#a soft wrongness

[annemarieyeretzian]

Things I was grateful for in March 2025: A funny card from my mom, TATTLY animal kingdom tattoos, a final trip to the San Diego Zoo before my pass expired, chocolate vanilla swirl soft serve, Welly bravery bandages, Sun Bum Cool Down aloe vera and lotion, a Rifle Paper Co. notebook, a trip to Hauser & Wirth with Belle, Salt & Straw Peanut Butter Brownie Cereal Puffs ice cream, Frostbeard Studios’ limited run Tall Tales candle, an Emi Jay scrunchie in Counting Sheep, A Soft Wrongness art print, The Narrowing by Dr. Alexandra Shaker, a birthday ribbon bought for me by Andy and a sweet birthday card from Andy, a trip to the SFMoMA with Andy (we got a discount on our tickets because the woman who sold them to us liked our makeup), LUSH Pineapple Facial Wash, tiny TATTLY tins, Shake Shack sunset lemonade and veggie burger, a Get Bullish FUCK YES YOU GLORIOUS BITCH keytag, a trip to the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk to go mini-golfing with my family, a giant vegan corndog, and a strawberry-pineapple Dole Whip float.

[murakamijeva-muza]

©asoftwrongness

[wishlisted]

“Homebody” collage print from A Soft Wrongness

[thekidsfromyestergay]

Just saw a video like "um actually rocky horror isn't good queer representation because frank sexually assaults janet" girl he kills and eats people. It's called the rocky HORROR picture show not the rocky cute gay rep tw t-slur picture show

[teto414]

hello chat i started persona 5 in august... was promptly hit by an akechi curse which lined up with when i started drawing again funny enough.

many more akechi drawings to come, consider this a warning

[soulsforsales]

Jason Todd head canons

Because I love that man<3

Jason always sleeps on the side of the bed closest to the door because if danger ever arrives, he wants it to find him first.

He reads to you. A lot. Sometimes it's sweet, mostly it's to annoy you when you don't give him attention. (He would read something like, "And thus she disappeared into the dark abyss to find her lover", aloud just to add, "but my lover won't shut down their laptop for me." Insert a pout.)

He says the most romantic things at the most random moments. (You could be sitting across the room, reading, while he sits at the table cleaning his guns. He would stop, look up, and go, "I don't think my life truly began until I met you." Then go back to cleaning like nothing happened. )

He offers to buy you anything you even look at for too long. (You two could be on an evening walk, and while he shuffles for something in his pockets, he realizes you've been staring at someone's pet dog for a long while with a smile, and he just goes, "Do we want it?" Simple. Plain. You stare, "I am sure that's someone's pet, Jay." He smirks, "I could arrange something." You roll your eyes, laugh, "Shut up.")

When he says, "I'll do anything for you," he means it. And not just the big things. Not just "I would die for you," "I would live for you," "I would build a house from scratch for you." No, even the small ones. (Because the first time you ate a chocolate-dipped waffle, you looked like you'd just tasted heaven and won't stop gushing about how delicious it was. The next morning? Jason is learning how to cook the exact same thing from a YouTube video at 6 in the morning. And when you ask him "why," he shrugs nonchalantly and goes, "I just like to see you happy.")

Jason's utterly, loveably clueless of how devastatingly handsome he is. The most normal things he does are so attractive and turn you on, and he has absolutely no idea. (He hangs around the house shirtless with damp hair like it's no big deal while you're just dying inside. You could be climbing this man like a tree, and he still won't get it. You could be on top of him - so fucking gone - and he's like, "You really think I'm hot?" You're in disbelief. "Jason, I want to sit on your face." He blushes, blushes, "...Oh. Wow. Okay.")

Also, this reminds me. He blushes. Like, a lot more than anyone would expect from the seemingly cold, terrifying Red Hood. (He blushes when you compliment him. He blushes when you call him your boyfriend/husband/partner. He blushes when you talk proudly of him to your friends or his family. He blushes when you kiss him, give him coffee, remember his favorite books or things, or treat him with decent human kindness. He blushes the most when you call him pet names (Jay, Jaybird, baby, babe, pretty boy, honey), anything other than "Jason," and he's got pink ears and flushed cheeks. Just overall shy and loves you too much for his own good.)

This is it for now because I fear if I keep writing, I'll never stop.

Enjoy!! I love y'all<3

[actually-mentally-ill]

[beaviu]

wrong table, right person .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖

synopsis . ❀ ݁ ˖ — yn finally agrees to a blind date to finally shut her bffs up about her tragic dating life. Dressed to impress but armed with zero expectations, she arrives at a café, scans the room, and sits across from a guy who checks every box: handsome yet cute, and surprisingly sarcastic in a way that keeps her on her toes. Only one problem: he’s not her date. Jake, a schools heartthrob laying low not to be caught by his fan girls, is just trying to enjoy a quiet cup of coffee when a stranger slides into the seat across from him and starts talking like they know each other. Intrigued — and a little bored — he plays along. What starts as a mistaken identity turns into a full-blown accidental date. And when yn finally realizes her mixup… she walks away mortified. But Jake? He can’t stop thinking about her. Now he’s determined to find her again — without revealing who he really is. As fate (or nosy mutual friends) brings them back together, their story becomes anything but accidental. Because sometimes, love finds you at the wrong table — at exactly the right time.

genre . ❀ ݁ ˖ — smau fluff lil angst strangers to lovers, jake loverboy arc??? love at first sight, he fell first she fell harder

status . ❀ ݁ ˖ — started (06/18/25)

warnings . ❀ ݁ ˖ — awful humor … cursing nd maybe more

taglist . ❀ ݁ ˖ — @astrobebba @rikchic @zoe1love @t1iqaa @enhanoa @yuyita-rosier @smolderingoasislegion @synamon @blvengene @urfavmelaninatedgeminii @cupidmiyu @naevisringring @swiftcityy @luhvletters @sumzysworld @w3willris3 @skepvids @enhastolemyheart @kimuranirisi @rairaiblog @teenagecheesecakereview @kuroosluthoe @firstclassjaylee @kiromiix @firstclassjaylee @splzq @yenienha @aernx @jakeznii @berryzoo @haechsworld @mochamvgz @thea-herondale @ilovewonyo @aethersluvrr @soona-huh @vampjakey @wdwbts101 @slvdsjjk @dearmynayeon @rikidaze ( comment or send an ask !! 🩶 )

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

♬⋆.˚ PROFILES — roblox feins :: d1 partiers

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ💿་༘࿐ chapters ::

001 arranged marriage date

002 not so ready | ++ written

003 mr basic | ++ written

004 u snooze u lose

005 siri play into you by ari | ++ written

006 petition to kick kai out

007 loser but in a good way?

008 silent or silenCED

009 fate works in the wildest ways | ONLY written

010 2man coming soon!

011 double dare u to wave

012 #doublethetrouble

013 pls donate

014 code red

015 ..

016 ..

[softvalentines]

thinking about farm boy!clark kent who tells his ma he’s just helpin’ you load up them peaches you picked from the orchard into the back of his truck, when in realityyyy he’s got you straddling his lap in the cab, sundress hitched up to your waist, bouncing slow and syrupy on his cock while he clutches your hips and tries to fuck up into you with these desperate little grunts, forehead tucked into your neck like he’s ashamed of how good it feels.

more on this here <3

[curiouslymyown]

Regulus bought James his first bouquet of flowers and he cried right into them

[starkspi]

From "Managerial Liberties" on AO3 by @miribalis (where they collect fallen angels like shiny Pokémon at the hotel), it makes me really happy (and has my heart).

[wishlisted]

“Almighty God” collage print from A Soft Wrongness

[livecrow]

Gundog!Soap's errand gets derailed when he catches your scent.

A retriever "retrieves" a plump bird.

Shifter/Hybrid Dark!Soap x fat reader

(cw: kidnapping)

Soap’s popping down to the shops.

He just needs to pick up an ingredient for dinner last minute. Ghost isn’t home yet, so he’s off the lead. Unsupervised. Normally, they’d get the messages together, but he only needs one thing. He could manage it. It wouldn’t be more than a wink.

But as he mills about, he can’t help feeling off.

Like he really is a dumb dog wandering around without his owner, his lead might as well be dragging on the floor behind him, collecting lint and stray bread ties—

It’s turning into one of those days where he feels far more mutt than man. 

Without Ghost’s firm hand grounding him, the place is a cacophony of input. Too many smells, too many sounds, too many colors, too much movement—all melding together into a murky emulsion of stimulus under the glaring LEDs. 

He squints down the vast row of isles for longer than he’ll admit.

Eeigit.

He should have written a note.

Thought he could have remembered one bleedy thing. Ye dinnae need a list for one thing—

Feeling frustrated and dafty, he resigns himself to traipsing down each aisle and hoping something jogs his memory. Pride wouldn’t let him call up Lt. He’d never hear the end of it. He’s a birddog for chrissake, proper braw at findin’ things—when he knows what he’s fuckin’ looking for. 

Least he can skip the sundries. He knows that much. Soap’s more than happy to avoid the detergent aisle. Stuff is bowfin. Stings his nose, makes his heid ache.

Lot of good his heid was anyway, feeling fuzzy, like it was packed with cotton. Might as well be. Nothin’ else between his ears. Certainly not the one fuckin' thing he pulled on his gutties and left the house for—

He let's loose an irritated huff and it's probably a bit too close to a growl than is wise.

Soap's trying to make good time, but he's a solid four isles in and hasn't had any luck. Eventually, he finds himself staring down a sea of tins. Fruit and veg, beans, and the sort. His eyes scanned the labels, but even readin' was a real Herculean task when he's feeling so out of sorts.

The canine part of him can't be convinced deciphering rows of little lines and squiggles is a proper use of his time. Especially when he could be usin' his nose instead.

Some wee bairn has starts greetin’ a few aise down.

—Green beans, peas, sliced carrots, corn, diced potatoes. Nae, that wasn't it—

....who in their right mind buys tinned tatties?

A passing trolley is making an awful racket. Discordant shrill squeaks and clunks of a stuck wheel scraped against his ear drums.

—It’s definitely not the asparagus—shites mingin’, and that’s fresh. Wouldnae faff about with a recipe that called for that. Cannae think how foul tinned would be… 

Soap sighs in exasperation. As he goes to abandon this aisle, he steps back to turn and bumps into something.

Soft. Soft, soft, softness presses into his hip—

The kind of softness that cradles, that molds around him. Softer than any of his toys. Soft an’ cozy as his own bed, maybe—nae, softer. His bed didn't have the same give, the same wobble. It was a softness that sent a literal shiver up his spine, saliva pooling in his mouth. That smell—

Not something, someone then.

An incidental collision, a bird had been trying to slip by him just as he stepped backwards.

The touch was there and gone in a second but he was mournful for its absence. The scent lingered at least, soothed the whine that crawled into his throat. There was no artifice to it, no acrid chemical edges that came with any fragrance found in a bottle.

You had actually managed to catch him off guard. The shiver that rattled through him began with a slight jolt of surprise at the two of your union. He must have been more out of it than he thought, he hadn't even noticed anyone else in the aisle. He'll never get used to being startled, but he wouldn’t hold that against you.

“Oh, sorry,” you muttered apologetically as you stepped back, embarrassment coloring your face. The contact clearly ruffled your feathers a bit.

Soap’s mouth shuts with an audible click, he hadn’t realized his lips were parted. He hurriedly swallows a completely unadvisable pant in your direction.

“Nae bother, hen,” he blinks. Finally finding his human voice, responding like he's supposed to when he's out and about on two legs. It’s a little breathier, a beat later than he should have responded, lower too. There's a rasp there that chafes the very air. 

...Maybe his head wasn't packed with cotton.

Maybe it was your soft, downy feathers that was muddling him up, making itself a sweet little nest in his cranium—

The bird sends him a polite, restrained smile as it scurries off.

His world narrowed, like he was watching through a spyglass. Or was it a scope? Regardless, everything else but you dissolved into blur, even his peripheral was swallowed up. Framed you in a vignette. Every tiny aspect of the minute interaction seared painlessly into his mind.

A pretty, fat partridge.

Wandering too close.

Game like that, ambling by all round and plump, right under his snout? Feathers close enough they almost tickle his nose—

It's instinct, ya ken?

Mind, for a dog that retrieves quarry, it’s in his nature. Cannae help it anymore than the shade of his coat. So, is it the dog's fault then, when he lunges? Snatches the bird up, into his warm mouth? Firm and soft all at once. The delicate control from a pup that can cradle a raw egg without fracturing the shell. When he brings it back to his master, tail waggin’ as he’s done a hundred other times?

Nae. Noone’d blame him.

He can already practically feel the pantomime thumping of your frantic heartbeat in his mouth—echoing his own excited pulse. 

Soap’s keen eyes never left his prey, even as your back was foolishly to him. His hind paws were already ahead of his brain, he followed, trailing at a distance. Stalking.

Thing should know better, he might have been a wolf. You’d have waddled straight into it's gaping maw, mistake the canines for stalactites and his tongue for a cozy spot to lay your little head.

But no, he’s no wolf. He’s safe. Won't take a bite out of you. He's a good boy— 

Good dog.

Bird dog. A Gordon Setter, Si says.

A jack of all trades, proficient at tracking, pointing, and retrieving. A soft-mouth breed. That’s very important. Most dogs cannae do what he can. Pick up a bird without pricking it. Ghost has been working with him, trainin’ him up. Helping him be more patient, learn new tricks.

Your scent—it was so hard to describe, but he luxuriated in it, nose twitching. It was warm, but not torrid. Sweet, but not cloying. Rich, but not heavy—

Familiar, somehow. Like a childhood lovey. Cheek-worn and supple as a lamb's ear. 

He’s struck by a piercing déjà vu.

It should have confounded Soap—but it didn’t. It just was. The strange mix of familiarity and unfamiliarity that shouldn’t normally coexist. He didn’t know you, nae. But it felt like he should. Maybe he’d seen you in a dream? Some sticky remnant from a past life? Nothing else could explain the strength of the reaction that gripped him by the scruff. Commanded him to “fetch”.

...He’s doin’ so well. Being so, so careful—game’s normally still, after all. Not wriggling about anymore. Is much more effort to control his grip on a bird thas tryin' to fly away.

Thing squealing like a squeaky-toy doesn’t help, zaps somethin' in his brain, even though he’s hardly pressing. Ghost will look at you an’ see there’s no teeth marks on you. He’s being good. Knows better. Not even a tiny nibble. 

Soap's so pleased.

Only wish he'd had his tail out, so he could articulate his excitement properly.

He’ll take you home and keep you. Rest a heavy paw on you when he wants you to stay put. Carry you round the house with him. Share his food with you. Show you his other toys. Only roughhouse gently, like he would a puppy. Bat you around a bit. Paw at you real gentle like. This soft, living squeaky-toy that he can nap with. Even let you nest in his own bed, tucked under his chin. He’d only ever mouth at you gently, you'd learn you wouldn’t have to fear his teeth. He’d rasp his tongue over you, help you preen yer pretty feathers.

He ached to sigh happily against you, rut his face against you. Wanted all the rest of his sighs to be against you, pressed into your skin. Nose at your crown, in your soft neck, on your squishy belly. He’s curious where on you that scent would be the strongest.

Ghost will be so proud when he sees, when he proudly lays you at his boots—

You'll like his owner. He'll pet you real nice. Ghost always knows the right spot, even before you do. Thoughtful.

So thoughtful that he won't even mind that he'll have to sort something else out for dinner.

[fauxparadoxx]

Muscles and Midterms: A Love Story with a Side of Obsession - Himbo Yandere (male bimbo) x Nerd Reader

You’re halfway through annotating your third textbook when the dorm room door rattles open—without a knock. You don’t need to look up. You know the footsteps. You know the cologne. You know the way your air shifts when he enters.

Chase.

Broad as a linebacker, tall enough to blot out the afternoon sun filtering through your window, and sporting the same dopey grin he always does when he sees you. His tank top barely counts as fabric. His arms are glistening. His eyes—blue like empty sky—scan your desk, your laptop, your face.

“You’re still studying?” he asks, like it’s a crime. “Baby, you know your brain’s sexy, but I miss you. Like, miss you hard.”

You sigh. “We have finals next week.”

He frowns. Not because he’s mad. Because he genuinely doesn’t understand why organic chemistry matters more than cuddling on his absurd beanbag couch.

“I made protein pancakes for you. With hearts on top,” he says, presenting a slightly mangled plate. “They’re kind of burnt, but that’s ‘cause I was thinking about your cute little furrowed brows. Couldn’t concentrate.”

“Chase,” you groan. But he’s already crouched beside you, one massive hand sliding behind your neck, the other cradling your wrist like you’re made of porcelain. His touch is gentle, reverent. Too reverent.

“You’ve been talking to that TA guy again,” he says. The grin fades.

Your heart hiccups. “He’s helping me prep for finals.”

Chase tilts his head, almost puppy-like. But there’s something off in the shine of his eyes. Something sharper.

“Baby,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours. “I would bench press the entire science faculty if they looked at you wrong.”

He squeezes your hand just a little too tightly. “Let’s drop this nerd stuff and run away. I’ll take you to Cabo. We’ll open a smoothie stand. You can name all the menu items after molecules. I’ll lift things and kiss you stupid.”

You laugh nervously. He laughs too—until he sees your hesitation.

Then he pouts.

“No one gets you like I do,” he whispers, gaze softening into desperation. “You like books, and I like you. Isn’t that enough?”

You think of his last ‘protective gesture’—the TA mysteriously getting reassigned, your lab partner developing sudden mono. Chase swears he had nothing to do with it. But you’ve seen him glare from across the quad. You’ve seen him break a vending machine with a single punch. And you’ve seen how he looks at you like you’re his whole world—his reward for thinking just hard enough.

You want to pull away. You want to stay.

He leans closer, breath warm against your temple. “Say you’re mine. Say it now, and I’ll carry you to class and make flashcards in glitter gel pens.”

He would. He really would.

And maybe—just maybe—you want him to.

[satoblue]

at midnight, when the house is quiet and the loneliness starts to settle in, you and your ex husband satoru fight the urge to call each other. it is a tug of war neither of you wins — because one of you always gives in at the end.

and it always starts with a flimsy excuse. either about the kids (which could’ve easily been a text) — or a casual (but not really) “just wanted to say goodnight” — like that ever made any real sense after everything. and yet, it works.

the two of you dance around each other like this — like it never really stopped hurting. like calling is a muscle memory you wouldn’t forget even on your deathbed. and sure, it was mutual — signing the papers, ending it — but moving on? it has been anything but.

the calls stretch, bleeding from minutes to hours — neither of you daring to be the first to hang up. bc there was a time you both used to stay up just to hear each other talk between laughter. now, it’s mostly quiet — but you stay on the line anyway. bc you both wonder if you made a mistake. if there was something you could’ve missed. if it really had to end this way. but no one says it — not out loud… but the thought lingers in the air, and it fills the silence.

satoru thinks about it often though. “it’s always been you. i’m sorry i messed it up.” but the words catch in his throat every time. so instead, he asks how your day was. or says something stupid like how he happened to pass by your favorite restaurant earlier (and maybe how you both should grab a bite sometime) — anything to stay in this moment just a little longer.

and it hurts. but you both know he’ll keep calling and that you’ll keep answering. bc no matter how far apart you two are, your hearts haven’t really gone anywhere. you’ll be there. waiting. no matter how long it takes. until it doesn’t have to be this way anymore. until he can get his ring back on your finger.

[jayktoralldaylong]

I love that the villain of Mouthwashing is not some outer space monster, it's not a science experiment broken free from a lab, it's not even a man with an obvious stereotypical mental illness.

It's a man with self esteem problems. A selfish cowardly man who so badly wanted to be praised for doing the bare minimum. A man who let envy bite through the hand that fed him. Cause sometimes the worst monsters are the ones that are the most human. And everyone died and suffered because one man (Curly this time) kept making excuses for that one weak link (Jimmy).

I also love that the crew in Mouthwashing didn't die because Jimmy went around hacking them up. They died because of his poor leadership decisions. The leadership that he so badly believed that he could do better than Curly.

- Anya was already stressed out from the assault and she was on the edge of a mental breakdown, Jimmy responded to that by shouting at her. 💀 Girl chugged down that pill bottle like it was water.

- Daisuke was an intern, he just did whatever he was told, eager to impress Jimmy. Jimmy says climb the vents, Daisuke climbed the vents. The vents collapsed on Daisuke.

Jimmy then tries to disinfect the wound with Mouthwashing, mind you Anya had earlier mentioned that using the chemical would only make wounds worse. Swansea reminded him of this. Jimmy ignores him. Proceeds to aggravate Daisuke's wounds so bad they Swansea has to mercy kill him.

- Swansea is an old man and 'life in prison' does not mean so much to him anymore. Plus, Jimmy has stepped on his last nerve. Swansea tries to kill Jimmy. Jimmy shoots him.

A domino of events that look like accidents, all avoidable if Jimmy listened, if Jimmy calmed down, if Jimmy did not act so darned arrogant and demanding all the darn time. And now he's left in a ship of corpses, but Curly is still there........

So Jimmy does what he does best.

He blames Curly (and then Jimmy finally has a mental breakdown).