catxxsh

[catxxsh]

I just want to catch up on all our lost time

i have been listening to this on repeat for the past. month and a half and i just. oh its them im sick oh....

[catxxsh]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51894697

Lascivious - KillerOfHope

If you need input for more NSFW comics. This is one of the best I've read with just how deplorable smutty it is

HOLY SHIT… 😳🥵😩

[catxxsh]

‼️TW: SUICIDE, BLOOD, GUN‼️

Sorry for this

[catxxsh]

if you marry me

would you bury me?

[catxxsh]

Slip the veil

[catxxsh]

[catxxsh]

Caryn Pines, whose still alive to witness her little free spirit Stanley miraculously rise from the dead. The Stan twins buy a brand new sofa that extends into a bed just for her, so she doesn’t have to make a treacherous journey up the stairs. It’s her own slice of heaven, seeing her babies get along like they did when they were children. Seeing her grandchildren parallel to their uncles; Dipper, studious and reclusive, Mabel, crafty and eccentric.

It all comes to a head when Caryn wakes up at the witching hour. There’s ruckus being made in the kitchen, pushing herself upright and cursing at everything under the sun as she grabs a broom. She’s ready to beat whatever creature made the mistake of entering her sons home — pausing at the sight of her two sons.

“We need to put a lock on the sugar. I don’t know if my stomach can tolerate another Mabel’s Guide To Cooking experiment.” Ford grumbles. He opens the fridge, taking out a lemonade pitcher and pours out two glasses.

Stan’s chuckles. “Mhm. I know where you could get some sugar.”

Ford rolls his eyes at the cheesy line, having heard it a million times before. Thick fingers hook into the band of Ford’s boxers to reel him close to Stan. Ford narrows his eyes, raising an eyebrow as both his hands are preoccupied with glass, the condensation wetting his palms.

Stan grins, leaning in to steal a kiss.

It lasts for a mere few seconds before Caryn’s screams bloody murder.

The twins pull apart as if they’ve been electrocuted. Lemonade glasses crash into the sticky hardwood flooring, as they both snatch the nearest possible weapon. Stanley, an animal spinal cord with it’s ribs still attached. Stanford, a lamp.

“Mom? Mom, what’s wrong?” Stan asks, putting the bones down and taking a step closer. Caryn clutches the broom like a lifeline. She can only stare at this-this monster that’s inches closers with every step. He holds out his hand, presumably to take away the broom from her clutch. Motherly instinct kicks in, to protect Stanford from his own twin. Her arms rise to strike Stanley down. “Ow! Ow! Mom — that hurts! OW!”

“You freak!” Caryn screeches in agony and anger. Stan goes frigid underneath the safety of his arms from his mother’s blows. He looks down at his mother with her fury in his eyes — Stanley thinks she’s talking about Stanford. “You’re a monster!”

“I know it’s - OW! - the old age talking.” Stanley growls, one hand grabbing the handle of the broomstick. It only infuriates her further. “I don’t care if you’re our mom. I won’t let you talk about Stanford like that.”

“Mom, it’s really early in the morning. I think it’s better if we talk about whatever is bothering you with some breakfast.” Ford tries. They think she’s stupid. She’s known everything about them. How could she miss this? Ford places the lamp down, stepping closer to de-escalate the situation. “Please, stop hitting Stanley.”

“I saw you kissing your brother!” Caryn screams.

The twins freeze.

Caryn turns her focus back to Stanley. There’s no love for him anymore. Not for this depraved abomination corrupting her sons innocence. She tugs at the broom and the handle spilts in two. “How could you do this? After all the pain and misery you put us through, how could you?”

“Mom, I’m sorry—“ Stan starts.

Caryn doesn’t let him finish. She thrusts the broom handle forward like a sword and lets the splintered wood make a flesh wound into his left shoulder. Stan yells in pain, hand coming up to cover the bleeding.

“You ruined your own life! And now you you’re trying to drag your brother down with you!” She tries to strike another blow but misses as he stumbles backward, falling flat on his ass. Ironic, that even as he raises his uninjured arm to protect himself, it’s a strikingly all-to-familiar position. As a child protecting himself Filbrick’s coropal punishment.

Ford steps between them then, using himself as a shield to protect Stan from any further harm. “You’re worse than Filbrick. At least he wasn’t a fucking pervert for his own family! I want you dead, Stanley. DEAD!”

Ford takes the wooden handle out of her hands without a fight, tossing it away. Silence fills the room, none of them knowing what to say.

“Grunkle Stan?” Dipper calls from the kitchen entryway. The three of them snap their heads in his direction. He stands there with a bat in his hands, Mabel tucked safely behind him with her own grappling gun; looking worriedly at their bleeding Grunkle. Stanley scrambles onto his feet then, walking past the younger set of twins.

“Stanley, wait!” Ford calls for him. He raises his hand in a futile attempt to reach him, feet frozen in place as he lets the distance grow further. There’s the sharp sound of a door slamming, followed with a car speeding away from the Mystery Shack.

[catxxsh]

[catxxsh]

"Stan has no idea, but he did it. He saved the world. He saved me. You're our hero, Stanley."

*Something something*- no matter againts who or what-Stan will always protect his bro

[catxxsh]

you could just say no

sirius/harry | 250 words | discord prompt: obsession (cw: underage)

_ "​Can I kiss you?​"

Sirius cocks his head and quirks an eyebrow and sinks into tufted leather. ​"Now why… would you want to do that?​"

Harry deflates. ​"You could just say no.​"

​"I didn’t say no. I asked why.​”

He swipes the bottle back from Harry and takes a swig himself. Harry watches the mischief zip through his body, over flexing muscles and fading runes, leaving trails everywhere in its wake. A starlight twinkle in silver eyes. A twitch at the corner of his mouth. A peek of tongue between liquor-warmed lips.

Because I’m madly in love with you, Harry manages not to say.

Because I’m completely obsessed with you. About a dozen times worse.

Because if I don’t, I’ll die.

Harry swallows the nerves, the dramatics, the damning symptoms of his age, and says: "When you look at me, I feel like you’re seeing parts of me I didn’t know existed.​"

Silver dims to black. Mischief yields to lust. Even Harry, awkward, clueless, never-been-kissed Harry, can spot the signs of arousal.

Sirius brushes the broad back of his hand over Harry’s fevered cheek. A thumb detours to his lower lip. Silver-black eyes follow its path.

“​​Everything you let me see is a privilege, darling."

Harry might die, regardless.

"I feel I must do my godfatherly duty and impress upon you what a thoroughly wretched idea this is.​"

Harry closes his eyes and tries not to come on the spot. “Noted.”

[catxxsh]

OMG LOOK THE NIGHT LIGHT THAT I RECEIVED TODAY!!! THE PERFECT ADDITION TO MY SPOOKY COLLECTION :)

**Update for the people sending me asks I bought the product HERE

[catxxsh]

Oh, Simon, I'm afraid this isn't the Johnny you knew anymore

[ 1 - previous / 2 - you are here ]

[catxxsh]

why is it always the fancylad boy-king type whos the bottom. maybe his tough loyal knight who uses his body to protect and defend him and lives to serve him wants to get railed

[catxxsh]

I finally wrote something for TUA, and of course it's one of the most controversial pairings possible. Don't like, don't read. Scroll on.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26062081

[catxxsh]

“Why don’t you—

“Can I—“

—stick around…“

There’s a faint smile on Diego’s face that has Five feeling that little flip he gets akin to those moments he’s falling between jumps. Diego’s always made him feel unsteady, it’s unnerving at times how much he actually enjoys the feeling of weightlessness.

•-•-•-•

Or 5 times Five wishes he had more time for Diego and the one time he has all the time in the world.

[catxxsh]

it's you i've been waiting for by florarchon: a new dazaku series! ^w^

dazaku is the focus, and they have some kind of gay thing going on (it's queerplatonic). skk bicker like crazy; they're shadow boss and boss of the port mafia. gin, kouyou (and q to a lesser degree) also cameo.

this is a twinflame au! "twinflames" are like soulmates but not really. where soulmates are two souls destined to be together, twinflames are one soul in two separate bodies.

as of posting this, here's what's in the series so far:

darling, don't be afraid. the intro story! how aku comes to be in the port mafia, and daz + aku's first meeting. (g, 1.7k, complete)

all about you. me writing this was like "oh i guess i'm just rewriting canon at this point cool". daz trains aku! (t, 1.6k, complete)

baptized. this is a plotty multichapter fic! chuuya, daz, aku sibs and kouyou deal with a Menace. also if this interests you... it gets Meta. (t, 8k, complete)

you can read it on ao3 if you're a member! (all my fics are locked because i heard people have been datamining/stealing for ai reasons.)

[catxxsh]

OLD MAN KENOBI RAILING LUKE?!

my previous obiluke post was in a happier gffa, but this one ill keep slightly more canon compliant. other than the fact that, you know, obi-wan is railing luke (well not technically in this post. not yet at least.)

luke looks just like anakin and yet he doesn’t at all. obi-wan doesn’t know if he’s relieved or miserable about this. he’s only sure of his gladness that the boy barely resembles padme. 

boy probably isn’t the right word to describe him anymore. not that it matters. obi-wan has been watching him too closely for too long — luke is a boy forever to him. spinning in the sands at dusk, dust clouds whipping up around him as he speeded through the canyons. crying in his his dying mothers arms. boy.

he never had trouble dissecting anakin in two like this. there was anakin the boy, and then anakin the man. was that his own doing? or had anakin shoved his adulthood so far down his throat obi-wan didn’t have the chance to choke on it? maybe the war had done it. or maybe anakin had wanted it.

luke continues to surprise obi-wan. 

(stay away from him, owen told him. he never said anything about what to do when luke showed up at his door of his own volition. or what to do when it kept happening.)

it’s years of stargazing and sand-storm watching and tinkering and extremely low risk flying lessons. luke is somehow even more restless than anakin. he never wants to do the same thing two visits in a row. he drags obi-wan to the markets and to seedy cantinas that he’s not of-age to be in. obi-wan lets him believe the bartender really thinks he’s older than he is, keeping the twitch of his hand and pull of his mind close to his chest, undetected.

two lightsabers sit cold and untouched in his home. luke is just a boy.

he is nothing like anakin. he’s pulled by the influence of his few teenage friends. he wants to fit in. wants to be liked. maybe he is like anakin. only anakin was never so obvious with his efforts.

“how do you feel about sunbathing, ben?” 

“are we never not sunbathing on this planet?”

luke pouts. “i mean, actually sunbathing. with intent.”

“it’s nearly dusk.”

“that’s the point! it’s less damaging.”

“you’re already perfectly tan, luke.”

“not everywhere.”

obi-wan almost swallows his tongue. he could just say no. luke is compliant in a way anakin never was. still, the sun will be going down sooner rather than later, and then the boy will be gone for who knows how long, with the way his uncle has been working him this summer. 

so, he gives in. he peels the only sheet he has off his bed, and lays it in the sand. 

“you’re gonna join me, right?”

he takes off his clothes and folds them into a little pile. his boots are so much larger than lukes. the boy is nothing like anakin.

it’s easier than it should be to close his eyes and relax, laid out on his sheet next to luke. there are only a few, scant inches between them. It’s enough to make him feel like he is not going mad. they’re both silent, and obi-wan wonders if there is something wrong with him for thinking this was strange in the first place. casual nudity was a fact of life for a jedi, why had he squirmed at the thought of being nude with luke? 

time passes, and the suns are nearly set, the sky purple. his joints ache from laying on the ground, and something else aches at the thought of sending luke home. still, it must be done.

obi-wan opens his eyes and turns to the boy. 

the boy is hard. “oh,” obi-wan says quietly.

immediately, luke is scrambling, taking his arms from behind his head and covering himself. the touch of his hands makes him hiss and obi-wan watches his little hips twist, either running away or pushing into the movement. 

“im sorry! i—“

“it’s alright, luke,” obi-wan tells him, like he should. he’s a growing boy, it’s natural. the words just come out of him, despite never being in this kind of situation before. he’d spent most of anakins adolescence thinking the boy was asexual. that simply, in the way of all things concerning anakin, he was simply different. perhaps he didn’t get hard at all. 

he knew better, now. the proof otherwise was sat right next to him. anakin got hard. just not around him.

“i thought it would go away. I’m sorry, ben. i really am,” luke said sheepishly. his golden cheeks were stained red. “i don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“you’re not,” obi-wan soothes without thinking. 

“i can — i can just turn over,” the boy starts.

obi-wan pictures luke ass up in the pink glow of the setting suns, and feels like he’s been electrocuted.

“no, no, darling. it’s okay, its alright,” he says. he can’t let luke do that. he reaches out and grips lukes bicep, and his fingers meet easily. lifting his gaze back to lukes, he aches at the panic in his eyes, the tremble in his lip. anakin would have ran a long time ago; selfish. he never let obi-wan see him like this. his grip lessens and he brings his hand to brush through lukes hair, and down his cheek. “you don’t have to be embarrassed. it — it happens to everyone.”

luke blinks slowly, “really?”

obi-wan feels filled with warmth, like he’s soaking up all the heat from lukes red cheek. “how old do you think i am?”

“i mean,” luke ducks his head and chokes out a laugh before looking at him again, “you’re not mad?”

obi-wans hand slips from his cheek to his neck. “no, i’m not.”

“oh,” luke breathes out, relieved. obi-wan glances down. he’s still hard. leaking, now. uncut, too. he tries to conjure up the image of anakin in one of the hundred of communal baths they shared, for comparison, for reference, but the thought makes his head throb. he tries to let the train of thought die and refocuses his gaze on lukes face. 

“though, i probably shouldn’t send you back home like this.”

luke looks at him with big eyes, “ben?”

obi-wan squeezes his neck, brings his fingers up the back to rub at his nape, “does it hurt?”

“yes,” luke tells him, and his knees knock inward.

“have you been like this the whole time? did laying next to me make you this way?”

luke nods. obi-wan moves his hand back around, running down lukes chest to his sternum, then back up to pet at his collarbones.

“you poor thing. why didn’t you tell me?”

“i didn’t think you would…” he trails off, then restarts, “i thought you’d be upset.”

“i told you, darling, it’s nothing to be shy about. it’s only natural.”

biting his lip, luke looks like he doesn’t believe him. “but i’m the only one that’s hard.”

“do you want to see my cock get hard, luke?” 

the word cock seems to shock luke out of his anxiety, and into motion. he gets his knees under himself and presses into obi-wans touch, leans forward until his soft palms are pressing against obi-wan’s rough knees. “yes, yes. please, ben.”