#fidgets dismay

[fidgets-dismay]

Oh he’s ADORABLE, oh he's traumatized

Wooooo! First post!

I love perrito so much, and the movie, ai love all of it. Especially how it shows that trauma does not equal personality. Perrito has met some really bad people but hes still so sweet and it warms my HEART.

I love to headcannon that he might have abandonment issues, for example, Kitty and Puss go on a walk while Perrito sleeps. They come back to him in shambles :(

He cries sometimes, its okay.

But! He did pass his therapy dog classes and has officially became Puss’s therapy dog!!!! Im so proud of him!!!!!

-fidget

[gotmyass2marz]

@fidgets-dismay

GUESS WHO DREW GEORGE

[lowkeyren]

TWO CAN PLAY THAT GAME!

in which — sunday, realizing he fell head over heels for you, tries to push you away, only to have his efforts backfire, which leads to a heated confession.

pairing — sunday x gn!reader

wc: 2.3k, arranged marriage, hurt/comfort, woooo tension!!!, takes place before penacony quests, sunday fumbles everyone cook him rn, apology scene ib maxton hall, reblogs r much appreciated! from event req: here + art by @/hanahanayart on x

the first thing sunday noticed about you was how you consistently avoided meeting his gaze, how your eyes seemed to wander, frequently darting to the ground. 

even now, as you’re sitting across the table from him, you’re fidgeting with your hands, fingers nervously twisting the small charm on your bracelet. your eyes flit from the patterned tablecloth to the rim of your teacup, never settling on him for more than a moment. 

you’re tense, he notes.

as you both go through the marriage contract, he finds himself distracted by the way your eyebrows furrow in concentration, and how your fingers fidget with the edges of the document; a soft smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he observes your gestures. 

the moment you notice him staring however, you stiffen and abruptly shift in your seat. he watches as the flush on your cheeks grows more pronounced, and your words come out in awkward stammers as you try to continue the subject.

though he catches on, quickly averting his gaze to spare you any further embarrassment. the corner of his mouth twitches as he shakes his head slightly. 

right, you must be the type to be easily swayed by looks and status. 

of course he’s aware of his own charm, and even more so, the effect he has on others —evident by the multitude of pursuers vying for his hand in marriage. 

but something is different about you, different enough to intrigue him, different enough to distinguish you from the rest of the crowd, different and compelling enough for him to entertain the idea of marrying you.

sunday is a busy man. 

his schedule is packed with a myriad of tasks ranging from managing various negotiations to organizing the upcoming charmony festival. his desk is cluttered with intricate sketches of the festival’s layouts, post-it notes with scribbled annotations, stacks of detailed itineraries, and reminders of… you.

you have a knack for surprising sunday with unique gifts that inevitably end up on his desk. 

for instance, the delicate keychain that’s shaped like a tiny halo dangling just of reach, or the hand-knitted coaster he sets his mug on, or a handwritten note reminding him to take a break with a small doodle of him in the corner, or the sleek pen he’s using right now, personalised just for him (he complained about pens having grips that were too slippery or uncomfortable once.)

somehow, you never fail to invade his thoughts at every given chance. the worst part? he actually started looking forward to your presence —much to his dismay.

he doesn't know when exactly it started, but he’s certain “it’s all your fault” because he finds himself checking his phone much more frequently, eagerly awaiting your messages. he’s also become attuned to your daily visits, recognizing the distinct sound of your footsteps as they approach his office. heck he even finds himself rearranging his schedule to make sure he’s free during your usual visit time.

you plague his mind to the extent that it distracts him, where he finds himself unable to focus on his work without your voice suddenly echoing in his thoughts; the sound of your infectious laughter, the warmth of your smile like a siren’s call, and the endearing stutter in your words when you say his name —which all seems to linger and sway with every thought. 

sunday fears that he may have loved you more than he will ever allow himself to.

sunday gazes at his reflection in the mirror, running a hand through his hair. his brows are furrowed, and a deep sigh escapes him as he tries to calm his turbulent thoughts, gripping the edge of the sink for support.

his current dishevelled appearance bears a striking resemblance to that of a fallen angel; stunningly attractive, yet marred by a decadent edge that whispers of turpitude.

as the head of the oak family, he shoulders countless responsibilities and maintains a careful distance from those around him. so is it wrong when he feels a twinge of insult, almost as if it's shameful to be powerless to resist you, when you entered his life with a mere marriage contract but seamlessly wove yourself into the deepest, darkest corners of his heart?

“sunday, are you okay? you’ve been in there for a while!” your voice echoes from the other side of the door, tinged with worry and care.

he’s confounded by your unwavering concern, unable to fathom as to why you continue to pour your heart into him, even as he remains cold and indifferent. he appears detached to you, often aloof and devoid of any intimacy —yet you never seem to mind. 

you make him want to tear down the carefully constructed barriers he’s built around his heart and hold you close. even now as you soothe his back and gently preen his wings, he finds himself lost in thought, contemplating the possibility of abandoning his old ways and allowing himself to be vulnerable with you.

but he thinks you don't have to be so insistent on winning him over, really. because he has already belonged to you in a way that’s intrinsic, a devotion deadlier than hell. 

perhaps he just hasn't come to accept it yet.

walking along the streets of golden hour, sunday is painfully aware of the stare you fixate on his figure, even though you try to be discreet about it. when his hand lightly grazes against yours, you freeze momentarily, your body tensing before you quickly adjust your pace to match his long strides, positioning yourself at his side.

you notice that his face is etched with a grim expression, lips drawn tight; he appears visibly stressed, a noticeable contrast to his usual calm demeanor. 

“ahem…” you clear your throat, “y’know,” you begin, your voice soft with an attempt at comfort, “whenever i feel upset, i've found that treating myself to something nice to eat always helps lift my spirits.”

your words hang in the air as he remains silent, his gaze fixed ahead; undeterred, you continue speaking.

“there’s a new restaurant robin told me about yesterday, would you—”

“—stop talking.”

his words seem to have escaped louder than intended, drawing the attention of bystanders who now stop to observe the scene. murmurs ripple through the crowd as they exchange curious glances. 

“oh… well i just wanted t—”

“just, leave me alone for once,” he interrupts sharply, each syllable from his lips like a drop of acid, eroding the walls of your heart until nothing is left but a hollow ache.

a flash of regret crosses his face the moment he sees your face drop. he watches in silence as you nod curtly before pushing your way through the gathering crowd, the haunting image of your hurt expression only further exacerbates the stress he’s already grappling with. 

you gaze at the chat screen with sunday’s name, your fingers hesitantly hovering over the send button; his words from a few days ago echo relentlessly in your head, replaying over and over again.

you sigh before putting your phone down. he probably doesn’t want you bothering him, right?

in that case, even if he was 'annoyed' by you, why did he have to say it in front of everyone? sure he was cold to you at times, but you thought he cared for you at least a little. and if he intended to push you away, why accept your gifts in the first place? 

regardless, you’re not about to forgive him so easily. your dignity demands that you maintain your distance for now, not merely out of pride but also to give him a taste of his own medicine. 

sunday hasn’t received your usual “good morning” text today… the day before, and the week before. actually, he hasn’t seen you at all either. (but robin has, she mentioned that she noticed you seemed a bit down. when she asked about it, though, you didn’t give her a clear answer.)

his office feels eerily quiet without your timely “interruptions”; his desk, once cluttered with your little gifts and notes, now sits noticeably emptier. most importantly, your absence only serves to distract him more than your presence ever did.

he has lost count of the times he’s run his hand through his hair, a familiar gesture of frustration that has become all too common lately. what he said that day, was purely “in the heat of the moment”, a lapse into uncharacteristic harshness he now deeply regrets. 

he envisions the hurt in your eyes, the way your expression crumpled as his words pierced the air, the weight of his own words gnaws at him, and he feels a pang of guilt so sharp it almost physically hurts.

he may have been reserved with his affection, but he never intended for his words to wound you so deeply. ultimately, he was only trying to guard the vulnerability he rarely reveals; but now, his facade has crumbled. and even he can no longer convince himself of the cold indifference he once tried to project.

it’s a bitter irony that he thinks you shouldn’t try so hard to win him over, when he tries just as hard to resist you. 

his efforts would have paid off,

—if only his heart is as cold as he pretends it is. 

he hears your footsteps for the first time in two weeks.

as you enter, he tries to mask the relief on his face, but his eyes betray him, softening as they lock onto you; his pulse quickens, and he rises from his desk almost instinctively. as usual, you keep your eyes averted, but today, the familiar shyness has been replaced by a palpable tension that he can’t ignore.

you set the stack of documents on his desk before turning to leave in silence, but his hand reaches out and gently grasps your wrist, halting you in your tracks. 

“—wait, please,” his voice trembles.

you turn around, finally meeting his gaze. the steady rhythm of his heart quickens into an erratic flutter, almost like a caged dove desperate to escape.

“i apologise… for what happened that day.” 

“a simple ‘sorry’ would suffice for the embarrassment you put me through, but it doesn’t erase the sting of your words or the way you belittle my feelings,” your voice quivers slightly.

you shake your head and let out a frustrated sigh. “listen, i’m not a pawn for you to play with. just tell me how you really feel, not what you think i want to hear.”

you pause, searching his face for any sign of genuine emotion, but all you find is the same frustrating distance. “i mean it, i’m truly sorry, please let m—”

“you can’t just say you're sorry and expect everything to be fine." you scoff and wrench your hand away from his grasp with a sharp jerk, “cut the crap, you’re seriously driving me insane!”

there's a pause before he responds. “im driving you insane?” his eyes narrow, his expression growing intense as he steps closer. with each step he takes towards you, you retreat until your back hits the edge of a bookshelf, the cool wood pressing against you. 

“but do you know what you do to me?” his hair tumbles messily and hangs over his forehead. “do you think it’s easy for me to keep my composure when everything you do makes it harder for me to hold it together?” 

his hands, which were previously clenched at his sides, now grip the edges of the bookshelf on either side of you, closing the space between you even further. 

“maybe i’ve been distant,” his voice, though strained, holds a desperate edge. “but it’s not because i don’t care, it’s because i'm terrified of what i might feel if i let myself get too close.”

“it’s because you drive me insane —and i can’t get enough of it.” 

you pause, taking in his raw confession before burying your face into his shoulder; a damp patch forming on his clothes. “but it’s not fair, sunday.” your fingers dig into his shoulder, but he couldn’t care less.

“you can’t push me away and then pull me back in with your words.” your words are muffled; he tenderly runs his hand along your back, his soothing touch calming you down.

he sighs before saying, “i know i’m sorry, please give me some time, i’ll make things right.”

“promise?” you ask, lifting your gaze to meet his. he gently cups your cheek with his hand, his thumb softly caressing your skin.

he presses a kiss to the crown of your head, “i promise.” 

and this time, he lets himself sink in your embrace, holding you tighter than before. it’s then he realises just how much he had missed out on. 

extra:

“darling...” 

“hm?” you gently stroke his wings, smoothing out the feathers with delicate care. 

his wings flutter slightly under your gentle hands, softly rustling as you brush through the layers of plumage.

“why were you delivering documents to me that day?” he asks, voice laden with curiosity.

you let out a soft chuckle as you recall the nervous expressions of the staff on that day when sunday walked into his office. his wings had fluttered with every tentative step someone took toward him, a clear sign of his agitation. 

“i don’t know,” you reply with a hint of amusement. “maybe none of your staff dared to come near you, so they asked for my help.”

he subconsciously leans into your touch, a soft smile playing on his lips. “well i’m grateful you came by,” he murmurs, though he can’t quite hide the way his wings quiver in response to your tender caresses.

“it turns out, i got more than just a set of documents that day."

you raise an eyebrow playfully. "oh? and what might that be?"

he leans in closer, his forehead gently touching yours, “a reminder of how much i need you."

MASTERLIST ; EVENT M.LIST

[fortunxa]

Physical affection with Jinx

H E A D C A N O N S

╰┈➤ requested

Jinx x fem!reader

cw: mentions of nsfw, hallucinations

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

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Jinx is such a touch-starved girl.

She doesn’t shy away from physical contact, but paradoxically, it can catch her off-guard if she’s not the one initiating it—blame it on her childhood.

As you get to know her, start off gently with some light taps that get her attention.

She’ll often nudge your shoulder, drag her nails across your arm or leg as you’re talking, doodle on your skin, or simply grab your hand as she’s excitedly leading you somewhere.

Jinx is just so curious as to how you’d react, testing the waters.

But once you gain her trust, her innocent touches turn into proper hugs. And I don’t mean duvet-like embraces that let you breathe, but cocoon ones where you can feel every ounce of her as she holds you tightly.

This is the moment you realize she’s now afraid of losing you.

Those hugs come unexpectedly, like a predator pouncing on its prey, and you often stumble from her sheer force.

She’s definitely a waist/torso hugger, and believe it or not, it’s not because of her height but because she genuinely feels safer that way.

Shoulder hugs are traps, so be prepared for a paint bomb to find itself attached to your back.

She will be impressed if you can throw her over your shoulder.

Loves piggyback rides.

Pinky promises. It’s a childish gesture but one that holds enormous significance to her. She would link her finger with yours with those wide, innocent eyes. No take-backs.

– “You know that’s legally binding, right?”

If you’re her first kiss—which, let’s be honest, you probably are—her Jinx persona is nowhere to be found. It’s Powder now, and she’s so cautious as she closes the distance.

Her lips ghost over yours so lightly it almost tickles, but you let her take her time as she grapples with the newfound closeness. You don’t rush her, and when she finally kisses you, it’s slow and tentative. She wants to feel and analyze everything.

– “Was that good?”

As she gains confidence, she starts experimenting with the mix of sensations.

She’s attentive to your reactions, and she soon finds all of your sweet spots.

Will randomly kiss you, and it doesn’t matter where or when.

Forehead kisses, kisses on your neck, earlobes, stomach, hips, thighs… You name it. She adores every single one of them.

She’s the type to swap a piece of candy or gum through a kiss.

Jinx is all about PDA. She wants everyone to know you’re hers.

Hickeys, hickeys, and more hickeys.

Unfortunately, when the wrong people figured out that you’re her partner, it did get you kidnapped once as a way to undermine Silco. Take Jinx’s favorite person away, and she becomes erratic, unfit to carry out his plans.

Heavy on ‘once’ because the hell she brought them was enough to terrify anyone else with the same strategy.

The number of explosions that day alerted Piltover itself.

Talking to Silco and/or Sevika? She’s holding your hand, slightly pushing you behind her in a protective manner. Neither of them approves of your relationship, they deem it a distraction.

Much to Silco’s dismay, she will drag you into most of their private meetings and fidgets with your fingers if she gets bored.

You’re ordering at the bar? She’s either behind you with her arms around your waist or next to you with her hand on your hip as she’s pulling you closer.

You’re on a mission together? There she is, fighting back-to-back with you so she knows you’re there, unharmed. If you’re separated, she can’t concentrate properly anymore, and she keeps seeking you out in between firing her gun. She’s prioritizing your safety over anything else, which has gotten her injured quite a few times.

She insists that she can patch up her wounds herself, but once you see that goddamn stapler approaching a gash, you’re frantically snatching it away from her hands.

You tend to her injuries in such a caring and gentle way that it brings tears to her eyes.

At first, you’re worried you went too deep with the needle as you were stitching her cuts.

– “What’s wrong? Did that hurt? I’m so sorry–”

– “No one has ever done that for me before.”

Whenever the roles are reversed, and you’re the injured one, she’s in a frenzy. She’s muttering to herself as she grabs the first aid kit.

Stern face and furrowed brows, but despite it all, she tries to be delicate—‘tries’ because the voices are making her movements jerky.

– “Are you crazy?! What were you thinking? No, no, she wasn’t thinking at all…”

She will absolutely kiss your wound better afterward.

Cuddle time on her couch after a long day.

She loves it when you sweep her off her feet and carry her bridal style to lay her down.

She likes to be the little spoon but face toward you because your scent and the sound of your heartbeat calm her down.

Occasionally, she’ll be the big spoon to switch it up and make you feel secure, too.

Your presence helps with her night terrors, and she sleeps more often with you around.

But you always wake up with her hair in your mouth, her elbow on your face, and covers on the ground, and she’s snoring—occasionally drooling—in a starfish position.

– “Where the fuck did your pillow go?”

Morning kisses!!!

Morning sex.

Showering and taking baths together.

Hygiene isn’t a big thing in Zaun (shocker), so when you have time to get clean, you do it together. Washing each other’s hair, trying to get all the grime—and occasionally blood—out.

It’s a tender moment that turns entertaining—or sexual—rather quickly.

You’re washing off, and you turn around to see Jinx with a bubble beard, her face completely stoic. She starts pretending to be a Piltovan man as you’re laughing.

Or she’ll come up behind you and press her soapy body to yours as her fingers dip inside you.

Physical affection while she’s working on a project can go two ways:

When she’s confident in her work: She loves having you close, whether it’s by having you sit on her lap and vice versa or grabbing your hands for an impromptu dance break when she’s feeling her playlist. She’s babbling about her ideas and designs, explaining each step as you play with her braids.

When she’s experimenting: Do not come close or she’ll scream. She’ll be too scared to have you near in case she messes up an equation and causes an explosion. She will actually make you go elsewhere as a precaution. But she’ll be more than happy to show you her progress after!

You love painting each other’s nails, but she often chips hers.

She straddles you as she does your makeup and vice versa.

Will use her own saliva to clean up any messes.

Jinx absolutely adores trying out new looks on you, and she treats you like her human canvas.

Not only with makeup but with markers and paint, too.

She will draw out tattoo ideas and judge each placement.

Speaking of tattoos, you constantly trace hers with a light touch that sends shivers down her spine.

Brushing and playing with each other’s hair. She actually melts in your hands once you take her braids out and start massaging her scalp.

Will bite your arm out of excitement. The urge to chomp is just too great.

You comfort her differently depending on how bad her episode gets:

You either hold her impossibly close, hiding her face in your chest as you stroke her hair and start humming or talking about something she loves to ground her.

If she gets to a point where you can’t even approach without her backing away—or worse, getting violent—you dim every bright light and reduce any other stimuli. You don’t call her by her name—neither Jinx nor Powder—as both can trigger her even more. She will use some of her bombs to try and muffle the voices with the sounds of explosions, but you do hide any other weapons. You don’t talk too much or too loudly to not confuse her even more. Once she’s calm enough, it’s back to scenario number 1.

You’re both crying by the time her episode ends.

– “Please… Tell me you’re real.”

Jinx is so in tune with your emotions, and contrary to popular belief, she’s very empathetic.

She notices any tone or mood changes immediately.

If you’re mad at something or someone, she’ll be mad with you, if not even madder. You have her unconditional support because her trinket can do no wrong. She’s tracing her nails down your back or stroking your thigh as you’re rambling.

– “And then Sevika called me incompetent. Can you fucking believe it? How was I supposed to know that they put the shimmer there?!”

– “Sevika’s a bitch. That barrel was totally in your way.”

If you’re mad at her, she’ll spiral. You want to leave to cool down? Nuh-uh. She’s holding you so tightly, shaking like a leaf, that it makes your anger dissipate.

– “Don’t leave me, toots. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ll be better.”

If you’re sad or crying, she cups your face in her hands and makes you look at her as she praises you. She wipes every tear away. This is also the only other time she will reach for a hug over your shoulders/around your neck—no paint bombs included. She just wants to cradle your head and soothe you.

[11rosebunny]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬 (𝐁𝐎𝐅𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍 + 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐍)

content: f!reader. fluff. togame being an asshole per usual…

word count: 2045

Haruka Sakura

You two were simply at his house for a small hangout, it wasn't anything too special after you both started dating. You've grown accustomed to going over to his apartment and just being in the same room together.

So when you slip on one of his plain white shirts, he knows immediately that it's his because he doesn't own many coloured shirts like you do. He lost his mind.

The sight of you in his floor bed with his shirt.

Right away, he'll question you, "Is that my shirt?" As blush creeps up on his cheeks.

You answer "Yes." Without much thought but in his head, he was going crazy.

He tries to act like it's nothing and brushes it off, but the way his eyes never leave your body and the way he keeps fidgeting with the hem of the shirt you're wearing makes you question what he's doing. He doesn't say anything the whole time which made you curious and knew something was up.

Hajime Umemiya

He has to do a double take on your body when he comes across you wearing something of his own. The first time it happened, you were relaxing on the school roof top with him, seeing that you guys finished gardening fairly quickly, the shirt you were wearing had gotten a little too dirty to your liking, so to fix the solution he looked at you, then his shirt.

"Do you want to borrow mine?"

You eyebrows knitted in confusion as your eyes went wide. You kept protesting and telling him to keep it, besides, what was he going to wear then? He quickly solved the problem by saying if you'd like to borrow his sweater instead. This time, you agreed to those terms.

You quickly changed in the washroom before heading up to the rooftop again. The school was empty and luckily Sugishita had plans that day (which is very rare causing the both of you to question what he was doing today). Upon returning, he was in the hammock he usually takes naps in and was busy on his phone after not being on it for a few hours. Momentarily, you sat in front of him feeling awkward and shifting your chair. He peered up from his phone and looked at you, then smiled.

"Wow that suits you huh?" He placed his phone down on his chest. You jumped at his compliment.

"It's not even mine..."

"Looks better on you though." A cheeky smile was brought to his lips.

You felt the tips of your ears burning as he motioned you to come with him. You were dating by then and yet you still felt awkward whenever you two got a little to intimate. He knew of this thought of yours but he found it cute. So when you stood up and made your way over to him, he quickly grabbed your wrist making you stumble onto his chest as he let out an airy laugh when you yelled in shock.

"You're going to break the hammock you asshole!"

Toma Hiragi

He really hated the way you dressed that day. Normally whenever you two would go out for a date night, it was usually at restaurants or a late night walk for drinks or ice cream, but today was special and you two decided to do something different.

The both of you agreed to visit the bowling arena.

It was open till 12AM and mostly older adults and few rowdy teenagers would roll up around those hours due to the alcoholic beverage that were available to order. Of course, you and him don't drink so your plans was just to bowl.

However when he picks you up from your house and sees your outfit, he could a feel a vigilant sense coming to his nose. The top you wore was a bit too showy and tight for his liking, even so, he refrained from telling you at first.

However, to your dismay, a lot more teenagers that you two expected to be there was out of your assumptions. The groups around your bowling area was rented out by the same rowdy teenagers he feared. The entire time he purely tried to focus on your date and ignore the hormonal boys that kept eyeing up and down. It was driving him crazy to not just drag you out the place and have a date night at home.

After it was your turn, he had enough of the whispers and stares about his girlfriend, so when you walk up to him to indicate it was his turn now, he takes his leather jacket from the couch where both your belongings were placed and in a swift move, he wraps it behind your back.

"Oh, are we going now?" You ask feeling sweat drop from your head.

"...No." He replied as you slipped in your arms through the sleeves. From the corner of his eyes, he could feel the stares of the group of teenagers mumbling under their breaths.

You didn't understand for the first few minutes till you watched him walk up to the stadium and saw him glance at the group of boys if they noticed you were wearing his jacket.

You smiled softly and held the jacket closer to your body.

Taiga Tsugeura

He barely has any interesting shirts, Nirei desperately tried to help him find his style sense, but when the others visited his house and browsed around in his room, Mitsuki looked in his closet to see the same exact shirts in different shades of grey. He took a picture and sent it to the group chat.

The four made that an inside joke.

Even so, you were aware of his limited choices of clothing, when you asked for a shirt at his house, on the outside he seemed normal about it. It took him awhile for it to click in his brain what you asked till he saw you in his shirt asking him if he's ready to go out yet.

The both of you were just going to go on a small walk around town having been bored at his house so the entire time he's outside with you he's extra giddy and smiley thinking about the fact that you are wearing his shirt.

You can tell he's in an extra good mood by the way he seems to blush and smile more while at the same time, taking glances at the shirt you're wearing every now and then.

Mitsuki Kiryu

His clothing of choices are very interesting. Aside from his loud patterned shirts, he still owns a fair amount of cute looking ones.

When you first looked into his closet a tiny part of you was jealous seeing how nice they were, you even told him you were going to steal some because of how good quality it was, and to your surprise he said,

"Go ahead. I don't mind." With a cat-like smile.

In doing so, you ended up putting a fashion show on for him.

He laughed the entire time and rated each outfits you presented to him, having different names for each of the fits making him place down his phone and put all his attention on you.

As much as he enjoyed the little game you made, he loved the way your body fitted some of his clothes, he falls into the shorter category of guys. Standing at a whopping 5'5 ft tall, some of the clothes fit you very well. He finds it amusing the way some of them still look baggy on you, making you look like blob of laundry.

He wouldn't mind if he saw you in public wearing one of his jackets.

Hayato Suo

You really hate his clothes. It's not the fact that it's ugly or weird, Suo tends to go for the Chinese clothing due to the hemp material he likes. Loose pants and kung-fu shoes, they're basically similar material types.

However, when you had to wear one of his jackets due to the weather being colder than usual, you fought with yourself thinking you'd look stupid wearing a Chinese tang-suit in public paired with your [Clothing style] would make you look ridiculous.

But once you refused, the dark-haired boy put on a faux smile and told you to put it on now.

There you were, in his tang-suit jacket.

It wasn't as bad as you thought, eventually you forgot about the jacket when you two continued your date outside. The whole time, he would glance at you whenever you weren't looking and look away with a proud smile.

"Suo is something wrong?" You ask questioning his silent smile.

He looked away and continued walking, "Nothing." He answer before wrapping his fingers with yours.

Jo Togame

Monk working clothes and matching sweatsuits.

He doesn't care much about style if he's being honest. The chore of running errands to spend money on clothing he's going to wear for 2 days and end up throwing them into the washing machine seems like a bother, so he keeps his wardrobe simple.

When he finds you stealing one of his grey sweaters, he notices right away.

"Is that mine?" He asks pointing at you laying in his bed with your phone in your hand.

He already knows the answer when you reply, "Yeah."

He chuckles to himself before walking over to you and placing the towel from his shoulders on his chair. His hair was still wet after having a short bath and threw on grey sweatpants and a random sweatshirt.

When you're just going through your phone and not paying much attention to your surroundings, the 6 foot man launches his body onto yours making you scream in surprise.

Instantly, he wraps his arms around your waist while messing up his wet hair on the sweater you wore. The phone in your hand dropped causing it to fling to the floor and create a crashing sound. The moment he got his hands on you, you tried breaking free.

"Togame stop! Your hair is still wet!" You kicked your legs and began to push yourself away from him but his grip was too strong.

You could feel a smile form on his lips against you as a lazy but purring voice replaced his tone of voice, "But you look so good [Name]."

"Let me GO!"

Tomiyama Choji

His outfits relate to similar clothing of streetwear and he's not even aware of that. He picks his clothing at random and goes for tight-fitted pants with sneakers. He's very short and light so most of his clothes fit you.

When you two are simply going out to eat and you accidentally spill water on your shirt, your mood shifts and becomes sadder.

He wasn't expecting something like this to happen, and thought about any solutions.

"My shirt is all ruined..." You whined across from the chair he stood in. You began to wipe down the liquid that wetted your shirt while he frantically began to clean up the table that had the water spills.

"Hey it's okay, you can always borrow my jacket." He looked up at you with his prominent smile.

You blinked at his offer but was he really going to give you a choice? The answer was no.

You went into the washroom to go change and slip on the the hoodie he wore for your date, and when you walked out he widened his eyes in surprise as a tiny of blush covered his cheeks.

"Sorry, I'll return your sweater back next time okay?" You walked out the restaurant with him with you wet shirt stuffed in your bag.

He shook his head and that's when you realized he seemed a bit more quieter than he usually is. Normally, he was loud and outgoing but in this moment, you senesced something was coming up.

"No it's okay, you can keep it."

"Really?" You smiled back at him as the two of you began walking.

He remained his eyes on you in a daze before the two of you wrapped your hands together, "Yeah. It suits you better."

You blushed at his statement.

[ozzgin]

Hello! I just wanted to say I really like your writing style!!

I was wonder have you done a hybrid yan whose darling has a phobia of the animal they are a hybrid of?

Eg wolf with a darling scared of dogs, Naga with a darling scared of snake, ect.

I can definitely expand a little on that! I'll keep it very generic, so you can go for any kind of hybrid you'd like. :)

Yandere! Hybrid x Phobic! Reader

Featuring a hybrid of your choice and a Reader who's terrified of him, but not for the reasons one might expect.

Content: gender neutral reader, hybrid yandere, stalking, monster romance (mild NSFW)

He's been in love from the moment he saw you. So entranced, in fact, that he didn't even notice he'd stalked you all the way to your home. And much too eager to see you again to not return there the next day, and the day after and so on, until today.

Today, however, was meant to be special. He'd planned to confess his feelings and pray for the best. What's the worst that could happen, he thought. If you were to reject him, he'd just return to his habit of watching from afar.

Though he didn't expect you to scream and run away in a panic. You nearly toppled over the ground in your frantic escape, white as a sheet, mumbling apologies that slowly faded into the distance. He could only stare. He didn't get the chance to introduce himself.

That was...not his best moment. That night he turned and twisted, plagued by a shame he'd never known before. Was he truly so irredeemably monstrous? He'd never interacted much with humans before, so he never quite considered his own appearance. Could he really go back to admiring you secretly? Was there no way to convince you? His heart throbbed melancholically.

In the morning, to his great shock, you were already waiting for him in the same spot, just as pale, knees bent and ready to sprint at any given second. You managed to blurt out your explanation: the phobia. He suddenly remembered one instance where you stumbled upon an animal and had a reaction similar to what he experienced. So, you were indeed afraid of him, but not in the way he initially assumed. His eyes lit up with newfound hope: you were giving him a chance, after all.

The first months were rather clumsy. A lot of fidgeting, a lot of sneaky glances, and to his great dismay, a lot of distance. To think you were finally his, and he couldn't even hold you properly.

One must appreciate the small victories. You were no longer a stranger he'd follow from the shadows. He no longer had to imagine what you'd smell like, or what your laugh sounded like, or how your hands would feel in his. You have to take what's given to you, he'd tell himself once he was alone again, desperately touching himself to those scarce memories.

Despite his almost manic neediness, he always greeted you with a reassuring smile. Always asked before touching you. Always apologized if he got ahead of himself. He'd never allow his love to outweigh your comfort.

You jolt slightly.

"Sorry, was I too rough?" he freezes, observing your small, naked body underneath his.

"No, just muscle memory, sorry."

You purse your lips, embarrassed about your sudden anxious reaction in the middle of an intimate moment. Will you ever get over your fear?

"Hey now, is this the kind of face to have while I'm fucking you?" the hybrid jokes with a grin. "Small steps, remember?"

He'd wait forever if it was for you.

[amorisxx]

Snickerdoodle pt. ii

pairing: Art Donaldson x reader summary: Tashi invites you and your son to lunch with her family. You meet Patrick. And you can't stop sharing your cookies with Art. warnings: smut 18+, cheating, mentions of car sex, oral sex (fem receiving because Art is a munch), adults still acting like horny teenagers, hastily proofread word count: 4.2K prev part | next part

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

Tashi does call you. She invites you to have lunch. On them.

You say no.

There’s no way you can go have lunch with the man you just fucked in a parking lot and his wife. You make up some sort of excuse, continuing to dodge her calls for a week.

Unfortunately, your karma is fast acting because you run into Tashi while picking up Kaleb from school one day. Lily and Kaleb have grown closer this school year. In any other instance, you’d be proud of your little dude for making friends, but you can’t help but side eye him when he asks to have a playdate with Lily right in front of Tashi.

Before you can properly respond, Lily is tugging on her mom’s sleeve saying “please, please, please” and Tashi is giving you an apologetic smile. You relent because to do otherwise would make you a terrible mom. Denying your son time with his friend just because you’re avoiding the consequences of your own actions would be a new low. So, you agree to bring Kaleb over that weekend. Much to your dismay, Tashi takes the opportunity to sneak in the offer of lunch again.

ᯓ

On Saturday, you find yourself on the Donaldson’s patio while Kaleb and Lily play in their picturesque backyard. Sunlight pours over the yard, engulfing everything in a warm, soft glow. Lush greenery billows out from the ground creating pillowy grass for the kids to run around through barefoot. A steady trickle of water flows over rocks into a large pond nearby. There’s a light breeze in the air, just enough to feel refreshing.

Tashi is sure to order lunch for everyone. And despite your reluctance to show, you still bring a shiny, red tin of snickerdoodle cookies for dessert. Art took to reminding the kids to finish their food before playing and to be careful near the pond. When they insist on feeding their leftover bread to the fish, he’s quick to make sure they don’t go too far. The afternoon sun settles over him as he kneels between the two, carefully pinching off pieces of breadcrumbs to gently toss into the shimmering water. You just barely hold back a small smile at the seraphic appearance of him, and when you glance back around, Tashi’s eyes meet yours with a slight smile of her own.

Despite the serene atmosphere of their home, you can’t fully relax into your chair as you nibble on your lunch. Art peeks at the way you keep fidgeting with your dress and adjusting your watch on your wrist. He subtly tries to tap you to grab your attention, but you pretend to be reaching for another mimosa to avoid the contact. You find yourself glad to have another drink, actually, because you’re feeling more nervous by the second. You sip from your glass and graciously fall into a conversation with Tashi about your baking in an effort to ignore Art. You think that maybe you’ll feel less guilty about your attraction to her husband if you appear unaffected by him.

Halfway through lunch, you meet Patrick, a tall man with dark curls and glimmering eyes. He’d sauntered over to the table with an impish grin, taking the seat across from you. They introduce him as the player Tashi is coaching and Art’s best friend. You learn that Patrick lives in their guest house. But the way he moves about the space suggests that he’s quite familiar with their home.

Patrick talks to you about his career. Says you might’ve seen him play. You give a tight smile, tell him maybe you had.

In truth, you have no idea who Patrick is.

He openly flirts with you. Says he’s single. You don’t miss the glare Tashi shoots him. Art, however, is laser focused on your reaction to Patrick, searching your face each time he makes a suggestive comment.

You’re shaking your head in restrained amusement at Patrick when Kaleb runs to the table for a sip of lemonade. He spills it in his haste to get back to Lily, and you use a napkin to dab his chin before he pushes your hand away, grumbling mom under his breath. When he’s out of earshot, Patrick casually tells you that you look too good to have a kid Kaleb’s age.

You’re too stunned to speak. Art reaches across the table and slaps the cookie that he’s stolen out of Patrick’s hand, which makes him glare at Art, while Tashi groans in annoyance.

She massages her right temple and sighs, “I apologize for Patrick. He lacks basic home training.” He only grins at her comment.

When he pours himself a glass of sparkling champagne, she snatches it from him, muttering about not fucking up his meal plan. Patrick licks the droplets of champagne that landed on his fingers. She looks at him with disgust and continues, “He wasn’t even supposed to be here. But you know what they say. Never feed a stray cat.”

After you’ve made your way through two mimosas, you turn to Tashi to ask for the bathroom. You expect her to take you. Or simply give instructions and send you on your way, but Art stands up and says, “Come on, I’ll show you.”

You want to decline, but your bladder is screaming, so you follow him through the large French doors leading into their kitchen. You reluctantly watch the way his muscles move in tandem with his lazy stride. His gait is noticeably less stiff as he makes his way through his home. Here, he doesn’t have to be Art Donaldson ™, just Art. He doesn’t turn around until he stops at a door situated in the hallway you passed when you entered their house. He could’ve just told you that the bathroom was on that hall.

“Here it is.”

“Thanks,” you whisper and reach for the knob. Before he can say anything else, you shut the door behind you and lock it. When you think you can hear footsteps departing, you release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

You quickly pee and wash your hands, lingering to stare at the water rinsing over your fingers. It’s not until the stream is hot enough to sting that you retract your hands, grab the hand towel and turn off the faucet.

It would be nice to just stay locked in here until Kaleb is tired out and ready to go home. But you know that would be weird at best and suspicious at worst.

“You can do this,” you whisper to yourself in the mirror. “It’s just one lunch. After this, you never have to talk to these people again.”

With a mindful inhale, you move to open the door and pray Kaleb can make some new friends.

You’re thinking about how bad of a mom you are when you almost bump into Art.

“Shit! You scared me!”

He frowns at you. “What? You surprised there was someone else in the house?” He says, voice laced with amusement.

You roll your eyes. “No, I just didn’t expect you to pop up. I thought you’d gone back outside.”

“I was waiting for you.”

“Oh…you didn’t have to do that. I could’ve found my way back.”

“Never said you couldn’t.” You think he’s standing closer to you now. “I just uh, I wanted to talk to you. You’ve been…” he moves his head from side to side, “a little tense.”

You let out an exaggerated gasp. “Really? You don’t say?”

He frowns. Like a kid who doesn’t understand why you’re taking away his cookies.

“Art, how did you think I was gonna act? After what…” you lower your voice, “after what we did,” you hiss.

His hand grasps your shoulder. “Hey.” He squeezes it. “I told you it was fine.”

You scoff. “So we just pretend it didn’t happen?”

“I didn’t say that. I told you, I wanted you.”

“And that makes it okay?” You crane your head back to stare at him.

He turns his head in the direction of the kitchen before letting out a sigh and bringing his eyes back to bore into yours. “Yeah. For me, it does.” You don’t think you’ve ever seen the intensity settled in his gaze the way it is now.

You look at him with disbelief. “Art. You’re married.”

He blinks at you.

“Your wife is literally sitting outside watching our children play.” You try to get him to see how wrong this is. “Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” You didn’t think Art could be so cold about this.

“It didn’t mean anything when she cheated on me.” His voice is steady, but there’s something undeniably hidden behind his hardened expression. You can’t place it, but whatever it is, it makes your brows soften.

“What?” You say lamely.

“You heard me.”

Your mouth opens. Then closes. That time when he’d told you he understood, he actually had. And you hadn’t believed him.

You want to inquire more, but he interrupts you. “Listen, I’m not really up to rehashing the fails of my marriage right now,” he says, reaching to grab your hand. You let him. “Just know that you don’t need to feel guilty. About anything.”

His fingers gently tilt your chin to look him in the eyes. “And know that everything we did that night was something I’ve wanted for awhile. Something I still want.”

Your eyes impulsively dart to his lips.

“Please tell me I can touch you,” he all but whimpers.

And at that moment, you know you really aren’t a good person. Because it only takes a matter of seconds for you to lean forward and catch Art’s lips as his head moves towards you. You bring your hands around the back of his neck as his arms snake around your waist. His warm hand presses against your hip before traveling up until he reaches your ribcage. You sigh into his mouth and thread your fingers through his hair. It didn’t take long for you to get lost in him, abandoning any form of restraint.

Despite the tenderness seeping through your fingertips, the kiss is rushed. It’s filled with lust and the desperation of two people, frantically trying to get as much as they can from the other. You whimper when you feel Art’s teeth dig into your bottom lip. One hand drags up to cup your breast, and the other moves to grip your ass, squeezing it. With an arch of your back, you let your head loll backwards a bit as Art’s pink tongue swirls around yours. He grunts out a small fuck when his thumb brushes over your clothed nipple and you moan. The action brings up flashes of him pressing his mouth to your breasts that night in the parking lot. You recall the way he sucked on them and played with your clit through your damp panties. The memory goes straight to your core.

Suddenly, Art pauses to glance towards the kitchen, as if weighing his options. You can feel him pressed up against you hard. And a part of you clenches when he turns back to you, grins, and whispers “fuck it” before attacking your mouth again. You let out a sound of surprise when you feel him ushering you back to the bathroom.

The lock clicks behind you as he presses you up against the door. His hands are everywhere and his tongue is following in quick succession. You’re so overwhelmed by it all that you can barely figure out where to place your hands. You settle for his shoulders as he falls to his knees in front of you.

Art spreads your legs, pressing his face into the side of your inner thigh. His nose and parted mouth travel up your thigh, bunching up the fabric of your knitted dress the higher he gets. Your stomach clenches when his hands come to caress the back of your thighs and make their way over your behind. In one swift motion, Art shoves his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugs them harshly down your thighs.

His name tumbles out of your mouth in a gasp. He lightly hums to himself as he rids you of the extra material, and you don’t notice him place them into his pocket because your eyes are shut tight at the feeling of his wet mouth trailing up your thigh again.

When you feel a puff of warm air hit your lips, your eyes fly open, and you instinctively grip your dress to get a better look. Art’s eyes are closed as he unabashedly inhales your scent. After a particularly deep breath, his tongue comes out to lick against your folds. He releases a shaky exhale that tickles your clit. His blue eyes open up to peer at you, silently pleading for permission. You could almost laugh at the ridiculousness of him needing your permission when he’s already fucked you once and just forced himself between your legs, literally yanking your underwear down.

Still, he waits with his mouth mere centimeters from your heat, glassy eyes wide, looking to you to grant him this.

It’s possibly the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. You place your fingers in his hair firmly and lower yourself onto his waiting mouth. The groan Art releases into your pussy resonates through your entire core. Your head falls back against the door as he begins to eat your cunt like he’s been starving for it.

He hungrily laps at your soaking entrance, dragging his tongue up to your clit and back again. He’s a messy eater. Letting your juices coat his chin without a care in the world. Shoving his tongue so deep into you that his nose is flush with you. It makes your stomach flutter. The intensity and risk of being caught transports you to a time when you might’ve hid in a closet with your high school crush. Except the head was never this good.

You’re grinding your swollen clit into his nose as his tongue fucks into your hole when he grabs your thigh, placing it over his shoulder. The position lets him shove his face deeper into the apex of your thighs, moaning against you. At this rate, you’re not sure who’s enjoying this more. You start to feel dizzy, your senses overwhelmed with the feel of Art’s tongue and the sound of his groaning mixed with filthy slurping noises. It’s obscene the way he’s switching between licking into your hole and sucking at your clit.

“Ah-Art I’m gonna—,”

“Mmhm,” he nods into your cunt. He’s lost in it. He’s gripping your ass, kneading the flesh, when his tongue dips downward. He spreads your cheeks. You jolt when you feel something hot and wet swirl around your tight muscle. You’re surprised at how good it feels, your ex would never have done that to you.

Your mouth falls open. “Oh godddd,” you’re tugging his hair, pulling his ears, anything your hands can find purchase on.

Your thighs tremble as Art mercilessly sucks on your clit. The orgasm that washes over you has you lifting your back off the wooden door, vision gone black.

Art doesn’t let up. You have to push his head away from you to get him to release your overstimulated clit. He stumbles back on his heels, thighs spread, with a giant grin on his face. His chin is glistening and his lips are swollen and red. As you work to catch your breath, you notice that the front of his pants are soaked.

ᯓ

Art sends you out first. He has to change his jeans after he basically came from merely eating you out. The thought makes you giggle.

When you get to the table, only Patrick is there. You sit down, but you must look confused because he tells you Tashi had to take a call.

You nod.

“She left pretty soon after you went inside.” He takes a puff from his cigarette.

“Okay,” you say and smooth out your dress.

He blows out a cloud of smoke and tilts his head. He smiles at you like he knows exactly what you’ve been up to.

It makes you gulp.

“Where’s Art?” He asks, eyes twinkling.

“I uh…I don’t know,” you lie. “He disappeared after he showed me to the bathroom.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Oh.”

You can’t take the scrutiny. To keep from fidgeting with your hands, you reach for your neglected mimosa and take a sip.

Patrick puts out his cigarette. He looks over to the kids who are now taking turns throwing pebbles across the pond. It looks like Lily is beating Kaleb, but he’s determined to throw his further.

Patrick’s voice cuts through the air. “Hey.” He leans forward on his elbows and smirks, “was he good?”

You cough. “What?”

He laughs at your sputtering. “Oh my god. You let him fuck you, didn’t you??”

“Excuse me!” You look at him aghast.

“Oh come on,” he slightly sobers up. “I can keep a secret.” He mimics a zipper on his lips.

Thankfully, Art decides to finally rejoin you, saving you from having to respond to Patrick’s interrogation.

He sits down in the seat beside you, placing his hand on your thigh under the table. “He’s not bothering you, is he?” But he looks at Patrick as he asks the question.

Patrick scoffs. “No, we were just talking.”

Art looks at you as if to ask you to confirm. So, you nod. “Mmhm, everything’s fine.”

He looks you over then leans back in his seat, relenting. “So, where’s Tashi?”

As if on cue, you hear the door on the opposite side of the patio open as Tashi lets out a sigh. She plops down in her seat across from Art.

“I swear if I want shit done right I have to do it myself.”

She goes on to complain about how her team had fucked up Patrick’s upcoming campaign. If you’re being honest, the conversation is the last thing on your mind right now. Their voices fade out as you get stuck in your head.

You wonder just how much Patrick knew about you and Art. Had Art told him? Had he bragged about how easy you were to his best friend? Is that why Patrick’s been hitting on you all day?

It dawns on you that Art and Patrick might think you’re just a slut. The thought makes your stomach twist in humiliation. But some part of you feels excited by the idea. The thought that you could exist as a free sexual being. God is this what happens when you’re divorced and sexually dissatisfied for years?

The sound of someone clearing their throat steals you from your thoughts. You look up to see all three of them staring at you expectantly.

“I’m sorry?”

Art chuckles at your blatant inattention. It reminds him of the way you’d zone out when the PTA meetings ran over and Nancy couldn’t stop yapping.

“I promise, we do talk about more than just tennis.”

“Oh it’s fine,” you shrug.

Patrick laughs. “He’s lying. Neither of them can hold a conversation without bringing up tennis.”

Tashi rolls her eyes in his direction. “Patrick, you shouldn’t even be here right now. Shut up.”

You try to stifle your giggle at her dismissal of Patrick. Though her words drip with disdain, they lack any real malice. And if anything, Patrick’s smile grows wider the deeper she furrows her brows. You figure their bickering must also be characteristic of their tennis relationship.

“Also, I just know he was probably annoying the hell out of you while I was gone.” She tips her glass in Art’s direction. “Art here can barely keep him in check.”

“Okay, that’s not—“

Before Art can defend himself, Patrick cuts in. “Actually, I was just asking her out on a date,” he smirks at you. “Isn’t that right?”

His smile is daring you to disagree, and you realize he’s challenging you.

You clear your throat. “Yeah he did,” you say, peeking at Art. He looks like a disapproving father. Arms folded and mouth set in a hard line. “And I told him no,” you continue. “Because right now, I’m not interested in dating. I’d rather focus on me and my kid.”

Tashi smirks. “Yeah Patrick, no one needs your parasitic ass preying on them once they’ve already ditched deadweight.” She must realize her bluntness as her eyes lift to yours. “Sorry, I’m just saying.”

“It’s alright,” you laugh. Your ex was deadweight. You find yourself staring at your clasped hands. Your amusement at her comment had been genuine, but that’s the problem. For someone that just fucked this woman’s husband, you’re a little too comfortable in Tashi’s presence. Your lack of all encompassing guilt is concerning. Maybe it’s because you’ve had three mimosas.

Yeah. It’s definitely the mimosas.

You suppose that once reality sets in, it may all come crashing down on you. So, you enjoy the feeling for now. Besides, after lunch today, you intend to never sleep with Art Donaldson again.

ᯓ

Following that Saturday lunch, you proceed to fuck Art Donaldson after almost every PTA meeting. You two find yourselves in the back of your car screwing like rabbits with your clothes halfway on or in the front seat of his, you riding him while he tries not to slam you into the dashboard.

The night you have to throw Kaleb’s booster seat into the front as Art works to pull down your pants from behind is the night you decide this can no longer go on. Or more specifically, that fucking in a car is impractical.

Art convinces you to meet him at a hotel instead. You two get the same room each time, and even though you promise that you’re going to stop, you find yourself checking into that hotel room every weekend. If not there, Art comes to your place. It becomes your regular form of self care after a long week of work.

Kaleb has to start spending time with his father anyway, so you let him have Saturdays and Sundays. If nothing makes you feel better about your son hanging out with your ex and his new fiancée, it’s being able to forget it all with Art.

Unfortunately, the guilt begins to build a home for itself in your gut. Any time you aren’t being fucked by Art, you’re beating yourself up about it, swearing that you’ll never let it happen again. Never in your life have you experienced this much anguish over something. Yet, it’s a fascinating cycle of faux repression. The way you deny yourself out of some self-righteous need to be perceived as a good person, only to eventually give into your true desires when being a good person makes you feel utterly miserable.

It’s almost the same every time. Art will reach out to you. You tell him never to dial your number again. You feel bad, so you go to apologize. Then, you inevitably fuck him. But you hate yourself for fucking him, but you do it again because his cock is the only thing that makes you feel better.

It’s utterly ridiculous.

It’s also ridiculous that you can’t set firm boundaries with him. After the first hotel meeting, you nearly cried when you woke up cocooned within his arms. It was wrong. You’d already slept with him, cuddling was too far. It was too domestic.

You told yourself you wouldn’t let that happen anymore.

Yet, here you are again, trapped beneath his muscled arm. Except this time, he’s in your bed. And his face is buried in the crook of your neck, his mouth slightly parted for his warm breath to kiss your skin. The rise and fall of his chest against your back threatens to lull you back to sleep. You fight your heavy eyelids and shuffle to raise Art’s arm enough to slip out of.

You prop yourself against the headboard and stare out of the window. The leaves are starting to lose their green hue, and some have already fallen to the ground. Fall has always been your favorite time of year. Though the change in season isn’t as dramatic as the melting of icicles going into spring, the transition from summer heat to autumn has a way of slipping up on you.

One day, it’s unbearably hot, and you’re dreaming of when the air might catch a cool breeze, and the next, you’re reaching for a jacket because, though the days are still warm, the nights are getting cooler. And then one day, you’re peering out of your window to see that the leaves have changed color, and they’ve all fallen.

When you look back at Art, his blue eyes are already staring back at you. You wonder when he woke up. He has that small sleepy smile on his face, and his eyes are slightly swollen, and he’s reaching to wrap his arms around your waist and nuzzle his head into your lap. And you glance at the leaves from the trees and realize they aren’t the only ones that have fallen.

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

a/n: let me know what you guys think of this part! I think I have about two more parts for pta!Art and reader because a bit of drama is about to unfold. *rubs hands together like an insect*

Part iii

[scoobysnakz]

loser miguel who starts to normalize his perverse thoughts because, if he’s thinking nice sweet things, surely they balance out?

he can imagine your plump ass bouncing on his cock as much as he wants, as long as he pictures himself cooking you a romantic meal right after, it’s fine.

loser miguel who can finally start accepting your hugs again. and thank god for that, he thought he was going to combust without your warm embrace. he had gotten so used to not getting them again, that his cock immediately stiffened the first time around, leaving him a blushing mess when you made another joke about his keys.

loser miguel who starts outwardly asking for any form of physical affection. he’s gone so long without any touch that living without your hugs leaves a burning deep inside him.

he shamelessly stands there after saying goodbye, arms outstretched, waiting for you to run over to him and press your smaller frame against him as you bury your head against his chest, forcing you to get dizzy from his cologne.

loser miguel who puts on a show of being embarrassed whenever someone says your his work wife, or simply more than the best friends everyone at the workplace has come to know you as.

they all know you’re a very touchy feely person, but you’re extra clingy with miguel, and he doesn’t mind a bit.

loser miguel who is over the moon when you want to repay him for walking you to your train the other night.

he has a few ideas in mind, you sprawled out on the sofa with his thick fingers burried in your leaky cunt while stares up at your perfect face with those soft, brown eyes of his. his cock sliding against your slick folds as you beg and whine for more doesn’t sound too bad either, if you aren’t down for him ravaging your clit.

loser miguel who has to make do with you buying him lunch one day because you insisted on something other than the ‘quality time’ he proposed. he was too busy forcing himself not to ogle at your face when he suggested it, to even notice the way your gaze softens at his kind offer, or the flicker of hope in your eyes when he smiles awkwardly at you.

loser miguel who’s too self conscious for his own good. he’s been told countless times how easy it would be for him to walk into any bar and have anyone come home with him.

there’s always plenty of girls who throw themselves at him, the waitresses who tell him when their shift ends, the delivery drivers who offer to settle for a different payment, the women he works with offering to stay behind with him to work on different projects. and maybe if he wasn’t so oblivious he would have said yes at some point, too fed up of his palm and whatever fucked up porn he can find to resist the rush of arousal that hits him whenever he sees a pair of tits.

but that was before he’d met you, it’s different. sophia vergara herself could get down on her knees for him and he would deny her. she doesn’t have your smile, your charisma, you cheery laugh, your perky ass, your soft, homely scent that lingers on everything you touch , no one does.

loser miguel who has to excuse himself from the project meeting because he can’t hide his erection, no matter how many times he changes position.

much to his dismay, the toilets are full and your hand placed lazily on his thigh as you idly fidget with his fingers has left him with an achingly hard cock. so he has to hobble down the, thankfully, barren hallways, cock so hard it hurts to walk.

he pulls himself into the lab, door locked firmly behind him as he pushes himself into the corner. hastily, his hands reach for his belt buckle, fingers fumbling with the urgency that shoots through his veins.

a low, shaky groan escapes him as he finally wraps him clammy palm around his cock, precum already spilling everywhere. he starts of with soft, gentle strokes, hoping that it’ll be enough to get him off but all he can think about is the way you leaned into him as the two of you walked into the conference room this morning.

his deep brown eyes scan the lab lazily until they land on your lab coat. in a moment of desperation, he grabs it and brings it up to his nose, cock instantly growing harder as your scent takes over his senses.

his hand moves faster now, more deliberate and hungry strokes that cause his hips to stutter and countless prayers of your name to fall from his lips.

“migs?” for a second he thinks he’s gone insane. he’s started hearing your voice, feeling your warmth, the sweetness of the air around you, when he knows damn well your in that meeting.

“migs, you okay?” you call out again, concern clear in your shaky tone, “the lab was locked but i couldn’t find you anywhere else.”

fuck

you’re in here. but he’s so close and if you keep standing in that exact position he can see your ass without you even knowing he’s there.

“there you are! i was so worried when you rushed out of that meeting,” you ramble, finally turning the corner, only to be met with the sight of miguel’s head rolled back and leaky cock on show with… is that your lab coat?

“fuck! i’m so sorry,” you yell, hands flying up to cover your reddened face.

“ay coño,” he husks, still pumping at his cock, too close to stop now.

you try to back away but those gentle, mahogany eyes you love so much are glowing a fierce red, drawing you in closer to miguel and his burning desire for you.

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tag list: @xxyaoi-nationxx @farrowroyale @m4dyy

[puma-riki]

You Make Me So Thirsty

Synopsis 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦

Pairing Vampire Bf! Jay x GN! Reader | Genre ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ | Warnings ʙɪᴛɪɴɢ, ꜱᴋɪɴꜱʜɪᴘ, ᴋɪꜱꜱɪɴɢ, ᴊᴀʏ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴘᴀᴛʜᴇᴛɪᴄ | A/N Not sure how to feel about this AND I HAD NO TIME TODAY TO MAKE A RIKI SMAU UPDATE so take this instead

----------------------------

You were driving Jay absolutely fucking insane.

Not in the way that you were insufferably annoying, but actually the exact opposite. You were everything he wanted, everything he craved, and that was exactly the problem. The sweet, intoxicating scent of your blood clung to the air whenever you were near, and it was enough to make his throat burn like fire. The more time he spent away from you, the harder it became to push the hunger down.

He missed you. He missed you so damn much it hurt.

The texts and calls you sent—checking on him, asking if he was alright—made his chest tighten. He could picture the worried crease between your brows, the way your voice wavered just slightly when you asked him over the phone. You never overdid it, always so careful not to bother him. But it killed him to see your concern, knowing he was the reason for it.

He wanted to answer every message truthfully and whole heartedly, wanted to rush back to you and pull you into his arms, reassure you that he was fine. More than fine—he was craving you like a starved man. But that was the exact reason he stayed away.

He had only sent short responses back to you and turned down your offers to go out together, he would've ignored your calls entirely too but he's simply too weak, so he would answer with short but gentle reassuring words that he hoped would be enough for you while he tried to push away this burning desire for the time being.

Much to his dismay, it did not ease your concern at all.

You were starting to wonder if Jay was having second thoughts about your relationship. The past week, he had been distant—physically and emotionally. The last time you saw each other in person, you craved his closeness, so you tried to interlock your arm with his. Instead, he lightly shrugged you off and opted to hold your hand instead.

On the train ride, you sat next to him, but he leaned away from you. When you kissed his cheek, he jumped and covered his nose and leaned away as if he were trying to distance himself even more. You even attempted to hug him before you parted ways; usually, he would bury his face in your neck and hold you tightly, but that day, he barely wrapped his arms around you. He quickly took your arms off from around his neck, pinched your cheek, and hurriedly said his goodbyes, practically running from your doorstep.

Seriously, did you smell bad or something? Did you say something that upset him? Did you give him the ick? Do guys even get the ick? What the fuck?

You confided in your guys' mutual friends about your worries, and they were absolutely no help. As a final resort, you went directly to your youngest friend Ni-ki, who couldn't keep a secret for the life of him.

"And anytime I tried to get close, he leaned away and even covered his nose. He couldn't even look at me directly!" You scoffed and crossed your arms as you leaned back in the booth you were sitting in, across from Ni-ki, in a dimly lit diner. The milkshake you ordered sits in front of you, untouched.

Ni-ki's body seemed to stiffen and for a split second his eyes flickered away from your sulky state.

the hesitation in his eyes was enough to make your heart sink. You could feel the shift in the air, like he knew something he wasn’t telling you.

‘Maybe you’re overthinking this,’ you told yourself, but his next move only confirmed your suspicions.

‘He’s probably just… you know, going through something,’ Ni-ki said, his voice a little too casual, his fingers fidgeting with the bottom of his milkshake glass ‘I’m sure he’ll come around.’

You narrowed your eyes at him. That wasn’t the usual Ni-ki response. Normally, he’d blurt out whatever he knew without a second thought, but now… he was holding back. You couldn’t ignore the way his shoulders had tensed, or the fact that he wouldn’t meet your gaze anymore.

"Ni-ki…" you pressed, your voice softening. "Do you know what’s going on?"

His eyes darted to the side again, and you could tell he was fighting an internal battle, chewing on the inside of his cheek like he always did when he was nervous. It was obvious he was trying to keep something hidden.

"I…" He trailed off, clearing his throat awkwardly. "I wish I could tell you," he mumbled, before catching himself and quickly adding, "I mean, I don’t know much! Jay just— maybe he's just got something going on, you know?" He took a sip of his milkshake to stop himself from digging a deeper hole for both himself and Jay.

But you could see right through him. Ni-ki wasn’t good at lying— at least not to you.

That same night Ni-ki, who had been sworn to secrecy, ran to jay and told him about the encounter, begging him to just fess up and tell you what was up because he could not take lying to you over something as touchy as this.

You were too sweet. Too tempting. Jay's resolve was already wearing thin, and every day he avoided you, it chipped away just a little more.

He wanted to be honest with you and tell you the truth.

He wanted to, really. God, how he wanted to hear your voice, to be close to you again. You didn’t even know how much he missed you—how desperately he craved your presence, your laugh, your touch. It was driving him insane. But how could he let you get close when the thought of your blood made him feel like a monster?

It wasn’t just about the hunger, though that alone was unbearable. It was the fear that you’d look at him differently—that you’d think he was weird or disgusting for wanting something so wrong, so unnatural.

You knew what he was. You’d known from the start that he wasn’t human, that he fed on blood. But that didn’t make it easier. What if you realized how badly he wanted your blood? What if you saw him as nothing more than a monster—a predator who couldn’t be trusted around you?

He shuddered at the thought. You meant more to him than anyone else in the world, and the idea of you looking at him with fear, or worse, disgust, twisted his insides.

He hated himself for wanting it, for the way his body reacted when you were near, how the scent of your blood pulled him in like nothing else ever had. It made him feel... unnatural. Inhuman. And if you found out just how badly he craved you, would you still want to be with him? Or would you pull away, realizing that he wasn’t someone you could be safe around?

Jay covered his face with his hands, trying to block out the mental image of you backing away from him, looking at him like the monster he feared you’d see. He was terrified of it—terrified of losing you because he couldn’t control what he was. Because the desire to drink your blood felt so primal, so wrong, and so overwhelming. And yet, there was nothing he could do to stop it.

The truth was, he was just as scared of you leaving him as he was of hurting you. His love for you made him weak. Pathetic, even.

He’d told himself that feeding on animals would be enough. It had been, for a while. But now... Now, he wasn’t so sure. The scent of your blood had become so much stronger than anything else, like it was calling to him, pulling him in every time he thought of you. He couldn’t trust himself around you—not like this.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. You were the one thing keeping him tethered to his humanity, but also the greatest risk to it. The thought of losing control around you was too much to bear. He’d never forgive himself if he hurt you, but being apart from you was tearing him apart in a different way.

Just a little longer, he told himself. If I can hold out just a little longer, this will pass. It had to.

His phone buzzed again, your name lighting up his screen. His chest tightened, he squeezed his eyes shut and covered his face again, fighting the urge to answer, to beg you not to hate him for what he was.

He peered through his fingers at his phone that sat in front of him on the coffee table, almost mockingly. He double tapped his screen to turn it on. Your text from 10 minutes ago showed on the screen and Jay nearly broke his neck

Angel: I can't handle it anymore. I'm coming over.

Just then a sharp knock came from his door.

It was like Jay had just woken up because it was only now that he realized it was pouring rain outside, the sun had set hours ago, and he was just sitting in the dark in his living room.

fuck.

as much as his heart fluttered (though he technically didn't have a heartbeat) he prayed that you had meant that text for someone else and it was actually his elderly next door neighbor asking him to help find her cat again.

He swung the door open and it was in fact, not his neighbor.

It was you. Drenched from head to toe and out of breath, eyes watery, clutching the strap of your purse in one hand that had probably dropped from your shoulder as you ran to his place.

As beautiful as you look right now, his mind had to push away the instinct to just grab you and coddle you the rest of the night (and maybe the rest of his life) while he kissed your worries and fears away.

"Jay..." you breathed, you sounded as exhausted as you looked

"[name] you shouldn't be out here its dangerous, what are you doing!?" He was genuine with his warning about the rain but also he could already smell the sweet scent of your blood that was flowing through your whole body. He was lucky the rain dampened the smell.

"I know, I know, but I wanted to see-" You were still breathless as you took a step forward.

Jay took a step back and cut you off, "You can see me later, Its late and you're all wet. I'll drive you home." Jay rushed out. He was eager to get rid of you, though he wanted to do everything but.

"What- Jay seriously-" Before you could finish, Jay turned his back on you to grab his keys hanging by his door. You stared at his back, You were frustrated with him. He had been practically ignoring you over the phone and now he was ignoring you while you stood right in front of him.

You let out a groan," Jay!" and suddenly you jumped on his back. Jay flinched at the sudden extra, soaking-wet weight clinging to him, yet instinctively, his hands grabbed under your thighs to keep you from falling. The rain started to lose its effect on dampening the smell, the warmth of your body against his back was unbearable. His senses were going haywire

"what are you doing!?"

"I did not run all the way here for you to ignore me straight to my face Park Jongseong." Your voice was stern, even as you wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

You were close. Too close. Incredibly close, and you were going to kill him. Jays hands shook as he held onto you, the scent of your blood flooding his mind. He tried to push it away, tried to focus on anything else, but you were making it impossible

“[Name], get down,” he said, his voice barely holding together. “You’ll catch a cold or something worse if you stay in these clothes.” But really, he wasn’t thinking about your clothes, or the rain, or anything practical. He was thinking about how soft your body felt against his, how warm your breath was on his neck, and how painfully bad he wanted to turn around and kiss you.

But he couldn’t.

You didn’t move. “Then stop avoiding me!” The frustration and crack in your voice cut through the storm outside. Jay could hear it, could feel it in the way your arms clenched around him. And it tore him apart. He was the reason you were like this, the reason you were upset, crying, drenched from the rain.

And all because he was trying to keep you safe from the monster he knew he was.

“Jay...” Your voice softened, and that was worse. The raw hurt in your tone was worse than anything. “What did I do wrong? Why won’t you talk to me?” Your head rested on his shoulder and Jay swore he could feel his knees almost give out under him.

Jay’s heart sank. You thought you had done something wrong? His chest tightened, the guilt crashing over him. How could he let you think that?

“Angel, you didn’t—” he started, but you interrupted him, your voice trembling as the emotions you’d been holding in finally spilled over. You hugged him tighter.

“If you want to break up with me, you should just say so.” Your voice cracked again, and Jay nearly collapsed under the weight of your words. “Just—don’t keep pretending like everything’s fine while you push me away. I can’t take it, Jay. I can’t keep doing this.”

You slid down from his back, landing softly on the floor behind him, your arms wrapping around yourself. You felt small, pitiful, and a bit cold. When Jay turned to face you, the sight of you standing there, drenched and crying as the rain poured outside his open front door, made him feel like the worst person in the world. He wanted to protect you from everything—especially himself. But now, seeing you like this, he realized how badly he had hurt you.

You sniffled, wiping at your face, but the tears kept coming. “I’ve been trying to give you space, but you just keep pushing me further away, and I don’t know why. If I’m the problem, just tell me. I can handle it." You paused, sniffling, your hands trembling as you reached up to push your wet hair from your face. "But if you don’t want me anymore, don’t—don’t string me along. Just say it, and I’ll leave.”

Leave? The word hit Jay like a punch to the gut. The idea of you leaving, of losing you, made him feel like he was falling apart. He wanted to scream that you were the last thing he wanted to lose—that you meant everything to him.

Jay felt his throat tighten, guilt crashing over him like a wave. He wanted to wrap his arms around you and hold you close, tell you that it wasn’t you—it was him. That he was terrified of hurting you. That the scent of your blood was enough to make him lose control. But the words felt stuck in his throat.

"[name], that's not-" Jay saw you shiver when a gust of wind blew past you. He reached behind you and closed the door. “I-I’m sorry,” he finally muttered, his voice so quiet it barely reached you. He took a step forward but hesitated, his hands hovering in the air like he wanted to touch you but didn’t trust himself to get that close.

“You think I don’t want you?” Jay’s voice was strained, full of pain. He shook his head, almost in disbelief. “I want you so bad, it’s killing me.”

You blinked, stunned by his confession, your tears still flowing. “Then why are you pushing me away?”

Jay clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists at his sides. He wanted to tell you everything, to explain why he was keeping his distance. But how could he admit that he was afraid of what he’d do if he got too close? That the very thing he loved about you—your warmth, your life, your blood—was the same thing making him want to run?

“I’m... scared.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Your brow furrowed, confusion mixing with the sadness in your eyes. “Scared? Of what?”

Jay let out a shaky breath, his resolve crumbling. He couldn’t keep lying to you. “Of hurting you. Of what I might do if I’m around you too much.” His voice cracked, and he looked away, ashamed. “I’m scared that if I lose control, I won’t be able to stop myself. You don’t know what you do to me, [Name]. You don’t know how hard it is to be near you and not...” He trailed off, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

You stared at him, your heart breaking all over again. “Jay... you’d never hurt me. I know you.”

Jay shook his head, his eyes squeezing shut. “You don’t understand. It’s not just about knowing me—it’s about knowing what I am. I want you, but not just in the way you think. Every time you’re near, every second, I’m fighting the urge to—” He stopped, swallowing hard. “You’d think I’m a freak if you knew how much I want your blood.”

The raw vulnerability in his voice shook you. You’d always known what Jay was, but this... this was something else. You reached out, taking his trembling hand in yours. “Jay, I know what you are. I’ve always known. And I’m not afraid of you.”

Jay’s breath hitched as he looked down at your hand in his, his heart aching with the desire to pull you close. But his guilt weighed him down like chains, keeping him rooted in place. “But what if... What if one day I can’t hold back? What if I hurt you?”

You stepped closer, your eyes locking with his, and your voice softened. “You won’t. You’ve never hurt me, and you won’t start now.”

Tears threatened to fall from Jay’s eyes, but he blinked them back. He wanted to believe you so badly. He wanted to believe that he could trust himself. But the fear was still there, gnawing at the edges of his mind. He wasn’t just some guy who could get a handle on his impulses—he was a vampire, and the scent of your blood was like a drug.

But you were standing there, soaked and shivering, still holding his hand, still looking at him like he was Jay—not a monster from hell. And in that moment, he didn’t feel like one. He just felt like a man who was hopelessly, pathetically in love with you.

"I'll... get you a change of clothes." He sniffled and looked down at his feet. You knew he was trying to avoid this now that you were aware of his feelings.

His hand gently pulled at yours to lead you to his room. You quickly stepped out of your shoes and followed him (not that it was any use, you were already dripping all over his entryway). Your heart was just a bit lighter, but an anchor was dragging you down.

Jay handed you a pair of pajama pants you always left at his place and one of his sweaters to change into. He lay back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling while you changed in his connected bathroom. He could still feel your lingering scent in the air and hear your heartbeat pump blood all throughout your body, a heady reminder of everything he wanted to hold onto.

The door opening and warm lighting shining into the room made him look towards you, rubbing the ends of your hair with a towel and the discarding it into a hamper.

You gave him a soft smile and walked towards his edge of the bed, the cozy sweater hanging loosely on your frame.

"Hi."

"Hi," Jay replied, a shy smile creeping up on his face. But it disappeared as quick as it came. "I should probably get you home now." The rain had lost its effect, and he could feel that familiar carnal desire clawing at his insides.

Your fingers reached to play with the sleeve of his hoodie, “Jay?"

"Hmm?"

Jay glanced over at you, his heart fluttering despite the heaviness that hung in the air. “I know you’re avoiding talking about it,” you said, your voice soft yet firm.

He sighed, unable to meet your gaze. “It’s just… complicated.”

“Complicated how?” Jay moved over a bit for you. You took a seat at the edge of the bed, your expression earnest. “You’ve been distant, Jay. I can’t help but feel like I did something wrong.”

“No, you didn’t! It’s not you, it’s me,” he blurted out, pushing himself up on his elbows to finally face you. “I just—being around you right now is… hard.”

You raised an eyebrow, the concern etched on your face deepening. “Hard how? You can tell me.”

Jay ran a hand through his hair, frustration, and longing mixing inside him. “It’s your blood,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s sweet and intoxicating, I can smell it so strongly when I'm near you, it makes my teeth ache, and my head spin." Jay's eyes flickered to yours and then towards your legs that were pulled up on the bed. He suddenly took interest in rubbing his knuckle against your thigh under your gaze. "I can’t control myself around you... I’ve been trying to keep my distance for your safety.”

You studied him, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his eyes. “You think I don’t know what you are? I love you, Jay. I know the risks, and I’m okay with it.”

He shook his head, the guilt weighing him down. “But I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of monster, wanting to drink your blood. It’s… it’s a primal desire.”

You scooted closer, tucking your legs under you and taking his hand in yours. “You’re not a monster. You’re the same Jay I fell in love with. I can see how much you care about me. You’ve been avoiding me out of love.”

His eyes softened, but he remained hesitant. “But what if I lose control? What if I hurt you?”

You leaned in closer, your gaze unwavering. “You won’t. I trust you, Jay. I trust you to control yourself, just like you’ve trusted me to understand you. I want to be with you, all of you—even the parts that scare you.”

He searched your eyes, looking for any hint of hesitation. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” you replied, your voice steady and reassuring. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to push me away. I’m right here, and I want you to be honest with me.” Your other hand reached to hold his cheek.

Jay’s heart raced, a mixture of relief and fear swirling within him. “You really mean it?”

"Of course I do," You gaze flickered towards his lips, and you leaned in slowly, "Don't be silly."

Jay rolled his eyes playfully as he pulled you into his lap with a smile. Your arms wrapped around his neck as his rested on your waist. He felt giddy having you back in his arms after so long (Literally a week but okay) His eyes flitted to your lips, a thought crossed his mind, and his smile faded.

"What if... I accidentally bite your lip with my fangs? And then-" His head leaned back to rest against the headboard.

His eyes went back towards your face, and you didn't look very impressed or amused.

"Sorry."

"It's okay... it's cute." And you finally kissed him, your eyes fluttered closed along with his.

Jay couldn’t stop himself from smiling as your lips moved against each other, every brush igniting a fire within him. He felt as if he had been starving, and you were the only thing that could satisfy him. His arms fully circled your waist, pulling you closer, as if to tether you to him forever. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, getting lost in the sweet taste of you.

But the longer he kissed you, the more his instincts surged, a primal need awakening in him. The intoxicating scent of your blood was like a siren song, drawing him further into his desires. He felt himself growing bolder, the kiss turning heated as he instinctively flipped you, hovering over you, his weight pressing you into the soft mattress beneath.

You pushed him back slightly, Jay chasing your lips and your breath mingling with his. “Jay… are you okay?”

He looked into your eyes, panting softly. “I just—” he hesitated, the struggle within him palpable. “It’s been too long. I missed you so much. But I want more than just this. I need—”

Your voice was gentle, yet firm as you placed a hand on his cheek. “You can have it, Jay. If you need to feed… I want you to. Just be honest with me.”

The offer hung between you like an electric charge. Jay's gaze darkened, desire battling with the urge to protect you. He pressed his forehead against yours, searching your eyes again. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to be in pain. Not like that.”

You nodded, your voice steady. “I trust you. Just... please, don’t push me away again.”

With that, he captured your lips once more, the kiss deepening with newfound urgency. He could feel his fangs brushing against your soft skin, a reminder of what lay beneath. You tasted so sweet, and the heat of your body was a drug he couldn’t resist. Each kiss was a battle against his instincts, and with every passing moment, he felt himself slipping further into the depths of his longing.

His lips strayed from yours and trailed from the corner of your lips to your chin, jaw, and down to your neck. Being this close to the source that had been driving him insane for weeks felt hypnotic. He could hear your heart hammering in your chest. Each pulse seemed to beckon him closer, igniting a primal instinct within him that he had fought so hard to suppress. Your hands trailed from the back of his neck and up to his hair, your nails soothingly scratching his scalp, sending chills down his spine.

Every kiss along your neck was a tantalizing reminder of the sweet temptation he craved, and with each gentle press of his lips, he felt his resolve beginning to waver. His mind raced with thoughts of how desperately he wanted to cherish this moment, to savor the warmth of your skin against his, but the intoxicating scent of your blood was pushing him to the edge.

Jay pressed several kisses along your neck, listening to your heart rate slow and your breaths even out, before he nipped at the skin. He could feel the heat radiating from you, enveloping him in a cocoon of desire. The familiar voice in his head whispered warnings of what he could do, yet all he wanted was to lose himself in you completely.

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the cool touch of his fangs against your skin, a shiver of anticipation coursing through you.

As his fangs pierced your skin, a rush of warmth enveloped you, almost electric. It was painful for a second, and then it wasn’t; rather, it felt like a gentle caress, a merging of your essences that drew you both closer together. Jay’s grip on you tightened as he drew from you, a low groan escaping his lips that sent a jolt of excitement down your spine. The sensation was both exhilarating and soothing, a bond deepening between you in a way that felt almost sacred.

With each sip, you could feel his thirst for you mingling with a tenderness that wrapped around your heart like a warm blanket. He wasn’t just feeding; he was connecting, pouring his longing and affection into every gentle pull. You could sense the desperation in him, the way he fought against his instincts while still allowing himself to savor the sweetness of this moment.

“Jay,” you whispered, your voice soft and comforting. “It’s okay… I’m right here.” The words were a balm to him, a reminder that he wasn’t just a monster, but someone deeply in love.

Jay relaxed at your words and continued for a few beats before pulling away, the whole thing made you feel dizzy. He pressed light kisses to the fresh bite mark on your neck and trailed back up to your face. He trailed kissed all over your face and mumbled out, "I love you." as he did, making you giggle.

"You know, you could've done this weeks ago if you just asked."

"I think your line was supposed to be 'I love you too.'"

[radiance1]

Based on the wonderful designs made by @puppetmaster13u specifically the Blob King Danny ones!

Danny stared down small child before him, scowling and pointing a sword at him, ready to stab him Danny bets. Danny slowly crossed his arms, letting out a slight hum.

This was not what he expected when his little ones wanted to lead him somewhere.

He turned his head slightly, staring at the pit that held glowing green water and, slightly. Ever so slightly.

Shivered.

The amount of life in that thing made his skin crawl, and he hasn't felt that in a while.

He then turned his gaze back down to the child, who, outwardly, looked no different. But he could see the curiosity hidden behind the pure hostility at the slightest shift to attention towards one of his little ones.

So, Danny made a decision.

Faster than the kid could react, he picked him up in a way that would let him not be stabbed immediately and left.

---

Henry fidgeted with his glasses, eyes determined not to find their way to the kid held by the King Class entity standing before him or, Danny, as he would be preferred to be called.

"Who is this...?" He looked at the ghost in question, silent hope in his heart that this isn't what he thinks it was.

"Your newest little brother!" Danny ruthlessly crushed said hope, albeit unknowingly. "Found him, liked him, didn't see any guardians around so I adopted him!"

Henry knew there was a lot of differences between ghosts and humans. But never had he been so dismayed over such a difference in culture.

"Um, Danny...?" He began, placing his glasses on his face as he sweat dropped.

"You can call me dad too, of course!" Danny flashed a beaming smile full of teeth his way, and Henry was touched by the sentiment, really, he was.

"You can't just kidnap a random child just because he seemingly," Henry stressed the word, to signify its importance and to hopefully drive home the point. "Had no guardians around."

"Well that's good!" Danny said, smile not dropping one bit and in fact, growing wider as his tail wagged. "Cause I adopted! Not kidnapped!"

"Danny-"

The ex-scientist was cut off by the sound of a blade piercing flesh, and he slowly looked down to find the child stabbing a knife through Danny's stomach.

Oh dear.

---

Damian smirked, finally having been able to injure his kidnapper. The man was a fool, daring to drop his guard around him and easing his grip. It worked out for Damian, of course.

He twisted knife in the man's stomach, utterly disregarding the other one entirely. He seemed weak, so he was a non-issue.

When a moment passed and Damian wasn't dropped, his brows furrowed a bit in confusion as he twisted the knife again.

A beat.

He slowly looked up the sound of a giggle, finding a wide, fanged smile staring down at him with curved, pleased eyes containing a touch of pleased surprise, a hint of pride and a glint that Damian could only describe as manic.

"Knew I picked up a good one." The man purred, voice sounding a slight bit inhuman in his excitement. "We're going to get along well, you and I."

The man giggled and Damian, shamefully, found himself wanting to step back as something felt off about the man. Foreign.

Other.

"Welcome to the family, little champion."

[icbgwy]

not strong enough ꕥ kwon jae-sung x fem!reader

synopsis : with the seikai teikai only allowing six participants from each dojo to join, you start to reconsider the role karate might play in your life, much to your boyfriend’s dismay.

genre : angst

warning(s) : shouting, micommunication, ambiguous ending.

It was midnight, and the two of you should’ve been in bed resting to get up early for training at dawn, but Kwon had decided to take it upon himself to sneak out with you and celebrate his upcoming departure to Barcelona for the Seikai Teikai. 

The moon cast a glow on the mountain tops, a place you both had discovered together, somewhere to escape the watchful eyes of others. 

You sat next to Kwon, admiring his features while simultaneously debating on whether to tell him of your future plans. His face was loaded with excitement as he talked lively about the upcoming tournament. 

You felt guilty for what you were about to do knowing how it would ruin the sweet moment between the two of you, but keeping it in any longer felt like torture. You couldn’t keep lying to him.

“Kwon, I need to tell you something… I’m quitting the dojang and moving back to Seoul,” you said, your voice trembling. You cringed at the words leaving your mouth, making the decision in your head all too real. There’s no turning back now. 

It took him a while to register what you’d said. He looked at you with confusion written all over his face. “Wait, why!? You want to leave the dojang?” he asked in bewilderment.

You reached for his hand, your thumb tracing over his knuckles riddled with scars from the intensive training that Sensei Kim had no problem giving out. She was one of the many reasons on your mental list for wanting to leave. 

“I know we said we’d do this together, but I—” you tried to explain to him, but he cut you off, pushing your hands away as he stood up abruptly. 

His anger was getting the best of him. He couldn’t understand where this was coming from. Everything was going so well. Why would you want to leave him the dojang?

“But you what? Huh? Tell me why!” he demanded, his voice rising with each word, echoing in the quiet night. 

“I don’t have a future in karate, not in the same way you do at least. I’m not strong or passionate enough for it,” you embarrassingly admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“But you are strong! I‘ve seen it myself.” He tried to reassure you hoping it would make you stay.

“You’re only saying that because you’re my boyfriend. I’m weak. Sensei Kim and Sensei Kreese know it too, even if they don’t say it. If I was as strong as you say I am, I would be going to Barcelona with you, but I’m not.” You looked down as you fidgeted with your hands, scared that if you didn’t, you’d start crying.

Kwon’s jaw clenched in frustration, pacing back and forth trying to regulate his anger with some breathing technique you had taught him when you first started dating. The memories of those early days together flooded back in his mind making him all too vulnerable to his own tears.

After some time, he sat down next to you, and in a low, exasperated tone asked, “Why couldn’t you wait until after the tournament to quit or at least tell me? Why does it have to be now?” He looked into your eyes, his filled with desperation and yours filled with guilt. The reality of the moment pressed down on you, making it hard to think.

“I can’t keep lying to you Kwon, it’s not fair the both of us. I can’t waste any more time chasing a future that isn’t plausible. I’m fine with not being the strongest, but I need to move back to Seoul and start getting ready for the suneung.” A sense of ease washed over you as you finally spoke the truth, but it was quickly replaced by the ache of seeing Kwon’s reaction. His eyes were glossy, and his eyebrows wrinkled in concentration making sure his tears didn’t spill.

Kwon let out a heavy sigh. “We’ve come so far together. Why can’t we keep going?”

“I need to find my own path, even if it means leaving you and the dojang behind,” you replied.

He sat in silence for a while, his mind racing as he tried to process your words. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely audible. “I’ll miss you.”

“I know you will, but just know I’ll be cheering you on. No matter where you are. I’ll miss you too,” you replied, your heart breaking at the thought of leaving him. He looked at you, his eyes searching for something, anything, that could change your mind. But deep down, he knew this was something you had thought long and hard about. The silence between you was heavy, filled with all the things left unsaid.

© icbgwy all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my works on any platforms

[fidgets-dismay]

some artwork of my fursona/persona George!

they go by they/them! They are agender!!

im constantly making edits to their design but the first two are my main ones!

+ a bonus drawing of my redesigned old oc Biscuit! (All pronouns)

they are just as silly as they look!!! Yes they have committed Tax Fraud AND Tax evasion.

[obriengf]

I just know for a fact that while Stiles is still majorly crushing on his girl best friend, he continuously pokes her just to annoy the fuck out of her and get a reaction (even if it's very negative, anything counts), but deep down, he also really enjoys any physical contact, no matter how much or how little. I JUST LOVE THAT SILLY LITTLE GUY

PLEASE OKAY, this is going to be a whole thing now ~ i also literally took this way off book and just kept writing but please i agree 10000000% with your idea, clearly! also didn't expect to get an 18+ warning here but the last paragraph is not for minors!

it doesn't help that this beautiful specimen has too much energy; he is constantly moving, and the need to touch and feel becomes a necessity once he finds himself absentmindedly gravitating closer to you at every minuscule opportunity. and to an extent... you know that it is his language of needing comfort, a silent plea for grounding; so you allow the way his shoulder or thigh sits against yours at the lunch table, or how he steadies himself with his hand on your shoulder as he reverses the jeep. at the cinema, you even reached out to hold his hand when you noticed how he fidgeted with a fraying piece of string from the hem of his lacrosse hoodie.

you gave stiles comfort, and the schoolboy crush he had developed since he was fourteen only grew more rapidly. with this comfort came confidence - and his hands, or any part of his body, always found a way to be near you. he remembers clearly when the wind had been wild during one night of a lacrosse game, he watched as you pulled your coat closer to your shivering frame, but he focused more on tucking loose strands of hair back and away from your face. stiles' knuckles were so delicate as they caressed the velvet skin of your cheek as they rose from your smile and he knew in that moment that he never wanted to be apart from you again.

stiles so easily gains happiness from the small squeal you make as his fingers jab gently into your sides - how you'd jump, squirm, laugh at the ticklish sensation that shook your frame and he adored the sound. to no end. it was a reaction that fuelled him but even when the moment drew an annoyed sigh or slap away of his hands, he kept going - absorbing your energy, hearing your voice, feeling your hand against the sensitivity of his skin is what made his heart swell more for you.

when you hug him - man, he can hear angels sing, he can feel his body ignite with warmth as his blood courses with a shot of serotonin that would last hours. stiles would react immediately as his arms wrapped themselves around you, pulling your body close to his, his nose gently nuzzling against your temple. he would never feel more content than in these fleeting moments of an over-loving heart that brought butterflies alive within his chest. these were moments of pure happiness.

then, you had moments of pure angst. ones that caused his eyes to sting, and his heart to act in a completely different way - it would ache, a heaviness that clenched and twisted, that left the boy in pain. your fists were balled as they pounded at his chest, the sound of your cries piercing through his ears as he felt each fist clash with much more dismay than he thought possible. an argument, a fight, a case of miscommunication and anguish that led to two souls falling apart. stiles let you go as he stood still and your hands continued to push and pull at his chest, until he felt scared... he would do anything for you, even if it meant that he would break, but the possibility of losing you was much worse. so he would grab your wrists gently, enough to stop you as he peered into your watery eyes. he was on the verge of tears himself before he pulled you to him as close as humanly possible and he held you. tight. until the cries ceased, and your trembling arms held him back.

it was straight out of a romantic comedy the first time he kissed you. stopping you in the middle of talking, his willpower to control himself slowly sinking away until he thought 'fuck it'. you were shining so bright, epitomising the sun and he loved it. he leaned across the small space between you both as you sat in the jeep, his hands grabbing at your cheeks as his lips pressed to yours. he was so gentle with you, as if one ounce of roughness would break your delicate composure. you were gorgeous, porcelain fragility in the palm of his hands and he wanted to treat you so well, so right. the prodding of one's tongue, a moment in which was so whimsical neither could remember who initiated it, however, it was a moment indeed that sealed every emotion that was bubbling within the boy. the depth and caressing, the dance of tongues and harmonious rhythm as you both moved... it was his favourite touch, by far.

stiles felt both at ease and completely on edge when he was inside of you. a strange concoction of a racing heart that was utterly peaceful, the sensation of running a marathon and taking a well-earned deep breath, melting from a fiery heat whilst also chasing cooling tranquillity. the way you hugged every vein and ridge as he plummeted into you, over and over again, was a dizzying effect. his fingers digging into your exposed skin as he held you so close - one unit moving together over plaid bedsheets, friction burning against his skin as you soothed it with wandering hands that covered every inch of him without fault. his lips dragged lazily as he panted, your neck, your chest, your lips, swelling with purple-pink hues. nothing could beat the feeling of having you fall so beautifully apart around him.

stiles stilinski's love language is touch, abso-fucking-lutely.

[shycoconutt]

It seems when it comes to Nanami Kento, your body has a mind of its own.

Because here you are standing like an idiot, with a brown bag containing various warm pastries and a cup of black coffee, alone in his office in the early hours of the morning, feeling like you’ve fought and won many battles but are currently losing the war.

The war that was once your past and now, to your dismay, is your present too.

The sun has just barely peaked over the mountains, a warm orange glow cascading through the windows of Jujutsu Tech. Placing your offerings on his large wooden desk, you can’t help the exaggerated sigh that escapes your lips.

What has gotten into you.

The entire walk from your apartment, to the bakery, then to work at 8 o’clock in the morning was spent mumbling and grumbling to yourself.

Whatever happened to keeping your distance? Standing your ground? Huh? So what if today’s his birthday? So you happen to know his order at his favorite bakery across town, who cares? Huh? Hello? Are you listening to me—

You probably have a red mark on your forehead from how many times you slapped yourself on the way over here.

Truth is, you know it’s dumb, but the thought of not one person wishing Kento a happy birthday or giving him a gift today makes your stomach hurt. He only just reinstated himself as a sorcerer a couple months ago, and it’s highly likely that no one else but you remembers the importance of this summer day.

Your face warms slightly thinking about teenage Kento and that stupid party hat Satoru forced him to wear for the duration of your class singing him happy birthday. He stood there like an emotionless toothpick. It was hilarious.

Smiling to yourself, you grab a pen and a single sheet from his notepad laid out on his desk and scribble a few words before leaving it there and exiting his office.

~

“Ino,” you yell from your seat on a bench at the sparing field, “you gotta keep your fists close to your chest in a defensive position when fighting. The reason you keep getting knocked over is because you’re leaving yourself wide open.”

With your arms outstretched over the back of the bench, you lift up your head to feel the warm sun rays on your face. It is a hot one today, and you somewhat regret telling your students that you would be working on combat outside all day.

Your decision came mostly because they need the practice, but partly because you know it’s easier to avoid Kento this way.

Five hours into the day, however, you know you have to give your students a break.

“Okay everyone,” you say, clapping your hands together, “why don’t you all take an hour for lunch and then meet back here. When you get back, each of you will take turns sparing with yours truly.”

You giggle at the mix of excited gasps and disappointed groans from your students. They know you won’t go easy on them, and that only excites a select few.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Though, to make up for it, I stashed some goodies in the fridge for you guys in the rec room…”

You blinked and your students were gone, only leaving a small trail of dust in their path. Feeling content in your solitude, you go back to basking in the sun, the soft noise of running water and chirping birds lulling you into a state of relaxation.

You about jump out of your own shoes when you hear someone softly clearing their throat behind you.

Looking over your shoulder, your eyes trail up the stone steps before you lock on a broad figure standing at the top of them, slicked back honey blonde hair threatening to tousle in the strong breeze.

“May I join you?”

No. Nope. Get lost.

“Uh, sure!”

Damn it.

Scooting over to one side of the bench to make room, you nervously fidget with your hands, suddenly very interested in the state of your cuticles.

In your peripheral, you notice he’s dressed lighter than usual. Instead of the tan suit, blue long sleeve dress shirt combo, he has on a pair of brown slacks with a linen tan short sleeve dress shirt. He looks really good.

Then again, he always looks good. Ever since his return, it was no surprise to you that his everyday wear was so formal. Nanami always had an affinity towards proper aesthetics. He holds himself at a higher standard than most and always feels morally obligated to do the right thing.

But, sometimes there is no right or wrong, sometimes the right choice for you is the wrong one for someone else, sometimes the right choice is the easier choice, the one that hurts less.

As he moves to sit next to you, you feel yourself hold your breath.

“The kids flew by me on the way here practically foaming at the mouths,” Nanami muses.

“Yeah, well, I bought them some candy and snacks from 7/11 this morning cause I walked past and knew I would be putting them through the wringer today. It’s honestly the least I could do. They’ll be hurting pretty good later.”

Nanami hums all-knowingly, smirking to himself.

“If memory serves me right, there were plenty of nights back in the day where I would have to take hours-long episome salt baths just to be able to fall asleep that night after a training session with you.”

You can’t help but smile and hum in amusement.

“You never were the best at hand-to-hand. However, once you started bringing blades and shit into the mix, I did often fear for my life.”

“I would have never hurt you, you know that,” Nanami scoffs.

“Yeah,” you pause, “at least with your blade anyway.”

You feel the air still around you. Nanami now leans himself back on the bench, lifting his hands behind him to support his head.

“Hm, I suppose I deserve that.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t…”

“However, what I do not deserve is your kindness,” Nanami states, staring at the field in front of him.

“Hm?”

“You bought me my favorite breakfast today, isn’t that correct?”

You turn to him now, feeling a warm blush rise to your cheeks.

“Yes.”

“And this is the most we’ve talked in a long time.”

“I suppose.”

“I half expected you to yell at me to go away.”

“I thought about it.”

Nanami smiles at this, turning to look at you for the first time, amber eyes looking down softly into yours.

“Thank you, darling. I loved it.”

The genuineness of his words swallow the world around you. You feel your heart lurch, and it’s painful.

Sitting here, so close to his form, you feel like you are two magnets. You wish you could just let go—let yourself give in. You want so badly to fly across the seat and have him absorb you. All of the empty parts of your soul are vacant because of him, and he could fill those crevices so easily, right where he once was so long ago.

You give him a sad smile, reaching your arm out, you bring the palm of your hand gently to his face, letting your thumb graze the skin of his cheek.

“You’re welcome, Kento.”

You allow yourself to touch him like this, but this is as far as you can go, at least for right now. Something you know he understands.

“Hey! Nanami is here!” Ino’s voice brings you out of your trance. You look up to see your students gathered together with all of the snacks, candy and drinks you got them in their hands. You quickly pull your hand away from Nanami so they don’t see.

You beam up at them.

“What are you guys doing back so soon?”

“Well we saw all the stuff you got us and decided it wouldn’t be right to eat all of it and not share some with you. You’re out here working hard too!”

“Aw, thanks you guys,” you smile, “Actually, you know what? This is perfect!”

Leaping up from your spot, you grab Nanami’s hand and gesture for him to stand up with you. He complies reluctantly.

“We can all share our spoils with our BIRTHDAY BOOOOOY!”

Nanami glares at you like you just told them his deepest, darkest secret. You give his hand a small squeeze before letting go, smiling up at him devilishly.

The kids are a blur as they gather around him, practically suffocating him with their enthusiasm. You watch as he battles any signs of joy as they jostle him around.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY NANAMIIIIIIIIIIIIIN!”

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Ex-husband!Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 2

Part 1, Part 2, (Part 3??)

Part 1 was many months ago.. oopsie! Been doing a lot of reading recently and HOLY FUCK I LOVE THE TWISTED SERIES BY ANA HUANG. I JUST FINISHED IT, CAN'T WAIT TO READ THE KING OF SINS SERIES (btw I finished it a long time ago, this draft just never made it out). Do y'all like want some stuff implemented from there, here? I'M THINKING KING OF GREED? 👀

Also.. This was supposed to be my birthday special, but what happened was I became busy and never got around to making a definitive ending.. but don't worry, this isn't where the series ends.

My goodness the taglist on this one almost doubled, to anyone who doesn't want to be part of the tags, please tell me so that I can remove you because this will be the official list and it's still open for more people who wanna see this series.

Warning: Too lazy to proof read since I have so much to do, please tell me any autocorrected, misspelled words in the replies so I can change it.. 😭

My CoD Masterlist

My Simon Riley x You Playlist

Simon sulked, his forehead resting on the soft mattress. His back and neck were aching yet he couldn't get the fear and worry out his head. You clear the fog in your head, your body felt sore despite the semi-comfortable bed you were laying on.

You groan softly, forcing yourself to sit-up, where the fuck was your daughter? Was she safe? In a panic you looked around the room, you let out a long, deep sigh as you saw her laying on the couch. Long blond hair splayed around messily on the pillow with a blanket that was barely hanging onto her body, she looked so peaceful.

You felt movement next to you, Simon woke up. He looks up to you, in a bit of a shock. He didn't say a word before holding you and guiding you back down to lay on the slightly adjusted bed, back against the pillow he fixed behind you, you wanted to fight it and protest but his strength was god-like on your still weak and not well rested body, your throat was dry to the point of pain and obvious discomfort.

Simon knows you better than you know yourself, resentment settled in your blood, felt more than the amount than when you missed him. He took the tightly sealed water bottle on the table next to your bed and pries it open, holding the bottle's opening to your lips.

You took a big gulp with his guide but you gently took the bottle off his hand into your own, your fingers brushing his a bit in the process, basically telling him you could do it yourself. A few more gulps down and your throat was eased, you handed back the water bottle to Simon.

He was fidgeting with his hands, his fingers rubbing and grazing the spot your fingers accidentally touched. You looked down with dismay as he takes the bottle from you and closes it.

Was he so disgusted and revolted by your touch that he's brushing off his fingers from it? You knew you didn't end it good terms but you had no idea he hated you that much. Maybe not.. are you overthinking? Probably.

It was silent, awkward, just hearing the IV drip and the beeps of the heart monitor. Simon wanted to say something so bad but what do you say to the love of your life who you've hurt severely and regret it because you still love her and want to be in her life again? Mouthful, he knows.

Simon had no right to you anymore, he couldn't even scold you and tell you to take better care of yourself anymore because that's what he used to do, it's way too familiar. He couldn't even touch you without him thinking it would make you uncomfortable.

You feel it, rather see it more but Simon wanted to die in the moment. Heavy breaths and clearly restless eyes, disheveled hair..

"How do you feel..?" He said, he looks elsewhere as he wanted to avoid the way your eyes chose to settle on him..

"I don't know..? I don't know how to process all this but there's no physical pain, just nausea.." you said, he got up to call a nurse and alert them that you're awake. He chose to step out while the doctor did the regular routine of checking everything.

"Momma?" You turn to your left at the couch where your daughter was sat up, rubbing her eyes.. she got off it and immediately ran to you, "I'm glad you're okay now.." she said which never failed to make you smile with how caring she tended to be..

"What happened bubs? Momma doesn't remember much except for fainting.." you asked the bundle of joy as you tried to piece back what had happened beforehand..

"I called dada when you fell, momma. I was so scared, I was shouting but you won't wake up.. dada took so long to get there but when he did, he asked me to go in the car while carried you inside to take you here.." she said, you took her off the ground and placed her at your side, embracing her little body.

"I'm sorry bubs, momma should've taken better care of herself.. if I had, I wouldn't have been so sick to the point of unconsciousness.." you felt so guilty, if only it had been under better circumstance then you would've been able to take care of yourself better and not put your child through what must've been a moment that should've set her in a panic.

"It's okay, momma. I'm a big girl now, I can take care of you like you take care of me.." her sweet little voice paused for a moment.

"Momma, what does unconscious mean?" She asked, you laughed, forgetting that she doesn't know the meaning of certain words yet..

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @callsignsnowpunisher @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee @konigceo @duck-a-doodle @darkhorrorwhispers @cyphah @ash-tarte @linaangel @waves-against-a-cliff @fruitymoonbeams-blog @venussdovess @mactavishsgfandwife @thisisaphrodite @holyfeck @avalkyrieofparis @mymelx @ssc7514 @lilaclazer @fandomwarrior98 @spontaneousleo

[princessbrunette]

drunk calling ex!jj because you’re so horny and your fingers aren’t as good as his :((

(:̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:🎀:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

can’t even get your words out, just giggling n rolling around on your bed after taking off your dress, just having been dropped home after one too many drinks with the girls. you’ve got your phone pressed to your ear, your ex on the line.

“are you drunk?” you can tell he’s fidgeting with something, tonguing at the corner of his lip like he always did.

“mm… mhm… thought ‘bout you all night… really worked myself up jayj, n’it’s just been so hard without you makin’—” you interrupt yourself with a hiccup. “makin’ my pussy feel better when it gets’all achey like this.” you whine and he sits up in his seat, realising the nature of the call.

“oh well, uh— i’m flattered. nice to know you’re… thinkin’ of me n’stuff.”

“can you just… can you just talk me through it like you used to? j’st need somethin’ jayj.” you sniffle, already messily rubbing at your clit through your panties to start yourself off. you whimper at the feeling and he wets his lips, adjusting himself in his pants much to his dismay.

“y’know what. told you i’d still be here to help you with anything n’i guess that really means anything.” he sighs, yanking his hat off his head and putting you on speaker in the privacy of his room. “what you wearin’ babydoll? gotta paint the picture for papa, yeah?”

(:̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:🎀:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)