there's something deeply gutting about being a writer right now. watching studio execs brag about starving people like you out of your very house just to not pay you anything above the pennies you currently make. watching some people cheer over AO3 being targeted for a DDOS attack. the complete lack of profitability of writing commissions or writing in general in transformative spaces, especially in contrast to fanart. the pivot of so many social media platforms to be video and image based near-exclusively.
I don't know. it just makes me sad to know that the hobby that kept me alive while growing up homeschooled with dial-up internet and local antenna TV... is only ever gonna be a side job with minimal engagement. I know this site is good about supporting libraries and the concept of books but, do me a favor? Reach out to a writer friend you know. Leave a comment on your last five read stories on your favorite website.
Tell us you care.
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But like literally imagine Kirishima or someone knowing Dragon King Bakugou is still a virgin, so as an offering they bring him you.
You’re a vicious little thing really, trying to fight these huge hulking men with no weapons but your bare hands. Your nails already caught the side of Sero’s face as he’s sporting some pink scratches that look more like the claws of a kitten than anything else.
And it isn’t like you have anything left to fight for— your friends, family and village are gone. Reduced to nothing but burning embers from the flames of the King’s loyal dragon.
But here you are, displaying the fight that is still very much alive in you as Bakugou stares down at you in a mixture of confusion and admiration. Smirking at the marks you’ve left on Sero’s face as you struggle against Kirishima’s hold.
And he just doesn’t know what to do with you?? Like this big, strong, powerful hulking man doesn’t have a clue.
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I brought the skirt I'm working on to the museum yesterday, to get some hand-sewing done at the desk between tours (a lot of my projects end up being done half-hand and half-machine, because I love working on the train or during downtime at my various jobs). you know, the one made of the God-Tier WoolTM
when I invited my coworker, a 19-year-old student, to feel the fabric- in that "OH MY GOD FEEL THIS!!!" tone -her jaw dropped
she had never felt soft, light- or even medium-weight wool in her life. she previously thought, it turns out, that all wool was coarse, heavy, and itchy. she couldn't stop stroking it with that awestruck look on her face
truly, fuck fast fashion and the modern garment industry. for depriving us of sensory richness in our clothing so thoroughly that most of us don't even know what we've lost
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Sub Bucky and a breeding kink 💀 dead unlived it's one of my favourite things 😌
This is pretty high up there on my list of dream fantasies 🥵 these are two of my biggest weaknesses, don't even look at me rn
One of life's greatest joys is cuddling with the other person's head resting on your chest so you can play with their hair and rub their shoulders. I love that shit, having someone else's body weight on you is so comforting.
I imagine that's something Bucky would really enjoy too. It's so soft and sweet and tender and getting to feel cared for would really appeal to him.
But that's up until his hands work their way under your top, up over your bare skin so he's able to cup your breasts and bury his face between them while he's getting his hair played with. Life's pleasures don't get much simpler than that.
After a few moments he shifts slightly, tugging the neckline of your shirt out of the way to give himself space to kiss and nip your skin. All of a sudden he's desperate and it's beautiful to watch.
"Please." He whispers between frantic kisses, flicking his tongue over the stiff peak of your nipple before engulfing it with his warm, eager mouth.
"Please, what?" You tease, tugging on his hair just a little for emphasis.
He groans, frustrated by his own lack of coherence, pulling his mouth from your nipple. "Please let me put a baby in you."
That's not what you were expecting but fuck, he makes it sound pretty appealing.
"Bucky-" You begin but he cuts you off, giving your other nipple the same attention as he gave the first. God, that's distracting.
"You'd make. Such. A pretty. Mommy." He whispers, kissing his way down your body until he reaches the bottom seam of your top. From there, he pulls it off, letting it fall to the floor before removing the rest of your clothes.
"You'd look so pretty with a little baby bump." His huge hand rests on your bare tummy, imaging how your body would change.
"I want it, Buck." You mean it too. It doesn't sound like such a bad idea when he's taking his clothes off.
"I know you want it." He groans, rubbing the tip of his dick against your soaked core. "Y-you're so wet."
He presses his hips forward, sliding inside you and you can't explain it but you swear it feels different this time.
"Don't even think about pulling out." You cup his face in your hands, keeping his eyes on you and you almost worry he's going to fuck himself senseless into you. "I want you to make me a mommy. You're going to give me every single drop of cum and when it starts to drip out of me, you're going to fuck it back in."
His head falls onto your shoulder, sobbing a pathetic moan against your already hot skin. The pace of his thrusts matches his need, his hips slamming into yours and when he finally gives in, he cums inside you with your legs clamped around his waist, making sure he couldn't pull out even if he wanted to.
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