theres four stores I really really really like and I want to archive. One is nsfw so I'll include under the cut. They're all tumblr originals.
1) story about a girl whose classmate has the ability to rewind time. The protagonist is immune and finds it really annoying. Eventually asking for an amulet to stop her power. The girl is humiliated. Turns out the protagonist is the daughter of Satan or something. It's so good
2) Not good at explaining this. It's a situation where protagonist is captured or enslaved and gets like one chance to "outsmart the devil" or whatever. They choose to be bound together until protagonist wishes to leave. Antagonist laughs at the idea and spends centuries making protagonist commit horrible atrocities only until realizing that they are the true prisoner and beg to leave. It's revealed this isn't the first time protagonist has done this
EDIT: Found
3) story about a man who sleeps near a sphinx and answers the riddles correctly until the sphinx befriends it. Eventually the man grows old and the sphinx gives easier riddles out of love. The sphinx protects the man and mourns his loss after his death.
EDIT: Found and found and found (three different versions of the prompt.)
4) Story about like a robot girl who comes home to a present that she is told that she can't open until her gf comes home. She ignores that and the present is a huge monster knot. She puts it on and starts jerking off but gets no release. She realizes she can't remove it either. She's constantly more and more edged and desperate until her gf finally comes home and let's her cum (not without punishment). I think the whole house gets really hot due to the robot processing fans.
truly no video game moment will ever surpass the part in portal 2 where glados says "well, this is the part where he kills us" and wheatley says "hello, this is the part where i kill you" and you unlock the achievement titled "the part where he kills you" (description: this is that part) and the chapter title appears on the screen and reads: chapter nine: the part where he kills you
Waiting at a bus stop, in a world where recent legislation permits trans girls to rip out the wombs of cis girls, though only once a month.
Based on this post and this ask.
Content warnings: Gore, Womb Gore, Implied Snuff, Trans Supremacy
This story is strictly for folks 18+, minors DNI.
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There were half a dozen people huddled around you in the bus shelter that night, seeking refuge from the downpour. The rain formed a pale halo around the warm yellow light of the lone streetlamp above, though the faces of your fellow passengers were more brightly lit by the blue-white light of their phones. You can barely hear the music playing through your headphones over the din of the storm on the shelters plastic roof, and instead find yourself looking around, both out into the night, and at your temporary neighbors.
As you look to the far end of the shelter, you notice a woman, slightly taller then yourself, her long blue-dyed hair matted down from the rain, her grey sweater hanging heavy from her shoulders. You'd noticed her before. On rare occasions like this, when you caught the late bus home from work, she was often there, quiet, off to the side. This, however, was the first time you'd caught her eye.
As her eyes reach yours, you look back down, quick as you can, hoping she didn't notice. You hadn't meant to stare, but lost in your thoughts you'd let your gaze linger a little too long. A few months ago the situation would have been embarassing, but now, with the new legislation that passed last month, it was down right dangerous. You'd seen the pride flag pins on her bag, the symbol tattooed on her shoulder, and you knew what she was allowed.
As you mull this over, your stare firmly fixed on your own shoes, you feel your phone vibrate. Without even thinking you check your notifications, and feel your heart drop into your stomach.
You've been selected by Maya Mason. You will be contacted shortly.
Your breath grows shaky as you read and re-read the message, some part of you hoping in vain that it doesn't really say what you think. As you glance back up, however, your suspicions are confirmed, as you meet the steady, slightly smug gaze of the blue haired woman.
She looks down at her phone and begins to type, your own phone buzzing again moments later.
"You know it's rude to stare, right?"
"sorry, i didn't mean to, it was an accident."
"sure. Well, we have another 15 minutes 'till the bus comes, and i'm getting bored."
"I... I understand."
"There's a cedar tree in the park back there, go wait under it. right now."
"yes ma'am."
You take a deep breath and step out from under the shelter, the rain immediately soaking into your top. The park behind the bus stop is deep and sprawling, filled with large conifers that somehow still darken the already moonless night. The cedar isn't too far, less then a minutes walk, and you take some refuge in the dry patch beneath it, though the wind still blows clear through your soaked clothes. You barely have time to collect yourself, however, before she's on top of you.
You don't even see her coming, you just feel the wind knocked out of you as you slam back against the soft bark of the tree. There's no ceremony in it, no comfort as you feel her hand tear at your skirt, a sudden shock of cold steel and a flash of pain as her pocket knife slides between your belly and the soft fabric, nicking you in the process. The blood doesn't have time to leave a stain, however, as your skirt, and moment later your panties, are cut away, and crumple to the ground around your legs.
You know what comes next, you know how little time you have left, but you can't help but love it. You were always a bit of a chaser, always a little to obsessed, a little too eager for a girl with a cock to take you as she pleased. When the legislation passed, when all cis girls over 21 were automatically enrolled last month, you couldn't help but feel a little giddy, hoping you'd end up just like this. You couldn't believe it was happening so soon.
You feel her hand take hold between your legs, a single finger tracing up along your lips, slipping inside for just a moment as it does. That's when you hear her laugh, like music to your ears.
"You're soaked dear... you must be one of those sluts who actually voted for this, aren't you?"
All you could do was bite you lip and nod a silent yes, barely visible in the darkness.
"Well then, I'll be sure not to disappoint."
As she says this, you feel her finger slip back inside you, joined soon after by another, and accompanied by her thumb finding it's way to your clit. You let out a gasp as you feel her nail press into it for a moment, before tracing slow, lazy circles around the swollen nub, her fingers digging deeper, beginning to thrust in and out.
You feel the her lean into your body, her weight pressing against your chest as she presses her cheek to yours, the gentle pressure tilting your head back, away, exposing your neck to her.
Her well lubed fingers dig deeper into you, the friction and pressure on your clit becoming erratic as she sacrifices some of your sensation in order to reach deeper. As she does, her cheek drags down yours, her face descending into your neck, her teeth beginning to tug and nibble at the soft flesh below.
You wince a little as her teeth come down harder, nicking your skin, a thin trickle of blood tracing down towards your shoulder, before you feel the soft texture of her tongue lapping it away. your eyes roll back as her feast continues, tugging and pulling at your neck again and again as, finally, you feel the tips of her fingers press against your cervix. From just below your neck, you hear a low, quiet chuckle. Far from the melodic laugh before, it's a cruel, sadistic sound.
"There it is."
You barely comprehend her words before a sudden pain shoots up through your body, the shock of her middle finger forcing it's way up into your womb, joined soon after by a second. You grit your teeth and try your best to bear it without screaming, but a moment later, it will all be in vain. Just as you begin to adjust to this new discomfort, you feel her fingers curl inside you, hooking around the inside of your cervix, her other arm pinning you against the tree, and with everything in place, she pulls.
Like a seasoned professional, her first tug is fast and powerful, so quick that you feel the sensation of something tearing deep inside your belly a full second before you comprehend the pain. As she winds up for her second tug, however, it washes over you, the stunned confusion on your face morphing into a terrible, ear splitting scream. You feel something tear again, something splitting apart inside you as she rips down on your organs further, pulling them closer to your entrance each time.
The edges of your vision go white and you realize you can't even hear your own cries, your brain shutting down, sealing itself off from the agony in a last ditch effort at self-preservation. You cling to the tree, your nails digging into the soft, fiberous bark as you desperately try to find purchase in this world. Finally, gasping, panting, barely a breath in your lungs, you see her again, or at least, her muddy silhouette. your eyelids flitting and your vision fails to focus, but as you return to your body, you feel the strangest sensation between your legs. Something warm, wet, and incredibly tender hangs between them, resting against the insides of your thighs. You look down and see it, the bloody, mutilated mass of internal tissue that was once inside you. your breath hitches in your throat as you catch her looking as well, the both of you staring down at was remains. As she speaks, her own voice is breathy, clearly enamored with her own work.
"Good girl."
She releases you from the tree, and her arm traces down your side, running along the edge of your belly, down over your hips, before finally gliding between your thighs and gripping your prolapsed organs. Your head slams back against the tree as you feel another wave of pain shoot momentarily up through you, as her pocket knife quickly saws through your meat, until it's fully removed. You look blearily across at her and see her stuff your entrails in her bag, before, without another word, she walks back towards the bus stop.
You collapse to the ground, suddenly becoming aware of the warm cascade of blood flowing down across your thighs. You don't have long. There's a hospital a few stops down, if you're lucky they might be able to stop the bleeding, might be able to fix you up in time. Nothing in the law says you have to die, after all.
You crawl back towards the bus stop, feeling blood soaked grass slide beneath your knees with every step, but as you round the corner out of the park, you see her again, the last passenger boarding the bus. You cry out, you beg the driver to wait, to let you on, but after a quick glance at her watch she gives you nothing more then a sympathetic look and a nod of no, before closing the doors and driving away. You see Maya through the window, but she never looks up.
The bus comes every 30 minutes. Maybe you'll get lucky.
cyber bodies are usually designed to last 5-10 years, to trap ppl in a perpetual state of debt. there’s a thriving grey market for overhauls and repairs
"‘mech pilots are horny because they get sweaty and fuck after the fights’ you pedestrian, mech pilots are horny because the neural feedback loop from striking an acquired target w/ +90% accuracy on a full flight of LRMs makes most pilots leak in their seat. It’s not about two pilots, separated by mountains of metal, learning to mutually respect the others skill it’s about how these industrial war machines have direct lines into their nervous systems and an oxytocin & dopamine tap directly linking destruction to pleasure."
"‘mech pilots are horny because they get sweaty and fuck after the fights’ you pedestrian, mech pilots are horny because the neural feedback loop from striking an acquired target w/ +90% accuracy on a full flight of LRMs makes most pilots leak in their seat. It’s not about two pilots, separated by mountains of metal, learning to mutually respect the others skill it’s about how these industrial war machines have direct lines into their nervous systems and an oxytocin & dopamine tap directly linking destruction to pleasure."
Come, you simply must meet my associates! This woman right here is a delightful pervert of sorts, and this fellow here, he’s some kind of a fucking idiot.
My hot take about ghosts is that they're only scary if they're mad at you. White christians are scared of dead people cause they're the ones killing them
