#nah I'll just edit the tags

[lemonduckisnowawake]

"There's a thin line between suicide and sacrifice, you know?" Z hissed, stabbing the table in front of her with her dagger.

A smiled in spite of himself at her antics, folding his arms and leaning back. "Not really, actually," he refuted, nodding at the knife. "Suicide is wanting to die. Sacrifice is being willing to die. Both deaths can be driven by outside forces, both may require the clear knowledge of expending your own life, and both can even have to willingness go die. But sacrifice never wants death; it only wants life that perhaps must take its own to preserve it."

Z stared at A for a long monet, mimicking his pose before dropping it.

"Right, then which are you, A?"

The man in question closed his eyes, unwilling to meet the ones piercing into his.

"....I'm still trying to figure that one out, actually," he admitted.

[vaggieslefteye]

CHARLIE MAGNE from HAZBIN HOTEL (2019): Pilot - "That's Entertainment" ↳ "So, I've been thinking: Isn't there a more humane way to hinder overpopulation here in Hell? Perhaps we can create an alternative way to change souls through... redemption?"

[juustozzi]

full of anxiety & ready to blow

[arachnidcakery]

🌸 Meet the Artist thing ! woa h :0

(I've honestly been wanting to make one of these for ages, but finally actually finished one yesterday <3 (´꒳`))

[arttsuka]

post oc lore king/queen !!

😭 I don't really have lore tbh, mostly vibes. Everything is too underdeveloped for lore

I have vague ideas of what I want my ocs to be.

For example, I want to put these guys in a 'time travel' kinda situation, where a murder takes place (that phone guy, who was the only one who knew how to help them get back in their time).

The only thing worse than their designs are the names

[rotisseries]

i have GOT to stop going and checking out the notes on... that one post.... but it's CRAZY to me that people keep reblogging it very seriously being like "HOW CAN PEOPLE LIKE HENRY HE MURDERED 20 CHILDREN"

you mean the fictional child murder?? you mean the fake fictional child murder?? you mean the fake fictional telekinetic sci fi child murder by fake fictional telekinetic sci fi murder man on fake fictional telekinetic sci fi horror netflix show stranger things??? YOU MEAN THAT FAKE MURDER???

no you're so right there's never once been a history of fandoms liking a guy even if he did a bit of fake fictional murder what an insane concept

[caterpillarinacave]

You gather your nerves a moment, which is fair, strange doors have not been so innocuous for you as of late, then creep up to the establishment and push open the door, it gives easily and quietly you slip in, behind the door is small hallway with thick curtains you brush aside, you're looking at a small illuminated room that you would guess is the entrance to the museum, but there's no one manning the front, you call out and knock on the desk yet no answer, you've already come this far so you go further in.

At first it's just pictures on the walls in moderately open spaced windowless rooms, the pictures themselves are interesting, supposed creatures sighted, this places versions of UFO's and Bigfoot's, but also nothing you haven't flipped past in the books you've been searching, the next room is the same and you're beginning to feel the weight of your trespassing misconduct the longer you linger, the museum seems to be set up in a circle so if you keep going forward you should end up back at the front so you move on, the next room has a large curtained off display that takes up most of the back wall, your curiosity piqued you move to pull aside the curtain, the fabric is soft and slides beneath your fingers, you raise it just enough to see a picture on the wall of a strange landscape, short blue and grey plants and a dusty pink sky, in the picture is a smiling man holding a book and looking passed the camera, on his jacket dangles a white key...

"May I ask for an explanation?! Our door is closed for the night hours."

You drop the curtain and turn to find an older gentleman looking at you from across the room, he seems irritated and mildly alarmed, you hurriedly apologize and explain the door was open and rush to ask about the display behind the curtain, he is not impressed with your questions and asks that you leave, realizing your unfortunate situation you acquiesce and ask for the hours you can visit instead, he gives you a time and pointedly tells you the cost of the entrance fee as well, you head back to your friends place, your heart in your throat, this is the closest you've been to figuring out what to do next in almost a week, the itchy paranoia of last worlds government catching you shadowing your every move.

You reach your friends place, they're still out probably picking up dinner, you are still caught off guard at times by how similar this place is to your world, sure their versions of things are a little odd, the tv is circular, doorframes rounded out, other little oddities, it's all so similar though you may as well just be in another country maybe, with a strange accent.

You decide to take this moment to add to your journal and look over your things, while you did a quick inventory check when you first got here you haven't checked the items themselves until now.

Your walkie crackles when you flip it on, same as ever.

Your phone remains serviceless but fills its charge when you turn it on and off. Interestingly you notice it trying to pick up a wifi signal and when you check there seem to be a couple networks nearby, locked though.

The funnel still amplifies the noises around you and you hear the neighbors discussing something on the tv next door as clearly as if they were speaking to you. When you look through the funnel you don't notice anything. You hold it back up to your ear listening to all the different things around you and pull out the spinning top, as soon as the top hits the table the noise disappears, confused you look at the funnel and then listen again, but no noise, the top falls over and the noise returns. Strange.

The berries taste fresh and make you feel better, but you are running low even though you resupplied a bit before leaving.

The dog tags seem unchanged and your key and whistle seem the same as ever.

When your friend gets back you ask about the wifi, they call it something else, but once you parse it out they help you set it up. Your phone can now access their version of the internet so your friend shows you a program to message them just in case. They also give you a device to keep in your pocket that connects you to the wifi wherever you go, so you can contact them while you're out and about. You tell them about the museum you saw earlier, how you think it may be a lead, and the old man running the place. They seem excited for you and make plans to join you tomorrow to go see it.

You go to bed that night thinking of your plans for the morning and turn over the strange dreams or images you remember from when you passed through the door. You slip off into an uneasy sleep, gold threads weave from dream to dream until you stand before an open doorway of light, something about this doorway is wrong though, you can feel it, you reach out to touch, the crackles of energy electrifying the air...someone reaches out and stops you, you can't see their face but you hear them as if through water. You can almost make out the words...you know they're speaking to you, you just can't hear it well enough.

You turn to them, but you still can't see anything but their lips, it looks like their telling you to stop...to go...you can't make it out.

"...op...ea...G...ome!"

With that last echoing and indecipherable shout you awaken to the dark room, the walkie crackling from where you left it.

"S....l....o...h..." You fumble with it a second but the sounds die out no longer sounding like anything but static again. You don't end up sleeping much after that.

The next day you both head out to go to the museum. You take a minor detour to check the Door, but when you get close you see the alley has been blocked off, you notice some people from the last dimension around, their odd features sticking out to you but hidden away to fit in with the locals.

You cross the street with your friend and try to stay inconspicuous. Probably best stay away from here going forward.

You guys make it to the museum and head inside where the old man from last night mans the desk, your friend pays for the tickets and he hands them to you along with a pamphlet.

You don't bother looking at all the things you saw last night, your friend follows though obviously intrigued by the pictures. You reach the curtained wall and pull back the fabric, but find there's nothing there, dusty spots frames may have hung and empty tables where things had obviously been displayed are all that's left.

In shock you stand confused, your friend catches up and looks behind the curtain curious, you explain it's all gone, they seem befuddled as well. Obviously the content behind the curtain has been moved but it can't be far right? Maybe it's just in the back. Either way, it feels like someone is hiding something from you. You notice a door leading to the back that's for employee's.

Do you go through the door?

yes

[randomsloredrops]

now, i've got a fr fr real question. which lore drop is next? cause, like, chronologically, it SHOULD be alphys, but I fucking forgot about peak grandpa gerson and his stories.

like, it's either gerson or alphys, and I'm an indecisive dumbass, so uh... y'all pick, if you see this.

[foodtruckery]

I've been having crazy Stancest brain rot thinking about an AU where they don't have the portal incident and instead have crazy marathon hate sex instead (Inspired by some amazing art by @CoreArde on Twitter) and I thought it'd be fun to share that with you.

They start off arguing in the lab and then oops they're fucking on the lab floor, and they really should be thinking this through but nope now they're upstairs fucking on the kitchen table and okay maybe now they'll finally talk about it nah, they're fucking in Ford's bed now.

It starts off as rough hate sex getting out years of frustration, but by the time they make it to the kitchen its become insanely desperate and cloying because they missed each other, and their bodies fit so well together, and GOD how could they have not been doing this all time? They're going at it so long that they basically end up passed out in Ford's bed by the end, and Stan's not going to be sitting down for a while after this. He's probably just happy to be sleeping in a bed, but Ford is trying to figure out how he got so far from the initial plan.

Even better if the two of them have been harboring feelings for years and never acted on it, because they get the one-two punch of all the weight of their time apart and processing the fact that OH GOD I JUST FUCKED MY BROTHER (which of course they both wanted to do but still).

I have no idea what would happen after that, but both of them waking up sore, sweat soaked, sticky with cum (some still inside Stan because of course Ford didn't use a condom this wasn't supposed to happen) after having gone at each other like rabbits in heat despite never having expressed their attraction to each other before is a hilarious and hot idea to me. What do you think?

HI THERE ANON. i am so fucking sorry that i left you waiting for so long about this, but i need you to know it's because i was FUCKING OBSESSED with this. like just absolutely beside myself over it, and i refused to respond until i had a chance to sit down and respond PROPERLY.

cause uh YEAH FRIEND i know the exact fucking piece of art (explicit) you're talking about, because it's INCREDIBLE. and in case you didn't know, the artist is over here too and shares some fucking fantastic writing and headcanons also! (seriously, go check out @/cartoonsinthemorning if you haven't. and cart, i hope you don't mind that anon and i both kinda lost our minds about your art over here! i genuinely have no idea what tag etiquette is on this site and didn't wanna bombard you, but you did this. again.)

i'll be honest, anon, this kinda got away from me (fucking shocker) and i am too tired to do any legit editing of it right now, so please forgive any typos or weirdness! i'll try and clean it up before it eventually goes up on ao3. but thank you for such a LOVELY ask because this was so hot, and so inspiring, and i hope i did a little justice to your idea and cart's gorgeous art!

--- Ford isn't entirely sure how it had started. His memory, his perception of time, his ability to follow a linear order of events -- all if it is less than reliable at the moment, so he can't entirely blame himself for losing track of things here and there. But the jump between trying to wrestle his journal out of Stan's hands to trying to wrestle Stan out of his dingey jeans is a jarring transition to lose in the dull static that's been edging around his awareness for weeks now. 

Not jarring enough to stop him, though. 

He thinks, vaguely, while he's blindly tugging at Stan's denim, that there's a concerningly high likelihood that he's hallucinating. His head is swimming in so much caffeine and adrenaline that he doesn't even feel the rough concrete of the lab floor under his knees -- maybe that isn't where he is? Maybe he'd nodded off without realizing. Maybe he's going to come to with another lapful of polaroids and a new humiliating tattoo. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe -- he can reckon with a probability model later. For the first time in what feels like months, the stability of his perceived reality is not actually at the forefront of Ford's mind.

Pressing in on him harder than the doubt, harder than the disassociation from his physical body, and harder than the threat of the creature lingering in the depths of his subconscious is anger. It feels like a beacon in the muddled, fuzzy mess inside his head, something bright and real and his. It's searing through him, slicing away all the frayed edges of his paranoia and doubt like a hot blade through so much butter. 

Ford clings to the sharp edges of that anger and feels more alert than he has in weeks. 

He can't remember how their bickering had taken this particular turn, but if he's liable to lose his eyes and his life in the next few days, Ford will be fucking damned if he squanders the opportunity. He knows he's made a mess of things, that he's made the sorts of mistakes that can't and frankly shouldn't be forgiven. 

But he also knows with blinding, white hot certainty that he's only here, now, because of Stan's mistakes.

Ford may not deserve absolution, but he does deserves this. 

Laughter cuts through the lab, rough and mocking, and Ford's attention finally falls, properly, on Stan. He has a bruise blooming on his cheek and a snide smirk twisting his lips. He's also on his back, his jeans and a threadbare pair of boxers bunched in Ford's fists and pulled so low he can see the tight curls of his pubic hair and the root of his cock. 

"What's wrong, Poindexter?" Stan asks, mocking, and it's only then that Ford realizes he's paused halfway through stripping his twin's lower half. The bite of the cold concrete under his knees still feels far away, but the rough material in his palms, and the heat of Stan's body so close to him are sharp, clear details. "No hands on experience with a dick that ain't your own? Afraid you might actually be bad at somethin' for once?" 

Ford narrows his eyes, feeling the hot point of anger cutting through him, steadying him, and he jerks Stan's clothes hard enough that he gets the material past his knees in one tug. Stan laughs at him again, but it stutters into a little 'oof!' when Ford flips him onto his stomach. 

He doesn't care that Stan's pants are still caught around his calves and his boots. He doesn't care that Stan hisses something that sounds like pain when he's yanked onto his knees and dragged backwards several inches across the concrete. He doesn't even care that, once upon a time, he'd dreamed of this, of crossing this line with the only person he'd ever really loved in any way that mattered, and it's nothing like the softer, sweeter picture he used to imagine. 

Stan's hips are soft, and the skin gives easily under the iron grip Ford has on them, holding him in place as he grinds against his ass. Even through his slacks, the heat of Stan's body is intense, addictive, and he grinds forward again, harder, watching the friction rub a pink  patch against his skin. 

Stan, shameless and selfish as always, pushes eagerly back against him. Ford has barely done anything beyond rocking the outline of his cock against his hole, but he can hear Stan panting against the ground, can see his hands curling into fists. He remembers how many times Stan had called Carla McCorkle "easy" in high school and thinks, now, that the easy one had been his brother. 

"You gonna keep humpin' me, or are you gonna fuck me?" Stan demands, rocking as firmly back as he can with the bruising grip Ford has on him. 

"What makes you think you deserve that?" Ford bites out. It would serve Stan right, he thinks, if he got himself off exactly like this, no different than grinding against a particularly firm couch pillow. Just a conveniently warm object for Ford to release some tension with. 

Stan looks back over his shoulder and flashes teeth at him. It isn't a smile. "Oh, I get it. Cold feet? Well, we can just chalk it up to one more thing ya promised and then backed out of as soon as you actually had to make a choice. Good to know some things never change, Stanford."

He's being goaded, and Ford knows that. But the anger boils in his chest, and he thinks, why should he care about what Stan does or doesn't deserve from him? This is about what Ford deserves.

And what Ford deserves is to have his dick so far up Stan's ass he'll be able to feel it in the back of his throat. 

"Do you ever shut up?" he snaps while he releases one of Stan's hips to yank his slacks open. The bruise of his fingerprints already forming against Stan's skin thrills him, almost to distraction, if it weren't for Stan laughing again. 

"'Course not," he says, shifting his center of balance to dig into the pocket of his dirty red coat. The little packet he tosses over his shoulder bounces off his own ass to land by Ford's knee, the word LUBE printed in large, bold letters across the front. He should be surprised to see it, and part of him is. The word "easy" comes to mind again. 

Ford rips the packet open with his teeth. 

"F-Fuck!" Stan curses, turning his forehead against the ground when Ford presses his slick cock into him a moment later without warning. 

Ford grabs him roughly by the waist when he twitches forward and yanks Stan back until his ass hits the open fly of his slacks. He makes a choked sound at that and turns his face into the crook of his own arm when Ford pulls back and rocks hard back into him. 

"What's wrong, Stanley?" he parrots. He pistons his hips at a punishing pace, watching his cock pumping in and out of the greedy, grasping ring of Stan's hole. "Nothing to say?" 

Stan makes a noise that's too muffled by the sleeve of his coat to understand, so Ford reaches down to take a fistful of his stupid mullet instead. The hitching gasp that escapes his twin when his head is forcefully jerked up makes him groan. "What was that? Come on, Stanley, use your words." 

"F-Fuck off," Stan says, his voice strained, almost whining. 

"I see you haven't gotten anymore eloquent since you left," Ford scoffs around the breathlessness in his own voice, feeling the anger and pleasure coiling harder in his gut. "What was it you said? Good to know some things never change." 

When he pulls Stan's hair again, just because he can, Stan moans. And when he shifts his hips, driving in just as hard at the new angle, Stan shouts. With his own knees bracketed on either side of his, Ford can feel the way his thighs tremble when he clenches around his cock, and he can feel the sweat beading up under his palm where he's digging darker bruises into Stan's side. 

Ford feels like he's on the edge of delirium again, consumed by every sound Stan makes, every twitch of his hips, every ounce of his heat. He thinks, a bit wildly, that Stan may have been made for this, made to take his cock, for how well he does. 

It isn't until Stan jerks under him, going hot and tight around his cock and making a strangled noise in the back of his throat, that Ford realizes he may have said part of that out loud. That Stan came over it. 

He groans low in his throat and thrusts half a dozen more times into Stan's clenching hole before he comes as well. 

It's quiet for a few minutes other than their ragged panting, but it's Stan who eventually reaches back and swats at Ford's hand until he lets go of his hair. He takes the hint and pulls out, watching with no small amount of satisfaction as his come trickles down Stan's thighs. It strikes him suddenly that he wants to follow the wet trail back up with his tongue. It's enough to make his cock give a feeble, appreciative twitch. 

He isn't sure if he's just terribly distracted or if he loses time again, because when Ford next lifts his head, Stan is on his feet, pants pulled up around his waist but still open, and he has his journal in hand. This might be more jarring than the last transition he'd lost. 

"What are you doing?" he demands, shoving himself back onto his own feet. He doesn't bother to tuck his cock back in, and he spots the moment Stan's eyes flick down. It's brief, but he'd seen it. 

"What does it fucking look like I'm doing? I'm taking your stupid diary and disappearing like you begged me to," Stan says. His voice is still a little raw, and Ford has a moment to realize how much he likes that, before the words catch up. 

He scoffs. "Oh! So now you want to actually help?! Is it always this easy to fuck the sense into you?" 

Stan's expression does a few things Ford doesn't understand before his brows ultimately slam down and he turns his back, storming towards the door with Ford's journal still in hand, and Ford himself hot on his heels. "You're fucking unbelievable, Stanford, you know that?!" 

"Me?! You're the one who came all over my lab floor and then decided he was ready to be reasonable!" 

Stan jams his thumb against the call button for the elevator several times in quick succession, despite the car already being on their floor and the gate sliding open. "Most people would just say thank you when someone agreed to help them out, but not you! What does Stanford Pines have to be grateful for? We're all just fucking lucky to get a task from ya, huh?" 

Ford crowds into the elevator with him before Stan can try to pull the gate or call the doors shut behind him. He punches the button to take them up himself, before making a grab for the journal, snarling when Stan leans back and holds it up above his head. 

"You're the one who threatened to destroy my work twenty minutes ago, Stanley! Why would I trust you with it now? Hell, I can't figure out why I trusted you enough to bring you here in the first place!" 

"Oh really? You can't?" Stan sneers, leaning in close. And when Ford takes a step back, Stan follows, backing him into a corner of the car. "I don't think you fuckin' trusted me to do shit, Stanford. I think you were all outta options cause nobody else could stand to put up with you anymore." 

Stan doesn't so much as hit a nerve as he takes a sledgehammer to it, and as soon as the elevator dings, Ford shoves him as hard as he can out into the study. Stan yelps when he stumbles, nearly tripping over his own feet, and it's only knocking into a cluttered desk that keeps him from falling on his ass. 

Ford doesn't give him any time to right himself, storming in after him and grabbing him by the front of his jacket. Stan flinches, like he'ex expecting a punch, but Ford yanks him in and crushes his mouth against his instead. 

There's a dull thump that Ford only realizes was the journal being dropped when he feels both of Stan's hands on his shoulders. They curl briefly, grasping at him, and Ford feels his mouth starting to go soft and slack. But as soon as he presses in, runs his tongue along that loosening seam, he's suddenly being shoved backwards. 

If he weren't so damn confused, Ford would probably appreciate the picture Stan makes, lips slick and pants open, leaning back against one of Ford's desks. 

"What are you doing?!" Stan demands, like he's the one who doesn't know what day it is, and keeps losing track of events. 

"I would think even you could figure that out after what happened downstairs, Stanley."

Stan flushes, visible even in the low light of the study, though Ford isn't sure if it's embarrassment or anger. The scowl on his face doesn't help clear things up, either, though the fact that he isn't actually looking at Ford is...telling.  

"That ain't happening again," Stan states, and there isn't anything convincing about the way he says it at all. But when Ford steps forward, Stan sidesteps him and the desk. He makes a wrong turn in the dark, in a house he isn't familiar with, and flinches when Ford flips on the light in the kitchen he's walked into.

"I don't know how you expect to leave and hide my journal after leaving it in the study," he points out, frowning at the back of Stan's head. 

He isn't surprised when Stan whirls on him. He is, however, stunned still when he realizes Stan's eyes are wet. 

"What the fuck do you want from me, Stanford?!" Stan shouts, his voice cracking over his name, and it makes something feel like it's cracking inside his chest. 

Ford has to wet his lips when he finds them and his throat dry. "...I told you what I wanted," he says.

"Yeah, you did! And when I finally agreed to do it, you threw a fucking fit about it! And now you're pissy because I'm not?! What do you want?" 

The anger sparks sharply inside him again, and Ford grasps at it like a lifeline, willing to bloody his hands for that bite of stability. 

"You tried to burn it! My life's work! And you only decided you would help me after we--"

Stan cuts him off, looking towards the cabinets while he raises his voice and waves his hands. "Jesus Christ, I'm sorry about the fucking lighter, all right?!"

Ford frowns. He takes a step forward and, still without looking at him, Stan takes a step back. It's the elevator all over again, but this time Ford is pressing in, backing Stan into the cabinets. He grabs the counter on either side of his hips when he tries to side step him again. 

"Stanley, look at me," he demands, frowning harder when Stan sets his jaw and stars determinedly at his shoulder. "Stanley--"

"What do you want, Ford? Just...just fucking tell me and I'll leave, all right?" Stan says, his voice tired and soft as he reaches up to rub a hand over his own face.

He wants a lot, honestly. And hasn't that always been the problem? He's always wanted -- to be normal, to be respected, to be the best, to be special. 

To be wanted. 

To be enough.

To fix things. 

"You," he realizes, watching Stan jerk his head up. His lashes are still wet, and Ford can't stop himself from reaching up and pressing his palm to Stan's cheek, skimming his thumb gently under one of his eyes. 

When he leans in to kiss him again, Stan makes a small, wounded little noise under his mouth, but he parts his lips for Ford's tongue this time. Stan's lips are chapped and he tastes vaguely of stale cigarettes, but Ford is still struck by how soft and sweet he is. 

More than anything else that had happened that evening, this is the moment that Ford knows he should suspect most of all. The way Stan relaxes between him and the counter, the almost tentative way he lifts his tongue to meet his, the careful fingertips touching the edge of Ford's coat and brushing against his loose tie. It's tender in a way Ford didn't think either of them were capable of, and it should be setting off warning bells and red flags in every part of his mind. 

It isn't. 

Ford is more certain of  the reality of this single moment, the gentle slip of Stan's lips against his own, than he's been of anything in a long time. 

And then Stan sighs between them and murmurs, warm and hopeful, "Ford," against his lips, and he's done for. 

It doesn't matter that they just fucked, that Ford's come is probably still drying between Stan's thighs -- he can't keep his hands off of him. Ford is suddenly frantic and desperate in a way that he hadn't been downstairs. He needs to relearn the new, wider shape of Stan's shoulders and pecs. He needs to feel out every new scar and take stock of all the old ones he remembers Stan collecting for him as kids. He needs to be surrounded by him again, soaking in the warmth of him. 

Ford doesn't deserve absolution, but he thinks he may be able to find something close to it in the low, shaky way Stan moans his name. 

And there's familiarity in the way Stan grabs at him in turn, tugging at his jacket and tie and surging into another, harder kiss. Ford thinks he may not be the only one looking for expiation. 

Then Stan drops to his knees between him and the cabinet, and Ford stops thinking so much. His cock is still out, and Stan wastes no time in getting his fist around the shaft and his lips around the head. He suckles and swirls his tongue, and Ford shoves the beanie off of his head to get his hands in his hair. 

"Stanley," he gasps, stroking his fingers along his scalp and fisting the strands between them. 

Stan moans around him and shuffles closer, sliding the seal of his lips further down the length of Ford's cock. All he can do is groan and try to keep from rocking his hips as more of him is greeted by the warmth of his mouth and the wickedness of his tongue. 

He keeps waiting for Stan to reach his limit, to back off and give himself room to breathe. He doesn't. He keeps leaning in, keeps taking him, and then Ford feels his cockhead slip into Stan's throat, sees his lashes are wet again, and he has to put one hand on the counter to keep himself steady. "Fuck, Stanley, you're so good at this."

Stan makes a horribly sweet sound around the girth of Ford's cock and reaches up to hold his hips as he swallows, and Ford is suddenly afraid he's going to embarass himself.  His hips twitch despite his best efforts to keep them still, but Stan simply relaxes his jaw and his throat and tugs a little to encourage him to do it again. He does, of course, how could he not? 

Despite the heat clawing its way through him and the pleasure mounting dangerously high, Ford almost feels outside of himself again. The picture Stan makes, with his eyes damp and heavy lidded, his lips wet and stretched around Ford's cock, his hair fisted in Ford's fingers and his own clinging to Ford's hips -- it's lewd, debauched, and so horribly sweet that it makes Ford's chest hurt. 

Stan gasps raggedly when Ford pulls him off. "I was go-gonna...I mean you can--"

Ford kneels down to kiss him, tasting stale cigarettes and himself, cock throbbing over the rough state of Stan's voice. "Not done yet," he manages, before tugging Stan onto his feet. 

They lose clothes and time on the journey upstairs, tripping over the steps and Ford's discarded pants, and stumbling into his wreck of a room. If Stan notices the state of things, he doesn't comment, mouth latched onto Ford's shoulder and hands all over his back and hips. 

The back of Ford's legs hit the bed and he sits hard on the mattress. Stan doesn't hesitate to crawl up into his lap. He'd lost his boots in the kitchen and his jeans and boxers somewhere on the way to the stairs, giving him ample opportunity to rub his bare cock against Ford's. 

Cursing, Ford rolls his hips and only belatedly remembers to reach up and tug the hideous red coat off of Stan's shoulders. 

"Oh, fuck, hold on. I think I have another one," Stan says, panting softly as he digs into the pockets of his coat. Ford takes the opportunity to run his hands across Stan's thighs and ass, squeezing whatever skin he can until Stan makes a triumphant sound and pulls another little packet of lube free. 

Only then does he let Ford toss his jacket aside and tug him further up the bed with him. He doesn't protest when Ford takes the packet from him, lowering his head to work open mouth kisses up Ford's throat instead, and he rolls his hips distractingly while Ford fights to get the damnable thing open. He ignores the snickering against his skin in the process. 

It stops anyway, hitching into something warm and startled when Ford sinks two slick fingers into him. 

"Oh, fuck," Stan breaths, reaching up to grab Ford by the shoulder, holding himself steady. "Y-You know you don't have to do that, right? Pretty loosened up already."

He is, to be fair. His hole is still soft and loose and fucked open. But Ford enjoys petting his fingers against the tender muscle and stroking them inside anyway. He likes watching Stan bite his lip and push himself back onto his hand. When he slides a third in after the first two, Stan's thighs tremble on either side of his own, and he makes a low, throaty sound. 

When Ford curls his fingers just right, Stan yells and grips his shoulder hard enough to hurt, and it makes warm satisfaction curl in his middle. So he does it a few more times, alternating between spreading his fingers and rubbing the tips against Stan's prostate until he's squirming in his lap. 

"I-I'm gonna come if you don't knock that sh-shit off," he gasps, slumping a bit when Ford chuckles and slides his fingers out. 

"I think I'd like that," Ford says, squeezing his slick fingers against Stan's thigh. 

He snorts and straightens back up, finding the discarded lube packet to squirt the remainder onto Ford's cock. "Yeah, I bet you fucking would," Stan agrees, but there's no malice in his voice, just warm amusement. 

His fist is warm and wonderful when it curls around Ford's cock, spreading lube, and then Ford is being held steady, Stan adjusts himself on his scuffed knees, and there's nothing else to do but hold on as Stan lowers himself into his lap. 

It feels as good as it had earlier to be inside of him, and Ford squeezes the thigh under his hand tightly, fighting against the need to buck his hips. Stan is panting softly, his head tilted back and a pretty, pink color is crawling up from under his t-shirt to flood his neck and face. 

Ford groans and leans forward, finding a nipple through his thin shirt to get his teeth and tongue against.

"F-Ford!" Stan gasps, fumbling the hand not clawing at his shoulder up into his hair, and Ford sucks hard on the firm nub,  rubbing spit-soaked cotton against it with his tongue until Stan rocks in his lap. 

Fuck, he likes that, the way his name sounds in Stan's voice, especially warm and rough after fucking his throat earlier. 

He squeezes Stan's thigh and his hip, giving him a little tug, and that's all the encouragement Stan needs before he's bouncing on his cock. Ford has that thought again -- that Stan was meant to be filled by him, that they're a perfectly matched set. But it isn't just feeling good and hot while Stan fucks himself in his lap. It's feeling like he's been missing something and he finally has it, like he's finally complete again. 

He's missed this, Ford realizes. 

Not the fucking his brother part. He'd fantasized about that for years but it still feels like a dream that it's happening, like something that's too good to be true. 

But being able to put his arms around him? To be this close to him again? 

Ford rocks his hips up, hard, and Stan says his name. He wraps his fingers around Stan's cock, and he gasps his name. He bites the same swollen, pink nipple through his shirt, and Stan shouts his name. 

He snaps his hips up to meet him a few more times and rubs the sensitive glans under the head of Stan's cock, and then there are teeth digging into his other shoulder and his fist and stomach are being striped in Stan's come while he shudders and jerks overtop of him. 

Stan goes easily when Ford rolls them over and pins one of his wrists to the bed. And despite the way he squirms and how his spent cock twitches and leaks, blatantly overstimulated, he hooks his ankles behind Ford's back and urges him on. 

"C-C'mon, give it to me. Fuck, just like that, Sixer!" 

The nickname hits him with all the subtlety of a truck and all the heat of a volcanic eruption. 

He doesn't even remember coming so much as he remembers every synapses in his brain trying to fire at once. Coming back down to reality is a little clearer, with his head spinning and pulse racing as he flops onto his back, but it still takes several long minutes before he feels fully cognizant again. 

Something makes the bed shift, and he looks over to see that Stan has rolled onto his stomach. Ford wonders if he looks half as fucked out as Stan does, with bruises blossoming across his body, his shirt rucked halfway up his stomach, and come staining his ass and thighs. Ford realizes Stan still has his socks on, and he can't figure out why that makes something twinge, hot but exhausted and halfhearted, in his gut. 

"Gonna...gonna get up in a minute," Stan says, his voice slurring and his eyes already closed. Ford watches him rub his cheek against one of Ford's pillows, and the soft sound of snoring follows soon after. 

The reality of the situation starts to settle in shortly after that, and Ford stares wide eyed up at the ceiling as if he'll find some sort of answers there. Unsurprisingly, there are no secrets etched overhead for how to reckon with the fact that he had just fucked his brother, twice, while the fate of the world was still very much hanging in the balance between his fraying sanity and Bill's looming threat. 

".....Fuck," Ford murmurs.

When the adrenaline finishes seeping out of his system, Ford expects to crash. The exhaustion certainly climbs back into his bones, but he's surprised to find himself still clear headed. Focused. 

The sound of Stan sleeping soundly beside him is as soothing as it is mocking, but he doesn't want to separate himself from it even though he knows he needs to get up. There's soft, gray light starting to creep in through the windows, and distant birdsong calling for the start of the day. He needs to readjust, to come up with a new plan, find some way to explain to Stan what's going on so they can buy themselves a little more time. 

Against all odds and his better judgment, there's a tiny, optimistic voice in the back of his head reminding him that there's strength in numbers. He isn't surprised that it sounds like Stan.

[hearts4golbach]

Paparazzi.

pairing:

Billie Eilish x Fem!Reader.

a/n:

reupload since i never got it posted here! not proofread

warnings:

nothin

word count:

1.2k.

you laid in billies bed, scrolling on your phone while simultaneously listening to her work on her new album. you looked through your tagged posts on Instagram, stumbling upon edits of you and billie. the suspicions and rumors of you and her dating were funny, even if they were actually true.

as badly as you wanted to repost some of the cutest edits, you couldn't. you and bil had agreed on keeping the two of you a secret for the sake of your careers.

you crawled out of bed and stood up, one of billies largest shirts was what you were wearing. it was funny, it nearly touched your knees. you stood behind her, wrapping your arms around her neck and showing her a few of the edits you had found.

a small smile grew on her face as she observed. "if only they knew," she placed a kiss on your lips.

you sighed dramatically. "when can we tell everyone? I feel so bad lying to our fans." -you were an artist, too. billie has asked you to collaborate on a song with her and that's how you two met. you quickly fell for eachother, being inseparable ever since.- "they deserve the truth."

billie agreed with you. "yeah, we can announce us soon. I think we'll be okay."

your face lit up, making billies heart beat slightly faster. "really?!"

"yes, mama." you smiled, peppering kisses all over her face. "I was planning on leaking a clip from one of the songs. I'll leak the one about you to prepare everyone. they can have their suspicions for a while."

"I like that idea." you kissed her neck before laying back down on the bed.

you decided to leave not long after. you had your own music to work on, aswell. you shut and locked her front door before walking out to your car. you had just took her shirt with you, not bothering to take it off before you left. you started your car and sped home.

when you got home, you had finally realized the serious mistake you made. you sat on your couch and opened instagram to discover the paparazzi photos from not even an hour ago. you panicked, wondering how they got those photos up that fast.

you stared at yourself in the post. there you were, standing on billies porch in her clothes. the caption read, 'Y/n coming out of billies house in billies clothes?! 😯' you cringed at the text.

you rolled your eyes as you screenshotted it and sent it to billie. she read the message almost immediately and began typing.

bil ❤️: nah

you: should we be worried?

bil ❤️: people can think whatever they want idrc

bil ❤️: and yk I plan to reveal us soon sooo..

you: yeah you're right

bil ❤️: just adding to the suspense baby ;))

and that's what you went with. everyone began reposting the photo of the two of you. it made you anxious. over the next week or so, the hype began to die down.

you and billie snuck out late on a warm Tuesday night and went to dinner.

it was a small, family owned restaurant about 20 minutes away from all of the drama of downtown. it was the safest place you and billie knew.

a small lady immediately seated you and bil. billie relaxed into the chair across from you. "so," she began.

"so?" you asked, intrigued by how she was starting her statement. you impatiently tapped your finger on the glass of water in front of you.

"I want you to be with me whenever I leak the song, and I wanna do it tonight." her leg shook.

the lady came back over to take our orders, interrupting the conversation unknowingly. the two of you hurriedly ordered your food.

"are you asking me to stay the night?" you smiled teasingly.

"well, obviously I am, ma. fuck, I want you to stay over every night." she grinned back.

"I would if I could," I leaned across the table and pecked her lips. "you know that."

she hummed. "maybe we should make that a reality as soon as all of this bullshit is over."

you giggled, watching as she fidgeted with your hand that was laying on the table. "I'd love that."

"then it's a plan."

-

billie laid next to you in her plush bed. you watched her phone carefully as she prepared the clip from her song 'Lunch.' Billie didn't want to leak too much, of course.

you became more anxious by the second, and watching billie work didn't help at all. you opened Twitter to distract yourself. a post you had been tagged in caught your eye. it stated: 'has anyone noticed @y/n.l/n is liking a bunch of posts about her and @billieeilish???!!??! is it just me?!?!'

you soon realized Twitter wouldn't help, either. you gave up, cuddling up closer to billie and going back to watching what she was doing on her phone.

a moment later, she sighed. "okay, you ready?" I could feel anxiety bubbling under her skin. of course, it wasn't the actual announcement, but that didn't mean you weren't slightly terrified. you nodded. "it's posted."

-

two weeks had passed, and the internet was buzzing with speculations. billie gave you permission to tease the announcement, aswell. you and her both wanted as much suspense as possible. you reposted a few edits as well as selfie of you with a song of billies playing in the background.

the day billie wanted to announce your relationship, she woke you up early and took to go get coffee. sitting in the parking lot of Starbucks, billie pulled up her favorite photo of the two of you together.

you watched, anxiously sipping your coffee as she moved the photo to instagram. it was an old photo, it must've been at least 3 years old. she still had her blonde hair and yours was a shade of rusty red. she held your face as she kissed your cheek, while you held a bright smile on your face. she included a few other photos to make a small collage, specifically ominous photos from dates you had been on. you were in a lot of them, of course.

she gripped your hand tightly as she typed the caption with her other hand. 'the love of my life ❤️‍🩹.' it read. she posted it with no hesitation.

she moved her hand to my knee and leaned over to kiss you. "it's done. are you feeling okay?" her voice was soft and soothing, almost like a lullaby.

you smiled. "absolutely."

the comments flooded immediately. everyone was screaming their congratulations and compliments. you scrolled through the first thousand or so, and 99% of them were positive. your heart was nearly beating out of your chest. you sighed, realizing it was finally done and you could post about Billie as you wished.

[haunted-headset]

Wilbur talking about YN at a concert and YN just happened to be streaming and chat told her. Then once wilbur gets back from tour (theyre roommates) YN mentions it and wilbur gets all flustered 🤭

💬 Everybody Talks Too Much 💬

Summary: Wilbur was talking about Y/N at a concert and Y/N happened to be streaming & her chat told her. Then, once Wilbur gets back from the tour, Y/N mentions it & Wilbur gets flustered AF

A/N: guys go follow @joviepog, they're basically one of the reasons you guys get fanfics. Also, this title was based off of a song called Everybody Talks :p

pairing: CC!Wilbur x afab!musician!reader

pronouns used for reader: She/her/hers

tags: @vibestillaxxx @joviepog @ax-y10 @themonsterunderurmom @wilburstan @smolsleepykitten @funnyreally2009 @crows-death @thewheelersgaygaragelights @dykepunz @aresriiots @0miamor0 @cathers-world @defonotval @chipch0p @mazzistar16 @unmellowyellowfellow @justalittlebitofchaos @thosecolorfulsheets @vopix @taylors-version-from-the-vault @aine-lasagna @merianakross @veeislost @urfav-sapphic-siren (pls let me know if you do/don't want to be tagged!)

warnings/cw: reader & Wilbur getting flustered, swearing, mentions of whimpering audios

proofread?: *aggressively shakes head*

genre: fluff

word count: 455

"Do we have to steal Wilbur's YLYL rules again, chat?" You said to your chat with a laugh. "It seems like Wilbur's the only one who can tame you feral fuckers." You were doing a YLYL stream & your fans thought it would be a funny idea to try & send whimpering audios through MediaShare. You were not amused. Just then, a different video had been sent in. You were very prepared to pause the video or have the mods remove it, but you then saw your roommate Wilbur in the video.

"What's this?" You asked with a raised brow. You read the caption of the video, which read, "Wilbur was talking about Y/N during one of his concerts!!!!" You felt your face get hot.

In the video, Wilbur had just finished a song & he said to the crowd, "Guys, I forgot to mention, but shoutout to my roommate Y/N, because they stuck around even though I forget to pay rent half of the time & I bother her with my dumbass rambling! So, yeah, respect for my pretty hot roommate!" He said it so easily as if it were nothing. As if he didn't just call you hot.

"...interesting," you mumbled. The chat was blowing up with 'lol' messages & comments about how red your cheeks were. You didn't really care because you heard a knock at your bedroom door. You were home alone.

"Uh...come in?" you said to the knocking at the door. Wilbur then opened the door. "Wilbur?! You're back from tour?"

"Yeah," he smiled. He became Beardbur again during the tour & he looked very tired. "Sorry, I didn't tell you. I wanted to surprise you."

"Nah, it's fine," you said. "I was too busy to pick you up anyway."

"Wow," Wilbur said sarcastically, placing a hand over his heart & scoffing. "I can't believe that you would prioritize your streams over me!"

"Oh, piss off," you laughed.

"What're you doing?" Wilbur asked, looking at the webcam. He looked at the video & raised a brow.

"We're doing a YLYL stream," you said. "& my chat sent a video of you talking about me during a concert."

His usually pale face went ten shades pinker. "Th-that must've been edited or something-"

"Wilbur, it's fine, I know you're madly in love with me," you said jokingly. He laughed awkwardly.

"Oh well, I'll leave you to your weird chat," Wilbur said as he quickly got up & left the room. You waved goodbye & saw that someone had subscribed & left a message along with the sub.

"WILBUR LIKES YOU! HE SAID SO DURING THE SHOW! I JUST DIDN'T SHOW YOU THAT PART!" The message said.

"...what?" You said softly.

[arkhammaid]

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ THE NEW GENERATION SUPERSTARS | TO A GOOD SEASON

fandom. formula one & mcu

about. ollie and y/n talk for the first time... even if it's over text. takes part right after the strategy reveal

content warnings. smau, not edited/proofread

notes. have this first chapter before i dip into my holidays hehe

hey y/n! i hope you don't mind me reaching out, but i thought it would be good, since we're the only rookies and never properly met :) to a good season!

oh hi oliver! i don't mind at all, thank you for the message. to a good season for us

are you busy with preperations as well?

yeah

ferrari is definitely a step up from f2, haven't had a free minute for weeks now

welcome to f1 lol 😂

leclerc treating you well? it must've been a mess with sainz...

no worries, charles has been very welcoming, i'm really honored to be his teammate. and the thing with carlos... yeah, it was a bit, but we actually get along well

good good, wanna see you racing and not getting distracted by some bitch fighting in the garage

lmao 😂😂

nah nah, all good. to be honest, he's still a bit prickly about how ferrari and lewis handled those rumors... but well, it isn't really my business

good good

have to run, dad wants to wrap up our moves to ny

but we'll see each other soon, yeah? lemme know when you have time for a proper talk, we definitely have to stick together as rookies

the grid can be a cruel world

alright, have a nice day! don't know about free time yet, but the lastes we'll see each other will be in bahrain

awesome, till then oliver :)

you can call me ollie

let's meet up in bahrain

hello to you too, y/n

hello ollie

so, let's meet up

i'll be there a few day earlier, you as well?

i actually planned to come with ferrari, but i can come earlier!

awesome. you can entertain me then :)

what about the rest of your team?

kev is back with his family and doesn't want to leave them too early, my dad is busy because the president is an incompetent fuck, harley and peter are working on publishing a paper before they join and the rest is just generally busy

damn. alright, as long you plan everything? i have nothing prepared lol

sure! we can go training together and i know a few nice places we can hit before the stress begins

great!!

i'll send you the data later, don't worry, i'll pay for the hotel

you really don't have to

i don't care, you're hanging out with me, i will pay for stuff. i know you could stay at home but you're gonna spend time with me so shut it

alright

hehe, until bahrain. can't wait!!

until then, y/n 😊

taglist. @lilypadlover , @adorablezhui , @peqch-pie , @keyz-writes , @obsidianjewel , @themercyverse , @lehm-hhn , @akiraquote , @kiiyoooo , @nichmeddar , @nothingfuninthislife , @minkyungseokie , @fionaschicken , @lyrasconstellation , @spideybv28 , @keii134 , @starssfall , @tpwkstiles , @fangirl-dot-com , @lady-laura-speaks , @nikifiguerido , @hinamesgigantica , @brakingboundaries , @almostjollypizza , @yoremins , @raizelchrysanderoctavius , @celesteblack08 , @watermelon-sugars-things , @lighttsoutlewis , @radiantdanvers , @vellicora , @sterredem , @hiireadstuff , @jolixtreesunn , @mypage-myfandoms , @nelly187 , @greeneyesandsunshine ,  @fulla02 , @welovediaaxx , @whyamireadingthis , @67-angelofthelordme-67 , @blueberry64857959 , @winchesterwife27 , @six-call , @skywalker1dream , @mellowarcadefun , @cherry-piee , @peterholland04 , @motorsportloverf1 , @renarots , @msbyjackal , @leclucklerc , @yl90

crossed off tags mean i can't tag you!

DO YOU WANT TO JOIN THE SERIES TAGLIST? please leave a comment on this post or send a non anonymous ask!

ARKHAM MAID 2024

[qrrieterisunnq]

Could you make like an insta edit thingie where Nico has a secret girlfriend and there’s been some suspiciousness from fans why he keeps smiling so much during interviews looking at something that can’t be seen by the camera. So it would be like a shirt vid on the devils page from like his post game interview and then the comment section trying to figure things out and then Jack dropping a bit of a bomb just for fun that doesn’t actually reveal anything but just that there’s someone

Thank you for requesting, anon! I had so much fun writing this! Hope you’ll like it. 🫶🏽❤️

Someone is there - Nico Hischier

nico!hischier x fem!reader Summary: Where Nico has a secret girlfriend. The fans are suspicious about him dating someone because, at his every post-raw, he's smiling at someone behind the cameras. Jack then comments on it, revealing something bout the girl. request: yes/no gif not mine likes are good, reblogs are better <3 word count: 0,5K warning(s): instagram post, cute Nico

masterlist | wip's

njdevils

liked by nicohischier, jackhughes, jesperbratt, and others

njdevils Intermission interview with Captain!

(tagged nicohischier)

load more comments

user68_ his smile is so gorgeous!! 🥰

user009 where is he looking?? Who's standing there?

user52 I swear he's getting more sexy every fucking minute!

╰➤ user4_289 @/user52 Every second!! The Swiss man is hotter than lava!

nico_hischieer I mean, look at them, they'd look great together.

╰➤ user5587 @/nico_hischier like yeah, they both look cute, but you see how he's looking behind the cameras?

╰➤ nico_hischieer @/user5587 Yeah, the smile he has as soon as he looks behind them! Think there's someone?🤨

user13 You see that? The smile he has when he looks behind the cameras? Sure there's someone, who makes him smile like this!

╰➤ us_888_er @/user13 don't even say it! HE HAS TO BE SINGLE!! 😫

user88 omg!! He's dating someone! The smile!! He's so in love!!🥰🥹

╰➤ user5 @/user88 no, he's not! He smiled because someone bumped their head into the light! If he was with someone, he'd post at least a story with them!

╰➤ user88 @/user5 No he wouldn't! What if she ain't comfortable with the attention?

╰➤ user5 @/user88 Oh I haven't thought abt it! 🫢

nico_13_hischier who is he looking at?

liked by user71

nj_fan_devils Wait! Listen! He's playing better past the four months! He's always looking up in the family section with a smile every time he shoots a goal!

╰➤ jacks_whore86 @/nh_fan_devils Oh! You're totally right! I thought that I imagined it! But Yeah! He looks happiest!🫶🏽🥰

╰➤ nhl_fan_devils @/jack_whore88 Whoever the girl is, I swear if she breaks his heart, I'll find her and... But I want to thank her for making him happy and loved!🫶🏽🩷

hischier13 you guys are delusional! It's clear he's not dating anyone! He said it million times that he wants to focus on his career!

jackhughes looking handsome!! 😫🥵 Sorry dove! But I might steal him from you! Wanna enjoy this night with him!😏

╰➤ amara_james @/jackhughes wanna sleep on a couch, loverboy? 🤔🤨 Anyway you played amazing Nico! And the goal was insane!@

liked by lhughes_06, dawson1417, nicohischier

╰➤ nicohischier @/jackhughes someone's in trouble, should keep your mouth shut!🤣 anyway I wouldn't come with ya! @/amara_james thank you Ara!! ❤️🫶🏽

╰➤ jackhughes @/amara_james no baby, I’ll be sleeping with ya!😏 @/nicohischier and you shut your mouth loverboy! You’re pussywhipped! I thought you find me enough attractive to spend a night with me, yk? But I get it, you have miss of Switzerland at home so

liked by yourusername

user66 what is going on!! why did Jack apologize??🤨❗️

╰➤ user_91 @/user66 better questing who he apologize to 🤔🤔 is Nico really dating someone?!

╰➤ user023 @/user_91 probably to Amara! It looks like he's apologizing to her for the next sentence! 😶

╰➤ user_77_6 @/user 023 @/user91 nah jack calls amara berry or strawberry he wasn't apologizing to her

dawson1417 looking divine Cap!

liked by nicohischier, lhughes_06, amara_james and others

us679 what the hell is Jack talking about?? What miss of Switzerland?? Is Nico dating a model?!

user1 @/us679 nah I think he was just making fun of his nationality

us679 @/user1 or maybe he's really dating a Miss of Switzerland

[ddejavvu]

Hungman - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake's camboy endeavors are not unbeknownst to you, and one day you take him up on a teasing offer to join

Requested: ohhh how about thoughts on camboy Jake (screen name Hungman) whose best friend walks in on him after a show and he jokingly invites her to join him next time. she accepts (shocking Jake bc she’s lil miss sweet, shy, good girl) and when it comes show time he finds out just how nasty his bestie can be (I’m talking her begging him to be mean and nasty and “spank me daddy please!!!” which blows his mind). he makes bank that night and invites her back to his bed anytime. show or not.

Contents/Warnings: best friend/roommate!jake, smut (minors dni), rough sex, oral sex (m receiving), AFAB/fem!reader, ever-so-slight degradation, p in v but from the back, penetration, no mention of protection, teasing/joking daddy kink (she says it once to piss him off so it's not really a kink i don't think), camboy!jake

WC: 2.8K / navigation

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

"Jake, I found the rub you were looking for last week, it was only- woah!"

You come to a screeching halt in the doorway, watching as your roommate doesn't seem rushed at all to cover up his bare lower half. He's got a lazy smirk on his face, standing with his sweat-slicked chest on display as his hands hover almost uselessly over his dick.

"Oh, good," He nods, holding eye contact with you as your gaze threatens to slip lower, "Meat for dinner tonight. then. Sorry," He apologizes a moment too late, glancing down at his bare form, "Stream ended late."

"No worries," You give him a small smile, bag clutched tighter in your hands, "Sometimes I forget you do those things, m'never here to see 'em."

"Oh, yeah? You wanna be?" Jake chuckles, reaching for a towel while keeping one hand still over his cock. As big as his hand is, it's no use there.

"Wouldn't mind joining," You shrug, "It would be nice to have some extra pocket cash."

"Joining?" Jake's laugh is even more incredulous now, and he rubs the towel through his sweaty hair rather than wrapping it around his midsection, "Darlin', the day you join me is the day I'll keel over in shock."

--

You march towards Jake's room clad in tight lingerie, black lace snug to your skin.

"Get ready to keel over," You command, stepping over a stray sock in his doorway, "Ready to do this thing?"

"Woah!" Jake's eyes widen as he turns, clad in only tight briefs. It gives you a very intimate view of his clothed cock, and all of a sudden the fabric seems a lot tighter.

"What's the plan?" You ask, readjusting the strap of your bra, "Just, drop down on the floor and fuck like rabbits?"

"Y/N," Jake breathes, chest heaving with shock, "What- what are you doing?"

"You said I could be here," You huff, cocking a hip out and crossing your arms, making your tits pop, "What, you changed your mind? I wasn't kidding, I need money."

"You're really joining?" Jake asks, face the picture of a disgruntled Ken doll.

"No, Jake," You sneer, narrowing your eyes, "I was actually planning on going for a walk in the park. Just wanted to see if you'd join me."

"Alright, alright," Jake's shoulder slump from where they're tensed at his ears, "No need to get snippy, missy."

You see his dick twitch. He likes snippy.

After a bout of awkward silence, Jake gestures to a camera set up on his desk.

"Camera's there," He reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, "Not on yet, though. We're gonna go live, so I can't edit out your face. You got a mask, or something?"

"Nah," You shake your head, "Not unless you want me wearing your helmet."

"That's-" Another dick twitch, briefs straining to contain him, "-not a bad idea. But I probably shouldn't use government-issued equipment for porn."

"No fun," You lament, striding over to the bed and crawling onto the mattress on your hands and knees. You're fully presented to him, ass up and head down, wriggling your hips as you wait for the beep of the camera.

"So," You shimmy, "Anytime soon, big guy?"

"You're really ready for this?" Jake asks, hovering by the camera with an uncertain gaze.

"Just-" You huff, straining to meet his eye with a desperate look in your own, "Fuck me, Jake!"

His eyes darken, his jaw clenches, and you swear his briefs nearly rip.

"Okay," He murmurs, low and dangerous, and you hear the click of the camera's recording button.

"You," Jake drawls, sidling up behind you and gripping your hips in his strong hands, "Have been a very naughty girl."

You scoff at his stereotypical porno-style dialogue, playing along anyways, "Oh, yeah? What did I do, daddy?"

You hear his breathing hitch, and his fingers dig harder into your flesh.

"You've been watching my streams," He murmurs, dangerous and accusatory. Your stomach bottoms out, you have. You aren't sure how he's figured you out, but you have, and until now, you'd thought you were getting away with it. He wasn’t hard to find, and you have to give him credit for his creative screen name: Hungman.

"All this time," He hums, slowly smoothing his hand over the fleshy globes of your ass, "You've been buried under the covers in your room, those pretty little hands of yours sinking in your cunt, huh?"

Then, after a moment of silence, he hums, "Yeah?"

You nod, almost shamefully, and you're given a sharp smack to the ass in response.

It makes you cry out, and your voice blends with Jake as he roars, "Answer me!"

"Yes!" You yelp, breathing heavy as you push your ass further towards him, in search of another surge of pleasure, "Yes, I- I've been watching your videos."

"And last week," He drawls, rubbing your sore ass with his massive, rough hand, "Caught me damn near naked. You think I didn't see how flustered you were? Think I didn't notice how tense those shoulders were, huh?" Jake's large hand moves up your back, squeezing at your tight shoulder. You gasp at the feeling, his fingers prodding at sensitive muscles.

"This whole time," He stalks around to the front of the bed, cock out and hard near your face. It makes your mouth water; you nearly choke on your drool.

"This whole time you've been thinkin' about me, haven't you?" Jake asks, running a soft hand through your hair, "Fingers buried in that wet cunt of yours, stuffin' a shirt- my shirt in your mouth to stop from moanin'."

"How do you-" You stammer, but Jake cuts you off, hand tightening in your hair.

"I saw you." He reveals, "'Came in to give you your laundry. You left the door open, baby. Did you want me to see?"

"No," You shake your head, but it doesn't go far with his hand in your hair, "No, I- I didn't know you were home."

"Didn't know," Jake scoffs, dick stiff, "I walk like a damn elephant, Y/N. You knew."

"I didn't mean for you to see me," You insist, but oh, you did, "Honest, Jake, I swear!"

"Don't swear," He sneers, letting go of your hair to lean over and swat at your ass again, "This is what you wanted, baby. This is it," He slips a hand under his hard cock, pushing it towards your face, "Take it, darlin'. Take it, this is what you wanted."

You lean to the side, tongue already out in anticipation of taking Jake's dick into your mouth. But the second before you can get a taste, though, he backs away a step, leaving you open-mouthed and whining.

"Look at that," He chuckles, reaching with his free hand to grip your jaw, thumbs hollowing out your cheeks, "So desperate. You opened right up for me, baby."

"Mhm," You struggle to speak through the grip Jake has on your cheeks, "Yeah. Want your- your cock, Jake."

"Filthy," He scoffs, releasing your face to land yet another smack against your ass. You let out a broken whine through pursed lips, but you feel the head of Jake's cock bump them, and you're opening your mouth eagerly once more.

"Take it," He scoffs, "You want it so damn bad. There," He jerks his hips forward, jamming his dick so far into your mouth that it's nearly down your throat, "That good enough for you, baby? That what'cha wanted?"

"Mhm," You nod vigorously, mouth subsequently sliding up and down the shaft of his cock. "Thank you," You pant around his length, words mumbled and drooly, "Thank you, Jake."

"Good manners," He praises you with a cocky glance towards the camera, "Showing off for the audience?"

You give your hips a wiggle for the camera, and your ass jiggles with the movement. Jake groans, fisting a hand in your hair once more, "Come on baby, don't tease."

He tugs you further onto his cock with the hand he's tangled in your hair, and your throat constricts without warning, an involuntary gag. You choke, spluttering and coughing as he barely lets up, hand not only pulling your head forwards but pushing it down, too, fully taking your mouth with his hard length.

You run your tongue against the underside of his cock and curl it up around the tip. It's difficult to do with how deep he's buried inside your mouth, but you rear back against his hold and take a gulp of fresh air with the motion of your tongue. When your wet muscle flicks through his slit he hisses, hand nearly ripping your hair out.

"God," He gasps, this time using his grip on your hair to pull you off of his cock, grunting and groaning as you chase after him with your mouth, "Ease up, darlin'. Easy, I- I've gotta get inside you."

The only way you'll let him take his cock out of your mouth if is he puts it inside of you. You go limp, knees already tired and arms even worse. But nothing deters you from the excitement of being fucked from behind by Jake.

When you feel his large, rough fingers tug at the strap of your panties, you expect them to ghost over your ass. But they plunge for your cunt instead, prodding at the end of your slit.

"Ah!' You seize up, stiff as you try getting a glimpse of him, "Jake, I-"

"I don't have the patience to work you open," Jake apologizes, thumbing gently over your tight asshole, "Your cunt's already wet, darlin', just- god," His fingers hit a gush of slick and slip easily into your pussy, "I need to be inside you now."

"Okay," You nod, panting as Jake's fingers nudge roughly at your clit, "Oh, god, Jake, just- fuck me!"

"Don't make me spank you again," He grumbles, one hand guiding his dick towards the end of your slick slit, "I am, brat."

"Yeah?" You wriggle your hips, egging him on, "Can't feel you yet. Maybe you don't have as big of a dick as I thought, cowboy."

Jake chooses to show, not tell. In a quick second, his cock is rammed so far into your cunt, you see stars. Your only warning had been the soft stretch of his thick fingers, but this, this is rough, aggressive, demanding.

"Feel it now?" Jake spits, leaning over your back to sneer against your ear, "'S rippin' your pretty little cunt open, darlin'. Still think it ain't that big?"

"Use it," You grunt, gritting your teeth so that you don't moan. You don't want him to have the satisfaction of getting to you, "Move. Fuck. Me."

You're not the only one good at following orders. Maybe it's the navy training in him, but he's obedient, but he rears his hips back, his thick cock dragging deliciously along the walls of your wet, hot cunt.

He sets a merciless pace, jackhammering his hips into your own hard enough to split right through your cunt and jam his dick up through your throat. His balls slap against your thighs, and the speed at which he rams into you shakes the bed, his headboard slamming repeatedly against the wall.

"There," He grits, breath hot against your shoulder "You happy? You're pretty demanding for a bitch on her hands and knees."

"Harder," You beg, finally letting a strangled moan slip through your lips, "Harder, Jake, I need more!"

"Gonna fuck you through the wall if I go harder," Jake scoffs, nipping at your earlobe. He reaches up to pinch your clit between two rough fingers, twisting and teasing the oversensitive bud, "What about that, baby? That better?"

"Ah! Yes," You gush, drilling your hips backwards as Jake's pinch turns to circles over your clit, "More, Jake, I need- I need more!"

"More," He mimics you, bumping his lips into the side of your temple so that you turn and raise your head to try and meet him. It's killer on your neck, but it's the only way you can mouth desperately at his lips.

"So damn greedy. Is that what you were moanin' into that shirt of mine, darlin'? Beggin' for more, for the real thing?"

"Yes," You pant, lips pressing desperately to his own, over and over again from that awkward sideways angle you're barely able to reach, "Yes, Jake, I- I need you!"

"Tell them," Jake urges, parting from the sloppy side kiss he'd attempted and grabbing your face in his free hand. One is still circling your clit, but that means that his weight is on you, and you're barely able to hold yourself up with him on top. He yanks your head to the side, putting your drool-covered chin and fucked-out face on display. He's wearing a cocky smirk. but you can't see it, and only when your face is in position does he plant his hand back on the mattress and take his weight back.

"I need you, Jake," You moan, pathetic and desperate to the camera. You feel Jake's dick twitch inside of you, and his fingers circle faster at your clit. It sends a surge of arousal so powerful rolling under your belly that you nearly cum right then and there, but it fizzles out to wait for another wave.

"Ah! I need you," You repeat, babbling with a half-open mouth now, "I need you, I need you, I need you so bad, Jake!"

"Agh," He grunts, teeth biting and nipping at your bare shoulder as his hips jerk forwards even faster, a near-impossible pace, "Yeah? Yeah, oh fuck, scream for me, baby, come on."

His cock is rock hard, leaking, twitching, and slamming into your most sensitive spot. You let a steady flow of whimpers and moans fall from your lips, but as Jake's dick pistons harder in and out of you, they turn to screams.

Jake's cum floods your cunt. There's no other word for it than flood, it gushes from his tip and gets slammed into your cunt, having nowhere to go but out. You feel it ooze around his shaft, and it's sticky and hot against the walls of your cunt as he chases his high. He does fuck like a rabbit, hard and fast, and the feeling of him milking his dick in your pussy sends you over the edge with another rolling surge of pleasure.

"Ah!" Your mouth hangs open, eyes squeezed shut and thighs trembling with both the force of your orgasm and the effort of holding yourself up. Your climax makes your cunt spasm, and Jake feels the way your cunt squeezes his cock, clenching relentlessly and sporadically as you get fucked through your own high.

"Oh," He pants against your back, lips pressing to your dewy skin, "Oh- Oh my god,"

"Fuck," You hiss, finally slumping forwards where you'd been arching your hips backwards to get more of Jake's length in your cunt, "Oh, fuck! Jake," You breathe, "I- God, that was good."

"Mhm," He hums, dick still nestled snugly inside your cum-filled cunt as he takes a moment to breathe. His hand falls from your clit, and his forehead presses to your back before he breathes, straightening up and alleviating the pressure of his weight against you.

You have no problem collapsing your elbows and letting yourself slump to Jake's mattress. You're drained, and you can barely remember to keep your face turned towards the camera as Jake pulls out of your cunt. Once he's out, you let your knees straighten, your hips falling to the sheets below.

"Jesus," Jake huffs, thumbing at the puffy lips of your cunt and smearing some of his cum against your ass, "I made a real mess of you, darlin'."

"S'okay," You grunt, too spent to care about any clean-up, "Just- turn off the camera and come lay with me."

You do hear the click of the camera, and a few stray keyboard strokes. But your eyes drift shut, and they only reopen when you feel something warm and wet against your cunt.

You almost wish it was Jake's tongue, but it's not. You're too tired for that now, you think, but it's a suggestion for a later date.

It's a washcloth, and you must have been too hazy to hear the sink water running from the bathroom. Jake cleans up your puffy, stiff entrance, placating you with a warm hand on your thigh when you squirm and hiss at the sensitivity.

"I know," He croons, wiping away the last smear of his cum against your ass, "I know, darlin'. It's over now, you can sleep."

"No," You whine, reaching blindly for him, "You too, cowboy."

"Alright," He chuckles, soft and tired, "C'mere."

He tugs you to one side of his bed, and crawls over you to the other. He gathers you in his arms and you let him, limbs going limp as he tucks you against his chest.

"We made a ton of money," He informs you, lips dotting against the tip of your nose. He rubs his large hands over your back, a soothing gesture that helps you slip further towards sleep, "Come back any time, baby. Camera or no camera."

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[bidisasterevankinard]

Not even close to 7 sentence sunday

i have plot and some sentences that I was quick to imagine for my fratboys bucktommy au, but ofc it might be editing when I'll write the whole thing still i need opinion on this part(again not really bucktommy)

“So, you bang both girls and guys?” The guy, Sal, who Buck already during his first shift pinned as a jerk, definitely just proved that he is right. 

“Sal!” Hen hits the man’s shoulder, and Buck smiles at her with a slight nod in appreciation, but he knows how to fight his fights against the type like this one.

“What? I'm just curious,” Sal says it with the same assholish manner and Buck just rolls his eyes. He looks at Buck with the challenge and Buck will not let this idiot win. He is not ashamed of himself and he will not let anyone try to make him ashamed. 

“Yes. I bang both,” Buck sips the coffee Hen bought him, making a mental note to say sorry to her, Chim and Bobby, and even Tommy, for the way he behaves now, but he should say it to shut this guy.  

He looks Sal straight in the eyes and smirks.

“Even tho, most of the time I prefer guys to bang me. Or girls. Or anyone who wants to actually,” Buck licks his lips and leans closer to man, using his best charming lower voice, in which sarcasm is heard, and smiles, not forgetting batting his eyelashes. “Wanna try as it's our day off tomorrow and you're so interested? I’ll even ride you so you don’t have to do a lot of work.”

Tommy chokes on his food and Bobby and Chim hit him on the back, while they are like Hen laugh so hard Buck’s sure they can start crying.

Sal the one who looks pretty angry, clenching his jaw so that Buck can hear his teeth sliding against each other. Buck loves the face Sal makes. The jerk knows he lost and Buck is too smug. Buck 1, Sal 0.

When laughter dies and Tommy stops coughing the pasta Bobby made, Sal makes the worst fake smile.

“Nah, I'm not that interested. You are definitely not my time. I like chicks,” the man says it like he is the best guy ever and any woman should be happy he looked at her. Buck just rolls his eyes again and he smiles at Hen who does the same.

It was such a weak come back, Buck barely contains his laugh. 

“Yeah, I had enough guys who said that they only like girls. And you know what? They really liked fuck me so I can't walk for at least half a day after or cried in pleasure under me, begging me to fuck them harder and deeper. So never say never, sweety,” Buck blows the kiss into Sal’s direction and decides to make himself useful. “Now if your ‘cool straight guy’ questioning of bi guy is done, I'm gonna go and clean the truck.”

He sends a fake polite smile to Sal, and then real apologetic to everyone in the room and goes away from the loft.

I was tagged by @wikiangela @dangerpronebuddie @daffi-990

@watchyourbuck @rogerzsteven @tizniz @theotherbuckley @pirrusstuff @saybiwithme @spotsandsocks @devirnis @diazsdimples @fortheloveofbuddie @hippolotamus @cal-daisies-and-briars @bibuckbuckley @bi-buckrights @bewilderedbuckley @neverevan @monsterrae1 @rainbow-nerdss and anyone who wants too

[mysticstarlightduck]

Incorrect Quote Tag Game!

Thank you so much for the ask, @thelovelymachinery (here)! I'll go with some of the cast from Supernova Initiative, Scrapyard Boys and What Lurks In The Hollow for this one let's goooo!

Rules: Use this quote generation to generate quotes for your characters, you can edit the generator to make it fit what kind of quotes you'd prefer and remember to rate the quote.

SCRAPYARD BOYS

Riley: What’s your favorite color? Adahm: Stop asking stupid questions. Ask me something logical and mature. Riley: How many moles of sodium bicarbonate are needed to neutralize 0.8ml of sulfuric acid at STP? Adahm: My favorite color is green. Taylen, eating chips and watching the exchange: (absolute wheezing)

Gwyn: Adrien! This soup is flaccid! Adrien, on the verge of angry tears: LITERALLY WHAT THE FUCK DOES THIS MEAN?!

Jordan: Pardon the intrusion, but- Valen: On this moment or just my life in general?

Quince: What, I can’t be in a bad mood? It’s like people think, “Oh, Quince is such a nice person, Quince is so happy-go-lucky! Quince can’t be in a bad mood!” Well, you know what? I CAN be in a bad mood. And right now, I AM in a bad mood.

Saoirse: Adahm doesn’t look very happy. Taylen, shrugs, smiling: That's his happy. He just has a resting bitch face.

Valen: You saved me! Why? Adahm: People would think I murdered you if I didn't. Valen: That's not reassuring. Adahm: It's not supposed to be - I still might kill you. Emily: Let's change the subject!

Kidnapper: I have one of your friends. Damon: Which one? I have seven. Kidnapper: The loud, annoying, rowdy one who never shuts up. Damon: Which one? I have seven. Rhys, distantly: HEY!!!

Adahm: Small creatures are much more vicious because they have a smaller body to bottle up all their emotions. Kiren: Ridiculous. Give me some examples. Max: Wasps? Jordan: Terriers? Adahm: Nah. Taylen.

Valen: Hold the fuck up. Kiren: Excuse me? Valen: I said hold the fuck up. Kiren: [...] ? Valen: I’m the fuck up, hold me back.

Saoirse: It’s the gift that keeps giving! Kay: It’s the flower that keeps blooming! Valen: It’s the boat that keeps sailing! Adahm, feral: It’s the serial killer that keeps stabbing!

SUPERNOVA INITIATIVE

Artemis: It's called cauliflower, not ghost broccoli. Orion, eyes wide: I know what I saw.

Orion: I think I just figured something out. I got to go. Dyma: Aren't you forgetting something? Orion: Uuh...*hesitantly kisses Dyma's forehead before running out.* Dyma: No, pay your bills! Damn, who raised you?

Deimos: We'll talk about this later. Cassie: Fine, I won’t be listening.

Meridian: When life gives you lemonades, make lemons! Life will be all like "whaAttT?" Vesper: Life lessons that schools can't teach you.

Artemis: Heyyy Kye, how’s your… drink?? Kye: What do you mean drink? It’s coffee. Artemis: You sure?? *Mischievously looks to coffee maker* Kye: *Concernedly looks to coffee maker* *Cement sitting beside the coffee maker* Kye:...I’m on my third fucking drink right now, I should be dead. Jack (bursts into the room): How the fuck didn't you TASTE that something was off??! Holy fuck are you okay?! Artemis: *Wheezes like a broken tea kettle*

Ethean: Yo dumbass, get over here. Pax: Okay- Meridian: *gleefully runs past* I’m coming! Pax, sadly: I thought... I was dumbass... Ethean: You're knucklehead

Kidnapper: I have your sibling Orion: What? I don't have a sibling... Kidnapper: ... Then who just called me a lowlife bitch and spit in my face? Orion: Oh my stars, you have Gabi, I'm so sorry. Welp, good luck! Kidnapper: Wait, what -?! (phone call cuts to the kidnapper's anguished screams as Gabi guts them)

Noctus: Look, I hate to say ‘I told you so’— Aleks: No, you don’t. You would marry 'I told you so’ and have a baby with it and buy adjoining burial plots.

Vesper, singing to the tune of I Kissed a Girl: I killed a guy, and I liked it- Cassie, whispering: Should we call the exorcist? Kye, also singing: The taste of his cherry chapstick. Jack, appalled: Yeah, call the exorcist.

Aleks: Do even you know the ABCs of first aid? Orion: A. Bone. Coming out of the skin is very bad.

Pax: Holy shit, Ethean, do you know what this means?! Ethean: Kid, whenever you start doing this, nobody knows what you mean.

Orion: *pitches a plan idea* Dyma, impressed: Huh, there might be something here! Jack, under his breath: Yeah, a lawsuit.

WHAT LURKS IN THE HOLLOW

*In the chip aisle at Walmart, doing a late-night grocery run.* Zach: *Minding their own business, looking for tortilla chips.* Zach: *Finds tortilla chips.* Dylan, to Amy, on the verge of frustrated tears: See, he knows what we're here for. He knows what he's doing. Be more like him. Make a goddamn decision, Amy!

Amy: Christmas lights? Zach: Check. Amy: Thermos of hot cocoa? Indie: Check. Amy: Santa suits? Conner: Check. Amy: Shovel? Christine: Check. Amy: Alibi and bail money? Dylan: Check- wait, WHAT?!

Mayor Whitaker (bloodied knife in hand): Get in the Halloween spirit and make a ghost! Zach (tied up but unimpressed): That’s called murder and I heard somewhere that it was illegal.

Amy: You know, I really wish you’d just admit you made a mistake sometimes. Dylan, angrily stirring his coffee: I prefer it with salt.

Christine: Do you ever want to talk about your emotions, Dylan? Dylan: No. Maeve: I do! Christine: I know, Maeve. Maeve: I’m sad. Christine, sighing: I know, Maeve.

Dylan: COMPANY IS COMING! I WANT THIS PLACE LOOKING LIKE DISNEY ON ICE IN ONE MINUTE! Dylan: AMY IF YOU HAVEN'T MADE YOUR BED THROW IT AWAY IT'S TOO LATE TO MAKE IT NOW! Dylan: ZACH GET RID OF THE COUCHES, WE CAN'T LET PEOPLE KNOW WE S I T ! Zach & Amy, watching in ✨ sheer confusion ✨: .... Dylan, running around: THE CHAIRS NEED TO BE PUSHED IN, THERE CANNOT BE ANY SIGN OF L I V I N G IN THIS HOUSE ---

Zach: Are you drunk? Savvy, words sluggish: Only on the spirit of Christmas! Amy: And the spirit of whisky apparently.

Amy: We need a plan to beat them. Christine: Okay, listen up. First, we fill their shoes with wet cat food. The entire group, appalled: Christine: Judge me all you want, I get results.

Liam: I have a problem. Kev's ghost: Kill it. Liam: Dude, I know you're dead but can you chill for like, two seconds? Kev: No.

Amy: A mosquito tried to bite me and I slapped it and killed it. Amy: And I started thinking. Amy; Like, it was just trying to get food. Amy; What if I went to the fridge and it just slammed the door shut and snapped my neck? Dylan: ... Are you ok?

Conner: What do you have? Ethan: A KNIFE! Conner: NO!

Indie: Have I ever told you that I love you with my whole heart? Erin: For the love of all that is holy, I am not taking you to McDonalds. It’s 2am! Indie: Mean.

Amy: Oh gosh I wish I got more sleep I only got six hours! Christine: Six? I only got three! Zach: You guys got sleep? Dylan, comes stumbling out of his room and grabs a jug of coffee before saying: ... What year is it??

Christine, in the middle of the cursed woods: Operation no more distractions is a go! *not even 10 seconds later* Christine: Oh, look! A butterfly! *it was not, in fact, a butterfly*

Liam: So... This is my full potential? Kev's Ghost: Yes, if you don't change. Liam: So, then it's... Kev's Ghost: All downhill from here, kid. Liam: Like Toby. Kev's Ghost: I do not know what this Toby is. But it sounds disappointing.

Dylan, still in his pajamas: How did you even get in here?! Charlie: Amy's window! Or, as I like to call it, "Charlie's door"! Amy: I’m closing the window.

Tagging (gently): @sleepy-night-child, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @oh-no-another-idea, @littleladymab,

@winterandwords, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling

@agirlandherquill, @anoelleart, @ray-writes-n-shit

@writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers, @finickyfelix

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @cakeinthevoid,

@thelovelymachinery, @an-indecisive-nerd, @thepeculiarbird, @clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams

@wyked-ao3 and OPEN TAG