#it was too tempting

[ourpholia]

... sorry, i had to

[shywhumpauthor]

I think I have a semi-coherent plot laid out for Whumpuary, if anyone’s interested. Right now it’s looking like it’ll be around 25 parts maybe, not including drabbles I may write along the way or possible side arcs

[himilce-persephoniea]

Gifts at the Crèche

Those past few days I’ve been attacked by a terrible migraine and I haven’t been able to write like a wanted. I began to write some of the prompts of the Duolingo prompt List. I want to thank my Obikin Discord server to have jump in asks. This first is a gift 🤗

30. A good father never throws out the baby

(disclaimer: I have absolutely no idea what the sentence means in English, so I’ve improvised)

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Anakin was stressed. He had to admit it. He had thought that the week at the Crèche would do him some good, but it was worse than being on the front. Babies and little Force-Sensitives were a nightmare. He had always secretly hoped to one day meet someone that would want to form a family with him. Unlike popular belief, families weren’t prohibited inside the Jedi Order. There were even some incredible family sagas like the one Mace Windu came from.

But Anakin had come late to the Jedi Order. He had been a slave found by his Master. He had grown up in Tatooine, raised by a loving mother. When Master Jinn found them, he liberated them. His mom was living happily in the gardens, and Anakin was an accomplished Jedi Knight. But Anakin had always craved a family. Someone to take care of, and a lot of kids to raise.

That’s why he chose the Crèche, to practice being a father. But now he was facing the crude reality: his Master had been a disaster and had never taught him to take care of little younglings. He now had a crying baby in his arms, and the little one didn't want to stop crying. Anakin was completely desperate, and the baby only cried harder.

On an impulse, he threw him up in the air, hoping the little one would like to fly –Anakin liked flying. But when he was with his hands up, waiting for the baby to fall, he saw as he went to the left and landed in the arms of somebody else.

“A good father never throws out the baby.”

Anakin saw the same with the baby. It was a man close to his forties, with a well-trimmed beard, gorgeous auburn hair, soft eyes, scolding expression, but amused. Anakin was bewitched at the instant.

“I… He was crying all the time. I thought he would like to fly… I like flying.”

The man came close to Anakin, he noticed how the baby had lowered his voice. The man took Anakin’s hand –he was so soft, he smelled of fresh soap-, and put it over the baby.

“You're Force-Sensitive, the same as the baby. Reach to the Force. What is it telling you about him?”

Anakin reached the Force. He was the son of the Force, he could deep in easier than anybody else in the Temple. It has been his gift and his curse. He felt the baby. The little one seemed to be more open with the gorgeous man holding him. Anakin could understand him, he too would have been more open if that man would have embraced him so lovingly. Anakin left aside those thoughts for a moment and centred himself on the baby, on what he felt. And he discovered what was the problem: he was hungry! But the little demon had been fed just when Anakin had arrived an hour ago, how was it possible that he was hungry again?

“Are you hungry again, bottomless pit?”

The baby babbled happily in the man’s arms when Anakin brought a baby bottle. He was! The man gave him the baby and Anakin fed him as the Crèche Master had taught him to do. “I can’t believe it! Look how happy he is now.”

The man smiled softly. “Babies are often hungry, especially Force-Sensitivities with great power.” He caressed the baby’s face, and then let the baby take one of his fingers while he was drinking.

Anakin tried to not melt at the adorable view he had in front of him. “Anakin,” he said without thinking. “My name is Anakin Skywalker.”

The man smiled, “Obi-Wan Kenobi.” Anakin tried to not sight, learning the name. “That little demon is Ezra Bridger. And if I recall correctly, he loves Meiloroon juice.” He looked at Anakin with a knowing face. “And so do I.”

“I… I can bring it next time.” Anakin was playing Obi-Wan's game. Anakin knew it; Obi-Wan knew it. Kark! Even Ezra knew it.

“Well, if you are going to bring us such good presents…” Obi-Wan looked into Anakin’s eyes. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“Would you like to stay forever?” A little youngling, with whom Anakin had played earlier, and who seemed to have listened to the whole conversation, shouted it from the other side of the room.

Anakin laughed nervously, blushing. “Dinner would be great.”

“Great. I’ll prepare something exceptional.” Obi-Wan kissed his cheek and left the room. Anakin had to sit with a silly smile on his face. He was going to bring the best Meiloroon juice he could find.

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If you liked it, here is the Duolingo Prompt List 🤗 don't hesitate to send me an ask to ask me for a prompts 🤗

[defectivexfragmented]

I tried to give Matt a villain but instead he got a stalker who steals his boxers and uses his shampoo.

Matt:

@deciphertheriddler

[misspickman]

Got the first mdzs book its time for me to finally read this wish me luck

[luvinelysia]

me after posting ch. 9 after saying i wont update

[hematomes]

SCRATCHES

...

[fesenmoon]

no fucking way

[yourangle-yuordevil]

what if we flirted at the gentlemen club 😳 (and we were both flirting) 😞❤️😞Discreet Gentlemen's Club

[ohno-the-sun]

Some thoughts about who Eclipse is exactly

[petricorah]

*azula's lightning going off in the background*

redrew this boiling rock scene taken by @sokkalore and @ultfreakme and then got distracted trying out new brushes

screencap under cut, ids in alt

[becca-e-barnes]

I need more of needy Bucky who loses control from the feeling of being inside your pussy. I need him to fuck me like a rag doll and to carry me over his shoulder around the house like his personal flesh light.

Fuck, this has always been one of my very favourites to write. I really like to imagine that he struggles to last but he can keep going after he finishes 🙈 it's my lil filthy fantasy

But imagine spending the morning in bed with him. You both wake up around 6am and you spend the first little while just touching and chatting before a couple of hours of sex. Now it's maybe around 11am and after lying there together for a while, you're both in the mood for something to eat.

You pull a robe around you and that's just about as much as you manage before Bucky's scooped you up, carrying you to the kitchen.

"You don't need to carry me everywhere!" You tease, remembering that he'd carried you up the stairs to bed last night too.

"I know. But. Carrying you means. I. Can put you. Exactly. Where. I want you." He peppers kisses over your face and neck, tenderly capturing your bottom lip between his before he sets you up on the kitchen countertop.

There's no point arguing with him so you sit there quite happily. He makes up a quick pancake mix, washes some berries from the fridge, preps the coffee machine and sets the little dining table for the two of you.

Somewhere in between, you got a little distracted, perched on the counter scrolling on your phone. You hadn't noticed the way he's looking at you.

He's so caught up in the little things; the way the light hits your shoulder, the curve of your hips, the way the silhouette of your nipples are visible against the satin robe.

"Look at you, sitting there all sweet like your cunt isn't so fucking full of me."

That's got your attention.

You squirm a little, your body fluttering at how shamelessly vulgar he's being but nothing's stopping you from doing the same.

You spread your legs, exposing the slick mess coating your inner thighs. It's a mixture of your own arousal and Bucky's cum, dripping out of your sensitive cunt.

Your fingertips trail lazily over your exposed sex, your skin glistening in the natural light before you bring your fingers to your own lips, sucking them clean, giving him a little bit of a show.

"Tastes amazing, sweetheart." You groan, noticing the growing bulge in his thin pyjama bottoms. "But I lost track of how many times you came inside me this morning. You came so deep, most of your cum won't have dripped out yet. Bet I'm still totally stuffed full."

He sinks to his knees in no time, settling his head between your thighs, breathing in the faint smell of your arousal. His tongue presses flat to your sex, trailing from your hole to your clit and back, gathering as much of your combined release as possible.

He groans, low and pathetic, allowing his tongue to dip inside you as deep as he can bury it. He savours every drop of cum he earns back from your body.

When his tongue alone isn't enough, he slips a finger into you, followed quickly by a second, curling them against your sensitive inner wall.

"Bucky baby, please don't make me cum again." You groan, your fingers tangled in his dark hair but you know he's not giving you that choice. Not when his free hand is furiously stroking his own cock, desperate to ensure that when he's finished licking his cum out of you, he can flood your cunt with another load.

[moodyspoodys]

One time a Wesker really wanted me dead, all it took was a few flashbangs (I was guilty as charged)

[the-tired-commander]

[throwing-summers-at-the-walls]

[markscherz]

Which frog is well-dressed but well-armed as well?

Personally I have huge respect for someone who commits to a suit that is all one colour, and centrolenid frogs (glass frogs) commit pretty hard to that style, though with occasional polka-dots for good measure. But don't let their high fashion fool you. They are very well armed—at least for battles with each other. Many glass frogs possess fearsome humeral spines; sharp extensions of the upper arm.

[src]

[src]

So they're pretty literally well-armed.