#<- please heed these

[cocoabats]

Deer Hunting Season better known as that one comic that made all our readers yell at us! I had the absolute pleasure of collabing on this comic with @theminecraftbee (writing), @otselotus (art) and @definitelynotshouting (editing) (with a gorgeous cover by @ingapotejtoo and some additional help from @kunehokki). And of course if youd like to know where HG and CG end up after this check out @hotguycomiczine!

Had a blast working on this comic, this whole team was absolutely lovely and I was super happy I could jump in to help out :DD

[ START | PREVIOUS | NEXT]

[ MERCH | MISC ]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Happy one year anniversary to In Stars and Time!

[vitreouspositive]

that moment in tfone. but shattered glass. whoever sold the idea of canonising alternate universes??? actual genius.

[realian]

"Anthy being fought over like a piece of meat was really fun and good until the show revealed how it was trying to talk about such abuse and CRITICIZE the systems that objectify and victimize women! that's just YIKES!"

[cruel-hiraeth]

꒰ FLESH OF MY FLESH; BLOOD OF MY BLOOD ꒱ KAMO CHOSO X READER — ft. itadori yuuji

warnings ⟢ dead dove: do not eat. minors do not interact—i will block you! incest. yandere elements. implied drugging. noncon. slight forced feminization (choso uses “sister” and she/her pronouns to refer to reader, but reader is nb). religious imagery. reader is yuuji’s twin, but no physical descriptors are used. reader has a vagina.

word count ⟢ 963

notes ⟢ this is part of @ficsforgaza’s kinktober event! my prompt was choso + incest. i have an au with big brother choso and twins yuuji and reader, so this was the perfect opportunity to explore their dynamic. a huge thank you to my dearest lexi—@drleggman—for requesting this (and for allowing me to go full degenerate) <3

“Yuu…”  “Yuu…ji…” “Yuuji…”

Your twin’s name ambles from your petal-soft lips, voice laden with slumber, muted snores drifting through the gaps. The bedroom you share is swathed in midnight’s gloom; moonbeams peek through the cheap apartment blinds, luminous stripes cutting across the men huddled above your nude figure.  

“Our baby sister seems to be having sweet dreams,” Choso states, mouth reluctantly detaching from your nipple, a silvery thread of spider silk connecting his lips to your tender flesh. “She’s naughty, though—calling out to you when I’m the one pleasuring her.”

Choso removes two thick digits from your weeping hole, examining the twitch of your jaw as he strums your clit with calloused fingertips. He experimentally increases the speed and pressure of his caresses, humming when you let out a whimper. As your breath grows heavier and your eyes flicker and dance beneath your lids, he pauses to smear your slick across your pubic hair, and scrapes his teeth up your neck to nip at your pulse point. 

Yuuji lies beside you, honeyed gaze soaking in the tranquil curves of your dreamy expression. He strokes the hair at your temple with the care of a collector admiring his choicest possession; he can’t help but drag his nose across your cheek, blotting a kiss at the hollow behind your earlobe.  

The reverence Yuuji treats you with starkly contrasts the way his muscular body presses against your softness, his bare cock dribbling pre onto the plush of your thigh. It’s something of a punishment that Choso doled out—not being able to indulge in you fully—upset with your twin for being secretive and possessive of you. But as far as Yuuji is concerned, to be anywhere in the halo of your presence is a heavenly gift. To merely witness your divinity, to press his lowly, sweaty skin flush to yours—it’s more than he deserves. 

“Don’t be too rough with them,” Yuuji fusses when Choso abruptly presses your knees to your chest, leveling his face with your spread cunt. “W-wait—I wanna taste, too.” 

After Yuuji shuffles over to join Choso, two sets of broad shoulders hunch over to marvel at your beauty. Yuuji fully expects to be chewed out again—perhaps even shoved off the bed or thrown out of the room; he swallows his pride and formulates a half-hearted apology, prepared to grovel for a chance to revel in you.

Instead, he grunts in surprise when he’s pulled into a kiss.

Chapped, chilly lips slip against his own, urging Yuuji’s mouth open, wet muscles intertwining. A shiver skitters across his limbs when he discovers the little silver ball that pierces Choso’s tongue—now bumping along the expanse of his palate, tracing the velvet of his gums. It’s a sloppy exchange of spit and teeth and tongue, too frenzied to be mistaken as purely passionate. Choso reaches over to swipe a thumb across Yuuji’s fat, leaking cock head. Yuuji keens into his brother’s mouth before ripping himself away, swollen lips parted, blooming rose from the tips of his ears down to his heaving chest.

“Let’s taste her together,” Choso rasps.

Not waiting for a reply, he pecks the fat of your hip before dipping down to lap at the arousal leaking from your hole; Yuuji watches heatedly, letting saliva pool on his tongue and drip onto your clit. He then cleans his mess with noisy sucks, occasionally tugging at your folds. Too preoccupied with coaxing your unconscious body to orgasm, the brothers don’t realize how you begin to stir, fingers and toes flexing and relaxing. They savor your eventual high, admiring your glistening release.

“I’ll have her first,” Choso announces thickly, Adam’s Apple bobbing as he swallows. He’s practically vibrating—pale skin dewy with desire—having fantasized about this exact scenario more times than he can count. “You should prop her up.”

Yuuji leans against the headboard and pulls you between his strong legs, your head resting on his chest. Choso angles your hips and pumps his throbbing length a few times before nudging your entrance. Your breathing shallows and you yawn; Yuuji’s heart catches in his throat.

“Fuck—how much did you give them? Clearly not enough,” he hisses, arms tightening around your waist. “I think they’re about to wake up.”

For the first time all evening, Choso smiles at Yuuji. It’s an unsettling sight: his knife-sharp inscisors gleam in the dusk, irises black as bruised plums. “Relax,” he soothes. “She’s going to enjoy this, too. It will become a treasured memory for us all.”

Before Yuuji can respond, your eyelids flutter open. “Ch-Choso…Yuuji…” you murmur, words slow and slurred as molasses, “what are you—”

The air is promptly punched from your lungs, a strangled yelp interrupting your train of thought as Choso enters you in a single thrust—cock so deep you swear you can taste it. One of Yuuji’s rough palms rests on your belly and meanly presses down with the movement; you throw your head back and warble a moan.

“Call me ‘onii-chan,’” Choso grits out, refusing to succumb to the squeeze of your cunt so soon.

“W-what?” you sniffle. Your brain is foggy from whatever concoction they gave you, incapable of piecing together your predicament.

He grasps your chin firmly, forcing your glazed stare to focus on him. “Onii-chan,” he repeats with a harsh snap of his hips.

You squirm, trying to turn to Yuuji for help, unaware of the tears carving hot rivulets down your cheeks. But Choso won’t let you go. His heavy frame eclipses yours, trapping you in place. “We’re family,” he huffs, fucking you steadily, umber strands falling to curtain his face.

“Everything we do, we do together. You have both been—nnghhh—selfish. It’s time to make it up to onii-chan.” 

[hclygifs]

ADRIA ARJONA - BLINK TWICE ( 2021 ) GIF PACK

by clicking  [ HERE ] ,  you’ll  gain  access  to #86 medium gifs  of  ADRIA ARJONA (1992)  in the film BLINK TWICE that are suitable for roleplays .  she  is of puerto rican and guatemalan descent ,  so  please  cast  appropriately  when  using  these gifs . all  of  these  gifs  were  made  from  scratch by me ,  so  you  may  edit  them ,  but  please  do not  reclaim  as  your  own ! this gif pack is FREE , so we kindly ask that you just reblog/like if you use them . if not it will result in a block .

[ CONTENT WARNING: drinking , smoking , blood , fighting ]

[daemon-in-my-head]

At last, here it is. A while ago, I had the pleasure of commissioning the wonderful @lokorum to portray my beloved idiots in all of their tragic glory.

So without further ado, after months, here's the first chapter of my durgetash-centred, possibly very long, post-canon Genfic (cuz even if he's not featured in the picture, he's very much the one behind it, and yes, I said genfic but they do fuck, there's just also other themes that are more important than whatever it is those guys got going on).

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63147115

Rated M; further elaboration, summary etc behind the cut.

As per usual, please mind the tags. This is rated mature and may turn explicit depending on—let's be so fr—nothing but my mood. It IS a tragedy. I know how it ends. Trust me when I stress the tragedy part. I'm writing this story through tears at times. There's fluff, there is hurt comfort, there is true old man yaoi but there is just as much 'doves that aren't simply dead but rotten' and pain.

So to everyone who's not scared shitless yet (which is very valid), here's a summary:

The year is around 1530 DR. The once-revered and reformed Bhaalspawn returns to the city he had both saved and nearly doomed, emerging from his exile in the Underdark. Though he claims to seek only rest, the city's de facto ruler, Archduke Gortash, sees through the monster’s carefully crafted facade. Perhaps if the elf had never saved the Banite all those years ago—when he was little more than a blurred and distant memory—his own fate might have unfolded differently, perhaps even more mercifully. But regrets have long since lost their weight. The past is immutable, and all that remains—all that truly matters to him now—is the purpose that once again draws him into this treacherous den.

And on a personal note; I'm still squealing and shoving this artwork into the face of everyone I meet irl. I absolutely adore it. I'm not sure I'll be stopping with that soon. You will see reblogs.

Again. Tragedy. I mean it. There's fluffy moments, but I will absolutely exploit them to enhance the pain. I'm dead serious about Bhaal being able to learn from me. I caused his kid more agony than he could ever dream of delivering. And I haven't even shared the worst parts yet.

Edit: I also mean the psychological warfare tag. It's my guilty pleasure. And whatever over one year of obsession amounts to.

[creatively-cosmic]

PLAY DELTARUNE RIBBIT PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

[soaps-mohawk]

how many parts will the sixth part be?

Okay I'm using this ask since it's on topic

So I know I said there would be two more angst chapters (not counting this week's) before Part 7 and the fluff/comfort starts.

I've changed my mind. I'm kind of ready to get the angst over with and so in favor of yanking the bandaid off (and also not dragging things along) there will only be one more angst chapter. Chapter 34 will be the last chapter in Part 6, and Chapter 35 will be the start of the comfort/fluff aftermath.

Chapter 34 is quite the hefty beast, but I think you'll thank me for getting it all over with in one chapter.

So those waiting for the comfort, you only have to wait two more weeks instead of three.

[grawleksy]

i feel like old magma doodle is necessary at this current moment

[catwyk]

THE SILT VERSES FINALE PART 1 SPOILERS‼‼‼‼ DONT LOOK IF YOU HAVENT LISTENED

im a broken woman. this is insane to me. carpenter and hayward are alive for now..... carpfaulk reunion rapidly approaching..... val and carons heart to heart.... VALLERINA........

i dont know what to do. take these sketches. maybe theyre wips. i dont know. im messed up.

[lookforanewangle]

left with all our embers

buck + maddie; madney | 9-1-1 | T+ | 10.5k | warnings on ao3 | non-linear through mid-season 2

There are three things Maddie knows: Daemon rules are always to be followed to the letter, pinky swears can never be broken, and she loves her brothers fiercely. She’ll do anything to protect them. (There is another thing Maddie will come to know—there are some things even big sisters can’t protect their little brothers from.) or: the 9-1-1 daemon au Buckley siblings prequel edition

read on ao3

[shady-tavern]

Preview for "Making Miracles" the March Short Story

(Warnings ahead for death, dissociation and suicidal ideation, please be sure to take care of yourselves)

*.*.*.*

"The Gods provide," was the favorite sentence of your family whenever trouble brewed. Your grandparents had said it when they had been alive and your parents did as well now, as did your younger brother.

In all honesty, you had no idea if they were right or not. Sometimes it looked like the gods did provide and other times nothing but days-long hard work could even begin to solve a problem. You would like for them to be right however, simply because it would make them happy.

Your father was an upbeat, colorful man, who seemed to sing more often than not, hair long and braided and he always insisted on embroidering everyone's clothes. You loved him dearly and no matter what was going on, he always took a moment to listen to you, his soul and heart kind and warm.

Your mother was more fiery in comparison, her laugh ringing through the house like cheerful bells, her grin fierce and she never shied away from the challenges of life. No matter how busy she was, she was always willing to fight for you and the rest of her family. She made everyone around her better and brighter, just like her spirit was.

You liked to think that your little brother had been born with chaos in his heart. Your parents only laughed when you said so in a mock-grumble. In their opinion both their children were perfectly lovely. 

For all that your little brother could get on your very last nerve, especially when he was in one of his mischievous moods, you knew you could always count on him. The two of you could be real shits to each other, but absolute nightmares to anyone who dared to come after you or your family.

All in all, you led a happy life. Not always an easy one, but a good one nonetheless. When your magical abilities showed themselves when you were fourteen years old, your parents didn't hesitate to send you to a mage academy, full of pride and love for you.

Your little brother just smiled that perfectly innocent smile and asked if you could learn spells that opened doors or would turn them invisible. 

You knew that the cobbler's son had said very mean things about his best friend and he had been thinking about how to get revenge ever since. Harmless revenge at the end of the day, but still something that would make the other boy's overblown ego deflate a little.

You just patted him on the shoulder in silent agreement and then you went on your merry way.

The mage academy was both very demanding and very fun. You found two amazing best friends named Iza and Gil. They were, like you, a little daring and rather willing to experiment around. 

Magic was amazing and as long as you didn't have to rigidly follow spell instructions, it was rather easy to use. You did better with improvising compared to pre-determined, carefully selected and thought out spell casting.

Which, of course, at times bit you in the ass quite a bit. As it turned out, thinking ahead wasn't the worst idea, especially in a spar against talented, more practiced mages.

You wrote home frequently and visited during the holidays, helping your little brother get his revenge. Afterwards you showed off the spells you had learned, making all your father's flowers bloom to the point where they were the most beautiful in town and you helped your mother in her forge, carefully etching runes across steel to imbue it with a little blessing. A little magic.

A little bit of wondrousness wrapped around the mundane.

"The Gods provide," your mother said with a laugh, reaching out to pull you into a hug as she pressed a grinning kiss to your temple. "And you are certainly a gift they gave us. You and your brother both. My little god-made miracles."

"Eh," you made a mock-unsure, doubtful noise and she laughed, giving your back a pat as she returned to her work.

You left to meet up with your friends for the rest of the day, since they didn't live too far from your hometown. The three of you were thick as thieves and you loved them more than anything in the world. You could entrust them with all your secrets, your good and bad parts and they did the same. With them, no matter where you were, you had a safe place.

Yeah, life was good and it stayed good even with some harsh lessons in-between, some bad experiences and rough times. Because you had love in your life and that gave you strength and hope and you always had someone to lean on, to get a moment's reprieve, when you felt like caving in yourself. You could always wade through the dark to make it back into the light and therefore, life was good. 

And then, your little brother fell in love and you got to watch him be as besotted with someone as your parents were with each other. The young man he brought home was quite the polite, friendly lad and he clearly was just as in love with your brother as he was with him. You were quite happy for them both.

Your best friends Iza and Gil started to date each other shortly after you all came back from the holidays and you had to admit that, apparently, your people-knowledge wasn't as good as you had thought. Because you had not seen it coming, but now that they had mentioned how long they had liked each other, you did start to see it.

You couldn't help but be amused as well as relieved at how insistent they were that you had to keep hanging out with them no matter what. Your little trio would be lacking without you, they said.

Your friendship indeed remained as strong as ever and the three of you graduated as full-fledged mages, ready to explore the world and make a name for yourselves. To your surprise, you soon received a letter by one of the archmages of the north, who had selected you among a couple other graduates to come study under her. 

It was an incredible opportunity, but it would also take you away from home for at least three to five years, depending on how long you would stay. Coming back home would take too long to be worth the time you'd have off.

"A chance like that doesn't come along just any old day," Iza insisted, giving you a giddy little tap with her fingers on your lower arm. She was visibly very happy for you and she bumped your shoulders together. "Gil and I will make sure to check in with your family, so don't you worry about any of us."

With such reassurances bolstering you and everyone's insistence that, as long as this was what you wanted, you should not let such a chance slip by, you wrote your acceptance to the archmage. Your bags were packed and you were soon on your way, making your friends and family promise that they would write to you regularly.

The archmage was incredible once you arrived. She, just like you, only followed guidelines when it suited her and you had never had a better, more talented teacher. She was as demanding as she was rewarding and whenever you wrote back home, your letters were filled with your excitement about the things you had learned.

The years passed as well as they could have and while at times problems emerged that worried you, things could be resolved sooner or later. The Gods indeed provided at times as well. 

You felt like you could do amazing things on your own now and you were eager to wrap up your apprenticeship and return home at last. All that was left was presenting what you could do, the spells you had changed into something better and the spells you had invented to a gathering of the council of archmages. If they were impressed with you, if you could convince them, they might bestow the title of archmage onto you as well.

Once you received that honor, you would head straight back home. Both your brother and your friends desired to get married and they had told you they'd make sure to wait for your return. You loved them all so much, even if you never really told them that.

You were nearly done with said apprenticeship when you noticed that it had been a while since you had received any letters. How long had it been, two months? Three? You weren't too concerned at first, considering that sometimes the riders delivering their letters could be held up by a number of things.

It had once taken half a year for a letter to arrive because there had been massive flooding and the rider of the postal service had fallen sick in some backwater village where he was unable to contact the service so someone else could take over for him.

Then you heard the rumblings of war at the horizon and still you didn't grow worried. Your hometown was in a peaceful, slightly remote valley after all and Iza and Gil were there as well. Two mages could keep themselves and those around them safe from harm.

So you wrapped up your apprenticeship with a happy smile, the archmage you considered a good friend and even better mentor taking you to the council of archmages.

You were viciously nervous, but you made sure to present everything with confidence and aplomb, even if you had to fake it. You held your breath as the council discussed their decision and at last, they presented you with the title of archmage.

You just barely held back a shout of joy and the moment you and your mentor were out of the council building, you cheered loudly together, hugging each other and laughing joyfully. You had done it!

Your mentor last wrote you a glowing recommendation, in case you wished to work for nobility or in another high-ranking job and she told you to come visit her whenever you liked. Her enchanted tower would let you enter without issue.

With that thick letter in your pack, along with the certification that made you an archmage and your pride puffed up and happy in your chest, you were eager to go back home. You traveled fast, the good weather on your side and you made sure to skirt the areas where armies clashed.

You only had a vague idea why this war had gotten started – something about succession and the prince not wanting his niece on the throne, bogus like that – and you were happy to not get within a mile's radius of the conflict.

There were already plenty of mages at war as well and you had no desire to join, neither for money nor for glory.

At last you crossed into the valley where your hometown laid and as you walked faster, smiling with happy anticipation, you started to notice strange things. The hard-packed dirt road was wider and churned up, trees along the road felled and there were large campsites, long abandoned but the vegetation still struggled to recover.

And then you saw the first village and where you had expected to see old neighbors, to say hello and be greeted in return, you saw nothing but burnt-down husks.

An army had come through here, you realized and the joy curdled swiftly into a terrible feeling you had never felt before in your life. Of course you had known fear and worry, as well as self-doubt and struggles. 

But this was different. This was a nameless dread that gripped you like invisible hands, squeezing your throat tighter, kicking your heart into a faster rhythm like a startled horse, your stomach getting speared by an ice-lance of fear.

You rushed forward, your brisk walk turning into a jog at the next burnt village and then into a full-on sprint when you saw, up the hill, your hometown, blackened and nearly gone. Ash and rubble was all that remained.

You were shouting as you approached, a desperate kind of hope clawing through your veins. It felt like that hope was the only thing that kept you together, like stubborn threads making sure worn, old clothes didn't fully fall apart.

You skidded to a stop, breath catching in your lungs and for a brief moment it felt like your entire body entered some kind of stasis, your gaze stuck on the body half buried beneath blackened and charred remains of a house. The flesh was so badly burnt that not even insects or other animals had wanted to eat it.

That was the cobbler's house, a distant part of you realized and you forced yourself to keep moving.

More and more bodies laid strewn about, some torn to pieces, though you could not tell if it had been by animals or your fellow humans. Some had only left shredded clothes and chewed apart shoes behind as they had gotten devoured by wild animals. Others were nothing but bones, picked clean and chewed on.

How long...how long ago had the attack taken place? It must've been months.

You thought back to the sudden lack of letters and you nearly threw up as your stomach heaved. All this time...all this time that you had been safe and happy, playing with magic like a...like a child and your family and friends had been thrust into the middle of a stupid, senseless, needless war.

There were banners in the dirt, brown with a white, rearing horse and distantly you remembered that it belonged to the brother of the late king, who clearly had no desire to see his niece on the throne.

You felt strangely distant to your own body as you kept walking forward, like someone caught in a bad fever dream as you headed for your home. The place you remembered as standing tall and broad, having been extended twice. Once so your brother and his beloved could move into their own space together and another time so you could have your own place as well, for living and for practicing magic.

Iza and Gil had lived there in the meantime.

It took you a moment to realize you had reached your home, because it was...gone. Crushed and caved in by something that must've been magic.

Of course. Iza and Gil would not have simply died, they would have fought and even an army would struggle against two mages who worked together as smoothly as clockwork. It certainly would have allowed most people in your hometown to escape, while Iza and Gil guarded their retreat.

But if the army had mages in their employ, then nothing but ruin would remain if Iza and Gil lost.

They must have lost, a numb, distant part of you thought as you stared at your old home, flattened like cardboard stacks that a giant stepped on. Your arm felt heavy and distant, your magic felt heavy and distant, as you started to levitate the pieces, trying to find something.

You did. In a divot, like a round shield had protected them, you saw four curled together bodies. You saw the dirty, embroidered clothing, the work of your father, the carefully made jewelry your mother had gifted for birthdays and special occasions. 

Something peeled off the pieces you had floating, falling to the earth with dull thuds and you stared at the crushed and half pulverized bodies of your best friends. It had to be them, when you saw Gil's necklace hanging from a nearly shattered neck, his head gone and the other body had Iza's enchanted iron hand still stuck to her arm, which had separated from the rest of her remains when she had fallen just now.

The broken pieces of your home thudded to the ground as you dropped the levitation spell and you felt dizzy and reeling and distant and breathless all at once.

You had no feeling in your fingers when you made yourself move, carefully wrapping the bodies and casting a stasis spell, followed by a shielding spell, the same that Iza and Gil must've cast to protect your family. It hadn't been enough.

You had no idea how long you stood there or when you started to move or really what you were doing. It felt like you were drifting in and out of focus, collecting bodies, clearing roads and streets and levitating aside debris to try and find everyone.

You didn't count the bodies, but deep down, a part of you knew that no one had survived. An entire town, wiped out.

Because some people argued whose ass got to sit on the throne. What a joke.

*.*.*

If you'd like to read the whole story on march or any of my other short stories, feel free to check out my patreon or my ko-fi! Thank you all so much for your support, it means the world to me!

Additionally, you can find more of my short stories here in my masterpost! Happy reading everyone!

[honeyedmiller]

Angel

joel miller x f!reader drabble

warnings: this drabble has dark themes!! this is purely smut and it contains a knife kink and daddy kink. please heed these warnings! if you do not wish to consume this content, please do NOT read under the cut. smut contains unprotected piv, dirty talk, empty threat of using the knife!!!!! dark joel (? just in case) this relationship between joel and reader is consensual and joel was asked by reader to do this with reader. 18+, minors do not interact.

wc: 641

Joel was astonished when you’d first told him.

He was unsure. Hesitant. And oddly enough, the thought of you enjoying doing that with him turned him on, blinding him with a carnal desire that he knew was still deep inside of him.

He’d sworn up and down to himself that you’d softened him up, made him a better man after he’d met you one night at the Tipsy Bison. One smile from you—a smile that could end fucking wars—and it was over for him. You had him wrapped around your finger from that moment on.

So, when he’d asked you if there was anything in bed you wanted to give a try, something you two had never done before—he was completely taken aback at the proposal you offered: him holding a knife up to your throat as he fucked you relentlessly from behind.

And that’s how you two ended up here, with his switchblade pressed to your throat as your knees dug painfully into the mattress, him pistoning into you from behind.

Joel got a million dollar view of your ass and your arched back, his other hand engulfing your wrists as he pressed them against your tailbone. It was no use for you to struggle, even if your pleas were getting louder.

You and Joel had a safe word, and he’d yet to hear you say it, so he kept going.

“Daddy, please—”

“Wan’ me to fuckin’ press this blade into your throat baby? Hush up now n’ take what daddy gives ya.”

Your cunt gushes at his words, his empty threat sending you into a spiral of arousal. You couldn’t even think straight at this point, and Joel knew it. He also knew him being a little mean to you turned you on even more.

“Look at ya, getting fucked dumb on my cock. Can feel you fuckin’ squeezin’ me. Fuck, baby—god damnit. Gonna cum if you don’ stop squeezin’ me like that.”

You were numbly incoherent at this point, nothing but a strangled whine bubbling from your throat as your eyes rolled into the back of your skull. The blade was dangerously close to digging into your skin, but a sick, twisted fucking part of you loved the thrill of it.

Joel’s thrusts were becoming sloppy and you knew he was close. He took the blade away from your throat and gripped your hips, flipping you around so his broad body covered yours.

He was pulsing inside of you and the wild desire in your eyes nearly sent him over the edge. A calloused hand dragged up your body and groped your breast, tweaking your nipple between his forefinger and thumb before he trailed his hand up to your jaw to open it. He pressed the blade of his knife onto your tongue as he fucked into you at such a rapid pace, you fucking swore the bed would break.

“Such a good girl. My angel. So fuckin’ pretty n’ good for daddy, baby. Come with me.”

And he didn’t have to say it twice. His wish was your command, and you cried out as you pulsed around him, gushing all over the base of his cock. He grunted as he collapsed and dropped his head onto your shoulder, pulling out just in time before he came all over your stomach.

You swiped a finger over his hot spend, plopping your finger into your mouth as you looked into his eyes and sucked. You moaned at the salty taste, eyes closing in pure ecstasy.

“Christ, baby. Y’don’t know what you do t’me.” He flops down onto his side and tosses his switchblade onto his nightstand, pulling you into him.

You couldn’t help but giggle as you traced patterns onto his warm chest, the feeling of his erratic heartbeat beneath your fingertips.

“I have a pretty good idea.”

[psychhound]

[ID: a banner for a game called "you are thinking about silver". it shows a brown toned vintage photo of the moon. the top half of the moon is visible. the image is split in half, and a transparent bar in the middle has the name of the game in light tan font. end ID]

you are thinking about silver is an autofiction lyric game. this really happened, more or less. if you wish to pretend it didn't happen, you may plug your nose against the stench and think of happier things. are my family really werewolves? jury's out, i tend to believe it. it's harder not to when you've lived through the evidence. try to really play along, or don't. what's happened has happened and you rolling your dice is not going to change that. but it might make you feel better to be in control of something 

[ID: a screenshot from the game. it shows a spread of pages with the setting and witnesses section. the background is dark with light tan text. over more than half the page is a vintage tan-toned drawing of hunting dogs attacking a wolf. end ID]

you are thinking about silver was made for the literary game jam on itch. purchase includes a 20-page formatted zine, a plaintext document, and dyslexia friendly document

buy the "game" for only a dollar here

[vulptalia]

def projecting here but Alfred, who spent his whole childhood waiting for Arthur to come home, and Alfred as an adult living oceans away from the majority of his friends. Alfred who won't get close to humans any more because Davie still stings centuries later. Alfred (F)Abandonment Issues Jones