#LIKE WHAT IS THIS WORLD THESE POOR IDIOTS ARE TRAPPED IN

[exist101]

Incoming Rant  ⚠️

Drawing lil glitched Poptropicans is so fun bc the basic design of Poptropicans is simple and cute but you can make it creepy really fast. I'll do more sketches/doodles in the future, but it's just to think about, y'know? One Glitch can have a floating head, one can have a smile with too many teeth, another can have limbs replace by white boxes like the ones that appear when the game loads...

DIRUFHGVDOLRHG YESSS

Oooooooh these are all really good ideas fr

That's why I love it when Poptropica is seen through the lense of a cosmic horror or something. Tbh with that lore it's begging to be creepy

Wait did you ever finish the novels

[kraviolis]

nintendo hire me i have the best idea for the story of a new zelda game

[midnightwriter21]

can we have the first meet soulmate thing for sorcerer! reader please?? w gojo only

jjk hcs: satoru meeting sorcerer!soulmate!reader

characters: satoru gojo x reader, megumi (mentioned), yuji (mentioned), nobara (mentioned)

warnings: u kill a cursed spirit, possible injury but not rly, mature language (reader cusses gojo out lmfao), the kids & reader lowkey bullying gojo lol, gojo is kinda suggestive at the end

AN: soulmate au where the first words your soulmate says to you are tattooed somewhere on your body!! read the non-sorcerer version HERE

SATORU GOJO

being called in as back up for a mission involving a 2nd grade cursed spirit was not on ur to-do list today

but guess where you are!!

an empty mall!!

an empty mall where you’re currently watching 3 teenagers run around like headless chickens

the curse is ugly… as most of them are but..

this one is NASTY looking

several different colored eyeballs sticking out of various places on its body

it’s oozing some sort of greenish brown liquid

and the smell

dear lord it’s bad

the poor pink haired kid is simultaneously holding his nose and trying to fight the curse with one hand

and it’s main attack seems to be the ability to spit that greenish brown liquid at whoever it’s attacking, rendering them immobile

almost like a glue trap for mice

the curse backs the three kids into a corner and prepares to spit that sticky liquid at them

and that’s when you decide to make your entrance

jumping from the second floor of the mall, in front of the kids, and drawing your weapon

you block the attack and jump towards the curse

severing it’s head and therefore exorcising it in one quick movement

you sheathe your weapon and turn to the kids, “why the hell are you three taking on a 2nd grade mission?”

the pink haired boy from earlier explains, “our sensei was supposed to be with us but when we split up he went to the food court… and uhhh… we haven’t seen him since.”

you give the kids a sour look, “your sensei must be a complete moron”

all at once the kids agree

“he is” -the girl with the hammer

“yeah, pretty much” -the boy with the black spikey hair

“i mean.. kinda, sometimes” -the pink haired boy

you sit the kids down on a bench so that you can check over them and access any possible wounds

mama bear mode activated.

you ask the boy, who you now know as megumi, to get in touch with his sensei

when his sensei answers the phone, megumi explains that the curse has been exorcised

but before he can explain about your presence, you snatch the phone from him and let out a string of expletives directed towards the man on the other end

“you must be a fucking idiot huh? your kids could’ve died taking on a 2nd grade alone and you’re off being an irresponsible jackass somewhere-“

before you can continue you hear the dial tone

he hung up on you

without even saying a word

nearly growling in anger you shove the phone back to megumi and move over to yuji

you take his hands in yours and begin to wrap his hands in bandages saying, “you know, if you keep punching through walls you’re going to end up really hurting your knuckles”

as you wrap his hands you’re not really paying attention to your surroundings, so the smug voice coming from behind spooks you a little…

“it’s good that a pretty little thing like you came to the rescue or else my kids could’ve died since i was off being an irresponsible jackass”

he’s throwing your own words back in your face

whipping your head around fast enough to give yourself whiplash, you prepare to launch into another ass chewing

but your words get stuck in your throat when you’re met with a tall, blindfolded, white haired man

a man known to everyone in the jujutsu world

Satoru Gojo

in response to your stunned silence he lets out a chuckle, “what? cat got your tongue, pretty?”

his mocking snaps you back into reality as you fire back, “no, i’m just surprised on how someone like you can be such a complete and utter dumbass!”

“awww cmon is that the way you’re supposed to talk to your soulmate?” he smirks down at you

you give him a confused look before it hits you

his first words to you from earlier…

“it’s good that a pretty little thing like you came to the rescue or else my kids could’ve died since i was off being an irresponsible jackass”

those exact words are printed on your back underneath your shoulder blade in neat handwriting

looking up at him with wide eyes, you watch as he turns his back to you, pulling off his uniform jackets and lifting up his shirt

ignoring the faint gagging sounds from his students

and there it is, printed in the exact same spot as yours, in your handwriting

“you must be a fucking idiot huh? your kids could’ve died taking on a 2nd grade alone and you’re off being an irresponsible jackass somewhere-“

“no. fucking. way.” you say in disbelief as he turns back to face you

“you have a dirty mouth, sweetheart,” he leans in and whispers softly in your ear, “can’t wait to see just how dirty it can get,” he leans back and says in his normal voice, “but we’ll save that for later!”

[queenie-the-court-jester]

HII, saw your post on wanting asks, well here 🫶 I love talking so, and specifically on playboy yandere!! I'm a sucker for angst and yanderes falling into insanity honestly, so let me ramble a bit

- imagine if reader graduates highschool and gets an overseas scholarships!! They also convince their family to move together with them so Kameron can't hurt or use them to blackmail reader. So with only a break up text saying like "bye manwhore 😍😍", blocking and deleting all their social media, I wonder how long and how far would he take to get reader back again? Would he inherit his parent's riches, hire some private investigatiors to find reader and find the country they're living in, expand his business over to their country in order to gain power to trap his darling. And I wonder how deranged his reaction would be to reader's text and be like no way, they're joking right, and runs to their house and whatever usual spots they're at normally, and just break down into insanity. would he try to use substitutes for reader to maintain his sanity or go fully devoid of emotions and start working hard to gain power and influence to find reader again!! I'm also curious how he would process his darling leaving him, would he become delusional first, saying they got kidnapped or something, or some ex or fling of his hurt reader, and then proceed to anger, depression, grief and then finally accept the reality!!

Ok that's a lot of rambling 😭��� hope it's okay. I rlly enjoyed that fic, was rent FREE in my mind for a whole day

you know luci, you just gave me an idea. So have a part TWO of THIS DUMBASS HOE 🤝

Yandere playboy x reader

Tw: mentions of murder, kameron being delulu, yandere and obsessive behavior

💋kameron was having another breakdown. Sobbing pathetically on the floor of your old bedroom. Just how did you run away? And on such short notice too!? Didn't his love mean anything to you!? WHY DID YOU ABANDON HIM?

💋a million thoughts swirled through his head, until he finally got one that just... stuck. He had to get you back. No matter how long it takes. Getting up and dusting himself off, he kicked the front door open and quickly left the empty house

💋it was a shame really. The once sane and popular boy was struggling to keep his image. So he got help. Not professional as in therapists and medication. Just hiring other students to cover for him Incase he slipped up. all while snooping through the head teachers computer to see if they had any notes on where you might have gone. He almost got caught a few times

"shit that was close.. i can't believe these idiots leave their passwords just anywhere"

💋he knew he shouldn't be back at the school, especially since he graduated but he needs all the information he can get. Eventually moving onto private investigators and online stalking through multiple other accounts. He'd try anything just to see what his darling was doing without him. Were you enjoying making him suffer? You're so cruel..

💋hiring other people to befriend you and lower your guard, gathering any Information they can

💋 kameron who spent a while convincing his parents to let him take hold of the company. He had a degree, a bright mind, responsibility. He's perfect for the job! Oh if only they knew where his 60% was going.. funding multiple businesses across the world in exchange for keeping a careful eye. Making him quite the celebrity

💋look darling! He's on the news-! ...oh right you're not here.. one evening, while working in his office, a new secretary comes in to introduce themselves. They look just like you! He could only stare in shock.

"my love..? Is that you!?"

"..who?"

💋turns out it was just a doppelganger. But with enough time he'd delude himself into thinking it was you. Courting them with the same flowers, chocolates and jewelry he'd given you. It worked like a charm! Now you were back In their arms again. They felt whole..

💋he married your lookalike a year later, the poor fool being too naive and oblivious to think. He was happy for awhile.. or until one of his P.I's came in to show him they found you. His reality started to break.

💋no.. how could he do this to you. Replacing you with some cheap street whore. That night, when they went to bed, he gave them a cup of water and smiled sweetly. Watching as their face went red and they started to cough for air after gulping it down. Clawing at the sheets and staring at him with wide fearful eyes. Begging him to help them

"...slut."

💋 burrying the body in his backyard, he paid people with underground connections to cover for him while he was away. Claiming they suddenly vanished, having run away with a small fortune. How idiotic are people, to actually believe him..

💋kameron disguised himself and went straight for the country you decided to flee too. 5 years apart from you.. he had no idea how he managed to live so long without his beloved, but it was all worth it. Because now you'll be back where you belong. In his arms.

💋you were busy working at your job, running a small business was no joke but atleast the people in the area were friendly. So you didn't notice the suited figure Infront of your cash register

"thank you, please come again-"

💋you froze, looking up at the terrifyingly familiar face. He stared back at you with only glee and love

"hello my darling~ you've been on a naughty streak for a while Haven't you? That's okay, I'll just set you straight when we go back home."

💋big burly men all blocked you from escaping by guarding the doors. Dragging all the other customers out so you both could have your moment. Now you could never leaver leave him. Ever.

[simonisferal]

view me as a god — self aware (yandere) wanderer x gn reader

warnings: self aware au, reader is viewed as the player, reader is obsessed with genshin in the beginning, codependency (aether and wanderer), wanderer develops a victim mentality, traveler is a goat, aether is he/they (you'll know what I'm talking about)

notes: wanderer lore spoilers to those who haven't read, that one event in 1.6 spoilers to those who haven't played; if my account were self aware, i'd actually kms — the characters don't need to see my bio 😭 / i didnt know what team to put him with so i used my own / congrats king on your second rerun 🙏

it was never intended to be taken this far. this little game you've played for years without end had begun to take your social life away and left you in the dark, the only light you saw was the one on your screen.

the sweet voices of the characters , the beautiful scenery and designs, and the story of the fictional world was so alluring you barely slept. thank god your career had the option of working at home so no other potential coworker could've said something about your disheveled hair or your unpleasant smell.

your life was as perfect as can be as long as you see a picture or anything related to your video game! codependency? what is that? shh, you can survive an hour without it!

fuck. once in his many lives, he had never felt so cold. what was wrong with him?

with every name he gained, another tie to his joints tightened its grip on the wanderer, trapping him from the pleasant feel on calmness but the name the traveler gave it felt so pure and warm like a toasty fireplace during the snow. the puppet hadn't felt any warmth in his body since niwa's irreversible death as his still-beating and bleeding heart has been put inside the chest of wanderer. but now it was gone, just like the other feelings of happiness and sweet childish dreams.

"traveler? why'd we stop?" xiangling asks as she helped bennett sit down beside the anemo statue of seven in windrise to heal his injuries as quickly as possible. layla helps the poor boy eat something she packed into her inventory.

the traveler could only stay silent before letting out a small whisper as the wind slows down, the statue of seven only shining so dimly, not like it does when it feels something — someone greater. "i don't feel it anymore." they sit down on the broken stone steps leading to the statue.

"feel? feel what?" layla mutters, laying her head on the globe she keeps near as she rests her eyes. the traveler doesn't respond as they look through their bag for something. they obviously panic, their chest falling down and rising up quicker than a rabbit's. their golden chest plaque dims ever so slightly, just as the windrise statue's light. "the, uhh... uhm, the wind."

of course the idiots fell for it, wanderer thinks as he hears the collective agreement from his party. he doesn't bother setting down his hat as he sits beside a totem near the staircase, not bothering to show his respect to the anemo god or his peers. they're just there to help him please them, to eliminate any obstacle in the traveler's way as their form of appreciation for what they've done for their accounted nations. but they, not the traveler but they weren't pleased.

is that the reason wanderer couldn't feel their warmth? he didn't attack fast enough, hit hard enough, dodge quick enough? was he not enough for the person behind the stars? the dweller who called "earth" their home?

"why are we in windrise, if i can ask?" layla sits beside the traveler. her curls curl around her while her golden accents let out small hymns. "to... to uhh...heal bennett. i do feel very bad for him with his bad luck and all..."

wanderer knew it was a white lie. sure, bennett had been hurt badly even with layla's shielding and guoba's defensive demeanor towards the poor child and his bad luck was only getting worse with the amount of constant traveling the party did but really, all the traveler wanted to do was rest and wait for that feeling.

the feeling of being monitored, not as a prisoner but as a fragile thing, to be cared for and used as a hollow doll—no need to lift a finger unless told to and loved for their hard work—the work they didn't even do. to be drowned in affection, suffocated with praises, and shot with care and pity. something that the wanderer despised so much but craved so badly.

not by anyone, no. no one, no mortal or god could make him feel this way, but something hidden, someone hidden behind a mask, the stars, and celestia itself was waiting for him, wanting him, caring for him like he was.

when he couldn't dodge an attack, he was healed instantly. when he had no energy, it was replenished right before his eyes. when he wanted to be stronger, he became just that. it was a complicated choice between his morals and integrity or his selfish desires and temptations.

bennett didn't heal as fast as he does when the greater person behind the screen is there. he blames it on his bad luck but both the traveler and wanderer know what's really wrong. his pale face slowly turns back to his tanner complexion as time moves forward and everyone decides to rest up a bit before the night ends.

it's been too long since the feeling went away.

"[wanderer]! is it okay if you're on watch duty?" that name. it felt like a childhood lullaby, something the elderly women of tatarasuna would sing him to sleep when he was awoken by nightmares. that name was his, something he held to with genuine pride, not like his other disdainful names that were given by cruel people or joking jesters.

"alright." there's no sigh, groan, or remark afterwards to everyone's surprise. it only happens once in a blue moon and you know damn well that they took it to heart.

layla and xiangling slept beside bennett while aether sat where he was with his eyes closed. there was a moment of silence where it was just beautiful.

the crystalflies didn’t hide from the characters, an anemo one landing on layla’s nose and on the top of the wanderer’s hat. the wind blew ever so softly and for a moment, the wanderer could feel that warmth again.

“what’s up with you?” the traveler asked. his eyes stayed close but they were attentive like always.

“nothing.”

“liar.”

wanderer frowns and slightly turns his head to see them. a smile grew on their face and they sat up, opening their eyes and looking directly at him. “you felt it, didn’t you?” the wanderer looks away.

“do you always ask dumb questions?”

the traveler beside him stifles a laugh. “they’re not dumb,” they pause. they have a visible frown painted on their face now. “you know, don’t you?”

“what? that there’s some being out there controlling us, that the world shifts to their liking, or that you can practically see their face written in those damned stars?”

they stay silent. how’d he even know? was it that meteorite from long ago? “yeah, i guess.”

the wanderer scoffs at his companion's vagueness. “i’m tired of being a vessel.” that was obviously a lie. he can’t remember the last time he actually enjoyed serving someone, let alone helping if it wasn’t for his own personal gain. it felt nice being used (which is something he never thought he’d ever think).

aether sighs, leaning on the totem. they closed their eyes, "wake me up later then."

the wanderer scoffed. "i'm not your alarm," he says but he doesn't complain any further, simply watching over his teammates, the ones you assigned him, with a faint frown on his face. just where were you?

you quickly sweep your phone off of your desk once you come back from an errand. it was only a few minutes but still! you need your game to thrive at work, remember?

it had been days to them. they were at windrise, where you left them, your whole team. thank the gods. everyone was awake and ready to be used as characters.

you continued what you were doing prior to your errand, collecting crystalflies and flowers for your characters' ascensions.

wanderer didn't tell anyone he felt your warmth.

he shouldn't, he couldn't—wouldn't. no one else had suffered like him, it was unfair for those who didn't deserve it to bask in the sweet feeling of your muse. everything bad happened to him; nothing ever bad happened to anyone else.

nahida was right; he needs help!

your help. you were the only one who could help him, help the poor wanderer who had cried and groveled at your feet centuries ago, begging for a god greater than the gods to take care of him and help him—you!

you put him through all this pain to help him in the end, right? to free him, make him truly himself and not part human or puppet but himself again.

his salvation wasn't leaving him; he wouldn't let it happen.

[poisonlove]

Yellow | Jenna Ortega

author; I wanted to do something between a Demon and an Angel.

Jenna ortega x fem!reader

My eyes observed with curiosity and malice the bustling flow of the hospital: doctors striving to save lives, patients seeking redemption, souls finally finding peace, and others descending unaware of the torment they would endure.

I walk barefoot along the corridor, watching with a mixture of fascination and mockery as relatives weep over the lifeless bodies of their loved ones: oh, they were so tender and so... touchingly pitiful. To be honest, I enjoyed contemplating their suffering as they tried to understand the cause of death, amidst pain and tears. It almost seemed like I preferred this spectacle to the daily torment of hell. A sardonic smile played on my face, aware that the daily infernal screams might have offered a greater satisfaction than this context, but what can I say, I settled.

I spread my black wings, stretching in the gesture.

I sneak through the corridors, my lower lip trapped between my teeth, searching for room 5A. A gurney slides past me, and my hand extends over the lifeless body of a man, capturing his soul. I smile widely, watching the soul attempt to escape, the man's body slowly extinguishing.

Poor doctors, so naive.

"I hope Dad is satisfied with this little gift," I say maliciously. "After all, watching an innocent soul burn is so satisfying." I smirk and clench my fist, flames surrounding my hand guiding the soul to the house of the damned.

Lucifer, my father, had informed me of the need to corrupt more souls, specifically requesting this guy: Michael Smith. The name wasn't familiar to me, and looking at his file, he seemed like a simple and boring guy. Green eyes, brown hair, and a dazzling smile. Oh... that's what interests me.

Remorse.

The poor guy felt guilty for killing his father, a violent parent who abused his mother and little sister. From what I can see, Michael even attempted suicide.

"What a shame," I think, "if only he had taken his own life, I would have avoided all this unnecessary trouble of coming to get him."

The doctor exits the room, and I close the door behind me, tiptoeing towards the guy who was sadly gazing out of the hospital window. Of course, I won't make myself seen by the whole world; maybe I'll have some fun with his conscience. Michael had bags under his eyes, showing his fatigue, and his arms were covered with cuts that had already healed.

"Hello," I say, smiling widely, showing my canines.

The guy turns from my direction and opens his mouth in surprise, his eyes slowly looking at me in horror. I tilt my head to the side, seeing his body freeze.

"Even if you scream, they won't hear you," I say bored.

Michael looks around, blinking with disbelief.

"Have I gone crazy?" He says to himself, and I roll my eyes at his comment.

"No, I'm y/n," I say, smiling widely, spreading my beautiful black wings, my tongue passing over my canines. "I've come to give you a hand," I say innocently, his eyes looking at me with curiosity.

"What are you?" He asks defensively, his eyes moving towards the pills near the nightstand. He reaches out his trembling hand and grabs them, looking at their contents. "No, I won't disappear if you take the pills," I say amused, the guy trying to hide his fear.

"What are you?" He repeats, swallowing loudly.

"I have wings, see?" I say rhetorically, my hands grabbing a chair in front of his bed.

"Are you... an angel?" He asks, frightened and excited.

"I have black ones, idiot," I say smiling mischievously, savoring the moment of his realization. "No... no... no..." he stammers, his face turning pale.

"Your father is doing well down there," I say, laughing. "But it's only right that you come too; you killed him," I say, tilting my head to the side.

"Don't listen to her!" Someone suddenly intervenes.

My eyes go towards the sound of the voice, and I smile widely when I see who it is. Jenna Ortega, one of the kindest and most annoying angels I've ever met. Her brown eyes look at me with anger, and I can feel the disdain she feels towards me. Jenna moves a hand away from her face and walks towards me.

Even though Jenna is an angel, I feel a strong attraction to her; after all, it's justifiable since she's gorgeous.

"Jenna!" I open my arms with excitement. "My favorite angel," I say, smiling widely, her eyes looking at me with disgust.

"I can't say the same," she mutters weakly, her eyes shifting towards Michael. The guy was noticeably upset and moments away from fainting. "Hello," she says, smiling widely, a perfect and beautiful smile.

My eyes scrutinized her appearance: brown hair, coffee-colored eyes, and numerous freckles surrounding her face. As a demon, I possess all sins, especially lust. "Don't worry; you won't remember this conversation," Jenna say gently, approaching the guy.

"Hey! I was working on him!" I pout, Jenna giving me a sidelong glance. "I know it seems cliché... but you should never listen to a demon, even if their proposals are tempting," she says, looking at me scornfully.

"Thanks for the compliments," I casually examine my nails, my eyes watching how things unfold. "But now I have to finish my job," I say, smiling slightly, looking at Jenna with bright eyes.

"You don't deserve to die... you did kill, yes..." Jenna tilts her head, smiling at Michael. "But don't feel guilty for saving your family," she says gently, her hand dangerously approaching his body. I abruptly stand up from the chair, placing my hand on Jenna's shoulder, distancing her from him.

An absurd shock pervades my body, but I avoid thinking too much about it.

"If you touch him, I can't take him anymore," I growl angrily, the fire threatening to spread along my body. "I won't let you destroy him," says Jenna, smiling widely, her dimples appearing thanks to her pulled lips.

Jenna challenges me with her gaze.

"I'm a demon, Jenna. It's in my natural domain to destroy," I say with a sarcastic laugh. "And you, sweet angel, should know that better than anyone else."

I observe as Jenna spreads her beautiful wings.

"You're lucky I like you," I say, squinting my eyes, Jenna's cheeks turning red with embarrassment. "An angel blushing at a demon's words? Your God shouldn't be pleased," I say, smiling widely.

"There's only one God," she asserts herself, her voice angry.

"Apologies," I say, falsely smiling.

"What's happening?" Michael says, frightened.

"Nothing, just carry on with life; it's not your fault," Jenna says, smiling widely. The brunette raises her hand and points her fingers at the guy. A white light emerges from her index finger, and a few seconds later, it hits Michael's forehead, making him lie unconscious in bed.

"An angel playing dirty?" I say incredulously.

Jenna releases a sigh of relief since she had erased the guy's memory and then looks at me with a raised eyebrow. "You can do anything in the name of good," she says, smiling at her words.

"Even in mine?" I say, approaching the brunette.

The situation intensifies, and the spark between us grows more intense.

A strange sensation runs through my body, and instinctively, I move closer to the angel. Jenna looks at me with embarrassment. "What the hell are you doing?" she says with concern, her eyes on Michael, who sleeps peacefully on his bed. "Something I've wanted for a long time," I run my tongue over my lower lip, pulling it shyly.

Jenna watches my gesture and swallows nervously.

The brunette stretches her hands and pushes my body away from hers, avoiding my lips that wanted to land on hers. By now, the mission had failed, but converting an angel would be more fun and effective for the cause. "I know you want it," I say with a singsong tone, my breath brushing against her ear.

"It's wrong," she says coldly.

"But you want it," I say, smiling amused. Jenna pushes me away from her body, and I look at her with a raised eyebrow. "What? Every time I roam on Earth, you follow me, " I say mockingly. "Did God run out of supplies?" I ask amused, and she looks at me with anger.

"I come to prevent ruining the balance!" The brunette clenches her fists and glares at me. "Because if it were up to you, you'd let the world burn," she says, and I nod my head, knowing she was right.

"True... but despite that, you can send another one," I say mischievously.

"I have to keep an eye on you!" she snaps and rolls her eyes at my comment. I tilt my head to the side and look at her, smiling sadly.

I huff and turn my back.

I open the door of the room, intending to leave. I squint, and the sensation of flames trying to escape subsides. Other footsteps approach, and I unconsciously smile. "Are you following me now?" I say with a singsong tone, glancing at the brunette from the corner of my eye. "I repeat, I have to keep an eye on you," Jenna replies calmly.

"For what? If the way home is crowded?" I respond sarcastically.

My eyes turn to a patient's room, noticing a small child on the verge of choking. Jenna seems to have noticed but, for some reason, doesn't intervene. What? An angel not intervening? I thought.

How peculiar the situation is. The child's face is turning violet, with no family nearby.

Mmh... not so amusing.

I sigh and raise my finger towards the child. A dark trail hits the child, making them fall. In the action, the object lodged in their throat shoots out like a rocket. The child coughs, trying to recover oxygen, and the color returns to their cheeks.

Jenna looks at me with intense eyes, trying to penetrate the armor of my demonic self. "Y/n, you're not as bad as you want to believe," she asserts calmly, brushing my shoulder with a light touch. "There are still sparks of goodness in you."

I raise an eyebrow sarcastically. "Oh, really? An angel trying to convert a demon? What a nice plot twist."

"Not all demons are irredeemably evil," Jenna retorts with determination. "I can sense that there's still a trace of humanity in you; you saved that child."

The tension between us grows as we argue. The flames around me dance with an uncontrollable energy as my anger rises. "Don't play with fire, Jenna," I say with a mocking smile. "Can't you see this is my realm? Your light has no power here." I confess bitterly. "Man is selfish," I add, raising an eyebrow with malice.

Jenna lowers her gaze slightly, but her eyes remain fixed on me. "I know there's pain inside you, Y/n. But redemption is possible. Don't let the darkness consume you completely."

I approach her slowly, ignoring the flames dancing around me. "You have pity for a demon, Jenna? Interesting. But you can't change who I am. I was born for sin."

"I don't believe anyone is irredeemable," Jenna whispers with compassion. "There are fallen angels who have found the path to redemption. You could too."

"Your naivety is disarming," I say with a sarcastic laugh. "Maybe I embraced my destiny too firmly, but it's too late to turn back."

Her wings bend slightly, and Jenna looks at me with compassionate eyes. "I don't want to blame you, Y/n. I just want to help you find the light that's still in you."

I stop in front of her, the fire roaring around us, the surroundings oblivious to my pain and anger. "You have no idea what it means to be damned," I hiss, brushing her face with fingers as cold as ice. Jenna looks at me with determined eyes, her light trying to penetrate the darkness that envelops me. "Maybe it's time for you to discover how resilient my light is in the darkness," she states firmly.

I smile mischievously, flipping the script. "Are you sure you want to find out, Jenna? My embrace might be darker than you imagine."

Her wings flutter slightly, but her resolution seems to crack. "I can't surrender to your darkness, but I'm here to help you find the path of redemption."

I approach slowly, the infernal flames dancing at our passage. "And what if I told you that my dark side might be your only way out?"

Jenna hesitates, unsure, as the darkness creeps between us. "I won't allow you to corrupt me, Y/n. Light can always triumph over darkness."

With an intensely provocative gaze, I graze her lips with mine. "Light can triumph, but what happens when it mixes with darkness?" I whisper, trying to confuse her certainties.

Jenna falters, but ultimately succumbs to the ambiguous call of darkness. Our lips unite in a kiss full of contrasts, and in the moment when darkness and light intertwine, something extraordinary happens.

A strange energy emanates between us, a fusion of sin and virtue. The boundaries between good and evil blur, creating a paradoxical harmony. Jenna lets herself be carried away by the kiss, her body vibrating with an unknown energy.

Our forbidden embrace opens a breach in the fabric of duality itself, creating a bond between the dark and the light. Everything around us seems to dissipate, leaving us only with the ambiguous intoxication of what we have just shared.

I break the kiss with a mocking smile. "See, Jenna, the boundary between good and evil can be thinner than you imagine."

Jenna looks at me, bewildered and fascinated, while the effect of the kiss continues to reverberate between us. The drama between our souls complicates further, leaving both of us uncertain about the destiny that awaits us.

[wordstome]

symbiote König x reader

I'm not allowed to start any new aus/stories until I finish a few, but I need to expel these worms from my brain. (also remind me to write something about Eddie Brock/Symbiote Ghoap x reader later)

I don't know if you guys know much about Venom lore, but symbiotes don't have a default system of morality: they take on the same traits and moral values as their hosts. They were created as a sort of world-conquering mindless evil force, but when symbiotes bonded to hosts who wanted to do good, they took on those moralities and became ashamed of their purpose. After they imprisoned the dude who made them to be evil (Knull, btw) they just made up a lie that their species was naturally benevolent.

So picture this: symbiote König who's been captured alongside several others of his kind and brought to Earth by the Life Foundation to study their abilities. I like the idea of symbiote König being similar to Eddie Brock's Venom: he's had bad and good hosts, but the bad ones fucked him up really bad, so now he's the König we know: arrogant and confident in his proficiency in violence, but deeply awkward, lonely, and lost. Getting kidnapped and taken to yet another foreign planet to be poked and prodded and experimented on is just his luck.

But then there's you. A pretty little scientist, not much more than a lab assistant, really. Your first encounter with him consists of you touching a finger to the glass of his prison, and him, curious, moving himself to press his inky dark goop where your skin presses against the glass. You giggle before quickly remembering yourself and skittering away. Symbiotes aren't fond of sounds, but he wouldn't mind hearing that one again...

It's little encounters like that that endears you to him. It didn't take him long to decide he hated humans: they're slow and unintelligent and nowhere near as elegant of a killer as he is, and yet they've managed to trap him and torment him. He's quickly noted as being the most unpredictable and violent of the captured symbiotes. But he likes you, who visits him and talks to him. To you, it doesn't mean much: you may as well be talking to a lab rat, finding an outlet to vent your frustrations about your insane work hours, demanding managers, and meagre pay. To him, he's absorbing everything you tell him, longing to touch you without glass in the way. What would it be like to bond with you, he wonders? To merge symbiote with flesh, and become two moving as one?

He'd like to be inside you, in more ways than one perhaps.

He may have fucked that up, though. It wasn't his fault, that day. They were starving him, these idiotic humans, starving all of them. He had no choice but to eviscerate and wholly consume the poor man sent into his glass cage. But you had been watching, eyes wide in terror, as blood and viscera burst everywhere. If he had a heart, it would have ached as he watched you skitter away...

And yet...there may be something deeply wrong with you, just as there is something wrong with him. Because you're back the next day, a new fascination in your eyes. Instead of talking at him, you talk to him now, asking him questions he only wishes he could answer. If he could just reach you, he could communicate...

König gets his wish the day it all goes awry. A whistleblower breaks in and makes off with one of his breathren, and the next person to stumble upon the scene is his little scientist, who doesn't hesitate to start smashing the glass of his prison. "It's not right," you mutter over and over again. "It's not right..."

He can detect your heartbeat speeding up as he drags himself across the floor to reach you. You shy away out of instinct, and he pauses. There are alarms ringing out now, awful terrible loud sounds, and he would prefer to get out of here immediately, but he refuses to do anything that would drive you away for good. He watches as you heave a deep shaky breath, then reach out a hand to him.

He glides up your hand and wrist, working his way into your body, the symbiosis instant and easy. You're a perfect match. He knew you would be. The armed guards burst through the door, but you have nothing to worry about as he envelops your body. You become a six foot ten behemoth, face hidden by what almost looks like a veil—something he picked up from a former host. You're barely aware of what's happening, too overwhelmed and confused to parse what's going on. But he knows what he's doing.

After he gets you to safety, the two of you will have all the time in the world to get to know each other.

[yanderehsr]

I have no idea if you have done this but,

Yandere steleron hunters reaction to trying to breakup with them

Sure, hope you'll enjoy😄

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Kidnapping, Murder

Blade: He thinks he heard you wrong so he asks again, when he gets confirmation that you indeed want to break up he sighs. Guess he has to do this the hard way, he was trying to not have to threaten you but it seems like he has no choice.

With the threat of all of your friends and family members life at stake, you willingly follow Blade, he tries to calm you down but when you don't he just sighs, when you are finally at his home, locked away from the rest of the world, and have fallen asleep of exhaustion from the emotional rollercoaster this day has been, only then does he go for a fast trip to actually kill of your friends and family, what you don't know wont hurt you.

"You only have yourself to blame, you made the choice to be with me, you can't just leave whenever you want"

Kafka: Will actually laugh at you when you tell her, you actually believe that she will let you go, it's almost funny, you seem to have forgotten who she is, she is a criminal of an almost 11 billion bounty, she doesn't care if other people sees her kidnap you, she will do it anyways.

What Kafka does to kidnap you leaves you out of breath, in the sense that her hands are on your throut and strangling you still with that same sweet smile, she knows exactly how long she needs to do this before you pass out without any side effects.

"Oh my poor idiotic darling, this wouldn't be happening if you didn't try to do something so stupid"

Silver Wolf: That's nice, anyways. You may think that she didn't hears you with how calmly she is taking this, but why would she be mad, you can't leave anyways, why? Well the door is gone, leaving only walls, the only way to go outside is if you have Silver Wolf's powers, which you don't.

Silver Wolf still treats you the same, just a bit more harshly, she now forces cuddles a bit more and kisses you more roughly, it's what you deserve for even thinking about leaving her, she is sure you will not even want to leave after say a couple decades trapped with her.

"Yeah, I heard you, I just don't accept that, we are meant to be, so stop spouting such nonsense"

[auspicioustidings]

Price finding an unaccounted for hostage while clearing a terrorist base

(I feel like I’ve read this from you before but with Ghost??? I really hope that was you bc if not that’s slightly embarrassing that I can’t remember 😵‍💫)

Fear not it was indeed me! Now in that universe Price did have a story as to how he got himself a wife so let's say this is a different universe entirely! And oh go on sure I'll make Price less of a kidnapper and more of a handsome hero figure <3

Very Bad, No Good Day

Words: 700ish

Captain John Price would not have hesitated to shoot you. You were in a terrorist hideout, there was no mention of any other civilians and honestly? You were a little too soft and doe-eyed to seem like anything but a trap. He swept the room before even considering going near you, in risk assessment mode. Nobody else here, hastily cleared out safe and then you handcuffed to the radiator with a rag tied around your mouth.

On the balance of probability it was likely you were not a terrorist once he had taken it all in. Wouldn’t make sense to leave you behind, too much of a wild gambit to try and honey trap one of his. Price had met honeytraps before, they did not tend to be thick women in their 30s and as he got closer he could very much see how soft and terrified you were. Poor thing. 

Still, he could not rule out a trap entirely so he called it in and then searched you with firm hands and a gentle explanation. 

“Need to confirm you’ve not got any weapons then we can get you somewhere safe.”

Fuck you were quite the dream woman weren’t you? He kept it tactical even as he felt around and found you very much had hips that begged his fingers to sink into them. Where the hell had this useless lot of criminals found a thing like you? He probably should have been more thorough before he took the rag from your mouth but he was busy trying to scold himself into not getting too handsy.

“Give me the quick version. Who are you, why are you here?”

You blurted out everything in a rapid fire babbling. Your name, your very bad no good day as the unluckiest postie in the entire world who had just been trying to do her job and deliver a package. You probably cried at him too much about it, maybe went too into detail about how mean your boss was and all the names he kept calling you and how he always gave you ridiculously hard routes rather than giving you a standard one like everyone else. 

“Slow down luv, you’re fine. Deep breath.”

You tried, hard not to when this man was the one asking. He was like something out of a trashy romance novel, all gruff and handsome and commanding. For his part Price was doing a stellar job of not letting his face give away the massive ‘oops’ he had made. You were here because they had planned it that way. They had sent a package that was supposed to raise alarm bells, get everyone agitated and sloppy. He had not considered the idiots would think to blame the fucking postie for it. 

It was outrageous how he took a little sharp pin from one of his pockets and picked the lock on your handcuffs. Should that have been as attractive as it was? You were absolutely sure you fell entirely in love with the man when he pulled you to your feet, showing off how strong he was (tactical on his part, contrary to what his team may believe John Price was not bad at flirting, he was merely subtle). Should he save it for when you were not being rescued from an active terrorist base? Maybe. But even if his team may be muppets they were muppets he trusted to have done their jobs when they gave him the all clear, letting him relax just a little. 

He had fully intended on asking you out only you beat him to it, seeing if he might like to get a coffee as you were wrapped in a blanket with a medic checking over you. 

A week later you had coffee. A fortnight and you got your back absolutely blown out over his office desk. It took 6 months for you to move in together (he had asked after 1, you had at least tried to take things slow). A year to the day you met he got down on one knee and you crashed into him with delight with a yes spilling from your lips. 

Many years and several very fat and happy babies later you thought back on it and decided maybe it had not been a very bad, no good day after.

[the-owl-tree]

reading the star excerpt (link here)

i quite like the prologue. i like curlfeather taunting splashtail, i like his insecurity being exacerbated. i think it actually hammers in how young and out of his depth he is

which....sucks the rest of the books portray him as this manipulative mastermind. he's much more fun of a villain when you can see him scrambling for power (and losing it)

which makes the whole riverclan as poor victims kind of suck. icewing rightfully calls out her clanmates for being cowards for uh- *checks notes* using mothwing as target practice?? sorry we're going over the top evil i see. anyways, my point is....yeah, riverclan IS complicit in this, they DO have a choice to say no. splashtail doesn't even have enforcers like brokenstar and tigerstar did, it's literally just one guy - heck the warriors themselves are the enforcers.

fear becomes a limp excuse at this point. you guys gotta unionize or something.

i think the book is really struggling to make splashtail's NO MISS OHKO X9999 ULTRAKILL ATTACK an actual credible attack. look i get it they think he has nine lives, but the three of them could take on a teen i believe it.

i think because this arc won't acknowledge that riverclan is complicit in letting this fester, that they wanted this kind of leadership, it makes him fall flat. how much scarier would it be, more gray it would be, difficult, and so and so on if the clan rallied behind their leader because of the prior events? i get it, they're playing into the fear angle, but there NEEDS to be some more willing participants or this doesn't work.

the closest we get is this exchange but like. guys. the gathering exchange was stupid as hell.

also, you'd think every brit was the worst dog owner in the world LMAO these boys are screaming and straining on their leash while the owners chatting away. every dog in brit is some cat mauling beast i guess.

i was so ready for repetitive "why should we do X??" let's fight about it for the next few pages that it was a fucking relief that cloverfoot was just "yep bring them in!". fucking uh flashbacks from bramblestar's leadership lmao

the phrasing on this made me snick. "behaved so badly" makes it sound like she was kind of unruly, not plotted to overthrow her leader lmao

i dont wanna nitpick, i am actually enjoying that the plot is moving and that things are happening but like....minor waste of a shadowclan pov. you'd think with how often they like to make references to past events, sunbeam being a shadowclan cat could absolutely come in handy in this situation (considering they once had nightheart explain shadowclan history to a shadowclan cat) but when she wonders if riverclan can ever repair itself, it really doesn't come up. idk, i guess i think she could've had a more optimistic perspective but ultimately it really isn't the biggest of deals.

uh oh guys something ELSE happened?? wanna know what happens??? well go buy IVYPOOL'S HEART ONLY FOR 25.99 AVAILABLE NOW AT RETAIL OUTLETS CLOSEST TO YOU. BUY NOW BUY NOW BUY NOW BUY NOW. DON'T YOU WANNA KNOW WHERE ICEWING IS GOING???? OOOH BUY OUR BOOKS!

Oooh the Gathering trap is actually good, ignoring how a lot of them get thrown the idiot ball a little bit to make it work. I figured it out quickly (even though this arc loves having shit happen offscreen), it's nice to see some trickery for once! only real drawback is the books once again going "what did splashstar do to riverclan??" as if he's mind controlling them. I'm gonna actually hold out on hope that this is a set up to Frostpaw realizing her Clanmates haven't been mind controlled or whatever, they're doing this because they want to, because splashstar's ideals appeal to them after everything.

it probably won't happen but i wanna hold out hope.

tentatively interested! preparing for status quo disappointment!

[evolutionsvoid]

As all should know by now, I am pretty passionate when it comes to flora and fauna. As a researcher, I've devoted my life to learning everything I can and seeing every creature I can. I find it all so fascinating, and I can't help but fall in love with the natural world over and over again. I don't know how to put it into words, or properly explain why I care so much about it. Well, actually, I can put it into words, but someone won't let me properly explain it! "Too long," she says! "An intro shouldn't be longer than a novella," she says! But wasn't she the one who told me to write about my passion?! It's lunacy, I tell you! To tell me to pour my heart out and put into words the love and energy that keeps me going, keeps me living, but then limit it to a measly few pages! I won't have it! I won't tolerate it! I will give her a piece of my mind when I see her again! Apparently the last five times didn't get through her thick cap!....Now what was I writing again?

YES, nature! Wonderful animals and plants! What I was getting at was my love for such things, and all the weird shapes, sizes and types they come in! It is perfection! Wonder! Beauty! Every creature adapted in such specific ways! Given such incredible traits! They are living pieces of art! SO WHY DOES SOME NOXIOUS WEED OF A KNOTHEAD THINK THEY CAN DO BETTER?! Magic and its wretched alterations! Bah! Don't get me wrong, magic is a wonderful thing in itself, and it has certainly made everyone's lives easier! Well, at least if you aren't on the receiving end of a magic bolt. Or belong to a poor village that is going to be demolished to have a fancy academy put in instead... But nothing drives me crazier than people using magic to alter and mutate perfectly good species into something else! Okay, well maybe stupid naming conventions are worse. And, perhaps idiots who introduce invasive species on purpose. Okay, so, actually one of the things that drives me absolutely mad is magic alterations of plants and animals.

Now, of course, changing flora and fauna used in agriculture is perfectly reasonable. We were doing it well before magic got so big. The knot in my side is when people mutate species purely for spectacle or to make them living weapons! And with no thought or care for the creature itself! A tool to be used and thrown out! Disgusting! We dryads may use our affinity to these things to cause changes, but we do so respectfully and ensure that the species is not seen as a disposable trinket. The Eyahs are a good example of magic mutations that were done in the worst way possible. A simple primate warped into a crazed, bloodthirsty killer, but then abandoned the second the war was over! Vile! Hateful! A putrid violation of life! But of course I didn't bring this stuff up purely to get my sap pumping, as it is relevant to the species I wanted to write about. The bolt spider is an arachnid that faced a similar fate, used as an experiment in magic.

Originally, the bolt spider was a relatively simple species. About the size of a dinner plate, found in places that had plenty of trees or high up vantage points. Like many of their relatives, they spun webs in order to trap passing prey. The difference here, though, was that the bolt spider was capable of producing a glowing webbing that had some shocking properties! By that I mean it could be electrified by a pulse from the spider's special organs. This was how it quickly dispatched large prey that flew into their web! And the glow of their silk attracted food and drew them closer to their doom! Wonderful stuff! What a neat little species! However, some folk saw these spiders and thought they could do better...

According to the tales, the original intent was to make these spiders larger and produce more silk. This was because their beautiful glowing silk was a prized material, and used in a variety of fancy clothing, potions and other such things. The wild spider populations were taking a hit from over harvesting, as their silk fetched a fair sum. So the idea was to make a captive breed that could fulfill the market's wants more easily. However, at some point, things went foul. It would seem that the bolstering of this species size and abilities through magic caught the attention of some nasty folk. And when they began to meddle with things, a new direction was taken in this program. What resulted was the bolt spiders we know today, a species that is the disgust of many. This is because they are now associated with a magic group that is very unpopular with the public: necromancers.

It would seem that an interesting thing was found with the bolt spider's electrical capabilities. When bolstered to a greater size, there was more power to their jolts, more danger. A full burst unleashed upon a person could fry them outright, but that wasn't the interesting part. What really caught folk's attention was how the electricity affected the dead. When dead flesh was exposed to this energy, it would seemingly come to life! The electricity would make the muscles and limbs go crazy! And that was when the experiments took their turn. They would cease to be silk spinners for fancy tapestries, and instead become undead monstrosities.

The resulting bolt spider was much larger, more potent and very deadly. Its electrical capabilities have been greatly enhanced, and its aggression has been increased as well. These arachnids now rarely hunt by waiting in shocking webs, and instead attack prey straight on. Their legs end in sharp points, which can easily pierce skin. Through this, they can pump a lethal amount of volts into victims. And when one of these large spiders jumps on to you and fully snares you in its steel trap grip, it is all over. For you at least, because with this new corpse, the bolt spider has a new task to complete. Time to take its new toy home...

When presented with a dead body, the bolt spider will position itself on the deceased's back. It aims to align its own body with the spine, where it will clamp down. Its legs will then pierce specific points of the corpse, going for limbs, shoulders and thighs. Its fangs will unsheathe and pierce into the neck, while its odd pedipalps will embed themselves into the neck. Now fully latched on, it will release its energy and the corpse will come to life! Well, not really. What actually happens is that the spider uses its electricity to control the deceased, turning them into an undead puppet. This is how they bring their food back to their nest, or use this new bulky body to fend off foes and capture new prey. But it doesn't end there! Trained by necromancers and enhanced by their foul magic, the bolt spider wants more than a simple human body. As they gather more carcasses, they will use their serrated chelicerae to gnaw through limbs and break them down into pieces. Then, their silk will be utilized to sew the desirable chunks back together, into a horrible amalgamation of flesh and death. Copious webbing will be used to patch it together and hold it all into one piece. And when the bolt spider latches on and uses its energy, the whole thing will come to life, powered by its piercing limbs and electrified webbing. This is where the horror stories begin, with monstrous brutes of undead flesh and glowing "veins," striking foes down with electric web whips and unnatural strength.

Thankfully, the original species can still be found in some remote forests, but they are incredibly rare. These monstrous versions are all people know now, and it is so unfair! A brilliant creature now turned into some undead nightmare! The gall of it all! It causes fear and hate towards the species, even the unaltered ones! Now anytime anyone even thinks of an electric spider, they think of these horrible electric terrors that kill and consume, stitching victims onto their growing mass. Vile! Disgusting! Oh how I would love to tear apart the necromancers responsible for this with may bare hands! Of course, Eucella is very adamant that I don't do this, and that I swear I won't go picking fight with necromancers. Hmph! Tell me what to do! She's still worried about that troll poaching incident. I was fine, I had everything under control! Yeah, so what if they were armed? So was I, with the power of justice and righteousness! Those who kill innocent beasts for no reason will hear from me! I WILL STRIKE THEM DOWN, even if it is only with my fists! Just ask those two poachers I beat to a pulp before Eucella dragged me off them! I could have done worse! (And they could have too, Chlora! There were FIVE poachers there! With spears! I stopped you from getting skewered like a vegetarian kebab, you ignorant weed! And also if you come to my office to rant about the intro again I swear I am locking you in the closet and going home for a long weekend. - E.R.)

Chlora Myron

Dryad Natural Historian

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

"Bolt Spider"

Uh, it is actually called Frankenstein's Spider, thank you very much! Gosh, people!

[calliesmemes]

JAMES CAMERON’S TITANIC (1997)

ROLEPLAY SENTENCE STARTERS PULLED FROM THE SCRIPT FOR THE ICONIC FILM TITANIC (1997). DELETED SCENES INCLUDED.

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

“   You’re a treasure hunter. So what is the treasure you’re hunting? ”

“   She’s a goddamned liar! A nutcase! ”

“   ls there anything you'd like? ”

“   Well, here it is, the moment of truth. ”

“   I know how hard it is for people who care greatly for money to give some away. ”

“   This was mine. How extraordinary! It looks the same as the last time I saw it. ”

“   Just tell us what you can-- ”

“   I don't see what all the fuss is about. ”

“   Your daughter is much too hard to impress. ”

“   You act as if you're going to your execution. ”

“   Outwardly I was everything a well brought up girl should be. Inside, I was screaming. ”

“   You lost our money. I'm just trying to get it back. ”

“   Somebody's life's about to change. ”

“   We are the luckiest sons of bitches in the world! ”

“   Just another example of the men settin' the rules their way. ”

“   Do you know of Dr. Freud? His ideas about the male preoccupation with size might be of particular interest to you. ”

“   She’s a pistol. I hope you can handle her. ”

“   Stay back! Don't come any closer! ”

“   Don't presume to tell me what I will and will not do. ”

“   You're distracting me. Go away. ”

“   Don't be absurd. You'll be killed. ”

“   Come on. You don't want to do this. Give me your hand. ”

“   I've got you. I won't let go. ”

“   Women and machinery do not mix. ”

“   Good for you son, well done! ”

“   Perhaps you could join us for dinner tomorrow, to regale our group with your heroic tale? ”

“   I know you've been melancholy, and I don't pretend to know why. ”

“   It's for royalty. And we are royalty. ”

“   Open your heart to me. ”

“   I’m afraid I'm feeling a little tired. ”

“   Look, I'm running out of time. I need your help. ”

“   Maybe she wants to make peace with the past. ”

“   Could I speak to you in private? ”

“   So, you got a name by the way? ”

“   That's quite a moniker. I may have to get you to write that down. ”

“   I feel like such an idiot. It took me all morning to get up the nerve to face you. ”

“   Look, I know what you must be thinking! Poor little rich girl. What does she know about misery? ”

“   I was trapped in it, like an insect in amber. ”

“   Oh God, I am such an utter fool. ”

“   Please don't judge me until you've seen my world. ”

“   You have a gift — you see people. ”

“   I was hoping I'd catch you at tea. ”

“   Why can’t I be like you? ”

“   They didn't teach you that in finishing school? ”

“   Do you have the slightest comprehension of what you're doing? ”

“   You're about to go into the snakepit. I hope you're ready. ”

“   What are you planning to wear? ”

“   My, my, my... you shine up like a new penny. ”

“   I didn't recognize you. ”

“   Amazing! You could almost pass for a gentleman! ”

“   Remember, the only thing they respect is money, so just act like you've got a lot of it and you're in the club. ”

“   It’s a pity we’re both spoken for, isn’t it? ”

“   Where exactly do you live? ”

“   You find that sort of rootless existence appealing, do you? ”

“   It’s a big world, and I want to see it all before I go ”

“   Something like that teaches you to take life as it comes at you. To make each day count. ”

“   All life is a game of luck. ”

“   A real man makes his own luck. ”

“   What are you doing? I see you everywhere writing in this little book. ”

“   It'll be all business and politics, that sort of thing. ”

“   So you want to go to a real party? ”

“   You're not one of them. There's been a mistake. ”

“   Look! A shooting star. ”

“   My father used to say that whenever you saw a shooting star, it was a soul going to heaven. ”

“   What would you wish for? ”

“   I had hoped you would come to me last night. ”

“   You will never behave like that again! Do you understand? ”

“   I will not be made out to be a fool! Is this in any way unclear? ”

“   You are not to see that boy again, do you understand me? ”

“   Oh, stop it. You'll give yourself a nosebleed. ”

“   This is not a game! Our situation is precarious! ”

“   How can you put this on my shoulders? ”

“   How can you be so selfish? ”

“   We're women. Our choices are never easy. ”

“   Look, you're not supposed to be in here. ”

“   She's a goddess amongst mortal men. ”

“   You're a spoiled little brat! ”

“   You're the most amazingly astounding girl I've ever known. ”

“   You're amazing... and I know I have nothing to offer you. ”

“   I can’t turn away without knowing that you’ll be safe. ”

“   They've got you in a glass jar like some butterfly, and you're going to die if you don't break out. ”

“   Sooner or later the fire in you is going to go out. ”

“   It's not up to you to save me ”

“   I changed my mind. ”

“   I want you to draw me like one of your French girls. ”

“   I expect to get what I want. ”

“   I want to always remember this night. ”

“   You’re trembling. ”

“   I can feel your heart beating. ”

“   It doesn't make any sense. That's why I trust it. ”

“   There’s no cause for alarm. ”

“   Say, did I miss the fun? ”

“   Something serious has happened. ”

“   You can't be serious! We're in the middle of an emergency! ”

“   Don't listen to them... I didn't do this! You know I didn't! You know it! ”

“   I believe you may get your headlines. ”

“   Please dress warmly; it's quite cold tonight. ”

“   Please tell me the truth. ”

“   Tell only who you must. I don't want to be responsible for a panic. ”

“   Do you know who I am? ”

“   I'd rather be his whore than your wife. ”

“   That man tried to take advantage of me! ”

“   Help!! Somebody!! Can anybody hear me?! ”

“   I'll do this with or without your help. But without will take longer. ”

“   I'm through with being polite, goddamnit! I may never be polite the rest of my life! ”

“   So... how did you find out I didn't do it? ”

“   Where you go, I go. ”

“   Don’t argue with me; you know it does no good. ”

“   I will never forget you. ”

“   It seems we've been dealt a bad hand this time. ”

“   You're a good liar. ”

“   I always win. One way or another. ”

“   You're so stupid, you're such an idiot— ”

“   You jump, I jump, right? ”

“   What could possibly be funny? ”

“   Won't you even make a try for it? ”

“   We can't expect God to do all the work for us. ”

“   Shhh. Don't cry. It'll be over soon. It'll all be over soon. ”

“   No... don't say your good-byes. Don't you give up. Don't do it. ”

“   You're going to die an old lady, warm in your bed. Not here. Not this night. Do you understand me? ”

“   You must do me this honor... promise me you will survive... that you will never give up... no matter what happens... no matter how hopeless... promise me now, and never let go of that promise. ”

[raphsmuneca]

𝓔𝓮𝓷𝔂, 𝓜𝓮𝓮𝓷𝔂, 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝔂, 𝓜𝓸𝓮

[Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe] The Introduction

NSFW/18+/suspense/romance/softsmut/agedturtles

Yes, I’m back! 💕

The Introduction

𓆉✩.･*:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•*:｡✩

‘It’s been 5 years now?! Well damn.’

For five unbearable years you’ve had to put a clutch on your womanhood because of the world’s most dominant MAJOR DICKS! Their names? Jerk, Asshole, Pansy, and Half-Wit!

Jerk, aka Leo, ughhh…. What is it with his monarch-like superiority? Given your exceptional teamwork, he’s never satisfied. If his balls were cowbells the resonant clanks would create structural damage to the roads that kept Manhattan’s traffic flowing. You’ve never seen a whiner less creative than he. When you first met him he was vehemently constructing new schemes for the new world of criminals, but now? He is just as boring as his daily cup of tea: green, no milk, no sugar, no steam, just cool green tea. Bleh!

And what of the orifice of all arses, you ask? Care to venture a guess? No need! He’s the one caricature in your mini series of sketches that remains as solid as his “musk-les.” Parodying his temper should make him easier to describe, yet he remains the same insufferable individual. No imaginary weapon or wily tool could crack through that thick skull. He was like that hidden underwater kingdom Aquaman was reaching for; except you lacked Atlantean armor and power. ‘Damn you, Raph!’

Then there’s America’s unrevealed gifted scientist and mathematician, “Dr. Pansy, MD.” He’s Mozilla’s next Firefox “X.” You’ve been treated like nothing but a demi-decade, shrinking violet by this blind scholar. He’s a walking firewall! You speak, he hums. You cry, he hums. You laugh, he hums. The same bland expression on his face makes you question both your humanity and belonging. His focus is strong, but it’s never on you. There was a time Donnie would join conversations to be heard, but now he's as unresponsive as a deaf mule.

And then there's the “half-wit” - I'm not mincing words!! He's obsolete and shows poor judgment, failing to consider the consequences for the rest of us. Are you all emotions and no substance, Mikey? He’s 25 and still can’t grasp the concept of responsibility! I know he means well, and his heart will forever be in the right place, but we don't need a showman; we need someone to hold down this fort since it's falling apart. And, as crazy as it sounds, he's the only one who can wake the rest up. Let's be honest, Mikey's the bass of this beat, and without him, there's no sound.

……

Here we are, after one of our misadventures led us to a faraway planet, at an unknown time, arranging our pre-planned escape, but I must choose to wed one of the four aforementioned idiots. However, with a twist of their own alien-like minds, they have decided that before my chosen one and I can marry, we must first make amends and recreate a romance for their benefit. They possess the technology to alter the ending, yet they permit the victim to select an ending of their liking before taking the next step, which, under my circumstance, means we are trapped in this hell. For their honeymoon, the newlyweds are allowed to travel anywhere in time only this once. That's our one gate! We've been stranded here for three weeks, with all escape attempts unsuccessful.

This is it! I have to choose one of these duds and pretend to care in order for us to make an escape; the problem is, which one do I choose, and how does that story play out?

I managed to convince them to let me tell all four untold stories before making a decision to improve our chances, but, why is it so difficult to go through with this? Because in the last year my bond with any of the turtles has declined. I struggle to hold conversations with them, let alone pretend romantic interest, even if our lives are at stake!

I’ve got quite the parody in my sketchbook, but they lit a candlestick to my ass with this one!

Here we go…

(Part 2 Leo’s Version <-)

Parts 3, 4 & 5 will be added accordingly… DO NOT REPOST!

@thelaundrybitch @eveandtheturtles @margoteve @m1dnyt3-w0lf @raphslovemuffin80 @leosgirl82 @happymoonangel @replicasey @inspiredwriter @fyreball66 @dressycobra7 @avery73 @raphaelsrightarm @android-cap-007 @moonlightflower21 @waterstar2016 @iheartchv @foxflamewarrior

[anathemafiction]

June Q&A 

Beka is left alone with Alessa and Hadrian.

The door closes with a soft thud, and silence falls over the room. Three pairs of eyes look anywhere but at each other. Hadrian sweeps his tongue over his lip, clears his throat, and then lifts his chin to count the number of cobwebs on the ceiling.

He counts three, no, two. That last one is just a particularly damp stain that somehow looks more alive than the cobwebs do. Hadrian narrows his eyes, trying to see the spider hanging from her silken traps, but the light is too dim, and he can't meet the eight little shining eyes that, unknowingly to him, watch him just as intensely.

This is her house, after all. All these meddling humans are always coming to disturb the peace.

Alessa sits like an iceberg in her chair, her back so straight that she rivals the wood. Her hands grip her knees, and her lips disappear in a tense, flat line. She stares at the window, although she cannot see past the veil of night. A slither of a pale moon illuminates the sky, its light as pathetic as the handful of stars that litter it. Alessa thinks this night is a poor example of one, but then again, right now, she would think the whole world is a poor affair.

Alessa does not like, nor is she accustomed to feeling... which is the correct word? She supposed it can be called uneasy. Yes, discomfiting. A fool like Hadrian might even call it awkward. She does not like to feel awkward. And yet... she steals a glance at the child in the corner, sulking on top of the chair like a great bird of gloom. Alessa feels she ought to say something, but what that might be is the real problem.

Why is Hadrian not speaking? Is he not the thoughtful one? Alessa turns her glare at the big fool, who, for some reason, is squinting his eyes at a cobweb.

She mentally sighs.

Beka... Beka glares at the door, and she'll be damned, but it seems the thing is glaring right back. "Damn Richie," she grumbles with all the fervor of a young soul. She sucks on the hole between her teeth, her mood darkening by the second.

She doesn't like to think of herself as neglected. She ain't some dependent stupid little girl. She can take care of herself, she always has. But Beka can't believe you left her here with...

Her narrowed eyes glide over to the two idiots. They're breathing way too loud, and she doesn't like the way that woman is sitting in her chair. Beka never saw a stiffer human. "What's wrong with ya?" she asks aloud, partially because she's done with this odd silence. The other is because Beka likes the way the woman jerks in surprise.

She cracks a mean-spirited smile.

Both the woman and the man turn to look at her. Beka knows their names, but she refuses to even think them. They're just Richie's companions. Not even allies, she's Richie's only ally.

"Whatever do you mean?" the woman asks, then, and Beka's smile vanishes at the tone of her voice. "I am sitting, as are you."

"Am I?" Beka challenges, without much reason. She just wants to challenge something. "That's news to me. I thought I was laying."

The woman's eyebrows shoot up. "Then perhaps you are more slow-witted than I granted you credit for."

The words take a while to process. Beka doesn't like how the woman talks, all complicated, but she blinks, and slowly, she understands. Beka snarls. "Whatcha mean by—"

"What she means." The man jumps from his seat and crosses the floor with eager energy. Both Beka and the cold woman look at him, and Beka can't help but think of how dumb his little nervous smile looks. "Is what would you like to do, Beka?"

The girl turns her chin to the side, giving him a side-long look. She puts in it as much disdain as she can. "... what can we do?" she asks tentatively, voice suspicious. She likes it when people call her by her name, very few do, except for Richie and now... this man. But she won't be so easily conquered.

The man smiles wide again. Beka hates how kind it looks. "Well, how about... we play a game?"

She scoffs. "What do you take me for? A baby?"

"Certainly not an adult."

Beka's head whips at Aless— the woman. "And ya certainly a bitch."

The woman's mouth hangs open.

(...)

Which ROs are most receptive to physical affection?

I'll interpret this as an honest, genuine physical show of love and affection, and not lust or desire. Because that would change the rating a lot — so, for this, I'm considering gestures like holding hands, a chaste kiss on the cheek or the forehead, a brush of gentle fingertips on the back of their shoulders, a tucking of a hair strand behind the ear. Leaning into them or have them lean into you when you're seated beside one another, holding their elbow for silent support, matching your pace with theirs, maybe nudging their feet under a table.

All those small gestures that can feel heavier and more meaningful than a night of passion. All the ROs will, at some point, be okay with (and even seek) this kind of intimacy, but it certainly comes more naturally to some than others.

I think Hadrian and Ysabella are tied for first place. Both are incredibly open with their affection, and both seek it—both need it— in their partners. Hadrian earnestly and devoutly, like a treasure he found after years of deprivation, and he cannot get enough of it. He'll do it often, and he'll do it without even thinking about it. He just wants to be close to you, to touch you, to feel your skin against his, to know that you're there and you're alright and Lord in Heaven, but he's lucky. He's lucky when you smile at him, he's lucky when you kiss him, and Hadrian melts every time you hold his hand back, or massage his hair, or walk beside him. He's lucky when you accept his hug, or the pressing of foreheads, or whatever else he might feel like doing.

Ysabella seeks you because she cannot fandom being away when you're right there. In life, you must take advantage of the good when you can, and you are one bright side of it. Ysabella likes to loop her arm around yours and hang from you as she saunters into rooms or streets or wherever else you might take her. She likes to kiss you: your lips, your cheek, your fingers. Not out of desire, but because sometimes her heart fills with longing, and she has to release the energy somewhere. She'll squeeze you into her chest as if she could take you inside her ribcage and keep you there. Bella, unlike Hadrian, doesn't see touch as sacred, but she does see it as good. It feels good. Why deprive oneself of it?

Next up is The Pirate King.

(...)

What would a serious argument with the ROs be like?

The Pirate King. To his subjects, seeing their captain angry is bad news — they'll jump out of his way, avoid his gaze, and make themselves as small as humanly possible. To his enemies, seem him angry is often a death sentence. But he'll be smiling then, with bloodlust in his eyes.

To his friends, seeing him angry is rare. To his lover... almost unprecedented. If he feels the conversation is turning sour and the mood is slipping out of his control, The Pirate does one thing: he grabs you by the shoulders, gently pushes you aside, and strides out of the room. If he can, he'll take in a deep breath of ocean air, grab his pipe, and puff on it until his blood stops singing.

It won't take long, but he'll calm down, and then, The Pirate will seek you, ready to put the matter to rest. How it goes from there depends on you, but he'll do his best to settle everything and lay it out on the table. When he's tense, he speaks in shorter, curt sentences, wary of saying anything he might regret later.

Doesn't like to say sorry. Doesn't require you to say it either. He just doesn't want to see it happen again — from his side and yours. I think the real problem with The Pirate might arise if the issue is a reoccurring one.

-

When angry, Neia is scary. She gets extremely quiet. Almost unnaturally so. Her eyes will fix on yours, her face like a century-old rock, and her muscles will seem as if they turned to marble because she will not move. You even question if she breathes.

She won't answer you. You talk, you frown, you challenge her, you may even grab her shoulder and shake it. Neia will keep her mouth in a thin line.

When you almost give up, she'll crack her lips open. "Shut up," she'll growl and then grab you and smash her lips over yours.

No one argued with the head of the Inquisition. Neia hasn't had a proper debate outside of combat in years. She either slaughtered those who insulted her, or she pulled rank on them. Having you, of all people, argue with her...

She doesn't know what in hell's scorched lands she’s supposed to do. She does know that it gets her blood pumping and, honestly, if you've heard of angry make-up sex, this would be it. 😄 Unsurprisingly, she's not the best communicator. You'll have to approach her later, calm and try to get through to her.

Good luck, though.

-

Lance Silverthread. Much like Alain, there won't be a big head-to-head confrontation. The bard smiles and hides how he feels, and I think that will be the real crux of the issue: Lance hides how he feels. He can be hard to read and hard to get a beat of, and I can see it raising some issues between you.

It's difficult for him to be open and he'll shut you out without meaning to — it's been a part of his nature for so long; it's like asking Alessa to go dancing and frolicking in the rain. In an argument, Lance will be mostly quiet, appearing to be listening, but you can tell his mind is far away.

He won't avoid you physically, but he'll avoid you mentally. It’ll take some effort to break down those mental walls.

-

Rafael has no problem confronting you. He prefers it. To keep something in his chest is like suffocating. He needs to get it out, or he'll explode. He'll try not to raise his voice, but it's so easy to be swept by his emotions, especially when the bastard cares.

That's the biggest problem, I think: Rafael would feel hurt. He would hate it — hate it — to not be on the same page as you. Deep in a relationship, Rafael just wants to get it sorted. To fix it, as soon as possible. And because of that anxiousness, his methods may not be the best: he can be too pressing when you need space or too intense when you need to wind down. He refuses to go to bed angry, so he'd rather just have a big blown out and then make peace.

Early stages, however... you'll see it in the game a lot 😄. I think one of Rafael's love languages is arguing. You'll argue a lot. If he doesn't care, the bastard doesn't bother. When he cares, though... he'll go all the way. If you're a hothead like him, there's bound to be some explosions.

(...)

If the ROs could go anywhere to spend time with a romanced Romanus, where would it be? What would they want to do while there?

Alessa would like to take you to the shores of a private beach. Any beach, really, but preferably one where the sand is fine and shines in gold, and there are soft, gentle dunes where your feet can bury deep, and soak in the heat of the earth. Alessa would like for the shoreline to stretch in both directions until it lost sight, becoming a haze of blue where one couldn't tell if it was land or sea. And speaking of the sea... Alessa would want the beach to open to the bluest, wildest, most raw ocean that nature has to offer.

She'd want her nose to be assaulted and her tongue to sting with the crispiness of salt. She would want her skin whipped by tempestuous winds and her ears echoing with the defeating, primal, overwhelming roar of the sea. She'd want to see waves crash on the sand and feel their foam bathe her skin. She'd want you to take her cold hand, and walk side by side until your feet touched the chill-bone water and then your ankles, your legs, your waists, your bellies...

Alessa would stop by her chest, turn to you, and hug you close, hug you tight, hug you until she could think of nothing else but your lips crashing over hers as violently as the waves and your hands mingled with the sea and the salt and the wind and the fervent, unrestrained power of nature.

Alessa would like to lose herself, for just a moment, just a bit. In you. With you.

-

If Alain Theer could take you anywhere, he'd take you to the heavens. Again and again, and then, just for good measure, he'd take you there one more time. He'd want to make you forget your own name, where you came from, where you want to be. He'd like, if possible, you see, to have you fall on your pillow like potatoes rolling out of a bag that has been ripped a new hole, and then watch you with a smug grin and a proud chest as your eyes rolled back and you fell into a deep, dreamless, blissfully sleep.

Maybe while mumbling a tired sigh that would sound like his name. Yes, Alain would rather like that.

The good thing about this is that you don't even have to go further than the walls of his bedroom. And they're quite good walls if the nobleman has any say in it. The stones are sturdy, the hangings luxurious, the covers clean, the corners scrubbed, and there's even plush furniture spread around. Wine, if you'd like, servants to fetch fruit and nuts. Alain thinks you'd like it. There's no reason why you shouldn't.

But then... when the candlewax was all spent, and the fireplace was nothing but a sad little mound of forgotten ashes. When the first rays of sunlight would tentatively reach for the line of the horizon, then, if you were awake and willing, Alain wouldn't mind taking you to the gardens behind his castle. There are trees there with birdfeeders hanging from the branches, and... and Alain wouldn't mind sitting next to you on one of the wooden benches — maybe even, if he was feeling particularly sentimental, hold your fingers in his — and pay witness to the song of the morning birds. He wouldn't mind it. He wouldn't mind it at all.

(...)

The entire pieces are available on Patreon!

June Q&A — Part One

June Q&A — Part Two 

[neetily]

↳ EVENT 19. M!Whitney (Breeding & Incest)

— ✧ warnings: stepcest, Creampie, Breeding, Baby Trapping, pregnancy ment — ✧ word count: 3,432

— ✧ A/N: reposting from my old account since i was asked to! formatting might be off, but it's still readable.

The number one worst thing about having a hot step sister glued to his side at all times is that every day he has to fend off all the disgusting creeps that show up to his door, because you're too fucking dumb to see their true intentions and rely solely on him to be your moral compass. You've got a tight fucking body, don't y'know that? No, they don't wanna date you, idiot. They don't wanna court you, or take you on some romantic trip like they so often claim. They just wanna use your holes and milk you for all your sorry ass is worth because you're too pretty for your own good. How does he know that? Well, because he isn't any fucking better himself, truthfully. Throw him in with the rest of the town and you'd not be able to tell the difference between him and the guy next door— but you trust him too much, don't you? More than that, you need him to protect you. It's what big brothers do, despite how he may feel internally, and despite how often he speaks against that ideal; he wants to keep you safe, too. Even if only for more self serving reasons, driven mostly by how his cock thinks, rather than his brain.

Because of that, the second worst thing about having a hot step sister within his immediate vicinity is the fact that he's always hard when you're around. And he can't easily escape you, given that you're literally right through the fucking wall from him. Pining, yearning to bury himself balls deep in your little sister cunt to seek solace for the feelings resting sickly thick in his tummy every time he sees your stupid face. A burning bile, rising to the tip of his tongue when he sees you smile, threatening to spit venom at you when you act all aloof and cute like that. Like you've got no idea what sort of things you do to him, or the general public. Ignorant to how pretty you are, so fucking annoying, especially when you unknowingly leave him with blue balls every night, causing him to fuck his fist to only the memory of you like some sort of seedy stalker.

But isn't he kind of just that? Watching your every move, making sure you don't step too out of line or too out of his eyesight in fear of you straying too far. Late at night, when his fist is wrapped too tight around his fat cock and even fatter beads of precum drool from his red hot tip, he convinces himself that he's just looking out for you. Just being a good big brother at the end of the day. Pleasuring himself to the thought of you in private because that's what good big brothers do. Stealing secret glances of you in the kitchen while petting his fat bulge because that's what good big brothers do. Stealing your panties to sniff at them while his fist fucks his needy cock before placing them right back where he found them; only now a little stained sticky with seed, because that's what good big brothers do. In that, he's tried so hard and for so long to treat you as he's supposed to. Protective, perhaps a little too much so, but nonetheless genuine in his attempts to shield you from the harsh realities of this world. Even at the cost of his own sanity, and his poor cock.

But as he lingers around your open door, shoulder resting against the frame, one foot tucked behind the other, he gets an idea. An insidious one at that, borne out of sheer desperation to reconcile with himself in such a selfish manner it's almost shameful, but an idea nonetheless. Encouraged by the tiny little sleeping shorts you've decided to wear tonight, ass facing him like an invitation, face pressed close to your phone as a display of submission. He briefly wonders if you've even picked up on his presence yet, caught on to the fact that your big brother has been busy for the past few minutes simply staring at your ass, nursing a growing erection with an open palm circling his tip. Because if you have, you certainly haven't let on. But the thought of you being so fucking dull, enough not to feel his ever watching presence at your back side, has his cock twitching for your attention, drives him insane with sexual frustration. Horny at how well you ignore him, God, you're so pretty but so dumb. Fucking slut, you better not be doing this on purpose— riling him up without even fucking trying, it's so beyond frustrating that he has half a mind to treat you as unfairly as you do him, just like how all those abusers outside would like to ruin you. Though, on a more positive note, your complete and utter lack of self preservation only strengthens his secret resolve. You need to be taught a harsh lesson, at the very least, to be more aware of your surroundings.

There's really only one way to keep you by his side forever, to be the best big brother you could ever ask for; eager to provide you with whatever you may need so long as you can satiate the ever growing hunger he feels for you. And besides, it's not like he's technically going to be doing anything wrong... Right, step sis?

Carefully, he creeps towards you. Stalking prey, straying from the creaky floorboards he intimately knows about, reaching the foot of your bed before you know it and pounces. Calculating his fall so that he's got your wrists pinned above your head and your legs locked under his own. A breathy laugh follows, he can't quite believe just how easy you are to catch, but isn't that further proof that you need big brother to be by your side forever? See, he's doing you a fucking favour by keeping you under him.

"Got you." He mumbles absentmindedly, smiling down at your squished into the pillow face as you writhe and wriggle around for freedom under him. You're not helping his hard on, y'know that?

"Whitney! What's your fucking deal— Ouch, that hurts, asshole—"

"Quit yer fuckin' whining." He sighs, dismissing your petulant cries by tightening his grip on your wrists anyway to show how serious he is, and tilting his head to the side, lowering his upper body to get closer to your face. And for a few moments he merely stares at you. Takes in the sight of your confused expression, the furrow of your brows. Cute, he thinks to himself, cautious not to let his hips drop down too low in fear of rubbing himself against you. Usually others appear more scared when he's on top, but like a good little sister you intrinsically know the trust him, right?

In that case, fuck it, he thinks. A split second decision, coaxed into giving in to his more baser instincts by the pretty pout you send his way, a low mutter of you're heavy, can you please get off? as if it were even a fucking question. It's your own fault, really. Should have known that displaying your innocence in such an honest fashion would only lead to others wanting to corrupt. To dirty you, stain you as vile as they are.

Which doesn't exclude your own brother, especially as he yields to his perverted fantasies and drops his hips in one fell swoop, heavy hard cock resting between your ass cheeks that he knows you can feel the outline of. Shoulda worn something less provoking, then. The pretty gasp you let out at the contact causing his own brows to knit together in focus, biting down on his tongue to withhold expletives when you question his ethics.

"Are you— Are you hard, Whitney? Really?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

There's no use denying it, not when his hips are pressed flush against your backside. His heart racing, thumping hard against his chest at the prospect of finally getting a taste of you, his precious, highly sought after, baby sister. He's in your room for only one reason tonight, a selfish seeking to protect you. Whether you agree to it or not is of no consequence, he's only doing what's best for you, okay? And besides, he's so much stronger than you, isn't he? Bigger too... There's nowhere you can run that he won't find you, if you ever get the opportunity to escape.

Given his nonchalant answer, he hears you sigh in response, a deep sound that has his cock dripping more pre just for you. And he can't stop thinking about how lucky he is to hear your resignation. To be resting his weighty cock on top of your pretty ass just to have you simply accept it as par for the course.

And though he'd love to take his time with you, to really enjoy everything you have to offer, to make you cry on his cock— he's been wanting this for a long time. Seething in secrecy, longing for a taste of your sweet sister cunt; he can't wait any longer. Not now that he has your unvoiced blessing, watching as you bury your face back into your pillow and wiggle your ass against his cock— fuck, you already feel so good against him.

"C'mon then," Your voice is muffled, but nonetheless encouraging. A pang of pain in his heart at the way you seem to be wanting him too, a comfortable hurt borne out of disgusting adoration for the one person he isn't supposed to have. And here you are, supporting his lewd love for you. Releasing one of your wrists with the intent to get a move on like you're asking, but instead his hand stops mid air when he witnesses you tugging down your shorts for him. "Before mom and dad get back, okay? Just want you out my room so don't... I don't wanna do it when they're here."

"Fuck me—"

He hears your stipulation, of course. It makes total fucking sense. Fucking his little sister? Perfectly fine. Fucking his little sister when other people are in the house? Fucking weird, don't fucking do that. But he curses loud and proud at the sight of your no panties, like you knew he was coming in to steal you away for the night. Had he stolen your pair tonight? He can't quite remember, mind empty beyond the thought of finally attaining what he's worked so tirelessly for. Helping you pull down your shorts the rest of the way; or at least until they rest by your ankles because he's too eager to get his cock wet already.

Immediately, impulsively, he spreads your legs wide enough to accommodate him. Letting go of your other wrist to allow you breathing room, but also so he can selfishly explore your body. Running his hands up and down your ass, spanking you a few times for good measure. Cock pulsing at the yelps his hands smack out of you, biting down on his bottom lip when he drops his pants low enough only to let his cock spring free. The cool air that hits his sopping tip is almost sobering, if not for the way you pout his name so prettily. An effortless attempt to turn him on, no doubt.

"Yeah yeah, I got it. Want me to hurry up and fuck my slut, right?" He sneers, not even gracing you with eye contact as he spreads your cheeks apart to get a greedy look at your holes. His hips fucking forward on their own at the small glimpse he gets, prompting him to hang his head in shame so that you don't catch the way his cheeks heat up. How the idea of keeping you all to himself, truly turning his baby sister into his little slut fills him with so much joy that he can't help himself from rubbing his cock against your ass, humping his hips against you in barely there snap thrusts just to provide himself some sort of stimulation. Just something to take the edge off as he gathers the courage to put it in already.

Because once he does, he knows he won't be able to stop. And that's a little worrying, considering he's so used to having control over you.

He hadn't intended to wait for you to respond to his rhetorical question, but the way you practically beg "Please." is music to his ears. God, he can't even compare it to the countless faceless sluts he's fucked in the past, completely focused on how his baby sister drips slick for his tip to collect, angling his cock down to catch on your pretty little hole for the first time ever.

And it feels so fucking good to finally have contact with you like this, holy shit. Even just letting precum bead out against your hole would be enough, he thinks. Enough to have him feeling better than he has before, dirty slut, you've only went and ruined his hand for the rest of his life. You better fucking own up to that, yeah? Let him cream your cunt with the intent of knocking you up so that he can be your big brother for life, that'd be a good start, don't you think?

With the way you wiggle against him, leaking all over his cock as if he wasn't providing you enough lubrication with the abundance of precum your simple existence coaxes out of him, he automatically rolls his hips into you. Into your cunt. Gasping for air the second he pushes past your entrance, choking at the way your insides wrap around his tip, and soon enough his whole length when he can't stop himself from ruining his pretty little sister now that you've given him permission.

And after the first few little humps he has you endure, he's settling an unfairly fast pace. Pent up frustration, almost resentment expressed in every relentless thrust over how fucking perfect you are, so much so that your cunt practically shuts him up for once in his lifetime spare some crass comments about your pretty body, or about how fuckin' tight are you? fuck, can barely fit inside, God, look at how pretty my little slut is bouncing on my cock. Mean words as an attempt to hide how downright in love he is with you, how he wants to fuck only baby sister cunt for the rest of his life, moaning openly at the sound of wet skin on skin slapping with how hard and fast he thrusts into you. Like a dog in heat, drool collects in his mouth as his eyes roll to the back of his skull, hands innately finding home on your hips for stability, like they were always meant to be there.

You feel so fucking good it's cruel, cock aching with every pulse your cunt offers around him, every suck of your insides begging to keep his cock inside as he repeatedly fucks you up the bed. You were right, it's best to do this was no one else at home, else you get exposed for being the dirty little sister slut that you are— taking big brothers cock so well, aren't you? Fucking made for him, babbling cute strings of nothing from how frantic his humps are, accidentally cutting you off mid mumble with every greedy fuck; he just can't stop himself. Hasn't a hope in Hell of showing a mere modicum of control while inside of you, head empty and cock hard for you.

And as he's fully sheathed inside, groaning out at the feeling of his balls slapping against your backside, intimate with the way his thighs are tacky like your own from every gush of your wet little cunt around his too big cock, he remembers exactly what he came here to do. The sole reason why you're a moaning mess on your bed right now, tangling the sheets in your cute little fists as if that was gonna help the stretch of his fat cock bullying your insides. His voice comes out hoarse, having to choke on a cough to clear the lust coating his tongue as he continues pumping away inside of you.

"Gonna fuck ya pregnant, kay?

Almost immediately, lagging a little from that good dick, aren't you slut? You start to whine. That same petulant tone you used earlier, and just like earlier, it goes straight to his throbbing cock, makes his balls all taut and his muscles all tense as he keeps you pinned in place with large hands. Greedy hands, bruising in their grip of your body so that you know who's in charge. So that you can't escape him, this is all for your own good, remember?

"Whit— don't, stop I— Ah—!" It's no use though, is it? His cock feels too good in your tight little cunt, big brother just wants to make you feel good, okay? He just wants to feel your cunt suck him off so well, your body is begging for his seed, right? And because he's such a good big brother, he's more than happy to give you a taste. Over and over again, until his seed takes to your womb and you're stuck with him for life, tension building in his tummy at the thought of walking around with you hand in hand, big pregnant belly scaring off anyone who even dares to look at his sister. His slut, whining like a pretty bitch as he drags your ass back down to meet his every thrust, can you feel how desperate he is for release? So eager to stain your insides white in an effort to prevent others from touching you, to keep you safe forever; it's just big brother duties, it's okay if dumb little sister minds can't understand his reasoning. All you have to do is lay there and fucking take it. Take his pounding, take the pinches and slaps on your ass, take his sticky precum coating your thighs, just as well as he honours the ring of your cream at the base of his cock. You're so pretty, his eyes trained on the spot where he disappears over and over again into your tight little hole, greedy little cunt. But he's fucking it too fast for it to truly capture his attention, instead his head is thrown back with a dopey grin tugging on his lips, sheer pleasure rolling down his spine with a gasped: "Shut up, doin'— 'M doin' ya favour. Fuuuck, jus' like that—" before shooting a load deep into your sister cunt. Still fucking himself through the orgasm that washes over him, that has him drooling from how fucking good it feels to finally claim you as his own, hopeful that his stink will scare off anyone else from even attempting to get close to you in order to abuse you the same way he has tonight.

And, if he's lucky, the continued thrusts he provides your tender, swollen hole, milking himself for all he's worth against your cervix, he'll have successfully filled you up enough to impregnate you. Doesn't that feel good? Poor baby was probably just a little worried like he was, right? His breathing is laboured, heaving for air by the time he's done emptying his balls inside of you, but still the first thing he does is collapses on top of you. Smiles to himself at the soft little oof you let out with his added weight, but he's not here just to laze around.

From now on, you're officially his. And he likes to take good care of his sluts, especially if they're as precious as his little sister. Step or not, he cares about you enough to wrap his big arms around you with a chaste kiss to the back of your head, hiding his face against your neck to nose at your scent as he calms down.

"Gross." You whine at his affections, and he agrees. Rolling you over onto his side with him so that he can sneak a hand between your legs, warming his spent cock in your hole still as he brings attention to your puffy, touch starved clit. The resulting moan you let out is thanks enough for securing your future with him.

Though, what's worse is that he's thinking about doing the exact same thing tomorrow, planning to leave the house only once.

You'll need some pregnancy tests, won't you?

[anonymous-dentist]

Soulmate au where everyone with a soulmate has a little marking on their wrist in the shape of something related to their soulmate. It isn’t usually romantic, like we’ve got Pac with a creeper on his wrist and Mike with a little Pac Man symbol.

And Roier? He has a cat, but he’s never really believed in soulmates. He’s always been a firm believer in Having Fun and not tying himself down to someone because of fate; if he wants to settle down with someone, it’ll be because he loves them, not because a magical tattoo is telling him to

He tries Spreen, gets stabbed for it. Decides that love isn’t worth anything, decides that his real soulmate is the torture chamber under his basement

And then a boat crashes on the island, and time seems to slow down as Roier accidentally meets the eyes of one of the poor Brazilians trapped in the boat’s office

Meet Cellbit, who’s managed to convince himself that he doesn’t deserve a soulmate after all the terrible things he’s done. He wears long sleeves and he wears gloves that cover his wrists, so almost nobody knows what his soulmate symbol is. But he knows. He knows it’s a spider, which is one of the few things that freak him out, so, like. Nah. He’s good

Unfortunately for the audience, our two idiots don’t realize shit for a very long time. Roier doesn’t wear a spider-man logo until after their engagement. He calls Cellbit ‘gatinho’, but he does so as a flirtatious counter to ‘guapito’. Both of them keep their symbols covered, and neither really care about the whole ‘soulmate’ thing at all because they’ve decided they love each other and that’s what matters

It takes until Festa Junina for someone to put the physical pieces together, and it’s actually Foolish. He knows how to keep a secret, though, so he stays quiet until the date. He gets Leo to spill wine all over Cellbit and Roier’s hands where they’re joined over the table, soaking their sleeves (and gloves) through

Roier immediately swears and swats playfully at his sister. He rolls up his sleeves, showing his symbol off for the first time as Cellbit begrudgingly pulls his gloves off to let them dry, showing his symbol for the first time. Who cares if they see each other’s symbols? They’re getting married no matter what at this point, probably, who cares about soulmates?

The world freezes. They look at each other’s symbols, and everything just sort of clicks into place

Roier laughs so hard he cries. Of course! Of course he managed to fall in love with his soulmate without even knowing it was him!

Cellbit, though, is quieter. He still doesn’t know how to feel about the whole Abueloier Thing, and he isn’t sure if Roier would even want to be soulmates with him

The answer, of course, is a resounding “Of course, pendejo! I forgave you before I even found out we’re soulmates, shut up. Let’s go back to the castle. Now.”

So they go back to the castle, and they talk, and they decide that them being soulmates doesn’t really even matter because they would’ve fallen in love with each other regardless of what the Goddesses of Love had planned. Maybe that’s because they’re soulmates, or maybe it’s because they’re so in love that they don’t need to be. It’s a bit of a paradox, but so is everything else on the island. They’re in love, and that’s all that matters.

(They don’t tell the rest of the island, though. They wanna see how long it takes everyone to figure it out.)

(Joke’s on them, everybody already had a pretty good idea after one week of them hanging out together.)