#//write 200 words

[ashlee-bonfamille-lyons]

ASHLEE"S LAST SUMMER IN SWYNLAKE (SUMMER MEMORIES TASK)

Family:

When I first got Ashlee, I never thought her story would be so focused on finding family and what that meant for her. Of course she always was a found family type of girl with the Ashleys, but to move on and find out that it wasn't healthy and make those steps to find the family that was meant for her is an aspect I'll always be so proud of for Ashlee. So this page is all about the family she had made, the way Simba smiles at her, the way Berlioz does. The fact their home is filled with such love that this page just radiates happiness. The pups and Juni because they are equally family and honestly who even knew Ashlee would get a pet if it wasn't for living with all the dogs in the Simber house. And of course smack dab in the middle, a picture that Ashlee would be so embarrassed by, but I like to think Simba took it and while she will pretend to be embarrassed, she remembers the love and it creates such a special moment for her that it ended up in a scrapbook.

Michael:

Ughhhh, I did not expect this one to hurt as much as it did. Michael was the perfect relationship for her. Someone so gentle and so kind. Someone with such big ambitions like herself and gosh darn it, she really did deserve this happiness before she left and that makes me so happy. Even if the ending was sad she would do it all over again because the heartbreak was worth it.

I like to think this summer they used their time wisely even before everything started to fall apart. They made moments happen although fleeting and took a number of pictures Ashlee could post on her Instagram and a lot of pictures Ashlee could just keep to herself. I love to think there's a note written from Michael that she has taped in there as well, Plus dried flowers that he had given her. This page might bring her a little heartbreak but she would have wanted to give him the proper space he deserved.

Nemo:

I originally put him with the friends but honestly, Tiny Dancers has been the biggest relationship Ashlee's had while in the group. From her first day (minus a week?) to her last, Nemo has been such a good influence in her life and it was probably one of, if not my favourite friendship to date. They went through so much and yet never for a second did I doubt they would come out of it stronger. There has always been something about Ashlee and Nemo where they were so intertwined I couldn't imagine the story I would have told without him right there.

The pictures I used were of course some of Kaycee and Sean but it's also about being passionate and just plain goofy. Nemo is one of her safe places and he's definitely seen so many embarrassing and silly moments of hers, the same way she has seen him be silly and loved it about him.

Friends:

A couple of these are just just pictures of Ashlee's fc with her friends, but it felt important to me to show just how far she had come, from becoming friends with Ian, despite their past, or finally willing to be vulnerable with Eilonwy and to trust her, the relationships Ashlee has created in the past couple years have such a special part of my heart. Because of her past so many people had to trust her and Ashlee had to return that feeling despite how vulnerable that made her. I'm just so glad she was able to create those moments and connections

I like to think EIlonwy celebrated both Ashlee's wins of a new job and her wins of the showcase and one of these could be it. Or maybe its after the showcase and Ashlee has gotten Eilonwy flowers. Ian's is all about animals and maybe just making time for each other in anyway including stopping at his work and being introduced to the animals that are there. She definitely would have taken a pic in the moment and when he wasn't paying attention. I also include Jenny in a way to show her growth because Jenny should have caused her anxiety, Ashlee should have disliked her as a girl coming into her space that would take Simba and Berlioz's love, instead Ashlee liked her, they hung out and well that was a huge step for her.

Summer Showcase:

The Showcase is the one I had to end on, I've done endings for characters before but there's something about this showcase, leading up to it, getting it ready from just an idea that makes it so special. Including all the people that volunteered for it. While it hasn't happened in canon and I could wait to post this one but I can't hold onto this task that long and so this is me predicting the moments in it. You have Ashlee and Nemo with mics because they are leading the event and presenting people. You have the art auction and the flowers Ashlee is giving everyone. You have a moment on stage that someone snapped and Ashlee needed a picture of it.

Over all this task is about Ashlee making her last summer be the best one it can be before she leaves and taking the most pictures because she wants to remember everything.

[after-witch]

A Snowy Interlude [Yandere Illumi x Reader]

Title: A Snowy Interlude [Yandere Illumi x Reader]

Synopsis: You play in the snow--a rare treat.

Word count: 1418

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, mentions of past abuse

“Are… you… sure this is… allowed?”

Even if it weren’t cold, your words would have come out slow and almost stuttered. But the cold air doesn’t do anything to help the eloquence of your speech, which comes out haltingly, words carefully chosen and accompanied by puffs of your whitened breath. 

Illumi’s face remains, as almost always, impassive.

“What do you mean, allowed?” He asks, finally, watching as you take each piece of winter clothing from the standing butler and slip them on. Gloves, a scarf, a hat, all fitted perfectly to your form. 

It would have been nicer to put them on before stepping out into the winter air, but you hadn’t been outside in months, and you weren’t going to complain about a thing. He did have you step into winter boots first, at least, and a winter coat. 

“I just mean,” you reply, watching as the butler gestures for you to step into a pair of thick, puffy snow pants–the kind you used to wear as a kid, “I haven’t been outside in… a while.” 

Your voice warbles as you hold onto the butler’s arm support and step into the puffy pants; butlers were the only other people you were allowed to touch, besides Illumi. Even then, they knew to never touch first; you could touch them like furniture, like a useful thing. 

Illumi hums. “No, you haven’t. I felt it inappropriate for you to be outside.” 

You don’t comment–you don’t want him to elaborate and change his mind. Or worse, decide that it is inappropriate for a newly-minted Zoldyck wife to step outside the mansion looking like an oversized marshmallow.

Once you’re dressed, the butler stands aside, and you let your gaze wander across the garden. 

It had really been snowing. Illumi had let you sit at the window watching as the flakes fell, thin and almost rain-like at first, but then gradually getting thicker and fluffier as the day went on. It snowed for almost three days straight and now the entire estate looked like something out of a pretty winter story–the roofs all covered in white, the same pretty sparkling white that covered the ground and went up past your knees.

It was all waiting, just beyond the cobblestone path leading back inside the estate. It had been neatly shoveled out and you tried to picture the butlers shoveling it bit by bit, as your neighbors were no doubt doing back home. Well. What had been home, before all this. 

Illumi doesn’t make to move, and you give him an awkward look. 

“Um. So. Can I… go out there?” It’s a silly question, you realize. Why get you all dressed up for being outside if you were just going to stand on the shoveled path? Oh. Well. Actually. Maybe it's not so silly, and Illumi was just being irritatingly over-protective about the cold.

And perhaps you’re right to question it, because Illumi’s eyebrows furrow. Just a little. Just enough to notice.

“Oh,” he says, as if he hadn’t considered it. He pauses, and you wonder if this is it, your time outside will just be spent standing at staring. “... Yes. I suppose that’s all right.”

Something like happiness prickles your chest and you step away from the shoveled cobblestones, boots sinking into the deep snow. The sound of each step is so familiar, so nostalgic; the swish of your snow pants with every movement, the soft crunching of the snow, the way it yields underneath your boots.

Your smile grows without you realizing it as you make your way into the garden, arms out at your sides for balance. How long is it since you’ve been in the snow like this? Even before Illumi took you, it wasn’t like you had the time for it. 

You were a kid, surely. Maybe 12 or 13, the last time it was still considered cool to dress in bulky outerwear and trudge your sled up to the neighborhood sledding hill. 

A sense of wonder overtakes you, and it feels like the past few months are left behind you, standing alongside Illumi and the butler–the training, the pain, the burns, the bruises, the broken arm and fingers. The instructions and etiquette and rules, rules, rules. 

How could they come with you, as you begin to trudge–happy then happier–through the snow? 

It’s so thick you feel like if you fell down, you’d be lost in it. Maybe you’ll sink to the ground. Maybe you could make a snow angel–or a cave. The urge to fall overtakes you as it so often did in childhood and you simply plop backward in the snow. The thump hides the sound of Illumi rushing forward, though perhaps he would have known how to run through the snow silently anyway.

When you look up, you see Illumi, of course. But beyond that is what you’re interested in: the sky above you, all blue and lovely. There’s whiteness, too, the sparkling prettiness of the snow all around you. Some of the cold has seeped underneath your coat and scarf, burning your ears. But you don’t mind.

Of course, you’re eventually forced to acknowledge him, and you finally let your gaze focus on Illumi. He’s leaning down, his hair almost becoming a black curtain.

“Why did you fall?” He looks–almost concerned, you think. “Are you having a heart attack?” It’s funny, really, the way he phrases his so calmly. If you weren’t becoming somewhat decent at reading him, you might think he was joking. 

He’s not. So–

You blink up at him.

Then you move your arms and legs up and down, up and down, making a snow angel underneath you.

Illumi blinks back.

“Perhaps you’ve had a stroke.”

You grin, then, and clutch a handful of snow underneath your gloves. 

“I didn’t, to both. Haven’t you ever made a snow angel?” You ask, curling the snow together, beginning to form a ball and idly wondering if you’re brave enough to do it.

Illumi straightens his back, and looks at the impressions of snow you’ve left behind your arms and legs. He doesn’t seem impressed.

“No. I haven’t.”

Something pangs inside you, and a question floats up: what kind of childhood did Illumi have, anyway? Maybe he never played in the snow. Never made a snow angel, never spent hours digging out a snow cave with friends. Never slid down a hill and bashed into a tree and it hurt but it was fun all the same.

It must have been hard. 

Your fingers curl around your newly made snowball and instead of chucking it as his face, you sit up, and start pulling in more snow to make it bigger.

“What are you doing?”

You don’t answer. Instead you keep going, scooping, gathering, and rolling until you’ve got the makings of a fantastic snowman butt.

“Are you going to answer me?” There’s enough of a sharp pin in his tone and you hoist yourself up, using the round snowman butt as leverage.

“I’m making a snowman,” you answer. “But all I’ve got is the butt.” You gesture to your creation, stalling for the time needed to create the words, to ask the question. Surprising, how hard it is to ask Illumi to do something like this.

“If you want, you could… get some gloves and join me?” 

Illumi looks around you, at the disheveled mess you’ve made of the pristine fallen snow, at the clumps of snow clinging to your snow pants, your gloves, your hat. At the large round ball you’re proclaiming is a snowman butt.

At your face, beaming, carefree, in a way he’s never seen you look since before he took you.

“I don’t mind the cold,” is all he says, before he leans down and begins to mimic the way you scooped snow together. 

It doesn’t hold. He’s awful at it. And you do something you’ve never done before, at least, not on your own initiative–you place your gloved hands over his and curl your fingers in the right way, so that the snow gets packed together properly.

Illumi goes still, and you pretend not to notice, because you think he’d rather you didn’t. 

Instead, you keep on making your snowman, as Illumi slowly but surely gets the hang of it.

“I’m glad it snowed so much,” you say, quietly, cheerily, wondering if a butler could run inside to get carrots and something for the snowman to wear.

Illumi, in response, hums.

It’s as close as you’ll get to agreement. 

[seravphs]

modern intimacy —

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GOJO x FEM READER

Gojo watches you get ready for your anniversary date. 

tags — married au, Gojo is the annoying type that doesn’t have to do any skincare or makeup to look good, so he’s doubly interested in your routine

“What’s that one?” 

“It’s mascara.”

“Huh. Okay, what’s that?” 

“It’s blush, honey.” 

“Can I try?” 

“Try it on?” You look up at him, surprised. Gojo, being Gojo, always looks perfect. You’re not sure what he would need makeup for. 

“Can I try putting it on you?” 

When you shrug, Gojo grins eagerly and pulls you onto his lap. You did not agree to that, but you let it slide. He takes the little compact in one hand and your fluffy brush in the other. His tongue peeks out in concentration as he taps rouge onto your cheeks. 

You catch a glimpse in the mirror against his protests. No wonder why-

“I look like a clown!” You protest. 

“But my adorable little clown,” he says. 

“Don’t try to wriggle your way out of this one! Give me that-“ you snatch your makeup back. 

You wince at you stare into the mirror once more. It’s useless. Your base is completely unsalvageable. You’ll have to start all over. 

“It’s fine,” Gojo drawls. “I’ll just get us another reservation.” 

You turn gleaming eyes on him and lift your blush brush. 

“Hey, wait!”

[creativepromptsforwriting]

May Writing Challenge

This May I want to get back into writing. I’m not at all consistent. I’m at a point where I don’t feel like I can work on bigger things, because I can’t guarantee myself to keep working on it in a week from now. So I will take this month as a training month to get back into the habit of writing. I will do this by writing (or trying to write) 200 words every day. Topic is irrelevant. How great my writing is that day is irrelevant. Just 200 words written down. A habit taking 21 days to form was debunked, it does take a lot longer, but 31 days are a start I would say. These are already 140 words, so 200 words every day are hopefully manageable. You're more than welcome to join me if you like 😊

[uc1wa]

18+ minors dni

OCT. 17 — KINKTOBER ‘23

KNIFE & GUN PLAY WITH JASON TODD

ktober m.list

tags: fem reader, blood, gun play isn't gorey, penetrative sex, cum play for a second, possessive jason, reader calls jason daddy once, (if i missed any pls message me!)

jason hesitated only slightly when you had mentioned having rougher sex. took a beat to read your face one night after dinner when the topic was somehow brought up, a tilt of his head and arch of his brow following.

it wasn’t like the two of you were purely vanilla when it came to your bedroom tendencies. you started by asking jason to choke you, your hand placing overtop of his to press harder—clearly nervous of his strength and your limits. then, jason tested out slapping… and with the way your pussy clenched around him, it was safe to say there was a green light in front of that too.

but… when you were playing with the switchblade that the man kept in his pocket when you had run the blade over your fingers gently, and the words, "i wouldn’t be upset if you used this in bed," fell from your tongue, jason could only smirk to himself.

"want me to put a lil’ tattoo on you princess?" he asks, holding his hand out in asking for the blade, to which you hand to him. you nod with a grin, lifting up the thin fabric of your pajama shorts. the soft flesh of your upper thigh being exposed, your fingers running over the skin. "right here," you say, the skin right under the hem of your panties being traced with your fingertip.

you look from the skin between your hip and thigh to jason who’s sat in front of you, his eyes darkening as he looks at your skin. the hand that’s not holding the blade grabs the soft flesh, squeezing it and giving it a little tap.

"'jason’s'… how does that sound?" green eyes meet yours, his demeanor changing to one of those that says he's ready to pounce on you at any given second. "mhm, mark me up. wouldn’t be your first time," you nod with a laugh, pulling up your top to show one of your boobs, a dark purple love mark sucked into the skin from two days prior.

jason tilts his head in thought, questioning if he should hold out on telling you his desire that followed yours. the desire that has just reached the front of his mind, a thought that only a questionable vigilante who's killed hundreds would have. his eyes trailed over your body as he does so, to which you scrunch your eyebrows. "yes?" he holds a momentary finger up at you as he silently walks away, making his way into your bedroom without a word.

a few minutes go by, your attention is turned to the television until the man walks back into the room. nothing has changed about him, besides the fact that he’s holding a hand behind his back. one end of jason’s lips is tugged upwards despite the nervousness to reveal the idea he was keeping away from you.

he takes a seat, sweatshirt bunching up around his hips as he brings his arm forward. now your eyes widen—excited and nervous yourself. the hesitation is understandable, as any other sane person would most likely make a run for it.

the shiny, clean metal was one you’d only seen when jason had come home from being the red hood. when he had come off of patrol and you were in the rarity of being awake at the late hour of the night, watching him strip himself of his vigilante clothing and tools. the tools he had hidden in the back of your shared closet, several locks attached as a safety measure.

the mechanism that your boyfriend had used hundreds of times—either to take a life or to severely hurt another. now, holding it in front of you, his eyes never leaving your face.

"why not both?" he asks, turning the gun to show you that the safety is on, continuing to open the slots where bullets would be found and showing that it was clear of any possibilities of harm.

while jason was around guns and every possibility of weaponry on a daily basis, you weren’t. but, you weren’t opposed to the idea, and the way your heart rate quickened and your underwear started to get wet was proof of that.

with wide eyes you nod and stand up to take jason’s hand, leading you to the room that you were normal to experimenting in.

you both were quick to strip yourselves of clothes, your mind occupied with ways that you could make use of the gun, finally landing on the one thing that you know jason would like.

on a carpet in front of your bed, you fall to your knees on the ground below you, hands sitting pretty and expectantly on your thighs. wide eyes watch your boyfriend smirk at the way you’re ready for him, finding his space in front of you, standing tall and proud with the gun still in his hand.

if jason hadn’t cleaned his guns religiously, you wouldn’t dare to put the one in his hand anywhere near you—god knows what would lie on the surface of it. but, jason took care of them as if they were his prized possession, the same way he took care of you.

so, he places the gun in front of him, right where his cock would usually fall if you were to suck him off. instead of him, though, your tongue slips between your lips to find the tip of the gun, letting it lay flat against the underside of the cool metal while his cock stands proudly behind it.

his eyes stay pointed downwards, watching the way you wrap your lips around the cold metal. while his face doesn't read anything but focus, his internals are going off the charts. his cock hard as a rock while his heart beats faster and faster in anticipation. anticipation of watching you suck his gun, and his cock, and fucking you with pretty metal touching your throat and scarlet running down your thigh from his idea of a tattoo.

while your soft lips left a salivated mess on the tip of jason's pistol, you decided to bring a hand to his member. thumb running over the tip, pleased to feel his pre and following suit in running down his length, beginning to slowly jerk him off. a soft smile tugging your lips when you watch his breath hitch in his throat from the contact.

like a flick of a light switch, jason's throwing the weapon to your bed with a shake of his head. helping you stand up with a hand holding your throat, forcing a choked whine to leave you because of the strength of your boyfriend. your eyes go wide when he leans down to face you, grip still holding the soft skin that coats your neck.

"i'm gonna give it all to you tonight, sweetheart. don't worry about that pretty head of yours, okay?" he questions, throwing you on the bed and finally releasing you, allowing you space and time to catch your breath while jason takes his time crawling between your legs that you oh-so gladly spread for him.

it should be a crime to be as wet as you are due to the minimal contact your boyfriends had with you. hardly laying more than a hand on you and dripping onto the bed without care, eyes meeting his dark ones and watching as he grabs the gun once more.

only this time, his confidence is at a high. all hints of hesitation leaving his body and the action of rubbing the opening of the gun between your folds is done selfishly. of course, he knows it feels good with the symphony of whines and moans you sing for him, but he can't help but to indulge in the sight alone. dark eyes watching the way your cunt flutters, begging to be penetrated rather than teased with the metal.

jason's hungry for everything you give to him.

"such a slut," he begins, locking eyes with you once more, "all wet from a fuckin' gun?" you babble something that sounds like a confirmation, and it makes jason scoff, halting his movements just where you need him; tip of his gun pressed and paused at your entrance. "beg for it."

your cheeks flush, turn red at the demand he makes. but, it's dumb to deny it. dumb to act like you won't fuck the killing machine that was just pressed to the puffy lips of your mouth.

"fuck me with it, please," you say lightly, knowing it's not enough, but wanting to push jason further. after all, he said he'd give it all to you tonight, so you'll make him prove it.

his voice grows deeper, louder and he nudges your clit that begging for attention with the metal, allowing weight to fall on it which makes you squirm under his harsh gaze. "fuckin' pathetic... fuck you with what?"

your eyes roll back, hips rolling forward in attempt to move the dead weight that is the gun and gain some stimulation. but, it's to no avail. your eyes grow wide, swollen lips closing before opening once more. "please daddy, wan' you to fuck me with your gun. gonna feel so good, please please please," you press, and jason eats it entirely. angry red cock spilling with precum, milky streak falling against one of his veins.

"mhm, princess," he says, moving the gun downwards and pressing it to your entrance once more, slowly, eyeing the way your hole swallows the metal that pushes inwards until it can't anymore. the sweet moan is something he appreciates, though he knows the size is only a fraction of his cock that you're used to. but, the coolness of it does enough to feel foreign and good.

with a cocky smirk on his lips, he begins fucking you with the weapon. pulling it in and out of you slowly, but increasing in speed with each thrust he delivers; a big hand holding it with his index and middle finger holding the trigger subconsciously. aiming straight towards your cervix, which he'll touch soon enough.

and he fucks you well. fucks you with an arm that has pretty scars and newer cuts littering the skin. veins starting on the top of his hand and trailing to his forearm pumping blood that's evident in the way his cock is begging for attention. but he wants you to cum once on the gun. make a mess out of it in a way that's unlike anything he's ever experienced.

and once you're arching your back against blankets, moaning his name out in a near yell, and attempting to move a hand between your legs to get him to stop fucking you, stimulation too much, he finally gets what he wants.

jason's perverted thoughts cloud his head when he's slow to pull the gun out of you. looking at the metal that's covered in your milky essence. slow enough that there's a string of wetness that connects you to the weapon, and he could cum from that alone.

but the real finale is when he realizes that your cum is filling the barrel of the gun, filling the once-empty space with yourself. he brings it to your lower tummy, spilling the mess all over you in a manner that's filled with pure filth. proceeding to throw the gun to the side, acknowledging the fact that it's served its purpose for tonight. the pain of his hard-on is finally coming to his attention, and he needs to stuff his pussy.

"how'd that feel, gem?" he questions, moving against covers and watching your half-lidded eyes. both hands pull your thighs up so he can push them back, tip teasing your swollen entrance. "g-good," you whimper, and jason would be lying if he paid any attention to your response. your convulsing pussy is the only thing that has his attention right now, the way you're attempting to suck him whole.

and without warning, he's pushing his entire length between your legs, filling you whole and halting his movements once he's completely surrounded by your soft walls. groaning at the sensation of you clenching around him, but resisting moving his hips the way he wants to.

one hand remains gripping the fat of your thigh while the other grabs the switchblade lying on the mattress beside your pretty figure. flicking it open with his fingers, somehow making it look like an art while he's in the process of doing so. your attention follows it, almost forgetting that you're being stuffed full of jason's cock without movement. unwillingly cockwarming the man.

"remind me, baby. where'd you want my name?" jason's eyes move to meet yours, and without fail, a whimper slips past your lips and he feels the tightness that's close to making him hammer himself into you. but he has the patience and self-control that you don't.

his palm meets yours halfway, letting go of your thigh and letting his hand fall overtop of yours, smoothing over the top of your thigh. in the space that's dangerously next to where he's laid out inside of you, and it makes him more hungry for you if that was possible.

he's transferring his blade to the hand that's closer to the skin where you want it, tracing only enough for your skin to become a shade lighter under the pressure. once again looking up at you, he takes note of the way your lips fall open while anticipation grows in your eyes. it makes him smile wildly, a reminder that you want this. that you're the one who asked for it.

"'s gonna hurt," you whimper, and jason shakes his head, setting the blade on your thigh while his big hand takes your jaw in his hand, squishing your cheeks. "you can handle it, baby. c'mon, where'd my strong girl go?" a smile pulls your lips upwards. "it'll feel just like that tattoo you wanted, it's like a trial before the real thing." he leans towards you, holding back a groan from the way he pushes himself deeper inside your cunt to do so, giving you a sloppy and messy open-mouthed kiss.

then he's pulling back, blade in hand once more, and beginning to get to work. the whimpers are a symphony to his ears as he presses the sharp tip against your soft skin, cutting his name so pretty in your flesh. his eyes watch the way the deep red liquid peeks through the cracks, beginning to drip down the side of your skin. the hand that's not cutting his name into you is squeezing and rubbing the skin of your stomach soothingly.

his hips moving in small circles, enough to give the both of you something, but not enough to make him mess up his painting.

"so fucking pretty, honey," jason says as soon as he's finished, throwing the bloodied blade on the floor to clean up later. but his eyes are unable to see his finished work of art, and jason isn't one to waste.

pulling out of you with a moan, he leans down to the expanse of your thigh, licking over the blood with his tongue flat. he doesn't take note of how you sit up, your eyes widening at the stinging but warm sensation. you watch the way scarlet red coats his tongue, finding its way to the corners of his lips while he sits back up on his knees.

jason's cock stands tall as he uses his thumb to collect the blood from his lips, dark eyes watching yours as he sucks on his own digit. longer than needed, but he can see you like it; whether it be your fluttering cunt or your eyebrows that furrow. he laughs, knowing he's completed what had to be done in order for you to fully be his property.

because now jason's pretty slut girlfriend can't show her cunt to any other man without reading jason's name right beside it.

🏷️: @harleycao, @idyllcy, @hails227, @aviixol, @hopeannalea, @hearttjason, @roysjason, @blursotongz, @zaxlarza, @wartofart, @loviie-stuff, @nmw-am, @nightjarwings

[beanbagstab]

Sonamy bite-sized fics #1

Love Confession/

“Hey, hey it's okay, You don’t have to try so hard, Amy, I already love you.” 

Amy stared at him, stuck in place, slack-jawed, with glistening eyes quickly forming tears.

Sonic stared back at her unsure why she looked so surprised until he suddenly realized what he said. His face flared up in an intense red, he quickly turned his head to the side and scratched his cheek with one hand while the other one nervously rushed into his quills. 

“I-I didn’t mean it like that! No! Wait! I do! I-its just not in that way. B-But I did mean what I said before! Before I said I lo- before I said- you know- aw geez Amy, don’t cry on me now."

---

One day when they’re hanging out, Sonic just says I love you. He says it so casually and naturally he completely missed it as it left his traitorous mouth.

[theashemarie]

little Side Order double drabble

[thewrothode-if]

I've been stalking your page and if I saw correctly we might be able to top Gungir as a male MC? *Rubs hands together like a fly*🫳🏽

"Absolutely not," Gungir’s voice is harsh—sharp, cutting through the air like a final verdict. There's no room for argument, no chance to sway him.

"Please, Gungir. Only once!”

The both of you stand at the end of a bed. Gungir’s chest is bare, yet yours is not. The sight of his powerful form, tense and crossed has you frowning. But the hunger from his naked skin clouds your mind and you can’t help but focus on anything but.

“I do not want to.”

You pout, your gaze lingering on his arms, watching how they flex just above his godly chest. “But I do. It is always the other way around. It is not fair!”

"But you like it." His eyes snap to yours, widening slightly with a hint of panic. “…Right?"

You bite down a grin. “I do, but I want to try something new. If you do not enjoy it, I will never ask again.” You clasp your hands in front of your face and his. “Please, Gungir.”

He eyes them with pursed lips. The blue, usually lighter than sunlight, is now dark and dim. His lids are heavy with thought, and you feel yourself licking your lips at the sight because it’s so obvious lust lingers in the air between you.

Your hands are moist, the longer you hold on to the damp heat between your palms, the wetter they get. The apple in Gungir’s throat slowly bobs. Up, then down. And you know, just then, that you’ve won. A smirk slithers up your face. Gradually, you lower and unclasp your hands, careful so as not to scare the wide-eyed doe before you. But this isn’t enough for you. You need audible confirmation, you need him to say yes.

So you make your move. You can’t hold back anymore. Your nails dig into the skin of his waist, pulling him forward until you’re flush against each other. “Say it, Gungir,” you whisper in a single breath, hot against his ear.

You start simple, kissing the red between his neck, and he shudders, but doesn’t pull away. So you bite down, overcome with ache, and he flinches. “Sorry,” you say mindlessly, soothing the spot of possession with a messy strip of saliva.

His large hands encompass your back hesitantly. “You will be gentle… right?” he asks, his voice raw, and so genuinely innocent it has the heat between your legs tightening. Gods, he’s so different like this. So docile, so yielding.

“So fucking gentle.” You trail up his neck with sloppy kisses, making sure to mark him with the shine from your mouth. His beard is rough against your skin, and you live for the way it scratches your jaw. Impatiently, you make your way to his lips, but refuse to plant yours against his.

“Why?” he asks, his eyes hazily focused on your lips. It’s so obvious what he wants. His warm breath is shallow against your face. Your fingers trail down his spine, and to the indent just above his ass. There, you allow your hands to rest—to toy with the hem of his pants. Anything further requires that simple word, yes.

“I need you to say it, Gungir.” Your eyes meet his, and again, the apple in his throat bobs. His hands clench at your tunic.

You see how his head spins. His gaze is unfocused, and his words are breathy. “Say—say what?”

“You know what.” You lean forward, brushing the skin of your lips against his, but not enough for him—or you—to be satisfied.

“I, uh.” You crave moments such as these; where both your desires are at a standstill, and neither has the strength to make it flourish into something more. On the other side, pure pleasure awaits. The longer the wait, the stronger the pleasure will be. So you wait, and wait, and wait until you have him shaking with want. “Yes.”

A grin spreads across your face, and your lips finally meet. You kiss him with your tongue the captain. His moans and yours intertwine into the hot and stuffy air around you. Your hunger has you melting into his body until the both of you are one. You plunge your hand down his trousers, and he startles.

His composure falters, and his lips slow. It leaves you to pick up pace—a pace Gungir struggles to meet. You want to overwhelm him, see the red of his neck travel down to his chest, and up to his face.

You want him to beg for more.

And you always get what you want.

[frownyalfred]

thinking about how Gotham and Bruce/Batman are cursed and how slowly, over time, by bringing each sequential Robin into his care/mission he's inadvertently cursing them as well and how it would ruin Bruce if he ever knew

[kissesandarsenic]

One favorite fantasy of mine is exploring, walking around a magical forest and getting trapped by tendrils/vines. I love bondage, struggling against restraints, tease, edging and denial, also ruined orgasms, and the idea of being trapped like this and not knowing when I'll be free (if at all)

Treat please Mistress 🎃

Happy Halloween in advance 👻

(If this info is relevant: I'm 28, enby, they/them, clit haver)

You're part of a group of scientists that have travelled to an uninhabited island to research the native flora and fauna.

You're new to the team. Over-excited, frustrated by all the semantics in play and how slow everything moves as your supervisors follow the strict guidelines in place. You're constantly being scolded for skipping steps, for peeling off without alerting anyone and putting the party at risk.

Despite their warnings, it doesn't stop you from wandering out alone into the wilderness one night to sate your nagging curiosity.

You don't tell anyone where you're going. That's mistake number one.

Mistake number two comes when you venture out further than you intended. You're too caught up in your own world to notice something watching you. You figure the shudder crawling up your spine is merely the breeze and not a primal instinct. An inate warning.

The third and final mistake comes when you don't start running when the first tendril curls around your leg.

You trip, but are hoisted high up into the air before you can hit the ground. You try to scream but something thick and firm pushes into your mouth, gagging you. Every protest is muffled, and your mouth floods with the taste of bitter green vegetation. A vine. They writhe on the ground beneath you, shifting and bloating. Too many to count. Far too many to fight off.

The vines coil tight around your wrists and ankles, leaving you feeling off balance as you try to wriggle free. Another separates from the pile and makes quick work tearing at your clothing. In seconds, you're naked and utterly vulnerable.

And despite the fear, you're starting to become aroused.

You always were a fan of restraints, and maybe watched a few too many hentai clips. You could blame it on the cool air against your exposed body if you really need an excuse.

But that desire is made worse when a tendril slithers up your leg and rubs at your clit. Slowly at first, but building more and more. More tendrils rise and graze against every erogenous zone on your body, tearing what feeble reservations you have to shreads.

Heat floods your face and those muffled screams for help suddenly veer off into moans. Fuck, this is mortifying. But it feels so good to be held in place and fondled in the dark by sentient, alien plantlife.

A familiar feeling coils in the pit of your stomach and you close your eyes, leaning into that fast approaching release that'll maybe set your brain in order. Let you think properly and plan an escape. But just as you're reaching your finish, the vine on your clit pulls away.

You're left teetering on the edge. Needy, unfulfilled and so fucking foggy with want.

After a minute, the vine returns to rubbing you, building you right back up to that edge. It does it over and over. Ignoring your struggle, your moans and somehow always knowing the exact second to stop before you tumble towards completion.

With the last of your wits about you, you consider what would be worse:

Being found in this desperate, humiliating state by your coworkers, or being enslaved by the vines forever.

Trick or Treat Ask Game! Send in a fantasy with a "Trick" or "Treat" attached and I'll elaborate on it!

[anavc25]

I got lost to far in the crocodad theory and do u know what i want

I want a fanfic that Crocodile discovers that he is Luffy's father, but not during their first meeting or during Marineford. He finds out after leaving Luffy to die in the desert, but BEFORE Luffy shows up again to save Vivi.

Maybe Robin talks to him about D. or he finds a letter from Dragon about their son. But imagine the panic that fills Crocodile heart and he thinks "i killed my own son"

He goes back to the desert to find the body but there is nothing there... maybe he survived? No, there is hundreds of animals in the desert who would make a feast and dont let any bone behind

So he goes back to the city and HE. IS. FURIOUS. With himself? yes, a lot, but also with this country and especially with Vivi. If the damn princess hadn't convinced his son to help her, none of this would have happened. So Crocodile continues his plan. he wants Pluto, and he will destroy the world trying, starting with Alabasta.

and then, luffy appears flying carrying a barrel of water and Crocodile is too stunned to speak. After that the story can go one of two ways:

Like cannon: Crocodile recovers from the shock and is happy, but decides to keep this secret to himself. What good would it do for him to stop the plan now when he's so close to achieving it. he intends to defeat his son in a less lethal way this time and then have a conversation between father and son that would really be necessary (but it doesn't happen because Luffy is Luffy and kick his ass and then he is send to Impel Down and LUFFY IS GROUNDED)

But my favorite way is like... Crocodile stops. he just stops. he looks at Luffy and nothing comes out. he receives punches without reacting. and obviously Luffy notices and gets pissed. "What are you doing Crocodile?!" and then... Crocodile just hugs Luffy. "What the hell is Dragon doing to leave you running around like that?". Confusion ensues. Let's save this country, I guess.

The end is Crocodile being like "You are NOT going to explore the Grand Line without your jacket learning Haki" and Luffy "DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!" "I'M YOUR FATHER YOU DO WHAT I SAY GET BACK HERE"

[shittalkerxox]

i got bored and began writing an essay on charles, and now i have over 1300 words doing a deep dive of how charles is stuck in limbo

[dallianceangel]

𝐀 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 🏍️💗

Might turn this into a multi-chapter fic, so please comment if that’s something you’d like to read😊

👋🏼 comments, likes and reblogs are highly appreciated 👋🏼

“Don’t even bother, Ope,” you sigh heavily, trying to avoid eye contact with the man you once loved. “You’re married, and I’ve got a life to live.”

“I know,” Opie says, trying not to let his emotions show. “I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye. Now go home to Lyla.”

Exhaling deeply, he decides to walk away, a stray tear rolling down his cheek as he gets back onto his bike. Just as he’s about to start it up, he hears the roaring of a motorcycle edge closer. Turning around, he notices you jumping onto the back of the bike before it speeds away, the rider unknown but most definitely a Mayan.

A few hours later, you find yourself sitting on the back steps outside of a beautiful bungalow, sipping a mug of coffee as you watch the sun begin to set.

You feel someone caress your back, before they sit next to you. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely,” you whisper, turning around to look at him.

“But not as beautiful as you.”

Snuggling in closer to him, Bishop presses a loving kiss on the top of your head. Sighing contently, you can finally breathe.

You’re never going back to Charming.

[ubtendo]

The promise of something great and the person you inevitably became

[lizhly-writes]

redacted for WIP Wednesday please

you got it!

.

The Peak Lords of An Ding and Bai Zhan were married.

Shang Qinghua did not write this. The barest hint of a thought had crossed his mind, when he had paired up Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge in a poorly-thought-out energy-drink-fueled fugue, but then he'd gotten distracted trying to figure out some historically-accurate energy drink equivalent, and well, that was that. Thought gone. Poof. Vanished.

Now, it had come back to haunt him.

Turned out, in Shizun's time, there had been a record number of disciples lost on standard supply trips. Obviously, An Ding needed further protection, and who better to do the protection than Bai Zhan? That was why the head disciples of that generation had been engaged.

It had turned out... weirdly well?

Shang Qinghua wasn't sure that Shizun was in love or anything like that, but he certainly liked the Peak Lord of Bai Zhan. That friendly and productive working relationship had echoed down into the disciples. The disciples were friends. An Ding disciples cheered on and supplied Bai Zhan disciples against different Peaks. Bai Zhan disciples chased down their sectmates for An Ding paperwork. You rarely saw an An Ding disciple wander around without a Bai Zhan disciple close by, and vice versa.

Even Shang Qinghua, who... was not great at making friends, had some random Bai Zhan disciple he didn't know stop in the middle of what they were doing to accompany him on some random errand. Shang Qinghua had felt oddly like some fainting maiden getting escorted by a chivalrous knight. It wasn't just him; this seemed to be how a significant portion of An Ding felt about Bai Zhan. A significant portion of that portion used it for romantic fuel.

In this sort of environment, it wouldn't be weird if the An Ding and Bai Zhan head disciples were engaged again. This was the common perception of pretty much all of the An Ding and Bai Zhan disciples, a lot of which... knew each other on a deeper level, let's say!

Which was why, even though Shang Qinghua knew he'd written a marriage to Yue Qingyuan, 60% of him expected Shizun to say, "You'll be engaged to Liu Qingge."

[llondonfog]

diasomnia month // prompt 10 — rain

The weather of Briar Valley has always been harsh, perhaps more in tune with their draconian rulers than nature itself, but this rainstorm seems to take exceptional delight in its cruelty.

It hammers with a vengeance against Lilia's armor, soaking the already stained arachne-spun garments beneath into a gruesome slurry of sweat and blood that splatters to the crushed foliage below— though none his own.

"A healer to me, NOW!"

The roar of his own voice breaking across the relentless thunder of the rain and cacophony of scrambling soldiers hardly sounds familiar; there is an undercurrent of true fear like the bloated, dark bellies of the clouds above them, roiling and ready to release. There is no time to be grateful that the din of the storm itself drowns out his weakness, but there is no time for anything at all as the seconds tick down with every passing moment that the boy collapsed in his arms heaves blood over Lilia's trembling hands.

"You foolish, fucking child!"

It is easier to be incandescent with anger, to reach into that raw, bubbling rage inside of himself rather than expose his heart for what it has become. It is easier to hurl curses at that wretched human as the boy blinks unfocused eyes up at Lilia's face as if to focus on the moon itself, his gloved hands slipping and sliding over the ragged hole pierced through his stomach like that might keep his organs inside.

"I could have easily dodged that blow, I did not ask for you to defend me like some hapless fledgling!"

His voice is rising to strange, new octaves as the rain saps the already pallid color from the human child's face, streaking down his cheeks and plastering his bangs to his skin— Lilia finds himself struck with the bizarre desire to brush them away if he were not bleeding out in his very arms. There's absolutely no remorse or shame in that disgustingly honest face, and Lilia's heart all but twists itself into oblivion as the boy chokes out "Father—" as if in prayer, as if to summon the man himself to save him from his fate.

"BAUL, A HEALER TO ME, NOW!"