#fuck it we ball!!!!! (new wip)

[oscarpiastriwdc]

is that a model penal code in your pocket?

oscar piastri/carlos sainz jr | e | wip | ch 1/?

“You are always arguing with me about everything, needing to have the last word. You probably did this on purpose,” Carlos yells.

“On purpose?" Oscar throws his hands up. "Are you insane? It was an accident!”

Carlos’s glare narrows. “I do not believe you.”

carcar law school au

[gvardi-l]

bladie being a nice quiet boy 👍️

[kelpiemomma]

It was a knock at the door that pulled Ingo out of a deep slumber.

It was not frantic, not a sound that had him leaping out of his bed in a panic, but it was firm. Insistent. It compelled him to emerge from the warm comfort of his blankets, piled and wrapped atop of a straw bed to block the chill of the night, and to the thin wooden door blocking the chill and snow. He stumbled in the dark, tripping over smoothed wood and catching himself on the wall of the hut. His hand grasped the coat he’d hung up before crawling into bed and he pulled it down, wrapping it around himself like a protective cloak. Still with no light, and no real thought process beyond answer the door, Ingo pulled it open.

“How may I-” he began the sentence through a yawn, cut off midway by the sight before him.

The ground was lit by the moon in the sky, bright enough that Ingo could clearly see the person who had woken him up. It was impossible to determine an immediate gender so Ingo didn’t even bother to try. Whoever they were had long hair, a light gold that nearly appeared white in the moonlight. They had a long, stern nose with a flat bridge. Their gaze was flat and serious, lips thin as they stared down - very, very far down - at Ingo. At full height Ingo was a few inches taller than those around him within the village, but this person made him feel like a child. If his head came up to their chest he would be surprised. They were dressed in what appeared to be an old-fashioned white robe, the wind carrying across the valley lifting it gently before placing it back down as though it was the most delicate fabric. Intricate golden details laced the trim. Perhaps it was the sleep but it seemed to Ingo’s mind that the trim was… moving. One moment he thought there was a sun rising over a valley, and in the next it seemed to be some sort of battle between two pokemon. Hands appeared and disappeared, a wave of appraisal and worship before sinking down into a wave.

Rubbing his eyes to clear the odd sight - and upon second glance, the delicate lace no longer slipped through design - Ingo took a second look. Their height had not decreased at all but he was able to notice something new. Something that, somehow, he had missed in his awed staring. The person’s arms were wrapped around their chest in a cradling position. A blanket, the color of which he’d never seen before, was swaddled tightly. Though the hold was confident there was also a looseness to it that sent alarm bells ringing through Ingo’s mind, waking him up further. As he opened his mouth to speak the bundle moved, a tiny fist raising itself from the blanket and pounding on the person’s chest. Barely a moment later, a piercing cry erupted from the blanket as well. The stranger did not blink. They barely seemed to notice the noise at all. Their hooded green gaze had not left Ingo’s face.

“Is that- are you carrying a child? Are you hurt? Are they hurt? Here, please- come inside, I’ll get a fire started! It’s awfully cold tonight; a baby shouldn’t be out in this weather.” Ingo reached out impulsively, grasping for a sleeve and ending up with an arm ful of wailing baby. He pulled the child close to his chest in surprise, looking down into light eyes full of tears. The infant hiccuped through their tears, arm waving furiously. He grasped the limb gently to protect his own face only for his hand to be pulled down towards the babe’s face. They immediately began gnawing on his fingers, the wail dying gradually as they found something to occupy themself. The cold was forgotten.

Something clicked into place.

“Warden Ingo,” the person before him finally spoke, pulling Ingo’s gaze reluctantly away from the baby, “I leave her to you.”

“I’m sorry? I’m- I’m not a Warden? I'm just- a guest. Why are you- are you leaving? Are you leaving your child behind?” Anger rose in his chest. Was this infant being abandoned? Directly into his arms?!

“She was never meant to join this world. She was not part of my plan. I heard the world cry and there she was.”

“Do you need help? If you can’t raise her on your own you may join the village, I’m sure. They would be willing to take in a parent in need!”

“I am not her parent. I brought her into existence but she is not mine. She never has been and never will be.” There was a darkness in the person’s eyes, a bitter sort of anger laying under those words. They were sharp, pointed enough that the baby wiggled in Ingo’s arms and let out a high-pitched whine. Immediately he rubbed their - her? - cheek, the whine slipping into a gurgle. His fingers were pulled and tugged on until the baby managed to slip a fingertip into their mouth, chewing on his limb. Ingo’s gaze never left the person’s before him, though they finally dared to look away from him. Their flat expression became something like a sneer as they looked down before it was schooled into disinterest once again.

“As you were never meant to be here either, I leave her to you. I would bid that you take care not to lose her and do not tell others where she came from.” The person slid their hands into their sleeves, the gold filigree flashing blindingly bright as the sleeves made contact. Ingo turned away to block his and the child’s eyes. “Not even I know where she may end up next time.”

When the light faded and Ingo could look again the person was gone. He took several steps forward, looking around to try and see where they had vanished to, but not even the snow gave a hint at what direction the person had gone in. Only the moon looked down at Ingo, the light solemn and soft. He turned his gaze to the infant in his arms; cheeks were being carelessly bitten by the wind and turning red, eyes wrinkled up in discomfort and watery, but his finger remained chewed on. Despite the infant’s abandonment, they didn’t appear disturbed. In fact they appeared… content. As the chill nipped insistently at Ingo’s bare feet, driving him back into his hut to pull the door shut, so did the baby’s eyes. They let out a gurgling noise, grip tightening on Ingo’s fingers, and then they began to snore.

Ingo rubbed his face, trudging back towards his bed. There were things he needed to do and yet- something pushed him towards the blankets. He pushed them to the side, keeping the infant in one hand while removing his long coat. Using it and a blanket he created a nest to cradle the little one in. As he set the child inside, covering them with one of his sleeves, they sighed in what he could have mistaken for content. One chubby fist grabbed the wristband of his coat while the other migrated to the infant’s mouth, thumb settling into place as though it belonged there. Half awake and half aware, Ingo prepared his own blankets upon his straw bed. He put the infant between himself and the wall, and then hesitated before moving them between himself and the opening of the room. Then he hesitated again- the wall would be colder, but perhaps safer, right? If the baby was facing the room it might roll out of the blankets and fall off the bed. It wasn’t a long drop by any means, but still! He swapped the child to the other side once again, wrapping another blanket around and over the nest, and then laid there.

What had just happened? Where had the baby’s parent gone? They had said they weren’t, but where else could it have come from? Had it been stolen?

Despite his concern that these thoughts would keep him awake, another force pulled Ingo’s eyelids down and he drifted off to sleep.

It was a knock at the door that pulled Ingo out of slumber.

The sound was quick and heavy, quickly joined by a voice.

“Mr Ingo! Are you awake?”

It was not so much a genuine question as much as it was a wakeup call. One that he was used to at this point. Several months among the Pearl Clan had helped him come to understand not only their language but their habits- he was needed, and so they were waking him.

Sunlight warmed the wooden floor as Ingo slipped out from under his blankets and padded across the floor. His head felt fuzzy and he felt a little confused; his jacket was not hanging up where he had put it the night before and there was a small snowdrift on one side of the door. He looked at it curiously, trying to figure out where it had come from, as he opened the door.

Irida stood before him, her gaze slightly narrowed and her brows drawn tight. Rather than angry he could see the stress in her expression, the way she held herself. He wondered what had happened.

“Good morning, Miss Irida.” ingo said. “How may I be of help?”

“Mr Ingo, it’s almost afternoon. We had a large amount of snowfall last night and need your help. Since you’re an early riser we thought you had already gone out- are you ill to have slept so long?” She asked. “We can’t have anyone else getting sick not so soon after the last wave!”

Ingo blinked, shaking his head and raising a hand. He had arrived, lost and freezing, to the Pearl Clan at the tail end of a lingering sickness. Though he had been cold he had also been healthy and immediately stepped in to help the recovering clan; distrustful members had warily guided the confused man around the territory to gather berries and check game. They doubted his memory loss but couldn’t afford to deny his aid. To many he had been a necessary evil. To some, he still was. To Irida, who was still young but in the running to lead the clan, he was a goal.

“I apologize, Miss Irida. I woke up last night after having a very strange dream. It must have taken me a while to fall asleep, if I indeed slept until noon. I will get ready to help.”

He went to close the door so he could dress, sighing out, “the moon was so bright it seemed to be daylight.”

Irida shot him a look.

“Mr Ingo, there was no moon at all last night.” She stated. “It’s why we didn’t see the amount of snow until this morning, despite the watch.”

Ingo froze.

“No,” he said slowly, “no, there very much was a moon. In fact, there was a person as well. They-”

From his bed came a piercing wail. Ingo froze and Irida jumped.

“Mr Ingo,” she said after a moment of listening to the crying child, “is that a baby?”

Pulled out of his panic by her words Ingo rushed to pick the child up. A terrible smell greeted his nose as he removed the baby from the nest of blankets and coat.

“There was a moon,” he said as he stared at the crying child, “it was full and bright, and-”

“Moon later, baby now.” Irida said, taking the infant from his hands. She paused, and then glared at him. “Baby explanation later, baby cleanup now. Where do you keep your changing supplies?”

“She was a… a gift,” Ingo replied dumbly; somehow it felt like the right description, “I have nothing.”

Irida stared at him in complete confusion and irritation before she sighed.

“Baby explanation later, finding the baby new nappies and…. ergh, new clothes now.” She exited his hut with the wailing child. As if pulled by a string Ingo followed, barely slipping his shoes on before stumbling into the soft snow that had yet to be cleared from in front of his home. He ignored the stares as Irida marched - baby held in front of her like a shield - to the home of Calaba. The old Warden was opening the door before they were within ten feet of the house, watching them approach with barely concealed displeasure. She allowed them in with pursed lips and the shake of her head.

Ingo dreaded to know what she was thinking.

As he watched Irida strip the infant to clean her, all the while narrating what she was doing as if Ingo was paying that much attention, one set of words caught his ear.

“I’m sorry, Miss Irida, I am- I am a little… a little off course. Could you please repeat yourself?”

She shot him an irritated glare over her shoulder. This one was truly angry with him; he would be sure to get an earful later. Though she was mostly fair she was also a hot-headed young woman determined to become the next lead of the clan. It was possible this had just hurt her chances.

“I said, Mr Ingo, what’s her name?”

“Her name?” He repeated, “I- I don’t know. They… she didn’t come with a name.”

“They normally don’t,” Calaba snapped from behind him, “which is why their parents give them one. She may be a little young for a name yet- she doesn’t look that old. You moved awfully quick Mr Ingo.” Her tone left no room for doubt- she believed that he had impregnated someone and left them, only for them to return the favor and deposit the baby on his doorstep.

“Warden Calaba, she’s not mine. Someone- someone stopped by last night, in the full moon, and gave her to me. Surely one of the watch noticed them!” He turned to her in an attempt to defend himself. Calaba snorted and crossed her arms.

“It was a new moon, Mr Ingo. There was no light at all. Perhaps you made your own light- did you track someone down and take their child?”

“I would never! That is- that is a horrible thing to insinuate, Warden Calaba, regardless of your affection or lack thereof for me! There were no footprints outside my door, were there? I couldn’t have gone anywhere!” He spun to face Irida. She was tying a new diaper onto the baby, ignoring the wails in her ears.

“With the amount of snowfall last night, footsteps would’ve disappeared quickly Mr Ingo.” She answered sorrowfully. She was loathe to agree with Warden Calaba and her harsh tongue.

“Do you believe I stole this child?” Ingo demanded of her.

Irida finished wrapping the infant, handing her back to Ingo. Only once she was in his arms, face buried in his chest as she gripped his tunic tightly with chubby fists, did she quiet. WIth her wails ceased the silence prevailed in the room as Ingo stared at Irida, who looked between himself and Calaba. If the warden didn’t like her, her chances of achieving leadership would drop even further.

“No,” Irida finally said, “in all the time you’ve been here, you haven’t come off as that sort of person, regardless of how others have seen you. But the baby-”

“I don’t know where she came from. I awoke to a knock at my door last night and someone gave her to me. They did not introduce themselves, only told me not to lose her, and then they left. I thought it was a dream until she began to cry after soiling herself.” Ingo said firmly. He turned to look at Calaba as he spoke, meeting her impassive gaze firmly. There was a tense moment until she grunted and looked away.

“So a mystery person dropped a baby onto a stranger’s lap.” She muttered.

“I’ll organize a search party,” Irida said, “a couple. If they were around last night then they must be nearby- the snow was falling much too heavy and quickly for them to have gotten far.”

Ingo understood the insinuation- they were, most likely, looking for a corpse.

“Until then… we should find her a home with a wetnurse, and-” Irida went to take the child from Ingo despite having just deposited her back into his arms. He tightened his grip just as Irida’s hands clasped onto her sides. Feeling the other touch the baby began to scream. Irida immediately stepped back, covering her ears, while Ingo turned away and rocked from side to side. She quieted after a few moments, gurgling quietly against his chest once more. Ingo and Irida looked at each other. She reached out to take the baby again. Ingo didn’t tighten his grasp this time, slightly holding her away from him, but as soon as Irida touched her she opened her mouth to scream once more.

Irida stepped back, expression turning to confusion. “She won’t let me take her.” She said.

Calaba scoffed.

“She’s an infant. Give her here, she’ll quiet down if you just hold her a moment.” She demanded.

Ingo reluctantly handed the baby over. Just like with Irida, as soon as Calaba had a hold of her she began to shriek her displeasure. Calaba pulled her close and began to rock her as Ingo had, but as the minutes passed on the shrieking turned to sobs. Like the night before the baby raised her fists, pounding on Calaba’s chest to express her displeasure. One of them must have nailed the older woman well because she let out a surprised breath, her arms’ hold weakening momentarily. Ingo was there in a heartbeat, reaching out to take hold of the girl.

Once she was back in his arms she began to grow quiet, wrapping a hand in his tunic as her sobs turned to crying, turning to whines that quieted into hiccuping breaths as he rocked her. Her teary eyes met his gaze with an unexpected intensity. She held onto his tunic in a way that, were she an adult, Ingo would believe to be some desperation. Don’t let me go, she seemed to be begging, don’t let them take me away!

I won’t, Ingo thought back, I won’t let them take you. I promise.

“Well,” Irida said after a moment, “I believe that she wishes to stay with Ingo.”

“Hmph. She’ll still need a wetnurse unless he’s hiding milk behind that tunic.” Calaba said the words dismissively. “He’ll also need to learn how to change her, and get her clothes, and-”

“Akari.” Ingo said, breaking the sentence.

“Who? We don’t have an Akari in the village. Is that her mother?” Irida asked, approaching. She kept a distance from the baby, preparing to step back in case the screaming started once more. Wrapped in Ingo’s arms the baby met her gaze placidly.

“No. It’s… her. Her name.” Ingo trailed a finger from the girl’s forehead, where small wisps of dark hair were already threatening to fall in her face, down over her nose. She smiled and giggled, wrapping a hand around Ingo’s finger and shaking it. Ingo couldn’t help but think she must feel excited.

“Her name is Akari.”

[saph-writes]

may or may not have finished a chapter of a fic for the first time in over half a year 👀

[buckyalpine]

You know who'd talk you through it? Bucky. Bucky would talk you through it. I'm feral therefore this is feral. I always say I'm sorry after writing shit like this but this time I'm genuinely sorry, lost sight of the plot.

18+ af, minors dni

I'm gonna finish a wip, I swear, but just imagine for a moment, Bucky being intimate with the most soft shy little bunny ever and learning what she likes based on all the pretty moans and squeals he can pull out of her. He gauges what she's into based on how fucking soaked his balls get from the way she drips on him. Her pussy gets so tight around his dick and he knows whatever he's doing is working because she

She was too scared to tell him anything about what she liked so there was a lot of experimenting in the start. He took it soft and slow at first, basking in how warm her body felt against his, relishing in those quiet sighs she makes when he rolls his hips. For a while he thinks that's as vocal as she gets until a slightly harder thrust of his cock makes her squeak, her cunt clenching around him. His eyes widen at this new found discovery, thrusting harder and harder each time, that squeak turning into a slutty moan.

So she can get louder...

It's become a game for him, talking you through every single orgasm he pulls from you, growing more and more feral over how vocal you are when he does something new.

"Mmph, fuck yeah, that's it baby, moan f'me" He coos as he fucks his fingers in you faster while kneeling in front of you, his own knees keeping yours apart. He's truly playing with your body to his own delight having you naked, legs spread far apart with your pussy on display for him. He loves fingering you because he gets to look at your entire body whither beneath him. Little does he know how crazy it makes you because while he towers over you, eyes raking over your pleasure consumed form, you're admiring him right back. His thick pink cock is so full and hard standing achingly tall. His balls look deliciously heavy and you love the way he uses his knees to keep you spread because he ends up showing off even more of his sac and you are rightfully obsessed.

Your clit makes him drool. It's so perfectly sensitive and he's perfected licking, rubbing and sucking it till your gushing on his face and pulling his hair.

"Y'like that huh baby" He whispers to himself when he rubs faster and you start to claw at his arms, your back arching off the bed, moans growing louder. He watches your reaction like a predator watching it's prey waiting for the perfect moment to let you fall.

"Y-ess" You manage to cry out but Bucky thinks you can do better.

"Y'know what m'gonna do now bunny?" He knows you can't answer but based on the way your clit is throbbing against his fingers your attention is 100% on him. You loved his dirty talking and he's going to keep going until the sheets need to be changed. "M'gonna lick and suck on that pretty little clit of yours, you like that, don't you?"

You frantically nod and he lets out a breathy chuckle, his own cock getting wet at the thought of tasting you.

"Lookit what you do to me" He pulls his hand away making you look down so you can see him squeeze his cockhead, smearing his arousal onto your swollen bud, tears falling from your cheeks from how erotic and dirty he was. He rubs his tip all over not bothering to muffle his own whines and whimpers, "M'so fuckin' sensitive here baby" He'd never miss a chance to edge you both, your most sensitive parts rubbing against each other until he's done teasing. "See how wet you make me bunny? You're not the only one who gets soaked baby, shit you make me so wet"

You can see clear sticky webs clinging from his cockhead to your clit as he continues to tap and rut himself against you, "Don't worry baby, I'll clean up the mess I make"

He goes down between your legs, starting off with tentative licks like a kitten. That's before he lets those pouty lips of his seal around you, suckling with needy gurgles as if he were drinking milk. He groans at the taste of his own precum he marked you with, your taste combined with his makes him nearly cum.

"O-OOH-" The squirm of your legs are held still by his arms. He doesn't know how anyone other than you can look so adorably sweet and slutty at the same time with your eyes rolling back, jaw slack, sinful sounds filling the room, your white cream making a mess on the sheets. His dick is dripping and while he'd love for you to finish on his face, he knows that's not your favourite way to cum.

No.

Your loudest moans are when your filled with his cock while he plays with your clit with his lips by your ear.

Favourite position? You're not picky but he knows the ones you love the most. Your pussy gets so tight when he puts you in the sluttiest ones.

"Good girl, good fuckin' girl" He whispers tugging your earlobe between his teeth while maintaining a brutal pace, the sweat slicking his chest hot against your back. You're kneeling while he fucks you from behind, holding your body up, one hand wrapped around your throat while the other holds your hip. He wasn't sure how you'd feel about being choked until you squirted on him the first time he did it. "You love my fat cock don't you bunny, slut for big dick-" He brings his hand down to slap your clit making you sob, your wetness squirting onto the sheets, body limp in his hold, "Baby, you're soaking my balls, should make you suck them clean"

You moan louder.

Bucky smirks.

He's going to keep going.

"You like that don't you, you wanna lick my balls clean angel? Empty them first and then get down and suck 'em. Suck my cock, drink up all the cum that's still dripping after I cum in you"

That's all it takes. You're cumming without warning but Bucky's gonna make your orgasm last minutes if possible, his dirty talking getting filthier with each clench of your pussy.

"M'gonna be all sensitive for you angel, y' know how hard m'gonna cum for you? Gonna keep on cumming until I'm all empty"

"You're such a slut huh, you'd suck my cock even if it was soft-oh shhit baby-you like that too? You like me turning soft for you? You want daddy to get subby for you baby, hm?"

"I-I-Oh god James!!!" You whine and desperately try to fuck yourself back on him to prolong how good he's making you feel, all these feral thoughts too much-He reaches to pinch your clit, now rolling it between his fingers and you nearly pass out-

At this point anything he says doesn't matter. Maybe it happens. Maybe it doesn't. He just says anything and everything that clouds both your fantasies that make you sob and sob from overstimulation.

"I can be subby for you bunny, y'know that. Tell daddy what you want, you can have anything y'want"

"Love when you lick my balls, clean my cock. Shit, y'know I'd let you touch me anywhere baby"

The very thought of what that entails sends you into a second orgasm.

"s'that it? You wanna taste daddy, bunny? Touch me where no one else has? Hm? Just my bunny putting her cute little tongue on my-

"FUUCCCKKKKKKK" You fall forward and love being smothered by him, lying flat on your tummy while he mounts you from behind letting his full body collapse on you.

"So little under me, no where to run, you make me wanna breed you when you're like this baby, wanna give you all of my cum.

"Bucky-Buckyy!" Your muffled screams and taut body have him pounding you harder, your orgasm squeezing cum out of his body even though he want's to hold it. You make it impossible He's still gonna talk you through it all while falling himself.

"I know, I know baby, feels good-s'good-oh God you're milking my cock bunny-fuckk" His hips stutter to a grind, "Shit I can't st-top, God y/n please-want it-need you" He's babbling at this point, the both of you utterly gone, floating in bliss. He's going to clean and take good good care of you, making a mental note of what he did to get you scream this time. He smirks to himself with his new information, next time he'd be more than happy to see you lose yourself while you play with and lick his-

Alright, that's enough.

[doll-for-you-11]

Fantasy I can't stop thinking about:

I slip on a short skirt and crop top. I just got rejected and need to get some validation of men stating at my ass. I walk around and take a few different trains in random directions.

Almost every guy ive passed has either blatantly stared, or catcalled and Im feeling better about myself. Ready to go home, I realize I don't know what train Im on, and Ive never been to the station we're approaching.

The train is basically empty. Theres one guy accross from me, but he's ignored me most of the time so I feel fine. I stand to wait at the doors for when we stop. Feeling him stand and get very close. I try to step forward but theres no space. "Theres no running bitch". I freeze unable to get away. I feel his hand on my hip, rising to my chest, groping me as he grinds against me, pressing me to the door.

As we stop I see other people on the platform and sigh hoping he'll stop when the doors open and I can run. As the doors open I try to take a step but am stopped by a hand grabbing my ponytail. Getting dragged off the subway by my hair. My clothes ripped off as Im being degraded and abused. The man that grabbed me loudly saying disgusting, humiliating things as he drags me along like a ragdoll.

By the time he gets me to the middle of the platform, Im naked and sobbing. A crowd gathering around, all the men who have been "working late" and the creeps stalking the subway for new prey.

He throws me to the ground, laughing as I try to crawl away. Wrenching me back again by my hair, as I scream out in pain. Looking around hoping someone will help, but all I see are buldges and hungry eyes.

He wips me around, slapping me, threatening my life if he feels any teeth as he pulls his cock out, shoving it all the way down my throat as I violently gag around him. "Fucking good little whore, take it".

You moan as you wrap your hand in my hair and begin to face fuck me so harshly my lips and throat are bruised before I even run out of breath. Drool and precum pour down my chin, dripping onto my tits turning them into a shiny, sticky mess. You fuck my throat like you're trying to destroy any brain cells I might have left. I feel your hot cum spew down my throat. You hold your cock balls deep telling me to swallow, but I gag, dripping some onto my already dripping tits. You rip your cock out and slap me accross the face, throwing me to the edge of the crowd.

I look up at the man in front of me and he just laughs, kicking me back towards you and following, pulling his belt off as he goes. I feel your hand come from behind me, gripping my throat and pulling me to my knees as the other man binds my wrists with his belt. My mind is still reeling from your raping of my throat, I dont even fight back and you remove your own belt, pushing my face down into the other mans still clothed crotch.

He humps my face, humiliating me as the crowd laughs. He holds my head down as you begin whipping my ass with your belt. Im trying to get away as I scream in pain, but he's too strong. You ask the crowd for a number, someone yells 50 and you tell me to count. It hurts so bad I lose track and you restart again and again and again until my ass is black and blue and my eyes have clouded over from the pain, my tears soaking the mans pants.

He flips me over onto my back, pulling out his hard cock and straddling my head. He slaps me with his cock, his pre cum joining the streaks of mascara on my cheeks before forcing himself down my throat and pushing down with his full weight sitting on my face, grinding his hips as his cock fills my windpipe.

Struggling to breathe I dont notice your belt trailing up my legs until you whip my cunt with it. I jump, forcing his cock impossibly deeper as I choke and panic. You altrinate between my pussy and tits, whipping harder and harder as I writhe, my hands pinned and bound under me, the other man on my face.

He pinches my nose and laughs as I begin to lose consciousness. Just as I'm about to black out he pulls me upright and savagely fucks my throat, pulling out to coat my face in his hot sticky cum. I cough and sputter but before I'm able to catch my breath you're pushing my face into the ground and ramming balls deep into my cunt. Using my hair as a handle you pull me to my knees.

The other man sucking and biting my nipples. Groping my bruised tits hard enough you can see his finger prints. "Look at you, you disgusting cum dump. Your cunt is dripping, theres a fucking puddle under you and you want to act like you didn't want this? That cunt is an open invitation when it drips like that." He slaps me, rubs my clit, slaps me with his cock and fucks my tits all while youre animalistically fucking my dripping pussy.

You join in growling in my ear. "Little bitch thinks it can get on the fucking train wearing a skirt that barely covers its ass and not get used? You that stupid you little whore? Or did you want this? Huh? Was this what you wanted? Get raped and ruined in front of a crowd ? Put on a little show? Yeah?" You fuck me harder and faster, my eyes rolling back as I cum around you harder than I ever have before.

"Did you just fucking cum?" The man abusing my tits asks. "Did you just cum from getting raped? Are you that much of a dirty rape whore?" You pull out throwing me to the ground as the other man pulls me on top of him pushing me down on his cock and thrusting up using my tits as handles to slam me up and down painfully.

You get behind me pulling my hair and whisper in my ear "we're gonna see just how disgusting of a cunt you really are". You ram your cock into my virgin asshole with no preparation besides the slick from my cunt already on your cock, matching the other man in speed as you thrust in and out, your cocks stretching me out like a used fleshlight.

The pain shocks me enough that my jaw drops in a silent scream, my eyes rolling back as my body goes limp. My mind shutting off as I become a living sex doll. You reach around harshly rubbing my clit. I scream as I arch against you cumming, but you keep rubbing my sore oversensitive clit. Making cum non stop over and over. My whole body shaking uncontrollably.

I hear laughter and see other people recording and jacking off. It feels like forever before you both cum and you stop rubbing my clit. Your seed flooding inside of me as you both groan in satisfaction. You pull out and I whine at the feeling before you pull me off of the other man and toss me to the ground.

I can barely open my eyes but I begin to feel something falling on me and look up to see the crowd gathering closer, coating me in cum and piss as I lay broken on the platform.

I feel disgusted with myself, how could I have cum from that? But I can't help but moan as I feel the cum dripping from both holes and the showers of it coating my body. Soon enough I feel more hands on me, I hear men saying what I know are disgusting perverted things but I can't make it out.

The sun is starting to come up by the time they all finish with me. Im too broken to move, but some part of me is okay with it. After all, If I stay here, they'll know where to find me when they want to use me again.

[writingmeraki]

here and now.

a kim mingyu drabble !

pairing : secret!agent!mingyu x secret!agent!reader, established relationship ( they are married )

genre : angsty with fluff :)

warnings : reader is pretty miserable, cussing, cheol is mean but annoying mean, petnames, kissing, unhealthy routines.

author's note : ohhh i can't let go of these two, i rlly jst like this au a lot lol, i wonder if you would want more set in this same au, lmk hehe :) hope you like this !! but also the fact that i have other wips but i can't get this specific couple out of my head ???? very self indulgent bcoz tell me why i want this mingyu with me rn. also third work this month...let's hope we keep balling like that!!!

set in the SAME universe as this !

word count : 1.6k

The world was miserable.

You wanted to curl up in a ball and just lay in your bed, sleeping until you could no longer differentiate between reality and dreamland.

But alas, you couldn’t. As an agent, sleep to you was like a reward. One would think a need should never be something you get once in a while but, your job was practically making all your essentials feel like rewards. 

Mayhaps not the healthiest, but you were already used to it and your body as well, so you were not truly affected when you couldn’t get any of your essentials. 

Though, you were sure the world felt more miserable because you hadn’t seen him in so long.

Kim Mingyu, the man you married. Your husband.Your other half, your other puzzle piece, your other- you get the point. Six months, twelve days, and ten hours since you last saw him. 

He was gone on a mission that was supposed to take no less than a month, but who were you kidding? Who was your boss kidding? Top priority missions always took up time. 

The thing that still pisses you off is why you weren’t allowed to go with him. 

Apparently, you were needed back in Seoul and not there was the bullshit reason. You spent enough time being annoyed and angry at that, now you just felt terribly upset. Upset without him in your life physically, sure virtually he was one message away, but being on the complete opposite side of the globe also meant time zones were a pain in the ass.

Sighing, you made your way into the tall building disguised as one of the offices but it was where your agency was. You held a cup of coffee, that was just as bitter as your mood, in fact you didn’t even like coffee, but today you felt no point in trying to uplift your mood because the only thing that would was a certain person who you were not even sure when you’d meet. 

It was not you who felt this way, in fact Mingyu was probably feeling worse. Having been someone whose love language was physical affection, it did not feel the same through a fucking screen. He was ready to quit actually, three months into it because he terribly wanted to see you, but you convinced him he’d be back sooner if he finished it. 

You knew you were lying to him and yourself, but you had no choice. This was your duty right? 

The boss’ office was still as peculiar as he was, never failing to amuse you whenever you’d enter and always finding new collections or items decorating it. Today, you saw an art piece that was of the sun and the moon. 

Everything reminded you of him. He was your sun, even your moon too. 

You frowned more at the thought, wondering how the heck were you not able to not think of him for a few minutes. Then again, perhaps being together for more than a decade would do the trick. You’re practically bound permanently by that point. 

Sitting down on the cushion chair in front of Seungcheol, you didn’t even bother greeting him, still in thoughts until you heard a chuckle from in front of you. 

“What’s funny?”

“You look extra miserable today.” 

You glared at the man, annoyance changing into anger with retorts about how he’d feel if he was kept away from his partner for this long, considering he was someone who was pretty boastful about his partner. 

“But- I did not call you for that. I have a special mission for you. And no, I don’t have any updates on Mingyu.”

You groaned at his words, considering what he said was just getting worse and worse as he spoke. 

“For this though, you’ll have someone with you. You’ll be needing another person to complete this task. They should be arriving in a few minutes.” 

“Please don’t be a rookie, I don’t have the patience to deal with one, not right now.” You figured you couldn’t not do it. It was your job after all. But perhaps he’d be a little considerate. 

“Oh don’t worry, I think they are pretty experienced, maybe even more than you.” He grinned but you couldn’t quite put a finger on what he meant. His eyes gleamed with something you couldn’t tell. 

“Just say you hate me, Cheol. It’s easier.” You bitterly spat out, taking a sip of the now cold coffee and frowning in distaste. It seemed it was up to par with your state. 

You leaned back, looking at the watch on your wrist, seeing it’s been a few minutes already and wondering just how long this person would take. 

You tried to pinpoint who it possibly was, but you were never good with names of people you might have seen in passing. That was more of Mingyu’s thing, he always remembered the forgettable things. 

The sound of the door opening was what made you perk up. You sat a little straighter, feeling like perhaps you shouldn’t make it outwardly obvious to the entire population how you were truly feeling. 

Seeing the chair pull, you didn’t bother looking besides you, feeling that seeing them from the corner of your eye was enough. They were a little further from you, but you could tell they were quite…large? They were wearing a cap and a mask, practically their entire body was covered with a black coat. It was suspicious and you just wondered if this was just an excuse for Seungcheol to have you murdered in a discreet way. 

Seokmin…? No, he's almost my height, probably Chan? 

You didn’t even realise the person had taken your coffee, pulled off their mask,took a sip of it and almost spat it out. 

“Baby this is actually so disgusting, since when did you drink this?” 

Wait.

You recognised that voice. 

He kept the cup back down on the table in front of you, wearing that very very familiar ring on his left ring finger. 

You think your brain short circuited at that very moment. 

Now you knew why Seungcheol had a sly grin. 

The fucker planned this. 

In all his glory, Kim Mingyu sat beside you, now seeing no point in wearing the cap, he tossed it off and threw it on the table. He shuffled his hair, which was now longer than you last saw it.

“Missed me?” He had the audacity to say that with his stupid canines peaking out, wearing that stupid grin that made you feel giddy all over and the stupid glint in his eyes that shone as he took you in.

Stupid, stupid, stupid Mingyu for making you feel like throwing up in all mixes of emotions. 

So in the mix of it, you just remained frozen. Eyes blank, nothing on your face physically to indicate any emotion. 

“I’ll leave you two…just don’t do…stuff.” Seungcheol retorted and your hands itched to strangle him. 

Before you could even comprehend you were now alone, you felt your chair being pulled to face him. Your mind still in disbelief and conflict.

“Hi.” He spoke gently, his hands now reaching towards yours and grasping them. It had been way too long since he smelt your signature perfume, held your hands in his with the same intensity, felt your touch. He thinks he might just die in peace now. 

“I’m just trying to figure out if I’m dreaming.” You murmured as you blinked slowly at him, still unmoving even though he now was bent down and closer to you.

The grin on his face widened as he leaned in, and next thing you know, you felt his lips on yours. 

Familiar…just like…home. 

He pulled back, still smiling as he softly laughed, “Real enough, darling?”

Mingyu wasn’t someone who was caught off-guard easily but he was the moment you launched forward and wrapped your arms around him. He yelped as he held you, surprisingly not toppling over.

You didn’t even grasp you were full on sobbing at that point, your entire body shaking and held you even more tightly. He stood up, one arm around your waist and the other gently rubbing your back. 

“I’m here now, I’m here.” He whispered softly as his hand caressed your hair, you moved your arms to wrap them over his shoulder as you placed your head in the crook of his neck. 

“i-i really-” missed you. I felt incomplete without you. I just…I really missed you. I really fucking love you.

You wanted to say as cheesy as it may have sounded, but cheesiness be darned you couldn’t hold back, not when the time apart made you realise that it didn’t matter if it was just another way of showing your love for him. You also realised Kim Mingyu deserved all possible ways of showing your love for him.

“I know, ‘s okay baby, I know.” You only sobbed harder as you pulled back, not caring how you looked, probably a whole mess with red eyes and tears all over, his arms were still around you as you held his face with both hands. 

He was there. You thought as you caressed his cheeks. He was there. You thought as he looked at you like he’d finally found his treasure,eyes twinkling, smiling at you.

And he was there, right there, with you as you tilted your head up, closing your eyes and placing your lips on his. 

Because no matter what or how long, Kim Mingyu would always find his way back to you, his other forever half. 

And oh, you’d make sure he was never apart from you from then on. Not even for a day. 

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

writingmeraki Ⓒ 2024

feedback is always appreciated 💌

links : main navi ! | svt masterlist !

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Same as it ever was 14

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: Happy Tuesday

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“Promise, Pete, I’ll get her back in one piece,” Hansen vows with a wink and a nudge. 

You sit helpless in his passenger seat. He has one hand on the open door as he faces your husband. Pete won’t look at you but you can barely do the same of him. Funny, how you’re so eager to be away from him that you’re not even that bothered at the prospect of spending the day with your boss. 

“You’re a life saver. Really. Never had a boss that cool,” Pete says. 

“Well, you know, I gotta admit. Your wife carries a big load at work. She’s saved my ass more than once and she kinda holds the whole place together. I’m sure you know exactly what that’s like, huh?” Hansen proclaims. 

“Uh, yeah I do,” Pete has the decency to sound ashamed. It’s too bad he couldn’t have seen that years ago. 

“Lucky man. We’re gonna figure it out. She’s strong, we both know you can’t keep her down,” he clicks his tongue.  

“Right, uh, well, I could take her if it’s easier.” 

“What? Pete? You were just telling me about that big meeting. Good luck!” He slaps Pete’s shoulder. “You’ll have to bring us some good news.” 

“Uh, right,” Pete grumbles, “um, honey, I... I love you. I hope the doctor can help.” 

“Thanks,” you say curtly. “Don’t wanna be late.” 

“Gotta listen to the wife, right? Always knows best,” Hansen chortles. “Watch out, sweetheart, don’t wanna catch you.” 

He closes the door as you keep your head straight. Their voices are muffled and you’re thankful for the mental break. The two of them don’t stop. You don’t know how you didn’t see the similarities before. 

You close your eyes and Lloyd drops into the driver’s side. You don’t flinch. He turns the engine and you stay just as you are. He pulls out and the motion sends a ripple through you. The painkiller might have something to do with that. 

“So, the old man and you are... icy,” he says. 

“That’s personal.” 

“Well, baby cakes, think we’re well past blurring lines,” he scoffs. 

“What do you care?” 

“Hey, I’m not entirely heartless. My balls just happen to be more sensitive,” he snickers. “Trust me, I’m not getting sentimental. I want you back to operational. That means whatever stick is lodged up your ass needs to come out so mine can get in.” 

“Disgusting,” you growl. 

“Mm, please, talk dirty to me, baby,” he purrs. 

You snap your mouth shut and grimace. You can’t help but think of the night before. Of Pete all over you. Just like the man beside you, he didn’t listen either. Your own husband... 

“Jesus, I know you’re high on percs but try to lighten up,” he intones. 

You rub your cheek and pry your eyes open, “are you really taking me to a doctor?” 

“As much as I’d rather be taking you to a penthouse and breaking your back more than it already is, yes, I’m taking you for real help. I got a magic mustache and even better tongue but I can’t fix whatever the fuck happened to you,” he shakes his head. “And judging by the way that creature had his tail tucked up where his dick should be, I think he had something to do with it.” 

He sniffs and squints at the road. He gives a thoughtful hum. 

“Petey doesn’t seem like the wife beater type, but I guess-” 

“The fuck? He didn’t-- Argh!” You grip your hip and spasm as you tense at the accusation. “He didn’t... mean to. I slipped.” 

“Huh, dropped you? Man can’t handle all of you, can he?” 

“Hansen,” you warn. 

“I could give him some lessons, if you want.” 

“Stop, please. I’m already going insane with you--” 

“Oh, I know, I got that something that makes the ladies go wacky,” he preens. 

“Urgh, for the love--” 

“Relax. Please. You really can’t help yourself. You’re making it worse. Legit. You’re getting actually butthurt because you can’t let up for one minute,” he reprimands. “I’m dying to get in there and loosen you up but you gotta meet me halfway. So chill.” 

You growl but try to take his advice. The tension is too much. If you keep going on like this, something’s going to give. With what the doctor said about your blood pressure, it could even be your heart. 

You watch the road. It’s nice to not be in control. To not be taxiing someone around; to not be the one worried about time or anything. Still, it’s that underlying reality that keeps you edgy. 

Lloyd pulls in at a clinic on the north end. It’s the kind you could never afford. You’re pretty sure you get a free Costco membership just for being a patient. 

As he parks, you sit up. He tuts, “now, you let good old Lloyd help you with your broken tush, babykins.” 

You send him a derisive look but don’t argue. The painkiller is kicking in and makes even him tolerable. He gets out and you watch him come around. 

He opens your door and with uncharacteristic caution, slides his arm behind you. You lean on him as you stand. He’s actually helping you. Your back buckles but he keeps you steady. He closes the door with his other arm and ushers you slowly across the lot. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You ask. 

“What?” He laughs. “I’m helping you, sweet cheeks.” 

“Exactly. You’re helping me. Why?” 

“I’ve been pretty honest how hungry I am for the peach,” he returns. 

“It can’t be just that.” you growl. “I’m not stupid.” 

“Oh, I know you aren’t. That’s half the fun. Easy enough to get a bimbo on my desk. Boring, now that I think of it--” 

You hiss and grab onto his forearm to keep from collapsing. You hate that you’re latching onto him for comfort. At that moment, you don’t have much else; in several ways. 

“Easy, alright,” he coaxes. “We’ll get you inside and sitting down. Hopefully it’s not as bad as it looks.” He whistles as he approaches the doors and kicks the automatic door button. “You’re looking rough.” 

“Gee, thanks, Hansen. You really know how to flatter a woman.” 

“More like flatten but we’ll get to that.” 

“Gah,” you snarl as he ushers you through the lobby. “You are the most vile man I’ve ever met.” 

“Ah, you really think so?” He angles you with him as he approaches the elevator and reaches to tap the button. “I don’t got a wife and kids at home waiting for me as I’m fucking the intern. Nah, I’m just tempting a working mom into adultery--” 

“Shut the fuck up!” You bark as the doors open. An elder woman is wheeled out at she sends you an appalled gape. Lloyd smiles and guides you into the elevator. 

“Not hard to piece together, you know?” 

“I’m telling you,” you warn him as the lobby is shut out by the metal doors. “It’s none of your business.” 

“It’s not and I don’t really care if Pete is boning the assistant he’s underpaying. But it explains a lot.” 

“Does it?” You snip. 

“Oh yeah. The way you leak like a faucet whenever I’m near for one--” 

“Gross.” 

“And the skill. Ma’am, I know you’ve been dreaming of it in that empty bed. The neglected wife, wiling away her spare hours, longing... well, here I am, baby, your knight in shining armour.” 

You whimper. The pain in your back is dull enough that you can bear it. It’s his needling that’s driving you up the wall. You need him to stop. You need everything to stop. You need one day when you’re not a plaything, not a wife, not a mom. 

“Keep sneering at me but we both know you came yesterday and it had nothing to do with the pills,” he taunts smugly. “So let me fix you up and I’ll give you all the Os you can handle.” 

🗄️

“It’s not a fracture,” the doctor turns away from the black and white images. “But I’m sure it hurts. You definitely bruised the bone but from what I can tell, your muscles are tight. It’s adding pressure to the trauma point. Pinching on a nerve or two.” 

You nod. It’s a relief that you didn’t break anything it’s not entirely great news. Lloyd turns away from the skeletal diagram on the table. “So, she’s fine?” 

“She’s in a lot of pain, isn’t she?” The doctor says. “She needs to go home. Relax. Sleep, if you can.” 

“Anything I can do to help?” He offers. “I really can’t stand to see her like this, doc. It makes me feel so powerless.” 

He touches his chest dramatically and you make a face.  

“Gentle massage. Just tender. Nothing to intense. Don’t push on anything,” he explains. “Warm bath if you can bear it, ice too. You said you have a support cushion?” You nod. “If you have to sit up, use it.” 

“I can handle that,” Lloyd drawls. “I can be gentle.” 

He smirks at you as you send him a sharp look. His lashes flick and his irises flare. You could punch him in the face and you think it would only egg him on. 

“Doc,” Lloyd nears him, “thanks. I owe ya. I’ll have a bottle of scotch sent to the practice.” 

“Just doing my job but I don’t mind a good cask-aged bottle.” 

“Consider it on its way,” Lloyd assures him and turns to you. 

You thank the doctor and let Lloyd help you off the bed. You don’t have the strength or energy to resist. It’s just the same as the last professional prescribed. Rest. You think he might just have to listen to the experts and give you a break. 

“Alright, let’s get you home, baby,” he cooes as you pass through the waiting room. You catch the glance of a woman who watches with envy as her husband slumps with arms crossed and resists a midday nap. If only she knew the type of man Lloyd truly is. 

He reclines the seat in the car for you. You close your eyes. The pills make you tired, just like everything else. 

The smooth motion of the car lulls you. You startle as you find yourself still. Lloyd lifts you from the seat and you spasm. You whimper and he clucks. 

“There ya go, making it all worse again,” he chides. 

You grab onto his shoulder. You can’t help but think of how Pete let you fall. You fear another crash down to earth. 

“I work out, baby face, don’t fucking worry,” he assures you. 

You furrow your brow and look around. You’re not in your neighbourhood. You thought he was taking you home. Instead, you’re staring up at one of those overpriced modern builds. 

“It’s glorious, isn’t it? The high life.” 

You don’t answer him. There’s nothing you could say that could convince him you’re not covetous, because you are. You could’ve gone down this road. You could’ve skipped the dry marriage and the fussy kids. 

That thought scourges you with guilt. You love your children and once upon a time you loved your husband too. It can’t be a mistake if it made you happy once. Simone and Malik still do make you happy. Hopeful, even. 

He brings you through the front door and strides into the airy front room. The windows stretch from ceiling to floor and let in the day. He lays you on the spacious sectional, the cushions wide enough for two, and he drags a pillow over for you. 

You close your eyes, content to just be in one place. 

He tugs your shirt up and exposes your stomach. You tug it back down and your lashes snap open. He tilts his head at you. 

“Baby, I’m helping.” 

“Leave it,” you warn. 

“What’s the problem? I saw it all before.” 

You glare at him. The problem is it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need to gawk at you. He doesn’t need to count the ways you can’t compare to Kendra and those other pretty interns. Just like the one your husband is fucking. 

“Leave that at the goddamn door,” he says as if he can read your mind. 

He yanks again and you relent. Whatever. You’re just something to be used. For Pete, you’re a dishwasher and a laundry machine. For Lloyd, you’re a piece of flesh and fodder for his twisted ego games. 

He undresses you with a tenderness so unlike him. His hands rove up and down your body with each piece he removes. When you’re completely exposed, you cover yourself futilely with your hands. He tweaks your nipple then toys with it. 

“Gotta turn you over,” he winks. “My favourite position.” 

“You can’t--” 

“Relax, I’m not gonna finish the job,” he taps your thigh. 

He helps you shift onto your side. You groan and grunt with the effort. You hug one of the cushions and lean onto it, your back to him. He flutters his fingers down your side and goosebumps rise over your skin. 

You shiver and he chuckles, “feels nice, huh? See, I can be a good boy.” 

You don’t reply. You close your eyes and cling to the strands of delight. That relief is so fleeting. He drags his fingers up and down and around your lower back. He sweeps around your hip and retraces the same path. Your muscles quiver but unwind. 

“That’s it,” he encourages you. 

You moan as the heat of his fingers seeps into you. It’s nice. You haven’t feel this placid in so long. Your head stirs and your limbs slacken. You forget the world and just let yourself be in that feeling. 

His hand creep along the back of your thigh then between your legs. He wiggles between them and you flinches. He pushes against your slit and rubs the side of his index against your clit. 

“Hansen,” you rasps. 

“Shhhh,” he hushes you. “Doctor’s orders. You need to relax.” 

[stevieraebarnes]

creating a new wip: fuck it we ball

trying to finish any wip: fuck it we bawl

[suzukiblu]

"New WIP" Not-Wednesday: "Hurt/Comforting the Author's Own Damn Ass" Edition

So like . . . for reasons I'd prefer not to talk about just now, today is a just a very awful and sad day for me, so I'm gonna just . . . make this lil' post here, yeah. Just gonna do that! Meaning I have some niche little new fic concepts I wanna play with that are, like, INTENDED to end up as short little one-shots, and I am emotionally in a fucking PLACE right now, so fuck it, we ball and I am gonna INDULGE.

Rules: Send me an ask with the title of one of the story pitches listed below, and I will write you at least three sentences in said story. Multiple requests are fine, just please send them in separate asks; just easier for me to fill and better for flow of reading through the WIP tag later.

Robin gets nested: One of those delightfully tropey omegaverse fics wherein an emergency situation/rogue attack in Gotham results in a feraled-up Robin finding a pup on the streets and things progressing from there. Which Robin? What pup?? That is a mystery to be uncovered, friends!!!!

Bart breaks a timeline: Specifically, Bart breaks THAD'S timeline and ends up with sort-of-custody of a very small and very weird vengeance-clone who operates at a completely different speed from him, and now he has to explain that to people. Including, uh. Thad.

Jon gets cloned and is not okay about it: What it says on the tin. Jon gets cloned and said clone comes out about as "finished" as Kon did. Specifically, about the age Jon SHOULD be in comparison to everyone else right now. Everyone is totally, totally normal about this. Fully, totally, ENTIRELY normal.

be the person your dog thinks you are: Match gets forcibly adopted, much to his own disgust. By Krypto the Superdog.

two-thirds more: Just . . . this tweet, but with de-aging and very, very small superheroes. That's it, that's the pitch.

[heylittleriotact]

First Line/First Page: Fuck It, We Ball Edition ™️

@emmg tagged me and shared a nightmare inducing portion of whatever fresh hell she’s working on that features an absolutely fucking TERRIFYING take on EmmLich, so you can mark me down as scared and horny.

I’m tagging @xxnashiraxx, @allofthebarks, and @preciouslittlebhaalbae

This is the first page of my smutty imagining of Emmrich and Rook’s dinner date in the Necropolis - you’ll have to stay tuned for the smut though, I’m afraid - it’s a bit further down the WIP💀

🩷💀🩷

Neve was right - I should have worn the old shoes…

She shifted her thigh upward slightly and pressed the ball of her foot into the ground, freeing her right heel from stiff new leather and hiding her grimace of relief behind the rim of her wine glass as she wriggled her somewhat crushed toes now that they weren’t crammed together, fighting for space in the narrow toe box.

There were a perfectly good pair of well broken in heels sitting in her wardrobe back at the Lighthouse that would have been more than acceptable to wear to dinner with Emmrich, but no, she had to go to Dock Town earlier in the day with Neve who had all but insisted she buy herself something nice for the occasion.

‘Not saying you don’t know how to clean up - I know you Watchers are a well put together bunch, but I don’t know… maybe you’ll have a nicer evening if you’re not sitting across from Emmrich wearing the same clothes you wear to make funeral arrangements with people?’

‘I’m almost certain he’ll be sitting across from me wearing the same clothes he wears to make funeral arrangements with people,’ Amina had pointed out, and Neve laughed.

‘How sure are you about that? I’d put my money on him showing up in the most formal, four-piece ensemble he owns if it helps his chances of getting you into bed tonight.’

She had a point - not about sex. She knew perfectly well that months of burning tension shrouded under a polite mantle of academic professionalism had become increasingly difficult to ignore now that they were… well - now that they were… together. That particular shoe was going to have to drop sooner rather than later, unless… She wrinkled her nose at the very thought: unless he was the sort to take a courtship so seriously that abstinence from intimate activities was expected until she shared his last name…

No… surely not. Not judging by the way his hands wandered and his lips eagerly roamed her throat when he kissed her against the Lovers’ Grave.

All well and good, but she didn’t want to overdress for the occasion - how embarrassing would that be? How obnoxious?

Her face reddened at the imagined awkwardness of waiting for Emmrich at the eluvian, dressed in a floor-skimming evening gown and gloves, her mass of sleek black hair time-consumingly plaited and pinned up to emphasize the small amount of grave gold that she did own, retrieved from its dusty velvet lined box for the first time in years because she hasn’t had occasion - nor the desire to actually wear any of it - unlike her gentlemanly new companion who clanged and clattered around everywhere he went like a sentient drawer of silverware.

He’d inevitably appear, descending the stairs from the library wearing what he wore every day - that well-loved waistcoat, a crisp clean shirt, and his favoured combed Druffalo wool trousers. He’d look as handsome as always, and not at all underdressed for a romantic dinner in the Necropolis, and his eyes would widen at the spectacle of her dressed like she was off for cocktails with the King of Ferelden. The corners of his mouth would twitch and he’d clear his throat in an attempt to stifle his laughter.

At her.

At how entirely stupid she looked.

‘It’s dinner - not a wedding proposal, Neve.’

‘If you say so, but if there’s a cummerbund involved, you owe me five gold.’

‘He wears a cummerbund every day,’ she sighed, turning and pulling open the door to one of the many clothing boutiques populating the market district.

[stump-not-found]

A03 wrapped 2024

tagged by @tempusedax-rerum >:DDDDD

1.) Biggest surprise while writing this year?

how much people responded to bill cipher saying daddy . how people have interpreted ford's relationship to mabel in theseus' guide; i've really tried to write him as really caring for her so seeing that interpreted as him disliking her is so interesting haha

most of all tho i'm just surprised and very grateful that theseus has received any attention, it's been so so wonderful reading everyone's thoughts and seeing them engage with the fic . it really makes the entire process so gratifying, and i hope folks continue to enjoy where the story goes next :D

2.) How many WIPs do you have in your docs for next year?

i've got my erotic billford rom com Can of Snakes that's over 20k right now . it has banger titles such as "sad handjob" and "penicular sounding", so someday i'll be posting that . i think they can make it work

i also just started Weirdmageddon 2: Electric Boogaloo: Lost In New York, an AU where ford gets stan to help him finish the portal after kicking fidd's to the curb . stan and bill become besties, ford hates it, and bill isn't allowed to destroy new york until he tries a slice of 'za .

this is not accounting for the mountain of comic WIP's i have but that shit aint goin on ao3

3.) Favourite character to write this year?

ford for sure . you give me a character who's autistic in a way that isn't cute and it just means the world to me . i get to give him evil autism . the autism where we acknowledge growing up autistic is traumatizing and makes you not a nice person all the time . fuck i love him . i get to dump so much of my own shit on him its so funnnnnnn yay lalalala

there was a whole paragraph i wrote that was just describing the perfect eye angle to maintain when walking through a farmers market to avoid social scenario's, which i had to remove because it was just me rambling about my own social survival strategies . farmers markets are dangerous places

i also love writing him in the context of bill . what a fucking mess they are i hope they never get better . but together <3

4.) The character that gave you the most trouble this year?

honestly stanley pines . i feel like i soften him too much, and lean in to his more positive traits than his more negative ones . it's hard because i feel like folks don't talk about the fact he was homeless for like 10 years & also had a breaking bad style adventure in columbia

the other problem is that he IS a big softy so idk . but he should be bitchier god damn it . he should be talking about his cataracts

6.) Did you receive any gifts this year?

I DID YOU INSANE PEOPLE thank you all it make a me smile:

@stemmmm @ancharan @kronehaze @sillyhyperfixator @ezrathean0n

7.) Did you do any collaborative works this year?

i feel like all my writing is collaborative!! i spend hours talking fic stuff with my wife & brother and my stuff is all the better for it . would love to do more of that w/ other folks i love it talking and thinking and playing is so fun

8.) What do you listen to while writing?

i don't like listening to music when i write lol ...... i sit in the cold silence and type in a frantic spiral .

i listen to a lotta different things while i think of things to write tho . atm all i want in the world is to make a theseus animation to this song it's very hammercore :

9.) Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

oogh that's hard to choose . i'm just gonna share a bunch that make me laugh

from theseus' guide step six:

Dipper, clearly, doesn’t get it, and Ford acknowledges he is too young to understand a professional working relationship.

also from step six:

“Oh, sure, I can move on,” Stan grins, “To the other items on my list. A, the shack’s toilets all suck, and the seats keep raisin’ automatically. B, your handwriting sucks. C–”

from theseus' guide step three:

“You think you’re coming back anytime soon?” “No, 8-Ball, I don’t think I’m ‘ coming back ’ anytime soon.” Ford snides, though 8-Ball either doesn’t register that, or doesn’t care; hard to tell with the guy, “I’m sure you’re aware, but your boss wants to kill my family. And destroy my universe. ” 8-Ball sniffs. “Cool. Mind if I eat your leftovers then? Teeth keeps eyeing them.” Ford frowns, “You couldn’t have just brought them with you?” “Nah, man, I want to eat them.”

lots of lines from step eight but we ain't there yet

uuuuhhghhg who to send this chain mail along to uuuhgghgh

@beccadrawsstuff if u wannaaaa . anyone else feel free to pick this up as well i'm bad at this lol

[isa-ghost]

Happy 1 year of existing, AMFMN. Wow.

To think a rant about the lack of truly Phil-centric fics spiraled into something that, a year later, has left me more creatively fulfilled than I have been in a long time... It's still crazy to think about.

To think that in just a year, saying fuck it we ball and writing my first proper fanfic has made me so many new friends, lead to me meeting so many new cool people, that has inspired so many others, that has won silly fandom awards, that has gotten amounts of fanart I never expected.

To think that just writing this fic has genuinely boosted my general self-confidence and improved my ability to take compliments beyond anything I could've imagined.

And it all started because I got a HINT of a canon possession arc that didn't actually happen until nearly 2 months later, and got insanely excited about it.

👆🏻 She had no idea this would be a 20 chapter 17,000+ hits fic with too many amazingly vivid and gut-wrenching scenes to count. She thought this was 5-6 chapters max.

👆🏻 She didn't know in roughly 2 months she would watch this chapter play out almost point for point, but in the new Reset part of the island.

She had no idea she'd get hit with Apollo's dodgeball like 20 times throughout the canon possession arc.

The fact that it only took 3 days for the fic to double in its expected length. And then it turned into 20 and an alternate crack ending.

👆🏻 She didn't know she'd be assigned famous author by dozens of other Crows she'd never met before. She doesn't know Ama herself will read the fic. She doesn't know MaepleTea will read the fic.

👆🏻 Thank every single one of you for making it worth committing a year+ of blood sweat and tears into this fic. For engaging so much both on ao3 and Tumblr, for sending asks, for tuning into streams where I just gush about the fic for the same length as a Phil stream, for excitedly asking about updates and basically never demanding me to update on your terms. Thank you for showing AMFMN so much love, and for being so invested in it that you've given my other smaller works and wips a chance too.

I will never not be grateful for the astronomical amounts of luck I've had with how much reception the fic has gotten. I had no concept of average fic stats at the start, so to have it explained to me what a big deal it is to reach these numbers... I genuinely can't comprehend it. I wish everyone had this kind of luck.

I don't have the time for a celebratory stream today, but maybe this weekend, if Offscot and my beta readers are available to host and be there <3

[avelera]

I definitely don't need more WIPs right not for Dreamling, but sometimes it is fun to brainstorm a total nonsense fanfic-y premise played totally straight, which is why I'm fondly remembering the Cinderella Dreamling AU I brainstormed on one of the servers.

(Canon Divergence AU, because that's how I roll)

2022 rolls around and Hob and Dream are friends. Just... friends. Hob would love there to be more. He sometimes suspects, more like wishes really hard, that Dream would like more but, as usual, the guy isn't talking if he does. And Hob is too chicken to ruin the friendship they finally achieved to do something so uncouth as proposition his oldest friend.

He comes to the sad and perhaps inevitable conclusion that Dream has had all the chances in the world to say something so the only conclusion is that Hob's just not that interesting to him in that way. Stands to reason. The more Hob learns about the Dreaming and Dream's fantastical realm and all his adventures, the more Hob's almost single-minded dedication to living a normal life despite his immortality seems a bit... dull.

Enter Desire. Or Death. Or both. This is fanfic-y nonsense, after all, the point is there is a device and the device is our fairy god-person who is also sick to death of watching Dream pine from afar but is also a huge fan of chaos.

They (let's go with Desire for now, even if the trope is a bit overplayed, because it seems like their sort of thing) offer Hob a proposal. The chance to go into the Dreaming each night to woo Dream. Best of all, it will be with Desire's protection of his identity and a small amount of magic to create a persona for wooing Dream that won't be immediately obvious.

Oh, also, Dream is throwing a big fuck-off bash for Faerie or some other Dreaming ally so there's gonna be a party for weeks up there. Perfect place to slip in a new stranger. (Hob is a little charmed by the idea that he gets to be the stranger for once.)

Enter: the Knight of Roses.

Basically, Hob creates a persona into which he pours all of charm, wit, and courtier's polish from 600s years of life. If nothing else, he's having the time of his life at what is essentially a fancy magical masquerade ball where he gets to try his damndest to sweep Dream off his feet.

And it seems to be working. Hard to tell with Dream. But each night, Dream seems excited to see the Knight of Roses again.

(It is working. It's working very very well. The Dreaming is awash in flowers. Dream spends every waking moment he's not at the ball pacing his quarters, interrogating his subjects as to how in the world he can't get to the bottom of who this is, and every person who could nominally be considered his friend including his siblings and subjects are tearing their hair out with how sick they are of hearing about the Knight of Roses.

Hob doesn't hear about it though in the waking because Dream is in love with him and doesn't want to ruin any chance they might have together someday by agonizing over a mysterious guest who is probably some trick sent by Desire or Lucifer or someone to mess with Dream. He has no idea how right he is and how wrong he is not to bring it up to Hob.)

Secret Identity shenanigans ensue, of course, until we hit a breaking point with drama, tears, etc etc the usual for the trope because of course (gasp!) Hob is the Knight of Roses and there never was any need to create a separate persona because Dream was also agonizing over whether Hob was interested and Hob was so chill around him he assumed he was misreading all the signs. (Hob was working so, so hard to appear that chill around Dream.) Identities are unmasked and everyone lives happily ever after.

(But Hob is keeping the outfit once they're officially together, because Dream really, really liked the romance of the whole Knight of Roses identity but he likes it even more now that he knows it's Hob and not an evil trap laid by one of his enemies.)

[hannie-dul-set]

ship dynamics: insane edition.

hi starting a new ask game (even though i still have backlogs from my prev ones but that's not the point). there's no way in hell that i can finish my existing monster-length wips rb but i wanna write some short and sweet (unhinged) drabbles. below are some ship dynamics you can choose from. send me a number + an idol/s (bnd/zb1/txt/enha/dream/svt) and i'll write something stupid. first come first serve! scratch that. some of these prompts can birth more than one idea so fuck it we ball!!!

gold digger x chaebol who doesn’t mind getting their gold dug

mildly useless demon who’s only solution is murder x human out for revenge BESIDES murder

actual criminal x law student who wants to arrest you just to get your attention

does not understand the concept of romantic attraction x for the thousandth time, i’m kinda in love with you dude

“go kill yourself x “i’m pretty sure they have a crush on me”

“i can fix them” x the project to be fixed

the angel on your right shoulder x you x the demon on your left shoulder

resident hot shit, cool guy is secretly a loser x discovered that very profitable secret 

the hero, who everyone’s rooting for to finally take down the villain x the villain, who is unfortunately very hot

giant ball of rage, anger, and violence x the violent ball’s human muzzle

[laiqualaurelote]

Ok but for the file thing, I'm DYING to know more about "The first thing Isaac chopped in half with his hand was the BELIEVE sign" pls <3

thank you for this ask for the WIP game! this is an extremely cracky AU in which the Richmond Players all start manifesting superpowers.

The first thing Isaac chopped in half with his hand was the BELIEVE sign. The second was Zoreaux.

To be fair to Isaac, he had failed to chop Jamie in half. (More on this later.) Thus, while Jamie went off to sulk and Zoreaux ambled up to poke at the broken sign saying, “Maybe we can make a new one?” Isaac thought nothing of clapping him on the back and replying, “Sure thing, bruv.”

His hand went through Zoreaux like a hot knife through butter. Zoreaux didn’t exactly fall apart, but he did sort of peel away in two halves like a melted clock in a Dalí painting. He was screaming the whole time. It was the modern art mash-up nobody wanted to see.

Isaac gaped at him in horror. The other players were yelling. “Bro! What did you do!”

“I didn’t – ” began Isaac. 

Zoreaux was still screaming. Weirdly, there was no blood or anything. The edges of him seemed to have been pinched off, like Play-doh.

“We must put him back together!” shouted Dani. He and Richard were on their knees, trying to jam the two halves of Zoreaux back together, only Zoreaux seemed to be drooping and stretching through their fingers. “Mon dieu,” gasped Richard. “He is like cheese! But not good cheese! Like the cheap mozzarella from Pizza Express!”

“Osti de tabarnak de sacrament!” shrieked Zoreaux. “What the fuck is happening!”

“I got the duct tape!” called Will, rushing in. He tossed the roll to Sam, who began trying to tape Zoreaux back together as the rest of the players rushed in to try and help. 

“Wait, wait.” Something was happening as Sam’s hands brushed against the halves of Zoreaux. They seemed to be melding back together. “Sam!” cried Dani. “It’s you! You are healing him!”

“Wow,” said Sam, staring at his hands as they knit Zoreaux back together. “Wait, I need to make sure he’s aligned properly. Can I get more light?”

Everyone was temporarily blinded as Dani burst into a blazing ball of brilliance.

“...okay,” said Sam after some time, “way more light than I needed, but thank you.”

“De nada, Sam!” 

It was at this point that Trent Crimm walked into the room. He stopped and put on his glasses, as if that would clarify the tableau of the AFC Richmond team duct-taping their cloven goalkeeper together while one of their strikers was blazing like a lighthouse beacon and their captain stood in the corner with his hands apologetically raised in the air. 

“What,” said Trent, “the actual fuck?”

*

Trent’s first thought was that he would have to re-pitch his book as a fantasy novel, because nobody was going to take it seriously as non-fiction any more.

“So you’ve got healing hands,” he repeated to Sam.

“I think so?” Sam stared at his hands. “Or maybe I just have the ability to stick things back together. I don’t know. Perhaps I should test it on another injury?”

Across the locker room, O’Brien cleared his throat. “Sam? Can you touch my butt?”

Trent and the players turned to stare at him. 

“Not for gay reasons,” O’Brien clarified. “For science.”

“Both of those are valid,” said Sam. “I would be happy to touch your butt for you.”

Trying to ignore O’Brien casually dropping trou in the corner, Trent removed his spectacles and pinched the bridge of his nose. Dani’s brightness was giving him a migraine. “I’m sorry, bruv,” said Isaac to Zoreaux for the thousandth time.

“It’s okay,” said Zoreaux. They had yet to remove the duct tape, just in case, so he looked like a very poorly-wrapped package. “It didn’t actually hurt. I was just freaking out, bro.”

Babatunde was holding on to Zoreaux’s little finger and walking across the room while Bumbercatch followed him with a measuring tape to see how far the finger could stretch. “Three metres!” yelled Bumbercatch as Richard tried to cross the room to his locker and ended up having to do the limbo under the finger. “Okay, take it around the corner!”

“I just thought,” went on Isaac, “‘cos I touched Jamie, and I didn’t chop him in half…” He trails off.

“What?” said Jamie. And then, as Isaac made a move towards him, “Whoa! Are you fucking mental?”

“Sorry.” Isaac backed off. 

“Could I test a theory?” ventured Trent. “Bearing in mind that I mean this as a purely scientific inquiry.”

“Sure,” said Jamie. “Whatev – oi!” he yelled as Trent stabbed him in the hand with his pen.

The pen snapped in two. Ink splattered over Jamie’s hand, the skin of which remained unbroken. Jamie screwed up his nose. “That’s disgusting, man.”

“I think you’re invulnerable, Jamie,” said Trent.

Jamie considered this. “That mean I can’t be hurt?”

“I believe so, yes. We’ll have to run more tests to be sure.”

“Huh,” said Jamie. “Sick.”

“It worked!” O’Brien yelled from across the room. “It’s a miracle! I’m healed!”

“Okay,” said Trent wearily, “so we’ve got…five superpowers that have manifested so far. Anybody else feel a superpower coming on?”

“I got one,” called out Jan Maas. “I’m always right.”

The locker room erupted in laughter. “Shut the fuck up, Jan Maas,” they chorused.

Jan shrugged. “I’m just saying.”