#wip rag games

[afewproblems]

I was tagged by @steddierthings thank you my friend, for the last sentence tag game!

Remember! Tag as many people as there are words in the last sentence you wrote (it can be from fic, an original work, song, poem, whatever you want!)

If only he had locked the door, if he had been able to hold his own with Billy, this never would have happened.

From chapter Seven of my Season Two AU!

Aaaand that is a lot of words...so I'll do my best but whoever else would like to join, please feel free!

@strangersteddierthings @spooky-brakers @steddie-there @stevesbipanic @steves-strapcollection @flowercrowngods @unclewaynemunson @estrellami-1 @eriquin

[ajscico]

Running Ragged? 👀👀

You know I love to see what shenanigans are running through your brain!

I’m still so stuck on this idea. :)

Right now I’m looking to find small opportunities for Sky to ‘see’ what’s going on with the rest of the chain. Because I have scenes like this:

Legend looked...Ill. He was always pale, but the Veteran Hero's face appeared almost gray. There were bruise-dark circles under his eyes and he kept going to fidget with items that weren't there.

“How are you holding up?”

Legend turned to face his successor. Hyrule looked miserable and had some collar around his neck and cuffs made of the same around his wrists.

“How am I holding up? Sages and Saints, ‘Rule! I'm not the one wearing an enchanted dog collar.”

Hyrule winced. “Luckily my only side effect is feeling cold. You, on the other hand, look like death warmed over.”

Legend gave a bitter chuckle. “Yeah, well, let's just say it's a good thing at the moment that the overgrown geckos haven't brought food yet.”

…

Sky woke to a canvas canopy above him and a couch under him.

Thanks for the ask ♥️

[grittyreadsfic]

IT'S WEDNESDAY!!! I updated ijhsiwgf and posted a fic under 2k!!!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43896601

And of course my Google docs+ Pinterest boards + playlists are thriving lol.

- 💖

i got the email about the update and i’m so excited to read it (and also your new fic!!!)

[ki-yomii]

careful | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 2.2k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dom!jk, sub!reader, dirty talk, mild dom/sub dynamics, orgasm control/edging, slight brat kink, slight brat tamer!jk, pet names, degradation kink, praise kink, mild dacryphilia, finger fucking, sub drop, pussy smacking, wet & messy ➥ summary | you should always be careful what you ask for ➥ notes | what's that - posting a fic that isn't any of my wips/requests? more likely than you think 🥲

i started writing today with the intent to work on my vampire jk fic cuz spooky season. instead, i found myself here... i'm sorry 💀

also i’ve seen enough run episodes to know you don’t want jk’s hands smacking you anywhere 😬

🩷 masterlist | inbox | AO3 🩷

“Look at me, baby.”

The low warning cuts through your muffled whines, Jungkook’s weight pinning you to the wall. Thick fingers grind deep inside your cunt, digging into your g-spot mercilessly.

Pressure builds behind your hips, borderline painful as you shift around in a vain attempt to dislodge him.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he says, “You know better.”

Whenever Jungkook speaks, his voice scrapes down your spine, low and whiskey rough. His chest is a long line of heat, plastered to your front from stem to stern.

The rapid gallop of his heartbeat echoes your own rabbit-fast rhythm, the scent of his cologne clogging your nose and clouding your thoughts.

He bites out your name, the palm shackling your hands above your head squeezing your wrist. Blunt nails dig into the delicate skin of your pulse point.

A silent prompt you know better than to ignore. And yet, the temptation to do so is almost too much.

Keen awareness roots low in your belly, dripping down between your thighs like candle wax. Your thighs tense with the strain of controlling the involuntary drop of your hips; the urge to rock down into his touch choking the breath from your lungs.

“I…”

The instinct to comply is almost Pavlovian. After all, you’re Jungkook’s good girl, aren’t you? Loved and fucked and trained to his liking.

(But how can you be good when he looks at you like that? It’s just not fair.)

Being good all the time is boring.

No. Your mouth snaps shut, and any response you have turns to ash on your tongue. The words catch on the backs of your teeth like candy. Not this time.

“Why are you being like this, huh?” Jungkook’s brows shoot towards his hairline, his dark head ducking to try and catch your eye. “I know I taught you better.”

How could you ever forget the rules when he’s fucked them into you so thoroughly? Took you apart piece by piece only to stitch you back together in his image - his precious little darling made to take his cock and swallow his cum.

“You really don’t wanna play this game with me right now. Trust me.”

Breath lodging somewhere in the middle of your throat, and tasting suspiciously of regret, you shake your head and dig your heels in. Resist the urge to crumble at his feet, beg for forgiveness with your mouth, your hands.

It’s already too late to back out - it’ll just be worse for you if you do.

Jungkook might hide his less… savory traits better than most, but you’ve experienced his greedy kisses firsthand, felt the tug of his teeth and tasted the salt of his skin. Heard his ragged moans honey sweet in your ear, felt the harsh grind of his body along yours.

When he smiles, it’s wicked, "Last chance. Show me those pretty eyes of yours, baby.”

Anticipation hooks behind your navel, stomach swooping as heat curls up in the valley of your hips. Blood rushes in your ears, starting as a slow thrum that crescendos into a rapid drum. Your heart tattoos itself into your ribs.

Licking your lips, your refusal shudders from you in a throaty rush, “No.”

A low hum fills the following silence, noncommittal. The mounting tension threatens to strangle you, sets your teeth on edge. Sparse hairs at the nape of your neck prickle.

And then, before you have time to consider taking it all back, plush lips ghost over the hollow below your ear. Whisps of dark hair whisper over your skin, soft and ticklish. Shivers race down your spine, spread through your fingers and toes.

“Alright, have it your way,” Jungkook smothers his words in the tender slope of your neck, “but remember: you asked for it. Don’t come crying to me afterward.”

Readjusting, Jungkook’s broad shoulders curve forward and the slackened hand on your wrists renews its grip. The cold tip of his nose traces along your jaw, inhaling the perfume of your silken skin.

An exhale shudders from him in a vulgar husk of breath. When you clench around his fingers still buried inside you, he laughs low and mocking.

“Damn, baby, your pussy’s just sucking me in. You really wanna cum that bad?” Kisses pepper up the side of your face, skirting the side of your mouth. “Heh, yeah, I know you do - such a dirty little slut.”

“Oh!” You sigh, sparks sizzling through your limbs, as Jungkook flexes his fingertips playfully against your swollen g-spot. Your hips tilt into the touch. “Hah…”

“That feel good, huh?”

A low keen escapes when he draws your earlobe into the moist heat of his mouth, his lips clamping down while the sharp points of his canines roll the tender fat. Little kisses of pain burn, brighten the arousal blooming deep within you.

“Yeah, of course it does,” Jungkook breathes, his voice low and husky in your ear as he strokes at your fluttering walls. “Just look at you.”

Unable to swallow the broken gasp of his name when he hits your favourite spot at the right angle, you tremble against his chest from where you’re pinned and squeeze your eyes shut, “J-Jung--!”

Holding up your own weight on weak knees is an endurance sport - one you’re losing as they bow and shake, threaten to give out. At the same time, your arms feel like lead, going numb from having them suspended over your head for so long.

Head light and floaty, your nails bite into the backs of his hands as a sharp spike of pleasure slices through you. “I’m--”

“Gonna cum soon?” Jungkook asks, the devilish grin tugging at the corners of his sculpted mouth more a baring of teeth. “Don’t lie to me.”

At your frantic nod, he tugs his fingers free from the tight clutch of your body with a sloppy squelch. Slick oozes from your cunt in a sticky rush that wets your inner thighs, your gut clenching hard with hollow satisfaction as he rips the ebbing flow of your orgasm away without warning.

“Shit!” 

The noise you make at their loss is low and wounded, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes. Your body locks up so hard your stomach aches, walls fluttering as a cramp knots up behind your hips.

Your swollen clit throbs with angry sparks of pain that make you whine and wince, orgasm thoroughly ruined.

“W-Why did you…” Voice cracking around a hiccupping sob, you pitch forward into his powerful chest. “Jungkook--”

“You know why.” His reply cuts you off, chilly and brusque, while he stares at you without remorse, “I gave you a chance to change your mind.”

“But I -”

“Stop.”

Sniffling, you peer at him from beneath damp lashes.

Breathless and feral, Jungkook stands before you a vengeful god, robed in shade and shadow. It’s criminally unfair how good he looks; jaw clenched, eyes twin black holes that threaten to pull you in.

Harsh, hooded, hungry as they trace over the tear tracks cutting lines down your cheeks, the quiver of your lips. In moments like this, he’s as beautiful as Belladonna and twice as deadly.

“I don’t know why you’re even trying to sweet talk your way out of this.” 

If his glare alone wasn’t enough to curb your tongue, then the shuttered expression carved into the planes of his regal face would.

Displeasure sits heavy on his brow, tucked into the corners of his mouth like an ill-fitting mask. Then his hand is slipping between your shaking thighs once more, the backs of his knuckles dragging over your abused, messy folds.

Jungkook hums when you sigh, jolt at the touch, and says, “Now, shut up and be a good girl for me.”

It’s deliciously painful, like blowing on numb fingertips in winter. Your legs spread wider to accommodate him on instinct alone.

Head rolling back to rest against the wall, the cool stone heaven on your sweaty neck.

And then a strike, viper quick, lands on your exposed pussy. Your reprieve ripped away and smashed at your feet as the wet, sloppy sound of an open palm making contact with tender flesh almost drowns out your wounded cry.

“A-Ah!”

You flinch away from the touch, flickers of pain pulsing through your sensitive clit. Nerve endings burn with sensation. Tiny cavities pepper your field of vision, the world a blurry kaleidoscope of color through pooling tears.

It’s hard to think, harder to breathe through the lingering throb and mounting shock.

Jungkook didn’t hit you too hard (he knows your limits), though he may as well have with how hypersensitive your pussy is. And still, amid prickles of pain, fresh arousal gushes from you to soak the length of his palm.

Cooing, he says your name, his lips cradling the syllables like a precious secret as his hand rubs circles over your mound. “Are you finally going to listen to me?”

Air hisses through your teeth as his fingers dip into your entrance, and it’s all suddenly too much. You drop too far, too fast. Lost and left adrift. Small. Fragile.

Heart lurching in your chest, the bitter ache throbbing in time with your pulse. Reminding you of how empty you are.

Sobs drip from your lips like dew drops, unintelligible words frantic as they break through the great, heaving gasps, “J-Jungkook, I can’t… Please, ‘m sorr- I can’t.”

“Oh, baby. You look so pretty when you’re such a fucking mess.”

Your breath hitches.

It feels like your skin’s too small, stretched tight over your bones until you’re bursting at the seams. The slightest touch will make you shatter to pieces, scattered across the floor like shards of fine china. 

Before you spiral too far beyond his reach, Jungkook guides you back, keeping his voice low and gentle in your ear while he shushes your warbling sniffles. Affection softens his smile, his eyes dark with perverse pride.

“Stop crying,” he chides tenderly, circling your clit with a ginger thumb. “You’re fine, promise. I’m here, I’ve got you.”

Kisses wick away the last of your tears, sweep over the delicate skin of your undereye.

“You did this to yourself.” Jungkook searches your eyes for confirmation, his brows furrowed and lips pursed. “You know that, don’t you?”

You nod, albeit stiltedly.

There are always consequences when you try to give him a taste of his own medicine - some worse than others. This time, you took things a little too far.

Now your cunt’s going to suffer the consequences of your stubbornness, but maybe if you butter him up beforehand…

The bob of his Adam’s apple captures your attention, your eyes tracing over the slope of his jaw, the tick of muscle as he grits his teeth.

Gnawing on your lip, you weigh your options.

You both know you hoped this would happen when you started acting bratty. Jungkook knows your dirty thoughts and filthy fantasies, how soaked you get from the thought of being pinned down, helpless.

Forced to take everything he gives.

… It isn’t even a question worth asking.

“Didn’t catch that.” Jungkook’s lips twitch with amusement, his fingers biting into the soft fat of your hip. “Come on, you’ve gotta use your words.”

The despair gripping your throat in a vice loosens with his lighthearted tone. Wetting your lips, you take the first step towards sparring yourself a brutal punishment by apologizing.

“I know it’s my fault - and I,” you swallow the flood of saliva pooling under your tongue, “I’m sorry.” 

"Mm, apology accepted." Jungkook hums, tracing the seam of your puffy pussy. “I’m so lucky I’ve got such a good fucking girl all to myself.”

Heat sinks into the apples of your cheeks, your thighs clamping closed around his wrist. There’s no denying the needy twitch of your hips at his words. A pleased rumble vibrates through his chest and into yours.

“Yeah, you like when I call you a good girl, baby?”

You whine, your eyes rolling back and your lashes fluttering.

Heat pulses through your belly in rhythmic waves, the residual pleasure from your interrupted orgasm kindling to light with little effort. You’d been so close, your body still desperate for relief. Thoughts slow and syrupy, cunt soaked and sloppy.

“Jungkook, please - lemme cum.” You try to rock down on his fingers only for his hand to restrain your hips. ”Fuck! Promise I’ll be good this time - jus’ need to…”

He tsks, saying, “Shh, you can cum all you want.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank-”

“If,” his smile is knife sharp, his eyes full of mischief, his words honey sweet, “you keep your eyes open and on me the whole time.”

Oh.

Oh no.

You’ll be dumb and drooling, starry-eyed and stupid once he stuffs you full. The burning stretch of his fat cock buried balls deep in your gummy walls while the spongy head slams into your g-spot without mercy, your cunt milking his shaft with every gushing orgasm fucked out of you. His name a holy prayer on your tongue.

There’s no fucking way.

Jungkook knows you barely remember to breathe once he’s on top of you, let alone maintain eye contact. Your inevitable failure will taste all the sweeter when it fizzles, pops, bursts under the bite of his teeth.

“Wait, wait, wait!”

“Good luck, baby.”

Panic grips you by the throat, your eyes wide and pleading. “Jungkook-”

“You’re gonna need it.”

Well, shit.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Old Scars, New Blood 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, borderline bullying, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: Reader has accepted that she’ll never be wanted, not only by the man she’s crushed on for years, but by anyone. That is until a new player enters the game. (f!, short!reader)

Character: Lloyd Hansen, Thor Odinson

Note: Still sick but going to have to work.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

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

Love you all. Take care. 💖

With meal prep complete, you return to Lloyd’s office to find it empty. The remnants of his earlier spill remain speckled over the desk and floor. You clean it up, leaving a lemony fresh scent in your stead. While you’re at it, you tidy up the bookshelves.

You hesitate on your way to the door. You glance over your shoulder as something tickles in your head. You still don’t get why Lloyd didn’t tell you about Valhalla. For months, he hid that from you. You think about that day in the car and being left on the side of the road. Maybe he’s been planning to cut ties with you for a while.

You stare at the large iMac. It would be wrong to snoop. Even if it isn’t his redeeming quality, you’ve always been honest with Lloyd. You’re just confused. He’s never anything less than straightforward so if he’s going to fire you, why hasn’t he just pulled the trigger?

Maybe… you know too much. That sends a shiver through you. It may actually end with shots fired.

“There she is,” Lloyd interrupts your inner turmoil and you whip around to face him. He’s freshly showered and styled. You can smell the specialty oil he puts in his mustache, “the fuck are you doing in here?”

“Cleaning,” you reply quickly.

“Looks pretty fucking spotless,” he tosses keys at you and you flinch, catching them against your chest, “I need a ride.”

“Um, I can get Jackie–”

“He drives like an old man,” he retorts, spinning on his heel as he snaps his fingers, “chop, chop, kid.”

You swallow your agitation. Usually, you’re better at it. Today you just find him grating. Maybe you’re just a bit sore about him leaving you on the highway. Well, get over it, he’s not apologising.

You follow him with the keys in your hand. He’s several paces ahead of you as you scurry to keep up. His stride is tense as he opens and closes his fists.

As you come outside, you hear a whistle. Lloyd peers over and scuffs to halt as he faces Thor. The large blond bounds over, a shirt with only one button done up displaying most of his chest. He looks over Lloyd’s shoulder and his cheek dimples.

“Running away?”

“Business,” Lloyd says flatly, “I’ll be back.”

“What about my business?” Thor challenges. Lloyd doesn’t respond. “Relax,” he slaps Lloyd’s arm, “I’m ragging on you. Tonight, we will share some of your scotch, eh? Get you nice and loose.”

“Mm,” Lloyd grumbles, “we’ll see.”

“The little one prefers wine, I think,” Thor points over Lloyd’s shoulder, “oh, and she has quite the sweet tooth, eh? You must know that.”

“Whatever. She’s the assistant. Her job is to worry about what I like,” Lloyd sneers, “don’t wait up.”

He turns back towards the car and you send an apologetic smile past him. Thor smirks and winks, flicking his tongue out lasciviously. You blanch and swiftly follow Lloyd.

You still don’t believe what he said in the kitchen. Not only that he said it but that he meant it. You’re certain it’s all just a part of this pissing match between the men. Thor keeps stepping onto Lloyd’s territory, he’ll keep going till he gets bit. You don’t how much longer Lloyd can hold out.

Lloyd’s in the passenger’s seat of the SUV before you even get to the door. You open it and swing yourself in. You hate how big all these vehicles are. You shove the keys in the slot and turn the engine. You shift in the seat and slide your phone out of your pocket, placing it in the cup holder.

You check the time then the mirrors. It’s not unusual for Lloyd to head out later in the day but you didn’t have anything on the agenda. You know better than to ask questions. That’s what he liked about you, if he likes anything about you.

“Would you just fucking drive?” Lloyd growls.

You wince and shift into gear. You look behind you then ahead of you. Thor watches you as you ease into reverse. Or maybe he’s watching Lloyd…

You roll the wheel and turn towards the gate. Lloyd takes out his phone and slumps in the seat as he scrolls and taps. You steer through the gate and pull out onto the road. You don’t even know if you should ask where to go.

“Head northeast,” he says.

Right. You take his direction and turn onto the ramp onto the highway. He grumbles at his phone but says nothing else until you have to get into the exit lane. What is he up to?

You head into the city and he directs you through the main row where much of the nightlife thrives. You’ve been there many times before. He isn’t shy about his nocturnal activities. He commands you past his typical spot.

When he points you into the lot behind a Hilton, you frown. Is he that desperate to get away from Thor? You don’t say a word as you idle by the back wall.

“Right,” he doesn’t look up from his phone as he undoes his seat belt, “I’ll be a while.”

You look over at him confused. What does he mean?

“I’m sure you can keep yourself entertained,” he pokes his tongue out as he smirks at his phone. You catch the glimpse of a chat, a picture sent of a woman in a thong. You cringe and grip the wheel.

“I’ll just go back to the compound–”

“You’ll stay the fuck here,” he tears his eyes from the cell and jabs his finger at you, “you need to remember who the fuck you work for, kid.”

You say nothing as he opens the door and drops out of the SUV. You know this side of Lloyd. His ego is bruised. It happens after rough missions or when an agent gets mouthy. It’s worse now since he can’t do much about his problem. 

He slams the door behind him and you watch him march towards the entrance. You sigh and roll down the windows before you shut off the engine. There’s no use in wasting gas for who knows how long. You’re certain if you get bored, you’ll have enough time to get a coffee down the block.

You grab your phone and shuffle through several apps. You can’t focus on any of the time-eating games you keep for when you’re restless. You have nothing else to distract you. Your sister hasn’t answered the text you sent her a week ago and Lloyd is busy.

You open up your downloaded series and turn on the same show you’ve seen a dozen times before. Still, you’re not paying attention. You don’t think Lloyd is here for business. It really shouldn’t matter to you but it feels extra humiliating to have to wait outside while he does…whatever.

You turn off the show and let the car go silent. You adjust the seat to recline and close your eyes. You’re exhausted. All the chaos has got the best of you. 

Your phone vibes before you can get cozy. It’s Lloyd. You tap the preview so it expands.

‘Need lube. Ten minutes.’

You scoff. Is he serious? Your heart shrivels up as your stomach turns. He’s punishing you. Not because you did anything but because he can’t punish Thor. You’re so so tired.

You grip the wheel and stare at the phone. You wonder if he knows? Is this why he’s doing this? All these years, talking about his escapades, you just assumed it was his usual crassness. He talks like that with everyone. If he’s not boasting about killing, it’s fucking.

Either way, he knows what he’s doing. This is low. You are low.

You open up maps and search for a shop nearby. You fix the seat and pull out, driving numbly as you follow the automated voice directing you through the street. You park without paying attention and get out, nearly stumbling from the height of the SUV’s lift.

You stroll inside the shop with its blackened windows and enter with your head down. Your eyes scan furtively as you search for your goal. The task is made more difficult as the flesh toned silicon and shameless displays set you on fire.

“Hello, hon, can I help you find something?” The man behind the counter asks.

“Er,” you cross your arms, “lube.”

“Alrighty, are we looking for flavoured? Water-based? Oil?”

You blanch as he rounds the counter and strides towards a rack. You shrug and trail after him. You see a black bottle with cherries on it.

“That’s fine,” you pluck one off the shelf and quickly retreat to the counter. “Credit.”

You bring up your card on your phone and tap. The man behind the counter tries to break the tension but you’re not listening. You shove the receipt in your pocket and swipe up the bottle and leave.

Back in the truck, you have to hold back from screaming. What are you doing? You don’t need this shit. Why do you keep bending over backwards for Lloyd when you don’t have a chance? Why have you wasted a decade hoping for nothing?

Because, you don’t have any other options.

You turn the car on and roll out of the lot. You make your way back to the hotel in a haze. You check your phone. He sent the room number and nothing else. You walk into the hotel, ignoring the front desk clerk, and wait for the elevator. You step onto it and watch the doors shut.

You get off and follow the signs to the exact door plaque. You knock with your knuckles, your hand fisted around the bottle. You hear giggling. It’s more than one woman. Footsteps approach the other side.

A woman in an open robe opens the door. She has dark wavy hair and smeared lipstick. Lloyd growls in the background as you glimpse his naked ass.

“Hurry up, sugar tits,” he calls, “I’m starting to chafe.”

You shove the bottle at the woman and drop it. You don’t wait to see if she catches it. You spin on your heel and you’re gone. Your eyes fill with hot tears. Tears like acid. Tears of stupidity.

When you get back to the car, you keel over the steering wheel and heave. You don’t hate Lloyd. You hate yourself. You need to cut it out but somehow, you just can’t. He’s the worst person you know and yet, you want him so badly.

❤���‍🩹

As the sky darkens, you get out of the SUV to stretch your legs. You pace around and check the time. You don’t want to get back in the car. Instead, you wander down the street to the coffee kiosk you drove by earlier. You get an Americano and drag your feet back up the pavement.

You stand outside the SUV and sip from the cup. You chew the paper brim anxiously and look at your phone. Another car door opens and closes.

“Candy?” A man approaches.

You look up, the glow of your face making the stranger nothing more than a dark shadow, “not me,” you back up and press your phone to your chest.

“Oh, sorry,” he puts his hands up, “thought you were someone else.”

You shake your head as he turns and wanders off. You’re not entirely sure how he mistook you for a prostitute. That is what he thought, isn’t it? Candy? Sounds pretty tasty.

You get back in the SUV and lock the doors. You put your phone in the cup holder and it flashes. A message. You don’t bother reading it. You tap your fingers on the console and close your eyes, sipping from the warm cup.

A knock on the other window startles you. You turn on the light and see Lloyd peering in. He winks and tugs on the handle. You hit the locks and sit up.

He gets in and lets out a sigh, “ahh, I feel good.”

You don’t say a word as you slip your cup into the empty holder beside your phone. You start the car and press the gas. As you come to the exit, Lloyd yawns and stretches his arm between the seats, gripping yours above your shoulder.

“I’m fucking starving, let’s hit a burger joint,” he says as he rubs his stomach, “you don’t think I would be with how much I ate.”

He cackles and you bite down. You don’t understand it. He repulses you and yet there’s that sharp pang in your chest.

“You see the tits on Kasia? Fucking pert–”

You veer onto the next street and he hits the door with the motion, “hey, be fucking careful.” He shifts in his seat as he touches his crotch, “I’m tender.”

You sniff and pull into the drive through. You stop by the menu, “what do you want?”

“Get me some of that honey chicken and some rings. Extra honey sauce for the rings. Oh, and a sprite.”

“Sure,” you answer as you drive up to the speaker. You recite his order and the fuzzy response tells you to drive up to the window.

“What’s up? You’re not hungry?”

“I’m fine,” you insist.

“Aw, you on another diet,” he taunts, “bone broth?”

“No,” you answer flatly.

“I’m not sharing my rings,” he says.

“I don’t want any,” you insist.

“You’re fucking testy,” he accuses as you pay.

“I’m tired,” you utter and roll up to the pick-up.

“You’re tired? Fuck, my back is aching from all that thrusting.”

“Would you stop?” You snap before you can stop yourself, “I don’t want to hear about your dick anymore.”

He snorts and sits up straight, “excuse me, kid?”

“I don’t care,” you reach over and give a blunt thanks to the drive-thru worker as you take the paper bag. “Why don’t you shut up and eat?"

You shove the bag in his lap then take the cup and move your phone to plant it firmly in the holder. You follow through the lane and back onto the street. The silence is still and stolid around you.

“If you wanted to join in, you just had to say–”

“No,” you snip. You know he’s not serious, he’s teasing you. You’re a joke to him. “No, I don’t want that.” You grip the wheel tight and bite down until your jaw hurts, “I don’t want you.”

He inhales and blows it out heavily through his nose. The bag crinkles as he opens it and reaches inside, unleashing the smell of chicken that makes your stomach rage. You ignore the discomfort and focus on the road.

“Learn to take a fucking joke, kid,” he snickers, “maybe then, you’ll catch a dick or two.”

[vanmarkus]

Inspiration Saturday 📸

This wip is loosely based on this post of mine and based on the initial outline I expect it to total out around 20k, but I have like 3 much longer fics on my list before this, so it probably won't be written any time soon, but it wouldn't leave my mind today, so!

After a serious injury on the job, Eddie takes up light duty as the temporary Instagram Manager of the LAFD and even though he's now physically healed, he's still not ready to return to active duty. The job has its perks though; namely the new guy who joined the 118 shortly after Eddie left.

Tags and a longish snippet under the cut 💛

“Hey Diaz, sure you don’t want in on the action instead of playing around with your camera?” Buck asked, lifting his helmet a little, probably to see Eddie better in the harsh sunlight.

He had ash smudged all over his face, giving him a ragged edge that Eddie thought fit him just a little too well. His turnout coat was open, revealing just how tight his shirt hugged his body underneath.

“And what if I prefer the camera?” Eddie asked playfully. “And I told you to call me Eddie.”

“Not until you tell me what it’s short for.” Buck grinned at him teasingly and Eddie clicked the button on his camera again, to capture the way the sun hit his laugh lines; sue him, the man was gorgeous.

Buck had this weird thing for nicknames and though Eddie found it kind of endearing, he didn’t really understand why Buck didn’t just ask the team what his name was if he wanted to know so badly — maybe it was part of some kind of game that Eddie never learned the rules for.

“You know this year’s calendar is coming up.” Eddie said, lowering his camera back down to his chest.

“Yeah? Are you the one shooting it?” Buck stepped in closer, still holding the jaws of life in his hands while everyone continued packing up behind him.

“Why? Would that make you wanna do it more or less?”

Buck chuckled lightly, before swiping a gloved finger across the tip of his nose, leaving yet another black mark there.

“I don’t know. Am I gonna be the only one taking my clothes off?” He raised his eyebrows suggestively and Eddie only had time to roll his eyes jovially before he was cut off by Hen.

“Stop riling up the poor guy and help us put these away, I’m starving!”

“I’m n-not rili—” Buck stammered, all his earlier bravado suddenly gone.

“Come on Buckaroo, it’s lunch time.” Chimney chimed in as well, walking past them and dropping his medkit into the back of the ambulance.

Buck looked back at Eddie and shrugged sheepishly. “Duty calls.”

“Yeah... I gotta upload these too.” He lifted his camera with a sigh, indicating the pictures he just took.

“Well, I hope you got my good side.” Buck smiled at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes and Eddie just grinned back at him.

As if you have a bad side, he thought to himself.

“Buck, come on!” This time it was Bobby who yelled over, so they both knew that they ran out of time.

“Coming!” Buck called back, still not taking his eyes off of Eddie. “Take care, Diaz.” He added gently before he finally turned around and jogged away, leaving Eddie standing in the middle of the road, watching as the engine and the ambulance pulled away.

“Yeah, you too, Buckley.” He mumbled to no one in particular.

I was tagged by @disasterbuckdiaz and @watchyourbuck thank you mwuah 💛

✨no pressure tagging: @malewifediaz @spagheddiediaz @daffi-990 @jeeyuns @ladydorian05 @steadfastsaturnsrings @eowon @heartshapedvows @nmcggg @rainbow-nerdss @jamespearce9-1-1 @eddiebabygirldiaz @theotherbuckley @thewolvesof1998 @fortheloveofbuddie @evanbegins

[naughtybg3confessions]

(Could not fit the full confession in the image, read the rest below)

Imagine, if you will, Gale settling into a comfortable life after the game's events. He's happily married to the love of his life, they share many decadent, indulgent meals, many a glass of fine wine, and long, lazy days lounging in their shared bed, enjoying one another- no more hiking, fighting, and no more of that aching, yawning hunger in his chest.

And, yes, eventually, slowly, that comfort starts to show. His clothes start fitting a bit different. His contours soften, and his body feels a touch heavier now than he'd like. And while there's of course nothing wrong with gaining weight, he does feel a touch displeased with himself about it- maybe a bit embarrassed, insecure even, that years have passed, he's older now, and he no longer looks the exact same way he did when his spouse fell in love with him. He has more grey hairs, more little wrinkles, and that new paunch he doesn't like... It's overall making him feel rather self-conscious. (Especially if his partner looks like they've barely aged a day, meanwhile his own aging body is a sure sign of his fall from Mystra's grace.)

His spouse is, of course, practically salivating at the sight of him now. Sure, he was always beautiful, and their love didn't change, only deepened, but the slight softness around his hips... the little dip, as his waist bleeds into his belly... the plush of his thighs, his chest...! Maybe Gale would try to dismiss it, or even conceal himself a bit more from their eyes, but as soon as they notice his discomfort with his appearance, there's no way they'd allow their gorgeous, perfect man to continue to think himself ragged over completely unfounded insecurity.

If only he'd let them, they'd kiss and caress every part of his body until he's panting and flushed, they'd leave love bites on his soft stomach whenever possible, and they'd spend hours just alternating between sucking him greedily and moaning like a whore around mouthfuls of his cock, biting his soft inner thighs until they're bright red and covered in marks, and riding him to his peak over and over again while praising him breathlessly with words of ardent worship: for being such an incredible man, being so perfect for them, and being so godsdamned hot that they can't possibly control themselves around him.

There should be more body worship fics, and while I have one in my WIPs, I just get too horny partway through writing to finish it proper. :'(

[swifty-fox]

yo you post your fics on AO3? if so please share your user babe

omg yes I do! you can check my swiftywrites tag but

Masters of the Air:

Kingdom for a Kiss - 104k Long-form Postwar exploration of Clegan's relationship and their trauma. Explicit.

Gale takes a deep breath to compose himself, tucks the jagged angry edges of himself back to face inwards. “You said you would write.”

understanding in a plane crash: WIP (5 parter, three parts up) Prequel fic to Kfak, as told from John Brady's perspective as a POW

“The thing you can't quite put your finger on about DeMarco,” He says, “is that you want him to fuck you til you cry. Sorry to spoil the game for you.”

Brady stares at him and stares at him, alone in the Base’s Chapel and rosary halfway finished. He thinks he might throw up, or maybe strangle Curt Biddick and then throw up.

“Lock it up, Johnny, they’re gonna see you bleeding it all over soon.”

press your tired hands against my lips darling: Finished. 3K word re-write of the Bucks final conversation in the cockpit. Loose prequel to KfaK but with some minor inaccuracies Mostly SFW

Gale takes John's hand, brings the scarred knuckles to his mouth and holds it there, turns their hands over til he can place his lips to the pulse point at John’s wrist. It’s not a kiss, there’s no press or pursing of lips, but tender nevertheless, intimate in a way that makes Gale shudder. Cautious of whether John will even allow this.  

“I ain’t prayed in a long time,” Gale says whisper-soft. He feels John’s pulse skip a beat, “but I prayed every day you were safe and alive and coming back to me. Every morning, and every night.”  He lets himself cry again, tears hidden against the scarred skin of John's hand. 

Little Beast: Ongoing. Porn with a bit of Plot modern au of Burnout John and Priest Gale. total of 30k of them fucking and arguing. Three Parts so far. NSFW to the max

“It’s such a shame you’re cooped up in here like Rapunzel there Buck.” John drawls lazily. He makes a show of looking around “Is Mother Gothel nearby?” 

Buck has to fight back against another smile, wouldn't give him the satisfaction or the encouragement “Father Huglin is away at a conference today.”

“All alone without a chaperone.” 

The Old Guard:

in another life maybe you and i would be walking down an aisle in white: Finished Joe/Nicky (18K) Art Professor Joe & Art Conservator Nicky reconnect after ten years. This one is uh. Sad. Mind the tags. It's an incredibly personal piece to me and probably one of my favorites .NSFW

Dear Joe, you have always been the brave one and I wished every moment for even a drop of that. Perhaps that is why I claimed you as mine, out of a desperate need to have even an ounce of what made you, you. I desired you but I would not, could not ever let you in. I loved you and kept you and hurt you, keelhauled you against the impenetrable ship that was my heart and when the ragged pieces were left behind I still asked of you your silence.  

It is no wonder our love was left in bloody tatters on that lawn. 

Make me a Saint: Finished (8k) Nicky and Nile mete out some justice to a corrupt priest. NSFW for violence. Mind the tags. As of right now, my most popular fic

“ I was a priest before your bible was even written old man ” Nickys voice thunders in the tiny room, crackling over the walls like fire. Even Nile flinches at the sudden volume. He takes another step forwards, bracketing Father Marcus’ arthritic twisted feet with his own.

His voice does not shake.

“I preached the word of God before your language was even invented . I have known the church for longer than you can comprehend. I have seen great men and evil men take up the word of the Lord and I have seen them all rendered dust. I have seen you and I have judged you, Father Marcus. The Church may practice restraint but I do not. The diocese may have turned a blind eye I but I do not. The courts may have found you innocent but I do not . 

Calcification of a God: Finished (4K) Nicky has a lil Menty B and then Joe gives him a bath. Mostly SFW if I recall correctly

“I think,” Nicky says “If I were God, it was you I modeled humanity after. I think if I were God I would have left my throne in heaven to walk beside you and I would have been richer for it”

Yusuf chuckles “Death makes you sentimental my darling.”

Wolfstar:

Oh Captain, My Captain!: Finished, 1.6k Drabble of Wolfstar cuddling and reciting poetry. SFW

He cups the back of Remus’s head, presses him further into the safety of his body with a hand on his mismatched, misaligned rib cage and rocks them slightly. Remus grunts slightly. Sirius hides the teeth of his smile against the follow of his own neck and allows the curtain of his hair to cover them both for a moment. He listens to the two of them breath, always slightly out of sync, out of rhythm. Remus quick and labored, Sirius racing to catch up only to find himself charging ahead only to drop back behind when he tries to slow down. 

“ If I vibrate with vibrations other than yours, must you conclude that my flesh is insensitive ” That doesn’t fit quite right, so he tries another, brow furrowed and fingers tracing the knobs of Remus’ spine like the knots on a tree, with reverence and a little hint of greed. 

[snowywinterevenings]

ooh i’d love to hear about After the War for the wip game?

So in this one Cody is injured a little worse on Anaxes and then Yerbana and thus is healing in the Jedi temple when Order 66 occurs. He and a handful of younglings and padawans have to escape together, and eventually he has to reunite with the love of his life.

Cody hit the ground hard as something slammed into his side, and despite the spike of pain that seared through his hips and leg and the ringing in his ears as his head impacted the ground, he managed to keep still as blue plasma hovered over his throat. He heard cries from the younglings behind him and tried to make out the words that Sylvi was speaking, but everything around him seemed distant. He had been running too long on adrenaline, and it was clearly catching up to him.

The weight on his chest subsided, and he coughed, sucking ragged breaths into his lungs, the pain forcing his mind back to Anaxes before Sylvi’s face hovered back into his field of vision and dragged him back to the present. The being that had tackled him slowly resolved into a less blurry form, and he saw it was another padawan, a Pantoran boy who had likely thought Cody was leading his peers to their doom rather than leading them as far away from the temple as they could get. Sylvi and the boy helped him to sit up, and he took a few moments to breathe, his body screaming at each minute movement.

“Sorry. Thought you were one of them.”

“S’all right, but we need… to keep going.” Cody wasn’t sure how well he could fight if they happened upon more of his brothers, but he knew that he’d do everything in his power to keep his gaggle of younglings and padawans safe.

“There’s an exit not far from the end of this service tunnel. We should be able to sneak out if it’s not too heavily guarded.”

[lordgrimwing]

WIP -- Foresight

From a poll game I did a bit ago and am finally getting around to finishing. An excerpt from the 300-word addition to Forsight:

Gil-galad rested a hand on Elrond’s shoulder when the boy tried to step back. He offered a reassuring, paternal smile. He hadn’t needed to bother; Elrond’s eyes were fixed firmly on the ground. The king sighed and looked up again to greet his head physician. “Ereinion,” Gaerion said, drying his hands on a rag as he came out from behind the curtain shielding the main patient care area from the tent’s entrance, “did I forget about a meeting again?” His golden hair was wrapped up and out of the way at the back of his head, held in place with long wooden pens.  Beside him, Elrond hunched his shoulders, muscles tense with anxiety. This constant fear of everyone new must be exhausting, Gil-galad thought. A twinge of regret for forcing him to meet the healer wormed its way into his conscious, but he brushed it away with the silent reminder that letting Elrond stay hidden in the little tent he shared with his brother would not help him overcome whatever terrors living with the Kinslayers engendered in him. It was his duty to see that his ward was cared for, and that included knowing where to find help if he were injured.

[wannab-urs]

WIP Wednesday

Doing my own thing with WIP Wednesday this week and combining a couple typical tag games.

Step one: Post snippets of the fics you're working on (can be a summary if there's no snippet)

Loser, Baby - Dieter x Frankie

“Frankie, man, I just feel like such a fucking loser. I cannot get my shit together,” Dieter whines into the phone. He drums his fingers on the table top in front of him, contemplating ordering another whiskey.  “News flash, Dee. You are a loser,” Frankie’s reply crackles through the speaker. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” “You’re calling me from a bar. You are literally addicted to cocaine, smoke too much weed, and rarely go more than 24 hours without getting piss drunk. What do you want me to say?” “I don’t know, man.” Dieter trails off. He drains the last few ice cubes in the tumbler. “Reassure me? Make me feel better? You’re my fucking sponsor.” “We’re both losers, Dee. We met in NA for fucks sake, it’s not like I’ve always had my shit together.”  “Will you come get me?” Dieter’s voice is pathetically whiny. He feels stupid for even needing to call, and now he’s asking for this.  “Course. Give me 15. Don’t order another drink.” The line goes dead and Dieter saunters up to the bar to order another and wait for Frankie. 

Din/Ez Mandalorian rewrite (to be titled later)

(this would be the end of episode/chapter 1) “Well. They said 40 years old.” “This does look to be our target,” the droid quips.  IG raises his blaster as if to shoot the sleeping man.   “No. We'll bring him in alive.” “The commission was quite specific. The asset was to be terminated.” He raises his blaster again, but Din is faster. Before the IG unit can even register his movement, there’s a hole in its head.  The bounty is sleeping on the floor, a pile of ragged blankets serving as a bed. He’s missing an arm, the stump wrapped in dirty bandages. Din toes him with his boot, keeping his blaster trained on him. The man doesn’t wake up. Din kicks him a bit harder and he still doesn’t stir. He picks the man up and heaves him over his shoulders. He carries him out to the blurg Kuill let him keep and ties him to its back like a saddlebag.  It’s a long walk back to the ship.

Step two: put them in a poll and let people vote on which one you should work on

Step three: Every vote is one minute you put on a timer to work on that fic (ex. 15 votes = 15 minutes of writing)

Additionally, if you want to pick my brain about either one, I have a decent bit of lore planned out. Feel free to shoot me an ask or drop a comment <3

Tags: @chronically-ghosted @sp00kymulderr @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @burntheedges @beskarandblasters @pedgito @covetyou @jupiter-soups @toxic-seduction @futuraa-free @nerdieforpedro @kennysbellbottoms @valoxwayward @qveerthe0ry @rhoorl @party-hearses @rebel-held @dancingtotuyo @sin-djarin @littlegrungegirlaf @perotovar @javierpenaispunk @magpiepills @whatsnewalycat @schnarfer @heareball @always-andromeda @bitchwitch1981 @mothandpidgeon @all-the-way-down-here

[moonlight-prose]

── wip wednesday

thank you for the tag @sweetpascal! i'm jumping between two logan fics today so i'll drop a snippet from each

right where you left me ch. 2

Wade's snoring echoed through the thin walls as he stood there, his body begging for a bit of sleep. Even if his mind refused to shut off. Images of you played through his head on a loop. The past was shadowed in pain, memories dipped in a venom he once wished would kill him eventually. Yet seeing you yesterday - a version that remained untouched by the depravity of what already happened to him - launched him back into a time that never seemed to be very far behind him.

"You weren't there! And they needed you."

Silver ebbed from his knuckles as he faced the window - eyes shut and chest heaving. There was no question the sweat came from the humidity in the air. The cold chill along his spine however stemmed from you.

"You're not the Wolverine Logan. You're just a disappointment."

He fought the snarl that worked it's way up his throat. A heavy pounding began to form at the front of his head. A drum he couldn't tear himself away from.

"Live with that."

fuel the pyre of your enemies

"Tell him it wasn't my fault!" You bit down on the inside of your cheek until copper flooded your mouth. "Tell him to let me go!"

His chuckle wasn't of amusement but disdain. Squeezing his hand, he effectively cut off the man's airflow as he turned to you with a soft grin. All the anger, all the seething hatred, would never be faced at you. Logan felt his heart ache at the fear in your eyes - the blatant shakiness of your hands as you hugged the blade against your chest for protection.

He made you feel safe in ways that no one else could. Perhaps that's why you fell for him so quickly.

"What do you say baby?" His voice was hoarse from shouting, ragged enough to curl around your heart and appease the anxiety growing there. "Should I let him go?"

"No." You knew your voice shook yet you said the word anyways with narrowed eyes and a bitter heart.

i'm so happy i finally managed to catch this ask game on an actual wednesday!

tagging the lovelies: @eupheme @joelsgreys @rae-gar-targaryen @pennyserenade @superhoeva

[donotnomi]

Find the Word

Thanks @middlingmay for the tag! I'm glad but also paralyzed by anxiety because it's my first-ever post about MOTA after months of tentative lurking, and I feel like I'm going to mess things up.

Rules: Share snippets of your work containing each of the words the previous poster selected for you (optional addition: if you can't find the word in your WIPs, or you simply don't have any WIPs, you can just write a sentence around the word)

I still have not written a single line from my MOTA WIPs because...this fandom is a little intimidating, so many talented writers. But I'll try.

My Words: god, mine, night, doll

Your Words: blonde, sun, booze, luck *

God

From a WIP tentatively titled The Letter

Marge, If you're reading this, it means I succeeded in bringing your man safely home from the stalag. If the God you're probably thanking right now truly exists and isn't the sadist he seems to be, I'm still in Germany, lifeless under its merciless sky now dominated only by clouds.

Mine

From a WIP tentatively titled The Animal Kingdom

As the weight of Meatball in his arms became more evident, so did the awareness of his tactical error. He had lifted the dog in an attempt to show Jon how foolish his desire to belong to him was, whether in human or animal form. If he had become a Creature, if he had become a horse as he had said, would his endless desire have been fulfilled by being brushed, cared for, fed, and ridden by Gale? Ridden... Gale shook his head, blushing a bit as Meatball licked his right cheek. He risked a glance in John's direction. He saw an infinite fondness in his eyes, masking his recurring thought, his sole obsession: I want you to be mine. So much so that he wished he could be in Meatball's place, licking his cheek, fur and all.

Night

From a WIP tentatively titled The Letter

Marge, I didn't follow through with what I warned you against, and now I'm filled with regret. Your Gale, my Buck, being the man he is, wouldn't have denied it to me out of sympathy or desperation for my sanity. The temptation to have that possibility right there every night was agonizing, but the thought of accepting his pity in order to take it was unbearable.

Doll

From a WIP tentatively titled The Animal Kingdom

John no longer called him doll. John was no longer John, consumed by the proximity of the stalag, confused by how Gale kept him at a distance. Gale no longer felt like himself, his humanity increasingly resembling a ragged doll, the novelty of his animal mutation advancing cell by cell. With every millimeter conquered, that human part of him defined by his love for John disappeared. He envied John's reckless attitude in letting his creeping madness overflow. All his energy was focused on imprisoning it within, on preserving the humanity he had left, that still bound him to John. He had no strength left to take care of John, who was slipping further into madness. If he had reached out to him, that single effort would have caused him to fall as well. He could do nothing but stand on the edge of the abyss, watching John fall.

Not sure who's already been tagged or who wants to play along, so feel free to continue the game.

[space-writes]

hello (again) writeblr! i decided to make a new intro that has all my current wips on it, since i have way more than when i first started out on here.

about me

I go by Space, my pronouns are they/he, and I’m in my third decade of existence, which is absolutely wild. I’ve been writing for most of it, so I like to think I’m pretty decent

I write mostly fantasy and erotica (sometimes at the same time), both original and fanfiction, and all of it's queer

You can find my work on my AO3 here, crossposted to my neocities here, and under my snippets tag

I’m open to tag and ask games, and my inbox is currently open to anything as well. I don’t always reply the fastest, but I’ll get to it eventually! (I don’t take part in chain asks, so please don’t send me them)

I use obsidian.md for all my writing, and it’s my favourite notes app ever, so I also talk about that occasionally. The tag for it is here, and I’m hoping to write some more showcases/tutorials this year!

my main goal is to actually finish some damn books and also to inflict my OC brainrot upon people. so far the second one is the only thing that’s actually happened, but i live in hope

My current wips are Chronicles of Valloroth (Renegade Prince being book one), Obedience, Obsession, and claws—summaries and links for all four are under the cut!

this is my writing sideblog, you can find my main @thespacelizard, and i follow/like from there

tag directory is here

current wips

Chronicles of Valloroth

⚔ Genre: Fantasy Adventure

⚔ Features: Queer cast, found family, A Whole Entire Dragon, magical mishaps, The Mere Concept of Doing The Right Thing, a grumpy assassin, a sparkly mercenary, knock-off tieflings, a handsome prince (he’s gay), more banter than your average dungeons and dragons campaign

⚔ Status: Book One: First draft completed, re-drafting in-progress || Books Two & Three: outlined

⚔ One Sentence Summary (Book One): A runaway prince seeks freedom in a new world and must find a way to convince a rag-tag group to defeat an ancient dragon, all whilst he is being hunted by a band of mercenaries and an infamous assassin.

⚔ Series Tag: valloroth blogging

claws

🩸 Genre: Queer Horror

🩸 Features: teacher/student relationship (university edition), toxic romance, gender fuckery, broken identity, demonology, murder, self-harm, obsession, stalking, infidelity, a lot of blood, pact-based magic system, corruption, jealousy, eldritch entities, love is a wound, body horror, attempted suicide, and a little bit of arachnophilia

🩸 Status: First draft complete!

🩸 One Sentence Summary: A young student’s obsession with his demonology teacher sparks a twisted romance that draws him to the limits of his humanity—and into the web of an eldritch horror.

🩸 Series Tag: wip: claws

Obedience

💜 Genre: Erotic Romance, D&D fanfiction (original characters, Forgotten Realms setting & loose 5E ruleset)

💜 Features: a variety of BDSM scenarios, one closed off wizard dom, one enthusiastic nerdy sub, weird uses for dnd spells, a painful amount of pining, somehow; worldbuilding, emotional slow burn, as much self indulgence as I can possibly fit in a fanfic series

💜 Status: Arcs 1-3 are complete (read on AO3 here, or my neocities here). The first book of Arc 4, The Perils of Wanting is currently being posted bi-monthly here. The second book of Arc 4, A Question of Trust, is on its second draft.

💜 One Sentence Summary: A D/s M/M series featuring two wizard boys, the kinky magic they get up to, and the feelings they definitely don’t have for each other.

💜 Series Tag: obedience fic blogging (it began on my main, so the tag there has more snippets)

Obsession

🕷 Genre: War of the Spider Queen/Forgotten Realms fanfiction, also Erotica, Horror and a smidge of Dark Romance

🕷 Features: OC/canon, a nightmare transmasc wizard boy, obsession, stalking, jealousy, violent impulses, dubious consent, possessiveness, evil gender dysphoria, incest, gore, the inherent horror of Having a Body, and occasionally actual school things happening at Sorcere

🕷 Status: Ongoing serial, which you can read on AO3 here, or my neocities here

🕷 One Sentence Summary: Pharaun Mizzrym is everything to Vizaeth Thaezyr. He’ll do anything for him—even if Pharaun doesn’t know it yet.

🕷 Series Tag: obsession fic blogging (it also began on my main, so check the tag there for additional content!)

[kkrazy256]

"Working" for the wip guessing game!

Send me a word, if it’s in my wip document I’ll answer your ask with the sentence that it appears in

“I could’ve let him do the surgery.” Even as Remedy says it out loud, Fox can see his lips twitch into a sneer at the very idea of it.  “Let him, let him experience,” the words start getting stuck as his voice turns breathy and lost.  “How fucking desperate and useless it felt.” His eyes are looking past the nonexistent birds and the nonexistent fountain water. A breeze whispers through, and Fox thinks he can smell death and antiseptics. The drips of water trickle away to muffled orders being shouted, blinding lights, ragged breathing, and metal tools clinking.  Fox blinks away the battlefield; Remedy has his head buried in his hands now, muttering the rest of his words in a flurry of half-wretched shudders. “I could’ve let him do the surgery. Made him do it. No stopping. You can't stop, you're not allowed to. Working nonstop on a lost cause until they die on your table firsthand. Just like how he made me—” 

[nutcasewithaknife]

for the WIP game: Get loved, idiot!

Oh this is the oldest and least-close-to-finishing fic of them all! In short, it's the angsty post-canon I started writing like 2 days after finishing the show. The original premise is that meeting at the beach, difang find Li Lianhua's white cape around a stranger's corpse washed up on the beach. They set off along the coast looking for Li Lianhua, and Fang Duobing is the one who's actually searching for a living man. Di Feisheng is already mourning Li Xiangyi, but he can't bring himself to dissuade Fang Duobing from looking. So instead he's going to make sure Fang Duobing doesn't run himself any more ragged than he already has. But then they do end up finding Li Lianhua, miraculously alive yet awfully close to death, and do everything they can to heal him. Things get very very sad before they get a bit better.

The point of it was to be a sort of character introspection of all three of them, especially of Li Lianhua, and see how they deal with the inevitable and painful emotional conflict of Li Lianhua's decision to leave vs. Difang's stubbornness about saving him. It needs some massive editing because my understanding of each character has changed a lot from those first few weeks, and I keep hopping between a whole bunch of endings for it ;-;

A (long) difang snippet from it:

By the fifth day of their journey, Fang Duobing figured out that Di Feisheng was no longer searching for Li Lianhua, but mourning him. 

That stung too, at first. Every day they searched for Li Lianhua, and Fang Duobing wanted to ask why he was still looking if he was already mourning. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He watched Di Feisheng search thoroughly, even if he was no longer expecting anything to come of it. He watched him put just as much effort into looking after the two of them. 

That night, like the ones before, Fang Duobing couldn’t sleep. He wasn’t alone; Di Feisheng always simply lay in bed all night, meditating, sleeping fitfully, or just awake. Fang Duobing couldn’t stomach it. He would sit outside till dawn instead, and breathe in as much air as he could so it wouldn’t feel so awfully suffocating. 

That night, unlike any other night before, Di Feisheng stopped him before he could step out.

“We should rest well,” he said. 

“It’s pointless to try,” Fang Duobing answered.

“We should try anyway.” 

Cruelty rose easily to Fang Duobing’s tongue when he was stretched thin. Easy for you to say, he wanted to tell him. You’ve given up and left me alone. Instead, he walked over to Di Feisheng’s bed and said, “Alright.”

He looked up for only a moment before shifting further in, lifting a corner of his blanket. Fang Duobing got in. They lay facing each other, and he was determined to show Di Feisheng how useless it was to try. He didn’t bother hiding any of the listlessness or the despair that crept into his heart stronger every night. 

It was incredible, how alone he suddenly felt once more, even with Di Feisheng right there. An accusation rose to his lips again, and stalled, again. Wasn’t Di Feisheng closer to Li Lianhua? Hadn’t they known each other longer? Weren’t they excellent at leaving him out and scheming and gossipping together? Why would he give up so easily, then?

“Tell me about him.” The words stumbled out of Fang Duobing without much thought. “The Li Xiangyi you knew.”

Di Feisheng stared for a moment, then closed his eyes. His throat bobbed on a swallow. “It’s late.” 

“Tell me. What was it like a decade ago?” In answer, Di Feisheng shifted, making to turn over, turn his back to him. How dare he. Fang Duobing grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back around. “Tell me.”

“It’s pointless,” Di Feisheng snapped, glaring properly for the first time in days. “Do you think I knew him any better? If you want more of him to miss, I have nothing.” It pricked him sharp and hard, for some reason. That wasn’t it at all, though. He hadn’t asked about Li Lianhua. He had plenty to miss anyways. What he wanted…

“I’m asking about you,” Fang Duobing said, and watched the anger switch to nonplussed silence. “We’re here together, aren’t we? Don’t I have the right to ask you who you’re here for?”

For a long time, neither spoke. Fang Duobing wanted to give up on it, he was so exhausted. But somehow it was even more exhausting to wonder why Di Feisheng was like this. To wonder how he was hurt. It was hard to do this, hard to find comfort with and care for someone he didn’t yet understand.

“Tell me something,” Fang Duobing breathed. “Anything.”

Di Feisheng looked away and down, lashes long and dark against his face. Slowly, he turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling instead. “Before the battle at Donghai, I lost to him. Twice. It was a close match each time, but he won.”

“Donghai wasn’t your first battle?”

The corner of Di Feisheng’s mouth turned up, almost a smile. “Nobody else knew. It would’ve made a mess of things, with us being the heads of opposing sects.”

“But you had to have your battle, didn’t you?” Fang Duobing almost smiled too, at the thought of it these two legendary men, as young as him and sneaking out for clandestine battles with the one who was supposed to be their biggest foe. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

“No,” he said, and Fang Duobing wasn’t sure if that was an agreement or not. Di Feisheng turned his head and looked at him properly again. It wasn’t a look Fang Duobing was used to seeing, even if it felt familiar. Suspicion? Curiosity? 

“What do you want?” Di Feisheng asked him in a low voice, and Fang Duobing immediately knew. This was the sort of look A-Fei wore while they’d searched for Li Lianhua. Nothing as distant as suspicion or curiosity, it was just that he was worried for Fang Duobing.

For the first time in days, Fang Duobing felt the sting of tears behind his eyes. He shut them and curled into himself. A few seconds later, an arm slipped slowly and steadily around his shoulders. It was embarrassingly easy to give in. He shuffled closer and clung back, hiding his face in his collar and taking comfort in the steady beat of his heart. He was not alone. He was not alone. Li Lianhua had left them to each other, after all. 

Neither of them slept. But they stayed like that, together, till the break of dawn. It was easier to breathe here too, easier than it was alone in the open night. It didn’t matter if Di Feisheng had no hope left; Fang Duobing could have enough of it for both of them. And if he ever ran out… he had someone to go back to, now.

By the end of the first week, he forgave Di Feisheng for mourning so soon.