#this is very rough but too many wips at the same time so i'll let this one go and call it done

[lisondraws]

Your love is bleeding off the pages~

I'm honestly obsessed with reframing dialogue from Asteroid City (the play) as scenes of these two. It is said that Jones Hall "created" the role of Augie Steenbeck, after all.

[dirty-bosmer]

WIP Whenever

Fashionably late for this WIP Wednesday (I had scrounge something up 😅) Thanks to @tallmatcha for tagging me this week, as I could use any excuse to write something new or in this case, edit an old scrap into something slightly more presentable ✨

From my Oblivion fic, The Illusionist:

Nim didn’t remember the house being so brittle before, but every creak of the floorboards came hoarse, summoned from deep within the wood, a wail like each step she took was splintering a poorly set bone. A furtive glance around revealed the vista hadn’t much changed. At the window, the same moth-eaten drapes, grime clinging to the pane so thick that the light eking through was a jaundiced yellow the color of old paper. Its spotlight sharpened on her back, and she could feel it squinting, scrutinizing the opalescent glow bleeding freely from her pores, tracking her every movement with its lone and rheumy eye. 

One step, two steps, three through the basement door. Ahead of her, Arquen stood cloaked in shadows that hung off her long silhouette like a night shift. Nim felt a pang of envy. She missed blurring into nothing and blending away into the unseen, but as they traveled down another hallway punctuated by another moribund groan, she knew she could never return to these sunless spaces, that wherever she went her magic would veil the murk the way an oil sheen sat on dark water. Four steps, five, and on the sixth, her footfall echoed off the walls with too much resonance to be explained by her meager, mortal body. It gave Arquen pause, but they both ignored it to stare ahead. Beyond the hole in the far wall, the jagged passage to the sanctuary wended down like a withered vein.  

“I’ll open it,” Arquen said when at last they came to the Black Door. “I don’t know if it would open to you otherwise.”

Nim’s hand twitched involuntarily. She fought to lower it, feeling a flare of not quite anger, not quite curiosity. The sprouting seed of challenge, perhaps. “I could always try.”

Arquen placed her hand on the door like her warm, humming flesh was the key. "Let’s not," she said, and when the door whispered out its sibilant hiss, the visage of Sithis shone darkly.  “My assassins will wonder what you’re doing here. Best not give them reason to ask too many questions.”

“They know who I am?”

“This sanctuary bears a tainted legacy. It will always be a ripe breeding ground for rumors.”

“Oh. So you mean you’re just as bad as Lucien.”

“No," Arquen said. "Worse.” Arquen spoke softly and spoke to the door even softer. Nim pretended not to hear and fixed her gaze on the carved face of Sithis, each eye a hollow sun boring into the sky. Beneath him, the Night Mother cradled her children, offered them up like slabs of slaughtered calf, and this family portrait had been engraved by such a deft and loving hand, so detailed that Nim was certain there was a greater message etched within. But she couldn’t find it though she looked, and she looked hard. Where was it, the meaning, the message that had lured so many others down into this hole and tucked them smiling into their graves? She ran a hand along the shallow craters, feeling for a word, a secret, for something to touch her back, but she felt nothing more than the rough ridges of stone beneath her fingers, and like every time before, it was cold. Just once she wished it would burn.

I am very late on this and realize most everyone has already been tagged, so if you see this consider yourself tagged too. Woops, sorry. I'll get you next week :p

[valeffelees]

An Ask Game for Writers to Procrastinate Working on Your WIP(s)

thank you kindly for tagging me @shrekgogurt @youarenevertooold, and @monbons i've been seeing this game make its rounds on my dash and was really hoping someone would pull me in!

🦈 Tell us the name of one of your WIP(s)

my main three wips at the moment are without sun, ballad of the final sparrow, which is more commonly known as bitverse, and fragile things (and how to break them), but i've also been fucking around a bit the last two or three weeks with a new (terrible, evil, very self-indulgent) wip called god-forbid.

🍄 Describe one of your WIPs in the format of “___ + ___ =___”  

i think i might be dumb bc i don't understand this question at all.

🌍 What tags or warnings will your WIP(s) need if you intend to share it?

bitverse: heavy angst, psychological horror elements, alcohol abuse, allusions to suicide, unhealthy coping mechanisms, dead dove: do not eat.

🧭 An alternative title to one of your WIP(s)?

ballad of the final sparrow -> baz is typing fragile things (and how to break them) -> there's a werewolf in london god-forbid -> the gap between a tragedy and comedy

⚠️ Which WIP you’re most likely to finish or update next?

i have no idea. i mean, you'd think the answer would be without sun since it's the only fic i actually have posted at the moment, but unfortunately i am an untrustworthy villain.

💾 What is the document of your WIP called? (Not the story title, but what you’ve saved it as.)

same as the fic title. if i start a new wip and don't know what to call it, i'll pick something at random and add (working title) at the end.

🖍 Post any sentence from your WIP

from without sun:

“You don’t like peppermint,” he says. But maybe she does. Maybe that’s one more thing he can add to his growing list of things he got wrong about Agatha Wellbelove. No. 1 — Dislikes peppermint; actually, she is quite fond of it. No. 2 — Likes Simon Snow; him, not so much.

♻️ A scrapped idea for your current WIP

one of the biggest changes i made to the plot of without sun really early on was penelope's role in the story. i had a clear idea of the story i wanted to tell as soon as i saw the prompt for the fic. without sun was always supposed to be about more than simon and baz. the story is about grief and love, and the space we take up in the lives of the people around us. but n e way, in my orig draft, penny was actually supposed to be able to communicate with simon a bit, and there was gonna be a whole sect of scenes in the middle of the fic where they sat around together trying to break simon's curse what we know and what we don't know style via passing notes. i ended up tossing this idea really quickly tho, and i'm glad i did bc one of my favourite moments i've ever written in any fic happens in chapter two of without sun and it belongs to simon and penny.

🤔 What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

so many. or, well—what counts as "haven't even started"? i hate to let ideas sit around in my head bc it feels like leaving raspberries in the fridge for too long, like that shit is gonna get mould on it, so usually the first thing i do is rough out a few scenes and/or script out a very rough outline of the plot (like this / this / this style) so that i have something to come back to later. i have dozens of zero drafts just lying tf around. but otherwise, yeah, so many. one big idea i have is called heart on fire and it's based on fanart, but i haven't started it yet bc obvs i wanna get permission from the artist first but i've been holding off reaching out to them about it until i've knocked a few of my less intimidating longfics off my wip list bc heart on fire is gonna fucking hefty so i don't wanna give'r until i'm sure i can manage it.

🤡 How many WIPs are you actively working on?

LMFAO

🛠 Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

i'm having a real bitch of a time with agatha's main scene in chapter two of without sun, i've been fighting with it on and off for months, but i can't get it to do what i want it to do.

❤️ Not a question, just a second kudos to send.

cheers!

sorry for any doubles but, tagging: @drowninginships @cosmicalart @that-disabled-princess @fatalfangirl @cutestkilla @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @artsyunderstudy @thewholelemon @roomwithanopenfire @hushed-chorus @blackberrysummerblog @imagineacoolusername @nightimedreamersworld @prettygoododds @confused-bi-queer @mooncello and an open tag for anybody else who wants to procrastinate their wips!

[never-ending-fanfic]

You have so many good WIP titles that I can't even decide 🫣. Fortunately, two are already gone and one I know what it's about 😊. But, uh, hmm, I'll ask for… *whispering* Loth-rat, Loth-cat, Loth-wolf, run. Pick a path… “Scars After Onderon”, please 🥹?

Sure thing! Thank you for asking! ♥️

This one, once again is in my head and not started, but I'm excited to write it and you can thank @probablynot-john for the inspiration and idea (although their original idea was a little darker)

Kallus, after living through Onderon and the slaughter of his unit, didn't come back unharmed. He just lost the only people he could say he was close to and considered friends, he saw them get killed by Gerrera's Lasat mercenary in a particularly merciless way. But because of the explosion and shock he was unable to stop the merc from hurting him, even though he let him live. He has scars from the merc's claws and weapons all over his back, on his chest and arms.

He's been ashamed of them ever since he recovered and saw the leftover visible, rough scars. It served as a reminder of how helpless he's been, how he couldn't lift a finger as his friends were killed in front of him, how he couldn't even defend himself against the one who killed them. He hates looking in the mirror, the reminder of that day is clear on his skin. He was so weak then and he never wants to be weak like that again.

It goes on and doesn't stop with the Rebellion. He's very careful not to let anyone see them, which was so much easier with an Imperial uniform. Yavin is a hot place and walking around in a jacket isn't always the best idea but he does it anyway and he's quite successful in keeping his scars from the view of others.

Until one day he goes on a mission with the Ghost and needs to change into new clothes to go undercover or somthing like that. Zeb says he can change in his room and Kallus rushes with doing that, thankfully nobody had the idea to burst into the room.

The same couldn't be said about after the mission, when he was changing back to his clothes, because Zeb walked into the room just as Kallus was putting on his shirt. And the time stopped. In the blind panic Kallus rushed to close the door, ignoring Zeb's apologies. It was too late anyway, he saw the damage

Zeb doesn't know how to confront his friend about it- he saw the scars and is now concerned for Kallus as the wave of protectiveness washes over him.

No more spoilers for you for now, if you wait patiently then you might live to the day I write it

[scienceoftheidiot]

Here you go @magipies ! Second round of the asks !!! Thank you again I'm having lots of fun replying to those 😁

🍷 Do you drink and write?

I don't think I've done this ever. I very, extremely rarely drink if I'm alone - I did a couple of times when I lived alone, but now if you see me mentioning I'm drunk I probably shared a drink with my husband or family. And I kind of rarely write when I'm not alone so, here you go.

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

When I can. Could be anytime. I'm just constantly thinking about the stuff I'm writing about so...

🎯 Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which?

... no. Lol. Mostly when people make predictions (which I love !!! It's really not often.) they tend to be off. It's not that I try to surprise, it's just that I think I tend to think weirdly? But like. Most of the time my predictions when I read are off too, so lol I think I'm just weird 🤣

❌ What’s a trope you will never write?

I'm more than sure you won't ever see any noncon from me. In fact anything too rough smut wise neither, I think. Other than that there's SO MANY tropes I don't know that I can't tell, you know ?

Oh yeah, thinking about it. No omegaverse from me. Really not my thing at all. Nope. Thanks.

💖 What made you start writing?

I don't remember a time when I didn't write. My parents got me an old as balls electric typewriter when I was in middle school (that's why my typing is so weird and loud. The keys were stuck. Gotta be STRONG.). Anyway if we're talking fics, same, but actually writing and posting a fic I think it was a cliffhanger at the end of a certain season of a certain show, that made me just insane enough to write (in English, too, because I used to hate my french style)(I've retroactively posted it to AO3 so yeah it's there but I mean I haven't read it again so I wouldn't say to try).

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

Uhhh I have nothing up and coming because they're all long fics 😅😅

Ok let's talk about that one I shared parts with you, right ? 😏

So when I finished writing Everyone learns faster on fire I thought I wouldn't go back to it.

And I didn't. BUT. I figured I wanted to rewrite it, because something sat wrong with me ; namely, that the army would keep Roy. So I. Had to start a new WIP that branched from there and... Went totally off, but in a very fun way. And now it's 33K, because the plot points fell down like dominos once I had Roy forcibly dismissed 😅 it's also less centered on Roy (and Riza) learning to adapt - since I got the other fic, been there, done that, let's say - but more on their relationship and on going forward, finding/keeping new plans going, etc.

And forward they go. And fast. Rebecca is going to go insane I think.

I've just added a Team Mustang (well. Finished team Mustang 😬🙃) scene and it was a blast to write. I can't wait to be able to bring them all together again for a very interesting plot point 😏 I also got Ed coming at one point, but not immediately.

This is half and half plot/slice of life fic, with LOTS of angst (say hi to Riza's separation anxiety)(and Roy's... I mean he's not much better than her) but also fluff. So much fluff. And smut. I'll have to plan how to post it when it's done, because this fic will be explicit but it's not like, a smut fic. It just happens. So it needs brainstorming. But it's not for now, because I'm. Actually far from the end. 🥲

Here you go, feel free to ask more questions about it if you want ! 😁

Send me some emoji asks ? (Or reblog and get one from me 👀)

[mollymawkwrites]

I just read (and reread sgdfhjlkl) your prison fic for watb and I'm having. Feelings. Primarily about cultivating vulnerability and tenderness in an oppressive and toxic environment which 😭

This AU is giving me so many questions tho. Presuming they continue building a relationship (which of course I'm going to presume) how will it progress? What kind of psychological toll will it take on them to keep up the performance, on Geralt particularly? I imagine it being painful for him to have to be so cold and forceful with Jaskier, especially as they grow closer, but does the greater objective of protecting him make it bearable? I feel like Jaskier would be more able to compartmentalize it, but could it get to be too much for him as well? What happens if it gets to a point where Geralt can't hide his affection for Jaskier, will that be used against them - not only by fellow inmates but by the guards? The wrath of the system is what's getting to me the most. Will Jaskier keeping Geralt "under control" as it were (meaning not tearing through new cellmates on a regular basis) be enough to maintain the status quo or will the guards find it more entertaining to play with them? Splitting them up, putting Jaskier with other more violent inmates or just torturing him themselves to torment Geralt? Will it get to the point where Geralt just tears the entire prison down and they run away to live out their days on the lam, maybe settle down on a lovely little coast in Mexico? (we can only hope) Also, what are they in for in the first place? Will Jaskier get out before Geralt? If Geralt's been routinely assaulting (or murdering??) other inmates is he EVER getting out? What will Jaskier do?

The whole situation has me thinking about the (woefully short) story of Butch and Wesley from the documentary "The Fear of 13" (which is very good, highly recommend and I think it's available on kanopy rn) where they were lovers on the outside and when Butch was arrested Wesley intentionally committed crimes so they could be together. Eventually they got separated and one of them was going to be moved to a different prison so that last night they sang to each other from across the cell block and the (usually tyrannical) guards let them have their goodbye. It's so soft yet tragic and I have so many feelings and I wish we knew what happened to them.

I'm sorry this is such a massively long ask, I've literally been thinking about this all evening and had to make some kind of comment 😅 your writing is lovely and I will definitely be reading more of it! (so maybe I'll be assaulting your inbox again soon dfghjjkl)

Gods Anon, I had such trouble keeping plot from sneaking into this fic, and you are not helping! I've been thinking about it all day long because of you!

I think Geralt would suffer greatly, both from his own self-loathing at "forcing" Jaskier to do things he couldn't possibly want to do with a monster like him 🙄 and from the opinion everyone else around them has of him. Jaskier would try to make him understand that he is very much willing, but Geralt's skull is thick and that would take some time for them to even be able to admit to themselves that they are in a relationship together. Of course having to keep up the act of the White Wolf and its pretty young prey would blur the lines in their relationship: what is an act and what is real? They both enjoy the roughness and the name-calling and the role play more than just for show. I think Jaskier too feels guilty about forcing sweet Geralt into it. Lots of guilt on both sides and no way to deal with it healthily in this violent, toxic environment.

I can see them managing to create a little bubble of happiness together though, despite the guards expecting Jaskier to keep Geralt on a leash and the inmates constantly poking at them to see if something gives. Once they get to talk and explain that they both very much want to be with each other outside of their farce, that, would the circumstances have been different, they would have asked the other on dates and had a sweet first kiss and maybe a house and a dog (not me crying about my own AU), they find a balance and a way to keep other people's venom from chipping at their love. Maybe they find allies too, jail can't be filled only with enemies after all...

As for why they are in jail for in the first place, I have to admit I hadn't settled on an explanation as I was writing it. I think Geralt has been set up by someone, probably Stregobor, because of an event similar to what happened in Blaviken? So while his "crimes" are not as bad as anything Jaskier might be imagining (and oh, imagine the angst potential of Jaskier torturing himself over what the man he is falling in love with could possibly have done to have end up in jail), he still sees himself as a monster who made the wrong choices and is not deserving of Jaskier's love.

For Jaskier, I'm not so sure, to be honest. What do you think he could be in for?

Although I am a sucker for angst, I couldn't survive a bad ending, but I don't have a clue on what could happen to them. They could escape, helped maybe by Eskel and Lambert on the outside, or some of Jaskier's shadiest friends; or Jaskier could find a way to have Geralt pardoned, and Stregobor in jail/killed at the same time, because that's what the fucker deserves.

I haven't heard of that story you talked about, but I'll make sure to check the documentary, it sounds very beautiful and heartbreaking. As I was writing the fic, I remembered that movie with Jim Carrey and Ewan McGregor, I Love You Phillip Morris, that I used to love as a kid. I might watch it again, for... Inspiration ;)

Thank you so much for your ask, and please, don't hesitate to assault my inbox again, it made my day! (Though I might have to add another WIP to the list now.... sigh)

[celosiaa]

hey I am in LOVE with all of your hcs and your writing, and I love how welcoming you are to different ideas and ppl in your inbox! Ive been having a bit of a rough time lately and honestly these soft ass hcs are a bright spot in my day!! just thank you for being so amazing. also would it be alright if I wrote fic with JM + Emma? Idk if I'll ever publish one (I have so many wips but never have the courage to finish and post them lol) but I wanted to check with u first!

awwwwwWWWW!!!! Emma!! This is very sweet and I’m so glad that you’ve been enjoying this veritable mountain of hcs!! I’m sorry you’ve been having a rough time too--but I’m glad to be able to offer bright spots where I can <3

You can absolutely write fic about Emma! Only thing that I ask is that you tell me what you’re planning to write, so we make sure that we don’t both write the same thing. Write away, this is all our collective imagination! Make sure you let me know if you do because I’ll DEFINITELY want to read and share <3

[diegos-butt]

GIRL GIRL GIIIRRRLLLL

i have so many thoughts.

and i am in need of a cold shower now

Last time your car decided to break down, at least it happened downtown, meaning there were around five men who saw you hopelessly staring at your car, not knowing what to do and offered their help.

so, you're saying that helped her and there was no orgy? sorry, seeing myself out.

Oh no, is this how people get murdered?

yes. simply yes. unless....

You pop the hood of the car, only to realize that everything looks the exact same and you have no idea where to start.

this would be me, i can drive pretty great, but don't ask me to look under the hood cuz i don't know anything about that lol

You watch him step out of the vehicle. His shoulders are broad, his strut is confident and his brows are furrowed, but that is nothing new.

i like where this is going

He rarely smiles, but recently you noticed that whenever you took his orders, you not only earned yourself a very lovely ‘Sweetheart’, but also a small smile.

walter is a puppy. i have added something to my wips about walter being called puppy... ssttt don't tell anyone

he would simply nod and tell you to not have too much fun without him.

the cheeky bastard

You wished though.

HELL YEAH I WISH

He starts to say something about some sort of liquid/fuel-thingy, but you have no idea what he means. Not only are you distracted because it’s too complicated, but also because of his outstanding beauty.

he just staring at him, not listening to what he says, just admiring him

Of course you fantasized about him, just like everyone else. There was quite the age gap between you, a rough fifteen years, but that never stopped you from having the most disgusting, NSFW dreams about him.

relatable. yes. very relatable. yes.

We can leave your car here and I can drive you to your place if you want.’

heheheheheheehehheeheheheh

'But what if it gets stolen?’

'How?’ he asks. 'The car doesn’t work, right?’

hahahahahahah walter love u

Then you realize that you are wearing a pretty short skirt and your underwear is a bit on the flimsier side.

*oops* *bends over some more*

Walter has his arms crossed in front of his chest

i'll do anything he says right now.

‘For me to give you a lift back home.’ He holds out one of his hands and says: ‘That piece of fabric you call your underwear, please.’

He roughly slams his lips against yours and within a second you melt against him.

jesus fuck. fuck me. that what he did before this, ooeoeeeeeeeffffff

You bite your lip and let out a sweet giggle when he turns you around, bending you over the passengers seat of the truck, your toes barely finding the ground.

The sounds that leave your lips, make him go feral. Part of him wants to take the time, worship your body and look you in the eye as you fall apart in his arms. But that part doesn’t have the upper hand now. The part that wants to destroy you, rail you, fill you is completely taking over.

holy shit, fuck. what. oh my god. goodness. all i have to say is: YES YES YES YES YESSSSS

He holds your hips tightly, probably imprinting you with some bruises, as he paints you from the inside.

he can leave bruises as much as he wants yo

‘Right on my cock as I drive you to my place, because we’re not done yet.’

this would probably not work with him, but the thought of this..... FUCK FUCK FUCK ME

girl damn what did ya do. fuck. this is so goooooooooood damn

You're on a roadtrip and in the middle of nowhere, your car breaks down. Obviously your phone died too - what happens next?

This, is very interesting and my horny brain figured out what would happen next 👀👀

Walter Marshall x fem!reader

Wordcount: 1.5k (yes, a lot happens)

Warnings: Fingering, squirting, unprotected sex 👀

‘Piece of shit,’ you mutter under your breath. You cannot believe this happened again and to make matters even worse, you're in the middle of fucking nowhere. Last time your car decided to break down, at least it happened downtown, meaning there were around five men who saw you hopelessly staring at your car, not knowing what to do and offered their help.

Now, you’re by yourself.

You grab your phone from the passengers seat, only to discover the most horrible thing that could ever happen to you.

Your battery died.

It’s probably around thirty minutes until you reach some sort of civilization and it’s getting darker and darker.

Oh no, is this how people get murdered?

Great, now you’re not only by yourself, but you also scared yourself by envisioning horrible scenario's. You pop the hood of the car, only to realize that everything looks the exact same and you have no idea where to start. Why do the problems have to be so complicated? If it were a flat tire, you probably would’ve managed to fix it, but this is on a whole new level of complex.

A car stops behind yours and your heart stops for a few seconds. Please don’t be a serial killer, please don’t be creepy in general. You peek around your car, only to see the very familiar truck. You’ve seen that car around in town, including the owner of it.

You watch him step out of the vehicle. His shoulders are broad, his strut is confident and his brows are furrowed, but that is nothing new. When he sees it’s you, one corner of his mouth curls up. ‘Sweetheart,’ he says and you can’t help but slightly giggle when hearing that nickname.

Detective Walter Marshall is a very well loved customer at the cafe you work at, mostly because he comes by every day and has become a reliable income. He always orders one cappuccino to go and sometimes he goes a little crazy and orders a cookie with it as well. He rarely smiles, but recently you noticed that whenever you took his orders, you not only earned yourself a very lovely 'Sweetheart', but also a small smile. Sometimes, he would even go as far to asking you what your plans were for after work and when you answered with whatever the plans were, he would simply nod and tell you to not have too much fun without him.

It was cheeky and slightly flirty, but it was always within the four walls of the cafe and nothing happened. You wished though. Walter Marshall was a very desired bachelor in town.

‘Hi detective,’ you say with a smile.

‘Car trouble?’

You nod. ‘Yes, it’s just that my car gives up from time to time.’

‘I see, I see.’ He rolls up his sleeves and stands next to you, examining everything. He starts to say something about some sort of liquid/fuel-thingy, but you have no idea what he means. Not only are you distracted because it’s too complicated, but also because of his outstanding beauty. No man in town tips to him.

Of course you fantasized about him, just like everyone else. There was quite the age gap between you, a rough fifteen years, but that never stopped you from having the most disgusting, NSFW dreams about him.

‘What?’ you ask him, when he looks at you, obviously waiting for an answer.

‘You weren’t listening,’ he chuckles. ‘That’s okay. What I said was that it’s too late to call for a tow truck and that I can’t fix it right away. We can leave your car here and I can drive you to your place if you want.'

'But what if it gets stolen?'

'How?' he asks. 'The car doesn't work, right?'

You shake your head. 'Maybe it's for the best. It's a stupid car anyway. The only reason I have it, because I got it for free.'

'Maybe that should've been a red flag. Free cars are rarely reliable.'

You scoff. Dammit, you hate it when other people are right. 'You sure you want to give me a lift?'

Walter scoffs. ‘I’m not gonna leave you in the middle of nowhere by yourself.’ He closes the hood of my car and adds to it: ‘Besides, I don’t want anything to happen to my favorite barista. You’re the only one who hasn’t messed with my cappuccino.’

You shouldn’t giggle or feel nervous, yet you do both.

‘Come on, go grab your stuff and we’ll go.’

You walk over to the driver’s side and lean over the seats to grab both the key from the ignition and your bag. Then you realize that you are wearing a pretty short skirt and your underwear is a bit on the flimsier side. You hear an approving hum from behind you. Part of you wants to die of shame, the other part however makes sure things heat up in between your thighs.

When you get out of the car and close the door, Walter has his arms crossed in front of his chest. ‘One condition, sweetheart,’ he says, taking the bag from your hand.

You frown. ‘For what?’

‘For me to give you a lift back home.’ He holds out one of his hands and says: ‘That piece of fabric you call your underwear, please.’

You blink your eyes once, twice and the universe how many times after that, mostly because you cannot believe those words—those dirty words—left his lips. His expression barely changed. It’s the emotionless look you are so used of seeing, but the words that take you by surprise.

You have had many dirty daydreams, but handing over your underwear in the middle of nowhere wasn’t one. You hook your thumbs behind the waistband of your panties and push it down your legs. When you step out of them, you hand them to Walter, who nods in approval.

The two of you walk towards the passenger’s side of his truck, when he grabs you by your hip and turns you around. With your back pressed against the door, he lets his hand slide underneath your skirt between your thighs. Your lips slightly parted, as his rough fingers knead the soft flesh of your thighs. ‘Do you have any idea how much I’ve been wanting this?’ he asks you. ‘It’s always those pretty smiles,’ he continues, ‘the way you lean over the counter in those tops with a deep neckline and how you bite your lip when you’re focused. Have you got a clue of what that does to me?’

‘No detective, I don’t,’ you whimper.

Walter smiles at your desperation, as you’re already grinding against his fingers. Fuck, he knew deep down what you could be, but this he didn’t expect. He dips in one finger, but when he discovers how wet you are, how ready you are for him, he pushes in another.

Your pleasured moan fills the emptiness around you. You’re a loud one too, Walter thinks to himself. You sure are the jackpot. His fingers brush against all the right spots. He watches your eyes rolling back, your breathing become ragged and your thighs and walls clenching together. ‘Beg for it,’ he says.

Instantly, you obey. ‘Detective, please, please, can I cum?’

There is no way you are truly real.

He barely has the change to answer, when you tumble over the edge. When you have to hold onto him since you can’t trust your own legs. When you squirt passed his fingers down your legs. The sobs and strained moans that leave your lips, make him grin in satisfaction. He roughly slams his lips against yours and within a second you melt against him.

He pulls out his fingers and without letting go of your lips for one millisecond, he opens the door of his truck. ‘They always say you are such a lovely young lady. So innocent and sweet,’ he says to you. ‘But you’ve got a dirty streak.’

You bite your lip and let out a sweet giggle when he turns you around, bending you over the passengers seat of the truck, your toes barely finding the ground. As Walter uses one hand to knead the soft flesh of your ample behind, the other unzips his pants and pulls out his cock. After pumping it a few times, he lines himself up at your throbbing cunt, before pushing himself in entirely.

The sounds that leave your lips, make him go feral. Part of him wants to take the time, worship your body and look you in the eye as you fall apart in his arms. But that part doesn’t have the upper hand now. The part that wants to destroy you, rail you, fill you is completely taking over.

There is no stopping now. Skin slapping against skin. His groans mixed with your cries of pleasure. He can feel it, your warm walls that feel so good around him, start to squeeze his hard member. ‘Detective, I’m close again,’ you wail.

‘Let it go, sweetheart,’ he tells you and on cue you start to shudder, your orgasm washing over you and that’s enough for him to reach his limits. He holds your hips tightly, probably imprinting you with some bruises, as he paints you from the inside.

He gives himself a few seconds to regain himself, before he pulls out and watches it all drip down your legs. You’re limb, barely able to stand on your legs. Your skirt is still bundled up near your waist, revealing your beautiful round bottom.

He grabs you by your arm and pulls you against his body, pressing his lips on yours. ‘You’re gonna make a mess on my seat,’ he says.

‘You’re fault,’ you mumble against his lips, only for you to earn a sharp slap on your behind. ‘Sorry, detective,’ you whisper. ‘How— Where do I sit then?’

He smiles. ‘Right on my cock as I drive you to my place, because we’re not done yet.’

✨ Okay, I'll see myself out now ✨