#what i'm writing

[5ivebyfive]

💐💐💐

“Are you sure it’s what you need?” Emily asked. “I mean, is it what you want?”

“Yes,” JJ said strongly.

“Okay.” Emily took a deep breath and let it out. “I don’t know, JJ.” JJ’s heart stopped for a moment before beating again. “You have no idea how much I want that, but if this is some…single night of regret…I can’t be the one.”

“No, Em.” She squeezed Emily’s hand. “It took me a long time to…understand what I was feeling and wanting, but I know. I want this.” Emily reached her free hand up to brush JJ’s hair behind her ear. JJ’s eyes fluttered shut at the touch.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” Emily asked softly. And JJ felt warmer. She needed that praise.

[izzythedemigod]

I just found the funniest font ever

Like. What is this. Why is this. Who is the target audience of this?

[bookwyrminspiration]

sometimes a theme recurs in your work without your permission. and sometimes it reaches a threshold where you're like. well now i think this is saying something about me against my will. don't know what though

[anexistingexistence]

Yes I want to write my story but my story doesn't want to be written so what the fuck am I supposed to do about that huh?

[cmrosens]

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[keypostos]

fem!reader. a bit suggestive. caleb can't get enough of you tbh.

caleb once told you that there's a side of him that he didn't want you to see. he wanted to be strong for you. truly, he was trying his hardest to hold on.

when he first said that, you thought it would have to do with his urges to possess you and watch over you.

turns out, the truth is that caleb is clingy as hell.

you're twirling around in a new dress that the two of you thrifted earlier. it's flowy, light-colored, and it makes you look like a deity in caleb's eyes. the dress falls right below your knees—perfect for summer.

you walk towards him on the bed, spinning in circles to give him a closer look. all of a sudden, you stop; you feel big, calloused, warm hands on your waist and look down to see caleb gawking up at you.

he pulls you in closer to his body and decides to rest his head in the middle of your boobs. he closes his eyes and his grip on your waist loosens. caleb lets out a long, content sigh.

caleb rubs circles on your waist, then says, "i can't decide if i want you to keep this dress on or off."

"caleb!" you gently swat at his hand, but he just presses his head deeper into your chest.

that was one of his more tame days.

a few nights ago, you were enjoying a night shower alone. when you hear the door creak open, you don't have to look to know it's caleb.

you can hear him dropping his heavy colonel jacket, belt, slacks—everything. because you've missed him, you poke your head out from the shower curtain, and the sight of you visibly relaxes caleb.

"hi, handsome."

for someone so exhausted, caleb has a stupid grin on his face when he replies, "hi, beautiful."

he stumbles in a little bit, and you two end up pressed against the shower wall. caleb's hand is on your waist to make sure you don't slip. he shakes his head like a dog trying to get wet hair out of his eyes. you can't help but smile at him, brushing his hair around to help him out.

caleb's tense exterior dissipates at your hand. in a second, he pulls your bare body against his. you can feel his chest against yours; he's taking deepest breaths while holding you against him. his hand travels throughout your body: from your shoulders to the small of your back to the curve of your ass, he's rubbing his hands all over you.

he sags his body on top of yours for a second before pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

you two rock back and forth in the shower while he mumbles, "'m sorry. missed you," he presses a kiss onto your shoulder, "missed you sooo much. all i could think about was you today. 'm sorry. i'm clingy."

and then there was today, where caleb decided to follow you for a majority of the time.

you would sit on the couch, watching some tv, and caleb would follow. he'd pull your legs up to rest on his lap, massaging at your ankles and feet.

you're doing laundry, and suddenly caleb props up next to you. you raise an eyebrow to see if he's doing anything distracting or suspicious, and he just responds with a playful shrug.

you shake him off, and then you're abruptly disrupted by caleb tickling you. before you can strike back, caleb laughs—that stupid, loud laugh he makes when he's about to do something awful—and picks you up to lay you over his shoulder. he runs around with you thumping on his broad back, demanding him to put you down just like when you were kids.

and then at dinner, caleb decides that eating across from you is too far away, and he has to eat right next to you to be satisfied. he lays his head on your shoulder, reading through some articles on his phone while you read over him. he also feeds you every now and then, offering you some favorite pieces from his plate as he lays on you.

tonight, after spending the whole day with you, he spoons you while going to sleep. his arms are linked protectively around your waist, and every now and then, caleb nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck.

you make sure to get your pictures before reaching back and running your hands through his hair. he tilts his head closer to you and sighs in satisfaction.

you laugh at his evident delight; the sound makes caleb scrunch up his nose. you turn your head back slightly to talk to him, "don't you know you'll be sick of me soon if you keep this up?"

caleb's head jerks up from the crook of your neck. his eyebrows draw closely together and his eyes nearly bulge out of his head.

"don't ever say that again."

until he falls asleep, he litters your body with kisses until you realize that he's never, ever, getting sick of you. ever.

[hiddenbysuccubi]

I'm a Slave To The Narrative Always

[m4rs-ex3]

andrew, who is hopelessly devoted and desperately in love: i hope you get curbstomped. neil, stupid demisexual who could not have less of a clue and doesn't know what romance is: you just want me to stop asking you questions. too bad. i have to know you, because how else am i ever supposed to know myself? my soul was welded to yours with the heat of my heart the first time you set it on fire. let me in, andrew. that's all i can hope for. can we go play exy

[5ivebyfive]

🌹

note: I was trying something out with turning sweet love into poison, but I don't like it, so this isn't gonna be in Kim's POV when it's posted. But thought you'd like it anyway.

“Why did you let her do it?” She asks again, more desperate. She needs to know. She needs Tommy to go back and do it over and not let Trini break her heart.

“We argued about it," Tommy said. "A lot. Even after. I told her she was being stupid, but she didn’t want to hear it. She genuinely thought she was doing what was best for you. I don’t agree with it, but I stand by her. No matter what.”

“You were there for all of it with her…” Kim muses. “The worst parts, the sick nights, and…I wasn’t.” It aches inside of her. Knowing now what she knows. What Trini went through, and what it was possibly like for her. She’s done so much reading since finding out. 

[lazylittledragon]

if i had a nickel for every au spawned from twitter that i SWORE i was going to be normal about

[sparrowlucero]

genuinely find it fascinating how much fantasy writing discussion/advice online is centered around the struggle of making a dndish/tolkien rip off fantasy world stand out and feel different than the others, and regularly comes to the conclusion that to succeed at this you should focus even harder on realistically detailing the cultures of the elves/humans/orcs/dwarves/whatever random group of fantasy peoples are hanging around (the thing most of these projects already massively focus on) in the hopes that yours is simply the most vivid and evocative ever, as opposed to, like, just writing anything else

[lizardkingeliot]

i'm still not over the cheek smooch. i will never be over the cheek smooch.

[yfere]

ok, the OTHER thing is that Tamsyn Muir's writing style is -- it's exactly everything I've ever wanted or loved. By turns insanely technical, rich, evocative, and also *deeply* irreverent. You have high level vocabulary and an obvious love for language and worldbuilding pressed right up against the memes and sex jokes. There's nothing better. and it's even better that it very much isn't one-note, that she has a strong understanding of character voice, which is *so* important in this story where souls are all possessing each other's bodies. I fell in love with Gideon and Harrow, but I was just as struck and pleased with Nona, so happy seeing the language pare down and simplify, as the tone of the story morphed perfectly to match Nona's own way of perceiving the world around her. what a writer

[pseudowho]

18+, touch-starved, 'waiting' gentleman Nanami Kento, male masturbation over the clothes

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"But...does this count?" you whispered against Nanami Kento's neck, your hand trailing down to the curved tenting at the front of his tan trousers. He jolted, grunting, involuntarily bucking against your palm.

He was a gentleman; one who waited; one who longed. Certainly not one to turn his back on due diligence, and favouring flowers over fondling. Any girlfriend whom he intended to become his wife, would only be taken by him after a societally appropriate time.

But how long would this be? With you, a day felt like a month; a month, years. With how you smiled against his throat, he knew, from every twitch of his touch-starved body, that even a gentleman may meet his resolve's end sooner than planned.

"It...it counts," Kento choked, his body betraying him to roll his hips and the straining underside of his cock up against your palm. "I...I shouldn't. You deserve-- deserve--"

"...deserve to know the face of your pleasure, before you come inside me?" Kento froze, paralysed by the honesty, the filth of your words. He felt his cock twitch beneath your palm when you spoke again, lower this time. "Yes. Yes, I do. So..."

"I-- I don't-- haaaah," Kento cried, hoarse and breathy, for a twitch almost as bone-deep as one when he spilled himself, shivered through his length. He felt the dribble of pre-cum soak through his trousers; he saw it, too, the sticky fluid staining the pale material to beige. You felt it, too; you saw it, too. Kento knew he was a goner, when you bit your lip beneath dilating pupils.

You cupped your hand around the length of his cock, moulding his boxers and trousers to his shape, and slowly, rhythmically, beginning to jack him off through his clothes. Kento humped up desperately, dishevelled and panting, and touch-starved, so touch-starved--

"Feels good?" you whispered, suckling his throat to leave rose petals on his skin. Kento only groaned; husky, shuddering, coming undone embarrassingly quickly. Touch without touch was so illicit, so debauched, for one so corseted as he.

"Feels...feels...like I'm going to come in my boxers like a boy--" Kento growled, tangling his fingers through your hair to keep your lips on his throat.

"Would that be so bad?" you murmured against his pulse point, your tongue dipping out to taste the desperation off his skin. Your hand sped up, gliding around the length of him.

Your eyes closed to imagine it was his bare cock in your hand, instead. Your eyes closed, to imagine how the shape of him would fit every plush facet of your insides. You shivered; Kento moaned. You felt him hardening even further; felt the ghost of veins, standing proud, winding around his cock like desire paths.

The gentleman was gone, now; the needy remained.

"Don't stop," panted Kento, fucking up into your palm with every smooth masturbatory motion that your hand made around him, "--just--just like that-- don't stop-- I...I'll..."

Trailing your lips from his jaw to his mouth, you pressed a chaste little peck to his lips; but it was when your tongue swiped over his lower lip, that he met his undoing.

Your hand pumped only two more fabric-frictioned long pumps...before Kento held his breath. His jaw dropped in a silent gasp. His hand tightened in your hair, the other pressing dimples into the divot of your waist. And you felt him spill.

Kento moaned with every twitch of his cock, leaping and spurting beneath tan confines. You watched, fascinated, to see him come apart with each bucking spill, each deepening stain that spread beneath his clothes. His face, twisted in divine agony, would be seated into your mind until he took you, pinned and begging his name, for the first time.

"--f-fuck...o-ooohhh f-fuck...p-pathetic...so pathetic--"

"--hot, actually--"

A rough, gravelly cough; a mirthless laugh, with his final weak spatters of cum.

"...you...will be the end of me...I swear on my life..."

Kento opened one slim, brown eye, regarding your gleeful lip-biting with a huff. He had almost pulled himself together...until you dipped down to the cum-stain on his crotch, and fixed your mouth around it, sucking through the saturated fabric and dipping out your tongue to taste him.

Kento whimpered, bucking weakly against your lips, for you had broken him once, and twice, and now thrice, and he wondered how he would ever survive--

"...taste amazing, Kento."

Four times. Kento flipped you beneath him, pinning you to the sofa with sadistic satisfaction at the look of shock on your face.

He blew upwards, wisping commas of blond off his sweaty forehead. He curled one long finger into his tie, loosening it with one violent tug.

"I've had enough of you, madam. If you won't treat me like a gentleman, then I shan't be."

[katsu2ji]

katsuki LOVES seeing you spend his money. you tell him you're having a bad day? he's sending you some money and telling you to buy something nice for yourself. you guys are going out on a date? he reminds you not to bring your wallet—he's got it. and you've reminded him time and time again that he doesn't have to do any of that, that you feel bad spending his money!!! but he doesn't care.

he reminds you every time that he wants to spend his money on you, no matter how big or small. he knows full well that you can pay for the things he buys you. he knows how hard you work for your money, how dedicated you are to your job.

but if he's there, why should you have to worry about anything at all?

katsu2ji © 2025. please don't copy, modify, or do anything of the sort with my work! i work very hard and you simply do not have my permission.

[fixyourwritinghabits]

NaNo Alternatives

Okay, real post time (but keep those boops booping) - You want to do NaNoWriMo tomorrow, but you don't want to go anywhere near the main organization and their website. Here's a list of alternatives you can try:

Rogue Writers - International group launched to provide an alternative for writers. Their website has challenges, free tools, and more.

myWriteClub - Word tracking tool.

Novlr - A writing app designed to help you meet your writing goals.

WriteTrack - Word tracking tool.

Shut Up and Write - Find in-person or online groups to write together with!

NoQuWriCo - A November writing challenge with tools, tips, and encouragement to make it through the month! (Thanks to someone letting me know - this is a Christian alternative. Try another if that does not appeal to you!)

Writing Month - Write. A Month. Do It.

Your local library - If you did NaNo events through your library, chances are they're still doing it this year. Make sure you check in with all the resources you've used in the past, as they're likely still around.

Whatever you decide to do tomorrow, good luck! And remember, if you want to still use the NaNo website but don't like their AI policies and the rest of it, just don't give them money! Laugh to yourself, evilly, as you update your word count. It's very validating.

(Now back to booping.)