#bad writing i’m so sorry

[nctangelz]

IS THIS WHAT LOVE FEELS LIKE?

tags :: @yjjnfied

summary :: sooyoung finally gets something off her chest

sooyoung couldn’t keep her eyes off of wooyoung.

she couldn’t stop staring at him, she couldn’t stop admiring all of his features, his beautiful eyes, how his hair was so fluffy yet looked so perfect, how his dimples show when he laughs, how his lips were so pink and so soft — which was her main problem. she couldn’t stop staring at the boy’s lips. she kept having the desire to kiss him, to feel his lips pressed up against her own, but she couldn’t help but feel guilty about her thoughts.

was it wrong, to imagine kissing wooyoung? they had gone out quite a few times, and wooyoung has always given sooyoung the impression that he was interested in her, but what if she read him wrong? what if he only sees her as a friend? she would be devastated and forever embarrassed if she went to kiss him, and he only rejected her.

wooyoung must have sensed her overthinking, because he had turned his head from the tv to look at her, placing a gentle hand on her thigh. “is everything alright, sookki?” wooyoung asked, smiling softly when sooyoung blushed at the nickname. sookki was the nickname wooyoung had made up for her, and no one else had ever called her that (he took part of her name, and the ending of bunny in korean). “you can talk to me, you know.”

sooyoung only laughed and looked down, biting her lip when wooyoung had started to slowly rub his hand up and down her thigh. he was not helping her inner debate whatsoever,

“i don’t know…im just thinking.” sooyoung managed to get out, bringing her hands to play with the ends of her hair, a nervous habit she had since a kid.

“what thoughts are going on in your pretty head?” wooyoung asked, turning so his body was completely facing sooyoung - his hand still on her thigh. wooyoung was smiling at her, but she could see that he was genuinely concerned for her. sooyoung wanted to voice her feelings aloud, but she couldn’t find the words for them.

she could hear monique in the back of her head, telling her to “stop overthinking, whats the worse that could happen?” …. the two girls had just had a conversation the night before, monique was the only one who knew her true feelings for wooyoung. if monique was there, she would be telling her to let all of her anxieties go, and just do it.

so that’s what sooyoung did - she leaned forward, wrapped her hand behind wooyoung’s neck, softly playing with the ends of his hair, and she kissed him. she could feel her body heating up from wooyoung’s plump lips, kissing him in reality was so much better than what sooyoung could have ever imagined. before sooyoung could kiss him longer, she quickly regained her thoughts and immediately backed away, gasping when she saw wooyoung’s shocked face.

“fuck, wooyoung - im so —” sooyoung mumbled out, but wooyoung didn’t even let the girl finish apologizing before he crashed his lips back to sooyoung’s, grabbing wooyoung’s waist and swinging her into his lap, pulling her even closer. sooyoung really could feel the warmth all through out her body, and she swore nothing had ever been better than this. she loved every second of it, she loved the tight grasp wooyoung had on her waist, how she could feel his heartbeat against her chest, and most importantly, his lips. she loved how he kissed her with such passion, such desire, with love.

when wooyoung had pulled away to get air, it took awhile for sooyoung to regain her thoughts again. his kiss and touch had sent her in a cloudy daze - she was still in shock that it had even happened.

“that was my first kiss,” sooyoung sheepishly mumbled, hiding her face in her hands when wooyoung’s face lit up in suprise.

“i was your first kiss, are you serious?” wooyoung asked, wrapping the girl in a tight hug when she nodded. “that makes it even more special, doesn’t it?” wooyoung said, gently patting her head when he saw that she was still embarrassed.

“don’t be embarrassed, my love. i’m not judging you! i’m happy that you chose me to be your first kiss.” wooyoung said, almost instantly making sooyoung feel better. “what, do you like it when i call you ‘my love’?”

“it has a nice ring to it,” sooyoung whispers, nuzzling her face into wooyoung’s neck when he cooed at her shyness. the two of them sat in silence for a few minutes, regaining their ability to breath, and soaking in a few minutes of peace, relaxing against one another.

eventually, sooyoung sat up, awkwardly scooting off of wooyoung’s lap and bringing her legs to her chest. she wanted to end her overthinking - but she knew she had to take some brave steps to be able to do that. so with a deep, shaky breath, she finally expressed her feelings to wooyoung.

“if you haven’t noticed already, i like you…i have for awhile. do you like me, too?” sooyoung asked, smiling when wooyoung nodded.

“i do in fact, like you. i like you not just a little bit, i like you a lot! i like you this much!” wooyoung chuckled, extending his arms to show his arm span. sooyoung smiled and tackled the man into a bear hug, squeezing his waist. she felt so safe in the arms of wooyoung, she realized, when he hugged her back and gave her a soft kiss on the forehead.

“do you think we could…i don’t know,” sooyoung trailed off, looking up at the boy, resting her chin on his chest. she wanted to ask him out - but finding the wording was so hard. she didn’t want to sound eager, or cringy, but she also didn’t want to give wooyoung the wrong impression. sooyoung could sense his hesitancy, quickly adding, “if you want to go slow - that’s fine…” sooyoung mumbled, frowning when wooyoung still looked full of worry.

“i want you to be my girlfriend, soo, but what about your stalkers? what about Bora?” wooyoung asked, pursing his lips, “i know we can’t let them dictate our life’s forever, but are you okay with facing the backlash if they find out?”

sooyoung thought about it - she knew it was more likely that they were going to find out about the romance between wooyoung and sooyoung, and she knew that when the news broke out, it wouldn’t be pretty. she was so sick and tired of letting people dictate her life, just because they want to control her. even if bora hated her even more than she already does, she knows her members would have her back, no matter what the conditions were.

“yes…i think i would be ready to deal with the backlash. even if it’s bad, i know i have you and my members to support me.” sooyoung said, placing another kiss on wooyoung’s lips, hoping to reassure him more.

“so, park sooyoung, does this mean you’ll be my girlfriend?” wooyoung asked, and the both of them couldn’t help but giggle at the cheesiness of it all.

“yes, wooyoungie, i’ll be your girlfriend.”

with that, wooyoung scooped the girl back into his arms, smiling when the girl practically melted on top of him, and placed one more kiss on her lips, allowing himself to linger for a bit more, feeling the softness of her lips before pulling away.

sooyoung decided that if falling in love felt like this - then maybe it wasn’t so scary after all.

[emmcfrxst]

okay so dick grayson x reader where the reader is sparring with dick in the headquarters and dick can’t even focus because he just keeps thinking “I need her” so he MANHANDLES her to the ground and yeah you take it from there bae 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️

he’s still such a lovesick fool even when he’s horny— he’s swooping down to press a kiss to the tip of your nose before grinning at you, his hair falling in his eyes and he fully leans into your touch like a cat when you reach up to push his hair out of his face, resting his cheek into your palm, and he gets so caught up in admiring you that he fully forgets, for a short moment, what he’s doing and why he’s doing it, until you shift underneath him and you wrap a leg around his waist and pull his hips into yours, making him gasp and shut his eyes at the friction of his hard cock against your clothed cunt, the thin material of your workout pants letting him feel just how warm and wet you are for him

[venuscrashed]

Basically salt against the demon bros

Word count: 500 something

Warnings: Shit fic, Bad like REALLY bad writing, not proof read, just wanted to get something out

“Do you think it’ll work?” Mammon looked at you as you both stood in the kitchen. Salt in your hand, his hands on his hips.

“It has to,” you both looked down. It was normal, human salt that you stole from Solomon. Recently the brothers were shown a couple of horror movies and they used salt against the demons. It also didn’t help that a lot of ghost hunting games used the same technique. Mammon had the bright idea to try it and it was encouraged by Satan and Belphie for a joke against Lucifer.

Just as you were about to pour some salt lightning cracked and the whole room turned dark for a second. When the lights came on Lucifer stood next to the both of you. Arms crossed and eyes narrowed, sweat drops went down both of your faces before looking at him.

“H-hey Lucifer! How’s my favorite older bro?” Mammon took the salt and hid it behind his back. A bright smile on his face with shaking hands. It was plainly obvious that he was hiding something but he still thought he got away with it.

Lucifer’s menacing aura towered over the both of you. An eerie smile on face with closed eyes. Hand over his chest in his usual stance with a polite but bossy tone. Purple flames behind his back, “what are you hiding?”

“Nothing!” You both said in unison. You internally cringed at yourself for what you said but eventually you become alike after spending so much time together. Which only causing Lucifer to furrow his eyebrows with his finger. He looked at both of you. Eyeing the way Mammon's shoulders were shaking and how you avoided eye contact. With a sigh he placed out his open hand, motioning for the object.

Without a second thought you swiped the salt from Mammon's hands, he let out a gasp. You shoved the salt into Lucifer’s face but took it away before he could grab it. “It’s just salt. We were just going to see if it worked against you.”

“Yeah!” Mammon shouted but turned to look at you. Eyes wide and mouth open from the immediate betrayal. “Huh?”

“It probably won’t even do anything,” you said. Pouring the salt at Mammon's feet, creating a line. He tried to walk over it but found his foot wouldn’t move. Like it was trying to go through a wall. “Oh…Would you look at that!”

“Now wait a min-“ just as Lucifer started walking you poured salt at his feet again. Both brothers being stuck and unable to cross the barrier.

You just started laughing loudly. Looking at the salt with stars in your eyes. “This is the best thing in my life! I’m pouring it in front of my room!!”

From outside the kitchen the rest of the brothers started yelling. Arguing about it with Mammon yelling. Lucifer just stood there with his mouth open as he watched you run back to your room. Salt high above your head like a new god and happiness found.

[super-nova5045]

sylvia plath, todd anderson and virginia woolf (aka ACTUAL tortured poets) watching taylor “im breaking up with my boyfriend for his intense depression and blaming it on him, im dating a racist who enjoys watching woc being brutalized and harasses young woc artists, i sent my fans out on a hate train to attack a young woc actress for a line she had to say as part of her job to show how mentally ill her character was, im dating a maga supporter, i refuse to say anything about a current genocide despite being the most influential person in the world right now, i am a billionaire, i fly 13 minute flights and have the highest carbon emission of any celebrity, i am a known white feminist who only speaks about issues when it affects me and has constantly let my fans get away with extreme racism and even encouraged it by associating myself with known racists” swift call herself a tortured poet (her writing sounds like a bunch of thesaurus words slapped over gabba hanna and rupi kaur-esque poetry that was created purely as a trinket for an edgy pinterest board)

[mcondance]

giving steven head. sighs.

steven. . steven’s so reactive. he’s so fucking sensitive. every time you even lay a finger on him he’s damn near shaking, trembling under your touch. and when you have your mouth wrapped around his dick, your tongue tracing the pretty veins on the underside of his shaft. . he’s a mess.

a pretty mess. your pretty mess, his curls ruffled and some sticking to his forehead with sweat, big chocolate eyes low and almost closed, except for when he can pry them open to watch you take him down your throat so well.

when he watches, it’s a show. your pretty plump lips wrap around him, mouth stretched wide around his thick cock, hands wrapped around the base of him and sliding down to run your hands over his heavy balls, his thighs clenching up every time you move.

and just like normally, when he’s rambling about old egyptian culture or babbling about something or the other, he’s so damn talkative.

“feels so good, love, feels perfect.”

“yeah— fuck, your mouth feels so. .”

“feels like— ah, god like that, keep goin’ li’ that.” his sentences are scrambled, words just barely formed around his heavy tongue before you swipe them away with swirls of your tongue around his tip, eyes fixed on his flushed face. “so good to me.” is what he whispers with a shake of his head when his eyes find yours, his hand moving from the sheets to your hair to push it out of your face, to repay the pleasure you’ve given him with that small gesture.

when he's close, you know it. whether it's his whiny groans, or his nodding when you take him all the way to the base, or his babbled "gonna cum, wanna cum, yeah". . you know. so you keep doing what you're doing, and he keeps singing fucked-out praises to you until he's cumming down your throat, your lips painted white with the release that drips down his cock.

with his eyes fixed on you is how he cums, his lips forming a pretty "o", chest heaving and hands tightening in your hair and in the sheets. and with soft smiles and kisses is how he thanks you, hand cupping your cheek as he thanks you the best way he knows how.

well, the second best way. but that's for another time.

[nsfwjjkwritings]

omg i loveeeeeeee your piece about Yuji and Gojo with a partner that finds it hard to finish from penetration. could you do the same thing but with toge? like all he has to do is use his cursed speech

✭ TOGE IS AGED UP TO BE 20 YEARS OLD, READ THE RULES IN MY BIO BEFORE YOU COME TO MY ASK BOX WITH HATE PLEASE AND THANK YOU ✭

-

Inumaki Toge

• Inumaki is surprised at first when you tell him that you’re unable to come from penetration. His surprise turns into shock when you ask him if he would be willing to use his cursed technique on you to make it happen. You have multiple conversations about it, constantly reassuring him that nothing bad will happen and you trust him to do this. Although he’s extremely apprehensive at first, he eventually agrees to do so on one condition: you have to be on top when it happens.

• When it finally comes time to make good on his deal, Inumaki takes his time making sure you’re primed and comfortable. He won’t use his cursed technique until he’s made you come from clitoral simulation a couple times first. When he figures you’re ready, he’ll lay back on the bed and gesture for you to climb on top. Just before he uses it, he’ll raise his eyebrows in a silent question of “are you sure you want to do this?” When you nod, he’ll close his eyes and grip your hips tightly, mentally preparing for the worst to happen.

• While Inumaki is aware what the deal was, he isn’t going to make it as easy as just saying “cum.” Instead, he’ll say “make yourself cum.” Your body will take on a mind of it’s own and basically just use him as a means to carry out his command. You’ll be so caught up in the moment you won’t even realize what’s happened until your legs are quivering and you’re out of breath, gasping for air. His expression when you come down from your high is one of awe, and he immediately wants to do it again.

• The hardest thing Inumaki has to come to terms with is just how much he likes using his cursed technique to make you climax. The first time he did it, he knew he was in trouble because now he wants to use it every time. He quickly becomes addicted to the way your body convulses and trembles when it’s overcome with ecstasy. The look on your face is his favorite part, though. There’s nothing in the world that could force him to look away from the sight of your tousled hair, your slightly scrunched eyebrows, your slack jaw, your moans. He almost wants to take a picture so he can look at it when he’s having a rough day, but ultimately decides against it when he realizes he can see the real thing instead of a digital image.

[mediumgayitalian]

The crooked, creaky door of the cluttered infirmary storage room pushes open and slams shut in the span of a second, just barely allowing someone to dart through. Nico jumps, banging his head on the shelf he’s hiding under, chomping full force on his lip to bite back a shout. The shadows, on lucky reflex, bend around him and shroud his face. The rest of him he tucks further into the forgotten corner between two filing cabinets, holding his breath.

Under the unflattering light of the single swinging lightbulb, Will looks dull.

A thin headband attempts to hold back his frizzy hair, although it does very little. Curls stick out oddly and many shorter hairs are plastered to his temples and the back of his neck. His skin is unusually lacklustre, even pale, except for the high flush around his cheekbones. The bruising under his eyes rivals Nico’s. He has been wearing the same scrubs for the last two days.

With one last look at the closed door, nothing but garbled voices filtering through the heavy wood, he slumps. He drops his face into his chapped and bleeding hands, heels pressed into his eyes, and holds them there for ten seconds, twenty. Slowly, with trembles so minute they are at first glance unnoticeable, his shoulders begin to shake. The long fingers flexed and tensed around his forehead curl tightly, and he twitches, whole body trembling, teeth sunk hard into his bottom lip to stop his chin from quivering.

It does not work.

The first sob is quiet. He catches it quickly, forcing it back down, breathing heavily through his nose and out his mouth to beat it back. The second follows quickly, though, and it’s harder to choke down. When his face crumples, his resolve goes with it, and his knees hit the floor, sharp crack swallowed by the stillness of the room. He curls forward until his nose nearly hits his knees, hands sliding through his hair and over his ears and settling finally clutching together in the dip of his chest, bouncing with every heave of his chest. It’s quiet, his crying, enough that every dropped tear can be heard as it hits the dusty floor. The only time his sobs are ever audible is when he opens his mouth, trying desperately to soak up enough air to catch himself, to carry himself through.

Mute horror holds Nico’s tongue hostage.

He’d escaped in here the second Will had been called away this morning, dragged for the umpteenth time to handle a crashing patient or a complicated hymn or to soothe someone’s nerves. For the past two days he’s been doing his best to monitor Nico and a handful of other front liners who’d exhausted themselves in battle, but his focus has been split and the infirmary has been crowded. Whenever he runs off to put out whatever fire had cropped up — sometimes literally — the whispers start, the glances, the skin crawling up Nico’s back. Nico can hardly tell anymore what’s the shadows and what’s the people around him, watching him out of the corners of their eyes like they’re waiting for him to bust out a scythe and a black hooded cloak and start reaping.

The storage room is supposed to be an escape. Out of the way and forgotten as it is, it is supposed to be the place he can hide for an hour, escape the heavy gaze of the rest of the camp, collect himself before braving it all again.

Clearly, though, he’s not the only one who thinks so.

There’s something disorienting about seeing Will Solace cry. In the few times Nico has spoken with him during his visits to camp, he’s been a barely-contained explosion of energy, whether talking Nico’s ear off with updates about people he barely knows and references he hardly understands or cussing him out for overextending himself. He’s used — as much as he can be to someone he’s only beginning to really get to know — to his wildly flailing hands and widely playful grin, his loud drawling voice, his painful, constant brightness.

His hands, now, clench until they’re bloodless, trembling. There is no hint of his wide smile or twinkling eyes, because his face is hidden by all the hair that his given up on the pretence of the hairband, and the only sound from him are his gasping breaths and swallowed-back sobs. Nico watches him because he cannot look away. He flinches because every cry, every rough, scraping inhale, sounds like shattering rock, like an iceberg breaking off a glacier.

A quiet beeping startles them both.

For a stretch of time Will is motionless. The beeping continues, steady and soft, bouncing off the cluttered shelves and fading before they echo. After the third round — and Nico counts, if anything for something to do besides watch the chafed skin on Will’s hands crack and bleed with every flex — he drags himself upright, nails drawing lines in the thick dust of the floorboards, and rests back on his heels. He breathes for a moment, shuddering, hands pressed flat to his face; in, beep, beep, beep; out, beep, beep, beep. None of his breaths are ever steady, but he wastes no more time, swiping under his eyes and pinching his cheeks to restore his face to some of its usual colour. He grips onto each board of the shelf to his right as he yanks himself upwards, hand over hand, until he’s stretched, finally, to stand, although there remains a slouch to his broad shoulders.

The beeping continues, emanating from the watch on his left hand, growing softer or louder as he trails his fingers over the shelves from one end to the other, from the first, the second, the third. He pauses finally on a collection of bottles, turning them carefully to read the labels, then tucks them each gently into his already bulging pockets until he is left with what he must carry between his fingers.

The shadows bend to cover Nico again as Will turns, unknowingly facing him, and pulls himself suddenly straight-backed, chin set high, shoulders squared. He smiles, wide, fractured, squinting his eyes deliberately. The beeping stops. He breathes, in, smile, out, nod, and turns, striding, back to the door, opening it with flourish and swiping the dust off his clothes.

“Found them! Sorry it took so long, I really had to look —”

The door swings shut behind him, cutting off the rest of his sentence.

Nico stares at it with bile churning in his too-empty stomach.

———

art by the incredible @clingonlikeclingwrap

[bigfootsmom]

Seven(ish) sentence Sunday

Thank you to everyone who keeps tagging me in tag games (I’m sorry if I’ve missed snippets that you’ve posted i lose everything in my notes) i was tagged by @tizniz and @diazsdimples for sss thank you beloveds <3 <3 <3

Here is some helicopter crash fic (which is actually getting pretty close to being done?? I think??)

Tommy takes a faltering step forward, knees buckling and sending him back toward the hard earth. But before he can reach it, strong hands grab him. Briefly, he panics as Evan’s weight begins to slide off his shoulders and he tightens his grip, a frantic noise rising in the back of his throat.

“Tommy, Tommy— I’ve got him! You’ve gotta let him go— I’ve got Buck.” That’s Howie’s voice in his ear. He tries to listen to him, forces his stiff fingers to uncurl from their death grip on Evan.

It feels wrong to let go, panic fluttering in his chest even as relief continues to surge through him. Evan is going to be okay. Help is here, Evan is going to be okay!

Tagging @usersiren @honestlydarkprincess @devirnis @underwaterninja13 @father-salmon

@giddyupbuck @monsterrae1 @lonelychicago @maygrantgf @bisexual-buck

@shyaudacity @eddiebabygirldiaz @eowon @smallandalmosthonest @iinryer

@try-set-me-on-fire @thequeenofcarvenstone @princessfbi @homerforsure @mellaithwen

@buddie-buddie @newtkelly @swiftietartt and anyone else who would like to post something!!!

[bipanicoverthegravessiblings]

I was wondering if you could do Mrs Graves x reader, some wholesome romantic stuff. And if its okay, her s/o is younger, not like minor young, but the same age as Ashley?

Certainly wasn’t expecting a Mrs Graves x Reader request but alright!

Renee Graves x Reader

Milfs! Milfs! Milfs! Milfs!

What is there not to love about older women? More experience…hot as hell…a caring demeanor that appeals to your mommy issues

Truly, there are no downsides

And that was your reasoning when dating Mrs Gra- you mean, Renee

“You don’t need to be formal you know…”

that neutral tone broke you out of your stupor. You blinked, having been running on autopilot for most of this outing with the woman beside you. Outing is a strange way of putting it- all things considered this was a date. You still weren’t used to this.

“Sorry!” Your shoulders tensed as you looked at her apologetically, “I guess it’s just a force of habit..”

“Well, break it.” She said so casually- it wasn’t that easy but you’d certainly try, “It isn’t even ‘Mrs’ anymore you know.”

She had you there. Truly a tragic thing that happened to Renee’s husband and children. Apparently they’d all been quarantined in that apartment building a ways away- something about parasites in the water. Renee thankfully hadn’t drank any of the tap water, so she was free to leave. The same can’t be said for her family though. Before you two had begun dating, a fire had broken out in the building- there were no survivors. You had tried to console her, living in the same neighborhood with your family when she moved in. You two had grown close during then…perhaps too close.

Renee patted your hand, her fingers interlacing with yours to break you from your thoughts once again. She sighed, her tired eyes looking into your own with a gentle smile.

“Relax dear…it’s fine, just,” she turned away from you, her smile uneasy, “Try to break that habit for me, okay? I feel like we should be on a first name basis by now…”

You felt your face heat up at her words, deciding to silently nod as you gave her hand a squeeze.

The age gap was certainly a topic amongst your neighbors and colleagues….not much of one though

Now- if Renee was a man, oh she’d be deemed a cradle robber, a creepy old geezer preying on the youth

But because she isn’t an ugly old man and a conventionally attractive woman then it’s fine!

Plus you’re both adults so, where’s the harm

Note you did only- just enter your twenties but it’s fiiinnneeeeee

For as cold as Renee seems, she’s surprisingly soft with you- if not a bit firm at times

She’ll take a napkin to the corners of your mouth while reprimanding you about not eating neatly

She’ll loan you a jacket if you didn’t bring one, all the while scolding you for not being prepared

It was almost- motherly

….yeah you really gotta see a therapist about those mommy issues

[toxintouch]

hii!! I just read cold spots and it was AMAZING!!! Im not sure if you wanted to continue the fic, but if you don’t mind could you continue with Veres part? I don’t know what you would write about but I just feel like that fic has so much potential to be a little 3 part series or something 🙏

<- Cold Spots TYSM ANON!! I put the Vere End at the beginning for ease of reading. For the sake of folks who would like to read this as a stand-alone... I think u can? With the knowledge that the premise of Cold Spots is that Mhin and MC/Sparrow went ghost hunting. Vere is said to have been responsible for a handful of local ghost stories, so…of course he makes some mischief.🦊 Also MC needs some Winter wear, stat.  A very light Possessive Vere warning in this btw, though perhaps in a roundabout way.  Plausible deniability is so important to him.

You putter around in your room at the Wet Wick as you go about your nightly routine. The occasional cheer or thud from below only accentuates your nervous energy, punctuating your reluctance to settle down and get into bed. You smooth the covers with your bandaged hands and fluff the pillow before extinguishing the lamplight. You tug the bedding up above your shoulders, fighting to get comfortable. As your eyelids finally start to droop, the flicker of a shadow catches your attention.   It dances and sways and bends and grows until suddenly it is right in front of you.  On top of you. Silken, blood red drips down onto your face, a knife gleam smile too close for comfort.  You breathe in a gasp, wondering if you should scream. “Vere, what–” “Shhh,” he coos, pressing a finger lightly to your lips.  His breath is hot against your skin. “I only came to keep you warm, pet.”

Heat Signature

“Poor thing.” Vere purrs.  “Your lips are so cold.”  He leans ever closer, his mouth hot over yours–hovering.  His other hand reaches for your face as well, nails trailing against your cheek in a teasing caress.

You feel even the thought of being cold leave your body, replaced instead by the unusual thrill he commands, that strange enthralling sway.

That heat you’ve come to associate with Vere; sweet tendrils of want that nestle in your bloodstream.

You squirm a little, though you can’t move much with him looming over you.

(You should probably do more to protest his intrusion into your room, you think to yourself, though, the majority of you is–curious, daresay even far too eager to–)

“Whatever trouble did you get up to that left you in such a state?”

At this you scoff, tilting your head back into the pillow and effectively knocking Vere’s finger from your lips.  

“As if you don’t know,” you accuse.

Vere looks entirely unperturbed by you shaking him off, his lithe fingers traveling freely along the newly displayed skin of your throat, making your pulse jump.

Vere chuckles at that, dark and silky.

“Being tight lipped about your adventures, hm?”  He angles your face just so, ensuring you meet his sharp eyes, his nose brushing up against yours.  “Not that it matters.  It so happens I do know what you’ve been up to.  Trespassing in places that don’t belong to you.”

“...It was an abandoned building.  I don’t think it really belonged to anyone.”

“And that’s where you’d be wrong,” Vere says, “everything in this city belongs to someone, darling.  You just don’t know what belongs to who yet.”  He peers down at you with laughter in his expression, though there's a distinct edge to it that you can't quite place.

“So, you're here because that building belongs to you...?”

“Hmm, amongst other things.  However shall I make you apologize to me for this most egregious offense?”  He asks airily, shifting until he’s beside you rather than perched over you, resting his cheek in his hand and letting his eyes slip closed. He's the absolute picture of unbothered leisure.  

(You’re not fooled–he’s simply waiting for you to let your guard down before he pounces.)

You open your mouth to deny any debts on your part (though, if your ghost hunting spot was indeed Vere’s hideout, you really do feel guilty) but Vere cuts you off before you can speak.

“Alas, I suppose it’s not mine anymore.  Within a week it will reek of wet dogs and cheap booze. It's a lost cause now that those drooling reprobates know it's inhabitable.  A pity.  By Eridia's standards it really was divine in its heyday.  Good wine, music, dancing.  There was this portrait artist who would paint the performances…”

His tone remains light as he reminisces.  But the look he pins you with is dangerous: his eyes gleaming bright, his canines bared in an irreverent grin.

“I had such hopes and dreams of reviving the place myself.  Some of the dances were very scandalous.  You never did share with me your stance on dancing, did you?”

You stumble out an approximate answer.  It’s…harmless information to give, isn’t it?

Though, judging by how pleased Vere looks, you wonder if you should have refused to say.  He looks positively wicked as he ponders your answer aloud.  “Oh, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of talents to share.  In another life, perhaps I'd have put you on stage.  Though, I admit.  I find myself partial to a private show.”

And–as expected–the moment you let your guard down, he's in your space again, crowding you.  Heat and proximity and the softest brush of his lips against yours, light enough to send a thrill down your spine, curiosity and a want so deep it surprises you.

“Well?”  He purrs.  “Care to audition?”

You can't hide behind the excuse of supernatural sway or charm or the thrall of hypnotic sunglo eyes.  It's not Vere's power that controls you. It's your own gnawing desire; starvation and longing that draws you to him despite all sense.

Kissing Vere is heady.  Dizzying.  

Kissing Vere is like being in conversation with Vere–a constant of giving and taking, being chased after and running to keep up.  It’s enticing and alluring and decadent and never quite enough, over too soon even as you feel yourself losing air, the rush of blood and sensation threatening to overwhelm you.

He gives a parting nip to your bottom lip as he pulls away.

Then another one, playful, to your jaw.

When he presses his face into the side of your neck, you expect him to bite again.

What you don’t expect is for him to nuzzle into you, inhaling deeply before heaving a great sigh, his tail flopping lazily to land across you with a thump.

He’s officious as he rearranges the covers, ensuring your arms are tucked carefully away from him before he’s willing to fully settle into the bedding, pulling the blankets up around the both of you like a den.  He hums something low in his chest as he tucks himself up alongside you, long tail curled around your waist. 

It’s rhythmic–

purring.

And it’s…soothing, actually.

The weight of him, the warmth.  The incessant lamplight of the Amaryllis District, shining ever present through your window, is dim–tolerable, even, courtesy of Vere's magnificent shadow manipulations and the blankets sheltering you. 

The constant noise seems to fade away as well, obscured by the sound of purring. “Falling asleep when you have me in your bed, pet?  You really do try your luck…”

[myokk]

an afternoon by the black lake🫶🫶🫶

[dumplingsjinson]

hiii <3 can you please do a prompts list for shy x ex-player where the player falls for the shy character? i know it’s specific but i’m having a really hard time trying to think of how to start! thank you <3

(it can be anything like flirty prompts or funny scenarios!)

List of “how the hell did someone like you fall for someone like me?” prompts 

“You really are down bad for them, aren’t you?” “I’m not.” “You’re literally blushing over the fact that they walked past us, and you don’t fucking blush. That’s just… Not you.”

“Okay, don’t think I didn’t notice you staring at me and creeping around me. What do you want from me?” “I don’t… I don’t want anything from you. I just… Wanted to talk to you, that’s all.”

There’s something about Character A which intrigues Character B so much, so out of curiousity, they try to get closer to Character A. In the process of it all, Character B also finds out, for the first time, what it feels like to actually fall in love with someone.

“You’ve had so many partners before so—“ “Yeah, but I never fell in love with them. You… You’re the first one. In fact, you’re the first person I’ve ever truly wanted and I don’t want to mess this up.”

Character B’s friends teasing the shit out of them because they seem to lose their ability to talk and think when they’re around Character A. 

Character A’s group of friends trying to keep Character A away from Character B because they know of Character B’s notorious history of playing with people’s feelings.

“I swear that’s not me anymore,” Character B says. “So please, trust me when I say I only want to do good for you.”

Character B getting to know about Character A’s not-so-shy side and liking it a little too much.

The sexual tension between these idiots only grow the more time they spend with each other, until Character A suggests that they do something about it. “Just fucking kiss me or something because I’ve been needing this for way too long,” would be what they’d say if Character B hadn’t cut them off, halfway, by pressing their lips against theirs. 

“So technically I’m your first love?” “Something like that, yeah.” 

[sunnfish]

[ID: A digital illustration of Sissel from Ghost Trick. He is shown from a lower angle, as if the viewer were looking up at him. He has a hand close to the viewer and clutching a glowing soul core. His other hand is in his pocket, and he has a serious expression on his face. The background is the clock that appears when you time travel in the game, consisting of a glowing red clock face and glowing red lines radiating from it on a black background. The art style mimics that of the game’s, with sharp black lines and shading. The color palette is mostly red, with some light blue radiating from the soul. The artist’s signature “sunnfish 2023” is written on his leg. /End ID]

Change your fate.

[dogsosoy]

i am thinking about stalking aki. no devils au also (gn)reader is an obsessive freakkk and loser ; things get a little physically violent ^__^

as per usual, you were following the local grocery store clerk home after his shift.

he was a pretty unassuming guy, despite his height, but something about him was different from all the other NPCs you had to encounter in your shitty city.

a few weeks ago, for the first time in your life, someone wasn’t outright disgusted with your presence. on top of that, that person was downright gorgeous too. exactly your type. a lot like the guys you went for in your dating sims: tall, long hair, and an unbothered attitude. aki had an air about him that screamed “i don’t really care,” which made you weak in the knees. you were shaking when you approached his checkout line.

you expected him to be like everyone else. throw you a hardly-concealed glare and make your interaction as swift as possible. you’ve never been that great with social interaction. or social cues. but somehow, in your delusional mind, you believed that you were quite charming the day you met aki.

he had initially caught you off guard. aki recognized the game on your shirt, and commented on it as he was checking out (and trying hard not to judge) your groceries (seriously, when was the last time you ate a meal that wasn’t full of MSG?). immediately getting even more flustered and nervous than you already were, you told him a fun fact about the game—that only you found fun—and flashed him an awkward, stressed out smile. more fearful looking than anything. more animalistic than human.

but he smiled back, so clearly that meant you did a good job, right? you surely impressed him with your knowledge and the submissive air about you! he must’ve thought you were charming in a “kicked dog” sort of way.

aki totally wasn’t thinking ‘will this quivering little freak get out of my line already?’ eyeing your shaky hands and figure. you were most definitely overstaying your welcome in the check-out area to stutter at this poor clerk. at least he’s good at staying composed. most of the time.

overall, he was disgusted by you. you looked like you got hit by a bus two weeks ago and hadn’t showered since. your clothes were dirty and way too big, like a child trying on something from their parent’s closet. you had a minecraft wallet that would’ve been a cute little trait if you weren’t so fucking off-putting. your hair was in your eyes. probably to hide your face, he thought. you don’t seem to like being perceived.

aki had a lot of thoughts about you in that moment—some of them more intrusive than others. he thought about scowling at you, yelling at you to move along, maybe shoving your shitty groceries into your hands so you’d get the idea that he really didn’t like your vibe. or face. or anything about you. then, aki thought about strangling you. you just had a face for it. you looked easy to beat up and aki kind of liked that. it crossed his mind that maybe he could kick the shit out of you after his shift. get some anger out. hell, he could’ve taken five and done it right then.

you know, normal minimum wage job thoughts.

but of course, he didn’t do any of that. didn’t even really entertain the thought (although he really would’ve liked to). at his core, aki isn’t a bad person. he’s not the best, don’t get him wrong, but he wouldn’t harm a random person he doesn’t know. even if that person was giving him a million reasons to, just by existing. even if they look like they would make such a good punching bag. or stress ball. or chew toy?

aki doesn’t necessarily enjoy hurting people. he’ll admit, he does find some sort of sick satisfaction in it, but it’s not something he actively seeks out. or even something that regularly crosses his mind. aki is reliable and intelligent. that’s what anyone you ask would say about him. sure, maybe he’s a hardass most of the time, but he really does seem to have a thing for helping others.

he looked at you, really looked at you, his eyes filled with pity as you were turning to walk out of the store. he imagined what it would be like to have everyone you come across have these sorts of thoughts about you. how could you live your life normally when everything about you invokes violent and anger in the people around you?

it was pathetic. he thought you were pathetic.

maybe he could help you.

your eyes caught his only for a moment as you cautiously glanced back at him, trying to sneak in one more glimpse at this angel before you went home, not to return for weeks. then you saw it. you saw that look. something in his eyes, but it wasn’t anger or annoyance or disgust. your face heated up, and your eyes widened with how flustered you felt. your palms suddenly felt sweaty, and it was too hot. for once, someone looked at you and felt something more for you, and it felt like a fire was lit inside your chest.

this man… (squints to read name tag) aki… he was different.

and aki knew from that split second that you were definitely a total hopeless case and complete freak.

your obsession with him snowballed from there.

you followed behind him after every shift, making sure to stay hidden from the light and as far away as possible. you just wanted to make sure the love of your life got home safe! plus, it wasn’t hard to keep an eye on him. maybe keeping up with him was a little difficult due to the height difference, but good thing you’re amazing at masking your presence! thank you, fear of being perceived.

even from this distance, your heart was in your throat. you could barely make out the way his shoulders moved as he walked, or how he lazily puffed on a cigarette (mevius brand, your brain supplied). it was still enough to get you panting like a freaky little creep. your whole body was on fire. the physical reaction you had to aki was apparent, and it had only gotten worse by the day. during your first interaction, you were a complete mess. now? you’d be lucky to get a single word out if he was any closer than twenty feet, and your legs would surely give out from the anxiety. it would be like meeting god.

aki had decided earlier, during his shift, that he had had enough of this game of cat and mouse.

of course he could feel the eyes on his back during his walk to his apartment. although you think you’re quite slick and sneaky, aki has known since the first day you followed him home. you may be quiet, but your hiding skills are a bit rusty. on top of that, aki trained in the police force. he knows when someone is tailing him. he had to hand it to you though, it took him longer than normal to notice you.

every day you got a bit closer—he had picked up on that by the fifth night. he picked up on you breaking into his apartment by the second week, which irked him. not because he necessarily cared about you stealing his stuff—he didn’t have much of value anyway—he just didn’t want your dirty hands touching everything. he started cleaning more after that.

then slowly he started… leaving things out for you. like someone leaving milk out for a stray cat. a half eaten bar of chocolate on his kitchen counter, an old shirt on his bed. things he thought you’d think he wouldn’t miss. he left some healthier food out too, with a few bites taken out of it, so you’d think he was done eating and take it for yourself.

he wondered if it felt like sharing a meal to you, too.

he had caught a glimpse of you in a shop window as he turned the corner onto his street. you were wearing his shirt. he never saw you without one of his shirts on, not since you started stealing them.

instead of continuing all the way to his apartment, aki stopped short and took a quick right to duck into a nearby alleyway.

your heart sped up. what was he doing? was he meeting with someone else? going to someone else’s place? maybe just taking a leak? despite your worryingly amazing stalking skills, you lacked a lot of… basic intellect. street smarts.

common sense.

you approached the alley cautiously, peering in. no sign of aki. your heart sunk, had you lost him? your foot steps rang out in quiet thuds on the concrete. your thoughts were running a mile a minute.

aki thinks you should be more aware of your surroundings. it becomes another bullet on his mental list of things you need to work on. this list is uncomfortably long.

you pass by an unassuming dumpster, not looking at or even near it. it didn’t cross your mind that the object of your deepest desire could be crouched beside it. why would he be? why would he be staring at you? why would he be getting ready to pounce on you, like a predator on prey?

the moment you had just barely cleared the threshold into his vision, aki pounced.

your back hit the concrete wall before you could even grasp what could be happening. the smell of cigarette smoke flooded your sinuses. someone’s forearm was pressed to your neck—their hand carefully balancing a mevius cigarette between two fingers—affectively holding your weaker body in place and somewhat choking you. your voice cried out in a pathetic yelp, which caused another large hand to be placed rather roughly over your mouth. he didn’t want you to make any unnecessary noise. or, god forbid, any dumb comments.

his figure was even more imposing at this distance—or lack there of. fuck, is he going to kill you? beat the shit out of you? why is that thought kinda hot? your heart was beating so fast you felt like you were going to have a heart attack. aki, ever composed, casually leaned over your trembling body, looking deep into your scared eyes with his intense gaze. he was so calm, but he was also scary. imposing. like a parent looking down at a child who has misbehaved. your knees felt weak.

you have misbehaved.

his face was inches from yours as he spoke softly, condescendingly, “i would say you’re dumber than you look but,” his eyes raked over your figure slowly, rolling the cigarette between his fingers. he removed his forearm from your neck and took a drag and blew the smoke into your face as he continued, “you’re not.”

quick note: having a hand over your mouth, somewhat covering your nose, smoke blown into your face, and having previously been choked by a forearm to the neck does NOT pair amazingly with what was likely an incoming panic attack. or maybe it was a meltdown. aki didn’t think you could tremble this much. widen your eyes this much. make him feel so in control this much. he would’ve rather thrown out his brand new pack of meviuses than admit that you have such a way of making him feel. he continued rolling his cigarette between his fingers, staring at your face, thinking. then he backed off a little. looked down his nose at you.

his gaze was filled with disgust… and an impossible amount of want. want for you. to own you. control you. maybe he just wanted to have some sort of control over anything in his life. unfortunately, you didn’t have a whole lot of time to react to this sudden realization about aki, as you cried out, muffled by his palm. the bastard had put his cigarette out on your neck.

“don’t worry,” he spoke softly, in an ever condescending tone, “you’ll probably still be able to walk when i’m done.”

[gen4grl]

you would think after all the yapping i do about these losers i would have a plethora of art uploaded … no… so here is my first kantrio post lol

i did these over the last month while watching the olympic weightlifting and jamming to kpop (stan red velvet and kiss of life BTW!!!)

[caedmonfaith]

I have, once again, failed to promote my current project here. Let me rectify that.

Whickber Street is a human AU, enemies to lovers (but only one of them is an enemy), grumpy x sunshine (and Crowley is the sunshine), in which many of the side characters we all love are getting a little more attention than usual. I’ve tried very hard to balance a lot of emotional topics, including grief, bias, and parental trauma, with a healthy dose of comedy. It is also a love story (bc it’s me), but not solely a love story for our Ineffable Husbands! There are multiple other couples who will find love! Features Tracy as a sex shop owner, Shadwell as an aging rock star, Fergus as the bartender, and Jim as…Jim!

Summary:

Anthony J. Crowley doesn’t think he’s ever been so happy. He’s finally quit his old job and is opening his childhood dream: a comic book shop. All of the neighbors are great, but the bookseller seems to hate him…

Aziraphale Eastgate grew up in his great grandfather’s shop. Now he runs it and lives above it. He loves everything about his life on Whickber Street…. but the new proprietor down the street has him terribly, terribly vexed.

Sparks fly when these two meet, and Aziraphale vows to hate him forever. Fergus, meanwhile, sets a timer.

Looks like Cupid has come to Soho.

Writing this has been a personal journey for me, and it’s been very healing. I would be deeply honored if you would give it a look. Updates regularly on Mondays and Thursdays (and I have only missed one scheduled posting day since early 2017! You can trust me!)

Thank you for your time! 🥂