#Choose you own adventure poll

[aylacavebear]

Upcoming SPN Fanfic - Get Involved

So, I got a crazy idea thanks to a meme I saw on Facebook. I'd love to get as many people involved as possible, as I really think this one is going to be tons of fun. If you'd like other options added, please share those in the comments, and I'll see if I can add them after this is shared.

This is going to be a choose-your-own-adventure story, so it will be set up differently than the other fics I've written thus far. Instead of having a chapter to go to next, you'll have a choice at the end of each part you choose to go on. Is there a possibility the reader will die, yes, yes there is.

Also, there will be the beginning options: - In the SPN world & know about monsters. - In the SPN world & don't know about monsters. - In a regular Earth dimension and SPN is a show.

So, keep those in mind when picking what you'd write. Also, if there are other things you'd write, I'd love to hear those in the comments as well. I can always set up other polls for other things with this story, as it wouldn't be worth writing without having people read it and enjoy it.

I really would love to get as many of my wonderful readers involved as possible. I haven't started writing this one yet, as I have a couple other fics I'd like to finish before I start this one. It's going to be a wonderfully fun project to take on, and my posts for it will also be set up differently.

All of you are absolutely wonderful, and I love sharing my stories with you, hearing your feedback, and seeing the hearts and the reblogs. I may be a writer, but I have no words to express my appreciation for your support on this amazing platform. <3

Forever Tag List: @roseblue373

[hanasnx]

⋆˖⁺‧₊𓆩𓆩 ❝ stranded. ❞ 𓆪𓆪₊‧⁺˖⋆

-ˏˋ꒰ CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE - ! ꒱ PART ONE ✩ PART TWO ✩ PART THREE MINORS DNI 18+ SUMMARY: be a part of the story! vote on the poll at the bottom. WARNINGS: your vote affects how the story continues | the winning decision affects how the story ends | f!reader | eventual smut | semi-established relationship | romance | suggestive | eventual conflict.

! ── PREVIOUSLY: You and ANAKIN SKYWALKER are stranded on a seemingly deserted planet. He asks you how to proceed because he trusts your judgement.

You consider his question, rubbing your bottom lip thoughtfully with your finger. The responsibility he’s given you is not one you take lightly, and you phase through the options until you decide the smartest route. “Where’s your communicator?”

Anakin's lips press together as he nods. It’s uncharacteristically submissive of him to relinquish control like that, and part of you wonders if this is his way of calming your nerves caused by the situation. He retrieves the communicator in question from his sea of robes, and when his gloved hands brings it to both of your views, it sparks.

He flinches, protecting his eyes from the device if it sees fit to explode in his hand. Fingers fiddle nimbly with its buttons, and its silence doesn’t bode well for your plans. You approach him, watching the little mechanism sit idly in the palm of his hand. “Can you repair it?” you ask, peering up at him. He doesn’t look at you.

“We’ll have to find out.”

As he works on it, you lose track of time, but the sun does not forgive. It beats down on the two of you as you try to shade yourselves in the minuscule shadow of your totaled ship. He remains in his uniform, and beads of sweat fatly roll down his forehead. That concentrated crease in his brow makes him look older than he actually is, glaring down at the communicator as he pinches wiring together with his meticulous touch. You swallow, mouth dry, and you incline into his direction.

“Anakin, maybe you should shed some layers—“ you begin to suggest, laying a familiar hand on his arm. He tenses under your contact, and perks up at attention to hear someone call out.

“You two look a long way from home.” a gutty and baritone voice leers, and Anakin’s jaw sets. His lightsaber is hidden from view by his robings. “Did’yer ship take a tumble?” The joking tone goes unappreciated as the two of you raise your heads to see a native of the planet. Relief washes over you that you aren't alone, but Anakin does not seem convinced, wary this local is unfriendly. He's seated high up on an animal with flat feet and spindly legs, one you don't recognize at all. Its trunk is stout, and wiggles absently as it disinterestedly awaits its owner to decide on whether or not to pass on. The native wears thin clothes with a strap across his chest, the bag of water sloshing at his side as he swings to a halt against his hip.

"Engine failure." Anakin replies, vague and curt. It's a lie, and one you bite your tongue on correcting. Your eyes meander the large stranger, a flat bedded wagon with heaps of fabrics is hauled by his mount, but you know those veils are just to conceal whatever he's got underneath them. "Is there a town around here?"

The local leans forward on his saddle, propping himself up on the grip with an amused and removed grin. "Naw, not for miles." Out of the corner of your view, Anakin's hand slowly disappears under his robe. "Why don't you climb aboard? I'll take you in. S'long as I get what's left of yer ship."

Anakin glances to you, but ultimately decides he'll work on the communicator during the ride. His saber remains clipped to his belt, hidden. However, his senses aren't dulled. There's something about this stranger that tells him he can't get too comfortable, but this is progress. Regardless if there's a town at all. The two of you collect the emergency supplies from the vessel, and climb aboard the wagon. It sinks into the sand from the extra weight, but when he spurs his mount on, she doesn't have a problem in tugging it.

"Sorry I didn't introduce myself, the name's Drice. S'lucky I came through, followed the smoke trail of your ship. Can smell it on the two of you." You and Anakin exchange eye contact, silently agreeing he'll be talkative the entire trip. "Yep, this nose never lies." His finger raises to tap-tap the side of his nostril. "What were y'all headed for? Before, y'know, the 'engine failure.'" You furrow your brows at the way he quotes the statement, as if he's suspicious Anakin was dishonest. "I could'a taken a look at it if it didn't have such a rough landing. S'lucky I want the parts. I'm a mechanic by trade."

Anakin doesn't respond, instead fishes out the communicator to continue his inspection. Its guts spill out, and he carefully pools it onto his lap. "The Adega system." he replies, again another lie.

Drice emits a noise of confusion. "That's a long way to travel for a ship that size."

"That's likely why we crashed." Anakin responds, and you can hear in his voice that growing annoyance.

The reticence from the back of his vehicle unnerves the local, and he continues to try to muster up some conversation. "You two are real cute together, y'know. A real pair. How long have y'all been together?"

Anakin's gaze flickers to you.

@HANASNX 2024 | do not copy, plagiarize, or steal.

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 7!!!

Beginning|| Previous || Next

It will not surprise you at all, dear Reader, to learn that Aziraphale keeps very little in his kitchen cupboards. There is no stove or oven, and the only thing in the fridge is milk (for his tea no doubt). When you start opening cupboards, you find one pack of custard creams, and a second one of chocolate digestives. Well, it will have to do. You find yourself a small plate and fill it half and half before heading back into the shop just in time to say goodbye to Anathema and Newt.

As they leave, you turn to the supernatural entities in the room.

“So,” You say, “If we’re going to the States, then we have a few problems. First, I don’t have my passport or any ID at all, so airport security is going to be fun. Second, I have no money. Third, I’m gonna need a Walmart or something because I don’t even have a toothbrush, my dudes. Fourth, these,” You indicate the cookies, “are fine for a snack, but overall they’re not gonna cut it.”

“You just leave the airport security to us,” Aziraphale replies. You make a note that he glided right past ‘my dudes,’ they’re getting used to you already. Dammit. “As for the rest of it,” Aziraphale continues, “I suppose a trip to Tesco’s is in order.”

Crowley produces a shiny black credit card from nowhere and hands it to you. “We’ll take the Bentley,” he says. He starts to stand, but you shake your head.

“Nuh-uh, you both stay here,” You say. Crowley raises his eyebrow.

“You realize we can take care of ourselves,” he says, “We’ve been doing it for a few millennia.”

“I’m not talking about that,” You say, “Look, what we’re going into is really dangerous. And I know that your pattern is to just wait to talk about things until you’re in the clear, but that’s not a good idea anymore. I mean, I get that I’m not exactly an expert, but I read just as much as you do and I’ve heard a million stories by this point in my life, and in NONE of them do people ever say ‘I’m so glad I never told them how I feel’ - you know? It’s always ‘I wish I would have’ or ‘I should have told them every day.’ So Muriel and I will go ask Maggie to take us to Tesco, and you two need to talk. Please. While it’s safe, while you have the chance, before things get dangerous and possibly deadly.”

Crowley and Aziraphale are silent. You notice that they aren’t looking at each other. Well, you’ve done your best. Now you need to trust them.

At this point, dear Reader, you are probably thinking to yourself ‘well I would snoop and spy on them while they talk! I want to watch them make out!’ But here is the thing – in this world they are real people, not characters. It’s one thing to say that you would creep on them from the other side of this fiction, but when they’re very real and looking at you in person, things are a little different. For one thing, you realize that real people deserve things like boundaries and privacy, especially for sensitive conversations.

And so, you take Muriel over to Maggie’s shop, where you explain that Mr. Fell has sent the two of you on an errand and you need to stop for dinner somewhere and have no idea where anything is. You flash her the credit card and say ‘It’s all on me,’ and she conveniently agrees with a look on her face that says something like ‘least they could do after all that shit they put us through.’

So the three of you go for dinner at the nearest Weatherspoons, where you and Maggie eat while Muriel watches in morbid fascination. Then you all take the bus to Tesco where you buy yourself a small wardrobe, and manage to coax Muriel into some light blue jeans and an argyle jumper so they look a little less like the Beacon of Gondor. You quickly find out that Muriel has an adorable fascination with fuzzy socks, novelty mugs, and coloured pencils. Of course, you enable their fascinations with a happy heart, and as an afterthought, you grab them a small pot of orange daisies from the flower section. It will give them something alive to tend to while you’re gone. Muriel appreciates the thought. All in all, it’s a long but good time.

You don’t know about the talk, and you’re worried about asking when you get back.

THAT BEING SAID

You and I, dear Reader, not actually being in that world, are allowed certain privileges.

The bookshop is silent for a long time. Both of them are thinking, digesting, processing. Feelings are hard to feel, and harder to put into words. Especially when it has been made clear, twice now in the span of a number of hours, that you absolutely need to put them into words.

It isn’t until after Crowley notices you, Muriel, and Maggie heading down the street that he stands up and begins to pace. A few more minutes pass before he speaks.

“So...uhm...are you going to go first or should I?”

“Are we...are we actually going to do this? Have this talk I mean?” Aziraphale has been shelving books to try and take the edge off. Now he puts down the book in his hands and absent-mindedly fidgets with his ring.

“Well, I mean we don’t have to,” Crowley says, aiming for non-chalance and missing ever-so-slightly, “No one can actually make us.”

“Yes, except it feels very much like everyone is trying to.”

“Trying is the key word there.”

“That’s true enough I suppose.”

The silence returns and stretches. It is anything but comfortable. The air is full of words that they have been told they should say, words that perhaps they want to say, but words that have been dammed up with fear and uncertainty for so long now that they’ve become very hard to un-stick. After a while, Aziraphale clears his throat and speaks.

“I, erm, I suppose you had better go first.”

“Me, right, okay.” Crowley clears his throat now and stops his pacing near the desk. He looks down at the scattered papers and books, the pens and photos and newspaper clippings. The assorted clutter of Aziraphale’s life. Looking away makes it easier to start. He takes a breath. “Um..right...well...we’ve known each other a long time. We’ve been on this planet a long time – you and me, I mean. I’ve always been able to rely on you, and you’ve always relied on me,” another breath, “We’re a team, yeah? A group of the two of us. And...erm...we pretend that we aren’t. Always have. Safer that way I guess.” He looks up at Aziraphale. The angel isn’t looking at him, but he nods anyway to show that he’s listening. Crowley continues. “And I mean...I’ve tried not to think about it much before but...but it would be nice, I mean, UGH” He takes off his sunglasses and rubs a hand over his eyes as though he can massage the words and make them easier to say. “I mean, I would like to spend...mmm….I would like to spend the rest not pretending anymore. Be an us. I mean,” suddenly the dam breaks, and Crowley finds the words come tumbling out, “If Gabriel and Beelzebub can do it, we can. We don’t need Heaven or Hell, they’re both toxic. We can be an us, on our side. You and me. What do you say?” He looks at Aziraphale without reservation now. His angel looks back at him, eyes wide. When he does speak, it’s with a smile and a small nod of acknowledgment rather than agreement.

“That was very well done Crowley,” he says. This isn’t an answer.

“Nnyeah, thanks. Your turn though.”

“Right, I suppose it is.” Aziraphale takes a moment to gather himself. After hearing Crowley be so open about this, he feels more resolved himself to do this properly. He faces Crowley and folds his hands to keep himself grounded. “Crowley,” he begins, “I...I wish that this conversation were happening under better circumstances. Although it’s been pointed out that ideal circumstances aren’t a promise that we can wait around for. Well, the thing is that I would like the same thing. Very much in fact. My biggest concern by far is for your safety because, well, frankly I don’t see the point in saving the world again if you’re not around to enjoy it with me. An us, as you said. You and me.” He smiles. Crowley smiles.

“Guess we’d better save the world together then. And try not to die.”

“Yes, quite.”

“Aziraphale?”

“Yes, Crowley?”

“You’re my angel. No one else.”

“And you, my wiley serpent. No one else.”

The shop bell dings.

“We’re baaaaaack!” You sing as you waltz through the door, shopping bags in hand. Muriel follows after you, carefully carrying their daisies. “Did you miss us?”

When you eventually get the courage to ask them about their talk later, you get a “ngk” from Crowley, and a “We’ve said all that needs to be said, for now.” from Aziraphale. And that, you suppose, will have to do.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

Beginning|| Previous || Next

[seealandraw]

Welcome to my choose your own adventure webcomic! How it works: I will be posting this concurrently on twitter (seealantweet) and webtoon where I will run polls. Feel free to vote there, or cast your vote in the comments of webtoon. All votes will be compiled together after a week and then i will start the next update. Let’s have some fun!

[sillyguystrawb]

DISCOVERY.

Ticci Toby and Reader scenario — Choose your own adventure style poll.

Notes: I'll only continue the story with the most favored answer in the poll, I just feel like doing this lol. This won't be nsfw at any point, and I'll keep each part of this short and sweet :)

(Part 2 Here,)

TW for this part: Imprisonment

It is about 11:42pm, and the weather is clear as you stand outside the abandoned house.

You were dared to go into the old abandoned place, your friends say they have something to show you in it that can't wait until day, but they insist you go in alone.

After some peer pressure you do it, bringing a flashlight with you. You investigate some rooms, and finally head to a room on the top floor of the house, empty except for a broken window, glass on the floor, and one other thing.

Toby. Who is laying on the floor, hands and feet tied and mask on. His goggles were thrashed off beside him. He is glaring up at you with a HAUNTINGLY angry and cold stare and is dead fucking silent. Blood covers his hands, hoodie, face, and jeans like he'd torn something previously alive into pieces.

[brynn-lear]

Case File: Missing Person Investigation

Victim:  (Y/n) (L/n)  

Date reported missing: 04/20/2024  

Reported by: Jelena "Topaz" ███████, close friend.  

Circumstances: Suddenly went missing before reaching the airport, hasn't left the country. Missing for more than 72 hours when authorities were notified.

Possible Motive/s:  

- Unknown.

Victim's Background:  

- An overseas immigrant worker from ██████, registered Penacony citizen for 3 years.  

- Full fledged human, no remarkable hybrid bloodline.  

- Moved near Clockie Memorial, Penacony City to start the Dreamjolt Cafe. The cafe is heavily supported and funded by retired famous actress, Siobhan.

Possible Suspects:

1. Gallagher  

   - Description: Victim's flatmate, canine hybrid, possibly a former bloodhound detective.  

   - Relationship: Lives in the same apartment with the victim. Home is located besides the cafe.  

   - Circumstances: Unlikely to leave shared home to kidnap or attack (Y/n) due to surveillance footage.  

   - Suspicions: Suspicions were raised by Jelena but her accounts are shaky and not conclusive.

2. Sunday  

   - Description: Penacony senator.  

   - Relationship: Alleged arguments with the victim regarding cafe spot.  

   - Motive: Possibly interested in victim's cafe spot for the capital's town hall extension.  

   - Denial: Claims cordial and friendly relationship with (Y/n).

Relevant Information from Witness: Ms. Robin:  

- Sunday's Visits: Contradictory statements regarding visits to the cafe near closing time. Sunday often happily remarks prior to (Y/n)’s disappearance that he fondly enjoys listening to them talk. Close friends and regulars corroborate the opposite as he had “never visited the cafe at night.”

- Gallagher's Popularity: Adored by customers, the victim often jokes about him replacing them as owner/barista when they retire. Gallagher declines all their proposals. 

- Relationship Status via Prof. Ratio: Victim is “not dating anyone, not looking to date”. Prof. Ratio was very adamant that they were not lovers with Gallagher or Sunday.

- Sunday's Opinion On The Victim: [Audio file attached]

“I'm not sure why you're suspecting me, Robin. Even though (Y/n) thinks little of me, I enjoy their company very much. I have never met someone who has passionately disliked me as much as they do. I wouldn't want to start missing that voice.”

- Family Bond via Kakavasha: Victim has strong bond with family, unlikely to elope. As the family's “breadwinner”, there is pressure for them to send financial assistance.

- Digital Disappearance: All of the victim’s accounts are offline, unreachable by phone.  The Cyber Investigations Division has yet to find their cell's last known location. Investigator “SW” is assigned to this case.

- Rumors of human trafficking: Word is spreading that there has been a series of other missing people in the area. Some claim a mafia is involved.

- Rumors of rigged election: Mr. McCoy has been implicated in the ████ elections for his role of (allegedly) manipulating the vote count in Penacony City to favor Senator Sunday.

My personal notes:  

04/20/2024: The investigation is ongoing with focus on Gallagher and Sunday as potential suspects. Further inquiries and evidence collection required to determine the whereabouts of (Y/n) (L/n).

They removed me from the fudging case and now I can't do any flipping poop about it. Hecking suspicious that they're so tight-lipped  about some cafe owner's disappearance. Ain't no way something political ain't involved here. They won't let just anyone in. They even have the audacity to get Agents Kafka and Yingxing to look for em. Robin thinks Sunday has something to do with it and now the little bird thinks about partnering up with me. I can't shake her off. Annoying, but I don't want to just do paperwork. Gotta do some legwork for fun.

04/21/24: Gallagher looks like he's genuinely confused by what's happenin. But as an ex-cop (?), he's doing a darn commendable Watchmaker Award worthy job of hiding it. Ya'd think he'd be very aggressive, but the old dog's warming up. Slightly. Dunno. He's being kind of a son of a nice lady about this and I have a stinkin' feeling he's going to try and investigate this matter on his own.

04/21/24: Robin isn't feeling well. I wonder why?

Chapters

1) The First Meeting

[claiborneart]

You paddle out to a pillar, and lick it.

compared to the water, it feels almost warm to the touch.

When you lick it you taste salt¹, and a faint, familiar aftertaste that you can't quite place.

Your tongue sticks to it slightly, as you pull away.

now then,

What do you do?

1 - the water tasted completely fresh, in case you were now wondering.

[salty-an-disco]

(Explore) First, I wanna know about this princess I’m supposed to slay.

What an odd choice, isn’t it? A story of a hero and a princess in which the hero is tasked with slaying said princess. But doesn’t that flip in the script make it all the more intriguing? What kind of princess is this that needs slaying

Or perhaps… she really is just a regular old princess, and that, by itself, is threatening as a monarch is an inherent evil for the world as a whole.

Oh, apologies, you’re probably looking for a more objective answer rather than these musings. Well, I’m afraid I can’t tell you much, that would spoil the story! A narrator of my caliber would never do such a thing. Critical information shall only be provided when the time is right.

Anyway… as much as this chit-chat has been a nice change of pace for me, this isn’t really doing much in terms of progressing with the story, is it? It’s my job as a narrator to move the narrative along and keep it from slogging, and I’m afraid we’re getting too close to slog territory, and I can’t let you keep slogging it up.

So– Hmmm. Let’s see…

[killerpancakeburger]

Silly "interactive" teaser for Pull Me Closer:

(Final part of my depressed!civilian!reader x Soap series, which includes Breaking Point and Knight in Shining Khaki)

*A wild Soap appears*

You use Avoidance.

"It's not very effective..."

Soap noticed movement.

You have activated Soap's thrill of the chase skill.

Soap is now chasing you.

[lottiecrabie]

choose your own smut adventure. part nine – matty healy

previous. start.

Matty’s mouth meets yours. His fingers dig into your thighs, as if he feared that you would melt between his limbs and disappear in the lines of his palms. It’s a greedy kiss, tongue coaxing the raw need out of you, the coiling desire you’ve never reached before. You’re surprised there’s still something left in you to awaken, but not surprised it’s him that shakes it up.

You’re exhausted, half delirious, clinging onto him like you’re not fully sure he’s real, but he kisses you like it’s the last time — and it might be, and it should be — and you think you might die on the spot if he’s not inside of you.

“Matty,” you whine, clawing at his shoulders. The tone is clear. He takes a few brittle steps, kissing and licking and nipping at your cheeks and neck, any skin he can reach and leave sweet love on. You giggle, pressing into him, shaking him off. 

He walks over to your desk, throwing a look past your shoulder, then back to you. He arches an eyebrow. His eyes are hungry and impatient, but still he takes the time to ask, “D’you mind?” 

You turn back, peering behind you. Your desk is neatly arranged, papers and pens in their proper spot, a meticulous system you’ve obsessively perfected. You flip back to him, catching his lips. “Fuck no.”

Matty chuckles in your mouth. One hand leaves your thigh and he reaches an arm blindly behind you, pushing away your careful construction. It shatters to the floor. You don’t even have the mind to care about the mess. Notes mix together on the floor, a meshing of dates and lessons that will take hours to undo, and you just kiss him harder, smile slack and happy against him. 

He drops you on the desk. He’s too gone to be careful, delicate. He climbs his hands to your hips, grips them with greedy, bruising fingers. Slides between your thighs, hard and ready. 

“Please,” you moan from the back of your throat, trying to show you’re just as ready, as though the sopping mess between your legs wasn’t indication enough. “I can’t wait anymore.”

Matty lines himself up with your entrance. He grinds against your clit, smirking on your cheek as you hitch your breath and shudder. “Matty, I swear to fucking God—” You start, ready to threaten him with anything— everything— if he dares tease you again. 

He enters you with one quick thrust. Your head falls on his shoulder, words dying in your throat, and all you can manage is a drawn-out cry. Relief spreads through you, heat following behind it dutifully. He’s so right— inside of you, around you, with you. 

“You swear what?” Matty teases, bucking into you, making your mind melt down your spine. You shake your head on his shoulder. He laughs; it resonates, settles in your heart. “Got nothing to say?”

You hum. “I do,” you pant out. “Harder.”

Matty has another laugh, but he complies. He thrusts quickly, hitting the perfect spot inside of you, the one that has you screaming and clawing at him. Ecstasy swims through your body. You can’t believe pleasure this great, this intense, this true exists. How you’ve been missing out. 

The desk rocks furiously. You’re overwhelmed, brain leaking out of your ears. His name chants from your mouth, a plea, a reverence. You bite his shoulder to hold back the screams, to reattach yourself to reality. Matty’s hips stutter inside of you. 

“Fuck,” he moans. You giggle, releasing his skin and kissing it, over and over. He grabs your cheeks, digs you out of his neck. His hands rake through the sweaty mess of your hair. To see you better. To kiss you. 

It’s a sloppy thing, wet and lazy and filled with the pathetic sounds you both can’t swallow down. He’s relentless between your thighs, searching that final fatal end like a dedicated devotee. 

Matty breaks from your mouth, panting, “You’re perfect.” Pride circles your head, leaving you dopey. “My best girl,” he repeats, worships. “You were made for me, weren’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod slackly. 

“Just for me.” And it’s true. It thrums in your chest, how perfect this all feels. You’re left wondering if it’s not so much about what you know, but who you’re doing it with. If the meticulous, precise list is useless when you’re holding Matty between your greedy arms. 

He kisses your cheek, then pushes your shoulder until your back lays on the desk. He presses you there, fucking you harder, grinning down at you like he knows.

“Are you gonna come?” He says, cheeky. You moan. Your head rolls on the desk. “Gonna come all over my cock?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, choked from his quick strokes. “Shit, Matty.”

His thumb finds your clit. He rubs at it with little technique, just his focused aim of making you break apart. “Do it,” he half-demands, half-begs. “Come on, baby. Come for me.”

Your face scrunches. You reach for his working wrist, gripping it vengefully, just to touch him. Just to feel him as your body snaps and you finally come. A scream bursts from your lips, his name deformed and reformed on your tongue. Euphoria spreads through you until you might choke from happiness. 

Matty bends down to kiss you. He thrusts into you sloppily, a messy pattern as he gets closer and closer to his own release. “I’m gonna—” he warns, breathless. You dig your fingers into his hair and tug. He rips from your mouth, whining against your lips as he finally comes. 

You hold him there as he spills into you, sliding in and out a few times to ride out his orgasm. He’s flushed and sweaty, and he falls on you with a satisfied sigh. You stick together. You stick together.

You caress his hair as you both come down from your mountain high. You’re drowsy and satisfied. Thoroughly, thoroughly satisfied. Years of stress have spilled out of you and you lay there, on your desk, your life a mess on the floor, and you can’t find any other emotion in you but happiness. A disbelieved giggle slips out of you. 

“What?” Matty mutters against your neck, still catching his breath. 

“Nothing,” you say. A smile shines on your face. Matty’s eyes flick towards it, then he grins, too, catching them for a quick kiss. He leaves it just to kiss your cheek, your temple, your forehead.

Your legs are sore, hanging from your desk limply. You make a little grimace, saying, “Maybe we should move.”

[eightfoldslibrary]

Prompt: Isabel feeds Eightfold a couple of Choose Your Own Adventure books and Eightfold unlocks a new ability.

Option 1: Eightfold can forth wall break, knows she’s in a comic and about the alt text jokes

Option 2: Example is when the path splits in a Choose Your Own Adventure book and instead of going fully with the first choice, you check both paths and choose the one where the character DOESN’T die

Option 3: Exactly what it says on the tin, Eightfold is a New York Times best selling author

[c0untry-mouse]

Happy Horny Sunday besties!

This week's edition of

You Don't Go Here, But It Doesn't Matter

is a Choose Your Own Adventure mystery...

Behind door number 1 we have ...

Desperate Measures by aliciameade

and door number 2 leads to....

It's got Best Friends and Roommates to Friends with Benefits and possibly more. It's got big servings of delicious denial. It's got "locked down together vibes" it's steeped in exhibitionism/voyeurism kinks. It's 36K words of steadily building tension and escalating filth.

Need a Hand by RaeDeMagdon

It A/B/O but only lightly, could just be read as G!P. It's short and filthy with a medical setting and it's from the Dick-Haver POV.

[sillyguystrawb]

DISCOVERY.

Ticci Toby and Reader scenario — Choose your own adventure style poll.

Notes: Option 2, "Prompt him to talk, somehow." won the last poll! Here's the next part :)

Part 1 Here

TW for this part: blood, imprisonment

You step closer to him, nervously, only stopping because he shifted away from you as you did so. His dark eyes glared daggers into your soul, and despite his position of being bound, you made the decision not to risk getting hurt by this guy. Instead, you opened your mouth and spoke.

"Who are you? What's going on?"

He scoffed through his mouthguard, and rolled his eyes dramatically before wiggling into a sitting position, giving you a better view as he moved of just how much blood covered this guy. Handprints in blood smeared across the bottom of his jacket, and splatters went across his face and chest.

"Here I-I thought you'd h-have answers t-too." His voice was low, a slight growl to it that told you he was livid and grinding his teeth in frustration. His eyes scanned you up and down, almost invasively somehow as he looked over your body. Was he looking for something, checking you out, or analyzing you in some other way? It was impossible to tell through his unreadable expression.

"I'm (y/n), are you okay?" You had to ask given his position, if he needed medical attention you couldn't ignore it. Even if he was sort of terrifying. The man's neck cracked violently before he sighed a response.

"T-Toby, and I-I'm doing fantastic. Never b-better, really." His stuttered sarcastic comment finally got him to peel his eyes from you, glancing around you and the room. "H-how did you find m-me?"

[mango-meister]

We’re gonna try this again because every one voted for each division equally last time.

You have a space bag.

Next

[claiborneart]

You lean over the side and look down into the water.

The ground looks like ice but feels sturdy and easy to walk on.

When you look over the side, you can see the water appears deep and still.

When you look closer, you think you see lights in the water, far below you.

[salty-an-disco]

(Explore) Why do I get stuck with a new narrator? Where’s the one for this story?

Hrng. The second time is somehow more startling than the first.

But hey, no need to snap at me. I’m just as confused as you are! I’ve no clue on the whereabouts of this story’s narrator, maybe they accidentally lost this story and I happened to find it thinking it was Stanley’s story.

Or maybe we both switched our assignments while bumping into each other in the Narrator Headquarters.

(Just to make it clear: this was a joke. There is no narrator headquarters, we all work independently from each other. Or, at least, I do. Hm. What if there is a Narrator Headquarters? Why haven’t I been invited to it then? No, no, there isn’t. I’d be invited if there was.)