#k writes and stuff!

[someone1348]

It's happening again, I'm saying this now it's been years since I wrote anything, so I might be a bit rusty! However! I've seen inside out 2 twice now, and I genuinely love it with all my heart! So regardless of anything, I'm making a fic! I don't know if I'll post it, but I'm inspired, so I'm making it!

The people in this: Lee!Anxiety, Ler!Joy

Tw: General Anxiety and Tickles, of course, so if you don't like it, keep scrolling :]

If you have not seen the new movie, inside out 2, I don't recommend reading this! There's slight spoilers, so just be warned! But yeah, it's based on the new one!

With all of that being said I hope you all enjoy! :]

-K <3

____________~☆°♡°☆°♡°☆~______________

Hands off the console!

After everything that happened at the three day hockey camp, things have gotten a lot better for both Riley and her mind.

She's a more complex person now, but that's because she's growing, and her emotions are growing with her! Throughout the summer, Riley's emotions have found ways of getting along, working together, and handling some of the more...intense...emotions.

It felt perfect! Too perfect...it was Riley's first game today with her new team. And yeah, some days are harder than others, but there was something off about today. Joy could feel it. She kept looking over at Anxiety as she would see her fidget, desperately wanting to touch the console.

Joy exhaled and smiled "I know you're worried anxiety! but Riley's got this! It's a great day! Our girls got it! Just work on the breathing exercises we learned"

Anxiety looked over at her quickly and nodded, trying to breathe, but her mind was elsewhere, running a million miles a minute. Fidgeting with her hands, she couldn't watch as Riley stepped onto the ice. With every buzzer sound, she flinched, every cheer, every little thing was bothering her. She decided to sit in her special chair until it ended.

It felt like an eternity for the anxious emotion. Her eyes stared hard at the console. And to her demise... they lost. On their very first game, with a new team, they lost! The orange emotions eyes went wide. Sadness took over the console, causing their girl to frown and sulk with the team before joy took over again.

"We'll get them next time! You don't learn anything from success, come on guys!" Riley said as the team smiled and nodded. Things were all good. They went out for pizza, and the emotions relaxed. Everyone except anxiety who desperately clung onto her chair. She didn't trust herself to get up. She knew if she did, she'd run straight for the console.

After a fun time with the new team, Riley was safe in her room, about to go to bed. "Are you gonna join us and get some rest Anxiety?" Joy asked as Anxiety was still glued to the seat.

"Y-Yeah! I'm just gonna sleep here tonight!" She forced a smile as Joy nodded. She didn't trust it, but she knew she had to give it a chance. Joy slowly curled up in bed. She got about five minutes in bed before she was woken up by the sound of buzzing in the console room. Riley's awake, and she knew exactly who caused it.

Joy sighed gently and yawned before heading down to the console room. "Anxiety?"

The orange emotion squeaked and took her hands away from the console. "Oh! Hey Joy!" She went back to it, the soft sounds of clicking filling up the room as Anxiety replayed all of the events of the loss in Riley's mind. Her imagination station running wild with every bad scenario that could potentially come from this moment.

"We lost the game, our friends are so mad at us for that!"

"What if we're not actually good at Hockey and the coach made a mistake?"

"We're gonna be alone forever!"

"We're never gonna win!"

"This is a terrible stamp on our unbeatable record!"

"We need to do better we need-" Her spiraling was interrupted by her own squeak and an unfamiliar sensation on her ribs. She whipped her head around to look at Joy.

Joy stood their smirking before poking her ribs again once more. Anxiety jumped this time with another squeak.

"Jumpy are we?~"

Anxiety blinked "Jumpy?! Me?! No! Not me!"

Joy smirked more. "Hands off the console, right now"

The orangette shook her head no slowly as she gripped the controls, her chest falling up and down slowly as she took deep breaths.

"Listen...I know you've been wanting to be in control all day, but Riley needs to sleep, and these scenarios are not going to happen, what's going on right now that we can control?" She smiled as Anxiety blinked.

"I- listen I understand, but! Today's really tough! I need to take control of the console! There's too much! We're-" Anxiety went on another rant. Joy knew it was going to be a harder day than normal, the loss didn't help, but Joy learned over time to just be patient with Anxiety. It may not be her strong suit, but she's trying. Everything was just going so good though!

"Anxiety"

The only response she got was more ranting about the what if's and things that most likely won't happen. 'Okay, that's it,' Joy thought to herself before wiggling her fingers gently against Anxiety's sides as she gripped the console.

"EE!- Wha-haha what? Wahahait! Haha!" She let out a few panicked giggles, snapping out of her spiral she let go of the console, trying to make sense of it all.

Joy giggled gently under her breath "What's the matter? Never been tickled before?" She kept going with her sides.

"Nohohot that I remehember! JOy! Haha! Stop ihIhit!" Her giggles were more light now but fluctuated in pitch based on where Joy's tickly fingers went as they trailed up and down the length of her sides.

Joy giggled again along with her. "That's right! I keep forgetting you guys are still technically new emotions!" She continued moving to her stomach. "Tickle Tickle Tickle~"

Anxiety's eyes widened as she fell back onto her chair with a loud squeal. Joy's face pulled itself into a smirk as she followed Anxiety to her chair, standing beside it, moving her fingers back onto her stomach. "I found it~" she teased as they wiggled against her tickle spot.

"JOHOHOY! WAHAHAIT!"

Joy smiled "Wait for what? You're losing me here anxiety! I can't understand you with all that laughter going on!"

"IHIHIT FEHEHEELS SO MUCH WOHORSE THAN THE OHOHOTHER SPOT!"

Joy giggled and nodded "Because it's more ticklish than your sides are" she continued "TickleTickleTickleTickle~"

Anxiety curled up into a ball to try and get away from the feeling, but that only made it worse. If she was being honest though, she didn't hate this?

"JOHOHOHOY!"

"That's my name? You need something giggles?"

"THATS NOHOT MY NAHAHAME AND YOU! EEE! KNOHOHOW IT! HAHAHA!" Anxiety huffed out through her laughter trying to sound tough.

"You're right! Squeaks suits you better!"

"NOHOHOHO!"

"Yessss~"

The two went back and forth for what felt like hours, at least in anxiety's mind it felt that long.

"PLEHEHEASE! I CAHAHAN'T!"

Not wanting to overwhelm her further, Joy gently retracted her hands away before rubbing the ghost tickles away.

"You okay Anxiety?" She asked hesitantly

Anxiety nodded and smiled, wipping a gentle tear from her eye. "I honestly didn't hate that...it pulled me out of my head...and now I'm sleepy"

Joy smiled and nodded "Well Riley is asleep, and so is everyone else, it's about time you get some rest too."

Anxiety exhaled and nodded. "Yeah...I'm sorry for keeping you up Joy, and waking you up earlier..."

Joy smiled "It's all good, and hey it was a learning experience!"

Anxiety blinked "how so?"

Joy smirked. "We found a new way to handle your bad days~" she wiggled her fingers teasingly at her, causing another squeak to come out of the other emotion in the room.

Anxiety sighed and waved her off "I'll see you in the morning Joy!"

The bluette smiled and nodded "Goodnight, Squeaks"

"Ughh!"

_________________________________________

I honestly don't know how to feel about this one! But hey! It got me to write again! :]

I hope you all enjoyed it! This won't be a regular franchise I write for, but I really wanted to do it. It was such a great movie!

[xochimillilili]

Shhh shh be a good boy love. Be a good boy and keep those pretty legs spread for me... that's it, doesn't that feel nice baby? You like dad's fingers stretching open your pretty little cunt? Fuck, you clench around me so nicely when I slap you puppy~ Aaa shh you've got to stay quiet for me honey, can't have someone catching us now can we baby? What would they think seeing such a sweet boy like you getting ruined by their dad while grocery shopping, mmh?

That's my boy~ Such a good boy taking my fingers into his messy cunt... aww don't get whiny now puppy, you'll get my cock in you soon enough. You've made me so proud, and you're being so good for me, of course I'll fuck you until you're dripping and your pretty tummy has a litter of pups in it. Aww you really want it, don't you kiddo?

So proud of you puppy, you take me so well. Keep at it and I might send you back out with a thick plug in you, have you nice and full, stretched out and ready for me later on back home. Bet your mom would love seeing the treat you brought back in you~

[jake-is-screaming-in-tune]

Luffy: If you don’t like your surname, you should take Zoro’s. It would suit you.

Ussop: Yeah.

Sanji: *sputtering* That’s not how it works.

Nami: Roronoa Sanji sounds good.

Zoro: It does sound good. You should keep it.

[inthehouseoffinwe]

Y’know when you’re tired and come across the wrong post at the wrong time and just. Pure rage. For no reason whatsoever.

I’m feeling rather bitter at Elwing rn (it was a very well written ficlet and I admire the writer, I’m just tired and unwell 😂) so you get a little fic of me getting that out. Content warning done.

Here we go!

Elrond and Elros can’t stand most depictions of their mother.

White feathered wings, plain white gown billowing in the sea breeze around her slight figure, two dark shapes reaching taloned hands for the brilliant gem around her neck. Desperate expression on a too round face with wide eyes looking towards her sons. It makes them sick.

Because Elwing wasn’t soft and innocent. Elwing wasn’t like that at all.

Sharp, angular features. Grey slivers for eyes more often clouded than not. White? Yes she wore white. But it was the white of a desert sun, the white of cold starlight, merciless and unfeeling as elves were dragged to the darkness.

And she’d loved her sons, yes, but it was the love of an ideal. Elwing was young and far from ready for the burdens of motherhood alongside ruling a city in her husband’s ever growing absences. And the gem-

Well. The less said about the silmaril, the better.

The Sindar more than others remain desperate for a symbol of innocence, a sign of their claim to the stolen jewel over the sons of it’s creator. So they present their winged princess bathed in holy light whilst the sons of Fëanor cower from it’s brilliant glow.

But Elrond and Elros remember how the stone sang when Maedhros and Maglor arrived, just as they remember their mother’s fury at its song.

You see, Elwing loved her sons. But she didn’t jump to save them.

Elrond and Elros saw the beginnings of regret, but they also remember her steadfast determination to keep what was never hers, cold starlight and unyielding sun meshing to cruel pride as she fell. It wasn’t holy light but white hot fire that clashed with the silmaril to send her screaming as the stone rejected her grasp, burning brighter than ever as she flew to her husband.

Elrond’s arrival to Valinor and the white scars radiating from Elwing’s hand to her chest confirm what he knew all along.

It wasn’t innocence that crowned her the day Sirion fell.

Because years before Maedhros and Maglor had fallen victim to the Silmaril’s hallowing, Elwing the White had paid the price for her false claim. And no matter how they tried to hide it, the consequences of that pride marked her to this day.

[theotherwoman-emily]

🫀Smut Dialogue Prompts-Mens POV🫀

1. “You feel so good around my cock.”

2. “You’re so fucking wet.”

3. “So fucking tight.”

4. “So fucking perfect.”

5. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

5. “It feels so fucking good.”

6. “Let me cum.”

7. “Make me cum for you.”

8. “Please let me cum.”

9. “Fuck baby. I’m so close.”

10. “Please. Please.”

11. “Fuck. Fuck.”

12. “Just like that baby. Move. Just. like…”

13. “Please. Fuck. Yes. Make me cum. Make me cum deep inside you.”

14. “Your turn.”

15. “I want to make you cum baby.”

16. “Your cunt is such a perfect fit for my cock.”

17. “Cum for me. Cum on my cock.”

18. “I love it when you whimper my name.”

19. “Oh, you like that?”

20. “I love watching you take in every inch of my cock into that perfect body.”

21. “I love the sight of you on your knees for me.”

22. “That’s it baby, take my length all the down that deep throat.”

23. “Fuck. You’re unmanning me.”

24. “Fuck. Deeper baby.”

25. “Keep going baby. Cum all over me.”

26. “That’s it baby.”

27. “Use your voice.”

28. “Use your words.”

29. “Good girl.”

31. “You’re such a whore for me.”

32. “You’re soaked baby.”

33. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll always feel me inside you no matter where you go, or what you do, you’ll feel me.”

34. “I’ll fuck you anywhere, and everywhere. In front of anyone, and everyone.”

35. “Everyone will know who you belong to baby.”

36. “Get on your knees and beg for it baby.”

37. “Beg for me pretty baby.”

38. “Don’t tease me baby.”

39. “Don’t fucking stop.”

40. “Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

41. “Desperate little thing aren’t you baby?”

42. “How does that big cock make that tight pussy stretching those walls?”

43. “Take it baby.”

44. “I can feel you stretching to take my cock baby.”

45. “You take it so good baby.”

[kirishwima]

Random Boyfriend Texts w. Gojo

(Pt.2 coming soon because the boy's a MEME. A meme i tell u)

[millerstolemyheart]

Mornings Like These | Drabble

Summary: Joel wakes you up for your morning shift at the stables.

WC: 1,253

Pairing: Joel Miller x M!Reader

Warnings: Smut, brief mention of daddy kink, no proofread

Notes: I dunno I just really needed to get this out of my head guyssss

Mornings with Joel are anything but restful.

Within seconds of stirring, his lips are typically dancing along the shell of your ear, whispering sweet nothings and the occasional breathy swear word while his morning wood swells against the soft curve of your ass. Rough, callused hands caress and grope you awake with a tenderness that surprised you the first time it happened.

“Baby boy… sweetheart… darlin’...”

Each pet name falls as sweet as honey from his lips.

“Sunshine… my love… angel…”

Joel’s list of pet names for you is vast, as he likes to keep a repertoire. It gives him lots of options, depending on what mood he’s in.

“Sugar…”

That’s the one that finally stirs you awake today.

When your eyes finally flutter open, you spot Joel peering down at you with a sleepy expression. Those deep brown eyes of his look tired, but they crinkle at the edge when your gazes meet. His graying hair is tousled from sleep, and it makes you think of that time you towel-dried your cat after a particularly difficult bath. A smile tugs at the corner of your lip, and you bring your hand up to tangle in the soft curls that kiss the nape of his neck.

“G’morning…” You whisper, voice raspy from sleep.

Joel silently presses a kiss to your forehead, and you close your eyes to enjoy the familiar scratch of his whiskered jaw.. Tilting your head up, you capture his lips in a quick kiss. The movement doesn’t faze Joel. He simply slips his hands up to cradle your head in his hands as if it’s second nature.

“Mornin’, sweet boy…” Joel finally rumbles against your lips. He pulls back long enough to study your face. “Sorry to wake you so early. You did say six o’ clock, right?”

Oh, right. Your shift at the stables. No wonder you weren’t feeling his arousal pressing against you.

“Yeah,” You yawn and reach to give his scruffy cheek a reassuring scratch. “Gotta get home and change before I go. Didn’t bring any clothes with me last night.”

In your haste to see Joel after he returned from a late patrol, you’d forgotten to pack any clothes. In your defense, he was wearing that damn green flannel of his that drove you crazy, so you weren’t really thinking of much other than dragging him from the front gate of Jackson back to his own home in record time. The late evening hours turned into a sweaty, sticky blur that didn’t end until Joel had coaxed at least three orgasms out of your spent body.

“Christ, darlin’... just look at you… practically droolin’ for it, ain’t ya?”

“C’mon, baby boy… know you can do it… gimme another. I want it.”

“I know, baby, I know… just one more… do it for me… be a good boy…”

Your cock gave one final weak twitch before your mouth parted in a silent scream, your entire body jolting once, twice, three times before finally giving out and collapsing into the sheets. Joel’s satisfied smirk danced behind your eyelids all night long, along with the gentle praises he murmured into your ear as you succumbed to sleep.

“Such a good boy f’me… can’t believe you’re mine, darlin’...”

Joel gives a soft snort and suddenly peels himself away to reach over the side of the bed with a faint grunt, a product of his aging back. He picks up the very same flannel from the floor and tosses it over to you. “There.” Wearing a satisfied expression, he reclines back against the pillows, head propped up on his arm. “Just wear that. Stay here and have some coffee with me instead before you go.” His voice is low and gravelly, eyes flitting down to the shirt and back up to your eyes. It’s less of a suggestion and more of a declaration.

He knows what you’ll say.

The faintest blush colors your cheeks as you catch the shirt. You give him a careful look and slip it on over your bare torso. Immediately his scent floods your nose with a warm, woodsy aroma reminiscent of wet trees, wood shavings, and the natural musk you’ve grown addicted to. The sleeves hang just past the tips of your fingers, and you shoot Joel an amused look.

“You think anyone’ll notice?”

Not that you would mind…

“Fuck, I hope so,” he grumbles, reaching out to adjust the collar for you. “Want everybody knowin’ you’re mine…” His voice carries a distinct possessive tone, already imagining you going around wearing his scent all day long as you work at the stables. It’s enough to make him want to rip it right back off of you and coax more sweet sounds out of you.

You roll the sleeve back up to your elbows, showing off some of your bare arms. "I'll wear it your way then." You shimmy closer, nuzzling into warm crook of his neck. It’s your favorite place in the world. “Thanks, Joel.”

Joel stretches his arm around you, holding you close to his body, your head still resting against his neck. "Good," His voice is a low rumble, and his free hand reaches to stroke the short hair at the nape of your neck. It sends a delightful shiver down your spine, and Joel responds with a soft hmph, continuing his action and studying your body for any more reactions.

“You doin’ anything tonight, darlin’?” Joel asks after a few moments of silence. His eyes study you closely, though once again he’s sure he knows your answer.

He does.

You give a coy smile. “Seems like I am now.”

"That's a relief," Joel remarks with a wry smile, his free hand moving to your waist, his gaze on your face. "Wouldn't want you spendin' your evenings with anyone else."

“Getting possessive, are we?” You tease him. Your voice comes out muffled from where your face is smushed under his jawline.

“I'm not gettin' possessive, I'm marking what's mine," he counters in a grunt, his tone still low and gravelly. There’s a familiar glint in his eye that promises deliverance.

Mine.

A wave of heat flushes through your body, unable to contain your own growing desire for him. "Well in that case..." You lean up, capturing his lips in a kiss.

Joel immediately groans into your mouth, his breath hot against your lips. His warm hands snake their way back around your middle, one slipping up so he can tweak your nipple with the rough pads of his fingers. “Christ, baby boy…” He mutters, nose squashed against your cheekbone. “Just look at ya… wearin’ my dirty shirt… don’t know what you do to me, do ya?”

You can’t stop your body from trembling as he wraps himself back around you. Everything about him radiates power… strength… safety… His warmth shields you from the chilly morning air of the bedroom. It’s as if nothing else could matter at the moment. Just him. Just Joel.

“J-Joel…” You giggle, your nose nuzzling the warm crook of his neck and breathing in his scent straight from the source. “Not gonna have any time for coffee…”

“Screw the damn coffee,” he snarls, already shifting his body to hover over your own. His weight pins you to the mattress, and there’s a knot that keeps growing bigger and bigger in your gut when you feel just how hard he really is. His cock gives a firm twitch against your thigh.

“I got a better way for us to wake up.”

[charlesemersonwinchesteriii]

One fascinating thing about "You Must Unload" is how thematically relevant it is for all the characters on the show, especially Irving himself. The Terror is a story about progressively giving things up and leaving things behind, what you choose to unload and when. (Boats? Curtain rods? Books? Your only clothing, useless in this cold weather? Your only food, poisoned? Your only companions, sick and dying and unable to walk?) Trying in vain to haul things with you that you cannot carry, both metaphorically and literally.

And Irving is at the center of all of it. As discussed in this post, after Crozier declares at Carnivale that they will abandon the ships, Irving stops referencing religion, a turning point for his character. And he is the one call "Forward, men!", the final decision to leave everything they've known behind. You must unload!

He is also the one whose reaction we focus on when Crozier tells them that even the food they're carrying with them is killing them. Which makes sense, of course: Irving is the one we have seen keeping careful inventory of these supplies, trying to make them last as long as possible. Revealed to have been a futile effort the entire time. You must unload!

And then finally, he goes on the hunting trip, making the call first to split off into a smaller party, then to go all alone to meet the Netsilik. At last, he gives up his spyglass, the only prized possession he has left, something stated textually in the book and implied in the show to be important to him personally. And at the same time, he gives up the symbols of his imperialist existence: rank, class, national identity, all of it, because these things have, quite literally, no meaning in this situation. He's left with nothing but his Christian name.

And when he goes back to try to bring the rest of the expedition with him to salvation, that's what kills him. You must unload!

[troythecatfish]

[novlr]

“The story is not in the plot but in the telling.” — Ursula K. Le Guin

[pinetreesdoodles]

Been thinking about a Saiki k au where he does turn evil. He says that his mom really encourages him to be a good person, but what if he didn’t have that positive influence? What if she died. And Saiki didn’t foresee it and wasn’t there to prevent it. What if that’s the thing that finally pushed him off the edge. What if he hated god because of it. What if he usurped Him.

[amogus-real-not-clickbait]

here's some benreys for y'all!!! it's meal time little ones!!!! nobody starves today. i provide

also random gordo he's here too i guess-

[tsuutarr]

Whenever you ask your werewolf boyfriend to fuck you, he eats you out instead. He nips and sucks your clit, his broad tongue licking stripes on your pussy. He makes you cum hard every time, but you're fed up with feeling empty, cunt clenching around nothing.

“I can take you, you know,” you say, coming down from your high. Your pussy clenches pitifully, desperate to be filled. You're charmed but a little annoyed at how fragile your werewolf boyfriend thinks you are.

“I don't want to hurt you,” he repeats, licking your cum off of his face.

“C'mon,” you urge, spreading your legs wide and parting your pussy lips for him. “I want you.”

Your werewolf boyfriend inhales sharply, pupils large black holes. He's usually a master of patience, but your persistence over the months has worn him down enough that he finally gives in, pinning you to the bed, ass up. 

“You little minx,” he says. He rubs the tip of his cock against your entrance, teasing your hole open slowly. “Fine, have it your way.” When the tip finally pops in, you already feel so, so full. Is he really this big?

Slowly, your werewolf boyfriend pushes his thick cock deeper into your wet pussy, grunting as he bullies you open.

You moan out at the fullness, his cock hitting all your sensitive spots as he pushes himself deeper into you. The deeper he goes, the bigger he feels.

“‘S too much!” you moan, cunt twitching as he hits a particularly sensitive ball of nerves. “Too much!”

He grips your ass, kissing your shoulder sweetly. “Baby, I'm not even halfway there.” He pulls out a little, before he stuffs more of his cock into you. “You can be a good girl for me and take it, can't you?”

You can only blubber in response, cunt clenching against his thick cock, causing him to let out a low groan.

“If you're already like this, babe,” he grunts, fingers finding your clit, making you let out a breathy moan, “I can't wait to see how you react to my knot.”

[findafight]

Wait hehe.

Modern au where Eddie has a decent following in social media and is known as both a guy who does ttrpg with a few friends and does cool metal covers of different song genres. He's weird, sure, and will also post two minute video monologues but it's done while camera is mildly unfocused on a worm on the wet pavement, or he'll rant about prog rock and then two minutes later go "I'm sorry my statements on Keith Emmerson were inappropriate and I guess" *pauses and looks off camera* "he totally deserves to be in the rock and roll Hall of Fame" like it's a hostage video and someone made him say it because he looks like he's having a terrible time about it.

Anyways he's an internet funny little man and one day he posts a tiktok or what have you labeled "tfw ur bf is sitting in his platonic soulmate's lap instead of yours" and it's just of Steve sitting sideways across Robin's lap on someone's couch chatting and smiling with her before turning to Eddie and giving a little finger wave.

This is of course met with internet hullabaloo because is that Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley? Famous indie music duo who are also starring in a popular new tv series? Social media weirdos? Beloved and popular and bizarre and memeable? Queer icons RobinandSteve? Was Eddie serious? He was dating thee Steve Harrington?

An hour later Robin tags Eddie in a post that is a video obviously taken from slightly under Steve as the angles are a bit weird, and Eddie can be heard saying "oh my god how could I have forgotten you're, like, really famous how'd I do that Steve! Babe, Stop laughing! It was supposed to be a silly relatable post! You're no better Buckley-hey why are you filming this? My mortification isn't funny!!" While the video is just shaking of Steve curling in on himself and Robin trying to focus on Eddie and you can hear them both cackling over Eddie talking. She captions it "tfw ur QPP's bf forgets you two are famous and that most ppl don't know they're dating. Or didn't, at least"

[kabr0ztrousers]

Bulky masc slasher x chubby fem reader? He was going to kidnap and kill her but he fell in love and wants to keep. Emphasis on breast and nipple play, he can't get enough of hers.

Going for a horror movie vibe? Well, I can definitely do that for you. It might get a bit dark, fair warning, but here's

Kabr0z Writes Episode 30: The Hash-Slinging Slasher

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: dubcon; noncon; kidnap; Slasher movie horror; knife play; titfucking; orgasm denial; Stockholm syndrome;

A/N: Look at me! I figured out how to add a cut in the wall of text! Thanks (different) anon! And here's the obligatory asking for any more requests, it's almost a free commission if you think about it!

########################################

There's a killer on the loose. It's all the news has been talking about for weeks. Young women turning up in the river, parts of them at least. Of course, it's always the usual type. Some psycho grabbing the tall skinny blondes, chopping them up and dumping them to get famous. You blame true crime podcasts.

You're not worried as you walk through the quiet suburbs. You're a far cry from the previous victims. They were all tall, you're 5 foot tall in heels. They were all blonde, your hair is a mousy brown. They were all skinny, you're soft and pudgy.

Someone's walking behind you, steady clomping footfalls. Whoever they are they're built like an outhouse. You shift to one side of the pavement to let them pass as you hear them catching up to you.

A hand grabs your face, smothering you. Something cracks across the back of your head. The lights go out.

You come around to a dripping sound and the smell of damp. You're on the ground, wrists tied to either end of a broken radiator. This is someone's basement, the stairs clinging to the opposite wall of the room told you that, the cracks of light spilling from around the door illuminating your jail. You shift your weight, grimacing as sleeping limbs tingle awake. You're lay on something. Plastic sheets. You start to struggle, straining the ropes around your wrists but only succeeding in sending ringing clangs through the pipes.

Those footsteps again, stamping to the door. The handle rattles and it opens. A hulking figure filling the gap. It pulls the cord of a light switch and the room is bathed in a fluorescent glow. The man starts climbing down the stairs, dressed in a boiler suit and a welding mask, carrying a machete. You look at the plastic under you. It's covered in dark brown stains. This is bad. This is very bad. The man is coming closer. You scream. He pushes the machete under your top, slicing out towards him. Your tits and spill out, resting on your round belly.

The man stops. Transfixed by your body. He reaches his other hand out and cups your right breast, feeling the weight of it and gently squeezing it in his palm. You whimper at the vicious tip of the machete, tickling the skin of your belly as he groped at you. The grasping hand becomes more insistent, groping and squeezing you. You beg him to stop. To let you go. He shoves the edge of the machete to your neck, pushing his visored face to yours as he squeezes and pulls at your tit. You feel the razor edge cutting your skin and you sob.

The blade clatters as he casts it aside. He fumbles with the flies on his boiler suit and pulls out his cock, jerking it furiously as he rubs your tit with his other hand. You can feel the cut drew blood, drops of warm wetness rolling down and pooling at the base of your neck before sliding down your cleavage where he rubbed it over your body, covering you in a sticky layer of red. His other hand is on your tits now, pressing them together and pulling you up to your knees. He pushes his hard cock between your tits and rubs it with them, using your blood as lube while he fucks himself with you.

You can hear the muffled grunts echo through the mask as precum starts leaking from the end of his cock, the clear liquid coating your chest and making slapping noises with every one of his thrusts.

He cries out. One, two, three more thrusts before cum spurts out of his cock, spattering your face and coating your tits. He stays there a moment, his panting breaths muffled as he catches his breath. With one last tweak of your nipple he stands up and walks away. The cum cooling on your body, Running into the folds of your belly and around your tits, mingling with the slow dripping of blood from the nick on your neck. The only sounds in the basement your sobs and the hissing of the pipes.

The next time you wake, he's there. His hands already on your breast, stroking your hardening nipples. You look up at him, meeting his visored gaze as he attaches clamps to your nipples. You wince as they tighten to you. He continues to massage the soft flesh of your tits before yanking the chain up and towards him. You cry out with the sudden pain, lifting yourself awkwardly as you're wrenched upwards. A palm cups your belly, sinking into the soft rolls as he holds you in place for a moment before letting you drop and pulling out his cock again.

This time he doesn't wait around, already hard he goes straight for your tits, pulling them together with the chain in one hand. He keeps your head bowed with the other so his cock presses up against your lips with every stroke, yanking in time to make you cry out and let him in. He goes on brutally titfucking you as your cries of pain turn to whimpers of arousal. The taste of his cock and the pain from your tits is too much. You're humping the air underneath you as he gives you taste after fleeting taste of his precum. His breathing quickens again. You let your mouth hang open. His thrusts get harder and faster, rutting further into your mouth as you stick out your tongue to taste the underside of his cock. He holds your head down on it as jets of hot cum fill your mouth. He didn't have to.

You whine as he leaves, wet and frustrated, trying to push your heel under you to get off but only leaving you more unsatisfied. You slump into a sulk.

He wasn't there when you woke up this time. There's no light from the door either. You thrash around again, shaking the pipes on the wall, but nobody comes.

The ropes are tight, but you feel a sharp edge on the top of the radiator. You start working your bonds against it, the cord fraying satisfyingly as you go. The sounds of your sawing echo through the pipework, but if you can't get his attention when you're trying to, you doubt this will do anything.

Your wrist comes free. You feel around carefully with your toes until you find what you're looking for. The sharp edge of the machete. Gently. Carefully. You pull it towards you. It's within reach now, you feel for the dull edge and negotiate your hand to the grip. Cutting your other hand loose is easy with the wickedly sharp edge. You leave your ruined and bloodstained top here with the blade. You won't need them.

You feel the wetness between your thighs as you stalk barefoot up the stairs and open the basement door with a click. The hallway is dark, but you can hear snoring from one of the rooms. You pad in, blade in hand. The man is slumped on a sofa, masked head lolling back, the snores taking on a reverberating quality through the grilles. He doesn't stir as you approach, or as you pull out his cock and rub it gently to rouse it. You lower yourself onto him and start to work your hips. You lean back, pushing the head of his cock into your g-spot as you ride him harder. A startled grunt tells you he's awake now, but his hands gripping your plump hips are keeping you on him. He's certainly not complaining. He keeps not complaining as you pull a hand to the chain still attached to your nipples and tug at it, inviting him to do the same as you start fingering your clit and bringing yourself to a rolling orgasm.

Now you change tactic. You lean forward, running the sensitive part at the bottom of the tip of his cock on your back walls. The grunting turns to whining as the man gets closer and closer. You lean back again.

"That's how it feels, dick." You spit at him, still annoyed at him for denying you earlier.

But he won't be denied. He stands up, still holding you by the chain on your nipples and one hip and starts lifting you up and down his cock, thrusting into you as he does. You shake as you orgasm again from him using you as a cocksleeve. He pins you against a wall, holding your legs in each hand and jackhammers into you, shaking the thin plasterboard and growling as he does.

He cums. He pins your back to the wall and holds your cunt against him as he pulses into your womb. Then he drops you.

"You've got spunk" his voice is muffled in the mask, but deep and rough "I think I'll keep you, slut, and you can have my brats"

You think you'd like that

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Post Script: I liked that one, no monsters per se so this might fall through the cracks, but it's a damn good prompt. Kudos, Anon!

If you think you have a good prompt, hell, even a bad prompt, let me know and I'll see what I can make of it!

[lost-in-time-marie]

I spend my days in a haze of daydreams about you. I try to restrict my smile to a straight line, so as not to give my thoughts away. My lips don’t listen. I try to gather my imaginings, like wisps of cotton plucked off a branch, stitch them into an orderly cloud of substance and sense. They don’t yield in their running, falling off the edge of the earth and whisking me to space along with them. I say to myself, if I squeeze my eyes shut tight, until the explosion of colors plays behind my lids, in those fireworks I see an infinite amount of days just like these, unfolding endlessly in front of me. They rush by in an instant. Like smoke, I taste them in a breath and they are gone before the exhale. But god, I could live forever in that one second so full it bursts, staring at you and laughing with you and tracing the lines of your skin, watching how our faces fold and crumple and the skin sags and the hand of time wiping across the landscape of our lives. And it looks beautiful, full of light and promise like the first sunrise of a new year, yet unspoiled. And it feels like the seconds before the skydiver leaps out of the plane, the stab of fear, the knees weak with anxiety, and the sweet exaltation of “fuck it all” and leaping forward anyway.

~K.