#old fic from the internet dark ages

[andiais1]

Harry Potter next generation fic. SFW. Horror short Drabble. Mentions of sex, not graphic.

Darkness Creeping

Summary:

The end of the world had come creeping in insidiously from the shadows.

Notes:

James/Teddy

It had begun with muggles disappearing. Whole families vanishing from their homes at night, with no evidence left behind to say why. No blood splattered across the walls, belongings left exactly where they had always been. Pan were left simmering on stoves, music playing repeatedly from stereos, showers left running.

The muggle authorities had at first merely put the disappearances down to unknown factors, not too worried about it until they realised that it was happening all over the globe, with alarming regularity. Within three months, whole towns were disappearing over night. Within six, the muggle population had been decimated, mere thousands left.

The wizarding world had taken note of the disappearances, but had not worried. What did they care if a few muggles disappeared? There were so many of them after all. No, they had not cared, until it happened in their community.

Suddenly, the wizards had found that they were not immune to whatever was happening to the muggles. Their magic did not protect them from the horror that slithered in when the night fell. They were merely able to see what was taking them. Strange, misty malformed beasts pouring out of the dark corners and shadowed crevices. Men with eyes like dinner plates and hands like claws. Dogs with too many legs, too wide jaws and teeth dripping with foul smelling saliva. That they made no sound as they came merely added to their horror. The would grin and laugh, they would speak, but no sound would reach the ears of the victims.

Sometimes, there would be a survivor. A child, or an adult, there was no rhyme or reason as to why an individual was left behind. They almost always ended up in St. Mungo's; sometimes merely sitting and staring at the wall, sometimes gibbering nonsensical words. The one thing they all had in common was that, when night fell, they would scream. They would scream and beg and cry. They would scratch and tear at the skin, their eyes and pull at their hair.

Teddy Lupin knew why they screamed. He had been left behind when the Shadow Horde, as they were being called, had come for his Grandmother. He had watched as a man with one eye hanging against his cheek, pointed teeth shining with a sinister half light in a rictus grin had sunk his claws into his Grandmother. He had felt the warm, rancid breath of a wolf with many eyes and rotting flesh as it breathed in his scent; waiting for it to bite into him and drag him into the dark pantry that had been left open.

But the creature had just turned and padded silently back into the creeping dark, leaving him shaking and crying and sitting in a puddle of urine. He had gone to Hogwarts immediately, following several other wizards and witches who believed that Hogwarts was still safe.

Teddy was one of the few left, even the survivors of previous attacks had been taken when St. Mungo's was emptied. The Weasleys were all gone, they were taken when Godric's Hollow was attacked on Christmas eve, the entire village gone, no survivors other than James Potter, who was no longer the carefree boy that had loved life with a passion that others envied.

Now, James only came alive when Teddy was fucking him, whispering filth in his ear and biting until blood flowed from broken skin under his teeth. He only smiled when Teddy was sucking his cock; a grim, brittle smile that matched the rough hands that gripped multi-coloured, ever changing hair.

Now, night was drawing in, and James turned dead eyes to Teddy and said “They're coming. It's tonight. We're the last ones, and they're hungry.”

Teddy looked out of the window, over the darkened grounds of Hogwarts. He saw them walking towards the castle, gliding with an unholy grace that was just wrong when set against their appearance. They were horrifying, and yet Teddy was not afraid.

James took hold of his hand and pulled him towards the Entrance Hall. As the great door of Hogwarts opened, and darkness crept in, Teddy looked at the grotesque, butchered form of his Grandmother and smiled. James' whisper of “Dad.”accompanied the dimming of the final light, and Teddy squeezed his hand and stepped forward into the unending darkness.

[milla-frenchy]

Push it

3k4 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist

Summary: you have a secret “relationship” with Joel, your dad's best friend. You know you can't have more, but you can’t resist the idea to provoke him a little

Warnings: 18+ mdni. Age gap (reader early 20s, Joel late 40s), Joel is a grumpy, possessive, jealous man, reader is a brat. Grinding, dry humping, oral (f/m), pussy slapping, spanking, degradation, rough sex, dirty talk, cum eating, squirting, piv, creampie

a/n: so, this is my first dbf!Joel fic. Thank you anon, for your ask ❤️ I hope you'll like it 🙏

@aurorawritestoescape thank you for beta-ing baby 💕🫶

dividers @saradika-graphics 🙏

The fic is titled after “Push it” by Garbage 

Joel was looking at you walking back and forth from the dining room and the kitchen, swaying your hips and teasing him in your short dress. And if your father had been paying any attention to him instead of the game on TV, he would have noticed the way Joel was biting his upper lip or rubbing his hands together. Joel was nervous, and the more nervous he got, the more you teased him.

“Damn brat,” Joel muttered under his breath.

“What?” your father asked.

“Nothing,” he replied and then sighed. “Just said that player really sucks, that’s all.”

“I think he’s hot,” you said cheerfully. “How old is he?”

“A little too old for you to be interested, honey. Over 30 years old.”

You scoffed at your father’s words, and you were pretty sure you heard “jesus” coming out of Joel’s mouth.

You spent the rest of the match pulling down your neckline to expose more of your cleavage or hiking your dress up your thighs. You were careful to do it in a way that your father wouldn’t consider inappropriate if he ever looked at you at some point, but he was captivated by the game. 

Your and Joel’s gazes met often and he gave you a few serious warning stares that you ignored shamelessly. You didn’t even try to hide your satisfaction each time he had to readjust his jeans.

Once the match was over, you brought their empty beer bottles back to the kitchen, and Joel's firm hand closed around your arm as soon as you were there.

“The hell you doin’?” he grumbled.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Cut the crap, sweetheart,” he hissed through his teeth. “Acting like a damn tease, makin’ me hard during the game? In front of your father, goddamn it! Could even see you’re wearing the black lingerie.”

“Ooooh… yeah, your favorite. Too bad you made it very clear the last time you filled me up- we fuck just for fun, right? So let me have fun and act as I please in my father's house. And let go of me.”

But he squeezed harder. “Keep it down,” he growled. “And that ain’t what I said.”

“Whatever. Next time you see me, I may be with my boyfriend.”

“What boyfriend?” His nostrils flared and you loved the sight.

“The one I’m probably gonna meet tonight, when I go out with my friends. The one who’ll appreciate my lingerie. Let go of me,” you repeated, yanking yourself free.

You headed towards the kitchen door, and after glancing behind, you saw him leaning against the counter. Annoyed, dark eyes, eyebrows furrowed, arm muscles stretching his black t-shirt. Irritation suited him well, he was even more handsome than usual. You tried to ignore the racing of your heart as you stepped back into the dining room.

“Can you help me with the internet at home?" he asked you in front of your father. “Connection ain't working.”

“I’m sorry, Joel, I can’t right now. I have to get ready, I’m going out tonight and my friends are picking me up in an hour.”

“Jesus, your manners?!” your father replied as if you had said the most impolite thing in the world. “Go help Joel. Your friends can wait a few minutes.”

You rolled your eyes, careful so that only Joel could see you. He smirked in a way that was so feline that you felt yourself dripping. He walked out towards his house, not checking if you were following him. He knew you were. 

Once home he sat down on his couch, resting his right arm on the backrest.

“What's the problem with the internet?”

“Ain't got any problems. Come here,” he said, patting his thighs.

“What makes you think I wanna sit on your lap?”

“Pussy's dripping. Can smell it from here.”

You rolled your eyes but you walked over to him and straddled him, placing your hands on his broad shoulders. He grabbed your hips tightly and positioned you how he exactly wanted you, his stiff shaft in his jeans against your folds covered only by your black panties. Your eyes sparkled when you felt his manhood. His were fixed on yours. Full of confidence, the eyes of a mature man, aware of his power of seduction over you.

“Stop being a brat and grind on me. I know you need it bad.”

You rolled your hips slowly, grinding against his hard cock. His hands firmly laid on your hips, but letting you lead the pace. His jeans almost hurt your inner thighs but you needed that friction against your soaked pussy. That sweet pain, the one that helps to feel better, like an itch that can be relieved only when you scratch it a little. He pulled your neckline down roughly, cupping your breasts in his palms before taking a nipple in his mouth, sucking and licking it.

“Joel…,” you whimpered.

“Keep humping me, sweetheart. Yeah, just like that. She needs it, uh?”

He took your nipple back in his mouth, licking and then nibbling on it lightly, pressing on your shoulders to feel you more.

“Use me. Use me to get off,” he said, the need in his voice showing you how much he loved feeling you rub yourself against him. You kept rolling your hips, moaning “Joel, Joel…,” your whimpers getting louder and louder, until you breathed out “it’s good, so good, I’m gonna come,” just before you came against him, whining into his neck, trembling. Your desire wetting your panties even more and flowing onto his jeans.

You let your forehead rest against him, panting into his skin that you kissed as he stroked your back, before you pulled back and faced his dark eyes.

“I wanna suck your cock,” you said, kneeling down and unzipping his jeans.

“Yeah? Gonna help me with that after your little game? That's what you wanted, uh? Wanted me to get fuckin’ hard, while I couldn't do anything about it.”

You nodded, there was no more brat attitude left in you, just eagerness as you pulled his cock out gently, and watched his weeping, red tip. You licked your lips and spread the precum around his slit with your thumb. You sucked him the way he liked, lingering on his tip for a long time, licking, sucking. Each time, you wanted to give him the sloppiest head, so that he wouldn’t think about anyone else. Wouldn’t want anyone else.

When you took his length in your mouth, getting used to its thickness, pressing your tongue against his quivering skin, you felt him shiver. Until he pressed his cock against the back of your throat, and finally put his hands on your head. You loved feeling his underlying power, his pressure on your temples.

“Don’t move,” he said in a low voice, his length buried in your hot throat. You felt his tip twitch. Finally he started to thrust, fucking your mouth and your throat, using you as a fuck hole.

The mouth of his best friend’s daughter. He didn’t think about it anymore, when he was buried in one of your three holes. His remorse was forgotten. He didn’t care what could happen next, where this relationship or whatever it was, would take both of you. Didn't think about the consequences anymore. Only your warmth, your tightness welcoming his cock, mattered.

His hands firmly gripping your head, he thrusted in, and began fucking your mouth relentlessly. From the first time he’d fucked you, you noticed how different he was from your previous boyfriends. He loved when you teased him. He loved being seated on his couch, manspreading, while you were dancing lasciviously in front of him, waiting for him to break and reach out to you. But sometimes, often, you were the one breaking first. 

When you danced like that, his gaze was full of promise. Promise to fuck you so well you’d forget your own name when he was done with you.

Guys of your age didn’t have that patience.

He loved to make you come several times before spilling his cum. Sometimes he made you come again after, with his tongue or fingers, leaving you breathless and cock dumb. 

Your ex boyfriends usually didn’t care.

But he cared.

You let him use your mouth, let him move your head back and forth. Let him bury himself in the back of your throat. You learned not to gag anymore, when he fucked it. He trained you to do it. 

His hands froze on your temples, and you knew he was about to shoot hot ropes of cum that would hit the back of your throat.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna come… swallow all of it, sweetheart. Like a good girl, just like I taught you.”

His cum spurted out, and drop by drop, you swallowed it all. Then you carefully cleaned his shaft, his tip, until he pulled out. He put his cock back in his pants, and zipped them.

“You should go, you’re gonna be late.”

“Do you have something to tell me, Joel?”

“Good evening?” He sighed when he saw your eyes, a little blurry, and added “and keep those wet panties on. I want you to remember how you came humping me, while you’re out with your friends.”

You didn’t try to meet his gaze when you heard his words, and you left.

Babe? Babe!” You heard your friend’s voice in the distance. You were so lost in your thoughts. Always the same. Joel.

“What’s wrong with you?”

You spread your hands in front of you, as if to mean you had no idea what she was talking about.

“We’re supposed to have fun and you seem… somewhere else. What’s on your mind, babe?”

You answered that everything was fine, and tried to push Joel out of your thoughts. Joel who had told you that you weren’t a couple, that you didn’t have a relationship because your father, other people couldn’t know. That this thing between you was a bonus that you were giving each other. But that there couldn’t be more.

So when a guy of your age approached you and asked you to dance, you didn’t say no. When he offered you a drink and asked if you wanted to join him in the bathroom of the bar, you didn’t say no either. Sat on the bathroom sink, you let him eat you out.

And you only thought about Joel who always did it so perfectly, knew when to lick lightly, when to suck on your clit, knew how to fill you with two of his fingers. You had to think about him, the whole time that guy was eating you out. You had to think about Joel’s beard and mustache, scratching tenderly or roughly against your sensitive skin.

It was the only way for you to come.

When you left the bathroom, Joel was the first person you saw. Dark stare. Then darker than ever, when his gaze fell on the man who walked out of the room right after you. You froze before heading to your table, but he grabbed your arm before you sat down. 

“I’m taking you back home. Now.”

“Are you mad? I come home whenever I want.”

“Wow wow! What’s going on? Are you her dad?” Joel looked at this man whose name you didn't even know, from his full height, fists clenched. Joel looked at him as if he wanted to throw him to the ground, making him take a step back.

“No I ain’t her dad, luckily for you”, he growled. He turned to you before adding “I said, now.”

You followed him, like a docile dog. Turned on by his jealousy and attitude.

“Get in the damn car,” he grumbled. He started driving, silent, hands clenching the wheel until his knuckles were white.

“Joel…”

“Don’t,” he rambled. “Don’t say a word.”

You sank into the seat, waiting for him to drop you off at your place. But he pulled into his driveway.

“Follow me,” he said, without waiting for you.

When you joined him at his house, his hands were on his hips, his gaze turned towards the ground.

“You fucked him?” he asked in a low voice.

“No. No I didn't.”

“He fucked you?”

“No, damn… He didn't fuck me.”

“Yeah?” He raised his eyebrows, in a way that was clear- he didn't believe a word you were telling him.

“Yeah,” you confirmed.

“Don't lie to me. You got that “just fucked” face.”

“Damn, I… He went down on me, that's all.”

“You let him go down on you? On that pussy?”

If you didn't know him, his tone might have seemed detached. But you had known him for a long time, and the surprise mixed with jealousy didn't escape you. Actually, it was even more than a surprise. Almost a shock.

You even felt like he was holding back from saying “my pussy.” But he had been clear about you two. Fun.

“Why do you care? You don’t want anything serious.”

“He ate you with your wet panties on? He pushed them to the side?” You nodded shyly, almost embarrassed.

“Fuck, come here,” he said, grabbing you by the hips before pulling you back towards the couch, your feet dragging in an attempt to keep up with his pace.

He pushed you roughly to sit you down and knelt down in front of you. He pulled your dress up and practically ripped your panties off, and yanked your hips towards the edge of the couch.

“I think this pussy needs to remember who makes her come,” he growled, already pushing two fingers inside you. “You're fucking soaked. You came in his damn mouth?”

“Yes I… Fuck, Joel!” He was fingering your pussy quickly, as if he wanted to remove any memory of any man other than himself.

“Was he good at it?”

“Yeah, he was perfect. Made me come so quickly.”

He slapped your swollen clit and you whined, tears at the corner of your eyes.

“I said, don't lie to me,” he spat at you, stopping his fingers deep inside your pussy.

You lowered your head before answering.

“No, he wasn't good at it. Had to think about someone else to come. Had to think about you,” you whined. “Stop being mean to me, I didn't do anything wrong!”

“I need to remind you how this cunt needs to be eaten. Like the damn slut she belongs to.”

This wasn't the first time he'd degraded you. He'd noticed early on how receptive you were to it. And the way your pussy squeezed his fingers couldn't hide it, once again.

He settled between your thighs, lapping at your cunt still soaked with another man’s saliva, your pleasure and your desire for Joel.

He dove in like it was his last meal on earth, lapping, sucking, mixing his saliva with someone else's and he didn't care. Your hands tangled in his curls. Your orgasm was building and Joel stopped just before you exploded on his fingers and tongue.

“No Joel! Please, why did you stop?”

“I don't want another tongue on this cunt. Ya hear me?”

“But you said…” He slapped your clit again, making you whimper.

“Repeat it.”

“I… fuck, Joel! Jesus… You don't want another tongue on this cunt.”

“If I see you with anyone else again, if I hear about you with anyone else, I’ll spank you so hard you won’t be able to sit down for days.”

Your pussy clenched around his fingers without you being able to control your body.

“Jesus Christ, you fuckin’ like it? You want to get punished over my knee like the dirty little brat you are?”

“I… no, I… fuck…”

“Pussy's drooling even more. Unbelievable…” He started to finger you again, slowly, and placed his thumb on your swollen and sensitive clit, making you whimper. “You were a good girl, with proper manners. And now… can't think straight since you took my fat cock, right?”

“I'm… fuck. I'm a good girl.”

“Really?” he smirked darkly. “Good girls don’t get their pussy eaten by a stranger in a damn bar.” He leaned down and licked a long stripe from your hole already filled with his fingers to your clit, before stopping again cruelly. “Good girls don’t make their man jealous,” he added before diving between your thighs, fingering you fast and so hard that his knuckles tapped against your entrance. His tongue focused on your clit, swirling around it perfectly. 

“My… my man?”

He didn't answer, growling from the depths of your thighs, making you squirm on his fingers as he fingered you hard, until jets spurted out suddenly and wetted his face.

“Fuck yeah! that’s a good girl, squirting on my face, jesus, sweetheart…”

You were completely gone, not realizing that you were cumming on his fingers still buried inside you, until he replaced them with his tongue. He drank everything you gave him, greedy, eager. You kept squirming but his strong grip kept you seated on the couch.

When your jolts stopped, he grabbed your arm to lift you up and bent you over the dining room table. His hand tightened on the back of your neck, and he unzipped his jeans, lowering them mid-thigh with the other one, before sinking into you in one go, grunting like an animal.

He buried his fingers in the flesh of your hip, pumping into you. Hard, deep thrusts, growling “take it, just like that,” and you could only take it. Letting him feed on your needy pussy, on your low moans that he could barely hear, fucking you so hard that you were almost speechless except for the whimpers.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so good.” He kept thrusting in, filling you like only he knew how.

“Harder, Joel. Harder, please,” you begged.

“Jesus…”

Clinging to the edge of the table, you tried to remain as still as possible despite his roughness that threw you forward with every thrust.

“Say my name”, he said in a needy voice. You didn’t hear him and he scoffed. “Too cock dumb to even hear me,” he growled before spanking your ass, hard, making you squeal.

“Joel!!!”

“Oh, you’re back? I said, say my fucking name.”

“J… Joel…”

“That’s right. Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours.”

A second spank landed on your already red skin.

“Say it again.”

“Damn, Joel?! Your pussy… my pussy’s yours, damnit…”

A third spank, even harder than the other ones. “Joel, what the fuck??” you whined.

“Squeezin’ me so tight, each time I spank you… don’t pretend you don’t like it, dirty fucking girl.”

You didn't answer. He was right, you liked it. He knew it and you knew it. You liked his strength, you liked that he used you. You liked being his.

“I’m gonna come. Gonna fill you up, fuck!”

He shot his cum deep in your pussy and didn't stop thrusting, pumping you full until you milked his cock.

Your hand against the wood of the table, you were breathing heavily, trying to catch your breath as his heavy body pressed against yours.

“You said it was just for fun… What happened?” you murmured.

“Ain’t what I said. I said, your father can't know. The neighbors, your friends, can't know. But you… you gotta know. I don't share. Got it?”

“Yeah… got it.”

You smiled, feeling his breath against your neck, and his hand tightening on yours, on the wood of the table.

Thank you for reading 🙏

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[ilygetou]

๑ 2023 KINKTOBER | MINORS DNI. ๑

⋆｡°✩ details. will be posting a total of (almost) 13 fanfics throughout the weeks of october with one bonus/special piece. I’ll only be writing the main c/w here, once you get to the actual post you’ll get the whole c/w list so make sure to read that as well. Some works would be highly suggestive & won’t be suitable for some. read at your own discretion.

⋆｡°✩ notice. please be aware that i might not be able to finish every single piece by time but let’s hope that doesn’t happen. </3 main note is under the cut.

⋆｡°✩ taglist. fill this up if you’re tyna’ get tagged whenever i’m about to post a piece from this masterlist. scroll to the end if you only wanna be tagged in specific ones/pieces. must be 18+ to get tagged!

๑ THE FOLLOWING CONTENT YOU’RE ABOUT TO VIEW INCLUDES EXTREME DARK CONTENT THAT MIGHT BE TRIGGERING FOR SOME PEOPLE.๑

๑ PLEASE PROCEED WITH EXTREME CAUTION. ๑

NOTE: AAA HI GUYS!!! this year’s kinktober is going to be a bit different than last year’s kinktober, last time i did a “one kink + character” this year is going to be fully dark content fics with more than one kink, i’ll try & finish & post all of them right on time since i kinda gave up on last year’s kinktober–i’m hoping i’ll manage to post every single fic for this one–anyways!! i hope you guys like it!! (๑•́ ᎔ ก̀๑)

DARK CONTENT WARNING. PLEASE, READ THE TAGS UNDER EVERY LINK.

MET HER ON THE INTERNET. – Eren Jaeger.

c/w: noncon –> dubcon, online stalking, solo m! masturbation, lovesick! eren, possessive! eren, cheating, vaginal fingering, face/throat fucking, facial, brief after-care at the end.

HEROiN CHEERLEADER – Gojo satoru.

synopsis: You were like an addictive drug to satoru, he couldn’t get enough of you. Always coming back for more, that was until you told him that you had enough – that you two should stop messing around. You wanted to focus more on your cheerleading career while gojo satoru was furious with your sudden decision, he knew the whole “focusing on cheerleading” thing is a lie when he saw how swayed you were with the new captain of your cheerleading team. He won’t leave you alone until you willingly come back to him, you got him addicted to your taste so that’s all your fault.

c/w: college au, dubcon, voyeurism, male masturbation, jealous! satoru, degrading (like lots of it), satoru blames you for everything, unprotected sex, alcohol consumption, creampie.

PACKRUNNER BiTCH. – Ran Haitian.

synopsis: You were in it for the money. Why would you waste all your young years dating a thirty year old man? Let’s be serious here, you still have so much to do with your life rather than wasting it on an old guy but you need the money. But dating an old man just for money wasn’t that worth it either, that’s why the man you chose to use was a gang member – he’s old but is a part of an incredibly famous gang in your city. You knew he had more than money and that was; drugs. You were in it for the drugs & money! This whole acting in-love thing was fun until you were found out. Do you think Ran Haitian will forgive you for using him? He’s much more arrogant than that.

c/w: age gap (reader is 22 ran is 36), spanking (he uses his hands and a belt), choking, throat fucking, cum swallowing, unprotected sex, multiple (when i say multiple I mean many, numerous) creampies.

UGLY MAN? FUN PLAN! – Toji Fushiguro

synopsis: you found toji fushiguro ugly, he’s not your type and you’d rather die than date a guy like him. On the other hand toji found you gorgeous, it was love at first sight, he fell so hard for you he’s willing to do anything for your love. Toji confessed to you many times and they all ended up with heart breaking rejections. Toji is willing to try one more time and if you reject him again then that’s also alright, he has a nice plan in mind to (forcefully) make you his.

c/w: noncon, babytrapping, forced breeder! toji :<, slapping, sloppy makeout’s, lots of degrading, choking, low-key manipulative! Toji.

WEBGHOST – Rintarō Suna

synopsis: You stumbled across an abandoned hospital and decided to go explore it, alone. You were a huge fan of horror movies & loved the “exploring haunted places” concept, it’s nerve-racking because you never knew what to expect. Once you stepped foot into the old hospital, you felt a chill run past your spin. You hoped that you may run into blood-curdling stuff so you could have something to talk about for the next week or so — but you didn’t expect to run into an actual ghost. And it didn’t seem to want to leave you alone either.

c/w: ghost! suna (don’t ask how cause idk either), mentions of blood, spectrophilia, you feel it but you can’t see suna, hair pulling, creampie.

EViL NiGHT, LOVELY NiGHT! – Jean Kirstein.

synopsis: An infamous burglar lives in your city, he somehow managed to break into 120 homes in total and still didn’t get caught, he was known for stealing valuable objects–if he broke into your house and found nothing worth stealing then he’s going to flee and find another home to rob. He never restores to violence unless the house-victim tries anything against him, he’d immediately pull out his gun and shoot. Everyone was advised to keep their doors locked until they eventually catch the burglar. And tonight was no different, double checking that you had both your doors and windows locked before heading to sleep.

c/w: non con, coercion, somno, slight degrading, gun-fucking, facial, slapping, bondage, creampie per usual.

GRAVE ROBBERY. – Getō Suguru & Gojo satoru.

synopsis: You couldn’t escape them. From middle school to highschool and all the way to college. They were there. Following you everywhere, wherever you went–those two were always there, they made sure they were always there. You haven’t escaped their bullying and harassment for the past 9 years, gaining both enjoyment & entertainment by your reactions to their heinous acts towards you. Both Gojo satoru and Getō suguru loved you despite their horrible treatment towards you, they loved you.

c/w: bully! suguru bully! satoru, noncon, blackmailing, non con recording, hair pulling, threesomes, ass + pussy slapping, clit stimulation, dacryphilia, blowjob, handjob, facial, creampie.

TU4N Y<3R PH0N3 0F5 – Sanzu Haruchiyo.

synopsis: the feeling of someone watching your every move never left you, feeling as if there were eyes on you all the time. To the point you were uncomfortable to do almost everything. Eating? Sleeping? Changing? You couldn’t do anything without feeling two eyes inspecting your every move.

c/w: stalking, noncon, hints of misogyny, semi-public sex, forced/noncon breeding, slapping, virginity loss, mentions of blood and impregnation.

RUSSIAN ROULETTE. – ft. Yuushi Totsumoto.

from lady k and the sick man.

synopsis: Yuushi took you in cause’ you had nowhere else to go. you’ve been living with him for almost two years now and he barely knows anything about you. Not only that but he almost never heard you speak, he was okay with it at the beginning. Thinking you were just a little shy. But it’s been two years and he never heard your voice properly–there were a few occasions when yuushi could hear you speak but those would be barely audible mutters.

c/w: voice kink (auralism?), pervert! yuushi, peeping, breeding kink, cunnilingus, ear licking, size kink, man handling, squirting, overstimulation, creampie per usual.

WiTCHBLADES. – CHILDE/TARTAGLIA.

synopsis: (this takes place after the fontaine archon quest), childe who ended up thrown into jail because that god awful machine decided that he was guilty. And you, you ended up being his jail mate. You wanted nothing to do with childe but he’s a literal chatter box, he never shuts up. Finally, you snap back at him, scolding him and telling you guys are literally in a jail cell right now. Childe didn’t like that attitude of yours so he decided to fuck some manners into you.

c/w: noncon, forced breeder! childe, lots of misogyny, ass + pussy slapping, no prep, size kink, dacryphilia.

F0UR L3AF CL0V3R. — Aoi Todo.

synopsis: your boyfriend was either in his room playing games 24/7, at the gym, or sleeping. Never giving you proper attention until you grew desperate so what’s better than teasing him? until he gives you the attention you’re looking for. <3

c/w: read has big tits😓, dubcon just in case, kinda modern au?, gamer! todo, lots of teasing, boobjob, face fucking/blowjob, possessiveness, size kink, manhandling, pervert! todo, panty sniffing, sumata (“A Japanese sexual term in which the female rubs her labia majora against the male's penis, without actual penetration.”), facial, cum swallowing.

⋆｡°✩ 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋/𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒:

DEVIL ON MY BACK./ REPENT. – Getō Suguru.

synopsis: After watching a movie about the so-called game; Ouija board, with your friend Anna, You couldn’t help but grow more curious about it. After purchasing the game, you ran to your basement to try out; the first thing you tried to communicate with was the infamous devil; Getō suguru.

c/w: religious themes, ouija board, non con → dubcon, slapping, hair pulling, spitting, pussy + ass slapping, anal play, dacryphilia, overstimulation, v light somnophilia, manipulation, multiple creampies, non con creampie, lowkey monster fucking??, suguru has two dicks, face fucking, cum swallowing, guilt tripping kinda, very aggressive suguru, he is mentioned to have red eyes.

© ILYGETOU 2021-’23. All rights reserved. DO NOT steal, translate, or modify any of my works <3

[ellastone-olsen]

The Legend of Sleepy Valley - Wanda Maximoff (part 1)

★Pairing: Vampire!Wanda Maximoff x f!reader

Summary: no one had ever seen the family members living in the huge estate nearby. maybe this is not just the case and they are hiding something. legends surround this place and soon you will find out for yourself where is the truth and where is the lies. this is the first time a vampire will not kill her victim.

★Warnings: NSFW 18+ (in future parts), dark au, blood, stalking, mentions of murders, nightmares, slowburn

★Word count: 2.6k

★AN: I decided to re-read Dracula and an idea came to me. this is my first series fic and the first part is preparation for the most interesting things. maybe there will be one or two more parts, I don’t know how much my imagination will suffice.

The small village of less than one hundred fifty people could not boast of special wealth, but as they say, human blood is not water, this is the true wealth that these people had. If only they knew about it.

Away from the crowd of dilapidated houses stood the old estate of the Maximoff family, whose history dates back to ancient times. No one could say exactly how long ago they settled, but every generation of people who lived here knew who lived in the ancient “castle” as the locals called it. Family members did not often catch the eye of the village residents, preferring a secluded life without “good neighbors” nearby. All you knew about them was information gleaned from the legends that parents told their children, passing on these terrible stories from generation to generation.

One of them said that it was the Maximoff family that was behind the disappearance and fatal diseases of ordinary peasants who lived in these parts. If someone’s livestock died, it means that people’s turn will soon come. No one could explain exactly how they were involved in this, which is why they were legends. Some said that all the troubles began with the arrival of the first ancestor - Konstantin Maximoff. As soon as this man set foot on the dead, poor soil of these regions, terrible things began to happen.

But who are you to believe in stupid old legends? Now is not the time when people rely on fairy tales. This was the age of computer technology and the Internet, so you could read horror stories on Google. It’s a shame that the stories turned out to be true, what’s even worse is that you learned this from your own experience.

“Why did you kill me? Why did you kill me?" You looked in horror at the doorway in which stood a man... no, a child, judging by his height, about 7 years old, but his face was not visible. Only glowing beady pupils and a dark silhouette, that’s what you could make out in the pitch darkness of the tiny room. “I didn’t do it, I didn’t kill you.” You tried to move, but it was all in vain. The body froze like a heavy marble stone. The brain was already awake, but the limbs were stuck to the mattress of the bed. Heart beat out a fast, ragged rhythm, threatening to jump out through ribs. No one would come to the rescue, you knew. “Why why did you kill me.” The hallucination repeated these words like a prayer in the temple of the Lord God, to which you were ready to go any minute. What to do, what to do, probably the same as always. Scream.

An eardrum-breaking screech escaped from your chest, maybe someone will hear it? But absolutely everything that happened was only in your head. Together with the scream, flashing flashes began to hit eyes, a good sign that the method was working. If anyone had heard the screeching, they would probably have gone deaf.

You suddenly sit up in bed, breathing as if you had run a marathon and won. It was all over, but the fear remained. Sleep paralysis was never limited only to the state of paralysis itself; even after them, anxiety was with you, sticking to the subcortex of consciousness like soft molasses. You turned on the light in the room and picked up the phone. The clock showed 3:42 am, if you are lucky, within an hour you will fall asleep again. Your finger clicked on the messenger icon and you entered a chat created specifically for communication between people living in your village and surrounding area.

Your eyes quickly scanned hundreds of messages and ads for old junk when photos of the scene caught your attention. It was talking about another cattle killing of one of your neighbors. People, as always, wrote that these were wolves or pumas, which often live in these parts. At least the claw marks were definitely not left by a human. A terrible bloody mess, what more can you say. Soon panic will sweep the village again, because everyone knows that this will be followed by the death of one of the residents. Damn it, sitting at home all day long again was the first thing your sleepy brain generated. Well, let it be, but you will get some sleep for the first time in the last couple of months.

The phone slowly fell from your hand onto the soft, fresh sheets and your lead-filled eyelids fell into your eyes. Finally the long-awaited dream. You saw your past, but more exaggerated. Winter frost, a scarf that covers half of your face and you don’t know where to go. The picture changed and you found yourself on the red carpet, walking towards the door at the end of a hundred-meter corridor. There are white walls and camera flashes all around. You didn't know where you were going, but it seemed like a good place. The door opened revealing a round room with a bunch of people and animals. A ginger cat similar to yours came up to you and you extended your hand to pet him, but the animal grabbed you with its teeth, biting over and over again. The claws passed along your forearm, leaving red droplets of blood, the wonderful dream again became a nightmare and you opened your eyes.

Your room again. The lights were off. It's strange, you didn't seem to turn it off. Perhaps mom woke up and walked past the room. Your gaze could not focus on anything, you looked around, blinked a couple of times and looked into the doorway. Someone was standing there again. A woman with long hair, you would think it was your mother, but she had short shoulder length hair. Again, hallucination is the first thing that came to your mind. You tried to bend your leg to make sure that this was the case, but the movement was easy and you sat down in fear. The figure was still standing in place and eyes accustomed to the darkness could discern clothing in the form of a knee-length dress, boots and a jacket, it seems? The head of the unknown woman in your room tilted to the side, she was also looking at you. She studied, as if deciding what to do next. It seemed that being noticed was not part of her plans.

"Who are you?" the vocal cords did not produce anything louder than a whisper. And only now did you notice a strange pain in your hand, in the same place where the cat scratched you in your sleep. You grabbed the forearm of your left hand, feeling the moisture under your palm and lifted it to get a better look. You couldn’t see anything in the darkness and you licked your palm to feel the metallic taste. Liquid scarlet blood was streaked and still leaking from the scratches, not deep enough to leave scars.

In response to your action, the stranger loudly sniffed air and seemed to... growl. But people don't know how to make SUCH sounds. “Did you do this?” you extended your palm to her, but instead of answering, the dark figure disappeared outside your bedroom. You wanted to catch up with her, but got tangled in the blanket and fell to the floor, cursing under your breath. When you went into the common room, no one was there anymore. Not a trace of anyone else's presence.

The morning greeted with the rays of the sun, which lay softly on your face. The smell of homemade pancakes wafted from the kitchen, the recently returned birds chirped on the tree branches as if they were wound up.

The phone was still lying next to you and the clock on the screen showed noon. Among hundreds of notifications overnight, you found a message from your friend Lily, which read: “I’ll pick you up at one o’clock in the afternoon.” Well, at least you had an hour to get ready. Surely, after those messages about the murder, your parents would lock you at home, and you wanted to have time to take a walk in the first days of spring.

While you were sitting in the kitchen and looking at one point, while finishing breakfast, your thoughts returned to this night. There was no doubt that the first thing that happened to you was sleep paralysis, but what happened then? How could someone sneak into your family home so silently and without a trace, why did this woman need to watch you, and even more so... You could write off the incident as another nightmare, but your forearm still stung. Raising your hand, you saw scratches that were already covered with a blood crust and were in the process of healing. Oh no, it wasn’t definitely a hallucination. When you got out of bed, the first thing you did was check your room for missing valuables, but everything was there. Apparently the only thing this strange woman touched was you. Today before going to bed you need to check all the locks in the house, all the windows and make an impregnable fortress out of it.

“Are you sure you want to go there?” The question hung in the warm spring air. Your friend was dragging you by the hand to the so-called Sleepy Valley. The children of your village were not allowed to go there, firstly because flocks of sheep usually grazed there, and secondly...

“Y/N, do you know why this place is called that way?.” Of the two of you, you knew more about local folklore, so you easily found the desired legend in the memory archives. The legend of the Sleepy Valley.

“My mother told me that there were always sheep grazing there, but one day a shepherd came into the valley and the whole flock was lying on the grass. It looked like someone had thrown cotton balls around. It looked as if the animals were simply asleep, but when the man approached one of the sheep, he realized that it was dead. They were all dead. Some maniac or animal ripped out the throats of the poor animals. This is where the name comes from.” You finished the story and were walking through the wild forest when you saw an opening. Perhaps there were such stories around this place, but there was no other place for walking cattle in the vicinity.

As the tall trees retreated, a majestic field stretched around, with a herd of fluffy white sheep as usual. Lily pulled you by the arms a little away from the animals to sit on the fresh green grass looking up at the sky. The two of you just lay there and listened to the chirping of tits, voluminous white clouds rushed above you, forming bizarre shapes. Life seemed unreal at that moment.

Only in the forest from where you came out it was watching you. Red eyes scanned everything that was happening, and acute inhuman hearing caught your conversation even at a distance of twenty meters. Your night visitor did not miss the chance to follow the first person whom she, for some reason unknown to her, did not kill during close contact. Wanda was patient, even too patient, and something about you caught her attention that night. Maybe your peace of mind or... No, it’s too early to think about that. In any case, she spent the rest of the night waiting for you to wake up and leave the house.

For so many years that she lived on this sinful earth, the daughter of the Maximoff family could tell a lot from a person’s blood. She drank dozens of people dry and each was unique in their own way, from the first sips one could understand what kind of life a person lived and what it was like, blood for her was a thing in which the essence of human nature was hidden. None of her victims had aroused an iota of interest or compassion in her, until that day.

Once every few months, Wanda’s family could afford such a delicacy as a few people from the village for whom no one would grieve. She liked to stretch out the pleasure and start with cattle, leaving human lives for dessert. Then she decided to watch the future victims and find the most tasty morsel in her opinion; in the end, her choice fell on a young beautiful girl like you. When life is in full swing, taking it away is many times more pleasant and sweeter.

That night, her plans included killing you, drinking to the last drop like everyone else before, but standing right next to you, she froze. Something was wrong. Why were your eyes open but you didn't move? She heard your heart that was ready to jump out, but it was not because of her. It seemed like you saw something that she didn’t see and she became curious. The woman walked into the darkness of the room, to the farthest corner, and watched. So you woke up, jumped out of bed and nervously turned on the light. Wanda sensed your fear, but did not understand what it was connected with.

Waiting for you to fall back into the world of dreams, she turned off the light that was blinding her and came closer, running her sharp nails along your arm to collect a small portion of blood for testing. When the first drops touched her tongue, her pupils dilated, covering the irises of the vampire's red eyes. The blood was saturated with adrenaline and was even sweeter than she expected and your personal taste. There was something about it that she couldn't place, something familiar. She took a closer look at your calm face, noticing what a cute little thing you were in her hands. No, killing you was too great a loss, she turned on her heels to hide as quietly as she appeared, but a rustling was heard behind her.

Wanda stood in the doorway and watched as you woke up for the second time that night. It’s surprising how you didn’t notice her right away, but when she saw your wet, rough tongue running over your palm, licking the scarlet substance, something clicked in her. “Did you do this?” your voice, hoarse from sleep, has long since become a spring deep inside her being. She needed to leave right now if she didn't want to kill you or take you by force.

The woman silently left the house and sat down nearby in the wild raspberry bushes. "She was beautiful, but who the hell was that?" Thoughts were heard in her head, but they were not hers. She heard your thoughts and her eyes widened, remembering what her stepmother told her many decades ago. If her memory did not deceive her, and it did not deceive her, then when sampling a person’s blood, if they arent killed, she will be able to hear all the thoughts associated with her. Then, being a recently converted vampire, Wanda did not attach any importance to this, because she did not think that something would happen that she would not complete the job. Apparently this was very arrogant on her part.

But since this has happened, why not entertain yourself for the first time in the last two hundred and ninety-seven years. From that moment on, she had her own personal human.

Part 2?

[thewallsaretalking-again]

you know what?? Fuck it, there's something I've GOTTA talk about:

(don't worry this isn't like a serious post or anything. also its gonna be really badly written with grammar errors because I'm just really excited to finally be talking about this and I'm shaking like a leaf) (also, if you don't agree with this that is completely fine; everybody ships different ships, this is just one that I personally love and me explaining how it came to be and how I image it. I'm not trying to convince anybody of anything, this is just for fun. If you don't like, that's fine! All I ask is that there is no hate and that you just move on. Thank you!)

I love rairpairs. Like, LOVE them. Anyone who's seen my old transformers art knows that I ship DreadOp which is like, a nonexistent ship. like, the ship equivalent of being an endangered species (there's like 10 fics about it on AO3, so you KNOW it's rare). There's a few examples of me being like this but this is the best example that i have.

But this has gotten to the point where i have done something absolutely ridiculous: I have created an entirely new ship- no, TWO entirely new ships (I'm only going to be focusing on one rn). AND I'VE GOTTA TALK ABOUT THEM because honestly? I love them! so, what monstrosity have I created? Whoo... prepare yourselves (especially you, dark cacao cookie fans...)

Yep. Don't hate me. Please hear me out because honestly iv'e seen more heinous ships in my time on the internet.

so, first of all, the white dude is known as the milk village elder in CRK, and we only see him once in the entire game (that i know of). I love taking npc's and giving them characters, so this is kinda how this happened. I'm gonna start by talking about the milk dude and how i headcannon/ imagine him because it will come into play later.

I gave the milk village elder the name Whole Milk Cookie, because i couldn't exactly call him Milk Cookie; that names already been taken

Whole Milk Cookie isn't actually anyone's grandfather, despite him being called grandad/ grandpappy in the actual game. We never see anyone his age in the milk village, and I like to imagine that its sorta like an honorary title. Like, he acts like everyone's grandpa, so everyone calls him grandpa but no one is actually related to him.

Whole Milk Cookie is like, ungodly sweet. Like, diabetes kind of sweet. its ridiculous. there are only a few ways to get him angry; and trust me, you don't want to...

He's strong. Like, think Hollyberry type strong. Gives the BEST hugs too.

Nobody knows exactly how old he is, but people suspect that he's actually much older than he looks. This could be caused by his extreme talent with the milk that comes from the villages well; if its used right, the milk can cure disease, help pains, or even extend someone's lifespan/ help retain youth. either that or he's some sort of demon but hey, who's counting?

got all that? good. Now the question everybody's asking; why the hell do i ship this? What's the story here? What's the origin? Well hold onto your pants folks because this is where we get into me overanalyzing shit.

behold the line that started it all:

This is so SO vague. why the hell did they put this in here it is SO VAUGE. what does he mean by "THAT king"? you know what it sounds like? someone reminiscing of their time with a loved one who has now changed....

they never elaborate on what exactly this line means and this is the very last line we hear Whole Milk Cookie say in the main story

wondering where exactly he's gone instead of wondering when he's coming back? idk man you sound worried about him...

also saying "laid your eyes upon" just sounds so gay/loving and i don't know why. yeah your laying something thats for sure glfbnvbrfnjkrb (im so sorry)

There's also this line:

The ally thing is kind of given, but why and how isn't this guy talking shit about dark Cacao? Like, he has EVERY right to! but he's not.... its almost like he cares.... and sure he mentions the generation thing but just because your parents were friends with some dude doesn't mean you necessarily like them right? so what gives??

Then there's the matter of Dark Cacao Cookies SON:

who is DArk CHOCOLATE

now Dark Chocolate usually doesn't have any milk/dairy in it, but it DOES need a fat, which whole milk DOES have!!

So, in theory, it would make sense for cacao and milk to make chocolate of some kind, AND it would account for Dark Choco Cookie having a lighter skin tone than his father (lighter eyes and the double white hair streak too)

I also like the story implications outside of cannon:

two people who would generally not be allowed to be in a relationship due to differing status keep a relationship going for years behind the backs of their communities

Dark Cacao Cookie taking full responsibility for taking care of their son, only for everything to become too overwhelming and he begins to remove himself from everything emotionally, wanting to give his son over to his other father to be properly taken care of but can't due to the dangers that poses for everyone in his family

Dark Choco nearly kills him and Dark Cacao has to exile him and (because of a mix of psychological manipulation, grief, and regret) locks up the citadel, leaving Whole Milk Cookie out of the picture entirely

Whole Milk Cookie stews in anger due to everything that's happened and Dark Cacao cookie not taking proper care of their son but eventually falls into guilt as well because he saw the signs of stress and overworking from his partner and didn't step in, assuming that everything was fine (but is still mostly mad at Cacao because he REALLY fucked up and it's not an excuse)

Gingerbrave and the crew comes strolling up and gets the citadel open, and Dark Cacao admits to Dark Choco that he didn't care enough and that he should have done things differently, and that he loves his son. Dark Choco leaves the cookies of darkness and begins a journey of recovery while Dark Cacao vows to do better for his family and kingdom in the future.

Dark Cacao meets up with Whole Milk Cookie to truly apologize to him, admitting everything he's done wrong and that he should have done far, FAR better. He tells WM that he deserves better than him

Whole Milk is obviously still angry and will never forgive Dark Cacao for what he's done. but he still loves him despite everything and would much rather the two of them work together to fix things (not necessarily romantically, more just not hating each other wise) moving forward instead of breaking things off and stewing in grief and anger.

The two of them take things extremely slow and carefully because it's been a long and difficult process, but they, eventually, get back to where they were.

Their recovery process takes years, but by that point Dark Cacao has improved himself exponentially, wanting nothing but the best for his partner and kingdom (and now knowing exactly what NOT to do) They also eventually find Dark Choco Cookie and fix things with him, but that's a whole other can of worms I'm not going to open here.

Just generally a story of two very different people, who despite goin through unimaginable hardships, do their very best despite the circumstances. they love each other more than even they realize and the fact that they are able to fix what was broken by their own hands is a testament to that, despite all of the arguments and tears along the way.

TLDR: Dark Cacao fucks up, his husband is mad but still loves him because he knows him better than anyone else, Dark Cacao actually makes an effort and succeeds to be much much better, and the two of them eventually figure things out. An unlikely love story :)

Ok, wow, that was a lot and kinda sad. But there are a few thiings that i couldn't fit into the rest of this so imma just stick them here:

Whole Milk Cookie finds Immense joy in picking up his husband and throwing him across his shoulder like some kind of really important sack

Whole Milk calls Dark Cacao "Cacao bean"

Dark Cacao loves Whole Milk Cookies cooking to a stupid extent

Dark Cacao loves playing with his husbands fluffy hair

the two of them will often help each other do their hair because they both just have SO MUCH of it

Dark Cacao, despite popular belief, is a flustered mess around his husband and can very often be found blushing like a madman whenever Whole Milk uses his strength

these two have the ABSOLOUTE WORST bedheads. Like, Cacao HAS to braid his hair before going to bed because otherwise the two of them will wake up tangled in it. And Whole Milk will just have an untamable afro.

uhh anyways. thanks for coming to my ted talk

[rose-and-thorn-fanfics]

“The Mysterious Salvatore Brother” (The Vampire Diaries: Season 1) Damon x Plus Size Fem! Reader, Part 1. This fic is a birthday gift for @armyangxls 💗

Y/n had always felt nervous around boys and girls her age. She wanted nothing more than to fit in at Mystic Falls high-school. There was just one problem. Y/n hated to admit it, but it was really hard for her to feel confident when next to her best friend Caroline (who was incredibly popular and always seemed to get the attention of her peers). It was so much easier to sit on the sidelines during cheer practice and focus on her homework or writing her own stories, than starting conversations with other students. It’s not that Y/n wasn’t pretty or smart. She was beautiful both inside and out, and brimming with inspiring ideas. One autumn day, Y/n found herself sitting under a maple tree as Caroline practiced her cheer routine with the other cheerleaders. She sketched in the margins of the essay she was writing a rough draft about.

“What’ve you got there?” a charming voice came from behind Y/n. Y/n leapt up in surprise, dropping her pencil and whirling around. There, standing in front of her was the most handsome man. His hair was dark and swept nicely over his temples, and his eyes were electric blue and seemed to pierce Y/n’s soul with an intent stare.

“I-I’m uh… just drawing…” Y/n said, trying her best not to blush. “You really shouldn’t sneak up on people like th-that.”

“Old habits die hard…” the man said shrugging his shoulders half-heartedly and taking a seat next to her on the bench. “I’m Damon, by the way.” He smirked.

“I’m Y/n,” she said, relaxing a bit. Something in Damon’s aura of confidence made her feel a bit better about talking. “I probably should be writing this paper on the history of Mystic Falls, but to be honest most of the information I got off the internet is just plain boring. I swear, Alaric Saltzman gives us the most tedious assignments.”

Damon leaned in a bit, squinting to see the opening paragraph you’d scribbled on the sheet of paper. “Looks… good, at least, if you’re set on putting your teacher to sleep.” He laughed.

“What choice do I have? It’s not like much happened in this part of Virginia in the mid 1800s.” Y/n sighed, annoyed at Damon’s criticism. “Are you even a student here?”

“No, but my idiot brother is.” Damon gestured vaguely in the direction of Stefan Salvatore, who was standing at the other edge of the field talking to Elena (who was also in your class).

“Ohhhh so you’re a Salvatore.” Y/n said, nodding as if that explained everything.

Damon stared off at the football field, as if contemplating whether or not to say something. Finally, he spoke. “I think I can help you with your assignment. I actually did a similar history paper when I was in high-school. There’s more to Mystic Falls then you’d think.”

“Why do you want to help me?” Y/n said, a bit skeptical.

“Because…” Damon said, leaning in mischievously. “You’re pretty, and honestly? I’m bored.”

“Oh… ok.” Y/n felt her heart skip a beat. “I mean, that’s not a terrible answer, even if it is a bit forward of you…” She considered. “Fine. Meet me at Mystic Grill at seven, ok?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Damon replied.

Y/n looked down at her paper and when she looked up, Damon was gone. ‘That’s weird…’ she thought, a bit uneasy. Y/n groaned, realizing she’d have to make up an excuse for her absence to tell her mom. ‘Well, hopefully I can think of something believable.’

To Be Continued… in Part 2, coming soon!

[maliciouslove]

𝕌𝕟𝕤𝕖𝕖𝕟

NSFW, aged up characters (21+)

pairing // ghost!Baji Keisuke x medium!reader x Chifuyu Matsuno

summary // after his death Baji finds himself stuck in the realm of the living. he’s firmly decided to cockblock his best friend Chifuyu, that is until he decides to seek the help of a medium to figure out what the heck is happening.

alternatively: a threesome with a ghost????

word count // 7k 

tags // supernatural, inaccurate representation of a medium, light swearing, angst?, questionably happy ending?, threesome, oral (both m! and f! receiving), spitroasting, anal, double penetration, squirting, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, cum eating, spit, praise, multiple pet names (princess, kitten, good girl, pretty girl, etc.), not choking but gentle throat holding (idk), throat fucking, there is some baji x fuyu action, feelings

AN // hello people of the internet, I'm finally reposting my fics! hence why, if this fic seems familiar—do not be alarmed, it was first posted on my old blog :] posting this one first because it is the first one that I was actually really proud of, and because I'm still feral for baji. you can also find it here on ao3. cute mdni banner by @/cafekitsune

What’s a spirit stuck in the realm of the living to do with all their free time? 

Take care of their friends, obviously. 

Baji Keisuke left the world of the living far too young. He wasn’t ready to leave, nor was he ready for the realization that he never really left. One moment there was darkness, and the next… he could see his own body, pale and bloodied, cradled by a crying Chifuyu. 

Dying was painful, but seeing this hurt more. 

Baji’s never been one to dwell too long on things; he kind of just accepted his new reality—he was a ghost. Stuck with his appearance as a 19 year old, he existed outside of everybody’s field of perception. Outside of anyone’s knowledge. 

So the best that he could do was to at least stay close to the ones he loved. To watch them from afar despite the fact that he was sitting right next to them. 

He’d watch over his mom: observe as she always left his favorite food by the altar each night. Watch as she flipped through old albums, smiling at his baby pictures. He’d listen to her talk to herself, sometimes even to him. He always found that rather funny, that she’d just randomly start talking to him, telling him all about her day, and finish off with a little “you’re not even here, are you?” as she smiles fondly at another old picture. 

He wished he could tell her, let her know. Hey mom, I’m right here! He’s tried many times, and each attempt ended with failure as his hands simply passed through her. 

Aside from keeping an eye out for his mother, he also took the time to check in on his friends. While his mother was more active during the day, his friends were more lively at night. He always felt relieved that, while a lot of things changed after his death, at least they didn’t spiral out of control. At least nobody left. At least nobody else got hurt. 

The two people he’d check on the most were Mikey, the leader of Toman and his childhood friend, and Chifuyu, his ex vice-captain and best friend. 

He followed Mikey around for a year, concerned about his mental state and the people he surrounded himself with, but luckily the rest of the gang were still there to take care of it. It was kind of nice to see Mikey finally admit he needs help, to admit he isn’t as invincible as everybody believed he was. So on that end, Baji was satisfied—he no longer felt the need to follow his every move. Mikey was in safe hands. And so were the rest of the gang—they’d all stick together through thick and thin and he loved that about them. 

But then there was the issue of Chifuyu. While his mental state was a tad more stable than Mikey’s (even though he did cry his eyes out for three months straight) and his physical strength and fighting ability were reassuring, Fuyu was always a little… lost. 

Having never been able to read people well, except for maybe Baji, Chifuyu was sometimes taken advantage of. While he may act tough, Baji knew he was kind and helpful, always giving too much of himself to others.

It was about 2 years after Baji’s death that Fuyu got into dating again, if you could even call it that. The green eyed boy was no longer blonde—instead his hair was now black (like Baji’s) and slicked back. He was a little taller, a little more muscle than before. He looked like a child no more, yet he still acted like a child sometimes, so how could Keisuke not worry about him?

The first girl Chifuyu ever decided to go out with was bad news, and Baji knew it at first glance. A stuck up, shallow, arrogant little girl that lived off of daddy’s money. Baji never wrapped his head around why she was interested in Fuyu, nor why he gave her the time of day, but the fact of the matter was that Baji didn’t like it. 

Oh, he hated her with a burning passion. Every time Chifuyu's phone would light up with her name on the caller ID, Baji would get so pissed that the room temperature would drop by five degrees. Every time she wraps her hands around Chifuyu’s neck Baji would glare at her so hard it would make the lights in the room flicker. 

His dissatisfaction with this girl grew more and more over time, and with each passing day he could notice the little things his anger caused. So he experimented with it, he focused his anger on objects, rather than dispersing it all around him, and it worked! He could move objects, little by little, and he could fuck with the lights and heating if he wanted to. 

So at some point, Baji became obsessed with chasing off girls he didn’t approve of. Under the pretense that his friend deserves better of course. He later dropped that pretense and faced the hard cold truth—if I can’t get my dick wet, neither can Fuyu. 

He’d scare off girl after girl by making objects rattle every time his best friend has his arm draped around a girl’s shoulder, swinging doors open left and right if they’re about to kiss, turning the lights on and off whenever things get spicier. It was all fun and games for the bored ghost boy, but Chifuyu was getting desperate. 

It’d been too long since he’d had a nice warm cunt wrapped around his cock. Too fucking long. And what the fuck was up with his house? He’d never been one to believe in ghosts or anything supernatural, but the weird shit was starting to get to him. 

So, incredibly desperate now, Chifuyu decided to seek help. What kind of help he wasn’t really sure, but he was angrily typing away at his laptop, trying to find exorcists or mediums or anyone who could fucking explain what the hell was happening under his roof.

The first two he had invited over were complete fakes: telling him they sensed a presence of some sort, chanting shit in a different language that Chifuyu could only presume to be Latin. They both said his house was “cleansed” now, but alas not even a week later when he had another girl ever in his apartment, the exact same things happened. 

He was losing hope until he got a ping on his phone, a reply from someone under one of his posts asking for help.

“Hey, I saw your post online that you’re experiencing some... Supernatural occurrences at home. I was wondering if I could maybe take a look myself? Free of charge if I find nothing and am unable to help you, of course.” 

He stared at his phone long and hard. Most people who answered his plea for help online started their conversation with their payment rate first, explicitly saying “no refunds,” but this person was offering help free of charge provided they are unable to help? That was new. Refreshing. Plus the idea of not paying was very appealing to him so he had nothing to lose—he immediately typed up a response, making an appointment with this medium and giving them his home address. 

And without a doubt, the following day at 6pm there’s a timid knock on his front door. He saunters over and opens the door to be greeted by the most blinding smile he’s ever laid eyes upon. 

“Hi, I’m Y/N, we spoke over text about your problem with possible supernatural activity in your home.” 

You extend your hand to him, and, nervously, he slots his hand in yours, shaking it lightly while introducing himself. He invites you in and awkwardly offers to take your coat. He wasn’t expecting a cute girl around his age, but he wasn’t complaining. 

Leading you down the hall into the living room, Chifuyu rambles on and on about the weird stuff that’s been happening, explaining how he’s already called multiple maintenance people to examine his pipes, heating, electrical wiring and so on and found absolutely nothing. 

Continuing his little rant, the green-eyed man didn't even notice that you had stopped by the door frame, staring right at the empty space on his couch. Well, to Chifuyu it looked empty, to you… it looked occupied by a slightly younger yet taller man with long dark hair and golden eyes that seemed to pierce through you. 

Without a doubt, there were all the telltale signs that he was, in fact, an apparition. He looked pale, almost translucent in the afternoon light flowing through the window behind him, a faint glow to him that made him look like a fallen angel. You could feel his aura all around you, too—the same skin prickling feeling you always had when in contact with a spirit. 

The long-haired man lazily yawns and scratches his butt, looking particularly bored as if this happens on a daily basis. He shifts on the couch, folding his hands in front of his chest and looking you up and down, as if evaluating you and deciding what course of action to take. 

“Hey, are you okay?” the Chifuyu’s voice brings you back to reality, and you tear your gaze away from the apparition across from you. 

“Um, hey, so… did you know anyone with, um, long, dark hair and bright yellow eyes? Kinda mean looking?” 

At this, Baji makes a face, half surprised she described him so well, half offended at the last part of her statement. 

Chifuyu’s eyes turn comically large. 

“How... How did you..?” 

He can’t even fully form the sentence, quickly glancing around the room to see if there are any pictures of his dead friend laying around. She can’t know about him, she’s a stranger, and he’s been gone for a few years now. So how? 

“Well, uh, he’s kind of chilling on your couch right now? Right, okay, I know this is weird, and you probably don’t believe me, I don’t blame you, most people don’t.” Your voice goes a little quieter at the end, a kind of sadness looming over you, but you shake it off quickly. “I’ve been able to see spirits since I was a child, I know, bonkers, I can’t explain how or why, but I do, and this guy is currently looking as surprised as you are.”

Chifuyu looks at the couch again, eyes glistening and full of longing, hands balled into fists at his side. But he couldn’t, so then why is he so intent on believing? Why is he so hopeful?

You don’t miss the little glint of wistfulness in his eyes, the desperation clinging onto his lips as he struggles to choose his next words. 

“Can you… talk to spirits?” 

“Yeah.. I can, provided they want to talk to me too.” 

You look at the man across from you again and smile weakly. You can’t always know if they’re malicious spirits or not; sometimes they could get real bad, but this one, despite looking feral, didn’t give off the impression he was malicious. 

“S’what, ya can see me? Hear me?” Baji spoke and the gruffness in his voice almost made you forget how to breathe. 

You don’t meet good-looking spirits often. You meet the ghosts of elderly men and women who want to look after their children and grandchildren a little longer, you meet young, fragile kids, still confused and not understanding what happened to them. But never before had you met a handsome young ghost that smirked at you as if he knew all your secrets. 

“Yea, I can see and hear you.” You smile at him, big and bright, and he feels blinded by it. Yet also so drawn to it, like some sort of heavenly light, a beacon calling him home. “Can I ask you for your name?”

“Why? Does my name give you, like, powers over me? Are ya gonna exorcise me or some shit?” 

He grins and stalks forward, closing the distance between you by simply walking through whatever objects stand in his way. Unconsciously you take a step back, not even noticing the bewildered look on Chifuyu’s face. 

“I can’t exorcise you, I’m not ordained. I can just… perceive you and talk to you.” 

You gulp and your visible nervousness makes something in Baji shift. He grins down at you, his larger frame towering over your much smaller one, and you feel so exposed under his gaze. Chifuyu’s voice is what drags you back down to Earth again.

“Wait, are you for real right now? What is happening?” He’s confused and concerned and so, so hopeful. You look at him and smile reassuringly. 

“Yeah, he just got a little closer than I expected, but I can hear and see him, hasn’t told me his name yet though. Kinda rude.” 

You arch a brow in the direction of the pale ghost again, and he fucking laughs. A whole-hearted, loud roar of a laugh, as if this is the most amusing thing that has happened to him in years. It probably is. 

“Baji Keisuke, what’s yer name sweetheart?” 

You repeat his name slowly, liking the way it rolls off your tongue and you give him your name. Meanwhile, Chifuyu is going crazy next to you, barely containing himself. 

“Baji? Did you say… Baji? Oh God, please tell me you’re not fucking with me, I swear to God..” 

You cut him off by placing a hand on his shoulder. You ask him to close his eyes, take a deep breath, and he obeys. He looks shaken: arms stiffly sitting by his sides. There’s a visible tremble in his hands, and you notice he’s not even daring to take a breath. 

The sight of him like this tugs at your heart, and your chest feels impossibly tight. Your fingers itch to touch him, to hold him close and soothe him, but the rational side of you tells you otherwise. Whatever his relationship to the other man is, he really, really misses him. The least you could do is try and give him a little glimpse. As tiring as it may be to maintain. 

You take a firm hold of his hand which feels icy compared to yours and you give him a light squeeze as you tell him to open his eyes again. And when he does… tears brim at the corner of his eyes at the sigh of his best friend. 

“Baji…” 

It’s a half whisper, half sob, and you have to hold his hand tighter so he doesn’t leap forward in an attempt to hug the spirit. 

“Can he… see me?” The spirit looks equally as hopeful as his friend, and you nod in confirmation, reveling in the fact that you were able to bring this small happiness to them.

“He should be able to hear you too.” 

And before you know it, they’re both crying. Sadness, relief, bewilderment or pure nostalgia—you don’t know, but you’re determined to give them all the time you can to catch up. 

They talk happily for hours, Baji goes on and on about how he just can’t seem to leave. Chifuyu just apologizes over and over about being too weak and unable to save him. The long-haired man just shrugs it off and offers a big fanged smile in return. They talk about so many things, and finally Chifuyu asks the question that actually led to this situation unfurling. 

“So… all the lights flickering and the noises were all… from you? Why?”

“Ah.. heh, okay don’t be mad.” 

Baji speaks in between little chuckles, amused with himself and happy that as a ghost he can’t be touched. His eyes crinkle into little crescent moons as he chirps away his clumsy explanation, elaborating that at some point he just got pissy and decided that if he can’t fuck, his friend can’t eiether. 

“You’re… joking right?” 

Chifuyu looks like he’s about to rampage and yell, but he notices your head wobbling, eyes lidded and tired. You looked exhausted and pale so he shook you a little, worry painted on his face. 

“Hey? Are you okay?” 

“Yeah it’s just.. A little tiring. It’s fine though, please continue!” 

Baji shakes his head and speaks before Chifuyu can. “Ya need to rest, dollface. Breaks m’heart seeing you like this. It’ll be fine, I got to talk to my friend today, maybe this is what helps me cross over to the other side or whatever.” 

His smile is reassuring, but a part of you wants to give them more time. Unfortunately, your body disagrees with your heart, and you start feeling very faint. 

“Hey, why don’t you lay down for a bit, I don’t want to send you off like this. It’s fine, just rest your head a little until you feel better.” 

Chifuyu had let go of your hand, losing the ability to see his friend, and gently nudged you down on the couch, placing a soft pillow under your head. You shouldn’t be falling asleep like this at a stranger’s house, but your body gives out before you could argue with yourself. 

You stir and slowly blink the tiredness from your eyes. Rising a little, you take in the room and in pieces it all comes back to you. The job, the green-eyed cutie, his hot ghost friend: the entire ordeal. 

“Finally awake, princess?” 

Baji’s voice comes right behind you, and you almost fall off the couch in surprise. In absolute reflex Baji reaches over to grab you by the waist and prevent you from toppling over and it takes him a minute to realize.

He is, in fact, holding you right now. He squeezes at your waist a little, and you look equally as dumbfounded. 

“Am I?”

“You are.”

“Holy shit.” Chifuyu’s voice gets you both out of your daze as he stares wide-eyed at the both of you. Suddenly, he can see. Without even having to hold your hand.

After some thinking, you explain to them that this has never happened before, but it’s most likely some sort of side effect for keeping them able to see and talk to each other for so long, combined with the intensity of the feelings they all shared. You have no idea how long this will last, but you’re willing to stay over for the entire duration of it. 

It’s been established that Baji can touch you and you can feel him, the question is does the same apply to his friend? They both look nervous as they approach each other, holding out a single finger and they gasp when they feel the pads of their fingers collide. 

Before you know it, Chifuyu is being hurled into a tight bear hug and nearly spun around in the room. It’s cute to see how much they still care for each other. You spend the rest of the evening asking about their friendship, learning how they became friends, how they were both in a gang, how close they used to be. How devastating it was to lose each other. 

All the while you notice you’re not getting tired at all. Which is an unusual yet welcomed change. You really like these two, you like that they’re probably some of the first people to genuinely believe you when you say you can see ghosts and not just kick you to the curb because of it. You like how cheerful they are. You enjoy their refreshing energy, and you better not be lying to yourself by saying you don’t enjoy the little pet names Baji seems so intent on giving you. 

When two o’clock rolls around, the effect is still in full force, but Chifuyu feels awful for making you stay, so he offers to drive you home instead. You try to argue that you can drive yourself, but he insists. Quite frankly, he’s just hoping you have a reason to come by again, even if it’s just to pick up your car. But you exchange numbers and promise to talk again and hang out soon. 

“Hopefully Baji won’t chase me away like all the other girls.”

“Mm, don’t ya worry about it angel, I’ve taken quite the liking to you.” 

He smiles from the back seat of the car, and you all laugh. 

As you lay in bed that night, you really hope you could spend more time with them. 

As if your prayers have been heard, you do get to spend more time with them. Surprisingly and with no explanation at all, the side effects are still in full force, and you’re both still able to see and touch the handsome spirit. 

The longer the effects are in place, the closer the three of you seem to get. Seductive jokes are thrown around, and Chifuyu picks up his friend's habit of referring to you with cute little names. He’s particularly fond of kitten, and you’re particularly fond of the butterflies the title gives you. 

With all this flirting and teasing, it’s no surprise really when you end up on Chifuyu’s lap with your back pressed to his chest, Baji towering over you, his voice a few octaves lower than it usually is when he speaks to you.

“Aw, are we makin’ ya flustered, princess?” 

His index finger traces your jaw as his eyes are practically glued to your lips and the idea alone makes your thighs press together. Chifuyu’s hands boldly roam your lower half, one hand sliding on the inner side of your thigh.

“You know, all you have to do is say stop and we will.” 

Chifuyu’s breath ghosts over the side of your neck and honestly, you don’t want them to stop. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about this, imagined how their hands would feel on your skin while laying in bed late at night. Burying your fingers in your pussy until your thighs are shaking, wishing it was their cocks instead. 

So, when you feel Chifuyu’s hands softly squeeze your breasts and glide up to gently wrap around your throat, not squeezing but just holding you there, you can’t help the little whimper that escapes. 

All Baji can manage in response is a feral growl, and he’s sinking to his knees between your legs spread over his best friend’s. Chifuyu’s hand never leaves your throat, but his other free hand takes your chin ever so gently, turning you to face him. He’s looking at you with those big green eyes, silently asking permission to kiss you, but you’re impatient. You crash your lips onto his in a messy kiss, nipping at his bottom lip when he doesn’t give you access to his mouth fast enough. Eventually, though, he obliges, tongue meeting yours in a battle for dominance that you’re currently winning. That is, until you feel Baji lifting your skirt and pressing two fingers to your clothed slit, and you lose all your composure, moaning into Chifuyu’s mouth. 

Baji is holding your legs open, his icy hands gripping your plush thighs as he feasts at the sight of your panties dampening from his ministrations. All the while Chifuyu is holding your arms in place, kissing you like you’re all the oxygen he needs, like you’re life-saving water to a man lost in an endless desert. Stuck between these two men, any other thoughts have long since left you. All you know is you want more. 

Your neediness seeps out in the form of moans and your hips wiggling against Baji’s every touch, so he happily obliges and gives you exactly what you want. Hooking a finger over your panties, he rips them off of you in one swift motion, reveling in the beauty of the little squeal you give him in response. And your pussy is as pretty as he imagined it, all puffy and pink, so wet and needy for his touch. He licks his lips and gives you another look, waiting for permission to have his way with you and all you can manage is a weak nod. 

Wasting no more time he delves in, mouth latching on your sensitive clit, tongue flicking over it in a well practiced motion. Every lick sends a shiver down your spine and coaxes wanton moans out of you. Chifiyu doesn’t stay behind either, his much warmed hands sliding under your shirt and groping at your breasts, toying with the supple flesh, tweaking and tugging on your pert nipples. His mouth was now busy sucking purple bruises into the soft skin on your neck, and every little motion from the boys was driving you mad. 

The dedication and effort they give you, the affectionate praises they shower you in, combined with the pleasure they’re giving you it drives you closer and closer to your high. And they know. The way your body tenses, the uneven heave of your breasts, and your wimpers getting louder and louder: you’re so close. 

One of Chifuyu’s hands is wrapped around your throat, gently applying the tiniest of pressure, while his other hand slides down your stomach to rub thigh circles over your clit while Baji finally replaces his tongue with two thick fingers. He pushes them past your entrance, and your eyes roll to the back of your skull in ecstasy as he pumps them in and out of your cunt. Building faster and faster, your orgasm takes you by surprise when it finally comes. It washes over you in tidal waves, drowning you in pleasure and the two men in complete madness. In the need to have you. 

You don’t have time to come down from your high as you’re being placed on all fours, Chifuyu taking his place behind you, and Baji to your front tangling his hands in your hair. There’s no need for him to tell you what he wants; you’re already running your shaky hands over his hard length, gently squeezing through the fabric. You briefly struggle with the buttons on his pants, but finally you manage to pull the jeans down and free his cock. God, his dick is gorgeous. Thick and veiny, his tip now angry red from neglect with pearly beads of precum sliding down the shaft. 

Behind you Chifuyu is sliding his cock up and down your slit, taking his sweet time before slotting himself where you really need him. His cock is not as thick, but it’s long and slightly curved, pretty pink and eager to feel your walls clenching around it. Baji’s grip on your hair thightens when he notices you’re paying attention only to his friend. A little jealous and possessive, he taps the head of his cock against your plump lips. 

“Don’t forget m’here too angel, or I’ll assume the effects wore off, and I can’t have that now that I’ve had a taste of you.” 

You look up at him, begging him to stuff your mouth full with your eyes alone. You stick out your tongue for him, as if to show you haven’t forgotten about him at all. Simultaneously, Chifuyu finally sheathes his cock in you—all the way to the hilt, hips flush against your ass—and you moan, eyes crossing from the pleasure. You look obscene, and Baji takes the opportunity to fill your pretty mouth with his cock. 

Oh, and you can’t take all of him in, he’s so thick and heavy against your tongue. You moan around his length, and drool dribbles down your chin. They take you like that, Chifuyu thrusting his hips into your heat, marveling at the warmth and tightness of your cunt, praise dripping from his lips like honey. So good for me baby, just like that. God you take me so well, fuck. 

Baji lets you pick your pace on his length, and you make a mental note of the way his cock twitches every time you take him in deeper, the head of his cock bumping the back of your throat. You enjoy the way he looks like he’s about to crumble under the pleasure, so you do it again and again, taking him down your throat, the walls constricting around his length. Baji’s head falls back, eyes shut in pleasure as you coax him to the edge. 

“Fuck, princess you better fucking swallow, don’t let a drop fall out of your pretty lips, ‘kay?” 

He looks down at you almost lovingly: his pale near-translucent skin slightly flushed, cheeks dusted with pink, his pretty golden eyes now darkened by the lust clouding his mind. You want to confirm you understand him, but his large hands cup the back of your head and you’re no longer in control of the pace. Now he’s fucking into your pliant mouth, every thrust making you gag a little around his girth, tears brimming at the corner of your eyes. It hurts, but it also feels so fucking good—the pleasant sting causing pleasure to course through your veins like a drug. And you’re addicted to the feeling. 

Then you feel him twitch against your tongue, his eyes closing and muscles going rigid as he finally reaches his climax. Thick ropes of sticky sweet cum slide down your throat and you do your best to swallow it all. You don’t even bother thinking about how this is possible considering he’s a ghost, you don’t question it, you just greedily take everything he has to give you. His hand caresses your cheek and he whispers a quiet that’s my good girl before slumping down on the couch in front of you, simply observing as his friend rams his cock into you. 

Chifuyu had gone a little slower while Baji was fucking your throat but now that you mouth was free, he was hoping to hear your pretty little moans again. Now his hands cradle through your hair, and he pulls you up, angling you impossibly close to him, pistoning his hips just the right way so his long cock hits that spot that makes you see white. 

His pace picks up and the praise is replaced with curses. He’s so lost in the feeling of you he almost doesn't notice Baji closing the distance between them and slotting his lips against his. His hips falter for a second, his brain processing what’s happening but his lips respond before his brain can. One hand is holding your hip, as his hips slow down their movement, his other hand cupping his friend's cheek as he kisses him back with so much love, so many unsaid words finally making their way to Baji. 

You can’t see them, but you can hear Chifuyu moan into the taller man’s mouth. It’s shaky, and breathy, almost as if he’s tearing up. Baji’s name is like a mantra on his lips, a plea, a promise. You crave to turn your head and catch even just a glimpse, but you decide against it, not wanting to intrude on the raw and intimate moment between them. 

“Baji...”

“I know. Me too.” 

That’s all the response Keisuke gives as he steals another kiss from his friend and gently nudges his hips in a hint to keep fucking you. So he does, hips gaining back their speed in no time, and you mewl under him, completely dazed from the pleasure. Warm hands sneak down your sides, and his deft fingers find your clit to once more rub tight circles against the sensitive nub, sending waves of pleasure over you. 

“Fuck I can’t move if you clamp around my dick like that, kitten, f-fuck… are you gonna cream all over my cock?” 

He’s bent forward, whispering in your ear each word punctuated with a grunt or a pant. He’s also close but he needs to make you cum first. He needs to feel you cream on him even if it’s the last thing he does. So he staves off his own orgasm in favor of yours, nibbling on your earlobe and whispering filth into your ear, practically begging you to let him feel you come undone for him. 

It doesn’t take long for the coil in your stomach to finally snap, a second orgasm crashing over you and bringing you to high heaven. He doesn’t stop moving, fucking you through your high and the sheer tightness of your cunt as your walls spasm around him is what pushed him over the finish line. With a loud groan his hips lose their rhythm and he paints your insides white with his hot seed, staying sheathed deep inside you in order to keep all of his cum in you. 

Fuck, you feel like you’re on cloud nine, basking in the glory of your orgasm but not for long. As soon as Chifuyu pulls out of you, Baji’s mouth is on your pussy again, lapping away at your folds. You squirm but he holds you tightly in place, dragging the cum from your pussy to your ass, tongue teasingly circling around your puckered hole. 

“B-Baji, no.. you can’t, not the—” 

You’re cut off by Chifuyu crouching down next to the couch and kissing you again. You don’t have time to protest, honestly maybe you don’t even want to protest because Baji’s tongue feels sinfully good against your ass. The green-eyed man barely gives you time to breathe, lips moving hungrily against yours. It’s sloppy, a mess of teeth clashing and tongues moving against each other. He swallows every sweet moan you have to offer while his fingers tweak and twist your nipples. Baji on the other hand is slowly working your ass open, first only with his tongue, the slick muscle pushing past the thigh hole, coating you with spit and cum mixed together. 

His tongue is now replaced by two thick fingers slowly pumping in and out of your ass, making your toes curl and your head spin. You can barely remember how to breathe but you manage to beg for more. To beg for him to go faster, to add more fingers. And he is fascinated by how wicked you are, how pliant and needy, how can he refuse you? He gives you more until you’re sufficiently prepped. 

With a slap to your ass Baji announces his work is done, and they once again switch with the other man. Chifuyu pulls you onto his lap, your back flush against his chest, and his cock, once again hard and ready for you, is prodding at your ass. Baji runs a finger through your folds, gathering your slick and cum and using it to lube Fuyu’s cock, stroking his length slowly, teasingly. Suddenly he spits into your cunt, and the obscenity of it all makes you clench around nothing. You want them, you want them so bad. 

His spit dribbles down your ass, and Fuyu spreads it against your tighter hole, slowly pushing past the muscle. All the prep you received wasn’t enough though, the stretch is burning and bringing tears to your eyes but you know it’ll feel good, you know they’ll make you feel so good, so you bear with it. Baji takes pity on you and bends down to give soft kitten licks to your puffy clit, teasing you and coaxing you to relax, and you do. 

Soon Chifuyu is fully sheathed inside your ass, his fingers leaving bruises on your hips from the tight grip he has on you. Now it was Baji’s turn and you already feel so full you have no idea how you’re going to fit Baji’s thick cock inside you too. As if he can read your mind, he speaks to you softly. 

“Don’t you worry pretty girl, you can take us both, I know you can.” 

He kisses you so fucking gently as his thick cockhead pushes past your entrance, you could just cry. His soft kisses distract you from the burn of the stretch, Chifuyu’s gentle voice in your ear reminding you how good you’re doing, how well you’re taking them.

Finally, finally they’re both inside you and you feel complete. They give you a little time to properly adjust before they both move in and out of you, somehow completely synchronized and in rhythm. God, it feels so fucking good. Your whole body is on fire and you can’t stop the loud moans coming from you, mixing in with theirs. Every time they move inside of you they can feel their cocks rub against each other between your fluttering walls. 

You’re spread open and speared down on both their cocks, now moving fast and hard out of you, and you feel like you’ll explode. Your orgasm approaches, but it feels different, more powerful. You barely have time to warn them, but they keep drilling their hips inside you, battering your insides and hitting all those good spots that make you forget your own name. It builds so fast inside you, the feeling consuming you, and you don’t remember how to breathe. 

Then it hits you. You cum so hard, spasming around their hard cocks and there’s liquid squirting out of your pretty cunt. They’re both stunned, the sight rendering them speechless and motionless. When the initial shock is over it turns them fucking feral. Both are now brutally fucking you, Baji’s practically fucking into your cervix, narrowing down on that spot that makes your eyes roll back, and Chifuyu is biting and marking you again, cock sliding in and out of your ass with no resistance. 

They both know what they want, they want to make you come undone like that one more fucking time. You’re so fucked out; if they weren’t holding you so tightly you would topple over them. You babble incoherently against their skin, begging without knowing what for, but they don’t disappoint, they give you everything. 

The two men kiss once again, hips not faltering once as they bring you to yet another Earth-shattering orgasm, and you squirt again. 

They both know you’re at your limit, so they chase their own orgasms, both cumming almost simultaneously and filling your holes with their seeds. When they pull out, a  copious amount of cum leaks out of your abused holes. Their eyes rake over your body, as if memorizing every curve and dip of your body, the way their cum is leaking down your thighs and soiling the cushions on the couch. 

You’re so spent and tired, you don’t even realize they’ve picked you up and brought you to the bathroom. You vaguely hear water running and assume they’re running a warm bath for you. You’re still in a daze when they wash you, gentle hands caressing your skin and massaging the sore muscles. You just let them take care of you, it’s not like you have the strength to protest anyway. 

They wrap you in blankets and kiss you every chance they get, on your cheeks, nose, lips, temples, everywhere. Someone’s hands are on you at all times, even as they struggle to get you dressed in some warm soft clothes, clumsily pulling the oversized sweater over your head. Then you’re carried back to the bed, where you find yourself between the two of them, tightly wrapped in a warm embrace and you finally allow yourself to really sleep as they quietly watch over you.

3:33AM

You stir in your sleep and feel a hand stroking your cheek. You blink slowly at Baji, who is slightly hunched over you, smiling lovingly. 

“Hey, what’s up? Where are you going?” you whisper.

“I think I’m ready…” 

The sentence knocks the air out of your lungs and suddenly you feel cold. You look up at him, pleading even though you know you don’t have the right to. 

“But, Ba-”

“Keisuke. Call me Keisuke. Plus, I already said my goodbye to him.” He looks over at Chifuyu’s sleeping frame and smiles, but there is a tinge of sadness behind his smile. “Take good care of him for me, yea? I trust you.” 

You’re graced by another one of his fanged smiles, but that doesn’t stop the tears from streaming down your face. His gentle voice doesn’t help with the feeling that’s piercing your chest, sitting in your heart like broken glass. 

“I can’t say goodbye to him again. So, I’m burdening you to tell him. Tell him I’ll be thinking of him wherever I end up. I’ll be thinking of you, too.” 

Another peck to your lips. Another tear rolling down your cheeks. 

You should be happy for him, that he’s able to go on. That he doesn’t have to be stuck here anymore, being nothing more than an observer as life passes by and his friends grow old. 

“Don’t cry sweetheart… You gave me such a precious gift, allowing me to say goodbye, to hug him one more time. To feel you, taste you. I’m the luckiest man alive... Or, wait. Luckiest ghost stuck in this plane of existence?” 

His little joke makes you give a watery laugh. You don’t dare speak because your voice will give out. 

“Don’t cry angel, no point in spilling tears over the dead.” 

As he speaks you notice he’s starting to fade away. You reach up to him, but you can’t touch him anymore, and the realization brings even more tears to your eyes. Your lips tremble, but no words come out as he reaches for you. 

All your life you’ve been in contact with lost spirits, and each time they passed through you it would feel devastatingly cold. But now it feels warm. 

The last thing you see is his smile.

Your crying is enough to wake Chifuyu. His arms quickly wrap around you and pull you close. You can hear the worry in his voice as he asks what happened, but you can’t reply. 

You can’t speak the words.

But he knows. He sighs deeply and kisses your temple, reassuring you that it’s okay. That he knew this was coming.

“He loves you.”

“I know.” 

He holds you close, fingers intertwined with yours. You listen to his heartbeat. He pets your hair and places butterfly kisses down your shoulder. 

“I’m glad I met you. I hope you’ll stay.” 

Every ending is a new beginning. 

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑! I do not own any of the characters or people mentioned in my work. these are works of pure fiction that do not reflect the views, opinions, or actions of any person, real or fictional. Furthermore, all characters I write for [thirsts, drabbles, fics, etc.] are aged up to 21 or older – they are adults with adult characteristics presented and written in adult contexts.

all rights reserved © by maliciouslove. my work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. all fanfics belong to me, please do not copy, translate nor repost the fics or files seen above as this is strictly prohibited.

[joelmillersdumbslut]

I took your matches before fire could catch me

(joel miller x f!reader) 18+ part one

summary: Who knew meeting Joel Miller on a dating app would turn into the world's worst first date? (no outbreak. no use of y/n) rating: 18+ explicit (minors do NOT interact) warnings (for this chapter): age gap (reader is in late 20's, joel is mid 50's), dirty talk, pet names, fingering, dubious consent, p in v sex, unprotected sex, daddy kink, drinking, hand kink, referenced cheating, degradation, angst, orgasm delay/denial. word count: 2.4k a/n: this is my first ever fic, please be gentle :')) a03 link

Another Friday night with a bottle of wine and shitty reality tv to keep you company. It suddenly hits you. Pangs of loneliness. You’re nearly 28 years old and you’re destined for the single life. Relationships never seem to last with you, or at least make it past the honeymoon phase. You take a sip straight from the bottle as you curse the boys who pretend to be men. The ones who’ve fucked you over, the ones who “aren’t ready for a relationship” after declaring their love for you and fucking you for six months, but will change their status and post a picture on Facebook with their arms wrapped around a new woman days after your breakup. When will it be your turn?

You’re soon drunk enough to make questionable decisions. You download that new dating app your friends keep gushing about. Lily. You tap on your phone screen, a picture of a flower loading up with the catchphrase “Are you ready for your love to bloom?” You groan at that alone, tempted to turn right around and delete the app already. But, something inside you tugs at you to give it a try anyway. You upload pictures, some selfies, some with friends, some candids at the beach, at a concert, at the park. Your bio is hard to come up with though. How can you use 400 characters to describe yourself to a stranger? You settle with including your name, a generic title of your occupation, some of your hobbies, and ending it with an open invitation for drinks. There. Easy enough, right?

Now, it’s time to swipe. Apparently when you like someone’s profile, you send them a virtual flower. A lily, to be exact. In order to message someone, they have to send you a lily back. You start to wonder if this app can get any cornier when your first profile appears in the queue. He’s an older man. 56 to be exact. You don’t remember setting an age limit, but you’re intrigued by his handsome appearance. His dark hair appears to be graying, his brown eyes sinking into you from beyond the screen. You swipe through his profile. He has nothing written so you have to guess his personality and hobbies from the pictures alone. There’s a picture of him with a teenage girl. Maybe his daughter? Another one of him playing guitar. Maybe he likes music. Maybe he’s a rockstar. He looks rugged enough to be one. A picture of him sitting at a table in red flannel with a beer in hand, a small smile emerging from behind his facial hair. He’s… hot. And too old for you. Fuck it. You send him a lily. Then you throw your phone down and pace all night wondering if he’ll send you one back.

In the morning, you're matched with Joel.

—

You ask Joel out for drinks. Immediately within your first message. All the dating advice given to you by the Internet says not to wait. Get to know someone as fast as possible for best results. No time to get attached if it doesn’t work out. You’re not much of a texter anyway, so you ask him if he wants to grab some beers at your favorite dive bar. You hate beer. You hate dive bars. But, you’d be willing to drink a thousand pale ales if it meant you got to share this attractive man’s air supply.

Joel simply says, “Yes.”

—

You realize you stand out at the bar. And not in a good way. You wanted to wear something to reflect your personality. So, you picked out a baby pink bodycon dress that stops at the middle of your thighs. You paired it with your favorite white ankle strap heels. Perfect for a night club. Not for meeting a middle aged dad at a dive bar. You decided you’d worry about that later.

You’re early. Like always. You belly up to the bar, unsure of what to order. You assume they don’t have your favorite brand of white wine, so you ask for your dad’s go-to. Whiskey on the rocks. It’s bitter, and you begin to gag as a man comes up behind you, resting his hand on the small of your back. The smell of sandalwood and dirt pierces your nostrils. You turn to see Joel. He’s wearing jeans and that red flannel from his picture.

“I like women who can hold their liquor,” he states, looking you up and down.

“Well, that’s not me,” you wince, eager to change the subject. “You must be Joel?”

You choose to go for a hug, he holds out his hand instead. The two of you stare at each other, reaching a stalemate, the jukebox in this shitty ass bar blasting a country song you hate. You shake his hand. Noticing his fingers are rough, calloused, and thick. Probably from the guitar playing. Maybe he really is a rockstar.

You sit down on the bar stool, crossing your legs as best as you can. It’s probably not wise to flash a man on the first date. Joel requests a beer from the bartender, and the two of you look anywhere but each other. You start to ask questions.

“So. You play guitar?”

“Yeah.”

“What music do you play?”

“All kinds.”

“Okay. What’s your favorite song to play?”

“Don’t know.”

You pound back your whiskey, slam the glass on the counter, and motion the bartender for another.

“Is that your daughter in your picture?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s her name?”

“Sarah.”

“Oh, that’s nice. How old is she?”

“Sixteen.”

“Cool. You a single dad then?”

“Yeah.”

You squint at him. This is worse than pulling teeth without Novocain. You decide to launch the ball into his court.

“So. Is there anything you wanna know about me?”

“Yeah, actually. Ain’t you the one who fucked Tommy? While he was still married?”

Your skin ignited. The wind completely knocked out of you. How does he know about… that? How does he know about the guy you slept with one time in college? And even worse, does he know how much you enjoyed the affair, even though you ruined that guy’s marriage and, ostensibly, the rest of his life?

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about,” you muse, trying to keep your cool.

Joel slams the beer bottle on the counter, its contents flying out the neck and hitting your dress. You stand up, wobbly deer in headlights.

“How do you know?” is all you can whisper.

“Because he’s my brother.”

Tears began welling up in your eyes, your hands shaking. “I was 21, I didn’t know any better.”

“Whatever.” Joel says, turning away from you.

You grab your purse and sprint to the bathroom. Congratulations, you’ve just set a new record for the world's worst first date.

—

You stare in the mirror. Tears streaming down your face. Your makeup is ruined. You’ve accepted that. You’re so angry that this old memory is bubbling up to the surface. The one you’ve tried so hard to push down for the past six years. You met Tommy at a bar while out with your college friends. You noticed the wedding ring, the framed photos on the walls of his living room, but you fucked him anyways. And you left your underwear behind for his wife to find. You enjoyed every moment of it. You even got off to the memories of that one night stand for months after the fact. You’re a goddamn monster. You’ve accepted that.

But, what you can’t accept is that Joel just ruined your favorite dress.

You take a deep breath between sobs, scrounging through your purse for a Xanax. The bathroom door is kicked open, and you turn to yell at the intruder to get out.

But, it’s Joel.

You stare at him with a blank expression while he locks the door behind him. Something you were too distressed to do.

“What are you doing?” you whisper. “Haven’t you had enough from humiliating me in public?”

“No,” he exhales.

Joel quickly shoves you up against the wall. Your purse and its belongings clatter against the dirty floor. You gulp as his left arm leans against the wall, the other reaching up to caress your cheek.

“What was it like?” he asks.

“What was... what like?” you counter.

“Don’t get smart with me.”

You feel like you should be scared. But, you’re not. If anything, you’re super turned on right now while the brother of the man you had an affair with all those years ago begins to fondle you in the bathroom of a dive bar.

Joel’s right hand grabs your breast, he toys with it while staring into your eyes. You can’t help but moan and he pinches harder.

“Answer me,” he growls.

“It was… It was stupid. I was a dumb college girl and what I did was wrong.”

“Then, why’d you do it?”

You swallow. His hand moves down, brushing against your stomach, heading towards the hem of your dress.

“Is this how you treat every girl on the first date? Corner her and interrogate her li-li-like a creep?” you try to sound venomous, but your words are shaky. He notices.

“You can leave any time you want, babygirl.”

The word “babygirl” causes a sensation to ripple through your core. You feel a wetness spreading between your thighs. What the fuck is wrong with you?

You finally answer, “I just wanted his attention. I’ve always liked… Older men.”

Joel pauses, his hand hovering over your thighs. He meets your gaze again.

“Do you now?”

Then he pounces. Before you can even comprehend what’s happening, his fingers are inside your underwear, rubbing your clit. Your head hangs forward as you moan against his touch.

“That what you sounded like when Tommy touched you?”

“N-no,” you sputter, your hips bucking up involuntarily.

“I wanna hear what you sounded like.”

Joel spins you around so you’re facing the wall now, his fingers still groping your pussy. He hikes up your dress and pulls your underwear to the side.

“Wh-why do you wanna hear? You a pervert?” you shoot back at him, but your body betrays you and a gush of wetness secretes from between your thighs.

“You’re a naughty fuckin’ girl, you know that?” Joel mutters in your ear. You hear the sound of his belt unbuckling, something prodding against your back. Something big.

“Someone needs to teach you a lesson,” he adds, his fingers now tracing your entrance.

“For what? Fucking your brother? Sounds like someone’s jealous,” you spit. “Like you can still get it up anyway.”

And with that, Joel’s fingers pound into you, a whine fleeing your throat. It hurts at first, but the enjoyment you’re experiencing is quickly overpowering. You shudder at the way his fingers glide in and out of you at a rapid pace.

“Too quiet,” Joel grumbles, biting at your neck. “I wanna hear what you sounded like.”

“You wanna hear me? I’ll make sure everybody in the fucking bar hears me,” you hiss back at him and begin to wail with pleasure.

You quickly feel a pressure growing inside your lower belly. You feel startled, your hands grasping against the wall for anything to hold onto.

“Did Tommy make you cum like this?” Joel whispers in your ear.

You shake your head violently. How does this man know you’re so close already?

“Wanna hear you, babygirl.”

Fuck. There it is again.

You moan Joel’s name as loud as you physically can while your body tenses up and you ultimately surrender to its release. You glance in the mirror on the other side of the room. Watching yourself get finger fucked by this strange old man in a bar bathroom sends you over the edge. What kind of person have you turned into?

Before you can even catch your breath, you feel the tip of his cock plunging into you. You let out a yelp, and you feel Joel’s hand on top of yours. He’s still covered in your cum, and his fingers interlace with yours.

“If you can fuck Tommy, you can take daddy’s cock.”

Your eyes are nearly bulging out of your fucking skull. You try to distract yourself from how turned on you are, how your pussy is already throbbing for more. Especially at the mere mention of Joel calling himself, “daddy.”

“Daddy, huh? You really are a pervert,” you cough as Joel pushes into you.

“You need to be punished,” is all he says. You feel his cock sitting inside you, but Joel doesn’t move. You start whining, rocking your hips back and forth in an attempt to get friction, something, anything. Joel’s hands are immediately on your hips, forcing you to sit still.

“You ruined my favorite dress, the least you can do is make me cum,” you snap at him, squirming in place.

“And you ruined my brother’s life, the least you can do is take your punishment like a good girl.”

This was the most you’d heard him speak all evening. Was he really this hung up on something that happened years ago? And not even directly to him?

Before you can unleash another quip, a heavy groan escapes Joel as he begins to pump relentlessly. Guess he had enough of trying to punish you too.

“You’re a brat, you know that?” he snarls, his fingers digging into your hips again, bruises already forming underneath your soft skin.

“I always get what I want,” you murmur, feeling the pressure building inside you again. Your body starts clenching down on his, you begin to pant against the wall. You’re so fucking close.

“Don’t think so, babygirl,” Joel grunts, quickly pulling out.

Instinctively, you whine, and are about to call him a two pump chump when you realize he’s cumming all over your back. His sticky essence dripping down your skin. Your pussy throbs, dissatisfied with the neglect he gave you. Turning around, you see his pants already buckled again and he’s taking off his flannel, tossing it at you. Before you can process what is happening, you glance in the mirror realizing there are now not only beer stains, but also cum stains all over your favorite dress. You catch the shirt in your hands and stand there, mouth agape, as Joel leaves the restroom in a huff.

—

[randomfoggytiger]

The X-Files: Son of Egypt

First fic of all time (barring dabbles in my younger years off the internet that don't count.)

All credit goes to @television-overload's intriguing idea-- Samantha adopts and raises William Mulder-Scully (post here)-- with a Prince of Egypt-esque twist~.

Will Van de Kamp couldn’t remember how old he was (and couldn’t begin to take a guess now) or even what he'd said when his mother’s wistful, yearning look stopped him in the middle of a protest. “Your father said that to me, too,” she’d murmured, before quickly walking them away from the conversation. It was then he understood: Samantha Van de Kamp was his mother, Carl Andrew Van de Kamp was his brother, but the man he called “dad” was not his father.  

~~~~~

He had just turned twenty-two when Will was finally allowed to join the raids.

Their base's Consortium quarters had been quiet, eagerly quiet as the Van de Kamp men represented their request. Will may have felt aged in his soul-- a cobweb weighed down with dust and filth and dead parts-- but he was young in their eyes; and against this fading generation, who had seen wars and brokered peace before their species was extinguished, Will had to prove he could handle the great risk, the heavy responsibility, the implied future work this one task would set him up for. That was easily done as he parroted back their secrets-- a young boy with a quick mind and a listening ear could learn a lot, particularly when firmly transplanted from his childhood farm into the middle of a Syndicate compound. And a boy who could turn that threat of exposure into a boon for his lords and masters was a gift to be cultivated and groomed. He was approved. In passing, a few half-remarks (“Perhaps he should have been left on the farm. To know so much of our inner workings and with so much history--”, “It was necessary. There was no other way to keep Mulder from--”) snagged at his mind, vaguely recognizing a few names and situations mentioned before; but his attention was caught by Van de Kamp’s reassuring grip and a few curious members striding over to weigh him in the balance for themselves. Later. 

Later came sooner than expected.

The raid had been going smoothly. It wasn’t even a raid, Will discovered, but a routine drive-by meant to intimidate a specific helper or informant: a preening “you’re still in checkmate” boast. Elevated desperation reeked from their current victim, choking Will as thickly as Van de Kamp and Henderson’s ruthless satisfaction did. The interrogation ended badly: Henderson was knocked aside and Van de Kamp warned away from his charge by the muzzle of Henderson’s gun. Will Van de Kamp had his own weapon out and aimed at the man’s chest before he could become a hostage; but Will could not pull the trigger. The background noise faded out as both opponents faced each other, equal fear in their eyes. Then the man jerked the gun away, swiftly putting a bullet in his own skull.  

Another half-remark haunted Will’s footsteps from the scene. “Can’t change a Mulder,” Henderson hissed under his breath, hand wrapped around his twisted fingers. 

~~~~~

The Consortium appreciated the concept of genius but withdrew from his own. Bad blood on all sides, Will assumed; the dark, overcasting shadow of his late grandfather providing contrast to the spark of his intelligence. Eidetic memory was a negative in this den of bloated jackals, gluttoned as they were on easy power and declaring victories when they hadn't even fought wars (though against whom or what no one could point to.) 

When Van de Kamp had told the family they were moving permanently on-base, everyone had assumed it was because Andrew had caught the Syndicate's attention. Cunning was prized by a group who had to lick their own wounds one too many times; and Will’s older brother had it in spades. It was ridiculously easy for him to spin anything to his advantage with everyone except Will-- the two brothers knew each other too well for those games to be ended between them in anything other than a fight, a good laugh, and another adventure. Andrew's harsher struggles trying to live up to his grandfather's legacy in the Consortium was harshly contrasted by Will's greater negligence in the name of freedom; and both brothers grew closer and further away as the group's requirements necessarily pushed and pulled at their relationship. There was love, Will knew; but suspicions this intense could only be dealt with alone.

“What’s eating at you? We all don’t take that first shot, it doesn’t mean--” 

“Teach me to hack in, not get caught.” 

Another tussle, another patch up, another bargain.

Will only gained fringes of information from slipping into those dangerous territories (most of the information having been kept offline since an incident in 1995, he gleaned); but two important pieces were worth the risk: former Special Agent Fox W. Mulder (recently exonerated) had continually entangled himself in Syndicate business while on a madcap search for his sister; and that sister was Samantha Mulder. Samantha Mulder, Samantha Van de Kamp. 

He had to find those files. 

~~~~~

It took longer than Will was willing to admit to recall where Van de Kamp stored his important documents, cds, and drives. Nocturnal adventures were not unusual for him, even with a mother who quaked with worry and a father who quietly guided him back to his room any time after 10 PM. With the tiniest flashlight he could find in one hand (being invisible was an essential skill to survive when surrounded by betrayals layered with suspicions) and a phone in the other, Will picked his way through the attic, recognizing various names or codes from his notes. Eyes growing strained in the darkness, he finally found a promising box: folder piles, papers filed together, pictures, notes… the X-Files. Or copies of them.  

Will flipped around, brusquely set aside, and grabbed for stack after stack until he found his mother’s file. Although she was younger in this photo than any in the house, they still reassuringly shared the same nose (pinched at the bridge, widening out at the tip.) For a brief moment he wondered what his uncle’s nose looked like; but the word “Found” arrested his attention. Everything froze with him in shock, coming back to life only after he sputtered on a choked, belated gasp. Closed… found… 2000… died…starlight. Died. 

He clutched as many files and cds as he could; then a box of them; then set everything aside, shaking, as he ruthlessly sorted between importance and paramount importance. Remaining undetected was the goal: it wouldn’t matter how much evidence he collected if he were caught. 

~~~~~

Uncle Fox, Will discovered, was a fascinatingly transparent opponent to the Syndicate. He'd never hidden his motives or intentions, often defying the shaved-down FBI report regulations to get "the Truth" out-- conferences, interviews, even an odd media appearance (Cops was one of the notes he underlined.) The smaller, more humanizing details of his life were gathered through safer searches, having been expunged from the Consortium record for their unimportance. Special Agent Fox Mulder (Uncle Mulder) was always accompanied by his partner, Special Agent Dana Scully. And, fittingly he assumed, when Will saw them both for the first time it was together: his uncle’s wide smile and her serious frown captured on-site of one of their cases. 

Former Special Agent Dana Scully was still being monitored by her enemies (likely a more indirect way to monitor her former partner): now a doctor at an Our Lady’s Sorrow hospital, her hair was longer and her face relatively unchanged, if the newest articles about her work were to be believed. It was a short leap from those articles to the sensationalism rags about her past, and an even shorter distance from that to tumbling into revelation after revelation: exoneration in 2008, fleeing the law with her partner in 2002… and adopting-out her son, also in 2002. William Mulder-Scully.

The thought flitted and was brushed aside; then slammed back with ringing clarity. Will scrambled for baby Mulder-Scully’s birthday and breathed a sigh: he was born in 2001. Five years too young to be himself, but a cousin nonetheless. He hoped wherever the boy was that it was far from where he was. 

But “Closed… found… 2000… died.” wouldn’t leave his mind. Samantha Mulder was buried in North Carolina with a Teena Mulder; and, to Will’s shock, was briefly joined by Uncle Mulder himself for three months. The files he had on hand confirmed the public report, which left him shaken and reeling.

Closed… found.. 2000… died…. Resurrected? 

And if closed, found, 2000, died, resurrected was a possibility, then there was an equal chance that born, adopted, given a new identity could be true as well.  

A frantic, thorough, and looping search confirmed it: the Will Van De Kamp born to Samantha Van de Kamp existed only after William Mulder-Scully was adopted out. Thinking back, Will couldn’t personally prove his existence after his alleged birth in 1996. The life they lived had never allowed for natural curiosity or too many questions with silence so easily bought and paid for. Until now, he assumed “the work” was dangerous and fearfully weighty, something to be talked of obliquely or not at all. Now he wondered what sort of kingdom he and Andrew were being raised for. 

~~~~~

Clones and hybrids and tortured children and harvested women and broken men. 

That was their empire. 

His mother, a tool of the Project. Carted out against her knowledge and against her will for her father’s (her creator's) means and goals, paraded before a brother she thought she had and married to a man that may or may not know she was inhuman. A string of children lost and born and dead before Andrew survived to carry on her creator's legacy. Complicit in the lie of Will's birth and parentage.   

His brother, a tool of the Project. Elevated as its prince, honed to a weapon, and all-but-in-writing handed the keys of the Conspiracy. Immune before immunity was no longer required. Cunningly grasping for that power and for Will, unable to keep both but refusing to lax his grip all the same. 

The Project: fruitless lies upon lies that saved no one, having merely benefitted from two opposing alien factions’ war and stalemate. Bullies left with too much aimless power and ashes at their feet. 

Will knew he needed to leave. Soon. Immediately. 

~~~~~

Andrew was furious Will was leaving without warning and almost without a goodbye. Their ensuing fight was left unresolved-- perhaps forever-- with the punctuating slam and screech of an angry driver venting his pain on the road. Will wondered if his family was doomed to be continually torn apart; and if Andrew would ever start or never stop looking for him.

His mother, Samantha, simply stared, silent tears marking the many years she'd chosen ignorance over truth. A soft then more desperate hug said everything for her; and she quietly slipped into the backroom, giving him time to grab what he needed and leave. 

Van de Kamp barged in before Will left, breathless with pain. He, too, was silent; and he, too, allowed his son to leave. 

Will knew all three wouldn’t betray him; but how much of that was motivated by love, loyalty, or a twisted sense of duty he couldn’t say. 

~~~~~

Doctor Dana Scully was easy to locate but harder to follow, the Consortium’s search for him making it nearly impossible at first. Her frown was still serious and her hair was still long, but her spark was gone. He could only watch this new mother from afar, drifting in her wake-- hungry as she ate, parched as she drank, exhausted as she slept. He couldn’t approach her, the bereft ache in his last mother’s eyes always on his mind, foiling his best attempts to forget. Perhaps former Special Agent Dana Scully and he were not meant to be, or perhaps meeting her in person would turn her from a figment into flesh. Until he could be certain, he waited. 

Former Special Agent Fox Mulder was nowhere to be found. 

It was a week before Dana Scully led the way to her second home, a ramshackle abandoned house in the sticks. Will knew about this property, even came to scout it out once; but it looked dead from the road, and he’d hurried back to his previous task. By now, he should have learned that appearances are deceiving. 

He left his car in the woods, slinking up the porch easily by crouching under the tall grass. The house was still dead-- no hum from the power, no creaking of the pipes, and no shuffling from the steps inside.  Half remarks, easy to recognize from a lifetime of training, trickled outside; and Will inched closer to catch them.   

Dana Scully’s voice-- harder to hear from where Will was positioned-- was softer than he’d imagined, especially when contrasted with the solemn expression that settled perpetually on her face. “...out here… this house… alone.” 

“Well, you know me, Scully,” Special Agent Fox Mulder’s (Uncle Fox, Mulder, Father's) voice rang out, falsely cheerful. “You predicted how this’d go years ago.”

Will caught a mournful murmur. 

“‘Catatonic schizophrenia’, I believe you called it.”

“Mulder.” He heard that loud and clear: no nonsense endearment. Amused and trying not to be.  

“Though I think our story ended better than theirs. Though not by much.” 

Although Dana Scully’s (Scully's) heels clicked close, Will could tell she was only drawing closer to Agent Mulder (Mulder.) There was a long, deep silence, a few deep reassuring breaths, and what sounded like affectionate ruffling. 

“You’ll find your way back, Mulder. I believe that.” 

Retreating from this intimate moment between two sad, broken people, Will felt fifteen years old for the first time in his false twenty-two. 

~~~~~

Will didn’t leave Mulder’s house. He spent the next week or two losing track of time in the rhythm of Mulder’s world: quiet except for the wind moving through the trees, the grass, or slamming up against the lifeless windows. Food was easy to forget when he subsisted on various nonperishables; and the hours were whittled away plowing through various copies of unredacted files. Low profile didn’t seem to have existed in Mulder and Scully’s orbit, with more and more press and eyewitness accounts to corroborate or validate the various outlandish claims they’d both signed their names to. 

It also gave him time to think. Losing his family was concrete and understandable even if it was gut-wrenching and grueling. But to have stripped him of his identity, of so large a factor as his age, was as baffling as it was appalling. Will had lived through each milestone, had graduated, had taken other secondary education classes and courses; and now he was left to second-guess everything he thought he knew. Tutelage tempered with lies under the Syndicate could mean anything: how effectively was he taught? Did he even graduate? Likely not, since a fifteen year old brain could not fit the knowledge required for a twenty-two year old collegiate. Had the Consortium fallen so far that they were sloughing off a piecemeal education on their next generation, not caring if they learned so much as they obeyed? If so, the whole structure would collapse within a generation; but then, what structure did they have left to uphold? The selfish men who bought and sold for power were dying out, and the next generation might be willing to take what they could from the scraps. But then why--

And underneath all of those thoughts was the one Will was trying to isolate from but kept finding over and over in the files, typed up plainly in Dana Scully’s neat sentences: “...if it’s only by knowing where he’s been that he can hope to understand where he’s going, then I fear Agent Mulder may lose his course; and the truths he’s seeking from his childhood will continue to evade him, driving him more dangerously forward in impossible pursuit.” 

~~~~~

Mulder stepped out of the treeline, gun in hand. 

Will realized, as he stared at this man chiseled by regrets and promises, that he had been disappointed in his father a week or more ago. He’d wanted to respect him, had even thought he loved him in a way; but had still withdrawn from the concreteness of his father's weakness, just as his father had. The Mulder standing before him was every inch the former Special Agent Fox Mulder he'd read about: danger in his stance, fire and fairness in his eyes.  He’d never met Fox Mulder, but Will was glad to have him back. 

Mulder stopped his string of succinct commands when his eyes fell on the files, breath catching as he looked erratically from one copy to the next before flying back up to Will’s face. There was fear in his eyes-- good fear, alive fear-- and his words caught a few times before he asked, “William?” 

Fox Mulder, Mulder. Dana Scully, Scully. Will Van de Kamp, William Mulder-Scully. He could live with that. 

There wasn't anything to say, so William did what Samantha Mulder had taught him, letting his smile say everything for him. Mulder's face split into the exact same, wide-open beam: he, too, had taught William in his absence. And William knew-- he just knew-- that Scully had passed on her ability to read the layers of emotions dancing across his father's neutral expression. And he could live with that, too.

William watched his father's smile slip as he swallowed back crashing emotions. "I tried looking for you, years ago. When you were a baby. And later, when...." Mulder paused, miserable in his failures.

There was only one thing left to say. "You did."

~~~~~

Acknowledgements: Thank you to @television-overload for coming up with the original idea and for naming Will's older brother. ;)))

Thank you to @ghostbustermelanieking and @o6666666 for creating short, beautiful AU fics that ultimately helped me flesh out the format for this one.

Thank you (in no particular order) @baronessblixen, @welsharcher, @agent-troi, @dd-is-my-guiltypleasure, @suitablyaggrieved, @pianogirlxf, @samucabd, @herdingcats12, @cecilysass, @amplifyme, @slippinmickeys, @enigmaticdrblockhead, @annablume, @spidey-is-tired, @two-microscopes, @spidey-is-tired, @mariaann, @chavisory, @medicaldoctordana, @ibringyouasong89, @cyb3rpeach, @mindibindi, @two-birds-alone-together, @invidiosa, @jessahmewren, @living-in-unreality, @mollybecameanengineer, @tossingmyglossymane, @demon-fetal-harvest, @settle-down-frohike, @storybycorey, @thescullyphile, @scullys-scalpel, @perpetually-weirdening, @teenie-xf, @captainsugarcane, @frogsmulder, @paperheartsarts, @unremarkablehouse, @cutemothman, @my-spookybunnies, @lindz-dude, @sonictacocat, @freckleslikestars, @kiivitaja, @today-in-fic and more for always being willing to engage with my work (and enjoying when I engage in yours.)

Thank you to every single one of the fic writers out there. Your work nudged me gently along to this point; and without your leaps I wouldn't be making these steps.

And thank you to each and everyone of my mutuals and lurkers-- keep on keepin' on~!

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

[nimata-beroya]

20 Questions For Writers

This was sitting on my notifs for a few days and i finally took the time to do it. Thank my darling @takadasaiko for the tag!! 💕💕

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I have 88 works in total, 31 of which are for Star Wars.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

574,873 words.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently, I'm only writing for Star Wars. But I used to write for Arrow and Supergirl, and ASoIAF, Dark-Hunters and Chronicles of Nick are in standby. I'm waiting for right motivation to come back to any of the last 3.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

I'm only talking about Star Wars fics here...

Kadala (The Mandalorian) [and 4th place in most kudos of all my works]

Rough Awakening (The Bad Batch) [and 5th place in most kudos of all my works]

Welcome to Yavin IV (Rebels)

An Explosive Situation (Rebels)

Rescue on Ryloth (The Bad Batch)

And the the rest of my all-time fics with most kudos are

Take Your Breath Away (Arrow)

Undisclosed Desires (Arrow)

Made For You (ASoIaF/Game of Thrones)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try my best, but sometimes I forget, and then it's been weeks and months since I got the comments that I'm embarrassed to reply them after so long. Even though, I think it's important that a writer let the reader/commenter that they appreciate it, even if it's with a simple "thank you" or an emoji. I know I'm being a hypocrite here since I fail to do what I preach, but it doesn't make it less true.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I think that would be Drifting, because it's kind of open ending, left to be interpreted, so it could end however the reader wants. Although, I left an author's note at the end saying what's my preferred ending, which always will be inclined to the happy side.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

High Above the Ground because is the happy ending i want for Commander Fox and Riyo Chuchi. They deserve only the best!

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

No, not really. I've gotten only 1 stupid message of someone criticizing a fic, but that was years ago when I still posted on FF dot net. The joke was on the reader because I moderated all the comments there so I just deleted it and nobody saw it but me. Honestly, I just laughed about it cuz their argument was just stupid.

9. Do you write smut?

I do, all kinds -from the most tame thing to the most perverted. But I used to wrote way more in my old fandoms, especially for Arrow. I think for Star Wars I've written just 1 or 2 smutty fics, and tamed at that.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I've tried a couple of occasions but never finished them. I'm not opposed to them obviously, but I do think the combination of fandoms has to be just right to work. Or at least, when it's me doing the writing.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes! Many, many years ago in the first fandom I ever wrote for. It was awful and hated it! You see, this was in the stone age of the internet when fandom specific sites abounded and not everyone had an account on FFnet yet (and Ao3 was not even a dream). The site I published on was split in 2 sections because the ships war in the fandom was bloody and ruthless, so to avoid the slaughter, I kept myself in my preferred side. But one day, a friend who read fic on both sides told me that someone stole my fics. Avoiding to get caught, the person who did it published them under a pen name that was almost exact to mine, she only added a period at the end, which could easily go unnoticed. Oh, and she interchanged characters names so it'd fit the other ship.

At first, my friend thought I had posted them but she knew I'd never write for that ship, like ever. In the end, it turned out that I wasn't the only one who had being plagiarized. Several people ON BOTH SIDES were. Thankfully, the person was caught and banned, but we almost burned the site down because of the whole shitshow.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

By me, yes, several. All into Spanish (my mother tongue). By others, not that I know of.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Yes! A couple of times for different fandoms, and I loved it. I hope I'll do it again. The thing is that you need to find the right partner for it, or it can be a nightmare.

14. What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

I don't appreciate this question, let me tell you. It's hard to choose. But I think I have to go with Olicity. I love them still (even if the show ending ruined it for me). Close second would be Braime (and I'm glad that there's still hope for them on the books, because as usual the show fucked them so but sooooo bad)

And as Star Wars specific, I don't think anyone will be surprised if I say it's Kalluzeb, right 🤣 They're my babies and I adore them!

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Anything for Arrow or Supergirl. I sworn off those fandoms after their respectively awful endings.

No promises, but there's still hope for all if my unfinished works for Star Wars 😅

16. What’s your writing strengths?

Coming up with ideas. So, so many ideas. All the time and I want to write them all.

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

Finishing writing the above-mentioned ideas. I tend to splay myself too much when I'm writing, and it takes me forever to get to the portion I really want to write (usually the idea that sparked the whole writing process) and I lose steam. That's why I have so many unfinished WIPs. I wish they'd write themselves.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

It's ok if used sparingly. A word here, a phrase over there is fine, but if a wall of dialogue that the reader needs to scroll down to the notes or click on a tooltip to find out the meaning it's the worst!!! A better solution for a writer that really needs/wants to have a whole conversation in another language for plot reasons or whatever, then all they need to do is to say once that the characters are talking in the other language and put the dialogue in the same language they've been writing the rest of the narrative and in italic.

The characters who don't speak the language won't understand what's being said, but the reader will and their reading will be more pleasant and fluid.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

An Argentinian show called Floricienta. A modern retelling of Cinderella.

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

I don't like this question either! All my fics are my babies! How do you want me to choose?!! There are so many I'm proud of. I guess I'll point the most recent one: Feed Me Poison, Fill me till I Drown I really like how this story is coming along. It's not done yet (what else is new? 😅) but what's coming is so so good!

Tagging (no pressure): @renee561 @thecoffeelorian @genericficerblog @airlockfailure @mistr3ssquickly @insertmeaningfulusername @fanfictasia

[kitsuani]

Strangers. {Yamada Saburo x Reader}

Description: 

A fic in which Saburo is nervous to meet his online friend and finds himself unlocking the “true route” to his game. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Tags: fluff, reader is saburos age okay!! theyre both baby!!, not beta'd, not edited, gender neutral reader, hypnosis mic/hypmic x reader, saburo yamada x reader, saburo yamada

Word Count: 1,132

A/N: Written on: April 9, 2021 

So one of my sisters was having A Time ™, as a fourteen yr old girl does, and she absolutely ADORES Saburo so I wrote him with her in mind as a little pick me up; figured it was cute and decided to share it! (my sister was around saburo's age when i was asked to write this!!! so it is assumed that YOU :pointing at viewer emoji: are close in age too!!!! mentioning bc he is fairly young compared to other characters!!)

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

He knew he looked like a wreck. Saburo kept looking over his shoulder towards the café door, unsure of who he was even supposed to be anxiously waiting for; he was a bit sweaty and he knew there were dark circles under his eyes, because he certainly did not get any sleep beforehand. 

Saburo turned towards the pixel world to make friends; it came with some danger and a lot of initial uncertainty, but he’s found that some of the faces behind the 1’s and 0’s were much more interesting and genuine than those he could see in person. He’s found one in particular though, that he seemed to have clicked with well. 

He didn’t know their real name—unless the name they actually gave him was real—and he didn’t know what they looked like nor did he know what they sounded like. They were his age, as far as he knew at least, and lived around here. He couldn’t help but be so suspicious because... well... who knew? You could be anyone on the internet, after all; he wasn’t even Saburo the moment he sat in front of his screen, so he knew just how easy it could be to lie. 

But, he trusted them. He spent months talking to them, creating a connection that felt surreal, like he was on cloud 9 each time he saw their name pop up on any of his screens. He’s always wanted someone he could always be with, and it was always easy to be with them. He didn’t have to hold his tongue or change how he was—they either threw the sass right back or laughed. It was a strange feeling, one mixed with subtle anxiety, excitement, and... something else. He didn’t want to admit that he had actual feelings for them, because it would be ridiculous to do so. If he pretended these feelings didn’t exist, he wouldn’t have to face how funny he thought they were, or how caring, or how supportive, or smart, or-- 

He fidgeted with his phone, simply swiping between the different home pages aimlessly, waiting for them to text him back. Saburo tensed up each time his phone went off, only sighing in response as he swiped away his brother’s messages since they weren’t the ones he was waiting for. He didn’t tell them because he didn’t want to be treated like a child, though he knew the danger he was putting himself in meeting this person. It never really hit him that despite feeling as though he knew this person his entire life because of how easy they were to be with, he was about to come face to face with a stranger. They could be twice his age! They could be some scary looking thug! They could ACTUALLY be a thug! Or, maybe even something worse! The sudden realization started to mess with his head and caused him to start getting up, ready to leave; his phone went off. 

‘I’m here! You said the café across from the flower shop, right?’ 

Saburo’s pulse skyrocketed. He started to find it hard to breathe as he sat back down, semi-curling himself into a ball in a panic. He could no longer hear the hustle and bustle of the café, only the overwhelming sound of his heartbeat in his ears. It was happening—oh god, what did he get himself into? He was so excited to finally meet the person he considered his best friend, the one he found himself crushing on—it was going to be such a mind-blowing moment that he was sure his heart would feel as though it were a fireworks show. His heart felt like it was going to give out, instead. With shaky hands, he texted back. 

‘Yeah. I’m in the far corner.’ 

He could hear footsteps approaching. They sounded light and bouncy, a mix of what seemed like a bubbly step and potential nerves—a good sign, he thought. He closed his eyes tightly, fearful of what he was going to see if he opened them. He didn’t even think about the fact they knew nothing of his age or appearance either—oh god, what if they didn’t like him? What if they judged him? What if-- 

“LBRo?” his online name was called out by a sweet-sounding voice, “It’s you, right?” 

“Y-yeah...” he managed to open his eye for just a peek at them, and was in shock by what he came face to face with. 

They had the most beautiful smile. They were definitely around his age, and the giggle that came from them was angelic. He could feel his face heating up—he knew he was red—and he tensed his body to stop from shaking. Biting the inside of his cheek, he fidgeted with his hands underneath the table, unable to keep his eyes on them for long without losing his breath. They were even more attractive than he always pictured; they were even more perfect than his imagination and he didn’t even know it was possible. He suddenly felt painfully shy. 

“I’m (Y/n)!” their smile carried through their voice, “Please tell me you have a better name I can call you--”  “Oh,” he accidentally made eye contact with them and turned a darker hue of red, “Saburo.” 

“Saburo!” They playfully kicked his shin beneath the table, making him instinctively give them an unamused pout, “There you are; you didn’t seem like yourself. Feeling shy?” 

“No!”  

“Mighty defensive, don’tcha think?” 

He tried hard not to smile, but it was impossible to hold it back. Within an instant, he gave a genuine laugh and smile to follow suit. He continued to deny his shyness until (Y/n) playfully brushed it aside, changing the conversation to the new board game they saw announced earlier that day, immediately touching on some of his favourite things. Saburo couldn’t even remember why he had been so afraid just moments before. 

They talked for hours without realizing. They got into such a comfortable, effortless groove of talking about anything and everything, revealing things about themselves, and playful banter. It felt so easy, he would have described their presence as home, if he could without blushing. They were much cuter than he ever expected, and his heart certainly could not take the way they smile at him from across the table, looking at him through their lashes and playfully—flirty? --kicking him lightly, playing footsie. Like being hit by a truck, Saburo became well aware of just how large of a crush he developed on the person sat across from him, and stiffened up instantaneously. Their laughter played like music to his ears. 

Nothing warned him that the people you meet on the internet may turn into the future love of your life. 

[aethon-recs]

HP Rec Fest, Day 12 ❄️

@hprecfest daily prompts running through Dec 31. Goal is to find lesser-known or underrated works, even by well-known authors, to feature here.

*

Day 12: A WIP you're following

Lover's Spit by @blogalinda & @k3uuu (E, 123k, WIP)

Summary: Following his father's arrest on a dull hot Sunday in North Yorkshire, 10-year-old Tom Riddle becomes a dark internet sensation. If Harry Potter listened to his father, he would never speak to Riddle again. But eight years after the arrest, an unexpected and painful encounter leads Harry to reconsider events — and arrive at a conclusion all his own. Why I rec it for this prompt: This is one of the most original and remarkable WIPs I'm currently following. In this coming-of-age story set in the early days of internet culture, what stands out is the gorgeous writing, the themes covered, the rich & detailed characterization, which are nothing like I've come across in anything in the Tomarry ship before (or in fanfic at all, really), and yet it works so well and is so in-character in this modern AU setting.

Revolution of Configured Stars by @tollingreminiscentbells (E, 94k, WIP)

Summary: In a Voldemort Wins AU, Harry Potter was spared, and enters his seventh year at Hogwarts wanting to do Arithmancy research and keep his head down. However, after a chance encounter, it looks like it may not be so simple. Marvolo Gaunt seems to have his eye on Harry. The trouble is, Harry has no idea why. Why I rec it for this prompt: This WIP has been updating on a regular basis since Sept, and not only is the plot rich & complex and keeps you hooked, all the sexy tension building between Harry and Voldemort is so lush, and gets better with every update. The writing style is also very sophisticated and an absolute delight to read, with how thoughtfully the story unfolds in everything from the worldbuilding to the interactions between different characters.

*

Running list of recs:

Day 1: Favorite under 5k | Such a Noble Villain Day 2: Comfort Fic | In Somno Veritas | Ouroboros Day 3: Podfic | a taste so good (i'd die for it) Day 4: Fic with Art | A Soulmate Like You Day 5: A Non-AO3 Fic | The Anti-Midas Day 6: Unreliable Narrator Fic | Anabiosis Day 7: A Canon-Compliant Fic | In Your Soul is Sealed a Pleasure Day 8: A Canon-Divergence Fic | Thirst Day 9: A Rare Pair Fic | dust in your pocket | A Breed Apart Day 10: A Fest Fic | In Your Image Day 11: A Dark Fic | As Portioned from a Whole Day 12: A WIP Rec | Lover's Spit | Revolution of Configured Stars

[cheesycatz]

Salutations!

🐌🎤What is the maximum possible lifespan of malworms?

I'm very curious about it.

Malworms, as I imagine any darkner based on code rather than a physical object would be, are technically immortal in terms of age, but can die or “be deleted” by numerous things.

A malworm's actual average lifespan is barely six months. In their natural environment, below the Surface Web and inside the dark and maze-like caverns of the Deep Web (the private part of the web that encompasses 90% of the internet, including anything from personal private files to the less than 0.01% Dark Web), malworms compete with other malworm species for resources, often killing and eating each other in the process. Malworms are considered such pests that other darkners will gladly kill them before their population can get out of control.

As an invasive species on the Surface Web, malworms still don't live long. While they can multiply quickly and easily find victims at the start, their prey fights back. Whether it's through antivirus robots, the burning of nests, parasite testing kits, tracking trips, evacuation—the malworms are eventually killed. And, if they aren't, they'll eat every last program and starve within the destroyed city they created.

Spamton himself is around 21 years old when the fic takes place (2018), though he'd mentally be considered closer to the middle aged dumpster man we all know and love (HATE GET OUT OF MY HEAD GET OUT OF MY HEAD GET). Aside from malnourishment prolonging the time it took Spamton to reach adulthood, he gradually grew at a healthy rate from 10 ft to around 16 ft over 10 years.

Malworm growth plateaus past the 10 year mark. Their bodies keep regenerating cells and producing new eggs and venom indefinitely. However, their ability to successfully infect a victim typically declines, especially decades after their prime. Depending on what a malware program originally exploited, modern computers can easily detect and delete them, and other old malware can't even run on newer computers. So, older malworm infections are easy to detect, and sometimes can even be cured with modern medicine.

Some malworms do remain active, even 20 years later. Most notably is MyDoom, a 2004 computer worm widely considered the most destructive malware in history, which is still active to this day. I think it's much more exciting if Spamton's species falls under this group. The BIGSHOT malworm's whole thing is that it was an extremely destructive email worm that was forgotten because of its lack of any surviving records—whose to say it couldn't still steal all your passwords and brick your PC if someone actually could find a copy?

(One record does still exist. An unlabeled 3.5” floppy disk with a thousandth of a gigabyte of storage, buried in the dust of a cramped closet, and hidden within the obsolete computer room of a rural village's library. A poisoned apple, waiting for the bite, forgotten until the end of time.)

[olderthannetfic]

I'm in a fandom with a lot of virulent antis (surprise surprise, it's heavily dark source material and I don't know why they're here at all) and a lot of the pairings that aren't the main badwrong ship on ao3 now have DNI tags on them for shippers of the badwrong ship. I guess not enough to break the TOS (no direct threats?), but still full of stuff like "x shippers DNI", "get help you freaks", "You're disgusting" etc etc.

Its just... so frustrating. Like that's a pretty red flag for me that a fic probably is going to be in an immature writing style so I probably won't read it anyway, but every time I see it I just.... heave a big sigh. Why these people are in this fandom or on Ao3 at all I'll never know. Its not even helpful - the tags are there to help describe the fic, if I didn't want to see that kind of content I could just... avoid content that's tagged that way. Why even add that to a fic that's not even about those characters at all?

Honestly, my real question is.... Olderthannetfic, how do you do it?

I feel like I do it "right", in fandom, or at least I try. I always just block and move on. I don't follow the discourse where I can help it and block a lot of the relevant tags. I keep to a small circle of folks that have the same fun brainrot I do and have fun, generally. But this kind of stuff still slips through the cracks in a way that's unavoidable if you're ever online at all. To be honest, it still hurts a lot to see each time, and be reminded that some people seem to literally want me dead over reading a story. And I can't help the doubt and the self-flagellation that creeps in. Despite my best efforts, and all my research, and living to the ripe rip van winkle tumblr fandom spinster age of 27... I sometimes have a moment where I think, maybe I really am a freak or a degenerate, or an evil predator waiting to bloom.

Do you ever experience this? Does this feeling ever go away, or at least dull to a more bearable exasperated eye roll? Do you ever see these anti idiots grow up or grow out of this mindset? Is it just a matter of time, age or experience? Is there a point at which you felt like it affected you less, or perhaps it didn't affect you like that at all? Is there a secret to navigating it calmly and with confidence? Do you have any advice to give in the, er, art of not giving a fuck?

--

Why would I quail at a stupid child on the internet after coming out as queer when I was 14 in the 90s?

I grew up with very open-minded, supportive family aside from my mother's conviction that BDSM was something people were into because they'd been abused. Even then, I remember privately snickering because I was super kinky, and wouldn't that upset her given this silly world view?

I had it easy compared to most in the 90s, but I still saw a lot of nonsense, like good old Mom on the topic of kink or murders in the media. But I also spent a lot of time reading educational sexuality books that debunked myths about fantasies and kinkiness.

Maybe a firmer grounding in sexuality stuff would help you? Nancy Friday's work on women's fantasies is a common starting point. I'm partial to The Topping Book, which is full of "it's great to be a top, actually" and not "you only do it for the sub".

Getting older does usually help though. Most 20-somethings are insecure in their sense of self. Middle age is when people's fucks generally run out, and that only continues to grow. Watch a stupid child go after some 60-something zine writer lady. She's going to laugh in their faces. Some people remain insecure forever, I suppose, but not anybody who had to woman up to be in fandom in the first place.

It's not just that these little idiots are wrong about us being predators: it's that they are the morally degenerate ones for spreading the psychological equivalent of "vaccines cause autism" or "Jews want to steal your Christian babies".

This idea that The Bad People are infiltrating our minds with their propaganda overlaps heavily with anti-semitic conspiracy theory right wing fundie nutjob ideas, and yet these young fools claim to be pro-queer and pro-civil rights. They're an embarrassment to any progressive movement and it disgusts me.

When someone goes "You're not a Christian, so you're going to hell", do you have a moment when you wonder?

Because that's the level of absurdity here.

Even if they don't bully, even if they don't include threats in their DNIs, the fact that they're spreading myths about sexuality that have been thoroughly debunked many times means they're doing something unethical, anti-intellectual, and anti-science.

I'm not afraid or guilty. I'm embarrassed for them.

--

Do antis grow out of it? Yes, frequently.

They are—either literally or functionally—victims of right wing Christian cults. They have the same trajectory of realizing they've been had and slowly trying to work through the raging guilt and religious trauma.

I have limited patience but some sympathy. Like other victims who were indoctrinated to hurt people, escaping the cult is hard. It means not only giving up your false sense of safety and all of your friends but facing what you've done.

[artemisdesari-blog]

You know what I miss? I miss "don't like, don't read" being the primary accepted attitude to fanfic spaces. I miss a time when people had to actively look for the things they did and did not want to see instead of an algorithm shoving echo chambers of like minded folks at us until that's all that we can see and hear. I miss the times when people looked at their internet space and curated it into what they wanted it to be rather than being told by the machine what it should be.

I miss people understanding that while fiction may reflect our reality, it only affects our reality if we allow it to. I read my first sex scene in a book when I was 13 (my mum read the first third, got bored and let me read it, the sex popped up about two thirds in), I had already encountered themes of SA in mainstream media before that, not to mention torture and murder just being an obliquely referenced thing in even kids programs at the time. I routinely read books which featured war and carnage, child endangerment and even heavily implied child assault/abuse, relationships with massive age gaps, abusive relationships, implied incest (by the time I was 10 everyone in my year group at school knew the story of Oedipus, and anyone who went through the Greek and Roman mythology stage got an eyeful of all of it, frankly), and relationships where the power imbalances were huge. Fanfic authors may explore the darkest sides of human nature, but mainstream media has been doing that for FAR longer than we have. If anything, in exploring it fanfic authors have also called it out far more than mainstream media does (looking at you, romcoms)

I miss people understanding that you cannot hurt a work of fiction: the characters aren't real people. Some of my earliest exposure to fanfic was in the early days of FFN, and then scouring the internet for fic which had not made it onto that central hosting site. Those were the wild west days, the days when people treated fanfic like published books and gave you a summary and not a lot else. At the risk of sounding like an eighty year old lady: you youngins today have no idea how good you have it. The tagging systems on AO3 (in particular) make it difficult to run into things you would prefer not to read about unless the writer has opted not to tag. Sometimes that's a simple oversight, sometimes it isn't, but most will tag for the most common triggers if they feature. And, quite honestly, if they don't you can ask them to tag it, but the back button also exists and should be used.

I miss people understanding that inter-generational friendships are actually pretty common and normal. I started work at 16, I made friends in my work place who were anything from 5 to 40 years older than me. I had my work mum, who watched my back when the early morning customers got a bit too flirty with my 16 year old self, my manager who was 12 years older than me but who gave me advice about boys my age and who could talk Star Trek and all other sci-fi with me for hours and who told the idiot who was 7 years older than me who asked me out to back off when I said no. They taught me a lot about life and navigating the world as an adult that I didn't learn from my parents or teachers or peers. They taught me about communicating with people older than me, and strangely about talking to people younger than me too.

I miss people understanding that the bad guys aren't fascinating because I agree with them. The bad guys are fascinating because they are the bad guy. What is their motivation? Do they even have motivation or are they just like that? There is a reason the bad guys get the juiciest lines. Would I want to encounter Darth Vader, or Hannibal Lecter, or any other popular evil character in a dark alley? Hell no. I wouldn't even want to bump into them in the middle of a busy street on a sunny day, but they are fascinating to read about and watch. They are fascinating to write. That doesn't mean I agree with any of the things their characters do, and I might only be playing with them, but someone else thought them up and imagined all of the awful stuff that they could do first. Why do fanfic writers get absolutely crucified for playing with them, when the creators are left in peace?

Look at it this way: I read IT when I was 14, I did not immediately go out and recreate a few of the more controversial scenes in that one. I read multiple books about 16, 17, 18 year old girls getting into relationships with men old enough to be their fathers, I didn't go out and start looking for a man that old to date. I don't murder and SA and pillage my way through the world no matter how many times it's come up in books and films and tv series. Reading about it doesn't mean I don't understand how terrible it is, but as I said at the start: reality is reflected in our media. How many films have been made about war? How many TV shows that deal with all manner of crimes? How many books that have characters which were abused as children? Or deal with incest?

So, if you really object to all the stuff you see in fanfic, how about you go out there and try to make things better for actual REAL victims, instead of attacking people who are simply writing about an imaginary figure? Especially when some of those people are the victims you claim to be trying to protect. Evil people have always existed, they exist now, they existed 100 years ago, they existed 1000 years ago. They certainly didn't need the internet to inspire them then, and they don't need it now either.

[rainbow-beanie]

I don’t think people talk enough about the aftermath of Danny’s fight against evil!Danny (aka Dan) in ultimate enemy. like dude had just learned that he has an evil double from a future in which he became the most powerful ghost around, who had rid himself of his humanity in order to not feel the immense heartache he felt after his entire family and friends died in an explosion, with which his teacher was talking to his parents about the fact he had copied a very important test. Which had greatly stressed him out, cause it was about what you would want to do when you grow up, and what job and career he would want to pursue in life (this test subject did NOT age well at all)

Now here’s some problems with this, 1: Danny is FOURTEEN YEARS OLD and shouldn’t be worrying about what kinda career he would want as a living when he’s not even old enough to drive a car. This test would have at least been appropriate if he was, say seventeen or eighteen, like around the age he where he would possibly be looking for a job. I understand that times were different when this episode was made, but rationally speaking this test was for sure made for older students, and I don’t think Danny should have been given this test.

2: HE’S HALF GHOST! Like yeah if you could brush off what I had said above and be like “beanie, that’s probably what the school worked back then, no need to get so uptight about an early 2000’s cartoon.” In which I’d say, yeah, I probably am taking this a little seriously, but try telling everyone else in this phantom that who have made wonderfull art and au’s and fics centered around some small crumbs of info from the show and say “you’re taking this too seriously.” And you’d probably get the internet equivalent to a pie yo the face.

Anyways back to what I was saying, sure the school doesn’t know about Danny being a halfa (and neither does every other character besides Danny’s friends and his sister) but my point is that the test asking “what job/career do you want to pursue in the future?” Wouldn’t have possibly made Danny think about the fact that Danny’s basically half dead, and any job or career he would have would be pretty difficult when he constantly has to keep his ghost half a secret for the rest of his life, and that’s even implying he can even age after the incident with the ghost portal (which as we know with Dan, he in fact can keep aging, but even then I think he can only age to a certain point until his ghost genes tell him to stop, like around his late or early twenty’s)

So that’s A LOT of existentialism to give to a child from one simple test, and to further put salt into an already open wound, one of the characters even said that if “you fail the test then you’d have to work at nasty Burger” like what the actual fuck?? Like I know these teachers want their students to succeed in life, but realistically speaking if this type of situation happened in real life (and it most likely did, bless the poor souls that had to endure that.) that’s how you get people taking their own life. Which I know is pretty dark, but you try being happy and chipper after hearing about the possibility that if you failed this ONE test you would be nothing but an ugly stain in the job industry, I would actually cry if I was in that situation.

In short, the test Danny was given was a big part as to why evil Dan was brought into existence in the first place, and the events that happened to have Dan to become who he is is both funny and extremely depressing.