#wednesday;imagery

[yourlocalabomination]

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust.

[hraugur]

@qtreesfanstuff how dare you be funnier than me in the TAGS

[ro-sham-no]

@wincestwednesdays | july 31st: spite / in sickness & in health / free space

EPHESIANS 5:28 / JOB 13:27 / JEREMIAH 8:20, a poem by me.

[renardsruses]

And he denied him three times

[omegaovaries]

happy #wipwednesday! have another excerpt of this wip

And despite all the mishaps that happened within that mission, he had still found the time to get a droid part that Anakin had been talking about for the past few weeks, frustrated at not being able to find it planetside, even after scouring through the upper and lower level parts shops and garages. Obi-Wan was tired, a little stained and a little more sore, but when he entered their quarters, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but present him the part stored in one of his robes’ inner pockets, not wanting to lose it with all of his running around. 

And oh, the way the Force had bloomed around Anakin. Soft and sweet and sunny, a refreshing glass of ice cold sweet tea and levels of euphoria suggested in the soprano high notes of opera. Obi-Wan had shuddered at how warm and energized he felt in that moment, like he had just shot back a cup of strong caf. 

It never changed - the jolt of energy he felt as Anakin’s joy spilled over and diffused in the Force. Always a storm of light and smiling lips perpetually stained with the juice of jogan fruit.

[ghostoffuturespast]

WIP Whenever

Tagged by @merge-conflict @wanderingaldecaldo and @fly-amanitaa! Thank you, chooms! 🧡👻

I've been turtling away at the next chapter of So It Goes and I'm getting there. I am. I'm just taking my sweet ass time. (IRL has been very busy too.) I also haven't shared much writing lately because I'm playing this one close to the vest and don't want to spoil it too much. But I really like how this tidbit came out:

Drought made the forage meager, forced everything to pick itself apart to scavenge for scraps. But relief always came in the form of water. A force, in the right amount, that blessed and nourished bodies. V closed her eyes as River washed her hair, gentle fingers lathering up the shampoo and combing through lank and faded purple strands. A once vibrant summer color that had wilted after the peak of its season, died back and mulched itself to brown. His touch was a small piece of comfort, a mundane act of care, but she thought it was the most transcendent thing she’d ever felt against her greased scalp. She returned the favor by washing his back, trying to massage the tension out of the knots that permanently resided along his spine. Her lone blackened hand not quite enough. They didn’t linger at the showers long, running water and the last dregs of darkness a scarce resource with the rising of the sun. But it was enough time to bathe and lose track of where their lips had and hadn’t been. Enough time to kiss each other too many times to count and murmur their hearts across the fragrance of each other’s cleaned skin.

And I am tagging... @dani-the-goblin @shimmer-like-agirl @luvwich @tarmac-rat

Keeping it small this round but feel free to tag me though if you want me to check out your WIPS! I usually try and reblog stuff I'm tagged in.

[chronicowboy]

wip wednesday

tagged by @alyxmastershipper ryan i love youuuuu

anyway. i've decided i hate this fic. it's clunky, it's difficult to write, and it's SAD. but i'm too far gone to stop now and hurting eddie is sooooooo much fun so here.

"What's going on, Buck?" he asks, gentle and uncombative and genuinely curious.

"I-I don't know." Buck shakes his head, eyes darting anywhere and everywhere dizzyingly fast. "Something feels wrong. Like really, really wrong, and I—" He chokes on his next breath, inhaling raggedly. "I don't know, Eddie. Did I make a mistake? Am I making a mistake?"

"Hey, Buck, I need you to calm down, okay?" This Eddie can do. He can calm Buck down. He knows how to soothe Buck as intimately as he knows his own heartbreak. "Come on, bud, breathe with me. Close your eyes, focus on my voice, and breathe with me." Buck's eyes flutter shut and he tilts his head back against the bricks as Eddie coaxes his lungs back into a normal rhythm. "That's it. There you go." Buck takes a deep breath before opening his eyes. They're clearer now, but there's still fear settled deep into the lines around his eyes. "Talk me through what you're thinking right now."

"What if Natalia isn't the one?" he says in a rush. "W-what if she's not my person?"

Eddie doesn't quite know how to explain what happens to him then. It's not comparable to anything he's ever felt before. Except maybe... Maybe it feels a lot like the few seconds he was conscious as the helicopter came down. He wasn't even aware he remembered the fall, assumed that memory was lost to blunt force trauma, the haze of war and wilful post-traumatic repression. But suddenly he's falling through the Valley of Death all over again, weightless and resigned, covered in blood and gore, hoping he can save his charges and knowing that it's a fruitless endeavour.

"Buck, today's a big day, this is just delayed cold feet," Eddie says calmly, hands out like he's trying not to spook that baby deer.

"N-no, Eddie." Buck pushes off the wall then, pushes into Eddie's space with something pleading in his eyes. "It's not cold feet. W-what if my person is still out there waiting for me? What if..." Buck's eyes suddenly land on Eddie, focused and unerring. "What if I've already met them? What if..." He inhales sharply. "What if they're right in front of me? What if they've been under my nose this whole time?"

tagging @danielsousa @diazass @butchdiaz @shitouttabuck and anyone else who has something to share

[ramblngz-of-a-lunatic]

My biggest style inspirations:

Real ones get it <3

[mendely]

wet priest wednesday

wet priest wednesday

[talentforlying]

(no textual spoilers) but i'm breaking my day-of-release-comic-sharing moratorium a little because look at this fucking art, y'all!!! we are so back!!!

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[wibble-wobbegong]

so much shit to do but i am just a sleepy little guy.. i need to be launched into the endless void

[conjcosby]

Stardate: 2024.5.1 ▫ Happy 1st of May everyone. 😊🙏 #Wise #Quote #Poetry #Wednesday #WiseQuote #WisePoetry #WiseWednesday #WiseQuoteWednesday #May #FifthMonth #May1 #May1st #MayFirst #MayTheFirst #QuoteOfTheDay #QOTD #PoetryOfTheDay #POTD #MidSpring #Spring #SpringQuote #SpringTime #SpringSeason #SpringNature #SpringImagery #ImageOfTheDay #IOTD

[miraclewoozi]

EXCUSE ME. WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT—

one of my favourite tropes for one of my FAVOURITE dudes by one of my F A V O U R I T E writers!!!!!!! i’ve been blessed. i’ve been healed. i have very real feelings for this, oh my god.

🙏🏻 This is my first time submitting a request because I can’t stop imagining Dino helping his drunk BFF home while secretly being in love with her 🧎🏼‍♀️Please if you have time!

superpower

summary: not all heroes wear capes, but chan would probably do so if you asked. pairing: lee chan x reader type: drabble genre: fluff au: friends to ?, pining word count: 1.4k (oops) rating: pg15 — still, minors do not have my consent to interact. cw: alcohol/drunkenness, obvi; no pronouns or gendered language is used for reader. a/n: not even remotely proofread (double oops), but i still love this down-bad doofus, so i hope you do, too!

“I’m not saying I have superpowers, but I’m not not saying it.”

Your eyes are blinking a little more slowly than usual, but the unimpressed look you fire off at Chan can’t be missed.

“Can you just —” A hiccup cuts your question in half. You frown with your whole face just to make it clear how serious you are. “Hold my hand? It’s wobbly.”

Chan knows you’re referring to the sidewalk — where you stand and sway along to music that isn’t playing — but that description fits his knees, too. 

He hopes you’re too busy pouting at him to notice the way he wipes his palms against his jeans, afraid you’ll notice how nervous you make him. You start to lean a bit too heavily to one side for his liking, though; and he thinks it’s safe to bet that you’re not noticing much of anything.

That settles it.

The second he envelopes your hand in his, you take it a step further, tugging him close enough that you can slot yourself under his arm.

“Smell nice,” you mumble from his side. “‘s that the new stuff? From the place?”

Now, Chan is the one that’s blinking slowly. He was as drunk as you were until you needed him, and despite his sobering up on a dime — which is a superpower, thank you very much — his processing speed is lagging. You nudge him with your elbow, as if that’ll make what you just said make sense.

“Ahhh!” He plays along, making a big show of realizing things. “Yes, that place. By the thing, right?”

You nod. “Exactly.” 

Behind you both, the Uber that dumped you back at your place pulls away from the curb. Three beats later, you tilt your head and cheer “goodbye” at a long-gone Kia. He feels his heart swell three sizes in chest.

“You like it?” He redirects you because he’s a little bit greedy for your praise — and also because he bought this cologne with the hope that you’d compliment it. Chuckling, he notes, “Considering how much I’m propping you up right now, you’ll probably end up smelling like me.”

When you smile and mutter, “Good,” Chan suddenly feels weightless.

It takes some concentrated effort, but he manages to guide you up the front steps to your apartment building. It takes significant concentrated effort to corral you into the elevator once you clear the threshold. You would’ve spent your night talking the doorman’s ear off, otherwise, providing a dramatic retelling of every single step you took over the last few hours. It takes everything Chan has not to laugh at the relieved sigh he gets in thanks for intervening, although it’s hardly altruistic to want your rambling to himself.

Surrounded by the metallic walls of the elevator car, you point to your joint reflection and muse, “Someone’s awful smiley this evening.”

Chan makes eye contact without having to tilt his head. His brain works overtime to churn out a response that isn’t self-incriminating, but the only thought ricocheting around his brain relates to how cute you look, nestled into him.

With a ding, your reflection is gone. The moment goes with it, and without a barrier in front, so do you — like a bat out of hell.

“Oh, my god,” you wail when your apartment door comes into view. “I thought I’d never see you again!”

Chan chases after you, arriving embarrassingly out-of-breath — and more than a little fond — just in time to watch you wrestle your keys out of your pocket. They clatter to the floor the second they’re free. You groan, bereft at the loss.

“Stay here,” he says firmly with a finger pointed because he knows you, knows you’ll take one or both of you out of commission if you don’t heed his warning. 

Your eyes cross a little bit as you stare down the barrel of it, but you listen, thankfully; and he’s able to pick up your slack without anyone receiving a concussion. He’s able to usher you into your own home without further incident, too.

Once again: superpowers.

The task of kicking your shoes off is apparently too much to ask of you, so you wander off to your bedroom without even trying. His Nikes are discarded so hurriedly that they barely hit your mat by the time he takes off after you. The second he catches up, he wins the pleasure of watching you flop backwards onto your mattress.

Funny, he thinks. His heart makes a similar thwump when you smile at him the way you are right now.

Gesturing to the feet dangling off the edge of your bed, he laughs. “Can I please help you?”

You shoot him with dual-wielded finger guns. He takes that as a yes, please, and gets to work on the triple knots you managed to install in your laces.

“Chan?”

He hums in acknowledgment without looking up, too confounded by your drunken rope-work to take his eyes off his fingers.

Were you a sailor in a past life?

A little louder and a lot more pathetically, you whine, “Chan,” adding several seconds’ worth of the vowel sound in the process.

Chan has no option but to look up at you. As far as he’s concerned, he’s got no choice but to smile with all of his teeth, too. “You rang?”

“You’re so nice.” It’s supposed to be a whisper, he suspects, but it sounds much more like a shout. “How?”

His bemused snort is disguised by the sound of your right shoe hitting the floor.

“I mean it!” You laugh — like he’d ever doubt you — and smack your palms against your duvet for emphasis. “Like, hello? Good boy alert!”

That — well, that does something to Chan that he’s not willing to unpack right now. Instead, he shucks off your other shoe, bites back his smile, and sits back on his heels.

For a minute, the two of you stay that way: you gazing at him, him gazing right back at you. In every second that slips by in comfortable silence, he works to convince himself that the twinkle in your eye is a byproduct of the shots you took, nothing more. You’re smiling at him like that because you won’t have to sleep in your shoes tonight.

Right?

You nibble thoughtfully on your lower lip before your smile turns sheepish. “Chan?”

He’s not thinking that an angel gets its wings whenever you say his name, but he’s not not thinking that.

“The one and only,” he says with a nod, and he only cringes a little bit at his words, after the fact.

Whatever you want to say next seems to be stuck on its way out. In fact, you open and close your mouth twice to no avail. Patience is a virtue, and you are divine, so he waits there — on his knees, no less — and lets you take the lead. Your eyes flick from his face to the fidgeting fingers in your lap, then to the blank space at your side.

“It’s cold out,” you finally declare.

It’s July, but that’s neither here nor there.

“You shouldn’t have to walk home in this weather.”

The sky simply couldn’t be clearer, but Chan would take your word for it if you said that it was green.

“Maybe you should stay.”

He tries not to let the giddiness overtake him. Really, he does. He attempts to shrug nonchalantly, but it's more of a shiver than anything else, and he’s scrambling to his feet before he can chide himself for it.

You laugh — with your whole chest, no less — when he leaps into the spot beside you, settling flat on his back and grinning up at the ceiling. You’re still giggling when you mimic his graceless movements, still beaming when you turn your head to look at him. The air still feels electric, somehow, even after the laughter peters off.

A few moments pass, probably. He doesn’t notice them on their way out.

In a whisper that is actually a whisper, you say his name again, and it kicks off that wild thwump inside his chest.

“Yes?” He responds, much more quietly than his pulse in his ears.

You tug gently at the pillow under his head to draw attention to it. “You’ll probably end up smelling like me now.”

[ariestrxsh]

𐙚ྀི༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚, ✮⋆˙𐙚ྀི༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚, ✮⋆˙𐙚ྀི༘˚

⚠️ content warning: ⚠️ smut, praise, light punishment, spanking, public teasing, religious kink, sexualization of religious imagery, blasphemy, masturbation, fingering, dom!matt, possessive!matt

📝 author's note: 📝 this is part two, and you can access part one here. if you are religious, first of all, why are you reading this? secondly, please don't interact with this post! it will offend you. for those of you who couldn't get enough and asked for a part two, thanks for giving me a reason to write another part, you little freaks, bc i'm honestly in love with this version of matt. 💖

✍️ Summary: ✍️ Matt has convinced you that the only way for you to stay a good, pure Christian girl is to come to him for your sexual urges rather than anyone else. When you approach him for help again, he teaches you a little trick to keep you satisfied until the next time he sees you.

𐙚ྀི༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚, ✮⋆˙𐙚ྀི༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚, ✮⋆˙𐙚ྀི༘˚

coming down part two

"Matt, I'm getting that urge again," I told him, biting my lip and looking down at my feet as we stood underneath the same oak tree as last week. It was Wednesday, and we agreed that would be our meeting spot every week before service. "Meet me at my car after the sermon," Matt responded, tilting my chin up towards him with a long, slender finger. "You're such a good girl for coming to me. I know just how to satisfy your urges."

The whole time the preacher had the stage, I couldn't focus on what he was saying. My head buzzed with thoughts of Matt, the feeling of my hands in his hair while he ate me out, the sounds he made when he filled me, the way his voice got really low and raspy when he called me princess.

I held my Bible over my crossed legs and pressed my thighs together over and over as discreetly as I could to feel something, anything. And I prayed to God that no one would notice. Every once in a while, my eye would catch Matt's from across the room, and we'd share a quick but lustful look. I could tell we were both struggling to pay attention to the lesson.

Once service ended, I skipped off towards Matt's car. The air outside was warm, but there was a light breeze, and the sunset looked like cotton candy.

Matt beat me to the parking lot, and when we saw each other, he was leaning up against the hood of his car, biting his lip and smiling at me. He held the door open for me and extended his hand out for me to grab it, and when I did, he kissed the back of my hand. "You look so pretty in that polka dot dress," he said to me, making me blush. What a gentleman.

Matt got into the driver's seat, and before turning on the car, he glanced over at me. "Were you squeezing your thighs together in church on purpose?" He asked, his eyes narrowing and a smile forming on his lips. "I couldn't help it. I feel all wet and tingly down there," I said, embarrassed. "I didn't think anyone would notice."

"That was very naughty of you, princess, but don't worry. I don't think anyone did. I only noticed because I couldn't keep my eyes off you," Matt responded, tracing circles on my thigh with his fingertips. I breathed out a sigh of relief.

"You know, you can't be having naughty thoughts about me in church, pretty girl. I'm gonna have to teach you a lesson," Matt told me. "A lesson? What kind?" I asked, a mixture of fear and excitement in my voice. "You're gonna have to sit tight and find out," Matt said, turning the key in the ignition.

I'd never been to Matt's house, but I assumed that's where we were going. He looked over at me every few minutes as he drove, and at stop lights, he'd lean over and kiss me.

Once we pulled up to his house, he parked in the driveway and told me, "Nick and Chris are stopping for food on their way home, so we have some time, but not much.

I found myself in Matt's bedroom. He was clean and neat, and the lighting in his room was soft and not too bright. "Come here, angel. I have to give you a little punishment for getting all hot and bothered during the service," he smirked at me. My heart started to pound, and I swallowed hard. I didn't want to be punished. But I knew it was in my best interest to listen to him. "This is gonna hurt me more than it's gonna hurt you," he said sternly.

"Bend over," he ordered me, and he bent me over his knee and lifted up my dress, exposing my bottom. "Were you trying to tease me, princess? In the middle of church?" Matt cooed, rubbing gentle circles on my bottom. "No, I wasn't. I didn't mean for anyone to see," I whined.

"Do you have any idea how hard you made my cock?" Matt asked, talking through his teeth and I felt a loud slap! on my ass. I cried out in shock. "Take your punishment, princess," he smacked it again.

I wasn't sure what was wrong with me, but I liked it. Why did I like being punished if it was supposed to be a bad thing?

"What were you thinking about anyway, huh? Was it my cock? Or my tongue?" Matt whispered as his hand came down one more time, leaving another red hand mark. "Both," I admitted. "Next time you misbehave like that, it's five spankings," he warned me.

"I'm sorry, Matt. I didn't mean to," I looked down in shame once he was done. "I forgive you, princess. We all make mistakes, but our actions have consequences. Next, let's get you out of those pretty panties, and why don't you come sit on my lap," Matt replied. I did as he said, slid out of my lacey undergarments, and I sat on his lap with his right knee between my legs.

"Oh, sweetheart. Look at how wet you are. Is that from me punishing you? You liked it, didn't you? He cooed, spreading it open and peering down at my glistening pussy. Matt started teasing my slit with his fingers. I bit my lip, our eyes met, and I nodded at him. "Good girl. You took your punishment so well," he slipped a finger into my pussy and started pumping in and out gently.

I inhaled sharply, and I looked at him wide-eyed. I thought I had already experienced everything with Matt, but no one had ever put their fingers there, and it felt incredible.

"How's that feel?" He asked. "Like heaven," I answered, leaning back into him and rolling my eyes towards the back of my head. As I laid back into him, I could feel something poking me in his pants, and it just kept getting bigger and harder. He put in a second finger. "Oh, Matt," I whimpered, smiling at him. He watched my facial expressions intently while he played around with the pace at which he was moving his fingers in and out of me. I felt myself getting wetter by the second.

"Do you ever play with yourself, princess?" Matt inquired while a pool of wetness formed on Matt's leg from what he was doing to me. "I mean, I've tried, but I've never successfully finished," I nervously bit my lip while I stifled a whimper. "Show me how you do it, baby," he whispered.

With his fingers still inside of me, I started running the pads of my fingers over my folds, and it felt alright, but not as mind-blowing as when Matt played with me. "Do you remember that little spot right here?" Matt said, brushing over my clit with his thumb. "That's the sweet spot, princess. Start rubbing yourself there," Matt told me. He was such a good teacher.

It immediately started feeling even better when I took his advice and started touching that special spot. "Now play around with the technique. I think you like slow circles, but with a lot of pressure," he whispered. I did as he said, and boy, was he right. "Oh my goodness. That's amazing," I gasped. "Mmm. Good girl. You learn so fast," Matt whispered into my ear.

"That's how you masturbate, princess. But just because I showed you doesn't mean you can go doing it at church," Matt teased me. "You should only do this when you're by yourself or with me, and you should only ever think about me when you do it, okay?" He looked into my eyes to make sure I understood. "Yes, Matt," I nodded. "And just because I showed you this, doesn't mean you shouldn't still come to me when you need to be taken care of," he smiled at me, "just a little trick for when you're desparate."

He started finger fucking me a little faster, and I felt myself on the brink of another explosion happening. I continued to rub my clit in a circular motion like Matt had showed me. "Just relax into it, princess. Take slow, deep breaths," Matt whispered into my neck as I came undone around his digits.

I did as he told me, and I swear, purposely slowing down my breath added a whole new dimension to the rhythmic current of pleasure that overtook me. Time seemed to stop for just a moment, and I got lost in the sensual gratification I'd been mentally chasing since the last time Matt had me unraveling under his touch.

I came down from my orgasm like a feather floating to the ground, and a warm buzz lingered over my body for several minutes after I came. "Do you wanna know what you taste like?" Matt asked me, and I made an unsure face at him, but he held his fingers up to my lips, and I gently sucked on them. "Hmm. Tastes kinda weird," I told him. Matt licked his fingers clean while he looked at me, "I think you taste so sweet, princess."

Once we were finished, Matt helped me back into my panties. Then he changed his pants and gently teased me about the wet spot I made on his knee. "You were such a good girl for me today," he smirked. "Don't you want me to take care of you?" I asked, batting my eyelashes at him. "Of course I do, sweetheart, but I've gotta get you home and go pick up my brothers. What really matters is that we get you off. We can take care of me next week," he sweetly responded. "Matt, I can't wait until next Wednesday. I need you sooner than that," I whined desperately.

"Meet me under the oak tree on Sunday after church, princess," he brushed his thumb against my cheek while he looked at me with his blue eyes full of lust and hunger. "Let's get you home safe and sound, angel."

taglist: @ariithereyet @bsturnzmtt @sturnzluv @sturniolo-girl @strnlxlqve @sofieeeeex

(I kept the taglist short because I'm not sure if everyone who asked to be on my taglist wants to read this blasphemy, lol)

part three posted here 💖

[rachelsfav-queer]

Enid looking like this after tripping on the skateboard

Wednesday: I didn’t know you knew how to skateboard.

Enid turning around while holding Yoko’s skateboard: Oh yeah. I’m…. I’ve been doing it for years.

Wednesday: Really? Why don’t you show me a few movies then, huh?

Enid: *gulps* Uh…. Gladly.

The werewolf places the skateboard on the ground and gets on top of it

Enid: Here goes nothing-

-At the hospital-

Yoko bursts into the room to find Enid casted up in bed with Wednesday sitting beside her

Yoko: Oh my god what the hell happened?

Wednesday: She just tripped! I don’t know how!

Enid: I lied! I don’t know how to skateboard!