#instead of...ya know..............................real pages

[autophobiacomic]

Louis: let's elope

Daniel: ...well, i mean, i kinda looked pissed at u so this is unexpected but maybe ?????

[lologoinsolo]

A continuation of this post! Tw: the word Daddy is mentioned but not in a sexual way!

Cats and Their Men Masterlist, Part 3

A week passed since that guy came in. You hope that the kitten's okay, the guy seems much better than you thought him to be. You did wonder if that was blood on the bills he gave when your manager had counted the register for the night. It looked a lil too red for your taste. But everyone has their secrets and you’re not about to ask that tank of a man if he killed someone or just happened to prick his finger. Still though you hope Bailey is faring much better with him than in the could and… you hope he comes back.

Sunday’s the worst but you managed to persuade your coworker to take over your register. Truck had just came in with so many things for the store and your managers are scrambling to get it all on the sales floor.

Humming along to the song from your earphones. The perks about stocking is that you hardly get bothered by your coworkers. No one likes to restock the numerous bedding and litter and pet clothing so you jumped at the chance to do it. Gives you some peace and quiet save for when the customers will tap at your shoulder. You’ll plaster a smile and use your “customer voice” to point them to where they need a certain item and then get back to stocking. You really should find a way to just work with animals. Maybe you can talk to your manager to see if you can try grooming instead of—

“Girl!”

You jerk and nearly ruin the stack of dog cans you had just put up when someone grabs your arm. “Jesus, Jess,” glaring at your manager when you give her a scathing glare. Coincidentally this one’s the grooming manager. “What’s the matter?” Normally she wouldn’t be out of the grooming salon but the stores been short staffed and cutting corners. She’s been running around having to manage the store floor and hers.

“What’s the matter,” she scoffs, “the matter is your boyfriend is asking for you.” Boyfriend? “He’s a real asshole, ya know. We paged you twice over the intercom. Did you not— are you wearing headphones?” You wince when her voice gets screechy. You pull on your earphones and sigh, it’s an unspoken rule to not wear earphones but that literally never stops her groomers from wearing them.

“Jess, I don’t have a boyfriend.” Rolling your eyes as you give her a once over. Her hands land on her hips and you inwardly sigh. “What does he even look like? Did he say my name?” A little hopeful and also very worried because why is there a man claiming to be your boyfriend and why did your manager come get you for this? “I’m sure he’s one of the customers that’s been bitching lately. The fish tanks aren’t on sale anymore maybe he—“

“He’s not here for fish.” Cutting you off, “he asked for you. I thought he was your boyfriend cause he knew you were working right now.” The alarms start going off in your head. “Look, just go see what he wants.”

“Jess, I don’t know who this man is. Why didn’t you tell him I was like— I don’t know, not working?!”

“Because he’s refusing to fucking leave and he looks like he’s apart of the goddamn mafia!” She yells and you blink at her. Your anger boils to a simmer when she mentions what he looks like.

“Wait, wait… is he wearing a black mask? The ones people wore during COVID?” She nods and you pinch your nose hard. This motherfucker, “okay… I know him. He found a kitten a week ago. I told him to come find me. I didn’t think he’d remember my name because my name tag is so small.” Sighing loudly and stepping around her. “I’ll go talk to him.”

“Good, he’s given us all a fright and I really don’t need this right now. Bella bit the shit out of Felix and now I’m down a groomer.”

“Okay,” nodding as she tells you her woes. It’s been hard all around cause there’s not many workers but you’ll take a mask wearing customer over a shih tzu that’s known to bite. Fixing your shirt and putting on a smile when the figure that’s haunting the grooming salon takes one look at you and starts walking to you— quickly. “Evening, good to see you again. How can I—“

“She’s not eating any of the shit you told me to buy.” He cuts you off and you wonder if you’re actually just made of paper with how everyone cuts you off. There’s a black scarf he’s wearing and you notice a little bit of movement. This guy seems to favor black considering the matching jacket and pants color scheme.

You pull a face and turn to your side when he steps right in front of you. Jesus, he’s tall. Craning your neck to look up at him. “Sir, you have a weeks worth of three different foods?” Is she refusing to eat all of them? “It’s only been a week. Are you sure she’s—“

“Gave her a different one each day and she ain’t eating.” He tilts his head down, “why?” You swallow a bit when he glares at you. You wonder if whoever pisses him off gets to see this last before they get knocked the fuck out.

“You?” Shriveling up slightly, “wait,” once it runs through what he says it starts to click in your head. “You gave her a different one each day. You’re not supposed to do that.” Now it’s your turn to glare at him, “you’re supposed to ease her out into a new one before letting her try it suddenly.” You gave him the kitten version of chicken, beef, and salmon. You had a feeling that she was probably eating literal garbage and wanted her to try the chicken first. It’s your usual go to for new kittens.

“News to me,” he crosses his heavy arms over his chest. “Should’ve told me that.”

“I did tell you…” you start to trail off when you realize that you in fact did NOT tell him that. You just assumed he would know that. Goddamnit. “Okay,” he cocks an expectant brow, “maybe I forgot to mention but you didn’t ask. I thought you knew.” A measly form of an apology and taht doesn’t seem to settle him

“I told you I need things for the little shit. You made me buy those things,” he takes a step forward, “expensive things and now she’s waking me up all hours of the damn night because she’s hungry.” Your throat must be very dry from how hard you swallow. “What you didn’t tell was how to feed her.” His hands ball and flex.

Rubbing the back of your neck, you realize that maybe you are more in the wrong than your pride wishes to admit. “Look I,” taking a breath, “I’m sorry. It’s on me, I should’ve told you. I would’ve given you one of those first time pamphlets but we ran out.” Feeling like how a bug feels under a boot with how you tremble out an apology. “Was there one that she seemed interested in the most? Some cats like the chicken more while others prefer the salmon.” Maybe you can give him some wet cans to entice his little pet. A small thing like her shouldn’t be without food and you start to feel worse.

“She sniffed more at the salmon.”

“Okay, that’s good.” Perking up and you turn on your heel. “Come on, I’ll buy you some wet cans.” Before he can even protest you cut him off finally. “Look, I feel horrible, it’s the least I can do. Plus I get discounts.” Giving him a wink and he doesn’t give you anything other than a curt nod. You grab the salmon wet cans, the kitten ones, and you pray to the gods that Bailey will eat it so her dad won’t kill you. “Try the wet cans, see if that’ll work. If not then you’ll have to try for a different one. There’s a brand here that sells rabbit and turkey, a bit expensive.” You laugh shortly, “but cats have sensitive stomachs. They don’t mean to be picky.”

“Might not be picky but she sure as hell like to run my money.”

You huff a small laugh at his expense, “you should see the bills I’ve seen that get racked up here.” You skip the line to head to your register. Ringing it up and usually you’re not supposed to use your own discount for others but you’re not willing to risk mafia guy’s anger. Bagging it and passing it to him for him but he doesn’t grab it right away “Is there… is there something else you need?” You ask and he takes the bag from you finally.

He mulls over your words for a second and then says. “Need a collar,” he tilts his head to the side and out pokes Bailey’s itty bitty head from his scarf. You nearly scream when you see her but manage to bite your tongue on time. “Here,” he pulls her out and she lets out a disgruntled meow. He plops her down in your waiting arms. “Scratched up my neck.” He grumbles under his breath when he fixes his scarf back up. The kitten simply purrs in your arms when you coo and run from her nose to head. A glutton for love and you readily give it to her. “Find something for her.” He waves offhandedly once his scarf looks decent around his neck once more.

“Do have a specific—“ you trail off again when his eyes squint down at you. Right… he doesn’t really care. “Okay, I’ll be right back.” He grunts an acknowledgment and you walk off with the cutest little baby. She keeps pulling at your chest, seems eager to get to your shoulders and you wonder if she does that to her dad all the time. “Hmmmm,” looking from all the collars that the store sells. “You’re too tiny,” you hold her up like the monkey did the lion cub, a little sad that there’s not much that’ll fit her. “But,” noticing a small blue collar that shines slightly, “this could fit. It’ll give you enough room to grow into as well.” It’s a cat collar designed to unclasp if it gets snagged hard onto something. And knowing this curios kitten, she’ll need it.

Bailey doesn’t seem to mind when you let her sniff at it till the collar comes on and then she’s desperate to figure out what’s around her neck. Her back legs kicking at the edge of the collar and you cup her so she won’t tug it off. “Your daddy wants you wearing that so you gotta get used to it.” He could train her to walk on a harness later but that does take a good amount of training and

“Daddy, huh?”

You jolt from your thoughts and squeeze a little too tight around Bailey. She lets out a little hiss and you blubber an apology. “I didn’t— that’s not what I—“ the ‘daddy’ in question seems far too amused with how you stutter. “I uh… I thought you were at the front?” Coughing to push past your embarrassment. Petting Bailey as an apology on her sides and under her chin. She doesn’t forgive easily as she gives you a well deserved nips. You murmur a sorry to her and she squints up at you.

“Thought you got lost.” He comes around and pulls his kitten from your hands, he took a little longer to get her out but maybe you’re thinking too hard. You were taking a bit down the aisle but you wanted her to have a nice collar that fit her well. The heat from his fingers though makes your own cheeks warm slightly. When did he get that close and also why didn’t you hear him walking up? “Looks good,” he holds Bailey up and moves her around like she’s a little jewel. “Blue suits her.” He pushes her back inside his scarf and you can faintly hear her little purrs. A slight movement of the fabric before she settles right up against his neck.

Clearing your throat slightly, some strands of hair falls a bit forward but you’re still a bit squirmy to fix it. “I knew she would look good in blue. It matches her, I can buy it for you as well. I don’t min—“ your eyes widen when he moves his hand to tuck those loose strands back behind your ear. You stare up wide at him and he stares down at you. Nothing in his eyes give away an ounce of an emotion despite how you look. To his credit, he may have not meant to do that with how quickly he puts his hand down. “Uh… I— sir?” You manage to squeak out and his mask twitches slightly.

He flexes his hand that touched you and leaves you standing there bewildered, confused and your cheeks burning up so much that you might consider it to be a fever. You don’t follow him when he took off without giving an answer but you do touch your ear. The phantom feeling of his fingers makes butterflies flutter in your stomach. “What the fuck?” You murmur under your breath.

…

The next day you manage to get to work with little sleep from how you tossed and turned. You sorta waited more around your register to see if the man would come back but to your disappointment… he doesn’t. You take it in stride and continue about your day. Just as you’re about to clock out a man with a charming smile and model worthy appearance comes in holding a kitten in his hands and says, “I was told by my friend to ask you for help with cats. Can you help me, love?”

[punani-san]

𝑩𝒓𝒆𝒅 & 𝑩𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒇𝒂𝒔𝒕

Pairing: Remmick x Fem!Reader  - One Shot, A.U. (No Beta)

A.N.: Ngl, uploading a Fic without a Banner is strange and it feels naked/incomplete to me, but here's my attempt at Remmick with a knot. Likes, Comments & Reblogs are always appreciated. Thank you in advance to those who take the time to read! 🖤❤️

Content Warnings: MDNI, 18+, PiV, Knotting, Breeding Kink, Creampie, Dacryphilia, Daddy Kink(?), Fingering, Cervix Contact, Cervix Penetration, Degradation, Cumflation, Rough Sex, Feral Remmick, Dirty Talk, Praise, Somnophilia (light), Biting, Overstimulation, Blood Drinking. (If I missed anything please lmk!)

Summary: Remmick catches you reading werewolf smut and offers you a demonstration of the real thing.

W.C.: 5.4k

Divider Credits: @strangergraphics-archive @strangergraphics

Tags: @madkingcrowley @foxtufts @iceemochaa

MASTERLIST

The fire crackled in the fireplace, passing shadows across your face as you hastily jammed the paperback book between your thighs just as the front door opened.

Remmick had returned sooner than you anticipated.

Did he already drink his fill? Usually, when he hunts, he's away for an hour or two at most.

You sat cross-legged on the couch, the book hidden as you pulled the hem of your silk nightgown over your legs to conceal it. Luckily, you were able to cover it before he saw, but you were positive he'd notice your rapid pulse and flushed face.

He entered the living room, his boots heavy on the hardwood floors. "Now, what's got your heart racin', darlin'?" He asked, already circling the couch. His blue eyes locked onto the suspicious book poorly concealed by the fabric of your pajamas. "Somethin' interestin' under there, or you just happy to see me?"

"Wasn't expecting you to return so soon," you murmured, intentionally ignoring his question. "How was your hunt?"

Remmick chuckles as he leans over the back of the couch, his breath fans over your shoulder. "Avoidin' the question only makes me more curious. Now, let's see what's got you blushin'..."

"A book," you reply vaguely, making no move to hand it over.

His hand slides over your thigh slowly, fingertips tracing the hem of your nightgown before slipping beneath to grab the book and quickly snag it.

You watch as his eyes quickly roam over the front cover, then he flips it over to read the back in a matter of seconds.

"Werewolves, darlin'?" He asks in surprise, flipping through pages with amused disdain. "You want somethin' with teeth and claws? Should I be offended?"

"Offended?" You repeat in confusion. "It's a book I forgot I had, figured I'd read it to pass the time by while you were away."

He walked around from the back of the couch until he sat down beside you. Remmick stretched his legs out with a sigh, tossing the book onto the coffee table with a dismissive flick of his wrist. "Passin' time with knottin' werewolf smut? Fascinatin' taste ya got," he muses, tilting his head to study your flushed face. "Though I recon your pulse ain't racin' from embarrassment alone."

"How do you know about...knotting?" You were surprised that he even knew what it was.

Remmick lets out a dark laugh, stretching his arms along the back of the couch. "Darlin', I've walked this earth for a very long time. Do you really think I ain't encountered every flavor of monster under the moon?" His gaze drops pointedly to the book again. "I do wonder why you're readin' 'bout 'em instead of askin' me for a demonstration..."

Demonstration? You blinked before your eyes widened in surprise. A part of you was curious, but you weren't exactly sure if you were ready for the answer. "B-but you're a vampire..." You stammer. How is that even possible?

His fingers trail up your thigh, tracing idle circles through the silk as his smirk deepens. "Oh, darlin'," he croons, leaning in until his lips brush your ear. "Vampires adapt...Evolve." His free hand taps the book cover meaningfully. "Some of us learn tricks from other monsters over the centuries."

You look at him, still a bit skeptical, as he gives you a fanged smirk. "So...you can grow a..."

He catches your hesitation, leaning back against the cushions while his fingers continue their slow exploration beneath your nightgown. "A knot?" he finishes for you, voice dripping with amusement. "I can grow whatever I damn well please. The real question is whether you'd like to see it." His thumb brushes the inside of your thigh. "Or better yet...feel it."

You attempt to flee to the Kitchen, in desperate need of a drink, but you barely make it one step before he grabs your hips and pulls you onto his lap. Your back flush against his chest as his arms wrapped around your waist, ensuring you couldn't escape.

His fangs graze the shell of your ear as his hands slide up your thighs, pushing the silk nightgown higher. "Now where d'ye think you're goin', lil' rabbit?" he rumbles, the vibration against your back making you shiver. "We were just gettin' to the interestin' part."

"Was gonna get some wine," you murmur shyly, gasping softly as his lips brush against your pulse point.

His chuckle vibrates against your skin as his fingers dance along the hem of your panties. "Wine?" he purrs against your neck, fangs grazing lightly. "Darlin', if you wanted somethin' wet, all you had to do was ask." His other hand grabs the book from the table, flipping it open with one finger. "But first—let's hear how them werewolves do it."

The sudden thump of the book landing in your lap made you jump, his voice dripping with wicked amusement. "Page forty-two seems...educational." His fingers tighten on your hips as he noses along your collarbone. "Read it for me, sweet thing. Nice an' slow."

Your breath hitches as you feel the hard ridge of him pressed against your backside, fingers trembling as you flip to the indicated page. The scene describes a werewolf pinning a woman against a tree, and you swallow hard before whispering, "His...knot swelled as he—"

His low growl cuts you off as his hand slides up to cup your throat while his thumb strokes your frantic pulse. "Louder, darlin'," he murmurs, lips dragging along your jaw. "Unless you want me to show you exactly how accurate that description is." His hips roll lazily beneath you, the thick outline of his cock pressing insistently against your ass even through layers of fabric.

Your breath catches from the light pressure of his hand around your neck, and an involuntary shudder goes through your body as his hips roll. You focus on the book in your lap once more.

His chuckle vibrates against your spine, one hand sliding down to palm the plush curve of your thigh. "C'mon now, don't leave me hangin'," he drawls, the faintest edge of his fang catching your earlobe. "Or would you rather I turn you 'round an' show you?" The hand on your thigh drifts higher, fingers dipping beneath lace to tease at damp heat.

You whimper as his fingers graze your slick folds, the book trembling in your hands as you try to focus. "He—he dragged her closer," you breathe out shakily, "his knot already pressing against her—" Your words dissolve into a breathy inhale when Remmick's thumb circles your clit.

"Mm, just like that," he murmurs against your neck, his other hand splaying possessively across your stomach to pull you tighter against him. "Now tell me, darlin'—" His teeth scrape your pulse point. "D'ye think the werewolf made her beg first? Or did he just take what he wanted?"

Your hips jerk involuntarily against his teasing fingers, the book nearly slipping from your grasp as you whimper, "H-he—oh fuck—t-took—" The words come out strangled when his fangs pierce the skin just below your ear in a fleeting, intoxicating sting.

Remmick laps at the twin beads of blood welling up with a pleased hum as he slips two fingers inside, working you mercilessly slow as he turns a page with his free hand. "Don't stop now, sugar," he purrs, dragging his wet lips along your jaw. "Tell me how he fucked her against that tree. How big that knot got when it locked inside her?" His own hips rock up against you, the hard length beneath his trousers already straining.

You could feel how hard he was and it didn't make it easier to follow along with the book. Especially as his fingers continued moving inside you. He held the book up with his free hand and read from the page out loud.

His voice turned sensual, infinitely better than any audible you've listened to as he recited the passage, fingers never slowing their torment. "The beast snarled as he rutted into her, knot swellin' until she sobbed—" His lips curved against your neck, fingers crooking deeper just to feel you shudder. "Sound familiar yet, dove? Or do I need to flip to the page where he pounds her raw?"

He didn't give you the chance to reply, not that you could if you wanted to. The constant rubbing on your G-spot made it impossible as you leaned back against his chest.

His fingers suddenly stilled inside, pressing deep as his other hand tipped your chin up to meet his gaze. "Tell me what you want," he says. His hips rolled again, and you could feel the heat from his cock as it twitched against you while his fingers moved inside.

"You...p-please." You pleaded as he withdrew his fingers.

Remmick's grin turns downright feral as he flips you onto your back in one smooth motion, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand while the other rips away your panties. "So good for me," he praises, then drags his clothed erection against your dripping cunt. "Gonna show you exactly why vampires don't need fur to ruin you."

The firelight casts flickering shadows across his predatory smirk as he leans down to lick up your neck, fingers tightening around your wrists. "But first," he growls against your pulse, hips grinding slow and filthy, "say it proper. Beg me to fuck you with this knot you've been fantasizin' 'bout."

Your thighs tremble as you arch against him, the heat of his clothed cock rubbing just right against your soaked folds. "Please," you whimper, breath hitching when his free hand palms your breast roughly through silk. "Please—" A breathy moan escapes you. "—use it on me..."

His growl vibrates against your throat as he tears his own shirt open with one clawed hand, buttons and fabric scattering across the floor. "There's my good girl," he purrs, dragging his fangs down your collarbone while his hips roll in slow, deliberate circles. Letting you feel every inch. "Now watch."

The sound of his zipper was loud in the quiet room, followed by a choked gasp from you when he finally frees himself. His cock, already slightly swollen at the base, had the telltale bulge of his veiny knot forming beneath flushed skin. "See, darlin'?" He guides your trembling hand down to wrap around the thickening base, his smile widening at your shocked whimper. "Told ya I adapt."

The girth caught you off guard, you were partially worried it wouldn't fit. The heat emanating from it was intense as it pulsed in your hand that barely wrapped around its veiny girth.

His fingers tighten around yours, guiding your palm along the length with agonizing slowness until your fingertips brush the swollen ridge of his forming knot—already thicker than your wrist.

"Oh, it'll fit darlin'," he growls against your lips, the promise in his voice as sharp as his fangs. "Might take some persuadin', but I'll love watchin' you struggle takin' me." His hips jerk into your grip, a bead of precum leaking from the tip as his other hand rips your nightgown down the middle.

"Was that really necessary?" You ask, your gaze drops to the tattered remains of your nightgown.

His laughter sends a shudder through you as he drags the ruined silk off your shoulders, exposing every inch of your body.

"Necessary? No. Fun? Absolutely." His fingers trace the curve of your hip, claws leaving faint trails as his knot pulses against your thigh. "Now—" He presses the weeping head of his cock against your clit, watching you shiver. "Where were we?"

A breathy moan escapes your parted lips as he drags the head of his cock through your folds, smearing precum onto your clit. He grips your legs behind the knee and folds you in half, putting you in the mating press position as he aligns himself with your quivering entrance.

His crimson eyes flare with predatory hunger as he leans over you, dragging the swollen head of his cock through your folds again. This time, intentionally catching on your entrance to tease you. "Gonna make you scream loud enough the neighbors hear." His hips snap forward without warning, burying himself halfway in one thrust as his claws dig into your thighs.

You whimper from the sudden stretch, even though he was only halfway in; he felt thicker than usual, and his knot wasn't even in you yet. You tightly gripped the couch on either side of your hips as you gasped out his name.

His growl vibrates through your chest before he bottoms out with one final thrust, his thickening knot already stretching your entrance wide.

You cry out sharply, nails digging into the couch cushions as the overwhelming stretch burns through you.

"There we go," he breathes, pausing to let you adjust while his claws trace idle patterns on your thighs. "Just breathe, darlin'. Gotta make sure you can take all of me before I start ruinin' you proper." His lips graze your shoulder as his hips roll in slow, torturous circles, each movement pushing his cock deeper.

The pleasure and pain blurred together until your vision whites out for a second. "Fuck—no warning?" You gasp, thighs trembling as you try to arch away from the unbearable fullness, only to be pinned harder against the couch.

He chuckles darkly against your throat, his claws dig into your hips, holding you immobile while his knot pulses inside. "Where's the fun in warnin'?" His tongue drags along your jugular before biting down just shy of breaking skin. "Besides—" He adds, rolling his hips in a filthy, shallow grind that makes you whimper. "Ya took it so pretty."

"At least let me adjust first, I'm not used to—"

He thrusts shallowly, cutting you off mid-sentence. "Adjust?" he says against your pulse, fangs scraping sensitive skin. "Darlin', your cunt's already suckin' me in deeper—think your body knows what it wants better'n you do."

"Just d-don't make it b-bigger...please." You beg softly, walls fluttering uncontrollably around him.

He drags his lips up your throat, hips rutting in slow, random intervals. "Shhh," he murmurs, the thickening base of his cock stretching you wider with each pulse, "you're beggin' the wrong way. Should be askin' me to fill you up." His claws dig into your thighs as he pulls out halfway, only to slam back in with a wet snap that makes you cry out. "But since you asked so nicely..." His knot swells abruptly, locking inside your tight cunt.

"Remmick!" You cried out, arching beneath him. The head of his cock grinds against your womb, adding to the intense pressure and pleasure.

His groan rumbled through his chest as his knot slightly inflated, locking you together with a vulgar wet sound. "There we go, love," he purred in approval. "Nowhere to run, just gotta take every inch like a good lil' mate."

The firelight illuminated your trembling, sweat-slicked body as he leaned back just enough to admire the way you stretched around him, crimson eyes blazing with desire and something primal. "Christ, look at ya," he breathed huskily, thumb swiping through the mess of slick and precum where your bodies joined. "Already tryin' to milkin' me dry."

Your fingers gripped the couch cushions when he pulled out to the swollen ridge of his knot, only to slam back in with a brutal snap of his hips. The cry that tore from your throat was equal parts pleasure and protest as your vision blurred. "Oh, f-fuck—too much—"

He pinned your wrists above your head with one hand, the other gripping your thigh hard enough to bruise while his hips pistoned in short, punishing strokes that forced out medium-pitched moans. "Nah, just right," he growled against your pulse, tongue lapping at the sweat beading along your throat. "You're takin' it perfect." His knot pulsed violently, locking deeper with each thrust as the couch groaned.

Remmick dragged your leg over his shoulder, the new angle forcing his cock impossibly deeper until your breath came in ragged sobs. "That's it," he purred as he watched your stomach bulge obscenely with each thrust. "Gonna fuck ya full, make sure you feel me for days." His knot stretched you to the brink as precum leaked from where you were joined, the scent of sex thick in the air.

You couldn't form words anymore, only gasping and writhing as the pleasure coiled tight in your belly. Every drag of his cock against your oversensitive walls pushed you closer, the pressure of his knot stretching you just shy of pain, making your thighs tremble violently. The large knot rhythmically grinds against your G-spot while simultaneously rutting as deeply, the head of his cock repeatedly slamming into your cervix.

His growl vibrated through your chest as he felt your walls flutter around him, claws digging into your skin while his thrusts turned erratic. "There it is," his voice was thick with want against your sweat-slicked throat, fangs scraping where your pulse hammered. "Gonna cum so hard your pretty lil' cunt milks this knot dry." His hips snapped forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt as his knot swelled impossibly larger, locking you together.

You arched beneath him with a broken cry, your body tightening around his cock in rhythmic pulses that dragged a groan from his throat. He watched, mesmerized, as tears of overstimulation streaked your flushed cheeks, your pleasure so intense it bordered on pain while his knot stretched you beyond reason. "That's it, sweetheart," he murmured against your parted lips, hips grinding in slow circles to prolong your climax. "Take it all."

Your vision whited out as the overwhelming fullness tipped you over the edge, nails raking down his back as your thighs trembled violently. The stretch burned—god, it burned—but the relentless pressure against your deepest parts sent shockwaves of pleasure through you until you couldn't tell where the pain ended, and the ecstasy began.

"Remmick—" His name came out as a shattered sob when his knot pulsed inside you again.

His fangs sank into your shoulder as your cunt clamped down around him, drinking your moans like fine wine while his own release ripped through him—hot, thick spurts flooding your depths as his knot locked you together. "Fuck," he groaned against your skin, hips jerking erratically to press even deeper. "You're ruinin' me." His claws traced the curve of your waist possessively, savoring every twitch of your oversensitive body.

He finally stilled, panting against your throat while your walls continued to flutter weakly around him. "Christ," he murmured, tongue swiping lazily over the bite marks on your shoulder. "Think I might keep ya like this—all split open on my cock, takin' every drop." His knot pulsed lazily inside, still too swollen to pull out.

His arms slid beneath your trembling form, dragging you flush against his chest as he rolled his hips in slow circles. Just enough to make you whimper against his shoulder. "Still sensitive, love?" he asked, fangs grazing your earlobe while his knot ground against your oversensitive walls. "Good. Wanna feel you tremble 'round me a while longer."

You closed your eyes as the friction sent sparks dancing behind your eyelids, and you clutched at his shoulders, your breath hitching with each deliberate movement. "T-too much," you panted out, nails digging into his back when his knot pulsed inside you again, the swollen ridge stretching your tender flesh.

He dragged your body tighter against his chest, one hand splaying possessively across your lower back while the other tangled in your hair. "Fuckin' perfect," his breath fanned against your pulse, hips grinding deep enough to make you mewl and pant. "You're takin' me so sweet—gonna keep ya stuffed full like this all night."

"A-All night?!" You stammer, whimpering every time he moved.

"Mmm, all night," one hand slides down to palm the slight swell of your belly where his cock stretches you. "Though I do wonder..." A sinful smirk appears as his hips grind deep. "Accordin' to legends, a Vampire's seed is potent."

Your breath hitches as his fingers press into the slight bulge where his knot pulsed inside you, thighs trembling at the implication. "Y-You—" You gasp, only to cry out when he rolls his hips in slow circles, his knot dragging against your G-spot. The thought alone sends an unexpected jolt of heat through your body.

"What's wrong, darlin'?" he taunts, hips grinding deeper just to feel you shudder. "Don't think your womb can take it?" His knot pulses again, thick and insistent.

Would it even take since it's not your fertile window?

"Oh, it'll take,'" he promises. "Gonna breed ya so full," he growls against your parted lips, hips grinding in slow circles that drag ragged sobs from your throat.

Your thighs tremble violently around his hips as another wave of pleasure-pain crashes through you, the stretch burning gloriously while his knot pulses in time with your fluttering walls. "Oh god—" you moan, vision blurring when his fangs scrape your collarbone possessively, "y-you're too deep—"

The growl that rips from his throat sounds more beast than man as he pins your hips flush against his, the swollen base of his cock visibly stretching your abdomen. "Shhh..." he whispers against your damp throat, tongue tracing your erratic pulse while his claws draw possessive circles around the bulge in your belly. "Just takin' what's mine—you're womb's beggin' for it, darlin'."

His next thrusts lose all semblance of control—short, brutal snaps of his hips that make the couch groan beneath you. "Fuck," he snarls into your throat, fangs sinking deeper into your skin without warning as his knot pulses.

Remmick's grip turns bruising while he fucks into you with animalistic desperation. The scent of blood mingles with sex as his fangs reopen old bite marks along your throat, his voice dropping to a guttural growl that vibrates through you. "Mine," he snarls between ragged breaths, hips pistoning erratically as his knot slides deeper with each thrust. "Mine to fuck, mine to breed, gonna pump ya full till it takes." His cock pulses violently, hotter than flesh should be.

Tears streak your flushed cheeks as you claw at his back, thighs quaking around his hips while his thrusts grow more erratic. "R-Remmick—" you gasp, voice breaking.

"That's it," he says, his claws digging crescent marks into your hips. "Take every fuckin' inch—gonna paint your womb white."

Remmick's crimson eyes reflect nothing but primal hunger now, pupils blown wide with rut-driven need as his knot throbs inside your trembling body. "Christ, you're perfect," he rasps against your throat, tongue laving over your frantic pulse. "You weren't made for mortal men. Gonna ruin you for anyone else." His hips roll in short, desperate circles, dragging ragged cries from your throat with each movement that drags his swollen knot against your deepest spots.

His growl reverberated through your chest as his hips snapped forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt, his cock twitches wildly, locking you together with a wet squelch. "Fuck," he gasps against your throat, claws sinking into the flesh of your hips while hot spurts flood you deep. "Take it all."

Remmick's knot refused to soften, still thick and throbbing inside your quivering body despite having just came. He chuckled against your throat when your walls fluttered weakly around him again. "Christ, still suckin' me dry," he groaned, rolling his hips in slow circles that made you whine.

He moans as your walls involuntarily squeeze him sporadically, hips thrusting forward even though the knot made it difficult for him to move, but it only added to your pleasure. His primal need to breed and claim you intensified.

"Still so fuckin' tight," he hissed against your collarbone, lips tracing possessively over old bite marks. His knot pulses violently inside, stretching you wide while cum leaks from where you're still locked together.

He intentionally grinds against your womb, making you cry out and convulse around him.

"There's my good girl," he praises, hips grinding slow and deep. "Takin' my knot like you were made for it." His claws trace idle patterns on your trembling belly where his cock stretches you.

"Christ, look at ya," he snarls. His knot pulses rhythmically inside you. "Already stretchin' so pretty 'round me, wonder how much deeper I can go." His hips roll in slow, deliberate circles that grind his cock against your cervix, drawing a shattered moan from your lips.

His claws dig into your thighs as he drags your body impossibly closer, the wet squelch of your joined flesh obscenely loud in the room. "Gonna fuck you so deep," he purrs against the damp skin of your throat, tongue lapping at your frantic pulse, "Your womb'll know my shape better'n yer own."

The swollen head of his cock rests right against the opening to your womb. The slit leaks precum inside your cervix. With every twitch or pulse, his cock pushes harder.

"Christ, your womb's suckin' me in," he snarls against your skin, hips rolling in deep to make you whimper.

Your cervix flutters weakly against the swollen head of his cock, drawing a guttural moan from his throat. His voice drops to a dark purr. "That's it—take every fuckin' drop like the greedy lil' thing you are."

His growl turns inhuman when the tip of his cock unexpectedly slips deeper, barely stretching your cervix as you cry out. "Fuck," he moans, hips jerking instinctively.

Remmick’s girth forces your womb wider until the swollen tip breaches completely. Your choked sob vibrates through his chest when the first ridges slip past the tight ring of muscle. "There we go, sweetheart—takin' me right where I belong."

The overwhelming pleasure makes you cum harder than before, your muscles quiver and suck him deeper.

"Look at you," he croons, completely infatuated. "All stuffed full'a me, your womb's suckin' me in like it knows what it's for."

His hips piston erratically, his sac draws up tight against you, heavy and aching as your inner muscles milk him relentlessly. Remmick’s breath hitches when your cervix flutters weakly around the head of his cock, dragging a ragged snarl from his throat as the first hot spurt floods your deepest part.

"Didn't know I'd breed you this deep—fuck, fuck—" The words dissolve into animalistic grunts as his hips jerk uncontrollably, pulses of thick seed flood your womb in relentless waves, far more than any human could produce.

He groaned. The sheer volume makes your abdomen bulge visibly, each hot spurt accompanied by his feral growls.

Remmick snarls between ragged breaths, hips jerking erratically as another thick spurt floods you deep. "Can't...stop." His voice breaks as your cervix milks him relentlessly, drawing out his release far beyond human limits.

The overwhelming stretch of his knot, the relentless pulse of his cum flooding you, was too much. Your vision tunneled as your thighs trembled violently. A strangled gasp escapes you before your entire body goes limp, consciousness slipping away beneath the tide of unbearable pleasure-pain.

He notices the moment your lashes flutter shut, your body going pliant as his claws dig possessively into your hips, his growl darkens when he feels your pulse stutter under his fangs. "Oh no ya don't," he rasps against your throat, grinding his knot deeper into your unconscious heat with a wet squelch. "You don't get to faint 'til I'm done with you."

Consciousness flickers back in waves, first the scent of iron and sex thick in the air, then the unbearable stretch of his knot still pulsing inside you. A weak whimper escapes your swollen lips before you can stop it, thighs trembling against his relentless grip.

"Shit, even out, yer cunt's beggin' for more," he snarls, hips rolling in slow circles that make your belly bounce with each movement. "Gods, you're greedy even in your sleep, ain't you? Takin' me so deep—" He punctuated the words with a sharp thrust that made you jerk, your inner walls fluttering violently around him.

"There's my good girl," he purrs. "Thought I'd have to fuck ya awake. Ready to make me a daddy, darlin'?"

Your breath comes in shallow gasps as consciousness fully returns, the overwhelming fullness making your thighs two where they're pinned beneath his hips. "C-can't—" you choke out, voice wrecked, only for another thick pulse of his release to flood you deep, the wet heat drawing a broken sob from your swollen lips. Your fingers rake weakly against the couch beneath you, nails catching in the fibers as your oversensitive walls flutter helplessly around his monstrous girth.

"Aw, darlin'," he purrs, rolling the sensitive clit between his fingers with deliberate slowness, "you say that like it matters." His hips grind with a wet squelch, the dual sensation wrenching a ragged scream from your throat.

Your vision whites out as another brutal orgasm tears through you, your womb clamping down violently around him while your thighs tremble uncontrollably. The sheer overload of sensation leaves you gasping like a landed fish, your swollen lips forming silent pleas as his seed floods deeper with each pulsing throb of his monstrous knot.

He crashes his mouth against yours in a sloppy, possessive kiss. His tongue invades with the same primal hunger as his cock. The taste of copper and sweat mingles as he swallows your moans, fangs nicking your lower lip when you whimper. "That's it," he rasps against your swollen lips, "take it all like the greedy lil' cum slut ya are."

Your vision tunnels again as white-hot pleasure lances through you, every nerve ending screaming beneath his relentless assault. The swollen head of his cock grinds impossibly deep with each shallow thrust, your abdomen visibly rounding further with every hot pulse of his release. Your thighs twitch weakly where they're pinned beneath his hips, your voice reduced to breathless whimpers as you flutter helplessly around him.

Consciousness slips away like water through your fingers. The last thing you register is the predatory gleam in his crimson eyes before darkness swallows you whole. The firelight flickers low by the time his rut finally subsides, his knot deflating just enough to slip free with an obscene wet sound as you lie limp and spent on the couch.

It's morning when you stir again, every muscle screaming in protest as you blink at the canopy above. Realizing you were in your bedroom. The scent of sex and iron still clings to your skin, your thighs sticky with dried fluids as you attempt to sit up, only to collapse back with a whimper. Your abdomen feels strangely heavy, fingertips brushing over skin still tender from use.

The door creaks open before you can attempt moving again. Remmick’s silhouette framed against the hallway light with a silver tray balanced effortlessly in one hand. The rich aroma of scrambled eggs, bacon and honeyed tea cuts through the musk of spent passion as he steps inside, his smirk visible even in the dimly lit room.

"Awake at last," he says, setting the tray beside you before perching on the bed’s edge. His knuckles brush your swollen lower belly with deliberate possessiveness. "Figured you'd need replenishin’ after takin’ me so deep."

Your breath hitches as his touch reignites phantom pulses of pleasure deep within your abused womb, the soreness between your thighs flaring hot when you shift slightly. "Y-you—" The words dissolve into a hoarse whisper, your throat raw from screaming. Your fingers clutch at the sheets as you gaze up at him, your legs tremble at the slightest movement.

He lifts a forkful of eggs toward your lips; his other hand splayed possessively over your lower belly where his cum still weighs heavily inside. "Open wide, darlin'," he says, crimson eyes glinting with dark amusement when you hesitate. "It's time for breakfast." His thumb brushes your sensitive and swollen clit, making you jolt. "Or shall I fill that pretty mouth another way?"

[cheshireliam]

"Surprise Bag 2026" April Fools Special Story: Prologue?

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.┊Read this before interacting

Life as a Fairytale Keeper, surrounded by Cursed Ones with their wild and unique personalities, was equal parts thrilling and unpredictable. 

And today, something outrageous happened again — something that would leave me at a loss for how to respond.

…

【 CROWN CASTLE ; DINING HALL 】

Kate: Good morning, Jude. 

When I headed to the dining hall for breakfast, Jude was already there leisurely sipping tea while reading the daily paper. 

At my greeting, he looked up from the page and gave me a gentle smile. 

Jude?: Mornin’.

(… Huh? That’s strange. He usually sounds way more curt… what’s going on?) 

Did something good happen to him, perhaps? I wondered, tilting my head in confusion, and just then— 

Jude?: Yer lookin’ real pretty today, Kate. Startin’ my mornin’ with that smile of yers, I’m feelin’ energized already. 

— The words coming out of his mouth were so uncharacteristically sweet that I froze in shock. There was no way they were coming from Jude. 

Kate: Are you feeling alright, Jude!? Are you sick!? Where did your usual trashy attitude go—!?

(Wait. We’ve had this exact conversation before, haven’t we…?) 

William?: Oi! The hell did ya do to me, ya quack!? 

The doors to the dining hall burst open without so much as a knock, and in stormed William, hurling rough and familiar sounding insults. 

William?: Tch. He ain’t in the dinin’ hall either? 

William?: Not once, but twice, ya done dragged me into this body swap bullshit…! 

It finally clicked.

(This… happened before.)

(Roger’s medicine that made everyone swap bodies…) 

Previously, it was Jude with Ellis, and Alfons with Elbert. 

Kate: Then… that means… the one in William’s body right now is actually Jude.

Kate: And the one in Jude’s body… is William? 

If that was the case, then it made perfect sense for those sweet words to come from “Jude”. 

Jude?: I’m the real Jude, y’know. Don’t go mixin’ me up with that fake.

Kate: Huh? What? 

Jude: … Oi, William. The hell ya think ya doin’, prancin’ around pretendin’ to be me? I’ll knock yer teeth in.

William: Fufu. Our bodies have already been swapped anyways, it’d be a waste not to enjoy while it lasts. 

With a delighted smile, William — in Jude’s body — gracefully and elegantly took a sip from his teacup.

William: Well then, if Roger’s the culprit like last time, there should be at least one more pair of guys who’ve been swapped…

Darius?: Good morning, everyone! The cake I left to rest overnight turned out absolutely scrumptious! 

Darius?: It tastes so divine, I simply must let everyone in Crown have a taste— 

Darius?: … Hm? Why do all of you look so exhausted? 

Just then, the dining hall’s doors were flung open and an unmistakably upset Victor stormed inside. 

Victor?: … Honestly, what were they thinking, swapping my body with such a brute?

Victor?: Mind if I cut this ridiculously long hair? It keeps snagging every time I walk. I hate it. 

William: I see. Looks like Victor and Darius have swapped as well. 

(Of all people… it had to be these two…) 

Kate: W-Wait, Darius! You can't just casually cut off Victor’s beautiful hair…! 

Darius: Hmm… then why don’t I cut your hair instead, Miss Fairytale Keeper? 

Darius took a step closer to me, fingers slipping into my hair and idly toying with the strands as he peered at me with a testing look. 

Kate: My hair doesn’t get in the way of me walking, okay!? 

Darius: I know. I just feel like blowing off some steam. Don’t run, okay? If my hand slips, I might cut your throat along with it.

Victor: STOOOOPP! Put the dangerous knife away first. Shouldn’t we focus on fixing this situation? 

Victor: We’re all victims of the same disaster here… let’s work together and get through this trouble.

William: … Hearing that coming from Darius’ mouth feels extremely wrong.

Jude: Ya got a knack for bein’ rude.

Darius: … I’d indeed like to say goodbye to this body as soon as possible myself. 

Darius: So? Where’s the mastermind? 

Victor: … Actually, this time it has nothing to do with Roger. 

Kate: What!? 

Victor: He’s been away on a remote assignment over the past few days. 

Jude: Then… how the hell we woke up in these bodies? 

Victor: No idea! But hey, maybe it’ll sort itself in a day or so. 

Jude: Ya bein’ half-assed. 

Darius: … Maybe this is all just a bad dream. 

William: Since we’re given the chance, we might as well make the most out of being in these bodies. 

(What's going to happen now…?) 

…

On April 1st, the nightmarish body-swap incident strikes again.

At that time, I didn’t realise that this was only the “opening act” of the most absurd comedy.

— To be continued. 

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[revelboo]

quick doodle about a thought I had earlier. Ya know how companies like to have pizza parties and events to distract their employees from the real problems? Food and Circus, really- anyway doodle of the higherups doing just that rather than face the problems with the bots

That’s so cute and HR absolutely would do that💕 I’m hopefully leaving work early today because I just found out I need to cook for tomorrow. Yay. I’m not crying at all about it or trying to find anything at the store last minute

Soft AU-Treat

Swerve x Reader

• Inhaling slowly as you stare at the space that’s been set up, you think of the carnivals you’d gone to as a kid. Games, snacks, cheap prizes. “Just so we’re all on the same page,” you say as you glance at the person nearest you. “Everyone realizes this is what the higher-ups did instead of actually dealing with the complaints we all keep sending in and that we’re here after hours and not getting paid for it, right?” And the person nearest you laughs harshly. “Okay. Good,” you mutter, drifting over to a stall with snacks.

• Hunting for you as he moves through the base, Swerve hesitates when he hears music start playing. What is that? Knows some of the base workers had been rushing around, frantically setting up something in a far corner away from the habsuites, but he hadn’t been that interested in it. Humans doing weird human things not that interesting unless it’s you, but the noise is new and he’s bored without you. And it’s not like there’s much to do since they’re encouraged to not leave the base. Drifting that way, he vents and makes a face when he smells the weird scent of human food. ‘Any idea what’s going on?’ Hound asks and he glances over at the other bot. No, but he wants to find out. Especially since he can’t find you. Not that he’d gone explicitly looking, but you didn’t leave for the day, your vehicle is still here. “I think the humans are having a party without us.”

• Picking apart cotton candy with your fingers, you cringe slightly at the sweetness. How had you eaten this as a kid? Wandering over to where two caretakers are dancing along to the prompts on the screen, you bite your lip. Never seen anyone flail like that while playing Just Dance, scowling like they’re personally offended by the game. Or maybe that’s just their concentration face. You kind of bet it’s also their sex face as you try not to laugh. Turning when someone shrieks, you freeze seeing one of those creepy bug mechs stalking toward the popcorn machine, its antenna up as it hisses to make a caretaker nearby dart away. And it ignores all of you to push the machine over, clawed servos prying the door off as it crouches and starts shoveling popcorn in its awful, toothy maw. Those things eat food? Thought all the aliens just drank energon. Head lifting at a chitter, you back up a step when you see another perched on the wall staring.

• Engine rumbling when he hears a scream, he vents and moves faster, Hound right behind him. And he stumbles to a stop, greeted by absolute chaos. Little humans running everywhere as the Insecticons tear into anything that looks like it might even remotely be food. Not just them, either. Staring at Waspinator with his face shoved down in something, the mech’s wings buzz as his head lifts, face covered in pink fuzz while his huge optics stare before he just smashes his face down in the machine again, mandibles flexing. Doesn’t even want to know what that’s about. Where are you? Hopefully nowhere near here. Radioing Optimus for help, he tries to herd the humans away from the bugs and spots you.

• Able to breathe again when you spot Swerve, you grab another caretaker trying to berate one of the giant bugs for being rude like it’s a giant puppy and you drag them toward the Autobot. ‘They’re usually so nice,’ they say worriedly as they let you pull them to safety. Don’t know what they’ve been lighting up, but there’s nothing nice about those toothy fuckers. Is this their caretaker? “You okay?” Swerve asks, crouching and cupping his hands around you both like he’s trying to shield you and you wince when Inferno arrives and just hoses an Insecticon in the face, bowling it over. “I’m thinking we should be anywhere but here,” Swerve adds and your skin prickles when one of the bugs screeches. ‘Seconded.’

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

📊 How to Use Tropes Without Turning Your Story into a YA Checklist

You can tell when a book was written by vibes and TVTropes alone.

It’s got: ☑️ the reluctant chosen one ☑️ the love triangle ☑️ the mysterious brooding boy™ ☑️ the sassy best friend ☑️ the dead parents ☑️ the villain with daddy issues ☑️ the scene where someone says “you don’t know what I’m capable of” and walks away dramatically

And like… that’s fine.

Tropes are tools. But here’s the thing: they are starting points, not story goals.

If your plot reads like it was drafted by a checklist in a Pinterest caption, it might be time to recalibrate. Here's how to actually use tropes without turning your book into a YA Mad Libs generator:

─────── ✦ ───────

🧩 Tropes Are Patterns--Not Presets

A trope is a pattern, not a requirement. It’s not a law. It’s not a plug-and-play feature. And it’s definitely not your plot.

The “enemies-to-lovers” arc? That’s a container. What you put inside it, that’s where the originality lives.

The goal isn’t to avoid tropes. It’s to do something interesting with them.

→ Why are they enemies? → What does the “love” cost them? → What happens if they fail to become lovers?

Tropes don’t carry the story. The conflict does.

─────── ✦ ───────

⚔️ Complicate the Familiar

Here’s a trick: if a trope feels too easy, break it in half.

Examples: → “Reluctant chosen one” → okay, but what if they wanted it, and then hated it once they got it? → “The mentor dies” → cool, but what if the mentor fakes their death to manipulate the protagonist? → “Sassy best friend” → no. Make them real. Give them pain. Give them depth. No more walking punchlines.

Tropes are scaffolding, not shortcuts. Add weight. Add doubt. Add betrayal.

─────── ✦ ───────

🕳️ Interrogate Why You’re Using It

Ask yourself: → Do I love this trope or do I feel like I have to include it? → Am I doing this because I’ve seen it done… or because it serves my story? → Is this trope the only interesting thing about this scene?

If your answer is “because that’s what YA stories do,” delete it. Go deeper.

─────── ✦ ───────

💔 Tropes Aren’t Substitutes for Character Arcs

You can’t use “grumpy x sunshine” and call it development. Tropes are flavors, not meals.

Give us: → Choices with consequences. → Conflicting values. → Character growth that costs something.

Otherwise? Your grumpy guy is just a Pinterest moodboard with a pulse.

─────── ✦ ───────

🧨 Use Reader Expectations Against Them

You want to use a trope and not make it predictable? Weaponize it.

Example: → Start with a love triangle. Let the MC fall hard. Then have both love interests realize they’re in love with each other. → Use the “chosen one” trope… but make it about dismantling that myth entirely. → Introduce the “villain redemption arc” and let them choose to stay bad because it makes more sense for them.

Set up the pattern. Then snap it in half. That’s how you surprise a jaded reader.

─────── ✦ ───────

Final thoughts from your local trope goblin:

→ Tropes aren’t the problem. It’s treating them like a checklist instead of a narrative engine. → A good trope doesn’t make your story good. How you twist it does. → If a story reads like it was built from Tumblr quotes and nothing else—it’s gonna flop.

So go ahead. Use the trope. Then ruin it. Make it weird. Make it hurt. Make it yours.

—rin t. // story mechanic. trope thief. YA bingo card burner. // thewriteadviceforwriters

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5 Opening Pages Mistakes to Stop Making — A Mini eBook for Fiction Writers

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🕯️ download the pack & write something cursed:

Write the Darkness: 75 Dark Academia x Horror Prompts

A gothic prompt pack for writers who love cursed universities, secret societies, and scholarly rot.✎ Write the Darkness ✎A 75-prompt horror

[socgf]

better left unsaid - dallas winston x reader

it's valentine's day, and reader finds something she shouldn't have in dally's room.

wc: 959

warnings: none just fluff <3

it's not like you had any crazy expectations for what dallas winston had in mind for valentine's day. sure, you spent all your time with each other. you'd gotten real close, in every sense of that word. but he would avoid that commitment conversation like the plague, so you weren't exactly expecting a declaration of love or a bouquet of roses.

but flat out acting like the holiday didn't exist? that was just too far.

the two of you had just left buck's after you'd spent the afternoon doing homework on his bed while he sat around bothering you. like every friday night, dally had stolen the thunderbird to take you to the nightly double. but this was just a routine occurrence, of course. not like he would ever believe in such a mushy holiday.

still, you'd hoped for something - a box of chocolate, some grocery store flowers, maybe a card. you try to take your mind off it as dally puts his foot on the gas, fiddling with his pockets haphazardly.

suddenly, his face scrunches up in frustration and he grumbles, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he cuts the gas. 

"hey. do me a favor, will ya? grab my smokes from my desk. top drawer on the left." 

you roll your eyes but go back anyway. his room is the usual mess - clothes draped over the chair, a couple beer bottles on the windowsill, your textbooks and notes spread out on the bed. you yank the drawer open, already expecting to have to dig past god-knows-what to find the cigarettes.

instead, you find a stack of papers shoved carelessly to the side.

you don't mean to snoop, but something about them seems out of the ordinary. it's not like he's the type to be keeping a diary, but these aren't just receipts or homework. as you take a closer look, you see they're notebook pages crumpled at the edges, ripped out hastily, the ink a bit smudged and messy. 

then you see the date at the top of the first one. an entry from over a year ago. you hesitate for a moment, knowing this must be personal. a flicker of guilt runs through you, but you can't help paging through the headers on the first couple of slips. you swear you can make out your name somewhere between the lines, and against your better judgment, you start reading.

november 5th, 1963

she fell asleep on my shoulder at the drive-in today. she really needs to stop doing that. swear i almost decked steve in his face for laughing at it, but i knew she'd hate if i did it. it's funny, she fucking mumbles in her sleep. i swear she said my name a couple times under her breath. i acted like i didn't hear it but i can't stop thinking about it.

january 17th, 1964

she had to babysit pony today and she dragged me along to keep her company. i was supposed to do a run for buck, but i'll have to figure that out later. it's funny, she was real apologetic about it, like i'm ever gonna be mad that i have to spend time with her.

april 28th, 1964

we were watching some stupid rerun in her living room and i guess i must've been exhausted. she started running her fingers through my hair all sweet like she always does, messing it up. didn't have the energy to tell her to knock it off. next thing i know i wake up laying down on her side. she says i knocked out. whatever.

august 12th, 1964

buck decided to go sticking his nose where he doesn't belong last night… asking me about her. why i won't make it official? make what official? i come to her window every damn night. she lays on my shoulder and tells me all her secrets. not like i let anyone else make me act that way. that's official enough for me, far as i'm concerned.

november 1st, 1964

i swear she did something different with her hair today, or maybe her makeup or something, or her outfit. whatever it was. i just couldn't stop staring at her. she's so pretty it makes me forget what i'm thinking when i look at her…christ, i'm sounding like a fucking sap. if buck ever found this, i would have to kill him.

december 9th, 1964

i found her crying today when i walked in. i wanted to hug her or something, kiss her on the forehead and make everything better. i didn't. just sat there smoking by her side until she stopped, let her get everything off her chest. then she had the nerve to say 'thank you dal,' like i did anything special. i have no idea what the hell she sees in me.

january 28th, 1965

glory, she's got the worst taste in music. i told her that today and she threw a fucking pillow at me. truth is i would listen to the beatles for the rest of my goddamn life if it meant she let me lay in her bed and listen to her sing along. it's cute.

february 3rd, 1965

if she finds these i'm gonna have to tell her it's for an english assignment or something. no, never mind. even she wouldn't believe that. man, i'm fucked.

you reach the last entry in the pile, this one laid out nicely with neater handwriting, on a fresh sheet of paper:

february 14th, 1965

if you find this, happy valentine's day. figured there's no point in keeping these a secret. i'm sorry i'm not better at saying it. you should know i'm not much for words. but i mean everything i wrote, doll, swear.

a.n. writing this made my heart all warm and fuzzy haha happy (late) valentine's day guys!!! hope you like it!

[heliosunny]

No Backsies

Yandere!Boothill x Reader

You were still catching your breath when you felt his hand clamp firmly around your arm, steadying you before you could tumble backward off the wall. You looked up. That guy - the same white hair, black streaks you saw last night on the street.

“Well, look at that” he said, “Should’ve figured you’d be the type to climb walls. Makes my job real easy, though.”

You tried to laugh it off, tugging your wrist free. “Haha… guess you caught me. So we’re good, right? We can forget this?”

He laughed “Forget it? C’mon. If I let you slide, I’d be out of a job.”

He flipped open a slim black notebook, pages scrawled with names and tiny notes. He turned it so you could see your name, already underlined twice.

“You got a cute signature, by the way,” he said, tapping his pen against it. “Late, trespassing,… gonna be fun explaining this to your homeroom.”

“Wait! You can’t just-”

“Hey, rules are rules. Break ‘em, pay for ‘em.”

He slid the pen behind his ear. “I’m not your friend. I’m just the guy who keeps the scoreboard honest. So… better luck next time, yeah?”

He turned away, hands shoved in his pockets. “Try the front gate tomorrow. Might save you the trouble of runnin’ into me.”

And just like that, your class points were gone, and so was he.

You couldn’t let him win that easy. Later you found out his name - Boothill.

So you planned your first real prank. A chalk eraser rigged over the council office door, ready to drop a fine, dusty cloud right on that stupid hair the moment he strolled in.

Your best friend caught you stuffing the eraser into your bag during lunch break.

“You, pulling a prank? On Boothill?” She flicked your forehead. “Good luck, genius. Why not go for something better?”

“Better?” you asked, rubbing your forehead.

“Yeah,” she said, smirking. “Make him fall for you. Break that icy heart, then dump him in front of everyone.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving the eraser deeper in your bag. “I’m not running a soap opera. One prank, and that's it.”

Turns out, one prank wasn’t enough. It wasn’t anything, because Boothill saw it coming from ten meters away.

“Aw, come on. You think I haven’t seen the eraser-on-the-door trick since primary?” Boothill’s laugh rumbled in his chest as he stepped closer. You spun around, and nearly bumped right into him. He held the chalk eraser in one hand like it was a dead mouse.

“You know, if you’re gonna try and prank me, at least be original. Or… maybe you just like my attention, huh?”

He dropped the eraser into your hands, brushing chalk dust off his coat. Then he was gone, leaving you alone in the hall.

You’d given up, or at least that’s what you told yourself. The pranks didn’t work. The eraser failed. The water bucket failed. The glitter bomb? You didn’t even get to set it up.

You were late again, overslept. This time, though, it wasn’t Boothill waiting at the wall.

By recess you were back in your usual seat, eating bread with your friend and planning tonight’s freedom. “So,” she said, mouth half full of rice cracker. “Movie or karaoke? Wait.. You didn't tell me about Boothill.”

“I’m done with him.”

She snorted. “Coward. I told you, break his heart instead.”

You shoved the rest of your bread in her mouth to shut her up, which only made her laugh harder.

When the last bell rang, you stayed behind, wiping chalk dust off the blackboard and sweeping the crumbs from the floor.

When you finally stepped out, there he was. “Well, look who it is.” he said, pushing off the wall with that annoying catlike grace. “Gave up already, huh, sunshine?”

You scowled. “Sunshine?”

“What? That’s you. Right? … Wait. What was your name again?”

“You forgot?”

He just shrugged, “Hey, I catch a lotta rule-breakers. Hard to keep up. ‘Sides, sunshine suits ya.”

He brushed past you, shoulder knocking yours on purpose. “Anyway, keep it up. Gives me somethin’ fun to do.”

You stood frozen, watching his back as he disappeared down the hall. Your phone buzzed - your bestie, blowing it up with “Movie tonight? Or pranking plan?”

You glared at the message, then at the empty hall. Fine. If he wanted a nickname, he’d get one, and a heartbreak to match.

Your bestie didn’t just rope you in, she basically drafted a full-on script. By the time lunch break rolled around, you and your three partners-in-crime were ready.

You stood cornered near the old vending machine, tray of half-eaten lunch on the floor, one friend looming with arms crossed, another talks just loud enough for people to definitely hear.

“Seriously? You’re dragging all of us down. Maybe we shouldn’t let you sit with us anymore.”

“Next time you screw up, don’t expect us to cover for you.”

You acted out your role perfectly: the pitiful, stubborn “weak link”.

A few students threw glances your way. Some giggled, some whispered. Then a familiar shape blocked out the hallway light.

“You kids runnin’ your mouths in public, real brave, huh?”

They turned, freezing on cue. Boothill’s gaze swept over them. “Didn’t your folks teach ya not to pick on easy targets? Kinda pathetic, ain’t it?”

Your bestie, bless her inner theater kid, rolled her eyes at him, scoffing like a brat. “Stay out of it. This is our problem.”

“‘Fraid not.”

He tugged you by the wrist, pulling you out of the circle of “bullies” with zero effort.

“Go pick a new hobby, yeah?”

You cleared your throat, tugging your wrist free, trying not to grin like an idiot.

“…Thanks. I could’ve handled it myself, though.”

“Sure, Sunshine. Looked real tough in there, cryin’ in front of the soda machine.”

You bristled, flicking a piece of dust off your sleeve for dramatic effect. “I wasn’t crying.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

When the final bell rang, you found him waiting outside your classroom door. “C’mon. I’m walkin’ you home today. Gotta make sure no one tries somethin’ dumb again.”

Your bestie peeked around the corner as you left, giving you a massive double thumbs-up - the worst secret spy in history. You bit your tongue to keep from laughing.

----

Now you just had to keep him hooked long enough to break that stupid, smug grin right off his face.

The next few days you played your part like you were born for it. After the whole “bullied in the canteen” act, you made sure to pop up around him just enough to keep your hooks in. Not clingy, just coincidentally there. Like fate had a sense of humor.

One afternoon, you waited outside the student council room, pretending to scroll your phone, until the door cracked open and the other council members drifted out in pairs.

Boothill was last, twirling his keys on one finger. When he spotted you, he arched a brow. “You waitin’ for me?”

You made a show of looking startled, then awkwardly thrust the little carton of milk at him. “You’ve been busy. Thought you’d forget lunch again.”

He snorted, flicking the straw attached to the side. “Gonna bribe me with milk now?”

“Or you could give it back.”

He just popped the straw in, taking a slow, obnoxious sip right in front of you. “Too late.”

He tossed the empty carton in the trash the second you turned the corner.

A few days later, you got your chance.

It started with the old lady who sometimes set out food by the front gate after school. You’d seen her chatting with Boothill once, handing him a bag of mandarins while he pretended not to look too soft about it.

So when you overheard her muttering about Momo - her fat orange cat who liked to wander off - you knew exactly what to do. You trailed that dumb cat for half an hour through muddy backstreets, past someone’s garden, behind the convenience store dumpsters. Momo hissed at you twice, but you snatched her up anyway, ignoring the tiny claws scratching your arm.

You were just rounding the corner back to the old lady’s gate when Boothill appeared.

He froze when he saw you - filthy, hugging that fat orange gremlin. “You steal people's pet now?”

You glared at him through Momo’s tail. “She was lost. Mrs. Oda was worried.” You jutted your chin at the tiny old lady standing just behind him, covering her mouth in relief.

When you handed Momo over, Mrs. Oda fussed over you, patting your cheek and pressing two candy drops into your palm. Boothill just watched.

When the old lady shuffled inside, he kicked a pebble at your shoe. “Look at you. Little hero, huh?”

You wiped cat hair off your shirt. “Someone had to.” He cracked his neck, glancing sideways at you as he fell into step beside you, “Next time she calls, lemme know. I’ll help.”

You gave him your most innocent grin. “Aw, look at you. Playing hero, too.”

Behind you, from the corner of the street, your bestie and the other two peeked out from behind the mailbox, giving you silent jazz hands of victory.

Now all you had to do was keep the “coincidences” coming until he fell so hard he wouldn’t see you cutting the strings.

You’d done it all. And still.. nothing.

So when you saw him standing outside the school gate with his usual crew, something in you just snapped. You stomped up, right past his friends’ curious stares, right into his personal space. He arched a brow at you, amused as usual.

“You lose somethin’ again? Or you wanna-”

“I like you!” you blurted, louder than you meant to. “So go out with me. Or not. Whatever.”

A silence fell over the group. Boothill’s friends all turned to stare, one of them coughed, the other bit his knuckle to keep from laughing. Boothill just stared at you for a second.

“...Huh. Sure. Okay.”

He slung an arm around your shoulders like he was claiming you on the spot. “Guess you’re mine now.”

His friends immediately burst into obnoxious whoops and catcalls. One of them punched his arm. Another shouted, “Took you long enough!”

You wished the ground would swallow you whole. This was not in the plan, but it was too late to take it back now.

From then on, he was everywhere.

In the morning, leaning against your locker door with a carton of milk. During breaks, draped lazily across your desk while you tried to study, flicking your pens off your notebook just to see you glare. After school, waiting by the gate like a bored bodyguard, walking you home even when you told him not to.

At first, you kept telling yourself it was just part of the plan. But it got harder to say that when he actually did care.

He noticed when you forgot your umbrella and handed you his instead, even if it meant he got drenched.

He pulled you away from suspicious creeps at the convenience store without a word, standing behind you.

He sat next to you in the library, head on your shoulder when he got bored of reading his own book.

And the worst part was… he looked so bored to everyone else. But with you, he was watching. Always. Like he couldn’t risk blinking in case you vanished.

One weekend, you found yourselves at a café - your choice. He ordered for you before you could even speak, like he’d memorized exactly what you’d want.

You stirred your drink. “Hey,” you asked, trying to sound casual. “You’ve… you’ve been in a relationship before, right?”

Boothill tilted his head, sipping his iced coffee through a straw he was definitely chewing just to annoy you. “Nah.”

“Seriously? No one?”

“You’re the first.”

“…Why?”

“Never seemed worth it. ‘Til now, anyway.”

Then he reached over, flicked a crumb off your cheek with that same annoying gentleness. You could only stare at him. You’d started this as a joke, a revenge plan, a petty prank. So why did it feel like you were the one losing now?

----

It wasn’t supposed to drag on this long. But every time he smiled at you, every time he waited outside your class, it got harder to remember why.

So you did the only thing left in your little revenge script. Blocked him on every app. Ignored his knock on your classroom door. Dodged his waiting shadow at the gate.

Your bestie covered for you, kept him busy.

You told yourself it would fade. He’d get bored, find someone else. Except he didn’t.

---

It was late, the rain smashing the windows like a thousand tiny fists. You were towel-drying your hair, half-listening to the thunder, when the doorbell rang. Your parents were at Grandpa’s house, your phone was dead.

You cracked the door open, ready to snap at some poor scammer. And froze.

Boothill stood there on your porch, soaked through like he’d walked straight out of the river. His bangs plastered to his forehead. One eye glared at you from under all that dripping hair.

You were so stunned you forgot to slam the door in his face. “...What the hell”

He pushed right past you. The rain hit your ankles where you stood barefoot. His wet coat brushed your arm.

“Hey-” you stammered, shutting the door before the storm could blow it off the hinges. “You’re soaked. You’re gonna catch a cold.”

You grabbed the towel off your shoulders and pressed it against his hair, mumbling something about idiots and umbrellas. He didn’t move, just let you fuss for about three seconds.

Then his hands clamped your wrists, stopping you mid-motion.

“You think you’re funny, huh? Blockin’ me. Hidin’. You really think that works on me?”

“Boothill-”

His grip tightened just enough to sting. His hair dripped onto your collarbone.

“You shoulda known better,” he murmured, leaning in until your foreheads touched, wet hair brushing your cheeks. “You shoulda known once we start somethin’ like this..”

He kissed you. You tried to breathe but he didn’t give you space, his hand fisted in the back of your hair, tilting your head like you’d try to run. When you gasped, he bit down, his teeth catching your lower lip hard enough to make you wince.

“There ain’t no backin’ out.”

His thumb dragged across your bitten lip, smearing the sting deeper.

“You run again? I’ll just drag you right back.”

He kissed the bruise he’d left, like an apology that wasn’t really one at all. Then his mouth ghosted your ear.

“Remember that next time you think about ghostin’ me, Sunshine.”