Shameful fanfic writer

22 I write fanfic will write nearly anything Don't be afraid to request

[first-time-fanfic-writer]

Item: The Friendship Bracelet Rarity: ⏶ Common

Which game character felt like a genuine childhood friend?

Feed your dashboard by answering my question, blogger.

Slime rancher, I played it with my older brother when it first came out 10 years ago

[heybaetae]

and if i said that tumblr thought they could get away with that update bc they know the majority of this website ignores the reblog option entirely compared to years ago, so they figured they could just BREAK the very foundation of how this website was built to operate and people would just shrug and be fine with that. please let this be a wake up call. our strong reaction to that change should start to reflect significantly in that ACTUAL reblog count under those notes we just fought for to stay untouched. fandoms and communities cannot thrive on likes alone. as much as tumblr has tried to turn this place in tiktok and twitter, it's not. posts need to circulate. art needs to be seen and shared. tumblr is not tumblr if this is not happening consistently because reblogs are the heartbeat of this website. please don't ever take it for granted. never give tumblr a reason to take away the thing that links us together and amplifies creativity. make reblogging a priority, PLEASE.

[woundedsoul12]

The fact there are more reblogs than likes on this post is a STATEMENT

[lackadaisies]

camping with dbf!simon ♡ piss kink.

𖧁୧ 🍦 dad's bestfriend!au. | mdni. — outdoor sex, piss kink (f), porn without plot, slightly dubcon, secret relationship, simon referred to as 'uncle simon' 1x (not by reader), simon calls reader 'kid' 1x.

a/n : gross! ik! and to the anon who requested tf141 piss kink (giving), ur time to shine might come later, this was just a draft i had lying around without finishing until now.

18+ only / all characters are 18+. | previous post. | all my fics.

likes & comments appreciated! let me know your thoughts please, reblogs are SO important ♥︎

“Nature calls,”

you announce to no one in particular while hauling yourself to your feet, mumbled words overtaken by the crackling campfire and the animated conversation that surrounds it. Simon's ears perk at the sound of your words—not for any deviant reasons in particular, not yet—hooded eyes trailing after your retreating figure as the shadows swallow you up. The sandy-haired man grunts to himself noncommittally, tucking his chin in and staring down the neck of his Budweiser, a shadow of deliberation passing over his angular features. He takes stock of the firelit faces of your friends and family sitting in a circle, before his eyes follow the spit of sparks from the fire, lying low at their feet.

“Off for some firewood.” Simonʼs burly frame unfolds from the fallen log, forcing his companions at either side to shuffle down the makeshift seating arrangement and make way for the behemoth-sized man. Nobody pays any mind to his sudden departure, which, curiously, always seems to coincide with yours—after all, he's just Uncle Simon, isn't he? Your father's hulking, phantom-like bestfriend who seldom speaks. No one thinks twice about it, and why should they?

They resume chowing on toasted sʼmores undisturbed like a herd of gazelles at a watering hole.

His emptied drink joins the rainbow of soda-lime bottles on the grass, the back of his arm dragged carelessly across his mouth.

Simon makes quick work of retracing your path through the woods with the efficiency of a seasoned hunter—or perhaps a SAS operator. The white flash emanating from your smartphone dapples through the foliage, the device, your sole source of illumination, perched precariously on a nearby boulder. He watches you stiffen, then slowly turn, at the crunch of leaves under Simon's boots, a brow ticking upward as he takes in your prim little set-up with a roll of toilet paper and one of those gimmicky-looking portable bidets you bought online. You're delightfully far from the rag tag life Simon himself has grown accustomed to. Simon doesn't blame you; his bestfriend raised you well.

“Simon,” you call his name incredulously, half-relief, half-exasperation as you clutch your racing heart over your clothes. “It's just you. Gosh, I thought a grizzly was coming to get me.”

“Just me,” he responds dryly, his gaze stuttering down your form as you drop the hem of your sundress back down. His clothes rustle as he folds his arms across his chest, leaning one shoulder against a tree trunk.

“Do you mind?” You raise your brows at the man expectantly, gesturing for him to look away with a flourish of your index finger. “I need to pee.”

The toes of Simon's boots bump against your feet as he covers the distance between you with three strides flat, the flashlight near you lighting the planes of his face from below, giving them a ghostly cast. “Go 'head, then. Who's stopping you?” His hands, large and heavy next to your shorter limbs, toy with the edge of your dress, bundling it upwards while goosebumps rise along your thighs.

“Quite literally you,” you retort, one hand on his chest as you back up against the tree bark—and hope for dignity's sake that he doesn't notice how your knees rub together, the pressure in your lower belly growing more potent.

“Just need a little taste,” he groans against the delicate shell of your ear, his lips roaming over your cheek until they successfully land on your warm mouth. You meep against his mouth before finally squeezing your eyelids shut in concession, humming sweetly for the few seconds of heaven you afford the Brit before pulling away, your lips disconnecting with a wet smack.

“Okay, enough, big guy.” An exasperated giggle peters past your lips despite yourself as you nudge his solid chest, attempting to fix him with a stern look in your eye and hoping he gets the message. Simon can be surprisingly willful, at times. “I got business to d—”

Cool air brushes your skin as he snags your panties down your hipbones, hooking his thumbs under the waistband. For a frightening moment, you almost fear your underwear dropping will force muscle memory to kick in and you'll lose control of your bladder—but your body doesn't betray you for the time being.

“Iʼm serious,” you mumble against his chest to no avail, thighs clamping around his thick wrist as he lowers his fingers to your bare cunt. “Maybe later.”

“Not later. Now.”

Simon interjects with his fingers breaching your entrance, your knees instantly buckling under you and sending your head towards his chest. The space between the tree trunk and his torso is tight, an arm beside your head barricading you in place as he thumbs your clit, fingers simultaneously curling inside you.

It tickles, almost. Calloused fingertips graze your slippery walls, tingles blooming up your spine like live sparks. Your muscles feel far too weak, too lax to contain your body's baser instincts, but you try, nibbling your lip and keening into his shirt.

“So wet,” Simon coos fondly, his voice drowned by the lewd squelch of his fingers twisting and pumping inside you. The moisture does little to help your urge to pee, and you feel a little put out by yourself for being so distracted by your bladder when you have a tall, rugged man eager to please you. Ah, the consequences of drinking 8 cups of water a day.

A droplet races down the inside of your thigh to your ankle, your walls tightening around his fingers with a pained-sounding grunt as you hop around in surprise, warmth flooding your belly.

The blood drains from your face. For a second, you just hope he doesn't notice and consider pretending nothing happened, but you probably couldn't live that down. Instead, the fabric of his shirt twists in your fists as you tug and push at him with a spillage of apologies. God, Simon is going to hate you forever and never be attracted to you ever again, isn't he?

“Holy crap, holy crap—Simon, wait. I think I just, a little, Iʼm sorry—!”

Simon’s fingers are still inside you nonetheless, your inner thighs rubbing against his wrist as he keeps at it. His lips brush the top of your head when he shushes you. “Baby, baby, baby,” Simon murmurs sedatively, patting your back, but you aren't hearing any of it.

“Wait, wait, wait. I gotta go, Si.” You stomp your foot in all seriousness, but Simon’s attention is caught by your arched spine, the heat in your face as you bend forward, knees pressed together as you tug anxiously at the hem of your dress. “I told you 'later.'”

“And I said we're doing this here and now,” Simon grunts bluntly, cocking his chin up sharply—brooking no room for arguement.

You whine from deep in your chest, letting out an exaggerated sob and throwing your head back in defeat and exasperation altogether. “Easy does it,” the man murmurs, not without a touch of vexation at your perceived insolence, and backs you up against the tree. He turns your back towards him and unceremoniously maneuvers you against the tree trunk with the fabric of your sundress bunched in his fist.

“Youʼre, like, insane. Iʼve never met someone so stubborn,” you whisper-yell incredulously, the petulant pinch of your brows visible over your shoulder.

The insistent throb between your legs sharpens as his fingers return, stretching your achy cunt full again. Simon grunts, satisfied, at the break in your voice. The heel of his palm smacks against your soft flesh with each snap of his wrist, your cunt dripping around his dextrous fingers.

Red-hot shame crawls up the back of your neck and into your ears as your hips buck uselessly against his hand, the pressure in your belly building while your walls spasm and squeeze around his fingers.

“Hold it,” Simon's voice rumbles behind you evenly—which to you is the only option either way. You don't understand his intentions.

“Simon, Iʼm trying,” you answer back, antsy, fingers fidgeting restlessly with your dress. You brace one hand against the tree, folding forward in your attempt to restrain yourself—anchored only by his hand, two fingers knuckle-deep in your cunt. Perhaps if you weren't so panicked, you'd think twice about how ridiculous the situation is.

You make a valiant effort—holding your breath, squeezing your legs together—and still, your muscles falter with each prod of his fingertips. Hopping from one foot to the other, you don't even notice the first telltale drops of liquid past his fingers, only that his hand feels treacherously good. It sounds wet and fucking filthy, his fingers sliding into your wetness without a hitch.

A high-pitched, pathetic string of 'ah-ah-ah's fall from your gaping mouth, accompanied by his name on your tongue, always. You don't realize you're tearing up until your vision is blurred, hips rocking back against his coarse hand.

His fingers pull out of you with your juices splattering onto the dry leaves below, your body sent stumbling forward against the trunk with a startled 'Oh!' He lowers his zipper and chucks the denim down his legs, then yanks your panties off your ankles and lines himself up with your entrance. Your panties land in the same pile as his crumpled jeans and boxers.

Your dripping cunt pulses in anticipation as he rubs himself against your seam, leaking down your inner thighs bit by bit. The agonizing stretch makes you preen and clamp your thighs together, your belly taut with his cock pressing against your stomach from the inside.

You feel a warm liquid travel down your thighs every time he bottoms out, the pressure on your bladder too much to bear. “Simon, please, I can't hold it,” you plead tearily. The friction of your body trembling against him as you shift your weight between your feet and cross your legs elicits a groan from low in his chest, his head falling back languidly.

“Shit, baby, let go f'me.” His palm caresses your lower belly before flattening against it, the large expanse of his hand nearly enough to cover your waist.

“What!? No, jus' hurry pull out—oh—stop, wait—”

Your pulse spikes so fast it’s dizzying, his long fingers pressing down below your navel now.

“Ssh, ssh. Youʼll feel better, luv, I promise. Come on, kid, lemme help you,” Simon murmurs, his other hand reaching up to fondle your tits through your sundress.

You feel the tightness in your abdomen, the way the slight curve of his shaft carves into you, warmth coiling inside of you until you're mewling. Your hips stutter before a rush of clear liquid sprays from between your legs, your clit pulsing insistently as your piss gushes around his cock. Simon groans into your neck as his cock continues to pummel your tender insides without abandon, warm liquids streaming down his cock.

“Atta girl. Fuck, that's good. You're so fucking good f'me. That's it, baby.”

You sigh breathlessly in relief as your cunt squeezes around him, almost crying out, a warm sensation blooming between your thighs. It sloshes out of you in a steady stream each time he pulls back, leaving only the tip inside before he plunges balls deep and it splashes against both your thighs.

“So fucking sexy,” Simon groans behind you, calloused palms covering your ass, groping and kneading. “Such a messy lil' girl. I fucking love it. Make a mess all over me.” His voice lowers to a guttural rasp as he gives your ass a squeeze, cupping the underside of your plush ass, thumbs spreading your folds open around his cock to watch your piss leak around him in sheer infatuation despite your shy squirming.

It lasts shamefully long—a slowly unwinding knot inside you as your full belly shrinks, like the longest-lasting climax you've ever had—the sound of the liquid hitting the ground louder than it has any right to be, making your ears burn with embarrassment.

The stream slows to a thin trickle between your legs, your chest heaving as he fucks the last few drops out of you. Your cunt pulses and throbs by the time it ends, your clit slightly swollen. He pulls his hard cock out just to watch the remaining droplets clinging to your folds, hunching over you and slapping the shaft against your glistening ass. You blink slowly in astonishment, both palms braced against the tree trunk as you peer back at him, shame-faced. “...I—I think I just came.”

♥︎  gentle reminder that likes & reblogs are some of the best ways to support authors here ! tysm in advance, petal !

ׄ ۪ 𓂃 ੭୧ authors note : 2 FICS IN 3 DAYS FROM DAISY?? who woulda thunk! i think this is my shortest oneshot, which is an accomplishment for a rambler like me! i tried to hurry it up. i’m not a fan of how simplistic my writing is here, but i wrote this after my john fic and didn’t get many notes on that one (where i'd worked rly hard on the writing style), so i wasn’t sure what style y’all preferred back then.

© LACKADAISIES ‘25. | all rights reserved. copying, translation, or ai training not authorized; ask for direct permission before you take inspiration from my posts.

[theorist-fox]

[first-time-fanfic-writer]

Reverse jaws

[gardenspells]

just a friendly reminder that this blog hates ICE

[first-time-fanfic-writer]

Alpha!tf141 plus new addition reader who is mainly used as a spy to canvas an area before they push forward. Omega!reader who is fully capable of protecting herself but the rest of the team are insistent on doing anything violent or rough for them. Reader who hates this and sees it as demeaning; they clearly are only doing this because of her second gender. Price and ghost are both paternal and projecting while johnny and gaz are both too eager to show off to the new member that they have been doing everything for them. All of them are too emotionally constipated to notice that reader is fuming.

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

ao3 turns 16 today.

reblog if you’re older than archive of our own

[first-time-fanfic-writer]

Couples costume with ghost as pyramid head and reader as a nurse

[first-time-fanfic-writer]

Big john from the song big bad john is so ghost coded. Also, i know there is something wrong with me because I lowkey have a crush on big john and all I know is that hes tall, big, and real quiet.

[first-time-fanfic-writer]

How did people fuck in the winter before heating in houses? Like under a bunch of blankets would be really difficult and next to a fire feels like a hazard.

[first-time-fanfic-writer]

I dont normally post about this sort of thing here but its somewhat related to fanfic. I am into some pretty dark things, mostly kidnapping fantasies (obviously only fantasy). I have also recently become permanently disabled and a full time wheelchair user. While its not very fun or cool, its also opened up new ideas in the yandere realm. Mostly, I would be physically unable to run or escape. This both feeds my paranoia in real life and feeds my messed up fantasies. Just thought I'd share.

[first-time-fanfic-writer]

Soap seems like the type to watch porn with his lover and get competitive with the dude in the video. Like trying to make them moan louder or cum sooner.

[readwritealldayallnight]

18+ MDNI

He was just on the cusp of a restless sleep, about to drift off for the night, when Johnny swore he could hear someone crying from the other side of the barrack walls

Poking his head out the door, squinting at the harsh fluorescent lights overhead, he spots Kyle swinging his own door open at the same time, half asleep himself yet obviously having heard something amiss as well

“Y’hearin’ tha’ too?” Johnny asks as his fellow sergeant nods through a yawn, stepping out into the hall now and shutting his door behind him, certain now that’s it’s you they’re hearing

The pair make their way towards the source of the muffled cries and whimpers, their half asleep minds slowly trying to fill in the blanks, wondering if they’re going to find you in the midst of a nightmare, hoping that’s the case rather than finding you hurt

Turning the corner, the noises have grown louder, more insistent, your sobs sounding more desperate when the duo stumble upon their captain, stood outside your slightly ajar door, casually leaning against the door frame, gaze locked on the sight inside your room

“Cap, what’s happen-”

“Is the lass-”

“Shush.” Price interrupts his sergeants questions, shooting the two younger men a look that has them instinctually standing taller, on alert

“Wha- where’s LT?” Johnny can’t help but to ask, surprised that the man hadn’t come running when your cries began

“Got his hands full at the moment.” Price answers simply, though he can’t help the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth when he tilts his head towards your door, inviting the sergeants a peek inside

Careful not to push the door open any farther than it is, the men take a cautious albeit curious glance in to your room, eyes immediately widening and pants inevitably tightening at the sight

Laying on your back on the edge of your bed, you haven’t a single thing on you apart from the sweat you’re exerting

Well, that and Ghost’s hands on you

Your bare legs are thrown over the lieutenants shoulders, thighs shaking as the man’s large hands grip at your plush skin, relentlessly squeezing and groping your naked flesh

They can easily tell it’s Ghost in there with you, based off his stature alone, though the skeleton balaclava discarded by his feet certainly helps confirm things, seeing as the man’s face is currently shoved against your cunt, with no sign of him coming up for breath any time soon

The three men stood in the doorway couldn’t turn their eyes away even if they wanted to, feet cemented where they stand, shamelessly watching as their lieutenant absolutely devours you

The sounds of Ghost’s sloppy eating, sucking noises, even his own groans of enjoyment against your pussy are hardly heard over the sounds of your pleasure

“Oh my god- please Si- I can’t- oh god!” You moan as Ghost seems to pick up his pace, your hips unconsciously grinding up against him as you edge closer to the precipice

You’ve got one hand gripping the bed sheets for dear life, while the other is snaked in his hair, tugging at his locks with every lick, suck, and kiss he presses against your throbbing clit, feeling as though you couldn’t possibly take any more, while also never wanting him to stop

The sergeants can hardly fathom what they’re seeing right now, bulges pressing uncomfortably against the zippers of their pants as their own arousal grows, wholly entranced by the sight and sounds before them

“Bleedin’ Christ-” Johnny can’t help but to whisper to no one in particular, intent on thanking whoever built the thin walls around here

“Y’either take a seat or take a hike, sergeant.” Ghost’s gravelly voice suddenly booms from within the room, never lifting his eyes off of you. “But y’know better than to interrupt a man’s meal.”

[first-time-fanfic-writer]

Bakugou is the type of guy to flick water at you in the kitchen when he's just washed his hands but get mad ASF if anyone does it back

[lordgolden]

“I’m just a girl” first of all you’re a grown ass woman second of all free yourself

[goatgoesmbe-deactivated20250814]

Ngl, ive been in this bubble where it's used for committing crimes

I didn't know it was about being incompetent until i read tags..

[cupidsworstcrime]

i thought it was supposed to be a "boys will be boys thing" like

'oh david hit you? he just likes you, boys are like that'

SO I GET TO COMMIT MANSLAUGHTER

Cause im just a girl

I had no idea it was like 'lol burn water, m just a girl'

kinda really hate that actually :/

[first-time-fanfic-writer]

Fun fact: the song that commonly went with this trend (just a girl by no doubt) is saying exactly the opposite of the trend. Videos under this trend typically stop right before the lyric finishes to say "I'm just a girl cause that's all you'll let me be"

[first-time-fanfic-writer]

Simon ghost Riley who accidentally works through his trauma after going to military therapist reader after an incident on base (he punched a douchy recruit) made the higher up send him to mandated therapy. He only went more than once because he thought you were hot and oddly weren't scared of him after he talked about particularly brutal missions

[first-time-fanfic-writer]

Ghost for sure kisses with his eyes open. Can't bring himself to close them and not be aware of his surroundings for even a second. if you were to peak while kissing his eyes would be wide open staring into yours like