Posted 1 week ago

Commissions Signal Boost

talesfrommidgard:

Just got the damage for my latest trip to the hospital, and this time, they decided to punch me in the face with a $2200 bill.  Oddly enough, I don’t have that lying around and I can’t just pull it out of my butt, so guess what, y’all?  I’m selling my talents!

Those of you who follow me on chubbychoco may be familiar with my mermaid designs.  For those who aren’t, here’s some examples of what I do.

I’m opening commissions for these - name me any sea creature you like, and I will make it happen for $35.  In addition to this, I’m doing plastic canvas work as always (see examples beneath the RM), and I’d like to direct your attention to my Etsy shop, Choco Makes It.

I’ll be posting my mer commissions there, or, if you’d prefer, you can purchase them through PayPal or cash (if doing the latter, keep in mind I can only accept USD, and it will take me a bit longer to get started on your order because snail mail is slow).

Even if you’re not going to buy something, I’d like to ask that you signal boost this.  I don’t know where I’m going to come up with this kind of money, and even a magnet would help.  Thank you so much, guys; I love you all!!

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Posted 1 week ago
Spirk Coffee shop AU. Kirk is a flirty barista who flirts and Spock is his absolute favorite customer to do so with. Spock is equal parts annoyed and intreaged by him. Bonus points if you work in Chekov as the adorable busboy. ((Spock can be Vulcan or human. Ur choice.))
Anonymous asked

Annoyance.  Fascination.  Exasperation.  Spock knew that the emotions he was experiencing were a reflection of his human half, an echo of his lineage.  But that didn’t make James Kirk any less than what he was, and what he was was a man who knew how to get under his skin.

"You sure you don’t want me to slip some hot chocolate in here?" the barista asked, winking at Spock.  "Just a bit.  To help loosen you up."

"Thank you, no," Spock replied with his usual neutral expression.  "I’m on my way to work."

"Ditch," Jim responded as if it were painfully obvious.  "You come here every day, and you always make sure I’m your barista.  I refuse to believe that it’s coincidental, which means you’re looking for something."  His grin widened and he winked.  "Or someone."

Spock didn’t grace that with an emotional response.  ”That is a ridiculous conclusion.  Logic doesn’t - “

"We humans aren’t the most logical creatures, you may have noticed."

Spock let out a small huff of air.  ”My usual, please, Mister Kirk.”

Jim rolled his eyes and chuckled.  ”Sure, I’ll have Chekov bring it over as soon as it’s ready.”

Spock nodded and sat, waiting for his coffee and pastry and watching the people milling in and out.  And also Jim at work.  He tried to tell himself he was mostly people-watching, but in truth, he knew better than to lie to himself like that.  Jim was intriguing.  Something abut his confidence, his snarky surety, was strangely fascinating…even for a steadfast Vulcan with a respectable nine-to-five.  He moved with a casual sort of effectiveness, working the machines and pouring everything as though it were second nature.  Maybe it was; Spock didn’t know how long he’d had the job.

It wasn’t long before Chekov bustled over, bearing a to-go cup and bag, beaming like a curly-haired ray of Russian sunshine.  He handed both articles over, looking almost sheepish as he glanced at the sides of each item that were facing him.  ”Have a good morning, Mister Spock,” he said, his words thick with his homeland’s influence.  Spock always liked that about Chekov; carrying the traces of one’s roots was nothing to be ashamed of.  ”And, uh, feel free to ignore Mister Kirk’s…handiwork.”

"I beg your pardon?" Spock asked as he took them, but Chekov was already off to another customer, leaning over the table and laughing brightly as he delivered the man’s breakfast.

Spock turned the cup in his hand and saw what Chekov was referring to - there, in the bold black pen usually used to mark off the details of the coffee, was Jim’s contact info and a hastily scrawled ‘call me!’.  Spock looked on the back of the pastry bag to find a list of date activities with the note ‘if interested in a date, please circle stuff you’d be interested in and return bag when convenient’.  Spock raised an eyebrow.  He was no stranger to romance, but flirty baristas weren’t exactly his field of expertise.

Still…

Spock made his way over to the counter, waited in line, then gave Jim the slightest quirk of an eyebrow when he came up to the softly glowing countertop.  That sliver of emotion was enough to make Jim grin at him.  ”Coffee too hot?” he asked innocently.

"None of these activities would interest me," Spock said plainly, handing back the bag after extracting his gespar scone.  "I would, however, find great satisfaction in a trip to a museum of science or history."

Jim’s eyes lit up.  ”I like science.”

"Good.  Because I’m keeping the coffee cup."


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

Posted 1 week ago

A Short Halloween PSA

the-brain-fuckler:

tearlessrain:

Hey the thing I reblogged earlier reminded me to mention this:

I can promise all my followers that I do not post or reblog jump scares, ever, because A) I don’t like them and they suck, and B) I know at least a few of my followers have anxiety in one form or another and I’m not going to be that jerk.

So yes. There will be no jump scares from this blog, just wanted to ease your minds preemptively.

Jump scares are a cheap, lazy and detestable form of “horror” anyway.

And yeah, fuck anxiety inducing shit like that.

Posted 1 week ago

Commissions Signal Boost

Just got the damage for my latest trip to the hospital, and this time, they decided to punch me in the face with a $2200 bill.  Oddly enough, I don’t have that lying around and I can’t just pull it out of my butt, so guess what, y’all?  I’m selling my talents!

Those of you who follow me on chubbychoco may be familiar with my mermaid designs.  For those who aren’t, here’s some examples of what I do.

I’m opening commissions for these - name me any sea creature you like, and I will make it happen for $35.  In addition to this, I’m doing plastic canvas work as always (see examples beneath the RM), and I’d like to direct your attention to my Etsy shop, Choco Makes It.

I’ll be posting my mer commissions there, or, if you’d prefer, you can purchase them through PayPal or cash (if doing the latter, keep in mind I can only accept USD, and it will take me a bit longer to get started on your order because snail mail is slow).

Even if you’re not going to buy something, I’d like to ask that you signal boost this.  I don’t know where I’m going to come up with this kind of money, and even a magnet would help.  Thank you so much, guys; I love you all!!

Read More

Posted 2 weeks ago

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

Posted 2 weeks 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 3 weeks 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 3 weeks ago

Ugh.

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 1 month 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 1 month 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.

"Sir..?"

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


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