#trying to write today

[miraclegel]

When he's done, he rolls his sleeve back down, and then uses the skink to scrub the drying tears from his face

noct stop abusing lizards like that

[grumpyoldsnake]

Excellent timing.

Tidying the desktop* and ran across this just sitting there. Might as well post it.

*I had no choice. There was no more space for icons. :)

[chongoblog]

Writing tip: As you write your stories you might hear the voice of Jeremy CinemaSins saying something like “these two characters are talking in a cave? And yet they can see everything that they need to see for the story just fine?” When you do (and this is so so important), kill that voice with hammers

[fandoms-writings]

come talk to me about ceramics-professor!bucky or boxer!miguel? <3

[becca-e-barnes]

Bucky pinning you down so you can’t squirm and he’s just sitting inside you while he tortures your clit feeling you clench around him. He makes you cum over and over until he finally cums.

Overstimulation + super soldier stamina = …

- 🍯

Dear God, I know I just don't have it in me to behave during cock-warming. When it comes down to it, I genuinely have no patience at all 😵‍💫

"You..." Bucky begins, pressing you down onto the bed before gripping your ankles and forcing you to flip over onto your front. "Have a problem with control."

With your face turned away from him, you can't help but smile to yourself. No one has ever said it out loud but you know he's right.

Being in control is where you're most comfortable. No hands are safer than your own. Except maybe his. You know he won't fuck this up.

"And you..." He continues, gathering your wrists behind your back, holding them tightly with one hand. "Need to learn how it feels to have control taken from you. Do you understand?"

As soon as you begin to nod your head, you feel him start to tape around your wrists, holding them together behind your back. Once he's content they're secure, he sits on the edge of the bed, facing the mirror before he pulls you onto his lap.

"Legs spread over the top of mine." He orders and you do as you're told, not because you have to but because you want to.

You notice the way your cunt is already glistening in the mirror and you're almost embarrassed because he hasn't even touched you yet.

"Fuck, you're made for this." He groans, lining his cock up to your slick entrance and you wonder if he's holding his breath too while he slides into you, as deep as your bodies will allow.

You're obsessed with the sight in front of you; your own naked body, with your legs spread so far apart you can see how your cunt is stuffed full of him.

Being shorter though, your feet can't touch the ground like this. There's no way you'll get enough leverage to fuck yourself on him but as soon as you start to tell him that, he silences you with two thick fingers between your lips.

"I'm not letting you fuck me." His free hand roams over your body, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples and then settling between your spread thighs.

"I'm going to play with you. I'm going to see how much you can take. I'm going to work out exactly how you like your clit stroked and I'm going to do that until your legs are shaking and your body won't let you cum any more. Maybe then I'll fuck you but sweetheart, that will be hours from now." His breath is hot against the side of your face, his fingers slipping from your mouth to your waist while he starts to flick gently against your clit.

"I'm going to start slowly. I'm going to do everything I can to drag this out as long as possible. I can feel every clench and flutter of this pretty little cunt and I'm going to enjoy it until you're dripping over my balls." At this rate, it won't be long until you're dripping onto the carpet, never mind over him. You dreamed he'd want to take control like this but you never imagined the way your body would respond.

"And then, when you've cum more times than you can handle, I'm going to tell you that I love you while I fuck you like I don't."

Update: Part 2

[anonymous-harpy]

This has been on my mind all fuckin day for some reason...

[sadgayeddie]

You might need to make some room for some more items.

[bluerosefox]

Saying Sorry Will Never Be Enough

Feeling a bit angsty so I had this idea.

Danny is dating one of the Bats/Birds, and everything is going great, amazing even! They know each other secrets (from powers to everything etc), they have a wonderful place to live (even if its in Gotham), Danny is in college on the way to becoming a space engineer (and he does side jobs for unrestful ghosts), he's actually getting sleep again since leaving Amity Park, gets along with their friends and family (those who Danny or his partner still talk to, up to the writer), there is even talk about marriage and perhaps adoption/kids in the future between Danny and the Bat/Bird he's dating!

Everything is setting up for a good life in his future, something Danny didn't think could have after his accident. He was happy finally, and currently packing up his old apartment because he's moving in with his partner in a few days.

So he felt like his core was being pulled out of him when he opens his apartment door one day receiving a knock to find his parents, who had hadn't seen since they kicked him out of the house after coming clean about being Phantom (their words of anger and denial that their son was 'dead' and now a monster, still hurt)

Sure they didn't attack him or proclaim he's dead but still their last words and anger HURT.

Danny didn't give them a chance to open their mouths, both looking nervous and guilty, before he slams the door close and turns invisible, grabs his phone, and fly's out of his apartment to his partner's place in a panic attack.

His partner, isn't happy.

[northstarscowboyhat]

Corn picking day.

[bcystar]

you were on the floor.

your knees were to your chest and your tears flowing nonstop.

joaquín gently rattled his key in the lock and opened the door. he was drenched. his boots squeaked as he shuffled in as quietly as he could. he scoped around the kitchen and living room, looking for a box. the box that was the cause of all of your tears. all of your pain.

it held so many of the items you held close to your chest for the last five years. the hoodies and sweats that always kept you warm in lack of joaquín’s presence, his little trinkets he found at random shops while deployed or on missions, gadgets he’d made when he had too much free time. what hurt most was the ring you’d grown to love so much for the last two years of your relationship.

joaquín had to go on an emergency mission right after the break up. it gave you enough time to pack up and isolate his belongings from yours. you’d saved your favorite items of his for last, too attached to them. only when you’d taped that cursed box did you realize what your life was now. no more of joaquín’s warm and protective arms holding you anymore, no more of his loving kisses that you were obsessed with, but most importantly, no more of the person who loved and knew you most.

your confidant. almost life partner. you’d planned your entire future together. he’d said “i don’t care how many kids we have, as long as i have you with me.”, all you could do was smile at him. you’d wanted a quiet life away from commotion. he’d promised it to you, as if it’d kill him if he didn’t get you everything you wanted. he wanted two dogs and a cat, and an alpaca. he never explained why and you giggled at his nonchalance on it.

the two of you had minimal contact while he was on this mysterious mission. he came back after two weeks. you didn’t leave your apartment once. just stayed watching the wall. sometimes moving to the balcony to look at the bustling city of Washington D.C. you only started packing his things after the third day. first his clothes and shoes, leaving a pair of pajamas and a decent outfit, then his electronics, then everything else, and then the box.

his sister had came by with two of their other cousins to collect the boxes. they’d stuck around for a bit after hauling all of the boxes onto the moving truck that they’d rented. you were close. of course you were close. you were basically family. you’d been at countless birthdays, baby showers, weddings, and gatherings alike. of course they were worried. you shook off their worries with a forced bright smile and affirming words, promising them you were alright. with much reluctance, they left, only after giving you one last bone crushing hug.

he rounded the corner to the room you were basically hiding in. hiding from what? you had no idea. maybe if you didn’t leave, joaquín wouldn’t either. that way you wouldn’t lose each other. he twisted the door handle but didn’t open the door. he left it closed. scared of seeing the bedroom stripped of him. every bit of himself that he’d brought to your life and home taped in a box, on its way back to Miami. “you okay in there?”

you stayed quiet.

“i’m coming in.”

you made no attempt to hide your tears. this was not the worst joaquín had seen you. he’d seen you through everything. nonetheless, no feeling could compare to the sight before him. your eyes were bloodshot—almost as if someone had poked your eyes—and snot was running down your nose. your lips quivered and you breathed little ragged breaths to calm yourself. you were a mess, you both could see it, you just didn’t want it to be too obvious.

“there’s the last of your stuff,” you nodded your head to point towards the box.

“I washed all of the clothes and cleaned everything else in the box, don’t worry.”

your voice was quiet. broken. as if someone had peeled away at the joy from you like paint on a wall. that someone was joaquín, and he did it without even realizing. guilt spread through his body like water to paper and he too could feel tears. “i’m sorry.”

you looked up.

“sorry for what? for saving people? for being a hero?”

“for not being able to keep my promises to you.”

he walks towards you and crouches to your level.

“i promised you a quiet life. far far from here, from the villains and the monsters. i promised you our cat and dogs. a future.”

“don’t beat yourself up, hero life follows you around like a tail.” you let out a broken chuckle.

“it was no excuse for me to not uphold my promise.”

for a moment everything went still. all the resentment and anger that you’d built up against him during his absence seemed to disappear. he was so certain that he was going to marry you. he’d wanted peace and quiet with you. you’d wanted it back with him.

“I’d beg you to stay but i know this is what’s best for us. that no matter how many promises we make to each other, there’ll never be a guarantee. you’re busy falcon-ing and i’m busy not. i need you quino, but i want you to myself, and unfortunately, the world needs you. so you go out there and you kick some bad guy ass, when you decide that you’ve had enough, i’ll be right here. that’s one thing i can guarantee you.” you cup his face with both of your hands and give him a smile. weak, but there.

you rest your foreheads together, your tears starting to slow. you breath in sync, feeling each other for the last time. not feeling physically but emotionally. sharing one last intimate moment.

his face starts to angle closer and closer to yours. you know what he’s doing, you desperately need him to do it. his mouth is a breath away, your heart is beating in anticipation. he pauses just before you make contact, an unsure pause, as if he thought you didn’t want it. you close the gap between you two, assuring him that you do want it. that you do want him.

his movements are slow and shaky. your hands remain on his cheeks and his come to cup yours too. it’s raw. no hurry, no anger, no hard feelings. just two lovers saying their last goodbyes without words. neither of you move. his taste is so sweet, you could be hung on his lips forever. his lips were slightly chapped, nothing you couldn’t handle. they were something you’d grown quite fond of throughout your relationship. he was unlike anyone else you’d ever been with. his kisses were definitely unlike anything you’d ever felt.

it almost killed you to pull away. he opened his eyes to look at you but you kept yours closed. you knew if you opened them you’d see the tears flowing down his face. you’d see the pure dejected look on his eyes that always held joy in them. of course you wanted to see him for the last time, it’s the face of your true love looking at you with pure devotion. joaquín torres is known for being a joyful. his happy go lucky attitude and positivity is basically his trademark. so you almost felt special knowing that you were the only person to see him like this. teary eyed and broken.



[archivewriter1ont]

Cadet Batch Incorrect Quotes

Cadet Hunter: Echo, my head hurts.

Echo: Here you go. *gives meds and a kiss on the head*

Cadet Tech: Echo! Can I take apart this datapad?

Echo: *board game appears out of thin air* Why don't you play with this instead, ad'ika?

Cadet Wrecker: Echo, Crosshair stuck his tongue out at me!

Echo: Crosshair, we don't do that. That's rude. Wrecker, get off of that table before you fall and hurt yourself.

Rest of the 501st: *side-splitting laughter*

Jesse: Look at Mama Echo! *takes a boot to the head* Hey!

Cadet Crosshair: *hissing, holding his second boot for shot two* Don't call Echo names!

Echo: It's not nice to throw shoes at people, Cross! But thank you. *pats him on the head*

Echo, to Rex: Yes, I have four kids now, and the bitey sniper one is my favorite.

[morgana-ren]

How do you think Shigaraki would react to a s/o who’s into him being a horny goblin around them? Like he gets caught sniffing their panties and they’re like “ah that’s all good, I sniff your boxers when you’re not around too.”

You know, it's been so much easier to creep on you since you moved into his quarters.

Before, he had to sneak— slink like a rat through the darkness of his own headquarters— just to get a peek at you. Sure, he saw you at meetings and occasionally around the building, but it wasn't enough to slake his needs.

Eventually, he needed more. And coincidentally, you moved up the ranks, taking on assignments from the boss in person. What an honour it must have been.

What an honour indeed.

Being the big head of the PLF had its perks. He had access to all sorts of information— including the dorm list. He was just curious, is all, to see how you lived. You were all business whenever he saw you. He just wanted to know the real you. He needed to know if it was what he imagined it would be like.

Besides, you have no idea how humiliating it is. He had to teach himself lockpicking just to gain access. Do you know how hard that is to do with only four fingers? It took five separate kits, since the others turned to ash.

He almost lingered overlong in your space. It smelled like you— your sheets, your clothing, the very essence of the room. Your computer, your books, the papers scattered across your desk, all of it the key to getting to know you.

Your closet taunts him out of the corner of his eye. He's never considered himself a filthy perverted creep, but he understands how it works. The soft silks and linens you keep tucked away beneath your uniform are soft to the touch, and it takes active effort not to rifle through to the bottom.

He resigns himself. It's happening, and he may as well come to peace with it. His legs won't move without something. Something more personal.

He needs something you won't miss. Perhaps something that got lost in the laundry.

The bin is filled with dirty uniforms and socks and various shirts, but that's not what he's looking for. If he's going to cross this line, he may as well fully cross it. He finds what he's looking for at the bottom of the whicker basket.

A small pair of cotton panties.

He bunches them in his hand, careful to keep his pinky away as he delves in, nose first. Gods above, there's nothing like it. The little glimpses and small scents he gets day in and day out are nothing compared to your pure essence, undiluted and straight from the source of his most wretched fantasies.

His iron will keeps him from abusing them right then and there— you'll be back soon, after all— and so he leaves your room exactly as he found it... Mostly.

Plus, he wants to savor them before he ruins them. Wear out your scent entirely before he defiles them with his own.

You seem none the wiser to his antics. You don't stare at him or look at him any differently, still saluting him and obeying his orders without question. That's why it takes him by surprise when you approach him one night with a request.

"Bold," he says, blinking slowly as he stares you down from his throne. "Of you to ask such a thing from your boss."

"I know!" You smile, some sly glimmer in your eyes. "You're free to say no."

"In case you've forgotten, we're wanted villains in the middle of a war. Do you think now is the best time for such a foolish request?"

"That's why I asked. Never know if we're going to see tomorrow. Might as well ask for what I want, right?"

He doesn't say no. He couldn't, even to keep up the facade.

"I'll think about it. I'm busy."

"Very well, sir," you salute him, turning on your heel. He doesn't see the smile on your face.

Dinner. You wanted dinner with him.

He doesn't allow himself to get excited. He was right, after all. He's Japan's most wanted criminal overlord and villain, and frankly, he should be focused on more important matters. Not to mention this could be business related. Maybe you're after a promotion (oh, he'd give it to you) or maybe you want something from the PLF (and fuck, he'd make you earn it.)

He accepts, like he always knew he was going to.

God, you're lovely. Out of your uniform and in some silly little black number that you must've saved for such an occasion. He wonders if you have another pair of lacy panties on underneath, and just how he can get his hands on them—

(The other pair is soiled with his seed, and he's overdue for his daily dose of you.)

He can't exactly take you out somewhere nice— it's not his style anyway— but he can try to impress you with his power. He settles for a nice dinner outside of the cantina, in his personal quarters.

It's chilling to have you so close to where he sleeps— to where his dirty little secret is stashed in the nightstand drawer next to the lotion and box of tissues.

"Forward," you grin. "Bringing me straight to your room."

"Don't need prying eyes," he offers up nonchalantly— he hopes. "And there's no where nicer than my personal rooms in the base."

"Oh, I'm not complaining. It's nice in here. Nicer than our rooms. Not to imply that you'd know what those are like, sir."

He doesn't turn red beneath the curtain of silver hair. He doesn't.

"You can call me Shigaraki, seeing as it's under the circumstances. Or Tomura, if you'd like."

"Okay, Tomura," you smile at him, and he wants to hear your name from his lips all over again. Over and over and over, cried like a chant to some dark God.

Dinner goes well, he thinks. He says next to nothing. Neither do you. Perhaps you're nervous (he isn't, he is not. He's the leader of the PLF and the most notorious villain and he doesn't get nervous over dinner with a girl.) You smile coyly at him every so often, something behind your eyes that he can't make out.

He excuses himself for a moment. He needs to breathe. The wretched butterflies in his gut won't allow him rest, and he needs to recoup and restrategize. All of this is so new to him. He's never been on a date before, and there's so many questions. All his knowledge is secondhand.

What if you just like him for his power? Are you looking for a free ride? You don't seem the type of girl, but humans are deceptive creatures. What if you're just after free food? What if you're a spy or an assassin sent to get him alone or relay information to the heroes? There's too many variables.

He resigns himself to outright asking. He should be able to glean if you're lying.

As he steps out of the bathroom, he sees you, and by all things unholy, he could just fall dead on the spot.

You're sitting on his bed, holding your sodden panties between your fingertips, staring at them with a strange expression. You'd rifled through his belongings and found his secret.

He nearly dies of embarrassment, only the tactical part of him remaining calm. He can't afford to have this get out. He'll have to kill you before you can scream. It's the last thing he wants, but he cannot jeopardize everything over this. Wait, maybe he can lock you away—

"What do you think you're—"

"Dirty boy," you simper playfully. "I had a feeling when I lost them."

"You aren't—" Tomura pauses, totally blitzed by your reaction and unsure of what to do. He steps forward, but doesn't go to ash you— not yet.

"Angry? Not at all. Surprised, actually. I wasn't sure what you were doing in my room when I saw you on my computer camera. I thought you might think I was a spy or some kind of turncoat. I wanted dinner to try and talk things out before I got turned to ash without even being able to try to talk some sense into you. Seems like it's something a little more personal, though."

So you're not a spy. That's a relief. What isn't a relief? The unknown factor of the situation. How you're going to react.

"What now?" He swallows hard, so out of his depths that it isn't even funny. He never thought in a million years this would happen. He thought you'd be furious. Thought you'd try to go to the brass beneath him and file a complaint immediately. He thought he'd have to lock you away forever—

"Well," you set the panties back on the nightstand, standing to face him. "I have a few ideas. I could turn you in for being a total creep, or—"

He's ready to defend himself as you lunge at him. What he isn't prepared for is your lips smashing against his, your arms around his neck. He gasps in sheer shock, and your tongue slowly worms between his teeth, mingling with his own. His hands find your waist, oh so careful to keep his pinkies away even as he longs to drag you deeper into him.

"I don't mind, Tomura," you sigh between kisses. "I never thought you'd notice a girl like me, so below your station. Below you."

He says nothing— he can't. He's too lost in the taste of you on his tongue. He holds you close, tugging you into his chest, savoring the feel of you pressed against him.

"If you want me, I'm yours," you sigh into him.

Never in a million years did he think it would go this way.

"Why?" He manages to ask through heaving breaths. "I don't understand."

"Because you're you— you're strong and capable and intelligent and right. I've always been on your side, but being around you— I like you, Tomura."

"Even though I—"

From what he knows, girls aren't usually fans of people who creep on them.

"What can I say? Maybe I like them a little creepy and perverted," you giggle, and he stares at you through round, shocked eyes. "Maybe I am too."

It had been like that ever since. You moved from your cramped quarters into something closer to his. He had an old supply closet converted into a bedroom for you in his personal area— he didn't want to pressure you into staying with him too soon, but he wanted you close— and safe. Girls don't like guys who pressure them, but they like men who keep them safe... Right?

(all his knowledge of girls comes from the internet and porn— which is to say no knowledge at all. He doesn't want to fuck this up royally, but he's so eager—)

Not that it much mattered anyways. He hadn't seen you much. The war had been ramping to a head, and he'd been busy trying to command his armies and keep the place sane. You'd been sent off on an undercover mission for weeks now, and every day you didn't return, his anxiety swells and his urge to kill everyone in his path to find you gets little stronger.

It isn't until he returns to his room one night, exhausted and damn near ready to combust from accumulated stress and over-worry that he finds you there, sitting on his bed—

—in nothing but your panties.

"You made it back," he says, vocal inflection not giving a single hint as to how out of his mind he was only moments prior. "And in one piece."

"Went a little over schedule, but everything went as planned."

You speak casually, as if you're not topless in your boss's personal room.

"And I wanted to see you."

"I see plenty," His dry humor is apparent as he scratches at the rounds of his neck, unsure of what to do with himself. His mediocre knowledge of relationships hadn't prepared him for this. Porn certainly did— but he didn't want to push. You being in here naked could mean a lot of things, right?

"Good," You stand from his mattress, skipping over towards him with a mirthful bounce to your step that makes your tits jiggle gloriously. Grabbing his hand, you place a gentle kiss to his fingers. It almost gives him a heart attack how nonchalant you are with the most dangerous hands in the world, and yet you're entirely unafraid— trusting that this villain would never hurt you.

"It was long. I thought of you every night," you whisper demurely. "I don't like being away for that long."

"I don't like it either."

He's trying so hard not to stare. It feels like walking a razor's edge. He feels like a creep; like some undisciplined little boy frothing at the mouth over the thought of a naked woman.

You roll your eyes at his denied curiosity, shoving him hard onto the bed and straddling his lap. "I want you to look, idiot. You think I showed up here with no clothes on accidentally?"

"But—"

"Here," You grab his hand, forcefully placing it on your breast. "Let me help you then."

It's soft and warm and tender in his hand, his thumb brushing gingerly over your nipple. It tightens into a bud as he does, a soft moan coming from your lips. You grind down on him, feeling him harden beneath his slacks, his cock straining against the zipper.

"There, see?" You heave, voice croaking. "Not so bad."

Not so bad, you say, not understanding just how dark and insistent his urges are and how terribly difficult it is to resist. If he had his way, he'd throw you over and take you again and again until you couldn't walk— couldn't even speak.

"Is this what you want?"

You chuckle, a devious grin overcoming your features. "What I want, Tomura, is to ride you until your knees buckle and you pop like warm champagne. My training gave me muscles you can only dream of, and I want to use every single one to drain you dry."

He's just about at his limit.

"Do you think you could do that for me, Shigaraki?" You hiss in his ear, gyrating your hips against his, teasing his hardness with your warm apex. "Do you think you could indulge all those nasty little fantasies I know you have kept locked away? The ones you think of when you cum all over those panties of mine?"

His eyes darken, and his hand finds your throat. You squeak in partial terror and excitement as he rolls you over, his other hand tearing off the flimsy fabric that keeps your cunt separated from the air.

"I think I could do that."

[today-in-the-bunker]

Today, Jack walks out to a nearby creek and admires the way the water has frozen around the foliage. They enjoy a few moments with the frosty nature before briskly walking back to the warmth of the bunker.

[hyacinthsdiamonds]

I'm sorry but the irony of Nico calling Max unprofessional is sending me so bad like sir there's an entire garage full of people, who were literally in the trenches trying to survive the Brocedes fallout while just doing their jobs, who might have a few things to say about your (& Lewis') level of professionalism at that time 😭✋️

[numbuh424]

new game, same toys

Rated T | 6,556 words | read on AO3

“I’ve been searching for you, Nate River.” Or, a string of heart attacks is traced back to a Shinigami who only wants a bit of L’s attention.

Day 1 of @dnrarepairweek | Prompt: SHINIGAMI

Light is reincarnated as a Shinigami AU. Even without his memories of being human, he finds his way back to settle a score.

[spottedenchants]

coordinate conversion

~

Happy @cr-aspec-fest Week 3!

This week's prompt is Unconventional Relationships and my dear wizards have much to say about that :3

I'll have a short addendum to this for Week 4!