Sketchy painting of the monster from Lisa Frankenstein ❤️🩹❤️🔥
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Sweet Seals For You, Always

pixel skylines
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
trying on a metaphor

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$LAYYYTER

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⁂
Claire Keane
occasionally subtle

#extradirty
Mike Driver
Keni
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

★
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
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DEAR READER
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@respectable-lady
Sketchy painting of the monster from Lisa Frankenstein ❤️🩹❤️🔥
I asked ChatGPT to write me a poem about "almost" and boy.
Here it is, I was surprised
Almost
I almost touched the distant stars, Fingertips just shy of sky, Felt the warmth of something close, But it drifted softly by.
I almost spoke the words I meant, But silence filled the air, A sentence tangled on my tongue, Too fragile to declare.
I almost saw the future clear, But mist clouded the view, A path that shimmered bright ahead Now fades into the blue.
I almost loved, I almost leaped, But fear held fast my hand, A heart that swayed on tipping scales And never chose to land.
I almost lived the dream I chased, But doubt stayed at my side, So many things I almost was— But never quite arrived.
I need a man like hozier OR ELSE
when hozier compared himself to a wild animal saying screaming “do not let me in if you do not want me. i will come back if you feed me, hold me, want me. stop. you do not want this. i can be dangerous, you do not want me.” and then “i’ll be howling outside your door, screaming, scratching, calling to you, for you. don’t you hear me?”
when hozier compared himself to a wild animal saying screaming “do not let me in if you do not want me. i will come back if you feed me, hold me, want me. stop. you do not want this. i can be dangerous, you do not want me.” and then “i’ll be howling outside your door, screaming, scratching, calling to you, for you. don’t you hear me?”
Hozier set himself on fire for the dinner and diatribes music video
He took underwater photo shoots for the wasteland baby album cover
He buried his face with real dirt and worms for the unreal unearth album cover
All he needs to do is fly and then he’s harnessed all four elements
having a zombie boyfriend counts as reducing reusing AND recycling
the way these mfs look at the person they're so deeply in love with
art humping your thigh while you're too busy analyzing his recent matches <33
mhm. u sit with your laptop in bed while art kisses your neck. he’s supposed to be watching too but he’s sleepy, he doesn’t wanna watch anymore, he wants to feel. he presses his lips to the base of your neck, just above your collar bone. you tilt your jaw up to allow his way with you, but you keep your eyes trained on the screen.
“you kept missing on thursday because you centre yourself to the left just a bit. he always hit it to the right and you had to scramble.”
“mm.”
his voice reverberated in your throat as his lips stayed against you.
“i don’t know if you’re playing this guy again, but it’s something to keep in mind.”
“ok.”
he moves over you, shifting his weight till both of his legs are either side of one of yours. he holds your shoulder like a child holds a teddy bear.
his head nestles into your neck, his hair tickles your chin, and you sigh.
“art im trying to help you. they’re fucking you. i don’t want to watch my husband get fucked on the court.”
“can you help me somewhere else?”
you readjust so you can see the laptop better, and kiss his scalp.
“help yourself.”
on the video, art lunges forward, his lean body extending as he grunts like a man and pounds the ball away. sweat pours from every pore on his forehead, chest, arms, and he shines in the sun. it cuts to his competitor, who grazes the ball with his racket to no avail.
in your bed, art presses down onto you, dragging himself backwards. he mewls, hoping to get more of your attention. instead of acknowledging him you pet his hair with a lazy wrist, eyes never leaving the screen. he was playing better now. he won the match after all, but it was still important to review his performance. if he got too comfortable he would start slipping. you needed him on a tight leash if he was going to keep crushing.
he rotates his hips, each time crushing your thigh with a force that must be painful to him. each layer of clothes that separated his flesh from yours slid against the other, the phantom of your touch driving him to desperation.
“you did well for this last set.”
“yeah?”
he pushed himself forward, and drew himself back raking his throbbing groin against your lower thigh. his breath shuddered on your chest. he was working up a rhythm, a dragging, quivering, breathless rhythm.
“yeah. no notes, donaldson.”
“hmm. thank you.”
“are you hard?”
“obviously.”
“i’m not helping you.”
“obviously.”
you laugh. you swirl your fingers in his cropped blonde hair.
“you can do it. i believe in you.”
he doesn’t reply, just groans. his knee was bent, and he held himself up ever so slightly so as to drive himself against you with the most force he could. in his shorts was a sticky, leaking cock, rubbed sensitive. in your panties was a wet, aching pussy. but one of you needed to think of his career.
on the video he sat down, a rest period, with his shirt off, leaning back with his legs spread.
“oh, fuck,” he said, teeth clenched.
you could feel the long thick imprint of his cock, and through all the fabric you could still feel it twitch. you sighed and closed the laptop as his humping quickened and his knee raised further between your legs. as he drove himself down upon you, he knocked his knee to the throbbing of your clit. you breathed deeply.
“you did a good job on thursday. i’m proud of you.”
“thank you. thank you.”
your hand moved to his back, tight from digging his fingers into your shoulder for purchase. he slammed his hips down, making a fwop fabric sounds. you grunted airily.
“that’s enough,” you breathed.
his hips stilled on top of you, pressed to you. he lifted his head, lips parted and cheekbones pink.
“you have a match tommorow. use it.”
a/n: reposted this again cause for some reason the original one w the ask barely surfaced like. anyone .
contents: sub patrick my beloved, reader is a lil funny, patrick is #1 in the slut Olympics, finger sucking, p in v, more stuff. blah blah blah.
patrick zweig is a whore.
if you look up "whore" online, a picture of patrick comes up. you told him that. he didn't take it well.
"i'm not a whore!" he protested. he didn't sound sure of it either, though. and the very obvious boner under his sweatpants spoke for itself.
"patrick, you're literally hard. i didn't even do anything" you deadpanned, staring him right in the eye.
he scoffed then took the pillow next to him and covered his growing erection with it. "you're wearing that shirt again. you know how i feel about it"
you looked down at your shirt. it was an " I ❤️ Art" top which you got at one of art's recent matches, as a joke. (but you really did love art though)
you laughed. "this shirt gets you hard? i mean, patrick, i know how you feel about art, but, a shirt that only mentions him? c'mon man"
"UGHH." patrick groaned as his face turned red. "it's the way the text stretches because of your tits, okay? fuck you."
"i don't know about you fucking me, but me, on the other hand, i'll be glad to do it" you smirked, proud of the little pun you just made.
patrick's hips bucked up into the pillow at that. "yes, please. god, just fuck me. i've been hard the whole day." he cried.
"you've been hard the whole day? how did you manage to actually get through the day without jerking off?" you joked, referencing, well, his slutty tendencies.
patrick blinked and looked around the room suspiciously. "i uh. i did. like two times." he admitted.
"WHAT?!" you screeched. "but- when the fuck?! i was with you like the whole day. except for when you went to the bathroom that one time"
"well. i jerked off then. once" he said.
"and the other time?" you asked.
"uh." he held back. "i uh, i came in my pants. just a few minutes ago when you called me a whore."
your eyes widened. "well then, i was right, wasn't i?"
"i guess so." he said, hips still bucking into the pillow.
"then i gotta treat you like a whore too." you said and took the pillow from his hands and threw it on the floor. immediately straddling his lap, you started making out with him. messily. he moaned into your mouth as you explored his with your tongue. he bit your lip and you pulled back, mouth open, pretending you're going in for more. only to pull back when his mouth chases your again. he moans again. this time, because of frustration.
"don't fucking tease me, i'm so hard, fuck. and i'm so wet, just take my boxers off. please. i'll let you do anything you want to me if you take them off." he pleaded.
you raised your eyebrow at him. "i can do anything i want to you, even if you don't let me." you giggled. "but just to be nice, i'll take them off."
and shit, he was right. his boxers were fucking drenched. of cum, thanks to the fact that he had came in his pants. like the slut he is.
"hey uh. you have a bit of boxers in your cum." you couldn't help but joke.
you grabbed his jaw, softly, and then slammed him back onto the pillow, right hand all over his face. then, as your fingers reached his mouth, he immediately parted his lips and took them in, sucking on them while holding eye contact. you let him have his fun for a couple of seconds, then tried removing them in order to take off his boxers. he didn't like that.
"put them back." he whined, as he took your two fingers and put them back in his mouth, pressing them against his tongue. "i can take my boxers off by myself."
his little high-pitched moans filled the room, all while not even being touched by you yet. he finally let go of your fingers with a loud pop.
you looked at his pretty dick resting on his stomach. he was really, really fucking big. girthy too. pink, wet tip with a brown-ish base, slightly curved to the left. just right to hit that one spot in your pussy you couldn't reach by yourself.
"please. please. please. pleas-" he started. only you cut him off. he did this often. repeating the world "please" until you sucked him off. or fucked him. or did anything, really. anything other than staring at him and not touching.
"shut it, zweig. i'll only fuck you if you convince me with your words, but you're not allowed to say please. if you say please, i'll leave you like this." you smile confidently at him. his dick was fucking twitching. thighs squeezing every now and then, even with you straddling him. he was doing everything in his power not to lose his shit and jerk himself off.
but he still put on that patrick zweig signature smirk. challenge accepted.
"i need you to fuck me until i can't speak coherently anymore. i need you to fuck me like if you don't do it, we'll both die. fuck me so hard that my eyes will roll to the back of my head for you. ride me until i start crying. just do it. i'm so hard it hurts. i need you-" he whimpered, trying to get his dick somehow closer to you.
and with that you took off your panties, and lined up your entrance with his dick. not sinking down on him yet.
"will you eat me out after this?" you ask.
" is that even a questi- OH FUCKK" he moaned, like someone straight from a pornographic movie. you started bouncing up and down on his cock, all while kissing and sucking at the skin of his neck, shoulders and chest. you went rough with him. but you knew that he was going to stay hard even after cumming the third time, so you didn't hold back at all.
after all, he was going to pay you back. considerably a good amount of times.
Lisa Frankenstein (2024) dir. Zelda Williams
Spoilers for Lisa Frankenstein but the creature writing “Beloved Wife” on Lisa’s tombstone was the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen, it’s driving me crazy
I love that all the body parts used to repair the creature in Lisa Frankenstein were things that hurt her when attached to the living person they came from. Like, Lisa's stepmom never listened to her, so creature took her ear and always listened, that guy whos name I don't remember tried to assault her with his hand, but creature took it and touched her gently with it, and that other guy whos name I also don't remember fucked her stepsister with his dick, but creature took it and fulfilled Lisa's dying wish with it. Idk, it's cute to me and I want someone like that.
big fan of this genre of ships: goth couples that are head over heels for each other
undead boy with "UNMARRIED" on his gravestone makes sure to put "BELOVED WIFE" on his girl's gravestone even though he knows she won't be in the ground for long
Hannibal/ Addams Family crossover where Hannibal is distantly related to Morticia and has tea with the family often
Morticia: Hannibal are you alright? You seem....conflicted
Hannibal: Will sent someone to kill me
Morticia: Oh that's wonderful!
Gomez: Stupendous!
Morticia: What's there to feel conflicted about?
Hannibal: I wish Will would attempt to kill me himself. And he practically seduced the man! Why won't he seduce me into killing someone for him?
Morticia: Because you framed and imprisoned him, dear-
Gomez: Remember when you framed me for that double homicide?
Morticia: -As if I could ever forget how you looked during your questioning. You mustn't be upset with the man for using the tools at his disposal. If he is trying to kill you, then he is thinking of you. Who cares what methods are used as long as it comes from the heart.
Hannibal: You're right as always, cousin