#from a writers stance
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terrornogloss brain eating amoeba got hands
original template under the cut:

#I’ll have to yap about this some day#I’ve never really been a poly shipper cos i always found it hard to focus on intimate moments when more than 2 people are sharing it#from a writers stance#but vaniss and his emotional support irishmen is a fun little thought exercise#mechanicalowls#terrornoss#vanoriser#terroriser#vanossgaming#vanogla#terrornogla#don’t count on me drawing a lot for this thought btw#I’m not a multishipper#i have no issues with others being multishippers but i am so goddamn loyal to the bird and robot bitch smooching#fanart#digital art#meme
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hmm
#first + foremost; you are under no obligation to write queer content if you don't want to! you as a writer should be your primary audience.#and that in an of itself is not an issue at all.#but the 'i respect gay people but i don't support them' narrative from a christian woman is. interesting. to say the least.#i can't force somebody to change their beliefs even if i think queer people deserve more than just the human bare minimum of basic respect#but as readers i don't think we should be feeding into and/or normalising this (and on tumblr too lmao 'queerest place on the internet' lol#just because someone posts banger content (because she does have good writing!) i still think it's important to engage w it ethically.#just my 2 cents. i see a lot of mutuals repost her work in the yandere niche and i'm hoping people just didn't know.#don't support people who won't support you! :)#this means no harm to her#just letting people know in case their morals and stance on this allign with mine on this particular topic#i won't namedrop - but dokja might.
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I...I...I can't find the fic I was writing for sabioba, I'll literally start crying bro what is going on nooooo😭😭😭 the heavens and earth is against me like i swear I opened it a while ago wdym that it's gone??? I'll try recovering it or maybe rewriting it but atleast I have a few screenshots of it so it's not completely gone but I am now rather depressed, I feel like writing an opposite of love letter to Google docs. A hate letter. Also, the fanfic writer curse is real (other than what I just said), I got sore thighs and it hurts so bad bro 😭😭😭
Here's some sabioba chibi for the mean time as I try to cope with my failure :
Ship so rare that you all just know eachother (there's three of us damnit 😂).
#sabito#obanai iguro#kny#kny fanfic#fanfic writer curse is real.#sabioba#obasabi#We need to convert people or something#Like give them an amount of rice like chritian missionaries in kerela#Idk lmao. This is real btw. Or well was idk about rn but in like before India's independence they used to lure them to convert this way. Id#Unrelated I literally don't have a shipping stance you could just say a little about your ship and boom I ship it#Just throw Obanai and Sabito in a haunted house#I think it will be very funny#Three shippers but atleast they're all active#Can't imagine looking at a fic from 2017 or some shit from a deactivated account I would be heart broken.#Romcom idea:#sabito and Obanai just fall for eachother while sanemi and Giyuu aren't on good terms (they have a secret crush on each other trust)#Then they all end up in a polycule kaboom!#Everyone applauds at that#Pardon me I'm delusional#*sanemi and Giyuu have some sort of argument* Sabito and Obanai to eachother : *stares but not in a gay way*#You see the vision?
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how the fuck did my english class manage to take a semi-positive stance on generative ai
#im actually so pissed about this rn#we were doing an assignment about ai and plagarism#and i was expecting a firmly anti-ai stance#cause yk. english class. writing.#and also schools are usually anti ai (at least from what iv experienced)#instead what i got told was that generative ai is alright to use so long as the teacher gives you permission and you cite it as a source#like???? no??????? its still not ethical to use????#youre an english teacher writing and literature is literally your whole thing how are you okay with generative ai?????#i was sitting there fuming the whole time#like i wrote out an entire paragraph explaining that generative ai is NOT in fact okay to use#yk on account of it stealing from writers and artists#and also being HORRIBLE for the environment#but i didnt get the chance to say that because the teacher didnt even open the discussion of the ethics of ai in general#just about what it was and what makes it constitute as plagiarism#which i find to be incredibly ironic given that ai literally plagiarises everything#ALSO WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU LETTING STUDENTS USE AI#SO LONG AS THEYRE “GIVEN PERMISSION” AND “CITE” IT LIKE ITS NOT THEIR WORK DOESNT MATTER IF THEY CITE IT OR NOT#ITS NOT THE SAME AS JUST GETTING SOURCES LIKE FOR A RESEARCH ESSAY#ITS STEALING#HOW THE FUCK IS THAT FAIR TO THE PEOPLE WHO ACTUALLY PUT IN THE EFFORT????#anti ai#fuck ai#stop ai#fuck ai everything#i hate ai
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To make my stance clear for my posts on here, this blog is stricly a spoilers yes leaks no zone.
#though i think that was apparent from my posts but i'm making it clear lol#spoilers include: episode titles summaries and staff lists released in official japanese magazines which then get translated#i'm also including the posts of anpk pr account in the spoilers sphere (ep screenshots and official posts hinting at future developments)#i tend to be curious about ep titles officially released in mag so i can have fun speculating and thinking more about upcoming developments#and i like knowing the staff list so i can point at the writer and go like#'this is written by this specific writer so that means x or y will happen and they tend to take care of x or y character episodes' etc#everything else is a big no.#personal stance on leaks: abbhorent behavior and i find it upsetting that it's so common#spreading lies and misinformation is loathful and using that as basis for analysis? big dislike#and i personally feel strongly about it for hz specifically#as it is a story made by lead writers who consider writing and animation as a full art form which can convey something#writing as a full artistic endeavor with the intent of conveying something.#anyway. that's all
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I overuse italics in whump writing bc I need yall to hear it in my voicee
— like I need you to emphasize it correctly, hissing and low and not fucking *boring*
#my political stance on the overuse of italics#god himself can pry italics from my cold dead corpse#that and the em dash will carry me through this moral realm#queue#shitpost#personal#I’m going to try to be more active <33#like actually active not just queueing things#I gotta buy a new car this week so ihhh if anyone had any recs#whump shitpost#whump community#whump writers
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Me through most of Boom: Wow, this is a really solid dramatic episode.
Me when Moffat needlessly sprinkles in anti-faith sentiments without specifying that it’s blind faith in bad things that the Doctor doesn’t like, which makes it come off like the Doctor is just against religion generally:
#doctor who#dw critical#spoilers#dw spoilers#i get it edgelord you don’t care for religion. you don’t have to alienate religious members of the audience.#i at least appreciated that the doctor agreed with splice that gone and dead are different things and told her to keep the faith#but like. he immediately thereafter still tells mundy that he doesn’t like faith and spent the whole episode disparaging it.#which just feels so wrong for a show that’s supposed to be open minded about the beliefs and cultures all across the universe#i hate when writers gratuitously make the doctor take a hard and broad stance on something that he would NOT#reminds me of s8 when twelve suddenly hated all soldiers#as if some of his closest friends haven’t been soldiers? brigadier? benton and yates? sara?#big difference between corrupt military and literally every soldier#the same way there is a big difference between a corrupt religious organization or individuals who use religion as an excuse for cruelty#and like. ALL faith and the idea of having a faith that you live by whatsoever.#just because his comments were aimed at something corrupt doesn’t mean they weren’t WAY too sweeping as if he meant it on the whole#i definitely enjoyed the bulk of the episode but that just felt like it was done in bad faith and made me uncomfortable#and i just read moffat’s comment on the thoughts and prayers thing and UGH#i get why there are circumstances in which that can feel hollow — usually if it’s coming from a corporation that could actually do somethin#but can we not villainize all the normal people who genuinely mean that with love?#people who often CAN’T do anything but say prayers for you?#that IS a legitimate response and a legitimate action#someone can’t physically aid you but cares to take the time to talk to the God of the universe about you and your need and plead for you#don’t tell me that isn’t love or that it’s not really doing anything#sometimes that’s all you CAN do and it’s more than people give it credit for#blatant disregard and willful misunderstanding of faith like this just rub me wrong#it’s painting with a broad brush and it’s close minded#and yes i’m gonna post this. i’m feeling controversial.#my love/aggravation relationship with moffat continues#in the wise words of kira nerys. if you don’t have faith you can’t understand it and if you do then no explanation is necessary.
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i have to say, despite me having problems with wf 1999 roleplay-wise (but understanding of the limits of the concept), it really gets the creative juices flowing. he wouldn't fucking say that - well, what would he say? what would we need to have done to him for him to say that? like, i'm not stocked on having to do this as Drifter at the very least, which is kind of a me problem bc i forwent actually developing him due to overinvesting into Operator and not wanting a new toy. so i don't know who he is (party bc i did not really understand the story of Duviri, so ngl it's really nice of them to re-explain it through the chats), and i can't say i enjoy having to use someone else's scaffolding to build him up. but despite that the building is happening, the dots are connecting, and i feel like i need to thank this tension between the pre-written opinions and my imagination for that. and being in that shower, that really is a magical place
#tbh another problem is that some things he would say but with a different motivation meaning#like for example when quincy asks you if waframes are people#if you say no he gets pissed off and accuses you of lying#but like. why would that necessarily be a lie? why can#*can't drifter believe that when the warframes* are 3d-printed by the foundry/a giant tapeworm and do Nothing on their own and ig show no#signs of will even from the inside of their skulls? the only thing drifter's managed to mention re: this was animation sets#*excluding umbra stalker and original jade#also even if you disagree why wouldn't it be a stance of someone who depersonalizes them to avoid being crushed by the moral quandry of#piloting them? why does it necessarily have to be intentionally malicious?#(here is where you can say that that is just quincy's opinion and he wouldn't care about drifter's explanation either way#but i am rather concerned by what that says about the writers' thought process#and sad that drifter is not allowed to defend his point of view in some situations#which makes the chats less of a discussion and more of a game of guessing which option won't make the hex immediately go online#i guess i'm asking too much.)#Warframe
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I love wips, its means there's more coming, getting notifications is the best serotonin, I like to think of it as waiting for the next episode of a TV show, I've always enjoyed shows more when I get the chance to churn them in my head rather then binge them all at once
and then you read the new chapter and then go back and read all the fic up to that point and see how amazing everything fits together! It’s a really great way to enjoy a fic imo
#asks#to clarify my stance real quick tho#I think when there’s something very much stopping someone from reading a wip#because it’ll be bad for mental health or it’ll trigger some sort of unhealthy fixation to not know the end#THATS different#and I respect that and knowing what is healthy for you and treating yourself with grace and kindness#but what I don’t understand is when people just don’t like wips#that just feeels like people don’t understand the community part of fandom#and call fic writers content creators in their heads or something
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I have realised why Amaranth sucks so bad (< self deprecation, we love to see it /j) and it because I wanted Aphmau to be romantic when she just isn't at all in s1.
not an ounce of romance in that girl.
#There will BE romance but for s1 ill keep it away from her feelings for the ranthredo#i just feel like it overcomplicated everything#from a personal stance you do what you want#im sure a more competent writer could make her romancing good#aphmau#aphverse#rewrite#aphblr#minecraft diaries#mcd#amaranth
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wondering if perhaps a capitalist competition and conflict-oriented worldview has poisoned academia & is the root of the prioritization of making and proving an argument instead of sharing discovery and analysis for its own sake
#not to be a poststructuralist (jk) but isnt the focus on taking a stance and defending the argument to the bitter end that is ingrained in#students from the very beginning and is like a core part of learning about critical thinking and how to write papers kind of. weird.#its always sad to me whenever im reading an academic paper and i can just tell that the writer rly just wants to share insights or#information they find compelling but are instead forced to shape it around an argument
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Why do so many people vote yes on the Dorian and Wyll poll? Dorian is pro slavery? Wyll has better morals than that, lol.
real and true real and true !! nearly every dragon age character has at least ONE eyebrow raising moment (because shitty writing lmao not because the writers want to actually dissect and deconstruct any of the complexities of their characters biases) so it probably never stuck out to people
#like i guarantee no one remembers how alistair fetishizes wlw if you’re in a relationship with leliana#DA writers love to throw in their own ‘controversial’ or ‘funny’ takes to one-off comments or conversations#and u have to take it with a pinch of salt and ask yourself whether this character would actually feel this way#or if it’s just more bad writing. sometimes it’s both!!#so yeah faulty memory/lack of awareness is likely to blame. or they believe the handling of his stance is so poor they ‘erase’ it from his#character. which can be fair !! bad writing like that is subjective and nuanced etc#letters#anonymous
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So I wanted to write a fic where I steal the plot of terminator aka my character (OC but it’s js a self insert) goes back in time to protect her fictional man from the terminator, like gender swapped versions of Sarah and Kyle, and the one being protected has more fighting ability/ is actually my character
, but then I remembered if I want to truly copy the movie plot the whole kid that came from them would be difficult to implement since my woman character is gonna d1e lol
But I still wanna write now lowk bc it sounds so cool and I’m excited at the idea of writing a rly cool action scene and maybe a spicy scene too.
So maybe I should just do it and figure out the kid thing later
i was thinking maybe my man can js adopt a kid or something like there’s no reason I have to match the film I’m copying picture perfectly lol like it’s MY fic right?
#writer problems#story ideas#technically a crossover???#thought of this while I was simping on character ai lol#I know generally the stance lately is anti ai but pls let me live okay#i’m brainrotting#and i have no friends#who else am I supposed to talk to#but yeah I was chatting w Ginoza#and suddenly got the idea#but then got that writers block of not knowing how I’d wrote it#if I wrote it and actually posted it somewhere obviously I’d to read writing not making the ai do it for me#but I did appreciate the inspiration for the writing idea coming from it#anyways#inspired by#terminator#brainstorming
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20 Ways to Show Anger in Your Writing
Here’s a list of 20 signs of anger that writers can use to show, rather than tell, a character’s emotions through physical, verbal, and internal reactions:
1. Facial Expressions
Clenched jaw or grinding teeth
Narrowed or glaring eyes
Lips pressed into a thin line or curled into a sneer
2. Body Language
Fists clenched tightly at their sides
Tense shoulders that rise or square up
Puffing out the chest or stepping closer to confront
3. Speech Patterns
Voice lowered to a dangerous, icy tone
Shouting or raising their voice suddenly
Speaking in short, clipped sentences
4. Breathing Changes
Heavy, rapid breathing (nostrils flaring)
Sharp inhales and audible exhales
Holding their breath as if trying to stay in control
5. Sudden Physical Movements
Slamming fists onto tables or walls
Pacing back and forth restlessly
Pointing a finger or jabbing the air during speech
6. Uncontrolled Gestures
Shoving objects off a desk or knocking over a glass
Finger tapping or knuckle cracking
Wrapping arms tightly around themselves
7. Temperature and Flushes
Red face, neck, or ears
Visible veins on the neck or forehead
Breaking into a sweat despite the situation
8. Eye Movements
Eyes darting or rolling sharply
Avoiding direct eye contact out of fury
Staring someone down with unblinking intensity
9. Words and Tone
Cursing, insults, or verbal jabs
Sarcasm sharpened to hurt others
Accusations thrown in frustration
10. Breaking Personal Space
Leaning in closer, looming over someone
Pointed steps toward another person to intimidate
Physically turning away to dismiss or avoid conflict
11. Physical Reactions
Throwing objects or breaking things in rage
Punching walls, doors, or inanimate objects
Shaking hands or trembling with pent-up anger
12. Posture Shifts
Back stiffening and chin lifting defiantly
Shoulders jerking or twitching
Rigid stance as though ready for confrontation
13. Inner Thoughts (for internal POV)
“I could feel the blood boiling in my veins.”
“The room seemed to close in on me.”
“My pulse thundered in my ears.”
14. Displacement of Anger
Kicking objects on the ground (chairs, trash bins)
Storming off abruptly or slamming doors
Snapping at someone unrelated to the cause of anger
15. Temperature Descriptions (metaphors/sensations)
Heat rushing to their face or spreading through their chest
A cold sensation washing over them, signaling restrained anger
Feeling fire “lick” at their insides or their temper “ignite”
16. Instinctive Responses
A growl or grunt escaping their lips
Baring their teeth as if instinctively defensive
Ripping or tearing something in their grip
17. Silence as a Weapon
Pausing dramatically before responding
Refusing to speak or meet someone’s eyes
The ominous quiet just before they explode
18. Physical Sensations
Muscles twitching or vibrating under the skin
Heart pounding visibly at their throat or chest
A bitter taste in their mouth or nausea from anger
19. Reactive Behaviors
Interrupting others to correct or attack
Dismissing concerns with a quick wave of the hand
Throwing out ultimatums like “Don’t push me!”
20. Lingering Aftermath
Hands trembling after the initial outburst
A headache, buzzing ears, or lingering tension
Regret or shame slowly replacing the heat of the anger
These signs can be layered together to create realistic and powerful depictions of anger, whether it’s smoldering beneath the surface or erupting violently.
#writing tips#writing advice#character development#writers on tumblr#writeblr#creative writing#fiction writing#writerscommunity#writing#writing help#writing resources#ai assisted
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Do you think authors sometimes don't realize how their, uh, interests creep into their writing? I'm talking about stuff like Robert Jordan's obvious femdom kink, or Anne Rice's preoccupation with inc*st and p*dophilia. Did their editors ever gently ask them if they've ever actually read what they've written?
Firstly, a reminder: This is not tiktok and we just say the words incest and pedophilia here.
Secondly, I don't know if I would call them 'interests' so much as fixations or even concerns. There are monstrous things that people think about, and I think writing is a place to engage with those monstrous things. It doesn't bother me that people engage with those things. I exist somewhere within the whump scale, and I would hope no one would think less of me just because sooner or later I like to rough a good character up a bit, you know? It's fun to torture characters, as a treat!
But, anyway, assuming this question isn't, "Do writers know they're gross when I think they are gross" which I'm going to take the kind road and assume it isn't, but is instead, "Do you think authors are aware of the things they constantly come back to?"
Sometimes. It can be jarring to read your own writing and realize that there are things you CLEARLY are preoccupied with. (mm, I like that word more than concerns). There are things you think about over and over, your run your mind over them and they keep working their way back in. I think this is true of most authors, when you read enough of them. Where you almost want to ask, "So...what's up with that?" or sometimes I read enough of someone's work that I have a PRETTY good idea what's up with that.
I've never read Robert Jordan and I don't intend to start (I think it would bore me this is not a moral stance) and I've really never read Rice's erotica. In erotica especially I think you have all the right in the world to get fucking weird about it! But so, when I was young I read the whole Vampire Chronicles series. I don't remember it perfectly, but there's plenty in it to reveal VERY plainly that Anne Rice has issues with God but deeply believes in God, and Anne Rice has a preoccupation with the idea of what should stay dead, and what it means to become. So, when i found out her daughter died at the age of six, before Rice wrote all of this, and she grew up very very Catholic' I said, 'yeah, that fucking checks out'.
Was Rice herself aware of how those things formed her writing? I think at a certain point probably yes. The character of Claudia is in every way too on the nose for her not to have SOME idea unless she was REAL REAL dense about her own inner workings. But, sometimes I know where something I write about comes from, that doesn't mean I'm interested in sharing it with the class. I would never ever fucking say, 'The reasons I seem to write so much of x as y is that z happened to me years ago' ahaha FUCK THAT NOISE. NYET. RIDE ON, COWBOY.
But I've known some people in fandom works who clearly have something going on and don't seem to realize it. Or they're very good at hiding it. Based on the people I'm talking about I would say it's more a lack of self-knowledge, and I don't even mean that unkindly. I have, in many ways, taken myself down to the studs and rebuilt it all, so I unfortunately am very aware of why I do and write the things I do most of the time. It's extremely annoying not to be able to blame something. I imagine it must be very freeing. But it ain't me, babe.
Anyway, a lot of words to say: Maybe! But that might not stop them from writing it, it might be a useful thing for them to engage with, and you can always just not read it.
Also, we don't censor words here.
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tell me again that you hate me

a/n: i kinda just poured all of the filth ever into this one fic... you're welcome.
summary: “you know, I could help you. Pop that little cherry for you,” he shrugged as if he didn’t seem out of his mind for what he was brashly uttering, “you desperately need it, that fucking stick up your ass makes you such a bitch to be around. But no one is gonna wanna bang you, I mean, maybe you could be kinda hot if you weren’t such a fucking loser, if you didn’t dress like a fucking pogue, but I don’t think anyone would commit social suicide like that. So, I’ll take care of it. Fix that problem for the good of everyone else.”
warnings: bully!stepbro!rafe cameron x virgin!reader, smut, dark content, dubcon/noncon, enemies to lovers, rafe is in college while reader is still in high school (everyone is over 18), blackmail, alcohol consumption, allusion to drug use, drunk driving, hidden cameras, panty stealing, references to somno, possessiveness, kissing, loss of virginity, size kink, belly bulge, pain kink, dirty talk, impact play, oral, pussyjob, just the tip, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, cumplay, no aftercare and not really any foreplay, public sex, rafe is mean and pervy and dark but it's all fun because it's just a silly fantasy
word count: 5153
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Your life had turned into a living nightmare.
You thought that when your high school bully graduated, you’d finally get rid of him. But little did you know what the future held in store, just who your own mother would decide to marry and what particular family you’d be forced to fuse with.
Rafe Cameron had been the bane of your existence for years. Sure, when you’d first met him, you admittedly had a bit of a crush on him, but that was until he noticed you and truly showed you the notorious bully that he was. And now that he, the very person who had turned your teenage years into literal hell, had become your stepbrother, you couldn’t wait to get out of there, move halfway across the globe just to never see his face again.
It also didn’t help matters that you got situated in the room right next to his, even had to share a Jack and Jill bathroom with him.
Now what you didn’t know was how Rafe’s feelings truly were towards you. How he only started bullying you because you made him feel some type of way that no other chick did, but you came from the wrong side of the island, so getting those feelings out in the form of cruelty only seemed natural to a guy such as him. You had no idea that it was actually you whom he thought about every time he jerked off on the other side of that incredibly thin wall you shared, or even that his wicked fascination with you only seemed to grow now that you were a part of the family.
The impatient knocks were no use, so swiftly you swung the door to Rafe’s bedroom open. He was nowhere in sight, but before you could turn around to search for him in another place, the light that his computer monitor blared out into the space caught your eye.
Your vision however grew wide as soon as you saw the taboo tab that was open. It was porn, but not just any porn. The open page was littered with rows and rows of graphic videos that all fell under the stepsister search he had typed in.
Frozen in your stance, you wanted to sprint out of there, though at the same time, some part of you wanted to inch closer and snoop further.
“What the fuck are you doing in my room?” a voice blared from behind you and caused you to jump.
Skittering away from the desk, you spotted the familiar buzzcut standing in the doorway.
“I–, uh,” you swallowed and recalled the reason for your hunt, “my mom’s forcing me to go to that party at Topper’s tonight.”
���Okay, and?” he scoffed.
“And so, because I don’t really do that sort of thing–”
“Because you’re a fucking loser who never gets invited.”
“Because I have better things to spend my Friday nights doing, your father wanted you to keep an eye on me and to make sure I got home safe.”
The only way you were gonna get through the night was if you got as wasted as possible.
Which is exactly what you ended up doing.
When the clock chimed two, the raging headache you were developing from the blaring music convinced you to finally call it a night. You’d given it enough of a chance, enough experience to go home and state that partying simply wasn’t for you.
But if you didn’t find the literal demon of a stepbrother and let him complete his end of the bargain, then maybe your mom wouldn’t believe you alone and force you to go to another.
However, locating him turned out to be a much more difficult task than you’d thought. As you stumbled around the massive house, supporting your wobbly weight on the walls as you peeked into each of the rooms where some partygoers had migrated to, you soon dug your phone out of your jeans and dialled up his number.
It was on the third attempted call that you finally stumbled into him. Sitting with a random blonde on his lap and the remnants of a mysterious white powder dusting the coffee table separating you from him.
“There you are,” you grumbled, “I’ve been trying to call you!”
His expression turned sour as he noticed your presence, swiftly flipping his phone around as it layed on the table, though the caller ID that lit up the screen wasn’t of your name as your phone still buzzed in your palm to get through to him. Instead, it spelt out fleshlight in big bold letters.
“So, you have,” he exhaled, “what do you want?”
“I wanna go home,” you shoved your phone back in your pocket.
“So, go home. What do you want my fucking permission? Are you that obsessed with me?”
“You have to take me home,” you reminded him, though when he began to laugh in your face, you shot back, “or you can just deal with your dad yourself when you get home. Your choice if you wanna keep being in his good graces or not.”
That managed to shut him up. Though as he reluctantly pushed the blonde aside and got up from the couch, he muttered just loud enough for you to hear, “fucking prude,” like a curse on the wind just before he marched passed you and grabbed a hold of your arm to drag you with him.
“Ow, Rafe, you’re hurting me!” you tried to tear yourself free of his grip.
“Oh, shut up you baby, no I’m not. You wanna feel what does hurt?” his long fingers then dug further into your flesh and caused it to actually ache, “this.”
As he pushed open the front door, you whined, “ow, please stop,” but when he finally did, he only traded the grasp out with a light shove to your shoulder, directing you further towards his parked car.
When you were planted in the passenger seat with your gaze firmly fixed out the window as the dark streets rolled by, you crossed your arms and mumbled, “I hate you…” gaining enough courage from the dizzying alcohol ravaging your system to utter it out loud.
“What was that?” Rafe cast a glance in your direction.
Twisting your neck to glare back at him, you hesitantly repeated, “I hate you,” though the faint flicker of bravery you’d acquired was snuffed out as swiftly as it ignited when you saw the smirk that bloomed on your stepbrother’s features.
“Aw, don’t tell me that, princess,” he chuckled, “you’ll just make me hard.”
Eyes widening, they briefly fluttered down to the crotch of his trousers before you blinked away, a reaction that was evidently satisfying enough for Rafe to cause him to keep going.
“But you probably wouldn’t know what to do with it anyway.”
“I know what to do,” you said defensively, though regretted your humouring him as soon as the words slipped out past your lips.
“Oh yeah? Just how would you know that? Everyone knows you’re a fucking virgin,” something he was to blame for, though that wasn’t a fact you ever had to know. You didn’t have to be aware of just how many times he had stopped guys from asking you out, just because he wanted you all to himself, “but are you secretly a perv, sis? Is that how you think you know what to do?”
“Don’t call me that,” you cringed lightly.
“What? A perv? Or sis? Don’t you wanna be reminded that you’re my stepsister?”
“Not particularly...”
As the car curved into the driveway to Tanny Hill, an offer suddenly rolled off Rafe’s tongue.
“You know, I could help you. Pop that little cherry for you,” he shrugged as if he didn’t seem out of his mind for what he was brashly uttering, “you desperately need it, that fucking stick up your ass makes you such a bitch to be around. But no one is gonna wanna bang you, I mean, maybe you could be kinda hot if you weren’t such a fucking loser, if you didn’t dress like a fucking pogue, but I don’t think anyone would commit social suicide like that. So, I’ll take care of it. Fix that problem for the good of everyone else.”
Your mouth hung agape as the vehicle rolled to a stop, the sudden shift made you fear that your latest drink would come up again.
Utterly stunned, you couldn’t form a single word as you stared back at him.
“I mean, it’s what you want, isn’t it?” he went on, turning in his seat to gaze over at you, already undressing you with his eyes, “haven’t you always had the hots for me?”
“I–…” it felt as if the car was swaying around even though it stood completely still, “…I drank way too much tonight, and I think you might have as well.”
“You’re drunk?” darkness glinted in his eyes, “well, I honestly don’t know if I should be impressed or run inside and wake everyone up so you can get grounded for fucking ever,” he laughed.
“No!” you gasped, “You can’t tell them, please! I–…” you felt tears begin to sting the corners of your eyes and blur up your already hazy vision, “fuck!”
Leaning even further back in his seat, he cocked his head, “I mean, I could also keep it a secret…” the tip of his tongue mischievously slipped out to poke his lip, “for the right price, that is.”
“Seriously?” you glared back at him, “are you serious right now?”
Capturing your hand, he swiftly brought it to the palpable tent in his pants, “do I not seem serious?” his eyes narrowed ever so slightly to a squint.
Your lips parted in shock, stare flickering away from his eyes to spot how he ever so slightly pressed your palm down against him.
He was so hard that you could nearly feel his pulse through the fabric of his trousers.
“I mean, really I’d be helping you out,” your gaze stayed glued to how his broad hand engulfed your own a moment longer before you glanced up to find his unwavering stare once more, “so you should really thank me for both keeping your secret and doing you such a massive favour…”
As a shaky breath escaped your lungs, you whispered once more, “I hate you…”
But the proclamation only conjured a smile to appear on his lips, “tell me again,” and he leaned in a bit closer.
“I hate y–,” but you didn’t get the last bit out as Rafe then crashed his lips against yours.
It took a second for you to react with anything other than a surprised whimper, but when you did, it was slow and cautious compared to his boldness.
A string of saliva strung you together as he eventually parted from you. Offering himself a small caress, he pressed your palm down against him one last time before he let you go. His breathing was heavy as he momentarily let his thumb trace your bottom lip, briefly slipping it crudely in your mouth, before uttering, “get inside.”
Why, after all of this time, after all of the pain and torture he alone made you go through, why did he still have to give you butterflies the way that he did?
It was your room that he led you to, a hand ever rooted on you as you made the journey. At first, you thought it was because he saw the way you occasionally stumbled over your own feet, but perhaps it was just in case you wanted to make a run for it, just a precaution, a safety net already halfway over you.
“Take your clothes off,” he commanded in a cold tone as he shut the door behind you.
“W-what?” you turned to look back at him.
Sitting down on the edge of your bed, he repeated, “take your clothes off,” though they came out sounding slightly impatient.
He palmed himself through his pants as you slowly began to strip. Though as you’d shyly peeled your t-shirt off and dropped it to the floor, his voice halted you just as you began to undo your jeans.
“Stop,” his voice cut the thick air like a knife, “turn around when you pull those down,” you twisted away from him as your thumbs sank into either side of the waistband, “and do it slowly,” he made you put on a show, ogling as you gradually revealed the curve of your ass, “that’s it…” he nearly moaned as your pants crumbles to the floor, “bra and panties too, princess. Unless of course, you’re backing out of our deal already.”
Clenching your jaw, you squeezed your eyes shut and shed the rest, ignoring his soft wolf whistles and crude comments as you exposed yourself.
Slowly turning back around to face him, your hands were clasped before you out of sheer timidness and not knowing what to do with them.
“You gonna stand over there all night?” he raised his chin slightly.
When your feet stood rooted right before his seated position on the bed, your hands began to fiddle as he pulled his shirt over his head and caused your pulse to somehow beat even harder than it already did.
One of his palms then scooped up your stomach and briefly grabbed one of your tits before scooping you closer, “come here,” and utilised his leverage to toss you down on the bed beside him, “let me get a good look at you.”
Grabbing for the bedsheets as the mattress momentarily bounced beneath your spine, you blinked up at Rafe as he sat next to you, twisting his form and craning down to near your core.
You tried to clamber your legs shut, embarrassed for what his cruel reaction might be, but he was not only faster, but stronger than you, and grabbed a hold of your thighs. As he split you apart, his lips curled up into a grin.
“Look at you… fuck,” he let out a short chuckle, “this is gonna be fun.”
A gasp curled out of your frame as he then grazed his thumb over your folds, smearing some of the mortifying wetness that seeped out and made you feel even more intoxicated than you already were. He lightly spread you apart and studied intently your dripping pussy, how it looked, how it glistened and how your little hole twitched when he lightly circled your clit.
“Oh, you like this, don’t you?” he rubbed your puffy pearl with a mean lightness that caused your hips to buck slightly, “you like it when your big stepbrother touches you like this?” but when you didn’t reply, he reached down and grabbed your jaw, angling it for you to meet his eye, “answer me.”
“I–… y-yes,” you quietly admitted, feeling as if you were in some strange dream.
“Of course you do, you dirty little girl,” he bent down again to gaze at your pussy a little too close for your taste, “I knew you were a slut since the moment I met you.”
Letting go of your face, he then snaked his free hand down to give himself an ounce of relief.
“You know, part of me doesn’t even wanna prep you with my fingers first,” he smirked and let his fingertips sweep down to tickle your entrance, “I like the idea of not stretching you out first and letting my cock do all the work, let it feel just how tiny and pure you are for me.”
“But isn’t that gonna hurt?” your breath caught in your throat. Sure, you’d played with yourself nearly till your hands fell off, but that idea still managed to scare you.
“God, I hope so,” he groaned and briefly leaned down to press a hot kiss to your clit, sucking it into his mouth and sloppily making out with it.
When he then stood up and pulled his pants down, your jaw nearly hit the floor as well when you saw how thick his dick was. Fat and veiny, curving proudly up towards his abs.
Seizing your hips, Rafe yanked you closer to where he stood, nearly letting your ass dangle over the edge of the mattress.
“Wait,” you suddenly reached out to touch his forearm as he gave himself a few lavish strokes, staring down at your cunt, comparing the obscene size of him to your puff, “what about a condom?” you squeaked as he flicked his leaking tip down to tap your core.
Sucking in a fierce breath through his nose, he glared down at you and shot back, “what about you shut the fuck up and just be grateful,” before he sent his open palm down to smack your pussy.
“Ah! I’m sorry, I just–, fuck!” you shuttered beneath him as he soothed the slap with the nudge of his length, rubbing it against you and teasing your cunt before he started sweeping it through your folds, nearly fucking your soppy slit, the tip of him kissing your little pearl on each silky advance.
A dollop of spit dropped from his lips and joined the mess he already tickled at between your parted legs.
“It’s too big…” you murmured as you stared down at how his fat girth parted your pretty petals, though the observation only conjured a smile on Rafe’s lips, “maybe you could just put the tip in?” you tried through your foggy mind, “that would still count.”
A rumbling chuckle bubbled out of him as he stared down at the two of you together, “just the tip…” his movements then grew more erratic as he slid through your folds, “is that all you think your little virgin cunt can handle?” shy gasps escaped you every time he deliberately let his cock catch at your opening, “just the tip?”
As he slowly pressed just the flush head of his length in to breach your entrance, your brows crinkled up at the mind-numbing stretch.
“Like that, baby?” he only moved ever so slightly, “is that all you think you can handle?” and you nodded foggily in return. But as you let your eyes flutter shut and breathed through the staggeringly wonderful sensation, Rafe’s voice once again washed over you, “nah,” like a splash of cold water while you were licking up warm sun rays, “that’s not good enough. This is,” and he then slammed the entirety of his length into you.
Your eyes instantly shot back open and your legs curled up even further on either side of you at the shock.
“What?” he cooed at you mockingly as he slowly dragged his dick back out for just the memory to remain, “does it hurt?”
You were a blubbering and cursing mess, trembling beneath him as your pussy tried to accommodate him.
“Come on, princess,” he bent down over you and let his nose ghost against yours, “tell me that it hurts.”
“It h-hurts,” you whimpered as his hot breath fanned across your blazing cheeks.
It did sting, a lot, but though you hated to admit it, a part of you loved it, a part of you sank even further into the pit of pleasure he so slowly dunked you into.
“Tell me that it’s too big for you,” he nuzzled his nose against yours as he plugged you back up.
Your body shook beneath his every time he moved as much as a millimetre inside you, “i-it’s too big.”
Letting out a low moan of satisfaction, he then leaned down to press his lips to yours, stealing your breath away even further.
You tried, but couldn’t really focus on kissing him back, not that he seemed to mind much as he moaned into your mouth, soon letting his sloppy kisses dance over your cheek and down your neck, letting hickeys bloom in his wake and mark up your skin like a brand.
As he sucked down on the spot where your pulse went wild beneath the skin, his hips drove against yours harder, causing them to collide in a sticky smack, as well as letting the tip of him bully the deepest part of you. He didn’t just do it once, but kept it up as he enjoyed the little squeaks you let out every time he bumped against your cervix.
Kissing his way back up to your lips, he only offered them the briefest of pecks before raising himself off of you, just ever so slightly, and one by one, grabbed your already wide-spread legs and rested each one of them onto his broad shoulders, efficiently folding you in half.
“H-holy shit,” you panted as the mattress rippled beneath you at every one of his rough thrusts, “Rafe–”
“Yeah?” he smirked down at your melted form, the vein in his forehead popping from the strain, “are you gonna cum? Are you gonna cum on your big bro’s dick?” one of his hands swept up to squeeze your tit, then gave it a swift tap before growling, “come on, princess. I can feel you squeezing me so fucking tight. Do it, I fucking dare you. Be a good girl and cum on my cock.”
You almost screamed as you tumbled over the edge, your head curling to the side to hide yourself in the crumbled duvet beneath you as your pussy gushed all over his fat girth.
“Oh, fuck,” Rafe croaked as he straightened back up to get a good view. Pulling out of you, he briefly flicked his dick through your folds to urge more of your nectar to leak out, before he slid it back inside and asked in amazement, “you ever squirted before?”
Trembling from the overstimulation, your eyes rolled in your skull as you shakily mumbled, “maybe twice, I think.”
“Such a good fucking slut,” he growled proudly, “squirting all over me like a proper whore. Just look at you,” his grip dented your thighs as he pressed them further down against the bed, “you’re already a pretty little cockdrunk mess.”
“I–, I–,” you blubbered as you felt drool begin to trickle down your cheek.
“Oh, fuck,” he then groaned, glancing down at where he split you apart, “hold your legs back,” he requested, though had to help your sluggish hands find their way, “look at this, baby,” he scooped a palm behind your head and ushered you to spot what he had noticed. Splaying a wide hand over the lower part of your stomach, he traced the faint bulge that rhythmically appeared, “sure as fuck not a virgin anymore, are you? Fucking ruining that perfect little pussy of yours. Now that’s how you pop a fucking cherry. Aren’t you happy I was in such a charitable mood tonight?” he then pressed down on the imprint rudely, the overwhelming sensation causing your pussy to drizzle a little more around him, “aren’t you, sis?”
“Yes,” you mewled, feeling as if you were floating on a cloud and not getting your guts rearranged.
“You’d let me do anything I’d fucking want, wouldn’t you?” he smirked down at your dazed form.
“Y-yes,” the word flowed out of you, though you couldn’t quite comprehend all of his dirty talk any longer.
“Hold on,” he briefly slowed down and stretched over to reach a small apprentice obscured and hidden in all of the cluttered decor on your nearby dresser. Turning it in his hand, he pointed the discrete camera down to film you, “say it again,” he picked his pace back up, “tell me that you’ll let me do anything I want to you.”
“Anything,” the words bubbled out through your moans, “anything you want.”
“Say that you’re my little slut.”
“I’m yours–, I-I’m your s-slut.”
Tilting the hidden camera down to get a few close-ups, his voice then seeped into you once more, “now tell me again that you hate me.”
One of your hands fluttered down and began to rub your puffy clit.
“I hate you.”
“Again,” he reached down to give your left nipple a harsh pinch.
“I hate you.”
“Keep going, princess.”
And the more times the phrase flowed out past your lips, the more it began to lose its meaning and morph into just another sound, one that was almost akin to the complete opposite kind of proclamation.
Just like you barely noticed when Rafe dug out the hidden camera, so too did you miss it when he put it back down, obscured somewhere among your things, possibly not even the only one.
When you came once again, Rafe didn’t so much as pause when you creamed around his cock and drenched the sheets beneath you that much further.
“There you fucking go,” he sent a palm down to smack the sensitive skin on your inner thigh, “god, you’re so hot. I can’t believe you actually let me do this,” he grinned as your fingers stretched out to graze his wild hips, trying and failing to slow him down, “you’re such a little freak,” he glanced down at the ring of your essence that marked the base of his throbbing cock, “so fucking nasty for your stepbrother. I bet you’d even let me keep using you after you fall asleep. I mean, who’s to say I haven’t already,” he chuckled, “you’re so fucking cute when you sleep. No annoying remarks, no dumb comments… I think I might prefer you that way…” his slamming grew sloppy as he soon moaned, “fuck, I’m gonna fucking cum.”
“Pull out,” you begged through your hazy pants.
And just when you thought he wouldn’t respect your wishes, he yanked out and furiously stroked himself before your winking and wrecked hole as it slowly retraced from the severe stretch. Moaning loudly, he swiftly painted your pussy with his load, getting it all over your puffy petals till he was panting above you. One hand rested on your thigh as he brushed the sensitive head of his cock over the cream, messily tapping the hefty weight of him against your aching clit and making you jump a few times as he smeared it in.
Throwing himself down on the bed beside you, he let out a long sigh and said, “you’re welcome.”
You felt like you couldn’t move, like you might never be able to move again. Your breath still came in ragged as the only thing you could focus on was the sore throbbing centred at your core, that blossomed out through the rest of your nerves.
“Well,” Rafe huffed as he soon lifted himself up to a sitting position, “night,” and without another word, slipped out through your shared bathroom into his own bedroom.
“I can’t believe they made you take me,” you grumbled as you watched Rafe shadow you in the clothing store, “I could have just gone to the mall on my own.”
“You don’t have a car though–, also, why are you the one complaining? I’m the one being forced to go fucking shopping with you of all people.”
Somehow, for some mysterious reason, since you’d moved into Tanny Hill, your collection of underwear had shrivelled down till you barely had enough to get you through the week. Guess that was the price you had to pay for letting someone else do your laundry, though you’d always assumed it would more just be a single sock that commonly vanished in the wash…
When you dipped into the fitting room to try a few of the gathered options on, you only managed to test out two of them before the curtain slid back open and you swiftly scrambled to cover yourself.
“Rafe!” you let out a hushed screech, “what do you think you’re–”
“Try these on,” he handed you a wide stack of hangers. It wasn’t just underwear dangling from them, but also some clothing, though all of it way too revealing than you were used to.
Glancing down at them, you refused to grasp the items and simply stated in a clear tone, “no.”
Letting out a low sigh, he then turned to close the curtain back up before he twisted back to face you, “do you need me to have a little talk with your mom and my dad?” he took a few steps towards you, slowly pushing you into the corner by the tall mirror.
Glaring back at him through your pout, you huffed, “no…”
You stayed in the corner as he then hung the clothing up on the hooks before taking a seat on the small stool where your purse was resting before he swept it to the floor.
“Are you just gonna sit there and watch?”
“Yeah,” he scoffed, “it’s boring as shit out there. At least in here, I might get a moderate amount of entertainment.”
Rolling your eyes, you reluctantly began to try the attire on.
“I hate thongs,” you muttered as you tugged a pair into place over your hip, trying not to catch your stepbrother’s stare as his gaze wandered from your reflection to the perfect view he had of your backside.
“I recall you hate a lot of things you still don’t hesitate to jump on.”
“Whatever,” you sighed, “you have your fun, enjoy this little fashion show, but I’m sure as hell not getting any of these.”
“Well, good,” he uttered demeaningly, “because I’m buying them for you.”
Catching his eye in the mirror, you told him, “I’m still not wearing them. You can’t make me.”
“Yeah,” he puffed out a smirk, “we’ll see about that,” and then tore his gaze away from you to gesture to one of the hangers, “try that dress on, but keep the pink thong on underneath, only the thong though.”
You had to shut your eyes in annoyance a moment before you fulfilled his request, soon standing before him in a scantily cut, pastel mini dress, crafted in a fabric so thin that you could see the faint shadow of your nipples poking through them, especially after they’d turned all pebbly after Rafe had torn that privacy curtain to the side.
“You happy now?” you turned to face him and propped your hands on either side of your hips.
“Hm,” he cockily pursed his lips as his gaze studied you, “I was right…”
Your brows stayed furrowed till you watched his palm slide down to squeeze himself through his shorts.
“What are you doing?” you hissed, eyes growing wide.
“You do look hot in normal clothes.”
“I don’t think any of this is normal…”
“I think it’s time you learned how to suck a cock,” he suddenly announced, eyes still glued to the dress’ low neckline as he unzipped his slacks.
“Rafe…” you breathed.
His eyes flickered up to find yours, “get on your knees,” he tilted his head, “come on, princess. You’ll love it, trust me.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble
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