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snowyknight-17 · 9 months ago

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Jake had too much to drink and this is how it went.

Featuring Jake Evans and my sole survivor, Annie.

A tad NSFW under the cut, but nothing too much. Long post

TW: alcohol consumption

Annie looked out over the docks of Egret Marina. The sunsets here were out of this world.

Natural orange and purple mixed with the green haze of the glowing sea.

This was her favorite settlement.

Pastel colored, sea-side cottages lined the docks and each with little unique touches by the folks who lived in them. The tiny decrepit diner has been revamped with outside seating and working neon. A sweet old fisherman runs it and serves the best fried fish sandwiches.

Annie has been putting so many resources into this location. The water access alone has been rewarding to say the least.

A couple of water wheels were put up to charge the generators; supplying enough power to keep the marina running with a surplus that gets rerouted to HQ.

Water was being collected, boiled and filtered; with enough cans of purified water gathered to send out on caravans for thirsty settlers.

The shops in the main building were slow to build, but coming together. A small garden was cultivating tatos and cabbages, they call it a ‘slaw garden’ for the fish sammies.

Tomorrow she would join the locals in finally setting up an intricate invention of nets to catch lots of fishies.

A new food source would be incredible! Especially if it’s this close to HQ.

There Annie sat, on the roof of the boat house, looking out over a great settlement on a great evening about to turn in with dogmeat. Nothing could rui-

*Loud electrical frequencies reverberate through the area. Like a microphone adjustment after being plugged in*

“Eh hem. Well hheelllooo there commonwealth. This message is for little Miss Annie.”

‘What the…’ Annie checked her pipboy and saw the relay tower OSC-527 was sending out a signal.

“Darlin if you can hear thiss…”

“Jake?”

“I know I don’t alwayss s-say was on my mind, but I have to tell you you somethin…”

‘Was he drunk? He sounds wasted!’

By now the local fishermen were standing outside waiting to hear what the announcer was gonna say.

“You are somethin else! I g-get so worried when you’re gone…”

Annie tuned in to the relays channel swearing under breath,

“I *hic* think you’re the bes pardner a man could ask for, HEY! GET OFF!”

Sounds of a shuffle followed by the distinct voice of McTavish,

“There you are, crazy drunk! Give me that!”

More sounds of a shuffle followed by fast paced footsteps. Running?

“Nnnoo! Aiden’s just jealous of what we got darlin! He thinks-“

“Hold him Theresa! Gods you’re such a bastard sometimes…”

A long pause filled in with muffled movements, finally Aiden came back,

“Um…everything’s fine. HQ out.”

Silence.

Relay tower OSC-527 lowered its disks and went offline. Egret marina folks looked up at a bewildered Annie who could only shrug in response.

Annie lifted her pipboy receiver to her mouth and dialed in to hers and Jake’s private frequency,

“Jake? Everything ok?”

Nothing.

Annie lowered her arm and looked out in the direction of HQ, not sure what to do next. Before she could hop down from the boathouse, static came through her pipboy,

“Hey. Lupe here. You still there chief?”

“Yes. Oh my god is everything ok? Is Jake ok?”

“Um yeah he’s fine, just um, he’s been drinking and I think he had too much.”

A huge smile spread over Annie’s giddy face,

“Yeah it sounded like that. Everyone ok?”

“Mmhmm, except for Aiden. Jake elbowed him in the nose when we tried to get him offline the relay. But he’s fine… I think. Any way are you still at the marina?”

“Yes ma’am. Need me to head back?”

“Do you mind? Jake won’t stop asking for you.”

“On my way. It’s about a 30min hike, so hang tight.”

“Copy that.”

It was getting late by the time Annie made it to the cafeteria. Only a few tables were occupied by staff getting in last call drinks. Aiden was glowering against a wall, arms crossed, a rolled tissue stuffed up his left nostril.

He was staring daggers straight at the bar where sat a lonely Jake.

His vest clad back was turned to them, hunched over with his head on his arms.

Annie couldn’t help but smile. Does he really worry about her when she’s gone?

“Humph. Finally. You were supposed to be here an hour ago.”

“Everyone ok? Minus you of course.”

He said nothing just dead eyed stared her down.

“Well I’m here now, what can I do?”

He leaned off the wall, arms still crossed and motioned to Jake,

“See if you can get him to bed. He won’t listen to anyone.”

With a nod, Annie was off with slow movements to the bar. “Hey partner.”

Jake lifted his, no doubt heavy head and lit up like the sun poking through clouds,

“Darlin! Oh boy am I glad to see you!”

He had her wrapped in a bear hug in one quick sweep. Last time they were this close, they shared a passionate kiss after the gunners were defeated.

He felt the same.

A thin layer of daddy fat over the sturdy build of an all American fix it man. He smelled good too. Engine musk, coffee, beer and a hint of his evergreen soap. His beard was ticklish against her fair skin causing her to giggle,

“I’m glad to see you too friend. I hear you’ve had some drinks…”

He smiled coyly,

“Sshhh I need you to keep a secret, I hid one of the boxes of sasparilla that came in today. Shh.”

He has one finger to his lips and boyish grin in his eyes.

“Uh huh. Hey Frank you short a case of sasparillas?”

The young bartender walked up to them, a rag over his shoulder,

“As a matter of fact I was short one case. Whelp glad that’s cleared up.”

“Huh.”

“Snitch.” Jake looked a little hurt, but his hands were still on her hips.

“You gotta give that back ok. The beer is for everyone. He eat anything yet?”

“I have not seen him eat at the bar.”

“Ok put a Salisbury in the oven and deliver it to his room please.”

Jake began to protest, releasing his wonderful grip from her center,

“Nuh uh, her room. Bring the steak to her room.”

“My room?! Mr. Evans you need food to absorb all that alcohol and you’ll sleep better in your own bed.”

“Oh darlin I’m hungry but not for ssteaks…” a firm grab to her ass emphasized his point.

Thank god for the low lighting in the bar, cuz her face was as red as a beet.

Jake would never be this forward in a sober state, it really was time to get him to bed.

Aiden was at their side, he looked amused.

“He getting to be too much? Need me lug him to his quarters and lock the door till morning?”

“I thought locking doors was against the rules?”

Aiden no longer looked like he wanted to play, so Annie continued,

“No I’ll take him to my room to eat and sleep it off.”

“Fine but come get me if he gets too handsy.”

Annie spoke about her future man like he was dogmeat,

“Aww this guy?! He’s such a teddy bear! He would never do nothin. Come on big guy let’s go eat.”

Jake turned to look just to the right of Aiden and pointed,

“Yeah and you ain’t invited!”

“I’m over here dufus.”

Jake blinked, obviously seeing more than one Aiden.

Jake ate slowly, taking the occasional swipe at Annie’s thigh. Being this close, this alone was starting to be too much. It wasn’t right for Annie to be having the thoughts she was.

Jake was drunk. Not in the right head space and any follow through would be morally icky. Time to wrap this up.

“Alright cowboy, time to turn down.”

As she cleaned up his dinner, Jake watched her with hooded eyes. His vest and scarf were off, shirt unbuttoned to reveal the top of his chest hair. He began to undo his belt buckle as he kicked off his boots,

“Come’er Annie. Lay by me.”

Annie had to gulp her passions down. It really was time to leave,

“That ain’t a good idea Jake. I’d feel better if you slept.”

“Sleepin is not what I was thinkin of doing in this bed…”

His hands were on her hips, sliding further up her torso. His head was in the crook of her neck leaving wet, soft kisses…

DAMMIT ALL TO FUCKING HELL!

Why was this so hard? Just leave!

“No one kisses me like Annie kisses me…”

His accent was thick and lusty and perfect…

Staying for kisses would be fine right?

Annie cursed whatever sex demon followed her around and gently pushed Jake back into the bed,

“No Jake. It’s bed time. Time for bed.”

His big brown eyes looked hurt, but he nodded and asked if she’d at least lay there till he fell asleep. Annie agreed and turned out the lights.

Morning was bright! Too bright…

Jake opened his crusty eyes and tried to blink away the sleep. Why was his room this bright?

As he fumbled around trying to find the light source, the room became clearer.

A big bed with a soft yellow quilt. A slight breeze coming through the window, the washing machine was sloshing on a low level…

‘Annie’s room? Did I sleep in Annie’s room? HER BED?!’

Jake began to panic, ‘had they…?’

He patted down his body and realized he was still in his jeans and buttoned shirt, one sock still on. Jake noticed he was a little sore, but thankfully, not in the fun way.

Not that that would have been bad but…well definitely not how he envisioned their first union being.

Annie was nowhere to be seen, sadly. Would have been nice to at least wake up by her.

“God I hope I didn’t spook her off, say something gross…”

Jake made slow attempts at getting dressed and looking for his other sock when Annie walked in, with a big plate of breakfast.

“Morning partner! Hope you like omelets.”

“Ooo too loud darlin too loud.”

Smiling and in a softer tone,

“Sorry Jake. But you need hangover food and a can-do attitude to start the day.”

“Smells good,”

Jake was dressed and in better spirits since being with her again,

“Whatcha bring me?”

“An omelet with diced tatos, brahmin cheese cooked in plenty of butter. A thick slab of deathclaw bacon and coffee with lots of cream.”

“You tryin to fatten me up darlin?”

“Sober you up honey.”

At that Jake turned red, utterly embarrassed by last nights behavior.

“I can’t remember everything that happened yesterday, but for what is worth, I’m really sorry Annie. I hope I didn’t do nothing that can’t be repaired. That won’t happen again. You have my word.”

Annie smiled as she filled her own coffee mug,

“You were pretty entertaining, but have no worries my dear. You did nothing that would make me care for you less.”

“Gosh you always know what to say. I’m a real lucky man to have you as a friend.”

The quiet built as they ate and it gnawed at Jake. He had to know,

“Did we…”

Annie tensed inwardly,

“No. Nothing happened. You did get a little grabby but I can handle that. Once you fell asleep I went to your room and slept. I’m…not sure I could have stayed virtuous laying in your arms all night.”

Jake nodded, he understood. Annie was so pretty and so popular and loved. Everyone who met her was enthralled. He constantly felt reminded how lucky he was to have her affection. Even if it was a distant affection.

Both were picking at their breakfast now, not sure what to say, until Annie spoke up, tears poking in the corner of her eyes

“Will we…someday?”

Jake chuffed,

“Course we will darlin. I want to be with you, you with me. Us against the world…it’s just…my little girl. I need to find her first.”

Jake had tears of his own threatening to bead down his bearded cheek

“I can’t give what you need right now. And you deserve all I am as a man.”

“Hey Jake. Please don’t get upset. I know how you feel about me. But the thing is, I can care for myself, Laura can’t and she needs her daddy. And that’s something I adore about you. Your loyalty. Your word. You are a wonderful man Jake Evans.”

“I adore your bravery, your patience…”

Annie had her hand running through his hair. Nails running along his scalp, he leaned into the touch so starved for attention.

Annie kissed his forehead and left. She told him she had to head back to the marina to oversee the fishing nets. Something about how HQ could have fish fry Fridays and left him alone to finish breakfast.

And there Jake sat.

Alone again.

She was right here. They were in her bed. This morning could have been different. But like always, he felt he was ruining his chances, and wondered how many more he had left.

#fo4 #fallout 4 #sim settlements 2 #jake evans #SS2 Jake

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nyotasaimiri · 2 years ago

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Arc Two 110

“Mind your head,” Eldie told her guests as they stepped through the hatch. She offered a hand to steady them, just in case. Marcy could hear something snoring nearby as she accepted the assistance.

Arjun snorted and set his coffee down on the work table. More accurately, on one of the dozen books covering the table. “You’re the only one who needs to duck.”

“Oh.” Eldie looked back, and then down, as if only just realizing the height difference. Even Mihre only came up to her shoulder. “I suppose you are right on that. Did you raid the library, Arjun? This is quite the collection. I hope you didn’t try moving them all by yourself.”

“Looking out for my old bones, huh?” It sounded like a familiar topic. “Grabbed some muscle this time. Don’t worry about it.”

Anticipating the question, he reached behind the largest book stack and thumped something. The little raspy snores broke off with a sharp snort and Namina sat up, glowering blearily.

“Why ssmack?”

“Look sharp, our guests are here.”

“Floran is alwayss sharp,” Namina grumbled, but he smiled at the sight of Eldie, and got immediately headlocked by Mihre.

The older floran chuckled wickedly as Namina squirmed. “Ssso, used to hugging floran? Sprout owes me some stories, yes? Whoa!”

Marcy laughed as Namina stood up, Mihre dangling from his neck like a very surprised scarf. “Nyota pulled that trick with me once. Rule one of headlocking: don’t try it if they are bigger than you.”

“The more I hear about thisss Nyota, the less I like,” Mihre complained, still hanging on tight, “because it always Floran looking sssilly.”

“Shall we let the two of them catch up, then?” Eldie asked, her expression very neatly blank as only an apex could manage. The offer was perfectly polite, but her green eyes glittered with surprising mischief. “Do try not to damage the furniture.”

Mihre scrambled up onto Namina’s shoulders in an impressive display of agility, hooking their toes into the niches in Namina’s carapace for balance as he tried to shake them off. “Ah, so you have knowledge of Floran greetings.”

“Much knowledge. Sh— ” Arjun dove forward to rescue his coffee. “Hey, mind the books!”

“I did see you shoot him with a paint ball. This is mostly normal?” Eldie gently shepherded Marcy toward the ladder and away from the wrestling florans, adding helpfully, “The sparring room is upstairs. You are welcome to join us later.”

Mihre managed a thumbs-up before having to reassert their grip as Namina accepted that offer for them.

Marcy laughed as Eldie guided her down the ladder. “Does that happen often around here?”

“Well, usually it is Namina and Hadley, or sometimes Nyota,” Eldie admitted. “We don’t often have guests, you see. We do not usually stay in one place long enough for that.”

Marcy went quiet, thinking. “Is it because of the Miniknog?”

Eldie paused, considering that. The weight of the question settled on her cheeks through the careful polite mask. “Yes and no. Not directly,” she said at last, though Marcy could tell that the thought sat heavily on her as she slid the door to the medbay open. “We have managed to stay off their radar and out of space that they control. But Nyota does not want to stay still, in case we attract their attention too well and bring danger to the people we visit.”

“Fairly correct,” Nyota said. She was sitting up in bed, a comfortable shawl wrapped around her shoulders, and smiled in welcome as Marcy entered the room. “We have also found ourselves quite busy lately. Hello, Marcy. Oh—” Her smile warmed and softened as Marcy abandoned ceremony to wrap her arms around her friend. “I suppose I should open with ‘it’s not as bad as it looks’.”

“I know. You’re tough.” Marcy’s voice was muffled again, and the so-familiar, so-missed feeling of Nyota’s strong arms around her brought hot tears to her eyes. “Just humor me. I needed this.”

Nyota pulled her close. “I did too.” The gentle purr rumbled through them both and made everything feel soft, warm, right. She rubbed Marcy’s back a little, then reached up to bounce a curl that had escaped Marcy’s hair-tie despite Mihre’s best efforts. “You dressed up for me. That’s new.”

“A girl’s got to have fun sometimes, right?” Marcy quipped to cover her vague embarrassment. Mihre was probably right after all, she shouldn’t have bothered looking fancy for this. She felt silly now.

Nyota let go and sat back to get a better look at her. “You look nice.”

Marcy felt a lot less silly now. Or a lot more, it was hard to tell. She swatted Nyota’s arm lightly. “Why are you like this? You’re teasing me.”

Nyota laughed. “Perhaps. But I do mean it. Have fun, and don’t forget to stretch your legs every now and then.”

“If only that would make me taller,” Marcy said, earning another laugh. One of their oldest shared jokes, and it felt so perfect now, just sitting and trading words with her old friend. But it wasn’t quite perfect; Nyota’s hands were cold. Marcy pulled a chair over and sat beside her, pressing the apex’s huge hand between her small hands in an effort to warm it.

Nyota hummed softly and curled her fingers.

Marcy paused. “Am I being rough?”

“No.” Her hand stayed curled, but Marcy could feel her relax slowly, all of the tension fading out of her. “That feels nice.”

#arc two

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girlygguk · 7 months ago

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oh so you want me to start sobbing do you

thank. you. so. much. i don’t even think i have the words to explain how much things like this means to me god i love u 😭 i stopped writing for a really long time shortly after the release of denial because of irl shit and i thought i’d never get back into it. i was always writing small pieces here and there but id just keep them in my drafts. when things were finally starting to get better, i missed sharing my work and so i willy nilly released the teaser for first class to see if maybe anybody thought it was worth reading… and a lot of people loved it??? i genuinely didn’t expect that at all 😭 the response to fc has gifted me soo much confidence in my work, confidence that i had lost during that really weird and dark period in my life! some people may think its conceited for compliments n positive feedback on ur work to motivate and inspire u to want to keep going but that’s literally just human nature? we thrive off connection and we love to be loved!! so i’ll never be able to explain my gratitude for words like this. even a reblog with a #fav tag gets me TEARING UPP LMFAOO. thank u so much for this my darling, i think i may indeed return to denial one day as i will alwayss have so much love for the denial couple xx 💗

denial - jjk (18+)

➵ summary; it's been a plethora of secret meetups, quickies in the bathrooms of his award shows, and 2 am 'you up?' texts during your year-long situationship with jungkook. you both agreed in the beginning that your careers are far too hectic to commit to anything serious, but you can't shake the shitty ache in your chest every time the high wears off, or when you're crawling out of his bed in the middle of the night. trying to exile the shitty feeling of longing that you harbor for him, you spend time with another one of your guy friends. jungkook sees, and he's mad.

➵ pairing ; idol!jk x (f)actress!reader

➵ word count ; 5.3k

➵ rating ; 18+ minors dni

➵ content ; jealous (& possessive 🫣) asffff kook, mutual no strings agreement / fwb au, older (just a lil) reader, taehyung sister reader, secret-ish situashionship, smut/fluff-ish/angst-ish, this is FILTHYY i even shocked myself.

➵ warnings ; teasing, swearing, kissing, fingering, spitting, nipple play, dom!jk, oral sex (f rec.), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (wrap it UP. don't be silly), sexy stuff starts a lil later on in the story so basically pwp.

a/n ; while i'm working on the next chap of my fic i come bearing a gift! this is a oneshot but if y'all enjoy it i have a bunch of ideas for this pairing i could work on and maybe make an additional part! thanks sm for reading, hope u enjoy <3 also this is my first time writing smut, so any feedback is insanely appreciated and encouraged! mwah

Jungkook's room was quiet, the only noise being his soft humming as his thumb dragged down the expanse of his phone screen, scrolling mindlessly through his private Instagram feed. He's already passed a few of his bandmates' photo dumps, leaving a like on a few and a teasing, sarcastic comment on the others. But, then, smirking at his remarks that he finds absolutely priceless, his thumb grinds to a halt as he comes across your latest post.

There you are, in all of your glory. You're posing prettily with an overfilled cup of ice cream from a popular parlour in Seoul Central. A spoon rests against your lips; eyes closed gingerly for the snap. The side of Jungkook's mouth pulls upwards before he can stop it, a soft, dazed smile coating his lips as he stares at you for longer than he'd like to admit. However, the daze ends as abruptly as it began when his focus shifts to the person seated on your left. He recognizes the guy sitting next to you as the leading male in your latest drama, Jae something.

A hot, uncomfortable feeling bubbles in the pit of Jungkook's stomach as he stares at the classically attractive male in your photo. The feeling intensifies tenfold when he notices the spoon clasped in Jae something's hand, and his eyes search every pixel on his phone screen, begging to find this dirtbag's own cup of ice cream. Finally, he scoffs after scouting every inch of your photo for the third time. So you're really sharing a cup of ice cream with this guy? And it's not even for work. And you posted a picture of it on your Instagram. Your public Instagram.

Jealousy claws at Jungkook's throat with vigour, and he has to lock his phone and put it next to him on his bed before he stands up and hurls it at the wall. Of course, he knows he shouldn't and has no right to be jealous. But he can't help it. He can't control his actions and feelings when it comes to you. He's been infatuated since day one, and though you both have the mutual no-strings agreement as your blooming careers don't allow you the time or freedom to commit to something like that right now, he can't help but feel fucking sick looking at the photo of you and someone else.

The stadium is boisterous; fans hastily rush to get to their seats in the various sections surrounding the stage as if the concert would start without them. You were currently on your way backstage to visit your brother before the show began. After five minutes of weaving around equipment and dodging the stressed crew rushing around doing last-minute preparations, you finally arrived at your destination.

Knocking thrice on the dressing room door, a muffled "Come in!" has you twisting the handle and walking through the threshold with a cheesy grin. The seven men—six of which you've become good friends with since your brother introduced you—come into view as you enter the room, each of them beaming a mixture of greetings.

"Happy first show!" You exclaim as you walk towards your brother with a bouquet of mixed flowers. Taehyung takes the gift from you with a smile before placing a kiss on your forehead as thanks.

Jungkook's eyes haven't left you since you stepped foot in their dressing room. He swallows harshly, hoping to rehydrate his mouth as all his saliva has apparently decided to dissipate. Jungkook takes in your outfit, the short Chanel dress hugging the curves of your body and showcasing your smooth, slender legs. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he suppresses his smirk when he sees the long-sleeved white undertop you're wearing. Images of you withering beneath him as he marked the top of your breasts a few nights ago flash through his mind, and he has to blink a few times in an attempt to return back to Earth.

Your gaze meets Jungkook's for a split second, watching him drink in your figure before you look back at the rest of the guys with a smile. Then, stepping back to your original position after breaking from the hug with your brother, your arms motion towards the man that you dragged in with you. "This is my friend, Jae Lee."

That's enough to crash Jungkook back down to Earth as his focus shifts to the tall brunette on your right. Jae Lee offers a quick bow with a smile as the rest of BTS chorus a polite greeting in return. "Nice to meet you guys; I'm a big fan." His voice is deep and rugged, just like it is in the drama he starred in with you. The drama that Jungkook binged in one sitting on release day, but he wouldn't tell you that.

"Likewise," Tae returns with a nod and his signature toothy grin before setting the flowers on the tabletop by one of the mirrors, "we're on in ten—do you know where your seats are?"

You nod at your younger brother's question, patting the pocket of Jae's faded jeans, "Jae's got our passes; we'll go there now and let you guys finish getting ready."

Jungkook is fucking fuming at this point as he watches the interaction, tongue pushing against his lower teeth to stop himself from spewing something that would embarrass the both of you.

You bid them one final good luck before spinning on your heel and exiting the room, a cloud of your sweet perfume trains behind you in your departure, invading Jungkook's senses and rendering him dazed as Jae follows you closely, shutting the door gently behind him.

"God, you guys were insane." You arrived back at your brother's apartment (that he shared with Jungkook) a few minutes ago, the three of you piling through the door as you beelined straight for the couch. "Hoseok has the stamina of a horse, I swear. I'm always shocked whenever I watch you guys perform."

Taehyung laughs from behind you as he shrugs off his jacket before jumping over the back of the couch and landing next to you with a huff. His best friend opts for a different route after ridding himself of his coat, walking into the kitchen to grab a drink of water and hopefully clear his head a bit.

It's bad enough that he had a foggy grey cloud glooming in the back of his mind during the concert, but then he had to sit in an enclosed vehicle with you and your brother on the way home because Tae wanted to spend more time with you. Of course, Jungkook doesn't blame his friend; you have a week off before your next shoot, and you're headed to Gwacheon in a couple of days to get settled in. Usually, you and Jungkook would be utilizing this time off in a very different way, but unbeknownst to you, Jungkook is not in the mood right now. And he's always in the mood.

The bottle of water is downed in seconds, and the crunch of the now-empty plastic bottle in his hand pulls him out of his thoughts. Stepping on the pedal of the garbage can, he disposes of the rubbish and listens to the sound of soft padded footsteps entering the kitchen.

"You needa put that in the recycling bin."

Your teasing is gentle as you approach the ink-covered man, brushing past him lightly as you lean against the island opposite him. His lips pull into a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, and your eyebrows furrow, leg lifting slightly to nudge him with your sock-covered foot.

"What's wrong, grumpy?" You poke, watching as he shakes his head before pushing off the counter and heading out of the kitchen. Your hand reaches out for him a liiiitle too quickly before he can slink away, "Kook? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, ____. I'm good. Exhausted from the show, that's all." He removes his hand gently from your grasp before continuing his departure and leaving you in the kitchen by yourself. A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you head back to the living room, not surprised when your brother is the only one there.

"I'm going to go and pick up the pizza; they shut in 20, and delivery's off for the night," Taehyung informs you as he chucks his jacket back on, "Kook's headed to bed, so we'll just save him some."

You nod at him before falling back onto the couch and reaching for the TV remote. "Drive safe," you call, and he assures you he will, the sound of the apartment door shutting behind him echoing in your ears. That's all you need to hear before you carelessly throw the remote aside and scramble off the couch towards a certain grumpy cat's bedroom.

"Koo?" Your tone is soft, one hand on the door handle of his room, the other rapping gently at the wood.

His low hum from the other side reaches your ears, and you twist the handle, stepping inside quietly before closing the door and leaning against it. You're not entirely sure how to approach this situation. Most of your interactions with the gorgeous man sitting at the edge of his bed with a somber look have had quite a different vibe. Extremely fucking different.

"Tae's gone to pick up dinner, " you try, "I'd say like twenty minutes or so."

He sighs and nods at your obvious hinting, lifting his gaze from the ground and watching as you saunter towards him. The little black dress he first saw earlier today still has him rattled, and your scent getting more robust with each step you take enhances his stupor. You lift one of your legs over his thigh when you reach him, the bottom of your dress riding up as you settle in his lap.

Shoving his dreary subconscious to the side, Jungkook leans forward into you before burying his face into your clothed stomach and inhaling as deeply as he can. Your stupifying, sweet, familiar scent invades his nostrils, and he knows he can always count on that to distract himself. You run your hands through his hair with a mewl as his head rises at an achingly slow pace before it's level with yours.

His eyes are hooded as he closes the distance between you, capturing your lips with his own, and you drink in the soft moan that escapes him when your fingers clutch his hair tighter in your grasp. His mouth is sinful, his tongue delving deeper into your mouth to connect with your own. Instead of your usual teasing fight for dominance, you let Jungkook take control of the kiss, hoping it will soothe the unease you've noticed in his demeanour as of late.

His hands are gliding over your hips, fingers squeezing at the meat of your middle, and you can't help but purr at the feeling, almost as if he's trying to grab as much of your body in his hands as he can. Suddenly the reminder that your brother would be home at any moment returned to your mind, and you reluctantly broke the connection. Climbing off his lap, your feet shakily meet the floor, and your hands reach for the hem of your dress, ready to slip it over your head before you notice the look on his face. He's fighting another internal battle, and it makes you release the fabric in your hands, your dress falling back into place.

"Please tell me what's wrong, Kookie." You mumble, standing in front of him with your hands slumped to your side in defeat. He blows out a quiet breath, shaking his head for what feels like the fifth time tonight before he reaches out for you. Finally, you give in with a deflated sigh, letting him pull you close towards him before he continues your previous actions and clutches the hem of your dress. Dragging the fabric up slowly, he lets it ride just above your stomach before he uses one hand to slip your panties down your legs.

Your eyes flutter shut as the finger hooked into the waistband of your underwear drags across your inner thigh on its journey downwards, his other hand still full of your dress, the thumb on said hand rubbing soft circles against your skin. "Are you together?"

Your eyes snap open at his question, still in a hazy fog from his touches but coherent enough to make out the undertone of his question. His hand doesn't falter in the slightest, your panties hitting the ground with a soft thud, and he drags his hand back up the underside of your thigh when they fall. "No."

So you knew who he was talking about, he thought. "Hm," is all he mutters, the hand on your hamstring bending you at the knee and pulling you abruptly onto his lap. You swallow a yelp as he guides you back over him, unable to help the motion of your hips grinding down when you feel him through his sweatpants.

The feeling that brews inside you when your now bare heat brushes against the fabric of his pants is euphoric, the small wet patch you leave behind being first-hand proof. "10 minutes," you remind in a whisper, leaning forward to attach your lips again, needing additional contact with him more than your next breath.

Jungkook ends the kiss quickly, and it has you pouting when he pulls away. He reaches between you, shoving his sweats and underwear down in one motion, his erection jutting out on demand and hitting his stomach once free. He leans back a little but doesn't allow himself to lie down entirely, and you usher him backwards before his grip on your waist tightens, and you stop your action. You look at him in confusion, his intoxicating chocolate brown eyes lifting from where you're seated to meet your gaze. "Sit on it."

Your breath catches in your throat at his demand, but you follow it nonetheless, his readjustment allowing you to plant your knees on the bed and lean forward slightly. You look down for a split second to grasp at his hardened length resting against his stomach and guide it to where you need it most. You look up before letting it enter you, your eyes flickering over his face and realizing he's already staring at you. He doesn't say anything verbally, but his features give everything away without the need to.

Jungkook leans forward, his hands sliding around your stomach before they reach your back. The flats of his palms cover almost the entirety of your back as his head falls into the crook of your neck. He places a single restrained kiss on your sweet spot, his lips finding it easily as they've visited the area hundreds of times. "Baby," he mutters into your neck, "sit."

And you do.

You finish lining up the tip of his cock at the entrance of your hole before letting go and fully sinking onto him. The mangled breath that he chokes into the crook of your neck paints a devilish smirk on your lips, waiting until you feel his entire length submerge into you before lifting up and slamming back down, harder.

His breathing is heavy as his hands slide down your back before resting on your ass and grabbing a gluttonous handful when you rise. A strangled moan escapes your lips as he squeezes, spreading your cheeks and listening to the elicit sound of your walls sucking him in. You throw your head back in ecstasy, your clit throbbing every time it comes in contact with his balls, the feeling igniting a fire in your belly, arousal coursing through every cell in your body.

"Fucking. Hell," Jungkook curses; his eyes are slits as he glances down at his lap, watching your centre swallow him whole and mercilessly. He lifts one of his hands to his mouth, tongue swirling around his thumb before it presses against your clit, rubbing against it expertly and causing you to spew another strangled moan. "That's it, baby," his tone is low and filthy, and your hands grab onto his shoulders to balance yourself as the pleasure is getting too much.

His torture on your clit doesn't stop, not even when your hips stutter momentarily, the abuse to your cunt pulling at the rubber band holding you together harder and harder with each passing moment. "Stop playing with my clit," you cry, "or I'll fucking cum."

You almost regret opening your mouth because his hand pulls back instantly, and a soft whine leaves you at the loss of contact. You don't think twice before lifting your hips again, about to resume your action of riding him, when all of a sudden, he lifts you slightly, flipping you around until your back hits the mattress. "Wha—" your excuse of a question is cut off abruptly when he kneels down and drags you closer to the edge of the bed, mouth attaching to your clit with vigour.

"Fuck. Fuck." Is all you can mutter, your hands automatically going to his head, fingers threading through his hair and tugging when his tongue hits that part of your cunt that blurs your vision. Jungkook is lost in it, his tongue wrapping around your clit, relishing in the moans spilling from you. Lifting his head slightly, he gathers the saliva in his mouth before he spits on your pussy and dives back in. "What the fuck," you scream as he devours you like he's on death row and your cunt is his last meal, "Gguk—"

"I know, baby," he nods after pulling away for a split second, "just let go." He punctuates his words by sliding a finger, and then two, into your hole, and that's the knot in the fucking noose. His fingers are relentless, pushing all the way into you until they reach that spongey part before sliding out and repeating the same torturous routine. He knows you're close; he knows everything about you at this point. He's proven right when he feels your walls clench around his fingers and shoves his face deeper into your heat in response. His nose is buried in your cunt, tongue lapping and sucking at your clit feverishly, and you lose it. Your moans are silent, your throat not having the power to produce noise anymore as your eyes roll to the back of your head. "Baby," you manage, "I'm fucking cumming."

Jungkook moans into your pussy; its vibration is the tipping point as your vision blurs, flashing white as your orgasm washes over you. Your knees shake, closing around his head as he doesn't relent, your body convulsing and grinding into his mouth as he works you through your orgasm.

Your head is slumped against the pillow as you crash back down to Earth, Jungkook eventually pulling away from your core as you shudder, pressing soft kisses against your inner thigh as he detaches from you. Pulling himself up, he makes his way onto the bed, lowering his strong body over you. He's hungry on his journey upwards, lips dragging against every inch of your skin, his tongue dipping out to wet them when the skin of your leg absorbs their moisture. He explores your stomach, his bunny teeth grazing against your belly button as he gets higher. It looks like he's where he wants to be when he's levelled with your chest. He pulls at the dress that you're honestly still surprised that he's left on you for this long before he lifts it over your head, chucking it to the side without another thought. A grunt leaves his lips when the white long-sleeve you had on under your dress is still there, and he rids it the same, just with more furrowed brows.

A giggle leaves your lips at his frustration before it's replaced with a content sigh as he latches onto your left nipple. Your hand runs through his dishevelled hair; lip caught between your teeth as his tongue wraps around the bud, his teeth grazing at it softly. "T-Taehyung will be back soon," you warn through a moan, "need you inside of me."

A string of spittle drags from your nipple and his mouth as he pulls back, his head tilting slightly as his gaze catches yours. "Still needy," he hums, leaning forward and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips before lifting his hips and grabbing hold of his hardened length. He drags it between your wet folds, the sound of your slickened cunt music to his ears. Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling, still sensitive from your orgasm, but the need to feel him inside you outweighs the overstimulation.

"Beg for it." He says simply, the length of his shaft still firmly in his hand as he drags it through your sticky folds. Your eyes snap open, eyebrows ruffled in astonishment as you stare at the cocky piece of shift above you.

"Jun—" you start, "beg for it." He finishes, his focus lifting from where you're almost conjoined to your face. His face is hard, and you know better than to fight him on this. Your breaths come out shortly; his tone should not be turning you on this much.

"Please." You mewl, your chest heaving once as he presses his cock deeper into folds, not quite yet at the hole you need him to fill. "Please, Jungkook. Fuck me. Fuck me. Ruin me." You spit, losing all sense of self-worth as the heaviness of his lower body against you turns you into a pathetic mess.

His smirk is taunting. It's the last thing you see before your eyes roll back to the back of your head, a disgustingly loud moan booming from your throat as he thrusts into you with one motion. A strangled gasp blows from your lips as he pulls out before slamming back into you twice as hard. Sweat is gathering at the base of his brows, a moan of his own chorusing with yours as he slams his cock deeper with each thrust. You're at a loss for words as the pleasure intensifies, the coil in your stomach bubbling ferociously for the second time tonight. "Does he fuck you this good?" He can't stop himself, the words spluttering from his lips before he has a chance to stop them.

He's leaning a little further back now, his hand pressing against your belly slightly, feeling the motion of his cock sliding into you through your fucking skin. How he expects you to respond right now is beyond you, the only noise you can possibly muster being a high-pitched screech as his pace increases. "Huh?" He spits, spreading your legs wider, lowering slightly to delve his cock deeper into your cunt.

"No." It comes out as a mixture of a gasp and a moan, "Nobody fucks me like you do." A stupid wave of relief rushes over him as he hears you speak, the sound of your squelching walls suctioning him in parading through the room. Your assurance ignites something inside him, and you're surprised you can keep your eyes open long enough to see the transformation. He secures one of your legs around his waist, his hand holding your other open as he plants one of his knees firmly on the bed. He stares at your pussy in awe, watching your clit glisten with slickness before spitting harshly at it; his thumb reaching down to spread it over you. A choked sob leaves your lips at the action before an even louder scream cuts it off; you don't even recognize your own voice.

Jungkook is ravenous. His hips are pulling back at record speed, every inch of his cock sliding out of you until just the tip remains before slamming back inside brutally. "Oh my fucking god, Jungkook!" You screech as he hits that spot deep inside you on every thrust like he's been training for this his whole life.

"You fucking love it, don't you? This what you wanted?" He spits as his cock splits you in two, "You know I hate seeing people touch what's mine. Knew I'd fucking lose it."

"He never touched me. Wouldn't let him." You choke, your back lifting slightly as you feel him push in just that much deeper at your words, "I'm fucking yours, idiot."

Jungkook's hips stutter as your words catch him off guard, cracking his cocky persona for a millisecond before he recovers and grips the meat of your thighs even harder and drills back into you. You're fucking dripping at this point, and Jungkook groans at the feeling. His cock drags the juices out of your hole, and he watches as it slides down your ass, filthily pooling at the sheets beneath you.

You can't do anything but reach your hands out, and he understands immediately, releasing the hold on your legs before leaning down and falling into your arms. Your hands are on the back of his neck as you pull him closer, needing to feel his full weight on top of you in hopes of it taking some of the pressure off your abused cunt. He doesn't stop, even when his face falls to the side of your neck, plastering soft, wet kisses to your skin and pulling a soft moan from you.

Tears are welling in your eyes as he continues snapping his hips into you; the new position you're in means he's permanently in contact with your clit, and it's brutal. The room begins to spin as the familiar feeling coils in your stomach harder than you think it ever has. "I'm so fucking close," he heaves into your neck, and all you can respond with is a nod, the tears that pool at your waterline threatening to spill.

Your hands fall from his hair to his back, fingernails digging into his smooth skin as you try to cling to the last string of coherence you have, "cum in me, Gguk. Fill me up. Fill me." You moan, fingernails dragging down his back just how he likes it, and that's his fucking end. A low growl leaves his lips, goosebumps flooding your arms at the noise.

"Fuck." He curses loudly, hips pulling back in one final shaky thrust before he pushes all the way, your walls clenching tightly around him as he convulses, his release spilling from him and painting the walls of your cunt. He moans tenderly as you milk his cock, trying to pull every last drop of his orgasm from him.

Ten seconds or so pass while you both catch your breath, and you smile giddily beneath him; his heavy body feels comforting on top of you, like your own weighted blanket. You're ready to roll off the bed once he recovers, your hand drawing lazy circles across the expanse of his back before you hear him let out a deep, heaved breath. Lifting his hips back up, he ruts gently, resuming his movement inside of you. Your eyebrows furrow in shock, ignoring the burning feeling that immediately resurfaces as he shifts, "No, Jungkook, you don't have to—" He cuts you off with a kiss, hand reaching up to caress your cheek in a much softer manner than the majority of your night.

"When have I ever not let you cum?" He muses after breaking the kiss, his thumb slipping from the edge of your jaw to press against your lips. Your heart is beating at the fucking sweetheart above you, your lips parting slightly to take in the finger of his inked, calloused hand into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around it, gathering as much spit onto it as you can, just as he taught you, before using your tongue to push it out of your mouth. He smirks at the action, shaking his head as a train of saliva runs from his hand to your mouth. "Fucking filthy," Jungkook hums, his hand falling between you and connecting to your clit before the spit falls off his thumb.

Not that he needed the extra moisture, because you are fucking soaked, he flicks at your nub gently, satisfied as you shudder slightly at the contact. His overstimulated cock pulses inside you, the heat of your pussy making him release a strained breath before he pulls back out and begins to fuck you again. You can't even be shocked at his stamina at this point, many nights before having proven that he is fucking insatiable, pulling four of five orgasms out of you before turning in.

It doesn't take long before you're teetering on the edge of bliss again; the crude sounds of Jungkook's cum inside you, squelching around his cock as he slides in and out of you, are fucking erotic, arousing you even further. "Listen to thattttt," he groans at the noise, his overstimulation long forgotten as he gets lost in you again.

"Oh," you cry at his nasty words, "my shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!" You can't even form a sensible sentence, the pleasure becoming too much. Your back lifts off the bed slightly as Jungkook's hand follows your cunt when it tries to cower away. "God! Please!" You wail as his hand slips, the juices coming out of you causing his hand to slide around messily. He chuckles at the absolutely filthy sight; it's the best thing he's ever fucking seen.

"Good fucking girl. My gooood. Fucking. Girl." He praises as you grip his bedsheets in anguish, your body shaking, breath stuck in your throat as your head lifts toward the ceiling. Your mouth drops open as the band breaks, the tears that were sitting idle beneath your lashes finally spilling out, a loud sob spewing through your lips as you cum. Your orgasm is intense, ears ringing as Jungkook drags it out as much as he possibly can before you're shrivelling away, falling back into his mattress in exhaustion.

You groan lowly as Jungkook slowly pulls himself out of you, grabbing the shirt he discarded halfway through your activity off the floor and using it to capture the liquid that drools out of you. You giggle at the sight, swatting him with your foot as he wipes, "That's disgusting," you cry at his use of a dirty t-shirt to clean you up.

"It's clean! I chucked it on just before you came in," he assures with a smirk, continuing his action and ignoring the eye-roll you throw him. Then, suddenly, your eyes widen, and you all but scramble off his bed, diving for your clothes on the ground before shoving them over your head. He laughs softly at your haste before pulling his own sweatpants back on, minus the underwear. He's about to head to the shower, an invitation to you dangling on the tip of his tongue as he watches you fix your hair and makeup in his mirror. He watches in amusement as you manage to tame your hair but fail to fix the smudged eyeliner at the root of your waterline, giving up with a huff and looking over to him with a teasing glare, "This is your fault."

His shoulders rise slightly, and his mouth is pulled into a faux pout when you deliver a soft smack to his arm, making your way to his bedroom door. He turns to finally head into his ensuite and shower before your strangled gasp meets his ears. He spins around quickly, confusion coating his features before his eyes trail to what you're fixated on.

Taehyung is sitting on the couch, legs crossed beneath him, AirPods in his ears as he munches on a slice of pizza. Your brother looks up when he feels your presence and nods in greeting. Then, fishing one of the earbuds from his ear, he waves the piece of the pie in his hand toward you. You're frozen in your spot, every word in your vocabulary flying out of your head as you're rendered speechless. Your brother pauses the show on his phone before swallowing his mouthful, "Pizza's here."

part two out now💗: click here

#📝 review: apobangpogirlyyy #reblog 🔁#wifey #📁DENIAL.docx

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amenomiko · 2 months ago

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hey! i hope you’re doing well, i miss you and your writing 🥹 i always reread them again and again they’re so entertaining to read ♡ thankyou for keeping the ikesen fandom alive！！wishing you happiness and health alwayss〜

Hello @gentle-lie ❤❤❤I'm doing well,there will be days where I'm striving hard but I'm surviving hahah!

Thank you for always enjoying my work! I feel honored 😭😭😭😭✨✨✨✨❤❤❤❤❤ Wishing you happiness and health too 😚😚😚😚😚❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

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hospitalterrorizer · 8 months ago

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diary263

6/6-7/24

thursday - friday

i think the final check is now waiting for me...

anyways, today i've been reading monster, i got up to chapter 55 about, very excited to read more tomorrow, it's really really incredible and has made me tear up a couple times (richard, the alcoholic (recovering) detective, gosh) it always strikes me how urasawa has these perfect characters, how you jump around, how we spend so much time with richard as another protagonist basically, and how you never feel put out by that. that and the scope and that it doesn't feel like a cheaply pulpy adventure thing, which is fine but like, it has this scope of adventure but it's so tragic, whereas in things, even like berserk, you've got this fantasy setting to absorb some of the pain i feel like, whereas with urasawa and those who seem to follow him (thinking of asano) the places the narrative goes, if expressive and crazy, and with humor, it never feels like some kind of trope-y thing. it's always rather considered and exigent, whatever is going on. the fact that it's so willfully political as well, urasawa's work (thinking on 20th century boys and it being so focused on japan's changing nature, the kinds of religions which appeared, (much more i imagine but i need to go back to it i think to say much more) and here in monster the weight of ww2 leftover on germany, the cold war, all that atrocity and the still present forms of neo-fascism, i suppose again there's this tendency one can see in japanese art dealing with politics where one sees the villain is really just someone who wants to make things 'better' or something but urasawa's good at subverting that i think, the depth doesn't negate that entirely but it is more the case that, beyond just being flawed, the sense of tragedy around everything makes the motives actually complex, rather than being like, 'well he thinks he is right so is he truly a villain?' and also i need to learn more of why johan started a 'revolution' in kinderheim 511 and stuff. insane stuff happens in the story though. i do like that it paints the struggle to be good as constant and painful, that tenma struggles to descend to the level of murderer, the notion i guess in the morality of the work that one cannot take that back, every death is rather weighty. and again, i keep returning to the fact it deals with xenophobia in a rather like, pointed way, in a way that's not really interested in even pointing at two sides, rather like, pointing at a fact of history and its sustained effects. there are minor things i see and find interesting as like, i guess counter-points to the work, as in the reliance on criminal psychology for characters or characters who are criminal psychs and how that is, thus far, unexplored as anything other than a 'true science', it's interesting how that goes, though.

sudden pangs of missing dededede washing over me, as well. strange.

anyway here's a cute pic i found of a woman standing in front of a yakitori stand on the lolita gallery archive thingie:

i love that.... those festive banners hung over stalls in japan are really pretty to me, they're so perfectly garish, over-bright, oddly contradictory, there's violence in them kinda, to me. i want to absorb that in how the cover looks on some level, i tried it on the single art for north american razor apples:

anyway i am getting pretty close to getting this record done now i think, so i really need to get started on the cover art. soon the usb hub i ordered will get here and getting back into drawing will be easier cuz i can just leave that plugged in alwayss.

i did one song today, there's like one for sure left, and 2 maybes and there will probably be more, i think, as soon as this next listening of the album occurs, but we'll see. it could be less intense than i think and it could all be like...good. idk. it might sound weird but maybe that's just the sound i'm at. i'd like to figure out something for the next record, a sound, i think that's gonna be centered on how i process the drums. i also figure, i think i want it to sound more 'dangerous' and fucked up, i think, even if i write a rather poppy thing or part, i want to be using sends that have glitchy things going on, weird squealing going on no matter what, so maybe i'll try and use some of those jack dark plugins as weirdo delay things, see what that can do, mix them with the next reverb/room setup i come up with, less saturation on the master and more weird, not spatial stuff, but like, textural noisy stuff. idk. we'll see, that might be hard to figure out / get right.

anyway, we're gonna go out tomorrow so i need to sleep so:

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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thegirlsgirlsstuff · 10 months ago

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WELCOME TO PART 2 BITCHES-

don't call them that

okay sorry mother

WELCOME TO PART 2 PEEPSS

SO IN THE LAST POST WE LEFT OFF AT SO LONG, LONDON, LETS CONTINUE

SONG 6. BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM

THE. JUMPCARE. THAT'S IT. THAT'S WHAT THE SONG IS ABOUT. I DIED DEAD AT THAT PARTICULAR PRANK MY GODDDD, I MEAN MOTHERS' DERANGED LAUGH?? SHE KNEW EXACTLY WHAT SHE WAS DOING AND SUCCEEDED DOING IT DAMMIT, BUT NEEDLESS TO SAY I LOVED THE SONG ITS SOO CATCHYYY

SONG 7. FRESH OUT THE SLAMMER

THIS. CAN WE- CAN WE TALK ABOUT THISS??? ITS SOOO GOOD?? Someone on Youtube said that it means that she is running back to her mental health, and now that she is free, I am not sure from Joe or Matty but i dont really give a fuck she is not going to risk anything for the sake of her mental health and idk that theory is actually really goood, and the only thing i can think about while listening to this particular song, but I LOVED LOVED LOVED THIS SONG, THERE ARE SO MANY LYRICS AND RHYTHMS AND MELODIES AND I AM HERE FOR IT AND I LOVE IT, ITS DEFINITELY IN TOP 5.

SONG 8. FLORIDA!!! (FT. FLORENCE + THE MACHINE)

THIS. THIS WAS EVERYTHING I EXPECTED IT TO BE AND SO MUCH MORE I AM LISTENING TO IT ON REPEAT, I MEAN THE WAY FLORENCE'S AND MOTHERS' VOICE MIX???? PERCTIONNN. THE RHYTHM?? PERFECTIONN. THAT ONE PART WHERE FLORENCE IS JUST CASUALLY WEAVING MELODIES LIKE NO BIG DEAL??? THE DRUMS?? THE FUCK ME UP FLORIDA????? MY GOODDDDD THE QUEENS SERVED, THEY ATE AND LEFT NO CRUMBS. THIS SONG IS FOR SURE IN FIRST FIVE.

SONG 9. GUILTY AS SIN

so, this song is like often forgotten by me, like I wouldnt want to listen to it because I can't really remember what happens it BUT. BUT MY DUMBASS ALWAYS ENJOYS ONCE IT STARTS PLAYING CAN WE JUST TALK ABOUT THE MELODIESSS??? THERE ARE SOO MANY IN THIS ONE I LOVEE ITTT.

SONG 10. WHO'S AFRAID OF LITTLE OLD ME?

MY. GOD. I THINK I DIED. IT GAVE SO MANY WITCHY VIBESSS, IT WAS LIKE READING A BOOK WHERE THE MAIN CHARACTER IS A WITCH AND ALSO AN ANTI-HERO, IT GAVE SO MUCH MALEFICENT VIBES, ITS LIKE THE PERFECT VIBES OF WRONG ME AND YOU DIE LIKE WHEN SHE SCREAMS WHO'S AFRAID OF LITTLE OLD ME AND THEN SAYS YOU SHOULD BE IN A REALLY LOW VOICE??? CHILLS, LITERAL CHILLS ALL OVER MY BODY,

Someone said it gave evermore and reputation mixed vibes and i have never agreed so fast with someone before

Okayyyy so I end part 2, here go for part 3 here, and for part 1 here, if you have somehow missed it.

LOVE YOU ALWAYSS BYEEE

#the tortured poets department #taylor swift #florida!!!#but daddy i love him #who's afraid of little old me?#guilty as sin?#fresh out the slammer #So I did my best to lay to rest #All of the bodies that have ever been on my body #i am having his baby #no i am not #unhinged stuff #girly shit

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pcrplevenom · 10 months ago

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🌟

Octavia

Loki

Rengoku

Enmu

Send a 🌟 + a name and my muse will talk about their bond to that character!

Octavia

"She has a lovely personality, and a ssinging voice to match. I love her dearly, and I have to make sure being ssafe is a priority. I do enjoy Octavias' performances, even if I ssit further back to give sspace resspectfully."

Loki

"I'm not ussed to monster hunting, I don't have the right equipment either. But alwayss eager to help Loki out whenever I can. She's affectionate, and I do appriciate it entirely!"

Enmu

"I'm not surprised how loyal he is to me, it'ss rather endearing and I ain't complaining about that part! Though, a little clingy if I'm gone too long, Enmu certainly showss how much he missed me in a few odd ways."

Rengoku

"The Flame Hashira, and I'm his tsugoku-meaning, I train under him to learn his forms and how to properly execute them. Rengoku is incrediby kind hearted, and I might've stolen his haori as a ssign of my affection."

#interactions; inbox memes #murukuruandfriends #Flames and Gold {Soldan x Rengoku}#Sweet dreams within nightmare {Soldan x Enmu}#Monster hunting party {Soldan x Loki}#Songbirds and snakes {Soldan x Octavia}

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jpegink · 2 years ago

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numb

#I KNOW IM LATE. SORRY I WAS DOING STUFFFFFF I JUST MANAGED TO START THIS TODAYYYY #ranboo #ranboo fanart #dsmp #dsmp lore #dsmpblr #dsmp ranboo #cranboo #cranboo tag #i missed them a lot #garabatos #mcyt #dream smp #artists on tumblr #i worked really hard on this #please dont let it flop like alwayss :((((#jpeg.art

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remcycl333 · 3 years ago

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Heyy! So I've been manifesting a sp for sometime I affirm alot and also visualize him as my husband and my lover. Can you please give me some more tips on manifesting a sp.

Thankyou <3

hi!!

my main tip is honestly u know enough, and just apply that information and be patient. this took me a long time to learn in my journey personally, but it’s what rlly changed things for me and got me to see results. you know everything you need to know, you’re not missing any piece of information. just relax, say your affirmations, and know that it’s coming!!

something rlly important to remember while manifesting an sp is that you have no idea what they’re thinking. so we’re often quick to assume that what we’re doing “isn’t working” when in reality their minds are leading them to text you, or ask you out, or giving them the idea to go to a certain place so they randomly bump into you.

remember, you may want it right now and are discouraged that you’re not getting it instantly, but you’re still gonna want it in a week or two. so be patient and discipline yourself!! it’s here, there’s nothing for u to worry about:)

also my main piece of advice with sp will alwayss be to make sure you’re thinking of them positively. if you’re bored with affirming just try to think how you would if you were together. think about how much you love them, how happy you are together, how perfect they are for you, etc

i hope this helps!! 🤍

#asks #law of assumption #manifesting #manifestation

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our-smooty · 6 years ago

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Wilting Roses

Fandom: Good Omens

Rating: Teen

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley

Tags: Pining, Mutual Pining, Bad coping mechanisms, Drinking, Love Confessions

Summary: No one, if asked to describe Anthony J Crowley, would use the word patient. Flash maybe, flamboyant for sure, possibly even mischievous. But not patient. Crowley was the type of person to honk his horn one second after the light turned green, the type to roll his eyes when the person in front of him at the coffee shop dared to order something more complicated than the bare basics. He was always moving, swaying, fidgeting with something or other and anyone who knew him knew that.

No one, if asked to describe Anthony J Crowley, would use the word patient. Flash maybe, flamboyant for sure, possibly even mischievous. But not patient. Crowley was the type of person to honk his horn one second after the light turned green, the type to roll his eyes when the person in front of him at the coffee shop dared to order something more complicated than the bare basics. He was always moving, swaying, fidgeting with something or other and anyone who knew him knew that.

Not that there were many people who really knew him. The other demons in Hell knew him in the vaguest sense, like co-workers who’ve worked in different departments for 6000 years. Oh sure some of them felt they knew him, had him figured out, but that was all based on what Crowley wanted them to think. He submitted reports that were more lie than truth--which really, they should have expected as he was a demon--and carefully cultivated his persona as a confident, irreverent bastard and Hell fell for it.

No the only person who knew him well enough to speak on his actual personality was the angel. Not at first, in the beginning, but after a few thousand years one could say Aziraphale knew the demon better than anyone else and even he would have described Crowley as impatient. He was always speeding around London, trying to get where they were going as fast as possible. He watched Crowley, time and time again, drink his tea or coffee before it was cooled enough, burning his tongue. More than once Aziraphale had had to ask him to “settle down, dear boy, you look like you’re going to crawl out of your skin!”.

So he probably would have called Crowley patient either. But that wasn’t entirely true. In fact, Crowley may have been the most patient creature on God’s green earth. Because for 6000 years he’d been waiting, and pulling back, and reigning himself in. It was only natural that after all that time, things would spill over eventually, wasn’t it?

Crowley and Aziraphale were, as was usual for any given night of the week, sharing a bottle of wine in the backroom of the bookshop. They’d had dinner, and spent most of the morning going through the new books Adam had added to the shelves. Crowley had found a kids corner--that certainly hadn’t been there before-- in the back west bit of the shop and had spent hours teasing Aziraphale over the cutsie tiny chairs and shelves.

The wine was good and the company even better. Aziraphale wasn’t drunk yet, but Crowley was well on his way, his glass barely half empty before he was refilling it. There was a brittleness to the demon, a nervousness that was unwarranted based on the relaxed day they had had together that hadn’t been there when he was sober. It was only six months after The End that Wasn’t, so Aziraphale could understand some of the skittishness, but it was entirely out of character for the normally confident Crowley.

Aziraphale loved Crowley’s confidence. He loved Crowley, period. He just hadn’t admitted it to himself until quite recently. After the bombing in WWII he’d felt love so strong for the demon that it hadn’t been possible to ignore it anymore. But, honestly, he’d probably loved Crowley since the beginning, when he’d spoken to him and joked with him in a way nobody ever had. Which made it all the worse that they could never be together.

Because just thinking about what Hell would do to the demon if they found out was enough to put him off eating for weeks.

So it was understandable that Crowley’s discomfort was upsetting to Aziraphale. “You seem unsettled,” he observed, watching as Crowley filled his glass once again. “Is there something on your mind?”

“Noooo,” Crowley said, his voice going high-pitched as he lied. “Nothing at all, angel!”

“Are you sure?” Aziraphale cast a glance to the bottles on the table. “You’ve had quite a lot to drink.”

“S’not that much,” Crowley snarked, gesturing with the cup. Not a drop spilled, but Aziraphale knew that after a few more Crowley would forget to be so careful.

“Those are three of my best bottles from 1920.” Crowley leaned in and actually looked at the bottle, raising an eyebrow and nodding.

“You’ve got me there,” the demon admitted guiltily. “Ssstill doesn’t mean anythings wrong.”

The thing was, Aziraphale remembered a lot of other times that had been just like this. Times when Crowley would get skittish and cranky for no discernible reason. They were often followed by long periods of silence where he wouldn’t hear a peep from him. Sometimes for decades. Aziraphale wasn’t sure if he could handle not seeing the demon for 20 years, not after what they’d been through.

“Oh really, dear. I think I know you better than that!” Crowley laughed hoarsely and Aziraphale was reminded of Nanny Ashtoreth, with her sharp wit and dry humour.

“Ssure you do, angel,” he rasped, voice rough with alcohol and something else Aziraphale couldn’t pin down. “Cause you’re sso clever. Nothing gets passt you, does it?”

Aziraphale might not be the quickest when it came to sarcasm, but Crowley was exceptionally drunk and very obvious. “I feel like you don’t really mean that, dear. Is there something I’ve missed?”

Crowley lept up unsteadily to pace the backroom floor. He only stopped when he nearly toppled one of the angels’ “to read” piles. “You can’t not know. Everything I’ve done… ssso many yearsss--”

Of course Aziraphale knew, wanted, and dreamed, but he never allowed himself to hope. “Whatever it is, I apologize for it, Crowley. You must know I’d never hurt you on purpose.”

But that just made Crowley more agitated. “Oh of coursess. Because the angel would never, could never, do anything not angelic!”

“You aren’t making any sense!” Aziraphale shouted, getting frustrated. “If you would just tell me--!”

“You sshould already know!”

Silence followed the ringing intensity of Crowley’s voice, only broken by the demon’s heavy breathing. Aziraphale gaped at the other; Crowley had never, not once in 6000 years, raised his voice at him. The demon was more the kind to get quiet when he was angry, to hiss and snap instead of yelling. Though apparently, Aziraphale had been wrong, and when pressed, Crowley could explode just like anyone else.

“You alwayss pull away and I--I accepted that ‘caussse I know I’m too--I’m too much,” Crowley hissed, his hands coming up and gripping at his own hair. “I thought I could--thingss could stay the sssssame but--”

It was all Aziraphale needed to hear, for him to finally admit he was being a coward and ignoring the obvious. Yes, he had hurt Crowley again and again and he knew it, had been lying to himself. Because an angel couldn’t possibly cause that much pain to a creature of God, even if he was a demon. That didn’t seem to matter because Aziraphale had been so busy denying his feelings and trying to be the perfect angel, that he’d been hurting Crowley for nearly 6000 years.

“I can’t--I tried and it’ss been ssssix months--but I can’t angel,” Croley sobbed into his own knees. Not 10 minutes ago they’d been chatting about visiting Adam, and the Them in Tadfield next month. Crowley had seemed tense but Aziraphale would have never guessed this deep of a hurt was hidden within his friend. Now he knew.

“I’m g-going. I wanted to tell you--if you need me. You can call and I’ll come but I’m going, Aziraphale.”

The angel’s breath caught in his chest. Where would Crowley go? America, or somewhere farther? The thought of Crowley floating through Alpha Century alone and lost was piercing.

“Crowley,” he started, his voice shaking, “ Oh Crowley I’ve been so cruel to you.” He stood and walked the few meters over to stand in front of the demon. He was still wearing his glasses, though he’d shed his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his button-down. Aziraphale was, as usual, still properly dressed, though his tie was loose. Now, he fiddled with that hanging fabric as he tried to compose himself.

Crowley, in the meantime, was already refuting the angel’s statement. “No, no it’sss nothing I don’t deserve. I jussst can’t…” Crowley shied away, physically leaning backward to create distance while his drunken legs stayed put.

“No, no. Dearest Crowley, will you please sober up so I know you will remember this?” Crowley shuddered and some of the bottles refilled, though not fully. Aziraphale knew Crowley was probably still intoxicated, but not to the point of blacking out. It would have to do.

“Don’t make this harder, angel,” Crowley rasped, clutching at his shirt just above his heart. “Let me go, please.”

And if Aziraphale was less greedy, he might have. But he always had been a bit of a bastard who couldn’t let go of the things that were his. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been so blind, so selfish. If you never forgive me I’ll understand but I want you to know that you are the most important thing in my life and that I will do everything in my power to make the last 6000 years up to you.”

He wasn’t sure how he expected Crowley to react, but complete silence was definitely not one of the options he’d imagined. A sharp come back, or tears even; Crowley was always prone to emotional reactions. But this quiet Crowley was new and very, very still. So Aziraphale decided it was his turn to take the first step.

Slowly, so the demon could see his every move and pull away if needed, the angel reached out. As carefully as he could he used soft fingers to unclench Crowley’s own from his shirt and hold them Aziraphale’s chest. With strength far beyond what his corporation would have had if he was human, he hauled Crowley up into a standing position. Crowley watched each movement with wide yellow eyes hidden behind tinted glass.

“I remember how, in the Garden, you spoke to me with such kindness, unlike anyone else ever had. And then, in Paris, and the Blitz, you saved me and I trampled on your feelings like… like they were nothing. You asked for the Holy water and I left you without even asking why you really wanted it, then when I did give it to you I accused you of moving too fast. Crowley, I’ve been stringing you along for millennia, abusing your kindness and taking.”

They were closer now, though Crowley was still looking away. Aziraphale used one hand to gently guide the demon’s chin to face him. Their eyes met and Aziraphale wasn’t surprised to see a distinct wetness in Crowley’s. “I’d like to give you something this time. I don’t know if it will make up for so many years but--”

“Stop talking and kiss me, angel,” Crowley snapped, though his tone was breathy. Though his nerves were frayed, Aziraphale couldn’t stand to make the other wait any longer, so he closed the gap between them, slanting his own lips over Crowley’s and swallowing the whimper that escaped the demon.

Incredibly soft, and a little cool, and--Azirphale’s mind was spinning as he tried to catalogue every minute detail about the scene. Crowley pulled his hands from the angel’s grasp and Aziraphale was about to pull away when they returned to clutch at his back. The demon continued to make small, wounded noises as Aziraphale sucked on his bottom lip. Crowley tasted like wine and something smokey. It was lovely and the angel couldn’t help himself. He just had to dip his tongue inside to get a better taste.

“Aziraphale…” Crowley moaned, his knees going weak which forced him to hold onto the angel for dear life. “Ngh.”

“Oh, terribly sorry dearest. Let's just move you to the settee, there you go,” Aziraphale fussed, practically dragging Crowley onto the furniture. Not that the demon was resisting, he was as boneless as his snake form suggested. He let himself be draped over one side of the settee, then arranged into position as Aziraphale got comfortable. The angel was seated as closely as possible, an arm draped over the demon’s knees with the other playing in his auburn hair.

“Is that better?” he asked lowly, his lips close the Crowley’s ear. The demon shivered, goosebumps breaking out over his skin at their closeness. Aziraphale admired the reaction with a fond smile. “Lovely.”

Crowley flipped so his head fell under the angel’s chin, his legs interlocking with the others. “Is this a dream?”

A soft, slightly sad chuckle. “No dear, it isn’t. I’m very much here with you, and I’m not leaving.”

“S’a really real dream,” Crowley mumbled, drifting off. Aziraphale would argue with him about the realness of reality when he woke up. He may be more willing to hear the angel out after getting a good rest.

If Aziraphale had expected it to be easy to undo 6000 years of rejection and distance, he had been extremely niave. Crowley still had a tendency to distance himself, like a defence mechanism against a thousand past hurts. Aziraphale went out of his way to show his love explicitly, to care for and pamper him at every opportunity. But it didn’t seem to be enough.

Within just a few days of their mutual sharing of feelings, Crowley began to close himself off again, to hide behind snark and self-deprecating humour. He still let Aziraphale hold him, spoil him with praise and presents. But he never reached back, didn’t ask for or give affection unless Aziraphale moved first. Like he was still scared he’d be rejected. Which, considering the way Aziraphale had treated him in the past, was an extremely concern valid.

At first, the angel had thought Crowley wanted space. But then he’d noticed how content the demon seemed when Aziraphale put an arm around him on the street or tucked a strand of hair behind his ear when they were reading together. He definitely wanted the attention, but he seemed unable to reciprocate, even if sometimes the angel caught Crowley with a look like he wanted to so badly.

But how to bring it up? Aziraphale hadn’t wanted to just spring it on the other, but it wasn’t like Crowley was going to say anything. He was stuck. So as usual, when he had a problem he couldn’t solve, he turned to reading, fretting, and snacking. Which worked for a little bit before he remembered the way Crowley always kept at least a foot of space between them unless Aziraphale closed the gap. Then he was back at square one.

That pattern could have gone on for quite some time, had Crowley not begun to put even more distance between them. That one-foot gap became two, then three, and then it was almost like that night a week ago hadn’t happened. Crowley kept his distance much more firmly than in the beginning, to the point where Aziraphale could barely get close enough to hold hands without a mad dash. And when he did get the chance to hold the demon, he always made this tiny sound, a sad sigh that sounded like relief. That was when the angel knew he had to say something.

The time came one night while they were, for once, at Crowley’s flat having a glass of wine. Aziraphale had stopped by unannounced, though he knew that didn’t matter. Crowley invited him in with only token protests again as usual and Aziraphale had procured them a bottle of Bordeaux and two glasses.

“So to what do I owe the pleasure, Angel?” he’d asked, draping himself over one of the austere chairs in his equally austere livingroom. Tension rippled through every part of his being, his aura a spikey, sickly grey. Aziraphale noted the lack of a sofa or any seating that would allow them to be close with a soft sigh.

“Just thought I’d pop in. I found this lovely vintage on one of the back shelves of my cellar and I knew you’d appreciate it.” Deciding to get to the bottom of this once and for all, Aziraphale walked around behind Crowley’s chair and leaned in close. “Do you remember that year, darling?”

Crowley squinted at the bottle, his shoulders mildly tensed from their suddenly close proximity. “1959, you spoil me, angel.”

“You deserve only the best, Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured, letting the bottle fall carefully into the demon’s lap.

“Hm?” Crowley asked as Aziraphale leaned down, nuzzling against firey hair. As usual, Crowley didn’t shy away from the touch, but there was that little sigh like he’d been waiting. Aziraphale tightened his hold around the demon’s shoulders guiltily. He really should be taking better care of him.

“I’ve missed you, dearest,” Aziraphale hummed, stretching over to kiss Crowley’s forehead. Crowley frowned in confusion and twisted around to look the angel in the eye.

“You saw me yesterday, not even 24 hours ago,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. A few more soft kisses and Aziraphale pulled back, setting the bottle of wine on a side table. He knew he was making Crowley uncomfortable; the demon never did like not knowing what was about to happen. Better to get things done quickly, and avoid any undue stress.

“I did, but I always miss you when you’re away from me. Besides, you know that isn’t what I meant.” Crowley’s face furrowed in confusion, so maybe he didn’t. “You’ve been--Am I overwhelming you, Crowley? It’s just you’ve been distant…”

“No!” Crowley interjected, immediately twisting around to fully face Aziraphale. “No, no, angel it’s not that, I swear.”

Aziraphale let out a relieved sigh of his own. “Oh good, I was quite worried.” He rewarded Crowley’s honesty with a soft kiss on the lips. “Will you tell me what the problem really is? I hate that you--I want you to be comfortable with me.”

Crowley tried to lean into the kiss, encouraging it to turn into something needier. But Aziraphale held firm, pulling back and waiting for Crowley to answer. It was harder than expected--once he started kissing Crowley it was nearly impossible to stop--but he managed for the greater good of their relationship.

Initially, Crowley mumbled his answer so badly Aziraphale couldn’t understand a word of it. With a raised eyebrow and a gentle squeeze around the shoulders, he encouraged the demon to try again. “I didn’t--I don’t want to move to fast for you. I know I’m a lot and that you don’t really... Well, I know you don’t want me all over you all the time so I thought it’d be better like this.”

Aziraphale was shocked; where had Crowley gotten that idea? You go too fast for me. Oh well, maybe this was the angel’s fault, even if he’d never meant for it to happen.

“Love, that was over 40 years ago. And I should have never--well the blame is entirely on me for this it would seem.” With cautious movements, Aziraphale walked around to stand in front of the chair, facing Crowley head-on. “I should apologize for not making my intentions clear, for not just bloody talking about it!.”

Crowley continued to stare at the floor as Aziraphale continued. “You do not go too fast for me Crowley. Well, you do when you’re driving but not in that other way.” Bending down to rest his palms on Crowley’s knees, Aziraphale made sure to catch his gaze. “I was scared of what Heaven and Hell might do, but not anymore. We don’t have to be afraid anymore, dearest.”

But Crowley was shaking his head, his golden eyes darting away and around the room. “I don’t know how! So many years, sso many times you said--Not that I blame you--”

“Love, you’ve been so patient,” Aziraphale praised, his smile cutting off the other’s tirade. He took one of his hands and used it to cup Crowley’s cheek, cradling it reverently. “You deserve to get what you’ve been wanting all these years. I want to give that to you.”

Cautiously, his eyes still averted, Crowley reached out and placed his hand on Aziraphale’s cheek, mirroring the angel’s position. It was the first time the demon had touched him since that initial night. “This’s stupid, I’m sstupid!” Aziraphale noticed his lover’s eyes were damp, and his lip caught between sharp teeth. Obviously, Crowley’s distress was more intense than he’s realized.

“You’re lovely, and so, so good,” he whispered, nuzzling against the hand on his cheek. “I want to spend every day for all eternity holding you and having you hold me.”

Crowley’s hand was trembling, but he didn’t remove it. He actually seemed to lean closer towards Aziraphale’s warmth. “M’still…” The angel let him struggle for a second before making a suggestion.

“Worried, relieved, scared?” he offered, unsurprised by Crowley’s shocked glance. “Me too love. I’m absolutely petrified.”

That got Crowley to laugh a little as he finally--finalyl!--brought his other hand up to pull the angel into a sweet embrace. Aziraphale couldn’t have felt more proud of his brave demon. Crowley always had been one to take risks, which just showed how much he cared for his relationship with Aziraphale. He’s been so cautious, so gentle, so patient for 6000 long years.

“Just in case I haven’t been clear enough,” Aziraphale muttered into Crowley’s hair, “you can touch me whenever you like and I will always enjoy it darling.”

“Ngk,” Crowley said, burrowing his face into the lapels of the angel’s coat so the angel couldn’t see his blush. “Don’t jusst say that!”

Aziraphale laughed, high and bright and he switched to holding his demon around the waist. He could feel the despair and isolation bleeding from Crowley’s aura, replaced with contentment and peace. Not to mention the elation the angel felt at having Crowley reciprocate his affections. The plants in the next room over began to bloom and grow at a rate never before seen on earth.

“You know I can’t lie to you Crowley.” That just made the demon squirm more. Impulsively, Aziraphale stood up and put his knees beside Crowley’s, sitting in his lover’s lap. Crowley grunted in surprise but kept his hold on Aziraphale’s shoulders. “I’m not too heavy, am I?”

“You’re perfect, Aziraphale,” Crowley answered, his voice muffled by layers of clothing. Aziraphale settled in more, getting comfortable for what he hoped would turn into a nice, long cuddle. The red wine he’d brought over could sit out for a while without any harm. And Crowley seemed to agree because he sighed, this time with happiness. It would be nice, for once in 6000 years, to have nothing to do other than enjoy each other's company.

And when they did go to visit Tadfield, if, in the middle of a tea party consisting of a variety of beings and types of people, Crowley took Azirapahle’s hand in his as easy as breathing? Well, Aziraphale could blame his misty-eyed smile on the absolutely delicious biscuits and jam.

#Good Omens #aziraphale/crowley #azirapahel #crowley #crowziraphale #ineffable husbands

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