#kudos/comments appreciated (but no pressure)

[meownotgood]

it felt amazing to finally see that green checkmark on ao3, to finally move the full fic to my finished folders on docs, to finally say with my whole chest that it's really completed...

I'm proud of myself and what I managed to make, I'd been working on this fic for over a year, and I felt a lot of doubts while writing. I didn't expect to write so much. I often thought I was saying too much, or the fic wasn't good enough. when I reread it, I realized it wasn't perfect, but it doesn't have to be. I wrote something that was so unabashedly me, and I'm so grateful for that feeling. I'm so happy that I can write what I enjoy, that I can be myself while doing what I have always loved the most. I learned and progressed, and I can feel only excitement for whatever I write next!!

thank you for your patience, and if you end up reading, thank you so much, from the bottom of my heart 💞

I took off work tomorrow to celebrate lol (actually because I'm still sick but we're calling it a celebration). I don't know what to say next so here's some cute pictures of aki. three cheers for fic completion 🎉🎉🎉

[seamayweed]

- the first is an ask about mad dog, when there were still only 3 fics in english for the choi kang-woo/kim min-joon pairing, mine included (mine, actually, being the first one in english); the two characters kiss in every single one of these fics.

- the second is a conversation in the replies of an mctna post about a banghwi scene. while the ship is personally not my cup of tea, it is an excellent and strongly canonically implied pairing and it makes me angry on behalf of the amazing, extremely talented authors who do write fic for this underrepresented ship. whether the complaint is about the first few pages of bangwhi fics (which only span two pages) or the first few pages of mctna fics in general, i don't recall a single one of them being objectively 'bad' - just bc it might not be your cup of tea and some of the tags might squick you out, doesn't mean it's 'bad'. and even if it was, who's to say the fics aren't still someone's favorite, akin to a gem they've found bc they were looking exactly for a story like this for years?

i'm just... so tired. why do ppl do this? why do they love to dunk on others' fics and hard work so much? do they think that tumblr is magically devoid of ao3 fic authors and that we won't stumble on these conversations and disparaging comments about our fics, especially if the posts can be found in the very public main tags?

not to mention that the fandoms in question are already extreeeeemely tiny and the fic for them is already very rare. can't we even muster up some bare modicum of fandom etiquette and respect in small fandoms like these? i would go on to say that while it's perfectly fine to not like a fic and talk about it, these are conversations that should have been best kept in private DMs - or at least outside of the main tags.

the thing is it's super, super discouraging and does the very opposite of making more ppl feel inclined to write for your favorite small fandom or rare pair. with some ppl tending to be so harsh and judgemental (and honestly entitled) when it comes to fic, it doesn't surprise me at all that so many ppl are so insecure about their writing that they don't dare to post their fics for fear of not being 'good' enough. i find that really sad since fic is all about having fun and doing something you love and sharing that joy with others!! it's not about being objectively 'bad' or 'good'. and tbh i've never read a fic that i can't say at least one (1) good thing about.

so why don't we do more of that instead of complaining about fic where everyone can see it?

[orcelito]

Actually is there any cure to feeling like I'm a failure of a person if I don't keep posting fic regularly. Like I know this is not a job or anything. It's just for fun. But with how most people comment only within a day or two of when something is posted, I end up with weeks and weeks of no comments, even when the hits on my works still go up, so it makes me feel rather forgotten.

Like idk. This is probably just feeling worse bc im apparently phenomenally neurotic today. But I wish people commented on older fics more.

[michyeosseo]

semidoyi backstory;

title taken from lyrics to lifts, c/o my 아두 derangement playlist ♡

[myownwholewildworld]

uniformed!joel one shot - the police officer

series masterlist | main masterlist | part ii

pairing: police officer!joel x f!reader.

summary: you're driving back home and, unbeknownst to you, you've committed quite a few traffic offences, noticed by the one and only police officer, joel miller. he's not gonna let you get your way that easily.

a/n: umm hello?? idk what happened, but here we are. i threw this idea to the wind, people seemed to like it, so i started typing and this is what came out. read the warnings and do not judge me please lol this is inspired by this and this ask, so kudos to them! so basically i have decided to start a series of one shots where joel miller wears different uniforms. YEAH, i know, i'm not okay but that's okay. if you guys have any suggestions for this series, my askbox is open! also, i've decided that if i/you guys want, i can write the same uniformed!joel more than once (e.g. two fics of police officer!joel). if someone is interested in being in the taglist for this series, please do let me know. anyways, i do appreciate all comments, reblogs, likes and asks. as always thank you for reading! <3

warnings: 18+, mdni. no outbreak AU. dark theme. filthy smut. dub-con. age gap, no age gap, you choose (joel is mid-late 40s, reader is at least of legal drinking age). power imbalance (joel is a cop). alcohol consumption (reader is sober by the time it happens). fingering. squirting. oral (m and f receiving). mouth fucking. slut shaming. cheating. rough, public sex. unprotected piv. creampie. joel is a bully and a dick, basically, so be warned. alternating pov. no description of reader apart from having hair that can be pulled. not proofread so i'm sorry.

w/c: ~4.6k.

tagging some people who seemed to be v interested (please let me know if you want to be removed, no pressure!):

@fartcloudfartcloud @liciafonseca @fan-fiction-floozy @sweetlummie

“Shit”, you mumbled as the car keys slipped off your fingers.

You crouched down and blindly dabbed the asphalt, your phone falling off your hand too. You grunted in frustration ― maybe you did drink a bit more than what you had intended. Not to the point where you thought it would be dangerous, otherwise you wouldn’t be driving home. You were already clumsy when sober, so this was no sign of anything, really.

The keys had tumbled under your car, so you got on all fours and bent over to reach. After a few trials, you finally got hold of them. Steadying yourself on the handle of the driver’s side of your car, you got up. Your tiny, fitted skirt had scrunched up at your waist, so you pulled from the hem to bring it back down. Looking around, you hoped you hadn’t flashed anyone.

You had dressed up for the occasion. As you grew older, your group of friends slowly drifted apart, so agreeing on a date and time to meet up had been a fucking miracle. You had been out since midday and sipped on many margaritas to quench your thirst. But knowing you would need to drive back home, you had stopped drinking a couple of hours ago. If you could, you would have gotten hammered. Living in the outskirts of Austin sucked.

You managed to finally open your vehicle and sat down. You hunched down, avoiding the steering wheel, to undo your heels. A satisfied sigh escaped your lips when you took them off ― your feet were hurting so bad, you questioned all of your life choices. A minute later the motor roared awake, and you were on your merry way without a hitch.

That was until you drove out of the city center onto not very well-lit roads. You were driving through an industrial estate when sirens went off behind you. Clicking your tongue, you looked through the rearview mirror, thinking it may be an ambulance asking you to give way.

Ah, no, you were very mistaken. It was a freaking police car, and it seemed like it was asking you to pull over. Great, just fucking great, you thought.

The headlights blinded you, so you couldn’t see the man approaching your car. Then you heard a tap, tap, tap on your window, the officer dazing you with the torchlight. You inhaled deeply, putting on your best smile, and rolled down the window.

“Good evening, officer. What can I do for ya?”, you battered your eyelashes at him, still dazzled by the torchlight.

Maybe if you played all sweet and innocent, he would take pity on you and let you go.

However, you were met with a deep, husky voice.

“License and proof of insurance”, he barked, no good evening miss, no please, nothing. So rude.

When he put down the torch, you caught a glimpse of the guy’s face. Bearded jaw with a prominent moustache, brown curly hair with slivers of silver, an attractive hooked nose, and some devilish hazel eyes. He was in his mid or late forties and was so fucking handsome you almost drooled at the sight.

You bit your bottom lip, a lopsided smile curling at the corners.

“Yes, of course, officer”, your voice was sweet and smooth as you bowed over the passenger’s seat, your boobs casually resting on the steering wheel.

You opened the glove box and handed him the papers, faking the most innocent, girly look you could muster.

“Is there something wrong, officer?”, you asked, leaning on the door frame, gifting him with the tentative sight of your deep cleavage.

His eyes wandered off the papers he was holding and lingered where you intended. You read the tag on his shirt: Officer Miller. Well, Officer Miller looked damn good in that tight uniform. The black shirt clung to his flexed biceps, the buttons slightly giving way to the bulge of his chest, the belt hugging his waist and… good fucking lord, those thighs, the size of a rugby player’s.

Your mouth watered.

You would lie to yourself if you said you were not affected by his presence. In fact, your damp cunt might as well fucking disagree with you. You pressed your knees together, unconsciously looking for some relief to the sudden wet heat gathering in between your legs.

His eyes drifted up lazily, locking on to yours. You swore a muscle on his jaw twitched.

“You were speeding, doing 40 on a 30-mph road. And your headlights are off”, he replied, his tone raspy.

Fuuuuuuuck, that’s why I couldn’t see shit. Were you that drunk? You didn’t feel like it.

Your face expression didn’t flinch, playing dumb might just do the trick. So you giggled, smacking your forehead with the palm of your hand.

“Ah, silly me. But it was well lit up until now, sir, so no harm done, right?”, your honeyed voice pleaded. “I swear this was a 40-mph road a couple of months ago?”

“It was but got changed. Did you not see the road sign?”, he seemed to be very annoyed.

You had no time to answer, because Officer Miller pointed to your lap. For a second you panicked ― surely your arousal had not drenched your clothes, right? You were aware of how wet your pussy was, but not to that extreme. Right? You looked down ― your phone was resting on your lap, but nothing else. A wave of relief overcame you and then you glanced up at him, confused.

“You were talking on the phone while driving, I presume.”

You gasped and promptly shook no with your head.

“No, no, officer. You see, I left it there when I got in the car, I forgot it was on my lap. I promise I wasn’t texting or anything like that.” Your explanation was genuine, but he cocked a brow. “I wouldn’t lie to you, sir.”

“Why? Because you’re a good girl?”. That question caught you off guard and turned you on at the same time, sending shivers down your spine. Your clit twitched. You gaped and nodded unwittingly. “I see. Step out of the car.”

Your heart was racing, attempting to jump out of your chest. Maybe you had been too suggestive. But he was the embodiment of the law, surely the officer had had his good share of temptation and would not yield so easily.

You got out of your sedan, slightly dishevelled, and tugged at your skirt so it would stop riding up your thighs. Officer Miller had taken one step back, his eyes measuring you from top to bottom, loitering on your breasts. His tongue quickly darted out to wet his bottom lip ― you were mesmerised by the simple gesture and pondered how it would feel if you choked on his tongue.

That thought made your cunt gush some more. You pursed your lips ― eyes on him, trying to convey normalcy.

“You’ve been drinking and have also been driving barefoot. That’s a total of, what, five offences?”. Miller clicked his tongue in disapproval. “It’s like you’re begging to spend the night in a cell.” His eyes flickered with malice ― and something else. Lust?

You really did not want to sleep in a cell tonight. You just wanted to get home, that was all. Also, most of your “offences” were bullshit. You were certain he couldn’t charge you with half of it, but his wickedness made you wary.

“I’m not drunk,” you said with a languid smile, touching his forearm, his arms crossed at his chest. “I stopped drinking two hours ago, officer.”

He raised an eyebrow ― Officer Miller didn’t believe a word you said.

“I can smell it.” You didn’t know if it was intentional or not, but his eyes drifted down to your pussy.

“I-It?”, you repeated, lips parted.

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you for a long minute. Your bravery had flaked a bit, although your cunt was begging for him to do something about it.

Joel was having a hard time curbing his horniness. You were so inviting, so insinuating, it was like you were asking to be fucked there and then. Oh, yes, you were, he knew you were. Showing off your boobs, wetting your lips, rubbing your knees together, playing with the edge of your tiny skirt. He had noticed every single one of your seductive attempts.

His cock was hard, so much so that it was stretching against the zipper of his work trousers. He kept his arms crossed, but what he really wanted to do was to readjust his erection so it wouldn’t be so damn uncomfortable.

“Turn around, hands on the car”, he ordered with a steely voice.

You first looked muddled, but finally obliged, giving him your back ― your palms resting on the roof of your car, your knees pressed together. He was sure your cunt was pulsing, and you were just trying to calm yourself down.

The thought made him mad with lechery. His dick was throbbing already.

“I’m going to pat you down, and then I’m gonna cuff you. Understood?”, he warned you, getting close to you.

You suddenly looked over your shoulder, your smile unwavering. You tilted your pelvis back, your ass against his bulge. You glanced down and then back up at him decisively.

“I’m sure we can work something out, officer?”, you whispered, your butt pressing on his swollen lump.

No, Joel was not imagining things. You were definitely asking to be fucked senseless in exchange for just a warning. He was still contemplating whether to entertain the idea or not. You were tempting, he would give you that. Your body was built to satisfy a man’s pleasure ― he could see that even when you were clothed. Barely clothed. Your top was too small, your boobs almost spilling over the neckline; your skirt was too short, your ass cheeks almost visible ― and he was sure you had some slutty heels on before you jumped into the car.

His cock jerked at the thought of rearranging your guts. Because that was what Joel would do to you if he had the chance. He cupped his groin for a second now that you were not looking, pressing it slightly to relieve some of the tension.

It didn’t help. If anything, it made it worse. He suppressed a frustrated groan.

Joel slotted his right knee in between your legs and forced you to separate them, his heavy boot grounding him. “I’ll think about it. In the meantime, you’re under arrest for at least reckless driving. Now stay still.” He was fully aware of how the top of his thigh brushed your crotch, but made a titanic effort to ignore it, for his own sanity.

Your panties were so fucking drenched, you feared your discharge might start dripping down your inner thighs. In fact, you let your head down to check discreetly and sighed with relief ― nothing to worry about, he wouldn’t notice how fucking horny you were.

Then he forcefully parted your legs, and you felt the fabric of his trousers sliding against your wet panties. The subtle touch made you jerked your hips up and then back down in surprise, your clothed cunt flushed against his thigh ― you had to swallow the sluttiest moan of your entire life, it felt damn good.

“I’m― I’m sorry”, you mumbled, lifting your body up to break the contact.

You didn’t need to look down to know that there would be a wet patch on his black trousers.

“You should be, making a mess of my uniform like that”, he grunted, exasperated.

Pressing your lips, you inspected every inch of the roof of your car while he patted you down. His big, calloused hands lingered on your underboob longer than necessary, almost cupping them. Both hands travelled down to your waist, his fingertips slightly under the waistband of your skirt.

Your heart was pounding, suddenly unsure of the whole thing. What were you really doing? Were you so desperate that you would let him use you in exchange for letting you go? Were you getting more than what you had bargained for?

It was like the excitement had burnt the last drop of alcohol in your blood and now you were fully aware of what you had unleashed.

But you had no more time to question your attitude, because Officer Miller completely slipped one of his hands under your underwear and buried all of his fingers in your soaked folds, except for his thumb which quickly found your clit. You shut your eyes and moaned audibly, your knees giving way.

His free hand wrapped around your waist to help you stand up, while his fingers traversed your whole slit, from your perineum to your clit, buttering your cunt with your own fluids.

“You are so fucking wet already, you should be ashamed of yourself”, he whispered in your ear while he pushed your ass back into his bulge.

Your treacherous body had awakened at his touch, your clit felt like it was on fire and your cunt was pulsating so hard it was uncomfortable. You rubbed his dick with your buttocks, unconsciously looking for some more friction. Miller groaned behind you, jerking you closer, his cock hard pressed against your ass.

Two of his fingers dipped further down and found your leaking hole, his thumb still rubbing your clit languidly. You whimpered and stirred your hips when one fingertip circled your entrance tentatively. Your back arched, pushing your butt further into his erection.

“Aren’t you a slut?”, he hissed as both fingers slid inside you, your brain not registering his words.

Your moist pussy clenched around his fingers, squeezing them hard. Every time your heart beat, so did your cunt. Officer Miller started fingering you, first slowly, and then picking up a relentless pace. Unable to control yourself, you mewled like a kitten in heat, your forehead now resting against the cold metal of your car and a thread of spit hanging from your mouth. Your needy cunt was so stimulated, so hot, so slippery, you couldn’t stop yourself from coming, even if you wanted to.

So you let go. You orgasmed so hard, you squirted with his fingers still dug in your creamy pussy. But you coming didn’t stop Officer Miller from driving his digits inside of you over and over again, forcing another climax on you a minute later. Your inner walls palpitated so violently, you felt the emptiness of your womb. Then you noticed it: the trickle of your own cum streaming down your inner thighs.

Officer Miller forced his fingers out of you, a pop sound making it obvious that your pussy was drown in your own fluids. The cop tapped your pussy a few times, almost gently, as the last wave washed off your nerve endings. You had never come so hard in your life before. Not even your boyfriend of five years had been able to turn you on this bad.

When your limbs regained some strength, Miller let go of your waist and stepped back. You slowly turned around to face him, but as your eyes drifted down his uniform, you realised that there was a new wet patch on his trousers, this time on his bulge. You had leaked so much, you had drenched his own pants.

You tried to find the words to explain to him that this was not what you had intended. Or was it?

“You’re still under arrest”, his voice was resolute, as if nothing of what just happened had affected him.

Before your neurons could make contact with each other, he handcuffed you, your laced hands resting in front of you, conveniently covering your spent pussy.

“But―”.

“No but’s, blackmailing a cop is an offence too. So that makes it six now, right?”, he cut you off.

You huffed, not believing what he was saying. You had not blackmailed him, not even close, he was just making it up now. Before you could argue, Officer Miller removed the keys from the ignition, shut the driver’s door and locked your car. He then grabbed you by your elbow, forcing you to walk in front of him towards his cruiser.

“Oh, c’mon, you’re now just bullying me”, you complained, your sweet façade quickly toppling.

Miller didn’t reply to your taunting. He simply opened the back door of his Crown Vic and threw you in. You almost tripped but manage to stop the falling. You sat down on the seat, your legs still out of the car, bare soles against the asphalt.

You didn’t know what possessed you, but your cuffed hands darted up and played with the buckle of his belt. Maybe if you gave him some head, he would relax and let you go. You were already in too deep anyway, your whipped pussy living proof of your desire.

“Officer, please, I can make it worth your while if you let me go”, you muttered, your fingers unclasping his belt.

Miller did not say one word, he just stared you down while you held his gaze. His waist slanted forward in an unspoken invitation, his eyes swirling with lust and wickedness.

You were not sure why you were doing this, or if you wanted to do this. But you were a horny mess, your pulsing cunt urging you to keep going, saturating your panties even more. Sure, you could drive home and ask your boyfriend to take care of you, but by the looks of it, you were going to spend the night in a station cell if you didn't do something about it. About him.

With firm hands, you undid the buckle and unzipped his trousers. His big, meaty cock sprung out with no warning, swaying in front of you. He was wearing no underwear. You marvelled at the sight ― his dick was the longest you had ever seen with a considerable girth, veiny and hairy at the base. It looked scary, but also fucking tempting.

“Don’t just stare, do something”, he commanded, grabbing your cuffed hands to bring them closer to his erection.

Ah, someone is impatient, you thought with a smirk before wrapping both of your hands around his circumference. With your mouth agape, close to his leaking tip, you rubbed the precum against his slit with your thumb and then started pumping him. His cock was palpitating, hard and velvety under your clasp ― and warm, so fucking warm you could feel his blood rushing underneath.

His jaw clenched, his eyes transfixed on your moving hands as you upped the rhythm. And then, without prior notice, he fisted your hair in a ponytail and drove his whole dick down your parted lips. You retched when his glans surpassed your uvula and coughed with his cock still in your mouth.

You were suffocating, but he didn’t give a fuck. In any case, he pushed his cock further down, but it had nowhere to go. His pubic hairs tingled the tip of your nose as you looked up, silently asking for mercy with teary eyes.

Miller glanced down at you and the motherfucker just smiled as you were still gagging.

“Look at you. What a whore, you’re taking it so well”, he mumbled under his breath before pushing your head back.

His cock slid out and you coughed to clear your throat of precum, swallowing it. His brutish attitude, although unwelcome, made your traitor of a cunt gush.

“I’m gonna fuck your throat to teach you a lesson. Open up for me, darlin’.”

You didn’t know why, but you just obeyed. Without breaking visual contact, the cop slotted his cock back in between your lips. With his hands on your temples, he tilted his hips forward until his tip stroked the end of your throat. Then he pulled out harshly and started jackhammering your mouth relentlessly, driving his cock in as far as he could every single time, his hairy balls hitting your chin. With Miller taking the lead, your cuffed hands were free. They were lazily resting on your lap until you dipped them down, your index caressing your deprived clit.

You just took it like a champ. After a while, your gag reflex relaxed and you dared to press your lips around his girth, so it would be more pleasurable for him. His slick cock was drumming in your mouth, filling it up entirely, choking you.

Miller pulled your head back sternly ― you were panting like a puppy by the time he was done with your throat. Your eyelashes were damp with unspent tears. You were sure that tomorrow it was going to hurt like if you had caught the worst cold of your life. Your mouth was filled with his sticky precum, a bridge of it connecting your mouth to his cock.

“You’ve not thrown up, well done”, he chuckled darkly. “Clean this mess for me.”

Again, as if you were not in control of yourself, you did as you were told. You licked his throbbing cock, swallowing all the fluids you had swept off his groin.

He lightly patted your cheek. “Good girl, now get up and take that finger out of your pussy.”

You had not realised you had been fingering yourself all along and your clit was begging for some relief. With a trembling sigh, you removed your hand from in between your legs and stood up.

Only then you caught on: he had not come yet. Fuck, you thought.

Did you want this? You were not sure. Letting him finger you and giving him head was one thing, but letting him fuck you was a completely different story. You were not a slut nor a cheater, but he made you feel like one. Your dribbling pussy made you feel like one.

Joel snatched his fingers around your elbow once again and made you walk to the front of his cruiser. He was in extreme need of relief ― his cock was pulsing so hard it was driving him mad with lust. He was gonna fuck that cunt of yours till you begged him to stop.

Unceremoniously, he splayed you down across the hood of his car ― your chest against the metal surface, your ass up in the air and your legs spread wide. If he could take a picture to jerk himself off to, he would.

He needed to see for himself, taste for himself. He was sure as hell that your pussy was drooling, beseeching to be filled to the brim. So he knelt behind you and parted your ass cheeks to have a better look. You whimpered, tiptoeing to give him better access to your soaked flaps.

“You’re such a slut. I could scrunch your panties to fill up an entire glass with your cum. Your thighs are all wet and tacky too”, he couldn’t stop himself from pointing it out, driving his hands up from the back of your knees, up your inner thighs, until they reached your crotch, framing your pussy.

He leaned forward and sipped from the fountain of your underwear, his fingers digging in the flesh of your ass, smelling your sweet sex. You wept, moving your hips against his mouth. Ah, yes, he knew you wanted him to fuck you hard. Very hard.

Joel rode up your tight skirt, exposing your ass to the elements. And then he pulled down your panties and put them in the pocket of his vest, as if they were a trophy. Because they were.

He now could have a better look at your creamy cunt, all smeared with your wanton fluids. Spreading your pussy open with his hands, he lapped you entirely a few times, even your butthole. Joel heard your moans loud and clear, knowing that you had never had your pussy eaten this good before. So he kept on going ― lapping, licking, sucking, biting until you squirted in his mouth, leaking like a broken tap and whining like a bitch in heat.

Joel drank it all and when you were finished, he stood up. He spanked your ass and with a swift movement, impaled you until his balls were flat against your thighs.

You screamed, literally screamed at the top of your lungs, when he stabbed you with his cock. You tried to hold onto something, but there was nothing you could grab. This was exactly what your cunt needed, being stuffed like a goddamn turkey in thanksgiving. Officer Miller drove his cock in and out of you lazily at first, and then he started fucking you stupid with such vigour that your body was being rocked back and forth, the handcuffs sliding against the hood, scratching the metal underneath.

You just moaned uncontrollably throughout the whole thing, unable to quieten yourself. Your cunt clutched around his throbbing dick, squeezing it hard, so hard you felt your muscles strain. Your clit spasmed severely, another fucking climax creeping up on you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK”, you implored to the sky, to him, to whoever was listening.

The cop then fisted your hair in a ponytail and pulled backwards, forcing you up off the hood, your back arching against his chest while he drilled you mercilessly. You were sure the squelching sounds your pussy was making could be heard from a mile away.

Then you finally came again, shrieking ― your treacherous pussy clamping down on his dick, leaking absolutely everywhere, trying to desperately milk him dry. Your eyes welled up, your black eyeliner running down your cheeks.

“You’re gonna take it inside and you’re not gonna complain”, he moaned in your ear and even in your blissful daze, you panicked.

“I’ve got a boyfriend,” you mentioned, but you knew it wasn’t going to stop him.

“Ah, do you? Doesn’t seem like it right now”, and then he huffed heavily, letting go, driving his cock as far inside of you as he physically could.

His warm cum filled you to the brim, painting your walls of sticky white. Irremediably, you sighed, heaving, and closed your eyes, letting yourself rejoice in how full you were of his spent, of his cock.

And as soon as it started, it ended. His dick slid out of your crying, sensitive pussy, leaving your damp skin exposed to the cold air.

You took a minute to compose yourself and pushing down your skirt. When you looked at him, he had already tucked away his cock back in his work trousers, his cop uniform slightly in disarray. Now there were more wet, sticky patches adorning his groin area, a mixture of your shared pleasure.

“Can I have my panties back, please?”, you requested, extending your hand to him, with a sunny, albeit quivering, smile.

“No, I’m keeping them.” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Can I at least have a tissue to clean myself up?”, your voice grew smaller as you lost confidence.

“No. I want you to go home with your pussy bursting with my cum, so that boyfriend of yours knows you’ve been fucked stupid by someone else”, he explained, full of himself.

At least you were going home. Or so you thought until you saw him walk to the back door of his Crown Vic, holding it open for you to jump in.

“This means nothing, you’re still spending the night in the cell”, he said, matter-of-factly.

You scoffed, angry. “Are you fucking serious?”, you asked, although what you really wanted to do was cry.

But you swallowed your tears, contrite ― your pride was bigger than your shame. And right now, you felt mortified.

What had you done?

Well, you had gambled, and you lost.

But, on the other hand, he had fucked you so good, so filthy, you were not sure any other cock would measure up to his.

[fireflywitch]

there’s this rush and this pressure, sometimes, for huge, mind-blowing numbers on ao3. thousands of kudos and comments and ppl obsessing over ratios, but like - there’s something so incredibly wonderful about, idk, even ten kudos. ten? you mean ten people, TEN total strangers, found something I wrote and clicked on it and read it and liked it? ten comments: you mean ten people took the time to tell me what they thought about my work, took the time and energy to write about MY WORK in their little comment bubble? ten people?? fifty?? one hundred???

but even just one - if one single person took the time out of their day to tell me how much they appreciate the little bit of my soul I just put out into the world - idk, it just means everything, doesn’t it?

[the-one-that-weeps]

Every time someone in this godforsaken fandom says "I think we've talked about misogyny enough" I want to hit them with a hammer. No we haven't.

We haven't even talked about the deep "Ruikasa&Akitoya Vs. literally everyone else" imbalance enough but imagine all of the people that get pressured into writing specifically for male/male ships simply because otherwise they won't get any appreciation.

Yes it's a cowardly thing but when you see Ruikasa having over 4000 fics and Ichisaki having like 5 in total obviously you're going to be discouraged. Obviously you'll be biased into creating Ruikasa instead of other ships.

And as someone who depends on appreciation in particular to do any work at all obviously that's going to have a lasting consequence. Some people spend 4 hours crying in front of a screen just for 3 people to like their work and leave, it's understandable if they lose passion for creating at all, you guys killed them.

It's even in how we handle m/m ships. You go into a fic that's tagged Rui&Tsukasa(platonic), someone in the comments always goes "okay but when do they kiss". You go to an action-packed longfic, someone always ends up going "okay but when do they kiss".

Fuck you guys. Actually. This is a silly piano tiles game about Hatsune Miku, we should be one of the MOST CREATIVE fandoms in history and somehow people still get mad over two boys not kissing immediately after getting introduced. It's so fucking difficult being a content creator in this fandom because you always end up having to take the same route. They meet they tease they kiss. End of story. "Oh you're doing something "lame" instead? -1 kudo. Bring me my yaoi next🖕"

[ad1thi]

stevetony recs you won't see on other rec lists

I've (surprisingly) been reading a lot of stevetony lately, and have come across a couple of gems that i feel are vastly under-appreciated, and wanted to show them some love. Obviously, the title is a misnomer because maybe you have seen these on other rec lists, but it's clickbait okay !! Don't forget to leave kudos and comments, if you like what you've read !!

No Trait As Much As This : @kandisheek-art

Tony gets hit with truth serum. It's a terrible time for everyone.

the year you were mine : @areiton

The night that changes his life forever, Steve is on a date with another man. Or: Steve is a pricy escort and Tony buys him for a year. Neither of them are doing this for love.

Meant : @ardett

What Steve meant when he asked out Tony was very different than what Tony meant when he said yes.

One Last Second Chance : @/Muccamukk

Tony Stark, second newest engineer at Rhodes Labs International, is just trying to rebuild from the ruins of his failed company, vanished fortune, and struggles with alcoholism. His goals include keeping his head down, avoiding stress and convincing Dr. Rhodes to let him build a really cool robot, so why does the universe keep throwing Avengers in his path?

Not just a river in Egypt (Tony is most certainly not in denial) : @lilgideon

"You are most definitely not in love with me, Cap, what you are experiencing is called cabin pressure," Tony explains, because he has a rational train of thought and he's met enough shrinks to have figured out their tactics by now. "And possibly, you know, sexual frustration, because it doesn't matter at all that you're, like, America's national icon, Fury still won't let you out. I know that, I see that, I acknowledge your pain, I feel with you, Cap, believe me, I do. And I get it, because I am a very good-looking fellow and we spend a lot of time together, stuck in this tower, and it's easy to--" "I am," Steve cuts off, equal parts amused and frustrated and concerned. "In love. With you. Tony, I'm in love with you."

then sirens, then bells (the broadcast remix) : @isozyme

“I tire of this,” Amora says, and with a casual gesture the entire team is pinned in place, frozen in mid-air. Steve has the unsettling, half-familiar feeling of someone rifling through his head like it’s a card catalogue. A mind-reader as well as a witch, then. A female voice whispers into his mind’s ear. It’s very tragic in here, dearheart, but I think your armored friend is, somehow, more psychically toxic than even you. What’s wrong with Tony? Steve thinks, but the presence is gone, leaving his memories of war stirred up like flying insects rising off a lake in at dawn.

The Enchantress opens Tony's mind to anyone and everyone near him. Steve knows he should let Tony keep his secrets, but he's not noble enough to stay away

The Twice-Told Tale : @arysteia

For someone he'd hero-worshipped for so long, Steve Rogers in the flesh is a pretty big disappointment. For one thing, he keeps looking at Tony as though he reminds him of someone else, and even if he never says anything, Tony's pretty sure it's his father. A lifetime of not measuring up to Howard's expectations is more than enough, thank you very much, and he's certainly not going to make an effort to live up to any of Steve's. Steve's pretty clearly failed to live up to his expectations, in any case, and that's not hypocritical at all.

i'm going too far (just to have you near) : @/zaynerpaner

“Rhodey, why did you leave me here?” Tony demands. The voice on the other line doesn't sound exactly like Rhodey’s – in fact, it sounds like he’d woken somebody up, which couldn’t be right since Rhodey had been here with him earlier. “Who is this?” the voice speaks again, and – it’s too deep. Rhodey’s voice isn’t that deep. “Rhodey? It’s Tony, m’phone’s dead and I need you to pick me up,” he tries again, frowning as he leans against the bar. “Uh, I think you have the wrong number.” OR the one where Tony drunk calls the wrong number looking for a ride home from the bar, and Steve comes to pick him up.

Living In The Future : @/Closer

Eighteen-year-old Tony Stark is the boy genius who woke Captain America, and now he's stuck with him. That's not a bad thing, but between Steve's wide-eyed wonder at the new world and Tony's little fanboy crush, the awkwardness just keeps happening.

if we ever meet again : @/anonymous

"It’s been two months," Steve says, voice low. "Rhodey- Colonel. It’s been two months.”

[curator-on-ao3]

fic author q&a

I was tagged by @deadheaddaisy for a fun and great fic author game. Thank you for tagging me, @deadheaddaisy! ❤️ As happy as I am to be tagged, the thing is, y’all, I’ve done that particular game a few times already and, even though it’s a great game, I was in the mood for something different. So, I’ve made new questions — and answered them — and I’ve tagged some folks in case they want to answer them, too.

1. Why do you write fanfic?

Life can be stressful, and writing fanfic can be like a little vacation. It’s not my life, anymore, it’s the characters’ lives.

2. Which of your posted stories do you think about the most, even though the story is “finished”?

I think about Malleable and Unmalleable Orders (Mirror Pikeone, E) probably because it’s so different from what I usually write. I also think about The Light Before Dawn (Pikeuna, M) because, even though it would have bogged down the story, I do think they eventually get married and the details of all that sometimes cycle through my brain.

3. If you could give yourself fic advice from when you first started writing fic, what would that advice be?

Enjoy this time of not really knowing fic conventions or expectations.

4. What’s your relationship to fic stats?

I try to avoid them. I love every kudos and comment and bookmark and subscription. But I don’t go looking for the numbers unless I have to.

5. Is there a pairing or scenario or friendship you miss writing? If so, why? If not, why not?

I miss writing Kathryn Janeway/Tom Paris. I had a lot of fun with that pairing for a while.

6. What motivates you to write?

If I don’t write the stories down, they get stuck in my brain. So I guess setting them free (in good ways) is my motivation.

7. Why do you write for the fandom(s) that you write for?

I really do believe in the ideals of Star Trek — IDIC and peaceful coexistence and all that stuff. Even though I often write for the spin-off series, not the original Star Trek, creating stories in that universe lets me be part of it, even in a small way. Also, as a bonus, I do think Trek readers are great about comments, kudos, etc., and that helps a lot.

8. If you’re stuck writing a WIP, what do you do?

I might work on something else or take a break. The problem will rotisserie in my head and probably work itself out if I don’t push it too hard.

9. What do you wish people knew about comments?

That any nice comment is welcome and appreciated and, if the person doesn’t want a reply to their comment, they can just say so and it’s easy enough for the author to honor their wishes.

10. Maybe there’s a question you wish had been on here. What’s that question (and answer)?

How about, “Do you read public AO3 bookmark notes on your stories?” Yes. Because of bookmarks like these on The Autobiography of Kirsten Clancy (Gen, T):

Tagging with no pressure: @deadheaddaisy, @iamstartraveller776, @fiadorable, @sun-lit-roses, @coffee-in-that-nebula, @grissomesque, @enterprise-come-in, @starrybouquet, @lorcaswhisky, @marymoss1971, @emilie786, @cnrothtrek, @elephant-in-the-pride-parade, @pc-corner, @divinemissem13, @meddow, @missparker, @jazzfic, @the-lady-general, and you. If my tag anxiety got the best of me and I didn’t put your name here, please consider yourself tagged. ❤️

[the-kipsabian]

wrestling fic writers!!

i have decided to be the change i wanna see, so lets do a nice little thing for each other, as a community full of incredible and talented writers. yes this is writer specific only, but thats cause thats where the main problem of people not interacting with creative works lies in this fandom as far as i can tell and have seen people talking about it especially in the last couple of months

if you read this, please add links to your written works. it can be just a single fic youre really proud of, your writing blog, your writing tag, your ao3 account, anything where your works can be found

and if you leave your link here, PLEASE check out someone else that has left their works, and interact with them. leave them a comment, even just a kudos, REBLOG their fic, etc. interacting is the keyword i want to emphasize here, along with building a sort of a masterpost of where to find people writing in this fandom

and if you are not a writer, youre still highly encouraged to interact with this post and share it and show love to the writers in this fandom, obviously!! i think that should go without saying, but adding it in anyways

a bit more about my vision and resources and such under the read more, but thats the gist of it. happy linking and please be kind and supportive to each other!! 💜

nobody is too big or too small to add their things on this list. if you write and post anything in this fandom whatsoever, be it fics or drabbles or headcanons, any companies or any kind of ships or reader inserts or any content whatsoever no matter how 'dead dove dont eat' or hell even if its just meta, we welcome all here and nobody can say that one thing is less valid than another. just please tag your content accordingly, especially if theres content warnings, and feel free to mention what you write, who you write, any info you wish to leave that would help people before they click on your links. but even so, that should not and hopefully will not deter people from interacting, no matter what it is. someones trash is another ones treasure, i promise you

and unless the amount gets really overwhelming, im personally going to be checking out everyone that leaves something here. unless it squeaks me out, but even then, i'll spread the word. and i just wish as many people as possible will do the same, and not just use this as a potential board to only get eyes on their stuff. ofc thats also the point, but you should give as much, if not more, than you get. we need to be kind and supportive of one another (besides, from personal experience, if you show love to someone else, they are more likely to do it back than without you taking the first step, so... pay it forward)

as for resources, heres a few links that should be helpful in leaving comments and feedback. of course everyone does their own thing and no comment is too big or too small to leave, but for those who need them. if you have anything you'd like added to this list, dont hesitate to get in touch or drop it in the post yourself!!

101 comment starters

ao3 floating comment box

kudos html

dont know how to comment? easy solutions

a quick hot guide to commenting (by yours truly)

an overall guide to appreciating fanfic writers

and just in general.. leave people comments. leave them asks about their projects. just go over and gush about their work. i know it sounds embarrassing but writers love nothing more than to hear that someone likes what they are doing. if you find a fic that hasnt been updated in forever, comment on it. it might just be the spark the author needs to continue. while kudos and likes are nice, and just as valuable to some, its definitely in the words the people leave for them that matter the most. im not saying this to put pressure on anyone, its just how it is, and i feel like unless people are writers themselves, and even then sometimes, thats just hard to grasp, especially if the writer is a smaller and less popular one who doesnt get a lot of traffic in the first place

i think thats all. just be nice and considered to everyone, reblog peoples works, this post with others add ons and so forth. and if i find anyone talking shit here or at other writers for something they share, you'll be blocked and im probably taking your kneecaps. be fucking nice. we are all struggling here and we need to stick together

happy sharing and commenting 💜💜

[thatdesklamp]

Hello, and (for the moment) ‘see you in a while’ from old desklamp.

(Quick edit now I’ve written this all out: Oh, lordie—I’ve just realised that this sounds like I’m announcing I’m giving up on IW. I’m not! I promise. This is all about how I’m trying to facilitate my writing process. IW is not being dropped: let’s get that out of the way first, lmao.)

Hello all! I’ve been doing some self-reflecting, and I’ve come up with this: I’ve struggled with writing ‘Intrinsic Warmth’ for a long time now.

Alll too often I’ve been sat with my laptop for hours having only managed to squeeze out one or two paragraphs that I don’t even like all that much anyway. I haven’t felt satisfied by writing for a long time, and so I just haven’t written anything. It’s been months since I’ve written something worth reading for IW, and I’ve been having a think as to why.

I think it comes down to two things; I’ve been feeling a lot of pressure in writing IW, and I’ve become too fixated on the instant gratification of feedback from you guys.

First: the pressure. IW has gotten bigger than I ever considered it would be, especially recently (as in, in the jjk season 2 era). The support and feedback continues to blow me away, and I’m staggered every time I stop to actually consider the magnitude of the response that IW has gotten. It’s genuinely crazy.

All that is to say: I wasn’t prepared for this!! I don’t mean that in any resentful way at all, I want to be clear. Moreso that it’s easy to feel a bit overwhelmed by it all. I know that, relative to other huge ao3 fics, IW isn’t even that huge. But I also recognise that in the ‘Gojo x reader scene’, it’s pretty up there, even if we’re just looking through a ‘filter by most kudos’-ed fic angle. There’s a been big response, and I’m just one person, lmao. But come on, I absolutely love it, and I’m so grateful that people have enjoyed the stuff I’m writing—but as more and more people have been picking it up I’ve felt a definite pressure put upon me. It’s a pressure to write well, and to write more, and to write good things more often. This isn’t to do with anything anyone’s said, don’t worry, but more as an expected consequence of IW picking up traction.

I feel more and more like a ‘popular author’, and feel like I’m doing you guys a disservice with my infrequent updates. I truly do appreciate the reassurance of ‘you can update whenever you want!’, genuinely, but I’m also an ao3 reader myself! I empathise with and understand the frustration that must be felt when I go months between updates. Writing has never come at the expense of my personal, academic or social life (hence why I’ve never tried to tie myself down with an update schedule: I’d never be able to keep to it), and I’d never want it to. I want to keep writing as it’s always been: one of my hobbies. But as IW increases in popularity, it feels like it almost *should* take priority over other things, and this has left me feeling pretty overwhelmed.

My second reason: I’ve also become a tad too dependent on feedback. When IW was in its fledgling stages, I didn’t show it to anyone at all, and was ‘writing for myself’ in the barest sense of the phrase. Only one of my irl friends has read any of it, and when I was first uploading it, when I had about 5ish comments per chapter, any feedback I was getting would always be secondary to my own. I was writing for myself, because I enjoyed writing and I enjoyed what I was writing about, and it just so happened that there were a few people who felt the same as me.

It’s very different now! And I much prefer it now—it’s every writer’s dream to have had such an overwhelmingly positive response to their writing. And now it gets to the point where I can check my emails, or look at my tumblr notifications, and there’ll always be new for me. And whilst I absolutely love this, it’s pretty addictive, checking again and again, seeing what people are saying. This positive response from others is more instantly gratifying than the slow, steady, personal enjoyment I get from writing.

It sounds silly, I know, but I’ve been writing this hunger games fic (completely spontaneous, likely never to be published), and no-one’s read it but me, and it’s reminded me how much I really do like writing. I’ve loved the process of writing it, because the only person whose opinion I’m listening to is my own.

I don’t want to discourage people from reaching out to me, leaving comments, even talking about IW, anything like that. That’s not what I mean. But this is me recognising that I should probably take a step back from the non-writing side of writing: being active on tumblr, constantly checking asks, making posts, etc. Know that whilst I may not immediately respond to you, once I get back in the swing of things over here, I will do. I just need to sort out my personal priorities a bit, I think.

Saying this, I know I haven’t been all that active recently (this has honestly been intentional: I’ve been trying to wean myself off it, lmao) but for the immediate future, I’m making that more definite: I’m going to try to revert my focus to writing. I’m going to stay off tumblr for a bit, until I’ve gotten back into the swing of writing and don’t find myself so focused on the feedback side of it all. Hopefully this’ll spark up some more genuine passion in me! Please know that if you’ve written an ao3 comment, I have read it. I don’t know when I will respond to them, but I definitely will, I just want to keep my focus on the personal side of writing for the moment.

Thank you to everyone! Again, this is just me going off the grid for a while: not a big fuckoff goodbye or anything. If this is unreasonably theatrical, blame my drama GCSE. Going off to do some writing now. See you guys!

[tippenfunkaport]

SPOP Saturday

We were talking in the Flex server about a way to showcase fics we love to get them more attention and came up with a little idea to try for the summer (and then beyond, if there's interest): 

SPOP Saturday

Here's how it works:

Every Saturday, we recommend fanfics using the hashtags #SPOP Saturday and #fic rec as well as any other relevant fandom tags so people can find it. Just post the link to the fanfic, a word or two about why you like it / why people might want to check it out, that's it. (Tagging the fic author is optional but nice to do if you can because everyone likes to see their work being appreciated!)

To give this a little structure, I'll be sharing optional themes for each Saturday for the types of fanfics to recommend. The purpose of this is just to give some variety in what everyone's recommending so it's not just the same few fics over and over again.

While you can just add your fic recs as a reply or reblog my post if you wish, you may get more eyes on you post if you make your own (esp if you're rec-ing non-canon ships as my follower base is mostly canon ship focused).

I specified in most cases no more than three mostly because I don't want this to be a high pressure thing where you try to list every single fav and friends get offended if they don't make the list. Just whatever ones you're most jazzed to mention for this week's prompt off the top of your head!

Time is a construct! Don't stress too much about getting it out on time or if you want to do a previous theme on another week, the point is just to recommend FanWorks and share the love!

Check out the rec-ed fics, leave kudos and comments, keep your fandom writers well fed with positive attention so they keep the good stuff coming! 

(Note: I will build in one week for people to self-promote but the spirit of this event is to show other authors some love, not push your own fics.)

[allastoredeer]

I read the new chapter of Holy Suffering as soon as it came out and I love the way u write Lucifer. For the past few days I have been reading Radio apple fanfic and I hate how lucifer is portrayed in most of them, shy , innocent with Alastor after the fight, and kinda out of character for the both of them, cause they suddenly like each other, and I don’t see it in them. They like to piss each other off, that’s the whole ship point.

Ur Lucifer is so sassy, Hits all the Good Characterization checks in my brain, he’s such a delight to read, same for Alastor. U had me going speechless most of the time Alastor spoke, cause I honestly didn’t know what he was gonna say next. Writing Alastor it’s probably hard, cause he is misterious and always hides his emotions but You totally nailed it. Right now he is probably angry at Lucifer cause he ratted him out lol

Al be like the audacity of this man after he forced him to do this.🙄

Anywhizzle I just wanted to ask, for the overload meeting, is Charlie gonna send Lucifer with Alastor? Maybe as a snake or something, to make sure is he okay. Cause she really sounded mortified that she didn’t notice that Alastor was suffering and man Al definitely didn’t like that, but it’s not like he can say no to Charlie so

A nd is there like a schedule for next updates? I am really invested in this story and I honestly can’t wait to read more of it.

Thank you ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ Hahah Lucifer's got bite to him, for sure. He doesn't come off as the shy type to me. Awkward as hell, certainly. In the throes of depression, absolutely. And he cares about Charlie's opinion of him to a fault. But when it comes to someone throwing their weight around--or, more accurately, getting involved with Charlie (cough Alastor helping Charlie with the hotel, couch Adam fighting/hurting Charlie cough) he isn't afraid of getting his hands dirty.

Alastor is hard to write ಥ_ಥ I love him so much, but sometimes, I want to cut open his head and properly study his brain because f;knslnjsbj out of all the characters, he's the hardest for me to pin down, in terms of both dialogue and actions. He has such a way of talking, and such a distinct voice (his radio filter) that it's simultaneously easy to imagine his voice, but hard to put it to dialogue. So, I really appreciate hearing that I nailed it (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`) Seriously, it's so appreciated to hear.

Nah, Alastor is going to be going to that one alone :3 It's going to be set in his POV, so we'll get some insight in his thoughts on the whole thing, and how he's handling his current affliction. I'm both excited to and nervous to get into it, because writing him in someone else's POV is hard, so writing him in his OWN POV is a little intimidating, but I'm mostly excited. I have a lot of thoughts for this series, and it's gonna be fun to explore them.

As for a schedule, I used to try to keep myself to one, and I've found that I have both a love/hate relationship with it. One the one hand, keeping a writing schedule is nice because it gives me a clear view of what I want to work on and an goal date to get it done, which is very nice for my ADHD brain.

BUT, on the other hand, when I start putting that pressure on myself to get it down, and I fail to actually reach that goal, it hits me pretty hard and it can take away my motivation and joy in writing the fic. It starts to feel more like a chore than a fun hobby I can do in my downtime.

Thankfully, I am DEEP in Hazbin Hotel hyperfixation, and the amazing feedback I've gotten from my fic's is certainly fueling my motivation. So thanks to everyone leaving kudos and comments! It's seriously so helpful and I cherish ever single one of them.

If I had to give an estimate for when the next installment of the series will drop, I'd say either at the end of this week, or the beginning/middle of next week. I have an unrelated AppleRadio one-shot I want to bust out before I work on the next installment, and that one I'm going to try and post by Thursday or Friday.

To quote out favorite Radio Demon,

~Stay Tuned

[highladyjane]

Fave fan fiction atm? ✍️

Gawsh, at the moment?!

When it comes to fan-fics, I'm a multi-chapter, canon-universe kinda gal, and I usually don't start reading until the fic's got a couple of chapters going and updating regularly since I like reading stuff in one go (because so many I'd started on ended up unfinished and that kinda hurt since I get invested 😩), but I'm following quite a bunch at the moment 😅

My favourite fan-fiction to read will always be Elriel (they've kept me thirsty so they're actually the ones that got me started on fanfics), but I also read some Dramione, Elorcan, & random LOTR every now and then.

I'm sure you're already following/read the most easy to find, frequently mentioned, and already established ones, so I'll skip mentioning those.

If I'm going to recommend any of those I'm reading "at the moment" it would be the following that deserve so many more kudos and comments and hits and over-all LOVE and appreciation, imo:

@merakimoonglade's Chiaroscuro series! (Elriel)

I read it all in one go some weekends ago and fell in love with the author's unique, emotive, and beautifully descriptive style of writing. It's also filled with crumbs that are a delight to find here and there throughout. My heart hurt after finishing it, so I'll warn you for that, but that's because there were such lovely and light, but also angst-filled moments. She also has a multi-chapter fic on the works called Shadowlight which is a bit of a continuation to the series, and that's why it's a must include in this "at the moment" list. 😊

@violetasteracademic's Golden Doe in a Valley of Shadows (Elriel)

As I've mentioned, I don't usually start "In Progress" fics until they're well a couple of chapters in, but violetasteracademic is so intelligent and lovely - just like her writing! My favourite kind of people are those who reply to all the comments/messages even though they don't have to, so I automatically loved her! Therefore, my curiosity got the better of me, so I read 1 chapter, obviously got hooked immediately, and she's kept us fed and spoiled with nearly daily updates since then like the absolute ✨Mother✨ she is... So this is already a must-read!

@tealeaves-and-rosepetals's Resilience and Roses (Elriel)

Probably one of my all-time favourite fics because it's probably one of the most believably canon-like, beautifully well-written (I wish SJM wrote like this tbh), mind-blowing and heart-wrenching fics I've ever read, so it's got to be included - and I just cannot fathom why it doesn't have more LOVE. I'm including this in this "at the moment" list because I recently re-read it, and because she does have an on-going multi-chapter fic "Shining Through That Moonless Night", which is a continuation of Resilience; and which I'm honestly still holding out on for the same reasons I mentioned above. But I've read 1 chapter and already know I'm going to love it and probably bawl my eyes out for loving it, so I'm trying to wait patiently (while mentally preparing myself) for a couple of chapters more before I devour it...

As for one-shots, the most recent one I read (last night) was @viridianevergarden's The Comforts of the Night (Elriel)

I think they mentioned it's their first writing in a while, but I thought it was beautifully written and felt very Sleeping Beauty-ish and Az-angsty, so I'm hoping there's a continuation or that we get to see more of their writing in the future!

Now, I don't want any pressure at all to the above-mentioned on their writing journeys, but I really hope for more people to find them and GO and send them some very well-deserved love, so we see more of their writing and thank them for blessing us with their beautiful talent(s), humility, and overall loveliness! ✨️

Thank you for the Ask, btw. I tried not to go overboard with my answer, but here we are 😅😆

[steddie-island]

HAPPY SUB EDDIE WEEK!!! Rating: E | WC: 2,129 | Tags: Ghostface roleplay, fake home invasion, predator/prey, simulated knife play, Dom Steve Harrington, Sub Eddie Munson, Dacryphilia, hair pulling, manhandling Full list of tags on ao3. As always, thanks for reading, and reblogs, comments, and kudos are very appreciated! Divider credit to @saradika!

It’s dark. The power’s out, won’t come back on. Eddie’s tried the light switches in every room. No other houses on the street are out, it’s just this one. Goddamn breaker , he finds himself thinking. There’s a flashlight in the kitchen drawer that nearly blinds him as he turns it on and tests the strength of the beam. 

The basement steps creak beneath his feet. The beam of light lands on shoes, totes holding camping gear, decorations, the cords he swears they can’t get rid of because as soon as they do they’ll need them. 

There’s a sound off to the right. Eddie jumps, and the corner is illuminated by bright white. Nothing. There’s nothing there but more storage containers that hold comic books, his vinyls. 

He turns, makes the short walk to the breaker box. 

Another noise, this one behind him, has him turning. 

A white mask, with black bloodhound eyes and a screaming mouth. There’s a hood, a cape. Big black shoes that thud as they cross the floor. A gloved hand comes out, the light reflects off of a long blade–

Eddie screams, nearly trips up the stairs. He can hear those feet thundering along behind him. A hand finds his ankle, he kicks out and then he’s running again. He tries to slam the basement door but it connects with a hand instead. He cries out again, runs for the staircase to the second floor, has a small heart attack as he slides with the rug across the hardwood. 

A yelp as he skitters towards the stairs again, running full-out now. He can still hear those heavy shoes behind him. Every misstep has the intruder getting that much closer. He can practically feel the blade against his skin. He slides into the bedroom, turns to close the door but then there are hands on him, grabbing him. He’s pinned against the wall. His hands are above his head, his legs are kicked wide. And the silver object he’d seen back in the basement is pressed to his cheek. 

“Look at you. Jesus, I knew you wanted this, but I didn’t realize how much it would work for you.” The blade is dull, not even butterknife sharp at best, but just the cool metal against his cheek has Eddie whimpering. “Bet you’re so wet for me, aren’t you?” Steve’s teeth scrape over his neck and Eddie’s hips jolt forward. He’s already pressed to the wall, so there’s nowhere for them to go and just adds pressure. “Bet you could come just from this.” Eddie loves Steve’s voice normally, but here? Growling in his ear as he rocks towards Eddie’s body like he can fuck him through both of their clothes? He doesn’t think Steve is wrong. 

“Baby, please–” “Listen to you.” The edge of the blade is against his throat and can only whine. “So fucking desperate, so needy…” “Yeah– fuck, please–” Eddie gets the flat of the knife tapped twice against his cheek. 

“You’re not in control here, Eddie. Remember? I am.” Eddie is moved away from the wall and practically tossed onto the bed so his ass bounces twice on the mattress. The mask is pulled back down but Steve loses the cape, revealing tight black jeans that hug his ass and a black t-shirt that has to be fucking painted on. Eddie’s going to come in his pants like he’s seventeen and not a full grown adult. Steve crosses the room. Those gloved hands grab Eddie’s thighs, knocking him onto his back, and pull his ass to the edge of the bed. “You’re fucking panting for it. God, Eddie, look at you.” Steve unbuttons his pants, tugs both pants and underwear down just enough to free his cock. The blade drags against the underside and Eddie whimpers again. Steve is trying to kill him– and not in the way they were playing. Steve is actually going to kill him. He’s so fucking turned on he wants to cry and Steve’s barely touched him so far. 

“You’re dripping.” There’s a puddle of precome on his belly, still connected to his cock by a sticky thin string. “Jesus, Ed. I really think you could come like this.” “Steeeeeve. ” Eddie whines, his cock twitches beneath the touch. “Fuck, please .” Steve taps the blade against the head of his cock and Eddie gasps at the hurt. “Is that too much? Thought this was what you wanted from me.” 

“Please. Please baby please–” “Safe word.” Steve’s fingers wrap around his cock. “What is it?” “P– Poughkeepsie–” Eddie cries out as Steve’s thumb presses against his slit. He’s so fucking sensitive it hurts. “Stevie, baby, fuck –” Steve gives one more stroke from root to tip, and then he’s flipping Eddie over onto his stomach. His hand comes down, connects with Eddie’s asscheek hard enough to leave a bright red handprint behind. Eddie’s eyes are closed and he’s practically humping the bed. “Stop it,” Steve says with another smack. His other hand slides between Eddie’s cheeks to tug at the plug they’d worked into his body earlier. It’s not very big, simple silver with a black jewel. He tugs at it, listens to the way Eddie’s breath whimpers and stutters out of his chest as his rim is stretched around the widest part again, again, fucking again . 

“Baby, baby, god please –” Eddie’s sobbing with need now. Every touch, smack, all the pleasure and pain, they just add and build and none of it is what he really needs. “Do fucking anything –” The plug is gone, and then Steve is there. He’s thick and hot and he drives in with a thrust so sharp Eddie almost screams with it. There’s an edge of pain, but it’s mostly pleasure, pleasure so fucking intense that he snaps like a rubberband. 

Just one fucking thrust and he’s coming so hard he sees stars. 

“Jesus –” Steve drops his forehead to Eddie’s back, lets Eddie twitch and thrum beneath him, the spasms of his body pulling Steve’s cock deeper, holding him there while he sobs through it. Steve knows Eddie is oversensitive, but their scene isn’t over. He brushes the hair off of Eddie’s neck, lifts the mask up to kiss the back of his neck. “Safeword, pretty boy?” “Poughkeepsie.” Eddie slurs a little as he says it. His face is wet, his eyes closed against the blankets. The gloves are removed, and then Steve’s hands are running up Eddie’s arms, pushing them above his head. He pins Eddie’s wrists there with one hand, the other one coming down to his hip. The first roll of Steve’s hips has Eddie groaning lowly. Steve relishes in the clench of Eddie’s body as he slides out like it wants to keep him there forever. “Fucking beautiful,” he growls. His hips snap in a little quicker at the same time that he sinks his teeth into Eddie’s shoulder, earning a thready moan. He sucks hard enough, uses just enough teeth to leave an impressive bruise behind, one that he knows will get darker and more tender. 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Steve’s hand moves from Eddie’s hip to his hair. He gathers it into his fist, tugs Eddie’s head to the side. “To be marked? Claimed? For everyone to know whose boy you are?”

The only response Eddie can manage is a whine, and to use the tips of his toes to fuck himself back onto Steve’s cock. 

“You’re a wreck.” Steve drags his teeth down below Eddie’s ear as he kept up the slow but steady pace with his hips. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you work this hard for it before.” He grips  Eddie’s hair that much more firmly, gives a tug that he knows has Eddie’s dick pulsing with need already again. “Tell me what you want.” Eddie tries to use his toes to guide himself again, but Steve stops him with another pull to his hair. “I said tell me, not show me. Use your words.” It takes a few moments for Eddie’s brain to reconnect with his mouth. He licks his lips, tries to start once and doesn’t quite get there. It’s hard to formulate thoughts when the blood has pooled in the wrong brain. “Want you to f-fuck me,” he gets out. “To mark me. Show everyone I’m… I’m yours.” Steve eases his hold in Eddie’s curls, but just barely. His hips pick up speed, fuck into Eddie’s body with long, deep thrusts. “Like this?”

“Harder,” Eddie urges. 

Steve bites down on the juncture of shoulder and neck as his movements shift. They’re long, smooth strokes that punch the breath out of Eddie’s lungs every time he bottoms out. “Whose are you?” Not a growl this time, but a purr. 

“Yours,” Eddie says without hesitation. “‘M all yours. I’m your good boy–” “My good boy, huh?” Steve drags his teeth along Eddie’s earlobe. “Do good boys beg to be fucked like this, Eddie? Do good boys beg to be pinned down and used, the way you want to be?” His hips snap harder and Eddie is ready to sob with it again. “Yours does,” Eddie answers. 

Steve can’t help but laugh. “Keep your arms out in front of yourself. Don’t fucking pull them back, you got it?” Eddie nods, takes a deep breath as the warmth of Steve’s hand disappears. Then it’s on his hips, and Steve’s hand is pulling at his hair so his head lifts and his neck iss on display, and “ Oh god– ”

Steve’s movements are hard now, short and sharp and deep. Eddie can’t help the way he cries out, can’t help the tears dripping down his cheeks and further soiling the sheets beneath his head. His hands catch against the sheets desperately as Steve keeps pounding into him but he doesn’t even think about bringing his arms down to get more leverage. He was told not to. 

“Steve– Steve, I–” Eddie doesn’t know what he’s asking for. Steve, thankfully, does. He grips Eddie’s hair tighter, lets his hand slide to the raised welts he’d left earlier. Blunt nails dig in against the marks. He drives in at just the right angle, tugs Eddie’s hair just sharply enough to tilt the sensation over into pain. 

And then Eddie’s coming again. Spots fill his vision, he screams against the sheets. Just as he feels Steve emptying into his body, the world goes dark. 

Eddie comes to when a cool cloth touches his face. Every atom of his being aches in the most delicious way. Steve is there, looking a little concerned as he wipes tears and snot off of Eddie’s skin. 

“Hey, beautiful.” Steve kisses a trail from his forehead down to his lips. “How was that? Was that what you wanted?” Eddie nods and reaches out to wrap his fingers around Steve’s wrist, keeping the hand there against his cheek. “‘S good for you?” he asks. 

“Yeah! Yeah, it was… fucking awesome .” Steve smiles and presses another kiss to Eddie’s cooling skin. “It was a lot, though.” “Yeah. It was.” Eddie doesn’t sound upset about that as he tugs Steve closer, until Steve’s laying half on top of him and he can burrow into his chest. “Wanted it.” “I know you did.” Steve combs his hair out of his face, untangles his curls before massaging lightly at his scalp. He knows Eddie’s going to have a tender head, maybe for the next couple of days, and he wants to make sure it’s at least bearable. “You did so fucking good, Eddie. Fuck, I’ve never seen you let go like that.” Eddie preens beneath Steve’s touch, beneath his words. It’s what he always (well, almost always) wants, to be good for Steve. His Steve. 

When his legs no longer feel like jelly Steve stands him up, helps strip him down the rest of the way before half carrying him to the bathroom. They soak in the tub together. Steve kisses the bruises he’d left behind as he shampoos Eddie’s hair. They get out and still Steve is right there, wrapping him in their fluffiest towel. By the time Steve’s finished with his hair and getting him into pajamas, Eddie’s practically dead and swaying on his feet. “Drink for me, okay?” Steve kisses his cheek, helps him down half a bottle of water. The sheets get changed while Eddie sits in the corner and nibbles on his favorite chocolate. They finish it in bed, Eddie drains the rest of the water. “I love you,” Steve says for the millionth time as he tucks Eddie’s head into his chest. “You’re fucking incredible.” 

Eddie smiles, murmurs a sleepy, “Love you, too.” 

He’s asleep before Steve even gets the blankets tucked around him, safe and sound in his partner’s arms.

[ceilidho]

price girl anon here *please don't feel pressured to reply to asks you give us so much*

BUT JUST YOUR BRAIN

he's so proud of you for sticking your ground about the divorce, his brave strong girl

(did a little kudos spree on your earlier works cause you're so talented and so appreciated)

thank you!!!! also i saw your comment on saltwater and i appreciate it so much. esp since 'saltwater' is still to date my fave thing i've ever written ;~~; i so sincerely appreciate your words

haha i still do love that the divorce is really just this extended foreplay. it is also grounded in pain though. the constant moving around, the nights spent worrying again and again if john will come home, worrying over how to explain it to the boys - how you'll cope if something happens. they're so young. sleepless nights spent wondering if you'd gotten it all wrong, if you listened to your heart but your heart was actually wrong. if it would've been better to play it safe, to marry the accountant that asked for your number at the same bar where you met john.

and then he'll walk through the front door and it all comes rushing back. the shape of him awakens something vital in you; he feels like your destiny in a way that is both a reward and a curse. he's the only man you could ever want, even when it comes with pain.