#like these mostly aren't every day stuff

[cerbreus]

baking never feels more like science to me than when i'm trying to cobble together an intricate multi step recipe together from several different recipes and tutorials online because the recipe I'm imagining doesn't exist....

[seventh-district]

again and again i find myself lamenting that audio roleplay isn't taken more seriously by some people. like yeah, they often have a romantic element, and by nature they usually directly involve/address the listener- and i totally get that those things aren't to everyone's taste. no art or entertainment is universally appealing, and that's okay! but.. it still makes me a lil sad that the "cringe" reputation of asmr/audio rp precedes it. there's a whole lot of talent and creativity being poured into these audios by so many people that i feel goes unrecognized and/or disrespected simply due to the medium that the stories are being told through.

[skrunksthatwunk]

why the fuck did i write about birds this fucking sucks. i just found out birds only sleep for a few minutes at a time, hundreds of times a day. do you know what this is going to do to my structure? the logistics of their road trip? this is already like three days late and i've been fighting for my life to get A Plot Like Any Plot That Makes Sense out and now the birds fucking sleep for 5 minutes at a time.

[burinazar]

It's a bit funny that to parts of my circles I'm 'the fandom one'/'the fanfic one'/'the shipping one' as the person they know most prominently into such things

because as much as i love writing my fics and shipping my ships my interest in both of those things is, I think, very narrow and specific compared to most people who are into them? due to my habits being like. very particular

[invisiblyvisiblejay]

the girl im dating doesn't know what the omegaverse is which is like lowkey insane to me. she's like. the first person ive been close to who has never really been involved in fandom or like. twitter culture which is just really interesting sometimes like for example i forget that the omegaverse isn't common knowledge. or like. the way i use the label asexual is sort of Technically correct but is very confusing to most people outside of Knows A Lot About Specific Identities culture because even though it's technically about sexual attraction and not really associated with someone's willingness to have sex the general public (or. the general public who has a working idea of what asexual means) understands it more to be about wanting or not wanting to have sex. and i don't use the label correctly anyways lol i don't particularly use any of my labels in a way that would actually convey what i mean to a normal person. but the general point is wow all of my close friends up to this point. every single one of them. have been involved in fandom culture

[mojavebluez]

Bleed - the salesman x fem!reader

Chapter 2

"What can I say?" His mouth curls into a soulless smile. "I like watching girls bleed."

summary - days after your first encounter, the two of you meet again, exactly as promised. This time, he’s eager for you to get to know him better. You play a game of two truths and a lie - with a twist: for every lie you miss, he gets to make you bleed.

tags - knifeplay, age gap, praise kink, degradation kink, blood as lube, bdsm, non-con, sadomasochism, sub!reader, dom!salesman, creampie, unprotected sex

a/n - thanks for the love on part 1! This is one of my first times writing nsfw stuff so I’m so grateful for the positive feedback :))

Series masterlist

4.3k words

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The days leading up to Friday were painfully slow. Your mind was plagued by thoughts of him, mostly denial about the entire situation. You were conflicted. The memory of him, so tall and utterly imposing - it sometimes made your heart skip, sometimes made it sink. You got the feeling you were only seeing a small part of him, a sample of his entire character. It filled you with dread. And excitement.

Friday came and there was no sign of him. You spent your whole day twiddling your thumbs and glancing out windows, searching for any sign of him. Occasionally, you would see a man in a suit walking past, and frantically stand up to see if it was him. But it was never him. You had memorised the curve of his back after nights of reminiscing, the exact slope of his jaw. It was ironic, really: with this information you could easily go to the police and explain the situation. You never did, though, and he must have known you wouldn't. That card - incredibly incriminating evidence, really - was just another symbol of the power he held over you.

On the way home, the reality of the situation becomes very real indeed. If you ran away, would he know where to find you? If you stayed at a friend's place for the night, or even in a hotel, would he seek you out? No. You aren't the sort of person to back out of something. Not now you're so close to finding out who this man really is.

You knock on the door of your apartment, expecting one of your parents to let you in. Usually, it stays locked during the day. But when you bring your hand to the door, it opens at your touch. You glance around. Then, step inside. The entire apartment is dark, every shutter closed and every light off. You don't turn them on, too afraid of what you might find if you do. Carefully, you search the place, trying to make your footsteps as silent as possible. But there's no sign of your parents.

Finally, you open your mouth to call their names. From behind, a hand claps over your face, muffling your voice. Your eyes widen in realisation, and you grab at the hand, attempting to pull it off. You recognise the smell of him. Something musky and expensive, though slightly metallic. The smell brings you to your senses, and your adrenaline kicks in. You scream against his hand, scratching at his fingers and kicking out your legs in an attempt to break free from his hold. He doesn't waver, just pulls another arm around you, holding you even firmer in place than before.

Eventually, you grow tired, and decide to do something you don't really want to. You bite his hand as hard as you can. He makes a pained noise and rips his hand away, staggering backwards. You jump forward, away from his hold, then turn to face him. He holds the wrist of his injured hand, studying it with a frustrated expression. When he looks up at you, eyes burning, fear sinks in.

You step backwards, anticipating his response. "I'm- I'm sorry, I didn't know-"

"Now, now," he shakes his head, a false smile on his face, "what did you do that for, sweetheart?"

You blink frantically, assessing your options. The only way out is the door, and in order to escape you would have to pass him, but he could grab you with ease. After a moment, he decides for you. He moves towards you, gripping your upper arm and wrenching your body toward him. His fingers easily curl around your entire arm. Your head rushes with regret. An assault like that can't go unpunished with him. You know it.

He pulls you through your own apartment and into the dining room, an action which indicates he already knows his way around. He pulls out a chair at the head of the table and pushes you into it. He wastes no time. Already set on the table are coils of binding; he grabs them and instantly starts tying your ankles. He then pulls your arms behind you with painful force, binding your wrists.

"I was really hoping we wouldn't have to do this," he says bitterly whilst tying the ropes.

"How did you get in here?" You ask him, tears thick in your throat. "Where are my parents?"

"Questions I can answer later. Be patient," he stands back once he finishes, and dusts off his hands like an artist that has just finished a project.

"Please-" you begin to say, but he cuts you off with a palm raised in the air. A ring of purple, angry teeth marks are imbedded in his skin.

"You talk far too much. Do I have to keep you quiet?" He lowers his hand carefully.

You press your lips together and shake your head frantically. That would only make the situation worse. He smiles approvingly, then lowers himself to his haunches, studying you from head to toe in a clinical manner. You feel scrutinised under his cold gaze.

"Need I remind you," he stands up, "you called me. I come here out of my own kindness, and this is how I am repaid?" He raises his hand again, showing the teeth marks. Then, he tuts and shakes his head as though he is greatly disappointed.

"I said I'm sorry," you watch him carefully, fighting back tears. His level voice seems more terrifying to you than any sort of outright aggression. When he is in control, he knows just how to make you scream.

He leans back against the wall and folds his arms. "I had something else planned for this little rendezvous, but I'm not sure it will suffice after that outburst. Something else, I think."

You watch him ponder. Everything about him is still a mystery to you. Why did he choose you? There are so many other girls. You scan him from head to toe, almost sizing him up. He wears a different suit this time: dark navy and paired with a black tie. His shoes are perfectly polished, and his hair is slicked back into its usual style. Memories of him rush past, flushed and sweating after practically violating you. That was someone else. You wonder if you will meet that man again tonight.

He seems to decide on something. "Well, I know so much about you, but you know nothing about me. It seems unfair, don't you think?"

"Everything about this seems unfair," you say bitterly, pulling at your ropes for effect.

"You're right, of course. But that's just the dynamic you'll have to get used to, sweetheart," his lips curl as he says the word. Nothing about him is sweet.

You eye him as he moves toward you and pulls out a chair. He sets it opposite you, closer than he was sitting last time. You instinctively shrink backwards as he lowers himself into the chair, leaning his elbows on his knees so he can be level with your eyes. "I have a proposition."

"What is it?" You say quietly, searching his eyes. Nothing.

"A game," his eye sparkles.

"Another one?" You whisper, breaking eye contact.

"Don't worry," he leans backwards, smirking, "no guns involved this time."

"How lucky for me," you say through gritted teeth.

"You're a very lucky girl," he smiles. "Something else - you probably played it in school."

You struggled to think of a school game that involved being tied down to a chair. "Peekaboo?"

"Funny," he doesn't laugh, "no, not that." He holds up two hands. On one hand, he raises his index finger, and on the other, he raises two more fingers. "Any guesses?"

You watch the gesture, thinking. Then it comes to you. "Two truths and a lie?"

His mouth breaks into a wide smile. "Good girl."

"But that's not fair," you say, voice raised, "I don't know anything about you! How am I supposed to win?"

"I'll make it easy for you," he clasps his hands together like a games-master on a TV show. "Round one, are you ready?"

You nod.

"Your parents are dead. Your parents are alive. Or your parents are in this apartment, right now."

Your eyes fly open. The mention of them was completely unexpected. You feel your heart rate pick up as you think of an answer. You so desperately want them to be alive - but would he even say it if they were? You decide to go for the most simple option: after all, you searched the whole place and saw no sign of them.

"You're lying. They aren't in this apartment." You say stoically, meeting his eyes.

He smirks. "Correct. So, dead or alive?"

"That's not how you play. I already found the lie-"

He darts out a hand and grips your thigh, making you cry out. "In case you haven't noticed," he squeezes your leg, "I don't play by the rules. Answer me."

Tears make your vision blurry. "They're alive," you choke, nearly sobbing, "that's the lie."

He pauses for a moment, not letting go of your thigh. "Incorrect."

"So they are alive? Oh-"

"You were wrong. You know what that means?" He dips a hand into his blazer pocket, pulling something out. You squint into the darkness, then freeze when you realise what it is.

"Oh god, no-" your whole body begins to tremble.

"Shh," he brings the blade towards your inner thigh, the metal reflecting your smooth skin, "if you try to win, this won't have to happen."

"I didn't know! You tricked me!" You whimper as he pushes back the material of your skirt and brings the blade to your thigh. There was no way for you to win that round, and he knows it. Once again, he uses you as a tool to show his own deception. He can’t be trusted.

"I'm shocked at how cruel you think I am," he says with fake surprise.

He presses the blade to your skin and you scream a bloodcurdling noise. Red-hot pain seeps from your thigh as he draws a deep line in your skin. You thrash around in the chair, but it only makes the pain worse. He makes a tutting noise, the noise an adult might make when a child falls and grazes their knee. When he raises the blade again, you look down to see a dripping line, like a crimson tally mark. One.

Your chest heaves as you try to console the pain. He pulls a cloth from his breast pocket and wipes the knife with one swipe. You meet his eyes and find that familiar mist clouding them again. He's finally hurt you now, and the cracks are beginning to show.

"Now you know the punishment for failure," he sets the blade on the table, raising his chin with a superior expression.

"I'm sorry- it hurts-" the words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them. You are only aware of the pain flooding your thigh. How deep did he go?

"I've barely touched you," he tilts his head, moving your thigh to assess the injury. "You're so fragile."

You just stare at him, chewing your lip in an attempt to distract from the pain.

He smirks. "Round two, are you ready?"

You hold eye contact, hoping he can see the utter hatred in your eyes. Like it would make any difference. He takes your silence as a sign to continue, and leans back, thinking. "I work as a messenger. I work in an office. Or I am a mass murderer. Which is the lie?" He says it with an amused smirk on his face, as though he already knows what you are going to pick.

You console yourself and try to think of an answer. Judging by his smug expression, he said must have said the last one as a joke - though, you wouldn't put it past him. "The last one. It's a lie."

His smile falls. His expression turns dark. "Wrong. Again."

Realisation falls on you like a ton of bricks. Slowly, as if it pains him to do so, he grabs the knife off the table. You scream again, tears falling too fast for you to stop them. You pull at the ropes, arching your entire body to escape his grasp, managing to shuffle the chair a few inches. It doesn't help. He grabs the bottom of the chair and wrenches you forwards with one hand, close enough that his knee is planted firmly between your legs.

"The more you scream, the deeper I go." He says, lip curling and his voice husky. You watch helplessly as he brings the blade back down, holding your legs back with his knee. The knife, now stained with the product of your failure, meets your skin. The pain is easier to handle this time, though still just as awful as before. Another thick, seeping line beside the last. Two marks. Two losses.

You hang your head, body heaving with sobs. He makes that same pitying noise, using one finger to lift your chin. You watch him through your eyelashes as he brings the blade to his mouth, running his tongue along the flat edge. Your blood stains his mouth and drips from his tongue. He makes a small, pleased noise, then sets the blade back down, now clean.

Unmistakable arousal clouds his eyes. You're really giving him a show this time. He leans back in his chair, adjusting his trousers. "You're on a bit of a losing streak, aren't you?" His voice is breathy as he rakes his eyes from your wounds to your face, savouring every inch.

"What is it, huh?" You speak up, voice broken. "What's your angle? Why are you doing this?" Desperation seeps into your words and you search his face for any sign of remorse.

"What can I say?" His mouth curls into a soulless smile. "I like watching girls bleed."

Your mouth falls open. Hopelessness overwhelms you. There it is. The confession. If he doesn't kill you tonight, he will leave you a bloody mess on this chair, alone and stained and scarred.

The game resumes for several rounds more. Each loss is marked with another line, and you feel yourself growing more distant with every tally mark. His dick pushes harder against his trousers every time he makes you bleed or scream, reminding you of your last meeting. He held out that time, however, and seemed satisfied just by making you cum. But not this time. You knew something was different.

By your fifth loss, he strikes a final line across your thigh, and you feel yourself getting faint. Blood pools on the seat of your chair, dripping from your leg so thickly you can barely distinguish the individual lines. His breath picks up, mouth open wide as you scream once more, leg trembling.

"Fuck it," he grunts. Suddenly, he rips off his blazer and throws it onto the table. It slides away to the other end, and you watch him, terrified at every movement he makes and his plan for you.

It's not what you expect. He bends down, ripping away the binding at your ankles so roughly that it hurts. Then, he moves behind you and tears off the rope at your wrists, too. You freeze for a moment, registering your freedom. You attempt to move, but wince when the pain in your leg overwhelms you. Instead, you rub your wrists, marvelling at the ring of purple bruises on each arm.

He moves back toward his chair, breath fast and heavy, then grabs your waist. He lifts you with ease. You cry out as he hooks two hands beneath your knees and pulls your legs around his torso. Scared that you might fall, you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on. He falls back into his chair and you realise the purpose of his hold on you. Your legs straddle his hips, and blood flows from your thigh to stain the fabric of his trousers.

"Fuck," he swear again, looking down at the mess. He releases his hold on you to unbutton his trousers, ripping down his zip quicker than you can see. You whimper, knowing what is to come. The pressure of your leg on his makes the pain worse and the room begins to spin.

You watch helplessly, loosening your grasp on him. His cock springs from his trousers, already hard and dripping with precum. Veins span from the base to his swollen tip. "Look what you've done," he tuts, watching the blood from your leg stain his hands. "Look at the mess you've made."

You sob quietly and watch as he runs a hand down his cock, painting it with your blood. You make a strangled noise when he swipes a finger over the deep slashes on your thigh. He sucks in his breath sharply. "I need to fuck you." He mumbles it so quietly you almost don't hear.

Your head falls back as he lifts you up, lining up his cock with your entrance. He moves your panties aside with one finger, already wet with your own arousal. More and more blood drips onto him and he grunts, gasping slightly as he eases himself inside you. You cry out at the size of him. He's bigger than the gun. Much bigger. He's barely inside you, but the blood on his cock makes it easier for him to slip inside.

"You're so tight," he grunts, gripping your waist with one hand and your thigh with the other. He's barely halfway inside you before he pulls out and rams himself back into you, using the hand on your waist to lift you up. You have no choice but to take him. Your walls tighten around him, and you squeeze your legs together, trying your hardest to fight the discomfort.

Tears fall from your eyes. Your senses are heightened in your last moments of clarity - you feel like you might faint. Somehow, the blood keeps pouring, turning his suit trousers black.

"Don't you dare fucking pass out," he says, gritting his teeth. He squeezes your thigh and you cry out, the pain too much to bear. Your body feels weak.

Still, he fucks you harder, slamming his cock inside you with every thrust. Somehow he goes deeper until you're sure he must be hitting some vital organ. You've never been fucked like this before. You almost forget the pain he just caused you as you buck your hips against him, desperate to take him even deeper.

"Such a whore. You want it, huh?" He squeezes your ass, lifting you so that you bounce on his lap. Pleasure builds in you, a jarring contrast to the utter agony you felt almost moments ago.

His head falls back hangs off the chair as he thrusts in and out of you. You lift a hand to his face, desperate for something to hold onto, not noticing your fingers are still marked with your own blood. He sees and grips your wrist, sticking a finger into his mouth. He sucks them clean.

"You taste even better than you look," he smirks. He can't hold the expression for long. His eyes roll back slightly when you move your hips over him, making wide circles. You press a hand to his chest, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, and he lets you keep your grip there, too distracted by the hypnotic movements of your hips. You notice that blood drips from the corner of his mouth, instinctively, you lean in and swipe it off with your tongue. He chuckles darkly.

"You're forgetting yourself," he says, slowing his pace. You make a desperate whimper, raising your hips again to continue the rhythm.

"I'm going to need more motivation than that," he mumbles, bringing his mouth to your collarbone. You slow down, unsure of his intentions.

Still inside you, he parts his lips and sucks at the skin of your neck. He applies intense pressure, sending shocks through your body and you cry out, dropping your head over his shoulder.

"That's it," he says, laughing breathily into your ear.

He doesn't stop despite the fact you wince away from him. He plants firm, harsh marks along your neck, leaving a dark line of bruises to your collarbone. Every time you make a noise, he presses harder, until you're biting your lip just to suppress your whimpers. Then, once he's satisfied, he plants two hands on each thigh, ramming his cock back into you. He grunts loudly with every thrust.

He's rougher this time. The flow of blood slows, but still makes his cock glisten red as he pumps in and out of you. The sound of your skin slapping together fills the room, along with his grunts and your faint whimpers. His increase in pace makes the warmth in your stomach more intense, and you feel yourself on the brink of release. You arch your back, gripping onto his shoulder to keep yourself steady.

He notices you nearing your orgasm and uses his last burst of energy to make you ride him even harder. His hips buck up and down until his cock fills you entirely. You grip onto his tie, finally reaching your climax. You nearly scream as you cum with him still inside you, intense warmth and euphoria rushing through your entire body. He does the same, gasping for breath as he cums inside you, still bouncing your ass on his lap whilst you ride it out.

Your entire body goes limp. You collapse over him, taking in lungfuls of air. The euphoria is quickly replaced by exhaustion and pain. Your entire leg feels sore despite the blood no longer flowing as freely as it did before. He slows to a stop, then pulls his cock out of you. It's still stained red and dripping with his cum, and he grunts at the sight of your cunt, glistening with your own blood and his cum. He has complete control of you now.

"You're fucking crazy," he says, panting. He swipes two fingers over the wounds on your thigh, making you wince as he wipes the last of the blood away. He leans back for a moment as he comes down from his high, pressing a hand to his forehead. Strands of black hair fall over his eyes, damp with sweat.

"Let's take care of these cuts, shall we?" He says, too gently for it to be genuine. He lifts you up, straddling each leg on his waist. He lowers you onto the table, letting your legs dangle over the edge.

He makes a gesture that suggests he will be right back, and leaves the room in the direction of your bathroom. His clear knowledge of the layout of your home is concerning, but you can't find the energy to care. You close your eyes, letting your head hang, trying to suppress the dull thudding pain in your leg.

He returns after a few minutes, holding a medical kit and looking a lot more composed. The lusting look in his eyes has disappeared, replaced by emptiness, and his tie - which you managed to almost pull off earlier - is centred again. Blood still spatters his shirt, and his hair glistens as though he has dampened it and swept it back. You almost feel flattered that he tries to look so presentable for you.

He moves before you, lowering onto one knee. He kneels between your legs and parts your legs gently. Too gently. You wonder for a moment if you're dreaming. If you passed out back there and this was just some fantasy you invented to console yourself. But no. He opens the box and lifts out some alcohol wipes. Absently, you lay a hand on his head, stirring the dark waves. He doesn't look up. Just brings a wipe to your wounds, wiping away the blood. It stings so badly that you grip his hair as tightly as you can. You feel the urge to cry again.

Before you even register it, he places a large plaster over the wounds and pats the site gently, as if congratulating you. He stands up and plants a soft kiss on your forehead. You don't even meet his eyes. Your vision is cloudy. Exhaustion threatens to overwhelm you, and you're dangerously close to passing out altogether.

You have a faint memory of him lifting you and carrying you to your bedroom. You recall grabbing his arm after he lowered you onto your bed. Then asking, "when will I see you again?"

You couldn't make out his face. His voice was low and gentle. "Call me."

Then he left.

—

You woke up to the sound of the front door opening. Jolting out of bed, you rush to the hallway, hoping against hope. It's your parents. They greet you, smiling, and ask how your day was. You can barely find the words to respond. Your entire body aches, and you nurse the wounds at your neck and wrists to find they're covered by a hoodie you don't remember wearing.

They apologise for leaving and ask if you got their message. You say no. Then you leave in the direction of the dining room to confirm some faint suspicion. The room is completely normal. No blood. No ropes. No knife. Not even a chair is out of place. You press a hand to your forehead.

Later that night, you stare at the plaster on your thigh, the only evidence that the entire situation happened. You peel it back and your head rushes with adrenaline. Five slashes. Still there. You collapse back onto your bed, ignoring the pain that is almost a comfort by now - at least it proves the whole thing was, in fact, real.

Your phone rings. Every normal, human part of you fights back the urge to pick up. But, of course, you do.

The human part of you is long gone by now.

[eldritch-spouse]

You are running naked in the Jungle, searching frantically.

You look and you see another human, the first one you've seen in months and you run towards them.

“Thank God! Listen, we need to get out of here immediately, it's dangerous! Do you know the way out? Back to civilization?”

You feel a tentacle around your ankles

[Months? Couldn't be me, I'd just die. Let's downsize that to a week. Fem reader.]

TW: Reader has a self-loathing inner monologue; Reader is in a bad place mentally; Dubcon to full consent.

It was a stupid idea.

You knew that when you started it. So did everyone that tried to convince you otherwise. But common sense isn't something that could have stopped someone like you, someone who was ill enough to think taking a break from life in the middle of buttfuck nowhere would work out.

You didn't even have any sort of experience in this type of thing. Neither did you seek any kind of useful tips.

You just wanted to escape.

And you did, literally, into a forested nightmare that you got lost in not even hours after your arrival.

You just wish you could find your car, you just wish you could find somewhere warm and comforting to sleep in.

It's been days. Probably a week by now. Your stuff all disappeared, somehow. You swear you're not tripping, it all just vanished! Your phone, your bag, your keys...

Your back hurts, the nights are cold and humid and you're sure you're getting sick by now. Clean water would be a godsend, you've been drinking and cleaning yourself with some questionable-looking sources for a while. Not to mention you can't feed yourself properly, and you certainly don't know how to hunt.

Not that there's much to hunt. Every time you think you hear a peep, there's a brush of foliage and silence dominates seconds later.

You're going to die.

A horrifying reminder that has your chest pounding painfully and sweat glistening on your forehead.

You don't want to die.

But the modern human wasn't born for the wilderness, and you can only stand being clothed for a little longer before the sensation of being dirty has you clawing the skin off your body.

It was a fucking miracle that you managed to get a small fire going.

Finally.

You can heat up that fish you caught earlier.

If it's still good. Is... This is safe to eat, right?

You lean to sniff at the leaf-wrapped catch.

Eh. You can stomach it...

God, you're starving.

One thing that's been bugging you for a while is how... Deserted this whole place feels.

You're no wildlife expert, but isn't this kind of location supposed to be brimming with animals? Why is it that, everywhere you go, it's mostly just you and insects bumbling around?

Shouldn't there be some mammals here? Some birds? Maybe a squirrel or a snake... Aren't there predators you'd have to worry about in this kind of scenario?

Ironically, being alone makes you feel even more stressed out than if you were constantly surrounded by wild animals.

You huddle closer to the small fire.

Alone.

But always so on edge.

Always getting that tingling feeling crawling up your spine.

The one that screams- Look, look behind you! You're in danger!

The phantom feeling of something hovering behind your neck, goosebumps that hardly fade every time you do turn around to check and find nothing.

Is this a normal amount of paranoia for your situation? Is this your brain trying to cope with the fact that you haven't seen much wildlife so far?

Or is there something watching you from beyond the trees?

Something stalking.

A persistence predator, coming and going, to check on its latest prey.

Oh, and what a catch you are. Big and juicy compared to the things that probably roam this place -Roamed, more like...

Have you wandered into the territory of something that'll inevitably snap its jaws around your neck?

...

Just eat the fucking fish already.

Food.

Focus on the present.

The smell starts to hit your nose. Salt, oh what you wouldn't do for some simple salt. How do people get salt?

You're glad you got some berries along the way too, because this fish is probably going to taste like ass. You're sure they aren't poisonous or anything of the sort. If they are, then you've been eating them for the past few days so honestly you could keel over at any moment.

You'll see.

Once the fish has roasted enough where it's likely safe to consume, you peel it open messily and start munching indiscriminately, ravenous.

It's... Well, it's sustenance.

It's about the most nutritious thing you've eaten since you got here.

This survival thing is harder than the fake actors on TV make it seem.

A sudden crack of a branch has you pausing mid-chew.

You truly feel like a deer when your head snaps up and you stand very still to listen for a follow-up.

Nothing.

Tired eyes strain, trying to make sense of a darkened blob in the distance.

Huh.

What the fuck is that thing?

Tall.

Two legs...

Arms?!

Shit- Could it be?!

That can't be possible, someone else roaming around this maddening forest. Is that a sign that you're somehow getting closer to civilization? That you're making it out by sheer luck? What cosmic force could be on your side this time? Maybe they just live here, like some kind of off-grid retired agent- Okay, you've been watching too many movies.

Without stopping to think twice about frankly important concerns regarding this sudden development, you place the cooked fish down on the leaf it was previously wrapped in and start scooting forward towards the silhouette you saw.

That build can only belong to a man. Well, you assume as much anyway. It's hard to spot more from here, with the foliage covering their form.

" H- Hey... "

You haven't used your voice in a hot minute. Some part of you almost doesn't recognize it. A healthy dose of paranoia stops you from brushing aside the obstacles and facing this person.

But you need to at least try, right?

The worst that can happen is that you really are hallucinating for some reason or another.

With a surge of bravery, but mostly desperation, you push all the branches and greenery away to run towards this person, opening your mouth to greet them, to beg for help, ask for new clothes or just something cooked!

" Hey! Please, I need your... Help? "

Nothing.

There's no one.

But that doesn't make sense, you clearly saw a silhouette, someone was there! You didn't even have to run that far, how could it be that you already lost sight of them? That they could get away so silently?

No. Everything's wrong.

Before you know it, your vision is blurring and your face heats as tears stain your cheeks.

Why... Why would your mind fuck with you like this? Going from a shining shred of hope to complete despair in seconds has you screaming inside.

Why is this happening to you?

Are you really about to die in a stupid fucking patch of nothing just because you can't deal with the stress in your life like a normal person? Just because you made one bad decision when everything was weighing heavy on your conscience? Are you really so incompetent and so pointless as a human that this is how your story ends?

Anger and regret blind you to everything, fingers course through your knotted hair as you sob and tug, having no way to calm yourself and nothing to unleash your tension onto.

The moment you try to stomp your foot in a petulant act, you find it rooted to the ground. It takes a couple more insistent tugs upward for you to realize that something is coiled around it, keeping it firmly planted.

The train wreck of emotions and bile of self-hating thoughts takes a backseat, goosebumps pricking your skin from tip of the head to your very toes. The first thing you think of is some kind of snake, eyes bulging behind digits.

You look down frantically, shaking, but in spite of the sky being clear, all you see is this reddish mass, with neither end nor beginning. What... What the fuck is it?!

The thing tightens around your ankle, starting to slide up the length of your right leg, up to your knee. And immediately, you panic, kicking and shrieking, achieving absolutely nothing and getting promptly tugged to the ground.

Yeah.

Maybe freaking out isn't the best bet for your survival here.

Twigs and dirt get on your face, it takes some coughing and swiping to finally clear your field of view. But honestly...

You almost wish you hadn't.

Curved over your prone figure, staring down, is a creature you have never seen before.

Bipedal and quite large, like the silhouette you had glimpsed before, but so very far from human. The reddish coloration spanning the length of that bizarre body makes him -Because, again, you can only assume that is a male- Look as if he's made of flesh quickly molded together to imitate the figure of a human. What initially made you think he was skinless soon turns into the realization that there was never room for skin anyway.

Because his body is quite literally comprised of what you can only call tentacles. Tendrils and coiling tissue that clings and organizes itself in the vague lie of an organism like yours.

From elbows to fingers and knees to feet, the tendrils become a lot more discernable, coiling and uncoiling while he watches curiously. The thing around your leg is one of said tendrils, coming from the mass forming his own. Along the length of its torso, sharp-toothed mouths form and shift, almost seeming to have a mind of their own as they scent the air and snap at nothing.

That head has got to be the most striking feature. It's an amalgamation of tentacles all wrapped around each other, leaving room for an incredibly sharp golden eye to fix you in place. This thing looks like it crawled out of a sleeping ocean, like the roots and vines of an ancient jungle came together to form a totally new an extension of themselves. He looks like he's been sculped from the guts of others yet also composed in a way your mind could never hope to grasp.

Somewhere between trying to determine if you're dealing with an animal or a person, you reach the conclusion that an animal wouldn't stare you down for this long.

An animal would take a couple of seconds to determine if you're prey or predator and act accordingly. He would have snapped your neck or suffocated you like a boa constrictor with those tentacles by now.

And yet, he just stares.

Like you're the strangest creature to ever grace the woods this thing probably calls a home. You're as freaky to him as he is to you, enough so that he seems out of depth on how to proceed.

You stare back.

This has got to be the monster that you saw back there. Watching you. Now that you think about it, maybe this was the reason you'd always have a tingling sensation reminding you that you're not alone. Because he was there all that time, stalking.

Plenty were the moments he could have dug your grave until now. It's strange that he hasn't. Because surely, he's seen how you're failing to adapt to this location. Every step you take, you're stumbling and getting pricked, hungry, thirsty, afraid, disoriented- You're a fish out of water and he could have ended that misery a long time ago.

Odd.

Neither of you move. It blinks, vertically. You blink too.

And then, it makes this chitter.

Wet, like a gargle, followed by some kind of rumbling as more of those tendrils that form his limbs unwind, explore.

They reach down towards your frame when he squats, and you stifle the urge to scream at the sight of them getting nearer. Because who knows what he's going to do...

They poke and prod, grabbing lightly at parts of you, wet yet not quite. Two coil around your arms, then elbows, then wrists.

Other strays squirm around your sides, unintentionally triggering a squirming reflex as you muffle helpless laughter.

The monster seems intrigued by the noise anyway, making his own vocalizations as if attempting to communicate with you.

Abruptly, there's a blur of movement and you're yanked into the air by the arms, shrieking in fear and pain.

Not for long, because more of his freaky, flowing appendages wind around your middlesection, hips and knees, pulling in different directions.

In seconds, mere moments, this being has you suspended in the air.

Immediately, your panicked mind is going places where it absolutely shouldn't.

He seems more relaxed now that you're restrained, that gaze becomes softer, clouded with curiosity. To be monitoring you this long, you don't doubt he has his own questions and intrigue regarding how you work.

When that hulking red mass walks towards you, anxiety prevents your mouth from staying shut.

" H- Hi? "

A sound not too different from the peep of a skittish bird.

One that causes him to cock his head in a brief pause, processing the noise, and returning it with his own light gurgle. One of the mouths on his figure gets the pitch right down to a T.

Soon, he's lacing a hand through your hair, grabbing it, manipulating the protrusion and stroking your head inquisitively. He squeezes and almost scritches at your scalp, reminding you of the way someone acts when spotting a particularly cute cat. Yes, hair is likely a mystery to this creature, you can kind of understand why it'd linger here.

But that doesn't change the fact that you're being patted like a pet by a strange, unknowable creature- And that's morbidly hilarious.

When your cheeks start to puff with laughter, his attention finally deviates. You can feel the tendrils that form every digit when he splays them across your face, tracing your eyebrows, playing with the tip of your nose and even trying to poke into your ears- Something he halts when you jerk away rapidly each time.

When he starts trying to put a digit in your mouth, he's a lot more careful, aware that you have teeth and can bite, even if yours are quite small and blunt compared to the ones he sports. He succeeds, because your strength is nothing compared to that of a monster of his size and nature. The digit he dips into your mouth rests there placidly for a couple of moments.

You aren't sure what to do. Biting is not a bright idea when you know this creature can probably easily dismember you in this position. He himself looks slightly lost, as if he put his finger in your mouth out of impulse mostly. A false sense of security begets your own curiosity.

Perhaps you're just insane already -That probably says a lot about your overall mental fortitude- But seeing another living being that behaves and looks vaguely like what you might call a person makes you feel calmer than you have since the beginning of all this. You know it's an irrational feeling, that you're not any safer than before, but it's a thread of comfort you desperately cling to.

And it's what allows you to look this thing in the eye while you experimentally lick his bizarre tendril-clump of a finger.

It was only a little flick.

But naturally, he felt it.

The monster rumbles something incomprehensible at you, leaning closer still to cast a shadow upon your front. In this position, he looms between your clothed legs, though seems mostly unaware of the lurid position he's got you in, fixated on your mouth.

The sensation of his digit unfolding into two separate thin tentacles is bizarre. You picture a human finger splitting in two and curse your brain. Said tentacles poke and wriggle, capturing your tongue between themselves.

Yes, that's probably the part of your body that most closely resembles the mass of prehensile tissue composing his own.

The touch has you drooling, saliva trying to break down something probably few to no humans have ever come in contact with. He tastes slimy yet slightly rugged in some areas, not something you'd write home about.

Reflex has your poor muscle squirming to be freed, but that only causes him to tighten the grasp upon it. And, surprisingly, to let out this humid noise that sounds far too much like a groan of delight for you to interpret it as anything else.

There's a pause from your part as you wonder, incredulously, if this thing just got turned on.

There's not much time to ponder, because that digit very quickly slips out, and as he examines the sheen of drool on it, something else steadily approaches your mouth.

Ah, you've graduated from finger to proper tentacle mouthfucking. Commendable.

Making light of the situation is about the least recommended course of action, but after what you've endured so far, you think you deserve to be a little, tiny bit, insane.

Apparently convinced that you won't try to harm him, the crimson monster wiggles that darkened appendage and taps it against your lips, seeming very interested in how this is unfolding.

You should not have opened your mouth.

But you did.

And he visibly brightened up.

The tendril wedges itself in without much hesitation, resting upon your tongue. Much thicker than his digit, your jaw has no choice but to stretch, and your lips wrap around it in a rather phallic, dirty image. You barely realize you're making an effort not to scrape your teeth on the appendage. Perhaps because the sensation of it is a tad spongy and remarkably similar to that of any standard manhood.

And, as if to give reason to your lewd comparison, he shudders at the warmth of your wet mouth, the thing pulsing within you.

While he mostly simply lets the extremity sit there motionlessly, you do explore, trying to lick around it out of morbid curiosity. He watches you avidly, but apparently, what really gets to this bizarre entity is feeling you suck down the saliva that pools in your cheeks, swallowing.

Suction. Because of course he'd enjoy that. What man doesn't?

That begs the question, is the thing in your mouth part of his genitals?

Again, thinking is a privilege you can't afford when that tentacle starts sliding down your throat experimentally. It doesn't take him long to trigger your gag reflex, a violent kick and curve forward from your part causing him to pull back quickly. But he continues to test the waters afterwards, probably seeking the sensation of your stressed throat muscles tightening around him.

Instinct takes over.

Because even if he seems truly out of his depth maneuvering a human body, he's curious and, if you had to guess, attracted to you. Enough to put sensitive things in your mouth, to fetishize that part of you. Hormones make things work, which means he soon realizes he can make repetitive back and forth motions to get friction.

And so, just like that, you're getting fucked in the mouth, inside the woods, by an eldritch abomination of a monster you might find in a cheaply made H. P Lovecraft rip-off.

It should not arouse you.

It should horrify you.

... But it doesn't.

Those reactions are missing, leaving you befuddled at your own enjoyment of the situation. Are you just happy to have someone around? Has it truly been so long since you received this type of attention that you don't mind if it comes from an entity of unknown origin who is clearly not civilized? Are you just a freak actively discovering new sides of your sexuality?

Who knows anymore.

All you know is that there's a wet noise ringing every time he thrusts that slimy thing into your mouth, that he's resorted to gripping your hips hard while making intense eye contact, that he growls and gurgles whenever you have enough control to suck at him. If you had to guess, it's his unwavering, lewd and fascinated observation of your face and lips that has you likely forming a wet spot on your poor pants.

You think your wanton squirming is subtle, but reality proves otherwise when the monster starts getting distracted, one of those pupils shifting to the rhythmic movement of your legs as you shamelessly seek friction. At first, he seems irritated, as if questioning why you'd want to leave when you'd been so docile so far.

Then it appears to click.

You can almost see it in his face, in spite of how inhuman it is, that eureka moment.

And the tendril in your mouth slows down to a crawl.

He starts pawing and pulling at your pants, but not aimlessly. Not at all. He's studied you, he knows what he's looking for, the button and the zipper. You pale a few shades, the only way this thing could know how to take pants off is if it saw you doing it, if it saw you relieving yourself or trying to bathe to avoid infections.

Just how many embarrassing moments did he catch?

Too many, probably.

Still, you're pleasantly surprised to see him so easily remove the garment, fluidly shifting the positions of his tendrils to avoid tangling the fabric in them. Your pants come off without a single blemish, aside from those they sustained previously. Is he removing them so carefully because he thinks you need them to survive or is he just being considerate?

Your underwear is treated the same way, he spares no extra thought to it, and only appears to pause once your pussy is exposed.

Usually, you'd feel self-conscious in this position. There's not a lot you can do to properly groom yourself without the simple privilege of soap and whatnot... But what does it matter here? As far as you know, for this monster, pussy is pussy regardless of it being shaved or bush-heavy, "perfumed" or au naturel.

And a soaked, needy hole is hard for a lonesome monster to ignore.

He looms closer to your womanhood, watching closely, gargling a string of vocalizations you still can't interpret, until another tentacle slithers into scene and slaps against your cunt.

No, literally.

The thing whips from mound to the bottom of your entrance, swiping up and down in a pace that has you seeing stars every time it flicks your clitoris and catches on a clenching entrance. To say your legs kick out occasionally from the intensity of the stimulus is no exaggeration, but he's quick to adapt his hold so you have no way of wiggling aside.

You don't know why it's doing that, but frankly, you don't care much, it just feels good. A racing heart and a heaving chest have you tipping your head back to moan against the thing stuffed in your mouth. You realize, a little belatedly, that he was probably mostly just trying to lube that appendage with your own arousal.

Your plump pussy still tingles when the assault stops on all sides, you strain to watch what he's doing, observing the monster evaluate the sheen now coating that wriggling extremity.

He's less careful than before now, a product of excitement no doubt, parking the somewhat thicker length at your entrance and pushing in tentatively for only a couple of moments before ramming a decent chunk of that tendril into your cunt.

Eyes bulging, you spit out a beastial sound that startles the monster, panting as you try to get used to the sudden stretch. He's reached a depth within you no one else has found before, and the pressure is such so that you've been robbed of the ability to speak.

He shouldn't be that far in you.

You may come from extremely distinct backgrounds, but some things are vastly universal, like the facial expression of pain. Which, credit where credit is due, he picks up on relatively fast. The moment the entity removes a good chunk of its length, you sigh and sag in momentous relief. That's a lot better. You still feel as if you're being stuffed to the brim, but there's no longer that stabbing pain.

He understands what he did wrong after a couple of still moments and some bizarre palping sensation from your insides.

Much like the previous tendril in your mouth, this one too starts to thrust back and forth, with more care now, experimenting with differing speeds and curling in various ways as he gets closer and closer to watch how you react.

You're no researcher, but maybe if the mounting pleasure wasn't swimming to your head and making it very very hard to think coherently right now, you'd be fascinated with the way this monster is being so thorough in his examination of you, wanting to learn what makes you tick in every way, what has you choking out noises and rolling your eyes.

So intense is the heat rushing through your body from his repeated, filthy motions that you hardly notice anything happening until his all-seeing eye is almost glued to your face. The tips of the tentacles that make up his rather disturbing head unfurl and appear to drip downwards, clinging to the sides of your face so he can fix it in place, observe every detail as soon as you part your mouth to moan and gasp and babble nonsense. Each noise you make is eagerly eaten up, he tries to mimic the same motions that make you squeal as if begging for more of them.

There's no time to warn or even shriek about it, your orgasm barrels its way down your body with the intensity of a bullet, curving you in its tentacles, a breathless "oh" being all you can offer as your abdominal muscles contract and you squeeze the life out of the tendril inside you, making a mess that drips to the ground between you two.

It may not have been easy to spot in that pleasured trance, but the monster halted to watch it all unfold, mesmerized. Retracting to test the nature of the new slick now grossly painting you.

By the time you're done riding the high of your climax, you've been shifted again, this time a little lower, and you find the entity staring down to the spot where your core meets something that wasn't there before.

You'll admit you didn't have the time to properly process the full extent of his appearance when he first appeared before your stunned self. Now you're unsure if this monster had some kind of pelvic pouch, or if he merely unfolded two more tendrils out of his mass where one would expect a dick to be.

The two appendages wriggle and roll impatiently, seeking each other before parting in search of heat, of wetness, slapping against your belly and thighs. They may not look like it, but you can only guess those are his cocks. And he's considering something quietly.

It's hard to tell what he's thinking right now, the communication barrier doesn't help. Maybe he worries that the length of them will hurt you. Perhaps he wonders if he can impregnate you this way. It could just be that he thinks perhaps mating with a strange human is not a good idea, but the way those things are spreading a coat of thick precum on your skin says otherwise.

Instead of letting his stall further, a small hand reaches down to feather over the tip of one of those members, immediately getting captured and pulled at in the process. His figure rattles, hips offering a useless piston before his head snaps back up to watch you.

" ... Try putting one in. "

You murmur, knowing damn well it can't understand a single word.

He looks back down, peels back to spread your cuntlips invitingly, then seems to make up his mind, allowing the very tips of both squirming cocks to connect with your entrance. They've found warmth and they're desperate to worm in, stretching and flirting with your walls.

You grin incredulously, already trying to guess what it'll feel like, gasping as soon as he leans forward and allows more exploration. The first hint of a burn arrives as he rumbles in delight-

But a branch snaps in the distance.

And the moment is ruined because he halts immediately, your cry of frustration ignored entirely.

His body twists in an unnatural way so he can glance behind, inhuman eye seeing through greenery and undoubtedly spotting something off.

In the tense quiet that has now settled, even you pick up on the faraway mumbles of what must be people.

Eyes widening, snapping out of this episode, you begin to squirm earnestly now, wanting to see them, to find a way back, to go home!

Finally, people came looking for you!

The monster snaps back around, making you realize how truly fucked you are in these circumstances. Something flashes in that gaze, a hint of contempt, of hurt maybe.

Something too human to fall upon such a nightmarish face.

You can only scream as more tendrils dart in lightening speeds to cocoon you inside them. That single noise being all that escapes before you're forcibly gagged and physically thrown over the monster's shoulder.

His molding body swings from tree to tree in a blur of movement, taking you God knows where...

And leaving your saviors in the dust.

[p0lyn3sian]

Can I plz get a child reader?

A child reader with undiagnosed autism x multi slasher/whatever you want to write fandom

YESSS OFFFCCC!!!! I only added slashers that would be great with kids!

I also had to search up about undiagnosed autism, so this was maybe or not accurate, so I'm really sorry about that!! Also your age would be 6 or 7 or whichever you want! Also, this was kind of off topic for some of these characters, so I hope it's okay!

Slashers: Carrie, Hewitts & Sawyers (Mama Luda, Hoyt, Monty, Thomas, Drayton, Nubbins, Chop-Top, & Bubba), Jason, Hannibal & Will, Sinclair Brothers (Bo, Vincent, & Lester), Norman, & Chucky & Tiffany!!

Slashers w/ a child reader that has undiagnosed autism!

Carrie:

Carrie understands what stuff you hate and what stuff you love/like! She looks out for you while you play on the playground, and she knows now that you don't like to socialize and you would rather play by yourself.

Carrie knew that you hated loud things or sounds, because you would cover your ears from those noises. Sometimes Carrie would call out your name, and you wouldn't respond to her so she'll rub your back or lightly tap your back. Carrie would then walk to the kitchen with you and make your favorite food!

Hewitt family & Sawyer family:

Living with a cannibal family is sometimes scary for you and okay. Most times the whole family is busy doing their own things, and sometimes they'll argue about things.. Mama Luda knows that you cover your ears if someone is too loud, so she'll make everyone shut up, or she'll hit every single one of them (She did it a few times with her wooden broom, which left red marks on some of them 💀.)

Except for Thomas and Bubba, these two would try and make you laugh or happy! Nubbins and Chop-top would mostly likely bother you, because apparently these two have nothing else to do, and just bother you without a care in the world. You'll sometimes be with Monty and his little dog, just only petting the dog if you're bored or playing with his little dog too! You'll thank Drayton for cooking his delicious chili every time he cooks it! Hoyt is something else, he'll yell at you for this and that has never even done before. Until, Mama Luda will start beating him and make him do something else instead of screaming at you. You love hanging out with Mama Luda, because she loves to give you hugs and kisses on the cheeks and forehead!

Jason:

Jason would see you do stuff repeatedly with your hands or spinning around in circles, etc. Jason would try and calm you down with your meltdowns, he'll try hugging you, making your favorite food, or reading your favorite book to you! When it's camping day at camp crystal lake, Jason would always keep a look out of where you are. Jason would see that you don't really interact with people, just small talks here and there but nothing more than that. Jason is not worried about that at all with you not socializing with other kids your age or people that are older than you!

Jason gets really worried that you don't answer him, like you're staring at him while he's signing your name, so Jason would tap on you gently to see if your trance would stop. It did and you would kinda see Jason crying, because of how close he is and he would give you a big hug, while you will hear sniffles from him. Jason also knows what things and/or food that you love and what you hate!

Hannibal & Will:

Hannibal and Will know about the undiagnosed autism you have! Hannibal has seen your reactions with different types of smell and even food too! Will also see that you would avoid eye contact when Will would ask you things! So, these two would try and do things to help with your undiagnosed autism! For example, Will would buy you coloring pages and water color pages too! Hannibal would try and find you other calming activities, like toys that aren't loud for your ears or toys that can be really boring over time!

Hannibal and Will have put you homeschooled, because they have a feeling that if you are in a public school with your last name being the same as Hannibal's and if the FBI would find out about you, they'll take you away which they wouldn't want at all. There's been some difficulties with you not responding to your name, Will or Hannibal would tap you softly and make you do something else and would do the work later for your undiagnosed autism! Hannibal and Will would soothe you from your meltdowns you would have and make you a warm cup of tea that is great for your taste buds!

Sinclair Brothers:

You would always hangout with Vincent, because it's quiet and you love seeing Vincent do his work! (Vincent would make a spinning circle with his index finger, to tell you to turn your whole body around, because some of his work is not for you to see.) You love hanging out with Lester and Jonesy, because Lester would always try and make you laugh whenever you feel down, or Jonesy licking your face which also makes you laugh too! You still kinda think Bo is scary, but Bo would try and get things from people that are interesting or something in the house they owned when they were little.

Bo would give you Vincent's coloring pages with coloring stuff he has found in their toy boxes! He would also give you toys that are interesting for you too! So, little by little time hanging out with Bo, you would sometimes go with him and people would try and kidnap you even though they're trying to get you out of that scary place. Until, Bo would hunt them down with your cries screaming for Bo to help you from them. All three brothers would try and make time to play board games with you, or cook food for you too!

Norman:

Norman knows a lot of things about undiagnosed autism! He has a book or two that's about autism and other stuff too! So, Norman would examine what food you hate and food that you love to eat! Also, smells that would make you go into the other room. Norman would buy toys or things that are calming for you and that you wouldn't get bored while Norman is working!

Norman sometimes calls out your name for something or to eat, and he would see that you aren't reacting to your name being called. So, he would tap on you gently to come do some stuff or eat! Norman would also soothe you from your meltdowns that you have, he would hug you for a little bit until you feel better, or do things that you love!

Chucky & Tiffany:

Chucky and Tiffany would try anything to calm you down from your meltdowns! They would make you laugh, or do something that you love! Tiffany would give you kisses on your cheeks and/or forehead, she'll also give you a hug if you want hugs too! You would smile at Chucky to see if he smiles at you too, and Chucky will give his smile, because he sees people not smiling back at you which makes you not look at them until they smile at you!

Tiffany knows what food you love and hate, even smells too! She would always tell her husband what things to buy for you and other stuff too! If you're eating a snack at the table, Tiffany and Chucky would always sit with you and talk with you so that you wouldn't have a sad face! Chucky and Tiffany would always make time for you, and take you out somewhere instead of you staying in the house! They would take you to a fun place and a restaurant that you'll definitely love!

[aayakashii]

I received a super cute ask requesting a hc of the Jabberwock boys getting a plushie from the MC, but tumblr effed up my post for some reason?? So I'm posting again!

ANON THAT WAS SUCH A CUTE REQUEST AND I LOVED WRITING IT!!! ⸜(*ˊᗜˋ*)⸝ Thank you for sending it!! I based each plushie on the animal that's been assigned to their chibis, I hope that's okay!

How Jabberwock boys react after receiving a cute little plushie from MC

Otonashi Towa – bee plushie

Towa is a little bit confused because plushies aren't a huge part of his life and he never really played much with any.

But receiving anything from you makes him very happy because you're one of his favorite people, so he loves it regardless!!

He loved getting a little chubby bee because bees like flowers and he likes flowers so!! They're basically the same!

Towa likes his new little friend so much that he keeps it on him 24/7, even when he's frolicking in the Jabberwock meadows.

Which in turn makes the plushie all damp and dirty, but please don't be upset!

He tries giving it a bath every now and then, but having fun outside is one of the things he loves the most...

So the fact that he takes your gift with him every single time just means he treasures it a lot!!

He keeps on putting dandelions on the bee though, so keeping it clean is a hard task. But it's all because it remembers him of you! He has no regrets.

Speaking of regrets, be ready to get a teary-eyed Towa handing you the plushie, asking you to sew it back together after some bad encounter with an anomaly from time to time...

He will take a lot more care next time!! He promises!

Shiranami Ren – shark plushie

At first, he's gonna look at you like you grew three heads all of a sudden.

Why would you give him a cute gift like that? Do you want something from him???? Also does he look like someone who likes plushies cmon MC-

Yes. Yes, he does love plushies. And he is absolutely in love with your gift.

Ren will mostly keep his new friend inside his room, away from prying eyes (Haru's eyes, he means).

But after a while, he might stuff it inside his backpack whenever he has an exam or something hard he gotta do, because he considers it his moral support (also it is adorable and looking at cute things is great for your health-)

Mostly, however, they'll hang out together inside his room. Ren will hug it while playing one of his mobile games, and he swears the plushie is giving him a little bit more luck when he pulls the gacha...

After a while, Ren might begrudgingly ask you if you know how to sew little clothes, because he saw online how some people buy tons of clothes for their nuis and he kinda wants to do the same...

Don't laugh though! It took him a whole lot of courage to come ask this of you! He'll kick you out of his guild if you laugh!

Please sew clothes for his shark friend. Ren wants little cosplays of his favorite games and you're the only one who gets him.

Sagara Haru – kangaroo plushie

Oh no MC. YOU ARE GIVING HIM A NEW CHILD?????

"Why didn't you tell me you were expecting our kid?! I will take full responsibility, let's get married and take care of him together and–"

"Haru. That's literally just a plushie I sewed for you."

"Haha, I know!! I'm just joking, I'm just joking!! You ARE the other parent, though."

Needless to say, Haru absolutely loves it to death, and he WILL keep making jokes like that forever, even if you two are just friends and never even smooched.

He also takes it everywhere, but mostly because Peekaboo loved the plushie just as much as him and is convinced he is a big brother.

Like father, like son...

Peekaboo insists Haru puts the little plushie right beside him on his baby wrap, just the head peeking out so it can "breathe and watch everything" properly.

With all the hard work Haru does, the plushie also gets a bit dirty, but he cleans it thoroughly almost everyday! Can't have his youngest son dirty, right?

Haru lets Peekaboo keep it during the day, but during the night, he takes it to bed with him, on the rare occasions in which he sleeps for more than 3 hours

He loves cuddling his plushie son and might ask you someday to make more friends for it!

Of course, he does that by joking about how you two are ready to expand the family, and how he would like to have more kids. He's just a silly goofy guy like that.

[formulawolff]

time off — t.w.

pairing -> sick toto x reader

word count -> 1.1k

warnings -> toto is sick, lots of hurt + comfort, slight cursing, mostly fluffy stuff

a/n -> i am finally working through fics that are lined up in the garage. i believe this one was a request from an anon! i hope you guys enjoy! <3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

the blaring of an alarm pulls you from your slumber.

stirring, you wrinkle your nose, fighting a yawn. there's a swath of comforter to your left, the fabric rising and falling. carefully, you nudge the bundle, your voice thick with exhaustion.

"toto, it's time to get up love."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

there's a groan that rises from the comforter, the figure rolling over. he wraps an arm around your frame, bringing you in close.

"f-five more minutes."

you can't help but notice that his voice is deeper. significantly deeper. there's a bit of a rasp to it, almost as if it pained him to speak. he nuzzles his head into your shoulder, coughing ever so slightly.

arching your brow, you purse your lips. this sort of behavior in the morning was unlike toto. he was a man who structured his mornings around a strict routine. each day, without fail, he woke up to his alarm, getting out of bed with ease. typically, you were the one who struggled to get up, as he had to lure you with breakfast.

shifting your body, you turn over, a tender hand connecting with his cheek. almost instantly, you feel the heat radiating off his skin.

"are you feeling okay?"

an eye opens, forming a slit. he exhales, shaking his head, "i'm fine. just want a few more minutes of sleep. that's all."

"are you sure?" your brow furrows, "you feel warm."

letting out a grunt, toto snuggles closer to you, sniffling, "i was just underneath the covers."

almost instantly, it clicked.

he wasn't feeling well. he must have came down with something. after all, it was the start of winter. everyone was spreading around a menagerie of illnesses and viruses. it was just customary with the change of the seasons. due to the nature of his work, he came into close contact with dozens upon dozens of individuals nearly every day.

it could have been anyone who was sick, but he was around them long enough to contract something. what it was, you weren't quite sure. hopefully it wasn't anything too serious.

pressing kiss to his temple, you engulf him in your arms, resting your chin on top of his head. you can feel a smile form against your chest, the team principal murmuring words you can't quite decipher. there were more than likely in german, his native tongue.

"you probably need to get going soon," you murmur, grateful for the coziness of the morning cuddles, "don't you have a presentation to look over?

"mmm," he hums, "probably."

"so why aren't you up yet?"

"not feeling well," he grumbles, "i think one of the interns gave me something."

"those damn interns," a giggle bubbles up in your throat, "what are you going to do with 'em?"

"send a letter to their university filing a complaint," a hoarse chuckle flows from his lips, "i should really get up, though. i do need to look over that presentation."

"maybe you should take the day off," your hand delves into his hair, playing with the soft brunette locks, "you should really get some more rest. i could make you some tea and some soup later on, if you're feeling up to it."

"you make it so damn difficult to leave," he counters, squeezing you in his embrace, "i just can't stay away from that pretty face."

"then why haven't you called in yet?"

"you know why i haven't."

reaching over to the nightstand, you pick up his phone, "i could always do it for you."

raising his head, toto tilts his chin upward, his gaze twinkling with amusement, "i would pay good money to watch that. why don't you go on then, love. call in for me?"

"i will," the words are barely a whisper, "you know i would do anything for you, right?"

licking his lips, the team principal readjusts, scooting up so that your faces were eye-level. he leans in, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. fingers grasp your chin, pulling you in even further.

you would more than likely get sick as well, but that was a risk you were more than willing to take.

especially when he was so fucking irresistible, admiring you with those beautiful mocha depths. his lashes flutter as your lips collide with his, a rumble brewing in his chest as your tongue trails along his lower lip.

"c-careful schatzi, i don't want to infect you."

"you can do more than infect me," fingers tug at his roots, "infect me, kiss me, fuck-"

"maybe i do need to take that time off then," his tone is brimmed with lust, and you can't help but feel a firmness pressing against your inner thigh.

"go ahead baby," you cock your head, batting your lashes, "call in. for me."

before you know it, he's out of the bed and on his feet, pecking your forehead, "i'll be right back. give me five minutes, love."

as he strolls out, pressing his phone to your ear, you wait until you hear the steps dissipate. cautiously, you slink out of the space, tiptoeing down the stairs.

your poor, pathetic man.

all riled up over a few kisses.

toto wolff taps his screen, relief rippling as he makes his way back toward the room. he was able to successfully call in, just take a day off and fight whatever illness this was. he could stay with his love, all cuddled up and drunk off bliss.

however, when he pokes his head into the bedroom, his heart skips a beat.

you weren’t there.

yet, a scent wafts into his nostrils. one that he knew all too well.

the aroma of tea. and something else he couldn’t quite place his finger on.

as toto clambers down the stairs, he makes a right, entering the kitchen. once his eyes fall on you, his knees buckle.

you’re at the stove, brow knit with concentration as you flip something in a skillet. there’s a cup of tea waiting for him at the island, steam billowing from the mug. padding over to you, he peers over your shoulder, curious to see what was in the skillet.

“oh hi,” you flinch at first, yet relax as his arms wrap around your waist, “i figured i’d make you a nice breakfast so that you could take some medication.”

so that’s what you were up to.

the team principal presses a swift peck to your temple, “thank you, schatzi. i adore you.”

“of course! i love you.”

“and i love you,” toto’s breath is warm as it fans against your earlobe, the words thready with need as he continues.

“we’re going to make this day off worthwhile. okay schatzi? once we’re finished here, you’re mine.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[obeymematches]

👕Wearing their clothes👕

Part 1

GN MC, sfw, brothers only

Lucifer:

You casually walk by in his button up shirt; just to wear something while you go back to your own room. Unfortunately he spilled hot coffee on you, obviously you needed to change clothes! For those wondering, it was just an accident and you'll probably never see him so embarassed again in your life, so take this moment in!! He is too focused on his embarassment to say anything to you, but he finds you pretty cute in his shirt!

It's not your size MC, but I must admit you look quite adorable.

Mammon:

(I just imagine him going into a coma- ) You put on his T-shirt just to mess with him, obviously not telling him about it, just showing up in his shirt. Okay he blushes and stares, afraid to say anything in particular. Why you must be so casual about it too?? Is this a prank??? Doesn't mind if you keep his stuff as long as you wear them every now and then. It shows off that you are his and his only!!

Wait MC ya should put on this one with the stripes next- I wanna see ya in it!!

Leviathan:

His room was a bit too cold for you but what you are doing right now should be illegal, honestly. He loves to see his aqua sweater on you but you are pretty much lost inside it. His unique take on the situation is that he doesn't want you to take it off but it's also his favourite jumper so pls don't keep it for long MC-

I-I... I don't mind if you wear my clothes MC!!! You- ughhhh.... you look cute!!

Satan:

Now what is going on? He stepped into his room and you greeted him in his shirt- honestly the fact that you just thought and organized his wardrobe (which was a mess of course; despite his best efforts he can only keep it organized for 3 days max) didn't sit right with him.... but why did you have to put on his clothes? He is definitely not the one to judge you about your preferences, but teal looks... interesting on you as well. Maybe that's the point you were trying to make? Well in that case you might be onto something-

I didn's ask you to do this for me but.... I have to admit it needed to be done.

Asmodeus:

If you missed a piece for your outfit you were sure to find it in his room! He keeps stealing your clothes too so at this point you decided it is the best for the both of you to just swap stuff anytime you need to. You were looking at yourself in the mirror when he stepped in. Absolutely loves the idea of you wearing whatever he has!!!

Gosh MC you look soooo adorable!!!! Have you tried this look with that scarf over there? Hang on, I have this hat right here-

Beelzebub:

Okay he mostly wears tanks with hoddies so you are not having a fashion show this time. His clothes are extremely comfy though & once you get your hands on them you don't really want to take them off. His scent is all over them too!!! When he sees you he just blushes and pulls you into a warm embrace; you belong together and that's the only way to be!

MC you are so cute! You can keep it if you want to.

Belphie:

You sometimes just put on his hoodie as you lay together, possibly on your phones. It is regular occasion, he doesn't really mind as he likes the scent you leave on them when you give it back to him. He likes to put his hand in the pocket of his hoodie on you while you cuddle. He also likes to put the hood on your head, zip and unzip it if it's a zipper kind.

Hmmmm you smell so nice MC... aren't you getting sleepy? This is so comfortable right now...

[revscarecrow]

Hi Rev! That time is upon us once again, do you have any tips for first time protesters?

1. Wear nice walking shoes cause you are going to be out there for a bit and your feet will hurt.

2. Have a game plan. Are you down to get physical? Are you able to be arrested? No shame in saying no. I'm not much for physical altercations with the police myself. But you need to make that decision before your blood starts boiling. The energy is infectious and will lead you to make mob mentality decisions. Remember what you decided and don't go beyond that limit.

3. Weather appropriate precautions. If it's hot bring sun screen and water if it's cold bring a coat. It's simple but most of what I did as a street medic was giving people water or blankets.

4. Have a number you will call if you get arrested. Memorize it or write it on your arm in sharpie. Mom dad lawyer friend whatever. Someone for if things go tits up.

5. Cops don't like being filmed doing messed up stuff but they will do it. Violence comes after dark. The news won't stand around all day so after some b roll and an interview or two they will go home. Then they can interview the cops in the morning where they can say a couple of bad actors caused a scene and they were arrested but largely the protest was peaceful (or was a riot if you aren't white). This will be an easy way for them to get away with kicking your ass. This happens every time a protest goes long.

6. Go with a friend. It just feels good to have someone you know watching out for you.

7. Have an escape plan and park your car a bit away from the protest. They like to camp out the local parking areas to catch protestors who evaded the police cordon.

8. Password lock your phone. Don't use biometrics. A password lock keeps the cops out when they arrest you. They can't force you to give that information.

9. Cops don't like lefties. If you are not a right wing loser they do not give a shit about your rights.

10. Most of this shit will not come up for your first protest but I want to prepare you for the wildest shit so you are ready for it when it happens.

11. People will yell at your from cars etc. Fuck em. People will say your protest doesn't matter. Fuck em.

12. Your protest isn't just about trying to get the government to do whatever. It's mostly about making connections. It would be rad if the government caves but it's not likely until your protest reaches a critical mass. If your numbers can be ignored they will be.

13. For your first time protest just go have fun. Don't stay out late or get physical just do a simple version. Do the chanting and make friends. Like with any group there will be creeps so be on the look out for that but most of those people are gonna be cool people.

14. Thank you. We need people who are out there doing the things. Make connections we've gotten so distant and it makes us easier to fuck with.

[themultifanshipper]

“Yeah, vampires exist blah blah blah... but surely there aren't any in formula 1 right? How could someone possibly keep that a secret?”

Quite easily actually, George thought, as he listened to you ramble on during your lunch break between practice sessions.

Part of my Halloween event!

Warnings: driver!reader, slight angst? smut, blood, also periods, period blood (but nothing too disgusting dw), aphrodisiac substance so usual issues around consent, usual vampire stuff, biting

“Like, 20 people out of 8 billion, the probability of a driver being one is so thin. And we're mostly all friends, I think we'd know if one of our friends was drinking blood every other day.”

‘It's once a month actually’ is what George wanted to say.

Instead he settled on “I don't know, I think something like that can be pretty private. I don't expect people to tell me they're vampires, it's their decision if they want people to know or not”

You hummed thoughtfully around your mouthful of salad.

George thought that was the end of it.

Unfortunately...

“I think it should be mandatory. Like imagine not knowing someone you work with is one. Some people could be really uncomfortable working with someone like that.”

George's jaw ticked.

“Are you uncomfortable, then?” His clipped tone and obvious irritation went completely over your head.

“No” you laughed “Of course not! I just think people deserve to know if they're frequenting one, you know?”

“No they don't. Nobody is entitled to know about your personal life, no matter how much you know each other”

George was getting angry now, and he felt the slight prod of his canine against his lip. Shit.

“Damn okay. I didn't know you were so defensive about vampires!”

“I'm the head of the driver's union. It's my job to protect the rights of any vampires that may or may not be on the grid!”

“I... okay” You didn't quite know what to respond to that. You'd never seen an outburst like that from the usually cool-headed Mercedes driver.

“Sorry... I didn't mean to upset you. I’ll shut up about it”

George didn't answer, instead nodding and stuffing his mouth full of food to avoid saying something he'd regret.

A few weeks later, that conversation was replaying in your mind as you took in what the fuck had just happened.

You were standing in George's driver's room, clutching his ‘protein shake’ as he shuffled around, chatting away to you, not noticing the panic slowly invading your body.

You were supposed to be in your respective cars in an hour, but you were completely rooted to the spot.

His bottle had been sitting on the table and you took a sip to see what flavour he'd picked for today.

What hit your tongue however was definitely not a protein drink.

It was thick, and tasted like dirty pennies, and was vaguely warm.

It was blood. There was no way it could be anything else, and that could only mean one thing...

You hadn't even registered that George had stopped speaking until you heard a gasp and your eyes snapped to his.

He was staring intently at the bottle in you hand.

He also started panicking when you didn't say anything for what felt like several minutes.

“George...” your voice was barely above a whisper.

His eyes were wide and full of fear.

You gulped. “Why are you drinking blood?”

The question sounded stupid even to your own ears, but you needed to hear him say it.

He took a tentative step towards you, and when you didn't move, he slowly walked over, taking the bottle from you and setting back down on the table.

You eyed him up and down, not believing that your closest friend could possibly have hidden this from you of all people.

You stared at each other with tears in your eyes. His were of fear, yours were of betrayal.

“I'm sorry for not telling you” is all he said, and your knees buckled, you suddenly felt faint.

He caught you and manoeuvred you into a chair, knelt between your legs and hugged your middle.

“I'm so sorry” he repeated, his now free flowing tears soaking into your suit.

Your eyes fell on the bottle of what you now knew was blood and you sighed.

“Who's blood is that?” you asked.

He looked up at you, confused that that was all you had to say, but he supposed you deserved to know what you'd just drank.

“It's not from a human” he said simply.

“What's it from then?”

He cocked his head and made a face at you.

“You sure you really want to know?”

You thought for a second, then shook your head. It was probably better that you didn’t know.

“How long have you... you know”

He blinked up at you “Almost 10 years...”

Your jaw dropped. 10 fucking years?!

 “And how often do you- wait does the team know?” You suddenly felt bewilderment at the fact that most of the team had to be aware of this fact even though you weren't.

“Some of them know... And I feed once month. It's easy to track because that's when-” he stuttered and went very red all of a sudden.

“Uh... it's a full moon so that's when my need is at its peak and the smell of blood is strongest” he quickly explained, the blush not leaving his cheeks.

But that went over your head completely.

“Why animals?” you asked, suddenly full of questions.

He swallowed and took your hands in his.

“Because it's easier to get my hands on”

You frowned. “Does it taste the same?”

He laughed bitterly and stood up, stretching his legs. “No, no it certainly does not”

“Why don't you get human blood then?”

He avoided your gaze when he answered.

“Human blood isn't exactly available to buy without questions being asked”

That's not what you meant and he knew it.

“I'm sure there's someone on the team that would be willing to-“

“I'm not subjecting anyone from the team to that, there are side effects that would make it... a bad idea” he sighed.

He was saved from any further questioning by a knock on the door, signalling that you needed to be in the car in 10 minutes, so you left it a that and walked out of the room with a million more questions in your mind.

Unsurprisingly, both of you did terribly in the race.

A month later, it was a full moon once again, and you were getting terrible cramps, and you found yourself in George's hotel room, asking if he had any painkillers.

“I'm on my period” you explained as George looked through his bag for some pills.

“Yeah I know” he murmured sympathetically, finding one and handing it over to you “Here you go”

But you just stared at him and he realised what he'd said.

“What do you mean you know? You have some kind of sixth sense do you?”

But as you said it your brain clicked.

“Wait... can you smell me when I'm on my...“ now you thought about it, it was obvious. Of course he could smell periods.

He had heightened senses and could probably smell blood a mile away.

 Your mind was going a million miles an hour and it stopped on one singular fact.

It had been exactly a month.

It was a full moon, you'd seen George drinking blood earlier. And you knew your period always came around the full moon.

“George William Russell... have you been tracking your feeding thanks to my fucking period?!”

He looked at you guiltily. “Yeah...”

“Oh my god” you had known George since you were both kids, which meant that he'd known every single time you'd had a period in your life.

“Fucking hell George that's... weird”

“Sorry” he mumbled sheepishly, “I'll change the date if you want”

“No, it's- it's fine” a shiver ran up your spine. This was profoundly weird for you, and it took you a few months after that to get used to the fact that probably every vampire that may or may not be in the paddock could smell you during that time of the month. God help you.

One time though. It only took one person in the team to fall ill that week and forget to pre order the blood for George.

George waved it off, saying it was  fine and he could wait until after the double header to go home and feed as much as he needed.

But his body had been on the exact same schedule for the past 10 years, and it was obviously affecting George in ways he hadn't anticipated.

Violent mood swings, lapses in concentration, random aches and pains all over his body, and he looked paler than usual.

The irony was not lost on either of you.

George was PMSing, and it was very funny to you, who were also exhibiting those symptoms for an entirely different reason.

What wasn't funny though, is that along with all of that, every time you got anywhere near George his fangs would make an appearance, and he would growl before scampering away from you.

You decided to confront him the night before the race, in his hotel room.

“George you can't go on like this, look at the state of you.”

He was laying in his bed, covered in sweat and trying to cool himself down, despite the shivers that wracked his body.

“This is ridiculous. Just feed on me if you have to, but you can't race in this state, and we need the points”

“I'm not doing that to you. The side effects are... not... you know”

He was struggling to get words out as his pupils grew and he glanced down to the shorts you were wearing.

“No, I don't know, tell me.” You crossed your arms stubbornly.

He sighed and shoved a pillow over his face, breathing into it hard.

When he put it down he seemed slightly calmer.

“You need to go, please. Your smell is... overwhelming”

Your eyebrows shot up.

As your next words left your mouth, you realised too late that you had just altered the course of your relationship forever.

“Eat me out then if it's so hard to ignore, if you don't want to bite me then at least that way you can get some human blood”

He whimpered as your words hit him, like full on whimpered, and looked at you with wide eyes.

“As much as I would very much like to do that, it wouldn't be enough blood”

He was panting into the pillow again. Just the idea of you letting him use you like that was turning his brain to mush.

“Then bite me”

He groaned and you sat down next to him, pulling the pillow off his face.

“I'm not kidding, George. Bite me, I don't care about the side effects or whatever it is you're so scared of. I can't bear seeing you like this.”

His resolve crumbled and in a flash you found yourself flattened on the bed underneath him.

“Are you sure?” his irises were no longer visible and his fangs were fully on display “Because this isn't something we can come back from”

You gulped.

“Take what you need, George. I'm here for you”

He whined and rested his forehead against yours.

“You don't understand. My fangs, they release some kind of chemical when I bite and... well... on humans it acts like an aphrodisiac.”

The breath got caught in your throat as he nosed at your exposed neck.

“And I can't promise I'll be gentle when you start begging me to fuck you.”

You felt your heart rate increase as you let his words sink in.

The person on top of you was no longer the George you knew.

He smirked against your skin, sensing your pulse quicken.

“You like that idea, do you?”

“George-“

“I'm not going to do anything until you give me consent, sweetheart”

You turned your head, exposing your neck to him and he growled.

“Bite me, George. Please”

The sound he made was inhuman as he licked a stripe up your neck and settled over the spot at the juncture of where your neck met your shoulder.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him flush against you, leaving absolutely no space between your bodies.

“Ready? This might hurt a bit at first, but after that... well...”

You threaded your fingers through his hair and pulled him towards you.

“Do it, I want it” you gasped as his sharp fangs made contact with your skin.

He took a deep breath and sank in to your flesh, putting a hand over your mouth to muffle the scream he knew would come.

He was right, at first it felt like you were on fire and your neck was being ripped apart.

Then you felt it. The slight tingle in your loins.

As George soothed the bite with his tongue, lapping up every drop that seeped out of your body, you felt a need for more grow within you.

That need soon became overwhelming and you once again felt like you were on fire, but this time from the pleasure coursing through you as George sucked on your neck.

But it wasn't enough. Nothing was enough.

You hips bucked of their own volition against George and he moaned, releasing your neck for a moment.

“God you're so wet I can fucking smell it”

“George! Oh my god I need you!”

Your eyes rolled back into your skull when he made quick work of both of your clothes and rubbed himself against your soaked core.

“Please! Please I need- fuck, I need you, please!”

George could only hold back so much when you were begging so prettily below him, blood leaking out of your neck and streaking your skin with red.

It drove him feral, and he pushed himself inside you while running his tongue all over your skin to taste you.

You wailed as hips made contact with yours, he was so deep and it felt like you were going to burst with how full you felt.

“George, oh my god!”

He chuckled and gave an experimental thrust, making you keen and beg for more as his cock made you see stars.

“Fuck baby, look at you begging for my cock. If I'd known you were so desperate I would have done this sooner”

His hips sped up, the wet sound (and the smell) of blood and slick coating your thighs was driving him insane. You were ready to burst, but it wasn't enough.

“Harder, please! Fuck- make me yours! Fuck me George!”

You were delirious with it, trembling as George hit harder and deeper with every thrust.

Tears of frustration clung to your lashes and George's heart broke as he wiped the one running down your cheek.

“What is it darling, what’s wrong?”

You whined as you teetered on the brink of ecstasy, not quite managing to get there despite George's best efforts.

“I think- I think I need you to bite me again” you panted as George's hips stuttered, close to the edge himself.

“Fuck, that's- that- okay...”

His teeth sank into the other side of your neck and the pain of it sent you into overdrive, white exploded behind your eyelids as you arched your back almost painfully, and you came all over George's cock.

The intense taste of your blood invading George's senses sent him careening into his own orgasm and he pumped his hips a few more times, filling you up to the brim and wrapping you in his arms, holding on tightly as the guilt started setting in.

You came down slowly and threaded your fingers through his hair gently, scratching as his scalp.

“Now you know what a Vampire bite does... I'm so sorry” George whispered into your skin.

“George-”

“Can I be honest with you?”

You were taken aback by the question but you nodded at him encouragingly.

“That was my first time”

Your eyebrows shot up as you stared at him.

A smile slowly crept onto your face and you stroked his cheek tenderly.

“Did I take your virginity?” you bit your lip trying to keep serious but failed miserably when he groaned and rolled his eyes.

“It was my first time biting a human!”

“I know George, I was just kidding” you laughed and he huffed in annoyance.

He pulled out of you slowly and groaned when he looked down at the mess.

“Oh my god. There is blood and cum everywhere... the cleaning fee is going to be insane.” He frowned at the mess. “And it's so fucking hot I'm hard again” he sighed and you giggled.

“Well... my offer from earlier still stands...” you said coyly, sitting up a bit to pull George in for a kiss.

“What offer?” he panted into your mouth.

You smiled mischievously at him.

“The offer to eat me out”

His eyes rolled back and his cock twitched against your hip.

Once a couple of his braincells managed to work again, he opened his eyes and you saw the blue instantly disappear as his pupils grew.

"Yes please”

[merakiui]

Would the RSA vs NRC gangbang be like one dorm at a time or all the same time? Tossing RSA darling from one dorm to another so that everyone gets their fill. (would be a surprise if darling didn't get preggers from all the cum :v)

Anyway, how'd the RSA students or mainly just neige and chenya react? Would they fuck the cum outta darling orrr?

Communal RSA hole...... >_< I imagine whichever dorm you stumble upon first becomes your temporary home for the day or so that you're there. You don't even get to tour the rest of campus because you're almost always on someone's dick and if you aren't then you're on your knees utilizing your mouth or your hands... orz something something "RSA hole is the best" type of opinion amongst the NRC students. They're all so greedy and terrible!! >:(

I like to imagine most of the RSA students have a savior complex to some degree. Being the school that is famed for being "good" and having a "pure-white" reputation it would make sense for someone like Neige to want to help you in any way he can, so very heroic and princely, not only out of the goodness of his heart but because he likes you. So seeing the state you're in now,,, his heart just breaks. :< how could such a thing happen (he almost doesn't believe it, but maybe that's just him trying to keep up the act of the sweet, good-natured, innocent friend)!! He'll take care of you,,,, even though your solo visit to RSA was mostly encouraged by him. Perhaps Neige isn't so saintly as everyone thinks he is. :)

Che'nya...... if you went to Heartslabyul, I feel like he'd play at being sympathetic even though he's probably itching to say, "Yeah, that tracks. Don'tcha know the kinda nyaasty stuff they're into over there?" The amount of things Che'nya's seen every time he goes invisible snooping at Heartslabyul... too much. orz those card soldiers are FREAKS!!!!!

[cassandraclare]

*sighs a bit* Okay. Guys. I have been asked this question a lot, and answered it a lot. I don't know how to give a better answer — Dru & Ty&Kit share significance as main characters — so I guess I'll talk a little about comparison and structures.

First, all series have different structures. I don't think it's super useful or predictive to try to map an upcoming, unknown book series onto an existing series. In TLH the main character was Cordelia, everyone else was secondary to her, and people's roles and the significance of them altered from book to book. It was a big ensemble cast and they mostly stayed put in London especially in book 1.

TWP focuses on a smaller group of people. It also has a very different structure. In book one, Dru is not with Kit and Ty. They are in different places, both of which have their own stories that are significant to the plot. There is no way to see Place One without following Dru. There is no way to see Place Two without following Kit and Ty.

I know that TWP is a long way off. I know there are people who are very angry with me that there's such a gap, but there isn't anything currently I can do about that, or about the fact that I don't yet have the schedule for my upcoming books. That rests in the hands of several different publishers who must coordinate the release times and production schedules for four different series. I am not withholding any information about when these books come out. I simply don't know it yet.

I understand that TWP being a long way off makes for anxiety, and that those who are worried Kit and Ty will somehow be secondary are looking for tiny clues in microscopic details — micro-reading the of placement of the word "and" in my newsletter and such — that are meaningless, but I get that it all comes from anxiety. (FTR, those worried Dru will be secondary are equally anxious.)

I think there is only so much I can say. Because there's a big gap between TLH and TWP everything I do say or every image or hint about it is freighted with a weight of assumption it can't really support. Anxiety is always going to trump reassurance. And truly, at the end of the day, if you only care about Kit and Ty and find the idea of a Dru story tiresome, you will feel like they got shafted because when you absolutely hate a plotline, you will always feel like it's taking up way too much space. That's just how our minds work.

I've been doing this long enough that I know no book can survive a hostile reading. I know that Book Three of a trilogy is the one people hate until they don't. (When Clockwork Princess came out people hated it so much I considered quitting writing!) I know that it's wonderful to love a character but can also be a problem for people when I put out books that aren't about that particular character or dynamic. I know that for a lot of people, Sword Catcher and Ragpicker King are just tiresome things that have no business on my schedule because they're not Shadowhunter books. And I get it. But I also have to block it out, because I've been writing a long time, and I've gotten to a point where I know that I have to write the thing I want to be writing, because if I don't, if I sit down and try to force myself to write something I'm not feeling like writing at that time, I'll be making myself physically and mentally sick. And that's no good for anyone, really.

I suppose the positive thing is that, while this would not have been true five years ago, I am at the place where I want very much to be writing Wicked Powers. I missed these characters and am glad to be back with them. I consider this a story in which there are three main characters. And that is all I can say right now because it's all that I know.

(And this was much more of a general response to a lot of things than a specific response to this question, but I did feel like it was stuff that I needed to say. Creators are at the end of the day, just people. Sometimes we are powerless to reassure. Sometimes we are tired. Sometimes we are wrong. Sometimes we try things and they don't work. Sometimes we can't explain to you what our story is going to make you feel, because only reading it is going to tell you that. This may be one of those times.)

[splinterclan]

what is the clan's relationship with the warrior code. Because they don't really seem too strict about it.

I just went and copy pasted the Warrior code from the WC Website and I'll put what percent they follow that rule after each one (never actually read the warrior code so this is fun jsjs)

1. Defend your Clan, even with your life. You may have friendships with cats from the other Clans, but your loyalty must remain to your Clan, as one day you may meet them in battle. - 100%

2. Do not hunt or trespass on another Clan’s territory. - 100%

3. Elders and kits must be fed before apprentices and warriors. Unless they have permission, apprentices may not eat until they have hunted to feed the elders. - 100%

4. Prey is killed only to be eaten. Give thanks to StarClan for its life. - 100%

5. A kit must be at least six moons old to become an apprentice. - 100%

6. Newly appointed warriors will keep a silent vigil for one night after receiving their warrior name. - 100%

7. A cat cannot be made deputy without having mentored at least one apprentice. - 90% Was lax for Moor since the clan started without any apprentice age kids, but will be 100% for every deputy after her

8. The deputy will become Clan leader when the leader dies or retires. - 100%

9. After the death or retirement of the deputy, the new deputy must be chosen before moonhigh. - 100%

10. A gathering of all four Clans is held at the full moon during a truce that lasts for the night. There shall be no fighting among Clans at this time. - 0% There's 5 clans total around, but their territories are so massively far apart it's really not feasible for them to visit each other at all (like, miles apart - Oakclan is a 2-3 day journey from Splinter's camp). Every clan interaction in the game I interpret as happening with wandering rogue groups instead

11. Boundaries must be checked and marked daily. Challenge all trespassing cats. - 100%

12. No warrior may neglect a kit in pain or in danger, even if that kit is from a different Clan. - 100%

13. The word of the Clan leader is the warrior code. - 80% ish? the clan is just way too small for there to be the separation that is required for dictatorship effect. It's more like a family where your dad "sets rules" but you know he won't beat your ass if you disobey them, but you mostly obey them anyways bc you love him (Whorlstar is their dad)

14. An honorable warrior does not need to kill other cats to win his battles, unless they are outside the warrior code or it is necessary for self-defense. - 100%

15. A warrior rejects the soft life of a kittypet. - 100% They won't go near or take food from humans - even when Cedar lived near one for a bit, he never took food from them.

So apparently they follow it pretty well? There seems to be a lot of unspoken rules in WC (like don't have kits with outsiders etc. Med cats can't have kits) That aren't on this list, so I guess they're not official? Idk xD I've said this before, but I have only read the first series of books so I don't have the fullest knowledge, but I do feel like with WC-based stories stuff like having the Med Cat get in trouble for having kits or half-clan relationships being persecuted are dumb rules anyways so I'd just rather write about something else

Plus clangen itself has no internal code for punishing that kind of stuff so it's all free game there too luckily ^^