Guys. Look at his fangs. I love him.
Your honor, I do not deny what he did... BUT LOOK AT HIM
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Sade Olutola

Origami Around

Kaledo Art

if i look back, i am lost
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
One Nice Bug Per Day

JVL
occasionally subtle
trying on a metaphor
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Three Goblin Art
will byers stan first human second
Xuebing Du

Andulka
Keni
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Show & Tell
art blog(derogatory)
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from South Korea
seen from Türkiye
seen from Mexico
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United Arab Emirates

seen from Mexico
seen from United States
seen from South Korea
@relliwritingbish
Guys. Look at his fangs. I love him.
Your honor, I do not deny what he did... BUT LOOK AT HIM
“Rainy Days Music”
Pairing: You x Introverted musician Genre: Slow-burn romance | Self-insert | College au | Fluff + slight angst + spice Content: Intimacy, mild angst, mentions of fame, supportive!reader, shy!boyfriend, emotional vulnerability, soft smut (nothing graphic) Summary: you’re a Fine Arts student. he’s the quiet boy you met in the music club room. You never meant to fall in love. but you did—and the world eventually noticed what you saw in him from the start.
You’re arguing again.
Of course you are. The air between you always crackles when you're in the same room, like flint and steel just waiting for the right spark.
“You are the most infuriating person I’ve ever met,” you snap, stepping in close. Too close. “Do you ever think before you speak?”
He smirked, but his eyes darkened. “Only when I’m undressing someone with my words.”
It’s not what he said—it’s how he said it. Like a challenge. Like a promise.
Your breath catches, but you hold your ground. “You wish.”
His fingers brush your jaw, just enough to make you aware of how warm his skin is.
“I do,” He whispered, voice low, threading with something dangerous. “More than I should.”
You both go still. Neither of you move, like animals in the dark sizing each other up. But something shifts. Something gives.
In a heartbeat, your mouths crash together—urgent, wild, teeth and heat and months of denied tension igniting all at once.
It’s not soft. It’s not sweet. It’s two storms colliding. Hands in hair, hips pressed hard, every kiss a battle neither of you plans to lose.
“You’re still insufferable,” you mutter against his lips.
“And you’re still pretending you don’t want me,” he growled, dragging you back in.
You hate how good it feels. You love how wrong it is. And you both know this was inevitable.
Enemies? Not after tonight.
You're lying on your back, side by side on the roof of their apartment, just like you have a hundred times before. The night sky stretches above, glittering with stars, but the only thing you can feel is the heat of them beside you.
Too close, not close enough.
You’ve been best friends forever. Everyone says it. Everyone assumes you’ll end up with someone else. But they don’t know about the quiet glances. The almost-touches. The way your heart stutters when he laughs at something only you say.
He shifts, propping himself up on an elbow to look at you. His eyes soften in the dark. “Can I ask you something?”
You hum in response, afraid to breathe too deeply.
“If I kissed you right now… would you hate me?”
Your heart stops. Just like that. Suspended in the silence between you and your best friend.
You turn your head to meet his gaze, and your voice is barely more than a whisper. You were afraid to say it, but now you're more afraid of keeping it quiet. “Try it and find out.”
And then he's leaning in.
It was tentative, reverent, like they’re terrified of ruining something sacred. The kiss is soft, slow, full of everything you’ve both been afraid to say. His fingers thread into yours like muscle memory.
When he pulls back, your foreheads rest together. His voice is raw when he whispers, “I've wanted to do that for years.”
You laugh, breathless. “Took you long enough.”
And in that moment, on a quiet rooftop, wrapped in moonlight and history, you both realize the truth.
You never really were just friends. You were just waiting for the courage to admit it.
It starts like it always does.
He’s over for dinner, laughing with your brother in the kitchen, that easy confidence dripping off him like cologne. You try to ignore him. Want to act like his presence doesn’t set your nerves on fire, but the second your eyes meet across the room, everything stills.
He looks at you like he shouldn’t. Like he knows it. Like he doesn’t care.
Later that night, the house is quiet. Everyone else is asleep. You walk into the hallway and nearly run into him—shirt untucked, hair messy, like he’s just stepped out of a dream you’re not supposed to be having.
He freezes when he sees you. You both do.
“You should be in bed,” he says, voice low, husky.
“So should you.”
A beat. A breath. And then his eyes drag slowly down your body, linger at your lips. “We both know this is a dangerous game.”
“Then why are you still standing here?” Your heart starts pounding, a little too loudly.
He steps forward. Just enough to make your back hit the wall. His hand brushes your waist. His mouth is close enough that your skin tingles. “Because I’m tired of pretending I don’t want you.”
You inhale sharply, caught between thrill and fear. “My brother would kill you.”
“Then let’s not give him a reason to find out.”
When he kisses you, it’s reckless.
It's hungry and desperate, months of restraint snapping all at once. His hands explore with familiarity and hesitation, like he’s memorized every inch of you in his imagination and now finally dares to touch.
It’s a secret. It’s a mistake.
But neither of you is stopping.
Not tonight.