#ANYWAY this would be something different and give me a break from writing. while still being creative :3

[bentosnackbox]

“Girl, just let me know / We can take it slow.”

lyrics: “Break from Toronto” *(2013 – PARTYNEXTDOOR

part one

MENTIONS : situationship, mentions of sex, gojo, suguru and shoko r also in the same age range, unprotected sex, pussydrunk!megumi, backshots, ghosting, alcohol, blunts, partying, college AU, fratboy megumi kinda..?, sexting, cursing, athlete megumi, pro basketball player megumi.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+ IN THIS AU !!

DISCLAIMER : MDNI ( i’m not responsible of what you see on the internet, but still cmon guys let’s not lmao)

guys this is my first time writing a fic… like ever!! so don’t expect it to be good i’m still working on it lol.

also if u see me make a grammar mistake it’s cuz english isn’t my first language, so there will be some mistakes sadly 🫩

i plan on writing more fics if this blows up or i get comments n likes asking for more… anyways !!

there will be more parts cuz i’m too lazy too put everything in one part lmao sorry

master list: part one, part two, part thee

12 PM CAMPUS NEWYEARS PARTY | January 1st 2025

“you like that? you like when i hit it like that? yeah i know you love this dick baby girl.”

i let out a moan as he hits that sweet g spot religiously over and over again knowing how much i love it.

“who got the best dick girl? c’mon talk to me baby.”

“you do gumi!!” i scream out moaning while he gives me the best backshots ever.

“good girl” he groans as he comes inside earning a moan from me.

just as i’m about to come on his dick i hear a knock on the bathroom door with satorus voice coming through

“what y’all doing in there? c’mon out”

i look at megumi with wide eyes and put my panties back up with my mini skirt, not even bothering to clean up.

he pulls his boxers and purple jeans back up.

i turn to megumi “what the fuck do we do now?”

“relax baby girl s’ not like we’re in a relationship anyway, we’re just friends making each other feel good.”

just friends.

just friends.

just friends?

oh so this meant nothing to him? i was just one of his side bitches?

i get it we’re best friends since 6th grade and have been inseparable ever since

fucking each other wasn’t anything new

but the first time we actually did it was in the first year of college at his house

his girlfriend of a month cheated on him and he found out over a leak of her fucking his best friend yuji got sent around

i came over to help him get over her and watch a movie

little did i know i would get my pussy eaten

also i knew megumi was gorgeous and a player but damn this shit actually felt real for once

atleast for me.

“yeah right, um just friends” i say snapping back into reality as i notice i zoned out

he gives me a smirk and kiss on the cheek before finally opening the door

satoru is standing infront of the door, drink in hand waiting for us to open up

“the fuck were yall doing?”

“none of ur business” megumi says smirking and rolling his eyes shoving him out the way while dragging me behind him

we walk over to the drink bar and sit down on the stools

“watcha wanna drink baby?”

baby? after he said we’re just friends? and he says it like it means something

am i going fucking crazy????

“a piña colada please” i give him a fake smile, not like he can tell a difference from what’s fake and real

he’s rubbing my thigh up and down as we wait for the drinks

“gumi?”

“yeah baby?”

“i gotta use the toilet real quick”

“aight baby don’t take too long tho”

i never came back tho.

i ran back to my dorm in 6 inch heels tripping on the way there crying all the way there

mascara smudged, lashes falling off, wig a little lopsided

what the actual fuck ?? like cut the cameras bitch

who does this nigga think he is?

i block his number on messages, block his ig and twitter

best thing to do right now is focus on myself and keep my life clean

after all it was a new year’s resolution of mine.

______

06:00 PM talking with my roommate about the situation to recover | January 19th 2025

“omg he’s such a bastard”

i nod sobbing as i eat my ben and jerry’s ice cream while gossiping with my bestie a.k.a shoko!

we’re having our monthly gossip rant session in our matching bonnets, doing face masks while eating ice cream

i haven’t heard from him since the night it happend prob cuz i blocked him lol

and maybe that’s for the better.

for both of us

he isn’t around campus much ever since he got a deal to get signed to the memphis grizzlies in summer of last year

the only times he’s around is when there’s party’s or a holiday coming up.

“and he proceeded to say ‘we’re just friends’ baby you deserve someone better. need me to beat his ass?” shoko said ready to throw hands

i giggle “girl no it’s okay really-”

i get interrupted by a text message notification

unknown number

| can we talk now?

| are you done being mean?

no. fucking. way.

i stare at my phone with wide eyes not even listening to shoko rant about how annoying her classmates are and she notices

“everything okay y/n?”

i show her the message

“it’s megumi. i recognize his texts from a mile away”

but

how tf did he get my number.

shoko sees my anxiety kicking in again by the way i’m biting my nails right now

“calm down y/n, just ghost him it’ll work out trust me”

i nod ignoring his text messages

i ignored him.

oh i tried ignoring him.

but turns out he’s down bad

like the yearning type.. yup

______

10:18 AM on the following Monday | January 22nd 2025

i’ve been getting non stop no caller id calls

like non. fucking. stop

it’s crazy

new messages came through

unknown number

| stop fucking ignoring me deadass

| that’s fucking annoying.

fuck.

i’m in the middle of a lecture and he’s texting me?

shit i gotta think quick

“calm down y/n, just ghost him it’ll work out trust me”

and so i ghost him for the next 2 days until…

______

06:26 PM Wednesday in my dorm | January 24th 2025

shoko is out on a work dinner

and i’m bed rotting in my bonnet watching love island on my macbook

“they did my girl huda so fucking dirty!!”

i say as i’m eating my ben and jerry’s cookie dough ice cream again

*i get another message*

unknown number

| you haven't been texting me or calling me at all

| what the hell's your problem?

shit

wait can he see that i read his messages?

since shoko isn’t here to stop me i decide to text back

| i need some space

| from everyone, it's not just you

read 06.38 pm

he texts back almost in the blink of an eye

| SPACE????

| bitch if u wanted space you should've been an astronaut

| answer the goddamn Phone when i call you.

shit he’s mad.

NOTE : guys comment if y/n should pick up or ghost lmao

i enjoyed making this kinda fun tbh

again first time making a fan fic so don’t judge ok..

[musical-chick-13]

Tfw I was GOING to write a fic for my event, but maybe I make a parody song instead.

[xazse]

I don’t know about the anon but I freaked out when I saw the new fic. It was so good 🤤. I love how you’re giving us so much content nowadays and I’m here for it! Anyway, I was hoping that maybe you could figure something out for snow leopard Gojo and cat hybrid reader (him as a cat jest feels right) ? Imagine Satoru having this in mind ever since he saw you, I mean, big cats mate practically for the solo reason of breeding ?and he's no different- having many pups is a necessity to prove you're his and the best way to show how much he adores you! He’d be very protective about you while you’re carrying, never stepping away from your side and he’s become so needy too because you smell so divine with all those hormones to him.

It makes me think back to that kitty tiger fic where he would lick her and I see this as a continuation of short!

Well, not really since I mentioned a leopard but honestly if you did a tiger and really wrote it as a continuation l'd be thrilled. Do you think you’ll write more because I’d love some Satoru tiger/leopard fics. Have a nice day lovely 💕

Notes: SORRY ITS SO SHORT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT, I HAD FUN WRITING IT!!

Warnings: Pantysniffing + breeding + hybrids + little hybrids + pregnancy + overprotective!Satoru

Pairings: SnowLeopardSatoru + KittyHybrid!Reader

Oh yes of course SnowLeopard!Satoru was in love the day Suguru brought you home, you smelled of that icky place but eventually when you got comfortable he began cleaning you of that filthy, licking you everywhere to ensure you smelled exactly like him.

After scenting you to smell just like the touching started, it starts small with Satoru laying you in his lap or letting you stroke his hair until it got even more physical he was having you bent over balls deep inside of you, this became a daily occurrence where he’d pump you full load after load.

The leopard loved you so much, of course when you started showing signs of morning sickness he was so damn excited, well when he had said that you gave him the nastiest look ever but he had to phrase it as he was excited for the baby!

The first few months were absolute hell for you, Satoru could not and would not leave you alone, he insisted mining everything and anything with you.

You needed a shower? He’s in there helping you get in places your cute little belly prevents even in public he’s always making sure your near him, he keeps a tight grip on your arm so he doesn’t lose you.

He also keeps close because you smell, so fucking good, it drives him damn insane, he keeps you in his lap for hours just sniffing your neck or even having your legs wrapped around his head so he can smell your cunt.

He loves getting into your dirty laundry and smelling your panties, who cares if you catch him jerking off with it around his fat cock, he’ll look you dead in your face as you slowly close the door to let him have that privacy, he can’t fuck your pussy like he used to anymore so this’ll do.

When the babies come it’s so hectic around the house, you and Satoru are constantly chasing the little ones around, they don’t give either of you a break some days. It’s so cute to see how they look exactly like Satoru in some ways, two of them have his hair and the third one looks exactly like you, a carbon copy is what she is.

Their little ears and tail swish behind them so freaking cute, the amount of photos Satoru has in his phone is astonishing, he also posts them on his instagram always, everytime, Suguru also does his hair share with helping with them when you and Satoru are stressed. He’s like their uncle and it’s so adorable to see them braiding his hair or him reading to them.

When you finally get alone time, Satoru’s fucking you like he wants to put even more babies in you, the way he’s groaning is so damn loud it pairs with the way you sound when both of you meet in the middle, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t fucking back on him just as hard, it’s already been multiple orgasms and you’re both still going at it.

[aleksatia]

Don't know if you will accept this one because not everyone is comfortable with writing for pregnancy trope. But i will try. 😭

Imagine the reader is pregnant, and for some reason, she can't get to the hospital or opted for giving birth at home, and the labor starts with just the reader and the boys, how would they react? (Zayne would go well, I guess lol)

Anyway, I gotta say I am obsessed with your writing ✍️ 🤤🥰

It honestly took me forever to get this request done, but here it is—finally! I ended up splitting it into two parts, including a bit of my own experience with childbirth.

The main challenge was that, even when extreme, birth tends to follow a similar pattern. I didn’t want to lean into unnecessary drama, so I approached it differently: wrote one complete mini-fic and turned the rest into short drabble-style sketches, which I’ll be posting here.

You can read more about Xavier/MC’s story here. I chose him simply because I hadn’t written anything focused on him in a while—and it just flowed (from pen... well, keyboard) that way.

CT/WT: birth scene, childbirth, emergency birth, home birth, water birth, airplane birth, snowstorm birth, intense emotional content, partner support, soft!men, vulnerable!men, protective partner, found family, twins, hurt/comfort, emotional intimacy, fatherhood, new dad energy, birth fic, drabble collection, first-time dad, emotional whump, soft smutless intimacy, love confession, trauma comfort, birth complications, raw vulnerability, medical emergency, no smut just feelings, domestic intensity. Headcanon!!!

🖤 SYLUS — The Moment He Realizes It’s Up to Him (Home Birth, Unprepared Conditions)

The Second It Clicks: You gasp. Double over. He’s at your side in a heartbeat. “Is it time?” You nod. Pain. Panic. Wet warmth. His blood freezes — then boils. No hospital. No doctor. No help. Just him.

His First Thought? “Fuck. No. Not like this. You deserve better.” Not chaos. Not uncertainty. Not cold floors and towels that aren’t sterile. He’s Sylus — he controls everything. But this? This is the one thing he can’t delay, buy, or dominate. It’s coming. Now.

Terror?Not for himself. For you. For the pain in your eyes, the grip of your hand, the sheer fragility of the moment. His entire being rallies like a war horn blaring inside his chest. “If the universe put this in my hands, then it’s getting the best fucking performance of my life.”

What he does first:He lowers you carefully to the bed. Kisses your knuckles, even as he’s barking quiet orders into a phone no one picks up. His voice is deep, steady. But his heart is galloping. He never lets you see it. Never lets his fear break through. You deserve certainty, and he’ll give it to you — even if he’s unraveling at the seams.

What He Says:“Kitten. Look at me.” You do. Eyes wide. Brave. Terrified. “You trust me?” You nod. “Then breathe. I’ve got this. I’ve got you. I always have.”

What He Feels:You’re vulnerable. And you’re still the strongest creature he’s ever seen. He wishes he could take the pain. Rip it from you and carry it in his own bones. But this is your war. And all he can do is be the sword and the shield. “Don’t you dare break on me, baby. You’re almost there. We’re almost there.”

And when you cry out —Something inside him shatters. Not weakness. Not panic. Love. The kind that could burn cities. The kind that makes gods kneel. He wipes your brow with trembling fingers, and for the first time in years, he whispers: “Please. Just let me do this right.”

The First Push:Your nails dig into his forearm. Hard. He doesn't flinch. He leans in, forehead almost touching yours. “That’s it. Breathe through it. I’ve got you.” Your body trembles. He sees it — the pain, the fear, the fight. And God, he’s never loved you more than in this bloody, imperfect, holy moment.

The Next Contractions Hit:They're relentless. And so is he. He’s on his knees beside the bed now, sleeves rolled, jaw locked, hands steady but heart breaking. “You're doing so good, kitten. So fucking good. I'm right here. Ride it. Ride it out. You're the strongest thing I've ever seen.” He keeps talking because your cries are the sound of his soul ripping open. He wants to scream with you — but he doesn’t. He can’t. You need him iron-clad.

When the Baby Crowns:For a split second, he freezes. The sight undoes him. It's real. His voice catches. He swallows hard. Then acts. Fast. He speaks softly but firmly. “Almost there. Just one more, baby. Give me everything you’ve got.”And when you do — when you scream and bear down and sob his name — the world shifts.

The Birth:The baby slips into his hands. Warm. Fragile. Alive. He catches it like it’s made of light. For a moment, he just stares. His lips part, but no words come. This. This is his child. His hands are shaking now. Bloody, trembling. But when the baby cries? He lets out the most ragged breath of his life. “You did it,” he whispers, eyes locked on yours. “You fucking did it.” He ties and cuts the cord. Precise. Careful. Reverent. Wraps the baby in a soft towel and places it in your arms. And then? He just watches. Like the world cracked open to show him something he never thought he was worthy of.

When the Medics Finally Arrive:He doesn’t move from your side. Doesn’t let go of your hand. The men in white bark questions. He answers in clipped growls, still on alert. They try to move in too fast, and he snaps, “She’s fine. You move when she says so.” The room is full now — but all he sees is you.

Afterward, When It’s Quiet Again:He sits beside you, one hand on your leg, the other gently stroking the baby's tiny back. His shirt is soaked, his knuckles still stained, his eyes rimmed red. He doesn’t speak for a long time. Just breathes in the shape of you. Watches you like you might disappear.

And then he says it, raw and low:“I’ve killed for less than the pain you just went through.”“You scare me,” he adds, almost smiling. “Because I didn’t think I could love you more than I already did.”A pause. His voice softens. “Turns out, I was wrong.”

How He Is With You After: He won’t leave the room for the first 24 hours. Won’t sleep unless you sleep. Won’t speak unless it’s to you. Every time you shift, he’s there. Water. Blankets. Warm palms. He touches you like you’re made of fire and stardust. And maybe you are. You brought life into the world — and now he’s a man who’s seen a goddess bleed and survive.

What’s Changed? Everything. You’re no longer just the woman he worships. You’re the mother of his child. And he’s never been more dangerous, more devoted, or more in awe. And when he finally holds the baby in his arms, whispering something in a voice only the stars can hear, you catch the look on his face — as if the king of the underworld just met the one soul that could make him believe in heaven.

🎨 RAFAYEL — Water Birth Gone Off-Script (But You're Still His Masterpiece)

The Second It Clicks:You gasp. A real one. Water shifts behind the door. He hears it — not the splash, but the silence that follows. Brush mid-stroke, he freezes in the studio. Palette still in hand. Then he hears you call his name. Soft. Urgent. Different. His heart misses a beat. Oh. Oh, fuck. It’s time.

His First Thought?“Cutie, not yet — where’s the damn midwife?” This was supposed to be smooth. Music, candles, soft towels, help. He practiced. Took notes. Learned everything. But you’re contracting, you’re gripping his arm like a lifeline, and that carefully prepared plan just drowned.

Terror?Only for a split second. Then? It turns into motion. His version of war. No armor. Just bare skin, water, and wild love. He tears off his silk shirt, drops to his knees beside the tub, and cups your face. Eyes blazing. Smile trembling. “You’ve got this. I’ve got you. Let’s be legends, sweetheart.”

What He Does First:Lights dimmed. Calm playlist turned off. That’s not helping. He speaks instead. Constant stream of velvet and madness — anything to keep you in your body. He checks your breath, strokes your arms, pours warm water down your back. He holds your thighs when the cramping gets too much. “Breathe, Cutie. Moan if you need to. Scream. I’ll scream with you.”

What He Says:“You’re the most divine creature I’ve ever painted and you’re not even trying right now.” “Do you know what it does to me — to see you bring life into the world? I’m ruined.” “I love you. You’re terrifying. It’s magnificent.” “I’m not ready, but I’m so ready. Are you ready, sweetheart?” He laughs and cries all at once. Classic Raf.

What He Feels:Absolute awe. Like watching a volcano give birth to the moon. You’re in pain, and he’d trade his soul to take it away —

But you’re also gorgeous. Power and surrender. Fury and grace. He watches you like a living epic, memorizing every second. And somewhere deep down: terror. Because he’s about to meet a little soul that already feels like the most important thing he’s ever waited for.

And When You Cry Out —He flinches like someone hit his body. Then kisses your forehead. Then your shoulder. Then your fingers. “I know, I know, my love. You can hate me right now. But when it’s over, you’re going to be a fucking goddess in my arms again.”

The First Push:He holds you. Literally. Behind you in the tub, your back pressed to his chest. Whispers in your ear like poetry, nonsense, love confessions. His hands steady your belly. His cheek presses to yours. “Push. With me. Right now. Pretend the stars are watching.”

The Next Contractions Hit:You sob. Scream. Curse. He laughs through tears. “That’s my girl. Go feral, baby.” He doesn't pretend it's easy. He matches the chaos. You scream louder? He screams louder. You sob? He hums a lullaby in broken Lemurian. And when you break? He stitches you back together with every ridiculous, poetic, stupidly beautiful word.

When the Baby Crowns:He feels it before he sees it — the shift in your breath, the way your body tenses like a storm breaking. “Cutie — he’s here. He’s really here.” He helps you lean forward, moves behind and then lower, one arm steadying you as he shifts to kneel in the water. And then he sees it — the beginning of everything. His voice is gone. His hands shake. But he stays.

The Birth:The baby slides into the water. Raf catches him like he’s catching a star falling into the sea. He brings him up gently, lets him cry, and then stares — completely undone. He places the baby on your chest with reverence. Then breaks. Just breaks. Weeps silently as he holds you both.

When the Medics Finally Arrive:He answers the door shirtless, soaked, with red-rimmed eyes and a feral look. “Too late,” he snaps. “She did it herself. I just got to be lucky enough to watch.” Then walks past them, back to the bathroom, because he’s not done looking at you.

Afterward, When It’s Quiet Again:You’re in bed. Baby asleep. Candles flickering low. Raf’s lying next to you, propped on an elbow, fingers lightly tracing invisible constellations on your arm. His voice is almost a whisper. “You made something I could never paint. Not with all the colors in the universe.”

Confession:“I used to think love was chaos. Fire. Tragedy.” He swallows. “But you — carrying him, birthing him — you made me believe in something bigger than all that. Something gentle.” Beat. “Still chaos. But now… now I want to live in it.”

How He Is With You After:He won’t stop touching you. Ever. Cheek pressed to your stomach. Hand around your ankle. Lips to your collarbone. He calls you his ocean, his cathedral, his everything. Gets jealous when the baby gets more attention, then sulks dramatically — only to melt the moment the baby yawns.

What’s Changed? He didn’t think he could love more than he already did. But now he’s ruined. Completely, gloriously yours. He paints you every day. He stares at the baby like a spell. And every night, he murmurs: “Cutie, I would live a thousand lifetimes just to land in this one with you.”

🛩️ CALEB — 35,000 Feet Up, When the World Falls Apart (And You’re the Only Thing That Matters)

The Second It Clicks:Your breath hitches. You shift. Then freeze. He knows your body too well — something is off. You whisper, "Caleb…" He looks at you. And in that one heartbeat, he knows. It’s happening. Here. Now. Too early.

His First Thought?“No.”Not like this. Not at cruising altitude. Not without equipment, backup, time. You were supposed to have two more weeks. He had a plan. A perfect one. And the baby just threw it out the emergency exit.

Terror?It brushes him. A ghost against the back of his mind. There’s a moment — sharp, almost blinding — where every instinct screams: get to the cockpit, take the controls, force the descent, get her to a hospital, make it stop. Not the birth — your pain. The helplessness. But Caleb is a fortress — fear doesn’t get through the walls. Not when you need him solid. Not when your breathing goes shallow and your fingers dig into his thigh. He shuts it out. Cold. Calculated. He stays. Right where you are. “Handle it.”

What He Does First: Turns to the nearest flight attendant — she’s pale, shaking. “Get blankets. Towels. Water. First aid kit. Everything. Now.”Then he takes your hand. Squeezes once. He shifts the cabin — clears seats, turns it into a command zone. Straps you in, kneels in front of you like you’re his entire mission.

What He Says:“Breathe.” “Look at me, not the chaos. Me.”“You're safe. I'm here. I’ll get you through this.”“No one’s going to touch you but me. You hear me?”Low, controlled. The voice of command — but laced with something raw. The kind of voice that means he’d rip this plane open and land it with his bare hands if he had to.

What He Feels:Failure. Because this wasn’t the plan. Because he let you on this plane, knowing the risks.  Because you’re in pain and there’s nothing he can shoot or order or carry to fix it.  But above that — something bigger. Something anchoring. You’re about to give him a child. His child. And he’s never been more terrified or more in love.

And When You Cry Out —He stops breathing. Just for a moment. Then grabs a wet cloth, wipes your forehead, presses his mouth to your knuckles. “It’s okay. I know. I know it hurts. Just hold on, love.” He doesn’t flinch when you scream. He braces for you. Becomes your wall.

The First Push: He helps you brace your legs. Talks you through it. Counts your breaths. His voice doesn’t shake. You’re gripping his shoulder like you want to break him — and if it helps, he wants you to. “Push. Right now. You can do it. I know you can.”

The Next Contractions Hit:They come fast. Brutal. You’re soaked in sweat, sobbing, slipping in and out of focus. He holds your gaze. Forces you to stay present. “Stay with me. Just me. Eyes on mine.” He’s not just commanding your body now. He’s anchoring your soul.

When the Baby Crowns:His jaw locks. There’s blood. Pain. A sound from you that breaks something in him forever. But then— “I see the head. One more. One big push, baby. Do it for me.”He’s never begged in his life. Until now.

The Birth:The baby slides into his hands — hot, wet, alive. He holds it like it’s a grenade and a prayer. He hesitates for a heartbeat, then moves on instinct drilled in from every medical video he obsessively watched in the weeks before. Wipes the face. Rubs the back. Hears that first cry. And his shoulders slump like he just survived a war. He lays the baby on your chest with military precision— But his hands are shaking. And his voice is gone.

When the Plane Lands:Paramedics are already waiting on the tarmac. The moment the wheels hit the ground, he’s on his feet, securing the baby, then lifting you into his arms — no hesitation, no discussion. Your body wrapped in his jacket, his grip unshakable. “She stays with me,” he tells them — low and final. He carries you down the stairs himself, eyes scanning every face like a soldier clearing a field. And when the medics move in, he doesn’t flinch — but he watches every hand. Every word. His eyes never leave you. He’s still on the battlefield.

Afterward, When It’s Quiet Again: The baby’s wrapped and asleep. You’re in a hospital bed now, monitors quiet, lights dim. Caleb sits beside you — still in his flight-worn clothes, hands resting on the edge of the mattress like he’s holding the line. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t blink. Just watches you breathe. As if any second, the universe might try to take you again.

Confession:“I don’t know how to do this part.” Soft. Almost a whisper. “I know war. I know strategy. I know how to keep you alive.”A pause. “But you just gave me everything, thirty-five thousand feet above the world. And I don’t know how to thank you for that.”

How He Is With You After: Hypervigilant. Keeps you warm. Fed. Rested. Checks the baby’s breath every ten minutes. Doesn’t leave your side — not even to sleep. Carries you to the bathroom if he has to. Barely talks. Just does.

What’s Changed? He always thought his job was to protect you. Now he knows — you are the reason he fights. You made life, in midair, with nothing but pain and instinct. He’s seen you soft. He’s seen you in love. Now he’s seen you divine. And no enemy will ever get close again. Not even turbulence. And definitely not labor at 35,000 feet — because he’s never letting you board a plane pregnant again. He’s already planning the next birth. Controlled environment. Ground-level. Walls. Doctors. No sky. No chaos. Just you, safe — the way you were always supposed to be.

🧊 ZAYNE — Snowcrest Emergency (Twins, a Storm, and You in His Hands)

The Second It Clicks:You’re at the stove, stirring a pot of mulled wine, the scent of cloves and orange peel curling through the wooden walls of the chalet. Snow presses against the windows like a soft white fist. Then something shifts. You freeze. One hand goes to the edge of the counter, the other to your belly. Your breath catches — once. Twice. Too sharp. Zayne looks up from the hearth, where he was stacking firewood. Sees your face. Sees your hands. His mind clicks into motion before you can speak. Contractions. Strong. Rhythmic. A month early. Twins. It’s happening. Now.

His First Thought?“No hospital. No OR. No neonatal equipment. Two infants. High-risk environment.” His mind races: What’s missing? What can he improvise? What matters most? You. He recalibrates in milliseconds. The plan has changed. You’re the plan now.

Terror?He doesn’t let it register. But for the first time in a decade, he feels his pulse spike without choosing it. This is not a patient. Not a clinical environment. This is you. And his hands — hands that saved hundreds — suddenly feel too slow, too human.

What He Does First:Takes control. Quietly, precisely. “Lie down. Left side. Pillows under your knees.” Gets gloves. Clean cloths. Lantern light. Wipes the counter. Boils water. Checks your pupils, your breath rate, heart rate. Starts counting contractions. Voice — steady as marble. “Vitals are within threshold. We’ll manage.” He doesn’t say "I’m scared." He sets his jaw and becomes the machine you need.

What He Says:“Cut the noise. Focus on me.” “Deep breath in. Hold. Now exhale slowly.” “You’re safe. I have you. Nothing’s going wrong under my watch.” And softer, almost like it slips out against his control: “You’re not doing this alone. I’m here.”Then quieter still, barely audible over your breathing— “I don’t want you to be afraid. Not with me.”

What He Feels:A depth of protectiveness so massive it short-circuits logic. He can’t afford emotion — so it burns quietly behind his ribs. Every sound you make, every twitch of pain — he catalogs it, files it, calculates it. But somewhere behind the math, something whispers: “These are my children. And she’s the one I never deserved.”

And When You Cry Out—He doesn’t flinch. But his jaw locks, and he moves faster. More towels. More warmth. Calmer voice. He adjusts your position, murmurs into your hair: “I know. I know, love. It hurts. You’re strong. You’re going to get them here, and I’m going to catch them. I promise.”

The First Push:““Push with the contraction. Not before.”He watches your breath, cues your muscles, syncs with your rhythm like surgery. You scream. He doesn’t blink. Just steadies your knee, keeps his voice low and close. “You’re doing it. This is the part that ends it. The worst is behind you.”

The Next Contractions Hit:They come harder, closer. You’re shaking. Your body starts to give. Zayne grips your hands, brings your forehead to his. “You’re not breaking. You’re giving life. Do it. I’m right here.” He says it like a command. But his voice catches.

When the Baby Crowns:It’s fast. First twin is anterior. Textbook. Zayne’s gloves are slick, but his hold is perfect. The baby slips into his hands — screaming. He wraps, clears, breathes. Then glances up at you, and — for half a second — his breath stutters. One down. One more.

The Birth (Second Twin):This one’s trickier. Breech. Zayne’s hands move with silent grace, guiding you, shifting your hips, protecting you from the risk. It’s intense. It’s dangerous. But he handles it like a master. The second baby arrives blue. He doesn’t panic. Just acts. Clears airway. Stimulates. Waits — cry. Only then does his chest move again.

When the Medics Finally Arrive:He meets them at the door. Calm. Precise. These are his colleagues — people he trusts. He listens to every reading, watches every movement. They confirm what he already knows: vitals are steady. No signs of immediate risk. He should transfer you. He planned to. But then you look at him — raw, pleading, exhausted. And he recalculates. “We’ll monitor here. Twelve-hour window. I’ll oversee everything myself.” He’s already wrapping you and the twins in fresh blankets, resetting the monitors. His voice is steady. His posture sure. But his hand doesn’t leave yours. He’s not just responsible. He’s personally invested. In this. In you. In all three lives now resting in his hands.

Confession:He speaks only when you touch his wrist. “I’ve never been this scared.” A beat. “And I didn’t let myself feel it. Until now.” Another pause. “You and them — you’re the only variables I can’t solve. And I think I’m okay with that.”

How He Is With You After: Meticulous. Attentive. Understated. Charts feed schedules. Tracks sleeping patterns. Never wakes you if he can help it. Takes night shifts. Warms bottles. Still quiet. Still reserved. But touches you more often now — almost absently. A thumb to your wrist. A hand at your back. Like he can’t not.

What’s Changed? Something in him has shifted — quietly, irreversibly. He was a man of logic. Now he’s a man of you. He doesn’t smile often — but when he looks at the twins, something in his eyes softens in a way he can’t quite explain. And every time you cry — from exhaustion, or joy, or pain — he presses a kiss to your temple and says, “Tell me what to fix.” Even if he knows he never could. Because he’ll try anyway. For as long as you’ll let him.

[hungrydata]

Ok so, ik I'm busy, but I can't NOT talk about the new episode. So...

SPOILER WARNING FOR EPISODE 5 OF THE AMAZING DIGITAL CIRCUS

I won't write an essay now, but holy gosh moly. This episode was great. And I hate that it ends with a cliffhanger. But it makes sense since Goose said that eps 5&6 were focused on both Jax & Ragatha, so they are very likely tied together (hopefully we don't have to wait another 6 months, but you also can't rush art of course)

I also don't want to break down the episode, there are people who can do that way better than me. I just wanna talk about some fun stuff.

First of all, I tried my best to figure out what everbody's saying here (Only Jax is subtitled in english, however the other two are as well in other languages, so I used them if I had difficulties with what they're saying):

everything I am not 100% sure about or was roughly translated via the different language subtitles, is written in brackets

JAX: I very much did not enjoy that one in the slightest. If we ever do anything even close to that again, I'm getting violent, and I'm going to kill Ragatha.

GANGLE: Uh... I... don't really think it [brought out the best in me], even if it [was the cause of my mask].

RAGATHA: Oh, I really do not think [I was that innocent at] that time, I [did release] (?) some things I normally never say.

I know that some of this is not accurate or something is missing, but it's really difficult to understand what Ragatha and Gangle are saying. Therefore if you know anything, help is very much appreciated!

_______________________________________________

Now I wanna talk about rather obscure stuff. Like Kinger being right handed. I never posted anything about it, but I discussed with my friend about what each circus member's dominant hand was (bc I was bored, can you blame me?) and while I still think that the animators just use whatever looks good and can bring the message across the best (like Gangle sometimes drawing with her left hand and with her right hand, based on what perspective we view her, or how basically most characters use their left and right hand for difficult tasks equally, just so that the viewers can see it better, and it's probably easier to animate as well if you don't have to think about it)

Anyways, Kinger is right handed confirmed to me. (Jax is left handed, tho I need to rewatch all episodes and shorts on Glitch's channel to get more information about that, same with the other chars, tho I'm 98% convinced that both Jax and Gangle are left handed, tho that might just be delusion idk)

Btw the Anime and Intermission section were beautiful. Now we know why it took so long, but it was definitely worth it.

Also RIBBUN AND MAID DRESS HALLELUJAH!

ngl this looks funny

I feel like the shippers are going crazy with this one, especially people who ship Funnybunny (and the Bunnydoll Nation is either in shambles or enjoy it as much as the time Ragatha got deep fried.)

As a Ribbun enjoyer, I am definitely eating the toxic crumbs up like Jax did eat Gangle. Also thank you Goose for giving us so many great catchphrases that I am going to use from now on.

Also, THE LORE. And why can I genuinely relate so much with Jax. Why. Idk how to feel about this. And he actually cares let's gooo!

And I gotta say. Love the beef between Jax and Ragatha, and I also like the friendship between Jax and Pomni that slowly but surely develops. I also like the detail that here, Pomni votes against the maid dress. I could imagine that she just thinks it's childish, but it's also a sign that she knows Jax would hate it and wouldn't want to stir chaos.

ALSO HE SAID THE LINE HE SAID THE LINE!

You detached it yourself, idiot.

Welp I'm outta pictures to post here. There's alot more like Jax having a friend that looks like a frog, and Goose mentioned in one post that the person that abstracted before Kaufmo was called Ribbit (yk, like the sound a frog makes). I thinke there's likely a connection. And considering that Pomni was supposed to be a frog first, maybe that's how Jax and Pomni also will become closer friends. Can't wait for the next episode

And knowing what Goose said, it's not gonna be a wholesome one. After all, even tho 5&6 are split between Ragatha and Jax, this was still the Ragatha episode, and the next one will be "more centered" around Jax. I'm scared.

Also as much as it pains me, I think Gangle will be the one to abstract. The fact that she didn't have an evil doppelganger and with the teaser of her symbol loading, it's too much of a coincidence to not happen. Pls don't Gangle you're my baby ;;-;;.

(so much so to "not an essay" lmao. "Not an essay" my ass)

Also. DaY 172 bc yes

[confused-pyramid]

Breaking Point

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: You and Art were hitting partners (and a bit more) in college, so when you run into him a decade later at the U.S. Open, old sparks reignite...

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (fem!receiving), slight marking, drinking

a/n: I watched Challengers last night and then wrote this whole thing in one sitting. Nothing in this is really canon other than Art being a major simp lol so no spoilers for the movie! I usually make playlists (or at least find a few songs that get me in the zone) when writing, so I thought I'd start sharing them here too if people are interested!

You should've known he'd be here. You've been following his career for the last decade since you graduated, and ever since he won Wimbledon last year, he's been tennis royalty, but a small part of you still thought you wouldn't run into him here. At the fucking U.S. Open.

Stanford was a lifetime ago, and you haven't kept in touch with anyone from the college team, but there was always something about Art Donaldson that stuck with you. Ten years later, that hasn't changed.

"It's been so long," he calls out when he spots you from across the practice courts. "I didn't think I'd see you."

You didn't either, and you still haven't decided how you feel about it yet, but when he jogs over to your side, you just shrug. "Guess it's your lucky day."

He smiles, and his teeth glimmer in the bright sunlight. "It certainly is."

The loud thwacks of tennis balls hitting rackets echo around you, but you can't seem to focus on anything but the man standing in front of you. He looks good.

He was beautiful in college too, whether he was training across the net or slipping into your bed, but it feels different now, with so much time apart. He looks like a man now.

"Anyway," Art says, jerking you back to reality. "We should get a drink sometime. To catch up."

He adds the last part almost as an afterthought, but it doesn't escape your notice how his eyes have been trailing up and down your body since he walked over.

A drink could mean almost anything with Art Donaldson, but you're too curious to refuse. "Sure. This weekend, after the semi-finals."

He nods, his eyes glinting with amusement, and you grab your bag from the bench beside you before looping the strap over your shoulder.

You walk off the practice courts after one last glance over your shoulder, and you feel his eyes following along until the doors swing shut behind you.

***

He should've expected this. You were a firecracker in college, and you kept him on his toes every single day you were together, so he really should have known what he was getting into when he met you for drinks that weekend.

Instead, he's one too many beers in, and his buzz is only enhancing the glow of your beauty in the hazy bar light. Your dress isn't even that low cut, but something about the shadows glancing over your strong shoulders reminds him of late nights in the Stanford dorms after a hard practice when there was only one thing he wanted more than sleep.

"You played really well this morning," he says genuinely as he sets his beer back onto the table. "After that first set, Mueller didn't stand a chance."

You flash him a dazzling smile as you shrug, resting your chin on your palm. "I had her after the third game, but thanks. It was a quick match."

Art hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sat down, and while prolonged eye contact usually makes you nervous, you find that you're actually enjoying the attention quite a bit. Attentiveness was never an issue with him, and you would normally give in to your urges, but there's just too much history with him, and you can't afford to lose focus. Not when the title is so close you can taste it.

"I hear the networks are eyeing you for a commentator post," you say, trying to change the subject.

You trace your finger around the rim of your nearly empty margarita, before lifting it to take a final sip, and you don't miss how his throat bobs as you lick the salt off your lips.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "It was just some chatter, but I'm not looking to retire anytime soon."

You frown. "Is that right?" He's playing better than ever, but he definitely hasn't been himself out on the court in years.

He glances down, clearly trying to avoid the scrutiny, and when his eyes land on your empty glass, he changes the subject again. "You want another drink?"

You shake your head, knowing that another will lead to a less than fun morning, but he isn't done yet.

"You sure?" His eyes find yours again, and this time the eye contact feels primal. "It doesn't have to be here."

Your eyebrows lift and you tilt your head with a knowing smile. "Where were you thinking?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, before his lips curve up into a cheeky grin. "My room's nice."

You saw it coming from a mile away, but it still pulls a laugh out of you. "Oh, I'm sure it is, but this isn't college anymore, Art. You should get some sleep...focus on your match in the morning."

You push your glass forward and stand up, nodding at him as you turn to leave, but then you see him stand too out of the corner of your eye.

"I'll walk you to your car."

He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his expression, and you can't help but want to play along, even though Art Donaldson was nothing but trouble for you.

You don't respond, instead just stepping out from around the table and walking out the front doors of the bar. You don't have to turn back to know he's right behind you, and when you reach your car, parked in the center of the nearly empty parking lot, you spin around.

He doesn't stop walking until he has you practically boxed in by your driver's side door, his face less than a foot from yours as he tucks his hands into his pockets.

He had pushed his sleeves back at some point in the night, from the humid summer heat of the bar, and you can see the veins on his forearms now, under the dim light of the street lamps.

"This is me," you say jokingly, tipping your chin at your car as he looks at you with an expression you can't distinguish. "I'm good from here."

He doesn't move.

It's not that you expected him to give up so easily; you had just forgotten how persistent he could be.

Art's mouth stretches into a slanted smile. "Do you remember the Davis Invitational? Junior year."

Speaking of his persistence...he had been pursuing you for months, not in any tangible way, but you always knew what he was thinking.

After the invitational, where you and Art had been the respective men's and women's champions, you had gone back to his dorm to celebrate. Three hours and just as many vodka shooters later, he had finally gotten you in his bed. Not that you were complaining.

Art knew his way around your body, and even that first night, he had managed to get you off more times than you can remember.

"What about it?" you shoot back, your eyebrows raising at the insinuation.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug, but you don't miss the humor glinting in his eyes. "You just used to be a lot more fun to celebrate with."

"Fuck you," you spit out, shoving his shoulder harder than you mean to. He barely budges, instead grabbing your hand and tugging you a few inches closer, and suddenly a wave of lust washes over you, making your breath hitch.

You press your thighs together under your dress, hoping he can't feel the heat spreading across your skin, but then his smile turns to a smirk and you know you're done for.

"What do you think?" he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips brush over your earlobe. "Want to celebrate?"

Molten lava pools in your gut and you are only peripherally aware of his hand sliding down your hips to the flowy edge of your dress. His fingers glide over your skin as his hand goes under the loose fabric, before rising up to grab your ass, drawing your hips flush with his.

Your arousal is already starting to soak through your panties, but the feeling of his hard bulge pressed up against you sends you flying back to reality.

You lift your hands to his chest and push him back so that he's a few steps away from you. It's not far enough, but at least you can't feel him from there. "I'm not fucking you, Art."

He shrugs, his smirk only slightly shaken. "Who said anything about fucking? I just wanted to talk."

You huff out a laugh. "You're funny. Besides, I'm too tired for this. I need to rest up before my match."

"What about tomorrow night then?" His lip is still curved up in a smirk, but there's an earnestness in his gaze that surprises you.

"What makes you think you'll still be here tomorrow?"

His mouth spreads into a wide smile. "I always win."

You snort. "Fine. Win your match and we can talk."

You don't miss the grin on his face as you climb into your car and leave.

***

You win your next match in straight sets again, so by the time you're out of the locker room, Art's match is still in play. Driven by a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, you head over to his court and find a seat halfway up the stands.

He has won two of three sets, and he's leading the fourth, so with the prospect of the match ending soon, you use the time to observe him from a different angle.

His form is much better than it was in college, and you've seen him play countless times on TV, but you haven't really let yourself see how good he looks out there. The sinewy muscles rippling in his arms as he lifts them to serve. The rugged sturdiness of his legs as he races back and forth across the court.

You wish you could be down there with him, running your hands over the smooth lines of his abdomen, tasting the drops of sweat as they roll down his body-

The crowd erupts in cheers, and you are thrust back into reality as Art throws his arms into the air with a loud whoop. The scoreboard confirms his victory, and you clap along with the audience as he shakes his opponent's hand and heads over to his chair.

People around you stand up to leave, but you stay in your seat, watching as he grabs his bag and stuffs his rackets inside. When he wipes a towel over his face, his head turns up and his eyes immediately go to you, like he knew you were here the whole time.

Your stomach does an involuntary flip and he flashes his eyebrows at you as you bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold back a smile.

When he ducks back down to grab his things, you stand up quickly to avoid letting him see your blush and follow the rest of the crowd off of the stands.

***

You hear it late that night. Three little raps on your hotel room door, just before midnight.

You're in the finals, and you don't have any friends here to celebrate with, so you were sipping a beer and watching old match recordings when you heard the knock.

There's no one else who would come to see you this late, so you're not surprised when you open the door to find Art, dressed in a tee shirt and comfy-looking pajama pants.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

Art just looks at you, his pupils already massive. "You said if I win, we could talk." He shrugs. "I won."

"Okay," you concede, opening the door wider to let him in. "Just talking then."

He nods, before following you inside and shutting the door.

"You want anything to drink?" you ask as he trails behind you.

He shakes his head. "I'm good."

You grab your beer bottle from the side table and sit down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you.

Art sits across from you, his feet in front of him and his elbows on his knees. You were assigned to a modestly sized room, but for someone as tall as him, the space must feel cramped.

"How did the match feel?" you ask, taking a swig of beer.

He thinks for a moment. "It was close at first, but once I shook my legs out, it became a breeze."

"Your legs were never the problem," you say, leveling him with a serious look. "It was always your attitude. Or your confidence."

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. "I'm plenty confident."

"You are now," you tell him as you swirl the bottle around in your hand. "You won Wimbledon, you have a reason to be confident."

That makes him smile. "So you're saying my legs are fine."

"Yeah," you say before you can process what you're saying. "You looked good out there."

His smile turns to a smirk so fast it nearly gives you whiplash. "You think I look good?"

You let out an exasperated scoff. "At tennis."

His grin doesn't falter so you roll your eyes at him before lifting the bottle to your lips to take another swig. When you tilt the bottle back down to swallow, his hand reaches forward to take it from you. Your grip on the beer doesn't loosen, so the motion sends you pitching forward.

Your mouth parts with a small yelp as his arm wraps around you, tugging you closer, and before you can process what's happening, his lips are on yours.

If you let yourself think too hard, you would realize that there is way too much shared history and way too much baggage here for this to be a good idea...so that's why you don't.

Instead, you let him pull your body flush against his and when his tongue slides over the seam of your lips, you grant him access immediately. Your shirts come off in quick succession and you gasp as his hands run up and down your body, his strong, calloused fingers grasping at every inch of purchase they can find. Yours reach up to tangle in his messy hair, and when his lips move down your neck, your grip tightens, making him moan quietly against your skin.

Something about being on the floor takes you back to your college days, when you'd both be so worked up after practice that you couldn't even make it to the bed, but that feels too real right now.

"Art," you whisper as he runs his lips and teeth over your neck, before replacing it with his tongue to soothe the quickly blossoming marks. "Art, the bed. Now."

It takes him a second to process your words, but when he does, he loops an arm around your waist and lifts you up and onto the bed in one motion, before pushing you back onto the covers.

By the time your head hits the bed, he's already pulling your shorts and panties down, exposing you to the cool air. His lips follow the path of his hands as they trace up your legs, making you squirm under the hot touch of his rough fingers. He presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs before spreading them apart and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of you.

"So wet for me," he whispers, almost to himself, before he dives in, his mouth making lewd noises as he licks a thick stripe up your core. "You taste so good."

He lifts your legs over his shoulders to give himself some leverage as he makes a mess between your thighs, licking and sucking your clit into his mouth before fucking you with his tongue.

His grip on your thighs is the only thing keeping you pinned to the bed as you writhe beneath him, trying to not squeeze your legs together from the heat spreading up your core.

His mouth feels amazing and it takes only minutes before you're already nearing the edge. You don't want to come until he is inside of you, though, so you yank his hair, pulling him up and off of you.

He looks up at you through his lashes, and he looks ethereal with his disheveled hair and his chin wet with your slick.

You, on the other hand, look like heaven itself with your eyes half-hooded from pleasure, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face as he licks his lips and climbs over you onto the bed. He lets you taste yourself as he kisses you again, and he lets out a low groan when you bite his lip just hard enough to sting.

"Fuck me," you gasp, your voice too breathy to be actually authoritative. "Fuck me the way I like."

Art grins at your desperate tone and the wild lust in your eyes, committing this image to memory for a later time when you're much further away.

He kicks his pants off as he lifts you both further up the bed, and after covering himself with a condom from his back pocket, he lines himself up and slowly pushes forward.

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and then thrusting in again.

The slight pain turns to pleasure almost immediately, but he keeps his pace steady so as not to hurt you. You need more right now, so you wrap your legs around him for leverage and flip him over so that you're straddling him.

He groans as his head hits the pillow, and when he tries to sit up, you press your hands to his chest, pushing him down as you ride him. This position gives you a lot more control, and you use it to your advantage as you bounce yourself on his cock, feeling the way he fills you up so fully from this higher angle.

His fingers dig into your hips as he helps lift you up and down, and his eyes are practically feral as he watches the spot where his cock disappears inside of you.

He's the perfect size to fill you up completely, and with each swivel of your hips, you get closer and closer to your climax, which is approaching so fast you can taste it.

You cry out when he hits exactly the right spot deep inside of you, and his eyes fly to yours as your movements start to stutter from your impending release.

Needing to see the look on your face when you come, he pushes your lower back forward so you fall against his chest, before lifting himself up to meet you halfway. With one arm locked around you, he brings his other hand down between the two of you to rub quick circles over your clit. The new angle lets him thrust up into you, and the increased pace of his movements mixed with the speed of his fingers sends you flying over the edge.

Your mouth falls open with a loud cry, and you squeeze him so tightly he's practically seeing stars. You look so beautiful when you come, like a goddess sent down here just for him, and when your eyes meet his, he finds his own climax.

His body jerks forward with the force of his release, and you let him thrust a few more times as he finally finishes inside of you.

After pulling out, he tugs you down to lay next to him, and at first you let him, but the emotions warring inside of you don't stay quiet for long.

You know that whatever this was isn't going to go anywhere. You didn't work in college, and you won't work now, and you don't want anyone to get hurt again, so you have to make a choice. Now.

"I need to get some rest," you say quietly, a tiny part of you hoping he doesn't hear you. "Before the next match."

"Yeah," he sighs after a beat. "Me too."

You let him hold you for a moment longer, before he unwraps himself from your body and sits up, tugging his shirt and pants back on. You tug the sheet back and wrap it around your torso as he stands up and walks to the door.

You're not sure what you're expecting as he goes to leave, but what you get is a silent nod as the door swings shut behind him.

[bioblsm]

WHAT DOES THEIR CAMERA ROLL LOOK LIKE?

❀ ꒰warnings꒱. boothill backstory spoilers, not proofread ಥ_ಥ

𖧷 characters. jing yuan, blade, dr ratio, ruan mei, aventurine, sunday, boothill

☆彡 notes. aventurine 🤝 boothill — being some of the most gay ass mfs i’ve seen in a hyv game (apart from bronya and seele) seriously their flamboyance still gives me whiplash…anyways this has been on my mind for months now but i’ve never gotten around to writing it!!! >_<

JING YUAN 𐚁 景元

[◉"] 2,304 photos, 83 videos

⌖ if you scroll really fast down or up his gallery, all you’ll actually manage to see is splotches of pink, blonde and silver

⌖ everything ranges from cute candid shots of yanqing (he takes multiple if yanqing’s fallen asleep while on duty), to sneaky pictures of fu xuan as she’s working where he’s in the foreground doing peace signs — the final picture of course being her looking at the camera lense directly to glare up at him

⌖ reaching weekends when he’s slightly a little more free or allows himself a small break to stroll around town, his camera roll is either filled with pictures of food he’s eaten or swords that yanqing may or not definitely ask about that he’s now more inclined to buy as he’s seen them in person (he’s a boy dad who loves spoiling his child, alright?)

⌖ the large majority of his photos unfortunately are work related, only really the recent ones being deleted from his gallery to clear up some space

⌖ however, while his photos are preoccupied with either his two kids or random scrolls with messy and rushed handwriting, each video is of you; jing yuan thinks a picture would belittle your beauty too much.

⌖ he needs something a little more real, a little more active and animated to help him quell the chirping loneliness that creeps up on his heart whenever you’re away from him for a prolonged period of time; if he’s feeling particularly mischievous he might sneak a quick but blurry picture of himself to send to you ♡

BLADE 𐚁 刃

[◉"] 9 photos, 2 videos

⌖shit is BARREN. literally a complete EMPTY VOID. if you snatched his phone somehow you’d assume he just got it despite him not having changed it ever since he received one

⌖ perhaps on the occasion you’ll find a cameo picture from one of the stellaron hunters as his phone is left unoccupied and someone decided to blast his entire gallery with their face (silverwolf specifically just hacks into his phone to keep putting random screenshots he’s never taken in his gallery to make him believe he’s taken them)

⌖ maybe sometimes he’ll screenshot different ways to die or health clinic locations he can avoid when he’s fortunately bleeding out but otherwise? nothing.

⌖ if you’re a massive yapper and love sending him pictures, he won’t go out of his way to download them for later usage (whatever that may be…) but he also won’t go out of his way to delete it if it’s accidentally automatically downloaded on his phone — maybe elios intended for it to be there?

⌖ it’s quite nice having a reminder of his significant other where he doesn’t have to actively listen to their voice… that’s a little exaggerative; but he loves just mapping out the features in your face, it helps him sleep just the slightest bit better with no ailment if he’s able to trace your features like a constellation on his blank, dark wall

DR RATIO 𐚁 真理医生

[◉"] 1000 photos, 100 videos

⌖ call it a form of ocd, but he NEEDS to have a decent ratio (i didn’t even mean for this to be a pun i’m so sorry) of his photos to videos; he doesn’t care if it’s 10:1, 2:1 1:5, he needs something that’s at least somewhat pleasing to the eyes

⌖ ratio immediately deleted anything he doesn’t need or thinks he won’t find use in for at the very least the month (this includes every single cameo shot aventurine or you have taken of yourselves on his phone without his permission, which by the way, he didn’t hesitate to scold you two for)

⌖ maybe if he’s feeling particularly loving (when is he ever?) he’ll allow ONE picture to stay.

⌖ his camera roll is purely filled with test results, written exams, student emails he needs to read over, things concerning the guild or the ipc and secret purchases of ducks he’s made (he’s not ashamed, he just doesn’t want you to know he’s buying ducks that are bigger in size every time so he can fill your shared bathroom)

⌖ realistically, maintaining such a perfect ratio of photos:videos is rather impossible unless you’ve got impeccable timing with things you save and delete so, in order to bypass this, ratio made a photo library to help serve as a base number of sorts

⌖ that photo library is of course a secret and locked haven filled with pictures and videos of you, none of which you can even recall taking. all of them hold at least some sort of significance to the both of you, but the ones that dr ratio loves the most is the ones that are just natural

⌖ the ones that show you being yourself, whether it’s where you’re cuddled up near a blanket reading something with a leg hiked up over the sheets or where you’re sleeping with your mouth wide open because you’re sick and unable to breathe through your nose properly; he loves it all

RUAN MEI 𐚁 阮•梅

[◉"] 505 photos, 28 videos

⌖ she tries to keep it as neat as possible; that means no sneaky pics taken of her by you, accidental blurry shots she’s taken (god forbid, those ones are immediately scrapped and done anew especially if related to an experiment of hers) thought that doesn’t mean she clears it in the regular

⌖ ruan mei actively saves any photo you send her, sometimes she’ll even screenshot the chat itself if she finds herself clutching at her heart as she swoons over a few lines of flirting that apparently you couldn’t hold yourself back from due to how much you missed her

⌖ she’s not someone really sentimental so despite having photos of her little cake-cat hybrids, she rarely ever rechecks them unless the trailblazer sent another report on their status to match

⌖ honestly her memory is impeccable to the point she doesn’t even need screenshot reminders of things like dates and experiments saved (would it even be called machine reductionist to call her a walking computer model at this point?) therefore, anything she saves that’s work or science related probably has more intricacies that she can account for

⌖ her gallery is a little boring otherwise. for someone of her morally grey standards you’d expect at least something worth mentioning, maybe even something dumb like a secret recipe she uses to make the sweetest (anti-truth serum…) pastries but no— nothing.

yet the reason for that is very blatant; not even her beloved has the privilege to witness her mendacity.

AVENTURINE 𐚁 砂金

[◉"] 8,793 photos, 777 videos

⌖ it’s a complete and utter mess to say the very least; dr ratio refuses to so much as glance at it whenever he’s near and topaz just gets an ick:

“how do you even manage to find anything?”

“luck.”

⌖ his photos range from absurd, to sweet to egotistical. things that remind him of you such as random rocks he finds, alcoholic beverages that have the same colour scheme of an outfit you wore the night before, an animal he saw that he swears if reincarnation was real would so be you

⌖ he has a specific library for just solely screenshots based off your chats, most of them including a significant amount of “i love yous” and goodbyes that promised a little something more when you met up next; everything that aventurine utterly cherished and craved

⌖ …and then the rest was either him showing the background of him photobombing others, pictures he took to send to you (or one of the ipc members to piss them off, sometimes even the trailblazer for a cheeky laugh) and on the even more popular occasion, all his extraordinary wins whether it be in poker, pool or uno

⌖ compared to his photos, his videos are slightly more interesting. a near 50/50 split that ranged between him telling dumbass jokes to piss off his coworkers, recordings of the back of dr ratio’s and or topaz’s head just for the future laughs (he likes the reminder that he does actually have friends and they aren’t just deliberate hallucinations born of loneliness).

⌖ but of course, all his “favourited” videos involve you somehow. sometimes it’s just a slip of your name while he’s sneakily recording a meeting, him telling you he misses you or vice versa, other times it’s just when he feels like he has a home. you snuggled up on his chest, hands intertwined together as your breathing nearly synchronises with him…moments where he feels as though he could forget the trademark imprinted onto his neck.

SUNDAY 𐚁 星期日

[◉"] 777 photos, 111 videos

⌖ now as much as i want to say “oh it’s all you! he has a special folder for you <3” i unfortunately can’t.

⌖ it’s almost most definitely videos of robin’s concerts, solo shows, videos he stolen off of audience members with good seats when he wasn’t available to personally hide in the crowd…a lot of the photos are also the same way; robin’s promotional pictures, screenshots from her recent advertisements and negative hate comments or news stories that he’s going to personally deal with later

⌖ that doesn’t mean he values or priorities you over his sister, absolutely not. you two are the only people in his life who he would unironically take down the skies and survive utter torment for if it meant your voices were the last things he heard as bellowing winds sliced past his eardrums to tune the world out in order to hear his own final breath

⌖ he tries his best not to be sentimental or nostalgic, as he’s been told as he grew up into the bright and maybe just slightly tragic and guilt-infested man he is today, those things in his eyes are an innate weakness of humanity. clinging onto something thats not tangible anymore.

⌖ but he can’t help but hold on to every video you send him. every picture of you smiling, laughing, every text of you saying i love yous, quoting love songs to him or showing him pictures where you jokingly said “that’s us” (did he tilt his head a few times when you kept sending animals to him with that particular correspondent message? perhaps, but it never made him blind to the intentions).

BOOTHILL 𐚁 波提欧

[◉"] 12,113 photos, 191 videos

⌖ he truly doesn’t gaf (give a fork) about how messy it is, all the things that are genuinely important are already locked and loaded into his noggin’, there’s no point in being frugal with the space he’s been given on a little cellular device

⌖ you wouldn’t believe it, but he rarely uses it unless it’s for emergencies. there’s plenty of trouble that comes around when you’re a galaxy ranger, which means having a constant tracking device on you like a phone that you update daily is a stupidly bad idea; which is precisely why his photo gallery is a mess

⌖ he quite literally can’t go in and clear it out otherwise it risks giving out sensitive information.

⌖ not applicable to you, that is. in boothill’s eyes, you’re an “emergency”. if you’ve texted him, it’s obvious you want his attention, which potentially means you could be in danger and he has to rush to the rescue like the flamboyant cowboy he is (no he absolutely knows you don’t need help, but there’s always that nagging “what if” factor, you know?)

⌖ he inwardly blesses whoever invented screenshotting because it would be an understatement to say that little as half of his gallery is littered with you. he’s just a bit of a boomer when it comes to technology like this, despite being a whole walking charging port himself ehem, so a lot of the pictures he has saved of you that you sent over whenever he cutely pleaded;

“missing ya, send me a lil’ somethin’ wont you?”

unfortunately are uncropped and framed with the outline of whatever messaging app you’re on.

⌖ if he lets you scroll up far back enough, maybe you’ll get to see just a glimpse of how similar his adoptive daughter’s smile was to his

© BIOBLSM ✮ do not copy steal or repost

[actual-changeling]

we do not talk enough about the moment right before crowley puts his sunglasses back on. the "nothing lasts forever" is devastating and if you're like me your eyes were so full of tears you couldn't see the screen the first time you watched it (just like crowley, look at us all twinning in sadness!).

there is a shift that happens in his eyes and i think it is absolutely fascinating and heartbreaking at the same time.

we begin with crowley averting his gaze from aziraphale's face and staring off into the distance instead, and you can see his spirit break. that crowley just lost the one thing in the world he cannot live without and we can see it written across his face like a neon sign.

then, as you'd expect, he gives into the need to cover up his pain, to try and make himself less vulnerable, and even before he lifts his glasses he looks down so aziraphale can no longer see his eyes.

now, the next part is what would not let me out of its grasp all day. we know it happens because of his demeanour afterwards and up until the kiss, but you can actually watch as crowley makes himself numb to the world.

i am intimately familiar with dissociation as a trauma and stress response, and while you can never fully control it, you do eventually find the switch in your mind that makes you snap back into the haze. crowley has had six thousand years to get really, really good at leaving reality behind when he needs and/or wants to.

that's exactly what he does.

he still looks sad, and yet there's just something distinctly distant in his eyes, the shift from openly heartbroken to "i don't want to feel any of this let me leave".

glasses? on

emotions? off

hotel? trivago

i have stared at those four frames more than any person probably should and i don't know if it's the light, if i am going insane, or if there is a single tear sliding out of his right (our left) eye. i'm probably insane and the light is a bitch so if anyone has some high resolution shots or anything that could answer that question without a doubt PLEASE do add it.

by now you are probably ready to threaten me with a knife in a dark alley but before you do that or drive your car off a cliff, let me tell you the best part:

aziraphale notices.

they might be communicating on two different frequencies but aziraphale knows crowley. he knows and loves him, and, most importantly, over the last few years he has gotten used to seeing crowley without his glasses. aziraphale could probably write a book on the expressions in his eyes alone and watches that shift happen and is devastated.

look.

he tries to make himself hope the same second, tries to convince himself crowley is putting on his glasses so they can leave together, but he knows.

aziraphale sees the light leave crowley's eyes, sees crowley leave, knowing that he is quite literally running away from him. you and me against the world, angel, but in that moment crowley firmly pushes him back to "the world" (or tries to, anyway).

the entire season we see crowley take off his glasses whenever he enters the bookshop to the point where he's running around without them on in broad daylight with jimbriel right there.

can you imagine how hurt and confused aziraphale must be?

because what crowley is telling him, if we really, really break it down, is that aziraphale is no longer a safe person for him. and repairing that trust is going to take time and work, no matter how much crowley loves him, how badly they love and need each other.

anyway to seal this off and really rub in the pain - how it started vs. how it ended. <3

oh one last thing: now crowley no longer has a single person he can be himself around, no one that knows him, no one he trusts. no one in whose presence he can take his glasses off.

and outside of the bentley and his own flat, he no longer has a place to do so either. the bookshop was theirs. with aziraphale gone, is it really a safe place anymore? is it somewhere he can just let himself be knowing he will be looked after and protected?

easy answer: no.

alright, off i go. see y'all on the next angst post or in the tags.

[jolyfics]

This is my first time requesting something uggghh I'm nervous.

Anyways, I think it would be so cute if your wrote how the jojos would confess to their crushes!

i love the way you write so ik you'll do them justice

𝙞 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪

𝘫𝘰𝘫𝘰𝘴 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

summary: how the jojos confess

notes: THIS TOOK SO LONG MY HAND FELL ASLEEP 😭😭 but really i hope you enjoy it!! i swear i wasn’t being that lazy over easter break

jonathan joestar

i feel like jonathan is the most romantic out of all the jojos

he’d definitely bring you some place nice

like a tree on a hill during sunset

he’d also make it a picnic

after you two talk for a good bit is when he’d speak up

if you agree to his confession he’d let out a sigh of relief, as well as a big grin

6pm, he told you to meet you by the tree where you usually hang out, you adored that tree, it was rural. once you arrived you noticed he was there before you, sitting underneath the tree with a cute little picnic basket beside him. you sat down to his left, he took out some sandwiches you assumed he made and the two of you began eating, quickly falling into your usual banter.

after awhile, he cleared his throat, causing you to look up at him with confusion. “i.. have something i wish to tell you.” he spoke up, he sounded nervous, you had never heard him sound like that before. you perked up, signalling for him to continue. “i have feelings for you, (name). and i hope you’d accept them” you could feel your cheeks heat up, which caused his to do the same.

you nodded, “i do, jojo!” he grinned, a sigh escaping him as relief washed over his entire body. he placed his hand atop of yours, as you both gave eachother an adoring look

joseph joestar

joseph’s a smartass

it definitely starts with him teasing you

then when you ask him why he likes teasing you specifically is when he shuts up

he admits it quite casually

like its nothing

leaving you quite flustered

“c’mon, cutie! give me a smile!” he smirked, he adored the way your eyebrows looked as they furrowed when he spoke. he loved the way your face turned the slightest shade of red and how you tried to hide how he actually got a reaction out of you. he loved it all. “shut up, jojo!” you scoffed, trying to hide the blush that crept up onto your face

“why do you always tease me? why not suzie q?!” you spoke up, you weren’t angry, just genuinely confused. did he like seeing you so angry? he then playfully rolled his eyes. “because i love seeing that look on your face! i mean, who wouldn’t? you’re gorgeous yknow?” you scoffed once more before crossing your arms

“it’s because i love you, (name)! and i know you can’t resist me” he grinned, his usual stupid grin. you looked back over at him. it seemed he was waiting for you to say something to him, instead you placed a small kiss on his cheek. that seemed to finally shut him up

jotaro kujo

it honestly depends on which jotaro

part 3 jotaro isn’t the kinda guy to confess his feelings to you

he’d just hope and pray you had that confidence to speak up first

if you don’t though, and the feeling is getting too much for him to handle he’d trap you in a hotel room and force you to listen to him

very rare to hear more than a few words with him, let alone hear what he FEELS

you sat on the hotel bed, reading a cheap magazine you found in one of the drawers in the bedside table. you were sharing a room with jotaro, you only really shared with him or kakyoin, since you three were the only teenagers with the group. jotaro had just gotten back from being in the bathroom, he sat on the bed to your right.

“(name).” he spoke, his voice soft, yet still with the usual firmness that usually has a grasp over him. you looked over to him, closing the magazine over and placing it beside you on the bed. “yes, jotaro?” he paused, the air seemed different. not the usual feeling you had while rooming with him.

“you’re.. not awful.” his voice was now that of a mumble, as he used the brim of his hat to cover his face. at first you were confused, until it hit you, he was trying to tell you how he felt about you. he just couldn’t get the right words out of his mouth

josuke higashikata (4)

josukes confession is probably the most fun out of them all.

i feel like he’d take you somewhere fun like bowling

you’d be kicking his ass at it

and once you finished up your game and we’re walking home

thats when he’d tell you

and if its cold he might even lend you his coat

you shivered as the two of you walked home after a long day of bowling. you two played about 4 rounds, you won 3/4 of those games, which you were quite proud of. you felt something heavy land across your shoulders, you looked down. josukes coat? you then turned your gaze to him, he seemed to be looking in the opposite direction of you

“thanks, josuke” you spoke up, getting rid of the silence between you too. he hummed, kicking a rock as he walked. “hey, uhh” he paused before speaking up once more. “i gotta tell you something, and don’t get angry at me for saying this!” you chuckled at that, you couldn’t get angry at him

“i.. think i might like you. thats a lie. i know i like you” you pulled his coat closer around you as you grinned, this day seemed to be getting better and better..

giorno giovanna

giorno definitely took you to a fancy restaurant

he is the don, he has that kind of money

he’d probably buy you something fancy too.

he’d just say it outright, like it was something he said everyday

you two sat across from eachother at the fancy restaurant, both of you in your fanciest attire. you two stared at a menu, deciding what to get before the waiter arrived, notebook and pen in hand. once you ordered, and the waiter was gone, giorno looked over at you. he pulled out a tiny box placing it on the table and sliding it over to you

“giorno, no” “i insist, (name)” he interrupted. you sighed, picking up the box and opening it. a necklace lay inside, laced with what you could only assume were real diamonds. you looked up to him in shock. “giorno, i can’t take this..” he shook his head

“you must, you’re the only person i’d want to spend this kind of money on, so please. let me buy you things from now on” he gave a small, meaningful smile towards you, which only made you smile. you took the necklace out of the box, placing it around your neck. “you look stunning, mí amore”

jolyne cujoh

okay. we all know how lesbians are

she’d definitely confess buy playing a song for you, then saying that it reminds her of you

you two would just be in her bedroom

and she’d suggest listening to music

then she’d play the song and say it reminds her of you two

you two sat on jolynes bed, you’d been friends for years, so long in fact, you two had began to develop feelings for eachother. even though everyone around the two of you knew, you two didn’t. “hey.. let’s listen to some music!” jolyne suggested, you nodded. that could be fun, you always enjoyed her music

she grinned, standing up from the bed and heading towards her cd collection. she picked one up, then placed it into the cd player. it took a few seconds for the song to boot up but once it began she then hurried back over to sit beside you in her bed. “what song is it?” you asked, she only grinned at you. “you’ll see”

as the song began to play, it seemed like something jolyne never would’ve usually listened to. you began to recognise the song as time went on, ‘this kiss, by faith hill’ as you began to wonder why she picked this song, she spoke up. “this song, reminds me of us..” her face was slightly red as she spoke

Johnny Joestar

johnny and you were put on a ranch

yous were just together tending to your horses

it was silent, peaceful

that’s when johnny would admit to having feelings for you

it definitely took him awhile to do that

he’s not the most open when it comes to how he feels

you fed your horse, johnny stood beside you, doing the exact same to slow dancer, his horse. it was comfortable, you two enjoyed eachothers company and the silence between you wasn’t awkward in the slightest, at least for you anyways.

johnny was busy thinking about you, he wanted to tell you how he felt, he knew he owed it to you to be honest, but it was just scary. he was afraid of rejection from you. even though he knew deep, deep down that you most likely liked him too

“hey.. (name)?” he finally spoke up, he felt as if his heart was in his throat. you turned to look at him, giving him a hum to continue. “i just wanted to say that i.. like ya, i have for awhile now. i just.. wanted ya to know” he looked away, embarrassed

josuke higashikata (8)

josuke just blurts it out

like its NOTHING

he doesn’t get social cues tbh

it leaves you shocked

like really shocked

you two were probably just sitting in a part when he just says it

you sat on the park bench with josuke, you both had gotten an ice cream, it was a very warm day in morioh, so ice cream was the only solution the two of you had. as you both sat, enjoying your ice cream, you looked over to josuke, who seemed to be enjoying his delicious sweet treat

“isn’t this nice, josuke?” you spoke up, he only nodded enthusiastically, continuing to lick the cone. you chuckled at him, giving him a smile. which seemed to make him stop eating? he stared at you, in an almost creepy way. you’d be creeped out if you didn’t know him

“i’m in love with you” he says, before going back to his ice cream. you stared at him, in shock. “what?” you gave him a confused look, where you dreaming? hallucinating even? did he really just say that to you?

[arottenlust]

cuz im pretty when i cry (the inspiration)

everything started with that edit. i don’t know what it was, but something about it was hard to look away from. ive rewatched it like a hundred times at this point. the song and the smile on his face inspired the first iteration of this story.

spoilers for the series below (kind of? It kinda fucks w the immersion i think. Idk its spoilerish to me)

one where youre desperate for any crumb of his affection, desperate to have your affections returned, and sukuna is willing and happy to enable your sickness. it grew from there to it instead being a misunderstanding of sorts- sukuna is showing his love and dedication the only way he knows how, with action instead of words. you, used to the very hot and cold and emotionally abusive environment you grew up in, don’t know how to pick up on this. it leads to you slowly falling apart more and more, miserably obsessed with keeping your place beside him, lashing out at any perceived obstacles, despite the fact that sukuna never planned to leave, would never want to. And, blinded by your seemingly easygoing nature and the fact that he quite enjoys your increasingly psychotic behavior, knowing that it stems from your love for him, sukuna doesn’t notice anything is amiss until the cracks begin to splinter and break you apart.

I didn’t plan to make you yandere esque, but it seems that the more twisted parts of me leaked into the story. Oops?

im not sure about including smut. I think i might but im still on the fence about that one…. I probably will tho

it has a happy ending. I didn’t want to give it one, I wanted it to just be a sad, horrifically desperate, story, but this route seemed a little more interesting to write. I think I’ll probably write a different version in the future, one where sukuna really doesn’t care.

the relationship is unhealthy in the sense that a well adjusted person wouldn’t frame their entire life around another person the way you do in this story. i.e youre a yandere. in your head, sukuna could keep you locked up and treat you like his dog-servant-thing, and you’d be happy because you’d be the sole object of his attention. (While u may be unaware) He feels the same in reverse, and he wouldn’t do that anyways, because he’s obsessed and he values you more than you value yourself. That’s why it’s unhealthy. And also because you tweak out if he talks to other people at all with anything on his face other than complete and utter indifference…. but hey! You’re working on it. Basically, It’s written um, romantically? Yes I’m romanticizing the codependent yandereisms sue me. But ya not super heart breaking and depressing. just putting that out there because I get really like unreasonably hurt when i read unhealthy -> very sad fics instead of unhealthy -> very in love and reciprocated fics

dykwim?

ugh. I’ll need to write a prequel or something. I want you all to see the way you go from normal and unattached to fighting the urge to stick cameras in his room and huff his underwear. You’re so weird. Stop fantasizing about killing the people he talks to, they dont even exist!

i originally planned to make it as gender neutral as i could but a lot of the scenarios don’t make sense if youre not fem, so that’s that. if that changes throughout the course of writing out the series, i shall let you all know.

also. should i make a playlist?

[dilf-c0nn0isseur]

hey it’s your best friend 😇

can i request a sub logan smut. pls. if not it’s okay. i just need to read something for once instead of writing it and your stuff has me on a chokehold!!

anyways love u!

anything for you bff🤭ilyyyy

sub!logan x fem!reader - SMUT! MDNI!

a/n: for the purpose of this specific writing, be aware reader possesses telekinetic abilities.

wc: 1.3k

After a long day spent out on a mission, Logan was now lying between your legs, his face resting on your lower abdomen. One of your hands was holding a book you were reading, the other mindlessly twirling around the soft, dark tufts of his hair. His tired eyes looked up at you from where he laid between your thighs. They looked drunk on affection for his lover, every inch of his body in a state of pure bliss as you continued softly playing with his locks.

You took a quick break from the page you were reading to glance down at the man nestled against you and were met with his infatuated gaze. “Hi,” you spoke gently with a smile. The harsh side of Logan that he showed the rest of the world was not the side of him that he portrayed while with you. Despite his unrelenting stubborn attitude and brisque nature, there was a soft spot that only you were lucky enough to experience. 

“Gorgeous, gorgeous girl,” Logan murmured, his chin now resting just above the hem of your underwear. Your hand moved to caress his cheek. He nuzzled into it, eyes still fixated on yours. 

“Tired?”

“Just wanna be close to you, Bub.” 

The idea of him, tired and pining for your touch and affections after an exhausting mission, sent a wave of arousal through your body, down to your core which manifested itself in a wet spot that appeared against the thin fabric of your underwear. As much as you loved the dominant side of Logan that took control over you and had you answering to his every beck and call, it was just as erotic to see him fall under acquiescent spells such as this. Although this was quite rare for him, you enjoyed every last second of it.

Logan’s breath hitched in his throat as his next inhale caught the strong scent of your arousal, something he was specially attuned to with his gifted sense of smell.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned. “You smell so good.”

You cocked your head down at him, an eyebrow raised. “You like the smell of my wet pussy, huh Logan?” 

The sudden change in your demeanor made a lump raise in his throat. He was so used to having you wrapped around his finger that he was almost unsure of how to process these emotions. He indulged in another long inhale, his eyebrows furrowed at the scent radiating off of your body. “I don’t like it baby, I fucking love it.” 

His hands traveled up to your sides, fingers hooking into your underwear at an attempt to slip them off. Instead of giving in just yet, you decided to take advantage of his unusual state of submission. Your book now forgotten on the bedside table, you used your hands as leverage to slide yourself back away from him, pressed against the bed frame behind you. Logan frowned at the space you just created. 

“Get back here,” he grunted. Words that would usually have completely different meaning, his possession over you, now had a tinge of pleading laced in them. You caught onto this and an amused look fell over your face.

“Are you asking?”

He slid up so that he was on his knees, resting back on his heels. “You know I don’t ask-”

His retaliation was interrupted as you pulled your panties down to your knees, and then let them fall around your ankles. He let out a low hiss as you let one leg fall open, and then the other, revealing the sight of your dripping pussy. Your hand slid teasingly slow down between your spread thighs, running around your clit in circles. His lips parted slightly in surprise and his eyes were immediately captivated on the sight of you touching yourself.

“Fuck, I need to touch you.” His voice had grown shaky with desperation. He leaned forward, making an attempt to crawl towards you and satiate his need, but he was frozen still. When he realized what you had done, he let out a low, defeated moan. “That’s not fucking fair.”

A cocky laugh escaped your lips as you focused your mind on holding him still, the only contact made being his eyes on your pussy. “Am I hearing this right?,” you continued your charade. “Is Logan Howlett begging?”

Logan’s face began to flush with warmth, embarrassment but, underneath that, a hint of arousal. You released your invisible hold on him without warning and he stumbled forward slightly. His boxers grew tight around his forming erection. “Say ‘please’,” you pushed further.

 He pressed his lips together and met your eyes again. When a few seconds passed with his hesitation to outright beg, you let a finger slide through your folds, from your clit to your entrance, and slip in. “Say ‘please’, and you can have it.”

“Fuck, please,” he all but moaned, rock hard now. “Please let me taste you.”

Your eyes glistened with satisfaction and spread your legs a little further, now inviting him in. 

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, I promise.” He said this unprompted, overtaken by his desire to taste you.

“Then get down here and prove it, Bub.”

Your mockery of his own phrase made him groan as he resumed his crawl up to your pussy. Before he had the chance to let his lips make contact with your clit, you slipped a hand through his hair, gathering it with a firm grip, and forcing his face into you. You heard a low whimper from him. A whimper. His hands flew to your thighs, not only for support, but for more contact.

“Show me how bad you wanted this.”

Logan planted a wet kiss against your clit, followed by him wrapping his lips around it, sucking. He began kissing down, and back up again. He was making out with your pussy. 

“Slut,” you managed to hiss through clenched teeth. This earned a groan from him and he looked up at you through hooded eyes as he let his tongue flick back and forth against your now swollen clit. Your grip on his hair tightened and forced him closer against you. “Faster.”

He sped up his pace obediently. “How’s that?,” he managed to ask without stopping, his voice muffled and sending vibrations through your core. Logan was seeking your validation, wanting to know that he was pleasing you. Your head fell back against the pillow. “Just like that. Just like that, baby.”

Your approval only increased his desire to please.

Your free hand slid over his larger one that was gripping your thigh and forced it between your legs. With his tongue still working tirelessly at your clit, you guided his fingers toward your dripping hole where they easily slid in, with the aid of you pushing them in. 

“God Logan, you’re perfect.”

This earned yet another moan from him. He began dutifully pumping two fingers in and out of you, curling them up to hit your sweet spot. “Fuck, right there, keep fucking doing that.”

You managed to lift your head up for a split second to drink in the beautiful sight at your hips. Logan’s jaw muscles strained as he fucked your clit with his tongue, his two fingers invisible as they worked at your insides, hearing the sounds that escaped him as he lost himself in his desire to please you. Seeing this pushed you towards your climax and he felt your walls tighten around his fingers. 

“Let me finish you off,” he almost begged. “Want your cum all over my face.”

His dedicated pleads tightened that knot inside of your stomach and with a couple more curls of his fingers, his tongue never faltering at your clit, you came undone. Your back arched and your hips bucked into his face, praises falling from your lips.

“You’re so good, such a good boy for me Logan.”

As your orgasmed finished out, you cupped a hand to his cheek and lifted his face up to look at you. His lips glistened with your cum, his beard not spared. “God Logan, you’re perfect.” His head rested against your stomach, resuming how the two of you had previously been laying. 

“All I ever wanna do is make you feel good,” he said, placing soft kisses against your skin. “I live for you.”

[cowboybeepboop]

Could you do something with Scott and Reader where the reader is a virgin. I like how soft you write Scott. Kate and reader are like sisters and one night while everyone is drinking the topic of sex comes up and Kate let's it slip the reader is a virgin (shes super drunk). The reader is so embarrassed she runs out crying so Scott goes after her. He ask why she never told him and she told him she was scared he wouldn't want her anymore since she was experienced to that Scott tells her that's anything from the truth that he loves her and says when she's ready they can take the next step she tells him she is and has been that he is the first guy she has ever loved and felt safe with enough to take that step. Scott also makes a comment that it's hot and it's sexy she's a virgin and a turn on. Feel free to add to the idea or take things away to make it make sense.

Pairing: Scott Miller x fem! Reader

Genre: Smut, fluffy and romantic

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: Virgin reader, possessive/jealous scott, oral fem receiving, unprotected sex.

a/n: Not gonna lie, I just now realized you said “like” sisters and not just sisters, but I’ve decided to leave it anyway. I hope you enjoy! As always my requests are open <3

You and Scott have been dating for a few months. And he has made *no* effort to make any moves sexually, other than some hand stuff here and there in recent times. On the one hand, this comes as a relief because you’re still a virgin (something he isn't exactly aware of) but at the same time you really wish he would take things to the next level.

As Kate's younger, more outgoing sister, she's always made an effort to keep you away from her friends. Not wanting you to get involved with anyone romantically, unfortunately her plan failed when it came to Scott. She has been a little less than supportive of this relationship since she doesn't want to see him break your heart and doesn't want it to affect her friend group.

While you understand Kate’s wariness, you feel exhausted with her obsessive worry. It first started when she introduced you to Javi, perhaps because you immediately started to crush on him.

Either way, you’ve completely involved yourself in her friend group, regardless of her disdain for it. The two of you have a rocky sibling relationship at times, but it usually doesn't come up/out in front of your friends.

Today, however, things have been different. You're all hanging out at Tylers place, playing games and drinking. The tension between you and Kate has been building after an argument you had earlier regarding your relationship with Scott.

Kate has been frustrated with you for dating him, even though she had told you not to get romantically involved with any of her friends. You get why but at the same time it's not like you can control who you fall for, right?

“Hey, Y/N?” Scott presses his hand to your shoulder, “Is everything okay?” he shakes you out of your thoughts.

“Hm?” you turn to look up at him with a dazed smile. “Oh, yeah everythings fine, I was just lost in thought.” Scott is slightly amused at how distracted you are, he finds your spacey nature endearing. He takes a seat next to you, a smirk on his lips.

He can tell that something is bothering you, he raises an eyebrow, a little doubtful of your half-truth. His thumb gently strokes the skin of your upper arm idly. “What’re you thinkin’ about, ‘sweetheart’?”

“Nothing important,” your smile grows as you lean into Scotts warm body, “I’ll tell you later.” He chuckles as you practically curl up on him, he finds it adorable how clingy you get. He drapes an arm over your shoulder, pulling you in closer as he gives you a smirk, he can tell that something's off.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just lets his hand wander to your waist. “Is that right? It doesn’t have anything to do with that little argument you got into with Kate…?” you groan.

“You know me too well.” you sigh, hand falling to his thigh, fingers rubbing soft patterns into his leg.

His eyes follow your fingers and he lets out a soft sigh, his mind drifting to other places. He gives you a slight nudge. “Cmon, talk. What was the argument about?” you shake your head in protest.

“I don’t wanna talk about it right now,” you pout your lips at him, chin resting on his chest. His eyes lock in on your lips, he gently cups your chin, his thumb softly stroking your lower lip.

Kate can't help but hear the conversation from a separate table where she's sitting and talking with Tyler. Her eyes drift over to you and Scott, watching the two of you sitting pretty close together. She gets annoyed, watching the way you're clinging to Scott and leaning into him.

She frowns, turning to Tyler who's watching her and you with a raised eyebrow. "You know, it might do you some good to just chill out. Let her have a little freedom." You glance over at Kate and Tyler, seeing her stern stare causes you to straighten in your seat, pulling away from Scott ever so slightly.

Boone’s loud voice breaks up all the side conversations, “We should all play truth or dare.” he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Kate lets out a groan, "We're not teenagers." Scott frowns and gives your waist a gentle squeeze. He can tell that you’re pulling away from him because of Kate. He really doesn’t like her meddling in your relationship, when it so obviously isn't her concern.

Boone smiles, "Just cause we're not teens doesn't mean we can't have *fun*."

Kate rolls her eyes, despite her reservations she does think it could be a fun game. She's already a little bit drunk from the couple of beers she's had yet she continues sipping on one.

“It really could be fun,” you grin at Boone, encouraging his proposition.

"See, someone gets me." he smiles back at you.

Tyler is also on board for the game, he grabs another drink. "Alright, I'm game. Should we do dares or no dares?"

Kate thinks for a second, she isn't in the mood to do some stupid dare. "No dares, just truths." you roll your eyes at her boring suggestion, everyone knows the dares are the best part of the game.

As the game draws on the conversation drifts to everyone's worst experiences and first times. Kate can see how quiet and anxious you're getting as everyone starts to share their experiences. She's also dreading someone will ask her to spill some of her secrets. You're starting to get restless in your seat, heart pounding fast as you pray no one asks you anything about sex.

Boone seems to be a little annoyed at how no one has been asked anything difficult yet and turns to Kate. "Alright, Kate. Your turn, when did you lose your virginity?" As Boone asks his question Kate can see your eyes on her.

She finishes off the last of her beer and is starting to feel more than just tipsy and a little bit out of it. She's trying to avoid spilling any of her own secrets and takes her time before answering. Javi, noticing her discomfort, turns to ask you a question.

"Hey, Y/N. What about you? When did yo-" Javi is cut off as Kate abruptly interrupts him, a little tipsy.

"She's a *virgin*." Your cheeks turn a dark red as the words leave her mouth. You can feel all the eyes on you, most importantly, Scotts eyes on you.

Scott can’t help the way his eyes widen as Katie blurts out that you’re a virgin. *Of course* he had his suspicions, but they were just suspicions, it’s why he's so cautious about taking things further. But now, now he knows it’s true.

Scott can feel your body tense and his hand on your waist clenches involuntarily. The words ring through his mind as he processes it. “You’re… a virgin…?”

You abruptly stand off the couch, Scotts hand falling from your body as you glare over at your sister. “What the fuck Kate?” tears begin to pool in your eyes as you glare at her before quickly leaving the house.

The rest of the group stays quiet after your exit, not quite sure what just happened. Scott jumps to his feet and dashes out the door after you. He knows he has to do damage control fast, he has to make sure you don’t take this to heart.

He steps outside, the cool air making the blood rush to his cheeks as he spots you near the edge of the porch. “Hey, Sweetheart?”

You don't respond, instead you bury your face into your hands, body trembling as you silently sob. “Hey, hey… ” Scott reaches you quickly and pulls you into his arms. He can feel your shaking, he can see the way your shoulders are shuddering and it makes his heart ache.

He pulls you onto his lap as he takes a seat on the steps of the porch, his hands are gently rubbing your back, trying to soothe you as he pulls you in tighter. “Don’t cry… sweetheart, don’t cry…”

You hide your face in his chest, “I’m sorry,” you murmur, voice muffled by his shirt.

“Hey, don’t apologize. There’s nothing to apologize for.” Scott gently takes your chin with his hand and lifts you up to look at him. He can see the trail of tears running down your cheeks. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You avert your gaze, eyes lowering. “I…” your words get stuck in your throat as more tears spill from your eyes.

“Hey, look at me,” he grips your chin a little tighter, forcing you to look at him, “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks again, more sternly this time. He’s not angry with you, he’s just confused, a hundred thoughts all running through his head.

“I just, *really* liked you,” you begin, eyes searching his, “and I thought that you wouldn't want me if you knew I was..” your voice breaks as you speak.

Scott gently strokes your cheek with his thumb, wiping away the tears, “Sweetheart, look at me, I’m going to ask you something and I need you to be honest with me, alright?”

“Okay..” you bite down on your lips, worried about what he’s going to ask. “What is it?” you hiccup, cheeks still flushed with your embarrassment.

Scott takes a moment to collect his thoughts, he chooses his words carefully. “Are you… saving yourself…?” He’s pretty sure you’ll catch his drift.

“I, no,” you start, trying to find the words to explain, “I’ve just never. You know, felt like it was the right time..” you trail off.

Scott nods slowly, his eyes scanning your face as his thumb moves to the corner of your lip. His mind is still processing all of this information, and now he just has even more questions. “Have you ever even kissed someone before me?”

“A few times,” you murmur, hands moving to his sides.

Scott furrows his eyebrows, his head tilted curiously as he looks at you. “How far have you gone with other guys?”

You groan, pressing your head to his shoulder, embarrassed with the question. “I’ve uhm, you know..” you trail your fingers up and down his back, “I’ve done hand stuff and other things.” you whisper.

“Things like…?” Scott can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy as you start to tell him about your past.

“Scott,” you breathe out his name with a soft whine.

Scott’s hand on your back clenches involuntarily at the way you whine his name. He can sense your hesitation. “C’mon sweetheart, tell me more.”

“Well, I’m not entirely inexperienced.” you sigh, “Like I’ve done oral too.. Just never actual sex..”

Scott’s heart clenches as you confess this information. His mind starts to wander to thoughts of you with other guys. “How many guys have you done these things with?”

“A few..” you keep your answer vague, unwilling to let him know all the details.

Scott can clearly tell you’re uncomfortable discussing these topics with him, and the thought of you with other guys has him almost upset. He clears his throat, trying to get the image of you in some other guy's arms out of his head.

“Okay, enough questions, let's get out of here.” He slowly stands up, “I’m taking you home.” you nod and follow him to his car, settling into the passenger seat as he starts the engine.

Scott starts the drive back to your house, the ride is mostly silent as he’s still thinking everything over. He tries to steal a glance at you a few times, still processing everything that just happened.

After a few minutes, Scott breaks the silence. “Sweetheart, can I ask you something?”

“Mhm,” you turn to face him, “Ask away.”

Scott’s quiet for a moment, his eyes focused on the road. “You’ve never… wanted to…?” Scott trails off as he struggles to phrase the question.

Your hand finds its way to his lap, “Do you mean in general?” your gaze going out the window, “Or with you?”

“With me…” Scott feels your hand on his lap and it makes his heart skip a beat for a moment. He glances over at you, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes.

He pulls into your driveway, the tension in the cab growing with every second you stay quiet “Scott..”

Scott slowly parks the car and turns to you. His eyes lock on yours, his heart beating fast as he waits for the answer to his question. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

Your fingers trace circles into his thigh, hand growing closer to his crotch. “I’ve only ever thought about going all the way with you..” you whisper the last part, cheeks turning pink with the confession.

Scott's breath catches in his chest as your fingers trace closer and closer, his mind races with the information you've just given him. The words you whisper send a shiver down his spine, and he can't help but watch your hand. "You... you thought about it?"

“I’ve thought about it,” you confirm, “You're the first guy I’ve ever loved..” you gulp, this is the first time you’ve uttered the word to him.

Scott's mind reels as he processes your words. This is the first time you’ve confessed your feelings to him. He swallows the lump forming in his throat, his heart beating faster with every passing second as a warm feeling settles in his chest.

He reaches down and gently grabs your hand, stilling it from its wandering. His voice is low and gravelly as he speaks, “Say it again.”

“Scott, I love you.” His breath hitches and he closes his eyes for a moment, soaking in the sound of your voice. He opens his eyes and looks over at you, gaze filled with warmth and affection.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” he softly tugs you closer to him, his hand gently cupping your chin and guiding your lips to his. The kiss quickly turns heated as you move to straddle his lap, hands tangling in his hair.

Scott moans into your mouth, his arms wrapping around your waist as you straddle his lap. His hands glide up and under your shirt, feeling the skin between your hips and your ribs. He feels the heat coursing through his veins as you tangle your hands in his hair, tugging just slightly and he bites your bottom lip in response, a stifled gasp escaping his lips.

Your lips move to his neck, pressing hot kisses into his skin as his fingers send shivers down your spine. Scott groans as you move to his neck, his head tilting back giving you more access as your hot lips work over the skin.

His fingers trail up to the base of your spine, lightly tracing up and down in slow motions, feeling the bumps of your spine under his fingertips. His breaths come out raspy and uneven, his breathing quickening as you kiss along his collarbone.

“Scott, should we go inside?” you murmur between kisses, feeling his hand slip into your shorts.

Scott’s mind is so clouded with desire that he has to take a moment to register your words. He can feel your lips moving against his skin and his breath hitches as your words finally register in his mind. “Yeah, yeah… let’s go inside…”

He gently sets you back in your seat and hops out of the car, almost tripping on his feet in his haste to get to your side of the car and open the door for you. You smile at him as you get out, taking his hand as you lead him to your door and unlock it.

Scott follows you inside your house, his heart still racing and body buzzing with heat. He closes the door behind him as soon as you step inside.

Scott steps up behind you, hands finding their way to your sides as he nuzzles his face into your neck, his hot breath on your skin. You press back into him, guiding his hands down your sides, silently asking him to take things further.

Scott’s breath hitches as you press into him, his hands skimming over your hips and down to your thighs. He leaves a trail of hot kisses along the side of your neck, his teeth gently grazing against your skin.

He spins you around, pushing your back against the door as he moves to press his body flush against you, his hands moving to grip your hips. “You’re driving me crazy, sweetheart…” he whispers into your ear.

“Scott, please.” you moan out, hands going to unbutton his jeans, “I need you,”

Scott stumbles back as you start to unbutton his jeans, his hands roaming over your body, desperate to feel you. The thought of you *needing* him sends a shot of heat straight to his core and he groans, pushing you towards your room.

His hands move desperately over your body as you walk, discarding clothes in a messy trail behind you. Sitting down on the edge of your bed, you unclasp your bra, making you entirely nude in front of him. You look up at him, eyes full of lust and desire.

Scott is completely captivated as you sit down and finally reveal yourself to him. His eyes trail up and down your body, taking in every inch of your skin. He can feel his heart beating faster in his chest, his breath quickening as his eyes roam over your body.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he mutters, his voice husky with desire. He takes a step towards you, his hands reaching out to touch you, to feel your soft skin.

A low growl escapes his lips as he moves to kneel between your legs, his hands roaming over your body, tracing every contour. You spread your legs wider for him, welcoming his movements as you moan at his needy hands.

Scott settles between your legs, his hands roaming up your thighs, feeling the skin as he looks up at you. His eyes are almost black with desire as he looks up at you from his position between your legs. He swallows, his throat dry as he takes in the sight of you, spread out on the bed before him.

His hands move up to your hips, gripping them and pulling you closer to him, his thumbs tracing small circles into your skin. “You’re so perfect, sweetheart.” he says, his voice low and rough.

Your fingers tangle in his hair as you move your hips closer to him, “Please, I need you..” you bite on your lip.

With trembling hands, he gently pushed your legs apart, his gaze never leaving yours. The sight of you, laying bare before him, sent a rush of heat to his cheeks and a thrill through his body. He leaned in, his breath hot against your inner thighs as he whispered, "I've been waiting for this."

His voice was a mix of excitement and nerves, a testament to the importance of this moment. The soft caress of his tongue on your skin was like an electric shock, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

He took his time, savoring every inch of you with the finesse of a man who'd been waiting for this moment for a lifetime. His kisses grew more urgent as he found your sweet spot, making you gasp and arch your back. You could feel his passion, his need to make this first time perfect for you.

As he tasted you, Scott felt as if he'd found home. Each moan and whimper from your lips was like a symphony to his ears, guiding him in his exploration. His hands held you firmly, supporting your hips as he devoured you, eager to give you the pleasure that had been building between you both for so long.

Your legs wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as the intensity grew, your body begging for more. He could feel you getting closer, the tension in your muscles tightening as you approached the edge.

His mouth worked faster, his tongue flicking and sucking with purpose. You were so wet, so ready for him, and the thought of finally being inside you was almost too much to bear. But he didn't rush, not wanting to miss a single second of this intimate dance.

And then, with a sharp cry, you fell over the edge, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. Scott held you firmly, his mouth never leaving your sex, as he drew out every last tremor of your orgasm.

You collapsed against the bed, limp and trembling, your nails digging into his scalp as you tried to process the intensity of what had just happened.

He kissed his way up your body, his hands gliding over your skin as he moved over you, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

His eyes searched yours for permission, and finding it, he settled between your legs once more, his erection pressing against your entrance. You were so sensitive now, so open to him. "Are you sure about this Y/N?" His voice is husky and full of caution.

"Fuck, yes, please." You moan, begging for more. He pushed in gently, feeling the resistance of your body as it clung to its innocence. You gasped, your eyes widening with a mix of pain and pleasure.

Scott paused, waiting for you to adjust, to tell him if you needed him to stop. But you just nodded, urging him on with a whisper, "More." So he did, inch by inch, filling you up until he was fully sheathed within you. The connection was overwhelming, a bond stronger than any he'd ever felt.

He started to move, his hips rocking slowly, giving you time to get used to the feeling of him inside you. You moaned, your hands gripping the bed sheets as he picked up the pace. Each stroke sent a jolt of electricity through you, making your toes curl and your back arch. He watched your face intently, reading every expression, making sure he was giving you what you needed.

Scott leaned down to kiss you, his mouth hungry and desperate as he claimed yours. The room was filled with the sound of your ragged breaths and the wet slap of skin on skin.

He could feel your muscles tightening around him, your body preparing for another release. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear, telling you how much he loved you, how perfect you were, how much he needed this.

You moaned against his mouth, your nails digging into his back as the pleasure grew. "Scott," you breathed, "You're so hot." The words slipped out without thought, but the truth was undeniable.

His body was a work of art, and having him take your virginity was the most erotic experience you could imagine. He pulled back to look at you, his eyes dark and intense.

"You have no idea how much I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with passion. "It’s such a turn on for me to be the one claiming you like this." He thrust deeper, making you gasp. "Only me, sweetheart."

You could feel the heat building between you, your body tightening around him as he hit that perfect spot over and over again. His words sent shivers down your spine, the realization that he truly cared for you and was just as invested in this moment as you were.

It was more than just sex; it was a declaration of love, a promise of forever. Scott's pace grew faster, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he felt his own climax approaching. "You're mine," he growled, his teeth sinking into your neck as he claimed you. "All mine."

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as you felt yourself teetering on the brink. "I love you," you whispered, your voice breaking with emotion.

With a final, powerful thrust, Scott released inside you, his body shaking with the force of his orgasm. You followed quickly, your own pleasure crashing over you like a wave, leaving you trembling and gasping for air.

He collapsed on top of you, his weight comforting and reassuring as your hearts hammered together. The room was quiet except for your heavy breaths and the sound of your hearts beating as one. He kissed your neck, his hands never leaving your body as you both came down from the intense high.

You nodded, unable to form words as the gravity of the moment settled over you. You'd given him something precious, something no one else would ever have. And in return, he'd given you an experience that would be burned into your memory forever.

As you lay there, sweat-soaked and utterly spent, you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace. Despite Kate's earlier betrayal, you knew that this was where you were meant to be, in Scott's arms, sharing something beautiful and life-changing.

Scott pulled out slowly, his eyes never leaving yours as he looked at you with a mix of love and awe. He leaned over to kiss you softly, his hand cupping your cheek.

You gave him a small smile, your eyes shining with unshed tears of pleasure. "Thank you," you murmur, "For making it so perfect."

He kissed you again, a gentle brush of his lips against yours. "It's only the beginning, sweetheart." He stood up, pulling you with him to tuck you into bed, your bodies still entwined.

You snuggled closer, feeling safe and loved. For the first time in a long time, you felt like everything was going to be okay. Kate's cruelty was forgotten in the face of Scott's gentle touch and the warmth of his love. Tonight, you had found your place in the world, and it was in his arms.

[hanaruri-tunes]

The demons’ reactions to Y/N asking them to fuck them (headcanons/short scenarios)

⚠️ As usual MDNI!!!

The MC can be whichever gender you want in this one. (Pretty sure I managed to keep it ambiguous?)

What follows are individual scenarios btw, it’s not MC asking every single one of them at the same time haha (I could write one like that as well though if people like this one? Not sure of how well it would turn out but I could.)

Anyway, enjoy 👇

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Lucifer

He could tell something was different right away. You’re not the type to be shy with them and particularly not him. Sometimes your blatant disrespect towards him is refreshing… sometimes it’s infuriating, and yet here you are now, shifting in place, fiddling with your hands and looking down nervously. It catches his attention right away.

"Is something wrong? Y/N, if something is troubling you, you can tell me. In fact, please do so freely."

"...lease …uck me."

"...Excuse me?"

Surely he heard wrong, no matter how honest you are, there’s no way you would ask something like that with no build up-

"Please, fuck me…"

"..."

Lucifer puts his hand over his mouth, trying to hide his delight in vain. He has always wondered how to go about it, what to plan, how to charm you and get you in the palm of his hands. To think that you would come marching right ahead, falling into his hands on your own just like that. He approaches you, taking you into his arms, feeling up your body against his.

"But of course, no need to be so shy about it. Shall we go upstairs Dear?"

Mammon

Mammon felt like something was a bit different about you tonight. You kept coming closer to him, more than usual, brushing over him, smiling at him in a special way. Were you seducing him? Because if you were, it was 100% effective! But well, wouldn't it be rude to point it out? What if you stop? What if it wasn’t on purpose? So he keeps quiet and you get more and more frustrated with his inaction until it explodes.

"...Don’t you want to fuck me?!"

"Wha- Yes?!?"

Thinking twice? He didn’t even think once. He was surprised for sure but when you ask for something like this, there’s only one correct answer to give. In a flash, he pounces on you.

"Anytime, anyday, whenever you want. Please only come to me Y/N…"

Leviathan

You were harder to handle today than you usually are. Leviathan is used to holding his breath when you hug him or kiss him on the cheek. He’s used to looking away when you bend down or shutting his eyes tight when your face gets too close. But today? Today was different. You kept clinging to him, not giving him any personal space. Constantly praising and teasing him. His heart had skipped at least eleven beats in total, and even that might still be an understatement. Levi ends up breaking, asking you outright if something is wrong.

"C-Could it be that you want something from me? Sorry, I really don’t know um, if uh. Well I just don’t understand where you're getting at."

You hold back the urge to facepalm, well, it’s not like you didn’t see it coming. Leviathan thinks that he’s so unattractive that no one, and especially not you, could ever want him.

You press yourself against him, circling your fingertips on his chest.

"Jeez, you really are an idiot sometimes Leviathan… I want to fuck you. You get it now?"

His third member rises immediately at the request while his mind is still buffering.

"Uhh?? Um, y-yeah? I mean, errr. Are you like, 100- no, 1000% sure? O-Out of all my brothers me??? Isn’t that um, of course I’m not judging but maybe I’m not-"

You kiss him on the corner of his lips, shutting him up.

"I only want you to fuck me, can you do that?"

"Y-Yes. Anything you want...! ♡"

Satan

There he was again, nose stuck in his books. However your perfume caught his attention right away. You always smell nice but this fragrance was different from your usual scent. It was more mature, more seductive, more… He looks up to you, even your clothes show more than usual. Your hairstyle is different as well. Are you going out? So then why did you come to him? He coughs.

"Excuse me for staring. You look very good. Is there a soirée tonight that I’m not aware of?"

You look to the side, a bit flustered. Without a word you sit next to him on the sofa, then you slide your hand on his knee, not daring to go up to his thigh yet.

"...Would you like to fuck me?"

"..."

Silence.

He’s processing your request, making sure he understands your intentions. After a couple of seconds that seemed to go on forever, Satan closes his book and leaves it on the table. Then he leans over you, encouraging your hand to go higher on his thighs.

"Well, since you asked so politely how could I ever turn you down, hm?"

Asmo

He can tell right away what you really want since he is the avatar of lust. However he lets it play out, curious to see how you’ll go about it. Will you be all shy and cute or will you be more confident? He enjoys seeing the gears turning in your head as you’re awkwardly holding your hands together, sweating from the pressure. However he doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable when asking for something as wonderful as sex, especially with him since he is quite the fanatic.

"Relax your shoulders and breathe Y/N♡"

He places his hands on your shoulders, sliding them down your arms then going back up only to fall down again, on your back this time. He starts massaging you, whispering sweet nothings in your ears, making you comfortable and eager rather than nervous and scared.

"...Asmo?"

"Mh-hm?~"

"I’d like you to fuck me, is that okay?"

He stops, then pulls you over. Your back against his chest, he whispers his answer.

"What a coincidence, that’s what I’ve wanted to do to you since the very first time we met♡ How lucky that you asked for it first..."

Beel

Beel is devouring a rotisserie chicken in the kitchen… again. It seems like that’s all he does, everytime you want to find an appropriate moment to ask, well, it never is a good moment. You look at him, your spirits down, readying yourself to leave as usual. Surprisingly, he stops you and invites you to sit down.

"Y/N… Lately you always look sad when I see you. Would you like some? You know if you’re hungry you can always ask me to share."

"That’s not it Beel…"

You look down, discouraged from asking for it. All Beel always thinks and talks about is food anyway. Will he even care if you ask him something like that? Maybe he has no interest in such things, or in you.

Beel puts the food down, looking grim.

"Beel? What’s wrong…?"

"It’s difficult to enjoy the food when you look down, somehow even the taste turns foul when you’re sad."

Your chest feels tight at his words, maybe it would be good to just be honest and get it over with.

"Beel, truth is- Uhh. ... I want you to f-fuck me… But well, I can understand if you’re not interested in that sort of stuf-"

Beel’s eyes light up, his gaze stuck on you.

He takes you into his arms, carrying you out of the kitchen, heading up the stairs.

"B-Beel?!"

"That’s all you wanted? Should’ve said so earlier, I’ll finally be able to quench my hunger for a while."

Belphegor

You came to wake him as you do every morning, since you’re apparently the most skilled at this task according to the others. Still, some days it’s a challenge even for you. Like today for instance: he keeps complaining, bitching and moaning. You’d like to make this easy for the both of you but it’s complicated to keep finding different ways to encourage him to get up. Kisses, hugs, dates, and the exact same offers rarely work for over 3 times in a row. It pisses you off, could it be that he just got tired of you already?

You give up and lie down next to him, sulking and muttering.

"Asshole… What if I asked you to fuck me. Bet you wouldn’t even care, hm?"

Belphie’s eyes shot wide open, then he turned over to you. Extremely attentive to your every move and word.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Only good boys who get up at reasonable times have a right to have a go at me."

He clings onto you greedily, begging you to repeat.

"Come on, pleeease? I’ll get up right away if you ask for it."

"Nope, too late to smother me now."

He puts his hand on your waist, grabbing it firmly and pulling you towards him into the bed.

"...Please? I’ll make you feel so good you’ll be the one to ask to stay in bed."

You ponder it for a bit… Well. Truthfully, you do want him so- Shyly, you ask him.

"Mh. Then um. Will you fuck me good…?"

You feel him smile against your neck, and he answers.

"I promise I won’t let you go until you’re completely satisfied with me. ♡"

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Doneee.

And my askbox is open just so y’all know, no promises on anything but do know that anything you send will definitely be seen/read even if I might not be able to answer to everything! I don’t know if I can say that my "commissions" are open but if you send me ideas and I like them, there is a chance I might write some stuff based on them 🫰

[ghostgirl101]

writing for william afton?? Yeah sure I'll get craaaazy ヘ⁠(⁠￣⁠ω⁠￣⁠ヘ⁠) you can write headcanons of anything, really, I just want to hold this man and be extremely and overly affectionate with him (⁠灬⁠º⁠‿⁠º⁠灬⁠) (and and jealousy trope is so aaaaaa you can write something with that, right??? :33)

William Afton/Steve Raglan Being Obsessed With You Would Include...

A/N: Yeap, let's start with obsessive relationship stuff, and then I'll work on a request for jealous headcanons. Hope this is in character, I tried to make it as accurate as I could with what I could work with from the movie. Requests for the FNAF movie are still open if you want me to work on a scenario; just make sure its no smut and platonic or childhood sweethearts for any of the animatronics/missing children 🙃

🐰• Well, good luck getting out of whatever craziness you've somehow gotten yourself into. That's the first thing I'm gonna say ._.

🐰• You probably meet William as "Steve," the careers counsellor who asks a little too many personal questions for it to be strictly business-related, but then, he's got to know who you are to find a job that fits in with your life and personality. He seems normal enough, though there is a slight intensity in the way his eyes linger on you for a beat too long, and his questions become more specific and a bit non-contextual.

🐰• By the end of the interview, he offers you the place of a nightguard at Freddy's, giving you his card with a casual half-smile and going out of his way to show you the ropes. Then you start the job, as oddly unsettling and dark the environment seems, and you think that it's the last time you'll hear from him.

🐰• It's not 😏

🐰• Steve knows a lot about you from your files that he went through before, and from what you told him, and he's got a good memory. He copied all the information down, storing it safely at home, going through pictures and any sources he can find about you in some unplaced interest. William's very calm and calculated, and there's no way he'd be found out unless he let it happen or wanted you to find out for yourself.

🐰• So until he's ready to reveal his dark side completely, which will slip out in little actions and hints when you spend time with him, he's simply Steve Raglan, the relatively normal careers counsellor who keeps checking in on you to see how you're getting on with the job, often going out for a coffee to give you "advice" in his breaks. Anything to pry out more information from you, for him to understand what exactly it is about you that intrigues him.

🐰• Is it because you're unusually pretty? Clever? Quirky? To William, you're just a bit different, maybe a bit childish, or mature and deep, dark-humoured? Whatever it is, it caught his attention, which is a good thing, if you want it... and if it's not, well, you're stuck with it anyway.

🐰• You'll notice quite early on that he's a bit odd himself, maybe a bit invasive, possessive, especially for someone you haven't known for that long. If someone looks over at you for a second too long while you're having coffee with Steve, having a conversation that's veered off of references and employee skills to some personal aspect or interest in your life that he's cracked open. You'll see a shot of something dark pass through his blueish gaze before it passes almost as soon as it comes, and you'll know nothing more about it except never seeing that person again. Just another missing person to add to a list.

🐰• Same with if you happen to be seeing anyone; he's got his own ways to scare people off, and if that doesn't work, he'll be forced to do something a little messier. Again, you won't know a thing about it, and there'll be no proof, no body, no big questions. Suddenly your partner has run off on a job out of the country or broken up with you via text... and Steve will be around to "see how you're doing" and to pick up the pieces when you end up spilling more about what's been going on in your life and exposing more vulnerability. It gives William a rush, in a way, to be needed and ran to and relied on when something goes bad, especially if it's you looking up at him with big pleading eyes. He can only smile and squeeze your hand, not letting go for a long moment as you get yet another drink and finally end up getting somewhere closer to a proper relationship.

🐰• Friends start getting a little distant, past lovers end up disappearing and little conveniences in life become more frequent. Wonder why that is?

🐰• Afton has a great memory, and if you tell him you like something in particular, your favourite show or book, he finds the exact thing by chance in the shop and had to get it for you, just to see your eyes light up and smile thankfully. Or he recorded a new episode of your series for you to watch if you come over on one of the nights you're not working, or he's just finished reading that book, come round to his so you can talk about it some more? He always finds a way to get what he wants, and when it's a person, victim or not, the rule still applies.

🐰• You may not be a victim of violence or murder, but he's got an obsession, an unhealthy desire to watch everything you do, everyone you talk to and in your life. He doesn't name a specific reason for it, doesn't think he needs to, doesn't see the point in it. If you ever catch on to that kind of behaviour, he'll just give you a warm smirk and shrug. "Well, because it's you," is his casual response, though you could swear there's something more behind his eyes. "And I care about you, you know?"

🐰• This is still William Afton though, and for all he can be surprisingly romantic and thoughtful when he thinks to be to see your reaction, he's a sadistic murderer and kidnapper at the end of the day... and it does start to show through. He can be manipulative as we see in the movie, and a bit arrogant, though I don't think he'd outrightly manipulate you. It's more your surroundings and the people you're with. Maybe he'll dig up some dirt on one of your close friends and put it somewhere where you'll find it and cut off the friendship yourself, exactly how he wanted it. And on the occasions when he gets his hands dirty with those types of people, he will get his hands dirty, and enjoys every minute of it. He taunts and mocks them until their dying breath, hating the thought of someone else holding your attention for longer than he can, which only causes more blood to be washed out of clothes and off his skin before you notice.

🐰• I have the idea of William watching you sleep deep in for some reason, since he's affectionate in his own ways, not majorly into PDA or clingy, since he prefers you being the one to run to him. But in the moments when you're not aware that he's around, like when you're sleeping. He'll trace calloused but featherlight fingers across your face, down from your forehead to your cheek and your neck. There's a beat of tensity where you might think he's tempted to do something extreme, something violent, but it passes time and time again. I think the only time William would be tempted to be harsher and forceful is if and when you ever found out about what it is exactly he does, and try betraying him. He wouldn't kill you, nothing like that, but he'd have to lock you away someplace safer...

🐰• But Afton will cross that bridge when he comes to it. For now, it's just an attentive and dependent relationship that William will keep going for as long as he can, accepting any gesture of affection or admiration or any positive attention in general with open arms and a pleased smirk on his face. Life will be pretty easy for you, everything seeming to go your way, and his, he'll make sure of it. And when you finally uncover the truth behind Steve and meet the real William Afton, he'll expect things to stay exactly the same: bloodied hands, spring locks snapping, glowing grey animatronic eyes or not.

[formulaonecrumbs]

switching it up!! still pcos reader, maybe a race. except let’s go with alex albon or daniel ricciardo 🤭

-🧸

not today hormones ✋

Alex Albon x PCOS!reader

summary: reader experiencing a flare up while at track and alex naturally cheering her up.

warnings: pcos mention, chronic pain, alex and his sarcastic ass

A/N: AAHHHHH FINALLY. THIS IS WHAT IVE BEEN WAITING FOR. AN AELX REQUEST. i already wrote for daniel and have (surprisingly) NEVER written for albono so it was time. i feel that i don’t naturally write alex very well (or anyone except lando 😭) but i made him all silly and cute cuz that’s how i see him. imma make a more serious and helpful albono if u so please, all u gotta do is ask. anyways ENJOY, 🧸!!! LOVE U.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

it starts with your alarm not going off.

which means you wake up twenty-five minutes later than planned, heart pounding, hair a mess, and your suitcase only halfway packed. your phone buzzes violently against the nightstand — a string of texts from alex, each one more worried than the last.

alex:

where r u

u ok??

do i need to come rescue u from a sleep coma again

he would, too. dramatic little menace.

you send him a quick “omw don’t panic” text and rush through the rest of your morning with exactly zero grace. makeup half-done. hair thrown up. you’re pretty sure you put two different socks on, but there’s no time to fix it. it’s either that or miss your flight to barcelona, and alex will absolutely never let you live that down.

by the time you make it to the paddock the next day, you’re sore, irritable, and bloated beyond belief. your body’s staging a full-on hormonal protest — classic pcos. your jeans feel tight. your skin’s breaking out. you’re half convinced your uterus is trying to punch its way out of your body, and to top it all off, someone hands you a media pass that says “alex’s girlfriend” like it’s a job title.

alex finds you slumped on a folding chair near the williams motorhome, sunglasses on, head tilted back like a dramatic victorian woman fainting on a chaise lounge.

“there she is,” he grins, crouching beside you. “my radiant queen of punctuality.”

you glare at him through your sunglasses. “don’t.”

“what?”

“i swear to god, if you say anything about how late i was or how my face looks like a tomato or how my jeans are cutting off circulation to my soul, i will throw myself into the nearest tyre wall.”

alex lifts his hands in surrender, a smile still playing at his lips. “i was just gonna say hi.”

you eye him suspiciously.

he nudges your knee with the back of his hand. “hi.”

“hi,” you mumble.

“you want to talk about it?” he asks, softer now, eyes scanning your face like he already knows the answer.

you shake your head. “just one of those days. hormone hurricane. pcos is being an asshole.”

he gives you a look — not pitying, not dramatic, just… warm. understanding. “is this the kind of hurricane that needs snacks or space?”

you consider that for a second. “both.”

he stands up immediately. “done. five minutes. trust the snack man.”

you watch him walk away, still wearing his fireproofs and a backwards cap that’s barely hanging on. a few fans wave at him and he waves back, never missing a beat. a kid shouts his name and he shouts back something about being cooler than lando today.

you sigh. leave it to alex albon to be charming even while sourcing snacks.

when he comes back, he’s balancing a water bottle, a banana, a chocolate croissant, and — for some reason — a small stuffed duck wearing a williams hat.

you raise an eyebrow.

“his name’s turbo,” alex says casually. “he’s our emotional support duck.”

“you stole that from the merch table, didn’t you?”

“it was a rescue mission.”

you snort and reach for the croissant. “thanks, honey.”

he plops down beside you on the bench, shoulder pressed into yours, like he’s casually shielding you from the chaos of the paddock.

“you don’t have to thank me,” he says. “your body’s doing its own weird olympics right now. least i can do is bring you carbs and emotional poultry.”

you laugh despite yourself, mouth full of pastry. “you make it sound so noble.”

“it is noble,” he insists. “besides, you put up with me during the off-season. now it’s my turn.”

you bump your head against his shoulder. “you’re annoying.”

“you love it.”

“unfortunately.”

by the time qualifying rolls around, you’re planted in the williams garage, headphones on, duck in lap, watching alex put in a solid session despite the heat. the engineers are buzzing, data flying everywhere, and you can’t help but feel proud — even if you’re still cramping and a little dead inside.

afterwards, he finds you again, towel around his neck, face flushed.

“p10,” he says, still catching his breath. “not bad, right?”

“you’re magic,” you grin.

“you’re biased.”

“always.”

he steals a sip of your water and gives turbo a high five. “how’s the uterus?”

“still raging,” you say. “but the croissant helped.”

“i’ll bring you another tomorrow.”

“turbo demands it.”

alex grins and tugs you up by the hand. “come on. let’s go annoy logan and pretend i’m not sweating like a swamp creature.”

you follow, hand still in his, thinking maybe today wasn’t so bad after all — bloated hormones, chaos and all.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

the moment you get back to the hotel, it hits you like a freight train.

the cramps.

the heat.

the way your bra strap feels like it’s trying to cut into your shoulder blade and your jeans feel like medieval torture. your back aches. your mood’s a mess. you think about crying for literally no reason — like, someone on the street smiled at you and you were like, why would you do that to me right now, and now you’re spiraling.

alex, ever the optimist, holds the door open to your room like you’re royalty.

you barely make it three steps inside before faceplanting onto the bed with a groan that sounds borderline inhuman.

“was it something i said?” he asks lightly, dropping his bag by the window.

“it’s everything,” you mumble into the pillow. “i hate my body. i hate my ovaries. i hate the entire concept of pants.”

“you know,” he says thoughtfully, “if i had a dollar for every time you declared war on pants, i’d probably be able to retire.”

you roll onto your back and glare at the ceiling. “don’t make me laugh. it hurts.”

alex tosses his hat onto the chair, then joins you on the bed with all the grace of someone who’s been in a race car all day and now feels it in every joint. he lets out his own old-man groan before leaning on one elbow and looking down at you with a little frown.

“alright,” he says. “emergency protocol time.”

“what does that even mean.”

“it means,” he says, already leaning down and kissing your forehead gently, “we’re implementing the albon healing system.”

you blink at him.

“patent pending,” he adds, and then — another kiss, this time to your temple. “one kiss for stress.”

you snort. “you made that up just now.”

“obviously. it’s a cutting-edge technique.” kiss. cheek. “this one’s for bloating.” kiss. your jaw. “this is for hormonal rage.” kiss. the tip of your nose. “and this one’s for the fact that i saw you nearly cry when the elevator doors closed too fast.”

“you saw that?”

“sweetheart,” he says, full of dramatic pity, “you whimpered.”

you bury your face in your hands, groaning again. “i hate it here.”

“you love it here.”

“i literally don’t.”

he leans in closer. “you love me, though.”

you peek at him through your fingers. “barely.”

“so rude,” he mutters, but he’s still smiling as he kisses your forehead again — this time lingering, warm and soft and maybe a little too sincere for a moment like this.

you blink. “was that one for anything in particular?”

he shrugs. “felt like it.”

you go quiet for a beat, just listening to the hum of the air conditioner and the distant sound of someone laughing in the hallway. your body still aches — your cramps are making your lower back throb and you’re sure your skin is about to erupt into another breakout — but for the first time all day, it feels… manageable. less like you’re being punished by the universe and more like… okay. you’re okay.

alex rests his chin on your shoulder. “you know,” he says quietly, “you don’t have to pretend it’s not awful. i know it sucks. i see how much it takes out of you.”

you nod slowly. “i just feel gross. and ugly. and dramatic.”

“you’re none of those things,” he says, firm now. “you’re in pain. and your body’s going through hell. and you’re still here, joking about emotional support ducks and cheering me on and pretending to care about tyre compounds.”

you smile faintly. “i do care. mostly.”

“you’re amazing,” he says, with so much certainty it makes your throat tighten. “even when your hormones are trying to kill you.”

you shift closer to him, wrapping your arms around his middle. “thanks for the kisses.”

“anytime.” he presses one to the top of your head. “it’s a full-service treatment. comes with cuddles and optional forehead massages.”

“optional?” you ask, already tugging his hand toward your face. “i think you mean mandatory.”

he laughs, stretching out beside you. “fine, fine. i’ll just cancel my plans to be unconscious and rub your forehead for the next twenty minutes.”

“that’s what love is, albon.”

“i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

you close your eyes as his fingers move gently across your skin, his touch light but steady, and for the first time all day, your body starts to unclench — bit by bit, like it knows it’s safe.

and maybe you’re still bloated and irritable and vaguely on the verge of a meltdown, but alex is here. kissing it better.

and maybe that’s enough.

THE END :>

[eclipseberrycake]

Shattered (Glisten/ T.Glisten x Reader)

AN: I love Glisten, glisten my love. As for how I do it as a student, I try to write as much as I can when I can. For example, I was in a zoom meeting for class and writing this because I find giving myself and my hands something to do while listening makes me more productive so I can knock out some requests and have them ready for when I am busy!

So I was unsure if this was if Reader was in a relationship with Glisten or not, so I tried to explore both options

Edit: y'all thought I forgot about ya today huh? Nope. Weekends just might be a Lil less post happy because it's my rest days so I play dandys world day:)

☁ So, if you aren't in a relationship with Glisten, it's a little different than if you were.

☁ You're probably pretty good friends with him regardless, so seeing him on a run without him by your side makes your stomach churn.

☁ It's a psychological mind-warp, seeing your best friend right there, so broken and desperate. Even just seeing his arms tied together breaks your heart at what could've possibly prompted it.

☁ The missing shards of his face make you sick and you slowly approach him as the others disperse. His twisted immediately notices you. eyes shining as his shoulders relax. "It's you! Stay nearby...Please."

☁ The plea makes you swallow tightly, frowning just a bit as you do as asked anyway.

☁ The thing about the clones is they're still part of the original toon. They don't feel, per se, but they know how the original toons felt and act upon that. It's like knowing what burnt food smells like and acting when you smell it.

☁ When seeing you, his twisted immediately latches onto you. He knows his original counterpart adores you inside and out, and he needs that. He needs that feeling of safety and reliance you provide.

☁ If you're on a run and not babysitting him, he literally goes out of his way to find you. He waits and waits until you notice him and only then will he begin to calm down.

☁ When you sneak off because the last machine is almost done, he immediately grows frantic, yanking at the ribbon around his arms. It's not an immediate shatter, but by the time that last machine dings, he's already panicked. He's tearing his binds to shreds before taking off, yearning to grab you once more before you can leave.

☁ The feeling you give him is addictive and he needs more of it.

☁ Alas, he crashes against the barrier of the elevator, watching you cower as you try not to look at him, which just won't do. He bangs and bangs until the elevator closes, leaving him alone once more to pick up his shattered remains.

☁ Now, if you are?

☁ First, you're hard pressed to go anywhere without Glisten, let alone on a run, but let's say by some miracle. Maybe you have a needed ability and he's injured or something. Either way-

☁ Obviously having gotten used to having Glisten nearby, it's off to go without him.

☁I know me personally? I'd be nervous af.

☁ So you're probably not as ready to run in as you would be if you weren't dating. You have to get back to him safe after all or he'd have a fit.

☁ So when you walk in and hear the familiar echo, you're stomach drops as you threaten to turn right back into the elevator. It closes so you don't get the chance before you're forced to continue on, walking with slowed and careful steps. The less noise you make the better, as it gives...it less of a chance to catch you.

☁ If it were any other twisted, it would be fine. But it was far from fine.

☁ "Thank Goodness you're here."

☁ You swallow tightly as your eyes widen, turning to see the very twisted you were hoping to avoid. Ichor tears are already welling in it's eyes as it stumbles towards you, tripping over it's own feet.

☁ It makes you stumble back as well, hands outreached as if that will stop it from descending upon you. It doesn't. It's arms, wrapped in pink ribbon, strain against the fabric as the ichor holding it's middle together bubbles.

☁ It makes you nauseous just looking at it.

☁ On the opposite end, the Twisted had never been so happy. You were here! You! Glorious, effervescent you. Oh what a glorious day! Just knowing you were nearby makes whatever organs he has pulsate happily, as if he could get butterflies in his stomach these days.

☁ He just wants to embrace you once more. Feel your warmth against him as he never lets you leave. No, he wouldn't allow it. He knows how happy you make his counterpart, he just knows you could make him the same. He just wants to feel again and he knows you're the source of it.

☁ But you look so, so scared of him. He understands the new form can be scary, his jewel, but he assures you you'll used to it. Or he tries too, but it comes out in a garbled mess as the first ichor tear drips down.

☁ There's a ding of a machine, followed by another and the noise makes his patience slice itself in half as he turns to glare at the direction the sound came from. Who were they to try and take you away? No one. They were nobody. There's a third ding which he snarls at before turning back. But you're nowhere to be found.

☁ He garbles some form of your name, whipping around again as he urges himself to move faster, looking for you. He won't lose you, he won't. The other version of him doesn't deserve you. Can't you see that?!i

☁ The forth ding rings and finally his patience snaps. He takes off, darting from room to room looking for you. There's a sound of a capsule skidding across the floor, as if someone stepped on it that makes him whip his head around.

☁ As if the ichor answered his prayers, you're struggling to stand, wincing as you limp in the direction you were originally headed. He immediately takes off towards you, even if you screech at the sight.

☁ It wasn't you're finest moment when your foot caught the capsule, sending you to the ground, but it's even worse when you realize it has seen you and is coming right at you.

☁ You scream before you can even stop it, quickly getting to your feet as you take off towards the elevator. It's much faster than you though, and catches up in no time at all. You're pretty sure it's fingers brush against your back when you hear Goob's own ability engage, his colorful fingers wrapped around your waist as you're yanked the rest of the way into the elevator.

☁ You collapse into the fluffy craft in relief at the save, even as the elevator slams and it's haunting screech rings in your ears.

☁ It's scary seeing the thing upclose, moreso when it chooses you to lock on, but with Glisten there, it seemed less so.

☁ You silently vow to never go on another run without him again.