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#4 word prompt fic
creweemmaeec11 · 9 months
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Four-Word Sentence Prompts
I saw @creativepromptsforwriting do this, and it looked really fun, and I wanted to try coming up with my own. I hope they don't mind! (also I hope I didn't accidentally use one they did)
"You can't be serious,"
"This can't be happening,"
"We'll make it work,"
"I can't stop crying."
"I hate loving you,"
"I'll end it myself."
"I can't let you."
"Put the knife down."
"Please don't say that."
"Don't do this now,"
"I can't fix that."
"Stupid actions, stupid-er reactions"
"No milk, two sugars,"
"Kiss or kill me."
"Don't tell me lies."
"Don't leave me alone."
"Leave my dignity intact."
"Don't you fucking dare,"
"I'll kill you slowly,"
"One more, that's it,"
"There's no going back."
"Hate is awfully misleading,"
"It's gonna get worse,"
"Can I keep it?"
"Stop it, just stop,"
"You've lost your mind,"
"Pretend you're still ignorant,"
"Gravity seems strong today,"
"Blah blah, you blah."
"That a nice skeleton,"
"Don't try me, angel,"
"Devil's always taste better,"
"You could just ask,"
"You are so robotic,"
"Please lie to me,"
"Kill them for me,"
"I don't want you,"
"Guilt only grows grief,"
"Feeling regret is pointless,"
"So you admit it?"
"I could, you know,"
"The mystery grows deeper,"
"Oh please, you're joking!"
"Have a little faith,"
"Cry me a river,"
"We won, didn't we?"
"Did you do that?"
"What are you exactly?"
"Your heart is stupid,"
"Pick: loyalty or truth,"
"Just once, that's all"
"Am I still alive?"
"Pick a side already!"
"You look good confused"
"Don't say a word"
"Ready to feel regret?"
"I still see you"
"You baffle me sometimes"
"Feel the rush yet?"
"Let's go out screaming,"
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gunebuggiesprompts · 10 months
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Word of the Day dpxdc Prompt #4
July 8: rectitude
Jack and Maddie were once part of the League of Assassins as scientists. Due to their ghost knowledge, they studied the Lazarus Pits a lot. The pit demons are how they formed their bias on ghosts. This makes them think they're morally right with their decision to eradicate all ghosts/ectoplasmic beings. Whenever they left (for some reason, maybe they escaped from one of the bats coming), they took one of the test clones from a mix of Talia and Bruce's DNA. This would be Danny, who is biologically related to Bruce, and therefore Damian, who was the official son of the two. Comes out that Danny was actually the official first successful clone and the legitimate heir to the Demon Head and Bruce. Whenever Damian figures this out, he is outraged and refuses to call Danny his brother, while Danny is having a hard time coming to terms with this newfound life changing information and just wants somebody who he can talk to this about.
This also explains why he became a halfa instead of dying in the portal (SEVERAL TIMES) and how his body easily adapted to the change of DNA.
Optional (to go more with the word): Jack and Maddie find out about Danny being half ghost and think it's because of the Lazarus Pits, as they used some of it to create the clones. They then think that Danny must be inherently evil and that now he's showing signs of turning into a pit demon, they must get rid of him. Danny tries to explain to them about the portal and how he isn't evil, but they ARE NOT having it. He ends up running away to Gotham, where he learns everything above. Cue his life crisis and the fact he's related to a billionaire, and that his supposed brother hates him for some reason with the fact that his parents also now hate him and his life is kinda terrible.
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written for the march foxglove editorial, inspired by this drawing by @noenoaholi and beta'd by @fish-with-more-eyes/mac
There aren't a lot of things Atsumu likes to ignore, but Kiyoomi’s abysmal cooking skills are certainly one of them. Not a single person with working tastebuds or a functional sense of self-preservation would trust Kiyoomi in the kitchen. For the sake of his sanity, Atsumu likes to pretend Kiyoomi wasn’t ordering takeout on the regular before they moved in together.
Although if there’s one thing Kiyoomi can be trusted with, it’s baking desserts and using a blender. Atsumu has no idea why those two out of everything, but Kiyoomi’s cookies are to die for and his chocolate milkshakes are delicious. He’d brag about this if Kiyoomi didn’t have the shitty tendency to mix it up and make healthy drinks too.
They’re pungent, vile and disgusting.
They’re not even easy to make, what with a million and a half ingredients and three thousand steps. Atsumu wants to puke whenever he thinks of how much energy Kiyoomi puts into waking up early and making it for him. Sometimes there’s a lump in his throat choking him up if he thinks about it too long. He shoves the feeling down ruthlessly every time without fail: he doesn’t want to think about it.
Most days Kiyoomi can’t even be assed to get out of bed until the absolute latest he can get away with. And whenever he can, he traps Atsumu there too with his stupid long legs and stupid warm cuddles.
He’s up early this morning.
Kiyoomi’s side of their bed is empty; Atsumu finds him diligently chopping carrots in their kitchen.
“Omi-kun,” Atsumu whines, wrapping his arms around his sadist of a boyfriend and doing his best to resemble a kicked puppy, abandoned outside in the cold rain. “C’mon ya made this yesterday. Do ya gotta make it so often?”
“Drink it.” Unfortunately his boyfriend’s the most stubborn person Atsumu’s ever met. He’s ruthless and heartless. Kiyoomi shoves the glass of green yuck into his hands. “All of it.”
Atsumu sniffs haughtily and graciously pinches his nose; he chugs it all down in one. It’s bitter and foul and Atsumu wouldn’t do this for anyone else in the world.
He pauses.
His mouth is filled with the most disgusting drink while the pieces click into place: he loves Kiyoomi. It’s so on brand for them, he can’t help but laugh a little. Atsumu tunes Kiyoomi’s complaints about what he finds so funny out, and gives him a little kiss over his moles.
He starts planning out the most dramatic way possible to break it to Kiyoomi in his mind. He’s a little nervous, but the urge to make Kiyoomi regret the day he ever thought dating Atsumu would be a good idea wins out. His itch for mischief drowns any fleeting feelings of apprehension easily.
Atsumu’s grateful he can still taste that nasty green drink for the first time. It makes keeping the smile threatening to break out over his face at bay. Kiyoomi calls it his plotting face. Atsumu’s more inclined to call it his moment-of-genius face. His fun face. He’d go so far as to say it’s his handsome face, but that’s just his everyday.
Kiyoomi’s never going to see his confession coming.
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rollercoasterwords · 27 days
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just wondering how writing atwmd is going atm due to the slower updates? absolutely NO pressure whatsoever write at your own pace im just wondering since ive been hurt one too many times by abandoned fics and atwmd is honestly genuinely incredible i love it sm youre so talented, again 0 pressure literally just wondering
i updated a week ago lol what is ur frame of reference for “slower updates”…like i get that i’ve been updating more slowly than when i originally started posting the fic but ive still been posting consistently 1-2 times a month for like the past 6 months and i regularly answer questions abt the fic on this blog + talk abt my plans 4 it so i’m not really sure why you’d be worried abt it getting abandoned.
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lil-vibes · 10 months
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hc that chuuya doesn't get sick often, but when be DOES, it hits him like a train. he'll sustain fevers that should send his body into shock for days at a time. his skin becomes so, so sensitive that he will not tolerate anything touching it that isn't the three (3) very specific blankets that he bought for this specifically or dazai's hands (but only his hands)
he's so sensitive that touching dazai's bandages will make him retch but then again if his scars rubb a little too much onto chuuya's skin, he'll want to claw it off (chuuya feels very guilty abt this btw). once dazai realized what the issue was he blew like,,,, half of his monthly salary to have arm covers custom made with the same material as those blankets so he can touch chuuya without causing the other unnecessary pain next time he gets sicks
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quirkle2 · 2 years
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4 with Warriors? :D
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what's he excited about !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[expression challenge]
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rockingrobin69 · 2 years
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Try
For my beloved @phoebe-delia. Happy birthday!
Knitting wasn’t so much a decision as an accident—a Draco special, as it were, something only he could pull. It was his second week living in Harry’s place, fighting with the fire, poking and poking until fuck, he fell and ripped right through the throw blanket Molly-Bloody-Weasley made. With her own legendary two hands. Wrecked with guilt, with fear, with fuck-fuck-fuck and the never easing feeling this was it, the thing that’ll break it, this delicate peace between them, the thing that’ll make Harry—anyway, Draco had to fix it. Had to try. So he picked up a needle, and made a whole new mess.
The house wasn’t good for it, for him. In that it was, too good, far too good for his restless fingers, for his fuck-it spirit. Right at the edge of the forest (“Not out of the woods yet, are we, Potter”), far enough from the stream to be quiet, where he could think. Big windows to sit at and stare and stare and stare, waiting for deer to appear in the clearing, unafraid and light as rain. And rain—lying on Harry’s jacket in the attic, clutching his hand as thunder and chaos pelt the roof, always threatening to break through. Never succeeding—never even frightening, with Harry’s hand in his. With Harry’s heart in his smile. In the Cm’ere, in the shh, in the kisses, more delicate than any peace could ever be—
So he picked up knitting, when Harry was outside with his logs and his chainsaw and his fuck, no shirt on. And he took drawing, as Harry lay on the carpet before the fire working on his letters, radiant, smiling back at him—what? What’s so funny?—and he started gardening, a small patch in the back of the house, tomatoes and turnips and peas. He had too much, too much time to do everything, to do anything, to be free and—and he loved it, he loved it so much he felt sick. And Harry, and the habit of taking his hand all the time, the habit of looking him deep in the eye, of looking fond. How is anyone meant to survive this, being loved by Harry Potter? Making ceaseless fucking mistakes, and still being kept, still being held and kissed and treasured? How?
Like this: no decisions, per-se, but accidents, and chances and why-nots. And no shirts, and cooking from his own garden, and Flooing Molly with tears in his eyes (“Please please please teach me—“) and laughing like crazy, and fuck-its, and making the new throw blanket Slytherin green, because why not. Because it matches Harry’s eyes, those fond ones. And sitting very still and looking out for deer, for foxes and rabbits and squirrels. Waiting naked on the bed while Harry’s in the shower, happy-birthday—and singing at the top of his lungs, I just wanted you to know, this is me trying—
Accidents and mistakes, this was him trying. Dunno, seemed to work.
  (Day 4 of @flufftober​! Find all previous ficlets here, or on AO3!)  
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"Hey Elle, how is brainstorming for kinktober coming along?"
Um.
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It's happening. Just not very fast.
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wolflover2426 · 8 months
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Crack Prompt: After the defeat of Queen Banana, Marinette detransforms in a metal closet which locked her in and because it’s located in the basement of the school, no one could hear her pleas for help.
Meanwhile, Alya is waiting for Marinette and decides to pass the time by pulling out a banana from her lunch bag and placing a miniature wig with pigtails on the banana and pretended that it was Marinette. Tbh, Queen Banana was the most silliest akuma and Alya just wanted a good laugh.
Adrien rushes into class and took one look at the banana on the desk next to Alya and start panicking. He asked to Alya if that’s who he think it is.
Alya wanted to commit to the joke and said that “Yep, this is Marinette.” The class knows that Alya is just spouting nonsense but for Adrien, he took her words seriously.
The poor boy starts weeping and vows to have a chat with Ladybug because her cure didn’t heal his best friend (It could also lead to him getting bonked in the head and realizing he is in love)
Alya is too busy laughing on the ground and Nino is just confused and wondering if he just entered a soap opera.
This prompt was spawned thanks to this comic
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theinfinitedivides · 1 year
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33, ‘across the room’ for Rahul/Anjali???
आरपार. — lit. across. ( crossposted on ao3. one-shot. )
They do not have his father's blessing, but that does not change what already is. She is still sitting there, one arm settled above the slight swell of her stomach, and there is still the ghost of the warmth of the weight of his hand, the span of it, all finger to thumb spread across their son—she knows it is a son, draped beneath the fabric of her kameez—and then, still, the way that he has stopped weeping at last, and has crossed the length of the room, standing in the doorway as if he does not want her to hear him in case he resumes. He is silent for a long while, after that, shadow cast across the threshold, chasing after what little light is left, his gaze caught on the curve of her jhumka. It is, it seems, a distraction for him, something to buy time, but she does not prod. She knows that he will speak, eventually, and so she waits, and allows him this, since no one else will and there is no one else who has.
I hope, he says, once he has composed himself as best as he can, that I am not hurting you, but what he means to say is I hope I have not hurt you not with this never with this I would not be able to bear it. What he means to say, with that smile of his, hollowed out with grief, is that he does not want to burden her with the thought of a child, with the thought of someone who could make her a mother and then leave her, like he has had to leave his own. What he means to say, since the thought is already here, is that he does not know if he will be able to prevent it, this leaving, and he does not want to have to apologize. She hears all of this, somehow, and yet none of it. Even in this, there are the sound of bangles, still coming up from his throat, and she cannot smile. Even in this, his hands are still shaking.
So she calls him back, and lets her hands cord through his hair, and lets him press himself to her hipbone like he is afraid that she will break—like he is afraid that he will break—and says nothing. She does not think there is much more he can say in words, from that distance, that will allow itself to leave him. She does not think it will be worth it now if he tries.
(send me prompt requests!)
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purrvaire · 1 year
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I don’t really go here but steddie with 3 from the idiots in love prompts?
[ * dumps 1.5k words of absolute nonsense on your desk * thanks my dear for always sending me prompts, at this point you're single-handedly fueling my motivation to write :') hope you like it <3 ]
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3. And why do you think i’d ever like them? I have taste
Eddie maybe is going soft in his old age - just turned twenty one despite the attempts of the Upside Down to keep him away from drinking legally. Not that underage drinking is the most illegal thing he’s ever done, but still. It’s either that or admitting that he’s largely underestimated the munchkins' ability to meddle combined with their total disregard for the word no.
Either way, he fails to recognize he’s being ambushed long after he’s allowed Max inside the trailer and fed her the rock-hard cookies Wayne baked the day before in a burst of culinary inspiration. To her credit, she doesn’t even flinch when the first bite threatens to dislocate her jaw.
At that point, anyhow, Red has gotten nail polish apparently out of thin air and is waving her slender, little hands in front of his face expectantly.
“Don’t you have other people to harass in your free time?”
Max levels him with an unimpressed stare. “As if me being here is not the highlight of your day.”
Eddie sniffs. “Lies and slanders. I was busy.”
“Wanking is not being busy, Edward.”
Eddie gasps outraged. “I am appalled by your language. Where is the respect for your elders?”
“I thought you believed in challenging the authority”, Max says, her voice saccharine.
Eddie jabs a finger at her. “Not when the authority is me. Now, let me do your hands and then go be annoying elsewhere.”
Max hands him a periwinkle blue bottle and extends her hand with a sigh. As if she is the one doing Eddie a favor in letting him paint her nails.
The nerve.
“You know,” Max says, a couple of brush strokes in. “You’re starting to sound just like Steve.”
Eddie snorts. “I absolutely am not. Don’t speak jock just yet.”
Max waves her other hand impatiently. “I’m talking about the whole parenting schtick you inflict on us. Respect your elders. Don’t go where I can’t see you. Behave or else.”, she lists in a poor impression of his and Steve’s voices.
“Quit wriggling”, Eddie mutters. “I won’t be held accountable if my chef d’oeuvre gets messed up.”
Max cocks an eyebrow, as if he just proved her point - which, Eddie can admit, he kinda did -, but, blessedly decided to keep still. “Anyway”, she resumes, “I’m right. Steve even says we’ll make him go gray before his time, geez.”
“Can’t say he’s wrong. You dipshits are a handful.”
“I think Steve would make a gorgeous milf", she muses. "Don’t you?”
For a moment, Eddie actually contemplates the thought of an older Harrington, his luscious, thick hair all gone silver gray. The idea should be hilarious, it really should.
But, as his brain unhelpfully supplies, there’s no realm of possibility in which Steve Harrington is not painfully attractive.
When he comes back to his senses, he sees Max grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“Shut up”, he says immediately. He starts on her other hand with renewed focus.
Coming to his house just to put the virtual image of silver-fox Harrington in his brain.
Rude.
Max bats her lashes from behind the thick frame of her new glasses. “So, you do think Steve would make a gorgeous milf.”
“Never said such a thing.”
“But you thought it.”
“Did not.”
“You liiiike him.”
“And why do you think I’d ever like Steve?” Eddie drawls, feigning disinterest. “I have taste.”
Max snorts loudly. “Dude, you have many qualities but taste in men is not one of them.”
Eddie throws his hands in the air. “You don’t even know who I dated!”
Of course, calling it dating is a bit of a stretch. Living in a conservative little town in the middle of nowhere Indiana has never done wonders for his lovelife, and that was even before the murder charges.
“I saw the posters in your room”, she points out. “Besides, you and Steve are both lame, so it’s a match made in heaven.”
Eddie shakes his head. “Geez, thanks. I’ll make sure to tell him the next time I see him. Maybe I can’t get him to disown you.”
“And what would I inherit anyway? Your joint collection of hairspray cans?”
Eddie, with a surprisingly good aim, throws the dripping brush right at her nose. Max scrambles away with a shriek before retaliating with what remained from her half munched cookie.
Ten minutes later, they’re both lying down on the floor. Max’s nails are messed up beyond repair, crumbles are scattered in every corner of the room  and Eddie has got nail polish in his hair.
He inspects the raggedy carpet Wayne had installed some years ago in front of the sofa.
“Dude, this will be hell to clean later”, he complains, inching away from the bright pink stain and getting more comfortable on the floor.
“Tough luck”, Max replies unbothered, her head propped up on his legs. Then, more softly, she adds: “You know, it’s okay if you do like Steve.”
“I don’t”, Eddie replies weakly. Max ignores him.
“Sure, he’s lame and sometimes he nags too much, but he’s good, you know. Safe.”
She quiets, letting her words sit for a while between them. The late afternoon sun filters through curtains, making Max’s hair shine red gold. The noise of tires scratching on the gravel coming from the window temporarily fills the silence.
Safe, Eddie thinks. That’s a word he wouldn’t think he’d ever apply to Steve Harrington.
And yet.
“Yeah”, he says. “He is.”
He feels more than see Max nodding. “And also he’s hot”, she adds through a smirk.
Eddie laughs, pulling a little at her hair. “My, my, what would Lucas say if he knew you go around calling other boys hot.”
“What I say is my business”, Max replies dryly. “And you’re not denying it. You liiiike him.”
“Not this shit again!” he groans, but he can feel the smile pulling at the corner of his lips. 
“And you think Steve is…”
“You think I’m what?”
Eddie scrambles up so fast that Max shrieks and almost bangs her head on the floor.
Steve looks at them both with a bemused expression on his face.
Eddie blinks up at him. “Harrington, what- what are you doing here?”
“The door was open”, Steve supplies unhelpfully. “And I’m here to pick up Max, didn’t she tell you?”
Max, still half sprawled on the floor, has the audacity to smirk.
“It must have slipped my mind.”
Eddie narrows his eyes. What the fuck did you do? he tries to convey.
Watch and learn, dumbass, Max’s lazy grin says back.
“Steve, actually, I think I might head home, after all”, she says, with an apologetic tone that would fool no one who has spent more than a minute in her company. “I’m tired and my hip feels funny”.
Eddie would gasp at the audacity of pulling the I-barely-survived-the-monster-fucked-up-dimension card if he was not worried about her next move.
Steve, bless his kind soul, falls for it. “That’s what you get for sitting on the floor without pillows and shit”, he grumbles, but he crouches down and bodily picks Max up and helps her on her feet.
Which, mind you, it’s not that difficult since Max is skin and bones but Eddie might need a minute or two here to recover from this image.
Thank fuck, he’s already on the floor or he would have swooned.
Then, Max goes in for the kill. “Well, since you’re already here you could hang out with Eddie instead. Be lame together or whatever.”
Eddie’s eyes pop so wide open that they threaten to fall on the floor beside him.
He kinda wants to scream so that was your plan all along! while dramatically clutching at his fake pearls or something.
Harrington looks down at him, a half smile on his face. “Well, if Eddie doesn’t mind, why not”, he shrugs.
Eddie doesn’t know if it’s wishful thinking or not, but he thinks Steve looks almost hopeful.
“Yeah, sure, whatever”, he manages to say.
“Cool.” Steve claps his hands. “I’ll take Mayfield home and then we can hang out.”
“I live literally next door, Mom.”
Eddie watches them walking all the way to the Mayfield’s trailer and very pointedly does not freak out at his evening prospects. Max shoves Steve rather forcefully for someone who had just claimed that her hip hurt and he ruffles her hair.
He hears them bickering until their voices fade and he goes inside in search for a movie to watch with Steve. 
***
(“Are you sure he doesn’t know that we set this up?”
“We? I did everything while you stood there looking dumb.”
“That’s what you told me to do, actually.”
“Whatever. And yes, I am. God, you’re both so besotted with each other it pains me.”
“Robin said the same thing.”
“She’s right. I don’t know why I don’t hang out with her instead of you idiots.”
“God forbid. You’ll start ganging up on me worse than you already do.”
“Scared, Harrington?”
“As every wise man should.” A pause. “So… you’re sure he likes me.”
“Positive.”
“100% sure?”
“Yes. God.” A shove. “Go get your man.”
Steve smiles and ruffles her hair. “Will do, Mayfield. Will do.”)
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.
.
send me a prompt from this list <3
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parcfermekisses · 2 years
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Kinktober – Days 23/24 Food Play: Lando / Max F
Lando pads back into the room with a paper carrier bag that he sets on the bed, then sits cross-legged beside it. Max hooks a finger over the edge to see what's in there, but Lando swipes at him. 
"You'll ruin the surprise. Don't look." 
Max can see him holding his breath until he moves his hand. He's got no idea what's going on – he was hoping for breakfast in bed, if he's honest – but Lando is vibrating with the sort of energy that means he's got a Plan.
"Okay," says Max. He can smell something vaguely buttery and his stomach rumbles. 
"Sit up. Don't look." 
Max rolls over and pushes until he's upright against the headboard. He catches a glimpse of neatly packaged containers, part of a logo, before Lando puts his hand over the top of the bag. 
"Stop it. Don't make me blindfold you." Lando pauses. "Although I could. If you want?"
Max grins and scrubs through his hair, trying to force it into what he hopes is sexy bedhead, not just actual bedhead. Lando's looking at him expectantly and he realises he's genuinely waiting for an answer, slightly hopeful. He shoves Lando gently on the shoulder. "If it'll stop you telling me not to look every two seconds." 
There's another pause as it becomes apparent this wasn’t part of the Plan, then Lando leans over to rummage in his bedside drawer, one hand still guarding the bag, until he triumphantly pulls out an airline amenity kit. He tugs the zip open with teeth and offers the contents to Max. 
"Are you implying I have morning breath?" asks Max, mock offended. As if that's ever stopped them. 
"The mask, you muppet," Lando says, upending the pouch into Max's lap with a shake then tossing everything that isn't the thin but functional sleep mask over the side of the bed. 
"All right, all right! I got it." Max follows the trajectory of a miniature toothpaste skittering under the dresser and tries to remember to retrieve it later. He pulls the mask over his head, down over his eyes. "Happy?" 
Lando hums in answer and wriggles closer, his knee against Max's thigh. Max can hear paper rustling, a cardboard box being opened. “Open your mouth,” says Lando.
It’s soft and slightly flaky, the first thing that Lando gives him. Warm. Almost certainly explains the buttery aroma. “Did you get croissants fro—” He doesn’t get to finish the sentence before Lando’s pushing another piece into his mouth.
“Yeah,” says Lando, and Max can hear his ridiculously soft smile. “ ’s where we had our first breakfast here.”
Max reaches for the leg he can feel pushed against his and squeezes. “Can I take the mask off?” He doesn’t say any of the other things he’s thinking, about how Lando couldn’t remember his birthday if his life depended on it, and how that doesn’t really matter because it’s remembering first breakfasts and second dates and last kisses that make a life together.
Lando nods, uselessly, then finds his voice, holding out the rest of the croissant as Max blinks him back into focus. Max takes it. “Don’t suppose there’s OJ in there, too, is there?” 
He already knows there will be.
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jmflowers · 2 years
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been working on a piece for a few months - a sequel to travel light if you will - which is intended to begin the collection of the later years in Hygge universe
but I keep finding myself writing this one section in different ways, having it unfold in different locations and with different responses so that I now have four or five versions (at least) of just this one singular moment in time
to the point that I just sent another bit to @lacallemojada and she said, and I quote: “you’ll probably change it, but at least I got to read it, gracias!!!!”
y’all… y’all… am I too type A when it comes to writing?
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tennessoui · 2 years
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Hey Kit, first of all I hope you’re having a great day!! Second, this is a long damn shot but you are one of the most prolific and connected Obikin writers out there so.
Back when I first started getting into Obikin, I read a song prompt one-shot/ficlet on tumblr. The song was Dark Horse by Amanda Mitchell and I have been thinking about that ficlet without being able to find it ever since. Did you write it, or remember it?
i am so sorry i do not know this!!!
would any of my followers perhaps?
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hjemne · 5 months
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I hate writing I hate writing I hate writing I hate writing I hate writing I am so good at writing plans of what I want to happen but the moment I have to actually write in actual sentences my will to live implodes
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melonn-soda · 4 months
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❝ PERSONAL STREAM (A Little Too Personal..) ❞
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word count: 1.9k
warnings: subbot! cis male reader, domtop! cis male kamo choso, camboy! choso, slight dumbification?, praise kink, reader referred to as a size queen (term is used for a man), mention of edging (choso), mentions/descriptions of manhandling
prompt: congratulations! you just won a solo fan call with your favorite camboy! hope you have fun watching him getting off to you being just the goodest boy ever :)
notes: a gift for and and idea from @sooniebby I jus made it into a choso fic. I've been holding it off for a while now, I think. this isn't as good as had wanted it to be but it's fine regardless. not beta read, sorry not sorry
fem aligned dni
you can’t believe it.
you actually can’t believe what you’re reading right now.
in your email inbox, something you barely ever check unless needed to, had a message from the user of a porn website (not your proudest moment) that you signed up on just to watch his videos, telling you that you won this month’s drawing. you had to stand up, walk around, eat breakfast, and come back to your computer to see if it was still there. if it was still real. you swore you’ve never felt so excited yet so scared in your life.
to know that, somehow, you won that solo fan call, to know that he’ll be jerking off for you, to know that no one else can see him but you, talking to you, and- shit. you were getting hard. you looked back at your computer screen. the email is still there. you’re not crazy. you feel like you are though.
the roll of the cheap gaming chair you bought from amazon sounded muffled in your ears as you backed away from your computer, getting up to get ready for the day with that email still lingering like an itch on your scalp that you can’t seem to satisfy. you need to get to work.
your co-workers noticed the blank stare in your eyes as you slipped on your chef coat and pants, hands on autopilot as you tucked hair into your hat and tied the apron around your waist. it smelled of fresh detergent since they just washed your uniform. your friend had to even point out that you cut your finger when dicing onions because you were too out of it to even notice. or was it that working in the food industry made your fingers numb to the sensation since it happens so many times? ... huh.
when you got back home, you opened up the email again. it’s still there. it’s still real. did you want it to be fake? part of you says yes but the majority of you hoped not. i mean, you’ve been following this guy for.. what, months now? lord knows how much money you’ve sent to him. he wants to start the call at 7pm on discord.
you thought he might use something else other than that app but he was probably just using an alternative account and he most likely changes his user after every raffle. if you were him, you would do the same thing.
...
you should probably take a shower.
it was 6:40 and your hair was still damp with water, towel resting on your shoulders to catch any stray droplets from getting your shirt wet. you kind of wanted to back out. the fear of being one to one with the camboy you’ve been fantasizing about for a long while now was scaring you a bit.
fingers fidgeting with the paper stars littering your desk and your foot rapidly tapping against the floor, you watched the seconds go by on your desktop. your dominant hand reaches for your mouse and highlights his username to copy it and paste it onto the add user section, sending the friend request to see that he accepts it not even 2 minutes later. ...was he getting ready?
your webcam was sitting on your desk, not properly hooked onto the top of your computer. it was plugged in but you hardly ever use it so it just sits where it is. should you set it up? ..no, you didn’t feel like it. your mic was completely ready though, as always. you and your friends would always play together on call, so it was your most used piece of equipment.
4 minutes.
your stomach twisted in anxiety.
choso sighed as he applied lotion all over his torso, all too used to the way he prepared everything during streams and bonus videos locked behind an even bigger paywall. this sidegig he was doing felt like a chore sometimes but money was money, and by god did this account make him a lot of it.
lots of women flocked to his account, entranced by the way his voice stuttered whenever he close, his hips that instinctively jerked because his hand wasn’t able to move any faster, and the whimpers that teared into the mic when he came all over his hands and milked himself for all that he’s worth. they mostly talked about how perfect his dick looked but that was an average comment in his chat.
he saw the friend request notification pop up on his computer and figured he’d at least get his cock hard before the call even started. he put on some random porno in the background, stroking himself with little care and when he got half-hard, he figured that would’ve been enough. he accepted the friend request and close the tab with the video playing, looking over to see that he had 4 minutes until he would start the call.
fingers moving expertisley across the keyboard, he made sure to tell you that the first 30 minutes of this session was free, any longer and you would have to start paying up. you replied with a very short, “got it.” and left it at that. you seemed to type out something more before it quickly went away, causing choso to raise an eyebrow. were you scared?
35 seconds.
choso was getting tired of waiting, so he began the call. unbeknownst to him, you freaked out when you heard the ringtone rumble through your speakers, hesitating to accept the call. in the end, you did anyway because you didn’t have to pay for this private session for 30 whole minutes.
the half-curse’s hand went back to his dick, stroking it with barely any passion behind his movements. however, he wasn’t expecting to see the face of the winner from the drawing within 5 minutes of the call, teeth biting into his fist as his other hand’s fingers worked himself open. choso swore he was no longer half-hard, dick twitching to life in his hands, pre already leaking from the tip of his cock.
he was used to mostly knowing that women were behind the screen and heavily suspected that you might’ve been one- but fuck, to know that another man was getting off to his voice, his cock, drove him wild.
maybe he’ll get rid of that 30 minute rule.
you didn’t mean to turn your webcam on.
you could feel your stomach sink when you could see yourself on full display for the camboy in the discord call. it was too late to turn it off now. whatever. you only live once.
“aren’t you just the cutest?” you aren’t sure why you flinched but the way his voice carried those words certainly got you feeling things, “how about you turn your mic on too, yeah? wanna hear your pretty voice.”
shakily, the hand you were biting on reaches for your mouse and you click unmute. your fingers that were inside you accidentally pressed against your prostate, causing a loud moan to fall from your lips, immediately slapping your hand over your mouth to silence yourself. you don’t want to get a noise complaint from the neighbors... again. the first time having to explain that to an officer was embarrassing enough.
“good boy,” he grunts into the mic, bucking his hips up with a loud smack coming from his end of the call, “jus’ the sweetest little thing, aren’t ya? betcha’d be just absolutely adorable if i were to fuck you stupid. it hasn’t even been 15 minutes and you’re drooling all over your pretty fingers.”
you didn’t even notice that you’ve been panting so much that spit began to run down your chin, too absorbed in the way the camboy’s dick spilled even more pre over his massive hands. fuck, just how strong could he be? could he manhandle you? yank your head back using your hair as a handle while blowing your back out? shove you down on his cock because you simply weren’t riding him fast enough?
“you got a dildo on you, baby?” he asks you, his hand slowing down to a stop. his words pulled you out of your abundance of fantasies to shift your focus back into reality, vision a little blurry from the tears resting on your eyelids.
you managed to fumble out a small, “mhmm..” just loud enough for him to hear and he tells you to grab it. in a slight daze, you reach into one of your many desk drawers to pull out the toy that sat in its box, already cleaned from its prior use.
“do a favor for me, yeah? put it in nice and slow, imagine it’s my cock stuffing you full. how big ‘s your toy? five- six inches?” he sure likes to ask a lot of stuff, you notice.
“‘s seven..” you mutter, wincing when you push the toy inside your hole, stretching you full and your mind goes numb.
he chuckles, deep and breathy and shit- “so you’re a size queen? that’s what they call it, right?” he starts pumping his fist around his cock again, albeit slower than before. you would take a bet that he was edging himself, “that’s it. such a good boy f’me.”
legs quaking in place, you managed to get it all inside you. sitting on it was much harder on your chair than you anticipated, the current position you were holding getting uncomfortable. cautiously, you lifted your hips, wrapping your hand around your own dick and giving it a few strokes while breathy moans left your lips, slamming yourself back down on the dildo. your eyes widened in surprise as the tip of it pressed against your prostate, a loud whimper echoing throughout your room.
“fuck-! you’re so cute, mmph- k-keep going, baby. i’m getting close- ah!” you could see that his hand was moving much faster than when you last looked up at your camera, quick breaths and filthy pleas paired with the desperate thrusts of his hips.
 stumbled cries left your lips when you began to keep up with his pace, fingers getting sticky with pre as you continue to stimulate yourself. through blurred tears, you could see his hips rut one last time before a stifled moan left his throat and his fist was coated with his cum, dripping onto his pants.
he winces at the overstimulation from just shifting his hand to let go of his softening cock, grabbing a tissue to clean himself up while watching you bounce up and down your toy. you could even say he was jealous. even so, he could tell you were pathetically chasing your own orgasm, breathy sighs escaping from the confines of your lips. eyes closed in slight shame yet concentration, your thumb came up to the tip of your dick and rubbed, causing a yelp to slip through and your eyes opened once more.
however, you weren’t expecting to see the gorgeous face behind the creator of all those inappropriate streams you’ve watched the second your hips slammed back down on the dildo. 
“[name]..”
ropes of your own release spilling out of your dick, it finally registered in your head that the camboy was willingly letting you see this. your thighs quaked not only in nervousness but also in fear that you might get a boner again just from how handsome he was. his face was pale although dusted with a bright hue of red covering his cheeks, eyebags signaling a lack of sleep, he had some sort of black line going over the bridge of his nose and cheekbones, and slightly messy black hair tied up into short ponytails. if he wasn't attractive to anyone, he was at least attractive to you.
his pretty and slightly plump lips opened to speak once more, “do you.. wanna meet up in person..?”
“h-huh...?”
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