#wohoooo
Huisang got Jiang Cheng started on the whole “tighter and tinier shorts” track, Wei Ying was happy to lend his very own tight and tiny shorts to his brother. Huisang stole the shirt from Mingjue. All for some seduction to happen at the gym. Probably some sucessful seduction. ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿
@the-pudding-is-a-lie Successful seduction indeed
I was seduced into writing fic
that’s a lie I volunteered as tributefor gym JC and chapter one is now on Ao3 ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
Hnnnnnnnnnrghhhhhh!!!! Everyone gotta take a look at this wonderful fic and leave Jin some love for it please! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)
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for the art guard server’s may prompt: myths, legends and fairy tales
[ID: a digital portrait of Nile Freeman as a water creature, only the top half of her face is visible over the water. Her thin locs float around her, making small ripples. Her eyes have a green tint and glow and her ears are pointed. The background is a gradient from dark green on the water at the bottom to a lighter shade at the top. Around her head is a glowing circle. End ID.]
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Caution for: BBU, pet whump, conditioning and associated tropes, “romantic” pet, noncon
Just Acting - Reflection
[First | Prev| All | tbc]There were chains in the Facility. Gleaming silver things reserved for pets who needed more correction than a brief round of discipline. 651 has hazy memories, somewhere in the white light that swallows early training, of posture correction, a chain linking her hands to the floor, her collar to the wall.
The chains in the Facility were cold and hard and unforgiving, but they were always clean. Bethany imagines a handler scrubbing the shining links with the same meticulous thoroughness that they use to scrub the pets clean.
The chain round her ankle now is black with filth – gritty, sticky, clinging oil that has left stubborn smears all over her skin and her clothes despite her best efforts not to touch it. She hatesit, with a depth of loathing that she hasn’t felt for anything since they took the shock collar away and swapped it for the one that is meant to be safe.
Cat and Mouse
CW: lady whump, graphic explicit noncon, captivity whump, escape attempt, mafia whump, knives, guns
A journalist is captured by the mafia after she learns too much about their leader. This takes place on the second night of her captivity
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Sam tiptoed through the darkness of the mansion, daring not to breathe in case it woke her captor.
Her clothes were miserably torn off her, fabric hanging in useless strips. She had no time to worry about that, she could deal with that later. She needed to get out of here.
But where was ‘out’?
It didn’t matter, she would find a back door. She could figure this out. She set her teeth together, bunching her fists to stop them trembling as she moved through the house.
She eyed a coat draped over a door and hastily snatched it up. It was too big for her, but it would keep out the biting cold on her bare skin. She winced as the ache between her legs throbbed.
She refused to think about it. Couldn’t think about it without feeling sick. Her feet touch smooth cold marble and she sees countertops, a stove and an oven loom out of the darkness. Modern and sleek, only the best for these mafia bastards.
She spied a knife block on the bench.
She pressed her teeth even tighter together, an inferno raging inside her as she ran over to it and yanked on the handle of one. A serrated bread knife.
She grimaced. She’d never stabbed anyone before. But after tonight, something had changed in her. Something feral that made her grip the handle tighter and imagine the blade ripping through flesh. Hot blood gushing from a gaping wound-
Then the light switched on.
“Better put that down. You could hurt yourself.”
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