#kt fics

[temilyrights]

"all this to prove a point?" for the writing prompt

emily prentiss x reader

no warnings. no use of y/n or pronouns for reader.

sentence fic prompt

You rub your hands together, trying your best to generate some heat in your body. Emily’s car, while lovely, did not provide the warmth of an suv on a usual stakeout and you were seriously regretting your inability to tell this woman no. 

“All this to prove a point?” You mumble, the humour fading from your tone the longer you sit in the cold car, the September air biting away at your fingers and toes. 

Emily sits with her camera pointed at Morgan’s apartment, a determined glint in her eye. “Better personal life than me, my ass. He came straight home and hasn’t left the building since!”

You roll your eyes, wishing desperately you were home, “Yeah but he’s also not wasting his evening stalking his friend.”

Emily lowers the camera and turns to face you, brows drawn together. “He can’t make accusations like that and not expect me to find proof.” 

“Well maybe if you focused a little bit more on yourself and a little less on him then you wouldn’t need to prove it and you’d have a private life he couldn’t argue with.”  

She scoffs, “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Always so clueless.

You shake your head, annoyed, embarrassed, and frustrated by the woman in front of you. “I’m right here.”

Emily’s frown only deepens and you blow out a breath, “I invited you out for dinner tonight and instead we’re stalking Morgan and have completely missed our reservations. Every time I try to move us forward you find a way to shut it down.”

“Reservations? I thought you wanted to get take-out and head back to one of ours, like usual.” She says with genuine confusion. 

“No, I booked that nice Indian place you like.” 

“Oh,” She responds, dropping the camera firmly in her lap. 

“Look,” you sigh, “I just need to know, okay? Because maybe I’m just failing to get the hint and you’re really not interested but I thought we were going somewhere. I like you Emily.” 

“You like me? Tonight was supposed to be a date and instead I blew you off and made us sit and stake out Morgan.” She says slowly, words strangled.

“Yes.”

“Fucking hell.” She blows out a breath. The car is silent for a moment as she comes to terms with the news and then her gaze focuses back on you. “I’m so sorry. I will make this up to you. I’m taking you for the best date night starting right now.”

Your eyes widen, “Wait so that’s a-?”

She smiles, wide and happy, “Yes, idiot, I like you too. God, why else would I ask you to sit here with me?”

You can’t help but smile too. Head in the clouds as Emily puts the camera away and the keys back in the ignition. 

“Ready to go?” She asks, a playful smirk on her lips that your eyes linger on. 

“There’s just one thing first.” Because you can’t wait a moment longer. You’ve waited years. 

You lean over the centre console, hand cupping her cheek and pulling her towards you to meet you in the middle. Emily’s eyes darken instantly, her gaze dropping to your lips before they fall close and her lips softly meet yours. 

Your body hums, alive as your lips move tenderly against hers. A gentle whine escapes your lips and your body heats up as you regretfully pull away. 

“Mmmhmm,” Emily hums, lips well kissed and eyes dark. “We can definitely do that again.”

“Food?” You ask, voice strangled. Avoiding the knowing look in her eyes, suddenly shy. 

“Oh, babes, I’ve got the perfect place.”

taglist: @ry-kills-jemily @sapphic-stress @xrainydazeteax @mckennamayfairgoode @enduringalexblake @augustvandyne @themoontaxi @prentissology @alexbllake @ssa-sapphic @storiesofsvu

[theredcuyo]

Maybe i just want to lie to myself but let me present you this (I'm curious of what Phil is gonna say, but for now, this)

If Lullah and Chayanne are the kids of death, maybe they've ascended and now, were expecting the lady of death waiting for them, or their papa, or who knows, except that it's none of them who awaits

It's a tall man, with long, pink, soft looking hair, a crown and a blood red cape, looking at them almost indifferent to their presence, though they can barely tell behind the half mask of a pig that covers his face

Chayanne is INMIDIATELY on the defensive side to protect his sister, more like a reflex than a conciously effort because weirdly enough, the presence feels familiar, almost nostalgic but he doesn't want to give in, that's until after a few seconds they hear the man chuckle "Really, old man?"

They share a confused, yet defensive look to each other "Bruh, i'd figure you told them how i look, but no, old man's memory even forgets that"

"Who are you?"Finally spits Lullah, and her brother can't tell wether she's scared or not. The pig guy shakes his head before kneeling just enough to be at their same height, they take a step back and he softeness his eyes. "I'm just someone who took on this kingdom, you know, after abolishing all goverment of man"

That... Sounds awfully familiar, an old story dad told them before to bed when they were younger, a person who they know even if they never met, Lullah speaks before her brother can think, her voice is little, insecure, afraid to be wrong. "Uncle ...Techno?"

He stares at them for a second, but his face doesn't give any signal of what for away. "I guess i'll take that, yes, i'm Technob-

And before he finishes, two little arms are trapping him thightly, the little boy who hadn't utter a word until then just had put together all the stories he so loved to be told, conquering over the world, destroying a country, farming more potatoes than people on earth, those stories about his dad's friend, someone everyone was afraid of but admired just as much, his older brother who he had never met, his hero.

"HUH?" It took Techno by surprise, and he had barely has time to react by the time another pair of arms were holding onto him for dear existence, this, this hadn't been what he expected, but it was a calculated risk, but he had thought Phil's kids to be more careful with strangers.

|||

Just a silly little idea, its bittersweet i think, i'm not that updated on Phil's lore, but i hope this makes sense

[cowboydk]

SILVER LININGS, GOLD AND SHINING

Summary: Complicated was the first word that came to mind regarding your relationship with one Jeong Yunho. He was your very best friend, your other half, the person you went to with everything. He also was someone you slept with fairly regularly. If anyone asked, the pair of you just said you were the very best of friends. That’s all it was, right? What happens when the lines start to blur even more than they already are? Or when others coming into the mix throws everything you thought you knew out the window? Do you let things fall apart or fight for a new normal?

Pairing: Non-idol!Jeong Yunho x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Strong/Mature language (I swear too often it is inevitable with me, sorry 😔), sexual content (jokes/implied sexual content/sexual themes), eventual smut, unprotected sex, angst. Minors DNI! More specific warnings will be put on each chapter. 

Genre: Fluff, angst, best friends to best friends with benefits?, idiots to lovers!!

A/N: Eeeep, hi!! This is a concept I’ve actually had in my noggin for quite a few months now. I haven’t written a fic in quite some time, so please be gentle with me. On top of that, this is my first descent into the ATEEZ fic world! I hope you enjoy it!!

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

PART FIVE

PART SIX

PART SEVEN

PART EIGHT

INCOMING SOON.

[avocado-writing]

Kinktober 4

4. Overstimulation, Oviposition/Egglaying, Human Urinal

notes: this was inspired by this incredible fic from @naromoreau, thank you so much for putting naga!crowley into my mind! also this is super monster-fucky. i do not apologise.

afab!reader

biologically this is not at all how snakes work but uhhhhhhh Crowley is a demon so I’m allowed creative license 🤷‍♂️

Crowley’s been irritable. 

Snapping, brooding, being generally difficult to be around. You can tell Aziraphale doesn’t love it either, but he’s at least had the commodity of knowing Crowley for longer. In fifty years of happy romance between the three of you this is the first time that your demon has ever gotten on your nerves, and you won’t stand for it. 

“Look,” you say through gritted teeth after he’s barked at you for some unrealised slight, “you’re in a mood. But it isn’t my fault, and it isn’t Aziraphale’s, so stop taking it out on us.”

Aziraphale freezes and looks between the two of you. Crowley raises himself up to his full height… and then deflates.

“Sorry,” he mutters, running a hand over his face. “You’re right, it isn’t your fault. I’m just…”

He trails off, and you can tell he’s trying to work out if he should admit something. You close the gap and take his hand.

“Crowley, love. If there's something the matter you need to tell me. Tell us. We can help!”

Is he blushing? It’s hard to tell, as he turns his face away.

“Look, I’m just a bit… worked up.”

“Oh! …Oh. Well, there’s no reason we can’t assist with that?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Crowley sighs. You look over to Aziraphale. He clearly has more of an idea of what’s going on, but knows it’s Crowley’s truth to tell. “It’s demon breeding season.”

Your cheeks get hot all of a sudden.

“Oh, I see. I didn’t even realise they had one of those.”

“Well, of course. Otherwise where would new demons come from?” he asks, baffled at your confusion. You suppose you don’t have an answer for that.

“So what do you need to do?”

“Well, usually I’d just slither downstairs and find someone receptive and we’d –”

“No!” you say, suddenly, with such force it makes both of your partners jump. In the future you’ll experiment more with other bodies, engage in orgies so you can watch Aziraphale and Crowley be fucked (and become smug in the way it’s never quite as good as when you do it) but for now the idea of your demon being in bed with anyone but the people in this room shreds your heart. “I mean, look. You don’t need to do that. I’ll help.”

“We’ll help,” Aziraphale says softly. You know this must be quite a gap for him to bridge, having known Crowley when he’s been going through these heats before, but now knowing him as a lover. Crowley looks between the two of you, strangely touched.

“Are you certain? I don’t look… I’m a bit more demonic when I need to mate.”

The idea sends a chill down your spine to straight between your legs.

“That’s fine,” you say, a little too quickly. Despite it all, Crowley grins.

“Alright. Get to the bedroom. I’ll be right with you.”

🐍

You strip down, quickly, excitedly. Secretly you’ve wondered about what Crowley looks like when he’s a proper demon for a while. Hellfire caressing your skin? Horns to grab onto? Your mind is going a mile a minute.

You turn to Aziraphale. He’s removed his cravat and overcoat, and is currently turning up his sleeves to the elbow. You look at him, confused.

“Are you not going to…?” you gesture to your bare body. Aziraphale smiles.

“I think this might be something you want to experience by yourself first, love.”

You open your mouth to ask him what that means, but you’re distracted by the sound of a door creaking.

Crowley slithers in.

No, literally.

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t this. The top half of him is the Crowley you know. Bronzed skin, copper hair down his back, yellow eyes with blown-wide snake pupils. 

But that isn’t the only part of him that’s serpentine.

From his hips onwards, he is entirely tail. Black scales rippling as he moves towards you, osteoderms moving with his breath. He looks both entirely like and unlike himself, a strange creation of familiar and not. 

He is beautiful.

“Oh,” is all you can manage from where the rest of your body has frozen. You know it was the wrong move, because Crowley looks deflated.

“You don’t like it,” he says with a sigh, and you immediately feel terrible. What he means is ‘you don’t like me.’ You can hear the sadness tinging his voice. So you step forward, hand out, careful.

“No, love, it’s not that at all. Just give me a moment to… adjust.”

You move forward, unsure how to touch him. Aziraphale’s voice whispers from behind you:

“Go on, nightingale. He won’t hurt you.” And then, after a beat, when the angel realises what you’re really worried about, “you won’t hurt him.”

You run your palm along the soft heat of his scales and Crowley sighs, both in relief and in excitement. You take your time, exploring the pattern of him, the curve of his tail. You don’t realise but soon he’s begun to curl around you, wrapping you up gorgeously tight in his coils. Soon your legs are totally engulfed by him. 

“Isss thisss alright, nightingale?” he asks, voice low. You try to move and find that you can’t, really, but at the same time you’re fine with it - you know the one holding you is someone you trust with your life.

“Very,” you laugh. You feel someone embrace you from behind and realise Aziraphale has crossed over to you, his chest against your back, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You give yourself over to the strange new feeling of being held like this.

“So now what?” you ask, looking at Crowley’s tail, trying to work out how he mates. It doesn’t take you long to find it: a slit towards where his groin would be, beginning to leak slick down his scales. You run your fingers over it and Crowley gasps, shuddering. “Do you need me to touch you here?”

Crowley shakes his head, breathless with delighted chuckles.

“No. Well, I want you to, but that doesssn’t have to be part of it.”

You decide that you want to as well. You press into him there, his cloaca, and giggle when he leans forward to rest his forehead on your free shoulder.

“Fuck…” he groans. 

“If you’re offering,” you say, cheekily. Both your partners huff a laugh, and as you explore deeper into him, you feel something beginning to emerge. You remove your hand to make way, expecting some sort of appendage… and to be fair, it is, but not one you’ve ever seen before.

“What’s that?” you ask, breathless and both bewildered and gleeful.

“That’sss… what I use to lay my eggs.”

A beat passes.

“Hmm.”

“Sssstill game?”

“Crowley, am I going to get pregnant from this?” you ask with very real concern. A hand comes up to caress your face, a thumb swipes across the plush of your lips.

“No, love. I’d need to fertilissse them too, and I won’t do that. I jusssst need sssomewhere to, erm. Push them.”

Well, you’ve come this far. Over the last fifty years the three of you have introduced many things into the bedroom: lace, leather, toys. But as your demonic lover says he wants to lay eggs inside you while your angelic one helps you brace for it, it’s nice to know that there’s still some surprises you can give each other.

You nod, and lay back. Crowley’s eyes go wide.

“You’re sssure?”

“Yes, love. Of course.”

What leaves his cloaca is a tube, for want of a better term. It’s just over a foot long and dripping with slickness. It seems to give him pleasure as it releases, you know what he looks like when he’s about to orgasm, and when it twists its way towards you all you can do is relax into his tail, into Aziraphale’s arms.

The angel threads his fingers through yours and holds you tightly. 

“You’ll be fine, darling.”

“You don’t seem very surprised about any of this,” you say, breathlessly. A thought occurs to you. “Hang on, have you done this before?”

Aziraphale goes bright pink.

“Erm…”

“Once,” Crowley hisses, grinning - have his teeth gotten sharper? No, he’s just grown fangs - “yearsssss ago. Before either of ussss met you.”

“I was a friend helping another friend,” Aziraphale says quickly, a line he’s clearly been using to justify his lust for years. You can’t help but laugh at your utterly daft and obtuse lovers, and that’s good – it loosens you up and allows Crowley to slip inside your cunt.

You’re already quite wet from the new, explorative play that’s come so far, but the tube is slick and searching. It surges up inside you, far inside you, further than either of their cocks have ever hit, but it doesn’t hurt. Something about what it’s secreting is relaxing your inner muscles and allowing it access into your core. You gasp as you feel Crowley root himself there, and the demon moans.

“Fuck. You’re…”

You’re too overstimulated to reply, so just nod. Yes. He is, too. Across the width of your shoulders you see Aziraphale kiss Crowley, soft and long.

“You are so lovely like this, Crowley.”

“Gorgeous,” you manage, honestly, and Crowley looks like the praise might make him burst. Settling back into the moment he locks his eyes on yours, serious, sincere.

“”I’m going to ssstart now. It might feel a bit sssstrange, but I promisssse it will be good.”

“It is,” Aziraphale agrees, shyly. You smile, and nod. You trust them.

Crowley closes his eyes and you see him squeeze. Something travels through his tube, passing through him and up inside you. The strange spherical nature of the object has you gasping, firstly in surprise and then in pleasure. The press of it is strange and illicit and when it pops inside of you, you try to roil; you can’t though. Crowley has you too tightly.

“That’sss the firsssst one.”

“Oh my god,” you moan.

“Are you alright?”

“Keep going,” you command, your voice no-nonsense. And Crowley does. Another egg passes from inside him to inside you, pressing through your cervix with no issue to deposit safely. After four of them you’re beginning to feel a bit full. By seven, you can feel the eggs jostling around inside of you, an unusual and filthy intimate slide. Your silky insides are making them the perfect home.

“How… how many are there?” you breathe. Crowley’s face is drenched with sweat, his eyes rolling back in his head. From his cloaca a fresh stream of cum drips onto the tops of your thighs.

“Usually ten or twelve.”

“Twelve?!” you gasp, not sure how you’ll fit those, but willing to try. On cue, another egg presses your vulva apart and nestles in deep. 

You’re showing them now, stomach starting to stretch. It doesn’t hurt though. It feels wonderful. You’ve never been so full before, your body warm and deliciously thrumming. You look over your shoulder to where Aziraphale is holding you, in some strange approximation of a husband helping a wife give birth. His eyes are firmly fixed on your abdomen, lips slightly apart, cheeks bright red.

“Aziraphale?”

“Sorry, darling. You just look…” he trails off, instead choosing to rest his hand on your stomach. You moan as he bumps the eggs inside you, and for a moment you’re swept up in it, and think it wouldn’t be so bad to have Crowley make them viable, maybe you’d quite like carrying his clutch, so long as the two of them looked after you like this.

The last two eggs come at once, one right after the other, filling you to the brim. You can feel them taking up the tunnel to your core, hardly fitting in properly. You whine and try to find a way to feel comfortable, but you’re so full, so needy, and they’re pushing against that sweet spot inside you, and –

You come unexpectedly, an orgasm wracking your body wildly. It takes over your every sense with a crashing wave, your cunt tightening and spasming as Crowley finally withdraws. You’ve never been so stuffed in your life and it’s wonderful.

“How long… How long do they stay?” you manage when your heart is finally at a normal pace again.

“A couple of hoursss, until they realissse they’re not going to grow. Then they’ll disssssolve.”

“Dissolve?!”

“It won’t hurt, my love,” Aziraphale assures you, hand still protectively on your bump. “In fact it’s somewhat of an aphrodisiac.”

You moan and collapse into them. You’re not sure how you’re going to survive this.

@bootlmoth @elleofdragons  @angelic-anarchy27 @yeethaw13 @candlewitch-cryptic @kwyn-q @rat-that-writes @buryustogether @letthenightingalessingagain @ltlthetrifecta @angiestopit @purplefrog1sblog @wereallbrokenangels @angelspathway @clarina04 @belilwen @chaospossum @eightsdoctor @oo-delallymrcrow @silcosmoke @climbingivy97 @live-logs-and-proper @project-sad @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @imagination-phantom @anonymously35 @corgis04 @peytonpenguin37 @catlynharper @unabashedgentlemenpirate @wolfe-houler @darktealrat @mxxny-lupin @willbedecided @detectiveapparatiagreen @shadowluna25 @kaylinelizabeth4004 @xquinn-bartonx @blue-bell22 @foolishprincipalitee @fandomawesomeness @eweweweewewe @latersgaters-steven @llamaproblem @night-affiliate @randompost18 @hunterispunk @jessica-laufeysdottir @uxcaran @bunnymallowo @jae-michael

[qprstobin]

I think some of y'all don't know how to make Mike sympathetic or redeemable or whatever without turning his trauma into internalized homophobia. Like the kid has had SOOO much shit happen to him/in front of him and yet every fic has him basically being a brat bc he can't handle his feelings for Will. He's a traumatized kid he's allowed to be a bit of dick honestly without automatically turning it into a shipping thing

[lothcatthree]

“Your thoughts. I can feel them. Force, Din, you don’t even know,” Luke huffs a humorless laugh, “Our bond, it’s… it’s weaker than it’d be with another Force user, but I can still see your thoughts when they’re that strong. I can… feel what you’re feeling,” Luke explains, unsure if he’s making any sense. Din’s hands freeze on his face and Luke feels a wave of both slight embarrassment and undeniable arousal through the Force. “You could… you mean you could see what I was thinking? Just then?” Din asks, his words slow as he puts the pieces together. Luke reaches his gloved hand to wrap around one of Din’s wrists and he holds his gaze. “Yes. All of it,” Luke breathes.

-

Din gets bored during a meeting and doesn't realize that Luke can feel his thoughts.

Yes, all of them.

[skitskatdacat63]

Do you guys remember that one ye olde grill the grid type thing they'd do with teammates? I think there were several versions. One was, I thought, truth or lie. And the other was trivia? I wanna draw vettonso doing so since we'll never get that irl 😣

[sloubs]

!!!!!!!!! PÉTER MON CRÂNE

j'arrive avec trois ans de retard mais merci @gerceval pour ma vie en fait

[temilyrights]

The amount of patience that it takes to deal with you, it could drive someone insane.

Good luck with your writing 🥰

temily (tara lewis x emily prentiss)

a short one, but a little temily scene. no warnings (thank you for the request!)

sentence fic prompt

“The amount of patience that it takes to deal with you, it could drive someone insane.” Tara groaned and rubbed her temples. “If you insist on watching that terrible show, can you please do it in another room? I really need to get these evals completed and emailed before I sleep tonight.” 

Emily chuckled, and switched off The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. “You know it’s a good thing I have strong self confidence or that sort of comment might hurt a girl.” 

Tara sighed and dropped her head into her hands, “I’m sorry. I’m just stressed about getting this work done and I’d much rather be sitting with you on that couch and it’s got me in an awful mood.” 

Emily pushed herself up from the couch and made her way over to her girlfriend’s desk, unable to stop the small smile that tugged at her lips. “Well, lucky for you I’ve always got work to be doing. I’ll come and join you and then you don’t need to feel like you’re missing out.” She tilted her head, “And maybe afterwards we can agree on something to watch together.” 

Tara looked up at her girlfriend, “You’d do that?” 

“For you? Of course, babe.” She leaned down and gave her a gentle kiss before pulling away with a smirk. “Still driving you insane?” 

Tara's eyes lingered on her pretty lips and hummed, “You? Yes, always.”

taglist: @ry-kills-jemily @sapphic-stress @xrainydazeteax @enduringalexblake @augustvandyne @themoontaxi @prentissology @quinnharkness @storiesofsvu @alexbllake

[sheepcreature]

going insane about shockbee at 2am again, I can't believe it

[rhythm-gam3-add1ct]

Everytime a writer makes an x male reader fic / oneshot/anything i gain ten years of life, 100+ psychic healing, a warm bed, and a shot of gay directly into my veins

[avocado-writing]

Kinktober 8

8. Sex Pollen/Fuck or Die, Chastity, Sexual Competition

You are going to die.

It didn’t take that first time, almost two thousand years ago when they hammered you up, but now? In this bed? Oh, this is it. You’re going to cum to death.

“One more, nightingale.”

“I can’t,” you choke. The tears have been dry for a long time, you simply have no more left in you. Now you’re just exhausted. The apex of your legs felt like it was on fire three orgasms ago and now you’re at a grand total of eight - four from each of them.

They can be utterly petty when it comes down to brass tacks. Your boys started getting under each other’s skin over something small, which turned into an argument, which turned into something they wanted to rope you into. And that became “which first time did you prefer?”

You cannot answer that question. To compare them is to compare apples to oranges, and you want a whole fruit salad. Making love to them both is so utterly different you couldn’t begin to pull at threads because it’s always better together.

They didn’t accept that answer, though. So they took you to bed.

They’ve taken turns fucking you. You’re so full of come there’s no chance of it staying inside you, now. Your hole is fucked-out and pliant, your lovers’ spend dripping from it in a sinful cocktail. Their mouths, fingers, cocks, cunts - all of them have made you come as they shift into whatever the next challenge is.

You’re boneless. You’re exhausted. You’re sure you’ve been taken in every possible way on this bed, all angles, all positions, and you can’t do it any more. You’re not certain if it was Aziraphale holding you up against the wall and pistoning into you that did it, that sex-filled slap of skin on skin; or if it was Crowley pressing his pussy down onto your face while he took deep mouthfuls of your sex which definitely already tasted like both him and the angel.

As Aziraphale moves to put his hand between your legs one more time you hiss and push him away. He immediately retreats.

“Darling?”

“No more!” you cry, throat raw from fucking and moaning. “No more. I’m done.”

And then you can cry again, and suddenly they’re either side of you, not to rut but to comfort. Aziraphale catches your hand and presses soft, feather-light kisses to it, Crowley caressing your face. A glass of water is summoned and they help you drink it, a cold washcloth pressed to your sex. You hiss and then relax as it begins to cool you down.

“We’re sorry, nightingale,” Crowley whispers, yellow eyes full of concern and care. You wave it off.

“Don’t apologise to me. I’ll be fine. Apologise to each other for being so silly. If you’re going to give me eight orgasms again I’d much prefer they were collaborative,” you say, laughing huskily. And it’s true. All is forgiven on your part; if you tap out they’ll listen. Crowley and Aziraphale lock eyes across the plains of you, the remnants of their lovemaking.

“I’m sorry, angel.”

“I’m sorry, Crowley.”

They kiss, long and slow and sincere, and you smile.

“There we go,” you hum, bringing them both to your chest to hold them tightly. “I like fruit salad.”

“What?”

“Mmm, nothing.”

@bootlmoth @elleofdragons  @angelic-anarchy27 @yeethaw13 @candlewitch-cryptic @kwyn-q @rat-that-writes @buryustogether @letthenightingalessingagain @ltlthetrifecta @angiestopit @purplefrog1sblog @wereallbrokenangels @angelspathway @clarina04 @belilwen @chaospossum @eightsdoctor @oo-delallymrcrow @silcosmoke @climbingivy97 @live-logs-and-proper @project-sad @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @imagination-phantom @anonymously35 @corgis04 @peytonpenguin37 @catlynharper @unabashedgentlemenpirate @wolfe-houler @darktealrat @mxxny-lupin @willbedecided @detectiveapparatiagreen @shadowluna25 @kaylinelizabeth4004 @xquinn-bartonx @blue-bell22 @foolishprincipalitee @fandomawesomeness @eweweweewewe @latersgaters-steven @llamaproblem @night-affiliate @randompost18 @hunterispunk @jessica-laufeysdottir @uxcaran @bunnymallowo @jae-michael @jelly-terror @larkiesparkie

[malefactus]

me living eating and breathing buggy x reader fics rn

[heavy-buddy]

the way the osc treats dead dove writers is disgusting