#top shelf angel blood

[notherpuppet]

Scenario inspired by this tweet

[ripjon]

verses 2

[miaoua3]

As Sweet As You

Pairing: scoups x f!reader

Genre: oneshot, fluff, comedy

Description: seungcheol takes his daily coffee intake very seriously. so when the company coffee shop temporarily closes, he faces a very big problem. or maybe, several bigger problems.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

so, here’s the thing. seungcheol knows how pathetic he must look like. jeonghan made sure to let him know every day since he has learned about this situation, always followed up by that stupid smirk of his.

a few weeks ago, their company cafe announced that it will undergo a big renovation due to bad conditions of the pipes, which meant seungcheol needed to find a new place to buy his daily coffee intake or else he probably wouldve killed somebody in cold blood.

hey, what can he say, he’s a little grumpy in the morning, thats why he always makes sure to have his morning coffee, otherwise he will make his bad mood everybody else’s problem.

on the day he walked down his usual route to the coffee shop and saw a paper with the info about the shop being temporarily closed glued to the glass window, he was sure he was going to punch somebody that day.

thinking about what he should do since going to jail wasn’t really his top choice of activities to do on that day, he decided to walk down the block to see if there’s another coffee shop.

as he was walking, he came across an alley. he could loosely remember walking past it many times, but he has never walked in the alley itself. for some reason, seungcheol felt like something inside of it was calling his name, like it was trying to show him something.

seungcheol, never the one to ignore his instincts, walked down the alley.

and right there, on the left side of the alley, stood a little cozy looking coffee shop, a coffee shop that would forever change his life.

with almost to no thinking, seungcheol walked in.

the inside of the shop looked like something straight out of a movie. fairy lights strung along the edge of the counter, as well as on one of the walls. dark furniture was decorated with dark green accents like pillows and vases on top of the tables. on the left side, the whole wall was just a big shelf filled with books.

seungcheol felt both the moody and mysterious side of this shop, as well as its cozy and comforting side.

as he was looking around, he noticed that there wasn’t anyone around. unsure if he maybe entered during its closed hours, he decided to call out for somebody. with an unsure voice, he uttered “um hello?”

surprisingly, beneath the counter came a sweet voice, “just a moment!”

and really, after a moment, somebody popped out beneath it.

and seungcheol felt his heart come to a stop for a brief moment.

there, behind the counter, appeared what must’ve been an angel.

and then you smiled gently at him.

and the rest was history.

well, not really.

ever since that day, seungcheol has been going to your shop to buy his morning coffee, in hopes that maybe that day your conversation would go beyond him saying his order and wishing you a good day.

but seungcheol must be 13 years old mentally, because he simply can’t talk to you beyond those two topics without blushing like a teenage boy.

never has he ever felt this stupid, it literally made him want to bang his head against the wall in hopes that the force of the banging will maybe split his single remaining braincell into two braincell.

every day, while he was getting ready for work, he would stand in front of his mirror and would repeat the same words like a mantra.

“today is the day. today you will talk to her. today you will pick up your balls from the floor and ask her if she would like to grab a dinner sometimes. today is the day.”

and every day he still wouldn’t do it, no matter how much he would repeat those words.

it has become his routine.

a routine that has been kind of broken today.

because today jeonghan wanted to come with him.

and seungcheol didn’t like that one bit. but trying to stop jeonghan from doing something he dead set his mind on is right behind the word “impossible”.

as they were walking, seungcheol tried to warn his best friend.

“i swear to god jeonghan, do not even thinking about trying something”, seungcheol repeated for the nth time since they’ve met in front of their company.

jeonghan, ever the good friend, rolled his eyes. “relax, i just want to see who got your panties in a twist so much. plus, i havent had a good coffee since our shop closed.”

jeonghan’s words did nothing to calm down seungcheol.

if he knew his best friend even a little bit, he was 101% sure that he was going to do something.

and seungcheol was dreading it.

soon, they walked into the alley and a few second later, into the coffee shop.

you were stood on a ladder on the left side, cleaning the book shelf when they walked in. upon hearing the door open, you turned your head and smiled.

cheol swore he felt his heart fall down to his feet and skyrocket out of his body all in the same second you smiled. and the worst thing-he felt his cheeks get warmer, which only meant one thing, that he was blushing.

“ah i see you brought a friend with you today.” you said as you stepped down the ladder, scanning jeonghan from head to toe.

“u-um well y-yes, or, well, uh, he, uh, invited himself”, seungcheol stuttered out like an idiot and immediately regretted ever waking up today.

you chuckled as you rounded up the counter and got behind, ready to serve your costumers.

jeonghan turned his head in a way you couldn’t see his expression, but cheol certainly did, although he wished he didn’t, because nothing was quite as annoying as seeing that smirk of his.

“wow, it really is as pretty as you said it was”, he says with a smirk, obviously not talking about the shop itself, and cheol feels like not even your tasty coffee will stop him from murdering his best friend.

you chuckle lightly, a hint of blush on your cheeks, and cheol feels his heart squeeze so much that he unconsciously places his hand on top of his chest.

“thank you. now, what may i get you two?”, you say.

the two men place in their orders, jeonghan going first.

as his drink was being finished, jeonghan turned towards cheol. “i’ll wait for you outside.”, he more-so informs him.

cheol, with furrowed eyebrows, just nods at his friend.

“so, here’s your incredibly sweet drink that you for some reason like.”, you joke as you push a cup towards jeonghan.

“thank you.”, he smiles kindly at you, taking his coffee, turning around to exit the shop.

but of course, it wouldn’t be jeonghan if he kept his mouth shut for once in his life.

in the last second, he turned around and asked you “oh has this idiot asked you out already? no? oh well.”, he smiled innocently as he exited the shop this time for real.

cheol felt both the blood from his face drain and the temperature of his cheeks jump exponentially high.

for a second, you both stay silent.

and then he starts word vomiting.

“w-well, what he meant by- by that is that- see, uh, you’re obviously very p-pretty and uh, well, its presumptuous of me to think that you are single but uh, truth be told, you got my attention on the very first day i came in here so uh, i was just- i mean you can feel free to say no but, uh, i-id really like to t-take you out to a dinner, that is if you’re single of course, if not then im really sorry-“

cheol was a little too busy to notice you leaning on the counter, your chin resting on your hand, gentle smile grazing your features.

to stop his adorable rambling, you put his coffee in front of him, still resting on the counter.

and it seems to do the trick, because he stops talking all together and just looks at the coffee.

“on the house.” , you inform him.

just as he was starting to feel the disappointment seep into his bones, you speak up again.

“or well, not really. i’d really like that dinner in return for this free coffee.”, you smile blush-fully.

and so does he.

usually, he’d think of this as the end of the story, but in this case, it was just the beginning.

[angie-long-legs-moved]

The ball was like no event Angel had ever been to. A far cry from his usual haunts, the vast hall was beautifully and intricately decorated, a vision of black and red and floral motifs. The guests were dressed to the nines, engaged in polite conversation or taking to the dance floor with sophisticated grace.

The proposal of a dance from his dashing date split a wide grin across Angel's face - hardly prim or elegant as his surroundings called for, but the sheer glee that this suggestion invoked was impossible to suppress - even if he wanted to.

And he was bowing? What a drama queen - almost on a par with the spider himself.

Delicately, Angel placed his hand in Husk's, arranging his exhuberant smile into something coy and dainty. "I'd be delighted," he spoke warmly, playing the role of the unfazed aristocrat in accordance with his partner's playful gesture. Dancing in this manner with four arms was no easy feat, so Angel opted for the simple option of both left hands joining his partner's, while his right hands found their place on his shoulder. As the two began to sway in time with the music, Angel caught sight of the lipstick mark decorating his lover's fur and allowed himself the indulgence of a smug smirk. He leaned in close, his voice low.

"Ya know, I'm gonna have ta lend ya that lipstick, Husky. Ya look real cute in pink."

A glance around the lively ballroom floor told Angel that he had been correct to assume his partner was garnering a fair few looks from the other guests - it would have been a while since the former Gambling Overlord had made such a grand appearance. Oh, Angel adored the idea that they might be jealous of the man on his arm. He pulled Husk closer as they danced, a picture of greedy adoration that wanted his lover all to himself.

{{Continued from}} // @angie-long-legs

Butterflies didn’t even begin to cover whatever the hell was happening in Husk’s gut at this moment. He’d been so worried about how cheesy his date proposal to Angel had been the other day, but when he’d seen how much the gesture meant to his spider, he knew with certainty that it had been worth the risk of swapping his red attire out for pink for an hour.

Admittedly, Husk had been so poorly prepared for the Blood Ball because he honestly hadn’t planned on attending until Lucifer stepped in at the last moment to pull off some fairy godmother magic, resulting in the finery he now wore. The bartender wasn’t sure he could ever properly repay the King, but at the very least, he could mix him a mean appletini and help his daughter’s dream become a reality.

Fidgeting with a die, Husk waited at the base of the foyer staircase for Angel to join him. He had no clue what his date was planning to wear, but whatever it was, Husk was preparing for it to knock him sideways.

[satrs]

You Perv!

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪ��; the jjk guys as different kind of pervs.

ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ; various jjk men x fem!reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ; 0.6k ish

TAGS; NSFW/DARK CONTENT! MDNI. pervy guys(kinda creep). non-con pictures taken.panty sniffing. masturbation(male). risk of getting caught. mention of creampie. nicknames(dirty girl).

ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+!

THINKIN' BOUT YOU!

He always had that deep desire for you, one so deep, lingering at the back of his head at all times, almost impossible to tame. But he couldn't tell you, scared of what your answer might be.

He just can't help it. If he doesn't have the courage to tell you about his feelings and desires for you, he had to find some other way to feed into his eagerness for you.

This became like a daily routine, after he saw you and managed to get some sneaky picture of you in any position that he could put his mind into, he bid you a quick goodbye before hurrying home, swiftly stripping out of his pants, laying in bed with his aching dick in hand.

His hand stroked up and down his length as he pleasured himself, barely able to focus on the pixels in front of him as he felt himself nearing his release, the phone finally falling from his hold as his hand tightened around his shaft, imagining it being your tender fingers instead of his rough ones.

Not long after, spurts of cum covered his hand and stomach. While he tried to get his ragged breathing in control, he already went back on his phone, dialing your number to arrange a new hang-out, ready to snap more sneak peaks of you.

Yuuta. Nanami.

PANTY SNIFFER!

It just started off as an innocent offer from his side, driving you to that one party you really wanted to go to.

"Hey. I'm not done now, but you can come in. Just wait a minute and make yourself at home, yeah?" He returned a soft smile and nodded at your giggle, slouching himself on your bed as he felt the soft fabric beneath his hands and your scent embracing him.

'Make yourself at home', you said, so you surely wouldn't mind him taking a peak in your opened drawer, right? His thoughts got the better of him as he sneaked to the shelf, breath halting as he saw what was laying inside.

"I'm sorry it'll take me some more time! I can't get this eyeliner right." Your loud voice echoed through the door, his neck craning into your direction. Suits him. His fingers rummaged inside the drawer until he came across a daring pair of panties, face relaxing as he put it to his nose, inhaling your scent.

This is what led up to this point, him on your bed with your panty wrapped around his cock, muffling his moans by biting down hard on his lips, almost drawing blood.

"Give me a minute, almost done!" His movements speed up at the sound of your voice, his sickening thoughts taking over him as your unsuspecting voice only feed into his pleasure.

Quick, quick. Gotta be quick.

Choso. SATORU. Suguru.

WISH BECOMES REALITY!

He’d always dream about this, you on top of him, tits bouncing into his face at every movement of your hips, your angelic moans filling his ears.

But it was all just a dream, a dark and secret fantasy of his that would never become reality. You were just out of reach for him, too high for someone like him.

Oh boy was he wrong.

"Oh fuck." His head threw back in pleasure at the movement of your hips, needily rocking up and down on him, as the room filled with your sinful sounds of pleasure. He almost couldn't believe it. If only he had known that you longed for this almost as long as he did - he would've done this sooner.

If it was for him, he would take off that annoying condom right now, eager to see his cum leaking out of your puffy folds, just like he always imagined it. "Bet you wanted this for so long. What a dirty girl."

But there is no way that he does not feel addressed himself, because he knew that he desired and fantasized about this moment for almost eternity, his boring jack off sessions now coming to an end since he finally got a taste of you.

TOJI. Sukuna. Hiromi. Suguru(again).

©︎𝐊-𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐒. all rights reserved. Do NOT plagiarize, copy, modify, republish, or translate my work in any way!

[victorianbatman]

ATLA/LOK incorrect quotes

F, M & GN reader | every scenario without the readers gender being specified is Gender Neutral.

Bolin, on the phone with Mako: Mako, I need you to come pick me up.

Mako: Why?

Bolin: Y/n is busy passive-aggressively doing the dishes they asked me to do 6 hours ago.

Bolin: This house is not safe anymore.

-

Mako: Hey, whats for dinner?

Bolin: I cant tell you, its a soup-rise.

Mako: Is it soup?

Y/n: We soup-ose is could be.

Mako: Enough with the soup puns you two.

Bolin: Aww, you never soup-port our jokes.

[Five minutes later]

Mako: It was fucking tacos.

-

Mako: The stars look really pretty tonight.

Y/n: Yeah, they do.

Mako: You know who else looks pretty tonight?

Y/n: Asami.

Mako, at the same time: Korra.

Y/n: What?

Mako: What?

-

Toph: Do you do anything other than whine like a little bitch?

Y/n: Sometimes I whine like a BIG bitch.

-

Mako, not looking up from his book: What did she(Kuvira) do now?

Y/n: SHE SMILED!

Mako: At you?

Y/n: No, at her dumb friends, but she looks like an angel.

Mako: Go away, Y/n.

Y/n: Shut up, I watched you pine after Korra while in a relationship with Asami.

Mako: Go on.

-

Korra: We can bake these cookies at 400 degrees for 10 minutes or 4,000 degrees for 1 minute.

Lin: That’s not how you make cookies.

Y/n: FLOOR IT!

Bolin: How about 4,000,000 degrees for 1 second?

Lin: yOURE GONNA BURN THE HOUSE DOWN!!

Korra: IM GONNA HARVEST THE POWER OF THE FUCKING SUN TO MAKE COOKIES!!

Y/n&Bolin: DO IT!

Lin: NO-

-

Korra: I’m small, but knowing.

Tall!Y/n: You dont be knowing what the top of a shelf looks like though.

Korra: …

Tall!Y/n: …

Korra: Bitch.

-

Bolin and Mako watching Y/n from a distance chase a squirrel.

Bolin: Thats the person I see myself married to in the future.

Bolin: Thoughts?

Mako: …

Bolin: …

Mako: ..and prayers, bro.

-

Y/n: My autistic friend(book 1 zuko) is my favourite person on the planet. I asked if he would still be friends with me if I got a mullet and without looking up he said “we are not friends” like ok bestie.

-

Korra: Theres only one thing worse than losing.

[Tips over paper saying ‘losing Y/n’]

Y/n: Me.

Korra: No-

-

Y/n: Are you sure you’re ok?

Zuko, crying: Yeah, it’s just these onions, man.

Y/n: …

Zuko: …

Y/n: Those are potatoes.

-

[Asami, puts on chapstick]

Y/n: What flavour is that?

Asami: oh its [chapstick flavour].

Y/n: Lemme taste.

Asami: Sure.

[hands chapstick]

Y/n, kisses Asami

Y/n: Shit it does actually taste like [Chapstick flavour].

[Asami blushing like crazy]

-

Y/n: Aang, why do good people die young?

Aang: When you are in a garden full of flowers, which one do you pick?

Y/n: The ugly ones.

Aang: Exactly- wait wait what, why?

Y/n: Because ugly bitches dont belong in my garden.

-

Toph: Hi, im your doctor today, I’ll be drawing your blood as soon as I’m done with my capri sun.

[Misses the hole four times before finally getting the straw in]

[Y/n, sweats profusely]

-

Sokka: I have the sharpest memory, name one time I forgot something.

Y/n: You forgot me and Suki back in the fire nation 3 weeks ago.

Sokka: I did that on purpose, try again.

-

Y/n: Listen to me, love is a scam.

Bolin: You’re making a valentines card for Mako right now.

Y/n, points glue gun at him: You’re on thin fuckin ice.

-

Zuko: Whats with the napkin on the glass door?

Y/n: Aang keeps walking into the glass door, so I thought this might help.

Aang: Oh cool, a floating napkin!

[Walks into glass door]

[hongism]

DJANGO. - s. mingi (m)

➼ genre; smut ➼ pairing; mingi x fem!reader ➼ au; outlaw/hitman!mingi, dystopian futurism, lore accurate ateez ➼ warnings; explicit smut ➼ rating; m/18+ ➼ wc; 3.7k

Top shelf bourbon, no ice, and an orange peel over the rim of the glass. You only like the taste when it comes from his lips.

part of the outlaw miniseries.

────────────

➼ smut warnings; piv, unprotected sex, biting, marking, rough sex, choking (unsafe practices used pls don’t do!), pain kink/play, slight blood play, creampie, pet names: darling & angel

────────────

He comes into the bar as you’re wiping down the counter. One small glance at him would be enough to tell you where he’s been — the sweat on his brow under the brim of his cowboy hat is a dead giveaway for sure — but you don’t even need that much to know. A smell comes with him, one that you aren’t fond of but have grown used to in the time you’ve known this man, and that’s the lingering sulfuric scent that wafts into the bar with him. It clings to his leather jacket like a second skin by now. Perhaps part of you should be flattered that he comes to you after a hit, but then again this bar is all but his home, so you’re simply in a convenient place at a convenient time every time he returns.

“Want your usual?” you ask despite it being well past closing time. Preferential treatment for someone you’re quite fond of, and also on account of the man currently stationed on the roof seizing ownership of the bar prior to you being hired. Turning back, you pull a glass tumbler from the shelf without waiting for his response, affirmed by nothing more than a grunt as he comes to sit down at the bar. “How were things tonight?”

“Have you been waitin’ long?” Mingi asks in lieu of answering, and you smile to yourself.

“Hm, no, I wouldn’t say so. I had ample time to clean everything and wonder about when and how you would come in, so I’d say that’s time well spent.”

“And how exactly did you think that’d go down?” Sometimes you wonder if Mingi genuinely wishes to know your thoughts or if it’s simply a desire to prolong the conversation. Either way, he watches you with such rapt focus that you feel heat on the back of your neck from the scrutiny.

Top shelf bourbon, no ice, and an orange peel over the rim of the glass. Setting the drink down before him on the counter, you lean hard on the wood as your eyes squeeze shut.

“You come with your big cowboy hat with that gun slung around your arm, and you come up to me right here at the bar and you dip your hat like such a fine gentleman before saying 'How're things 'round here these days ma'am?'." You open your eyes and smile wide at Mingi. "Is that a sufficient enough fantasy for you?“

He dips his chin as one side of his lips pulls up to form a misshapen grin.

“I missed a shot tonight.” The shock reads on your face too quickly for you to conceal comfortably, even as you duck your chin and clear your throat to play it off, Mingi stares at you the same. “He clipped my arm before taking one between the eyes.” You blink down to his sleeves, noting the singed leather on his upper left arm that shows clear signs of damage. There are bandages underneath — or at least you’re assuming them to be bandages, it’s difficult to tell with how scarlet stains them. You move without saying a word in response, and Mingi shifts to follow your movements with his gaze, dedicated to the point of rotating his body as you go. “Nothin’ too terrible, darling. I already patched it up just fine on my own.”

“You go out and get fucking shot,” you hiss through gritted teeth just as you come around the edge of the bar, “then waltz back here acting a damn fool?” Mingi spreads his legs the moment you come up to him, effectively letting you press even closer to him when your hands grab for the collar of his jacket.

“I wanted to see you,” he murmurs, eyes wandering all over your face. “Wanted to fuck you.”

“Mingi.” You pull his jacket down to his forearms as the noise of exasperation leaves your lips.

“What’s so wrong about that?” he asks in return, hand wandering from the counter to find a new home on your hip. His hand is large and warm and proves to be quite distracting when he starts to let his thumb run along the sliver of bare skin he can now reach. You don’t opt to answer his nonsensical question in favor of working the jacket off his shoulders and exposing bare arms and a skimpy leather vest that leaves fairly little to the imagination. Your focus remains strong though, and you hone in on the cloth bound around his bicep. The area is relatively clean aside from the bandage, to your surprise. Mingi reaches up to lay a hand over the one you still have clenched around his sleeve. “Cleaned and dressed it already, angel. Stop worrying that pretty little head of yours for a second and let me see you smile.”

“Don’t let my drink go to waste and let me actually clean this shit first. Then you can have both those things.” You pull away to find the nearest first aid kit just for Mingi to snag your belt loop and pull you back to him.

“And something extra?” His lips are chasing yours already; you push the tip of your index finger to them before he can get any closer. One kiss will be more than enough to distract you from the task at hand, which is like what he is aiming for knowing how Mingi is. Despite the less-than-stellar circumstances, you do find his cheeky grin endearing more than you find it infuriating, which means you only leave his side with a roll of your eyes and not any more snippy remarks.

He sits still and sips at the drink you prepared for him while watching you work. It feels like a bit of a rhythm that you fall into — pulling the first aid kit out, taking what you need from it, returning to Mingi’s side in little to no time — and you’re somewhat grateful for him allowing quiet to hang about the bar because it means you can clean his wound without distraction on his part. It truly isn’t a terrible injury, just as he had claimed (but you aren’t about to admit that to his face, otherwise you won’t hear the end of it for the next three weeks at minimum). However, he did not dress it well in the slightest and if he did clean it, then he did not do a thorough enough job by your standards.

Mingi’s glass is empty by the time you finish wrapping a fresh and proper bandage around his arm, securing it in its place with a strip of medical tape. You lean back to admire your handiwork that’s far and away better than what you started with. Mingi twists to look over it as well.

“Not half bad, huh?” you quip, nudging his knee with your hip before turning to return everything to where you dragged it from. Mingi’s fingers pinch and hook on the fabric of your front pocket first. In one quick motion, he spins you back to face him, though now he’s gotten to his feet and presses so close to you that you come face to face with his torso.

You get your first taste of him tonight right then when he dips down to capture your lips with his. Bourbon and orange sit heavy on his tongue as he licks into your mouth, and you drink in the taste. Like you’ve been starved of the taste for eons, like you’ve been searching for an oasis in the midst of a desert and he’s the last source of water on the planet. You laugh against his lips at the thoughts running through your mind at present — they sound more like the sweet nothings and pillow talk he would whisper to you before falling asleep under the stars than thoughts of your own.

Mingi shifts his weight against you and diverts all your thoughts towards other, much larger, and much more prominent things. Namely what’s pressing hard into your hip through his leather pants and making itself very known to you.

“Eager much?” you murmur, lips pulling up at the corners. Mingi’s hands move to the bar counter and cage you in against the wood. A shaky breath escapes you, one of anticipation and budding arousal. As the air from your lips fans out across Mingi’s sharp features, he leans in and catches skin between teeth, nipping and tugging hard enough to sting. First at your already swollen lips, then lower just below your jaw, again and again on the way down your neck until he’s satisfied to pause at your collarbone. He drags teeth over the fragile skin there in a way that makes goosebumps rush over your skin.

Hands scramble to find purchase on each other’s bodies, and when that’s not enough, Mingi settles to sweep his arms wildly behind you on the counter. It sends the first aid kit flying, tipping it over the edge of the bar and making it clatter on the ground. His empty glass follows a similar path and meets a much more brutal fate; it shatters against one of the stools and splays across the floor to your left. The door to the roof bangs open to interrupt the spell placed between your bodies.

“Oi! Quit trashing my fucking glasses unless you're planning on replacing every last fucking one of them!”

The door slams back shut so quickly that you don’t have the opportunity to respond in the slightest, and the shock it leaves with you makes a laugh rip from your lips. You duck your head to rest against Mingi’s shoulder, laughing under your breath as the adrenaline pumps your heart more and more.

“Good to know he’s still alive, I suppose,” Mingi jokes through a laugh of his own, just before you lift your head and reach for another kiss.

“Let’s break some more shit just to piss him off.” Said somewhat as a joke, and other parts a completely serious attempt to weasel your way under Hongjoong’s skin, Mingi ignores that in favor of pulling you away from the bar. His hands pull and tug at your thighs, a clear urging to get you to wrap your legs around his waist, and you give him what he desires so desperately in exchange for a kiss that’s full of teeth and saliva. 

Your hands never settle on any particular part of him for a second longer than needed — you want him in ways that are beyond simple desire, and your eagerness must be evident to some degree based on how Mingi nips at your lower lip. He’s not very gentle in the way he splays you over the pool table, and you narrowly miss the triangle of balls in the center as your head thuds against the surface. Mingi hoists your hips closer to the edge of the table without preamble. Just as you’re reaching down to wrap a hand around the back of his next, aiming for another kiss, Mingi ducks down between your legs. 

“Min—oh.” Your gut tightens and cuts your train of thought short. There’s pressure between your legs and against your sex, even through your pants, you can feel the efforts of his fingers at your clit. You swing an arm wildly around the table in search of something to ground yourself yet all you can hold onto is the border of the table. 

“Want me, angel?” His nails dig into your skin around the waistband of your pants. It’s enough to sting and burn, you tighten your grip on the table as though it’s Mingi you’re grabbing instead, and he lets out a low chuckle that reverberates through you. “Such a pretty little thing you are… letting me have my way with you.”

“I—” air hisses through your gritted teeth as Mingi begins to drag your pants down your legs at an agonizing pace “—I’ll take charge myself if you don’t speed things up a bit, angel.”

He’s laughing again as he stands upright, pants pulled down to your ankles, and he leans over your prone body to look you in the eye. When he speaks again, his breath is hot on your lips.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, y/n. I’m at your mercy whenever you want me to be.” He lowers his face to your neck, teeth snagging the fragile skin there and nipping hard enough to make your body tingle. “You can even have me on my knees if that’s what you want…”

“Mingi.” This time, rather than an attempt to spur him on, your tone begs him to slow down because the mere prospect of what he’s whispering into your skin has your head spiraling. Of course, now, he doesn’t wish to do that. He hooks two fingers around the crotch of your underwear, which in turn causes his knuckles to drag through your sopping folds and give you the slightest bit of stimulation. The weight of his body does nothing to keep you from jolting under him, a startled moan slipping out right against the shell of Mingi’s ear.

“Don’t you feel it, darling?” he murmurs against you as your panties are stripped from your body just as your pants were. “That rush of adrenaline — I’m still feeling the high of that fight and getting shot. Makes me wanna fuck you into oblivion even more than ever.”

“Some wou-would call that insanity, hun.”

“Hm? That I get turned on when it’s a close call?” His arm buckles when he tries to brace himself against the table, and your eyes flit over to the wrapped wound there nervously. Red peeks through the bandages again, yet he doesn’t seem to mind one bit. He notices your focus in an instant, though seems far less concerned than you are. He keeps that arm where it is as he reaches down to his pants and undoes them as best he can with one hand. There’s fairly little effort in that regard, however, because all he does is move them enough to pull his dick out. You barely get a glimpse at what all he’s doing before you feel him against your cunt, nudging between your folds. “Feels even better when I’m hurtin’, angel.”

Mingi rolls his hips forward, but he doesn’t enter you quite yet. His cock thrusts between your folds in a lewd imitation of the real thing. His focus shifts from watching the way his cock pushes against your clit to see your reactions unfold. You sling your arm forward and clench your fingers hard around his forearm.

“You want it to hurt or no?” Mingi asks through a grunt, hand pressed down over where his cock slides against you to form something of a pseudo-hole for him to fuck. 

“No prep, please, just — just go in.” His pace falters slightly at the permission, though the look in his eyes tells you that he wants nothing more than to do that right now. “And come inside, please~” A low blow, perhaps, but you know it’ll knock his evident concerns about your well-being away in full, and it does indeed spur him into action. 

“Grab my arm.”

“I am.”

“Not like that, darling.” Mingi reaches around with his used hand, wet with your arousal and his combined, and he grips your wrist until you let go of his forearm. You don’t realize what he’s wanting until he guides you up to his bicep and places your hand right over his injury. “Hurt me a bit, angel, you know I love it.” You tighten your hold around the bandage just a little. “Don’t be afraid to make me bleed.”

“Mingi,” you exhale, then he’s spreading his fingers around your neck. Your breath hitches in your throat.

“Do you trust me, y/n?”

“Of course.”

“Then hurt me,” he says before lining himself up with your entrance and pushing into you slowly and deliberately. The stretch burns something awful, and it draws a noise that’s more akin to a wail than a lust-filled moan out of you. Surely something your companion upstairs on the roof will overhear and wonder about, but he’s never interrupted beyond a certain point before and you’re confident he won’t now either. Regardless, the thought of Hongjoong is a dwindling one that doesn’t linger long because Mingi fills your senses to the brim, as well as you In the filthiest way you can describe. You’re hardly conscious of how hard you’re clinging to him, but the palm of your hand is wet against his arm, and he’s tensing in your grasp with each passing second. 

There’s something terribly exhilarating about it. You understand, for a moment, that rush of adrenaline he had mentioned not long ago. As your body stretches to form around his length, you find yourself wanting to mold him in similar ways. The pressure on your neck increases bit by bit; Mingi leans further over you and pushes his hand more into your throat. It’s far from safe but it hurts so good that your brain feels fogged already.

“Fuck,” you hear the word slip off Mingi’s tongue once he’s fully buried inside your tight heat, walls firm around his thick cock.

“Don’t make me wait long,” you say back, tone nothing but breathy thanks to the pressure restricting you. 

You had grown up hearing the notion that there is no violence in love, but there is in both infatuation and obsession. Perhaps you and Mingi are living proof of that, with how you exercise your affections onto each other in ways that would be considered sinister to others, but at the end of the day, you two are simply indulging in things that bring you both pleasure. 

Mingi heeds your words so carefully and doesn’t waste a second longer than he has to before he’s beginning to drive his cock in and out of your cunt. You cling to him all the same, only squeezing harder as the ache blooms into something more pleasurable than painful. You still taste citrus on your tongue, a lingering gift from his lips, and your brain hones in on that taste as it becomes harder to breathe under his palm. You’re far from light-headed, especially with how his grip rubs up and down your neck with the force of his thrusts. It will leave marks, perhaps your whole neck will be red as though you’d been scratching at it all night, but you revel in the fact that you will be leaving Mingi will a similar mark. A wound that’s nothing more than a graze across his skin will bloom into something that lasts longer and bothers him a bit more. Perhaps he will be back to you before it’s even healed.

“Mingi,” you moan, chin tipping back further. He’s quiet as always — though only in terms of actual words because his lewd noises don’t cease for a second, and he nearly has you beat with how many groans drip from his lips like sinful honey. You wish to drink it all up, take every noise from his tongue and swallow them with your own until there’s nothing left unshared between the two of you. 

It’s deeply carnal the way he fucks you like he’s clinging to a lifeline, and you feel the urgency in his movements from how his hips snap against your body to how heavy and frantic his breathing has become. Though, you’re no better than he, dancing to the same illicit tune.

Suddenly you can breathe easy again, and you gulp down the air that enters your mouth so greedily that you almost choke on it. Mingi’s hand drags from the column of your throat down your torso until he has his fingers settled against your cunt just above where his dick connects your bodies.

“Come on me, darling, fuckin’ cream all over my dick like you’re made to.” The way he rolls your clit between his fingertips is brutally stimulating. It fills you with such a white-hot pleasure that you’re forced to release his arm in favor of covering your mouth to keep your noises from resonating through the room further. Mingi snatches your arm away in a split second, making sure that all you’re able to accomplish is a quick smear of his blood across your face. He folds himself over your body just as the stimulation sends you over the edge you’re teetering at, and as you unfurl into an orgasm, Mingi is there to drag his tongue across your cheek and jawline. When your back curls off the pool table, he sneaks the hand that was just toying with your clit around your back and holds your body up to his.

The kiss he delivers to your lips is one that’s metallic and wet, but you greet his tongue with your own in a fit of eagerness to feel him further. He hoists you further up until you’re all but seated on his cock. The throb between your legs is still so intense that you don’t notice his dick twitching against your walls, nor do you feel the first spurts of come inside you, but you do notice when Mingi bites your tongue hard enough to make it bleed. You’re still writhing in his grasp when he stops thrusting up into your pussy, and you cling to his face like letting go is simply not an option. 

It hurts when your mouths finally separate because then you feel the throb of the bite on your tongue in full and taste the evidence of it in the back of your throat. 

“Satisfied, angel?”

Your breath intermingles with his, and he’s still chasing your mouth in the hopes of taking another kiss from you. There’s a grin tugging at the corners of your lips as you press your index finger to his chin.

“Not even close.”

He laughs.

“Good, because I’m hardly done with you yet.”

────────────

please like & reblog this work and consider leaving a reply or sharing your thoughts in a reblog or ask!

this work belongs to caly / hongism (2023). do not copy, repost, or plagiarize in any way.

[octopodeez]

Hi! I don’t know if your requests are open, but if they’re I would please like to request a Sanji x petite (like 5 feet) female reader

Please and thank you!

Sanji (5’ 11”) and a petite reader (5’), you say???????

💛Sanji simps out over you on his knees a lot because no matter the height, women are always above him (especially you).

💛His favorite place in the world is on the deck of the Sunny, where he can lean against the trunk of one of the tangerine trees with you sat between his legs, your back against his chest. Some days you read while he rests his chin on top of your head and semi-follows along on the pages. Other days he wraps his arms and legs around you as you nap.

💛Zoro called you “squirt” once and Sanji kicked him so hard he almost flew off the ship.

💛Sanji isn’t one to tease you for your height. Like, if you’re trying to reach a shelf that’s too high, it is the shelf’s fault and not yours. (“What were they thinking when they built this? How dare this shelf make my goddess strain herself?”)

💛Every night Sanji secretly PRAYS you will let him be big spoon so he can wrap his arms and legs all around you. The fact that such a goddess can fit so perfectly in his arms??? A miracle! A blessing! He is the luckiest man in the world!!

💛But also if being big spoon is more your thing that’s fine too, he will still be so pleased that he gets to be in the arms of a literal angel! A princess! His sweet queen!!!

💛Even though he’ll never admit it out loud, there’s something about the way you look when you’re on your tip toes that drives him insane. Your calves get all taught and your brow furrows a little and oh my god if you pop one of your feet in the air as you lean forward to stretch just a liiiittttle further to get whatever you’re trying to reach, he will almost always pass out from blood loss.

💛He’s a leg guy for sure and honestly shorter legs just means it takes him less time to properly kiss his way from your ankle to ur pussy.

💛Despite being taller than you during the day, you are taller than him at night bc he likes you on top, fingers laced together while he slowly rolls his hips to thrust up into you (if you think his queen has to do any work at all you are INCORRECT).

💛 Lots of lil kisses on the top of your head.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

John Stone - Yandere - You will be mine

warning : John being John, implied/mentioned torture, implied smut, flirting, use of Y/n for one time, obsession

Summary : A new victim a slow agonizing death. But not for John's latest victim no she was different she was chaste and not a slut and he wanted her...just for himself

Info : Despite the fact that I saw the movie years ago, a little obsession spark is back and now I want to watch it again (can only recommend it because of Costas). Have fun reading I think there will be more to come for him have fun ;)

(gif by @angels-holocaust)

Part. 2 , Part.3

masterlist

-----------------------

°In his world view and perspective, all women are sluts that men must rebuke and free from the world. At least until his eyes fell on you in the small town. A newcomer to the town, she had fled the big city and come here hoping for peace and quiet. He saw her for the first time when he bought flowers with his daughter. He knew almost all the people in the city and knew which were a danger to him and which were not. But she was different, he was wrong and she was good and pure.

°He watched her go into town more and more often over the next few days it was a stalking mission only she was the prize. What started with another visit to the flower store he watched her and saw her little smile as she served the customers. She didn't seem to lose her smile, didn't seem to look down on the others and her clothes were normal. She was not like the others. She didn't give him the anger and desire to torture. It evoked something else...protection

°He bought red roses from her again, his gaze followed hers and saw that she was looking almost ashamed at the bouquet she was wrapping for him. ,,Have a nice day, sir," she said gently and reservedly, giving him a sincere smile. A smile, a look that wouldn't let him go. It wasn't a fake smile behind a held-out hand, it was sincere. She seemed sincere.

°She was sincere and friendly to him the whole time he was in the store. Her clothes were a light-colored blouse with a floral pattern closed at the top and a long skirt that almost completely covered her thighs. It was like he imagined, it wasn't sloppy, it was neat and carefully chosen. The little cross necklace seemed almost superfluous and yet cute. His attempts to flirt or come across as charming were not noticed by her.

°Until suddenly. She was in a corner of the store trying to reach one of the upper flower pots and couldn't manage it. ,,Wait sweetie there you go," he had taken the chance and given her the top, his grip was clearly above her and he had almost trapped her between the shelf and himself. Got you he had thought to himself as he lingered like that for a moment, almost too long. But nothing came, no flirting back, no look, no drawing in of air, no stripping him with her gaze and no touch. She had not dared to look at him. Instead, she looked down with warm red cheeks and mumbled, ,,Thank you... Mister" as he handed her the pot and let go of her. She looked embarrassed and ashamed as she went back to her work.

°But perhaps it was at this time that his murders and torture became all the worse. He ignored his stepdaughter and the victims blurred into her more and more. He saw her lying on the couch and saw the tears running down her cheeks. Pretty. But the other side of him that had never stopped fighting wanted to see how far he could push her. ,,When are you going to break?" he asked the corpse in front of him, but all he could hear was the blood dripping from the flesh wound.

°To his surprise, when he went back into town the next day, he didn't find her in the flower store. Of course he had asked one of her colleagues who of course jumped on him but he would leave that for later. Instead, he found out that she worked in the local store for the needy and veterans on a voluntary basis. Going there, he actually saw her helping an old lady carry the groceries from the store to the bus. The former soldier had his plan, he knew how he would get her.

°He would get her his pious angel his favorite his just his she was his. She was the only thing in this world that didn't seem to be three. He wanted to get her and have her in his hands. To feel her, to look at her, to perceive everything about her. But as much as he loved her obsessively, the more he wanted to see how he could endure her. She could be the thing that could make him stop or make things worse. How long can you hold out?

°He waited a few days knowing that the police were still keeping their eyes open but that didn't change his plan. He went to her during the lunch break with a box of food in his hand. She seemed to be rearranging other boxes when she noticed him. ,,Oh hello Mister...thank you again for your help" she said and smiled gratefully at him was the picture of perfection and not perversion. ,,Call me John honey" he said and put the box on a free place at the table. He saw the happiness in her eyes, it was cute. It was cute to be able to make her happy so easily.

°And he caught himself thinking of her as his wife on the one hand. His thoughts were running over her in his house, the image mingling with the desire to punish the whores. But for her? He would do anything to make her scream and moan in one way or another. Maybe first chained and then like on a leash? Like his pet or his wife, or both, but with her features she would be so good. He knew it.

°,,John, I'm Y/n can I help you?" she asked and it almost seemed as if she was trying to influence him. To pay off the debt when he helped her. ,,Yeah, I've got loads of groceries at home but my stepdaughter is at her mom's and my friends are all still at work...could you come and help me?" he asked, knowing that any other girl would have said no. Following a complete stranger they would have thought that far and run away. It was such a simple lie that even a policeman and probably anyone else would have seen through it.

°All except his sweet, naive darling and he would have loved to put his hand on her cheek and tell her not to trust strangers and teased her until she begged him to stop. A stimulating thought until he saw her licking her clothes and said that it could start right away. You have no idea darling he thought as he smiled at her and opened the door to his car for her, ,,You'll be surprised how versatile everything everything is already prepared" he said watching her get in and closing the door and starting the engine. She was as good as his.

----------------

@costashoffman , @klarise (did you know the movie?) , @horrorxgorewhore , @alizzy18 , @librababe99 , @mrkheartffmans , @hoffmansnightmare , @lola-max-sugar

[peterman-spideyparker]

Dust to Dust (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! I have had this one in my drafts for *literally* ever, and I’m finally getting around to posting it. Enjoy! :)

Summary: You finally move in with Matt, working to make his apartment feel like a shared space that you both can call home when the unimaginable happens.

Warnings: Fluff, domesticity, angst, The Snap, hurt/comfort, mentions of grief, not proof read/edited as well as it could be

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson, Karen Page (mentioned)

Word Count: 1,519

“Hey, Matty?” you ask as you climb in the step stool. 

“Yeah, angel?” he calls from the kitchen.

“Did I leave the duster on the barstool?”

“Why would it be on the barstool?”

You let out an exasperated sigh and smile as you twist toward him, watching how he stands and smirks in the kitchen, leaning forward on the butcher block counter. He is a sight to behold, truly. You never would have thought that if someone had told you two years ago that one of the alumni attorneys talking to your trial ethics class would become your boss for an internship and your boyfriend, you would have thought that you were living some fantasy—especially when you found out about his secret. Now that you’re officially moved in, fantasy and reality are meshing in the best kind of ways.

“Stop being sassy, Murdock. I can see it right there.”

“Then why don’t you come over yourself and get it?”

“You’re right next to it, Matty. I’d have to walk across the apartment.”

“Walking is good for you. It’ll get your blood circulating.”

“Uh, badgering, counselor.”

“Stating the facts of the case, counselor,” he smiles right back. 

“If you bring the Swiffer over here, I’ll give you a kiss.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Mmmhm. I’m also gonna shower in a bit, so if you bring that over and help me, your reward might be more than a kiss.”

“That sounds quite nice, angel. It’s also bribery. It’s unethical.”

“But is it working?”

“With the promise of your kisses? Of course it’s working.”

“Then grab that duster and get that cute butt of yours over here.”

You both laugh, and you turn your attention back to the shelf, moving things down on the top of the cabinet bookshelf below for the time being.

“Would you be okay if I hung some pictures while I’m up here, Matt?” you ask, only to hear the soft plastic clatter of the duster hitting the floor. Matt doesn’t drop things. You turn around and see the Swiffer on the floor, Matt no where to be found.

“Matt?” you call into the apartment, every second where you don’t see or hear him making you grow more worried. “Matt?” You step down and slowly walk through the apartment. “Matthew, if you’re trying something, this isn’t funny!” You franticly move around the apartment, feeling nauseous as ice runs through your veins and your skin burns hot when you officially run out of places to look for him. “Matt?. . .”

He’s gone.

“I don’t know,” you sigh as you fiddle with the key ring, swinging the door open and just dropping your purse and keys on the table by the door, putting your briefcase in the living room as you move through the apartment. Even though it’s been five years and you’ve added some touches of yours here and there, the apartment still doesn’t feel it belongs to you in the slightest. The thing that’s missing—the person that would tie it all together—has been missing for five years, just like your friends and half of the population.

“I think I just need to shower and wash the day off,” you continue to tell your mom. “I’ll text a bit later. I have a lot of files I need to sort through for my case. Love you, bye.”

Hanging up, you let out a tired sigh and take off your clothes, letting the hot water roll down your body to loosen your tense muscles. You run through the things you need to do—which files to go through first, what you need to grab at the grocery store, how soon you can go to sleep. You hum as you scrub the shampoo deep into your scalp, like you’re trying to physically reach past your skull and smush your brain between your fingertips. As you do so, you feel a large pair of hands and hairy arms wrap around you, and you scream at the top of your lungs.

“Angel, angel, calm down!” you hear a voice you’ve missed for five years cut through your screams. “It’s just me! It’s me, sweetheart!”

Turning around in his grip, you see Matt, just like the day he disappeared.

“Matt?” you whimper, on the verge of tears.

“Yeah . . . (Y/N), what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

The tenderness in his voice, the way he says your name, the way he holds onto you, it’s enough for you to break down in tears. Matt just holds you, letting you cry into his strong chest, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. You don’t know how long you cry for, but it is long enough for the shampoo to be completely washed from your hair and for your fingers to be far past pruney. Matt kisses your forehead, grabbing a towel to dry you off before sliding his shirt from the floor onto your body. Picking you up as you cling onto him, he walks you to the bedroom and sits you down on the mattress.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?” he asks softly once more, tucking a thick, wet tress of hair behind your ear.

“You . . .” you sniffle and wipe tears off of your cheeks. “Matt, you were gone for five years.” 

“I . . . What?”

“I thought you heard something and had to run and help, but you don’t drop things, and you dropped the Swiffer. I couldn’t find you. I couldn’t find anyone. So many people just disappeared. Just gone, Matty.”

A million questions rush across Matt's face in a second, but he doesn’t ask any of them. Instead, Matt kisses you again, holding you into his chest. “How’d you get through it?”

“I threw myself into work. I kept the practice alive. It was hard, but, Matty . . . the people that come to Nelson and Murdock needed someone. If I stopped to think—if I didn’t help—I would’ve drowned in grief.”

“You . . . You kept it going? All by yourself?” 

“They needed help. You had to come back. I had to do it.”

“Sweetheart . . .”

“I spruced the office up a little. I got a new table for the conference room, and a new coffee table. Some plants.” 

“Doing well for yourself, there, angel,” he says with a little smile. “I mean, Foggy and I could never dream of office plants.”

You smile softly back at him. He’s actually here. “I always told you I was the better attorney.”

“I never doubted that for a second, sweetheart.”

As you lean in for another kiss, you gasp when a thought crosses your mind.

“What is it, (Y/N)?”

“Foggy and Karen! If you’re back, they’re back!” You lean over to where you threw your phone on the bed and call each of them quickly, hanging up as soon as they answer, but not without an excited squeal before you lean forward and knock down Matt with a hug, tears streaming down your face once more. “You guys are back! Oh my God! Everyone’s back!”

The way that Matt’s lips feel on your skin after so long is like heaven, a blessing that you never thought you were going to feel again. 

“I’m not going to have to fight off any new boyfriends that walk in and see us like this, am I?” Matt asks softly into your shoulder, but you can sense the genuine nerves behind it, and it’s written clearly across his face when you lean back.

“No, Matt.”

“Because, I mean, I could always use the blind card.”

“It’s cute when you do that to get extra waffles. But it’s not something you have to worry about, Matty. I swear.”

“So, not once in five years?”

“No. Not once.”

Matt brings his lips to yours, rolling you over and letting you feel every muscle of his that you’ve missed. God, you’ve missed him. You’ve missed his warmth, his weight, the way that he knows exactly what to do make your heart skip a beat and feel like the only girl in the world. You’ve missed the callouses of his fingers, the hair on his arms, the rough stubble on his jaw, how his big, beautiful nose smushes against yours. But most of all, you’ve missed how everything feels right when Matt is with you.

“Matt . . .”

“We were already planning to do it, and my sweet girl hasn’t felt good in five years,” he hums as he kisses your neck. “Please. Please let me show you how much I love you.”

“I—ah.”

“Sweetheart?” he says softly as he pulls off. 

“I just want to hold you, Matt,” you say, listening to how your voice cracks. “We can do that any time, but I just need to hold you some more.”

His face softens before he leans forward to kiss your forehead. “Of course, angel. I can never say no to your snuggles.”

“Good, because I’m not letting go.”

“And I’ll hold on tight.” You hear Matt let out a faint hum as he wraps his arms around you and gives you a gentle squeeze as you let yourself fall asleep, relaxed for the first time in five years while his heartbeat echos in your ear.

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger​ @steampowerednightvaler​ @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles​ @toozmanykids​ @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop​ @itwasthereaminuteago​ @peter1ismybrother@hellskitchens-whore​​ @dpaccione​ @catnip987​

[bardic-tales]

Closed RP • Final Fantasy 7 OG • Sephica tagging: @bigbillythewetwilly

Beginnings || Starter

• Nibelheim, 0002

As silence permeated the underground library, the only sound heard was the slow page turning of books, the muttering of the man, the leather and metal ringing as the sole person in the room reached for the book on the bookcase's top shelf.

The large, black spider skittered to the left of the shelf, backing up against the wooden side. It reared up and waved it's enormous, hairy legs at the person.

Up above them, a gust of wind ripped through the room. A large portal opened near the rafters. The spinning arms of a crimson nebula, twinkling stars, and soft glow of heavenly objects shimmered beyond the tear in reality, causing the person to question their already fragile sanity.

A black tachi fell from the portal, and the weapon screamed in its fall, as several white feathers tumbled with it. The metal screamed in its descent until the point of the tachi embedded deeply into the wooden desk below while the plumage gracefully floated in the air, falling end over end like the last fallen leaves in a wintry gale. Suddenly, a winged form appeared from the cosmic rift. Her blonde hair streamed around her face, the light strands whipping against her cheeks and bridge of her nose. Her snow white wings fluttered in her rocky descent. The feathers ruffled and trembled around her body, as bone pushed through her downy wing arch. Blood streamed from her unconscious, battered body and poured onto the ground in sick, reddening rivers.

[freedomfireflies]

How would each of your Harry’s react to finding out their girls were in the hospital? Either sick or in an accident of some type.

OOOOOO!!!! Okay okay let me think....

Teach Me Harry: He's probably the one that had to bring you as a result of you climbing up onto the counter in your kitchen to reach something on the top shelf of the cabinet (before falling to your inevitable injury).

I think he'd be calm for your sake!!! But he'd be holding your hand through the whole thing!! Thumb stroking back and forth over your knuckles, smiling softly and nodding his encouragement when you have to get some blood work done!!

Mine Harry: He's also probably the one to take you, but because you can't go to an actual hospital, he pays someone off the record to come over and help.

He speaks in hushed tones (probably threatens the mans life to make sure he doesn't fuck it up), and keeps one hand on you at all times. Kisses to your forehead, arm around your shoulders, always at your beck and call!! And he frowns a lot, even though you try to assure him that you'll be okay!!

One for the Money Harry: Well, he's already got the hospital in his pocket, but he makes sure you get your own, private room (a suite, more like). He's always talking to the doctors to figure out what they know and berate them for taking so damn long!!

He's not the best at providing bedside manners and comfort but he does his best. Sits in the chair with you, waiting for hours on end before snapping at a nurse because they haven't brought you a pudding cup yet HAHAHA

iFall Harry: Oh, he's on the first flight back the second he gets word. Which is why you've learned that you can't tell him before an important event or show. Instead, you tell his manager, who then waits until the appropriate time to mention it once the show is over!!

And Harry is always furious because he hates knowing he's left you alone but he can't yell at you (cause you're his baby angel and you're hurt), so instead he yells at everyone else HAHAHA

404 Harry: Okay, this is tricky. If he were there when you got hurt, he'd absolutely take you to get checked out and fixed. But if he found out that you'd hurt yourself or were sick and you were back at your own place? That man is sending you a, "👍" and that's it HAHAHAH

[statiicstag]

x @angie-long-legs // @top-shelf-tender

If Angel is trying to make him jealous he's missed the mark – but if it is a challenge he's searching for, Alastor is never one to be the first to throw in the towel.

❝ For the same reason anyone does anything at all, my dear, ❞ Alastor begins, gaze fixed firmly on Angel even as he walks around Husk to lean against him, two spindly hands crawling up his back to rub at his shoulders at the same time the arachnid makes his mark. ❝ Because I wished to. ❞

The Radio Demon pressed against Husk's back and Angel Dust sitting across his lap, Husk is entirely caged in between them. Nowhere to run. As if he even wants to.

Still making unwavering eye contact with Angel and never once sparing the feline receiving their affections a second glace, he leans down to graze his teeth across the opposite side of Husk's throat. And then his teeth sink in, again, enough for blood to well to the surface of the inflicted mark and dribble down his chin.

[icky-rickyy]

The Bell

Aziraphale finally returns from heaven, and Crowley is less than pleased

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A bell sounded above the door as he swung the painted wood open. That's new  he had thought. He'd never remembered the bell being that loud. The rusty hinges of the old bookshop door always welcomed him and signified his entry and the bell became background noise. He turned lazily on his heels as he walked in, looking up to a brightly polished brass bell attached to the door frame.  There was a pang of disappointment. Things were finally starting to change, and he wasn't a fan.

Thankfully, It still smelt the same inside as it always did. Dusty, dry old books and leather polish for the upkeep of the angel's most prized literature.  Crowley's eyes scanned the walls of the bookshop, a few shelves and books had shifted from their regular spot, the rings of dust changing places.

"Hello! We're clo- Crowley? What are you doing back here?" Muriel wandered into the middle of the room from some far off corner. She'd changed her clothes since he'd last seen her, but she was still adorned mostly in white.

"Visiting. Am I not allowed?" His snark was purely jest, and as naive as Muriel is it flew directly over her head. He'd wandered to the floral armchair sat in front of the desk. Caressing the wood furnishings before turning around swiftly and sitting down promptly in the chair. He looked over the secretary for a moment, its door had been closed since he had left. He's sure the key to open the desk was somewhere hidden in a hollowed out book.

"No, always. Of course you're allowed. Can I do something for you?" She bounced happily on her heels with her hands clasped behind her back.

Crowley scoffed. "Nng. Now that I'm here I can watch the shop. Why don't you leave me to it?" He looked over the frame of his dark glasses with raised brows.

"Well, where might I go?"

"Ah. Take the stairs, at the top there is a room to your left. Go sit in there until I ask of you otherwise."

Muriel hummed happily with a curt nod of her head and her feet swept her quickly towards the stairs. Crowley listened to her feet against the metal spiral stairs until she reached the wood floor of the landing and he let out a deep breath. His whole body condensed into the creases of the armchair, and he felt the spirit of his Angel embrace him within the fabric. He didn't often indulge in the comfort of Aziraphale's floral chair, in fact it had been quite some time since he'd been back in the shop to begin with. 

He peered across from his seat to the leather lounger displayed properly with pillows and throw blankets. Crowley had stayed up many nights on the sofa with Aziraphale. Limbs crossed messily, drunk on the Angel's finest of wines as they slurred their words together and held their glasses loosely by their stems.  The throw pillows never stayed on the sofa, and once Crowley had managed to spill an entire glass of rare wine on the carpet as his lips mingled messily with Aziraphale's.

The floral chair made his throat choke up, and the leather lounger made his yellow eyes fill with tears. There was a reason he stopped coming around the shop.

Crowley was shocked back to a focused mind when the doors of the shop opened and that damned bell rang loudly. Muriel probably installed it. Damn Muriel.

Crowley's spine had been shaken straight and his hands prepared to push him up at his knees. That was until he stopped frozen in the floral armchair as his ears rang and his blood ran colder than it normally does.

"Muriel? Where are you? Oh how dearly I've missed that bell!"

A voice as smooth as the most beautiful songs carried its way through the dusty bookshop air, and Crowley wished hell would drag him through this damned floral chair and far out of sight.

He'd considered hiding for a moment. Quickly ducking behind a nearby shelf of books and staking out until Aziraphale had left. But the quicker his steps sounded, the more mesmerized by his voice he became, the slower his heart started to beat.

There was only a few more brief moments Aziraphale wouldn't be able to see him. A large stack of books on a chest made a wall between the door and Aziraphale's desk, and at his height he'd need to round that corner to see him.

Be cool.  Crowley attempted to condition himself. To regulate and prepare

"Muriel?" Aziraphale rounded the corner just as Crowley gathered enough strength to fully stand, wiping his hands off on his tight black jeans.

They both stopped for a brief moment. Crowley could feel the world spinning, his stomach churning in discomfort and confusion as his heart seemed to expand three sizes in his chest. Aziraphale's mouth fell open, and his lips seemed to move on their own as he inaudibly babbled like a fish out of water.

Crowley didn't remember him being so short, and his hair seemed to get lighter and a dash longer. He was dressed in stark white like all proper angels of heaven are, and there was something about that Crowley hated.

Aziraphale noted Crowley's darker hair. He'd remembered it being a flaming red, standing tall like his confidence. Now it was almost pitch black, only a sheen of red when he shifted his weight in the light, and it was swooped off to the side to stay out of his face.

"Crowley? What are you doing here?" Aziraphale spoke breathlessly. He was almost too afraid to move. His heart longed for Crowley every day in heaven, and to see him now in his home on earth, his heart pounded out of his chest.

"Eh, just leaving actually. G'dbye."  Crowley gave a curt nod and took a swift swing of his leg to side step and begin walking out of the bookshop.

"Crowley. Hold on. Wait!" Aziraphale's body turned with Crowley to follow him towards the door. He had stopped abruptly, turning on the heel of his snakeskin shoe.

"Wait? You want me to wait? I'm bloody sick and tired of fucking waiting." His words seethed from behind his teeth and his snake tongue chattered in his mouth.

"I don't-What do you mean? I've missed you." Aziraphale's forehead ached from how tightly his brows are knitted together and his breath is shaking in his throat.

"Do you actually not know how long you've been gone?"

Aziraphale's head shook slowly as he quietly babbled again. "I was busy. I'm in charge, I had a lot of things to oversee." He defended.

Crowley scoffed, rolling his serpentine eyes behind his glasses. "Three and a half years, Supreme Archangel Aziraphale." He spat loudly. "You've been gone for three and a half goddamn years. I've waited around long enough."

He could feel every molecule of broken heart and rage rumble up his throat, he could feel the heat boil in his stomach, and he was just about to explode. Aziraphale standing there, mouth hanging open with sadness in his eyes only infuriated him further.

"Ya know, at first it was hope. I waited around down here in your damn chair for half a year waiting for you to realize you made a mistake. Waiting for you to finally realize you made a mistake leaving me here. Then I moved to our- your room." Crowley's heart stuttered in his chest. "I laid in that bed for three more months waiting, until I finally slept for 10."

He was blistering. Like that one day in the street where the heat of hell rose to the surface of his skin and it burst through like white hot rage. Crowley could feel his eyes bulge, the dry constriction at the back of his throat. He knew what this was.

He was about to cry.

"Then, I finally decided to fuck off to any place but here. I wasted three years waiting for you. I thought you would come back, and you never did. So, damn you to hell! And damn you and waiting any fucking longer." Crowley reached out with a rough hand and shoved Aziraphale in the chest. He really felt it now. The shiver of his chin, the heat of his eyes, and the running of his nose.

Crowley couldn't hide his sniffle or of the waver of his voice, and hot tears managed to spill past the frames of his dark glasses. As the huff of his chest caught up with him, the more and more pathetic he felt.

And Aziraphale's face.

He was in the middle of attempting to process. Words floating around in his brain and rearranging themselves into their correct order. It showed on his face. An empty stare and that same open mouth. Like he looked lost.

"Please, Crowley. I- Please?" That's all he could manage now, as the words swam loosely in his head.

"I already flew too close to the sun once, you know. I can't believe I was stupid enough to do it again." Crowley finally finished, defeated.

His lungs rattled in his chest and his yellow eyes burned from the tears. He attempted to turn back around to leave, the squeak of his faux snakeskin boots and the sound of the waxed hardwood floor seemed to be amplified.

Aziraphale's brain still pinged around in his skull, the lightning round of information separating and gathering and compartmentalizing. He didn't have anything to say, but there is one thing he knew. He didn't want Crowley to leave.

"Stop, don't-"

Aziraphale stepped forward quickly and reached out with both hands, capturing Crowley's face. His mind thought to that day he left, and every day after where he mulled that kiss over and over in his head. He should have done more, and said more. He can, here and now.

Aziraphale pulled Crowley closer by his face and pressed his own angel soft lips to the demon. It had that same desperate energy as the other kiss. The begging to hold on and stay, the longing and pleading.

Crowley wrapped his arms around the waist of his Angel, pulling him closer. He wanted this embrace to mean so many other things than it truly did. He knew Aziraphale was begging him to stay and to talk, to figure it out and fix it. He only wanted it to mean one thing. I love you.

For the brief moment they embraced, their hands moved just as desperately as the kiss intended. Trying to pull each other closer than their corporations allowed.

When they pulled apart, there was a shared short gasp for air until Crowley completely separated himself.

"Crowley, I-"

The demon shook his head, straightening out his mangled outfit as he began to turn around.

"Crowley!" The angel finally shouted as he was heading towards the door.

"Please forgive me?" Aziraphale hiccuped his own sob as he started to cry.

"Maybe, Angel." Crowley kissed his teeth with a shake of his head as he pulled the doors open.

The bell rang as the door opened and rang as it had left, and Aziraphale had never damned that bell faster than he did now.

[angie-long-legs]

😈Worst thing you’ve ever done to your muse? 

😂Funniest thing that’s ever happened to your muse? 

Mun talks about the muse

😈 Ooft, so far, I think Val forcing Angel to break up with Husk via voice message has been one of the most painful situations I've put him in. Depending on how things go, the thread with @arcanepactguile where Angel drinks Alastor's ✨️mystery potion✨️, this might also be a contender for Angel's Worst Moments (tm).

Aaaaand, of course, the Hotel!Vox verse where Val and Vel have been killed in the exterminations, which I am so excited to write more of! Hope everyone is ready for Angel's villain arc 👀

😂 It's GOTTA be the burger tits, hands down. Iconic. Angel Dust at the Blood Ball, drunk as fuck, smuggling takeout burgers in his tit fluff and breaking his shoes on his way to request CBAT for Val. Another iconic moment was the collar mix-up with @top-shelf-tender , that still makes me giggle. Poor Angel was confused!

[bearratic]

From: Part 1 & Part 2. With @sanctissimx

As a feind, he loses his temper faster than most, the owner of a fuse so short it only needs a far away spark to be set completely alight. As a demon, Ais will tear you apart for looking at him sideways, not to speak about looking his direction in general, it is always your wrong doing. And as one still half a man, one labeled born in hell, Ais posseses deep predilection. A fondness so tender it can only be reserved for just one. If you were to ask him, he’d call it a weakness and slide it off his shoulder as if it was nothing more than a pest. Yet it will never even near the ground, it clingings to him uninvited, simple vexcation he cannot get rid off. Grained within his mind and muscle for just one out there. One the complete opposite to him, one with purpose, held in higher regard than the demon ever will be. The wild storm in the demon’s mind abruptly subsides as a hand is laid on his waist, he had been distributing rage knuckle after knuckle on what can only be said as-.. used to be a face. He looks up, the subtle fingers form a hold on him as they have been there quite a times before. Each singular time they have a different warmth to them, a different elucidation. Wrapping exactly along the lines of his body to fit and remove him from his own doing.

With the last heated spiting of “Bastard.” From the hellhound through his fanged mouth he lets his inebriated body be guided out. The colder Eridian air knocking on the door of his lungs instantly. A stench he finds it. Even so he scrunches his nose, the doctor next to him cleanses his heat fairly quickly, battling the anger with a scent of rosemary and tyme, wood, elegancy. Ais' ill temper made way for a fanged smile and lowly chuckle instead, had he gone too far once again? It didn’t matter, if it was up to him, he hadn’t gone far enough. Purposefully the demon leans into the hold of the taller Kuras just a more than truly necessary in his state. To him it was the obvious move once their hands were slid and locked into each other, so very careful not to scratch his gentler hands with his sharper nails, acessories that coat his fingers or general warmth they seemed to still radiate.

Not a thing escapes those golden angelic eyes as Kuras simmers down the demon, letting him walk in to a familliar zeal and to what Ais would call- sanctuary. The only one the horned one had ever stepped foot in, and not once. It seems deeply buried within him, known like the back of his bloodied knuckles.

A satisfactory grin as he takes seating, one ecxessive move due to the booze laced legs. Nevertheless, his sanguineous filled eyes just as sharp as before. “Tell me, healer. Isn’t favouritism deeply frowned upon in your field of.. work. Hence I seem to take up most of your precious resources.” The grin on his face holding something amiable canceling any harshness to his words, just like the deep gaze in his eyes. Kuras always seems to have time for him, it did not matter the time of day, nor night. The doctor seems to drop it all for him and he will not help but play into that privelage.

Ais- taking off the rings on his bloodied hand, continues. “For you i’d reach further than top shelf if it were to exist.” The blood splurts lingering on his slowly rising and flling chest, trail up to his neck. Both body parts move in shocking rhythm as he chuckles. “I wouldn’t dare defy any word spoken by you.” The demons’ wider frame taking up a spot in the clinic, casting a horned shadow on the walls behind him. The contrary of how the candles seem to specifically enlighten Kuras’ skin, as if it’s made from utmost expensive sleek material. The slow, burning hunger for a touch was biting within Ais. Just a quick feel, just in case it were to suddenly be shroud in darkness, no longer near, he knows holding on will do more harm than good. No need to get so close, and once again be left with a ghost, loneliness always being the most feared within him.

“Are you playing coy with me, doctor?” He speaks to the other, who seems to have his back to him for now. The demon raises out the untainted hand, the friction of his jewlery clinging gently against each other and it instantly falls back onto his thigh. That need for a touch was becoming increasingly dangerous. Like a wild animal he was still refraining from it. The same hand that would let soulless cary out his every desire, now withheld as if the other would fall apart if their skins did meet. Wouldn’t it be most blasphemous?

As the other had turned back to inspect his wounded hand he speaks. “Kuras.” The demon’s lips barely part when he spoke the others name turning it gravelly. Once again the less injured hand reaches out, this time it goes to the top of the others, feeling the bones within answer to the gentle pressure. Ais’ tongue lingers and waits on the sharp edge of a fang, chosing his next words carefully. “What’s an angel like you to do with a stray. Even within a wretched city like Eridia, there are enough standing above what I am. Yet I always find you next to me,”

Returning his hand he lets the other finish up as needed. His head looking up instead of to what is happening to his wounds. Trailing along Kuras’ neck, jaw, the only sliver of chest visible under his veil like coat. Taking him in, the soft gentler scent of the other tempering with his own smell of smoke and destruction.

"An improvement you say? I don't think I wish to do such a thing." The demon averts his gaze, why is it always with Kuras that it feels like not just two, but many eyes are on him. Why is he the only one that gets the respect and admiration without the use of a word. Those eyes, all of them have the same warmth to them, but it seems to be locked away, only spoken through actions. Missing the blood that seemed to have been left on the side of his mouth from the bar completely, he leaves even such a simple task to the trained medical practicioner. The accepted touch comes in the form of Ais turning back to face Kuras, accepting the hand that reaches out to his mouth though closely followed by the deep crimsons. The wipe, the skin on skin had him feeling vulnerable enough to make the demon clench his jaw. But it wasn't anger, neither fear. It was anticipation, it was the slow feeding of his relentless bottomless hunger. The way his blood goes up towards the doctors mouth, as if a most treassured gift and so it is used. It widenes the rogue eyes, not letting the eyecontact they had made drop for a moent, he’d call it a libidinous move. Returning the half curl of his lips, he leans his head nearer to the others body.

A demon that bleeds like a mortal, it would seem pathetic to most but to Kuras, it seemed to be unequal to all others. The wrapped up hands go to the other’s middle, one on each side as Kuras differs in length, making Ais practically stare at it in this seated position. He moves his legs apart, the heavy worn boots on each side just as well, only lessening the distance between doctor and patient every second. “If you’re asking me to stay. Do you think I will be the answer you’re searching for to fill the daunting silence this place brings you?”