#i guess this counts as a fic

[flowers-in-your-basement]

(this weirdass fic(?) takes place during all hell breaks loose)

Sam can't be dead. Really he can't, because just a week ago they were fighting and it's not fair for him to die when they still disagree. And he cant be dead because Dean used to sing him to sleep when he was younger, and when he was even younger Dean used to feed him from a bottle (Sam can't be dead because Dean was created for him).

So... Sam must be faking it, this must be one of his pranks, just... it's a bit much okay Sammy? "You really scared me there, but it's just alone now, you don't need to pretend anymore" Dean says into the open air, (no smell of rot he tells himself, he's wrong)

Sam doesn't move

Sam can't be dead because okay, Dean was meant to die for how he thinks about his little brother, he was meant to die to keep him alive, but Sam, Sam was supposed to live.

Sam doesn't move.

Sam's dead he realises, mind 3 days behind on everything, Sams dead and they never even got to kiss, Sam's dead and Dean never had him the way he wanted too. Worst of all, Sams dead and he has never been anything without Sam.

He looks to the side, on the floor, his fake id, still a picture of him. It would be worth it, since Sammy is more important than he could ever be.

[keferon]

*clasps your shoulders gently and looks you straight in the eye*

Keferon. Please read Ninth by Kyn on AO3. I think you would love it very much. It has a large chapter count, but don't be intimidated, it's very easy to get into. It is currently unfinished, but is being updated regularly.

You are the seventh person that recommended this fic to me so ahahahaha yeah

I’m doing great Help I hate some parts of it but I love the other parts I’m spinning in the blender

…..I made the moodboard….

[gammija]

idly thinking about an AU where Jon and Martin do manage to land in the same world, in roughly the same location, but separated by time.

Lots of time.

Jon arrives in Britain, in 1988. Martin also arrives in Britain, also in the 80's - the 1780s. Maybe it's the Web putting the pieces in new starting positions, maybe it's just happenstance. Who can say.

The first thing Martin does is look for Jon, of course. Unfortunately, he realizes pretty quickly that, if Jon is here, he's not anywhere near him. But Martin's not giving up that easily. If he's going to find him, he needs resources. So, with a knack for lying to wealthy old men, and using a minimal amount of historical knowledge, he makes a modest name for himself. Hopefully enough so that Jon will be able to find him, when he looks for him -

Because Martin hasn't been able to find a trace of him yet. Not as a real person in the world, and not as a reference in any old texts or stories about odd appearances of men with alien clothes, lots of scars, or piercing eyes.

A few years pass, without Martin finding any sign of Jon. Slowly, he has to come to terms with a few facts:

Firstly, that the Fears are definitely also in this world. In his search for Jon, he's come across far too many accounts that sound eerily familiar. Though they seem to have popped up in the world around the same time he did; He doesn't have any earlier records that consistently line up with the patterns he's familiar with. Which most likely means that they - he - are responsible for their existence in this world... Martin tries not to think about it.

Secondly, thankfully, this must mean that Jon didn't arrive centuries before he did, living and dying without anyone taking notice, which Martin had gotten more and more worried about. He wouldn't have arrived without the Fears being there too. No, if Jon is going to appear in this world, (and Martin is not going to think about the alternatives), he'll arrive in his future.

Maybe so far into the future that Martin won't even live to see him. In which case, however much he'd like to avoid thinking about it, Martin has to create something here and now. Something that will last beyond his lifetime. Something Jon will be able to find as soon as he looks for Martin, so at least Jon won't have to wonder what happened to him, will know that he did not arrive completely alone, that Martin did not abandon him.

Thirdly... through his search for Jon, Martin has amassed quite a little collection of esoteric and weird stories. And, though he did it 200 years in the future, he does have some experience running an organization that ostensibly researches the supernatural, which would also be a good way to keep track of any potential new Jon leads. He thinks of naming it after Jon, of course, but it's not like Jon is going to look for his own name first, is he? And it'd raise more questions than if he named it after himself.

Cue the bittersweet ending where Jon falls out of the sky on a sunny day in the middle of London, asks for someone named Martin Blackwood, and finds Blackwood Organization, a public collection of ghost stories dating back to the 1800. He is given a set of personal letters from the founder, to be hand delivered only to a man called Jonathan Sims as soon as he would walk in the door.

...Or -

After yet another few years, in which Martin has set up his organization and is part of a decent network of people with similar interests (though he dislikes most of them), he bumps into someone. Jonah Magnus. It's an incredibly odd experience, though in hindsight, it was bound to happen, considering the information he's after. Martin has the urge to kill him right there, but the man doesn't seem to be from the future. He's just a creepy guy. Younger than Martin, too, which is also weird. But he manages to shake it off, and doesn't see him again.

Though he does keep tabs on him. Seeing him has set Martin thinking. He's been getting older, and his modern constitution isn't faring great in Georgian times. The organization is doing okay, but he's not sure yet if it's really going to survive after he's, well, gone, which would defeat the whole point. With a few more years, could he make it stronger? Could he maybe even reunite with Jon in person?

Furthermore, with the Fears being now well established, it's only a matter of time before someone tries a ritual. No, Martin isn't going to try and do one first, that'd be really stupid, not to mention evil. He just has to make sure that the world actually survives for Jon to appear in it.

A plan begins to form. One he really doesn't like. But one that, the more he considers it, is very possible. He's quite sure now the Fears mostly operate on vibes. Sure, he's maybe not a full avatar, but through letting the public read stories about the fears, hasn't he kind of spread awful knowledge? Hasn't he seen a lot of terrible things in turn? The Eye was already fond of him, according to Jon.

And even if it were to go wrong... Martin would die in either case, and the only other person suffering would be Jonah. He can't find it in himself to feel too awful about that.

Jon falls out of the sky on a sunny day in 1986. After a short and panicked search, he walks through the doors of the Blackwood Organization, Hilltop Lane 148, Oxford. The receptionist greets him. She seems somewhat shocked as she does so, tells him to take a seat as she makes a call. He doesn't know what else to do, so he sits. The chairs are surprisingly comfortable.

A few minutes later, someone he doesn't at all recognize enters the foyer. He looks at Jon, stops, freezes. Jon stills as well.

The man is unfamiliar in every way. He's short, for one, his skin a darker complexion, hair curling in a way his never did. But those eyes, as soon as he sees them, he recognizes. Those are the eyes of the man he trusted to kill him.

[benjaminthecoathanger]

okay, because i saw a poll earlier and i thought the choices weren't clear enough and also the answers i saw to it annoyed me and also i'm curious:

NOTES:

I am including having watched gameplay of a game and not having played it as having watched the source material

In this context if you are writing fic/making art and you are not being commissioned to do so. This is purely for funsies

You getting into something because you saw a post/gifset/video about it and then watched the source material does not count. That's just how you get into new things.

Goncharov does not count because it's not real. I'll break kayfabe here I don't care.

[mothlover69]

Was having some thoughts and meant to just write a silly little post but it got away from me so.. here's a (unedited) thing with older!Leon aka the hottest Leon

Leon wants a pretty young thing that he can spoil and take care of and make them feel soooooo good.

Leon feels guilty about wanting a pretty young thing. He's in his 40s, if he gave in to what he wants he's worried he'd be corrupting them, ruining them, taking away their chance at a normal romance with someone their own age. After all, with what happened in Raccoon City, and with the way he was forced to play agent, his own chance at a normal life was taken from him. He likes to think he's a good, respectful man, and he would hate to do that to someone else.

(Nevermind that comparing being in a relationship with him with being the government's dog is asinine)

Leon meets you, and you are young, beautiful, with eyes that he keeps finding himself lost in. The way you talk, the way you say his name... everything about you draws him in. You're everything he's wanted. Everything that he's stayed up late at night fantasizing about.

He doesn't pursue you. He tells himself it would be wrong. But now his daydreams have a face- your face. He begins to see you everywhere he looks. He begins hoping that he'll bump into you while he's out and about. You're haunting him.

He doesn't pursue you, but when he sees you out in public, he makes time to talk to you. He doesn't pursue you, but he gives you his number and tells you that you can contact him anytime for any reason. He doesn't pursue you, but he buys you a coffee and compliments your top that hugs your figure so nicely.

...he tries to tell himself that he's not pursuing, that these are all things he'd do for any of his few friends.

But then one day you text him, ask him to come over and help you move a piece of furniture, and he tells himself he's just helping out a friend even as he carefully selects a pair of jeans that hang low on his hips and the tight, black shirt he caught you eyeing the last time he wore it. He oh so carefully does his eyeliner, brushes his hair, spritzes his favorite cologne. Had it been anyone else, he'd've thrown on some sweats and not even bothered to look in the mirror. But it's you, and he's just helping you with a favor, but is it so wrong if he'd like for you to enjoy looking at him?

And then he's in your house after you welcome him in with a friendly smile that makes his stomach tighten and he helps you with whatever you need and he can't stop thinking about how he's alone with you. And you're wearing an outfit that makes his hands ache withe the desire to touch you. But he's a good, respectful man, and he will control himself. Until he goes to leave and you place a hand on his arm and ask if he'll stay for dinner. You look at him with hopeful eyes, biting your lip, and he crumbles. How could he possibly say no, even as he tells himself to let you down easy so you can find someone better than him?

Silly Leon. Doesn't realize there is no one better than him. That you've wanted him just as badly if not moreso and damn it, if he doesn't make a move soon, then you will. And the moment you do, his self control evaporates like morning dew on a hot summer's day, and he gives in to every desire. And he vows that he will give you the best life possible, the life you deserve.

[yukipri]

I finally got a beta for my fic!! May I introduce: Sabo!

For his first time editing, he deleted my entire chapter and instead wrote:

Wow, he can type with his ass. Skills.

April Fool's (but he really did type that)

Cats tag: #YukiPriASLKittens

[theminecraftbee]

Grian comes to again, flat on his back, and groans. Distantly, he hears Scar yelling an apology. It’s hard to tell if Scar had accidentally dropped sand, accidentally kicked one of the dragon eggs currently littering their bases (causing it to fall), or had missed concrete somewhere and caused that to drop, but the apology, this time, was at least sincere, so he’s fairly certain Scar didn’t intentionally knock Grian out. Doesn’t mean Grian hadn’t been knocked on his ass by, what, a pavlovian reaction to sand? But it means Scar hadn’t been intentionally exploiting it.

He’s rubbing his head when he hears them chittering distantly. He looks up, and then he Looks up, just to make sure he’s not imagining it, and… yep, they’re there. The Watchers. They’re busy happily chittering about the fact that Grian passes out when any block falls to the ground. Of course they are. He wonders if this is their fault. Probably not; Watchers may be annoying, but they can’t see the future, so it’s not like they’d have known about the egg thing ahead of time. No, they’re probably just amused at his suffering.

Joke’s on them. This is mostly just going to make cleaning up slower. And they’re going to have to deal with that too, on account of the fact Grian can’t do much else until it’s done.

He’s trying to hit another egg with a piston when he hears, distantly, “shoot, the beach!”, realizes what has happened, and then he’s waking up on the ground again. He stares at the sky for a moment.

“Trust Scar with sand, I thought. He terraforms all the time, I thought. He won’t keep messing me up with it, I thought.” He groans.

The chittering of the Watchers gets louder. He hears a lot of ‘Scar’ and ‘sand’ and ‘he can’t bear it’ and. Great. Grian’s pretty sure he knows what comment is coming next—

you’ve never left that desert.

“So this is your fault!” he says, accusingly. “Why! All it’s done is make my life more confusing!”

Indistinct noises. At one point, when Grian had been more one of them than he is now, he had been able to tell all of the voices apart easily. Now, the Watchers are somewhere between the wall of incomprehensible, horrible sound that they are to mortals and normal voices. He has to strain to pick out anything overly specific. He supposes if he chose to go all Watcher again he’d be able to tell what they’re saying, but frankly, they’re all annoying, so why would he bother? Better to stick to things as they are.

He messages Scar: If you drop sand one more time I am going to figure out how to add more dragon eggs to your base.

Scar messages back: its an accideet

Grian responds one more time: lol. accideet.

He takes a moment before standing up to check around himself. Scar does seem to have moved on from whatever he’d been doing with terraforming to keep dropping gravity blocks, so it’s probably safe to stand without passing out again. What had he been doing? Right. Eggs. Piston.

you never left that desert, Grian hears again from the wall of noise.

“Right. That’s me. Never left,” Grian says. Honestly.

can’t stand the sight of scar and sand.

“You know you guys are reaching, right?” Grian says.

never left—

“I would if you’d let me!” snaps Grian.

Indistinct chittering. Deep breaths. He’s fine. He's apparently developed sand-based epilepsy or something, and is trying to find the solution to that, but. Fine. He’s fine. It’s not like arguing with Watchers is ever actually worth it. They never change their mind. The thing is that they tend to think they know exactly how he works, and no matter how much he tries to refute their baseless assumptions, they still have a picture in their head, and they still keep working off of it.

A strange shudder runs down his back.

you never left that desert.

“Look, it’s not that I’m not over it,” Grian says. “I’m actually pretty over it. I’ve been over it since Last Life, really, even if none of you believe me.” He puts another egg in his inventory. “Scar’s my friend and he’s a weird guy and I like him, but it’s not like I’m not over that stupid game. Wouldn’t keep playing it if I weren’t over it, would I?”

Indistinct chittering about tragedy and deserts and dramatic final suicides and, look, Grian is good at telling stories. That’s the whole point. That’s why these guys won’t leave him alone. But sometimes, he swears…

“So you know, I would have left the desert by now. It’s just that you all haven’t. So guess who’s still stuck here? Believe me, it’s not me who’s not over it. If you wanted me out of the desert, you could let me leave any time you’d l—”

He has a second’s warning before he’s on the ground, dizzy, hoping he hasn’t gotten a concussion. He glances down at his communicator.

Mumbo says: that was me this time my bad

Shakily, Grian types: you have 10 seconds. start running.

The chittering gets more distant. Grian gets up. He checks to make sure his wings are on. He goes to light a rocket, but not before shouting: “Scar, if you do anything with gravity blocks while I am actively flying I will kill you dead!”

“Have fun buddy!” Scar shouts back. Grian’s not sure Scar actually heard a word he said. Well, hopefully there will be no sand falling from his hands while he goes to murder Mumbo, then. If there is, Grian’s—well, Grian’s going to have a broken bone at that rate, but he’s recovered from far worse falls. Some of those have even been Scar’s fault, by some measure or another.

He Looks back up at the mass he knows are the Watchers. “If this is you all’s fault because you never seem to have gotten over the whole desert thing, I’ll find a way to, I don’t know. Inconvenience you greatly. Not sure what I’ll do, but I’ll figure it out.”

The chittering gets way more fond, then. Pleased. They want him to do that. Can’t even threaten the assholes properly, they like it. Honestly, Grian doesn’t know why he bothers. It’s not like they’ll listen. No matter how many times he says he’s over it, it’s not like they’ll listen.

(Sometimes, he hates that he’s so good at stories.)

Right then. Time to wreak havoc on his friends for exploiting his very exploitable weakness, then. This sword’s got sharpness on it, right?

------

(originally written for @hermitcraftguesstheauthorevent, and posted on ao3 here; now that it's revealed, i figured i'd go ahead and post it here, since it really matches the cadence of one of my tumblr things more than an ao3-only fic. enjoy!)

[marigoldendragon]

Gentle reminder to not spend too much time engaging with negativity online

[diabolicalworldwriter]

there's something sadly funny about the way that Kaladin goes into literally every situation thinking "Too bad I'm not cool anymore 😔"

I mean. I get it. Depression fucks your brain up and you feel detached from yourself and any skills you have or had. The PTSD and chronic fatigue are keeping him from doing things he once managed with far less effort. And it's rather impossible to feel like you can just... do things like you used to when you're struggling at a basic level to simply be.

Still, literally everyone who knows him is like "Kaladin you're so storming cool" and he goes "They're referring to the person I was, who is dead. I'll never be cool again. I'm sorry."

The most hilarious thing? He walks into these moments, thinking 'too bad', and then he does the most objectively amazing thing possible while everyone else just watches in awe.

Kaladin, three seconds after absolutely changing everyone's outlook on life: Aw, it's too bad the person I just was died again. Guess I have to find something else to be cuz I sure can't pull that off anymore.

[z0mbie2b0y]

Stiles wasn't human, well they don't exactly know what he is but he's something.

It was something everyone suspected but never voiced out loud unless in a joking or teasing manner but soon after Stiles visited relatives in Poland they saw signs, signs of things that couldn't be explained or understood, even though they checked the Bestiary they couldn't find it... Deaton or Chris didn't know and even their contacts. So they did the best thing they could, they went back to where it all started which was a fucking cave in the woods near Stiles's grandmother's home...

(Ehhh might add more might drop it

[connorfrost]

Yknow what my brain feels like it’s melting out my skull so I’m going to share a headcanon that brings me such comfort in these trying times.

Wanderer 100% gets migraines. You cannot convince me otherwise.

Like he got bonked on the head REAL FUCKING HARD after his free trial of godhood, I’d be so surprised if he didn’t have some sort of chronic pain after that.

And you KNOW he’d be so stubborn about it too- probably wouldn’t say anything is wrong until he physically couldn’t hide it anymore (aka literally me as a child- I would wait to tell someone until I threw up)

But when Nahida finds out she’s so sweet to him, probably does her dream magic thing to give him good dreams as he rests and puts on ice pack on his head. (Would give him painkillers if he wanted them but. Dottore trauma. So he probably wouldn’t take them.)

Anyways I’m going to crawl back into my cave

[ughgoaway]

White Christmas

Content warnings; blowjobs, face fucking, facials/cumming on face, degrading, dumbification, swearing, bad writing and cumplay.

a/n; hey y’all… apparently we are feeling horny this Christmas, so I decided to write some (mediocre) smut! This was all inspired by @abiiors making a joke about a “white Christmas” so you all have her to blame. This is basically an expansion of the letters O and K from my nsfw alphabet the other day because they were some of my favourite bits!! Anyway, merry Christmas, I hope you enjoy??

p.s; im not sure if this will stay up long, ik I say that most times, but honestly, this time, I really don't know if this will be here long lmaoooo

word count; 2.2k ish (pretty short one today bc i wrote it so last minute lol)

✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿

“We’re off now! See you both in a few hours!” Denise yelled back as she and Annie walked out the front door. Mayhem was pulling at the lead with so much strength that she was sure he could pull her arm out of her socket. 

“Alright, see you both later!” You say waving them off. Denise and Annie had decided to take mayhem for a long Christmas walk around the lake and then planned on popping into the only cafe open on Christmas for a couple of hot chocolates, leaving you and Matty to relax on your own for a few hours.

You come into the front room and perch on the sofa next to Matty as he shoves the remaining wrapping paper in a bin bag. He was in full dad-at-Christmas mode, grabbing the paper off people before they'd even finished opening their presents.

He finally settled back on the sofa with a sigh, looking at you with love-filled eyes and a soft smile on his lips, it was then you decided it was the perfect time to show Matty his final gift.

“Okay, I've got one more present for you handsome” You smirk at Matty and stand from the sofa, hurrying towards your bedroom, brimming with anticipation. 

“Baby, we said only one gift each!” Matty shouts after you. He tries to sound stern, but he can't help the smile that sneaks on his face as he speaks, and it's clear as day in his voice. 

“You’ll like it, I promise” You peek your head around the corner and wink at Matty before scurrying off again, leaving him confused but certainly curious. 

5 minutes later, Matty hears you coming down the stairs and turns his head to see you, but snaps it right back when he hears you shout, “Okay, keep your eyes closed!!” he giggles to himself but follows your instructions, shutting his eyes tight. 

“Okay sweetheart, all closed” Matty yells back. He listens for you coming in and has to fight the urge to open them as soon as he feels your presence. 

Matty is pretty sure he could pick you out of a lineup blindfolded, from the first moment he met you he had memorised how you feel around him. He took note of the lingering jasmine that followed you wherever you went and the feeling of warmth that surrounded you.

“Open,” you say shyly. 

As Matty blinked open his eyes, and immediately his face scrunched in confusion. He was expecting you to be standing in front of him with a box in your arms, but there was no sign of you.

Or he thought there wasn't, until he felt a warm hand on his thigh and flicked his eyes downwards. 

“Fuck.” he grunted, staring down at you in awe. 

You were on your knees between his legs, dressed in only bright red lacy lingerie. Delicate bows sat at the top of the straps, in the centre of your chest, and at the waistband of your panties, with thin straps trailing over your collarbones. The lace was transparent, highlighting your pebbled nipples and weepy cunt. Matty could see the darker maroon lace of your panties and could feel himself salivating at the sight.

His stance widened instinctively, and you slid closer to him, already tracing his thigh with a featherlight touch. Red gloves cover your hands to match, the satin shining from the fairy lights spread around the room.

Also coordinating was your makeup. Matty watched your cherry-red glossy lips part as you palmed over his trousers, moaning obnoxiously at the feeling.

“What do you think, babe?” you ask sweetly, smiling at Matty and fluttering your mascara-coated eyelashes at him. Your hands unzip his trousers and fight to pull them down. Matty lifts his hips thoughtlessly, helping you tug down his slacks. He sits watching you with his jaw dropped, his hands itching to touch you.

But he stayed frozen, not wanting to take over your little surprise just yet.

Your sticky burgundy lips leave marks in your wake as you press kisses to his thigh, the gloss sticking to his leg with each peck. The tip of your tongue teases against his skin, running between the smears of red you left behind. 

With a pout, you sit back, pulling a frustrated groan from deep within Matty’s chest.

That was the final straw for him. You coming out dressed like that, all pretty and ready for him already had him fighting the instinct to throw you on this sofa and fuck you until you're sobbing.

But you teasing him with wet, barely-there kisses? He couldn't fucking cope.

He can't keep his hands to himself anymore, one shooting to your hair and gripping it firmly. The tug on your scalp causes a hiss to escape your scarlet lips, followed by a needy moan.

Matty had recently admitted to you that he had discovered a new kink, dumbificiation. also known as; you playing innocent and stupid as he fucked you ruthlessly and called you a cock-drunk slut. so you decide to play it up for him, indulge him in his fantasy.

“Will you show me how to suck you off? Please, sir, I need some help.” You whimper desperately, pleading eyes staring up at Matty. 

You both know you're lying, but somehow, that makes it even hotter for Matty, and he can feel his boxers tightening further.

“Oh is that right, angel?” Matty says with a chuckle, pulling at your hair harshly and forcing another whimper out of your kiss-bitten lips.

“Well I guess I’ll just have to tell you what to do. can you do that, baby? Listen to my instructions?” Matty looks down at you with faux sympathy, even pouting at you teasingly.

He moves his hand to paw at your chest, twisting a nipple cruelly, awaiting your response. 

Any chance at you forming a coherent sentence was gone as soon as you dropped to your knees. Seeing Matty's eyes go black and his breath beginning to quicken made your mind blank, the only thought left was his name over and over.

Matty's other hand moved to your face, caressing your cheek carefully and watching the pink bloom across them. You settle into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut as you do. 

But a harsh slap makes you snap them right back open, the red print of his hand leaving a welt on your face. Tears brim in your eyes, and a needy whimper escapes you, involuntarily clenching your thighs at the feeling. 

“F-fuck” you splutter, already feeling tears fall down your cheek. Matty brings his hand back, and you flinch, sucking in a harsh breath, preparing for the impact. 

But nothing comes. 

Just the warmth of his palm against your flushed cheeks, you quiver at the contact. A sly smile takes over his features before his face settles back into a pout.

“Sorry baby, but you have to keep your eyes on me. How else are you gonna learn, hmm?” Matty teases cruelly, smirking at your fast, needy nods. His mind was spinning at the sight in front of him, his girlfriend so ready and needy for him.

“Oh baby, you can't even speak, huh? Well, if you can't do that, then you are definitely too dumb to understand any instructions, aren't you?” Matty asks, smiling at the pathetic cry that leaves your lips at his questions, embarrassed at the pool that is forming between your legs with each word he utters. 

“That's what I thought baby, let me look after you. I’m gonna fuck your mouth instead, okay? fuck you stupid yeah? Or, more stupid I should say.” He snickers at your face, admiring the hazy look in your eyes. Already slipping into subspace without even really touching him. 

You nod rapidly at him, already eagerly opening your mouth. Matty pulls himself out of his boxers, and you have to fight the ragged groan that threatens to escape you at the sight. 

Hot beads of precum dribble down his shaft, his tip red and angry. You can feel the saliva pooling on your tongue. Matty groans as he grabs his cock and brings it to your lips, but he manages fights the urge to push into your throat for a few more seconds. Determined to torture you a little more.

Matty taunts you by tapping his tip against your bottom lip, smirking at the stings of gloss that come between you, watching the streams of red fall down your chin. A breathless moan from you has Matty grinning before slipping into your greedy throat. 

He grunts at the warm and wet feeling that surrounds him, starting slowly as he ruts into you.

Soon enough, his hips start to snap harshly, increasing in pace as he throws his head back with a wrecked groan. Each plunge into your throat happened faster than the last, and Matty chuckled darkly at the feeling of you drooling around him already.

the sensation drove matty insane. He used to dream of you like this for him, and seeing it in reality was something he would never get used to. all those nights of him fucking his first and whimpering your name were a distant memory as discordant moans left his bitten lips.

“That's it. Fucking take it." demanded Matty, pounding your throat mercilessly. He watches the spit bubble at the corner of your mouth and dribble down your chin onto your chest, wetting your tits as it falls. 

With a hash thrust, Matty forces himself all the way down your throat and holds himself there, gripping the back of your head brutally. He feels you constricting around him, choking on his cock as you fight for air. 

His grip tightens, and he pulls you forward even further, beaming to himself as you cough and sputter around him. You feel drunk from arousal, loving the way Matty is using you like a fuck toy, only considering his own pleasure.

You feel fingers weave in your hair, and he pulls you off harshly, laughing sadistically at the hurried breaths you suck in.

“Not my fault you don't know how to suck me off, if you're too fucking brainless to know what to do then I’ll do what I want.” He forces himself back in your waiting mouth, thrusting frantically and grunting.

Obscene noises fill the air around you, wet and sticky as he fills your throat. But you swallow around him obediently, like you can't get enough of his cock. Drooling around his dick was where you were meant to be, being the submissive slut he always dreamt of.

Matty stares down at you like you were a mirage, what the fuck did he do to get this lucky?

Your lips were stretched and swollen around him, your cheeks hollowed. Each time you hum around Matty he feels his hips stutter, the vibration almost sending him over the edge. 

Streams of black mascara roll down your cheeks, and Matty moves his hand to wipe at them, marvelling at the dark streaks they leave behind. A red ring sat at the base of his dick from your lipstick. His unrelenting force meant all around your mouth was stained red. 

Any lipstick that was on your lips was smudged over the lower half of your face. It matched the hand-shaped mark Matty left on your cheek perfectly. 

He worked at a punishing pace, and with each thrust in your mouth, Matty felt himself teetering on the edge of bliss. But when your hand came up to play with his balls, pulling at them gently and massaging them with your warm hands, Matty was done for. 

“I'm gonna cum. Fuck- can I cum on your pretty face baby? I want to finish off your beautiful makeup.” a garbled yes from you was all the permission Matty needed, pulling out of your mouth and stroking his dick furiously.

You keep your mouth wide open, panting and holding eye contact with Matty, practically begging him to cum. His muscles tense as shockwaves grip his body, stars dancing across his vision.

Hot spurts of white cum fall over your face, painting your cheeks and lips. Streams fill your mouth, and you moan greedily as they do. Streaks of cum fall over your eyelashes, weighing them down as you stare up at Matty hungrily. 

His chest heaves as he looks down at you like an artist stares at their masterpiece, his cum painting your face was akin to looking at the mona lisa for Matty. He threw his head back against the cushions and fought to catch his breath.

Matty's body was limp as you crawled onto his lap, bracketing his hips with thighs and kissing him furiously. Smearing his face with his cum.

He has the fleeting thought that this might be the filthiest blow job he's ever received, smiling into the kiss at the idea.

a slurp fills with air as he sucks on your tongue, tasking the distinctly musky taste that always lingers. You both pull away, panting with Cheshire-cat-like grins on your face.

With a huff, you collapse next to Matty, who is already wiping your face with tissues carefully, staring at you with adoration as he does. 

Balled-up tissues get thrown on the table as you snuggle into Matty's side. He sucks in a shaky breath before speaking.

“Well that was definitely a white Christmas, wasn't it, baby?” he laughs at the groan you let out, burrowing your face into his neck as your cheeks burn.

“Fucking hell. I can't believe I just let you fuck my face, and you say that afterwards." you mumble into his neck, pressing kisses to the collum of his throat.

“Mmm you love me” he teases, pinching at your side playfully.

“You’re lucky I do” you say, pulling back with a smile.

[bitingdrivers]

Bones AU

Recently my brainrot got to the point of me mashing two of my favorite things together, so I present you this Bones AU I cooked up

If you never seen Bones here's a excerpt from Wiki:

The show is a forensics and police procedural in which each episode focuses on an FBI case file concerning the mystery behind human remains brought by FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth to the forensic anthropology team of Dr. Temperance "Bones" Brennan

So now that you know what Bones is, here's my thoughts on the characters (get ready. I have a lot of thoughts)

Max as Dr. Brennan

Max is forensic anthropologist (one of the best in the World!). He is cold and rational (love is a chemical reaction). He comes off as a little off putting and doesnt get social cues or customs.

In the show Dr. Brennan is also a renown writer with a best seller book series. I'm not sure I can see Max in this role, but I desperately want to keep the plot of the episode with lab being a club every character works at (in the episode Brennan writes a story about a club called The Lab and reads it out loud to Booth who is in a coma)

A very important part of Brennan's character is the fact that she is an orphan. Her parents left her and her brother alone when they were teens. I think in this au Max can also be an orphan, but unlike Brennan, his father will not be redeemed. My idea is Max's father was actually a really dangerous fugitive and his family had to run away and hide from him. And maybe in order to hide her kids from Jos she decided to put them in the system. Maybe she comes back later and then tries to mend their relationship (basically the plot between Brennan and her father in the show)

Daniel as Agent Booth

Daniel is a fbi agent and a former sniper (also one of the best) who went through war. He is emotional and up beat, goes by gut feeling and loves to joke around. Daniel is a pop culture fan and loves sports. He is the one to "thaw" Max out. Gives Max little pet names (Bones, Maxy, Maximus).

At the start of their relationship Max and Daniel argue a lot because of their different views on life and Daniel sometimes thinks that Max is emotionless and doesn't have empathy. But when they start getting closer, Daniel starts seeing Max as a caring and emotional person that he is.

In the show Booth's character is built on his role as a protector. His father is an alcoholic who used to abuse him and his little brother Jared. Maybe Daniel is the same in this au, but I'm not sure I want to make Daniel's father an abuser. but this au is still in the works so.

Charles as Angela Montenegro

Charles is an expert on computers and reconstruction of victims identities / crimes. He is a free soul, an artist who never really wanted to work with dead bodies and only does it to help his best friends Max and to make enough money to go to Paris and live his artistic life full of sex, muses and parties.

Charles is very emotional and empathetic, but also impulsive and doesn't stay in one place for a long time.

Carlos as Dr. Hodgins

I'm not completely sure about this casting but the relationships with other characters work really well. idk I need to think about this more.

Carlos is an entomologist, botanist, and mineralogist. Most of the time he is very calm, but when it comes to things and peoke he loves he can be described as enthusiastic and eccentric.

A big part of Hodgins' character in the show is his upbringing. Hodgins' family is millions rich and is one of the sponsors of the Jefferson University and the lab. But I don't really see Carlos as a millionaire (even if Hodgins himself doesn't act like that). The part of the rich sponsor family in my mind belongs to Strolls (obviously), so maybe Carlos is a normal guy. idk

Also an important thing is Charles and Carlos relationship. It is very sexual at the start but after some rocky moments they build a very loving and strong relationship.

Oscar as Zack Addy

Oscar is studying to be a forensic anthropologist. He is truly a Max's student. He sees Max as his true mentor and role model. Oscar is very smart and a little nerdy about it. He also is rational and calm, but very impressionable due to his young age.

Has a very close relationship with Carlos because they live together (Oscar lives in the attic of Carlos' house) and work in the same office.

Lando as Sweets

Lando is a young fbi psychologist who was assigned to Max and Daniel to asses their relationship and then basically imprinted on the pair. Lando is a geek, he often makes references to pop culture and freaks out over a new Avatar movie. He is also very awkward and vaguely intimidated by Daniel at the start of their sessions.

Lewis as Cam

Lewis is a coroner. Despite being the official boss of the lab, he and Max basically run things together. He is cool and approachable down to earth boss, but very strict about the rules and paperwork. He and Max have a small rivalry (bones vs flesh thing) .

Other characters

The rest of the grid will be squinterns (squint interns) and other workers of the institute!!

I imagine George as Clark, a very reserved and serious guy who tries to keep things professional, but turns out to be a big gossip.

Seb plays the role of Gordon Gordon. A weathered psychiatrist who has to sort Max's and Daniel's relationships.

I think I'll end this post here because there's so many things I can talk about. Maybe I'll make another post about squinterns. OK hope you liked it bye

[maxcuntstappen]

checo spends more time than anyone with lestappen what with cooldown rooms interviews, barging into Max’s drivers room unannounced etc etc

So he just, accepts Charles presence as The Constant in the world. And So when lestappen can’t talk right away he actually finds himself in interesting strat convos with Charles. Leading to them talking abt random stuff until Max steals charles away once again

So recently, with Charles being gone. He’s a bit confused? like max is but slightly less. Like?? who’s he supposed to talk to now?? Max? All they’re gonna do is talk about Charles!!

Well, that doesn’t sound to bad actually. So they do. And whoever the third is just has to sit there and take the convo of the two red bulls lamenting about how they miss charles and charles should be here and charles is so cool and on and on

(idk also in my mind they go out for drinks after races sometimes :) for funsies)

"Sooo..." Checo starts, before awkwardly trailing off.

Max blinks at him, once, twice.

And then Checo needs to look away because there's only so much time a man can stare at Max's nearly-too-blue eyes without finding themself stuttering and stumbling.

Checo has had to learn this the hard way.

The race has only just finished. A Red Bull 1-2. A good day at the office.

There's just one thing missing.

The wrong colour race suit hovers around them.

Maybe Checo had begun taking Charles' presence for granted.

Relied on him being around too much, too often. Being way too comfortable with the other two doing the talking and socialising and letting it wash over him, chipping in if he wanted to.

But otherwise, just chilling out.

Neither Max nor him know what to do now.

Standing around in a loose circle, shuffling their feet, waiting for the interviews to begin.

The silence is anything but comfortable.

Checo needs to do something.

Needs to say something.

Now.

"So, Max, what about Charles' last lap overtake, huh?"

The effect is instant; blue eyes lighting up, hands taking flight.

"Mate," Max begins, and then he's off, talking a mile a minute.

And it's comfortable. Familiar. Checo cannot help but smile, relaxing into it.

If either of them had paused, or perhaps even cared, to notice. They would notice the third place man grumbling as he walked off, "You have to be fucking kidding me."

[prince-liest]

Honoring @abstractsplat's idea of Alastor absolutely hating the slippery texture of silk sheets, because it just makes sense that Vox would be buying those. All iterations of Alastor cannot pass up the opportunity to mock Vox, regardless of gender. unu