#like i said. if that was true. i would be a serial killer. because i enjoy violent horror.

[kirkodiletears]

This used to be a part of a post, but I decided to make it into a separate one, because it speaks of crusual things for understanding SVSSS, it's plot and it's characters.

As I found out recently, there's a huge misunderstanding going on in the English-speaking segment, probably dew to an English translation of SVSSS (only a speculation, I myself never had this problem, although I read in several other languages as well, so I can compare) concerning the fact whether or not PIDW was originally planned by Airplane as a yaoi with bingqiu as an OTP. (Spoiler: yes, it was). Some readers are mislead by two quotes, that they take as a contradictory, which in truth, they are NOT.

The first one is from a Chapter "The story begins". It is the last chapter of the novel, after this the extras start. And this particular chapter is a culmination: this is where the truth is reveled. Like in a detective story, where we finally find out, who the killer is. This meant to become a real "bomb", that makes a reader go WOOOW!!! And this is THE KEY for understanding the whole story: the plot and the characters, especially Luo Bing-mei (and Luo Bing-ge). And it speaks about the original INTENTIONS of the Airplane, that he betrayed in order to please the crowd and that came true in the universe of the System. (original scrapped outline(c))

The second quote, from the extras, on the other hand speaks of an EXISTING PIDW, (original outline(c)), that he actually wrote, but never finished, because he died and woke up in the Universe of the System. And it gives us a glimpse into the way he planned to finish it.

The first quote, from the final chapter:

Shen Qingqiu looked him up and down. “You don’t look crushed at all after all this foolish messing around ended up completely changing your own novel.”

Shang Qinghua said, “You can’t say it like that ah. Maybe you think it’s just all foolish messing around that isn’t worth a damn, but for Bing-ge, your foolish messing around is probably the meaning of this entire world.”

... holy s***, Great God Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky was able to say something like that?!

Shen Qingqiu was terrified. “F***. You didn’t turn back into the original character, did you?”

Shang Qinghua said seriously, “Don’t be like that. I’m also a young person with literary ideals. Of course, I have my own reflections and emotions.”

Shen Qingqiu laughed coldly. “What literary ideals? How come all I saw in the original work was shameless fanservice?” Not to mention his hand speed that could produce ten thousand words a day, and the courage to even occasionally explode with twenty thousand. If he didn’t have such equipment, there was no way 《Proud Immortal Demon Way》 would have been able to hold out before it was serialized!

Shang Qinghua spread his hands. “You think that I always wrote shameless content that lacked any integrity from the very start? I’ve also written belles-lettres4 before, but they were all unpopular, so I had no choice but to go down a path that catered to the masses. It must be said that writing novels is a very lonely undertaking. Rather than writing a stallion male protagonist who’ll be stereotypical in the end, it’s more in line with my philosophy for writing to create the current Bing-ge━this kind of weirdo male protagonist whose character is a bit more complicated, has contradictions and conflicts, and has a rough destiny.”

Shen Qingqiu concluded, “So, your philosophy for writing is to write about gay guys?”

Shang Qinghua: “Do you look down upon gay male protagonists? Works of art and artists all like to create gay guys. Belles-lettres favors gays, do you know that?”

He waved his arms wildly and passionately. “Cucumber Bro, if the System hadn’t chosen you, this faithful die-hard reader, perhaps the plot wouldn’t have deviated so thoroughly, thoroughly to the point that it deviated all the way back to my original scrapped outline. Even though the me back in reality━who couldn’t endure the loneliness and was under financial pressure━chose to finish writing 《Proud Immortal Demon Way》 according to other people’s preferences and what they found cool... now, all thanks to you, essentially everything that I wanted to write has already unfolded in front of my eyes. Cucumber Bro!”

He patted Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders with deep sentiment and solemnity. “You... are the chosen one; as for my career, I have no more regrets!”

... why did it sound like the System and this world were both products of Shang Qinghua’s resentment over scrapping that outline and going with what was mainstream?

Shen Qingqiu, who shamefully became this kind of “chosen one”: “Who’s your faithful die-hard reader?”

Shang Qinghua waved his hand and one-sidedly declared his victory. “I’m not going to talk to you; you’re an anti-fan.”

Shen Qingqiu was about to say, “I’m only an anti, not a fan!” when he suddenly heard Shang Qinghua starting crooning something like, “Emotions are warm, kindness hard to bear, lips moving together, desires turning the evening to the next morning, never resting from dawn to dusk.” The crucial point was that melody, which sounded extremely familiar to the point that it made Shen Qingqiu’s hands and teeth itch. He pointed at him and said, “Shang Qinghua, what are you singing?”

Shang Qinghua continued to croon. “The warmth of emotions makes gratitude hard to bear. Lips to lips, locked in a kiss. Let this night linger ‘til tomorrow’s dawn. Day after day, night after night; never to end. Will tomorrow be another today? When ‘til Zheng Yang reaches its zenith? As Zheng Yang ascends, the voice of Autumn stirs. A sheathless Xiu Ya, a spurt of cold nectar. Tragic pleas amidst choked sobs, thus in vain; for he rises again5...”

Shen Qingqiu was in disbelief. “F*** you—why don’t you just try and sing another line?”

Shang Qinghua said, “Great Lord Shen, why aren’t you listening to what I’m saying? You must never go around casually f***ing people. Bing-ge will go crazy. I’m telling you, this Resentment of Chunshan is equivalent to Shi Ba Mo6. You two are the legendary national homos, do you understand? I have no problems with you shutting me up, but ultimately it’s useless. You can’t possibly make all the countless people in the world shut up...” (NB, Ch 81)

The second quote, from the extras:

【 Basic completion of Proud Immortal Demon Way’s original outline achieved (slight deviation in romance plotline); objective complete. Retrieving function to return to original world; download complete. Activate Return Home sequence? 】 Basic completion of the original outline? That he agreed with. All the holes that needed to be filled had been filled. But this “slight deviation of romance plot” wasn’t quite right. Bing-ge was now fully gay; how could you say that was a “slight deviation”? Ah, fine, fine, in fact, in his original outline, Bing-ge hadn’t even had a romance plotline; he had been doomed to fade away, alone and unaging forever. If you insisted on adding a romance plotline, all right, that was whatever, so putting aside all the System’s rambling…this meant he could return to his original world?! (Seven Seas, Ch. 26)

Basic completion of the original outline and filling it's plotholes - THIS is what's talked about in this quote! Not the scrapped original outline!

The English translation, which I only read recently, in my opinion is not very clear, in comparison to, for example, Russian translations, and not just the most popular version by Псой и Сысой, for ex: there are more than one, and they all pretty much nailed it. 感情线 used in original (that's what, apparently, caused the doubts for some reason, in spite that the quote itself absolutely clearly speaks of 《Proud Immortal Demon Way》’s original outline, the one big "error of a novel", that needed to be redressed, and not the scrapped original outline that never saw the daylight) itself refers to a "romantic plotline". So the author himself tells you, that his original Bing-ge had none. But how come? Why is that? Bing-ge, as we know, has got a huge harem, he for sure cannot be the case of dying alone without love!.. Or can he? Apparently, this is exactly his fate - no love. And the Airplane, the way he planned the original scrapped outline, knows better than anyone else - there's, well, none. The Protagonist's harem is nothing to do with romance whatsoever (see the quote below from the forum as an example, what the readers of PIDW themselves think of the relationship between Bing-ge and his harem). It all has to do with protagonists coolness and power and getting everything, including all the women, because he is super powerful and he is the center of that universe. It's about power, it's about lust, it's about influence and control, and showing, who the real boss is. But not love or romance. PIDW is not a romantic novel in a slightest: its a third rate pornography and a ode to toxic masculinity, so distasteful and disgusting, that the resentment of it's author with his own creation was powerful enough to create the whole new universe (The System) just to correct it! And this particular quote speaks of Bing-ge not having ANY SIGNIFICANT RELATIONSHIP, LOVE. Псой и Сысой for translating 感情线 in this particular case use much more explicit and profound "заслуживающие упоминания эмоциональные привязанности" ("the emotional connections worth mentioning"), rather than abstract "romantic plotline". Because the only significant person in his life pushed Bing-ge away. (And we know, who that person is, thanks to the System Universe - his shizhun.) Romance has nothing to do with the amount of partners he fucks - they are not of any romantic or emotional significance for Bing-ge. This is how his relationship with the harem is described by the PIDW reader's forum in the novel:

"Airplane really doesn’t know how to write romance plotlines, best if he just doesn’t. I feel like Luo Binghe doesn’t have feelings for any of his wives, he just wants to use them. And I can’t see any of those women with real moving emotion for him. "(NB, Ch. 73)

So - no romance for Bing-ge in PIDW, the Airplane didn't grant him this privilege and happiness. And yes - the ending for the tyrant he's become in PIDW is not happy in a slightest.

So, binqui did not appear out of nowhere, and yes - it has always been there from a beginning, in the core of everything. Implied. This is not only canon: it is the exact essence of it, the base, the foundation, which explaines everything that happens in the novel and even beyond - in PIDW, where the mighty protagonist that has everything, except the only one thing he really needs - the love of his shizun - is doomed to an eternal unhappiness and loneliness.

[vtkuu]

Alex Hirsch on writing Bill's unreliable narrator perspective:

"I sort of leave it to the reader to try to pick through what is a lie what is true, and more interestingly, what is something that Bill says that's a lie literally, but is a truth metaphorically?

I think sociopaths, cult leaders— they're such narcissists that they often tell on themselves, even when they're trying to pull the wool over your eyes, they can't help it. They'll kind of admit to something they've done, because they sort of want the credit, then they'll create plausible deniability and act like it never happened.

You know, Robert Durst, the rich serial killer lunatic […] he got away with three murders, and he would have gone to his grave with those three murders. But they made a documentary and they said, "can we interview you?" And he's like, "of course you can, you need to hear my side of the story!" Because he's so convinced that he's a genius, he can't help himself. They say that murderers often return to the scene of the crime, well, that's a crazy thing to do. But there's this ego involved. So, a character like Bill is going to deny a hundred things while kind of hiding a confession inside those denials. And that seemed interesting to me to explore."

~ Full interview with the Syosset Public Library here.

[nemesyaaa]

buffalo'66 au ! old!serial killer! rafe x young!sugardoll!reader

warnings : daddy issues/kink. slight of rafe having a god complex. smut. sick love/obssession/behavior. age gap. size kink. gunplay. spit. mean!dark!rafe. mentions of kidnapping/murdering. dark content. be careful with the warnings.

author's note : i think a lot about rafe having a god complex. and the way it could fix him to have a girl who cherish him and love him like he's just the only one. as the same i think a lot of rafe being a cult!leader with a sweet lamb. anyways, enjoy !

you knew you weren't allowed to touch his gun, but you couldn't pretend that the forbidden rules didn't excite you either. the proof being that you were still with rafe even though he had kidnapped you. you had found the glock in the drawer, and now you were having fun with it to the point where you hadn't heard your jailer come home. you were too captivated by the handgun to pay attention to that.

“ will you teach me how to shoot ? ” you asked in a soft tone.

“ obviously not. but i can swear to you that if you don't put the gun right in my hand in a second, i will show you how i use it. especially on a little tiny thing like you. now stop playing and give it to me, sugardoll. i already told you to not get on my nerves. ”

“ are you a serial killer or something ? ” you said to him, not aware about his job.

“ no obviously, i'm a babysitter. see ? how well i care about little silly girls ? ” he answered with the most sarcastic tone. “ i think you already know what i am, but you like playing dumb. because you're desperate for my attention. you need me to explain things, to satisfy your need of validation. that's right ? ”

he moved from his place, and placed himself behind you, your small body caged against his bigger size. you could feel all the pressure of his strength on you, and you started to shiver when his breath came near to your ears.

“ since you want to play with daddy's gun so bad, i'm willing to give you what you want. ”

“ no, i don't want to play anymore ! ”

“ oh i'm afraid to tell it's too easy like that, sugar. the game doesn't stop when you decide. the game stops when i’m done playing. got it ? nod your head if you got it.”

you really started to be his doll, accepting to nod whenever he wants, to use you whenever he feels the need, to move whenever he decides. when you nodded your head, giving him a little look, he grabbed the gun.

“ you will kill me ? don't, i can be good ! ”

“ you can ? no, you will. choose your words better, sugardoll. why are you crying right now ? the worse it yet to come actually. now, open that pretty mouth of yours. ”

you refused, shaking your head. you were terrified that he would kill you.

“ i said open it. if i have to repeat it, i swear that i will snap dry this gun further in your cunt, and everytime a sound will come out your mouth, pushing it deeper inside. do you understand me ? now, don't you want to be a baby sugardoll, full of kindness and sweetness ? show me how sweet and pretty you are for me. and listen to me. ”

with tears on your cheeks, you slowly opened your mouth. you could feel rafe’s smile against your neck. you were so submissive, the perfect victim. he had chosen you well the day he saw you. like a true serial killer, he never missed his prey.

“ this is why you call me sugardoll ? ”

“ see ? i'm good enough to give you a nickname. ”

it was sick but you smiled, you felt like you were special in his eyes. maybe rafe had a collection of little dolls but you felt unique.

“ don't kill me. i'm begging you. ”

“ fuck, you don't know how hard you make me when you're desperate like that. but trust me, i will make you see soon how good you make me feel. it will be your reward for being this sweet for me, sugardoll.”

he spread your legs, holding them wide with his strong hand covering your trembling thigh while his other hand brought the front of the gun down onto your skin. passing the coldness of steel across your tummy, while you shivered at the thought of dying. when he got to your underwear. you had heard his smirk.

"oh sure, you don't want to die. you want to be fucked. it's so wet here, i could stick the gun in without even preparing you, it would slide off so easily.” his mocked tone made you yelp.

“ i'm not controlling myself ! ”

“ and you don't need too. let me take care of you. keep your mouth open. i will put my gun in. ”

“ i can't do this ! it seems very dangerous…”

“ then suck it well, sugar. especially, if you don't want me to empty the gun on your gorgeous throat. ” he warned you, while pressing his lips on your neck. it was not a kiss, but you were so soft for this little touch. you wanted to please him, to see him proud of you.

he rushed the pistol between your wet plump lips, and you almost choked on it. “ be careful, doll, daddy's gun it's loaded. ” he said with a smile that made your tears even saltier.

while you had started to do your job, his fingers were lightly pressed on the surface, fiddled with the trigger. he loved seeing your petrified eyes, he loved feeling your blood freeze inside your veins, the way you resembled a frightened and helpless animal. you were defenseless and he had no limits.

you lapped at the cold metal at first, your tongue rolling over the barrel, swirling like a needy pet, and licking every bit of the object. you didn't waste anything, moistening the weapon with your own spit, some trails dripped down your tits. rafe had pushed the gun farther, almost into your throat. you choked, a trail of saliva raining over your jaw.

there was nothing amusing about it, but he found it fun. you sucked like your life depended on it even though let's be honest, it did. you moved back and forth quickly, rushed every movement with a softly sloppy gasp. he loved, no he adored the view of your ruined face and your mouth stuffed by the cold weapon. your great job made his dick painfully hard. you could feel the gun under your tongue, and the way it abused you. you drooled, a batch of saliva engulfing one side of the charger.

“ slow down, sugardoll, you're about to melt. ”

you felt dirty for being turned on by something so humiliating, the way you were pathetic for every single thing he introduced you to. it was as if he knew what you wanted, and how to exploit it. he could destroy you as well as shape you. you were nothing but the doll he wanted to play with. he knew more than anyone how to make you feel good. he knew well how to play with his toys.

you were killing him slowly with the way you were going about it, your pink tongue tickling the barrel, your mouth swallowing the entirety of his gun. every inch moved in and out of your parted lips. you lost count of the number of times you almost choked to the point you could throw up, you did your best.

the cold air of the room hit the soaked fabric of your underwear. it had gotten so wet down there.

you tried to focus on this dangerous game but you saw his bulge growing, his crotch distorting his pants.

“ keep sucking, i'm not done. ”

“ but ..."

he ignored you and took off his pants and boxers, freeing his hard cock. the next minute he was inside you, completely buried to the point where you could feel him all the way to your stomach. you salivated on the handgun, making a rain all over it.

as he filled you up, his thick cock abusing your tight pussy, the position was totally different, you were lying there, still the gun in your mouth, but now he was fucking you. his eyes were on you, and you could feel that motivating him even more to pounded you. your juices pooled on the surface the deeper he went. the slobber gathered around the metal. he rushed away your tears with his thumb.

“ stop whining, sugardoll. you can't cry when daddy takes you so well. ”

you really wanted to listen to him but it was too much for you. you were full of tears and they constantly wanted to come out, even when you felt good. but it was like the more you cried, the more he bullied your pussy, and by that, giving you more reasons to whine.

“ jesus, i'm pretty sure that you really like that gun in your mouth. ” he said with a firm thrust that made you squirm, your eyes wettering as the sentence. “ you like being this pathetic ? don't worry, i got you, i'm not judging you, but don't mind if i take advantage of it ? of course, you don't mind. you love being this sick, you're just a needy freak. ”

he pulled out before putting it back in you, inched himself deeper and deeper, letting you breathless. he was more rough this time, his fat length stretching you wider. his hips slammed your skin, his sweaty balls slapping you in motion. you nodded your head, your loud moans echoed in the empty room. his heavy hand on your tiny throat, pressuring it every time your walls tighten him.

his big other hand squeezing your small waist, as your core wrapped him harder. “ see ? daddy's making you a new home, right now. ”

his breath was heavy and short, the sweat of his body pressed against yours, while you were about to explode, so close to the orgasm. you were crying even more. and he covered your mouth with his large palm. he hitted the right spot again and again, without a break. you reached the second orgasm quickly, and you waited for him to explode at his turn. but he was taking his time on purpose. he obviously liked to abuse this little cunt of yours, wrecking like it was nothing your cervix. he glared at your glistening eyes with a proud face, while hurting your sloppy cunt. “ be patient, sugar. it's a matter of time but daddy will make you melt, and you will make a big mess on his dick to show how grateful you are ? ”

you didn’t answered, even when he released your mouth from his hands, because of the overheating.

“ you better answer because i can go to the next round. ”

“ yes .. yes !! ”

“ you're so naive, sugar. trusting me this easy, it's your own fault if old men like me use you. like did you really think we will not go on another round ? i'm about to make you dumb. not only your brain, your pussy, all of you. after this, you will not be able to think, to talk and even to walk. ”

your tears made him cum, and you let out a noisy and desperate whimper. “ it's sad for you that i'm the only god you can pray for, because i'm going to ignore all your prayers, making you on your knees every time for nothing more than my own good. sweet lamb, i'm such an uncaring god. but you can't hate on me, even a little, such a pretty precious thing you are. ”

“ why ? ” was the only word that came out of your mouth.

in fact, you were a little sad about this, because you wished that he cared a bit, even an hint about you.

“ nobody deserve you like i do. nobody deserve to touch you, or put an eyes on you, no one. you're just mine, and i need you to understand that clearly. do you got it ? do you even understand what i mean ? i will never let someone have you. never. ”

“ i really love you. ”

“ not only you love me, sugardoll. you adore me, you cherish me, you can't breath without me. do you understand ? how trapped i made you.”

“ bu…”

“ quit crying. you wanted this, you begged for. ”

“ i thought you only wanted to kill me ! ”

“if i wanted to kill you, it would already be done. i don't mind having blood in my hands, i'm a killer after all. but yours, i promise, i would never dream of, sugardoll. ”

it was very sick. but his words made you smile.

“ i want to hug you ! ”

“ don't make me regret my words. i still can choke you to death. ”

“ can i ask a question ? ”

“ jesus, if you don't yap more than a thousandth time each day, you're dead or what ? i swear, tell me your question, but choose it carefully because it will be the last. so, use your dumby brain very well. ”

“ i just wanted to know…if it's the first time you do this with one of your victims ? ”

“ why do you want to know ? ”

“ you need to answer ! ”

“ and you need to mind your own business. ”

“ i asked you a question ! it's not fair if you don't answer it ? ”

“ you better not try to raise your voice at me because i can shout, and trust me, the tears i will bring in your face will not be that pretty. ”

“ you're still mean to me…nothing has changed. ”

“ and you're still annoying. yes, nothing has changed.”

and you smiled at him, your sweet eyes melted on his unhichanged look.

“ someday i know you will love me too ! ”

“ bold to have faith, better to work on it, sugardoll. ”

you gave him a sweet look, even if he was grumpy, you wanted him.

[nightmareweaverz]

What Is Love? (Mr. Gap x GN!Reader)

(Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me)

This contains spoilers!!

CW: brief mention of murder, one single swear word, romantic gestures but it's all SFW, reader is a serial killer Word count: 1923

Hi, hello, I ended up writing fanfiction for this game after all. And it's for Mr. Gap because I love this dumb void creature obsessed with body parts. He's a love interest in the game, don't boo me, I'm right. Might continue this one later, maybe? Not sure if it's a one shot or not yet.

How long has it been since you’d decided to return to the other world indefinitely? You’re not entirely sure. Time is hard to measure here. You sleep when you are tired and you eat when you’re hungry. You’re at least certain you’ve slept many times since then. Sometimes you wonder whether decades go by as you remain here, among ghosts and monsters. 

If you’re entirely honest, it isn’t so bad. You can massacre whoever you please and nobody bats an eye. There’s no need to hide bodies, build alibis, get rid of evidence. 

Yet, at the same time, with every new set of hallways and decaying rooms, you begin to sympathize more with the likes of Mr. Stitch and Mr. Machete. You’d once wondered why someone would give away clothes for free or play hairdresser in this world. Now you find yourself yearning for something similar, a purpose or at least a way to pass the time. 

At least you aren’t alone. Mr. Gap has become an expected presence in every crevice, hole and gash you gaze into. He’s still a mischievous little jerk, of course, but there is comfort in knowing someone nonthreatening is at your side at all times. And he keeps your boredom at bay sometimes. 

One day (or perhaps night), you’re walking through the maze of hallways and rooms of the Other World, searching for a way to entertain yourself. You hope to encounter a new face. Or perhaps an old one. Part of you still hopes you’ll run into Mr. Crawling or Mr. Chopped again, as unlikely as it may be. 

Room, after room, after room, you walk. Until, eventually, your legs grow tired and, with a long sigh, you lean against a wall. Mr. Gap’s face appears in a nearby hole. 

“What wrong?” he inquires. 

“Bored,” you confess. 

“Me fun. Give your heart.” 

You scoff. “You not fun.” 

He shoots you a disgruntled look of disbelief, which begrudgingly makes you snicker. He thinks too highly of himself if he believes constant demands for body parts is considered entertainment. Messing with him on the other hand… 

You set your crowbar aside, then curl your palms in the shape of a heart, which you then present to Mr. Gap. 

“What you do?” 

“This is heart.” 

“That is hand.” 

“No, this is heart. Above world heart.” You grin mischievously. 

He looks entirely unimpressed and partially confused. “That not heart.” 

“This heart humans show when lots of like someone.” 

He goes quiet for a bit, still staring at your hands like they’re an unsolvable riddle. Then he stares at your face, even more confused. “You lots of like me?” 

Oh. You hadn’t considered that’s how the explanation would come across. You were only trying to poke fun at him. How do you talk your way out of this one? Would he get mad if you said no? Would it even be true to say no? You don’t think you’re ready for that type of introspection. 

“That…” you search for the right words in the very limited vocabulary of the Other World’s language. “Not… know…” you finally force out. 

“Why this heart show?” 

Now it’s your turn to grow frustrated with him. “Why you want heart?” 

He’s already given you an answer to that question in the past. Because it’s fun. Something you failed to comprehend. Perhaps the same way he failed to comprehend your idea of “like.” So before he can answer, you grab your crowbar and march off. 

Unfortunately, the question pops into your mind again as you continue to wander aimlessly. Can someone like you fall in love? 

You've taken so many lives, simply because it was fun or convenient or you got sick of their attitude. You've done the same thing in this world. 

The hunched over figure of Mr. Crawling pops into your mind. Then, the smiling face of Mr. Chopped. And, eventually, Mr. Gap's annoying grin. Those are people you wouldn't kill. They are people you want to keep around. Perhaps people you would kill for instead, if needed. But does this attachment go deep enough to be called love? 

Perhaps you aren't sure of what that feeling is anymore than Mr. Gap and it’s all feigned knowledge. 

Your feet are hurting by the time you finally find a proper place to rest. You've lost track of time. 

Though your body is tired, your mind remains restless as you set aside your crowbar and sit on the bed. This is a far cry from the entertaining activity you’d hoped to find. 

“What wrong?” a familiar voice inquires beneath the sheets. You lift them up to reveal Mr. Gap’ face once again. 

How do you even explain your issue to him? 

“Feeling not know.” 

He goes quiet for a bit. “Teach me lots of like?” 

Is he saying he wants you to explain love to him? How do you even begin to do that? Perhaps you can narrow it down to romantic love at least. 

“When lots of like, person special. Say nice words. Want to protect. Want to follow. Do special touch. Help person when need.” 

The limited vocabulary makes it especially hard to put it into words. You aren't sure how well you'd explain it to another human either. 

As expected, Mr. Gap looks puzzled. “Nice words? Special touch?” 

He's focusing on the more romantic aspects, it seems. You prop your head against your hand, thinking. “Nice words not have here language. My language have nice words.” 

“I see…” he murmurs. “Show special touch?” 

You pout at him. “Why?” 

“Want to know.” 

So he's just curious. Or, knowing him, he heard the word “special” and decided he wanted it to be about him. He does have a bit of a big ego, always taking pride in startling you, often shoving pages of articles about him in your face. You cross your arms and turn your back to him. 

“What wrong?” 

“You bad. Me need help, you want heart. Me need help, you want hand, you want head, you want leg. Me not show special touch.” 

“Me nice,” he says, sounding offended. You don't have to turn around to know he's giving you that astonished look he makes whenever you criticize or baffle him. 

You laugh mockingly. “Not. Goodnight.” And with that, you shove down the sheet, blocking him from view. He's always poking fun at you, it's about time he got a taste of his own medicine. 

. . . 

When you wake up, Mr. Gap is nowhere in sight. It isn't entirely unusual. He has moments when he's off doing his own thing. Deciding to do the same, you take off in search of something interesting to occupy yourself with. Preferably not another mind boggling question. 

Hours pass, probably. Residents appear every once in a while, some friendly, some hostile. None of them scare you anymore. You only interact with them to pass the time. Until you eventually come to a stop in a room full of debris and objects from the human world. There, you sit down and begin to search for anything worthwhile. Maybe something to read. 

To your luck, you gather several magazines and books. Your arms are full by the time you feel a tremor shake the room. Another earthquake. You waste no time getting out of there with your new haul. 

But as you stop to set everything down, you realize you've left your crowbar behind, in the now collapsed room. A few curses rush out under your breath. 

“Hello.” 

You turn around to find Mr. Gap peeking out of a hole in the wall. “Want attack tool?” He waves the tip of your lost crowbar around. “Take, take.” 

“Take? You not want heart?” 

“Not want!” 

Huh. Maybe he took your criticism yesterday to heart. You grab the crowbar and mutter a “Thank you.” 

That wide, unnerving smile of his spreads over his face before he fades off into the darkness. What is he planning now? 

For the next few days, he continues to go out of his way to bring you things, take you places and fulfill any requests you might have without demanding any body parts in exchange. Relying on him almost becomes a habit. However, you have a slight suspicion he's not doing this out of the goodness of his heart or because he felt particularly sad about your accusations. These nice gestures must be leading to something. 

And surely enough, at some point, during one of your breaks from wandering, he appears before you, looking particularly delighted. 

“Me nice. Show special touch.” 

How typical. You narrow your eyes at him. 

“No?” he asks, the smile fading from his face. 

Part of you wants to lecture him on doing all that to prove a point. The other part suspects it won’t do much. 

“Okay okay. Me show,” you give in. Maybe this will make him act nicer overall. You can't deny the fact that he's helped you a lot lately. 

“Thank you.” 

You position yourself directly in front of the hole in the wall and then point at him. “Hand.” 

He blinks. “Not give my hand.” 

Of course he thinks you want his severed hand. 

“Me touch your hand,” you clarify. At that, he finally understands and sticks one of his hands out. 

His palm feels cold and damp to the touch when you press yours against it, but his skin is oddly soft. You interlock your fingers. His own remain limp in the air for a moment. Then, upon observing what you're doing, his fingers press down against the back of your palm, mimicking yours. It's not an unpleasant feeling. 

Are his nails naturally black or does he paint them, you wonder. The image of Mr. Gap painting his nails makes you snicker internally. 

“This one touch,” you explain. “Human person do this with special person.” 

He stares at your interlocked hands, intrigued. “You know more?” 

Naturally, you do, but you hesitate as the next gesture comes to mind. Your own curiosity is beginning to kick in, ushering you to try it. Will it awaken anything in you? 

Driven by that curiosity you say: “Yes.” Then, reach into the opening in the wall with your free hand. 

His cheek is just as cold and damp as his hand, perhaps the effect of dwelling inside crevices and hollows all the time. Gently, you tug him towards you and he follows, gaze flickering between your hand and your face. You lean closer as well. 

His lips are dry against yours. And you feel no breath from him. Whether it's because he's holding it in or he never breathes to begin with, you aren't sure. You don't linger for long, but something odd stirs your insides for the brief moment you spend kissing him. 

How suitable, for someone like you to be exploring love with a sinister void dweller who knows even less about it than you do. Oddly enough, you don't dislike it. 

“This lots, lots special,” you explain after you've pulled away and let go of his hand. 

He uses his now freed hand to touch his lips. A smug look is slowly overtaking his face. This arrogant little jerk. 

“Me special,” he concludes. 

“Not,” you argue. “You ask. Me show.” 

You have a bit of a staring contest between your glare and his smug grin. 

“Me want your heart,” he says finally, still with that smug look. 

“Oh, fuck you!” 

It's going to take a long time if Mr. Gap is to become anything akin to a lover.

[ozzgin]

A nice character with a yandere split persona. The Yandere persona was born out of the abandonment of the character by a loved one, maybe mom. Did he kill her just so she could stay? Maybe. Only the Yandere persona knows, the character is oblivious, he just knows his mom left him. But he oddly feels ok about it as though the situation has been reconciled... which is weird to him.

Now he meets and falls in love with yn. She must not leave. It's f around and find out

Btw I love you ❤️❤️❤️ The Yokai series is my fave

Oooh, I’ve been thinking of a context for your idea and I somehow got stuck on a serial killer who is unaware of it most of the time. Since you mentioned abandonment and obsession, my mind wandered to some of the typical habits, such as collecting trophies. I’ve also been wanting to try my hand at writing a serial killer, so hopefully it turns out to your liking. (Sending back the love, always a pleasure to see your comments ❤)

Although let me include a little disclaimer, because I am aware many things in the sphere of true crime are problematic: this in no way glorifies or romanticizes serial killers. Just a reminder that this is a work of fiction and all behaviors displayed are for the sake of an interesting story, not to be admired in real life.

Yandere! Serial Killer x Reader

You're temporarily staying with a kind, quiet man renting out a room in the house he inherited. It's just the two of you, and a locked bedroom he claims to be vacant. Yet as night falls, you hear the whispered arguing of a voice you don't recognize. Is anyone else there?

[Part 2] | [More original works]

Content/TW: female reader, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, horror

You must break the pattern today, or the loop with repeat tomorrow

He stares at the locked drawer of the bureau. The clock ticking in the background fades into an irritating buzz, drumming against his ears at irregular intervals like a swarm of insects. Once again, he cannot remember where the key is. Yet he does not feel compelled to search for it. It cannot be anything of significance, he tells himself. Forgotten knick-knacks, perhaps. Despite the apparent lack of curiosity, he is drawn here every morning. He wakes up, carefully folds the sheets, and goes to sit in the office. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Until, at last, the noon hour strikes, and the hallways are flooded with ghastly chimes.

Lately, however, other sounds have taken over the usual silence that envelops the house. The main door rattles faintly before opening with a creak.

“They were out of our bread rolls. I got a baguette instead.”

It’s you.

He stands up, as if startled from deep slumber, and hurries downstairs to greet you. He takes the grocery bags from your hands, flashing a smile of gratitude. Somehow, the idea of another person living here is still foreign to him. He’s gotten so used to the solitude, the quietness of the house. Time stands still when there’s no one else to remind you of it.

You glance up at the tall man, noticing his slight frown.

“Another brain fog?” You ask, worried.

“Don’t mind me. It’s a morning routine at this point”, he jokes. “More importantly, what would you like for breakfast?”

He always cooks for both of you. Initially, you were rather hesitant to go for his offer. You’d been looking for temporary accommodation and stumbled upon his advertisement. A cozy, vintage house the man had inherited from his lamentably departed mother, with one too many spare rooms. He had no need for all the space, he said in his description. You paid him a visit and were taken aback by his appearance. A massive, muscular frame that did not fit the rest of his mannerisms and features. He was soft-spoken, polite, and terribly shy. His eyes reflected the kind of gloom to be expected from anyone in his situation.

A sweet, gentle soul looking for company. On top of that, if you are to be technical, he’s a housemate difficult to compete against. Well-kept, mannered, organized, and thoughtful. He keeps to himself. You’d learned, soon after moving in, that he suffers from the occasional brain fog and memory loss. He goes for walks at odd hours to clear his mind. Enjoys reading in his office, although you’ve caught him just staring into space many times. Terribly inconvenient for the poor lad, you imagine.

The house itself is also not a bad deal by any means. Old fashioned, littered with trinkets and paintings. “My mother liked to collect many things”, he’d told you. It certainly has personality, to put it mildly. Some belongings are more bizarre than others: portraits of faceless people, with features smudged or distorted, doll heads in pompous, feathered collars hanging in clusters across the musty walls. Peculiar, but manageable.

Only at night does it become unsettling.

“Going for a walk?”

You’re curled in one of the armchairs, flipping through a magazine you found. It’s been hours since your little breakfast together and now the sun is beginning to set. The man is buttoning up his coat, standing in the doorframe and gazing at you with a smile.

“Yeah. I’m starting to detach a little. Maybe some fresh air will help.”

It’s nice, he thinks, having you here. He didn’t expect much when he ventured to rent out a room. He just wanted to hear the murmur of life again. Ever since his mother has passed…when did it happen, again? Better yet, how did it happen? Christ, he can’t remember. The last memory he has of her is not something to cherish. She was angrily shoving him out of the way, visibly annoyed by his cries and pleading. “Please don’t leave me”, he kept croaking in a pathetic tone, dragging his knees like a beggar. Then it’s all black. Black, like the cover they kept over her body at the morgue, to hide the mutilated remains. Black, like the tie he struggled to knot before her funeral. At that time, the sheets of her bed were still scattered, as if she never left. He could almost see her there, reflected onto the mirror’s surface – rather dirty as a matter of fact, he should wipe it soon – sitting melancholically on the edge of the mattress.

To think he’d be hearing footsteps again. A soothing voice. Even if it’s temporary, your presence in the house has been a blessing. Even if you must leave eventually. His lips purse involuntarily.

You hear the door close, followed by the key twisting inside the lock. You’re alone now.

With haste, you get up and sprint upstairs. You pull out a hairpin from your pocket and discreetly insert it in the cylinder. Today you find out if the spare bedroom truly is as vacant as your housemate claims.

When you first viewed the house, he mentioned that only this room will remain locked. It was his mother’s and he’d rather not look at it, he said. Let it gather dust, for all he cares.

Only at night, you’ve been hearing someone else’s voice. It didn’t happen immediately. Weeks after you’d moved in, you woke up thirsty and tiptoed on your way to the kitchen for a glass of water. On your return, you were surprised to see dim light coming from underneath the door of the forbidden bedroom. Visitors of your housemate? You hurried back into your bed, not wanting to intrude. But the following night you jolted up from the same mumbled voice. Strange that he’d invite someone over this late - twice in a row! - without saying a word to you. Even more, they were arguing like this. Curiosity got the better of you, so you snuck out and placed your cupped ear against the wall.

“No, no, no, no. I’m telling you, it’s different. She’s different from the others.” A deep, ragged voice retorted angrily.

Suddenly, there was a loud thud, a fist smashing against something, then glass shattering over exasperated, shouted curses. You ran back to your room, baffled. Who on Earth was there? You could feel your heart throbbing inside your chest.

Morning couldn’t come quick enough. You marched over to your housemate, demanding to know who this stranger was. He stared at you, wide eyed and incredulous. “There’s no one else here, dear. Just you and me.” Nonsense. You knew what you heard. You’d been wide awake! He gently placed the back of his hand against your forehead. “Could it be that you’re sick? Weather has been dreadful lately.” You scanned his face with hitched breath. Was he mocking you? Yet his features betrayed no such intent. The man seemed genuinely worried; face twisted in a caring frown.

Then what? A ghost? An intruder that fancied having a chat in a dead woman’s bedroom?

You fiddle with the pin until you hear the click. Finally. Surely whoever has been frequenting the place must’ve left some clues behind. You carefully open the door and peek inside. A broken mirror and some furniture covered in webs. There’s a lingering rusty smell that tickles your nostrils, and soon enough you find the source. Next to the old bed lays a cloth splattered red. On top of it, a leather folder from which scalpels and other surgical tools fell out haphazardly. Blood? Your mouth curls in disgust. You crouch to the floor to inspect the odd items and notice a jar glistening from underneath the bed. You pull it towards you and give it a rattle. Nothing heavy. You lift the jar into the light for a better look and gasp.

Fingernails.

“Oh, I forgot to put those away.”

It’s the same deep voice you’ve been hearing at night. Your stomach drops and you turn, slowly, towards the entrance. Horror is swiftly replaced by confusion once you realize it’s none other than your housemate.

“Y-you’re back from your walk?” You blurt out.

“Walk?” He inquires. “Ah, that’s what he told you.” He steps towards you and lowers himself to your level with a grin.

“Have you come to say hello?” He points towards the tall, shattered mirror. “This is (Y/N), mother. See, I told you she’s stunning. You didn’t believe me.”

He ruffles your hair with a boldness completely unfamiliar.

Nausea overwhelms you and your ears ring in panic. Whatever is happening right now is beyond your understanding.

“I’d like to go to my room now.”

“I recognize that speech all too well. You want to run away.”

Within seconds, he grabs one of the scalpels and points it towards your throat, poking your skin with its cold tip.

“Now, don’t embarrass me in front of her like that. Do you know how hard it is to convince this bitch of anything? I told her you’re not like them, (Y/N). Don’t prove me wrong.”

“Them?” You whisper, lungs devoid of air.

“Come, let’s put this with the others first.” He pockets the scalpel and lifts you up by the hand, tenderly kissing your fingers in the process. “Then we can talk.”

You follow him into the office, and he unlocks one of the desk drawers. Against your better judgment, you stretch over his shoulder and glance inside. ID cards of various women, jewelry, lipsticks. Teeth. Fingernails.

You want to cry.

He nonchalantly dumps the contents of the jar into the drawer and slams it back shut, then throws himself in the chair and pats his thigh, eyeing you. With a sob, you clumsily climb onto his lap.

“Back to our matters. What were you planning on doing?”

“I just wanted to lay in bed.”

He takes out the scalpel and draws a line across your cheek. It stings.

“Don’t lie, (Y/N). You have nothing to gain from being naughty with me.” He coos, placing a kiss over the fresh wound.

“I wanted to run away.” You confess, petrified.

“Good. Do you now understand what happens if you try to run away?”

You briefly look at the drawer and nod.

“I knew you would. You’re so smart.” He strokes your hair fondly. “Not an easy decision to make, mind you. I love you more than anything in this world. Who’d enjoy killing their one and only?”

The man ponders his next words with a hum.

“Don’t count on getting away while he’s awake, either.” He taps his temple and chuckles. “He has no idea and won’t stop you, but I can easily find you again.”

The eggs sizzle in the pan as you stare at your plate, background sounds melting into shapeless static. After a couple more minutes, the man turns off the stove and places the food on the table with a cheerful whistle.

“Eat up!” He encourages you.

You hold onto your fork with faintly trembling hands.

“This might be the last breakfast I cook for you, after all. You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?” His last sentence trails off and he smiles, dejected.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could…stay here instead.”

He gazes at you in disbelief.

“Truly? I-…That’d be fantastic.” He laughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his head, a deep red blush spreading over his cheeks. “Do excuse my rudeness. To be honest with you, I’ve grown quite fond of our arrangement. I really do like having you here.”

You return the smile without responding.

“Most exciting news. I’ll get the documents from the office after we eat, so we can draft a new lease.”

“That’d be lovely”, you answer curtly.

“Say, have you by any chance stumbled upon a small key around the house? I wanted to finally unlock the drawer upstairs, but I can’t remember where I could’ve left it.”

The knot in your stomach tightens.

“Not at all.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m sure it’s nothing important, anyways. Old memorabilia, most likely.”

[willieverseetheland]

like you mean it (pt. 1)

Dexter Morgan x fem!reader

Summary: You haven't felt very appreciated by your (serial killer) boyfriend recently, so he shows you how much he really cares.

WARNINGS: 18+, angst, implied smut, language

Pt. 2

From the moment that you met Dexter, you knew he wasn't like everyone else. He can be a little socially inept at times, as well as insensitive. However, at the same time, he's incredibly loving, charming, and funny. You love him and all his quirks. Compared to the men you’ve been with in the past, he’s a saint. He's respectful, kind, and you actually feel safe with him.

But at the end of the day, he’s still a man.

He has a hard time seeing things from your perspective, which can cause a lot of arguments, that are almost always one-sided. You try not to nag but it's hard feeling like the only one putting in effort. He often forgets the things that you tell him. You figure he doesn't find importance in the same things that you do. Lately you've been feeling a little neglected. Monday you asked him to come over for dinner, but he said he was busy. Wednesday you asked him to go lunch with you on his lunch break, he said he was busy yet again. You had a movie date planned for Friday; he bailed last minute because he was...busy.

You always get excited thinking he’s going to say yes, planning cute outfits, spending time on your makeup and hair, all for him to say no. You end up sitting on your couch in front of the tv, with a pint of ice cream instead.

Finally you convinced him to come over tonight. You would love for it to be a relaxing and romantic night, but you know you need to have a talk with him. You hate having these talks because it can feel like talking to a brick wall at times. You know he means well; he just doesn't see it the same way or doesn't even mean to make these mistakes in the first place. But it is hurting you, and you're tired of feeling like your boyfriend doesn't want you.

Of course, he won't be here until late. He has to "take care of a few things first". You knew blood-spatter analysis was a complicated job, but you didn't think it would require this much overtime...

Even though you're slightly mad at him, you don't want him to starve so you make dinner for the two of you. As you're setting the table you hear your apartment door unlock.

In walks Dexter, with his adorable face and dorky smile. You may be irritated but you can't help but smile at the sight of him.

"I made dinner, would you like a beer?" you ask

"Sure" he says with a soft smile

He comes over to give you a kiss on the forehead. You make a half-ass smile in response. When you don't kiss him back or even look at him, he can tell something is wrong.

"What did I do?" he frowns

You immediately sigh

"Dexter, I...I just feel like you don't care. About me, about us."

"What? That's not true at all, why do you think that?" He exclaims

"You've been so distant recently. Gone all the time, always bailing on our dates, always busy, you hardly call or text! I just wish you would put in a little more effort, that's all." You can feel tears begin to form; you didn't realize you were this upset about it.

"Y/n, you know I'm busy with this case, they just really need me right now." He's looking at you, looking through you. You can't read any emotion or remorse on his face. This only makes you want to cry more.

"It feels like I don't mean anything to you! I feel like you don't want me anymore." You can feel your face getting hot and your chest tightening. "Fuck, do not cry right now" you think.

You bring your hands to your face, rubbing your eyes in an attempt to ward off the tears.

"What do you mean? Of course you matter to me; I've just been busy." he has a look of confusion, like he can't understand why you would feel this way. He's here now, isn't that all that matters?

"Well, it just doesn't feel like you mean that."

"Well I do, you're my girlfriend, of course I want you." he sighs

"Then prove it! Show me that you mean it." You look into his eyes, you think you finally see it, regret, remorse, guilt.

He brings his hand up to your cheek, he finally sees how upset you are. You sink into his touch, stepping closer to him.

"How? Change? How do you want me to show you that I want you? That I care?" He's looking into your eyes, brows furrowed.

Even with all the hurt and anger, all you want to do in this moment is kiss him. Feel his body against yours. Not only has it been long since you've had any quality time or even a deep conversation, but you also haven't had sex in weeks. You feel guilty for thinking that in this moment, but you just want to feel close to him, connected.

You place your hand over his

"Stay the night. Be with me... Fuck me, like you mean it. Like you want me, like you care."

SURPRISE BITCHESSSS! I told y'all I was on my writing GRIND. If you want a part 2 lmk! Someone return the favor and write Dex fics for me please and ty <3

[renshengs]

beyond evil (2021) occupies a very interesting space in the larger expanse of crime shows. like, it is a Cop Show. it is undeniably a Cop Show even if the two main characters, who are both cops for very different reasons, are handled with significantly greater awareness and intention than usual.

it is also, impressively, a show that pierces the real ugly rot of 1) police corruption and its overlap with capitalism 2) atrocious real-life lawmaking 3) the poor handling of femicide in stories. i cannot express how abruptly shocked i was to discover that i did not hate the way this show was carrying itself, despite its crime drama genre, narrative about two homoerotic cops, and its murder mystery premise featuring a plot about a serial killer with solely female victims. here is a story that understands its purpose and is so clear-eyed about it that i did in fact tentatively suspend all my wariness about Cop Shows to watch it—and what i got was a scathing response to every serial killer and true crime documentary out there. a narrative that said: enough. enough. look at the way grief rots people from the inside out. look at the way loss ruins lives. do not forget the sufferings of the innocent.

far too many crime dramas possess an incredibly dehumanizing analytical tone to them that goes, “what if these poor women died in brutal gruesome tragic ways? anyway, look at these men and their heroic journey for justice!” it’s why i can’t fucking stand to watch them for the sake of my blood pressure. while beyond evil is not exempt from using such gruesomeness as a part of its horror aspect, the women in this show, particularly the women who were murdered, occupy such a heavy weight over the narrative that it is impossible to reduce them to what they’re usually reduced to: numbers in files, or cold cases. and because the purpose of beyond evil is to examine the ways grief and loss bring about destruction to people’s lives and communities, these women cannot be seen as numbers. they need to be vivid and real; the audience needs to feel their loss as deeply and gnawingly as the townspeople do. as we would in real life.

personally i’m still surprised at myself for liking a Cop Show this much—because the law enforcement sympathy is unavoidable in a cop show—but then i’m also shocked at how immediately this show establishes its awareness of police power. i don’t mean it gives a passing nod, like a brief disclaimer. i mean that you watch until the end and you’re like: oh! the entire fucking show is about police power and its consequences! this entire goddamn show is about cops’ potential for harm and how it destroys lives! the main character only ever became a cop out of desperation because he realized it would protect him from suffering further at the hands of the police. because he realized it was the only way for him to get access to both the information and the legal power needed to take his own steps to solve his sister’s murder. it’s not radical—it’s a cop show. but it is novel. a cop whose relationship with his own occupation is bitterly resigned at best and traumatic at worst.

this is far from an original thought, but truly i think what makes beyond evil worth watching is that it is so incredibly careful with itself. its meta awareness of its own genre heightens it to a tier above other crime dramas—it knows and rejects voyeuristic perspectives into the lives of people who’ve suffered real loss and tragedy, and so it makes the loss inescapable. every direction you look, someone’s life has been irrevocably altered by the murders you learn about in the story. it gives you no space to push away the murder—no, you need to sit directly in its field of impact. all the fucking time. you are not watching the town suffer, you’re suffering with the town. the story sucks you in and makes you live alongside the rest of them; it's why the first watch hurts so raw. because the story refuses to let you take a true-crime approach. because it refuses to prioritize the narratives of perpetrators over human lives. you are there, and you are hurting.

man. really, if you're going to watch anything, watch this.

[whatswrongwithblue]

Girl Talk

Part Two of my Imagines with Angel Dust.

“So Alastor, he’s like all . . .” Angel Dust made strange gestures with his hands above his head, his thumbs pressed to his hair and fingers splayed out, and you were fairly certain he was trying to mimic antlers growing. “. . . murder-y and shit right? Even if he’s at the hotel, you can’t expect us to believe he’s stopped doing all that.”

It was late at night and you and Angel were at the bar, keeping Husk company, and nursing a couple of cocktails.

Alastor had disappeared hours ago, which wasn’t unusual, but it was getting late. You weren’t letting yourself be worried just yet, he was the Radio Demon after all, and could certainly take care of himself. But you couldn’t help being a little on edge. Alastor always came home but still. He could give you an idea of where he had gone off to and what he was doing when he took off like this.

“Why, are you going to tattle to Charlie if I say he is?” you said, a little too defensively.

“Hey, I ain’t no rat,” Angel said, also defensive. “I’m just trying to figure the guy out.”

“He’s still the Radio Demon,” you respond vaguely.

“Oh well that tells me everything.” Angel rolled his eyes.

Husk chuckled, wiping a glass dry.  

“He’s a serial killer and a cannibal. The day that guy stops doing all that is the day I’ll stop drinking and gambling.”

You scowl over the rim of your cocktail.

“You make him sound like a monster when you say it like that.”

Husk raised an eyebrow at you.

“Excuse me if I ain’t your boytoy’s number one fan. ‘Sides, not like anything I said wasn’t true.”

“Hey, he’s not out their killing all willy nilly, right?” Angel offered. “I mean, I pissed him off the other day and he let me go. Val woulda done way worse. So that means he’s got a type, I’m assuming? Like a uh . . . a demographic . . . of people he kills. If you ain’t that, he’ll still be creepy and fucking weird, but you’re probably safe.”

“Probably,” you smirk.

“Whatever,” Husk said with a grumble, and threw his towel over his shoulder, turning his back on the two of you.

“So, about those tentacles-“

“No,” you snapped, cutting off Angel’s sentence before it could be finished.

“Oh come on! You can’t leave me hanging like that!”

You just rolled your eyes and sighed, taking another sip of your drink.

“Oh . . . hanging, now there’s a thought,” Angel pressed on. “So suspensory play, huh? I bet those are really fun for that. Just how talented is the guy with those things? Because I bet with some practice, you could even use them for some interesting kind of Shibari. Or is he unimaginative and just shoves them right up your-“

“Angel, seriously, did you not learn your lesson last time?”

“Oh I learned my lesson all right. I learned how hot it is. So c’mon, admit it,” he teased, leaning closer to you, “you guys are into bondage.”

You laughed, unable to hide the sly smile on your face, but said nothing.

“I guess it makes sense,” Angel continued, “the guy does own souls. He’s probably gotta have that type of control in the bedroom.”

“You just go ahead and let your imagination run wild, my friend,” you said with a giggle.

“Baby, my imagination can run marathons,” Angel bragged. Then suddenly, he turned serious and looked over at you. “Wait, does he own your soul?”

Husk turned around and both men were now looking at you. Knowing both of their predicaments, you almost felt bad for your answer.

“No,” you said quietly.

“NO?!” Angel yelled, slapping his hand down on the bar counter.

‘No,” you repeated.

“But . . . but, that’s what he does. I mean, he even owns Niffty’s soul. So why are you with him-“

“Angel,” you interrupted, putting your hand on his arm. “I’m with him because I love him. Because I choose to be.” You said your words firmly, making sure your point was crystal clear. “And anyway, Alastor’s not the type to sleep with a soul he owns. It’s hard to explain his twisted moral code but he would think that was rude . . . or abusive . . . or just trashy. No offense.”

You knew about Angel’s forced and strained deal with Valentino and felt awkward, exposing the stark differences between your relationship and theirs.

“If I was making him sound like a monster, you’re making him sound like a fucking angel,” Husk said.

“Fair,” you agreed. “So, he’s complicated. But so am I.”

“So you really are into monster fucking. Got it,” Angel said, sounding deadly serious but when you looked at him, you saw the hint of a smile beginning to spread across his face.

“Wellllll,” you said, drawing out the word and giving Angel a side eye, “sometimes he has to blow off some steam. And those antlers are great for holding onto for balance.”

Angel choked on the drink he was taking a sip from.

“Now we’re talking,” Angel replied, eagerly leaning towards you again.

You held up a finger, stopping Angel from invading your space anymore. “That’s more than enough information for now.”

“Let me get this straight. He’s got the tentacles, he’s got the antlers,” Angel listed, holding up a finger for each item on his list. He held up a third finger, looking at you and tilting his head expectantly. “Say, you ever have a threesome with his shadow?”

You felt your face heating up, desperately trying to keep your composure and think of a witty response that wouldn’t give anything more away than your expression was, when thankfully you were saved by the front doors of the hotel slamming open.

Alastor walked in, his usual confident walk more of an exhausted shuffle, and he was covered head to toe in blood and the occasional clump or string of viscera.

“Holy shit buddy,” Angel exclaimed, “looks like you bit off more than you can chew.”

“I’m fine,” Alastor huffed and waved his hand dismissively. “Splendid, really. Just need some cleaning up.”

“Do you need any help?” you asked, sounding more flirty than concerned.

“Down girl,” Alastor replied and tapped you on the head with his microphone as he strode past you. “I’ll see you all in the morning.”

He evaporated into shadow as he reached the staircase.

“If he could just do that, then why’d he have to make a show of walking through the front doors?” Angel complained, “He left bloody footprints all over the lobby!”

“That’s Al’ for you,” Husk said, “Always gotta be dramatic.”

You sat in silence, ignoring the two men’s banter and you gripped the glass of your cocktail, staring at it as if it had your entire focus.

A few moments went by where no one said anything and the lull in conversation became awkward.

“You don’t have to stay down here, you know,” Angel offered. “I can tell you want to go sexually attack him.”

You nodded. “I need to go lick every inch of that man clean,” you said and headed upstairs.

Part 3

[inbabylontheywept]

Realizing in hindsight that the only reason I was so skeptical about your camp story is that being covered in a combination of crusty, sticky pink residue and rotten fish oil for days on end while sleeping on a wooden floor in the Arizona heat sounded like such unbearable sensory agony that I wanted to convince myself it was fake, because I didn't want to believe that anybody had genuinely been through that. I'd have walked out of that place with a rucksack of pink ooze and either find my way back to civilization or become crispy pink buzzard chow after day 2.

Like, legitimately, I think about my reaction to that post a lot. The imagery was so deeply unpleasant that I was desperately scrambling to convince myself it wasn't true like I'd just found out my spouse was a serial killer. There was no torture, no death, no hunger or disease, just a bunch of sweaty guys being covered in sticky fruit-flavored slime, subjected to unpleasant smells, and sleeping blanketless on the floor. And you can't even smell! You were spared a good third of it! Yet your experience still horrified me worse than any war story, medieval torture device or horror movie for reasons I cannot hope to fathom.

idk, I've had this ask stewing in my head for months, but I keep forgetting to actually write and send it. In my heart of hearts, I knew your story was perfectly plausible. I was just grasping at straws, praying for you to admit that no, nobody has ever showered in off-brand Gatorade and then not slept for 3 days while being expected to attend uni lectures. It's all untrue, a ruse, a trick, and such things could never happen outside of the cruelest depths of hell. Santa Claus is real, teachers live in the school, babies are delivered by storks, and the pink sauce incident never happened.

My mom pulls me into a warm hug after I scrape my knee. The plastic egg I found under the couch opens to reveal a piece of chocolate. A dollar magically appears under the pillow where I'd put my tooth. All is well. I am safe. The universe is kind, and whoever's running it loves me.

It's a sunny August day and I'm holding a popsicle on the swingset. I'm using my plastic dinosaurs to act out an improvised battle between good guys and bad guys as I sit on the carpeted floor. I'm playing Fossil Fighters on my dinged-up Nintendo DS in the plush brown armchair by the window.

I add the carrot nose to my snowman. Candy plops into my Halloween bag. The speaker on the classroom wall announces that school's out for summer, and we all bound out the door with wild glee, free at last.

Panting, wheezing, I drag my battered form back into the cobbled-together wreckage of my innocence, only one arm remaining with which to drag myself, blood and intestines trailing behind me as the storm rages overhead, washing my entrails downstream. I huddle underneath what remains of my once-pristine shelter from the cold and wet, pulling the shards back together as best I can as the wind howls angrily, hatefully. It's no use. It's broken. It's gone. It cannot be repaired. My innocence will never return to me. The rain seeps through the cracks and lands upon my face.

The rain is pink, I realize, and I cry.

First off: I haven’t actually been on the receiving end of this before and I have to say, it's an almost literally gripping experience. I felt this rat for the last three paragraphs.

Incredibly well done. Second: If you just didnt' want to believe, that's fine, I barely have room in me for medium fries - a grudge would just pour out the top, too much tea for my cup. But you don't have to like, gaslight yourself into thinking the story is totally normal and believable (I always stretch my stories out a little) or beat yourself up over it for months. I meant it when I said we're good, you and I. It still makes me happy to see a comment or a like or, rarely, a question like this from you.

If it's just something that pops into your mind every now and again, I dunno, don't sweat it. I'd hate to give you a complex. Did I mention that I loved that writing for this? Incredible experience.

[catgriffin]

I've heard a couple people argue against radioapple because it's mainly just sexualizing the two. While that is true for most of it. That doesn't mean it has to be. Because listen:

What if, in the final battle, Lucifer is taking on an entire army of angels for the sake of his kingdom, his daughter, and his new friends. Alastor watches helplessly as Lucifer had ordered him to stand by, because even Alastor would surely be killed. He watches as Lucifer is cutting down angels, they're dropping like birds shot out of the sky. Even so, their numbers become overwhelming and difficult to manage. Alastor, realizing the danger Lucifer's in, for the first time, feels concern.

Lucifer finally starts taking damage, the angels swarming him. Alastor's feet move before his brain has time to process what he's doing. Inky, black tentacles launch him into the sky, back to back with Lucifer, he uses shadows as a shield to protect Lucifer from an angelic spear headed straight for his heart. Why is he protecting him?

Alastor, one of the most feared overlords, a serial killer and cannibal, narcissistic, psychopathic, heartless, evil... finally started caring about someone else more than himself. Respect, strength and fame means nothing in that moment. Just that the first person he's ever loved is safe.

What if Lucifer's light finally chases away Alastor's dark thoughts, tendencies, and insecurities? White light that burns away the shadows. Lucifer holding Alastor in his weakest moment. Reassuring him it's okay.

What if Lucifer is the one that takes Alastor down from his high horse and helps him through his inevitable breakdown? What if Lucifer helps him break his deal? Lucifer, fighting to save Alastor and telling him it's okay to not be at the top.

What if Alastor helps Lucifer out of his depression, teach him how to move on from what I'm suspecting was bad past relationships? They get over their dad rivalry and work together to protect and teach Charlie.

Their relationship doesn't need to be sex, it's just love and care, something I think they could both benefit from. I think Lucifer is autistic and speaking as an autistic person quite a few of us are somewhere on the ace spectrum, I really don't think asexual alastor would be any kind of issue for Lucifer.

(Edit)HAVING SAID ALL THAT I think radioapple might be better as just fan art and such because although I'm not aroace myself I can understand wanting the representation because it's true there doesn't seem to be much of it out there. If it were to become canon I think it's safe to say a lot of people would be upset.

[ktficworld]

Behind The Red Curtains

Pairing: soft dark! Steve Rogers x actress! reader

Summary: You come to know that your success might not be solely because of your talent.

Warnings: 18+, dub-con, forced relationship, bondage, size kink, degradation + praise kink, choking, oral(f receiving ), unprotected sex( it's fiction, your life's not), dirty talk, explicit language, explicit sexual content.

(Let me know if I forgot something)

Prompt: Oral sex, overstimulation, praise, Mob au, Blackmail + Cum play + “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? I think you even enjoyed it.”

A/N: So, this is my entry for the cum together extravaganza hosted by @labella420 and @stargazingfangirl18

I wanted to write this for a long time after the provocation by @biteofcherry 👀. I hope you all enjoy and this is my first time writing smut so, be gentle.

Divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Main masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

“Johnny Storm was seen with the new sensation in the modelling industry yesterday night. Rumor has it-”

You pressed the switch-off button with more force than needed as the squeaky voice of the anchor finally died down. Throwing the remote across the bed, you groaned in agitation.

You were dating Johnny Storm. Everything was going well, the meeting was story worthy, he was handsome, charming and had some good qualities you were looking for. This was the first relationship you got into since entering the film industry. Because you may be a hopeless romantic, but you were also choosy.

You didn’t know what happened in the process that just torpedoed your budding relationship. One day you were walking out of a cafe hand-in-hand and the next day, he was fucking some modelling sensation. Maybe you got lost in translation.

Or maybe he was just a fucking asshole. No matter what happened it showed you his true colors. That or instead of coming to you to talk out his issues, he went around, fucking and ghosted you.

Oh, but that was not the problem. The real problem was that you were shooting a movie with him. A romantic movie, with sex scenes. And you have no idea how you would be able to show any affection or chemistry on the screen without being awkward as fuck. This would be the best test of your acting skills for sure.

“Why do you look like you regret being born?” your friend and manager, Wanda asked as she entered your room.

You glanced at her and rolled your eyes. She was trying to lighten your melancholic mood but, it was of no use. “You know damn well why.”

She sighed. “I know, but you’re a great actress. You could easily pull off a serial killer then a rom-com is nothing for you. Don’t get worked up about it. Just imagine your celebrity crush instead.”

You laughed at that. You worked with people whom the masses considered celebrity and if you had a crush, you’d simply ask them out. So, you’re stuck in that department.

“I appreciate your support and I’ll get over this. Just give me some time. Is that why you came here?”

Wanda shook her head with a smile. “No, actually the PR guy told me to tell you to go to partage restaurant. Someone wants to meet you.”

You frowned. “You know if I started giving time to ‘someones’ then I won’t even be able to breathe. I need the specifics.”

“He didn’t tell me. Said the person didn’t want to be known till you meet them. But he said you need to go or they’ll be pissed and it could pose a problem to your career.”

Some rich asshole again. You pinched your nose in frustration. People really glamorised a celeb’s life but if they knew that you all have to play rich people’s puppets, they wouldn’t be so enthusiastic about it. 

“Fine, I’ll go. What time and day?”

“8 p.m Sunday.”

“Great. Now get lost, I need my beauty sleep.”

Your heels clicked on the floor as you stepped inside the restaurant to utter silence. 

The usually bustling restaurant was deserted. There was no violin swimming in the air, mingling with the chatter of the expensive people, the polished tables had no spilled drinks and the fine plates had no leftovers. The lobby had no sight of a reception and all the staff had evaporated out of existence. You were half doubting yourself that maybe you arrived at the wrong time or date. Maybe the restaurant was closed.

But all of them vanished when a prim and proper lady approached you. You had never seen her before but you didn’t care to ask if she was new.

“Good evening, ma’am, you may go to the VIP area upstairs. Sir is waiting for you there.” She said in a professional voice.

“Yeah, sure. But can I ask why the restaurant is empty?”

“He booked the entire restaurant.” She said like it was the most normal thing in the world. It was not like this place costed more than the top-paying actors in the Hollywood.

You thanked the woman with a polite smile you went upstairs to get to the VIP section.

The he made you shudder from inside. Another sleazy old man who thought that you would open your legs for him just because he was rich was awaiting you and judging by the stunt he pulled. You’d have to be more tactful.

Reaching the shiny golden doors with a lion emblem, separating the demi-gods from the gods, you knocked on the door of the VIP room.

“Come in.” A thick and deep voice called out, making you frown. How come an old man has such a great voice?

Oh, but how wrong you were. Because, as soon as you opened the door, in front of you, sat a man who was far from aged. He was pure muscles. His rings sparkled in the chandelier lights. Draped in the finest black suit with his blonde hair combed back, sat none other than Steve Rogers, the mafia lord of New York. The one who you have been trying to avoid your entire career. Who posed as a successful businessman but everyone was aware of how he earned his dollars. Just, they were too afraid to acknowledge it.

You couldn’t move an inch, frozen from fear and surprise. You had only met him once, during the premiere of your debut film and people had acted like he wasn’t someone who could wipe them off from the face of the earth without even blinking an eye. That night, his eyes were glued to you like Hades's gaze on Persephone. So intense and consuming that you never wanted to see him again.

And now, here you were.

“Sit down, darling.” He husked out, the sound of alcohol filling his glass reverberating through the walls.

Breaking out of your trance with a gulp. You pulled out the chair and sat down across from him while your heart was in your throat. “Good evening, Mr. Rogers. What brings me the pleasure of your company.’ You managed to get out without your voice cracking.

He smirked and leaned back on his chair. “It’s your beauty, your talent and your creativity that brings you here, sweetheart. I’m a big fan of art and beautiful things, you are both of them.”

“Thank you…” You drawl out, expecting him to continue.

“I liked you the moment I saw you. In your pink dress, you looked so innocent, so shy. Overwhelmed by the media attention. I knew you would do something big so I gave you the freedom to shine and shine you did. However, it looks like your freedom has got to your head.” The last sentence was said with a lower voice and an ominous smile.

Your hands became sweaty as they clamped down on the armrest. “I’m not getting what you are trying to say.” You whispered out. 

His chuckle only made your heartbeat faster as he leaned forward and his gaze bore into your soul. “Let me rephrase, I claimed you the moment I saw you. But I knew you had potential so I let you go but your little dance with Johnny Storm made me realise it was time you became mine.”

“What-what did you do?” You choked out but you weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer.

You yelped as he yanked your chair closer towards him till your knees were touching. Your chest moved rapidly as he leaned closer, his hands covering yours on the armrest.

“Awww, don’t play stupid, honey. Johnny, he’s a himbo and you are mine,” He said as his left hand moved to caress your cheek as you flinched away from his touch. “So, I pulled some strings, fed some mouths with dollars and your cute little on-set romance came to an end.” Your eyes widened in horror as he was the one that ended your relationship with Johnny. 

He gripped your face in his big hand and turned your head so that his eyes burned through yours. “Trust me, honey, I was generous with him. I could have him disappear and no one would have given a shit.”

“No.” You whispered, wrenching his hands away. You suddenly stood up from your chair, effectively surprising him.

“No?”

“That is not happening. I don’t want to be with you, I’m sorry.”  You stumbled back to the door but before you could touch the doorknob, you were whirled around and pushed against it.

“When did I tell you, you could say no?” Steve growled his hand wrapping around your throat. “If you think you can reject me then you are sorely mistaken, darling. Don’t forget that the production house you work with the most is mine.” 

You gasped. How could it be his? It was of Tony Stark, you scorched the earth and back and found no such connection. 

Steve noticed your reaction and tsked.“You didn’t know? Don’t worry, you are not stupid sweetheart. The public doesn’t know that Stark is nothing but my pawn.” His other hand snaked around to squeeze your ass through your jeans and you screwed your eyes shut as his touch sent tingles through your body and your breaths became shorter.

He tugged you closer to him with your neck, his breath fanning over your skin. “Now, do you still want to be stubborn?”

Now, you were no dumbo. If Steve can jeopardize your relations with his production then he can also ruin your entire career. Mob involvement in the film industry is an unsaid rule. However, you didn’t know their claws were so deep and sharp.

“And what if I leave? Leave this industry?” What could be more precious than your pride?

He gave you a lopsided grin. “Then you’ll just be the wife of Steve Rogers who was an actress. Remember princess, I’ll never leave you alone. If I held onto you for three years what makes you think I’ll not find you and drag you to my hell?” 

Tears threatened your waterline as you murmured. “You are really forcing me?” What a stupid question to be asking a mobster.

He let out a throaty chuckle and moved his hand from your neck to his pant pocket however he was still invading your private space as his lips were inches away from your lips. “I’m giving you options: either come willingly or I’ll force you. Your choice, darling.” 

He fished out a silver card from his pocket, tracing the sharp and cold edges of it on your face, meandering down your neck and stopping only when it reached the valley of your breast. You gasped harshly when he slid the card inside your bra, the chilled hard paper resting against your warm skin.

“My number, call me when you make a decision. You have one week.”  He whispered against your lips before sealing the unspoken vow with a kiss.

With that he slipped away from your body and took his seat again like dark clouds gilding away from the moon before shortly, engulfing it once again. He resumed sipping from his glass like nothing serious happened and said nonchalantly. “You can go now.” 

You ran to your car like you were burned. Which you were, your soul was burning. Burning from the choices you were given. Which was essentially choosing which cage you preferred better, golden or grey.

“Did you like the dinner?” Steve asked in his deep voice as he sat across from you at the dining table.

Blinking your eyes away from the full moon that shone outside the dining room window, you glanced at Steve and nodded. “Yes, I liked it.” 

You did come to him willingly in the end, after all, what choice did you have? The moment you admitted your defeat and called Steve flashed in front of your eyes. His smug and triumphant words ringing in your ears.

“Nice choice, princess.”

“You seem to like the moon a lot,” Steve observed as his piercing gaze never left you, noting your every move and reaction.

You looked down at your hands, clasped in front of you. His presence still sent chills of fear down your spine. His imposing figure and intense gaze made your heart race. Not to mention the way his eyes sparkled with desire and lust whenever they laid upon you.

“Yes, the night is beautiful.” You replied softly.

“Do you want to go upstairs? In the balcony for a better view? I also have a very pretty garden.” Steve offered and you refrained from frowning. 

From the moment you accepted his advances, Steve has been acting like the perfect lover. Sending flowers, expensive gifts, wanting to have nice and deep conversations and supporting you in your work. But still, you couldn’t decipher if he was actually being nice or plain manipulative.

However, you had grown tired, sitting and chatting in the room, the walls suffocating you. “I would like that.”

Steve grinned and stood up from his chair, taking a few long strides he reached you and offered you his hand. “Let’s go.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, slipping your hand in his, you got up. You sucked a sharp breath when his hand tightened around your smaller one and his eyes grew darker. You ignored the building tension as he led you upstairs, to the balcony.

His mansion was spectacular, painted beige with marble murals. It resembled old French castles with intricate paintings from Greek mythology on walls to railing carved with various plant and flower motifs.

When he said he enjoyed beauty, he wasn’t bluffing.

Stepping on the top floor, there was a lounge area with a fireplace on the right and a couch on the left. In front was the glass door leading to the balcony. Steve opened the door and you had to hold back your gasp as the view was absolutely breathtaking. 

It had the same marble railing as before and also had a sitting space for two people with two chairs and one glass table, perfect for a cosy morning or evening. The balcony ran along the entire top floor, connected with all the rooms.

However, the main highlight was the enormous garden that stood before your eyes. Tall trees were perched vertically of all types, some bearing fruits, some flowers and some none. Speaking of flowers, bright, colourful flowers adorned the garden like jewels. Rose, jasmine, sunflower, etc scattered all over with moonlight pouring on them.

It was straight out of a princess movie and you could spend your entire life wandering inside it, reading books under the tree shade.

“It’s gorgeous.” You whispered to Steve as you stepped forward, leaning on the railing.

“I know, my mother made it. She wanted me to keep the garden big and flourishing. So, I put everything I could to keep it perfect.” Steve revealed and moved behind you, his body pressing against yours.

You were so engrossed in gazing at the garden that you missed his hand coming to cover yours and he laid a soft kiss on your cheek.

“What are you doing?” You questioned as you tried to step away from his grip but he had you trapped.

“Enjoying my view,” He said as he gripped your hips and pressed them against him, his semi-hard cock pressing against your ass. “See what you do to me?”

His lips trailed down, kissing and sucking on your neck. His left hand travelled from your hips to your breast, he squeezed the underside of your tities while grinding his erection against your bottom. Your breathing was getting heavy as he continued to massage your boobs and sucked on your neck, collarbone and shoulder.

You had to refrain from biting your lips. His strong body and demanding moves were making you unwillingly wet. But he forced you into a relationship you didn’t want, you didn’t want this, right?

“I don’t want to do it.” You whispered despite wanting nothing but his hands under your scarlet dress.

“No?” He chuckled. “Let’s check, shall we?” He whispered seductively in your ear.

Your eyes widened as you thrashed in his grip but he stopped all your attempts to deny the truth with a hand around your neck and a squeeze that made you go still. His other hand glided under your dress and found your panties damp.

“Your pussy proved you wrong, princess.” He said with a smug laugh. He sucked at your pulse point as his fingers moved your lace panties aside and caressed your folds. The suddenness made you let out a choked moan as your hold tightened on the railing.

His words embarrassed you but you couldn’t deny that his touch was making your body betray you. He played your body like an instrument.

His fingers ran along your petals, spreading your arousal and brushing your clit, his index finger teasing your entrance when he abruptly stopped.

You blinked, gasping and panting. You were about to glance at him in confusion when he bent you over, your head resting against the marble railing as he went down on his knees, bunching up your dress around your waist. He ripped off your panties, the sound heating your cheeks with humiliation.

“You deserve to be punished.” He said through gritted teeth as he slapped your clit, making you jerk at the delicious sting as he spread your legs wider for him so your pussy was on full display. Wet and ready.

“Spank your ass till it’s burning for going out with that pathetic excuse of a man Johnny or have Bucky watch you as I fuck you senseless. He’s also a fan after all." He spread your labia and sucked on your clit, making you moan out loud as your stomach flipped.

“But I can’t, because this pussy is too tempting of a distraction.” He lamented as his lips went down to your pussy and his tongue teased your cunt with slow yet precise strokes.

Your left hand moved to his hair and tugged on the blonde locks as his administration made your clit pulsate with need. You couldn’t decipher whether you wanted him to stop or continue.

He tutted on you pulling his hair. You whimpered at the loss of his mouth on your pussy when the clicking of his belt echoed in the empty space. He yanked both your hands behind your back and secured them in place with his belt, the grip firm but not harsh. 

“No.Touching.” He growled in your ear as his words were accentuated by a slap on each of your buttcheeks, making you whimper in pain and pleasure as you let your forehead rest against the cool marble and he knelt again.

He took your clit in his mouth again but with more ferocity as your pussy clenched around nothing, “Oh my god, Steve yes!” You mewled.

“Captain or I won’t let you cum.” He commanded as his fingers joined in and drew slow and teasing circles around your cunt.

“Captain, please.” You pleaded as your orgasm started to build up in your stomach.

“Good girl, that’s my good girl.” He finally eased his index finger inside of you, his thick and long finger filling your pussy and you were afraid as to how you were going to take his cock as his finger alone stretched your vagina.

He pumped his finger in and out of you all the while kissing and sucking your clit. When you bucked into his finger he added another one, exploring your velvety walls to find your spot that would make you sing. He curled his fingers when you dripped around his fingers and mouth.

“Mhmm, captain. Feels so good.” You cried out as your climax was approaching you faster, your skin glistening with sweat under the pale moonlight. It was so embarrassing, being this crying and moaning mess he had turned you into. His hands kneading your thighs and ass.

“Are you going to cum, princess?” Steve asked in a husky voice as he kept up his pace, replacing his mouth with his thumb to grow circles around the bundle of nerves,

Your skin was on ablaze, the coil tightening in your belly as you were tethering on the of falling apart. “Yes, Captain. Please let me cum.” You requested, spellbound. He didn’t need to ask you to beg, you were already sliding into your subspace. His finger found your g spot as he twisted his fingers, making you whimper as your breath shuddered.

He snickered, sending vibrations through your body. “I didn’t know you were so obedient, good to know.”His hand came down on your clit and it was the final straw that threw you over the edge. 

You came with a loud moan as the blinding pleasure brought tears to your eyes and you gushed around his lips and fingers, coating his chin. He lapped all your juice, his pace not halting as he drank your nectar greedily.

Your body was quivering from the force of your orgasm, your heart racing as you tried to collect yourself.

Steve got up on his feet and you almost collapsed when he wrapped a sturdy hand around your shaking body, pressing you against his chest. He jutted your chin up and grinned down at you. “Aw, you already look so fucked out darling but it’s just the beginning, we have the whole night.” He smashed his lips with yours, swallowing your tired whimpers and moans.

After devouring your mouth and leaving you breathless. He picked you up and started walking to his left. You were too dizzy to notice your surroundings till you were hitting silk bed sheet and plush mattress. You glanced at Steve through your hazy vision as he stood at the end of the bed.

He smirked down at you. “How about you return the favour, sweetheart? Strip.” He ordered and it was enough to clear your mind of any hangover.

Your hand snaked to your back and you slid down the zipper and pulled off your dress, your breast clad in red lace coming into view as you completely removed the dress and discarded it on the floor.

You then unclasped your bra, trepidation and anticipation mingling together as your boobs spilled out. Now, you were completely naked, your panties already torn and tossed away.

“On your hands and knees.” He commanded as he quickly unbuttoned his shirt, his abs and chest made your mouth water and you wanted to grab and touch him but shook away the thoughts.

You got on your hands and knees, clothes rustling till the bed dipped behind you. Steve ran his hand up your spine, sneaking underneath to grop your breast. You mewled as his thumb tweaked your pebbled nipples, twisting and flickering the buds till you were writhing under him.

His other hand smacked your ass, causing you to whimper. “Spread your legs more, I want to see that pussy.”

You spread your legs some more, displaying your glistening cunt to Steve’s hungry gaze. “You have such a pretty pussy.” He said as he played with you enough that you were whining before he rubbed the tip of his cock over your cunt, spreading your arousal and his pre cum.

You shuddered, you had an inclining that he was big but how much? That you didn’t know since you couldn’t see his dick from your position.

He slapped the head of his cock on your pussy and you visibly shuddered. He did it a few more times before you were dripping for him and was on the verge of sobbing in frustration. 

“Such a shame that it is about to get ruined by my big cock.” He declared and pushed the tip inside you. You moaned as you awaited your eventual mounting.

You clutched the silky sheets as he slowly bottomed out, your walls spasmed as they tried to accommodate his length. You were so full already and he was gracious enough to give you time to adjust. All the while he explored your body, kissing your spine, kneading and spanking your thighs, ass and breasts. His touch was electrifying and in no time, you were whimpering for him to move.

“Ah, someone is getting impatient.” Steve mocked but began moving out of your hot channel. He was slow and deliberate, his girth dragged through your walls and your pussy fluttered.

He hissed. “Don’t do that darling if you want to walk the next day.” He pulled out all the way, only the tip remained inside. Pushing your head further into the pillow as he slammed inside your cunt in one stroke, taking your breath away.

“Look at your pussy, pulling me in and clenching around me,” He grunted as his hold on your hips tightened. He looked where you two were connected and sighed in awe. “I didn’t know you were such a slut, you look so innocent. But look at you now, dripping around a man’s dick you barely know,” He pulled out again and thrusted back in with the same power. The slow yet rough pace he set made you cry out in pleasure as your climax started to stir in your lower belly again. “But I like how cockdrunk you are that you just don’t give a shit anymore.” He groaned and pulled out.

He changed his angle slightly and when he thrusted back again, he hit your g-spot and you screamed, flames of pleasure intensifying. He tugged you by the hair, pressing you against his toned chest. “Tell me that you are my slut.” He growled in my ear.

“I’m your slut, Captain!” you said breathlessly as his deep thrusts made you gasp.

His hand came to your clit and his thumb started drawing circles, making you tremble in his grip. “Yes, you are my slut. My fuck toy, who would let me do whatever I want and whenever I want with her because I own you now. Repeat what I have said.” He thrusted harder and if it wasn't for his strong grip, you would have fallen down. 

“I'm your fuck toy. You can do whatever you want and whenever you want with me because you own me now.” You cried. 

“Such a good obedient girl- Ahh, taking my cock so well. Now, you are going to ask me to make you cum.” He groaned his thumb sped up. Leaning down, he sucked on your pulse point, surely leaving a hickey, marking you as his.

“Please Captain, let me cum! Let me cum around your big cock.” You squealed out. Tilting your face upwards he kissed, hard and rough, you moaned against his lips as you tasted yourself on him.

“Good girl, now cum for me.” He demanded as fingers and thumb pinched your clit, his cock hitting your sweet spot in quick succession.

You shrieked ‘captain’ as you came around his girth, squirting on his dick. “Good, what a good little slut for your captain.” He moaned in satisfaction as he nibbled at your earlobe, fucking you through your release. 

He let go of you when your shaking died down. Your face fell on the pillow as you tried to catch your breath. Your fucked out mind didn’t register that he didn’t come till you were being flipped on your back. Coming face-to-face with his annoyingly handsome face.

“You didn’t think it was over, did you?” He rasped with a smirk as he plunged into your cunt once again, but this time with more fervour.

You instantly mewled but the overstimulation and coming two times had worn you out, you weren’t used to this. You attempted to scoot away from Steve. “I-I can’t, too much.” 

He pulled you back down on his cock, wrapping your legs around his waist. He restrained your hands over his head with one hand, leaving you unable to escape the pleasure he was giving you. “You can and you will. Get used to it, sweetheart. I’m being gentle right now,” He growled as he moved on top of you.

The pace was rough and fast, the bed rattling with each thrust, your boobs jiggled from the speed. He placed his hand on your lower stomach. “Do you feel me here?” He asked, the belly bulge sending shivers down your spine.

“Yes, I do, Captain.” You managed to choke out as he pounded in your pussy mercilessly.

“Then enjoy it, honey. Enjoy, writhing and moaning underneath me. My cock stretching your tight cunt, because that’s where you belong. Taking my cock like a good little fuck doll.” He husked as the force of his thrust increased with each passing second. The pain and pleasure mixing made tears fall from your eyes, the knot tightening yet again.

Steve leaned over you, kissing your tears, trailing down to your neck and then your boobs, groping and licking the plump area before taking your pebbled nipples into his hot mouth.

“Oh my god!” Your back arched, pleasure zapping through your body like thunder as his hot tongue sucked on your nipples and his hand massaged your other breast. All the while his thick cock rammed into you, his pubic areas brushing your clit.

Your hands jolted to touch him but he had your hands pinned above. You shut your eyes and enjoyed the unyielding pleasure he was bestowing upon you as pressure built up for the third time in your stomach. Your moans and his grunts bounced off the wall, so did the clapping sound of skin slapping against the skin.

Suddenly, his grasp loosened before coolness touched your ring finger. You looked up as he slid a beautiful sapphire ring into your finger, sealing your fate with his forever. You managed out a surprised gasp. He brought your hand down and pinned it to your side, giving you a proper view of the ring as it sparkled under the stark glowing moon.

“Imagine me, sweetheart,” Your breath caught in your throat as his speed grew frantic, his cock hitting the deepest part of your cunt as he chased his own release. “Imagine me when you have to romance on screen with some pitiful A-list actor.” He whispered in your ear, intertwining your hands with his as he kissed your lips. It was softer than the previous ones but no less demanding.

“Imagine me when you have to pretend to fuck someone on set. Because I know,” He whispered against your lips before lowering his hand to your clit and he drew fast circles on the bundle of nerves to help you fall apart. 

Steve cursed under his breath and thrusted faster when your walls clenched his dick. “Because I know that I have ruined you for any other man. Ruined this pussy for anyone except me. So, imagine me when you kiss a man and realize that he’ll never make you feel this good.” You nodded along his words as tears streamed down your cheeks, smearing your eyeliner and mascara but he paid no heed to it. Rather, enjoying your fucked out state.

The fullness of his dick inside your pussy and the overwhelming stimulation finally tipped you over the edge as you came the hardest and it hit you like a tsunami.

After some more brutal thrust, he came inside of you with a loud groan. His hot cum spilling inside your abused cunt as it milked him dry. He pumped into you a few more times, giving you every last drop of his seed and staying inside your warm channels till his cock softened.

He put his forehead against yours as he finally pulled out and you almost whined at the loss of dick but restrained yourself as his cum leaked out of your hole.

Only heavy breaths echoed in the spacious room as both of you caught your breath. You were beyond regaining your previous strength as you couldn’t even move a muscle. However, Steve recovered shortly afterwards as he kissed your forehead and whispered smugly. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? I think you even enjoyed it.” 

You didn’t answer because he was right, you enjoyed every bit of it even if you didn’t want to. Before you could drown yourself in self-pity. Steve picked you up and took you to his bathroom to soak you in a nice, warm bath…

[ahsxual]

Hello lovely!! I have read all of your stories to do with Matthew Lillard and OMFG I love them sooooo I thought to request one myself. :D

I was thinking a Stu Macher x Fem!Reader who is Billy younger or twin sister (idk it’s up to you on that darling) who he is very positive of and has told Stu not to ever think about getting with her, one day Stu goes over there to hang out with Billy but had gone out with Sydney so Y/N answered the door and just tells him come in and they can watch a movie as they waited for Bill to come home, one thing leads to another and they end up in Y/N’s bedroom…..

Thank you for reading this request and I hope you are having a great Day/Night!

Don't Tell My Brother About Us

Warnings: +18 content, Cocky Stu, dirty talk, fingering, cunnilingus

Word Count: 2,7k

A/N: Tysm for requesting this, dear anon! I loved your idea and I really hope you like this❣️I also appreciate the fact that you like my writing 🥺🤗 I'm actually proud of this fic, I'm just gonna say that ;)

You knew Stu Macher from high school, since he was your twin brother's bestfriend. You even tried to join his friend group after a while since they all seemed so nice and fun, yet your attempts were declined by your sibling, for much to your chagrin, because Stu was constantly bothering your brother by making flirty jokes whenever you were with them, according to Billy. Even though you didn't like the fact that your brother wanted to keep you away from Stu, you couldn't help but feel delighted to acknowledge the real reason behind it.

Stu became your crush from the moment you met him, as his energetic, extroverted and cocky personality traits never ceased to charm you. He was incredibly fun to be with and as you hated feeling bored, you thought that would be impossible if you ever stayed with Stu. Those thoughts were obviously put aside the moment Billy noticed how you and Stu looked at each other. Billy had never seen you as amused and happy with a guy as you were with Stu, your eyes so bright that he was convinced the words sadness and boredom were no longer known to you. However, that wasn't enough to convince Billy that Stu was good for you, and that was the reason you drifted away from him: although he made your days brighter and vice-versa, Billy didn't lose his overprotective sibling attitude, always keeping an eye on his "sweet and innocent" sister.

.............................................................................................................................

"I'm going out with Sidney." Billy told you, while you were reading a romance book on the sofa about a serial killer who fell in love with one of his victims. When your brother said he was going out on a date with his girlfriend, you simply looked at him with a raised eyebrow, as if you didn't believe there were any genuine romantic intentions in what he had just said. "What?" he sounded annoyed by your judgmental gaze.

"Hm I don't know, you don't seem very excited about it. It looks like you don't even have true feelings for the girl." your tone was confident and assertive, since you knew your twin brother all too well. He just rolled his eyes at your comment, not wanting to admit you were right.

"Just cut it out, ok? As if you know what real love feels like, anyway." annoyance was present in his voice as he searched for his house keys.

"As if my lovely brother allows me to know what real love feels like." you simply replied, not moving your eyes from your current favorite book. Although you weren't looking at him, you could tell Billy's gaze on you could kill if you stared back.

"Y/N, we've talk about this. I'm not gonna let you be with Stu, you got that? I know him better than you, so listen to me for once and stop being such a brat." at this, it was your turn to roll your eyes, before getting up from the couch and heading to your room.

"Whatever Billy, enjoy your lovely date." you intentionally made an annoying tone at the word "lovely", which made Billy even more pissed by your behavior.

"I'll be back in two hours. Don't even think about inviting Stu over. I'm dead serious, Y/N." and with a final warning followed by a death stare, he closed the door to go out with his girlfriend that he pretended to be in love with for whatever reason.

You never understood why Billy was so overprotective over you when it came to Stu. Did he know something you didn't? Was Stu somehow dangerous or would he break your heart into a million pieces? Even if that was the main reason, honestly you didn't mind finding out for yourself if it meant you could be with Stu sexually or even romantically.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't concentrate on your novel after that conversation with your brother. Those questions couldn't leave your mind either, so you decided to use your free time to take care of yourself and get a proper treatment. You went to the bathroom to turn on the hot water, wanting nothing more than to relax after a long day of school. The water felt incredible on your skin, making you moan at the peaceful feeling. After a few minutes, you looked down at your legs and thought you'd better shave them as well as your pubic hair, since you wanted your skin to feel clean and smooth. Once you had finished, you put on a face mask before applying a body cream to your body. It felt so refreshing, as your worries and personal problems temporarily disappeared and were replaced by the feeling of pretending to be treated like a princess. You had so much fun on taking care of yourself and helping you raise your self-esteem that you almost didn't hear the doorbell ring. Why is Billy back already? And why did he ring the doorbell if you saw him take his house keys before he left? You quickly put on your cutest pajamas, since you were taking your princess treatment seriously, and ran to the door. You knew it was dangerous to open the door without checking who it was first, however you were expecting Billy, so you didn't pay much attention to it.

"Stu? What are you doing here?" you frowned as your eyes widened in disbelief, immediately feeling your cheeks turn red, because Stu was seeing you in your pajamas for the first time. Perhaps you should have checked who it was before opening the door so confidently, you noted mentally.

"Oh hey, Y/N! I didn't expect you to open the door. Not that I mind, you look really cute. Where's your brother?" you felt his big blue eyes on you, clearly checking you out as he looked you up and down. He also complimented you as if it was the most natural thing for him to do, probably having no idea of how hysterical it made you feel inside. After that, he walked past you as if he felt he had the right to enter your house without waiting for your permission.

"Uh... Billy didn't tell you? He left with Sid like half an hour ago. You should come back later or call him instead if you want to talk to him." you tried to say the right words so that Stu would get the message that he had to leave, since you didn't want to upset your brother and go against his word. However, deep down, if you listened to your needs, you wanted nothing more than to stay with Stu and enjoy his company, allowing yourself to get to know him better without being pressured into making small talk with him.

"Nahh it's cool, I can wait here. Wanna watch a movie? There's this crazy horror movie that came out recently and I really wanna watch it! Since Billy is not here, we could watch it together, what do you say?" his enthusiasm and energy were something you'd never seen before, and you found it very ironic and funny that he was the complete opposite of Billy, yet they managed to have such a deep and strong friendship. You were left speechless, knowing that your plan to convince Stu to leave your house before your brother got back went down the drain.

"Yeah, sure. Sounds like a plan." you answered, trying not to sound too excited about the idea of watching a movie with him and finally being able to be close to him and having some time alone with him as well.

"That's my girl! Where's the popcorn?" he asked casually, as he headed towards the pantry since he already knew yours and Billy's house like the back of his hand. What was he trying to do?? Drive you crazy with his constant compliments and flirting? Without needing your help, he picked a big bowl of popcorn that you had bought for yourself a few days ago and sat down on the sofa, using the tv remote to put on the movie he had chosen all by himself without giving you a chance to suggest any other ideas.

You stood paralyzed in the middle of the living room, still not processing that Stu was right in front of you waiting for you to join him... in your own house... alone.

"Are you gonna sit here with me or do I have to lift you up and make you sit on my lap instead?" his eyes were on you again, while an evident smirk was plastered on his handsome face. Oh God, he's definitely trying to drive you insane. It was then that you managed to move from where you were standing, walking slowly towards him. As soon as you sat down by his side, trying to keep some distance between the two of you so you could control yourself, you decided to speak.

"Look, Stu. I'd really enjoy to watch a movie with you, but you know damn well that if Billy finds us, he will-" as soon as you mentioned your brother's name, Stu immediately rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically.

"Come on Y/N, don't be like that! Billy is not here and if we want to be with each other, why should I stay away from you? It's not like I'm gonna jump on you and force you to have sex with me or something. I mean, unless you want me to." he laughed as if the whole thing was a joke to him, like he didn't understand the risks and the trouble you could both get into. He never took anything seriously and sometimes you wished you could be more like him. You blushed instantly at his shameless confession and your heart skipped a beat. Did he just admit he wanted to have sex with you as much as you did? When he saw your face, he started laughing exaggeratedly, obviously proud of himself for leaving you speechless and very shy with just a few words.

"My brother can't know you're here with me. Stu, I'm serious..." you didn't know what to say or how to react. The only thing you knew was that you weren't wearing panties and your pajama shorts were already wet.

"Oh really? Because I bet if I touched you right now, my fingers would be soaked." this time, his face was dead serious, his pupils dilated with lust and his intense eyes not leaving yours for even a second.

Your breathing was heavy by now, not wanting to give Stu the satisfaction of discovering how much you craved him. Without any warning, Stu grabbed your thigh and pulled you closer to him, surprising you with his unexpected strength. With his free hand, he easily moved the thin fabric of your pajama shorts and touched your bare cunt, proving his suspicions right. His long, slim fingers traced the drenched lips of your pussy, collecting your juices before circling your clit lightly. His teasing made you gasp and moan unintentionally so you bit your lips, forbidding yourself to let any more erotic sounds escape from your throat. He then brought his wet fingers into your vision, showing you how soaked you were for him with so little, as if you didn't already know. You felt extremely embarrassed at the sight displayed in front of you that Stu forced you to see, before a broad smile appeared on his face filled with pride. He eagerly took them into his mouth, moaning and sucking your cum off his fingers like it was the most delicious honey he had ever tasted in his life.

"Holy shit, I didn't know you tasted this good. Looks like I was right! My intuition never fails me, baby. You even shaved for me... looks like you knew this was gonna happen after all." he confessed with a big grin on his lips. You stood there with your legs slightly spread, not knowing whether to kiss him now and make your dreams come true or wait for his next move. Just as you were about to gather the courage to devour him, he was quicker and spoke first. "Now, let's watch this movie before that asshole returns home." and just like that, he pressed the play button and started the movie while eating popcorn as if nothing had happened.

You felt extremely annoyed and mad at him. How could he do this to you, only to stop his teasing and pretend that nothing had happened? How could he have so much self-control? Obviously, you couldn't focus on the movie, so you just enjoyed the sweet taste of the popcorn while trying your best, yet in vain, to extinguish the fire that was lit inside you. Twenty minutes into the movie, there wasn't as much action as you'd expect, which annoyed you and Stu as well. You almost missed how his eyes remained fixed on you, a smirk returning to his face with the intention of putting an end to what he had begun for good. You felt his right arm around you, after he had slowly approached you, as he whispered in you ear.

"I really enjoyed seeing you all frustrated because of me, but I promise you I'm not a selfish guy. I want to see my girl satisfied, even tho I like to tease you a bit. Come here, let me help you finish what I started." he said before getting up from the couch, offering his hand for you to take. You couldn't contain your excitement, so you rolled your eyes at him playfully and smiled excitedly, leading him to your room.

When you got there, he wasted no time and pushed you against the wall while kissing you feverishly, as if he needed to kiss you in order to survive. Your tongues and lips moved against each other as you fought for dominance, saliva spreading all over your chin and lips as he moved to your neck to give you visible love bites. You knew you'd have to cover that up later, but right now you didn't give a damn as you craved his possessive marks on you. You felt his hard cock against your core, rubbing against you to relieve some tension from both of you, and you could tell by its size that he was big. He quickly undressed you completely while he stripped only his shirt, enjoying your desperate look to see him fully naked too.

"Don't worry baby, you'll get to see my cock soon. Wait until it's inside you." he teased once again, before pushing you onto your bed, climbing up and grabbing your thighs close to his. He stared at your body as if it was the first time he'd seen a woman's naked body, as his lips salivated from hunger and desire. "Fuck, I knew you'd be beautiful naked, but nothing prepared me for seeing this gorgeousness all spread and wet for me." before you could react, you felt Stu kissing, sucking and biting your thighs to tease you a little longer, yet he quickly gave up on that idea and pressed his warm tongue against your throbbing clit.

To say that you moaned loudly was an understatement, as you screamed at the contact of his tongue on you while you clung to the soft sheets onto your dear life. He began eating you out like a mad man, alternating between sucking your clit and fucking your needy hole with his long tongue. You could tell he was skilled at oral sex, since it was the best you'd ever received and he made you cum in less than five minutes. Maybe you were ridiculously horny and turned on by him? Undoubtedly, yet his oral sex skills made everything better and much more intense. After that, he didn't stop his assaults on your overstimulated pussy, even if you begged him to. He made you cum a second time, but this time with his long fingers curled deep inside you. You felt like you were in heaven, as he gave you the most intense orgasm you had ever had in your entire life. You moaned like a porn star, unable to contain yourself, before you heard your front door slam shut.

You immediately leaned up on your elbows as you looked at Stu, who had an "oh fuck, we're screwed" expression on his face, accompanied by a contained laugh.

Indeed, you were both definitely screwed.

[deadfishisyeq]

I think in the qsmp universe, the true crime podcasts and stuff would go HARD

There would be a lot of conspiracies around random stuff to be honest

In my head, the plane was a big thing that people REALLY like to make conspiracies on. "Point Nemo Is An Alien Base?!?! 😱" Stuff like that

True crime podcasts and reddit LOVE cellbit "BRAZILIAN SERIAL KILLER AND CANNIBAL DISAPPEARS ON BOAT TRIP!!!" And tiktok loves him for a different reason "Cell Is Misunderstood And Here's Why (blatant misinformation)"

I like to think that Bagi WOULD correct misinformation about her brother online because it's just. A funny image to me. "No, no, he didn't say that, he actually said [much worse thing] 😒"

I think historians are constantly trying to figure out what he black shadowy figure documented for literally thousands of years is. There's a lot of debate over it I'd imagine

If we want to imagine Foolish as immortal we could say the same as we did about Bad. Historians are SO confused. Totems aren't alive so seeing things depicting a totem that Did Things sparked a lot of debate.

The 2b2t conspiracies would be crazy honestly. "This Anarchist Wasteland Holds GOVERNMENT SECRETS?!?!?! 😱😱😱"

I like to think that hybrids aren't that common. They exist but most hide it entirely and if they don't, are often seen as dangerous. (In my head, that's the reason that Jaiden hid her wings. She doesn't remember anything but she still has a sort of shame about being a hybrid and she never thought about Why)

Anyway hybrid conspiracy videos about the government trying to create super human soldiers with them :)

[femsolid]

I watched the movie Strange Darling tonight. Great rating on IMDB. Positive reviews all around. It was sexist propaganda à la Gone Girl. I'm sure it'll be called a feminist movie.

The story is about a serial killer hunting down his last victim. During the first part of the movie we see a young, skinny, blond woman being chased by the killer, a big man with a rifle. She's in pain and has lost an ear. The man is not hurt and every time he appears on screen, some big scary music plays, telling us "he's the killer!"

Then we see a flashback of their first encounter. They're on a date, drinking in his car, she gives him a lecture about how a one night stand can be a life or death situation for women, so women aren't prudes they are careful, but he can't understand that because he's a man. Unlike in real life, he patiently listens and doesn't object nor scream Not All Men. A little feminist lesson. She then tells him that her "kink" is to be strangled and beaten in bed... okayyyy what was the point of the feminist lesson exactly? He's flabbergasted and reluctantly agrees to indulge her. Because we all know it's women who want to be abused, men are just following our lead and have no sadistic bone in their bodies. She starts crying and tells him to stop during it, she tells him that just because she said yes at the start doesn't mean she can't say no later and he should respect that. He feels bad, and suddenly she starts laughing, she was just messing with him pretending to have boundaries and stuff, what a turn on! She toys with him, keeps inviting him to have sex and then says no at the last second because women are just twisted provocatrice, I guess. What a tease! She's giving him "mixed signals." Then she drugs him and tortures him, and we discover that she's the serial killer, and he's a cop! HA! You thought women were abused by men? You thought her little feminist lessons were sensible? You were wrong! Never trust a woman! Men can be victims, too! The reason we didn't see his injuries at the beginning of the movie was because she tortured him with a knife on his chest. See? Men have hidden scars. Don't assume they are the abusers! Since he's a cop, he has a secret gun and manages to escape her by shooting her ear off. She runs from him, and he chases her, and we're back to the beginning of the movie. He catches her eventually, handcuffs her and calls her a cunt.

She still manages to kill him, right as the police arrives because he called for backup. She puts her pants down and lays on the floor ass naked, crying, pretending that he tried to rape her, and she defended herself. False rape accusations, guys! Don't be fooled by women playing the victims! There are two police officers that arrive: a woman and a man. The woman is immediately sympathetic to the fake rape victim, something her male partner questions. She responds "it's obvious what happened", takes the handcuffs off the killer and helps her get up, while the male cop tells her to wait because things don't look right. Blinded by her female solidarity and her defence of rape victims, the stupid female cop doesn't follow the procedure. She tells the male cop that just because she has a vagina doesn't mean she's wrong, another little feminist lesson rendered voluntarily ridiculous by the fact that we all know she's gravely wrong and will likely get both of them killed. He tells her it has nothing to do with her vagina, he speaks from experience because he's older. Eventually the truth is revealed, the victim is the killer, the male police officer calls the killer a bitch. The killer lets the female officer go because she helped her, and kills the male.

The entire movie had a clear message that we all know too well by now: men are the real victims, don't trust women who report abuse, feminism is laughable. I mean, the propaganda wasn't even subtitle or anything. The killer spends a good portion of the movie in lingerie too. Instant classic. True cinema. Would you be surprised if I told you this movie was directed and written by a man?

[chaos-in-one]

I notice that when you say you support all disorders (especially if you clarify supporting disorders like npd & aspd or paraphilic disorders) people seem to assume a lot of things, anywhere ranging from that you don't think the abuse some specific person with said disorder perpetrated is real all the way to YOU must be one of the people with that disorder that is abusive/predator/etc.

So, in the name of clearing things up, here's what it ACTUALLY means and doesn't mean when someone says they support xyz disorder

It does NOT mean:

-Being fine with or supporting harmful actions anyone with the disorder does/ excusing it because of their disorder

-Dismissing the abuse or other harm anyone with the disorder has caused/ believing that all people with it are innocent and anyone talking about being hurt by someone with it is lying

-Being okay with the romanticization/glorification of or romanticizing/glorifying the disorder

-The person defending people with the disorder has it themselves. Just because YOU would not defend a group when their issues don't affect you doesn't mean no one will.

-Believing everyone with the disorder "deserves a second chance" or "can and will get better" including after they have harmed others (and therefore deserve no backlash for their actions), because of their disorder- generally when people say they support people with other disorders it's not assumed they believe this is true, as everyone with a disorder are different individuals and not all of them want to be helped, and disorders don't excuse hurting people, why would that change for these?

What it DOES mean:

-Believing all people deserve access to treatment for their disorder and to be able to get help for it without getting backlash for that

-Believing the disorder as a whole does not deserve to be stigmatized as it makes it less likely people with it will seek help or be willing to be open about their disorder with anyone, and therefore will not learn to cope with potentially harmful symptoms, making it more likely they will hurt themselves or others

-Believing the disorder as a whole should not be associated with or equated with horrible groups of people such as abusers, predators, rapists, serial killers, etc.

-Believing the disorder deserves to have easily accessible and accurate resources on it so those who cannot go to therapy for one reason or another, or who are questioning having the disorder, have things for them that will be helpful

-Believing people with the disorder deserve support and support groups to help them through their journey and healing just like anyone with any other disorder

Hope this helps <3

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart: Chapter 1 (Alastor x Reader)

Rated Adult for adult themes, triggering content and sexual content. I wouldn't say this is dead dove but it's dead dove adjacent. Series Trigger Warnings: Adultery, stalking, Sexual assault, Rape, smut of undetermined sorts, Domestic Violence, Time period accurate views on women and domestic violence and skin color, Alastor is a serial Killer, there's murder, there's angst, there's dark content.

Summary: Fading away in an abusive marriage, each day passes just the same as the last. Painful monotony eats at you until a pair of warm brown eyes sparks the idea that you could have something more. When a business deal between men sparks a torrid affair, how long can you keep things going before the fire either leaves you a burnt out shell or burns up everything around you?

And what becomes of the radio host who thought he was above the fickle fires of the heart when the match he strikes burns his hand instead? Can he possess what rightfully belongs to another man without leaving everything he has fought for in ashes?

Please be mindful. This story is dark and triggering at times. I've written portions to elicit an emotional reaction. As you should always do with dark content, even if you're not at risk of being triggered, please step back and take a breather when needed. The story will always be here when you get back. I am so tickled by the excitement this story has generated ahead of its release. We're looking at tentatively between 20 and 30 chapters (A note from future Kit: Ha! That was a cute prediction... I'm drafting chapter 37 rn and looking at 50...(Another note for future-er Kit...we're writing chapter 51 rn... we're not passing 60) posted once a week on Fridays.

Masterlist AO3 KoFi

Audio by Nyx Productions, Part 1, part 2

To the world, you appeared nothing more than a simple woman with a placid smile, gliding through town. The rhythmic click of your sensible black heels echoed against the sidewalk. To a trained eye, your gait could be categorized as slightly staggered, stiff, and just a little uneven, but to an untrained eye? There was nothing to see, but a modestly dressed woman, impeccably put together though just slightly out of fashion, performing the role of the ideal well-to-do wife with the precision of a clockwork automation. 

You could have taken a bus, but you would rather walk, or at least that was your story, but it wasn’t totally true. You tried to focus on the positive, a lesson your parents had instilled in you from an early age. If you couldn’t focus on the positive little bits of your life, what else was there?

It was nice to get out of the prison of your home. That is what you’d tell anyone that asked, though you wouldn’t call it a prison to anyone but yourself. They would smile and nod, like was polite and they’d make small talk about how mundane the life of a homemaker was and assure her that as soon as little ones landed her days would be filled with excitement and joy. 

What wouldn’t be said was how you wished she could brave the bus because your simple heels hurt your feet or how the idea of falling pregnant terrified you. You couldn’t, wouldn’t really, brave the bus because it would jostle you and you’d surely bump into someone or something. This time of day, the bus would be crowded and people would bump into you.

Today you couldn’t have that. 

Today you needed to protect yourself.

Stepping into the tailor shop you thanked the man on his way out, holding the door open for you on his way. With a sigh, you let the relief of an errand half done wash over you as you stepped up to the counter. Behind you, the bell above to door jingled, announcing another new arrival to the small shop.

Glancing over your shoulder, you hardly registered the tall man with tan skin and fluffy brown hair as he held the door open for his short blonde companion. An odd pair, you thought before turning back to the counter, showing the woman where the sleeve on your dress was torn, seam along the shoulder ripped and explaining your fabricated story of how it happened. 

She smiled at you with pity. This was injury to clothing she knew well though she would never be so bold as to talk about it. You were not the only woman in town to frequent the tailors with ripped shoulder seams or dark rust colored stains. These were the secrets she kept, a professional curtesy that was expected from her but always unsaid. Did the people of the city even realize the things she knew?

“It’ll be ready in a few days, Mrs. Latimer.” The shopkeeper was quick to take the dress from you, doing the work of holding it up and examining the rip. 

It was a small mercy, to not have to raise your arm much at all. The woman folded the dress neatly away and slipping it below the counter before motioning you aside while she wrote out your ticket. She was a master at multitasking, finishing your ticket as she greeted the newcomers who seemed less eager to step up to the counter than the shopkeeper was to serve them.

“What about that one?” the blonde woman whispered to her companion as you thanked the shop keeper as she handed you your ticket. The newcomers lingered, taking their time making their way to the counter. 

“Mimzy, we are here to pick up your dress,” the man’s rich voice sounded familiar but you couldn’t place it. Glancing at him, you tried to place where you could know him from but came up blank. That was just as well, Laurence didn’t let you really socialize much outside of your day to day tasks.

The blonde, Mimzy you had gathered her name was, wiggled her fingers to you in a wave as she caught you looking their way before directing her attention back to the man she was with. 

“Yes, yes. And you need the lining of your coat restitched,” She made a show of rolling her eyes, performing for an audience of only a handful, “You’re no fun sometimes.” 

“A dreadfully dull time, that’s me,” the man laughed lightly.

“I’m just saying,” Mimzy continued as you stepped toward the door, “You’re a good man. A decent man. You should find someone, is all. You don’t gotta settle down but you don’t gotta be alone all the time either.” 

You cringed, struggling to push open the heavy door, trying to not listen in on the pair’s clearly private conversation. You had been too eager when you pushed on it and your shoulder didn’t hold up to the stress well, pain flaring. It was easy enough to forget how painful your shoulder was in the moment. 

It wasn’t so bad, as long as you didn’t overdo it. Pushing open the heavy door yourself was clearly enough to count as overdoing it today. 

“Here, allow me.” The man pushed open the door for you, holding it open with a palm high along the edge of the door, giving you plenty of space to exit. 

You ducked under his arm with a mumbled word of thanks. It didn’t matter, he didn’t seem to really be listening for it anyway as he directed his attention back to his companion as he let the door begin to fall closed as soon as you were out of striking range of it.

“And why should I-” the rest of his words were lost behind the closing door. 

Alastor sat in the empty lounge, sipping his rye as Mimzy talked on and on while she changed. The dress surely would fit her just how she wanted, it was custom fitted but that didn’t stop her from putting on this whole production every time they got back from the seamstress. 

He knew the song and dance well enough, having known the woman for the past few years. She would change. He would complement. She would complain. He would reassure. She would blush and call him a flirt. He would move on with his day. 

“Oh!” Mimzy interrupted herself, earning a raised eyebrow from Alastor. “I forgot to tell you.”

“Tell me what, my dear?” 

She popped her head out from between the curtains, “I think I found myself a new juice supplier. You’re off the hook.”

“You think?” Alastor downed the rest of his drink in one smoothe gulp.

“Ya- Laurence’ll be able to take over soon and you’ll be off the hook again. I know you ain’t eager for that amount of risk. Told you it was only temporary.” 

Alastor hummed in acknowledgement as Mimzy went on and on about Laurence. He was tall, not as tall as Alastor, she assured him, but still tall and handsome. He tuned out her ramblings, mind instead turning back to the woman Mimzy had pointed out at the tailor shop. Such a timid little thing, fashion just outdated enough to stand out. 

Mimzy smacked his shoulder with a bar towel, leaning across the counter to look him in his eyes as she demanded his attention, “Yes?”

“You’re distracted,” she stated simply. 

“Just thinking about tomorrow’s broadcast.” Alastor answered simply, running his finger over the rim of the empty glass. “That’s all.” 

“Mhm,” she narrowed her eyes at him as he leaned back from her. “You sure you ain’t thinking about a pretty face?” 

“Haven’t seen any prettier faces than yours today.” 

Mimzy laughed loudly and teased, “Flirt! But I know it ain’t my face that’s got you distracted. Was it the doll at the shop? She was cute!” 

“She’s got a man,” Alastor countered. 

“And how the hell would you know from not speaking to her at all?” 

Alastor shrugged, “Just got a feeling about her.” 

He could tell Mimzy that she had that hollow look in her eyes that a woman got when she had a partner that got a bit too rough with her. Hell, he could point out the way she couldn’t manage to open the door to the shop, her shoulder weak from strained muscles. Did the man that called her his toss her around by the arm last night? Yank her a little too roughly?

He wouldn’t though because it didn’t matter. It wasn’t worth having Mimzy ask questions about his past or worse, assume the reason he had no partner of his own was due to any reason beyond him not desiring to be weighed down. 

“I bet a charming lad like yourself could sweep her out from under whatever man she’s caught up with anyway. Want another?” Mimzy pointed at the empty glass as melting ice settled in the bottom. 

“I’m good, Darling- It’s early yet.” 

Your feet were killing you as you made your way home. Still, you couldn’t help but take your time. If you were out, you were not home cleaning, cooking or waiting for your husband to return. While you were out, you could pretend to be your own person and it was alright, you had to keep up appearances as long as it was the right appearance. 

Lingering in front of the newsstand, you let your eyes run over the papers and magazines each with bold words on the covers, fighting for the eye’s attention. 

The headlines were polar opposites in many cases. Some celebrated the progress and change made in the 24 months since women had been granted the right to the vote. Others bemoaned the change and the influence women could now have on the world around them, pointing at any little thing as a sign of the doom this would spell for society as a whole. 

The idea made you laugh. Two years and while you did your best to learn, you hadn’t even come close to a polling center. Your husband wouldn’t allow it. Whatever change there may have been for better or for worse, you had no part of it. 

You knew which of the papers your loving husband would pick up and celebrate. It wasn’t the same ones you would but that didn’t matter. Women may have had the right to vote but you knew you were little more than an accessory in the world you lived in. 

Moving on with your walk home, you tried to force yourself to relax your shoulders and back. The pain was starting in from tensed muscles, telling you that while you hadn’t been watching your posture well enough, you had curled in on yourself. 

A deep breath in through your nose and out through your parted lips, slowly as you pulled your head up and your shoulders back, trying to ignore the way the muscles screamed in protest. You forced your spine straight and winced at the pain in your shoulder as you worked your fingers into the tense muscle, trying to convince it to relax. 

It would pain you for a few more days yet and if you were lucky, that would be it. You just needed to be good until it had a chance to heal. 

“Good Day, Mrs. Latimer.” A man you should have known tipped his hat at you in greeting, startling you out of the thoughts you hadn’t realized absorbed you as you walked slowly down the sidewalk. 

He was closer than you had expected when he snatched your attention, causing you to gasp and flinch back, shoulder twinging in pain. You didn’t like people in your space, at least not without warning. All it would take was someone saying you were getting too close to a man to your husband and hell would rain down on you regardless of the truth of it. 

Your shoulder banged into the light post behind you. You didn’t know it was there, having lost track of your surrounding as you walked in the haze of thoughts. A gasped yelp slipped from your lips before you could stop it.

Appearances. You had to keep up appearances. Swallow the pain, don’t let anyone know. Don’t let anyone see. 

“You alright?” The man asked as he steadied you, large hand gripping the outside of your shoulder only making the pain flair more. 

Shrugging out from under his grip, you painted on a false smile as you willed the tears in your eyes back. 

“I’m fine,” You looked away as you saw pity cross the man’s face. How much did he see? Surely not more than what was normal, what was acceptable?

“You be careful ma’am,” the man nodded wisely to you. “Didn’t you hear? There’s a serial killer running around. Probably not good for a lady to be out alone till they catch the bastard- pardon my language.” 

“Oh my,” you tried to play the unsteadiness on your feet as being from the terrifying news. Would be believe it? Did be believe it? “I’ll be sure to be mindful, thank you.” 

You didn’t need his pity but what you needed even less of was him seeing any real reason to pity you. Forcing your hand from your shoulder, you tried to ignore the pain, to will it away. 

There was nothing to see here. Just Mrs. Latimer making her way home from the tailor shop. There were no bruises. No torn dresses. Nothing wrong. 

Life was perfectly normal, a storybook where you were married into a family of means with your family having so very little to offer. 

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