#allie’s fic collection 🤍

[decafdoodlez]

Fic Submission from @skuppenish 🖤

Note from @skuppenish: HEY SO I AM HOUSE SITTING, and the last time I was house sitting I wrote you a thing, so here, have another thing! Wooo! Warning: it's just straight PWP, whoops. 🫠 Also, it has minimal editing! DOUBLE WHOOPS 💀

word count: 2.9k

warnings/tags: NSFW | Dubcon, PWP, 100% Smut, written with AFAB OC x Canon in mind, captive/captor themes, power imbalance, age difference (all adults are 25+), nipple play, degradation, breeding themes, rough fucking, drawing blood/marking, overall Fox being a dirty old man with his sweet little babydoll, Rina~

“This is meant as a punishment, you know.” The words pour out of him through sharp, gritted teeth, through a moan, through a snarl. Despite the violence building up behind them – despite the need, and the hunger – he speaks slowly, each and every one delivered at a punishing, even cadence that matches the rhythm of his hips as buries his cock inside of her. “A pun-ish-ment,” he reiterates, drawing that particular one out as he slams his hips forward into her soft, plush ass, his steadily thickening cock filling her weeping cunt.

Marina doesn’t say anything. Marina buries her face in the soft, tangled sheets and cries, and cries, and cries, and it doesn’t matter how all those layers of fabric muffles the noise. Fox’s ears prickle, quirking at the sound, a wide and leering smile splitting his face. She can try to hide it as much as she wants, but he can hear it clear as day. There, now: there’s the music of her sobs, working through her body in waves. And there, there in a moan of her own is her voice pitched high and sweet like the peal of a church bell. 

He hears it as clear as any sinner would on a sunbright, Sunday morning. There’s no escaping it. Not that he’d want to –

Not that he’d ever want to.

It fills the room, no matter how she tries to smother it. It fills his ears, and his head, swelling up and building in his chest until he’s laughing, until his laughter joins her precious, mewling chorus. The way she cries, it’s a psalm, a hymn – a promise of heaven he’s far too rotten to ever deserve. Fox has a place waiting for him in hell, he’s sure of it. Once, he might have regretted that. Now, he acknowledges it gladly, and with all the eager selfishness of any of God’s own damned. 

Until the fires come to claim his black-rot soul, he will live this life on earth to its fullest.

He will take what is his to take.

“I’m sorry!” Her cheek is pressed into the bedding, now. He can see her face through the spill of her hair, fair skin flushed red through a spill of her pale gold hair. “I’m sorry – I’m sorry!” Now it's her turn, crying out her repentance in a sin-soaked rhythm. Now those words break off in pieces, shattered apart by each unrelenting thrust as he bottoms out in her tight pussy. I’m - so - rry! I’m - so - rry! The syllables are fragmented, choked and halting between sobs and hiccups. Cheeks gleaming in the low light, her face is wet and sweet with tears. Fox can imagine how they taste. Salt, salt, and more salt, so sweet, somehow, on his insatiable tongue.

He holds her hands behind her back, his fingers biting and vice-like around her wrists. With her pinned down and bent over the edge of the bed, he can look down at her and survey what’s his. Against his own legs, he can feel her own tremble, watch them, savor the sight of her thick, beautiful thighs as they quiver with each thrust. They’re white too, so pale, like snow, like cream, and a shudder works its way through his whole body as he reaches out with one clawed hand and buries it into the perfect curve of her hip.

White skin, pink scars – and now red, red, wet and red.

Like knives, his claws sink into her. Around them, Marina’s flesh gives way, soft and easy like her battered cunt does around his cock. He isn’t looking at that, though. He isn’t looking at her thigh. Rather his eyes are fixed on her face, savoring the way her head tilts back, the way her eyes, already closed, squeeze tighter. Transfixed and frozen like an addict before his favorite vice, he cannot look away from the way her sweet mouth parts around a broken shriek of pleasure-strangled pain. Whether it’s because she’s come to like the way his nails run ragged down her already-scarred flesh or because the way he’s angled his hips to drive the head of his drooling cock against a particularly sensitive spot within her is anyone’s guess – and Fox doesn’t particularly care. All that matters to him is that she’s unutterably lovely. All that matters is the hot, wet sensation of blood against his palm, and the even hotter, wetter sensation of her cunt fluttering around his cock.

“Oh, babydoll,” he says, shaking his head, clicking his tongue against his teeth. It’s an effort to maintain this veneer of calm; watching her is tearing him apart at the seams with each and every passing second. “You know sorry isn’t enough, don’t you? Don’t you?” Against her thigh, his fingers tighten, his nails digging ever deeper. That desperate scream in her throat has given way to another moan, another messy, pleading mewl, more tears, more hiccuped cries. He wishes he could bottle them up. He wishes he could bend down and take her beautiful face in his blood-wet hands and milk those cries out of her, tease and torment them out of her, filling her up again and again with his cock and with his cum –

Until she is emptied out of all of that pain and full of nothing else but him, and him, and him.

This is meant to be punishment. It is. And Fox wants it to be, he does, he really does. Wants it to hurt. Wants her to cry. Wants to rake his nails across every inch of Marina’s trembling form until every part of her perfect body is made even more perfect by his perverse adoration for her. Red wounds gone pink, pink scars gone white – and god, he thinks, fucking Christ. Her body is a masterpiece all on its own that he wants for himself. He wants to make it his in a way everyone can see, make every delicate and feminine curve of hers a roadmap of where he’s been and where he’s going –

Until everything is taken, conquered, claimed.

But she’s just so beautiful. Everything about her is. Beautiful and innocent somehow, no matter how he ruins her, no matter how many scars he gifts her, no matter how much she bleeds, or cries out, or cums like a whore on his cock. He calls her terrible things. He marks her, with wounds and his own cum, again and again, morning and day and night. Her pretty cunt is always so swollen. It’s always red, always puffy, always so tender, because he’s just so hungry, because he can’t stop fucking her, because his hunger for her is a terrible, brutal thing in him that can never be satisfied. Just one more time, he tells himself, every time. Just this one last time. Just this last taste.

The spell will break, and it will be over, and he will be free.

But Fox is an addict, and as an addict, it only ever gets worse. He only ever wants her more, and more, and more. And when Marina looks up at him with her wide, glazed eyes, lovely as lavender, cut-gem amethyst made luminous with tears – when he feels her cunt fluttering around his cock as he fucks her for the third or fourth time of the day – it’s like the first time again. It’s like the first time with her, every time.

Furiously, he grips her shoulder. He should fuck her like this, he tells himself, angry at his own lack of self-control. Keep fucking her like this, bent over the bed, like an animal would. Savage her. Break her. He’s broken her so many times before, broken her, put her back together, broken her again. She deserves it. She deserves it.

But god – god, he wants her. He wants her.

With his hand on her shoulder, his fingers wet and slick with blood, he wrenches her over and around until she’s on her back. There’s red on her thigh, and on her shoulder now, too. Red on his hand, copper scent heavy on the air, pennies on the tongue. That’s sweet, too. The sweetest perfume, the smell of her blood, the smell of her needy, wet cunt as he pushes himself back into her again, driving himself down until his balls slap at her ass.

Marina cries out. Maybe it’s the way his nails snag in her shoulder. Maybe it’s because of the frenzied way he’s humping into her, his cock swelling, his lips pulled back from his sharp, sharp teeth in an expectant, awful grin. Again, it doesn’t matter. What matters now is how badly he wants this. How badly he needs it.

How badly he wants her. How badly he needs her.

He wants her like a starving man wants for meat. Like a man suffocated needs air. He wants to fuck her. Needs to breed her. It’s a screaming, desperate sensation inside of him, millennia upon millennia of evolution, pins and needles in his extremities, a howl in his chest that claws its way up the length of his throat and snarls behind his teeth. It demands to be let out.

It demands to be sated.

Fox looks down at her and watches her as he bullies his cock inside of her. With each and every thrust, there, there, there: her perfect tits bounce, nipples swollen, budded tight and no doubt aching for him. His mouth waters as he watches them, and inside of her, his cock twitches, drooling the same way he does.

“It’s your fault,” he hears himself saying, his voice ragged, gone even more savage. “It’s your fucking fault, looking like this. God, you’re like a whore straight out of a hentai. Big tits, thick hips made to breed. God, Rina, you’re a perfect little fuckdoll – an onahole, the best little onahole, made perfect, made just to be fucked, made to be bred, made to take cock, again, again – fuck! – again!"

Again, Fox keeps saying, snarling. Again, again, over and over, in time to each devastating thrust. The hand at her shoulder lets go, moves down, catching her under her knee so he can pull her leg up and away. The other takes hold of one fat tit, his fingers spread out wide so he can savor the way her flesh pushes up between each of them.  He cups it, cradles it, pushing it up even as it spills around his hand, her skin so soft, flesh so warm.

It’s meant to be punishment. It is. It’s meant to be about his pleasure, and not hers, meant to make her feel bad because she’s been bad – because she’d had goddamn audacity to talk to someone when they’d been out shopping. Fox is too selfish to allow that.

Fox isn’t willing to share.

And Marina likes it like this, he knows. On her back, with him looking down at her, with his eyes bright and hungry, fixed on her own. She likes it when he touches her this way, his fingers full of her tits, his fingers inching up, taking hold of her swollen nipple, pinching it, rolling it between his fingers until she’s writhing for more reasons than the way his cock fills and stretches her.

But he can’t help himself. God help him, he can’t help himself.

Dipping his head, his hand moves just enough to give ground to his mouth as he takes her abused nipple between his lips. Hot and starving, his tongue laves over it like the feral animal he is, sucking the tight little bud into his mouth with an undisguised moan. Around her leg, his grip tightens reflexively. Against her cunt, his hips stutter, driven by that instinct, his thrusts shallow and frantic for all the way he’s already buried deep inside of her.

Because at the base of his cock, there it is: his knot, grown heavy, thick and engorged and every bit as demanding as he is.

It’s always like this. Always. He cannot resist her tits. The way they feel in his hands, and in his mouth – the way she whimpers when he works his teeth and tongue over her nipples, so sensitive, so tender – the way she cries when his hot breath ghosts over her savaged flesh, made wet with his saliva, wet with her blood.

“Always so sensitive, Rina,” he coos, saccharine and slick as too-sweet syrup, his mouth moving against the flesh of her breast. At the shudder that takes her, Fox laughs, grinding his hips forward, always forward. “You’re like a fucking perma-virgin, every time. Little virgin slut. Pretty little onahole.”

And god, she is like a perma-virgin. Even with her cunt as wet and needy as it is – even as her own arousal coats her thighs and his invading cock both – it takes no small amount of effort to work that thick knot into her. With every new centimeter he manages to claim, she’s thrashing under him, burying her whimpered cries behind the knuckles of her hand, her fingers a convulsive tangle in the sheets of the now very unmade bed. “Take it,” he says, low and raspy, cruel with his own vicious need. His teeth latch onto her nipple, and he bites down, earning another beautiful cry. “Take it, take it,” and now it’s a hiss in his blood-filled mouth.

And there: finally. Not a second too soon, his knot is inside of her. Fox shudders above her, sucking in air through his red-wet teeth at that delicious, wonderful tightness. Beneath him, Marina trembles through her own shudder, petal-pink lips parted around a panting gasp. His knot isn’t done, they both know that. Any later and he wouldn’t have been able to fit it inside of her. Any later, and it would have been too big to manage.

Now it’s still too big, but inside of her. Now it’s too big, and there’s no getting free until he’s done.

With his hand pushed up and under her knee to give himself more room, leans over her, sinking as much as he can into her. There’s no pulling out, not even if he wanted to. Held fast inside of her by his still swelling knot, there’s no real space for leverage, and so he can only thrust forward. Quick. Needy.

Desperate.

It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t have to do much. He’s already so close.

Still, he takes her nipple into his mouth again, coaxing it up between his lips with his hot, wet tongue. And with his face buried in her soft tit, growling against her, suckling, teasing at it with his teeth, he feels that incessant and demanding pressure that never leaves him when he’s with her finally, finally give.

And god, it pours out of him. He feels it, every twitch, every throb, every convulsive pulse of his cock as it empties out all of his lust and his need for her. It fills her like his cock does, like his knot does, hot and potent, backed up and trapped there behind the too-big seal of his knot. His hips jerk and stutter like he’s a nineteen year old boy and not a forty-seven year old man – like she’s his first ever girlfriend, like she’s the first girl he’s ever touched, ever lusted over, too pretty and too perfect for him to have ever hoped to score on his own. He moans around the flesh of her tit, drool coating her skin until it’s slick like her face is with tears, like her thighs are with pre-cum and her own arousal. He moans against her, and he humps into her, all instinct again, the way his hips move – trying so hard to drive his cock deeper into her despite him already being as deep as he could ever really hope to be already.

There’s no real thoughts anymore. Nothing coherent. That’s instinct, too. Breed her. Fill her. Fuck his cum into her. The way she cries and the noises she’s making, it’s a siren song in ears. Even if she were telling him no – which she doesn’t, not anymore, not since he’d made her his good little pet – he’d know by the noises she’s making that what he’s doing is right. That what he’s doing is meant to be. That she is made for this, made for his cock, made to be fucked, again, again, again.

“Rina, Rina, little fuckdoll, little onahole.” The words are slurring, now. His tongue feels thick in his mouth like his cock feels thick between her legs, filling up her puffy, over-stretched cunt, that tight, perma-virgin cunt he can’t ever get enough of. “Rina, Rina.” Crooning her name, his hips push and push, trying to fuck his cum into her, deeper, deeper. “You deserve it. You ask for it, looking like you do. You were made for it. God – Rina. Rina.”

Half-lidded and heavy, he lifts his gaze and then his head, staring down at her through red and silver lashes. His hand slides up her thigh, up, up, trailing over the soft curve of her stomach. As if he might be able to feel the hot cum he’s pumping into her beneath it, he lays his palm there with all the reverence of someone touching something holy – – 

Of some unrepentant sinner savoring the prize he has stolen out from heaven itself.

“Mine,” he says. He says it lazy, almost, lazy and tired and drunk, but no less menacing for it. There is blood on his teeth, after all.

“All mine.”

[hp-abandonshipfest]

Abandon Ship Fest Masterlist

Ahoy there! Our voyage is now at an end, and we, the mods, are delighted to announce that we have 23 spectacular gen works for your perusal! Thank you to everyone who engaged, commented, reblogged, and followed along. Your support means so much and we are so grateful! Without further ado, here are our entries ⚓

Fine Print by nocturn Marietta's maxims for a life well-learned and well-lived.

Where the Heart is by silver_fish - a Podfic by @cailynwrites After the events at the Department of Mysteries in June—and all that came after—Harry finds himself once again stranded at Number Four Privet Drive. With only his own thoughts to keep him company, he takes to writing letters to the only person he thinks can help, if only he were still alive to do so.

Collected Correspondence by Artemisaki, jtimu Correspondence between Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy regarding publication of novel findings in magizoology and wizarding space. 

Maybe this is enough by Patriceavril Scattered moments throughout a doomed friendship.

All The Whys To Map The Stars by @nogenrealldrama  Sometimes Astronomy feels like the least magical subject at Hogwarts. But while the influence of the planets can seem subtle, it’s also ever-present. This fic is a short narrative exploration of how Astronomy might affect magic in the Wizarding world.

Eat Your Death, Draco by @sillywives Draco's first dinner with the Death Eaters isn't what he expected.

The Ostentation by @lumosatnight, @nanneramma Lucius Malfoy: the boy, the man, the bird.

[ART] Never Been in Love by @okeydokeylackey Little piece of art/gif of Voldemort with an aro/ace flag 🧡💛🤍💙🖤

The Winds Forbid by @dodgerkedavra The third letter Petunia receives from Albus Dumbledore simply can’t be right.

The Sacred Blood We Spilled by @bunnieblair Her sisters were her ever-present companions in life. Their presence at her side firm and unyielding. Years of treasured girlhood, of never being alone. A lifetime spent fighting, learning and growing together.

Between Truth & Repose by @caitriona-3 Lily figures the assignment is as good a chance as any to ask her question - why are the three curses unforgivable?

Aniseed by @poljupci The Art of Identifying the Things which No Longer Serve You

These Dreams That Deepen Our Desires by Clueless Anxious Ghost of Hayhay (ShadowfoxFreyja) Narcissa finds herself in Azkaban, unwillingly dwelling on her past experiences.

The Diary of T.M. Riddle by @midnightstargazer On a visit to the Malfoys, fourteen-year-old Sirius insists on sneaking off to explore. What happens when he and Regulus find a blank diary hidden deep within the Malfoys’ library?

Ollivanders and Potter: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. by That_Dark_Forest_Witch The wand may be the one to do all the choosing, but wandmakers are needed to help the pairs find each other. The getting-ready-for-school rush in Diagon Ally is one of Harry's favourites now that the shop is his.

A Good Place (Believe Me) by SquibNation10 Five-year-old Harry's idyllic summer in Godric's Hollow takes a dramatic turn when he meets Tom, a troubled boy. Tragedy strikes: Harry's sister, Luna, is missing. Can Tom and Harry solve the mystery together?

The boy and the dogfather by HadrianPeverellBlack Trouble is very protective of the young boy.

The Secrets We Keep by sky_watcher_rose Minerva knows who the black cat with the brown eyes is, but she never says anything. After all, as she keeps telling herself, she has no proof.

Learning to Unlearn by @offthemap A Pansy Parkinson character study. Over the course of a year and a half, Pansy starts to become more open-minded about the world she lives in... though at first not on purpose. A series of vignettes.

My brothers, my boys, my twins by @lucigoo Percy was unintentionally parentified at a young age. Now, on his first birthday without Fred, he finds himself with George and Harry. Reminiscing about the boys he all but helped raised.

Missing Pages by @nightfalltwen Something isn't right with Monica Wilkins' life. It's like reading a book with the pages torn out and she doesn't know.

Unbreakable bonds by x_manga_Bleach_x Bill was Ginny's favourite brother. She'd never tell Ron though. He'd pout and sulk for days.

our house in the middle of our street by daniko A neglected orphan, a former and future spy, and a convicted felon take up residence in a grim old place.

[confusedgoldenflower]

[Text] Ace Visibility Week 2024 event, coming October 20-26!

[Text] Ace Visibility Week 2024 AO3 collection.

Prompts:

Tattoos

Picnic

Night out

A break

It seems so long ago...

What have we done?

On that day-

Feels so good when you hold me

Buggaboo

A favor

Secret

Gardens

Sickness

Monsters in the dark

Gift of heart

Clash

Ears

Unnatural limbs

Link to the collection (with a FAQ): https://archiveofourown.org/collections/AceVisibilityWeek2024. Crashcourse FAQ: indeed includes aro stuff; can include sex as long as a-spec is respected; NO pwp/smut for the sake of it; and consent is a MUST.

My first event, I hope y’all will join in the a-spec loving! 🖤🤍💜 🖤🤍💚

Please use tags #acevisibilityweek2024, #aceweek2024 and #aceweekao3. Feeling a bit spicy, use #teachthealloshowtoact.

It’ll be easiest—I think—to keep track on AO3 because of the way it’s set-up, but I will definitely be trolling Tumblr as well (I don’t have Twitter, it scares me). Of course, art and pod fics, etc are welcome.

I know I don’t have a following or a Twitter, but regardless, I hope other aces and allies will join me in this, and we can have it as an annual event sorta like MerMay and AUgust!