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aevae
Planetoid
- Joined
- Nov 26, 2021
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ʜᎥ, ?~ (i'm an ethereal being living on the edge of the solar system, using my advanced, 18-dimensional consciousness to write cheapsmut on this wonderful website)
?~ (i'm an advanced AI with the sole directive of writing the bestannoyinggirls you'd wanna fuck )
!~ i am also a graphic design student in her early 20s living in the heart of Europa
!~ i've been writing for a while now; i'm pretty good at it
!~ generally like to write desperate girls that get in way over their head
!~ third person; past tense; variable post-length; insatiable bottom
!~ i like funny people; i like some girth; i like all genders and races
!~ 18+ always, all characters
!~ i need big setups; i'm not the kind of girl who can just jump into it .ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ Ꭵᴛ; ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ, ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ. -
(assume everything that's not in any column is in the middle one) ʏᴇꜱ, ʙᴀʙʏ! (fav)
anal
getting fingered in public
cum-stuff
mmf
choking
romance/passion
sex in a car
...
ᴀʟʀɪɢʜᴛ! (yes)
femdom
con
exhibitionism
clothed sex
rough
marking
bondage
DD/lg
voyeurism
dubcon
watersports
hypnosis
blackmail
...
ᴇʜ, ɴᴏ..
incest
noncon
mind control
cuckold
scat
snuff
gore
...
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Ŧᴀɴᴄʏ Ꭵᴅᴇᴀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛɴᴏᴛꜱ ©
ideas i always wanted to do: (☑ means taken) (bold means craving)
☐ the quiet girl; the popular football player; world where romance cliches do not exist yet
☐ a jaded detective (or PI); a starry-eyed rookie; a dirty NYC street shot in black and white
☐ two wizard freshmen; exploring each other's bodies in the back corner of the library
☐ a guy who just got out of jail returning to his girlfriend that waited (?) for him
☐ my blood elf WoW character; anal in Crystalsong forest
☐ prettiest girl in Manhattan; sucking dick and getting treated horribly
☐ shy virgin girlie meets the local dealer; in two hours, he's snorting coke out of her asshole
☐ bitter post-grad TA; freshman who really needs the extra credits; a locked office
author
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𝙶̷𝚎̷𝚝̷ 𝙰̷ 𝙿̷𝚊̷𝚛̷𝚝̷𝚗̷𝚎̷𝚛̷ 𝚃̷𝚘̷𝚍̷𝚊̷𝚢̷!!!
{ʏ/ᴄ} had built a pretty good life for himself: a steady job, a nice house, a beautiful truck, a little dog with weirdly large balls; it wasn't like all that just jumped to his lap—just a few years ago, he was living on minimum wage, sending half of it to his ex-wife and her two piece-of-shit-kids (that weren't even his). But a few opportunities, few months of an insane work ethic and he was living in the quiet suburbia that every American dreams of.
It was a little lonely though, living alone in a two-bedroom house.
One night, on a dark and grimy Saturday, he caught himself having a full on conversation with Betty, the dog.
Then, the next day, as he thought of his itinerary, he realized he had nothing to do. Truly, nothing.
So, he grabbed his laptop and start browsing those websites.
When he first saw the ad, he thought it one of those grow-your-dick-at-home type of bullshit ads, but some of that Sunday afternoon loneliness had moved his cursor and clicked on the ad. Before his rational brain could stop him, he was googling how to buy BitCoin.
A month came and went, and nothing happened. {ʏ/ᴄ} started to feel pretty stupid—he got scammed.
Then, on another lonely Sunday, sitting in his boxers on the couch, watching some unsavoury programming, he received a text message. The messaging app formatted it as a link, though he didn't recognized the format, no www, no .com. Still, though, fueled in equal parts by the loneliness and the curiosity, he clicked it. What opened was a catalog almost ghoulish in its appearance—from the tiny window of his phone screen, a grid of pictures of vaguely eastern-European women were staring back at him.
A few weeks later, he was standing in the arrivals lounge at the local airport, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, on the lookout for a huge camera crew and a moderator smiling from ear to ear. Or, worse, an FBI agent.
"Ты {ʏᴄ's name}?" someone said, pronouncing his name in an awkward accent he didn't recognize and tapping his shoulder. This is just a basic twist on one of "those" porn ads. I'm down to either not think about the logistics of this at all and just have fun, or go super deep into a world-spanning conspiracy, blah, blah, blah.
The most important themes are: ʜᴇᴀᴠʏ ꜱᴜʙ/ᴅᴏᴍ ᴅʏɴᴀᴍɪᴄ, ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ꜱᴛᴜꜰꜰ (ꜱʜᴏᴡ ᴏꜰꜰ) and ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ ʙᴀʀʀɪᴇʀ(ꜱ) -
𝚆̷𝚎̷ 𝚖̷𝚊̷𝚍̷𝚎̷ 𝚒̷𝚝̷ 𝟽̷ 𝚢̷𝚎̷𝚊̷𝚛̷𝚜̷ 𝚊̷𝚗̷𝚍̷ 𝚊̷𝚕̷𝚕̷ 𝚠̷𝚎̷ 𝚐̷𝚘̷𝚝̷ 𝚠̷𝚊̷𝚜̷ 𝚊̷ 𝚗̷𝚞̷𝚖̷𝚋̷𝚎̷𝚛̷ 𝚝̷𝚘̷ 𝚊̷ 𝚝̷𝚑̷𝚎̷𝚛̷𝚊̷𝚙̷𝚒̷𝚜̷𝚝̷
Every marriage has it's ups and its downs. {ʏ/ᴄ}'s and {ᴍ/ᴄ}'s one had been on a solid downward spiral for the better part of a year; a horrid mish-mash of 18th-century-like working hours, of insanely nosy family members on both sides, of unresolved resentment that was allow to grow and fester, and of untreated mental health diagnoses, all underlined by half-a-decade of less-than-mediocre sex and an unwillingness to change.
And they were running out of dishware to break during arguments...
Corona certainly didn't help—what a better treatment to a marriage than locking two people who can already barely stand each other into an apartment and not letting them go out. Suddenly, 12-hour workday didn't seem like such a bad idea.
Later, some time in spring, they both had enough. It was only a matter of time before either of them made the call to a lawyer, and though neither of them wanted that, they both knew the other one wasn't that far from it.
So, they decided to work on it.
First, they decided to start talking again.
That helped.
Then, they started to go on dates again, as much as the world-wide pandemic would allow.
That helped.
And then, they decided to address the whole sexual situation of it all.
But, after 7 years of a relationship, it's hard to let go of old habits.
And even harder to learn new ones...A classic (?) story of a marriage that's near it's end saved by actually starting to enjoy sex again.
The main themes are: ᴀʟʟ ɴᴏɴ-ᴠᴀɴɪʟʟᴀ ᴋɪɴᴋꜱ, ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴍᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ꜱʟᴏᴡ-ʙᴜʀɴ -
𝙶̷𝚛̷𝚎̷𝚊̷𝚝̷ 𝙶̷𝚒̷𝚛̷𝚕̷𝚜̷𝚋̷𝚢̷
In her younger and more vulnerable years The Baroness's father gave her some advice that she's been turning over in her mind. The memory faded as she came to live her own life, the life of a lady, a proper woman, as worries of adulthood and the cutthroat reality of a high-society lady: the ever-persistent rumours, the abhorrent pretense and awful realities.
When her husband died, her father's great wisdom came back to her. It was hard not to think back—what has she ever done that God decided to punish her so? Her husband wasn't a good man, but he was a proper one and without him she was no longer a proper woman. She attempted to keep her composure, attended the required social events to keep up with her reputation, basked in the unholy glory of being a young widow—cringed as man after man played their horrifying attempts at seduction, eager to capture the vast wealth she had now come to control after her husband.
Eventually, she grew fed up with the pretense. She opened her Parisian villa on the outskirts of London to all the way-wards, the artists without brushes, the actors without bread. All were welcome to share her place of living, so that she could bask in their presence and they live in the shadow of her money. Obviously, her blue-blooded brethren seemed to abhor her ideas, her freedom, though, slowly, with each dinner party the opinion turned. This isn't so much a story, as it is a background pitch. It is not necessary that The Baroness exists as a main character, she is introduce almost exclusively to explain the background of a Victorian noble house full of art-inclined people who don't need to worry about much of anything, save trying not to piss off their patron.
No main themes here, I want us to come up with something organic. Plus this could turn into anything. -
𝚈̷𝚘̷𝚞̷𝚗̷𝚐̷ 𝚕̷𝚘̷𝚟̷𝚎̷
Growing up in a heavily repressive, religious environment, you don't get much ability for self-expression. No one would know that better than {ʏ/ᴄ} and {ᴍ/ᴄ}; though they technically didn't grow up in the same environment—christian sects are weird—they both understood the experience very well.
They first met at their First Communion—they snuck away from the other kids and just talked to each other. They both seemed endlessly fascinating.
Then, they realized they were going to the same school, only {ʏ/ᴄ} was a year older. They kept talking during breaks and though both would've loved nothing but, neither of them had the courage to ask the other one out; at least until prom. He had his first and he, of course, asked her to be his date. They had both dressed up, they danced through the night, they even drank their first bits of alcohol and they ... talked until her parents had come to pick her up. Though nothing real came of it, they both got away from it with a strange feeling of destiny.
A few months later, a week before he had to leave for college, they shared a passionate goodbye kiss.
Then, her prom came and she, of course, repaid the favor. Once again, they danced the night away, shared a cigarette and ended up making out in his brother's car, before she shared her big news—she got into the same college as he did; they could finally be together away from the prying, judging eyes of their community.
At first, he was excited, but, as he went back the next day, his worries started growing. He had reinvented himself in the year he spent away, he was a completely different person now—will she still love this new (and improved) {ʏ/ᴄ}?still a WIP, but if you like it, message me about it!
to prove that you read this piece, please say that you know this idea is a WIP... if you don't, I will not engage with you about this idea -
ᴀ ʜᴏᴘᴇʟᴇꜱꜱʟʏ ʟᴏꜱᴛ ɢɪʀʟ ꜰɪɴᴅꜱ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪɴ ʟᴇɢᴏ ᴄɪᴛʏ?
{ᴍᴄ}'s always considered herself to be special. She was always pretty smart; skipped a class in elementary school and all that. Didn't have much friends—but who needs friends when you've got the Internet, right—never got much love from boys—but porn exists for a reason—and never quite understood what's wrong with her—but her Internet friends 'got her'.
It all came crashing down in college—she got into some preppy schools: MIT, Stanford, even Yale, but eventually decided on Berkeley, moved into a dorm, set up her computer and all that nice shit. Got bored of her mind her very first lecture. Decided she'd rather play League of Legends rather than attend the second. Then the third one. A month in and the only reason she left her room was for her weekly shower. She got to plat though!
But, she also started to grow bitter. Jealous of all the other girls she sometimes saw on the mandatory workshops, jealous of their pretty hair, their perfect skin, the smiles they shared with all the pretty guys around them. The bitterness grew and festered inside of her, further reinforced by the truly horrid online communities she was a part of.
Then {ʏᴄ} came into the picture. From when they first met, she hated them. Surely they were only talking to her to make fun of her, to display the contrast between her terrifying state and their perfect jawline, their perfect body, their amazing personality ...
But they never stopped. No matter how much she pushed against them, they persisted, always interested in what she had to say, always defending her in front of others.
Then, one thing lead to another...The idea is basically like a femcel lost girlie vs. a regular, normal person (girl or guy!). They can either have good intentions and genuinely just see potential in her, or some kind of malicious "mold her to my desires" kind of thing.
For the nice version, I imagine some: ᴘᴀꜱꜱɪᴏɴ, ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ, ɢᴇɴᴜɪɴᴇ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ, ʙᴜɪʟᴅɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴄ;
For the darker version: ᴄᴏʀʀᴜᴘᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ, ᴀʙᴜꜱɪᴠᴇ (ɴᴏɴ-ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴛ), ᴅᴇɢʀᴀᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴ;
For both: ᴅɪꜱᴄɪᴘʟɪɴᴇ, ꜱᴇxʏ ᴘᴜɴɪꜱʜᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ (ꜱᴘᴀɴᴋɪɴɢ, ᴇᴛᴄ.)
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