What about that song you and mom like? Have you seen her?” He’s tempted to sing it, and he figures it won’t hurt under his breath, “So fine and pretty, fooled me with her style and ease–”

Dove interrupts with a laugh as she tries to join in. The words escape her, but her passion makes up for it. She climbs up from her seat across the couch, sending the jellybeans she’d been holding in the lap of her nightgown careening across the living room floor. 

“Dove!” Avery says. 

“It’s okay, I’ll get them,” you say, standing just in front of the doorway with a towel around your shoulders. 

Steve hadn’t known you were there, you were gone so long for your shower he honestly forgot what you were doing. He groans as Dove drops her face into his jaw, what a disaster, but she doesn’t cry so he brushes it off while you clean up.

“Dove’s gonna help,” Steve insists. “Aren’t you, babe? Ow. You’re gonna help mom pick up your jellybeans. Ow, baby, don’t step on me.” 

“No,” Dove says with a giggle. “Sing again, daddy.” 

Beth jumps in behind you in fresh pyjamas, her hair damp and water wetting the neck of her t-shirt. That’s why you’d taken so long —your shower had been commandeered. It’s nice to see you both in some comfy pyjamas, better to see his lovely Beth feeling better. She’d been sick for so long it was starting to make him depressed; seeing her invigorated after a good shower and chasing down jellybeans with a mischievous smile makes his night. “I got them!” she says. “I got them, mom. There’s like, seven.” 

You hold out your hand. “Thank you. I think you got all of them.” 

Steve misses the rest of your conversation, a chubby palm smushed to his nose that he attempts to throw off. Avery giggles at his misfortune as Dove says, “Sing! Sing!” 

“I can’t sing, I can’t breathe,” he says. 

Dove pulls her hand back. She’s as close to rolling her eyes as she can get. “Sing.” 

“Now I can’t, Dove, you’re making me shy.” 

“Dad!” 

“You sing,” he suggests, leaning back, shielding Avery from her younger sister’s volatility with his arms. 

“We’re gonna sing so much.” You beam as you unveil the VHS tape for tonight’s movie. In time, your three girls gasp aloud. “Daddy’s favourite movie, the Little Mermaid!” 

“It’s not my favourite movie. That movie is my enemy. It makes all my babies cry.” Even Dove ends up in tears, though she usually cries when Ariel’s upset, rather than during Part of That World like her sisters do. 

“It makes you cry,” Beth says. 

“Beth, do we have a problem?” he asks. “Are you trying to get into a fight with me?” 

Beth grins and runs across the rug to climb up on the couch where Steve’s being submerged. She sits down by Doves’s feet, wrapping her arms around Dove’s little tummy, squishing herself to Steve’s side. “No, dad. I love you.” 

“I don’t believe you. I think you know you’ll lose if we wrestle.” 

You snort. Steve steals a glance at you between all the little arms, your hip pressed to the TV stand, your lip between your teeth as you click the wrong button. It’s not like you’re stupid, just the TV is old, and half the buttons don’t do what it is they say they do anymore. Your nose wrinkles and you backtrack, and Steve wishes he was standing right there to smooth it over with his thumb. After a few seconds of searching (and harassment on his end, Dove’s fingers dangerously close to his ear) you click the right thing and the tape that the girls were watching before dinner pops out. 

You smile to yourself at a job well done. Steve smiles at you, though you don’t see him doing it. 

“Your moms kinda pretty, huh?” he asks Avery. 

“Not kinda, super.” 

“How’s the baby?” you ask. 

Steve gives the baby monitor on the table by the couch a tap with his finger to make sure it’s still on. Feedback whines. “She’s hasn’t made a peep since your shower, honey.” 

“Maybe I’ll go see if she’s okay before the movie comes on. Miss the previews.” 

He can’t wait for you to sit down. “Okie dokie. Give her a kiss for me.” 

You raise your hand in scout’s honour. As you’re walking up the stairs, Avery shifts in Steve’s lap and asks, “You smile at mom all the time, does it make your cheeks hurt?” 

He sews a hand behind Beth’s back. “Nope. I have strong cheek muscles.” 

[majorproblems77]

LU Update! So welcome back to the analysis corner with me!

We have another LU update! Called Moving forward we see the heroes leave the town and make their way to the location that Sky found. With learning a little more about the team as a whole.

With 10 pages there's a lot of information to work through so I hope you are sitting comfortably

As always Linked universe (LU) belongs to @linkeduniverse and Jojo, I own none of the pictures I'm using and please give the original post some love. It's very well done and I love this comic so much.

You can find the comic here!

And as always there are spoilers abound for the most recent update!

Now sit back, grab some water and snacks and let's do this!

So before we get started im just gonna say that the brain cell is pinging around this lot so much that I'm bound to miss some stuff. But I shall try my best to get everything I wanna say said.

It was only some of you, captain, dont forget that.

(Oblatory look at my blorbo picture, he's so sweet. Blorbo blorbo blorbo)

Okay I'll behave this time

(No i won't)

I can understand the concern from the captain, as a captain from the army during a time of war secrets are dangerous. He's probably thinking if Twilight has concealed this what else has he concealed.

And then we get snarky wars again

I missed the snarky captain, he's wonderful.

Also the line about double duty, Come on captain, you know full well that patrol is an important part of a group dynamic like this.

This also confirms that the group have had encounters with monsters outside of what we've seen. As the line from wars about missing fights implies that they've fought a bunch of stuff. But we've only really seen wolfie in a fight back in the sunset arc.

Twilight fondly mentioning Midna, I'm so proud of him.

These two are the goddamn brothers ever and I love them dearly. Also, the knowledge we are about to be given about how this works is very exciting.

The brothers ever

All of them

Twilight thinking Wild had more than two brain cells. I love him. And the hug? The hug gives me life.

Also the captain, the captain is a point to talk about here. This feels like an accusatory sentence. The "You dont say?"

Me trying to figure out how time travel works in LU.

Legend, why are you so grumpy about this? Like he looks angry to hear this.

Four thinking about the implications of this sentence. I can literally hear the brain cell bouncing as it pings from hero to hero as they try to figure out this time travel thing.

Wind is a small bean as well look at him. The youngest I love the eyes.

Ahh, so thats the explanation. A spirit wolf that helped guide him on his journey which he trusted so much that he thought that the wolf he saw here was just another spirit until twi changed in front of him.

But this line from him is so sad. "Right after my resurrection" and "we both would have known the grave." This feels like as a person wild is at peace with it but doesn't want others to have to go through what he did. He's a chill dude and i love him for that to be honest.

Meanwhile, my blorbo Sky is out here trying to get actual work done. This is 10/10 the sksw dousing experience if you've not played it. You just swing the sword around while it pings at you until you eventually find what you are looking for.

Fi is trying her best.

Lads all of you need to remember that not all of you have had things that perform transformation magic. Im surprised (But also not surprised) That Time doesn't have anything to say about this. Like my man has used a tone of different transformation masks that change him into various different things and has one that turns him into a god.

The magic users ganging up on the non-magic users, like please behave.

Ahh Time, Time is the disappointed old man that has to coral a bunch of kids. And Wild is like the most kid of them all. (Tell me why I'd love to know! :D) (Which makes sense if we take LU to be at most a few months after the end of his game. Wild would be 18 at most.)

the sort of conversation you dont want to involve yourself in Time trust me on this one.

JUST SOME GUY WILD JUST DESTROYED TWILIGHT OKAY RIP

Feels bad for twi man he earned that title and to have it reduced to just some guy.

Wild is gonna get told off by Time if he ain't careful, that's his blood descendant right there and we all know he has a soft spot for him.

This is important, because I'm pretty sure most of them did at one point.

Another thing that appears to be a constant amongst the team is the need to conceal an identity. Either from them or them to others.

I'm not versed in all of their games so I can't go into full details but these guys ain't the only ones. Pretty much all of them have. The spirit of courage does love secrets, doesn't it?

Thats my blorbo and he's so sad help he

Blorbo blorbo blorbo

Give him a hug and reboot Fi and it'll be fine.

To echo the words of Time.

Curious.

Now this depends on what exactly Sky was dousing, was he dousing the portal, the helmet outside the portal? The postman even?

My money is on the helmet outside the portal, so that Dink came back into this timeline to retrieve it before leaving. But I may be incorrect on that account because Fi is able to track people as well as objects (Sksw would often have you tracking Zelda directly)

OHHHH

I was wondering how they were going to do it. But with Twilight able to track it they'll be able to use a combination of dousing and him sniffing out Dink's scent to be able to find him no matter where he might be.

It's so distinct, twilight you know by saying that you're gonna have some of these guys asking questions. Just wait for the next campfire story time it's gonna come up.

I can see Wind and Twilight having a conversation like this.

"What does Dink smell like?" "What?" "You heard me."

Oh he's so excited look at him!

Oh four.

I wonder if we are gonna have a four and Twilight conversation about this, with four's past he's understandably worried about the use of dark magic in one of his friends.

Oh come on legend lighten up, the child has never seen something like this before.

I'm glad Hyrule is coming in for his defence and all but 5 minutes ago Hyrule you were with Legend and saying to Wild that there's a load of items that do it.

Why is wind just so wonderful?

Look at him go!

Thats gotta be Wind, He's been so excited about this I can't see it being anyone else.

Bark Bark!

Wolfie beloved.

Im here for more brotherly content from the team, they are wonderful.

Now lets go find us a Lizard, or iron knuckle or whatever he transforms into next.

And thats all from me! I loved this update and there was so much to unpack I know I've missed stuff! But I hope you enjoyed it! :)

(Also apologies for spelling mistakes I'm sick rn but wanted to get this done)

Have a great day!

[whoslaurapalmer]

twin peaks but it happens in 2010. laura palmer have iphone etc etc

this ask has been haunting me since i saw it last night oh my god okay okay so

i wanted to lead with laura being an influencer but no one was quite influencing in 2010 yet. but the point here being that i think she posts a lot online and cultivates her online image very carefully (very soft, carefree, excited teenager) and has a LOT of followers on everything and always gets a ton of likes. bc it's laura, she's so beautiful and special and popular, of course everyone is following her, of course everyone is liking all her posts to get a piece of her

she has a twitter (laurapalmer93) where she posts a lot of pictures with little captions like.......'morning donuts at the diner!!' with a picture of the donuts and a milkshake or a Coffee To Be An Adult, 'can you believe this guy? <3' with a picture of bobby making a face (or even.........dare i say it...........doing the dougie), a picture of donna and james with '<33333333' (modern emojis were just getting really big then but i myself was not a big emoji user in 2010 yet, so neither is laura), 'don't tell ;)' with a picture of her holding a cigarette (of course everyone still smokes in the high school bathrooms).

one time she gets away with posting the lyrics to if i die young by the band perry (IF I DIE YOUNG! BURY ME IN SATIN! LAY ME DOWN ON A BED OF ROSES!) (FUNNY WHEN YOU'RE DEAD HOW PEOPLE START LISTENING!) bc it's a popular song. it raises a few eyebrows but it's a song and it's laura. how seriously do you take teen angst, even among your friends? that's just what laura does. what's there to really worry about, huh? (the song was released in may 2010 but let's say the lead up to her death is in 2010)

on facebook she posts a lot of volunteer stuff. school dance photos, which she helps organize. buy some cookies to support the french club!! she's very involved with student council, and she organizes the group halloween costume. her facebook is filled with photos of her with other people, but not really any of just her. she doesn't post a lot of statuses, but they're usually about homework or tests or 'feels like summer!' towards the end of the school year. she's friends with her parents. she definitely takes ap classes.

she has a private vent twitter (lostinthewoods) with zero followers that she uses as a diary bc she thinks it'll be safer than having it physically written down. her childhood lisa frank diary with the tiny lock and glitter gel pens that she kept in her bed post went missing, after all. her vent twitter is filled with sooooooo many tweets bc this was still the 160 character limit days and she would just post and post and post especially late at night. (she definitely has string lights in her room.) she is a MASTER of using her phone with no one seeing -- she has the layout absolutely memorized. she was only caught texting in class once and of course the teacher let it go.

bob/leland finds her passwords and breaks into the vent twitter and leaves her horrifying tweets she sees later, instead of the back and forth they have in the diary and leland ripping the pages out.

i think she has a third twitter, for sex, but i'm not sure if that tracks for the time period? (snapchat wasn't a thing until fall 2011.) or like a forum sort of thing? i think it's still super easy for laura to sneak out, even in an increased security camera world. there's still a lot of stress on the, yknow, ~secret unexposed underbelly of the world especially in a time of more eyes on everything~ in the 2010s.

meanwhile, james posts music a lot on facebook, and also acoustic covers of songs. like. yknow. HEY SOUL SISTER. donna loves the original pusheen stickers. they record the picnic video on her flip video camera. mike loves icanhascheezburger, and he jailbreaks his phone. audrey gets really into audrey hepburn quote posting, Aesthetic France, black and white photos, berets, has a photography phase and carries and actual camera bc it's Vintage. she's an early tumblr user. no one else in school has a tumblr yet, so she feels very cool but also very lonely about it.

harry has very little understanding of social media, however cooper is very into all social media, he finds it delightful. he enjoys a good cat video. he looks through all of laura's photos, her tweets, facebook videos, and i think there's, honestly even more of a feeling of tragedy bc of how much more physical evidence there is available of laura's life, lingering fingerprints, last tweets, last posts, passwords to put in and information to see, cold blue computer light, the even worse voyeurism in people expecting so much of your life to be online, in watching it play out online, in the image laura created for herself online to be the person people expected

donna rereads laura's twitter in the dead of night, just over and over again. goes back through their texts. so much of grief has become so much more public with social media and using it as a teenager, and there's this back and forth in donna of not posting anything and then posting the most miserable statuses about losing her best friend.

i know i should get deeper into the investigation but i keep thinking instead of how laura definitely gets a 20/20 special. it's probably definitely called 'the secret life of the american teenager.' (bc there was that show on at the time with the same name) elizabeth vargas visits twin peaks, is appropriately grim, there's a lot of b roll of the town and the woods but without the grace of twin peaks' cinematography. they play up the creation of a narrative big, as they always do on 20/20. the revelation of her 'double life' is at the halfway mark and simultaneously not discussed enough and overestimated. 'laura palmer was your average, everyday teenager -- she liked horses. cats. she got good grades, was homecoming queen, had a boyfriend on the football team. she volunteered on weekends. she had her whole life ahead of her. or was there more to the story than anyone knew? was there a dark side to the all-american girl?' oh, it's agonizing. the trailers play up a lot of potential spooky woods stuff that isn't followed through on in the actual episode.

now 20/20 prides itself on getting the story right, so i feel like it's.........i feel like they have to say it's leland at the end (and they definitely never get into anything about bob). but i also think, for some reason, it could easily have a 'we never found the killer' ending. especially re: s3........the thing is, i feel like laura's death particularly is the kind of thing that shows up on 20/20, but the rest of the circumstances would've ended up on like the unsolved mysteries website (the last revival ended in 2010, before the netflix reboot in 2019) (especially with WELL OUR FBI AGENT WENT MISSING). and there's so much online to put together in a website about it, there's so much for people online to dig into who have never even been to twin peaks, to think they know a town and the people in it and the girl who died even if it's just literally THE MOST DISGUSTING VOYEURISM IN THE WHOLE WORLD i just think there's such a. horror in that. people have the most, just, enraging takes when they get involved in a Murder That Happened Somewhere Else. people thinking they alone can figure out a mystery they've never seen, they can of course see something no one else has. and it's different than the people in the town ignoring it -- i think a lot of the secrets in twin peaks stay the same, no matter the time period, so of course it's still, a terrible dying town killing the people in it, maybe even quieter than it is in the original, some new infrastructure but old buildings, not all of them occupied anymore, ANYWAY -- like of course yes people in the town ignore the same amount they did in the original, all small towns bury things. but just bc the town itself isn't paying attention doesn't mean that some rando online is going to know more, no matter how much they think they will. there's like an entitlement to details of a murder, an I Must Be The Hero, The Savior, bc i'm on a fucking reddit thread about it

now i have zero (0) idea of how medical science and forensics work, but i have to assume there have been some advancements in the field between 1989/1990 and 2010/2011. the town still rushes the funeral, but would albert have been able to find anything else sooner? what is it he would have found to point to leland sooner? oh........dna testing, maybe? would he be able to find out about leland right away? there's more of a sense of urgency, maybe less of a slowness between events, even more of a shattering horror. maybe leland goes missing in an attempt to cover things up. hmmmmmm.

final note -- cooper gets called mulder as a nickname bc the x files happened as a show in this universe.

[cinnamonest]

OMG I MISSED YOUR WRITINGS ON SCARAMOUCHE SO MUCH!!

Please I need the version with camgirl reader x incel Scaramouche 🛐

And I hope you are well !!! <3

The way I was gonna make this a fairly simple post and then I got carried away and now it's 9k words WHOOPS

Anyway YES anon, I am on the slut girl x virgin boy agenda... although since I already have a camgirl, this time I went with like an onlyf*ns/e-girl darling + college AU >:3

//noncon, cyberstalking, blackmail, harassment, misogyny, sadism, nipple/ass stuff, revenge porn/leaking, darling is portrayed as being feminine + implied to have a bf

---

You tell yourself it's just to get you through college.

That's how you convinced yourself to start the account — regular camming requires a schedule and streaming and all that, which you'd rather not do, whereas the other outlets let you sell subscriptions for photos and videos, and there was a decent market out there, so you took your best shot, did some work to advertise yourself on mainstream social sites, and hey, it worked. You soon find yourself with a steady stream of income, and all you have to do is masturbate on camera and take a few posed photos of your body.

A few years of some extra income, and then you'll be done, get a better job, and you can delete the account and scrub the internet clean of any trace of the matter. Maybe some guy out there will keep some of the photos, but it can't be that bad.

This way, you can focus on your academics, which a regular part-time job would be too time-consuming for. You don’t have to worry about scheduling classes around a work schedule, either, which allows you to be more choosy on your class schedule, ensuring you get the later classes and don’t have to wake up early each day.

Except one, where you had no choice but to take the early class, as the other sections filled up fast. It’s one of those required tech-involved ones, you just picked from the list at random — one of those big classes with hundreds of people in a huge auditorium, any degree of personalism drowned by the sheer number of people. It’s a male-dominated subject field, and the body of attending students when you walk in clearly reflects that, so you just sit down in the very back at the first unclaimed seat you can find, pausing to say good morning to the boy next to you, who only briefly looks your way in acknowledgement.

The professor goes over the generic first-day material — that yes, you need the expensive textbook, that yes, he will check attendance, and no, he will not give you extra credit at the last minute at the end of the semester, so on and so on… and—

—you’ll be working with the person next to you for the rest of the semester.

Even-numbered seats, the person to your immediate left, odd-numbered seats, to your immediate right. You turn and smile at the guy you’re thus assigned to, the same one you spoke to a few moments ago — once again, he just glances over at you and nods with some vague acknowledgement and then resumes doing what he’s been doing since the professor started, which is scrolling on his phone beneath the desk, only half-paying attention. That does not bode well for your predictions of how equally-yoked you’ll be in your work ethic… but no big deal.

It's one of those classes with a midterm and final project that you work on throughout the semester, rather than tests… which, hey, that could be fun, you tell yourself. You think you can get along. He doesn’t seem to care about what's going on around him much, which is not exactly good, but isn’t bad.

That dopey, happy demeanor… so obnoxious… ugh, you’ve got a notebook (an aesthetic, pretty one at that), and you're pulling it out on the first day of class? For what?

Except you aren’t reading him all that well at all. Unbeknownst to you, his eyes shift over to you and your activities throughout the class. And the reality is he very much does care.

That is, from the very second he lays eyes on you, you irritate him.

Then you write the class and your name at the top of the page all cutesy and artsy-looking, and then— God, now you're pulling out the multiple colors of highlighters and pens. Is that— is that one of those sparkly gel pens? Oh, it is. You’re making a little header with today’s date for your notes with it. Just kill him now. This is practically psychological torture.

Thus, while from your perspective, it feels like he barely pays you a second thought, in reality the rest of the period for him is spent just stewing in a stream of bitter, jaded thoughts.

Look at you with your… girl clothes and girl pens and girl notebook… you probably think you're so cute, spending money on dumb stuff like that… and smiling like an idiot. What are you so happy for. Why are you even taking this class when you'll just be bad at it. Why are you dressed like you put effort into it. Just pick up one of the sweatshirts laying on your bedroom floor like a reasonable person. And why do you smell so nice too.

He mulls over the negativity for the remainder of the class period, totally zoned out until people start packing up, which is the cue to leave.

Except you stop him before he can make a quick exit, holding out your phone, open to a new entry in your contacts.

Ah, since we'll need to work on the project, I can text you…

Right. That. Ugh.

The awkward discomfort of standing there and entering a name and number while you stand there with that dumb little nervous smile is only made more upsetting by the bitter realization that this will mark the first time he's ever had his number in a girl's phone before. Great, now he's going to be depressed for the rest of the day, and it's your fault.

You say thanks and smile again and your hands brush against his when you take your phone back and it makes him physically flinch in recoil — and you definitely noticed it, you mumble a little ah, sorry as if you're trying to make it even more awkward, now he's got to live with the humiliation of that too, and it's still your fault. Clearly, you are going to be nothing but a source of frustration.

And even once he's moped all the way back to the the comfort of his nice, dark apartment, he still can't escape your torment — no sooner does he flop down into bed than his phone goes off…

>Hi! Just wanted to make sure you can save my number too!

You add the little smiling emoji. It makes his eye twitch.

Trying to act all nice and sweet as if you're not only being pleasant because you're forced to work together. He knows full well you'd be all bitchy and demanding and hypersensitive in any other context, and probably all snobbish too, probably would barely pay him any mind.

Even if you are genuinely sweet, that in and of itself is still basically torturing him. Because what’s the point in you being sweet if you’re not going to give him anything more than that? With that in mind, even your niceness is just a cruel tease.

And why would you even be so happy to begin with? Doesn't being a girl suck? If he was something so weak and inferior and unintelligent, he'd be even more miserable about life, and that's really saying something. Maybe it's one of those things where you're so dumb that you lack self-awareness, so you can live a life of ignorant bliss... at the same time, the notion that you’re unaware of how inferior you are is equally frustrating. You should know, that knowledge should weigh on your mind all the time.

The frustration makes his chest feel tight, makes him grind his teeth… naturally, he has to get it out somehow, and there's a very convenient means to do so.

The imageboards he frequents almost always have a “leaked images” thread up and running, communities where they post e-girls’ nudes and revenge porn. The wrongness of it, of course, is the appeal.

Besides, they all deserve it. Some are images originally sent to boyfriends, posted as an act of revenge after cheating or dumping the guy (so it's deserved, really), others are leaked videos and photos from various pay-to-view networks and websites (also deserved, for being a whore), and finally some are just creepshots in public places (deserved once more, for dressing that way).

And the endless amount of the content and surprisingly good tagging system means that one can find any sort of content, and for the leaked porn accounts, it includes the girl's username and links to more of her, so you can see more of the same girl.

Like with this one, that just so happens to catch his eye. There's a whole page where some guy has paid for every single photo this girl has made, and put it out there for everyone to see for free. It's solo stuff, too, which is preferred — seeing couples making videos together, thereby watching the girl love on some guy, is depressing — and getting off to it is much more satisfying than any of the other girls on this thread, considering she looks like you.

…A lot, actually.

He's already memorized your annoying, pretty little face. The title of the video has the words “college girl” in it, too. Adds to the immersion, can feel like it’s really you, degrading yourself like that… of course, when it’s over, he has to deal with the reality that it isn’t, but the momentary pretending is cathartic.

And sure enough, as the first week passes, you quickly prove just as irritating as he initially suspected. You smile at him and talk to him every class, for some unknown, malicious ulterior motive. Are you trying to be belittling? Or are you trying to make him like you so that he'll do favors for you? Or is it for your own amusement?

Either way, the obvious deceit of it all is sickening. It's a commonly known female behavior. You try to come across as so sweet when in reality it's all an act, and you have some horrible reason for it. He just doesn't know what the reason is in your case yet. It would be better to be a bad person outright — the slimy underhanded fakeness of it all is what makes that type of evil so contemptible.

You, though, you’re just a bit puzzled. Normally, being nice to people works well… but this guy keeps sort of glaring at you… maybe that’s just how his face naturally is? But then, he also doesn’t talk very nice either. Not particularly mean, per se, but you can sort of sense an irritation, like you’ve done something wrong… you try to make the best of it, tell yourself you’re just imagining it. Besides, if he really didn’t like you, he wouldn’t respond when you talk to him, or would sit elsewhere, right? It’s not like you have to maintain the same seats all semester, as long as you work on the required material outside of class. So, you tell yourself, he must just be one of those people that naturally has that demeanor.

You’re not nearly as aware of it, but he makes his own observations of you too. You don’t check your phone nearly as much as he does, but every now and then, you look at something or another, and he always makes sure to subtly turn his eyes to see… it’s usually something stupid, like texts from friends, or worse, what appears to be a boyfriend, some male name you text often.

The first time you’re forced to meet outside of class, at the library per your suggestion — a very awkward interaction, but you seem to be fairly unbothered — you take a moment to check it when it vibrates. You’re sitting at an angle that makes it difficult for him to see without moving in a way that would catch your attention, but by pretending to take a swig of whatever can of liquid caffeine he has today (you had the audacity to comment how unhealthy it is), that he can tilt his head enough just to barely make out your screen without being noticed.

Your phone is open to an email.

The words flash across the screen for just a split second before you turn the screen off, but that one second is enough to make out the top of the screen. Enough time for the ‘hello, (username),’ preface to the email right beneath a very familiar blue logo to register with his brain.

He nearly chokes.

It takes every ounce of willpower to even try to hide the natural reaction — his eyes widen, he goes tense, he has to turn his torso away and pretend to fish something out of his cluttered bottomless void of a backpack whilst trying to refrain from coughing.

But then again, you put the phone away so quickly once you saw what it was… and the video from the other day…?

No. That can't be right.

There's no way. There's no way, there's no way, there's no way.

He can’t get back to his own place fast enough. Dropping the keys trying to unlock the door out of excitement, immediately whipping out his own phone, and he’s on the bookmarks tab before he can even sit down. Back to the leaks site, scrolling down to the tags where they put the girl’s username.

You’re wholly unbothered, going right back to talking to him in that overly-sweet tone, so nice, so frustrating, so torturous. You’re saying something. He has to get you to repeat yourself… no, it was just some pointless question about the homework.

To hell with that, that’s not even remotely important anymore… but he can’t voice that thought out loud, so he’s forced to tolerate the torment of waiting out the rest of your meeting until you finally say you’ll have to keep working later.

The usernames match. The one in your email was the exact same as the one now on the screen.

…

It's one of those moments where what's in front of him is so surreal, he's left so stunned, that he just sits there for a second, completely still, blinking and taking it in. Something that's too perfect to be real. This can't be actually happening, he's mistaken.

And thus he's just left perfectly still, a stupor of disbelief, sitting there in the darkness of the room with only the harsh light of phone screen shining up on his face as it slowly sinks in. It takes a minute — this is just the sort of thing that doesn't happen, it's far too perfect, he has to convince himself it isn't a dream.

And once it registers as reality, it feels exhilarating.

For one, it proves every suspicion right. He really did have a valid reason to be distrusting of your innocent girl act. To think, this whole time you were trying to fool him into believing you were good.

But all along, you were whoring out online, and basically, the fact that you're not upfront about that to someone you barely know is the same as outright lying about it.

Up until this point, life has just been so boring, so disappointing, just going through day to day… even college was just a thing to do because it's what everyone else does. But now? Now he has something exciting. A sudden sense of something meaningful, even if only as an outlet for pure, unadulterated malice.

As for you, well, you get a… well, a follower, but certainly not a fan.

The boy is a world-class hater. It's not passive hating, it's active hating. There is actual effort being put in here, and a lot of it at that.

In terms of the content itself, it's nothing you haven't seen before — some guy leaving comments and DMs calling you a whore and a slut and every nasty name one can conjure, saying you've ruined any hopes of a relationship by doing this, why would anyone ever date you when they can see you naked for a few bucks, telling you to get a real job, blah blah… fairly generic. A lot of the verbiage is certainly non-original, and more or less recycled, specific choices of words and phrases and lingo you know you’ve seen before in those pockets of the internet where certain types of men congregate.

But the sheer dedication to it is what catches you off guard. You're pretty sure this guy is more dedicated to harassing you than you are to the job itself. There's messages from all hours of the day, and you're certain after a short time that he makes multiple accounts for the sole purpose of harassing you. Not to mention he follows or adds you on everything — all the socials you've linked (you keep several associated to your account to lure in horny guys from mainstream sites), adds you on discord and any other messaging app you have (and you have no way of knowing which users are legitimate or if it's him, so you have to add them back and wait to find out each time). One of which you didn't even have listed on your page, so you realize he would have had to go through various apps and search the multiple variations of your username you use until finding you.

Telling him to fuck off accomplishes nothing, in fact he seems to derive great satisfaction from making you upset about it. Tells you that you should be glad — you wanted male attention, right? You wouldn't be posting yourself getting off and flashing your tits on camera for the world to see if you didn't, slut. He adds that insult to just about everything he says to you.

Blocking him only leads to him making new accounts (and then mocking you for trying to block him). You even reached out to a customer support team on one of your social media apps and got him permanently IP banned, which he then immediately circumvented in less than a few hours, making sure to inform you that changing one's IP is so easy and you're so dumb for thinking that would do anything.

But why you, specifically? Why decide to torment you out of every other girl doing this stuff? You don't know. You never asked for this. You never did anything wrong to anyone. You even scrolled back on your social accounts to see if you ever said anything someone could take offensively or had a negative interaction with someone, but found nothing. There's nothing to explain why this one man in particular has decided to come after you specifically, nothing you can think of at least. It feels like the universe just hates you.

It's actually kinda sad. You almost feel bad for this guy, who apparently has so much time to spare and nothing better to do than harass the same girl on the internet day in and day out. You did once shoot back a reply of don’t you have anything better to do?, which actually did make him stop… for about ten hours or so, then it was right back to it.

It's deserved, though, he thinks. E-girls are reprehensible. Taking advantage of guys’ loneliness for money.

Infuriating that you advertise something that he— well, that most guys want so bad, but don't actually give the real thing, only a simulation of it. Make them drool over you, while you hide behind the safety of the screen, far away from what those guys would do to you if they could get their hands on you.

And you know that too, don't you? You know how defenseless you are, know how much danger you'd be in if you teased without putting out like that to a guy in real life, and you do it anyway knowing you're untouchable, you must be so smug about it. Infuriating.

He's not like those simps of yours though, he finds you too morally reprehensible to be drawn to the curves of your body and the parts of you that you post and the sounds you make and how easy it is to imagine the softness of your skin and the way you feel and your warmth and the way you look directly into the camera as you moan and it feels like eye contact—

Anyway, he has standards. And self-respect.

Besides, he knows from stalking your social accounts — including your real ones with your real identity attached, separate from the others — that you have something like a boyfriend. Some guy who shows up in your pictures a lot. What a pathetic idiot. Who lets their girlfriend do this sort of thing? Even disregarding that, does this guy not know you’re meeting with him for your project too? He would never allow you to do something like that, were it him in that position. You must go after spineless guys who will let you walk all over them or something, and would only even accept boyfriends that allow you to do what you do.

That’s why, see, he would never accept something like that. Sure, there would be positives, like getting to see that sweet annoying smile and hear your happy obnoxious precious voice each and every day, and getting to touch you and be around you all the time, and you probably do really nice things for the person you’re with too, and he could always just force you to delete the accounts and never post yourself online again— but, whatever.

Point is, he’s better than stooping so low. He’ll keep living a respectable life, just like he does now — so he thinks as the phone alarm goes off, one of many set reminders to go send you more messages.

It's an awkward relationship, but you're pretty sure he doesn't hate you or anything, which is good. He's hard to read — he seems perpetually either bored or irritated, always slouched over, always maintaining that ‘I really wish I weren't here right now’ tone of voice, lots of heavy sighs or tsks scattered into his speech. Even when you agree to meet at the library to work on the homework and midterm project, he quickly establishes a pattern of being at least ten to fifteen minutes late (without any acknowledgement or apology at that), and frankly, you do the vast majority of the actual work, he just slaps his name on the corner next to yours once it's done.

The torment detracts from your sleep. You're late to your class more than once, trying to sneak in unnoticed by the professor and mumbling apologies to the students you have to slip by to get to your seat. Your partner doesn't seem to care much, at least — he just lazily glances over at you with a flat expression, then goes back to scrolling (he doesn't need to take notes, you'll just send him yours anyway).

He does step in to help when it's too difficult, you can't solve the problem yourself… which is how you realize that, in spite of being remarkably low-effort, he actually does understand the material, much better than you do at that. It's a bit embarrassing, since he makes it out to be so simple, but at least it somewhat compensates for all the work you do.

He's not particularly mean about it, he's just… not nice. The tone and choice of words tends to be not-so-subtly making you out to be dumb for not getting it, or that it's easy, or otherwise belittling.

…You really don't get that one? It's the exact same thing as the last one.

You give a sheepish smile and rub the back of your head.

Aha… sorry…

But it gets done, and that's what matters. You just walk away from each meeting feeling like an idiot, which isn't exactly a great feeling.

But even though you initially felt like the guy didn’t care for you, you quickly notice that he’s started to walk all the way back to your place after your meetings while you talk. You supposed he wouldn’t do that if he didn’t at least somewhat enjoy your company.

And you do try to make conversation. You ask about what other classes he takes…only to learn that he doesn't go to any other classes, since this is the only one where attending is required. He did the math, and he just has to do good on the finals for the other classes to pass, no need to show up for the tests and quizzes and lectures and stuff… and he did research into the professors to find ones where past students confirm they recycle the exact same tests and the past ones are posted online, and he's already got a good cheating method that's only been caught once in all the years he's used it… so there's no point in showing up, he says.

It's a very different mentality than yours, but you try to smile and refrain from saying anything negative. And you try interests and social life as topics, but quickly glean from what little he says that the guy has none of the latter and more or less just a phone and gaming addiction for the former.

Which you have no trouble believing, because good God, does the boy have a totally fried attention span. Even in your meetings, you swear he can't go five minutes without staring at his phone.

Oh, you like that too…?

That does end up helping you find a means to try and get closer. You manage to find one opening, something flash across the screen for some upcoming game. One you've been looking forward to as well.

Huh? You can’t like that thing. He likes that thing. It's not for females. It’s for people with good taste… it’s good… you can’t… someone like you would never be able to properly appreciate it… and now you’re just babbling away with that dumb smile while he’s going through a psychological crisis and rethinking every choice in life because of you. Does this put you two on the same intellectual level...? No, of course not, he has to quickly shake off any such doubts.

You were hoping to get a positive reaction, but you get silent bewilderment in his expression at first, for just a second.

Still, you’re supposed to be boring and a normie… you can’t just suddenly shatter the image of you he’s already constructed… and from the way you're talking about it, you know too much to just be pretending to like something for attention (which is the obvious automatic assumption for when females like media that's actually good and worth consuming).

Devastating. Now he has to consider the possibility that you do have interests and a personality besides being deceitfully sweet and whoring online.

But from your perspective, he just crosses his arms and shrugs.

Kind of, I guess.

And God, then you smile at him again. Every time you do that, it gives him some godawful tight-chested feeling, like you’re trying to kill him with psychic damage.

What gives you the right to be so happy right now anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be in constant distress, now? Is he not doing good enough of a job at tormenting you? You seemed upset, but clearly not upset enough, if you’re still emotionally stable enough to be nice to him. He has to break you, make you too distraught to even go on.

Online, you’re so mean, you never have anything nice to say, even though he’s not that mean to you — well, he could be worse, at least, which is basically the same thing.

Actually, he decides, how you behave in real life will be a good standard of how good he’s doing at making your life miserable. Once it starts to noticeably affect you even in real life, that means it’s sufficient.

But you prove resilient. Each day, you seem to get up, summon some resolve to still enjoy your life, and are still pleasant and friendly… or maybe you’re just really good at acting. Yes, obviously that’s it, since your whole sweetness thing is just an act in the first place.

On your end, the harassment gets worse. It comes in all hours of the day — does this guy not sleep? It’s almost hard to believe someone hates you this much, or even has the energy to keep this up… you start trying to just ignore it.

You tried threatening to report the guy for harassment, but he points out that he hasn’t threatened you with any real harm, and only targeted your public accounts, so no laws broken… and he’s already prepared by taking measures to— well, you don’t understand the spew of lingo that follows, but you gather that the jist is that it would be very difficult to trace him.

So you start to ignore it. You try your best to just not let it get to you, let the comments and messages go without acknowledgement or response. It’s actually somewhat relieving, if you just pretend it doesn’t exist. At first, when you start ignoring him, the messages get more frequent.

But then, it goes quiet for a day. Just around twenty-four hours, you don't get messages, nor comments.

It should make you feel relieved, you think, but it doesn't. Quite the opposite — you feel uneasy. Like something will happen.

He's getting bored, you see. You don't react as strongly anymore as you used to. You used to get so upset at all the messages he sent, and it was so fun to watch how you'd get all defensive and angry in your replies.

Then your replies got shorter, and now— what gives your the right to ignore him? It infuriates him. Dumb whore, treating him like you think you're so much better… or, the gut-wrenching thought passes through his mind, maybe you're busy, you’re probably visiting the guys you sleep around with, since someone like you could never be loyal to that boyfriend he's certain you have.

The only option is to progress things further. He has to think about that. He didn't really have a plan on where to go from here, but now he's started to think about the bigger picture, what he wants in the long term… and that's not going to go over well for you.

It takes some work and digging on his end, but it's worth it.

It's around three in the morning when your phone goes off. It just barely manages to wake you up. You think to yourself that you should remember to turn off the notifications for messaging apps… but for now, you sit up, groggily unlocking your phone. Seeing who the message is from, though, snaps you into full alertness.

A message that makes you go stiff, staring at your phone wide-eyed and slack-jawed, a cold knot of dread forming in your gut that quickly turns to an electrifying surge of pure panic as you read.

The name of your academic institution. The names, emails and phone numbers of your immediate family members. Your full, real name — and your address, down to the unit number.

Your heart sinks into your stomach. The glaring light hurts your tired eyes, but you can't look away.

You know he's just waiting on a response. Probably knows you're panicking, but knows you have no choice but to comply — and you're forced to give him the satisfaction of seeing you type back.

>What do you want from me?

It's only a few seconds before you get a reply.

>From now on, do what I want

>Or I ruin your life.

You hesitate a while before responding. Poor you, you must be so scared now that you're finally getting what you deserve. And even then, you just send back a ‘fine,’ even though it took you so long to respond. You were probably trying to think of how to respond, probably typed out longer potential replies, but decided on that to seem tough or something. That's actually almost endearing.

And oh, it's so, so satisfying to finally see you crumble, even if just a bit, the next day. For you to come shuffling into class for once with a downtrodden, nervous expression, making your way over to your spot without the usual greeting.

…Except that's also irritating. What makes you think you can just not say hello, now that you've established a routine of doing so every day of this class? For all you know, he's just the person you know in real life, so you're basically willingly choosing to potentially disappoint him. Not that you are disappointing him, but like, if he actually cared about your dumb little daily greeting, then he would be. He even gives you several extra seconds, and you still don't do it.

You're still fidgeting nervously, lost in thought when the mumbling directed at you pulls you out of your thoughts.

…Something wrong with you?

You seem to realize your sullen energy and attempt to fix it with a twitching, obviously forced smile.

O-oh, no, I'm just tired, haha… good morning!

He doesn't say anything back, just turns back to phone-scrolling as usual. You realize your melancholy must be showing on your face.

You're being overdramatic, too, he thinks. He didn't even give you any demands yet, since he decided it would be more fun to make you wait in suspense for a few hours or so. Seeing you squirm is funny, but really, you're acting like it's so much worse than it is. What a weakling, so sensitive.

It's just gonna be stuff you're used to anyway…

Which is somewhat true. You're used to the demand for private, custom content.

Men pay you sometimes incredible amounts of money for the stuff. Usually, the customization is about personalization — sometimes it's kind of sad, wanting you to say their name or that you love them while you look at the camera, and sometimes it's just more niche fetish stuff, like pictures of your feet or wearing a weird costume.

But everything this mystery man wants is different — the personalization has to do with the fact that it's painful, humiliating, or both. Moreover, he's never content with the first try.

Stuffing your holes with toys and sitting down on them so they go all the way in, specifically, ‘as many as you can fit’ — but even after the painful effort of getting one in each hole—

>That's not enough.

You can fit at least one more somewhere. And you're intentionally using the smaller toys, aren't you? You won't be able to do that next time, so don't try that again.

Then there's the command to get those clamps on your nipples you used in a video of yours a long time ago, the ones connected to each other by a chain, and to tighten them then pull hard enough for them to come off. You have to take a few deep breaths to summon the ability to do it, and even then, it takes a few tugs to get them to come off. By the time they do, your nipples are swollen and red and your eyes are watery from the sting, but nonetheless, a message comes through within a minute of sending the video.

>You didn't tighten them all the way first.

>Do it over.

Or the one to deep throat that one huge toy you have, the one you used in this one video a long time ago — which you now regret ever posting, since there's a reason that you never used that monstrosity again, much less in your throat. At first you're not even sure you can fit it into your mouth, but you force it somehow.

On and on the demands come. He's not paying for any of it, of course, but the premise is the same.

Still, it's not enough. Come on, you didn't even get it very far in, you have to at least get half down your throat. And you didn't hold the phone close enough, can't hear your gagging choking sounds.

>Do it again.

The timing is often terrible, shortly before or after your classes, or odd hours of the night, forcing you to stop whatever you're doing to meet the demand. Thankfully, though, at least you've never gotten a message from him during your meetups with your class partner — you're certain your distress would show on your face, and it would be hard to come up with an excuse for it.

It becomes such routine, and all happens so quickly, it feels surreal, like you're just forced to accept it and go with it. There’s no time to really process it, as you have to get back to doing your school work and going to class and trying to keep up with your regular video content, it's all so overwhelming, yet so simple, you just have to do what you have to do.

One moment you're slapping yourself in the face while you bounce up and down on a toy so long that it bruises your insides for some jerk that's blackmailing you, and running to class the next, desperately trying to rub at the marks on your face to make them go away.

You're worried that the stress is beginning to show. Your most recent quiz scores are lower than usual, you're getting less sleep. Your insides are always sore. You're paranoid and uneasy, and you know it has to be somewhat evident.

Some of the individual demands have lasting consequences, too. Once you were commanded to choke yourself with a belt on camera, specifically until it left bruises… which you begged and protested against because you had one of your class partner meet-ups scheduled for later the same day, but your tormentor said he didn't care and insisted, so you did it, forcing yourself to go through it… and sending an additional picture at the end just to show the purplish marks in detail, up close.

It wasn't the end of the world for your meeting though — the weather wasn't right for it, but you found something that covered your neck up, at least, so the bruises didn't show. That much, at least, allows you to be at ease… although your classmate seems to be in a particularly bad mood that day.

On another occasion, you find yourself laying on your side, gasping and wincing trying to force one of the larger toys you have into your ass, all the way to the base as instructed, toes curling as you pump it back and forth, in and out… only to be told you weren't supposed to touch yourself while you did it, so, predictably, you have to do it again, the ring of muscle clenching down as it's stretched — and, of course, the act leaves a remnant sensation lasting the rest of the day. You have to rush it too, or you'll be late, due to the horrible timing of the command.

You manage to get to class, but when you move to sit, an ache of pain runs up your spine from your poor abused hole, and you wince, face grimacing at the pain.

It doesn't go unnoticed. The guy next to you, ever observant to everything except the professor, casts a lazy glance over to you, looks you up and down before asking what’s the matter, albeit in a half-caring, bored tone of voice…

You give the oh, nothing, I'm fine! response, stammer out something about hurting your leg yesterday, and he merely gives you an 'ah' of acknowledgement before turning his gaze back down… he rests his chin against his hand so that his mouth is covered up, but you swear, you can detect a slight grin from the shape of his eyes. You suppose it checks out that he'd find your clumsiness amusing, even if it's a lie.

On and on it goes. All the time. Day in, day out. It starts off as once per day, but then your tormentor starts piling smaller requests on top of those. Even beyond the daily video, you get increasingly frequent messages at all times of the day — to take a picture of your tits or ass, or a short video of you fingering yourself, or some sort of angle or pose of your body, writing something on your skin, so on and so on.

He doesn't accept any delays, either. You only get a few minutes to fulfill a demand before getting an impatient follow-up asking what the hold up is. Sleep isn't an excuse either, so you're told, so you have to start turning your phone on loud at night to wake you if need be.

You sense a growing impatience. The frequency increases still, as does the intensity of the content you're forced to make. It's as if it's building up to something — surely it has to reach a limit, or he has to get bored, or he'll ditch you and find a new outlet for his sadistic thrills, you hope. You just hope it ends in a way that's positive for you… but you're afraid of the opposite. What if even after all this, he just ruins your life anyway? It's a very real possibility, one you begin considering increasingly as you think over the whole situation.

The increasing severity and number of demands makes you feel like he's getting more upset, as if you're doing something that makes him mad, even though you have no idea what that could be.

You are right, though.

He's also noticed how much more frequently he gets the urge to demand something from you. How much more the itch has grown, the compulsive need to see you hurting and degrading yourself more and more. You've long since passed the point where he has more videos and photos of you all to himself than those available online — he's been counting — but it's still not enough.

And with the realizations that he's engaging with you more, he realizes that he's also thinking about you more.

No, “more” isn't quite accurate. All the time. Constantly. You never leave his head, everything else feels like a distraction.

And that's only more infuriating. He's very self-aware, realizes it's getting worse, realizes you essentially occupy his thoughts every waking second.

Even then, the distractions aren't working. At one point he realized he literally cannot stop himself from messaging you, it's a compulsion, a need, and the realization of his own lack of self-control regarding it is maddening. He actively tried, told himself to wait until the next day, but just couldn't. Even if he plays games or watches whatever brain-rotting media he tries to consume, his thoughts keep drifting to you. Hell, ever since latching onto you, he’s stopped harassing other random women online in general, and that was pretty much one of his biggest hobbies in the past.

What gives you the right? To get inside his head like that? Make him constantly distracted and wondering about what you're doing, forcing him to keep tabs on you? What makes you think you can just come into his life and control him like this, and think you'll get away with it? You've more or less taken advantage of an innocent person who did nothing wrong to you. Used your body to exploit his weaknesses and manipulate him into doing all this.

You don't get to do that. You have to be held accountable.

You're constantly making him worry about you, what you're doing, who you're talking to, and not knowing is a maddening feeling. It feels like nausea, a sick feeling that completely consumes the mind, rendering it incapable of doing or focusing on anything else, only cycling the same obsessive rage and worry and paranoia until it becomes unbearable.

But there's a way to get rid of that, and give you what you deserve, and get what you owe him all at the same time.

He waits, only another week or so — a frustrating week, but spent planning ahead and gathering necessary stuff — but finally, given the timing, you send a text he was hoping you'd send asking about meeting up again, to finish up the project as the end of the semester approaches.

You're a bit caught off-guard by the message, not to mention how quickly he replies.

>Come over here.

You hesitate, re-reading to try and ensure that you're understanding correctly, and finally ask for clarification that he means to his place.

He says yes. Something about how he's supposed to have something delivered that he'll have to sign, and so he has to be at the apartment when that happens, so, y'know, best for you to come over.

Which is nice.

It's just… odd.

Inviting you over, even if for a required activity, feels very out of line with the person you've come to know, however surface-level said knowing may be. Then again, maybe this is the guy's way of trying to be nice. Everyone expresses appreciation differently.

You're still thinking on it when he adds another text saying that his roommate will be there, preemptively apologizes for any disturbance that will cause… well, you figure if someone else is there, it can’t be anything sinister. That helps you make up your mind, so you agree. At this point, you know each other well enough to warrant trust.

…It’s still pretty awkward, though. The apartment is about like a picture you would expect to see uploaded to the internet as a joke about male living spaces. Borderline barren, barring the computer and the bare minimum furniture and appliances needed to survive, plus some clothes and empty cans and such strewn in various places across the floor, all dark lighting and void of color.

That being said, you quickly realize the apartment is only a studio, and there’s only one bed. The roommate doesn't exist.

And something just feels wrong, in a way you can’t articulate. Like your instincts are urging you to leave. You feel uneasy. Goosebumps spread across your skin. Are you just being paranoid…?

There is something else, though, that immediately catches your attention. You notice that the wall isn’t exposed, rather, most of the room is covered with a layer of some sort of paneling, lining the wall almost as thoroughly as wallpaper. You inquire what it is.

Soundproofing.

An unpleasant answer, but he wouldn’t be so upfront about it unless it was for harmless reasons. You refrain from inquiring about the other odd things you start to notice — locks on some cabinets despite seemingly living alone, a roll of tape sitting on the desk with no discernable purpose.

As awkward as the tension is, you really have no option but to sit on the bed, as its the only surface other than the floor. You try not to contemplate how often the average college-aged boy washes bedsheets.

It occurs to you, though, that right now would be the worst possible timing for a message from your unknown harasser, and you certainly can’t take any photos or videos here… thus, just as you sit down and begin to work, you pick up your phone from where you set yours next to his, and type out a quick message, basically pleading with the unknown man to leave you along for the next few hours, because, as you explain, you literally can’t do anything for the time being.

You read it over, and hit send.

And before you can even put the phone back down, there's a vibration a mere arms-length away from you, as the other phone in the room lights up.

And there, in the notification that pops up on the screen, are the very words you just sent.

…

…

There's a few seconds where nothing happens.

Both your heads naturally turn to the sound the moment it happens, but after that, it's just… still. You’re frozen still, he’s frozen still. Both your eyes go wide, and the quiet seconds pass, processing the information before you.

And then, he sighs, body relaxing, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, muttering as if met with some major inconvenience.

God, why do you have to make this more difficult.

Besides, he already turned the lock that locks you in from the inside, even though you probably weren’t aware of what it was, so you’re already trapped anyway. And you squeal, of course, predictably, but that’s what the soundproof panels are for.

He's not particularly worried like he would have been any other time — this was the plan now anyway, but you're throwing things off schedule. Yet another transgression to hold you accountable for.

You do try to run. You at least deserve that much credit. He was so close to considering you a genuine marvel of human evolution, with how nonfunctional your survival instincts seemed to be.

But you’re sitting with your legs folded, so, you don’t have the time required to stand any chance of hopping up and running. The moment your legs start to move to stand, he’s already got you by the arm.

You even seemed to process everything a bit quicker than he would have thought. Maybe you’re not that stupid after all, just… a little less.

You still are incredibly stupid though. He’s almost surprised you agreed to come. So naive, so dumb, so trusting.

And so loud. Squealing like a little animal caught by a predator — which, well, isn’t too far off, but it still hurts his ears.

Shut up, shut up, shut up…

You can hear the growling voice in your ear, even now that he has your face pressed into the mattress, arm latched around your waist. You’re squirming so hard too, but even fighting with all the strength you can summon, it feels like trying to push back a brick wall. He seems to notice as much as you do.

…Is that actually the best you can do?

Not the first time he’s said those words to you — though before, it was over text, mocking you into filling all those perverse desires. It feels far more biting now.

And it’s so, so, so satisfying to see you realize just how dumb you are, as you put everything together. To watch you slowly grasp everything, realize just how badly you’ve fucked up. He even flips you onto your back just to see your face go through all the stages of emotion. It’s hilarious, and adorable too. The confusion and betrayal and panic and anger.

Oh, you get so mad. It’s actually the best part. You’re practically snarling now, reaching up to try and claw at him, kicking, baring your teeth. Any traces of the sweet demeanor you once held is long gone as you lash out… and then, a purely and entirely euphoric transition to fear.

Aw. Poor thing. After you struggle so much, your breathing gets faster, the fury dissipates as your eyes well with tears. The demands to let you go turn to miserable little pleas.

Maybe you can go back and forth. Maybe if he taunts you again you’ll get angry once more, and then if he slaps you you’ll get meek and fearful again? That would be nice, to have reliable ways to switch your emotions around, as if controlling them with a button. There will be plenty of time to find out later.

But now he gets the opportunity to finally tell you how long you made him wait for this. Mocks you for how naive you were. Brings up specifics from all those videos you sent him. Did you think it would just be left at that? Did you really not realize it wouldn’t be enough? No, of course you didn’t, and that’s why you ended up coming here like the dumb little slut you are.

And look, you even wore something so easy to flip up, practically easy access. You just have no shame at all, do you. See, it goes in perfectly because you’ve been using those toys for those videos, and… ah, so that’s— that’s what it feels like… holy shit… this is what you basically robbed him of all this time? Now you’ll really have to suffer to make up for it…

Well, you wouldn’t get it. It’s about what you did subconsciously, mind games and all that. His torment was intentional on your end, and that’s what matters. Now you'll get to spend a very very long time atoning for it. You should be happy. You won't even have to worry about making money anymore.

This wouldn’t be happening to you if you didn’t do what you did to him, you know. It’s your fault. He tells you so. And when you look up at him, eyes welled with tears, stammering out a question of what he means—

What did I ever d-do to you…?

—he realizes that it’s… difficult to give that question a concrete answer.

What did you do, really...?

The only problem that remains is how you rushed things. He was at least going to wait until you finished the project, but now it’s incomplete… do professors grant extensions if your partner goes missing…?

[justmwahstruly]

WH Zombie Au!!!

*dead parts on the body are parts that can twist and bend unlike usual; essentially, the bone there is broken or missing, allowing the part to move however as the person pleases.

(more) INFODUMPING!!!

So!! The case with this au is that there are THREE basic types of person. There are the (losers) Uninfected, who are just normal people. Then there are the Feral, which are your stereotypical, people-eating zombies. Lastly, there are the Sentient, like Molly in this au! The Feral are often killed off for being dangerous, though some just have them locked up and fed with animals because they cant stand the idea of killing off someone they once knew and loved. Many Sentients can turn Feral, sometimes only temporarily (like Molly) and sometimes permanently.

I think the whole thing would center around this little diner with mostly Sentient employees and likewise mostly Sentient customers. Molly, Julie, and Howdy are employees there! Friendly for all, of course!

please, take a doodle where I didn’t fully draw Howdy bc i didn’t want to 🫶

Many Uninfecteds tend to keep distanced from Sentients, since they obviously can go feral unexpectedly. Which is why mostly Sentients are customers at the diner.

For those exact reasons, Sentients often aren’t allowed to go to university and have important jobs like construction or medical if they have any history of going feral, because of the risk it puts the Uninfecteds. Sometimes they don’t even let them if they haven’t got any history of going feral, because what if they do? They deem it too dangerous.

(Also, the Feral don’t simply bite people or eat brains or whatever. They full on EAT PEOPLE. Hence the danger n stuff)

I think the AU would be people adjusting from the outbreak and the Sentients fighting for rights. Simple! (And also a slight focus on Molly trying her very best not to go completely feral because she has her moments. She’s doing her best)

So now, have some doodles!

and also.,….,…. me n my homie @twolitwicksinatrenchcoat decided our ocs would be literally so wonderful for each other in this au and it’s great

they love each other and i want to do more infodumping sbout them alone but later 🫶

I hope y’all enjoy this AU! It’s very fun and silly and it’s my newest hyperfixation as of right now heahhehahehah

(I’m lowkey nervous to post this hehe)

[miammey]

Very rare HSR post from me, but idea that I don’t feel like writing

(ALSO BOOTHILL BACKSTORY LEAKS!!!)

Little agrenthill thing!!

Boothill’s told Argenti about his daughter and what happened, so he already knows that part, but late Boothill’s feeling kinda down one day, and off-handedly mentions it’s his daughter’s birthday (well, the day she was found), and how he kinda just wants some space (you know to be sad and broody and stuff)

Now imagine Argenti taking the time to make a small cake or something for her, nothing special, and he couldn’t make it personal to her since she wasn’t even old enough to form her own interests yet, but he still wants to do something for her, even if she’s long gone and they had never met before, she was someone important to his beloved.

Boothill walks in on him icing the cake, asking what it’s about, and Argenti tells him his thought process, how even if she’s no longer with us, and even if he had only known her for a short amount of time, she deserves to be celebrated.

Boothill was silent, Argenti asked if he’d overstepped and apologized if he did, but Boothill just starts crying, tears silently falling down his face. He hadn’t cried for her, or anyone in his family, for years now. He’s cried for them enough, days huddled out in those reserves just crying, barely eating, unable to do anything just yet while he processed what had happened, but here he was, casual clothes, no gunslinging that day, meant to just be spending his time with his boyfriend, the perfect time to finally crack the jar bottling up his emotions just enough to breathe.

His life, whatever was left of it, was so focused on revenge, tearing away his own humanity just to tear down the bastards who took away not only his home, but the home of so SO many others.

For a moment, he was not a machine built for destruction, but a man who missed his family.

He missed his parents, his siblings, his daughter, his horse and the farm dogs they kept around, even the asshole neighbors that likes to steal eggs from them. None of them survived.

Argenti went to comfort him, apologizing, but no, Boothill wasn’t upset about the cake, in fact he was glad that Argenti cared enough to make a cake for a long dead child. He thanked Argenti for the effort, and for doing this in the first place, and tells him that she would’ve loved it.

Boothill spent the next couple hour telling stories about his family. How his daughter loved sweets, or any food really. The stories his parents would tell, funny stories of mishaps on the farm, with Argenti giving him his full attention.

While enjoying the cake, Boothill spent the rest of the day keeping the memory of those he was fighting for alive, even if he himself was a dead man walking.

[roomwithanopenfire]

Six Sentence Sunday

Happy Sunday Everyone!! Thanks to @monbons for tagging me, so excited for the next chapter of your fic!

I've been having a really good week, I finished up all my finals and all my papers, and I moved all my stuff out of my dorm room—meaning I'm back home now and ready for summer! I have two weeks before my main summer job starts, so that means a lot of time for writing! And I've already gotten a start by having a super productive week writing-wise this week as well (finally got some solid work in on my COBB fic, turns out getting some vampire name inspo from @fiend-for-culture and seeing the first peek of the artwork really brought back all my excitement for this wip!!!)

I'm posting the newest chapter of Proof of Life tomorrow, which is one that I'm super excited to share. Unfortunately, this is the last chapter in my backlog, so I'll have take a small posting break after this, but that just means that if you haven't had a chance to start reading yet, you have time to catch up 🙃

But even more exciting news! I realized that I missed the 2 year anniversary of the first fanfic I wrote for this fandom! After reading all three Carry On books, I absolutely devoured fanfiction for probably around 6 months before ever writing my own. And the only reason I wrote anything was because I had a scene absolutely stuck in my head, and no one else had written it yet. So honor of being a month late to it's birthday, here are 6ish sentences from the first fanfic I wrote: Tense Silence (under the cut because this is already getting long):

“You’re a vampire.” says Simon. His voice came from above me. “You really are.”

I look up to see Simon standing, staring down at me. He has the Sword of Mages in one hand and the silver cross dangling in the other. It is very close to my face. I turn my head away. He moves the cross closer. I close my eyes as I smell the metal hanging merely centimetres away from me. 

“You tried to bite me.” He says. “You really tried to drink my blood.”

As you can see, I started out the fandom almost exactly where I ended up—writing angsty vampire Baz fics. While there's some things that I would do differently now and a few noticeable mistakes (Simon's cross is gold not silver, Past Lily, get it right!), I'm still really proud of this fic. I remember spending weeks working on it and being very nervous to post this 6k fic, so it's definitely kind of crazy to look back it and see how much I've grown as a writer, and how many friends I've made in fandom since then.

Tags & Hellos!

@you-remind-me-of-the-babe @facewithoutheart @run-for-chamo-miles @raenestee @artsyunderstudy

@onepintobean @prettygoododds @noblecorgi @hushed-chorus @angelsfalling16

@thewholelemon @shrekgogurt @brendughh @a-maisie-ng @hertragedyconnoisseur

@beastmonstertitan @valeffelees @horsesarenotdeer @drowninginships @supercutedinosaurs

@fiend-for-culture @rimeswithpurple @cutestkilla @alexalexinii @ileadacharmedlife

@arthurkko @rbkzz

[raapija]

Xan we get anything slightly angsty from the pookie au 🥺 theyre too content

Thank you for the prompt <3 I'm sorry for the late response. The amount of times I've started to write something, deleted it, started again, deleted, started, deleted... ugh... But now I've finally settled for this. I struggle to write angsty stuff, but I hope you like this one. It became a lot sadder than I anticipated...

This is inspired by this post, so give it a quick glance before reading.

this is set in 2020

summary: Lance calls Fernando after a tough day and it turns even worse.

warnings: angst, self-doubt, lance having a breakdown and fernando not helping

Lance sat on the edge of his bed. The clock on his hotel room wall was too loud. It made his ears tingle with each tick, driving him mad. He got up, went to pick the clock off the wall and pulled the batteries out. He carefully laid them onto a small table and then returned to sit on the bed, now cross-legged and looking down at his phone.

The black screen of his iphone taunted him, begged for him to pick it up. It was beautifully laid on the red satin cover of the bed. Lance fought between calling and not calling. Maybe he should just go for a run to clear his mind, but the idea of hearing Fernando's voice... He needed it right now. The race had been a total fluke, finishing dead last and he had rushed through the media pen to get back to his hotel. Everyone was staring at him again.

Lance grabbed the phone, taking a while before unlocking the screen and going to find Fernando's number. It was under 'Nano ♥', like it had been for years. The emoji at the end pulled on his heartstrings.

"Cariño?"

Lance sighed when he heard Fernando pick up.

"Lancito? You okay?"

"Yeah, uh..." Lance hurried to answer. He picked on a loose thread on a seam on his joggers. The words were harder to find than usual.

"I miss you." he got out. He let his head hang down, gripping his hair and squeezing his eyes shut.

"I miss you too, baby."

"I love you." Lance added, his voice barely audible. Tears started to fall down, staining the satin under him a dark shade of burgundy. He gripped his hair tighter, so hard it hurt.

"Yo también te quiero, cariño."

Fernando's voice was so smooth, so calm. A stark contrast to Lance's sobbing, which became louder and he had to hold a hand over his mouth to keep them inside.

"Don't cry. I hate hearing you cry."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry either."

"I'm sorry..." Lance whispered. He was always apologizing. Whatever it was. Especially to Fernando.

"What is it, churri? What is making you sad?"

"I had a bad race. They're writing stories about me again."

"Don't look at those. They don't know you."

"I feel like everyone's staring at me. Like they hate me."

"That's not true."

Lance wiped the tears off his face, taking a couple deep breaths to calm down. He sniffled, and then continued: "I know it's not true, but everyone else doesn't. My family, my friends, the guys on the grid... To them that's real."

"No, don't think like that. Your family loves you, your friends love you. I love you."

The word 'love' was losing meaning over distant phone calls. Lance hated it, hated it to his core. He wished Fernando would just come back and hold him. Touch him. Even be there to just look at him.

"Where are you right now?" Lance asked. He knew Fernando was in the Middle-East, doing some sort of a rally raid. He had so many things going on, that Lance struggled to keep up. It felt like Fernando was grabbing at everything he possibly could, finding ways to keep himself occupied instead of coming home, instead of staying still.

"Somewhere, always somewhere."

"But never here."

Lance felt like choking again. He missed him. Missed him so much it was killing him, tearing him apart. If he had known love could hurt you this much, he would've never let himself fall for Fernando.

"I'm tired of being in love and being alone."

"It's okay, I'll find you again."

"But you're so far away from me. You're always away. And I'm always alone."

"I love you, I'm coming back, lo prometo. Te amo."

Again. Love, love, love, echoing in Lance's ears. Two years. Two years Fernando had been away. They saw each other maybe once a month.

"I don't know how much longer I'll be able to wait."

There was a pause in Fernando's end, then a sigh, and Lance felt the tears start to well up in his eyes again.

"I'm trying."

"I need you."

"Cariño, I'm sorry. I promise I find a way back."

Empty promises. Fernando's specialty. Lance wanted to stab at him, right in the heart. A new emotion took over, anger.

"You sons miss you, too. Lando, Oscar and Carlos."

Another pause. His kids were always a way in. Lance took it as a chance to take control.

"You were there for all their life and then you go away like this. Why? Why now? You hold everyone together and now it's all falling apart. You say you love me, but you're never here to love me. You're away so much, it doesn't even feel like we're together anymore. Why?"

"I don't know..."

"Figure it out!" Lance cried. What he was about to say next tortured him, it felt like his soul was being ripped out of him. "I can't live like this. I've given you three years and you've given me nothing. Every day you just go further and further away. Like you want me to leave you."

"No. Never."

"It's what it feels like..." Lance choked out. He didn't even try to keep the tears in anymore. He was too tired of it all.

"You can not leave me. I love you. I find a way, I promise. Lance, you can't."

Lance gave out a pained groan at Fernando's pleading voice. He wanted to throw his phone at the wall. Wanted to scream at Fernando, hit him, kick him, make him understand how much it hurt.

"It's killing me. I give you chance after fucking chance. I'm done with it. I'll only give you one more. One more fucking... -If you don't come back, that's it. I won't ruin my whole life for you."

"I will."

"One chance."

"I promise, I will come to you. Lance, I promise. I lo-"

Lance hung up on him, gripping his phone tight and swinging his arm back to throw it, but he didn't. He instead crumbled down onto the bed, crying into the sheets. He wrapped his arms around himself to imagine it was someone else holding him.

Lance wanted him to come back, to knock on his door in the morning and hug him and kiss him. But a small part of him also wanted Fernando to stay away. That small part ate at him, growing bigger and bigger. Lance wanted to kill it; burn it with fire and never think of it ever again. But it became stronger every day, almost enough that it could take over. Only Fernando could make it go away. If he'd only come back.

[dotster001]

Hii, I was wondering if you're comfortable, could you do romantic Sam (twst) headcanons? Please and thank you!!

Summary: Sam x gn!reader

A/N: I got you pookie. What I love about writing for the staff, is that we know so little that I can write whatever, and no one can say it's not canon. That said...we need more Sam content in this fandom

Note: It's in my pinned post, and I've mentioned this in a couple posts, but if this is the first of my stuff you've read, I view NRC as an actual college, so reader here is 18+. If it makes you more comfy, imagine it as grad school age.

He has his friends keeping an eye on you at all times. Not in a creepy way. He's just stuck at the store for hours, and he misses you. He wants to know about the adventures you get up to while he's trapped in the mystery shop. Sometimes, he'll use them to deliver things to you, like a cool item he got in, or your favorite snack, or a love note.

He's a cuddler. He used to be able to keep the shop open later, if it meant he could make an extra buck. Now, he gets irritable at closing time. Even if there is still a half hour for customers to do their shopping, he'll be angrily tapping his foot and glaring at them. And it's solely because he wants, no needs, to close the shop so he can come home to you. It doesn't matter what you are doing, what homework you have, who you are hanging out with, he is grabbing your wrist the second he is through the door, and dragging you up to bed. Once there, he is cradling you in his arms as he runs his fingers through your hair or along your scalp. He won't say much. It's like he's plugging into a charger port for the night, and is recharging.

Date nights are simple, but very romantic. He'll close the shop early, (angrier than usual at the last customers of the day) and he'll have one of his friends go escort you to his place. While he waits, he cooks a fancy meal, and sets a small table, with a single candle in your favorite color. The candle is enchanted to elevate the romantic aura of the room. Even though he is across the table, you swear the scent of his cologne is surrounding you, and it feels like he is embracing you, even though he is not. The candle affects him the same way, making the scene more intimate, and making it feel like you are the only two people in the world. You always end up feeding each other, while you talk about your days and hopes for the future. As stated in the previous, Sam is down bad for cuddling with you, so as soon as the dinner is finished, he is pulling you into his arms, though, on date night there are several more kisses first.

He can get… a little jealous at times. If his “friends” tell him you are hanging out with someone, especially when he is stuck at the shop, he gets incredibly frustrated. It's not that he doesn't trust you, and he trusts your friends (mostly), but he just really wants to be there. He already finished school, but he'd go through it again for you. He wants to be by your side, experiencing life with you. He sometimes gets the urge to beg Crowley to let you drop classes so that you can work at the shop. He won't, because he knows you need the experience to give you a leg up in this new world. But, sometimes, he can't help but ditch the shop, find you, and slot his way into the conversation. His “friends” tease him to no end, and he had to make a deal with them so they wouldn't out him.

Everything is a transaction. Not in a bad way, it's actually quite cute. You want a hug? Well he wants a kiss. You want that snack? He'll give it to you if you have dinner with him. You want help with your homework? You have to sit on his lap while he tutors you. Everything he asks for  is something you'd willingly give without a deal, so it has to be some kind of turn on for him. He clearly is very happy when you take his deal, though, and his smile is so bright and sweet when he thinks he's gotten one over on you, so you are never going to stop him.

You get the first pick of the items in the shop. Gift giving is his love language, aside from caressing your hair, and he is always way too excited to give you product. Sometimes you need to remind him that he needs to keep some product so he can run his store, but he always smiles suspiciously, assuring you it will never be a problem. Your favorite gifts he's gotten you, are all very sweet things. A silver bracelet, one he has a match of, where if you tap it, whoever is wearing the other bracelet will feel your touch. A ring that always tells you where your lover is. A pen, where if you write something on your skin, it shows up on your partner's skin. He likes to give you things that make you think of him. He says it's because having a radiant model to show off his product helps it sell….but…considering most of the things that he gives you are one of a kind…you aren't sure you believe him.

[heartlesscorpse]

You Will Always Be Mine. ︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭ ⭑

As I mentioned in some other post w/ my Ghostface hcs— here’s the mini fic w/ prosthetics from Slipknot as inspiration :)) I also used some other stuff from Slipknot like Vermilion and Iowa just to get the whole set in my head and it was fucking difficult at first for me to figure out the opening for this drkgenrgkjdgjnskdverlb my mind went places so fast I was internally giggling like some maniac while writing this 💀💀 Please forgive me this looks like shit even though I edited it over :”)) Before I forget I’ve also got the mini fic posted on my Ao3 which you can read here.

Danny’s eyes fluttered closed, his nose nestled in your hair as he deeply inhaled the scent of your shampoo that always clung to you. Exhaling sharply as his head reeled slowly from your personal space with a quiet groan of satisfaction escaping him. His arms tighten around your unconscious form cradled in his hold, his footsteps carrying confidence as he silently strides through the darkened halls of your home. He finally caved in after a handful of months, watching you from afar whenever he wasn’t busy tormenting some other poor Roseville resident on those nights. Hell, it felt like torture; you being so blissfully unaware of his presence as you’re going about your day-to-day routines. 

Fuck, everything about you just made it so difficult to do his work properly.

Danny never thought, a potential victim of his, would take root inside his mind and fester like an open wound. He adored and loved everything about you. The color of your eyes, your smell, the way you dress, your voice, the sound of your laughter, and that gorgeous smile of yours. Everything.  He can’t even find the words to describe how much he loved you, he was obsessed with you. He had some of your missing belongings, a shit ton of photos of you, anything of yours. Enough stuff to build a shrine completely dedicated to you, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted you, he needed to keep you all to himself. As he propped open the back door with his boot and stepped outside into the crisp cool night air with your body still tucked close to him, the neighborhood was fairly silent other than the faint barks from a dog on some other street as he made it over to his car and carefully set you down lying in the car seat at the back before moving around to climb into the driver’s seat. 

Car key in, ignition started, and he was slowly pulling out from the sidewalks with a grin marring his features behind the mask. Feeling a little giddy from his accomplishments, Danny couldn’t help but softly chuckle to himself. He finally had you, and he planned on keeping you with him forever.  You were his little mouse after all.  He can’t stand the thought of another being so close to you, it always left a sickening pit in his stomach and made his blood boil seeing strangers talk to you. But what’s adding another victim to his body count? He’s just doing his job in protecting you. 

You don’t need anybody else, just him. 

And now, Danny’s home was going to be your home too! Of course, he took into consideration that you were going to be upset or mad at him for this, and he’d have to tie you down to prevent you from leaving his place. He can’t have you escaping him after all that hard work he pulled off. But in time, he hoped you’d grow to accept your new life with him. Danny could feel his heart palpitating from the overwhelming amount of excitement when he pulled into the garage of his place, turning the engine off and moving around back to carefully pluck you out from the car and carry you on inside. Basking in the familiarity of his home to the few newspaper clippings lying around and placing his trusty camera on the counter as he made his way to his bedroom and gently laid you down, cuffing one of your wrists to the bedpost to restrain you from leaving when you wake up soon. 

Danny loomed over your still unconscious form, his head slowly tilted to the side as he pulled his mask aside with a smile slowly curling on his lips, admiring the peaceful expression written on your features. Oh, how completely oblivious you are right now. He leaned down, pressing a kiss at the crown of your head, turning away to leave you in his room to sleep off the effects of the drug. “Sleep tight, dollface.” Danny mused with a whisper, quietly pulling the door shut behind him. 

He had you in his grasp now, and he'll never let you go. You’re rightfully his, his everything. Nobody else gets to have you now. 

You solely belong to him.

☠︎︎༒︎✞︎🕸𖤐

[oldhalloweentape]

🪨Venture (OW II) x (gn) reader ⛏️

(ALT/Goth, mostly Goth leaning Edition!)

(Picture’s not mine!)

(Another request by @goohts , such a great supporter throughout all of this! On top of that, I have something to announce at the end of this post!)

- Right off the bat, such a great dynamic, when they first saw you they immediately went to introduce themselves— Compliment after compliment spilling from their lips.

- Asks you sooo many questions on how you decided on going for that style, means well of course, just wants to know the importance of it you as a person.

- If you’re a goth in particular? They definitely refers a whole lot to the extinct culture of the Goths, you know— The Germanic ones that wrecked the Western Roman Empire with extreme brutality and were the cause of medieval Europe emerging.

- Starts learning about the culture and history of your group so they can talk about something you like and is a part of your life.

- Dance moves? Learnt some of them so they can look “cool” at the Goth club with you, like that one video of that nerdy guy with the quarter that moves up and down like he’s on one of those kiddy revolving horses, (here) it’s a bit silly but it’s heartwarming nonetheless.

- Anyways, if you’re taller, shorter, or the same height, they can and will borrow some of your accessories/clothing. Cheeky about it too, as they show off what they borrowed as proof of them dating you, especially to Mauga.

- Can and will buy you things as a thank you for letting them borrow your stuff, likes buying stuff like that at a thrift store— That kind of stuff has personality to them.

- Piercings? They have one as well so I think they’d be giddy to show off the various extra piercings they have in this ornate jewelry box their Abuela gave Sloane specifically for them.

- Tattoos? I think we already know the answer to this one, so proud of their own and will admire yours, asking more questions as they ask whether or not yours has meaning behind them as they touch the inked skin.

- If you ask, they’d be up for getting some more alongside you, maybe even buy some extra piercings for you, goes in tandem with their love language of quality time and gift giving.

- All the while chattering about the history about both, they’re just so giddy and supportive.

- Will help and encourage you to indulge in dark facts about history if you’re into that, feed into it as they take you to a morbid museum of some sort as a date, only if you let them go to a dinosaur one afterwards.

- If you do makeup, they will be astonished by it and practically beg for you to do theirs.

- Can’t handle standing still for too long (firm ADHD Venture believer) but will accept kisses in between as a consolation prize for doing so. On top of watching an analysis video on rock formations, if it’s good they’ll be almost as transfixed as they are when they look at you.

- Once it’s done, there is a high chance of them coming back, makeup smeared or dirty and begging for you to do it again, will use the puppy eyes and the pouting lip tactic.

- Loves when you have your makeup on, thinks so cool and interesting on you, but they also love messing it up, if you catch my drift.

- I can just imagine after a particularly long time of Venture being away cause of their job, with a mix of smeared makeup on your faces after a making out, a smug grin on their face as they say something like, “Aw did you really miss me that much?”

- Boastful as all hell when it comes to the fact that, them a goofy ass archeologist was able to bag someone like you.

- Brags about you a lot whenever you come up in conversation and jumps at the chance of taking you to their job so they show you off.

- Introducing you to other people usually goes like this, “Yeah this is Reader, my partner— Looks absolutely amazing don’t they?” All the while holding the side of your waist with one arm with a self satisfied look on their face.

(Alright!!! So, after a bit of consideration I’m going to start writing for a character from Overwatch that I’ve really liked for years now, Junkrat! I like them dirty Ig lol.)

[liberatedthroughperfection]

In which I ramble about Dyson

// @measlyscrapofseafood ugh, oh darn u twisted my arm to explain my head-canons about Dyson.

//As always, this is all biased on _my_ personal interpretation of the character from Uprising and various fics and others head-canons. If you have comments about it or other perspective, hmu in my inbox. If you just want to send hate, I know how to find IP addresses of anonymous DMs. I have a broken shoulder and limited patience.

Dyson was Tron's right hand man. Tron's squad wouldn't just be a random security suite added to the system. Dyson gives orders to Reeve, Nord, and Klax- meaning he has some sort of authority. They all have the same colored dots on their suit, except Klax but I think that's an animation issue. I head-canon those are rank indicators. Those in the Occupation have a more simplistic display of rank, as does Dyson-but his original colored dots are still there.

But, whatever. Tron's team would have trained their own groups, who trained other groups- so on so forth. But Tron hangs around Clu and Flynn, and so Dyson would too. Dyson and Tron have a very friendly relationship. I mean, "Old friend", you don't just say that to a co-worker! My Dyson had/has a crush on Tron. But Tron has existing shit with Flynn, and who knows what was going on with him and Clu. So Dyson just had to keep it to himself. One sided and unrequited. Dyson is a security program. He's influenced by Tron, and probably Flynn to be a bit more understanding of the ISO situation. My Dyson is even the first one to patrol the ISO district. He found the architecture beautiful. The only thing he regretted having to destroy during the Purge. But the more things got out of hand, the more worried he became. Programing kicked in. Calculations on the unrest causing casualties (oop) and other security program stuff. Before the riot, he didn't show any indications of wanting to kill the ISOs. He went to the riot WILLINGLY, and without the orders from Tron. And then...the riot. I feel like this was the first instance of true violence on the Grid. Programs have probably been derezzed from accidents and Gridbug swarms. And Dyson was used to that. It's part of his programing to not freak out at the concept- but programs were derezzed right in front of him without anyway to stop it. Tron said no discs. Then he got blasted in the face. My Dyson still struggles with that trauma. And when Flynn shows up, Dyson's still missing half a face! So obviously that's not something a normal medical program can fix...but wowie, Flynn can. And Dyson's upset, he has a RIGHT to be upset. If Flynn had fixed him, there more than likely wouldn't even be a Coup.

I mean, I could write a whole dissertation on that one scene. But Flynn knows who Dyson is. And yeah, Dyson says the ISOs should be erased from the Grid, blahblahblah, but then FLYNN FUCKING TOSSES HIM ASIDE! TOSSES ALL PROGRAMS ASIDE FOR THE FUCKING ISOS!!!! And Tron just...goes along with Flynn. Like a fucking DOG. (lol foreshadowing)

But Clu...Cu understands. He fixes Dyson- something Flynn apparently couldn't even do. Ok yeah, some think that Clu rectified him, or there was something in the disc that changed his coding. But imo, Dyson's still got too much personality to be repurposed. Something Clu wanted from Tron. So not only did Dyson loose his faith in the creator of the Grid, but also his best friend/and huge crush. But he has Clu, and Clu will put everything back to order.

Lol I think I reached the post limit. Stay tuned for part 2!

[sillygoose067]

Over The 7 Seas

Ch. 35

Charles Leclerc x Reader

The flight back to Monaco was just as tiring as the one to LA. This time though, you opted to stay with Charles and relax, utterly drained from your trip. The seats are spacious, with a lot of legroom, and seats that could be extended into pseudo-beds. Doing so, you stretch your tired limbs and snuggle into Charles's chest while he scrolls through the race stats and Twitter posts. Soon enough, he drifts off as well, holding you to his chest, chin resting atop your head, your arms wrapped around him under his sweater. 

Kika and Carlos see this and walk up to take pictures– Kika because it was so cute and she’d send them to you later (or post them with your permission), and Carlos so that he could have some incriminating evidence against Charles in case he ever needed it. 

…

While the rest of the race crew are dead to the world, you call over the attendant managing the meals and gently shake your boyfriend awake. “Charles, wake up”, you whisper. “We need to eat something, we missed it earlier.”

He mumbles something about wanting to sleep longer, but ultimately rubs his eyes and gains some clarity. 

While you enjoy the meal, you talk in hushed whispers, not wanting to wake the others, but also wanting to keep the conversation private. “Charles… if you’re also okay with it, I think I’m ready to come out to the public about our relationship now.”

He nods in agreement. “Yes, me too, love. Especially because we take so many photos and videos– and the vlog. I think I’m ready to show off my beautiful girlfriend to the rest of the world.”

“I was thinking along the same lines.”

“What, that you wanted to show off your beautiful girlfriend?”

You shove him. “Haha, you’re so funny. No, that we took so many pictures and stuff, and I wanted to post them anyway…”, you shrug. 

He pulls out his phone and kisses your temple while you scrunch your face cutely, taking a photo of the action, and gets to work on his latest post. You take one of you kissing his jaw and one of him looking down at you while you look up at him, hearts in both of your eyes. 

Once done, you show each other your drafts, and save them to post once you land. 

…

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“We’ve been together for three months…”

You squint at him. “Yes, and?”

“I know it’s rather early, and you’re new to this, and I don’t want to ruin things or rush or force you–”

“Get to the point Charles.”

“Um, will you move in with me?”, he asks, his voice increasing in pitch with every word.

Pause. 

“I’m not sure if I heard you correctly. I think you asked me to move in with you?”

“...Yes.”

You bite your lip, trying to hide your excitement. “But won’t that mean you’d have to empty your precious closet space, convert your second guest room into a studio, sleep on one side of the bed, and make room in your bathroom cabinets for my products?”

“Baby, I’m so ready for any of that, all of that with you. You feel like a part of me now. I want to wake up every day with you in my arms. I want to make meals with you. I want to spend my free days lounging around and walking the streets with you. I even want to do your silly little skincare routines with you every night.”

You suppress the urge to climb him and wrap around like a koala. How can a man be this sweet, you think. I’d do almost anything for this man. 

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Yes!”

You cover his mouth with your hand, shushing him. “The others are still sleeping Charles”, you reprimand him softly. His eyes scrunch up into adorable half-moons as he smiles under your hand. Making sure he won’t be loud again, you remove your hand slowly. He leans in and kisses you, a fervent passion that expresses both of your emotions of happiness and excitement. 

When you part, he speaks again. “Give me a week, love, and I’ll get all the stuff ready for you.”

“Ok. But, um, I’m going to need some help moving my equipment. If that’s possible?”

“Consider it done.”

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

This is just me rambling and stuff, and this is the only way i could get out my monty brainrot and a little bit of yves brainworm out of my head, but just ignore it if it's cringe or too insane

I think with the way Yves would take care of me thoroughly and know me so well would unsettle me at times, but ultimately it would probably cement his place as a comforting and caring platonic partner in my head 😭😭 cause i know i would be thinking like "oh! He's so inspiring! I think he's the perfect role model for how i should take care of myself and love the people close to me ^^" <- absolutely missing the point and every romantic gesture i would misunderstand (what lacking romantic experience does to a mf) as something he does with other ppl, even though i would imagine that he's barely seen with anyone else than his darling :'); or maybe he would account for the fact that i misunderstand things? But i have a feeling that he would catch on to the fact that I'm a bit of a blockhead

Imo i think that i would choose Monty over Yves, despite everything that he did for me; maybe because he's done so much for me, i would probably feel immeasurably guilty even if he does say he likes doing it and personally, the power imbalance in both his material and physical qualities as well as the lack of vulnerability would intimidate me 🫠🫠 errr in a way, Monty I love so much because of how loving, protective and accepting he is, he's got characteristics that are close to my type!! (might also be the fact that to some extent, he can be controlled :3); he's endearingly trying his best and flopping a lot, but at least he listens to valid criticism 🥰🥰 he's... Cute... And maybe because of the food too, since receiving and giving food is a big sign of love for me <3 His messiness is a bit of a charm to me, because personally it takes a lot of guts and vulnerability to show someone how messy you are physically and mentally, or well, maybe its pity over the depression mess 😔 One thing i want to know is if he'll ever get immune to his darling's romantic and sexual advances and throw it right back similarly? Or is still gonna be giggling and kicking his feet on the bed over it? And i wonder how his reaction would be towards a darling that starts off meek and quiet, but gets more dominant and pursues him as well? Man, i want this guy pegged <3 And to get him pregnant <3 I want to give him backshots that make him better or worse :3

Anyway, this is also a way of grieving over not choosing Monty over Cyprus 😔 because i read Cyprus first before Monty and i regret picking him for the poll 🤧 but, I'm looking forward to any potential Monty content and how this silly guy locks in or flop <3

Boy oh boy do I have the ask for you

Thanks for the ramble anon it was a good read 👍

Well Yves does act accordingly to your personality. If you are pretty clueless BUT would accept him as your ONLY romantic partner for life, he would be extremely straightforward, cutting to the chase and be clear in what he wants the relationship to be (it was exhibited in Best and Worst of Both worlds)

But if he predicts that you will reject him or eventually cheat on him later in the relationship despite all the measures to stop you from doing so, he will remain platonic. And his prediction model is horrifyingly accurate. Mans will even reject YOU if he knows you can't keep it in your pants 💔

Oh yeah if it's vulnerability you're looking for Yves is ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT the man you're looking for homie 😭 he is THE fort knox of mental illness, you can (almost) never catch him lacking and is always locking in while Monty is human

Literally Yves isn't actually human anymore

Here are other pieces of writing that has monty in it, idk if you seen them yet but it was all clumped together with Yves's MASSIVE sections

What makes Monty wanna fuck you (the lower half of this post is just Yves waffles)

Montgomery as a dad (scroll to like half of it to skip Yves's part)

Yves isn't necessarily okay with being only a platonic yandere