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urprettylittlething · 1 year ago

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In The Shadows

Purge Alternate Universe

Yandere - Gojo Satoru x Reader x Geto Suguru

A/N - Okayyyy I've been working on this for like a week and it's the longest I've ever written for one thing, I had a shoulder injury which is mostly healed up now during the week which hindered my progress a little because I originally really wanted this to get out nearer Halloween time, but oh well TT at least its here now right? Lmao, but I hope you guys enjoy it, I tried my best and lowkey kind of hate it, I wished I could've done more or something, but if you have any ideas around this for a possible part 2 let me knoww, although no promises ;) Consider this a massive thank you story, I now have over 100 followers and the likes and reblogs and comments, you guys, I'm crying, I love you all so much <333333 I love interacting with you guys and your comments on my stories or in my inbox <3333 you all make my day ilysm <3 :( AND IM SORRY I COULDNT HELP IT, they're kind of really mean so its more harsh yandere than the soft you all wanted :( I couldn't help myself its a purge AU TT, but I promise ill make something softer in the future <33 sorry this is so long omfg, but let me know your thoughts pretty please <3 and if you actually read all of this ily

summary - Another purge night is here and you think your safe and sound, but let your guard down and you'll find yourself bound.

warnings - purge, mentions of 'off screen' murder, actual 'off screen' murder, kind of gore but reader doesn't see it, blood, rope, reader gets tied up, gags?, tape over readers mouth, they're actually kind of really mean lol, especially Geto, descriptions of panic, anxiety, overthinking, stalker situation kind of, swearing, crying, brief hair pulling, if there's any more let me know ml <3

genre - Oneshot

wc - 7.2k

~spelling and grammar fixed already~

Edit - the top photo 6/11/23

The tip tapping of fingers on keys echoed around the silent room. The occasional footfalls of people around her walking up and down. Picking up books to further aid their studying would slip past the music playing in her ears when they were loud enough.

Every time she would hear someone being a little too loud for the library they were in she would glance up and shoot a half-hearted glare their way.

They’d never see her but it was the thought that counted. A barely audible sigh escapes her as she brings a hand up to massage her cold fingertips into the throbbing skin at her temple.

Nervous nibbling was occupying her teeth and lips, chewing away the flesh and creating tender spots her tongue would soon soothe.

She’d been staring at the same empty document for two hours now. No more than two sentences she was able to come up with before she’d erase them in a fit of frustration.

Abandoned textbooks lay closed behind her laptop, she’d deemed them no use around thirty minutes in, but she couldn't bring herself to get up and search for better ones.

She was antsy, not able to focus on her assignment due in a week's time. Her brain was all fogged up, too many thoughts going through her mind and yet she's not able to focus on a single one.

The purge was tonight. March 21st. And it was currently 1pm.

Why did she even bother to come to the library in the first place? Was she hoping to distract herself even just a little bit before she had to hunker herself down in her dorm for twelve hours?

Maybe. Yes.

Was it working? Absolutely not.

She was too skittish. Overthinking everything that had the potential of happening later and things that have previously happened.

‘Someone's not going to come and try to kill me just because I forgot to return their pen that one time, right?’

The amusing, albeit a little dark, thought did make the corner of her lips twitch just the smallest amount.

Taking off her headphones after stopping her music, she closes down her laptop and starts to move it into her bag.

She spares a quick glance around the few tables next to hers as she stands with the library's books in her arms. Her eyes locked with a man sitting roughly two tables down. Slumped back in his seat.

Gojo Satoru. Bright white and fluffy hair paired with a set of dazzling blue eyes. The ones currently peeking over the tops of his round shades that had slid down his nose as he tucked his head down slightly.

Sitting in front of him and abstracting her view of Gojo only slightly is who she assumed was Geto Suguru. Two peas in a pod and never seen without the other. The long black and silky strands of hair tied up in a half up bun was a giveaway to who he was as well.

Both of them were originally from Tokyo, Japan. Coming over to America over five years ago. Or at least that's what she’s heard from around the place, not knowing them personally. They were the most popular boys in school when she had joined a little over a year ago and they still held the title strong.

She doesn’t think she's ever really interacted with them. At Least not on any kind of personal level. Sure, maybe from a few friends of friends or passing each other in the hallway and being polite to her upperclassmen, but nothing all that memorable.

Which is why this prolonged eye contact is sending a very noticeable shiver down her spine. The smallest twitch of a smirk on his face and she was breaking eye contact, gulping down the pooled saliva in her mouth as she turned around and hastily made her way in between the towering bookshelves.

Leaving the library after stacking the books she’d previously taken back on the shelves, she hastily makes her way down the long corridors. Keeping her head down, her hands clutched tight on the strap of her bag. She passes very few people in the hallway.

Even after pushing through the doors and trekking her way to the dorms at the end of the path, there were very few people loitering around outside. Some of the people she passed looked like they could be stoned, not that she could really blame them. Some looked a little too relaxed and happy and some were just trying to get to their destination as quickly as possible. Like her.

As the doors came into view, and then the stairs, she slowly began to relax, her fast pace lessening up. Successfully getting to the safest place she could for when the purge would start.

It was also a massive relief that her two good friends would be staying with her during the twelve hours of horror. Last time she was by herself there had been multiple scares throughout the night. Nothing too big but something she didn’t think she could handle alone again.

Reaching her door on the third floor she fiddles with her keys for a few seconds before her door clicks open and she pushes her way inside. Closing the door and locking it again for good measure.

It was 1:43 pm.

A few minutes after she had arrived back at her dorm did she realize she still needed to pick up some food items. Being a broke student meant she had essentially nothing in her cupboards or her fridge. And if she was ‘hosting for the purge’ this year, it meant she had to stock up at least a little bit.

‘Imagine trying to hide from a killer and your stomach growls, I think I would just die on the spot.’ She thinks, the smallest smile gracing her face. Humour is usually her way to cope in situations like these. It’s either that or panicking and she’d rather try to save that for the main event.

With a heavy sigh and hesitation weighing her limbs down, she slowly puts her shoes and jacket back on. She can make this quick. In and out. Easy peasy.

With a quick jump while shaking her limbs out to get rid of her last minute hesitation, she quickly opens her door and steps out before shutting it behind her. No going back now. Locking the door behind her, she starts making her way back down the stairs and out the doors, walking in the direction of the food store.

Her nerves were still playing up though, eyes darting this way and that as if trying to find a reason for her to panic. ‘It’s okay, the purge hasn’t started yet, all those things are still illegal.’ Is what she keeps telling herself while taking a deep breath. But the fact they won’t be in a few hours was still cause for some panic.

Arriving at the store, she wizzes around, collecting any good looking snack and throwing it in her basket before hastily paying and leaving. The heavy plastic carrier bag hanging from her fingers gave her reason to think she went a bit overboard.

Her quickened steps and accelerated breathing were all she could hear for a while. Her walk back to her dorm was supposed to be a quiet one, less and less people were loitering around meaning less and less noises to distract her.

Especially from the new set of footsteps that have appeared behind her.

As soon as her mind clocked the extra set of footsteps there, it went into overdrive. ‘Who is that? Are they following me? No, you're being delusional, they're just trying to get back home. But are they? They just appeared out of nowhere. Are they going to try and kidnap me? Rape me? Stuff me in a van? Drag me down a dark alleyway and murder me?’

Her mind was racing, steps quickening and breathing silenced under the new threat. ‘Oh god, what if they’re stalking me? Waiting until the purge starts to come and slaughter me? They’re going to kill me. They’re going to kill me. What should I do? What should I do? What should I do?’

And then they were gone.

It barely registered in her mind that the fast paced footsteps from behind her had vanished. A sharp breath escaped her before her head whipped around on a desperate whim. No one. Not a soul on the path behind her.

Her shoulders sank with relief and a watery laugh broke free from her trembling lips. ‘I’m losing my mind.’ She thought. Even though that feeling in her gut had faded, it never fully disappeared. Her racing heart never slowed and neither did her footsteps.

Y/n hurried back to her dorm, almost running through the doors and up the stairs to fumble with her keys and quickly burst in. Double checking she locked the door behind her, and then checking every other lock on her third story apartment. Only when she had made sure they were all secure could she finally relax.

Her body shivering and hands shaking from the after effects of adrenaline. Her breathing is still a little shaky as she pulls a bunch of pillows and blankets into her tiny living room. Pushing her chair and sofa away to make more space as she lays everything out as neat as she could, making the floor a comfy space for her and her two friends to crash for the purge.

She empties the snacks from out of the plastic bag and piles them in a nice little corner near the TV. A small stack of movies there for when they’re all waiting for the purge to start. Some cards in a pack were also placed there.

The three of them are wanting to be as quiet as possible while the purge is going on. Everything locked, curtains drawn, lights off, TV with no volume and only subtitles, quiet games to play in case they got bored, etc.

They weren’t taking any chances. It was doubtful anything would happen, since nothing really ever did in the dorms. No student here would go as far as murdering somebody, everyone mostly stayed inside, not wanting to risk anything. She only knew of a few people that have snuck out before to rob a few stores, or do some petty revenge like smashing someone's car without getting into trouble.

But overall, it was best to remain quiet. They didn’t want to get murdered because the TV was turned up too loudly and attracted some wrong attention.

It was 5:15 pm.

This is the time her friends arrived. Knocking some made up code on the slab of wood before messaging just for good measure that it was really them outside.

After unlocking the door and letting her two good friends inside her dorm she swiftly closes and locks it again. Relieved greetings transpire as well as nervous whispers about the purge and some small gossip of who they think would actually go out this year and who are likely to stay inside.

The three of them start to make their way around her dorm, closing all the curtains and double checking the locks on all the windows and doors. Especially the balcony and front door.

After they’ve secured the apartment, they turn off all the necessary lights, flicking on a few electrical lanterns and setting them up around the living room, but away from the windows. They’ve left one lantern in the bathroom and one in her bedroom, both turned off, just in case of emergencies.

The three of them settle in a spread out pile on the blankets she put down in the living room. Some snacks are passed around already and a movie is slotted into the TV, playing as background noise mostly while they talk.

Erica, a sassy but kind of dumb girl, with choppy shoulder length hair that had been bleached and dyed a light green. She's donned in a crop top and sweatpants, comfy.

Don, a friendly giant, very kind in nature but also a little muscly. He has short black hair and a sculpted jawline. He also came in sweatpants and a baggy white T-shirt, also comfy.

Her two very good, and only, friends here. They’re in a few of her classes and all regularly hang out together.

“So,” Erica begins after her mouthful of powdered donut. “Who do you think is going to actually purge tonight? Like, actually actually. My moneys on them two hotties in my class.” She finishes, wiggling her eyebrows..

Don hums around his half empty soda can. “Yeah, honestly I wouldn't be surprised if they did.”

Y/n pipes up, “Wait who?” sitting up against the sofa behind her, getting comfy like she's about to hear the gossip of a lifetime.

“Oh, Em, G! You haven’t heard of it? You’ve seriously been, like, living under a rock or something.” Erica says jokingly. Picking apart pieces of her donut and eating them.

Don perks up too. “Really? You haven't?” Y/n shakes her head in denial as Don shrugs. “I get it, it’s mostly stayed in our class, hasn’t spread much further than that.” He says before crawling forward and rummaging around for more snacks.

“So get a load of this right!” Erica sits up too after finishing her donut. Waving her hands excitedly as she tells her latest gossip. “You know them two really hot upperclassmen right?” She draws out her ‘really’ and waits patiently at the end of her sentence for the other girl's confirmation.

When she nods in slight confusion, Erica continues, “There were some major rumours in class that the two of them were late this one day because they were beating someone up. And I don't mean like a few slaps or hair pulling, I mean punches. You know?”

Y/n nods again, this time with furrowed brows and Erica continues, “At first, I didn’t believe it, obviously. But then, the two of them came into class and I swear there were blood stains on their clothes. Blood stains! Not to mention all the plasters and bandages all over their hands! I just had to believe it then! Wouldn’t you?”

After the end of her long rant she slumps back against the front of the sofa and mumbles incoherently to herself shaking her head while pouting.

Don, who had been listening silently, pipes up, “It was true, I was actually there for once.”

Y/n’s eyebrows raise in disbelief at what she had just heard. Fighting, here? She couldn’t help but to doubt it, if only just a little. Stuff like that has never happened here. Or at least while she had been here. It was just unheard of.

And for an attack so vicious to result in blood being drawn, then there must have been somewhat of a good reason for it. That was the conclusion she came to.

“I mean, there had to have been a good reason for it.” Y/n says, “They’re pretty nice people aren't they? It is Gojo and Geto were talking about here, right? They’re really popular here too.” Her eyes darted between her two friends, looking for more answers on this unexpected juicy gossip.

Erica sighs wistfully, “No, it got shut down pretty quick, which I guess is why so little people have heard about it. God, would I pay to see them fight though. Their muscles must have looked amazing.”

They stop talking about it after that, Don getting distracted by the snacks and whining about how she didn’t get his favourite. Erica smacking him with a few pillows and complaining how he’s getting in the way of her movie she was barely even watching.

Their playful banter did little to distract from her inner turmoil. A small shiver went down her spine again. The memory from earlier in the library resurfacing in her mind. Gojo staring her down, the creepy walk back from the shops and now learning the two had at the very least helped in injuring someone.

It could just be because it was purge day, but everything was beginning to creep her out and she was overthinking again. ‘What if he wants to attack me next? What if all of those things were connected and someone really was following me home? What if he wants to kill me? What if both of them want to kill me? Have I ever done anything to offend them? I haven’t, have I?’ She knew these were far fetched and ridiculous, but she couldn’t help but think of them anyway.

Her spiralling thoughts were halted when a stray pillow smacked her in the face. “Oops, haha, sorry.” Erica sheepishly apologized, bringing her hand up to smooth down Y/n’s ruffled hair. Don was laughing in the background.

Y/n was stunned for a few seconds before replying, “Oh, don’t worry. How about we put something else on? This movie is kind of boring.” crawling across the piles of pillows and blankets to reach the stack of movies.

This caught the other two’s attention, eagerly rushing to the stack as well to try and get first pick. Arguing for a few more minutes before settling on a movie they all loved. Snuggling back into their original positions.

This was how the next few hours went before the announcement appeared.

It was 6:59 pm.

At exactly 7 on the dot, the TV went black before turning blue, the government announcing the commencement of the purge. Big bold letters and ‘Emergency Broadcast System’ and ‘This is not a test’ were displayed on the screen.

They were all quiet as it played out. The mood quickly turned sombre.

“Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted.”

Don gulped.

“Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed.”

Erica huffed.

“Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours.”

Y/n shivered.

“Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7 am when The Purge concludes.”

She released a shaky breath. The announcement ends with “...A nation reborn.” before stopping. The screen turned black again.

No one moves or says anything. Each of them were frozen in an array of emotions. Fear being the most prominent.

The silence stretched on for minutes. Eerie in its wake, not even being able to hear other people in their dorm rooms like she normally would.

Eventually, after releasing another shaky breath and rearranging herself with trembling limbs, they all snap back into the present.

Don coughs and Erica shuffles awkwardly.

“Cards, anyone?” Y/n meekly speaks up. The other two nod as they sit in a small circle.

It was 7:36 pm.

This was when the first explosion of some kind was heard by them. Each of them froze in the middle of playing their mostly silent game of cards. The noise was distant, but the impact remained.

A scream from a few doors down echoed in the silent space.

They waited with baited breath for any follow up, but when nothing happened, they slowly relaxed. Each of them assumed it was the explosion that must have scared someone. Sometimes it’s better to think of the positive, rather than what that scream could have been for.

A few minutes later a siren bellows in the distance, a few car alarms wail.

Nothing too bad, but knowing that it could mean someone was being murdered out there didn’t give them any ease.

It was 8:02 pm.

This is when the banging starts. Y/n thinks it could be a few doors down again. Erica thinks it’s below them and Don thinks it’s above them.

Wherever it was, it was concerning.

Erica releases a small nervous chuckle. “Maybe someone is just having a good time?” A fake smile plastered on her face to try and mask her worry. Even she didn’t believe her little theory. Not during a time like this, during The Purge.

It was a few minutes later, after they had quietly resumed their game, that footsteps were heard.

Clacking down the hallway.

1, 2.

They were walking at a leisurely pace. Taking their time. Strolling down the hallway and getting closer and closer.

All three of them looked towards the door, as if someone were to burst in at any moment.

The footsteps slow before coming to a stop. Right outside her door.

The three of them hold their breath, bodies flinching when a light knock rings out into the open space.

Complete silence.

Another knock.

None of them had even noticed the earlier noises had stopped, too focused on the potential threat now right outside the door. Seemingly wanting someone to open up.

Three pairs of eyes dart between each other. Silent questions trying to push their way out without being heard. A few panicked half shrugs and furrowed brows with downturned lips later, another knock rings out.

This time it was a little louder.

Barely audible whisperings of ‘you go’, ‘no you’, ‘fuck no’, ‘who even is it?’ cut through the silence. No one wanted to ask the question. To even speak a hint of it lest it result in it coming true.

Eventually after a solid minute of panicked, almost silent, squabbling later. A frustrated and frightened Erica pushed herself up. Taking a very obvious deep breath. Eyes closed and silently mumbling to herself before taking a few steps over to the front door.

She tried to be as quiet as she could but each step sounded like it weighed a ton. Every creek and every wobble made to sound the loudest.

Very quietly bracing her hands upon the door, she leant up on her tiptoes. Peeking into the peephole positioned in the centre of the door.

The two left in the pile of blankets still. Not wanting to even breathe in fear of disturbing whatever was happening in front of them.

A sudden screech of pure panic and fear tore from Erica’s throat. Flailing before landing with a harsh thud on the floor beneath her. Scrambling backwards on her hands and feet, keeping her eyes on the door the entire time.

The two startle and immediately jump up, laboured breathing hindering their lungs from the sudden scare.

“What the fuck? Erica what happened? What was that?” Don frantically whispered. His eyes were also locked on the door.

Y/n also whispered to her, “Who was that? Erica?” her eyes locked onto her friend, not able to bring herself to look at the door yet.

“It was.. Oh god.. The peep..” Erica wheezed out. The fright took too much out of her with her frantic gasps for air.

A sudden bang echoed into the room. A few more followed before they all realized it was coming from the front door.

Erica screeched and threw herself back into a standing position, rushing for the kitchen and grabbing any sharp knife her eyes first laid on.

Don stood frozen in fear. Not able to move or barely breathe from the looks of it.

Y/n wasn’t any better herself. Downright terrified. This was her dorm. Her dorm. Which means whoever was outside, was looking for her.

The banging persisted, the person on the other side seemingly determined to get in. This proved correct when the handle started turning whichever way it could.

She didn’t even realize, terror clouding her senses because when she looked back to her two friends, Don had collapsed into himself, wheezing with little air entering his lungs amidst his panic. Erica was cornered in the kitchen, sobbing, tears flooding her cheeks and ruining her mascara she had in place.

The persistent banging stopped for a second. The faint sound of another pair of footsteps approached from the hallway outside. Muffled talking pursued but it was hard to make anything out, between her pounding heart, Erica’s sobs and the slab of wood in the way, didn’t make for easy hearing.

For Y/n, it seemed there was one second of complete silence. No sobbing, no voices, no distant alarms or explosions, no racing heart, no wheezing lungs. Before chaos sprung onto them.

Suddenly the people outside, because there was another person now, resumed banging on the door. But it didn’t seem like they were ‘just knocking’ anymore. No.

They were trying to break the door down.

She could see it from the way the door groaned and creaked under the relentless kicking. She couldn't quite tell if they were using their feet, or an object, or whatever.

All that mattered was that they were trying to get in. And they were going to succeed.

“Move! Hide! We need to hide!” She whisper-yelled. Rushing to Don and tugging on his arm to try and get him to move. He stared at her for a few seconds before his brain caught up, registering what was happening around him. The real danger he was in right now.

“Hide.. Oh god..” He panted, sprinting for the bathroom, the first place his eyes had landed on.

With Don now searching for a place to hide, she ran her way to Erica. Still trying to be as quiet as she could, in the little hopes that they would think she wasn’t here.

“Erica, we need to hide! They’re getting in!” She frantically whispered to her hyperventilating friend. Trying to shake her shoulders, even resorting to lightly slapping her face to try and get her attention. She was desperate.

“Please!” The sound of splintering caught both of their attention. Heads whipping towards the door starting to cave. She wasn’t all that surprised, that slab of wood was a shitty excuse for a door anyway.

Erica suddenly sprung up and dove for the piles of blankets in the living room. Trying to bury herself amongst them, taking the knife with her.

And now that all her friends had been taken care of, she ran for her bedroom. Trying her best not to stumble and fall in the dark hallway.

As soon as her door came into sight, she gently opened it, gunning for her wardrobe tucked into the corner of the room. Not even looking towards the turned off lantern, she didn’t need them knowing her hiding spot from something so obvious.

It was already messy anyway, so in her frazzled brain she didn’t bother caring where she tossed piles of clothes and shoes in her room.. They’d hopefully think it was like that in the first place.

After quickly clearing a space big enough for her to curl into, she did just that. Situating herself just right, back pressed against the side of the wardrobe, knees tucked to her chest and pressed against the boxes in front of her. She was sitting on old shirts she hadn’t seen for months.

Hearing the door breaking even further, she grabbed any clothes within her reach and threw them over herself. Shutting the door when she was mostly covered, she could have sworn she could hear laughter coming from the hallway.

A loud crash and splintering tore through the air. She knew it was her front door. And now they were inside.

Her hands slowly went up to cup around her mouth, trying to muffle her breathing as much as she could. Her body froze. Even when she already began to feel muscle cramps settling in, she dared not move. She forced herself to breathe slowly. Every inhale a struggle along with a reminder that she was still alive at this very moment. Even if she was convinced she wouldn’t be for much longer.

The thought brought tears to her eyes. The original shock wears from her body and settles into something akin to despair.

Her throat started clamping up, muscles seizing and throbbing with the need to cry.

It was the thudding of footsteps that shook her out of it. Snapping her half way back into a nightmarish reality.

She gulped. Closing her eyes and straining her ears for any information they were willing to receive.

Just as she thought. Two pairs of footsteps.

With every thud of a shoe or a spike in their muffled talking, her body would tremble.

It remained like this for a few more minutes. The footsteps or talking occasionally pausing.

It was during one of these silences, where a different sound was heard. She couldn’t identify the exact sounds, just ones of commotion. They were still all muffled. And then she heard muffled yelling.

It sounded so dulled, between the walls and layers of wood and clothes, she could barely make out anything, her ears straining for any hint as to what was happening. Being left in the dark like this, literally and figuratively, was terrifying her.

And then this horrible, awful noise carried its way between the cracks in the wardrobe. Crunching. Cracking. Stomps.

That muffled yelling from before kept getting cut off. Eventually dwindling down into a barely audible groan. Those thuds never seemed to stop either. Never ending, crunching, cracking, and now wet thuds.

Her brain was trying its hardest to process, to catch up with the information that it has been provided with.

More footsteps, only one pair, accompanied with muffled laughter. And a more distinct sound traveling through the air.

A scream.

Even more laughter, hurried footsteps and pleas of ‘no’, ‘please’, ‘don’ts’.

It was now, with the wet stomps still in the background, her screeching friend, that eager laugh, that her brain had finally caught up.

She was going to be sick.

They’re hurting them. Killing them.

Her friends.

Her body moved out of its own violation. Shaky hands and feet kicking and pushing their way out of the pile of clothes. Wardrobe door swinging open with a creak.

She collapsed out of it. Slumped on the floor, dry heaving. Her lungs not seeming to take enough air in but yet holding in too much. She couldn’t function. Fear overwhelmed every part of her. As well as grief.

Her ears were ringing and she was left gasping, drool dripping onto the hard floor beneath her as a result of her attempted vomiting. Eyes wide open, blurry when she tapped back into her mind.

Tears, clouding her vision and dripping audibly on the floorboards below her.

In the distance she could hear muffled talking. Two men, she could make out more clearly. Not only that, but squelching, wet, gooey noises seemed to mingle in the air. Gurgling was the next before silence.

A minute passed, maybe two before the footsteps started up again. Those goddamn footsteps.

1.. 2.

But they were slower than before. Steady. Taking their time.

And getting closer.

Her instincts kick in, blinking profusely to try and clear her eyes from the tears, looking up and darting around before landing on the space under her bed.

She wouldn’t have enough time to fix her spot back in the wardrobe. She couldn’t run past them, not even in her best state which she certainly wasn’t in right now. She had considered her bedroom window as an option, but it was locked, which would take time to open. Not even mentioning the fact she was on the third floor, so jumping out would break at least something important. They would be quick to notice as well, and if they came for her, it was likely they would decide to chase her down.

Under her bed seemed to be her best option at the moment, and she was running out of time. Scrambling as quietly as she could, she slid herself directly under her bed, trying to center herself in the middle of it, tucking herself into a tight ball.

The footsteps stopped right outside her bedroom door, she had enough sense to shut it on her way in, thank god. But that clearly wouldn’t be enough to stop them.

Almost as if the person was teasing her, they slowly clicked the door open. The distinct creak she had grown accustomed to over the months making itself known.

Her muscles are tense, tightening in the presence of her predators.

In the dark space from under her bed and in her room, it was obvious when the light from inside the hallway started spilling in the more the door got pushed open. In the vague depths of her mind it registered that they must’ve either turned the hall lights on, had taken one of her lanterns, or were carrying one of their own.

Her lungs were burning with the effort to keep her body running with the little air she was allowing them to have, all for the sake of trying to keep quiet.

It was all too silent once again, only for a second or two before the second pair of footsteps came towards her. A lot more hasty compared to the other ones.

Her breath silently hitched, the new person pushed their way into the room, stepping past their company before a thunk was heard. The sound forced her body to startle, jolting her muscles and kick starting her trembling again. An uncontrollable reaction to the fear she was under, the unrelenting motions causing a deep ache in her ribs.

The sound of rustling was now heard. It seemed they were looking for something. ‘They’re going to kill me. They’re digging around for a weapon to stab me with, to bash my head in, to murder me like they did my friends. I’m dead. I’m dead, I’mdeadI’mdeadI’mdead-’

Her racing thoughts consuming her fear riddled mind failed in picking up the sound of the other pair of footsteps slowly creeping round to the end of her bed.

The person paused, silently crouching down low before a pair of hands reached under.

The sudden tight grip on her ankles followed up by the sudden pull had her screeching. Pure terror flooding her veins. She had been yanked out from under her bed, lying sprawled on the floor and gazing up at the towering man stationed above her.

Her lungs burned, seizing up before a sickening scream escaped her. Fuelled by genuine, unrestrained horror.

They had found her.

One of her lanterns they had brought in illuminated his face in a haunting light. The darkened shadows stretching and contorting behind him to create the most grim image for her mind to paint. Not that it was far off.

A foot standing on either side of her hips, straddling her if it wasn’t for his standing position. Hands nestled comfortably back in his trouser pockets now they had done the job of retrieving her. A comfortable looking long-sleeved shirt adorned his figure. Dark splatters starting from the bottom of his shoes and creeping their way up his legs, tapering off into a few spots that painted one of his cheeks.

An easy smile softly ingrained on his face, followed by gentle looking eyes peering down at her if it wasn’t for the malicious spiral she found herself paralyzed in. Dark locks of hair extended down his back, past where she could see from her position, with the top layers sectioned off and tied back into a bun.

His mouth opened and he spoke. “Well, well. Look what I’ve caught for us Satoru.”

Satoru. The other man must be Satoru Gojo, and this was Suguru. Suguru Geto. The most popular guys she knew, the supposedly kindest. And then staring in the library, the walk back from the shops, the gossip her most likely dead friend had told her.

Her body suddenly felt like it was pumped full of adrenaline. Pushing herself up as fast as she could, using the bed as support all the while stumbling over her numb riddled legs. She took off, running towards the open door she so desperately wanted to pass through.

A sudden arm snatched her from around her waist and she screeched. Pure instinct driving her at this point as she scratched and kicked and flailed in his, Satoru Gojo’s, hold.

The sound of something dropping before his other arm came round, collecting both her wrists in one hand of his. His grip tightened the more she fought. Her body pressed tight against his, her back to his front. His head situated itself on her shoulder, tucking over and pressing his cheek to hers even while she cried and panted and kicked.

She could feel his grin pressing against the side of her face. “Such a pretty little thing we have here. Can’t let her get away so easily now, can we? Not after all the trouble we’ve gone through.” The last part practically whispered into her ear as she turned her face as far away as possible from him.

A little laugh boasted out from Geto. “Of course not.” He strolled over to them, bending down to pick up what Gojo had dropped in order to restrain her.

Rope.

Fucking rope.

The moment her eyes zoned in and processed what Geto was unravelling in his hands she tried to fight back even harder. Eyes flooding with tears that spilled down her cheeks. Short mumblings of ‘no’ being repeated over and over while becoming louder until she was yelling.

“Please don’t do this! Let me go! Please, please.. Stop!” She shrieked while sobbing, convinced they were going to kill her or torture her or something horrible like that.

Gojo walked the two of them to the edge of her bed before forcefully pushing her down, manhandling her onto her front and bending her arms to rest pressing against her back.

She sobbed into her ruffled sheets as she felt Geto fastening the rope tight around her wrists, the rough material digging into and pinching the sensitive skin. Raw and red marks already forming amidst her struggle.

Her legs still hung off the bed, trying their best to kick and hopefully injure one or both of them, but she knew it was a losing battle. None of her landing blows made them falter in any way.

When her wrists were successfully restrained Geto kept them pressed to the small of her back while Gojo let go and reached down to grab her ankles. Pulling them up and bending her legs at the knees while they both worked in finishing the task of tying her up.

When they finally stepped back to admire the work they’d successfully done, Y/n deflated. Tears soaking into her bed in which she rested on top of. Her lungs still burned, having never stopped. The hogtied position she had been forced into leaving her nothing to work with in terms of escaping. Not that she could think clearly anyway. The distress she was under proved too much.

“Oh, Shh Sh Sh… There, there, sweet thing. Settle down for us now. We aren’t going to kill you.” Cooed, who she could only guess right now was Gojo.

Geto reached forward from his position of kneeling on the bed, gentle soothing pets stroking her hair. Her sobbing tapering off into hiccupped breathing even while flinching with every touch. “There you go, good girl. See that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

He pulled away from her, stepping down off the bed and heading towards the previously discarded bag on the floor Y/n hadn’t noticed before..

Y/n slowly turned her head round, no longer pressed into her sheets. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, swollen from all the crying she’d been doing. Little hiccups and groans left her while her lungs tried to recover. She’d given up struggling right now, it had done nothing but cause her pain as the rope dug and squeezed the skin of her wrists and ankles.

Gojo piped up from behind her, only now feeling the heat from his legs pressing into hers causing her to flinch. “You know, this would’ve gone a whole lot easier if you had just let us in sweetheart.” She could practically hear the smug smile in his voice. “Look at where you are now, tied up all pretty for us. Ripe for the taking.” He pressed closer to her at that, voice practically dripping with need.

She whined in fear and started squirming at his words. Panic flooding her senses again for just a second before a sharp tug to her hair had her yelping, halting her movements.

“I thought I told you to quit that.” Geto was back to kneeling on the bed in front of her, his hand gripping tight onto her hair, eyes narrowed.

Her bottom lip trembled, breaths picking up with every second he glared down at her.

“Don’t be so mean, Sugu.” Gojo said, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Geto glanced back at him before humming and letting go of his harsh grip, her scalp burning in turn. “I suppose you’re right. She’ll have plenty of time to learn when we take her back home.”

Gojo hummed and she felt him leaning away from her, hearing him crouch down and fiddle with something from the bag as well.

“Back home?..” She stuttered, voice hoarse and throat dry.

Geto looked back down at her, amusement painting his face. “Yes. Home.”

“Where..” She started, face formed in a twist of concern and confusion. “Please.. I.. Just let me go. I won’t- I won’t tell anyone, I’ll- I’ll leave you alone, I’ll do anything, please..” She gasped out, tears gathered freshly in her eyes again, voice cracking every few seconds.

An amused eyebrow raised with the hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth was all she got as a response.

Gojo had come back, reaching round and fastening a strip of duct tape around her mouth in a sudden flurry of movement. Giving her no time to process what he had done until after he had done it.

She cried out, the sound muffled thanks to the tape, worried eyes darting around in panic as she tried squirming again for the third time.

Gojo pressed up behind her once again. “You’re not going anywhere, sweet pea! You’re ours now. We’ve had you picked out for a long time now.” The joy in his voice didn’t fail to put her on edge, his words doing their part in helping the tears gathered in her waterline to finally spill down her cheeks. Wetting the tape situated over her lips.

“He’s right.” Geto replied. Bringing one of his hands up to show what he had collected from the bag a few moments ago. The mobile phone in his hands glowed brightly in the dark room, the lamp from before having been moved, the light now dim.

“We’ll bring you back with us soon enough, but we still have a few more hours to kill before that. And why waste them.” Gojo said, the grin in his voice unsettling her, keeping her frozen in fear.

An easy smile pulled at Geto’s cheeks at that, head tilting to the side to gaze down at their pretty prey.

“Well what are you waiting for then, Satoru?”

A pause. Smile pulling into a predatory grin.

“Have at it.”

#geto x reader #gojo x reader #geto suguru #gojo saturo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere geto #yandere geto suguru #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #yandere gojo x reader #yandere geto x reader

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birchleavesdawn · 6 months ago

Text

Icy Improprieties

Kamimoto Kotone x M!Reader 2.5k Words Public ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Gangneung Ice Arena

"I guess this is the place."

Today you made the trip all the way to Gangneung to meet up with your girlfriend Kotone, who had invited you to come watch Jiwoo's hockey game. It was a long way, but you had never been to Gangneung, nor attended a hockey game, so you figured it might be an interesting experience.

You approached the heavy steel doors at the front, using your weight to pull one open. You were greeted with a chilling blast of cold air. Kotone had warned you to dress warmly, but you were wondering if the sweater you had picked out would be enough.

The inside of the building was intimidatingly large, it somehow looked twice as big on the inside as it did outside, and with a surprising amount of people going about their business. You walked up the ramp towards the rink and had a look around from behind the glass that separated the ice from the fans, probably there to prevent people from getting hit with the puck. You scanned the stands for a minute before spotting Kotone directly on the other side of the arena, also standing down by the glass. You guessed she must have come in from the other door. She spotted you and waved excitedly. You made eye contact and smiled, waving back, before finding your way over to where she was standing.

"Ah, I'm so glad you could make it!" She exclaimed. "It's gonna be really fun, I promise."

"This is already pretty cool. You're gonna have to help me out though, I have no idea how hockey works."

She laughed. "I don't know all the ins and outs either, but Jiwoo explained the basics of it last time I was here and its pretty simple to follow... wait why are you looking at me like that?" She blushed when she noticed you staring at her while grinning ear to ear.

"Sorry you just look so adorable in that enormous coat. I can't help it."

She smiled and smacked your arm playfully. "Where's your coat? Didn't I tell you to dress warmly? I don't think that's going to cut it."

"Yea I guess I underestimated how cold it was actually going to be."

She unzipped her coat and held out her arms.

"Get in here, we'll share."

You happily obliged and slipped into the giant coat along with her, wrapping your arms around her back and hugging her close.

"Ah, this is great." You commented, resting your chin on the top of her head.

"I know, it's like a personal heater."

"No, I mean because I get to hug you. But also because I can do this and no one will notice."

You lowered your hands to her butt and cupped a cheek in each, giving them a firm squeeze.

She yelped. "What are you doing? Do you see how many people are around?!"

"Relax, they can't tell. No one's gonna know." You began kneading and groping the soft flesh through her sweatpants.

"H-Hey stop that, someone's going to see us."

You ignored her pleas and whispered into her ear.

"You have such a nice butt Kotone. I have no choice but to take advantage of the situation."

She giggled and buried her face, which was now beat red, in your chest. "You're an idiot."

"Oh look, it's starting, so everyone will be completely focused on the game now."

You continued your exploration of her body, reaching down the back of her sweatpants and panties to touch her directly. She stiffened and you felt her breath hitch.

"Mmm. What happened to "we can't do this"? Aren't you still worried about people seeing? You teased.

She didn't respond, instead she reached her hands around your back and gripped your sweater, pulling you as close to her as possible. Her head was still resting against your chest, with her face pointed towards to ice to make it look like she was actually watching. You continued to feel her up, now sliding a finger into her.

She moaned quietly. "I hate you."

"Don't worry, you'll get your turn to tease me. But right now it's my turn." You continued pumping the digit in and out of her backside, eliciting quiet moans and gasps. You added a second, causing her grip on your sweater to tighten and her breath to become heavier.

"I hope I'm not making it too difficult for you to follow the game." You said, slowly working one hand around to the front of her pants.

"You're the worst." She managed, through ragged breaths.

"And yet you still love me."

You found your way into the front of her panties, quickly locating her clit, already engorged and begging for attention.

"Oh my god..." She groaned, biting down on your sweater.

"Come on now, you need to keep your focus on the game if you don't want anyone to notice. The players are doing their best, it's rude not to watch." You said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Kotone was at a loss for words, the pleasure and embarrassment of being fingered in a crowded public place was quickly getting the better of her. The two fingers working at her backside had her legs trembling, while the deft fingers working away at her clit were threatening to cause her knees to give out.

You decided to pick up the pace a bit.

"Ah! F-Fuck..."

"Language Kotone." You warned, as you worked her closer to climax.

"I-I can't..."

"Shhh, be a good girl and stay quiet." You whispered.

She was panting now, her grip on your sweater turning her knuckles white. You could feel her whole body begin to shake as she was on the verge of orgasm.

"Just let it go, baby. Cum for me."

Her breath caught in her throat, her body went rigid, and her legs quivered as her climax washed over her. Her body slumped forward into yours as she tried to stifle the loud moan she let out, the only thing preventing her from collapsing was your tight grip on her.

You pulled your hands from her sweatpants and held her as the aftershocks of her orgasm subsided. She eventually managed to collect herself and stood up, looking up at you, still blushing madly.

"Come with me." She said between breaths. She released you from her embrace and took hold of your hand, leading you away from the rink.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere private."

She led you to the bathroom, which thankfully was empty.

"Alright, I believe it's my turn now." She stated, pushing you backwards into the stall and locking the door behind her.

"What are you-"

"Shhhh. Just let it happen."

She reached up and pulled your head down, connecting her lips with yours in a passionate kiss.

You reciprocated, opening your mouth to allow her tongue access, which she took eagerly.

You felt her hands leave the sides of your face and drop to your waist, tugging at the hem of your sweater. She broke the kiss, leaving a strand of saliva hanging between you, and helped pull the sweater up and over your head. She hung it on the hook fastened to the back of the stall door and returned her lips to yours, her hands running over your exposed abdomen.

She kissed a trail from your mouth down to your neck, stopping to suck and nip at your sensitive skin. You ran a hand through her hair and let out a soft sigh, letting her know that you were enjoying yourself. She smiled against your neck, continuing down, until she reached the waistband of your pants. She knelt in front of you, dragging her tongue across your stomach.

"Kotone, what if someone comes in?"

"Please don't pretend like getting caught actually bothers you. I think we're way passed that." She replied, reaching for the button on your pants. She undid it, before tugging your pants and boxers down, allowing your rock hard cock to spring free.

"You've made quite a mess, haven't you?" She said, eyeing the precum that had accumulated on the head. She reached out and took it in her hand, spreading the sticky substance down your length. You let out a moan.

"Looks like you've enjoyed that almost as much as I did."

You looked down at her, your cheeks flushed, as she stroked you, before leaning in and pressing her tongue to the base of your shaft. She dragged her tongue up the entire length, causing you to shiver.

She swirled her tongue around the head, then opened her mouth and enveloped the tip, before taking you deeper. You reached out and took hold of her ponytail, guiding her, as she worked your shaft.

"As cute as you were in that coat, you look even more adorable with my dick in your mouth."

She looked up at you, your dick still in her mouth, and winked.

"Mmmm. You're such a good girl, Kotone. Your mouth feels amazing."

She moaned around your cock, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure throughout your body.

She continued bobbing her head up and down, taking more and more of you in her mouth each time, until you hit the back of her throat. She pulled back, sucking hard and using her tongue to massage the underside.

You were getting close, you could feel the pressure building, as you gripped her hair tighter and pulled her deeper onto your cock.

"Fuck, Kotone, I'm close."

She picked up the pace, using one hand to stroke the base of your cock, while the other went down the front of her pants, rubbing her own pussy.

You groaned and held her head in place, as you shot a thick rope of cum down her throat, which she greedily swallowed. She pulled back and gasped for air, stroking your twitching member, coaxing out the rest, and catching it on her tongue.

You leaned back against the toilet and closed your eyes, trying to catch your breath.

Kotone stood up and removed her hand from her pants, shoving her fingers into your mouth.

You loved the way she tastes. You sucked her fingers clean, moaning as you did so.

"Mmm. Good boy." She said, withdrawing her fingers from your mouth.

She began removing her own clothes, kicking her shoes off, pulling her shirt and bra over her head, and pushing her sweatpants and panties down.

She hung her top and pants on the hook with your sweater, then put her panties over your face.

"Hold these for me, okay?"

You nodded and complied, savoring your favorite scent.

She leaned against the stall door, bracing her arms against it.

No words needed, you understood your instructions. You moved behind her, and grabbed her hips. She let out a quiet moan as you pressed your still erect cock against her ass.

"Come on, give it to me."

You rubbed your shaft along her a lips a few times, coating yourself in her juices. You aligned your tip with her slit, and pushed inside.

"Fuck yes."

You both let out a moan, as you hilted yourself in her, filling her completely.

You took a second to relish in the feeling, before beginning to thrust.

You built up a rhythm, pulling her back to meet each of your thrusts. She braced her hands on the door, biting her lip and moaning, as your cock slammed into her over and over again.

You reached around her and cupped her breast, kneading the soft flesh. She let out a squeak when you pinched her nipple.

You leaned down and bit her earlobe.

"You look so sexy from behind, especially when I'm completely buried in your tight pussy."

You sped up, causing her to gasp, as your member pounded into her, the sound of flesh slapping flesh filled the room. Someone had almost certainly noticed what you were doing by now, but she was right, you really didn't care. It didn't seem like she cared anymore either.

She suddenly spun around and pushed you back down onto the toilet seat.

"I want you to look me in the eye when you fuck me."

She climbed on top of you, and lowered herself onto your dick, both of you moaning loudly as she did so.

She began to ride you, bouncing up and down on your lap. She wrapped her arms around your head and pulled you into her chest. You took one of her nipples in your mouth, causing an echoing moan to escape her lips.

"You're doing so good. Fuck me just like that, baby."

You could tell she was getting close, so you reached between the two of you and rubbed her clit. She gasped, and buried her face in the crook of your neck, moaning into it, as her climax quickly approached.

"Don't stop, I'm almost there."

She ground her hips down against yours, your dick hitting her in the perfect spot. She was panting heavily now, her walls clenching and squeezing your cock.

"I'm cumming."

With one final thrust, she screamed out in pleasure, her body shaking, as her orgasm ripped through her. She came all over your cock, the tightness and warmth too much for you to bear.

You moaned, as you blew your second load deep inside her, coating her insides.

The two of you sat there for a minute, breathing heavily. She leaned back and looked at you.

"So... worth the trip?"

"I'll be attending all of her games from now on."

Kotone giggled. "Speaking of Jiwoo, we should get back out there before she notices we're gone.

You both quickly redressed, Kotone retrieving her panties from you, and slipping them on.

"This did work by the way, I'm not cold anymore."

Kotone rolled her eyes.

You exited the bathroom holding hands once again. A couple of older woman who were stood not too far outside the door shot you some weird looks, but otherwise it didn't seem like too many people had any idea what had just transpired.

You returned to your spot by the glass just in time to hear the final horn sound.

"Looks like it's over." Kotone remarked. "Alright well now we go down over there and wait for Jiwoo to get changed and come out to meet us."

You followed her one more time down to the waiting area. You weren't there more than a couple minutes before Jiwoo came out and greeted you.

"Kotone are you alright? Are you sick? I saw you in the beginning and it looked like there was something wrong, then you guys disappeared and I never saw you again for the rest of the game!"

"Sorry yea, I wasn't feeling well for a while but I'm fine now. Sorry we missed your game."

"I'm going to join Kotone here for your next game too to make up for today." You added

You and Kotone shared a look.

"Sounds good, I'm happy to see you're doing better, Kotone."

#triples smut #kotone smut #kpop smut

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pricegouge · 7 months ago

Text

Don't mind me, just thought too long about keeping Price on a leash while he fucks you from behind 🫠

John Price x gn SAS captain reader oneshot | explicit

cw: Light pain play. Unsafe gagging practices. Praise kink. John isn't so much a masochist in this one, as just very enthused with reader's anger.

It's never easy working so closely with another captain, but John Price was perhaps the worst. Cocky, arrogant, brimming with the kind of self-assurance only a man who looked like him in a field like this could have.

A league all his own, really; a fact which he never let you forget, of course.

"Should give a horse its head when it knows where it's going, love," he'd murmur after you'd send your lieutenant away with detailed instructions on a task he could surely handle without your input. Ironic, that, seeing as John never seemed to tire of micromanaging you.

You hate him; tell him as much every time weeks of frustration in the field and no options other than lower ranking officers who'll get you discharged combine to find the two of you tangled up against the nearest sturdy surface.

He only ever laughs at you. "Show me, then," he goads, and you'll scoff in disgust and slap him, or dig your nails into his flesh so hard you can feel the heat welling beneath your grip. "Just like that, love," he'll hiss, "harder, fuck," and you're never certain if he means riding or hurthing, so you do both.

Most times, he likes when you keep his hands pinned over his head as you sink onto him. He could probably break out of it easily enough (this is John Price, after all), but he never does; just lets you lean across his unreasonably long torso and plant too much of your weight on the delicate bones of his wrists. It makes for an awkward angle, but you don't mind so much when it gives you great access to his neck. This might be his favorite, and while part of you is loathe to give him anything he wants, the other part is deeply satisfied with the knowledge that you could embarrass him in front of his men just by ripping off his keffiyeh at the next strat meeting if he pisses you off too much.

Too bad you don't actually want anyone else seeing him like this, all marked up. It's not that you care about him, but there's an undeniable rush that comes with getting John Price all laid out under you, asking for your hands, your fists, anything. That's the part you're not eager to share any facet of.

He makes it hard to keep quiet, though, grunting and groaning like a pig as he does.

"Could you be any more obvious?" you hiss down at him, and his mustache twitches ominously.

"I can use my mouth some other way," he offers. You hum, considering, but when he opens his mouth again, it is not in pliant offering of his tongue.

"Saw your spar with Ghost earlier. He let you grapple him, that last time. Get him in the ribs first, next time, and -."

"I'm gonna fucking gag you." His laugh, loud and obvious, lets you know exactly what he thinks of that idea, and far be it from you to deny any opportunity to shut him up.

With your knickers in his mouth, your belt holding them in place, it should probably occur to you that this is a bit too much for casual sex. You should probably notice how eagerly John pulls you onto his lap. You definitely should have noticed the pattern of events which always lead you back here by now. You never do though, just as eager to get him hilted inside you as he is to be there.

He groans when you sink onto him, neck cording with the effort to be heard.

"Should keep you like this all the time," you suggest, digging a thumbnail into his nipple. He arches a bit, lays back flat when you swat his pec.

"Christ, Price," you mutter as you wiggle on his long cock. It's a shame something so intuitively designed was wasted on such a right shit, you think, notching him impossibly deeper. Price swallows thickly when you squeeze around him, work him within yourself for a moment. He's content to watch you until he's not, heavy hands climbing up your thighs to encourage you to move properly.

You swat them away. "Greedy," you admonish, but you're ready to move anyway so you do, fucking yourself onto him with long rolls of your hips. You forget most times, when gear's back on, and perfectly professional (unsettlingly self-assured) masks are back in place, what exactly keeps you stumbling back into his tent time after time. But like this, when he waits until the grip you have on his thighs gets dire and the pinch of your brow combines with your slack jaw to betray your pleasure to get his hands properly on you; like this, you remember.

John's hands are heavy and warm, coaxing and guiding. He's like this always, some squirmy little bug that's made a home of your ear likes to remind you, but it's only here - where the judgemental eyes of your officers can't follow - that you allow yourself to be guided; let him pet at you, reward you. Here, it's all justified. Honors owed. Tomorrow, surrounded by the best soldiers in the world and expected to stand on a pedestal as his equal, the doubt will set in and his praise will draw your teeth.

"Shit, John," you huff when his big palm stretches flat against your tummy and the way he pushes into you, you know he can feel himself there. He grunts, rocks up and tries to squeeze himself through the wall of your abs. You help, constricting around him, and the thick material of your belt folds under the pressure of how hard he grits his teeth, the needy thing.

"Want you to fuck me," you tell him, and smirk when his eyes drag up to your face from where they'd been trained on your chest. He grunts, a little dazed, and follows automatically when you climb off him. You don't let go of the tail of your belt, keeping it trained over your shoulder as you settle on hand and knees. He follows, of course, unable to do much else, and hums excitedly as he climbs in behind you.

"Hands to yourself," you warn, but he just hums again and slides his palms up your thighs like you knew he would. You yank on the belt, sending him sprawling over top of you. You only realize it was a mistake when he catches himself easily with a fist planted above your head and he chuckles darkly against your ear. You forget how big he is sometimes, how he's only here because he wants to be. He waits until you turn towards him and only pushes back into you when your eyes are locked on his.

You'd be ashamed of the way your mouth falls open if you had the capacity for it, but the way John fills you leaves room for little else.

He knows, damn him. Fucks you so good you forget you're supposed to be in charge. He leans heavily onto you, gets your elbows to fold under you and follows you down, keeps his forearm planted on the mattress above your head. He took the belt tail out of your hand at some point, set himself free so he could murmur praises in your ear with ticklish lips. You swat at him half-heartedly but he just chuckles, holds your hands in his free one once he gets his arm tucked up under your chest. When you cum, he's still right there, panting the same air as you, mumbling about 'Go on, show me how much you fuckin' hate me.'

You get yourself sorted enough to thread your fingers through his short hair and tug and that's all it takes. He groans deep and guttural, nips at your ear lobe so delicately it's as if he's afraid to hurt you, even after everything.

He sighs eventually, sits back on his haunches to look down at you. "So pretty, love," he murmurs and you sigh, doubt creeping in already.

"John -."

He swats your ass to shut you up and you glare back at him, any post-coital affection you might sometimes feel for him long gone. "Said you look fucking pretty like this." The words are honeyed, the tone is threatening. "Gotta fuckin' gag me cause you don't wanna hear it, huh? Well too bad, love. Not done with you yet."

You can't even complain when he buries his face in the seam of you.

#captain john price x you #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #john price x you #john price smut #captain john price smut #drabbles #price smut #💷🔪

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doe-prince · 11 months ago

Note

I love Golden Shrike! I've had my own comic idea for about a decade now, but I'm wondering, for you, how long did it take you to be confident enough with your art to start your comics? had you attempted panels and backgrounds earlier and didn't put them out because you weren't happy with them yet? I'm almost done with my characters and writing but I'm worried I'm not good enough to actually start doing panels

(these are just my views and experiences! there's as many approaches as there's artists)

I was BAD when I started comics, but then I again I was a kid who didn't care if my bunny-cat-digimon comics weren't good enough, it was just fun to do. Which is what it should still be, fun and a fulfillment to you. I think the happiest an artisit can be is when they can draw like they have no audience.

My comics stopped in my teenhood when I actually wanted to make something good. I made so much groundwork but VERY rarely got to the actual page production because I thought everything should be perfect, but we all know there's no such thing. When I noticed all my attempts were doomed, I stopped making them for like ten years until I was zapped with Fuck It We Ball-mentality. And it's the best thing that has happened to me. Childhood whimsy. Make your own toys.

Did I make test pages for Golden Shrike before starting production? Well, the first page of the comic is a test page. And the second page. And the whole first chapter. I just never stopped. Not smart but it's what works for me. Starting these 'test pages' has kickstarted two bigger comics for me, Golden Shrike and Jet and Harley.

Sure I made couple of style tests for GS even though I had a clear visual vision from the start, but Jet and Harley I just started to draw without any real practice pieces, just based on couple of CSP brushes I wanted to use. This isn't very smart as you'll likely find out later that MAN, this style takes too much effort, but if you're unlike me and don't care so much for consistency, you can always simplify it on the fly. And even I've had to change it: I stopped shading after chapter 5, briefly used 3D assets in upcoming pages, now I'm gonna shrink the font a little. They're teeny tiny things for readers, but huge for me.

There's many comic authors who like to plan every little detail before getting to work, but it doesn't work for me so I can't say much about it. I have a skeleton to follow, but I fully flesh out each chapter one by one when I reach them with pages, because I like to revisit my old visions with fresh brains. When you actually get to work, you might realize some scenes aren't needed, or they'd be better changed. Don't be scared to crack some ribs off your story skeleton. Being too loyal to your old vision can often hinder you.

Starting production is the biggest monster in comic making, but after the first step you'll mow over it leaving it in your dust and create a baby you can be so proud of. I wish you, and everyone else on the cusp of their projects GOOD LUCK, HAVE FUN, LOVE YOUR WORK.

#ask #friendwings

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gotham-daydreams · 4 months ago

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Hi hi! Anon that can easily stay stuck in their imagination here-

I'm so glad you answered my ask!! And yeah in a situation like not [] where they will try very hard to not physically hurt the reader a case where they will is more difficult. Honestly it depends on the person's will.

Most people can't take torture nor can that take having their independence taken away.

And while the reader in not [] is very much more angry than numb to them at the end of part 3, I feel it takes a lot to be broken.

Personally spite would keep me from giving in. I don't have a lot to ask for but basic decency and admittance of guilt but the batfam is too prideful and selfish to ever do such a thing.

And I live with pain all the time so being in more pain isn't ideal but it's not something I couldn't handle. In the case were my limbs are taken they only thing they can't take from me is my mind

I mean they could always try other methods, drugs and surgeries (lobotomy is such a horrifying concept fr) and such but honestly doing that would be completely destroying what once was.

The batfam is mostly selfish to the point where they are obsessed with the IDEA of reader not who they actually are. A part of me would hope that in destroying who reader was they would feel remorse and do what's right but the other part of me doubts that.

It would take a lot for them to actually feel to do what's right and at that point what's right is taking reader out back for a final send off.

But in such a case where the mind is gone then you really have nothing but a shattered vase. You can try putting it back together but you'll never succeed. A broken vase is much easier to fix than a shattered one after all.

Overall I have enough spite and mostly enough pain tolerance to stick through my decision of staying with my head in the clouds

In all honestly the human body can only last so long when the person in the body has no will to exist. You can feed it and bathe it, take care of that bag of flesh made to carry your bones and organs with all the right ingredients, but the brain knows when the metaphorical heart isn't in it and will only last so long, no amount of reviving can fix that sadly

It's why I wouldn't mind being kidnapped if they would actually take the steps to put their pride and selfish nature away. Yeah staying trapped in the manor sucks but continuing on with the forgive and forget attitude is a surefire way to get one to despise your guts.

I'm so glad you have returned for a bit!! I apologize for rambling in your ask box I am a certified yapper and hopefully all my yapping doesn't sound as scatterbrained as it does in my head-

Stay safe!! Don't forget to hydrate! I hope you have a lovely day or night

YES!!! YOU GET IT!! HAHA!

Also don't even worry about it, I love all of these long submissions and such and they are such a joy to read!!! I hope you have an amazing day/afternoon/night as well, and again, don't even worry! I'm a certified yapper too LMAO

But seriously you so get it and I love you for that anon! The family is so fixated on the idea of the reader moreso than them as an actual person. They, ultimately, care more about feeding their own delusions and ideas of what could be - and they do that through the reader. Misery loves company, after all, and what I was also basically trying to get at with the previous post which is, well-

They'll grasp at straws. They'll tear away at everything, and destroy whatever they 'have to', and anything that gets in the way if it means getting what they want. No matter how broken it is, they'll keep replacing parts- and even if it'll never be the same, even if you will never be the same, as long as you look the same, and physically are the same person... well, they'll keep that. They'll take what they can get, and they'll make sure of that above all else - even if it means essentially losing you in the process.

If anything, I also feel like my other previous posts I've made today support that- LMAO

That they'll absolutely destroy you, only to physically keep you around, and whereas they'll all have their own methods of treating you and keeping you around - as I do doubt that all of them will be so selfish and self centered to not even try to apologize or work things out in a semi civil manner - its still ultimately harmful regardless. Though, that's mainly because of their borderline obsession with progress.

Specifically, for the Not [ ] Series (and I hope this'll show in Chapter 4 as it is sort of why things go down the way they do), why things have ultimately turned this way and why they get so messy so quickly is because of that obsession of progress. Obviously, they want to be with the reader and be the totally happy family that they never were - but they're biggest problem is that they're impatient. They're impatient and the reader... well, they basically aren't giving the family any avenues to make progress-

WHICH IS OKAY!! It's perfectly fine to want space and time just... away from others, especially if they are the ones that hurt you so deeply and greatly affected their life. Especially when, like the reader, the family made them suffer alone and by themself for years. They were essentially isolated and kept away from everyone except for Alfred, and no one encouraged them. No one was there for them at all, and as they express and say in Chapter 3 - they feel like their efforts were in vain. Everything was all for not, and it's okay to want to be away from that, even if the family technically didn't do anything, because it was ultimately their inaction that caused this in the first place.

The reader just needs space because, until a few months ago, they were around and stuck in a place where they felt unneeded, unwanted, and just... alone. They want more of that space so that they can clear their head and finally focus on what they want to do in their life, because now they're actually getting a chance to actually live their life and they love it! So the prospect of going back.. of being in the mansion again? Of going back to that horrible, isolating life? They can't do it. Especially when they can't bring themself to believe that the family's intentions are genuine. Especially when they just don't want to 'risk' things going back to how they were, because god damn it- they just started living their life!! And it's like the family is trying to take that away again.

Nevertheless, the family will still try to do what they can to get what they want, and if Chapter 4 will show anything, is that when given no room... they'll make it. They'll rip and tear, and most importantly, they'll take.

I feel like the end of Chapter 4, and subsequently- the beginning of Chapter 5 (if i write it how i think I will when i get to that point) will definitely spawn all the spite and dread someone will need for a lifetime, believe me! And honestly I have all hopes for people like you being able to withstand the torment that will come from most of the family. Though, I will also say that, or course, that is most of them.

Push comes to shove, hell, at least Alfred will have you with how reasonable he'll seem - with him definitely beinf the most guilty when it comes to making others out to be worse than they are, and acting as your savior. Both literally and figuratively as he will comfort you and, as usual, act as a voice of reason with some much added sass thrown in there.

I also feel like Bruce, despite his own pride, would also sit down and talk it out - and I won't go into much detail here as it will be shown in Chapter 4, but let's just say he'll try. He may not be very successful as he is a man of few words at his core, but I'll say that he won't be one of the people impulsively tearing off any limbs, that's for sure!

Barbara is in a similar boat as she'll try to reason and talk things out, but she isn't one of the family members 'living' with you, so...

Aaand I won't go too indepth with the others as I feel this post in long enough- though just note as well that Selina would try to be another voice of reason (and also manipulation), and so would Duke - who would try to also hold people back from doing anything 'rash' (since, if anyone is going to not only seem reasonable, but also feel genuine, it would be him. hands down. and sure, maybe it'd be Dick... if the whole argument didn't happen LMAO) if they were in the series, which... I'll definitely try to include them going forward as they are apart of the Batfam- I just didn't have a means to include them into the series, and now that it's lowley wrapping up... well, I think it's just best to include them elsewhere!

Nevertheless, thanks for sending this in! I really enjoyed reading it, along with the first one you sent in as well! I love long submissions so much (though any submission/ask makes me happy as hell), and, again, this was really fun!! I always love a good excuse to yap too, as you can tell...

Regardless, again, have an amazing day/afternoon/night, anon!!! You get it fr 💛💛💛

And if I misread or misunderstood anything... feel free to correct me! I read pretty fast and tend to skip over words and such by accident, which is... hilarious considering things, but yeah! I'm sorry if I misunderstood anything, but regardless, again, this has been fun and I love you 💛

#talking daydreams #yandere batfam #platonic yandere batfam #gn reader #platonic yandere #not series

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writingquestionsanswered · 1 year ago

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I'm realizing the amount of research I have to do for this year's NaNoWriMo novel (which is a lot), so do you have any tips on doing efficient research for stories?

NaNoWriMo: Efficient Story Research

1 - Go General First

Let's say you're writing a story about a fictional astronaut in the 1960s. It can be tempting to just research everything about being an astronaut, being an astronaut in the 1960s, the 1960s in general, life in Houston, the history of Johnson Space Center, what Kennedy Space Center was like in the 60s, and so on... But there's going to be a lot of data there that never actually makes it into your story. So, a good place to start would be to read a short general overview of those things just so they're in your head. Then...

2 - Get Specific for the Needs of Your Story

Next, look at your plot outline or scene list and make notes about specific details you'll need to know about. For example, if you have a scene that takes place in Johnson Space Center, you may need to research the specific building where that scene takes place and get an idea of what it might have been like in the 1960s. Or, let's say you have a scene where your character is doing some sort of simulation to train ahead of the mission... you would need to research astronaut training in the 1960s to find out what kind of simulation they might be doing for training, or if you already know, you can research that specific simulation. But, you don't need to learn everything there is to know about astronaut training in the 1960s unless all of those things make an appearance in your story somehow.

3 - Placeholders Are Your Friends

Most important of all, just remember your first draft isn't your final draft... you don't need to have every single fact fleshed out before you start writing. If you're writing and you get to something that needs to be researched, put in a placeholder so you can research it later. You can literally type [placeholder] or you can just wing it, and correct whatever you come up with later on with something more factual. Either way, placeholders help ensure you don't spend a lot of time researching things you don't actually need to know about.

4 - Watch Out for Rabbit Holes

You're writing this story because the subject matter interests you, but interesting subject matter can lead us to fall down rabbit holes when we're researching. When that happens, it can be easy to justify it as research, but if you find yourself falling down one while researching, ask yourself, "Will any of this make an appearance in my story? Does it help me understand the subject matter more as a writer?" If not, back out of the rabbit hole immediately.

5 - Break It Up/Get Organized

It can really help to break your research down according to your story. Like, all the things you need to research for Act I, Act II, Act III... or maybe by character or setting. By breaking the research up into like parts in this way, it forces you to sift through it all more thoughtfully and makes you really think about what you actually need to know and spend time researching.

I hope that helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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eldritch-spouse · 11 months ago

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Now I want something. I want admin to spank Morell.

I know a regular piglet wouldn't even make him flinch BUT ADMIN, Admin is enhanced with Krulu's strength. So Admin could make Morell moan for sure.

[Fem reader.]

TW: Dubious consent to no consent; Abusive spanking; Blood; Humiliation; Physical and mental abuse.

You're not sure why your Lord approved of this idea so readily.

You wouldn't even call it a proper punishment plan for Morell's latest minor infraction, it was more of a vaguely intrusive thought that surfaced in your mind. To bend the large, proud monster over your knee and have him lose some of that attitude.

Krulu immediately gave you the greenlight to do it, with some manner of glee even, somewhere between genuine anticipation and humor.

You've come to learn your higher seems to sometimes prefer humiliating punishments over the physically painful ones. It leaves a much bigger imprint on the soul than the marring of flesh, he tells you.

Who are you to question his absolute wisdom?

Besides, it'd be lying to say that you aren't looking forward to Morell's reaction. For as rowdy and assertive as he can be with his coworkers, the chef has always had immense respect for you, being one of the first to pipe down and get in line with new directives or goals. It's something you admire in him.

So, surely, he's not going to flip out now is he?

The kitchen is quiet. Sterilized even. You had the bobbles take care of it before leaving. Part of you considered doing this in the warehouse, in front of the pigs he'll have to look in the eyes when the time to slaughter them comes. But that's already too much sadism for a slap on the wrist measure, isn't it?

No. You'll do it in the kitchen, a much more intimate environment.

Sitting on one of the restaurant chairs you dragged inside, you're roughly in the center of the large room itself, next to the main chopping block, legs crossed. Sharpened eyes study the previous work of the bobbles under Morell's hold. His training is efficient, you'll give him that.

It's taking him a while to come back in. Fact of the matter is he's not even in this floor, most likely. That's part of the problem, how often he's leaving the restaurant for extended periods of time. A frown slowly graces your features, nails tapping rhythmically on the iron legs of the chair. Tsk tsk.

You're considering additional punishment methods for his extended work post abandonment when the telltale squeak of boots on tiles hits your ears. He's in a hurry.

The kitchen doors blast open, Morell puffs with physical exertion and looks scratched in several areas, bits of... Gravel? Rock? Cling to his arms and apron, which he dusts off rapidly, opening his mouth to presumably start barking orders at his team of workers, except- He finally gathers enough wit to notice his actual surroundings.

Squinting, frowning, then finally spotting you. There's a short, vapid blink before he reacts.

" M- Admin, miss! " The shroom greets, nodding respectably before quickly closing the doors behind his large figure.

The monster looks aggravated, guilty. He obviously knows you'd never like seeing him deviating during work hours. You're willing to bet he's gulping behind that thick pink scarf. Morell scratches at his forearm and impulsively keeps dusting himself off, waiting. " Can I get'cha anythin' ta eat? "

" Morell. " You smile, sarcasm all but dripping off your words. " Pleasure seeing you here, for once. "

The mushrooms monster's hands rise immediately in a sort of placation attempt almost unbecoming of his large stature. " Ah know- I know it looks bad, miss, but it ain't like ah'm leavin' the floor ta screw 'round- "

" Did I ask for excuses? " You cut in.

Morell pipes down instantly. " No ma'am, ah'm sorry. "

And this is why he stands out to you. His obedience to authority figures. Morell has always been the kind of monster man who doesn't just bend for others at a whim. He's a stubborn bull of a guy, and all that's missing are the horns to furnish him. When with his coworkers, the shroom is rough and brutish, shooting them down the moment they attempt to mess with him, getting loud, in their faces, threatening them whenever they think they know better. When you first hired the chef, you wee already counting on having to use a sterner hand to keep him in line, and yet, since the very first day, he's regarded you with a courtesy and level of respect that's almost strikingly out of character compared to other sides of him.

Krulu shared this initial wonder too, finding it amusing that the shroom adapted extremely quickly to the roles he should play before you and your Lord. He knows better than to oppose you, sides with you, is very cooperative and available. Commendable qualities.

" I've always liked that about you. "

" ... Beg pardon? "

" How polite you are, without even having to be taught better. " Something you can't say for all.

In spite of the flattery, the chef doesn't relax. " Thank you, ma'am. "

Funnily enough, his accent sometimes takes a backseat in these moments too. Maybe because he's trying to speak like you? You could pick him apart all day, honestly.

" I don't want your apologies, I want you to know your punishment. "

He looks like he wants to desperately say something. Explain the situation, say that he's not at fault, that it can't be helped. You have an inkling of an idea of what might be wrong, more gargoyle shenanigans. Morell looks into your challenging hues and nods, bitterly swallowing any words. Fear flashes briefly in that dark canvas of a face.

It's not often he misbehaves enough to warrant punishments. The most he tends to get is a slap on the wrist for playing too much with the slaughter piglets.

" Of course, ma'am... "

Good boy.

" You're having issues dealing with the gargoyles again. "

Morell nods, hands over his chest and fingers tapping his elbows, the subject very quickly drawing a furious grimace from him.

" They're breaking in and taking meats, finished orders, body parts, sometimes even bobbles. "

Another nod.

" I would be angry too. But you know what I wouldn't do, Morell? Take it upon myself to go out there and hunt them down, when there's already someone who can do that, employed in these very grounds. "

The tapping turns into a tight grip.

" Why not come to Belo about this? A power such as him, who has wings to pursue them with flight, who holds a weapon capable of obliterating them with little effort, whose job is precisely to maintain order here. "

" Buh-! "

" Hush. " Your warning is heeded. " Don't step outside your role, Morell. Perhaps you have the strength to take one or two down, but your effectiveness lies here, in the restaurant. That- " You motion past the kitchen doors. " Does not concern you. "

He sighs quietly, rolling his shoulders. " You're right, ma'am. "

" Good. I'm glad we could get on the same page. " You grin, uncrossing your legs and patting a stocking clad thigh. " Now, for your punishment this time, I want you to bend over my knees. "

Oh. This is precious.

At first, the cook makes a face like he's certain he didn't really hear right, giving himself a few seconds to see if he can decipher what you really must have said. And then, slowly, it starts to sink in, the realization isn't the only thing that sinks however, that expression falling into a somber and wide-eyed look, questioning you. Wounded even.

And hat's how you know it's going to be effective.

" Ah... Come again? "

Oh, the hopelessness.

" You heard me, Morell. " There's no doubt he did.

Another few stunted seconds pass where he seems to be mourning his dignity, presumably. Your eyes glint with cruel anticipation.

" ... Do I hav'ta, miss? "

So polite. Adorable, even. He's smart enough to understand he doesn't really have a choice, somewhere between bargaining and pleading.

Suffocating the urge to giggle and kick your legs, you offer Morell an almost mocking solemn nod, as if it pained you too to be doing this. An open palm claps gently in your thigh, hurrying him.

The chef's face scrunches again, and if the skin directly under his cap weren't so dark, you would probably be able to spot the stress creases forming on his forehead. He shuts his eyes and takes a silent deep breath, reaching back to undo his apron. Morell takes his sweet time getting ready, and because he's been obedient thus far, you allow him those precious moments of peace. The desperation is such so that he even takes the time to fold his dirtied butcher's apron.

Finally, wearing only pants and boots, the monster stands before you, defeated before you've laid but a single finger upon him. Brilliant work.

" Knee. " You insist.

Slightly luminescent eyes scroll from his own massive figure to your much smaller one. " Ma'am... Ain't it gonna hurt? "

He knows better. He's seen better. The force and resilience bestowed upon you by your Lord knows hardly a limit. Morell could throw himself onto you, where as a normal human's bones would creak and shatter, you'd merely wonder how to best castigate him.

" I don't stutter, Morell. "

Boy, does that get him moving.

Somewhat awkwardly, the cook sinks to his knees. If his peculiar skin allowed it, you know he'd be covered in goosebumps when he angles himself across your legs. A tremor wracks his body, though you're quick to lower a hand on his broad back, encouraging the shroom to let his weight settle on your thighs.

A few seconds pass in that stillness. That delicious silence, the walls dripping anticipation and Morell radiating a level of mortification that has the spectator behind your eyes grinning with glee.

And then, as if gouging the right moment to lunge, you yank his pants and underwear down. The way Morell jumps could almost be compared to a frightened cat's leap, a tremor followed by this choked noise of embarrassment that all his coworkers would surely mock him over for eternity. The chef's rump perfectly fits his worked physique, yet there's an unmistakable softness there, an appealing shape, something Santi has openly admired before- To his own detriment, as such was quickly followed by a wooden spoon to the top of his head.

It's a nice ass, you'll admit. Shame he doesn't let anyone touch it.

Snickering at his panic, you soothingly rub a hand over his backside, feeling the give of his bizarre anatomy. Shroom monsters don't have the same type of skeletal structure humans do, their bodies are spongier in nature, yet by no means does that mean they're less sturdy. Humming peacefully, you take the time to squeeze over the spots that cover his blue hide, fondling the grown monster currently surrendered to you in thought.

Your forearm begins to sprout blackened veins, lovingly possessive growths that curl over your limb and encompass it, appropriate it. In a matter of seconds, Lord Krulu has transformed your hand into one of his, dark and deftly long fingers furnished with the claws of an apex predator. You raise it in the air with nothing but pride and adoration.

And oh, if Morell had any hope that your spankings would be tame, then it'd be a compliment to call him a fool.

Because when that same hand crashes down, the muted force of your god thunders across his entire body.

And he squeals.

Nicely done.

Both of you freeze. Your hand doesn't sting minimally, but the imprint immediately left on Morell's asscheek is a testament to the level of strength that was so effortlessly doled out.

No one moves for a second, the shock of that bizarre bleat being processed. You'd never guess a sizable monster like Morell could make such a noise, like a confused animal in pain.

The grin that crawls up your cheeks is sickening.

" What was that, Mori? Did one of your pigs escape? "

He's panting, quietly, but not subtly enough to miss.

" ... No. "

" No? "

" N-No miss. "

You snicker. " Alright, must have been my imagination. "

A tune is hummed serenely when your hand rises off his already overheated flesh, and the way the chef sucks in a desperate lungful of air is as riveting as it gets. But like Hell you'll give him the privilege of certainty, lowering said palm again with a deceitful gentleness, petting him, resting.

The next whack has spittle flying past grit teeth. He muffles part of the humiliating noise, at the cost of drooling on himself like a beast. Morell shivers atop you like a stuttering car engine. Krulu laughs.

" Honestly, I'm almost sad to be bruising a rump this pretty, Morell... " You muse, watching his cerulean hue steadily bleed into navy bruises that muddle his naturally glowing spots. " But it does make for an interesting sight. "

He stays quiet, and, in retaliation, you let that very same hand wander a little. Krulu's features recede to allow your human softness to brush over his skin, moving between the chef's legs. Instantly, there's a sudden tension in his entire body, more so than when he feared the spanking, and although you only teasingly feather over his asshole, Morell squirms in endless discomfort as if you had stuck pins and needles on him. Pressure against his perineum rips a grunt out of him, though reaching past the butcher's balls reveals the expected, he's entirely limp.

Something easily fixed.

" Part your legs a little. "

The shroom monster gulps, voice only a tad hoarse. " Admin, miss... "

Be it with the sharpest claws or bluntest nails, most men don't enjoy having their family jewels crushed. " Part. Your. Legs. "

He does, arms flexing in suffering until you relent. You don't need to warn him not to make you repeat yourself again. His reward is a much softer grasp around his manhood. And, with no pain to distract him, it's easy to get Morell to twitch in response, even if his fear is still palpable.

You stroke him until he hardens in your hand, something easy to achieve considering this sick fuck loves making his terrified little piggies worship his cock before he guts them into a dish. There's nothing like a human's touch to many of the workers here, and he's no exception. You can't help lick your lips when he starts silently rocking the slightest amount into your motions, soft sighs leaving his slowly relaxing form. Goading him further into this state of mindless pleasure, you offer him slightly faster friction, until he's properly bucking into your hand, ruffling groans of enjoyment.

He could never have spotted the spare arm sprouting from your back, could never see its dark length extend in the air-

Before it slammed down with enough force to rattle the skeleton out of anyone.

" HHHRK- "

You laugh, loud and jovial, this childish cackle ringing through the kitchen at your Master's impatient and cruel swat. Poor little Morell jolts and groans openly, the growing wave of pleasure interrupted and now intermingled with shock. His confused mind struggles to process the difference between pleasure and pain, lumping both together in a way that has him throbbing.

He seems to still at his own body's response.

Perfection.

You don't cease pumping his cock when the third arm lifts again, forcing the chef to experience both extremes of sensation when he's spanked again. He spasms uselessly, you bet his eyes are bulging by now.

Time to force him to think.

Whack

" What area of The Clergy's Eye have you been assigned to? "

" Tha- Kitchen! " He struggles, huffing.

Whack

" Where shall you stay when working then? "

More confused twitching in your hand. " Kh- Kitchen! "

SMACK

" Are you going to leave it again to do things that don't concern your station? "

" NnNO! "

The pace of your hand quickens, yet so does the your Master's rightful penance. Morell's bruised, indigo-tinted behind starts blooming into shades of abused purple. Tattoos of Krulu's divine hand furnish it nicely. You have no doubt this monster will sleep on his stomach for the following week.

Thwack thwack THWACK

" Will I have to do this again, Morell? "

He sobs, a real ugly sob that he quickly tries to suck back in, making you swiftly lean down to spot... Ah, the first few tears falling on the tiles. Good.

" No- No please- " And yet he still leaks precum like a faucet. What's going through that head right now?

Pleasure, pain, fear, regret, shame that reaches the skies.

Your Lord generously offers.

" You learn fast, I'm sure I won't have to discipline you again, right? "

The chef shakes like a leaf, yet there's no denying he's close to orgasm. His legs flex from more than just pain now. " Y- Yes, ma'am! "

CRACK

" Though I'd say you're enjoying it if I didn't know better. "

He makes a sound somewhere between a whine and a blubbered wail. " No- 'M not, please- " It's the most pathetic thing you've ever heard coming from him.

" Mhm, okay then, I believe you. "

The next set of unrelenting spanks makes even you cringe, Krulu's force jostling not just the fully grown monster but yourself as well. It's actually a little exciting to witness. Spots where Krulu's claws intentionally caught onto the tender flesh turn into depraved welts, droplets of blood flying out with each merciless motion, spraying the snow-tiled ground and even yourself.

Morell screams, wails, shrieks like his arms are getting ripped out their sockets. It's a symphony of panicking pain that hardly lets him breathe in between each tormenting snap and quick pump. He makes the mistake of sucking too much air into his lungs at a time, then starts coughing and hiccupping hopelessly.

The moment your Lord halts is when your fervent motions take the stage, and Morell, tortured, oversensitive and disoriented, lasts less than five seconds before throbbing hard and shooting ropes all over your fingers. You pump his cock throughout the entire orgasm, milking it, making a mess that you then wipe on the inside of his thigh, letting his cum-soaked length rest.

Another pause stretches for a long few moments where everyone is winding down. And, as adrenaline seeps out the mushroom monster's pores, he breaks.

Totally limp upon you, Morell attempts to fruitlessly hide his face behind broad arms while his sniffling and gasping escalates into the most defeated, utterly humiliated sobbing there is. He struggles with breathing properly, scratching his own throat as tears splatter steadily on the ground, keening whines bubbling out of the still shaking man. In his despair, he tries to huddle closer to you, tries to fold himself into a ball even with your legs in the way.

You don't know if it's your Lord's enjoyment or your own, but the view sends a pulse of arousal straight up your cunt, cheeks heating.

" There there... " You murmur, rubbing a comparatively cool hand around the edges of his punished skin. The way he tenses and tries to push his sobbing behind a tightened jaw is adorable. " It's all over now. "

The trembling doesn't stop, but the butcher manages to quiet his own wailing within a few minutes. Tears still drip onto the ground.

A few taps get him to move off your legs, but Morell quickly finds out changing positions is torturous, sharp burning stings eliciting choked grunts and heaves from the monster. He settles, embarrassingly, for laying almost on his stomach, prostrated before you on the ground.

Grinning, so wet you can feel your panties soaking, you push the chair away and sit on the ground next to the recovering monster, pulling his face onto your lap and petting that large cap of his.

Morell chokes, clinging onto your clothes. You didn't think he'd break this hard, but it's a lovely reaction.

" 'M sorry... 'M-... Sorry... "

And, as you study his sorry state, you can't help but smile warmly. Bruised ass darker than night, blood still spilling, half-hard cum-coated dick out, arms and face wet with tears, grasping onto you for dear life...

You wouldn't mind doing this more often.

#Morell oc #mellsfern #terato #monsterfucker #terato tag #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #monster x human #not sfw #minors dni

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yestrday · 8 months ago

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the first thing I think of when Reader is portrayed as naive and innocent in an AU is how in the future they’re worse then all their hybrids combined, and I’m getting some major brainrot over the hybrid AU so just hear me out here ‼️‼️

Reader was of course innocent and naive, sheltered in every way, but that was before their father suddenly decided that playing the role of a doting father in public would boost his dying image more then keeping reader locked up

So Readers thrust into the life of an heir, forced to come to grips with the cold harsh reality that is the business world, and realize that they’re never going to have any true power or freedom as long as their father is still around

So they plan and scheme, analyzing their fathers greatest achievements and his worst failures, learning all about how to play the business world, and people in general, like a fine tuned instrument. Just patiently waiting till their fathers gradual cover ups over the years suddenly make their way into the public eye.

And when it’s revealed that Readers parent abandoned them and then picked them up again for his entertainment, forcing them to turn to mere hybrids for genuine human interaction?

Well, both those concerned for Reader, and those not, take note. Suddenly investigations are happening and their fathers tax fraud and million dollar bribes are revealed, and oh what’s that, he’s also involved in multiple different crime organizations? How horrible

Reader miraculously finds themself to be the CEO how every company that their father had, an owner of all of his properties, and immeasurably rich beyond belief when their father dies in jail under simply tragic circumstances.

Only this time, Reader won’t let the opportunity to take the world by storm pass by. After all, they have a rather beautiful collection of hybrids waiting at home for them, and you know how clingy beloved pets are when you make them wait.

You cant blame the poor darlings though, the public whispers behind lustful gazes and adoring stares, they just can’t get enough of their powerful owner

actually anon this ask (which has been fermenting in my ask for a year now) has been the inspiration in why there's been a whole heir sub plotline in my hybird works.

i like the idea of the hybrids subtly corrupting the innocent bird that's been in their cage for far too long, now able to spread their wings but just doesn't know how. they feed darling whispers about how their parent abandoned them, how they're the only family they have. and all of them are oh so eager to follow reader's convoluted schemes to bring down their father and the company's enemies.

i find that corrupting darling would have many benefits to the hybrids. one, well, corruption arc? it would be just so lovely to see your naivety crushed and broken, making you rely on them not as your protectors but also as your fellow sinners in this plan. two, since you're so influential, you'll be able to at least influence society's views on hybrids. you'll be in a high enough position to influence lawmakers to loosen their binds on hybrids, to make hybrids equal... idk, just a thought.

this only applies to zhongli, since he's bound by a contract to your father, but this could be the perfect opportunity to revenge. what better way to take revenge on the man who coerced you into a humiliating contract than watch his own flesh and blood (who he does love despite all his callousness) impeach him from his throne and throw him into jail. it's perfect. plus, he'll be able to spend freedom with you forever and ever <3

#yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #yandere x reader #genshin impact x reader #yester.shorts #yester.au — hybrids 🐾

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phantoms-lair · 10 months ago

Text

Freelancers

People called them henchmen or thugs. They called themselves 'Freelancers'. Like Mercenaries, but cheaper and more all purpose. Good luck getting a mercenary to guard a door all night long.

Back in the old days, going from a freelancer to working for one specific group was reason to celebrate. Better job security and benefits. The Bosses looked after you more if you were one of their own.

That was before, when Gotham's crime scene was run by mobs and old money. Now it was run by whackjobs.

Make money, edge out the competition, he understood that. Freeze the world into eternal winter? Less so.

But freelancers take the jobs that were there, they just had to be not so invested. You took the job for the pay and did your best not to make the wackadoodles mad. You taught the new guys to put on clown makeup if they worked for the Joker so he wouldn't recognize you out of it and reminded those working for Freeze to wear an extra layer of thermals. Don't get attached, you'll never mean anything to them. Look at what happened to Quinzel.

There were always some who did get attached. And it wasn't like the old days where you were just looking to be a made man. There were those who want to help Scarecrow develop his toxins and study it's effects or got asymmetrical face tattoos to symbolize Two-Face's dichotomy.

These former Freelancers were mockingly referred to as True Believers and hearing someone had permanently decided to follow one was referred to as them 'Finding their forever home' like they were a stray dog. Because let's face it, you were worth less than a dog to them.

He'd been accused of it himself, when he'd expressed a preference for working for Penguin. But the plain fact was for all he used the theming like the wackadoodles, he operated like the old days. The old system of selling intel and edging out the competition and earning money and look, he may not have particularly liked Cobblepot, but he knew where he stood with him and he would take it. As long as he did what he was contracted to do, Cobblepot would pay him and he didn't have to worry about being shot at the flip of a coin or, dunno, maybe because smog was the wrong shade of gray? Who even knew with the Joker?

But he was still a Freelancer and he took the jobs he was offered. So when some new up-and-comer calling himself Red Hood made an offer? He took it.

First thing his new boss did was sit him down in an interview. And he actually took this as a good sign. The only other one to do that in recent memory was Cobblepot, who wanted his operations to run with maximum efficiency.

There was a little more to it than Cobblepot. Penguin just wanted to know how to use you best. This guy wanted to know a bit more. Didn't take him long to figure out this guys had some lines, especially where kids were concerned, and wouldn't take on anyone who was tempted to go outside them.

Still, he was deemed a good fit and got to work. And it turned out Hood was basically the opposite of Penguin. Penguin appeared to be a wackadoodle, but operated old school. Hood appeared old school (no theming unless you counted his helmet, which was practical in both terms of protection and not letting the Bat see your face), but didn't take long to start acting out like a wackadoodle.

The difference between him and the rest, though, was it was just him. He didn't theme the freelancer's working for him or even bring them along when he taunted the Bat or made moves at Black Mask. He basically established his crime empire and then had the freelancers run it while he did his thing. Kept tabs on it, of course, so no one got any ideas.

It wasn't hard to see Hood was playing a slightly different game from most of Gotham. He wanted something from the Bat and the big names. But it wasn't attention or a piece of the pie. Hood was angry about something and he was going to get his pound of flesh over it.

Well, no skin off his nose. He did his job, did it well, got paid and that was that.

The first thing he noticed as off (well, more off than Gotham usually was) was that things around him were getting...better? The girls on the streets looked healthier and had less bruises. The kids looked better too, both the ones on the street and those 'lucky' enough to live in the housing here.

Things getting better were always a prelude to them getting worse, so he was on his guard. Some would call him paranoid. He'd just say he'd lived in Gotham long enough.

It came to a head for him when Hood came in to pull a few boys, including himself, because someone needed to be taught a lesson.

Thankfully with Hood, someone was never a Rogue or a Bat if he brought the boys along (That's the term, Gracie. We know you're a woman. We know you can Freelance as well as any of us, geeze). So he wasn't quite fearing for his life, even if he'd take it as seriously as it was.

Their target was a big name supplier-dealer group who worked right at the edge of Hood's territory. It had been a long time since he'd been involved in a bloodbath like this. It was like back in the worst times in Chicago history. Gunsmoke and blood and it all crescendoing with a building ablaze, merchandise and bodies (not all of them dead yet) still inside.

"The fuck did these guys do?" Gracie whistled.

"Sold prescriptions at a discount to Alley residents who couldn't afford their meds normally." Hood growled. "Except he cut them with heroin."

He couldn't help but wince. Yeah, getting people addicted to your product was the first step as a dealer, but even for Gotham that was a scummy way to do it.

"Including some meds for prenatal care."

Oh. Oh that was vile. He felt the sheer hatred in Hood's voice reflected in his own heart. "Sorry I killed as many of them as I did. Shoulda left them to die slow."

Hood looked at him and though it was impossible to read through the helmet, he could almost feel an appraising look. "Good work tonight. All of you take tomorrow off. And Gracie, you raised a good point. Spread the word. They make a shit example if no one knows why they had to die."

It was on the following day off, drinking in a bar, that several things came together for him. His first interview with Hood sending out feelers for lines. The solid and lethal enforced rules about kids. The improved state of the alley.

Hood was trying to help. This whole criminal enterprise was about helping the people of Crime Alley. Hood wasn't naïve like the Bat. He knew putting people away wouldn't end it. So he did what any of the old families would have done and took control. You couldn't stamp out crime. That was true everywhere but even more so in Gotham. But if you could control it, you could aim it.

The gangs still fought and died, but they kept it to themselves. The pimps learned hitting their girls would come back on them tenfold. People had even stopped trying to traffic the street kids from the Alley.

And now a big name group was wiped out. Not because they had invaded Hood's territory, but because they'd targeted pregnant women.

Hood was trying to make things better and it was working. And he was a part of that! It made him feel...respectable.

It was a terrifying feeling.

But all good things come to an end. The Bat arresting his current boss was something they all were prepared for.

The Bat courting him was something different altogether.

Not romantically. Lots of his coworkers were glad Catwoman didn't usually hire freelancers, no one wanted to see that. But the Bat obviously had figured out Hood was trying to help and wanted to recruit him.

And Hood was starting to fold. It was small things. Less vehement refusals. Chatting with Nightwing. Hood was considering.

And Bats and Birds didn't need Freelancers.

But he knew Hood respected them enough that he wouldn't make turning them in his initiation. And there was writing on the wall this time. Not just needing to find a job quick after an operation went bust. He'd brush up on his resume, and he'd heard Penguin was trying to expand, so there was sure to be an opening.

Why didn't that feel as good as it used to?

He'd worked long term jobs before, but he'd never felt bad about leaving. Hood paid well, kept his expectations reasonable, and...and...

He'd liked feeling like he was respectable. That his work was doing more than lining a boss's pocket. That he was helping and he wanted to keep it up.

He slumped down next to Gracie who was going over some documents. "Gracie, I think I found my forever home."

"There, there." She patted him on the head in condolence. Or like a dog. He wasn't sure and he wasn't in the right emotional state to care.

"I never wanted this, Gracie. I was proud of being a freelancer. And now I got a place I want to stay, but the writing’s on the wall. Bat's don't use freelancers!"

"Our boss ain't a Bat."

But for how long?

"Monthly reports looking good." Hood looked over the documentation. "Any other business we need to look into tonight?"

Gracie slid another folder in front of him. "We need to start planning our reorganization. Getting it out of the way now will make it less of a bitch when it happens."

Hood tilted his helmet to the side like a curious dog. "Reorganization?" he said, something dangerous in his tone.

But Gracie had no fear. "Batman's been trying to get you on his side for months. But the fact that you've started altering your tactics in the last few weeks to be more in line with his ideals means you've decided, at least subconsciously, to go along with it. So if we're changing this gang from a criminal organization to a vigilante one, there's going to need to be restructuring and procedural updates."

Hood was quiet for a moment and he was worried Gracie had just really, really overstepped. "How many of you feel this way?"

He shrugged. "Either way, you know. Stay a Crime Lord or work with the Bats. I'm with you, Boss." he said like it wasn't the most insane and dangerous statement he'd ever uttered.

He was even more surprised to hear more agreements at the table around him.

"That so?" Hood leaned back in his chair, relaxed, but there was something pleased in his tone. Almost like a child that had been unexpectedly praised. "So what were you thinking?"

Gracie shot him an 'I told you so' look. Because she had been right. The Boss wasn't a Bat. From the beginning he did things his own way.

And from the beginning that way had always involved them.

#Ghost Writing #Batman #Red Hood #No clue where this came from

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lalalian · 2 months ago

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helloooo

i’m making my own script (omg power and respect to you this shit is hard) about ruling over a fantasy kingdom, sorta like game of thrones inspired

my kingdom is VERY loosely based off of like… lyanna mormont’s house mormont in bear island (please look her up she’s kinda badass imo) and like….. do you have any tips on how to script your own kingdom? and all the neighbouring kingdoms and building world lore and all that stuff

any tips at all would help me immensely i’m struggling over here (literally how do you do it you’ve got the alruna dr AND the aethergarde dr with shit tons of lore my god that’s a feat to come up with, props to you)

thank very much, a struggling scripter

hihi!

First thing you should consider is your starting point. Your starting point can be something you're most interested (this is what I did with Aethergarde) or you can start with the general idea of your kingdom/world.

I know that most people recommend writers to start from the outside in, like the world itself-- or the inside in, which would be building the main cast first.

But if you start from the technical stuff first, it’s really easy to lose motivation! Scripts and books are different; essentially, writing tips shouldn’t be completely synonymous with script writing tips!

the problem with using general writing tips for scripts

Okay so there isn't actually a problem with it, per se, but you will get stuck for a long time on things that don't matter; you'll never end up scripting stuff that do matter.

What doesn't matter?

I know that i scripted some of these in my aethergarde academy DR, but exports and imports, extreme detail with the languages in your DR, and extremely minor conflicts that wouldn't really affect your experience in your DR.

(In my defense, I have the main stuff already written down 😒😒)

This doesn't mean that you shouldn't script these things at all, but just know that it's more optional than other things.

Script the less important stuff once you got the important stuff done!

Think about your experience first, then script the things that matter less if you'd like to.

Does knowing what kinds of plants grow in the southern part of your kingdom matter as much as your friends, your DRself, and the DR time line (plot)? Most shifters are less inclined to shift with an incomplete script, especially if the script doesn't even have anything about you or your experience in it. But if the vast majority of what you want to experience is down already, you'd be more motivated to shift there instead of still painstakingly working on that script.

When you settle down to shift there, you're less likely to wrangle with thoughts like "Oh but I haven't scripted this or that..." if the main shit is done.

How much time is in-between events?

Novels typically don't focus on how often an event happens, but with shifting, please for the love of god give yourself some time between particularly stressful events.

Trust me, your life will still feel as action-packed as it does here.

You don't have to script "2 weeks after X, this happens, and then 5 weeks after XX..." especially if you plan to remember the plot. If you happen to recall how long your breaks are, it'll make you unnecessarily antsy on the day it happens.

YOU WILL BURN OUT before EVER getting to the things that matter!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Your DR isn't a book; you don't need to convey a fully fleshed out world to your 'readers'-- the only reader of your novel is you.

Subconsciously, you know what you want the world to be like, you just haven't put it into words.

Again, it would be disappointing to burn out and discard a script before you even get to your DRself.

Always remember that the end goal is to shift there.

Never forget that this is a DR-- A place you can go to. Stop scripting somewhere. You have the knowledge of shifting, so use it! Sure, writing what you want is fun, but isn't doing what you want even more fun?

Find a stopping point or else you'll be working on that script forever, and you'll never shift.

SCRIPT THAT YOUR WORLD HAS PLUMBING SYSTEMS/SOME TYPE OF SYSTEM THAT ALLOWS ITS PEOPLE TO KEEP THEMSELVES CLEAN

Never ever EVER forget this. I nearly did with Aethergarde-- I added this affirmation last month to my script. I know that your subconscious knows what you want, but I think I'd cry if I was prompted to shit in a hole without toilet paper. No. Absolutely not. Even if there’s a slim chance of shifting to a world like that… I would rather not want to worry about that stuff 😭😭😭😭

Oh and if you plan to have kids, I recommend adding this affirmation to your script (this is directly copy and pasted from my aethergarde script)

There is significant studies in childbirth, at least as much as my OR, because of this, mothers typically do not die from childbirth and childbirth isn’t painful because of a similar medicine to an epidural… and of course, proper birthing practices

So... why not using writing tips?

We aren't full on authors, not all of us have the grit to write a full on book, and you won't know that until you do. Again, you're going to burn out sooner than you think.

Writing takes time, a LOT of time, but luckily for you, there's so much stuff you can skip. Don't make things so hard on yourself!!

Script you don't remember the plot

It'd be a lot more fun if you didn't remember everything; you'd get to experience everything authentically like everyone else in your DR will!

Ok now onto the actual world building tips….

I’m assuming you’re starting off your script with your kingdom; so I’ll start here for this post!

What kind of fantasy is your world?

Is it high fantasy, low fantasy, or historical fantasy? (I made that last one up, but like I’ll get to it soon, ok?)

High fantasy is set in a world totally different than ours. Some examples would be Avatar (the blue ppl one, not the anime) and Aethergarde Academy.

Low fantasy is set in a world much like our modern world, but there are some fantastical elements in it. A very famous example of this is Harry Potter.

I would define historical fantasy to be a world that is set sometime in the past (usually the Victorian era or medieval era), but it has fantastical elements (any Isekai otome manhwa with magic in it would fall in this category). I think house of dragons fall here too, though I’ve only watched like 4 episodes so far.

If you’re looking into making a futuristic DR, genres like steampunk, solarpunk, sci-fi, cyberpunk, cyberprep would prob suit your vibes more, but I won’t get into those today.

That narrows your DR down to historical fantasy!

Names

This is the worst part of scripting (actually this is the second worst part, government is the ABSOLUTE WORST).

Idk abt you or anyone else reading this, but I’m extremely picky with names. A name has to fit, yk, so don’t fret if you take a long time to find names.

First, start off with name generators.

This generator is PEAK, it has name generators for literally everything. But, personally, the kingdom names never really resonate with me. I typically use Pinterest or look at the names based on ethnicities to come up with names for my kingdoms & empires.

If you’re as picky as me, I wouldn’t recommend using ChatGPT to get names. The free version I use has such cheesy names, I’ll ask it for mysterious and dark guy names for books, and it’ll give me shit like ‘Lucifer Blackthorn’… like really… really…

Sometimes it has given me good names tho, I’d say the academia based names are pretty okay (Straus’ last name was from ChatGPT).

Another thing you could do is find a modern name you like and mix up the spelling a bit; I do this really often with character names.

Ex:

Lily > Liliya

Alexander > Alec, Xander, Xavie, or Xavier

Alfred > Alund

Callie > Caelye

Final resort for me is Google translate. I suggest translating random words that pertain to your kingdom into Greek or Latin (especially Latin), then taking pieces of those words and smushing them together.

Government

If you’re going to use ChatGPT for anything, I’d use it to make the government for your DR.

If you don’t want to use AI, I’d start researching government stuff, or go with the standard nobility/monarch format.

Languages

Remember, it’s best to script language stuff after everything major is done.

When you get to language stuff, I honestly just recommend describing it + making up some words in that language rather than going into extreme detail.

ChatGPT is a good option for this too; when I asked abt language, reya’s response had stuff like: Alphabet, Phonology, Script Design, Word Order, Morphology, Vocabulary, Tones and Aesthetics (sound + visual), & Cultural Context. Personally, I just say shit like ‘[insert language] has a [characteristic] and [characteristic] tone like [insert language here]’ or I say it’s a mix between a few languages. I really like Welsh for some reason, so noble language in my Aethergarde DR has the same kind of sound welsh does.

Here are some characteristics I’d give some languages, you can base your characteristics for your languages from this if you’d like:

The channel Wikitongues has a lot of ppl just speaking their language!

Smooth: Korean, Welsh, German

Regal: Welsh, Tibetan, Hindi, Hmong, Yoruba

Nasally: Japanese, Thai

Harsh: Russian, French, Cantonese

Round: (American) English

Sing song-y: Valspeak/ Valley girl accent (English), Hmong, Kazakh, Italian

Sharp: Russian

Throaty: Swedish,

Assertive/Strong: Spanish (Spaniard) (DON'T KILL ME, MY DAD IS FROM BOTH SPAIN AND MEXICO), Okinawan (Japanese, but it’s so distinct from other Japanese dialects)

Breathy: Navajo

Quick: Khmer

Social Hierarchy

(this is a good website that explains the power each title has, but the actual product is like... kinda a scam, don't buy from them)

Personally, I'd just go with the whole baron to emperor thing, though you can also just switch up the names of the titles and have the same kind of idea.

For reference, this is (to my knowledge) the aristocrat social status hierarchy (using all male terms):

MOST POWER

Emperor (leader of the empire)

King (leader of a kingdom)

Archduke

Duke

Marquess

Count/Earl

Viscount

Baron

Commoner (not a noble)

LEAST POWER

Map

If you really want to start with the world itself, I highly suggest making a map. I made mine on inkarnate!

You don't have pay to make a good map, just use canva or some sort of drawing app to make labels and border lines.

General Ideas

Do you like to read? If not, find photos that would reflect the architecture or scenarios that you'd see in your DR.

Reading can help you get some sort of idea on what you want from this DR!

conclusion?

Was this helpful? I'm not sure 😭😭 I'm super tired rn, so if there's any typos, I'm sorry.. try to ignore them; feel free to ask for clarification!

#shiftblr #reality shifting #shifting community #shifting blog #lalalian #desired reality #shifters #shifting diary #shifttok #scripting

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