#but like it was not the same guy as the original guy you smashed up

[jokeroutsubs]

[📝ENG TRANSLATION] The coolest guys in the Balkans: We hung out with the Slovenian sensation Joker Out ahead of their new tour

Original article written by Kata Biloš for Journal Man, published 15.11.2024. Photos by Martina Movrić. English translation by @moonlvster, review by IG marija_rocen, IG irenalemajic, proofread by @flowerlotus8

Full article under the cut 👇

Since they went to Eurovision last year with the song 'Carpe Diem', the Slovenian band Joker Out's continued success hasn't stopped. They've gained a large fanbase, performed in various European cities, and now they're going on a regional tour too. Bojan Cvjetićanin, Kris Guštin, Jure Maček, Nace Jordan and Jan Peteh are our man crushes this month. The tour is accompanied by the release of their new album - 'Souvenir Pop'. Not even we could resist their charm so we hung out with them at a special photoshoot.

The region was missing a band that has an irresistible sense of style, infectious songs and an even more infectious charisma. Besides that, they're not afraid to be themselves and talk about their feelings, and since we celebrate Movember every November on this portal, we couldn't miss the opportunity to host Joker Out in our Journal Men section. Here's everything they revealed to us.

You recently released your new song - 'Bluza'. You recorded the music video with Buč Kesidi, how did that collaboration come about and what was the shoot like?

We already played the song 'Bluza' on our European tour and it was very well received by the audience, so we decided it should be a single. When the idea for the music video came about we knew we wanted that kind of 'kafana' atmosphere. And when we were thinking about someone who could smash a bottle on Bojan's head, Zoki from Buč Kesidi immediately came to mind, and Luka is, as we saw, a perfect waiter too. So it came together that our two bands are both active in the region, and the visual component matched too.

The new song will be on your upcoming album. Could you reveal a little bit of what we can expect?

The album will be called 'Souvenir Pop'. It represents everything that happened to us since the beginning of our Eurovision journey up until now. That was a very interesting period for us, a lot of things changed, our lives kind of turned around by 180 degrees a couple of times and we had to pour all those experiences and feelings into something. In the end, we came to the conclusion that the songs are completely different and there's no common thread between them, but that's exactly why they feel like memories from various places and people and they remind us of various smells and tastes. So it's a very interesting album which is actually like a magnet that we brought home from a trip.

We mentioned Buč Kesidi. You're often compared to them and we read somewhere that they're one of your idols. When you were just starting out as a band, did you have the same idols or have your tastes in music always been so different?

We had a few of the same idols, which are more or less Slovenian bands - Siddharta, Big Foot Mama and Dan D. As for international music, we're mostly into the Beatles, ABBA and Arctic Monkeys... Otherwise we come from quite different musical roots. Jan is more into metal, Kris listened to a lot of hip-hop, Jure listened to a lot of Irish folk music, and Nace and Bojan listened to - everything!

You have a concert in Zagreb soon. We know it's hard to pick your favourite audience, but what sets the Zagreb audience apart from others?

The Zagreb audience is specific because when we had our first concert there (which was our first concert in Croatia as well), we were the most open-minded. The first time we played in Zagreb was at Šalata with Buč Kesidi and we had no idea what to expect and what the audience's reaction would be like. And the reaction was phenomenal. Because of that specific concert, we decided to perform at Tvornica Kulture. So we could say that the Zagreb audience created that shock effect for us and really turned around our perception of how people here see us and how we see them. We love the Zagreb audience a lot.

Since it's November right now, we're celebrating Movember. You have a song which talks about anxiety. How important and difficult or easy is it to show those emotions through music, as a man?

We think that day by day it's more accepted that people generally talk about their feelings and more difficult mental states. Society has started accepting that we aren't constantly cheerful and smiling and that's how it should be, because it's not in human nature to constantly be happy. We've never seen that as a taboo and we never had problems sharing our emotions with other people. Maybe that's the reason why it was a little easier to write about it.

The truth is that the song started taking shape in my head in English, which is maybe a sign that we had to dig into our subconcious to open up in that sense. But we still enjoy how different languages represent our different sides.

To end things off, what will you do after the tour? Are you going on a well-deserved holiday?

Yes! We're actually we're going on a real holiday for the first time. We're taking January and February off and that'll be the first time in two or three years that we don't have to think about our next song or project while on holiday. We can't wait! Our brains are a little fried, which is quite normal in this business, and we were fed up with ourselves, the other band members, and the noise and everything. We still absolutely enjoy everything, but like any normal person, we need rest too and we're really happy that we will get some rest.

Joker Out starts their regional tour on the 22nd of November in Ljubljana, and they're coming to Zagreb, to Tvornica Kulture, on the 3rd of December. Which other cities will they go to, but also a bit of the atmosphere from our photoshoot, can be found in the video below.

And in the end we leave you with Joker Out's new album - Souvenir Pop!

Thank you to the restaurant Mek Per's for letting us shoot at their location.

[spiribia]

you have no idea how long ive had very clear vision of hermes/amon/fandaniel animatic. look at my crude storyboard for the intro part.

[yandere-sins]

The Orcas' Tale - Lyr's Story II

Here we go! I really wanted to post it on Friday, and I pushed through! Corrections are the bane of my existence ;; Please read the warnings and enjoy the end of Lyr's Story! I hope you guys enjoy the conclusion and look forward to the last part of the saga featuring Krill as well! Thank you all for being patient and waiting so long for this!

Fandom: Original Content   Pairings: Yandere!Orca Merman x GN!AFAB!Reader   Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Non-Con Kissing/Touching/Fingering, Bondage kind of, Intercourse, Breeding, Modified Cock), Violence (Sharp teeth/claws, Strangulation, Violent outburst, smashing reader's head against a wall, Size Kink), PREGNANCY TROPE (but make it yandere/baby trapping), Mentioning of discrimination against the mixed baby, Monsters/Non-Human reader, Animalistic behavior, Mention of blood/claws/sharp teeth, Being caught in a net, Sexual Intercourse hinted at for both of them, Dolphin mating mentioned (basically non-con), Long post

"Look at those juicy lips."

You flinched at the sensation of Lyr's tongue dragging up your scales before swiping over your slit, the cold clashing with the heat of your cunt as his tip teased the entrance. There was an involuntary gasp before you bit your lower lip to hide any more sounds, refusing to give him the satisfaction that was already confirmed to him by your smell. 

Lyr had made a whole show of cutting parts of the net so he could drag up your arms and hang them from a jagged rock on the cave wall. Compared to his claws, the rock wasn't strong enough to cut through the net, but you struggled still, hoping the pressure—albeit painful on your wrists—would come to your rescue before anything worse could happen, the tips of his cock already protruding out of his tail even though Lyr seemed to be nowhere near that level of arousal that tingled in your own loins. 

He watched you as you struggled, indulging in your defiance with a dangerous desire waving through his eyes. He kept taunting you, closing his lips over your slit, letting the tip of his tongue flick back and forth while his hands held your tail steady, thumbs positioned to spread the normally hidden part wide open. You held his eye contact, even just to try and make him reconsider going any farther. However, when you felt his tongue parting you, slowly driving deeper into your cunt, your head fell back as you moaned, Lyr's lips parting in a wide grin.

"Not so bad, eh?" he mumbled against your lower lips, winding his tongue against your inner walls, and you couldn't help tensing and snapping your hips as you tried to escape and push him further inside you at the same time. Your body wanted what your mind didn't, and he had thoroughly prepared these two to disagree while he lavished in your failure to refuse him. 

Abruptly, he pulled your tail down, the net finally ripping in some spots, but not enough to free you. Like a shark on a blood trail, he lurched forward, pressing his face into your body hard, gaining a few more inches of depth. His long tongue wiggled around, curling and drilling into you until it assaulted all the sweet, nerve-wracking spots that made you tingle from your spine to your fin, and you had to listen to Lyr finding the same kind of enjoyment pleasuring you as he moaned and sighed. 

"Perfect," he moaned, pulling his tongue out of your cunt, leaving only aching emptiness behind. "You're perfect."

"Please stop…" you mumbled, perhaps unable to deny the pleasure raking through you but not the tears of unwillingness mixing into the water. You looked at him earnestly, pleading with your eyes, trying to find some reason in the merman. 

But there was no such thing left in his corrupted mind.

He chuckled, shaking his head at your request. You watched as his hand drove along his chest, down to his tail, fingers resting along the outside of his slit, caressing the sensitive skin. "Don't think we can stop now. How else are we going to make this family a thing? My dad taught me better than to leave someone high and… well, gushing in your case."

Sharp teeth flashed out of his grin as he watched your expression turn horrified, his cock slowly slipping out of the slit in his tail when he applied pressure. You expected it to be long and perfectly sized for an orca, but with how haggard Lyr appeared, you never thought of something of that girth and curve as it appeared before you. Even in his own hand, it was no small feat, and Lyr squeezed and bent it, showing it off to you from all sides. There was no gentleness in how he treated himself, but great pride straightened his posture, trying to make the sight more available for you when he noticed the way you looked at it.

You'd never had something so big before.

Lyr watched your every move as you gulped, your body trying to shuffle away from him in fear, unable to imagine how his cock could fit into you past the tip. There were bulb-like deformities on the underside, and you recognized the roundness and size of the pearls you had collected before. "D-Did you…?" you stuttered, and Lyr's grin grew even wider. He pressed his pointer finger to the underside of his cock, dragging it up over every pearl lodged beneath the skin, and you watched them pop right into place even as he moved over them. 

"Do you like 'em? I got myself one for every big guy I killed. Nice collection, don't you think? Everyone loves them."

Your whole body contorted at the thought of the additional pleasure these alterations would give you, the pearls rubbing against your walls, pressuring the already limited space as your pussy wraps forcefully around every one for them. "Lyr I– I can't. I can't possibly take you. Please, you have to understand that!" 

"Aww, don't tell me you're scared, lil dolphin," he cooed mischievously. There was no way he didn't understand the panic in your voice. But the playful spark of arrogance and self-centeredness dancing in his eyes made you realize he was very much aware of your biological differences. He just didn't care. 

Leaning down, he began licking your slit again, this time with his hand brushing up and down his cock as he kissed and explored your entrance, working up the heat inside you again. It was hard to concentrate on his rambles, slobbered words while he pumped his cock up into a frenzy, adding fingers to his tongue going in and out of your cunt, spreading and scissoring you open, preparing you for the inevitable as your mind began to cloud from the pleasure, hiccups and moans escaping you equally while you thrashed against him. 

"You'll be perfect when you welcome me inside. Tight and warm, ready to take my seed. You'd like that, right? Letting yourself be fucked into a pretty mess by my big cock and then grow my pups in your belly? I'll be such a good dad. I'll be so much better than my own. You'll make such a nice mommy, too, always big and round and never preferring one of our kids over the other. I can't wait to watch you raise my pups. I'll make you so happy, lil' dolphin."

"N-No…" you stammered, but your protests were weak against the delusion he was living in. Your resistance faded as your orgasm built, tail pushing into his fingers, silently begging to keep stimulating the spots he could reach. He was dangerously close to cutting you with his claws, and yet all your thoughts were imagining him going deeper. There was only one way he could, though, you realized quickly when he was knuckle-deep inside you, and you bit your lip bloody, refusing to ask for it. 

"Anyone ever told you how good you taste? I could eat you up, you know," Lyr mumbled, and you shivered as he slurped up the slick you produced right from its source. "I never tasted something like this before—you're the fucking best."

His hand on his cock was growing restless, pumping the red flesh violently in his hold. You almost felt bad for the poor cock, mishandled and lonely and so far away from your cunt—no! That wasn't what you were meant to be thinking about. "I'm not," you whimpered. "I'm just me."

Lyr's eyes dragged back up to yours, watching you intensely. For a moment, the water around you two grew strangely calm. The calm before the storm, you realized, your shoulders sagging in discouragement. "I'm a dolphin," you reminded him gently. "And you're an orca. We can't have a family. We can't even reproduce."

His movements were surprisingly gentle as Lyr moved upwards. You flinched once more as his fingers popped out of you, destroying any chance of relief and making you whine quietly. But you turned your head away quickly when his lips closed in on your face. There was another melodic chirp in your ear, encouraging you to be hopeful in the language of your people. It ran a shudder down your spine, clenching at your heart. 

"You don't know that," Lyr muttered, sounding almost sad about your statement. One of his hands slid down your belly, gently rubbing it in circles. "We could. No one said we couldn't."

"You're being delusional," you confronted him, finally facing Lyr again, only to be met with the hurt of smashed dreams visible on his face. Even if you two had been on better terms, there was no way for you to comfort him. No hands free and no sympathy for the merman, so you wouldn't sing a merry tune for him or rub his back. He had to hear the truth, face it, and come back from the trip he was on. "We can never be a family."

At this point, you were ready to face his wrath rather than letting him play house with you any longer. Even with your pussy throbbing, you knew that it would be better to die than accept his delusions just for relief. You two weren't 'mates' like things were told in the legends. Partners who'd weather every up and down in life together, no matter the circumstances of their lives. In his delusion, he wanted a family to compensate for his messed-up one. But that couldn't be with you, and normally, orcas weren't the kind of creatures to seek it out, either. Then again, nothing about Lyr was normal.

You two had a few more seconds of stare-off when you felt something big pushing against your slit. Confused, you looked down, only to see Lyr guiding the tip of his cock downwards, pecking at your entrance. "Lyr!" you gasped as he popped the thick tip inside, spreading you wide open, yet not even nearly wide enough for the rest of him. 

"We have to try! How else can we make a family?!"

With desperation in his voice, you finally realized all your efforts had been in vain. "No!" you screamed as he pressed in further, but his free hand rushed towards your throat, gripping it tightly as he ground his teeth, pushing into you inch by inch. Your voice was cut off, and when you tried to struggle, your trashing only further allowed him to enter you, tearing you open painfully. 

"Just… stay still!" he hissed, baring his fangs at you while smashing your head against the stone wall. Immediately, dizziness overcame you, and you had no choice but to let him invade you, your survival instincts slowly dying down as he closed off your gills, taking away your air to breathe. Your brain was growing muddy, not even the pain registering anymore, while Lyr concentrated on getting his cock inside you, not even your gasping concerning him. 

You felt his massive girth fill you up, going further and further inside until it was kissing your cervix. Yet, he wouldn't stop there, pushing past it so he could fill you with his complete size, your body strained to the last inch to accommodate him.

"Fuck, you're so freaking tight. I didn't think it would be that hard…" Lyr admitted, gnashing his teeth in annoyance. However, by the time you felt yourself go limb, his tail finally connected with yours, and a sigh of relief went through Lyr. He pulled his hand from your throat, giving you back your ability to breathe. "How is it? Feeling full? Betcha your little dolphin males can't even satisfy you half as good."

Unable to say much, you just looked at him, watched as he reached to your belly, massaging his throbbing cock through your skin, making you whimper. Your body made a miserable attempt at tightening around him, and he moaned loudly, bashing his forehead into the stone next to yours. There was a tentative drawback of his hips, just a few inches before Lyr slammed it back into you in its full glory, both of you moaning loudly. 

"Too much…" you whined, and Lyr leaned down, kissing your cheek down to your lips. 

"You'll get used to it."

Before you knew it, he caught your lips with his, diverting your attention from his rolling hips. Both his cock and the pearls used to adorn it tried to make space while your body desperately worked to keep it all together. You were still unprepared to receive another drag and blow to your cunt, squeaking into the kiss only for Lyr to do it again. Again and again, until your sobs were replaced by moans, the friction between your bodies heating up the water around you. 

It was so frustrating. The way you couldn't move, couldn't defend yourself. You couldn't bite through his tongue shoved down your throat or scratch him bloody with your claws. You've never realized how awful it was to be prey, always having been protected and loved in your family of dolphins. And you knew you were a fast and swift swimmer, able to get away from him, but your bad luck streak started with the net. And the most frustrating? Even when it hurt, even when it was unnatural and painful, you could feel the pleasure building, the orgasm he never finished returning quickly and violently as Lyr plowed into you. 

And so was he.

"Mhm… close," he mumbled against your lips, pulling his tongue from you to litter your face with little kisses instead. "You'll become a mommy soon, I'll make sure of it. Gonna fill you up real good, 'nd—hngh! Lil'dolphin…"

His words were a messy mumble, but you didn't concentrate on them. Much to your dismay, you felt yourself anticipate his pushes, your body moving on its own as it chased the height of pleasure Lyr gave you. Everything worked together so perfectly, even your own clammy tightness, as it allowed the pearls to pop in and out of you individually, stimulating every spot of your sensitive cunt. 

Unfortunately, Lyr was right, and your body adjusted to his size even though you never wanted it to, allowing it to come and go, pulsating between your walls in a warning of what was to come. "Lyr…!" you mumbled, and he groaned loudly. "Lyr, I'm so close!"

"Fuck, I can feel it, lil dolphin. Cum for me and open wide, let me give you what you need!"

Somehow, in the delirium, he managed to reach up, slipping your hands off the rock spike and instead over his head, entangling you two further. What a cruel fate it would be to accidentally get stuck in this net with him, entangled until the last day, filled with his seed, and so close to being eaten by your unwanted mate once the hunger struck. This cruel thought was stuck in your head even when he kissed you lovingly and deeply. It was as if he truly devoted himself to you in a moment of clarity, something a dolphin had never done with you. They had never bothered to adore you in the midst of getting their cocks coated in your slick. But Lyr did, with all the naturalness of a mate and all the love of a male who wanted the future with you. And strangely unbothered by his cock still hammering into you, driving you up the edge, so focused on his love even as you stabbed your nails into his shoulders, losing yourself to pleasure with the last bit of defiance.

It was you who snapped first, crashing back to reality in a life-shattering orgasm. You bit and tore his lips as you came, but you couldn't register it in the moment of overwhelming delight as your body contorted, opening up just for a few seconds. It was enough for him to spill all of his seed into you, using every inch of free space and carving out more. At the same time, Lyr's hand supported your lower back, pulling your tails upwards so the juices wouldn't spill from you any time soon. He even thought of that before giving in to the pleasure, nipping and ripping at the skin of your cheek, neck, and shoulder with the same kind of fervor as you had. 

You two were lost completely to the depravity that had just happened, and neither of you spoke or moved; only the pulsating shaft inside you still kept you on the high, allowing you to feel anything. It was just too much, and somewhere along the line, you must have passed out from the mixture of pleasure, pain, and insanity of this situation. Maybe it was better that way. Never waking up again was an option you had tried not to consider. Still, it seemed better than the alternative of staying alive with Lyr. Perhaps pregnant, perhaps thrown back into a mating frenzy if not. Either way, you didn't want to face reality; your brain disappeared into the darkness. 

A soft touch to your lips was the last thing you felt before the world collapsed around you.  

The first thing you felt when you awoke was the emptiness inside you.

Well, not completely. You tried to move, sighing at the heaviness of the net holding you down. It spread evenly all over you, pressing you to the ground as if it had gotten even heavier, wrapping around you tightly. But what truly made you snap back to reality was the warm sloshing inside your belly and how it distressed all your other organs. 

"Shh, shh, shh," someone hushed you, the net wrapping around you even tighter, holding you around your back and pressing you forward into the heaviness. Exhausted, you forced your eyes open, looking directly into the white of a body rather than the light or darkness of your surroundings. "Don't move so much, mama," a familiar voice chuckled before large hands rubbed over your back, surprisingly soothing the aches you felt there. 

"What…?" you mumbled, reaching up to wipe your eyes free of the sleep, finally noticing how free they were. Confused, you brought them up to your face, looking at your wrists, which were covered in cuts and scabs, already healing. "How long have I…?" 

"Two days,"  Lyr answered, finally giving up on soothing you and sighing, pushing you slightly away from him. Not enough to let you go, but enough for you to wriggle in his hold. "I was really worried, you know?"

Looking up at him, you registered his pouty face while he seemingly waited for an apology from you, but all you could do was blink a few times, feeling incredibly groggy. "Do we have some food?" you asked him weakly, and his eyes lit up as he nodded. Now, he truly had to let you go, slipping away from you to bring you a fresh catch of fish. His absence gave you a moment to finally take in your surroundings despite the ache you felt from every movement.

When you tried to sit up, you felt the sloshing inside you again, looking down to find your belly swollen and round, just like Lyr had promised. You rubbed over it, realizing you were still filled to the brim with his cum, and inspecting your slit, you saw a patch of seaweed conveniently covering it, presumably keeping everything in. You scratched at the sticky corner of the patch, only for your hand to be pushed away by a larger one, Lyr reprimanding you gently, "Don't. You'll make it spill everywhere and I just cleaned."

Your groggy mind still worked through his words as you looked around, noticing the cove now littered with trinkets and decor. The amenities all seemed strange and foreign, but you recognized them for what they were, pelts and trophies. It made the little cove almost… homey. 

Before you could say anything, Lyr pushed a fish into your mouth, and you began chewing subconsciously. You were hungry, and the drive to eat came naturally. You downed three large fish before you felt your strength return, together with your clarity of mind. Your body did a test move, your fin rising and falling, no longer held back and restraint, and your eyes widened as you watched your tail move freely. 

"You cut me loose," you gasped in surprise, and Lyr grinned, proud of himself as he nodded. 

"Can't have my pup's mom unable to swim with them, can I?"

With a joyous laugh, you rose from the sandy floor you had been stuck to for so long, circling the cove briefly before slipping through one of the openings, the light shining down at you as you rose toward the surface. 

"Hey! Hey!" Lyr yelled after you, and you felt the immense current of his body moving, always just a few inches away from you. Almost as if it wanted to pull you down again. Yet, he didn't stop you. With a big splash, you exited the water, feeling your lungs inflating again for the first time in weeks, your gills no longer supplying you with air now that you were back at the surface. 

However, you miscalculated the new mass of your body, falling backwards and threatening to clash on top of the water. It wouldn't be the end of the world, although it might sting and briefly disrupt your happiness. Before things could come to a rough end, however, two arms caught you, gently redirecting your fall so that Lyr clashed back-first into the surface rather than you. 

"You're killing me," he whined as you giggled. Being able to swim and move around made you beyond giddy. It had been way too long, so even this small win against the trauma the net and Lyr inflicted on you was elevating. He followed you as you swam around the surface, enjoying the sun on your face and chest as you drifted on your back, letting the water move you to wherever it was going. Although you couldn't shake the nagging presence at your side, glowering at you while you did your thing. 

"You're being too reckless," he blubbered, mouth half underwater, half outside. "What if you hurt the baby?"

"What baby?" you giggled, your mood still high as can be.

Lyr grumbled a bit more next to you before he dove underwater. Curious as to where he was going, you turned over, only for him to swim up to you from underneath, lifting you out of the water as he let you ride on top of him. "You're pregnant, can't you smell it?"

At first, the meaning behind his words didn't register, but your body knew what to do. Your hand drove back down to the seaweed patch before pulling away, smelling the sweet scent of a pregnant mermaid on your fingers as you dangled them in front of your nose. 

And just like that, reality came crashing down. 

You grew stiff as a board, slowly slipping off Lyr's body and sinking down into the depths of the ocean again. "That can't be…" you uttered, shocked and doubtful. You two had only done it once, right? Had he… he wouldn't, right? There was no way he'd use your body after you passed out, right? How long were you out of it? Two days? That wasn't enough to get pregnant, right? Right? He wasn't even a dolphin; this shouldn't have worked!

Lyr's eyes were filled with adoration as he swam after you, covering the light from above with his body as you two sunk to the sandy bottom again that had been your prison for so long. He caught up to you before your body plummeted completely, slipping his tail beneath yours to allow you to fall on it, cushioned, with his chest to lean on. 

"I can't be pregnant…" you whispered as his hand fell to your stomach, caressing your tummy gently. "I'm all alone here! I don't even know where my family is."

"I'm here," Lyr chimed in, adding a few manipulative dolphin chirps to comfort you. "You're not alone."

"How will I raise a child? I can't do it, I need to go home! I need to see my mom and sisters! They know how to care for children… I…”

"You think they'd take you back when you come home with my pup?" 

Lyr's question made little sense at first. Of course your family would welcome you back! They'd help you through the pregnancy and the birth, and then you could all take care of the…

"Oh…" you whispered. "Oh, no…"

Lyr chuckled, but even his amusement sounded a little sad. "If it's any comfort to you, my family wouldn't help us raise the kid either. Considering it's half-dolphin, it wouldn't last a day amongst orcas. They would tear the little pup apart."

"We don't know that!" you yelled, the panic turning into a hysterical frustration. "My family loves me! They wouldn't abandon me! I just need to talk to them. Surely they will...! They..." 

Your voice broke as you tried to stand up for your parents, siblings, aunts, and nieces. You were one big family; you always stuck together! But you couldn't help it—Lyr was getting to you. The what-ifs were creeping into your mind, and his presence, holding and comforting you, didn't help with pushing the painful thoughts away.

He grew a little quieter, pulling you tighter against him while still being wary of the life growing inside you. His voice was hushed when he whispered it in your ear. "We're all this pup has. No one but us could love it. No one will accept our little family."

The realization instantly made you sob. 

There you were, finally free of the net holding you down. Free to swim around, free to do whatever you wanted. And yet, you were more trapped than ever. Even if your family took you back, you knew that neither you nor your child would have a peaceful, loving home. Besides, Lyr would probably show up there, too, disrupting and uprooting your family just because of your mistake. 

Lyr held you as you cried, pure, unfiltered despair ringing through your screams and cries. It must have hurt his sensitive ears to hear the full force of your siren voice cry out, but he never even flinched. He just held you gently in his arms, rocking you back and forth until the pain finally washed out with the tears disappearing into the ocean, leaving nothing but numbness behind. 

"I knew you'd be a great mom. It hurts me too, you know? But we are doing what's best for our little… calf. We'll be a good family, even without anyone else, I promise you. Just like I made this a reality," his hand fell to your stomach, hinting at your baby, "I'll always be here, always take care of you and all the kids we'll have. I promise."

"I don't want this," you sobbed, the words hurting you more than you wanted to admit. But they were true. You didn't want to make a family with Lyr. You didn't want to be away from your actual family. And you didn't even want the baby. But you knew it was already too late. There was a sea witch out there, who could have rectified this situation if only you could contact her.

"You will," Lyr said firmly, claws digging into your tail. You winced, but this time, he didn't soften his grip or make sure you were unharmed. "You have no choice," he reminded you, and the realization hit you again that he was right. 

Even if you tried to leave, he wouldn't let you. He'd drag you back and force you into doing what he wanted, just like he had from the moment he met you. You no longer believed in the mate bond that connected two soulmates, but if he knew about it, it seemed that was exactly what he thought you two were. And that meant you'd never, never leave him again. Lyr was mad enough to imagine a bond that wasn't there, even if he never heard the legend.

"Let's be better parents than mine, okay? I promise to be gentle and love you no matter what, so please…"

You had to see it for yourself, make sure you bore witness to the madness you always thought to be deep inside of him. You needed to see if he was too far gone to reason. If there was any chance you could still escape him. A little spark of hope remained as you lifted your head, looking up at him and catching his gaze with yours. 

Only for that little spark to vanish completely. 

His eyes were empty, big and dark, and utterly void of sanity. All you saw was your reflection in them, paired with the small hints of his feelings all over his face. The desperation and loneliness in the way his face was covered in wrinkles. You noticed his love for you in the big, adoring smile he gave you through all the pain and bitterness that had shredded his lips, blood drafting from his mouth. He was holding back—what you didn't know. Perhaps the need to kill you, wanting you dead rather than defiant. Or perhaps he, too, was trying to feel something again, so he bit open the scarring bite you had left on his mouth.

Whatever it was, you realized he, too, was too far gone to be saved. Just like you, albeit unwillingly in your case. 

It made you almost inclined to agree when he told you exactly what he wanted. Almost.

"Don't ever leave me, okay, my little dolphin?"

[shdo-xplosion]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧 .ೃ࿐

𝐩𝐫𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨!𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮 𝐱 𝐩𝐫𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 2.4k words; aphrodisiac accident, explicit smut, no reader pronouns but “pussy”, “clit” and “cunt” are used, pussy slapping, slight overstimulation, some plot, some fluff

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: first full one-shot! bakugou seemed like the right choice since his birthday just passed. manga cap colored by moi ( ᐛ )و plspls tell me what you think of my writing! i’ll really appreciate you!

𝐒𝐨 stupid.

You can’t believe you had forgotten to update such critical information—paperwork you had filled out nearly ten years ago that you simply never thought to return to, never remembered to return to.

Now your reminder has arrived (too late) and is standing in front of you with a deep frown etched into his features as he examines you from across the hospital room.

“M’sorry,” you breathe heavily, “you don’t have to stay.”

Bakugou doesn’t move aside from crossing his arms over his chest and making his quintessential mocking “tch.”

Dabbing your forehead with the wet rag you’ve been clutching for dear life, you try again. “No, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Nevermind the fact that it feels like your skin is on fire, and your blood is bubbling with need.

Fucking aphrodisiac quirks. Every hero knows to beware of them despite how rare they are, but after avoiding such a quirk for years, the warning turned into more of a myth in your head, even with the waivers and emergency contacts you’ve filled out in the past—one packet while you were still at UA (in which you listed your best friend as your ‘rescue partner’) then again at your first real agency job.

“Just list me, I don’t care,” the Dynamight had waved off. “Those quirks are so fuckin’ rare you’ll probably never run into one.”

So you put your fucking boss down on the paper like an idiot, and he scribbled his messy signature like an idiot, and then you both promptly forgot about the exchange until right this moment.

“Don’t be stupid,” Bakugou huffs in front of you, finally walking to you and snatching the rag out of your hand to wet it with colder water in the sink.

It’s been a couple years since you’ve seen each other in person aside from tense, fleeting moments during missions. He’s still attractive as ever, still gives you butterflies like when you originally worked for him, like when you used to ogle him through the TV in your early teen years.

He’s in his thirties now, and though his hero costume hasn’t changed much over the years, he fills more of it out—specialty spark-proof shirt sticking to every dip and curve of muscle, gauntlets looking less humongous where they hang under impressive biceps. He slips said gauntlets off and gently sets them on the stiff hospital couch then moves back to you and places the wet rag on the back of your neck.

If you weren’t so distracted, you’d be surprised at his composure, especially since you didn’t actually leave his agency on the best of terms. There had been a… disagreement about a promotion that resulted in you packing up your desk and storming out, not caring about the bridges you would burn by doing so. To add insult to injury, you ended up at one of his best friend’s agencies working under Chargebolt.

You expect Bakugou to bring it up and get mad, scold you for making such a rash decision (like he doesn’t do the same thing), but he doesn’t. All he does is sigh and mumble, “how’d you even get in this mess, ya’ dumbass?”

It makes you laugh which makes you cramp and throb between your legs. You aren’t sure how long you’ll be able to stand the small talk, though the cool water dripping down your back helps alleviate some of the heat.

“Seemed like a typical smash n’ grab,” you tell him, clenching your jaw when you feel his bare fingers graze your hairline. “Was not typical, it turns out. Guy got away with a bunch of jewelry and I got away with…”

“A need to fuck?” Bakugou snorts.

Your run your hands down your face while whining, “don’t say it like thaaaaat,” because it’s embarrassing.

“Why? That’s what it is? You got hit with a quirk that makes ya’ need dick.”

His tone is amused but it still goes right to your pussy.

“I don’t need dick,” you argue. “The effects will wear off on their own.”

“Yeah, but it’ll probably take longer.”

You watch as he bends at the waist to unlace his boots and take them off. He unbuckles his belt next, unbuttons his pants, and you’re swallowing excess saliva at the thought of what will happen next.

It’s Bakugou. Murder God Dynamight. Your old boss who you sort of fucked over. The idea of being so vulnerable with him nauseates you, but… he’s here, and he’s undressing, and he’s peering at you like he has no qualms whatsoever.

Your head is screaming at you to shoo him away, but your cunt is leaking with arousal, insides pulsing in time with your heartbeat, and you just don’t have the willpower to deny yourself the relief that he will surely grant you.

“Fine. Just know that I know this is a dumb idea.”

“You’re the one who didn’t fill out new paperwork,” he reminds while peeling off his shirt. “Take your clothes off, idiot.”

You roll your eyes but also obey without protest. “I see you’re still sweet as ever.”

All of your clothes are damp with sweat as you take them off and fling them somewhere. At this stage of a hookup, you're usually a little shy, wanting to cover yourself back up, but you’re not operating at full capacity as of now. There’s no room for shyness.

A lot of pro heroes have merchandise that goes far past t-shirts and keychains, and Dynamight is no exception. You don’t know how many “replica” dildos you’ve seen online and in sex shops, and though many of them are appealing, none come close to the real thing.

Bakugou has a fat cock, mushroom-shaped head leaking with translucent precum. A vein pops and curves up the side like a river that accentuates his girth. A gradient from pale to angry pink, it might be the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen, though that could be the aphrodisiac quirk talking. His is the kind of cock you want to suck, the kind you’d happily let bully your throat open. More than that, though, you want it inside of you. You want it to make you cum.

You reach out to grab him, but Bakugou steps just out of reach with a wicked smirk on his face.

“Nuh uh,” he shakes his head. “Gotta show me that pussy first.”

Your vision tunnels from the lust that overwhelms you, and you throw yourself onto your back hastily, shamelessly spreading your legs in both display and invitation. You don’t have to see yourself to know how pathetic you look, sweating and panting, thighs already trembling as slick leaks from your hole in thick globs. You’ve never felt this kind of desperation before, and now you truly understand why heroes are warned so heavily about these quirks.

“Fuck me,” Bakugou exhales, sliding to his knees and bending forward to press his face between your legs. At first all he does is breathe in deeply. You would blush if you weren’t in such a state, but the action only turns you on more.

A tongue traces from your hole to your clit, parting your lips and gathering your arousal with each pass.

“Bakugou,” you whimper, wiggling your hips wantonly.

“Shh, lemme make you feel good,” he rumbles.

Tears pool behind your closed eyelids, and you plead with him, “wanna feel good with your cock, pleeease.”

You feel his derisive exhale more than hear it, but as he rises and gets on the bed you definitely hear the words, “greedy brat,” leave his mouth.

Your back arches like your possessed when Bakugou guides his thick cock into your hole, gummy walls sucking him in until his tip is kissing your cervix. You need to be fucked now, need him to fuck you and fill you with his cum over and over again, “please, Kat…” you sob, falling into old habits of when you considered each other friends.

“I’ve got ya’, sweetheart,” he promises, slowly thrusting. “M’right here.”

He feels so good, sliding in and out of you and making a home of your insides. You feel him in your stomach, in your chest, and your heart starts beating too fast when you lock eyes with him.

“Ready for more?” he asks.

“Yeah, yesyes, please.”

Without any further warning, Bakugou manipulates your legs so that they’re pressed to your chest, knees parallel to your ears. Your eyes roll with the new angle, spongy tissue massaged in just the right way, and when Bakugou realizes he’s hitting the right spot, he starts snapping his hips harder and faster.

You’re full-on crying now, a steady stream of tears dripping from your eyes, but you’re smiling, begging, thanking whatever god there is that Bakugou is here and taking away your pain.

Your pussy squelches with every thrust, wetness splashing between your bodies, creating a tacky mess all over thighs and pelvises.

“Feel good, baby,” he tells you, and his own eyes are cloudy, lips parted and just asking to be nipped. So you lean up as well as you can, grabbing him by the hair at the back of his head, and kiss him sloppily.

Bakugou groans, rhythm faltering as he shoves his tongue in your mouth. It feels like you can’t breathe anything but him. He’s filling every inch of you, invading every sense. He smells like gunpowder, tastes like caramel, and feels like a body of divinity.

“S’your pussy always this creamy or is it just for me?” he growls, letting go of one of your legs so he can slide a finger alongside his cock, thoroughly coating it in your juices then pulling it out to show you.

“Quirk,” you gasp. It has to be, right? You can’t be this out of your mind for Bakugou, can you?

“Oh yeah?” he starts tapping your clit with his fingers, growing a little more aggressive with each hit until he’s slapping your swollen bud.

“Just the quirk, huh? This pussy squirting ‘cause of the quirk too?” He rubs over the slick bundle rapidly, overstimulating you until your body pushes out a geyser of squirt that soaks Bakugou’s toned chest. He resumes slapping your pussy, making you jerk beneath him, and keeps up the ruthless cycle until the bedsheets are drenched and you’re babbling a confession, “it’s you, always you, wanted you for so long, Kat…”

“Yeah, that’s what I wanted to hear,” he tells you approvingly as he starts fucking into you again.

Your walls swell around his cock, spasming with an impending orgasm. Bakugou keeps drilling into you, spewing filth right in your ear, breath hotter with every taunt.

“You wanted this cock so bad, yeah? That why you left me?”

You shake your head, jaw falling open as your climax builds.

“Wanted me to fuck your little pussy but didn’t know how to ask? Well, I am now,” he continues, “finally gonna fill you up like I’ve wanted to.”

Your breath is pushed from your lungs in a long moan when it hits you, puffy cunt gushing around Bakugou and milking his own orgasm from him, hot cum painting your insides and slowly oozing from your loosened hole.

You’ve heard that with many aphrodisiac quirks it takes more than just one sexual cycle to get it all out of your system—multiple phases of excitement, multiple plateaus, multiple orgasms, and multiple resolutions.

But sometimes one is enough. If the cycle is strong enough and your body releases enough…

“God, I feel so much better,” you say, chest rising and falling with each deep breath. “Thank you.”

Bakugou pulls out and rolls onto the bed next to you, also breathing heavily. Though still hard, you know his cock is spent, slowly softening where it glistens with the mixture of fluids. He doesn’t say anything, just nods.

You figure he’ll catch his breath then get up and leave, remind you to change your emergency contact.

But after several minutes of post-orgasm bliss, he pipes up in his gruff voice, “so why did you leave like you did?”

It’s not really what you feel like talking about, but you kind of owe him. Plus, the answer is pretty simple.

“You already know. I was angry about being passed up for the promotion,” you sigh. “I thought I was doing pretty well as an intermediate sidekick, but… guess not.”

“Nah, you were doin’ great. You did well with me and all the other pros.”

You glance over at him with narrowed eyes. “Then why’d flaming pubes get the promotion?” you think back to the new sidekick bitterly.

Bakugou opens his mouth but immediately closes it again. Sits up, hunches forward, drags a hand down his face.

“Kat… why?”

“Cause I didn’t want you on crazy fucked up sites,” he tells you, voice too loud. “I’d seen you cry during rescue missions and didn’t like it, and you split your fuckin’ head open on the Dark Shot mission, and I didn’t like worrying about you!”

You stare at him in bewilderment. He was… trying to protect you?

“You would rather some freshly graduated sidekick die than me?”

“I don’t want anyone to die, but least of all you.” He heaves a shaky breath, hands shooting out like they’ll help him explain himself better. “You were a distraction for me! If I could keep you even a little bit safe, I could keep doing my job right.”

Your head is clearing. You’re still foggy from your orgasm, but at least you’re no longer sex-crazed.

“So, what are you saying exactly?”

“Dude, don’t play stupid,” he snarks, but you can see the plea in his crimson gaze: don’t make me say it.

Fighting a smile, you decide not to tease.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I was distracted the entire time I worked for you. Crushing on your boss is hard.”

A faint blush reddens his cheeks as he mutters, “yeah, so’s crushing on your god damn employee. Felt like some school boy bitch.”

“Is that why you saved me today then? Get what you used to think about all the time?” you smile.

“No. I saved you ‘cause I signed my name on a legal fucking document.”

The very beginnings of disappointment rise in your chest, but before they can fully bloom, Bakugo leans over and kisses you. Much softer than what you had initiated while in the throes of passion. His lips are gentle, moving in sync with yours. There’s no tongue, no urgency, just pure satisfaction and contentment that makes you melt.

“Getting to do that is a pretty big plus, though.”

2023 ©️ shidou-x. Please don’t plagiarize or repost my works to other platforms.

[itsnothingofinterest]

The implication that society at large hasn't learned a thing from its Original Sin (Shigaraki's backstory) is making me ill... Between this and Touya/Dabi's ending, I feel like I'm reading the ending of a tragedy from an Outsider POV or the bad ending path in some video game and being told to Suck It Up Buttercup, because this is a Good Ending Actually!! I've never felt more insulted reading the ending of a story...

Oh same here; a part of me is even beginning to wonder that you might be on to something labeling the whole story a tragedy. The more closely you look into things, the more it looks like every aspect of this ending is a tragedy underneath a thin veneer of “well things are happy and the day is saved now.” I’m almost suspecting if it’s on purpose.

Dabi was beaten, and now Touya is stuck in cenobite cosplay in prison as he lives out the rest of his single digit days letting his abuser talk at him while the rest of the Todorokis wait to hear that the eldest son has died once again.

Anyone considering that the next AFO or Tomura could be out there is taking the exact opposite approach from correct; saying they need to not be sympathetic and instead close their hearts to such a person to better persecute them, driving such folk to villainy faster.

We don't know what happened to Toga but the faces we've seen on Uraraka these past few chapters do not fill me with hope.

We started out with a 4-digit, maybe even 5-digit hero figure when this all started, and the only solution we’ve seen anyone think of (and only as a joke) is to fill the streets with more heroes. Otherwise you can’t fix this; Deku’s talk with AM and Taukauchi ends concluding that you can’t prevent these tragedies.

That sucks when the end of humanity is coming sometime in the next century; just far enough away that no one cares, just close enough that no one can stop it. And though a cure was developed, Deku smashed it to dust and scattered it to the winds alongside the guy he vowed to save; and when the end comes, likely no one will know that Tomura could have prevented this.

It feels poetic how much this reflects hero society as a whole, how much it repeats everything Tomura said in real time. All this present tragedy and future disaster swept under the rug of “but the big bad villain is dead, smashed to pieces by the next symbol, the day is saved, isn’t it?” I once thought MHA was supposed to be optimistic. It has not turned out that way. But it might turn around my opinion on Hori’s writing if that turned out to be on purpose.

...But that might be too much to hope for.

[nethhiri]

Bloody kiss with kid? 👀

Sorry this took so long! Hope you enjoy!

GnReader x Kid

Warnings: Mild violence

Bloody Stubborn

It had been a few months since you'd joined the crew. They had noticed you during a bar fight and had asked you to join. There was nothing holding you to the island you had been on, so the answer was fairly simple. It helped that you thought the captain was incredibly hot, too.

It was evident that he thought the same of you. From the second you stepped on the ship, the two of you had a playful, flirting relationship. Much of the crew were playful in the same way, so you fit right in. It was easy and fun to be around them, but especially him.

He often showed up for a few hours during your night watch to keep you company. During these times, the superficial facade was relaxed to allow for deeper conversations. A few times he stayed until dawn. A few times when he left, there would be small metal animals where he had been sitting. You, being oblivious, thought he dropped them and returned them to him. Him, being stubborn, refused to use his words to tell you that he liked you.

You watched your captain fall from across the ship. Marines had ambushed you. After the Kid Pirates nearly gained the upper hand, they brought out seastone weaponry. Kid could no longer repel and they couldn't rely on his protection. It took them a lot longer to pull through than they originally thought. Right as you started to breathe easier, you heard Kid call out and turned in time to see him fall to the deck in a spray of red.

You moved through the fray as quickly as you could, even beating Killer to Kid's side. His pale skin was dripping with burgundy and you couldn't even tell where he was bleeding from. His eyes were closed but he was breathing.

"Captain!? CAPTAIN!?" You shook him. "Kid!"

You started to panic, tears forming in your eyes. Kid was everything to you. He gave you a reason to laugh. He gave you a reason to be happy. He gave you a reason to exist.

"You have to get up!" You shook his shoulders. "Please!"

Tears started falling down your cheeks and onto his face as you searched with your hands to find where he was bleeding. Your palms came away covered in scarlet. You sniffed back snot and tried to keep calm. What if he never woke up? What if you never got to tell him how you felt?

"Even if I was dead all that yappin would've brought me back." Kid coughed and slowly blinked open his eyes.

You were overwhelmed with relief when you heard his voice. So overwhelmed that the only way you knew how to express your gratitude that he was alive was to lean down and smash your lips to his. You tasted the iron from the blood spattered across his skin. Quickly you pulled back, shocked at what you had just done. Before you could, however, Kid pulled you back to him.

"M'still dyin. Come back here."

Near where the two of you were, Wire leaned over to Killer. "Do you think we should tell them it's not Kid's blood?"

Kid had simply been knocked backward by a blast at the same time Killer had cut someone in half, spraying blood all over the place.

"Nah let Kid have his kiss. Big baby won't confess otherwise." Killer folded his arms and shook his head. For a guy as cocky and overconfident as Kid, he was sure shy when it came to love.

[animasolaoriginal]

A B A N D O N E D 🥀 1/3

A new-in-town urban explorer stumbles upon a (not so) well hidden secret in an abandoned building, turning his life upside down when he takes more than pictures and leaves more than footprints.

Normal dude meets broken girl turned sex toy

WARNINGS: Urban exploration. Implied past rape. Implied past caning. Wounds and injuries. Objectification. Submissive character. Strangers to lovers. Angst. Hurt/comfort. Fluff. Eventual smut*. (More tags on AO3.) WORDS: 7.6k

A/N: This is a spin-off to my original story INFATUATED, set in the same universe. There's no need to have read INFATUATED, just know that there's a man we refer to as Sir who took in (kidnapped) a girl we refer to as Darling to make her his personal little plaything (but then proceeds to develop “feelings” for her), and this is the story of one of the unfortunate girls before her. A "study" on what a normal dude may think about an abandoned sub. Remember: this is fiction! A product of my own sick little mind, a fantasy. Our guy here may have some opinions later that may or may not stem from my own view on things (just some rants about certain kinks, and if those insult you, please forgive me, I don't mean any kink shaming. Everyone is valid around here – except Sir who might not get the best reviews in this story). By the way, the protagonist may have a name here, but it's only mentioned a few times, so you can still imagine any character here if you want to!

1 🟢 2 🟢 3

Glass crunches beneath his boots as he makes his way through the abandoned building. It's eerily quiet, just the wind howling through the broken windows and holes in the walls. The occasional rustle when debris or dry leaves move under the breeze. Nature's completely reclaimed this old house that used to be an apartment building with a bunch of tiny shops on the ground floor. Too off the beaten path, the shops became obsolete when a large mall opened only a few blocks away.

He's also in a very bad neighborhood, and nobody seemed to care about this particular building for a long time. Overgrown and broken, glass panes a good target practice for your usual teenage delinquent or bored child, doors ripped off their hinges by age and decay and maybe some random angry dude who needed a place to vent. Furniture long gone, either taken along or stolen later, things that couldn't be moved too easily (like sinks or toilet bowls) smashed into tiny pieces.

Normally he prefers places stuck in time, where tragedy struck and nobody's been back in decades, with faded photos on the walls or on dusty shelves, the smell of slowly rotting armchairs and a hint of mold in the air. Those make the best pictures. Little time capsules, evidence of older times, in the midst of a blooming bustling city. This building, however, looked more promising from the outside.

He raises his camera and takes a shot of a broken window where thick vines of ivy crawl around the frame and up the wall, the light of the setting sun giving the scene a soft glow. He changes the angle a few times, then moves on, up the stairs, looks through open doors into old apartments, mostly empty, walls vandalized with crude, unreadable graffiti, carpets full of dirt and a (not so) healthy layer of mold.

What strikes him as a little unusual is that the hallways look as if used fairly often, leaves and dust bunnies line the sides, but there's a path between the debris, leading further up the building. Not too unusual, these kinds of buildings usually attract a lot of shady people or bored teenagers, some to meet for illegal business deals, other to party hard in a place Mom and Dad cannot find them.

Maybe it's used for all kinds of things as he notices a growing abundance of empty soda cans, broken alcohol bottles and other garbage lying around (the most striking sight was a trail of discarded condoms and empty lube bottles). His destination is the roof, maybe he can at least snap some pictures of the sunset and the city around him from this place, for all he got now are shots of broken windows, nature reclaiming the urban space and your typical down-the-hallway shot. He even found the one-single-chair-in-the-middle-of-an-empty-room motif.

Of course he's not the first urbexer to walk through here, it's been abandoned for a long time, probably old news for the locals, but this is his first time here, in the city too, and he wanted to see as many abandoned things as possible. He heard from others that this house had good bones, meaning stable stairs and floors, no risk of breaking through and landing in the moldy basement with a pipe through your torso. He is looking for adventure, the thrill of being alone in a lost place, inhaling the intoxicating scent of debris and decay, he is not looking to pay a horrendous hospital bill because he's been too careless.

He takes the last section of the winding staircase, stepping onto the upper most floor, the roof access visible at the end of the corridor. There he hesitates. Unlike the floors below him, there's something different here. It's not as dirty, and the most prominent thing: all the doors are intact and closed. It almost looks like an actual floor of a still lived-in apartment building where you would find the same amount of dust and grime on the floors and walls.

Raising his camera, he takes a few shots, cursing when he realizes it's too dark to get it lined up best. The only light source is a badly boarded-up window at the end of the hallway, a tiny skylight above him and the glow creeping up over the staircase from the lower levels. Why is this window boarded up? What's happening up here that nobody wants to have witnesses for? There are other buildings around this one, still functional, mostly, probably for seedy reasons as well, but there's still the chance of people noticing what's going on here.

The closed doors irritate him. Everything else about this building was ripped out and broken and vandalized, nothing left in its former state. He came in through a bent-out-of-shape shutter gate, most of the former shops have so many holes it's fairly easy to get access to the rest of the house. And nobody seems to care about people walking about. There's an old No Trespassing sign near the boarded-up front door, but that's about it.

Though it doesn't surprise him in this kind of neighborhood. He might be new in this city, but he knows a crime haven when he sees one. Everything looks old and run down, shops are only fronts for other businesses, grim looking people stand around, gangs linger in groups in neglected parks or on the curb corners. He also saw some prostitutes walking the streets, looking as worn and shabby as the clothes they were wearing. Most normal people would avoid going deeper into the belly of the beast, but he likes the more dangerous places, and frankly, he fits right in.

Tall and bulky, he could pass as one of those bouncers standing in front of shady clubs, but he looks also young enough to be confused with a fresh gang member or mafia initiate or whatever. At least he thinks so because he's gotten no curious stares as he entered the neighborhood. Though he was glad nobody talked to him, his accent would have given him away for sure.

He feels his heart beating faster when he approaches one of the closed doors, the hairs on his arms rising in anticipation. It's a thrill to find something unusual in a place you've already pushed aside and declared boring. His hand grabs the door handle, twists it... and nothing happens. Locked. A locked door in an abandoned building. How curious. He tries the other ones, the same thing occurs. When he reaches the last door, he almost jumps back when the knob turns and the door opens with a click and then a creepy squeak.

One open room on a floor full of locked doors. His breath quickens, but he forces himself to remain calm. He doesn't even know what he's expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. The room is almost bare (but not as empty as the rooms he's seen before), aged wallpaper peels from the walls, the windows are covered by thick curtains, old and rugged looking, there's a couch in one corner, covered in blankets that have seen better days too. But the most unnerving sight is the bed in the middle of the room.

It's literally in the middle of the room, a sturdy looking metal frame he could walk around if he wanted to. But for now he only stares. There are handcuffs chained to the headboard, ropes tied to the low bed posts. And then there are the stains on the old mattress, lighter and darker ones, some are definitely blood. Old and dried, though one looks a little fresher, on the lower part of the bed. He's mesmerized, disgusted but mesmerized, almost forgets the weight around his neck before a shiver crashes through him.

It's an automated gesture to raise his camera and take pictures of what he sees. Pics or it didn't happen. It's a strange sight, but he isn't sure he wants to share this scene on his official page. He's known for showing off decaying architecture and nature reclaiming its place in the world full of stone and people. To share a potential sex dungeon might not be the way to go. But he still has his side blog. He has to share this, work through the experience, hoping somebody knows something about this.

Though he hasn't even seen everything. Slowly he takes a step into the room. There's a table behind the door, a longer one, fit for a person to lie on, and the leather belts attached to it suggest the same. Fuck. Is this really one of those freaky sex rooms?

He doesn't want to imagine what goes on in here, but he can't completely ignore that he has seen similar settings in various porn clips. Echoes of crying girls crash through his mind, creepily leering men in ski masks standing around the bed, the table, the couch, cocks in hand, others holding paddles, canes, vibrators, ready to torment whoever is unfortunate enough to be strapped to the structures.

He wants to believe there's consent involved, a scene being played out, discussed beforehand, those girls willingly trapped with a bunch of horny men, but sometimes it's hard to imagine that anyone would want to go through that on their own free will. He swallows, only now noticing the stench of the room. Sweat and sex, various bodily fluids all around, with a metallic undertone. Blood.

Shivering he can't help himself, he takes more pictures, walks around the room as if treading on thin ice, careful not to disturb the scene. He's also hyper aware of the noises around him now, the low buzz of the city beyond, voices passing by the building, birds landing on the roof above him, pigeons cooing, crows cawing, seagulls screaming. He tells himself he'd hear if somebody came back to clean up the scene he's witnessing right now. He could flee to the roof, hide it out, maybe find a way down from there.

Goosebumps attack his bare forearms when he rounds the bed and notices a pile of blankets on the floor. But it's the hair poking out of it that makes his heart stop. No. He freezes on the spot, staring down, camera heavy in his hand. He's heard stories of other urban explorers encountering unsettling things, the more harmless one coming into contact with a squatter, either awake or passed out in some corner, and the most disturbing one... stepping onto a crime scene, finding blood, bones... or dead bodies.

Yet instead of panicking, with the urge to run as quickly as he can, he finds himself staring with an obscene fascination. His eyes trail the blanket, noticing how it's wrapped around whatever is curled up inside it, and he bends down a little, crouching beside it, the smell overwhelmingly strong down here. His stomach protests, but his curiosity is too obnoxious to ignore. Shifting his camera into his other hand, he reaches out, carefully, knowing he should probably wear gloves, but he also doesn't care. He has to know.

His fingers grip the edge of the blanket, and he pulls, gently, his eyes widening as the scene unfolds in front of him – together with the body of a girl unfurling from its curled-up position. He will never share his first impression with anyone, because it's primal, an instinct, the thought of a man whose cock has a mind of its own: she's pretty.

Also naked, covered in grime and other substances, pale skin adorned with angry red welts and purple bruises, something pink caked between her thighs. She's on her side, legs scissored open, arms bound behind her back. Her thick dark hair is braided into two pigtails, and one of them seems to be cut off as the hair frays out and lies around her head like a dark halo. Tears and sweat allowed a thick layer of dust and dirt to cake to her face. Eyes closed, long dark lashes clumped, full lips swollen and raw looking, slightly parted.

Before he continues taking in every detail of her, he has the urge to bring his finger to her nose, and the relief when he feels the slightest bit of air movement against his skin lets him exhale loudly as well. She is not dead. And there's the problem. She looks like she should be, like it would be the better fate. The sight scares him as much as it fuels his morbid fascination, which may explain why he's still frozen on the spot, staring at her instead of calling the police or an ambulance or doing anything to help her. He can't take his eyes off her.

Her slender neck is covered in dark bruises as if someone has tried to strangle her, probably thought they succeeded too. Why else would she lie on the floor here? Left behind after whoever assaulted her was done? And assaulted she was. Sexually, physically. The welts on her body look horrible, thin red lines all over her small breasts, her stomach, her hips, her thighs, on her ass as well from what he can tell. She was caned, the poor thing. He hates watching those kinds of porn videos. He can see the appeal of spanking, the hand on ass contact, but hitting someone with a rigid cane doesn't seem very pleasurable, it's only about inflicting pain and having evidence of it days later.

A sadistic move, and sadists were definitely at work here. There are more bruises on her thighs, probably from strong hands holding her down and open while various cocks forced themselves into her holes. He feels his cheeks warming up when he takes a closer look at her pussy. Apart from layers upon layers of what he assumes to be cum and other fluids, there are welts and bruises on there too, on the soft skin of her inner thighs, on her puffy outer lips (that look stretched as if held back and open by clamps or whatever these bastards used), but most are on the strangely swollen clit. Ugh. Genital torture, a genre he really hates. Spanking a woman's clit is just downright sick and barbaric.

The more he looks at her, the worse he feels. Not just for what she had to go through, but knowing he can't really help her. How should he? Call the police and wait for other horny men to find her? He never trusted the cops, and in a neighborhood like this he is certain there won't be a good guy among them. Calling an ambulance may be an option, if he does it anonymously and flees the scene quickly, but that leaves him wondering if anyone ever found her. And again, in an area like this, the people who did this may still be around watching the place, stopping help before it can get anywhere, maybe even finishing the job, killing her.

And if he stays and wait, he will be in danger of those people seeing him, and as he now knows too much, even took pictures of the evidence, what's stopping them from killing him too? And even if they don't find him, he fears the damn hospital bill might be his end. Yes, strange priorities, but his brain is buzzing and he feels sick and nauseous the longer he stays in this horrible room, staring down at the poor girl.

She looks younger than him, maybe a few years, maybe a lot, the pigtails give the illusion she might still be a teenager, but her body looks too developed for that. A thin face with high cheekbones, no baby fat, soft albeit small breasts, a narrow waist, plump hips, thighs just rounded enough to create that amazing thigh gap he likes so much. The initial thought is still there, and his cock agrees, she is beautiful, despite the state she is in.

And maybe that's why he forms an idea in his head: why not take her with him? Away from this place, into safety, then assess what help he can get her. She can't stay here, that's for sure. A better man would face the danger of being discovered by her abusers, to make sure she'll get the care she needs, no matter how expensive and uncomfortable it may get. A better man wouldn't crouch beside her limp body and stare and drool.

But he's not. He's a runaway, dropped out of college to party, then got too old and paranoid to return. Too distracted by the world around him. Traveling on a budget, with just enough money to feed himself once a day, couch surfing, loitering, pissing his life away one day at a time. It's only been during the last years that he's gotten a bit more stable, making a name for himself as a photographer, selling prints and doing commissions, and by coming into this city he's hoped to make it even bigger.

Renting an old loft he hopes to transform into a photo studio one day, he's trying to settle down. He still has barely any money, lives off those stupid strangers willing to pay for his pictures even though they're not even that special. He always hopes for the occasional exceptional find, something he could sell to newspapers, but even those prefer to steal their pictures off other people's Instagram instead of paying for a more professional shot. Tough times.

As he crouches next to the unconscious girl, the hand holding his camera twitches. It's an instinct to raise it, bring it in front of his eyes, look through the finder and press his thumb down to take a picture of her. He feels sick for it, but also... not. She's part of this little sex dungeon, the main attraction, actually, and it's an inborn need to burn her image into a bunch of pixels. Pics or it didn't happen. He considers sharing her story with whatever newspaper may want it, but then his name would be attached to the evidence, he could be linked to this scene, and what's stopping any corrupt cop to call him guilty for this? Or the bad guys to come and erase any kind of evidence? Him and her included?

She can't stay here. He can't keep staring at her. Something has to happen.

Before he puts his camera into his backpack, he can't help but take a few more pictures of her, of her wounds and injuries, of the evidence caked to her skin, the blood trailing down her inner thigh. Maybe justice will come one day, but he'll need pictures of the crime scene to make it happen. He also snaps a few shots of her face, peaceful in slumber, of her soft curves, those tiny feet with the ankles covered in rope burn. Those he does in several angles, maybe he has a future in selling feet pics. And it's not his fault the market exists.

The world is a sick place, and he's just trudging along.

Eventually he stores his camera in his backpack, then moves the blanket back around the girl. His hand finds her cheek, and it's warm to the touch, she's certainly still alive, and probably in pain, so he doesn't want to disturb the few quiet moments this cruel world has given her. He wraps her up and scoops her into his arms, a barely there weight, poor thing looks and feels malnourished on top of being treated so horribly.

Lifting her up, he realizes the light has turned from the soft sunset glow into the harsher, darker tones of the street lamps coming to life. Time to go. Maybe her abusers will return soon. He carries her out of the room, she's warm and soft in his arms, head resting against his shoulder, hair and one half of her face peeking out of the blanket cocoon. She's tiny, in comparison and in general, and knowing her fate he feels even worse for her.

His heart clenches by the time he's descended all those stairs, and when he reaches his point of entry, he hesitates. It's one thing to slip into a building during the day, nobody cares about a man with a camera creeping around old houses much, at least not in this kind of area, but knowing this place is frequently used for terrible little sex adventures, he feels uneasy now. The night is fast approaching, and he knows these kinds of things probably happen when the shadows fall.

Looking around, he decides to find another exit, preferably one leading around the back, and luck is on his side when he finds a broken window looking into a backyard filled with black trash bags. With the girl still in his arms, he climbs through, but slips on something at the last second. Curling his back, trying not to harm her further, he feels his backpack scraping over the rough wall, hoping it didn't damage his camera. It's one of his few prized possessions, but thinking about it, maybe he should reconsider his priorities.

He's carrying a life in his arms, a life he intends to save, so a broken camera, a replaceable thing, really isn't that big of a deal. He can always salvage the SD card inside anyway. No harm done. Rolling his shoulders, he shifts her against his chest, then continues through the dark alley. He's parked the hunk of metal he calls his car a few blocks away, at the edge of the neighborhood, hoping he'll still have all tires when he returns.

And indeed they are all there, as full and dirty as he's left them. The old truck was the last thing he could afford after renting out the loft, so even if he's bound to this city, relying on random strangers to finance his life, he has a means to get away if he has to. For now, he's pulling the passenger door open and carefully puts down the bundle of limbs and hair and blankets, and when he does, she suddenly stirs.

He freezes, staring at her as her eyelids flutter open. A soft groan escapes her, but when her wide eyes, beautiful dark irises, glazed and a little dull, but beautiful nonetheless, meet his, she stiffens too, lips parted, and he expects a scream, a distress call, anything, but she doesn't issue a single peep, just looks at him, almost calm, probably just glad she's still alive or thinking she died and woke up in a weird realm between the worlds where it's normal to wake up in unfamiliar places, facing unfamiliar people.

He still feels the need to calm her. “Hey, it's alright. No need to be afraid, I'm not here to harm you. I want to help you, okay? Do you understand?”

She blinks, her lips trembling, but then she utters a barely audible “Yes, sir”, and he feels his heart jumping a little. To his own shame, his cock does the same. He clears his throat, nods to her, then closes the door with a thud and rounds the car, putting his backpack into the covered truck bed. Her eyes are following him when he slips behind the wheel, despite her slouched position on the seat. She's eerily quiet, not at all concerned about a strange man packing her into his car.

He watches her as he pulls the seat belt over her small frame, then buckles himself in. “You'll be alright,” he says softly, giving her the hint of a smile, and she continues staring at him. She must be in shock, no other way to explain this behavior, probably fighting the pain coursing through her, the soreness and burning, the stickiness between her thighs, the memory of the whole ordeal. He can't blame her. It must have been absolute hell.

He starts the car, glad it does so on the first try, and maneuvers it back into the nightly city traffic until they reach the old warehouse at the edge of it. It's the cheapest he could find, between two concerning neighborhoods, but those are still better than the one he found her in. At least he has running water and electricity, and a bed. Hmm. One bed. He'll give it to her for now, trying to squeeze his big body onto the small couch. It'll work.

She's still only staring at him when he unbuckles her and picks her up, though her breaths are a bit more labored. Maybe the shock is fading, letting through the pain more and more. He hums soothingly to her, tells her it'll be alright, knowing the more he'll repeat that, the more she'll believe it. It's his life motto too, fake it till you make it. She's that pliant body in his arms as he carries her to the old elevator, hoping it'll last another day.

When he reaches his apartment door, he shifts her in his hold, and she winces, a horribly pathetic little sound he hopes never to hear again. “Sorry,” he mutters as he fumbles for his key and unlocks the door. “You'll feel better soon, I promise.”

Her warm breath hits his neck as she presses her face closer against him, a strangely submissive gesture, a naive hope to trust a stranger. He takes her straight to the bathroom, where he sets her on the closed toilet lid and slowly unravels the blanket from around her. She's sitting perfectly still, the only movement coming from her almost curious eyes as she watches his every move. She winces when he brushes against the welts on her skin, chest rising and falling a little faster, but that's about all the motion he gets from her.

When the blanket falls away, she's that naked thing covered in sweat and cum and blood, and it occurs to him what a strange situation this is. For him to just take her away, without informing anyone, authority or not, and for her to just accept it like this. She's awake, maybe a little dazed, but conscious enough that a normal girl would stir more, talk more, fuss and strain against his touches, maybe even try to flee or do anything to ensure her own safety.

But she is just sitting there, arms folded behind her back, watching him. She doesn't seem real. Like a robot. A brainless toy... And it occurs to him, that might just be what she is, what she has been. A body to use, handed around between vulgar men, an object to utilize in their sick fantasies turned reality. Of course he's no stranger to the news, especially the darker ones, those about trafficking and forced sex work, even if those stories barely make it past the usual political drama. It's another one of those morbid fascinations he can't seem to break.

He might just be as sick as those actually partaking in these illegal little sex gatherings, he's watched those videos, even though he's handled them like any other porn he's come across. As fake, a scene played out, a fantasy made as real as movie magic can make it, but to find this girl in this room, discarded and abandoned like a broken doll, left behind after everyone else was done and satisfied in their twisted, primal needs, shows him that those were not scenes, not fake, but brutal reality. It makes him angry.

“Can you stand?” he asks her quietly, tilting his head as he towers over her, and she nods, looking up at him, before straining her bruised body when she tries to move. His hands find her elbows, and she flinches, but lets him pull her onto her feet. “Oh fuck, your arms, I forgot,” he presses out, and quickly leans back to grab a pair of scissors off the counter behind him, then carefully moves around her to cut through the ropes holding her wrists and forearms together. When he's done, he lets her go, and she sways, arms flailing a little, her hands twitching as if she wants to hold onto him. He guides her into the shower, then steps back. She turns around immediately, eyes wide. “Do you need help?”

She bites her swollen lip. “Please,” she croaks, and the hoarse sound of her voice breaks his heart (but also thickens his cock). He nods, swallows hard, trying to fight the strange warmth pooling in his stomach, before he toes off his boots, strips off his hoodie and jeans, then steps behind her in just his boxers. He wants to show her he's not a predator, but he also doesn't want to get his only good pair of jeans wet and dirty. One day he'll be able to afford another one.

He grabs the shower head and turns the knobs on the wall, waiting for the water to heat up. She's shivering, her frail little body so tiny in front of him, one hand rubbing up and down the other arm, a mindless gesture, trying to ease her nerves probably. Her eyes, however, stay on him and his every move, very attentive, almost eager. It should feel a little bit more bizarre to share a shower with a girl he's just met (or rather found), but it's as if he's running on instincts, feeling the need to help her, make her feel better, ease her pain.

The steam fills his nostrils, and when he puts the water jet to her shoulder, she winces, flinches away, lets out a little whine, but ultimately returns under the spray and lets him clean the grime and sweat and other substances off her skin. He's careful not to put too much pressure on her bruises and the welts, and is glad they didn't break her skin, even though they look horrible, shining in a bright red as if the blood is pulsing just beneath her pale skin.

When he lowers the shower head to point it between her thighs, he hesitates, looks at her, but all she does is take a little side step and spreads her legs a bit more to allow him to do so. So fucking obedient, it's almost scary. The grime on her inner thighs is so persistent that he has to move his hand over her skin before he realizes he should probably use a wash cloth. Stepping back, he leans around the open door and grabs a small towel, wets it and then proceeds to rub the dirt (and cum and other things he doesn't want to think more about) off her thighs. She whines quietly when he moves the soft cloth over her folds, and he holds his breath, trying to be as gentle as he can be.

When he touches her clit though, she shudders and gasps, legs trembling, and her hand is on his arm then, holding on tightly, with a strength he wouldn't have expected from her. He watches how her eyes roll back, how her lips part and a little moan escapes her, and he just freezes, wash cloth pressed to her sensitive nub, unintentionally drawing a strange little orgasm out of her. Was she trained to be this sensitive, so responsive? To come on touch alone? He didn't even rub that hard.

He takes the cloth away slowly, and she calms down a little, breathing just a bit harder, but when her eyes meet his, she furrows her brows, bites her lip, mumbles a croaked “Sorry” as she lowers her head. He frowns at that, tilting his head.

“Nothing to apologize for,” he says quietly. “I... uh, didn't mean to do that either...”

Is she one of those poor girls who was bound to their master's (or whatever the man called himself who had her) will, to only do as he told her, to come on command, and to feel bad if she does so without permission? What a horrible fate... He would never ask her to hold her orgasm, he would want to see that reaction over and over again, allowing her all the pleasure she can get. Not that he'll ever want to do anything to her, but... in theory, of course.

He keeps cleaning her then, lets the warm water soak her bruised skin, and she just stands there, chin tilted up, eyes closed, wet hair cascading down her back, hanging over her shoulders, one side shorter than the other (how cruel to take away something from her, even as benign as part of her braid, but it's definitely crueler to treat her like a soulless body, and he's glad she's not missing any fingers or limbs instead).

Considering, her state could be worse. She's standing on her own, breathing just fine, she's probably very sore and aching, but the pain will fade and she could have a normal life after this, more or less, not counting the psychological trauma that seems to still hold her hostage. Well, it's not ideal, and maybe death would have been a relief after the torment, but she's young, she can work through this, it's possible. And maybe he can help her cope...

Looking at her petite frame, he feels his stomach tensing. It's wrong to feel like this, he knows it, he shouldn't even allow the smallest little thought into that direction, but he is just a man after all, standing with a naked young woman in his shower, and it's blatantly obvious what his cock thinks about this whole situation. He hopes she doesn't notice the tent in his boxers.

But he shouldn't worry, she doesn't seem to notice much, standing still under the spray of the water, and when he turns it off eventually, deeming her clean enough, she inhales deeply and opens her eyes, blinking away stray water drops. She remains immobile, and while he turns to grab a towel, she doesn't move an inch. When he starts drying her off, rougher than he intends, but his hands feel like they are shaking from the tension growing inside him, she winces a couple of times, but then presses her lips together and endures.

He's watching her like a hawk, apologizes for accidentally hurting her, tries to be as gentle as possible, and her eyes are glued to his face, not completely focused yet, still glazed and hazy, pupils blown for some reason, her gaze almost curious. What a strange little creature. He'd expected a victim of whatever type of rape she's experienced to be more... hysterical?

When he finally wraps the towel around her small body and another one around her damp hair, she seems to relax even more. Then she opens her mouth.

“Thank you, sir,” she whispers, looking up at him before bowing her head.

He stares at her, blinking in confusion. “Uh, you're welcome,” he says. “But, uh, you can call me Sam, okay? I'm Sam. No need for... honorifics or whatever, you know?”

There's a frown on her face when she looks back up, her lips moving as if she's repeating his name in her mind.

“What's your name?” he then asks, leaning against the sink as he watches her.

The frown deepens, her eyes moving away from him, flickering here and there as if she tries to find the answer somewhere in his bathroom. “I...” she starts, eyebrows furrowed before she exhales deeply, her shoulders sagging. “It doesn't matter,” she then replies.

“Huh?” he makes, staring at her. “What do you mean it doesn't matter? I'm sure you have a name. Did you forget?” He kicks himself mentally for assuming as much and for his harsh tone, but it's ridiculous.

She shakes her head, not to say no, but to clear her mind maybe? It's a frantic gesture. “It doesn't matter. I don't matter. I am... I am yours to... to use,” she mutters under her breath, hands clenching into fists at her sides.

“What now?” He gapes at her.

And then she is suddenly on her knees in front of him, the towel falling away, her small body folded with her hands lying neatly on her lap, her chin tilted up, looking at him with big eyes. “Please use me,” she says quietly.

He takes a step back, bumping into the cupboard next to the sink, staring down at the girl. Is she serious? He shakes his head, then walks back and grabs her elbows. “Come on, get up, no need to kneel before me, okay? Get up!”

His harsher, also slightly agitated tone makes her wince, but she's on her feet immediately, letting him pull her up, then stands stock-still before him, head lowered, a soft little whine escaping her. “I'm sorry...”

“Stop apologizing!” He lets go of her and runs a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. “I mean, ugh, wow. I'm sorry, too. You must be... well, you've been through so much, I don't mean to scare you or anything, I just...”

“Please,” she mumbles, breathing a little harder. She's shivering without the towel, the one on her head coming undone as well the more she shimmies on the spot. He stares at her, she has her hands clasped in front of her sex and squeezes her thighs together, small breasts squished, nipples erect, a deep blush almost hiding the red welts on her skin. “Please use me,” she then says again.

“No!” he blurts out, and she flinches, another sob escaping her. He groans. “I mean, come on! I will not just use you, I just met you, I found you! In that freaky sex room after you've been...” He stops when he suddenly meets her gaze. Her pupils are fully dilated, her already dark eyes shining entirely black. “You're in no condition to do anything but relax now, okay? Take it easy. Come on, I'll show you the bed.”

He's about to grab her hand when she turns her shoulder, avoiding his touch. He freezes, frowns. “In... no condition? Am I... not good... anymore?” Her voice is that feeble little hum, a desperate song sending shivers down his spine.

“What? No! You are good, you are perfect, you are so beautiful!” he croaks out, unable to stop the words. She tilts her head, blinking. “I mean, yeah, uh, you are, but that's not what I mean. You are... Look, whoever treated you like this, whoever hurt you, just left you there. And I couldn't not take you, you know? I want to help you, do you understand that? I want you to feel good again after –”

“Then use me,” she whispers, breathing harder, hands falling away from the obedient pose as she rubs them up and down her thighs, still squirming on the spot. “Please, it hurts...”

“Of course it hurts, they hit you with a fucking cane! They raped you!” he shouts, a little too loud, his emotions getting the better of him.

She flinches back, gasping with her lips parting, her eyes wide. “No... no, they were... they had to punish me because I... I was bad... I deserved it... and they... they used me like they should use me...”

Her words are mumbled, but he can still hear them, even though he wishes he couldn't. What a sick way of seeing things. What a fucked-up world where a pretty girl like her has these thoughts planted into her head.

Anger makes him clench his hands into fists. “They shouldn't have done that. You are a human being, a young woman, a beautiful girl, not a doll to play with, not a toy to use!”

She stares at him, eyelids fluttering, chest rising and falling faster, small breasts bouncing. Really not the time to notice that, mate!

“But,” she whispers, wincing slightly as she starts chewing on her lips. “But that... that's my purpose... I am... I am yours to use,” she repeats these last five words like something she had to learn without knowing the meaning behind it.

He approaches her slowly, carefully, his big hands find her small shoulders, and the touch makes her look up at him. “You are your own person. You have a name, even if you can't remember it right now, you had a mother and a father, maybe even siblings. You went to school, you had a job, maybe. You had dreams, everyone has dreams, for the future, things you wanted to have, places you wanted to see. You are not just a body for strange men to use. Not like that. Not without consent! You were not made to be punished, to be hurt because some random sicko gets off on it. Your body is so much more than just... holes to fill... and a canvas to soil with bruises and welts and... cum...”

His voice has become calmer, like a mantra, new thoughts to plant into her muddled brain, so he hopes, and she listens with her lips parted, eyes directly looking at him. Sometimes she frowns, sometimes she blinks, and when he finishes she licks her lips.

“But I want this,” she says quietly. “I want to be used...”

He sighs deeply and lowers his head, then shakes it in frustration. “No, somebody told you you should think like that! Nobody in their right mind wants to be raped and mutilated like that!”

A single sob makes him look up, and he lets go of her, straightening up. Her lips are trembling and her eyes watering before tears stream down her face. He lets out a groan.

“I'm sorry,” he grunts. “I didn't mean it like that! You are valid, whatever you want, of course, but... but you gotta agree it's a little strange?” She only cries harder, her small frame shaking. “Okay, look, no kink shaming or whatever, I just... I assumed, the way you were lying in that room, the state you were in, I thought you needed help! You looked horrible! I was about to call the police!”

She freezes at that, staring up at him. “No,” she gasps. “Don't do that! Please! I... I don't want any trouble... I... I'll do anything, but... please... not the police!”

He raises an eyebrow at that. This reaction surprises him. “Why not?” he asks, crossing his arms in front of his chest. She averts her eyes, breathing harder. He isn't very fond of them either, but why wouldn't she? Why would she prefer being gang raped and beaten and strangled over calling for help?

She presses her lips together, doesn't say a thing. For a moment they are both silent, standing in the bathroom, the naked girl and the guy with his tented boxers. Even now his cock doesn't agree with him. But he doesn't care about it anymore. This is a mystery he wants to unravel.

“Tell me,” he says, tone harsher, pointedly. She seems to reply better to commands.

And it seems to work. “He said he'd kill me if I talked to them,” comes her quiet answer, spoken to the tiled floor.

“He? He who?” he asks, his arms falling to his sides.

“Sir,” she replies, her shoulders shaking.

“Sir? Who calls himself Sir? Who is that? The man who did this to you?”

She shakes her head. “No. He... he found me, he took me in, and then... he... he sent me away because I was... a bad girl and he... he... they...” A series of sobs escapes her before her hands fly up to cover her face. Her cries pierce his heart. “Why did he send me away? What did I do?” she wails softly, muffled from behind her hands. “I was a good girl... always a good girl... did everything he said...”

He can't watch it anymore. While his rage for this unknown man grips his insides, he steps forward and pulls her against him, arms wrapped around her shuddering form, but she keeps crying, lets it all out, desperate and heartbreaking. He scoops her up and carries her to the bedroom, her tears hot on his skin, her whines loud in his ears.

Putting her down carefully, he pulls the blanket over her naked body and tucks her in, gently rubbing her side as she curls in on herself, continuing to cry miserably.

“Please stop crying,” he whispers, sitting down on the edge of the bed, hand still on her hip. “I'm sorry he treated you like that. But he let you go, you said so, so why don't you use that as a chance to move on, look ahead, find a new Sir? Or live your life without any man for a while? I'm sure that's nice too...”

She stares at him from under her clumped lashes, momentarily paused in her sobbing, only to cry out again when he suggests moving on. He sighs, letting her wail and whine until hiccups shake her form. She's not calming down, but she gets quieter, and he stands up then, walking down the stairs into the kitchen to get some water and a snack. When he returns, she's lying on her side, staring blankly ahead, eyes reddened, face flushed and wet, but she's stopped crying for the moment.

He sits back down on the edge and holds the water glass to her face. “Come on, drink something. Please.” She doesn't even look at him. He exhales loudly and puts the glass on the bedside table. “Fine. Well, it's there if you want it. I also brought some crackers, maybe you're hungry. I can get more later. Or just sleep, you definitely need that. Rest, get better, and tomorrow we'll figure something out, okay?”

She doesn't give a reply, and he shakes his head and leaves again, settling on the lumpy couch under the stairs, his eyes drifting back up to the loft area every now and then. He falls asleep thinking it was probably a bad idea taking this girl with him. For his sake. What if she is so sick in the head she'll stand over him with a knife in the middle of the night? Great thought to slumber over, really.

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End notes: *And this was the plot part of our story, stay tuned for the sex frenzy to begin in the next chapter!

There will be three chapters in total, I'll upload every Wednesday.

Thank you for joining me on another little original story I needed to get out of my system.

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

[baby-yongbok]

Sunset

Bang Chan x Thick Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut, non idol

✨Masterlist ✨

Warnings: Unprotected sex (Wrap it up, guys), Cheating (Married reader/ Chan is dating someone) , Strangers to One night lovers, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Oral sex (M receiving) Slightly rough, Uh.. that’s it really? It’s just Smut, Sorry if I missed any tags. Explicit content so MDNI please.

Word Count: 2677

Note: First Person POV + This was something that I just whipped up real quick and wanted to share. It’s short compared to what I usually like to write but I thought you’d enjoy it! Just a quick smutty Chan fic to entertain ya.

Summary: The Sunset diner is your go to place to retreat, it allows you to meet new people while immersing yourself in the arts. It’s become your routine to relax at the diner every night and seek some...company. One night a new customer arrives and you just cant seem to keep your eyes off of him. You have to have him.

The Sunset studio and diner has always been a safe haven for me, ever since I was thirteen years old my step dad would bring me here and buy me a hot chocolate and two cookies before letting me roam around the studio and stare at the artwork in awe. It bought him enough time to smash whatever girl he picked up along the way in the bathroom then come back and act like he was never gone. I never cared, I was too fascinated with the artwork and the soft melodies of the guitars that the customers brought from home, or the grand piano by the entrance being played by whoever thought they were good enough to have the entire studio hear them. I was always amazed by those people, by their confidence, it was different from the kind that I possessed and I enjoyed being in its presence. No one has dared to play the piano in months though, not in my visits to the diner. 

"Thank you, Lali." I nod my head to the waitress that serves me almost every night and she smiles back as always.

I continue my watercolor painting enjoying the ambient sounds of guitars and what I’m pretty sure is a ukulele when suddenly I hear it. My head snaps up and my eyes land on the brown haired man focusing on the keys of the grand piano. Others in the diner still their movements as they stare, those who are sitting around me stop talking and listen to the melody that he's producing. He continues to play a song that I've never heard before, an original maybe? The beauty in the notes that he's playing makes me close my eyes as the music builds me up to a feeling of bliss that I haven’t felt in what feels like forever. 

As the piece picks up speed I start to wonder about its purpose. Is it an ode to tragedy or love? They are both one in the same in the end but I'd love to pick his brain. Suddenly the melody comes to a halt before he lightly strokes the last three keys. The sound of the last key drags out beautifully and applause erupts quickly after. The young man's head jolts upward and a small dimpled grin plays upon his lips before he stands and playfully bows before the studio. As the studio calms down I watch him carefully as he picks up his bag and makes his way to the counter to order a drink. I can’t help myself as I find myself ear hustling. 

"That was beautiful." One of the employees that I don't know that well raves. 

"Thank you, I appreciate it." His response is dry, he's uninterested. 

"Chan?" Lali calls from the pick up counter and I glance back to watch him pick up his drink. He smiles warmly at Lali but he's still uninterested, what is he interested in? He scans the studio searching for a spot to sit and I quickly continue painting. He makes his way past my booth and I decide to go in for the kill. 

"Excuse me." He turns around to me and his eyes soften once they land on mine, why's he so tense?

"May I ask what you got to drink? It looks divine." The same small grin as before plays upon his lips as he turns completely to me.

"An iced black tea with mint and cream." 

"Oh, wow that sounds as divine as it looks, thank you." His eyes stay on mine as I offer him a smile and for the first time since he's stood from the piano he seems interested.

"It's my pleasure, I can't help but notice your painting. It's beautiful, truly stunning." Tapping the end of my paint brush against the table I shrug at him. 

"It's alright, I'm experimenting with watercolor tonight. Would you like to have a seat?" I wave my hand towards the seat across from me and he kindly accepts. Sliding into the booth I get a swift whiff of his scent, a musk of some sort, Egyptian? Himalayan maybe.

"I'm not much of an artist, the world of paint intimidates me." He chuckles and I bring my hand up to rest my chin in the palm. 

"Funny, you don't seem like the type to be intimidated by much." His eyebrow raises at my response as he lets it linger, he clearly doesn't plan to ask what I mean. He's waiting for me to elaborate, but I'm not the type to volunteer information and he doesn't seem like the type to ask about it. 

"Do you come here often?" He asks disregarding my previous comment, I can't help but chuckle. 

"Every other week since I was thirteen, I upgraded to every day at 9pm a year ago." He shakes his head and sips his drink.

"I'm passing through this town, thought I'd look for a place to relax and stop driving for a while." 

"You made a wonderful choice stopping here, especially since you seem to be a fellow creative. That was a beautiful piece you played earlier." He nods and offers a quiet thank you. "Have you always played? Or have you just recently learned how to move your fingers like that?" 

There his eyebrow goes again, raised and displaying his curiosity. "I've always played." 

"Oh, how wonderful you must have such a careful way of doing things then. I've always found that those who play the piano are drawn towards the more intricate things in life." 

We stare at each other for a few seconds, both grinning and scanning each other. He breaks our gaze, sitting up straighter he pushes his drink over to me.

"Have a taste." His eyes meet mine again and this time I challenge his gaze, holding it as I wrap my lips around the straw and suck up the tasty liquid. "Don't be greedy, now." 

A small moan escapes me at the sound of his warning. Releasing the straw from my lips I grin at him. "Delicious, the mint is a really nice touch." 

"Would you like for me to get you one?" 

"No thank you, I like yours." The chuckle that falls from his lips stirs something up in me that I haven't felt in a while. He's flipping a switch that no one has been able to in a while and I am loving it. 

"What do you do for a living?" Eyebrows furrowed and both elbows on the table he awaits my answer. 

"I'm an art professor." There goes that eyebrow raise. 

"Professor? Excuse me for my rudeness but my curiosity is getting the best of me. May I ask your age?" 

"You may." He's visibly amused by my answer. He's clearly a bit younger than me. He's easy to get to but not too easy. 

"Twenty-five and yourself?" 

"Twenty-three" I knew it, experienced but not too much. "Too young for you?"

"Not at all, you'll be fun to seduce." There go those damn eyebrows, I wonder if he knows he's doing that at this point. I'm not mad at it, it's just interesting. 

"Seduce, huh?" 

"Mhm, I'm already turning you on." He leans forward in his seat and folds his arms. 

"How so?" 

" You like that I'm not easy to read, you're also into the fact that we both dabble in the arts of some sort. You're impressed by my age and my beauty, and you've been keeping consistent eye contact with me. Not to mention your manspreading which when across from an attractive female is an invitation to make an advance." He leans back against the booth, arms still crossed. 

"Are you sure you don't teach psychology?" Smiling in his direction I nod before checking the time. 

"Drive me home?" Checking his watch he keeps his eyes on me as I pack my art supplies.

"Is 11:15pm your cut off time here?" Grabbing his bag and finishing his drink he slides over to the end of the seat. 

"Not usually, but I have to get to the next step in seducing you." Laughing, he stands and grabs my bag for me. 

"I should've probably told you this before but I'm actually driving down to see my girlfriend." Shrugging my shoulders I pass him.

"And I'm married, your point?" Making my way through the doors of the studio I close my eyes briefly as the night air brushes my skin, the beginning of fall is always so relaxing. 

"This way." Brushing his hand along the small of my back he starts walking towards his black Mercedes Benz G-Class. I guess he's not bothered by my relationship status, I'm glad we're on the same page. "After you." Opening the door for me and placing my bag at my feet he closes it after me and I quickly do a breath and pit check before he gets to the driver's side. Once he's inside he asks where I live and I say nothing, looking over at me I meet his gaze and smile at him. 

"I never got your name.” he relaxes into his seat 

"Chan, and yours" I don't plan on answering him, it's actually best if I don't. His breath hitches in his throat as I begin to palm him through his jeans. 

"I like to think about how you'll recall this memory over the next couple of months." Getting on my knees in the passenger seat I leaned over to unbuckle his belt. "How you'll recall the blissful feeling of my mouth on you, the nameless woman you met at the studio." 

Unzipping his pants teasingly slow, neither of us break our continuous gaze. "How I'm so much better than the girl you're going to visit, sexier, more spontaneous. Has she ever sucked you off in your car?" He shakes his head revealing the obvious answer.

"I didn't think so." My mouth sinks down his shaft and he draws in a deep breath. His hand tangles into my hair and the other grips the steering wheel. He clearly hasn't received oral in awhile, I'd be surprised if he lasts longer than three minutes. 

"Oh my fucking god" He rests his head against the headrest and his grip on my hair gets tighter as I work his shaft, my tongue playing with the underside of his dick where his head and shaft meet, my favorite part of any man's cock. "You're pretty fucking good at that, baby." 

Humming in response I take his length deeper down my throat swallowing around him. I think that today I'll try not to use my hands, I'd like to make him finish strictly with my mouth. "Shit, babe let me kiss you." 

Humming in response I continue to work my head up and down his dick. "I said let me fucking kiss you." Pulling my head up off of him he holds my chin in place as his lips aggressively meet mine. Moaning into him I part my lips allowing his tongue to explore the depths of my mouth as he pleases. His hand explores my body, fondling my breast and Tracing the dips of my curvy figure. 

"You're a fucking slut aren't you?" Moaning at the sound of his husky voice I nod. "Finish a sluts job then." Pushing my head back down to his cock I open my mouth taking his member back down my throat. Groans and moans fall from our mouths as I sucked him, the anticipation of his sticky cum coating my throat excites me. 

"Just like that, give me all of that pretty mouth." His cock twitches in my mouth and I start to slow down eliciting a frustrated groan from Chan as well as a slap on the ass. "Don't you tease me, slut." 

Smiling slightly I pick up the pace finding my rhythm, it's not long before he explodes in my mouth gifting me with the taste of him. Swallowing every last drop I sit up and start preparing to make my escape when he grabs my wrist and ushers me over into his lap. Leaning back into the steering wheel I accidentally honk the car horn with my backside and we both chuckle after the surprise and panic subside. Adjusting his seat so that it's further away from the steering wheel and slightly leaned back I adjust myself so that I'm comfortable before crashing my lips to his. Grinding into him my skirt rides up revealing my bare ass and his hand wastes no time gripping a handful and landing a firm smack on either cheek eliciting a deep moan from me. Before I realize it his length slips inside of me filling me up and reaching every spot that I need him to. 

"Fuck, oh my god." Moans uncontrollably spill as he thrusts up into me. 

"What about you, huh? Are you going to think about the guy you met at the studio? How he seduced you just as effectively as you did him." Picking up his speed he finds a rhythm that is bound to make me cum early. " How he made you cum so quickly that you can't fathom what a night with him would be like." Just as those words leave his mouth my orgasm washes over me in a wave stronger than any man has ever caused before. 

"Or how about the way he kept you coming over and over again." One of his hands snaked down to my pussy and started aggressively rubbing my currently sensitive clit. The other hand lifted my shirt to reveal my bare chest, lifting his knee a bit and pushing me forward. He sucks one of my nipples into his mouth as he readjusts his other hand to replace his length with two fingers, as his thumb finds and rubs my clit. Bouncing with the rhythm of his fingers I end up riding his digits as my second orgasm crashes into me. 

"Chan" All I manage to moan out is his name, the only thing I can remember at this point is his name and maybe how to breathe but even that seems to be failing me at the moment. I climax for a third time and he releases my nipple from his mouth. 

"You look so pretty while you ride my fingers, go ahead and come for me again, kitten." I can't help but to completely let loose at the sound of him as my final orgasm rips through my body. I become limp on top of him and he slowly removes his fingers from me and slips them into his mouth. "Just as sweet as I thought you'd be." 

Littering kisses up my neck and cheek he lifts me up a bit to meet his gaze. "You better clean yourself up, I'd hate for your husband to start a fight with you and ruin your night." Smiling over at him I sit up and pull down my shirt. Then climb back over into the passenger seat and pull down my skirt. Chan fixes the driver's side chair and I wipe my mouth with my forearm, my formerly messy hair is still messy so that's not a problem at all. Suddenly Chan grabs the back of my neck, ushering my face towards his and our lips meet In a heated kiss. I let his lips linger and dance with mine for a while before pulling away.

"Thank you for seducing me." He smiles teasingly as I laugh.

"It was my pleasure." Bending down and grabbing my bag I open the passenger door. 

"Where are you -" 

"My husband picks me up from here at 12:10am every night." Smiling over at him I almost close the door completely before opening it again. He looks at me hopefully with those damn eyebrows raised and his small grin painted upon his lips, I felt a wave of heat wash over me and I couldnt help what I said next. "Y/n."

"Y/n, thank you." Smiling, I look down at my feet before closing the car door and turning on my heels heading back inside of the studio. Walking up to the counter I smile at Lali as she asks what I'd like. 

"A large iced black tea with mint and cream, please."

[munsonsduchess]

Monster Smash

summary: you meet eddie at a house party and the night takes an unexpected turn warnings: underage drinking, recreational drug use (weed), face sitting, oral (f receiving), semi public sex (eddie and the reader are in a room at a frat house during a party) w/c: 977 a/n: surprise bitch! another halloween fic! honestly with the amount of ghostface content on tiktok these days it was kind of inevitable we'd end up here, i was originally just going to post the other halloween fic but this one wouldn't leave me alone

It was Halloween and you were having the worst time. You didn’t know anyone at this party your roommate had dragged you to, citing that you needed to get out more, the drinks were shit, the music was shit, honestly you were tempted to just sneak out the back door of this frat house and claim you’d met somebody if your roommate asked the next day. 

You sighed and took another drink from your lukewarm beer and pulled at the hem of the black dress you were wearing. Usually you didn’t feel self conscious in the things you picked for yourself but being, less petite, than some of your peers and wearing something your roommate had picked out so you could both wear matching costumes (you got to be the bad witch) in a room full of obnoxious frat bros made you feel slightly … less confident than normal. 

You were about to cut and run when a guy appeared in front of you wearing a Ghostface Costume,

“What’s your favourite scary movie?”

“The Exorcist, 1973. A masterpiece in horror cinema” you responded without thinking. You hadn’t actually expected anyone to talk to you, after being basically ignored all night

“That’s, yeah that’s a really good pick” the guy pulled his mask off and you found yourself looking into the face of the local weed guy, Eddie Munson. 

Everyone you knew, yourself included, bought their weed from Eddie. His stuff was guaranteed to be the best and not laced with anything it shouldn’t be,

“It’s the line from the homeless guy in the subway ‘can you help an old altar boy father’ and then later on when they’re in Regan’s bedroom and she says the same thing in the same voice. Chills. Literal chills” 

“Such a good movie. They don’t make movies like that anymore, y’know? Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Rosemary’s Baby” 

“Have you seen X? Or Pearl? They have the same kinda vibes but are totally modern movies” 

“I’ve seen X. Massive Texas Chainsaw vibes” 

“Right!” 

You ended up finding a quiet corner with Eddie where the two of you could talk about horror movies for the rest of the evening. You’d honestly never really found anyone who loved horror the way you did so it was amazing to be able to vibe with someone like this. 

⊱ ────── {.⋅ 👻 ⋅.} ───── ⊰

The party raged on into the wee hours and by now both you and Eddie were feeling the effects of the beer and few joints you’d shared. You were feeling pleasantly buzzed and enjoying the attention of an attractive man, even if it wouldn’t go anywhere. 

“It’s so cool that you’re into horror, most people get freaked out or maybe enjoy those like conjuring movies”

“Ugh. The Warrens are the absolute worst, by all accounts they just scam people and then use their stories to write books and make more money” you gestured widely around the room, “how fucked is that?”

“Totally fucked” Eddie agreed 

“You know I almost didn’t come tonight but my roommate kinda forced me to” 

“Remind me to send your roommate a fruit basket or something as thanks then” Eddie said, “cause this is definitely a way better night than I thought it was gonna be”

“It’s so cool to meet a friend tonight” you agreed, “but aren’t you like ‘working’ the party?” 

Eddie laughed and you had to admit you loved the sound. You wondered if he would want to still be friends after the party was over,

“You’re cute. I mean sure it’s great talking like this but honestly, I saw you standing on your own and seriously couldn’t understand why cause just the sight of you in that dress had all the blood in my body run south. I mean, the fact that you’re awesome on top of being drop dead hot is a bonus”

Your brain short circuited for a moment and you couldn’t quite believe what you were hearing,

“So, you wanna get a room?” 

“Absolutely I do”

Eddie smirked wickedly at you before helping you off the couch and pulling you behind him to the main staircase and along a corridor to an empty room. 

⊱ ────── {.⋅ 👻 ⋅.} ───── ⊰

“Sit on my face, come on” Eddie grinned at you, taking one of your hands and pulling you towards the bed. 

You followed the tug and threw one leg over the bed and balanced on your knees. Before you could even try to think about how much weight to bear down you felt Eddie grab your hips and pull you down onto his face forcefully. 

There was no way you could focus on anything but the way Eddie licked into you hungrily. His hands on your hips dug into the flesh there and you threw your head back with the intense feelings, moaning loudly. 

“Oh my god Eddie”

Beneath you Eddie made a muffled noise which you assumed was positive since he didn’t stop what he was doing for even a moment. 

You wondered briefly how he could breathe but the thought left your mind as quickly as it had arrived when Eddie’s nose brushed against your clit and you saw stars. 

Eddie continued to suck and lick you through your orgasm and the aftershocks, the oversensitivity made you want to pull away but Eddie held you firm coaxing yet another orgasm from you until your legs began to shake. Only then did he allow you to pull away and catch your breath,

“Holy shit” you panted, trying to regain some of your self control,

“That’s only the warm up act baby. It’s just you and me and no one is gonna hear you when you scream my name as loud as you want to” 

This was definitely a way better night than you’d thought it would be when your roommate forced you out tonight. 

After all what was Halloween without a few screams?

[the-s1lly-corner]

Drawing each other (CRPs 2/2)

I'm probably going to have beaten the game by the time this posts but guys I need leshy follower you dont understand he looks so crinkly (referring to cult of the lamb) this part was originally going to have bloody painter and puppeteer but uhuh... too many characters for me and the need to keep playing COTL is smashing my desire to write

Characters: jeff the killer, nina the killer, laughing jack, eyeless Jack, ben Drowned,

Notes: reader is GN, admin does a coin toss on whether or not the reader is an artist, ben is strictly platonic the others can be seen as any relationship

CWs: none

JEFF THE KILLER

cannot draw for shit, when he passes his drawing of you to you it looks like a total mess- there was some effort though so you do your best to not laugh

though he seems to be a mostly good sport about it as long as youre not actually maliciously bashing his art

a little jealous that youre an artist and thus your piece turned out better than his but it soon shifts into him thinking over things hes good at to make himself feel better

in a "well you cant do (x) but i can so haha" kind of way

will get legitimately offended if you jokingly add something like stink lines on your drawing of him

NINA THE KILLER

draws a lot and adds a lot to her drawings: vibrant colors, stickers, glitter, patterned tapes- anything she can get her hands on really! obligatory her art resembles the old scene and emo art styles from back in the day

she doesnt care if your art of her isnt the best, shes going to love it either way and will keep it on her at all times

hypes you up and compliments the parts of your art she likes- whether it be coloring, anatomy, or general vibe shes going to find something to say in order to uplift you

generally enjoys spending any time with you so shes instantly going to take you up on the offer of drawing each other whenever you bring up the idea- or just drawing anything together

or doing anything together

LAUGHING JACK

cannot draw but does not care one bit, just as long as hes having fun

may or may not purposefully make his drawing of you look as diabolical as possible, you can tell hes up to something thanks to his hushed giggling- of course he doesnt draw anything offensive or hurtful

if youre aware youre not the best artist and often poke fun at it, you both end up just making fun of each others pieces

which sometimes turns into the both of you scribbling on your own pieces to add some exaggerated detail in order to push the joke further

EYELESS JACK

he sometimes draws in order to pass the time when he has nothing to do, sometimes you give him new art supplies when hes running low and you can afford it

or sometimes you just share, since you have your own

drawing him was... easy... given hes more than likely wearing his mask the whole time so you put in effort to add some details

jack on the other hand takes his time to get it down right

leads into you asking him how he can see given his obvious lack of eyes, which makes the atmosphere feel a little off but thats... another idea for another day..

gives genuine and sincere compliments when looking at your work, takes his time like he did when he drew you, in order to take it in

BEN DROWNED

i like to think he used to draw before he drowned and died, usually drawing stuff that matched his interests. the same thing over and over

though i can see him getting a little rusty due to not having the chance or means to draw... you can see him getting visibly upset while hes trying to finish his piece of you

youre not an artist yourself, so your drawing of him isnt the best either and it does make him feel a little better

"oh wow these are both shit" and youre both just giggling over your drawings of each other

its over if one of you gave the other too big of a forehead

[wwaheoh]

"The Dangers of Hollow Work", Cunning Hares x gnReader (Platonic), SFW, Angst no Comfort

c/w: contains mentions of blood, death, injury, and body mutation.

a/n: in chapter 2, sorry if it's ooc. fun game, even if it is a bit mindless. i like the animation a lot, can't wait for further updates and for more fics for it!!

To be trapped in a Hollow without a proxy was a death sentence. Depending on one’s aptitude, it would be a quick transformation after half an hour or so, or would be a slow, painful change. Your body would mutate, cells being created at an accelerated rate as the environment forced your body to change into something inhuman. New appendages, body parts being ripped apart as it struggled to keep up. Your psyche only knowing pain, for hours, before finally setting into a new shape, your DNA having been broken and reshaped.

Only pain and destruction filled your mind, mindless, memories of what you once were and those you knew washed away like a sandcastle on the beach.

-

The Cunning Hares were no stranger to traversing the Hollows, oftentimes enlisting the help of the legendary Phaethon. This time their leader, Nicole, had accepted a lower paying commission. One that seemed simple, quick in and out, so they skimped on the premium and gone with a cheaper proxy. Something perfect for you, still easing into working with them. A mistake that would cost them dearly.

It started off normally, following a Bangboo through the formerly human-inhabited city. It was more rudimentary than the premium one Phaethon used, without the syncing and high-tech they had, it couldn’t do the same as theirs could. As they delved deeper, the proxy reported a nearby disturbance, their tech couldn’t identify that it was a monster magnitudes higher than what they were being paid to fight.

They learned the hard way, with only a moment of notice before the monster sprang out, a head split open, revealing a mass of unstable energy. Green splitting their charcoal body. It was monstrous, forearms the size of entire car. It crashed through a wall, as if on a mission to kill them, and only them.

-

“Nicole! The proxy’s trying to tell us something!” Billy the Kid, an sentient AI, spoke out, kneeling as the Bangboo held out text, encrypted in case anyone apart from them got hold of this information. Nicole, the leader of the Cunning Hares, made her way over, a sense of unease as they continued along their mission. “It says…” She read the small text that was displayed on the Bangboo’s eyes.

“Something’s coming!” Anby spoke, rushing with blinding speed from her spot guarding the group to parrying a monster that smashed through the wall. It was a monster too strong for them to handle right now- or at least until they were being paid to.

“Fall back! We’ll do this commision later!” Nicole shouted, swinging her suitcase forward as she shot out a ball of energy, erupting as it began to pull the monster and anything nearby to its epicenter. “It won’t hold it for long, let’s go!”

You, Nicole, Billy, and Anby ran out, picking up the Bangboo and having it direct the group on the go. There were monsters on the way out, having to slow down every once in a while to combat them before making a break for it. “We better get a bonus for this!” Nicole shouted as the telltale screech of the monster echoed through the city.

Finally after seemingly forever, the Cunning Hares had reached the exit, a swirly mess of blue and purple, with a white bubbly outline was their way out of this mess.

“Trial by fire eh!” Billy joked, slowing down to your pace, his long legs easily making him the fastest out of the group. He helped keep you calm, someone who could make the best out of unfortunate circumstances.

“C’mon guys! Only a bit further left.” Nicole directed, someone emotionally sturdy, who had been the first of the group to meet you. Originally you’d been friends outside of this whole Hollows business, until the two of you learned that you’d shared this “hobby” together. She’d invited you to join the Cunning Hares, happy for one friend to meet her other friends.

The portal out got closer as they moved, yet the stomping of the monsters got arrived first. It landed from the air, with Billy saving you from being squashed by the several ton monster. He tossed you to Nicole, having her help right yourself as he unloaded bullets onto the monster. It didn’t do much but helped distract the monster for Anby to rush in.

“Say hello to my little friend.” She spoke in her monotone voice, seemingly to herself, as she unsheathed her blade and rocketed forward, slashing at the monster, sparks flying as electricity flowed through her blade.

Quickly they moved, hurrying to the exit as the monster was riddled with electricity coursing through their body, locking their joints and nerves, immobilizing them.

It seemed to be smooth sailing from there, with the adrenaline that had been coursing through your veins seemingly evaporating in seconds. A mistake, as you were not out of the woodworks just yet. A stray piece of debris on the ground made you trip, with a small yelp as you slipped onto the ground.

The monster recovered from their stun, now more ferocious than ever, they charged. Nicole and the others hadn’t seen you fall, caught up in keeping the monster busy and keeping the Bangboo safe. Once they had reached the portal and turned back to the monster, they’d seen you on the ground.

It was a shock, with Nicole nearly rushing forward to help you before being stopped by Anby. “The monster is too strong for us. It should’ve been incapacitated for 72.3% longer. We need to come back again.” “But we have to save them!” “We will all die if we do. We can come back, with Phaethon to aid us.” Nicole couldn’t bring herself to agree to what Anby was saying, it would basically be agreeing to abandon one of their own, even if for seemingly a short while. But she stopped protesting, letting herself be dragged out. Once she got to the outside world, she made a break for the video store, in search for the legendary Proxy’s help.

-

You lasted for half an hour against the monster. Running and dodging, clashing for a minute before making a break for it when you could. You knew the Cunning Hares would be back, but this was an enemy unlike anything they’d come up against previously, the only monster akin to them would’ve been the Dead End Butcher.

The monster had caught up, pulverizing your ribs with a single hit and leaving you concussed, falling down several floors. Your vision was blurry, the world felt like it was spinning. Pain, unbearable. Unable to move without the chance of nicking an artery or damaging an internal organ. Nothing to say of your spine having been shattered as you hit the ground.

You lay there for half an hour, your screams and cries rang out for thirteen minutes before, your voice failing on you. Before a groaning and inhuman screams replaced what was left.

-

The Cunning Hares had been able to take down the mysterious monster; what would usually call for celebration had to be postponed as they followed Phaethon deeper into the Hollow, searching for the last signal of human life. It had been seventeen minutes since the last ping. Phaethon warned them that what they would find would either be a corpse but the Cunning Hares refused to believe that, not wanting to part with you so early into your career, not when you had become integrated into the group.

Finally reaching the last known location, they found a puddle of blood, drying up, with no body. A monster nearby, with scraps of clothing still hanging on, yours.

They couldn't even leave with a body to bury.

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 9

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

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CH.9

“Why don’t criminals trust stairs?”

“Stanley, I am trying to work.”

“Because they’re always up to something.”

*Ford covering his mouth with his hand because he’s trying really hard not to laugh*

“Why don’t criminals like elevators? Because they hate getting taken down.”

*Ford faceplanting on his desk and slamming his fist on it because he’s trying not to laugh*

“What do you call a criminal snob going downstairs? A condescending con descending.”

“E-enough! I’m going to put you on mute if you don’t stop.”

“Ah, come on man. It’s not like I got much else to do here. I can’t even write in that notebook you guys gave me anymore cause I got nothing to write with.”

“Maybe you would still have writing utensils if we didn't run out because you chewed up all of the other ones we gave you.”

“I can’t help it, PhD. I’m on day seven of nicotine withdrawal and it’s still kicking my ass. I get that this whole lab is a ‘no smoking’ zone, but I saw stretch using dip, and you didn’t say anything; just looked at him in a passive aggressive, judgemental way.”

“Tobacco is a nasty habit, and you are better off losing that vice while you’re still in a controlled environment. Our father never kicked it on his own, so this is really for your own-.”

“Yeah, yeah Doc. For my own good. I’ve heard it a million times. Do you like, keep score of how many times you say that, is someone keeping track of it? Or is that your only excuse for the insane crap you’re always pulling.”

“If it will placate you and keep you quiet, I’ll wheel over a television.”

“You have one of those down here?”

“I primarily use it as a device that decrypts thoughts, but its original function is still intact. Let me bring it over.”

“How uncharacteristically considerate of you.”

“You’re watching The Black and White Period Piece Old Lady Boring Movie Channel.”

“Wait a second, where's the remote?”

“There isn’t one.”

“Stay tuned for the six episode marathon of The Six Wives of Henry VIII, starring Keith Michell as Henry VIII, Annette Crosbie as Catherine of Aragon, Dorothy Tutin as Anne Boleyn-”

“Change the channel. PhD, I swear to God.”

“Anne Stallybrass as Jane Seymour, Elvi Hale as Anne of Cleves, Angela Pleasance as Catherine Howard, and Rosalie Crutchley as Catherine Parr.”

“No- NO!”

*Ford presses the mute button on the cell*

(...)

160 minutes later…

“Stanford, I brought those scrap m- what in Sam Hell?”

“I appreciate it, Fiddleford.”

“Is there a particular reason Stan is staring unblinking at that TV screen?”

“I put on a soap opera because I thought he would hate it. But he… really got into it.”

“Is that the same reason why his desk chair is smashed in the corner?”

“Yes, there was a plot twist he did not find agreeable. I tried to change the channel after one episode, but he gave me such a look that I truly believe if I did, he would find a way to break the forcefield just to strangle me.”

“That’s… Not what I expected from someone like him.”

“I’ve never seen him get this way. Not even during a baseball game or boxing match where he made the wrong bet.”

“It can’t rightly be that interesting.” 

*Fiddleford pulls up a chair near the cell to watch the TV*

“You both do that. I still have important research to document.”

(...)

240 minutes later…

*all three of them are staring at the TV and don’t start blinking until the credits roll*

“I’ll tell you what, fellers, I can’t believe Gardiner got away with everything.”

“I know, right? Whatever Jesus approves of, I’m sure it’s not that.”

"We're Jewish, Stanley."

"Really? Well that explains why I distinctly remember the Aryan Brotherhood nearly beating me to death in prison."

"They what?!"

"Calm down PhD, I said nearly."

(...)

"Stanley, it has almost been ten days, it’s time to remove your stitches."

"Give me some nail clippers, I'll do it myself."

"Properly. Come on, don't be such a wuss about it."

“Can’t F do it instead?”

“No, he is in town on a supply run. Also, the only difference between you and I and under that shirt is the amount of rolls.”

“Ouch, low blow PhD. It’s not like you’re a runway model either. Fine, but any more cracks on my weight, and I’m going to remind you I’m a threat inside and outside of bars.”

"What are these, circles-? Wait, burns? ...Who did this to you?"

"... Don't worry about it."

"I am going to worry about it! Stanley, who did this?"

"It doesn't matter..."

"It does! Please, I'm your brother just-"

"Don't make me think about it, I don’t remember a lot but- I don't like remembering that."

"Oh Stanley." *hugs him even though it isn't returned* "I'm so sorry. Whatever happened, you didn't deserve that."

"You'd be surprised."

To be continued...

[akookminsupporter]

For those who were surprised or confused or were trying to find reasons on why Jikook enlisted together and *gasp* who will still be together for the next 500+ days, have you watched original content?

Like Run BTS, where JK mostly tries (yet, sometimes fails) to be on the same team as Jimin or helps Jimin (even if they're on different teams), or almost fights one of his hyungs when Jimin gets hurt by a shuttlecock (not on purpose)?

How about the Bon Voyage series, where competitive Jungkook was so happy to lose a game bec he gets to share a room w/ Jimin, or how they were mostly together, and shared food w/ each other? How JK, with a humongous backpack, was so happy to have Jimin as his partner in Hawaii? How about JK waking up early in the morning to hike and get a huge chunk of snow for Jimin? How about them walking while Jimin listens attentively to JK about sand fleas that got stuck at the bottom of his shoes?

In the Soop S1 and S2, sound familiar? The all-nighter duo going at it, drinking, laughing, smashing a mosquito net? How about having a karaoke session, eating ramen, and drinking beer? JK asking a sleepy Jimin if he wanted Haemul kalguksu?

How about the four documentaries? How they end up rehearsing until the end together, how they spend several hours per day? And yet, still wanting to be together even after they finished work? How they eat dinner in one of the rooms and talk? Or how, when one gets overwhelmed/frustrated/disappointed, they seek the other's presence?

How about those Festa videos and Festa special interviews, how they admire and inspire each other to be better at their craft, be better people?

How about the past weverse lives, esp Jungkook's ones? How about listening to other members when they say Jikook are together during this and that?

If people would just listen and look at their pattern, it shouldn't come as a surprise that Jimin and Jungkook will choose each other, especially for major decisions/moments in their lives, because that's what they've been doing the past decade.

Why undergo the complicated process of the buddy system when they would just separate after 5 months? They could have just enlisted individually. These people write lies and essays about Korean's military system, which they have zero knowledge about because it's Jikook. If other members did it, no one would question it.

Instead of worrying about JK and Jimin's safety in the artillery unit (which, quite frankly, seems intense based on what they were operating), solos and the subgroup keep spewing BS. Do you know the mental toll learning how to kill has on a person? And these guys commenting that JK is not smiling on the photo? Smh. I'm so sorry for the word vomit, Rosie. The next several months would be crazier and a lot would be more unhinged, it seems, bec they refuse to acknowledge the truth about Jungkook and Jimin's bond.

I just wish for Jikook and all the other members to come back healthy, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

OPINIONS.

[tangerinesgirl]

Fowl Play

Chapter 1

Fem!Reader x Mark Hoffman x Eric Newlon

Word count: 1.1k

Rating: explicit, 18+, no minors

Warnings: DEAD DOVE, dark fic, non con, pet names, reader in saw trap, violence, no smut (yet), stockholm syndrome

Summary: Eric is back and has enlisted the help of Mark to resume where he left off. Killing people involved in the Black Friday massacre with rigged jigsaw traps.

Notes: Set after the events of Saw 3D and Thanksgiving, no one knows John Carver's identity. I also came up with my original Saw trap for this one which was fun. Currently writing chapter two where things get steamier. I hope you enjoy!

Edit: This fic has now been discontinued, thanks everyone for your continued support.

You jump awake at the sounds of gears churning, unsure what is going on or how exactly you ended up here. You instantly recognise the abandoned Rightmart, the place where all those people were killed a few years ago on Black Friday. The place tried to reopen a few times but it was doomed since that night, people would never forget... you would never forget. You look down and see that you’re sitting on something resembling a pommel horse, with two massive steel black boots on both feet, forcing you into place, but also forcing your weight down after each churn of the cogs. Your hands are also tied behind your back with police handcuffs.

Suddenly you remember all the newspaper articles recently saying that John Carver was back, despite dying in a fire a year ago, the guy behind the Thanksgiving killings on a revenge mission. You just so happened to be in the store on that Black Friday night, but you hid in the clothing section, waiting for it to pass over, you wouldn’t hurt a fly, never mind kill anyone! Why you? 

The cogs start turning faster, and you can feel some of your bones starting to shift and you start to scream and panic. Looking down, you notice the machinery could be in arms reach. You contort yourself to try and wedge the handcuffs in the middle of a cog and *SNAP* they break in half.

You immediately bring your hands up to the seat to try and shift your weight onto them, to give your hips a break. You try to tip the horse over with your weight, but it’s drilled to the floor. You put on a brave face and decide try and break the machinery somehow. You bend back down and you swear you can hear the cogs moving faster again. You panic and decide to just lodge your left hand in the machinery and hope for the best. The thick steel part of the handcuff on your wrist jams a cog for long enough for you to reach with your other hand to unscrew it.

You groan as the blood rushes to your head as you remove the wheel, sitting back up. You let out a deep sigh, thinking you’ve escaped and stopped the machine, but to your surprise, it keeps going. You panic again and start to smash at the metal boots with all your strength to free yourself. The sweat and the blood from your hand made freeing your foot from the first boot surprisingly easy as it just slips out. As you dented the metal of the boot, the cog also broke, so you pick up the boot, swing yourself over, and start smashing the other boot with it. 

After what feels like an eternity, you finally break loose and collapse to the floor, letting out a guttural scream as you realise you’ve narrowly avoided death. You realise you don’t have time to sit and cry about it, and need to move to safety. As you stand, your hips struggle to realign themselves, are they broken? Tough shit. Your wrist is still bleeding out but you can worry about that later, you’re more concerned how you’re going to walk out of here.

You wobble quickly through the abandoned store to the main exit. Locked. Of course it wouldn’t be that simple. You jump as you hear a fire exit opening from behind you, and dash to the same clothes aisle you hid that Black Friday night. 

“Clever girl”.

Your eyes widen as you realise you know the voice. The town Sheriff. You’ve always had a little crush on him, even if he did try to literally crush you in return just now. Under normal circumstances, if he had called you a clever girl, you would have been turned on. You can hear his footsteps pacing the empty store. He picks up something off the ground, every urge of your body is telling you to turn around and see what it is, but you don’t. You sit solid in fear, covering your mouth to try and regulate your breathing. You can hear him chuckle slightly, how can he laugh seeing you like this? The sick bastard.

“Shame you weren’t clever enough to cover your tracks”.

You look down and see the blood from your wrist leading directly to your hiding spot. You grab a jumper from a hanger and quickly bandage your hand, and quietly get up to find another exit. Luckily it’s pretty dark, and you have no shoes on, so you can cover the noise from your walking pretty well. You stick closely to the wall, trying to feel for another exit, what little light you had disappearing the further back into the shop you went. You feel a door handle, so you slowly and quietly open it. You try to peer inside when suddenly you feel a rush of pain to your face, sending you a few steps backwards, straight into Sheriff Newlon, wielding an axe. He puts his arms around your waist, using the axe to lift you up off the floor as you kick and scream trying to free yourself. 

“Aw did you really think I would go this alone after the last time? Cute.”

As the Sheriff carries you back the way you came, you can see the face of his accomplice as the security lights outside occasionally flicker to his face. It’s a new detective on the police force, you’ve seen him around before. Then it dawns on you. It’s the guy who was proven to be the jigsaw killer all those years ago. Mark Hoffman. How did no one see this? Maybe they did, and the whole police force is in on this operation. A grim thought. But you’re speculating here. 

The Sheriff slams you back on the floor in the room you just escaped from. You try to get up but he threatens you with the axe, hovering very close to your neck. 

“Don’t even think about it princess”.

Damn it, why does he use pet names for you like this? Your body betrays you as his voice makes you shiver. The Stockholm Syndrome isn’t helping the fact that you actually like this guy in real life.

“You know it’s a shame your contraption didn’t break her hips, Mark”, the Sheriff's gaze still fixed on you.

The Detective speaks up, “You’re right, we will just have to break them another way”.

He bends down to look into your eyes, wiping away your tears. 

“You look very pretty when you cry”. 

You spit on his face, making him flinch slightly. He looks back at you and smiles. 

“I think we can have a little fun with this one”, he says, addressing the Sheriff.

[cineflections]

You know, if there was one manga that would be adapted to live action and succeed, I never would have guessed it to be this one.

I'm ofc talking about the One Piece Live Action on Netflix

A whole day binge right after release, I was READY, and thankfully, I was not disappointed. There are cuts and streamlining of the story, characters coming in earlier than in the manga/anime, and some of the emotional bits don't hit as hard as in the original. Still, I can feel the love the production team has of One Piece. The characters are goofy and lovable, but they are also serious and straight-faced.

One thing that I noticed throughout was the constant close up to faces and sometimes straight on, as if almost breaking the 4th wall. The very first scene with Luffy is like this, but there he DOES look into the camera directly, but the pov of the camera is revealed to be a newsbird. It's like a statement that they know this is a silly pirate romp, they know that some people will not take this seriously, but they will not do 4th wall breaks silly, but in-universe silly. Does that make sense?

I laughed at several points in the show, big and wide smile on my face and pointing at the screen several times...

But I do wonder how much of my laugh was on the show's on merit or if I was only calling back on the the source material. At times I did feel the straw hat crew not being as iconic as in the manga/anime. The extreme reactions, the over the top noises and actions, at the same time I realize that real people generally don't act like that.

I appreciate the show runners attention to details. Putting stuff in to tease future arcs, adapting some cover stories, some of the complete unhinged behaviors of characters (Garp I'm looking at you!).

This show adapted Romance Dawn, orange town, syrup village, baratie, and arlong park.

There are so many moments that are almost scene by scene taken from the manga. Luffy in the barrel and meeting Koby. Alvida with her giant spike club. We got to see some pre-captured Zoro moments (particularly him killing a baroque works agent!), Nami being a sneak.

Then we meet the one and only clown Buggy! They hammed him up, they made him a showman and a real clown (with a real bulgy nose as well, props!). I loved Buggy. Goddamn what a show stealer. Excellent casting, his devil fruit was show cased so well and it looked good!

Usopp's introduction is the most changed. The kids are gone and the Black Cat pirates never call in the entire crew or Jango. Instead of the fight on the slope by the beach it's instead in Kaya's house from which they cannot escape. The actor for Kuro nailing the mannerism and hand movements, altho his "teleporting" looks a bit wonky.

With Baratie we are finally introduced to Sanji! Who's British now 😆. And Mihawk's introduction tho! Badass and just so over the top and goofy. I love him so much! This is where we got the biggest change where we instead get Arlong and crew coming in smashing the place up (a tiny bit). Arlong may not be as tall as he should be but I love the practical approach instead of CGI, which means he actually feels present! All the fishmen we see are guys in costume and prosthetics!

Arlong Park felt a bit more rushed than the earlier parts, but I do think they nailed *that* scene tho.

If the bar for live action adaptation was below the ground, I would say now there's a new bar, which is on the ground 😅. I think it's a solid show but it might be my bias talking. I do have some gripes tho.

One thing that was constant in East Blue Saga was how much village people hate or are scared of pirates. I think they got the marines right, and the pirates, but they failed to really have the village people be a character in their own right. In the manga and anime the villagers are mostly a monolith who will think and act alike in situations and be part of the happenings either by watching or fighting. We got just about none of it here, except a mention in Arlong Park. They did some really good and cool world building with lots of people populating the sets in the background - but that's it, they're just extras to fill out the screen. There are ofc a few exceptions but I felt it was not enough.

I wish they had Luffy be more agile when using his gum-gum powers. Whenever he springs a pistol or a whip is stands in place, which I found boring (and they did so well with Zoro's fights!). I do think the explanation is that they decided for Luffy to be coming into his powers as we go. That we will learn with him all the things he can do (him not knowing he can blow himself up like a balloon proves this). I hope that in season 2 (please netflix!) they show the growth in his fighting!

But to end this long post. I just wanna say how much I fucking love the dude playing Mihawk. Goddamn he's so fun. MVP.

For the straw hats, I would say that Usopp feels the closest to manga version, and Luffy feels the most distant from it. But I don't dislike this, and I think the actor for Luffy has so much potential to really make the role his own.

It will never be "just like" the manga and anime, but that's ok! It's a new adaptation (in live action) made by people you can tell loves the source material and really really tried to make it work! I respect that, and I respect this show. Please watch it on Netflix! It's a fun and silly time, just like it should be!

[regretevator-confessions]

*not targeting at anyone*

I hate ships in this game, full stop, end of story.

Literally like 6 work

“Hehe I like partybeatle, hammerhonk, Jeremy x Unpleasant stay mad”

OH MY GOD SHUT THE FUCK UP IF YOU READ THE WIKI OF YOUR QUOTE ON QUOTE “favorite character” YOUD STOP

IT ISNT THAT HARD TO READ DUMBASSES

PEST

• doesn’t like POOB

• thinks roaches are disgusting, but would use one to scare PartyNoob.

•sometimes scares PartyNoob to make them go away.

• goes the party’s to STEAL (GUESS WHO LIKES PARTYS?!)

Mach

• deadass straight from the wiki that she doesn’t want a relationship (if you are shipping them in like a “oh they won’t ever ask each other out way they are just in love way” then I probably actually like you and I hope your pillow is cold but I’m still watching you.)

Also a quick side note rant for Mach shippers can you guys please stop making Mach SA and GRAPE PEOPLE YOU SICK FUCKS???? 😨

Jeremy x Unpleasant

• IN THE WIKI THERES A PHOTO YEUCC DREW SAYING HOW JEREMY WOULD SMASH THE CAGE. CRUMBLE TO DUST AND BLOW AWAY.

• oh I’m so cool look at me NO. YOU GUYS ARE AS STUPID AS THE REST

• UNPLEASANT IS THE MOST HATED CHARACTER

• STOP READING SO MUCH TUMBLR BLOGS ABOUT THAT DUMBASS IT LITERALLY ATE A CAT.

WE ARE ONLY MAD BECAUSE YOUR STUPID AND CANT SEEM TO DO ANYTHING WITHOUT SUBWAY SURFERS PLAYING BESIDES IT

There’s so many more.. but taking to this community is like taking to a WALL.

NOT EVEN LIKE THE SPEEDING WALL, JUST A PLAIN WALL.

“Oh, in my headcann-“

HEADCANNONS.

You guys RIP EVERYTHING FROM THE CHARACTER.

It’s basically making a new oc with a BASE.

Listen, im not shaming headcannons, some of them are really cool

I just hate how everyone literally gives the character the fucking Lora and Krait treatment with the only thing remaining is the hat the original once wore.

It’s not the same. Sorry I’m so mad I really hate how my skin feels on me right now :(

.