#take the plunge and actually post something. hells knows what. but something.

[apocalypticdemon]

having one of those evenings where im looking for fic and nothing scratches the itch. how dare it be that nobody has written the specific relationships with the specific tropes i want in the way i want it written ://

[ladyofnegativity]

Heeeeey Tiny-! Okay so...

AHHDLRGSKSVDKVXSKSBRKRB. BITCH. WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT ACTUAL THE FUCK?!

How the hell did you make something so... SO-! ARGHHHHHH-! I CANT FIND THE WORDS-!!!

I'm blessed. SO FUCKING BLESSED.

THANK YOU. THANK YOU. THANK YOU-!

Okay okay okay. So! I'll try to do a deepdive on the newest installment of Human Effects.

BigBotNoStop: Alright mechs, I come bearing an inquiry. As you may have heard from some of my last posts, the newest additions to our crew are a thriving colony of soft, squishy humans. Word in the taproom is some have taken quite an interest in... extending cultural exchanges, if you catch my drift. Not really my field of experience and was hoping some of Xeno's here might have some input. 

Posted to Sublink: Human and cybertronian relationships?

But I'm curious, are interspecies acts even possible without harm? Their frames seem so fragile. One wrong motion and SPLAT! No more humans. quite a few members of our crew have shown interest in flirting... Thoughts? Suggestions for how to proceed with care- help a mech out!

(I don't know why, but this bot reminds me of Skids. I've been reading the other installments, and so far, my hunch on this is Skids.)

Blazemech: Yo! You got fleshies on your ship! Fragging jealousy!. Your ship is looking for any dock workers?

(Okay! So, from the context of what Blazemech wrote, I can tell that they aren't from the Lost Light. Perhaps a crew member from the Vis Vitalis, or some other ship? I don't know, but the name 'Blazemech' reminds me of FireStar(?), but judging from context, I don't think she'll want to work as a dock worker when she's second in command in the Vis Vitalis.)

TailOrTrails: Oh Primus, are we really having this discussion?? Look, I get the appeal of those soft little flesh bags. Really, I do - different wiring can be so freakin' hot. But there's no way a romp with one of those puny things ends well for them! Even accidentally bumping into a table puts them in the medbay. Think of the mess, One wrong thrust and you've got squish all over your plating.

(Riptide. Definitely Riptide. 'TailOrTrails' reminds me of a mech who has an aquatic themed alt mode, and we, Riptide turns into a boat. And from reading the other installments, Riptide acts hesitant yet intrigued.)

ISOCLEAN: Just download some holofacing and use your imagination if you're that jonesing for an organic interface. Trust me, it's not worth the risk - or hassle of cleaning up after. sure you can find something from the Human sites on Mechanophilia, slutty Show and shine or Car Washes. Stay shiny and keep those servos to yourself, mechs! Some curiosities are better left to fantasies.

(Honestly, I'm stumped with this one. I can't seem to find or remember someone who's a clean freak. Aside from Ultra Magnus, but then he wouldn't fit the mannerisms of ISOCLEAN. Fuck.)

Flyboi69: Don't leave a mech hanging, I want deets!, has anybot here actually gotten friendly with a fleshie before? I'm talking about hands-on experience. We've all gotten curious watching, but has the real thing lived up to the fantasy? 

(Tailgate??? I'm sorry, I REALLY don't know who this guy is. Could be Starscream, but it would fit with they way the text was worded.

I think it's Skywarp??? But then why would he be interested in humans???)

Pimptheride: Any tips for coaxing one into the berth, or does their tiny size mean you've got to take it slow and gentle? And most importantly... any videos out there of the deed? A mech's gotta do some, ah, research before taking the plunge. Hook a brother up if you've found any good amateur organic-on-mech action out there in the 'net. Gotta see it to believe it. 

(Haha! I read the name, and immediately thought of Knockout. Not because of the text or anything, but I just remembered that in Transformers: Prime, the animators decided to pimp out Knockout, hence the 'Pimptheride')

ScienceSorcerer: For reasons. Does anyone know if humans have both Spikes and Valves? Or if they have any human anatomy holos or books and such from Earth they are willing to sell for some decent Shanix.  

(Brainstorm. The mech that started it all. I'm betting everything that this is Brainstorm.)

T-Wrexz: Primus, you mechs are hungrier than fragging scraplets. As far as I know, relations between our kinds are still uncharted territory. Could be amazing, could end badly - who's to say until we try? Personally I'm keeping an optic out, just curious to see what new experiences those squishy aliens can offer us tough metal mechs. 

(Definitely Grimlock. The name gave it away.

I mean, do you know any other mech who has a T-Rex alt mode??? Yeeeeeah.

But what business does Grimlock have with humans??? To think that he'd be interested in humans in really funny to me.)

Bar-rizzla: Oho, look who's swapping tall tales. I've been keeping a close optic on our ships squishy company since they came aboard. And between you and me... I may have an in with their ambassador that could lead to some juicy first-hand intel. Just trying to track down the bot we think they are berthing with. Crews got bets out. Turns out they get just as curious about us big metal hunks as we are them!. The other night, their chat got particularly saucy after a few drinks. Lots of gossip and speculation about which lucky bot one of them might take for a private ride. 

(Easy pickings. This is Swerve. I know it is.)

WPHAS-Violation: I may have a certain special "human entertainment" vid I could share. Let's just say the organic in question got quite... friendly with an eager mini-con. You know where to find me if you're brave enough to watch! 

(I'm torn between giving this to Rewind or to Tapemix54. From context, I'd say WPHAS-Violation is from the Lost Light, but then what about Tapemix54??? Is Tapemix54 Soundwave???

👀 Who was this Minicon that got lucky... Hmmmmmm.)

Tapemix54: Oho, mechs - think you've got it bad now? You should've seen some of the real deviants back before the war. When I was still stationed on Petrex, I knew this one smuggler - went by the name Rattler. Sneaky little scraplet, but Primus if he didn't have the wildest stories. Rattler used to run goods across time and space, dodging security at every turn. He'd pop up out of nowhere selling the rarest exotic "pets" to rich senators and other high caste mechs looking for a thrill. I'm talking aliens so bizarre even our data banks had never heard of their kind. But the highest bidder always walked away with a new "plaything" to break in, if you catch my drift. Word was Rattler even had a collection of sentient organics that he'd let special clients "test drive" between runs. Humans were apparently a favourite - their smaller frames could take all sorts of creative handling. Rattler had vids, too, of course, to entice buyers. I saw one once, let's just say "versatile" doesn't begin to cover it. Naturally the vids have all been scrubbed by now. But I bet if you knew where to dig in the deep web or some easily swayable Archivist, you might find traces of Rattler's stash still floating around out there.

(Fuck. FUUUUUUCK. Now I'm thinking that this is Chromedome because he was stationed in Pretrex with Prowl when they were sent to investigate the assassination of Senator Sherma.

For all I care, Rattler could have been Swindle since... Y'know, he was trafficking humans. Though, now that I think about it, would Swindle even be old enough to do that??? FUUUUUUUUCK.)

"Old records saved of the Senator and his human Conjunx”

It's a file collection of holotapes and pictures: "Enjoy these are pre war photos of Senator Shockwave and his Human holding their sparkling" 

There are many holos and videos of the long gone senator smiling with his human perched on his shoulder, in the crystal garden with a young sparkling held in the human's arms. Videos of the sparkling playing with the two but the last The last holo looks like a family portrait with Shockwave’s frame in a lime green blue white paint with gold accessories,  his human lover is dressed in elegant robes and the small blue praxian sparkling held in their arms. Each holo is dated with the Iacon records seal of authentication. 

(Okay. Okay okay okay. I LOVE the fact that you decided to incorporate Laboratory Logs to Human Effects. Admittedly, I did not see that coming when I sent that ask. Smart move.

And uhhh... Now that a few mechs have seen the photos, wouldn't that mean that if they ever recognized a mech that looked a lot like Senator Shockwave's long lost sparkling, It'll further cement the fact that uhhhh.... Fuck. I think I lost the path.

Uhmmm... Think about it like this, when Ratchet sees the family photo and sees the little sparkling, wouldn't he recognize that it's Traxies?)

FlyBoi69: NO FREAKIN' WAY. Is this real?! *downloads files faster than Blurr* FRAG ME SIDEWAYS, I think I just popped a gasket! How in the PIT did you manage to dig up the holos of senator Shockwave, most of his speeches, debates and lectures were wiped. Where did you find this!

(Honestly though, I'm still not sure who this guy is. Could this be Misfire??? AHHHHHHH.

Who are you FlyBoi69?!)

Jackin0: of all mechs, with an actual human back in the Golden Age?!. I'm calling scrap on this being real. It's gotta be a flawless deepfake. By PRIMUS if true - to think ol' Shockers was living it up with a squishy. Maybe there's more to those Senatorial types than meets the optic...

(Jackie. Definitely Jackie. Ah! Sorry, I meant Wheeljack.

It's just cool to call him Jackie. ☺️)

T-Wrexz: Okay, I'll bite... but someone better explain to me RIGHT NOW how any of this computes! Last I checked, time travel and inter-species relationships were the stuff of erotic imagination, not legitimate pre-war archives. Tapemix, you better start talking. Where in the PIT did you source these files? How do we know they're authentic and not just an incredibly convincing parlour trick? Because if I'm gonna let these images ruin me, I wanna be ruined by the real deal! Spill it, mech. 

(I REALLY think this is Rewind. Cause Rewind likes to collect rare footage.)

Iacon-Records: Tapemix54 could i please request where you discovered these as i work with Iacon records and this here is history that needs to be preserved. I'm willing to talk with you through a contractor if you would be willing for us to add these back into the new hall of records. Cybertron has lost so much and to find something like this I ask that we find a way to preserve it.  

(Optimus. THIS IS OPTIMUS PRIME.

You can't get more Optimus than Iacon-Records.)

BigBotNoStop: Pit take me now... I think I may have to reassess everything I thought I knew about interface and partnerships. That human is holding a sparkling curled around them - frag if it isn't the most beautiful thing I've ever seen! If anything could make me believe in miracles, it's this! Tapemix, you glorious glitch - how can I ever repay such an enlightening gift?

(Okay. I'm getting more and more convinced that this is Skids.

On that note, I like to think that whoever managed to see the photos are going to think, 'I can have a sparkling with a human'.

Which is cool, but then a bummer if they found out that Tiny didn't actually carry Traxies but was instead adopted from a hotspot when he imprinted on Tiny.)

Tapemix54: These were filed only cycles after Shockwaves Emputra; they were added to the Iacon records by some Archivist under the title. 'I will Remember you for who you were'. This was right when the senate fell apart on the brink of the war. From my knowledge of information on Rattler he apparently had an outlier who he got to take them to different times since he was a shuttle made it easier to transport. That's from the  records that still exist at least. I'll take you up on that offer Iacon-records. 

(Okay. That mysterious archivist? Definitely Optimus.

...

But wasn't Optimus a police officer during that era??? Wasn't he working with Sentinel at that time???

And who's this mysterious shuttle??? Omega Supreme??? JDDKSJDLDHDKGKSGS.

And who's RATTLER?! So many questions and so little answers.)

Oh, and Tiny? I really want to thank you for humoring me. You have no idea how much help you've given.

And uhhh.... Yeah....

ACCEPT MY LOVE AND APPRECIATION.

꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡ TINY ♡⁠˖⁠꒰⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠⑅⁠꒱

[rayshippouuchiha]

Hi Ray,

It's me again, the person that has to write their own shipping content. You and the other lovely anon convinced me to actually do it. I just can't give up on the chance to become the captain of a barley floating piece of wood! I am currently looking into how too... well do the writing part of the whole thing. There is a little one shot that I have writen, but I do want to do a bigger adventure so I've been researching how plot and all of that stuff. I have no idea where to start with all the advice Google spit out, but it's kind of fun going out of my comfort zone and try/learning something new.

The biggest hurdle will be posting any of it, again I am extremely anxious (to the point that I didn't dare go outside my own home for a year... I know I probably should get therapy but that's hard when you aren't brave enough to go outside) so that will be... fun. But I am thinking that, if I actually get something down on paper, posting it might just be as satisfying as learning how to write in the first place.

What I came to say is thank you lovely void and anon, for giving me to little boost to my motivation, because even when I said in the first post that "I now have to write for it" that alone would probably not have been enough to actually get me to do it.

P.S. might I ask you and your fantastic community for advice how to post? I understand that most people probably don't have the same problems that I do but who knows maybe something of it helps?

Once again, thank you and I hope you all have a fantastic morning/day/evening/night! :)

Fuck yeah darling! I'm so glad you're taking the plunge!

And don't let yourself get too bogged down worrying about doing it Right. Just do what you want, what you enjoy. As cliche as it sounds, the best way to get better at writing is to write. If that means you do a dozen one-shots before you ever touch a chaptered work then that's fine! Hell you could even do a bunch of connected one-shots to take the pressure of a chaptered work off your shoulders.

Posting your work can be nerve-wracking, that's completely normal, most of us have been there and done that or even still feel nervous even after posting for years. I think that, for me at least, one thing that helps with the nerves is to remember is that at the end of the day you've written this for yourself.

[skaruresonic]

Actually, that post about Sonic not giving assholes the time of day has got me thinking about how people argue that Eggman must be a special exception to the rule somehow, or that Sonic is morally lax for "letting him go" or something. That he'd never do to Eggman what he did to the Erazor Djinn because of a supposed love for the platonic concept of freedom.

To which I'd now probably say, "Not yet." Or maybe, "We have already seen Sonic take this approach with Eggman, but because the scene was comedic in tone, it wasn't taken seriously."

White Space? Null Space? Equally terrifying places to be if you thought about it for a moment. No food. No water. (Rage Against the Machine voice) No shelter. Normal beings would have perished, but you see, Eggman is no ordinary being. Heaven doesn't want him and hell's afraid to take him.

Tbh, there probably is a point where Sonic would attempt to seal the deal once and for all, but if we ever saw it, it'd likely be the end of the series, considering how Eggman's the main antagonist and the show can't really go on without him. Though it's not for a lack of trying on Sonic's part.

Given that Sonic's general MO is "fuck around and find out," it's probably enough for him that Eggman so happens to disappear in an explosion.

The Erazor Djinn is qualitatively no different than Eggman. I think folks just get hung up on his and Sonic's beef and, you know, not the fact that Sonic so loathes the sight of Eggman that even a dude who suffers the mere misfortune of looking like Eggman earns his ire. Again, because the scene of Sonic barely saving Shahryahr from a lethal plunge was played for laughs, it's not taken as seriously.

If you counted all the times Sonic ignored Eggman's pleas for help/mercy or just straight-up abandoned him to his fiery karma, however, you'd see this pattern of ruthless negligence kind of isn't as antithetical to his character as it may seem. It's just that we saw it on most prominent display in SatSR.

[tryan-a-bex]

Writing patterns meme

Rules: Share the opening of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns!

From this post by @dancinbutterfly https://www.tumblr.com/dancinbutterfly/735744268412534784?source=share

I'll mull about patterns here because I put the last two after the cut due to warnings. So, about half of them start with dialogue, which is how I started writing--a lot of dialogue, minimal else things. The other half start by getting inside someone's head--internal dialogue, basically, so not that different I guess. Also I try to start with something funny or at least interesting, to hook the reader? I don't know if it works.

Endless Family Trick or Treating

“It’s not a sphere!” argued Dream, swinging his jack-o’-lantern trick-or-treat bucket against the leg of his vampire costume. “It is a sphere!” insisted Desire, twirling the tail of their demon costume in their hand again. “I learned it in school and it’s round like a ball so it’s a sphere.”

2. Velma Meets the Family

Velma stared at the gently lapping water of the river, leaning her elbows on the railing. The rest of the gang was fast asleep in their motel, but she hadn’t been able to sleep so she’d come outside to think. The water sounds were restful, but her mind refused to stop whirling. 

3. Freddy the Robot Vacuum

It was amazing what a person could get used to. Hob had enjoyed his first robot vacuum. It was nice, and not a very difficult adjustment, to get used to the vacuuming being done automatically for him while he was out. The little phone app notifications were cute, and he was only human so he anthropomorphized his vacuum, naming it Freddy. Getting used to the anthropomorphic personification of dreams hanging around in his flat… took a bit more time.

4. Life is but a Dream

Rose put her head down on the desk. Why? Why would the words come in the middle of the night, and never when she had her laptop out and on? She’d even tried writing her thoughts down, but found that she actually couldn’t make out her sleepy handwriting in the morning. She looked at the tumblr icon on her desktop, sighed, and got up to get a cup of tea instead. That would be a shorter distraction. Probably.

5. Death is not easy to cheat

Unity poured tea in both cups and sat down across from Rose, pushing the plate of cookies toward her. “How are you doing, dear? You look tired.” “Oh, Unity! It’s been so stressful lately! I can’t seem to think of the right words when I sit down to work on my novel, but then they keep me awake in the middle of the night, you know? And during the day Lyta is either freaking out about Daniel being with Uncle Morpheus and Hob, or freaking out about him being so white and growing up so fast.

6. Trials of a Shapeshifter in Love

“Lucienne has been working so hard lately,” Gault explained to the Dream King’s head cook. “I’d like to do something nice for her. I was thinking a surprise romantic dinner over candlelight in the library.” “Ah, yes, I think she would appreciate that very much.” They put their heads together to plan the meal when suddenly Gault heard a familiar voice from the hallway.  “So, what have you already tried?” Lucienne asked. “Hell, all the normal plunging and clawing didn’t fucking fix the goddamned blockage, and it’s a fucking hassle taking the whole damned drain apart all the way back into the fucking wall.” 

7. Naga No-Go

“Lucienne.” Lucienne’s head popped up from the book she was studying. Lord Morpheus’ summons sounded just a little bit more… strained than usual. She turned her head, using her raven senses to triangulate the direction of the summons. His chambers??? This… could not be good.

8. Which Witch (Okay I'm cheating here because this isn't published yet. but if you want more, let me know and I'll post it on ao3 or send you a link.)

“You can’t just come in here without a warrant.” The cantankerous old witch put her hands on her hips and stood squarely in the doorway. Eldie sighed and rubbed the shaved hair at the nape of her neck. “Please let me come in, ma’am. Your daughter hired me to clean and cook and help you out, and I can’t help if you don’t let me in.” “I don’t need help, you shameless hussy! Who does she think she is, that gossiping busy-body! I’m fine here by myself. You can go now!”

Okay, under the cut are mentions of spiders, and non-con body horror. (The fic is not bad, the backstory from canon is, and that's where I started.)

9. Arachnophilia (mentions of spiders)

Zelda stared down at the cafeteria mac and cheese on her plate. The only thing appetizing about the middle school cafeteria food was that her mother wasn’t glaring at her and criticizing how she did or didn’t eat it. Instead, everyone ignored her, tucked into a corner. She would feel hurt about being shunned if she had any desire at all to interact with the other children. She didn’t. She closed her eyes and shoved a forkful into her mouth, thinking about her science project to distract herself from the taste. Spider webs were actually incredibly strong for the size of the filament, and they came in such an extraordinary variety of shapes and sizes. She couldn’t wait to get back to the library for more research. She opened her eyes as she swallowed, scooping up more food and quickly scanning the room. 

10. The Order of the Knights of the Dreaming (the actual fic I wrote is pretty sweet without much actual violence, but Alice's backstory from InCryptids is intense, so skip this next paragraph if you don't like mentions of non-con and body horror)

Alice closed her eyes and felt her memories and skin being ripped from her once again. It hadn’t actually been like that. In real life, she hadn’t figured out her memories were being adjusted for years, and she’d undergone the flensing willingly. But once she learned that her mind had been altered without her knowledge and that removing her skin had not been necessary but was done for the profit of her “uncle,” well, the nightmares about being violated had been unceasing. 

If you made it this far, congratulations, consider yourself no-pressure tagged!

[inkyquince]

Patreon Post: Marking the Master (Seir- Inky OC)

content warning: Public Sex, Jealous Sex, Monster Sex

Demons never really had any reason to be jealous. They were royalty in their own realm, they were boundlessly powerful, and they got to explore the living world freely while usually being in a little body and being babied for being such a cute animal. They were far more well off than any other species, living or dead. So why was he himself being an ugly, jealous little beast right now?

He had enough self awareness to admit, yes, he was being a pissy horror right now, but it was your fault, so deal with it. Not to mention being thusly was a fun little treat at times. For him, of course.

But Saleos was making him grind his sharp little teeth. Watching the two of you from a secret little alcove (that you definitely did know about, and just indulged his more animalistic tendencies), he seethed. He scowled. He even glowered to the best of his ability while being an animal. Saleos had playfully wound his way around your neck, basically being one of the only living mink scarves in the world. Once upon a time, Seir would have admitted that he liked Saleos. Despite the other demon being in a higher position in life, being a Prince instead of Duke of hell, he had heard and met him enough times to… Not mind him. Maybe even share a drink with him.

Until now. Fuck Saleos. He should choke.

Should choke with his fangs deep in his scrawny little Mink neck, especially when the prince smoothly told you that he’d love to take you out to the opera house that night.

“Take them out.” Seir gave a nasty little snicker and the two of you glanced over. “You mean them carrying you around and needing to put you on top of the seats so you can actually see the performance.”

Saleos’ little beady red eyes blinked once, twice, thrice before they curled their lip, showing off their tiny, sharp teeth. Instead of answering, he slid down your arm and landed with a soft noise onto the pillow next to you, bouncing a bit on his pink little feet.

With a billow of white and black shadows, the mink disappeared. Saleos, in his human form, was sitting neat next to you, stroking back his thick, cream coloured hair and shot Seir a smug look. They knew they were struggling with getting to full human. They had just barely managed to get into their shadowy demon form without draining them too much, but they couldn’t even start to form human skin without getting a blinding headache.

And here Saleos was.

A gorgeous human man to everyone who sees them, your arm over his as Seir trotted behind you on the way to the opera. Resting their chin on your knee after you smuggled them into the box. All the while Saleos shot him a smirk every couple of minutes. Mocking him.

It all got too much. Seir finally gave an annoyed animal huff sound and made their way from your lap, to the floor and slipped out of the curtain, separating your box from the hallway. He had just made up his mind to go sulk underneath a nearby table when you emerged, looking around and looking absolutely delicious. He adored his master. He really did. But fuck, things got annoying whe-

“Seir?” You whispered, kneeling down to drag your fingertips along their chin.

They look up at you, with their cold eyes, feeling your warmth but also a deep yearning. They made their decision.

Seir inhaled slowly, and the lights in the hallway flickered and blinked out, plunging the two of you into darkness. You barely even started, used to Seir’s powers by now. What you weren’t used to, was hearing a strange sound, like leather being stretched before snapping back against bones, the strange hiss of something not of this world…

Nor, his eyes. Deep hungry eyes, with his scleras dyed a vivid purple, and his pupils… Deep, cat-like gashes that stared through you.

“He can charm  you with his pretty face on.” Seir whispered, a growl slipping into their usually smooth voice. “But only a monster like me can have you.”

Their clawed hand lashed out to grab your middle, fingers lengthening with crunching bone to almost completely reach across the entirety of your back. Their touch was hot, yet freezing. It scalded you with frigidness and froze you with heat. It felt right.

Seir refused to derobe you, but their claws tore and sliced through your clothes easily enough anyway. Licking their strange, burning tongue across your skin before ripping the cloth from your legs, sinking it deep into your hole. He wanted to mark you, make your insides accustomed to him and him alone. Nothing else would satisfy you, unless it was Seir’s.

You struggled to hold back your moans, cramming your fingers into your mouth as Seir tasted you, stretched you open. There was something thick and dripping squirming against your leg, right where their hips were. Hot.. Fleshy… Curling around your knee with a dripping head nudging at your skin. Even trying to think about it made you feel too close to cumming, the thought that Seir’s… Seir’s…

“It’s going into you.” Your familiar almost cackled, the wet sound of his fat tongue squirming in you nearly drowning him out. “I’m going to fuck my little master good.”

[stregasbookofshadows]

A message from the Clergy...

[[ It's been a million years since I posted any actual RP content here; one of my writing partners deleted almost all of her socials and the other has been writing in other universes instead.

I found an Etsy shop quite some time ago that was offering custom FO letters; I took the plunge and bought one earlier this year, and it was everything I could have asked for and then some. ]]

Dearest most divine Strega

Our secret letters do nothing more than encourage me to love you more than I already do. Right under Imperator's nose, it is a sin that I prize more highly than any other I have committed, and you know that I have committed so many.

You are my bride, regardless of what anybody would think or say. You are my salvation. Away from all of the pretence. The chat and patter I give on the stage, at sermons, and at Rituals that I would lust after everyone who caught my eye. You are my truth and my solace.

I remove my paint, and with it I remove everything that I am forced to be, my true face something only you seem to love and for that I am eternally grateful. Knowing that I am loved for who I am. Not what I am. Your love, your affection, your passion and your desire for me more real than any orgy or tryst I am forced to be involved in for the sake of the Ministry and for that, as I bury my face in your dark curls I am grateful for your love and your attention.

Nobody could know me like you, Strega. The way your hands cup my face makes my heart ache. Ache for the love I have always deserved. Ache for the affection that would be denied to me for the sake of keeping me 'theirs' if I allowed it.

You give me the freedom to be loved. You are the love I see and with you, I do not feel awkward, or goofy. You love me for the ways that I am and for that reason I am eternally grateful for Satan putting you in my path.

I know that moving you closer to my quarters has placed me at greater risk, my insistence to Sister that you are assisting me with many translations of older texts, to help us shape our further understanding of what Lucifer wishes us to do may only work for a short time, but knowing you are close by, and safe. And that I can slip into your chambers unnoticed, it makes this pedestal I have been placed on so much more bearable.

Strega, my love. Even if my time as Papa is short, and my life will be snuffed out for the sin of loving one, instead of fucking many. I will take that to hell with me as my crown, my darling.

I love you.

Eternally yours, for all time,

Papa Emeritus IV

[sweet-lost-husbands]

Caged - Chapter 1 - Medical whump - Whumper turned Caretaker - Omegaverse - Supernatural

Alright, we made it! So this is already posted on ao3 and its still continuing, I'm just writing each chap as I go so any ideas would be greatly appreciated!

{ Synopsis: Dean is sick and not like any omega the world has ever come across but Cas is willing to try and save his life. Only one problem: Dean is feisty and refuses to be helped, each treatment is torture. He fights and runs every chance he gets, hurting himself in the process. (:

Basically, Dean being sick and injured and Cas caring for him. Not consensually tho. Essentially just 'Forced Care'.} 

warnings: See masterlist for each chap warnings

Chap specific warnings: Forceful kidnapping, Non-consensual administration of drugs. Restraints. Needles.

Everything hurt.

Agony was all he knew.

It had been for a while now.

It felt as though his very insides were trying to twist their way through his flesh. Violent ripping sensations that spread to his entire body.

Often, he wondered if plunging a knife in there would dappen it somehow… If anything in this world could make it ease just for a moment.

He had long since got used to covering it up, even now, Dean faked a smile and continued to sip his coffee. It was one of his all-time favorite brands, a little more expensive than he could afford but worth it, nonetheless.

“I’m not lonely,” he said quietly, sitting at their dining table. Usually, he wouldn’t worry about Sam catching onto his pain, but today something was different.

“Yeah, I know.” Sam placed a plate of bacon in front of Dean and then took a seat himself. “It’s just that we haven’t seen Dad in weeks because of business, and I have late shifts in the hospital. None of us are ever really home except you. It’s not like you have a mate or… an alpha, despite your intense heats. The last one almost killed you.”

“No, it didn’t.” Dean shot back.

Sam gave him one of his many bitch faces. “Yes! It did. I was out working, and you told nobody how bad it was. I found you on the floor, writhing like you needed to get out of your skin yet nearly unconscious from the pain, with a fever that way surpassed the normal temp. Your lucky my friend Cas who is a head doctor at an omega stabilization facility had come home with me for drinks that night or you would have been toast.”

Dean brought a piece up to his mouth, ignoring what Sam had just said and savoring the smell before taking a bite. A stray drizzle of grease rushed down from the corner of his mouth. He quickly swallowed the bacon with another mouthful of coffee.

He turned his gaze back to his brother. Something wasn’t right.

“Sam? I thought you told me that you have morning shifts all week?”

“Uh, I do.”

Dean completely abandoned his food, narrowing his eyes on him. He swore he could see tears brimming in Sam’s eyes. Why was he sad?

The silence nudged Sam to continue.

“I took a day off. I need to be here for this.” The last part was barely a whisper. He waved it off. “Just eat your food Dean.”

Dean wasn’t one to let a plate of bacon get cold, so he started back at it. Each piece warmed his insides and made him feel cozy. God, he could live like this forever… he had everything he ever wanted. Sam, Baby, bacon, an actually decent apartment instead of a crappy hotel and hella good coffee—the essentials.

Across from him, Sam kept picking at his rabbit food, playing with it more than eating. It wasn’t like him, but it wasn’t unusual either. The thing that was unexpected though, were the sad smiles that kept flicking on his face every time he looked at Dean.

What the hell was going on? Did he accidentally scratch baby or something?

They finished up and Sam began to put away the plates. “I found something the other day. You know, I think you’d want to see this, Dean.”

“Sure.”

Sam returned, fiddling with his pocket before fishing out a picture and tossing it in Dean’s direction. He made sure he captured the smile that crossed Dean’s face.

He picked it up so carefully in his hands, running his eyes over every pixel with a sad fondness. “Me, you and Mum, at the beach... Your just a baby here.”

“Yeah..." Sam chuckled. "I was pretty small. I don't remember that day but Mom looks so happy in that one.”

Dean nodded in agreement, staring at the image for a while longer. He needed pictures like these… He remembered her vividly but sometimes he couldn’t figure out how certain features looked, her nose, her eyes, her smile, they got distorted in his head from time to time. It was a sweet image really, Mary holding little Sammy in her arms while Dean played in the waves just behind her. She held a smile that was so impossibly bright, it made Dean crumble as he looked. In fact, he was so focused on the image that he almost missed Sam checking his phone and his brother's face saddening further.

“Talk to me.” He comforted.

Before anything managed to leave Sam’s lips, he stood up from his seat and wandered over to Dean, pulling him in for a tight embrace.

They didn’t usually hug.

Sam’s voice was patchy as he spoke. “I’m so sorry, I hope that someday you’ll thank us.”

Dean shoved him off and levelled with him. His tone dropping lower and harsher than intended. “Cut the crap Sam, what’s going on?”

Just at that moment, the doorbell rang, and Sam jumped away, hiding his face from Dean. The room fell sickly silent, and yet it was so loud that it seemed to echo and bounce off the walls, only interrupted by the fleet of footsteps making their way in.

The first thing Dean noticed were the two bulky men dressed in white scrubs and how their faces resembled empathy but also a unique sternness. The next thing that drew his attention was a guy in a suit and trench coat, rather than the usual hospital attire. His eyebrows were creased at just the right angle to scream nothing but unyielding concern.

A foreign part of Dean found his presence slightly comforting but the rest cowered.

He knew what this meant. Where they came from.

He stood, his fists clenched at his sides and a burning feeling of rage bubbled up. He tried to hide it as best he could, but clearly not enough as the orderlies exchanged a glance.

The guy in the trench coat extended his hand. “My name is Dr Castiel Novak but you can call me Cas, it’s nice to formally meet you Dean.”

No, no no no nonono.

“Yeah, well forgive me if I don’t feel the same way.”

He could already see this playing out in his head, and he was NOT going to go. He wouldn’t allow himself to become some vegetable rotting in the Omega stabilization facility for all eternity.

This was exactly what Dad was trying to protect him from. Why he wasn’t allowed to be an omega in the first place.

He knew what happened to omegas in these facilities, how their autonomy was stolen away like a thief in the night, followed by gradual dehumanising treatments designed to get you to yield or break… but perhaps by the time you’d yield, you were already broken. Some part of you forever gone and unrecoverable. That was not the type of life he wanted.

He took a step back.

The bitch had the audacity to take a step closer, cocking his head to the side, acknowledging Dean’s distress, making it almost irresistible not to find a sense of trust in him, even if just from his eyes alone.

His voice was gravely but gentle, “I understand that you've been struggling lately, and we are worried about your well-being and physical health. The higher ups in Omega Care have reviewed your case and there is a warrant out for your stabilization. For your own safety, it has been declared that it would be best for you to receive care in a special omega trained facility.”

Dean took a few more steps backwards until his back pressed up against the wall. Fuck<.i>. He was cornered. His body betrayed him as it began to shake.

He could do it; he couldn’t go there.

His life would be ruined.

Before he had a chance to control his mouth, words shot out. “No! you can’t do that!”

“I’m afraid we can.” He neared again; it was suffocating. Suddenly the whole world was closing in on him. His hands waved around his chest in the universal language of not getting enough air.

Castiel took another step, but Dean screamed to stay away, flinging his arms about trying to control his breathing on his own. He was growing more desperate by the moment as everything sunk in.

“Sam?” He looked to his brother for help but was met with nothing. He was standing on the other side of the room, useless, tears flowing out of his eyes.

“I’m sorry Dean, but you need help.” He said in between wiping the water away. “I’ve seen how you refuse to be submissive even though it’s in your nature, how you refuse to get help during your heats, how dad forced you onto high dose suppressants at an early age and so now your body is all out of whack form being wrongly treated, this way you live, its unsustainable. It will kill you.”

“That- I can explain that, please don’t do this.” He could hear the blood pumping in his ears, he would have hit Sam had there not been orderlies in the room who would use it as another thing to lock him away for—to fix.

Dr. Novak held his hands out in front of him, the palms of his hands facing up, an open gesture to show that he had no ulterior motive. “I know this feels unfair, Dean, but we genuinely believe this is the best course of action for you. With proper care and treatment, you can find the stability you deserve.”

“How dare you.” He hissed towards Sam. He wanted to smash something—to just get away.

“Calm down.” One of the orderlies spoke with authority laced in his voice, trying to maintain a safe environment.

Dr. Novak held eye contact with him, his posture calm and collected like he wasn’t repelled by his anguish. “It’s understandable that you’re feeling betrayal at this time. but we’re here to help you, not punish you. Deep breaths okay, just like me.” He started to imitate the breaths as an example, hoping Dean would follow.

“Go fuck yourself.” Dean cried, pressing his back into the wall, wishing he would just sink into it.

But the Doctor continued, “We get that this is hard to accept but we have your best interests at heart. The facility can provide the specialized care and support you need.”

He had to get out of here. Now.

Dean's eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape route. His heart thundered in his chest, and a sense of urgency welled up inside him. He couldn’t go there, he needed freedom. He’d do anything for freedom.

The two orderlies, strong and composed, stood nearby, their eyes trained on Dean, prepared for any sudden movements.

Dr. Novak’s expression softened, but his resolve remained firm.

“Dean, just come with us, okay? Let us help you.”

“I will never let you help me!”

His head spun, nothing seemed reasonable anymore except for escape. It was his only option.

When their dad got sloppy drunk and left them for weeks on end to fend for themselves after their mother’s death, Dean had stayed because he had to. Sam still needed him. But now, nothing was keeping him here.

He lunged forward, but the orderlies reacted swiftly, grabbing hold of his arms to prevent him. He used every ounce of energy he had to struggle against their grip, his eyes wild with desperation.

“Easy, easy.” One of them grunted.

“Let me go! Pleaseee.”

The orderlies overpowered him, restraining him with gentle but firm strength and eventually his resistance wavered.

He wasn’t strong enough…. Well, that’s what they thought.

“We don’t want to hurt you, Dean, but we can’t allow you to endanger yourself. It’s for your own safety.

“You don't understand... nobody does. I just want to continue living my life.”

Sam spoke up from the back. “Don’t fight them Dean, it makes this harder on all of us.”

How dare he! How fucking dare he!

Dean knew what he was going to do when the time presented itself. So, he took one last glance at their house —at baby —at Sam, focused on the taste of bacon and coffee that still lingered on his tongue, so no matter how long he would be there for, he would remember all the things he loved.

Dr. Novak approached him with empathy, his voice filled with understanding. He took one of his hands and squeezed it, letting him know that he was not alone.

“It's not forever, just a step towards finding the freedom you're searching for.”

There was his opportunity. In a heartbeat, he shifted his weight and flung his elbow straight at Dr. Novak’s face. A small cry escaped the doctor's lips as he staggered backward. Dean turned, dodging the orderlies quick attempt to control him. They were trained —but he was trained better. He’d been taught to fight since the day he was born. His father had made sure of that.

He quickly gained leverage and punched one in the face then kicked the other in the stomach to release his arm. He didn’t need to think before he pelted for the door. Strong forceful hands found their way around his waist and jolted him away. Sam was holding him and goddamnit that kid refused to let go.

“Sam!” Dean screamed breathlessly. “If you don’t fricken let go, I’m gonna —”

His pants and struggles outweighed his words. He was freakishly aware of the orderlies gathering themselves and approaching. He had to do something now, but Sam wouldn’t give.

“Please!” A breath, nothing was happening, “Sam, if you let them take me, I can never forgive this.”

The sting of something sharp being stabbed into his shoulder made him hiss and throw his weight in a last attempt to get away.

He was too late.

“Sammy, please.” He cried, aware of how his body started to unwillingly weaken. “Don’t—” He felt himself go limp in his brothers’ arms; a stray tear rolled down his cheek. “Don’t let them take me.”

Dr. Novak's remorseful face despite the blood that flowed down from his nose, was the last thing Deean saw before his eyes forced themselves shut.

~

When he edged on consciousness once more, he started to hear voices around him and feel the sensations around his body. Something was pressing against his waist then the length of his legs, a second later it was pulled away. A persistent beeping faded in and then some voices.

“Good.”

Oh god, he recognised that voice—Castiel. That son of a bitch. He wanted to wrap his hands around that doctor and squeeze. Hard.

Dean tuned into the conversation. Perhaps it could offer some information he could use as leverage.

“Run the measurements up to the manufacturing sector, tell them I don’t care about costs, I just need the equipment mentioned in my previous email. Tell them that it must be the perfect quality and I needed it yesterday!”

“Yes, of course, Cas. I have also put the rest of Mr Winchesters team on standby, they will come within moments notice if you press the button.”

“Thanks Gabe.”

Dean could hear a set of footsteps fade then stop. The screeching of a heavy door as it was opened and then shut once more, not failing to miss the dreadful sound of it locking. His body betrayed him, he could feel as panic set in. He was completely trapped and without escape.

He hated that the beeping from the machine beside him immediately increased, which drew Castiel’s attention.

“Dean?” He could tell by the way Castiel had said it, that it was filled with worry and a hint of dread. That only made Dean so much more furious. He didn’t want to be pitied, he didn’t want to be looked down upon, he just wanted to go home.

A what-was-supposed-to-be comforting hand came to rest on his shoulder. White hot anger boiled up in Dean so fast that he shot his eyes opened and lunged. Firm restraints restricted his actions and to his dismay, no matter how much he struggled they didn’t give.

No no no no!

Cas took a step back, calm as he fucking aways was, that prick. “Dean! Dean, stop!”

Some weird feeling hinted on the surface, something about his commanding voice made the words linger on the tip of his head. But it was only slight, barely even noticeable and Dean was able to power through it and keep struggling.

Needed freedom…At any cost… … can’t be here… not a weak omega made to be bred.

Cas was quick to fasten all the restraints so now he could barely move and then throw himself on top, trying to halt Dean’s desperate movements with his weight.

Again, the strange feeling pulsed, too small to truly understand it but enough for him to recognise that something was different. Perhaps Cas’s body was kind of warm against his.

“Dean.” Castiel said firmly.

His head shifted back. No no no no no.

He struggled.

He wouldn’t give in; his father would be furious. He was a solider, he wasn’t allowed to be weak—to submit.

Cas spoke with urgency, boarding on the edge of begging. “You must stop. We are trying to lean away from giving you any drugs, but we will if we have to. You understand we cannot let you hurt yourself.”

Dean could barely make out the words behind the thick layer of hatred he had for him—this place.

He almost wanted to cry at the sound of a small crowd rushing in. From the little that he could see whilst struggling, they all looked like headless chickens. Some—most, found their way over and began to help hold him down. He hated it.

Must get away must get away mustgetaway

“Cas!” One man yelled in a heavy English accent. “What do you need?”

“Stop Dean, please.” But the man underneath him, never wavered his defence. “Goddamnit. Alright Ketch give him the sedative.”

There was uncertainty in the other man’s voice. “But Sir…”

Cas cut in, “I fucking know, but we are out of options here.” He paused as Ketch began to administer the sedative. “And you.” He pointed to a red-haired woman currently holding Dean's forearm down. “Tell Gabe to hurry the fuck up, I don’t think he'll survive another dose.”

Was that worry in his voice? Did he generally care? Fuck him!

They all eased off as Dean became limp once more.

Originally Omega Care wanted them to stay at a facility but once it was seen that Dean was much worse than previously thought, they allowed Cas to treat him at his own house as long as it was properly accommodated to Dean’s needs.

The house itself was spacious, the walls were an off-cream colour except one which was a faded green. Most of the floor was empty bar a couple of medical cabinets, draws, chairs and the bed Dean was in currently. The rest was going to be filled up with new medical machines which were tailor made to Dean’s measurements.

There was a widow overlooking the estate with a nice garden and pool, that maybe one day Dean could have the luxury of going in and a meeting room off to the side.

There was a one big door on one wall which was the exit and a stream of smaller doors on another. The first and last were bathrooms while every other was a bedroom for Dean’s new team of professionals. Cas’s room was in the middle and the biggest since he owned the place. It would be a nice place to stabilize the omega boy. Nicer than some facility.

A taller member of the team which held a badge with the name ‘Benny’ on it, spoke up from the crowd. “Poor mate doesn’t realise how badly he’s hurt and that by struggling he’s just making it worse.”

The all seemed to mumble in agreement.

Cas moved away and then turned to address all of them. “Before you all came here, you got the briefing on the patient.” Their eyes wondered over to Dean unconscious, looking far to pale and vulnerable and then back to him.

“But now I shall give you the more accurate and updated status of the patient.” They all seemed to know what that meant, that he was worse than previously thought.

Regardless, Cas continued: “Dean Winchester, aged 32, male, submissive omega. His father John Winchester was arrested earlier today for neglecting and abusing Dean in his early childhood and then throughout his life. It is estimated that he gave Dean a heavy dose of suppressants from an early age, which completely wrecked his system. Then possibly a ton of other meds in order to hide the damage that he had caused. There's also suspected brainwash, where Dean doesn’t think of himself as an omega and is severely sacred and hating towards alphas. A lot of stuff remains unknown about his case and history, so there could be many complications.”

Their faces had all saddened.

“It was the hospital who reported him to Omega Care after an almost fatal heat. The overall damage that has occurred throughout his life makes him not able to: react to Alpha commands, drop, be submissive—and in most instances, it even causes him distress and fear… Either way, as a result of this, the internal and irreversible damage to his body along with the fact that he hasn’t received any neutralizing alpha pheromones to counteract his overactive omega ones, his hormone levels are declining rapidly. It suspected that with a dialogises like this, he won’t last for more than two weeks and it’s our job to change that.”

Cas took a breath, hardly believing what he was going to say next.

“Usually the omega hormone 'Omedicstrone,' sits between 72-100 in a normal omega, anything below 50 his considered dangerous, well Dean’s is at 15. Its by far the worse case ever recorded. If we can’t get Dean to fall into submission and soon, his body will start failing him. Omegas are designed to be submissive—some more than others and by not, it can cause extensive harm.”

“Poor sod.” One guy muttered.

“Now this won’t be easy—hell he doesn’t even respond to anything that usual omegas respond to, but we are here to try to help him. Every single one of you is an Alpha so that’s a start, we’re hoping that will begin to revert his mind back to his natural state and give us hopefully a small chance for his defences to weaken. Now what we are going to have to do to him, is not going to be pretty and there’s a high chance he’ll even hate us for it, so if anyone wants to leave then the door is behind you.”

Nobody left.

And so, it was sorted, these were the people who were going to try to save Dean Winchester.

[elliewiltarwyn]

FFXIV Write 2023 | Prompt #20: Hamper

again, not really happy with it, but posting it just to post it :V

-985 words

----

She holds her breath, lays herself flat against the steel wall, and prays to… somebody, but it sure as hells isn’t the Emperor.

Thankfully, the guard walks straight past her chosen hiding place, grumbling something about rats getting too smart for their own damn good. The moment they’re around the corner, she peels herself away from the metal and darts to the door they were guarding. She pulls a hairpin free, bends it forcefully between her fingers, and quickly sets to work. She has less than a minute—if she’s lucky. It’s not going to take long for the guard to realize there was naught but a palm-sized jagged rock in the spot that had made the noise, and to realize they’ve fallen for one of the oldest tricks in the book.

Come on, please work just like you used to. Just how it used to go with Jullus…

She grits her teeth and shakes him free; she can’t afford distractions right now. And thankfully, the hairpin does, in fact, work just like it used to; a tiny click emanates from the door knob, and she pulls the pin free, pushes past the now-unlocked door, and quickly shuts and relocks it behind her. She presses her ear against the door, still as the grave, and waits, unbreathing and silent. When she counts out to thirty without hearing anything on the other side, she exhales and relaxes—as much as she can in a situation like this.

She scans the room, and then pulls out a pocket lamp to illuminate things when she realizes it’s too dark; it’s not terribly bright, but that likely works to her advantage right now. She casts her gaze down the row of crates shoved up against the wall, some of them labeled, others mysterious. Utilities. Tools. Machina Parts. Plumbing. Not quite what she’s looking for. She might have to examine the unlabeled crates, she realizes with a grimace. Who knows how long that could take. Who knows how much longer she has.

Luck is with her, though, and she strikes gold on the third crate she prises open. She breathes a sigh of relief and plunges her hand past the gloves and boots lying on the surface, extracting a pair of each from somewhere deep within, so that the crate’s contents seem undisturbed from a glance at the surface. She carefully places them on the floor behind her, silently replaces the crate’s lid—then moves on to the next one.

It takes a few minutes more than she hopes, but soon she’s assembled a pretty acceptable set of gear—gauntlets, greaves, breeches, breastplate, and helm—from this room of spare equipment, locked away in a corner of this warehouse. The final piece she takes, though, grants her a swell of satisfaction, and she smirks as she tests its weight and twirls it in hand. The sword is light, sharp, and independently powered, she confirms, switching it on and watching lines of light bloom to life along the length of the sword, the crossguard unfolding and setting into place above her grip. Just like she learned about. Hopefully it would stand up to its actual purpose.

She quickly dons each piece of the armor she’s gathered. The gauntlets click into place, the breeches zip up and fit comfortably. The greaves fold together and clasp tightly, and the breastplate clicks around her torso. Just as she hopes, once the breastplate is set, the power lines on each piece hum to life, received of their power source. She breathes a sigh of relief and carefully places the helm over her head as well. This is all experimental magitek, certainly not likely to meet Garlean military standards—but it should suffice for getting her out of here.

She’s certainly better-equipped now than the guard outside, who crumples easily before they can even shout once she yanks the door open and slams the sword’s pommel against the back of their neck.

Once she’s back outside, Maia exhales and slumps against the wall of the warehouse. The adrenaline is draining now, and she feels more exhausted than she ever has. But she can’t afford to stop now. The gear is definitely going to help, where she’s going: in comparison to an average Eorzean, she’s well-hampered when it comes to aetherial manipulation; the magitek should make up the difference. She hopes.

…Eorzea. I can’t believe I’m actually going to Eorzea. The menacing grimace of her father looms in her mind’s eye, though. She doesn’t have a choice—she can’t stay in Garlemald anymore.

Unfortunately, her task is only half-done. She tightens her lips, rests her hand on the hilt of her new sword, then stands and makes her way through the urban nighttime of Regio Urbanissima. There are train stations forbidden to the citizenry, she knows, south of the city borders. She also knows there are supply trains that travel far beyond Garlemald’s borders, and some of them even go to the southwest—to Eorzea—to ensure the military castra in their acquired territories are well-stocked. Hopefully, it won’t be too difficult to find one departing for a castrum that she recognizes from the references she had appropriated from her father’s notes.

Part of Maia still labors to believe this is happening, that her whole life has been uprooted, that she’s absconding from the only nation she’s ever known. Her heart aches as she remembers Jullus’s kind face, the laughs and cheers of his younger siblings; I can’t even say goodbye to them. That she’s choosing to place her trust in Eorzea, of all places, to treat her with that level of respect and love—unlikely, given the shine of her third eye in her forehead, or the experimental gear she now wears, or even her own name. 

But if Dad is going to disown and turn me in for sympathies for Eorzean savages, then I may as well throw in my lot with those very savages.

[mamamittens]

I've written about 8k for my Pokemon Violet fic as a treat and it's only just getting to Miraidon about to do the escort mission in the cave.

Oof

I'm literally restraining myself from playing ahead too far so I won't totally fucking lose what's supposed to happen so it's just after Arven's fight in the game when I stopped to write up to that point.

This... Is going to take a while lol

Still planning on catching up on my other fics, it's just getting enough down that I won't totally forget important shit... And it sparks the buzzy serotonin molecules ngl

But I'm not dropping anything or setting a hard fanfic in progress limit! I'd just like to have at least one or two knocked out before publicly posting a new one. Ideally no incomplete works, but I know that's sure as fuck not happening. Trying to force it just burns me out and there's too many to finish before I'm dead for writing. And the endings would be shitty.

I wonder, when I eventually post, is that something y'all would read here? It's a bit of a pain dual posting so I don't want to commit to it if it's not going to be read lol, especially since it's going to be... Very long lol

Uh, summary for context.

"All the Difference" is a fanfic about Feolette, the little sister of the Galar champion (Kladenet) who has moved with her mother to Paldea for school and to get away from the inevitable spotlight her brother's fame has brought. As well as emotionally distance herself from the incident that lead to the scarring of her face from a Corviknight attack.

As promised to her protective big brother, she swears she won't get into "world ending catastrophes, perilous pokemon battles, madmen with no chill, or weirdo rich people with no common sense".

It can't be that hard, can it?

(shockingly, it is.)

(Somehow, the hardest part is figuring out how to be friends with people, rather than the literal path to becoming a champion, fighting repurposed anti bullying gangs, fighting titan pokemon, Pokemon smear campaigns, angsty teens, or plunging into Area Zero to face the otherworldly dangers therein)

I won't be posting any chapters until at least one other fanfic (out of 10 ongoing) is complete. Preferably at least my last Undertale Fics (of which there is 3) but we'll see. So don't worry, this won't be for some time yet.

[internerdionality]

Can I ask if there is anything percolating in the Suffer a Sea Change series? That "pre-ship" tag is haunting me.

I am also equally haunted by the I'm Not Ready for Whatever This Is series. The impending poly situations. help.

Yes, you absolutely can, thank you for asking, and yes, there is! The latter will be out well before the former, but both are very much in the works.

I am kind of a classic case of ADD “takes on too many fics” kinda writer. Right now my top priorities/fics I feel driven to write are:

My winter exchange fic for the Sprizzy server (currently untitled, about halfway done, will be posted third week of January come hell or high water)

The next Stizzy installment for I’m Not Ready for Whatever This Is, which is going to be titled "Add a Flourish" (I was hoping for this next part to plunge into the SteddyHands but Stede wasn’t done wallowing in angst. Almost done, will be posted second or fourth week of January depending on how progress on the exchange fic goes)

Finishing Fuck it Through as a Crew (draft of the chapter is done but needs some heavy editing, also January)

Final chapter of Paid with Sighs and Rubies (about half done, aiming for late January/early February)

Always another chapter of my “Batman becomes a cat” fic, whenever I have time

Past that, things get hazier. I really want to get back to my Marvel time travel fix-it but I’ve been a bit blocked on the next chapter. I have a T4T4T modern GentleScribed that I keep meaning to finish but have barely touched since Season 2 came out. The next chapter of Burning Like Embers, Falling Tender is actually about half done but every chapter of that thing is a monster, now, so it still has a lot of writing before it'll be ready to post.

Annddd yes, the sequel to Soaked to the Skin, which is titled Cut to the Bone and explores Izzy and Lucius settling into Stede's crew and figuring out what Lucius being polyam actually means for them, while Ed wrestles with having lost Stede and Izzy! I have about 35K written for it, but most of that was drafted in late 2022 and very early 2023. I haven't had the motivation to work seriously on it for a while, I'm afraid, but I do really want to get back to it.

To be honest, I have some insecurities about it being not as good as Soaked to the Skin—I don't want to follow my baby with something that'll disappoint readers! But I'm hoping once I clear the decks from some of my top numbered priorities above (assuming they don't immediately get replaced with new plot bunnies, lol), I'll find the energy to focus on it again. I've had some beta readers go through the current in-progress chapters recently and they have been giving me some more hype about it!

(Although if it's the Ed/Izzy pre-ship tag that's haunting you, that plot thread isn't going to pick back up until the third — and final? maybe? unless I turn in into a quartet? — installment for that series, tentatively titled Struck to the Heart. Except for how, you know, his devotion to Ed is always driving Izzy's character and motivations. But they're not going to be in the same zip code at any point during Cut to the Bone. I'm so, so sorry. )

And then finally, down here in my purgatory, I have my "I swear I haven't abandoned you" fics like Unmoored (next chapter started, at least?), Dining is Pageantry, my three Good Omens WIPs, the sequel to Learning at the Foot of One of the Greats, the next chapter of What Do You Do With a Drunken Sailor (I swear I'm gonna finish that fic one day, I swear), Praying on the Height, and that Rizzy cannibalism fic I keep promising HopelessScribe I'll finish :D

And below that I have my graveyard fics that I haven't worked on in months but really do want to go back to one day—the DC/Slayerverse crossover, the insane Dragonriders of Pern OFMD AU, my winter piece (from last year, oy) for Dragonmuse's Leda House series, and all my poor abandoned SuperBat wips!

[voxomniaetnihil]

It's Deja Vu All Over Again...

Taking another shot at my blog.  Third time’s the charm, they say.

Back in 2009 the company I’d worked at for 13 years- Virgin Megastores- was shuttered when that sketchy Englishman decided he wanted to go to space… physically.   Finding myself with a whole lot of time on my hands I started catching up on my reading.  Working at the biggest retail store in the world garnered me a lot of exposure to all kinds of things I’d never even considered as well as introduced me to the internetz… and, of course, Amazon.  I did a lot of deep diving into Amazon’s reviews- back when they were really meant something- for my book recs so I decided to take the plunge myself, kind of a way of giving back. 

As a young, wide eyed innocent first time reviewer, I actually did pretty well with it.  Worked my way up the Amazon ranks into the Top 1000 and even became a Vine Voice!  And those Forums- damn, fam!  Candace Sams, Amos Lassen, Dougie Brimson, Sgt. Stargate, Carroll Bryant, Laurell Hamilton, Goodreads, Hacker Hunter, Kevin Weinberg, STGRB- those were the days!!!  I knew I was legit when Anne Rice singled me out and sicced her People of the Page on me.  Had no choice but to take it higher and start a blog- staking out my own corner of the internet.

My first, best page- Illuminite Caliginosus, a Spark of Light Within the Gloom- had a decent following, garnered some praise and a few write-ups.  Got noticed and met some interesting folks.  I was building my brand as a blogger/reviewer and everything was good.  Even had business cards and shit.

Then Wordpress Admin decided out of the blue that I was spamming because I’d posted a bunch of book promotions.  Nevermind the entire body of work that preceded it; a few days of promos and suddenly my site was gone- not even a warning that I’d done something wrong or even a chance to save my posts.  Years of blood, sweat, tears, laughs, reviews, links, drama, trolling…  Gone.  I was getting a little burned out anyways, but that just…

After I calmed down I took it as a sign and moved on.  Every so often I would get that itch and one day decided to try again.  But wasn’t really feeling it and it was a whole lotta nothing.  Felt kinda embarrassed by it, tbh.

Now I’m older, wiser and fired up to get back into the game.  Hell, Amazon even brought me back into their Vine program- if that ain’t mana from Heaven, I don’t know what is!

So, it’s on again.  Music, movies, books, politics, sports, random thoughts, jokes, food, beer- it’ll all be here for you.

Oh yeah- almost forgot.

Middle aged male.  Born in the sixties, lifelong resident of Brooklyn.  Black and Proud.  Ex-marine.  Aspiring author.  Digs all four major sports: Baseball- Mets.  Football- Cowboys.  Basketball- Lakers.  Hockey- Devils.  Ambient/New Age music is my shit.  Wagner opera fan.  Registered as Independent- because if you’ve been paying any kind of attention, we need more than two parties over here.

Thanks for stopping by.  Holla and I’ll holla back.

[theteasetwrites]

Fifty Kisses

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader ❧ Era: Season 9/10 (post time skip) ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mild swearing, just a tad bit suggestive ❧ Word Count: 2.6k

❧ Summary: It’s your man’s birthday, fiftieth, to be exact. As such, it’s imperative to participate in a few birthday traditions, including bestowing upon him fifty kisses, one for each year he’s been alive.

❧ A/N: A little birthday oneshot for our lord and savior Norman Reedus! And also for Daryl, since in my book it is also Daryl's birthday (until we get a definitive date, he's a Capricorn, baby). Oh, and yes, I know Norman is technically 53, but I'm just gonna say Daryl's turning 50 in this oneshot universe, okay? Okay. It works better for my purposes lmao (also not me realizing that Norman Reedus is almost exactly thirty years older than me, and that my parents are only three years older than him rip).

It all started back at the prison, when you asked him what his zodiac sign was.

“What the shit are you talkin’ about?” he had replied. “The hell is a zodiac sign?”

You rolled your eyes. “You know, it’s like a personality thing. You know what your zodiac sign is based on what day you were born on. It’s what constellation the sun was in on that day. So, what day were you born on?” It was, indeed, a clever way to get him to spill the beans about his birthday, so one day, when you had the ways and means, and the ability to more precisely keep track of the days, you could celebrate it.

“Uh, January,” he said. “Let’s get back to work.” He held up his stake and plunged it into the walker’s head as it banged against the other side of the chain link fence.

“What day?” you asked as you joined him in taking out a few more walkers.

He looked at you incredulously. “You’re just tryin’ to find out my birthday. It ain’t gonna happen, (Y/N).”

You gave him an exaggerated pouty face. “Oh, come on, Daryl! What else are friends for besides getting each other birthday presents, huh? Come on, what day were you born? Besides, I have to know if you’re a Capricorn or an Aquarius. It makes all the difference, you know.”

He scoffed. “Fine, just don’t make a big deal out of it… January sixth.”

You beamed at him, trying to ignore the squelching sound of the metal stake lodging itself into the rotten flesh of a walker. “Aw, you’re a Capricorn! You know, that actually makes a lot of sense. You’re so… practical, and serious. And you work so hard.”

He rubbed his face with his gloved hand to try to hide the obvious reddening of his cheeks. “Yeah, sure,” he said.

“What month do you think we’re in? June? Whenever I get my hands on a calendar, I’m going to start keeping track of the days until January. How old are you going to be?”

He wiped the sweat off of his forehead and huffed. “Don’t ya ever stop talkin’?” Of course, he loved the sound of your voice, and didn’t want you to ever stop talking, but he also really didn’t want to think about the fact that he was going to be turning another year older in about six months. He always hated his birthdays.

“No,” you said. “How old? I won’t judge.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, though nearly broke out into a grin just from how adorable you were, with your blood-covered denim overalls and your huge, dorky safety goggles you wore to keep the walker guts out of your eyes. Maybe someday he’d work up the courage to tell you just how special he thought you were, but he couldn’t now. At least, not while you both had the rather unromantic task of caving in walkers’ heads at the fence.

“Forty,” he said.

Your eyes widened. “Oh, Daryl! That’s amazing! We have to have a celebration or something. What do you want for your birthday?”

“Want ya to focus on killin’ these walkers, (Y/N). My birthday ain’t that important.”

“Of course it is, Daryl,” you said. “Now that we’re safe here, we can appreciate all you do for us. Everyone deserves that, especially you.”

That January, however, wasn’t spent at the prison, but in a settlement called Alexandria, at war with a group called the Saviors. Nothing at that time was settled, and Daryl’s birthday went by without a second thought, though you secretly kept track, and snuck him a small note on January sixth that year.

It simply read: Happy fortieth, Daryl. I love you.

A bit blunt, but it was what you felt, and Daryl found himself pouring over that note for months afterwards, not mentioning it to you until he was alone with you, and somehow, from that moment on, it was agreed—you loved each other, and nothing was the same between you after that.

Ten years later, you still loved him, and he still loved you, and you were still trying to get him to celebrate his birthday.

This year was a big one: fifty. You couldn’t believe Daryl was turning fifty, since he hardly even looked forty, and he was so vibrant and youthful to you. At least, when he wasn’t acting so serious, which was quite rare. Though he didn’t think your little astrology book had any truth to it, you wholeheartedly believed Daryl was the epitome of a Capricorn, and this year, you were intent on making the stereotypically stoic sea-goat happy about making it another year around the sun.

The morning started with a birthday tradition—bringing Daryl breakfast in bed.

You trotted carefully across the bedroom, with a tray of pancakes drenched in syrup and butter, and a side of crispy bacon to balance out the sweetness. A glass of orange juice completed the meal, along with a small bowl of strawberries (cut meticulously into the shapes of hearts, no less).

“Wakey, wakey,” you said sweetly as you placed the tray on the nightstand, and then proceeded to brush Daryl’s hair back from his face as he lay on his side.

He let out a deep, vibrating grumble and flipped himself over so his face was immersed in his pillow. Frowning, you rubbed his bare back, patting it a few times.

“Don’t tell me the birthday boy’s grumpy,” you said, to which he made another grumble.

“Ain’t my birthday,” he said, which he said every year. The whole conversation was basically a carbon copy of last year, and the year before that, and the year before that… “No birthdays in the apocalypse.”

“Yes there are,” you said with your hands on your hips. “If you don’t turn your stubborn ass around, you’re not getting your birthday kisses.”

Another tradition, one Daryl actually looked forward to the most, besides the birthday sex, was the birthday kisses. Every year on Daryl’s birthday after you got together, you gave him as many kisses as years he was turning, usually on every square inch of his face and neck. You had heard some people did spankings instead of kisses, but you couldn’t quite see Daryl enjoying you spanking him.

He groaned and slowly flipped himself over, blinking his eyes sleepily and yawning. “Come ‘ere,” he said.

Peeling off your housecoat and kicking off your slippers, you raised yourself onto the bed and straddled his lap before leaning down to begin your pecking.

He held you there by your waist, and smiled against your first kiss. “One,” you said. “Two.” Another on his cheek. “Three,” and so on…

As usual, by the time you got to about thirty, his tough exterior began to wither away, betrayed by a wide, toothy grin and a boyish laugh, a side of Daryl seldom seen by anyone, besides you.

You took an exaggerated deep breath before bestowing the final fiftieth kiss on his lips, as usual, with this one being much longer and more intimate. He returned your kiss eagerly, running his warm hands up and down your back and attempting to pull down the straps of your nightgown, a gesture which caused you to pull away and smirk at him teasingly.

“Not yet, bad birthday boy,” you said. “You have to open your other presents first.”

He rolled his eyes. “What other presents? Can’t I just have my girl?” He ran his hands down and squeezed your butt, eliciting a half-hearted yelp from you.

“Stop it!” you cried. “This isn’t like you at all. You’re supposed to be a serious, responsible Capricorn. If you keep acting out I’ll try to figure out your birth chart again.”

“No,” he quickly said. “Jus’ get the presents.”

Daryl knew the drill by now—breakfast in bed, birthday kisses, presents, and then (usually) sex. Since it was always snowing on Daryl’s birthday, there typically wasn’t much to do around Alexandria that day, and everyone who didn’t have watch duty was expected to stay inside where it was warm. Due to your insistence that Daryl stay home on his birthdays, he never went on watch, so he was relegated to staying inside, or maybe going for a snowy stroll with you if the conditions weren’t too inclement.

The whole situation was lucky for you, since you liked to spoil him on his birthdays, trying to constantly outdo yourself each year with your presents, and Daryl didn’t mind it either, even if he pretended like he wished he could be doing something more useful (“typical Capricorn,” you’d say).

Daryl scarfed down a third of his breakfast before you brought all of his presents into the bedroom from the hall closet, where you were keeping them until he could open them.

This year, you had several medium sized boxes adorned in birthday-themed wrapping paper, and one with handmade paper with the scrawl HAPPY BIRTHDAY UNCLE DARYL in multi-colored crayon (a present from the children of Alexandria, of course).

You set them all down at his feet on the bed as he ate. He paused mid-bite with wide eyes when he saw everything piled up. It was the biggest bunch of presents he’d ever received. “This all for me?” he asked, as if ashamed of how many things he was getting.

You laughed as you sat down next to him on the bed. “Of course!” You kissed his forehead, then took a piece of bacon from his plate for yourself. “You deserve it. Open the one from the kids first.” You handed him the clumsily wrapped box, and he ripped it open just as Dog was leaping onto the bed and trying to eat the remainder of his breakfast (another birthday tradition).

“Dog!” you yelled as you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him away before he could lick the plate clean. “Bad boy!”

Daryl shook his head with a smile as you restrained Dog, and continued opening his gift. It was a small clay sculpture of Daryl, or what could be assumed to be Daryl, holding his crossbow, with Dog by his side. It was painted crudely, presumably by several pairs of hands as they each took turns painting different parts of him. You watched his face light up as he turned the little “action figure” in his hands and laughed.

“It’s me,” he said with an amused grin. “They got Dog, too.”

“And your vest and your bow.” You pointed to the little angel-winged garment and the clay weapon in the figure’s hands. “They said they want you to put him on the mantle in our living room.”

“I will,” he said with a nod, and carefully placed the figurine on the nightstand.

You handed him the next several presents, each of which alternated between practical and personal, with a new pair of work boots and a scrapbook of photographs you’d taken with him throughout the year, to name a few.

By the time he was done, there was a look of blissful exhaustion on his face, and he shook his head at you as he pet Dog. “Why’d ya get me all that stuff?” he asked. “Don’t gotta go out on runs for me.”

Here we go, you thought. Another year, another round of Daryl worrying that you got yourself hurt going out to get things for him on secret runs. You always found it rather funny, since if the world was normal, he’d be worrying that you spent too much money on him. In this world, however, there wasn’t any money to speak of, just the risk of dying whenever you left the safety of Alexandria’s walls.

You scooted closer to him and rested your head on his shoulder, causing Dog to scurry away and lay down at the foot of the bed, where he usually slept when both of you were in bed. “Daryl, it was nothing. Besides, you deserve it, after all you’ve done for me, for everyone.”

He lowered his head in humility. “Nah,” he said. “You done a lot more for me than I could ever do.”

You brushed a few long strands of brown hair back behind his ear. “Why do you say that?”

He shrugged. “‘Cause I don’t think I’d be alive without ya.”

“Don’t say that,” you said. “You’ve saved my life plenty more times than I’ve saved yours.”

“Not like that,” he said. “You… keep me alive. Give me a reason, ya know?”

You closed your eyes and smiled as you snuggled closer to him. He always knew how to sweet talk you, even if he didn’t necessarily do it on purpose. He was just so naturally kind like that. “Oh, Daryl,” you hummed. “You keep me alive, too… you dirty old man.”

He nudged you in the side half-heartedly. “Shut up,” he said with a laugh. “I’m here barin’ my damn soul to ya and you call me a dirty old man. You’re cruel, woman.”

You raised your head and nudged your nose against his, to which he smiled sweetly at you. “I’m just teasing you. So, what was your favorite gift?”

Another tradition: you would ask what Daryl’s favorite gift was, and he’d always say the same thing.

“Your kisses.”

You rolled your eyes, as you always did. “You’re so predictable, you know that?”

In a more unpredictable move, he grabbed you by the waist and used all of his strength to move you on top of him, not without straining himself quite a bit. Maybe he really was becoming an old man, but he’d be damned if he couldn’t still at least try to sweep you off your feet.

“Ain’t that jus’ like a Capricorn, sunshine?” he asked, running his hands up to meet the straps of your nightgown and pulling them down to reveal your breasts.

You smiled and shook your head. “I suppose,” you said.

He tilted his head as he studied your face, the intricate and unique topography of which he had come to know and love so well, every pore and blemish and scar that had told the story of your life in this strange time you had spent with him. He always looked at you with nothing but love, but today he seemed to appreciate those fifty years he’d spent on Earth much more than usual, as if getting to that ripe age had been rewarded with the greatest present his experienced mind could conjure up: you.

There wasn’t any doubt in his mind then. He was very glad to be alive, to have been able to see this beautiful January morning, and to spend it with the person who cared most about him, and the person who could make him genuinely, wholeheartedly smile.

“I love you,” he said. “You make me wanna get old.”

You laughed. “Oh, really? How old?”

He closed one eye and quirked his lip as he broke into his thinking face. “Hell, till I’m a hundred. Long as I got you.”

“Whoa,” you said. “I’m not sure I can handle you at a hundred, mister. I’d have to give you fifty more kisses.”

He pulled you down by your arms and pressed his lips to yours, kissing you with a sudden passion and intimacy that surprised even himself. Truly, this year was different—Daryl was happy to be turning a year older for once, all because aging with you made it so much more tolerable.

“Better start practicin’, hon.”

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

[hwanchaesong]

Huiii!!! :))) I really have so many ideas for u but I’m sure you have so much but this has been sneaking up into my head lately but could you write something about Gamer Yunho !! 🧎🏽‍♀️ something about that side of him really turns me on. 🤦🏽‍♀️

a/n: i am so mad right now bc i cannot find a gamer!yunho pic 😭 he should really post some of it, cuz we all know how that would break us all 🙈

Okay imagine this...

Jeong Yunho sitting on the carpeted floor, crossed leg, slightly hunched over while his eyes are completely focused on the large tv screen.

He's wearing an oversized shirt, loosely hanging over his lean figure that had his collar bones showing (don't we all wish to bite that, no?). Jersey shorts that are showing a good amount of his thigh skin.

We all love pain, do we?

Watching him knot his brows, squint his eyes and bite his lips unconsciously is undeniably hot.

So what do you do?

Approach him. Seduce him. Get him all hot and bothered that he won't be able to deny you.

"Yunho, baby." you tried catching his attention to no avail, so you gave it a shot once more, but when he really can't take his eyes off the monitor, you have to go beyond greater lengths.

Thus, you stood up from the sofa, standing right in his peripheral vision.

And what did you do?

"Gosh, it's so hot." you mused, haphazardly removing your t-shirt and throwing it on the floor, that certainly caught Yunho's attention. His eyes widening at your display of skin, pupils roaming to your exposed backside.

"Oh no." you feigned a gasp, "Now it's cold."

You picked up one of Yunho's hoodie that was plainly lying there, making sure to pop your ass out for him to see.

Your boldness to entice him worked, the game forgotten and the controller he's holding is slowly moving out of his grasp.

Looks like he would be busy with something else.

When you wore his large hoodie, you were suddenly trapped between the wall and a body. His presence looming over you, darkened orbs glinting as if to say, "You just made the worst mistake of your life."

"What do you think you're doing?" he whispered, his face inching towards your own.

"Can't you see?" you challenged, "I wanted some relief."

That's it. The tipping point for Yunho's sanity and rationality.

You wanted relief, he'll give it to you in many, unique ways.

First, he'll kiss the heck out of you. Second, he'll lick every nook and cranny of your body. Third, fuck the hell out of you.

For real tho, he'll tell you to approach him straightforwardly if you need anything, even if he's playing.

So onwards, whenever he's in his gamer mode, you make sure to sit in between his thicc thighs. Snuggling into his warm chest and watching him play until you get bored and start your own filthy game.

There would be many instances into this, and some of them would be:

Scenario 1:

It always amazed you how his character can do all those complicated steps, then you realize that all of those lies on your boyfriend's skillful fingers that are pushing all the buttons.

It'll make you wonder, what kind of things would those fingers do?

To test it out, you tapped his hand and he immediately paused his game.

"What is it baby?"

"Will you please push my buttons too?"

Your doe eyes and begging tone would snap him so fast that he'll quickly remove your clothing. His digits run from your face, to the valley of your breasts, until it reaches your aching core.

No seconds were wasted as he plunges his fingers in without any hesitation. His pace is monstrous, stilling and curling inside your walls to reach the spot that will sent you to heaven.

Oh, and we should mention the way he fondles your boobs. Gentle to rough, tweaking your nipples and pinches it just enough to elicit a jolt out of your nerves.

And of course, choking.

His gorgeous, humongous hands cut the air through your lungs so right that it heightens your excitement and pleasure without actually hurting you.

He truly knows the creativity he can do with his own hands.

Scenario 2:

He can get angry and frustrated with his games sometimes. Especially when his teammates are idiots or when he's in a losing streak.

You have always wished to help him out, relieve his stress, and get all the negative curses and groans into something positive.

Thus, crawl behind him, massage his shoulders, leave feathery kisses and nibbles all over his neck and he'll be putty in your hands.

The solution you had in mind? Give him a blowjob of course.

"Fucking shit, baby, that feels so good."

The loud moan that he let out was music to your ears, this was what you were waiting for.

You continued to suck him in, your tongue going all over his dick's skin and occasionally licking over the tip like a lollipop. Massaging his balls would also be nice.

The one thing that'll make him cum though? Just make eye contact with him throughout the activity and hum, the vibrations will literally raise goosebumps all over his skin and gosh, it's always much better than the vibrations from his speakers.

Be good to him, and he'll make sure to treat you into something much better.

Scenario 3:

Your favorite among all games, one where patience is tested.

Cockwarming.

No, because he is in a competition with his friends. But really, a stupid bet won't hinder your horny asses.

Still, he needs to win this so he won't pay shit.

So to solve the problem, enter and park. (meaning you'll be on top of him with his shaft inside but you have to stay completely still, riding would come at the right time)

His thick and enormous length is stretching you out so well, you have to behave yet you couldn't help the grinding for some friction from time to time.

Okay, Yunho had enough of your bullshit.

He temporarily focused at you, his hand gripping your head a bit so you'll be able to crane your neck and look at him.

"If you can't stay motionless, even for a god damn thirty minutes, I won't do shit about it but,"

You gulped, giddiness coursing through your whole being at his impending instruction.

"Do the work yourself. Stay muted unless you wanted to give my friends an audio show."

He smirked when he saw your expression, such a slut that you're getting all excited over his idea. And he fucking loves it.

"What are you waiting for then? Bounce, baby."

[xxlost-cityxx]

ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS

Ship/Characters: Top!Kirishima Eijirou, Bottom!Bakugou Katsuki

TW/CW: camming(Bakugou's a camboy), rough anal sex, anal fingering, choking, spanking, begging, crying, overstimulation, praising, degrading, enthusiastic consent

Summary: Bakugou's famous for being in the top 3 best doms for a camboy porn site, but as he tries to out rank an up and rising couple, his fans get to see the moment he realises he's a submissive bottom

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Katsuk has been a camboy for a little over 2 years now, starting right off the bat once he graduated high school. As he was 18 and living on his own and with a low paying job, he quickly realized he needed another source of income to live even slightly comfortably in today's world. Then came a random ad that just so happened to catch his eye, a porn site catching a lot of popularity, a few cam stars seeming to live a life of luxury from simply filming themselves for anyone to see. 

Katsuki had to try it out. 

He's had his fair share of horny old men groping him out in public, so why not get paid for them to watch him instead? 

That plan was one of his best ideas yet. He rose to fame so quickly he choked on water after posting his 4th video ever, seeing that his rough, aggressive attitude turned a lot of people on. A lot meant 14,000 at the time. A month into camming and he was making over 54,000 yen a week! And now, with nearly 500,000 perverts at his mercy, it was much more. He started live streaming last year, and it went amazing. Until a new couple joined the camming business. Suddenly 'loving boyfriend rails his curvy brown haired slut' was all anyone wanted to see. This broccoli headed bitch stole half the damn site from almost every other cammer out there! 

So there was only one thing Katsuki could do now. 

He had to fuck someone on one of his streams. 

He blew up the first time he fucked a flesh light, degrading the inanimate object like no tomorrow, easily being labeled one of the best doms out there. So the only way to get back on top was to dom a real person. 

But he wasn't going to fuck one of his weird ass fans, god no. He needed to find someone close to him who would keep their mouth shut. 

After brainstorming and browsing the most popular porn categories, he got an idea. The best way to narrow down his options for what type of person he'd need is by his audience. He quickly went to his profile insights, his eyes narrowing as over 60% were females. He quickly smirked, easily going back to the most popular categories and filtering out what he didn't want to do and what his audience wouldn't be into. And the one that came out ontop, was gay shit. Katsuki was going to dom a guy. And if it meant coming out on top over all the useless cammers, he'd fuck the shit out of a twink. 

"Sorry man, I would've considered it back when we first graduated, but Hitoshi and Kyo would rather stab you than let me take your dick up my ass." Denki said, casually sighing and taking a sip of his coffee. The elders around the coffee shop gasped, giving nasty side eyes which Katsuki couldn't care less about. "What!?" He nearly shouted, Sero and Mina covering their mouths to prevent any laughter from coming out to the point their faces were turning red. 

"Why not ask Sero-" "-Oh hell no! I'm not letting Katsudon fuck me on camera!" Sero shouted, ignoring Bakugou's glare from calling him Katsudon. 

"You really need to fuck a guy for this? Why not stick to your usual content? No.2 is better than much else, right?" "Hell no! I'm the best and I'm going to prove I'm the fuckin' best! Denki's the only twink I know, so help me find another!" Katsuki yelled, a few families being rushed out of the shop. 

After going through everyone that fit Bakugou's qualifications. They had nothing. Bakugou was ready to tear someone's head off at this point. After doing so much research, he didn't have the final piece. 

"Hey Mina, you're a chick. What do you suggest 'suki do?" Denki sighed, folding in on himself. "I mean, we do love our gay shit man." He said in an inhale. "But why not get fucked instead? We know way more doms than we do twinks." She said, tilting her head. "Oh- Hell no!" Bakugou shouted, Sero wincing. "I'm the best fuckin' dom on this shitting porno site and I'm going to prove it!" "Sounds like a bratty bottom to me." Sero mumbled. 

After more shouting and arguing. Kirishima finally arrived. "Sorry, my last client had a lot of knots in their back and thighs! Took a lot longer than I expected." He said with his happy smile, still wearing his scrubs and smelling like coconut oil. "Eiji~! Gimme a deep tissue massage!" Denki whined, rushing over and jumping face first into the bed. "He just gave massages all day dude, give him a break.." Sero mumbled, shaking his head. 

And it was like a light bulb. His brain flashing to massage porn intro's being in the top 100 categories. "Kirishim!" Bakugou shouted firmly, standing up straight. Kiri froze, slowly turning to look at him with fearful eyes. "Y-Yes…?" "Let me fuck you for my cam stream." And it went dead silent. 

And that's how they're here. Setting up the ring lights, almond oil on the shelves and a small white towel for Bakugou to cover his ass with. The plan was that Eijirou would get handsy during the massage and Katsuki would turn around and start domming him. Kirishima is bigger than Bakugou in the height and muscle department, but that was only going to make the plot better. Eijrou definitely wasn't telling him something. After hesitating to agree in the first place, and only after Bakugou promised a share of the money, Kirishima was just so...unnatural at this situation, his movements starting off as more dominating until he took it down to a submissive level.   

Katsuki started the live, giving his quickly joining fans a cocky smirk before standing up, walking back and laying down on the black table. 

The comments were filled with surprise and questions as to who the red haired hulk was beside the table, but they went unanswered. 

Kirishima grabbed the bottle of almond oil, pouring some into his hands and quickly starting on Katsuki's thighs, gently rubbing into the muscles with experienced ease. 

Bakugou's eyes widened at the feeling, his core already getting hot with desire. And as Kirishima's fingers went under the towel to his inner thighs, he fought a gasp. Comments filled with perverted comments telling the redhead to get more handsy and to give the blond a hand job with all the oil. 

But as Eijirou put a knee on the table and nearly climbed over Katsuki to perfectly get his back, Katsuki started panting at the feeling. It wasn't the massage that was getting him. It was the feeling of Eijirou's crotch rubbing against the thin towel, his cock slightly hard underneath his black scrubs. 

As it was about time for the script to move onto Katsuki domming Kirishima, Bakugou was stifling whimpers of shock and embarrassment. His cock aching for him to fuck Kirishima…..actually. His body was aching to be fucked by Kirishima. 

As Katsuki was turned around, His eyes were teary, his fans taking quick, shocked notice and flooding the comments with surprise, degrading, perverted insults about how he looked like a twink instead. 

Kirishima's eyes slightly widened at the sight, and as Bakugou swallowed his embarrassment and shock, he focused on his arousal and his own perverse desires. "F-Fuck me….instead.." He whispered, his eyes slightly squinting and blurring with tears. 

Before he knew it, Eijirou was leaning over top of him with a slick hand around his neck. Bakugou couldn't help but moan at the pressure, his stream struggling to keep up with the influx of viewers and comments about the top 3 best doms getting put in his place by a rando. 

Bakugou's mind wasn't on the donations anymore, not on the follower count or his ranking at this point. He was gasping for air as Kirishima roughly kissed and bit at his body, keeping an iron grip on Katsuki's neck. "Oh fuck yes- Was hoping to god I would be able to fuck your tight ass one day-!" Kirishima breathed against his skin, licking up his nipple to his jaw and nipping at him. 

He suddenly ripped himself off the blonde, walking over to the camera and grabbing it, making a winky face at the viewers as he moved the camera to get a better view of Bakugou teary eyed, flushed and a line of red, darkening hickies and bites. 

He got back on the table, roughly gripping Katsuki's thighs and harshly pushing them apart, an action that would probably make some other guy pull a muscle. He wrapped his arms around his spread thighs, pulling his hips up to meet his crotch, the pale skin against his dark black scrubs finally letting Bakugou and the viewers know what the newbie was packing, and it was a lot. 

"H-Holy fuck-" Bakugou whispered out as his towel was ripped off of him, oil being grabbed off the table and the cap popped open. Kirishima paused, looking up to Bakugou, a silent plea for last minute permission. Katsuki's red eyes met crimson, and he swiftly nodded his head, accidentally earning more donations from the show of submission. 

Eijirou lathered his fingers in oil, tracing the blond's pink hole carefully, giving the camera another adjustment so the viewers could see his perfect view as well; a red faced, teary eyed dom with his tight ass being slicked up so nicely. 

The oil made Katsuki's muscle relax easily, becoming soft under the thick tanned finger, and as he swiftly plunged in the singular finger, Katsuki gasped with shock, his eyes going wide at the foregin feeling. 

Kirishima slowly pumped his finger, adding slightly more oil every time his muscle got a bit too tight, slipping in more fingers every time his rim was soft. It felt like such a short amount of time between preparing to dom his best friend to being finger fucked by him. Eijirou's forearm had veins slightly protruding as he slammed his fingers into his friend at a pace that made vibrators look pathetic. Katsuki's pretty little back was arched so nicely, his muscles flexing and his toes curling, tears falling from his eyes as moan after moan was ripped from him. 

"P-Please! I can't! I can't take it anymore!" He finally sobbed, shaking his head at the man's brutal pace, purposely avoiding his prostate after hitting it every couple times. 

Kirishima smirked, slowly sliding his fingers out only to slide his thumbs inside, stretching the soft muscle as he pleased, showing off the blond's perfectly hot pink insides, his swollen rim slick and twitching. "So nice and pretty for me, hm? You wanna take my fat cock for the first time? Expose how much of a slut you are for cock? For my cock?" Kirishima said seductively, moving the camera again. 

Katsuki nodded his head rapidly, his eyes glued to the hard to see bulge under his black scrubs. "Use your words, baby." Eijirou said firmly, palming himself. "Y-Yes- I want it-! I w-want your fat cock-!" He said, face flushing with embarrassment again. "Good boy~" He cooed, finally grabbing the hem of his pants and pulling them down. 

It was almost like he struggled to pull the front down far enough, his cock just kept following, and once it finally got over his tip, his penis sprung up to lightly slap against his stomach before it weighed itself down. The camera got Bakugou's surprise and shock perfectly, the comments finally going quiet, almost as if everyone had to take in what they were seeing as well. 

Kirishima grabbed the base of his cock, lifting it and letting it slap against Bakugou's hole, earning a slightly muffled whimper from the blond. He gently moved his hips, letting his cock slide smoothly against his hole, his tip teasing the smaller's balls. The comments were filled with encouragement and orders to get on with it. 

Kirishima chuckled darkly, letting his tip catch on the rim, slowly pushing in. Bakugou's eyebrows furrowed before his mouth dropped and eyes widened with the pressure. He let out a guttural moan, his legs starting to shake. 

As Eijirou bottomed out with a groan, Katsuki was shaking and whimpering, his own well endowed cock red and dripping precome. 

The redhead pulled out before slamming back in, the blond shooting up with shock only to be met with a hand on his neck again, pinning him down as the Kirishima harshly forced his way between Bakugou's legs even more, only giving the blond a couple seconds to adjust before he started snapping his hips into the smaller man's ass. Bakugou took in one breath of air before lewd moans poured from him, his voice cracking every time his skin was slapped with another brutal thrust. 

"Agh- P-Please-!" Katsuki nearly screamed out, Eijirou grabbing the back of his knees and pressing them back to meet his shoulders, effectively putting him in a mating press. "Please what, baby? Tell me what you fucking want!" Eijirou growled out, groaning as Katsuki's tight, slicked up boy cunt tried to milk him, pulsing and sucking him in with every movement. "I-I want it harder! Please- Please fuck me harder! Give me more!" Bakugou nearly sobbed, looking at where their bodies were connected with teary wide eyes. "Such a fuckin' slut-! Making all these people think you were a fucking dom, only to start begging for the first fat cock you see! Want it harder? Wanna feel my fat dick in you for days?" He growled, eagerly moving to grab Katsuki's ankles and awkwardly spreading them over Katsuki's head before turning him, ripping his cock out of his pillowy ass and nearly picking the blond up by his ass, grabbing the nape of his neck and forcing him on his knees with his head down. 

He slammed back in, the blond nearly screaming once again as he set another brutal pace. "Y-Yes! Please, god yes! Fuck me more! Don't stop!" Katsuki sobbed, drool and tears staining his lewd face. "Wouldn't fucking dream of it! You love having your little boy cunt fucked, huh? Love how I fucking ruin you on this dick?" Kirishima growled, slapping a hand down on his fat ass, groaning loudly at the sight of all the excess muscle and fat jiggle even more. 

Katsuki's ass slapped against Eijirou's abs every time he slammed into the boy, his back muscles looking so pretty at this angle. 

"Oh shit- I'm gonna cum! Please make me cum! Don't fucking stop~!" Bakugou moaned, arching his back and lifting his ass up higher so Eijirou could hit his prostate at the best angle. "Haven't even touched your cock and you're gonna cum? Fucking do it! Cum on this cock, make it yours and I'll fuck you every day!" Kirishima promised, sharpening his thrusts to where all Bakugou could do is claw at the padded table and scream, staring into the camera as his orgasm was building higher and higher. 

"I- Fuck! I'm fucking cummin'!" Bakugou screamed, his body shaking under Kirishima as his thrusts went unbroken, hurtling Katsuki into overstimulation. He started screaming for relief, but as Kirishima planted his hands into the curvature of Bakugou's spine, he started thrusting purely for his own relief. Groaning and growling above a sobbing Katsuki. "S-Stop! I can't! Slow down~ Please!" Katsuki begged, his cock trying to harden again. His body was on fire, every nerve fried with pleasure he'd never experienced, and Katsuki knew he was addicted. 

"Almost fuckin' there! Gonna cum in your ass- Claim you, make you mine!" Eijirou groaned out, his balls drawing up tight as his own climax ripped through him, filling up the man's stomach with his cum. 

He slowly pulled out, Katsuki in the same position even after Eijirou let go of him. He grabbed the camera, pointing it at Bakugou's gaping and cum filled hole, watching how he pulsed against nothing, forcing the cum to leak out of him despite his angle. 

Not only did Katsuki make absolute bank while taking monster cock like a slut, he took the No.1 spot by over a thousand followers and ratings. 

[spaceprincessem]

this happiness is hell on earth {i think it’s gonna kill me} | 10k buddie fic | ao3 link

[content warning: suicidal ideation]

Maybe now that he’s found people he loves and a place he calls home being alone isn't really the problem. Maybe the problem is that he’s clung too hard to what he’s got. Constantly biting the hand that feeds. Taking and taking and taking until the well inevitably dries up. Because Buck has never once been satisfied with the things given to him. Maybe he can’t find the answer to happiness because there is no answer.

There’s just Evan Buckley always wanting more.

It’s three in the goddamn morning and he’s lying in bed watching New Moon because it’s playing on television and he has some stupid nostalgic attachment to the Twilight series. If Chimney ever finds out he’ll never hear the end of it. If Buck is being honest it's all Maddie’s fault. She left her well worn copy of Twilight on her bookshelf, her messy, cursive writing crammed in the margins where she made notes about her favorite parts. In the years that followed some of their only communication stemmed from text conversations about the rest of the series. Buck bought the books from second hand stores with money from his paper route and sat out on the roof below his bedroom window with a flashlight reading through them until the sun came up. He knows Bella’s particular method of coping with the loss of Edward isn’t exactly healthy, but he can, unfortunately, relate.

It’s the cliff jumping scene that makes him pause.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it before. He’s seen the reels on Instagram. The viral videos of people jumping from extremely high places just to plunge into the depths below. He’s always imagined the rush of adrenaline you’d feel in the free fall. The way the wind nips at your skin, the last inhale of air before you hit the water with a force that probably hurts just a little. He’s read the paragraphs beneath the post. How they all gush about the feeling of being alive. It’s clearly reckless. Because the chances of something going wrong are just too high and Buck can’t afford to spend his karma on recreational activities.

But.

Maybe this is as close as he can get to the feeling of dying without actually dying. Or causing severe bodily harm. Maybe this is his chance to really see if the answer to happiness is just on the other side of the veil.

So he goes down his little research rabbit hole. He finds groups that regularly meet up when the weather is just right. The kind of people who know what they’re doing, or as much as anyone can when you’re throwing yourself into the mercy of gravity. He’s careful not to follow any of them on his social media because the last thing he needs is someone on the team catching wind of what he’s about to do. Not that it should be a secret. He’s seen his fair share of accidents for hobbies more mainstream and lower risk, but the last thing he needs is to be benched from work or pulled into an intervention from his friends and family. He’s allowed to have this. Even if it’s for, mostly, the wrong reasons. He DMs a few people and they gladly share their next group outing. Some set of cliffs only twenty minutes from where he works.

Buck checks the weather for that day. Clear skies and calm waves. It’s fine. He’ll be fine. He can do it once and if it doesn’t give him the clarity he’s looking for then he can just stop. Easy as that.

Easy as that.

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