#I’ve just been having issue with the app I use to make them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saetoru · 8 months

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this blog is now archived !! find my MASTERLIST here !!

hi guys, and here’s a long overdue post that i wanted to take the time to make after collecting as many screenshots as i can for a lot of rumors that i think need to be addressed. before i do that, i wanted to apologize to all of my mutuals who ended up wrongfully harassed in their inboxes for simply knowing me—the irony of this issue being about bullying all the while people on this app have been simultaneously being genuinely awful to other writers who have zero involvement has been ridiculous.

i would’ve made this post sooner, but december was very busy—as you all know, i’ve been working with two separate companies for my capstone projects, and i had final presentations with boards to worry about. and then a cruise which was fun, but i was offline. now that i’ve finally had time to enjoy my break and collect my thoughts, i’d like to voice my own side to the discourse i’m sure you’ve all seen posted by @/garoujo, who is now @/gojoath.

first and foremost, i’ve been on tumblr for almost 4 years now, and while i may not have the brightest moments on here (no one will be spot-free in that amount of time), i’d like to think that if i actually went out of my way to vicious or bully people, this would’ve come to people’s attention a lot sooner. i’ve had a relatively large following across all 6 of my blogs in my time here, and while i don’t like to get into the metrics of my blogs, the reason i point this out is because i have willingly started my blog over 6 times. 3 of these were sfw blogs under my nickname tee, another 2 of which were my previous nsfw blogs under a different alias, and saetoru which is the current one, where i finally decided to combine my sfw and nsfw writing into one space. i just wanted to bring that up because i had quite a habit of leaving and restarting blogs before this one, and had i been obsessed with outperforming other writers in terms of follower counts, i would not have left the previous ones as often as i did.

that being said, i’ll also go through a timeline of events and how they’ve snowballed into an issue that is not as one-sided as most of you might think. i’ve been mutuals with emmie since my first blog, and i’d been mutuals with her through most of her blogs as well. we’ve never really had issues until her last blog @/garoujo, which she’d started after deactivating @/atsymu due to discourse regarding racism accusations. the reason why we had a falling out was because i felt that there were a series of odd coincidences that felt slightly purposeful, but i was still questioning whether or not i was looking too deeply into it to actually point any of it out.

admittedly, when i saw her first set of banners, i felt our layouts were a slight bit similar, but i really didn’t mind too much because i had been planning to change my banners anyway because i was bored of them. so i took that as an opportunity to do so. it just so happened that within a day or two of every time i changed my banners, hers would be changed too—i never said i owned the color gray, and i even fully acknowledge that the last two sets of banners, at first glance, wouldn’t be a red flag. because, like i said, i was more uncomfortable with the pattern of coincidences than the actual layouts. then i switched to my instagram theme, and not long after, i noticed her add instagram story visuals to her navi. again, no one ever said instagram was my original idea, and that no one else could use it, but it was an unsettling feeling having the same moot continuously make changes around the same time as you, and changes that are different enough that you can’t exactly point out an issue, but slightly similar enough that you can’t exactly ignore the slight oddness.

coincidentally, the same day, another blog (who i will not name bc they’re not very active anymore and are also not very relevant to this story) made the same theme as me and i was a bit peeved because this same blog is someone who has copied a few other things from me and a handful of other moots, so i made a subpost on my moots-only personal blog at the time. keep in mind, i made this post fully aware that emmie was on this blog because i didn’t intend for that post to seem like it was about her. but she reached out to me, and i explained to her the situation, and i even provided the relevant screenshots to show my points. i still considered her a decently good friend at the time, and even with the slightly off feelings, i was still adamant about brushing them off and considering them coincidences that perhaps i was being a bit too critical of.

it wasn’t until i woke up a few hours later after changing my theme and going to bed that i noticed she’d then fully switched to the insta theme. again, instagram is an app used by millions and, at one point, was a very popular theme used amongst most people on this app. i’m not entitled enough to believe i was the first person to do it, but like i said. there are just off vibes most of us will not help but feel when a series of coincidences continue to happen back to back to back by the same person.

there were, amongst these things, a number of other small touches that made me feel off. most of them i don’t remember by now or have screenshots of, so i won’t bother to go into all of them, but for reference, one example i’d also like to point out that i’d had the phrase “you’ve reached the hanmas” in my inbox when she was still on @/atsymu, and sometime after, her sfw blog @/loveatsu had the phrase “you’ve reached the miyas.” small things like this are not things i make an issue over and am more than capable of brushing aside, but like i have said and will continue to push firmly is that i felt there were multiple instances of emmie, in particular, making small tweaks to her blog shortly after me that made me feel were not all coincidentally similar. the issue was never themes or thinking i am the first or only person to do something a certain way, the issue has always been me countless times feeling that one particular individual is exhibiting a behavior that is persistent and uncomfortable no matter how minuscule the instances may be. maybe they were really just unfortunate coincidences that happened with poor timing, or maybe they weren’t. but i stand by the fact that anyone in my shoes would be valid to question the timing of each of these events over and over again.

i would also like to bring up kinktober (though this happened a while after the rest of what i will get into) because this was the first public discourse that emmie and i got into due to an anon’s claims of similarities between our posts. i had received an anon who told me “i think someone copied your kinktober masterlist” which i answered to ask if they could let me know who. they had come back to say it was garoujo, and i did not reply to the ask, instead, i made a post to vaguely tell the anon that i appreciate them letting me know, but i will just leave it be and continue on with my kinktober regardless of emmie’s mlist. i do think there were some vague similarities, but honestly not enough to really question it, so i figured a confrontation or issue was not necessary. a while later, several moots had messaged me to let me know they had received anonymous asks saying to “block @/garoujo she copied @/sakusins and she’ll copy you too” (or something along those lines, i don’t remember exactly.) i myself was very confused (and upset) by the situation because i did not, and still would not, want to be publicly name-dropped in other people’s inboxes over issues that do not involve them. unfortunately, it led to some not-very-kind asks to both of us, and while i am sorry she had to deal with that, it is not an apology from a sense of culpability. that situation was, and still is, entirely out of my control. i would not have seen the masterlist unless the anon had mentioned it, and i did not take part in having people send asks about her to other writers. especially not in a manner that was pretty much social suicide for me as well.

(this is a poorly made collage i know lol but i hit the picture limit bear with me here.)

i would also like to point out that i am not the only individual who has had issues with emmie and feels she had copied them. although i cannot disclose urls (they have been blocked out for privacy reasons) here are a few conversations i have had with my own mutuals, and i would wager there are more people whom i haven’t talked to who also feel this way. they might be small enough instances that sparking issues over them was not worth it to all of these people, therefore she has never heard from people herself about this issue, but the point does still stand that this claim about emmie is not one i alone make, and is one that i have heard countless times before. her never being approached by these individuals for the sake of peace doesn’t erase that they have been, and are, upset by these events, and it’s a habit that she seems to continually partake in. i would also like to link this post where she has been called out by another writer while she was still atsymu, which was posted while we were still friends. i’ve actually had a discussion with emmie about that post, and at the time, i had quickly skimmed the post and felt it was perhaps a reach, but after my own experiences, i went back to reread the post and considered perhaps there was validity to it, and that this might not be a one time occurrence. plagiarism in manners such as this will always have conflicting opinions, and it is hard to sometimes tell if something is a coincidence, a popular and overused idea, or something that has actually been copied. my point is that a number of people have all felt that perhaps there is a good chance this was not an accident, and please consider that so many instances of people feeling this way might suggest that there is a certain degree of validity to the claim.

at the beginning of all of this, when the masterlist banners had first started bothering me, i was upset, and i chose to vent to an ex-moot of mine who most of you would recognize as munsonsins. abby has deactivated a long while ago, but she’s relevant to this because i had chosen to vent to her at the time, and this is more or less what later caused this situation to escalate. at the time of venting to her, i knew she wasn’t mutuals with emmie because, as you can see, she’d told me as such.

one thing i would like to point out is that there were a handful of people i had vented to about my frustrations with emmie, but one thing i had always been mindful of was ensuring these were a) individuals who i considered close friends and not just random individuals, and b) were not friends or moots with emmie in the event that i accidentally made people who she cared about think lesser of her. had abby been mutuals with emmie, i would not have shared my feelings, and once again, i was not loose-lipped enough to just tell anyone because they’d listen. i told abby in particular because i had felt we were sufficiently close individuals who talked one-on-one and were able to vent to each other. a bit after i vented to her, though, she befriended emmie, which i had no such issues with because abby was/is her own person and is an adult who can interact freely and befriend whoever she wanted/wants to.

not long after that, on the night before eid (this detail is relevant in the future) an ex moot of mine @/kazuwhora reached out to me. if you guys remember, there was a discourse last year that was all over dash about how writers on this app should be open to criticism. a lot of people (including me and kc) were upset by that sentiment—which is still valid. please don’t give constructive criticism to writers without their explicit permission !! but regardless, kc sent me a screenshot of a mutual of mine who had posted their opinion on this discourse, and their point was clearly that while constructive criticism is important in some aspects, writers do not have to be subject to receiving it should they not want to. unfortunately, i felt as if kc misunderstood what this individual was trying to say, and i was trying to explain it to her, but we got into a small argument over how we interpreted the post. i felt some of the things she was saying about this individual were inappropriate, and i had made it clear that i was very fond of this person, and it made me uncomfortable to be having this discussion. regardless of whether she saw my interpretation of the post or not, i wanted to drop the discussion, especially because it was the night before eid. eid is the one holiday i celebrate, and there are traditions i quite enjoy the night before, and i didn’t want them to be spoiled with a poor mood over a silly argument. unfortunately, she wasn’t very willing to drop the topic, and it ended up making me upset. so i posted this screenshot to my moots only personal from the conversation that consisted of my messages only and said, “tonight i had to explain what a debate is.” it was petty, perhaps, but very harmless, seeing as there was no context given and no names/pfps to indicate who the person was.

truthfully, i had vented separately to cat, eris, and abby about this argument because i was friends with the three of them at the time, but needless to say, venting to your friends about arguments is a universal action, and i believe it is something all of us have partaken in.

eventually, i decided to softblock emmie because i felt it would be more comfortable for me on my blog to do so. after a bit, i was informed of a subpost that seemed like it couldn’t be about anyone other than me—to make things clear, emmie subposting me was not my concern. i did not hold it against her because she is more than entitled to have her own feelings and vents on her own blog, but the thing that did concern me was that it seemed slightly evident that she was aware of my feelings when i had never explicitly had a conversation with her. it made me question who would tell her, and as you may have guessed, the only person with whom i had shared my concerns who could also be in contact with emmie was abby.

at the time, eris had also voiced concerns that they had trusted abby with the ending of the plot for the diluc series they were planning, and coincidentally, one of abby’s friends had posted a fic idea eerily similar to their concept, to which abby had been commenting and reblogging more brainstormed ideas under. all of these ideas were very close to the plans eris had for their series plot, and understandably, they felt that it was not a mere coincidence that their entire plot was being brainstormed on dash by a person who was fully aware of their outline. i’d voiced my concerns with believing that abby may have also been sharing things i trusted her with, and as a result we both had made a few vague subposts that we liked from each other—a petty behavior, i will admit, but not something that i think is very out of the norm for a lot of people on this app. sometimes, we all just want to vent out our frustrations, and because we all more or less use tumblr as an outlet, these can sometimes be vaguely taken to dash. it’s not something that is ideally recommended (i’ve learned the hard way) but it’s also ?? not exactly something that only i’m guilty of, or is even a rare behavior. i think to shoot down one person for this behavior is quite frankly hypocritical. again, subposting isn’t a habit i would like to push as mature but it’s something i’d like to point out is very normal in this community, and is not something only i take part in. beyond that, i take to ensuring that whenever i do, i’m not explicitly exposing who i’m talking about in order to keep them out of unnecessary issues.

after this conversation with eris, it kind of solidified in my mind that i did not want to trust abby with any more personal vents, or information, and i had ultimately decided to soft block her too. i had also decided to take the opportunity to softblock kc as well because i figured i might as well just remove individuals who i felt made me uncomfortable. this is, again, my right to do so to curate my own space. not long after, cat, eris, and i had been softblocked/hardblocked by a number of moots, and we were a bit confused, until cat ended up having a conversation with kc. many accusations were made about all three of us, more specifically, about me to kc by abby because the two of them had been discussing that they’d both been softblocked by me recently.

the list of accusations we were told of is as follows:

me, cat, and eris have a “burn book” where we “blacklist people.” it’s important to note that every time this discourse resurfaces (this is now the fourth time), the “burn book” has fundamentally changed in its composition—it has changed from a discord server “burn book”, to a google doc “burn book”, to the current rumor that it was an entire blog that was used as a “burn book.” it is consistently changed to fit whatever narrative is trying to be pushed, and regardless, the rumor itself is entirely untrue and has been addressed multiple times. cat has had a tumblr theme, a collab theme, and a server theme all dedicated to the film mean girls. she simply had a channel that was to share the urls of minors to block for interacting with nsfw works, or people who were anti-dark content—this is something that i have seen in all servers i’ve been in during my time on tumblr, and is not a new concept for many of you either. it’s simply a precaution a lot of servers take to warn writers about potential minors to block, and potential anti-dark content harassers. the name of this channel happened to be “the burn book” because it was a mean girls themed server, so the name just fit. nowhere in this channel were other writers in the community “blacklisted” or spoken negatively of, and here are the screenshots of the channel. this was simply something abby had twisted in order to paint us negatively. here is the link to cat’s post addressing it for proof and explanation (i run out of pictures or i would include them myself.)

abby also claimed that i was using this channel to talk poorly about kc and a handful of other moots. this is also false bc this server had several strangers (as it was cat’s server and i didn’t know all her moots), but it also had several of kc’s mutuals/friends in this server as well. i’m not so dense as to talk poorly about other writers publicly in a server, let alone a server i know has people who are friends with kc

now, this next part, emmie has conveniently painted out to be about me, as i apparently harassed and blacklisted people for liking itto from genshin impact, but i have been playing genshin for over a year on this app, and quite a large number of you are my own followers who see my rambles and my writing and i don’t have to explain that i have never written for itto, nor explicitly expressed an interest in him apart from perhaps one or two posts from back when i did his story quest. i never had, and still to this day, have no interest in the character itto. i’ve skipped his banner, i plan to skip his upcoming banners should they come, and i have never written for him, nor do i plan to write for him. this issue with itto is between eris and another individual, and i do not have the details to this, as i was new friends with eris at the time, and i’m no longer friends with eris as of current time. quite frankly, even if i knew the details, i wouldn’t go out of my way to share them because it has nothing to do with me. plain and simple.

as you can see, there were a number of rumors spread here to kc by abby, and as you can see, all of which led me to seem quite vicious in character. i’ve provided, to the best of my ability, screenshots and receipts of why each of these is quite drastically out of context and far from true to what abby has claimed.

i did in fact, after these events confront abby because i was genuinely appalled by the way she knowingly and purposely twisted things conveniently to villainize me. she expressed that she was upset and paranoid by the subposts that she figured were about her once i’d soft blocked her, so i apologized for the posts. she had conversations with both me and cat about the rumors she’d started, and she also apologized for them to both me and cat.

the rumors that emmie has claimed about me in her post, which she conveniently provided no evidence of, are all rumors that are more or less a result of my differences with abby and kc. unfortunately, despite cat trying her best to explain to kc the falseness of most of these rumors, she didn’t really believe them—which is her business. to each their own. i’m sure if i had been in kc’s shoes and in one night, someone i had considered a friend had been painted to do a series of nasty things behind my back, i also would not know what’s true and untrue, and she is entitled to piecing together what she believes is her truth. what’s not fair, however, is for emmie to have no involvement/understanding of these events apart from a twisted narrative she heard from one person and dog pile them into her claims of my behavior to further paint me as a villain. emmie is more than entitled to have her beliefs on my character based on her own experiences, which she has provided her own evidence of, but simply slapping an “and i heard she also….” does not necessarily make claims true, and is very manipulatively thrown into the post to add a list of things that make my character questionable to further validate her point.

not only this, but she has made a point to openly admit that she and her friends have collectively mocked me for my relationship with my ex-boyfriend, who they have apparently labeled as my “fake” boyfriend that i used to get attention on this app. quite plainly, i get enough attention on my blog that i don’t need a fake boyfriend to amp that up. but furthermore, i am a south asian, muslim individual. my parents are immigrants with very strict religious and cultural beliefs that i feel are very restricting at times, and though i love my family, i struggle with my identity quite a bit as i live in a very western culture that clashes quite a bit with my cultural norms. i do not get to freely explore my sexuality or even romantic life in general, unlike some of you. my parents have been kept in the dark about my relationship because them knowing about it is something that could quite literally create a rift between us, and i find it very insulting and almost suspicious that a white girl is making a mockery of my cultural struggles and my personal life. many of you are either desi or muslim or simply children of strict immigrant parents with quite stubborn traditional views. i’m sure plenty of you understand where i’m coming from when i say that i have to keep my relationship hidden from the majority of the people around me. tumblr is the one place i can anonymously share bits and pieces of my life without worrying about if it will literally cost me my relationship with my parents, so sometimes i may have overshared silly or pointless things, but that is because it’s my own way of being able to express myself and my relationship the way i have always wanted to. apart from that, dragging and making a joke out of someone’s personal life is quite unnecessary in this case. the issue is about tumblr discourse, and i find it very hypocritical that i am being labeled a bully when people, more specifically a white and privileged individual, is plain and simple mocking and poking fun at my personal life and situation that i have no control of. that is my piece on that. whether some of you believe i had a partner or not is not my business, nor do i have to go out of my way to show you evidence of my personal life. what i will say, however, is that there are a handful of close friends i have on this app who are involved in my personal life and have seen evidence of my love life through pictures and private stories on social media. quite frankly, these are the only individuals who i have to justify the validity of my personal life to, and it’s honestly quite violating for someone to stoop to dragging someone’s outside life into issues about tumblr. i extend a very genuine fuck you to every single one of you that have ridiculed my personal relationship and just know that you are extremely bold to consider yourselves above bullying when this is the type of behavior you admit to engaging in. individuals with complex familial relationships, and identity struggles between cultural norms, their ethnicities, and the western world are not your playground to make a joke out of. some of us have very real struggles, such as not being able to pursue careers in favor of arranged marriages, not being able to pursue actual relationships that mean something to us due to a lack of familial approval, being forced to bear children at young ages due to familial pressure, and so on. they are not laughing matters, and are a part of my reality. and before some of you get started—yes, it really is that serious. i have struggled my entire life with having white girls poke fun and tease at my cultural norms, and i refuse to allow another white and privileged individual who already has a record of racially related discourse walk away with once more poking fun at my personal struggles and not be called out for it. i hope you had a good, long, satisfying laugh emmie.

onto my next points based on claims @/anantaru has made about me. the main thing i’d like to really point out here is that anantaru and i have never, not even once, interacted to the extent of my knowledge. they claim that cat and i cannot stand it when people cross us in numbers and that we go through people’s likes in order to find minors and blank blogs to explain all the notes. a) i am very bad at checking for minors and blanks in my own notes, so this is not even a logical approach on my end, but b) this claim is made because cat made this post under the tags of a post going around last year that asked to hear unpopular ficblr opinions.

what cat means to articulate here is that sometimes, when she is scrolling on dash and interacting with moots and their shit/talk-posts, she peeks at profiles she sees in the notes and has happened to catch minors lurking. cat, firstly, has never followed anantaru, so they are not a “victim” to cat glancing at their likes, but secondly, this is not nearly as psychotic as it’s painted out to be. cat is not, and was not, jealous of other blog's notes. quite plainly, she’s not exactly a tiny blog either, and she’s only stumbled upon minors in the talks-posts of moots, including me. shit-posts/talks-posts are easy to notice minors lurking on, and while most people recognize that it’s quite impossible to catch every minor and ageless blog in writing posts with numerous notes, a simple shit-post on dash is more simple, and her unpopular opinion was simply that blogs that grow rapidly need to be better about catching those minors because they are susceptible to having more of them lurking. it’s a really harmless sentiment, and she’s gently reminded me as well on more than one occasion to be more responsible about my habit of being lazy when scouting for minors in my interactions.

this is not out of jealousy, nor is it some sick and twisted habit she has to “explain” why people get more notes than she might get. it’s also out of a place of concern for her own content ?? i myself and plenty of other large blogs reblog from mutuals, and they are well within their right to be concerned that perhaps minors are lurking on our pages and interacting with works we reblog from our mutuals. cat has voiced this concern to me before, also out of goodwill and simple concern for my content, her content, and minors in general. there is simply no need to twist it into her viciously looking down upon large blogs and their notes counts and claiming they’re “only because they don’t block minors.” admittedly, though, i do need to be better about catching minors, and i have always appreciated her trying to keep me in the habit of being responsible about it. more importantly, it was a small passing comment under a post of unpopular opinions, a lot of them were hot takes, and this is hardly a serious one to get so heated over.

i’d also like to point out that anantaru has claimed we blocked them for being a gatekeeper and because we’re jealous of their notes. 💀. a) i am very grateful and very happy with the level of interaction i get on my writing, as more people than i imagine leave me countless comments and reblogs. i have never had an issue with comparing my interaction with that of other writers because i have always been abundantly content with the interaction i get. i have no other comment on this other than cat and i blocked anantaru at the same time because we happened to see a post of theirs reblogged onto our dash that made a joke that we felt was a bit insensitive to/alluded to SA—i’m sure it wasn’t meant to be taken that way, but it made us uncomfortable regardless. while we are both dark content supporters, and i myself have read more than one fic that includes noncon in particular, it doesn’t mean we have to like/enjoy everything related to it and we simply decided to block them. i’m not going to bring this post up bc it’s simply not important. they are an adult who is more than entitled to make jokes on their blog and cat and i do not have to like them !! we simply did what we were well within our rights to do, and that’s blocking them.

there’s more they go on to say about receiving hate asks and that apparently it’s because of our “group of friends.” cat and i don’t have a group of friends. i don’t have any group chats with her besides the one with her boyfriend because i get along with him sometimes as well, and we used to play genshin together a lot when i was in low ar. not that i have to explain my friendships here, but i quite literally do not have a group of people to “send after” anantaru because people are well aware of my close friends, who i text with my personal phone number. i’ve posted silly screenshots of convos on my blog multiple times, and none of these friends overlap because i do not have a “group” of friends, just individual friends who i talk to one on one. cat is not friends with my other friends, and my other friends are not friends with her. there are no inner circles that conspire together to send anyone hate because i “tell them to.” and if there are screenshots of me explicitly encouraging someone to send hate on anon, i would love to see it. if i had sent my anons after anantaru, it would have to be a public post, and i’m sure if there were a post of such nature, it would have been brought to light by now. they have also claimed they were given multiple urls of mine to block. i only have ONE writing blog, @/saetoru, and the only other two that are still up are archived blogs @/hanmine and @/katsuphilia, which are side blogs attached to saetoru and have been inactive for several months. there are however, multiple individuals on this app who also go by the name “tee,” and perhaps we have unfortunately been mixed up as the same person, but the only blog i have is saetoru, so there is no other active blog they have blocked me from that belonged to me and was able to harass them.

not only that, but anantaru has claimed that one person off anon sent them hate with a kaeya url which they insinuate to be me. once again, you are all more than aware of my history of urls, and many of you have all been here to see them. i’ve never once had a kaeya url, nor have i ever been particularly interested in kaeya outside of a small number of posts on a rare occasion. my genshin favorites have always been characters from sumeru and, at one point diluc, and once again i don’t have to ?? explain my selfships to you all ?? but literally, i have nothing to do with a kaeya blog or kaeya account, and im unsure why it’s being thrown into my name. quite frankly, i’m not sure what their moot has told them we have said about them, but the only conversations cat and i have ever had about anantaru was that one about the noncon joke, and that’s it. outside of that, there is literally no evidence of us speaking about this person because it simply doesn’t exist.

i implore you all to, instead of starting public discourse over things you hear, confirm them first. had anantaru reached out to me or cat and expressed that they are upset that we are supposedly spreading false rumors about them gatekeeping, then whatever misunderstanding it might have been could have been cleared. i would like to also point out that it is not above bullying when you simply dump numerous accusations that you have heard through half whispers from moots and provide 0 evidence for them. i am perfectly aware of why emmie may consider herself to have issues with me, but i have never had an encounter with anantaru, and truthfully, i’ve never actually even read their writing before. my main (and pretty much only) experience with them is seeing the joke i saw reblogged onto my dash, and as i stated earlier, the only thing i did for that was block and move one.

and lastly, the other point i’d like to make is that numerous blogs who i have been objectively very kind to have come out to take the opportunity to stomp on my character and reputation. for example, tumblr user @/osaemu, who used to follow me and interact with me quite often. i have always been excited to interact with her because she was really supportive of my gojo writing, and at one point, i had a small area of concern with her using the same exact title as me for a gojo fic. below are screenshots of our conversation regarding the titles.

i am quite confident that this is a very polite interaction, and i was very clear that i didn’t think that her writing elements, including gojo’s parent dynamics and his dynamics with the reader, were copied or even something that i felt she needed to change. i pointed them out as a way of indicating that between these parallels and between the fact that i know she reads my rb! gojo series, i find it difficult to believe that our fic titles being exactly the same is a coincidence, and it made me uncomfortable—my concern was not how she wrote gojo’s parents or his dynamic with reader. i never accused her of stealing ideas that were mine alone to use, all i simply wanted to do was shed light on the fact that based on these parallels, i figured the names being the same was a touch difficult for me to brush aside as a chance similarity. i was very clear to outline that i know these dynamics and themes in writing are generic, and that people can pull inspo from them because i have done the same thing. my only concern was the title, which i politely asked her to change, and she agreed. case closed. i have been, again objectively, quite kind to osaemu, and i had no intentions of blocking her like a moot had suggested because i felt it was a very silly issue to block over since she was very lovely to me.

i did, however, block her because she posted one-paragraph posts with multiple characters tagged. that’s not a crime on her end, and i’m certainly not here to police her posts in the tags, but as me and plenty of other people on this app have voiced multiple times, it is a bit irritating and feels like spam to see posts of these kinds in the tags so i blocked her. this is a very popular opinion and i refuse to be considered problematic for it. i am not here to police what constitutes an appropriate post to tag x reader tags on, and while i have made posts simply sharing my opinion on what i feel should and should not be tagged, osaemu is more than welcome to post whatever she feels she would like to into the tags. i do, however, block anyone who i come across who makes those kinds of posts because i simply don’t like them, and i don’t like seeing them. i don’t owe an explanation for why i block anyone, but seeing as i have been painted as some bitch for doing so, here is my reasoning. quite a lot of people agree on this sentiment, and to each their own, but i don’t enjoy seeing those posts. i did also unblock her at one point, as she mentioned. this is simply because a mutual of mine had voiced that they felt someone had copied the concept of their drabble, and i was helping them word a message to send, so i went back to this exact conversation to look back on what i said because it was a similar situation. as you know, blocking someone hides their dms from your dm list, so i had intended to temporarily unblock her just to see how i worded my message to help formulate a message for a mutual. there were no screenshots sent, i simply wanted to jog my memory of my points, that’s all. i did forget to block her again for a bit but eventually did, and that’s the extent of our interactions. i don’t recall posts telling people that i condone sending anons with death threats like she has claimed, and if she could point out the particular posts i have made where i encourage people to send anon death threats on my behalf, i would be more than happy to clear them up, or address them.

i have admittedly, on a few occasions said in my responses to anon hate itself, the phrase “kys” out of frustration, and there are i’m sure conflicting opinions on that, but i do not regularly use this phrase in my vocabulary. i have been on the receiving end of graphic sexual and violent asks in my inbox regarding me, my teenage sister, and my mother, during my time on here, and sometimes out of frustration i have said less than dignified things, but this is not a constant behavior, and frankly, i think once people make graphic, violent, and inappropriate comments about my 16 year old sister, saying “kys” in response is not the greater of the two evils. it is a tad bit hypocritical to expect benevolence from me to an anonymous hate ask just because there is “another person” at the end of the screen when they have not extended the same sentiment to me.

all of that being said, jumping on the trend to trample on someone while you have the opportunity to because you’re bitter they blocked you is also no better than bullying. apart from blocking osaemu, I have taken careful steps to always be respectful to her due to the very kind comments she’s left on my writing. leaving nice comments on my writing is deeply appreciated and welcome, but that doesn’t mean i have to subject myself to seeing posts i do not want to see on my dash on my phone. i pay for the phone bill, so i will cater my phone to show me what i want to see, and if that includes blocking a few people, i am allowed to do that !! i should not have to apologize for or be crucified for blocking someone and their feelings being hurt over it.

not only this, but several of you have somehow started a rumor that i am 26 or even pushing 30. that’s nowhere close to the truth. i’m 21, soon to be 22, and i have stated multiple times i am an undergraduate college student. of course, there is no timeline to college, and people of all ages complete their undergrad degrees, but i have made it a point to vent about my concerns numerous times that i am very stressed about taking extra classes every semester to compensate for changing my major late because i want to graduate on time. my graduation year is 2024 (as would make sense seeing as i will be 22 years old), and if you don’t believe me, i have celebrated my bday on april 12th of every year this blog has been active. you’re more than welcome to check my archive to see if that’s true, and for further reference, here is a picture i have sent to mods of servers i am in to be accepted. (note that my url used to be hanmas before saetoru.)

although there is no shame in being 26 or pushing 30, the reason why i wanted to address this is that i wanted to point out that yet another rumor has been fiercely pushed on my name and has been believed to be the truth. no one has to walk away from reading this post assuming that i’m a saint and i have never done anything wrong or that i have been faultless in differences i’ve had with other people. but a lot, if not all, of these claims are exaggerated with 0 evidence, and people have just run with claiming them as true. i physically cannot deny a large majority of these rumors with evidence or screenshots because half of them are made by people i have never interacted with or talked to, and i cannot produce evidence for interactions that never happened. i have seen blank, burner blogs post stories of their experiences with me, one in particular that claims i dm’d them to tell them their hanma fic was breathtaking before i harassed them about their theme, boyfriend, and parents. a) i do not dm anyone to compliment their fics because i am simply too shy to do that. i would have only reblogged the fic with comments if i enjoyed it. b) again, there is no evidence on their part, and i cannot dispel this story with evidence of my own because evidence of conversations that never took place does not exist. and c) i would like to think i do not come across as dense enough to attack someone in their dm’s viciously about their boyfriend and parents openly with my account, where they could easily spread the proof around if it had actually happened. i am not responsible for people’s internet literacy, and if people believe every story that is shared with not even a small piece of proof that it took place, i cannot do anything besides simply urge you all to formulate your opinions based on what you see, not based on what you hear.

i would also like to end things off with an apology to all of you—mainly because there was no reason for so many of you to be dragged into something that did not involve you and also because there are very disturbing and important issues going on right now in real-time in the world that are affecting a lot of people. i never want to be involved in something that takes attention off of important discussions such as genocide, and while many of you like to claim i am deflecting, i think it is quite telling that some people have posted nothing about something this important but have made multiple posts regarding discourse. i did not feel it was appropriate at that time to focus on discourse, and i still do not think so, but i wanted to leave off with my own statement.

i would also like to apologize if i have ever come across as unkind during an experience with me; it is never my intention to be that way purposely. i have a habit of being petty sometimes and can be a bit short-tempered, and it’s something i work on. with as large of a following as i have, sometimes it’s better not to say anything at all than say it—however vaguely it might be. i hope some of you who also have larger followings keep that in mind so that you can avoid discourse erupting into something grand scale. please vent to people you trust and be wary of having a habit to subpost. but mainly, please remember that people trusting you with their feelings and troubles is not something you should take pride in spreading. there is nothing to be proud of about sharing people's private socials, urls, and conversations. while i am not always able to keep my temper under wraps, and while i have had my fair share of petty moments, i, to the best of my ability, have always made sure that i don’t come across as intentionally cruel or mean, nor have i purposely broken someone’s trust. sometimes i have retaliated back a bit fiercely, but i stand by the fact that i never purposely chased or drove anyone off, mocked or belittled them, or sent people over to dislike/hate them. i have at times vented to those who i believe are people i can trust, sure—but this is something we as people are all guilty of. there’s no way any of us can hold one person more accountable than others for partaking in closeted conversations that are never meant to get back to people and hurt them.

i genuinely loved, and still love, writing very much, and i have always appreciated every ask, every reblog, and every comment. writing is a hobby i am greatly passionate about, and it’s always a hobby i was very excited to share with people on here because i don’t get to share it with people irl. i don’t willingly tell people irl that i enjoy making elaborate plots about anime characters, and i have always been very excited to share that hobby with you all, whether you are a reader or writer. i’ve read fanfiction for a very long time before i ever decided to try my hand at writing it, and i would never want to knock other people down simply because they “surpassed” me. i enjoy finding writers to read from, especially those who write better than me, because they are where i draw the most inspiration and motivation from. the moots i look up to most are moots who are in my opinion, far stronger writers than me, and moots who i always firmly believe deserve much more reach than i do on their stories because they’re far more fleshed out and in-depth than anything i can produce. and i am proud of them !! and even those of you who feel you are stuck not getting as much reach as you would hope, i am proud also of all of you for picking up a google doc or pen and writing and trying, whether you choose to share it or not. i will always strongly encourage you all to try your hand at writing if you have ever considered it because i have genuinely built such a better sense of self-esteem when being able to incorporate pieces of myself in my stories and express parts of who i am—i think some of you might really enjoy the catharsis that writing brings, and if you ever debate on trying it out, please do !! you might become really passionate about it.

anyway, this post is abysmally long. none of it is to clear my name in hopes that i will be “un-canceled” (LOL) because i have decided saetoru is long overdue to be put to rest. i hope you can all, at the very least, allow other writers some peace and stop harassing them in their inboxes for knowing me (because that is also bullying and very ironic of you), and i hope you all got some sort of understanding of where i am coming from. if you think poorly of me, that’s okay. i have an opinion of myself, and the close people who surround me, that i am confident in, and while i may not have always handled things in the brightest of manners, i am well aware of what my intentions have always been.

i’m deeply grateful to all 41k of you, and thank you for reading my works and allowing me to write for you !! thank you for all the very, very kind asks that i never got a chance to fully answer each one of, and thank you especially for all the supportive comments and love on the writing i’ve posted. they might be silly fics you read once and moved on from, but they’re all pieces of me, my life, and things that are important to me, and as cringe and cheesy as it sounds, it means quite literally everything to me when people read them and take away something from them.

also, as a parting gift, i will be posting the nerd gojo, ex-convict geto, and a marriage rb! gojo fic to my ao3 (also saetoru) for those of you who have been patiently awaiting those wips to enjoy. please (a little more patiently) keep your eyes peeled for those <3 i will no longer be posting or active on saetoru, and in the event that i keep writing, it will be posted on my ao3, so you all will know where to find me !!

so for the last time, i love you my little runts !! wishing you all the best, and goodbye to my lil saetoru bestees.

mwah !!

— tee <3

ps. i also have turned off reblogs for this post and limited replies to people i follow only. a lot of you will jump to say that it’s simply because i am “hiding,” but it is solely because i have said my piece and i intend to move on. thank you and have a lovely day shawtee ✌🏽

#thanks to all my mutuals who have reached out !! i love you all #and i will miss you tons !!

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alphajocklover · 4 months

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Would it be ethical to use the InstaJock app on some fellow nerds who are being assholes to everyone in our college major? I doubt anyone would miss the old them~

I can’t really speak for the ethics of using a mysterious app to turn asshole nerds into manly jocks, but I do have to warn you of a couple… logistic issues. See, you’re asking if you should give this guy the app. But what you should be asking is if you even can. See, the only people who can invite people to use the app are… well, people who’ve already used the app. The people who’ve already been turned into jocks. There are some ways to get the app on a phone without getting jockified, but trust me when I tell you they’re very difficult, and you basically can’t ever use the phone again without risking being turned into a jock yourself. So if you, a geek, are going to turn these jerks without being transformed yourself, you’re going to need some help. Specifically you’re going to need someone who has already been jocked.

The first thing you have to do is find someone who has the app. That part is fairly simple. Look for anyone who suddenly had a massive growth spurt and change in personality. You can’t always tell if someone is on InstaJock, since with the ‘rewrite history’ setting on you’ll think they’ve always been a jock, but since most people don’t use that feature it should be fairly obvious. If you wanna be extra sure look for a jock with glasses. I’ve mentioned before that InstaJock isn’t able to remove glasses, so if a jock with perfect vision is wearing glasses for no reason you can be sure he’s a recent convert.

The next part, getting them to help you, is much harder. It’s not that they wouldn’t be happy to turn a geek into one of them. The first thing most InstaJock users do after they make their first post is send out a few invites. The problem is they’d be all too happy to transform you too. Don’t misunderstand, they don’t transform every geek they know into jocks. That’s way too smart of an idea for a jock to have. But if you, a geek, bring up the app and suggest using it… well even a jock can put the dots together. Both you and your target would end up jock bros. On the upside you’d probably get along a lot better. On the downside you’d be an entirely different person with a lot less brains.

The only way to do this without ending up a total jock bro is to get the jocks to notice your targets without noticing you. This could be done in a number of ways. You could trick the geeks into acting even more obnoxious so that they naturally draw more attention. You could whisper in the right ears, spread rumors that you know will make their way to the jocks. Or… you could just take a more direct route. Most jocks wouldn’t question an anonymous note. They’d probably get stuck on the spelling of the word anonymous.

That’s all there is really. Find a jock with the app, point him in the right direction, and wait. It shouldn’t be long until the asshole and all his friends are instantly turned into muscular bros. Jocks being jocks, they might still bully nerds at times, but they’ll most likely be so obsessed with their new bodies and bro lifestyle that they won’t have time for it anymore.

There is still some risk though. Once your targets are changed, they’ll have the app too. And if they ever find out you’re the one who got them jockified, or if you do anything that grabs their attention…

While I hope you appreciate the karma for as long as you can.

#muscle growth tf #jock tf #jock transformation #jockification #muscle tf #nerd to jock #reality change #instajock tf

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stars-obsession-pit · 2 months

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Is anyone else having weird issues with searching certain tags?

Like, this is the situation i’ve been encountering

Looking at latest posts from clicking on the “DPxDC” tag on my followed tag list only loads a couple posts at most before hitting an end as if I read all of them

Searching that tag in the search bar and sorting by latest will also lead to the same issue

Searching the “DP x DC” tag on the search bar and sorting by latest will also encounter a similar issue, though it’ll load a few more posts before stopping

Same with searching “DC x DP” (maybe the spaces are making them read as being the same to the system?)

But not “DCxDP” - that works just fine in the search bar

Back to the “DP x DC” tag again: despite not working through the search bar, it’ll work fine if accessed through my followed tags instead

And also sorting by “top” in any of those aforementioned cases also seems to fix the issue with the number of results??

Though I have encountered similar “surprisingly short search results” situations while sorting by top when looking at some other tags. I’m just not confident if those were actually the same issue since I was trying to search multiple tags

Also as a possibly separate thing I can’t find some tags I know I’ve used before when using the search function on this blog

All of this is occurring on the IOS app in what is (according to the app store) the latest version available to me (version 35.3). I don’t think the problem started until I downloaded that update, but I’m not certain.

#meta #tumblr search function #searching on tumblr #tumblr #tumblr bugs #tumblr tech support #including these tags since they’re the ones i noticed the issue from:#dp x dc #dpxdc

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abacus-jpg · 4 months

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Anyone else not understand why people are moving to cara. Like I understand it’s because ai and shit,, but like. What confuses me is as long as your art is on the internet, aslong as you chose to post your art online anywhere, doesn’t matter where, it is prone to being stolen by ai. To me ai is nothing more then when people trace your art and call it their own. Ofc I don’t want people to do it, but ultimately that will not stop them. I do have a cara account, I was the first to claim abacus. When I tried posting there a few times I’ve been met with an error message, alongside that the app is really buggy and slow. I don’t see why people feel the need to come up with new apps to post art on when you could just use tumblr, but then the argument with tumblr is that there’s no engagement. But if we all flock to tumblr like people are flocking to cara then I don’t see why engagement would be such a big issue. Even then, if engagement is your main concern with your art I feel like you should reevaluate why you are pursuing art in the first place. I had this struggle ages ago where I didn’t feel my art was worth anything because I couldn’t cap 10 likes. But I realized, my art is for me. I’m the one that should be enjoying it, and my reason for posting now is for other people to enjoy it, so if they don’t,, I really don’t care all the much. I understand it is really detouring to post ocs and to have zero engagement, but that’s just the way art is. Unless you are producing fanart consistently of shit that is made into content farms, I really don’t see how you can garner a following just doing ocs. That’s why, doing art for your own sake is more important than trying to please everyone. I can guarantee there’s atleast one stranger on the internet that will fw your stuff the way you want. And the more you post, the more the number will grow. Most of the time it’s gradual, but one goes to two, two goes to three. And maybe you’ll only get one or two. But the important thing is, there’s someone. If you feel like you have no one, remember your art is for yourself. You’ll always have one, even if that is yourself. This might all seem contradictive. But trust, only you matter when it comes to your own artwork.

This “speech”, if you can call it that, isn’t to deter people from drawing and posting their ocs. This is just to say, engagement shouldn’t matter. As long as you’re happy, that’s all the matters. Post and draw what you want aslong as it’s not straight ripping from someone else. Idc.

This whole thing was supposed to be abt Cara but it turned into a uhh,, Ted talk of sorts. I’m not saying people shouldn’t use cara, if it works for them then by all means go for it. But personally I will not be making it my main form of social media. In my opinion, it’ll be like that other art app people were using for a week before they forgot abt it, I forget the name of it but I remember the interface was a light pink, similar to Instagram,, but somehow worse.

IM GONNA SPECIFY THAT I DONT CONDONE AI STEALING PEOPLES ART EITHER,, just putting that out there because some people have a way of misunderstanding or misinterpretating things. Which is okay!! Because some people genuinely get confused and that’s alright. But like please don’t use so first handedly. With that being said, I’m just a nobody on the internet so why would you listen to me,, you won’t. But i uhh,, am gonna put that there anyways

Thanks if you read allat,, idk why you would but that’s anyways I guess😭😭😭

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sharkboywrites · 11 months

Note

HIII If you're accepting requests rn I'd love to ask for something done! Floyd leech x autistic (preferably trans, but it's okay if not as well!) male reader! basically I'd love for my fave character to comfort me lol,,, Like... bodily affirmations, squeezes, lots of sweet kisses... maybe some crying... Idk!! just go with whatever comes to mind! (sorry if too vauge, I feel sooo braindead rn XD)

yah ty if you get around to this!!! it'd make my days so much better, I've already read all the stuff in the floyd x male reader tags so I'm feeling so deprived of good n' comforting content aughhh....

Bad Days

Floyd x autistic trans male reader

A/N: So funny thing I wrote like half of this and then my app reset so I have to rewrite almost I’ll of it :,) but anyways this is also kinda a comfort fic for me because I’ve been dealing with a lot of sensory issues and transphobia lately , along with being borderline denied an autism assessment so this is a fic for both of us anon

Trans male reader, autistic reader, dysphoria, sensory issues, autism meltdown, non sexual nudity

Days like these are tough. From the moment you woke up you could tell that something was wrong. It starts with the clothes. The shirt and jacket just feel wrong.

But there’s nothing else to wear so… you wear it. Then it gets worse in class. The temperature is just too much, and it makes your clothes feel so much worse, like you want to just scratch at your skin until the feeling stopped.

The noises the people make around you are unbearable. The gum chewing, the lip smacking, all of it is just to much. It makes you want to tear your hair out and rip your ears off.

The lights are too bright and everyone is just so loud, it’s starting to feel like your getting a migraine, like you just can’t take it anymore and start screaming at any moment.

And of course somehow these feelings just make you more aware of your body. You’re suddenly hyper aware of your chest, your waist, your face, even your voice. It’s all too much.

Luckily, when you first came to Night Raven Colege, you thought ahead about this. It was important for your teachers to understand your situation, diagnosis or not.

Crewel was aware of your situation, and with one look you’re able to slip out of class. You rush back to your dorm as quickly as possible, suddenly grateful that classes were going on so nobody could see you. You can’t help the whines that slip from your throat as you desperately try to hold yourself back from completely breaking down into a mess of screams and cries.

You’re able to quickly make it back to your dorm, locking yourself in your room and throwing off your uniform. Sure, being completely naked almost in tears in your dorm room isn’t the most flattering thing, but you just had to get that stupid uniform off.

Rubbing down the worst feeling parts of your body, you’re able to calm down enough to dig out your favorite clothes and throw them back on, even if they not be in the best state. You just need them right now.

Being able to use any type of noise cancelling headphones or earbuds helps calm you down a little bit more. Just having them in, even if you’re not playing anything, it helps get all of the noises from the day out of your head.

A drink of water also helps. In very few gulps you’re able to swallow almost an entire bottle of water. You lay down in your bed, breathing heavily as you start to calms down in a safer environment.

As you lay in bed, you can feel your soft blanket in your feet, rubbing them back in forth to get a nicer sensation than what you were feeling for most of the day.

Taking a few more sips of water, completely finishing off the water bottle, you take your stim toy of choice. You have all of your favorite options thanks to everyone at NRC giving them to you. As you fidget and play one of your favorite videos, you start to think. You managed to slip out of class, and you didn’t even hurt yourself or make a complete mess of your room. At least that’s some progress.

You’re cut off by your thinking by a knock on the door. Not able to form words at the moments, you pull yourself out of bed and peek out of the door.

Standing there is your tall, rather intimating boyfriend.

“Eh? Shirmpy what happened? You just left class so suddenly…”

He has his usual playful drone to his voice, but you can tell the slight hint of concern, a difference you’re sure only you and his brother can notice.

You stay silent, just giving him a pained look and hoping he understand. He does.

“Not talkin’? Alright… you want me to stay?”

You’re able to give him a small nod, and he walks right in and practically jumps onto your bed, making grabby hands at you, his mood doing almost a 180, as he usually does.

You could always depend on Floyd to understand what you’re going through. He also has his fair share of his own mood swings and tantrums, he’s never judge you for your own.

You walk back to bed and slowly slink into his arms, leaning against his chest comfortably. Floyd was somehow never too hot or too cold to cuddle with. He was somehow always the perfect temperature no matter what you were feeling. It almost feels like he knows how to control his own body temperature on purpose.

He squeezes you tight, not as hard as he does when he’s mad at someone or intentionally trying to hurt them, but a real, genuine hug. And it’s perfect. Others would complain that his squeezes are way to tight, but to you it’s perfect. He’s almost like a weighted blanket. You’re glad you make him feel safe enough to hug you as hard as he wants with genuine love.

He snuggle close to you, leaving soft kisses on his he top of your head and cheek, but not anywhere that may be uncomfortable in your overstimulated time. He’s mindful of where exactly he’s touching you, he knows what parts don’t want to be touched in these moments, even the most obscure ones.

As the two of you snuggle and watch whatever you chose to put on, he mutters sweet things to you.

“I love yooou.” “My boyfriend….” “My boy.” “So handsome”

It seems like he’s in a lovey mood now. Even with his sudden switches, he always seems to know the right things that you need to hear. He also checks up on how you’re feeling.

“Are ya comfortable?” “Feelin’ any better?” “Are you too warm?” “Do ya want your stuffed animal?” “Want me to move my arms?”

When you aren’t talking, the both of you are in a comfortable silence. It starts to become hard to keep your eyes open after the day you’ve had combined with the cozy environment with your boyfriend holding you tight.

Eventually, you can’t fight the exhaustion anymore and feel yourself starting to drift. Before you fully fall asleep, you feel a soft kiss on the top of your head and the arms around you squeeze just a bit tighter.

“G’night Shirmpy, sweet dreams…”

Aaah I love writing comfort fics. Usually my head cannon style posts do better than my actual fics so I guess I’ll see how this goes. Also this is based on my own experience with autism, so if it doesn’t fit you I’m sorry, Ty for reading and have a nice day

#male reader #sharkboywrites #mlm #mlm blog #twst #twst x male reader #twst x reader #twst fanfic #autistic reader #ftm reader #trans reader #transmasc reader #floyd x male reader #floyd leech x male reader #floyd leech x reader #floyd x reader

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send-me-a-puffalope · 26 days

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Nat rambling about the entire plot of Pretty Perfect Lives for way too long because autism hyperfixation doesn’t stop for no one.

I came for Elizabeth Lail, left debating with my friend about what the fuck I just watched /pos. I was so deeply invested so here’s me just explaining the plot of the entire show:

It starts off with Tiffany and Tucker (imagine Tiffany and Tucker as Barbie and Ken cause that’s pretty much who they are, but as TikTok influencers instead of in Barbieland) recording videos for “the app” and then they’re like back alone in their home and they’re having relationship issues and Tiffany wants to talk about their relationship cause she feels like they’re growing distant BUT she’s recording them secretly so she can post it onto their account for content (which is supposed to be tiktok but they just call it The App probably because they’re not allowed to say TikTok LMFAOO)

And turns out the conversation they end up having is that Tucker thinks he might be into men too but doesn’t want to break up with Tiffany but then Tucker realized that she’s filming all of their emotional talk to show to their audience that they’re “authentic” and rightfully gets mad because Tiffany is using his internal conflicts as content online.

They then post a video about how they’re going to explore an open relationship but open only on Tucker’s side — she was still fully committed to just Tucker. And then they invite this guy Jesse over for a threesome and it was really awkward and Jesse is like oh the way I like to do things is watching the couple do it and i’ll join in when the time is right. and then Tiffany was just like. ohh yeah no i’m not here to participate. i’m just here to watch. and then it was like Jesse and Tucker undressing and Jesse choking him out with a belt while Tiffany was just like fujoing out from her cuck seat

and then Tiffany posted a video about how their “threesome” was and Tucker was like wtf babe you didn’t ask me about this before posting. this doesn’t feel like you respect my boundaries and Tiffany refuses to delete the video because it’s gotten them a lot of attention. and then they argue and then they break up and Tiffany has a panic attack while screaming for Tucker to not leave her alone (Elizabeth Lail’s performance is so so so so good here, her wailing was so heartbreaking) and then the scene changes.

Lights come up and it’s Tucker coming home and being like hey babeeeeeeee and ITS JESSE INSTEAD OF TIFFANY NOW. But it’s like the exact same situation — Jesse keeps wanting him to record videos with him for “the app” and wanting Tucker to quit his job so that they can do like sex work online instead. but Tucker is like woah um. maybe not. what if i want a job in the future. and then he’s like hey babe why don’t we spend some time together instead, off the internet and Jesse has like stopped paying attention and is just like scrolling through “the app”.

Tucker is like trying to sleep but can’t fall asleep and keeps checking his phone and watching videos that Tiffany posted and he’s like shit,,,, i regret breaking up with Tiffany. and he calls Tiffany like hey i wanna get some closure, why don’t you come over. and then Tiffany does in the next scene in the fuckinf hottest full black outfit. black tube or tank top, black jean jacket, black pants and sunglasses and she’s like yeah. i’ve been doing. fine.

and then they have like cuts in of like Tiffany making DAY 68 OF HAVING YOUR BOYFRIEND LEAVE YOU FOR THE GUY WE INVITED OVER FOR A THREESOME videos. the day 195 one was her crying and saying that she was apart of the “women whose boyfriends left them for a man” community but that thanks to neutragena, the redness isn’t as prominent on her face (link in the description /j)

and then Tucker was like i regret breaking up with you so bad i wish we can just go back to the way we were. and then Tiffany was like no, we can’t. we can’t just pretend none of this ever happened. and then storms off

AND THEN THE NEXT SCENE, Tiffany comes home like disheveled and Jesse (now they’re dating) is like babe are you okay?? you can’t just go missing for 2 whole days and say that you don’t wanna talk about it. and Tiffany has a bit of a breakdown and she’s like i miss when we were keeping our relationship hidden, but now everyone on the internet knows and everyone on the internet hates me and i cant take it anymore. We can’t talk this out, we have to break up because i can’t handle this relationship.

This ends with Tiffany screaming I JUST NEED TO BE ALONE and a glitch happens and the whole stage gets like covered in code and the lights start flashing and then the stage goes black.

THEN. Jesse appears on the side of the screen joining as an “interviewee” from the incident that happened in the IRS-P (internet reality simulation project) where a glitch happened in their simulation and that Jesse got out but Tiffany and Tucker was lost in the simulation. FUCKING PLOT TWIST, THIS IS ALL A SIMULATION.

And they were asking him questions and Jesse explained that he was honored at first that the company selected him, a small influencer, for their huge giant new project. He had just wanted to feel the rush of adrenaline of people finding him attractive and in the simulation he found Tiffany and Tucker. in every universe, he was always intertwined with Tiffany and Tucker and at first he enjoyed it but then it felt more and more like they were just using him.

and then he starts dissociating and he starts hearing the interviewer as Tucker and he starts screaming for Tucker and asking him where he is and the interviewer keeps trying to calm him down but he’s like screaming and having a breakdown because apparently he’s experienced this interview multiple times and he can’t escape (so this whole section might still be in the glitched simulation ??? or it’s a trauma reaction. unclear and likely up to audience interpretation) (Nic Ashe was incredible here, his acting was so gutwrenching)

And then eventually when he’s able to calm down, the interviewer is gone and he’s alone again and his light goes dark.

However, simultaneously to this, on the dark stage, Tiffany is in this nude suit and she’s just like. taking the stage apart and putting props all over the floor (I think the nude suits are a metaphor for them being stripped of theirselves or baring themselves to the audience/each other when Tucker comes on)

The lights come back on, Tiffany comes back on in her nude suit and she’s like confused about the home being a mess and then she collects like the 8 phones on the floor and she tries to use two to start a fire and fails. and then Tucker comes in in a nude suit too and he asks her what’s happening and she’s like idk i tried to start a fire but i don’t remember how to. and then tucker is like did you ever know how to start a fire ?? and then he tries — using two phones and successfully starts a fire.

and then Tiffany feels like super useless and then Tucker starts singing “their song” because the mood kinda stinks and then Tiffany is like ???? what the fuck dude. not the time. but then she ends up singing too (and good lord Elizabeth Lail can sing i’m gonna kill myself she’s so hot i’m gonna lose it i’m gonna lose it i’m gonna lose it i’m gonna lose jr she’s like really good at singing jrs reallt i’m actually gonna lose it holy shit.) and they have this whole moment in their nude suits where they like twirled around and sang their song.

and then they kinda go back to being emo and stuff and Tiffany is like i think the simulation glitched. do you think we’re gonna be stuck here forever? Tiffany is like the sky and the ocean have no horizon, that’s not normal. and Tucker is like huh. you’re right. and then Tiffany says she’s cold and and tucker tries to use the objects scattered across the floor to build them a fort (the tripods and a towel) and he asks tiffany if there’s anything else long to use to build the fort and she was like uhhhh there’s a ring light (i think them having the social media equipment instead of real items is a metaphor for them replacing everything truly authentic in their lives with their fake personalities online).

and then the conversation goes sour and Tucker is like i’m trying so hard because i’m worried that if i don’t try then none of us are going to be trying in this relationship. and this part was like really funny (not intentionally) because Tucker is just in this nude suit and he stands angrily away from Tiffany but because of the nude suit, he’s just double cheeked up in the corner. and here they actually genuinely have a true heart to heart talk now that it’s silent and not cluttered by their online lives. Tiffany reveals that she signed them up for the IRS-P because she wanted to see who else was out there that she might connect with better than Tucker because it’s always been him but she didn’t want to lose everything she had with him. She wasn’t content with their relationship but wasn’t ready to let go of them.

Tiffany’s character is so interesting because while she is very clearly in the wrong in the beginning of the show, she’s given more depth as a character— she’s putting on a front for most of the show but when she breaks down from everything going wrong, she admits that she doesn’t even like the sound of her own voice and that she’s made so much of her life about her online presence that she doesn’t even remember who she used to be and how to stop. She has a panic attack when her life starts kinda falling apart when Tucker leaves her but she’s also kinda selfish in that she stops seeing Tucker as his own person and just as an object to gain attention for their “perfect life”. She often shifts the blame onto Tucker when they’re arguing but when they’re in the glitched simulation (the nude suits)— she admits that she does that because she thinks she’s the problem but doesn’t know how to fix herself.

GOD I LOVE,,, ELIZABETH LAIL CHARACTERS. who needs drugs when you’ve got autism hyperfixation

Okay, and then tiffany is like fuck it. and then they both take off their nude suits (Halle-fucking-lujah by the fucking way. I felt like I was committing a crime seeing Elizabeth Lail that undressed) and jump into the “ocean” and they’re like having fun and the world glitches again and goes black.

and then the scene changes again and Jesse comes back onto stage in a suit and sits down and Tucker comes in and tries to makes a conversation and Jesse is like no i think i’m gonna go (i think this is a metaphor for jesse rejecting the simulation and chooses to not staying intertwined with Tiffany and Tucker, by proxy escaping the simulation) and Tiffany comes on in this cute blue dress and she and Tucker start flirting again.

their hair is both wet and they say that neither of them remember how they got there. and then THEIR SONG STARTS PLAYING AND THEY START DANCING WITH EACH OTHER TO THE SONG. and then it fades to black and credits

I think this is implying that Tiffany and Tucker never escape the simulation???? cause they’re very much still in the simulation in the last scene while Jesse chooses to leave.

No one is gonna be reading this whole thing but holy shit I really enjoyed that. I enjoyed the plot way more than I thought I would. More importantly, Elizabeth Lail was drop dead gorgeous 🙏 and I almost died on the spot.

^^ don’t ask me what the America TikTok was about, I can’t explain it to ya JFJWJDJ actually I think it was her acting as a conservative saying that gay men are trying to steal your man from you 💀💀💀 but it’s like meant to be satire dw

#Pretty Perfect Lives #Elizabeth Lail #Nic Ashe #Zane Phillips #nat’s rambles

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r-2-peepoo · 1 year

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The Codywan side of the SW fandom is the only fandom I’ve ever been in that hasn’t driven me absolutely insane.

Maybe it’s because I just stay on tumblr and the people on here are the only Star Wars fans I actually interact with which is why it’s been so positive, but I have been in and out of fandom spaces for well over a decade now and every single one of them has in some way ruined my enjoyment of whatever the piece of media was.

In my experience, fandom spaces are fun in the beginning and eventually toxicity seeps in and spoils it, even if you don’t engage with it directly.

However Codywan has been completely different. It’s still quite small but small fandoms have been the very worst in my experience. It’s not that there are no problems at all, but the vast majority of the people who get it.

We have a general understanding of how to characterise Cody, to the point that when we do see him in canon we can essentially predict his behaviour and his choices even if we’ve made up a lot of his personality (we understand him from the little information we’ve been given), and we understand the delicate balance of his dynamic with Obi Wan and how it could easily become unhealthy if it were anyone else, but the fact that it’s Obi Wan and Cody is why it does work so well, especially when it come to its place in actual canon.

It’s quite a delicate ecosystem but most of us seem to understand what makes it work and so calling out any potential problematic dynamics or behaviour much simpler than in other fan spaces. And a lot of us are drawn in by actually seeing a healthy ship for once. I don’t know, it’s just a really special fandom space and I feel quite protective over not just the ship itself, but the people who have worked so hard to produce fanworks and fanart for it too.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that there is no toxicity. As long as there are people, there will be toxicity. The issue with Glimmer comes to mind, and maybe it really is just on Tumblr. I don’t look at Twitter or any other social media so I really don’t know, but at the very least on this app, I feel like we’re really lucky to have this little community that we do.

#codywan #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #star wars #star wars prequels #sw

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yesimwriting · 1 year

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Final Girl (Part 10)

Final Girl Masterlist (updated chapters 1-10 and extras, asks/extras involving the final girl fic verse are under the tag ‘final girl fic’)

A/n i’m leaning towards starting to write shorter chapters in order to be able to update a little faster but idk

Series Summary: Y/n can’t believe that she has to leave the only home she’s ever known just because her mom’s latest boyfriend has a house in some town in California. Just as she’s starting to think that Woodsboro might not be that bad, something life altering happens after she agrees to sleep over at Becker’s house. Now her name is practically synonymous with Ghostface’s.

Chapter Summary: The aftermath of learning that a certain redheaded journalist is making you a focal point of her true crime novel.

----

In the least cynical way possible, sometimes I think a part of my mom craves conflict. Not in a narcissistic or violent way, just in a protective one.

She doesn’t pick fights for the sake of having them, she doesn’t tear into things for the rush of adrenaline or to feed some complex. My mom likes standing up for people in a way that would be annoyingly self righteous if it was any less genuine. Any incident that could be interpreted as blood in the water has her diving in head first, ready to ward off any potential sharks.

That’s why nothing about this rampage is surprising. She’s been pacing the length of the kitchen without giving the phone in her hand a break, typing out numbers at an unbelievable speed, only occasionally pausing to flip through the phone book on the counter.

“Well then put me through,” she stalls long enough to put a hand on her hip, “Not to an assistant, not to the station, or the publishing company. Get Gale Weathers on the phone. Now.”

This is the third time she’s pulled this stunt since I walked into the kitchen to grab a pity snack. The way she presses her lips together tells me that this time hasn’t been any more successful. “She’s too busy? Well, I hope she’s not too busy for a law su--” Something cuts her off. My mom blinks. “Hello?”

“I told you that threatening to sue people wouldn’t work over the phone.”

She pulls the phone away from her ear with a sigh. “It’s not a threat if I mean it.” The phone is placed on the counter as she turns her attention to the phone book. “That woman can’t do this. You, and your legal guardian, never consented to your likeness or story being used.”

Unfortunately, that’s not completely true. Or, at the very least, it’s not that concrete or straight forward. When something’s news, information becomes a lot less easy to claim as personal or yours. Especially if personal information is kept vague enough. The second I was attacked by Ghostface and the news reported it, a lot of me in that context became a lot less legally sound. I’d have to prove it defamed me or hurt my life, which can’t be done before the book comes out.

“We can’t prove that until the book is out.”

She sighs, “There has to be something.” My mom taps her manicured nails against the granite counter top.

My stomach twists with helplessness as the most urgent issue rushes to the front of my mind. It’s more than just someone taking advantage of my trauma or the fact that books are so much more permanent than any news headline ever could be. Books take time to come out, to circulate, which means that this tell all could reach its peak during my college app season. Princeton could see this. All colleges could see this.

“Mom...” I can feel the tremor in my voice, but I can’t bring myself to stop it.

In a way, isn’t this best case scenario? Compared to what could have happened? Isn’t this such a small thing compared to what happened to Casey? I know this, but I can’t quite bring myself to feel it fully. Not when it comes to something I’ve worked for my entire life.

“What if--what if this gets in the way of Princeton?”

She presses her lips together, watching me openly in a way that’s become familiar. “Oh, pumpkin,” she breathes, moving across the counter to pull me into a hug, “I’m sorry you’re going through this.” I squeeze her tightly. “And that I don’t know what to say or how to help.” She smooths my hair down gently. “But when it comes to school, all you can do is keep up your grades and when the time comes, write the best essay you can. And if they’re stupid enough to turn down your weirdly-good grades and insane resume, then screw Princeton.”

Despite myself, I smile. Those soft digs at my type-A-ness aren’t lost on me and the sense of familiarity I get from them instantly make it easier. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, and if you want, you could always write your own tell-all book that would outsell hers because yours is from the--”

“Excuse me?”

She lets go of me, taking a step back at my offense. “I’m not telling you to write it, I’m just saying a published book would look good on an Ivy-league application.”

Sometimes I’m so crazy about school that I forget my mom is also capable of insanity. “Mom!”

My mom lets out a sigh. “What? You’ve been obsessed with Princeton since your dad gave you his old college sweatshirt in the third grade, but now I’m crazy?”

She’s half joking and I know she’d never actually push me to write something like that, but my stomach still turns. Yes, I have made a ton of jokes about having no morals when it comes to college apps, but it’s different now. Anything that has to do with that Ghostface stuff feels tainted. I don’t want success from him. I don’t want anything good from Casey’s death.

I pick up the spoon that’s sunken into my partially melted bowl of ice cream. “I am not exploiting this.”

She holds her hands up in defense, “It’d ruin Gale’s book, jump start your career in journalism.” My mom extends an arm, asking for my spoon. I sigh before handing it to her. She eats a healthy spoonful of ice cream. “Two birds, one stone.”

I scoff, taking the spoon back and eating my own spoonful. "You’re sick.”

My mom steps back form the counter. “Just a suggestion.”

I’m about to assert my previous point when the doorbell rings. I raise an eyebrow at my mom, silently asking if I’m expecting anyone. I’m not so I just shrug, moving away from the counter and towards the door.

There’s a chance it could be Wells. He’s at work, but it wouldn’t be the first time he forgot his keys. I peak out the window and am instantly pleasantly surprised. I’m more excited than I can justify as I reach for the front door’s lock.

The door creaks open and I fight down a grin. I don’t know why they’re here, but I don’t mind the unexpected visit. I had been planning on moping and rotting in bed until school.

“Hey,” I mumble, latching onto my surprise.

Stu flashes a warm smile in greeting, “Hey, sweetheart.”

I wrinkle my nose at the nickname despite its tameness. My mom’s way too close for that. I’m torn between making a joke about it and avoiding drawing attention to my concern and giving Stu a reason to push. I settle on looking over at Billy. He’s standing in a way that feels a little stiff.

There’s a chance they called first, since they usually do when they come over through the front door instead of just showing up at my window. “If you called, my mom’s sort of taken over our phone line.” They both already know about Gale’s book and the fact that she’s editing it to include me, since they were both there when I found out. That still doesn’t make it easy to talk about, “She’s hunting down Gale Weathers.”

"Then I’m scared for Gale Weathers.” Stu raises his eyebrows, exaggerating concern.

Billy nods once, “She deserves it.”

That’s true. I wasn’t exactly kind to her during our brief meeting, but she ambushed me at school after I was attacked. But that can’t be enough to justify what she’s doing now, especially without so much as a ‘heads up, you’re in my book’ phone call. If you’re going to potentially ruin someone’s future because they happened to have survived a serial killer, it wouldn’t kill you to call first.

“Anything...else up?” Stu’s question surprises me. Maybe I didn’t react fast enough or I still look as worried about all of this as I feel.

I don’t want to get into the details of my concern. I freaked out in front of them enough after I saw Gale’s announcement on TV, but there’s no way I can get away with acting like I’m perfectly okay with it all now. I guess I’ll go with deflecting, “Just my mom being a total college obsessed psycho.”

The corner of Billy’s mouth tilts upwards, almost a smile. “You had to get it from somewhere.”

I glare at him in a way that I really hope is cutting. “Shut up. I’m not psycho.”

“I’ve seen the Princeton poster in your roo--” I shake my head sharply, extending an arm to softly punch Stu’s arm.

He stops, more out of surprise than decency. I drop my voice to a low whisper in order to explain, “My mom’s not that distracted, and she doesn’t know you’ve ever been in my room.” Stu grins at my seriousness. “And she can never find out.”

This only makes him grin more openly, “Keeping secrets for me?”

“I’m not above kicking you guys out.”

Billy sighs, a defensive huff. “I didn’t do anything.”

A slightly too aggressive you brought him here almost slips out, but I manage to stop it. Maybe if I was in a more joking, lighthearted mood I’d let myself make that kind of aggressive joke, but I’m moody and there’s a good chance my irritation will slip into that. it’ll taint the comment and make it something a lot more serious than it’s supposed to be.

“Yet,” I settle on, trying to feel as easy as the comment.

He frowns, eyebrows pulling together like he just watched me kick a puppy. After a second, Billy parts his lips, but he doesn’t get to say anything back.

“Who’s at the door?” My mom’s voice carries from the hall and to the entryway, a moment later she appears. I turn my head in time to see her polite smile, a little irate thanks to how the last day and a half have been. “Oh, hi, Billy, Stu.’’ Her greeting is flatter than usual as she barely takes a second to look up from the phone. “Come in, come in.”

I step back to create space for them to come in. Despite my mom’s instinctual fall back to politeness, she barely notices the difference as she hits redial before pressing the phone to her ear. “Do you guys want anything to drink or...are you hungry or...going...” She trails off, attention visibly shifting as she waves us off, “Hello, can I--look, that’s great, Jocelyn, but I need to get in touch with your supervisor?”

With one last force-of-habit smile, she turns away from the entryway and walks out. I walk towards the front door, instinctually shutting and locking it. “That’s basically my life now.”

“Poor thing,” Stu’s voice is thick with false sympathy, “Your mommy’s fixing everything for--”

“Shut up.” The reply comes out too quickly, too serious.

Stu blinks once, clearly not expecting the hint of actual tension and hostility that managed to press itself into the two words. “Someone’s moody.”

I squeeze my eyes shut for a long second. “Sorry, I didn’t--” Sighing, I try to force the stiffness out of my body. “This book thing’s starting to get to me. I know that’s not an excuse, I just--” I don’t know how to explain the knot in my throat or the nerves in my stomach.

The thought of this one thing I was delusional enough to think that I might be able to one day put behind me being everywhere is starting to claw at my insides. That helplessness is being amplified by a strange form of guilt, because I’m the one that’s still alive, so why should I get to complain?

“Hey,” Stu interrupts my derailing train of thought. He places a hand on my shoulder, “No hard feelings, okay?”

I nod, irritated at myself for the tears I feel burning in my eyes. “Okay.”

“You wanna get out of here?” Billy’s question is so low I almost convince myself I made it up. But then he lets out a breath and tacts on something else, “...Or we could go upstairs or watch a movie or whatever?”

The offer is so gentle I nearly melt. “Did you guys want to do something?”

They did come here, probably for a reason. Not that they never come over just to hang out, but they usually have some kind of plan or suggestion, like going over to Stu’s or driving around or watching a specific movie.

“Just wanted to see how you were doing.” Billy’s reply comes out slowly, his eyes not fully focused on me. “We called and you didn’t answer, and after the news thing...”

That’s fair. I did leave Stu’s house pretty fast after the Gale Weathers thing and haven’t talked to anyone outside of my house for over 24 hours. Usually people worrying about how I’m handling things makes me feel uncomfortably hollow, but this doesn’t make any of that come up. Maybe it’s because they’re not making it feel like pity.

“Uh...” There’s honestly not much that seems fun right now. A part of me still wants to crawl under my covers and pretend that nothing else exists, but they’ve pulled me out worse moods before. “I can show you guys that album I was talking about?” The offer feels weak, a little hollow. Stu squeezes my shoulder before relaxing his arm. “The CD’s in my room.” I shrug, looking between the two of them, “Or we could do whatever.”

“You’ve been talking about that CD for a long time for someone who always forgets to bring it.” Stu’s not even trying to hide his accusation as he starts walking down the hallway.

I cross my arms, giving Billy a look that asks if he can believe all I have to deal with. “Yeah, I’m just worried your top 20 pallet is too complex for our tastes to ever overlap.”

Stu scoffs, “Yeah, I’m the one that’s into top 20.”

“Out of the three of us?” Billy’s question rivals Stu’s blatant sarcasm.

I fight down a smile as Stu turns his head enough to glare. The display of irritation is short lived, because Stu has to turn back around to avoid tripping on the first stair step. He nearly misses, but recovers so quickly I wouldn’t have noticed the misstep if I hadn’t been looking at him. Sometimes his stability surprises me, because Stu’s energetic and lanky enough to warrant being a little clumsy, but he’s a lot better at not tripping than me.

We walk up the stairs, the only sound filling the space is my mom’s voice, too far for any specifics to be made out.

“I think I miss your mom not trusting us.” Stu lets out a wistful sigh.

Rolling my eyes, I push open the door to my room. “Don’t worry, she’s just distracted.”

Even though my mom’s phone tirade is definitely helping her be so easy, I know what he’s talking about. When Billy and Stu first started hanging around, my mom felt the need to hover a lot more. She’d check up on us a lot more than she would when I was alone with Sidney or Tatum. My mom would also make a lot of jokes and comments in order to pry as (not so) subtly as possible. Slowly, she became more accustomed (or maybe desensitized), to them and now my mom acts a lot more normal in front of them. When they leave, she normally still pushes a little, usually through humor, but it’s a lot more tolerable now.

Stu walks into my room before I can, walking towards my bed. “We’re growing on her.”

I sit down next to him. “Or she finally gets that you two barely register as guys to me.”

Stu moves, intentionally bumping his knee into mine, hard enough to make my knee move. Once he has my attention, he flexes an arm. “I’m all man, angel.”

There’s an exaggerated quality to his reaction that I can’t tell if I’m meant to take seriously or not. It’s the uncertainty that makes me let out a slight laugh. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

He turns his head, leaning back slightly as he presses his palms into my comforter. “Then how’d you mean it?”

My face feels a little warmer than before and I can’t figure out what that’s about. I’m used to Stu pressing after comments like this. Sometimes his humor focuses on making someone feel uncomfortable. Retreating or acting awkward gives him a reason to keep pushing. But I have no good way to answer.

I wipe my hands on the fabric of my jeans. “Don’t start.”

“Maybe I don’t get it.”

I stand, throwing him a dirty look as I move towards my CD player. “Maybe you’re full of shit.”

He huffs, “Mean.”

My fingers skim the row of CDs on my desk before finding the one I’m looking for. I use my nail to pop open the case. “Yeah, I’m a real bully.” Billy, who’s been lingering near my desk, opens my CD player before I can. I set the disk in place. “Can you believe him?”

Billy shakes his head once, a few strands of hair falling out of place with the motion. He picks up the CD case and starts studying the back of it. “I can’t believe you can’t.”

Stu lets out a distracted sound of protest. I wouldn’t be surprised if I turned around and found him fidgeting with something. My room’s not a total disaster, but I’ve been too busy moping to fully clean it, so there are a lot of contenders for things Stu could be messing with. I can’t think of anything that’s within his reach that’s embarrassing or important, so I let it go. Billy seems a little tense and considering the headspace he was in the last time I saw him, figuring that out is important.

“Fair,” I hum, shutting the CD player, “You uh--” His eyes flit upwards, away from the CD case. The look is kind of stiff, but not annoyed or wary. It makes me realize that I don’t really have a good way to finish my sentence. Asking if someone’s okay never feels natural. Especially when he’s only been here for a few. “You okay?” I force myself to focus on the CD player, messing with the volume instead fo just hitting play. “You seem a little tense.”

He sets the plastic case down. “I’m okay.” Billy straightens, shifting his weight off of my desk. The movement is small, he hasn’t even taken a full step, but the change makes him feel a lot closer. “Just can’t believe she can do that.” His tone takes on such a hard edge it takes me a second to realize what he’s talking about. Is the book thing really bothering him that much? “To you, to--does she think she’s untouchable? That guy’s still out there, what makes her think he won’t find her and rip that bitch’s--”

Billy cuts himself off with no warning, eyes focusing on me. I blink. Billy might come off as intense and reserved before you know him, but he’s never seemed explosive or prone to emotional impulsivity like that. Even when I briefly thought he could have been the killer, he never came off as aggressive. He never even held the fact that I put his life in danger and accused him of being a serial killer against me.

This tension is new and it came from feeling defensive over me. The realization that it has something to do over me makes me more antsy than Billy’s actual words.

“Woah,” Stu says through a dry laugh. “Relax, dude, there’s no need to write the next news story for her.” Stu swings an arm over my shoulder. I’m still stuck on what just happened, so it takes me a millisecond too long to weakly attempt to get Stu off of me. He pinches my shoulder, the nail of his thumb digging into my skin just enough for it to register as stinging. “You’re in poor Billy’s head.” I can’t tell if Stu’s teasing is meant to be sympathetic towards Billy or accusatory towards me. “Give the boy a break.”

My chin briefly tilts downwards, a compulsory movement that seems to genuinely want to listen to what’s clearly a joking command. “I’ll try.”

Stu relaxes his hold on me, dragging his thumb up and down the exposed skin of my shoulder, soothing the skin he accidentally irritated. I extend my arm, turning on the music absentmindedly. The room doesn’t exactly feel tense, but I feel a lot smaller than I did a few seconds ago. I don’t know if it’s because of the dip into a gory, too real topic or Stu’s comment or if I’m still just irritable.

“Guess it’s not your fault,” Stu hums, squeezing my shoulder once, “You can’t help being lovable.”

I try to keep myself focused as I adjust the volume of the first song. “That’s true.” He lets go of me and I stand a little straighter. “We all have our faults.”

Billy lets out a breath that’s suspiciously close to a laugh. “Yeah, your only flaw’s that you’re too perfect.”

“You were the one ready to support a murder for her,” Stu defends bluntly, “Not saying that Gale Weathers doesn’t deserve what she gets.”

In all honesty, I had been so distracted by the way the book would affect me and my chances to get past the Ghostface thing that I didn’t even think about the actual killer. This could get him to hurt someone else. Gale Weathers could be making herself a target, but I find the thought unlikely. The more I reflect on why he left me alive the more I think that it might have been because there’s more of a story when there’s a survivor. He joked with me about the final girl thing. He also called me once without attacking anyone. The asshole probably gets off on attention.

Gale Weathers is probably the safest person in this town. The more she talks, the more attention he gets. It probably also helps his ego because he knows everyone’s after him and he hasn’t been caught. It’ll probably get him to hurt someone...just not her. Not that I hope Gale gets stabbed, it just makes her choices that much more selfish.

I scratch the back of my wrist, staring at my open palm. The tiny white line, the scar carved into the skin of my hand seems bigger right now. “I don’t--it’s not like I want Gale to get hurt.”

“No one’s saying you do,” Billy says, voice patient.

I sigh, a part of me wishing this hadn’t come up. This was the last thing I wanted to think about, that’s why I’ve been ignoring calls and just focusing on homework. I walk away from my desk and sit down on my bed before slumping back semi-dramatically. If this is how Billy and Stu are acting, everyone at school is definitely going to start treating me weirdly again. Maybe Gale will be there, trying to chase me down for a quote.

Ugh...maybe I can get my mom to bully the principle into letting me homeschool for a few days. A week maximum. Or maybe she’ll let me pretend to have mono or something. I have most of my textbooks here and I could get assignments from--

My bed dips, cutting off my train of thought. I turn my head enough to see Billy. “I--” His voice comes out so low I’m surprised I even heard him over the music. “I didn’t want to bring all of that up for you.”

There’s a softness there that makes it easier to genuinely shake my head dismissively. “It’s okay.”

His eyes briefly meet mine. “I also didn’t uh--didn’t want to freak you out or--”

“You didn’t.” That’s true, at least in the way he meant it. That level of anger over something that only really affects me did surprise me, but it’s not like he scared me. He hesitantly focuses his attention on me. I prop my head up on one elbow, watching him carefully. “You’re not as scary as you think you are.”

Billy tilts his head, his lips tugging into an uncertain smile. “Oh, yeah?”

He’s probing, likely trying to trick me into a compliment. “You’re losing your edge.” I keep my voice as nonchalant as possible as I drop my elbow and lay down again. “I think it’s all the time around me.”

His eyebrows draw together like he’s seriously considering my hypothesis. “Valid theory.” The bed moves with no warning, the space to my left indenting. Billy lays down next to me without moving to make sure there’s enough space between me and the headboard. His arm presses into mine. “All the time in here can’t be helping either.”

Billy does come over to my room a lot, usually crashing here when he needs to avoid his dad and doesn’t want to talk about it. Recently, though, he hasn’t been around as much. I didn’t think too much of it until I went over to Stu’s and saw that Billy wasn’t up for much of anything. “It’s the exposure to all the fluffy pillows.”

“Probably.” Something warm brushes against the back of my wrist. Billy carefully traces an invisible line up my forearm. “This song’s nice.”

The warmth of validation tugs at my chest. “It’s my favorite one on here.” He follows the same trail back down the inside of my forearm. “I think you’ll like the uh--” There had been a specific one on the track list that reminded me of a few songs he had shown me before. I list the titles in my head until I remember the right one, “Fourth track.”

“Hm,” he hums in a way that doesn’t feel dismissive, just relaxed.

The bed shifts again. I crane my neck back, eyes straining to see behind me. After a second, I make out Stu circling my nightstand. “This is new.” He’s picking something up. Stu sits back down, making it easier to see what’s caught his attention.

Oh. Not new, but I don’t blame him for not having my bookshelf memorized. “Not new.” He turns the book onto its side, studying the worn spine as if to confirm what I’m saying. “Just haven’t read it in a minute, thought it might cheer up.”

There have been few problems that American Psycho and Patrick Bateman haven’t been able to at least help. It didn’t make me feel a lot better, but it was nice to distract myself from a real life murderer with the fictitious kind.

Stu pauses, skimming the back of the book. “A little dark for a pick me up.”

“It’s well written.”

That’s true, and its commentary on social values and the rise of well off, stockbroker success and the culture that’s developed because of it is interesting and a creative analysis of society’s values. It also helps that despite being written with only a few redeeming qualities and being the literal villain (and weirdly misogynistic), I might have the smallest bit of a thing for Patrick Bateman. Not that I’d ever go for anyone like that in real life, but my fascination with his character is definitely a guilty pleasure. A guilty pleasure they really don’t need to know about.

He thumbs through the pages, attention focused like he’s actually reading it all that fast. Stu nods once, setting the book down at the edge of my bed before picking up a sweatshirt I almost forgot was still on my bed. He takes a second to feel the fabric of the sleeve before loosely folding it. Stu leaves it next to my book before laying down.

We’re all lying horizontally now, but Stu’s backwards, his head closer to my torso and legs than anything else. The position makes it easy for me to secretly move my hand and softly flick his shoulder. Stu snaps his head in my direction, expression so shocked and slightly horrified I might as well have slapped him.

It’d probably be smart to backtrack, but I’m clearly in no mood to make intelligent decisions, so I let myself laugh. The sound is a quick, too-smug giggle. Stu’s eyebrows pull together at the sound, the look concerning in its seriousness. I move to pull my hand back, but my reaction is too late. Stu throws his hand forward, grasping onto my wrist. I yank back once, had enough to be considered serious. Stu squeezes tighter, pulling my arm forward with an ease that embarrasses me.

“Stu!” A partial squeak, a partial laugh.

He squeezes my arm to his chest, forcing my body to lean forward. I squirm, attempting to slip out of his grasp. I come close to escaping when I twist my arm back and turn my wrist without warning him, but Stu recovers. Growing desperate, I use my free hand to shove his shoulder. That backfires, too, encouraging him to use his other hand to keep me trapped.

The play fight escalates, both of us trying to win without getting up or seeming too invested. My wrist makes a cracking sound as I finally slip out of his hold. He’s quick to throw his arm forward and grab me again. Before I can even think to react, Stu tugs my hand upwards and briefly nips the side of my hand.

I gasp so dramatically one might think he tried to gnaw off my entire hand. “Did you just bite me?” Stu laughs, finally letting me take my arm back. I take a second to examine my hand, even though his teeth barely touched me. After deciding that my unmarked skin will one day recover, I prop myself up on my forearm and look over at Billy. “He fucking bit me.”

Billy turns his head, unbothered by our conflict. “You started it.” There’s an underlying smugness that makes me want to shove him. I frown openly, not caring if I get accused of pouting. He sighs, holding up a hand. “Fine. Let’s see the damage.”

“I didn’t even touch her.”

I roll my eyes at Stu’s defense. Did it hurt? No, but it was deeply offensive. “You’re lucky I don’t bite you.”

Stu lets out a breath, “Sweetheart, you can bi--”

“Do not.” I keep my voice stern as I look at Billy’s waiting hand. He asked to see the damage, but there really isn’t any. The skin beneath my thumb wasn’t even grossly damp. It was more about my shock. But I still listen, setting my hand on his.

Billy pulls on my hand gently, studying my skin intently. He even takes a second to bend my fingers and stretch them back out. “Think you’ll live.”

I nod, letting Billy take his time still examining my hand. “Optimistic prognosis.”

He shrugs slightly, his shoulder bumping into mine. “Only if you’ve had all your shots.”

Stu’s scoff and offended, “Fuck off,” are nearly drowned out by my laughter. Billy sets my hand down between us carefully. My giggling fit is drawn out by the rush of fondness in my chest. These two really are so much weirder than people realize and I wouldn’t change it for anything. Wow. They really are my best friends, and maybe arguably the most important people in my life.

Feeling this close to anyone usually makes me want to be flighty. I’m not used to it when it comes to people I haven’t known my entire life, and there’s an inherent nervousness when it comes to growing attached to people you don’t completely know. It is kind of weird to feel this close to them and I haven’t even seen Billy’s room yet, so it makes sense that sometimes it feels different than what I’m used to.

“What are you thinking about?” The question takes me by surprise, breaking the easy silence that’s been carried by the soft music.

I blink at Billy’s words, a small part of me reacting like I’ve been caught doing something embarrassing. “Uh...nothing.” Fairly true. It’s not like my train of thought was focused or made much sense. Still, though, I should probably give him something more so he doesn’t assume that I’m trying to hide a mental break down. “...That you’re one of my best friends and I’ve never been to your house before.”

Stu lightly squeezes my forearm. “You’re not missing much.”

“You bit me,” I mumble, “What do you know?”

He relaxes his hold on me in order to run his knuckles up and down my arm. “It was a love bite.”

“Like a feral cat.”

Stu scoffs. “This is why Billy doesn’t want you at his place.”

Wow. Rude. I part my lips, ready to insult him. “Okay,” Billy interjects, “Don’t start again.” A part of me’s offended by the defense. I should be able to fight Stu over this. “You guys are kids.”

I glare, “Rude.”

“Fine, let him bite you again.” My nose wrinkles, but before I can say anything, Billy continues, “And he’s not wrong, you’re not missing much.”

He’s probably right, I’ve just been thinking about it a little more than usual. “Until I see it, I’m going to think that your bedsheets are bright pink.”

“Actually, they’re bright purple.”

The sarcasm comes out so quickly, so casually, I almost think he means it. “Nice try, but I’m still assuming neon pink.”

He sighs, “It’s neon now?” The question’s mumbled, and before I can say anything back, Billy sits up.

Stu turns onto his side, eyebrows drawn together in order to silently ask what’s up with Billy. “What are you doing?”

“If she’s going to make up things about my room until she sees it...” He walks away from my bed, stopping close to my door. “We should get it over with.”

Oh my god?? I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. I also wasn’t prepared for the wave of excitement buzzing in my chest. I sit up too quickly, too telling. “Really?”

It’s a casual thing that I really don’t want to make weird, but I wasn’t angling to get him to take us over there. And the thought is nice, they’re my best friends and a bedroom gives insight into a person. It’s also the perfect distraction after everything that’s happened today.

“Yeah? Really?”

Billy shrugs, already reaching my door. “It’ll be better than whatever she makes up about it.”

A good point, because I was already thinking about ways to work in an assumption about him having zebra print lampshades and posters pulled from pre-teen magazines. “Am I getting that predictable?”

He raises his eyebrows and Stu tries to conceal a laugh. I roll my eyes as Billy returns the question, “Getting?”

“Haha.” Why do I hang out with them? I take back all the warm, fuzzy thoughts about them.

I push myself to my feet, looking for my shoes. Stu sits up, waiting for me to find my sneakers. Because I was planning on hiding in my room until school, I almost didn’t change out of pajamas and now I’m glad I changed into some leggings and a comfortable shirt this morning.

My shoes were hiding underneath a pillow. I free them and sit on the edge of my bed to pull them on. Stu taps my knee, getting me to turn. “What?”

He pats his lap once, implying something I don’t get. When I don’t react quickly enough, Stu sighs and bends forward. He pulls on my laces. “I can--” It’s too late, he’s already looped them once and is working on doing it again. “Double knotted?”

Stu squeezes my ankle after tying my last shoe. “You trip too much for me not to.”

I scoff, “You were almost nice.”

“I’m always nice to you, angel.”

rolling my eyes, I move to stand after Stu straightens.

“Grab a jacket,” Billy mumbles, “It’s cold.”

If my mom could see this, she’d never make another joke about him again. Actually, she’d probably say he’s one of my only friends with good sense. “Nerd.”

He gives me a more-than-slightly-annoyed look as I reach for the jacket hanging on my desk chair. I make a point of holding up the jacket before folding the fabric over my arm.

----

It’s a lot harder to not look like a little kid on a field trip than one would think. Maybe it’s the jacket that’s gone from neatly folded over my arm to a wadded up lump pressed snugly into my chest, held in place by my crossed together arm. The spring in my step could be part of the problem, a slight bounce that has to be a result of the touch of fall chilliness in the air and has absolutely nothing to do with internal excitement. That’d be way too dramatic.

Billy unlocks the door and pulls it open. Stu walks in first, I follow. We walk down a short entryway that leads to a main living area. The living area is put together, radiating a neatness that almost feels clinical. Maybe that’s an exaggerated way of taking in the precisely angled arm chairs and the glass figurine that’s sitting on the coffee table, but I can’t help the thought. It has to be a byproduct of the ‘organized chaos’ my mom raised me on, a stack of magazines in the living room that never seem to fully straighten and unmatched pillows that get paired together to tell a story.

The space is nice, though, some underlying factor I can’t pinpoint making it still feel a little homey. It’s almost like the room’s covered by an invisible cloak that makes it clear that people live here, that this isn’t some open house. I take my time looking around the room, trying to find a source for this feeling.

There are a few framed photos, but none of them revolving around family enough to offer a homey feel, just pictures of a little boy growing up. The fuzzy one of the boy at maybe the age of six stands out on the coffee table, his smile reveals a missing tooth in a way that makes it a personal favorite. For a second, I think the subtle lived in atmosphere could be coming from the few knick knacks on the coffee table and book shelf, but quickly rule that out. Sure, they’re objectively nice decorations but they don’t fit together in that way. There’s no way a dad didn’t pick them out.

I guess the feeling comes from the details. The most comfortable looking arm chair is the one closest to the bookshelf even though that corner of the room is almost a little too cramped for the two to sit next to each other. The rug matches the walls and the couch in a way that makes the cream colored pillows seem sad and out of place.

“Is it everything you thought it’d be?”

Stu’s voice snaps me out of my train of thought. I nod once, stepping towards the coffee table. My hand reaches forward, picking up the picture of the kid with the missing tooth. “Oh, most definitely.”

Billy sighs at the same time Stu lets out a quick, easy laugh. “That’s a good one.”

“Put it down,” Billy mumbles halfheartedly, but it’s too late. Stu’s at my side, taking the smooth frame. He holds it up and then down, squinting like he’s studying a complex work of art. “This was a mistake.”

I grin, “Once again, most definitely.”

“You used to be a real softie.” Stu delivers the comment in a way that feels almost factual. I bite down a joke about how used to feels like an exaggeration as Stu sets down the frame.

Billy frowns a little too pointedly. “Yeah, I was the one that was sensitive.”

I turn my head towards Stu, who’s stiffer than he was too seconds ago. There’s definitely a story there. “What’s that about?”

“Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” Stu pouts, lazily extending an arm in my direction. “He’s always been jealous of me.”

Mhm. I roll my eyes, sighing as I reluctantly step forward and meet him halfway. Stu squeezes my shoulder. The gesture is gentle enough, but I still halfheartedly try to push him off. “Yeah, jealous sounds like the right word.”

He huffs. “Don’t be mean.”

I force my thumb downwards. My nail pinches at my skin a little but it works, I get in between the fabric of my shirt and Stu’s palm. He curves his hand to give me the space I need. “I’m never mean.” He tries to squeeze my thumb down flat. “Seriously, though,” I turn my head enough to look at Billy, “Story?”

Billy tilts his head just enough for me to notice and his eyebrows pull together. The feeling that he’s silently trying to tell me something I can’t interpret tugs at me briefly. He straightens his stance before I can read too much into the look. “Imagine that with the impulse control of a seven-year-old, that’s the story.”

Stu being a former terror is a topic that’s been touched on before. Usually, the issue with befriending people that have known each other their entire lives is that you’ll never have the childhood experiences together. You’ll never know whose parents hosted the sleepovers or who had constantly scraped knees or who went through an embarrassing obsession with some child targeted franchise.

It’s a fair thing thing to be intimidated by. And normally, it’d sting from time to time, but with them it rarely does. I like hearing the stories, like the details that come up.

Stu scoffs in complaint, fighting back with renewed interest as I come close to freeing my shoulder.

“He used to have a thing for bugs,” Billy offers after a second, “Didn’t like when people would mess with hives and-and food routes or whatever.”

The hand on my shoulder nearly goes slack. I blink, twisting my neck to look at Stu, whose staring straight ahead. “Shut up.” The words come out uncharacteristically passive, and maybe even a little flat.

Picturing Stu as one of those insect fact kids wouldn’t come to me naturally, but it does kind of fit. Not the defending them, but the interest in something that gets people to react.

“Really?”

Stu sighs, “Not really.” Again, a surprisingly flat defense. “I didn’t have a thing...just thought they were...” He lifts one shoulder in a shrug, “Cool.”

“So cool you had to put a beetle in Valerie Thompson’s cubbie.”

...And there it is. I laugh despite myself, imagining a second-grade Stu and some poor girl getting into some kind of argument and then later finding something crawling between her crayons and coloring sheets. Maybe it’s a good thing we met when we did. Little me could be a monster in her own way, a way that wouldn’t have fit theres. “That poor girl.”

“Valerie Thompson had it coming,” Stu says, “Y’know what she was like.”

I don’t know if it’s weird that I assumed that Stu was talking to me or both of us instead of just talking to Billy. The comment was small, offhanded and focused on a topic only they know about. It’s fair for him to not be talking to me. Rationally, I get it. That doesn’t mean I like it, though.

I’ve seen them interact in ways that make it feel like everyone else is invisible. They get each other like that. Anyone that’s around them long enough to see them relax has to get it. It’s the kind of understanding that makes people insecure about their own best-friendship. Not that it makes me feel like that. Most of the time.

Something about it right now burns more than usual. My feelings aren’t hurt, I’m not upset because that wouldn’t be fair, but I’m not comfortable and breezy either. That just makes it worse, why does it feel different now?

Maybe my irritability is a result of multiple things. All I’ve had to today is a few spoonfuls of the ice cream that I mainly picked at so that my mom wouldn’t worry and I’ve had no water. The whole book thing has been stressful, too, and the pulsing ache of a migraine is starting to settle behind my right eye.

It was nice of Billy to invite me over because I asked, but maybe it’s too early for me to be out again. Maybe what I need is the safe enclosure of my bedroom, dim lighting, and a nap.

I try to shake off my discomfort by acting on instinct. The instinct of a feral toddler that isn’t getting enough attention. I twist my thumb, poking his hand with my nail. I’m not being mean about it, but I could have been gentler. Stu doesn’t react, which only adds to my annoyance.

My knuckles bend, giving me the space I need to get enough leverage to separate Stu’s hand from my arm. He lets me.

“Guess he hasn’t changed that much since he bit you today.”

The direct comment has me easing slightly. I get myself to smile. “Clearly.”

Billy takes a partial step forward, “You good?”

I scratch the back of my arm, trying to ground myself in the present. Be normal. “Yeah...just tired.” Which is true enough. I wipe at my face, pinching the bridge of my nose in an attempt to control the dull pain. “And I feel like I’m getting a headache.”

He nods, expression cloudy. “You want tylenol or water or...something.”

Pull it together. I force my hands to my side as I shake my head once. “I’m okay, just spaced out for a second.”

“You need to lay down?” Stu tilts his head, watching me like a part of him thinks I could faint.

My fingertips press into my side. “I’m good, it’s just a migraine.” This is what happens when someone decides to write a book about the most traumatic thing I’ve ever gone through. “Probably just stress.” They’re staring attentively. I can’t blame them for their concern. If I freaked out right now, this wouldn’t be my first meltdown. The fact that it’s warranted makes everything feel like too much. “Can we get back to analyzing Billy’s baby pictures? I think I saw one with a pool floaty on the bookshelf.”

“Baby pictures are low tier.” Stu briefly lifts a hand before dropping it dismissively, swiping at the air. “The real making fun of Billy’s in his room.”

“Really?”

"Yep. All the angst.”

Intriguing. “All the angst and pink sheets, right?”

“Neon.”

Billy sighs once, reluctantly stepping forward. This is all out of his control now. “You two don’t need to be around each other.”

He walks past the couch, approaching a hall that leads away from the living room. Stu turns his head the second Billy’s back is to us. “So jealous of us.”

Despite myself, I smile, finally feeling a bit more at ease. “So.”

We walk down the hall together. Billy’s fully ditched us, but Stu knows where we’re going. The hall is short, we pass one door before Stu stops us in front of one that’s partially open. He opens it fully with a gentle push and walks in without a second thought.

I’m still stepping into the room when the bed creaks loudly thanks to the sudden addition of Stu’s weight. He’s making himself just as at home as he does in my room, rolling onto his stomach to reach for a pillow to tuck beneath him.

Billy sighs from his desk chair, moving his legs off the foot of the bed. “What did we say you were? Seven?”

Stu cranes his neck, glaring at Billy before relaxing again. “And a half.”

“Feels generous.” The joke comes out instinctually, but my attention’s already divided.

Billy’s room is made up of deep blue-grey walls, not quite dark but nowhere close to light either. All the furniture is made of dark wood that matches the hardwood of the floor. The room is decorated a little neater than one would expect for a teenage boy, a few posters that are sized too well to not have been picked out carefully. They’re movie themed, though nowhere near as openly gory or sexualized as the one’s in Stu’s.

Everything’s also nicely organized. Like, even more organized than my room. No clothes on the floor or laundry sitting in a basket or on a chair in a pile that’s left to grow until it eventually topples over. What I can see of his desk is also put together, no assignments or unfinished books or projects cluttering the surface.

I walk towards the bed, siting down on the edge. The comforter is navy blue and a lot softer than I thought it’d be. His sheets are dark colored, neutral plaid. Not hot pink or an obnoxious shade of purple, unfortunately. I can’t bring myself to mind being wrong. The space is really Billy in a reserved sort of way. It fits him.

“No pink sheets.” Billy’s voice snaps me out of my analysis. It’s a good thing, too, because I was probably seconds away from touching things on his bookshelf and messing with the lamp and being nosey about knick knacks. I’d feel worse about the desire to pry and investigate for entertainment’s sake if both of them weren’t constantly looking through my things.

My hand brushes the edge of the sheet that’s folded over. “Disappointing.” I twist awkwardly to better look at him. Billy’s bouncing his leg, not looking at anything in particular. “But besides that, it’s nice and not as embarrassing as Stu said it’d be.”

Billy’s eyebrows draw together, “As?”

Stu props his head up on one elbow despite the fact that most of his arm sinks into a pillow. “Look through his underwear draw and then we’ll talk.”

I laugh, surprising myself with how loud and genuine it is. The suddenness aggravates the background soreness of a headache. I ignore it. “You’ve looked through his underwear drawer?”

“It--” Stu cuts himself off with a sigh that sounds suspiciously close to a laugh, letting his head fall back onto the pillow.

Our laughing fit ends as Billy stands up. “Where are you going?”

He walks around the bed, barely glancing over at me to answer, “Give me a second.” ...Okay? “Don’t look through my underwear drawer.”

“No promises,” Stu calls after him.

Billy doesn’t react, extending an arm and instinctually half-shutting the door. Stu adjusts, forcing himself to sit up. He’s farther back on the bed than me, but his legs are so long his knees are nearly level with mine. “We’re not really gonna do that are we?”

Stu half laughs-half scoffs, wrinkling his nose and scrunching his eyes together in pretend disgust. “I’m good.” I smile. “We can tell him we did, though.”

“We should also tell him we found something really embarrassing.” Stu raises his eyebrows and I immediately regret it. I scoff, reaching back to smack his arm. “Not like that, I meant like a stuffed animal or something.”

“Don’t you have stuffed animals?”

My posture stiffens, a tiny part of me offended that he’s implying that my children are something I should be embarrassed about. “That’s different.” I frown, thinking of the one stuffed animal that lives on my bed and the few that live around my room. “And you said you liked them.”

Stu never said that, but he has implied it. Nothing crazy, just a few debates between a duck my mom had given me as a child and a bear from my grandparents. He even asked about their names.

He shrugs, turning towards me. His knee taps against mine. “I’m not complaining.” I narrow my eyes, skeptical if this is leading into some kind of joke. “As long as Daisy leaves Blueberry alone.”

I fight down a laugh, because laughing would undo all of the work I’ve put in to convincing him that making up lore about my stuffed animals is something he should stop. “You made that up.”

He tilts his head, “That’s what Daisy wants you to think.”

“I don’t even think you actually remember which one’s Daisy and which one’s Blueberry.”

Stu gasps like I’ve slapped him. “Daisy’s obviously the duck with the--the sweater--blue sweater with daisies--and Blueberry’s the bear in overalls.”

This time, the giggle slips out. I’m still not convinced he’s not making fun of me in some way or setting up for some kind of joke, but the way he grins might make it worth it. “Too easy. Which one’s Jellybean?”

He presses his lips together to demonstrate serious thought. “The...bookshelf one. The bunny with the--the ears.” Stu lifts a hand, using his fingers to try to draw something long and floppy in the air. “The grey one.” I grin. “And the last one’s French Fry, the dog on your desk for good luck.”

“Okay,” I manage reluctantly, a confession pulled out like a tooth, “You did a good job.”

Stu’s smile impossibly widens, reaching forward to wrap an arm around me. “I know my girl.”

I sigh, mumbling a quick, “Not your girl.” Stu ignores me, squeezing me to him a little more confidently. “And you know I don’t actually think French Fry’s lucky anymore, he just lives there.”

He scoffs, “Don’t talk about French Fry like that, babe, all he does is guard your homework.”

I frown, craning my neck to look at him, “Are you making fun of me?”

“No,” he breathes the word out in a way that makes it feel like the opposite of what it means.

Some joke about how French Fry’s going to have to start guarding me from him is almost out of my mouth when something creeks. Billy’s opening the door, a glass in his hand. He extends the glass towards me. I take it instinctually, even though I have no idea what the water’s about.

“Drink,” Billy says, already moving to the other side of the bed, “For your head.”

Ah. Not the first time Billy’s blamed an issue on me not drinking enough water. Even though I didn’t ask for anything, the gesture makes my chest feel warm. I take a few long sips. “Thanks.”

Billy nods once, sitting at the edge of the bed. Stu twists himself to make it easier to look at Billy. “You know she just said French Fry’s not lucky.”

“Wow,” Billy shrugs, a distinctly sarcastic lilt to his shock, “That’s blasphemous.”

I roll my eyes before drinking some more water. “I just meant that I’m not like five and that I don’t actually think he can bark away the bad grades.” A barely covered laugh overlaps with the last of my words. I snap my head towards Billy. “What?”

“Bark away the bad grades?” Okay, it sounds dumb now, but when I was younger the thought of doing my homework in the presence of French Fry was comforting. A school counselor recommended him to keep me calm during tests and now he’s just a good omen. “You just--you don’t seem like you were that weird a kid and then you say--”

“I was not weird!” A little defensive for someone that was in the fourth grade with a stress plushy. “I was--I was like one of those kids that was basically an extra excited old person.”

Stu’s arm slips off me as he adjusts the way he’s sitting. “Yeah, that sounds normal.”

Really? After what’s been established about him? “Okay, bug boy.”

He glares, openly offended. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Sure.”

“Okay.” Billy’s interjection tells me that he’s hitting his petty fight limit earlier today than usual. He only tries to preemptively intervene when he’s hitting a specific wall that Stu and I make people realize they have. “Before you guys start fighting like little kids, have you had lunch yet?”

Unless you count a bowl of ice cream that ended up abandoned in my kitchen...

Stu sits up a little more, “Nope.” He turns his head enough to look at me, “What about you, angel?”

I tap my nails against my knee. “Not yet.”

“Wanna go to that pizza place?” Stu offers, already moving towards the edge of the bed to stand.

The thought of food isn’t particularly appealing, but I’ve moved past the stage of panic that made the thought of eating nauseating. What is nauseating is what could happen if I go out in public. Gale Weathers has been nonstop promoting her book. What if someone recognizes me? It was bad enough when the attack first happened and my school was buzzing with journalists...Now things are confirmed and Gale Weathers can’t keep my name out of her mouth.

My grip on the glass of water tightens, “Sure.”

“We can do something else if you want?”

Ugh...a selfish part of me wishes I had it in me to pretend not to hear the hint of uneasiness in Stu’s voice. I could shake my head and say that pizza’s good, blame my hesitance on the beginnings of a migraine and sleep depravation.

“It’s not...” Both of my hands grasp the glass. I press my thumb against the rim with enough tension to leave a red line indented into my skin. “She’s still talking about it and--and I saw some other show doing a segment on it and my name came up like three times in the five minutes that I watched.”

It’s going to take over my life. Slowly but surely, it’ll take more and more. The buzz will die down and the side stares and not-so-mumbled comments will stop, because they did before. But then the book will come out and it will start again, and by the time it stops being super relevant it’ll be linked to my identity. Colleges will see it, any job that requires a background check will find it in seconds, and all it takes is for one person to find out and then it’s everywhere.

What if I get into a great school and start making friends and then one person realizes they’ve seen my name before or looks into Gale’s career for whatever reason and then suddenly it’s everywhere? It’ll cling to me like a shadow, the label of victim the kind one and the conspiracy theorists...

“You don’t have to put up with it.” Billy’s voice is low, almost unfeeling. I don’t get what he’s saying. Billy understands my question before I can ask. “The Gale thing--if she wants to use your name every two seconds to promote her book, you should let her know you’re not okay with it. Don’t make it easy for her, you’re not helpless.”

The sharpness in his tone doesn’t feel aggressive, it’s urging. Honest. “Sorry, that was--”

“Don’t be sorry.” I mean it. The directness and the lack of coddling forced me out of my the-world-is-ending spiral. My mom’s trying to track Gale Weathers down logically, but with someone that doesn’t mind playing underhanded to get what she wants, you have to work the same way. She ambushes people all the time. “I think I needed to hear it.”

Gale’s office is probably in a public directory, and if it’s not, she’ll probably try to find me at school. There’ll be a chance to tell her off, a chance to stop her. Or at least, to get her to stop mentioning me like I’m a tagline.

“We’ll take her down,” Stu encourages, gently bumping his fist against my arm, “After food.” He stands up, the bed shifting beneath his weight. “C’mon, if anyone looks at you, I’ll beat ‘em up.”

I roll my eyes, letting Stu pull on my free hand until I stand up. “You offer to do that a lot. I think you just want to beat someone up.”

“Nah, if I did, I’d just punch Billy.”

Billy lets out an exhausted sigh as he stands. “Seriously?”

“What? I’d say I’d punch her, but she scares me a little.” Considering how often Stu and I do fight each other, I really doubt it. “She fights dirty.”

“Yeah.” Billy’s agreement comes out suspiciously fast as he opens the door. “I’ve seen her kick your ass.”

----

a/n billy and stu when someone else takes advantage of y/n’s trauma: 🤯🤬

also next chapter should be a lot messier hehehe

Taglist: @cole22ann @womenarecannibals @fand0mskullfa1ry @princessleah129 @i-amnotokaywiththis @fvcking-gxddess @suckmyass-things @im-better-than-your-newborn @michibuni @bigenargy @marli-lavellan @mushy-mushroom04 @neenieweenie @lone-ray @the-ruler-of-death @andthevillainshallrises @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @dixbolik-bby @thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth @peachycupotea @my5tica1ien @agustdeeyaa @astrial @3ll0kittylvr420 @zoleea-exultant @slaypussypop-21 @aonungs-tsahik @finnydraws @slytherhoes @vxarak @xofeeeeelsxo @thewayiknowyou @yourslashersfinalgirl @winterridinghood @maggieleighc @kobababysblog @moved2burntrubbertoast @gamecrew209 @idkf-loll @wolfgirl-205 @ultimatequeenieofsass @kathanibennett @itsjuststaticnoises @brittney69 @domaniquessidehoe @kaydesssssssss @superhighschoollevelnerd-blog1 @classicbandtrash83 @itzz-me-duh

#scream #scream x reader #scream 1966 #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #stu macher #stu macher x reader #ghostface #ghostface x reader #poly!ghostface #Poly! Ghostface x Reader #finagl girl fic

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recklessramos · 6 months

Text

Blissful

Will Ramos x plus size fem reader

18+!!

So the other day I had a thought about Will that just wouldn’t shift from my mind so I decided to take it to my blessed notes app, which made the thought turn into a writing idea. Suddenly I have almost 10,000 words and if I don’t post this I think I’ll go crazy. I’ve put my whole pussy into this (lmao) and it’s ma cursed baby however this is the first smut I’ve written since 2021 so be kind:))))

Warnings-

9,692 words of absolutely feral smut I am disgraceful!!, mentions of negative body image and reader being on a healing journey, sickening fluff, mentions usage of weed, PIV sex, unprotected sex (all together now ‘wrap it before you tap it!’) oral (male and female rec), Will is PACKING, soft dom(?) Will, use of ‘slut’, lots of dirty talk, flirting, hair pulling, cum play, clit spanking, light choking, spanking, spit, edging (fem rec), overstimulation, pet names, use of ‘y/n’ I think that’s everything but let me know if I’ve forgot anything!

This is completely self fulfilling lmao😭😭 Also the whole writing process of this felt so blissful(ly frustrating😭😭) so ofc I had to call it blissful. Also because it’s Will duh.

Even though this was written with a curvy reader in mind, this is for everyone!!! We all deserve love and appreciation (and earth shattering pleasure)!!!!

Also please excuse the low quality collage I made, I tried my best💀 Anyway I’m going straight to hell and I’m going there happy and horny🤍

GIF credits: julien-mayfair and all the pics in the collage are from Pinterest so dm me for removal!

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You’d been struggling with your body image recently and even though you persevered with your affirmations, vigorous self-care and weekly therapy the thoughts still clouded your mind throughout the day. Will was aware of the fact you were on a healing journey and you couldn’t ask for more from him.

He was there with you on the easier days when you flaunt all your curves and see no issue on having your stretch marks peeking through your crop tops, or how your back rolls are hugged by your shirt. He loved seeing how your outfit hugged your curves, how you smile at yourself while repeating your affirmations in the mirror. He would even repeat them back to you, ‘you are so worthy, so loveable and so fucking beautiful’ he’ll say to you as his hands sneak from your waist to cup your stomach with soft fingers and his adoring grin that never failed to make your stomach flutter.

On the days like today when the thought of standing in front of a mirror causes your stomach to spin with anxiety, eyes brimming with tears, he’d wrap his arms around you so you could hide your face in his chest as he spoke your affirmations to you. It may take five or ten minutes of staying with your back to the mirror and your face in his chest before you can turn to face your reflection but when you do the bright, warm smile Will showcases is enough to make your chest swell in love and appreciation.

He whispers gentle words of unconditional love in your ear as your eyes scan over your body, you breathe through the discomfort and focus on staying calm and centred. At first the affirmations you repeat feel ridiculous, but after five minutes your shoulders have released their tension and you're beginning to ease into your body.

There’s gentle music playing in the background of your conversation with Will, which only consists of sweet words and soft laughter as he tickles over the sides of your torso. You move from standing in front of the mirror to sitting on the floor, crossed legged with Will behind you. His legs are out on either side of you giving you easy access to lean back into his body, his clothed chest pressing into your back. You can sit comfortably like this for hours, just you and him and the reflection of you you're learning to become acquaintances with. Luckily for you this was both your day off from work, so it can be spent with just you two in your home, smoking weed, cooking your favourite meals while singing along to some of your favourite songs together.

With a full belly and a blissfully cloudy mind from the joint you shared after the time spent in front of your mirror, you end up on the couch cuddled under a blanket watching one of Will’s favourite movies. Your bodies are intertwined, your mind at ease from any negativity. When you’re together like this, nothing else matters.

After a couple hours you start to fidget through boredom, tapping your foot to the sound of nothing and letting out exaggerated sighs every now and again. It’s not that the movie that Will chose for you to watch was boring, it was just that you couldn’t stop thinking about all the other things you could be doing together. You saw yourself on your knees, arms pulled back and pinned to your back by Will, face pushed into the sofa while Will rammed into you at a torturously slow and hard pace. You picture how your ass will slap into the ending dip of his v lines, how deep the tip of his cock will land in your throbbing pussy.

‘What- why can’t you keep still?’ you freeze in reaction to Will’s question, not even realising you’d been shifting your hips around in an unknowing effort for some relief from the ache on your clit. ‘Uh- I’m not even moving!’ you try to argue back but he drops his eyebrows, slightly squinting his eyes suspiciously. ‘I’m just trying to get comfy.’ You try in hopes that he doesn’t figure out that the movie he’d chose just wasn’t keeping you distracted from the lustful thoughts that burned into your mind, but to no avail as a smirk pulled at his lips. Will could read you like an open book, there was no hiding when you were sad or feeling insecure or so horny you were about to start grinding the couch cushions.

‘Hmm is that true?’ his tone dropped, he knew you were lying and that you were really aching for him to touch you, but it’s Will- of course he’s not going to give you what you want right away. You only replied by slightly nodding, you could either give in and tell him what you want, or you could be the stubborn brat you often chose to be in these situations just to find out what could happen on the other end of things; the grass is greener on the other side after all.

Right?

‘Yeah, we might have to think about getting some new cushions for the couch. These ones are awfully uncomfortable.’ you mutter back, jutting your hips around at the end of your sentence just to back up your case. Also so you can try and ease the throbbing that was making your stomach ache and pussy clench around nothing. You needed to be filled up by his cock right now.

For a long moment you both stare at each other, waiting for the other to say something. The air was becoming heavy, your body was curving into him as a reaction to the thought of having his cock in you. He noticed this change in your body, chuckling slightly and shaking his head.

‘We could always go to bed if it’s that much of an issue that you can’t focus on the movie.’ He nodded his head towards the stairs, you manage to hide the raise in your eyebrows as the idea makes you press your thighs together.

‘It’s only eight.’ You glance down at his lips as you continue your exploration on how far you can take it till you give in. Will could never give in, he’d happily tease you for the rest of the night if you choose to go along with it, he had before and he’d do it again, so it all came down to how long you could hold out for.

‘I can think of a few things that’ll keep us busy for the next couple hours.’ His fingers trace your jawline ever so slightly, your lips parted and he took the opportunity to slip the tip of his thumb between them. By automatic reaction, you sucked it gently as your tongue skimmed against the pad of his thumb and as quick as it was there, it was gone with a pop of your lips. Any chance of you holding out was thrown right out the window when his lips part in a shit eating grin and you take in a hurried breath as you act on pure impulse and slam your lips against his, catching him off guard for a mere second before he gains composure again. His lips move against yours, matching your rhythm and your tongues are quickly passing over one another.

He grabs your hips and pulls you onto his lap so you’re straddling him, your lips never disconnecting. You don’t waste a moment as you begin to grind against his crotch furiously, letting your soft whimpers get lost in the kiss that had your chest burning and your panties soaked.

With one of your hands on the side of his head and the other threaded into his curls, your chests pushed together so he could feel your hardening nipples through the thin layers that separate you from him, you thought you couldn’t be closer to him. You were proven wrong when he grips your body closer to his, easily flipping you over so you were laid on the couch with him above you. The kiss broke for a moment so you could both take a breath, and you took the opportunity to wrap your legs around his hips, his crotch meeting your centre as his lips meet yours again.

Your hands gripped his shirt, pulling at it desperate to lose the fabric from his body. He noticed immediately and leant back onto his knees, pulling his shirt from his tatted body. He tries to lean back down but you place a hand on his chest to stop him, his eyebrows twitch in confusion. You take your time as you scan your eyes from his neck, down his chest and toned torso, his deep v lines (oh my god don’t get me started on the v lines) to where his waistband sits lowly. You try to squeeze your legs shut because of how his Godly body makes your pussy ache desperately for attention, only pulling him closer to you in the process and finding no relief. When you meet his eyes again, they’re darkened, so much so that his dilated pupils blend with his usually brown eyes and that same shit eating grin is plastered on his face.

Although Will could be shy at times that didn’t change the fact he was aware of how hot he was, how the sharpness of his jaw line, the movement of his Adams apple when he swallows, the toned exterior of his abs all make you weak in the knees and immediately desperate to feel every inch of him deep in your guts.

One of his hands move from your hips to cup your jaw, your gaze faltering under your eyelashes. Your breaths both pick up when your soft, pleading gaze meets his dark, lustful one. His thumb softly pets over your bottom lip, you wait impatiently for it to pass into your warm mouth. When he doesn’t give you what he knows you want, you wrap your lips of the pad of it and begin to suck down onto his thumb wishing it was his cock. Your eyes plead and he knows exactly what for.

His mouth is agape and his hair is slightly dishevelled from your tugs at it, all you can think about is the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat, his hands in your hair as he fucks your mouth mercilessly. ‘Just like that angel, suck it like you would my cock.’ you let out a whimper from his dirty words, words that make you lift your hips up to him in hopes he’ll listen and give you what you want. When instead he chuckles, you begin to whimper again but he cuts you off.

‘As pretty as those noises are, they aren’t gonna get you what you want.’ your eyes look up at him with pleading and desperation, your hips trying to shift closer to his. Just as you graze his crotch with your clothed centre, he pulls his thumb from your mouth and pushes your hips down to meet the couch. ‘Look at how desperate you are, I bet your panties are soaked aren’t they?’

‘Will-’ you begin but are cut off by your own gasp as he places the ball of his palm over your clit, pushing with barely any pressure but it’s enough to earn an ‘oh my’ from you. ‘I bet you could cum in seconds just like this, when I'm barely even touching you.’ he mumbles lowly, eyes locked between your legs as you begin to grind your hips into his touch.

Soft moans tumble from your lips, your head rocks back making your chest pop up slightly, welcoming Will in when he twists your nipples between his fingers over your shirt.

‘How about we see if you really are that desperate? Hmm?’ his tone is slightly cruel and completely unhinged, but you’re so focused on how you’re finally getting some relief after what feels like hours of yearning that you don’t even acknowledge his words.

His hand begins to grind against you in circles and your hips match his rhythm in all directions against his palm. Up, down, side to side, in circles and random jolts. You don’t care how desperate it is, the fact Will is letting you get off this soon is enough of a shock for you to grab it before it may be taken from you. You flick your eyes open to see Will readjusting his crotch just as your orgasm begins to threaten to take over. ‘Fuck, you don’t know what you’re doing to me, baby.’ His nearly breathless words are enough to knock you over the edge, but just as your eyes become cloudy and your clit is throbbing so hard it feels like your pussy is going to explode his touch is lost and you literally cry out in frustration.

‘Fuck Will! Why’d you-’

‘Shhhh, don’t worry angel imma give you what you want you’ve just gotta wait a minute, okay?’ his tone is soothing and genuine, but you’re raging from the lost orgasm and your pussy is throbbing harder than ever.

‘No Will it’s never just a minute, it’s hours and I'm fucking desperate. Please I need to cum so bad.’ you’re begging for anything and Will feels the tension in your body, so he leans down to kiss you in an effort to calm you down. At first, you’re stiff and pulsing with anger, but you can’t stay too angry at him when his lips are so soft against your mouth, and his warm tongue gets you thinking about its wetness soaking your clit in languid strokes. Your body softness and you ease into the kiss before pulling back to speak.

‘Please, Will, I need it so bad.’ you beg again, hoping your soft tone and puppy eyes will get you what you want.

‘I know and I'm gonna give you what you want, just not yet okay? When have I ever left you hanging?’ at first you pout at his words, but you know he’s right. Even on nights where he’s edged you for what feels like hours, he always gives you back every orgasm he denies and sometimes more if you ask him to.

He begins to kiss down your neck, his hands tracing the hem of your shirt. His lips are soft and gentle, his tongue kitten licking over the warm skin he litters with soft pecks. His hands find their way under your shirt passing over your tummy and to the curve of your breast.

‘Can I take this off?’ he questions while tugging the fabric of your shirt, you nod in response and lean up to help him and the cool air hits your chest immediately making your nipples become harder than they already were. You return to your prior positions, his kisses finding their way down your collar bones to your chest. His eyes are closed as he savours the feeling of your soft flesh against his lips which have begun to follow over the top of your breasts.

He begins to suck on your breast and create light hickies on the skin, you feel his hand move from your hip up to your other breast and his fingers begin to twist and pull your nipple. He begins gently tugging on the tight bud causing you to gasp from the sensation. Your nipples are sensitive from the cold air and his tugs become sharper, creating goosebumps over your skin. One of your hands thread into his hair to keep it from falling into his face and the other rests on his shoulder, tracing small circles over his tattoos.

Suddenly his mouth is on your nipple, sucking and flicking his warm tongue over the cold, tight bud and your back curves, making him suck harder. Your other nipple is beginning to burn blissfully from the tugs and pinches that never end, your thighs squeeze around his waist. He hums on your nipple, releasing it with a pop but not giving you a moment to breath when he moves over to your other nipple. His fingers are now tugging at the wet, puffy nipple that’s covered in his spit, he mimics the same pinching, tugging and swiping that once accompanied the nipple that his soft tongue is working on to ease its soreness.

His name falls angelically from your lips, you begin to think you could cum just from this. Almost as if he knew your thoughts, all of his touch retreats and you whimper as the cold air hits your bare skin. His lips continue down your stomach, kissing over your stretch marks with so much love and care. He stops when he reaches your waistband, and you cut him off as he begins to speak.

‘Yes Will,’ he smirks at your impatience, knowing just how desperate you are for his mouth to devour the pool that's been created between your legs. You lift your hips as his warm hands pull off your shorts, leaving your panties on.

You feel like crying through relief when instead of teasing you anymore, he finds his place lying on his front with his head between your legs and arms wrapped around your thighs.

He kisses up the inside of your thighs, getting further away from where you need him most. One of your hands rests on the back of his head, your other squeezes one of your breasts. Will doesn’t notice this until you tug on your nipple, causing you to gasp and his eyes shoot open.

‘There you go baby; you keep making yourself feel good, okay?’ his dark eyes burn into you, making your cheeks flush but you nod in response and continue to play with your swollen bud. ‘Fuck you’re so hot, y/n.’ now it’s his turn to blush just from the sight of your eyes rolling to the back of your head from an especially hard tug on your puffy nipple.

His fingers hook under your panties to pull them to the side and the anticipation is killing you as, finally, he licks a small stripe along each of your folds- still avoiding your swollen clit that is burning for attention.

As you open your mouth to begin to beg for him to give you what you want, a heavy heave leaves your chest as he sucks your clit into his mouth. Your back curves, head digging into the couch. Both of your hands hold his head in place as his mouth begins to work on the swollen, pulsing bud in small, soft sucks and kitten licks barely on the tip of it. Moans escape your mouth endlessly, his eyes open to see yours already on him.

Will is very aware of the fact that eye contact while he eats you out drives you insane, and he uses this to his own advantage. Just a slight darkening to his eyes can push you right over the edge and with how dark his eyes already are you don’t see how they could get darker. You close your eyes, not wanting the feeling to end just yet.

He begins to move his head to meet the movement from his tongue that have become longer and harder, this sends a spark down your legs making them jolt shut on his head. He pry's your legs open and releases your clit from his mouth so he can speak with his face still stuffed between your legs.

‘Wanna hear your beautiful moans, angel.’ his words are muffled but you try your best to keep your legs open as he begins to flatten his tongue against your clit, adding a new sensation into the mix.

You moan his name over and over again with a mix of curses and ‘oh mys’, his arms now having to hold your legs open because you couldn’t stop your body as your legs begin to kick out and attempt to close on his head.

His tongue slips down between your folds to meet your pussy with a soft stroke before slipping it into your hole, collecting your sopping wetness onto his tongue and carrying it up onto your clit.

‘Fuck baby, you’re so wet for me.’ his mouth doesn’t leave your skin, so his words vibrate against your clit, you gasp out at the feeling and your orgasm begins to build in your stomach.

‘Fuck, Will I’m so close. Please don’t stop’ your words get lost through the never-ending chant of his name and the gasps you can’t hold back when he slips his tongue into your pussy again and begins to fuck you with his tongue.

His thumb finds its place on your clit in small, tight circles as his tongue begins to fuck you faster, curving up and swirling around in your dripping pussy. His eyes open to meet yours, looking up at you with complete focus on making you feel as good as you possibly can and he flashes you a slightly playful, completely smug wink. The coil in your stomach broke and with a scream of his name you come all over his tongue, mouth and chin, your legs shaking and thrashing as your nails dig into his hair. Your head is thrown so far back it aches your neck, your eyes screwed shut as flashes of white and an array of colours fill your mind. Your moans are strained and sound almost pained, the way his tongue slips in and out of you makes you come so hard it feels like you’ll never come back down.

But alas, your vision unblurs and your legs flop onto the couch, your hands unclutching his hair. His thumb moves from your clit and his hand slips up to stroke over your tummy lovingly. His tongue finally slips out of your pussy after pulling you down from your orgasm and it begins to ever so slightly lick your clit.

Your chest heaves up and down when he finally pulls his mouth from your pussy, kissing up your body until you’re face to face while his hands work to pull your underwear down your legs. You finally open your eyes to meet his heavy gaze, his beautiful (and rather fucking magical) lips are pulled up in a smile that makes your stomach flip again.

‘I love you so much.’ you manage to force your words out between your heavy breaths, your lips connect for a small kiss. ‘I was beginning to think you may hate me after the look you gave me when I didn’t let you come.’ he laughs slightly as you begin to kiss down his neck, you feel his chest rise sharply when you suck on his pulse point. ‘I could never hate you.’ your words mumble against his neck.

‘I know. I’m not done making it up to you yet, though.’ his words are daring, if you were smart you’d take the opportunity to get out while you still can. You’re too fucked to consider that though, especially when Will begins to palm himself through his jeans that he must’ve unbuttoned without you realising. He grins down at you from his knees when your eyebrows raise at the change in tone.

‘On your knees.’ his sharp words go straight to your core and you know you’re making a mess of the couch; you immediately find your place on the floor where his head nodded toward. The hardwood is cold against your skin, making you hiss through your teeth. Will notices this and directs you up so he can place a pillow below your knees. You appreciate his kindness, especially knowing what’s coming next.

‘Listen closely babe,’ you nod attentively and he continues ‘tap my leg twice and I’ll slow down, three times for me to stop completely. Okay?’ his hand cups your face, softly stroking your cheek.

‘Twice to slow down and three times to stop.’ you nod along with your words; he smiles down at you while tucking your hair behind your ears. ‘I’m ready.’ you eagerly flutter your eyes at him, the anticipation eating away at you.

‘You’re such a good girl, you want me to fuck your mouth that much?’ his tone is slightly teasing, but you’re not embarrassed. You love having his cock in your mouth, you love it even more when he cums on your tongue and directs you to stick it out so he can see the mess he made before you swallow every drop down. Maybe if you’re good enough he’ll give you exactly what he knows you want.

You nod in response to his question, your hands pulling at his jeans. He pushes them away while talking ‘Keep them behind your back, only patient girls get what they want.’ you huff in response which makes him shake his head and smirk to himself. ‘You never have been very patient, have you? Maybe I should teach you a lesson, make you wait all night just to have my cock in your mouth. Maybe make you wait all week to have it stuffed in your pussy. Make you so cock starved that you never get greedy again, you just appreciate anything that I give you.’ The idea terrifies you, literally. The thought of having none of him for one night, let alone a week makes you want to cry. It also ignites a fire in you that you didn’t know existed.

‘Or maybe I’ll be nice, give you what you want.’ he pulls his jeans and boxers down, letting his cock fling up and nearly hit his stomach while he kicks his clothes to the side. Your mouth immediately begins to water from the sight of it, your thighs squeezing together as tight as possible. His cock is long and thick and heavy, so thick that the sight of it already makes your jaw ache. It used to scare you, how big it is, but now you love the fact that you’re left with a sore jaw for days after he’s fucked your mouth; a constant reminder of the feeling of his length slipping down your throat.

‘Please Will.’ your eyelashes flutter as you plead, desperate to have his beautifully shaped cock slip into your mouth and down your throat. You want to feel the veins that line his length slip against your tongue with every thrust he delivers deep in your mouth. ‘Such a good girl begging for my cock in your mouth.’ his words send a rush to your core as his hand cups your jaw, tapping your bottom lip and you quickly open your mouth.

Your jaw loosens as the swollen, leaking tip of his cock slips between your lips. You both hum in satisfaction, his salty precum lathers your tongue deliciously. Slowly, torturously so, he begins to slowly fill your mouth. The heaviness of his cock weighs down on your tongue, your lips stretching to fit around the thickness of it. Your hands are balled in fists behind your back, your thighs squeezed together as your knees dig into the pillow below them.

‘Good girl,’ he speaks in a low raspy tone as a deep grunt escapes his mouth. His hips shift and tense, sharpening his gorgeous v lines even more. You’re completely mesmerised, even through blurry and teary eyes as you feel the tip of him hit the back of your throat. ‘Now I need you to open up for me, angel.’ he taps your throat and your blink a tear away as your throat opens for him, giving him complete access to do as he pleases to you.

His chest is tight as he pulls out of your mouth till just the tip is left between your lips before slowly pushing back in, only this time he slips down into your throat. His hands hold onto the back of your head to steady himself as he begins to gently fuck your mouth. You're grateful that he eases you into it, but so eager for more. His strokes are so slow and soft, your stomach flips with butterflies.

After a few strokes in your warm mouth his breathing is heavy and his hands clutch onto your head.

‘God, you look so good with my cock in your mouth.’ you hum as your cheeks blush from his sweet words about such a dirty thing. ‘Blushing with my cock in your mouth? You really are an angel, aren’t you?’ he chuckles at the irony and the obscenity of his words causes your cheeks to flush harder, you manage to stop the laugh that was about to escape his chest again and it's replaced with an animalistic moan when you take initiative and push his cock further down your throat. It tickles deep in your throat, your eyes burn and you gag painfully, but it’s enough to make him begin his sharp thrusts down your throat.

You try your best to keep your hands behind your back, but you end up with them gripped onto your thighs to keep yourself stable as his thrusts become faster. His cock is heavy and warm down your throat; the stretch burns and aches, but blissfully so.

Your name falls from his lips through a mix of grunts, curses, moans and gasps as your tongue pushes up against his shaft and your cheeks hollow. You finally take a breath when he pulls out of your mouth completely, both of your chest rising rapidly.

‘Come on baby, gonna fill you up now. You've earnt it.’ he grips your hands and pulls you to your feet, pressing a kiss on your forehead before guiding you over to the couch. He directs you to sit on your knees facing the arm of the couch before finding his way behind you.

‘You did so well for me, angel.’ his hands begin to stroke over your back, round to cup your breasts and gently upward to ease over your neck. ‘You took me so well.’ His praises earn a soft whimper from you, his hands now pinching your nipples again in the same torturous way as earlier. You clutch the arm rest in front of you, making your back curve and your ass pop out. You gasp as you feel his hard shaft slide against the inside of your thighs, head tilting back as the thought of having him stretching you out sends a hotness across your body.

His hands move back around to stroke up and down the length of your back lovingly, even massaging your shoulders for a moment or two. You feel his hand meet the centre of your back applying enough pressure to guide you down, so you are now leaning with your fore arms holding you up and your ass is perched up- giving Will a delicious view.

‘Fuck you’re so gorgeous.’ his words are accentuated as his fingertips graze up your curved back gently, passing over all your dips and curves. Rose tinted stretch marks litter your skin and as his slightly coarse fingertips pass over them you let out a deep breath that you’d held in, curving your back and sticking your ass out even more in the process. This slight action earns you a satisfied groan from Will and you feel his length slip between your folds teasingly, as you try to push onto the feeling his length is gone and you feel it tap against the inside of your thigh.

As his fingertips continue their passing over your flesh, back and forth over the middle of your back, dipping down onto your hips where your curves accentuate, he hums to himself while his fingers spread over the soft flesh and squeeze slightly. Your head rocks down, a warm breath slipping past your lips, the soft squeeze on your flesh is filled with so much love and affection. You can feel the passion pass from his fingertips into your body- sending another warm, wet rush to your core.

Every touch from Will causes a shudder in your stomach that sends your head nearly spinning, your pussy dripping with a mix of your wetness and his saliva. Just his fingers gently digging into your hip is making you desperate for more of him.

All of him.

‘Please, Will.’ slips past your lips in a near whisper, a light shudder spreads over your body as your core clenches on nothing again. You feel the loss of one of his hands, only for it to return to your flesh in a sharp, quick spank on your cheek. You gasp slightly, letting out a breathy moan as his hand grips the now reddened flesh, soothing the skin with his gentle caress.

‘You like that, Angel?’

His voice is quieter than usual as if he was lost in the sight of you, lust spewing from his raspy tone. You hum in response but gasp again when his hand returns in a harsher spank to the same spot that only just began to cool after the last hit. ‘You know you need to use your words, angel. Try again.’

‘Yes Will, I like it.’ Your chest is heavy, you feel your wetness slick against your inner thighs, especially after the last spank.

‘Hmm, good girl.’ He mumbles, almost to himself as he works his thumb over the sore flesh of your cheek, admiring his work.

Finally, you feel his tip slip through your folds, collecting your wetness onto his shaft and swirling his hot tip around your clit. You hold your breath tight in your chest as his tip finds your aching pussy gently, teasing your entrance cruelly.

Just when you thought he’d fill you up, another spank arrives harshly against your flesh. This time you can’t hold back the deep, guttural moan that escapes you.

You gasp out in a mix of shock and pleasure when his tip pushes into you and he eagerly fills you up, giving you no time to prepare for the stretch. It burns you deep, aching when his tip finds the deepest spot in you. ‘God, Will. Fuck, it’s so tight.’ You cry out as your eyes fill with tears from the pressure of the stretch.

‘So fucking perfect.’ you mumble, mostly to yourself as he adjusts his position so you feel his thighs against your own. ‘Jesus christ,’ he grunts breathlessly as you try to squeeze around him but fail from how much he’s already stretching you out.

The first stroke is painful, his hips slowly drawing back only halfway before filling you up again just as slowly, and you feel like you could cum already from how blissful it is. Both of your moans intertwine as he repeats the action, this time pushing into you harder. Your hands grip the couch cushion so hard your knuckles ache, his hands still digging into the flesh of your hips.

He circles his hips, the swollen tip of his cock pushing against you deeply while one of his hands retreats from your hip to slide up into your hair roughly. You feel him adjust his position again and you grip the cushion as hard as you can, preparing for what comes next.

‘Please Will, I want it. I need it.’ Your words are faint; he’d have to listen closely to hear them. Luckily for you, there’s not a day that goes by where Will never fails to listen to you as attentively as possible.

‘Angel always gets what she wants, doesn’t she?’

With one last soft stroke, his hand grips your hair roughly, his fingernails nearly piercing your skin and his cock retreats almost fully before slamming back into you. Your gasps get caught in your throat as he creates a rapid, rough pace that makes your ass slap against his v lines sharply. The sting of his cock as he pulls out, the pressure as he rips back into you- his hand gripping the roots of your hair so tight it feels as if your hair might rip out, his nails digging into your hip as his grip bruises your flesh.

All of it sends your head spinning, eyes pinched shut as his thrusts become harsher with every one that passes by, his deep groans get caught between your own gasps for air and the lewd noises of your flesh slapping together.

You can’t think of anything else as the feeling of his cock ripping into you overwhelms all your senses, your mind zoned in on how his length drags so perfectly against the deepest parts of you. You feel it in your gut when his hips meet your ass, hitting the reddened flesh creating obscene noises that make your pussy gush around him.

‘Fuck you’re taking me so well, angel- so fucking well.’ his words blur together with the sensation that builds throughout your whole body as you mutter out incoherent words and pornographic noises that you have no control over.

The earth-shattering pleasure Will is giving you makes your body burn all over, your thighs shake every time his tip meets a space deeper than your g spot, past your cervix into what feels like is in your guts.

‘Imma make you cum over and over again, baby, give my girl what she deserves. How's that sound to you?’ you moan in response, nodding your head as best as you can. He pulls at your hair harshly making your head tilt upwards.

‘I can’t give you what you want if you don’t use your words, angel. You should know this by now.’ his tone is arrogant and it makes you whimper as he leans over your body to grab your arms from under your head. He drags them behind you, pinning them against your back with the hand that was just in your hair, his other hand leaving your hip to grip the sofa to steady himself.

His thrusts transition from fast and long to short and sharp, drilling into the part of you that he knows you love the most. Your thighs tremor, it’s becoming harder to hold yourself up from how the aching in your pussy spreads over your whole body, leaving it weak. A thin layer of sweat coats both your bodies, beads slipping down the back of your thighs from where your bodies connect.

You feel your orgasm begin to approach, crying out from the sensation that tightens in your stomach.

‘Let it happen, baby. I've got you.’ Will’s words almost get lost in the feeling of your stomach bursting, but the reassurance lets you slip over the edge completely. You gasp as your head spins and your thighs shake ruthlessly as they try to hold you up through the intensity. Your ears ring, your vision blurs, your moans come to a momentary halt before a cross between a wail and cry breaks in your throat. Will fucks you through the whole thing, his grip on your wrists that he pins against your back grounding you back to the moment as you come down from your high.

You're left a breathless, teary mess as he pulls out slowly to ease any discomfort.

Your minds still so blurry that you don’t realise Will has laid you onto your back until a couple minutes later, which is also when you finally take a deep breath that cleanses your lungs from the restriction your gasping created.

When you open your eyes, Will is kissing down your neck, face flush and a bead of sweat is rolling down his forehead.

‘You okay my love?’ his words are tender, a contradictory from the orgasm that just crashed down on you. You mumble a reply, smiling to him as a gentle wave of joy rushes over you. ‘You okay to keep going?’ he asks, you mumble another yes as you connect your lips with his.

The kiss is sweet and as tender as his concern, but when you slip your hand down to wrap around his pulsing cock he bites down onto your bottom lip with a groan. You feel your release slick around his cock, collecting it on the pads of your fingertips with a mix of his own juices, breaking the kiss to slip your fingers into your mouth while still holding eye contact with Will.

His eyes are wide, lips swollen and parted in shock at your dirty action. You suck your fingers clean of both of your juices before connecting your lips again, Will’s tongue pressing against your own to get a taste of your sweetness. Your hand returns to stroke his cock painfully slow, flicking your thumb over the tip that furiously leaks his juices.

‘You sure you can handle it again, babe?’ his tone is slightly smug but filled with so much sincerity, not wanting to push you past your limits. ‘Wanna feel you in me again, Will. I miss it.’ your words merge into the kiss and you feel his fingers trace gently over your swollen clit. You part from his lips to release a soft, airy moan when he circles the bud in tightly and his forehead meets yours.

‘You sound so beautiful, y/n. So fucking beautiful.’ your eyes flutter shut when his fingers push harder, the same airy moans slipping past your lips softly and his compliment sends your cheeks pink. He kisses along your exposed jawline, sucking gently on the skin.

‘Is it all for me, baby?’ his words vibrate against your throat, his fingers exploring down through your folds to collect your wetness and swipe it over your pulsing clit again. You feel another orgasm approaching, the floodgates already open from your last orgasm, and you struggle to form a reply from the pressure that’s building.

‘Fu- yes, Will- it's- ah- it's all for you.’ you force the words out between moans, your eyes fluttering open to meet his that swallow you completely in admiration. He kisses down your chest and sucks your nipple into his mouth, your hand finds its way into his hair as to ground yourself in the feeling that’s threatening to push you over the edge again.

He hums against your nipple causing you to gasp, his teeth grazing the bud deliciously as you finally muster up the strength to talk.

‘I’m gonna cum, fuck I'm gonna cum.’ your words are rushed as you grip his hair, pulling his mouth harder against your nipple as your orgasm washes over you, your head rocking back into the pillow beneath you. Your back arches up, pushing your nipple against his teeth daringly and he bites down causing another shudder to travel down your legs.

This orgasm isn’t as intense as your last but it’s just as beautiful, hitting you in multiple waves, each earning a louder gasp and a toothy smile to appear on your face. Your eyes are rolled into the back of your head, your legs tremoring on either side of his hips as you begin to come down with a heavy gasp and a whimper that pulls Will’s lips away from you with a smile.

It dawns on you that he hasn’t came yet and you begin to feel guilty, not being able to hide the worry from your face.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asks concerned and you ease his worry with a smile and shake of your head, still catching your breath as your play with his curls that hang messily from his head. ‘You haven’t came yet, babe.’ you try to hide your guilt but he catches on immediately.

‘I’m waiting, baby, wanna give you as much as possible before I come. Don’t worry about it my love.’ you may have over thought it any other day, but his genuine smile and tone makes you nod and let go of that stress.

His lips are on yours again before they trail across your jaw, under your ear to suck the sensitive skin between his lips. His tongue laps over the skin, his teeth grazing so gently it sends a shudder up your spine. He moves across to find your pulse point, humming against the skin to send a wave of vibration through your body. He mimics the same sucking as before, only this time his teeth dig into your skin to send your head rocking back into the couch.

All your senses are heightened. Suddenly you can smell traces of weed in the air from earlier, coconut in his locks and his musky cologne along his collar bones. Goosebumps cover your arms, your nipples peaking and poking into his warm chest. The TV glows, a low lamp keeping the rest of the room lit. A mix of your and his juices tingle on your tongue, your thighs clench at the taste; a reminder of the orgasms that leave your body flushed and aching perfectly.

You don't realise one of his hands had moved until you feel a finger slip into your cunt, a pool of warmth coating his finger and palm slick. Your breaths flow mindlessly through your soft, plump lips when he curves his finger into your g spot, your chest becomes tight from the repetitive action.

His finger leaves you, his mouth disconnects from your neck and he positions himself between your legs. He holds his soaked palm up between you both, grinning proudly to himself.

‘Making such a beautiful mess, angel.’ his raspy tone alone makes you desperate, burning with anticipation when you feel is swollen tip poking at your entrance teasingly, and when he slips his finger into his mouth, your juices pushing up to his knuckles in a ring before collecting on his lips you genuinely think you’re going to hyperventilate from the sight alone.

He finger slips from his mouth and before you can react his lips are pushed against yours, lathering them in your own juices. He pulls back, your tongue pokes out to collect the mess from your lips but his hand quickly catches you before you can, his fingers on either side of your face pushing your lips open and out in a pouting motion. His tongue licks your lips clean of your juices, not letting one drop go to waste.

Your chest is so tight it aches your ribs, you don’t think you’ll ever let your breath go until you feel his tip slowly slip into you. Will groans and even though you’re dripping wet, it still stings slightly from the stretch; but you wouldn’t have it any other way, the feeling of just the tip of him alone makes you suck another long breath in.

His hips continue forward, his cock slipping halfway in all at once making Will let out another deep groan and you wince. Not only is his size already a stretch, but you’re also still sore from being filled by him and fucked into the couch.

‘I know it’s so much angel,’ his hand rests on your throat without applying any pressure yet, your eyes flutter open to meet his. You must force your eyes to stay open, you’d be stupid not to watch how his face contorts as his tip finally rests against the deepest part of you. His girth stretches and fills you up sublimely, you moan deeply at the feeling that you can never get enough of.

Before moving his hips, he hooks an arm under your leg closest to the back of the couch and directs it to hang over the top of the couch. This sends your hips upwards, giving him perfect access to fill your guts.

‘Keep your leg up here for me, okay?’ you nod at his request, still so zoned in on how he fills you up. His body is inches away from yours again, his cock slipping against your sweet spot just from his readjusting.

He plants a small kiss on your forehead before pulling his hips away slowly, your chest rises with his stroke when he guides himself back into you. Both of you moan out together, your hand latching onto the back of his neck. Curses slip from both of you as he creates a slow, deep pace; drawing his hips back almost completely before pushing back into you at an agonising speed. When he fucks you like this, slow and deep, you can feel the veins on his cock as he pulls out, the slit on his tip grazing your upper wall as he pushes back into you. Both of you are already a panting mess, his hand beginning to add the slightest bit of pressure on your neck that makes your mind soft and cloudy.

‘Fuck, you’re taking me so well, y/n.’ his words nearly get caught in his chest when you squeeze around him, his tip edging against your cervix gorgeously. ‘Shit baby, you wrap around my cock perfectly. It's like your pussy was made for me.’ Your cheeks flush at his words, also because he adds more restriction to your throat, the tips of his fingers digging into the skin softly.

His thrusts start to become harder, dragging along your tight walls in languid strokes that send your head tilting back into the pillow beneath you and your other leg to hike up at the side of his hip.

He leans up onto his knees, pushing your leg that is folded up against your side out and gripping your knee that rests on the top of the couch, watching his cock as it stretches your cunt that squeezes its thickness every time he hits your sweet spot.

‘Jesus- fuck-’ he can’t form a coherent sentence, his eyes still shamelessly gawking at the sight of him fucking you as he mumbles something to himself that you can’t make out. His hand leaves your knee and begins to stroke over your folds, staring intently as his fingers slip across your swollen clit and his fingertips graze over your folds intently. Your breathing is becoming heavy, feeling another orgasm approaching you at a rapid rate.

Will notices this and pushes against your clit, only flicking his eyes up from between your legs for a moment to glance at your face as a you whimper; the pleasure nearly becoming too much.

He knows that if you don’t cum soon, you’ll become a whimpering, crying mess and that thought makes his cock twitch in you. His finger strums your clit slowly before switching up completely, flicking over the pulsing bud with his thumb frantically making you shout his name in shock. Your orgasm begins to shake your legs and just like that his thumb is gone and you cry out, sounding pained and awfully hot; Will lets out an animalistic moan as he leans down and uses his arms to cage you in and keep you in place.

If he didn’t do that you’d be thrashing around, which your body still tries to do when he begins to fuck your harder, picking his pace up ever so slightly but it’s enough to make you cry out again.

‘Take it, angel,’ his words drill into your ears, his hips rocking into you harder with every word ‘take it like the good girl you are.’ Your moans become high pitched and strained, having no control of the curses and chants of his name that leave your chapped lips. You gave up trying to keep your eyes open, letting them pinch shut as the pleasure sends your mind spinning.

‘Eyes open.’ he demands, to which you quickly comply and open them as much as you can. You take in the sight of him; his dishevelled hair that brushes against your forehead with his thrusts, his agape mouth, those fucking lips that can make you crumble in moments. You can’t stop yourself when your eyes find his defined jawline, leaning up to peck it before grazing your teeth across it, earning you a low groan from Will. His dark, deep eyes bore into you and you squeeze tightly on his cock again, this time mainly so you can see how his eyes roll into the back of his head.

When his eyes open again, your hand finds its way onto his back, your nails digging into his skin and dragging across his flesh. Just as you do this, you squeeze on his cock again, wanting to push him to the edge; hoping you’ll get a raise out of him. His eyes roll to the back of his head again, he groans deeply- sounding slightly pissed off.

‘I know what you’re doing, y/n.’ his tone is sharp, making your heart jump for a moment and your pussy drip along his cock. His eyes pierce into yours, you bite your lip nervously. ‘If you want me to fuck you, you should’ve just asked instead of being a slut about it.’ His words make you smirk through excitement, he chuckles to himself and shakes his head while speaking.

‘You really are a dirty slut, aren’t you?’ his words send another wave of pleasure through you and before you can stop it you let out an ear-splitting pornographic moan, maybe you should be ashamed of how this turns you on- but you couldn’t care less about shame when his cock hits you in the place that makes you giddy with satisfaction.

‘Eyes open, y/n’ his words are sharp, scolding you with a light spank to your clit making your eyes shoot open and the same shameless moan erupts from you- this time somehow louder. Your legs begin to tremor slightly, this warning both of you that you’re going to cum soon.

‘You just want to be treated like the dirty girl you are, don’t you?’ his words make your stomach twist, his hips now beginning to pick up their speed- giving you exactly what you need to take you over the edge again. ‘Say it.’ his demand makes your eyebrows twist in shock, feeling your cheeks flush in embarrassment.

‘Come on baby, if you can say it, I’ll give you exactly what you want- what you need.’ he teases you, knowing that you’ll do anything to cum all over his cock will he fills you up and fucks your juices together.

‘I- fuck, Will!’ you begin but cut yourself off when his speed picks up rapidly, still drilling into you at a torturously hard rate. ‘I just-’ your words are cut off again, this time by a whimper you can’t stop. Your tits bounce against Will’s chest every time he fills you up to the brim, it’s becoming a ridiculously hard task to keep your eyes open too. His moans make you clench on him over and over again, desperate for him to take you past the edge.

‘If you wanna cum I’m gonna need to hear the words come from your mouth, angel, so get to talking.’ he torments, his hips drilling into you. Just when you think he couldn’t get any obscener, he leans back to spit onto your tits, his hips never stopping their beautiful torture; he’s doing this not only because it drives him crazy, but because it’s always the last straw before your pussy explodes around his cock.

You know if you don’t get the words out ASAP he’ll deny you of your orgasm again and you wouldn’t be able to take it, so you hurry and manage to force the words out.

‘I just wanna be treated like the dirty slut I am! Will- please- I can’t-’ a tear rolls down your face, the pleasure overwhelming you. His fingers find your clit in slow, smooth strokes in contrast to his cock and finally he lets you crash over the edge.

‘There we go angel, let it all out. Cum all over my cock, doll.’ is the last thing you hear, his pleased grin being the last thing you see before ringing fills your ears, your eyes pierce shut and your head digs into the pillow below you. Your legs shake rapidly, your pussy convulsing on Will’s cock as you squirt on him, not hearing the obscene strangled moans that never stop leaving you or the noises of your juices that fill the room as he fucks you through the whole thing.

Will can’t hold back anymore and with a deep, guttural moan he slams his hips into you, his forehead resting against your own as his orgasm crashes through him in reckless, violent waves- just as yours did to you. Your pussy pulses on his cock, milking every drop of cum from him as you’re still encapsulated by your orgasm, practically screaming through the whole thing.

You both come down, thrown from the heights of your orgasms back to reality. Your breathing is rapid, trying to catch up with the lost breaths due to how much you were moaning, you’re unable to force your eyes open just yet. Will is in the same state as you, wrapped up in the blissful after math of such an intense orgasm.

You stay with his cock in you for a minute or two, coming back to your mind and opening your eyes tiredly. Will lifts his head from your neck to meet your loving gaze, both of you staring in complete awe and love for each other.

Slowly you both begin to untangle your limbs, him pulling out from you gently. Still lying on your back, so fucked out you don’t think you’ll be able to move for another hour, he kneels between your legs and watches as his cum drips out of your puffy pussy. He collects the fallen juices and gently, as to not hurt your sore entrance, fingers it back into your pussy; not letting a drop escape you.

Finally, you catch your breath, pulling Will down into a soft, slow kiss.

After a while of cuddling on the couch, talking about the events that just took place, Will convinces you to make your way upstairs so you can share a bath. When he helps you up to your feet, you gasp at the puddle of your juices that has sunk into the couch, Will widening his eyes with a devilish glint and proud grin.

‘Look at all the mess we made.’

————————————-

Thanks for reading💋💋💋

#will ramos #Lorna shore #William Ramos #will ramos fic #lorna shore fic #metal #will ramos smut

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campgender · 6 months

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i was scrolling your “life is in your home too” tag, which I love btw, and saw a post about how you learned to be a good dom from experienced expert doms by reading how they dom and some of their best scenes, do you think you could point me in the direction of some resources for me to study that too? thanks in advance, if not, thanks anyway!

(post referenced is here - link 1)

first of all tysm for this ask (+ your incredibly kind follow-up), it was a delight to receive + i’ve been wanting an excuse to talk about a lot of this for a while so i very much appreciate the interest!

as always please keep in mind that i am Just Some Fem, nothing is universal including when it comes to D/s & i can only speak to what works for me. i try to focus on starting points rather than specifics but ultimately my advice will always be limited by what i needed to hear & wasn’t told, which may not be what’s helpful for a different person. with that being said, here’s some suggestions!

i’ve posted a previous reading list (link 2) with relevant recs; particularly the practicality + sex writing sections have the kind of thing you’re looking for. specifically, The New Topping Book (2003) is a solid starting point; i definitely have my issues with it (haven’t read it recently enough to recall many specifics but i have the sense of general pervasive racism & ableism) but it did a good job at making me think & i appreciate the supportive tone they were going for

another book added to my tbr since then is Coming to Power (link 3), released by SAMOIS in 1983

other authors whose sex writing has been influential in my life: Sandra Cisneros, Natalie Diaz, Joan Nestle, Judy Grahn

the fic At The End of His Rope by Letterblade (link 4) is genuinely some of my favorite sex writing of all time & accomplishes the incredibly impressive feat of representing a broad array of dom styles & changes over time in the same piece

my “impurity culture” tag (link 5) houses the building blocks of my sexual ethic

i’ve found many of those foundations by poking around the incredible bodies of work original & archived @newsmutproject @woman-loving @gatheringbones

for me, studying sex is the same as studying poetry – reading for craft is a different process than for pleasure (not that there isn’t a great deal of pleasure to be found in such practice, especially for sadists – perhaps that’s why as a child i never resonated with Billy Collins’ “Introduction to Poetry,” like i love tying poems to chairs & beating them idk what to tell you). so, keeping in mind that these are suggestions not requirements, here’s how i read for + work on craft:

there is no such thing as too much journaling. this can take whatever form you prefer – voice memo, discord message to yourself, the noble notes app, your own personal sexy red string corkboard, a vast & stunning array of other approaches i can’t even begin to imagine. i personally have an elaborate web of spreadsheets & google docs lmao. what matters is developing a collection of ideas you want to play with + a practice of continually reflecting on past experiences.

pay attention to structure, not just content. find a scene you think is disjointed and pick at the seams, brainstorm better transitions. then find a scene that flows so smoothly it carries you with it and figure out what makes it work.

rewrite a scene you’re drawn to or affected by to suit your own preferences. i first did this when i couldn’t shake “Interlude 3” (link 6) from my head after reading The New Topping Book; you can read my variation on the theme here (link 7) if you’re interested.

write or think through a scene fantasy you have from negotiation to aftercare. obviously it’s very difficult if not impossible to fully script a scene in advance; the purpose isn’t planning something you’ll later do but rather getting used to coming up with ideas to get from one disparate moment / act to the next.

revisit a scene you’ve read, written, thought about, etc and list the physical & mental acts that are required / expected of the sub (eg, kneeling for 10 minutes; making eye contact; counting to 30, etc). then rework the scene for a sub who has the same interests & goals who cannot do 20% (or 50%, or any) of these acts.

revisit a previous scene and list the places where you think a sub might safeword & why. then rework it with the sub safewording somewhere that isn’t any of these places.

i also recommend keeping in mind that like… for me, reading about ethical sex can often be a very distressing process for the same reason that it’s liberating: because it proves that things i’ve experienced are not the way sex has to be. i’ll tell this story in its fullness one day but the first time i read S/HE by Minnie Bruce Pratt i literally had a flashback to events i’d repressed for years, it was devastating, i’m so grateful for it. hell, in the process of compiling resources for this post i cried twice editing this quote (link 8) because between reading that book the first time & now someone did “respond with scorn or ridicule” when i safeworded. so i would really encourage folks to approach this kind of work with as much grace & comfort for yourself as you can muster or borrow – if it’s really fucking hard, you’re not alone in that, & it’s okay to take your time + pace yourself + seek support.

your + others’ interest is definitely motivating me to actually write posts i’ve been tossing around for months so thank you again & feel free to keep an eye out for more shut-in sex tips in my new “tomorrow sexting will be good again” tag. would love to hear your thoughts on any of this post / these or other books / whatever really lol. wishing you all the best & i hope today is kind to you! 💓

#asks #D/s #reading lists #mac.txt #tomorrow sexting will be good again

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nicromancytarot · 5 months

Text

NICROMANCY GETS SCAMMED - EPISODE 2

All I do on this app is complain.

Hello and welcome to part 2 of me possibly being scammed?? (I feel like this is deserved now, am I just really unlucky or something?)

16th of March @samisinsomniac messaged me for an exchange, I gave them their reading the next day 500 words as I mentioned I preferred, they responded with my reading the next day too, only with around 200 words, but I was thankful nonetheless!

I gave them a thank you, and some feedback on the reading, they also gave me a little bit of feedback for the one I gave to them.

On the 30th of March they messaged me again for some clarity on a situation through another exchange.

I got to their’s as soon as I could (which was immediately since I wasn’t busy that day), they were busy, but that’s ok, they said they would give mine to me by 10pm Indian standard time. India is 5 hours ahead of me, as I am set in the UK.

I proceeded to give their reading to them, 500 words as before, not only did I not receive any thank you, I also didn’t receive feedback. If you’re a Tarot reader, you will understand how crucial feedback is for us to better our talent and improve our work, and they know this very well, as they even mentioned to me during our first exchange for me to let them know how it resonates, and leave some feedback in their ask box.

To make matters worse, they did not give me my reading by 10pm IST. (It’s getting realll)

Here is their response to my reading, the blocked off part is me explaining the person’s feelings for them, I don’t want to put anyone’s personal information on blast, which is why that is covered.

They then said that they would send the reading to me that evening.

It was not delivered by that time either. DUH DUH DUH

I messaged them a tad worried, perhaps they’d been hit by a car and I was just being mad for no reason. They let me know that they had a medical issue, which made me feel evil for pacing my room in anticipation (I didn’t actually do that, only inside my mind palace)

Finally, I received my reading! It was… 200 words, but alas! At least I got it and everyone is alive.

Now the average person would take this as a lesson not to exchange again, just in case they get caught up with another medical issue you know, or maybe the reading is short. (Which ever one is worse. IM KIDDING)

They had a birthday! Turned 18, that’s great, I’m also 18, they messaged me about it, then asked me if I did 18+ readings.

Sometimes I lack context clues, but personally I feel like my confusion here is pretty valid. Plus! Their profile said they don’t do 18+, I’m very valid in my confusion.

Anyways! They ask for my question, I give it, then they give me theirs, they ask if it’s ok, I let them know it is.

But I was hungry and needed to shower, so I also let them know that.

They were doing my reading at 7:26pm, I got out my shower at 10:48pm…. somethings not adding up! So I sent a little message, letting them know about my recent scam, and how I did not want to get scammed again so they would have to send it first.

However, they have not responded, it’s been 3 days, since they apparently started my reading? Now I’m no Tarot Goddess, but I’m pretty sure you would be done with a reading by day 3.

Listen, I don’t wanna fight or argue, I’m just a little funny guy who does Tarot, no fight in me, you message me in caps and I think I’ll cry.

This is not to cause an argument, or to throw hands at anybody, I just don’t like being lied to or taking advantage of as a smaller Tarot reader.

It’s only been 3 days, I was planning on waiting longer to post this, however I feel like now is fine as I’ve clearly been lied to about when they started their reading, which I’m not sure if it was to receive theirs early from me, I got no clue dude, what I do know is I am really tired of people doing this to me, please stop, before I actually cast a spell for you to clip into the back rooms.

Scammers: 2 Nicromancy: 0

Please stop scamming me, you’re embarrassing me in front of my spirit guides. 😔

#tarot #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #free tarot #tarot witch #tarot reading #tarot cards #pick a card #pick a pile

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universitypenguin · 11 months

Note

Hello Alice! Lloyd and princess have been living in my head rent free lately 😍 and it’s got me thinking (please no pressure ever to answer any of my silly little asks!) what do you think princess would do/how would she feel after all this time apart and after everything that’s been going on if she thought Lloyd had sleep with someone else during this time apart?

Thank you for sharing your stories with us! I’m so excited for what’s next to come with these two❤️

Author’s Note: @drabblewithfrannybarnes 🥰

Thank you so much for this lovely ask! I wish I was a faster writer, but alas… that will never be my lot in life. 😭 Instead of doing Kinktober, I’ve been working on improving my short story skills this month, which led to me revising this several times. And by revising I actually mean starting from scratch three times in a row.

I’d challenged myself to keep trying until I had gotten it just right, so it was very satisfying to look at this draft and realize I was finally happy with it. Thank you so much for motivating me to write this, please enjoy! 💙🩵🤍

If He Wanted To, He Would…

“Hey Princess? Can you fix my phone?”

You were stirring honey into your tea, watching the clump slowly dissolve, when Lloyd made his request. He stood by the door wearing athletic shorts and a blue quarter zip, frowning at his phone.

“I thought you were going on a run.”

Lloyd grunted, tapping the screen. The line between his eyebrows appeared.

If this phone issue prevented him from going on his run you were going to lose your mind. Thanks to the stalker situation, your alone time was extremely limited. Only when Lloyd jogged the trail encircling the cabin were you allowed the luxury of complete solitude. He jogged three times a week and each excursion guaranteed you at least an hour of alone time. Without these breaks you’d go insane.

“Why don’t you take my phone instead?”

“My email isn’t synching. I’m trying to make sure the email I sent to Bishop went through.”

“I’ll fix it. Here, you can use my phone.”

Lloyd scowled at the offending device. “I didn’t even mess with it this time. Why is it doing this?”

You held out your phone. “Just take mine.”

“Do you think it’s the wifi?” Lloyd asked.

“You can borrow my AirPods, too,” you said.

“I never run with headphones in and neither should you.”

“That’s something you will never, ever, have to worry about.”

Lloyd smirked as he exchanged phones with you. “Right, I forgot who I was talking to. Good luck with that thing, I’ll see you in an hour or so.”

When he was gone you collapsed on the couch. Finally, the sanctity of solitude. You basked in the silence for a minute before turning your attention to repairing his phone. There were no issues in the app settings or the phone settings, so you tried restarting it. After clearing the cached data, you removed his account and added it again, without success. Then you updated the app and, much to your relief, the email finally synched.

You’d just finished the installation and locked his phone when it buzzed. A text appeared on his lock screen, visible in the preview window.

Don’t worry about Michael. He isn’t the jealous type.

You stared at the message, baffled, like a puppy encountering its reflection for the first time, perplexed by the inexplicable sight. Who was Michael? Perhaps some context would help. You opened the message app and scrolled back through his previous messages with the sender, April Ward.

Their first message was dated about two weeks ago, right after Lloyd had returned from Idaho.

Seeing you on Friday… I love you… don’t worry about Michael… he isn’t the jealous type…

April Ward was his ex-girlfriend. What had happened between them in Idaho?

You hadn’t questioned the limited contact you’d had with him at the time, but now it felt like a huge red flag. Your stomach twisted into knots.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Twenty-five minutes had passed. Lloyd would be home soon and you still didn’t know what you were going to say. Your thoughts were chaotic. You felt naive, foolish, and gullible.

You had believed he was grieving and settling his father’s affairs. You had assumed he was too busy to call you or that his phone was out of service range. You were such a sucker. Hurt and anger vied for dominance inside of you, but neither gained enough ground to claim victory. The emotions were deadlocked and trapped in the middle of them, all you felt was numb.

Distantly, you recognized that you were in shock. Of course you were in shock. It was a shocking development. This wasn’t the Lloyd you knew. He’d never let you down before. In spite of his rough edges, he was always honest with you, even when it came to difficult topics; especially when it came to difficult topics.

How had he become this person, someone capable of such an ugly betrayal? When had your best friend turned into your enemy?

You didn’t hear the creak of the door’s hinges, but at Lloyd’s voice, your head snapped up. Your lip curled into a snarl.

Lloyd stopped short. “Princess? What’s wrong?”

“Who’s April Ward?”

His nostrils flared as he inhaled through his nose.

“She’s a veterinarian who treated a sick calf for me a few weeks ago. Why?”

“Liar. April is your ex, I read your texts.”

“Princess, it’s not what you think-”

You hissed. “Stop! Stop lying to me! You cheated, didn’t you?! Just admit it!”

“I’m not lying!”

Without thinking, you flung the phone at him. Lloyd ducked and it hit the wall, then clattered to the floor.

“Calm down!” Lloyd barked.

“No! Tell me what happened!”

“It wasn’t on purpose-”

“You slept with her by accident?! Come on!”

“I didn’t cheat, Princess! Listen to me! I didn’t intend to see April. There was a sick calf, so I called the vet, who turned out to be my highschool girlfriend.”

“And then you slept with her.”

Lloyd snarled. “I didn’t sleep with her.”

“I don’t believe you!”

“I’m telling you the truth!”

Your chin lifted. “She cares about you.”

“We dated in highschool, okay? That’s all. For the record, the last time I slept with her, you weren’t even alive!”

“Are you insulting my age, or yours?”

Lloyd threw his hands up. “Neither. Forget I said that. Here’s what happened on Friday: I called for a vet and April showed up. She treated the calf, we had a drink in the kitchen and talked for a few hours. When we finished talking she went home.”

“What are you leaving out of this story?”

“Nothing!”

“Did you have sex in the kitchen?”

“There was no sexual contact, there was barely even physical contact!”

You zeroed in on his last point. “Ha! So you did something with her, didn’t you?!”

“There was a kitchen table between us for 90% of the evening. She reached across it and touched my hand while we were talking. Later, I hugged her goodbye. That was the extent of our physical contact.”

His delivery was fluid. The words were crisp and his tone of voice was even. That should have comforted you. Instead, it made you even more suspicious.

“Princess, I can only tell you this in so many ways: nothing happened. Believing it is up to you.”

“If nothing happened, then why didn’t you tell me that you’d seen her?”

“I don’t like talking about that period of my life… and… maybe because I didn’t know how to approach the subject.”

You stared at Lloyd, torn between doubt and trust.

He sighed. “I know it looks bad. If our roles were reversed, I’d react the same way, but I swear it was nothing more than old friends catching up.”

“Fine. I believe you.”

He looked relieved for a split second before you continued.

“But keeping this from me was a betrayal in itself.”

“I’m sorry,” Lloyd said.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You were still curled up in the rocking chair on the porch when dusk faded into night. As a concession to the dropping temperature, you’d draped a blanket around your shoulders. The nights were getting colder as autumn approached.

If he wanted to, he would. If he wanted to, he could.

You’d always considered Lloyd to be honest, at least with you, before today. Now you wondered about the veracity of that assumption. As you examined your reasoning, the uncomfortable truth crystallized. Lloyd was capable of cheating on you. He was certainly sneaky enough. Keeping secrets and guarding his emotions were Lloyd’s greatest strengths. He was a master in the art of lying. Half-truths, omissions, fabrications, he could do it all and conventional ethics didn’t mean much to him. He lied as easily as other people breathed - those were the cold, hard facts.

Reality slapped you in the face, unraveling the sense of trust you’d previously had in Lloyd. In an abstract way, you’d always known he was ruthless, but now you appreciated how easily he could rip your heart out if he wanted to. Him wanting to wasn’t even a requirement, all it would take was a moment of carelessness.

You didn’t know what you were feeling more: hurt, anger, or fear. Each emotion claimed a part of your heart, splitting it into three equal pieces. The feelings swirled, a vortex of negative thoughts that sucked you into a whirlpool of despair. Your mood dropped as quickly as the temperatures. Soon, chilly air nipped at your nose and ears. You drew the blanket tighter in an effort to conserve warmth.

The door creaked and you heard Lloyd’s footsteps approaching, but you didn’t acknowledge him.

“It’s getting cold, Princess. You need to come inside.”

You ignored him.

“Princess…”

You burrowed into the blanket, silently declaring your intent to remain where you were.

Lloyd sighed. “I don’t know what to say, other than I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Too late,” you muttered.

“I can’t change the past, but I can give you access to my phone if you want. Is that a reasonable compromise?”

You turned to him, frowning.

“The problem isn’t access, Lloyd. I have that already. The problem is that I don’t want to keep you on a leash, I just want to trust you. Think about it from my point of view - if I’m going to have a meltdown every time one of your exes shows up, I’m in for a bad time.”

“April is my only ex-girlfriend,” Lloyd said.

“So, we’re back to lying, are we? I’m trying to meet you halfway, but if you keep-”

“She is, damn it! I never wanted a relationship before. You know I’m telling the truth, Princess. You were my closest friend for the past three years. When was my last relationship?”

Abruptly, the weight of evidence tilted in his favor. Your thrumming pulse slowed to a steady beat. Lloyd moved closer.

“Come on, Princess, you’re freezing. Let’s go inside.”

You shook your head. “I want to believe you, but I know how easily you can bend the truth.”

“Actions speak louder than words,” Lloyd countered. “I’ve already synced my messaging app to your personal laptop and shared my location with you. If you let me, I’ll prove that you can trust me.”

He extended his hand and you hesitated, but took it and let him pull you to your feet. You let him lead you inside to the sofa, where he laid a throw blanket over your legs.

“You haven’t said whether you’ll give me a second chance,” he said.

You twisted your hands in your lap.

“I know that I misinterpreted your messages to April. That said, I’m not letting you off the hook for withholding information that would’ve put them in context. The root of the issue is that if you decided to cheat on me, I probably wouldn’t notice. You’re sly enough to get away with almost anything, if you set your mind to it.”

“Alright, but let’s take another factor into consideration,” Lloyd said. “The pool of women who actually want to sleep with me after they realize I’m an asshole is smaller than you think.”

“Oh, please. Give me a break, women drool over your ass every day.”

“Before they talk to me. Now, if we consider the pool of men who want to sleep with you… it’s large to begin with and once they get to know you, they’re even more interested.”

You snorted. “Should I sync my messaging app to your laptop?”

“No need, I already know your passwords. Are we good?”

“We’re not bad. I wouldn’t go as far as calling us ‘good,’ though.”

Lloyd nuzzled your temple. “I was telling the truth about April being my only ex-girlfriend.”

“It’s hard to believe, but… it tracks. I know you’re not used to explaining yourself, but if this arrangement between us is going to work, you need to.”

He relaxed. “I can do that.”

You snuggled into his chest, basking in the warmth you found there. His broad palm stroked up and down your spine and within a few minutes you were nodding off.

“How many ex-boyfriends do you have?” Lloyd asked.

Your eyes flew open. “Um… why?

“I just want to know how worried I should be.”

“You don’t need to be worried.”

“That’s not an answer, Princess.”

You licked your lips. “How far back do you want to go? Kindergarten? Middle-school?”

Lloyd scowled. “Kindergarten? How many boys are we talking about here?”

“I…” you broke off. “Hold up, how did we get on this topic?”

“That’s not important,” Lloyd said. “How many boys have you dated?”

You sat up. “That isn’t what you asked me. You wanted to know how many ex-boyfriends I had, not how many boys I’ve dated. Those are two different topics.”

His lips compressed. “Fine, then. How many boys have you dated?”

“I guess about…ugh…” You covered your face, groaning. “Do we have to do this? Trust me, you’re better off not knowing. My dating history is cringe-worthy.”

“I want a number, Princess.”

You sucked in a breath through your teeth. “I might need some scratch paper…”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The End.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reblogs, likes, and comments are all appreciated and welcomed!

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