#this was mortifying to write

[raindduks]

earned it

p a i r i n g :: toji x reader

g e n r e :: smut, pwp, afab reader

w a r n i n g s :: slight primal play, slight dub-con, being robbed, mentions of gun violence, minimal police, toji likes to bite

s u m m a r y :: It was supposed to be a normal day. A normal day, with a normal, boring trip to the bank.

How the hell did you end up in the back of a bank robbers car with his head between your thighs?

w o r d  c o u n t :: 5.2k

a / n :: cross posted on ao3, ive never written smut before so please go easy on me. if you've seen a fic similar to this, a friend and i used the same idea to create two fics (tho i think hers is only on ao3).

m i n o r s d n i

Today wasn’t supposed to go like this. 

You were just supposed to grab some money from the bank to pay a couple bills, head home, maybe grab yourself an iced coffee on the way back. Work a bit. Shower? Hell, maybe you’d finally open that nice bottle of Pinot Noir you got for your birthday. 

“Don’t look so scared, sweetheart.” 

The cold tip of a gun presses harder against your ribcage, its owner leaning over you in such a fashion to hide it. His arm drapes over your shoulder, whispers falling in hot breaths on your ear. The pair of you take a step forward. The teller is focused on another customer currently; you don’t think she’s noticed your predicament quite yet.  

“You gotta look at least somewhat happy about this, or else the teller won’t cough up the cash.” He leans in further, squeezing you to his side. “If that happens, well.. You certainly won’t be leaving here alive.”

Deep breaths. Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, threatening to destroy this whole charade in an instant. You don’t doubt the credibility of his threat. This man is clearly confident that this ridiculous idea for a robbery would work to begin with - seriously, in broad daylight, no mask, in a skin-tight black t-shirt and baggy jacket - why wouldn’t he be willing to cut down a few people in his way? No need to ponder it further as your ‘companion’ wipes at your eye. A surprisingly tender gesture, all things considered. 

“Awh, am I really that bad?”

Does he want an actual answer? 

It doesn’t matter now, it’s your turn at the desk. 

“Hi, how can I help you today?”

You force on the best smile you can manage, trying to keep your voice light and gentle. 

“I’d like to make a withdrawal, please.” The teller doesn’t make any indication that anything is awry. 

“Certainly. I’ll need your card and ID please. Which account did you want to withdraw from?”

Your companion steps in as you pull out your ID and card to hand over. “Savings please. We’re headed out on our honeymoon and wanted to make sure we had everything for the trip.” You nod, sliding the cards across the countertop.

The teller’s smile falters just a bit, but you’re hoping he sees it as some sort of surprise at being addressed by someone else, rather than the obvious. She continues with a small huff, “Well, I will need confirmation from the account holder after I make a copy of the ID. It seems the ID we have on file has expired, so I’ll have to make a new one for our system. It shouldn’t take more than a moment. ” Before either of you can protest, she’s turned away and headed for the scanner behind her. 

Toji - you think that’s his name, he mentioned it briefly when he cornered you outside and threatened you - leans in. The gun presses almost under your rib cage at this angle. “You’re gonna have to ask about the unmarked bills. I don’t think she’s buying this whole honeymoon bit.” The teller still has her back to you, working on scanning your ID. You can’t see her hands at all. 

She’s all smiles when she returns to the counter. She hands you your ID and card, but keeps her hands on the countertop. She makes eye-contact with Toji. 

“Alright, how much would you like to withdraw?”

He answers before you can. “All of it.”

“Please.” You chime in - “And can we, uh, can we get that in unmarked bills? The vacation is…international.”

You hesitated in your lie. The smile falters - both hers and yours. 

“Of course. I’ll get right on that.”

The teller leaves again, this time to grab the cash presumably. She’s gone off to another part of the bank. You want to relax, but you aren’t alone here. Toji keeps the gun pressed against your ribs - he must be practiced at this, considering how long he’s kept it up - and lets his lips ghost the outer shell of your ear. 

“Be more confident next time. We gotta look like a normal, happy couple here.”

You don’t tell him that most normal people don’t ask for unmarked bills in any situation. It’s practically the biggest red flag you could give at a bank besides actually pointing a gun at the teller.

 “Ya know, I don’t really like one-sided conversations doll. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” His voice is light as ever, casual even.  Conversing with the person robbing you of all you have isn’t exactly what most normal people do either. Maybe you aren’t destined to have a normal day. Who are you kidding, any chance of that disappeared when you decided to go to the bank. 

“There’s not… a lot going on in my head right now. Besides the obvious.”

“The obvious?”

“Not dying.” You don’t know what gave you the gall to say some stupid shit like that until he chuckles. It’s not loud, but it sits deep enough in his chest to make him ease up on the pressure of the gun against you.

“‘Course. The obvious. Anything else? I’m looking forward to our ‘honeymoon’.”

This time you turn to actually look at him. You hadn’t gotten a good look at him when you first encountered him, a little too preoccupied by the gun pointed in your face. He’s quite attractive, with green eyes and shaggy black hair. The scar over his lip is still somehow eye-catching, and you aren’t sure you want to know where he got it from. 

You ask anyway. 

“Where’d you get that scar from?”

He seems almost surprised, which is fair. You aren’t sure you have any sense of self-preservation left. He considers your question for a second before just smirking and responding  - “It’s a long story.”

The teller re-enters your line of sight.

“Looks like our friend is back.” He whispers, continuing much louder when the teller returns to the counter. It’s only been a couple of minutes, but still you feel like she’s been gone much longer. “All done? We’re in a bit of a rush.”

She hands you at least four envelopes filled to the brim with bills. “Of course sir. I hope the two of you have a lovely honeymoon.” You are actually kinda impressed your savings managed to fill up such space. Simultaneously, it hurts knowing all that work will be gone as soon as you walk out of the building. Toji grabs the money from you, stuffing it in the pockets in his oversized pants. 

“Thanks, you’ve been a big help doll.”

You can’t tell who he’s addressing. 

The pair of you walk out of the bank, and towards the parked cars. 

“You did good back there sweetheart. Now you know the rules, you can’t tell anyone about what happened here tonight, clear?”

“Crystal.”

It’s almost over. This nightmare can end. 

And then you hear the sirens. 

They’re far enough off to not be an immediate threat, but you’re working ona very limited time frame now. Toji doesn’t hesitate as he practically throws you into the backseat of his car.  “Guess you and I are goin’ for a little ride.”

“Wait-!” The doors are closed before you can get a word in edgewise. He’s inserted himself in the front seat and started reversing out as you right yourself in the backseat. The sirens sound closer and he speeds off towards the highway as a couple of cop cars round the corner. 

The chase is on. Toji doesn’t seem phased, weaving in and out of traffic with practiced ease. You, on the other hand, are being tossed around in the backseat as he swerves, struggling to get your seatbelt on. The two of you make it to the service road unscathed, four cars hot on your tail. The sirens have made traffic practically grind to a halt, drastically slowing your progress. Groups of cars block your path, and road spikes make entering the highway nearly impossible. 

“Hold on princess, we’re taking a shortcut.”

You frantically grab the door handle, trying to keep yourself stationary as he jumps the curb to get around a roadblock. A car comes barrelling straight at you as you finally manage to secure your seatbelt. It’s not a direct collision - barely knicks the back bumper - but it’s enough to smack your head against the window. 

Hard. 

By the time you come to, it’s dark outside and you’re far, far out of town. 

“What the hell… Hey, where are we? Weren’t we being chased by cops?”

Toji looks at you in the rearview mirror, a smirk pulling at the edges of his scar. 

“Have a nice nap sweetheart?” He immediately pulls off onto the side of the road. You suppose you’re lucky he didn’t dump you sooner. He opens the driver door and hauls himself out of the front seat. 

“Stellar, thanks for... asking. Hey. Hey! Where the hell are we? What’s going on?” Unfastening your seatbelt, you try to scramble away as he walks around the car to the far door - the one facing away from the street. A hand closes around your ankle, and with a hard yank, you are flat on your back staring up at the man now blocking your best route for escape. 

“Does it really matter? I have no more use of you. So your time is up.” He’s planted one forearm on the top of the doorframe. Moonlight spills in behind him, highlighting the outer corners of his face. Radiant light from the tail lights leaves his left side illuminated in red.

“You’re just going to leave me here?!” You pull yourself onto your elbows, slightly ashamed of the heat that spiked in your gut from being manhandled.

“What’d you expect, doll?” He holds onto the edge of the frame as he leans in, planting an arm right next to your head. “Didja think you’d that I’d just drop ya off somewhere you’d be sure to get back safely? Leave a witness behind?” His eyes are wide open, opposed to the somewhat droopy look they’ve had up until this point. You can’t bring yourself to look away.

“I-I-No-I just -” Your face flushes at his proximity. If he wanted to kill you he would’ve done it a long time ago. He’s had ample chances - shooting you after he got the money or throwing you out of the car while possibly concussed, just to name a couple. If he truly wanted to kill you, and he waited until you thought you were safe to do so - then he would be truly evil. The idea of accidentally smartass-ing your way into an early grave has you tongue-tied.

Toji laughs. It’s not a pleasant sound, full of malice and mockery. He leans back a bit, eyes returning to their normal, aloof state as he takes a slow, considering look down your body. Your skin burns wherever his gaze passes over. You’re acutely aware of how this position makes your chest more prominent, how your legs are spread on either side of his on the outside of the car, how the heat from before never really went away but has instead continued to grow throughout this interaction. 

“Well, since you’ve been so good this far, I’ll be nice. Leave you a little somethin’ to remember me by.”

He lets go of the hood, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulls you upright into a brutal kiss. He bites at your lower lip, and you gasp. His tongue is long and presses into your mouth at the opportunity. He tastes like mint gum - he must’ve had some while you were out. Your arms find purchase on his shoulders, digging your fingers into his hair. Toji’s hand is warm on your lower back, pressing you up against his chest. 

Toji pulls away from the kiss, a string of spit connecting the two of you for a second before he dives towards the crook of your neck. His lips press against your pulse, teeth briefly nicking the skin there, a spark of electricity settling just beneath the area. His tongue flattens against your cheek as he licks one broad stripe from your jaw down to your collarbone. Again, he nips at you before retreating just enough to blow on the wet skin. The sudden chill sends a shiver down your spine, amplifying the heat pooling at your core. 

You instinctively attempt to clench your thighs together, desperate for any kind of friction or relief, only to be stopped by his legs between yours. He bites at the base of your throat, sucking a dark bruise into the skin. Nothing about Toji is gentle, and despite the alarm bells sounding in your head at this whole situation - you can’t help the strangled yelp that escapes you. 

You feel his devilish grin before you see it, the air sucked out of the car as he pulls away from his position marking up your neck. You can’t even pretend to ignore the flash of heat running through you at the dangerous spark in his eyes. Fuck the wine at home, you think you could get drunk off the feeling of him looking at you like a predator closing in on their poor, helpless prey. Maybe that wasn’t too far from the truth. 

He runs those hungry eyes over every inch of you, moving his hands to your waist. In one swift motion, Toji yanks you to the edge of the backseat - your lower half almost entirely out of the car. He wastes no time hauling your legs over his shoulders and begins to leave wet, open mouthed kisses up towards your aching cunt, heat from his breath doing nothing to cool down the fire burning in your gut. He mouths over your clothed core a couple of times, piercing eyes not leaving yours for an instant. Running his fingers along the waistline of your pants, he hooks his fingers under just enough to find purchase on both your pants and panties and practically rips them down your legs. 

Toji hovers over you for just a second. The cool night air settling over your exposed sex makes you squirm in his hold, his eyes more chilling than the night itself. In the soft red glow of the tail lights, he makes one more command. 

“Be as loud as you can. There’s no one out here to hear you but me. I don’t want you to hold back.”

He settles further between your legs, elbows on the seat and forearms thrown across your thighs as he positions himself in front of your cunt. Rather than give you what he knows you want just yet, he turns his head and sinks his teeth into the plush skin of your thigh. It hurts - the bite, the chill, the sensation of him sucking at your skin - and you arch up instinctively. Slamming your hands into the seat, you just about scream. Eyes shut, trying and failing to hold back tears. After the initial bite you fall back onto the seat, panting and whining at the continued sensation. You frantically try to tug at his hair, to pull him off of you, while attempting to move out of his iron grip. Truly, those muscles aren’t just for show. He seems almost emboldened by your attempts. 

Satisfied with the dark, defined bite mark on your thigh and the tear trails adorning your cheeks - he turns his attention to your forgotten cunt and buries his face in your pussy, the bridge of his nose nudging at your sensitive bud. It’s sloppy, it’s rough, it’s messy in a sort of perfected, practiced way. Every minute movement sends jolts of arousal up your spine that bury themselves in your stomach. You rock your hips against him as best you can with his arms still pinning you down. He licks a long hot stripe up your cunt, flicking his tongue at the top of the motion. Always one step away from truly sending you over that cliff. 

You think he’s trying to drive you crazy.

“Please…” 

A pathetic whine. You don’t even know what you’re pleading for - more? For him to stop playing around with you? For him to touch you? To play with your empty, empty cunt? More, more, always more. It might be the headache, it might be the man between your thighs, either way you can’t think straight anymore. You need something more. There’s a deep ache twisting inside you - and you’re pretty sure only the dark haired man in front of you can unwind it. 

“Please what? You know how I feel about one-sided conversations sweetheart.”

The words are muffled as he speaks them against your clit. He punctuates by wrapping his lips around the small bud and sucking on it for a brief moment. Your body jolts with each one, hips bucking.

“I need -  I need more… Please…” 

“More? Like…” One arm lays across your lower stomach, elbow under one hip and fingers splayed out across the other. He maintains his iron grip as he runs a single finger down your slit - collecting the juices before dipping one finger into your heat. He pushes up to the third knuckle, taking just a moment before retreating and slowly circling your clit. 

“Like that?”

You nod furiously, propping yourself up on your arms again. “Yes, yes, please more…” You can’t even bother with shame anymore.

He huffs out a chuckle, “Greedy little thing.” Toji returns his mouth to your clit, roughly plunging his finger back into your cunt. Pleasure blossoms through your body, unfurling its flaming tendrils into your muscles. Moans, whines, breathy half-sounds tumble out of your mouth,  your cunt clenching around his finger as he works you open with one finger, and then another that  presses upwards to find that small spongy spot that would bring the stars into the backseat with you.

Toji fucks his fingers into you as he suctions his lips around your sensitive bud. The heat building in your stomach is on the verge of bursting. 

“A-ah, I’m s’close…” You struggle against his hold again, aching to ride his face and fingers to completion. 

But it seems Toji has other plans. 

Almost as soon as those words leave your lips, the black-haired man quickly removes his fingers from your core. The night air hits your sopping cunt, clenching around nothing. You whine - what the hell?! You start to complain about your denied orgasm, but one look at Toji has any frustrated words dying on your lips. 

He looks positively feral. 

The scar over his lips glistens with the combination of spit and your juices. Teeth bared in a manic grin, his canines catching the light ever so slightly before a long, pointed tongue slips out to gather all remnants of you from his lips and fingers. His pupils are blown wide, hair mussed on the sides where it pressed against your thighs. Toji rises back up to his full height, towering over you in the car. You’d forgotten for a moment you should be scared of him. He doesn’t break eye contact. 

Your heart rate picks up significantly, the adrenaline that should’ve been present since he first grabbed you outside the bank finally making its debut. It must show on your face because the crazed look on his face only seems to intensify. What the hell were you doing? This was ridiculous! This man just robbed you of your life savings and here you are letting him eat you out! He could kill you - he still might after he’s finished with you! 

None of these revelations have remotely tempered the sheer arousal coursing through you.

You start to move away from him. Prey realizing too late that they’re already trapped in the predator's jaws. 

“Oh no ya don’t.” He yanks you back towards him by your ankle. “Can’t back out now, doll. That wouldn’t be fun for either of us.” He grabs your arm, hauling you out of the vehicle into the night. You stumble a little as your feet hit the ground. You spot your pants laying a few feet away, acutely aware of your current state of undress compared to his. Toji hardly gives you time to find your footing before pressing his lips against yours once more. You’re more prepared for this kiss this time- pushing your chest against his and winding your arm around his waist. Teeth clashing, lips bruising at the intensity. Before was messy, full of spit and the slightest gentleness. This? This was no less than Toji claiming you as his own. Another treasure to be had, rich lands to be conquered. He towers over you, placing one hand up under your jaw to tilt your head upwards for ease of access. 

He puppets you in the kiss, pushing and pulling as he moves you away from the open door towards the side of the trunk. You chase his lips, trying to keep an idea of where the car is with a hand following the frame. He pulls away once he’s got you up against a more solid section, and with a hand on either hip he spins you to face the car. You don’t have much time to process the sudden move before he presses himself against your back, warmth radiating through the fabric of your top a stark contrast to the cold metal beneath you.

One thick, calloused hand runs up under your shirt towards your chest - the other slowly moving over your hip towards your slick pussy. Toji presses his face against the crook of your neck, breathing over the exposed skin. You feel fully encased in him, a thought both comforting and terrifying. As with everything else, he doesn’t wait. One finger runs up and down your slit, playing once more with your clit while the hand under your shirt pinches your nipples through your bra. It doesn’t take long for small pants and whimpers to fall from your lips again as he works you back up towards that high. 

He presses two fingers back into your velvet cunt, surprisingly gentle as he works you open once more. His other hand unclasps your bra, allowing it to fall forward enough to comfortably take your breast into his hand. His teeth graze your neck and he rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You whine, rolling your hips forward against his palm. 

The superheated knot in your core hardly has time to redevelop before he again leaves you empty and aching. You throw your head back, resting the side of your face against his hair. You try to press back against him, whining at the loss of his fingers. 

“Please….”

“Please what? Do you know how to say anything else?” He nips at your jaw, his voice positively dripping with the amusement plastered over his features. 

“Please stop playing and just fuck me already!”

This may not count as smart-assing your way to an early grave but it is certainly close.

Toji grins against your skin - “Greedy.” - and bites at your ear. His hands disappear from your body, but his mouth remains glued to the side of your neck. He sucks a small mark in the skin under your ear. You hear the rustle of fabric as his tongue traces over the bruise and down the curve of your jaw. The next moment he’s pressed back against you, obvious bulge pressed squarely against your ass. You try to reach behind, return just a bit of what he’s given you tonight - but Toji’s hands are already pressing your front down into the side of the trunk. One hooks under your thigh just slightly, spreading your feet apart just so. The cold air brushes like hot fire against your skin as he moves away.

You turn your head to the side, not wanting to take your eyes off of him.

One hand lazily strokes his cock, tall and proud, precum catching the light from the tail lights. He’s immersed in their red glow, raven hair mussed against the night sky. 

“This is what you wanted, right doll?”

You wet your lips ever so slightly. You nod. He tuts. 

“We talked about this.”

“Yes! Yes I-ah-I want this.”

He smirks and presses himself back against you. You feel the head of his cock nudging at your folds, dragging through your slit to gather some of the wetness there. His left hand grips your hip, fingers digging into the plush skin. The head catches ever so slightly on your seeping hole on each drag. Toji continues for only a moment more before positioning himself right against your entrance. 

With a small kiss to the nape of your neck, he pushes in. 

You feel like you’re being split open. He’s much longer than you realized - pressing against your cervix before he’s even bottomed out. The girth is just enough to stretch, filling you so deliciously. You hardly get a moment to adjust before he snaps his hips up into you. He presses his length fully into you with each thrust, pushing you forward with the sheer force behind them. As with everything tonight, his thrusts are rough and calculated. Bruising. Even when he’s mostly out of you, the throbbing sensation of your cervix being battered remains. It takes everything in you to remain upright. You cry out with each thrust, hands frantically trying to keep you steady on the smooth metal. You rock back against him as best you can, further amplifying his already bruising speed. 

The pace steals the air from your lungs, tightening around your core and leaving you panting against the car frame. Every inch of you burns with a passion and intensity you could hardly even fantasize before. The feeling of him stretching you open, the stars faintly twinkling in the distance, the mild ache from your now neglected clit, all burns their way into your muscles, taking up home in your memories. You want to close your eyes. You don’t want to miss the slight contortions of his face as he thrusts up into your slick heat. You need to focus on what you’re feeling. You want to lick at the sweat building at his brow, to inhale him into you. 

God, you are one depraved individual. 

A baser side of you takes over, finally letting your head fall to rest against the metal. A litany of incoherent, half-baked thoughts cross your mind and tumble out of your mouth. The knot in your stomach returns. He repeatedly snaps you back against him, the iron grip on your hips guaranteeing a new set of finger-shaped bruises in the morning. Toji readjusts his angle just slightly - enough to find that spot deep inside that steals your vision from you with each thrust. You choke out a garbled moan, and you miss the unsettling grin of a hunter that’s found its mark. 

He pushes you fully against the car, front resting nearly on top of the trunk with his body pressed firmly against your back. One hand snakes down towards your clit, while the other hooks up under your thigh to allow him full access to your poor abused pussy. He rests his head on your back, right at the curve of your shoulder blade. 

“Come on sweetheart, you’ve been so good for me this far.”

A calloused finger rubs circles on your clit. He nails your g-spot with nearly perfect precision. Your cunt flutters around his cock, the knot building and tightening with his attention.

“Give this to me. Remember this - ” a particularly rough thrust draws a cry from you “ - and who it was that made you feel like this.” He bites down onto the skin at the back of your neck, and combined with the finger on your clit and the thrusts against your cervix you can’t find it in yourself to hold on any longer. You’ve already given so much to him - your money, your body, your self-respect - you might as well give him a permanent home in your mind and fantasies. You think you’d probably give him anything if he asked for it. The tension building in your core finally bursts, flooding your senses with its white hot pleasure. You scream, shaking and clenching around him as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. You lean into the overstimulation, tears streaming down your face as the pleasure wracks through you in bursts. At the top of one of those bursts, Toji groans and snaps your hips back one last time to fully seat himself within you. Hot spurts of cum fill you, so much that it begins to leak out around the base of his cock. 

The two of you don’t move for a moment, allowing the heat to settle and dissipate. Toji rests against you, one hand idly rubbing your side. If you weren’t almost entirely on the trunk you probably would’ve fallen to the ground by now. Every inch of you feels light and unreal. You start to focus on bringing yourself back down to reality; Toji pulls out and moves away from you. The night air on your back is refreshing, giving you something real to grab onto. Once you start thinking too hard about what just happened, you’re flooded with abject shame. 

This man just robbed you of your life savings and… you had (mind-blowing) sex with him?! 

You roll onto your back, groaning at the realization. You are quite possibly the stupidest person to ever exist. Or at least the stupidest one at this exact moment. How the hell were you going to get home? He already said he wasn’t just going to drop you off! Fuck - 

Toji pulls you out of your shame spiral, pressing a bundle of cloth - your pants probably - into your arms. 

“Ah, t-thanks.”

He’s fully dressed already, though it wasn’t like he took off much of his clothing to begin with. There’s a small piece of fabric hanging from his pocket, and you realize with increasing shame that it’s your panties. He notices you eyeing it and only smirks before fully hiding it in his pocket. 

“A souvenir. From our little… honeymoon.” You aren’t willing to focus on that any longer, instead electing to get your own pants on - sans proper undergarments. “Well doll. It was nice knowin’ ya.” 

Oh shit. 

Oh fuck oh shit oh fuck - he’s actually going to kill you now. Your heart races and you brace yourself against the car. You open your mouth, fully prepared to plead your case - I won’t say a word, this never happened, please just let me go - as Toji reaches into his other pocket. You want to cry. This has all been too much. He pulls out an envelope - one of the ones the teller at the bank gave you with your savings inside - and takes out a couple of bills. 

Toji wrenches your hand away from the car, and presses the bills firmly into your palm. He even makes sure to close your fingers around them. 

“Get a cab or somethin’. Don’t want ya wandering around too late. ”

Your mouth opens and shuts a few times, staring dumbly after his figure as he walks around to the driver’s side. You try to process the absolute rollercoaster of emotions that was the past couple of minutes, but by the time you realize what’s happening Toji is already starting the car. You frantically feel your pockets - 

“Hey! W-Wait!”

He doesn’t.

“Wait, jackass! My phone’s in there!”

#toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji smut #toji scenarios #toji thirst #jujutsu kaisen toji #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #toji x you #toji fic #jjk smut #jjk x reader #fics #this was mortifying to write

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

Dick was waiting for Jason in his apartment. They had planned to go over a case after patrol.

Little wing was running late. Babs called in a drug bust on the edge of his territory, so Dick just started without him.

Jason’s apartment was one of one’s that were recently renovated. That being said, it was still Crime Alley.

The walls were thin.

So Dick could hear everything going on next door.

Including a terrified shriek, glass breaking, someone hitting the floor very hard and something meaty being repeatedly hit with something.

Dick made his way to the window and opened it, hesitating because he had already stripped out of his suit.

Just in time to hear one more thunk of something falling to the ground and a panicked man’s voice exclaim.

“Oh god… That’s Red Hood… I just beat Red Hood with the creep stick!”

#and that’s how Jason meets his next door neighbor #he was a little tired and confused #Danny is mortified #dp x dc #writing prompt #danny phantom #danny fenton #dc x dp #jason todd #dick grayson #platonic #shipping #who knows

[machineryangel]

— s.r.m. @belovedbi

[ID: All daughters turn into blood thirsty hounds— after years of licking their own wounds and biting their tongue. /end ID]

#mortifying ordeal of sharing your writing etc etc. #words #wretched mirrors #yazılarım #<- this is my tag for my original writing #a child weaned on poison

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

the ironic laughs never end

YOU KNOW WHAT?????? Rollo is a third year and his last name begins with F... Malleus is a third year and his last name begins with D... Because Japanese classrooms typically arrange seating in alphabetical order by last name, those two could end up in the same class, seated next to each other... (or at least very close to each other!)

AND SINCE ROLLO WOULD TAKE CLASSES AT NRC. WHAT IF HE JOINS A CLUB???? WHAT IF HE JOINS MALLEUS'S CLUB?????? 😭 WITH THE EXCUSE THAT HE HAS TO CLOSELY MONITOR MALLEUS?????? THEN THOSE TWO JUST GLARE AT EACH OTHER ALL DAY AND EVERYONE HAS TO WORRY FOR THEIR LIVES IF A BRAWL EVER BREAKS OUT

Can you tell that my excitement for the Rollo SSR keeps building with each passing day—

#twst #twisted wonderland #Malleus Draconia #Rollo Flamme #Rollo Flamm #disney twisted wonderland #notes from the writing raven #it’s funny bc mob students with zero context for what went down in the City of Flowers #might assume Rollo is closeted and overcompensating by venting his rage on the target of his affections/j #Rollo being mortified that people ship him with Malleus…

[finntheehumaneater]

thinking about Eddie, who because of the upsidedown was in a coma for effectively the rest of '86. When he woke up he had to re-learn a lot of shit, since even after he could open his eyes and sit up, moving was still hard.

Steve and Robin go with him to all of his PT appointments as he works on moving and standing up, but not walking yet. The therapist overhears him complaining to Steve about how he misses writing, since his hands are too shaky for the words to be legible.

She tells him that if he wants to write better he should practice more, and maybe pick something else up that requires small, repetitive movements, like sewing or crocheting.

Eddie is about to open his mouth to say that sewing might be a good idea, because he can work on putting his old patches onto the new vest that the kids bought him as a "we're glad you're not dead present", when Robin comes back from the bathroom and pipes up that she has some crocheting stuff from when she and Steve tried to learn together a few years back, and that's the end of that conversation.

crocheting is his least favorite part of the night, even if Robin and Steve are patient and let him pick the movie in the background and don't get frustrated when he drops the hook between the couch cushions for the thirtieth time in an hour.

Eventually he gets the hang of it, but--out of spite--refuses to make anything other than a very long line with his yarn, telling Steve and Robin he's going to strangle them with it when he's done, because crocheting "is literally the least metal thing in the world."

He stops threatening to strangle Robin after she makes him a little bat.

#i saw a girl at my PT appointment who got recommended this and she looked mortified #but her bf got so excited and went “fuck yeah babe i'm gonna make you SO MUCH STUFF!” #it was adorable #Steddie #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Robin Buckley #Stobin #i just think that robin and eddie would be best friends #i'm crocheting myself a blanket it's taking forever and i hate it but i do it when i watch movies because i don't have to worry about #what to do with my hands #Steddie drabbles #might write this one day #or someone else could take inspo and save me the trouble i dunno how tf i would describe how you crochet #my post #stranger things #steve x eddie #finn writes

[teaboot]

Bullet vibrator with a note that says "we will never fucking speak of this". Left wrapped in room anonymously like a coward. Appropriate gift for a younger sibling? Advice

#Cause on one hand I never ever ever ever ever want to know #Or talk #Ever #But also #Teenagers experiment with weird shit #And I want them safe happy and healthy #And like #Teen ME would have been mortified but grateful #So what do #They will recognize my writing #Not for work #Adult stuff

[nat-20s]

I have already gushed about how much Shaun Temple loves and adores Donna Noble but I cannot emphasize enough that I am 100% certain she is JUST as wholly besotted with him!! I know in my heart they are like. An EMBARRASSINGLY lovey couple. I know Donna's like SHAUN!! HEY!!! and he's like YES HON?? and she's like. You have a cute butt :3. Hell it's probably WORSE now that her other special little guy is back and she's not trying to work around an open wound of inexplicable grief. Hope she has flex time at UNIT because she's been repeatedly late due to a impromptu 20 minute snogging session.

#dw spoilers #doctor who #donna noble #shaun temple #IM MAKING THEM EMBARASSINGLY IN LOVE BECAUSE I SAID SO #god the little 'most husbands would get worried. me in a box with another man' #'yeah but..not him tho' and then donna's little amused nose scrunch #told me EVERYTHING about their relationship #they love and like each other sooooo much #rip rose i KNOW her parents mortify her but in a positive way fjlk #also not to be a sap but i WILL be writing them with like #the same dynamic as my married 30+ years parents 💖. who were dweebs that put a star trek quote in their wedding vows

[toskarin]

all of this coming from someone who's like, serviceable at writing dialogue at best, but has to fight claw and tooth to force myself to hit "publish" on any chapter involving a conversation that goes on for more than five sentences, mind you

#most of my dialogue-heavy writing has been the stuff that got the most praise #but good god it's fucking MORTIFYING to say 'hey listen to me have a conversation with myself for a couple thousand words. do you like it.'

[auspicioustidings]

The Ghost

Blue Blood Part 6

Summary: The conclusion to Blue Blood, you are finally hunted by the Ghost.

Words: 1.8k

CW: Most of this chapter is smut!

“It’s too much, it’s too much!” 

You thought you might die. The marble altar you were on was cool beneath your skin but you were on fire. An hour of fragrant ritual oil being massaged into every inch of you had already gotten you unbearably wound up, but now Johnny had three fingers massaging inside you and Kyle was right by your ear giving you delicious little praises that made you squeeze involuntarily at the fingers and John was standing just looking with such an intensity in his eyes that it was difficult to look away.

“You can take it Duchess” the Duke said firmly.

“I can’t! Please I-” you begged, a moan cutting your words off when you tried to move your hand to touch yourself where you needed only for the Prince to grab your wrists to stop you. Johnny pressed his thumb hard to your clit, not moving, just pressing almost painfully.

This must be some form of torture, not letting you cum. You felt so dazed, like you were starting to float outside of your own body. You tried to move your hips so that Johnny’s thumb would change from an uncomfortable pressure to getting you to the high you wanted, but he pressed a hand to your stomach and held you in place. You think you may have been babbling incoherent curses at them, threatening them with anything you could think of to just touch you properly. There wasn’t even a burn from the stretch anymore, the drooling from between your legs was encouraging the fingers pumping in and out if anything. You think you screamed when they left you.

Desperation was not something you understood before now. You needed more, there was nothing outside of that need anymore. Emptiness and want was all that there was, the need to be full and touched. Without their hands on you, you felt untethered, not even aware of what you were saying or doing.

“Fuuuck ye beg so pretty don’t ye?”

You were vaguely aware then that you were reaching out to Johnny, begging him to come back to you. Begging him to use you how he wanted, satisfy himself with your body if that meant he would let you cum. The Duke grabbed onto his hair and yanked him back sharply, stopping him from getting his hands back on you. Stopping him from putting more than his fingers inside you. You all but squirmed off of the altar, finding your knees weak and legs shaking at trying to even hold up your weight. Johnny looked near feral, the Duke now having to put in some effort to hold him back.

“Kyle!”

At Price’s shout the Prince moved to back Johnny against the wall. The Duke came to stand in front of you then, blocking your view of Kyle going to his knees. What a sight you made, the oil on your skin making it shine in the moonlight pouring in through the skylight of the little ritual chamber, your eyes wet and shining from unshed tears of frustration. You looked up at him so wide-eyed and trusting that if Duke John Price were a weaker man he would have taken you right there and then.

“You’ve already done so well little bird, just a little more. It’s time for you to run” he said, hand coming to caress your cheek. “It’s going to be scary but you need to trust he would never do anything that would permanently hurt you. You’ll not be able to see me, but I promise I will be right there if you need me.”

With a hard squeeze to your hip you were all at once outside.

–

You are running. The earth beneath your bare feet is soft and damp. The moon is high and bright, light filtering down through the trees and turning the woods into some otherworldly realm. Time isn’t linear here, you think you may have been running for hours, yet only seconds ago you had been married. You are scared of being caught and yet your body craves it. Every glimpse of the figure stalking you heightens your nerves until you lose the ability to hear anything but the blood rushing through your veins and throbbing needily between your legs. 

You are caught.

–

The Ghost panted above you, his cock throbbing even through the layer of fabric at your ass. You wanted to turn and see him, but you were pinned down into the dirt, face barely able to turn so you could breathe. He was growling lowly, shifting so that you could feel his hot breaths right on the shell of your ear.

“Thought you could run from me? Stupid thing, there is nowhere you could go that I would not hunt you down.”

There was the tear of gossamer as he ripped at your gown. If either of you had any sense then it would just have been rucked up, the thing was designed for easy access, but you were both so far gone that it didn’t register. You writhed under him, scrambling to get away or get closer with no sense of certainty on which. He wrenched one of your arms to pin it painfully to your back and you howled out in protest as your other hand clawed at the dirt to try and drag you forward and away from him.

“Quit fucking squirming. Think I can’t see how needy that cunt is little girl? Fucking gagging for it.”

He was mean and your hips pressed back against him in response. You had turned into something mean too. 

“Throwing stones at glass houses, you feel plenty needy.”

He barked a laugh and used his free hand to pull his cock out of his clothes, stroking it only once before running the head through your soaked folds. When you felt the heat of it against your clit you fought as hard as you could against his hold to try and rub against him. 

“Want it pretty girl? Want my cock inside you?”

You whined and kept trying to move back against him in answer which only caused him another mean laugh and a sharp smack against the flesh of your ass which you screeched at.

“You were so happy to talk back, what happened? Use your fucking words. Beg for me.”

It didn’t matter that his cock had already caught on your hole, that he was already starting to push into you. You were getting what you wanted but you were so gone, so desperate to get everything he could give, that you choked out an answer anyway.

“Please please, need you inside me! Take me, I’m yours. Ah! I’m yours! Please I- ah!” you screamed as you felt the heat of him sink into you inch by inch. “Full, m’too full.”

“You can take it Duchess.”

Him repeating the words that Price had said had you choking on your own saliva with the possibility that the Duke had given him advice on how best to handle you. When you thought there could not possibly be more inside of you he let go of your arm to put his hands on your hips and pull them up, your chest still pressed into the dirt with your ass now high. He sunk impossibly more into you and you whined long and low. It felt like he was in your fucking stomach. 

“Fuck you’re tight,” Ghost groaned as he gave a few slow thrusts, making it deeper each time until he bottomed out.

When one of his hands came to press low on your stomach, when you both realised at the same time that he could feel himself there, you felt your walls flutter and pulse around him and came very close to cumming from his moan alone. His hand on your hip tightened until it was bruisingly tight. He was fighting himself.

“I can take it.”

That snapped any self control Ghost had and he started fucking you with a fury. The air was punched out of your lungs with every hard and deep thrust of him inside you and you were light headed from the lack of oxygen. It was intense, it was too intense. The hand on your stomach moved back so he could ram you back onto his cock again and again, using your body for his own pleasure. It was intense and pain and pleasure and if you did not cum you would die. You couldn’t verbalise it, the only noises you could make were sobs and moans as he ruined you. 

“Perfect cunt, all wet and squeezing at me. Want you to cum on my cock, try fucking strangle it.”

His fingers only had to touch you for moments before you were screaming your throat raw, the orgasm making you see white. Your pussy choked on his dick the way your throat had on Price’s, body overwhelmed and trying to force him out. 

“Fuck, take it!”

He fucked you hard through your orgasm and gave one last push, spilling himself deep inside of you. You went completely boneless, head totally empty and body exhausted. It meant you didn’t notice how despite him being in the same situation, he still made sure to catch himself on his forearms as he collapsed on top of you to protect you from his weight. 

You were barely conscious by the time he pulled out and rolled off of you, dragging you with him so he could hold you close there on the earth and Simon Riley could mutter soft praises into your hair, telling you how sorry he was for hurting you and how proud he was of how well you had done. He told you he loved you. 

As the darkness of sleep took you, you couldn’t help but think that despite how little you knew the man holding you, you loved him too.

–

“I like rainbow butterflies so much!”

“Aye? Is that right wee yin?”

“I pick red, your turn!”

You hide your laugh in Ghost’s shoulder, but he does very little to hide how funny he finds the sight of the scary Blood Druid once again hanging on every word of nonsense your toddling daughter says. The War Duke is happily sat right next to the two of them, following orders and picking out a gemstone which earns a delighted laugh and an exclamation of “blue!”. 

The Wild King is holding your sleeping newborn, gazing down at the baby with soft adoration. It had caused quite the scandal when your second child had been so clearly not your husband’s, but behind closed doors the only tension had been Kyle endlessly teasing the others that they would simply need to try harder next time if they didn’t want every other child you had to have the same soft brown skin as him. 

“Are you happy, my gentle little Duchess?” your husband asks.

“Blissfully.”

#mhairiwrites #cod #cod au #fanfic #tf 141 x reader #gaz x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #kyle garrick x reader #look besties Mhairi is pretty ok at writing fluff but not as ok at writing spice #so this is low key mortifying

[tacogoats]

Unwell about the idea of Orin using Durge's face to keep the charade going of the Durge still being around, so Gortash doesn't get suspicious.

He does anyway because she didn't understand how real their relationship was - and she slips up. Often. He knew immediately when the Dark Urge became so, so very cold. Nothing like the warmth he has known for years now behind closed doors; because it isn't them.

She is good at fine details of the body; she gets every scar, every little blemish perfectly, but she can never truly imitate the person behind the Urge.

She couldn't have hoped to anyway, because she didn't know who they really were. Only Gortash could, because he is the first to ask.

It surprises her, and infuriates her, even! The mighty Dark Urge, debased into some lovesick puppy yearning after this little Lordling!

And the mistakes that follow are how Gortash learns the Dark Urge is gone.

#bg3 #durgetash #I'm obsessed with the scene where she wears the player's face and it won't leave me like heLLO LARIAN? #I know it's a popular hc that Orin probably wore durge's face to taunt Gortash but I just think she probably did it to keep the charade up- #-until she took hold of everything. and gortash was going to be kept in the dark as long as possible until she could figure out what was- #-going to be inherited from her dear sibling! #I once again have to add I plan to write Orin wearing Veren's face to piss Ketheric off too lmfao. I wonder if the Netherbrain ever saw it- #-too honestly; just Orin parading her sibling's skin around while mocking him relentlessly. chef kiss #Gortash being mortified and then even worse when the REAL Durge walks back in but it's just like Orin again but worse. #Worse because it's really them this time #but there's no weak imitation. it's just. an empty shell.

[pebblume]

I never realized how liberating writing fanfiction would be. I hadn’t written creatively in years. It’s been so long that I kind of forgot what it felt like. The childlike rush of pouring your heart out onto a blank page, not caring about the results as long as you were having fun. I’ve tried writing fanfic a couple of times, for different fandoms across the years, but never finished anything I was really happy with, nothing that I felt comfortable sharing with the world. But something just clicked for me this past week. I realized how much fun it was to stretch out my writing muscles, to get inside the heads of my favorite characters. I realized that it didn’t have to be perfect to be worthy of being shared and loved by others. I realized that I had so many stories inside myself - more than I thought possible. 

But perhaps what I’m most in awe of is fanfic readers. The people who read my work and leave kudos and bookmarks and comments - one word comments, sweet comments, silly comments, paragraph-long comments. I love them all. I used to be afraid of leaving comments on AO3, afraid I wouldn’t have enough words, wouldn’t have the right words, to depict how I felt. But when I felt firsthand how much those comments meant to me I started leaving more and more of them, spreading a digital paper trail of love to all my favorite authors. More and more often I recognize the profile names and images in my comment section and think, Hey, I know you! Now I’m not just a guest on AO3, or a passive reader. I belong here. 

I won’t lie and say I don’t miss drawing a bit, my previous creative outlet. There are plenty of drawings inside me too, itching to be realized. I really just don’t have the time for two time extensive hobbies, not when I need to balance school and practicing and little things like sleeping and eating and relaxing. I miss it, but not as much as I thought I would. There’s a level of investment to sharing a story online that feels…special. When I post my art, I get engagement, and it feels nice, but ultimately, most people are only spending about ten seconds looking at the work I spent eight hours on, if that. When someone reads my fics, we’ve now spent time together. You’ve lived inside my head for a bit, made it your home. It’s about feeling seen, I think. Writing makes me feel understood in a way visual art sometimes doesn’t. It makes me feel vulnerable in the same way performing music does, but less exposed too. It’s interesting to me. 

The only downside, if you can call it that, is now that the writing bug has infected me, I’m finding it harder and harder to stop. I’ll have an idea and then suddenly five hours have flown by because I’m on a creative streak and I just want to write one more idea down, which turns into two, and so on and so forth. I dread stopping, because what if I forget something? What if I get into a writing block later? Suddenly I have people who want to read the things I write and I want to provide it, I really do, but I also have responsibilities. I say, as I write this, ignoring my audition tomorrow afternoon. 

I still have a bit of embarrassment attached to fandom works. When I tell acquaintances that I like to draw or write, I rarely tell them I mean fanart and fanfiction. As if loving something that deeply, that sincerely, is inherently shameful in this age of irony and soulless remakes. Especially when my interests usually consist of media marketed towards children, nevermind the fact that it has more emotional maturity than most ‘adult’ works. But I’m trying to get better about it. A lot of my closest friends know about my hobbies, and some I’ve even let see my work. It’s terrifying but also giddying, seeing them like an art post or comment on a fic. After all, to reap the rewards of being loved, one must submit themselves to the mortifying ordeal of being known, or something like that. 

I realized today that I’ve written over 30,000 words in the past two weeks about about two characters who don’t belong to me, but whom I’ve made my own.

And I’ve never felt happier

#some sily thoughts i had today #might delete later #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #archive of our own #ao3 writer #writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #fandom #the mortifying ordeal of being known

[valeriianz]

I've had this Dreaming The Proposal AU sitting in my drafts for a while. Then @voukkake comes out with this art and I figured it was time to brush off the dust and share what I'd written lol. This is seriously all I'm going to write so if anyone is interested I'm begging you to pick this up. I'm dying to read Dream awkwardly interacting with Hob's family (also @valiantstarlights suggestion that Betty White is Destiny?? ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT). Anyway...

------------------

Dream is about to be deported because his visa application has been denied. He is in the middle of a meeting with his lawyers when Hob, his secretary, pops in the room to inform Dream of a very important phone call and Dream comes up with the insane plan to marry Hob to keep his immigration status.

He gestures for Hob to come over and Hob, clueless, wanders into the room and stands next to Dream, who takes him by the arm and tugs him just a little bit further to stand awkwardly close.

Dream announces their engagement and Hob stands there, shell shocked and feels his mouth moving against his will. That yeah, they are getting married. They are in love, sure. It isn’t until they leave the office, following Dream back to his, that Hob’s brain seems to come back online.

“What just happened in there?”

Dream grouses, head down, already back to his work as if nothing happened. Like he didn’t just use Hob as a pawn in his scheme to get around his denied visa application.

“They were going to make Morningstar editor-in-chief.” Is all Dream says, disdain dripping from every word. He still hasn’t looked up.

Hob stands there, still as a statue. His head is swimming with words, with emotions. Anger, disbelief, betrayal… and a small tiny flicker of undeniable interest that he hastily stomps out.

He manages to put the pieces together rather quickly though, while Dream continues sifting through paperwork.

“This is illegal,” Hob manages to croak out, brows furrowing. 

“Oh, please. The government looks for terrorists, not book publishers.” Dream’s head is still down in his paperwork.

Hob blinks, taking a step up to Dream’s desk. “I'm not marrying you.”

“Sure you are.” Dream sets aside a stack of papers and finally gives Hob his attention. “Because if you don't, your dreams of ‘touching millions of lives with the written word’ are dead.” 

Hob’s jaw drops. That was a line, corny as it was, that he’d used in the panel interview for this job. Three years ago.

----------------------

“Were you not in that room? I could get fined, I’ll go to jail over this. If you want me on this deal, you will promote me to editor.”

Without even glancing up from his phone, Dream scoffs.

“Absolutely not.”

“Well then I guess you’re screwed. Buh-bye.” Hob turns with a flourish and has to bite back a grin at how Dream splutters behind him and grabs him by the arm.

“Fine– fine! Editor.” His face seems to go through the five stages of grief. He drops his hold on Hob.

“And You’ll publish my manuscript.” Hob throws in. In for a penny.

Dream’s brows narrow and he shakes as if he’s physically controlling the urge to stamp his foot.

“Sure. I’ll publish your hack manuscript.”

“Good.” Hob slips his hands in his pants pockets, staring at Dream, deciding on one last nail in the coffin.

“Now do it properly.”

Dream cocks an eyebrow. “Do what properly?”

“Propose. Like you mean it.”

Dream’s entire body seizes up, but he manages not to let it show, distracting himself by slipping his phone in the pocket of his expensive slacks and clasping his hands in front of him.

“Will you marry me?”

“No.” Hob, the arrogant bastard, is visibly biting back a smirk. “Say it like you mean it.”

Dream takes a long, steadying breath through his nose.

“Hob Gadling. Will you–”

“And get on your knees.”

Dream absolutely refuses to decipher the thrill that shoots through his body at Hob’s command. Instead he keeps his mask of irritation and indifference on as he scans the crowd around them. They are still outside the courthouse, and the concrete sidewalk is going to potentially tear Dream’s Hugo Boss black wool pants.

So he carefully lowers himself, scowling as the smirk on Hob’s face only widens as Dream slowly settles onto the ground.

Once he’s as comfortable as Dream’s going to get, he clears his throat.

“Hob Gadling,” he glares at his subordinate from under his lashes. “Will you fucking marry me?”

Hob curls his lips in mock consideration, looking up past Dream’s head. He rocks back on his heels and nods with a forlorn sigh.

“Okay.” He still hasn’t met Dream’s gaze. “Could've done without the sarcasm but it will do. See you at the airport tomorrow.” 

And turns and walks away, leaving Dream to fend for himself on the ground.

#dreamling #hob x dream #the sandman #my writing #i guess this is my niche now? #transcribing romcoms into dreamling fodder lol #i cant stop thinking about that *chefs kiss* perfect line on the airplane #when Dream asks Hob what he's allergic to. as a test. #and Hob confidently responds with 'tree nuts. and the whole spectrum of human emotion.' #or Dream cornering Hob at his family's home and getting in his face at how irritated he is by the taunting and teasing and that #Hob needs to step it up #and Hob. sly as ever. throws back: 'oh. thats no problem for me. i can be the doting. sweet. smitten fiance. but it's /you/... #... that needs to be convincing.' #and then he idk offers them to practice kissing in private and Dream is so mortified by the prospect but also. #.. definitely a little (a lot) interested #okay im done lol #the proposal au

[ffcrazy15]

"Just Write For Yourself"

I think the thing that gets to me the most about the whole "just write for yourself!" response to writers complaining the lack of engagement in fanfic, is that it makes me realize that there's a fundamental misunderstanding between writers and readers of how much work writing fic is.

Like, there are 2-3 scenes in any given oneshot or chapter that I want to write. I usually write those first. They'll take me a couple of, very enjoyable, hours at most.

And then I have to go back and write the whole rest of the fic. Which is work. And it's usually not immediately enjoyable.

For example, one of my best fics on AO3 is a Star Trek fanfic called Rascal'ed. This was one of the fics that was easiest for me to write, one of the ones that just possesses you until it's done. It took me less than five days to create.

And I still had to go back in and fill in blank spots and cut bad prose and revise the dialogue.

If you want to see what a difficult fic to write looks like, like my fic Leap of Faith, here's what I do for my stories that I actually plan out:

And that's just the planning. I still have to write the damn thing. And there are things in the above layout—which is just for Chapter 1, mind—that got changed between this and the final published version of the chapter. You can see that the title of the story itself was changed at some point.

So when people say, "write for yourself, not for engagement!" What I personally hear is: "I as a reader do not understand how much work writers put into getting a story into a publishable form, and I also do not realize how easy it would be for them to write the couple of scenes they enjoyed writing and then to let it sit forever in their drafts."

(Of these eight fics—averaging more than 20 pages each—only two of them ever made it to AO3. The rest remain unfinished and unpublished.)

And for the record: I, personally, have wonderful readers. Kind, attentive readers who leave me comments engaging with the work. And it's because of them that I continue to publish stories! Like, I don't want to sound like sour grapes here, because I know that I get way more comments than many great writers out there.

But I've seen, across the board, writers trying to express that they are just not getting the engagement that they desire and expect for the work they put in, and people responding with "you shouldn't expect engagement; just write for yourself."

And the thing is, I know they're not trying to be rude. I know that! Of course they don't know how hard we work, who would have ever told them? We can't blame them for not knowing what they've never been told. Which is why I just felt the need to get out here and say:

Writing fics takes a lot of work. A lot of work. Hours upon hours of unpaid labor. Any fic that you see on AO3 or Fanfiction.net or Wattpad, is not something someone wrote solely for themselves. They could have just daydreamed about it, or written a couple of scenes and then left it unfinished. But they chose to put in the hard work it took to finish it. Because they wanted other people to read and engage with it.

Please engage with it.

Because if all fic writers ever hear is "you should just write for yourself"—we might start believing it.

#fanfic writers #ao3 #writing #fanfic writing #fanfiction #fanfic #write for yourself #the mortifying ordeal of showing your fic writing process to strangers on the internet

[ineffable-aaaaaaaaaa]

what’s your biggest reader’s pet peeve I’ll go first MORTIFIED MEANS EMBARRASSED. IT MEANS HUMILIATED. IT DOES NOT MEAN SCARED OR HORRIFIED. MORTIFIED. MEANS. EMBARRASSED.

#I’m sorry I got a little heated #but fr please stop using mortified wrong it completely ruins the tone of whatever you’re writing #nonsense

[twyz]

i’ve been,,,, heavily humbled

#twyz #this is mortifying #how is this the same person #i’m officially writing this off as a me problem bECAUSE WHAT #HOWWWW??? #rhps #the rocky horror show #the rocky horror picture show #rocky horror picture show #rocky horror show #rocky horror #rocky horror fanart #dr frank n furter #frank n furter #digital art #made in ibis paint

[scrawnytreedemon]

Saw another comment somewhere regarding their own teenage disappointment upon finding that the rest of Zant's features didn't live up to his lips, and that gave me the motivation to draw something that's been on my mind for years:

What if they did?

[Further Rambling Beneath Cut]

This is... throwing me for a loop, lmao. Now granted, Hyrule Warriors did wonders in beautifying this (not-so-)little freak, but man. I prefer how he looks already, and if anything play up the non-conventional angle. It's been wild purposefully aiming for a conventionally attractive face again, something I haven't done in years. I usually try to throw in other details to shake it up a bit.

He'd need more of an outfit change(perhaps some free-flowing locks) before he could reach Full Sexy™, so I guess there's that to play with.

God, this is cursed.

#tloz #scrawny draws #twilight princess #zant #scrawny commits crimes #(arguably) #this has been fun but also very cursed 😭 #for any of you mortified souls looking for a way to glam him up. here you go i guess. #this may or may not come with him keeping up the cool stoic facade #for Full Sexage™ #again personally i prefer zant how he is #wouldn't change anything about him except: #1. better writing (as i long for all tloz villains 🙏) #2. make him BUILT! not in a shredded bodybuilder way i mean like a heavyweight *wrestler* #give him muscles give him fat #i have the tastes of a premodern church painter 😔😩 #and perhaps i'll upload those later #we'll see