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Bert is still wearing Gerard’s glove after 15 years

Evidence is I was there at Jacobs Pavilion when Robert told us it was 15 years old, then stuck his face in it and sniffed before launching into Pretty Handsome Awkward.

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little beast

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I left my Tumblr for a long time, but I’m back because of 4/8.

Are there any JimCorey fans?😭😭😭

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Another thing fandom needs to start doing more of is projecting on tops.

There are delicious amounts of psychological distress you can inflict on that guy once you get into his head. The brainworms of forcing agency and initiative on someone who genuinely is Not Fucking Ready For It are exquisite.

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your ''taboo'' is derivative of the same heteronormative fanworks it was meant to parallel it is shock value slop for the simple minded website scroller who still thinks ao3 has an algorithm your abusive power dynamics arent even as abusive as they are commonplace miscommunication and is certainly far from dynamic because you have not changed your writing style since you were 12 years old. you tag it as crack taken seriously but you did not write this with any earnestness for dark or morally ambiguous storytelling in your heart. a dead dove everybody and they mama could eat. this might as well be an episode of black mirror. and also he would not fucking say that

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i will stop rpfing when they stop wanting to fuck eachother

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wouldn't you know Corey

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JONATHAN 🗣️🗣️🗣️🤘

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corey taylor fucking you while he's in his mask and it only turns you on more 👅👅👅

under the mask ♱ corey taylor

Title: “Under the Mask” Pairing: Corey Taylor x Female Reader Genre: SMUT! Word count: ~2,000 words

You shouldn’t have found it so hot.

You really shouldn’t have.

But here you were—backstage, tucked in the shadows of a dimly lit dressing room after Slipknot’s set, with your back pressed to the cold concrete wall and Corey standing in front of you, still in full stage gear. Mask on. Jumpsuit half unzipped. Steam practically rolling off his sweat-slick skin beneath the black and gray layers.

His chest was rising and falling hard, breath heavy behind the grotesque grin of his mask.

You didn’t speak. Didn’t need to. The way his gloved hand slid slowly up your thigh told you everything you needed to know.

“I saw the way you were looking at me tonight,” he growled through the warped mouthpiece of his mask. His voice was lower than usual—distorted slightly by the material, but it only added to the fire in your core. “You like this, don’t you?”

Your legs pressed together, hips shifting subtly for friction as your fingers fumbled with the hem of your skirt.

Corey leaned in, his breath ghosting against your ear. “You like me like this. With the mask on.”

You whimpered, nodding, and that was all it took.

His hand grabbed your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his hidden gaze. You couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark lenses, but you felt them. Felt them sear into you like coals, burning you from the inside out.

“So fucking filthy,” he muttered, voice ragged. “My sweet girl getting wet for a monster.”

You gasped as his gloved fingers dipped under your panties without warning, finding you already soaked.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “You’re dripping. You want me to ruin you just like this?”

“Please,” you breathed.

That was it. No more teasing.

He spun you around and bent you over the dressing table in one motion, pushing aside the clutter of setlists and water bottles with a crash. His hands yanked your panties down just enough to bare you to him, and before you could even catch your breath, you felt the thick heat of him pressing between your thighs.

Still masked. Still dressed from the waist up. Only the necessary parts exposed.

The contrast sent your head spinning.

Corey didn’t ease in—he never did when he was like this, fresh off stage and still thrumming with adrenaline and rage and power. He bottomed out in one brutal thrust that stole the air from your lungs and made your vision blur.

“Goddamn,” he growled through the mask, grabbing your hips tight. “So tight for me.”

Your fingers scrambled for purchase on the dressing table, nails digging into the wood as he set a punishing pace. The sound of skin slapping echoed against the walls, loud and obscene, mixed with your helpless moans and the heavy rasp of his breath behind that monstrous grin.

He bent over you, grinding deeper, his voice dark and taunting in your ear.

“You gonna come for me like this? Let me fuck it out of you while I still look like a fucking nightmare?”

You nodded frantically, crying out as his hand slid around your throat, holding—not choking, just reminding you who had you. Who was inside you. Who you belonged to.

Your eyes flicked up to the mirror in front of you. The sight made your knees go weak.

You. Bent over, flushed and desperate. Him—mask on, mouth twisted in that fucked-up permanent grin. Still in his boots. Still wrapped in the black of his jumpsuit, only the heavy bulge of him slamming into you revealing the rawness underneath.

You clenched around him at the image alone.

“You see that?” he rasped. “Look how fucking ruined you look for me.”

“Corey—fuck—I’m gonna—”

“No,” he barked, hand tightening at your throat. “You don’t come until I say so.”

You whimpered again, thighs shaking, biting your lip so hard it nearly bled.

But the tension in your stomach only wound tighter. He fucked you like he was still performing—fast, relentless, primal. Each thrust hit deep, almost too deep, and the edge wasn’t just close—it was violent. Every nerve was on fire.

“Take it,” he grunted. “Take it all. My dirty fucking girl.”

When he pulled out suddenly, you whined in frustration—but he turned you around and lifted you onto the dressing table like you weighed nothing.

“I want to see your face when I make you scream,” he growled.

With one swift motion, he thrust back in, burying himself to the hilt. Your hands flew to his shoulders, grabbing at the collar of his jumpsuit, your mouth falling open in a silent scream.

Your walls fluttered around him, already so close to the edge you could barely think.

“Now,” he growled. “Come for me. Let go, baby. Show me what this fucking mask does to you.”

You shattered.

A sob tore from your throat as your orgasm ripped through you, blinding and wet and overwhelming. Your body arched off the table, clenching around him in violent pulses, dragging him over the edge with you.

Corey groaned—loud and low, almost inhuman—as he spilled inside you, grinding deep, holding your hips like he was afraid you’d vanish.

For a moment, there was only the sound of your ragged breaths, your bodies trembling against each other.

Then Corey’s gloved hand came up, gently brushing your cheek.

“You really are a dirty little thing,” he murmured behind the mask.

You gave a weak, breathless laugh. “Only for you.”

He leaned in closer. The mask nuzzled your cheek, the rough leather against your flushed skin sending another shiver down your spine.

“Good,” he said, voice dark and possessive. “Because I’m never taking it off if this is what it does to you.”

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i think all rpf is justified because rpf doesn’t come from nowhere. they were doing something to deserve it

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the girls are fighting ❤️‍🩹

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DOMESTIC DECEMBER 2025

(we skipped a year lol)

So I put this list together with the Ghost and Sleep Token fandoms in mind, it is fully open to all fandoms!

Participate as much or as little as you wish! There is one prompt per day, however there are no rules. Feel free to steal multiple prompts and squeeze them into one big fill for the month. Do whatever you want. I do not care.

Posting it early to give people time to prep if they so desire.

text list of prompts under the cut:

Stuck in traffic

"Don't be mad, but..."

Wearing each other's clothes

gossiping about the neighbors

date night

power outage

cuteness aggression

"How about we just never mention this again?"

birthdays

one bad? no, two twin beds

playing with their hair

casual hugs and kisses

can't sleep

cooking together

"What are you smiling about?"

Grocery shopping

Dyeing and/or cutting hair

"They said they didn't want pickles"

wordless "I love you"s

shared hobbies

making up after a fight

"Oh my god, they were roommates"

conversations at 3am

sharing foods

gift giving

anniversaries

morning or evening routines

building furniture together

lazy days

goofing around

family visits

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this reminds me of corey to admitting to snooping around ppl's fridges when he gets invited to places. if he is still doing that in 2025 alicia needs to commit to leashing him #for #real

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there is something erotic about irritating a man. i’m really enjoying pissing you off. do you want fuck me yet

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girls start bands to make bangers and have fun. boys start bands because theyre scared of the word “bisexual” and to get into intense psychosexual homoerotic partnerships with their bandmates for a decade plus

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