#SOMEONE LET ME WRITE THIS

[wistrea]

the way im craving for gala / ball threads… kira bringing your muse as her plus one to a gala? maybe she’s there for work, maybe they’re undercover, who knows 👀

[chiptrillino-art]

(ID in ALT text)

just some kuruk tests

[choccy-milky]

sometimes you gotta lure your overly-studious ravenclaw gf into spending time with you 🥰 📚 ( from 'Every Teardrop is a Waterfall' by Kat_12739 on ao3, GO READ IT!!! the first story is about seb falling sick and still pushing himself/not admitting he's sick until he ends up in the hospital, the second story is about the birth of seb and clora's daughter and seb's reaction to clora almost dying in childbirth, and the third is about dealing with a fussy newborn lewis😭🥹THEY'RE SO GOOD AND SWEET AND SOMEWHAT SAD (not to mention beautifully written) so go check it out!!💖💖 )

[buntanteen]

cockwarming dilf!mingyu thoughts (nsfw)

summary: thoughts on reader cockwarming dilf!kim mingyu :3

contains: 18+ nsfw! mdni!!

✩ svt writing & fic rec masterlist ✩

thinking about cock warming and slow fucking dilf!mingyu

after closing the bedroom door behind him, mingyu turns to meet your gaze. the moment the two of you make eye contact, you both gravitate towards each other. the slow movements of feeling up his chest turn into rapid ones trying to undress each other.

walking backwards to mingyu bed, falling into the white sheets with him hovering about you. grazing open mouthed kisses and licks across each other's necks. nosing against each other’s skin as he slips into you. feeling so so so full as you grind down onto his pretty cock.

slow movements of mingyu's hips hitting every spot making you in absolute bliss. the pace slowing down to barely slow fucking. heavy breaths, quiet moans and slips of whimpers filling the room.

trying to keep quiet so none of his kids hear the two of you. mingyu having his arms wrapped around you and his head laying on top of your chest. you have one hand trailing down the curve of his broad back. the other hand is carding your fingers through his hair to move it away from his sweaty forehead.

the summer evening breeze cooling down your flushed skin. the sunset view illuminating his honey skin. the warmth of your and mingyu's bodies lulling the two of you to sleep.

ames note: my other mingoo writing -> bestie fwb!mingyu headcanons

author note: do not distribute my work on other platforms without my consent. if you see my writing in places other than this tumblr account, please let me know. my writings are purely fictional fantasises for fun. the people i write about are real human beings and should still be treated as such. please do not take my writings seriously or as truth.

[maximura]

[merlinemryspendragon]

Bridgerton - S3E02 “How Bright the Moon” // S3E03 “Forces of Nature”

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Turtle Takedown Teamwork.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[rottiens]

i believe the first time you let (virgin) kakashi play with your pussy, it comes accompanied in an unusual way of talking on his part. it's almost like he takes notes to himself, almost like he doesn't talk to you. the tired gaze is set between your sticky thighs, watching carefully how your folds stretch as he puts his finger in and pulls it out, you exhale. 

"oh, here?" he slowly bends it and pushes, you cry out. "too much?" 

he doesn't even look at you as you gaze at him in raw adoration. you don't even know what expression he has because he refused to take off his mask. 

"you're squeezing so tight." his eyebrows draw together for a second before returning to his usual expression. with the thumb of his free hand he squeezes and strokes the bundle of nerves. "so wet." kakashi pushes deep, faster this time and your legs tremble, you call out to him and he ignores you with a hoarse throaty purr. "here. i like that sound." 

wet clicks fill the office. kakashi fucks your pussy with one finger and then adds another with perspicacity, careful of every step he makes next. 

"I think it's gonna cum for me." your looks become one, unbreakable as he massages you like someone with experience and makes you wet his knuckles, juices dripping down his fingers and wetting his gloves. you scream his name clinging to that intangible, rushing to hold on to his thick white strands pulling him further into you. 

kakashi do it, he's guided by your fingers leading him further in; to take a glimpse of how you open up for him, how you tremble, how you squeeze. "does it always get so swollen?" he asks, and you know once again he's not talking to you. he leans in and the tip of his nose brushes the lovely sore nub back and forth almost as if he's teasing, then he takes a deep, shameless inhale, and you forget to breathe. "cute. you can cum now, I have to try again to see your reaction one more time."

[elizzsush]

The Mask | Jason Todd X Reader

Red Hood X Villain Reader

— in which you, a shy nerdy vigilante/Wayne family obsessed barista- is actually a villain that torments the Red Hood at night.

AU: Soulmate (bc I can)

Rating: Sfw

Note: Y/N is based off of Furina from Genshin bc I thought this would be fun and I saw a prompt somewhere, I think? It’s just my interpretation of it as to not step on anyone's toes!

Also, this isn't really a imagine. It's more of an Idea I was thinking of and needed to get out of my head! So that's why it's kind of not finished? Most of my stuff is WIPs anyway so this isn't really new.

_________________________________

You were a popular villain.

People loved you. Maybe not the theft and distraction you caused but hey- we all have flaws? “I will teach this city the true meaning of Justice!” You’d boldly claim standing on the stage that was Gotham city’s tallest building- scarily close to the edge. “Join me- and together we’ll cleanse this city of its evil and corrupt ways!” You’d state so boldly.

You loved for the attention, the lights- cameras and reporters. That’s why the red hood could only shake his head. Another psychopath spewing their ideology like it should be praised- like it was the absolute truth.

Spoiler alert, it wasn’t.

The world wasn’t black and white enough for an ideology to trump all the others and ‘cleanse this city’. Fuck, not this city- not even close. Gotham was just in too deep. Too much crime, too much of a drug problem or a poverty problem- too much of everything. The joker was a prime example of that. The evil of this city boiled up into one twisted person… Anyway, you were an attention seeker, classic villain profile. Does it for attention- maybe mommy or daddy didn’t give you enough love? It didn’t matter. What happened was you were breaking the law and Jason was still on Bruce’s keep an eye on list. So, he’d keep his hands off the bigger more horrible criminals.

Still sometimes, only sometimes, he'd find himself listening a little too closely to your ideals- Like you believed in the death penalty for Gotham hardest to kill roach: The joker.

So, while Red Hood was chasing you... Well, it'd started off small, you’d steal from the rich of Gotham- sometimes even Bruce Wayne himself. -Those days Jason found himself chasing after you slower, not that he’d admit that. It was a classic Robin Hood situation and Jason… didn’t know how to feel about it. On one hand you were breaking the law, in the other, power to the people. Eat the rich.

Jason knew how it felt to grow up struggling so too see you helping people? It was almost nice.

What annoyed him though was your loud, for the people persona. “I will judge all of Gotham! Batman himself can’t escape my judgment!” Okay, slow down… you were fast and agile, but Batman would be able to catch you. And if Jason really put his back into it, he could too. Still, that never stopped you from making bold claims. It garnered attention, it was bold and daring and just what the people wanted. Your ideal matched up with what so many people were fed up with the batman for.

Eventually your behavior began to escalate. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep the Bats eyes from you. “This is a cult...” He muttered while he hides away on the roof of an abandoned building you holed your followers up in for a speech.

“My loyal follower!” You’d greet them with a smile and a bow. You’d put in stage performances. Sometimes with Jason, except he never knew, and the performance was just you and him fighting on the stage. Most days, some days it seemed it was just you acting and being alive on that large stage. Others you were preaching your words to the cult your loyal followers. You were building an empire and catching the attention of other criminals.

An empire that while he agreed with, went against the bats no kill rule. The longer you stood on that stage the less safe from the bat you were.

And no matter how much he wanted to agree with you, a small part of him still wanted... something from batman. You would be an issue.

“How much longer do I have to do this…?”

Red hood was no detective, but he was raised by the greatest one. So, while he was lacking in that department compared to the rest of his family (Even if it was just by a smidge.) He still noticed how after a speech or a fight- your smile, no, your persona dropped.

It was a persona you probably garnered for attention.

but still...

So how…

…That just didn’t make sense.

“Can I have your autograph…? Please?” A civilian would ask shyly, hiding behind a Batman themed phone case with a Robin themed charm hanging from that same phone.

The worst part of it all? You didn’t ask for the Red Hoods autograph. You asked for Jason Todd’s autograph, you were a fan of the Wayne’s. Gotham's golden family. No actually, it was the way you jumped up and down eagerly when you thought he was far enough way and did a dumb victory dance.

He sighed and leaned against the alleys stone wall as he watched you leave. A sense of worry invaded his mind as he watched you in your nerdy and totally lame Superman shirt walking away. All while staring at your phone.

He was surprised you recognized him. He was never in the public spotlight- maybe here and there when he was younger. Not now, not anymore. His death and how vague it was left question. Ones people didn’t ask when he wasn’t there, dangling in front of them like bait to a fish, they’d ask why and how and while they had a cover up: One the bat, the world's greatest detective made up. It still was messy. You must be a real fan.

He wasn’t even sure if that was really you…

It had to be though, there was no mistaking it. So, with your civilian name in his head, he walked back home.

“…so… lonely…” `

[wasabi-gumdrop]

oh

i am. unwell.

[dothwrites]

pls tell us about your evil spn revival idea. the world needs to know

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING

the most evilest spn revival idea:

there IS a plot to retrieve cas from the empty, but due to Reasons™ (buckleming would be able to come up with some great ones) cas is forced to change vessels. and he does.

his new vessel is a woman.

upon reuniting with dean, dean immediately confesses his love for cas and they kiss with tongue, thus making destiel canon in the WORST way possible

this has the benefit of pissing off almost every demographic:

cas/misha girlies (gn) are mad because misha isn't on the show anymore

destiel girlies (gn) are pissed because this is technically a heterosexual (and possibly homophobic????) pairing now

wincesties are mad because destiel is now canon

jared/sam girlies are mad because sam has now lost screen time

jared is mad because he's lost screen time

jensen is mad because he didn't get to kiss his male coworker with tongue

misha is mad because a wonderful attention grabbing opportunity has been lost

the most evilest choice. i should write for the show

[demigods-posts]

canonically, percy isn't aware of the crushes people have on him until it's too obvious to deny — like when annabeth kissed him, or when nico straight up told him. and since percy isn't aware of rachel's crush on him until the beginning of tlo, that means there was a point in time when rachel was actively trying to get with him and he had no idea. and it's not even his fault lol. he just only saw her as his good friend and just thought her advances were her being friendly. i just have to see this in action.

[cliophilyra]

Honey, I’m Home

“Hey honey I’m home,” Buck murmurs to himself, half-falling through the door into the dark entrance hall of Tommy’s house. The whole day has been a seemingly endless stream of small, silly calls, each bell draining him further and further, leaving him a shell of the man he was when he left that morning.

It had been a great morning too. Two orgasms before he’d even had his coffee had seemed like a pretty promising start to the day and then he’d spent most of his shift on a constant simmer, half hard in his turnouts because his boyfriend, who was having the opposite sort of day at work, decided it would be a good idea to send him shirtless selfies taken in the Harbor locker room that would have been rejected from the firefighter calendar for being too pornographic.

The whole day there was nothing in his head but the need to get back home, drop to his knees and let Tommy fuck his mouth until he comes down his throat. But with every alarm his energy had drained and drained and now here he is, a mere 18 hours later, all alone in an empty house, feeling dead on his feet and Tommy is still on shift for another four hours. He lets out a deep sigh and drops his bag, trudging up the stairs with leaden feet.

After the quickest possible shower he wraps a towel around his waist and heads to the bedroom. As he approaches he notices to his surprise that there’s a dim light coming from under the door. He pushes it open, thinking Tommy must have left a lamp on, only to be greeted by the most wonderful sight he has ever seen. Tommy is in bed - their bed - wearing nothing but grey sweatpants and his reading glasses. He looks up from his book and smiles. “Surprise,” he says. “Lucy came in early and took pity on me. Apparently I was “annoying”, which I would dispute but I didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth. So I got out early.”

Buck just stands there and takes him in. His hair is all soft, messy curls, sticking up at random and his glasses make his beautiful eyes seem even more impossibly blue than usual. His chest is just so huge. Buck finds himself transfixed by his pecs again, mouth filling with saliva. They’re just so big and strong and so, so…inviting. Buck doesn’t have any coherent words left in his head so he just crawls onto the bed and faceplants into Tommy’s chest, pressing his face into the soft warmth of his pecs with a long, drawn out sigh of contentment.

Tommy lets out a sound somewhere between a grunt of surprise and a laugh as he effortlessly takes his weight, wrapping his arms around him and carding his fingers softly through Buck’s damp hair, kissing the top of his head.

Buck takes a deep breath, letting the warm, subtly spicy smell of Tommy’s soap and the soft musk of his skin become his whole awareness. He feels the tension begin to drain away immediately, his muscles heavy and lax, the scratch of Tommy’s nails against his scalp sending tiny shivers down his spine as he rubs his face into his chest, Tommy’s soft chest hair tickling his nose.

“Hard day?” Tommy asks, sounding amused.

Buck just hums in agreement, pressing his lips to Tommy’s chest.

“I probably shouldn’t have sent you those pictures at work,” Tommy laughs quietly.

Buck makes a sharp noise of protest because he absolutely cannot agree with that, although he may not be at his most coherent right now. The scent of Tommy’s skin is making his mouth water and his dick twitch in a frankly heroic effort. He bites down lightly on Tommy’s pec and smirks when he hisses.

“Baby,” he says, mumbling the words into his chest. “I—I—I am…so fucking tired right now,” he sighs in frustration. “But when I wake up I am going to suck your brain out through your cock and then I am going to fuck you til you forget your own name,” he says with absolute assurance.

He feels Tommy’s throat move as he swallows hard and smiles as his big hands slide down Buck’s back to squeeze his ass.

“Well if you insist.”

“I absolutely do,” Buck says, his voice already thick and slow.

Tommy kisses his head again and curls his leg around Buck’s. Buck is asleep between one breath and the next.

[kissitbttr]

toji will argue with the fact that he has the sexiest girlfriend in this planet and he would die fighting for that truth. and he doesn’t mind showing it off to people. whether it’d be by words or visuals.

he loves to tell his friends about how flexible you are when it comes to fucking, how you like it when he cums all over your tits, how skilled your tongue is when it comes to sucking him off.

he has no shame in it.

“look straight to the camera, baby—there we go—gooood girl” he instructs as he takes the picture of you kneeling between his knees. delicate hand wrapped around his hard mid shaft with your warm mouth engulfing him.

his cock twitches when your glossy eyes dart towards the lenses, even more when you decide to smile. the sight just makes his stomach twirl and his cum threatening to spill all over your pretty face,

can you blame him though?

“s-shit” he grunts when you decide to lull your tongue out, showing him the metal piercing right in the middle before the cold jewelry makes a contact with his sensitive tip. “insane. you’re driving me fucking insane, baby—god damn”

he takes another shot at that before hearing you giggle, finger swiping the pre cum that’s decorating your lower lip. “what other positions you want me to do next, papi?”

toji groans at that, head thrown back along with his eyes. “don’t do that—you know what it does to me”

“hm? that is?” you tease, head tilting to the right and nearly squeal when his hand spanks your ass as a warning,

“good girls don’t tease—turn around for me” he directs, finger twirling in circular motion as he smirks deviously , watching you obey him just like that.

toji nearly lets out an animalistic groan when you turn your back to him, sitting on your knees before leaning forward a bit,

and he doesn’t play when he says he’s got the sexiest girlfriend in the world. because with an ass like that, who could even compete?

“shit—look at that” he grabs a handful of your ass after setting the camera to his side. squeezing each one at a time and he swears he feels like the heaven just came straight to him. “and some people say tits are better than ass”

“baby!” you playfully scold with a small giggle, looking over your shoulder to see your boyfriend playing with your ass like his life depends on it. you could even see the lusty look in his eyes. “sometimes i do wonder if you’re with me for me or my butt”

“i’m with you for all of it, sweetheart” he winks at you, pressing a chaste kiss on one of the cheek before grabbing his camera back, angling it directly towards the plump flesh. “hold still, pretty—i gotta take lots of it—should we send these to your punk of an ex?”

you gasp at the question, eyes lighting up. “oh! baby, that’s a great idea! but wouldn’t it be better if you had your cock in me when i ride you in reverse? we can even send videos even!”

his eyebrow quirks at your thought, chuckling by his girlfriend dirty suggestion before his large hand comes up to wrap his cock and pumping it a bit. sliding the tip up and down your wet hole making you close your eyes in pure bliss,

“want me to send the pictures like this?” he rasps watching you nod and squirm because of it.

“hmm, but let me do the work, baby. you just gotta take the pictures, yeah?” you smile through bitten lip, removing his hand off and replacing it with yours before guiding the tip in. “i’ll ride you real good, daddy”

toji moans when you sink yourself down on his cock, feeling your wet velvet walls hugging it tight as his fingertips digging onto the skin of your hips,

he tosses the camera away to the edge of the bed the moment you start picking up the pace, thinking that he could record that shit later. it’s not like both of you couldn’t go for more than three rounds.

“my dirty dirty girl—fuck”

[benevolenterrancy]

@hereticcryptid i'm late responding to this prompt, but have a continuation on baxia and hensheng wanting more cuddles than one would normally expect from a spiritual sword!

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone^2 - Separation Strikes

"Why do I have to go?" Damian asks, surly and accent-thick, it sounds more like a demand and a whine at the same time. Sitting on the kitchen table with his arms crossed, in a green t-shirt that Danny bought him at a whim when he was at a thrift shop, and black shorts, he's never looked more like a kid. There's a little backpack leaning against the table leg, Damian begrudgingly picked it out when they went shopping.

His English has grown in leaps and bounds since Danny found him -- er, or more accurately; since Damian was spat out in front of him. -- and very little did they have to use the translator on Danny's phone these days.

Which meant one thing: Damian can start attending school comfortably now. And 'go' was the Amity Smiles Child Care Center. Danny and Jazz went as kids until they were twelve, and Mom and Dad actually managed to convince the center director to let Damian enroll for the summer.

And it was summer; Damian starts today.

"Because," Danny says, trying and failing to hide the smile pulling on his face, his heart warm and soft, and also laughing at Damian's expense; "being cooped up in the house all day isn't good for you, and you're starting school in the Fall. And, in Jazz's words: you need to have interactions with other kids your age for the benefit of your social development. And besides, it's only for the morning."

Damian's nose scrunches up, and his eyes roll so violently that for a moment, Danny thinks about joking that he'll get his eyes stuck like that. He holds his tongue; his little brother already looks like he's five seconds away from committing an act of violence.

"I don't need social interaction." Damian sneers, his cheek in his hand; a neverend pool of pride. "I am--"

"The Blood of the Demon Heir, better than everyone else." Danny cuts off, waving his hand in dismissive circles, his voice mockingly deep. Damian's brown skin darkens in embarrassment, and he scowls at Danny. "I know, bud. But Jazz is right, -- don't tell her I said that, -- you should be around kids your age."

Especially when he starts First Grade in the Fall. Honestly -- Danny was a little nervous to send him to the center. Damian's long since cut the habit of trying to kill or otherwise maim people, his palms ache-burn with gentle reminder, but his tongue was as sharp and as cutting as his sword. He still struggles with trying to quell it when he's upset. Vicious child-weapon that he once was, and will never be again.

Danny knows that it comes from a place of fear and defense, that Damian lashes out because that's what he's been taught. That at the end of the day, he doesn't really mean what he says, and he's learning to express himself better. But the other kids don't know that, and kids can be unforgiving and cruel.

Danny just...

His slow beating heart sighs, melancholy settles behind his lungs.

He doesn't want Damian to be outcasted. He doesn't want him to be alone.

Not like he was.

Damian sneers again, but says nothing, his shoulders crawling up to hide his ears like a turtle receding into his shell. Danny watches him silently, leaning against the kitchen counter with his own arms crossed. The clock hanging on the wall ticks in their ears -- it's almost time to go.

He watches Damian, careful, and so he sees it when his little brother's stone-shell pride and petulance shudders, and cracks. The darkened furrow of Damian's brows weakens, and for a moment, slants back.

Ah, Danny thinks, his own shoulders slumping. Epiphany washes over him, and his sad-heart soothes in warm understanding. So that's what it is.

His head tilts, and his hair spills over his shoulders, messy and fluffy, tickling his neck. Some of his bangs fall into his face. "Hal 'ant easabiatan ya habibi?" He asks, voice low and soft. Just as Damian's English has improved, so has Danny's Arabic. He still stumbles over himself some days, and Damian says his accent is trash, but they can have whole conversations now in Damian's mothertongue.

(Danny was incredibly proud of himself for it.)

Damian's face darkens, his blush spreading across the rest of his face, and he ducks his head down. Grown-out curls, black-brown and springy, falls over his eyes. "La!" He yells, loud and indignant, and not at all convincingly. "La 'asheur bialtawaturi!"

He was nervous. Danny can see it now, in the hunch of his shoulders and the tightness of his face, and faintly, he can feel it too. In the ecto-rich air of the Fentonworks House, it thrums, barely-there, like a hummingbird behind his lungs.

Danny can't stop the little, fond smile that forces itself across his lips and upticks the corner of his mouth. "It's okay to be nervous, little brother." He says, he sounds like Jazz when he says that. He doesn't think she'll mind him borrowing the nickname.

He pushes himself off the counter, and Damian refuses to look at him, hiding behind his hair and in his shoulders. It takes three long strides for him to reach the table, and Danny turns, plants his hands on the ledge, and hoists himself up. Right next to Damian.

Damian leans into him easily when Danny's arm wraps around his shoulders and tucks him close to his heart. He can feel his ear against his ribs. Danny hunches over him, resting his chin on Damian's head. "It's so okay to be nervous, actually. I was nervous, Jazz was nervous." He tells him, scratching the blunt edge of his nails across his scalp. "Everyone gets nervous."

"'Ana last aljumiea." Damian mumbles, as small and feeble as he was the night on the OPS Center balcony, realizing that his mom and the League weren't coming for him. Realizing that he was replaceable.

Danny's half-working heart squeezes; in grief, in rage, and his faucet eyes sting. He breathes in carefully, and presses his nose into Damian's hair in a loving faux-kiss. "You're right, you're not everyone." He says, steady and strong, because if he's not a pillar for his family, who else is he?

He can feel Damian's eyes flick up to him, and Danny smiles into his black-brown curls. Tilts his head to squish his cheek against him instead, hand dropping to thumb below Damian's lashes. "You're Damian Fenton," Because the adoption went through a few weeks ago, and he's still riding that high, "You're my baby brother. O' Artist Extraordinaire, Kickass with a Sword, Vegetarian and Wonderful Co-Ghost Hunter."

Damian tries to stifle a smile, and fails. Score! Triumph gathers in Danny's gut, his smile grows wider. He squeezes Damian tight, and only releases him so he can look him in the eyes. "And if anyone gives you a hard time at school, and I mean anyone--"

Danny has bad memories of the teachers looking the other way when the other kids were bullying him, all because he was a Fenton.

And Danny, bleeding heart, bleeding hands, loves his family more than he will ever love himself, will never let Damian experience the same injustice. Not if he can help it.

His eyes narrow, and the buzzy-film of ectoplasm covers his eyes, making them glow, "--You tell me. And as your awesome great big brother-and-technically-dad-but-only-biologically, I will handle it."

Damian, wonderfully made, full of light, his little brother Damian, giggles weakly at him. A sound that's worth it's weight in gold. The scary eyes dissipate, and Danny matches the sound with a cock-eyed, impish grin, dragging Damian into a soul-crushing, too-tight hug. The kind that only annoying older brothers can give. "Got it?"

That gets a proper, if short, laugh out of Damian. He wriggles in Danny's arms, trying to break free. But Danny does calisthenics, his arms are as big as Damian's head, so it doesn't work. "Understood, now, daeni 'adhhab ya 'akhi!"

Danny laughs, loud and bright, and loosens his hold just a smidge, only so he can adjust his grip and hop off the table with Damian still in arm.

"Never!" He crows, hoisting Damian slightly. One eye flick at the clock, and in one quick move, he secures Damian under one arm like a football, and hooks his foot under the strap of his backpack. Kicking it up, he tosses it into the air and catches it with his free hand, and slings it over his shoulder. "Now, to the car, my boy! Before we're late and Mom and Dad get charged."

Damian groans, childish and dramatic and long, but his face is all squished up with a wide grin and glee. Danny can taste his joy beneath his tongue.

"And, if my little pep talk didn't encourage you," He says, reaching the door to the garage, flipping Damian up onto his hip instead. "If you have a good day today, I'll make you bal mithai when you get back."

Like all kids at the promise of sweets, Damian's eyes widen and glitter. Danny loves seeing Damian be a kid, it's his favorite thing in the world. "I will!"