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One Nice Bug Per Day
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@livecrow
Call me Crow
MDNI - she/they - late 20s - fat - sideblog
I specialize in dark fics with fat reader self-inserts. Expect occasional, repetitive, and highly self-indulgent writing. Everyone who leaves me a comment on a reblog, in tags, replies, or asks shall receive a lil forehead smooch. Yes, you.
Masterlist
See #crow writes for all my writing.
I don’t even know wtf is going on in the new MW trailer, but as per usual I’m gonna just ignore whatever I don’t like even if it’s technically canon
Simon will forever be Price’s vicious guard dog in my heart and that’s all that matters
The first time you leave your house in days is to get some ice cream from 7/11 at 1:34am. You need something sweet to finally wash the taste of pennies out of your mouth.
You try and ignore the gas station's other occupants posted up by the slushy machines, but they certainly aren't ignoring you. The moment you walk in the door, the two men's gaze is locked onto your face like a heat-seeking missile as they wordlessly demolish some nachos. You slink back to the freezers and spend what feels like a painfully long time staring at the frosty glass, trying to find a Ben and Jerry's flavor without chunks.
"want me t' bump off your man then?"
He asks like he's offering you a cig—tilting his head just so. Staring into you as he crunches away at another chip dripping with molten chili cheese, black N95 bunched at the bridge of his crooked nose. At that, Mohawk perks up immediately, a grin swiping away the foul look he'd been sporting as he rips open what looks to be their third or fourth package of tortilla chips.
(The swelling has gone down, but you have a huge, blotchy bruise, approximately the shape of Florida, crawling down your jaw because you got your wisdom teeth taken out 4 days ago.)
have you ever been in an adhd eval and they pivot and start asking a bunch of unrelated questions after the expected ones, then follow up with:
hey...so.....have you heard of this thing, it's called 'autism'
...also not to make you self-conscious but you've been rocking literally this whole time, have you noticed that
i’m in the process to changing over to some new meds and am feeling Weird and bad.
now would be a great time to get abducted, fucked, and taken care of by someone because then I might be able to suspend my disbelief for a bit and imagine that i'm loveable and desirable despite it all lol
something something newly divorced professor price insisting on you coming to his 'office hours' at his home so he can bend you over the big leather couch (that his now ex-wife is actively trying to take) and slide his still-ringed finger in and out of your pussy as he shushes your protests of 'we shouldn't be doing this'
"won't be any trouble if you don't make any, sweetheart. nobody's got to know. now relax, need t'open up your tight little cunt a bit more so it doesn't pinch my cock right off."
you skipped his 'office hours' one time because you found out from his t.a. that his ex wife was coming over that same night to pick up her stuff, and simply wanted to avoid any sort of scene. that earned you a 'see me after class' written on your essay in stern red ink, instructions you reluctantly followed as you hung back while your classmates filed out the doors.
he doesn't say a word to you, just glares and jerks his head in a wordless beckon, an order to follow that you comply with dutifully, even though your heart is in your throat. the echo of your steps changes in tone as you leave the classroom, go down the hallway past his office, and out into the car park where he herds you into his car.
you can't help but feel every inch the stupid, silly girl you had always feared you secretly were as you ride back to his home in silence. all you can do is try your best not to stare at him, the way the greys are scattered in his beard, the tense line of his shoulders, the glint of the gold ring he still refuses to take off. instead your eyes drift to the scenery rushing by your window, catching glimpses of pedestrians, birds, and bicyclists as they go about their days, none the wiser of the exquisite hell you've found yourself in.
when he pulls into his driveway, you follow silently behind like a nervous shadow. he's upset with you, that's all you know- and your brain is running away with theories about what exactly he plans to do about it. your rushing thoughts come skidding to a halt once you're inside and you see how sparse the place has gotten since the last time you were here. the couch is gone, for one, along the coffee table and about half the photos on the walls. the side table that used to be next to his chair is also missing, replaced by a stack of hardcover books that goes perfectly to the height of the arm rest.
"you were supposed to be here yesterday." professor price breaks the silence, his words cold and flat. he closes the front door behind you, and the sound of it makes your stomach flip.
"sorry, i got busy with other classes." you lie, and the look he shoots you lets you know you've been made right away.
"it's a long term, sweetheart. you'll need to work hard if you want to keep your grade up- and that means attending office hours." he strides past you, dropping his bag of notebooks and assignments by the sole chair left in the living room. god, she really cleaned him out, huh?
from the kitchen you can hear him pour himself a drink. he won't offer you one, you're sure of it. he never does, and you've never asked for one- everything you do here feels like an imposition somehow, even when he's filling you with cum.
price leans against the door frame, drink in hand, loosening his tie as he looks you over with a critical eye.
"strip." he orders so suddenly that you jump a little. there used to be a long side table up against this wall that you'd always put your folded up clothes on, but it's gone now, leaving only an indent in the carpet where it used to be. as you slowly, meekly undress, the chill of the air against your newly exposed skin sends a shudder down your spine. you gently place your clothes on the ground, right where the table used to be.
price doesn't bother watching you undress, instead opting to saunter into the next room, returning with an ornate, overstuffed pillow the he drops unceremoniously onto the floor between his feet as he pulls off his jacket and settles into his chair, placing his drink on his improvised table.
there's something about being completely naked in a home that isn't yours, standing next to a man who's fully clothed and paying you no mind as he unbuttons and rolls up his shirt sleeves before digging into his bag and pulling out a stack of papers. he only deigns to throw you a quick glance before sliding his readers low onto his nose, uncapping his red pen with his teeth.
"kneel." price jerks his chin towards the pillow, the stern straight line of his mouth ticking up in the corner as he observes your instant obedience in his periphery. he doesn't even look at you as he begins to read the student essays in his hands, eyes sliding across the pages and only pausing as he scribbles his criticisms in the margins.
"take it out."
he doesn't even deign to look at you as he continues, flipping a page and sniffing loudly as he concentrates on the words in front of him. with a hard swallow, you scoot forward on the ornate, navy blue pillow under your knees, leaning in closer to undo the professor's belt and fish his fat, limp cock from his trousers. it hardens a little bit under your attention and touch, but before you can get to work price reaches out and grips your chin, thumb hooking behind your bottom row of teeth.
"you're just gonna keep it warm f'now. no sucking, no muckin' about. just sit there and hold it until i'm done." he shakes your jaw a little. "hear me?"
you nod insomuch as you can with his tight grip on your chin- but you can tell he feels it when he smirks down at you, letting you go as he reclines further back into his seat, free hand reaching for his whiskey.
"go on, then."
~
it's hard to say how much time has passed with his soft cock in your mouth, forcing you to breathe through your nose as you hold your jaws apart so as not to catch him on your teeth. an ache has set in- not just in your jaw, but also your knees- and you can't do anything about without risking everything. all you have here as you kneel in silence is time to think; about your current situation, the situations you've found yourself in before, the ones you'll likely find yourself in again.
after all, price's recommendation is key to getting your dream job post-graduation. loathe as you are to admit it, that's why you're here. none of the other professors in the department will look you in the eye or speak to you, and all of them have turned you down for a recommendation- something your most paranoid thoughts suspect might be price's doing.
he still hasn't written it yet, though. he brings it up on occasion, usually when you're on your knees or stuffed with his cum, so he clearly hasn't forgotten. he's just holding it over you for as long as he can, using it like a carrot on a stick- and the most degrading part is that not only do you know that, but you're fairly certain that he knows that you know.
that was your first mistake- trusting him with your hopes and dreams. you've told him about all of your professional aspirations, and now he holds them over you, making you do tricks to 'earn' your goals. a quicky in his office for a scholarship letter, a blowjob for access to a rare reference material- you're halfway convinced he's going to require anal for the conference you mentioned wanting to attend (but can't afford).
the chime of his cell phone brings your thoughts to an abrupt halt, and you debate pulling off of him as he sets his papers down and leans to pull his phone from his bag. surely he'll want to take a call in private, r-
oop. nope. his hand is on the back of your head, holding you in place, a silent reminder that your job isn't over until he says it is. you watch him through your lashes as he sneers at his screen before tapping it with his thumb.
"bit busy." he says in lieu of a greeting, tone gruff. you can't hear the other person very clearly, but it's a woman's voice- and she sounds just as unhappy to talk to price as he is to talk to her. for the first time in what feels like ages, price looks down at you, blue eyes impassive as he watches you watch him, lips stretched around his rapidly hardening cock.
"told you just yesterday that i don't know where the bloody thing is. if i find it, i'll let you know." he snaps into his phone as his cock twitches to life on your tongue. his broad palm slides to the back of your neck- not pushing, just holding. reminding: stay. be quiet. be good. don't do anything unless asked.
"what would be the point of stealing it, cora? why? to prolong keepin' you around? joy that you fuckin' are?" he spits, sarcasm dripping off every syllable. the voice on the other end of the line says something that prompts price to roll his eyes and huff indignantly.
price doesn't even say goodbye before he hangs up and practically throws his phone in his bag. he reaches for his whiskey and drains the glass with two loud gulps and a disgruntled sounding sigh before turning his attention back to you.
"suck."
your jaw is screaming at you, aching in a way that you suspect it will take some time to recover from, but you still don't hesitate to get to work sucking down professor price's cock and taking him as deep as you can. his hands cage the sides of your head- not forcing, just holding- ready to help you adjust your speed and tempo to his liking... but at this point, you know how he likes it. you've been in this house and on your knees for him enough times to know what he likes- that's how much this job means to you. you'll do anything- including suck off an old man while he argues with his ex for it.
the phone rings from the depths of price's bag- presumably the ex to tell him off for hanging up on her- and it spurs him to hold your head still, hips jerking off his seat to properly rut into your throat. all you can do is hold onto his thighs and take it as you try to time your breathing. tears and drool stream down your face, the wet ghlk ghlk ghlk of having your face fucked echoing off of sparse walls.
"thassit, good girl, take my fuckin' cock- yeah, yeah, fuck, attagirl sweetheart. go on, grind that pretty pussy on your pillow. want you to cum with my cock in your throat. go on-" he moves his foot, shoving it under the pillow between your thighs, raising it up just enough for you to grind down on.
as if on instinct your hips start to move, sliding the plush fabric of the pillow against your cunt, seeking friction. the situation has gone from understimulating to overstimulating like the flip of a switch- the heat building in your core, the ache in your jaw and knees, the burn in your lungs and thighs, the sounds of gagging and groans echoing off the walls in harmony with your racing heartbeat in your ears and the cell phone ringing in his bag- it's almost too much. you feel feral, wild, a creature of pure instinct, humping and sucking at his cock- chasing pleasure like it's all you're made for. every lesson you've taken, every lecture you've heard, every book you've read- out the window completely. your head is empty save for two orders-
please him. cum for him.
you can feel the way your body jiggles and shakes as you hump the pillow, chasing your pleasure while trying to keep your head still enough for price to fuck. you've got the timing down now-the cant of your hips, the pacing of your breath, swallowing down around price as his cock dips in and out of your throat, threatening to make you gag. all the while, price is panting out what a good girl you are, how he likes an obediant girl, how good your big fat ass looks at this angle, how clever your mouth is, but none of it affects you like when he reaches down to squeeze one of your jiggling tits and growls out something you'll never forget:
"swallow it all and i'll get you into that fucking conference."
it's like a thousand fireworks went off in your skull, whiting out your vision and making you scream around his cock. rough hands hold your head firmly in position as your mouth fills with cum, and somewhere in the back of your cum-addled brain you remember to swallow, to suckle at his softening cock until every last drop is in your stomach.
you list to the side, cheek resting on his thigh, both of you panting to catch your breath as his dick slides out of your mouth, connected to your bottom lip by a crystalline strand of saliva.
"not done with you yet. you'll stay the night and i'll take you back in the morning." it's not a debate. it never is. you know from experience that he'll order chinese, fuck you in the shower before bed, and fall asleep with his hand up your sleep shirt, holding one of your tits.
he pats you on the shoulder, wordless encouragement to sit up so he can tuck his cock back into his trousers and order food delivery. sore as your jaw is, eating sounds like a real task- you just hope you're less achy by the time dinner arrives.
price grabs his phone and saunters to the kitchen as you slowly get dressed again, knees popping loudly as you stand. even from where you're standing, the wet stripe on the pillow is obvious, glistening in the light, making your face heat as your shoulders slowly climb up towards your ears. so fucking embarrassing.
you're just pulling your panties back on when you hear price talking through the kitchen door.
"it's john. found the bloody pillow you lost, i'll drop it by your lawyer's tomorrow. don't bother callin' back, i'm still busy."
The fun thing about a spoiled captive is how easy it makes fucking with them. Oh? I'm the monster? You have blankets that would've cost you a months salary, all your favorite books and snacks (I watched through your window to make sure ♡!), lots of room to place in, and I've never laid a hand on you. I didn't even beat you when you tried to hurt me, even though it made me so sad to see you angry at the person who loved you most. The collar doesn't count, silly! It's not my fault you tried to take if off, I told you it would shock you if you did. You should be grateful to me. I took you from a stressful job and a chaotic world and put you in a safe place. If you just start cooperating, I might let you on walks. We could have picnics and you could wear flowers in your hair and never worry about getting lost when mr. tracking chip is in your collar!
But if you insist that I'm the bad guy, I'll show you what a monster is.
It's very important to me that my pets are well taken care. If I find that one is taking poor care of themselves, I'll have to remedy that. So if I find out you've been forgetting meals, you'll find yourself cuffed or tied to a chair and being spoon fed like a child. Helpless and unable to eat like an adult, your owner slipping the spoon into your mouth and cleaning up any dribbles.
If you can't be responsible enough to take care of yourself properly, clearly you need help from your owner, and I'm happy to keep my pets healthy. If it makes you squirm or cry from humilition, well, hopefully it'll be a reminder. It'll get my cock hard, at least. Now say "Ah!" Or would you rather I go get the spider gag?
I loved you housekeeper fic!!!! I actually worked as a housekeeper for a bit and it made me kick my feet imagining myself as the maid because I am petite and plus size 😂! But I would for sure not be scared of Ghost 😜 I’d be purposely bending over all the time and cleaning on my hands and knees in front of him 😈
Yes!!! Glad you enjoyed it! ❤️
thinking of soap going trail running. shirtless, sweating. he's wearing a running belt or maybe a vest loaded with water and snacks. a little clip-on speaker. blasting something fast and loud, with a high bpm and energy. maybe he's whistling along. humming. his pace is a steady and relatively smooth jog despite the terrain. he's trying to beat his pr.
and then there's you, some yards ahead, running for your life and barefoot, after this weirdo chased you out of your camp.
Soap tasting you like he's sampling cocaine, rubbing your pussy-juice on his gums while making insane eye contact…
mdni 18+ // noncon
Hrmm scratching my chin... thinking about medieval fantasy... thinking about unicorn!reader, so soft living in her flower meadow :') thinking about big, mean, spiky knight ghost... hired as a mercenary by the king to find her and steal her :')
Thinking about poor soft unicorn!reader making a deal with a horrible man to stay in her little slice of paradise... </3
Yes, you'll take him as a husband. Yes, you'll spread your legs and let him bully his fat cock into your sensitive cunt :') his battleworn hands holding your thighs open, squeezing and rubbing your downy soft skin :) breeding a baby into you, moving into your little cottage, trampling your flowers. They say unicorn tears are life giving, so he licks those off your cheeks when he fucks you :'(
anyways,
soap's favorite post-coital activity is laying with his head resting on your big, soft belly, listening to the whalesong of your guts under a cushiony layer of fat, soaking in the heat of your skin into his face and feeling your fingers card through his hair as he catches his breath and sinks into post-nut sleepiness
Not trying to be a bitch, as I know it's a me problem, but someone needs to gently talk me down from the ledge next time I get enticed by BookTok to check out of that viral dark romance again
💕Love love LOVE💕 housekeeper x ghost!!!! How far does it go with them, does he evenually just disappear and leave her alone??
Thank you!!! I'm glad you like that one! I'm personally really fond of the idea. Still have more in a wip somewhere from Simon's pov. That, and a separate thing with John.
For those kinds of concepts, it completely varies depending on my mood. Like, there are multiple different realities that coexist in my noggin with that Simon and reader.
Of course I'd have a dark!Simon version that takes reader him with him. Naturally. It'd be just like someone nabbing a pillow on his way out. Happens all the time. Upon fucking the shit out of you, he'd be stuffing you in some oversized tote and taking you home as a souvenir. What else are those luggage carts for if not smuggling out the pretty, fat housekeeper?
A more "normal" sleazy!Simon would just continue ogling you at every opportunity for the duration of his stay, doesn't take it 'too far'. Would fuck you if given the opportunity. Absolutely gets a candid of your ass as you're bending over to tuck in the bed. As a memento.
Alternatively, if I were someone talented and disciplined enough write multichapter fics, there's some delicate, slow-burn scenario where canon!Simon sneaks his way between your legs in a more socially acceptable way. You'd end up together or at least become pen pals that sext.
Honestly there's a lot of ways things could go, and I like a lot of them for different reasons.
The optimal me would be posting 'chose your adventure style,' same concept 4 different ways, lol. Alas, regular me has undiscoverable ailment that makes it so I can barely post one.
(Government Asset!Soap) - Final update: 8/11/24 Banner by @sentientcave
An old contact, Kate Laswell, calls you in for a favor. You should have known that when it comes to a loan, the government will always overspend their balance. Especially for an asset.
(The concept comes from @ceilidho’s concept/drabble of “military asset Soap” and heavily inspired also by @391780’s Nikto version. Please go check out theirs because they’re brilliantly written.)
Content:Threats, Dirty Talk, Objectification, Dub-con, Non-con/Rape Specific warnings at the start of each chapter
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Dividers by @cafekitsune
Imagine fat!reader being the secretary of the 141, and overhearing the guys chat, right?
"So, what do you think of the new secretary?" You hear Kyle's voice float through the briefing room connected to the extra file storage you're rummaging in. You know you shouldn't listen but...they're always so nice, and you're curious what they think.
"The fat one?" Is the first thing out of ghosts mouth, and it makes your stomach drop.
Of course. What were you thinking. You silently grab your files and make to leave, but catch ghost adding "cute thing, that one. Fuckin' hard to talk to without gettin' bricked."
What.
"Seriously, ghost?" Soap laughs, his chair creaking "i mean, me too, but just from talkin? That's sad, man."
"Can't help it. Not with that fuckin' tummy," he sighs dreamily, as if your fat stomach is the kind of thing he sees in his fantasies. "An' those thighs, soap. The things I'd do to get my mouth on them, mark 'em up..."
Oh god. That is not what you expected to hear. You should leave. This is definitely an invasion of privacy but...it's about you, so it should be fine, right?
"And that chest, gaz, perfect fuckin' tits. Wanna rub my cum into them." The image makes your face burn red hot, stomach turning in arousal at the thought of ghost jerking off onto your chest.
"You're depraved, ghost," gaz mutters at the same time soap replies "good on you, lad,"
...you should definitely leave before your knees give out.
You refuse to meet ghosts eyes for the rest of the week, though he doesn't know why gaz keeps throwing you knowing glances. Fuck.
