#aao3

[confundida25]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pokemon Legends: Arceus (Video Game) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kai | Irida/Seki | Adaman Characters: Kai | Irida, Seki | Adaman, diamond wardens, o.c. - Character Additional Tags: Mutual Pinning, clanleadership, idiots to lovers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, the OC is not important, Post-Game, No Beta Summary:

Adaman is sure that his relationship with Irida is completely platonic, but when someone else shows interest in her and she give him a chance, Adaman is forced to face the truth. Is it possible that he is in love with her? Will it be too late to confess his feelings?

#clanleadershipping #adaman #iirida #adaman x irida #pokemon #pla #fanfiction #aao3

[reiraseju]

Chapters: 19/22 Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender, Tyzula - Fandom, azula - Fandom Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Azula/Ty Lee (Avatar) Characters: Azula (Avatar), Ty Lee (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar), Mai (Avatar), Ty Lee's Sisters (Avatar), The Gaang (Avatar), Ozai (Avatar), Ursa (Avatar) Additional Tags: tyzula - Freeform, Lesbian Azula (Avatar), Lesbian Ty Lee (Avatar), Protective Azula (Avatar), Happy Azula (Avatar), Crazy Azula (Avatar), POV Azula (Avatar), Child Azula (Avatar), Firelord Azula (Avatar), Bisexual Ty Lee (Avatar), Airbender Ty Lee (Avatar), Minor Azula/Ty Lee (Avatar), Pansexual Ty Lee (Avatar), Tyzula Week 2020 (Avatar), Tyzula Week (Avatar), Fire Nation Royal Family, Fire Nation (Avatar), Yuri, Girls Kissing, girlslove, girlxgirl, Best Friends, Friends to Lovers, Bad Parent Ozai (Avatar), Mentioned Ursa (Avatar), Sex, Lesbian Sex, Eventual Smut, Healing, Healing Sex, Redemption Summary:

𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞 火 𝐓𝐲𝐳𝐮𝐥𝐚 - 𝑃𝑠𝑦𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝐷𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑎, 𝑅𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝐸𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑐 - ❤️🔥

Azula and Ty lee had been best friends since they were kids, but after they graduated from the Royal Fire Academy for Girls, Ty Lee left the Fire Nation capital to join the circus and they stopped seeing each other for years. It wasn't until Azula paid her a visit one day, asking her to join her elite team with the objective of capturing the Avatar. So many years had passed that maybe they had forgotten how deep their connection really was...

A story of love and healing.

+18

#azula #ty lee #tyzula #grey delisle #olivia hack #yuri #gl #girls love #zuko #mai #ursa #ozai #avatar #the last airbende #atlantic canada #fanfic #fanfiction #aao3 #kudos #bd/sm community #x reader #reads #thursday #aang #katara #zutara

[lintillathearchaeologist]

Oh strange random readers on my stories, where on earth are you coming from? The read count clicks up and up, along with anonymous bookmarks and subscriptions, and yet the kudos is static and you never speak. It's certainly appreciated, but as my tagging is crap and I haven't posted on my main story in days I can't work out how the hell you're finding it.

#fanfiction #writing #aao3

[phantom-does-a-thing]

Hi I'm Phantom

I go by any pronouns (including Neopronouns).

I'm a writer and most of my writing will be under #my writing or #phantom does a thing. Here's a link to my Ao3 which is my pride and joy.

Any writing advice/prompts will go here @lettherebewrit3 go give it a follow I never advertise sideblogs

My current interests: JRWI (mostly PD and BITB), fnaf (ask me about it I dare you), probably other horror games (I really really like horror) and probably other things.

Listen to my Ghost Playlist!!

I'll mostly be posting about jrwi tho since I don't really post about other things but yeah so that's all you need to know.

If you wanna know anything else my ask box is always open and I love talking to people. Feel free to DM me like ever I am awkward but I love talking w people.

A bunch of tags I've linked for ease of search :3

My favorites tag

My writing tag

Kitty Tag and Puppy tag

stimboard tag and my stimboards

@strawberri-syrup <- my biggest fan and also I need a quick link to his blog

#pinned post #about me #I decided I should probably make an actual pinned post #I hate talking about myself I dont know what my interest are or anything #all you need to know about my is my aao3 #because thats all I care about #I like writing and writing fanfiction and thats like my entire personality #whatver #dont rb #I dont know why you would but im lazy and am not gonna turn reblogs off #rambling #phever dreams with phantom

[tennessoui]

Hey Kit, first of all I hope you’re having a great day!! Second, this is a long damn shot but you are one of the most prolific and connected Obikin writers out there so.

Back when I first started getting into Obikin, I read a song prompt one-shot/ficlet on tumblr. The song was Dark Horse by Amanda Mitchell and I have been thinking about that ficlet without being able to find it ever since. Did you write it, or remember it?

i am so sorry i do not know this!!!

would any of my followers perhaps?

#asks #fic searching #ive never written a song fic before!!! #but i also love the title prolific obikin writer i suppose i really am lol #probably a million words if we count aao3 + tumblr ficlets #did 50k alone for the 4 word prompt thing oof

[jjeremysstash]

Ok

Let's say I'll do a video series on how to use AO3 from the very beginning of creating an account to how to add addons on firefox to make your experience nicer while going through the how to tag and how to post works parts.

It would mean that:

I need people to send me questions/think they wish they knew when starting so I'm sure I'll talk about everything and not just stuff I do/use

I'll need the screenshots (or screen recording if you're able to censor your personal information on videos) of when you create your account after having received the invitation in order to help people through the process

I'll put myself on fucking blast bc obviously I'll need to show you stuff and the easiest is to use my account and works BUT

If you know (or made/make/are currently making) works that use work skins, are podfics/fan videos/comics, special coding like a "make your own adventure" type of work, etc etc (whatever is not basic plain fanfiction): share them with me, like that I'll have examples

You also need to know that every questions you have, any details you need about something is most likely already answered on AO3. So technically this series will be redondant, so I'll really just be doing it for people who struggle with reading English, have reading comprehension difficulties and/or learn more visually.

Also, I'm saying that now, but I won't be able to start working on it before the 25th of April. I'll also most likely record all the episodes in a row, hence why I need the questions before starting, and I'll record on my laptop, so it will be the PC version (I'll show the phone version from time to time, dw).

For sending me the questions, go to @ao3-helper (I however won't post anything nor answer until the 25th of April for university reasons).

#AO3 #AO3 Tuto #AO3 tutorial #aao3-helper is supposed to have a pfp but it doesn't want to appear on laptop? #like on my phone it's fine and all but laptop still has the default pfp?

[longitudinalwaveme]

The Flash Rogues/Hunger Games Crossover That No One Knew They Wanted!

In a fit of insanity, I have decided to write a Hunger Games fanfiction that features the Flash characters as if they were a part of the Hunger Games universe.

Here are the characters who are going to appear in this bizarro version of the 56th Annual Hunger Games. Flash characters will be italicized

Capitol Residents 

President Coriolanus Snow (obviously) 

Caesar Flickerman (again, this is a given) 

Paul Gambi: District 6 Stylist. (He's the Rogues' tailor in the Flash comics, after all.)

Dexter Miles: District 6 Escort. (This somehow seemed appropriate.)

District 1 Residents 

Osgood Rathaway: Mayor of District 1 

Rachel Rathaway: Osgood’s wife 

Hartley Rathaway: Male Tribute, age 12. Osgood and Rachel’s son. 

Sapphire Steele: Female Tribute, age 18 (Volunteer) 

District 2 Residents 

Aurelius Stone: Male Tribute, age 18 (Volunteer) 

Claudia Remington: Female Tribute, age 18 (Volunteer) 

District 3 Residents 

Giovanni Giuseppi: Male Tribute, age 13. 

Mindy Hong: Female Tribute, age 13. 

District 4 Residents 

Mags Flanagan: Winner of the 11th Hunger Games, mentor to Digger.

George “Digger” Harkness: Male Tribute, age 16 (Volunteer) 

Azure O’Rourke: Female Tribute, age 17 (Volunteer)

District 5 Residents Roscoe Dillon: Male Tribute, age 15. 

Mayella Day: Female Tribute, age 17. 

District 6 Residents 

Fred Chyre: Mayor of District 6

Larry Snart: Former Peacekeeper. Father to Len and Lisa. 

Jay Garrick: Victor of the 15th Hunger Games; only living victor from District 6. Mentor to Len and Lisa. 

Leonard Snart: Male Tribute, age 17 (Volunteer). Narrates half the story.

Lisa Snart: Female Tribute, age 12. Narrates the other half of the story.

Roy Bivolo: Age 12. Reaped for the Games; Len takes his place when he volunteers. 

District 7 Residents 

Pine Rookwood: Male Tribute, age 16. 

Sierra Fox: Female Tribute, age 17.

District 8 Residents 

Richard Swift: Victor of the 17th annual Hunger Games. Mentor to Sam Scudder.

Sam Scudder: Male Tribute, age 15. 

Martha Scudder: Sam’s mom. (This one is a Flash OC.)

Bobbi Weaver: Female Tribute, age 16. 

District 9 Residents 

Marco Mardon: Male Tribute, age 16. (Volunteer) 

Claudio Mardon: Marco’s older brother, age 17. Reaped for the Games; Marco takes his place when he volunteers. 

Isabela Daniels: Female Tribute, age 15. 

District 10 Residents 

Mick Rory: Male Tribute, age 18. 

Iris West: Female Tribute, age 17. 

Barry Allen: Iris' boyfriend, age 17.

District 11 Residents 

Jennifer Conners: Female Tribute, age 15. (Another Flash OC of mine.)

Thomas Henry: Male Tribute, age 17. 

District 12 Residents 

Albert Desmond: Male Tribute, age 17. 

Rita Jones: Albert’s girlfriend, age 17. 

Lilybet Thompson: Female Tribute, age 14.

The first chapter of the story, Cold Fire, has been posted on AAO3 if you're interested.

#flash rogues #flash comics #hunger games #fanfiction #crossover #captain cold #golden glider #weather wizard #mirror master #sam scudder #heat wave #hartley rathaway #james jesse #the trickster #iris west #albert desmond #rita desmond #mindy hong #barry allen #fred chyre #dexter myles #clyde mardon #coriolanus snow #caesar flickerman #mags

[lady-necropolis]

Once again I have crawled out of my chronic pain cave to deliver you a short Christmassy, fluffy and smutty Mary Goore fic that nobody asked for. aAo3 here 18+ under the cut.

“It’s not going to fit, Mary! It’s too tall.”

“Ye of little faith!” Mary shouted, wielding a rusty handsaw he got from who knows where. “Just need to trim the stump off a bit babe, that’s all.” You quirked a skeptical brow their way as you opened the trunk of ornaments, keeping a close eye on Mary in the event you’d need to swoop in after he sawed off a few fingers. You’d rather avoid a visit to the er tonight. But in spite of the looming danger of your partner and a sharp blade, you’re finding the evening quite cozy. The light was low in your living room, the haze of snow passing over the streetlamps outside making everything softer, and rather contrarian to the ratty Santa hat that had definitely seen better days atop Mary’s head, there was metal music playing softly in the background.

It was something you never expected. But Mary Goore loved Christmas. Absolutely adored it in fact. And they had come barrelling into your tiny one-bedroom flat after a shift at the bar, hauling a massive spruce tree over their shoulder, grunting and wheezing. And no matter what he said, that tree wasn’t going to fit. It was at least nine feet tall. Mary fitted the stand onto the trimmed stump and began pushing the tree upright.

“Careful,”

“It’s fine, Doll,” Mary wheezed, shooting you a crooked smile. “See, just needed a trim.” You cringed as you looked up. The top of the tree was practically bent in half against the ceiling.

“Riiiight. I think it might need a full haircut then.” Mary furrowed their brow in question and following your line of sight, looked up to the top of the tree.

“Jesus Fuck!”

“Told you it wouldn’t fit,” you muttered under your breath, pulling out the boxes of string lights from the trunk and humming softly. You smiled to yourself as Mary grumbled and groaned, staring up at the top of the tree all sour-faced.

“What if I took off another inch?”

“You can’t,” you replied matter-of-factly. “Not from the stump at least. You won’t be able to get it in the stand.” Your partner deflated, shoulders sagging, and head hung low. And you couldn’t help but giggle. It was the beat-up Santa hat; it just added perfectly to the melancholy of the whole scene. Mary shot you a scowl as he stomped off to grab a foot stool and climb up to the top of the tree.

“Stupid, fuckin’ ceiling,” he muttered, sawing off a good foot from the top. You winced a little, watching as Mary’s teeth clenched in annoyance. “How does it look now?” The honest answer was that it looked like a big ol’ rectangle, taking up a solid quarter of the living room, but you just canted your head side to side and nodded.

“Well, we’ll be able to get the star on top now,” you offered, wrapping your arms around their waist and resting your chin on their shoulder as they hopped off the stool and cursed under their breath. “It’ll be okay Mare, once we get the ornaments and lights on.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, running a hand over his head and knocking the ratty hat off.

“Come on Goore, the tree’s not gonna decorate itself!” Mary grumbled an unintelligible response. “Good!” you kissed his cheek and skipped over to the trunk, unravelling the string lights. If Mary was going to be a bitter lemon the rest of the night you would have to lay the Christmas spirit on thick. “I’ll get the lights set up, why don’t you unbox the ornaments?” You heard a hefty and disgruntled sigh over your shoulder as Mary sulked over to the trunk.

“Sure, Doll.” You rolled your eyes. Sure, the tree looked a right mess, but when did it ever look perfect? At least this year Mary picked one that hadn’t fallen apart when they unfurled it. Really, it wasn’t that bad… You might run out of ornaments though.

You start weaving the lights into the prickly branches. You’d both found out in your first year living together that this was something only you should do, and that Mary ought to stay far away from; you smirk thinking about the tangled mess he’d created and how long it had taken you to unravel the lights. You work quietly for a little while and slowly you can hear Mary perking back up, humming to the background music as he unpacked the trunk and unwrapped some of the fancier ornaments the two of you have collected over the years. And then silence. The rustling of packing paper quiets and all that is left is the white noise of whatever band Mary put on. You think nothing of it but just as you bend down to plug the lights into the outlet you feel a pair of warm hands snake around your hips, and Mary pressing himself into your backside. You huff and bite your lip. Of course.

“Mare, you wanna start decorating?” You feel more than hear Mary hum against you as you straighten up, their hands roaming up to your waist, as they pull you flush against them.

“Orrrr, maybe not? I think there might be something I wanna do more right now?” Your roll your eyes.

“Nuh-uh Goore!” You tease, turning to shove him gently away. “You brought the tree home, you gotta decorate it.” Mary shoots you a toothy grin.

“All work and no play? Where’s your Christmas spirit babe?” He growls, sauntering over to you once more and you giggle as he pulls you against him and nibbles at your ear.

“Maryyyy,” you whine as Mary plants sloppy kisses down the column of your neck. “I’m serious, okay? Let’s finish decorating the tree. I don’t want this stuff to end up lying around.” Mary rolls their eyes, but they soften slightly as he looks down at you, and with a resigned huff, he presses his lips to yours in a chaste kiss,

“Alright Doll,” he murmurs, and for a split second you regret your decision as you watch Mary amble over to the ornaments laid out on the sofa, but no, if you don’t get this done tonight there is a high chance they sit there for another week. And you rather like having couch space. You take your Sunday afternoon naps there, after all. You follow them over to the couch and Mary hands you your favourite ornament. It’s the oldest of the bunch, given to you by your grandmother. It was made of colourful glass, rich purples, blues, and pinks, the front hollow, caving in to reveal a sparkling jagged silver that always caught the light perfectly. “Prettiest bulb for the prettiest girl,” Mary winks, and you roll your eyes, but you’re unable to fight the stupid grin that creeps up on your face and the butterflies fluttering in your gut. Years of dating and Mary still has you acting a fool.

You both fall into a quiet rhythm, working steadily to fill the tree. Occasionally, Mary steps back to point out any gaps where you need an ornament, or asks for your opinion on the tinsel situation. It’s always too much tinsel and you tell Mary to ease up a little. But all throughout their hands are on yours. Fingers lingering as they hand you ornaments, gently caressing your waist as they walk around you; and by the time you finish decorating you’re properly worked up and itching for them. Mary comes to stand behind you as you press the switch to turn on the lights, arms wrapping tightly around you and chin resting atop your head, both admiring your work.

“Not bad, babe,” Mary croons, kissing the crown of your head. And all things considered, it really isn’t that bad. It’s quite pretty actually. The glass bulbs reflect the twinkling lights, enveloping your tiny sitting room in a cozy, warm glow. You sigh softly, leaning back and pressing into Mary’s firm chest.

“It’s pretty.” He hums into your hair and you tilt your head back to look at him. “Hey,” you whisper.

“Hey to you too.” It’s silly but it still earns them a stupid grin. You twist around and wrap your arms around their neck. Mary quirks a brow at you but he has a shit eating grin planted on his lips and his eyes are glittering with lust. They  knew exactly what they were doing. And you couldn’t care less.

“Merry Christmas, Mary.” Mary’s eyes soften and he runs circles into your hip with his thumb.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” he replies, and you get up on your tiptoes to give him a languid kiss. Mary returns it eagerly, their tongue running over your lower lip, slipping inside to explore your mouth. You sigh softly into the kiss and press yourself flush against them in hunger.

“Mary,” you keen, hardly audible in the quiet room, the record long having stopped.

“Yes?” He teases, kissing along your jaw, down your neck; you tilt your head back to give him more access to the column of your throat, and Mary does not disappoint, nibbling on your sensitive flesh, making you shiver in delight as a delicious heat pools in your gut. You let out a throaty moan as Mary sinks their teeth into the crook of your neck, not hard enough to draw blood, but it will certainly leave a mark.

“Please Mary” you moan. One arm holds you flush against them while the other roams down your hips, squeezes your backside, and comes round to the front, fingers slipping under the waistband of your pajama bottoms, teasing at the edge of your panties.

“What’s that? I think you need to be more specific, Doll.” Another nip to your throat. You’re practically canting your hips into their fingers now, how could you even be more obvious?

“Fuck me, Mary,” you sigh as Mary laps at the mark. And finally they acquiesce, fingers slipping into your underwear to run up and down your slit, spreading your slick over your swollen clit. You shiver and groan as Mary works you with slow tight circles, deft fingers pushing you closer to the edge with every swipe. You’ve been so worked up for the past half hour or so that it doesn’t take very long for Mary to have you dangling over the precipice, legs shaking from keeping yourself standing, panting with pleasure. Just as you feel yourself about to tumble over the crest, he pulls away, widening his circles or slipping a finger inside. You clench around their fingers hungrily, groaning in a mix of frustration and pleasure as they lick a stripe up the column of your throat to nibble at the sensitive flesh behind your ear. You whine in desperation as Mary pulls their fingers out of you.

“So fucking needy,” he hisses into your ear. “You want me so bad, don’t you baby?”

“Please Mary,” you keen again as he circles your clit, this time in earnest. The arm holding you against him tightens around your waist and finally Mary lets you cum, toes curling and legs going limp as you moan into the crook of their neck. Your head is swimming, limbs limp, completely malleable, and Mary tugs your pajama pants and underwear down in one, guiding you gently down to your knees. You shiver from the aftershocks and the cold of the floor beneath you as you tilt your hips back, resting on your forearms. You hear the distinct clanking of metal as Mary undoes their belt, and soon enough their hands are gripping onto your hips, digging into your supple flesh to pull you flush against him as he pushes himself inside of you in one steady thrust. Your breath punches out in a harsh puff as Mary sets a brutal pace, and throughout the room, all you can hear is flesh slapping against flesh, your desperate and delighted moans and their groans of pleasure. Your head is buzzing; Mary slams into your sweet spot with nearly every thrust, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body and you can’t help but cry out.

“Mary!” Mary’s breath comes in erratic bursts and you can hear him babbling incoherently, his thrusts becoming unsteady, faster.

“Fuck, baby,” They hiss into your ear, leaning over you. “You’re so fucking good. Sooo good.” Your arms shake from their shift in weight and with his final thrusts you collapse underneath him, clenching around them as they kick inside you, your cheek pressed against the floor and Mary slumped over top of you, restless hands roaming over your hips, your waist, down your arms. “Fuuuuck,” Mary groans as he collapses next to you on the floor. You lie there quietly, shivering with sweat-slicked skin as you both catch your breath.

You come down from your high first and before exhaustion kicks in you prop yourself up on your elbow and yank down your fuzzy throw on the couch, throwing it over yourself and Mary. Mary sighs, running a hand over his face and opening his arms in invitation. You smile softly and settle back down, tucking yourself into the crook of their arm, head resting on their chest as they rub soothing circles into your shoulder. You look up to Mary’s face, grinning at him, a warm fuzzy feeling filling your lungs. His green eyes shimmer with flecks of gold in the twinkling lights of the tree, and you bask in the warm glow, the fresh smell of spruce grounding you.

“While this is all very romantic,” you groan, shifting uncomfortably as your hip bone digs into the hardwood floor, “how’s about we at least crawl up on the couch?”

“Mmm,” Mary grumbles, burying their face into your hair.

“Mary..”

“Fiiiine,” they groan, and with an over-exaggerated grunt, Mary hoists himself up, offering his hands to help you up. You accept them gracefully, and you both stumble over to the sofa with the blanket. You sink down into the lumpy couch with a sigh, curling yourself up against Mary, finding a comfy home in the circle of their arms.

“I love you, Mary,” you murmur, pressing a gentle kiss to their cheek, and Mary smiles lazily at you, arm squeezing you a bit tighter as he kisses your hairline.

“Love you too, babe."

#mary goore #mary goore x reader

[redlektor]

Hellfire

Summary: The first time you formally meet Silas McCall, your husband has brought you to his boss to show you off like the object he treats you as. You knew the name, of course, having lived just outside town all your life, but somehow you hadn’t expected the dirty, grizzled brute of a cowboy standing in front of you to be the man who unofficially runs it.

A/N: I could say that he was an intriguing character that was underutilized in the episode, which wouldn’t be a lie, but I also wanted this big dirty cowboy to absolutely wreck me. 

Also this is all @curbitkirby‘s fault. Go check out their stuff, it’s lovely. 

18+ only

On AAO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/40871202 or

Down in the forest With the devil in me I remember the looks on their faces Through the sycamore trees Ain't no chariots of fire Come to take me home I'm lost in the woods And I wander alone

Hellfire, hellfire Take my soul I'm waiting, waiting I'm ready to go Mothers, children Lock your doors I'm waiting I'm ready to go ~Barns Courtney, Hellfire

“Just like that, darlin’, bein’ such a good girl for me,” the big man under you--not your husband--croons as you rock your hips against the thick fingers buried in your cunt--

Until Silas, your only experience with sex was your wedding night and the few times your husband has touched you since, merely lackluster efforts to get you with child--perfunctory and painful, hardly an introduction that would predispose you to want to explore it further, yet here you are. Your intended had told you bluntly up front that he’d not be curtailing his drinking or whoring for your sake.  No affection lost on either side there. Your husband had wanted the barren land of your family’s homestead, and you’d come with it. His desire for the patch of dirt which had failed to grow anything of substance for as long as you’d been alive puzzled you until a bunch of men arrived a few days after your wedding with strange machines. Black gold, your husband had called it with a condescending laugh when you asked. Your papa hadn’t stuck around to see it, running off with the substantial money he’d gotten in exchange for you and the land--enough to drink himself to death--and evidently never looking back. 

The first time you formally meet Silas McCall, your husband has brought you to his boss to show you off like the object he treats you as. You knew the name, of course, having lived just outside town all your life, but somehow you hadn’t expected the dirty, grizzled brute of a cowboy standing in front of you to be the man who unofficially runs it. He has to wipe the blood off his hands from the pig he’d been butchering to shake yours; he holds on a little too long, your hand swallowed up by his massive paw. He doesn’t even hide the way his lecherous gaze caresses you, heated and heavy, almost as substantial as a touch, sending a hot flush down your body. Growing up, you’d resented the way your parents--mainly your mother but your father too before she died and he stopped caring about anything other than where his next drink was coming from--sheltered you, forbade you from going to town without an escort. Looking up into dark eyes promising sin and sweet corruption, you wonder if they hadn’t been right in their fears after all. 

--his hands are larger and more calloused than your husband’s, but he cradles your bared breasts gently, thumbs teasing your nipples until you’re begging for more--

The first time you speak with Silas without your husband present, you encounter him--or, judging by all that follows later, he finds you--at the general store on a shopping trip. After purchasing the pantry staples you’d come in for and arranging for the heavier items to be delivered directly to your house, you’d been gazing longingly at the single copy of ‘The Origin of Species’ mixed among the more popular books on offer despite knowing full well you could never buy it. As little as your husband cared for you, he adored his money, and would know if even a few cents went astray for such frivolous purposes. You loved learning despite your truncated formal education, and for all his flaws, your father had let you indulge in such purchases when you could afford to. Those days are gone, however. 

A shadow falls over you, casting the books on the table in front of you in darkness. A deep, voice--gruff but not unfriendly--makes you turn toward it. “Hey darlin’.”

“Mr. McCall, good afternoon,” you manage to reply, trying not to blush with the way he looks at you with badly concealed hunger, not as lewd as men catcalling girls at the saloon but more substantial somehow. 

“Call me Silas, dear, we’re practically family,” he purrs, leaning casually into your space. The spice of his cologne is undercut by sweat and the scent of horses, but you can’t say the combination is unpleasant. 

You aren’t family, far from it, and decorum proscribes your doing such, but denying such a man as this would have more dire consequences than a breach in good manners. You glance at the shopkeep behind the counter, pointedly not paying the two of you any attention, then back to the tall man looming over you.

“Mr. Silas,” you compromise, trying to cling to formality. 

His eyes flash nevertheless, appearing to savor his name on your lips despite the title preceding it. He nods toward the book open in front of you. “Heavy subject matter for a pretty girl like you.”

“I can read it just fine, thank you very much.” You bristle despite yourself, but he seems to like it judging by his broadening grin. The shopkeep, on the other hand, shrinks further away from the pair of you, disappearing into the back room with haste, probably trying to avoid being witness to the murder you’re setting yourself up for by wilfully provoking the most powerful man in town. 

He raises his hands in mock surrender, chuckling. “Just surprised, is all. Didn’t mean any offense. Aren’t you gonna get it?”

“I--already purchased what I came for,” you stammer, bravado abandoning you. 

A thick eyebrow cocks above eyes alight with knowing mischief. “Surely your husband wouldn’t begrudge you gettin’ something you like. I know I pay him enough to afford it.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to be going,” you stutter, trying to extricate yourself from worsening a situation you couldn’t possibly come out of unscathed. “Good day, sir.”

To your relief, he lets you go, tipping his hat to you, but the heat in the stare following your retreat isn’t gentlemanly at all. Three days later, when your husband is away on business, a courier delivers a box full of the latest scientific publications in a variety of fields, including a pristine first edition of the tome you’d been ogling in the store. There’s no note, but you know exactly who sent it regardless. 

--he has you spread out on the kitchen table like a feast, hot mouth devouring your pussy like it’s the last meal he’s ever going to get. You chant his name like a profane prayer, fingers buried in his hair, locks greasy from his pomade but still dark and thick despite the age evident in the gray of his beard--

The first time he calls on you, it seems a coincidence that your husband is absent. His shirt is clean and he’s shaved, though the dust from his ride still clings to his black boots. He accepts your hospitable offer of tea, and you feel obliged to keep him company in the sitting room in spite of how nervous he makes you. The two of you talk for far longer than one does while waiting for someone else to get home. He asks you more questions about yourself, your family than anyone aside from your school friends have ever bothered to before, putting you at ease despite yourself. When the topic drifts to the books he’d bought you, he seems genuinely interested in your interpretation of their subject matter, and proves more knowledgeable than you’d expect from a man of his rough and violent nature. By the time he takes his leave, hours have passed with no sign of your husband. When he kisses you on the cheek, his lips linger, and you find yourself touching that spot long after he’s mounted his horse and ridden away. It tingles as if branded. 

You find out he doesn’t frequent the brothels the same way your husband and his other men do. Perhaps it was because his estranged daughter works them, a fact you learned after making some discreet inquiries about town. These seeming contradictions intrigue you despite your better sense. 

--he draws you back into his lap, praising you as he cajoles you into freeing his prick from his trousers, the thick shaft filling your grip a contrast of silky skin over iron--

The first time you end up in his lap, your head feels like it’s floating and your belly is warm from the whiskey he brought. Your husband never lets you drink, so it didn’t take much to hit you. The heat in your stomach is stoked to an inferno when his big hand wanders beneath your skirts, between your legs, rough whiskers tickling your neck as he nuzzles into it. The men who work your land to extract the precious black fluid buried far beneath it avert their eyes when he chooses to press you into the door jamb for a prolonged goodbye kiss before leaving; they harbor far more loyalty and fear toward him than your husband, anyway. 

--the chair creaks, mixing with the filthy sounds of your joining as he bounces you effortlessly on his cock. “Love your tight little pussy,” he groans, and you tug his mouth to yours, unable to form a reply--

Your husband pays you so little attention that you didn’t think it would even cross his mind that you’d take a lover, much less that he’d be cuckolded by his much older employer, but the night the brash fool quarrels with Silas, you think you’ve been found out. As you eavesdrop, you agonize over the possibility until your husband--getting louder and louder in his pigheaded fury, whereas his boss maintains a quiet and infinitely more dangerous calm--reveals the subject of the argument to be oil money instead. When Silas leaves, however, he looks up to the window over the front door you peer out of. He can’t possibly see you there sitting in the darkened room, but you could swear his eyes meet yours through the dirty windowpane. 

--he feels so good inside you, you’d never understood before why women would choose to go through the pain of childbirth even once, much less several times, but it’s almost too much--

You can’t exactly call his cock buried in you an accident--it would strain credulity to claim something that long and thick could get anywhere without significant, deliberate effort--but you hadn’t planned on it happening when you woke up this morning. It takes embarrassingly little effort on his part to coax you into it, the logical culmination of a long, careful journey of corruption that had started the day he first touched you. Silas was much better endowed than your husband, but the burning stretch feels good somehow. He’d also made you wetter than you thought possible, took his time to get you that way using his fingers and mouth in a manner thoroughly indecent that left scratches from his beard on your thighs. 

Silas pistons up into you, hitting something so deep inside it hurts but has you shattering, white lightning burning through you in agonal bliss. 

Mewling, you slump against his soft chest and large belly, able to do little but take what he gives you. When he finally spills inside you--swearing in a filthy litany of expletives and praises interspersed with your name--you almost feel relief until you realize what time of the month it is. 

Your husband hasn’t touched you in almost half a year. 

You start to panic, breath growing rapid and shallow.

“Darlin’, you’re gonna look so good with your belly all big and swoll up with my child,” he murmurs proudly, palm laid on your stomach as if he could tell his seed was already taking root. But then he sees your distress, cupping your cheek with his other hand and bringing your gaze up to meet his. “Hey, shh pretty girl. You don’t have to worry about him finding out.” 

His eyes are darkly possessive, a fire burning in them worthy of the Devil himself. You shiver, out of fear, anticipation or some nebulous combination thereof, and Silas grunts, his cock twitching in your cunt, grinding himself up into your bruised, overstuffed sex as if sealing a bargain you hadn’t been aware you were making. Long arms bring you closer, locking you in place on his lap, his voice a deep growl in your ear, “You don’t have to worry about him ever again.”

#alfred molina #silas mccall #roar #my fic #tw: pregnancy #nsft #tw: infidelity

[dirtbag-linecook-kyloren]

Flight 1549 au has a name

Coming in the next few weeks to an AAO3 near you is A Love Letter to Airports (and the Tale of Two Cities), wherein hux is but a humble Air traffic controller and Ben solo is a commercial airline pilot

Only difference is I’m having them land in the Missouri at st. Charles rather than LaGuardia bc I don’t know shit about New York, but I grew up in STL and those distances from airport to crash site are the same so if you’ve ever wanted a fic that includes copious references to what it’s like in St. Louis and charlotte with experience then HO BOY am I excited for you

We’re at 7k and I’m probably 20% done with writing but all I have is scrivener on my phone so it’s hard to tell. If it weren’t for my Bluetooth keyboard my thumbs would be dead

I’m listening to so much ATC traffic to write this fic it’s insane I’ve read so many articles about preflight checks

Still not ready to post about this fic in the ship tag tho because I want it to just

All go up like a fuckin midnight release

[drempen]

Hi, your Mini Khonshu sketches are adorable! I'm the strange person who writes the Mini Khonshu stuff of AAO3 - I'd love to list your art as an inspiration. Would you mind?

Ty so much 😭 and please go ahead I don't mind at all. If you'd be willing to share links to your work I'd be down to read them aswell

#mini khonshu #moon knight #ask

[dwritesstuff]

I’m so sad. I take a peek on AAo3 and some of my faves have hidden their work. I’ve gone to their blogs and I get it but how will I read my comfort fics. Damn it. Now I’m leery to finish my WiPs and I just thought about doing a fic adapting the movie Charade. If that’s not a Fexi workable plot I don’t know what is. Fandoms are such wild things.

#fez x lexi #fexi #lexi x fezco #fanfic

[lintillathearchaeologist]

No idea how to go about this Tumblr posts lark - but I need to stop writing bloody blog posts every time I post a chapter on AAO3 and this seems to be the place to do that :)

So anyhow, if you've found me here from there, hello - here's the random waffle I didn't post with the last chapter of The Hair War:

I'd like you all to meet my writing buddy, Khonshu.

Khonshu is a permanently angry little shit.

He hangs out in my garden and shouts at me if I do unreasonable things like open windows, or, god forbid, go outside.

His favourite place to sit is just outside the room I use as an office for work. I like to have the window open. Khonshu does not like me having the window open as it interferes with his favourite flight path from the hedge to the roof. So he yells at me from the hedge while I try to work.

And he hates crows. Like, really, really hates crows. They don't seem terribly keen on him either. So they spend all day screaming the bird equivalent of "fuck you, dickhead" at each other.

Occasionally he gets into fights with the crows which are so damned noisy I have to run outside waving a teatowel to break it up.

The only time there's a truce is when a seagull dares to come within 50 yards. Then it really gets heated.

Yeah, so that's Khonshu, the belligerent little arse. I think he's definitely earned the name.

#no clue how to tag this #what am i even doing here? #fanfic #writing buddies #khonshu #The Hair War random bloggy thoughts

[notacyborg]

lol antis left a sting of comments on my Scream fic on aAO3… bitches it horror. Like slow your roll, it’s also tagged and labeled to high hell.

[velevetyy]

blorb

im stupid idk how to use tumblr i just hate pinterest and twitter that much id rather be here umms mn i have discord and an ao3 under my name if u have an aao3 acc u can see my fics its just ame chan bein like khnhsbjsksjlljf

#deez nuts

[citrinediamondeyes]

My Fics

Hey y'all. I realize I haven't updated my tumblr with my fanfics in a while, so here is a master post of all my stories. They are listed newest/most recently updated first, with the major ship (if any) and rating in parentheses. I'll do my best to post and edit this master post when my chapter fics are updated or when I create a new story.

LEGEND OF ZELDA FICS:

Read Aloud (Zelink, M)

Gardens of Babylon (Zelink, T)

The Price We Pay (Zelink, G)

Mercury (Zelink, G)

SPYxFAMILY FICS:

Compromised (No pairing, G)

FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST FICS:

Bruise (Royai, T)

MIRACULOUS LADYBUG FICS:

Butter Pecan (Ladynoir, T)

Introspection (Ladynoir, T)

HOWL'S MOVING CASTLE FICS:

The Beginning of Happily Ever After (Sophie x Howl, T)

HARRY POTTER CHAPTER FICS:

Peach Blossoms (Scorose, M)

BNHA CHAPTER FICS:

We're Coming Apart (and Falling Together) (Izuocha, E - multiple authors)

Timeless (Izuocha, E - on hiatus)

Folklore (Izuocha, T - on hiatus)

Beautiful Mess (Izuocha, M - on hiatus)

The Tales of the Electricity Alchemist (Izuocha, T - on hiatus)

BNHA ONE-SHOTS:

Being in Love is Totally Punk Rock (Kamijirou, T)

Broken (Gen, G)

Saturn (Izuocha, G)

Venus (Izuocha, G)

Kiss From A Rose (Izuocha, E)

Highs and Lows (Izuocha, T)

Burning (Izuocha, G)

PB & Bananas For You (Izuocha, T)

Bitterness (Izuocha, G)

Beloved (Bakuneta, T)

I'll Keep You Safe (Izuocha, M)

Electric Feel (Kamijirou, T)

Bubbly (Izuocha, G)

Countdown (Izuocha, G)

Stay With Me (Izuocha, T)

Imagine (Izuocha, M)

Talk to Me (Izuocha, T)

Wet Paint (Izuocha, G)

Heart on Fire (Izuocha, T)

#izuocha #bakuneta #kamijirou #my fics #fanfic #aao3 #my hero academia #mha #bnha #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic #masterlist #citrinediamondeyes #harry potter #scorose #howl's moving castle #sophie x howl #legend of zelda #zelink #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fmab #royai #royai fic #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #ladynoir #spy x family #loz fanfic #fmab fanfiction