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juniperskye · 2 days ago
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You’ll Get What’s Coming.
POTENTIAL TLOU SPOILERS!!! This is just a lil blurb about your reaction to Joels death. With all the images coming out of Pedro in season two…I’ve been mentally preparing myself and this came to mind!
Joel Miller x Fem Reader
Word count: 553
REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!
Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, Fem reader, major character death, murder, canon typical violence. Explicit language, let me know if I missed any!
I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.
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Okay…So imagine you showed up with Ellie to witness Joel’s death. You’re being held down by members of Abby’s group. Thrashing around as hard as you can to get free in hopes of saving Joel.
“STOP! PLEASE STOP! LET US GO!” You plead.
“You’re gonna fucking die! Ellie screams.
“Kill me instead! Let him go!” You offer.
Abby shakes her head, having already made her choice. When Owen barges in demanding they get out of there. He worried that the rest of Jackson is going to come searching for you guys and likely kill them. They aren’t exactly wrong to worry.
“Let him go. Let him go!” Ellie begs.
--
“You’re done.” Owen growls.
“You want what I want, right?” Abby counters.
“End it. Now.” Owen concludes.
Everyone takes a tentative step away, Abby tightens her grip on the golf club, tears stream down your face as you prepare for the worst.
“Joel get up…Joel, fucking get up. Please stop! Please don’t do this…Joel, please get up!”
“Joel! Baby please you have to get up! Please let us go! Joel!”
With that Abby raises the golf club and brings it down. Successfully killing her target.
“NOOO!” Ellie cries.
“JOELLLL!” You’re sobbing at this point. “You fucking bitch! I will kill you!”
--
For reasons you will never understand, Abby let Tommy, Ellie, and you go that day. Since then, you have made it your life’s mission to track her down and kill her. Tommy was right there with you despite Maria’s protests.
“I got some intel…we might have Abby’s location.” Tommy informed you.
“Good! When do we leave?”
“First thing.” He stated.
“Are you sure you want to do this? Ellie asks.
“I’m positive. She took everything from me, and I am going to make sure she get’s hers in the end.” You said with finality.
--
Tommy’s intel had proven right. You had managed to track Abby down. The two of you had discussed your plan which was to kill everyone who was involved that day and when you found her, Tommy knew to let you pull the trigger. Joel may have been his brother, but he was your everything and he could understand that feeling.
“Ready?” Tommy asked.
“As I’ll ever be.”
The two of you made your way through the compound they’d taken over. Slowly but surely taking them out one-by-one. You were making your way down a long corridor when you heard voices, a man and a woman…you assumed it had to be Abby and Owen. They sounded frantic, trying to plan their escape from your tirade.
Tommy kicked the door in and immediately fired a shot at Owen. He dropped to the floor; Tommy made his way over to him and you stepped in behind Tommy. He was quick to fire another shot to Owen’s head.
You held your gun up in front of you, pointing it directly at Abby.
“Please! You have to understand! He killed my father. My only family!” Abby tried to gain sympathy.
“Your father was trying to kill an innocent child.” You spat.
“He was trying to save us!”
“And Joel was trying to save Ellie. Her life isn’t less significant than anyone else’s.” You explained.
“Please! He was my father!” Abby pleaded.
“And Joel was my husband.” You spoke, pulling the trigger.
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aricarianis · 3 days ago
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Mask and Mirror | AO3 Simon "Ghost" Riley / Female Character Rape/Non-con, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Predator/Prey, Stalking, Violence, Aggression, Choking.
THIS IS A HORROR STORY. Chapter 1: The Stranger In The Shadows Estimated reading time: 19 minutes.
There are only two rules on Halloween: have fun, and watch out for the freaks.
When an unassuming girl tries to lose the masked stranger stalking her on Halloween night, a spine-chilling game of cat and mouse begins. Each encounter grows more dangerous and intimate, blurring the lines between predator and prey. As tension and terror build, it’s only a matter of time before one of them is forced to surrender—if they make it out at all.
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The last autumn breeze brushed past a face that dared to be uncovered on All Hallow’s Eve.
It was cold enough to signal the onset of the darkest season, but not quite enough to force girls into warm clothing. Halloween was the one night where inhibitions faded and impulses ruled. For her, it was also the last chance to have some fun—pull a trick, take home a treat.
Confined in the soft cage of her mermaid costume, she made her best effort to walk quickly, scanning the crowd for familiar faces. Partygoers brushed past in waves of theatrical ensembles. In the flashing lights and dark street corners, it was too easy to lose sight of someone. Which pair of wings or which set of bunny ears belongs to whom is anyone’s guess.
She, on the other hand, was hard to lose sight of. Being a mermaid for Halloween was hardly a groundbreaking idea, but the looks of disgust directed at her spoke for themselves. Most mermaids weren’t pallid, perpetually damp and slimy. Their costumes weren’t covered in a mucuous dark liquid that spread to their skin like a filthy sea rash. Their hair wasn’t tangled like seaweed, with nails as sharp as broken shells.
If philosophers who believe humans are inherently bad are correct, and goodness is just a layer people wear each day, then stripping that layer away should keep others at bay. No one should want to come close to something that looks deliberately sickly and unnerving.
No one but the man that kept trailing her, ignoring the warning signs.
Some might argue that being chased by a freak is part of the Halloween experience. After all, it’s the night when masks allow people to wear their ugliness openly, when the veil between real and imaginary gets a little too thin. Good people feel free to be a little bad, and bad people feel free to make the night of horrors live up to its name.
There’s a strange type of comfort about being at a Halloween parade, with celebrations and bonfires that have existed long before our time. The fake blood, the rusty houses, the dirty streets; air heavy with possibility. Any shoulder bumped against could open a door to the unknown. The music—too loud to let screams through. The people—too drunk to perceive danger before it’s too late. Anyone running past could be having fun or could be in genuine danger. Nothing seems safe, and that liminal space of perception, that limbo between bliss and horror that permeates every corner of Halloween night, is what keeps us coming back to celebrate death—as a reminder we’re alive.
Experiencing that limbo is Halloween’s ultimate allure. But sometimes the fantasy breaks, the veil lifts, and you realize that the danger isn’t imaginary.
The burn she felt in her legs as she tried to lose him in the crowd was real enough.
He stayed close despite the ever growing mob.
She grabbed her phone to call her friends once again. It seemed futile with all the noise, yet she tried. After a few minutes, a familiar voice cut through the buzz and made its way to her.
“Mae!” Her friend’s wings bounced as she waved enthusiastically.
Mae pushed through the crowd to get to her newfound safe haven.
“I told you not to call me that in public.”
“It’s short for mermaid—”
“No, it isn’t.”
“And… it’s just for tonight. It’s not safe to give our real names to strangers, you know that. Tonight, you’re Mae and I’m… Fae.”
Mae gave a light chuckle and nodded in agreement.
“Fake names aren’t much of a safety guarantee, I tell you that,” she said while looking around, but there was no sign of the man. She leaned in, close enough for her words to be just between them.
“I saw him.”
Fae turned to look at Mae, the gleam in her eyes matching the glitter on her lids. “Are you sure? There are a lot of masked people here.”
“I’d recognize that skull mask anywhere.”
A loud smash rang out, and the sharp echo of broken glass traveled the air alongside slurred insults—a brewing brawl. Suddenly, bodies pushed against one another like schooling fish. Mae grabbed onto Fae’s wrist, and as Fae’s eyes trailed up, Mae knew whose hand lay on her stomach. She felt the warmth of a body pressing against her, solid and unyielding; his form swallowing hers completely.
For a second, time stopped. She lifted her head, glancing over her shoulder to meet his eyes—dark as the night sky behind him. Her jaw clenched, anger bubbling up at her own vulnerability. She could’ve sworn she saw a movement, a slight raise of his cheeks behind the mask. Time resumed. A change of position, an unknown push, Fae’s other arm finding hers. Gone.
A man his size shouldn’t be able to vanish so easily.
“We need to get the others! Where’s your phone?  Mine's in Jennifer’s purse.” Fae raised her voice as the agitated horde pushed them to the sidewalk.
“Jennifer doesn’t get a fake name?” The confusion in Mae’s tone turned to heaviness as she searched her purse.
“My creativity only goes so far,” Fae replied. ��Come on, give it to me.”
“It’s not here.”
“What do you mean? You just had it.”
“Yeah, I did, but I-I can’t find it. I swear, it was right here, it must’ve…” Mae trailed off, scanning the ground, hoping her phone would somehow be there, though deep down, she already knew it wouldn’t.
Their eyes met. The knowing exchange spoke before they could.
“The girls were at the bar at the end of the street when I left to look for you,” Fae said first, nodding toward the direction. “We can start there.”
“We have to get my phone back.”
“It could be just some creep trying to get your attention—”
“Now he has it.” Mae’s anger simmered back up.
“Or... it could be someone trying to hurt you,” Fae said softly, as if assessing her friend’s next step. “You've never had to deal with one like him before.”
“Well… I’ve always loved first times.”
Mae grabbed Fae’s wrist and led the way, her grip tightening as they squeezed through the last of the crowd toward the bar. The quick steps confined in her costume made her legs burn again—a sensation she now knew all too well, and only because of him.
Costumed folks packed the bar, as the air hung thick with booze and bad decisions. In their corner, Mae stared blankly at the far wall, hardly listening as Fae recounted the story. Something in Fae’s tone—how she spun it like a fairytale rather than the gruesome folk legend it truly was—kept Mae’s anger simmering beneath the surface.
“AGAIN?” Tammie’s disbelief pulled Mae back into the moment. Jennifer signaled for her to keep it down, holding the phone to her ear. Tammie leaned in, repeating more quietly, “Again? How many times now, three?”
“Five,” Mae snapped, her voice tight with frustration. “Son of a bitch has followed me five times in three weeks.”
“Not used to a little attention, huh?” Jennifer smirked, clearly savoring the drama. “I told you to do something about it on the third time.”
Mae rolled her eyes. “I didn’t think it’d go this far, Jen. The guy just seemed like a random creep, not a—”
“Stalker?” Tammie finished, crossing her arms. Her usual easygoing demeanor shifted to one of concern.
Silence settled around them, despite the rowdy bar.
“Nothing?” Tammie asked Jennifer, signaling toward the phone.
Jennifer shook her head, the phone still glued to her ear.
“It’s not too late to let it go, babe,” Fae’s soft tone came back as she caressed Mae’s arm. “You’re the last person to go into things without a plan.”
Mae clenched her jaw. “You know damn well he can’t keep that phone—“
“Hello?” Jennifer blurted, eyes wide. “Can you hear me?”
The girls all turned to her, holding their breaths expectantly. Jennifer furrowed her brows as she turned to look at Mae, sharing a glance of mutual confusion before passing the phone to her.
“Hello?” Mae’s voice grew tense, eyes narrowing. “Yes, yes I understand—”
The girls scanned Mae’s face for some hint of explanation, but got nothing. They couldn’t find reassurance in each others’ worried expressions either.
“Why are you…” Her expression shifted from disbelief to irritation. “I understand… Simon.”
Mae handed the phone back, feeling discomfort permeate her body, and watching the girls’ faces contort with anger as they reacted to what she’d just heard.
The Haunted House. Fifteen minutes. Alone.
Despite their protests, the girls reluctantly agreed to let Mae go. It was a public space, after all, and he’d never tried anything dangerous while in a crowd. Maybe it’d be a simple exchange, a creepy way to ask for her number. But what were the odds?
Something weird happens once, it’s an accident. Twice, a coincidence. Three times, a pattern. By the fifth time, it’s hard not to think of it as a threat.
Simon didn’t mind to be seen as a threat; he’d learned early that his quiet intensity threw people off. The way he scanned the most unassuming places, how his every step was measured, balanced; movements so controlled they felt artistic—a dancer gliding across a shadowed ballroom.
Big guys like him were supposed to soften the edges, to show their faces, smile, make themselves smaller. But that wasn’t his training. That wasn’t who he was. Each time he chose not to wear the layers people expected, it was as if they could smell the blood on him, no matter how long it had been washed off. He’d made a living off of realizing his threats, and he was one of the best.
Of course, his nature became a hindrance when he craved human contact, which is why dating was off the table. He fulfilled his desires on other bodies, but never looked for love in them. Love is the most volatile element in any situation, and to be as good as him, you have to give up anything uncertain. In his line of work, predictability is the key between life and death.
He spent most of his free time roaming around the towns his team was stationed at, not only scanning places but people. How they moved, how they talked. The joyful screams of kids when their fathers picked them up. The wrinkles deepening on old ladies’ faces as their husbands repeated the same old stories. How deep a lass bit into the caramel apple she shared with her friend. The way her lips moved and gleamed. How the wind carried the earthy aroma of the forest, the sweet scent of the treat, and her. How she strangely caught his gaze and stared back, longer than anyone would, waving slowly as her sharp nails cut through the air.
There was something off about her, something under the surface. Like touching a wall warmed by the day's sun, even though night has fallen. Or standing outside a seemingly calm room, only to hear faint screaming as a prisoner denies information. Things you’d only catch if you’re watching closely. Attention you only pay to what you’re familiar with.
He trailed her for the first time after she went back for a second caramel apple. The second time was at the local mini-market, her cart stocked with an expensive brand of wine. The third time, he saw her loading luggage into the boot of her car at two in the morning. The fourth was at a restaurant, where she laughed with a group of men, and he sent a bottle of that same wine to her table. The fifth time, he stepped in between her and a street brawl, adrenaline rushing through his veins like a long-lost pulse. His grip on her wasn’t protective; it was a taste of control.
He stared at her phone, patiently counting down the fifteen minutes. Strange how her entire world was just a numerical combination away. Each time the screen lit up with the names of other men, something in him twisted tight. None of them knew her like he did. Did they see how the light made her caramel-stained lips glisten? Taste the remnants of expensive wine lingering on her tongue? Feel the sting of her sharp nails as they left marks that only he could reciprocate?
On that first night, he stared into the void, and the void didn’t flinch—it stared harder and waved back. Unbroken. Defiant. He can’t afford to crave affection, so he made it his mission to watch her surrender. The quiet command in her eyes fueled the mad man within, and he’d treat her like any opponent: study her, approach her, break her.
The most quiet houses often turn out to be the scariest. They look mundane, traditional—the kind of place where a family would lead a regular life. Yet, that façade can be enough to hide the horror inside. Domestic privacy becomes the foundation for a certain brand evil, one that allows fear to fester like mold. Modest walls turn into breeding grounds for monstrosity. Haunted houses, then, are symbols of honesty, of all the decay and abandonment humans are capable of creating.
There’s not a more honest month than October. As Mae entered the local honesty spot, cobwebs danced to the sounds of wood groaning against wind. Plastic spiders and makeshift ghosts welcomed passersby as the flickering jack-o’-lanterns showed them the way. The man inside might as well be another haunted attraction.
The draped black cloth on the walls served as a backdrop for the fake fog swirling at ankle height, forcing Mae to watch her every step. She carefully navigated each room, searching for the skull mask she now knew too well, and the man behind it. The loud whirrs of animatronic witches and the sudden clatter of popping skeletons set her nerves on edge, as if warning her about the last room in the upstairs hallway.
The sign on the door made it clear—that place wasn’t part of the attraction. It was a makeshift storage room for personal belongings, a reminder that the house wasn’t haunted for eleven months of the year. As she peeked inside, her gaze swept across the room until she made out his form. He was staring at a portrait cramped on top of a dresser, next to other family items. A man, a woman, two happy girls and a dog. Normal, certain—an unusual type of predictability for him. He seemed at ease, peaceful. For a moment, his imposing frame and odd behavior seemed almost misunderstood. A view shaped by a pessimism she knew too well.
That feeling lasted until he looked over his shoulder and met her eyes. The way the light seemed to retreat from his gaze as it bore into her soul meant, this time, she was right to assume the worst.
“Give it back.” She stood on the doorway, palm open in demand.
He remained in place as if he were part of the furniture.
“Look,” her sharp gaze signaling an anger that never went away “I don’t know who you are or what you want. If you’re just some weirdo freak who doesn’t know how to ask a girl out, fine.”
She gave him a split second to react, to show that she had read him right. He was stone.
“But if you’re here because you think you can intimidate me—”
His arm shot out, slamming the door behind her. Right hand digging into her jaw; the left tangled in her hair. Her skull met the door with a sharp crack, and the room spun in the echo of her interrupted words. Yet the weight of his body wasn’t enough to crush her defiance.
“—means you haven’t learned anything from all the stalking.” Her voice barely cut through the ringing in her ears. Pain seared through her head, but she clenched her jaw, forcing herself to hold his gaze.
His hot breath cut through the cold air in shallow bursts—not from exertion, but from something raw and primal: rage fused with obsession and desire. He tightened the grip on her hair as his right hand slid to her throat, squeezing just enough to make it clear she was not in charge. Her eyes widened, a short gasp escaping her lips, and he took her parted mouth as an invitation to close in, their lips brushing against the rough texture of the mask.
“I learned that this,” he spoke into her mouth, his grip tightening around her throat, “is what you needed. You needed someone to control your disobedience.”
Mae furrowed her eyebrows in complete confusion. The weight of Simon’s words twisted something in her stomach, making each exhale heavier than the inhale that preceded it. Nausea creeped in and she felt a wave of tingles on her nose—a sign that his twisted reasoning was taking root.
As the first tears welled in her eyes, he let out an amused chuckle and released her throat. The sudden rush of air into her lungs stung, and she gasped sharply, a sound that turned into an unsteady wail as she noticed his gaze dropping lower. A chill surged through her before she even registered his free, rock hard member pressing against her stomach. It was as if the room itself contracted around her, suffocating with its silence. The veil had lifted—this horror was real.
Her body jerked reflexively, muscles going taut as a wire. Simon’s free hand moved down her skirt, fingers searching for her entrance with a methodical, invasive precision that made her skin crawl. Jackpot. He stroked over her folds, rubbing rough circles on her clit to get her body to react as it would if she were a willing player in this scenario. Her mind raced in an attempt to pinpoint what she could have done to deserve this. But she knew better. This wasn’t her fault, even if the terror whispered otherwise. This was what happened when you brushed too close to people like Simon—quiet beasts that reeked of blood.
“S-Stop, please, Simon, I—“
“Are so wet f’me,” a smug tone on his voice. “Gonna say you don’t want this, luv? Cunt dripping all over my hand and you’re gonna lie?”
Even overwhelmed, Mae’s mind searched for options. She was the last person to go into things without a plan. The first step was to slow down her breath—hard to do when Simon was already using her wetness to bully his thick digits into her; each stroke drawing a hum of approval from him. He rested his head in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent as if to answer one of the many questions he had about her. His hot breath, the weight of his body, his rough movements—all filled her senses. Yet she had to find ways to ground herself in the bleak present, to craft the perfect opportunity for an escape.
Mae shifted slightly, feeling the solid surface of the door pressing into her back. The faint steps of the last visitors leaving the house echoed from somewhere distant, signaling that they were alone. She closed her eyes briefly, recalling the layout of the house from her earlier tour. If she timed it right, there was still a chance.
Drawing a breath, she softened her expression, letting her hands move to Simon’s hips. His eyes lit up with a twisted satisfaction as she began to trace her fingers around his cock. “See?” he murmured, his voice low and triumphant. “Just needed some obedience fucked into you.”
But the look in her eyes was anything but submissive. In a sudden, decisive move, Mae clamped her teeth down on the exposed skin of his neck while her nails—sharp as broken shells—raked into his balls. Simon's eyes widened in shock, his grip faltering just enough for her to push her full weight against him. She managed to break the distance between them, the momentum sending him stumbling backward.
The reprieve was brief. He swung back with a brutal slap that cracked like thunder against her face, the force disorienting her and leaving a burning trail of pain that echoed through her skull. She staggered, vision blurring and darkness creeping at the edges, but she didn't let the agony stop her. Mae bolted for the hallway, every muscle straining as she tore through the space and spotted the back door.
Simon’s roar followed, along with the heavy thud of his boots closing in as he wiped the blood dripping from the bite. But she was already out, sprinting toward the woods, the cool night air biting at her skin while an all too familiar burn crept back up her legs.
Trees blurred past in quick flashes, yet Simon’s footsteps were nearly soundless. His breath was steady, pulse in perfect control. The forest was his ballroom, and he moved like a seasoned dancer, leaving no trail behind him despite the thrill of the hunt. Twigs snapped nearby, a deep rustle to his left, a faint crunch to his right. Probably a deer, maybe a bear. To an untrained ear, the woods were brown noise; to him, an orchestra conducting his every step.
The darkness had no effect on him; his trained instincts led the way with ease. He paused, sensing her movements through the undergrowth—chaotic, erratic. Naive girls who think they can escape if they draw a little blood. He knew exactly where she was headed; her scent lingered in his system. He tilted his head to the left, eyes tracking to the right. A footfall right ahead. Jackpot.
Her messy disposition blended seamlessly with the chaos of the woodland. Breathless, disheveled, defeated—a creature in unfamiliar territory. Fish out of water.
She stood a few feet away, slightly hunched in surrender, a stark contrast to her usual proud self. Too easy. A faint prick of unease nudged at the back of Simon’s mind; after all, she had drawn blood the last time he got too close. Still, he pushed forward. He couldn’t have misjudged a simple chase. He was too skilled, too well-trained. One of the best.
He moved patiently over the foliage, cautious as if not to startle a wild animal. She remained still, vulnerable, accepting whatever fate Simon had prepared for her. One step, not too far. Another, closing in. Third step. Loud woosh. Acute pain. A bear trap. Suddenly, a fierce electric sting shot through his limbs, his own body turning against him. A taser. Muscles locked, forcing him into uncontrollable spasms. His back scraped against the rough ground as disorientation set in, making him oblivious to the shadows slipping into his blind spot.
Before he could react, his arms were forced back, wrists bound tightly together. The harsh scratch against his skin warned him of how little time he had before he was fully restrained. He struggled against the bear trap clamping his leg—a painful inconvenience—while the bindings around his wrists constricted further, vertical loops added to prevent any twisting escape. Smart.
Without wasting a moment, they secured his wrists to his waist and loosely bound his elbows, preventing any upward movement even if he managed to wriggle. With his limited upper body strength, finding leverage seemed impossible. The bear trap made it easier for them to restrain his legs, rope wrapping tightly around his lower thighs and knees. To finish the job, they pushed him against a tree, encircling his torso with the final length of rope, fully immobilizing him. As they stood at his feet, admiring their handiwork, a sinking realization settled in—he recognized the three familiar faces. Loyal friends she has.
“Should we get it out?” Jennifer asked, panting lightly as she examined the extent of his leg injury, her expression focused.
“I’m not done with him yet,” Mae retorted, monotone as she bore into his eyes.
“What are you gonna do, babe?” Fae interjected, concern etched across her face, but it wasn’t enough to sway Mae’s resolve.
“Nothing he hasn’t done first.”
Simon watched as the women faded into the forest, leaving him at Mae’s mercy. His uneven breath and racing pulse revealed his disbelief, body heating with the anger of being caught in this situation.
“Good show, lass. Am I bear snack now?” Simon scoffed, his need to regain the upper hand surfacing, even if it was futile.
“Was that your plan for me?”
“Yeah… and I was the bear.”
Mae nudged the trap with her foot, drawing a low grunt from Simon. “You were.”
“You’re a proper nutter, you know that?” His breaths grew shallow and rapid, betraying his frustration.
Mae bent at the waist, lowering herself until her face was just inches away from his. Her gaze steady and unyielding. The void staring back. "Birds of a feather, aren’t we?"
With a swift motion, she tore his mask off and stuffed it into his mouth. Shallow and deep scars littered his face, moonlight glinting over each mark. His nose was crooked, broken one too many times. His eyes—dark, bottomless—widened as he watched her slowly remove her costume, piece by piece. Confusion and dread seeped into him as he struggled to anticipate her next move, to guess what trick she’d pull.
The light traced her form, hugging the curves and lines of her body. Soft yet firm, peaks and valleys of pure poetry that relaxed him at the sight—first time in too long.
She leaned down, straddling his lap, her hands slipping between them as they stared into each other’s eyes. Simon furrowed his brows as he felt a pull on his hips. He dropped his gaze to see his pants halfway down his thighs, his member firmly in her hand. She began to stroke it, slowly, feeling the pull of his skin under her touch. “Is this what you wanted?”
Simon grunted, unintelligible, as the mask suffocated his words, his forehead creased in confusion. His body reacted as if it had disconnected from his mind, unaware that this was not how it was supposed to happen.
“I thought you wanted to control me,” Mae sneered as she picked up speed. “You can’t even control yourself.”
Simon took a deep breath as he felt his cock swell under the friction. He struggled to regain composure, to remind himself who was in charge. This was a game—a game he could easily win if he could keep his impulses in check. Keeping his cool under life-threatening situations was part of his job; this should be no different. He was too skilled, too well-trained. One of the bes—
“Open your eyes,” Mae commanded, and Simon obliged, not even realizing when he had closed them. With practiced ease, she pooled saliva at the back of her throat, letting it gather at the tip of her tongue before she opened her mouth—thick strand glistening in the light before landing on the tip of his cock.
Simon could only respond with deep, muffled groans, his face contorted in rage. This was not how it was supposed to go. Veins bulged along his member, which at this point was fully engaged. Precum leaked as he shook his head in frustration, ashamed at how his body betrayed him, welcoming the assault even as his mind rebelled.
Mae raised herself slightly, adjusting his angry red tip right at her entrance, still wet from the earlier invasion. With a slow, methodical movement, she crouched down, easing his thickness into her cunt—tight and fluttering at the incursion. It was massive, almost impossible, the type of weapon used to bring more harm than peace. She shuddered at the thought of how things might have played out were she still under Simon’s reign, yet she remained impassive. “Control yourself.”
Simon’s brows furrowed in plea as he struggled against the ropes—desperate, confused, guilty. He was overwhelmed at the detachment, at how all the physical sensations were there but his mind couldn’t enjoy it. He just wanted out.
Mae picked up the pace as she squatted on his lap, walls spasming at the forced entrance. She could feel him in her bones, splitting her open, invading even when he was out of control. It wasn’t as comfortable as it could be, but it was worth it for his look of terror alone.
He felt dizzy as she fucked him so hard his back scorched against the tree. His pulse pounded in his ears, her warmth and slick mirroring the heat pooling in places he wished it wouldn’t. Simon squirmed, his eyes pleading with Mae to stop as he teetered on the edge of orgasm.
“Control your fucking self!” Mae shouted, her voice brimming with rage. “This is your fault. This is what you made me do!”
Her hands clamped around his throat, surgical, cutting off just enough airflow to push him toward unconsciousness. To Simon, her intentions seemed far more sinister. He let out a hoarse scream, overwhelmed by a surge of anxiety, shame, and a fear he hadn’t felt in years. Her hips plunged, the familiar burn creeping up on her legs as her cunt choked him—violent thrusts sprinting towards the end, demanding. Shockwave. He twitched and grunted as the climax spread across his body, the impact reverberating through them both. His cum leaked from her pussy as the realization dawned—he had severely underestimated his opponent.
As Mae’s movements slowed, her grip around his throat tightened. She watched as his eyes grew heavy, each blink longer than the last, while a disorienting fog clouded his mind.
“Do you know why people wear masks on Halloween?” Mae asked, her voice as calm as rocks in a seastorm.
Simon squinted in confusion, his body going slack beneath her hold. A tremor rippled through his limbs, marking the last moments of resistance before surrender.
“They believed the line between the world of the living and the dead blurred, and that spirits could walk the earth. They started wearing masks because they thought they could protect themselves from evil by blending in,” she continued, her tone hypnotic. “But, you see, we don’t know what evil looks like.”
His eyes fluttered, unfocused, a final shudder running through him as he hovered at the edge of darkness. The moment hung suspended, enough for Mae’s voice to cut through one last time before he slipped entirely into the void.
“Would you be scared of the boogeyman if he looked like me?”
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wardengrill · 3 months ago
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It's a boy!
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rxttenfish · 1 month ago
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merfolk in general are just. horrible horrible polyglots. their brains are already hardwired for language and quick language acquisition that remains active all their lives, further helped by retaining a high neural plasticity for their long lives, and especially enjoy complex language and language-based play and problem solving. but they also tend to have a lot of their society arranged where there's often multiple different languages at play within the same area, and only really stops being so once you get into especially small villages that have below the merfolk norm for outside contact. every merfolk alive today knows at least two languages, but most of them know far more than that, especially because one of those two will be the common-technical language. its been standardized and wide-scale implemented across the merkingdom after their dominance, to help bridge the gap between these different languages, basically as a successful version of esperanto. but its a trade language, and is mostly used for information you might want to reach as many people as possible, such as laws or business dealings or public announcements or the like. most merfolk don't view it as and don't treat it as a language proper, and its not what they prefer to converse in if they have another choice, usually finding it pretty limiting and restrictive, which is why its called common-technical.
miranda, being a royal who is regularly in contact with many different people around the merkingdom and regularly expected to be fully able to converse with them to do her job, knows just. so many languages. i might be changing exactly how many soon, but last time i counted it was in the low teens. like its just a perfect storm of her brain being wired for swift language acquisition and having a job that requires it and a position that means shes constantly around people from all around the merkingdom. not to mention having to know english too, which isn't just not her first language, it's not even her fourth language.
meanwhile, aaravi knows english and a little bit of hindi, less because of her mother and moreso because of her nana... its not that her mother never used it with her, but she was. less focused on using it or teaching aaravi, let's say. nana mishra uses it a lot more and is more interested in teaching aaravi when she asks her, especially in the intermittent period after her mom died and nana mishra was able to come back into her life to help aaravi pick up the pieces (though not after aaravi kind of. got left on her own. for an unfortunate amount of time). its just also fallen by the wayside with aaravi's whole Everything Else and kind of having a hard time accepting her nana's help and kind of being terrified of her (of no fault of her nana's, aaravi's just. she's just really traumatized after Everything, alright. having someone try to offer her help afterwards, especially when aaravi's scared of getting singled out as half human and half monster, is just. it's not something she can bring herself to trust.)
#all the care guide says is 'biomass'#miravi.txt#aaravi doesn't trust people doesn't like people doesn't want to be around people#there's a reason she and miranda mutually trusted each other more in immediately having an antagonistic relationship#and its because she just can NOT trust any freely offered help#it HAS to come with a stipulation or a catch#and it was easier if she felt like miranda was presenting the catch upfront#like say what you will about miranda#but she IS someone who screams ''you CANNOT trust me'' on first brush#and exactly in the way you expect: the merkingdom#its not very hidden at all its just not clear which WAY itll fuck someone up#which is ironically also why miri gets frustrated if she feels like someone trusts her too immediately#because like#its right there#can you not figure it out. do you not realize shes got other stuff attached to her. that you shouldnt fall for the bait immediately.#can you not see the hook she'll catch you on. can you not even see her for that much that she is.#this isnt against her role as a royal its a part of it too tbh#the image she presents is very much intentionally both alluring and threatening#awe and fear you know#the royal family wants to be beautiful and great and impressive and far more than you will ever be#and they want you to know if you step a toe out of line they will destroy you utterly and parade your corpse through the streets#its not a paradox its very intentional to keep people on a leash#its just the landfolk who seem to forget that her position as princess is also an implicit threat#which is all distinct from when she wants to be silly and carefree and just maybe. free from that need to always behave properly.#which ironically aaravi also seems to hit far more accurately than anyone else#because she doesnt just want to discard the latter. she wants to discard the former too.#which is why aaravi often teases her at the same time and pokes and prods her#its a playful vulnerability you know. if shes not being threatening shes not being too impressive to touch either.#she wants to roll on the ground and for you to call her so pretty and a silly princess and to get lightly wrestled#you know. its two different things.
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aengelren · 1 year ago
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I need you all to talk about this. I need you all to use every platform you have. Supporting palestine doesn’t mean you’re anti jew in any way, shape or form. They bombed a christian hospital and killed 700 kids, a mosque for people seeking shelter. 50% of the population in gaza are under 18 years old. Let that sink in. They are murdering CHILDREN. This is genocide. This is a disgrace towards humanity. I want you to use your voice.
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I just want Emily Prentiss as a mom so bad. Is that too much to ask for?
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beyondthegame · 1 year ago
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I'm so excited for this game. I detest sports, but I love reading sports books like Carrie soto is back. I wanna start creating my mc and I was wondering what the personality stats would look like if it's not too much of a spoiler if it cannot be answered due to spoilers then it's completely no problem at all! ❤️❤️
Thank you. I adore Carrie Soto Is Back and the book inspired this story! <3
The mc’s personality is split into personality and behaviour. For personality there’s: friendly/stoic, genuine/sarcastic, shy/confident, selfless/self absorbed, humorous/serious, optimistic/pessimistic.
For behaviour there’s: professional/relaxed, obedient/rebellious, humble/arrogant.
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iholli · 9 months ago
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trying desperately to keep it together knowing all I'm doing is slapping flextape over holes in the Titanic and having absolutely no one to ask for help 👌
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nilesmoon · 2 years ago
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I have 2 really important things to happen in a stormbringer squad reunion
1. shirase punches dazais face in for 'abandoning his bro'
2. adam learns that verlaine is still alive and they have gay sex
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for the ask game, maria if no one’s asked you her yet!! otherwise van zieks?
Neither have been asked, so you get both! Under a cut because it turned out lengthy
Maria:
Sexuality headcanon: about 90% aro, and either lesbian or bi. either way, wlw
Gender headcanon: girl, but if she had access to the term, demigirl might resonate
A ship I have: I've resigned myself to Goulstrade rarepair hell. also maybe a little short-term maryu—*gets shot*
BROTP: haori!!!! weird girl chaos hours
NOTP: as long as it's within reason, and people in her age range ofc, i'm good
A random headcanon: she loves loves poetry and literature of all sorts, but she doesn't talk about it much. she also learned to sew those little dolls from her mother. she sews most of her own clothes, too, seeing as she's very picky! also, on a less related note, i do have a passion for collecting pictures of goth late Victorian/early Edwardian outfits that would suit her taste ^_^
General opinion over said character: *incoherent screaming* (positive)
Barok
Sexuality headcanon: aroace! he's just like me fr. he might experience alterous attraction though.
Gender headcanon: cis, but over time Iris gets to know him and she has much more fluid concepts of gender, so he starts to think about it and question gender a little more
A ship I have: none
BROTP: Ryuunosuke. I don't know if BROTP is the right word, but them being friends post-canon is such a funny concept that I can't help but I love it
NOTP: V*nlock. sorry to my besties who enjoy it; you're based as hell! honestly, I just find their relationship 10x funnier if it's never explained EDIT: I completely forgot about bar*so and bar*ryuu! Those are much stronger NOTPs for me personally
Random headcanon: this is partially based off of a lovely hc by @angomay, but I think Iris takes him on a flight on her very own plane one day! This grown ass man is fearing for his life, but he just can't turn Iris down rip
General opinion: he's my worstie! i want to make sure he's staying hydrated and getting some sunlight, but i also want to bully him for amusement.
also, my hot take is that if he becomes a part of Iris' family, it cannot be because of blood relation. he has to join gradually, as a found family member would <3
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rosicheeks · 2 years ago
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hiiiiii uhm uh i’m a tall(ish) and dorky and awkward bi trans girl (you may have seen a couple other asks from me idk if tumblr ate them tho sjxjxnsn) but uh you really are gorgeous and sweet and I’d absolutely pamper and spoil you for a weekend if i could, like soft dates and movie nights and cuddles and affection (and lovingly making you cum on my fingers and tongue over and over but uhmmmm) because i really think you deserve to be taken care of, to rest and relax and have someone make sure you’re as loved and satisfied and content as you can be, and it’d be an honor to take care of you how you deserve (and you’re stunning and gorgeous and sexy but like yeah) 🥺🥺🥺
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#hdnsnsknsjsnsnsnxksnsnxnsks#I’m sorry I feel like I use this gif all the time but this is ME#I’m blushing SO MUCH#and on the inside I’m screaming and crying and just ahhhhhhzjsnsksnsjdnkd#you are such a sweetheart I can’t handle it!!!#I have seen a few asks from you (feel free to claim an emoji)#but some of them hit me when I’m nonverbal and don’t want to talk#and ngl some of them are WAY TOO SWEET#and I try to respond and I just sit there#I think it’s easier for me to reply when I’m a lil high or drunk cause words just kind come out#so this is to literally anyone and everyone who has sent me an ask and I haven’t responded - it’s seriously nothing personal.#I think it’s all about timing and when I’m able to respond ya know?#maybe one day I should drink some wine or smoke a joint and just reply to all the asks in the past that I’ve wanted to reply to#cause I feel like every sweet asks deserves the proper response ya know ya know idk ok now I’m babbling#anywayyyy I just read your ask again and I’m crying all over again I was not prepared for this#I want ALL of this pls & ty 🥺🥺 soooo uhhhm when are you coming over 👉👈#cause I also think you deserve to be pampered and spoiled a lil bit too 🥰😘 and it would be my honor to be of service 😇#I NEED to go on soft dates right the fuck NOW#ooOOoOoOo what movie would you play for our movie night? 🥰🥰#((I have a feeling we won’t be doing much watching but idk 🫣🫣🫣🫣))#‘you deserve to be taken care of’ STOP YOU HIT ME HARD 😭😭😭😭 thank you so much for all your kind words holy shit#that entire part makes me want to sob like I can’t express to you how badly I want that 😭😭😭😭#thank you so so so much for this and every ask you have sent#you are an ANGEL 🥺💖💖#obviously I don’t know who you are my lovely anon but you have such a beautiful heart 💖#I’m sending you ALL my love and hugs and kisses 😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘#hope you feel them soon 🥺#ask#anon#sweet asks
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melodianaartist · 13 days ago
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Okay i get the Howl‘s moving castle hype now. That’s an amazing movie
#watched it for the first time#i had only seen that pic of fully bird howl before and I was expecting it to be like this dramatic moment#but it’s really not#Sophie shows up kisses him and gets him home#it’s simply brushed aside because if doesn’t matter#Sophie loves him. it’s not a big revelation. she already is sure of herself - of her love#so him beeing at his lowest doesn’t matter. it only matters that he is safely returned home#same with the heart beeing returned to him. it’s not this big act of romantic love or realisation of love#I mean it is an act of love but it’s not Sophie finally shouting I love you and suddenly his heart is returned to him by the power of true#love or whatever you get me? the two of them are very obviously into each other before that too + at peace with it#romantic love is obviously present but it’s not like end all be all for them b/c the familia relations they built with everyone else#is also just as important and stable. if anything true love beeing the end all be all is kinda parodied with the turnip prince + him beeing#instead both Sophie’s curse and Howl’s curse is a lack of self worth#Sophie feels ugly and she trades in her own youth for the sake of everyone else. she turns old and doesn’t even reach out to them for help.#her family is not malicious by any means and they worry about her but they also don’t really fight the distance that behaviour create#not actively anyway. when the mother finds out her lost daughter is back she reunites with her tearfully and is genuinely happy but she is#also dipping quickly again and that’s not weird behaviour.#the family Sophie makes in the moving castle is so very intimate and close in contrast.#and she chooses them for herself. not for anyone else.#as for howl so much about him screams gifted kid burn out to me#or more like beeing gifted + lonely and your gift is so wonderous and magical and it makes you so happy#but you also tie so much of yourself to it. and you get praised for it. you‘re a prodigy..but when using your gift inevitably is hard#and tears at you#your self worth also lessens. and then you realise this system you‘ve been exceeding in is fucked and brings destruction and it encourages#you to become a tool (to the point where other wizards even lose their identities to become weapons for the king)#and as if that isn‘t worse enough that tool is meant to cause destruction#so you run from this system. and you want to use your gift on your own terms and that’s what you do but it still doesn’t fix that self worth#issue and you are free but you are alone and that’s not a place to foster self worth#when really what really helps is someone who isn‘t so indrenchwd in your head and has a new perspective#howls moving castle
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atomicrainbowlight · 3 months ago
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krockat · 5 months ago
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oh my goshl....... to the depths of the editing mines i go again......,
GAAAAAAAAAURGH
GAAAAAAH
GAH GAH GAH
Y'AAAAAH
,,,,,,
so..... i wanted to edit a short video. its true, i did. so instead of purchasing or subscribing to yet another program for a kindling hobby i looked up free editing software. but i needed to get it Quick and Without Much Thought - cause my hands were Oh so hungry to edit the thing i'd filmed for this specific project today,
Now
aaand so i picked the top placement of a top twelve best free editing programs of 2023
(can you count the potential pitfalls of mistakes in this one sentence?)
and so. i clicmked it and wow! in browser!! thats great.
opened it up and:
wow! its easy to understand,
it reminds me of old programs i used before way back,
and its just. intuitive user friendly enough,
but also with enough bigger boyer tools for me to work with, so i can feel like a bigger boy.
and yea, many features are paywalled, but theres cheaper and manual versions for all of them -
(and those features not being this i minded, i find manual subtitling for example to be kind of a fun and fulfilling problem.)
it was seeming. cool!
but. as i have now layed an hour or so on working on this progrem and project.... i realize to my intense fear and budding dissapointment........
Exporting is a premium feature.
meaning, Downloading, what i have created...................
I HAVE TO PAY FOR`?????????
I put all this time and effort and funny lil skibblywinklies and am now soulbound and connected to this project!!! to this piece ive created!!
with YOUR TOOLS and YOUR FEATURES THAT I MOLDED W MY HANDS THE SUPPLE CLAY OF MY PROJECT:........
and now, poor as i am today, i can not. get my project back. into my hands.
i am late on a bill i have not been able to pay.... and motherfucker you think i shall pay you 192 usd for a yearly subscription for the pro feature, or 24 usd a month with auto rescription for This? you think thats okay??? you cuck swiene???
you who were top 1 free program.
i shall do violence upon the world, instead of doing the violence upon me.
i shall not turn this pain inward. RAAAAUGH RAAAAAHGHRAAAAAAAAUGH uuuuuRAAAAAAAHGHGHGHGHGHHUUHHUHUGHUGHUGHHGHGHGHGHUHUHGUGHUGHUGHUGHGUHG .
why do every editing exploit i do end up in torture.....
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blizzardfluffykpop · 7 months ago
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I've been thinking about crocheting a slice of bread (because of Younghoon)- for a few weeks now- the thing holding me back was finishing a mini sweater for my mom's plushie- I did not want to finish that thing at all- (It only needed 6 more stitches and two 12 chains on either side)... The want to have a bread plushie for yh was so strong that I finished those stitches- and two days later- (after watching love revolution) In 3 hrs- I made 'Bbangie'! The bread loaf of my crochet dreams~ (It was actually really easy- I just kept getting distracted by tbz) And if anyone wishes to know the pattern/see Bbangie lmk-
#idk what to tag this#kate rambles#kate crafts#kate will ramble in the tags about 'bbangie'#i couldn't get the cute little plushies they sold from a kpop store so i've resorted to making my own... not that i haven't before but man#gotta do everything around here... jk ofc- but i wish merch was more available on cute things#anyways the free yarn my friend gave me came in handy today- (i got bunches of colors from her) i was just gonna cut up my#ombre light brown-black yarn when i realized she had give me tan and golden brown~ thanks mutt!#the piece of 'bread' isn't perfect yet- but i don't really care about the imperfections unless i'm making it for someone else- so i'll#prolly never fix them- it'll just be my emotional support piece of bread when i watch yh from now on-#it's 'two slices of bread' and then attached by single crochet then flipped right side out= to make a pretty edge like a bread loaf#i talked about it on ig but i wanted to talk about it on here in depth because i just love the little thing-#i didn't put any stuffing into it because i didn't want it to suck to clean later- and also it feels more like 'bread' w/o stuffing anyway#is bbangie it's actual name- no- i just don't know what to spell it the way i pronounce it for fun- buh-bbangie is what i call it-#it has no eyes cause that seems like a psychological nightmare- no mouth to scream but all eyes to see yknow? so alas it's just bread#i raised it from a string#also i originally saw someone crochet a sandwich bag- and i was like omg- i could make a mini bread plushie for yh- and it took me til now#to do so- but i'm so happy i did tbh#if anyone wants to see the little guy on here lmk
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wisheswagered · 1 year ago
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OHHHHH MY GOD
FREDERICK GUN!?!?!
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