#I promise I'm writing

[dearestgojo]

I've been waiting for this comm just as long as y'all have waited for me to come back 😭

Huge thanks to @/kohee_png

[monstroum]

also i get it daniel, i would have followed him home too

[alolanrain]

I got myself a computer now! it was in hope it would get me to write more but I've been deep in the trenches of Stardew valley and cod

[pokedex-holder-pink]

[PREVIEW] Undercover in Love Chapter 13

I'm alive, you guys. And I love you.

Whi-Two sits across Colonel Rikhard, a confused look on her face as she slowly looks up from the document in front of her.

“I… Don’t understand.”

The blonde colonel smiles good-naturedly, peering at the slightly dumbfounded girl through his round, thin-rimmed glasses.

“Well, I'm not sure what more is there to explain that’s not covered by the document, dear, but I will be more than happy to try.” 

He then leans forward and taps his pen on the document, the butt of his pen hitting on the bold letters that seemed to jump out of the pages and dance around the table, not letting Whi-Two comprehend.

“This is the document that makes your acceptance as an inspector of the UPD, Aspertia Division, official!” Colonel Rikhard cheers. He tries to gauge if there was any form of understanding to be surmised from the girl’s eyes. But as they were before, her eyes were still dumbfounded.

Horror-stricken, even. The colonel chooses to ignore it in hope that he may have just imagined it.

“Of course, the logistical concerns like your uniform and your new office are still in the works, and they usually take a while, especially for sudden promotions such as this, but... The paperwork is already here!”

His kind smile grows into a beam. 

“Congratulations, Officer Rosa Bilden, for being the youngest officer to be granted inspector rank in the entire history of the Aspertia Division.”

Rikhard looks at Whi-Two expectantly, even reaching out his hand slightly to see if she has shaken her shock away, But Whi-Two does not move, and performs a short back-and-forth of her gaze from the document to the already-celebrating colonel, and then back.

Then she lets out a nervous giggle.

“S-Sir, this is an honor, but... It's all happening so fast.” Her smile fades too quickly. 

“I just got back here.”

Rikhard returns to his initial demeanor, but his good-natured smile remains intact as he lowers himself back to his chair.

“Well, yes, I do admit, there was something... atypical with the speed of the processing, but I guess that's only expected when a proposal has the endorsement of a well-respected name in the UPD.”

The girl’s eyes immediately darted forward at the realization. Rikhard does not notice.

“You know, I spoke with Inspector Lack-Two over the phone--charming young man, that he is--and he gave such wonderful reviews of your performance back at Main that it was almost impossible for the higher-ups to deny our claims to have you jump all the way to level-3 inspector. Isn’t that great?” Colonel Rikhard then sighs.

“It's just too bad things are the way they are right now. Otherwise…” The old man whistles as he looks up wistfully. 

“To be a high-ranking officer in Main... Officer Harold Biden would have been so proud of his little girl.”

Whi-Two feels her heart break a little at the mention of her father’s name. In all the chaos brought about by the past few months, she hadn’t found herself a spare minute to think about him up until now.

With all that she’s caused, what would he have made of her? Would he really have been proud?

The young officer notices that her colonel was still watching her expectantly.

She smiles ruefully at him before looking down again.

“That's incredibly nice of you, Sir, but... I'm afraid I can't share in that pride.”

Rikhard’s smile completely fades as understanding dawns on him.

Perhaps he did have to acknowledge the massive elephant in the room.

“Look, my dear. I don't know exactly what went on back in Main, and I am not the one to pry for information I am clearly in no position to know. But I am a good enough detective to know that there is more to it than what knowledge is readily available for us, and something tells me there's a lot you can say to confirm or deny that.”

He reaches forward and lands a reassuring hand on the girl’s shoulder. 

“But, frankly, my dear, none of that matters here. What matters for me, along with the colleagues you have grown with here, is that you came home a hero.”

Whi-Two feels a lump in her throat, making a small whimper escape her defenses. 

Hero.

The word made her feel sick.

Rikhard immediately stands up and goes to her, panicking at the sight of tears.

“Oh, but you really are, dear!” he claims, landing both his hands on her chair’s backrest. 

“You made such remarkable progress in the short time you were there! I couldn't be prouder. You really are our reliable rookie.”

Whi-Two takes a long, deep breath to stop herself from further losing herself. Then, with a sad smile through her already fallen tears, she looks up at him.

“With all due respect, Colonel, I am no hero. Let alone reliable. I don't deserve any of these phrases, nor do I deserve to be in a position where I lead others into a path I myself am not sure I can still see from where I stand.”

Rikhard’s smile completely fades.

“I took this job years ago because I believed in what the UPD could do for its country. My father believed in what UPD can do for its country. I wanted to be part of that effort that pulls us all from this miserable state we are in, but somehow, I made it worse.”

She feels a choke escape her, and once again, she fights it away with a sigh.

A technique she’s begun to master due to unfortunate need.

“You know, Colonel, I never got to tell you: On my way here in the subway, I chanced upon two young troopers in their uniform sitting quietly in a corner, and I could sense the tension their uniforms cause the other civilians.” 

She coughs a bit, lowering her gaze from her now worried colonel, and focuses it at the empty chair across the table from her. 

“The UPD should be a symbol of safety. Of assurance. Telling the world that as long as we're here, nothing bad can ever happen to anyone. After all, we made a vow to serve and protect--words we recite to ourselves every Monday morning. Heck, words I recite to myself every morning.” 

Tears begin to flow down her cheeks as she struggles to keep the small smile in her trembling lips.

"But today, what I saw in those civilians was fear. Dissent. Doubt. Rage. And I can't for the life of me stand here and be praised knowing full well I was a huge cause of everything that has happened that brought us to where we are.”

“Rosa, my dear…”

Rikhard attempts to reach out to her, but is stopped when Whi-Two immediately rises from her seat.

The sound of her chair screeching as it was pushed back filled the silent office for a brief moment, and was immediately replaced by the soft noises Whi-Two produces as she fishes through her purse.

To the old man’s chagrin, the young officer pulls out her badge.

“As a matter of fact, sir, I am not here to accept a new position in Aspertia. I'm actually here to return this.”

She gently puts the badge down on the table, her whole body still faced forward, her eyes refusing to meet the colonel’s pained look.

Whi-Two just focused her gaze forward. To the empty seat across the table from her.

She stared at it so intently that it was almost as if she was trying to draw in a figure.

A familiar figure.

Whi-Two could already picture his dark brown eyes looking at her in the piercing way that they did, everything else about him stiff and frozen save for his quite unruly set of brown hair, gently swaying along with him as he breathed.

She could only smile at the thought.

“It has been an honor and a pleasure working with the UPD, Sir,” she mouths gently, feeling a new set of warm tears rolling down her cheeks. 

“Thank you for everything.”

Rikhard takes a deep breath as she follows her gaze for a bit. Then he looks down in defeat.

“...I understand, dear,” he whispers, walking back to his place at his desk. He sits on the empty seat Whi-Two was focusing on, effectively waking her from her slight trance.

She feels her knees slightly buckle, making her fall softly back to her seat.

“It is a shame though. Really, it is. You don't just come across such fine police officers with your passion and skills. You will be dearly missed, Rosa.”

Then his face becomes serious.

“If you don't mind me asking…”

Whi-Two looks up at him.

“What will you be doing now?”

The question throws her a bit off. For the past few weeks or so, she had been doing a good job of dodging the question, and up until now, she was lucky enough to not have anyone--from her colleagues, her very few friends who actually know what’s going on, to even her own family--ask her about the thing she so dreads to think about.

What will she do from now?

Living your entire life following a carefully crafted plan does not really prepare you for questions like this, she realizes. 

She looks up again, and finds Colonel Rikhard still watching her expectantly, and with apparent worry.

Afraid to cause even more distress to her superiors, she churns out the first thing her head was able to give her.

“... I'd actually want to go home now, Sir.”

[connectingconstellations]

My job: Do work for us in exchange for money and health insurance.

My brain: They probably didn't say news was "hot off the presses" in 1777 because there was nothing to make the press hot

(Also my brain: why does nobody know if inoculation gave you a local injection site reaction like the smallpox vaccine scar? This detail is clearly extremely important and I am using my time very well)

[khrused-archived]

another one -- your muse stumbles upon hera mid panic attack and talks her through it uwu

[writing-forever]

About that silly little picture… here it is!

[i-love-you-all]

Hungry? Try a patented tremorbolt snack :p (mildly suggestive)

“I’m just a little tired, Aleks,” Breach said, noticing him just as he was about to pull the blankets over him. “You can go back out there if you’d like. We can still do everything else the same once you’ve had your fill.”

“No… I wanted to…” he cleared his throat. How was he supposed to broach this topic? “I’d like to rest as well.”

Breach nodded and shifted to the side giving him more space for when he got on the bed as well. Instead, Aleksander carefully started taking off his clothes, starting with the accessories and extra layers he put on throughout the day to keep Breach and the clan happy. Then, when he was in what he would normally sleep in, he paused. He wanted more than just to spend more time sleeping with Breach, but if he was tired…

“Is something wrong Aleks? You haven’t moved in a while.”

He looked over at Breach who was now watching him with a fixed stare. Even in the dim candlelight, he could see a shade in those blue irises that told him that he was starting to pique Breach’s interest.

“Actually, Erik,” the name felt foreign rolling off his tongue, but it did its job and earned him all of Breach’s attention. “If you aren’t too tired…”

He lifted his undershirt up and over his head. When he looked back at Breach again it was almost disheartening to see him laugh a little. He held the shirt in his hands as he sat on his side of the bed. “Why are you laughing?”

Breach reached over and held his hand. “I can tell that seduction is not one of your gifts, but it’s endearing.” As he was talking, he brought his hand up from Aleks’s and gently wrapped his arm around his shoulders to bring him closer. “But I like to think I’m better at it.”

Aleksander looked up at him with slightly widened eyes, still surprised that this was going so quickly. He nervously swallowed then nodded his head in agreement. He let Breach press their lips together and he just smiled when Breach turned him around and held him closer. In the moment they had to pause and breathe so they could reset, Aleksander couldn’t help but stare at him.

[beowner]

how do you look at rebecca welton and go 'i'm going to cheat on her'

[revisionsong]

Proof of new work happening on Tipping the Scales

“Uncle Vion would have liked you, Aaron. He always liked gentle people.” Aaron smiled in response to my words, sitting on the floor this time and crossing their legs beneath them. 

“Were you close?”

I paused. It was a curious question, one I’d never known how to answer, and thus enough to bring a stop to the laughter. 

[pookiesatoru]

✰ . . . minors do not interact !

gojo and you fucking in missionary makes him dangerously sensitive as it is because he feels so much love as he looks down at you. how pretty you look, how a layer of sweats coats your skin. how your hair is a mess after multiple rounds. how you’re reaching out and grabbing at any part of his body for some form of stability while he fucks your cunt. he can see how you two are a mess where you both join, splatters of your wetness and white sticky remnants of his from previous rounds. you look so stunning. so so so beautiful.

he’s on the verge of cumming every second when you fuck missionary. he adores how he can see you flutter your eyes open and look so fucked out but still gaze at him with love. he gets even more sensitive the second you run your fingers through his undercut. he's groaning, hips faltering as he visibly shivers. feeling the pads of your fingers against his undercut is one thing but feeling your nails against them? that's another. three more thrusts and he's got his balls flushed against you, letting them drain, emptying them right into you.

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to Building A Culture

Culture is defined by a collection of morals, ethics, traditions, customs and behaviours shared by a group of people.

Hierarchy and Social Structures

Within every culture, there is a hierarchy. Hierarchies are an important part of any culture, usually do ingrained that one within the culture wouldn't even question it. Hierarchy can be established either by age, gender or wealth and could even determine roles within their society. Sometimes hierarchy can may be oppressive and rigid whilst other times, ranks can intermingle without trouble. You should consider how these different ranks interact with one another and whether there are any special gestures or acts of deference one must pay to those higher than them. For example, the Khasi people of Meghalaya (Northern India), are strictly matrillineal. Women run the households, inheritance runs through the female line, and the men of the culture typically defer to their mothers and wives. Here are a few questions to consider:

How is a leader determined within the culture as a whole and the family unit?

Is the culture matriarchal? Patriarchal? Or does gender even matter?

How would one recognise the different ranks?

How would one act around somebody higher ranking? How would somebody he expected to act around somebody lower ranking?

Can one move socially? If not, why? If so, how?

Traditions and Customs

Traditions are a staple in any culture. These can be gestures or living life a certain way or to the way a certain person should look. Traditions are a personal detail to culture, they are what make it important. Tradition can dictate how one should keep their home, run their family, take care of their appearance, act in public and even determine relationship. Tradition can also be a double edged sword. Traditions can also be restrictive and allow a culture to push away a former member if they do not adhere to them, eg Traditional expectations of chastity led to thousands of Irish women being imprisoned at the Magdelene Laundries. Customs could be anything from how one treats another, to how they greet someone.

How important is tradition?

What are some rituals your culture undertakes?

What are some traditional values in your world? Does it effect daily life?

Are there any traditions that determine one's status?

Values and Opinions

Values and Opinions are the bread and butter of any culture. This is the way your culture sees the world and how they approach different life hurdles. These may differ with other cultures and be considered odd to outsiders, what one culture may value another may not and what opinion another holds, one may not. There will be historical and traditional reasons to why these values and opinions are held. Cultures usually have a paragon to which they hold their members to, a list of characteristics that they expect one to if not adhere to then aspire to. The Yoruba people value honesty, hard work, courage and integrity. Here are some questions to consider?

How important are these ethics and core values? Could somebody be ostracised for not living up to them?

What are some morals that clash with other cultures?

What does your culture precieved to be right? Or wrong?

What are some opinions that are considered to be taboo in your culture? Why?

Dress Code

For many cultures, the way somebody dresses can be important. History and ethics can effect how one is meant to be dressed such as an expectation of chastity, can impose strict modesty. While other cultures, put more importance on details, the different sorts of clothes worn and when or what colour one might wear. The Palestinian people (من النهر إلى البحر ، قد يكونون أحرارا) denoted different family ties, marriage status and wealth by the embroidery and detailing on their thoub.

Are there traditional clothes for your world? Are they something somebody wears on a daily basis or just on occasion?

Are there any rules around what people can wear?

What would be considered formal dress? Casual dress?

What would happen if somebody wore the wrong clothes to an event?

Language

Language can also be ingrained as part of a Culture. It can be a specific way one speaks or a an entirely different language. For example, in the Southern States of America, one can engage in a sort of double talk, saying something that sounds sweet whilst delivering something pointed. Bless their heart. I have a post on creating your own language here.

Arts, Music and Craft

Many cultures are known for different styles of dance, their artwork and crafts. Art is a great part of culture, a way for people to express themselves and their culture in art form. Dance can be an integral part of culture, such as céilí dance in Ireland or the Polka in the Czech Republic. Handicrafts could also be important in culture, such as knitting in Scottish culture and Hebron glass in Palestine. Music is also close to culture, from traditional kinds of singing such as the White Voice in Ukraine and the playing of certain instruments such as the mvet.

Food and Diet

The way a culture prepares or intakes or treats certain foods are important to a culture. In some cultures, there is a diet yo adhere to, certain foods are completely banned. With Jewish culture, pork is prohibited along with fish such as sturgeon, along with shellfish and certain fowl. Meat must also be prepared in a certain way and animal byproducts such as dairy, must never be created or even eaten around this meat. This is known as kosher. The way one consumes food is also important to culture. In some cultures, only certain people may eat together. Some cultures place important on how food is eaten. In Nigerian culture, the oldest guests are served first usually the men before the women. In Japanese culture, one must say 'itadakimasu' (I recieve) before eating. Culture may also include fasting, periods of time one doesn't intake food for a specific reason.

What are some traditional dishes in your world?

What would be a basic diet for the common man?

What's considered a delicacy?

Is there a societal difference in diet? What are the factors that effect diet between classes?

Is there any influence from other cuisines? If not, why not? If so, to what extent?

What would a typical breakfast contain?

What meals are served during the day?

What's considered a comfort food or drink?

Are there any restrictions on who can eat what or when?

Are there any banned foods?

What stance does your world take on alcohol? Is it legal? Can anybody consume it?

Are there any dining customs? Are traditions?

Is there a difference in formal meals or casual meals? If so, what's involved?

Are there any gestures or actions unacceptable at the dinner table?

How are guests treated at meals? If they are given deference, how so?

[comet-cadet]

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[nemesyaaa]

buffalo 66' au ! old!serial killer!rafe x young!sugardoll!reader (how they met, and their first night together.)

you were red and you liked me 'cause i was blue. but you touched me and suddenly i was a lilac sky.

warnings : lmfaooo this part always killing me but here it is....rafe being 90% of the warning part and the menace he already is, kidnapping, daddy issues, urge of sexualing your own self, slight of stockholm syndrome, dubcon, smut, dark!rafe, violence, mentions of threats, r being a missing girl, age gap, size difference, choking. rafe being mean to the reader. slight of daddy kink. sick attitude. dirty talk. attention whore. just minors DNI. (why it's bigger than my grocery list actually...). please carefully pay attention to the tags !!?

author's note : it's my first time writing a dark fic so don't expect too much 🙏🏿 you can read this without watching buffalo 66.

some girls were the trailer park princess, and others the queen of the gas station.

as the girl of the gas station, you were there all day on the road of these men much older than you, who had and drove pretty vintage cars who were literally bigger than you. those rich daddies surely had more money than your poor father who was always sitting behind the desk of his shop waiting for the night.

your father never gave you any attention, not even a look, he didn't care about what you did on your summer days as long as he never saw you. so you stayed all day at your playground queendom across from the pitiful, filthy motel where you lived. because here at least the men were looking at you.

of course they were looking at you, you always gave them something to look at with your tiny dresses that showed your naked thighs, your tits pressed together in that backless top. you always dressed in that soft and milky blue shades. as the sea and the sky, you were blue.

while their wives found you sick, you could feel their stares every time you leaned down to grab the keys that they forgot to give you each time. you could feel their eyes completely charmed by the way your summer dress rode up above your ass, and your panties stuck out.

fully bent over, you could hear the groans of these old men, the way they forced their hands themselves to not touch you when you wanted nothing more than to see them give in to the young temptation that you were.

you had a power in them and you loved to see them completely crazy.

you worked as a gas pump attendant. in reality, you did it behind your father's back because it allowed you to stay in the company of these men who only had eyes for you.

you always put on a show for them, and it always worked because you were irresistible.

but there was this guy every time, a regular customer, cold and short-spoken who never spoke to you.

he had a beautiful and luxurious car and you always wondered what job he did to drive such an incredible vehicle, and to spoil you so much with all this money.

he never said thank you for your service. after all, you were paid for it. his eyes were blue as you. he could park and glare at you for hours, sitting deep in his seat, a cigarette stuck between his opened lips.

he was so much older than you, so much to the point it was indecent. when you had first seen him, you had melted like sugar.

as you were coming back from the ice cream parlor, your lips sucking that delicious vanilla ice cream, you sat on the edge of the gas station, right in front of his car, your legs completely spread, white cream melting and dripping between your thighs. he rubbed his painful boner through his boxer.

you were sick, you let him look at you with this completely perverted stare while you let chunks of ice fall into your cleavage.

his eyes were all over you, but this time it was different, because this time it was him who was thinking about you while touching himself. this time it was him who was sick about you , him who had all these furious ideas about you. he pumped himself so hard, biting his lips harshly. and you continued your depraved show, while he jerked off, his big cock shaked and leaked in his own hand, his thick and already experimented fingers moved around his length faster and faster, the sweaty and dirty sound of his balls slapping, the squeaking noises of his chair, his arched back making the chair shaking. you thought of the veins of his dick engorged of blood pulsated against his hefty strength. that was enough to make you fully wet.

you wanted nothing more than to make this old man reach for you. but the problem was, you were too young and naive to know how mad he was, and what he really wanted to do with a pretty doll like you.

you stood up when you finished your ice cream, putting your dress back on neatly, and leaned down, leaning your porcelain princess arms over his car window.

you shuddered when he spread his cum on your face without any warning, smeared the remains of vanilla ice cream over your sloppy lips gloss with lick of drool.

he pushed his big thumb against your little mouth, pushed it into an o shape, and you closed her to start licking up the drops of his cum.

but like every time he came here, he never spoke to you. you had just seen the car leave, while you still had the taste of him on your lips. it was rude.

the next day, your father sent you out to do some groceries on a sweltering hot summer day, tired of seeing you around doing nothing. what he didn’t know was that this was probably the last time he saw you. and even shoupe that you had seen earlier in the morning, and who had told you to be careful, something with a killer around.

when you were done with the grocery, you started walking through the empty parking lot.

you thought you were alone, even though there were a few empty cars.

but it was a mistake, a terrible mistake that you were going to regret.

“didn't shoupe tell you to be careful this morning, sweetheart ? because i'm pretty sure, he did. ”

you screamed when the man grabbed you by the waist, pressing your little ragdoll body against his chest much stronger. the stranger quickly covered your mouth, and bruised your pretty lips with violence without any caring, shoved down his fingers between them to the point that you almost choked with your own breath and saliva.

“ you hurt..me…! ” you tried to say with a lot of difficulty, as his firm grip crushed against your breasts.

“ not yet actually, doll. but i promise, i will if you continue to fight. so beware, or i will fucking kill you. not a threat, sweetheart. it's a promise. “ and you knew that even god couldn't save you at this time.

you tried to bite him, but your teeth barely touched his skin. his lips hovered above your ear, you could hear his deep older voice warned you.

" bite me one more time, and i will break you. i love wrestle with you little girl, but i think you will really hate the way i fight. because when daddy fight sugardoll, he kills. and tiny things like you are so easy to wreck. and you dont want to die today, right ? you're too young for that. do you got it ? nod if you got it, yes. smart baby, understand easily that she needs to listen and not fucking run away. ”

his strength was heavy. you had stopped resisting a few minutes ago, even when he put you in his car.

he started driving, with a smirk, he looked in the rearview mirror before telling you.

“ what's the matter, sugardoll ? don't want to put a show for me, anymore ? ”

he had taken you to a shitty old motel down the road, where no one would be able to pick you up here. you knew he was intelligent, you knew it because you understood that every time he came to see you, he tried to learn more about you, but not to know you no, but to know when would be the right time to kidnap you. you knew it because he had stalked you carefully.

he had tried to tie you up while you tried to struggle one last time. but he had grabbed your jaw so violently that you felt your face shiver in his hands. “one more move, and i’ll show you how dolls are really treated, how i have no fucking bother to kill a tiny thing like you. ”

“i’m not going to run away.”

"i know.” he shushed you with a sick evil smirk. “ but it's not because you don't want to, sugardoll .but more because you can't.” he said, while releasing your jaw.

“ that's the small but important difference. i kidnapped you. do you even know what it means ? "

you started to cry, tears running down your cheeks.

“ you want a real reason to cry? fine. i can do that for you. i kidnapped you but you want to know the big part of all this? is that no one will come for you. your father doesn't love you , and that's why you work in this stupid gas station. you love the attention of these men so bad that you feel obliged to sexualize yourself to feel desired but me, i wanted you the first time i saw you. i let you do it, i let you play with them, but now it's all over. since i own you, this game is fucking over. ”

“shoupe will come after me ! ”

“but maybe you won’t be around to see it anymore.” he looked at you, and shushed your tears, while staring in your wet eyes. “ yes, i really like when you give me those tears, cry to me, little girl i'm the only men that really got you. ”

you glared at him as if he had fallen from the sky.

“ but now you have to be careful, don’t get on my nerves. i know it's hard for you, but don't do stupid things. ”

he placed your hand on his lower back, where you had felt the metallic coldness of the gun. and you shivered.

"yes, you got it. don't ever get on my nerves.”

“ how can i get on your nerves ? you don't really seems like a bad guy. more like a sweet guy ? ”

“ i'm not. and i'm not trying to be so watch your mouth. “

“ but i really think you are. can i hug you ? ”

“ try it, doll, literally try it. just try to touch me, i dare you. and i bet you will never tell me i'm the sweetest guy again. ”

“ can you at least bathe me ? ” you asked seriously.

“ jesus, do you think i'm your slave or whatever ? do you forget which position you are in ? in the captive one. so do not ask me those stupid things again. and don't try, no, never try to run away because, i can promise you that when i will find you, it will not be a pleasant time for you. and not even a little, but to the point, you will ask me to kill you. and i will be in a mood to accept your request ? yes, me. ”

you nodded as the kind and little girl you are who cannot argue against this tall man. he released your small face, and you were bathing alone. while you were taking your bath, alone in the tub, you heard rafe on the phone without being able to understand what he was saying but after that call, he left the room.

you had decided to buy some food with the little money you had at the food and drink vending machine.

with a happy smile, you went back up, hoping to please him. but you had found him on the chair in front of the TV.

“look, what…”

“i think you’re really nice. but not at your own good, sugar. ”

“ i just wan…”

“ get on the bed, now. ”

he couldn't help but relaxing when he saw how your blue dress was so tiny, already showing your soaked underwear.

" no whining. " he said as he shoved himself deeply in your tight abused cunt, your ragdoll body pressed down in the mattress, his thick stronger arms hugged your small waist, while thrusting harder and harder, your walls clenched around his fat cock. you can felt the size growing bigger in your wettering pussy, as he turned you into a real crybaby, tears flowing down your cheeks. you were caged by his beefy and muscular body on the bed, gasped on the edge. “ you wanted to act like a big girl ? then take it like a big girl. no fucking whining, i'm just giving you what you want. ”

he was literally buried inside you, snapping your hips, moving in and out. the atmosphere was hot, you felt the heat, there were trails of saliva around your mouth. “stop whining babydoll, daddy is not at his worse actually. and you don't want to see this happen.” you wanted to hate him but it was like you appreciated him being so mean to you, your pussy was dripping, your fluids drenching him, your sticky walls surrounded his girth. " yes, that's it. pull up some juices for daddy, make it easier for him to destroy you. "

everytime you runned away from him, he lifted your head with a grunt, and with a wild thrust inside of you, making you drip even more as his glistening tip reached your spot, the dirty and wetness sound of his moves echoed in the room, your body trapped against his taller one.

with a hand on your throat, you were arched to the point where he could see your wetted eyes rolled up. "try to run away again, and you will have the fucking pleasure to be a momma, as well as a missing girl. i'm not asking you to take my cock better.” he said with a threat. “ no, i'm telling you to do it as your fucking job. ”

all teary, you could bet that rafe didn't know how big he was for telling you this. you were trying your best actually. he was rutting in you, holding your tiny size with one big hand, getting so feral everytime he saw your small body twitching when he pushed himself further. your moans were loud, as your squirted more than one time on him, your dripping walls clamped his hard cock. even when your third orgasm flowed against your bulging pussy, creating a mess at the surface, he continued.

" you know sugardoll, you better work faster for my cum, because i will only stop when i will see how creampie your pussy is for my dick.”

he stuffed your puffy messy cunt, while your pumped his fingers who slidded deep down in your throat, your warm and bullied tongue fighting to not dropped them.

you slobbed more with the overstimulation. you felt like this man was insatiable. rafe loved to see you, his sugardoll in pain, taking so much for him.

when he finally stopped teasing you, and fighting himself to not cum, and clearly toying you, he exploded, making you cried out. all your body was filled with spasms.

you expected something from rafe when he pulled out, a little soft spot, or at least, just one look but he just went to the bathroom. alone.

you expected him to be sweet for you, like the sugar you were for him. and you knew, that you will work for this later.

when he came back, you looked at him, always attracted by his charisma, the way he made you felt so tiny by his big size, the way he was old enough to make you feel like a little girl, just the way his raised voice made you feel so small.

“ can i sleep with you ? ”

“ whatever. just don't touch me. ”

“ you're not gonna be my big spoon ? “

“ what the fuck is this ? i'm not gonna be your spoon. jesus, can you just sleep and not ask for any stupid things that you think i will do because you're already so obsessed with me ? and give me your hands. ”

he tied them up on the bed with your little blue ribbon.

“ just in case you think you can escape me. ”

“ i can't sleep like that ! ”

“ i fear it's not my fucking problem, sugardoll.”

“ fine. i will talk and talk all night. ”

“ i can fuck you all the night too. but one of us will not survive this. so stop being so damn annoying. ”

“ what if i want to pee in the middle of the night ? ”

“ you're strong enough to hold it. and you fucking better be strong enough to hold it. ”

“ why are you so mean to me ? why you kidnapped me ? ”

“ sugardoll, listen to me. look at me, yes. eyes on daddy right now. i swear, and you need to listen carefully because i will tell you once, just once, so your dumby brain need to pay attention, if you're talking another time, even if i see your lips moving, just a twitch, i will put my dick right in your mouth, making you suck it for without a break until the sun rises again. and i can promise you that after, you will never talk to me because you will never be able to open that mouth again. do you got it ? nod your head if you got it, doll.”

and you nodded.

as a doll, you were conditionned to listen to your owner, even if he was so mean to you. but you were as soft as sugar, always melted around, already thinking he was the best guy around.

“ sweet dreams, sugardoll. ”

i promise one day i will write something very good, just give me a chance. i think the only sweet thing in this work, it's rafe calling r " sugardoll ", he's so mean please 😭😭 i think i make him a little too dark to the point, i'm questionning about how he can be sweet to the reader now ????? but i guess, it's part of the game. tysm @bunnyrafe and @fae-of-prey me a lot !

[ofswordsandpens]

thinking about a world in which RR actually committed to the path he set Percy on in hoo (wherein Percy has become jaded, angry, and resentful at the gods for breaking their sworn promises, is frequently sympathizing with Luke, is getting more and more powerful, and frequently losing himself to wrath) and instead of the subsequent Percy Jackson books being about getting recommendation letters, we could have gotten a trilogy exploring a fallen hero arc for Percy (that would ultimately have a positive resolution to it.)