#see fanfiction

[sagegarnish]

🦀 Kudos Crab 🦀

If you are scrolling and see Kudos Crab, your fics will be blessed!

You will get good comments and kudos!

You will beat your writers block!

GO AND WRITE!

[dyke-ass-fujoshi]

How I found out about trump getting shot

[charbroiledchicken]

"you're the writer, you control how the story goes" no not really. i wrote the first sentence and then my characters said "WE WILL TAKE IT FROM HERE" and promptly swerved into an electrical fence.

[bardofavon]

not to be controversial bc I know this is like…not in line with shifting opinions on fanfic comment culture but if there’s a glaring typo in my work I will NOT be offended by pointing it out. if ao3 fucks up the formatting…I will also not be offended by having this pointed out…

‘looking forward to the next update’ and ‘I hope you update soon!’ are different vibes than a demand, and should be read in good faith because a reader is finding their way to tell you how much they love it. I will not be mad at this.

‘I don’t usually like this ship but this fic made me feel something’ is also incredibly high praise. I’m not going to get mad at this.

even ‘I love this fic but I’m curious about why you made [x] choice’ is just another way a reader is engaging in and putting thought into your work.

I just feel like a lot of authors take any comment that’s not perfectly articulated glowing praise in the exact manner they’re hoping to receive it in bad faith.

fic engagement has been dropping across the board over the last several years, and yes it’s frustrating but it isn’t as though I can’t see how it happens. comment anxiety can be a real thing. the last thing anyone wants to do is offend an author they love, and that means sometimes people default to silence.

idk where I’m going with this I guess aside from saying unless a comment is outright attacking me I’m never going to get mad at it, and I think a lot of authors should feel the same way. ESPECIALLY TYPOS PLZ GOD POINT OUT MY TYPOS.

[emberfaye]

You know what?

I love you, fics that take months to update. I click on the newest chapter and have no memory of this place and get to go back some chapters and rediscover how much i love everything about this story.

I love you, fics that take years to update. I think of you fondly, and know your names, go search for you and see an update from this year and scream, diving in uncaring of any missed details (i will finish the update and read you in reverse because this is a treat you have bestowed)

I love you, fics that probably will never update again. Thank you for being a roman empire for my mind, thank you for teaching me about the ephemeral fandom experience, for inspiring a thousand million what if-s, for being a comfort read and a nostalgia read and a reread.

I love you fic writers, who jump into projects and stories with enthusiasm. I love you when you succeed in pumping out those chapters and that love doesn't go away when you stop.

I love you fic writers who post and then get in your own head and never feel confident enough to update, whether it's at all or whether it's just that one story.

I love you fic writers, who have a fandom or media hurt you to the point of abandoning or having a hard time with their WIPs.

I love you fic writers, who lose interest or have life changes or illness or bad memory. Thank you for being part of the fandom, a core part of the fandom. Thank you for the time spent in the fandom.

I love you, fic writers who try out something new and then stop. You're so valid.

I love you, WIP fics that may or may not ever get finished. Thank you for brightening my day in the way only you could have.

[crownanother]

Apparently, back in the day, there was a really notorious tie in novel for Star Trek that had a lot of slash elements called Killing Time

The slash elements were requested to be removed by Paramount, and they were, BUT due to a mistake, the original was sent to print without the edits

When it was caught, they’d printed 250k of this “first edition” which subsequently became collectors items for Kirk/Spock fans, since later editions DID include the edits censoring the slash

NOW, I bring this up because my friend who’s into the original Star Trek found and was reading the first edition at the desk at the library we work at, cause we’re slow on weekends and we’re the only ones here. She laughs at it, so I ask and she tells me about the general backstory of the book, and that she laughed because (among other things) Kirk, who doesn’t get mad in the og series really, was being described as hot headed and apparently just getting into fights left and right

So I’m looking over her shoulder at the scene, commenting on the character changes that resemble modern fic-degradation of characterization for the sake of a shipping dynamic, when I realize something

Now, my only interaction with the Star Trek series directly was the 2009 reboot, and my friends hasn’t seen those and is only interested in the originals. As I’m looking at this scene, and my friend is pointing out the character changes to Kirk, I realize that this is the fucking premise of the reboot, down to the fucking alternative timeline shenanigans, the rank swap, and Kirk being a hotheaded fuck up

The 2009 film was literally based on this slash fiction misprint they tried to bury!

Im reeling.

I can’t be the only one who made this connection.

So I google to see if anyone else has, and oh yes, good, there was someone

The fucking author of Killing Time

…I feel like I’ve uncovered a conspiracy. I’ve still got 3 hours left in my shift and I can’t focus. The world must know.

[pixiemage]

Please, for the love of god, please don’t be this person. No matter how long it’s been since an update, no matter how many unfinished stories are sitting on their account, no matter what - do not be this person.

Not only is it insanely rude, but you also do more damage than you think be being such a self-entitled ass about something someone created for free and for fun. “This author” can see what you say.

RIP decency indeed.

[firemenenthusiast]

holy shit imagine teaching kofun how to eat a pussy GOD HE'D BE SO GOOD AT IT

GUESS WHAT

—“combat”

inexperienced! kofun x fem!reader

summary: trying to walk on such predatory post apocalyptic world with different abilities than others reaps the enjoyment in living, so you try to make the best out of it

warnings: 18+, smut haha 😔, unprotected p in v (please wrap it), cunnilingus, creampie, overstimulation, inexperienced!kofun, cringiness, reference to early episodes

a/n: guys i let delusions take over the best of me so this is extra delusional. i tried to make the plot as accurate as i could also thank you anon for the request !

between being born into and growing up in a family of warriors, your childhood was nothing short of epic. as early as you’ve gotten the ability to walk on this earth your parents made sure to let you explore as much as there is to explore, handing you miniature models of weapons before you could even form coherent sentences so that you’ll be able to fit into the bloodline. you picked your first weapon at 2, though non-fighters of the village thought it was too early, and far too dangerous.

it’s a family tradition, and it’s so that you’ll be able to grow into it. your family believes that weapons and fighters are one, and you’ve grown to embrace the world you grew up in, making sure you live up to the cavernous expectations, no matter how different you actually are apart from everyone. no one knows, except your parents. you’ve been living with a mouth half shut, a heart less full because of the secret that you’ve kept all your lives.

it wasn’t until the twins were born, not long after you were that your parents find out that you’re not the only one. they weren’t sure of how it was possible, no one in your family were given the gift of sight either. but they believe your near relatives somewhere, are also able to see. the twins and you didn’t quite understand that the three of you carry a powerful ability when you were little, it was just the way you were born. sometimes you feel like it’s a curse, with how you have to live a life half a lie, and how you have to be hidden like you’ve killed a bunch and kept the blade.

it’s still fresh in your memory, the moment baba voss came joining you on your daily training in the woods, bringing together haniwa and kofun. you were 5, and so were they. you’re older just by a couple months. it amazed you just how clever they are, and how haniwa is basically another copy of you, with how invested she is in the art of combat. kofun on the other hand, he was quiet. every time baba would bring them along he’d refuse to follow and learn. instead, you’d catch him staring at you before he’d immediately chase away his gaze. one wouldn’t exactly say kofun is shy but he’s definitely quiet most of the times, in contrary to his sister.

the three of you had grown up together, but you evidently spend more time with haniwa, given your shared interests. she’s observant, and incredibly brave, she’s grown to be an amazing fighter, sometimes even surpassing you who grew up with fighters. you learn a lot from her, especially about the real world. you learn a lot from kofun too, particularly on how to read people, especially him who acts less significant than anyone you’ve ever met. sometimes he makes you wonder if he dislikes your presence with how timid he is around you compared to everyone else. he’d voice out his stand and disagree with haniwa any time but will fall quiet the moment you side with her.

part of the village might have found out about the twins’ ability by now but your parents had asked baba voss and paris to refrain from mentioning you. they respect their requests, so it’s just a few of you who knows, less people to worry about snitching when the witch hunter comes for a scavenge. it’s become worse now that the twins are all grown up, and the elderly couldn’t do much anymore in making sure they’re not exposed to threat.

especially with haniwa’s curiosity and kofun’s, well. kofun’s empathy to go help out literally anyone without thinking about his own safety. when the family came back from their trip you’ve heard from your parents about what had happened to kofun, and how his life flashed before his eyes. though the image stroke fear inside you, it was intriguing, and you wanted to listen about it from himself.

���so how did you escape ?” you’d asked him, his eyes were set on the pebbles scattering the ground, something inside him tells that he should be embarrassed with how he ended up being saved by baba voss. he wished he would have fought them on his own, so that he has something to use to impress you when he got back. he’s been on a pursuit of something great ever since he first saw you, something he could be proud of, something he could impress you with, something that he could do together with you but he’d realised long ago that you’re more similar to his sister than him.

his fingers traced along the assortment of tiny rocks from the riverside, picking one up before throwing it into the flowing water. “baba showed up” he quietly answered, his eyes tried to follow the movement of the pebble though it’s disappeared long ago. he looked nothing different than usual, you still find it difficult to tell what he may be feeling.

“that’s a relief ! he’s an incredible warrior” you nudged his left shoulder with your right one, a grin creeping onto your face trying to light up the moment. “wh- no, what ? no it’s not” he snapped, his eyebrows a tight knit while his head turn towards you. his reaction took you a bit by suprise. now you can tell that he’s irritated, yet you can’t figure out why. the sound of the flowing water suffocates the tension between the two of you before you break the momentarily silence, “what do you mean ?”.

shaking his head slightly, he let out a dragged out sigh as the water surface got broken into again by another throw of his hand. “you don’t get it. and so does haniwa it seems” the pebbles on the ground seem to really pique his interests now, with how much he’s doing with them. your eyes follow his movements along the marbled surface, he had some of them balled into his fists, his knuckles white from the hold. “will you do me a favor ?” he continued, still keeping his head down, if not facing towards the stream. you eagerly nodded, though confusion engulfed through rest of you.

“you have to train me” taken aback by his request, you eyes tracked his down as he searched into your eyes. for a few seconds you struggled to react, dancing around the thought on whether he’s being serious. before you knew it your lips are pursed and you’re letting out a chortle.

“so that’s what this is about ?” you asked him within the remainder of your laugh before he frowned, round eyes roam aimlessly across your face, seeking for comfort.

“what ?” a small pout accompanied his frown.

“-because you couldn’t fight for yourself ?” you couldn’t contain your crooked smile before you continue,

“you know, you’re not that bad of a fighter if it wasn’t for your sulky face” you reassured him, if that even counts as reassurance. for the record your intentions were pure.

“sulk- no i’m not ?” he quickly protested, making you laugh harder

“there !” as the realisation hits he turned his head away from you, warmth growing on his cheeks before he planted his feet firm on the ground, threatening to leave you who’s still giggling.

“okay! okay- kofun stop, fine i’ll train you- we’ll train together” you offered, fixing the last bit of your sentence to accommodate his exasperation. he glanced at you from the corner of his eyes before raising his head to look around

“that’s more like it” he responded, though the organ in his chest is pounding hard against the flesh, the heat on his cheeks that never left, now becoming warmer. the cold weather almost froze both your skin off, making the tinge of red across his cheeks visible. you smiled at him, as you reached over to grab his wrist and hold it up against the sky.

since he’d asked you to train him nothing really changed, it’s not like he hasn’t been training at all. just the fact that before, he didn’t take training seriously, he used to take one wrongful step and decided that he’s done for the day. if you didn’t know any better he just looks like he’s easily given up, and that he didn’t care. in fact, he does care, but now even more so than before with the change of his training partner. you hear the heavy axe slice through thin air landing at the wooden target. “nice, kofun !” you yelp from behind him, excited to see his first bullseye. it’s just the two of you today, haniwa said she was joining the two of you yesterday but found out that baba was gonna go into the woods. you’d told her to listen and not follow behind but you know how she is, jumping at any chance for an adventure.

kofun looks as if he’s maintaining his stance, pulling out an arrow from the leather quiver strapped across his broad back before crossing it with his bow. he’s attempting to match the bullseye he just landed with his arrow this time. with one swift draw of the string, the arrow lands right beside the spiked axe. “it worked !” he exclaims, before turning around to find your reaction to what he just did. “i told you” you respond, referring to the knowledge you shared with him, which was telling him to lock his thumb over his curled fingers when aiming.

you’ve always done it like that, so you showed him how when he quipped about your precise shots. now that he’s getting better at this stuff, he’s becoming more eager to try the things he never bothered about. you picked out the foreign lint sticking on your fur collar before fixing your quiver strap. “what do you wanna do now?” you ask, your hands resting on your waist as you watch him walk over you standing on the flat surface at the side, leaping over some forest bushes.

he looks at you, one hand keeping his bow steady against himself, “one on one” he suggests, his face dripping with amusement and what looks like adrenaline filled excitement to you. beaming, your eyebrows raise slightly as you watch him carefully adjust his stance, hands hooked on the holster decorating his body armour. his legs are planted precisely on the dewy forest ground, ready to take you on. mirroring his actions, you get into your position before falling still as your eyes gleam onto his. he gives you a look of approval before you strike your first move, landing before his shoulder. as you try to read his movements your hand dip towards your holster to pull out the trenchant dagger by its wrapped handle.

“oh we’re using weapons ?” he sneers, eyes sharp as his hand roam over his waist to pull out his own. “don’t worry kofun i’m not gonna poke you” you joke at him, making fun of the fact that he believes that you might thrust the sharp end into his flesh. “i’m not worried” he responds before striking his next move, landing a contact of his flattened palm firm on your side. he got you with that move, as you failed to predict it. he offers you a smirk, fail to mask his obvious pride of landing a contact after sessions of trying to do so. you waste no time taking the opportunity to attack his exposed chest, much to his dismay. his face scrunches up from the slight pain of the strike as his body’s forced backwards a few steps.

shaking his head, he immediately return the attack with his blade bearing hand, swiftly swinging it low. the swing strikes your thigh, slicing open the fibres of your pants with the sharp end dipping just slightly beneath your skin. you let out a yelp out of shock, wincing at the sudden sting on your thigh, you immediately crouch down to press on it, incase the cut is deep. you raise a palm towards kofun who’s taken aback by what just happened, his eyes shoots open as they refuse to register that he just hurt you. “fuck, are you okay ?” he panics, seeing as you’re still pressing down, the pain still circulating the cut for you to remove your hand.

he crouches down before you, his fingers carefully hover over your slightly trembling ones. small droplets of tears start appearing at the corner of your eyes before his large hand cup your smaller ones, soothing the shock you just had. his eyes sharply set on the cut as you begin to remove your fingers, revealing traces of smeared red. the dagger that sliced through your skin has been shoved away by him long ago, too cautious to keep it near you for now.

he reaches into the small pouch at the backside of his belt to pull out a roll of fabric that looks like gauze before wasting no time to spread it over the small cut and wrapping it around your thigh. “you’re okay- you’re gonna be fine” he quickly reassures when he notices your trembling fingers. swallowing the heavy lump in your throat you catch yourself slowly nodding at him, as you purse your lips. your eyes carefully trail along his working fingers, slender and calloused, he looks like he knows what he’s doing.

as he tilt his head up to look at you his eyes are met with your already gleaming ones, trying to blink the moisture away. seeing the eyes he steals glances from daily, the orbs he longs for staring into his deep brown ones sends shiver down his spine. the familiar tinge of red decorating his cheeks. “haniwa always come home with scratches all over her” he explains, trying to distract you from the vanishing pain and his pounding chest.

you nod at him, the mental image of him tending to haniwa’s wounds plays into your mind. the love that the twin has for each other is truly unmatched. his fingers soothe over the wrapped gauze on your thigh before getting up and settling himself. he helps you get up from your position though the pain has started to fade away, and you’re just as good as new. you follow his steps towards the miniature hut both your parents had built for the purpose of storing training equipments and as a shelter. as he settles you down a heavy sigh escapes his lips. the sound jerks your head towards him, who’s pulling a sturdy covered basket before he sits facing you.

“i’m sorry-“ he begins, his head droops low as the obvious dejected aura seeps out of him. “i don’t know what happened it was all so fast-“ before he could spew out more ramblings you stop him, “you don’t have to be sorry kofun, it’s part of the practice. plus i get injured all the time” you assure him, a soft smile peeking from the corner of your lips. he looks at you with beady eyes before shaking his head again.

“yea, but i don’t wanna be the one to hurt you” he lets out softly, almost under his breath yet you’re still able to catch it. your eyes glint at his words, no words are coming out of your mouth, as if you’re tongue tied. “it’s fine, look- it doesn’t even hurt anymore” you chirp out, showing off to him that you’re able to bounce your leg, and that the cut didn’t do anything to actually stop you from being able to move. seeing your smiley face and gleaming eyes staring at him he couldn’t help the chuckle escaping his lips, that soon turns into small laughter.

“guess i just wanted to impress you so much” he starts amongst his laughs before turning his head to stare across the hut. “you don’t have to” your response is playing games with his mind, maybe it’s the training wearing him out but it’s definitely making him lightheaded

“you’re enough as you are kofun” the fingers that were playing on your lap reach over for his large ones, delicately hooking the indexes. he swears he could hear the sound of his heart pounding in his chest, a faint fear creeping into his head that you might hear it too.

struggling to keep his eyes on yours, “you’re perfect” he confesses, a heavy sigh falls from his lips. though the sudden confession is quite odd to you, you’re eager to know the reason he might think so

“what makes you think that ?” you ask

“well,” he starts, letting out a heavy breath

the sudden movement of his fingers on yours makes you dart your eyes towards them

“-you never complain. all i can see you do after failing is get right back up again” his explanation earns a hum from you, his index finger curling around yours. he struggles to wrap his head around the moment you two are having, having only dreamt about this ever at night.

“why do you want to impress people so much ?” you ask him as your eyes roam across his tilted face.

“not people, you.” his short answer ends with an emphasised ‘you’, pushing your shoulders back consequently.

you’re not sure what’s driving your thoughts in returning a response but you feel as if this is the only thing you wanna do at the moment. dipping your head near his face, you cup his jaw with your free hand to tilt it upwards, your eyes inches away from his before closing in the distance between your lips. you feel his tongue poking out past his lips against yours as you feel him lick his upper lips. his tiny action making you curl the corners of your mouth in amusement, a deep sigh falling out of you. your lips dance softly against him, who’s trying his best to return the kiss without making it awkward.

everything’s still too new for him, yet he’s willing to take the chance with you. he’s wanted to for years and the moment finally came. his fingers that were gently hooking your smaller ones grasp slightly harder, before you know it your fingers are intertwined with his, sharing the lingering warmth. the kiss started out slow and pure, as he’s still scared that he might do something to scare you away. he’s pouring all the pent up feeling he’s had for you for the last couple of years into the warm embrace of his lips against yours, allowing the both of you to mould into each other.

you’ve never thought about how soft his lips actually are, but he definitely has about yours. the fingers that were curling into his large ones reach up to the side of his face, your fingertips grazing along his cheeks. you could hear small whimpers escaping his lips as he struggles to breathe with your lips pushing against his. a gentle swipe of your tongue across his plump lips makes him hesitate, as his lips stop chasing yours for a moment. you glance across his face to catch the sight of his long lashes, blinking away at you. hot breath fan against your swollen lips before he connects the both of you in another longing kiss.

as he feels your hands tug at his body armour he hesitantly untie them, before taking it off, temporarily breaking off the kiss. your hands resumes the tugging on his collar this time, as the kiss starts to get heavier and deeper. a quiet moan escapes your lips before his lips trail away from yours, kissing at your jawline, and working its way towards your earlobe. he’s not entirely sure if he’s doing it right but all he wants is to kiss you all over.

starting from your jawline, he continues to kiss the side of your neck, delicately grazing his teeth across the skin and smoothing his tongue over it. his eager lips are nearing your sternum as he makes sure to leave tight trail of kisses, careful to not leave any unkissed spot. he halts the movements of his lips for a moment to catch his breath before leaning forward to kiss your lips again, drinking in your essence.

his hands were roaming across every inch of your body he could reach, kissing you like his life depended on it. you start to untie the training garment wrapped around your body, wasting no time to take off the fabrics and leather that are strapped on you before the session. you’re both now left with your woven shirts on, acting as the base for all the training belts and armours now discarded away. eagerness taking over your conscience as you tug the hem of your shirt over your head, exposing your upper body to him, who’s very much has been struck with a spell upon the view before him. his eyes try to look at everywhere but your exposed breasts, earning a soft chuckle from you.

“you can look, kofun”

his eyes set on yours, struggling to maintain eye contact before you grab his large calloused hands, lifting them from the side of your knees to gently place them on your chest. you can see his adam’s apple visibly bob in his throat as his fingers start to slowly knead and pinch on the sensitive nubs experimentally. his cold hands send shivers down your spine as a gasp escape past your lips from his touch. nothing could prepare him for the sudden confidence washing over him as he bends down to latch his mouth onto one of your tits, his tongue licking the flesh and flicking over the sensitive nub, earning an audible gasp from you. “s’pretty” he murmurs against your skin, as your fingers run across his braided locs. he takes that as a good sign before resuming to suck on your other tit and kissing along the lines of your mound, making you moan as he kisses your under boob.

you try to grab his hands to hold onto them before he snakes them himself and tangle your fingers in between his. he lets his hands go to graze his fingers across the skin of your back and trail along your spine with ghostly touch starting from the bottom to the top. his large hands roam lower at your back, settling them on your waist, just above your butt. his trailing kisses now moving towards your navel, nose nuzzling closely into the flesh of your stomach, eyebrows knitted like he’s concentrating.

stopping just above the drawstrings of your pants, he tilts his chin towards your face, his eyes gleaming with pure adoration. “am i doing it right ?” he asks you innocently, your hands now playing with the tight braids in his hair. “do you wanna go further ?” you respond to him with another question as he nods immediately. “i’ll talk you through” you hear him let out a faint ‘okay’ before you undo the tie on your pants and shimmy out of them with the help of his fingers.

he’s now kneeling before you, his fingers slowly smooth along the skin of your thigh, tracing the gauze he’d wrapped around you earlier. nuzzling his face against your thigh, his eyes hadn’t quite set upon your gleaming core. taking in your scent, he opens his eyes as his body tells him to kiss at your exposed folds. looking at him, he looks like he’s just served with the meal of his life, his eyes drip with anticipation. “you’re so pretty” he lets out as he moves his face further before his lips are met with the soft sensitive flesh of your folds, making him kiss all over them.

the nudge of his nose against your sensitive bud makes you let out a sharp moan, jerking his head away from your core. “what’s wrong ?” he asks worriedly, to which you shake your head and scratch at the hair on his temple. he continues his peppering kisses along your folds before he starts kitten licking at where he just kissed. the sensation leaves your lips falling apart, the soft moans from them increasing in volume.

“so good, kofun” your words guide him on what feels good, so he tries to suck on your dripping folds next, earning another moan of pleasure from you. he takes a mental note on the things that emit good response from you before combining them all in a much increased pace. his assault on your pussy makes your hips buck against his face, to which he pushes your back so your pussy’s planted further into his face.

“mm- that’s good kofun, oh” you let him know

“yeah ?” he asks innocently, to make sure he’s on the right track but his little action turns you on like hell

“is this okay ?” pulling his mouth away from your pussy, he asks to confirm but the loss of pressure against your wet cunt making you whine. you nod your head vigorously as your hand pushes the back of his head back to your aching core.

he resumes his sucking on your clit, the sensitive spot making your hips buck into his face, involuntarily earning a low groan from him. the vibration from his groan feels electric against your pussy before his mouth start to slowly travel towards your clenching hole. he gives the rim experimental licks which receive a whine from you. “more, please- kofun” your pleas sound heavenly in his ears especially how his name flows out of your lips, sending blood rushing to his hardening length. your sounds stimulates him to try sucking on your hole this time, slurping up the wetness oozing out of it. the tip of his nose is now grazing along your wet folds, the pleasure making you arch your back into him.

“need more, please-” you beg. he’s determined to please you, his hands pushing hard against your lower back so your pussy is slotted up his face. “need your tongue inside” with your final guide, he pokes his tongue into your hole, flicking the tip around the walls, earning loud moans and hard tugs on his hair from you. now that he knows the spots most pleasurable for you, he does it all over again with the indication from your whines and moans.

just as he start to suck from your hole up towards your clit, he feels your hips bucking for the last time before high pitched moans spill from your lips. your pretty sounds alone are enough to make him cum right there and then. your hands frantically push his head away as he continued his licks after your orgasm, not knowing that you might be too sensitive. he just thought that it felt good.

he immediately raises his head to look at you, his mouth and nose are covered in your wetness, glinting in your essence. “why- did i do something wrong ?” he asks, to which you cup your hands on his cheeks while shaking your head. “m’ sensitive” you respond, making him fall quiet as his eyes take in all your pretty fucked out features from the orgasm. he gently smoothes his fingers along your thighs as he waits for you to settle down, eager to go again. “you’re so so pretty” he admits to your face, making your cheeks heat up and your insides tingly. he’s adorable, you think. his words almost make your stomach flip inside out, you’re in peace with the sudden overwhelming feeling you have for him.

“can i go again ?” as you seem to have picked yourself up he asks politely, large hands settling on your ass from the spot you’re sitting. you’re taken aback by his question, thinking that you’ve definitely worn him out from the previous orgasm yet you find yourself nodding your head, giving him the green light. with his nose and mouth still covered in your cum from before he dives back into your folds, repeating a similar pattern as before from what he’d learned. it’s not long until the second wave crashes down and you’re cumming again on his face. strike two.

as much as he wants to eat out your pussy forever the strain in his woven pants is starting to hurt, and he can feel his tip getting more and more sensitive by the second. fear stalks his entire being that he might cum in his pants. you notice him twitching around in his position before you look down to see the huge bulge that has formed in his thin pants. he’s kissing up your thigh at the moment, still wanting to go at your pussy again but you want him to feel good too. you begin to move against his kisses to get up from your position and pulling him from the ground. his knees are getting sore from the kneeling yet he doesn’t even realise.

“why ?” he asks

“wanna make you feel good too”

“you were making me feel good” he responds, it’s true, he was having the time of his life in between your thighs. if only he knew what’s in for him

switching your places with him, he’s now seated at the spot you were in earlier, confusion visible in his face yet he’s waiting for your next move patiently. the bulging tent in his pants is accompanied with a wet spot at where the tip’s supposed to be, as you can see it jumping slightly. heat creeps onto his face from you seeing him like this before he purses his lips. pulling at the drawstrings slowly, his eyes follow your every movements closely, occasionally wincing when the friction rubs against the sensitive tip. his hands rest obediently on his sides, not knowing what to do with them as you carefully pull his pants down, pooling at his ankle. “you okay ?” you ask him to make sure, to which he nods his head

his hardened length bounces against his navel when it’s released, his raging red tip glistening with precum. the sudden cold air hitting his hard on making him wince and throw his head back. he lets out a breath but it comes out shuddered, his thigh sit stiffly trying not to move the heavy length of his cock. you eye his shaft from the base, his balls heavy and full, his length girthy with a prominent vein travelling along the base to the top. at the end is his sensitive tip, raging with the prettiest shade of pink and a bead of precum threatening to spill. he lets out a small whimper as he patiently waits for you to do something, his fingers itching to wrap around his length but something tells him not to. “please do something please” his turn to spread his pleas around, his chest heaves with shuddering breaths.

you place your thumb and index finger on his tip, feeling the sticky substance oozing out of it, the contact making him moan. the skin on his length looks as if it’s gonna hurt if you just touch it so you follow your instincts to let a glob of spit fall onto your hand, before immediately spreading it along the hard shaft. kofun’s trying his very best to conceal his loud moans from the pleasure and from the fact that your fingers are wrapped around his cock. his face contorts in pleasure, his eyebrows a tight knit with his mouth agape. the attempts at concealing his moans making them turn into whimpers instead, something you’re not complaining about.

you give him an experimental pump down his shaft, earning a twitch of his thigh. seeing as the one pump is good, you start to jerk him off, your arms settled on his lap. hearing him wince, “s’cold” he lets out slowly. your first thought and reaction to his complain is to sink your face down his cock, keeping the shaft warm with your mouth. he couldn’t see your actions coming, making his thigh jump and his hips buck into your mouth. “sorry” he immediately apologises before you take your mouth off his cock and get up. you mentally agree that you’re ready to take him before settling your legs in between his, you hover your pussy over his hard cock before sinking on it. the tight wet warmth of your walls around his length earning loud moans from the both of you, the pleasure unmatched with anything you’ve done before.

“fuck” you hear him mutter under his breath, he’s struggling to maintain his composure. his hands are now settled on your waist, you’re fully sitting on him now, your legs bent and feet settled on his thighs. the both of you bask in the silence and pleasure for a moment, trying to adjust with the all new feeling. “should i move ?” you begins, as he slowly nods, his palm guiding you on his cock. his length a perfect fit in your pussy, with his tip protruding against your sensitive spots every now and then. the stretch is definitely something new to you, but the pleasure takes over any other sense. his cock moves snuggly in and out of your hole, stretching your walls at every second possible. his heavy balls slap against your ass, the sound of skin slapping erupting through the depth of the forest.

as you bounce on his hard cock you pray for everyone to be too busy with their own stuff to realise that you and kofun has been gone for longer than you should. his gleaming eyes are set on yours, admiring your pretty orbs like he always does in secret. mouth agape, he looks as fucked out as he’s ever been, letting his cock thrust in and out of your cunt. his cheeks look flushed, his lips swollen from kissing and from eating you out. reaching down, you rest your forehead against his before connecting your lips once again, as he shuts his eyes in contentment. your lips move as if they’ve missed each other, moulding against the curves of each of your lips.

pullng away from the kiss, you rest your temple against his, skin moist from all the steam and sweat. wrapping your arms around his neck, you try to steady your bounces on his lap as he rests his chin on your shoulder, his mouth agape trying to catch his breath. his fingers roam against the skin of your ass, before grabbing at them and slamming them down against his cock, making both you and him moan. you hear him groan lowly into your ears, before his thighs start twitching and his hands on your ass no longer slamming on a regular pace. the pleasure starts to cloud his mind as he shuts his eyes, staggering groans escaping his lips. before you know it his cum starts shooting and painting your clenching walls, warm spurts of white threatening to seep out from the side of his cock out of your pussy.

you’ve stopped bouncing, and now both of you are catching your breaths, limbs tangled against each other. you offer him a droopy smile, to which he pulls you in for a deepened kiss, swiping his tongue across the swollen flesh. “are you okay ?” is his first question after pulling away, his fingers moving the strands of hair sticking onto your face to the side. you return him a look, seeing his flushed cheeks and beads of sweat decorating his temple. nodding your head to reassure him, “im okay, are you ?” he nods as a response, “mh-mm” he confirms.

“i think this is more workout than the training we did today” you start, a chuckle escapes your lips. he offers you a meek smile before also chuckling to himself. he stares at the door of the hut, before his eyes turn to search into yours.

“thank you for believing in me” he chirps out, his voice quiet, almost like a whisper

you both sit in silence for a moment catching your breaths, and taking in the realisation of what just happened. you feel his fingers around your waist fiddling around, fingertips softly grazing against the skin. as you feel settled, his hands roam around your waist before wrapping his fingers around it. your hands settle on his shoulder as he hoists you up, guiding your hips before settling you down beside him. small drops of cum trickling down your thighs from the friction. the loss of contact and warmth makes him wince before letting out a low groan. now that you’re seated beside each other, skin sticky from all the sweat, he leans down to reach the the hem of his pants to pull it up his legs. he reaches over for your pants that’s laying on his side before helping you get them on. you tie the drawstrings carefully before taking your shirt from his hand.

“why me ?” you start, breaking off the silence

“huh ?” he quips, fingers busy adjusting the strings on his collar

“do you like me kofun ?” you ask him, he knows well that you don’t mean as friends.

he turns his resting head towards you, his fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

“i do” he answers shortly. the quick response from him is enough for you, so you nod in return.

he sucks in a deep breath before starting to talk

“—whenever you’d come by our tent to get haniwa i catch myself staring at you. i should be ashamed,” stopping halfway through, he continues-

“—im glad you haven’t realised that i’m always somewhere at the corner when you train with her, watching you while struggling to keep my heart from pounding out of my chest-” your ears perk up, tilting your head down to look at your fingers

“—cause that would’ve been embarrassing”

“it’s embarrassing how often i try to figure out ways to get closer to you-”

“—so is the fact that no matter how many times i try to convince myself that the feelings are just my mind playing games with me, i catch myself thinking about you instead”

“i know it sounds crazy but everything seems to move slower when i look at you-”

“—and when it’s your turn to look at me i pray that i look the best i could” just as his words start to trail off, his head tilts down. his heart is still pounding like it always does when he’s near you, but he pushes through the feeling.

your silence is agonising, anticipation slowly piercing into him. reaching your hand out towards his lap, you gently spread your fingers into his large palm, warmth radiating into yours. “you’re dramatic” you comment, turning your head to face him. the comment makes him let out a chuckle, heat splaying across his cheeks from embarrassment. you take a deep breath beside him, your shoulders raising before you continue, “i like you” your beady eyes gleam onto his temple, as he turn his head to meet yours with his glossy ones.

as the both of you sit there chuckling to yourselves you find yourself resting your temple on his shoulder. letting out a sigh, you glance outside, noticing that the sun’s starting to set and the sky’s dimming.

the gang: @radioloom @love-me-pls @juniperhasfallen @luckystrikerealness @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @r4vn @khxna @themoonchildwhofell @fuckshitslover

[soopsiedaisies]

this is for those who despair over seeing ships or tropes that make them uncomfortable while they do their little scrolly-scroll on ao3, acting like they aren’t responsible for their own internet experience

(alternatively, the back button also works)

[lilacxquartz]

love you, love you, love you;

mr. crawling x reader

plot: some things are best expressed without the need of words — themes: spooning/cuddling, smut, maybe yan vibes — w.c: 1.1k

a/n: my first homicipher related fic. i want to try one for mr. silvair & mr. gap next, bc they were also my favs. this game has been taking over my life so much lately. like it’s been in my dreams, haaah.

masterlist • ao3

Mr. Crawling was always loud when he was excited within your company; his laughter filled out the vast empty spaces that were otherwise unadorned with familiarity. Whatever you once sought from those winding corridors was ever-fleeting, temporary, leaving you stuck within the confines of his company.

Yet, when he felt what you could only interpret as affection—that’s when Mr. Crawling then became different—quiet, soothing, kind but also… curious.

And when you would usually sleep, he would stand watch, knelt over the floor as per his usual stance but sometimes crouched near you, sometimes leaning back against the wall with his legs pressed up against his chest. He would watch you as his life depended on it, unwavering in focus and with eerie intensity. He would watch as your chest rose and fell, leaning close on occasion to catch the sweep of your breath and sometimes, he would trace the pad of his milky fingertips in long, languid strokes against your face. Always so delicate, so tender, but for the most part, quiet and even shy.

Having once caught a glimpse of Mr. Gap in your blanket space, however, set something territorial off for Mr. Crawling and he was never able to recover from such an invasion. The very idea that someone else was able to infiltrate what he deemed to be your space—especially someone who he disapproved of—wasn’t something he could stand for. Especially with the sort of trickster Mr. Gap was, he couldn’t bear to see you get hurt. It would kill him on the inside (and on the outside, too).

So, just as you were getting into bed to rest up once more, he too, slipped in under the covers with you. At first, you were startled as usual, turning to face him with confusion evident in your eyes, murmuring out some words in a language that he still could not understand. He repeated something back, the meaning lost and indecipherable upon your ears, though soon surrendering to emphasis using gestures instead. A hug to bring you closer, a reassuring pat on your head and a small, longing kiss over your nose.

You listened to his words again, repeating over and over like a broken record.

Perhaps he meant no harm, after all.

You turned your back to him and settled into his chest, finding that he was surprisingly warm for what he was. His taller frame encased your body, wrapping his ashen arms around your waist—accidentally brushing the fabric that sat over your breast—nicking the cloth ever so slightly. Your breath hitched in surprise and as though in sheepish realisation, he withdrew right away, terrified that you were upset with him.

You drew out a long breath, reminding yourself again, that after everything that has happened thus far…

That, Mr. Crawling does not want to hurt you.

That Mr. Crawling has only ever helped you.

So perhaps, right now, Mr. Crawling only wanted to be closer to you.

You relaxed your breathing, settling into his comforting shadow once more and allowed for his presence to envelop you. He repeated the soothing motions of his grappling arm, although he held onto you softer that time. His hands explored your body with a delicate touch, as though afraid of breaking you—of upsetting you again—his motions growing confident the longer that you didn’t protest. It wasn’t long before he, otherwise not disturbed by your lacking, conscious awareness, decided to explore further with you. Mr. Crawling’s fingers didn’t ask for permission that time, creeping beneath the clinging fabric, feeling your skin against his palms, inviting a pleased, almost delighted smile to curl on his lips.

The silence remained unbroken as Mr. Crawling continued his explorative focus on you; the quickly-building evidence of his need growing harder the longer he pushed himself behind your body, the repeated touches arousing something warmer within him. To both his surprise as well as your own—you were not repulsed, allowing him to creep even lower, below the skirt of the dress and up, brushing his hand up to your exposed skin and, reading into it—you communicated your consent from the moment you parted your legs, allowing him to get even closer.

Confidence surged in Mr. Crawling as he pushed himself into your hilt, allowing his hardened length to slip inside. Betraying the stagnant silence, he shuddered out a ragged gasp before giving into his own rising need; grinding himself into your sopping sex with steadily increasing fervour. His fingers clamped around the curve of your hips as he held you in place, slamming every last inch of himself deep into your core.

Ever touch-starved yet wanting nothing more than to surrender to the sensation of you, Mr. Crawling continued to drive his cock into your needy cunt, soon wrapping his winding arms around your body and holding on tight. He bucked intensely as you soon succumbed to breathless whimpers, incoherently begging for his name. Equally desperate whines rolled off the slip of his tongue as he found his lips pressed into the crook of your neck, dampening your skin with sloppy wet kisses—as many as he could give.

It felt overwhelming for you in a way to be worshipped like this but you did your best to keep up with such intensity, especially as the warm, tingling pleasure built up inside of you, too. You held on just as tight as he did, your hand seeking out his own—fingers weaving into his bony digits—interlocking and squeezing tight the closer you got, your grip and otherwise clenching need tightening simultaneously. To feel him losing himself inside of you was dare you admit, addicting, feeling him completely fill and stretch you out leaving you almost dizzied from the impaling force.

Mr. Crawling, like you, soon surrendered to the rolling bliss from the flick of his hips, feeling a surging warmth mount and rise, encouraging him to lose himself to the searing heat of the moment and you. Encircling your body in a possessive hug, he suddenly began to mutter out a new word in a strained mantra, again and again.

Given how desperate he seemed to be, you understood the meaning as ‘close’, especially as his actions grew more strained and less controlled.

“Close, close, close,” he repeated.

It didn’t take his chased release to catch up as his hips grew to a stutter, rutting out one final pump before melting into you. Mr. Crawling cried into your neck, spilling out the entirety of his overflowing love, feeling the pent-up devotion trickle down your thighs—yet not letting you move away—still retaining his claim on you.

Instead, he kept you even closer than before, not allowing you to part from him ever again (despite understanding your yearning for rest).

Words were never the problem, it seemed.

Mr. Crawling would have always found a way to… connect with you.

[codecicle]

Whar does rpf mean 💔💔💔

historians aren't quite sure. Albert Einstein's last words were "rpf is fine" and we've been searching ever since

[tadfools]

You guys are commenting on the fics you read right? You’re at least leaving kudos on the Astarion smut and the pairs that have less than 20 fics for them too? You’re bookmarking stories you really like that are still being updated and ones that haven’t been touched in over a year right?

You know that even the smallest interactions are like cocaine to fic writers right? You understand how important a string of emoji hearts left behind on a chapter at three am is right?? Right????

You’re treating AO3 like a community and not a content factory….right?

[not-rab]

this with jily BUT james ends up falling in love with the therapist (*cough* regulus)

[knifeforkspooncup]

The comedic potential of Aziraphale loving Christmas in theory but hating it in reality, which gives him catholic guilt/bad angel feelings, so he triples down on Christmas spirit to compensate. He's decking the halls like no tomorrow, he's partidging that pear tree, ohhh he's jingling those bells alright and cooing over the love in the air and isn't it wonderful Crowley, the spirit of christmas my dear, i may have done a little miracle and made it snow in Tadfield, Crowley. Meanwhile he's holed himself up in the bookshop like its under seige from guerilla christmas shoppers, he can't seem to get a single cup of cocoa that doesn't have peppermint in it, 4 children this week have poked him in the belly and asked him if he's santa clause, and to top it all off Mr. Brown has asked him to play the role of Gabriel in the Whickber street Nativity Play.

Crowley's in the corner watching the angel's eye get progressively twitchier and using up his entire demonic miracle quota to make sure Aziraphale's cup never empties of blindingly acoholic eggnog.

[joelsdagger]

only then, i am good || one shot

joel miller x f!reader

masterlist || ao3 || follow @joelsdaggerupdates for fic updates!

pairing: daddy jackson!joel x f!reader summary: you have a bad day in which it makes you question your worth. only joel can make you see the truth. warnings: jackson era [well into the tlou2 timeline but nothing bad happens], implied age gap [i warn you, joel is old old], angst [in the form of internal turmoil], feelings of guilt/burdening, established relationship, dd/lg dynamics, soft daddy dom!joel, daddy kink, praise kink, size kink, finger sucking, pet names galore [baby, sweetheart, little girl, angel] size kink, reader is hella needy, reader has pubic hair bc i said so, smidgen of cockwarming, just the tip mention, dubcon*, dacryphilia, unprotected piv, nipple play, belly bulge, creampie, joel is reader’s personal weighted blanket, fluff, aftercare. *reader is not in the right headspace to properly consent to piv but she’s a-okay with it! word count: 3.8k

a/n: i’ve been to emotional (and physical) hell and back (are we back? who knows) these last few weeks and it had me yearning for daddy jackson!joel. so this is what this is. it’s a tad different from my typical style of writing and it’s not betaed and very very loosely proofread (barely looked thru it while in the waiting room lol), so it’s probably shit but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless xx

You should’ve double-checked the lock. Triple-checked it. As always. Hand to God, it slipped your mind. You were tired. Achy and sleepy, and you just wanted to go home. Back to Joel. Curl your spent body into the thick, burly warmth of his and let him cradle you until the whole day wipes itself from memory. 

You’ve been asking them for more responsibilities — a more serious role within Jackson, for months. After today, you’re sure they’ll never take you seriously. Never see you as one of them. They’re so much older and wiser — experienced. And you…well, you are not.

They never fuck up. Never make mistakes that would risk losing an important asset to this safe haven. And today you have. You fucked up. You don’t know how you forgot. It’s been your only job here, the only thing they let you have, and still — you messed it up. 

You forgot to lock the stall door to the stable for one of the horses. And not only did the horse escape but now the town is technically down one patrolman. You have completely thrown off the patrolling schedule, one that was meticulously crafted and has been in place long before you arrived in Jackson. It very rarely changed. 

You offered to lend a hand, practically begged them to send you out with the rest of the search party. But Maria, Tommy, and Joel all told you to go home while they sent a group (of which included Joel and Tommy themselves) outside the gates, well past dusk, to go looking for him. You felt entirely useless.

Begrudgingly, you scurried home, a beaten puppy in need of licking one’s wounds. Feeling the weight of the day and the frustration that has accumulated over months suddenly seeping into your bones, and you just…broke. You crawled into bed, alone in the dark, and you cried for hours, your mind spiraled, turning over the mistake you made, again and again and again. 

When it stops and the wracking sobs slow into shuddery hiccups, it’s only because you hear heavy footsteps in the hallway. Slow. Tired. But steady — sure. And that nauseating sensation in the pit of your stomach returns as the footsteps grow closer and closer. 

The door creaks open slowly, pale yellow light from the hallway spills through the crack, your puffy eyes squint and flutter against the sudden light, shape of him vague in your blurry vision, but you know it’s him: tall frame, broad shoulders, pale skin, and dark features.  

Joel. 

You curl your body tighter, making yourself as small as possible. Close your eyes, and bury your tear-stained face back into the damp royal blue of his linens, the piney scent of him everywhere: his pillows, his sheets, his mattress, clouding your mind. You hear his footsteps as he rounds the bed, feel him reach over and switch on the lamp beside you. He grunts, his joints creak as you feel his weight sinking the edge of the bed, settling himself down in the ‘c’ shape your body had formed.

“We found him. Fella was out by Hidden Pines,” voice soft, almost cautious. 

You nod silently, but you don’t look at him, not wanting to embarrass yourself even more, not wanting him to see how pathetic you look after spending hours upon hours sobbing into the pillows over a mistake you made.  

A heavy hand cups your knee over the sheets, thumb stroking bone through the fabric there. 

“It wasn’t your fault, baby.” He says, surely.

But you don’t really believe him. 

You sniffle and tilt your face away from the tear-soaked pillows just enough so he can hear you. “Yes, it was. I was the last one in there. It’s my job to take the horses back and settle them in for the night. My job to make sure they stay in the stables. It’s been my job, my only job all this time, and I can’t even do that right,” you ramble, voice breaking, bottom lip wobbling, fat tears pricking your red eyes once again. 

“No. You listen here,” he says sternly, feeling his body turn beside you, bed covers bunching up around your knees. “You did lock it, but the latch was loose, honey. Tommy and I tried ‘em. They’re due for a fixin’ n’ we should’ve been checkin’ ‘em, but that’s my job, not yours. This wasn’t on you, darlin’. You hear me?”

You avoid his eye and stay furled on the bed. Silence swells between you, and you fiddle with a stray thread in his sheets.

“He wasn’t supposed to take off like that, but he’s a younger horse,” he shrugs, and a sigh falls from his lips. “It happens. Whoever was mannin’ the wall tonight should’ve seen him. Many things were at play, baby. It wasn’t your fault.” He says in a matter-of-fact tone.

Your head snaps over your shoulder in a fury. “I could’ve helped fix it. I could’ve made it right,” you bite, shaky voice laced with venom. You don’t mean for it to sound so harsh, but it manages to stifle the sob that threatens to claw up your throat. And for a second, the irritation in your voice doesn’t rattle you until you notice Joel’s shoulders tense, and you regret it immediately. 

A whirlpool of emotions swirls in your belly. A weird noise squeaks out from your lips as you try to fruitlessly blink away the sleep and salt in your eyes. You don’t want to cry in front of him. You bury your face into the pillow again, trying to muffle the sob-like groan as you cringe away from Joel, ashamed. 

His hand drifts up your thigh, broad palm splayed across your flesh, his touch unwavering. “Sweetheart, the only reason I told you to stay here s’because it ain’t safe out there. The amount of infected may be less this time o’year but the cold…” He trails off, his grip tightening around the meat of your thigh unconsciously, “makes people meaner,” his voice grows unsteady at the thought. 

You shiver, and you suspect he feels it. He clears his throat, and tender fingers brush the strands of hair out of your face, then they trail down, and you feel the cold roughness of his skin against the warm softness of yours as his calloused hand cups your jaw, tilting it to face him, forcing you to meet his eyes. 

Your eyes pinch shut, and the dam breaks. You can’t bear to look at him. Your heart sits heavy in your chest, feeling the guilt creeping back in at his touch. His hands, usually warm, are now icy cold, and all you can think about is how you are the cause of it. He had been out in the cold longer than he needed to be because of you. You and he both know his worn bones can’t handle it, and yet, he went out there in the dead of winter as nightfall cloaked over Jackson to right your wrong, and it makes you feel terrible. 

“Baby. Look at me,” he whispers softly.

You do, and through bleary eyes you meet his weary gaze. His lips are downturned into a frown, and with a twist in his brows, that worry line in the middle of his forehead materializes. You hate being the cause of it. Your heart plops to your stomach, your throat goes thick, something rising at the base of it. 

“What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me,” he implores, his voice stern but soft, eyes shifting back and forth between yours — dark amber irises so warm, pleading.  

Teach me to be good. “Just you, daddy – just need you,” you blubber, your voice innocent and small. Weak. 

He knows exactly what you mean. You have been together long enough that he reads you like an open book. You watch as he wordlessly toes off his boots with a thud. Watch as he moves to stand to unbuckle his belt, dropping it to the floor with a soft clink, his jeans, jacket, and flannel following shortly after. Watch as he shifts onto the bed, bones crackling as he lowers himself and presses his broad form into you, his knees popping as they coax yours open. Watch as one of his hands drifts south between your bodies to grip the thick root of his cock while the other bunches up your nightgown to your navel, revealing your unobstructed cunt to him.  

You whimper when the leaky head of his cock notches at the already slippery entrance of your cunt. He glides the wide cockhead between your folds, up and down, up and down, while the warmth of his breath fans across your face when his lips part to murmur, just the tip tonight, baby, s’not a good idea for you to take all o’me right now, alright? 

You nod numbly. You don’t care how much he gives you — you just need to feel him. Need him to fix you. Need him to make the hurt you feel inside go away. Need him to search for the good. Maybe it’s there, buried deep in a place only he can find. 

His hands find yours, pins them firmly above your head, and with his dark gaze holding yours, he very gently pushes his tip inside your tight, wet hole. His mouth pops open in a deep groan, and you catch it with a soft gasp of your own. 

“There you go. S’that feel better, pretty baby?” He murmurs, his jaw ticks, brows twitch.  

You nod desperately, your wide, glassy eyes going hooded. Your thighs tense around him, causing a little more of his cock to push inside, making you whimper and squirm beneath him.  

“Good. Now just listen to my voice. Just focus on me, right here,” he grunts haggardly, voice so low and commanding. And that alone makes your brain go fuzzy. 

You try to focus all your energy on his voice and the heavy weight of him on top of you and the fat tip of his cock stretching your too little hole open, but suddenly, he pulls out, and you almost whine at his absence.

But Joel doesn’t give you enough time. 

Your body moves up the bed with a jolt, gasping when his hips push forward with more force, filling your cunt with the head of his cock, and then some more, only to slip out of you again immediately after. He’s toying with you, and he’s doing so because he knows you really need this. 

He slips his cockhead gently back inside you, and you whine at the soft squelch your slicken pussy makes. The two of you revel in the lewd, wet sounds that ricochet through the room, all while never breaking eye contact. 

“My little girl just needed me to fuck all the bad thoughts away, hm?” he breathes, his nose brushes against yours.

“Mmhm,” you sigh, cunt flittering around him. 

“Needed me to stretch out her sweet little hole and make everything better, s’that it?” 

You nod frantically, moaning breathlessly. 

Joel growls. “Say yes, daddy,” he commands you softly, his fingers squeezing yours.

“Y—ye—yes, d–daddy.” Your words come out broken in between the slow rolls of his hips, but by the smirk that tugs on his lips, you know he’s proud of you anyway. 

“Good girl,” he praises, his touch featherlight as his fingers push the stray strands of hair away from your forehead, and the scruff of his chin tickles your nose as he lays an open-mouthed kiss between your furrowed brows.  

“But daddy—” you start to protest, scrunching your nose. 

Joel harrumphs as he pulls back. All of his features pull into a stern look, and to stop you, the pad of his roughened thumb sweeps across your cheek and sinks between your parted lips. 

“Na-uh. No fightin’ with daddy,” he presses gently. 

By instinct, your lips close around his digit, sucking it into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the thick of it, tasting the salty, woodsy flavor of him, and it only feeds the foggy haze in your mind more. 

Spit pools at the corner of your lips. His thumb moves in and out of your mouth, matching the rhythm of his thrusts as he fucks his cockhead in and out of your hole. Your mind begins to blur, but there’s still a storm stirring in your swollen eyes, and Joel, as always, can see it. 

“Alright, this ain’t workin’,” he sighs exasperatedly. 

And you think he’s utterly fed up with you not obeying him. He unsticks his body from yours, and your eyes search his face — the lines beside his eyes, the hairs in his brows, the muscles around his lips — trying to decode the emotion that flits across his features. Though, as expected, it’s near impossible to read him. Joel may have been able to crack you open, and although the years he has spent in Jackson have managed to soften him up — tiny cracks in his stony exterior over time — he remains inscrutable. 

For a moment, you think he’s going to scold you. Tell you you’re no good for him anymore. You wouldn’t blame him. You can’t seem to do anything right. Maybe he thought he wanted to take you apart, bit by careful bit. But what if he peered through the gap and saw something he didn’t like? What if he had a change of heart — now that he stepped back and assessed the damage? What if the severity of it was too much to mend? Burden too heavy to carry. He doesn’t deserve that. He deserves someone good. Someone not in need of fixing. Someone unbroken. 

But Joel surprises you. His hand retracts from your face, and instead wraps his arm around your middle, maneuvering you onto his thighs so you're straddling him. His free hand fists the hem of your nightgown, and in one swift motion, tugs the fabric over your head and tosses it aside to join his pile of clothes on the floor. His heavy hands find your waist once again, and with the head of his cock still buried deep in between your legs, he sits up and back against the headboard, grunting a low, alright, c'mere, as he takes you with him with ease.

You cling to him like a koala, body putty and pliant as he brings your weak arms to wrap around his neck. And then, a firm hand moves to cradle the back of your neck, lets you nuzzle your wet face into the dip in his shoulder, and breathe in the comfort of his scent while his other traverses the line of your spine.

Slow but steady, Joel bucks his hips up, up, up, until the entirety of his thick length works its way into the slick slide of your cunt. Your soft thatch of curls meets his, softly grazes your clit, and you writhe in his arms, sniffle, and whimper brokenly against his shoulder, but sure, gentle hands pull you into his chest tighter. You feel the strong drum of his heart against yours, thrumming against each other: ga-gung, ga-gung, ga-gung, pace quickening, like they're trying to catch up, trying to sync. Your body melts into his. Skin to skin, heart to heart, heat of your cunt to the heat of his cock; and then suddenly, two become one.

“Shh, shhh, I know, baby, I know. You got it,” he whispers, as he begins to rock you back and forth, back and forth, lulling you gently back into the haze, and everything finally fades away. 

He presses a kiss right behind your ear. “Therrrre we go, just take it, good girl,” he murmurs as a heavy hand pets your hair. And whether he’s talking about his cock or his praise, you obey regardless. Your cunt sucks the heat of his cock in deep. Let him fuck himself into you; let his warmth smolder you until your cunt ignites. Let it roar and burn and spread through your system like wildfire. Let him make you good.

The tips of his fingers move through your hair in small ministrations, gently scratching away at your skull. “Daddy—s–so big—” you whimper, your fingers pulling the hair at the nape of his neck, tears welling up in your eyes as something low in your belly begins to churn. 

“Shhh, angel, it’s okay. I know, s’a lot,” he soothes, feeling his deep voice reverberate against your chest. Your cunt contracts at his praise, and the steady pace of his hips falters briefly; he groans deeply when he feels his tip choked tight within your walls, “you’re doin’ so good for me, sweetheart, so good.”  

He continues his shallow thrusts while he rocks you in his arms. There’s a low static buzz in your ears, but you can still hear the perverse chant that manages to fall from your lips — one that grows louder with every roll of his hips, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy. And in turn, he murmurs incessant blabbers of, you’re okay, angel, daddy’s here, daddy’s gotcha, into your hair, punctuating every one of his words with a soft kiss to your temple and a slow buck of his hips.  

The tip of his cock nudges that soft ridge deep inside you, and he feels your cunt flutter around him. “You gonna come for me, angel, hm? You gonna be a real good girl for daddy and let me feel this drippy little pussy come all over me?” He coos.  

“Uh-huh,” you murmur. 

Deft fingers curl around the back of your neck, and with the slightest of pressure, he squeezes once, gently instructing you to use your words. A silent command. 

“Y-yes, daddy, I prom–I promise, I wanna be good. I wanna be good,” you mewl.

His nose drags along the side of your face, down, down, down, until his heated lips meet your pulse point. “Go on, baby, let go n’ get daddy all messy. Show daddy how good of a girl you are,” he rambles, his voice a low vibration, goosebumps prickling in its wake.

With your tight cunt full and impaled on his cock, your clit throbs, eager for more friction. You rut your hips against his, humping him like a dog in heat as you rub your puffy pearl against the graying curls there, smearing him in your slick just as he insisted.   

And within seconds, your body constricts, navel pulls taut, and then something fiery in your belly erupts. Your body begins to tremble as stars burst behind your eyelids, liquid heat turns your mind and body molten, melting away completely with the force of your release.

“Daaaddy,” you cry, lips quivering. Your muscles go lax, and your body slumps in his hold, feeling the last of your energy leaving you. Your head lulls back, and his hand slides up the base of your neck in time to catch it in his massive palm.

He clutches you tight, marveling at your fucked-out form in his arms while babbling praises of,  ohhh–that’s it, that’s it, good job, baby, such a good fuckin’ girl— daddy’s so proud of you, as warm tears roll down your face. And it only spurs him on. 

His languid strokes speed up, your body jolts above him violently, weeping cunt fluttering repeatedly around him. Your mouth falls open, wanton moans escape past your parted lips as he fucks you harder. “Christ, that’s it, that’s my girl. Look at you, perfect little thing,” he pants, coaxing you through your orgasm. 

His eyes drop quickly to watch the bounce of your tits, nipples peaked and gleaming with beads of sweat. He dips his head to one sticky breast, and with a flick of his hot tongue, he laps up the salt on your skin. 

It elicits a sharp gasp from you, your chewed fingernails desperately trying to claw at him, your body arching against his mouth, and you feel him grin against the curve of your breast. His mouth drifts, wraps his whiskered lips around your other swollen nipple, tongue swirls the pointed bud, teasing you with a graze of his teeth across the wet peak before nipping it, tugging the stiffened point ever so slightly between his teeth.  

“Daddy–oh!” You choke on a moan, and your spent pussy clenches around him so tight, your cunt is almost forcing him out. His hips buck into you harder in response, his thrusts growing more erratic as he seeks his own release. 

Joel hisses, mouth releasing your tit with a wet pop, “sweet Jesus, m’gonna give it to you real good, baby—like you deserve, fuck—”

He's cut off by the strangled groan that rips through his chest, his back arches off the headboard, and you feel him twitch. His grasp on your enervated form tightens, and then a blazing heat spreads inside you. His sweaty forehead falls to your dampened chest, the swell of your breasts cushioning the drop of his head, his body convulsing as he pumps upwards into your core. Cock pulsing and spasming within your walls as he continues to spill inside you, your belly swelling and set to burst full of his seed.  

Joel slumps back against the headboard, his arms loosen, but they don’t release you, just holds you there on top of him as he presses hasty kisses and whispers shaky sweet nothings into your hair while his hot seed dribbles out around his length, turning the hair at the root of his cock into a pool of sticky milky white.  

You don’t know if it’s minutes or hours that pass by as you stay limp in his lap, breathing in the sweat and sex on his skin as you snuggle back into his neck, the heat a low simmer. But when he runs a warm, wet rag between your legs and uses the same one to wipe your mixed wet off of his shaft before he tucks you in with a peck to your lips, the tip of your nose, a long kiss to your forehead, and lays himself on top of you with the full weight of him, pulling the comforter up to trap the heat of your bodies between you, sore cunt plugged with his softened cock once more, you know that he makes you feel whole. Not ruined or broken. Not stupid or useless or helpless. And in truth, it's all you’ve ever known with him.

As you slip gently into the waiting black, small fingers that draw circles into his silver curls come to a slow, you think you hear a quiet sigh — feel his lips lazily form around the words against your tacky skin — something of, you are good, angel tucked away into the valley between your naked breasts like a secret. And you think you believe him, and for now, that’s enough for you.

[frownyalfred]

I'm seeing a lot of "ugh, so we can't even criticize fic authors anymore?" posts popping up on here and the ao3 subreddit and I just want to say, for the record: No one's saying you can't criticize (fanfic) authors publicly. They're saying it's rude and antithetical to positive fandom experience. And, yes there's a difference.

If this website was a conference and I had just spent a whole afternoon listening to a presentation on [unpopular fic trope] and after that was done, I got up on stage and very publicly told the audience that [unpopular fic trope] was illogical and anyone who writes it is woefully misinformed and should be banned from writing [relevant character], that would in fact be a dick move.

"But the canon character would never--" it doesn't matter. You're shouting down the hall at the person who just happily did a whole seminar on their OOC version of that character. "But I don't like that the author chose to make them--" good, you're well-acquainted with your likes and dislikes, time to find another fic.

We all run into fics and interpretations we don't like. But there's a huge difference between loudly talking about it on Tumblr where the author can see it, and just venting in a private discord or other group. Also, gentle reminder that this is a hobby for most writers and something they do purely because they enjoy it. Stop being massive dicks just because you feel entitled to a certain flavor of fanfiction you will probably be chasing until the Reformation of Krypton.