#i kinda wanted to work on this a little longer but-

[purinfelix]

you're no good for me, but baby i want you - n. riki ✶⋆.˚

summary: after growing tired of his constant teasing you made up your mind not to give Niki anymore of your attention, but you should've known that he wouldn't let you go that easily - and is willing to go to desperate measures to get you just to look at him ──── delinquent Niki x class president reader || sfw but a little suggestive, kissing/making out, so much tension like so much, enemies to lovers sorta? || w/c: 2.7k

a/n: okay i'm trying to get better at writing longer fics/ones that actually have closure bc looking back i realise i kinda always leave u guys on cliffhangers LOLL - also i rlly tried to avoid making this too cliche given the trope i hope it worked !!! actually really like this one so i hope it doesn't flop rip

‘Bad boy’ felt too cliche - at least for your liking. You preferred to refer to Niki as what he was, a delinquent, a troublemaker, someone who skipped most of his classes and spent the rest dosing off or arguing with the teacher. But no matter what you called him you were sure of one thing, he pissed you off.

To be honest, you had absolutely no interest in the sorts of things a student like him got up to in his own time, but it was the fact that he insisted on dragging you into his business that irritated you the most. You weren’t sure why exactly he kept targeting you, maybe it was because he just wanted to mess with the class president or because you seemed like an easy target to him - whatever reason he had didn’t make it any less tiring though.

Skipping classes was one thing, but his constant breaches of uniform code meant that you were running out of warning slips - and patience. It didn’t help that whenever you did, he would only look you up and down with an amused smirk, brows raised as if daring you to continue telling him off - which only worked to make you stumble over your words.

That’s why you had made the decision to stop giving him anymore of your attention, and the most recent time you had seen him sporting his signature look - no blazer, dress shirt half unbuttoned and several silver earrings, you chose to ignore him. You simply walked past him in the hallway without so much as a passing glance, hoping it would tell him to stop wasting your time and causing trouble.

Little did you know, he would misinterpret your signs to mean the exact opposite.

The next morning when you were waiting at your desk you heard a wave of hushed murmurs coming from down the hall, and couldn’t help but feel partly responsible. A loud thud sent the classroom door flying open and a couple of his friends filed in with amused grins - and it was only when Niki followed them in did you see why. Not only had he gone and messily bleached parts of his jet black hair, but he now donned a piercing straight through his right eyebrow which, judging from the pink tinge surrounding it, was both brand new and self-made.

You were unable to stop your neck from craning as your eyes followed his figure, watching as he sauntered over to his desk in the back corner of the classroom, threw his books onto it and sat down. The expression on his face showed that he couldn’t care less about being there, but his eyes trained on you as if waiting for you to make a move.

You hated that he knew you so well, because before you knew it you were out of your seat and at the head of his desk, arms folded with a stern expression on your face. You can’t remember exactly what you said but it must’ve been harsh, and loud enough to summon the attention of almost the entire class, and your teacher who stormed into the classroom shortly after to tell the two of you off. It must’ve also been harsh enough to earn the two of you an after-school detention, which was your very first - though it clearly wasn’t Niki’s.

So that’s how the two of you had ended up alone, in an empty, hot classroom - waiting as the minutes of your detention ticked by agonisingly slowly. Irritated was an understatement. It was taking every ounce of self-control you had not to turn around and punch Niki right there and then. You kept your fuming to yourself, at least for now though, while you worked silently on an assignment, determined to at least make good use of being stuck here for the next hour or so - even if it meant spending it in a tense silence.

Niki didn’t seem to share the same sentiment, having sat himself in the chair right beside yours and kicked his feet up on the desk, twirling a pen in one hand as he hummed softly to himself. You were trying your best to ignore him, and he was trying his best to make that very difficult.

“What are you working on?” he asked curiously as he leaned in over your shoulder.

“Just an assignment,” you shot back curtly.

“Ah of course, what a goody-two shoes,” he scoffed as he sat back.

“Rather a goody-two shoes than a good-for-nothing delinquent,” you mumbled under your breath, though not quiet enough to escape his ears.

“A delinquent? Is that really what you think of me?” he asked in faux-offence, “I’m hurt.” You turned slightly, just enough to see the dramatic pout he had formed across his lips, his brows curving upwards and his piercing going with it.

“Whatever,” you huff, feeling both irritation and exhaustion rise in you, “it’s your fault we’re here in the first place anyways.”

“Oh yeah, my fault that you started a petty argument.”

“Your fault for dyeing your hair that stupid colour and getting that piece of metal jammed in your face!” You cry out, fully facing him now as you felt your face burning hot, “I mean seriously, all I did was ignore you once, and you go ahead and did something ridiculous like that?” Gesturing to his piercing and new hair, you can’t help but feel even more infuriated at the sight of his smirk which only grew as he watched you from half-lidded eyes.

“What makes you think I did it for you?” He asks teasingly, and you suddenly feel your bravado begin to crumble - he’s right, who are you to assume that?

“Well, I-” you stutter, but he interrupts you.

“Well maybe I did,” he laughs softly, “that depends on whether you like it or not.”

“That is so besides the point, Niki,” you whine, “it’s against uniform policy.”

“Oh c’mon, you think it’s a little cool,” he taunts, and you turn back around in your seat, chewing your bottom lip as you’re determined not to give him a response which you’re sure will only fuel his ego.

You sit in silence for a bit, and you can tell he’s watching you carefully in the way he leans in, keen eyes trained on your expression - almost as if he’s trying to figure out what you’re thinking. But that’s a challenge even you’re struggling with right now.

He’s the one to break the silence again. “I am sorry about getting you a detention though, that wasn’t what I meant to do.” You blink in disbelief because for the very first time, he sounds almost as if he really means what he’s saying.

“Is that an apology?” you say, gasping to show your surprise, though this quickly dissolved into a soft laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t let it get to your head,” he sighs, “I just couldn’t sit here and watch you sulk for the next hour.”

You can’t help but smile to yourself, feeling the tension between the two of you melt away at his apology, just enough for you to want to keep talking to him - even if it means neglecting your homework, for now. Your eyes move over his face, his sharp jaw, his eyebrow piercing glinting under the warm classroom light.

“Did it hurt?”

It’s a stupid question, you know, but it’s the only thing you can think to ask as you fiddle nervously in your seat. If you’re being completely honest, you do think it’s cool, you’ve always thought his piercing were cool - and right now you want nothing more than to reach out and feel them for yourself. But your common sense stops you.

“Well, duh,” he scoffs, sitting back in his seat as his eyes fix on yours, “figured a smart-ass like you would’ve been able to guess that.”

“Just asking,” you grumble defensively, though your curiosity urges you to keep talking. “If it hurt, why’d you do it?”

“Well, you like it, don’t you?” He asks, “that’s all the reason I need.”

You’re tempted to tell him off again, but something about his tone catches you off guard - it’s oddly earnest, and he says it with such a simplicity that makes you really believe that maybe he’s telling the truth and you’re unable to find the resolve to spoil this moment

“Can I feel it?”

He’s almost as shocked by your request as you are, and even as it leaves your mouth you’re unsure entirely why you’re asking it. His eyes widen in a way that you can’t help but find a little cute, even as you’re struggling to process your own thoughts.

“Sure,” he replies, a little too quickly, almost as if he had been waiting for you to ask him that, but can’t believe you actually did. You turn in your chair to face him, your arms coming up awkwardly to bridge the distance between you both but it’s clear you’re still too far.

You’re about to lean forward more in your seat to reach him, until you notice his hand coming down to grip the leg of your chair and it isn’t until you feel yourself moving and hear the faint screech of the legs against the floor that you realise that he’s pulling it - pulling you closer to him.

Once you’re close enough he stops, though his hand doesn’t leave the back of your chair, instead resting there as if trapping you in with him as he leans down as that his face is level with yours. You try not to overthink the way your knees are touching, or how this is your first time seeing him this close and how he’s even better looking up close. Carefully, you bring your hand and pray that he doesn’t notice the way it trembles, as your thumb grazes his thick brow gently. Even though you wish he didn’t, he keeps his eyes open and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you as your fingers close around the small metal ball.

“It’s cold,” you mumble, not sure what else to say to fill the air between you two.

“It’s metal,” he says matter-of-factly, letting out a small laugh at your fascination with it.

“You didn’t need to to do this just to get my attention, you know,” your eyes focus on the piercing as you speak, unable to look him in the eyes when admitting something that feels like a confession.

“I had to get you to look at me somehow.” You’re again amazed at how he can say such earnest things with such a serious face, and even as you look away you know his eyes are on you.

“Most people would’ve just said hi or something, not put a brand new hole in their face,” you sigh, fingers moving to tuck a stray strand of bleached hair behind his ear.

“Well most people wouldn’t be here now with you touching their face, so by my standards my plan worked better.”

“Did that plan have to include getting me my first-ever detention?” You ask in annoyance, though you can’t help but laugh softly at his simplicity.

“Well, not at first,” he admits, “but at least we’re alone, hm?”

“Because you need me alone to talk to me?”

“No, because I need you alone to do this.”

You’re pretty sure if you weren’t already leaning towards him you would’ve fallen backwards from the forceful way his lips crash into yours - and if not from that then the sheer shock of just that. Luckily for you though, he already has an arm snaked around your waist, keeping a hold of you and pulling you closer.

It shocks you though that, despite the initial force, Niki’s kiss is gentle, almost as if he’s easing you into something he knows you’re struggling to accept. He’s experienced, that’s for sure, but you can tell in his movements that he’s holding back from pushing you any further.

You don’t even realise it but your hands are cupping his face, caressing his strong jawline and pulling him closer to you. You open your mouth to talk but the only noise that comes out is a breathy gasp and if you weren’t so caught up in the feeling of his hands in your hair you might’ve stopped to feel embarrassed about how desperate you sound for him right now.

“Niki,” you mumble against his lips, unsure of what to do as you feel your mind struggle to comprehend what’s happening.

“Want me to stop?” he says in between heavy breaths, and even though it sounds like a taunt you know him well enough to know he’s being serious.

You shake your head in response, but decide to have a little fun of your own while you can. “When have you ever cared what I think?”

“Oh, you have no clue,” he hums in a low whisper as he leans back in.

“And when have you ever listened to what I’ve told you to do?”

“You’re right about that,” he smirks, pressing his lips to yours again, this time with the reckless abandon you’ve come to expect from him - almost as if he was waiting for your permission to let go. You thought you would’ve felt a little predictable, pathetic even, for having fallen so easily into his trap and giving him much more than just your attention at this point. But from the way his hands roam your body, grasping for more of you as he whines against your lips you smile to yourself at the realisation that really, he’s the one who’s fallen into your trap.

This sense of control is what finally calms your mind, even if it still struggles with just how ‘wrong’ all of this sounds against how right his lips on yours feel. The sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway however forces you to tear yourself away from him, though his hands don’t leave your body as you strain to figure out who it might be.

“Shit, it’s the teacher,” you say under your breath, pulling away from him to smooth down your skirt. Niki clearly doesn’t care, but still lets out a soft sigh as he hangs his head, leaning back in his chair.

“Tomorrow,” you continue suddenly, “I want the eyebrow piercing and the bleached hair gone.” You know you’re being harsh, but you also know that, given what just happened, you can’t afford to be nice.

“Wh-” he says suddenly, looking at you in disbelief, “I thought you liked them though.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say firmly, “they’re still breaking like ten different uniform rules.”

“Just when I thought I’d finally broken your guard down,” he groans.

“Well, they’ve served their purpose already, haven’t they?” you taunt lightly, bringing a hand up to swipe at your bottom lip which you can feel is a little plump from him biting it. His eyes watch attentively as you do, and he lets out a soft laugh followed by a nod in agreement.

“You’re right,” he exhales, “but now I’m thinking if I keep them in I might keep getting lucky.”

“Niki,” you sigh.

“I mean, maybe if I had a reward for following rules I might feel more motivated,” he hums, looking away as he feigns innocence.

You pause, thinking to yourself for just long enough. “I’ll be studying in the library after school, maybe if you do as I say I’ll let you join me.”

“Studying? That’s what we’re calling it now?”

“Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll be there,” he laughs, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile - one that you can’t help but share even as the same teacher who gave you both this detention comes in to tell you you’re free to go.

You watch as he swings his bag over one shoulder coolly, tossing you his signature smirk - only this time, it doesn’t just annoy you, it lingers, sticking to your thoughts in a way you don’t want to admit. Because you know you should be mad, you should roll your eyes and remind yourself that he’s still the same infuriating troublemaker. But as he walks away the only thing you find yourself wondering is if he’ll actually show up tomorrow, and worse, if a part of you wants him to.

[rosemariiaa]

~Obsessed~

𐙚— pairing: Paige x Azzi

𐙚— rosie’s note: hi hi there! this is one is a little short only because i was struggling with the other fic that was supposed to be posted tonight :( , so spare me i’ll work on that and drop it asap so no worries! but enjoy p being obsessed (per usual), happy reading lovelies 💌

𐙚—link: rosie’s bookshelf

𐙚— themes: fluff, obsession (kinda)

𐙚— taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @sierrale8ne @imaginespazzi @pbaz7 @bueckersbitch @ldapper @makethemhoesmad

Obsession gets a bad reputation.

People throw the word around like it’s some kind of sickness, like it’s something to be ashamed of. They make it sound desperate, unhealthy, like the person on the other end of it has no control over themselves. Like caring too much, or noticing too much, or wanting too much makes you weak.

People might see obsession as an expression of imbalance or weakness, as though the person experiencing it has lost their sense of self or become consumed in a way that’s unhealthy. It can be painted as a lack of boundaries, as if the person is so fixated that they can no longer think clearly or act rationally.

But I don’t see it that way.

Obsession doesn’t always have to be negative.

The truth is, the line between obsession and love or passion is often blurry. It’s about how you channel it, how you manage it. When you can let yourself feel deeply without losing yourself in it, obsession doesn’t need to be something to be ashamed of. Sometimes, it’s exactly that level of investment that makes things meaningful.

Being obsessed means you see the details—the things no one else notices. It means you care enough to memorize the way someone bites their lip when they’re thinking or the way their laugh changes depending on whether they actually find something funny or if they’re just being polite.

And when it comes to Azzi, yeah, maybe I’m obsessed.

Actually, not maybe. I am.

And I don’t care. I take pride in it.

I take pride in the fact that I can pick her voice out of a crowd before I even see her. That I know the difference between her real smile and the one she gives when she’s just trying to be nice. That I know she has a playlist for every mood, even though she always pretends she’s too busy to mess with that kind of stuff.

There’s something satisfying about knowing her like that—like I’m in on some big secret that no one else has figured out yet.

Take last week, for example. We were sitting on her couch after practice, both exhausted, the TV playing some rom com movie neither of us was paying attention to. Azzi was scrolling through her phone, her face soft in the glow of the screen. I wasn’t even watching the movie anymore. I was watching her. I always do.

The way her brow furrowed a little as she read something. The way she tucked her legs under herself like she was trying to make herself smaller, even though she already takes up so little space. The way she absentmindedly played with the drawstring of her hoodie, a tiny detail that no one else would’ve even noticed.

I couldn’t help it. I had to say something.

“What’re you thinking about?” I asked, my voice cutting through the quiet.

Azzi glanced up at me, her expression unreadable for a moment before she shrugged. “Nothing important.”

But I could tell by the way she said it that it was important—at least to her.

And that’s the thing. I don’t think anyone else would’ve caught that. No one else would’ve seen the way her lips twitched like she was holding back a smile or the way her eyes softened like she was glad someone had asked.

I don’t mind being obsessed with her because it means I get to see her like this. In moments when she’s not “Azzi the stud” or “Azzi the calm and collected one.” When she’s just… Azzi.

And yeah, I’ll admit it: I look at her like she’s the only person in the room. But can you blame me?

She has this way of pulling me in without even trying. Like everything else fades, and it’s just her—her laugh, her smile, the way her curls frame her face by themselves when she’s not paying attention.

If that makes me obsessed, then fine. I’ll own it.

Because I don’t think obsession is a bad thing. Not when it means loving someone like this. Not when it means knowing someone in a way that no one else does.

Not when it’s her.

[lipglossanon]

Until the End

Real son!Leon S. Kennedy x real mom!reader (one shot)

Warnings: incest, dead dove, mom/son, simp Leon, cnc (reader’s “not” into it at first 😉), kissing, dirty talk, teasing, oral (f receiving), just the tip 😩, unprotected sex, creampie, mommy kink to the extreme

not proofread ✍️ it’s been a while since I’ve worked on anything so hopefully this doesn’t suck lmao the ending is just kinda meh

shoutout to the discord; I posted some of this WIP and they gave me the inspo to finish 🤭

title from the Breaking Benjamin song

It’s a quiet affair when you sign the divorce papers. Your husband—of twenty four years—deciding that he’d rather live overseas with his secretary instead of sticking it out; it’s not something you would have foreseen, but as they say hindsight’s always 20/20. It upset you at first but once the indignation died down, you realize you feel more relief than anything. Things have been strained for years and then in the last five, he’s barely been home long enough to chat about your days. 

The one who took it the hardest out of anyone is Leon. Your husband offered him a place to stay, but he chose to live with you (being a mama’s boy through and through). After his father left, Leon angrily refused to speak with him anymore and instead focused on his work and trying to pick up any slack around the house. Not that you hadn’t already been doing that for years, but it’s sweet of him to want to take care of you. 

He dotes on you now, making sure you’re eating and drinking and taking care of yourself. His friends tease him about it or rib him about having a milf (which you had the unfortunate chance to overhear as you walked into the living room). Meeting Leon’s mortified gaze, you smile tightly and walk through to the kitchen. He kicks them out and apologizes profusely to you, face buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin as he murmurs how sorry he is and promises it won’t happen again. 

Things go back to normal for a while. The absence of your husband is something you don’t even notice anymore. Leon is more than capable of moving out and living on his own, but he says it’s closer to work and easier to keep an eye on you if he lives at home. Besides, he told you with a serious face, he doesn’t have a girlfriend to make things awkward so for now you just need to chill out and let him take care of things. 

He gets a promotion at work, no longer relegated to being just a traffic cop, and you couldn’t be more proud! Your offer to take him out to a nice dinner gets turned down; in its place is an evening of take out and drinking. Since it’s the weekend, neither of you are worried about being hungover the next day, so you both end up drinking more than you usually would. 

Later, Leon walks with you from the dining room to the living room, each of you laughing at some silly joke that you can’t even remember. 

Settling together on the couch, he tucks into your side, face nuzzling against your neck like he used to do as a little boy. You giggle and run your hand through his hair. 

“You’re so sweet, Leon,” you murmur, “but aren’t you a little too old to be cuddling your mom?”

“Uh uh,” he whines, making you laugh harder, “always need you, mama.”

“Okay, okay,” you pat his head, slumping further into the couch, the alcohol buzzing through your veins, “my little boy’s all grown up.”

Feeling maudlin now at remembering that the passage of time waits for no one, you sniffle and it draws Leon’s attention.  

“What’s a’matter?” He mumbles, hazy blue eyes sharpening to see your tears, “mom?”

You smile and cup his cheek. Neither of you have shied away from physical affection; however, you remember on more than one occasion you thought Leon went overboard with cuddling and snuggling with you. Now that seems like a silly thought, he just missed you during his long hours on duty. 

“Nothing, just so proud of you,” you smile, dropping your hand to rub his shoulder. 

He kisses your cheek and you coo softly. Moving closer, he lands another soft kiss to the corner of your lips. Blaming it on the alcohol, a warm thrum of heat sings through your stomach. 

“Mama,” he whimpers, lips clumsily landing on yours. 

You freeze, body heavy and thoughts slow. Leon presses his mouth more firmly against yours and you gasp, lips parting under his and he eagerly kisses you harder. Whining, you try to tug your head away but he follows you, kisses becoming rougher while pressing you deeper against the couch. 

Your hands come up and tangle in his hair, but instead of pulling him back they scrape against his scalp, making him groan deliciously. He shifts, pulling away to tilt his head at a better angle before pressing another hot kiss against your lips. You sink into it, clit pulsing in arousal, mouth tingling from each sloppy kiss from your son.

Finally, you twist away, panting heavily while Leon rests his forehead against your jaw. 

“Mama, why’d you stop?” He presses a soft kiss under your ear, making you shiver.

“Leon, this—this isn’t right,” you plead, eyelashes fluttering as he nips and sucks your neck.

“Just this once,” he murmurs, lips dragging against your skin and sending chills down your body. “Let me show you how much I appreciate you, mommy.”

His words and actions are muddling your mind… and you’ve been lonely for so long. Swallowing, you breath out a shaky breath, mind made up.

“O-okay,” your body feels hot, muttering that out loud.

Moaning, he bites your jaw then kisses your cheek. “Thank you.”

He shows his appreciation by kissing the breath from your lungs; your son’s excitement ramps up your own, cunt pulsing with need as slick fills your panties. Wet, drugging kisses pass between you until you completely lose yourself to the feeling, making out with Leon until your lips are swollen. 

You jump, feeling his fingers trail along your thigh, slipping under your skirt and brushing against your panties.

“God, you’re so wet. Wanna bury my face in your pussy.”

You moan, and he teases your cunt through the soppy fabric.

“You can’t,” your hips grind down into his hand.

“Okay, promise I’ll behave,” he chuckles.

Without another word, he flips your skirt up and slips your panties down your legs to bunch at your ankles.

“Oh mommy,” he moans, fingers tracing your slit up and down before circling your clit, “your pussy’s so soft. Fuck me.”

Your hips buck and he bites his bottom lip, fingers rubbing up and down your pussy lips. 

“So, so soft,” he whispers, eyes glued to where his fingers are touching, “my stubble’s gonna feel so rough when I kiss her, mama.”

You whine high and reedy but shake your head, “No, no, this is all I’m allowing, Leon. You promised.”

“Just a kiss or two,” he murmurs, voice low and smoky, “she needs it, look how soft and sweet she is, just begging for my mouth. C’mon, mama, just let me have a couple of kisses.”

Your resolve cracks at his pleading. 

“Just a couple, then we stop,” you try to sound firm but your voice comes out breathier than you’d like. 

“Mmhmm, thank you, mama,” he kisses the side of your cheek then the corner of your lips.

You feel a little disappointed that he stops to kneel between your legs. He brings his hands up to spread apart your cunt, slick dripping from your hole as his mouth hovers over your mound. 

“Oh fuck, mom,” Leon whines, tongue lapping at your clit, “so fucking wet. Am I making you this wet? God, your pussy’s so fucking sexy.”

Another groan and he’s fluttering his tongue across your pudgy bud before sucking it gently into his mouth. He pulls back and kisses the hood of your clit. You moan softly and cant your hips up. 

“W-we shouldn’t, baby,” you plead, fingers tangling in his hair again, but not pushing him away. 

“Been wanting to do this forever, dreaming about how I wanna lick your pretty pussy til you cream all over my face,” he pants, dilated eyes watching your face, “gonna make you cum over and over tonight.”

“Fuck,” you gasp as he thrusts his tongue into your pussy, walls clamping around the slippery muscle, “Leon! 

He hums and grinds his nose against your clit as his tongue fucks in and out of your hole, spit dripping down your ass onto the couch cushions. Your eyes flutter as your orgasm winds tight in your abdomen. 

“Need to eat you out everyday, mama,” he pulls back, slick shining across his lips and chin, “treat this pussy like she deserves. Don’t you wanna feel good?”

He sucks your clit back into his mouth, hot tongue flicking against the sensitive bud. It only takes a few more teasing licks before your climax breaks over your body like a tidal wave. Toes curling, your hands tug on his hair making him moan, tonguing at your fluttering cunt until he finally pulls away with one last sucking kiss. 

He crowds you on the couch, thick forearms hooking under your knees to keep you spread open. He nods down to his jeans; your eyes flit from his face to the bulge pressing obscenely against his zipper. 

“Pull it out,” he murmurs, blue eyes nearly black. “Take my cock out so I can stuff your cunt, mommy.”

Shaking your head, your voice cracks, “No, baby. That’s going too far.”

He whines, “But it hurts, mama. You’re being so mean. At least jerk me off.”

Biting your lip, his pouty mouth has you reaching forward, undoing his pants and tugging them down his thighs. You gently ease his dick from his briefs, uncut head sticky with precum. You both moan when you grip his stiff cock, the blood hot skin against your palm turning you on more than you ever thought. Thumb pressing against the slit, you smear the pearlescent sheen across his tip until he’s whimpering. 

“Mommy,” his hips thrust forward, “it’s sensitive.” 

He sags forward, and your legs slide up his arms until your calves press against his biceps. This new position has his dick grinding against your swollen cunt, the head grazing across your pudgy clit. Your fingers loosely circle the base of his cock, the backs of your knuckles brushing against his balls. 

“So good, fuck,” he chokes out, humping your pussy. “Just let me cum like this, let me mark you up, mama. Yeah, just coat this sexy fucking pussy with my cum.”

Keening, you let go of his cock to feather your fingers against his heavy balls. “You can, you can cum all over me.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” he chants, pink lips parted and eyebrows furrowed as he watches his cock slip between your pussy lips to rub against your hole. “Mommy, just let me put the tip in, please? Promise it’ll just be the tip. Please.”

You know you should say no, but then again you should’ve put a stop to this before it even started. Just the tip wouldn’t be so bad, you think, eyes greedily taking in his fat, drippy tip. It wouldn’t hurt to let him try it out.

“Just the tip, Leon,” you murmur, flicking up to meet his blown out gaze. “But only this once.”

“Thank you,” he groans, “love you so much, mama.”

Moving one hand from his hold on your leg, he grips his cock and guides the head to your clenching hole. His thumb presses down on the head as he rocks forward, slipping the tip into your wet cunt. You suck in a deep breath at the same time he grunts. The other hand gripping your thigh tightens, fingertips tightly digging into the soft skin. 

Leon blows out a breath, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. “You feel so good.”

He ruts the head of his cock in and out of your pussy, the wet schlick loud in the otherwise quiet living room. Your hands move over your head to drape over the back of the couch, fingers grasping at the cushions. 

“Can I—,” he cuts himself off, eyes squeezing shut. “Can I go a little deeper, mommy?”

Your slick hole clenches down on him and he whimpers. 

“H-how much deeper?” You hear yourself say, mouth running away from you. 

“Just an inch or two,” he gasps, feeling overwhelmed by the heat of your cunt. “Pretty please, mommy.”

You nod, eyes unable to look away from where he’s splitting you open, dick driving deeper and deeper—going so much farther than a few inches—into your pussy until he’s completely buried in your pulsing walls. 

“Leon!” You cry out, head falling back as your cunt stretches around the fat girth of his cock.

“Sorry, mama,” he practically slurs, pussy drunk already. “Didn’t mean to, it just slipped.”

You whimper at the pleasure pain of his tip kissing your cervix as he grinds himself against your cunt. Clit rubbing against his pelvis makes you squeeze and clench around his dick, in turn making him groan from deep in his chest. He barely pulls out before fucking back into your sopping wet hole. 

“So perfect,” his face pinches in pleasure. “God, mom, your pussy—gonna make me cum so fast.”

You dig your hands into the couch and roll your hips down into his thrusts, “You need to pull out, baby. It’s bad to cum inside. You’ve gotta pull out of mommy’s cunt.”

He makes a broken sound from the back of his throat and drives his cock into you with harsh, pounding thrusts. 

“No, I’m gonna cum in you, make you nice and full,” he bites out, sweat dripping from the straight line of his nose onto you. “Stuff you so full, mama.”

You can’t hide how his words make your pussy clamp down on his cock, his own hips stuttering as your cunt tries to milk his cock. 

“Yeah, mommy, squeezing me so good, so fucking good,” he pants. “Fuck, ‘m gonna cum.”

He reaches down, hot palm a brand across your mound as his thumb teases your clit. You thrash against him, but it’s no use as he strums your swollen bud in rough little circles that makes your thighs tremble. 

“Leon,” you moan, a second orgasm quickly building in your core. “Oh god, I’m so close.”

He doesn’t stop the frantic pumping of his hips, fucking his cock into your squelching heat while he rubs your clit—his blue eyes jumping between your face and your pussy. Mouth dropping open, he groans, mumbling praises and promises under his breath. Pinching your clit between the knuckles of his first and middle finger, he gives pulsing squeezes to the sensitive bundle of nerves until you’re cumming loudly. 

Your back bows, fireworks going off in your brain, dimly realizing that Leon’s gripping your hips as he wildly fucks your cunt. 

“Fuck, fuck, mom,” he chokes on the word, burying himself balls deep in your soft, wet walls and spilling his thick cum as deep as possible. 

You whimper, squeezing down on him as the hot splash of his spend fills your cunt. He eventually stills, hips still snugly pressed against you as close as possible. Slick and jizz begin to slowly leak out from around his softening cock. He hisses when he pulls out, then immediately whimpers, fingers playing with his cum dripping from your hole.

“Leon, stop, it’s sensitive,” you gasp, eyes slipping closed when his fingers slide up to rub across your fat clit. 

“Sorry, mama,” he pulls back only to drop to his knees, eyes dark, mouth hovering tantalizingly close to your sloppy cunt. “Let me kiss it better.”

[cyberhughes]

Could I please get a rum & coke? #17 with Connor Bedard

cyberhughes 200 follower special ⋆ .˚

rum & coke coming up!!

prompt #17: "i can't get you out of my head."

warnings: breakups, angst angst angst

fuck sorry this one kinda hurt i think im projecting w this one guys LOL (god help me.)

prompt list

connor bedard was the love of your life.

was.

officially, you had been with him for two years, but you knew him longer than that. the two of you sharing a bond stronger than anything throughout your childhood.

it had been one year since the end of said relationship, one year since he had left you crying in front of your apartment as he walked away with your heart, and one year since you had lost your best friend and lover in one fell swoop, your twin flame.

you grieved like never before. it was almost worse than grieving someone who was dead, because he was still out there, keeping your heart captive.

you couldn't even remember what the first few weeks after the breakup were like. you had locked yourself away in your apartment, letting your entire being be consumed by sorrow.

it truly came out of nowhere, the two of you were happy. or at least, you thought you were.

"connor, what are you talking about?" your smile faltered as he stood in front of you, hands in his pockets while he stared at you with that emotionless expression he always had. "it's just not working." his words rang in your ears and you could feel the reality settle in.

your lips moved to speak but shut just as quickly. you didn't know what to say, how could you? the two of you just worked, he was your soulmate and you were his. he had seen every part of you, felt every part of you, taken every part of you. you gave him your everything,

so what the hell wasn't working?

that's the question that you had destroyed yourself over for the past year. when connor left you, he had taken a piece of your soul with him, and you weren't sure if you'd ever get it back. and so, you'd spend the rest of your life yearning for that piece, yearning for him.

while you were together he was always on your mind of course, but now it felt as if he had taken over you, your thoughts consumed by nothing more than him. you could only think of the sound of his comforting voice, which was now starting to fade away. you could only think of the way his smile could make your heart melt in an instant. you could only think of the way his lips molded to yours as he kissed you. it was like he had left a poison in you when he left, ensuring that he would be the only one you'd ever love.

it wasn't healthy, is what your friends told you. it wasn't healthy to still be hung up on your ex boyfriend after a whole year. but he was more than that, he was your partner, in every sense of the word. you had gone through everything with him, been there for him when no one else was.

now the only thing you were going through was his instagram, scrolling the feed that had already been graced by that little red heart. he was doing good, better than good. maybe you were holding him back, not allowing him to shine as bright as he could. that's all you ever wanted for him, so why couldn't you accept this?

you found yourself going through old photos and texts, not having deleted his number even after a year. soon you found your thumb hovering over his name in your contacts, your mind daring you to call him.

and so you did.

it rang once.

then it rang twice.

and just as it was about to ring that third time, as you were about to hang up knowing he'd never respond, you heard his voice.

"hello?" he spoke softly and you felt your whole body tense as you heard the voice that you once sought out for comfort. sure, you had put yourself in this situation, but you didn't think he would actually pick up.

your breath was shaky as you spoke, "i can't..." your voice cracked, and you were glad he couldn't see you in this pathetic state.

"y/n?"

"i can't get you out of my head." your voice was barely above a whisper, yet he caught every single word.

"it's been a year." he spoke sternly, as if you didn't recognize that, and suddenly it felt like you were being transported right back to that night where he had first broken your heart.

your eyes welled with tears as you heard him sigh over the phone, did he not miss you the way you missed him?

"why did you end it?" you asked, feeling your heartrate increase, you shouldn't have called him like this.

"y/n why are you-"

"tell me." you pleaded as the tears fell down onto your cheeks. a lifetime ago he would've been the one to wipe them away, telling you he'd never let anything hurt you, but he ended up being the one to.

the other end went silent for a moment before he spoke, "i didn't love you anymore."

you felt your heart drop deeper than it ever had, never expecting him to answer in such a way. "why? did i do something wrong?" you didn't know why you bothered asking, he didn't give you a reason then, and he probably wouldn't now.

"i had more important things to focus on." he rubbed salt in the wound, as if you were never important to him. as if you weren't the first name he'd call for whenever something happened to him, as if you weren't the one to carry his weight when he felt like he couldn't continue, as if you weren't the one who kept the flame of his soul alight. he didn't care as much as you did, he never did.

and so you hung up.

call ended.

connor looked down at his phone, "fuck." his lip quivered as he tried to hold it together.

you were always the most important thing to him, and that's why he had to let you go. he didn't want to tie you down, a ball and chain keeping you from pursuing your own dreams as you followed him around the nhl.

he knew you'd be alright eventually, and he knew that you’d find someone who could give you all their love in ways he couldn’t. after all he knew you better than you knew yourself.

and that's why he selfishly kept a piece of your heart, because he never truly wanted to let you go.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

It is Axl roses birthday today and i request a fic celebrating that

A/n: I know I'm a day late but I had shit man😔 not like anyone asked for anything on STEVENS BIRTHDAY

Kinda glad I waited though because this is a much better idea

Warnings: Angst, reader just kinda cries a lot but Axl ends up comforting her and taking her upstairs to his room, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

This pic has me giggling. Fair god mother ass pose

Axl wasn't always around to keep an eye on his house, so he hired you. You were young and needed a way to pay for university, it was a good paying job, close to the school and Axl gave you a room year round for company mostly.

When he was home he helped you, mostly with cleaning and moving furniture around but he did his best in the kitchen.

Despite what your family and friends thought he was really sweet to you, always doing what he could to help, even with your studies; he had no idea what you were doing and got stuck every time he looked at your work, but he made trips to the store and got you snacks, he'd stay up late with you.

For your birthday last year he gave you a car, he usually just leant you his, sometimes he'd drive you himself or he'd pay for a cab. It's not that he minded doing any of that, he just knew how you felt about it.

You felt like a burden, he was really just the sweet man that took care of you and felt terrible every time you asked for the smallest thing. Axl had no one, he had friends, obviously, but he had no family. All he wanted was this big, happy family, and he never got it. He would do anything to spend more time with the few people he liked, especially you.

Since he had done so much for you you wanted to do one thing for him, so you planned and you cooked, you ordered a Queen cake that was really meant for a kids birthday but it was just for the two of you, it was the thought that counts.

When planning for things you had to keep it a surprise, so you told him you were studying for finals. It worked perfect, he never asked about anything, although he did buy a concerning amount of energy drinks.

It all came crashing down on his birthday. You'd spent so much time planning out your idea for his birthday you hadn't taken into account that he would make plans for his birthday.

Worst case scenario was that he would invite more people over, which you initially thought that morning of, but then you found him nowhere in the house as you scrambled around to set things up.

Finally, you checked your phone to find a text from him. "Decided to give you some time to yourself for your studying, be back later, don't worry about food." He sent a little heart and winky face emoji. All your work, the time and effort to get food and preparations together. For nothing. You were ruined.

You shot him a quick text, as tears filled your eyes, asking when he'd be home. He said around 10:00 pm, it was late but it gave you a chance to at least try and do something.

You cried for the first few hours, really. It was hard, he got you everything you ever wanted, and you couldn't do this one thing for him. You had to try, so you decorated the dining room, setting up the small table where you two ate together.

You wrapped your present for him and set it on his seat, just before the clock hit 10:00 you got the cake out and brought it to the table, a lighter at the ready for when he came home.

Five minutes and he hadn't shown up, he was just saying his goodbyes and it had kept him.

Fifteen minutes late, he couldn't end his stories, just a little bit longer.

When half an hour had passed and he hadn't come back you decided to text him, asking if his dinner was almost done. Ten minutes passed before he texted back that he'd bring you back leftovers, no indication of how much longer he'd be.

After forty-five minutes you put the cake back in the fridge, wiping your tears from your eyes and sitting back at the table. You couldn't bring yourself to go back to bed, you brought your feet onto the chair and hugged yourself, resting your chin on your knees as tears rolled down your cheeks.

It didn't take long for your crying to get worse, your body trembling and sobs choked out of you.

It was around 12:00 when you finally heard a car pull into the garage. You did your best to wipe away your tears but you could only do so much. Your makeup was ruined, eyes red and puffy, lip quivering.

Axl came in, finding the house dark. He planned to be quiet and just head right up to bed, doing his best to not disturb you, however, the dining room was right by the stairs so he saw the light on, and the streamers and balloons, everything you set up for his birthday.

Most importantly, he saw you sitting alone at the table, having clearly been crying.

His brows furrowed and he rushed over to you, taking the seat next to you and cupping your face in his hands. "Sweetheart, what happened?" He asked, voice deep and soothing as he looked over you with great worry.

You sniffled, wiping your eyes a final time before speaking. "I-I got everything ready and you-you weren't even here..." You mumbled.

Axl's worry shifted to confusion. "You got everything ready?" He asked. "What did you get ready?" He could take a guess from the decorations but he still asked the question.

"For your birthday!" You said, looking up at him, a desperation in your eyes. "I got a-a cake and decorations, I got it all together, and you-you weren't even here." You knew it wasn't his fault, he didn't know a thing about all this, but you were tired and hurt.

Axl pressed his lips together, eyes flickering over your face. "You really did all that? For me?" You nodded, letting him pull you into his arms. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart... I had no idea." He kissed your temple and pulled away from you, just enough to look you in the eye. "How about I make it up to you?"

Your pout deepened for a second at his offer. "But it's your birthday, I-I was trying to do something special for you!" He nodded and pulled you right back into his arms.

"I know, I know... but you've been stressed, right? With finals."

"There are no finals, it's fucking February, the semester just started." This was getting him nowhere so he lifted you up and carried you upstairs. Your room was just down the hall from his so you didn't question it, and it wasn't the first time he'd carried you around the house, he often found you crashed on the couch or elsewhere and brought you back to bed.

You wrapped yourself around him and only questioned it when he brought you into his room. "What're you doing..?" You asked, voice soft, but you weren't protesting.

"You wanted to surprise me on my birthday, and I want to make you feel better." He explained, setting you down on your back on the bed before crawling over top of you. "Two birds, one stone." You stared up at him, wide eyed and... oddly, very turned on.

Axl kissed down your neck, unbuttoning your top. He brushed the fabric aside and kissed over your chest, watching you carefully and making sure you were comfortable with where he was heading. "You can tell me to stop if you want." He assured, leaving a last kiss on your chest before helping you take your shirt off.

You gave a small nod, holding yourself up and unclipping your bra. "I know." You tossed your clothes to the side and laid back down, smiling warmly up at him.

He smiled back at you and continued to trail kisses down your stomach, your breathing getting heavy, tears drying up quickly now. He stripped you down to your panties, taking his time and muttering praise all the while. "You did a good job, sweetheart, getting a little dinner for us, for me." He mused, placing a final kiss on your lower abdomen, just above the lace of your panties. "You did perfect, now just relax and let me do the work."

[bunbundubdub]

Embrace The Cold - Zayne

Off we go with the second installment of "What could the first time cuddling 'Enter LI name' be like!" This time it is the snowman himself, Dr. Zayne! Honestly this story kinda ran away from me for a bit and got both far more detailed and far far longer than I had planned, so let me know if this is something you like or if you'd prefer it to be kept a lil shorter for the next few! Have fun reading TW: fluff, cuddling ---------------------------------------

Over the years Zayne had gotten used to being called cold or uncaring. After a while he had even gotten used to the cold puns because of his demeanor and Evol. By now he didn't even mind those comments anymore. Strangers or even colleagues could call him a man with the emotional warmth of a block of ice all they wanted because he knew that the only person who mattered knew him better.

While he had never gotten any complaints about his bedside manner, at least not since he became head of cardiac surgery, his friends were far and few inbetween when it came to his private life. He cared for his patients with passion and professionalism, offering comfort to the best of his ability but he was also not shy about admonishing them if they disregarded his orders for a speedy recovery.

Yet when he thought back at the few awkward times his well meaning colleagues tried to set him up with friends, he couldn't help but cringe. They had all been lovely people, but Zayne had quickly learned that blind dates were not something he was very proficient in. The small talk about the weather and the place they had met at soon faded into silence and the date usually turned very uncomfortable for both parties involved as well as the waiter.

Zayne sometimes wondered what the waiter thought about him, considering that he met at this restaurant with every date he had been set up with, always being tended to by him. Did he think of him as a socially inept idiot that couldn't charm his way into a second date or just as a playboy who moved on to the next person after he had gotten what he wanted?

But then his mind would shift to you. You were the wrench thrown into the well oiled machine that was his life. After all these attempts at kickstarting his love life, Yvonne had asked him for one more attempt and he had only reluctantly agreed. Unlike the others he had been made to meet with, he immediately felt far more comfortable the second you entered the restaurant, a little late and flustered because of it.

Once you got all the apologies out of your system for being late, none of it actually being your fault, the two of you eased into a very comfortable conversation. There had been no awkward silence between you at any point, you seemed genuinely interested in the things he had to say, asking questions and even prompting him to remind you of your food you were neglecting for the sake of not missing a word. He of course returned your interest, questioning you on your life, your hobbies, whatever came to mind.

Before either of you realized, two hours had passed, you had eaten your dinner and dessert and even your drinks had been emptied for a while.

One date turned into two, then three and before you knew it you were a couple without ever really saying it out loud. In the following days and weeks your relationship developed quickly and also not at all. Due to his busy work life clashing with yours, meetings in person often were few and far inbetween, but you managed to make it up with voice and video calls during the times you had time but were apart.

But now something incredible, almost unbelievable happened. Not only did you manage to secure two weeks of vacation, but Zayne did as well. You had never seen him so giddy with excitement as you picked up his video call in the evening, excitedly telling you about his accomplishment. Plans were quickly made how you two wanted to spend your free time, both together and apart, and before you knew it, the days until your vacation had passed and your doorbell rang.

Zayne was wearing his usual dark attire, his silver glasses perched on his nose and a warm smile on his lips. "Are you ready to leave?" With a kiss to your temple he stepped past you into your apartment, grabbing the suitcase in the hallway as you put on your shoes and jacket. "I can't put into words how excited I am, I haven't had a vacation in forever!" He breathed out a quiet chuckle and waited outside the door as you quickly scanned your apartment again, making sure that you had not left on any lights or appliances before following after him, locking the door behind you.

Zayne was a meticulous driver, never speeding and with his hands always at their correct place on the wheel. Except for today. He was still driving like a model citizen, but unlike usual, your entwined hands were resting on the center console, his thumb rubbing comforting circles on the back of your hand. You had confided in him before that you were a little nervous, this was not only your first vacation together, but also the first night you would spend at his home.

If he was anyone but him, your heart would most likely be beating out of your chest or you would be nauseous from nervousness but this was Zayne after all. Your Zayne. Your gentle snowman of a boyfriend who would spend hours focused on the most complicated surgeries, saving lives with the very hand that now held yours, only to ask you to accompany him to an arcade in the evening so you could help him win a plushie to give to a young patient of his.

You have sat in at a lecture he was giving, his professional behaviour and calm voice captivating the audience and another day you saw him walking to the pediatric ward in light blue scrubs covered head to toe with little snowmen so the children wouldn't be as scared.

The car came to a gentle stop at the end of a short traffic jam. Zayne squeezed your hand and his eyes found yours as you turned your head. "What's going on in that head of yours? I can hear you overthinking from here." His smile was as gentle as usual, with an inquisitive look in his eyes.

"I don't know, to be honest. I know I have no reason to, but I think I'm a little nervous." The corner of his mouth twitched upwards a little and he turned his eyes back towards the road, now that the traffic jam had let up a little.

The busy streets of Linkons inner city gave way to a calmer neighborhood and after passing by the security guard of the gated community where Zayne lived, he soon turned into his driveway, only letting go of your hand to park the car and release his seatbelt.

His warm hands then ran along your arm to your hand, resting a moment against your pulse. "I won't dismiss your feelings by telling you there's no reason to be nervous, but you know me. You have gotten to know me better in the short time we have known each other than some people have who have known me for years. There is nothing I expect of you during our vacation except that you enjoy our time together. We get so little of it as it is."

He lifted your entwined hands and gave you a small kiss on your knuckles before letting go and exiting the car. You didn't even get the chance to open the door yourself, by the time you had gathered your bag at your feet, it was already open, with Zayne waiting patiently for you.

"Could you get the door? I had your fingerprint added to the automatic locking system." Zayne asked from behind you, hands full with your suitcase and his coat. As promised, the door gave a quiet click as you pressed your thumb on the scanner and the clean, almost clinical scent of his home greeted you.

It was almost funny how even his home held so many traces of his work, from the academic books and texts taking up an entire bookcase on their own, to his academic certificates lining the wall. When he had invited you over for the first time it even smelled like a hospital. There was the ever persistent scent of antiseptic, antibacterial soap and what you later learned was a hand lotion specifically formulated for medical personell that had to wash and desinfect their hands very frequently.

He had explained that as a surgeon, fragrances of any kind were not permitted and considering how much time he usually spent in the hospital, those habits had simply carried over into his private life. He didn't mind perfumes, colognes or any kinds of room sprays, he just didn't see a need to purchase them if they would only go to waste anyway. But ever since you had commented on it, not in a mean way in the slightest, he had started to experiment.

The next time you visited there was a faint scent of vanilla in the air, not overpowering but still clashing with the "natural" scent of his home. After that it was the scent of pine trees and eucalyptus which made everything smell like a very strange medicinal spa treatment. That one was discarded as well.

In the end, with your help, he had settled for a very unoffending citrus scent. It wasn't too harsh and also didn't clash. Instead of smelling cold and uninviting, his home now just simply smelled clean. He himself was an entirely different story. At his insistence, you two had once gone to try out some perfumes and colognes, with nothing to show for it but a headache and a desperate need for a shower and fresh clothes.

The two of you dropped down on his sofa, both tired from a long day of work and ready for a day of relaxing tomorrow and the two weeks of vacation that would follow. "I had planned to cook something nice together, but I did not anticipate how exhausting work would be today. I hope you are fine with takeout as well?" You could only nod and let your head drop back to rest on the backrest.

You couldn't imagine how extreme an exhausting workday would be for a surgeon, but yours had not been any better. Running from meeting to meeting, talking to customers and colleagues, having to forego your lunch break and just having to sneak some bites as you were once again rushed to yet the next thing you had to worry about. The rest of the week had not been any better, leaving you with no time to actually pack and prepare your apartment for your abscense until you got home in the afternoon today.

There were some minutes of silence as the two of you just lounged on the sofa, with Zayne copying your position with his long legs stretched out as far as they would go and his head tilted back. It wasn't particularily comfortable, but neither of you had the energy to move a muscle now that you had sat down.

His fingers were tapping gently along the cushions until they found yours, immediately wrapping around them. Soon the silence was starting to hurt your ears and you moved with a groan, stretching your arms and legs, allowing your joints to pop as you did. You quickly decided on tonights dinner and after ordering you both took turns in the bathroom to wash up and get changed out of your work clothes into something more comfortable.

During your dinner you shared some stories of your day, with Zayne talking more about the antics of his coworkers to avoid sharing information he was not permitted to and you venting about your lack of a lunch break and how many times you had to repeat yourself with those customers who did not seem to grasp even the simplest concepts.

Stuffed with dinner and dessert to full capacity, you quickly washed the dishes and debated what you would want to do with the rest of the day. It was too late and you both were too tired to go out again but it was still too early to go to bed yet. Tomorrow was already a day planned with mostly laying around and maybe going shopping for some last minute necessities before your vacation, so going to bed early tonight would only make you wake up far too early.

After your first time visiting, you had commented on Zaynes rocking chair, wide enough for one person to more than comfortably sit on, but still too narrow to fit you both. It had merely been a cheeky comment, with no intention behind it, yet when you had entered his apartment this time, the rocking chair had been banned to the bedroom, making for a comfortable reading space right by the windows and in it's place in the living room now stood something you could only call a rocking sofa.

It was a two seater, plush and comfortable with dark grey fabric, with more than enough space to even lay down and stretch your legs. There was also a small sideboard in front of it with a TV and the console you had played on together before.

"Please don't tell me you bought that just because of the comment I made." You said with a deadpan voice, scratching your temple with a sigh. Zayne placed a smooch on just that spot and turned to lead you over to the sofa. "Very well, then I won't tell you. I did not want to break it in on my own and now seems like a perfect opportunity. What do you say?" With a snort you ushered him along with a small smack to his butt, laughing at the way he nearly jumped out of his skin and turned to give you a playful glare.

He held the chair still so you could get on without an issue and watched with a smile as you stretched yourself out as much as you could. "Comfortable?" He asked, pushing and pulling on the back rest to make you rock back and forth ever so gently. "It is…but I bet it would be even more comfortable with company." You didn't have to ask him twice, tapping the space next to you with your fingers, you couldn't help but giggle at the violent rocking that shook you about as he sat down.

Sitting there together, with Zayne resting one of his legs on the ground to keep up the gentle rocking, you quickly felt drowsiness taking over you. "I never understood why parents like rocking chairs so much to put their kids to sleep." Your sentence ended with a big yawn, the kind that made your eyes tear up. Zayne did not comment and as you turned to your side to look at him, you saw that his eyes were closed.

His breathing was slow and calm but by the way he was still rocking the chair, you were certain that he had not already fallen asleep. His breath hitched a little as you raised your hand to trace some of the scars on the arm he had resting on his stomach. "Are you still nervous?" The room had gotten so quiet that his voice made you flinch a little.

He turned his head towards you when you didn't answer right away. Your fingers that had been running over his arms crept up to his jaw, running along the sharp bone, tracing his cheekbones to his temple, before brushing his dark hair away from his hazel eyes. "You told me I don't have to be. And you're right…I do know you, my precious snowman who will protect me just like I will protect you. I know that as long as I'm with you I will be safe."

For a split second you thought you saw a flash of pain run across his face, but with a blink of you eyes, it was gone. He turned over to face you fully. His arms slowly reached out towards you, one pushing into the plush cushions to reach under your body, the other circling around your waist and with a quick pull, there was hardly any space between the two of you anymore.

You could feel his breath on your face and in the way his chest pressed against yours, the hand of the arm beneath you settling on your lower back while the other carressed your upper back. For a moment you felt like your heart would start racing again due to the sudden proximity but as you stared at his beautiful features, those intelligent eyes that sparkled in greens, browns and even some specks of yellow, the long lashes that framed them and his plush lips that had made you weak with both words and kisses before, you noticed that it was just as calm as your breath.

Laying in Zaynes embrace, it felt like nothing could touch you, no one would dare to even think of harming you. Now even the thought of worrying about being with him seemed ridiculous. Had he ever even given you a reason to worry? Even your first meeting had just felt right. There was hardly any awkwardness, no uncomfortable silences. Maybe you had been moving rather quickly in the eyes of others, but neither of you regretted anything.

You did not regret telling each other your life stories right away, skipping the pleasantries and fun fact about each other for a later date. You did not regret wanting to give him a kiss on the cheek after he had dropped you off and accompanied you to your front door to make sure you made it home safe and he did not regret accidentally turning his head at just the last second so your kiss ended on his lips instead.

As you shared this intimate moment, a shiver ran across your body. Due to his Evol, Zaynes body tended to overcompensate the cold, making his body run hotter than most people. In turn, he prefered his living space to be on the cooler side. Luckily he was prepared and pulled the blanket, that he had slung over the backrest, over the both of you. As he adjusted on the sofa, he pulled you even closer, tangling your legs together to erase even the last bit of distance between you two.

Sharing your warmth and with the quiet affection visible between you both, you snuggled your face into his chest, the faint scent of something that was purely Zayne tickling your nose. You were safe, you were loved and with those thoughts in mind, you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep.

[aspenmissing]

Hello my dear! I need to get another idea out of my head. And I know, that it'll be here in good hands ^-^

Wdisappearance (and also Mylo's and Claggor's) death and Vi's disappearance, Powder was her last everything.

So, even though Silco was one of the main reasons all of this happened, she decided to work for him, to be as close to Powder as possible. Even though she knew, that working for him would change her (negatively) as a person.

Years passed and all of the sudden Vi stood in front of Reader, asking for her sister. Both of them started a big, emotional argument. Trying to understand each others side. What happened, what changed - How they changed as a person.

So it's like Sister Reader x Jinx but also kinda Vi x Sister Reader?

ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ɪ ᴅɪᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴇʀ

ᴊɪɴx x ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴠɪ (ꜰᴇᴀᴛ. ��ɪʟᴄᴏ) || ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ || 4193 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ᴀʙᴀɴᴅᴏɴᴍᴇɴᴛ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ᴏʜ ʜᴇʟʟᴏᴏᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ ʙᴀᴋᴀɪ!! ꜱᴏ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ! ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ɪ ᴅɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛɪᴄᴇ, ꜱᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ!! < 3 <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊɪɴx/ᴘᴏᴡᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴠɪ

Y/N stood in the shadows of the undercity, the faint glow of neon lights from the depths of Zaun painting the air around her in harsh hues of blue and red. She had been here for weeks now, lost in the haze of her own grief and guilt. The streets of Zaun had changed since the explosion at the factory, since that fateful night when Powder, the girl she had once shared a bond with, became something else. A bomb, a betrayal, and a fire that consumed everything—Vi, Mylo, Vander, and Claggor were gone, leaving only ashes and broken pieces of what used to be.

Powder was the last thing Y/N had left. Her name was etched into her heart like a scar, a reminder of the innocent girl she had tried to protect, the girl she had failed. But now, Powder was no longer the same. The girl who had once looked at Y/N with wide, hopeful eyes had turned into something dangerous, someone willing to destroy anything in her path for the sake of vengeance.

And Silco… Silco had been the one to take advantage of that. The undercity was his to control, and he knew exactly how to manipulate Powder’s anger and grief. He was the one who kept her close, fed her rage, and used her as a weapon. Y/N knew Silco was one of the architects of their destruction, but there was no going back now. In a way, she had chosen this path. She had chosen to be here, in the heart of the chaos, where the promise of reconnecting with Powder lingered like a fragile thread.

"You're late," a cold voice broke her reverie.

Y/N turned to face him. Silco, sitting in his high-backed chair, eyes glinting with calculated malice, didn’t seem surprised. He never did. He watched her, his posture relaxed but the air around him charged with an authority that commanded respect. He had been patient with her, understanding of her pain, and she hated herself for the way she responded to that understanding.

"I’m not here to talk," Y/N replied, her voice steady but hollow. She had long since stopped fighting the darkness that Silco offered. "I’m here because I need to see her."

His lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "You’ll see her when I allow it. You know how this works, little one. Loyalty has a price."

Y/N didn’t flinch. "I know."

But it was a lie. She didn’t know what she was getting into. She was too lost in her need to find Powder, to make things right, even if it meant becoming something she never wanted to be. Silco knew it, too. He had seen the cracks in her, the way the girl who had once been full of hope and ideals now teetered on the edge of despair.

"I want to help you, Y/N," Silco continued, leaning forward. "But you need to understand that to be close to her, you have to do more than just exist in the shadows. You need to prove your loyalty."

"How?" Y/N asked, her voice barely a whisper, as if she had already made the decision, even before hearing the answer.

Silco’s eyes gleamed as he leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping on the armrest. "There’s someone in Piltover who’s been a thorn in my side. A scientist. You’ll take care of them."

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t the first time Silco had made such a request. She had already done his bidding—small things, easy things, things that didn’t matter much. But now, it was different. Piltover wasn’t just some distant city. It was a place she had once dreamed of. The city where everything had seemed so full of promise before everything fell apart. Before Powder’s descent into chaos, before the factory explosion that took everything from her—her family, her sense of self, her place in the world.

But all of that was gone. She couldn’t afford to think about the past now, about the people she used to care about. She needed to focus on finding Powder. She needed to prove to herself, to Silco, that she was worthy of being in the same room as her again.

"Consider it done," Y/N said, her voice hollow, void of any real emotion. She had made her choice. She would do whatever it took.

Silco smiled, but it wasn’t a warm smile. "Good. You’ll find your way back to her, Y/N. But remember, nothing comes without a cost."

The mission was simple, but the weight of it crushed her. As she made her way into Piltover, Y/N couldn't help but remember the dreams she once had of the city—the idealistic visions of what it could be, what it should have been. The buildings, so grand and beautiful, now seemed like a mocking reminder of everything she had lost. The city had always been a distant world to her, a place that existed beyond her reach, beyond the walls of Zaun.

Now, it was a battleground. Her battleground. The faces of Piltover’s elite—people she had once admired, people she had once believed were different from the corruption she had seen in Zaun—walked the halls without a clue of what she had become. No one knew the things she had done to survive, to stay close to Powder. No one knew what she had sacrificed, the person she had become.

Y/N found her target, but when she saw the figure before her, something stirred inside her. She hesitated, feeling the weight of the weapon in her hand. The mission was so clear, so simple—one more kill, one more task for Silco. But in that moment, her grip faltered. She remembered who she had been, long ago, before everything had gone wrong. She remembered a time when she hadn’t been consumed by darkness, when she had hoped to change things, to find a balance between Piltover and Zaun.

That person was gone. She had died the moment Powder’s bomb had detonated, when everything had shattered into pieces.

With a swift motion, she silenced her conscience and completed the mission. Her hands were stained with blood, but it didn't matter. The weight of her actions no longer weighed on her. She had buried those feelings long ago.

As she stepped back into the shadows of Zaun, the finality of her choice settled in. She wasn’t Y/N anymore. She was something else. She was a shadow, a weapon, a tool. And in that darkness, she would remain until she found her way back to Powder.

Because Powder—her last hope—was waiting for her.

Y/N’s steps were heavy as she walked through the labyrinth of alleys and shadows, the weight of her mission pressing down on her. The blood on her hands felt as if it had seeped into her very soul, leaving an indelible mark that she could never scrub away. The streets of Zaun passed by in a blur, the neon lights flickering like distant stars in a dying sky, the air thick with the smell of oil, sweat, and decay.

By the time she reached Silco’s office, her hands were still trembling, but her mind was set. The moment she stepped through the door of The Last Drop, the world outside fell away. Everything was muted, dim, as if the bar itself was a place of refuge for the broken, the lost, and the damned.

Silco was sitting at his desk, the same cold, calculating figure she had come to know. His expression flickered with mild amusement when he saw the blood on her clothes, but his eyes gleamed with approval.

“You’re back,” he said, his voice smooth and controlled. He didn’t need to ask about the mission. He knew.

Y/N didn’t speak. Her eyes were fixed on him for a long moment before she turned, as if the weight of his gaze was too much. Silco gestured to a door behind him, his posture relaxed but commanding.

“Go ahead,” he said, his tone almost mocking in its calmness. “She’s waiting for you.”

=

Her heart hammered in her chest as she crossed the threshold. The door creaked as it swung open, and there, in the middle of a dimly lit room, stood her.

Powder—or rather, Jinx—the girl she had once known. The girl who had been full of hope, and now, seemed so far removed from the innocence she had once clung to. Her hair was wild and streaked with colors, her eyes a burning mix of madness and grief, the spark of chaos that now defined her.

Jinx’s gaze locked onto Y/N’s, and for a heartbeat, the world outside disappeared. She stared at Y/N as if trying to place her, as if the face in front of her felt like a memory she couldn’t quite grasp.

Then, in an instant, Jinx cried out, her voice wild and broken. Before Y/N could even react, she was pulled into a tight embrace, the younger girl’s arms wrapping around her like a lifeline. The force of it nearly knocked the breath from Y/N’s lungs, but she instinctively wrapped her arms around Jinx, holding her just as tightly.

Everything else fell away. The blood, the guilt, the distance between them—none of it mattered anymore. In this moment, the world was just the two of them, two broken souls that had lost everything, but somehow still had each other.

Jinx’s sobs were muffled against Y/N’s chest, her small body trembling violently, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Y/N could feel the tremors coursing through her, the weight of the chaos Jinx had carried alone. The explosion, the betrayal, the destruction—it was all still fresh in her mind.

"I thought I lost you," Jinx whispered, her voice a desperate mix of relief and confusion, her hands clutching Y/N’s shirt like she was afraid to let go.

Y/N’s throat tightened as she held her tighter. She didn’t know what to say. There were no words that could make this better. But she didn’t need to say anything.

“I’m here,” Y/N finally whispered, her voice hoarse. “I’ll always be here, Powder. I’m not leaving you.”

Jinx pulled back just enough to look into Y/N’s eyes, searching for something, some sign that this wasn’t just another cruel trick of fate. She found it—found the truth in Y/N’s gaze. Slowly, her lips curled into a small, shaky smile.

"Together?" Jinx asked, her voice almost playful, as if testing the weight of the word.

Y/N didn’t hesitate. She smiled back, her heart aching but full in the same breath.

"Together," she whispered.

And in that moment, time seemed to stop. The blood on her hands, the terrible price she had paid, the path that led them here—it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Because they were together again. The last two pieces of a broken family.

Years passed, each one blurring into the next, as the weight of Silco’s demands continued to shape and redefine Y/N. The girl who had once dreamed of balance and hope, the girl who had once fought for a better future, was no more. In her place stood a shadow, a weapon forged from the fires of betrayal and chaos, with every mission, every task, stripping away the remnants of her humanity.

Under Silco’s watchful eye, Y/N became an extension of his will—a blade sharpened to cut through anyone who stood in his way. She no longer hesitated when the order was given. The blood on her hands had long since dried, and the voices of the past—Vander, Mylo, Claggor, Vi —faded into distant memories, replaced by the cold, ever-present weight of the choices she had made. Every night, she drifted into a restless sleep, her thoughts haunted by the ghosts of those she had loved and lost, yet the nightmares no longer carried the same weight. She had become numb to it all.

She was good at what she did. Silco had made sure of it.

Her name, once a source of meaning, was little more than a faint echo now. She had become a tool, a force of nature working in silence, her hands doing his bidding without question. Whether it was eliminating rivals, infiltrating Piltover’s defences, or securing the loyalty of Zaun’s most dangerous criminals, Y/N was always there, always moving in the shadows, her presence felt but rarely seen. She was a ghost in Silco’s world, and that was exactly how he wanted her.

=

It had been three years since that fateful day when she had reunited with Jinx, and in all that time, Y/N had watched the girl she had once known slowly slip further away from the person she had been. Jinx had changed, and Y/N knew it was because of Silco. He had moulded her into something new, something untouchable, just as he had done with Y/N.

Powder was still there—still the spark of chaos, still the wild and unpredictable force of nature—but now, there was something else in her eyes. A coldness, a hardness, as if she too had lost everything in the pursuit of a dream that could never be realized. Y/N had come to accept that the girl she had once fought to protect no longer needed protection. Jinx was her own force now, carving her path with reckless abandon, and while that terrified Y/N in some quiet corner of her mind, she didn’t have the energy to fight against it anymore.

Tonight was no different. Silco’s voice echoed in her mind as she stood outside a run-down warehouse, the chill of Zaun’s night air cutting through her like a blade. She was to make an example of someone—someone who had dared to cross him. Y/N hadn’t asked for the details. She didn’t need to anymore. She was simply the weapon, not the strategist.

The door creaked open, the faint sound swallowed by the hum of Zaun’s industrial heartbeat. Inside, the dim glow of fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting shadows across the floor. Y/N moved silently, her boots barely making a sound as she approached the target—a man whose life was now worth less than the contract Silco had signed for him. He was cowering in the corner, a pitiful mess of desperation. His fear was palpable, but to Y/N, it was just another job.

She didn’t hesitate.

The man was silent before she moved, his terror evident as she closed the distance between them. The faint tremor in his breath was the only sound she heard as she pulled the weapon from her belt. It was quick, and it was clean. No emotion, no thought. Just action. Just Silco’s will made flesh.

As she stepped away, the blood splattered across the floor, a dull reminder of what she had become. Another body. Another life taken for Silco’s empire.

=

Y/N returned to the Last Drop in silence, her hands still slick with blood, her heart still cold. She entered Silco’s office without a word, her face an unreadable mask, her eyes distant and void of any emotion. Silco didn’t look up from his desk, but he knew she had completed her task.

“Good,” he said, the word almost dismissive. “You’re becoming more efficient. I’m pleased.”

Y/N nodded but said nothing. She had long stopped feeling anything about Silco’s praise or scorn. It was all the same to her now. A small part of her—the part that still remembered who she used to be—hoped that one day it would be different. But that part was a whisper now, drowned out by the ever-present noise of her duty.

A sound at the door caught her attention. Jinx stepped into the room, her eyes wild and alive, her smile erratic but real. She was a storm contained in a fragile vessel, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel the familiar pang of longing for the girl she had once known.

“Y/N!” Jinx shouted, her voice high and full of excitement. “Guess what I did! Guess! I blew up a whole damn warehouse, just for fun!” She laughed manically, the sound unsettling in the silence of the room.

Y/N’s gaze softened for a moment, just for a moment. “I’m glad you had fun,” she said quietly, but the words were hollow. She wasn’t sure if she was lying to Jinx or to herself.

Jinx, oblivious to the distance that had grown between them, rushed over to Y/N, her arms flailing as she tried to grab her attention. “You should’ve seen it! The look on their faces, the way everything just went boom!”

Y/N nodded, her eyes distant as she watched Jinx in her wild, uncontained joy. She had always been the unpredictable one, the one who thrived on chaos. But for a brief, fleeting moment, Y/N could almost see the younger girl she had once tried to protect, the girl who had held her so tightly and whispered promises of a future together.

But that was before the blood, before Silco had fully taken hold of them both.

Now, they were just two sides of the same coin—both molded by the same hands, both irrevocably lost in the world Silco had crafted for them.

Y/N looked at Jinx, her heart aching, but she said nothing. The weight of the years, of the choices she had made, crushed the words in her chest.

She was his weapon. She would always be his weapon.

And she would never leave Jinx. But they were both beyond saving now.

The air on the rooftop was thick with tension, charged with the anger and pain that had been simmering for years. The sounds of the city below seemed to fade into the background as Y/N and Vi stood across from each other, fists clenched, breaths heavy.

Vi moved first, lunging toward Y/N with a fierce cry, her fist aimed directly at her face. Y/N barely dodged it, but the force of the punch made her stumble back. She retaliated quickly, throwing a punch of her own, her knuckles connecting with Vi’s jaw with a satisfying thud. The impact sent Vi staggering but she quickly regained her footing.

“You think you can just show up and everything will be fine?” Y/N spat, eyes blazing with emotion. “Where the hell were you, Vi? Where were you when she needed you?” She threw another punch, her anger only intensifying as Vi blocked it and retaliated.

“I was trying to save you both!” Vi shouted back, her voice breaking as she swung her fist at Y/N. “I never wanted to leave you! But after the explosion, I was thrown in prison! Do you think I wanted that? Do you think I wanted to be stuck in there while you—while you stayed with Silco?” She punched Y/N hard in the stomach, making her double over, gasping for air.

Y/N straightened herself, barely fazed, though her heart was pounding in her chest. “I didn’t have a choice, Vi! I stayed because I had to stay close to her,” she snarled, gritting her teeth. “I had to stay with Powder to keep her safe! I stayed for her, and look at what she’s become now. Do you think I wanted to become this? A tool for Silco?”

Vi hesitated for a moment, her face contorting with a mixture of confusion and anger. “You think I don’t know how hard it was?” she retorted, her voice shaking. “I was stuck in that godforsaken prison, trying to figure out how to get back to you. And when I finally got out, all I found was the wreckage. All I found was you—changed. And I couldn’t find Powder. I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t fix any of it.”

Y/N stepped back, her chest heaving as she processed Vi’s words. “You left us, Vi,” she said, her voice quieter now, but still laced with bitterness. “You were supposed to protect her, too. You were supposed to help us when everything fell apart. And you weren’t there. You were gone, and I was the one left to pick up the pieces.” Her hands balled into fists again, her emotions rising once more. “Do you know what I had to do to stay close to her? Do you know what it cost me?”

Vi’s eyes widened, and for the first time, she seemed to falter. “What do you mean? What did you have to do, Y/N?” Her voice was low, almost desperate, as she stepped closer, her breath catching in her throat.

Y/N’s gaze dropped to the ground for a moment, the memories rushing back. “I had to bury everything I was. I had to do things I never thought I would be capable of. I did it because I needed to stay with Powder. I stayed with Silco, took on his orders—became part of his world—because it was the only way I could be close to her. To keep her from falling deeper into whatever nightmare she was becoming. I had to.”

The words came out in a rush, like a dam finally breaking, and Y/N’s fists trembled at her sides. “I had to make a choice, Vi. And I chose her. I chose to stay with the monster in order to keep her safe. And all this time, I kept pretending I wasn’t losing myself in the process. But I didn’t have a choice.”

Vi stood still, her breath coming in shallow gasps, her mind racing to process what Y/N had just revealed. She didn’t know how to respond. She had spent years imagining what had happened to Y/N, but nothing could have prepared her for this.

“You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to lose myself, too?” Y/N said bitterly, her eyes locked onto Vi’s, her chest rising and falling with the weight of everything they had never said. “I became a weapon, a tool for Silco’s empire, because that was the only way I could stay in the same damn city as Powder. And I stayed for her. But look at me now. Look at what I’ve become.”

Vi shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes. “I don’t know what happened to us, Y/N,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “But I’m not going to let you keep falling. I’m not going to leave you again. You are still my sister.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at the words, but she shook her head, a pained laugh escaping her lips. “You think you can save me now, Vi?” she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of despair and anger. “It’s too late for me. I’m already too far gone.”

But Vi didn’t give up. She stepped forward again, this time slower, more cautiously, her fists lowering at her sides. “Then we’ll fix this together,” she said softly, her eyes searching Y/N’s for something—anything—that could prove her wrong.

Y/N stood frozen for a moment, her eyes locked on Vi’s, but her thoughts racing a mile a minute. The fire in Vi’s eyes was strong, but Y/N couldn’t bring herself to believe it—not fully. The girl she once was, the one who fought for a better world, was long gone. The person standing before Vi now was a stranger, shaped by the darkness of Silco’s empire, molded by years of violence and manipulation.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Vi,” Y/N said finally, her voice almost inaudible. She shook her head, her expression softening for the first time in what felt like forever. “I’ve already lost myself. Who I was—she’s gone. I don’t even know how to be that person anymore. What Silco made me... that's all I know now.” Her words were barely a whisper, but they felt like a weight on her chest.

Vi’s face dropped, her hope beginning to flicker as she saw the depth of Y/N’s pain. She took a step closer, but Y/N took a step back, her resolve hardening again, a wall going up between them.

“I’m sorry, Vi,” Y/N whispered, her voice rough with the bitter truth. “But I’m not that person anymore. And I never will be.”

Before Vi could say anything, Y/N’s hand moved instinctively to her belt. She pulled out one of Jinx’s smoke bombs, her fingers trembling slightly as she held it up, feeling the weight of it in her palm. It felt familiar—too familiar. It was the only thing that had kept her alive through the chaos, the one thing she could still rely on.

With a swift motion, she tossed the smoke bomb to the ground, and in an instant, a thick cloud of purple smoke enveloped them both, clouding their vision and choking the air. Coughing, Vi tried to push through the smoke, but by the time she cleared her lungs and eyes, Y/N was already gone.

The rooftop was silent once more, the echoes of their battle still lingering in the thick fog. And Vi stood there, alone, the weight of everything they had said, and everything they hadn’t, hanging heavily in the air.

[snows-arts]

Decided I'm going to stick with 11/12 for Rein's Birthday, it just feels right. To celebrate I redrew the first piece I ever posted of him!

Happy Birthday Babygirl 💖

[fear-no-mort]

favourite thing: his new habit of saying uhuh/mhm and also this

[ricky-mortis]

S1 Pulp Musicals Gang my beloved

[dykedvonte]

Can you talk about trans!Curly a little bit more? I'm curios if you have any headcanons and the like

-💀

It's just such a thing in my mind because it adds a truthful sadness and differing aspect to mouthwashing.

If Curly was trans it adds the horror of the horribly selfish thought he could have easily been in Anya's situation. It could've been him but it wasn't and he so conflicted on the pit it put in his stomach that brings and the shameful relief it wasn't. In this scenario he is friends with Jimmy for a long time still. Jimmy likely knew him pretransition. Maybe he gave Curly weird looks then, maybe they never stopped after, maybe they seemed meaner. They are guys now, bros, both of them are. He doesn't really have to worry what those looks mean anymore, Jimmy just has that face with him sometimes. It's recontextualizing a lot of things for him that he was in denial about or too ashamed to admit. How naive he was being and how he let that get another person hurt.

Specifically with Anya, it's he knows the dread and fear she's feeling. He can understand it because he had to live with it for a good portion of his life, he knows it cause he still does, just in a slightly different way. It makes him think of all the times he's been alone with Jimmy, all the times he's been way more drunk off his ass and not remember the night, Jimmy was always with him the next day. Makes him think of the comments he would laugh off both because that's what guys do but because that part of being a girl says to laugh so Jimmy doesn't do something. It's the selfish realization that he was never safe and he's uncertain now too. Mad at himself for forgeting that feeling, espcially since for a long time he would've been considered the only woman on a crew (with all that implies) for a long time.

He should've taken those blinders off, step back into that position for just a moment and it's so much more painful that Anya likely came to him because he should've gotten it. Those thoughts don't leave his mind after the crash when he's in an even more vulnerable position than she was...

[quirkle2]

space/saturn imagery ritsu i love you

[craftstale]

hi!!! i saw u making an explanation to Toriel and Asgore’s symbolism and I was wondering what inspired you to give Sans sticky notes and Papyrus the pretty markers :D (mostly Papyrus bc he’s literally my fav and i love him sm ahhh!) but if isn’t that deep either, i completely understand LOL!

Sure thing!!! I love Papyrus a lot too ^_^ "Isn't that deep" oh brother, you got a Big Storm Comin'...

Sans is a sticky note because to me, a sticky note is kind of a "Support" craft supply-- usually you only really use it in tandem with Other Materials. Likewise, Sans is that usual punny guy everyone's Familiar with when he talks to people and gets the opportunity to "bounce" off people like in Conversations or Banter. He doesn't really seem to have so much Regard for Himself, but he cares about the people he hangs out with: Papyrus, the regulars at Grillby's, the Royal Guards stationed in Snowdin, Toriel... He just Thrives more with others! I also consider sticky notes a Not Very "Strong" supply, in that it doesn't have a good stick to thingsband will sometimes fall off surfaces, and it kinda reminds me of how Silly and Laid-Back he is, selling fried snow and hotdogs, pulling pranks, it's not the behavior of someone who is Strict and Straight-Laced? He has that "forgeddaboudit" attitude that I feel like can be Expressed that way... just goofing around and not Committing to much. (I think he would leave them everywhere like with his socks.) The weakness of sticky notes can also allude to his stats... But Importantly, I also think-- when he's Pushed to his Limits-- he can become something Incredible... if you are pushed to your creative limits, left with only sticky notes to work with, that limitation can create something Amazing with sticky notes, like sculptures, origami, when he is Absolutely alone and Has to do something, he Does and he Delivers. Only under that restriction does he show That side of himself, because he Finally forces himself into action. Sans is also Pretty Darn Smart, and to show that, I thought the fact that people sometimes use sticky notes to Study was also a good representation for all those sides of him... the Laziness, the Laid-Back Attitude, his Potential, and his Smarts. Not to mention lots of Pranks can be pulled with sticky notes, I'm sure you've seen at least a few. Oh, and also sticky notes are a nod to the silly joke regarding his stray Sock in the skeleton brother's house. It's only fair. (I thought giving him the little sticky visor was cute... like the one he wore in the dog casino !)

Papyrus was a little tough to figure out but I decided that the alcohol marker fit him well !! It's Bold, it's Vibrant, it's a Committed craft supply (on account of the fact you Can't Erase Ink)... It's like Papyrus being Unabashedly Proud, Brave, and Always Giving His 110%! Even in the face of danger (like when the Player decides to do a No Mercy run), he Knows the risk, oh, he is So Fucking Aware, but has such a Strong belief and is so Willing to Take That Chance, he stands his ground and doesn't Shy Away From It. Bold Marker Ink... You can't take it back once it's set down. You do have to be careful with Markers also, like, you must keep a level of Control when dealing with Ink as a medium and its Multitude of Colors. And Papyrus has Insane control over his Magic Attacks. He's the only one you Can't Die to-- even Toriel slips up sometimes, but Papyrus? It's impossible. And he's really Strong and Creative too! Like out of All the monsters in the underground, I don't think there is Any Bullet Pattern that can rival Papyrus's "Absolutely Normal Attack". Markers are also a craft supply used by people of All Ages-- markers are usually provided to children to color with, like Papyrus's love for things that are Usually associated with children (Peek-A-Boo With Fluffy Bunny... his Racecar bed...) but don't be fooled !! Markers are also a common medium for experienced artists as well (I think people usually move from Water Based to Alcohol Based markers...) Papyrus is definitely mature and serious when he needs to be, and he is Also very smart, I mean, his favorite book is "Advanced Puzzle Constructions for Critical Minds"! I based him Specifically on the Alcohol Marker as a reminder that Yes, He Does Like Things That Younger People Likes, but he is Still Very Much an Adult. Usually, when you buy these alcohol markers, they come with Two Different Tips, like Chisel and Fine or Something... I think this is kinda like how Papyrus is Quite Good At Lying, or having that Smug and Sassy side to him... it's not as Prominent to a lot of people around him, but to Frisk, he does let that side of him Peek Out a little. (Fun Fact: His hands/gloves creates the Finer lines while his feet/boots creates those Chisel Tip lines !!) Also I like imagining that he uses his ink as his Special Blue Attack, coloring over Frisk's soul ! He's also mentioned that his Battle Body can become a tuxedo in a pinch with some black paint, so I think he'd use his magic/ink for that also. And coloring the "Bridge".

The way their Mediums also work with others is pretty accurate to them too, I Would Think. Sans usually lets other people do the work (like how most of the work done on sticky notes is made by the Writer or whatever is applied On It) while Papyrus is more direct and active. I like to think that Papyrus writes on the little sticky note that Sans leaves around to Remind him to do stuff, like picking up his sock or recalibrating puzzles. (Their supplies also imitate their Stature too... Little Chunky Guy and Tall Slender Guy...)

[oftheblue]

Not a yet fully complete thought/theory BUT who do you think could be the person that called Vein?

Because as we saw, Liu Xiao was at the cinema with Xia Fei and if he made that call, Xia Fei would notice and he would probably be able to connect the dots. So was it really him or someone else?

Vein went to Wang Qing after that call on someone's instruction

"Give me you know what and I will leave you alone." That's what he said and that's what he was going to do, his munition was sleeping darts so he clearly wasn't there to kill anyone. His orders were precise.

And soon enough we found out what he was looking for.

A book/notebook that Cheng Weimin had in his work desk.

Now, Cheng Xiaoshi's mom is trying to save her husband and his father but where exactly is he? Because there is absolutely no way he died in that fire. It just doesn't seem right. Not with the way everyone reacted when his name is mentioned.

We obviously don't know his entire role in the story but we know he's someone who's a very important character.

So could it be possible that maybe he's the mastermind and that we're in for a bigger plot twist that we expected?

This entire time it's been hinted that Liu Xiao is that mastemind and tbh looking at it all, it feels like he probably is but with so many plot twists happening in this series, what if there's a completely bigger picture behind it all? something that we really didn't expect?

Later, when Xia Fei is with Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang he warns them to take care because the person they're looking for is probably hiding bigger secrets.

And it again shows Liu Xiao but he's standing in front of someone's door. Who lives there? Well the person they were looking for was Cheng Weimin and Xia Fei knows that. So the timing for this scene right as he's saying all this...?

Ugh, I'm having so many thoughts about link click now, the wait to find out what's really going on here is going to be so loooooong!! > <

[overly-verbose]

UPDATE: NO LONGER 'SHADOWBANNED' WOO YES

(Apparently the blog was wrongly flagged for spam, but Staff fixed it so woo yea)

My (new, everything until now doesn't seem to) stuff will actually appear in the carefully curated tags, and reblogs, and stuff just woo yeah I'm no longer invisible

(Also I can answer comments normally instead of in the tags woo yeah again!!)

Also I just realised I have no link from here to my fic's Main Series proper lol

Full title: "SIkuna's guide to not fucking up perfectly good children (look at them, they could get anxiety!)"

Ao3 whole series summary:

(alternative title: "SIkuna's guide to catching a cyclops cat by the throat in the KFC parking lot at 3am")

'Holy shit someone needs to hug those kids. Some adults too, to be honest', once thinks a fan of Jujutsu Kaisen, the definitely and absolutely only fictional franchise

Then, he abruptly finds himself at the beginning of the story as Sukuna, mister Basically The Devil, of all things

Completely blindsided by the weird cards given, he tries his best to prevent some things from affecting the characters-turned-people he already cared about even before they turned real

To better or worse results.

.

(It's an ongoing (there's still a LOT to go through lol) fix-it fic for the Canon Series so I feel like I'm contributing a little bit to the prevention of Lobotomy Kaisen getting even worse rn lmao)

I'm gonna leave the old Pinned Post for archival purposes/context of what's up with the tag-answers though

[Old pinned post under the cut]

I made up a way to answer comments here

(though it's annoyingly limited and inefficient and doesn't give notifications)

whilst I can't do it normally

(hey Tumblr staff I've been waiting on that email back for like three months now! :D)

- IN THE TAGS!

yeah it's kinda oof but modern (hellsite shadowban for no reason) problems require modern (hellsite shadowban for no reason) solutions!

*perishes*

[slashingdisneypasta]

Hey... what's your favourite urban legend or ghost story?

🌲🕸🌲🕸🌲