#pp writing

[kawareo]

New Chapter of Godsbound is out!

Tumbling in the grass with your best buddy whom you do not remember, but who also doesn't remember you the way that you are :D

[sheepmc]

Rewarding Wriothesley

Deciding to reward Wriothesley after hitting BIG PP numbers, you blindfolded him after telling him to strip naked and told him to restrain himself and not touch.

Slowly your hands trace and caress all his scars with a few licks to certain scars in sensitive areas, his breath coming out in puffs and groans clenching his fists tightly trying his damn hardest not to touch you, not to pull you in and kiss your sweet lips breathless.

A seductive giggle left your lips as you inch your hand lower and lower down his body, fingers weaving themselves along the trail of hair from his stomach to his cock. Oh how delicious he is with hair covering his body but most of all is how musky he smells especially after sex or even when he works out, gods how wet you become like a bitch in heat.

Oh what was that, that low groan like growl oh now that made you clench and what caused that groan like growl well that was because of you licking, sucking and fondling his balls but that wasn't even the best part it was his cock twitching uncontrollably almost like he was about to cum.

And so licking from his balls to that big vein that wraps around his cock running the tip of your tongue over then to the tip slowly easing his big thick cock into your mouth fitting as much as you can wanting to push him over the edge, wanting him to snap and manhandle you into whatever position he saw fit.

Wriothesley on the other hand he's so close to snapping, so close to thrusting more of his cock into your mouth

"Fuucckk~.. that's it that's it.. so close gonna cum~"

Gods his moans made you clench hard and you just couldn't resist sneaking the hand that was fondling his balls to touch, rub and finger your needy aching pussy that desperately need his cock and cum.

Making the pace of your bobbing to that of your fingers edging both yourselves wanting to reach that blissful high together.

Already so drunk on his taste, his scent, his musk that it sent you over the edge along with Wriothesley after your tongue swipe over that one big vein that had him cumming down your throat.

Slowly pulling off his cock with a wet pop you opened your mouth to show him before swallowing and showing him again that you indeed swallow it all along with your fingers that covered in your juices and let him suck on them tasting it as he stared into your eyes while doing so.

"You taste so fucking good~.. now it's my turn and let's see how well you do in resisting~"

Tags: @moraxsthrone @zhongrin @zhxngii @wrisu

[jonasiegenthaler]

"I mean, people just figure your pp out at some point"

[starsfic]

one of the bigger bodies' voice changes because of puberty

They tried to fix it.

Dr. Harley Sawyer was both furious and fascinated when Stella Greybur stopped by his office to explain that DogDay's voice appeared to be changing, going through puberty.

The Bigger Bodies were not meant to age. They outlasted age. They could die, but only violently.

DogDay was an anomaly.

It was one the scientists failed to understand, putting DogDay under and cutting into him again and again. CatNap's voice was different as well, but CatNap was a freak in the ranks of the Smiling Critters. DogDay was meant to be different.

The voice couldn't be fixed. It couldn't be reverted. It kept changing, turning deeper and huskier.

The Doctor gave up when a scientist made the mistake of asking "Hey, Doctor. He kinda sounds like you."

(It definitely wasn't because of the seven angry faces glaring into the camera, all protectively clumped around the subject.)

[altcvnningham]

hungry

william "case" calderon x f!reader x adler

summary: messy drabble inspired by this ask, where i can absolutely imagine a threeway with case and adler <3

tags/cw: nsfw, mdni, fem!reader, dubcon (at first), threesome, oral (giving and receiving), groping mention, light spitroasting, established case x reader, case 'shares' reader, adler is a sicko who hates seeing other bitches have what he wants, copious use of the word "pretty" wc: 1k

a/n: a snippet i might write more to if i can be bothered. unedited, messy, and sloppy as the head i'm gonna give them both. i just needed to get this idea out of my mind before it drove me insane. i still feel shy posting smut and i only had enough steam for just a drabble so sorry if it's uhhhhh not good,,,

It’s like being pulled in two completely different directions- greedy hands groping in all places, guttural grunting against your ear and into your neck, cornered by two wild animals, rabid and snarling. By no means are they ignorant of your needs, but it does get lost in the white haze of bliss as they both selfishly chase their own pleasure into you.

Hungry, is the only word that comes to mind when you let them take you, share you, like a wounded lamb torn between two wolves; the glint in Case’s eye evident of some faraway fantasy of his being fulfilled as he watches you get ruined by somebody else, someone with hands just as dirty- if not dirtier- as his; the foggy look in Adler’s indicative of a kind of possessiveness that you could practically feel burning into you whenever he glowered at you across a room, worse whenever you were with Case. Always a wretched dog, starving for what isn’t his. Never liking to seeing someone with a shiny toy he isn’t allowed to sink his teeth into. It was all inevitable, that it would happen like this. Only really a matter of when.

You’re wide-eyed and helpless when Case presses you down into the mattress, a firm hand on your tummy, pinning you like a moth as your legs kick and flail around his hips. Your head spills back so sweetly when you hear Adler’s heavy footsteps behind you- or, at least Case thinks so, his pretty girl- hair dangling in tangled tresses off the edge of the bed as you watch, upside-down, as Adler leisurely saunters over to you, unbuckling his belt.

The image of yourself laid bare upon the bed reflects in his glasses, your own doe-eyed expression mocking you with your shameless submission. You catch the flit of a smirk tug at Adler’s mouth as he tilts his head down at you. You don’t need to see his eyes to know he’s looking at you- like, really looking at you, raking down your figure and eating this picture of you up, not knowing if this first time seeing you this way might also be the last. Case is being such a good sport, sharing you like this. Adler wouldn’t want it to go to waste rushing himself, being unappreciative. You’re just too pretty- he’s wondered what you’d look like under those clothes for weeks.

You see in that same reflection Case’s body close over yours, mouthing over your breasts, down your abdomen, kissing- ow, biting- between your thighs, before he takes your legs and slings them limply over his shoulders. You go to crane your neck back down to watch as he pushes his face into your cunt but Adler’s hand from behind you finds its way down the column of your throat, uncharacteristically careful as he coaxes your head back, and tucks his thumb under your jaw to turn your face to the side. You gaze upward, so sweet and silly as your mouth parts in shock, hearing the sound of him smacking his cock against your hollowed cheek before you see him doing it- if you had any protest at all it’d go unheard with how he tuts at you anyway, so condescending when he nudges the head against your pouting lips and crooning about how that mouth’s too pretty not to take it for me, sweetheart.

You cry out as Case’s tongue licks a thick, languid stripe over your clit, and Adler uses your gasping mouth to push his cock inside. You’d already been drooling nonsense when they’d groped you in the hallway, bullying you into pliant submission, all your babbling please don’t and someone will hear and you’re being too rough only serving to make your mouth nice and hot and wet for when he fucks it. And he groans, so appreciative of you, of that pretty mouth your girl’s got, Case, and he fucks it slow, just to show you how much he likes it. Savouring every inch he feeds you, that your tongue curls up eagerly to taste. The thick intrusion, nearly too much to bear, has you gagging almost immediately, reflexively jerking your head back to breathe, but Adler’s hand slides into your hair and keeps you still, steady, insisting it’s easier that way. Relax, he murmurs dryly. You barely hear him over the sound of Case’s starved moaning as he eats you out.

But when Case gets too impatient, his own need stifling, he clambers over you, slots himself between your thighs clumsily, jostling you around enough to push your throat up further on Adler’s length; it hits the back of your throat with a shrill cry and you all but weep when Case slides into you, trembling hands grasping his shoulders as he fills you to the hilt in one careless thrust.

Between your pathetic noises you hear Adler laugh, a snide and condescending chuckle as his hand brushes your hair back from your face, mutterings of how precious you look taking it all so well. You never thought you’d feel so enamoured by his praise, when it’s uttered so mockingly. So different from Case’s, who gasps between sucking your tits, that you’re so perfect, baby, so fucking sweet. A swell of pride as you slacken your throat, earning a broken moan from Adler when you swallow him deeper. Doesn’t much matter that you choke and gag and spring tears to your eyes at the pressure- somehow even the asphyxiation feels like a reward, evidence of your effort. Case is slack-jawed as he fucks you, slow and languid, airy and mindless with eyes fixed on your sweat-sodden face as you take Adler so willingly, so obedient. In his delirium, hypnotised at the sight of you blissed out and skewered between them both, he draws a thumb up to stroke your cheek, to feel where Adler stuffs the hollow of it.

Perfect girl.

[lalunanymph]

lose lose game (m) — ginoza n.

ginoza finds himself caught between hell and a hard place when he’s forced to bring in a latent criminal who happens to be the only person he has ever loved in his life

warnings: unprotected sex, soft!ginoza, slight yan!gino, reader is coded to be feminine, college crushes, mild angst, gino is traumatized lmao, ooc!gino, restraints, gags, mentions of cheating, kinda dubcon if you squint, weapons, canon typical violence, enforcer!gino x fem!reader, unedited, unbeta-ed oops

dawn says: debuting my first ever pp fic hiii look im gonna be honest, i only watched 3 eps and half of the movie but i would let this man do unspeakably unholy things to me

Ginoza is a hard head.

As much as his superiors and colleagues would vouch for the opposite, you’ve known him since you were a girl and he was a boy.

He hated losing, and more than that, he hated being proved that he was wrong.

So, when the stats reflect past his murky dark eyes and encroaches the territory of his disbelieving thoughts, he has to fight back the urge to hurl.

120 Crime Coefficient.

The coffee he ingested this morning as his only meal churns heavily in his stomach. 

The smiling face and rosy lips dug through his thoughts, rendering them a repeat of no, no, not her, not her. Fear clawed through his chest and he was once again 8 years old, fearing the stomping of boots; the cracking thuds of bodies against the drywall.

Watching mutely in horror—in helplessness—as his father was dragged away by men in suits, his entire bloodline branded as an impending danger to society.

Akane’s voice is soft, cutting through the fog of his whirlwind thoughts. “You know what happens next, right?”

Ginoza’s nostrils flare. Another thing he absolutely detested was someone telling him what to do when he already had half a mind set on it.

For the first time since becoming her subordinate, Ginoza flashes Akane a veiled look of distrust. She misinterpreted it as his reluctant acceptance.

“Good. Bring her back, Gino-chan, then we can talk about your reinstatement as an Inspector.” 

Dangling his old post right in front of him like a bone to the dogs he once swore to hate, nothing could prepare Ginoza for the flash of pure hatred coursing through him like a lightning strike. 

But, he muffles the resentment; sends Akane a curt nod.

“I’ll be back,” is what he promised. 

With her out of the system, is what he didn’t say out loud. 

Shuttering light flitted across your face, the train tracks above passing in mechanical whirs, waking you from a fitful sleep. 

The dregs of fatigue still clung to your eyelashes, rendering you in a drowsy stupor that you didn’t notice a shadow moving across your boxed-in room. It was the cheapest unit you could find on your runaway budget; after a street scanner had spotted you, word soon escalated to your job management and you had discovered your things packaged in boxes right outside your office door—effectively rendering you jobless and homeless in one go. 

There was nothing you could do but run for the streets, hiding in the shadows until someone killed you or you were arrested. 

Sitting up, you stifled a yawn. 

Someone cleared his throat. 

Eyes shooting wide open, you quickly leapt from the bed, hitting the lights to illuminate the barrel of a Dominator staring right at your face. 

The man behind it was quiet as a whisper, his hard eyes trailed right on your shell-shocked expression.

“Don’t resist.” 

You swallowed hard, imploring him with a wide gaze. “Please… I did nothing.” 

He stepped closer into the light, and your chest squeezed in recognition. “Nobuchika?” 

Ginoza looked like he had bit down on a handful of nails; mouth twisted into a grimace, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.

After years of having not seen each other since college, Ginoza looked different. 

Taller. Lethal. The corners of his lips were downturned—tired. 

You felt more than noticed the heavy blanket of exhaustion eclipsing his broad shoulders. Something stirred deep in you—a kindred spirit reaching out towards his own. 

“Don’t make this anymore difficult for me.”

Gulping, you balled your fists. “So, you’re gonna arrest me? Let them torture me?” 

Those green eyes with heavy bags underneath them darkened under your weak, fluorescent light. “No. But, if you put up resistance, I’d be forced to do something I don’t want to, as well.” 

A shaky exhale of a breath. And then, you turned on your heel to run. 

Ginoza caught you in a flash, his strong arms vining around your smaller frame. 

“Let me go!” you screamed, kicking his shin, clawing at his arms. Everything in the universe was transpiring against your escape when he clamped a hand around your mouth.

Going up against an apex predator was foolishness to the highest heavens, especially when said hunter already had restraints prepared.

Your arms were bound behind your back, a lead gag slotted in between your teeth. Ginoza was efficient in subduing you without the need for his Dominator; a feat of pure shame considering how you couldn’t even put up a good fight.

He hauled you towards a kitchen chair, unceremoniously dumping you onto the hard bench. Fastening another knot to the wooden arms, he had you captured and restrained; your watery eyes lifted towards him to beseech for mercy.

The boy you knew before—the one who brought teachers homemade cards on their birthdays—was a far cry from the cutthroat man staining your periphery. 

As if he could read your mind, Ginoza got down onto one knee, right in front of you. His expression was unreadable, Dominator whirring on the ground beside him.

You eyed the weapon with unconcealed fear, and a beat of terror flitted in between both of your tense figures. 

Green eyes the colour of murky, contaminated pools fixed onto the tears escaping down your cheeks. He thumbed them away, careful to not touch your parted lips. 

“I’m sorry,” was all he could say. You stared at him in abject horror—at this man who was condemning you to a life of isolation. “But, I have to bring you in. Personal… feelings… aside.” 

Feelings? 

You struggled to fix your watery eyes onto him. In the background, your Psycho Pass beeped, reminding the both of you of the stats which was damning evidence of your deteriorating psyche.

“What happened?” 

Nobuchika spoke softly, as if someone could overhear. He was probably right to be this hesitant; Sibyl’s eyes and ears were never far from latent evil, as the saying once went. 

You clamped your gaze down to your knees, the gape in your chest throbbing. More hot tears squeezed past your closed eyes and you gasped, heaving and crying in front of a friend you hadn’t seen for years.

Memories of late nights kombini runs, leaking ink stains on paper and hot ramen noodles filtered in your mind. There was once a life where you had all the potential to be great; to grow and change society. Unjaded and unfettered, you had hoped for your country’s best, only to see it all crashing down in one fell swoop.

Gently, he tugged the gag out of your mouth, letting the spit-slicked bit roll down your chin.

“Hey. I’m speaking to you.”

Eyes flashing, you regarded him with frosty distaste. 

“You’re not supposed to speak to someone who's latent,” you seethed. “Or, have you forgotten your code, Enforcer.”

The badge on his chest burned. 

By now, an Inspector should be in his ear, telling him to unanimously pull the trigger and paralyse you. But, Ginoza swatted those thoughts away, focused on extracting the reason why your Hue was murky and your Psycho Pass stats were affected.

“I can help you.” 

Akane would tear him a new one. His position would get even more muddier; a dog who could not kill off his prey. They would tighten his leash, get eyes on him everywhere he went. He wouldn’t even be allowed to leave his apartment if they could help it. 

Fate or stupidity kept him frozen in one spot, those sharp eyes drinking in your waning resolve.

You sniffed, hanging your head forward. Finally letting your dense truth roll off your stubborn tongue. 

“My ex-boyfriend cheated on me and syphoned all of my money away and I… I want to kill that motherfucker.”

Your sobs filled the room. Ginoza discreetly clicked off his audio, turning his body cam’s eye to the ground.

Something bloomed in his chest, whether from familiarity or pity, he could not pick it apart. Ever since he saw your name in the system, he was a haunted man, trying and failing to fight this war between duty and memory—the same conflict he carried for 20 over years pouring like rancid waves to liquify his strong sense of righteousness. 

Good and bad—they wavered in the face of his longtime college crush. 

Ginoza always thought he would spend his entire life alone when you left the prefecture and he never got to tell you his real feelings. He was loyal like that; a pandering dog waiting for the one true owner of his heart to come back.

And here you were, a mirage shimmering right in front of him. Playing right into his hands. 

Those scarred knuckles caressed your cheek, catching you off guard with his tender afflictions. 

The dark locks framing his face from his loosening man bun tickled your chin when he leaned forward. Soft as down, his lips met yours, swallowing your sudden gasp of surprise.

Ginoza drank you in; a man hungry for a taste of life after being denied his human tendencies for years on end. Funny how his dedication to the Bureau could come undone because of one single woman—because of you. 

Forgetting and re-remembering the aching beat of his heart; Ginoza was gentle when he cupped your face in those large palms of his, careful to lick across the seam of your lips—tasting all of you in. 

Your soft moans caressed the upper palate of his hot mouth, and he knows the same feelings he harboured towards you were reciprocated. 

They ignited his desires, fueled his dangerous thoughts and occupations on what he needed to do next.

There was no way he was going to let this rush of exhilaration let him go. Since the beginning of his consciousness, his thoughts were moulded by the system, forged by the system and executed by the people who upheld the very system which had forced him to go numb. 

You were the one thing to bring colour back to his dull senses—it all started to make sense why he had held out this long; played by the system’s rules if it meant he could get you in the end.

“Nobuchika,” you whispered once he broke off the kiss, the sweetest exhilaration rushing through him from the sound of his name coming from you. 

“I’ll protect you,” unprompted, his promise was thorough and sure. “Anything that happens to you… I won’t let them touch you.”

The tinge of possessiveness marked its way as tears of gratitude down your face. You nodded and peeled your brilliant gaze onto him. 

Spurred on by the pure trust you had in him, Ginoza removed your binds, helping you stand up. You crashed into his arms, and he held you there, cheek squished right to your hair.

“I never thought you had feelings for me,” he murmured. “Seems like a dream.”

Your watery chuckle rebounded back into his ringing ears. “You were always so distant.” As you spoke, you tugged on the lapels of his suit, smoothing your hands all over his broad pecs. “You kinda scared me, if I’m being honest.”

In reciprocation, he shrugged the jacket off, eyeing you hungrily down the line of his defined nose.

“I did?” 

You hum. Reaching for the buttons of his crisp, white shirt, you slowly tugged it off. “But, I always thought you were brilliant, Gino—” 

“Nobuchika,” he almost panted when he felt your touch sear onto his scarred chest. “Call me by my name.” 

You gazed up at him past your lashes, nodding. “Nobuchika. I love your name.”

Without a word of complaint, he let you crowd him onto your bed, the old springs squeaking in resistance towards the fall of his larger body. Straddling his lap, your burning eyes set his mind ablaze—he suddenly felt too dizzy, like all the air in the room had been sucked up.

Ginoza skimmed his prosthetic hand down your thigh, feeling the taut sinew and muscles which dimpled underneath his mechanical fingers.

Soft. You were so, so soft for him. 

He perched up on his elbows, mouth frantically finding yours. You let him bruise kisses onto your parted lips, down your jaw and across your collarbone and neck.

Ginoza slotted his hands onto your hips, holding you like a man making sure his treasure was secure. 

He let you tug off his pants, shrug off your clothes to leave you glowing and fully naked in the half-light.

Low and static-like, in the background, he thought he heard someone calling his name over the comm. 

Common sense and the call of his superiors were drowned out the second you sank down on his dripping cock. Ginoza’s spine unfurled like a precious book, his moan sweetened with the taste of surrender. You paced yourself with hands locked around his shoulders, muffling your moans into his neck.

The sullied Enforcer lets you rut yourself on his cock, using him to get yourself off as he patiently plastered sloppy kisses down your throat and jaw. 

Your eyes rolled back in the dim light, whites exposing for a glimmering second to set off the wild, unprecedented racing of his heart. 

Ginoza supposed he has never felt such pride before in his life when he feels your pussy shuddering around his cock; an honest love letter to his unwavering passion at fucking into you until a rush of slick stains his thighs. 

You had come, gasping out his name and stabbing your nails right into his skin.

He feels the fever pitch breaking, tightens his core and gives one last snap of his hips upward.

Not caring that he had fucked you raw or that you were technically an enemy under his lawful consideration, Ginoza allowed himself to pour every drop of his desire right into your willing body. 

Your syrupy mewls lusciously caressed his hot ears, and the world goes black for one second as he tries to catch his breath. Weaving in and out of consciousness, Ginoza felt you standing, and his instinct told him you were just going to the bathroom to clean up.

Sleep weighed him down, insistent and caring—nurturing him in her motherly arms.

Ginoza slept like he had never done before since the day he became an Enforcer; cradled in threadbare blankets and the memory of your body pressed up to his. 

Till this moment, he swore he had felt you worm your way back into his arms, and even the brief, ghosting of your lips on his forehead.

But, when he opened his eyes, he noticed that the room was empty. 

A chirping, mechanical voice told him it was currently three in the morning; a full two hours since he had first arrived at your decrepit home.

Your clothes were missing, bag gone. 

Ginoza jumped to his feet, scrambling to put his clothes back on; cursing right under his breath.

His enforcement comm buzzed, and he felt Akane’s frustration before he answered the call. If Kogami were here, he would’ve laughed at his lapse of judgement—how easily good pussy could knock him out.

“She’s gone,” Akane said, flat and emotionless. “I expect a full report on how you had let her go, Ginoza.”

Before he could open his mouth and apologise—defend himself from her rightful flurry of disapproval, his Dominator whirled up. 

And Ginoza couldn’t believe his ears. The mechanical clicks almost didn’t set in for him—left him mute and rooted to the spot from the magnitude of what he had just done. 

How drastically he had fucked up and your cleverly veiled deceit which stunned him right to the core. 

Target’s CoEfficient level has changed. Target: L/N Y/N, affiliated with Shambala Float rebels. Enforcement mode: Lethal Eliminator. Please aim carefully and eliminate the target.

pussy so good it knocked him out like nyquil sjsjsjjs

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

[severus-snaps]

Sirius:

“You knew Sirius was going to break out of Azkaban?” said Lupin, his brow furrowed. “When nobody has ever done it before?” “He’s got dark powers the rest of us can only dream of!” Pettigrew shouted shrilly. “How else did he get out of there? I suppose He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named taught him a few tricks!” Black started to laugh, a horrible, mirthless laugh that filled the whole room. “Voldemort, teach me tricks?” he said.

Snape:

Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout were standing at a smashed window. “He jumped,” said Professor McGonagall as Harry and Luna ran into the room. “You mean he’s dead?” Harry sprinted to the window, ignoring Flitwick’s and Sprout’s yells of shock at his sudden appearance. “No, he’s not dead,” said McGonagall bitterly. “Unlike Dumbledore, he was still carrying a wand … and he seems to have learned a few tricks from his master.” With a tingle of horror, Harry saw in the distance a huge, batlike shape flying through the darkness toward the perimeter wall.

currently obsessed with the fact that it's plausible that Voldemort is out there giving little dark arts lessons in his spare time

(and also with sirius wrongly being thought of as a spy on voldemort's side only to be widely recognised as working for the Light™️ following his death, and that snape went through the same thing, and -)

[daily-property-police]

For the requests, our boys in last life?

Day 705- HIII OUPRLE

[autosadist]

im on going out and haveing fun duty tonight

[ginkovskij]

he is so fine

[srasdoesthings]

The women at 2 A.M.

Had thoughts of my other PC and her relationships, so have a little blurb to go with this :p

The orphanage room was dank and small. The bed was creaky. The bedding was crusty (seriously, just how often was she having sex?) The whole place felt miserable

And she was talking about him again.

"Why am I still here?" Whitney thought irritably, fiddling with a cigarette. She should just leave, honestly. Why did she have to listen to some worthless slut rambling about her feelings and shit?

Whitney glances to the side to look at her, bright purple hair more ruffled than her usual, curtaining pale skin marred with bruises and bite marks (Her work, she proudly thought to herself). Lace pink lingerie hugs her form as she carefully puts on mascara.

Whitney herself wasn't all too put together. Blonde curls tangled up and all over the place, clad only in her underwear. Red scratches marked where that slut held her, gripping at her body in a bid to pull her closer, begging her to fuck her with her strap harder, to be rough with her body.

And now they were here, sitting on Adoncia's crusty, cum-stained bed, with Whitney listening as she went on and on about how cute Robin was. How sweet he was to get her a milkshake. That she was happy his lemonade business was booming and that she was proud of him for being open to her about his crossdressing.

Whitney found their relationship funny. They were "in love" . They "only cared about each other". They were "soulmates". And yet, an hour ago, it was Whitney who was fucking the brains out of her. It was Whitney whose arm she would cling to. It was Whitney who she she smiled at while begging to be called a good girl.

On top of that, Adoncia was a massive slut. She knows that girl has slept with everyone in this town. She's seen the fancy car that picks her up from school, encountered her in back alleys slobbering over that freak's cock.

Even now, she was getting ready to head to her whore job

—Whatever. Useless stuff really. Whitney couldn't care. She should just leave-

"Another cig?" Adoncia smiles, pulling a box of cigarettes.

"Stupid slut, I still not done with this one." She hissed, rolling her eyes. Adoncia giggles before continuing her rambles.

... It doesn't matter, Whitney supposes. As long as her slut keeps her legs and pretty holes open when she asks, Whitney will let her "play house" with whoever she wants.

[sroloc--elbisivni]

'hm i wonder what my total ao3 word count is these days, I remember I wanted to hit 1 million by the end of 2024'

.....72,000 words in three and a half months is totally doable right. wait how long have I been posting on ao3 anyway.

....72K IN THREE AND A HALF MONTHS IS TOTALLY DOABLE WHICH MEANS 72,000 WORDS IN TWO AND A HALF MONTHS IS ALSO TOTALLY DOABLE, RIGHT--

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

SLOW DOWN!

being a pro soccer player, it’s no surprise that isagi has his fair share of promotional events and galas he has to go to. he’s lucky to have you by his side to keep him company. but obligation quickly turns to temptation as he finds himself unable to keep his hands off of you, whisking you away where no one else can see...

gender neutral reader

content warning(s): future au, slightly suggestive content

“Y-Yoichi, someone’s going to see…!”

The black-haired soccer star practically on top of you didn’t stop for a moment, and his lips greedily claimed yours. Your voice died out to the kiss, your arms curled around his shoulders as if you weren’t sure whether to push or pull at him. His hands slid up the pretty formal clothes that you had spent days skirting around, too scared of ruining them if you were to touch them. 

Well, you couldn’t get too mad at him for that. He was the one who paid for it, after all.

As if to affirm your words, you held your breath as a flurry of voices narrowly missed the two of you. Your heartbeat hammered between your ears, your entire body set on edge as Isagi simply ignored the situation, grabbing at your body with a desperation that he normally reserved for behind closed doors.

“Sorry, love,” he laughed weakly against your mouth. His voice sounded low, hungry, desperate—horribly unlike the quiet and reserved boy that you were used to. He swallowed, and you could see his neck strain against the tight collar of his suit. “You look so good. I’d go crazy if I waited any longer.”

You knew you left any semblance of an ordinary life behind the moment you fell in love with Isagi. The boy craved soccer like it was air to him, and him becoming a professional player who would constantly be thrust into the spotlight was only one of many givens for him. As long as he got to continue his fight to be the best in the world, Isagi didn’t care what the situation around him looked like. But for you, it meant that you had to adjust to the sudden media craze and the luxury life that came with dating a professional player. 

Truth be told, you would be more than happy to just be with Isagi. The nice life was a plus.

“We’re at a fancy gala,” you breathed in between his starved kisses. You prayed that he hadn’t crinkled your clothes too badly. “We’re as good as dead if people catch us acting like animals here!”

Isagi simply pressed his lips against yours again, and you whimpered quietly when his teeth snagged at your bottom lip. With enough pressure to serve as a warning, his usually calm blue eyes swirled with a kind of demonic desire. 

“That’s an easy fix.” His hands squeezed at your waist. “We won’t get caught.”

“Yoichi!” You gasped. He grunted, and when he kissed you again, you shuddered when his tongue dragged slowly across the places on your lips where he had teased with his teeth. The whiplash between the suddenness of your situation and the way he haphazardly flitted between being kind and being brutal made your head spin.

“I could barely think straight earlier, did you know that? You always look breathtaking, but something about tonight… seeing you all dolled up in the clothes I got for you, clinging to my arm while you smiled at all the cameras…” Isagi’s fingertips buried themselves into your soft flesh, pinching at your body. You felt utterly debauched, already falling apart at the seams thanks to a handful of kisses. Since when had you gotten so weak for this boy? 

He cleared his throat. Some of his expertly gelled hair had fallen out of place, sweeping across his forehead in sensual tendrils. He pushed them out of the way, and Isagi stared at you, taking in all the details of how you looked right now, within his grasp.

“I want you.” Isagi leaned in close to you again until your bodies were connected, chest-to-chest. If the devil was a person, you swore he was there, in the form of your boyfriend and whispering words that sent shivers down your spine against your ear. “Now more than ever, love.”

“W-We can do all of that and more at home…,” you futilely pleaded, trying your best to hold onto the crumbling dregs of your rationality. “It’s too risky here.”

“Only if you make it that way.” His lips quirked upwards into a devilish smile, and he reached for his collar. Unloosening the once crisp and clean tie with a rough yank, he kept you pressed up against the wall with his strong thighs and hips as he practically ripped the top of his formal outfit apart.

“God. Much better,” he grumbled. “Could barely breathe in them.”

You did your best not to think about how expensive his clothes were. You hated the thought of being caught by some fancy executives like this, having snuck away from the important event to make out in some room in one of the winding hallways, your reputation as Isagi’s supportive partner hanging by a thread. But more so than the hatred, you couldn’t deny the growing heat tugging at the insides of your stomach and chest, egged on by Isagi’s irrational behavior.

And god, was he tempting you too.

Isagi always looked charming when he was off the pitch. Dressed in modest clothes and not one to flaunt his wealth too much, he resembled just about any other man his age. Yet there was the rustic and comforting side to him that drew you to him, and you’d be a horribly, horrible liar to pretend like you weren’t drawn to that Plain Jane aspect of him. But even on the pitch too, the exhilarating gleam in his eyes and the greedy way his body yearned for a goal, his sweet demeanor swapped out for one that was insatiable and downright mean at times, were all parts of him that you found terribly attractive. 

But the Isagi right in front of you right now? He was a different beast altogether. 

He noticed the way your trembling eyes were still drinking up the sinful sight in front of you, and the laugh he let out made your knees go weak. “You’re staring at me too. Don’t act so holy, dearest. I know you want to be good, but you’re just the same as me.”

“Don’t say that…,” you exhaled. You couldn’t deny him. Isagi had looked drop dead handsome earlier, dressed to the nines in an expensive suit and sparkling shoes, his staff working their magic at gelling up his hair and making him look like a model straight off a runway rather than your everyday boyfriend. Even you, who had gotten used to seeing all sides of Isagi at this point, found it hard to look him in the face and speak without your face heating up.

But this Isagi would put his earlier good boy image to shame. There was something about the way his suit was all disheveled, the tie hanging shamelessly from his throat and the collar of his white shirt thrown back to reveal his neck and the top of his chest. Even his tousled hair had you drooling, the still gelled parts begging for you to mess them up by burying your fingers into them. His lips were swollen from making out with you in such animalistic fashion, and his chest rose and fell with each deep breath he was taking. His pale cheeks were flushed a rose pink, and a kind of drunken stupor glazed over his eyes.

There was something so wrong yet so provocative about him looking this good yet run through in formal wear. The sight was bewitching you.

“You want me. Don’t lie. It’s written all over your face.” His mouth trailed down, his lips kissing across the shape of your jaw and attaching themselves to your neck. You held back a whimper as his mouth teased the sensitive skin. His teeth ghosted over your throat, and you wondered if he could make out your wildly pacing pulse from where he was.

You wrapped your arms carefully around his neck, pulling him closer to you. You clenched your eyes shut as the boy pressed seemingly innocent kisses all over your neck, collarbones, and face, almost like he was surveying your bare skin to see where he’d strike. You could feel whenever he was smirking into your skin, the striker becoming keenly observant of every little reaction you were giving him.

Your stomach turned as you heard another wave of loud voices and applause, and it appeared like the main event was starting to reach its peak. How long could you continue at this before someone would notice that Isagi had disappeared, and conveniently, so had you? You grabbed at the back of his suit, trying to tug at him, but Isagi ignored it.

“Quit thinking about other people,” he muttered. “Right now, all I want you to focus on is me, got it?”

“But we’ve been gone for so long… We have to make ourselves look presentable and go back, or else we’re gonna get in so much trouble…,” you protested. You squealed through gritted teeth when one of his hands trailed down to rub circles into your thighs, his grip on you heavy and loaded with implications.

“I said to quit thinking about everyone else.” Isagi could feel you shiver, and the sadistic streak in him purred at the thought of you so torn between being good to him or sticking to what you should be doing. “I don’t even want to think about going back there and having to share you with everyone else. I want to be the only one who can see you like this, all messed up… I want it obvious that you’re mine.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his dark words, his voice dragging up against your ears like velvet. You were fighting a losing battle, and with how scrambled up your thoughts were getting and how you were quivering like a newborn deer against your boyfriend’s muscled body, your mind and your heart were screaming two very different answers. Isagi wasn’t helping you one bit, already testing your limits and pushing you so close to the breaking point that all you wanted to do was forget the rest of the world and completely give in, just the way he wanted you to.

“My perfect baby…,” he whispered into your collarbones. You craned your neck slightly, giving him better access to your bare skin. Your shirt was yanked down to reveal more of yourself to him, and the strands clung feebly to your body. It wasn’t like the thread could offer you any protection against Isagi at this moment, and when Isagi nipped at your skin without any warning, you unconsciously jerked against his chest.

“Yoichi…!”

“You’re overthinking. I’m not asking you to make a hard decision. You’re already practically there.” His fingers traced the pattern of a small heart into your inner thigh, the sensation tingling as if it were a permanent mark. When you looked at him with eyes blown over with a desire that was threatening to consume you, barely able to resist him, Isagi couldn’t help but admire his handiwork.

This was how he liked you best. Completely at his mercy, a fool hopelessly in love, just like him. You were always so good to him, even when he was asking you to be the worst.

“Give in to me.” His teeth were ready to sink into your skin the moment you’d give the clear, to mark you up the way he wanted to and show off to the rest of the world that his love for you ran deeper than what everyone else thought. Your resolve was crumbling, and you were glad you had Isagi to cling to for support, even if it meant letting him wash everything else but him away from your line of sight.

You nodded weakly, your overwhelmed body begging for him. Being conservative would get you nowhere.

Isagi smiled like an angel, and the small chuckle he let out was all the confirmation you needed to know that you had gone past the point of no return. 

“I promise I’ll take good care of you, love.”

x

[starsfic]

Lamb has particular trouble with an exceptionally irritating and hard to kill purple feline heretic who keeps claiming that they’re the heretic and that someone called “the Prototype” will save them all.

"He's the god of sleep and nightmares."

"He- what." Lamb turned their gaze away from the heretic named CatNap (who was bothering Dogday again, seriously, why) at to their husband, yanking out weeds since Leshy was at the breeding tent with his new husband. They ran his words through their mind again. "What?"

"I thought Shamura killed him," Narinder said, tossing another weed as if he hadn't just dropped a bombshell.

"How?"

"By stabbing him through the head."

"No, uh, I thought all the old gods were dead," The Lamb had heard that war and strife had killed most of the old gods, but Shamura had their own hand in it. By the end, supposedly, only the children of the old gods, the ones who had escaped their sacrifice, were left. "How is the god of sleep and nightmares here?"

Narinder finally looked up, revealing a pensive expression. "I do not know. I was wondering if he was pulling a con, but this madness about worshipping another god makes me wonder if he's confused. Maybe when-" He rushed to his feet, yanking out the shovel. "Fuck, he's kidnapping Dogday."

"AGAIN?!"

[anonauthorsworkshop]

helloo, i stumbled upon ur mha x scp au and AHDSIHDSGISDGJ UR WRITING??? IS SO GOOD?? (also im new here hi, can i be 🎭 anon) more mha x scp au pls /nf tho

hii 🎭 anon :) i get a lot of requests for this au haha, sure!

previous part here

AU where MC is transported into the MHA universe with a SCP-summoning quirk. essentially a MHA and SCP crossover. you can read the rest of the parts under the tag #pp mha au

(note: i have never watched or read mha in my life and all of my knowledge is from fanfics and lazily googled questions! sorry in advance for any mischaracterizations or anything that just... doesn't make any sense? lol)

-

You lean forward, nearly falling off of your chair in the process. Squinting your eyes into narrow lines, you focus on one, crucial objective:

Trying to figure out what the hell is sitting right in front of you.

He looks like a cat, sort of. He reminds you of Josie, or, well, 529, with his feline-esque features and all.

Oh, you really should summon Josie here again sometime. It's been quite a while since you last have. That cat makes a good cuddle buddy. Even if she's missing the entire other half of her body.

You hum in thought, continuing to careen forward from your chair. No! This thing across from you is nothing like Josie. His ears look more like a bear, like 1048. Or could he be a dog? No, no... You've got it! He's definitely a rat!

Leaning back, you return to a proper sitting position and internally applaud yourself for finding the solution to your own ridiculous question. A rat, you think to yourself, face smug. Reminds me of a certain mask that drips black snot.

Wait a minute. The satisfied expression you adorn falters as you inspect the rat closer. What if it's not a rat, but a mouse?!

No, you're getting sidetracked! You take another bite of the banana you have graciously been given by your... captors? Do they count as captors if you willingly went with them?

The clearing of a throat. "Excuse me. If you could please answer the question..."

Oh, right. They're not really your 'captors,' just your interrogators, (that provide you with free food, might you add).

"What was the question again?" you ask, before not-so-elegantly stuffing the rest of the banana down your throat. You couldn't help but cave into your stomach's hunger; you haven't tasted this quality of fresh food in years! No more scavenging for meals or rummaging through garbage bins!

The man in uniform raises an inquiring eyebrow. You examine the badge attached to his right breast pocket: 'Detective Tsukauchi.'

He gestures to his side. "He asked you for your name."

Your eyes follow his hand's movements, and you find yourself gazing at the rat once more. "Oh, I wasn't paying attention." You admit shamelessly, grabbing another banana from the bowl placed before you. "I'm Y/N."

"Pleasure to meet you, Y/N." The rat smiles. You absentmindedly nod in response. "I'm Nezu, the principal of U.A. High. The man beside me is Detective Tsukauchi," you glance at the final stranger, "and this is Aizawa, a teacher at this school. He is also the one who found you. We would like to ask you some questions, as you are already aware."

"Sure," you comply, shoving another banana into your mouth. "I don't mind."

"How old are you?"

"Fifteen, I think."

"Who are your parents?"

You shrug, nonchalantly reaching for another banana. "Don't have any."

Nezu's grin widens slightly, and you watch him place a paw below his jaw. "Would you be comfortable telling us about what happened in that alley?"

Cocking your head to the side, you carefully peel off the banana's skin. "Which one?"

The detective speaks up. "The one you were found in."

Chewing another bite of your food, you tap a finger to your chin in thought. "Well, I was asleep until I heard a bunch of noise." Slowly, you turn to Nezu, replicating his ear-to-ear smile as you dramatically retell your experience.

"I looked up from my home, my beloved alleyway cardboard box, and saw two groups of people fighting. I decided to hide in my box until it was all over, but then one of them crashed into my home. They crumpled my box, and my hiding spot was revealed! The two groups started arguing about 'gang territory,' or whatever, and one of them decided to use me as a hostage and pointed a gun to my head."

You sink your teeth into your banana once more, oblivious to the horrified looks from every adult in the room.

"Oh, but it was fine," you casually continue, mouth half-full, "since, you know, I took care of it and all."

"When you say that you 'took care of it,'" the detective asks cautiously, "do you mean that you used your quirk?"

"My... quirk?" You scratch the back of your neck. "I guess it's my quirk? Don't know too much about 'quirks,' to be honest. I've never been to a doctor, or whatever specialist you go to for checking those out."

"Could you describe to us what it was that you exactly did?"

You gulp down the rest of your banana before replying. "You mean, in that alley? I summoned, or, like, conjured up one of those, uh." You pause, replacing 'SCPs' with another word to prevent further confusion. "Creatures? One of those creatures."

Tsukauchi looks you in the eye. "These creatures that you summon." You glance at the detective's hands, and you notice that they're trembling. "What do they do? What do they look like?"

"Usually I summon them to help and protect me." You explain with a shrug, "Oftentimes I encounter people who want to hurt me for some reason. There's a bunch of, er, 'creatures,' that I can summon, and they don't typically look like your perception of what's 'normal.'"

You continue, "There are endless possibilities, really. One looks like a teddy bear, just covered in human ears." Tsukauchi's eyes widen, as if his suspicions have been confirmed. "There's some that are long and bony. Some of them have these gigantic claws and razor-sharp mouths. Some of them are all gooey and acidic-"

"I believe that's enough." You turn to the side, taking a brief glimpse at Aizawa, who is standing beside you. Those were the only words he's spoken this entire time.

Turning back to the other two, you're about to grab another banana when you catch sight of the detective. You stare awkwardly, your hand paused mid-air. He seems to have completely spun on his heel to face away from you, hands clutching the wall as he gags and dry heaves. You scoot back in your chair uncomfortably.

"...And you do not have a home, correct?" Nezu stands up from his seat, approaching yours.

"Well, I did, but like I said, my cardboard box was destroyed because of those two rival gangs, or whoever they were."

"I see." He raises a paw so as to pet the top of your head. You clumsily bend down in your chair, allowing the two-foot-tall principal to reach your height. "We can arrange something for you. You may stay in a personal dorm here for free, if you would like." He smiles, "So long as you attend this school, the police force has also gladly agreed to erase your criminal record!"

You gawk at him. "C-criminal record?" Well, you guess you usually do end up leaving a mess of dead bodies behind, but it's always in self-defense!

"You should know it is illegal to use your quirk unlicensed and in public, Y/N."

Surveying the room, you dart your eyes from person to person. In the corner of the room, the detective, who is on the verge of vomiting up his insides. The man beside you, Aizawa, who refuses to look at you. The one standing in front of you, Nezu, who is blackmailing you, but is also offering you free shelter and free food...

You huff, grabbing Nezu's paw and shaking it wildly. "It's a deal, then."

[zedif-y]

it's fucked up how people can drift apart. it doesn't matter how much time you've spent together, how many times you promise each other it won't happen. if it happens, it happens. no way around it, because most times when the gap is wide enough to be noticed you've reached the point where you either don't know how to mend it, or worse, don't want to.

it doesn't matter what they meant to you. it doesn't matter if you spent most of your childhood days in their bedroom, playing house or playing video games on the family computer.

...it doesn't matter if they changed your life. nor does it matter if they saved it.

i have this friend in mind, as i'm writing this. we would call everyday over quarantine, spent nights laughing and losing sleep like teenagers are prone to do. they've got the kind of smile that could power a city, you know? the kind of laugh that put starlight to shame.

most importantly, most notably— they gave me my name. ryan, they called me. it started as a joke, it was only meant to tease.

i have loved it ever since.

i miss them, is what it comes down to. we've changed a lot. we still talk, on occasion, and they're still in my life. but the gap between us feels tangible, feels real and heavy and painful. i don't know how to fix it. god knows i've tried.

i wrote this because i realized i've nearly forgotten about that story. the roots of my name, where it came from, what it means to me.

(isn't that wild? how you can shape someone so much and just... forget?)

(and if i barely remembered it, does that mean that they've...)

...i think, in some way, it's comforting.

i can't always rely on my memory. my heart, as i grow, will develop a fondness for other people. pictures and trinkets can be lost or collect dust.

but my name will always be mine. even if it changes.

even when they've moved on.