#sundowning fic

[losersimonriley]

Soap: I love you like tattie scones (affectionate)

Ghost: the fuck did you just say to me

[pillowspace]

Remember that dream I had awhile ago where Sun was a god? I still think about it sometimes. Anyway, I redesigned him

[noahl-art]

Listen @hypnoneghoul you can't just drop a wonderful and heartwarming Swiss Cowboy being so smitten by transfem barmaid Mountain fic without expecting something from me!!!!! 🤠🫠

It's only a 5 minutes sketch there is more coming you better prepare!! 😤

[strawbubbysugar]

Two sides of an ever flipping coin.

Heads. You’d always felt like you’d been missing something. Another half. The impulse to your control.

Tails. You’d always felt like you’d been missing something. Another half. The control to your impulse.

Until one day, the flipping stopped, and the coin landed.

Exactly on its side.

@pillowspace

[sukunasun]

Halloween is over but what are your thoughts on ghostface jjk man x chubby reader? 👀

tw dub-con / knifeplay

its more than just being the final girl—watching you behind a cheap mask he's bought. for hours, for days, over the course of long, long, months. hiding in dark corners, and hidden spaces—the things he's planned aren't to be wasted on some brutal, violent death. stabbing and slashing. because as you lay on soft pillows and pressed sheets, curves and folds on display, so oblivious, so unassuming...he's dying to sink more than just a knife into all that flesh.

not to hurt you of course, but what is he to do when he's got killer instinct and your body was made to be held, fondled....claimed. there's only so much a man can resist.

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when geto asks "what are you wearing?" over the phone, his words hold some amusement to them, mocking. almost like he knows you're scared. yet somewhat ...mellow, trusting...and so hot it flays you, a heat traveling low and dipping in your stomach, fear and arousal jumbled up in one, searing in your belly.

your breath hitches at the sound of his muffled laugh crackling through the speaker. you could just indulge yourself in this little game he plays, no harm would ever come to you. this way, you could ignore the insecurities and the nerves. relish in anonymity. and every second you keep him waiting to expose you for the depraved thing that you are, getting wet and drooly over a stranger, a dark, mysterious, and very sexy stranger, you realize how pathetic, how cliched you're being. "i can hear how turned on you are..." he's so right it's embarrassing.

when he's looming above you the next day, there's no time wasted. he angles your toy against a sensitive spot and you feel it nudge and grind deep inside, keeps sliding it up and down your folds, "that's it, feel that? you should see how wet you are," your shaky thighs spread open, pussy sticky and gleaming with cum, so slick, so slippery, every pass of the toy on your slit jolting you closer to release.

"you don't want to kill me..." you say in a daze. turning your head to the side, you moan into the sheets, it's too much, your ghost caller watching you, playing with you, withholding and keeping you from reaching your peak. you know the things he could do...there's no need to see his face or learn his name to realise he's a little bit of a bully like that. teasing you, edging you, that you'd only come by his hand. beautiful gloved hands that are larger than two of yours put together.

"and why is that?" geto coos, wanting to wrap a fist around your exposed neck, untouched and unmarred, just waiting to be marked. you wish to tell him that you'd do anything, pleading for your life, but that coil in your stomach twists, adrenaline egging you on, allowing you to be a little bolder, "you need me...don't you? you need me to be yours," you whimper out the challenge. fingers reaching up to hook in between his mask and face, bringing him closer to you, before you press a kiss to where his mouth would be. feeling only hard plastic and his hot, sighing breaths underneath.

you see his shoulders tense, your toy dropping to the side of the bed, forgotten and whirring. he's left so stunned. and it's this that you earn—his lips barely forming a reply, no sly smirks or subtle jabs to your pride, just the sound of his ragged breaths that fill the room and the slick, measured pumps of his fist over his cock, thumb spreading the fluid that leaks, drools, literally pools over your stomach—"you have no fucking idea..." he groans, his resolve vanishing, his smugness stripped away the more you moan for him, why do you tease him so. these hairline cracks you'd spotted and split right down the middle with merely a gentle touch at where he's the weakest...geto's only so strong, frustrated at his own need for your willingness, your eager soft hands that trail up and down his biceps. who dares to pet a wild animal, reaching out without fear of getting trapped in sharp jaws.

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sukuna's not as weak. he's been on the hunt for years, trying to curb his appetite for murder with whatever nameless faces he deemed uninteresting, had them piled up and ready to be disposed of without so much as another glance. he's bored...terribly so, and starving, salivating, for the perfect kill. only now he thinks otherwise when a newfound purpose reveals itself in the shape of you.

if only you'd been careful, if only you'd been cautious. maybe then, you wouldn't be pinned below the stranger in a mask, the cold edge of his knife perched against the jugular as your jaw starts to bruise from his tight grasp. "im keeping you," he merely states, "you're gonna be mine forever, you hear me?" he start kissing the side of your face, sloppily, messily. you don't see his face but you imagine he'd look like a monster, with sharp teeth and a hundred eyes, maybe four or six hands the way he's gripping and touching you everywhere, trying to get his fill of you. his cock thick and large and splitting you in half, almost as if he had two.

"you don't have to do this," you sob, feeling another orgasm rock through you. you squeeze down on him, your slick coating everywhere. oh you smell like sweat and fear and he doesn't care one bit that tears stream down your face, swollen lips trembling. a face pressed into the pillows that bear a muddled expression.

under the weight of his hulking body from above, you know there's no way of escaping his clutches, your moans turn guttural, "i can't, it's too much..." you whine, hands coming up to push him away, to clutch at his chest behind you, tapping out from the overstimulation. he's rubbing against a spot so sensitive, pounding right into it. you think you'd go crazy, "please...i've been good..." you whine, voice pitching into a drawn-out moan, "been so good for you," pleading and pleading. you don't think it was the best choice of words, but in the haze of pleasure, you could only persuade him with obedience. with submission.

it does nothing to deter him from his ministrations, chuckling at the way your voice breaks, the way you look a mess, coming undone and staining your sheets, the thin line of blood dribbling from your neck. "just one more yeah?" he coos, "i know...i know it feels good, you're starting to fall in love with it aren't you?" he starts going faster, building to his climax, and you gasp in surprise when he shifts his position to collapse onto your back. his arms hugging you around the middle as he continues to jerk his hips erratically.

you don't say anything in return, but you do give in...teeth biting down on your pillow the moment your orgasm hits you, legs shaking and his spurting dick lodged deep inside you.

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gojo's completely obsessed. and you don't notice it at first because his personality covers up most of his hidden intentions, concealing that part of him that's been following your every move, trailing after you and waiting for a moment to strike...he gets personal because satoru's always been like that, needy, clingy, and he knows there's no need for the mask, you'd know it was him, but he likes it that way. relishes the moment you grapple with feeling betrayed by a man you trusted. says it's your fault really for being way too closed-minded. "what was it you said? that i wouldn't be into big girls?" he laughs, sounding crazed, frenzied.

"i thought you knew me better..." he tuts, keeps his hands busy in the meantime by wrapping rope around your wrists, weaving it across your tits, crisscrossing down your stomach, and circling around your thick thighs. his fingers knot and loop the bright red rope with practiced ease, making a pattern across your body with just the right amount of tension, just enough that it wouldn't cut into your skin...but he makes no promises.

stepping back, he tugs at the base of his rig above you, just for precaution, but he knows you'll stay right where you are for however long he wants. no, you're not gonna fall, he knows that's what you're thinking about despite it having to be the last of your priorities.

"look at you..." he marvels at his handiwork. your legs spread for him, feet dangling and having no leverage. with arms tied behind your back, he gets to see how lovely your tits look when spilling from beneath the rope, although...he'd say the best part is seeing his blindfold tied around your mouth as a makeshift gag.

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and choso's just...sweet isn't he..so keen, so restless. he promises he won't hurt you, he just wants a taste, to know what it feels like. and you'd dare him to but he's not made to kill and he knows it. it's why his knife stays loose and forgotten in his hand when he greets the sight of you behind a door left ajar.

the creaking hinge, his heavy boots, and the harsh pull of his breaths are all enough to send goosebumps rising. slow and measured, his feet come to a halt at the foot of your bed. he thinks you did it on purpose. doors and windows left unlocked and your curtains so sheer it's no wonder he's made to be an audience to your little peep shows every night. "you knew i've been watching you..." he whispers, realization hits—and surprisingly, you think you hear the petulance in his voice, like he was pouting. actually pouting.

and you see it first when he takes off the mask. face awestruck from watching you lay back, your eyes meeting his stare from between the swell of your breasts, your tummy, suddenly his face has a lot more life in it, dark circles meeting the reddening edge of his blushing cheek, pale lips wet and drooling, his tongue slipping past, inching closer. "please....please," is such a lovely sound when it slips past them, frenzied and feverish, words he can barely get a hold of before you feel it curling around your bones, wheedling its way into your heart, and squeezing tight. wanting to give in to the man who creeps from afar, who can't stop following and tracing your every move.

your eyes roll back when your folds part under the wet muscle, warm and slick. and it's not a secret by now that you're not as shy as you seem to be. he's mesmerized, transfixed. is this the same woman he's been spying on...always keeping to herself, getting her life together, with prim and proper clothing and a nine-to-five job...now wrapped in nothing but moonlight and presenting yourself to him, legs spreading to reveal the wet that sticks to your folds, hardening nub that twitches at your touch, at the circles and gentle flicks against your clit. your eyes stay fixed on his, wordlessly giving him permission almost as if you've been waiting for him. he wonders if it's just as long as he's been wanting you.

[centuryberry]

@peachshadows/@terrible-leviathan Dangit, this was supposed to be a oneshot.

Summary: Macaque couldn't believe what he was seeing. But it was real. She was real.

[torchflies]

Jake kicks his crutches pointedly, still not opening his eyes. “So because I'm a foster kid, I'm a thief? I don't just scream Little Orphan Annie to you?” He blows a wet raspberry. Once again, the man doesn't rise to the occasion. “Your Dad is the best pilot I know, I just figured you'd be like him.”   (In which, College Ice did not keep it in his pants and Jake tells a story about moths… one that isn't actually about moths).

[inasunlitroom]

“you’re trouble, aren’t you?” || moodboard for sundown by @bageldaddy

[spyrkle4]

Sundown drawing! It's painting pumpkins with Jesse's gang! and Jayden's there too

Happy fall guys!

[writernothingness]

More out of context tags from my fics:

[topgunincolor]

Top Gun in Color Event Sign-up!

Ready to celebrate Top Gun characters of color? Have a Fanback fic idea brewing? Always imagined there was a little more going on between Javy and Jake? Think Hondo needs a little TLC? This event is for you! 

This is a POC-focused Top Gun event. Fic, art, and other creations are welcome. All creations must focus on at least one character who is a POC. The work may be romantic, platonic, or a single-character study.

The minimum word count for fic is 500 words and the minimum contribution for art is a black and white sketch.

Sign-ups run through March 17th at 10 pm ET and submissions will be published to the collection May 3rd - May 6th.

SIGN UP HERE!

Rules & Schedule

Looking for resources on writing/drawing characters of color? Check out some resources here. 

This event is hosted by Storm (enthyrea) and Saturn (icemav86).

[losersimonriley]

HELP

[pillowspace]

offerings for the Sun and Moon gods!

Mays I, perhaps, bestow upon them lil rag dolls of themselves?

Ohh, these are perfect! Right, Moon? What do you want in return?

[Jingle jingle jingle jingle jingle]

They enjoy!

[noahl-art]

pspsps just letting you know the next chapter of sundown is gonna have spiceee heheheh but also I'm so very happy you like it and you totally murdered me /pos with that swiss sketch <3

AAAAAAH I'M GONNA GO ABSOLUTELY BONKERS vjsrhgizerh

Also perfect timing because... here is Mounty 🥰✨ (again sorry it's only 5 minutes sketches) She deserves the whole world 🥹

please read the fic!!!!!! On AO3 or here

[cordycepspog]

Do you think Frank ever invited Tess and Joel over for a wine and karaoke night. And at first Bill and Joel would sit there looking grumpy and reluctant drinking their wine while Frank sang along to 70s songs before Tess gets the courage to sing along too. And both Bill and Joel are watching them fondly over the lip of their glasses. And eventually a few drinks in Frank pulls out the Linda Ronstadt (cheeky bastard that he is, he knows exactly what he’s doing) and pulls Bill up to dance with him. And Tess settles down beside Joel, their shoulders brushing as they watch Bill and Frank dance together for a while. And then, very gently, Tess slips her hand into Joel’s and pulls him up to slow dance, and even if he hesitates at first he sees her face, and he lets her pull him up. And as dusk draws near, the two couples spin in slow circles in the living room, cradled by good music, good wine, and good company. Do you think they ever did that.

[rochenn]

"reach" for the wip word guessing game :) --catboydogma

Ayyy that's a bingo for the 1872 cowboy fic!! :D The title changes constantly, but for now, it's called Ways from Sundown. Here are the opening lines:

A rattle rose from the brush, barely audible over the thumping of thousands of hooves. Cody heard it all the same, one hand on his revolver, the other by his mouth. Whistling a warning through his fingers—for his fellow drovers, not for the snake—he took aim.

The shot ripped through the air that was just beginning to warm, and in the light of the early morning he saw the rattler’s tail flop and twitch. Dead. Tendrils of sunshine reached past San Antonio's chimneys in the East. From the South, a mild breeze carried onward a mixture of smells that brought a smile to Cody's face.

Cow shit and promise.

I did so much research for this one man. The 1872 AU verse research document is massive. I'm becoming an insular encyclopedia of all sorts of events that happened in 19th century Texas, England, Ireland and Italy. I can't ever write anything short 🧎🏼