#first time writing for this fandom!

[writeouswriter]

My followers: And is this “writing” you’ve been “working on” in the room with us right now?

[thevioletcaptain]

i genuinely don't care how good a piece of ai generated art or writing looks on the surface. i don't care if it emulates brush strokes and metaphor in a way indistinguishable from those created by a person.

it is not the product of thoughtful creation. it offers no insights into the creator's life or viewpoint. it has no connection to a moment in time or a place or an attitude. it has no perspective. it has no value.

it's empty, it's hollow, and it exists only to generate clicks (and by extension, ad revenue.)

it's just another revolting symptom of the disease that is late stage capitalism, and it fucking sucks.

[plistommy]

Steve takes Eddie’s virginity by riding the older boy after a long session of smoking and drinking inside the metalheads cramped van.

He’d praise Eddie on how good he’s making him feel, how big his dick is and how he’s so pretty under him that it makes Eddie moan loudly, strong hands roaming and squeezing the fat of Steve’s ass as he begs to fuck Steve harder.

”I need to fuck you, Steve- please, sweetheart-”

Steve would kiss him, sloppy and wet as he whines into Eddie’s mouth when the dick inside him hits just right.

When he pulls back, breathless, he picks up the pace and finally lets Eddie buck up to meet his thrusts.

Eddie would just look up at Steve, brown eyes wide and realize he’s so in love with the gorgeous boy on top of him and he never wants to let go. Never.

[jomeimei421]

Felt a bit nostalgic watching RT shut down…Here are the og faves again for old times sake 💙

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Afterlife, But It's A Bar

[discontinued, feel free to add on]

It was weird. Not wrong, alarming or dangerous type of weird. Not good or comforting either.

Just plain weird.

It all started a few days ago, on Wednesday, to be exact. On a rare occasion, Jason was patrolling outside of his territory ("cover for me, I have a date" my ass, Replacement), and he spotted something out of place. A neon green, almost toxic colored sign that read "Afterlife".

Honestly, who names a place like that? But judging by the placement and design, it was a bar, and Jason could almost appreciate the irony. Maybe it had a slogan along the lines of "our drinks will send you beyond the lines of life and death" or something. But at the same time, it could be interpreted as "alcohol can and will be the death of you," which, technically, is not the best PR campaign for a bar.

Jason decided to visit the place anyway. He was curious about the implied death joke, sue him.

Of course, he didn't visit immediately. He was still on patrol, and he just heard the sound of gunshots to the west. Not to say that the place was quiet.

(Oddly quiet for a bar in Gotham, now that he thinks about it)

Anyway, the next day, he went there not as Red Hood but as Jason Todd, an ordinary civilian who decided to grab a beer in the evening. Only to not find the place.

He couldn't have just miss it - he remembered the street, he knew the building, he was absolutely fucking sure where the "Afterlife" should have been. He searched the whole block nonetheless, and then proceeded to check the whole area, but to no avail.

Damn, it seems like he can't get to the afterlife both literally and- the other literally. Yeah, he might be having too much fun with the oddly chosen name for the nonexistent bar.

It didn't exist on the maps and internet either. At this point, Jason was contemplating the idea of it being a hallucination or a dream. He even checked the recording on his helmet from Wednesday night, but the whole time he was in the area, the video was filled with interference and static.

Weird. Slightly suspicious, but Red Robin, who's been patrolling the same area for weeks before him, never reported any interferences, so it probably had something to do with his helmet and not the area in general.

On Thursday night, he purposefully went there right after patrol. And the nonexistent bar suddenly existed again! The same neon green sign, the same quiet street around it.

Seriously, what is this mysterious fuckery?

Now, if he was a Bat, he would have reported this to others and investigated, lurked around in shadows, and approached with caution. If he was a Robin, he would have still reported and then straight up marched in there and saw how it goes.

Alas, he was Red Hood, so he decided to watch for the bar guests and see just who the hell goes in and out of the place.

And there was the next weird thing.

No one was going in or out. Jason sat there for a whole hour, and not even one person entered or left the building. Despite the muffled sounds of music, voices and laughter coming from the place.

The final kicker was the fact that after some careful questioning and dropping hints, Jason found out that no one except him ever saw the "Afterlife"'s sign. No one's even heard of it, both the Batclan and the Gothamites.

The fuck?

So he did the next logical thing. He brought the smartest member of the Bats with him. Tim owed him anyway. Might as well use it now instead of later.

Friday night proved two things: one, Tim was still his favorite to work with out of all the bats and birds, not questioning anything as to why Jason is asking him to check out a bar, and two, Jason just might be going insane.

Tim couldn't see the "Afterlife" even when Jason pointed at the sign from not further than ten feet. The irony of the stipid name was not even amusing anymore.

Tim didn't ask any questions after this experiment, and Jason didn't want to admit that he is losing the grip of reality, so they ended up simply parting their ways after. Can the Pits cause brain damage? More damage than there was in the first place, that is.

Now that he thinks about it, the color of the sign is really similar to the Lazarus waters. He should have noticed it sooner, but in his defense, who would look at the bubbling pool of toxic waters and think, "Oh, that would make a dope neon sign"? Apparently, the owner of the "Afterlife".

The color might be just a coincidence.

...no, in the world he lives in, coincidences like this just don't happen. Besides, Jason doesn't believe in shit like fate or destiny.

So, here he is, on Saturday night, standing in front of the door to the Afterlife. It would have been funny if it wasn't so weird. What's even more weird is that the closer he gets to the door, the less nervous he feels, like the place is radiating some calming aura. Wait, no, scratch that, Jason is so not calling it a calming aura for God's sake. That sounds just like those homemade witches with their crystals, tarot readings, and whatnot.

He's going to call it... tranquilizer vibes. Yeah, that's better.

He takes a deep breath, getting ready to see whatever it is on the other side, pushes the door open, and walks into the bar.

...

Whatever he's been expecting to see, it's not this.

[casualhedonists]

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism (lmk if i forgot anything!) murder mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, oral sex, thigh riding, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here

chapter: 1/? (chapter 2 here)

MASTERLIST

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

A/N: this is what happens when i let my brain loose to do whatever tf it wants (title is from attention by doja cat as is the general theme)

Show you how to touch it Hold it like it's precious It don't need your lovin' It just needs attention

You were getting tired of this charade.

Snow was courting you, or so it would seem. In truth, it was all for show. He was seen with you on his arm at public events, just enough to make it look like you were together. Marriage was probably further down the line, but Snow was in no rush for that to happen. For now, he was pleased with the positive attention he received for appearing like a reliable, loving, doting partner.

“There’s a science behind it,” Cordelia, Snow’s preferred public relations manager - and one of the Capitol’s best - had told you in a meeting between the three of you, discussing strategy, coordinating events, and how best to make the relationship seem authentic. “The more the public see you as grounded, committed, and warm, the more respect they hold for you. The more open they are to your ideas, and any changes you make as president.”

You’d concealed your smirk well enough for it to go unnoticed upon hearing that.

Snow was a lot of things, but he was never warm. The name itself decreed it. He was cold, calculating, sharp witted, manipulative. Power hungry.

You were fine with the arrangement at first. It suited your thirst for power; despite coming from one of the richest families in the capital, Snow’s power was of a different breed. You wanted in, and so when your social circles crossed over and the proposition was made, you’d risen to the occasion.

The reality was this: it was a good arrangement. Coriolanus was adored and admired by any outsider with a pair of eyes, and you got anything you wanted. You got to live in the manor house Coriolanus occupied, eating good food while being waited on hand and foot. You got to network with powerful people in the highest of society. Even if you wanted someone executed, it would be carried out in turn, without question. Name it, and it was yours. Snow was a generous host and ally to you.

It was everything you wanted.

Almost.

Somehow, despite it all, all the custom gowns shipped in from the expensive designers, the buffet spreads and the silk sheets, the way that people had begun to stare in respect as soon as you walked into a room, there was just one thing that itched at you, one thing you knew wasn’t part of the plan.

It was Snow.

Somewhere, between the light kisses in front of expectant eyes, the gentle hand on yours at dinner, that was hurriedly removed once you were behind closed doors again, you’d grown a gnawing, incessant want towards the man that had given you almost everything you could ever hope for.

Eight months, this had been going on. Eight months since Snow suggested this business proposal. Sex was never a part of the deal. And of course, you couldn’t sleep with anyone you pleased; that would be catastrophic for both of your reputations. And so it had been eight months since anybody had touched you other than yourself, biting your pillow so nobody could hear Snow’s name on your lips as you gripped the sheets. Even if you wanted to sleep with other people, you couldn’t. Truth is though, you’d developed rather expensive taste. A taste for only him. Even if you had the choice, nobody else would do.

You wondered if he ever thought of you while he touched himself. That thought slipped into your head every so often, when your hand was between your thighs. Then it became a more frequent occurrence. Then it became a nightly one, and by then, you were pretty sure you’d started going crazy.

You weren’t a romantic - this arrangement would never have worked if you were. You were like him; power hungry, relentless, impatient. And most of all, when you wanted something, you got it. And you wanted to seduce Coriolanus Snow.

So you’d started leaving breadcrumbs. Put an extra glint in your eyes when you glanced over at him, in public, first, and then in private more and more. You’d thrown out dozens of your more conservative dresses, keeping only the shortest ones that hugged your hips and dropped tantalisingly low on the neckline. Started wearing them more around the house, pretending to drop things just so you could bend down in front of him.

You estimated this act would last for a good week or two before Snow folded.

You were wrong.

If anything, it seemed to render Snow even more indifferent to you than he’d been before you started playing your little games. And each time he ignored you, glanced unimpressed at your outfit then looked away, or full-on walked right past you out the room, you started to simmer even more.

A normal girl in a normal situation would take a hint, cut her losses. But you were no normal girl, and this was no ordinary situation.

You had to be in the same boat, surely. Snow was still just a man, after all. A man with similarly limited options, and you knew he must’ve at least found you a little attractive, else he wouldn’t have chosen you to parade around on his arm in public, in pretty dresses and expensive jewellery.

Snow’s indifference only fuelled your fire. Sure, an ordinary girl would just give up. But eight months of this torture and you were at your breaking point. Besides, it was either him, or nobody. You weren’t giving up. Not in this lifetime.

So you got more obvious. Started taking breakfast in your nightgown each morning instead of getting dressed, sitting opposite Coriolanus with several feet of the mahogany table between you, biting into grapes from the fruit bowl and letting the juice trail down your chin, wiping it off then sucking your fingers clean, humming with your digits in your mouth, glancing at him with full-blown bedroom eyes when he’d look over at you from behind his paper.

It was no use. Nearly a month had passed and he’d barely even looked at you for more than a second at a time. Your conversations were short, lacklustre and strictly business related. You’d even tried playing on his heartstrings, asking about his day and work and his family. You were lucky if you got more than blunt, one-worded answers every time.

You’d exhausted yourself with all these failed attempts, until one Thursday night you heard footsteps walking past your bedroom door. This wasn’t abnormal - Snow kept extensive household staff - except for the sound of these were different. You recognised the faint clicking of heels against the hardwood, a sound you heard all the time at galas and balls, but never in these halls, when an event was nowhere on the radar. And this was one such night.

Your curiosity led you off your bed and to the door, gently opening it to glance outside. Whoever it was had turned the corner, the clicking fading down the hallway. You carefully closed the door behind you and began to follow the sound. A chill ran up the backs of your legs as you walked; it was getting slightly colder as winter closed in, and your bedroom attire wasn’t exactly fit for the weather, given that you picked out the laciest, most impractical slips to sleep in, ready for your performance the next morning at breakfast.

You paced down the corridor, winding past the door to each room, a study, a small library (the larger one was downstairs), Snow’s office, and then finally, at the end, the door to Snow’s bedroom.

Oh.

This room was always enigmatic to you, as you’d never been inside. Your obsession with Snow had led you to wonder, day in and day out, what lay behind that door. The color of his bedsheets, what sat on his dresser, the contents of his closet, what aftershave he wore that had caused you to develop a practically pavlovian reaction anytime he got close to you.

You paused, a few feet away from the door, fearing Snow’s response if you crossed that line, if he were to walk out and find you hovering between his office and his room, clearly attempting to eavesdrop.

You heard shifting, then voices inside as you focused all your attention onto listening, trying hard to pick up on the conversation. You took another tentative step forward, practicing in your head what you would say if he stepped outside. I just wanted to ask what you wanted me to wear on Monday’s gala, I was thinking the white dress with the gold detailing. It wasn’t too late in the evening for that to be a viable excuse, if you could make it sound convincing enough.

But as you got closer you noticed something. There was a soft light spilling out from behind the door, which was in fact, just slightly ajar.

Snow usually kept the door locked at all times, you knew that from testing the handle - admittedly more than a few times - when he had been out of the house, and you were certain he wouldn’t be home for hours. This was something different. This felt dangerous, like walking a tightrope that was about to get cut, but the thrill of adrenaline pushed you forward.

You’d stopped hearing voices by then. You snuck ever closer, ears starting to ring as you found yourself drawn to the open door, taking silent steps towards it until there was no going back, and your body was practically flush to it. Holding your breath, you peeked through, pushing it ever so gently, praying that it wouldn’t creak. You had to crane your neck slightly to see any movement in the room, but it didn’t take long to see it, and when you did, you certainly didn’t feel cold anymore. Any curious whims on the color of his furniture and walls were long pushed to the side, because you couldn’t have focused on anything else in the room if you tried.

Snow was sat on a deep red velvet ottoman at the foot of his bed, shirt buttons undone and pushed behind him, leaving you with a full view of his chest. Your eyes panned down to see his usually pristine dress pants rolled carelessly down, pooling around his ankles. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows in a similarly rushed manner. One hand was behind him, propping himself up, and the other was tightly gripping a handful of blonde hair, belonging to a girl that knelt at his feet in nothing but black underwear and stiletto heels - the culprit of the footsteps - moving her head up and down as Snow roughly guided her, lips parted, head tipped back, eyes firmly shut, breathing roughly. A few strands of damp blonde hair had fallen to his temples, just enough to make him look disheveled, yet somehow still regal, like a greek god.

You stood there, frozen. A million emotions battling for dominance in your head, anger, panic, fear, raging jealousy. Desire.

That was the one that stuck with you in the moment. It was a good thing Snow’s eyes were closed and the girl’s back was facing you, because your feet were firmly planted on the ground, watching this scene unfold, and you wouldn’t be able to go anywhere even if you tried. Watching as Snow’s breathing got heavier, as his grip on the girl’s hair got tighter and more forceful. Watching as her one arm gripped his thigh, and the other moved to where her mouth was, out of your eyeshot, and the obscenity of this was made somehow worse by the fact that you couldn’t see exactly what was happening.

Firstly, because it allowed your brain to fill in the blanks as Snow hissed through his teeth and dropped his head back. Secondly, because from this angle, you couldn’t see the girl’s face, and you were able to picture yourself in her place, wet mouth wrapped around him, being the cause of his undoing.

Come to think of it, there was another reason you were glad you couldn’t see her face, and it was purely for her sake. Because if you could’ve seen her, you would’ve had no excuse not to kill the bitch then and there.

You could hear, though. You could hear her soft moans and the lewd wetness of her mouth as her head moved even faster, before Snow took full control as his hips started to jerk, holding her head in place. There was a fire in the pit of your stomach and your lips were parted, staring. Knowing that if even for a second, Snow opened his eyes just for a glance, he’d see you immediately. You’d be hanged, probably. Or worse. And yet you didn’t run; you couldn’t. Nothing on God’s earth could’ve caused your feet to turn you around and leave the room. It was like you were suspended in some dream-like state, hearing going fuzzy, head spinning.

Then Snow started groaning, breath hitching in his throat as he got closer to the edge, you could hear it. Your brain began melting, and you didn’t have time to think through what would happen after he was finished and he saw you. If you were going to be hanged for this, it would be worth it, you thought, as his hips started to jerk even faster and his groans turned into strained whispers. Fuck and that’s it and good girl, and finally, as his eyes squeezed shut even tighter, and he came into her mouth with a strangled cry, you heard a name.

Yours.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Chat have we discussed drunk chess with cherik cause i just think. That would be the darnedest silliest thing they could do

[sturnina]

Jealousy

Chris Sturniolo x Fem!reader

— tags;; mentions of a physical fight & injury, injury tending, fighting, pet name (baby), no use of yn, toxic habits (overprotectiveness)

— wc;; 1282

— author‘s note;; my take on overprotectiveness since i hate the „touch her and you die“ trope, hope you enjoy <3

He did it again.

You don‘t know how to feel as you silently drive home, Chris in the passenger seat, seemingly oblivious to the storm raging in your mind.

He did it again. He hit a guy just because he looked at you weirdly.

Don‘t get me wrong, you love his protective side. It is hot, honestly. The way he always makes sure everyone knows you‘re his girl, the way his arm sneaks around your waist at parties, the way he gets rid of other boys trying to flirt with you.

But this… this wasn‘t protective, this was violent. He hit a guy, for the second time this week. The second time in four days.

Yes, the guy was rude and obnoxious. Yes, you felt uncomfortable around him. Yes, you were relieved when Chris came to your help after the guy wouldn‘t listen to your No’s.

But Chris‘s punch, it wasn‘t protective. It was violent, brutal, merciless. And of course, the guy hit him back, right on his cheek.

When you glance to your right, you can see the dark patch forming on your boyfriend‘s cheekbone.

You arrive home — your house, not the triplets‘ —, and you go to fetch the first aid kit immediately after entering through the front door. Chris trails in behind you, unbothered by his split lip and bruised cheek.

He just sits down at the kitchen table, knowing you will take care of him. Expecting you to.

You take an ice pack out of the refrigerator and settle down next to Chris, all in complete silence. You can‘t bear to hear his voice now, or your own. You‘re afraid it might give your thoughts away. And your eyes, your eyes will surely betray you, so you keep them focused on the ice, the bruise, your hand, anything but Chris‘s eyes. That he is looking at you constantly isn‘t helping.

But eventually, he picks up on your uncharacteristically silent behaviour.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Everything alright?”

You swallow thickly, knowing your voice will give in the second you try to speak. So you remain silent. For exactly three seconds, dabbing a cotton pad at his split lip, before Chris speaks again.

“That dick won‘t bother you anymore.”

Of course, he thinks that‘s the problem. Of course.

“That‘s not what I‘m worried about,” you mutter, stoically keeping your eyes on his injuries.

“You‘re worried about me? Oh, baby, you know I can take care of myself,“ Chris says warmly.

“That’s not… I am worried about you, Chris. You need to stop this. But-”

“Baby, you know I won‘t,“ he mutters, slowly tilting your chin up with the hand that isn‘t holding the ice pack. “Those pricks deserve it.“

“Besides the fact that no one deserves to get beat up, that‘s not what I mean,“ you say, pulling away from him. “You need to stop or you‘ll end up in serious trouble.“

“I won‘t,“ he says softly. “I promise. I just want to teach them a lesson-”

“You‘re not listening to me, Chris!”

“What are you talking about, of course I‘m listening to you,“ he says, his brows furrowing.

“No you‘re not,“ you scoff. “I see the way you look at the guys you‘re going to hit. I‘m not blind. I can see that you want it.“

“Of course I want it,“ Chris says, laying a hand on your arm. “I need to protect my girl-”

“That‘s not what I mean, and we both know it,“ you snap, quickly closing your mouth and taking a deep breath. “I am just an excuse. Don‘t deny it!“

He already opened his mouth but closes it again, worry and confusion clouding his gaze. “Baby-”

“No. Listen to me,“ you interrupt him, trying to keep your tone calm. “You like the confrontation, don‘t you? The adrenaline? But you can‘t see… You don‘t see the way it‘s hurting me.“

Chris‘s expression falters for a moment. “I don‘t- what are you- what do you mean? I don‘t understand…“ he stutters.

“No, you don‘t,“ you say softly, pulling your arm out of his grip and standing up to bring more distance between you.

He really doesn‘t. He doesn‘t understand the way your heart clenches every time a guy even just glances at you in public. He doesn’t understand the way your thoughts start racing even when someone is just walking in your direction. He doesn‘t understand the way you‘re terrified of talking to anyone while out with him — out of fear to trigger his jealousy.

The air feels thick as you look at his expression, his desperate eyes, the bruise on his cheek and his still-bleeding lip.

“Explain it to me,“ he says, “please, what am I doing wrong?“

“You don‘t see the way you‘re hurting me, hurting everyone around you,“ you whisper, your voice just as thick now. The words feel like they‘re stuck in your throat and you have to force yourself to speak them. „I hate seeing people hurt, especially you. I hate seeing you get hurt, and knowing- knowing that it‘s because of me.“

“That‘s not true, baby, I‘m-”

“Please, Chris,“ you whisper, tears collecting in your eyes, “Please let me finish. I hate avoiding to go- to go out in public with you just because I can‘t… I can‘t trust you not to lash out at someone, I hate b-being scared every time someone looks at me or talks to me, I- I just… I hate seeing you angry, I hate seeing you violent, I hate seeing you like that… And yet you- you keep doing it, n-no matter how o-often I ask you to stop…“ Your throat is clogged, your breaths are laboured, your eyes are watering, and you physically can‘t speak anymore, the words having drained out of your head. But there is one sentence left, one you‘re terrified to even think.

And Chris is just standing there, the words burning in his mind, on his skin, digging into his flesh while he tries not to rush to hug you because he knows, he knows it wouldn‘t help. And then he feels the tears running down his face, and the pain ripping through his chest. You don‘t trust him. You can‘t trust him, you said it yourself. You‘re scared of him.

Fists clenching at his sides, he lets that sink in. Everything he‘s done for you, everything he thought he‘s done for you, crumbles under the heavy weight of reality, the realisation that he‘s been hurting you all along.

He steps forward, raises his arms, and sees the way you cross your arms. A shielding gesture. Chris thinks he can hear his heart finally shatter at that, after slowly cracking over the entire conversation.

There are no words he can use to explain himself. He knows he should apologise. But how do you apologise after terrifying your girl over and over again without even noticing? What words are there to express the mixture of frustration, fear, and self-hatred he‘s feeling against himself?

Chris drops his arms to his sides.

He turns around, and leaves.

And you are left alone. The front door slams closed, but you don‘t even flinch. Your mind is full, and so are your eyes, your ears, everything is clogged with memories, everything is breaking inside you, but you are relieved.

You are relieved, because how could you bear his overwhelming presence any longer, with one last question, one last sentence burning on your mind, a question you can‘t ignore but also can‘t speak, not in front of him?

How can you be sure he will never lash out at you? How can you be sure that you will never be on the receiving end of his fist?

masterlist

[dinarosie]

Me when I'm writing a meta about Snape's death and realize that when Voldemort summoned him for the last time, he probably knew he was going to die and was thinking about how, from the very beginning, it was his fate to be killed in the Shrieking Shack:

[ricky-mortis]

Howdy, Hello there! Here is my piece for this year’s @hatchetfield-bang!

I’s a companion to the wonderful, @mythuzalasheir3 ‘s fic, “Does This Look Like The Goddamn Abstinence Camp To You?”- which you all should go read!

[sharp-silver4795]

can I have bloody painter x reader cuddling/kissing headcanons?

Ofc! He’s fun to write 🤭

Bloody Painter Relationship HCs

I uh- kinda did more than cuddles…. I went full romance on this

Cuddling

He loves to spoon. Wrapping his hands around your waist or midsection makes him feel warm and giddy.

Buddy’s kinda short, so he’s not against being the little spoon!

Lays between your legs on his back with his head on your chest/abdomen when he wants attention.

Rest your chin on his shoulder and he’s in heaven.

Helen can and will sit on your lap for hugs that way. He doesn’t care if it’s atypical for a guy, he’s short and tiny and perfect teddy bear size.

Don’t tease him about it though. Especially if you’re tickling 👀

He’s impossible to tickle

Kisses

I’ve said before that he’s ass in bed, but he’ll kiss you so sweetly.

He loves you so much, he’s never been good a physically showing it.

He will kiss your head while walking by randomly.

If you’re cuddling, don’t be surprised if you get a lil red mark from him kissing you on the same spot too many times.

He’s a man of habit 🤷

He wants to kiss you every chance he can. You lips are so nice against his and he just can’t help but feel like he’s worthy in your eyes.

Every damn time he’s biting his tongue to keep him from saying pinch me. Is this real?

Date Night

He’ll ask you to come to his room, walk you to one of the highest levels of the dungeon castel, motion you to his window, show you the stars from it.

He’d take you up to the roof at dusk to show you the Earth Star (Saturn).

If you ever wanna take the relationship further (💍) he’ll always tell you no since the only rings worthy of you were stolen by Neptune.

Picnics, sleeping in, doing dishes, cleaning the castel, watching a movie and falling asleep a quarter of the way through. Those are his favorite moments.

Creepypasta Love = Insane Love

He’d never paint you. To him, being in one of his paintings is a death sentence. No matter how many times you ask, he’ll never do it.

Instead, he’ll draw others for you. Any issues you have with someone, they’ll be in his paintings.

Yes! He will kill for you. And he will do so shamelessly.

Lil blurb: Cold Nights

Info: 2nd person POV, BP is referred to as Helen & Hel cuz nicknames 🤷

Summary: It’s cold out, the heat is out, and you’re not the only one who’s chilly.

It’s cold out. The heating isn’t working- no shocker there, this place is damn near older than the country it’s in.

You curl into the sheets for warmth, and are met with no comfort. It seems like even the BED is frozen.

Hands on your arms, shivering, you scale the stairs up to the southeast tower where your boyfriend resides. Once you get to the top, you realise that this was likely a mistake. Higher altitude means it’s gonna be colder. That is, until you see that there’s… steam coming from Helen’s room.

You walk in and find that he is fresh out of a warm shower. He looks at you calmly in very warm-looking jammies. You practically waddles to him, feeling like an ice block. When your head hits his shoulder, it clicks in his head.

He walks you to his bed, lays down, and motions for you to cuddle up with him. He runs his fingers through your hair, before they rest at your cheek, to pull your face to his, kissing you softly.

He breaks the tender touch, Your mouth is cold. He laughs at your unamused stare. “Fuck you, Hel.” His laughter only grows. You snuggle up together for the night. You gotta stay warm somehow.

Divider Creds: Sister-Lucifer

I hope you liked this! Sorry if it was too much- I did a bit extra….

Feedback is always appreciated!

[plistommy]

When Eddie comes back to his trailer from one of his Corrored Coffin’s gigs, all sweaty and smelling like cigarettes, Steve finds it hot every single time.

He’d stare at this boyfriend as he’d yap about his gig and how big the crowd was while taking his clothes off, tight leather pants and firm tank top under his vest, damp with sweat.

Once Eddie threw his top to the floor, Steve had to swallow his moan when his boyfriends shirtless body was on full display, tattoos and nipples hard and all for Steve’s hungry eyes to see.

”Like what you’re seeing?” Eddie grins, pulling Steve away from his dirty thoughts as his eyes finally land on Eddie’s.

”I - uh… yeah. You look really fucking hot.”

Steve sounded so breathless.

Eddie chuckled before he slowly moved to stand beside the bed, legs sliding between Steve’s spread legs as he took his boyfriend's blushed face in his hands.

”You should’ve seen me on the stage. I would’ve made a big show for you, baby.” Eddie murmured, voice slightly hoarse from singing, or more like from screaming.

He pushed Steve’s fallen bangs back, massaging his scalp a little which made Steve bite back a moan.

He had wanted to come and see Eddie’s gig so badly, but his shift hadn’t ended until 12 am - thanks to the holidays - and Corroded’s gig had started an hour before that, so he had just come to Eddie’s place to wait and meet his boyfriend there.

The knowledge still made him pout.

”I know, Eddie- I should’ve, I’m sorry,” Steve whined when Eddie tugged his hair back, making his wet mouth form into a pretty o shape as Eddie looked down at him.

”Don’t apologize, sweetheart.” Eddie caressed his cheek softly and leaned down to kiss him, making Steve moan as he finally felt his boyfriend’s lips on him.

When Eddie pulled back, he gave Steve’s nose a small peck before taking a step back - hand still holding Steve’s cheek - and grabbing the towel from his chair.

Steve hadn’t even realized Eddie had gotten naked.

He couldn’t help but to glance at the nice and thick dick between them.

”I’ll take a quick shower-” Eddie didn’t get to finish because Steve let out a pitiful cry on the bed.

”Nooo—Eddie, please! I need you!”

Eddie looked taken back for a whole two seconds before a knowing smirk creeped its way up to his face.

”You need me?” Steve nodded and Eddie grinned more, ”How?”

”I… I- I need you to fuck me.”

Steve didn’t give a single crap that he sounded so needy and honestly, like a slut. He always has been and he had no shame in that. No shame in begging for his boyfriend's cock.

”I haven’t showered.”

It was like Eddie wanted to be a tease on purpose.

He knew how Steve got off of seeing him getting ready for a gig, at the gig and after it. Eddie was always the hottest he’s ever been when he was doing the things he loved.

Playing, singing and fucking Steve.

And he knew Steve got riled up about his smell, even once catching him jerking off while breathing in Eddie’s sweaty shirt after a gig.

He had fucked Steve stupid, feeding his cock into that tight heat and thrusting his cock in and out so fast that it had made Steve’s toes curl as he cried for more with the shirt still planted next to his face.

So, Eddie acting like he needed to shower was out of the question.

”Doesn’t matter, Eds. I need you to fuck me right now, please please pleaaaaase…” Steve cried as he desperately got on his knees on the bed, not even close to the same level with Eddie’s face, but still closer as he wrapped his arms around Eddie’s neck.

”I need your dick inside me.” He whispered against Eddie’s lips and Eddie let out a breathless laugh as his hands came down to squeeze Steve’s ass through his underwear.

”A needy boy.”

”Yes-yes!” Steve nodded hurriedly and kissed Eddie.

Eddie just smiled against his lips before wrapping his hands around the back of Steve’s thighs and manhandling him to lay on his back.

Steve let out a laugh when Eddie came to lay between his legs, body still sticky with sweat.

”You really have a thing for a sweaty and smelly metalhead? I’m surprised I’m not grossing the little Stevie out.”

”Never, Eddie” A kiss, ”God you’re so hot you have no idea.”

”I may have a small hunch.” Eddie grinned and dived right into Steve’s neck, making the younger boy moan happily under him as he was finally able have his boyfriend this close and just smell.

[unpopularwriter25]

Clash of Hearts

Summary: Y/N is tired of Sanemi being mean to everyone. One night in his room leads to bickering and something more.

Warnings: 18+!! Minors go away...I guess smutt? Not hard terms though.

Note: I TOLD MYSELF I WASN'T GOING TO WRITE THIS SHIT. SON OF BITCH. AGH. This might be shit but I hope you Sanemi simps enjoy. (Let me know if this is something I should try again. I was so hesitant about posting it.)

Sanemi and Y/N had always been like oil and water, their personalities clashing at every turn. Her sweet nature and his aggressive demeanor seemed like they could never find common ground. She couldn’t understand how someone could be so mean, especially to someone as kind as Tanjiro.

One evening, their latest argument found them in the confines of Sanemi’s room. Y/N had taken issue with the way Sanemi was talking to Tanjiro, his harsh words and sharp tone grating on her nerves. Sanemi’s irritation was palpable, his brow furrowed and jaw set. Y/N huffed in frustration.

“Fine, whatever,” she snapped. “Just stop being mean to everyone.”

She turned to leave, but before she could take a step, Sanemi’s arm shot out, blocking her path. “We’re not done here,” he growled.

Y/N spun back to face him, eyes blazing. “What are you talking abou—”

Before she could finish her sentence, his lips crashed into hers with a force that stole her breath away. She let out a soft gasp, her hands flying to his chest in surprise. Their tongues intertwined in a fierce dance, each kiss more desperate than the last. His hands roamed her body, slipping under her uniform with a sense of urgency, groping and squeezing as if he couldn’t get enough.

They undressed each other in a frenzy, clothes discarded carelessly onto the floor. Sanemi lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist as he backed her into the wall. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging and pulling, urging him on. He was rough, each movement driven by a pent-up aggression that he had kept bottled up for too long.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he murmured into her ear, his voice a low, husky growl. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

Y/N’s eyes rolled back at his words, a whimper escaping her lips. The sounds she was making were driving him wild, each gasp and moan pushing him closer to the edge. He gripped her tighter, his fingers digging into her skin, surely leaving bruises in their wake. She buried her face in his neck, trying to muffle her cries, her nails clawing at his back as he picked up the pace.

“Sanemi,” she gasped, her voice barely a whisper. “Please…”

With a final, forceful thrust, they both reached their peak, their bodies trembling with the intensity of their release. Sanemi held her close, his forehead resting against hers as they both tried to catch their breath. Her legs still wrapped around him, she clung to him, her body spent but her mind reeling.

As they stood there, still pressed against the wall, Y/N buried her face in the crook of his neck, her breath hot against his skin. “Sanemi,” she murmured, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible. “I hate how much I need you.”

He tightened his grip on her, his heart pounding in his chest. “I know,” he whispered back, his voice rough with emotion. “I know.”

For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the connection they had found in each other’s arms. Despite their differences, in that moment, they were perfect for each other.

[rainychaoloveshack]

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬. 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐠.

you both decide to read and cuddle together while listening to the rain.

content. sonic x gn!reader. slightly suggestive around the end.

☂︎ wc. 1.3k ☂︎ a/n. hi. first post here! gonna use sonic to start us off. expect me to reuse this “reading and cuddling” idea more than once, hehe…

likes, reblogs, and especially comments are extremely appreciated!!!

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

┊ ⋆ ┊   .   ┊   ┊

┊    ┊⋆     ┊   .

┊    ┊       ⋆˚              

✧. ┊         

⋆｡˚ 🌨 ˚｡⋆｡🌩˚☽˚｡⋆ 

☂︎

Sonic finally came back. It’s been practically weeks, and you made SURE to count each day he was gone. It went from one day, to two, three, four, five, and then it passed the double digits soon enough. It got lonely without that bundle of sunshine and excitement beside you every passing day, but he heard the call of adventure and just had to take off running, like he usually does.

But suddenly, without any warning beforehand, he’s home. 

You could feel the excitement surge through you as he showed up on your doorstep, soaked from the pattering rain outdoors, yet holding a soaked bouquet for you; a welcome surprise you didn’t expect this time around. The flowers almost shone through the soft amber lighting coming from your abode, and Sonic held up the bouquet for you to take.

“I-I’m home!” He says cheerfully, his ears flicking as you take the bouquet from his grasp, yet he can’t hide the small tremble in his throat and his hands as his body slightly shivers from the rain. “Sorry for not telling you prior about why I ran off. I’ll explain it all!” He spreads his hands out wide in a sort of begging gesture, water droplets flicking off his gloved fingertips, pleading with you not to be angry or aggravated with him. Like you ever could. “Everything!” He’s never been a water person, either. Poor honey.

“Ah- Huh?” Sonic exclaims softly in surprise as you tug him inside quickly, urging to get him out of the rain as soon as possible. “Wait, hold on! Y-You don’t wanna hear what happened at all?” 

He can tell you about his big adventure later. Right now, he needs to warm up.

It took a while to get him dry, too. Every step he took left a small puddle on your floor as the water droplets fell from each of his quills, a small, embarrassed “sorry” leaving those soft lips of his as he chuckled off his nerves. You could tell he wanted to complain, frown, and groan about the water, yet a smile stayed plastered on his lips, just for you.

After an hour or two of him telling you about his adventure for the chaos emerald, while simultaneously drying every part of him you possibly could with a towel, the rain hadn’t let up at all. He had the bright idea of reading together with you while the rain was still going, and of course, you agreed.

Sonic dragged his gloved finger down the spine of several books on your bookshelf; a collection of both of your favorites shelved between wooden walls. His finger stops on a thick, leather-covered book as he slips it out of its slot.

“Here it is!” The blue hedgehog exclaims, tugging it out, and you lock eyes with the cover title, tilting your head at his choice.

King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table again?

“What?” He murmurs, holding the book close to his chest once he sees your skeptical expression; as if you’re going to hurt the book's feelings. “It’s a good read!”

It reminds you of a detailed dream he described to you about this place called “Camelot”. Apparently, he was dubbed “Knight of the Wind”, and had a companion talking sword called Caliburn. You always ask him to retell it to you sometimes, since he does so in great detail, almost like he was truly there. But it sounds like a fairytale, albeit, a really interesting one.

“Just cause you can’t see how cool it is doesn’t mean I can’t read it myself.” Sonic huffs, his ear flicking as a soft chuckle leaves your throat at his defensive tone. Despite trying to fight it, a small smile spreads onto his face once he sees yours. Sonic can be so cute sometimes, despite his annoying cocky self.

Before you know it, he’s already making his way right to you, sitting down with a small grunt, and scooting closer to the point where your legs almost touch each other.

It almost shocks you that reading is all he wants to do right now, after being gone for so long. Usually you two would just mess around throughout the place, running and goofing off. However, the pattering of the rain on the roof does make for a nice ambiance. Along with the dim lighting of the room, it fills you with a sort of warmth you haven’t felt since he left.

As he flips through a couple of pages to get where he marked his last one, he peers up at you, feeling your gaze right on him. “If you don’t wanna read this one, I could always get something else for us.” Before you can even utter the words ‘it’s fine’, he’s already shutting the book and getting right back up on his feet, and you have to latch onto his wrist lightly, urging him to sit back down with you.

“You sure?” Sonic looks down at you, tilting his head to the side as you let go of him and pat the now vacant spot next to you. He smiles, sitting back down as his little tail wags, opening the book back to the spot he left off on. “Alright! But if you get bored, just tell me, okay?”

You got lucky enough to have such an enthusiastic narrator beside you, as he begins to tell you the tale with all the dramatic flair you had hoped for. But as the minutes passed, you both found comfort in just sitting and reading silently together, listening to the rain hit your roof and windows, with the occasional sound of the page-turning once you gave him the signal to do so.

At some point, you get a bit irritated with having to crane your head over to see the words on the page, and you scoot up closer to Sonic, and his gaze trails off the pages to your body beside him.

“What's up?” He says, an innocent look on his face, but then you push up against him further, finally getting a good view of said story resting in his lap. He moves his hand away from the left side of the book, letting your left hand replace his as you both hold the book together. “Oh,” Sonic says softly, a bit surprised, but open to the sudden closeness nonetheless as your right arm nudges him closer.

“You really wanna get closer to me, huh?” Sonic chuckles softly, his arm snaking around your lower back to rest on your hip. “Did you miss me that much while I was gone?” He teases quietly, pushing you closer to him as your legs press against him, but his grin falters once you grin and shake your head, tilting your head at him as you mention the sudden bouquet, gesturing to said flowers resting comfortably in the vase you put them in. Sonic has never been much of a gift-giver regarding romantic gestures, so what brought that up?

“Hey,” he mutters, his ears flicking down as he nudges you slightly, his usual confident and cocky flair faltering. “Don’t mention it. I just happened to pass by a flower field on the way home, so…” Sonic trails off, trying to fight an embarrassed frown on his face, and you can feel his cheeks heat up as he presses his face against your chest. “Just read with me. The rains even nice too. Sounds nice…”

How cute. He’s trying to change the subject. You lean over, pressing a kiss on the tip of his ear as it flicks over in your direction, followed by a soft giggle from him.

“C’mon, don’t do that; it tickles. You’re gonna distract me.” He taps the book with his thumb, still holding the right side as he looks up at you. “Man, do you even want to read with me at this point?” He pouts, tilting his head as your hand slowly drags down his hip, hugging him closer to you as an affectionate gesture. “I really did want to read with you, but if you’re not up for it…”

“We could always do something else to pass the time, yeah? I could think of a couple different things…”

[silvers-starrway]

So the wildest thing happened where @mactheactor decided to dub over (if that's even the correct terminology) the Chaos Sonic animation I made!!!!

I'm still in utter awe about this like, hands down the coolest thing ever I've been thinking about this non-stop. Hope y'all enjoy it as much as I do!!

[transmascutena]

the poor little meow meow-ifictation of saionji in this fandom has got to stop i can't take it any more