#I just wanted to draw clouds if I’m being honest

[samwise1548]

Birthday comic with s4(ish) Jonathan Sims

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[ID: A Magnus Archives comic that starts with Jon putting a can labeled "Generic Beer—Classic" on a counter. He is a thin brown man with long hair and green and red eyes. He says, "Just this, please," and the cashier (who's design is loosely based off of Morro from Ninjago), asks, "ID?"

Jon hands it to him, and the cashier types it in with a bored expression. He hands the bag to Jon and says, "Here you go sir. And—" in pink colored text he adds "happy birthday." Jon startles and mumbles "Oh um," but the cashier calls, "Next!"

The background panel colors darken as Jon looks back with discomfort, then looks down at his ID with a grimace. His card shows the date 07/11/19... His photo shows him with short hair and colored eyes. Jon says, "I suppose it is that day again." End ID]

described by the wonderful @princess-of-purple-prose

[dollfacefantasy]

Cool Rider

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon gets you ready for a ride on his motorcycle

word count: 1.4k

a/n: just a little fluff drabble i've been thinking about while i go back and forth on my other longer fics. imagine this to be a little bit after vendetta when leon's starting to get better. hope everyone enjoys, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus @luniaxi

“Quit joking around or you’re not going anywhere,” Leon grunts as he continues to mess around with the tire pressure on the rear wheel of his motorcycle.

“I’m just saying-” you chime before being cut off.

“You’re saying nothing more or I’m changing my mind,” he says and gives you a warning look.

Despite his attempt at being stern with you, affection clouds his eyes. You play along for him and mime zipping your lips. With a sharp exhale and shake of his head at your antics, he returns his focus to fidgeting with the pressure gauge hooked to his bike. But you’re happy just because you saw him smile.

You’d been begging him for months to take you for a ride on his bike. Every time you’d asked, you were met with “no” or “in your dreams.” You’d always ask him why, and he’d just brush it off. Too dangerous. It’s something he does alone. You eventually just gave up. He deserved his space, and you knew he’d seen so much pain and death in his life that he was probably a little overprotective by nature. It came as an absolute shock to you when he approached you last week and asked if you’d wanna go for a ride this weekend. He’d said it so casually, like he hadn’t shot you down time after time before. You weren’t sure what had changed, but a win is a win, right?

Now sitting on the stool by the bench where he kept all his motorcycle stuff, you swing your feet back and forth. As much as you’d been teasing him for the last thirty minutes about taking forever and a half, it was fun seeing him so locked in on his task. You studied his face, the way his brows furrowed and his eyes hardened, his lips curling a little with dedication.

“Hey stalker girl, instead of staring me down, maybe you should finish getting ready,” he teases as he finishes up and starts putting the tools away.

“I am ready,” you say.

“No you’re not. Where’s your helmet?” he asks while walking to you.

“Mmmm… you don’t wear a helmet,” you playfully point out.

You were just being difficult because he was so easy to mess with. You weren’t dumb, and you had no desire for your brains to splatter across some pavement. In general, motorcycles kind of scare you to be honest. If anyone but Leon was driving it, you wouldn’t even consider hopping on the back. So there was absolutely no way you were gonna get on that thing without a helmet strapped on.

“I didn’t ask you if I wear one. Where’s yours?” he says.

He stands between your thighs and looks down at you, taking in your pretty eyes, pouty lips, the face he couldn’t get enough of. His fingers run along your jaw, his thumb stroking over your chin. Every detail had him enraptured. He made fun of you for staring, but truth be told, he was just as guilty. The only difference was he hid it much better than you did.

“I’ll get it in two seconds. You were just taking so long, I figured I had some time to relax,” you joke with a quick peck to his lips, hopping off your seat.

“You better get it. I want your pretty little head kept in one piece,” he murmurs and lays a kiss on your hairline. He lightly swats your ass as you walk away, drawing that laugh from you that he loved to hear. He’s smiling while grabbing the keys, not that you could see it with your back to him. You were easy to mess with too.

“I just don’t think it’s fair that I have to wear one if you don’t,” you say as you lift the helmet up and inspect the one he’d bought for you.

“Too bad. I know what I’m doing. You don’t. God forbid I actually let you do this, and you end up with a concussion or something,” he grumbles while grabbing the keys.

“If we get in a crash though, your experience won’t matter. We’ll both go flying all the same. Then you’ll be the one with the concussion or worse, and I’ll be flat outta luck having to take care of you,” you explain while fidgeting with the straps on the helmet.

“Here, gimme that,” he says, taking it from you. He fixes the straps and gets them where they should be. Yeah, you’re being intentionally stubborn, but you had a good point and he knew it. “If it’s so important to you, I can wear one too.”

“It is important to me. I always want you safe,” you say, taking a moment to be genuine between all your teasing.

“I know, baby,” he says softly. It’s all he could say. Obviously, with the life he had, he couldn’t “be safe” all the time. But god, you made him want to try.

He gives you one last kiss before putting the helmet on you. He fastens it into place, making sure it’s nice and tight. Tilting your head around, he inspects it thoroughly. Has to be certain this shell of hard plastic is gonna do its job and protect his precious girl. 

After he’s done examining the efficacy of the helmet, he pulls back to give you a once over. Really look at you.

“Does it look good?” you ask, voice slightly muffled.

He chuckles and nods. “Yeah, it looks good. Pretty cool,” he confirms.

Of course you looked more than good. The sight of you completely melted his heart. He just didn’t know how to say it. He’d never been too good with words when you were involved. You made everything foggy, hard to think.

He couldn’t see the grin on your face right now, but he could just about feel the excitement radiating off of you as you pulled him into a hug, the shiny dome covering your head resting over his heartbeat. His palm runs up and down your back before you pull away and head to the motorcycle.

“Are we ready to go?” you ask.

He could hear the anticipation in your voice too. It was infectious, made him want to get on and speed off without looking back. But he still had a little hesitation left. Rationally, he knew he’d done everything he could to make sure this would go smoothly. In all likelihood, you would just have some fun and then come back home and everything would be fine. The irrational part of him just wanted that to be 100% guaranteed. He’d lost so many people. He couldn’t survive losing you, especially to something as trivial as a motorcycle accident.

But he was stalling now, and he knew it. You deserved this. Deserved to have the fun he’d offered you. You’d been so good to him for the last several months, putting up with him when it would’ve been reasonable to leave him in your rearview mirror. He swallows his doubt and nods.

But as he sees you start to look at it like you’re gonna get on, he stops you.

“Wait a second,” he says, starting to shrug off his jacket, “It’s cold out, and with the wind and everything. Just put this on.”

He can’t see how you lovingly roll your eyes at this which is probably for the best anyways. Knowing him, he’d probably get all huffy and defensive about it. Argue the practicality of his decision rather than just admitting he’d gone soft for you.

Regardless, you let him wrap the leather around you, sliding your arms into the sleeves. You give him a thumbs up, and he pulls you close to him, thoughtlessly planting a smooch on the cool helmet like he’d normally do to your head.

“You better hold on tight. This isn’t a video game. You don’t get extra points for riding with no hands,” he teases before grabbing the extra helmet he had and putting it on.

This time you give a mock salute and watch him swing his leg over the seat. He waves you over and you gladly get on behind him. The warmth of your front presses against his back. He looks down, admiring the way your hands lock around his waist, your arms adorned in the white stripes of his jacket.

He wheels the bike out of the garage, taking a deep breath as checks to see that the street is clear. One more sigh and mental reassurance later, he’s speeding out onto the road. He knows it’s all worth it as soon as he hears your laughter and feels you clinging to him even harder.

[rowdyslove]

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐑𝐘. | quinn hughes

꒰ pairing: quinn hughes x genderneutral!reader

꒰ genre: angst + fluff ;exes!au, exes to lovers trope | short oneshot

꒰ synopsis: after four years, going back to the hughes lake house for the summer brings back many emotions & memories from the past—especially the memories of you and your ex-boyfriend.

꒰ word count: 2.4k

꒰ author’s note: i just love the idea of ex lovers reuniting and giving each other a second chance :((( i think it’s so sweet, so this one i’m kind of very proud of :D

the time was around 3:00am, and as no surprise to you, you couldn’t sleep at all.

maybe it could have been because of the immense amount of happiness you were feeling due to it being your first night back at the hughes lake house for the summer with all your best friends.

this day had been your first day back with everyone since the incident that occured with one particular boy from the group four years ago.

and you thought you would’ve been completely fine, spending the whole summer back here just like you used to. everything should’ve been okay—except for the fact that the particular boy from four years ago, being the oldest of the hughes brothers, was now your ex-boyfriend and was very present in the house.

you honestly should’ve been able to move on from the boy by now. that’s why you decided to come back to the lake house. it’s been an entire four years, but you still found your mind clouding over with memories of you and quinn all the time.

you saw him almost everywhere you looked. always seeing him on the tv, either in a game of hockey against one of the many other teams or doing an interview for sports channels. you felt like there was just no escaping him no matter how hard you tried.

the cool breeze from the wind and the serene still-state of the lake was just enough to calm your mind-racing thoughts for the time being.

the moon had taken it’s bright spot over the sky, stars littering all around it, offering you bits of company as you sat on the dock by yourself. the sounds of water lapping against the bottom of the hughes family boat was the only thing you could hear. the air bouncing off of the lake comes cooler and the light gusts of wind leave goosebumps trailing down your arms. your breathing was smooth and stable, smelling the burning scent of the campfire that was still floating through the air, even after it had been put out.

the slightest sound of soft whispers being carried through the wind hits your ears, almost as if the sky was asking how you were doing; asking if you were okay as if the moon and stars could feel the sharp pains coursing within your heart.

you wanted to be honest, saying that you haven’t been okay for a while now. saying that you missed the way that the stars had painted the sky so brightly the night that quinn had kissed you for the first time on the very same dock those many years ago.

everything about this place just reminded you of him all over again.

through nights quite similar to this one, quinn would’ve been holding you safely in his arms, pressing the sweetest of kisses on your lips in the late hours you would spend together by the lake after sneaking away from the commotions happening in the lake house. he would give you all the comfort you needed, but now you sit there feeling nothing but hurt.

and it feels like the sky is judging you for staying hung up on the same boy you had left behind. but how could you not still be so enamoured with him when there was always love swimming in his eyes whenever he looked at you.

as if the moon could hear your thoughts, quiet footsteps can be heard coming from behind you. the slight creaking of the dock contrasting with the small waves beneath you. you think that you must just be seeing things as you look over your shoulder, watching the dark silhouette draw closer to you and it becomes more and more clear that it is quinn.

even through the fact that you could barely see from the darkness of the night, you feel your chest tightening from the way his hazel-like eyes are so easy to recognize, even in the darkest of hours. you couldn’t move, your body still as he sits down beside you, bringing his knees up and resting his forearms on them.

“look, i just came here to relax. we don’t have to talk or anythi–”

“i couldn’t sleep.” is all he says.

however, he doesn’t tell you that the reason for his sleepless night was because his mind was full of thoughts of you. the thoughts of the many times he had tried to reach out to you after you left him. the amount of unanswered calls and the unreturned efforts you made to come see him when he came home to michigan after being in vancouver.

he was reminded of the times he kept chasing after the love he probably should’ve just left alone.

he heaves intense breaths by you on the dock, everything around him seemingly blurring deep into the background the very moment he finally lets his eyes land on you. looking at you even though he can feel the fear building in his chest of breaking down right there next to you. you don’t catch onto the way his gaze stills on you as you keep your sight on the lake in front of you.

the last time he looked at you through blurry vision and unrequited stares was four years ago. he couldn’t be blamed for thinking that the sight of you right there next to him just like those times so long ago could be a simple figment of his imagination.

“i guess your love for the lake is still there, huh?”

quinn feels almost relieved at the thought of constancy from you. he couldn’t explain the strong emotions that were running through his veins at the fact that he still knew you so well, even after all this time being away from you.

sure, you might’ve been walking with a new kind of confidence around you, and the things you liked may not have been the exact same. but your love for the lake was still there. you still wore your hair up in messy ponytails the way you used to, and you still had the same liking for the kind of comfortably styled clothing.

the love of his life was still the same.

“are you okay?”

he loses himself in your words, and he’s not sure if it’s just the way you had said it, or if it was how genuine your voice sounded as you asked him. but something about the way you looked at him, with the softest gaze he’s ever seen, gives him the courage to answer you.

it’s a question he had heard plenty of times now. from his brothers, his teammates—pretty much everyone around him has asked him the same exact thing. it was a question he could never really answer properly, and even now, he still doesn’t know how to answer it.

but he tries his best to give an answer to you, even if it’s not the most accurate.

quinn couldn’t tell you just how much he was hurting still from losing you. it would be a lie if he said he had not been wondering for the past four years if things could have been easier with you still by his side. it would be another lie if he also said he didn’t feel his heart pounding and butterflies fluttering in his chest the moment he saw you walk in the door of the lake house earlier that day.

“i’ll be okay,” his answer was surprisingly honest. the most honest he could be in the moment.

quinn knew that he would be okay as time passed. and you hummed in agreement quietly to his words, bringing your legs up to hug them against your chest, chin resting gently upon them as the slow breeze continues to blow past the two of you.

“why didn’t you fight harder for us?”

his question caught you off guard, but it was a question you knew you always had the answer to. but the look he gives you seemed like he was not expecting a proper answer; he was just looking for closure. anything he could get in explanation for why you had ended your relationship the way you did.

“i didn’t want to get in the way of your dream.” your answer was something you had memorized in the back of your mind. but you never thought you would ever have to voice it right to him. even then after hearing it from you, he still didn’t seem satisfied with your answer.

“you were apart of that dream though. i wanted you by my side through everything.” the breaks in his voice didn’t do anything to disguise the pain he was obviously feeling.

“i didn’t want you to have to eventually choose between being in the nhl or staying behind with me. i knew what you wanted, and staying with you through it just seemed too difficult at the time.” your voice was more silent, more of a whisper. but quinn felt like he needed it shouted loud and clear at him.

“i never said that it would be easy for us. but i did know that if we tried, we would’ve been able to make it through. you could’ve waited.”

“you were leaving for vancouver that night. i didn’t know exactly when you were coming back, or if we’d even be the same while you were away in a whole different country.” you thought that quinn had let out all he had to say, but you werent prepared for the large pain you would be feeling in your heart at what he said next.

“you know, i was going to ask you to marry me.”

the thought that you had let marriage with quinn slip away just as quickly as you did with your relationship was enough to absolutely break you. especially when he was looking at you, tears shedding down his cheeks he didn’t even know had formed in the first place. the cracks in his voice broke through the peace that the cool breeze was bringing to the both of you.

“i’m so sorry.”

you were aware of everything that you were letting go of that night you walked out on him, and a sob itches at the back of your throat for the life you could’ve had with quinn.

noticing the large set of tears now escaping from your eyes, quinn is quick to pull you into his hold, hands finding the familiar spots on your back that he knew were quick to calm you down.

“i didn’t mean to end things for us the way i did.” the words he heard leave you were heartbreaking. you sounded so defeated.

“i didn’t think we would end like that either. i thought we would never end. i thought that we could get through anything, and be by each other’s side through anything life had in store for us.”

your shoulders felt like they had a large weight on them, physically able to drag you down to the deep depths of the water. it pained you to know how willing he was to make things work with you even through the time that seemed to be the hardest.

“shh, it’s okay.” he hushed down your sobs, pulling from you and holding your cheeks in his palms, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears that refused to stop running down your soft skin.

“i want you to know.. i’m proud of you. for all that you’ve accomplished, you know. i’m so proud of you for reaching your dream.”

it’s the first time you’ve said the words out loud, and it truly felt so good to finally be able to tell him just how proud you were of him, especially with how much time and effort he had put into his passion.

that was your first time smiling that night, even thought it was paired with the messy tears splayed across your cheeks and red puffy eyes , he smiled right back at you. quinn was glad to hear that, even if it wasn’t very direct, your heart still thinks of him always. and then he’s left to wonder if you ever notice the way he kisses the chain you had gifted him on your first year anniversary everytime before he goes on the ice. without ever forgetting, his lips always make contact with the silver, reminding him of one of the dearest people that had stuck with him through all of the cruel training and would take care of him when he ended up overworking himself.

the feeling of having you so close and the sight of the gentle smile on your lips was something quinn never wanted to leave. “i wish we could just start over. but maybe the universe just doesn’t work like that for us..”

“but what if we could try again? what if this time there was no end?”

you notice how his eyes travel between both of yours, then to your lips, and then back to your eyes once more. and the sight of his quivering lips, really the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen the man, has you sucking in a deep breath.

“do you really think we’d be able to make it?”

the hard thumping of your heart grows louder and louder through your ears when he starts leaning in, and you can feel the world around you darkening. the only sight visible being the man sitting right in front of you, and when his forehead lands on yours, you were convinced that you no longer knew how to breathe. “i think we’re worth another try.”

when his hands find their place on your cheeks for the second time that night, this time your eyes flutter closed and you allow your lips to meet his in a slow kiss that you didn’t even know you were yearning for all this time until you actually felt it. it was slow, deep, passionate; every possible emotion was being expressed through the way the two of you kissed each other. your touches clouding your minds until all you can feel is one another. not even the cool breeze in the starry night could be felt anymore.

memories coming back to mind of the same night you shared your first kiss, on the same lake, under the same amount of endless stars, with the same man you loved so long ago. however this time, the both of you are a bit more grown than before.

and now, there is a new memory, where the hope for the two of you is brought back, and the love you once felt so deeply gets to have a second chance.

[alexa-fika]

Threats for One (Crocodile x gn!Pigeon!reader)

Pt1, Pt2

Doflamingo Version

A/N Guys I have been COOKING in this series 🫦🫦, I really love this series and writing more for it but I have no idea what I can keep adding, I don’t want it to be repetitive either. Like I said I really love writing this series or this type of content that is darkish? The type that makes your stomach flutter, so if you have any requests or ideas please let me know 👀 🔪

Dividers by @/saradika

Crocodile sat in his office looking through paperwork until the door slammed open and a hand slammed down in said papers

“I finished your delivery, now give me the antidote,” they sneer

Crocodile stares at them as they slam the door. His stoic expression shifts to an expression of amusement as a smirk spreads across his lips. He remains silent for a moment, staring at them before chuckling to himself

“You’re a feisty one, I give you that… But, that is quite all right. I expected a bit of resistance from you; I will be honest; I was prepared for you to be a bit more of a handful.” He says with a mocking grin upon his scarred face

“Sit down.”

“To hell with that; I did your damn delivery, so give me the antidote.”

“I said you would get the antidote if you did the delivery; I never specified that you would get the antidote immediately. Now sit.”

They growl, pulling out a small dagger and swiftly slashing it over the stacks of papers he had been previously working on, effectively cutting the stack in half

“Give me the antidote, Crocodile, im not playing this damn twisted game with you.”

The stacks of paper collapse to the floor, but the smile on Crocodile’s face remains, albeit it has turned into something darker, more twisted. He eyes them, slowly and steadily standing up.

“So you’ve taken to threats to get what you want?” He draws a long puff of smoke from his cigar as he talks

“Hm, a bold and violent pigeon…, a rather unique specimen you are.” Crocodile walks around the desk, keeping a close eye on them.

“You must understand, Reader, you are an asset to me, one I can’t lose, right?

“Quite the way you treat your assets.”

“Do you think I’ve treated you badly so far?” He questions mockingly

“Perhaps, but only because a bit of rough handling was required on your end in order for you to understand your place.” He states, circling around them

“But in my opinion, I’ve been rather fair to you, even giving you a diluted antidote in good faith in order for you to get in line.”

“My place? You still seem to be under the impression that I am a mere employee and can’t seem to grasp the fact that I don’t work for you; I am not one of your underlings.”

“It seems we are at an impasse. I see myself as your employer and the Cross Guild as your job, and you seem to see yourself as a freelance worker,” Crocodile says as he circles around them until they are behind them

“A pigeon whose wings I can hold ransom and use to my advantage. Is that not what you are to me? And is it not fair that I’m asking you to be a simple messenger for me?” He says, letting out another puff of smoke as Reader turns around to face him

“I’d say it is a very fair arrangement, Reader. I just expect you to do what you are told; not that difficult, is it?”

“Just give me my damn antidote; find yourself some idiot willing to fall for that crap.”

“Is that really how you think this works? That I would just hire some random idiot to take over your deliveries?” He said, shaking his head

“You are rather mistaken; you have a good track record, no issues with deliveries, and I rather like the idea of having such messenger being one of a kind. That is why I need you. Start listening and sit down,” he said, holding the vial at arm’s length

“Or should I show you what would happen otherwise?” he said, bellowing a thick cloud of smoke

“Ne, Reader, are you sure you want to risk it, hmmm?”

They stared at the antidote hanging from his hands, a slip away from falling and, with it all chance of returning their wings to normal

Crocodile looks at them, the smirk and teasing glint in his eyes fading; instead, a serious, stern expression appears in its place.

“If you value those wings of yours at all, you’ll sit down and behave.”

There is a heavy, thick tension in the air as he keeps the antidote just out of their grasp.

“Sit. Down”

They glance desperately at the antidote

“I-I’m the only one of my kind. You destroy that, and you destroy your so-called asset; your deliveries would be canceled or delayed if we’re being hopeful,” they nervously try to reason

Crocodile lets out a chuckle as they talk

“I think you underestimate my influence. I do admire your sense of self-preservation… and the way you just attempted to use it as a bargaining chip, but you have to understand, Reader, what makes you think you are so irreplaceable?” he says as he continues to keep the antidote juts out of their grasp, dangling it in his fingers

“Losing you would delay deliveries, and some bounties and payments would be likely lost, but I would be able to find a replacement, less efficient and slower, but a replacement nonetheless,” he grumbles, lifting one finger of the vial

“Sit… down…”

“Okay! Okay!” They said, slumping down in the chair

“Please, just don’t destroy it; I need my wings back.”

“Finally, a bit of reason…” a slight smirk on his face slowly growing as he sees them comply.

“Now relax; a bit of trust and compliance can take us a long way,” he says taking a seat in his chair once again, staring at the fuming pigeon in front of him

“But this time, you are on a short leash. There will be none of that nonsense again; you are to do as you are told, is that clear, Reader?” he said gingerly, placing the vial on the table next to him, enough to be tauntingly close to them but far enough to be out of their reach

They glance at the vial, not taking their eyes off it as they speak

“Short leash?” They scoff

“You have me on a short leash already, you damn asshole; you gave me a diluted antidote and a time limit to come back.”

“There is a reason for that, little pigeon,” he responds to their scoff, a sadistic grin on his face

“It’s to ensure you come back in a manner that doesn’t involve me ripping your wings off and handing them to you; after all, you could decide to run off as soon as you get your antidote.”

“Besides, it’s only a few hours. Surely an experienced messenger such as yourself is capable of delivering such a simple package in that time frame?”

“You know what im also capable of doing?”

Crocodile’s expression remains unchanged as they continue to talk

“Enlighten me pigeon. What else are you capable of? Do you think you’ll be able to threaten me?”

“Im capable of using that timeframe to fly myself to a navy base; better yet, I could make one final stretch to make it to Marineford, maybe call for a buster call, im sure they will agree, seeing as three former warlords reside in it sending bounties for them”

Crocodile’s smile grows, growing dangerous as the second tick by

He leans back in his chair, taking a long drag from his cigar

“Hm, you are truly unpredictable, and that is very concerning. It seems, that you are going to be a lot more annoying than I already anticipated,” he mutters, letting slip a rather annoyed sigh.

“Try me.”

Crocodile stares at them with a smug, almost mocking grin, his cold eyes looking them up and down.

“Go ahead, go on ahead and try pigeon. I dare you to run off.”

A malicious smirk begins to spread across his face at the thought of them trying to run off

“We both know I’ll just catch up to you in a heartbeat and tear your wings off and string them to my belt before the Marines could even finish blinking.

Do you really not trust me not to have a contingency plan for any attempt to run off? Are you so confident in your ability to outrun me that you would wager your very wings?”

“You can’t be over me 24/7, Crocodile; perhaps I'll just take a detour in one of your deliveries to visit the good ol marines,” they taunt

“Hm, you sure have gained a rather large ego from a minimal amount of independence, Reader; such a shame…” he sighs, shaking his head like a disappointed parent

“You can try to make a detour at the marine base; I’d even welcome it; it gives me more of a reason to teach you your place.” Crocodile’s grimace darkens as he continues

In the blink of an eye, Crocodile had removed the hook and revealed the sharp knife that lay underneath, the blunt weapon now resting in Reader’s neck, tilting up the weapon and forcing them to move along with the knife to avoid getting nicked by the blade

“Or perhaps I should show you another lesson to help with your compliance?”

They glanced down at the knife pointed at them, attempting to back away from it, only to be stopped by a pillar of sand behind them, preventing any escape from the current threat

“There appears to be a slight misunderstanding here, little pigeon…

“You seem to believe you have the ability and the choice to escape? No, no, no, I’m in no mood to let that happen right now. he said as he pressed the sharp blade just a bit harder into their throat, causing a small red drop of blood to fall and roll down to the table

“I’ve entertained this game of yours…, but I fear it has gone on long enough little pigeon.”

“Then give me the antidote, and I’ll be off,” they mutter, wincing at the feeling of the dagger piercing their skin

A look of annoyance, mixed with boredom, fills his eyes as he looks over them

“I do Applaud your attempt, but do you really believe I’d make it that easy for you to gain the item you desire and run away in hopes of never having to serve me again?

Unfortunately, that is simply not how it works, little pigeon; you are a prized possession and asset of mine now. I’m afraid we will have to spend time with this arrangement for a while longer,” he said, grinning once again as he continued leaning closer to Reader as they tried to back away from him, stopped by the pillar of sand

“Truth of the matter is, I don’t trust you, little pigeon. And I don’t plan on letting you get too far off into our game.”

They glare at him, quickly running out of ways to defend their case and obtain their antidote, and both of them were highly aware of who had the winning hand

“Not so eager, are we, little pigeon? What happened to that bravery of yours? That defiance of running away to the Marines.” he smirked

“Let me give you a little tip: sometimes compliance just ends up being the simpler solution to a complex problem… and the easier path is almost always the preferable one,” he said, leaning back against his chair once again, putting their hook back over their dagger the sand pillar behind Reader slowly crumbling to the ground, he swiftly threw a vial and a pack of posters in their direction

They grunted as they easily caught the items

“That’s what I like to see, little pigeon, compliance.” Crocodile’s eyes narrowed once again, the smirk on his face growing wide

“That dilution should be enough to lift the poison for a few hours so that you can deliver those new bounties to the civilians in the neighboring islands.”

They grit their teeth, standing and heading for the door, only to be stopped as Crocodile calls for them once again

“What.” They growl

“Next time you try to pull off something like this again, I will be taking that tongue of yours, so be smart and keep it in your mouth rather than spouting nonsense that will only bring you more punishments.”

They tighten their fists but continue walking, only to once again be stopped by a pillar of sand; they glance back at the perpetrator of their blocked exit

“Am I being Clear?”

“Yes,” they hiss

“Now let me do my job.”

“Seems my ears are failing me. Would you repeat that? Am I being clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

I was thinking of maybe Mihawk appearing on the next part bur idk cause my head is empty so if y’all have any ideas or suggestions on what could happened then maybe I can write another part with mihawk??

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

[abiiors]

hot chocolate ☕ // matty healy x reader

promptober '23 - day 19

a/n: for all my girlies with the big sad, the cold months approach :/ cw: discussions of mental health, mentions of depression wc: 1.1k

matty has a pit of worry in his stomach. he’s had it for about two days now, for as long as the house has been unusually quiet. he’s alone in their dimly lit kitchen, barely any sunlight streaming in. whatever manages to sneak in through the parting of the clouds, gets diluted by the sheets of rain falling from the sky. 

it’s dull and grey. exactly the kind of weather she hates. 

matty gives the brewing pot of coffee another look and decides on abandoning it. 

he knows what he will see when he walks into the bedroom—she will be in bed, in the same three day old pyjamas, messy and unbrushed hair, “taking a nap”. not that he cares about how she looks. it’s just the niggling pit that doesn’t let him sit still. 

“darling?” he calls from the door, watching for any signs of movement under the duvet. “you awake yet?”

she should be, he thinks to himself. it’s nearly noon. he wants to make them some lunch but she doesn’t move, doesn’t reply to his question. matty gnaws on his bottom lip and walks in. 

“i’m making something for lunch…” he says again, sitting by her side of the bed and resting a hand on her back. matty knows she’s not asleep. her breaths are nowhere near deep and even. 

“i know you’re awake,” he says softly, moving his hand to her forehead, checking for any signs of an illness just in case. but deep down he knows the illness is not physical. 

when matty threads his fingers through her hair, it’s not the usual soft and smooth strands he’s met with. his fingers get caught up in the greasy knots, accidently pulling on some hair. she winces.  

“go away, matty, ‘m not hungry,” she mumbles into the pillow, voice feeble and barely audible. “‘m sleepy.”

he tuts. it’s a lie—if he’s right, and he suspects he is, she hasn’t properly slept in days, tossing and turning at night. and yet she has left the bed only a handful of times in the last few days. 

he’s tried giving her space, to let her sort things out on her own because that’s usually what she prefers. but he draws the line at skipping meals. 

“sleep after lunch,” he counters, and goes to draw the duvet off her. 

it’s not even a moment later that matty fliches, appalled when she slaps away his hand. 

“i said i’m not hungry!” she snaps, turning away from him, cocooning herself further, shut off from him, from the world. 

he stills and for a moment the only sound in the room is that of the rain hammering against the window. it’s haphazard, nowhere near a soothing beat. this rain sounds more like an anxious heartbeat—loud, odd and out of sync. 

then he hears the sniffle and his heart breaks. 

“baby…” he approaches again, trying to at least slide the duvet off her face. “hey, look at me please.” 

he doesn’t care that she snapped at him or slapped his hand away. right now, he cares that something is deeply wrong, and he’s ready to beg if that means she’d tell him. 

“g-go away, matty,” she tries again, tries so hard not to let her voice waver or crack and yet he hears it. 

matty decides enough is enough, and pulls the duvet off her entirely. 

her pyjama top is wrinkled and bunched up around her waist, and if he’s being honest, she smells a little bit but he can take care of that later. showers and perfumes and oils can wait. everything else in the world can wait. 

“i won't,” he declares firmly. “now you can either keep fighting me or you can tell me what’s wrong. either way, i’m staying right here.”

she looks at him through dull eyes that widen slightly with every word, jaw clenched to keep her chin from wobbling even as her eyes turn pink first, then watery until the tears fall one by one. matty doesn’t shush her, he just quietly pulls her into his chest, letting her cry it out. 

“i’m so cold…” she says after a few minutes. her voice is already hoarse, a whispery shadow of what it’s like on the good days. today it’s barely more than a squeak. “so cold. all the time. i just…i’m just so tired, i can’t. i don’t know what to do. and whatever i do, i can’t g-get, can’t get warm.”

she breaks into another round of tears by the time she’s done—loud, gut-wrenching sobs that break his heart but he lets her be. his only job is to be there and hold her. he just needs to be the sun.

“i know what will help,” matty mumbles into her hair, pressing a small kiss to her head. “give me two minutes?”

and he does return two minutes later as promised. matty practically makes a mad dash to and from the kitchen, balancing the mugs in his hands and his socks sliding on the wooden floors around the corner. but the liquid in them stays unscathed. 

“there we go,” he announces as soon as he’s back in the bedroom. a tiny pang goes through his chest when he sees her sitting up in bed, arms hugging her middle. she looks small, smaller than he’s ever seen her. but there’s a miniscule spark of curiosity in her eyes. 

he’ll take that spark. he’ll nurture and rekindle it. 

“chef matty’s hot chocolate,” he presents it with a flourish smiling at her raised eyebrow. 

“i know you said you weren’t hungry and you were cold. so i thought this would be a good compromise?”

for a moment she doesn’t say anything, only takes the mug from him and cradles it close, lets the steam waft over her face. hot chocolate won’t do anything for a cold that goes bone-deep. but it’s a start. he can do the rest of the work. 

“take a sip?” he nudges, sitting back in the same spot as before. he brings his own mug up to his mouth, nudging her to mimic him. together they drink their first sip. 

instant sweetness floods his mouth, comforting warmth creeping down his throat and settling into his stomach. he can only hope it does the same for her. 

and he will be there for the rest of it. for all the cold days that come after this. 

lemme know what you think <33

taglist: @scooby-doodoo, @partoftheairforce, @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855@beachesgetpeaches, @you-muppet, @mcabister, @alexmarie29, @at-her-very-foreign, @hfkait, @squishysoupy@sierraeslaprincesa@harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet@thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername@celestcies@sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @zzzhealy @mattymybeloved @fck-off @indiaamars

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[skellyflowers]

Beach Day

Masterlist

Cumulus x reader x Phantom 

It is Thursday and the band has a week off between music festivals so Copia announced to  his ghouls that they were taking a beach trip to unwind. Phantom ran up to me in the chapel cafeteria after he heard the news.

“Papa said we can all bring a friend! So will you go with us? Please?”

He practically begs me. And he gives me his best puppy dog eyes that he can manage with the mask. I can only imagine his face underneath.  If I was alone or in the ghoul’s common areas I would have been hit with full force.

I put my pointer finger to my chin and look like I am really considering his question. My friend Sister Lucy stands next me and lets out a quiet chuckle. Phantom on the other hand is vibrating with anticipation.

“I don’t know Phantom, I might be busy this weekend.” I say sarcastically.

“PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE! ” Phantom shouts, dropping to the ground in front of me and Lucy. Drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Siblings and ghouls alike turned to look at the three of us.

“Ok, ok I’ll go, stop yelling.” I say, face hot with embarrassment because of the attention. Phantom jumps to his feet with a huge smile on his face.

“Yay! Thank you thank you thank you!” Phantom now holding on to my hand and bouncing. At least the others in the room have turned away. “I’ll see you this weekend!” Phantom gives a kiss to my knuckles and runs off.

“I think he is excited.” Says Lucy after the fact.

“Do you really think so?” I ask sarcastically. My cheeks are still warm. 

 We both laugh and head out of the cafeteria after a few minutes. We walk down the hallway until we pass the Library. Lucy stops and I turn to look at her.

“I got to return this book” Lucy says with an annoyed look on her face “Sister Marge has started getting on my case anytime she sees me. I can’t keep dealing with it.”

“Well you better get in there.” I respond “Sister Marge loves her books more than any of us. I’ll see you later Lucy.”

“Good night bestie.” Lucy says and then enters the Library.

I briefly wondered what book she borrowed and long before Sister Marge considered it too long to borrow any of the books. I’ll try to remember the question when I see Lucy again. I probably wouldn’t if I was being honest. Now I need to find something to do until bedtime. I’m not tired yet and I don’t want to go back to the Sister's living quarters just yet. So I keep walking down The Ministry’s halls and I end at the ghoul’s practice room.

I head into the room and look around to see any unmasked ghouls who may be there. I see Swiss and Mountain sitting on one side of the room. Swiss has a guitar in his hands and three young ghouls around him. Mountain has some bongos and two young ghouls watching him carefully.  I didn’t know that they were teaching! That is so cute! I look at the other side of the room and see the ladies, Cumulus and Cirrus. They are sitting at the grand piano talking.

“Hello ladies” I say while walking over to them.

“Hi Sweetie!” Cumulus says happily.

“Good evening.” Cirrus responses, cool as always.

“How are you two? How was practice?” 

“It goes really well when the boys aren’t goofing around.” Cirrus says loudly. I assume she is talking about Swiss.

“It will be nice to have a week off.” Cumulus said, stretching her arms over her head.

“Are you two excited about the beach trip?” I ask. Both ghoulettes turn to look at me surprised.

“How did you know about that? Papa just told us.” Cumulus asked.

“Phantom asked if I would go.” I explain.

“So that’s where he ran off to.” Cirrus says insightfully.

“WHAT?!?!?” Cumulus yelps “I WAS GOING TO ASK YOU!” She crosses her arms and starts to pout. She looks so cute, like a grumpy little cloud.

“What are we yelling about?”

I turn to see the mystery person who has appeared behind me. It’s Aurora. I can't believe I didn’t hear her coming up behind me. She looks at the three of us with curious eyes. Her tail gently waved behind her.

“Our dear sister here can read minds.” Cirrus jokes.

“REALLY! WHAT AM I THINKING RIGHT NOW!” Aurora shouts, putting her fingers to the sides of her head. Her face twisted in concentration.

“She was joking.” I said deadpan.

“Boo that’s boring.” Aurora said clearly disappointed. “But really what did I miss?”

“Phantom invited her to the beach trip.” Cumulus answered, wrapping her hands around my middle and hooking her chin over my shoulder. I try, and fail, to suppress a smile. “I wanted to ask her.” Cumulus pouts again and I feel her tail around my ankle.

“And you said yes sister?” Aurora asked.

“I couldn’t say no when he dropped to the floor and started begging and yelling.”

“Hot.” Swiss yells from the other side of the practice room. I feel my face heat up again.

“And now Lus is pouting because she couldn’t ask her girlfriend first.” Cirrus says connecting all the dots.

“I’m his girlfriend too.” I say, defending Phantom. Cumulus tightens her grip on me a little so reach behind me and try to find her horns so I give them a little scratch. When I found one she started purring.

“Are you two going to invite anyone?” I ask, trying to get the attention off me for a moment.

“I was planning on asking Sunshine.”Cirrus says.

“I want to but I’m not sure the person will say yes to me.” Aurora says looking very unconfident.

“Who were you going to ask? Do I know them?” I asked.

“Well.” Aurora pauses “Yes you do.”

“Who?! Tell me!” Fully giving Aurora my attention. My curiosity overflowing.

“Sister Lucy” She mumbled covering her blushing face after.

“Really! Go ask her. Lucy will totally say yes!” I encourage.

“You think so?” I hear Aurora become a little more confident with her words.

“Of course she will!” My voice is getting more animated. “She is probably still at the Library getting a lecture by Sister Marge.” 

“OK! I’ll go right now!” Aurora says running out of the room.

“So that means our guest list is Sister Lucy, Aether and you.” Cirrus comments.

“What are you doing for the rest of the night Sweetie?” Cumulus asks.

I look around the room to check if there is a clock in the practice room. When I see it the clock reads 10:37 PM. Wow, time really flies.

“I have to go to bed. I’m helping make breakfast tomorrow.” I sigh.

“Can I walk you back to your room?” Cumulus mumbles into my neck.

“Sure. Good night Cirrus.”

“Good night Sister. See you on Saturday.” Cirrus says waving me and Cumulus off.

The walk back to my room was quiet and uneventful. Cumulus put her mask back on and held my hand on the way. Once we made it to my door she lifted it to give me a good night kiss. Then slowly turned to walk back to the ghoul den, I hope she takes it easy on Phantom.

The day of the beach trip finally arrives. I didn’t realize how much I was looking forward to the trip. It would be nice to have a day of leisure. I head down stairs and outside with Lucy. Outside Papa is getting the ghouls ready. I notice that there are two Brothers of Sin helping pack up two large vans. I think their names are Sam and Ivan. I wonder if they are going with us or just helping.

Aurora sees the two of us first and starts waving her arms. Cumulus and Phantom turn to see us walk over to them. Phantom takes our bags and puts them into one of the vans.

“You two ready to go? Papa said we are going to a private beach!” asked Cumulus, giving me a hug.

“I can’t wait!” said Lucy.

Papa did one last head count and we all got into the vans. I was with Lucy, Aurora, Cumulus Phantom, Rain and Ivan. I guess they are going too. The hour and a half long drive was pleasant with very little traffic. And when we get to the private beach we see that there are bungalows like a private resort.

All of the boys get to work unpacking the vans and setting up umbrellas, chairs, blankets and towels. Mountain and Aether also set up two large tents. Me, Lucy and Cumulus claim a large blanket, two umbrellas and three chairs for our area.

“If anyone needs a break we also have the bungalows.” Papa announces.

I take out the dress I was wearing over my black bikini and I feel eyes on me. Unsurprisingly both Phantom and Cumulus are staring holes thru me. I laugh out of embarrassment and Phantom wraps me in a hug from behind and starts to purr in my ear.

“This is nice.” he whispers.

“Thank you”

“I can’t believe you were hiding this from us.” Cumulus purrs in my face.

“Hey! Get a room you pervs!” shouts Aurora. She throws her shirt at us and my ghouls laugh at her. Aurora helps Lucy put sunblock on her back and the two go to the water.

“Let's get you nice and protected” Cumulus says “don’t want to get burnt.”

She and Phantom work together to put sunblock on every piece of visible skin. They were very diligent and even got my ears. After a few minutes of ensuring I was protected from the sun we joined the others in the water.

I stay in the waist deep water and see what the others are doing. Swiss and Aurora are splashing and dunking each other. Dew, Adam and Aether are a ball around. I don’t see Rain but I'm sure he is having a swim under the water. Mountain has dug a hole with Cirrus and Sunshine. I guess they are making a little private pond. Papa sits at the shore under an umbrella watching over all of us.

After floating in the water for a while I make my way back to our spot on the beach Lucy follows after. We both look into the ice chest for snacks and water. 

“So, you and Aurora?”

“Yes! I couldn’t believe she asked me to come with you guys.”

“You two are so cute.”

“Thank you. But I want to take it slow.”

“Don’t be nervous, I did the same.” I reassure her.

Our conversation ends as our ghouls come over to us. They look in the ice chests and join us. As the day passes Mountain starts working on making a fire pit. As the sun goes down the ghouls gather using the fire to cook meat and veggies that were brought in the ice chests. Swiss brings out some marshmallows and chocolate. Phantom burns his marshmallow but still eats it in one bite. Cumulus cooks her marshmallow perfectly and I ask her to cook mine too.

When the night starts to get cold Cumulus, Phantom and I head into one of the bungalows. The inside looks like a one bedroom apartment with a kitchenette and full bathroom. Phantom puts the bags down in the kitchen and I head to the bathroom following Cumulus. I turn on the shower and wait for it to get warm. The shower is big enough for the three of us. It is also a rainfall shower. Nice. Cumulus helps me get undressed and pulls me into the shower. I let out a giggle and Cumulus starts kissing me. 

“You two getting started without me?” Phantom asks, pretending to be upset. 

We pull him between us and start kissing all over his face. After the ghouls started washing me. Phantom puts soap in my body and Cumulus works on shampooing my hair. We all take turns washing each other.  Once we are done Phantom dries both me and Cumulus off then himself.

I am exhausted by the time we make it back to the bedroom. Pulling back the blanket and sheets I get into bed. Phantom gets into bed next to me laying on his back and I cuddled up at his side and put my head on his shoulder. Cumulus lays on his other side and laced our hands over Phantom's tummy. Both ghouls started to purr. I let the vibrations lull me to sleep next to my ghouls.

[giggly-squiggily]

Doodle Boy (Blue Lock)

AND BOOM! We've got ourselves some good ol' Bachisagi! :D I was talking to a dear friend of mine (you know who you are :D) and the next thing I knew- here we are! It's not exactly how we discussed it (honestly it's been so long since we really talked about it I forgot what the original idea was) but I'm proud of it and I think you're gonna like it too!

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@myreygn @cupcake-spice13 @chibisstuff @imjusthere07 @riisada

Summary: Bachira has a knack for drawing and doodles away in his notebook. For all his talent in drawing the people around him however- he can never quite capture his boyfriend.

Bachira grew up surrounded by paint.

The smell of acrylics. The faded stains on his mom’s fingers and clothes when she finished up for the day. The endless paintings of monsters and fields alike she created in her studio. Growing up, he loved sitting by as his mom worked, leaning on his soccer ball with wide eyed wonder.

“You know, Meguru. I have extra supplies- why don’t you join me?” She invited him once, warmth in her smile and green splashed across her cheek.

“Really? I can?” He was on his feet in seconds, running over to her as she pulled down an old sketchbook and pencils, all varying shades of the rainbow.

“Of course you can, baby. Come on- let’s draw some pictures.”

~~~

The pack of gel pens seemed to call to him when he looked- glittering in the fluorescent lights of the drug store.

“Hm? What is it?” Rin blinked, raising a brow when Bachira seemed frozen to the spot. “Do you want them?”

“What? Oh- Oh no. Nah, I just…” He looked at them again, brows furrowed. “I don’t…”

“...” Rin looked at him, then at the pens. Then- with a sigh, he walked over, picking up the pack and a pad of paper sitting below. “If you can’t afford them, I’ll pay.”

“Huh? Oh no- I can-”

“And if you can, I’m still paying. You want them, even if you're too stubborn to admit it.” Without looking back, Rin carried on his shopping, grabbing a bag of chips on the way to the cash register.

Bachira stared after him, eyes feeling strangely wet. Then he smiled, shaking his head and following. “I’m gonna draw you extra pwetty, RinRin~”

“Call me that again and I’m keeping the pens.”

~~~

Bachira tapped an ocean blue pen against his cheek, tongue poking out as he looked down at the paper. Isagi looked back at him.

Well- doodled Isagi. He didn’t quite capture the other boy right- the hair looked smooth and glossy, and his features were all in the right places. There was just something so…lifeless about it. The face was there, but there wasn’t any soul behind it.

Surrounding this particular doodle were others- poses of his fellow and former teammates alike. Chigiri, a human lightning bolt, streaks of pink flying behind him as he dashed across the page. Kunigami, standing tall on the Blue Lock building, a cape fluttering behind him as he struck a superman pose. He even drew Nagi, curled up in a gray futon with purple checkered print.

Aryu striking one of his magnificent poses. Tokimitsu’s nervous but kind expression. Rin melting into water. They all came so easily to Bachira, like he could pluck the image of them out of his mind and smooth them on the page.

And yet…

The door slid open. Bachira shoved the notebook beneath the pillow just as Isagi walked in, a towel around his neck. “Man, if there’s one thing I like here, it’s the baths! I feel so…refreshed.” He spoke between a yawn, cracking one of those impossibly blue eyes open to watch Bachira. “You good? You look like a deer in headlights.”

“Isagi~” Bachira schooled his features into a relaxed expression, grinning as he rolled onto his back, securing his notebook beneath the pillow. “Come cuddle with me.”

~~~

Isagi wasn’t one to pry. If he noticed Bachira’s sudden shyness around his notebook, he didn’t say. None of the team seemed to, if the dribbler were being honest. He’d get a few curious looks his way as he scribbled, but no one formally asked what he was working on or for a peek. It was something Bachira appreciated and grew bummed by. There were other pages he was willing to show, just…not these.

Another Isagi. Another frustrating attempt. He just looked so wrong! Every sketch had something amiss; his eyes were dull in this one, his nose was shaped weird in that, his smile was missing that versatility in it all around. It was just…off!

“Bachira, we’re heading out to dinner-” Isagi poked his head in just as Bachira nearly tore the paper out. “Whoa, what are you doing?”

“Huh? Oh!” Panicked, Bachira tried to shove the notebook away, but it was too late. Isagi was already across the room, resting his hands gently over Bachira’s.

“Dude, relax. I’m sure what you drew isn’t-” Isagi looked down and- paused. Staring. Bachira felt his heart rate accelerate as Isagi took in the slightly crumpled paper, eyes following every line and shape and block of color. His face was unreadable, further worsening Bachira’s anxiety.

“I-Isagi…”

“Bachira…these are incredible!” Isagi looked up, eyes shining as he grinned. “I didn’t know you could draw so well!” He looked back down, smoothing out the paper as he took in the doodled version of himself. “Dude- I look so cool! That..sounded kinda vain, huh?” He flipped the page, blinking when he found more of his face. “Oh wow…”

“D-Don’t look at those!” Bachira tossed himself over Isagi’s lap, hiding the notebook under him as his face burned. “They’re all wrong! Every single one!”

“Wrong? What’s wrong with them- I think they’re great.” His boyfriend poked lightly at his back, trying to peek around him. “And I’m not just saying that cause it’s my face.”

Bachira made a soft noise of distress, burying his face in Isagi’s thigh. Isagi frowned, noting the mood. “Bachira? Are you okay? Oh jeez, was this one of those private notebooks? If so, I'm sorry for prying-”

“No, it’s not…it’s not that.” Bachira sounded muffled, but Isagi could make out his words when he leaned down. “They’re terrible, all of them! I can’t draw you!”

“...I mean, I only got a glance but, Bachira, they look good.” Isagi offered gently, playing with the strands of hair along Bachira’s neck. “I don’t understand- how are they terrible?”

“They don’t look right! None of them really look like you!” The strokes seemed to calm him down some, but Bachira still sounded so…sad. “I didn’t want you to see them until I had you down pat, but…I don’t know why- you’re just too perfect!”

“Pfft!” He hadn’t meant to laugh, but Isagi found himself snorting at the word choice. Bachira gave him a mild pout as his boyfriend pressed his free hand over his mouth. “Sorry- sorry; I’m just not used to hearing someone call me that.” He dropped his hand, smile remaining. “But seriously- you don’t need to draw me perfect. The fact you drew me at all is such an honor! It’s perfect as is.”

Bachira didn’t look convinced, turning away and keeping his pout. Isagi reached up, gently poking his shoulder blade. “Bachira.”

“No.” Bachira huffed, pouting more even when he squirmed. “I don’t want it.”

“Do you really mean that?” When Bachira didn’t respond, Isagi poked him again, making him squirm more. “If you don’t want this, roll out of my lap.”

He paused, waiting. Bachira didn’t move.

“Figured.” He teased, switching to gentle clawing, running his hand across Bachira’s shoulder blades. The dribbler twitched in response, starting to smile despite himself. “You love it when I tickle you. Now- I’m not gonna stop until you let me see that notebook of yours!”

“Noohohohohoo! It’s ehehhembaahhaharassing!” Bachira whined, kicking his feet as Isagi carried on his tickly touch. “Iihihiihihiisahahahahgi!”

“Don’t try to lie- I watch you, you know? I see how pouty you get whenever none of us ask about your drawings! You want to show me!” Isagi pressed in, earning a proper bout of laughter from the smaller boy. “You want to show everyone your work!”

“Ahehahhahhaha! Dooohohohohn’t saahhahahy it ohohoohohutloohohohohud!” Despite his protests, he felt his heart do a little skip knowing Isagi was watching him. He tried fighting back, poking at the brunette’s ribs with quick fingers. “Thahahhake thahahaht!”

“AH!” Isagi yelped, nearly falling over. “Oh you’re slick! Come here!” He wrestled him on the bed, tossing the notebook out of the danger zone as he dug a hand into Bachira’s armpit, earning a squeal. “You’re really gonna get it now!”

“EHEHEHEHEHHEHHEHESAGIHIHIHIHIIHII!” Bachira howled, flailing on the bed beneath his boyfriend. Isagi just HAD to go for the spot right along the back of his pits, tickling both them and his dreadful shoulder blades at once! He’s too knowledgeable- Bachira unintentionally awakened a monster. “PLEAHHAHAHHASE IT TIHIIHIHIHCKLES!”

“That’s the point, buddy.” Isagi cooed, leaning in and pressing a loud smooch into Bachira’s cheek. “You gonna keep shitting on your amazing art or am I gonna have to destroy you?”

“AHEHAHAHHAHA! DOOHOOHN’T THRHEHHAHAHTHEN MEHHEHE WITH A GOOHOHOHOD TIME!” Bachira squeaked out, making Isagi guffaw. It wasn’t long before they were both laughing, side by side in the messy bed as they gasped for air between giggle fits. “Yohoohu’re toohoohohoo good at that!” Bachira fake whined, pinching his boyfriend’s side.

“Ehe! I learned from the best.” Isagi smiled at him, eyes soft and warm and god he looked so kissable right now-

“Mmph!” Isagi made a noise of surprise when Bachira leaned in, capturing his lips with his own. It didn’t take long before Isagi returned the favor, melting against him. “What was that for?” He asked when they eventually broke apart.

“Felt like it.” Bachira grinned before his smile dampened, a shadow passing over his eyes. “Do you…really mean it?”

“About? Oh.” Isagi blinked, shaking out of his brain fog. “About your art? Absolutely!” Reaching back, he pulled the notebook over, handing it to Bachira with a patient smile. “You don’t have to show me now- but I do think your work is amazing. There’s so much…you in it, you know? Like- just that one piece alone- that’s what the artsy folks call it right? A piece? Anyway- looking at it, I could feel you in it- like you were using your soul as ink. I know it’s me- but I felt like we were one in that moment.” He smiled a bit awkwardly, scratching his cheek. “That sounded really pretentious now, didn’t it?”

Bachira couldn’t speak. He couldn’t find his voice. His vision suddenly grew very blurry.

“Bachira? Oh my god- I’m so sorry! I meant it in a good way! Please, don’t cry.” Isagi sounded panicked, reaching out and wiping the tears falling down his boyfriend’s face with his thumb. “I’m sorry.”

“N-No, no it’s not-” Bachira sniffed, smiling through the tears. “I’m so happy…I’m just-really, really happy right now.” Isagi’s face relaxed, and he leaned in to kiss Bachira’s wet cheeks. “That means more than you know, Isagi. Thank you.”

Isagi smiled, cheeks warming with pride. He leaned in to kiss him properly before starting to sit up. “We should get dinner before they close the cafeteria. Care to join me?”

Bachira laughed, sitting up and putting his notebook back in its usual place. “I’d love to.” He took Isagi’s outstretched hand, letting himself be pulled up and escorted, hand in hand. “And I love you, Yoichi.”

The other looked back at him, eyes dancing. His smile nearly split his face from how happy he looked. It never failed to take Bachira’s breath away. “I love you too, Meguru.”

Later that night, Bachira finally drew his perfect Isagi- smiling the way he did in that moment.

Thanks for reading!

[that-one-depressed-author]

I can’t really believe that I’m posting this at…

*checks time*

1:47 AM!

But, I’m tired of being silent and now have the motivation and energy to come forward!

I’m here to share my experience with Melody (yanderelmk)!

Let it be known that I could not write, draw, or even look at myself in the mirror after this happened for a good month!

Hello, everyone! Those of you from the Yandere!LMK Discord Server may remember me as Goat! In this post, I will be discussing my experience with the server and its owner, Melody. I want to go ahead and tell you all to not bother Melody or her blog, instead, go straight for the block button. This post is just meant to be a cautionary tale and hopefully provide insight and validation to those she is near or has hurt.

Here's a bit of context to the events leading up to my ban from Melody’s server. I had been stalking Melody’s blog for a little bit before I joined the server, and when I saw the Shauna situation, I felt like I needed to respond. I also have extreme bipolar disorder and ADHD, and even I didn't respond the way Shauna did. So, after making an anon emoji combination for Melody’s blog, I joined the server.

When I joined, I was a social anxiety-ridden mess, but I was welcomed with open arms. My own trauma from past friend groups clouded the already well-hidden red flags. Looking back, I noticed some things.

I noticed that when I first joined the server, everything I sent (drawings, writings, character-inspired makeup, etc.) was showered with love and praise. But the longer I was there, it slowed to a stop. Meanwhile, everyone who was close to Melody and in her inner circle got most of the attention and praise. I may be petty, but I am not jealous.

I noticed that Melody did little to talk about people causing problems and simply watched from the side. When someone was saying that their character would unalive mine because I shipped mine with the same character, Melody said nothing to stop it in the channel. But, later during a private call, she admitted she was watching it happen and didn't know whether or not to step in. As the server owner, she and her moderators should try and keep the peace when she sees something wrong.

And finally, I noticed that Melody had a bad habit of bringing up things that happened somewhere else where they didn't need to be brought up. Which leads me to my next topic: the events leading up to and the reason for my ban.

A little while before my ban, someone (I don’t remember who) had sent some Twitter fan art of the LMK characters as FNAF animatronics. And we all reacted positively, a few of us including myself talking about making it an AU.

So, Melody hosted a role play. I had used one of my OCs for this little role play, mainly her human design. We went for a few hours and when we had to stop, it was six in the morning.

Now, I had not slept for the past two days and was ready to pass out on my couch after a few after-role-play messages. I believe we had started talking about what our OCs would be like in a FNAF!AU and I had brought up one of my ocs whom I made with a group of friends and was the embodiment of lust.

Someone had mentioned and compared my OC to Asmodeus, the biblical king of lust. In my delirious, sleep-deprived state, I had incorrectly worded my message. I had said that I would say Asmodeus was a former sin of lust and my OC was the current one.

This was not what I had meant, I had meant using the name Asmodeus as a reference, not the actual biblical figure. And even then, I would have shortened it to make it even more of a reference. (ex: Ozzie, Azzy, Moudes, etc.) But, for some unknown reason to me, Melody had an issue with this.

She started an argument with me about how Asmodeus was from Christian religion and that it was offensive to Buddhism or something. I’m gonna be honest, the details are a bit fuzzy. In an effort to make me look like the bad guy, she brought up another set of OCs me and my friend group had made that were based around the Ten Commandments. (Also, I didn’t even use the biblical Ten Commandments because those are paragraphs, I used the ones from the Seven Deadly Sins anime!) These OCs were mentioned in that same private call outside the server!

Melody, being more awake than me, sent several messages in quick succession, not allowing me to get a word in or get my thoughts together. And as always, the person who could get more of a word in wins. Me, being half awake and ready to fall asleep, told Melody I was going to bed and would continue to talk about this later because I was tired and didn’t feel like arguing with her.

I woke up at around five in the afternoon and decided to go into the server and apologize for how I acted and let Melody know I was ready to talk. Only to find the server missing from the list.

Confused, I went to check Melody’s Tumblr blog to see if something happened or if I was banned by mistake. Instead, I found that Melody had made a post about banning me over a picrew I had made.

I will admit, the picrew was BDSM themed and it did include Nezha. But, I was not the first person to send it nor was I the only one who participated. Melody herself participated with one of her OC and Macaque. I will also admit that I forgot to spoil the picrew I made due to being tired.

However, I am not here to get into the ‘NeZhA iS tWeLvE’ debate. I'm here to share what I experienced with Melody and her server.

Here's what could've been done instead of straight-up banning me: talking to me about the image and asking me to spoil or delete it! I was given no warning of my ban, only waking up to it and seeing the post about it! She had made no effort to message me or inform me!

Alright, now that you have all of the info and my side of the story, time for a little analysis. I am a major psychology lover due to my own mental problems and I adore learning about the human mind.

Melody’s two nicknames in her server are ‘Queen’ and ‘Mother’. She is not either of these things.

A queen looks after her subjects, a mother looks after her children. Melody, on the surface, appears to look after the people in her server. But as someone who's seen beneath that surface and experienced people like this long before I met her, she is anything but.

Melody invites people into her server, welcomes them, and smothers them with affection. Then, when they aren't so new anymore, she winds to a stop and focuses on the people in her inner circle.

Melody watches over above, looking at everything and everyone in her server with the eye of a hawk. Waiting and biding her time for them to give her a reason.

Then, when she gains that person’s trust, makes them let down their walls around her, she sees them do something she doesn't like, and she finally has her reason. She strikes.

She removes them from the safe environment she builds around them and feeds them to the wolves. She takes mentally unwell people and puts them in an unsafe environment where they can be harmed.

She wounds them so they aren't thinking straight and baits them to lash out with posts on her Tumblr blog so she can paint herself as the victim. And once they do lash out, she links the places where people can attack them in the form of a ‘call-out’.

Have you noticed the fact that everyone Melody bans and posts about, deletes their blog? Now, I am not excusing these people's actions. But, no one should be put in an unsafe environment where they can be harassed and threatened.

In fact, I’m sure I would’ve been in a similar situation had I not gotten a hold of a close friend of mine. She comforted me, calmed me down, and distracted me from Melody. Her support and love allowed me to be the bigger person and not respond, blocking Melody and removing the problem.

But, I’m stubborn and tired of being the bigger person.

Melody is a manipulator and an abuser.

Let my story be a cautionary tale on these kinds of people. And, don’t harass Melody over this. If you do, you’re no better than her. Instead, go straight for the block button.

[millersdjarin]

I Only See Daylight - 18

Chapter Eighteen

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!AFAB!Reader

Rating: E (18+!)

Chapter Length: 6.8k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: SMUT, piv sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, tenderness, anxiety, helmetless!din, injury recovery, rough but loving sex, accidental bruising (din holds reader just a little too tight during sex), aftercare

Previous Chapter | Series Masterlist & Info | Full Masterlist

i don't wanna think of anything else now that i thought of you (things will never be the same)

Something is on Din’s mind. 

You’ve been aware of this for a few days, to be honest. But after last night, it seems…bigger. Like a cloud over his shoulders. Whatever it is, he’s holding it back from you. 

You want to ask, want to make sure he knows he can tell you anything. But you’re so scared of what the answer might be. Because you know, or think you know, that it’s probably you. He’s probably mad at you; sick of your nightmares keeping him awake, making you so needy. You’ve been waiting for days to hear from Fett about the plan, the meet point. Maybe Din is just nervous about that, but even then, he wouldn’t have to deal with any of that if it wasn’t for you. 

So, you don’t ask. Because the answer scares you. Because you don’t want him to feel like he has to lie to you. 

-

Din didn’t sleep again, last night. He was drifting in and out of something like sleep before you started screaming his name in your sleep. Your voice was heavy and cracking with anguish, in a way he’s not quite heard before, not even when you were hurt and crying out from the pain. It had jolted him right into alertness, and he’d forgotten that he was trying to sleep, that sleep was even something he needed; all that mattered was making sure you were okay. 

And, after a while, you were. You drifted off again, and didn’t have another nightmare. Your breathing was even, calm, your hand clasped in Din’s over your chest. 

Still, though, he hadn’t slept. He’d watched you, put his helmet back on so he could hear unexpected noises or scan any oncoming danger. Because it’s his fault. The nightmares that are plaguing you, drawing screams so guttural and terrified from your perfect throat, wouldn’t be happening if he was able to protect you. If he was able to make you feel safe enough that you could sleep through the kriffing night. 

He has to fix this. He needs you to know that you’re safe. That nothing is going to touch any of you again. 

The problem, though, is that the more he obsesses over this, the more scared he’s getting. 

And it’s all he can do to desperately try and stop it showing. Until he figures out how to make this right, he makes a promise to himself to do anything that you need. To stay up all night, if that’s what will mean you can sleep through it. To hold you when you need him, to tell you that none of this is your fault, because he can still see the guilt in your eyes every time your nightmares wake him up, or the topic of your family comes up. 

This is what he was raised to do. To care for others before himself; shirk all his own wants and needs. And he’s always been very, very good at it. 

This feels different, though. It’s never driven him to this level of fear before.

And he’s never been this tired.

-

You’ve never been this tired. 

Technically, maybe, you have. Being tortured your entire childhood will do that. But it never felt like this. 

Or maybe it did. Maybe you’ve just gone soft since then. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You ask Din after he’s checked your wounds. They’re doing a lot better now. Still painful, but you can move properly, and the exercises from the doctors aren’t feeling like torture anymore. 

Din doesn’t look at you, packing away the med supplies. He’s got his helmet on. “I’m fine,” he tells you, “I already told you.” 

“I know, I just…” you look him all over, the white bathroom light shining off the silver of his beskar, and sigh softly. “You’d tell me if there was something wrong, wouldn’t you?” 

He turns to you. Finally. Takes a step closer, reaches out a gloved hand to brush the backs of his fingers down your cheek. It’s such a fleeting touch but it’s lovely. Always so lovely, whatever he gives you. “You don’t have to worry about me,” he says softly. He sounds convincing, but you’re not sure if you believe him. “How do you feel?” 

You take hold of his wrist, bringing his hand back up to your face. Gazing up into his visor, you say, “Good. I’d be even better if you’d get over here and kiss me.” He looks so good. All tall and broad and shiny and strong. You remember the curve of his  bare stomach, remember thinking how badly you wanted to kiss it.

A soft chuckle comes through the modulator. His thumb strokes across your cheek, and you tilt your head, kissing the inside of his wrist. “Kid needs to eat.” 

Over-dramatic, you sigh. “Tonight, then?” 

“Tonight what?” 

You stand up, just a foot away from him. Gazing as deeply into his visor as you can, you bite your lip, lowering your voice, “I just really want you to fuck me again.” 

Something like a shaky breath releases from his chest. “Cyar’ika,” he sounds like he’s holding himself back, “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you…” 

“It’s been too long,” you step even closer, so close that your nose is brushing against the beskar of his helmet, “I need you. You promised me it wouldn’t be the last time.” 

“I meant it,” he replies right away, cupping your cheek in his hand. “You know I meant it. I just…your injuries…” 

“You said they’re looking better, right? And you know I’m moving around more. I can lie on my back now. Though, I could always go on my front…” 

You could swear you see a shudder run down his spine. It makes you grin, fills you with a new confidence. He pushes his forehead into yours, slides his hand to the nape of your neck. “On one condition,” he whispers.

“Anything.” 

“You have to tell me if it’s too much. If I’m hurting you.” 

You nod and kiss his forearm. “I promise,” you whisper. 

The bathroom door hisses open before either of you can say anything else. You turn around, and Grogu is standing there, gazing up at both of you with a tilted head. 

“Dinner time,” Din says, a smirk in his voice. He steps past you to the door, runs his hand over your waist as he goes, and leans down to scoop Grogu in his arms. “Come on. Let’s eat.” 

With the promise of tonight now hanging beautifully in the air, you follow him up the ladder. 

-

“How much do you still hurt?” Din asks, climbing up the bed towards you after closing the door behind him. 

You wrinkle your nose. “It’s…getting better,” you say.

He settles beside you, propping himself up on his elbow. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says softly. “We don’t have to do this now.” 

“Din,” you reach up, put your hand on his pouldron. “I literally need you. It’s been too fucking long.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“We already covered this. Are you trying to get me to beg?” 

“That depends. Would you?” 

“You know I would. I have.” 

He chuckles softly. “And it never gets old.” 

You gaze up into his visor, bringing your hand up to touch the side of his helmet. You search the black screen that’s between your eyes, wanting to meet his gaze directly, see into his mind and his soul, read his expression. That cloud is still around him, and you make it your mission to clear it by the end of this. 

As if reading your mind, he takes a gentle hold of your wrist and moves your hand away. Then he lifts his helmet. 

It’s like a rush of ice water running down your neck. Every time he does this. Every time you look at him. You wonder if he can see it in your eyes; the thrill, the adoration. The fact that he’s so fucking hot it makes you throb all over at the mere sight of him, even before he’s taken his helmet off, let alone now. 

His lips are on yours in a second, a hand taking a gentle hold of your face, tilting it just right towards him. It’s never lost on you, the weight of this; that the lights are on, you can open your eyes whenever you want, that he trusts you enough. 

You let your hand run over his jaw, up his cheek, then slide your fingers back into his hair. You pull on it slightly, bunching it into your fist, and he moans softly in approval. A second later, his tongue pushes gently at yours, testing the waters. You accept it eagerly. Push yours against his, sliding them together with each movement of your lips, each time he opens his against yours. His breathing and the sound of the kiss is all you can hear, so loud in the quiet of the room, so intimate. 

His hand moves from your face, down your arm to your wrist, then back up from your waist to your ribs. He splays his fingers like he’s trying to touch as much of you as possible. You’re still on your back when he starts to prop himself up further, curling himself over the top of you, covering you like a wall of safety that you never want to step out from behind. 

When he pulls away, your lips try to chase him for a second before you open your eyes into his. He’s just gazing down at you, and there’s something in his expression. His brow is furrowed, eyes just a touch wider. It feels like you’re catching a glimpse at the feelings behind his mask for just a moment.

“You okay?” You ask him, stroking your thumb over his ear lobe.

Not breaking your shared gaze, he nods. “Just,” he says, “missed you. Like this.” 

“You and me both,” you say with a smirk, tugging him close again. 

Before he kisses you, he stops, presses your nose together. It’s like he doesn’t want to close the distance. His hand on your ribs is so gentle, almost feather-light. His breath catches. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I just—” he falters. Licks his bottom lip, thinking. Like he’s trying to work out how to say what’s on his mind; or if he wants to say it at all. You just wait, your hand stroking over his hair. Eventually, he sighs softly, “It’s been a rough few weeks.” 

There’s a pang in your chest. You feel your forehead wrinkle, your grip on his neck tightening. “Yeah,” you whisper. “It has.” 

“Are you sure you’re okay for this? I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart. I know how much pain you’ve been in. We can just kiss. That’s enough for me, you know that, right?” 

You nod, then shake your head, tightening your grip on the back of his neck. “It’s enough for me, too,” you promise, “but I want more. I can handle more.” 

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure.” 

“We can stop, if it gets too much,” he assures you; not that you really needed to hear it. You already knew. 

“Din,” you whisper, “I’m not fragile. I know you’re just trying to protect me. But I need this. I need you.” 

He nods, looking down at you. 

A smirk twitches at your lips. “Besides, if you want me to beg for you that badly, all you have to do is ask. You don’t have to skirt around it; you’re usually so good at being direct.” 

He chuckles. His breath is warm on your face as he dips his head, shakes it a little. “I won’t complain if you want to beg,” he says eventually, pressing a kiss to your chin. 

“Will you give it to me if I do?” You tease. 

When he meets your eyes again, he’s serious. “I’ll give you anything you want,” he says, just a whisper. A prayer upon his lips, brushing over yours. “Anything you need. Anything. Always.” 

And, oh. You know he means that. With every inch of him, he means that. It hits your chest, heavy and permanent. You’re scared of it and you love it. 

“In that case,” you mask your intense adoration for him with a teasing smirk and hook your leg over his hip, pulling him further down on top of you, “I want you to take me however you want. Take me hard. Like that first time. You know that’s how I like it.” 

He moans. His face falls, lands on your shoulder. “I can’t.” 

“You can. I want you to fuck me until I can’t feel anything else.” 

“You’re going to kill me,” he whines. 

Laughing, you stroke the back of his head. “I’d rather make you feel alive,” you tell him. 

He laughs, too, all breathy and beautiful into your neck. Then he pulls away, sitting back on his heels. He looks down at you and bites his lip, his eyes glancing over your body, to the space between your legs, back to your face. “I want to do something,” he says. “Tell me if you don’t want it.” 

“What is it?” 

“I want to taste you,” he confesses, and the eye contact is a lot as he says it; so intense and searching that you couldn’t break it if you tried. “It’s alright if you’re not comfortable with it. I just…”

You’re nodding before you realise it, just a little frantic, “I am,” you tell him quickly, hurriedly, “I’m—I want that. If you do.” 

His eyebrow twitches up, a smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah?” He’s crawling closer. Gently pushing your legs apart. Still looking you in the eyes. 

“Yes,” you breathe. “Kriff, Din, I really want that.” 

He puts a hand under each of your knees. Carefully he bends your legs, planting your feet firmly on the bed, your legs effectively caging him in. He stares at your core where you’re already pulsing, already soaking. “Wanted this for so long,” he says. His voice is low, husky. Fucking gorgeous.

You squirm. “Me too,” you tell him. “Come on, Din, please.” 

“There’s that begging,” he smiles. He settles himself between your legs, then tugs experimentally at the waistband of your trousers. “Can I?” 

“Yes. Kriff, yes.” 

It takes a bit of shuffling to get them off, especially followed by your panties, in the small confines of this bed. But they’re on the floor soon and then he’s settling for good, his eyes not leaving your pussy, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.

He rests one of his hands on your lower stomach. “Relax for me,” he says softly. “If you start to hurt, tell me. I’m relying on you for that, okay?” 

You nod, taking hold of your knees to hold them apart for him. You stare up at the ceiling for a moment before closing your eyes. 

“I’ll give you what you need, sweetheart. Always.” Then, there’s the warm, slow press of his lips against your inner thigh. His breath is so hot, brushing against your leg hairs, tickling a little. His mouth trails up, pressing feather-light, purposeful kisses along every inch he gets closer to your centre. Just as he gets there, when you’re expecting his mouth on your heat, holding your breath for it, he moves to the other leg first. Starts at the inside of your knee, works his way up with kisses. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs. The vibration of his voice goes right to your clit, somehow. 

You all but whine. “Din,” you whisper, “please.” 

“I’ve got you. Take it easy.” 

You’re trying not to squirm too much; it hurts your back. But, Gods, he’s breathing against your pussy, so hot and delicious and yet not enough. 

But then, he’s there. 

His nose pushes at the hood of your clit, and then his hand, holding it up so he can stare right at the bundle of nerves, licking his lips. You glance down at him, but have to look away. It’s too much. He’s too fucking much. Seeing his head between your legs, his pupils blown with desire at the mere sight of your heat, is too fucking much. 

His tongue darts out, presses once against your clit. Just testing. Teasing. 

It’s a lot. A spark of pleasure goes up from your core to your fingertips and toes and back. You gasp, your head throwing back against the pillow. “Do that again,” you say, “please.” 

Only too happy to oblige, he does. Except this time, he doesn’t pull his tongue back into his mouth; he licks your clit in slow circles, gathering wetness there from his own spit. You can feel yourself pulsing against his mouth, feel the stretch of your hood where he’s pulling it up and out of the way. He’s using his thumb to spread your lips, dipping it into your wetness, teasing at your entrance.

Your fists bunch into the sheets, wishing you could reach down and take hold of his hair without it hurting. 

His lips close around your clit, then, and he starts to suck. With the tongue still there. 

Holy fucking kriff, your back is arching up off the bed, rubbing in the sheets as your hips buck up into him, and—

Ow.

You gasp as pain shoots from one of your larger wounds. He instantly recognises it as a different kind of gasp—not one of pleasure, but of pain—and pulls away, eyes meeting yours in a second. “You okay?” He asks. His mouth and chin are soaking fucking wet. Gods.

“I’m fine, I just—” You could lie and tell him to keep going. But it hurts. It really hurts. And you promised him. “My back. It hurts. But, fuck, Din, that’s so good I don’t want you to stop…” 

He presses his wet lips to the inside of your thigh. Gently, he moves his hand from your pussy, letting it relax. “I’ll do this for you again,” he promises, a whisper so close to your heat yet so far, “but not now, okay?” 

You wish you could protest. But he’s right. And you want this to be good for both of you, want to have him inside you; if you tell him to keep going, let the pleasure overtake the pain for the sake of it, you’re not going to enjoy the rest. And neither will he. 

So instead, you just nod, and lean up to take hold of his face in your hands. You kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips. A whine escapes your mouth into his. 

He kisses you back in earnest, bringing his dry hand up to stroke strands of hair from your face. 

“Sorry,” you whisper when you pull away. 

“For what?” 

“That I had to stop.” 

“You know it’s alright. I’m glad you told me, Cyar’ika. You know how much that means to me?” 

Biting your bottom lip, you nod. You keep your forehead against his, holding onto the back of his neck like a lifeline. “I do.” 

“You want to keep going?” 

“Yes. I’ll lie differently.” 

He kisses your nose. “On your side? Your front?” 

“I like the sound of my side, but not right now,” you give him one quick kiss before you’re rolling over, only stopping halfway as a sudden wave of self-consciousness creeps in around you. 

“You okay?” His hand sits gently on your hip. 

“Yeah. Just—this is new.” 

He leans down, presses a long kiss to your shoulder. “We don’t have to.” 

“I want to,” you say, tilting your head to meet his lips for a second. Then, gathering all your courage, you roll right over so you’re flat on your front, feeling your ass and the wetness spread around your pussy on show, cool air hitting your skin. You make yourself relax, your head on its side against the pillow, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. 

“Kriff,” Din breathes out, his hand softly rubbing one side of your ass. He’s gazing down at you. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, a heavy blush creeping onto your cheeks. “You’re so fucking perfect.” 

A smile twitches at your lips. You wiggle your butt. “Come on, Mando. Stop teasing me.” 

A soft chuckle, then you feel his lips on the base of your spine, just below where your shirt ends. You gasp softly at the sensation; a small part of you wants to just rip off your shirt and let him kiss all the way up your back, wounds and scars be damned. 

But you’re throbbing, and you don’t want to spend this time trying to get over your insecurity. 

Din crawls up the bed so he’s lying beside you, keeping his hand on your ass. You open one eye and find him above you. He leans in, captures your lips in a kiss, and while he sighs into your mouth, his finger dips between your legs, teasing at your entrance—

You moan, melting into the sheets. You push your ass up, giving him better access, spreading your legs just a little. It’s not exactly the most comfortable thing, given the weakness of your back and arm muscles, but then—

“Here,” he whispers before leaning away. He grabs a pillow, carefully slides it under your pelvis. As you rest down onto it, you feel yourself relax more, your pussy just hanging over the edge of the pillow with plenty of space beneath it for him. “Better?” 

“Much.” 

He kisses your cheek, and continues his motions. Slides his whole hand over your cunt, curving it so his fingers are brushing your clit, the heel of his palm pressing and squelching against your soaking entrance. You breathe out, sheer relief at the pressure, the contact. His hand is warm, so warm, and he knows just how to touch you. Gently, teasing, just soft little circles with the very tip of his finger. Each press of it brings his palm against your wetness, and you hear it as well as feel it, so loud in the quiet of your quarters. 

“You always feel so good,” he tells you, a whisper so close to your ear as he presses his lips to your shoulder. “So hot and wet for me. Could just touch you like this all the time, Mesh’la. You’re perfect.” 

“It’s perfect,” you say. Your eyes close as his fingers press harder, and then move down through your folds, his palm coming away from you but his fingers just about pushing inside you. “Din, fuck…” 

He hums into your shoulder. Two of his fingers slide in, careful but delicious. You can feel the ridges of his knuckles, feel the slight stretch as he scissors them just a little. 

Your hips try to grind down, to find friction against your clit. But it’s hanging over the edge of the pillow and you can’t find purchase without moving your hips away from his fingers, so you just relax, revel in the press of his digits inside you. He hooks them down, finds that spot. You gasp. “Fuck, Din, that’s so good…” 

“Yeah?” His voice is so husky, low and sweet like the sticky molasses you used to eat as a child, covering your skin in goosebumps, “I’ve missed this, Cyar’ika. Missed touching you like this.” 

“Mm,” you hum in agreement, pushing your hips back into him, urging him to get deeper. There’s only so far his fingers can go, but he tries to get there. “Missed this. Missed you. I wish I could look at you while we do this.” 

“Me, too,” he whispers. “Soon. Can’t risk hurting you.” 

“I know.” 

He moves his fingers in and out a little, slow, testing. It’s not enough. You need to be stretched, need to feel him, every perfect inch opening you, pounding you into the mattress, no matter how hard he has to do it to get you to feel it. 

“Din,” you say, suddenly breathless, “Please. Need you.” 

“I know, I need you too,” he soothes as his lips trail to the back of your neck. Your pussy is throbbing, clenching around him as your clit goes untouched but desperate. “Are you ready?” 

“Yes. Please.” 

He kisses your lips, then, close-mouthed and tender. It says everything you need to hear, and more. 

There’s a soft smile on your face as he shuffles away, and you open your eyes to see him taking off his flight suit and underclothes. As each inch of his skin is revealed, you could swear you grow even wetter. You can practically feel yourself dripping onto the bed below you.

Because, kriffing hells. It’s not even been that long since you saw him naked, but it is the first time you’ve seen him like this—while you’re lying below him, open, aching, and waiting, ready for him to fuck you. While he’s naked. In the light. 

Fuck, you wish you could lie on your back for this. 

His lips are on the back of your neck again. “Can you hold yourself up a little?” He asks, smoothing his hand over your ass like it’s his current favourite place. 

You nod and shuffle upwards, planting yourself on your knees but folding your arms on the pillow and using them to rest your forehead on. You’re angled downwards, ass in the air, the cold breeze making you painfully aware of just how ready you are for him. 

“Gods,” he whispers, his voice trembling, “look at you.” 

“Don’t rub it in that you can look at me and I can’t look at you,” you say with a teasing smirk, glancing at him over your shoulder. 

You catch a glimpse of his smile. He leans to the side so you can see him, reaches out his other hand to brush some hair back from your face. “When you can see me for this, I promise I’ll make it worth it,” he says. He moves again, almost out of sight, but it’s okay because he’s taking your ass in both hands now and spreading you open, your cunt making a slick sound as your folds pull apart with the light pressure. His thumb dips down, teases at your entrance. “You’re perfect.” 

“So you’ve told me. Fuck me, please.” 

He chuckles. You feel him move on the bed behind you, and then, fuck. The head of his cock slides through your folds, your wetness. Gently probes at you, pushing just the tip in. Your entire body aches, but not from the wounds. From the sheer fucking need for him to be inside you for real, to fucking take you, to make you forget everything else. 

“’M ready,” you murmur before he asks, shimmying your butt back into him. “Please, Din. Don’t make me wait.” 

He doesn’t. He pushes inside you, slow but firm, making sure you feel every gorgeous inch of the slick slide. He buries himself to the hilt, then spreads himself out across you, barely holding himself up off your back. You can feel the heat of his entire body. He wraps an arm under your hips, holds you up and pulls you even further around his cock. 

“Oh, fuck…” Your eyelids flutter closed as you get used to him. It’s been too fucking long. 

“Kriff,” he curses in your ear. “Fuck, Cyar’ika, you feel so fucking good.” 

“Mm,” you hum your agreement. “Please, fuck me.” 

With a kiss to your earlobe, he does exactly as you ask. Except he’s going slow, dragging his cock back through your wetness, so unbelievably slick and hot as he pulls out with a pop. Then he’s back in again, slow as ever, burying himself right inside you. The head of his dick brushes against your cervix, but you barely feel it, he’s being so gentle. 

At first, it’s nice. Lovely, actually. Just feeling every part of his dick, revelling in the slow strokes he makes in and out. It’s intimate. He’s kissing your neck, his mouth open and messy but purposeful. The arm wrapped around your hip is firm, steady. Holds you in place without you having to strain yourself.

But the arousal in your stomach is only growing. It was already lit aflame, but now it’s blazing, your pussy absolutely throbbing around him, desperate to feel more, faster, harder.

“Din,” you whisper, and his face is right up against yours, “Din, please. Not gonna break. Need to feel you.” 

He kisses the apple of your cheek. “Are you sure?” 

His cock bottoms out again, so gentle, lovely but not enough. “Please.”

A long, warm press of his lips to your shoulder as he stills inside of you for a moment. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs. “Alright?” 

“I promise. I promise. Just—please.” 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” 

Then, he picks it up. He leans back from you just a little, enough to properly brace himself on his arm where it sits on the bed beside you. His other arm stays around you, and he uses it to go with his thrusts, pulling back your hips to meet his as they reach the height of each push. It doesn’t take him long to find a pace and set it. It’s fast, just hard enough that you feel his balls slap against your folds and hear each hit of his skin on yours. You clench your hands in the sheets, bury your teeth in your forearm as his cock hits the highest point inside of you. 

“Fuck, Din, that’s so good,” you manage to say, just panting, words stuttered by each of his thrusts—

“Feels okay?” He grunts, like he’s still holding himself back a little. 

“Feels so fucking good. Doesn’t hurt, I promise. Din, fuck me harder, make it hurt, make me feel it, missed this so much—”

As his open mouth finds the curve of your shoulder again, he does exactly what you ask him to do. His thrusts get impossibly harder, hips snapping into yours so intensely that it bounces you up the bed. Momentarily, you thank the stars that you thought to roll over, because this would have hurt your back if you’d been lying that way—and you only want it this rough. 

He pulls back after a moment, lifting himself off of you. His arm comes out from under your hips. “Touch your clit, Mesh’la,” he tells you as he grabs your hips in each hand, holding you tight and hard and using it for leverage, fucking you back onto him. 

Only just managing to move your arm through each hard thrust, your finger finds your clit. 

Holy kriff. 

Pleasure ignites under your skin, inside your bones, deep in your core. You cry out into the pillow, almost lose your balance for a second when he thrusts particularly hard and your arm isn’t in the same place to catch you—

But his grip on your hips is so hard that it keeps you in place, counters the shake of your knees. 

“Kriff, fuck, Din, that’s so good, that’s just how I want it—” Every push and pull of his cock is downright filthy, squelching in the small room, his moans filling your ears like the best fucking song you’ve ever heard.

“Feels good, baby?” 

“So fucking good—”

“You’re so good. Look at you, kriff—just taking it so well, bouncing on me like this, you’re amazing—”

The whimpers coming from your throat couldn’t possibly convey how he’s making you feel. Pleasure, unreal and unbridled, is coursing through your veins, starting at your core and spreading through your entire body. It’s Din, he’s so hot, he’s holding your hips so tight that it hurts and is probably leaving bruises, losing all control as his thrusts start to stutter like he’s only just holding himself back from coming—

“Come for me,” he tells you, his voice just a breathy pant. He sounds like he’s begging. “Come for me, Mesh’la. Wanna make you feel so good. Come on, baby.” 

Your finger gets harder against your clit, blending with the pleasure-pain of his thrusts so fucking perfectly that you start to feel it, the tightening coil low in your belly, overwhelming pleasure coming over you like the very first crest of a huge wave—

“Oh, Din,” you pant, “Din, baby, I’m coming.” 

He groans. He bends himself over you again, as best as he can without losing his grip on your hips. “Feels so good, baby. I can feel you all around me. Just want you like this all the time, so hot and tight and—kriff.” 

Your orgasm reaches its high fast, stays there as you bounce quick and hard and deliciously on his cock. Your finger slows against your clit as it becomes too much, the drop coming for you all of a sudden, waves and pulses of pleasure overtaking you from the inside out. 

“Kriff, sweetheart, I’m gonnna—” You can tell; his thrusts aren’t rhythmic anymore, and he’s loosening his grip on your hips, one of his hands scrambling for purchase somewhere. It finds it in your hair; he doesn’t pull it hard enough to pull your head back, but grabs enough of it that you feel it. 

It pulls out the very last drop of your orgasm, and you let out a cry, weak and breathy. Then, as if your sounds themselves are what does it for him, you feel him spilling inside you. Hot, gorgeous, something you really have to taste one of these days. It spurts out from inside you with each of his thrusts as they start to slow, as his breathing stutters and he lets out a gorgeous, whimpered cry of your name. 

“Din,” you say, echoing his own back to him. You’re just a whisper now. Trembling beneath him, feeling both of your pleasures drip down your pussy and onto the pillow beneath you. After a few big breaths, Din’s on top of you again, taking his hands out of your hair and off your hip, instead using them to brace on either side of you. His lips find your neck, your shoulder, the back of your head. He brushes back your hair, smoothes his fingers through it. 

For a minute, you just breathe together. He’s still inside you, and just like last time, you don’t want him to ever not be. 

“Din,” you whisper. 

He kisses your lips like it’s an answer.

“That was so good. I can’t—I can’t even…” 

Kiss. “Yeah,” kiss. “You’re so amazing, Cyar’ika.” 

You close your eyes into his warmth, his breath brushing against your face. You don’t have anything to say that could possibly express how you feel. Instead, you just nod, and turn your head just enough for him to realise you want another kiss. He gives it to you, of course. Then pulls away, meets your eyes. 

“I’m going to pull out,” he warns, gentle. “Are you ready?” 

Nope. “I never am,” you say, still whispering. 

He rubs your lower back, just about grazing your ass. Even that contact is a little much; you’re more sensitive than usual. “I know, baby. I love it too. But you need to rest. We’ve probably already overdone it.” 

You manage a tired smirk, opening your eyes into his, “I broke the doctor’s orders the night I got out of the medbay. Did you think I’d start following them now?” 

Low, he chuckles. Then, gentle, “Are you ready?” 

“Yeah. Just…promise me…”

“It won’t be the last time,” he promises. 

You relax underneath him. “Alright. Then, yes.” 

With his lips on your neck, he slowly and carefully pulls out. It feels like it takes forever, the slow drag of him long and languid. It leaves you empty, pulsing. 

“I know,” he coos as you whimper, “I know, baby, I feel it too. It’s okay.”

His hand slides around to take a much gentler hold of your hip than before, where your skin is still tender from how he’d gripped you, and it doesn’t hurt exactly, but it also kind of does—

A hiss pulls between your teeth. Without permission, your body moves away from him, eyes screwing shut. 

He pulls back to look at your face. Glances down at his hand that now hovers over your skin, then back at you. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah. Just—a little sore.”

“Cyar’ika…” his tone has changed in an instant from blissed-out and teasing to concerned, almost trembling. He pulls back further, shuffling down the bed to check your wounds, inspect your hips. “From where I held you? Or your injuries? I’m sorry. Kriff, I’m sorry.” 

You scramble to sit up. He’d held you pretty tight, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it’s red down there; but you don’t want him to see it. Don’t want him to look at it and think he did something wrong. “It’s okay,” you assure him, sitting back on your heels and reaching out to put a hand on each of his shoulders. His skin is sticky with sweat. “I promise. It was perfect, baby. I promise.” 

With a wrinkled forehead, he looks deep into your eyes. Like he’s searching for any trace of dishonesty. “Okay,” he doesn’t seem convinced, or assuaged from his guilt. 

You lean in, kiss him sweetly on the lips. “Let’s get cleaned up?” 

He nods. “Stay here, I’ll…”

“I could do with the stretch,” you tell him gently, then take a moment just to look at him. His eyes are so sincere. Always so open, raw, his emotions all over his face. It’s never lost on you, how intimate this is. Not the sex, the wetness from both of your bodies between your legs. But this. His face, his expressions, bared before you, and just for you. 

He looks at you like he knows what you’re thinking. His face relaxes as he brushes his fingers down your cheek. 

You give him a smile. Lean in, kiss him once. 

He helps you stagger up from the bed, and the two of you quickly sneak next-door to the refresher. He closes the door behind you, and you head over to the sink, grabbing a washcloth from the cabinet below it. As you run it beneath the warm water, you feel a hand circle around your waist. He presses gently to your stomach. Looking up, you see Din in the reflection of the mirror, his lips pressed to your shoulder. 

You lean back into him with a smile. The faucet gets too hot, so you have to pull away. 

“Sit down,” he tells you softly, taking the washcloth from your hands and turning off the tap. 

Wordless, you do as he asks, and sit on the closed toilet seat. Contentment is settling under your skin, all warm and fuzzy. Your limbs are all shaky but in the best way, and the smile won’t leave your face. 

It helps that Din is naked and walking towards you. That will always help.

He gently pushes your knees apart, and the little bit of energy left in you thinks, Kriff, I could’ve sat like this to have him eat me out, is it too late now?, but the ache in your muscles counters the thought with a very definite Yes. 

So, you just relax as he gently wipes at you with the warm cloth, making sure to clean every part between your legs, on the insides of your thighs, even around your ass and lower back. The last time he cleaned you up of not just your release, but his, it was dark. This time, you can see the concentration on his face, the soft frown as he makes sure he’s doing it right. 

His touch is so tender, so gentle, that you wonder if he’s still worried about hurting you.

Especially when he hesitates over the red marks on your hips, shaped like his fingers. He stares at them intently. “Are you sure I didn’t hurt you?” 

You reach out and put your hand on his head. “I’m sure,” you promise. “It was perfect.” 

He nods, then stands again to re-wet the cloth, rinsing and wringing it a few times beneath the water. You walk up to him, take it from his hands, and return the favour; wipe all traces of wetness from his dick, his crotch, his legs. You even take the opportunity to run it up his chest, through the hairs there. And it’s only partly just because you want to. There’s a reason to it. He was sweaty, after all.

“We should rest,” he tells you gently when you’ve thrown the cloth back in the sink. 

“Yeah. We should.” 

He starts to turn towards the door, but you catch his wrist before he does, bring his eyes back to you. Before he can ask, you lean in, and kiss him. 

Because you can. 

Because you can’t not. 

notes: as always, hope you enjoyed!! also wanted to say that after receiving some pretty shit comments from a user last week, thank you to y'all who helped me feel better! i love u!

i've been super busy AND sick (chronic illness life yay) so this chapter is a day late, BUT i've been writing as much as i can :) thank y'all for reading as always, i hope you enjoyed! i can't believe we're getting to the last six chapters now. comments and reblogs are so appreciated as always <3

taglist:

@toobsessedsstuff @granillx @keepingitlokiii @shoe1412 @quentinor @yourunstablegf @moonknight-s-cumdump @senassn @samanthacookieone @local-fanfic-addict @your-slutty-gf @whenpugzfly @elsasshole @moony-toasts @julesjewelss36 @jbcalway @mxlsmith @indec1sive @lordhavemurthy @booktvmoviefangirl @brokenghostgirl1 @competitivedust

@lostinsideourminds  @gloryekaterina @uncle-eggy @astronymity @leithatnight @domaniquessidehoe @dancealongthelightofday-blog @loveslide @peqchsoup @jaguarthecat @starrynightsforever @djarinxore @rexamongthestars @babygirlrex0504 @dindjarindude @prentissluvr @hotchie360 @beskarandblasters @space-cowboy-like-me

[kiyzeiin]

Okay so I love love LOVE the way you draw the monkey d family it FUELS MY SOUL. I’m new to this app and I have lived my whole life thinking nobody drew them due to there being a lack of it but HERE WE ARE!! I absolutely love the luffys mom design and need to know everything about her. May we have a fun fact abt her? (If not that’s cool too)

thank you sm!!! ABSOLUTELY. i love her too. was waiting for someone to ask. this might be a little long.

she acts JUST like luffy. same mannerisms and everything. not as “empty headed” or frivolous but you get the idea. confronting, loud, blunt, selfish to the point where she’s extraordinarily selfless, etc..

samoan-austronesian ofc !!

she’s an international big-time con artist who steals(pirates) from local corrupt, rich leaders of different islands through her sea voyaging. she rarely uses the money for herself, but for the purpose of gifting it to the poor people who really need it. it’s a robin hood allegory. she’s very bright and quick-witted. and beats people up if they deserve it most importantly

traveled usually with friends from her home village and sometimes new people met venturing. unironically, very good wayfinder. she can navigate extremely well even without the help of her best friend, who was their ship’s navigator. she did this for 10+ years. the government wishes she would explode.

garp is more or less angry about this but mostly because her bounty would only continue to rise. meaning it’s dangerous. at that point, he’s like “oi sole !! fine! whatever she can handle herself i guess. it’s not like i can stop her !” it’s so funny to me, he can’t control his kid, his grandkids to come, or his son in law who just so happens to be the most wanted criminal in the world 😭 no one listens to him. i’m sure he feels crazy. most of his aiga are considered criminals.

may or may not be a devil fruit user. probably not tbh.

i figured since oda keeps insisting that luffy looks just like garp when he’s young and when he’s older, i thought yeah exactly ! luffy’s the spitting image of his mum too.

her and dragon met on her island when they were young. i’d say around the age 14-16. when they married many years later, dragon took her last name for reasons iykyk

before they married though, her and dragon went voyaging as well. they did many revolutionary missions/undertakings together. even before dragon named the endeavor a “revolutionary army.” this was the beginning.

dragon developed feelings for her and of course, it took her a long while to realize this.

luffy’s mom knows dadan. she’s an old friend of hers. wink wink. this is why garp is familiar with dadan and trusted luffy (and ace)with her.

i’d like to think(i DO think) they gave luffy over to dadan for safety reasons if we’re being honest. this is why luffy probably never saw his biological mom.

i like to paint luffy with a bit of pink in his eyes, a feature his mom and his grandpa garp, and previous maternal family members inherit. notice how gear 5 has pink-reddish eyes too !

after luffy was born she doesn’t scheme as much. things happened. with her bounty it’s not safe to stay in one place, but she does get to relax in her home village on every good occasion. she kinda has to play hopscotch between islands so they won’t be targeted.

*

these are just a couple of ideas i had about her. a little might change later but this is how i feel about her (possible) character. AUGHHH i really wish to expand more on this and draw more of her. i do have unfinished drawings of her in my cloud though. im super busy with college rn. i will post more art of the monkey d aiga (family) when i have the time to !!! i’m SO happy you like how i interpret them 💗💗💗

[msminutes]

✦ - cardigan

• pairing: mike wheeler x female reader

• warnings: swears

• inspiration: cardigan - taylor swift

• author’s notes: please send me some stranger things requests!

it was strange to say the least.

the new world you were thrown into once you and eleven escaped the lab.

you gained a sense of freedom that you never had before. and with that freedom came a new family. a true family.

no longer were you engulfed by walls that were sickeningly pale. now in front of you were new opportunities (even though hopper kept you inside most of the time).

and with those new opportunities and new family meant that you met new people.

it meant that you met michael wheeler. the boy with the shaggy black hair and freckles that coated his face like an artists coats his canvas in paint.

he was one of the most beautiful people you have ever laid your eyes on.

and he thought the same about you. god, how he adored you, especially when he first laid his eyes on you.

no matter if you wore that dirty shirt from the buger shop or had a buzzed head, he still thought you were gorgeous.

you miss those days.

the days where he would practically worship you and was attached at your hip.

the days when he would kiss you so gently that it felt as if clouds were nipping at your lips.

but there was something that was always distant about mike.

no matter how much he claimed to adore you, there was always an unease in his voice when he would say it.

“i adore you.”

it would roll off of his tongue and disappear into the night sky as if it was nothing. as if you believed it every time.

maybe it would have been easier if you believed it when he said it.

you may have been young and in love, but you weren’t dumb. you knew that just as he could hold your hands, his words could hold his lies.

when you are young they assume you know nothing.

but i know mike, he loves me.

the lie that you managed to convince to yourself.

you know knew him. you knew a version of him.

you knew the version of him that would kiss you until he had to go home. you knew the mike that would kiss you better after every fight you had with hopper.

i knew you. hand under my sweatshirt. baby, kiss it better

you knew the mike that would comfort you and softly draw shapes on the scars that you gained from being tested on. isn’t it funny how now that he’s gone, those very scars feel as if they’re open wounds again?

you drew stars around my scars, but now i’m bleeding.

but even after all the comfort in the world, all the i adore you’s, and even after the single “i love you,” he always wished he was saying it to another.

but never once did mike lie to you fully, as that would be much too cruel to do.

he found you gorgeous. your beauty was rare and absolutely captivating to anyone that could see it.

he enjoyed comforting you as his family never really did that for him.

he truly did adore you. he adored your strength, your powers, your determination.

you were his hero, after all. how could he not adore his hero?

and he did love you. but not the way that you loved him.

mike wasn’t in love with you.

his heart fully longed for another, for will, but he didn’t want to believe it.

if he couldn’t be honest with himself, then he definitely couldn’t be honest with you.

but you didn’t need him to be honest with you. you saw the lingering stares the two gave to each other.

they were like the sun and the moon, destined to be together, but the night and day get in the way of it.

you were their night and day.

you got in the way of a love that was beyond anything you could understand.

a love that developed years before you arrived so suddenly into their lives.

so once mike realized that he couldn’t keep up the façade of loving you, he left.

no longer was he the mike that you knew. no, now he was the mike you would begin to know. the mike that would be much happier with will.

i knew you. leaving like a father, running like water, i. and when you are young they assume you know nothing.

you never knew when he would leave you, but you knew that one day it would happen.

you knew you’d still be able to feel his lips on yours even when he wasn’t there.

but i knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss.

you knew that you would ponder upon the future you will never be able to share with him. i knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs

you knew that smokey, yet minty scent of his would linger on your clothes and in your room for a while.

the smell of smoke would hang around this long, cause i knew everything when i was young.

you knew that you’d hate him for the hurt he would put you through, but you couldn’t blame him for chasing the love that he so desperately desired.

i knew i'd curse you for the longest time.

you knew that his familiar shadow would walk by yours, even if he wasn’t there, for you would miss the thought of you being with him. chasing shadows in the grocery line.

you knew that even though he would enjoy every moment that he had with will, there would be a small part of him that missed what he had with you.

i knew you’d miss me once the thrill expired.

and you knew that he would be the first one knocking on your door when vecna would make an appearance again. because no matter what happened between you two, he needed his hero.

and you’d be standing in my front porch light. and i knew you’d come back to me, you’d come back to me, and you’d come back to me, and you’d come back.

and you’d always say yes to helping him. because, your heart still belonged to him.

because you still found comfort and warmth with him. but the worst part about finding someone that brings you so much comfort and warmth is losing them.

losing that touch.

becoming cold.

missing the feeling of being engulfed by their entire being. missing their touch that is still etched upon your skin.

missing your favorite person.

and when i felt like i was an old cardigan under someone’s bed, you put me on and said i was your favorite.

[anemptypuddingcup]

Taking care of Keigo after he gets burned. ||Part 1 angst.||

Spoilers?? (Unless if I’m just late- I need to catch up on mha.)

(I don’t have much knowledge of this- but I’ve seen enough spoilers to know what happened to him😀)

this may be a change of fandoms but I love Keigo- fight me.

“KEIGO!? KEIGO!” Keigo could hear your voice echo throughout the hospital’s hallway followed by your rushing footsteps. The nurses and doctors tried their best to keep you out of the way, but there was no way you would let Keigo sit there in pain without you by his side.

You bursted through the doors and into his room, tears flooding down from your eyes. “B-Baby-“ Keigo coughed. All he could do was reach his arms out as you fell into them. You cried your heart out onto Keigo while he could only rub your back and sigh. “Aw, there’s no need to cry. I’m still alive aren’t I?” He smiled, still coughing a bit.

“That’s n-not the p-point…” Your whimpers were muffled by his hug, a tight hug at that. Keigo was hurt, so that he wouldn’t be able to fly high anymore, to soar though the clouds.

There would be no point in having a hero name such as his. He was a wingless bird now.

But if he had to be honest, he’d rather have this fate than having you taken away from him.

Walking didn’t seem so bad.

He patted your head and kissed you. “Y’know you’re gonna get in trouble for doin all that…right?” Keigo giggles. You looked up at him, still teary-eyed.

“Let me see them.” You said sternly.

Keigo’s eyes widens in response.

“What?-“

“I SAID LET ME SEE THEM! TURN AROUND!” You yelled, demanding him turn around. Keigo sighed and sits up slowly, letting out a pained grunt. You helped him up and looked at his wings, which were now two little moving bones. The base of of his wings.

Your heart shattered seeing them move back and forth and it made you feel even more worse. You bursted into tears and Keigo tried his best to calm you down.

“Baby bird please, at least it wasn’t you in this situation.” He said, holding you in a tight hug. “But Keigo- y-you’re…your wings…” You whimpered before you could even finish your sentence.

“…they’re gone…”

Keigo looks at you with saddened eyes and hugs you. “At least I’m not dead, alright? This was bound to happen to me eventually.” He sighed and continued, his voice beginning to break. “Besides…I’d rather have this fate, than lose you. Just be happy that I’m still here.” He whimpers, the tears finally beginning to fall down his face.

You could only cry with him as you both lay there on the hospital bed. You stayed in each others embrace until the doctors finally came back in to escort you out of his room.

It pained you to leave him and at first you had refused, but Keigo decided that it would’ve been best for you to go home for the night so you could stay out of trouble. The doctors allowed you to come back tomorrow but you had to go home tonight.

And with that after saying your goodbye to Keigo, you left. You couldn’t sleep during that night, your fear for Keigo could only grow as paranoia took over your mind. You just wanted it to be dawn soon so you could go back to him, to make sure that he would be okay.

||End of part 1||

-Just so y’all know. In my world, there’s no such thing as a wingless bird. (In this case, there’s no such thing as a wingless Keigo in my heart)

-With that being said, take this art I did of Hawks since I finally finished it, you deserve it after reading this angst. (Part 2 is gonna be smutty-)

I had too much fun drawing him too😀

[metalempire]

some very thoughts on wrathful aoi and why she’s easily one of my favourite things digimon has ever done down below. spoilers ahead for all of the wrathful route of digimon survive.

wrathful route in general is peak survive thanks to how violent and unhinged it is, plus you get mugendramon from it, my favourite digimon, so of course i’m overwhelmingly biased towards it, especially since it was my first route i completed when survive came out last year. all the said, aoi has always been a fascinating take on digimon’s core Girl™ archetype, clearly based on two characters from the original 1999 digimon adventure (which survive is overtly stated to draw heavy inspiration from as a more modern and dark retelling of that story’s core archetype and thematic elements) those being sora takenouchi primarily, and jou kido secondarily. 

she obviously has the Motherly™ traits down perfectly, as she is always concerned for the group, reacts negatively to violence, is very concerned for any instance of children, is a good cook, naturally caring, merciful, and kind. she also is a deeply responsible girl who puts others before herself, is an honour student who always volunteered to do the right thing at school, even to her own detriment as no one helped her. despite being seemingly the perfect girl, a class president who did no wrong, was always helpful, and never negative, she never had many friends, was scolded by teachers for being too helpful for her own good, and was seemingly always punished in small, but meaningful ways throughout life just for being what everyone wanted her to be. the parallels to sora and jou in their core traits and arcs from the show are quite clear as the route goes on, as aoi takes over as leader when takumi disappears trying to save miyuki and stop piemon. 

she’s able to hold the group together, taking on even more responsibility, putting all of her skills to good use. but in the end, she isn’t takuma, she can’t savescum every response for max affinity like a true MC, and so does the best with what she has. during this time, she develops a strong bond with saki, a girl she admires deeply. saki, though being terminally ill, and near the start of the game, close to dying, is still outwardly cheery, outgoing, emotionally vibrant, and blunt about everything. saki shines bright despite the horrendous circumstances she finds herself in, and she inspires aoi, who wishes to be as driven, determined, and honest with herself as saki is. the irony being saki keeps her secret that she’s dying from everyone except aoi and floramon. though (unless i’m remembering wrong) takuma can find out. similarly, saki admires everything positive about aoi, and the two girls desperately want to be more like each other, finding that one has what the other lacks. 

the tragedy of all this naturally comes to its conclusion as violently as possible. when saki dies, it’s a sudden, brutal, yet drawn out demise. saki makes a mistake, and isn’t reprimanded for it by aoi, because aoi and the others help her anyway, and the situation is too tense. aoi admires how saki can move on swiftly and back into action with the rescue effort, furthering her desire to be like saki, clouding her self-image once more, saki shining bright enough to where the glare prevents aoi from seeing she’s falling for the same trap as before. this ends up with the kenzoku grabbing saki, and aoi being the one to try and pull her back, only for saki to sacrifice herself so the girl she looks up to more than anyone in the world doesn’t die, and aoi is forced to watch her rock, the girl she’s leaned on for weeks be violently ripped apart in a bloody death, right in front of her, and cannot have time to grieve, as the team needs to move or be swallowed by the fog. 

aoi’s sheer shock and depression, her sense of loss, her confusion and bubbling self doubt come to the surface totally, and she shuts down. she rejects all comforts, because she has convinced herself she knows saki better than anyone, that she, in some small way, is saki, and that this death means something more to her. saki’s death shakes aoi to her core, and kaito, in a scene to parallel the harmonic route, tries to offer her words of resolve, but his emotions spill out wrong, and he doesn’t fully connect with her. in the end, aoi leaves to be by herself, only to end up at the library, where the saki illusion utterly breaks her mind, feeds on her guilt, aoi’s sense of responsibility, and weaponises her kindness against her, sinking aoi to her lowest low. but despite it all, she still has labramon. aoi wanders alone, lost in the woods, with only her thoughts of saki, saki’s death, what saki has and what she herself lacks, and eventually, of labramon, how she let her digimon down, and lets the others down, but then, her anger slips in. aoi wishes everyone would work together more. surely, if they had, if they had listened to her more often, bickered less often, coordinated better, not been indecisive or clashed so often, saki wouldn’t be dead. maybe even shuuji and ryo beforehand. aoi snaps here, and decides everyone should work harmoniously, even the sworn enemies of kemonogami and humans. 

for some reason, piemon survives getting his ass blasted by some kids in the human world (this only happens in wrathful and harmonic. he stays dead in moral and truthful. this is never explained lol but i like to think he gave up and was chilling on the beach for those)  and aoi finds him dying in the woods. in her more delusional state of confusion, she decides she’s now a fire emblem protagonist, and heals him so she can talk to him and recruit him in the fight against the master. unfortunately, aoi is not the protagonist, and this is digimon survive, so her helping a guy who was very much down with child sacrifices is a very stupid move that earns her a brutal fate. however, it makes total sense. she is deeply traumatised by death, constant fighting for her life, raw guilt, and a creeping sense of long-running resentment for the human race conflicting with her natural kindness and love of everyone. with so many mixed emotions, trauma, constant self-doubt, no confidence in herself whatsoever, having lost everything, save for her life, aoi really believes in herself that she is right, that everyone else is wrong, because she’s aoi shibuya, she only does the right thing. 

so piemon violently chokes aoi, beats her to death, and then stabs her, and to top it all off, does the same to labramon, and leaves them both to die on the ground. 

aoi, in her state of raw emotional and mental turmoil, (also hasn’t eaten anything since saki died so she’s physically out of it too and barely slept) genuinely thought this would work, that piemon was forsaken by the master, and would want to side with her. she forgot, in her self-assuredness, trying to be like saki, her ideal protagonist in life, that piemon was her enemy, that piemon hates humans more than she does, that piemon is an ultimate level (or mega if ur a dub loser lol) with four swords duct taped to his back, and that she, at most, will only have the perfect level cerberumon, (on wrathful, she cannot access anubimon’s evolution scene unless you already unlock it on ng+) so she could not have solo’d this boss even if she tried. poor aoi suffers once more for choosing “correctly”, for helping someone injured, for being like saki, assured, honest, confident, bright. 

she watches, dying on the ground, as piemon fights the team, who wish to save her. she laments that everyone is fighting again, which she was trying to prevent. once more, she is helpless to see her efforts come to naught, to fail. but labramon reaches out to her, someone who never abandoned her, someone who didn’t let her wander off alone, someone who loves her for being her, not for what she does for them. the friend she always needed. saki may be aoi’s idol, and her best friend, in a sense, but labramon is aoi’s partner digimon, labramon was who aoi needed all along. she knows this, deep down, and her desires, spilling out all at once as she sees her bloodied and dying little dog, manifest as, ironically, darkness. she doesn’t want to die, she wants to live. and she wants to be right for once, to make things right for once. 

aoi becomes plutomon by fusing with labramon. plumon is an ultimate level dark virus digimon. it is one of the olympos xii, and despite the former statement, is a vengeful roman death god hell bent on exterminating all virus digimon, and is the most frightening member of the olympos xii. plutmon kills and absorbs piemon easily, then fends off the party, declaring her intentions to kill the master, and bring harmony and peace to this broken world of the kemonogami. but there’s more to it than that. initially, everyone is terrified of plutomon, but minoru still sees her as aoi, and, that her new form is useful in their fight against the master. however aoi makes it clear that the harmony she seeks is the same kind she demonstrated with piemon. her madness complete, she earnestly believes that by assimilating everyone into her, she can make them all happy, to all do and think as she does, to all live with her. everyone will be together, as one. even if she has to be violent, cruel, and strict, she will bring everyone the happiness they need, because aoi is never wrong. aoi is the perfect honour student. aoi always does the right thing. and plutmon is simply fighting to make a utopia, the very thing mankind strives for. in her delusions, plutomon says she can hear saki’s voice, as part of this world, cheering her on. she’s too far gone to stop now, but she’s never been more confident in herself, or her new plans.

aoi leaves, kicks down the master’s door, and begins brutally assimilating the kenzoku, stripping the master of his minions. she fights the party again, and tis time, they try to get through to her, appealing to her emotions, admitting their own failings, but ultimately, trying to make her see reason. but in the end, miyuki and renamon die thanks to the master’s machinations, and so they are dragged into his realm. plutmon fights the master, but dies, and is absorbed by him. the party fights to avenge aoi, while the master wears plutomon as a hood ornament, mocking them all. however, this was all according to keikaku. aoi planned for it to go this way, so the others would weaken the master for her to eat him from the inside, gaining all the power she needs to make her dream a reality. she reveals that she intends to unify the world of the kemonogami and the humans to be as one, and then assimilate all life into her, to become the paradise they always dreamed of. she even pulls the remnants of saki, ryo and shuuji up, claiming to hear their affirming voices. all the party hears are the pained screams of the dead, who wish for their friend to stop. aoi doesn’t know, she’s too far gone, to caught in her delusions to care. plutomon hears what she wants to hear, just as it is in its original lore, the god of death is single minded in its pursuit, and violently unwavering. aoi even mocks the party, in an oddly caring way, reflecting on how their friendship, their bond, and their strength, was what she relied on this whole time to make her will come true. 

in the final battle, aoi is ultimately killed by her friends, who desperately wanted to help her, to turn her away from a path of mass extinction, and in the end, had to strike her down. she laments her failings, she apologises to everyone, dead and alive, and wishes she could just be right, and dies, with a smile, questioning if she was wrong again, and apologising, as the polite girl she always was. aoi dies with a smile, having fought for peace and harmony. aoi did nothing wrong. aoi was punished regardless. that’s how it always goes for her, doesn’t it? 

the core theme of aoi, or rather, plutomon’s journey, is the paradoxical and ultimately doomed to failure quest that is achieving heaven through violence. history even has such examples, such as crusades and holy wars, where the righteous, through doctrine, personal bias, piety, and ultimately, brutal ignorance and delusion, attempt to crush what they believe to be opposition, in what they believe to be righteous, the correct path, that will lead them to the wonderful utopia, the heavens above, yet they contradict themselves, through malicious acts of persecution and violence, sheer brutality, and hatred towards their fellow people. plutomon wanted nothing more than for people to be brought together. but plutomon used mass murder as her means to bring about peace, and believed it to be correct. a world of peace cannot be built on a foundation of violence. even her statement that there is no room for naughty children in her ideal world reveals the hypocrisy of plutomon’s beliefs and methods, punishing others through slaughter. 

the wrathful ending, with its anti-digimon dystopian police state (just like real life!) is a great representation of aoi’s corruption, and in the end, the world she was always going to make. people and digimon came together. forcefully. some found their partners and were happy. some found them and used them for evil. most never met them at all. most were lost and confused. division arose. segregation, persecution, violence, chaos and mass destruction arose in an authoritarian nightmare state. fitting, perhaps, for what aoi wrought. she wanted to bring people together, no matter the cost, and her brazen, self-assured, delusional methods, stained with blood, only brought more suffering. aoi did nothing wrong. the world was punished regardless. that’s how it always goes for her, isn’t it?

aoi shibuya is a good example of the subtle pressures and small scale incidents that pile up over time, and the consequences of bottling up one’s emotions while trying to always care for others. aoi was the perfect honour student, who was always kind and helpful. a good cook who prioritised the safety of the group, someone who always supported the sake decision, and could even cut through the air during an argument to restore peace. she stepped up to be responsible leader, and always helped others. 

aoi never leaned on anyone for support when it mattered. she put saki on a pedastal, and while she did lean on her for support, she never allowed their relationship to be equal, as friends, and was never fully honest with herself, or saki, about why she wanted to be like saki. she always had labramon looking out for her, but never confided in labramon. in her dying moments, she laments that she would have been a burden to them if she did confide in them and leaned on them for support, only for a tearful party to reveal she always did so much to help them, and hey would have loved to support her. but aoi never let them know that until she died. until she went on the warpath as plutomon. aoi was always responsible to a fault, but never leaned on anyone for support, never gave anyone else much of a chance to be like her, to share her burdens. aoi struggled to connect with people, and even when she tried, she put her on a pedestal, and never allowed them to properly share in their burdens. aoi never realised her strengths, and eventually, grew arrogant enough to believe she was always doing the right thing, and that by embodying only what she believed saki to be, that she could change the world. aoi not realising that she was fine as who she was, and that by working together with saki, being honest with her, sincere about her feelings, that she could have found a far better way to work through her flaws, and together with everyone. (jou’s crest is sincerity in the original japanese run of adventure, coincidence, then, that aoi needs to embody that sincerity, and with labramon, love, sora’s crest, to be able to move forward within herself as a character?)

aoi, in the wrathful route, is a bleakly realistic depiction of what happens when the Perfect Girl ultimately snaps from the weight of responsibility. when someone tried to always do the right thing, even to their own detriment, never asks for help, is never a burden, is always reliable, always kind, offers care of their own but never asks for any themselves, and always thinks of others first, no matter what, without ever leaning on anyone else for support. eventually, the perfection slips, and soon, the world itself seems to turn on them. in the end, the pressure becomes too great, everything goes wrong, and when one domino falls, the rest slip into place, and great consequences are wrought. ones that are deeply self-destructive, and even can harm the very people one cares about. 

aoi looks up to an inspiring friend. aoi’s friend dies right in front of her. aoi helps someone on the verge of death. aoi is choked, beaten, and stabbed to death. aoi resolves to fix the world, and solve two world’s worth of problems, carry everyone’s burdens, and put and end to a centuries-long conflict. aoi is killed by the very people she was fighting for. aoi did nothing wrong. aoi was punished regardless. it’s always like that for her, isn’t it? 

aoi shibuya is a fantastic deconstruction of the typical motherly Girl™ character, combined with the responsible older kid archetype, blended into a brutal physical and mental breakdown that makes far too much sense given everything that’s happened to her. all the little things built up, and then something big happened, and it all spilled out. she tried her best to regain control, but by then, she was already too far gone. no matter what, aoi shibuya never gave up, she took what she saw in saki, even takuma to a much lesser extent, and stepped up to take charge, confidently, and do the right thing, do what needs to be done, and embark on a mission to save the world. by destroying it. she wanted to be right, so badly, that she blinded herself to reality. all alone, and yet, in her last moments, died surrounded by people who cared for her, even after she tried to slaughter them all. and even though it went horrendously, in her own way, she brought humans and digimon together. 

her story is tragic, but more subtle than the traditional sad backstory kind of way digimon often does it. it’s grounded, mundane, even, yet it shows how even a polite, ordinary, high-achieving girl who is pleasant in every way and mild-mannered, can become twisted and unrecognisable due to circumstances beyond her control, and ultimately, her own self-imposed loneliness that many people struggle with in our real world. aoi desperately tried to gain control of her life, but sadly, was never truly able to have it. everyone else stood in her way. but then, it was everyone else who she, ironically, needed the most, yet pushed away with her own decisions, always, for their own good, over her own. by being selfless, aoi, in the end, did herself, more harm than good. 

it always goes that way, doesn’t it?

perfection is an illusion. chasing it only leads to madness. 

“i say these people should learn of our peaceful ways....by force!” -aoi shibuya, shortly after becoming plutomon 

[jinkoh]

i'm here now

jinho x gn reader

summary: you're finally visiting your boyfriend after not seeing him for a while

Tags: established relationship, long distance, hurt/comfort, SFW; word count: 815 Warnings: anxiety/mental health issues

a/n: there's that scene in midnight sun where he opens his arms for her and hugs her rlly tightly and i think about that a normal amount

Masterlist

You haven’t really been feeling like yourself in quite a while already. There was this giant gray cloud looming over your head; loneliness, helplessness, frustration. Above all, you were tired. Getting out of bed already felt so difficult, how were you supposed to do anything else? It looked so easy for everyone else but you couldn’t seem to get it right.

It didn’t help that you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in a while; Jinho had been a little busy these days, getting a bunch of very fortunate opportunities at work. You knew he would have tried his best to make some time for you if you’d told him how you were feeling, but you didn’t want to be a bother, not when things were going so well for him. 

Even if he hadn’t been so busy—you wouldn’t have known what to tell him anyway. Saying that you weren’t feeling so good didn’t even scratch the surface of how miserable you were, but trying to find words that came a little closer to the truth and expressed what had really been going on in your head just felt too much.

Now, after a long time, you were finally visiting him over the weekend. He was going to pick you up from the train station and you’d eat at a nice restaurant and watch a movie afterwards. If you were being honest with yourself, you would have preferred to just drive to his place, snuggle up in his bed and have some music running. But it hardly seemed fair to ask him to change plans now after he’d already gone through the trouble of making reservations, especially since it’d been you who had insisted on going on a proper date together. 

You felt antsy the whole train ride long, scared of ruining the evening for him, scared of not being able to enjoy and treasure this weekend the way you were supposed to. It was so stupid, you should have looked forward to finally seeing him again but you were so in your head about it all that none of the usual excitement welled up. By the time your train rolled into the station you’d been close to crying several times and your leg was shaking non-stop. You got out of your seat with a racing heart, cautiously eyeing the platform through the train’s windows on your way out, trying to spot Jinho somewhere. 

You saw him the moment you left the train, standing right across from your car door. His eyes were searching the platform as well, unsure where you’d be getting out.

“I don't have all day,” someone grunted behind you and you realized that you’d stopped right in the doorway. You quickly apologized and stepped out and out of the way.

Just then, Jinho finally turned his head, his face lighting up with a happy smile the moment his gaze landed on you.

Despite all the anxiety you’d felt on the way here, now that you were seeing him in person after all this time, relief washed over you. 

Still smiling brightly, he opened his arms for you, and you immediately ran over, stumbling into his chest with a little too much force. He let out a strangled noise at the impact before tightly wrapping his arms around you.

“Someone couldn’t wait to see me, hm?” 

He chuckled close to your ear. Only now did you really grasp just how much you’d missed him. You buried yourself in the hug, hands clinging to his back. Tears sprung to your eyes and made their way down your cheeks until they dripped onto his shoulder, soaking the fabric of his shirt. You weren’t entirely sure why you were crying but you couldn’t help yourself.

Jinho gently swayed you from side to side, his fingers drawing calming patterns on your back.

“It’s okay,” he mumbled softly into your hair. “I’m here now.”

Just like that he held you for a while. Most passengers had long left the platform and your train too had already continued its journey, but you were still standing there, drowning yourself in his warmth.

“Let’s go home?” He suggested eventually, pulling away a bit to look at you.

“But our reservation,” you mumbled with a sniff.

“Do you still want to go?”

You shrugged, averting your eyes. “You went through all the trouble…”

“Mhm,” he tilted his head to meet your gaze, a small smile on his lips. “It was really troublesome. So if you couldn’t enjoy it at all wouldn’t that be a waste of my efforts?”

“But—”

“We’ll do it another time,” he cupped your cheeks, his thumbs brushing your tears away. “I'll go through the trouble again. Now let’s go home so I can wrap you up in a blanket like a giant burrito.”

You nodded, unable to contain another sniff despite the smile that was forming on your lips. “I’d like that.”

Masterlist

[dearestgojo]

So Good by Weston Estate for @foulvillain

Toji x Reader

Warnings: 18+. Implied age gap. Angst.

Wc: 621 |  Main Masterlist

The air is heavy in the small cafe where you sit across from Toji, who’s standing in front of you hands placed on the edge of the table as he looks down at you, lips curled into a snarl. People are turning to look at you, the loud bang Toji had made when he slammed his hands down on the surface drawing their attention to the scene about to play before them. 

“You’re yanking my chain,” he laughs out, glowering down at you.

Remaining impassive you sip from the cold coffee in front of you, batting your eyelashes at him, “I’m not. Let’s end things here, I’m tired of chasing someone who will never be fully mine.” 

The people in the cafe are starting to whisper, making the tips of Toji’s ears turn a light shade of pink, but he doesn’t stop continuing the scene from playing out. His ego was bruised. “I’m the only person who’s ever cared for you. Who’s ever pleased you in bed. You’re never going to find anyone like me.”

“That’s the point,” you reply, lips curving up as you hurt his already injured confidence, lying through your teeth, “You weren’t that great in bed if I’m being honest.” 

Toji stays frozen above you, fists clenching on the table. A few of the cafe’s customers snicker under their breaths, the men making pained noises. You can see the anger in Toji’s eyes, can see him doubting himself a little. That’s what you wanted to see, wanted to toy with his heart like he had with yours. You wanted to see him questioning everything he thought about himself the same you had for the last four years, chasing after a man who had made you feel less than human. The man who had beaten and battered the heart you had placed in his hands, playing with it as if it was pumping blood into you. Even if it is for just a second.

A second that lasts forever. A second in which you consider taking your words back because if you didn’t last night would be the last night you’ll ever feel the intense pleasure that only Toji Fushijuro would make you feel. The last time your mind ever went blank and you’ve ever felt like you were floating in the clouds while climaxing. 

His jaw clenches, fingers flexing as he stares down at you, sitting back on the chair, the legs scraping against the shining tile, “Fine, I never wanted around anyways, you basically a kid still, so I guess I end up getting something out of this.” Toji grabs the cup in front of him, it looks tiny in his hands, probably how you looked when you’d forced him to hold you in public, and your thighs clenched beneath the table. “So what was it that made you give up?” He asks suddenly, looking at you over the rim of his cup.

You sigh, heart clenching in your chest as more lies spill from your lips, “I found someone else. Someone who cares enough to stay and is my age.” The plastic in your hand feels even colder as you watch drops of condensation drip down.

It stays quiet for a few more moments before Toji replies, “Did you actually want me to stay?”

You look up to find Toji looking at you, his usual hard expression softened. It makes your heartache. You spew more false words, knowing that if you don’t break either of you free you’d remain trapped in this game. Youlaugh when you answer, “I think I was looking for someone to have some fun with.”

Toji scoffs and sips the rest of his coffee, “Well you almost had me there, kid.”

Part of my Two Year Event: Open

[soriastrider]

Please tell us more about shadow demon Jake, I’m so interested :3c

ooh okay sure! :3 so i will be honest, like i said before this is still mostly just a jumbled collection of thoughts lol BUT i like the shadow boi enough that i've come up with a bunch of random ideas about him

i sort of said this before but my brain spawned him while i was supposed to be studying for my partial differential equations exam. brain said "time to not do math right now and instead draw vaguely suggestive 'dirk getting possessed by spooky demon boi jake'" and then it appeared on my screen (i am a sucker for demon stuff). so hooray for that? lol

so! hmm what do i have about him

jake enjoys being a mild nuisance. being Legitimately Evil (TM) is way too much of a hassle, and he'd rather just chill and make himself a very cute, very unavoidable bother to his new human boyfriend whose soul he now owns and who he can possess at will. dirk is just like hey, so what if he's a demon, that's fine i guess. take my soul, not like i was really using it anyway. he's hot and gives great hugs and is probably not going to kill me. it's cool

despite generally not being outwardly malicious, jake won't hesitate to do pretty much whatever is necessary to get what he wants. sometimes this causes some problems

he generally acts fairly normal but sometimes he'll just casually make a very disturbing comment or cheerfully suggest murder as a solution to a minimal problem ("Say old chum do you think we ought to pop down and eliminate the downstairs neighbors? Theyre quite the nuisance with all that noise. Itll only take a moment dont worry. Well be back in time for dinner!") and dirk will have to explain that no, we can't just go around killing people because they're annoying, jake. if nothing else, think of the paperwork.

jake can dissolve back and forth between his shadowy form and his human form at will, and can mix and match them as much as he wants. sometimes he manifests with horns and fangs, sometimes he looks fully human, sometimes he is a cloud of void with his spooky glowing eyes and mouth. he likes to hug and touch and generally put himself obnoxiously in dirk's personal space, and dirk puts up with it because he likes it he generally thinks jake falls closer to cute than annoying on the scale of "yes" to "stop"

and ive said this part but full possession turns dirk's eyes green, and if jake just sort of "suggests" or pulls an incomplete possession they just start tinting partially greenish. jake likes watching this. he's also got a bunch of fancy demon abilities (tm) that can transfer to dirk upon possession. ooh maybe jake's influence makes dirk able to flashstep for this au, that's cool. anyway jake!dirk running around looking and acting like an eldritch nightmare boy is a fun thought lol