my name is Rue. I write a lot of fics, mostly reader insert but occasionally I put an OC into the mix. I'm 30 years old, a first generation immigrant, and neurodivergent.
rules ->
minors dni. this blog is intended for an adult audience only. ageless or blank blogs may be blocked.
this blog is queer friendly, anti-bigotry. I don't engage in discourse.
I crosspost my fics to ao3, linked above. I do not consent to my work being reposted or fed into generative ai.
my askbox is always open for chatting or fic requests! I often reblog prompt lists so please feel free to send me one (I currently mostly write for the goslingverse, specifically: Ryland, Court, Colt, Holland, K, Luke, & Ken 💖)
recent fics ->
Going Dark (Court Gentry)
Definitely, Somewhat, Working On It (Holland March)
If you regret a permanent body alteration you got and your immediate thought is "raise the legal age for everybody who can do this" instead of "Maybe I, specifically, was a dipshit" you need to get Gotten by a mountain lion
i hate how much people care about their ships being "canon" now. spirk fans didn't publish zines full of fanfics in the 70s only for modern fandom to grovel at the knees of corporations and beg for things to be canon. use your imaginations, don't allow billionaires to think for you.
A discussion was had in the Goose Pen server after @prudejudee wrote about this for Ryland & Colt; I'm adding Court & K to the discussion!
Court is midway through lifting your ass up higher, adjusting your hips and sinking the final inch or so of his thick cock inside you.
He'd only pulled out of you so he could flip you onto your front after you'd pleaded with him to be rougher.
The deep thrusts he gives you punch the breath from your lungs, have you digging your nails into the soft sheets of your bed. It's an attempt to ground yourself. It doesn't work.
He's been away from you for too long; he always gets a little rougher, a little more desperate, when he first comes home.
You don't mean to say it, but he presses in so deep that you lose all semblance of rationality, not to mention your filter.
“Fuck, daddy-” you moan, and he grunts in response, snapping his hips against your ass sharply before he stops, hips stuttering erratically.
“Daddy, huh?” Court smirks down at you, amused, you think.
He's heard you call him a lot of things in bed before - sir, usually - but never this one.
“I-” you stammer, eyes wide. You aren't sure whether to be embarrassed or not.
In this position, face down, ass up, you can't turn to look at him. Can't get a read on his expression.
He leans down, presses a slow, lazy kiss to your shoulder blade.
“Don't go shy on me now, honey. Let daddy take care of you-” he starts to move again, slow and deep.
Every breathy moan you give him is music to his ears, encouragement to pick up the pace, fuck you harder, faster.
Only when tears of pleasure are welling in your eyes, rolling down your cheeks, your cunt drooling and fluttering around him, does he slow a little, giving you a moment of reprieve.
“That's it- there you go- so good for daddy…” he praises you, hands on your hips still, grip a little less tight. “Feel so good when you cum on daddy's cock-”
You whine, desperate, wishing that you'd called him that sooner. If only you'd known the reaction it would inspire.
“God, you're so pretty when you're all fucked out and cock drunk-”
Court leans over you, blankets your body with his own, solid chest pressed firmly against your back, determined to make you 'cum one more time on daddy's cock before he empties his balls inside you.
K likes the idea of you carrying his child. He knows there's risk involved, but he isn't sure it's even possible. Still, it's what you want, and what he wants is for you to be happy.
The conversation comes about as you're caged in beneath him, your nails dragging so carefully across his shoulders as he steadily grinds his hips against yours.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” He asks, his voice a little ragged from arousal, but still just as soft as usual.
It's a question that he asks you with relative frequency, one that he's asked you ever since you ran away from the city with him.
Are you sure this is what you want? Are you sure you want to give up your life for someone like me?
At least he's started saying someone instead of the previous something. His self worth still needs work, but you'll get there.
“Yes,” you reassure him emphatically, one hand drifting to cup his cheek, thumb brushing back and forth. “I wanna do this with you - wanna make you a daddy -”
It just slips out, but the reaction is instant. He leans down, buries his face in your neck, trying - and failing - to muffle his responding whine.
You can feel his thick, heavy cock throbbing inside you, and you hum, petting the short hair at the nape of his neck.
“Do you like that?” You ask, soft and saccharine, even though you're genuinely curious.
He doesn't lift his head, just whines again, grinds his hips a little harder against yours.
“You do!” You breathe, delighted; discovering something new that he likes is always a highlight to you. “You like it when I call you daddy?”
This time, he does lift his head, looks at you with his blue eyes blazing.
It's that intense look that he fixes you with as he lifts your hips high around his waist, rutting into you with relentless abandon.
You'll take that as an unequivocal, resounding, yes.
I love getting comments on really old fics. It's like a little tap on the shoulder that says, "hey the art you create is going to last forever even if you don't think it matters anymore"
