First things first I won’t put nsfw if it’s clearly smut and I don’t want minors reading my things, but I can stop you from doing so, I just don’t condone it
The not fun stuff out the way, so here’s some things what I will and won’t write about!
Who I write for:
Wilbur Soot
Jschlatt (c! or not)
Ted
Mike Schmidt
Rodrick
Draco Malfoy
Tom riddle
Squid game 1 and 2
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NSFW OR SFW
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WONT WRITE
Piss kink, r@pe, shit kink,
WILL WRITE
Dub con,BDMS, innocent/corruption kink, somnophilia, other things like that
I'm a long time reader and I'm here to bring you a piece of mind: you don't have to be ashamed or feel bad to write for Will again or still enjoy his music. He's human too, what he did was bad, he's been paying for his mistakes and life goes on. We'll never know the whole truth about the situation and that's that.
Anyway, I'm happy that you'll be writing for Will again and I can't wait to read your future work 🥰
reader who doesn’t sound like they’ve been dropped out of a magazine, reader who doesn’t have smooth and creamy skin, reader who doesn’t have their hair constantly blown out or put together, reader who doesn’t smell like vanilla or lavender cause their skin is really sensitive, reader who hates themselves and is actually just really plain </3
short blurb because im highkey going feral for wilbur rn (averie read first!!)
rockstar!wilbur x fem!reader
cw: sexual content, age gap (18 + 29)
i like this photo of him so this is like the wil i envision for this
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wilbur had told himself two years ago to stop messing around with fans, that he couldn’t just pull random fans aside and fuck them. but something about how you leaned against the barricade to get a closer look at him on stage, how you looked at him like he put the stars and moon in the sky, how you jumped excitedly when he got on his knees and sang close to you; he couldn’t really help it.
the bathroom counter was cold as your stomach pressed against it. your legs were spread behind you and your eyes were half lidded. wilbur was deep in your wet heat, pulling out just enough for his tip to catch on your entrance before slamming back in.
“what brought you to the show, hm?” wilbur asked, panting. you spoke through your desperate whines. “…mum bought them for me… for my birthday… i turned eighteen…” you gasped as he hit a particularly deep spot in you. “just today?” “no… couple weeks ago… don’t stop…” you practically begged, your fingers clutching onto the counter hard.
your heart was racing as he gripped your hips harshly. you reached down to rub your wet clit and whined softly, your eyes squeezing shut. wilbur was getting close to cumming, and you could tell by how he moved one of his hands up to your hair, grabbing it harshly. “fuck… stay like that…” he groaned out. as he bottomed out, you felt the warmth spread throughout your stomach, and your fingers against your sensitive clit slowed. you found yourself bent over and panting, your eyes now half lidded.
he slowly withdrawed and you heard a soft ‘pop’ noise. your legs felt numb beneath you, and you managed your way to the bed before your legs gave out on you. the bed felt incredibly nice on your sore body. and while you didn’t really know what was to be expected after this, you found your eyes closing and your body drifting off to sleep as wilbur seemed to exit the room.
So after a lot of thought over the last, what 2/3 years? I’ve decided I’m going to write for Wilbur again. I know I know what he did but i actually feel inspired to write for him and I still love his music and content and I don’t wanna act like I don’t
You guys know how when you stay up all night reading fanfics and imagining having a soft romance while you fall asleep, pretending you're falling asleep with your favorite character and then the next morning you wake up and feel super lonely and empty.
schlatt x bimbo! reader, like very sweet and naïve reader and big ol’ mean schlatt
AHHHHH YES
(This is from like 1-2 years ago that I’m now just finishing)
NSFW headcannons
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•when he’s driving he’ll make you push your panties to the side and rubs your clit, making you cum as many times it takes you to get to your destination
•regardless of what your doing theres a 80% chance he’ll come up behind you, and fuck you raw
•sex after arguments can go to ways
1. Soft sweet sex “Mmghhh baby I’m so sorry” *kisses your cheek* love ya’ you know? My sweet girl
2. He BULLIES his cock in you “dumb bitch, always fucking whining about something” *slaps your thigh* “you love this huh? Being a fucking brat and getting dicked down?!”
• fucks you till your brain goes numb
•he LOVES fucking you in public stalls, he just can’t help himself when you dress like a slut (dw he punishes you for it)
•when he punish you I feel like he would a. Make you watching him jerk off and you can’t touch him or yourself or b. You just get nothing at all
• in doggy he’ll pull on your hair to shove his dick in you harder, also to see your fucked out face
•MUNCH
•he will eat your pussy everyday for hours if he could
•loves seeing you tear up from how good it feels, your lip trembling looking so pathetic for him
I know Tumblr doesn't like black people unless as a gateway to being seen as liberal but are we gonna have more Clark fics soon? Anyone cooking smth for the table?
tumblr truly fucking fascinates me bc I’m scrolling through the backrooms tag and im really seeing more x reader fanfictions about Bobby than CLARK 😭😭😭😭😭
I struggled a lot with trying to decide what kinda entity reader would be. I had a lot of ideas, but settled on this one. I’d like to explore other entity ideas if you guys are interested, or if yall have any ideas of your own. I wanna see Bobby get nailed by an entity too.
Spoilers to the backrooms movie.
Now, this would take place some point after Bobby and Kat have died, but before Mary enters the backrooms. Let's say time passes weirdly back there, so it feels much longer there, than the outside.
I like to think Clark has no idea you exist at first. He's too busy trying to just survive in the backrooms, but also dealing with captain Clark, his Still Life. But as he starts to settle in, Clark will notice how the backrooms seem to be... changing.
They're always changing, but this is different. It's like its bending and warping just for him. Suddenly he’ll find his favorite meal, his beloved sofa that he hasn’t seen since the divorce, his old architecture books from his college days, so on and so forth.
He swears he can hear the walls breathing, or the carpet moving under his feet. There is sometimes a rumbling, something that sounds like an old washing machine in another room, but it feels more like purring.
At this point, Clark is so far out few things surprise him. Or maybe he’s just so worn out that he doesn’t have the energy to freak out. So, when the carpet starts gripping at his ankles, or the walls reach out and touch him, well, what can a man do?
Theres a reason Async never finds him, no matter how much they look. It's as if the very backrooms itself, the walls, the floor, the air, denies them access to Clark.
It's almost as if very space becomes hostile towards Async and it’s researchers.in the past the researchers could leave things behind or wander around, but now they find themselves getting lost, seeing things that aren’t there, or dying in strange ways. Like a wall suddenly collapsing, or clipping through the floor and being sliced in half, or someone choking on cloth suddenly spawned in their throat.
As this is happening, Clark is just lead deeper and deeper into this place, and the further he goes, the stranger it becomes. Before, the walls and floor around him made some kind of sense, but it all becomes a strange melting pot of half-forgotten memories repeated over and over again until it makes no sense.
Any normal person would have lost their mind, gone insane, or something, but whatever is coaxing him deeper is holding his mind together, somewhat anyways.
At some point Clark comes to expect the walls being so alive, it’s normal to see the walls rise and fall like lungs, or to feel the carpet grow long fibers so they can coil around his ankles.
Clark will always find what he needs, when he needs it. Sometimes it can be found in uncomfortable and weird places, but if he asks, the backrooms, you, answer.
It's impossible to tell if you’re an extremely powerful entity, or if you’re the backrooms itself, but Clark doesn’t care to question it. Poor Async are falling over themselves trying to find rhyme or reason in it all though.
I like to think Captain Clark is given attention too. He's not technically Clark, but he’s some part of him, a memory of sorts, meaning the walls and reality itself seems to twist and bend for the Still Life.
I don’t think this would end like the movie, Mary might arrive, and she might find Clark, but Clark wouldn’t die to Captain Clark. If the Still Live even tried to kill Clark, the humans would get to see something the human mind won’t be able to comprehend.
Mary may start crying blood and throwing up at whatever appears, twisting, turning, ripping and repairing at the same time, never one form, always changing, constantly and forever. But Clark, who’s been drenching in the power of whatever you are, can only look upon you with wonder.
Clark feels... loved, embraced. As one, two, four, ten, a hundred, a thousand, back to two, or more? Or less? Arms wrap around him, as skin that feels like fabric bellowing in the wind presses against his forehead.
Sleep, it says, in his mind, or out loud, or both. And Clark who’s been relying on you, whatever you are, for weeks, months, years, centuries? Can do nothing but listen.
Here with you he can be himself, he can do what he always wanted to do, nobody to judge him, nobody to stop him, only you, who seems to chitter, pulse and purr at the architecture under his skin.
And maybe Clark stops being human, maybe he did a long time ago when he accepted your attention, your call, the threads you dig under his skin and flush out what made him weak and mortal. But does it matter?
There's never really a thought of going back, why would there be? Clark likes it here, with you, you two could create a reality of your own here if you wanted, but for now Clark likes to bask in your being and presence.
Perhaps you are nice enough to drag the seizing and choking Mary back to where she might be found by Async, not that she’d ever be able to speak or think again, but they can at least bury her, or study her and then burn her. You do not possess the ability to care about anyone but your Clark.
I would like to write about Clark and his entity getting down and dirty, but I’ll save that for another post.
I know Tumblr doesn't like black people unless as a gateway to being seen as liberal but are we gonna have more Clark fics soon? Anyone cooking smth for the table?
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