#request for beta

[hyperfixed-owl]

Request for beta reader!

Would anyone be interested in beta reading my fic/WIPs?

I think having another person to talk through stuff will really help my impostor syndrome and improve my writing.

I usually only write a chapter at a time, 1k-2k in length and I’m not writing to a set schedule so there’s no time pressure!

Preferably someone who also enjoys reading/writing in the Helluvaverse would be great and I’m also happy to beta for anyone else!

Thanks 🙏

[dudoserswag]

Could you draw a baby Rose maybe ? If you take requests 💛

Hiii! Here's ur baby rose

And also i draw all little beta kids! :]

[typing-catastrophe]

Charles Xavier - only one bed (headcanons)

request: "gmorning! with deadpool 3 bringing around the xmen renaissance ive found myself once again totally obsessed w james mcavoy and was wondering if i could req an only one bed charles xavier x reader piece please ! i feel like theres just so much to be done w that trope, the mutual pining, the fluster, the rushed confessions, and ive somehow never seen anymore pair it w charles yet ?? i trust your vision completely, thank you so much and have a lovely day!"

a/n: thank you so much for your request anon ^^ I am also working on a longer piece (actual oneshot, no bulletpoints), so stay tuned for that and in the mean time have this :P hope you like it

💕 fluff

oohhh the temptation

charles trying so hard not to give in and read your mind

he is just so goddamn curious as to know what you're thinking about your current situation

because he can feel you laying next to him all tensed up and it makes him nervous

you're both idiots in love with the other, have been for a while, and both to scared to make the first move

you're convinced he isn't interested in you at all, and are too scared to ruin the friendship to say anything

and he is convinced he would drive away the only friend he made asides from raven and would end up feeling much lonelier than before

he technically is confident enough but at the same time doesn't want to risk anything going wrong or making it awkward between the two of you

when it gets too much for him, he strikes up a conversation which would end up in you two laughing and finally being comfortable in each others space again

when you tell him that you're having a hard time falling asleep at new places, he would offer to tell you about his research, because it helps raven fall asleep

when you both eventually fall asleep, he unconsciously shifts over and holds you close

you stir awake from the movement next to you, already dozing off again when you feel an arm sneak over your stomach and an explosion of butterflies when charles pulls you close

(that man needs someone to cuddle at night and you can't convince me otherwise. he's a cuddler.)

now wide awake and heartbeat going faster by the second, you franticly try to think of what to do next

when you try to scoot away, you're not only met with resistance but with him pulling you back and nuzzling his nose into your neck and hair

you lay there in defeat for a few minutes, enough time for your heartbeat to settle again. then you decide to turn around in his arms

you use the opportunity to look at him his beautiful facial features, all relaxed and peaceful. you'd never allow yourself to stare at him like this, in fear of getting caught

when he started to wake up and blinking a few times, you know you should look away, but you're so captured by him that you can't bring yourself to do so

so you're laying face to face with him, only inches apart, holding your breath

"hey... can't sleep?" he asks with a soft tone and smile

you shake your head the tiniest bit and a stray lock of hair falls into your face

he reaches out to tuck it behind your ear and lets his hand linger

even without using his powers he is almost sure to know what you think in that moment

so he leans in closer and asks "may I?"

you whisper a breathless "please" and before you know it, he presses the softest kiss to your lips

you almost whine when he leans back again

"you look so beautiful, darling" and "forgive me, we should've done this a lot sooner"

you couldn't agree more

sleepy, soft kisses turn into more intense ones turn into makeout session

so much suppressed feelings resurfacing, you can't get enough of each other

when your shirt hitches up and his hand grazes your bare skin, you let out a small noise of surprise and jump a little at the sudden contact

charles moves his hand away, not wanting to make you uncomfortable or do something you're not ready for, when you reach down and put his hand back, reassuring that it is okay for you

he doesn't mind at all if you don't want to go any further, he can't believe his luck of you reciprocating his feelings at all in the first place

if you do want to go further, that man will give you the best and softest, most loving time of your life

given that that would be your first time together, you would keep it simple and stick to getting to know each other and each others likes

first and foremost he would concentrate on making you feel good

[totallynotashieldagent]

If I Say Please

Pairing: Tim Drake/Reader

Summary: Tim has no idea how perverted his girlfriend's mind is for him.

Author's Note: Written for @sophsthebest.

Refer to THIS POST if you want something more <33 Give me a nasty prompt <33

It's not obvious. It's never obvious. Where your mind goes, how your eyes follow Tim. He can be so sharp but so... ignorant at times. His brain working overtime for certain things but completely unaware when it came to you.

You were his sweetest little thing. And to an extent, he was right. You were sweet. Adorably so. But the way you brain worked, the way your pussy throbbed whenever you looked at him. All the lewd images your mind played when you watched him do anything .

Oh- He was not privy to that at all.

Even now, for example. As you sat across him in his room. He was tapping away, furiously focused on his laptop while you sat on the bed, pretending to read a book.

You sighed softly, your finger fidgeting at the corner of the page as you watched him. Hunched over, running his hand through his hair every now and then but the dark hair kept falling into his eyes again and again.

He had that determined look on his face. The one that made you want to climb into his lap and ride him until he cried.

You smiled to yourself. God- He has no idea . You bit your lip to stop yourself from making a sound. Your thighs clenched together tightly but it did nothing to help the aching need pooling in your gut that was seeping into your cunt.

.

Continue Reading. . . . Fic Masterlist.

[cowabungacatharsis]

alpha kids lineup for a request that i may or may not have lost

[sickwhispers]

Hii!! can we pls have a twisted!astro x reader fluff drabble!! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

Writing this made me realize just how hard it is for me to write something 100% fluffy. Hoping it's fluffy enough.

KISSES FOR THE HEART

Pairing: (Twisted) Astro x reader

Relationship: romantic

Warning: he's a little worried but you're quick to soothe him

Type: drabble (I accidently wrote a little more then what's expected for a drabble)

"Astro, I know you're worried, but... I got this." There was a strain in your voice, Your words a muted whisper as ichor flows through the tubes and into the machine in front of you. You had been extraching for hours. Every new machine you'd come across on each floor slowing down your pace much more than you were prepared for.

"Be careful... Too loud.." Each word he spoke ended with a sound almost akin to that of gargling. The ichor stuck in his throat making it harder for him to tell voice his worries. And so, his sentences were often too short. In worse cases, he sounded incoherent. His body was hovering just beside you, his gaze switching from corridor to corridor as he kept his two top hands in a continuous fidgeting motion.

You knew he was talking about the sound that would occur if you failed. Ever since you had found yourself on this floor, Astro had seemed to follow you around like a lost dog. He was never farther than two feet away, and even when you needed the room, he would still stay planted in your presence. Each machine you worked on, he'd give you the same warning.

Soon, the ichor had filled the machine completely. The black substance stuffed it until there was no room for even the smallest pocket of air. And, once your hands removed themselves from the red valve, the warmth returning to your fingertips, you turned back to face him.

You wasted no time letting your palms cradle the sides of his face. The stream of ichor streaming down onto you and staining your hands with its tar-like substance. He almost flinched under your touch. His body twitching slightly, freezing under your touch before relaxing. Despite how slow your movement was, it didn't take long before you were guiding his face down.

With how tall the ichor had morphed him, your lips were able to plant themselves onto his as easily as you were used to. Yet, even now, you still found ways to kiss him. And, now that you had pulled him down a bit, you quickly stood on your toes and pressed your mouth against his forehead.

"You need to stop being so worried. As long as you're here, nothing will hurt me."

[ruinix]

Beers and Kisses

Foreword: After you dared Quinn to shotgun a beer and discovering that he can actually do it, he makes you do the same.

Note: We’re picking off where we left off.  This is officially part 2, meaning Part 1 (500 words) is a MUST read for a full experience, but if you don't want to read it, then you are free to do so 🫡. This is still in reader's POV. <- Previous (Part 1: Beers and Dares)

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Alcohol Consumption (heavy on this), Unprotected Sex (protection, sillies), Drunk sex (not really but they’re tipsy for sure), Semi-Public sex, Praise Kink

Word: 2645 words | Masterlist | Taglist

Your nerves are on fire because Quinn taunted you. It’s supposed to be you who’ll do that to him. Well, you didn’t even taunt him. You just made him do it with a small bribe, your puppy eyes, which you know he likes. So, taunting you is annoying. Extremely.

“I bet you can’t,” he fucking said with that hot and beautiful smirk of his. If he’s going to taunt you, he should not look hot. The audacity.

Now, you feel his eyes following you while you stomp your way to the fridge. Shivers run down your spine from heavy and burning attention.

Peeking over your shoulder, you find him still leaning on the railing, but now his back is towards it and with his arms crossed over his chest. His chin is tipped down. His hair moves with the slight gust of wind. The lights you’ve placed on the balcony—actually, Quinn set them up for you—casts a warm glow on his skin, creating shadows that only emphasizes his features. Like his cheekbones, his jaw, the muscles on his neck, and his chest.

You can barely see the shine of beer trail that he still hasn’t wiped away, but you see it and it’s trouble. Why is he not wiping it away? If he won’t, you’ll clean it for him with your tongue—

Then he licks his plump bottom lip.

Wow.

Your head is a mess, short-circuiting the moment he grins, one corner of his lips slightly higher than the other. Such a devastating smile.

What are you doing again?

Oh yes, beer.

You huff, exaggeratedly rolling your eyes—making sure he sees it—before you turn away to get the damn beer. You hear his laugh. Despite being annoyed with him, you smile. You love his laugh. It’s one of the pure things you have ever heard.

It feels good to make him laugh.

It takes all of you not to look back. You’ll have to brave his teasing if you do. You can’t do that. You’re proving a point. Snatching the remaining three cans, which are yours that you keep neglecting to drink. You don’t necessarily like beer. You just bought a six pack one time, and it has been sitting for quite a while. Plus, Quinn doesn’t technically drink anymore, but he does from time to time, especially if you offer him to. Every time. He accepts what you offer, making your heart flutter in your chest. He just effortlessly makes you fall in love with him more and more.

You rush to the balcony, only to pause at the threshold, because Quinn is rolling his sleeves, exposing his hairy and lean forearms. Seriously, does he want you to jump him?

“What are you doing?” you ask in a panic.

“The wind feels nice.” His raspy voice sounds lower. Then he undoes the second button of his shirt, exposing more of his pale skin and his chest. Then another. Holy shit.

Your lips part as you long to touch him. Your legs feel like jelly. Your hands are shaking, so you set the cans down on a table. Biting your lip, you try to control your breathing.

He tilts his head a tad, looking at your eyes, down your lips, then back up. How can somebody be so breathtaking? His eyes look at the beer. A small and deep chuckle escapes him, sounding like a lure to your soul.

He says, “That’s cute. You got extra in case you fail?”

He is fucking with you. Isn’t he? But you don’t care anymore. He can tease you all he wants, and you’ll take it. You’ve been taking anything he gives you, especially in bed or the counter or—

Quinn dangles his key over your head. He’s so close that he might be in the inevitable splash zone, because sure, you’ll prove him wrong. You do know how shotgun a beer, but you’re not great with it. Not at all. Maybe you should’ve just made him flip a water bottle instead.

“What are you waiting for, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. Fucking hell.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you offer him your palm. He’s smiling again. Both lips and eyes turn into crescents. Softly, he places his keys on your hand, deliberately touching the skin of your palm. Then he traces his fingers to your wrist, up your forearm, your shoulders. He gives you a firm squeeze before he slides them down the column of your back. He, then, steps back like he didn’t just ignite your blood.

So, you huff. Your cheeks burn as much as your whole body. It’s all because of Quinn. It’s always him.

Taking a deep breath, your hands shaking, you punch a hole into the can. The beer splashes your face and shirt before you take it up your lips. Your attempt is so clumsy compared to Quinn’s, but you do your best. You gulp the bittersweet carbonated liquid without looking at Quinn, because you will choke if you do.

Probably halfway through the can, he crowds you, gripping your hips. That made you look at him. Your mouth fills up as you forget to swallow. How can you when his thumbs slip under your shirt? He pulls you in with an effortless tug, reminding you of his strength, not minding the spilling liquid.

He’s hard. So fucking hard.

And you’re drenching your panties.

Fuck.

Gosh, you hate beer—

Then everything happens all at once.

He fluidly takes over, drinking the beer for you. Once more, you are mesmerized with him. You only remember to swallow the beer in your mouth when his hand reaches your bra. You shiver, feeling so weak. You pant as beer slides down his throat again. You have enough. No more just watching.

You lick the trail; your soft and wet tongue catches the drips.

The feel of his skin, of his Adam’s apple as he gulps, of the rumble when he groans is divine.

You moan at the taste of Quinn mixing with the beer, at his scent, at his short nails scratching softly on your spine like he’s encouraging you to take and do more. And more.  

So you do.

You lick up his chin, shuddering at the feel of his scruff on your tongue. You’re directly catching everything he spills and it’s turning you on. Your pussy aches. This isn’t enough. You want more. More of his taste with the fucking beer.

Maybe you like beer after all.

When he finishes the can, he drops it and stares at you, panting, but you’re already there. You lick along the seam of lips. You whine at how soft they are—making him use a lip mask and lip balms have taken fruit. The taste of him. It’s all Quinn. He’s letting you do this and it’s doing it for you. You’re so turned on. When you finally kiss him, he instantly reciprocates. His tongue moves with yours, tasting you too.

Oh. You love him so much that it hurts.

Deep, deep inside.

You whimper, conveying your need. You blindly reach for another can. “More?”

He hums into your lips, his free hand finding your cheek first before taking the can. He gives you one last kiss on the lips. “You drink it first,” he bargains, backing you up until you reach the railings, one leg pushing between yours. “Just like the last.”

“Okay,” you breathlessly say, nodding.

“I’ll hold it.”

“Sure, Q.” You do as he says. Using his key again, creating a mess between you two, he holds the can to your lips, and you drink. Your eyes water. Frustration builds. It’s not the same.

Until Quinn starts to shower you the same treatment you’ve done to him.

His tongue creates a trail of fire that shoots straight to your pussy. You are burning. You ache. Every lick. Every nip. Your head swims from his touch and the beer. You feel light and so fucking horny. You grind against his thigh.

That’s all it takes to turn the bittersweet liquid taste like the sweetest thing in the whole world.

“Tastes so fucking good, my Love, my sweet girl,” he praises. He takes the beer to his lips and drinks but not really.  He’s basically letting the beer fall down the corner of his lips. His eyes are telling you, “All for you.”

Grabbing onto his shoulders, you feast on his skin. Maybe you can just drink anything from his skin. Will Quinn let you do that? He’s already doing it with beer. Can you ask for more—

He tugs you back by your hair, his fingers tangling on the roots. What the fuck!

“Quinn,” you whine. “That’s so mean.”

His lips smirk as he draws the last mouthful of beer. The can hits the floor in a clank. To cope, you stare at his throat, wishing to lick it when he gulps, but he doesn’t. He grabs the back of your neck, making you gasp, as he smashes your lips together, transferring the beer to your mouth.

He just did that.

He did.

Quinn Hughes just made you drink from his mouth.

You love every second of it.

“Swallow it. That’s it. That’s my good girl,” he breathes out, making you squeeze your legs and trapping his. “How’s that?” he asks, nipping your lips, as you stare dumbly at him. His hand frees your hair and slides into your pants, into your panties. He groans, sliding his finger along your slick pussy. “So wet.”

“We’re outside,” you say while you grind shamelessly into his touch, unbuttoning his shirt until it’s fully open. You chase after every stroke. He feels so good. You can feel your arousal dripping down your cunt. You dig your nails into his waist. “You’re so hot.”

“Hmm,” he hums. “You’re hot.” His finger teases your pussy, dipping and stretching you. Both of you groan when you squeeze around his fingers. “Wanna fuck you right here.”

“Then do it.”

His pupils almost swallow his irises. The rumble of a growl escapes his throat. The next thing you know is both of your pants are off. One of your legs is over his hip. After he slaps his cock against your aching clit, he sinks into your pussy so smoothly, so easily. The stretch of him makes you roll your eyes, moaning so loudly.

None of you seem to care about the high drop from the balcony—you trust him. Or about the possibility of being seen—they better watch or close their fucking eyes.

None of those matters.

Not when he’s fucking you with a fucked-out expression that’s just for you.

“I love you,” Quinn moan, kissing you as deeply as his thrusts. “You feel divine, my Love.”

Your name spills his lips over and over again. You cling onto his shoulders, your hips moving in a circle that had you both quivering in need, each of your thrust turning choppy and more desperate. His hand goes under your thigh and lifts it so both of your legs are wrapped around him, so you’re all so fucking spread, your arousal drips around his cock, making the lewd sounds of skin slapping louder and louder.

“Quinn,” you whine, biting down on his lip.  You sob, “Faster. More. Please. I’m so close. I need to come.”

“I know,” he consoles, changing up the angle of his thrust, perfectly hitting your sensitive spot. “I have you.”

“Mmfuck,” you pant. Your orgasm builds and builds, your thighs quivering and shaking around him. You seek support using his skin, marking his back with your scratches. You suck and kiss and lick a spot just underneath his jaw, totally marking him as your own.  “Please, please.”

“Just let go, my Love.” His hand slides between you two and finds your clit. “Come for me.”

He gives it a firm flick and you’re gone. You walls shakes and squeezes around him, your eyes rolling up, as he rides out your orgasm. Fuck, he truly knows how to work you.

When his lips capture yours, his cock still pounding and grinding in that sensitive spot that has every nerve in your body into a haywire. You desperately grip him, too scared at how much higher your pleasure is climbing. You want to run away but you also don’t. You want him to continue until you’re fucked dumb. Like always.

Quinn is saying something but you can’t focus. You feel like you are breaking piece by piece while at the same time being built. It feels like your heart will explode as the pressure deep inside your cunt exponentially increases. You’re fucking losing it.

His hand tips your chin up, forcing you to look at him. He asks, voice dropping further, “Where do you want me?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions, Quinn,”you grit.

Again, he smirks. He flicks your clit again, making you whimper. “Still so bratty. I know you’re going to come again. It would be bad for you when I stop.”

“No, Q.” You shake your head, pleading against his skin. He chuckles which makes you desperate for his cum. You can feel his cock throb. You know he’s pulling himself back to make you go insane. He always does that. “Inside. I want your cum in my pussy. You said, you have me. Please.”

He doesn’t say anything and only kisses you until you come so hard that you are gushing, making a total mess, until he comes and paints your walls with his hot cum. Every spurt is making you sigh into his mouth before he decides to press gentle kisses all over your face, licking a few beads of sweat on your skin. You preen, leaning all your weight against him.

Your body feels so satiated with his cock still seated inside you, not letting his cum to spill.

Your soul feels so warm and fuzzy for touch of his lips.

Your heart beats with his. Thud. Thud. Thud.

“Do you want to finish the last beer?” He asks so quietly as he lifts you.

You shake your head, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He takes you and lies you down on the sofa. You hiss as he slides out, his cum dripping from your sensitive entrance, down your other hole, down the sofa. Fuck, you’re going to stain the sofa. Again. Whatever. You’ll make him clean it. It’s his mess.

You watch him put his full attention on your pussy, watch him lick his lips, watch him grip his cock as it twitches. You realize how flush his cheeks are. Not just from fucking you. It’s also from the beer. You know, because that’s a drunken blush. Is he drunk? It can’t be.

“Are you drunk?” You ask, lifting your shirt up so he sees all of you.

His light eyes shoot straight to yours. He lets a second pass before he says, “No.” He for sure is. “Just a bit.”He frowns deep in his thoughts, his eyes getting drawn to your breasts. “Are you?”

“No,” you repeat, smiling and biting your lower lip, “Just a bit.”

Quinn laughs which makes you giggle. You spend a couple of minutes just laughing at your current state. A bit tipsy. Extremely fucked. The thought of it makes you laugh harder. No way, you two just got drunk on what one full can for him plus two beers shared between you. No way.

“This is fun,” he chuckles, climbing over you, slipping his cock in your pussy.

“Quinn. I’m sensitive.” You huff, shivering when he slides his hands under you so he can unclasp your bra.

He helps you out of your shirt so he can cuddle you like that.

“I know…let’s just stay like this,” he says in a silent whisper. “Promise.”

You know that’s a fucking lie.

<- Previous (Part 1: Beers and Dares)

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[rainychaoloveshack]

Suggestive Boom!Sonic one shot cause hes so flirty and so silly? ty!!!

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ .  𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐱𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐠.

sonic likes relaxing with you. alone.

content (16+). boom!sonic x gn!reader, suggestive!!!, kinda needy sonic, teasing-like relationship, stupid idiot definitely loves flirting with you, bunch of kisses… and licks. 

☂︎ wc. around 900 ☂︎ a/n. i was feelin a bit… devilish this one 😈 (the post write clarity hit hard.) HAHAHA i hope i did your request justice anon! first time writing smth like this… i tried to keep it at least 16+ (as per my comfortability with writing spice), but mightve leaned more into rated M, my fault ^^’

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

“Hey, you know everyone already left, right?” That familiar blue blur the village knows and loves comes through the doorway, crossing his arms and leaning against the sofa as he looks you up and down, obviously skeptical about your continued presence in the hut. “What’cha still doing here? I thought Sticks was really urging you to go.”

You shrug your shoulders, letting a yawn slip out as you wave him off, shutting your eyes as the hammock swings gently at your movement. A nice, sundown nap is in order.

“You didn’t feel like going with them?” You don’t bother opening your eyes, but give him a curt nod as you feel his presence beside you, hearing the tapping of his foot against the hard, wooden floor. “Well, why don’t you just come with me then? I’m about to run a couple laps to and back from the beach.” 

Booooringgg. You click your tongue in disapproval, but open up an eye to peek at him, curious about the fact that he invited you to hang out with him in the first place. Usually he’d just bug Tails about things like that, or challenge Knuckles to a couple rounds of golf. Well, maybe you’re just a last resort, considering the fact that you’re the only one here…

“That doesn’t interest you either, huh?” Sonic tilts his head, his ear twitching at your silent agreement with a nod. Words aren’t even necessary. No point in wasting your breath on them.

He pouts, staring at you silently putting his gloved hands right on his hips, cocking his head to the other side as his foot keeps on tapping on the floor. After a few beats of silence, he nudges you in an annoying manner, causing you to let a small curse slip between your lips as you gaze up at him.

“Alright, scoot over.”

What?

Sonic grins as he shakes the hammock, forcing a yelp through your lungs as he urges you to make way for him, climbing inside the hammock to snuggle against you before you can even utter a refusal. Idiot.

He chuckles, a cheeky, clearly amused grin on his face as he presses his cheek against yours, a soft purr rumbling from within his chest as his playful demeanor falters for a moment, enjoying the warmth emitting from your body. If you weren't so bugged out with him currently, you would’ve teased him for his animalistic behavior, but the thought slipped out of your mind the second it entered once you feel another purr ring from him. Lucky bastard.

You scowl, nudging him away from you. You were having a nice, relaxing time, and then all of a sudden he wants to butt in like this?

“Oh, what?” Sonic grins at you, relishing in your embarrassed expression. “You’re acting like you don’t like it. I know you do.” Your scowl doesn’t falter with his statement. And what brings him to that assumption?

“Cause if you didn’t, you could’ve pushed me outta here already.” Sonic murmurs, that stupid sly grin popping back on his face as he straddles over your figure, before you can utter a protest to his statement, and he leans down to kiss your neck, letting his tongue lap up the spot briefly, before leaning more towards the right to suck gently, nipping at it with his teeth.

Oh. 

You flinch at the wet feeling plastered on your neck, but soon settle down, stifling back a groan as he draws his tongue across your jawline, leaning so close to your face that your lips briefly touch against each other.

“You didn't need to go with the others anyway.” He says, a small growl behind his words. “It’s more fun with me, yeah?” Sonic groans at his own impatience, leaning in as soon as he finishes his sentence, running his tongue against the tip of your fang with a small growl following afterward, pleased at your reaction to his advance once you reach your hand over to hold his, intertwining your fingers with his as he pins it down to the hammock.

Suddenly, Sonic angrily nips at your bottom lip, almost begging for your tongue to make contact with his, and you comply with his begging as he whines softly in the kiss, clearly happy with your decision, though he’ll never say it out loud. His ego’s much too big for something like that, but displaying his affections for you in a hut where anyone from the group could walk in is just fine. Hmm.

The kiss is cut short as Sonic breaks away, panting softly above you and chuckling softly. “Sorry. I dunno what’s up with me today…” Maybe some self-evaluation would do him some good.

… Who’re you kidding? You know you don’t care.

Sonic’s soft breathing mixes with yours, along with his soft kisses against your cheek, shifting slightly on top of you as his leg straddles your body, cuddling and bringing you closer. 

What a loser.

You groan in a fake annoyed tone, muttering curses towards him as he laughs beside you, yet you snuggle closer to his chest and those curses turn into gentle kisses leading up his chest, tugging away his brown bandana with your teeth, and you relish in the sound of Sonic’s laughs cut short, and his breath hitching in his throat, his hand resting itself on your hips before making its way up your own torso, 

Eh. This isn’t so bad. You should stay back and just relax in Sonic’s Hut more often. Alone.

Yeah…

(i was actually gonna post this last night but tumblr was being bad >:[ its alright lol)

[silentsamlikesham]

Cat Got Your Tongue? - Zosan Temp!Mute Fic

Thank you to @gingeralejasminetea for the following prompt "sanji or zoro somehow becomes temporarily mute and the other just *happens* to be the only one on the crew that’s able to completely accurately interpret their facial expressions/gestures, leading them to be their translator until their voice comes back" I'm not going to lie I did STRUGGLE with having only one of these idiots being able to speak. I made the brave decision to have Sanji lose the ability to talk and like- Zoro is a man of few words :'D. I'm not fully satisified with the ending to this fic, so maybe someday (not soon) I mayyy write a part 2, we'll see. OKAY ENJOY!! **Not Beta Read. Please excuse any and all mistakes**

Words: 4,350

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Sanji tugged at his red checkered scarf, glaring at the faux grass on the Sunny’s deck as he listened to their tiny doctor finish his explanation to the crew. Chopper had gathered the crew to the deck after finishing his check-up on Sanji after the crew’s last fight. The air was tense from the fury radiating from the chef and he couldn’t bring himself to look at either of the crew’s two fabulous ladies to cheer him up, lest he’s met with eyes of pity.  

It was a burst of laughter that broke the silence, the sound reddening Sanji’s face as he turned to glare at the source. Of course, it was the mosshead doubled over the railing, tears streaming down his face as he laughed at Sanji’s expense.  

“Zoro!” Chopper chastised, as Nami slapped the swordsman on the arm.  

Luffy also began to chuckle from where he was perched under the ship’s mast, Sanji slowly dragged his gaze from Zoro to his captain.  

“Sanji, you can still cook meat, right?” Luffy smiled, wide and unapologetic.  

The chef nodded his head slowly, confused by the question before he had an armful of his captain to catch as Luffy catapulted himself straight into him. His stretching arms wrapping tightly around Sanji, but careful not to wring around his neck.  

“Then let’s have a barbeque!” Luffy decided, the crew laughing and cheering as the mood on the ship changed back to its usual chaotic state. 

“Luffy! Don’t squeeze his chest, coughing will be just as bad as talking for his throat.” Chopper wailed, pulling at his Captains foot until Luffy let go of Sanji, unraveling until he snapped back onto the deck.  

“Sorry Chopper.” Luffy smiled, not looking the least bit apologetic.  

“Does that mean dart-brows can’t smoke, Chopper? I bet that would really slow down the healing process.” Zoro grins, reveling in the look of horror creeping across the cook’s face, slowly twisting into rage as he began marching towards Zoro, his foot already smoking.  

The swordsman grinned, his hand going to his nearest hilt as Chopper dived between them.  

“NO!” The little reindeer cried out, tears forming in his eyes as he looked between the two of them, knowing the danger of getting in front of either of them when they were about to spar.  

  “No fighting!” Chopper did his best to keep a wobble out of his voice, relaxing a bit as the two, unwillingly, relaxed their fighting stances. “-and, no smoking.” 

Sanji waved his hands around in frustration, pleading with the tiny doctor with his eyes before running a finger across his neck at Zoro to let him know that the swordsman is dead as soon as he recovers.  

“Sanji, your throat is really swollen...there’s nothing I can do but tell you to rest it.” Chopper bites his lower lip as it trembles, his voice cracking like he’s about to cry. “Please, just a few days, no smoking, no talking, and-” The small doctor turns to meet Zoro’s eye as he finishes “-no fighting. Okay?” 

Sanji looks briefly to the sky, searching the clouds for some strength before he nods at Chopper.  

“Whatever.” Zoro yawns, over the whole thing as he realises there’s no more fun to be had. “Not like Curly-brows ever has much to say anyways.” 

Sanji’s hands curl into fists as Zoro walks by him, flashing him a shit-eating grin as he knows Sanji can’t bite back with his usual banter and shitty nickname.  

“You’ll heal fast, Sanji.” The cook looks down at where Chopper had stopped beside him, looking up at him with his wide eyes and child-like face. “And I’ll check on you every day, so you’ll know when it’s over!” 

Sanji lets out a small sigh through his nose, wanting so badly to comfort the little doctor and tell him ‘I know Chopper, you’ve done all you can.’ Instead, all he can do is pat Chopper’s hat and motion for him to follow Sanji into the kitchen. He can’t comfort the doctor with words, but he can give him some chocolate instead.  

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Sanji was doing his usual lunch time rounds, dropping drinks and nibbles in front of his different crew mates. He spun out of the kitchen with his customary enthusiasm and excitement. At the last island they’d stocked up on, he’d managed to pick up some local honey and he had spent the afternoon making sweet protein balls out of it, mixing the honey with oats and some with chocolate.  

He skipped over to the ladies first. Robin hiding beneath the cover of an umbrella while Nami lay out in the sun, tanning beneath the relentless rays, her skin sparkling from the sunscreen she’d lathered on her skin.  

Sanji was swooning from the sight alone. His throat was aching, twitching as he blew a heavy breath from his lungs, longing to serenade the ladies with an onslaught of compliments and small talk.  

Instead, as he approached the ladies with his usual twirling and dancing, he could hear the familiar sounds of sniggering and noticed Usopp, Luffy and Chopper hiding nearby. 

“Ooooh Nami-Swannn your skin is as radiant as the sun, let me refresh you with the coolest of drinks and the most divine snacks the new world has ever seen.” Usopp did a terrible impression of Sanji, pretending to hold a cigarette in his fingers as he spoke.  

The impression had Luffy and Chopper cackling and rolling on the floor as Sanji sent daggers through his eyes at them. Robin chuckled at the sight, leaving Sanji deflated and flustered as he left her drink and nibbles in front of her. She smiled up at him though, thanking him with a warm look in her eyes. It was enough to easily snap Sanji back from his mood and had him twirling around Nami again.  

He managed to make his way over to Usopp while the sharpshooter had his back to him, continuing his poor imitation. Sanji felt marginally better as he got to kick the sniper in the back of the head, sending Luffy and Chopper running in fear and leaving Usopp groaning and overreacting on the ground.  

He didn’t even kick him that hard, but still Usopp cried up at him and clung to his leg, begging him to stop.  

Sanji tried to shake him off, anxiously glancing at the tray of food and drink as Usopp unbalanced him, dragging him left and right. Sanji didn’t easily drop a tray, and Usopp wasn’t that strong, but fear made the sniper erratic, and Sanji would probably cry in frustration if his shitty situation with his throat led to any food waste. 

“Oi, Usopp, knock it off. Curly’s gonna kill you if he drops that tray.”  

Sanji froze at the words, startled that he was hearing his thoughts spoken aloud.  

He glanced over to the swordsman leaning against the mast, he’d been convinced Zoro had been asleep in the shade. But now the mosshead was watching the pair through his one eye, the gaze feeling more intense and violating than usual. 

Usopp squeaked in response, throwing himself off Sanji and scampering several feet back from him. Sanji frowned, glaring at Zoro who held his gaze for a mere second before he shut his eye again. Sanji wasn’t used to losing Zoro’s attention so quickly, usually the pair would be foot to blade by now. Even if Zoro had just helped him out, he would have told the Mossball to shut it and keep out of his business and they’d be several bruises deep into an argument by now. 

Instead, Sanji had to swallow the comeback he couldn’t speak and continue upon his deliveries. He handed Usopp his drink with a cold glare, earning himself an apology and flurry of excuses before Usopp insisted on helping him hand the rest out.  

He served Zoro last, as usual, and the idiot must have been using his haki because he didn’t wait for a kick to the head to wake him up. His eye opened as Sanji got close, the distance at which Sanji would have usually insulted him and called him a name to get his attention. Zoro put a hand out for his drink without being asked and accepted his plate of blander, unsweetened protein balls without a word. 

Sanji stared at him, resisting the urge to bite his lower lip in thought as Zoro eventually gave him another glance.  

“What, Curly? Cat got your tongue?” 

Sanji’s frown deepened, his brows knitting together before he let out a tsk and stomped towards the galley. Once inside, he fiddled with the scarf around his neck, loosening it and letting the fabric fall into a long loop. He looked at the dark line of bruises in the reflection of a hanging pan above the stove, willing the purple and blue skin to heal.  

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It was day three of Sanji’s induced muteness and he felt like he was really starting to lose his mind. He’d never appreciated how often he used his words to convey things, to join in on the fun around the ship and to stand up for himself.  

The last three days had felt like a comical silent movie, chasing Luffy around the ship when he snuck into the galley, rolling his eyes at his ship mates annoying antics and last night, having to throw Usopp from his bed to wake him up to dispose of a spider in the bunk room.  

It was infuriating, it was tiring, and Sanji could feel a headache pulsing behind his eyes from the toll it was all taking. On top of the muteness his sore throat was making it difficult to drink, to sleep, to eat. Pain, Sanji could tolerate, but the hunger pangs he was feeling in his stomach were unnerving.  

Needless to say, Sanji was on edge. In fact, he was beyond the edge. He was clinging onto his sanity by his fingernails and right now, his current predicament might just be the final straw.  

If Sanji cries in the galley because he can’t find the knife Zeff gave him, the one he uses every day, the one that is basically an extension of his hands, then he might just throw himself off the side of the ship.  

He was staring at the kitchen island like he was going mad. His hands moving over the cold marble and brushing over the vegetables that were waiting there to be chopped. 

He’d just had it. How could a knife grow legs and walk away? He started lifting any plates and tea towels around him, sure he must have thrown them on top of it by mistake.  

A hand curled into his fringe, pulling slightly as Sanji let out a huff of pain. He needed a smoke, he needed a cigarette so badly, but he refused to make the healing process go any slower. There was no way he was going through this for more than a few days.  

Right as he was about to bang his head off the marble, someone spoke up from the corner of the room. Sanji flushed red as he jumped, he’d been so engrossed in his search and his poor mood that he hadn’t noticed the Mossball slide onto the couch the far side of the dining table. 

“It’s by the sink, Cook.” Zoro scoffed, folding his arms and tucking his chin against his chest, clearly about to nod off for a nap. He doesn’t usually do so in the galley but one glance at the falling mist of rain outside, and it made sense.  

Sanji stared dumbly at Zoro for a moment. What was the idiot talking about? Beside the sink? He turned his head, his eyes catching the glint of steel as his knife lay just beside the drying rack. He must have left it there when he threw the pans into the sink to soak.  

He looked back to Zoro with a raised brow and a wide eye. How the fuck did he know he was looking for his knife?  

But Sanji couldn’t ask and from the soft snores filling the galley, Zoro wouldn’t have replied anyways.  

Sanji picked up his knife, spinning it gently in his hand as he fiddled with the handle. He chopped up the vegetables in his usual rhythmic routine, but every time he scooped his prep into a bowl, he snuck a glance at the swordsman.  

Since when was Zoro a mind reader? 

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By the fifth day, Sanji felt like he was really going insane. No longer because he still couldn’t speak or smoke, but because Zoro was creeping him out. Every time they were in the same room Zoro was making small jabs and comments to Sanji that were almost perfectly in line with the running monologue in Sanji’s head. 

It was unnerving to see the Mosshead so aware of someone else. Usually, Zoro brooded in the corner, unmoving in his preference to exclude himself from most shenanigans and conversations on the ship. Now, Sanji was starting to realise the Mosshead was completely aware of what was happening around him and of his crewmate’s thoughts. At least, he seemed to know exactly what was going on in Sanji’s head. The cook was used to feeling that connection with the Mosshead in battle but for the day-to-day stuff, it was startling. 

The weirdest thing to happen so far, had happened today. The crew had docked at a small island, inhabited by a group that lived in a village on the southern side of the island.  

The log pose was going to take over a day to reset so Luffy had decided they should spend the evening partying on the island and spend a night at a local inn. It hadn’t been an easy thing to arrange with the lovely Nami worried about their budget, but there was no arguing with the captain when he wanted to party, and the rest of the crew were happy to get black out drunk and pass out in a bed that didn’t sway with the ocean.  

They’d gone to the nicest restaurant on the island, mainly because Zoro pointed out that Sanji had his eyes on the building from the moment they found the center of the island. 

That had been strange enough, that Zoro was actively pushing for something Sanji wanted. But the weirdest part was when they had to order. Usually, Sanji would order for most of the crew. He was easily able to tell what each of them would want most from whatever limited menu they had to order from. Tonight, Zoro hadn’t even paused after his order when he added- 

“The curly-brows wants the spicy seafood dish, and a glass of whatever wine will go with it.” 

It wasn’t as refined an answer as Sanji would have given the waitress, but it was close enough to the mark that Sanji’s jaw had unlatched as he stared dumbfounded at the brute. 

“What?” Zoro scoffed when the waitress disappeared into the kitchen, and he noticed the cook’s eyes on him.  

Sanji looked even more pissed off then, wishing more than he had this entire week that he could speak and ask the Swordsman what the fuck was going on.  

Instead, the crew interrupted them with their own chatter and chaos and Sanji was forced to sit back in silence for the following hours.  

It was only when everyone was heading towards the inn that Sanji had a moment to confront the mosshead. He fell into step with him at the back of the group as they all made their way to the inn. Zoro barely even glanced at him as they walked, and Sanji could feel the tick of annoyance on the back of his head as Zoro stayed silent for nearly the entire stroll.  

As they arrived at the inn, Sanji grabbed Zoro’s arm and physically held him back from following the crew through the main entrance,  

“What?” Zoro groaned, glancing longingly at where a bed was waiting for him. “What do you want, Cook? Not like you have anything to say.” 

Sanji continued to glare at him, his gaze hardening at the callous words.  

Zoro eventually glared back, letting out a frustrated tsk as the silence stretched on and Sanji did nothing more than angrily huff at him.  

“Look, are we going to fight and not tell Chopper or are you going to let me go the fuck to sleep?” 

Sanji’s frown deepened. Surprisingly, he hadn’t been thinking of kicking the moron. He looked away, almost embarrassed by his persistence when he knew he couldn’t voice his frustration. But eventually his glare returned to the Marimo. 

He crossed his arms across his chest and tapped his foot insistently, giving Zoro an unamused look. The Mossball just raised his brows in response, like he was egging Sanji to try speak his mind.  

“What? What do you want Cook? I’m not a mind reader.” 

Sanji groaned angrily at this, waving his arms at Zoro, trying to convey this is exactly what Sanji was trying to speak to him about.  

“What? You think I’m a mind reader?” 

Sanji just glared in silence now, pursing his lips further.  

“Is this about dinner? I should have known you’d be fucking weird about it. You order for me all the time, what’s your problem, did you not like your food?” 

Sanji sighed, running a hand through his hair and now deciding it was easier not to look at the Mosshead. He stared stubbornly at one of the lamps hanging off the wall of the inn as he tried to come up with a way to respond.  

“That’s not it...” Zoro grumbled, earning Sanji’s attention again as the Cook whipped around to look at him.  

Zoro studied him properly then, his one good eye analyzing Sanji’s body language from his feet to his face. It was intimidating, almost embarrassing to have Zoro’s eyes so intensely focused on him, inspecting every shift in Sanji’s stance and ever bounce of his brow. 

“Curly, I don’t fucking know what you’re so annoyed about. It’s not my fault you can’t speak.” Zoro sighed, looking tired all of a sudden.  

The first mate’s eyes went to Sanji’s scarf. It wasn’t an item of clothing that was remotely needed given the climate of the island, but Sanji had refused to take it off. He didn’t want his cremates staring at the dark reminder of the bruising around his crushed throat. That part, Zoro could understand. Not wanting to show a clear weakness to a crew that often relied on you. He didn’t know why the Cook was bothering him specially though, forcing him into an awkward standstill outside the inn.  

At this stage, the pair will be forced to room together, something both of them actively avoided and argued against. By now, the rest of the crew would be buried deep beneath rented duvets as they drifted off to sleep. No one would be willing to swap or listen to Zoro complain.  

Sanji sighed loudly in response, looking at Zoro with what he hoped was an exasperated expression. Then, it came to him, the one thing he never needs words for when dealing with Zoro.  

He motioned for Zoro to stand still and then made his way around the oaf. He stopped behind Zoro, facing away from the brute and leaning his back against the others. 

He can feel the muscles in Zoro’s back tense as he leans his weight against him, can hear the sharp intake of breath the Mossball draws in. Sanji raises his leg gently, the same way he would in a fight and on instinct Zoro’s hand goes to his hilts. As Sanji changes his stance and turns slightly to the right, Zoro automatically reacts, dropping a foot back to cover the left side Sanji opens. 

They continue this strange waltz for almost a minute, Sanji almost losing himself in the rhythm as he practices his fight style for the first time since the crews fight several days ago. He pushed himself with a wide arcing kick and as he drew his knee up, he rattles his lungs, forcing an unexpected haggard cough from his throat and ruining his balance as he flinched from the pain of it.   

He sways dangerously to the side, his shoulder slipping off Zoro’s and for the first time since he was a kid he feels himself falling from his stance. Before he can crumble to the ground, Zoro shifts behind him, twisting half around until a large hand wraps around Sanji’s bicep, steadying him and stopping his fall.  

Sanji blinks owlishly up at the swordsman, holding his breath as he meets a curious but annoyed stare. His face heats up and Sanji hopes the lamp light hides whatever colour is dusting his cheeks. 

Sanji doesn’t rush to fix his stance, instead he lets himself hang by Zoro’s grip and brings a finger up to poke pointedly at Zoro’s chest. This is what I’m talking about, shitty Swordsman. He tries to convey the thought in his eyes, in the way he let himself hang there, unfazed if Zoro was going to drop him. It wouldn’t be out of character for the Mosshead, but he knew Zoro would understand the significance of the moment and wouldn’t do it.  

He was proven right by Zoro grunting and averting his gaze, a faint blush on his cheeks now complimenting Sanji’s own. He tugged at Sanji’s arm and eventually pulled the Cook to stand upright again, dropping his arm like it burned.  

“Cook.” Zoro sighed tiredly, wiping a hand over his face and pushing his knuckles against his eyelids in the hope of focusing his mind a bit. “Are you freaking out because I can read you like an open book?” 

Sanji snorted at the phrase, crossing his arms tightly across his chest in distress. Zoro could not read him like a book, Sanji was not that straight forward a man. Zoro clearly was just...just...fuck, what was Zoro doing? 

“Curly, you’re not fucking subtle. You express every little emotion in that frantic head of yours the second you think or feel anything.” 

Sanji scoffs in disagreement, his eyes narrowing at Zoro’s words as he fiddles uncomfortably with a thread on his suit’s sleeve. The Swordsman was talking nonsense. 

“Like right now, you act like you don’t believe a word I’m saying but you’re ripping your sleeve apart because you know I’m right and that makes you freak out and fidget with the nearest thing possible.” 

Zoro takes a step closer to Sanji then. His words force Sanji to drop his sleeve and rest his hands by his side, his fingers twitching at the loss. He glares up at the ever so slightly taller man and meet’s his eye without hesitation. Their chests are almost touching, their foreheads inches from one another and Sanji is swallowing every bit of panic swelling in his chest because if he backs down from Zoro now, then it’s going to seem like Zoro is right. 

Which he’s not. He’s not freaking out over what Zoro is saying. There’s no way it’s true, Sanji may have his heart on his sleeve for the ladies but otherwise he’s a secretive guy. He’s hidden his upbringing from the crew, hiding his surname from the entire world, fooling even those who print the bounty posters. He’d lied effortlessly in the past, getting the crew out of some tough spots. Sanji was clever, he could be sly, secretive, a mystery.  

No one knew what was going on in his head. They might think they do but no one could guess what he was really thinking most of the time. Except apparently, Zoro could. Zoro who hated Sanji most days and who he had thought only understood him when Sanji’s shoe was buried in the side of his head.  

“You can deny it all you’d like, Sanji.” Sanji choked on his own spit, coughing brutally as Zoro just grinned, leaning in closer as he reveled in catching the Cook further off guard. 

“But I see you. I see right through the bullshit.”  

With that, Zoro flashed him a chesire grin, ruffled a hand through Sanji’s hair and brushed past the red-faced cook without another glance.  

“Don’t wake me up when you come into the room, or I’ll skewer you.” 

The sound of the inn door opening and closing echoed through the empty street. Sanji stayed standing in the center of the cobblestone lane, trying to catch his breath after his mini coughing fit and doing his best to will the flush from his face.  

Maybe he could blame that part on the alcohol.  

I see you.  

Sanji groaned, grabbing a fistful of his hair as he doubled over on the street. What the fuck did that mean? Also, using his real name like that? The bastard had to have known that would get to him.  

What an asshole. There’s no way Zoro was intelligent enough to understand a fraction of how Sanji felt or thought about things. He was just getting lucky and using the coincidence to rile the cook up. You can deny it all you’d like- That fucking smug- Sanji wished he could scream at the twinkling stars above. 

Sanji spent far too long loitering in the street before he could force himself to march into the inn and face sharing a room with the guy. Hopefully, he was asleep by now, and Sanji knew for a fact he’d be gone long before the oaf woke up in the morning.  

He decided the next time he was willing to face the Swordsman, was when he could speak again. Then he could give the asshole a piece of his mind, put the brute in his place and let him know just how wrong he was about everything.  

That, or he could just smother him in his sleep.  

That would be easier than admitting to himself that his entire perception of the brute had been flipped on its head tonight.  

[brucie-baby]

if you post ai-generated fanfics, it's important that you know i immediately assume you're untalented with no imagination. it doesn't matter if you think your writing will be bad. write it anyway. post it anyway. at least it'll be yours. you are so scared of mediocrity that you willingly live in the shadow of a fucking machine and that could never be me.

[yuroomii]

dirk and john interaction woahaogg

[glorysbox]

syzoth x afab!reader no pronouns

wc: 0.7k

warnings: explicitly 18+, porn without plot, subby syzoth, soft top syzoth, drabble

Syzoth is cold.

But you. You’re warm.

It’s one of the most distinguishable traits about Zaterrans. They’re reptiles. Cold-blooded. Which means that they have to seek warmth in other ways. Most opt for warm clothes. Others choose to stay by a fire. Syzoth, though, prefers to be warmed by you.

You’re his favorite warm-blood. He loves burying his face in the crook of your neck—wrapping his arms around you as tight as you can handle and basking in the warmth of your skin. He savors it, in fact; skin to skin contact with you is something he’d do all day if he had no responsibilities. It’s number two on his list of favorite things to do with you.

Number one, though…

“So… warm.” Syzoth’s words come out as a hiss, his face wedged in the crook of your neck—inhaling your scent—as the head of his cock spreads you open. His arms are wrapped tightly around you; serving as a way to keep you in place while simultaneously siphoning the heat that radiates from your body. Syzoth's body weight is nearly fully pressed onto you—sealing your fate under him. It's not as if you'd want to be anywhere else.

The artificial warmth of clothing is nothing compared to being stuffed so deeply inside of you.

Your thighs are clenched tightly around his waist, leaving little to no distance between the both of you; Syzoth's arms locked around you and his cock buried deep inside of you—to the hilt—being enough evidence of your closeness. You can feel him shudder on top of you, his breaths shaky as his grip around your body tightens.

"Your arms," his voice is hoarse as he mutters in your ear, "Your arms—wrap them around me. Please." And you do. You wrap your arms around him, offering some more of the warmth that he's constantly clamoring for.

Syzoth is greedy. It's never enough for him; he needs all of your heat and he needs to feel all of you. The feeling of your soft skin wrapped around him leaves him hissing once more; his grip on you tightening—leaving finger-shaped indents where he grasps so tightly on your warm flesh. Your body is on fire under him, serving only to make him more needy for your heat. He doesn't bother to reach down and rub circles on your clit, either—he can't even think straight.

Just as much as Syzoth is greedy, he is sloppy. Uncoordinated—his hips rut into you, squelching noises of your wetness drowned out by the sound of his raspy whines in your ear. It's almost instinctual, the way that he moves. His thrusting into you is messy—his hips constantly shifting and twitching and struggling to keep up the deprived pace he's set for himself. Your slickness smears all over him—his haphazard thrusts only adding to the way that it leaks out of you. Somehow—knowing that he can't even control the way that he fucks into you makes it feel better.

He fucks into you like an animal. His hips rut and twitch and Syzoth is unsure if he'd even be able to pull out—just because of how good you feel. It's like he's on autopilot; he's not even thinking, really. Just feeling.

"More. Please, I need more..." Syzoth's voice is barely audible over his loud, strained breathing. As much as he wants to look at you, he can't. His mind is so fuzzy. He can't think or concentrate on anything that's not the feeling of your tight walls clenching around him like a vice—his arms squeeze around you harder, his hips pressing inside of you as tightly and as fast as they can go.

He ruts into you, hips stuttering as he buries his face further in the crook of your neck; needy noises slipping from his lips as he continuously rolls his hips into your slick sex. Syzoth squirms on top of you—and if you weren't being fucked into so quickly and depravedly, you'd be able to feel it. Feel the way his hips twitch with each thrust inside of you; feel the way they spasm with each particularly tight squeeze around his cock.

"Please," he whines again, voice all urgent and no patient. Syzoth's tongue drags along the pulse of your neck, leaving a wet trail in it's wake. You shiver—your walls tighten around him, clinging—and he whimpers. "Please. I can't take this."

It's evident that he can't be satiated by anything but you.

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

✨ FREE CRITIQUE ✨ | EDITING SERVICE

okay so. i’m officially soft-launching my beta reader + editing service and i want to offer a few free 5-page critiques to test things out!

📂 you send me the first 5 pages of your manuscript 🖋️ i send you a 3-page feedback letter with: — analysis of voice, hook, pacing, flow — advice on revision + clarity — thoughts on your opening vibe and strength as a writer

💌 it’s free. just fill this form → right here ���� i’m only choosing a few, so if you’ve got a WIP you wanna polish, send it in!

[neon-kazoo]

Villains I dont see very often; mute. Mute villains are the best, nothing can convince me otherwise.

One idea thats been on my mind is a mute villain confessing to the hero, either through sign language, or a perfectly executed scheme. You’re choice :))

Not sure if this counts, but I ran with it. Might try this again after I gather some ASL knowledge. Hope you enjoy :)

A Silent Movie

It wasn’t exactly easy to get Hero sat in front of the cinema screen. In fact, the planning for this trap had taken over sixth months. Not to mention the money it took to buy this building off foreclosure, and the multitude of investments into Hero-proofing the location.

It was even harder to get said hero to stop yelling long enough to pay attention to the image being projected from the back of the room. Not that their sense of hearing was needed for this experience, but Villain imagined Hero would appreciate the lack of noise-based distractions, including sounds they themselves were making.

The theater was notably large, probably the most expensive showing room of its day. That is to say, the upholstery was a little outdated. The popcorn had been swept off the floor, the swirling carpet surprisingly clean. The velvet of the seats did not appear stained, and the cupholders were absent of any discarded snacks or tickets.

The glow of the emergency exit lights were the only thing illuminating the room, and they revealed a dim image of the hero situated in the center of the third row, which was optimal seating in the villain’s opinion.

Clearly, Hero did not agree, considering how hard they were pulling at the restraints to try and exit their carefully selected theater chair.

It was futile, of course, and the hero finally stopped straining when the villain appeared a row below them, quiet as a mouse, standing with a finger pressed to their lips.

Villain retreated when the hero quieted, letting their attention shift to the screen and this special showing. Images flicked past, and Hero became engrossed in the story unfolding on the screen.

Shown was a news reel Hero recognized as the time Villain had crashed their Election Day speech. A zoomed out map of the city, marking City Hall with a red square. Grainy footage of two figures dancing around next to a dumpster. Once again the map appeared, now with two squares pasted on top. The pattern continued, and Hero was amazed.

It was an agglomeration of every moment they had spent together, every public battle, every nighttime-shady-alley encounter.

There was only one reason to collect these momentos, these reminders. It had all meant something to the villain.

The complete lack of kernels on the carpet certainly pointed to a level of dedication and commitment to this scheme.

Maybe, they were hoping it meant something to the hero, too.

Another scene zoomed out a final time, revealing all the markers spread across the city. Only, now, Hero noticed, a rather distinct pattern had formed.

Villain moved like a phantom, appearing again, this time at the hero’s side. The ropes at their wrists fell away like magic while Hero gazed at the awkwardly hovering villain. They presented the hero with a glittering object hung from a chain held loose around their fingers. It was a large ruby gem, expertly cut into the shape of a 3-D heart.

Stolen, no doubt, Hero suspected possibly from the large jewelry exhibition that had just entered town.

The screen flashed bright, and lit up the hero’s face as it contorted in surprise. They processed the scene as fast as they could.

A heart of red markers, a heart of ruby, a heart fluttering in their chest, a heart laid open in front of them.

“Oh,” Hero breathed, “Oh.”

Villain sucked in a breath.

This was it, this was the moment they got rejected because they couldn’t-

“I had no idea.”

Of course they didn’t know, it’s not like Villain had ever spoken about it.

Preparing automatically for the rejection, Villain started to withdraw their hand, cold-as-steel demeanor returning to them with all the familiarity of a security blanket.

It was so stupid of them to think that they deserved any kind of reciprocation, so stupid to think that the hero could possibly-

The hero snatched the charm from their fingers before they fully withdrew.

“I didn’t say no,” they spoke softly, and the villain’s heart skipped a beat.

They reached out their other hand, wrapping their fingers over the still-outstretched hand of the villain. Instead of elaborating, Hero pulled the frozen criminal closer, connecting their lips in a gentle proclamation.

Actions spoke louder than words anyway.

[gaycragula]

Hello, hope you're having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request Ghost x assassin male reader who surprises Ghost with a sweet passionate kiss while hanging upside down?

Spider-Man Kisses

Pairing: Ghost x M!Reader Word Count: 679 Warning(s): Suggestive content, kissing, implications of a boner, descriptions of blood and gore, outright violence for the first 2 paragraphs, blood, assassin reader, assassination, graphic descriptions of blood Masterlist

Extra notes: Intended for m!reader but could be read as gn!reader. also im so sorry it took me forever to get to this </3

You let out a quiet grunt as you yanked your blade from a man’s body, pulling a handkerchief from your pocket to wipe it down. The man clawed at your boots, whatever he was trying to say coming out as gurgles as blood dripped from his mouth. You kicked his hand away, grimacing at the streak of blood he left on you. 

It wasn’t long before the sounds of him struggling stopped and you let out a breath. You removed the ring from his finger and pocketed it, evidence that he was dead. He was a high priority target, you’ll get paid nicely for the kill. 

You made your exit, quick and quiet, making use of the alleyway system to stay out of sight until you were a comfortable distance from the crime scene. Your pace slowed when you noticed a familiar figure appear ahead of you, walking in the opposite direction. 

His apartment was in that direction, you assumed that’s where he was heading. You debated for a moment whether or not to cut him off, surprise him if you will. It wasn’t often you got the chance to catch him off guard. 

It was a quick decision as you rerouted yourself to cut him off in the most convenient manner and you perched yourself atop a fire escape. Not long after, you spotted the outline of your boyfriend in the distance again. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley. 

You didn’t get to see him very often. Both your current jobs keeping you separated most days. He must’ve just gotten back that day, it was rare that he wouldn’t call when he was home. 

As he got closer, an idea popped into your head and you quickly put it into action. You hooked one leg around the railing of the fire escape, making sure it would hold your weight. You waited a little longer, listening to the sounds of his steps before you slipped yourself off the fire escape, ending up a few feet in front of him, upside down. 

“Surprise!” You smile, trusting the punch he threw out of defense would stop before it hit you. 

“Bastard,” you hear Ghost hiss out as he drops his fist. Despite the harsh name, you watched his face soften when he saw you. His usual cold demeanor warming up ever so slightly. You swear you could see a smile dance over his face for a split second before it went still again. 

You chuckle out an apology before gesturing for him to come closer. Once he was in reach, you grabbed his face gently and pulled him into a kiss that quickly turned heated. “Couldn’t help myself,” you whisper between kisses, smiling against Simon’s lips. His lips were rough, as they often were, but you couldn’t help but love the way they felt against yours. “Missed you so much.”

Ghost’s hands found your arms and he mumbled something against your lips before separating. “C’mon down.”

“Right, one moment please, my good sir,” you tease before unhooking your leg and, with the help of Ghost, getting down on the ground. 

You weren’t down for more than two seconds before Simon had you backed against a nearby wall, his lips back on yours. Your hand moved to cup his face while his moved to your waist.  Both of you were breathless when you parted, chests heaving as you looked at each other. 

Ghost leaned into you, placing his forehead on yours. You smile up at him, rubbing your thumb along his jawline before you trailed your hand into his blonde hair, brushing your fingers through it. His eyes lidded as he moved to kiss you again, his hand traveling under your shirt to sit on your waist. “Your place?” You breathe out as he separates and  leans down to kiss your neck. 

He nods against you. “Now,” the desperate tone he had mixed with the roughness of his voice had your heart skipping a beat, your pants suddenly feeling too tight as you grabbed Simon’s hand and tugged him in the direction of his apartment. 

[bad-and-drawn-that-way]

Okay, so... I had this thought earlier... but what would Vox think.. if a reader.... had a breeding kink? They get off to the idea that Vox fills them up after a hot and heavy pounding. Would something awaken in him, or would he just simply indulge in their fantasy after some thought?

My god you'd definitely awaken something in him.

That being said, if you were to start begging him to breed you in the middle of a session, it would give him just enough pause to make you wonder if you fucked up before he goes absolutely fucking feral.

If You Insist [Vox x Reader] NSFW

(NSFW writing under the cut. Minors stay away <3)

It had been a long fucking day. Vox's schedule had been booked to the second with back-to-back meetings regarding products, partnerships, and new streaming services that would be released in the upcoming year. To say he was ready to tear someone apart by the end of it all would be an understatement. Having to sit through so many boring meetings had been mind-numbingly dull and he wanted nothing more than to unwind and blow off some steam.

You were lying on the couch in his penthouse when you heard the familiar electric charge building up from one of the cameras installed in the corner. The room flashes with bright cyan light as you look up from your phone and you perk up at the sight of your favorite overlord.

"There you are," you say as you pocket your phone and get up. Your eyebrows furrow as you see the mental exhaustion clear in his expression. You open your arms and Vox groans as he falls into them, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder as he takes a deep breath.

"Long day?" You ask as you rub his back.

Vox simply grunts, his arms tightening around you. "Fucking idiots. Every last one of them, I swear."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "They can be, yeah. What can I do to help? There's still leftovers in the fridge or we could watch reruns of that shitty series you like or-"

Your trailing list of suggestions is cut off as Vox's claws dig into the back of your shirt, his hot breath fanning over the side of your neck. You shiver as he begins marking a trail of heated nips and kisses on your skin.

"T-That answers that," you sigh as you tilt your head to give him better access. After dating Vox for as long as you had been, you know better than to let him get too carried away without redirecting him to a more comfortable location. He was impatient and once he got going, he didn't tend to give much mercy or consideration to any potential aching joints after the fact.

You pull on his bow tie as you take a step back, then another. He growls as you make him follow you to the couch, his claws drifting down to your hips. You smirk as you keep ahold of the accessory and pull him down onto the couch. He straddles your lap as he hungrily presses his lips against yours.

"Coming home to this was the only thing that got me through all that bullshit," he muttered against your lips as his hands sneak under your shirt. You take the hint and help him pull off the offending garment. It gets tossed to the side and you grin as he bends down and immediately captures one of your breasts between his teeth while cupping the other.

You let out a pleased hum as your fingers find the back of his collar and dig into the fabric. "You know I'm always more than happy to help you unwind," you purr.

It wasn't long before all clothing was abandoned altogether and he had maneuvered you onto his lap while he lay on the couch beneath you. His hips stuttered against yours as you ground your slick heat against him. Every time he tried to pull you down, you smacked his hands. He growled in frustration, his claws digging into your skin hard enough to break the surface. You hiss at the pain, but grin as you look down at him and continue to tease him with your ministrations. "Patience, Vee," you chastise him.

"I've been patient," Vox growled with frustration. "All fucking day!" You had planned on teasing him for longer but were caught off guard as he flipped your positions and pinned you underneath him with a scowl.

"Vox, wait- Ah!" Your hand shoots above you, clutching onto a pillow as he slips two of his fingers into your heat. His grin is cruel as he doesn't bother taking much time before he slips in a third and moves faster.

"No, I don't think I'll be playing your games this time, Dollface," he smirks as he plunges deeper within you. He scissors his fingers and curls them cruelly as you gasp and writhe beneath him. He leans in, pressing down as he lowers his face to yours. "I'm going to do what I want to you, and you're going to let me. Isn't that right?"

You moan as he curls his fingers against your G-spot. He strokes slowly over the sensitive area with a sadistic grin. His free hand shoots out and clamps down around your throat. You gasp, clutching his wrist as he tightens his grip. "When I ask a question, you answer."

He lets you struggle for air for just a little longer, still teasing you with gentle strokes despite his cruelty before he relaxes his grip just enough for you to find your voice.

"Y-Yes," you gasp. "Whatever you want. I'll take it. I'll take it all."

"Good," Vow growled as he released you. He pulled his fingers from your needy cunt and looked at the slick collected between his fingers. "Now then," he sighed before shoving them into your mouth.

You gag as his claws press dangerously against the back of your throat. "Be good and clean up the mess you made."

Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you swirl your tongue carefully around him. His sadistic grin only grows at the sight of your pathetic obedience. "That's better," he purred as he reached down and pumped himself slowly at the sight.

He lined himself up against your entrance, rubbing the head of his cock against you teasingly as you rolled your hips against him. He groans, unable to hold himself back for much longer. "Show me," he orders.

You open your mouth, letting your tongue hang out as he retracts his clean fingers. He inspects them and nods. "Good," he says simply before his eye flashes and he shoves himself inside you without warning.

Your back arches and you let out a strangled scream as he snaps his hips into you cruelly. "Now take it all."

His claws dig into your hips as he holds them up and pounds into you mercilessly. You cry and grasp desperately at the couch beneath you as he lets out his frustrations. "That's fucking it," he groans. "You're such a perfect little fucking cocksleeve. Fuck! Your body was made for taking this dick."

You nod, babbling with tears in your eyes, "Yes, fuck, yes! I'm yours to use, all fucking yours. Please!"

Vox chuckled as his sharp, cruel thrusts slowed to a stop. You whine, feeling the desperate need in you begging to be released. "No, no, no, please don't stop!" You sob.

"I don't know," Vox smirked. "You were playing pretty damn coy earlier. I don't know if you deserve it." As much as he wanted to ruin you, he loved watching you suffer for it. For him, it was just as good as actually finishing.

You wrap your arms around his neck and roll your hips up into him desperately. "Please Vox, I'm sorry. I'll be good. I promise."

"Hmm," Vox grins as he considers it. "You promise, huh?"

You nod furiously, "Yes, yes, I promise, so please for the love of god, fuck me."

He growls as he captures your lips and starts pounding into you hard. You shake, hanging on for dear life as you moan around his tongue in your mouth. When he releases your lips, you throw your head back as you lose yourself in the bliss of it all. "Fuck, thank you, thank you, thank you," you say as you moan unabashedly.

"T-That's it," Vox said as his screen started to glitch. "There's my good fucking w̴̘͇͆͋̕̕h̷͇̦̪̺̯͋̄̂͝͠o̸̼̝̼̬͑͌͜r̵̡̻͋͛́̾è̷̹̻͎̼̹. Take it."

"Please, fuck, I'll take it, I'll take it! Fucking fill me up," you babble as the knot in your core tightens. "Pump me full of your cum. I want to take every last drop, please!"

Vox's eyes widen and he slows to a stop as he catches his breath. You whine, throwing your head back as the peak you had been so close to reaching slipped from your grasp. "Nooo, why?!"

"Did you mean that?" Vox asked, his tone unreadable and quiet.

You pant, your expression furrowing in frustrated confusion as you look up at him. "What?"

"You just-," Vox huffed, dropping his head as he continued to catch his breath. "You just fucking told me to cum inside of you, dumbass."

You blink slowly before the words of passion catch up with you. Your heart is pounding as you bring your hands up to the sides of Vox's face and lift his screen so he's looking at you.

"Vox?" you say softly as you look him deep in the eyes. "Breed me."

"Ohoho, fuck," Vox grins. You feel him twitch hard inside of you and squeal in delight as you feel him lift your legs and fold you into a mating press.

"Don't have to tell me twice," he growled with a feral grin. The familiar black rings in his eye sent a shock of excitement through you as he held you down and slowly slid back inside of your glistening cunt.

You both moan and Vox's eyes screw shut in concentration as he steadies his breathing. He crouches over you, his body pressing your legs further against your own body, and starts fucking slowly. His entire body shakes with excitement as he presses into you and holds himself for just a moment. "Just remember," he says hoarsely. "You asked for this."

His cock slid in and out of you with ease as he started his relentless assault. You moaned and babbled absolute gibberish as the obscene sounds of his grunting and balls slapping against your pussy filled the room. Every thrust felt impossibly deep as he pounded into you without restraint.

"F-Fuck," he grunted as his face started to glitch. "I'm gonna make you take every. Last. Fucking. D̴͕̂r̵̽��̛̳̺o̷̦͘p̶̢͕̈ͅ.̷̜̤͈̿̒͌"

The rekindled need inside of you snapped as you felt him shove his cock as deep in you as he could as he came with a strangled shout. He pressed you into the couch and stars exploded across your vision as you felt him pour into you until you were impossibly full.

"We are absolutely fucking doing that again."

Vox collapsed on top of you, his cock buried inside of of you, keeping his cum plugged inside of you. The weight made you groan weakly and he chuckled as he looked down at your wrecked expression. He gently dragged his claws across your forehead, pulling the hair that stuck to your skin out of your face. He pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to your cheek as he committed the sight of you to memory.