Writer’s block fucking sucks, trying to write fics and I can’t 😭

when i speak of angels, i don’t mean holiness.
i think of my sister at the foot of the old tamarisk on the playground we used to go to after school, looking up at me through pale, feathery branches; not with affection, but with mortal fury. her dark little hands closed around my ankles whenever i leaned too low, trying to drag me down; standing just out of reach, and punished for it. she never dared climb next to me.

sometimes it angers me, that strange inheritance; that the only love i receive without resentment arrives as violence.

the world is cold so don’t forget your blanket

It’s dark and stormy and quiet today and it has me in a contemplative mood.

So a question for y'all: if you had one word (or adjectival phrase, I’ll give you some bonus words if you play nice) to describe my writing, what would you pick? What’s the overall impression?

assorted thoughts i had while writing ass like that fic

maphinz is lowkey loser4loser

sophia’s ass… sophia’s lip gloss… manon’s abs

can you imagine what little black dress and grammys jumpsuit sophia would have done to this manon

the name was always going to be ass like that. there were never any other options. i finally have a fic name that’s short enough to not need an abbreviated title for tags

i wanted to get this done before red thread, so i wouldn’t be posting smut twice in a row, but here we are. crazy thing is this fic was pretty much as done as it was gonna get when i decided to write (and finish) the majority of red thread instead. all i had to do was finish like two things and editing. same thing happened with eric being released before heterozini. i just wasn’t happy with the fics. i’m feeling alright about ass like that now though. reading a book cured me

one (1) fic spoiler below the cut

i think sophia’s plan was something like: be super hot (✅)->seduce manon->manon will be so overcome with lust she simply must fuck sophia against one of the practice room mirrors (hot)->profit (dating). this probably would’ve worked if sophia hadn’t gotten impatient outside of manon’s apartment. manon likely would’ve snapped eventually, without sophia needing to say anything

Something about the new story I’m planning that’s so fun is that there are so many potential skrunkly poor little meow meows to put hats on in this cast.

I’m so burnt out. I try but everything I write turns tasteless, boring, dull. Having writing as a hobby truly sucks because these phases becomes more and more frequent as the years go by. I feel like such a bum cus of it too

sum; DBF!Chris simply can’t deny himself the selfish pleasures he seeks anymore once he sees you after so long

content; age gap (reader is fresh out of college, Chris is 40-ish), dad’s bsf!Chris, size kink, size difference, overstimulation, fingering, oral (f!receiving), belly bulge, protected sex, reader flirts w Chris, some aftercare

wc; 4.8k

a/n; this is lowkey ass, but i needed to write something cuz im working on a bigger piece for chris, so look out for that!! might break it up into chapters? we’ll see!

Chris wasn’t one of your dads friends for very long, only over the last seven or eight years. He came into your dad’s life just before you were graduating high school, and now, he was here while you graduated college. You came back home to visit for a while as you searched for a decent job in your degrees area. It was beyond hot, and you felt very lucky to be back home with your parent’s backyard pool. What you didn’t account for today was the fact that Chris had a miscommunication with your father, so he came by whilst your dad was out of town for the week with your mother. You answered the door, hardly covered by your skimpy bikini and the lazy cover-up that laid low around your hips.

“Mr. Redfield?” You raised a brow.

Chris always hated that. Being called ‘Mr.’ He knew you called every elder by Ms, Mr, or Mrs, a thing of respect you’d grown up with, but wow, did it make him feel old. He cleared his throat.

“Sorry, I’m just here for your father. He gonna be home soon?”

“Uh.. if soon means in four days, then yeah, sure.” You snickered. “My parents are out of town. They wanted a solo vacation, so I’ve got the house all to myself.” You grinned, proud and mischievous.

“I must have gotten dates mixed up, then.” He shook his head. “I’ll leave you to your… alone time.” He readied to step away.

“Wait, no one said you had to go.” You blurted out, gesturing him to come in. “Come in. You live so far, at least let me get you a drink.”

“I don’t think I should be day drinking with my friend’s daughter.” Chris chuckled.

“I’m an adult. You’re an adult. It’s a hot day. It’s a celebratory day—I just scored a job yesterday. It’s just a receptionist job at some big company, but hey, it’s a step, and I’ll be out of town soon. So let’s drink.” You reached out, pulling him in by his forearm—his well-worked forearm that tensed under your urgent touch. He scoffed.

“Very persuasive.” He gave in, letting you pull him into the kitchen as he kicked the door shut and followed you to the island as he waited for you to retrieve the golden liquid from your father’s cabinet, two glasses set down with it.

“So, how’s life?” You asked, pouring two generous glasses before sliding one over to him, your elbows leaning on the counter. “Been a while since we talked. Hell, I don’t think I’ve seen you much at all in a couple of years.” You scoffed, reminding yourself of how you’d been unable to visit for longer than a week over your final years in college.

“Life’s decent. You know how it is. Work, go home, sleep, rinse and repeat.” He shrugged, reaching for the glass and taking a slow sip, eyes trained steadily on yours.

“God, I’m not ready to be stuck to that loop.” You laughed faintly, shaking your head.

“Enjoy your last bits of freedom, kid. You’ll be itching to get out of those office clothes by the third day.” He joked, chuckling as he let his eyes drop ever so slightly lower, scanning over the skimpy top you wore as an excuse for a bikini. He knew swimsuits were revealing, but Jesus, he didn’t see it in action very often. Especially not on someone so young and pretty like yourself.

“I’m not a kid, Chris. I just finished college.” You huffed. “And yeah, I’m not gonna enjoy those office clothes, but I’ll enjoy the benefits of a job. I’ll still have weekends and nights to myself. A girl knows how to keep herself busy.” You winked, half playful and half joking.

Chris looked away, scoffing out a laugh. “Don’t wink like that. It makes it look like you’re leaving me with innuendos.” He looked back at you, downing the last bit of the small drink he’d had left like he was using it to steel his nerves.

“Maybe I am. What’s the problem with that? I’m only teasing.” Your head tilted, watching as Chris reached out to pour himself another glass.

“The problem is that you’re my friend’s daughter, and you’re half my age. I don’t think it’s appropriate. On my end, at least.” He explained, honest and blunt.

“We’re both adults, Chris. It doesn’t matter who my dad is.” You frowned, setting your glass down and straightening up to circle the kitchen island before stopping just a couple of steps in front of him. “I don’t see an issue. Two adults. Both, if you don’t mind my saying, are very attractive. There’s clearly something, isn’t there?” You prodded, watching him grip his glass tighter, massive hand engulfing the smaller item. The sight made you squeeze your legs together, quickly shifting to disguise it as a small shuffle of your feet.

Chris looked away, another laugh leaving him, this time nervous. “There’s something, but it’s one of those things that shouldn’t be explored.”

“Oh, says who? Society? My dad? Whatever. Boo-hoo. I can make my own choices. And you wanna know what choice I’m hoping to make right now?” You stepped closer, looking up at him.

He finally looked down at you, fully turning for his body to face yours. “What choice is that?” He asked, letting you play through your silly game that had him losing himself by the minute. He’d been here all of five minutes, and he was about to let things get way too far.

“The choice that leads to you in my bed.” You said, shameless and proud. Chris visibly shivered, and when your eyes drifted lower, you almost caught a glimpse of the natural bulge in his jeans before your gaze snapped back upward when you left his hand grab at your forearm.

“Tell me this is what you want. Not just some summer fling because if I do this, I’m gonna want it again, and I need you to know that.” His teeth were gritted for the first part of his words, like he was struggling to hold back every ounce of need he’d been holding onto since you opened that door.

“I’ve been thinking about this for so long, Chris.” You admitted, reaching up to lay a hand on his shoulder. “I tried to do it with a guy from my class, but he just… didn’t do it for me. Wasn’t right.” You felt his grip tighten. Not enough to hurt, but to feel possessive. “I’m hoping you’ll be better than he was.”

“So, you’ve had sex before?” He asked, the question finally coming to mind.

“No. I got close to it, but he ended up busting after a shitty handjob I was giving him as foreplay.” You grumbled at the memory. “He wasn’t even big.” You added.

Chris almost hesitated at the reminder that you had yet to have full-on sex with someone. You’d done sexual stuff, but not sex itself, it seemed. “Let’s fix that, yeah?” Chris murmured, leaning in to find your lips at long last. You leaned in immediately, hand rising from his shoulder to the back of his head. Chris grabbed you by your thighs, pulling you into his grasp and letting you wrap your legs around his hips. You whined slightly at the bulge that nudged against your butt, hips shifting to seek friction from it.

“Uh-uh. Not here. I’m not fucking you in the kitchen.” He pulled back, kissing along your neck as he navigated his way to your bedroom. He barely turned the knob enough to open the door before he was tumbling in, kicking the door shut and laying you on the bed. He stood, leaving you for a moment as he went to close the curtains to the windows in your room.

“Didn’t have to close them.” You huffed, watching him come back as he shed himself of his shoes and began undoing his belt. He didn’t move to remove anything yet, just to let his body breathe a little as his jeans became tighter.

“What? You want someone to peek in and watch?” He teased, finding his way on top of you, grabbing your hips and lifting them to press your clothed pussy against his bulge. You whimpered slightly.

“No,” you murmured. “Maybe.” You looked away. Chris snickered at the bashful admission, but he didn’t dwell on it as he found his way to connect your lips with his once more. Messy, hungry, and wet. You moaned into the kiss, letting him guide your hips effortlessly to grind into his bulge. He groaned, a guttural noise that made you choke on your own sounds to try and hear his better.

“Such a dirty girl. Look what you started. All because you wanted some dick, huh?” He taunted, hips bucking into yours. You squeaked, his bulge dragging against your clothed clit.

“Chris,” you whined. “I wanted you. Pleeease,” You begged, hands dragging eagerly over his chest and balling your fists with the fabric of his shirt, tugging at it.

“No, we’re just starting, princess. This is the part where you sit here and take what I give you, yeah?” He tapped your cheek, encouraging a nod from you. You obeyed, nodding desperately as your hips bucked towards him again, only to be met with nothing as he held your hips down this time. You nearly cried, hands grasping at his forearms.

“Can’t you just fuck me already?” You grumbled.

“No, no, not yet. Gotta get you ready for me. You haven’t taken a cock before, have you?”

“Not a real one.” You murmured, looking away.

“Exactly. Those stupid pieces of silicone are nothing in comparison to the real thing.” He scoffed, leaning down to kiss your collarbone. He reached under you, finding the tie of your bikini top before he undid both ties, pulling the skimpy pink fabric away from you. He threw the fabric away, head dipping lower to capture a nipple between his teeth. You mewled, eyes squeezing shut. His rough fingers came to your neglected breast, thumb and forefinger pinching and rolling the pebbled nub. His other hand moved downward to palm himself through his jeans, grinding his hand against his boner.

You shuddered as he pulled from your nipple with a lewd 'pop!’ sound, a thin string of saliva connecting his lips to your well-worked nipple. He switched to the other tit, offering the same treatement—suck, bite, lick, repeat until satisfied. He repeated that on both tits multiple times before he moved down, sucking and biting marks into your skin on his way down. And of course, he drew it out as long as he could. Instead of removing your bikini bottoms, he waited, sucking hickeys and leaving bites in your thighs and hips. Only occasionally did his fingers come to nudge at your clit over the fabric, eliciting a whimper each time.

“Chris, please.” You sniffled. “I need it. I need you.” You whined, hips shifting closer.

“Patience, or I won’t give you anything.” He threatened. You groaned, smacking lazily at the comforter beneath you. He swatted your thigh. “Behave.” He demanded.

“You’re being mean.” You whined. “I don’t need prep. I can take it. Please!” You reached down to try pulling him closer, but it was no use.

“Trust me, baby, you’ll want the prep.” He said bluntly. Much to your pleasure, he finally removed your underwear and hooked your thighs over his shoulders. You bit your lip, a small squeak leaving your throat as he yanked you closer to his face.

Chris didn’t tease anymore as he dragged his tongue between your folds, watching your head fall back with a full body shiver, thighs clenching around his head. He repeated the slow, calculated drag of his tongue, lazily nudging at your clit before he’d drag it back down and prod at your hole. You whimpered, hips jolting at the sensation. He dove in, tongue finding its way as deep as it could go. He worked it back and forth, offering a small, hardly there stretch. It didn’t offer much, but it was enough to satiate you for now combined with the way his nose nudged your clit.

Soft, unhurried moans left your lips in a mix of mewls and giggles when his stubbled cheek would tickle your inner thigh. He took his time eating you out, but his desperation could still be felt in how he lapped at you like a man starved, unwilling to waste any of your taste. You weren’t sure how much of your wetness was actually yours or if it was mostly his spit by now. The thought made you squeeze around nothing, and he felt it as his tongue prodded at the twitchy hole. He brought one hand between your thighs, replacing his tongue with his fingers. His mouth focused solely on your clit as he slipped two fingers inside of you.

Unlike his tongue, the two thick fingers did offer a stretch, one that you welcomed with a louder squeal. He started ruthlessly, fingers pumping fast and mean as he curled them to find that spongy spot. You cried out, and he grunted at the sound.

“R-right there! Fuck, yes, do i-it again!” You pleaded, aimlessly swatting his shoulders to make him understand your urgency. He took his free hand and grabbed your wrists in one, holding them down against your chest. You cried as he doubled his efforts, hips jolting desperately into his touch.

Chris looked up at you, providing a particularly mean suck of your clit before you squealed, back arching as your heels dug into his back, hips grinding messily against his face.

“Chris—oh, god—’m gonna cum! Please, please, lemme cum!” You sobbed, eyes rolling back into your head as your lips struggled to stay shut for even a moment. He didn’t have to say anything as you were already cumming within three seconds of your warning. You trembled, thighs squeezing around his head as he fucked you through your orgasm, forcing wave after wave of pleasure out of you. He only stopped when you let out a strangled cry, one that worried him. He lifted his head, fingers retracting slowly as he crawled up to look at you. Good thing was that you weren’t actually crying or in pain.

“Poor thing, can’t even handle a little fingering. I don’t know if you’ll be able to take my cock today.” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

“No! No! Please! Please, Chris, I can take it!” You urged desperately, trying to push forward to kiss him, but he’d hand still held your wrists down against your chest, holding you in place.

“Maybe I shouldn’t push you so much. I don’t wanna hurt you.” He continued to tease, mock pity on his face.

No words left you this time—only a whimpery cry as your eyes watered like you were genuinely hurt by his denial. Like you had a plan in mind, and it was all ruined just by his refusal to give in to his needs. He almost took pity.

“You’re such a pretty girl.” He mused, leaning in to kiss you. Softer, less rushed. You whimpered at the taste of you on his tongue, but he relished in it. “I want you to cum a couple more times before you take me. Can you do that for me, princess?” He murmured into the kiss, feeling you nod eagerly.

“I can. I can take it. I swear..” you pleaded gently.

“If you can’t, then you won’t get what you want. Don’t forget.” He reminded you, finding himself pulling away from you completely, letting your wrists go so you could follow. He sat next to you, and you crawled into his lap, hips burning at the stretch of straddling his wide hips. He found his hands laying over your hips, guiding you forward to drag your wet cunt over the rough fabric of his jeans. You whimpered.

“Chris, ’m so sensitive..” you pouted lightly.

“What should I do about that, baby? I’m not making you do anything.” He said, hands leaving your hips to prove the point that your body moved on its own, messier without his steady guidance. Chris’ hands came up to palm your tits, squeezing roughly at the fleshy mounds and letting his fingers pinch at the pebbling nipples.

“Chris!” You squeaked, hips jolting. Your clit throbbed with oversensitivity, pussy dripping onto the thick fabric of his jeans. “No—mmh.. take the jeans off. Please?” You asked shakily, hips halting as he kept pinching and pulling at your nipples, lazily groping the mounds.

“Just the jeans?” He smirked faintly.

“No. No. A-all of it. All of it.” You repeated yourself, damn near delirious as he gave you the option to ask for him to get naked.

“I think we should wait, don’t you? All you’ve done is hardly move your hips.” He tutted his tongue, leaning back on the headboard. You looked at him, almost like you were ready to smack him for how mean he was being. But you didn’t. You shifted, straddling onto one thigh and grinding roughly. He was almost speechless, watching you twitch and push through the jolts of pleasure that throbbed through your nerves.

“Just.. just want you, Chris.” Your voice shook, hands grabbing desperately at the belt loops of his jeans as your hips sped up ever so slightly, body leaned forward to give your clit more precise attention. Chris watched, humming his approval as he watched your head fall forward to his shoulder.

“There we go. See? You can handle it just fine. You just wanna whine and not put in the work.” Chris mused, kissing at the spot just below your pulse point, moaning softly at the way your knee nudged against his balls, occasionally shifting and getting a small reaction from him. It didn’t take long before you cried with frustration, pulling back to look up at him.

“I can’t. It—it’s not the same.” You sniffled, a genuine look of distress over your features.

“What can I do for you?” He played dumb, leaning in to kiss you, slow yet hungry.

“Touch me. Need.. need something inside.” You pleaded softly, the words muffled against his lips as you found yourself grabbing his wrist and tugging it downward toward your pussy.

Chris didn’t argue this time, understanding your needs. “You wanna fuck yourself on my hand, princess?” He hummed, pulling back to look at you. You nodded eagerly.

“Please. It felt so good.” You breathed, hips lifting for him to slide his hand underneath, gently circling your hole with two fingers before you sank onto the thick digits. You shivered, hips grinding steadily as his thumb found your clit, massaging from the underside in a lazy circular motion.

Chris helped only so much, finger curling and pushing in deeper with every forward grind of your shaking hips. It wasn’t much difference until he slid in a third finger, the stretch burning once more, a burn that only encouraged you to move to adjust to the size. If you were gonna take him, you had to prove yourself, no? So you did. Chris worked you to another climax, but he was less pleased at the outcome as it seemed you got less pleasure out of this one.

“Do you think you’re ready? Or should I give you one more?” He asked, slowly pulling his fingers out of you and bringing them up to his lips. He licked one clean, only to hold the other two out to you, a silent command for you to suck his fingers clean. You did so without complaint, a soft moan leaving your lips as your tongue worked along his dirty fingers. He pulled them back after a minute. “I don’t think that last one felt as good. Am I right?” He murmured.

You nodded, looking away. “Just.. wasn’t enough.” You muttered. “Need more. Bigger.” You emphasized, knee nudging toward his cock.

“Lay down and get comfortable.” He said, patting your ass. You listened, eager to finally get what you wanted. Chris rose from the bed, finally ridding himself of all his clothes. First his shirt, then his pants, and finally, his boxers. His cock sprang free, heavy and angry, unable to hold itself up. You swallowed, eyes wide.

“I.. I don’t know if you’re going to fit.” You admitted.

“This is why I told you I needed to get you ready for me.” He crawled over you, slotting himself between your thighs. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it fit just right.” He lined himself up, dragging his cock along your folds.

“W-wait, wait, fuck,” you gasped, a hand pressing to his lower abdomen to get him to halt his actions. He did. You reached into your bedside table, rummaging for a small box. You’d painted over it to make it look like a box of candies. In reality, it was a box of condoms. Chris blinked.

“Good thing one of us have self control.” He chuckled, leaning down to kiss you. “Sorry, princess. Just got a little too excited.” He murmured.

“’S okay, Chris.” You giggled, tearing one of the condoms open and tossing the box aside. You took it out, slowly rolling it down his cock. He really was massive, you realized it as your hands wrapped around his cock. Your hands barely fit comfortably around the thickest part of his shaft, and his length nearly scared you.

“You ready?” He asked, your hands coming to lay at your sides as you shifted to get comfortable for Chris, nodding your head. Chris lined himself up once more, tip nudging impatiently at your hole. You swallowed harshly. He eased the first inch just past your entrance, watching you turn your head away as your nose scrunched at the stretch. It stung, but you tried to ignore it. Chris didn’t dwell, but he wasn’t mean about it. His pushing was slow, and your body didn’t resist his size. It hurt, but it didn’t take long for him to bottom out, cock head pressed snug against your cervix. You let out a muffled whine, shifting uncomfortably.

“Relax for me, yeah? Promise it’ll feel so fucking good.” His hips pressed further, trying to find some inhuman way to get deeper. You yelped lightly, back arching. He took one of your hands and brought it down to your lower belly, pressing your palm flat against the bulge inside of you. You looked up at him. He was massive—crowding over you as he caged you in with one arm resting at the side of your head to keep himself up.

“Oh, my god..” you whimpered. “You’re too big.” You objected.

“No such thing. Just gotta get your pretty pussy to relax for me.” He insisted, hand leaving yours so he could bring it lower, massaging slow, rough circles at your puffy clit. You gasped, thighs clamping around his hips. He felt your walls pulse around him, and he took the opportunity to pull back, slow and gentle. You couldn’t tell if the pain outweighed the pleasure yet, but he worked you through it. His head dipped to tease your nipples, switching back and forth to flick his tongue against each pebbled nipple while his hand remained at your clit. He gave you as much attention as possible to distract from the pain, and soon enough, it had completely subsided.

He picked up the pace, looking up at you as your eyes rolled back. Your words no longer made much sense besides the pleads and praises for him, desperation fogging your mind.

“See? Already stupid for my cock.” He bit down on the side of your breast, eliciting a squeal as he soothed the bite with a gentle suck and lick, adding to the marks he already left.

“Please—yes, fuck!” You cried out, back arching. He took both hands and lifted your hips, lowering his own so he could, much to your shock, find a deeper angle. You choked on your own squeal as his cock stuffed you with each deep thrust, the new angle feeling more full than you thought was possible from before.

“God, you just love bein’ so dirty, don’t you?” He spat, panting as he picked up speed and roughness. “Coming onto me like that just to get some attention for your pretty pussy. You sure you’ve never done this? You seem pretty good at—mmh—at getting exactly what you want.” Chris rambled on, taunting words leaving his lips. You couldn’t fight back, couldn’t deny or argue with his accusations. None of them were wrong, aside from whether you did this or not. You’d never tried to seduce someone like you did to him, but you definitely did to it exactly to get some attention from him.

“Fuck—yesyesyes—'mmm gonna cum!” You squealed, eyes rolling back. Chris slammed into you, harder and meaner. Chris held your hips up with one hand, the other coming to torture your already overwhelmed clit. With everything combined, it didn’t take long for you to scream his name, cunt pulsing around his cock impatiently. He just about came, but stopped himself. He fucked you through your orgasm, coming to a stop so he could slowly pull out. You jolted with shocks of pleasure, eyes struggling to stay open.

You squeaked when he flipped you onto your stomach, his weight pressing into you. He didn’t even try to lift your hips, nor did you, because he couldn’t. He slid his cock between your folds, fixing the condom before he slipped back in. You cried out, walls raw and overfucked. With this position, trapped beneath him, unable to spread your legs or lift your hips, everything was far tighter and harder to adjust to. Chris let out a guttural groan, eyes rolling back as his cock bullied its way to your cervix again. This time, he didn’t wait. He didn’t let you readjust. He started fast and mean, fucking you like some kind of fleshlight. You sobbed into your pillow, and Chris buried his face into your neck.

“Shh, shh,” he soothed, but it came out mockingly as he reached underneath you to find your clit. Another raw cry left your lips, hips bucking back and forth in the minimal space he gave you. You weren’t sure if your body was asking for more or less.

Chris approached his own high, first one of the day, while you approached your fourth. You weren’t sure how you were still awake. Normally, you could barely handle one on your own. Chris could tell you were approaching your limit, but it didn’t stop him from chasing his own pleasure. You hadn’t asked him to stop, nor did you mean any of your pleas for him to give you a break. Both of you knew that, given how you’d nearly sobbed for him to fuck you.

“Fuck, just a little more, okay? Little more, and I’ll be all done.” He promised, hissing as his hips rutted relentlessly into you. You sobbed, nodding as you turned your head. Chris leaned to meet your lips, a messy and uncoordinated kiss that barely even counted as a kiss with how you could hardly return it. “Come on, gimme one more. Give it to me, sweet girl.” He hissed, pace bordering inhuman.

Your body listened, reaching its limit. Your pillow muffled the raw scream that filled the house, eyes rolling back as tears stained your cheeks and the pillow beneath your face. Chris followed shortly after you, his own high pulling grunts and almost whimpers from him. The only thing that could’ve made it better was raw sex, but he didn’t want that risk.

Slowly, as you two came down, he pulled out and crawled off of you. He discarded the condom in your bedside trash can, returning to your side and helping you sit upright. He pulled you into his hold, murmuring soft praise and apologies for his rough treatment.

“Mmh..” you curled yourself into him, legs wrapping around his waist. “It felt good.” You uttered, only for your eyes to fall shut within seconds later. Chris chuckled, kissing your forehead.

Chris carried you to help you clean up, though he did 99% of the work. Once you were both clean, he carried you back to your bed, stripping the dirty comforter and laying down with you, pulling your smaller blanket over your bodies.

“This stays between us.” He murmured.

“'Course it does. Why would I tell anyone about you? Want you all to myself.” Your arms squeezed tighter around him, and he returned the favor.

“Take a nap. I’ll be here when you wake up, princess.” He promised, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Promise?” You looked up at him, dazed and sleepy.

“Promise.” He kissed your lips softly, letting you relax and use his presence as a safety net for your nap, which he joined later on.

9 Lines Tag

Thank youuu @petalsandspiderwebs !!

A bit of a scene between a younger Lamia and Crispin…

Lamia gripped Crispin’s hand so tightly he thought his bones should be crushed.
“It is just as I hoped!” she screamed. The pointed ends of her claws dug into his knuckles. Crispin could only stand there limply, looking miserably back and forth between Lamia and the Head. The Head stared forward with its dull waxen eyes in their shriveled sockets. Crispin thought to ask how this would come about, and even opened his mouth, when Lamia cut in.
“‘Twill be all, Head!” cried she, and did the magic and the alertness left its eyes and the muscles of the yellowed flesh settled.
All at once Lamia crushed Crispin to her. “Thou art mine, mine alone, brother!”

Tagging: @moonrabbitwriter, @armentas, @writingingraves, @traderotales, and

@ettawritesnstudies !

yall be missing the principle of situations & think people be mad for no reason

writer’s block hits like a truck. must write something gay but i don’t wanna write something in a fandom… ARGH

When I think of pennywise sleeping next to me, which I do quite often, I like to imagine it either lying on its side in fetal, or on its tummy, face squished into the pillow. No blanket, unless there’s cuddling involved.

And I like to imagine it having a constant stain on the pillow by its mouth because it dreams and those dreams cause it to drool in its sleep.

The dreams maybe also cause it to make little noises, little purrs and growls. Little huffs of breath.

Maybe it even twitches in its sleep, just small movements like a nose twitch, its leg kicking lightly, fingers clenching and unclenching. Maybe they’re holding onto your shirt as they do that?

Or maybe not just from dreams, maybe touch too. Stroking its hair making it purr, touching its arm making it twitch. But if you’ve been caressing it as it sleeps and you stop, it wakes up and demands you continue.

Realistically I assume it’d just be lying there like a board, motionless and soundless. But I think this would be much more cute.

Can you guys tell I’ve had a very tiring week from my sleep related posts?

Anyway, let’s all think about sleeping pennywise together.

Writing ch. 12 for Pieces of The Night and were finally going to be at the graduation!! Some worlds may collide…

Anywayssss, I really like the idea of writing one shots for the POTN universe but I’m struggling on ideas for them so if there’s any scenes/situations you’d like to see them in let me know!!

Licking Flames Off My Wrists

Pouring flames down my throat,

I drink because

what kills me makes me free,

and You No Longer Captivate Me.

Pouring flames down my throat,

I drink as though you know what takes me

to bed every night,

like you’d know what moves against me

in my sleep.

Pouring flames down my throat,

I empty bottles the way the heart

empties its chambers of blood,

and you would never know

how mine beats alone

Pouring flames down my throat,

I drink as if you’d ever beg me not to.

I have decided to share a portion of the writing project I’ve been working on for the past two years now, in hopes to get some feedback. Think of this like a test-screening for a movie so I can get the general feel for things. (This is not the only place I am posting this link.)

This segment is less than 5000 words, and just shy of 10 pages long, consisting of the prologue and a portion of Chapter One. If you do read it, the only thing I ask is that you complete the short survey at the end. This will give me information I can use to improve future drafts.

Thank you in advance for the time.

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Link to Story Excerpt Here

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Link to Post-Reading Survey Here

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i think cleo as a lifer is so wonderful with their skins ❤️

most lifers will slowly shift their skins from green to yellow to read as the series progresses, even just eyes or hair. CLEO THOUGH..

when theyre on their green life, thats when theyre human. red blood courses through their veins, and thats when theyre healthy, human. they may be a little sarcastic, but hey, theres no blood-lust! they look alive: bright skin, with healthy reddish-pink undertones

and then yellow. they have the appearance of someone climbing the steps to the doors of death. their skin is waxy; still human, but just barely. theyre holding on to their last string of life and its slowly being cut. their blood no longer flows as freely as it did.

and then their red skin. thats when she turns green. theyre on their red life, and thats when their skin is a patchwork of varying shades of green. that string they tried to hold on to is what they used to sew their skin together, to hold it together, for one last chance at redemption. it never does really work out though, does it?

anyway yeah i dont watch cleo i just think theyre neat

Sprinkling in amnesia plots:

My love’s mind is delicious as fuuuuck!!!

SIDE-EYE AT THE KING SOOPERS….

in a street fight, it’s important to watch out for the lanky, wiry types. they never get tired and have unreal pain thresholds. and they can easily turn a fight into a scrap. a scrappy fight comes down to who can tolerate the most pain before curling up into a (mostly un) protective ball, therefore favoring the lanky, scrappy type. dislocated shoulders and broken ankles don’t slow them down, nor busted jaws. your best hope is a chokehold. 

I think about this as a lanky, wiry type in crusty camo pants gives me the side eye in King Soopers. he’s older, sure. 50s maybe. but he’s got a scar on his right cheek that looks like a Nike swoosh, and mouthful of empty gums where there should be teeth, so I turn my eyes downward and run with my groceries to the car….

Okay guys I’m bored and I wanna write so I want you all to give me ideas and I’ll write them for you.

They can be fanfics but also short stories your pick. I do not care BUT no smut. I’m not ready to get into that yet👍