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bbyrin · 11 months

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i could stay right here and burn in it all day

✯ pairing: rin itoshi x fem reader

✯ notes: repost from my main blog @/pussydrunkfyodor!! inspired by this post by @kentoangel that immediately made me think of rin :')

✯ warnings: beach sex, prone bone, risky places (kind of), fingering, creampie, pet names (gorgeous, darling, beautiful)

✯ wc: 1.2k

“Rin, honey, I know what you’re trying to do,” you sighed as he sat next to you on your beach towel, grazing his fingers up and down your back.

He just laughs to himself. “I’m not doing anything at all. Am I not allowed to admire the view?”

The sky was painted with swirls of pink and orange as the sun approached the horizon, appearing to sink into the gleaming, cerulean ocean that lapped at the warm sand. That was the view that Rin should’ve been enjoying, but instead, his eyes were glued to you. You were laid on your stomach, head resting on your arms and eyes closed as you inhaled the salty air and relished in the heat. Since the two of you had stumbled upon the secluded beach cove, you had shed your bikini top to avoid tan lines. Which meant that you were laid out, almost completely naked save for the skimpy bottoms that remained tied in loopy bows at your hips. It was driving Rin fucking crazy.

Rin knew he should’ve been appreciating the surreal beach sunset that looked like a Monet painting come to life, but it was impossible to ignore how his cock ached in his swim shorts. The curve of your ass and how the moist skin of your bare back glistened in the orange glow was infinitely more mesmerizing than any scenic view ever could be.

“Can I put some sunscreen on your back?” he asked, already reaching for the bottle in your tote bag.

“The sun is setting, my love,” you mumbled from where your face was buried in your arms.

“You can never be too safe.”

You only sighed as you heard the click of him popping the cap open, and the wet sound of him rubbing the sunscreen between his hands. You shivered a bit as the cool substance came into contact with your toasty skin, but were quickly warmed by Rin’s palms massaging it into your back. It felt heavenly having Rin’s strong, callused palms firmly but gently digging into your skin, working out all the places you didn’t even know you were tense.

You almost got completely lost in the feeling, letting out little groans of pleasure, until you felt his hand wandering towards your lower back, finally coming to cup your ass.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he muttered, abandoning your massage to squeeze the soft fat.

“Rin,” you groaned. He was so predictable – but he couldn’t help it! It wasn’t his fault you were so breathtaking the thought of being inside you was always at least somewhere in his mind.

Soon his hand was slipping into your bikini bottoms, and you didn’t stop him as he traced your slit with his fingers. When the feeling disappeared, you thought he had changed his mind, opting instead to just lay with you, but then you heard the unmistakable sound of him spitting onto his fingers. Finding their way back, he was grazing against your slit again before using two digits to spread you open, prodding at your hole with his middle finger. When you didn’t object, only sighed contentedly, Rin slid one inside you. He was surprised to find you already wet enough to slide in all the way to his knuckle, smirking at how little he had to do to turn you on. He slowly dragged it in and out of you, eliciting small whines and groans from your lips.

Rin’s other hand slipped past his own waistband to grip his hardening cock as he added in a second finger inside you, syncing both movements of his hands together. You groaned in time with each other, smiling softly at the pleasure and stretch. But Rin’s self-control was waning. You knew him well, so it didn’t surprise you when your hole was left empty as he climbed on top of you, leaning down to kiss up the warm skin of your back, towards your neck.

“Hi, gorgeous,” Rin whispered as he approached your ear, unconsciously rubbing his trapped hard-on against your ass.

“Hello, Rin,” you giggled, wiggling your hips to give him some friction, making him grunt.

After shoving his waistband down to free himself, lithe fingers pulled your bikini bottoms to the side, touching you once again. The gentle sound of the waves hugging the shore threatened to lull you to sleep, but his cock nestling between your slit, the head nudging your clit woke you right up. Rin rocked his hips slowly between your lips, taking his time to coat his cock in your slick before realigning himself and pushing inside you.

You weren’t afraid to let out a whine that damn ear echoed off the rocky walls that surrounded you, knowing that no one was around to hear it. His thick girth spread your cunt open wide, but the way his knees were braced against your hips kept you from spreading your legs.

Rin leaned down to kiss your neck again, smiling against your skin as his hands slid underneath you to grasp your tits that were pressed against the towel. He whispered sweet praises into your ear and massaged the fat of your chest as he slowly pushed further inside you, coaxing moans out of you until he bottomed out, hips snug against your ass.

“You okay?” he asked, remaining still to allow for you to adjust. When you nodded, he pulled out just slightly before thrusting back into you again. “Fuck, so fucking tight.”

His dark hair obscured his vision as his head fell, overwhelmed by the feeling. He couldn’t imagine a more perfect scenario – his cock buried deep in his lover’s cunt while the setting sun illuminated their secluded beach cove, everything silent save for the sound of sex and the waves.

Building up a rhythm, he fucked into you faster and faster as his cock throbbed, encouraged by the way you clenched tight around him and moaned out his name. He hugged you close to his chest, groaning at how good you felt. “Your pussy is fucking heaven.”

“Rin,” you whimpered, hand gripping the towel tight. The pleasure was overwhelming, each thrust sending shockwaves from your core all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.

“You like that, baby?” he smirked as he rutted into you, his cock dragging against your sweet spot over and over. One hand still gripping your breast, he rubbed your hard nipples between his fingers.

“Gon – ah! – gonna cum.”

Your words and whining were bringing him closer and closer to the edge, about to reach his own high. “Cum for me, darling,” he whispers, hand finding your clit and rubbing circles around it as he fucked you.

You did exactly as you were instructed, crying out and gasping as your orgasm washed over you like the salty waves, Rin fucking you through the whole thing. His thrusts became more erratic as he chased his own orgasm, and soon he was cumming with grunts and moans as he released inside you, painting your walls white.

Both breathless, you stayed in the same position before Rin finally gathered the energy to pull out, watching with pride as his plentiful cum and your release dripped out of you, soaking the towel underneath you.

Twilight had finally fallen, enshrouding the two of you in the approaching darkness of the night, though the moon glowed bright. Rin held you in his arms tight, head resting on his chest and smiling.

��I love you, Rinnie,” you mumbled, mind clouded by exhaustion and post-orgasm haze.

“I love you more, beautiful.”

#rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi smut #rin itoshi x you #blue lock smut #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #itoshi rin #itoshi rin smut #blue lock fanfiction

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bbyquokka · 9 months

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12:04 am (hhj)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | hwang hyunjin x gender neutral reader

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 | timestamp, smut – 18+ is strongly advised!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | vampire hyunjin, human reader, established relationship, consumption of blood (hyunjin feeds), vampire bites, cock warming. ( if i missed any, lmk! )

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 | 1k ~ ( 1,041 )

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 | i've been playing a lot of baldur's gate 3 (can you guess who i'm obsessed with trying to romance 👀) and ig it inspired this lil thing? idk, i wanted to write vampire stuff soooooo

♡ m.list — ♡ you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

his unusually soft hands holding your hips. his sharp nails digging into the skin, threatening to break the skin and make you bleed. his pale white skin looking ethereal in the shimmering moonlight. his white, shoulder length hair that's half up, half down flowing with the gentle and cool breeze.

to a passing stranger, it simply looks like two normal humans making love under the moonlight after a date but oh no–this is much different.

his eyes shut tightly, plump lips parted as he moans your name in between the short, laboured breaths. his teeth all seem normal, human almost, aside from the two sharp fangs that threaten to pierce the skin of your neck at any moment.

he loves you and you love him but neither of you should succumb to such feelings. humans and unnatural creatures intertwining with one is almost like a curse. but you taste so sweet and sound so sinful to him. your skin heats his cold, pale skin. your blood is so sweet, it's like drinking honey straight from a beehive.

he rescued you. he found you in the woods one night whilst on a hunt. he smelt your blood from a mile off and rushed to the scene, hoping to feast. he didn't expect to stumble across your passed out body, bruises and cuts decorating your skin.

you were running from something; but what exactly? a bear? a hungry wolf perhaps, either way hyunjin saved the questions for later–he had more pressing matters to worry about.

he smelt your blood but so did the other vampires in the vicinity. he doesn't know why but he scooped you up and carried you to his lair. he cared for you, nursed you back to health. when you awoke, understandably you were terrified to be face to face with a vampire.

but hyunjin felt different. he showed compassion which most vampires don't. majority of them look at humans and think ‘food!’ but hyunjin. he held no matter how tough it got for him. he let you stay with him until you had enough strength to fend for yourself but you both grew very close to one another and the thoughts hyunjin was having of feasting on you, shackled him with guilt.

he feasted on deer's, wolves and bears but his insatiable hunger burnt. it clawed its way at him, desperate to be fed what he wants the most and that's you. he's smelt your blood, he cared for you and knows what it looks like and, to him, it looks so delicious.

one day, you offered him your wrist. he's been feasting on nothing but animals for weeks, he's not getting what he needs. the hunger, the thirst; it burns. you found him on his knees in his bedroom in a cold sweat, panting. you didn't recognise him and it scared you.

his fangs on full display. hair sticking to his skin and his red eyes blown out, captivating you and shackling your feet to the floor with fear. he came crashing onto you as soon as you gave him the ok to feast on your wrist. the first time hurt and you were left weak and dizzy for days but the more you allowed him to feast on you, the more you got used to it.

“look at me.” you whisper as you cup his cheeks. his eyes slowly flutter open revealing those blood red pupils you love. “so beautiful.”

“says you. you look gorgeous underneath the moonlight. your skin is so pretty. i'm two thousand years old and i've never felt more alive.”

“s-sh.” you mumble before moaning as he thrusts into you from below. he sits up and wraps his arms around your back, holding you close to his pale chest. his body is decorated in deep scars and old battle wounds. two distinct circle scars on his own neck indicating that he once was human.

“yn, i'm hungry.” he whispers as he eyes the flesh of your neck. he can feel and hear the blood pumping through your veins. he wants it. he wants a taste.

“do you want my wrist, hyun?”

“no. i want more.” you swallow and look at him. puppy dog eyes, those eyes you can't resist. he sticks his bottom lip out in a pout and whines softly. “please?”

“you know i can't say no when you look at me like that.” you mumble. hyunjin grins, his fangs showing. he stills his hips, allowing your warmth to pleasure him.

you tilt your head to the side, extending your neck as hyunjin holds onto the other with his hand. his cold yet oddly hot palm setting your own skin on fire. he brushes his lips against your flesh as he inhales your sickly sweet scent that he's been addicted to since day one.

he grazes his teeth along the skin. you hold your breath as his fangs scratch the surface. he gives your neck a soft and gentle kiss before his fangs penetrate the skin.

you whimper in pain. the stinging sensation tingling up your spine and to your fingertips. the air being knocked out off your lungs as you gasp. you grip onto hyunjin as you squeeze your eyes shut. hyunjin's penis twitches inside of you as he drinks your sweet nectar. every pool of blood coats his tongue in a sweet and savoury taste making him want more.

he's addicted and it's dangerous. he could easily drink you dry. with each passing second, you feel your blood leaving your veins. your head dizzy and lightheaded, eyes fluttering shut slowly as all your strength depletes from you.

hyunjin drinks and he drinks some more. his penis twitching and orgasm threatening to hit him. he groans, his grip on you tightening. more is all he thinks about. more more more more!!!

“h-hyun jin…” you choke out. he snaps out of it, pulling from your neck quickly. he cups your cheeks gently, blood coating his lips and the tips of his fangs.

“yn?! oh fuck! yn, are you ok?!”

“fine. i'm fine.” you say with a weak chuckle. hyunjin chews his lips, watching as you reach up and wipe away the blood from his lips.

“vampires are so messy.”

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 (𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍) | @bintificreads ; @oshimee ; @septicrebel ; @alyszaen ; @writerracha ; @hyunluvxo ; @aestheticsluut ; @xcookiemonsteer ; @lilquokka04

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bonkywobble · 2 years

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Kinktober ‘22 - Day 3

Day 3 - Free Use with Dark!Librarian!Steve Rogers

Pairing: Dark!Librarian!Steve Rogers x fem!reader

Word count: 611

Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ only): noncon/dubcon, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap peeps) implied kidnapping, implied confinement.

Disclaimer: Please heed the warnings - if this makes you uncomfortable then click away. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. I do not give anyone permission to take, repost, copy or translate my stories, regardless of whether or not they are credited. This blog and all works associated with it are 18+ only. Minors please do not interact or follow.

A/N: Day 3 Here we are! Divider by @firefly-graphics.

Kinktober ‘22 Masterlist / Librarian!Steve Rogers Masterlist

It was everything you’d ever read about: lilies and foxgloves akin to the ones mentioned in The Secret Garden hanging just outside the back door; siding and layout reminiscent of the March family home; and a private library even Sherlock Holmes himself would have had trouble not being envious of.

It was suppose to be a dream - specifically your dream - come true, except for the fact that it couldn’t be anything further from that. Instead, it's a nightmare born from a pure, lust-filled delusion, with you and your reading log being the prime sources of inspiration.

He finds you in the kitchen this time, the man who wishes for you to call him darling, honey, Stevie my love. You’ve been drying dishes for so long the tea towel begins to wear thin, the blue material repeating the same circular motion again and again. When he comes closer you move to the island, tucking the exceedingly clean cutlery away. You don’t acknowledge him.

His breath is hot against your neck and the pressing of his chest to your back sends shivers up your spine. “I got you something from your wish list, Bookworm.”

There’s a dense thud as a freshly printed copy of The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea is dropped beside you, narrowly missing your hand. It takes everything in you not to tense up at the sound.

You feel a tightening at the back of your neck, the grip firm and slightly calloused as the man who once made you smiley warmly with his wonderful book recommendations now pushes your face towards the cool marbled countertop, his other fingers slipping underneath your pleated skirt - one of many he makes you wear for his viewing pleasure - to tug your panties down. You can only try to ignore how they stick for a moment before he finishes pulling them to the ground.

Steve holds no such pretence, scoffing at the sight, “I knew you needed to thank me like this, just like how you knew I needed to come home to you and this sweet pussy you used to try to hide from me.”

You nod your false agreement. Attempting to fight it isn’t worth what could happen next instead of what usually follows. Unfortunately, you learned the hard way that Steven Rogers - once the world's sweetest librarian - is a hardened veteran who has yet to forget anything he’s learned during his military career. The basement door is locked to soothe you - the night terrors you experienced after the first and only sign of guilt you’ve ever seen your captor display.

When the head of his cock pushes past your wet folds there’s a collective sigh from you both, yours damningly headier than his. Your eyes unfocus for a few seconds, your gaze drifting briefly to the petal-filled backyard before his steady thrusts ground you permanently. Sometimes you wish he’d fuck you there just so you can feel the sun on your skin, feel like more than a part to play in the story of you and him.

Fingertips dig into the meat of your ass as he fucks into you without a care in the world. You hate it when he treats you like you’re special to him. Your disgust is momentary as his lips kiss promises into your skin, your neck being slowly covered with teeth marks and precious nothings. Involuntarily your hips push back and seek your pleasure for you.

You hate how you hate it less and less.

Steve's thrusts grow more frenetic. "Good thing you know better now. My fantasy is your fantasy, Bookworm. And that'll never fucking change."

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #and librarian!Steve Rogers is back #librarian!steve rogers #kinktober 22 #kinktober 2022 #bonkywobble writes

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cruelsuhmer · 2 years

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unraveling velvet

This is a repost of one of the fics from my previous blog. I am the original author of this fic and thus have full permission to post it here. Minor revisions have been made.

word count: 2.9k

pairings: jaehyun x reader

genre & au: angst w/ a happy ending, university au

warnings: none

a/n: originally for @/flirtyhyuck (now deactivated). inspired by mitski’s “lonesome love” and “washing machine heart.” the title sounds kind of smutty, but this fic is rated g, i prommy.

You don’t expect to see Jaehyun much after a chance encounter on the roof, but he’s everywhere, and it’s not long before all you can think about is him: his smile, his eyes, his dimples, and the way a simple hello from him feels like velvet against your ears.

For you, Jung Jaehyun is becoming a problem—a very big, very beautiful one.

“You know, they usually lock the doors here.”

The voice startles you, your shoes scraping across the tiles of the roof, producing an ungodly noise that breaks the quiet of the night more than the voice ever could. You look over to see Jung Jaehyun, moonlight illuminating his profile, a silver halo around his head and starlight in his hair. Your breath catches.

Jaehyun continues, “Surprised they left it unlocked tonight.”

After your embarrassing scramble, you tuck your legs against your chest, crossing your arms over your knees. “Really?” Jaehyun nods, and you look out across campus, seeing a lone night jogger crossing the street and two friends stumbling across the commons. “Safety reasons?”

Jaehyun laughs, shrugging. “More or less. Ghosts, too.”

Your legs tense, and your nails dig into the tiles. Jaehyun gives another chuckle, and you turn to glare at him. Relaxed, he’s stretched back, arms out behind him, a smile on his lips. He looks over to you, a slight tilt of the head. When you speak, your voice shakes. “What do you mean?”

“What else can I mean?” Jaehyun lifts his chin, eyes on the stars. “Apparently it happened back in the ‘70s. I don’t know. A senior hasn’t told you this already?”

You shake your head.

Jaehyun sighs. “Let me think. I’ve heard the full thing, just been awhile.”

You nod, and a minute passes of you staring at Jaehyun with wide eyes, heart pounding in your chest, him humming quietly to himself as he tries to remember the full story.

After another few seconds, he sits up, angling himself so he can look at you properly. You readjust, too, getting as comfortable as you can, knowing the story you’re about to hear won’t be a happy one. Jaehyun smiles before he begins, like that’ll help—it only makes you feel sick, an explosion in your chest. When he tells the story, he leaves in all the gory details, and after an explicit description on the student’s mangled fingers, you’re starting to wonder if he’s adding to the lore himself. Despite this, you find yourself enthralled. The night passes quickly after that, and when you realize the time, you’re rushing to head back inside the dorm, class in less than an hour.

You don’t expect to see Jaehyun much after that, him a year above you and the night on the roof a chance encounter, with you stressed about upcoming midterms and Jaehyun apparently one to frequent the roof. But you do see him. Often.

You see him on your way to class, you see him in the cafeteria, in the library, in the computer lab—you even see him in one of your block courses, though you’ve never noticed him before (and that was the hardest part to believe, especially now, with the way your eyes are drawn to him like clockwork).

And every time you look, he looks too, greeting you with a bright smile on his face, dimples ever so charming. It almost makes you dislike him. The reality, however, is that he quickly becomes the only thing on your mind, midterms a mere worry shoved to the back, completely covered by thoughts of his smile, his eyes, his dimples, and the way a simple hello from him feels like velvet against your ears.

It gets to the point of an intervention. On your way out of a Jaehyun-less class, the professor calls your name. You about-face, brows raised in a silent question, and your professor smiles, polite.

“Are you alright?” she asks, reaching out to place a gentle hand on your forearm.

You fight the urge to shrug it off.

“You seem distracted,” she continues.

You realize then that Jung Jaehyun is becoming a problem—a very big, very beautiful one.

When Tuesday rolls around, you stride into your block course—a power-walk if your classmates have ever seen one—barely giving your professor a nod before your eyes lock on Jaehyun. Like every other time, he’s already looking at you, and, like every other time, that dumb smile lights up his face. You come to a stop right in front of his desk.

“Hi,” he greets. His smile stretches the tiniest bit wider, making his dimples pop and his eyes disappear into crescents. The worst part is the new set of dimples that appear, like whiskers around his nose. They’re precious, and he looks precious, and despite your best efforts, your heart stutters in your chest. Great.

You glare for another second before pivoting and dropping your things on the desk next to his. Begrudgingly, you take a seat. “Hi,” you finally reply. Then, Dr. Han rises from his chair, turning on the projector and starting the class. The lesson is an important one—in fact, it will be on the final; Dr. Han takes great care in saying this, pausing every couple of equations to repeat it. Jaehyun never looks away from your face.

When class ends, you gather your things, the fight having left you, your drive to rid yourself of your Jaehyun-shaped problem gone without a trace, but Jaehyun stops you with a hand on your wrist. You look down, and he immediately lets go, an apology falling from his lips.

“Sorry,” he says again, “I was just wondering,” and a smile, smaller this time, makes a brief appearance on his face, “if you’d maybe want to get coffee or something. Tomorrow. With me?”

You have classes most of tomorrow. You really don’t have time. You need to water your dog and walk your plants. You should tell him this.

“Sounds good,” you say instead.

Jaehyun’s eyes widen like he expected you to say no—and you blanch at the memory of your attitude at the start of class; if he had asked then, you would have said no—before he smiles, dimples flashing. “Great. Is two okay?”

You have a class at two.

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

Jaehyun’s smile only grows, and you find yourself smiling back, even as unease settles low in your stomach. “That’s really great.” When Jaehyun’s tongue swipes just barely at his lower lip, your eyes take in the movement like a man starved. “Meet outside the dorm?”

You nod, and your smile stays for another second, before you turn to go, ducking your head at Jaehyun’s delayed great, and you’re about to leave, finally, when Jaehyun makes a small noise.

“Wait.”

You freeze, then turn back around. In an outstretched hand, Jaehyun holds your pencil case.

“It fell out of your bag,” he says, lips curled at the corners. “Probably not good to lose.”

“No,” you reply, “it’s not.” When you take it, your fingers brush his. The air conditioning has started; goosebumps spread on your skin. You look at him from under your lashes. He’s already looking at you. You snatch your hand back, deciding to just hold onto the case rather than putting it up. A stuttered thanks falls from your lips before you finally spin precariously on your heel and hurry to your next class.

Tomorrow comes before you’re ready, and you find yourself rushing across the commons with your backpack hitting you uncomfortably in your lower back, a steady thump, thump, thump that will ache for the days. You keep moving.

Until you see Jaehyun. Your heels dig into the soft earth and your backpack makes one final jab into you. The pain doesn’t register. Jaehyun’s head is tossed back, laughter bubbling from his lips, while his arm wraps tighter around a stranger’s shoulders. He doesn’t see you. His laugh follows you on the way to class, where you scroll through your phone before realizing you never got his number. You pocket your phone and think about your 2pm. He doesn’t have your number either. You’ve never skipped a class before. It’d be dumb to start now.

Thursday, you return to your usual seat. It doesn’t take long before you feel Jaehyun’s gaze weighing on you. You don’t look back, even when minutes pass and he hasn’t turned away. Class ends, and he still hasn’t let up, so you make a quick escape, slipping through the door before he can reach you. By the time you collapse into your seat two buildings over, your chest is tight, exertion and want putting a strain on you—want, especially.

It’s your own fault—you could have gone to the cafe, you could have talked to him—but you arrange your pencil and pens and highlighters on your desk and you keep your head down and you ignore the ache that’s replaced the heartburn. Most of all, you ignore any and all thoughts of Jaehyun, just like you did to the man himself.

The end of the semester has given up on creeping towards you, opting instead for a full-blown sprint, yet the only thing that has changed are the trees, leaves scattered on the ground for you to kick at and crush. Jaehyun’s heavy gaze is a constant companion, following you wherever you go. Sometimes you slip up and search him out too, as if by instinct, but whenever you happen to catch his eyes, you’re quick to look elsewhere.

Despite these looks, despite the crushing pressure of Jaehyun’s stare, the two of you leave words unsaid. After a week of failed attempts to talk to you following the abandoned coffee date, Jaehyun hasn’t tried to stop you from leaving since. You can’t say you prefer it that way, but it’s better than swallowing your pride and the jumbled ball of feelings that Jaehyun has created in you and facing him, but this acceptance only lasts for so long. Soon, you’re overwhelmed, finals no longer looming over you because they have instead taken you into their claws and are about to swallow you whole. You escape to the roof.

Someone else has escaped there, too.

“Jaehyun,” you breathe. In your stress, you had forgotten his habit, and now Jaehyun is staring you right in the eyes, and you can’t look away. He cuts a lonely figure against the night sky, hair once again threaded with stars. Your fingers twitch at your sides.

“Y/N,” he says. “Hi.”

You make your slow way over to him, unsure how close to sit. You clutch at the tiles. “Hi,” you reply. “It’s been awhile.”

Jaehyun hums, turning back to the sky. You bite your tongue. Your teeth clamp down too tight, but you don’t let up. Jaehyun glances over at you, and you let go. “Exams,” you say.

He tilts his head.

“Good luck.” You look away, out at the sky then down towards the commons. Someone is out there alone, their laptop giving their face a bluish glow. You swallow. “I’m nervous.”

Besides you, Jaehyun huffs out a laugh. You look over. “Me too,” he says.

There’s a second, then, where you see beyond this moment and beyond yourself, and, for that one second, the mess inside you sorts itself into something coherent, but it’s gone in a flash, and all you can do then is bump your shoulder against his. “You’re smart,” you say. “You’ll do fine.”

“Keeping tabs on me?” he asks. A smile curls on his lips and he makes it look so easy.

You duck your head. “Not that hard to find out you’re seen as the smartest student on campus. Not hard to realize it’s true.”

Jaehyun hums, looking down, and, if it weren’t so dark, you’d have noticed the redness of his ears, but you don’t. “Ah,” he gives a soft laugh, “I wouldn’t say that.”

“Don’t act shy,” you nudge him again. “It’s not a good look on you.”

The conversation continues, and it actually is easy. You unravel next to Jaehyun, slipping further down the roof, reclining back more and more, tension leaving your body with every word. Jaehyun’s a warm presence at your side, and you swathe yourself in the velvet of his voice. The bitter cold that snaps at your nose is nothing. You close your eyes and smile. It isn’t until the dark gets a bit darker that your eyes snap open and you realize the sun has started to creep over the horizon. Blocking your view, Jaehyun’s arm hovers awkwardly in the air. It falls back to the roof. You look over at him.

“About what I said earlier,” he starts, and you can feel the calm drain from your body.

“What,” you ask, “did you say earlier?” You push yourself up, scooting back up the roof until you can properly meet his eyes.

“I’m not the smartest student on campus,” Jaehyun says. “There’s just something—some things, really—that I can’t figure out.” He looks away first, and the crisp light of morning seems to take the color from his body. You shiver and wrap your arms around yourself.

“It might be an exaggeration,” you blink, gaze dropping to your lap, “but it’s not like you’re not smart.” You glance over to see Jaehyun shaking his head, looking out at the horizon. You swallow, squeezing your eyes shut. “Okay,” you try again, tilting your head, “what’s the thing that you can’t figure out?”

Jaehyun smiles, but you don’t feel better at all. “You didn’t show up for coffee,” he says. “I waited an hour for you, by the way. But you never showed.”

There’s a lot of things you could say. You work your lip between your teeth before you answer, “My 2pm is an hour and fifteen minutes.”

It’s grim, the face Jaehyun makes, lips pressed into a straight line and eyes narrowed. He nods, propping an arm up on his knees. “Fair enough.” He takes a breath. “Can I ask why?”

You don’t reply. Jaehyun turns to you. Still, you are quiet. Another heartbeat passes. Jaehyun waits, studying you. Even with the light of the sun, his eyes are unreadable. You huff. You want to snark about attendance being mandatory and how your grades aren’t good enough in that class for you to be risking it, but Jaehyun is stubborn and can play the game. You know that. You give another rough exhale before speaking. “I saw you that morning.”

Jaehyun continues to wait.

“Don’t laugh,” you say, but you don’t give him time to promise he won’t. “I saw you with someone.”

Jaehyun’s brows disappear into his hairline. His lips twitch. “With someone,” he echoes. You bite your lip. His eyes flit to the library. You hold your breath. “Okay.”

Your stomach churns. “You’re making fun of me,” you say. You can see the glint in his eyes now, and it makes you sick, in a way you haven’t felt in awhile. It’s pure bubbles, threatening to burst from your throat in the form of sweet words and whispered confessions. You swallow it down.

“No,” Jaehyun replies, but the word is colored with a laugh. Still, Jaehyun continues: “I’m not. I just… think it’s funny.” He turns to you, then, one foot out to stop him from slipping. His gaze presses into yours. “There isn’t anyone,” he swears. “There hasn’t been. You just… should have said something, alright?” He shakes his head. “After, I mean. I can take being stood up once or twice, but being totally ignored? Ouch.”

A lump has grown in your throat. Saying you don’t have his number will mean nothing. You look away, head dropping.

“I could’ve waited,” Jaehyun continues, “or we could’ve picked a different day. And don’t skip class for me.” When your mouth opens to argue, Jaehyun’s lips stretch, leaving his dimples to indent his face. “You would’ve.”

You look away.

“So give me a time,” Jaehyun finally proposes. “One that works for you. When you don’t have class—or a final, now.”

“I didn’t want to stand you up,” you admit. Jaehyun’s lips twist. You chew your own before deciding. “My first final is tomorrow. When it’s over, I won’t want to think about it at all. It ends at one.”

When you look over, Jaehyun’s smiling, a proper one, illuminating his face quicker than the sun ever could. You smile back. Jaehyun turns away. “Alright.”

You hesitate, but it’s more out of courtesy over anything. When you poke Jaehyun’s shoulder, he looks back at you. You stumble towards him. In the fall, your lips meet his. It’s not the best first kiss, your mouth having gone stale and his teeth clacking against yours, but—your heart squeezes in your chest—it’s not like this kiss will also be the last. You pull away. “I wouldn’t skip a final for you,” you say, “just… by the way. Maybe class—which I didn’t—but not a final.”

Jaehyun’s laugh is vibrant. His hand is warm against your back, where it had slipped just slightly beneath your sweater. “Of course,” he says. “Of course.”

The smile that’s threatened to blossom on your face finally blooms, and you duck your head, tucking it against Jaehyun’s shoulder. You plan to sit back up, maybe even get in another kiss, but Jaehyun’s fingers have started to thread through your hair, and your body finally feels the strain of twenty-four hours awake. You yawn. Jaehyun’s chuckle vibrates through you. It’s a comforting rumble. You fall further into him, and he lets you—sleep comes easy.

DISCLAIMER:

This is a work of fiction. The characters herein are based on real people, but the events portrayed in this story are fictional and do not reflect on the actual people written about. They are not intended to be mistaken for fact, and no libel is intended.

If you enjoyed this story, please consider giving it a reblog!

#jaehyun x reader #nct fanfic #nct oneshots #nct 127 oneshots #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct 127 imagines #nct jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jung jaehyun x reader #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun au #my writing

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finnpeach · 6 months

Note

Dude kneel was my favorite fic on the face of the earth. If you don’t want anything to do with it it totally respect that but I hope someday you’ll rewrite or repost it. I read it so much I nearly had it memorized

Hey do you wanna get married or something? Because this is the best compliment ever and I never stopped thinking about it. Sorry, I know you sent me this months ago but I finally got the motivation to dig through my docs and hit copy and paste. FIND KNEEL BELOW! JUST FOR YOU!

Kneel

Please enjoy my fleabag-inspired Vashwood AU, where Wolfwood is a disillusioned priest with the kink and Vash is a secret angel. Something about having a cold tears down his defences that he’s not just a normal human, and Wolfwood starts to catch on.

The church is remarkably cold today, Wolfwood thinks, as he walks towards the pulpit. The air has a chilly bite to it and sends a shiver down his spine. He will have to ask Milly to distribute blankets to the parishioners for the next time, lest they start getting complaints.

Fifty pairs of eyes follow him from the pews, holding their stare as the entrance song rings across the stone walls. Nobody is excited to see him delivering the mass today.

“Father Wolfwood? He’s all right, a bit rough around the edges. He seems dissuaded by the spirit these days. Maybe he needs to go on a religious sabbatical.”

It is true that he has been a bit, well, bored, lately. He delivers the same Mass every Sunday. Receives the same sort of confessionals every day. Baptises the same type of wriggling babies. Attends the same standard of funerals. He has completely lost his motivation, his provocation, for the spirit. Maybe he is in the wrong line of work.

His black robe sweeps around his ankles. Were it not for the organ and the singing, he would hear it, swish swish swishing beneath him like its own prayer.

The entrance song comes to a close as he places his bible on the pulpit. He prefers his own, rather than the church’s large scripture. He can make notes this way and scribble drawings of a burning bush, or a ridiculously large boat with two of every animal.

With careless fingers, he opens the bible and clears his throat. His earthy brown eyes lazily scan the crowd, the forthcoming speech stirring in his mind like old bones coming to life.

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” Wolfwood’s voice echoes throughout the church. He opens his palms towards the ceiling, as he always does.

“Amen,” the church replies.

Wolfwood delivers the greeting speech with practised boredom. He wishes something would happen. Please God, if you are even out there, save me from this mundanity.

His tongue forms the final words. “The Lord be with you.”

“And also with you,” comes the echo of the crowd.

“Please be seated.” Wolfwood nearly yawns. He closes his eyes, feigning spiritual enlightenment.

“And also with you.” One singular voice breaks the silence within the church.

Wolfwood’s eyes shoot open. He hadn’t expected his joke of a prayer, to be saved from this mundanity, to be answered so soon. Forty nine other pairs of eyes turn to see who has just spoken up.

He pinpoints him immediately. Spikey blonde hair. Undercut. His cheeks are pink with embarrassment. His nose, too. Tall, red coat. Glasses. Sheepishly grinning and sitting down to escape everyone’s gaze.

Also an idiot, apparently.

Wolfwood has never seen him here before. A surprised smile twitches at the corner of his lips, taken aback, the sluggish boredom replaced with renewed vigour.

He continues with the rest of the sermon, his heart suddenly beating in tandem with the rhythm of his words. Something about this blonde man’s eyes watching him (they’re blue, even from behind the pulpit, Wolfwood can see that they shine like sapphires) lights a fire in him. He has not felt like this since he first started studying scripture.

At some point, towards the end of Mass, he hears someone sniffling. Thick, wet sniffs that punctuate the silence around his speech. This was to be expected, though, considering how cold the church is. Wolfwood is not able to tell who it is until his eyes land, once again, on the blonde stranger.

He is the one sniffling. His nose is pink, like an English rose, and he keeps rubbing at it. He should just blow his nose and get it all over with.

Considering the sniffling, it was also only a matter of time until the sneezing commenced.

“...all the glory and honour is yours, forever and ever,” Wolfwood concludes.

“Amen,” the crowd replies.

“H’ihZTSHsHh’UE!”

The sneeze echoes off the stone walls of the church. Luckily, the organist begins playing, muffling the sound of the next sharp, wet sneeze.

“-- eh’TDhSHhh’ieW!”

Wolfwood searches the parishioners to see where the sneezes came from. The likeliest suspect is the same spikey, sniffly stranger from earlier, and Wolfwood is correct in his assumption.

Warm, liquid heat fills his veins like syrup. The man is bent forward in the pew with elbows on his knees. He tends to his dripping nose with a pathetic piece of tissue and looks absolutely miserable. Does he have a cold? Why is Wolfwood’s heart beating so fast, just from looking at him? It is as though he is looking at an angel, something holy, even though the man is just suffering through a cold. Maybe Wolfwood should–

“Father? Wolfwood?” Milly’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts. The young woman is standing next to him with the box of wafers and wine in her hand.

“Are you okay? I’ve been trying to get your attention. We’re ready to start the communion rite.”

“Ah.” Wolfwood shakes his head, hoping it will rid his mind of the man’s pink nose. He needs to focus. “Right. Sorry. Let’s go.”

He takes the box of wafers from her hand, or the body of Christ. How can Christ’s body be in these pathetic little wafers? He should at least be in a 12 ounce wagyu steak, that would be more fitting. Wolfwood thinks. He does not suppose the church could write off wagyu beef for expenses, though.

He stands in front of the pulpit as people begin to line up to receive the body and blood of Christ. Milly pours the wine while Wolfwood hands them the wafers with practised apathy. The Body of Christ, Amen. The Body of Christ, Amen. The Body of Christ–

His indifference is dispelled when the man in the red coat suddenly appears before him.

Wolfwood swallows. His throat is tight against his priest’s collar. They are probably the same height, yet the blonde appears a little shorter because he’s tucking his chin down slightly. The position allows him to gaze up at Wolfwood with sparkling blue eyes.

“Father,” the man says courteously, his tongue grazing against his bottom lip. It leaves his lips wet, similar to his nose, which, now that Wolfwood is closer, is actually an irritated shade of red.

Wolfwood ignores the shiver that electrifies his body as he repeats the word like a chant in his head. Father. Father. Father.

“The Body of Christ,” Wolfwood says, his tongue thick in his mouth as he raises the wafer.

“Amen,” the other replies softly, never once breaking eye contact.

He expects the blonde man to hold out his hand and take the wafer, like everyone else has, but instead he drops open his mouth slightly and allows his pink tongue to slide out of his mouth, resting against his pillowy bottom lip.

He continues to gaze up at Wolfwood expectantly.

Gritting his teeth, the priest places the wafer on the tip of the believer’s tongue. He feels like he is buzzing with electricity. The man lifts his tongue, slightly, so slightly, so that it touches the tip of Wolfwood’s finger as he places the wafer.

Shocked, Wolfwood draws his hand back as quickly as one does when they touch a hot stove. The moisture settles into his skin like venom.

Warmth stirs in his abdomen. The man draws his tongue back into his mouth, letting the wafer disintegrate on his tongue. He gives Wolfwood a small smile and a wink.

Wolfwood cannot seem to break eye contact with the stranger as he exits the line and the next parishioner steps forward. He has to remind himself to look away, to focus on the person in front of him.

He flexes his hand that had been touched by the man’s tongue and ignores the heat bubbling inside him. The priest readies the next wafer.

“The Body of Christ.”

“Amen,” the woman replies and holds out her hand.

***

After the service, Wolfwood walks behind the church to smoke. It is a quiet spot and overlooks the cemetery, and few parishioners tend to bother him back here.

That is, until today.

He lights the cigarette between his lips and leans his head back against the freezing stone wall. He lets his eyes slip shut as he battles with his own detachment for this place. At least it is quiet and peaceful out here–

“Hi.”

Wolfwood jolts at the sound, his heart ricocheting around his chest like a bullet. To his right is the blonde parishioner with the pink nose, the same from earlier. How did he know about his hiding spot?!

He bites his cigarette and glares at him as he tries to slow the hammering in his chest.

“Fucking hell, you almost gave me a heart attack! Do you just sneak up on everyone like that?!”

“Oh, sorry.” The stranger looks genuinely surprised and apologetic, and maybe a little shocked to hear a priest swearing. He gives Wolfwood a gentle smile, the kind that would make anyone trust him immediately. Wolfwood feels himself grow even more on edge.

“I thought you heard me coming. I just wanted to say that your service was really great.”

Wolfwood huffs a laugh. “Don’t usually get compliments like that these days. Thanks.”

The man cocks his head to the side and lifts an eyebrow. He looks a bit like a puppy tilting its head.

“Why not?”

“Mmm,” Wolfwoof hums. “It’s not important.” He waves his hand at him, as if to shake away the topic. “Anyway, is this your first time here, blondie?”

The man does not seem bothered by the nickname. In fact, it makes his smile grow.

“Yes, I just moved here. I volunteered a lot at my previous church and wanted to do the same here. I thought I’d come find you to ask about any help you may need.”

Wolfwood snorts. “Really? We usually only get delinquent kids that need community service time comin’ around here to help out.” He takes a long drag of his cigarette and angles the smoke away from the man.

“You got a name?”

“Vash.”

Vash. “Wolfwood. Nice to meet ya.” Wolfwood puts his cigarette between his lips and offers his hand, which Vash kindly refuses, holding his hands up to his chest with his palms facing the priest.

“Ahh, you probably don’t want to shake hands with me. I have a bit of a cold,” he says, grinning abashedly. “Sorry if my sneezing messed up your sermon today. I didn’t want to get anyone else sick, so I sat in the back.”

Yeah, so Vash could sneeze all over everyone in front of him? He really is a bit of a moron. But Wolfwood is lucky he was not sitting up front, sneezing as he was, otherwise he would have had a boner for the whole church to see.

“Hm. Are you an angel, or somethin’? Like actually.” Wolfwood tucks his chin forward and looks at him from over the rim of his glasses. This man is far too nice for his own good.

“What do you mean?” Vash has not stopped smiling since they started talking, and his smile has only stretched, as if he is surprised by being called an angel. The question clearly makes him nervous even though Wolfwood was just teasing.

“I mean – you’re sick as hell, and came to Mass just so you could ask about volunteering, and you’re at least considerate about being sick. What’s the catch? You hiding something?”

“N-no! I just like helping my community, thahh…”

Wolfwoof watches as Vash’s hands steeple over his nose, anticipating the inevitable. Fuck, stop staring.

But he cannot. Vash’s pretty blue eyes pinch shut and his golden eyelashes catch in the sun like a flame. His lips draw back over his teeth to reveal sharp canines as his pale hands rise up to tent his nose.

“H’ahDZSh’hue!-- huh.. h’uhDThSCH’ue!” He stays bent forward for a millisecond, eyes shut, as if expecting another. When a third does not come, he rights himself and looks at Wolfwood again with a sharp sniffle.

The priest watches as one of Vash’s pink, damp nostrils closes with the sniff but the other does not. Ah, so he’s congested.

Wolfwood cannot pinpoint it, but the atmosphere seems brighter, lighter, now. He could have sworn he saw a little golden halo of light flash around Vash’s head when he sneezed, but maybe the sun is just playing tricks on him.

Once again, the priest’s collar is tight around his throat as he swallows. He is suddenly grateful for the extra fabric in his robe and he just hopes that it is covering the emerging hard on.

“God bless you.”

“Snff!.. Thangks.” Vash smiles brightly again, like the blessing has just renewed him. Maybe he is just a religious weirdo. “Might be a while udntil I can volunteer, though.” He laughs a little and Wolfwood swears he hears wind chimes rustle on a nearby tree. Which is odd, because there is not a single breeze in the air.

“No kidding.” Wolfwood kicks his foot up against the wall of the church. “We don’t have anything going on yet, but we’ll do a winter clothing drive soon. Milly’s setting it up, though, so I’d talk to her.”

“A winter clothing drive… Perfect, I’ll go talk to her about it then. I also wondered—“ Vash steps closer so that they are only a foot apart. Wolfwood’s skin shivers as he comes closer, as if someone has just placed a cold hand on his back. The blonde lowers his voice even though they are alone.

“— is there someone I could talk to? I’ve been… I suppose, going through a difficult time, but—“

Wolfwood holds up his hand to stop him. “We offer confessionals and counselling sessions at specified times, and I’m on break right now.”

“Oh, I’m very sorry—“ His smile breaks for the first time. Did a cloud just cover the sun?

“But—” Wolfwood keeps his hand up but places his fingers down so only his index remains up. “You are welcome by my office at any time. Or in my hiding spot. If you bring a few beers, we can have a proper chat.”

Vash grins again, and suddenly the cloud passes. Light floods around them like a shining beacon. Wolfwood thinks it must be a coincidence.

“That would be great.”

“No wine coolers. I don’t drink that sissy shit.” Wolfwood puts his cigarette out on the stone wall of the church and pinches the butt between his fingers. Milly has told him off for cursing around the parishioners before, apparently it’s not very “professional”.

“Oh, so you’re a cool, swear-y priest, are you?” Vash’s voice is teasing, light, and airy. Wolfwood could have this back and forth for hours.

“All the best are.” Wolfwood cannot help but grin. Finally, some appreciation around here.

“Thank you, Father. I’ll come by sometime.” Vash gives him a small wave goodbye and walks away.

The last thing Wolfwood sees is the end of his red coat gliding around the corner. Why does he feel so good right now, after just a short conversation with Vash? Something inside him feels light again, as if he could walk on air and watch the world below.

Father, Father, Father.

***

Vash rounded the corner as calmly as he possibly could, until he was out of sight from Wolfwood. Then he broke out into a sprint and ran far and fast, away from the church and away from anyone who might have seen his drop in disguise. He probably looked quite insane, running in jeans and combat boots and a red coat, and many humans stopped to give him a strange look.

His legs carried him as far as a secluded park. His cold, this silly thing that humans caught and were weakened by, made it difficult for him to catch his breath,

That had been close. Too close, Nai would say, you’re going to compromise your true nature if you keep it up.

And to that, Vash would say, It’s okay! Why does it matter if they find out that we’re angels? Aren’t we supposed to be helping them, anyway? Maybe knowing who we are will help them understand!

Nai would roll his eyes, and he would either leave it at that, or lecture him on how helpless humans were, how exposing their true divinity would ruin the humans, how their entire world could be undone if he so much as stuck a wing out of line.

Deep down, Vash knew his brother was a little bit right, but he was a little bit wrong, too. Wolfwood understood, and he was not helpless.

He had been assigned to this particular priest by Nai. Another priest who’s lost his way, Vash. Just go down there and perform a few miracles and he’ll be back on track.

Most priests were not particularly beautiful, or fun to be around. They were often old, or too serious. But Wolfwood was a different story entirely. He was tall, and very handsome. He had had an interesting childhood, based on the report Nai had given him, and had lived in an orphanage for most of his life. According to his profile, he tends to be blasphemous, unruly, prideful, lazy, and even lustful. Vash, as his assigned angel, would have to set him on the path towards holy righteousness again.

It seemed he had become disillusioned with religion in the previous years, and needed divine intervention to get back on track. Easy enough. Vash would swoop in there, perform a few miracles, and then leave. It should be simple.

Except, it was not. Vash’s heart had hammered in his chest like a rabbit beneath a hawk’s shadow when he first laid eyes on Wolfwood. The priest’s robe was tight against his chest, the black and white collar wrapped around his throat, and a small silver cross hanging by a silver chain around his neck.

Despite his immediate attraction for the priest, the visit had still gone (somewhat) according to plan. Wolfwood sensed Vash’s presence and felt the spirit during his service, and as such, the Mass improved. At the end, he had heard snippets of other parishioners gossiping about how much better the service had been, how much more enigmatic Wolfwood had been.

The only hiccup was this cold. He had caught it in the days leading up to his visit with Wolfwood. It is unusual for angels to catch colds, but certainly not unheard of. Being on Earth, surrounded by unholiness and sin, made him more susceptible to illnesses. When Vash woke up the morning of his visit with an ache in his throat and a stuffiness in his sinuses, he was not the least bit surprised.

Now that he’s in the park, he can stretch out a bit. He wanders deeper into the woods until he arrives at a clearing. The hills extend for miles, with trees dotting the perimeter. No one will see, and if they do, he can just fly away.

Vash removes his coat and allows his wings to stretch out, a pleasurable shiver running down his spine as they extend from between his shoulder blades. Ah, much better.

He lays down in the grass and stares up at the sky. Wolfwood knew he was hiding something. He had even called him an angel.

The opportunity to think further about it is interrupted by the same spark in his sinuses as earlier. His nose scrunches in retaliation, lips drawing back over his teeth to reveal sharp canines, and he twists to the side.

“H’ddYZSHhue! ‘ihHTSCHhhyiewhh!” The contagious mist catches in the sunlight, a clear testament to how wet the sneezes were. He sniffles pathetically and rubs harshly at his nose with the heel of his hand.

That had been another thing Vash had noticed about Wolfwood’s lust. He liked this particular bodily sensation, and had paid special attention when Vash did it in the church. How funny, that he likes something so delicate and simple. Vash thinks.

The angel rolls back on his spine and sighs. He feels like he knows so much, yet so little at the same time.

***

Four days later, and the mundanity of his line of work has returned. Vash has not been seen in the church since the last Mass, and Wolfwood has to admit that he misses his presence.

This particular priest hates confessionals most of all. He is not interested in hearing about people’s sins, nor does he particularly care to comfort them, but it is sometimes interesting to hear the latest bit of church gossip. For example, when someone with a recognisable voice comes in and confesses they stole something from their neighbour, who also happens to be a church member, and now Wolfwood knows about the old lady thievery drama between Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Downy. Or, when a certain (Mrs. Downy, of course) hardly anonymous churchgoer confesses that she slept with a married man (Mr. Jones), and the wife (Mrs. Jones) doesn’t know. Those days are the most interesting.

He has a feeling, though, that today will be a slow day, full of people who actually want to confess their boring sins and feel better about themselves when he tells them they’re forgiven.

Beside him, the curtain swishes on the other confessional box as someone steps through it.

It begins. Wolfwood yawns. The confessional sits down.

Wolfwood continues slouching, bored. He tugs on his priest’s collar and hopes this will be done quickly. It only takes the sound of a familiar voice to suddenly make him sit upright and at attention.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

Blondie.

“It has been… um…” Vash trails off, and Wolfwood swears he can see him counting on his fingers through the screened partition. Seriously?

“It has been, um… Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever confessed, actually. So I guess that’s the first sin. But here are my sins.” He sniffles a couple times. Is something bothering his nose? Is he still sick?

Wolfwood’s throat is tight. What could this goody two shoes possibly have to confess about? Did he hug someone too hard and give them a bad back? Did he give some crying child an ice cream, and then that kid turned out to be diabetic?

“I’ve fallen in love. And it’s a bit unconventional.”

Wolfwood rolls his eyes. He gets about a hundred “I’m gay” confessionals every week. And he didn’t have to guess that Vash was, either.

This is a waste of a confessional. Though, maybe he’ll get some more intel on who Vash is in love with. Wolfwood was really hoping that he was single. Not that he should, though, since his like of work forbids it.

“Well, the Lord loves all his children, regardless of their preferences. Despite what you may have heard.” He leans his head against the wooden wall, aching for a cigarette. He really does not care to reassure people about their sexuality. A hole is a hole. What is even more annoying is the combination of these confessionals and finding out his new love interest is already in love with another.

Vash gives a small chuckle. “No, no, it’s not that. It’s unconventional because of his… line of work, I suppose.”

Wolfwood pauses. Line of work. “Could you elaborate?”

Vash is quiet for a moment. The silence hangs delicately in the air.

“He’s a priest.”

Something inside Wolfwood shatters like glass.

Wolfwoof says nothing for an instant. He hears Vash’s congested, snuffly breathing, which has started getting louder. Is he nervous?

“I’m sorry. That was stupid. Forget I said anything.”

Wolfwood stares at the floor ahead of him.

“Wolfwood? Are you there? Please say something.” His voice cracks, desperate.

Wolfwood closes his eyes and leans his head back. Some sort of feeling takes over him again, filling him with the same magnetic spirituality as it did in Mass when Vash had his eyes on him. He relinquishes himself.

“Kneel,” he says, softly. He should not be doing this.

“What?”

“Kneel.” He should not be doing this.

Wolfwood waits to hear Vash sink down to the floor before he rises from his seat. He silently slips out of his own side, then stands outside of Vash’s curtain for a beat. His heart hammers in his chest like a drum. Do not open the curtain. Do not open the curtain.

He tugs back the curtain and they meet each other’s gaze. Vash is kneeled on the floor, hands pathetically folded in his lap, eyes wet. His nose is still pink, a sure sign he has not shaken his cold yet. His eyes, fuck, his big blue eyes, look up at him so softly.

Vash staring up at him like this, like he is an answered prayer, makes him feel alive. Perhaps what he is about to do is acceptable in God’s eyes, if Vash is looking at him so religiously.

Wolfwood takes a knee and allows his hand to glide over Vash’s jaw, his thumb resting against the base of his ear. His skin is warm. Vash breathes through his mouth, lips slightly parted. His eyes search Wolfwood’s, darting from his lips, to his eyes, to his hand resting against his face. He looks angelic.

Vash is the first to break the spell, when he sees Wolfwood struggling too. He leans forward and kisses Wolfwood, careful at first, light. Much too cautious for Wolfwood’s taste. A match strikes within the priest at the taste of his lips and he deepens the pressure in turn.

He pulls Vash to his feet as their lips strike against each other. Pushing and pulling. It is all Wolfwood, at first, on the offence, with Vash pathetically accepting. At the feel of Wolfwood’s hand on his hip, his fingers digging into his skin, he presses forward, parrying each of Wolfwood’s kisses with his own.

They stop suddenly when Vash presses his hand to Wolfwood’s chest.

“Wait,” he says. He is breathing hard. “I still have a cold.”

“Like I give a fucking shit about that. Come here.”

Wolfwood is not going to stop now. He steps into the confessional box and closes the curtain behind them, then wraps his hands around the back of Vash’s thighs to pick him up. Vash yelps a bit in surprise but is quickly placated when he finds himself on Wolfwood’s lap, seated in the confessional booth.

“This… Kissing a priest, in a church. Won’t he get mad?” Vash asks between kisses. His hand is warm against Wolfwood’s neck, the other is knotted in his black hair.

“Who?” Shut up and just keep kissing me, he thinks. Vash’s lips taste like golden honey, and each time they drift away, Wolfwood is left wanting more.

“God.”

Wolfwood snickers. “What’re you, his secretary?”

Something about that causes Vash to pause, and he takes a second to come up with something clever to get Wolfwood off his trail.

“Aren’t you, technically?”

“Touché.” He presses a soft kiss to Vash’s lips. “If you don’t tell on me, I won’t tell on you. It’ll be our little secret.”

Wolfwood is growing harder with Vash in his lap, and the way he keeps pulling away to sniffle and rub at his nose is not helping. He is too far gone to care anymore. Each time he turns his head away, Wolfwood gives him a moment to recover before gripping his fingers in Vash’s blonde hair and tugging him back. He is impatient, restless. It is a combination of breaking his vows as a priest in the holiest place he could possibly break them, and the sensation of Vash sitting atop his cock.

His lips find Wolfwood’s neck and begin making deep, dark bruises above the collar. A gentle moan unwillingly escapes him at the sensation. He does not think it can get much better until Vash’s breath starts to hitch. His breath staggers against Wolfwood’s lips, and he almost mistakes it for pleasure, until Vash is pitching forward against Wolfwood’s shoulder, sneezing right against the collar of his robe.

“Hih’DHhSHHh’YUE!” The mist coats half of Wolfwood’s throat. He grits his teeth to avoid moaning.

“Suhh.. Sorry…” Vash breaths, then– “--eh’IDTSHhhyIEW!” His pink, twitching nose presses against the crook of Wolfwood’s neck again, and Wolfwood swears he saw a halo around his head again.

“What was that?”

“What?” Vash asks, leaning back to wipe at his nose with the side of his index finger.

“That thing you just did. The light. What was it? Where’d it go?”

Vash looks stunned. “I… I don’t–”

The sound of footsteps echoing against the tiled floor of the church causes them both to freeze. Wolfwood clamps his palm over Vash’s mouth, his other hand steadying the other’s lower back.

The other curtain draws back and someone steps in and sits down. Fuck.

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.”

Wolfwood stays silent, lost for words, until Vash pokes him in the ribs.

“Pl-please continue.” Wolfwood’s throat is as dry as sandpaper. Vash watches him like a hawk.

“It has been two years since my last confession. Since then I have lied, cheated on my wife, and…”

Wolfwood feels Vash’s lips part against his palm and his breath hitches. Oh, fuck no. He glares up at Vash and sees his nose twitching against the side of his fingers.

‘Don’t you dare.’ Wolfwood mouths, baring his teeth at him.

Vash shakes his head and pinches his eyes shut. His hands grab onto Wolfwood’s shoulders.

“... I have used drugs, and alcohol, and been blasphemous…”

Jesus, this guy needs to wrap it up. Wolfwood can only focus on Vash right now, the way he feels against his cock, how he so desperately needs to sneeze.

The man keeps droning on and Wolfwood feels like he is in hell. He presses his hand tighter around Vash’s mouth. If this guy catches them, he is definitely going to lose his job.

“H’ih…”

‘Blondie!’ Wolfwood mouths, but it is useless. He removes his hand from Vash’s mouth and wraps it around the back of Vash’s head, tugging him forward just as Vash’s chest expands one last time.

“Heh’idZSHhh’yue!” Wolfwood presses Vash’s face against the crook of his neck, but not quickly enough to muffle the first sneeze. They echo around the confession box and the church.

“ih-CHSHhh’ue! ihGKTSHhhIEW!” Each sneeze bursts a mist of successive spray against Wolfwood’s neck. This, he thinks, must be some sort of baptism.

Once Vash has finally stopped sneezing, he rests his forehead against Wolfwood’s shoulder and sniffles thickly, making little congested sounds that do not help their situation.

“Uh… Bless you, Father Wolfwood,” the man says, pausing his confession. Wolfwood is about to open his mouth, deliver the prayer of Absolution and get him out of here, when Vash decides to speak up instead.

“Thank you!” Vash chirps, and his stupid voice is so remarkably different from Wolfwood’s that the man goes silent. If Wolfwood could see the man, he’d imagine that his jaw would be hanging open.

Wolfwood will beat Vash’s ass later, most certainly. For now, he just wraps his hand around Vash’s jaw to shut him up before turning back to the confessionary.

“Apologies, I caught a cold and my voice is going. God, the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son…”

He finishes the prayer of Absolution and sends the man on his way. When he’s gone, Wolfwood all but kicks Vash out of the confessional booth.

“‘Thank you’?!”

“He blessed me!” Vash rubs his ass as he stands up. Ouch, the church tiles are painful to land on.

“No, he blessed me, you dumbass. You’re lucky he’s only marginally dumber than you so he won’t tell the whole church I was fucking the blonde in the confessional box!”

“I’m sorry, I had to sneeze,” Vash whines as he dusts off his jeans. He stares at Wolfwood with those big, dumb, blue puppy eyes again, and it makes Wolfwood groan and pinch the bridge of his nose.

“I’m going to hell. Get out of my church.” He is too mad to remember the golden ring of light around Vash’s head when he sneezed. He just wants Vash out of here so he can forget this ever happened.

“I’ll be in Mass tomorrow.”

“Oh, no, you are never allowed in here again.” Wolfwood shakes his head at him and points towards the door.

“Why not?”

“Because–” I’ll fall in love with you, I’ll break my faith, I’ll do worse things to you than just kiss you in a confessional booth. “Because. Just go.”

Vash gives him a parting look, as if he has something he wants to say, but he says nothing. He just nods and sulks out of the church.

Unfortunately everything seems a bit dimmer once he is gone. Wolfwood sighs and rubs the back of his neck as he walks toward his office, feeling listless again. Somehow, though, he knows deep in his heart that Vash will come back, and they will both make the same mistake all over again.

#my writing #hope that was the right tag for it #ok time to go rewatch fleabag

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keiffeine · 1 year

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so ahahhsjahehahhe about the nsfw scara reqs 👉👈 may I get scara (subby if that's possible hehe) with a male reader who's known him since he was kuni, has cared and still cares about him deeply despite everything that's happened n has managed to have such a close bond to him that their relationship kinda turned into a,,,, friends with benefits kind of thing <3 js some really fluffy smut about the reader having so many pent up feelings that he confesses to scara in a,, different way

(take your time with this one! I really love your works and writing style a LOT and was pretty nervous about requesting this,, but you're an amazing writer and are doing great! <3 I hope ur having a wonderful day!!)

with male reader.

genre: fwb, fluff, nsfw.

a/n: i sort of wrote a lot for this. like, there’s basically a whole mini fic. i hope you don’t mind, this req was really good and it made me inspired. (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ i hope this is to your liking.

• there was nothing about scaramouche you couldn’t love. he was just so beautiful, like he was truly sent from heaven with a radiant glow to him. he was hard to resist, but you were afraid to ruin what you already had.

• you’ve been there with him since quite literally forever, when he was still kunikuzushi. you’d been the only one thus far who had stayed, and sometimes scaramouche would tell you that you would still be the one who would stay with him until the end.

• you didn’t quite know when you started to develop such a strong affection towards him, but at some point, your attraction floated in the grey area of simply admiring him as a friend and wanting a relationship that was beyond friends.

• scaramouche made your heart swell, and it was so often that you thought your heart might literally explode out of your chest. you just needed him to know, to make him understand that you needed him as much as he needed you.

• with each passing day, the thought of this grew stronger and stronger and—

• one day you just kissed him, and with no given thought. it was sudden, fleeting, and impulsive.

• for a split second, you thought you ruined everything. this crossed the line. but—he kissed you back, pressing further into you and opening his mouth to welcome it.

• this was how your relationship escalated—you weren’t together together, but you weren’t only just friends. for a while, you just simply were.

• it gradually started from slow and gentle kisses to your bodies exposed under the stars, hips rolling into each other as you called each other’s names with a sense of strong desire behind it.

• in moments like these, scaramouche was the most beautiful. he would stare up at you with glittering eyes, rosy lips calling for you to “move faster” and “that he needs you so bad” as his nails would scratch into your back.

• sometimes, the urgency to say those four simple words—“i love you, scara”—would be on the edge of your tongue, but you could never bring yourself to say it.

๑՞.

“fuck—y/n, please,” scaramouche moans, eyes fluttering closed and back arching off the bed, hands searching for purchase all over your body and digging his nails anywhere he can grab hold. you can feel him trembling beneath you as you keep thrusting into him, pressing your cock against his prostate.

“i know, baby…feels good, yeah?” you murmur, squeezing the flesh of his hips and latching your lips to his neck, sucking on his skin there. you felt warm all over, every inch of your body tingling.

“kiss me—please…nngh…” he begs, cupping your face and bringing you down to his lips. you rolled your hips into him again, drawing another whine out of scaramouche as you kissed.

you loved this—you loved him so much. would it really be so wrong to confess that, right now? did you want to take that risk of ruining what you had? just to find out if he felt the same way, too.

you kept moving, bringing scaramouche to his release first before your own. as you finished, slowly coming down from both of your highs, you hesitantly kissed him again, the words on the tip of your tongue.

“scara, i…” you swallowed thickly, voice wavering slightly. “i love you,” you murmured against his lips. you moved away from him slowly, not daring to look at his eyes. you were scared.

“what?” scaramouche asks.

“i said i love you,” you repeat, feeling warmth rising to your cheeks. “i’ve loved you for—for ages now. i felt like i should tell you.”

silence. it was quiet; so quiet you can just hear the intense beating of your heart.

you spoke after a beat, “of course, if you don’t feel the same it’s fine—i just don’t want to lose you—”

“i love you, too,” scaramouche interrupted, his words ringing in your head. you turned, to finally look at him. he’d pushed himself to sit up on the bed, eyes looking at you carefully and intently. scaramouche inched closer to you, cupping your face again. “i love you, too,” he says again, “so much.”

there it goes—your heart was swelling again. you felt yourself smiling, and you couldn’t help but bring him into another kiss.

genshin masterlist

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#💌.requests #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x reader headcanons #genshin impact x reader scenarios #genshin x reader headcanons #genshin x reader scenarios #genshin headcanons #genshin scenarios #genshin smut #genshin fluff #scaramouche x reader

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burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 9 months

Note

Omg I’m so happy you replied!! I definitely have more questions.

1. What Cillian character do you like writing about the most and why?

2. What story from your master list are you most proud of?

3. Do you personally have any fic recommendations/ must reads? Other sites included.

4. What gets you inspired to write? Following that question have you ever abandoned a fic?

5. What do you think made you a better writer? If you have any doubts about your work, how do you get past it enough to continue?

6. Is there a Cillian character that you just don’t like, or aren’t interested in watching/ writing about? (Sorry if that’s a loaded question)

omg thank u so much for this!!! i srsly love interacting w u guys, tysm for the thought provoking questions😄🙌

i think i like writing most about robert fischer:) ik it probably doesnt translate considering ive written most for jonathan crane but robert fischer is just such a little sweetheart to me,,, and can go both ways in being a sassy dom douchebag or being a sobbing daddy issues sub darling LOLLL i just think he has a lot of duality to delve into and develop (which ive definitely not done so far☠️) and it helps that his characterization in inception was also very surface level— i have a lot of wiggle room y’know??

i think im most proud of “dine & dash” which im aware probably no-one has read, but getting chris o’doyle’s sassy little dialogue down was like taming a wild beast,,, otherwise, considering my more well-known work, i rly liked writing “honey, i’m home”. i go crazy for the unhinged readers (if u couldnt alrdy tell lmaooo) and seeing jackson get messed with like that was a real treat.

i seriously just recommend anything by @mypoisonedvine,,, they’re literally genius & are the reason i started writing for cillian:)!! other mentions include kitten fics by @pictureinme and, a personal fave, @floralcyanidee’s jackson rippner mile-high club fic!!! these writers are all incredibly talented and im just blown away at their work every single time🫶

my thirst is such a big motivator for writing LMAO😭i wrote “guinea pig” ‘cus i wanted to absolute wreckkk jonathan crane and have him be a sub, and i got a 6.8k words long fic out of said thirst! music & book quotes motivate me a lot too— i spend sm time digging thru my pinterest for a good quote for the beginning of my fic its actually insane☠️and yes,,, im ashamed to say ive abandoned fics numerous times,,, but thats because they were series’, not oneshots. i get bored of series’ pretty quickly, ‘cause i feel kind of trapped by the initial dynamic or mood set in the first chapter. with oneshots, its like writing one long chapter of this trope and this kink or whatever and then its done, and i dont have to exhaust myself going back to tropes or kinks or storylines ive already done.

i think reading made me a better writer. expanding my vocabulary through the words of others was a biggie; seeing something be described in a certain way in someones story had me thinking of out-of-the-box ways to describe another thing (that doesn’t make much sense but lets pretend it does😭). i have many, many doubts about my work, like constantly, but i usually just suck it up. i sound like an attention whore but seeing the reposts & comments & tags on my other work reminds me people like what i’ve written before and certain people will enjoy what ive written now, so i should just finish my work for them. i also take like 100 years rereading my stuff until i think its good enough lmao,,,

ive kinda watched his whole roster of films (atleast ones i could actually find on the internet and not gone missing as a lost piece of media lmao) and i could probably write for any cillian character given i had a good idea and proper motivation. writing for certain characters is definitely harder for me to do though, so its likely i wont write for them/will take a long time to do so. an example is lenny miller— anna was such an insufferable movie to me, and lenny’s screentime wasn’t long at all, atleast not long enough for me to properly grasp his character. he just felt like a horny hardass fbi goof the whole time i could not take his 5’7 ass seriously😭cillian is smexy as hell in anna tho, so we’ll see😈another would probably be robert capa from sunshine,,, hes beautiful and deliciously musty in that but the whole spaceship setting kinda freaks me out (considering i know 0 zilch nada about space, spaceships, or anything of the sort, so it’d definitely be inaccurate). an au with him id definitely do, though! (with that hair of his my mind is already forming a 90s band au, guitarist!capa x singer!reader story…)

again thank u so much for these questions!! i feel like i rarely get to chat to u guys so this was well appreciated😄🫶thank you so much for reading, for sending these questions in, and for being an overall sweetheart, anon!

#burnyouwithacigarettelighter #long post

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chervbs · 1 year

Text

loverboy — e. munson

pairings: eddie munson x jade west!reader

word count: 1k

synopsis: your new boyfriend eddie seems to be allergic to studying and is insistent on taking a break. thankfully, you have the perfect way to pass the time. part two to i was made for loving you!

warnings: fem!reader, jade west is not meant to be an oc/faceclaim just inspiration for the readers personality, short little piece about the new relationship, is a continuation of the fic linked above but can be read as a standalone, reader is a little softer now that eddie is her man, eddie is a massive simp.

a/n: this was posted as a blurb WEEKS AGO but it got lost in the tags so I’m reposting :)))) the anon who requested this asked for reader to sing a song from the heathers musical but since reader is playing rizzo in grease I chose a different song because I like for my fics to be historically accurate. once again send in any jade west!reader requests you have. pls don't let this flop for a second time <3

navigation

“C’mon, sweetheart!”

Eddie whined once again for what seemed like the millionth time in the past hour. You’d been insistent on helping him study, not wanting to graduate without your now boyfriend. He didn’t even make it a whole hour of studying before he started to complain.

“Eddie-“ You cut yourself off, brows furrowing. “Sweetheart? Really?”

The metal head shrugged, a sheepish smile spreading across his lips. “What? I’m still trying to find the perfect pet name for you.”

The little scrunch of your nose was subtle, but to Eddie it was heartwarming. Just knowing that there was a softer side to you that only he ever got to witness made him awfully special. “Yeah, but sweetheart? Kind of ironic isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie replied coyly, taking a chance and gently grabbing your chin in his hands. As dominant as your personality was, you did occasionally let your guard down enough to melt into his touch. “I think you’re a sweetheart, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes lightheartedly, grabbing his wrist and using it to pull him towards you. Eddie let out a little yelp before his lips met yours, the noise turning into a muffled one of content.

The kiss didn’t last long, much to Eddie’s dismay. He whined a little, huffing like a child when you pulled away. “Y/N…”

“Eddie, seriously. We need to study.” You said sternly, slapping away the hand that tried to reach for you. “Your government test is in two days and you will pass it.”

He groaned dramatically, falling backwards onto his bed. Eddie said your name like a petulant child, grabbing your forearm and tugging on it gently.

“Can we just take a break? Please.” The pout on his face, while cute, did little to deter your urge to help him improve his grades. “Just a few minutes, okay? Then we can keep studying and I promise I won’t complain for the rest of the night.”

You cocked an eyebrow at him, knowing him better than he’d like to admit. But something about those big doe eyes of his gazing back at you was making it hard for you to deny his wishes.

“Fine.” You sighed, biting back the smile that threatened to appear on your face when he whooped and threw his fist in the air triumphantly. “But only for a few minutes okay? As soon as I say so we’re going back to studying.”

Eddie nodded dismissively, grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah, whatever you say, lovely.”

You chuckled at the, once again, ironic nickname for you but said nothing. The kiss he planted on your lips was welcomed, but you didn’t let it get too carried away. “I have an idea.” You spoke a little breathlessly.

“And what’s that?” Eddie mumbled, trailing kisses from your lips down to your neck.

Your fingers grasped his chin, peeling him away from you. “You could help me rehearse?”

Eddie lights up at the suggestion. He’d yet to hear you sing save for the few times he’d heard you hum along to a song when he played a tape in his car.

The black backpack that sat on the floor was snatched up by your hand, digging in there for the instrumental sheet music and the singing sheet music that’d been given to you by the theater director.

“There Are Worse Things I Could Do” from Grease was broken down into notes on the page. You’d been given a tape of the music but had left it in your locker earlier that day. Luckily, your boyfriend was very musically inclined.

“Here,” You handed him the instrumental paper. Thank god you’d asked the director for the copy to practice with your own guitar at home. “Think you could play this for me so I can practice.”

“I can do whatever you want me to, baby.” The cheesy like caused you to make a face, pushing Eddie away from you as he cackled at your reaction. “Just play the damn song, Edward.”

He reached over to grab his acoustic guitar, a beautiful dark brown color with the words THIS MACHINE SLAYS DRAGONS painted on in white. Eddie set the sheet music in front of him, humming the notes to himself as one hand fiddled with the tuning keys, the other hand plucking and strumming at the strings until it sounded right.

“Right,” He grinned. “I’m ready.”

You nodded, grabbing your own sheet of music. He began to strum the song, eyes flickering between the music and you.

A deep breath entered your chest before you began to sing.

“There are worse things I could do,” Eddie’s eyes widened, plucking a couple of wrong notes in surprise. “Then go with a boy or two,” There was a natural vibrato in your voice and he could tell there was little effort in how flawless you sounded.

“Even though the neighborhood thinks I'm trashy and no good, I suppose it could be true. But there are worse things I could do.” Your eyes had shut to allow yourself to be immersed into the song. This meant that you missed the look of awe that Eddie wore. He had to keep reminding himself to look down at the music so as not to mess you up, but it took all his strength to tear his eyes away from you.

“I could flirt with all the guys. Smile at them and bat my eyes.” The corner of Eddie’s mouth quirked up when he noticed you subtly swaying to the music. Another little detail about you that added fuel to the fire of his heart.

“Press against them when we dance, make them think they stand a chance, then refuse to see it through. That's a thing I'd never do.” The abrupt halt of Eddie’s guitar ripped you from your flow, eyes flying open to glare at him.

Yet Eddie’s face was face was everything but scared, as most people on the receiving end of your glares usually were. Instead, Eddie was wearing the biggest, goofiest grin you’d ever seen.

The amusement on your own face was thinly veiled, not that you needed to hide it. “What happened?”

“If I got on one knee right now would you say yes?” The boy asked, a dreamy look in his eyes.

You’re smirked, glancing down at the way he squirmed in his seat. “Why? My singing make you wanna marry me?”

He nodded dumbly and you couldn’t help but let a grin of your own spread. You snapped your fingers in front of his face. “C’mon, loverboy. Let me finish the song and then we’ll see.”

general taglist:

@teenwolfbitches28 | @thethreeheadeddog | @cerbythepuppy

stranger things taglist:

strike through means tumblr won't let me tag you :(

add yourself to my taglist!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x jade west!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things fic

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ebolagranola · 9 months

Note

What was it about internet basilisks/and or old creepypastas that inspired you to make chainmail chasers?

ChaCha actually started due to a conversation I had with a few friends back in '20 about old Slenderverse webseries. I expressed disappointment that so many just focused on Slendy, and if you were lucky they'd include the Rake as well but not really flesh him out or use him properly. There were exceptions obviously, but you get what I mean.

I've always been fascinated by Smile Dog specifically out of the pastas, and I felt a webseries about it could have a lot of potential. You don't need to do a lot of traveling for filming since it's a mostly digital and mental phenomenon, and the pasta as-is keeps an aura of mystery over just what the image is.

This wasn't enough to pursue a series- it was just a discussion, and at the time I was very very very unconfident in my artistic ability for a whole rabbit hole of reasons. But it got me thinking, and I tend to have a lot of eureka moment with connecting disconnected thematic bits.

There were three things that always fascinated me about the original pasta. One was the idea that it wasn't even a dog- it was said to originally be a photo of the devil, and that over time it changed. If you really dig back into my twitter, around late 2020 (I remember because I reposted it when Heaven Stairway blew up) I posted my own take on Smile Dog. It's the same one that's used in the ParanormalPrickheads page, and there I took the idea of that evolution but extrapolated it, reasoning that after over a decade since the original pasta, the image would've degraded almost to the point of illegibility due to JPEG loss.

That idea basically evolved into the whole "metamorphosis" idea.

The second thing was built up off of that- if the image changed so much, there was no telling if any remakes could be the real deal or not. Or how different they could be from what was described. As a kid I knew the main two images were fake, but I reasoned that they could just be fakes for the sake of safety- the real ones could still be out there. That keeps you on your toes, and definitely leads to a creep factor on finding an "older version" as lost media.

But these were, again, just factors that kept me interested in Smile Dog. Cognitohazards in general interested me, and you had my frequent consumption of YouTube horror analysis content that lead into the setup of ChaCha- a way to initially ground it, develop an audience of people who already like cheesy internet horror, and bait actual Youtubers into covering the channel after they find it during research.

No, none of this is what caused ChaCha directly to happen.

That moment where it all clicked, back in 2020, was an idea for an ending. I have no idea if I can even pull it off. But I need to make it.

But I can't tell you what that is. Not yet.

Spreading the word for a spoiler seems like something only a very pathetic demon would do.

#chainmail chasers #chainmailchasers

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quirkthieves · 2 months

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KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER.

REPOST DO NOT REBLOG !!

NAME: viverra ! but ive also been called vixen, dogma, gabe, etc. any works

PRONOUNS : he/him

PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION : big big fan of discord. tumblr ims are hard for me to read </3

NAME OF MUSE(s) : monoma neito, ibara shiozaki, chitose kizuki/curious, kaina tsutsumi/lady nagant, setsuna tokage, ryo inui/hound dog, natsuo todoroki, kendou itsuka, hinata haruka, nobimaru, inari yoko, marik ishtar, ishizu ishtar, rishid ishtar, atem, and lacramioara strigoi.

jesus christ who let me do this

BEST EXPERIENCE : ummm gee okay i cant just name one it turns out life is actually about the accumulation of small joys and not just a few big ones but every time i get in the car and listen to my music and go OH! THIS REMINDS ME OF THIS PERSONS MUSE AND OUR DYNAMIC! or when talking to people inspires me to draw little comics (esp while im at work let me live) it really just makes me so so happy

RP PET PEEVES / DEALBREAKERS : im pretty chill for the most part i think like ive definitely mellowed out a lot over the past few years but. i gotta say it:

formatting. the over-formatting of everything is killing me. i cant read most peoples carrds. i dont even know how they read it, because of how insanely tiny the text is. eye strain colors, hard to see icons, weird fonts... i dont mind a little bit of formatting, naturally, like go girl give us everything, but its getting to the point of being genuinely frustrating that almost every new blog i encounter has me fighting for my life just trying to learn the important info. i have visual and neurological issues please lord im only seven

MUSE PREFERENCES: seconding cam on if the "when someones pulled a muse apart like the spaghettification of a star and then put them back together". its fascinating. i think the fun part about rp is that i get just as invested in my partners character and what they get out of each thread as much as i do mine, so when people sit there and talk about their ideas and meta and really dig into that thing like . WHOOO NOW WE'RE COOKING

PLOTS OR MEMES : I like both! I think memes are good to kick things off regardless, and I dont mind building off of it. I like to plot a lot ooc but more in a loosey-goosey kind of way; i really like to get to know other muns and their characters and also talking is just sort of how i think through things so its very helpful to me. i also just get a lot of ideas because these things live rent free in my head but to me a natural progression is more important than like, sticking to a script.

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES : i write insanely long replies because i have things wrong with me. theres NEVER any pressure to length match-- a lot of the time im just doing it to establish exposition or setting so the other person finds it easier to work with. just give me something i can work with and we are a ok :D

BEST TIME TO WRITE : it really depends... i typically end up writing in the evening/afternoon because of my schedule. i think the biggest thing is that i work on weekends, so you may only hear from me ooc on those days. im also really trying to fix my sleep schedule.........to varying levels of success. sometimes the thread is too good

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S) : just talking about monoma here... i've also got a pretty snappy mouth and natural love of finding loopholes, but i just went into paralegal instead of making it class A's problem. i also love to laugh, but id like to think im a lot less meanspirited about it

tagged: @dynmghts

tagging: @veroxins @cloistress @killerhubby @enignoema @eclipsemuses @yeonban @starshinc @ofluminance @paracide @ohcruel

#ty cam :D #PURE MUSTELID CRAZY://OOC

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doodlesfromthebird · 2 years

Note

Hi, Canary! It's really nice to see you back. You've been one of my favorite internet artists since I found your work a few years ago, and I really admire your sense of character and costume design! I found you through KH, but I've since fallen in love with your original characters and story ideas, which are lovely. I was wondering if you had any advice for someone hoping to develop their own original characters and worlds. I've been trying to for a few years, but it still feels pretty daunting.

Hello!! Oh my goodness, thank you so much. I'm so glad! ^u^ I absolutely can give some pointers!

Here's a little guide with a few methods I've used to creating characters and developing the world they live in. I'm by no means a writer of any kind (I rarely create stories, and struggle with plot) but I am passionate about developing funky little dudes who live in your brain.

Designing a Character - Make a list. I somewhat recently compiled a document full of design elements, tropes, personality types, aesthetics I generally really liked to help build a small cast of characters I knew I’d have fun designing for. Think about your favorite characters in media and what you like about them! It could be a great jumping point to creating an OC you’re passionate about. That goes for relationship dynamics, too!

Grab a handful of things from that list, 5 or 6 maybe, and there ya go!

- Make a moodboard. I’ve used this method to create characters based on A VIBE and building off that.

I’ve even figured out personalities just based on the “aesthetic text” I found associated with a color. Part of Cherri’s backstory and personality came forth simply because I kept finding Marina lyrics in pink. - Try using online dress up games! I used to use Dolldivine all the time to get creative. - In addition to mood boarding, pinterest can also be a good resource for design inspiration with official concept art for movies/games and assets of those sort of dress-up games readily available. CocoPPa is a good example! [Let’s please respect the wishes of individual artists and either give credit when posting for inspiration or respect their wishes if they state not to repost their work at all.] - In depth character creators in video games! Or simple ones! I’ve built up such an affection for even a few of my stardew valley farmers with their own personal bits of lore, they could probably be stand alone characters separate from the game at this point. Sometimes developing a character from an established setting can be a good base. Dig some of your old fan characters out of the closet, even!

Get to know your character

Getting to know your OC is one of my favorite parts of the process, and is something I find really important if you want to get attached to them. And you should!! The more these guys are on your brain, the more you start asking questions about them, and the more bigger details start to fall into place. - Go broad. Say you have the base concept of a character with their situation, their goal in life, their goal in the present moment, and the past/future that will effect them. What lies do they believe as truth? How has their childhood effected their habits and views? What's one secret they keep to no one but themselves? Who are the most influential people in their past and in their day to day life? - Go detailed. They're practically a roommate living rent free in your mind, so think about what a day in their life is like. Observe how they do small things. What are they eating for breakfast? How do they carry themselves when they walk? Nervous habits? What are they wearing to go to get quinoa from trader joes??? Detail what a few hours of what it'd be like to observe them, doing what they do every day and how they'd do it. - Give them an interview. Here's a blank bio sheet with a detailed list of questions that could be fun to fill out at your leisure! A lot of good questions to chew on. - Or quite literally give them an interview. Pretend they're sat down to answer some questions and think about how multiple characters would answer the same question. Do they overshare? Are they curt and to the point? Do they frequently lie and contradict themselves? What questions take them off guard? - Write about your own experiences. Giving characters traits and experiences you can speak from in a detailed can really flesh them out as people and gives them that relatability. Even if they’re decidedly different from you as a whole, there’s that point of connection that anchors them to you.

Worldbuilding...ish

Developing a world is a little less easy for me to give advice on, as I’m very character oriented, so my worldbuilding is more of starting with the bigger picture and then filling in details that would affect the character directly, while some other things aren’t as fleshed out and water tight. (I’m working on it!) Some universes have more to them than others simply due to how much time I’ve spent with them over the years. But it’s important, a lot of fun, and gives all the more weight to the universe you’re developing.

- Research. If you’re like me and either have no writing experience or have difficulty pulling key world-building aspects from imagination, there’s a PLETHORA of resources to learn from, a lot of it free and on youtube, even. Make yourself a playlist, grab a notepad and sit yourself down to gather info, and map things out. If you’re, say, creating a country from scratch, look into places with a similar climate and how it affects what species live there. I’ve been researching dining etiquette and shipbuilding lately! It would be of great help to learn from writers as well, if you aren’t one yourself. There's A Lot of advice out there. - Ask cause and effect questions. I create a lot for the fantasy genre, so I get to ask questions like...”What does a world being shaped by the gods/guardians look like? How has their presence influenced the mortals they look after? Their culture, their customs, the way they communicate? What’s the actual truth of ancient happenings and what has been passed down through a long, long game of telephone? What is the truth current day people believe about magic, technology and historical events? What kind of questions could you ask from the world you’re creating? -Appease your inner child. Think back on what captured your attention as a kid and how you experienced them through your eyes at the time. What sort of things did you feel experiencing your favorite games, movies or books that you can still tap into through a nostalgic lens? I feel incredibly attached to my The Spiral OC universe when I’m playing Legend of Zelda games, especially Wind Waker. The mood, the sense of adventure. The feeling of sailing the seas, the quietness of Windfall at night, the reverent silence when arriving at Hyrule frozen in time. Those feelings have lent an atmosphere to the world I’d go on to create for myself, and still illicit a strong emotional response when I visualize aspects of it. the adventure, the monsters, the sweet and emotional tone, and the heaviness of ancient legend lost to time. - Immerse yourself in other people’s worlds. Get into a tabletop game podcast of your preferred genre! You’ve got high fantasy dnd, but there’s also plenty of sci-fi, modern fantasy, post-apocalyptic, and more. Listening to multiple people work together to build their world (sometimes as they go a long!) can really get that creative juice a-flowing. Critical Role and The Adventure Zone are big ones, but I also recommend SkyJacks, Friends at the Table, Dimension 20, Dungeons and Daddies and JemJammer! Worldbuilding prompts/generators! X X X I hope ANY of this was helpful, I’m happy to answer specific questions as well.

#sorry for the delay in answering!#its my birthday go out and give ur OCs some love #INDULGE!! INDULGE I SAY #masterpost #character design #original character #text #letters to the bird

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umlewis · 1 year

Video

lewis hamilton is interviewed ahead of the miami grand prix [part 1] - may 3, 2023 (transcription under the cut)

Interviewer: "So, Lewis, just saw you playing a bit of basketball. It looks like that's not your first time, right? You've played a bit before. You looked pretty good out there." Lewis: "I played when I was a kid, and I love to play when I can, but I haven't played for ages." Interviewer: "Do you get competitive even in those kind of situations?" Lewis: "Super. I think it's almost like a sickness. [laughs] When I lost, I was... Yeah, can't help it. I'm like, damnit! I'm like, re-run it. All I can think of is like, can I get them to re-run it? And then, at the end, I stayed and I just kept hitting... Just to get past that comeptitive part of me, so, yeah." Interviewer: "It did look good at the end. At the end, it looked like you were..." Lewis: "Yeah, but it should be... When the pressure was on, I should have been good." Interviewer: "Yeah. All I can say is, we had George do it a couple of years ago and you're better than George, so..." Lewis: "Oh, yeah, yeah. I mean, if I wasn't, it would be a huge let-down on that side of things. Like, I grew up playing. I love basketball and I follow it. George definitely doesn't. I don't know what other sport George... Maybe soccer or something like that, but..." Interviewer: "Well, we saw you two playing a bit of table tennis. That looked competitive." Lewis: "Oh, yeah, yeah. I need to get better at that, as well. Yeah, he had a ping pong table, like, we made a desk, and then he brought his own ping pong net, so yeah, I think we have to re-up that game. I definitely need to get better at ping pong." Interviewer: "So that's the one thing he's got on you, maybe? Is..." Lewis: "At the moment, he's killing me at... He beat me. Well, not killing me, but he beat me at ping pong, so I definitely need to work on that." Interviewer: "Yeah, I can see that." Lewis: "Hopefully, maybe we'll get a table more frequently, and then we'll see how it is at the end of the year." Interviewer: "It was great content, as well, seeing you two doing something like that." Lewis: "Yeah, it was good fun." Interviewer: "While we're on the subject of basketball, or back on the subject of basketball, I see you posted Giannis' piece in the press conference where he talked about failure and the very big difference between failure and steps to make progress. What did that say to you? Because obviously it's something which you wanted to put back out there, as well." Lewis: "I reposted it because I just felt... I've been in that position and I could feel the frustration. I knew exactly how it is, like that, 'cause when you're working toward something, it's all about... Success is made up of a ton of failures. You fail far more than you do succeed, and I think sometimes people are complacent when they're asking you questions. 'How does it feel to be failing?' It's not really that... There are no mistakes, there are only lessons, I keep saying, and you can't always win. But it's not how you fall, it's how you get back up. It's how you show up, day in, day out, and train, and continue to try to get to wherever it is you're trying to get to, which is obviously the top, and I thought it was really inspirational. I thought he just spoke very, very well. I think he was just very eloquent with how he put it down." Interviewer: "Yeah, 'cause we only tend to see the success; the tip of the iceberg, if you like. There must be so much that goes on, being a pro athlete, to get to that point and, obviously, like you say, failures, call them what you like, along the way, but it's all steps toward something important, right?" Lewis: "Yeah, exactly, but also people... I mean, the emotional stress you go through when you're working with a team... The emotional feelings you go through, the physical, where you're just constantly having to dig deep... And all sportsmen and women out there will know what it's like. It's great to see there's so many people so super competitive, but yeah, it's obviously a different... When you see them... From our side of the table, when you're on this side being asked questions and you're the one going through all this stuff... In the spotlight, as well. I feel sometimes it's difficult for people to understand, I guess." Interviewer: "Yeah, I mean, right now, obviously things aren't quite where you want it, but your motivation is still there. We heard you get out of the car in Baku and you were saying I don't just want one more year. I want several more years here. So where's that coming from, inside you?" Lewis: "I love what I do. I mean, racing has been my life... Two-thirds of my life, I've been racing, so there's never gonna be a day that I don't... I'm always gonna be watching racing. I'll always be a driver, 'til I die, right? The seasons are very long. It's a gruelling career, but it also gives so much. But I don't know. I'm loving working with my team, I'm still loving racing, and I love being in battle on track. And when you get in the zone, where you're really on top of everything, there's a special synergy that you have which is hard to find. And I'm 38, but I feel younger than ever. I'm training better than I've ever trained before, I feel like I'm in a great place, so I don't see why I would want to stop any time soon. And there's a lot more I wanna do within the sport. As the sport continues to grow, the work that we're doing, not only within the sport, but outside, in terms of the impact... And working here today with IWC and [unintelligible], getting young kids an opportunity to get into STEM from underserved communities, that's some incredible work, and I wanna be a part of that." Interviewer: "Yeah, 'cause that's really tied in with what you've tried to, as well, from Mission 44, and you were saying the other day that you'd like to expand it to the US, you'd like to expand it to Africa. Could you talk about what the plans are there?" Lewis: "Yeah, Mission 44, we're working on a plan to expand it to... I'd love to bring it to the States and I'd love to do some work... With my trip to Africa and discovering more about my heritage in Africa, I see there's so much opportunity out there for kids, and it's really hard to believe it if you can't see it, so it's creating an opportunity for these kids. Every kid deserves an opportunity; a good education. Every kid should understand what STEM could lead to, and it's not just one job, and I think there's just a lot of... And also just, I'm really focused on just transforming the lives of young, underserved kids. That's what drives me when I'm in the car. If I can get on the podium, and get first, and I have a bigger platform to push that narrative and work with great brands like IWC to actually make an impact when we are in these places... And it's not just about a product. I's actually about a real story and a journey that we're on."

#lewis hamilton #f1 #formula 1 #miami gp 2023 #fic ref #fic ref 2023 #miami #miami 2023 #miami 2023 wednesday #not a race #2023 not a race #between baku and miami 2023 #with george

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