Posted 5 days ago

According to the doctor, kidney infection and stones.  They’ve got me on the good stuff now, haha!  XD

Posted 5 days ago

Hey there, guys!
Sweet fucking shit on a stick, do I hurt. Also, I feel really trembly and jittery. I wouldn’t wish my problems on anyone I know, that’s for sure. I’m in the ER now, but I’m pretty sure this hospital has Wi-Fi. Hopefully I can give y’all some fluff or porn to look forward to.

Posted 1 week ago
Hulkeye smut- Bruce being a sudden dom. PLEASE AND THANK YOU.
thesuperboywonder asked

One moment, Clint was in his usual position - kneeling on the bed, straddling one of Bruce’s thighs, inhaling the soft, natural smell of his hair as he kissed at his neck…

…and the next, he was on his back, with Bruce between his legs and one small but strong palm splayed out over his belly.  Bruce adjusted his glasses with his other hand, something Clint knew he only did when he was feeling unsure.  As Clint opened his mouth to speak, Bruce removed them entirely, setting them on the bedside table.

"Whoa," Clint breathed.  "Something you want to tell me, Bruce?"

Bruce bit his own lower lip, worrying it softly before saying with surety, “Yeah, you get to lie on your back tonight.”

Clint had to bite back a grin.  Bruce was trying to exude that same effortless confidence that he found so attractive in men - a quality Clint had gleaned his appreciation for from the contents of a certain surreptitiously hidden folder on Bruce’s laptop - but he lacked the natural talent.  He wanted this, yes, but he had no idea how to take it.  And besides, he was being permissive; if Clint said ‘no’ he’d back off in a heartbeat.

Fortunately, Clint did want it, and he was more than happy to let Bruce know his best efforts were perfectly fine by him.  ”This is sudden,” he hummed, smiling.  ”You’ve never shown any desire to top before; I like this.  New, sexy…it’s good.”

Bruce grinned, pleased, and pressed a kiss to Clint’s chest.  ”Yeah?  It gets better.”

Clint kissed the top of his head, eyes sparking with desire.  ”I know.”

Bruce gained confidence quickly, each motion had him moving with just a bit more knowledge, a bit more speed.  Clint all but melted when Bruce slid his fingers inside of him, slick with lube, and rocked them back and forth.  His cock twitched every time Bruce skimmed his prostate, and his knees slowly drew further apart as if pulled by an invisible force.

Bruce was attentive enough for an army, so being the sole recipient of his attention was intense on a level Clint never thought he’d experience in bed.  Bruce was only just slicking his own arousal up when Clint puled out a soft, “Oh, god…Bruce, baby, I don’t think I’m gonna last very long.”

Bruce stopped drizzling KY over himself for a moment, giving Clint a look that somehow rode between smugness and sheepishness.  ”I guess I went a little overboard with the foreplay?”

"It was nice," Clint said in a breathy tone.  "Believe me, I’m good.  I was more worried about you."

"I think I’ll manage."  Bruce finished up and repositioned himself, sliding between Clint’s thighs and rubbing the tip of his erection against him.  "Mnh - I could always get off like this.  No penetration, just…just this.  I bet there’s a name for that.”

"Probably - oh.  Bruce.  C’mon, I want you inside me.”  Clint locked his ankles around Bruce’s hips, squirming enticingly.  ”You can keep going after I come.”

"You’ll get overstimulated."

"Maybe.  So we can figure something else out if I do."  Clint tilted his head back and slightly sideways, grinning provocatively.  "Come on, doctor."

Bruce rolled his eyes at being called ‘doctor’, but slid in all the same.  Clint tightened reflexively around him, letting out a breathy whine of pleasure; it took the two of them a moment to adjust to the unusual sensations.

"Holy shit," Clint said, quiet and rough.  "Holy shit, Bruce, baby, move."

Bruce nodded, grinding forward slowly - too slowly for Clint, who tightened his legs around Bruce and wriggled his hips.  Bruce moaned, falling forward the rest of the way and making a sordid noise when his hips met snug against Clint’s bottom.  He leaned in hard, gripping Clint’s leg in one hand and his cock in the other.

"Oh fuck, Bruce, n - !!"  Clint didn’t last another five minutes; he came gripping Bruce’s shoulders hard, nails leaving indents in his skin, come smearing against his chest and stomach as Bruce moved.  Bruce hesitated for only a moment before he went back to his rhythmic pumping, biting at Clint’s neck and letting a needy, determined noise escape with each thrust.

Clint squirmed against him, letting himself be used and feeling deliciously sordid for it.  Bruce was relentless in his desire, slowing only to shift his position.  He touched against things that made Clint see stars; his lips and tongue traveled anywhere they could reach.  His grip tightened as he neared his climax.  For a moment, Clint thought that Bruce was going to bruise him…and then he lost his grip, shuddering and moaning loudly as he came.  Clint could feel the throb of his arousal and the heat of Bruce’s release inside of him, and he groaned in half-protest, half-desire.  ”Bruce…Bruce,” he keened quietly, waiting for Bruce to come down from his orgasm high.

"Yeah," Bruce breathed, letting his head fall forward as he sank down to rest against Clint.  "Yeah, Clint.  What is it?"

"I’m kinda tender," he complained, giving Bruce a nudge.

"Oh!  Sorry."  He rolled off to the side, flopping down beside Clint and chuckling.  "I didn’t hurt you, did I?"

"No, I’m good."  Clint caught his breath, then craned his neck and chuckled back at him.  "But I think I’ll be scrubbing myself down in the shower."

"Pft.  Spoilsport."  Bruce said even as he pecked him on the cheek.  "Come on then.  I hope you’ll at least let me do your back."

((Wanna prompt me? Click here to find out how!))

Posted 1 week ago


I just found out that someone I considered a good friend supports ‘traditional marriage’, calling it ‘true liberty’.   I called her out on it as nicely as I could, but now I have a gross sick feeling in my stomach and my hands are all shaky.  So fucking pissed right now.

In other news, I’m sorry for my inactivity, guys.  :/  My health is still kicking me around, and that can make it hard as hell to get inspired.

Posted 2 weeks ago
Could you write something about Loki's magic dithering for some reason and is forced into his Joutnheim form or he's in Midgard and it's snowing and he ends up in his Joutnheim form accidentally and Clint sees but he tries to hide and Clint acts as if nothing is amiss and is secretly thinking how amazing and beautiful Loki is?
Anonymous asked

Clint hadn’t expected to find a non-human on his way back from his latest mission.  Not a non-human in the mutant sense - those, he was pretty much used to by now - but in a very evident ‘no way am I from earth’ sense.  One minute, he’d been making the fifteen-mile trek back to his rendezvous point…

…and the next his eyes were fixed on a tall, blue-skinned figure inscribed with what appeared to be long lines and sharp angles.

"Who’s that?" he demanded, hand flying to his bow by sheer instinct.

No answer was offered.  Whoever they were, they dodged away quickly, concealing themselves behind a small group of dormant yews coated in thick flakes of white.  Clint could still see thick, shiny onyx hair catching the wind and betraying their hiding place, and he eased his hand away from his bow.  ”Hello?”

"Go away, Barton."

Well, that was definitely Loki’s voice.

Clint’s brow knitted with confusion and he took a few steps closer.  ”Loki?  I thought you were imprisoned in Asgard somewhere - “

"I escaped.  Are you hard of hearing, mortal fool?!  Leave!"

"Make me."  Clint walked closer with less trepidation now.  "If you escaped, then you’re not allowed to be here.  Which means you can’t make a scene, or big brother will come for you.  You’re all bark and no bite right now, aren’t you?"

Loki was silent for a while before mumbling, “You always were too clever by half.  I should have kept you for myself; you’d have made ever such a lovely companion.”

"Come on out, Loki."

"I will not," Loki spat from behind his rather desperate hiding spot.

Clint sighed and closed the last few spaces between them…and what he saw very nearly took his breath away.  Loki had shed his ostentatious golden armor - or, more likely, it was removed forcibly - and was in simple, thin clothing.  The cold didn’t seem to bother him, and Clint suspected that was because whatever Loki truly was was designed for the cold.

Loki was indeed blue now, with eyes like polished fire opals.  Gorgeous patterns, the meanings of which were lost on Clint but the beauty of which was not, ran over his skin in thin, raised lines of cobalt.  Perhaps most astonishing was the set of four small horns - more raised areas, really - he now possessed.  Two larger ones featured on either side of his forehead, and two small enough to be more like thorns at the ends of his eyebrows.  He was astonishingly different, shocking to look at…

…and beautiful.

So beautiful, Clint thought to himself even as he trained his face into its usual stoic mask.  And yet Loki seemed unnerved by himself, very much unlike the proud and roaring god Clint knew.  Except for his anger, he looked almost ready to bolt, like a frightened deer.

"Hiding wouldn’t stop me from shooting you if I wanted to shoot you," Clint huffed.  "You’ve been in my brain.  You know what my job is and you know I’m damn good at it."

Loki looked at Clint warily.  ”…you do not mock me?”

"What’s to mock?  I don’t make a habit of embarrassing people once I’ve defeated them.  Not unless they’ve really earned it.  And sure, you were an asshole, but I’m guessing from your general lack of attempts at world domination and the enslavement of the human race, something got through to you.”

Loki was still very obviously mistrustful, but he turned to face Clint fully.  ”I am unusual in appearance, I am sure.  I did not see blue humans running about during my last stay here.”

"Try Las Vegas," Clint responded.  "Look, you can’t stay here.  This is hostile territory, and the guys who own it won’t take kindly to you being here no matter what color you are."

"Are you suggesting I come with you, Barton?"

Clint shook his head emphatically.  ”No!  Hell no, my boss would shit an entire litter of kittens.”

"Ah, yes.  Director Fury.  I am guessing the passing of kittens as waste is a ridiculous euphamism meant to indicate rage."

"You guessed right."  Clint looked around and wrinkled his nose briefly.  "Look, if you want help getting out of here, follow me and stay outside the cabin I go into.  I’ll meet up with my coworker, then we’ll work on finding you someplace where you can do minimal damage."

Loki smirked.  ”And here I was thinking you’d learned something while you were under my control.  The damage I do is never minimal, Barton.”

"Don’t make me change my mind," Clint warned.  He started southward, keeping a sharp eye out behind them.  "Jeez.  What I wouldn’t do for a nice snowstorm right now.  I could use the cover."

"You humans and your bizarre relationship with the weather.  I seem to recall you complaining about the snow the last time I was in your head."

"You mean the only time you were in my head.  Though I guess you’re right in that it will be the last.”

Loki snorted derisively…

…but three minutes later, he and Clint were hidden completely from their trackers by a rather aggressive line of snow which seemed to have come out of nowhere.

((Wanna prompt me? Click here to find out how!))

Posted 3 weeks ago
Tony Stark/JARVIS, sub!Tony and dom!JARVIS, whatever flavour of consent you'd care to play with. (And thanks so much!)
crowdog66 asked

Topped by technology.  People often complained about it, but usually, they were referring to assembly-line jobs being robbed from them by precision machines, or the latest and greatest smartphone stumping them and not their ten-year-old.

Tony, however, had a whole different meaning for it.

And a whole room dedicated to it.

JARVIS had once told him that this room was far more impressive than even the Iron Man suit.  Equal parts hologram, biosensory metal, and android technology, this room was devoted to a single purpose…although Tony was working on making something so that JARVIS could enjoy said purpose outside the room as well.

For now, though, this was the spot.  And speaking of which…

"Oh oh, that, that’s good - !!" Tony keened.  "Right there - !"

"Was that a compliment or an instruction?"  JARVIS withdrew his finger from inside Tony, watching as his creator squirmed.  Tony was bent over a desk - one of JARVIS’ chosen props for their current scene - with his hands tied firmly behind him.  So far, JARVIS hadn’t seen much need to punish him, but it seemed Tony was wearing thin on that.  Needy bastard.  "Because you don’t give the instructions here.  I do."

Tony licked his lips and nodded.  ”Yes, sir.”  So strange to hear that title from Tony’s lips at all, let alone have it directed at him.  ”I’m sorry, sir.”

"Are you?"  JARVIS ran a hand thoughtfully over Tony’s thighs, considering the soft smattering of hair there before sharply rapping that same hand over one side of Tony’s bottom.  Tony yelped, back curving and cock jumping, and JARVIS let out a pleased snort.  "You know I have no patience for uppity things like you, Tony."

Tony nodded, and although JARVIS wasn’t quite sure, he seemed to be wriggling ever-so-slightly, deliberately provocatively.  He hummed as if in thought before smacking Tony’s other buttock.

"Ow!" Tony yelped, though the clear fluid stringing from the tip of his arousal said the pain was still good.  Just unexpected that time, JARVIS figured.  "What did I do to deserve that?"

"Perhaps you were inviting it," JARVIS answered.  "Perhaps I just felt like it."  He stroked one hand over the red blushes he’d left behind, then said, "Perhaps I feel like carrying on.  What are you going to do about it?"  Tony’s whimper sounded vaguely like ‘oh god’, and JARVIS knew Tony liked the idea.  He’d have to tease him for a while before he resumed spanking him, in that case.  "Then again.  If you’re really sorry, perhaps no more punishment is in order.  Maybe I should just leave you for a while, to think about what you’ve done.”

Tony’s voice caught, and he stopped himself before he could protest.  There was no telling what JARVIS would come up with if Tony tried to boss him around again.

"See?  You’re learning already."  JARVIS grinned, rubbing both hands over Tony now, using his thumbs to part the cleft of his bottom so he could admire the more tender areas.  Tony was still slick and wet with lubricant, his testicles full and drawn close to his body.  "You look like you’re going to come.  You’d best not.  I have plans for you."

"Yes, sir."

"Lots of plans.  For instance, right now, I plan to finger you again."

Tony made a muffled noise of pleasure, body slackening as he relaxed to let JARVIS push one digit inside of him.  JARVIS marveled at his ability to do that, and to feel how warm and tight Tony was.  He worked his finger around, crooking it against his prostate every now and again, listening closely in case Tony needed to stop.

Tony’s noises didn’t grow hesitant - only more energetic and needy, even a bit frustrated as he leaned hard against the desk in an effort not to come.  When JARVIS shook his finger just right, though, all Tony’s efforts couldn’t have stopped him; he came with a breathless, dizzying cry and let his forehead fall to the desk.

JARVIS withdrew his finger, letting Tony catch his breath before saying, “Now what did I just get through telling you?”

Tony took a few more deep breaths, then hummed, “Sorry, sir.”

"You don’t sound it."  JARVIS grasped Tony’s softening cock in one hand and braced the other against the small of Tony’s back - giving him an opportunity to slow or end this.  Tony’s breath caught with obvious excitement, though, and he offered a soft ‘green’ before resuming his role.  JARVIS grinned, comforted in the knowledge he was still in the clear, and cracked his knuckles purely for effect.


"I do believe you’ve earned that spanking now."

((Wanna prompt me? Click here to find out how!))

Posted 1 month ago


Keziah Ravenshade, Witch of the Outlands, has sworn never to love again, but her predictable life is upended when she takes a dying stranger into her home.

Esdelot, the Golden Prince, can outfight or befriend anyone- except for the usurpers who tried to kill her with a poisoned blade. Finding the young royal delirious and on the verge of death, Keziah saves her life. But while Esdelot regains her health, betrayal comes from an unlikely source: her brother has taken the throne in her absence and declared himself king.  As the two women travel to the capital city to stop a false ruler’s coronation, they form a friendship that seems poised to turn into something more. But Esdelot has promised herself in marriage to a woman she barely knows… and Keziah knows she’s fallen too deeply for a woman whose betrothed waits for her along with her throne. When an enemy from Keziah’s past resurfaces, a mere conflict of politics becomes something that threatens to upend the gods themselves. Will love win out?

Buy My Lady King here:

What people are saying about Kayla Bashe’s writing:

Bluebell Hall is an awesome book. Seriously, it has EVERYTHING I LIKE. Magic. Boarding school story. Representation of marginalized groups. I love the writing style, and it has just the right amount of drama and calm moments.”

“At the very opening of [Bluebell Hall,] you are immediately introduced to a myriad of characters that you feel like you know almost instantly, along with a setting that comes alive before the first chapter is over.”

“Bashe continues to show off her taste for the macabre mixed with wit and dashing heroics, a combination that made Graveyard Sparrow a delightful read.

Trigger warnings: mentions of emotional abuse, blood, fire. This book also contains a rad bisexual protagonist, trans and nonbinary characters, an ENTIRE CAST of QPOC, and a road trip.


Posted 1 month ago
Is a non-ship prompt okay? I was thinking Bruce gets de-aged (about 6-10 years old) and only has memories relative to his age. Loki finds Bruce and also finds he has a soft spot for the scared little boy.
Anonymous asked

There was something familiar about the boy.

Yes, physically - his appearance didn’t bring anyone immediately to mind, but Loki was sure they’d met before - but there was more to him than just a vague sense of distant recollection.  His emotions, those were what made Loki stop to look at him.  He wore them every bit as obviously as he did his clothing, and they were far from positive.

"Boy," he said softly.  Loki was not in the habit of frightening children.  "Why aren’t you at home?"

The boy looked up at him and sniffled scrubbing the sleeve over the back of one of his hands across his nose.  ”I don’t know where it is,” he responded sadly.  He then took a longer look at Loki, and though his sniffling did not subside entirely, it quieted somewhat.  ”You dress different.”

'Different'.  What a polite child.  ”I suppose I do.  Do you live in this city, at least?”  Loki wasn't completely sure why he was asking.  Pity, perhaps.  Memories of being lost in Asgard were in no short supply, and he knew that the thought of never finding one's way home had a way of becoming an unshakable truth in a child's mind.

"No.  The buildings are wrong."

"Hm.  What is your name, boy?"

The boy looked at him warily, but answered, “Bruce.  I’m Bruce Banner.”

Bruce Banner?  Years of practice kept the shock off of Loki’s face, but it was a close thing.  It was so obvious now; the features were all there.  Young, perhaps; the marks of maturity clearly had several years to wait yet.  And if he didn’t remember Loki, clearly his memories had been drawn back along with his body.  But who had done this?  Loki had been busy with other things.

"Mister?  What’s your name?"

Loki flicked his gaze down to Bruce, contemplating his options.  He could kill him.  Here and now.  Never worry about coming up against that damnable green monster ever again.  And yet…

…well, he told himself it just wasn’t sporting, but Loki knew that there was a deeper truth than that.

"Loki," he answered.  "Tell me, Bruce - do you want to go home?"

There was a long moment of hesitation, but eventually, Bruce nodded.

"It took you a moment to answer.  I’d imagine you don’t much want to discuss why you don’t want to go back…but will you tell me what makes you go back despite your distaste?"

Bruce was quiet for a while again, then he finally answered.  ”My mom.”

Again, Loki’s face betrayed nothing.  He simply stood, quiet and contemplative for a while, before holding out his hand.  ”Come with me.”

Bruce frowned.  ”My mom says I shouldn’t go with strangers.”

"Wise advice for one so young, I would think.  But I cannot leave you on your own.  People with intentions far less noble than mine may decide that they don’t care whether or not you decline their invitations."

Clearly the larger words had gone over Bruce’s head, but he seemed to get the gist of it.  ”So where do you want to take me?  I told you home isn’t here.”

Loki looked up at the tower on which he had once waged a ruthless war against humanity.  Stark’s name had been reduced to a single ‘A’, and funnily enough, he’d kept it that way.  Now it served as the headquarters for his idiot brother’s team of even greater idiots.  Surely they would know what to do with Bruce.

Bruce, the green monster.  Bruce, who couldn’t go with strangers.  Bruce, whose greatest comfort in life was his mother.

Loki could relate to one of those, though he was loathe to admit it even to himself.

"I will take you to the Avengers.  They’re…heroes of a sort."

"I didn’t say I’d go with you."

Loki sighed.  ”Very well.  You’re going to see something very strange now, and I’ll expect you not to make a great fuss about it.  Understood?”


Close enough.  Loki focused a fraction of his energy, sending it away from him, and it split into a shimmering silhouette, then into a proper copy of himself.  Bruce’s mouth fell open and his eyes bugged with astonishment, but he didn’t make a sound.  Loki rolled his eyes and routed his clone to the tower.  At least if one of them decided to throw a punch, they wouldn’t actually hit him.

"How did you do that?" Bruce asked in awe.

Loki wanted to explain the science, the art of it to him.  Not to the adult, but to the curious little boy.  Unfortunately, the concepts were far beyond him…and anyway, he might carry that knowledge into his regained adulthood as well, and Loki would rather not arm Midgardians with such knowledge.  So he grinned down at Bruce, sat beneath a tree, and responded with a chuckle, “Magic.”

((Wanna prompt me? Click here to find out how!))

Posted 1 month ago
Lackadaisy - Viktor x Mordecai: In the back of that car of theirs. Bonus points for noisy Mordecai (HELP I'M SO HAPPY YOU SHIP THESE TWO AND ACCEPT PROMPTS FOR THEM I'M DROWNING)
Anonymous asked

((Do these two have a ship name?  Viktocai?  …Mordor?  idk.  Also, yes, cars had suspension systems in the 20s.  They were fairly new to the world and didn’t work very well.))

Mordecai gasped, toes curling inside his immaculately shined shoes.  Well, previously immaculate; they had mud and a few specks of blood on them now, but it was nothing he couldn’t fix when they got back.

If they got back.  Viktor didn’t seem much inclined to return to his spot behind the driver’s seat where he belonged.

"You - you oaf, you over-muscled, brutish - “

"Quiet," Viktor growled, and for a moment, Mordecai fancied that he could feel that thick accent flowing into his ears, warming him up from the inside.  Or maybe that was the friction of Viktor’s hastily lubed cock.  He whined loudly, slowly letting the noise build as Viktor moved, and this time Viktor slammed a rough, calloused hand over his mouth.  ”Quiet.”

Mordecai bit at his hand, which caused Viktor to snarl and tangle his hand in Mordecai’s hair, yanking back.  Mordecai yowled when Viktor bit back, sucking at the junction of his neck and shoulder.  He bucked his hips, linking his ankles at the small of Viktor’s back and protesting, “Don’t - don’t you dare…dare bruise me, you big - “

"Always noise," Viktor grumbled against his skin, pulling back and admiring his handiwork - a bright, angry mark which Mordecai would no doubt whip himself into a frenzy over later.  He thrust forward hard, and the groan of the car’s arguably useless suspension could barely be heard over Mordecai’s uninhibited groans of pleasure.  On the one hand, it was interesting to see him uninhibited.  His complaints sure got annoying, though.  "At least make good noise.”

One hand dropped down to work Mordecai’s arousal.  Mordecai threw his head back, grasping at the seat.  His glasses hung crooked now, and his wails tapered into borderline-overstimulated whimpers.

Viktor liked those, and he rewarded Mordecai with slower, more precise thrusts - aimed directly at places Viktor had hit with great success before.  Places that made Mordecai see stars, not that he’d ever admit it.  Mordecai’s eyes flew open and he started a frantic litany of Viktor’s name, interspersed with pleas to a god Viktor was fairly sure neither of them believed in.  He thumbed over the tip of Mordecai’s cock now, smearing precome and rubbing over each ridge and dip.

Mordecai’s steady canting lost its rhythm and his glasses fell to the floor.  ”Viktor - Viktor, keep going, I’m…I’m so - ”  His words were lost in a stuttering moan as he came, muscles fluttering around Viktor until he too lost himself to orgasm.  He swore in Slovakian, grasping onto Mordecai’s hips hard enough that those would probably have bruises as well…though nothing so obvious as the one on his neck.

Unfortunately, Viktor was not allowed to enjoy the glow of his climax, nor the contentment of holding Mordecai close - a weakness of his.  Almost as soon as he’d come, Mordecai made a face and goosebumps rippled up his body.  ”Clean me up, clean me up,” he muttered with dark, obsessive desperation.  ”Couldn’t this be less…messy?

"You kill a man in this car," Viktor noted, already reaching for the small square of cloth he kept back there for exactly this reason.  "Many men.  And no complaining."

"Blood is different," he argued, waiting impatiently as Viktor swabbed the semen off of him.  "Especially when it isn’t - ow!  A little care in that area, if you will!"

Viktor snorted and shrugged.  ”You clean, then.”

Mordecai raised an eyebrow at him, reaching down to the car’s floor for his glasses.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pristinely white handkerchief, swabbing the glass with practiced ease.  ”Why?  You made the mess.  You clean it up.  And hurry, Atlas will be waiting.”

Viktor didn’t bother to comment further.  He’d learned last month that Mordecai’s neuroses could not be fought…even after a nice roll in the hay.  His best form of revenge was just to clean him as roughly as possible without actually hurting him.

After all, he was a grown man.  He didn’t need babying, even if he secretly wanted it.

((Wanna prompt me? Click here to find out how!))

Posted 1 month ago
Anonymous asked

Yay, thank you!!  :D