ivymarquis

[ivymarquis]

here it is. i've been pecking away at it for ages and now i am releasing it onto the world so i can get it out of my brain. unedited with an abrupt ending, per usual.

i'm not sorry.

content warnings are in the tags.

you're trying to decide if you have the stomach to take on the twisty double loop of the megahurricanrana when the deep voice of a stranger murmurs something into your ear.

"you like rides, do ya?"

hot breath fans the side of your face, and it takes your nose a solid second to register the acrid smell of the lit cigarette dangling between the thin lips that are far, far too close to you.

with a startled yelp you jump back to get a look at who's speaking. standing there is a clown in a wifebeater and suspenders, face painted stark white except for the grey smudged along his jawline, the black around his eyes, and the perfectly circular red dot on the end of his crooked, clearly broken nose. you can't tell if he was trying to be creepy when he put his face paint on today, but in your humble opinion, he definitely succeeded.

"well?" the clown steps in closer, light from a nearby ring-toss game illuminating his face more clearly, and you can almost get an idea of what he looks like under the paint. thick greasepaint only covers so much- even in the warm glow of the carnival attractions you can still see the indents of scars and pock marks littering his face under the stark white, as well as the scruff of his beard. blonde eyelashes are prominent against the thick layer of black paint surrounding them, and the oppressive summer heat has sloughed off a lot of the paint on his forehead, the sweat on his hairline looking almost milky.

dark eyes bore into you while he waits for your reply with a smirk that's almost as crooked as his busted nose. you can't imagine someone as big as him squeezing into a tiny little car, or making balloon animals, or getting sprayed in the face by a giant flower. he's doesn't strike you as a regular clown who's specifically here to be silly and entertain kids, it's almost like he's just some carnival worker who happens to be in facepaint and comically large shoes.

upon reflection- you did see a haunted house attraction when you and your friends first arrived at the carnival. maybe that's where he belongs.

"oh, uh, yeah." you finally reply, crossing your arms over your chest a little defensively. he seems to not only notice, but delight in it, and that crooked smirk grows into a gnarled, twisted smile.

"yeah?" he takes a drag of his cigarette, the cherry crackling orange with the inhale. "what kind of rides do you like?"

a mother makes a face at the clown's cigarette as she quickly ushers her kids past the two of you, muttering something to herself about leaving a bad review on yelp.

"i dunno, normal ones." you deflect as you scan the crowd for your friends, but you can't seem to find any of them in the throng of bodies that flow around the different booths and rides. shit, did they wander off and not notice they left you behind? again?

"y'bein' real bloody rude, you know that?" the clown asks, head tilted as he crosses his thick, muscled arms over his broad chest, mirroring you. he doesn't sound mad, but more amused than anything. as if he finds your reaction funny, somehow.

still, the accusation of rudeness activates something in your hind brain, conjuring up thoughts of your grandmother's disappointed face.

you wince.

"i- what? no, i didn't mean to- sorry, i just-"

"i'm just out 'ere, a professional tryin' t'do my job, 'elp out a payin' customer figure out what attraction would suit 'er best, and i'm bein' ignored and dismissed, like some second class citizen." he slowly starts to raise his voice over the sounds of bells, buzzers, and screams of joy from nearby rides, garnering glancing stares from passersby. you can feel the embarrassment of looking like a dickhead burn at your face as your shoulders hunch up to your ears.

meanwhile, the clown just smiles, clearly pleased with himself as your body threatens to combust from humiliation. your shoulders are almost at your ears, and it isn't the summer heat that's making your face feel like it's burning.

"sorry, sorry, i, uh. i like fast rides. i like it when there's something unexpected to it, it's kind of scary and exciting. that's why i was looking at, uh-" you point towards the megahurricanrana, but the clown doesn't even bother glancing at it. he just gives you a blatant once-over instead, taking one last, long drag of his cigarette before he crushes it under his boot and steps in closer to you.

"i got a better ride f'you than that, sweet'eart. make you scream y'lungs out and beg f'more when it's over. come with me, i'll show ya." he adjusts his dick through his baggy trousers and winks. you quickly glance around to see if anyone else saw that- but no one else seemed to notice.

oh.

"seriously?" you whisper, completely dumbstruck.

"wot, you think you're too good f'it?" you can tell it's half a joke, and it actually does make you stop and think. why the fuck shouldn't you have a sexy little adventure when your friends ditched you at this run-down carnival? clown paint aside, the guy's your type- tall, broad shouldered, and barrel chested.

yeah, okay. why not?

"no, just- how many tickets is it? i only have twelve left." you tease, making a show of checking your bag. the clown chuckles, and it's a deep, pleased sound that spider-crawls up your spine and makes you shudder in anticipation.

oh, shit, you're really doing this, huh?

"oh yeah?" he steps in even closer, eyes boring into yours. "tell you wot- it's on me. that's 'ow much i want you t'ride this."

he slings a thick, muscled arm over your shoulder, reeling you in. it's not until he's got you pressed firmly against his side that you finally smell him- a pungent mix of body odor, cigarettes, sweat, and greasepaint. the wrinkle of your nose is reflexive, as is the way you lean into him anyway, enjoying the feeling of being blatantly coveted like this with his hand on your ass and a triumphant smirk on his heavily painted face.

the clown leads you through a maze of trailers and picnic tables, seemingly showing you off on his arm as he takes you further and further away from where you know you're allowed to be. the lighting tapers off as you're led away from the games and attractions, the shadows between trailers getting longer and darker the further you walk. it's as if there's a warm glow around the carnival, one whose protective light you've stepped out of as you traipse through the shadows between trailers.

a man that you recognize from a poster advertising 'the flying garricks' wolf whistles in your direction from his seat at what seems to be an impromptu poker game, and it makes you duck your head a little in a fit of self-consciousness.

maybe fucking the carnival clown you just met is a bad idea.

it suddenly hits you that you've let a stranger lead you far, far away from the relative safety of the crowd, away from where you friends might find you.

"uh, i don't think i should be here-" your voice squeaks out. the clown rounds on you, stepping in front without letting go of his hold on you.

"sure you can, sweet'eart. you're with me." he coos, stamping out his cigarette and walking backwards, pulling you forwards with a solid arm looped behind your waist. your traitorous feet keep following his lead, letting him pull you towards some dumpsters that smell of stale popcorn.

"i- i don't even know your name-" the words trip out of your mouth, a clumsy excuse to back out.

"it's simon. as in 'simon says just a little further, now'..."

"i just- the signs back there said 'employees onl-'"

"don't tell me you're shy oll of a sudden." the clown cuts you off, voice taunting as he slowly backs you into a dumpster. "after oll that teasin', followin' me back somewhere private, don't tell me that now you want to walk away?"

"no, sorry, i just got nervous. i don't, uh, normally do this sort of thing." self-consciousness and embarrassment flares up, threatening to choke off your words. you feel like a silly, scared girl who go in over her head in an attempt to feel grown and independent.

"oh? you mean you don't go 'round from carnival to carnival huntin' down clowns to fuck?" he teases, leaning in closer. "well, lucky me, then, gettin' t'be your exception."

he reaches down and squeezes at the obvious bulge in his trousers, the loud 'haw-hee!' of a bicycle horn loudly ringing out as he does. with a sly wink, he pulls the horn out from behind his back, immediately sending you into a fit of giggles.

for some reason, that dumb little gag seems to completely dissolve your anxiety. he's just playing around, trying to make you laugh, trying to make you feel good. and isn't what this is about? the pursuit of doing something a little wild and out of the ordinary just to feel good?

"ain't nothin' serious, sweet'eart. just 'avin' some fun, aren't we?" he leans in close, face less than an inch from yours, mouth so close you can feel the breath of his words on your lips and smell the ghost of cigarettes past. for some reason, it actually works to soothe your anxiety a bit. after all, he's right- it is just a bit of fun, isn't it? that's what you came to this carnival for in the first place- well, not sex, necessarily, but carefree fun and enjoyment.

"yeah." you breathe.

"yeah." he bumps his nose against yours, and before you can fully process the thought 'did he just smudge his paint on my face', he's kissing you, playfully sucking at your lip with a pleased little hum vibrating against the thin skin.

despite the acrid taste of the paint and stale cigarettes, the kiss is shockingly good. it's like he can read your mind, knows how to lick into your mouth and suck your tongue to get you pawing at his shoulders and moaning quietly against his lips. his hand is broad and warm, heat seeping through your clothes as he runs it over your ass, your hip, and eventually up to your chest, where he palms your breast and squeezes.

haw-hee!

laughter bursts out of you, making your head tilt back as he wiggles the horn in the scant light. now that you think about it, you did wonder why you were only being groped one-handed.

even in the dim light you can see the way he's smiling at you, broad with broken teeth that give his smile some character, like he's pleased that you're such a good sport about all of his jokes. taking a half step back, he turns his toes in, standing pigeon-toed and making the tips of his overlarge shoes touch.

"kneel right there. much better'n concrete f'your knees." the clown instructs. the ends of his shoes are somewhat bulbous, adding to the silliness of the look, but as it turns out, they also make pretty damn good kneepads.

"are these- did you stuff the toes? is there padding in these? what a gentleman you are." you tease as you settle in, and he chuckles as he fishes his dick out of his trousers. maybe it's the stark, harsh lighting or maybe just the angle, but the man's cock looks absolutely monstrous. it looks like it's straining under the weight of itself as it bobs and twitches in his hand.

"ain't i just?" he smirks before booping you on the nose with his cock with a wink. "heh. reminds me of a joke. what does the horny toad say?"

you shrug and shake your head, already grinning as you wait for a terrible punchline. he waggles his hard cock in front of your face with a small twist of his hips.

"rub it, rub it."

you're booing before you even realize it, which morphs into cackling when simon starts to belly-laugh at his own stupid, stupid joke. his cock bounces with every chuckle, wagging in front of your face, looking like an absolute meal as the two of you laugh.

before he can make another awful wisecrack, you wrap a hand around his dick, pull back the foreskin, and suck. whatever he was going to say next sputters to a deliciously incomprehensible end as you start to bob your head, swirling your tongue and doing your level best to take as much as you can without choking.

it's a task, to say the least. he's not just hard, he's solid, unyielding as it hits your soft palate over and over again, firm between your lips and fat enough to make your jaw start to ache already. you have to time your breaths, to try to swallow down your gags when you take him a little too deep. it's hard to tell if it's the angle of his knees or just courtesy that keeps him from bucking into your mouth, but you're grateful all the same.

"thassit, good girl. what do you think, eh? clown cock taste funny t'you?" the joke is so bad it loops around to being good enough to make you snort, his dick slipping from your lips, a string of saliva still connecting the two of you as throw your head back to cackle.

"i can't suck your dick if you keep making me laugh!" you mock-protest, mirth still tugging the corners of your mouth into a smile. the clown laughs down at you, a low heh heh heh that sounds immensely pleased.

"can't tell what i like more- teasin' ya, or makin' ya laugh." he muses, sliding his palm against the side of your neck.

suddenly, a nearby light flickers on, casting stark, pale greenish light over the two of you. fuck, you're busted, oh shit, people are going to find out- they're gonna talk, this is going to follow you forever-

"easy, s'on a timer, love, ain't nobody 'ere but us. now up, on your feet, thassit." he takes your hands and helps hoist you to your feet with a grunt. your knees ache a little, but not as bad as they would had you been kneeling directly on the concrete.

"now get this off, let me at these tits."

simon doesn't even wait for you to do anything, instead choosing to immediately pull your shirt off over your head himself before smashing his face against your breasts, his broad fingers scrambling over your back, fumbling to unclasp your bra as he motorboats you with such vigor that it makes you stumble backwards a few steps, behind the dumpster and in the dark shadow cast by the light. stubble scratches the delicate skin as he rubs his face against your tits, and you can barely hear his pleased hum over the dull roar of the carnival on the other side of the fairgrounds.

as soon as your bra is hastily yanked off, his hands take their place, cupping under them with broad palms and pressing them together.

"still nervous, sweet'eart? promise i only 'ave the breast of intentions f'ya." even in the shadow of the dumpster you can see that smile, crooked and wonderful, beaming through the dark.

"boo. hiss. tomato, tomato, tomato." you tease, and his grin just gets wider right before he ducks his head to pull a nipple into his mouth, sending a shudder tearing through your body.

broad arms snake around your waist, locking you into place, tits pressed against his face.

"bloody 'ell, just soft oll over, aren't ya?" he murmurs, mostly to himself.

all at once, it hits you- you're behind a dumpster at a traveling carnival, tits out, with a clown whose hard dick keeps bouncing in excitement as he motorboats you. streaks of white and grey face paint coat your breasts in thick, greasy layers as he rubs his face against your tits like an affectionate cat, damn near purring as he seems to lose himself a bit in it. his stubble scratches and burns at the sensitive skin, and before long you're pushing at his head, hissing and squirming, trying to find some relief.

"you're giving me beard burn." you complain, and to your surprise, simon pulls away immediately instead of continuing to rub you raw. big broad hands

"aw, precious, didn' mean to. come on, promised ya a ride, didn't i? can't 'ardly do that with your shorts still on, can i?"

"yeah, yeah, yeah." you mock-grouse, unbuttoning your shorts and wriggling them off, nearly tripping as you pull them over your shoes and tossing them onto the small pile of clothing on the ground. god, your clothes are going to be dusty when you get dressed again- best put your panties on top of the pile just in case.

christ, now you're naked behind a dumpster except for your shoes and the paint smeared over your bare tits- but the way simon is looking at you does a fantastic job of erasing any of your shame or self-consciousness. crooked teeth rake over a thin, scarred lower lip as he ogles your bare body and strokes his cock with a pleased little groan.

"just a mo'- need a rubber." simon tells you as he reaches into the front pocket of his trousers. gold foil shimmers in the pale light as he pulls out a strip of condoms... that just keeps going and going and going. you count ten, twenty, thirty- holy shit, how many condoms does this man even have? it's an impossibly long strip coming out of that pocket, being looped over a tattooed forearm to keep it off the ground, and it reminds you of a little kid you'd seen earlier with a shitload of tickets spilling out of his two-armed embrace as he'd marched to the prize booth.

"eh?" simon says, waggling his eyebrows as he lifts his arm to show off what must be at least 100 condoms draped over it, and god help you- it's so absurd that it gets a genuine laugh.

"those for your funny boner?" there's a beat of dead silence as simon processes your joke, before a low chuckle rumbles through the hot summer air like thunder.

"oh, i knew you'd be perfect." he says as he rolls a condom over himself, and it sends a thrill up your spine. "took one look at that big lovely arse and thought 'that girl looks like a good time'. 'n i was right, wasn't i? 'aven't even got my cock wet yet 'n you're still loads of fun. come on, turn 'round, let me get a good look at that arse."

a low whistle rings out as you turn around and bend slightly at the waist, and it no time at all there's warm, broad palms kneading at the fat of your ass, spreading your cheeks and hefting them in his hands like he's trying to guess their weight.

"s'like a cross between a donkey and an onion." simon says reverently, and you throw a look over your shoulder at him- eyebrow arched in confusion. "an ass that brings a tear t'my eye."

"oh my god-" you mock-complain before he steals every thought from your head by sliding the blunt head of his dick through your folds, spreading your slickness over himself and bumping your clit, pulling a small gasp out of you.

"now you just 'ang on, ride's about t'start. tap out if y'need to."

it's all the warning you get before simon pushes his cock inside, pressing deeper and deeper, rocking in and out to wriggle himself all the way inside of you. the stretch is delicious- his cock is fat, heavy, and fills you up in a way that only toys have managed to thus far. it ignites a small flame in the core of you, one that threatens to spread like wildfire as he starts to really move, bucking his hips against your ass with a tell-tale plap plap plap of skin on skin that you're sure anyone walking by will be able to hear.

"oh, fuck-" you gasp, fingers curling over the edge of the dumpster, knuckles blanching as you tighten your grip.

"yeah? you like that? i think you do." simon huffs breathlessly in your ear. "anybody that fucks you after this 'as got real big shoes t'fill, eh?"

you tell yourself it's the breathless way he's chuckling at his own joke that gets you going, not the joke itself- but god help you, even with your orgasm on the precipice, you can't help but tilt your head back and laugh.

you can feel the way your laughter makes you tighten up around him, pussy clenching down with every 'ha' that pours from your lips. blunt fingers dig into the fat of your hips as he chases his orgasm with gusto, snapping his hips with renewed vigor, fucking you like his life depends on it.

"fuck, shit, thassit, thassit- bloody fuckin' 'ell, pussy's gonna make me nut." he grits out, punctuating every syllable with a hard thrust that damn near punches the air out of your lungs. your knees are already weak and wobbling, breaths coming out of you in pants, toes curling in your sneakers, eyes rolling back in your skull.

everything about this is so much hotter than you ever could have expected- the way the paint on his face keeps him somewhat anonymous, the way he likes to tease you and make you squirm and laugh in equal measure, the dirtiness of being behind these trash bins where anyone could see- just thinking about it winds you up more and more, making each stroke of his cock all the more delicious.

even the smell of stale popcorn adds to the dirtiness- you're not supposed to be here, not supposed to be doing this, and certainly aren't supposed to be fucking an actual, factual circus clown. it's a strange sort of taboo, now that you think about it- it's just a costume, just a job in entertainment, but for some reason you know you won't be telling your girlfriends about the mindblowing sex with a carnival clown, no matter how many drinks are in you. people are going to be fucking weird about this in ways you know they wouldn't if he was a firefighter or- heaven forbid- a fucking cop.

"wot's the difference between pink n' purple?" simon rasps on your ear, hands holding you tight as he continues his pace, bucking up into you even more intently.

"i don't- i don't- ha-" words are hard now, the closer you get the harder it is to think, let alone speak. a hand on your hip slides forward, clever fingers expertly finding your clit and rubbing furious, wet circles before he drops his punchline.

"the strength of your grip- and jesus, love, wot a fuckin' grip."

it's so corny and so dirty, and yet- it works.

from the core of you erupts a wanton sound that you hadn't even realized you were capable of making- a loud and drawn out moan that shakes along with your knees as you try to lock them in order to keep from falling over as you cum. fireworks explode behind your eyes as your fingers clench onto the hard edge of the dumpster, the rusted edges rough against your skin, and you press your forehead into the back of your hand as you cry out, pussy throbbing around simon's cock as you cum.

somewhere over near where the card table was, you hear cheers and clapping. self-consciousness takes over immediately, damn near entirely wiping away your afterglow as simon's pace stutters to a stop and he buries himself deep inside of you with a groan.

"oh, fuck yeah, good fuckin' girl." he pats your ass before pulling out with a grunt, and for the briefest of moments you see a used condom sail over your head right into the dumpster. when you finally turn to face simon again on wobbly knees, he's grinning at you.

"c'mere, sit with me." simon pants as he tucks his cock back into his trousers and takes a seat on the ground.

"hang on, lemme get dressed. i'm not sitting on the ground with my bare ass-"

"c'mon, don' need to sit on the ground, just park right 'ere." he pats his lap and you give him a skeptical look.

"i'm getting dressed first- with my luck, someone is gonna need to throw something out and will definitely see me."

"no they won't. they know better than to come back 'ere when i've got a bird with me. gaz's probably told the whole camp to steer clear by now."

ah, that would explain the post-orgasm applause.

you huff a laugh and mentally plan how you'll leave this place without walking past your audience as you grab your clothes anyways, shaking the dust off before putting them on.

"slut." you tease affectionately as you slide on your panties.

"yeah. can't 'elp it- everybody likes a bloke that can make 'em laugh." he agrees with a grin, patting at his lap. "now c'mon. 'aven't got oll evenin'. sit."

"you can't be serious- i'll crush you." you warn, pulling on your bra.

"and what a way to go. now come on, love, don' make me ask again."

on wobbling legs you slowly lower yourself onto his thigh, and he snakes an arm around your waist to hold you close. it's surprisingly sweet, for a hookup.

"so?" he asks, fingers tracing lightly over your hip.

"so?" you echo, confused.

"you said you like fast, that you like unexpected, that you like it a bit scary. did i or did i not deliver?" simon demands with a laugh. his makeup is smeared to hell, the red dot on his nose is gone, the black around his eyes has spread to fill the entire orbital cavity, and some of the white has smeared down to his upper lip, giving him a more ghoulish appearance.

dear god, why is that hot?

"you're not scary." the words sneak out of you right before you can think better of it.

"no? you don't think clowns are scary? loads of people do." he points out, pulling out his pack of cigarettes. he taps it twice against his knuckle before fishing one out.

"nah. i like clowns." you reply lamely, and he snorts, eyes flicking down to your bare chest.

"clearly."

simon swipes his finger over the black and grey smudges on your tits, leaving a little skull shape where his face paint had transferred onto your skin.

"we're 'ere oll weekend, then we're picking up and movin' north monday mornin'. wouldn't mind seein' you again before we go." he says, tone fully neutral but his eyes completely affixed to your tits.

"yeah? gonna show me more romantic carnival sites, like the manure pile or behind a large bush?" you tease, reaching for your shirt. when you tell your friends about this hookup later, you're going to leave out the dumpster part. and the clown part. and the jokes, probably.

"don't worry, when i pull you into a portaloo i'll make sure it's a freshly cleaned one. i'm nothin' if not a gentleman, after oll. now 'old this." he jokes, handing you his lit cigarette. wordlessly, he pulls a fresh condom out of its foil and inflates it, cursing under his breath about it being a 'slippery fucker' when he tries to tie it off. with his cigarette still burning between your fingers, you watch in amusement and wonder as he expertly twists the impromptu balloon into a dog shape.

"oh my god." you laugh as he hands you the lube-coated balloon animal with one hand and plucks his cigarette from your fingers with the other. simon knocks his ludicrously large shoe against yours.

"y'got somewhere t'be?"

"not really." you admit, before self-consciousness kicks in and morphs into humiliation. "i, um, i'll be out of your hair in a second, i'm still kind of catching my breath."

"nah, nah, nah, not chasin' ya off. was just thinkin', it's been a good while since i've met anyone fun on the road. could go back t'my trailer, use a few more of these up." simon grabs the long strip of condoms, wiggling one end of it in the air.

"wait- we could've been fucking in a bed? what the hell are we doing by the dumpsters?"

simon shrugs and takes a drag of his cigarette, chuckling a smoky exhale before he speaks.

"i always find fuckin' t'be more fun when it's a little bit trashy."

your playful boos intermingle with his laughter, creating perfect harmony to the chorus of muted screams of delight and tinny showtunes that floats over from the carnival on the warm summer air.

[ivymarquis]

when i first heard about the male loneliness epidemic i was like oh yeah close camaraderie and bonding between men is often discouraged in favor of competition or, if not discouraged, at least filtered through a lens of individualism that precludes deep connections. and then i learned what people meant by it (men arent getting laid) to which i say skill issue

[ivymarquis]

sex that's like holding down an overly anxious rabbit at the vet so it doesn't accidentally kick you while you're giving it a shot.

[ivymarquis]

doing my level best to be extremely normal about how much i love the stories my friends make

[ivymarquis]

Your tag on that post about blocking people threw me so hard lol I have never heard "on you like a duck on a junebug"

Do ducks like junebugs? Why have I never heard this? Junebugs are the bane of my existence in the summer (except this summer for some reason). Like slamming into you kind of nuisance. Is the secret ducks 😂😂

Yes it is a common turn of phrase where I am! (Fun part of being southern is some of the buckwild expressions we have lmao)

Alternatively we also have “on {you/it/etc} like white on rice”

And yes you are actually correct junebugs are usually a major issue and this year they are….not?? And we have fireflies for the first time in ages!

[ivymarquis]

Back on my bullshit about this post re: omega wearing a collar because they dont want to be marked for Reasons(tm) and now thinking about that concept with an alpha who’s absolutely furious about the collar situation (rut addled brain and all 🥲) and decides if they can’t mark the omega in the traditional sense they will make do with scent marking the omega by pulling out at the last minute and rubbing their cum into the omega’s abdomen. This absolutely enrages the omega because that is not where the cum is supposed to be. Alpha is content with the fact that they’re both irritated at the current situation.

[ivymarquis]

"oh you still use tumblr? can I see?" no. that's where I keep my demons

[ivymarquis]

owww your problematic fetish just bit me dude now i'm gonna be into it

[ivymarquis]

Turnabout is fair play! If nobody got to you first!

┐(￣∀￣)┌ and/or (_ _)>

thank you <333333 Feel free to send me asks from this writing game

Fair warning here that I, someone who enjoys and writes dark fics, enjoys dark topics! and we shall discuss some of them here!! This also got longer than intended so I am putting it under a cut????

┐(￣∀￣)┌ : what are 1-3 kinks that never fail to arouse you? what are some that you wish were used more in fics?

Omegaverse is always a banger (I'm gonna be a little gracious and call it a kink even tho it's technically more a trope??? But if Im constantly getting off to it then- ). I feel like it is kinda an accumulation of several smaller elements I enjoy in fics all wrapped together in a quasi-werewolf-adjacent AU and it's just ??? delightful. Like there is the core premise of the AU but there is also SO MUCH that authors can do it individually so it's always an adventure seeing how folks structure their universe. It can be cosy and warm and fluffy or hot and passionate and fucknasty or it can be used to look at misogyny through a lens re: how different dynamics are treated etc and it's just a good time all around

As discussed prior on this blog, even though I don't write it enough, I am a fucking f i e n d for oviposition. I fear this is just the logical conclusion of hentai -> tentacles -> ovi when you start going down that rabbit hole. Breeding kinks be hot as hell, and also lowkey it ties into the 3rd one we will be discussing here, when you have these women effectively reduce to little more than breeding stock, which is-------

misogyny ! Boy howdy do I come running when I see a John Price fic has a misogyny tag on it. This one doesn't require a psychology degree behind it- loud mouthed feminist enjoys playing with gender roles from the safety of her computer screen! I would never be a housewife or ever give a man the chance to be in a position of power like that over literally every facet of my life, hence why it just makes my fucking brain go brrrrr to fantasize about John Price derailing all my plans and ruining my life just because he thinks I'm pretty <3

(_ _)> : what do you think are characteristics of a great smut scene / fic? conversely, what might ruin a smut scene / fic for you?

So this kinda depends on what the smut scene is, there's effectively two answers for what I like in a scene/fic, however there is only one answer to the "what might ruin a smut scene for you" portion.

So we have the 'what do you think are characteristics of a great smut scene / fic?' portion, which can be split into two parts:

Partially this is influenced by if a fic is con, dubcon, or non-con.

If a fic is fully consensual, I am all about the bonding aspect and emotional connection from sex. I fear I am a certified lover girl and not built to be outside the house. While I have a fair amount of flex in how dark of an omegaverse fic I will read, at its core I just love the mates and nesting aspects and how these couples and/or packs build a bond for themselves and a life together ;.; (also heatsex be hot lmao)

If a fic is noncon, we're leaning more heavily into the breeding stock/misogyny line of thinking- That your purpose is to be whatever this other person wants to make of you, that your thoughts and agency don't mean anything in the grand scheme of things, etc etc etc. Dubcon, of course, is a bit of a blend of the two, and my brain goes into overdrive if the offending party is being condescendingly sweet but still steamrolling the fuck out of the other person. Yes please <3

So what does Ivy not like?

Well, aside from being surprised by kinks I didn't read (I have skimmed tags on authors whose work I was familiar with but obviously didn't know as well as I thought they did. I can never unsee the skullfucking fic I read- whichever one of you fiends was the first to use the word 'gummy' to describe the texture of the vaginal walls in a smut scene better count your fucking days.

it makes my fucking skin crawl, end rant lmao

Hilariously enough I actually remember the first fic I ever read with that word in it in a sexual context, and it was a stockholm fic I found on literotica probably circa ~2015 lmao. It's a decade+ long beef at this point.

Also like, whilst I am very, very, very flexible on the amount of consent present in a fic, I don't like being surprised by noncon/heavy dubcon in a fic where I'm expecting things to be soft and fluffy. Noncon -> Dubcon -> Con pipeline is totally fine, but there better be a pretty damn compelling reason and ample warning if we're going the other direction.

Thank you for asking!! Sorry for the rant lmao

[ivymarquis]

saying “i want him” about the character but not in a romantic or sexual way . i just Require him i need to Obtain him

[ivymarquis]

[ivymarquis]

ask game for fanfic writers! 18+ / nsfw questions below the cut.

feel free to tag others to join and participate! if you're mentioning anyone in your responses, make sure to check their dni / byf criteria first.

thanks to @/dotcie and their ask game for inspiring this one!

__φ(．．) : do you have any writing goals this year? for instance, is there anything you want to try out or experiment with?

(´｡• ᵕ •｡`) : talk about the fic that you enjoyed writing the most! and don't forget to link it in your response if it's published!

o( ❛ᴗ❛ )o : is there a trope / au you'd like to write more for?

(☆ω☆) : what's the word count of your longest fic to date? how long did it take to write that fic, and would you write another piece of that length (or longer)?

(*¯︶¯*) : is there an author that you wish would receive more attention? tell us their url, and rave about them!

(๑˘︶˘๑) : do you write with or without music playing in the background? if you do, which artists / songs do you recommend?

o(≧▽≦)o : which fandom(s) are you most involved in? which character(s) have you written the most for?

(ノ*°▽°*) : how do you go about characterization? any advice on how you go about character analysis and interpretation is appreciated!

(☆_@) : have you experienced imposter syndrome? if so, write down 3-5 things you enjoy and admire in your own writing!

Σ(°△°|||) : what's the sweetest inbox message you've received from a reader?

(ノωヽ) : what do you use to write – paper and pen? in your notes app? gdocs or ellipsus? directly in your tumblr drafts?

(っ˘ω˘ς ) : go through the reblogs on this ask game, find a new author that you haven't come across before (make sure to check their dni / byf criteria!), and read one of their fics – highly encouraged to leave comments, tags, and reblog their fic!

(°ロ°) ! : how do you get in the mood for writing? do you intentionally set time aside on your calendar or rely on sheer bursts of motivation and hyperfixation? do you have any pre-writing rituals?

(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ : what makes you immediately fall in love with a fic?

〜(＞＜)〜 : share one of your nsfw fics, and explain the inspiration behind it!

(＃￣ω￣) : what's your biggest struggle when it comes to writing smut?

☆⌒(>。) : what are you like when you're writing smut? are you turned on or contemplating very seriously? do you have a pokerface, or are you a flustered mess?

┐(￣∀￣)┌ : what are 1-3 kinks that never fail to arouse you? what are some that you wish were used more in fics?

ヾ(。＞＜)シ : have you ever written smut in front of others? if not, would you write smut in public for $10? assume that if someone paid attention, they would be able to catch glimpses of your screen / notebook / etc.

(□_□) : any advice on how to describe sex positions without explicitly using terms / names?

(◎ ◎)ゞ : have you ever masturbated to a fic before? and if you have... share the goods... if you'd like...

(づ◡﹏◡)づ : can you write porn without plot, or is plot a necessity? and more generally, if you do write porn with plot, how do you balance the two?

(_ _)> : what do you think are characteristics of a great smut scene / fic? conversely, what might ruin a smut scene / fic for you?

(=`ω´=) : drop a nsfw fic that you read recently. make sure to include any relevant warnings!

[ivymarquis]

current thought spinning in my brain like a rotisserie chicken is CoD omegaverse fic but instead of the omega being all uwu helpless heat addled sex doll (which, valid, do not get me wrong)- I present to the class: Omega who is demanding and bratty. Omega who demands that pp. Omega who leaves the alpha as a dehydrated, shriveled up husk (metaphorically speaking) after draining every last drop from them.

Packs having multiple alphas to cater to an omega because otherwise they're not gonna survive a 1v1 with an omega in heat. Packs because an omega in heat is fun at first and then you're left sitting with the reality of the situation that this creature is gonna get another load out of you one way or another

[ivymarquis]

you can always write disgusting pornography btw. if you forgot

[ivymarquis]

I love when a character wants to be someone's dog so so bad. Dont mean it in a sexual way (although that can also be a part of it) I mean like. Let me be your loyal companion let me stay by your side give me a purpose in exchange for endless unconditional love let me stop being a person love me like it's my only use. Love me like that's the only thing I was made for. As you can tell. I'm normal.

[ivymarquis]

[ivymarquis]

crazy how most of us made friends on here because we were going insane about the same 2 freaks at the same time. like oh you’re up thinking about them too?