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Ch6 - Mantis
A/N: Goodmorning dick shits. Here is a little schplingity schploosh. Stay tuned for the next one.
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You stood on the opposite side of the room. You were frozen, your teeth poised to bite down on a hang nail.
Asa decided to let you adjust to him for a moment, though he had a sneaking suspicion that you wouldn’t have nearly as much trouble as some of his other specimen.
You were too scared to move for an upwards of ten minutes. You were trembling in every limb and as quiet as a church mouse. You seemed to realize that he was waiting for you to move first and slowly lowered your hand back to your side where it curled itself in to a tight fist.
Once Asa saw that you were comfortable enough to move, he closed the door behind him. He grabbed the length of rope on his utility belt and held it up to show you. He smiled once he saw your owlish eyes grow even bigger.
The smile dropped partially when instead of the color draining from your face, a deep red blossomed from the apples of your cheeks and rose up to the surface where it was spread across your whole face. Tears sparkled at your waterline once more and you turned your head away from him, opting to put your hangnail back in your mouth instead.
He snapped sharply and you startled, jumping backwards. You were too close to the doorway and your head bumped against the door frame, not hard, but enough to make you grimace a little bit. If your face could’ve grown any redder, it would’ve.
Asa snapped again, this time at the floor in front of him. You shook your head slightly in disbelief, inching further in to the bathroom, away from him.
He narrowed his eyes and did it again. This time with a lot less amusement. You were special, but you were going to follow the rules and obey his commands like all the rest.
You swallowed hard and began to creep toward him, as if an invisible person were pushing you forward against your will. Finally when you were no more than two feet away from him, he snatched up your delicate wrist in his gloved hand.
You instinctively flinched backwards and tried to yank it back, but your arm didn’t budge from his iron grip. Quickly and efficiently, he tied your wrists together snugly, but not painfully. He tugged on the ropes once they were tied to make sure they were secure and then grabbed the loose end.
He opened the big metal door again and led you out the door. It took minimal coaxing as you seemed to realize that you had no other choice. You shivered as you stepped in to the hallway, still severely underdressed for the weather.
He examined your reaction as you drank in your depressing, dark, and dank surroundings. It was strangely void of fear and more filled with confusion and annoyance. You were shivering quite violently now, trying to clench every muscle in your body to get you to stop.
Asa sighed. You were even a bit more fragile than you looked, it seemed. In one smooth motion, he swept you off your feet and slung you over his shoulder.
This was the first time you screamed. It wasn’t loud or bloodcurdling like some of the others he’d heard. It was more of an exclamation of surprise.
“Ee!” You squeaked like a little mouse.
It was like you were intentionally trying to charm your freedom out of him. Unfortunately for you, it would not work.
🎀
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Punished myself by sealing away all my skincare and makeup till I learn to be nice to my body.
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My main account attached to my real name has like over 10 unread messages that I can’t ever open for some reason. I just ?? Suck really bad at opening messages, I just hate texting for my main form of communication with somebody.
I just go on these weird reclusive hiatuses where I feel completely paralyzed and unable to do anything like a normal person. It’s not true at all, but there’s something wrong with my brain.
I hate telling people I have anxiety because it’s so much deeper than feeling nervous or sometimes having an attack of some kind. It’s just one long endless episode of paranoia and fear.
Whew that was too serious.. This is the price you pay for more Mantis chapters, you get to be my therapist.
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I HAVENT SMOKED CRACK SINCE 11TH GRADE
(What)
I HAVENT ATE PUSSY IN LIKE 7 DAYSSSS 🗣️🗣️🗣️🍀🍀🍀🍀
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Asa Emory X SEXYNERD!Reader
A/N: Listen, an academic genius who is also a sexy nerd is my favorite archetype. Hitting the books while getting high, big stupid glasses, and a button up shirt that’s one button too much. I know you college baddies get me.
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- How do you do that? Study from the moment you wake up to the moment you go out at night, party like you have a terminal illness, go home and sleep for an hour or two, and then do it all again?
- Asa, who is a regular patron of the local library, sees you there often. Your nose is always buried deep in a book, ranging from classic literary masterpieces to How To Fold A Paper Airplane.
- You always walk in and out with an armful of books, placing them on the table next to the return slots and then carefully sliding each one in the correct category.
- You pretend to be so oblivious to the intentions of the men you surround yourself with and then exploit them for their resources (notes, help, even plagiarizing when you need to scrape by and can’t do your own work in time to pass) when they have their guard down.
- At worst, you’re a bit whorish. At best… you were a genius. Maybe even a little bit of a sociopath.
- Then Asa has you in his class and sees how dedicated you are to soaking up as much information as possible. Funny, he had expected you to immediately make a move on him and maybe even doubted how attractive he’d considered himself when you didn’t.
- You sit in the front row, but you don’t ask questions and rarely talk. You pay attention when he talks, but you look away after a polite amount of eye contact. You don’t even blush if you happen to stick around to ask questions after class.
- When you walked through the door, you had nothing backing your entomology knowledge but basic information about biology. In a month, you’d made connections that your other classmates hadn’t.
- Your pinning skills are immaculate. Your ability to focus that deeply is uncanny. He realized how pressured you felt for the first time because he was standing right over your shoulder to watch as you pinned your first specimen.
- It’s right before Winter break that he catches an opportunity to get closer to you. You were at the campus bookshop, buying a stack of new (used) books for yourself. You were the only person in the store, right before closing, and the employee was wearing a look of thinly veiled annoyance. They tapped their finger on the countertop as you rifled through your purse, bags under your hazy eyes.
- “Put it on my tab,” he says. He doesn’t realize how utterly insane it is that he has a personal tab at the local college’s bookstore, but he appreciates the thankful and amused smile that crosses your face.
- “Y/N,” he says, telling you to follow him with a nonchalant nod of his head. “Come. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
- And you gather up your books and like an eager puppy, you follow him, glancing up every few seconds. “What’s up, Doc? Sorry. Inappropriate. What can I do for you?”
- He actually snorts a bit at your horrible, awful pun on his doctorate. He quickly shakes it off and turns toward the parking lot outside that part of campus.
- He hates to crush you right now, especially when you’re acting so stupidly adorable, but it is for the greater good. As you approach the only two vehicles in the lot, yours and Asa’s, he stops and turns to you.
- “I know that last assignment wasn’t your work,” his expression is almost scarily indifferent. “I have a no-cheating policy in my class, Y/N.”
- He waits to see what you’ll do. Will you break down and cry and beg for his forgiveness? Will you double-down on your lie?
- You simply accepted it with a tired sigh and a defeated nod. “I understand. I’m sorry, Dr. Emory, really, for what it’s worth. I really enjoyed my time in your class. You’re a very knowledgeable man.”
- Asa blinked. He couldn’t believe that his heart was about to explode like he was seventeen about to see boobs (in real life) for the first time.
- He gripped your jaw firmly and swooped down in to kiss you. It was forceful and demanding and maybe even a little inexperienced. You did not object, opting to lean in to his hands, tilting your head to the side as you pressed your lips back against his.
- As he pulled away to look at you, he saw the huge sly grin that took over your entire face and the deep pink blush across your cheeks as you batted your eyelashes up at him,
- “Y’know,” you said, stepping toward the breathless man. “I think I’d really like to learn more from you… is there some way we can arrange that, Asa?”
- You little bastard, he thought to himself as he found himself surrendering to your pleading Bambi eyes, you did it again.
🎀
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This is my son. Yes, he is adopted. How did you know?
Chiaotzu is my favorite Dragon Ball Z character. He activates my maternal instincts whenever I see him.
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Chiaotzu is my favorite Dragon Ball Z character. He activates my maternal instincts whenever I see him.
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White women hobbies range from shitty finger crochet to writing softcore porn online under a pseudonym.
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I GAVE YOU MY HEART AND YOU MADE HEART-BREAK 🗣️🗣️ YOUUUU LET MY HEART BREAK YOUUUU MADE MY HEART ACHE
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Ch5 - Mantis
A/N: Woohoo! Churned out yet another chapter in a relatively timely fashion. Good job little Jimmy Lass. Anyway, this series might get a little cringey NSFW-y, just so you know, but I’ll try to do it minimally so the entire story isn’t completely focused on it.
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You’d been left alone for now. As soon as the man had left, you immediately scrambled around your room. You frantically looked for anything and everything that could help you out of your situation.
You knew who he was. You recognized him from the news! He was the one they’d been searching for, for years, really. The Collector, they’d named him.
You recalled a memory of a conversation you had with yourself the day you’d been blowing out your hair while watching the news.
“He seems to use traps to catch his victims and end their lives. Some of the victims are still missing and his murderous crime spree shows no signs of stopping.” The news then transitioned to a police sketch of the Collector.
You whistled lowly to yourself and chuckled dryly, “Betta not let me get my hands on him.”
It was just your luck. 🍀. You knew that this was not going to go the same way as the sex hormone-fueled wet dream you’d been having every night on repeat for forever.
You were in the bathroom now. Your hands were tangled in your hair and your chest heaved as you took deep breaths.
You heard footsteps coming from the hallway. You watched the door carefully, frozen in fear. They went right past and instead stopped a little ways past the room you were in.
“Please. Let me out.” A girl’s voice echoed through the vent next to the exit door.
Wait. What. Your fantasy seemed to be ruined before it even began. You rushed to the vent and pressed your ear against it..
“Let me out. I’ll be good. I promise.” Ugh. You’d known her all of two minutes and she was such a whiny pushover already.
A weird noise echoed through the metal walls. It was sort of like… clicking? Clicking and purring in one?
You tore yourself away from the vent and walked away from it. You paced back and forth, clenching and unclenching your fists as you re-contemplated just what kind of situation you were in.
You didn’t even want to think about what he was doing to that other girl in there. A shiver of disgust ran up your spine and shook your entire body. You even felt a bit of vomit creep up your throat.
You heard the other door being sealed up and then you knew it was your turn. You ran on your tip-toes around the room as you searched for a last resort.
You did not find one and you were left to stand there dumbly went the door finally opened.
🎀
Hi! Did you like this? If so, please check out my other works! Thank you and have a beautiful day! 🩷
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Two Anime Women Are My Idols And It Is Misty And Bulma Brief. Terrible and gross and how sexualized Misty is, who is TEN. By the way. TEN. A SINGLE DECADE.
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I TAKE REQUESTS! I’D LIKE SOME SLASHER X READER IDEAS IN MY REQUESTS.
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Have you ever gotten way too high and began reciting your daily prayers to calm down … yeah. Me neither. 👀
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She could never be as esoteric whimsigoth Bella Swan fairy grunge alt princess as me. Face it, she’ll never be able to fill my Demonia Doc Marten Converse Platforms.
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The 13 people who all liked or reblogged my Asa Emory x Reader Who Has A Skin Picking Problem, you’re all my bridesmaids for my wedding
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Me on Pinterest saving a cute piece of art to my Art Reference board: Veryyy cyutteee!!! :))) :D
The Caption of the Pin: FEMBOY FURRY CATSONA IN CUTE BONDAGE GEAR
Me: :(
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LMAO. WHY.
One of my most frequent thoughts when I skin pick is just why?
You’re doing so well, your skin is the clearest it’s ever been and you’re so proud of yourself. And then a blemish pops up.
Your highly trained eyes always shift back to look head-on at the ugly mark. The head is right there, it’s so primed and ready to pop. You almost can’t believe that it’s that easy now- just one and done.
You decide to do it quickly- no! You decide to savor the moment, the grossly satisfying experience that you’ve come to crave. You set up in front of the mirror, your chin perched in to your hands and your fingers poised and ready to end the zit’s life swiftly and painlessly.
You hesitate as you catch a glimpse of your nails in the close-up mirror, your flashlight on full strength. They’re long. And uneve n from scraping back and forth between your teeth as a pacifier for the real desire you have to bite them off right down to the quick.
Your mind wanders back to the last time you picked without trimming your nails first. The blood crescent marks in your skin, the first layer or two of your delicate flesh scraped off as a result of too much pressure on too fine a point.
But that was when you were overdoing it, you reason with yourself. You won’t do that this time. You promise.
You take a deep breath and promise yourself that you’ll do the gentlest, most precise job that you can. You slowly apply the pressure.
The top pops and the yellowish fluid leaks out, but the juicy head that you thought you saw was nowhere to be seen. It must’ve been deeper in the skin than you thought.
You decide to use your nails to really pinpoint where you want the pressure to go. Just this once and never again. You readjust the angle of your nails and once again you began to squeeze your skin.
You miscalculated your angle and your nails suddenly rip through your skin and skim right over the nugget of sebum that you know damn well is still in there.
You have to get it out.
You try again and the same thing happens. You try again. And again. Just one more time, just one more time.
It’s never just once. It’s never just one more time. Even once leads to a complete relapse and leaves you feeling hollow and empty inside as you now feel as ugly on the outside as you do on the inside.
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