#we’re getting there

[ricky-mortis]

Here’s a silly little Holy Bastard sketch as I’m still getting over a spell of burnout :)

[send-me-a-puffalope]

Drew a little masc Vanessa for a little thing @ender--slime is putting together 😁 Rejoice lesbians !!!

[unnierzmovedtozunckerz]

redraw based off convo with quartizinedaze

[csbat]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 — 𝐒𝐑.

▸ PAIRING: Simon “Ghost” Riley x AFAB!Reader

▸ SUMMARY: Simon wanted you, even when he pushed you away. Even when you left because of it. Even when he let you.

▸ CONTENT WARNING: Hurt/no comfort, explicit sex

▸ WORD COUNT: 1,320

Simon was a voracious man, and he’d eat himself to perdition just to have a taste of you.

When he buried himself in your neck, tasting your supple skin with an ephemeral greed, he wasn’t apologetic. He chased the soft sounds spilling from your mouth, swallowing them with scarred lips. Canorous. Dulcet.

He took what you gave him, and then he took more, digging for scraps when you arched against his palm.

Pretty little thing, trapped in the throes of his maw, pragmatic as he tore you apart and put you back together. He was rotten work, he knew that, selfish when he burrowed into you, finding home in the heat that burned him to the touch. It was never more, fleeting intimacy hidden in vicious thrusts, rough palms. Demeaning. Better for the both of you.

“This is the last time,” you drew, your voice ripping down the crest of his stomach. There was a finality in the line between your eyebrows, pulled together with disdain as you kissed his shoulder. “I’ll let you go after that.” It was biting, and it tore through him.

You didn’t lean into his calloused hand, and you didn’t look him in the eye. Distance. Detachment. A mere release of frustration, a carcass without the spark.

If it was what you wanted, it was what he would pour out. Anything, all of it, behind a veil of derisory. Leaking from his chest, from his fingertips when he pulled you into him.

Neither of you could withstand the weight of something more than what you had. Forever too wishful, too good for someone like him. Maybe if he was different. If he was made to hold something other than the hilt of a knife, the barrel of a gun.

He didn’t mean to get caught up, really, didn’t mean to brush your hair behind your ear with such reverence. He liked you this way, mused. His. Where he could keep you caged in his ribcage, where you could make a home out of him. You were written in his blood, even as you bit it from his lip. He’d let you devour him, would let you crawl inside of his skin until you got tangled up. Until he couldn’t separate from you.

When he pushed inside of you, it didn’t cure the ache in his bones. He held your bleeding heart in his palm, your blood on his hands when he bottomed out. It felt like hearing your favorite song, like driving through the night. It felt like black coffee, like heavy rain against his skin, like a breeze on a scalding day.

A superposition.

“This could’a been more,” he breathed, a finger pushing at your jawline, his hands spanning to your temple. Tiny little thing. It forced your head back against him. Forced you to acknowledge him as he hooked his chin over your shoulder. Pliable. Malleable.

His chest was pushed against your back, curling over you, keeping you caged in like a sheep to slaughter, a bird to catch. You were his to detain.

A hand slipped under your hip, sliding up your chest to push you back against him, his free hand pinned above your head. You wouldn’t escape him. He wouldn’t let you.

“You could’a been mine.” His dick pulsed inside of you like a heartbeat, watching as you sucked him in like a breath.

You met his lips in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue as you clashed, indecision painted in every line of your body. You held onto his voice, held onto something you thought was empty. He’d never been more honest. There was too much between you, irremediable even when he snapped his hips into yours like it mattered. Like it’d change your mind.

They could’ve had a nice house in a field, somewhere the stars were visible so you could watch them from the porch. A big room where the sun filtered in so you could bathe in the light every morning. You’d curl into his chest, searching, and he’d pull you into him with a hand on your spine. You’d trace his tattoos, and he’d trace the column of your throat.

“Could’a had you,” he mumbled into your sweat-slicked skin, pushing you down into the bed with a hand between your shoulders.

You looked back at him with a wide-eyed gaze, allowing him to lay you on your back, hooking a thigh over his shoulder. A catharsis as he kissed your jawline. Your cheek. Your eyelid.

You made him feel like Icarus, flying too close to the sun. Like he was too big for his body. You were burning his wings. Like he would let you if you stayed.

“Could’a loved you,” he whispered into your ear, a confession shared between gritted teeth, as if it fought its way out of his throat. A bolted lock. Rusted metal, acidic to the touch. Rotting away with every thrust inside of you.

It was cruel, and he knew it. You both did.

He couldn’t stop, even when you looked up at him like that. Like it meant something. Like you knew. Like he was everything you ever wanted. Like he was the one thing that could’ve been yours. He did this, he knew, but he held you with a shaking fist. He kissed your tear-stained cheeks, held them as if it was his last chance at heaven.

You shied away with a broken sob, but Simon wouldn’t let you. Not now. Not like this. Not when it could be the last time, when he was losing you before he had the chance to recognize that he had you in the first place. Simon needed to burn this into his head, he needed to remember something other than blood and decay. Something other than nothing. “Don’ hide from me,” he muttered, pushing his chest into you to keep you rooted.

He worshiped every part of you, even those he couldn’t see. Smart little thing, clenching around him in that way he liked, dick scraping against your walls.

He could’ve been better for you. Would fight his way out of the dark void in himself, the one that sucked the life out of you. He saw it when you looked at him. This was ruining you both, but he’d let you rip him to the bone, make a mess out of him. Use him as you wanted, he wouldn’t complain.

Incoherent moans fell from your lips, something that sounded like I love you. It made his muscles tense, made it hard to hold back, to taint your insides with his spend. You said it like it was a goodbye, like it would be the first and the last time he pulled it out of your chest. Fuckin’ hell.

“Say it like I’m not losin’ you,” he bit, rough palms gripping your hips to push you down on his cock. “Like your mine,” he continued, breaths rugged against the skin of your breast. His tongue slid over the bud, teeth scraping against the peak.

“I love you now,” you whimpered, broken, hands tangling in his hair, pulling his head back to look at you, “and I’ll love you when I let you go.” His pace stuttered, his hands rough as he gripped the sheet above you.

He could feel it before he saw it, your pretty pussy gripping him, your toes curling. You came around him, and he realized with a brief moment of horror that you were dragging him down with you.

Not yet, he wasn’t ready.

And God, you were a sight. Skin riddled with sweat, eyelashes kissing your cheek, hair mused and sprawled around you. You were a mess, and he wanted it all. Cupping a firefly in his palms, chasing an unending stream. Simon wasn’t ready, and he would never be. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet.

He never did see you again.

▸ A/N: WHAT IS UP GUYS!!!!! i genuinely have not written anything in so fucking long, so i apologize if this is absolutely shit, but if you got this far i suppose it was okay. life has been absolutely bonkers, but i had this idea and wanted to get it out of me and actually do something with it. little short, would like to make it longer but my brain is absolutely frriiieeeddd. now that i think about it i don’t think i’ve ever let simon be peaceful… oh well!! shawty loves a little angst

[anangelforsure]

Drunk Progress update 🗣️🗣️🗣️

Ignore that the audio is lagging. I edit through insta reels 💀💀💀 it will get fixed later

[corpsentry]

black eyes

[scootsaboot]

i’ve been working on and off on this josuyasu fic for over two years now and i think its finally gonna get finished this year. like actually. i expect 2 people to read it and i dont even mind bc just completing the damn thing is a huge goal for me

[skoulsons]

okay so we know that, to some extent, Joel, at least a little bit, is a note writer. We see in game on the fridge that he wrote a note to Sarah. I’m going to be home late tonight. Go ahead and order food. See you in the morning. Dad

Joel has definitely left notes for Ellie around the house to some degree

Now MAYBE this is super cringey, but I was just envisioning a moment of him writing a note for her, for whatever reason, and the J in his name is kind of wonky looking because, out of habit, he started to write Dad and wrote the vertical line and started on the downward curve of the D before realizing and freezing briefly as he stared at half of the letter. He corrected, elongating the vertical line into the curve of the J and and topping the letter off with the horizontal line across the top

It’s messy and looks rushed and reminds Joel of all the times before when he didn’t have to think about what to write at the bottom of those notes. Dad. It’s always just been Dad.

But now its not. Not anymore. He’s every description of the word. Protector, leader, comforter. He’s honest, dependable, loving

The desire to be called Dad again makes his heart burn, but a part of him believes he failed at deserving that role over twenty years ago.

[treluna4]

Snippet Sunday

I was tagged by @indestructibleheart

It’s been all triplet fic all the time over here and progress is slow. Im working my way through the draft to find spots I need to fix/write and there are many, so here’s a snippet that I might have shared before:

……………

In the next quiet moment, when Ellen is in the other room changing Elijah’s diaper, Henry brings it up again as he and Alex are each feeding Finn and Matteo. They’re once again sitting side-by-side on the couch, arms pressed together. Henry nudges his husband.

“I’m sorry I didn’t wake you at the usual time this morning,” Henry says, “You’re right, we are a team. We should be splitting duties 50/50.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Alex says, “for the way I reacted. I was panicking because I thought something was wrong, then I was panicking because I thought I wasn’t doing enough to help with the babies, and that led me to panic about a bunch of other shit. But that’s not your fault.”

Henry leans over and kisses his shoulder, the closest bit he can reach with a baby in his arms. Alex tilts his head until it taps gently against his husband’s.

“The extra sleep really did help,” Alex says, “I feel much better today.”

“Good. I love you, Alex.” Henry mutters.

“I love you, too.”

Finn cries out, “no, of course not as much as I love you,” Alex coos back. Henry sits back, eyes half open, watching the two of them have a conversation consisting mostly of exchanged vowel sounds. He glances down at Matteo, fast asleep in his arms with the bottle still in his mouth.

“It’s a really good thing they’re so cute,” Henry says.

“No kidding,” Alex scrubs a hand over his own face as he yawns again, “I was just thinking the other day that if anyone else treated me like this I’d lose it on them.”

“Like Hunter?”

“Oh god, I haven’t thought of him in forever. Yeah, fuck that guy. But this guy,” he says, switching voices again, “I can’t believe how much I fucking love this little peanut.”

“At this rate his first word is going to be an expletive, darling,”

[meep-meep-richie]

3 more months until Benthan endgame

[m3gumibear]

GUCUCYCSJDNSNWKXJWNXJDND

KELLEN LIKED MY COMMENT AH-

[scudevils]

5 red flags in one quali!!

[saetoru]

omg tomorrow i get to post prof! gojo how exciting

[askhomestuckeveryone]

Is Calliope included in this????? I need to know this is absolute crucial information

The Alpha kids are now open for asks! UuU

(⬅️. ➡️)

[pupyuj]

HII!! I just wanted to say I'm new here and this is the first time a writer on tumblr has given me so much inspo to write! I used to compete in essay and short story competitions so I'm used to writing but I had recently given up writing cuz the major I'm in, in uni is completely unrelated.

Your mean girl! Wony had me going ballistic like I'm in love! I wanted to give writing another shot so I tried it out but it's really giving essay and I feel like it's just too serious!

My whole idea was trainee!reader x wonyoung who's legit about to screw over her entire debut just because she got rejected but I'm at the smut part and I'm blanking like what do I do?!

Also I really went from writing about socialism to wonyoung smut and it's killing me lmao!!

Can I be 🛌 anon please (with the arrow please!!) also sorry for this long ass ask I really need to stfu lmao!!

AAAAAA OMG ANON I’M SO SORRY I’M LATE?! 😭😭😣💔

there’s nothing wrong w a fic that’s ‘too serious’, anon! 😼 smuts don’t always have to have a dash of humor or anything like that and if your style is more of a straightforward approach then you do you!! there’s an audience for everything and best believe we’re going to enjoy any wony smut that’s thrown at us 😭‼️ so dw about that part anon :3 anyways I LOVE YOUR IDEA??? there’s so much room for so many dynamics! if you want my advice, you can totally steer it into dark content territory (only if you’re comfortable writing that kind of stuff ofc!!) bcs come on… there’s a whole lot of possibilities w mean girl wony 😋😋 if dark content isn’t rlly your thing then i don’t think a little hate sex action would hurt 👁️👁️ but that’s just my opinion! 😘 do whatever you feel is perfect anon, i believe in you! 🥰❤️‍🔥