this is probably going to sound silly and/or a little funny but would you ever stop writing if you got a boyfriend? i obviously would respect your decision if that were to happen but its just that it happened with another favorite writer of mine and ive been mourning her work ever since💔💔💔 please dont leave us babs
If I ever got a man trust and believe I would be bouncing on it and typing at the same time for maximum accuracy.
I’d have him bent 6 ways to Sunday for the sake of science. For the love of the game even. “Spit in my mouth and moan when you watch me swallow I’m tryna see sum” type shit.
For context, this is a small story about my OC’s Davey and Delaney pre the actual story. The story takes place when they’re in college, this is their senior year of high school.
Please enjoy this read I beg of you. Also I’ll give more context about my story at the bottom of this post!!
“Do you even know where we’re going?”
Delaney’s voice was a hushed whisper as the two of them pushed through the overgrown bushes and trees next to his house. It was past midnight, the late night spring breeze blowing against them. Jostling Davey’s blue hair gently. The color faded, his dark brown roots starting to grow in. The tiny braid on the back of his head down towards his neck shifted slightly as the wind blew against it. Not long enough to sway in the wind yet.
“‘Course I do. You gotta trust me Del.”
A beat of silence filled the space between them as they walked through the forest, their feet padding against the grass beneath them. Davey stared at Delaney. Delaney stared at Davey.
Finally, Delaney starts, “I don’t trust you Davey.” He laughed, kicking a rock with the toe of his shoe, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. “You’re not the best at directions.”
Davey’s mouth fell agape, pressing his hand to his chest, leaning into Delaney’s arm.
“You wound me.” He whined, feigning pain whilst fighting back a smirk.
“I don’t wound shit, shut up bro.” Delaney retorted quickly. Fighting back a smile of his own as Davey leaned into him.
He really cherished moments like this. Where it was just him and Davey. Where Karie wasn’t breathing down Davey’s neck like a leech. Delaney looked over at him. The moonlight shining down on both of them, wind blowing through his hair. Oh how he hated the way Davey made him feel. The way his hands got sweaty when he stood too close, and how his eyes looked when he was standing in the sun. How they looked when he was sober. That was his favorite.
“Look, just trust me. I’ve been out this way like a billion times now. Karie and I come here sometimes to smoke. Or just to talk, if she’s in that kind of mood.” Davey shrugged, body casual as he brought up Karie. But Delaney stiffened. He hated that Davey even still remembered her, not that he could erase his memory. But god he wished he could sometimes.
“Del?” Davey called out, nudging Delaney with his elbow. Smiling nervously as he looked up at him. “You’re zoning on me again.” He said, softly.
“Sorry.. no yeah I get it. You come here a lot.” He responded, but his tone was disconnected and angry at the same time. Davey frowned. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No Davey, I was just-“
“Was it because I brought up Karie? I know you don’t like her but-“
“Davey! Look, I already said the shit was cool. Ain’t nothing wrong, man.” Delaney shouted, throwing his hands into the air. But he almost immediately regretted it. Clenching his jaw as Davey stopped in his tracks. Delaney sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck.
Silence stretched between them.
Loud and uncomfortable silence that made it feel like the air was full of thick molasses.
“I’m sorry.” Delaney said finally. Letting out a shaky breath as he turned to look at Davey. The wind blowing his tight curly brown hair. Hands still in his pockets.
Davey stood there, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. He looked away as Davey turned around. Staring at his shoes, arms folded across his chest. In the silence, the sound of a nearby river could be heard. The soft trickling filling the otherwise tense air.
“S’ fine. I shouldn’ta brought her up.” Davey responded weakly, still not meeting Delaney's gaze. He sighed heavily, guilt creeping up the back of his neck. He walked back over to Davey, stopping right in front of him, the tips of their shoes touching.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” He murmured softly. “Y’know that, right? It’s just.. fuck.” A laugh escaped his mouth, but it lacked amusement. The bitter hurt lingering on his lips. “I just hate how she fucking treats you. Treats you like a dog on a leash that she can tug around whenever she wants. It makes me god damned sick.”
Davey took a shaky breath in, huffing the air out, turning to his left, looking at the moonlight shining through the trees. “Tell me somethin’ I don’t already know.” He was fighting back tears. Delaney could tell— he could always tell.
“You can’t hide how you're feeling for shit.” Delaney laughed. “Cmon. You didn’t drag me out here so I could lecture you.” He held out his hand, waiting for Davey to grab it. “We’re right by the river, I can hear it.”
Davey stared at Delaney's hand. Biting his bottom lip to stop it from quivering. Looking up to meet his friend's eyes. His soft, constantly forgiving, constantly caring brown eyes. Davey rolled his eyes —deflecting— before he placed his hand into Delaney’s.
Where Karie would’ve just tugged him along, Delaney offered to lead.
“Fuckin’.. whatever. Just lead the way, yeah?” Davey scoffed, clenching his jaw as he followed behind Delaney.
Delaney swallowed hard, thankful that Davey couldn’t see him. His eyes were tearing up from all the heat rushing to his face. He felt stupid, like an elementary schooler who was having a crush for the first time. It was damned embarrassing.
The moon was high in the sky at this point. Shining in through the trees, illuminating the tree tops blowing in the wind, and the soft grass beneath their feet. As they walked, hands linked, fingers intertwined. Davey clenched his jaw, internally punching himself as he walked behind Delaney. He hated how much happier he felt when he was with him. He hated how much calmer he felt, how much more calm. It made his stomach knot up tight, he was unsure if it was anxiety or butterflies. Either way, he pushed it down as far as he could, ignoring it.
“Did you still wanna smoke?” Delaney asked, staring at the running river. It was moving faster than he’d been expecting. Trickling off of rocks as it quickly ran down stream.
Davey blinked, Delaney’s voice yanking him out of his thoughts. “Oh shit, yeah. Of course I do.” He laughed nervously, pulling his hand away from Delaney’s quicker and sharper than needed. Delaney noticed. He didn’t say anything about it.
“I was sorta hoping you’d say no.” He laughed, sitting down in the grass, dipping his fingers into the cool river water as Davey sat in front of him, fumbling with the blunt and his lighter.
They sat in a patch of grass where the moonlight was shining down clearly onto both of them, making Delaney’s Afro seem all the more soft. Davey slid the blunt between his lips, staring down as he lit it. Hating the fact that he noticed Delaney’s hair in the first place.
Delaney sat up, eyes locked onto Davey’s lips as he slowly inhaled the smoke, shoving his lighter back into his pocket. The lit end of the blunt illuminating his face.
“Stop fuckin’ looking at me like that.” He said, exhaling smoke into Delaney’s face, in a poor attempt to distract him from the pink tinge on his cheeks.
“I wasn’t looking at you in any kind of way!” Delaney insisted, shutting his eyes and turning away as the smoke hit his face. “I don’t smoke a whole lot so I just want to make sure I do it right, asshole.”
Davey smirked at that, taking another slow drag from the blunt. “We can do a shotgun if you want.”
Davey said with a smug laugh, holding the smoke in his lungs for a moment before exhaling it. Away from Delaney this time.
“What’s shotgunning?” Delaney asked as he leaned forward. Eyes flicking to Davey’s. Just a bad habit, is all.
⊹₊˚‧﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌⊹₊˚‧
Babies first tumblr writing post❤️🩹 anyway I wanna keep these guys in my pocket they mean sm to me yall don’t even know. BUT BASICALLY, the story is called 0300: Remember. It’s a story about how 5 college age people are essentially terrorized mentally and physically by Slenderman 😇 sort of like a marble hornets or emh esc thing except it’s written and not an arg. There’s 5 main characters and I love almost all of them. Lmk if yall want more 👀👀👀👀
Hai guys :3 I’m looking for moots and or friends if you truly desire. I’m 19, I like creepypasta, emh, marble hornets, drawing and writing about my ocs, horror movies, kemonomimi’s, halloween, collecting stuffed animals, being CRINGE >:3, and lots of other shit…
Your lover has done you dirty, but he’s promised to make it up to you. Swearing up and down he’ll do whatever it takes- by any means necessary.
Even if it costs his ego and a half.
!! Ft. Hoodie x GN! AFAB! Reader !! W/C: 2.6k
-> Sub/bottom! Brian, pegging (obvi), fingering, overstim, slight tiny tiny bit sadist reader, Tim cameo (not in a freaky way), dacryphilia + reader and their strap against the world ->
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— ^ ^ —
Brian’s had his fair share of adventurous bedroom endeavors, but this was uncharted territory.
He’s let you ride him before, manhandled him (kind of) here and there- now, though? You were scaring him.
You’d brought it up so casually that it borderline gave the man whiplash. One minute, you’re lying on his chest, cuddling like you always do. Then the next, you’re dropping a bomb.
“Do you know what pegging is?”
Stated bluntly, he froze under you. Asking if you were serious, and when you told him you were, he sighed. Closing his eyes as if you’d just said you wanted to blow up the house.
The issue was that Brian had a very difficult time saying no to you. Especially when you were mad at him.
He had stained your favourite throw-pillow with blood, practically painting the thing scarlet in his recklessness. It was either this or the couch, so he debated with himself using logic- along with his hatred for sleeping on the sofa.
You’d let him try all sorts of things on a whim, so it’d only be fair if he at least humoured you once. That led to him having a very humiliating experience trying to prep before you got home, and one solid everything-shower later, he was ready.
As ready as he could ever be, anyway.
You returned with a plethora of gadgets. From vibrators to straps, your collection was worrying. It had him nervous, a little fearful, but willing nonetheless. You had laid out a towel over the sheets, pulling lube from the bags with a grin.
It started normally, kissing, maybe a bit of grinding with you on top. Your hand wrapped around his cock, and he’d almost forgotten about the entire plan- only to be given a hefty reminder.
In the middle of giving him head, you suddenly pressed a palm against his inner thigh, spreading his legs wider. Brian, naive to the upcoming sensations, propped up his knee. Giving you plenty of workroom.
Then it happened.
You’d thrown the bottle of lube to the side earlier, and now it was going to be put to use. After popping the cap, you wet your fingers with the liquid. Carefully tracing the tight ring of muscle before pushing in. And he nearly flinched off the mattress.
“J-Jesus Christ, warn a guy, would ya’?” Mumbling, it felt weird. Though you eased him by picking up the pace with your other hand. Stroking up and down while you nudged deeper.
He tried his best to relax, really, he did. It was just hard to ignore the fact that there was literally something in his ass. In and out, in and out- it took about ten minutes before he slumped back into the pillows.
It wasn’t terrible, not unbearable to the point he couldn’t enjoy your touch. However, as time progressed, another feeling began to creep in. Simmering beneath the surface, coiling hotly in his gut. An embarrassing, yet undeniable pleasure. It kind of felt… good.
You scissored your digits, and his hips jerked. Face redder than an ambulance’s siren. “How’s it feel? Does it hurt?” The knowing lilt in your voice made him want to die.
“S’fine.“ He grit his teeth. The longer you went, the more the sensation built. Instead of being uncomfortable, every rock of your fingers sent sparks straight to his cock. The tip weeping down his length as evidence. This was humiliating.
Though you seemed dead-set on seeing him crumble, clicking your tongue with feigned sincerity. “Are you sure? If it hurts, we can stop. You know I’d never keep going if it didn’t feel good, right, Bri?” You pumped deeper, dragging the pads of your fingers against his walls.
All his hard work, his painstakingly crafted stone mask, was for naught- because this had to be the equivalent of waterboarding. Jaw tensing, it was taking all his mental strength to focus on speaking. Stop the whines that were climbing up his throat.
“Christ- it’s fine. I told you ‘m fine-“ Mid sentence, then he arched off the linen violently. You’d hit something. A button of some sort that had him choking on spit. “Okay, haah- that’s new.” Weakly chuckling to pretend like he wasn’t on the brink of drooling.
His thighs twitched- fuck, this had to be torture. You were evil. So, so evil. Looking down at him with your eyes brighter than the moon, you slid in knuckle deep. Pressing directly onto the soft spot when his head flung back. “Shit- ngh- hold on. Give- give me a second-“
Brian grabbed at the sheets. “C’mon dolly- ah-“ A desperate attempt at bargaining, and you curled the digits. Pumping in and out as he squirmed.
This was beyond embarrassing. You had given up on touching his dick, letting it sit plump against his stomach. The only stimulation was from inside, making it the sole source of pleasure. He couldn’t even act like it wasn’t affecting him because his body had betrayed him.
Leaking onto his navel, his shaft pulsed. Flushed, while he turned his face to the side. Burying into the pillow to try and hide his expression. He knew damn well what faces he was making, and you’d never let him live it down. The scary, unfeeling, sniper-wielding Hoodie had been reduced to this.
His entire thing was being stoic, and now he was anything but. Panting like he’d run a marathon, cheeks pink with his brows furrowed. He zeroed in on the wall. Shivering despite his efforts, he bucked his hips. “Yer’ a real pervert, I ever tell you that? Oh fuck.” Gasping when you added a third finger.
You had his legs spread, one palm hoisting his thigh up, with the other pressing against his balls every time you rocked inside. Brian had never in his life wanted to disappear more.
The heat was turning up, and it was turning up fast. It was an inevitable outcome, yet he dreaded it all the same. Shit, yeah. Okay, it felt good. It wasn’t his fucking fault- his body just happened to have a sweet spot about two to three inches in. So what?
The coil was pulling taut. Swirling tighter and tighter, he grunted. “Fuckin’- mmph, n-not lettin’ me off easy, huh?” Never a nervous rambler, it seemed as if all his prowess had been thrown to the window.
Good lord, you were not giving up. Each suppressed noise only fuelled your lust, and you started slamming the digits in without a word. His shoulders bowed. “Fuck- holy shit, baby-“ Mouth hanging open while he gasped.
Teetering on the brink, he was so close. It’d only take another ten seconds if he’s honest. However, as he approached the ledge— you stopped. Abruptly pulling out, before you giggled at the anguish in his gaze. “You can’t cum yet! We haven’t even fucked.” The realization hit him in a flash.
Right. This was just the prep. You hadn’t entered the main event. The entire reason you’d settled between his legs in the first place.
Pegging.
Which included you and a strap. He didn’t even notice when you put the damn thing on, but it was already attached to your hips. A flat six inches. Decently sized, you’d gotten the toy in a glossy black, making it just wide enough to have him swallow dryly.
Brian cleared his throat, propping himself up on his elbows. “And you’re sure you wanna’ go all the way?” The hesitation in his voice made you laugh. “Yes, Bri. I want to go all the way. Besides, you always put me in crazy positions, I wanna’ see the hype.” You scooted forward, and his gaze flickered down.
There was no going back from this. He clenched his jaw. “What kinda’ positions you thinkin’ about?” Fear was written across his face when you slathered lube onto silicon. “Doggy.” You spoke, looking him dead in the eyes, more corrupted by authority than a politician. His lack of movement made you pat his thigh, toy now prepped.
“Face down, ass up, lover.”
Your words were crude, and he gawked at you before begrudgingly flipping over. He should’ve known falling in love was a bad idea. Technically, it could be worse, your affair ending in tragedy- but this had to be a close second. He hissed when he felt the plastic nudge against him, and you cooed.
“Relax.” Pushing in an inch, the stretch had him collapsing almost instantly. It was like you’d activated his nerves. You hadn’t even reached ‘the spot’, and he was already out of breath.
The sheets were balled in his grasp while he stammered. “Hold on, jus’, hah, give me a minute.” Voice cracking, you sank in halfway, ignoring his pleas. Of course, if it hurt, you’d pause immediately, yet you knew him.
His length was dribbling heavily, and if he wasn’t enjoying it, he would’ve said exactly that. “This isn’t even as big as you; you can take it.” With that, you rocked to the base.
Hoodie’s teeth latched onto the pillow on pure instinct, the stuffing muting his whine. It felt like you were in his fucking stomach. “Oh shit.” Muffled, he jerked sharply- you’d started without warning. Snapping your hips forward, the rhythm you set was merciless. Fast and hard as he pathetically clawed at the linen. You were trying to kill him.
The blunt tip knocked into the edge of his prostate nonstop. Every thrust had the silicone veins dragging along his oversensitive walls, and the pleasure was intense enough to have him spasming around you.
“Please- Jesus fuckin’- slow, ngh- d-down.” He moaned, tears clouding his view. “Uh, uh- huuh, dolly.” The bed frame was slamming into the wall from the force of your bodies, springs creaking under you.
His spine had formed a perfect semi-circle, and you slid your palm along his back, grabbing his waist as leverage. “You’re so loud, Brian. Does it feel that good?” Your mock would’ve made him defensive if he could think. Except his brain was nowhere near functional at the moment, and he couldn’t speak if he wanted to.
There wasn’t a singular thought in his head, the fullness making his tongue feel like concrete. His jaw was slack, with spit slipping past his lips. “Ah, ‘m not l-loud- hngh.” When you struck bullseye on his sweet spot, Brian sobbed. White dotted his vision, orgasm seizing him violently.
His eyes rolled before his lids drooped, forehead smushed into the cushion. Through his blurry gaze, he could see you positioned between his legs.
Your thighs tensed while you pressed yourself deeper, and his cock spilled onto the covers below. A pornographic sight he truly never thought he’d witness.
He panted, trembling. “Yer’ f-fucked up, y’know that?” Except, his little insult had fallen on deaf ears- because you shoved him down. Straddling his thighs from behind before driving back in to the hilt. He whimpered, keening like a dog as you rocked your hips harshly, not sparing him even a second to adjust. Your lover clutched at the pillow, using it as a lifeline.
Sweat beaded down your collar from exertion, and you sank your fingers into the fat of his waist. The base of the toy thumped onto your clit every time you slammed deeper, sensation rippling through you. “You’re so pretty like this, Bri. It’s not fair-”
He was a vision, absolutely stunning. “I should just keep you here, moaning like a whore.” The way he cried made your mouth water.
Brian, on the other hand, could not believe you were the same person who stitched him up on late nights. You were always sweet, always gentle- so why the hell were you fucking him as if you hated him? The power had gotten to you, and you pitched lower, pelvis flush. You drilled your cock into him, silicone hilt grinding against his ass.
The rough tempo forced his length to hump the mattress, and he writhed. Dual-ended pleasure racking through him. You were pumping in and out with abandon, the lube growing thick from friction. “I can’t. C- hah- can’t, I can’t, s’too much. S’toomuchplease- nngh.” He slurred, weakly scratching at the covers. His head felt like it was going to explode.
You were breaching into his guts at this point. The man couldn’t see straight, thrashing when you hit his prostate dead on. His release was climbing rapidly; your bedroom fogged like a sauna. You were using so much strength that the nightstand lamp swayed.
With pleasure rolling up his spine, he wailed pitifully. High-pitched whines punched out of his throat with each thrust. His brows pinched up, and he went limp, boneless as you used him. He couldn’t even breathe, couldn’t form a single cohesive thought or sentence. “So fuckin’ r-rough-” Your nose brushed his nape, and you bit down, lapping at the mark.
“Just a little more, you can do it. C’mon, c’mon.” You were so close, drunk off the noises he made. His thighs were slick and sticky enough to soak the linen. “Dolly, ‘m gonna’- guh- mmh gonna’—” He jolted, panting quickly before splattering onto your blankets. Yet you didn’t stop- you were fucking him past his orgasm. The stimulation had him shuddering violently, and he lurched forward. Trying to escape the overstimulation.
“Pleaseplease- ngh- break- give me huh- a break-” He hiccuped, snot and tears wetting the cushion, you came with a gasp. Slumping into him while your arms gave out. You lay there for a moment, silent, the space filled with nothing but your shared exhaustion. He was ready to bask in your (much-deserved) affection and sleep for the rest of his years.
At least, that was the original plan.
Because as he collected his bearings, you pecked his damp shoulder. Tone chipper enough to make his blood run cold.
“Do you remember when we went five rounds back to back that one time?”
ᯓ★
Tim took a slow drag of his cigarette.
Brian was supposed to have sent back the recon footage hours ago, and he hadn’t responded to any texts. Sitting on the couch, he pinched the bridge of his nose. That bastard. The springs squeaked when he adjusted. Slouching, with his phone swiped open.
He dialled the sniper, just to misclick on the FaceTime option. But honestly, he couldn’t be bothered at this point. It rang once, twice- then the tell-tale chime echoed from his speakers. And when he glanced at the screen, he raised a brow.
His companion looked as if he’d been through hell and back, cheeks flushed with perspiration coating his skin. Tim could barely see the guy, yet it was evident that he was in bed, face pressed against a pillow. Was he crying? “The hell happened to you?” He grunted, and Brian shuffled slightly.
“Mm- ‘m on punishment.”
He sounded strained, baritone shaky. The brunette narrowed his eyes. What kind of excuse was he trying to pull off? They were aware that it was better to get the boring shit over with, and it’s not like sending files was difficult. Tim gave him a once-over, both perplexed and irritated. He knew Hoodie was at home, so why did he seem so out of it?
“Why are you breathin’ like that?”
“I- ngh-”
The frame went dark, then it flipped to reveal you- like you were behind Brian. You gave him a remorseful grin, and Tim’s eyes widened in horror as it clicked. “Sorry, Tim. He picked up by accident. He’ll call you tomorrow, promise.”
You gave him a thumbs-up before the call ended, leaving him to brew in his shock. The half-finished cig was loose in his hold, ash sparking while he stared at the wall.
Fanfiction is supposed to be cringy. You're allowed to write bad. You're allowed to be cringe. Fanfiction is supposed to be self indulgent. You're allowed to be cringe. Let yourself be cringe. Fanfiction is supposed to be fun. Stop putting arbitrary rules on yourself and be free.
I have so many slenderverse oc’s it’s not even funny. There’s Davey, Delaney, Karie, Micheal, and Faye. They’re all in my story that I haven’t written called 0300: remember. Then there’s Jovie and she’s in The girl who devoured hope which also isn’t written. And then there’s Vera whose story doesn’t even have a name. TOO MANY OC’S NOT ENOUGH WRITING.
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