psychedelic-ink · 2 years ago
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nothing ruins a day more than someone who commissioned me taking the writing and blocking me from everywhere so they don't have to pay.
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sophieswundergarten · 1 year ago
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So. Everyone who yelled at me yesterday for making a ramble on Reynie going blank and then not resolving it, this is for you: (@lemondropletters, you have been tagged)
Also, it's in a Google Doc because it was definitely too long for a Tumblr post, and ~~I don't know how AO3 works~~
The (vague) premise is that, instead of Constance seeing Curtain's broadcast, they all get to the compound mentally sound, but once there, they split up to look for Mr. Benedict, and instead Reynie finds Curtain. This is the wrap up of what would have happened in the last episode.
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invinciblerodent · 23 days ago
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Man, having something that people straight up refuse to tag for (even if asked) be a hard squick/trigger makes consuming almost any erotic content ever a fucking minefield, doesn't it.
I'm so exasperated. One would think that tagging for a somewhat common kink would be in the poster's best interest as well (y'know, if only so that the people looking for that kink specifically can actually find it), but no. No, that'd probably make too much sense.
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fatesown · 2 months ago
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i Don't think i'm gonna be able to stop myself from putting my hawke on this blog when i'm done with this run but i Do think she's gonna be fairly canon-divergent, or at least canon-questionable
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sweetvalentinescandy · 3 months ago
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im so disappointed in my art lately . im not a beginner artist, but i feel like everything i do looks like i am . i feel like it would only be acceptable for a beginner . i havent made any progress since i was 11 . today is not a good day
#artist problems? except i barely even count as an artist atp#non serious vent sorry#i dont usually textpost because i much prefer just sticking it in the tags and hoping i forget about it#but i dont have anything to post. i literally have not been able to make anything at all.#does any other artist feel like this?#i know everyone says they feel like this but i cant decide if its comforting or condescending#all the other artists say “oh i hate my art!” when their art is good because its just the artists eye or whatever its called#and on one hand its comforting because everyone hates their art#but on the other hand its so discouraging because if you hate your art so much#how does mine look? how bad is mine?#i dont like talking abt weed bc its kinda weird for a 14 year old but i feel like the only times i can draw without crying -#- is when im high#i dont know i need to take a break or something#might focus on writing but everything is just so frustrating to me lately#i cant promise literally anything anymore because everytime i get excited to create its just GONE so fast#becaus i cant like anything i make#i keep searching for some kind of art advice that will actually help but i never can figure out how to apply it#and most of it is just “keep practicing!” as if i havent been practicing since i was 8 years old#i feel like at this point i have to just start all the way over but i dont even know how#at this point i would rather art regress than keep churning out the same mediocre garbage ive been drawing since 2022#and its not even that im pressuring myself to draw. its that all my art has just looked the same for so long and im so frustrated#i literally cannot draw anything without crying anymore its really upsetting#anyway sorry for the negativity on main :( this blog has kinda become my diary and im just an overdramatic teenager or whatever i dont know
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fingertipsmp3 · 4 months ago
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Ughhhhhhh I hate writing and I hate not writing and I hate myself
#nearly bought a digital typewriter today. actually i DID buy a digital typewriter today. officially yes i have bought a digital typewriter.#the money for the digital typewriter has left my account but i have emailed them to cancel the order because i can't in good faith buy#a digital typewriter when i don't fucking WRITE#i thought it might help me get back into it. distraction free and while allowing me to not judge my own writing#and be continuously editing while i write and going 'i'm crap i'm crap i'm crap no one will ever read this and if they do they will think#that i'm garbage and that i should feel bad etc etc etc'#but it's too expensive and i have the feeling i wouldn't even like or use the thing once i got it#because the IDEAS! the ideas aren't coming to me. or rather they are but none of them seem to stick#i feel underconfident in writing any of them#and then i have old projects that i've always wanted to get back to like the tennis romance thing but SO much has changed since i first#started drafting it. like i don't even know if i like the main couple anymore. i kind of want to put both of them with different OCs of min#but it'd switch up the WHOLE story if i had a different cast#in fact most of the problem lies in the fact that i have this long-running bedtime story i tell myself every night with lore#and a massive cast of characters that i switch out depending on who i'm most interested in right now and every so often i incorporate new#themes and ideas and motifs and plot points sometimes based on media i've been watching because it's MY bedtime story and it doesn't matter#if i plagiarise in my own brain. but then obviously i can't plagiarise in real life#and none of my bedtime stories are GOING anywhere. sometimes i only get through a scene or two before i fall asleep#all of which means my bedtime story is not so much a sweeping epic novel but a sitcom with way too many characters#most of which are werewolves to be honest and sometimes for my own wish fulfilment one of them will walk out of my head#and take care of my problems for me by lending me £1million or murdering my best friend's ex. in my mind obviously#so it's like. it's a case of getting in there and annexing off the stuff i think i can use#it's like yeah i've definitely written several romance novels in my head in the process of this but does it matter if they're IN my HEAD#to be honest i feel like my main strength is in creating characters. like i have this one family of werewolves i've been slowly but surely#adding members to since i was like 16. maybe younger? no yeah i think i made the first one when i was 12#they're compelling to ME anyway. i care about them. it's just PLOTS. i can't plot#if a book could just be a lot of dialogue and sex scenes and silly moments and character studies i'd be alright#i also can't describe settings. don't ask me to because i can't#and now i'm just annoyed with myself because i sat down at my laptop to try to write and instead i'm here complaining about how i don't wri#and if i had the digital typewriter... i mean i'd probably still be doing this i'd just no longer have £300#i don't have the £300 anyway. i hope to christ they refund my card i'm a fucking idiot
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eosofspades · 2 years ago
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i could write an essay on how my feelings for kataang went from disinterested but vaguely appreciative to profound dislike to outright hostility
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hecksupremechips · 2 years ago
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Girl help I keep thinking about freaking persona 4
#i have banned myself from engaging with any persona 4 related content (except for memes my sister sends me)#because yeah its genuinely deeply upsetting for me and i always feel like absolute shit#but aghhh for some reason my brain has been fixated on it this week thinking about all the offensive garbage it is#and i keep thinking of all the evidence i can gather definitively proving that the writing is sooooo homophobic/transphobic#which is a very easy thing to gather up and prove since its all over the damn place lol#but like im just so fixated on how awful the game is and how the fans are even worse and i have this urge to argue forever#something im sure a lot of yall can relate to#cuz god it hurts to be screaming at people that theyre hurting you and for them to just say no to you as if its up for debate#if this sounds dramatic cuz its Juat A Game liiiike no its not Just A Game this is about#my daily life requires me to argue my existence constantly and its the same for every other damn marginalized person out there#and idk if youre still gonna either ignore or deny that persona 4 isnt batshit insanely offensive then youre stupid#i dont have the patience to argue shit like this anymore because theres no way someone with a brain can deny shit like that#and quite frankly even well intentioned queer fans who try to make headcanons that either say fuck you to the game#or hcs that do nothing at all to challenge the bigotry in p4 are kinda annoying to me#cuz it hurts too much to play along like yeah id LOVE to just slap a rainbow on kanji and a trans guy badge on naoto#and call it a day and enjoy the game outside of it all but thats kinda impossible#when these two characters entire existence revolves around the bigotry and its done in a way that hurts like hell to see#its too real for me to enjoy even if i make positive ‘fuck you atlus’ fan art#yeah ughhhh whatever its just annoying cuz I’ve been doing a good job at blocking this game away from my life#cuz it brought nothing but anger to me but its just been something thats been stuck on me lately#and im really not sure what triggered this or why its been lingering so long like please stoppp#its really embarrassing to be having bad mental illness over a shitty bibleo game 🙄
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articroses · 11 days ago
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I feel weird writing this big massive action crossover shounen-ish fanfic because the action / fighting is cool, but I’m focusing more on the impact fighting the big bad has on these child protagonists, especially since they can’t depend on adult characters (more or less). It becomes a bit more realistic (and I guess, “dark and edgy”) to focus on not just physical aspects but mental aspects of their health affected.
I feel like it’s expected of me to write one of the characters dog-walking one of the big bad villains which is whatever, I like that too, but that’s an individualistic sort of approach that goes against the theme I want to set with having bonds that prevent those big battles from happening in the first place (or at least, one person carrying the burden of fighting for everyone, while everyone else is cheering in the background and that is considered the team effort like, I really don’t think a singular hero and his background posse of cheerleaders is team effort guys😭). Basically, those big bad fights aren’t exactly a good thing. It’s like cigarette smoking, cool to see but really not good to do.
This is a huge ramble when I’m just saying expect your expectations to be subverted lol.
Like I do write for me, yes! But I don’t share my fic for me, so it’s a bit weird like I’m in the audience, having my own thoughts / ideas on how this fic will go, but then I turn around to see the rest of the audience expecting something entirely different.
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rise-my-angel · 6 months ago
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I WILL CARE I WILL CARE!!! I love your writing please
Im sorry I'm just...idk going through something...I love writing this story but some days I just worry im publishing new chapters to no one, or any one left is just reading out of obligation that will hop off eventually too. Next month ill have been writing this story for a year and I just wonder if ive vastly over stayed my welcome.
Part 8 is literally some of my favourite chapters I've written with some plotlines I am so excited for but idk maybe I'm just writing long diatribes of garbage no one cares about.
Most fics arent this long, sometimes idk why I think people still wanna put the effort in and read mine.
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thephantomsdream · 5 months ago
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Let's be real for a second.
Ghost likes you a lil mean. Just enough. To him, to his mates, to everyone. He can fight. He will fuck anyone up who dares to react aggressively to you, so it doesn't matter if you're sassy, snarky, plainly put a little shit. He won't stop you, he's not gonna "tame" you, he's definitely gonna fucking eat it up and tease you, loving your remarks, clever, funny or straight up mean. The man will be smirking behind his mask (or straight up giving you heart-eyes at home). Don't be unnecessarily mean though, it's not a good look on anyone. Oh, god, and if your humor is dark? You got the man snorting and fucking giggling*(1), shoulders shaking and him trying to hold it in as you're plain roasting someone.
Be mean to him. He tests the waters, dropping one of his incredible and fantastic jokes for you to roll your eyes at him and tell him to rather wear a clown mask, since he's such a joke, and I swear he folds. Wants to pin you down and fuck you raw until you're a sobbing mess that knows nothing else but his name? Of course, and know he'd be mocking you, because where's that snarky mouth of yours, hmm? Oh, ya, busy sucking on his fingers. But until then, he's lowkey following you around dropping stupid joke after stupid joke until you're actually angry and amused. He got you smiling somehow? Gets him feeling like a young boy with a crush, silly butterflies and all.
Give him a bitch-face. Raised brow and unimpressed face at anyone and he's just eyes on you. Fucking hell, he's creepy too. Ghost is fucking intimidating as he is but if he just fixates on something, big brown eyes locked onto you and (big, awkward because let's be fucking for real, boy's actually fucking awkward) body frozen. Just 🧍‍♂️. (I'm fucking wheezing, he just 🧍‍♂️👁👁 and you know it!)
"Fuck are you looking at, weirdo?" That's bloody foken lovely!
And!
AND! He just (again, awkwardly) hovers and makes shit jokes but is so helpful to you in any way he can because in reality he's garbage with words but with actions he's much better. Regardless of where you met, he'll find a way in your life because you bring him joy and he just can't seem to let go. Simon tries to convince himself too that it ain't a good idea, that you're better off. Aha. Yeah, then you just look at him in a way when someone else says something absolutely fucking stupid and he just... Yeah, he's yours.
Be mean to him, then let him shove his face in your tits. Pull his hair a little but wrap your arms around him. Bite him and call him an idiot if you want, as long as you call him your idiot. That's Simon to you.
(But when you're nice to only him, he feels special. Make this man feel special, yeah? He needs it.)
(1): I actually imagined him in his barracks, him kicking his feet while he wears a pink robe, writing in his pink diary (with a pink pen with one of those fluffy balls at the end) "Dear diary, my lovie called me an asshole today. My heart is still racing. We shall mary in spring." and drawing hearts around his and your initials together.
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sierra-r-a-e · 2 months ago
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nsfw ♡ mdni
Nanami Kento was most likely the handsomest man you had ever seen, especially when he was making love to you.
He was a man that usually stuck to routine, and that was the case for the bedroom as well. Now don’t get me wrong— he could give you orgasm after orgasm with just his hands, whether that be gently rubbing your clit, or fucking you on his fingers— he was skilled.
But that doesn’t mean you didn’t want to try something new, perhaps a new position would suffice. The two of you typically did it in missionary or a mating press, with him practically folding you in half and stuffing you full of his cock.
You brought the idea of a new position up to Kento, suggesting that you should try to be the one on top for a change. He was on board with the idea after some convincing that you’d be alright and that it wouldn’t hurt you in any way— such a gentleman he is.
That led you to find yourself in this position, hovering over his cock as you gripped his shoulders for support. He guided himself inside you as he sat propped up against the pillows. You didn’t realize just how much deeper he’d get in this position— it was almost too much.
Kento wasn’t an extremely vocal man, other than a few grunts and groans; but when you bottomed out on his cock, your walls snug around him, he actually let out a moan. The sound caused you to tighten up around him due to the effect it had on your body, it was so fucking hot.
You carefully began moving up and down on his cock, his hands rested on your hips. He bit his lip to stop himself from cumming too fast, he could feel so much more in this position. He’d been inside you many times, but this was a definitely a new feeling.
The way you were squeezing his cock was so good, he almost couldn’t take it. He did his best to not just start fucking his hips up into you, wanting to go at your pace.
That was until your thighs started burning and your body beginning to give out— you had been going for awhile so it was only natural that you’d get tired and begin to slow down.
He picked up on your exhaustion and moved his hands from your hips to your ass, squeezing the flesh. He braced himself and began pounding his cock into your sopping hole.
Your whole body went slack as you leaned into him, moaning into his ear. His pelvis brushed up against your clit so good, your orgasm quickly approaching because of it.
He could feel as your hole tightened around his cock at every thrust. It was important to him that you came first— so when the coil in your abdomen finally snapped and he felt your pussy flutter and convulse around him; that’s when he finally let himself give into the immense pleasure he was feeling.
He spilled his seed in your pussy, his hips stuttering and his arms moving to hold you close to his chest as you both rode out your orgasms. He was still letting out guttural groans, his cock twitching in your pussy from how hard he came. Your legs were trembling slightly as you laid against his chest, feeling his cum start to seep out of you.
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sorry for not posting in forever, schools hard 😭🙏
please forgive me if this is absolute garbage, i tried
my request box is open but try to stick to jjk requests for now, since those are the easiest for me to write
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itoshiexx · 11 months ago
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when you call them "husband"
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how the blue lock boyfriends react when you call them "husband".
pairings: itoshi sae, shidou ryusei, isagi yoichi x fem!reader (no descriptions tho, just the words "mrs." and "wifey") (separate) | warnings: established relationship, fluff, kissing, the boys are simps, shidou is a warning itself
notes: hi guys! another one of these scenarios since you guys seemed to like the other one so much <3 thank you for all your love and support! also it's my first time writing for shidou so i hope this isn't absolute garbage.
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Itoshi Sae
one of your and sae’s favorite couple activities was driving around the city. you loved the feeling of madrid’s summer breeze kissing your face and messing up your hair, and sae… well, he would never admit that, but sae loved anything that made you happy, even if it meant driving with no clear destination in mind until his feet hurt. so it was no wonder you convinced him to do just that on that afternoon.
after half an hour of wandering around town on a porsche, you decided that some starbucks would do both of you well. your little pleading eyes quickly convinced sae to stop by one, letting you order since the intercom was on your side.
“welcome to starbucks, what can i get for you today?” the man’s voice came out of the intercom, the spanish accent still making it a bit difficult for sae to fully comprehend, despite living in madrid for years now. 
“hi! i’d like a caramel frappuccino and a chocolate muffin, please.”
“anything else?”
you turned to him, asking in a whisper, “what do you want, baby?”
“just an iced matcha tea latte.” he shrugged. you smiled, and sae had to fight the urge to smile too. it was maddening, really — how much of an effect you had on him with something as simple as a turn of lips.
he watched as you turned back to the intercom, “and my husband wants an iced matcha tea latte. that would be all, thank you.”
distracted, sae started to take his foot off the brake to go to the payment booth, but suddenly his body froze. he furrowed his eyebrows, confusion etched on his teal eyes.
wait. 
fucking wait. 
sae didn’t register what the guy on the intercom said next, much less what you answered. he didn’t even notice the line of cars behind him and the need to move forward. all that mattered was that one word that fell from your mouth seconds prior.
“what did you call me?” he asked, silently afraid that it was all a trick from his mind fed on his deepest wishes. 
it was only then you seemed to realize what you said. “o-oh, i… i’m sorry, it just— it just came out…” you squeaked, bashful. fuck, you were so pretty like that, with your cheeks rosy while averting his gaze. 
sae smirked, pinching your chin so that you would look at him. he kissed you with a sweetness that wasn’t usually present in his bitter mouth, and you melted at his gentleness. 
“don’t apologize,” he said as he broke the kiss. “i liked that, mrs. itoshi.”
it seemed like it was finally time for that velvet box on the bottom of his drawer.
Shidou Ryusei
peace. peace was all you wished for — at least a little bit. five minutes on the phone to schedule an appointment was not asking for much, was it?
apparently, for shidou, it was.
you were well aware your boyfriend was selfish, and that was an universal rule when it came to your attention. considering he spent a lot of time away for games overseas, you couldn’t blame him for wanting some time alone, since you wanted it too. 
however, you really needed to schedule your doctor’s appointment, and your whiny boyfriend was making this task extremely difficult. every time you started talking to the lady on the other side of the phone, ryusei would butt in with very unnecessary comments that made your eyes roll. you apologized profusely to the woman about a hundred times, and she assured you it was okay. she even said it was sweet. 
if you weren’t so annoyed, you would have thought it was sweet, too. ryusei was never one to shy away from expressing his love, even if it meant embarrassing you and himself in the process (although he was completely shameless, so it made no difference).
“will anyone pick you up after your exam, ma’m?”
you could faintly hear what the woman was saying, since shidou was babbling nonsense in your ear as if you weren’t on a phone call. it made you sigh, and you rubbed the bridge of your nose.
“yes, my husband will pick me up.”
and then, silence. 
it took you a minute to realize that the outside noise disappeared and ryusei had completely stopped talking. you blinked a couple times, confused, and turned your head to look at your boyfriend sitting on the couch. to your surprise, he was blushing and gaping like a fish, in what seemed to be utter disbelief.
you braced yourself for what was about to come. 
“HUSBAND?!”
ah, there it is. his scream pierced through the living room, and you were certain even the other side of the country heard it. 
“thank you for everything, ma’m. i should be going now,” you told the receptionist. she only giggled and wished you a good day. 
the second you put your phone down, ryusei’s arms were around your middle, lifting you up and twirling you around like some cliche romance movie. your prior annoyance melted away in a second, and you could only giggle like a schoolgirl in love. 
“awww, ya wanna be my wifey?” he cooed, putting you down without letting you go. his nose touched yours and you blushed with the intensity of his stare. 
though you wouldn’t back down. 
“of course i do, ryu.” you smiled sweetly. your boyfriend stared at you, shocked and bashful for the second time in the span of five minutes, and then groaned when broken from his stupor. 
what a little devil, he thought. 
and then he kissed you, intense and dominating like only ryusei knew how to be, prodding his tongue in your mouth when you gasped and savoring every corner of your mouth. it was one of those kisses that swept you off your feet and left you dizzy, and he could tell from the hazy look in your eyes when he finally backed away.
“fuck, i love you so much. you ‘gon be my wifey, baby, i promise ya.”
Isagi Yoichi
you were usually the one to accompany yoichi to parties — mostly galas thrown by sponsors who wanted to secure a deal with some sports hotshot —, so, for him, it was a breath of fresh air to be your plus one on the holiday party of the company you worked for. 
since the company in question was a corporation, it was no wonder the decoration was flawless, with lots of gold and red to represent the christmas that would soon arrive. the soundtrack was mainly composed of classical music, and he smiled watching you enjoying a vivaldi song. it reminded him of the early days of your relationship, where you teached him about your favorite classic musicians such as beethoven, mozart, ludovico einaudi and chopin.
your arms were linked as you wandered around the hall, and, non surprisingly, everyone seemed to want to talk to you. of course they would; you were the sweetest, kindest and smartest soul to walk on this earth. isagi couldn’t be more proud of all the recognition you were getting, because you deserved more than anyone he knew. 
“are you having fun, baby?” you suddenly asked. the striker finally noticed he had been staring at you for a while as you drank a glass of champagne. he blushed, but nodded. 
“how could i not? i’m with you.”
a giggle left your lips along with a fond roll of your eyes, and yoichi couldn’t help but think that, if he could listen to a single sound forever, he would choose your laugh in a heartbeat. 
“you’re so silly, yoichi,” you playfully chastised him, but stepped forward to give a kiss to his cheek. he smiled, circling your waist with one arm and pulling so that your bodies were glued.
“what can i say, you make me silly, sweetheart.”
“isn’t that what love is supposed to do?” a third voice suddenly spoke, slightly startling the both of you and breaking you from your little bubble. 
you put down your glass on a waiter’s tray, smiling at the man that arrived. “mr. tanaka! what a pleasure it is to see you here.”
“of course! i wouldn’t miss such a party!” he exclaimed, laughing a little loud for the etiquette of that kind of gala, but no one seemed to mind. 
“and who is this?” he asked, pointing to isagi. 
“this is my husband, isagi yoichi. he came today to support me.”
with such simple words, yoichi’s mind went silent. 
he could faintly discern the man saying something about being a soccer enthusiast and a bastard munchen’s fan — mostly from reading his lips, since his ears were buzzing —, but honestly, he couldn’t care less. isagi’s heart was beating so pathetically fast that if he weren’t an athlete, he was pretty sure he would faint right there. 
husband. you called him your husband. 
did that mean you wanted to marry him? he’s been wanting to propose for a while. you have been dating for five years, after all, and yoichi was sure there was no one else in this world he’d rather spend the rest of his life with. did you only say that because you already lived together? or did you actually want a wedding ceremony with all your friends and family, signing the paper that would bound you for good? until death do us part, he remembered. though yoichi would love you even after dying—
“dear?” you called him, worry in your tone. it’s only then he realized he got lost in his thoughts, and both you and mr. tanaka were staring at him.
“oh, sorry. it’s really nice to meet you, sir.” he shook the man’s hand, engaging in conversation.
while you watched them, you smiled coyly, hoping isagi took the hint.
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© 2023 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.
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milla-frenchy · 14 days ago
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6 PM
4k6 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist Summary: Joel comes home earlier than expected, and catches you during a time alone Warnings: 18+ mdni. Established relationship, sex toy, mention of oral (f/m) and consensual somnophilia, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, mutual masturbation, fingering, dom!Joel, soft!Joel, intimate sex, feelings, piv, creampie, rimming, light spanking and biting, spit as lube, anal play, anal No age specified
a/n: same couple: 5 days collection, but fics can be read alone These two are becoming my favorites, chapter after chapter. It's kinda funny, when I think that I wanted to throw the first fic in the garbage after writing it, but Kate convinced me not to (I owe you 💕💕). 
Anyway, I'm adding some depths to what was mostly pwp, originally. Well, this part is still full smut, but some details add to their backstory. I still intend to write a chapter about how they met and became that couple, but emotionally it's not that easy (I'm in love with them). Enough talking, I hope you'll enjoy ❤️
Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing and for stopping me from throwing my fics in the trash 😌💕💕 and @saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏
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The slight “buzz” is the only sound coming out of the bedroom. 
That and the moans that sometimes escape your lips, as your second hand tightens around your breast. You play with the vibrator and your sensations, brushing it against your clit, then moving it away a little.
You think about Joel. 
His hands, his lips. The way they have tasted every inch of your skin, so many times. The way he knows your body and how it responds to him. Not a single spot hasn’t been touched, kissed, licked by him. 
You press the sex toy a little more against you, trying to feel the sensations you get when you're with Joel, even though you know it's impossible.
You think about his cock, when your saliva drools from his shaft to his balls, while you focus on the moans he can't hold back anymore.
“Shit, baby, yeah, just like that, keep goin’ a bit. Then I’ll fuck you, ok? Just wanna feel your lips on me a little more.”
The way you nod, not letting go of his cock, giving him what he wants and trying your best to drive him crazy. Sometimes he can't hold back and comes in your mouth with a groan. And when he opens his eyes and sees your little proud smirk of having him break, he growls "c’mere." Then grips your hips to make you straddle his face, and eats you as the sweetest revenge until you come on his tongue too.
You think about how your two bodies are made for each other, like two jigsaw puzzle pieces, whether it’s day or night, whether you’re awake or not.
He should be home in a few hours, but the heat in your crotch hasn’t left you all day, since this morning. When barely awake, he settled between your thighs, your pussy still dripping from the night, burying himself gently in your snoozy body, murmuring “good morning, baby” in your ear with his sleepy voice. His hair disheveled, his eyes barely open. He fucked you slowly, until you clenched on his shaft. He growled in your neck before adding more cum to your core, your fingers tightened on his biceps to keep him against you, while his hands were cupping your cheeks.
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You think about all that, while using the vibrator against you. How you took a shower when you got home, put on some comfortable clothes, then went to the bedroom. You’ve been planning to read your book but the sheets still smelt of this morning and one of Joel’s shirts was lying on his pillow. You undressed, keeping only your panties on, and put on his t-shirt. You didn't even open the book. Your hand slid between your thighs and played with your pussy through the garment. 
But it wasn’t enough. Your panties joined the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed, then your finger slipped easily between your dripping folds and over your clit. You came quickly, mechanically, but you needed more.
So you grabbed the vibrator from your nightstand drawer and placed it lightly against you after turning it on, not to overstimulate your swollen bud. 
And now you’re moaning, whispering “Joel,” squeezing a breast over his shirt, before sliding your hand under the fabric and grabbing it roughly. Trying to replicate Joel’s gesture, even though his hand is way bigger than yours, stronger than yours. “Joel,” you whisper again, as you bring the toy closer to your most sensitive place.
“ ‘m here, sweetheart.”
You get startled and snap your eyes open that land directly on Joel, who’s leaning against the doorframe, his lustful gaze roaming your body. You turn off the sex toy and it gets quiet in the room.
“Keep going baby, don’t stop.”
“I… I can’t. I can’t if you’re watching me.”
“‘Course you can. Lemme see how beautiful you are when you make yourself come, right in front of me.” His voice is soft but firm. His gaze is intense, as always. His broad body, leaning against the bedroom door, is the perfect representation of a quiet strength and self confidence. He has all of it in him naturally, it exudes from him. You don’t need more to feel your limbs weaken and your pussy drooling onto the sheets.
Your hand relaxes a little on the vibrator and you release some pressure in your taut legs while you tell yourself that yeah, you can do it. That you’re safe with Joel, that he just wants you to feel good.
“Close your eyes, baby. And turn it on,” he adds, nodding at you, knowing that you need it to relax totally.
So you do as he says, without pressing it against you at first.
“Show me, baby. Spread your legs for me, and show me how you do it.”
Encouraged by his praise, you spread wider, feeling his heavy gaze on you and you press the vibrator against your clit. You moan, even though you are desperate for more, hungry to feel more. To feel him, his lips around your clit sucking on it, or his tongue pointing perfectly at it.
“Yeah, just like that, that’s my good girl. Making me so fuckin’ hard.”
“Fuck, Joel,” you pant. You feel warmth rising in your core, stronger, hotter than when you were alone in the bedroom. 
You hear rustling of clothes, as he takes out his hard cock. You hear him spit, then his wrist slowly fucks his shaft. You hear him growl, while he strokes himself. And it’s one of the hottest things you’ve ever experienced. Touching yourself in front of a man, and it turns him on so much that he needs to touch himself too, and it makes him growl.
You come again, harder, as you listen to him, and you barely finish shaking when the bed lowers under his weight, and he takes the vibrator from your hand. He turns it off and throws it on the mattress.
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“You’re such a bad baby girl. Couldn’t wait for me, huh?” he says above you, leaning down to smell your hair, then running his nose over your cheek and neck. He spreads your thighs with his hand, firmly, claiming his territory like a hungry beast in front of its prey. Eager to devour it. Prey who lets him reach what he wants, how he wants, to finally being touched by the body she has been thinking about all day.
He lays down between your thighs, and his hand cups your mound in a possessive way, as if he was taking back what was his, making you whine with desire. He doesn’t wait more, and two of his fingers dive into your core. You hold your breath, eyes fixed on him, as his dark gaze is on your lips, while his digits find their favorite place in the world. Your hands are lost in his curls, his neck, you already don’t really know where you’re touching him, just being needy to feel him.
“So fuckin’ wet. Just for me,” he groans, and you love that he doesn’t ask if it’s for him. He knows it is.
He pulls up the shirt to your neck to grab a breast. “Fucking yourself in my shirt? It's fucking hot, baby,” he breathes needily, sucking one of your nipples.
“Fuck me, Joel,” you whimper. “Please. I’ve been thinking about it all day.”
“Yeah? All day you wanted me to fuck you? This poor little pussy needed my cock?” he asks, as he nestles his fat, throbbing tip at your entrance, to answer your need. He waits for a few seconds though, time for your walls to get used to his thickness, a sensation that nothing else will ever be able to match. Your mind realizes that the room is no longer filled with the sound of his thick fingers pushing into your wet pussy, as if it mattered.
“I’ve been thinking about it all day, too,” he says, as he thrusts in slowly, making you moan against his ear, bodies rushing to finally get their fix. “Thought about ruining you, again and again,” he adds, nibbling your earlobe. 
“Thought about your cunt wrapped around my cock,” his voice is needy, showing his eagerness to take more of you, his pants scraping the inside of your thighs indecently open for him.
“Thought about how perfect she’s always for me. So tight.” The growl comes from the depths of his chest, his shaft sliding into you. 
“How you're mine.” He slips his arms under your shoulders, holding you against him. “You’re always so perfect for me, sweetheart.” He stops for two seconds, buried inside you. Just to hear your breathing stop, too. 
You let out a moan. Unable to do anything else, to formulate words that would be totally incoherent anyway. You let him use your body as he pleases, because he acts exactly how you need him to.
“See what you’re doin’ to me, baby? I left the meeting. We were supposed to go to a restaurant with a client but I let Tommy take care of it.”
“Y… yeah?”
“Yeah. Said to Tommy I needed to go home.
He told me to have a good night, but he knew what I was about to do to you.”
“What… what were you about to do to me?”
“Wreck you. Make you clench on my cock.” He thrusts faster now, but still just as deep. His breathing is panting.
“Oh god… fuck, that’s good, Joel. Don’t stop,” you add, even if you know he won’t.
“Make you milk it, to the last drop. Fuck… You’re squeezin’ me so goddamn hard. You’re gonna milk my cock, baby? Gonna be a good girl for me?”
“Yes… yes, I’m your good girl, Joel.”
“Yes you are. I want you to come, baby. Come on my fuckin’ dick. Can you do that for me?”
“Yeah… Keep fucking me, Joel. Just like that. Want you to fill me up, as soon as I come.”
“Fuckin’ dirty girl. So perfect. Come on, sweetheart, soak me.”
“Shit, oh shit, Joel. I’m…” you whine, just before your climax overwhelms you. It’s like your soul is leaving your body. You think that no man has ever managed to make you come like this, just with his shaft in you. His cock tirelessly brushing the right spot, in the right way. His tip stopping just where it has to, creating a mixture of pleasure and light pain, animal.
“Yeah baby. Just like that, fuck…” His grunts turn into moans. You love hearing him become so vulnerable, just for you. Your feet are crossed over his back as your pelvis keeps jerking him off, feeling him twitch inside you, over and over, until his body relaxes, balls empty and your cunt full. 
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He kisses you, and his mouth travels a path from your lips to one of your nipples which he takes in his mouth, sucking on it like a man who can't get enough. You squeeze his cock again at the sensation. He smiles, lightly nibbling your nipple.
“I’m not done with you for tonight,” he says.
“I hope so. I need...”
“What do you need, sweetheart?” he asks, sucking on your nipple.
“Need more. I need to feel you everywhere,” you answer, feeling the heat reaching your cheeks.
He straightens up towards you, still buried in your warmth. You vaguely feel him twitch in your core.
“Greedy, filthy girl. Always damn perfect.” He pulls out and you feel his cum dripping from your pussy. He removes his shirt from you and manhandles you so that you’re kneeling, and he presses the back of your neck to let your cheek rest on the pillow. He made it all so quickly that you barely realized you were now naked, ass in the air. 
And now he’s taking his time, savoring this vision of you. His hand runs down your back, and makes you shiver, until his fingers brush your ass.
“Everywhere, huh?”
“Yes,” you almost beg. He stands up from the bed and removes his clothes then comes back behind you. He spreads your ass cheeks and looks down, from your glistening pussy to your tight ring, totally offered to him. He spits on your ass and brushes your ring with his thumb, making you whine again.
“Gonna make me fuckin’ hard again, with that ass, Jesus... Tell me what you want, baby. I need to hear it.”
“Want you to lick it,” you stammer. “Please.”
“Mmm... And then?”
“Want you to fuck it.”
“Christ… Yeah, I’m gonna give you what you want. But I’m gonna fuck you with my cum, first. Want it where it belongs,” he says, pushing his load back in your core, then pumping your pussy with two fingers. He keeps fucking you with his digits as his tongue comes to lap at your ring. You're already moaning, not only because of his tongue and fingers, but thinking that some of his cum has leaked all the way out here, and that he's tasting himself as much as he's tasting you.
“That ass needs to be fucked, is that right?” he asks, nibbling the tender flesh of it, before adding “that tiny, little asshole wants to be spread by my fat cock?” and biting a little harder.
“Shit…. fuck Joel!”
His hand falls on your ass cheek, right where his teeth sink in lightly, making you whimper.
“Answer me, sweetheart.”
“Fuck! yes, yes! Need it.”
“Dirty girl,” he says as he leans down again. Licking your ring, pressing his tongue against your entrance in an attempt to open it. Over and over. Until it softens.
“I don't know if I prefer to eat your pussy or your ass. Both are so fuckin’ good,” he says, before diving in again, pressing his nose against the crack of your ass.
“Oh fuck, your damn mouth,” you whine, ass in the air, pushing it as far as possible towards his mouth.
“You love it,” he chuckles, making you hum in the pillow. You do love it. His dirty talk made you see stars as soon as he started to use it on you. Still sometimes makes you choke on his cock.
“You’re gonna take it? You’re gonna take my cock like a good girl?”
“Yes,” you whine pathetically.
He grabs his cock tightly in his hand, jerks it a couple of times. It twitches under his fingers, and points towards your entrance, as if it has a will of its own.
“Fuck baby… I'm so hard.”
He spreads your ass cheeks again, unable to resist the sight of your two holes. He feels, hears himself moan. Afraid to cum already, just with this view he has of you.
“Please, Joel…”
“Yeah, just… gimme a minute baby, please? I’m gonna fucking shoot my load in the sheets if you keep begging me like that.”
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He smiles when he hears you groan. “My needy, precious girl,” he replies almost automatically, while his mind goes blank. He doesn’t think, lets his instincts guide him, and pushes his cock into your dripping pussy, his thumb breaking through the barrier of your ring.
“Oh fuck,” you whine. 
“Yeah? You love that?” he asks, as his hips thrust into you. His other hand is hooked around your hip, using it as leverage. His eyes are glued to your ass and his thumb buried up to the knuckle.
“I still wonder how your ass manages to take my cock,” he asks, trying to regain his wits and his breathing, even though he’s not sure if talking about your ass is the right way to do it. He slows his pace and removes his thumb just long enough to spit there and watch his saliva flow down it.
“Fuck,” he growls, as he licks two of his fingers and then pushes one into your ass, the other just pressing against your entrance. He keeps fucking your pussy and works your ring. Your fist is clenched in the pillow, knowing that in a few minutes he will be thrusting into your other hole. You wait for it and it obsesses you. How you can take him is a mystery to you too. Since the first time he fucked you like this, when you asked him to, you didn’t understand what was happening. This need to feel him everywhere, the way your body wanted to be his. You assumed that was why it was possible, almost so easily. The pain not so strong, and the desire so heady in your mind that you were able to welcome him physically.
His two fingers slide in now, and he spits steadily at your opening, while he slowly keeps fucking your cunt. So slowly. Focused on your ass. Marveling at the sight of you tightening around his fingers, as your pelvis strains as hard as it can towards his digits. His mind is definitely lost now- in his desire, and in your croons.
“Joel…” his name falls from your lips, half moaned, half whispered. He doesn’t answer, keeps the same pace. You manage to smile, thinking he’s already on ground 0 looking at your ass, then repeat a little louder, “Joel.”
“Yeah?” he answers finally, slowing down and removing his fingers, caressing the curve of your buttock. He grabs your hips with his hands, fully buried in your cunt.
“I want you to fuck me, baby. I need you there. Please.”
“Shit. Ok, ok. I don’t wanna hurt you, need to prepare you properly,” he says, as he leans forward, his chest surrounding your back, and kisses the back of your neck.
“You won’t hurt me, Joel,” you breathe. “I’m ready.” He never hurts you, and will never. You know it, as he should. 
He kisses your back, says “ok” against your skin. Licks you one last time, from your pussy to your ring, pressing his tongue against it again, making you shiver at the sensation. 
He hesitates when he grabs your hips, he doesn’t really know why. You’ve taken him here dozens of times. But right now, he feels invaded by an emotion that grips him, even though you know each other perfectly. 
He remembers when you met. Heart broken, your trust in men destroyed. How you rebuilt it, both of you, patiently. And he’s moved by your total surrender, by the way you trust him. He thinks that you’re the best thing that ever happened to him. He tries to focus while his cock flows with precum, but he’s lost in his thoughts.
“Joel? Are you ok?” you finally say, feeling him static. He’s so different from usual, not… feral. He clears his throat before answering “yeah… huh… Yeah, sorry, baby. You’re just… you’re so beautiful and I love you so much. I’m sorry.”
He takes his cock in his hand and is about to position himself at your back door when you straighten on your hands and turn your head to look at him over your shoulder. Offering him the most beautiful of your smiles, which makes him melt even more.
“I love you too.”
You look at him, and god, he’s so beautiful. A few beads of sweat are dripping from his curls and his cheeks are slightly red. He seems so vulnerable at this moment. Your gaze falls down on his shoulders and chest. His biceps are tense, as he grips your hips and presses himself against you, his hard cock molding perfectly into the crack of your ass.
“You won’t hurt me,” you repeat. Nodding at him as he did about the vibrator.
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“Fuck… you’re making me lose my damn mind. Come here, sweetheart”, he says, making you lay on your back. He settles between your thighs and caresses your cheek, as his lips land on yours. Then he presses his cock softly against your ring.
“I wanna look at your pretty face while I fuck your ass, baby,” he says, spreading your thighs with his knee, then grabing one of them with his hand to put it on his back. You do the same with the other, open, offered, and he pushes in slowly. Eyes fixed on you. You close yours as you feel him slide into you and he brushes your cheek with his thumb.
“Look at me, sweetheart. Lemme see you. Lemme see what you feel.”
He’s so sweet you could burst into tears. So perfect. So you nod, ready to give him what he needs. And he sinks in, slowly, and like always you feel like you’re almost suffocating, for two seconds. Your brows furrow, as his do. He caresses your cheek, and the sensation disappears, replaced by the pleasure of feeling him there, that it seems so natural, that he’s made for you. You think about all of this, your eyes fixed on his, and he’s lost in yours. 
Until he comes to his senses, a little, and leans down to kiss you. His lips press against yours, and you feel him moan into your mouth. You nibble his lip before licking it with the tip of your tongue and he chuckles. He kisses you again, and it gets messier. His tongue slides between your lips and searches for yours, swirling against it. Your salivas mix together, while he rocks his cock fully inside you. He straightens up slightly and looks at you, before pressing his forehead against yours. “Damn, baby…” he breathes.
You hold him close. Tighten your legs around his waist, your arms around his shoulders. You freeze for a moment, as if you want to mark this moment in your mind forever.
“Fuck,” he says.
“I know, baby,” you reply. “But, can you move for me? It feels like you’re gonna tear me apart soon.”
He chuckles again, then slowly pulls out, leaving just his tip inside you. Pushes back in, letting out another “fuck.”
He takes a slow, steady pace, as you stroke his cheek and then tuck a strand of hair back into place.
“What are you doin’ to me sweetheart, mmm? Wanted to fuck you all night. To wreck you, just like you love it. But you're the one wreckin’ me.”
“Don’t I do it every time,” you tell him mischievously.
He laughs then whines playfully “You’re so right. I’m the victim here.” 
It's one of your favorite things about Joel. Laughing when you fuck. Laughing even when he fucks your there.
He slides in and out, tirelessly, and his crotch rubs against your clit.  
“And you can still fuck me all night, by the way.”
“Is that right?” He smiles, but you see him twitch. As if his emotions were taking over him again. “You’re mine, he pants. “All…fuck…fuckin’ mine.”
“I'm yours,” you reply, eyes fixed on him. “You're the best thing that happened to me, Joel.”
He kisses you again, as he keeps sinking in. You cup his cheeks in your hands to look at him, and he kisses your wrist.
“It's good, Joel. To feel you like that. So softly.” You feel yourself melting and put your hand on his heart. To see if he feels the same, even though his eyes don't lie, never.
“You're gonna make me come,” you whisper. “You feel it?”
“Yeah,” he smiles softly. He's so beautiful. So protective, so careful. Even when he's rough, he is. But right now, you feel like he's made of glass, ready to explode into a thousand pieces. A fragile material, hidden under a hard, reliable, calloused layer. Shaped over the years. Whose core he's let you see, step by step. 
And his thick layer is chipped, ripped open, just for you. Thanks to your senses, your sensations, your feelings, to both of you. And even if he is inside you, in your most intimate place, you feel that his fragility is exposed, and that he willingly offers it to you. Because he is safe with you. You think that there is nothing more erotic than a man who shows all his rough edges, all his cracks.
He's still thrusting in, slowly. You know he's trying not to come, not right away. Not before you do.
“Sweetheart, damn…you know how much I love to fuck you rough,” he murmurs, his hips and shoulders thrusting towards you. “But this. This is… so special. To feel you like this, and facing you. Being in you there, so slowly, and looking at you.”
“I know. I never felt something like this before.”
His lower belly still rubs against you, every time his shaft pushes in and out. He’s so big inside you. So… in his place. Your moans get louder as you feel your orgasm building. From afar. Like a ball of heat that keeps growing inside you. Your pelvis moves slightly more too, perfectly accompanying his movements. You squeeze your ankles together behind his back.
“You’re gonna fill me, baby?” you ask, keeping him against you, your hand on the back of his neck, his nose buried in yours.
“Shit… don’t say that. I’m already about to combust.” His voice is muffled, breathless, against your skin.
“I wanna feel you spurt in me. Right there. Want you to fill my ass.” You keep talking, because it turns you on. You want to come at the same time as him. You want the intimacy to continue and reach its peak until you both come. You want to lose your senses in his arms, at the same time as he loses them in yours.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck… you… brat.” He groans, moans, a mixture of all of that, and your eyes roll into the back of your skull.
“Please I need you to come sweetheart… oh fuck I’m gonna… I’m gonna…. fuck, baby…” he explodes in you, sending shots of cum deep inside you, and his jerks against you are the last push you need. You pulse, clench on him, your pussy empty and your ass full. “Oh fuck”, he growls again, feeling how hard you’re squeezing his shaft. He nibbles at your shoulder as your limbs go limp. His body leans against yours, and he’s out of breath as you slowly stop shaking.
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He doesn’t move, until he manages to regain his senses, his breathing, and everything that brings him back to earth, to the present moment. Then he straightens his torso, relieving you of his weight even if it feels like a weighted blanket, reassuring.
“Are you ok?” he asks, hands on your cheeks as he pulls out, making you feel desperately empty. His cum leaks out and you miss him already.
“Sweetheart?” His thumb brushes your cheek.
“Yeah… Yes,” you breathe. “Let me just… remember my name. And yours,” you smile, eyes still closed.
“You, little minx,” he laughs, grabs your waist and kisses your neck, and you wrap your arms around him again. You laugh too. You feel good.
“Damn, what was that? It was so intense, sweetheart.” He shifts and lies down facing you, pulling you towards him so that you’re facing each other.
“It was perfect,” you reply, nestling in his arms, in the middle of his chest, where nothing can reach you.
“Are you trying to bewitch me? Cause it’s… kinda working.”
You lift your head to look at him, and say, “You’re such a softie,” giggling.
He looks fakely outraged, before answering “oh yeah? You won’t be allowed to whine when this softie will make you use your safe word, next time he fucks you.”
“Mmm… remember me, when did I use it?”
He rolls his eyes exaggeratedly without answering.
“That’s right. Never,” you answer before kissing his collar bone.
He takes you in his arms and laughs, rolling you over so that you’re lying on him and kisses you.
“Come take a shower with me. Wanna take care of you.”
“Softie,” you taunt him, giving him your most mischievous smile.
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Same couple: 5 days collection
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jonnywaistcoat · 8 months ago
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Hey, Horrormaster Sims. I have a wildly different question that barely relates to TMA (Sorry about that) but its about your own process. Please, if you could, can you tell me how your first drafts made you feel? I'm on the fence about writing my own thing (not a podcast, and again, not Magnus related, though I have a million little aus for that delightful tragedy you wrote, thank you for that!) But I'm discouraged by the collective notion that first drafts are always terrible, because there's no ... examples I can solidly use to help the dumb anxiety beast in my brain that tells me everyone who is in any way popular popped out a golden turd and not, well, you know. One of my friends said 'Oh I bet Jonathan Sims's first draft was nothing like what he wanted' and I got the bright idea to just. Send you an ask, since you're trapped on this hellsite like I am. Anyway, thanks for reading this (if you do) and if you'd rather ask it privately, I am cool with that. Alternatively, you're a hella busy man with Protocol (you and Alex are making me rabid, i hope you know) and you can just ignore this! Cheers, man, and good words.
To my mind all writing advice, especially stuff that's dispensed as truisms (like "first drafts are always garbage") are only useful inasmuch as such advice prompts you to pay attention to how you write best: what helps your workflow, what inspires you, what keeps you going through the rough bits. There are as many different ways to write (and write well) as there are people who write and so always consider this sort of thing a jumping off point to try out or keep in mind as you gradually figure out your own ways of writing.
On first drafts specifically, I think the wisdom "all first drafts are bad" is a bit of unhelpful oversimplification of the fact that, deadlines notwithstanding, no piece of writing goes out until you decide its ready, so don't get too hung up on your first draft of a thing, because a lot of writers find it much easier to edit a complete work than to try and redraft as they go. It's also important to not let perfectionism or the fact your initial draft isn't coming out exactly how you want stop you from actually finishing the thing, as it's always better to have something decent and done than to have something perfect and abandoned.
But the idea of a "first draft" is also kind of a fluid one. The "first draft" you submit to someone who's commissioned you will probably be one you've already done a bunch of tweaks and edits to, as opposed to the "first draft" you pump out in a frenzy in an over-caffeinated weekend. For my part, my first drafts tend to end up a bit more polished than most, because I'm in the habit of reading my sentences out loud as I write them (a habit picked up from years of audio writing) so I'll often write and re-write a particular sentence or paragraph a few times to get the rhythm right before moving to the next one. This means my first drafts tend to take longer, but are a bit less messy. I'm also a big-time planner and pretty good at sticking to the structures I lay out so, again, tend to front load a lot of stuff so I get a better but slower first draft.
At the end of the day, though, the important thing is to get in your head about it in a good way (How do I write best? what helps me make writing I enjoy and value? What keeps me motivated?) and not in a bad way (What if it's not good enough? What if everyone hates it? What if it doesn't make sense?) so that you actually get it done.
As for how my first drafts made me feel? Terrible, every one of 'em No idea if that's reflective of their quality, though, tbh - I hate reading my own writing until I've had a chance to forget it's mine (I can only ever see the flaws). I suppose there's theoretically a none-zero chance they were pure fragments of True Art and creative perfection, but Alex's editing notes make that seem unlikely.
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beatrixstonehill2 · 6 months ago
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"I've officially been a Hooters girl for one year! Just look at how fucking big my boss has made my tits. I was a C-Cup when I got hired. Before I even got my uniform they were shoving these supplements in my face. I kind of love it but I know if I ever want a real job someday I'll have to chop these embarrassing things off. It's all my coworkers and I talk about, finally getting out of the job and getting a reduction or having these monster tits we were forced to grow chopped off completely. It sucks, cuz I liked my boobs and thought they were so pretty. But now look at these grotesque melons I'm forced to walk around with all day. Every guy assumes I'm some free-use breeding cow. I've given up trying to fight them off. My commutes are now just one giant hardcore porno shoot. Which is to say nothing about how many customers I have to tit fuck and suck off every shift. Men are so greedy.....
The second guys see these huge lactating tits of mine they go nuts. They could be walking arm-in-arm with their pregnant girlfriend and still run over grope my tits and fuck me. The girlfriends just watch and film it anyway, sometimes they even masturbate, watching their bfs fuck me and smack me around. It's pathetic how used to being a cum dumpster I've become. I don't even care or notice when cum is pouring down my legs anymore. I actually leave a pool of cum wherever I sit. I can't believe what this job has turned me into, all because my dad talked me into working here, calling it a great opportunity.
Well, I hope they like taking care of all the grandkids I'll be forced to push out now. Since we're all in various stages of pregnancy, as well (Two months along with batch two!). I always dreamt of my first pregnancy being with my husband, us cherishing our kids. Not me getting fucked against the door of a subway car as a literal crowd of men surround me, all taking turns fucking me. Giving birth not in a nice hospital with my husband at my side, but instead at work as my boss gives me tequila shots for the pain, as customers face fuck me while I'm pushing out triplets. I thought men were supposed to be more gentle with pregnant girls? I swear once my belly gets really big and round they go ballistic. Way more guys start hitting me, roughing me up just for fun as they fuck me in bigger groups. My boss actually likes it when I come into work with bruises on my boobs and belly or a black eye, says it gets the customers more aroused.
Now after all this sex and breeding and my breasts getting so big I feel like my spine is gonna snap any day, I can't focus on school at all. My one way out of this job and it's like if I go ten minutes without getting fucked or playing with my tits and pussy I get agitated and restless. Like I'm addicted to getting fucked, even if 90% of it is not consensual. I'm literally fantasizing about getting my clothes ripped off and fucked in public, humiliated and treated like garbage as I write this. What the hell am I becoming? I'm doomed to drop out and keep working here. How big are my tits gonna be in a year? My brain can't take this, it's like my mind is breaking and soon I'll be nothing but a cock-addicted pregnant bimbo with a 40 IQ and breasts that weight over 100lbs a piece. The worst part is, I keep thinking to myself..... is that such a bad thing?"
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