#ended up doodling here quite a bit

[qwertyprophecy]

More Raz-at-Han sketches

[gncrezan]

some old @chrysanthemumgames hermes-seph sketches!!! some of it is established-relationship daydreaming but also a peek at my dark and twisted mind (sprawling intricate spidey au)

[sysig]

Shapes never felt so good (Patreon)

[yanderenightmare]

TW: NSFW, noncon, yandere, stalking

gn reader

There’s something very off about your roommate… something eerie that makes you keep your distance.

You can’t describe exactly what it was about the boy except that you felt it from the second you shook his hand. The way he introduced himself… you don’t know… you had this unshakable feeling as though he already knew you from somewhere.

It’s a weird thought to have of someone you’d only just met. You knew you were probably just being paranoid. It was your first time sharing your space with someone other than family, so it might very well just have been you being apprehensive.

Not that you’d ever let it show, though. You didn’t want things between the two of you to be awkward when you’d be living together for the next three years of getting your degree.

You just needed to get used to him, is what you told yourself. 

So you laughed at his jokes and listened to his brags with a polite smile as though nothing was wrong, even when he continued being strange. 

For starters, he had almost nothing to unpack – as though he only planned to stay about a month or two. Everything seemed newly bought as well – unused and sterile, like a movie set.

You don’t know… maybe he was a minimalist even though he didn’t seem the type.

It shouldn't really have made your skin crawl the way it did. But whether it made sense or not, you couldn’t shake the discomfort – walking around in a constant wariness of him. 

Everything about him seemed like a half-assed theatre act.

You’d see him in the lecture hall, walking from here to there, buying strawberry milk from the vending machines. His textbooks remained piled on his desk in your shared dorm room – but you’d never seen any one of them open. And when curiosity and suspicion made you flip up one of his notebooks, you found it was all blank except for a few shitty doodles on the first page. You never see him cram for exams or writing any papers. You don’t think you’ve ever even seen him pull a laptop out of his bag.

It’s like he isn't a student at all…

And something about the rest of his performance just rubs you the wrong way.

It’s as though he’s practiced all his facial expressions in the mirror – as though he’s studied social cues and body language in a human behavior manual instead of having learned them naturally. It makes you uneasy – how his smile is always a bit too wide and a bit too stiff to be genuine and how all his words are like dialogue off a script.

Somehow, it feels as though he���s wearing a second skin – hiding something… something that’s not quite right on the inside.

It grosses you out when he tries flirting with you. But you do your best to hide it. Brushing him off by changing the topic, inviting other friends when he asks to eat lunch together, laughing off his attempts as though he’s making jokes – always excusing yourself when you end up alone with him for too long. 

You try to avoid him as much as you can. Pretending to study when you’re in the dorm together – and otherwise going to bed early.

He tells you he’ll see you at the party later when you leave to pregame with some friends. You can only muster a smile and a curt “Sure.” before leaving. 

As for seeing each other later – you hope you don’t.

But of course you do. You can’t seem to escape him. Everywhere you go, he follows.

It doesn’t help that all your friends think he’s so hot, immediately calling him over, gushing over him as though he’s some type of celebrity. They don’t understand your reservation – if they were you, they’d have fucked him the first night of moving in together.

It’s not like you don’t find him attractive as well. You admit he is ridiculously handsome, and if the circumstances were different, you’d say you lucked out being assigned the same dorm room as him. 

But as it were – he gives you the same feeling as spotting a spider.

He’s got his arm slung around your shoulder as the two of you walk back together. 

He had a little bit too much to drink… And despite your thoughts about him, even you didn’t have the heart to say no when he was practically hanging off of you – cheeks dusted pink with his mothlike lashes droopy, drunkenly mumbling while blinking up at you with those awfully bright eyes, asking you to take him home and tuck him in.

“Ugh...” You sigh.

It’s a struggle carrying the nearly two-meter-tall boy, almost having to drag him down the hallway before stopping short at your door. He’s drooling on your shoulder with murmurs of sleep as you search for the key – not exactly sober yourself.

When inside, his bigger body presses you against the closed door – his face buried in the grove of your neck with slurred words.

“Dude.” You state with a grimace – as if saying his name was too much of a burden – sighing as you haul him off with the same exasperation of a parent putting an unruly child to bed. 

Ducking beneath his arm, you leave him kissing the door – thinking to yourself how you really should put him to bed before he can embarrass himself any further.

You open your mouth to tell him when his temper finally makes him grab your arm a little harder than intended. 

“This isn't how this is supposed to go.” 

You flinch instinctively, and his grip tightens in return. “Hey?”

You can’t see his face with the way he’s got his head bowed. But you don’t like the snuff growl that passes under his breath as he utters the next words.

“Why are you so difficult?”

You do more than flinch this time, yanking yourself out of his harsh grip before he can apologize for it – taking on a deliberate offensive stance. 

With your feet squared and your hands up to keep him at a distance, you look ready to try fending him off.

Something about it seems premeditated – something in the wary way you eye him. You don’t even look all that surprised – as if you had suspected this side of him existed all along and had only been waiting for it to surface.

Oddly, t feels like something you’ve kept secret from him – as though you’ve acted comfortable all this time when, in reality, you’ve been clutching your mental pearls.

He realizes then why you haven’t returned his affection – why all you’ve ever given him is cold-hearted rejection…

Of course. It’s obvious now – so obvious it’s funny. Even though he’s been the one parading around like someone else, it feels as though you’ve been doing the exact same thing around him – hiding your discomfort behind a sweet smile – hiding it so well that not even his keen eyes have picked up on it…

But it’s clear now….

You’ve both been playing a game of pretend – just a pair of perfect strangers – who've now shared their hand. Leaving you both feeling naked – raw out in the cold – just waiting for the next move.

“I guess the gig is up, huh?” He rasps, fingers twitching at his sides – looking ready to pounce.

You couldn’t defend why you'd kept the pepper spray in the drawer of your nightstand – but you were glad you had. Rushing for it, hands shaking as you pulled the handle and grabbed the bottle – twisting around and spraying it right in the face of your roommate.

He cries out from the attack, clutching his face with both hands – staggering back with a series of gruff curse words.

Still, he guards the door – preventing your escape.

The groaning turns to croaks instead, and you think he might be crying. It’s tough to see through the hands covering his eyes – but when he looks back up again, despite the red burns left by your pepper spray on his puffy teary cheeks, he’s got a smile on his face. 

He’s not crying – he’s laughing – as the hand covering his face slowly drags down the crazed expression – over crazed eyes, bloodshot and wet, staring at you through the gaps between his fingers.

The look alone is enough to give you goosebumps.

But when you try to make a run for it, he grabs you again – and this time, you’re not able to shake him off. It feels as though the tight grip splinters your skin as he pulls you back – shoving you down against your bed.

“Can’t say it hasn’t been fun, roomie. But I’m not completely satisfied yet.”

He’s on top of you before you get a kick in – pinning your wrists above your head as he leans over you – bright eyes gleaming with that sickness you’d almost convinced yourself you’d been imagining. You opt to shout, but he’s soon got his other hand clasped tight over the bottom half of your face before you get a sound out.

“You were supposed to fall in love with me, you know?” His voice is airy as though he’s confessing – but also on the brink of laughter as though he’s telling a joke in class. “That’s how it goes in the movies.”

You swallow beneath his hand – eyes peeled, heart beating so hard it hurts.

His eyes wander – roaming your neck and chest. It’s awfully quiet before he speaks again. “But I suppose we can act out a different plot line...” 

You whimper at his suggestive tone – already feeling the weight of his intentions bearing down on you, crushing you free of air. 

“I like romcoms, but horror stories have their charm, too...”

You shudder beneath the warmth of his breath, screaming into his palm once his warm lips mouth your throat, sucking on the tender skin with tongue and teeth in between words.

“An unfortunate college student finds themself moving into the same dorm as their unhinged stalker…”

There’s a thrill in his tone – something crazed and terrifying as he goes on.

“The two play a psychological game of endurance, trying to balance college and privacy while sharing the same space...”

Something hard and gross steadily ruts against your thigh. His voice gets thicker – breath hotter on your neck. The kisses turn sloppy. Tears burn your cheeks.

“Everything seems to lead up to a party held before Spring break, a fateful night on which their endurance finally runs out.”

He groans, and you sob.

“A rejected kiss, a can of pepper spray, a shared bed. What happens next?”

JJK – Gojo, Yuta

BNHA – Hawks, Denki, Kirishima

HQ – Miya twins

CSM – Yoshida

BLLK - Nagi

[north-noire]

My Michael Afton throughout the years! ft. his own little doodles. I'll try to be brief about the timeline and how my Michael was without saying too much since it'll be explored in the Hidden Hands AU fic's chapters anyway so I won't say all the details. Feel free to read if you guys like! I have a lot to say about him.

1983 (FNAF 4) - Michael was 12 or 13-ish when the Bite happened. Very reckless yet adventurous kid. Didn't really hate Evan (William, as much as he had a soft spot for Evan, still loved Michael all the same), just had really bad friends and influence (his friends were mostly bullies) - and didn't really like that he's being told to parent a little brother he had no idea how to take care of. It didn't help that Evan tended to be a tattle-tail sometimes about the trouble he was getting into. Michael also, deep down, got scared of what the bullies would do to him if he dared stand up for his brother or spoke out against them, so he ends up going along with what they did for his own sake. After the Bite, Michael was still deeply guilty about what he did to Evan, and it haunts him every night, knowing he had no good excuse but irresponsibility for what he did to his brother, because after all, it wasn't like William wasn't giving him enough attention. Michael just knew that he deserved anything unfortunate coming to him, but is genuinely surprised that his father kept telling him he loved him all the same. From this point on, he becomes easily troubled, tends to stay close to his dad. Makes sure he follows the rules and doesn't do trouble. Just wants to do a complete personality shift, and is deeply ashamed of who he was before. 1985 (Charlie's death, Fredbear's Family Diner shuts down) - Michael was 15 here. Over the years, he slowly isolated himself from most of the people in his life since he gets worried about his past scars coming back to haunt him. Mostly a recluse and reserved. He's not handling things well after Charlie's death and a family divorce - not to mention the non-existent social life he had. Just prefers to be left alone, but he's nice if you get to know him. Doesn't really have a good relationship with Elizabeth, but is actually pretty close with William. Feels extremely guilty and hates himself/blames himself for Charlie's death. He gets paranoid easily, as he thinks whoever took Charlie is now after him, but his father tells him to not worry too much about it. 1987 (FNAF 2) - (17) Slowly having a good relationship with Elizabeth. Starts to get into stuff like the supernatural and becomes superstitious to a degree over the years. In public, he's mostly polite and nice, but his actual personality shows through whenever he's with his father or Elizabeth - he's sarcastic, and has quite a dark sense of humor, can be a bit of a rebel, he's just more subtle about it. A bit of an over-thinker - he gets lost in his imagination/head easily. Has a (surprisingly) good relationship with his dad, as he's not really afraid to be himself around him - sometimes gifts him funny things or something he knows his dad would love/would use (he gifts William a rabbit's foot - for good luck, he says). He also helped William build the Fun-Times with blueprints and other technicalities (He's not really aware of the questionable features they had, unfortunately). He couldn't really come with his father and Elizabeth on Circus Baby's Pizza World opening due to things he had to catch up with his home-schooling, he had been skipping classes to work on the Fun-Times, but he really wanted to graduate highschool with a bang, so he's giving everything his all, here. Then Elizabeth suddenly goes missing all of a sudden, and, well... I would say more, but my fic sort of takes a canon-divergence route around FNAF 2/SL-FNAF 1 so that would spoil half of the stuff I've been working/writing about! Reference-sheet wise, I just wanted to show how he progresses from a rebellious, happy and adventurous kid into a more reclused, anxious and soft-spoken adult. Sorry for the long post! I've just been wanting to talk about him for some time now. There's a looot more that I've left out but yeah that's because there will be more in the fic!

[astroboots]

Every You Every Me | Issue #7

COLLABORATED WITH @thirstworldproblemss

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You finally get some answers out of Miguel about who you are to him.

Word count: 5,700 words.

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss' Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

"So let's take it from the top," you tell him, as you sit down and put down the Trenta-sized caramel flavored hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and chocolate syrup in front of the man named Miguel O'Hara.

The two of you are sitting across from each other at a small booth at the nearest Starbucks you were able to find, seeing as you're homeless now, and there's nowhere else you could think of to go.

He's dressed in a large fitted hoodie that drapes down to his thighs. Where he's managed to find something that is oversized in length on him, you don't know because he's not exactly short.

"I'm from a dimension known as Earth-928," Miguel says.

Before he can continue, you raise one hand, and you can see his right eyebrow twitch unhappily at the interruption. 

"Yes?"

"Just to clarify, so we don't have another ‘coffee cake’ misunderstanding. When you say Earth-928, do you mean a different version of the Earth we’re on now? Or is this a habitable planet in another galaxy that happens to be partially named Earth?"

"It's a parallel universe characterized by distinct physical parameters and initial conditions, accounting for the diverse manifestations of our observable universe. So still Earth," he says, sweeping his gaze across the café, nose wrinkling the way one does when there's something off-putting in their vicinity. "Just a little bit less primitive."

Of course he would say that, wouldn't be able to resist the jab would he.

You peer up at him across the table. He is very technical and thorough with his explanations. But as grateful as you are for him finally being willing to answer your questions, you hadn't expected those answers to be quite so information dense. You need to pick your questions more carefully or you are going to have to go down the street to buy yourself a notebook in order to keep up.

"How did you end up on this Earth?" you ask.

"Where I'm from, I'm a scientist, a researcher. One of the things I studied was the theory of physical cosmology and the existence of the multiverse. My work was concentrated on the theoretical ability to navigate between distinct universes within a hypothetical multiverse–”

Ah shit, you should've been more narrow in your question. Should have asked him to simplify it a bit more for you. Because now you're sitting here blinking up at him, pretending you understand half of what he's saying. 

It makes sense that he’s STEM. He speaks like the type. Smart as hell with none of the social skills to gauge whether the other person is following the conversation. 

Listening to him reminds you of that time in college, when you'd walked into the wrong lecture hall, wound up in advanced chemistry instead of your math class, felt too awkward to leave and just sat there drawing doodles with an attentive expression until the class was over. 

And he’s still at it, “– employing advanced mechanisms that manipulate or transcend conventional spacetime frameworks, enabling exploration–"

"Okay, wait, hold on a sec," you interrupt, once it becomes obvious he’s not going to stop any time soon on his own. "Can you... simplify, please?"

He stops mid-sentence, taking a deep breath as he looks up at the ceiling and considers your request, with a serious expression as if he's thinking really hard on it. "I’m a scientist. I study the multiverse. I built a parallel universe traversal device, it allows me to visit different dimensions." Your brain feels insulted that it clearly took more mental effort for him to dumb it down for you than to just give the supergenius version.

“So… a machine that allows you to jump between alternative universes?” 

“Yes.” 

There’s a pause between you as you run through the questions in your mental list you want to tick off now that he’s turned cooperative and talkative. But with everything that’s happened in the last handful of hours, a lot of the questions you previously had seemed outdated. The one question, the most important one, you’ve wanted to ask from the start though remains. 

"Who am I to you?"

Miguel takes the large sized drink in his even larger hands and somehow this big paper cup still manages to look tiny in his grip. "You and I were... involved," he says.

You frown. ‘Involved’ is such a vague term. It belongs in the trash with other useless terms to describe relationships: “situationship”, “complicated”, you hate them all. 

"So I was your girlfriend?"

"Yeah, something like that," he concede, fidgeting with the thin gold chain looped around his neck, his eyes not quite meeting yours, like he's embarrassed to use the term.

‘Something like that,’ you chew on his answer unhappily, sympathizing with your other dimensional self and how the other you seemed to have snagged a commitment phobe. 

Other-you, who isn’t here in this dimension with Miguel. You wonder why that is. 

"What happened to me?" you ask.

His eyes are glued to the table,  not looking up at you as he answers you in a voice so quiet you can barely hear it. "She died."

"Oh."

The revelation shouldn’t take you by surprise. 

Every time Miguel’s brought up your other self, it’s been tinted with earth-shattering sadness. It's not hard to put one and one together and come to the conclusion that whatever happened to you in this other dimension didn't end happily.

Still it's an odd feeling to know that out there, somewhere, a version of you has died. A version of you that was clearly very important to the man in front of you.

"I'm sorry," you tell him.

It feels silly to say. It's bizarre to give your condolences over your own parallel death, but Miguel looks so heartbroken. He’s slumped in his seat, large shoulders rounded until his frame looks so much smaller than you're used to, and you don't know what else to do.

"So what is happening to me now," you start, not sure how to word what the phenomena that you're going through is, "these continuous near-death experiences, is that how she died?"

"Yeah."

"And do you know why that... kept happening to her? Why is it happening to me?"

"I don't, and I don't know how to stop it. Believe me I tried."

He cradles the paper cup in his hands, the grip a little bit tighter now until he's creasing the paper and the caramel liquid oozes and leaks from the top.

"What I do know is that the universe isn’t going to stop trying to kill you, no matter what you do. And with every near death incident you manage to survive, these incidents will escalate in nature, until..." he stops, eyes flickering away from the cup to meet yours, but it's like he loses courage and doesn't want to say the last part.

"Until, what?" you prompt.

"Until your dimension collapses."

The blood freezes in your veins. "Wait, collapses!? What do you mean?"

"I can't guarantee it will happen again. But that's what happened last time. When the other you kept cheating death, the universe eventually started to collapse in on itself."

You slump back in your chair, trying to process what you've just been told. What does that mean? That even if you managed to defy all odds to survive, doing so would doom the rest of this universe as you know it?

"When will that happen?" you ask, and you're surprised you manage to get the words out because there is a hard lump in your throat that makes it hurt to even swallow.

"Judging from the trajectory and escalation of events, you have about three months give or take."

The two of you sit in heavy silence, for the moment you're not sure what else to ask him. Because it feels like you are trapped in a building looking for an exit sign, but all that’s tacked onto the brick wall is your death certificate, waiting to be signed and formalized.

There’s no way out. Nowhere to go.

"Give me your hand," he says, breaking the silence. 

You give it to him without hesitation, watching, puzzled, as he takes off his watch and secures it around your wrists.

"Why are you giving me your watch?"

"It's not a watch," he says, then he presses something on the face of it, and an image of a young woman flickers into existence in the space above your wrist, vaguely see-through. A hologram!

"This is Lyla," he introduces.

Wait, wait? Lyla? As in your mom Lyla? You watch the tiny woman floating above your wrist. Short bob-cut, and flashy heart-shaped sunglasses, with a twinkle in her eye. 

The hologram looks nothing like your mom. You part your mouth, about to ask about the name but you're interrupted by the energetic buzz of a female voice greeting you.

"Boss-girl! Long time no see. Want me to catch you up on the latest multiversal gossip? I compiled an edit of highlights set to Despacito."

"Lyla," Miguel warns, tersely. "Not now."

"Ruuuuude! You're the one who woke me up you know."

"Lyla, go back to sleep."

The female avatar grumbles, but then her image flickers away and the watch turns back into, as far as you can tell, just an ordinary watch.

"Why did you name the watch Lyla?"

"It's not a– " He cuts himself off, sighing with exasperation. "Lyla is an advanced A.I. she's going to be with you at all times. She's an added layer of security, built to protect you."

He didn't answer your question. Completely sidestepped it as if the two of you are having two different conversations.

Built to protect you, he'd said. Does that mean he still intends to do that?

"So you're not going to leave?" you ask him.

He leans back in his seat, eyes drifting towards the table. "No."

You look up at him, stumped. Not sure you're understanding what he's saying. Because not even a few hours ago, when the two of you were in your apartment, this man was adamant there was nothing to be done to save you. That he was going to leave and you were never going to see him again.

Right now though, his actions seem to be contradictory to that. You can't make heads or tails of him. Hot and cold doesn’t even begin to cover it. 

"Why not?" you ask, "I mean, not that I’m not grateful, but you seemed pretty set on the whole ‘I can’t save you’ thing. What changed your mind?"

“You did.” His eyes narrow as he looks down at you, crossing his arms ever his chest, "You told me you wanted to live. Have you changed your mind already?"

“Wha– NO! I just want to know why you changed yours.”

“I–” He hesitates, another wave of sadness passing over his face. “I’m a superhero. I save people… or try to. It’s what I do. I’m not gonna just leave you to die after you tell me you want to live.”

It’s a good answer, even if you don’t buy that it’s the whole truth. 

You look down at your wrist, and the shiny chrome of the not-watch he's just gifted you winks back up at you. "Do you think I have a chance of surviving all this?"

"It's pretty hopeless," he says, and there’s no break in his expression as he continues. "Your chances of making it out alive are pretty much mathematically impossible."

It's odd though. Even though he's outlining the futility of your situation, basically telling you to raise the white flag and surrender, there's something contradictory in the tone of his voice. 

"What do you want to do?" he asks you.

It’s a challenge, you realize. An encouragement. He has faith in you. It's all of these things rolled into one. As if he's telling you to prove the universe wrong.

"I want to live," you answer. "If the universe collapses in three months, then please stay with me. Give me time to solve this and find a way to stay alive."

His mouth curls into a hint of a smile. The very first you've seen from him since you've met. It's bright and boyish, erasing the harsh lines of his stern expression until it gives way for something much softer underneath that makes your heart leap in your chest with triumph.

You grin, a strange elation of happiness buzzing in you as you stretch out your hand to him, in an invitation for a handshake to seal the deal.

"Deal?"

Miguel leans over the table, clasping your hand in his much larger one as he squeezes it back gently.

"Deal." That small smile from before is still there. "So what's next?" he asks.

The thing you never realized, being an ordinary person bereft of super genes or other superhuman powers is just how convenient commuting can be if you have them. 

No longer do you have to brave the Lynchian nightmare that is the NYC subway system. Half-naked manic street preachers giving sermons as you’re held hostage, with nowhere else to go in the carriage. Being chased down by a drunk trumpeting Mariachi band. Instead, all you need to do to get from point A to point B (A: being the Chrysler building and B: the building formerly known as your home) is to hold on tight to Miguel as he swings you both above the city gridlock.

You imagine that this is what paragliding must feel like, except it's so much better because here you don't have to do the safety training beforehand or pay $3,000 for the privilege.

The city skyline is a dark evening blue, dotted with the sparkling lights of office buildings, cab roof lights and street lamps, as the wind ruffles through the fabric of your clothes.

It's such a different sight when you're flying above instead of walking on the streets below, that you don't even clock that you're in your neighborhood, until you see a building with a collapsed wall that's been blocked off, looking like a crash site. Only then do you realize... you're home.

Miguel carefully sets you down on your feet on a small patch of concrete that is clear of the rubble and destruction.

"Why did you want to come back here again?" he asks. 

It’s a good question. Now that you're here, standing in the middle of charred debris and cracked bricks, you're not sure either. You had some vague plans of seeing what you could salvage, hoping for some clothes, maybe your electric toothbrush, or really just any of your stuff. Something that’s yours, no matter how small, to hold on to after the events of today have ripped away life as you know it.

But there’s nothing left. The furniture, all your books and knick knacks, and even your dirty laundry piles have been demolished. Your home as you know it is gone. There's only piles and piles of rubble and traces of white fire extinguisher foam on the ground. The fire has been out for hours, but the pungent smell of smoke and sulfur still pervades the air. 

"You okay?" Miguel asks.

He's still standing at the outer edges of the apartment, close to where your window would have been if a helicopter hadn't crashed through it.

"Yeah... I guess the silver lining is that I didn't have anything expensive. Though it'd been nice if I could've saved my mom's Le Creuset set or at least the nanny-cam so I could return it and get a refund," you joke glibly. 

You nudge aside some concrete rubble with the cap of your shoes. There's nothing under there, no treasured memorabilia that's still miraculously intact. Just more burnt concrete and rubble.

"Why did you have a nanny cam?"

You turn around at his question, to see him hovering close to you, one eyebrow raised with an unhappy set to his jaw. 

From the displeased expression on his face, he's probably misunderstanding something here. Probably thinks you're operating a very unlucrative Onlyfans business, when what you've really been doing is spy on him and his nightly visits. You don't know which is worse to confess to, so you don't confess to anything.

"No reason," you say, ignoring the way his already raised eyebrow twitches with irritation at your lack of an answer.

"Come on, let's go," he says, and he waves towards you in a come hither motion like he's commanding a dog.

"Go?" you ask him. "It's past midnight. My place, as you can see, is wrecked. Go where exactly?"

Miguel shoots you a strange look. "A hotel," he says, like it's the most obvious thing, and– okay, he's not completely wrong in that assumption.

Problem is, you didn't have time to pick up your wallet or phone before your impromptu interdimensional visit. They’ve been incinerated along with all the rest of your worldly possessions, which means you don't have any way to pay for a hotel.

Plus Manhattan hotel prices average $400 a night. Even if you still had access to your debit cards, your budget’s pretty tight right now after all the capital you invested in your unhinged quest to trap the superhero before you. 

"In the city? I don't have that kind of money and it will take months for any insurance payouts to come in."

You should know. As an insurance claims adjuster, you know you’ll be lucky if your claim is processed before the end of the year. And, ugh, just the thought of the paperwork you’ll have to fill out is enough to give you an anxiety migraine.

"I’ll cover the room," Miguel says casually before holding out a hand to you, "Come on, let’s go."

When Miguel said he’d cover it, you expected a reasonably-priced room at one of the Days Inn across the river or the like. Hopefully a place with no rats or bed bugs, and maybe clean bedding over a somewhat comfortable mattress for you to pass out on if you were lucky.

You didn't expect this.

Standing in front of the Midtown Four Seasons, you find yourself on sleek marble so polished you can see your own reflection. You haven't even stepped a foot inside yet and there are two old fashioned doormen, wearing immaculately fitted suits, with an even more impressive posture opening the majestic double-set doors for you as you approach.

It's swanky as hell, and you can’t help gawking like a tourist, eyes glued to the decadent carved ceilings that must be at least 30 feet tall, soaring above you. Honey-colored limestone that looks like it’s been looted from Ancient Rome.

You feel more than a little bit out of place. This is way outside of your budget. You could probably work your job for a lifetime, and not have enough disposable income to stay the night at a place like this.

"Uhm, Miguel... this place is way too–" you start, turning towards him.

But as you were busy lamenting the state of the housing market, he's already walked away from you (for such a bulky guy, he moves swiftly and silently) and as you whip your head around to find him, he's already standing in front of the receptionist.

Damned antelope legged man, would it kill him to wait up for you once in a while? You run up after him and have to tip-toe in order to see over his shoulder because the giant mammoth is blocking the check-in counter.

And wow, even the receptionist here is of a different caliber than the ones you'd find at Holiday Inn. A fashionable bob-cut with razor sharp edges, looking like a model cut out from a Vogue cover.

"Do you have a reservation, Sir?"

You half-expect him to say no, and that the two of you would have to tuck your tail between your legs and walk out of here to the backdrop of a sad trombone playing.

To your astonishment he says your name. The receptionist tip-taps away at her keyboard and then she nods and smiles gracefully at you both. 

"Yes of course. After reviewing your reservation details, I am pleased to inform you that all necessary arrangements have already been made, including advance payment and verification of your identification. Your room is ready for you, we trust you will enjoy your stay."

She flashes you a pearly white smile so shiny it's almost blinding and hands you a hotel key card. 

When you turn around, to your confusion Miguel is no longer next to you. How does he keep disappearing like this? 

"Cielito," Miguel’s voice calls. The nickname doesn’t register at first. It doesn't even occur to you that he’s referring to you, until he barks it out a second time. 

Your head darts up to see him standing by the elevator, tapping his feet impatiently as he waits for you to make it over to him.

"How did you do that?" you whisper loudly to him as you step into the elevator. "Where did you get my ID? How did you make a reservation? How did you--"

He takes your hand, mid-sentence, turning your wrist upwards and taps the watch.

"The computer systems in this universe are child's play for Lyla to manipulate. Reservations, money, ID, she can take care of all of that easily," he explains.

"She can do that?" you ask, and Miguel merely nods at you as the elevator closes behind the two of you.

You tip your head down to inspect your gifted watch. In awe of this technical marvel that would make Siri look like it’s from the stone-ages. You wonder if she can boost your credit scores. She could probably hack any wi-fi password so you'd never have to worry about data throttling again. She could get you table reservations for Libertine! The possibilities are endless!

You turn to Miguel. "Can Lyla get me Beyoncé tickets?" you ask. 

He just shakes his head at you with what almost qualifies as an amused smile.

The room upstairs is massive. 

It’s easily three times the size of your little studio apartment, and the ceilings are twice as tall, with a hanging glass chandelier that’s sparkling bright enough to blind you. It looks like one of those places featured in Architectural Digest. 

Everything is in an art deco style, with expensive looking furniture and even more expensive art hanging on the one spare wall that isn’t covered in floor to ceiling windows. There are large shelves and a sleek looking kitchen, complete with an opulent looking velvet lounge chair of emerald green that looks like something a Roman emperor would be fed grapes on. 

In this colossal space of a room, there is only one bed. One colossal, plush-mattress-topped, goose down duvet and probably 1,000,000,000 thread count sheet covered bed.

You tense up, not sure what the arrangements Miguel had in mind. Did he want the two of you to sleep in the same bed?

Miguel did pay for the room, so you’re not going to start voicing objections. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time in the short time span that you two have known each other to do that. This bed is also a lot wider than your tiny double bed, so it wouldn’t be the cramped disaster it was last night. You’d just have to make sure to use the bathroom before bed this time so he doesn’t jab your full bladder in the morning again. 

Without saying anything, Miguel strides across the length of the room with impatient and determined steps. His hand reaches for the balcony doors and slides them open. 

"Wait wait, where are you going?" you ask him as you run up to the middle of the room. 

“I’m sleeping outside,” he says over his shoulder, and your mind boggles with that. 

“Why? Isn’t it better for you to stay here?”

"This is the 62nd floor. That’s about as safe as you’re going to get. I’ll keep a lookout to make sure no more helicopters come crashing in.” 

You’re not sure if he means the last part as a joke or not, but as you watch his broad back retreating as he walks away from you, a sickening sort of the deja vu twists through your chest. 

I can’t save you, he’d said back in your apartment, Nothing can. 

The feeling clawing at your chest feels alarmingly like panic. It screams that he’s leaving you. That he’s never coming back. That you’ll never see him again. 

You’re being irrational, and you know it. You remind yourself that he wouldn’t have done this much for you only to bail in the middle of the night, but that doesn’t stop the fear that’s festering, sharp and urgent, under your skin, or the way your heart races, your whole body flashing hot and cold at the same time. 

You want him to stay. 

“Miguel,” you call out, and he immediately stops and turns to look back at you, one eyebrow raised in a skeptical question. 

Please stay. 

You open your mouth, but the words won’t come out. You can’t ask this man—this big, sarcastic, rude hulk of a man—to have a sleepover with you because you’re scared to be alone in the dark. He would laugh you out of the hotel room.

“Uhm… thank you,” you say instead, but it’s no less sincere, “For everything.”

His eyes soften, the sharp narrowness of them easing up. “It’s fine,” he mumbles, and despite the cold chill of the evening, you think you can see a faint flush blooming in his cheeks, before he quickly ducks his face from you. “I’ll be right outside if something happens.” 

He turns back around and walks out, closing the patio doors with a gentle click behind him, leaving you by yourself. 

It’s quiet. 

You survey the empty room you’re in. Without Miguel’s large frame taking up space, it seems even bigger than it did before. 

It’s a beautiful room. Something that you’re pretty sure you’ve seen in a movie set. You don’t know why you’re not as excited as you were before. This is you living your Pretty Woman moment. You should be filling up the big jacuzzi tub you saw with bubbles. Heck, maybe ask Lyla to order you a bottle of champagne from room service. 

Instead, your eyes linger on the glass patio doors leading to the balcony terrace. You walk over to the bed, perching yourself down on the edge of the mattress, then flop down. 

Might as well try to sleep, you think to yourself as you climb under the covers and switch off the light. The best thing you can do right now is catch yourself some rest so you’ll be alert while trying to figure out your next steps tomorrow.

3 months… That’s what Miguel told you.

That’s all the time you have left. 

That means you don’t have time to waste, but you also have no idea where to start. The local library doesn’t exactly carry any resources on how to stop the universe from trying to kill you. 

The Universe. 

An infinite cosmos, grander than any human being can possibly comprehend. This vast space containing all the galaxies with its billions of stars and planets, where an individual being does not even register as a speck, and it wants you dead. How can you possibly fight against those odds? 

You lie wide-eyed and awake staring into the dark of the room, and the feeling of dread gnaws into you. 

You don’t want to be alone right now. Turning in the bed, your eyes find their way back to the blank slate of the pitched night outside the balcony doors. 

You really wished he had stayed with you. 

Sitting upright in the bed, you consider your options. You can lie back down. Suffer insomnia and the existential horror of knowing the universe is trying to murder you. Or you can man up, swallow down whatever tiny morsel of your pride you have left and ask Miguel to come back inside and stay with you. 

Flinging the duvet from your body, you get up to walk over to the balcony. You hesitate for a moment before tapping the window pane the way you might knock on a door, giving a polite head's up before you slide the balcony patio open. But when you poke your head out, turning your head left and right, Miguel's nowhere to be found. 

Okay, that’s weird. He said he’d be right outside if you needed him. You walk up to the ledge of the balcony terrace, leaning over the rail and peer down to see him dangling upside down, from the ledge of your balcony. The sight nearly makes you scream. 

"Miguel!” 

At you calling his name, he pulls himself up, one clawed hand gripping at the concrete wall as he climbs his way up and over to you. He makes it look easy, as if gravity does not exist for him, and it’s only a moment until he’s perched on the ledge of the balcony, facing you. 

“What’s wrong?” he demands, eyes concerned, and you’re suddenly aware of how very close he is. His face mere inches from yours, your noses nearly touching.

“What’s wrong? You’re hanging upside down from the 62nd floor! What are you, a bat?!"

“Why did you come out here?” he clarifies, and his words give you pause. You try to gather your thoughts after the bizarre sight you just walked into and remember what you came out here for. 

He’s still looking at you with his full and intense concentration that makes your skin prickle with warmth.

God, it’s embarrassing to ask. You feel like you’re five years old, asking your parents to turn the nightlight on, even though you know you’re a big girl now and aren’t supposed to be afraid of monsters hiding under your bed any more. 

You look down on your hands, where you’re wringing them together, then back up at him, and make yourself spit it out, "Could you… maybe… stay with me tonight?" 

His eyes widen at your question, but he doesn’t actually answer you and gives you no physical indication one way or the other. 

"I feel safer when you're with me,” you admit. 

“I am with you out here,” he counters, because of course he can’t make this easy for you.  

“I can’t see you out here.”

The line of his shoulder eases, and he ducks his head down with a resigned sigh. "Fine. Get back inside, Cielito. You're going to catch a cold like this."

You shuffle back inside to your bed, watching out of the corner of your eye as  he follows you inside and settles himself on the lounge sofa. He’s so tall that his feet are sticking out over the armrests, like a long-legged stork. 

Hiding a smile, you climb back into bed, wrapping the bedding all around yourself.

“Good night,” you call out, and he makes a grumpy noise of acknowledgment. 

Your head drops back onto the soft pillow, and you close your eyes, ready to sleep. It’s such a nice bed. The sheets are cool and soft against your skin and smell of fresh eucalyptus. The mattress is the most comfortable you ever remember resting on, firm but somehow soft at the same time. You feel like you’re sleeping on a cloud. 

Moments go by, and you revel in the sumptuous bed, waiting for the best sleep of your life to claim you. 

Except it doesn’t. 

Somehow… you still can’t fall asleep. Is it… too soft maybe? You turn in the bed, twisting your torso to get into a position you can comfortably sink into, but something doesn’t feel right. There’s no lumpiness like at home, but that should be a good thing. 

Except… despite the decadent softness of the bed. Despite the fact that the sheets probably have a thread count with more zeros than your checking and savings accounts combined. Despite all of the luxury that surrounds you, you still find yourself tossing and turning and wide fucking awake.

The bed is too big. You don’t know what to do with all this space. Your body is not accustomed to this sort of decadence. What if you suffocate sinking into this soft fluffy pillow in your sleep? What if you toss and turn until you fall off this massive bed and break your neck? Maybe that’s how out of all of the universe’s attempts to kill you, you end up dying? 

Fuck! 

You can’t sleep. 

You turn to your side and stare into the velvet lounge chaise on the opposite side of your room, where Miguel is. 

Quietly, you pad up to his still form until you’re standing in front of him and hunch over, trying to decide how rude it would be to wake him up again when there's nothing he can do about your stupid insomnia anyway.

In the dim light, you spot something glinting at you. Looking closer, you notice that the thin chain looped around his neck has escaped his shirt to pool on the fabric of the sofa cushion under him. You gently drag the loose end of the necklace toward you, and find a smooth golden band threaded onto it.

Picking it up cautiously, you flip it in your hand and find that there's something engraved on the inside.  It's hard to see in the darkness, but when you lean closer and squint your eyes, you can just make out what it says.

'MO'—undeniably the initials of one Miguel O'Hara.

Twisting the ring slightly, you find a tiny plus sign followed by your own initials, and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach.

Oh.

The memory of sitting across Miguel at Starbucks returns to you, when you had asked him who you were to him. You think of the avoidant gaze and how he couldn't look you in the eye.

‘Something like that,’ huh?

Guess the other you wasn't just his girlfriend after all, you think, chest drawn so tight it’s painful.

Holding the wedding band in the palm of your hand, you slide down to sit down on the floor with your back pressed against the chaise lounge.

Your heart aches for the man in front of you and everything he's lost.  You really, really hope you're not going to end up as just another regret on his list.

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: As always to my best friend @thirstworldproblemss I am half asleep and running on fumes. I'm wording things poorly but I just want you to know that I am very happy I have you. Thank you for being my friend and for the time we get to spend together. I have the most fun when I'm with you.

Also to @guruan who is my muse, my source of inspiration. This chapter is dedicated to her because have you seen this beautiful piece of artwork she did for EYEM?!

[actuallysaiyan]

Heart To Heart(Emo!Nanami Kento x Fem!Bimbo!Reader)

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, college AU, Emo!Nanami, Bimbo!Reader, reader is actually a sweetheart and smart, blowjobs, making out, alcohol mentions, Kento is a bit of an asshole in this one, fluff, mentions of trauma word count: 3k! pairings: Emo!College!Kento Nanami x Fem!Bimbo!Reader summary: you and Nanami have classes together in university, and he just thinks you screwed your way into these classes. he makes it known one day what he thinks of you, and you snap. but when you meet up at a party, things get spicy.

Nanami had himself convinced that you were bad news. Something about the way you were always applying that sticky lipgloss while looking at yourself in your cute Hello Kitty compact mirror just drove him insane. He had finally gotten himself into a very good university after leaving the sorcerer world behind, and here you were ruining his experience.

You were in quite a few of his classes, which surprises him. You don’t look like you know anything about finances or business, let alone simple arithmetic. You with your eyes so big and expressive, your lips just so juicy and pouty. How could you possibly know anything that he was working so hard on learning? How could a single thought run through that dumb head of yours?

And yet, you were so kind to him. Even when he brushed you off and gave you the cold shoulder, you were always there to lend a hand when you could. You were someone who would come to class with a box of baked goods to offer to everyone. You always had a spare pencil for someone, or an extra notepad to share. And you never ever said no to someone’s request to copy your notes whenever they had missed a class. In reality, despite your appearance, you were someone who just genuinely cared.

Still, Kento was often left fuming whenever he spotted you. He knew about the archetypes and stereotypes of those around him and even himself. He knew that people thought he was a freak for his appearance, and yet they would never know the horrors and trauma he had gone through. He keeps his hair long in the front, his hoodie is always pulled up whenever he gets the chance. He’s even wearing black nail polish and hardly ever washes off the leftover eyeliner and mascara.

The others look at him like he’s some sort of plague, and yet you don’t even glance at him like that. Your looks towards him are soft and sweet, but he just knows there is no way you wouldn’t trick a guy like him. Nanami has to remind himself that you’re just as bad as the others, and all the kind things you do for anyone, it’s all just a plot to have everyone under the spiked heel of your cute stilettos. You were a sweet girl, but underneath it all, Nanami was convinced you could scratch out his eyes with a swipe of your perfectly manicured nails.

Yet he could never really pull himself away from you completely. You always smell so good, and your lips look so plump and juicy. Kento swears he can smell your lip gloss from a mile away. You’re almost too good to be true, he thinks to himself often. You must have a trail of guys following you around, simping and moaning just for you. So Nanami figures it’s just easier to hate you and deem you unworthy of his presence or his words.

Things change one day when you’re partnered up with him for a finance class project. You sit at your desk, doodling something in your cute pink notebook. There’s a feathery pom pom on the end of your pen. Nanami rolls his eyes and scoffs as he sits down near you, not daring to even be that close to you. He keeps his distance, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Hiya Ken~” you coo at him, making his heart skip a beat at the softness of your voice.

Kento scowls, “It’s Kento. Not Ken.”

You pout softly, “Oh, yeah okay. Kento it is.”

You duck your head down a little, somehow feeling so self-conscious. Nobody has made you feel this way before. You’re dejected because you’ve always thought he was so cute, and now that you get the chance to shoot your shot, he’s rejecting you already. So you begin looking at the page explaining the project and you discuss things with him quietly. He seems so disinterested in what you have to say, his eyes flickering towards other people in the classroom. He wishes he could be partnered up with anyone else but you. He’d rather do the project alone if he’s being completely honest. You start to feel like you aren’t wanted at all.

“Listen, we don’t even really need to do any of this together. We can just work on our own parts and submit them together.” You suggest, your cheeks a little pink from not being able to do a simple project with the guy you like.

Nanami watches you carefully, “Hmph, I doubt you can even complete your side of things.”

Your heart aches at this. You know you don’t have the appearance of a scholarly type, but you do well in your studies. You worked so hard to get this spot in the university. You come from a small town, and you never really had much growing up. So for you to finally get this shot and to be able to treat yourself to cute things you’ve always longed for, it means the world to you. But you were growing a bit more upset with every passing moment.

You thrust the pen in his direction, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kento smirks, “Come on, there’s no way you really understand this material. Just admit that you got here by using your good looks and charm.”

This made you recoil. Your stomach was in knots from the thought of him implying that you fucked your way into this school. You frown and your big eyes fill up with tears. Suddenly, Nanami doesn’t feel so confident about what he’s saying anymore. He’s got guilt and regret rising up in his chest like acid.

“Is that truly what you think? You see a girl wearing pink and liking cute things and you think she’s fucked her way into university? Well screw you, Nanami Kento!”

You rise up from your seat and gather all your things. You excuse yourself to the teacher and make your way into the hallway. Tears slide down your cheeks, ruining the makeup you so meticulously put on this morning. You feel your stomach turning in knots, not sure how to even process all of this. You know you can prove him wrong, and you will.

ONE WEEK LATER

Despite the issues with Kento, you were still able to complete your side of the project and hand it in early. When you attended your classes, you ignored him. Your heart longed for him, but you were beginning to think maybe people were right about him. He’s just a freak. He’s mean and will probably cast a hex on you. Still, you think that people were always being too harsh. Just the way that Nanami had been with you. Judging people before getting to know them was always a bad habit that most people had, but you were someone who tried not to pass the judgement.

The weekend was fast approaching and the big party at the local frat house was what was on everyone’s mind. Everyone was going, and you knew that even Kento had been invited. Despite still feeling so sour after what had happened, you decide that you’re going to attend that party. And you were going to show him what he was missing out on. Just because you like cute things and wore makeup didn’t mean you weren’t someone smart and fun.

The night of the party arrives and you show up dressed in a sexy, tight pink dress. It’s strapless and hugs your curves in all the right ways. You talk to a few people, mingling as you get a few drinks into you. You’re not even really sure that he was going to show up, you were just feeling a little hopeful. The more drinks you had, the more you wanted him to be there so you could apologize about your outburst.

The moment he walks in the door, your heart stops and your breath hitches in your throat. He’s cleaned up, but he still carries himself the same way as usual. The hoodie up over his head, his bangs cascading down over one eye. You see that he’s cleaned up his peeling nail polish, and it seems like he’s applied a clean coat of mascara and eyeliner. You don’t know if you’ve ever seen him put this much effort into his appearance. This makes you wonder if he’s hoping to meet someone here. You look away, your eyes darting down to the drink in your hands.

The music is loud and you try to drown all your insecurities in this drink. You wish he’d come talk to you considering you were much too shy now to approach him. He looks so good tonight too, and you were feeling drunk enough to try to shoot your shot again even if he had made it clear what he truly thought of you. So you just go snag another mixed drink and go to the dancefloor.

It’s not long before you bump into him as you’re on your way to the kitchen for a cup of water. Both of you are a little shy about this at first, and Kento can barely look you in the eyes. He’s mortified that he would bump into you after all the shit he’s said to you.

“Hey,” you say shyly. You drink some of the water.

He smiles sheepishly, “Hi…”

Neither of you really know how to proceed. But eventually it’s all bubbling up inside of each other. Kento fiddles with the guitar pick necklace that sits on his collarbone. You really look so cute tonight—no, you look so sexy. He’s never seen anyone look this good in his entire life.

“Hey Ken…erm, Kento…about the other day,” you begin but he stops you.

He smirks, “I kind of like it when you call me Ken.”

You blush at his words. You have always loved giving people nicknames. It’s just a way of showing you care. You take another sip of your water and giggle gently. Kento reaches up and brushes stray hair from your face.

“So what were you going to say?” He asks, leaning in a little closer.

You smile, “I wanted to apologize for the way I snapped. I guess it wasn’t right of me to tell you to screw yourself.”

It’s Kento’s turn to blush. He begins to explain himself, saying how he completely misunderstood you and judged you even before he got to know you better. He’s profusely apologizing and all of this is going straight to your heart. Before either of you can say anything else, you grab him by the wrist and you lead him to the nearest room with the lock on the door. This happens to be the bathroom.

Once the door is locked, you push him against the wall and kiss him hungrily. This is the moment you can truly feel his body against yours, and you realize that he is quite muscular. Kento groans as your tongue slides into his mouth, rubbing against his in the most sensual way. He’s had sex before, but never has it been this hungry and passionate. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging slightly to pull him even closer to you. You are so desperate to melt into every aspect of him. You want him, you need him more than anything else. You would forgo anything else in this world just to be forever in this moment with him.

“Ken, I think I’ve liked you since the moment I met you,”

Your confession hangs in the air, making his heart race. He didn’t even think someone like you could think twice about him. You’re so pretty and soft and you make him so tongue tied most of the time. Despite his anger and rude treatment towards you, he’s been in denial about his own feelings for you.

“Shit, I’ve been feeling the same. I guess I just couldn’t come to terms with it.”

You don’t let him say anything else, you just capture his lips with yours once more. He pulls you in closer, his large hands caressing your curves through that tight little dress. You moan into his mouth when his hands cup your breasts and squeeze gently. When you pull away to breathe, a string of saliva keeps you connected.

Without another word, you kneel in front of him. Kento cannot believe his eyes as you undo his studded belt and unzip his pants. Regardless of his own feelings of resentment, he’s always thought you had the prettiest lips. The perfect pair to give the kind of blowjobs you only see in the premium porn videos.

Your eyes widen when you pull out his length from the confines of his boxers. He’s not only lengthy, but he’s got the kind of girth that ruins sex with anyone else. You know now that you really don’t want to let him go at all. With a soft giggle, you lean in to kiss the dribbling tip. Kento grunts as he feels your slick lips on his cock. He reaches down to tangle his fingers in your pretty, soft tresses. You spend a long time just pressing sloppy kisses to his cock. Then you lick all the way down the base, your tongue licking at his balls now. He shudders under your ministrations, knowing it’s going to be hard to hold on if he lets you continue for too much longer.

The moment you wrap your lips around the head of his cock and begin taking him into your mouth, Kento knows he’s hooked to this treatment. He knows he’s going to have to fuck you so good to show you how sorry he is about the shit he said about you the other day. You begin bobbing your head up and down, swallowing around him. He lets you suck him with expertise for a little while before he tugs on your hair and pulls you back up to kiss him.

“Get that pretty ass on the counter,” he says as he picks you up. You barely have to do anything as he sets you on the bathroom counter. He leans into another fierce kiss, this time he’s really taking the lead.

Kento doesn’t even bother undressing either of you. He just shoves your dress up over your hips, his other hand busy playing with your soaked pussy. He smirks when he realizes that you’re this aroused just from a little kissing and sucking his cock. He loves that he has this effect on you.

“You this wet just from blowing me?” he teases as his fingers push your panties to the side. Your eyes roll back as he rubs your clit in slow circles.

“Ken…” you breathe. You’re already so needy for him.

He spreads your thighs and spits into his hand. The saliva gets mixed with your own juices to coat his cock before he slides into you with one long thrust. You cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he begins to pump into you. You’ve never ever felt this full in your life. All you can do is hold onto him and have him fuck you stupid.

“Please please…” you beg as the tip of his cock brushes against the sweet spot deep inside you. “Fuck me, Ken.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He picks up his pace, and you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer. You lock your ankles, keeping him in place. He hammers himself into you over and over, his breath hot on your face and neck as he grunts and groans.

“You gonna be my pretty girl?” he asks, locking eyes with you.

You feel so shy all of a sudden, “Y-yours?” You let out a moan when he thrusts into you particularly hard. 

“Yeah, mine. You gonna be my pretty girl?”

Your mind is reeling from all this pleasure. The coil in your stomach is tightening fast, and the thought of being exclusively Kento’s girl seems to be pushing you further and further towards your peak. You gasp as one of his hands slips between you, rubbing your clit slowly and with precision. You can barely think straight at this point. The room is filled with the lewd, wet sounds of your skin slapping together with every harsh thrust.

“Gotta answer me, baby. Or else I won’t let you cum.”

You whine, “Ken, please. I just…I can’t…”

He chuckles darkly. He’s never had this much power during sex before and it’s turning him on. He knows that you’re already such a little cutie and a sweetie, but he could easily turn you into his perfect little spoiled princess. He begins to pull away, making your orgasm slowly subside.

“I’ll be yours! ‘Wanna be only yours!” you squeal, trying to pull him back in.

Kento smirks and then he nips at your lower lip, “That’s what I like to hear.”

He gets back into the rhythm you need to cum. His thumb rubs your clit, making your thighs shudder and shake around him. As the pleasure builds, you feel tears streaming down your cheeks. Your back arches as stars dance in your vision. A shaky breath falls from your plump lips before you cry out his name. Your silky walls begin to pulse and clench around his already throbbing cock, pushing him over the edge just behind you. Shots of his thick, hot cum fill your waiting womb.

Slowly, you both grind against one another to prolong the pleasure. Then you both still, just basking in the afterglow of the pleasure. Kento kisses you softly, using both his hands to wipe away your tears.

“I’m really sorry for that bullshit I said the other day. You’re a good girl,” He says, pecking your lips.

“It’s okay, Ken. I forgive you.”

You’re both interrupted by a loud knock, followed by a series of giggles and cackles. Your cover is blown, but neither of you really care. The only thing that matters is that you have each other.

Kento helps you freshen up and dress once more, and you help him tuck his softening cock back into his pants. Then, hand in hand, you both exit the bathroom. You’re all smiles as you leave the party, walking on cloud nine as you lead him back to your dorm for round two.

[mauesartetc]

A while back I got a comment that demonstrated a misconception as to what the character design process actually entails, and I thought it had real "teachable moment" potential. So let me make this perfectly clear:

Drawing a character is NOT the same as designing one.

Let's say I wanted to draw a guy. No backstory, no defined personality traits or preferences, no details about his current life, just doodling some random, generic guy who popped into my head.

That's just a drawing.

But what if I decided to flesh him out more? What if I wanted his appearance to reflect his lifestyle and inner life as well? Here's where the note-taking comes in.

And now for the visual research:

I thought the bodybuilding angle would provide a fun contrast with this guy's profession. The mental image of a huge, burly dude working on a clock or watch with tiny, precise movements just makes me smile. Perhaps I could give him small, nimble hands that would suit his line of work.

Now that I have a better idea of how Mikhail's face and body will look, it's time to establish a pose.

Of course, I never expected to employ all the personality traits I started out with inside this single pose; those were just a jumping-off point. No one drawing will ever be able to encapsulate every single facet of a character, unless they're extraordinarily flat and generic (see also: random guy I doodled at the start of this post). If I wanted to write a story with this guy, I'd have to figure out how all the traits play off each other and how they'd cause him to react to different situations. There would be a lot more note-taking and development involved, but for the sake of keeping this post (somewhat) brief, let's just focus on visuals for now.

On to color!

I decided to give Mikhail a carnation in his pocket (for its round shape), specifically a red one, which represents deep love and an aching heart. Thus, the flower needed to maintain its red color for the symbolism to come through.

For some reason I initially pictured this guy wearing a pink shirt (perhaps as an offshoot of the "romantic" angle), but I wanted to try some different colors inspired by the 70s catalog pages I found. I ended up really liking the contrast of the cool blue shirt with the warm red pants, and that option made it into my top three as a result. I lined them up next to each other to compare them, and in the end, blue won out over pink. I think it also reflects the "colder", more cerebral, less-emotional parts of his personality well (namely "systematic", "stern", and "callous"- one from each column!). Just goes to show that you shouldn't get too attached to your first draft, as better ideas are just around the corner.

I then lightened the blue of the shirt so it wouldn't compete so much with the rest of the outfit, and wouldn't be quite as loud and "in your face". Mikhail strikes me as a bit of an introvert, so the calmer, quieter blue is a better fit. I added a darker belt and watchband and de-saturated the flower just a bit to make the values feel more balanced, and I think we've got it!

Let's see the final result!

Y'all, I was not expecting this process to make me emotional, but there's something special about fully realizing a little guy you've spent hours working on. All of a sudden you look at him and go, "Oh my god, there he is. That's him." This man wasn't even a twinkle in my eye a couple weeks ago and now I'd protect him with my life.

And the thing is, the only reason I'm calling this design "done" for now is that I basically just brought it into existence to make a point. But if this dude were attached to a larger story, he'd be nowhere near finished. I'd have to make a ton more iterations and go a lot more in depth with my research than I did (especially with the Armenian cultural stuff). Overall, though, I hope this quick project properly highlighted the difference between a single drawing and a more fleshed-out character.

Later!

[adyophene]

lucifer x husk is something i never knew i needed and as a multishipper im screaming

literally. king of hell x some alcoholic furry guy

i love them i need to know how they wouldve met, fallen for each other and started dating. and how much thatd piss alastor off

Ooh I am so happy other people are enjoying this pair as much as I am! I've gotten a few asks about my headcanons for them, and I am happy to blab on and on. Fair warning. This is gunna be a long and rambling essay.

I'm gunna put it all under a readmore, just cause I want to insert the art I've done of them so far, since I've been half-heartedly trying to tell a visual story through the doodles.

Okay. On we go!

How they met;

We did see them technically meet in the show, where they shared their singular canon piece of dialogue, which was just Husk saying 'hey'. And then in the finale where we see a literal split second moment of Lucifer holding Husk's arm.

(also seeing the sweet looks huskerdust is giving each other here just makes me feel so delulu for writing this all, but crackships are silly by definition, so lets get back to the lucihusk) For me, what I imagined, is after the Hotel is finished its rebuilding, that is when Husk and Lucifer finally actually meet in a proper manner. I think Lucifer would be trying to make a good impression on all Charlie's friends at this point, endeared to all of them from their actions during the finale. Unfortunately, I think he is also the King of Bad First Impressions.

[Note. I think at this point Lucifer wouldn't even remember Husk's name quite yet. I think he would call him 'Keekee' ( by accident) or 'Dusk' (confidently incorrect) or just be like "Hey!.... Uh... You?" until Charlie or Vaggie finally corrected him. ]

Husk, on the other hand, I feel like maybe wouldn't gel with Lucifer right away. Wouldn't hate him, but also maybe not be enamored with him right away. Same as Lucifer, maybe he would have sweetened on him a bit through the hotel's rebuilding, but I think they'd start out at very neutral feelings. Maybe a vague sense of 'He's okay, but I don't know if we will really get along.'

Despite this, Lucifer is persistent, and he's going to be everyone's (except maybe Al, unless they start getting along by s2) buddy. He'd start hanging around the bar and participate in the redemption exercises.

Now, we know Lucifer struggles with depression, and I think he would be trying real hard to mask anything going on during this time. They defeated Adam! They rebuilt the Hotel! He believes in Charlie's dream, and he's more involved with her life and other people than he has been for years.

His only issue being Husk sees right through it, both because Husk is perceptive, but also because even the King of Hell can't help but have a lonely night or two at the bar where he ends up venting about his divorce and subsequent lingering loneliness.

[snapcube ref aside, )I really do think Husk would start to feel more positively toward Lucifer after Luci would drop the act somewhat. That they could bond over feeling both at their lowest of lows, while also being to admit that things seem to be getting better!

This would be about the point that I imagine Lucifer developing more romantic feelings! Husk would be a bit less prickly, and Luci would just absolutely eat up any and all positive interactions they'd have. I like to picture a lot of little shows of care at the this point, like Husk memorizing what Lucifer likes and even making up 'fun' drinks just to try and cheer the guy up. And Lucifer would fun a fun game in trying to get the grumpy cat to smile, and just, lighting up himself any time he was successful.

And that culminating into the two of them making each other laugh, with Alastor being an easy butt of the jokes, and a good way for Husk, himself, to finally get a chance to vent. I think Lucifer would be one of the only 'safe' options for Husk to do that with, in just so far as Al can't really threaten Lucifer, and Lucifer already sees Al as a bit of a manipulative bastard.

Falling for each other; At this point, Lucifer would start being a bit more caring toward Husk, though with that wonderful, oblivious flair of his. I don't think Lucifer himself would realize he'd have a crush up until he'd start feeling protective or jealous over Husk, and it would really throw him for a loop at first.

Because fake dating is one of my all-time favorite tropes, I have always had a idea for a fanfic (or comic) that I haven't gotten around to yet, based around Lilith coming back, and Lucifer panickily asking Husk to pretend to be his boyfriend, so he can appear well adjusted/completely over her. Of course the whole thing would backfire, as Lilith would see through it (as Lucifer wouldn't be as good of an actor as he'd think), and that Husk would end up kind of feeling hurt by the whole thing.

Husk, who'd go along with the plot with an eyeroll, would find himself seizing up through the whole fake date/encounter. Would find weird, sudden emotions bubbling up and absolutely hating it.

I don't think that man would think about the class difference between him and Lucifer up until someone would say something about it, maybe Lucifer himself trying to rationalize the (at this time still fake) relationship to Lilith. Now, Husk feels uneasy about the whole thing and ends up drinking heavily the whole night so he doesn't have to think about feelings. (Blitz and Stolas who? Ahaha. fuck.) Meanwhile, while the date would be fake, I think Lucifer would really rather like having Husk on his arm and feeling like he'd have a love-life again, while also not really getting why Husk's mood would be getting worse throughout the night. I think they'd still end up on good terms, but both of them would have their feelings in a jumble, and Husk would not like it. (he thinks he's lost the ability to love, after all)

I think somewhere at this point, as they are starting to develop feelings for one another, is when Lucifer finally starts really realizing how tied to Alastor Husk is, and he starts to make it everyone's problem. I do think Al and Lucifer would stay snarky at each other this whole time, but that it'd only get worse, as Al would poke back since he'd find Lu's over reactions funny.

I also think Al would be maybe the last person to realize anything romantic would be brewing between Lucifer and Husk, and he'd just think it'd be a purely platonic thing.

Beyond just bitching about Alastor, Lucifer would really be ramping up his attention towards Husk too. Fully in that 'puppylove/crush' stage, and trying his darndest to make Husk feel good and special. Husk would be resistant to it all, thinking it would just be Lucifer rebounding hard, and not wanting to get wrapped up in Morningstar family drama when he could happily (miserably) keep his head down and just keep drinking the days away.

But then Lucifer would find out about Husk's love of stage magic, and his history as a performer, and it'd be all over for the catman. It would become Luci's new pet project to rope Husk into some joyful self-expression, and after a song and dance number's worth of convincing, Husk would start to come around. I have to post all these images now cause- I drew them with the intention of mimicking a musical number! Husk starting off as a bit resistant before jumping in whole heartedly, and Lucifer overexcitedly dragging him along throughout the music number, hyping him up and just all around being smitten.

And this is where Husk would start really falling. Getting swept up in indulging his favorite, least destructive hobby, and having someone who absolutely loves it to bond with. Especially when it would be over. When they would just settle down and talk, and laugh, and bond over what they love about performing. The spectacle, the audience, the love of the craft. Its about the comradery!!!

@belladonazeppole wrote a wonderful series of fanfics based off these pictures, as well as the songs from 'The Greatest Showman' that really fit the ship! I would be remiss to not mention them here, because Bella and their fics are just wonderful!

How they started dating;

Now. Don't think just cause they both caught feelings for each other, that they'd immediately admit to it. No. I think both of them would drag their heels. I don't think Husk would admit to them at all, without some outside force effecting it. I think he'd stubbornly try to ignore the crush or drink it away, rather than let his heart become vulnerable to anymore damage.

Meanwhile, Lucifer would be struggling between his feelings for Husk and Lilith. (In the actual canon, I do think they might try to rekindle things, depending on what kind of person Lilith turns out to be, but I digress.) Part of him would be so swept up in a giddy kind of excitement, while the other would be set firmly in the camp of 'this is a bad idea, this won't work out, just look at what happened to your last relationship'. It wouldn't stop him from being outwardly more and more affectionate, but it would be weighing on him.

I do think Lucifer would end up being the one who would be thinking; "What am I doing. He'd never like me back." While Husk would be just sitting there (echoing what was said in the ask- sorry I went all wild and wrote this much about the ship dear god)- "I'm just some fucking furry alcoholic, what the fuck would the king of hell see in me??? Am I delusional? What the fuck is going on??" And I feel like this stage would go on for MONTHS and drive everyone else nuts. It would be clear to everyone (except Alastor, who again, would be just this meme

Though that wouldn't stop him from getting a little pissy about it) And then it would all come to a head during something benign, like a board game night. There would be flirting, there would be jealousy, there would be arguing, and then finally, loudly and with a lot of feeling, Lucifer would shout his way through asking Husk out on a date. A real Date. A capital 'D' date out on the town, dressed to the nines and a real good time. The board would be knocked over in the fray, game pieces raining down upon them while Husk would just stare blank faced, trying to process what just happened. An awkward half-minute would pass before he'd finally, trying to play it cool, shrug out a 'sure'.

How much it'd piss Alastor off;

In the aftermath, a radio static would just lowly grate everyone's ears as Alastor would be slowly coming to terms on how just annoying it would be to have his friend (/Unhealthy co-dependent pet friend possession??) romantically involved (ew) with the King of Hell (double ew)??? Then, either it would be something light hearted like 'he keeps trying to break them up but failing cause he hates interacting with romance' or a darker route where 'he keeps trying to manipulate them into breaking up by preying on all their worst insecurities in the relationship'.

And that, my friend, is all I have in mind so far for this delusional crackship au! There is more I could flesh out, of course, like Angel's role as a friend or potential third in the relationship, or what I imagine as Husk becoming like a stepdad to Charlie, but I've typed enough for the whole month. Hope any of that was coherent! I did not bother to edit or proof read it. Just pure stream of consciousness.

[elliereject]

ifhy .1

* in which ellie’s obsession relationship with you begins to sour as your romance with your new boyfriend seems to flourish. it seems she’ll stop at nothing to ensure your happiness, (which you’ll find with her, obviously) even if it means hurting you in the process.

* lowkey obsessive ellie, (I LIKE EM’ A LITTLE CRAZY!), angst + comfort (next chapter(s), infidelity, unrequited feelings yet also mutual pining (just read it like, idk idk I forgot how to do these),lmk if I missed anything!

* im back, ok not really this has been rotting in my drafts forever and I was reading it back and I was like damn I lowk cooked with this. It’s unfinished as of RN but this is only 1/3 of the fic im just splitting it up so u don’t have to wait months,,for it..like my other fics..DONT ASK ME ABT THOSE, cuz I don’t got an answer. IN THE MEAN TIME ENJOY THIS! <3

* mdni (but like if u do wtvr, nothing crazy happens in this chapter)

wc ~ 1.6k

pt. 2 here

Ellie Williams fucking hated you.

Surprisingly, she didn’t at first. In fact, she was in love with you, bordering infatuation.

She had seen you for the first time at the local bookstore before the semester started, you were flipping through a book about time and relativity with a concentrated look on your face. She smiled to herself when she saw you push up onto your toes to reach for another book but to no avail. She took this as an opportunity to walk up to you and reach over your head to grab it, making sure to flex her lean, tattooed arm before placing it in your hand.

Her jade eyes locked on yours and your face heated immediately, you mumbled a “Thank you.” Before scurrying past her to the checkout.

Imagine her surprise when on the first day of classes, she walks into her astrophysics course and sees you, doodling in your notebook with that same concentrated look on your face.

Of course, she sits next to you, flashing that charming smile that has sweat gathering at your hands. She tells you her name then asks for yours and learns about your major, favourite course, and how you’re staying in a little apartment just outside the campus before more students and your professor filed in. You didn’t know why but you just felt so comfortable telling her things, She laughed at your corny jokes and made even cornier ones, and she admired the doodles that covered your notebook and the little duck pen you used.

You didn’t want to speak too soon, but it was safe to say you were harbouring a tiny bit of a crush on her.

Ellie on the other hand, was completely ready to admit it. She felt her love for you grow each second she was around you. Your smile quite literally felt like the sun shining upon her, your laugh made her want to drop her studies of space to pick up stand-up comedy just so she could make it her job to make you laugh. In her eyes, everything you did was perfect. Her thoughts were completely consumed by you, you, you.

And for a few months, things were amazing! You had been introduced to Dina and Jesse and even spent Halloween hanging out with the trio watching horror movies and eating each other's weight in candy. When the holidays rolled around you and Ellie, along with the others, cozied up under some blankets and made fun of cheesy Hallmark movies while she tried her hardest not to interlock her hands with yours even after your pinky brushed against hers for the sixth time.

During finals, Ellie and you organized designated study days that usually ended in giggling at stupid memes on each other's phones or late-night food runs. Of course, there were lingering touches and flirtatious glances here and there but you were too shy to act on it and Ellie would rather die than make you uncomfortable so she kept you just at arm's length. Besides, she knew you were too timid to approach anyone else, so in a way she had you all to herself.

Then, you met him. Some motherfucker whose name she didn’t care to remember. However, she did remember the innate feeling of anger that surged through her body when you gushed to her about him and how he was a history major and the way his glasses framed his face perfectly and whatever the fuck else you found interesting about him.

She nodded and laughed and smiled along with you when you would drone on about him but would excuse herself to the bathroom to tend to the crescent-shaped wounds in her palms from digging her fingers into them so hard.

She tried her best to not show these negative emotions to you because she knew how much you didn’t like when she got mad but fuck was it hard. Especially that one night when you were out with him and you hadn’t replied to her texts in over 5 hours. Man did her drywall take some damage that night.

And when you finally did reply you had completely disregarded her message and went on to boast about the time you had and how gentlemanly he was. All she could do was reply with a dry “sounds like fun🙂” before she went back to throwing a tantrum around her room and tormenting that poor wall…she’d have to remember to buy some spackle before the end of the semester.

Then, there was the time she trekked over to your apartment with some pizza for a surprise movie night and saw the bouquet placed in front of your door. She set the box down to pick up the flowers and read who it was from, her body reacted before she could rethink. She tore the flowers from the beautifully wrapped packaging and stomped on them over and over and over until all that was left were broken stems and tattered petals.

Thankfully, you got home just a few minutes later and missed her outburst. You gasped when you saw the smashed flowers and asked her what had happened, she shrugged and lied easily, claiming it was like this when she got there. She let out a breath when you shook your head and sighed, saying it was probably your next-door neighbor who had always been a bit of a grouch.

She had genuinely thought she was doing a pretty good job of hiding her true feelings for both you and him but it was when you gleefully announced that he was officially your boyfriend she knew she was done for. You squealed and pulled her in for a hug but it felt like her heart had shriveled up into a clump of black coal and woosh like magic, her love for you had turned into something twisted, something possessive.

It was when you invited her over to your apartment to eat dinner with him that she had started considering the idea that you knew she had a crush on you and you were just fucking with her emotions for fun.

How could you start dating, let alone seeing some random ass motherfucker when she was right here! She knew she could treat you better than he could even dream of, she knew everything about you and she’d make it known to you how perfect she was for you, one way or another.

That night at dinner she sat uncomfortably as you fluttered around your tiny kitchen, adding last-minute touches to the spaghetti you made and despite the grumble in her tummy it felt like she had no appetite when she watched the hungry way he looked at you, as if you were a juicy steak and he was a starved wolf.

Once you were finished plating the food and placing it on the table you sat down eagerly and tried your best to mediate the obvious tension.

“Soo uh, Ellie, you’ve been really into watercolour recently right?” You beamed.

“Uh-huh.” She said dryly, twirling her spaghetti around her fork.

“Oh that’s cool, you know watercolour as an art form has been around since Egyptian times! It’s funny to think that like—Cleopatra was painting with water and grapes or something!” He spoke and you giggled like it was the funniest joke in the world. She shot you a look that said really? because she knows she could make a joke that was way funnier, and would expel your real laugh.

“That’s cool. You know how to shut the fuck up?” She mumbled into her bite of spaghetti.

“Sorry?” He asked and you gave her a sideways glance.

She smiled tightly and swallowed before answering, “Just said that’s cool!”

Dinner dragged on as he droned about the history of the Renaissance or fucking Christopher Columbus, she didn’t actually know, she tuned him out. After you cleared the plates, you ushered them into your cozy living room for a movie and when you excused yourself to the bathroom she plopped down on the couch next to him, subtly pulling out her switchblade.

“So, Kevin—“

“Actually my name—“

“I don’t give a fuck what your name is, matter fact I don’t give a fuck about you in general. What are your intentions with ★?”

The man tensed up as Ellie expertly spun the blade around in her fingers.

“Uh—I mean, she seems cool and dating her has been pr—“

“Cool?” Ellie scoffed, “She’s fucking perfect, and I hope you know whatever you have going on with her right now? It won’t last. Soon she’s gonna see you for the limp-ass motherfucker you are.”

He was taken aback, “What?—I’m sorry, did I do something to offend you?”

“Your whole existence offends me.” She rasped, inching her blade closer to his neck. “She’s not meant to be with you.”

He furrowed his brows, “You like her, don’t you?”

Ellie rolled her eyes, “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Before he could reply you were back from the bathroom and she slipped her blade back into her pocket and got up with a firm grip on his shoulder.

“What were you two talking about?” You asked as you grabbed a bag of chips from your small coffee table and tore into them.

“Oh you know, girl talk.” She smiled, digging her blunt nails into his shoulder. Translation: don’t say a fucking word.

You rolled your eyes playfully like you even had a clue of what was going on, “He’s not a girl, dumbass.”

She shrugged, stepping away from her previous seat to plop down on the other small sofa.

The rest of the night proceeded relatively smoothly, your boyfriend had been so shaken up by Ellie’s words that even with you sitting next to him he kept his distance with worried glances toward Ellie now and then. Ellie crunched on her popcorn happily and watched the movie with a satisfied smile and a chipper aura.

— ★

🤔 shall I put out the second part? only time (and interactivity! 💝 pls don’t let this flop) will tell!

[misshoneyimhome]

I’m so glad requests are open again❣️ has anybody requested the innocent reader riding William in the locker room and potentially almost getting caught again? Plus Auston was curious how much she learned from William.

Hey darling! Nope, no one's brought that up before, but now that you have, I absolutely had to dive into it 😉

I mean, who can resist a bit of 3488 magic? 🤍 I'm not exactly hinting at a 3488 scenario, but I'm definitely not against it 🙈

And the locker room… oh yes! 😍🔥 I know you wrote "almost" which apparently my mind completely ignored... 🙃

Warnings; 18+ smut (don't know why I keep putting these warnings 🙈); oral sex (f and m receiving); semi-public unprotected sex;

Word count; 4.8K

[Inexperienced!reader x Willy]

・✶ ｡ﾟ

All good boys go to heaven - But bad boys bring heaven to you pt VI I William Nylander 🖋️⚡️

Everything just felt perfect. Being at William's flat, gradually turning it into your own place, felt more than just right.

Even though you had had your doubts about whether you were ready for it, as you stood in the kitchen enjoying a nice cup of coffee on this particular Tuesday morning, you felt more certain than ever.

William Nylander, your boyfriend, and now the person you shared a home with, went out of his way to make you feel comfortable moving in with him.

Before he’d left for the road trip, he carved out some space for you in the walk-in closet, even though most of it was already taken up by his numerous pieces of clothing and baggy style. His many shoes also claimed a big chunk of the space, but you managed to neatly arrange them next to yours. It looked quite amusing with his chunky Jordans beside your elegant heels and much smaller trainers.

And as you admired how your personal items were placed side by side, you felt confident in your decision.

However, you had also decided to keep your studio just for a little longer, just as a safety net.

It was no secret that you'd been hurt before. Your high school sweetheart may not have been the most adventurous in bed, but he sure knew how to charm other girls. And one day, it had become too much for you.

He was always out with his friends, and girls seemed to swarm around them. To be fair, most of them were quite attractive, and your ex, in particular, always looked flawless. And, it was his charm that had initially captivated you. The same charm he then used on every girl whenever he was out. Though he never actually cheated by sleeping with anyone else, the way he would sit closely with girls, have them in his lap, and enchant them all the way, eventually led you to break it off.

The breakup wasn't exactly pleasant, but you had every right to end it. To put it mildly, your girlfriends were more than supportive of your decision. Only a few sided with him, thinking you were crazy for letting him go. However, in retrospect, it was probably for the best that you weren't friends with those few anymore.

So, as you enjoyed your coffee, you took in the scene before you. The cute little doodles comfortably nestled in their baskets after the morning walk, and the sight of William's flat now being your home too.

It was quiet, with only the distant sounds of traffic several floors down, as you slowly prepared for the day. And while going through it all, you couldn't help but smile as you thought about how quickly you'd established a routine here. During the past week, you had spent every day at the flat, which felt a bit strange given that William was on the road. However, you had also simply enjoyed the time to truly get comfortable on your own.

Yet, despite being busy with work and hanging out with the other wives and girlfriends of the team, you were more than happy that he was now back home. So, Monday you had taken a lazy day on the sofa, having taken the day off to spend time with William. Although your boss wasn't always a fan of it, given that you always put in extra effort whenever William was on the road, he accepted your request for some flexibility.

Today, however, was just another workday for both of you. You would be at the office, and William would have practice all day. And then you'd meet back home in the evening.

It felt so homely, and the more you thought about it, the wider your smile became.

Meanwhile, at the training rink, William was putting all his energy into improving his skills. The road trip hadn't been his best, and he was determined to redeem himself, showing just how much he was truly worth.

And Auston, of all people, couldn't help but comment on his teammate's behaviour a little. As the two of them were the last ones to leave the ice, Auston stood by William at the bench and flashed him a content grin.

"Hey man, no need to punish the pucks like that," he chuckled with a friendly glint in his eye, prompting William to look up at him.

"Guess I just feel a little, you know, from the trip..." William shrugged with a soft smile.

"Yeah, don't we all... but hey, at least you had y/n to come home to."

William chuckled at Auston's comment, knowing that the Scottsdale boy had always had a certain curiosity about your relationship, especially the intimate part.

"Didn't really do much when I got home, was too tired," William smiled. "But then we didn't leave the condo all day yesterday, maybe only to walk the dogs, but other than that, we were in bed all day."

He couldn't suppress his smirk as he recalled yesterday and everything you did and didn't do.

"Only the bed?" Auston mischievously asked, raising his brows flirtatiously.

"Well... And the shower... and the sofa - maybe even the kitchen a little bit."

The boys shared heartfelt chuckles as William spilled the beans about your intimate activities.

Normally, he wouldn't go around sharing details like this, but for some reason, all the teammates seemed rather interested in your sexual life.

Perhaps it was because you’d openly admitted your lack of experience months ago, and knowing William well, all the players had their ideas about why both of you were so happy.

Besides, William did occasionally share a little. He couldn't help but boast just a bit as he mentioned how good the two of you were in bed together. And being single as well and not unfamiliar with the ladies, Auston also often shared his own experiences. It did sound more like conquests than intimate talks, but that's just how guys shared.

Not that you minded that William talked about you like this. Mostly because you also knew that you weren't just a girl he'd picked up for a casual encounter. You were in a committed relationship, so when he shared your intimate experiences, you knew he wasn't referring to you as just a piece of meat.

Especially with Auston, you found it a little amusing. He'd always been the one to poke fun about your sex life, wanting to know if you really were as sweet and cute as you appeared. Perhaps in the beginning, when you first got to know everyone, you were, but not so much anymore.

Not only had you explored various positions with William, but you also had intimate moments during a work meeting, in his childhood home with family around, and even ventured into anal play. You mastered the art of giving him mind-blowing head just as he excelled in orally pleasing you. The universe of bondage, dominance, submission, and light spanking was not left uncharted.

But, despite the array of experiences, there was still a world of possibilities to explore.

And, of course, Auston couldn't resist making a cheeky comment as the boys finished up in the locker room after practice.

"Well, sounds like she's good for you," he chuckled a bit too mischievously for William's liking. However, he brushed it off as typical boyish banter. "You know, you can always give her a private tour of the arena, if you dare," and with a cheeky wink, Auston left William to himself.

Although it was likely intended as a tease, William had a feeling Auston meant it. It wasn't the first time such a dare had been thrown around; in fact, it was often a dare spoken in the locker room as it was a mix of their home territory and the thrill of being caught at any time. Echoing noises through the halls would give away their position and activities, yet the boys found it alluring to show their partners a good time in the arena where they spent most of their time. However, most women didn't like the idea, primarily due to the smell of hockey equipment and sweat - and then the public nature of it all.

Returning from today’s training, William greeted you in the kitchen. Despite having a tiring day, you decided to unwind with a bit of cooking for you and your boyfriend.

And it was more than worth it when William wrapped his arms around your body, hugging you tightly as he kissed the back of your head.

"Well, hello to you too," you chuckled lightly, leaning slightly into his embrace as you tried to cut the last tomatoes.

"Mm, hello, baby," he mumbled into your hair. "Smells good."

You couldn't help but giggle a little.

"My hair or the food?"

"Both, and you..." he added as he placed soft kisses on your neck, gently nipping at your skin.

"Willy," you giggled. "I'm trying to cook here."

It was hard for you to concentrate on the tomato sauce you were making for the pasta and meatballs - Italian-inspired, as it was William's favourite.

"So? I'm hungry for something else…"

And as if you weren't in the middle of preparing your dinner, William had another idea for starters. With a swift move, he pulled you away from the kitchen counter, spun you around, and hoisted you into his arms. His strength was obviously greater than yours, and you surrendered immediately.

Then placing you on the large dining table, William wasted no time in discarding your trousers and unbuttoning your shirt. You weren't at work anymore, so your outfit didn't really matter. With an open shirt, your lingerie completely exposed, William squatted before you and came face to face with your core. Though you hadn't had time to build any sort of arousal, William's dominant moves had you instantly turned on, and your anticipation grew, expecting to be touched.

And you didn't have to wait long. William pulled down your fine panties, threw them across the room, and then tossed your leg over his shoulder, diving in for his first meal of the night.

"Oh, fuck, Willy," you breathed out as his tongue and lips made contact with your sensitive flesh. Your hands supported you on the table as you leaned back, allowing yourself to sink into the pleasure.

"Mmm, baby, my favourite fucking meal," he hummed into your core, sending sweet vibrations through your body before continuing his work.

William always made you feel incredible. You could talk about how he pleased you endlessly with your girlfriends, making them jealous of the man in your life who loved to give and always prioritised your pleasure over his own.

Not that William thought much about it. He just loved pleasing you like this. Perhaps it was the sweet sounds he created from you; he wasn't sure. He just loved the taste of your cunt and the way you squirmed under his touch.

The more you moaned and cried his name, the more turned on he got. He could feel his member growing firmer and twitching in his sweats as your breathing became uneven and your legs pressed onto him, signalling your impending orgasm.

You almost couldn't hold yourself together as William paid his undivided attention to your heat. And soon, you heard yourself whimper as you announced your orgasm about to peak.

So close to the edge, and knowing just how to push you over, William added his two long fingers, and only a few pumps were required for you to let out a deep moan and let yourself feel the orgasm course through your body.

William licked and sucked all the juices you offered him, flicking your clit a few times before he rose and pulled you in for a deep kiss.

"You always serve the best starters," he smirked against your lips, and you couldn't help but let out a chuckle.

"And what about my first course?" you asked with a sweet, almost innocent smile.

"It's all ready for you," William chuckled, before you hopped off the table and kneeled before him, pulling down his sweats and boxers, then taking his hard member into your mouth.

"Oh, yes, baby, that's it," William moaned loudly as he felt your warm mouth around him, skilfully coating him with your saliva and moving your head in steady motions.

And you did not hold back. As if William had turned on every button you had to offer, you felt hungry and eager to satisfy him. You let him in and out of your mouth as if you'd been starved for days, and his cock was the only meal you'd been offered. You effortlessly took him all the way down your throat, gagging just enough to make sounds before retreating and regaining your breaths.

"Shit, baby, do that again..."

And so, you did. Forcing yourself to relax the back of your throat, you let his length all the way in, causing your gag reflex to act before you had to pull back.

William saw stars as you did your little trick, something you admittedly didn't know you could do before now. But as he seemed to enjoy it so much, rolling his eyes back in his head, you naturally had to do it again.

"Hnfg... oh fu- I'm gonna come if you keep... mmm doing that."

His thigh muscles clenched under your touch, and you couldn't help but feel proud of yourself as you bopped your head a few more times, sucking him to your best abilities, causing him to let out an uncontrolled grunt and release his cum into your mouth.

Deep sounds escaped from the man above you as you made sure to clean and swallow every bit of his liquids, tasting the saltiness.

"Mmm, baby, you're getting way too good at this," William chuckled as he pulled up his pants, slowly regaining his breath as he came down from his high.

You flashed him a content smirk. "I didn't know I could get TOO good at it... but if that's the case, then I can just... not do it," you offered him a cheeky wink.

"Oh no, no! That's not what I meant," William quickly tried to defend as he watched you walk to the bedroom, where you changed into one of his large t-shirts and a pair of shorts to relax in. "I'm just saying that-"

"I'm giving you such good head that you'll never be able to leave me," you jokingly chuckled, returning your focus to the pot with boiling tomato sauce.

"Well, not that I'd ever leave you," William grinned, leaning against the kitchen counter. "But gotta admit that you're most definitely the best I've ever had."

And that sparked something within you. You? The best at this?

Oh, this definitely made your confidence peak.

Turning around, you flashed him a great smile. "Well, I guess just like you athletes need to stay on top of your skills by keeping on training and working hard, so do I."

"Oh yeah, you definitely need to keep up your talents," William eagerly agreed, nodding along with a teasing grin.

Pulling you in for a sweet kiss amidst the delicious smells of your cooking, you both couldn't suppress your joy. What could be better than this? A round of oral pleasure for starters, ensuring both reached an amazing climax, followed by the main course of a proper Italian-inspired dinner. And for dessert? That would have to wait until tomorrow since both of you were defeated by exhaustion and too much pasta.

**

Unfortunately, the following evening didn't start out as exciting.

Though your day at work had been just fine, having finished everything so you'd be able to leave in time for the game, it didn't go as smoothly for the Leafs.

The match against the Jets proved to be a long one. With no goals through three periods, it extended into thrilling overtime, where Auston finally settled the score with a goal after four minutes and thirteen seconds.

On a brighter note, Sammy had an amazing night. With a standing ovation for his 32 saves and no goals in the net, it was indeed a well-deserved night for him.

William, on the other hand, didn't manage to score a goal or make an assist; instead, he spent two minutes in the penalty box.

Yet, still, cheers filled the halls of the Scotiabank Arena as the players exited the locker room with smiles adorning their faces. Naturally, everyone wanted to secure a win in regular time; however, with the ups and downs the team had been facing lately, this was enough for tonight.

And as the clock ticked away and the hallway slowly emptied out, you found yourself strolling back and forth as you waited for your boyfriend to finish up. It wasn't uncommon for him to be one of the last ones, however, tonight he seemed to be taking a little longer.

So as the final players bid their farewells, you decided to walk into the otherwise forbidden area, as some of the partners would call it. And sitting on the bench in his little stall, William was still in some of his gear.

"You haven't even showered yet?" you chuckled, leaning in the doorway, and looking at your man.

William smiled with his overly smug face as he saw you standing there in your blue jersey, proudly sporting his number and name. Slowly making your way towards him, you cocked an eyebrow on the way.

"Yeah, sorry baby, I just skated a few rounds and shot some pucks... sorry I kept you waiting," he grinned up at you as you came to stand before him, your fingers finding his hair as you gazed down at him, while his hands found the back of your bare legs. His hands felt rough against them, as you'd decided to wear one of your skirts for work today and a pair of boots. However, while waiting, you played a game of mini hockey with Ashton and accidentally ripped your pantyhose.

"Hmm, guess you'll just have to make up for it," you returned his smirk, tracing your fingers through his sweaty hair. "In fact, coming to think of it... maybe we should introduce some punishment at home; like for every time you're late, or maybe when you get a penalty during a game." You teased with a confident smile.

"But then I wouldn't do anything else but getting punished," William chuckled.

"Oh, I did not think of that," you spoke sarcastically with a laugh, and before you knew it, William playfully pulled you into his lap and started tickling you, knowing it was the ultimate form of torture in your book. "Stop! Willy, stop," you almost shouted, and finally, he did, letting you breathe as you straddled him, your legs on either side of him, feeling your intimacy getting a little closer to his groin, which was unfortunately covered by his cup and boxers.

"Hmm, maybe I can already start making up for it now," he mischievously chuckled before leaning in for a deep kiss, letting his mouth gently explore yours as his hand found the back of your head, intertwining his fingers in your hair.

But you had to pull back.

"What... here? Willy, we can't," you expressed firmly, yet you couldn't help but feel your cunt tingle a little at the mere thought.

"Nobody's gonna know," he chuckled darkly, trying to reconnect your lips, but you avoided him.

"Seriously, anyone could walk in at any time..." you tried to argue, but it only seemed to fuel the fire in his eyes.

"Exactly," he merely spoke, and you knew there was no turning away from this. His determination to go all the way in the locker room, potentially on full display, was lit, and you couldn't help but feel turned on as well as he held a firm grip onto you.

Biting down on your lower lip, you met his fiery eyes with a seductive expression. "Alright... but you'll have to get rid of that first," you pointed out his cup, darting your eyes downwards.

And you didn't have to say that twice before he wiggled underneath you, not so elegantly removing the cup from his groin and tossing it behind him.

It was kind of hot, you had to admit that. The way he eagerly wanted you right there, right now, was making you crave him even more.

"Kiss me," he commanded, and naturally, you obeyed. Forcefully, you clashed your lips on each other, swiftly letting your tongues intertwine and mix saliva. His hand held a tight grip on your hair, as well as yours in his. Tugging and pulling his locks, air was stolen from your lungs, and you sensually grinded your intimacy into his slowly growing member.

It wasn't romantic nor gentle. It was hungry, passionate, and lustful. His hands found their way to your buttocks, where they held on and guided your motions, as William increasingly grew more eager to feel himself inside of you.

And as you felt his length hardening beneath you, you moved your hands down his torso, feeling his chest under your palms. You found the hem of his boxers and snuck your hand underneath the fabric.

William let out a moan as you took hold of his length, letting it grow firmer and firmer in your hand as you gently stroked his skin up and down. "Yes, shit baby," he breathed into the kiss, biting on your lower lip as you moved a little faster and held tightly onto his hard shaft.

You felt your own arousal intensify as his moans grew a little louder, his breaths uneven, and his grip on your buttocks tighter.

And just as you thought you had him under your control, William moved a hand between your legs. Gently sliding your lacy knickers aside, he let his finger explore your warmth. Rubbing your sensitive skin, the little bud of nerves, and then seeking out your entrance.

“Willy,” you moaned as you moved your mouth to his neck, tracing kisses up and down his jawline as you whispered to him. “More… I want more.” It almost sounded like a plea, but William didn’t care. He was so turned on that he simply granted your wishes, first inserting two fingers straight into your core. “Fuck, yes.” You moaned into his neck, trying not to sound too loud, while focusing on working his length.

It wasn’t easy to concentrate, as pleasure took over your mind, and both of you kept moaning under your breaths as you pleased each other.

Pumping his fingers in and out of you, William made sure you’d be able to take his cock, working your warmth to make you properly wet for him. 

Your mouth returned to his, and you could feel the intensity build up within.

It was messy, with half of William’s gear still on, and your skirt folded up only enough to provide access to your warmth. And as you rode his fingers while giving him a hand job, you were completely forgetting about your surroundings.

“Baby, I want to be in you,” William huskily spoke, and you were more than willing to feel him too. Both withdrawing your hands, you then scooted a little, lifted yourself on your knees so you could line the tip of his cock with your entrance.

With William’s hands on your hips, you let yourself sink down, allowing his length to fill you up.

Moans harmonised as your walls hugged him entirely. And slowly, you began rocking your hips, William guiding your motions as his cock easily moved in and out of your warmth.

Your hands held a tight grip onto his shoulders to stabilise you as you found a steady rhythm.

William always felt so good, and riding him like this gave you a sense of power. However, as always, he wouldn’t want you to think that you were in charge. He was, after all, the dominant one in your relationship, and truth be told, you preferred it that way too.

His hands encouraged you to increase your speed, and so you did. However, it wasn’t exactly easy when William then moved his hand again, his thumb settling on your clit, and you kept moving your hips.

You felt the intensity of pleasure course through your body as he stimulated your inside and circled your clit, and you knew you could come anytime soon.

“That’s it, baby, keep going,” William spoke roughly, also feeling his climax approaching as your tight walls clenched around his throbbing cock.

And as you became more eager to reach the much-needed peak, you sped up, almost overstimulating yourself as you were so close to release.

“Willy, I’m gonna…” you announced your pending orgasm under your breath.

“Yes, baby, come for me…” William returned the husky grunt, his thigh muscles tensing as he was about to let himself surrender to a release as well.

You could almost feel how his hips wanted to thrust up against you, letting him hit you deeper as you moved. And as the tip hit your sensitive spot over and over again, you finally managed to ride yourself to climax. Letting out a loud moan, deep breaths, and clenching your muscles, you cried out as you surrendered to the pleasure.

Yet, William’s hand still guided you to keep moving, as he too let out a dark moan and filled you up with his release.

“Fuck, baby,” he grunted as you slowed down your motions, your tense grip gently releasing, and regaining control of your breathing.

You almost collapsed onto his body, feeling yourself pulsating, your head resting in the crook of his neck as you both slowly came out of your high.

And both of you couldn’t help but let out chuckles resting in this position, sharing a tender kiss before locking eyes in an intense stare filled with passion and content. Your fingers gently stroked through William’s wonderful, thick, sticky hair, as his hands rested on your buttocks.

Both of you felt sweaty from the activity as smiles adorned your lips, and you shared this heartfelt moment.

However, just as you were about to untangle from the position, a voice suddenly caught you off guard and made you jump in surprise.

“Can’t believe you actually did it.”

Promptly, you turned around, facing a smug Auston resting in the doorway with his arms crossed.

“Aus… what are you…” you mumbled breathlessly, while William merely let out small chuckles.

“Oh, please don’t stop on my behalf,” he added, not even caring about how you showed your embarrassment with rosy blushed cheeks. “I can stand guard if you need a second round,” he flashed you a cheeky wink before exiting the room and letting the door shut close.

You were completely frozen, baffled as you felt William’s cock getting soft under you, and his release slightly dripping from your warmth.

“Oh god,” you cried out, covering your face with your palms as your cheeks felt warm and red. “I can’t believe he walked in on us!”

Swiftly, you moved from your position, correcting your skirt as you stood with a hand to your forehead, considering the situation. But again, William just laughed. Rising from his seat as well, he began taking off the rest of his equipment with an overly satisfied smile.

“Don’t worry, babe, it’s just Auston,” William tried to comfort you, but it had absolutely no influence on you.

“Well, exactly! It’s Auston, our friend, who’d always been commenting on my sexual experience… and now he saw us! He’s probably going to tell everyone how we shagged in the locker room!”

“Well, if he doesn’t, I will,” William chuckled again, pulling up his sweats as he’d decided that showering now would be pointless. “Come on! It was really sexy.”

“Seriously?” you cocked an eyebrow. “You guys think sex in the locker room is sexy?”

“Oh yeah, and believe me, a lot of the guys will be jealous when they hear about it.”

William came in closer to you as he pulled you in for another kiss.

“Hmm… I kind of like making the guys on the team jealous of us,” you grinned with a smirk, thinking about it all.

“Is that so? Well, you definitely made Tony jealous, that’s for sure.”

William’s words hung in the air for a short moment as you stood in his arms and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Good – I want him, and all the rest, to know just how good you can make me feel.”

Your voice sounded overly seductive as the deep whisper escaped your lips.

“Oh, baby, I’m gonna fucking shout it to the world!”

With content smiles on your faces, you sealed the intense night with a deep kiss.

[knightfcll]

nightcap

welt x reader, 1.6k

note: 🤪 im like not even caught up but i love this gilf tew much okay bye. My first reader fic on da blog, blease be nice 2 me <3

content notes: ❗️❗️🔞🔞🔞❗️❗️ explicit smut here, minors do NOT interact!!! Reader is gender neutral, no specific references to pronouns/body type/genitalia for reader, brief oral sex, penetrative sex, reader calls welt “mr yang” a lot 🥴

The Astral Express is quiet. You've finally returned after another long and difficult journey on another strange, new planet. Everyone else has retired to their own rooms for a well deserved rest, but you still wander the halls. Mr. Yang had stayed behind for this assignment and to say that you felt his absence was an understatement.

You had lasted all of five minutes in your own bed before throwing off the covers and deciding to seek him out. Without the exhaustion of adventure weighing him down, he's likely still awake, perhaps poring over a newspaper from your latest excursion. You make sure to bring one back for him if he's not there; he says it's so he can get a better idea of what effect the Stellaron's had on the planet, but you see how quickly he turns to the comic strips. You'll catch him doodling the characters later, sometimes changing their features, doing two and three different sketches that he thinks you won't see.

You're only half right. You find him almost exactly as you'd imagined when you slip into his room, except his brows are furrowed. He's tapping a pencil against the paper.

“Need any help, Mr. Yang?”

He looks at you briefly before returning to his crossword puzzle. "Evening. And yes."

You smile and saunter towards him, crawling onto the bed eagerly. He opens his arms without prompting, allowing you to settle into his lap with your back to his chest. He has most of it filled out already, with only the bottom left grid glaringly empty. Mr. Yang is one of the smartest people, which is why you like to tease him when he has to ask you for help with these things, but he's also the most mature, which accounts for the good natured chuckle you typically get in response.

"What's the clue?"

"Eight letters. 'Hot term for a recent admirer.'"

You make a show of scrunching up your face and delicately take the pencil from him. Your handwriting isn't quite as neat as his, but finds a certain charm in it.

Welt hums appreciatively. "'New flame.' I think you could be right."

You beam. "Bested by the newcomer, Mr. Yang. You'll have to ask me to explain strange things out in the wild next time we leave the Express."

He chuckles. He thinks it's cute when you try to tease him like this; you're all bark and no bite, really. You fold as soon as he gets his hands on you.

Like right now, as his fingers ghost over your thigh. You lean into it as much as you can, but he's so good at holding back. It's the sweet sting of having someone like Welt for a lover: a wealth of experience to keep you satisfied for hours on end, but the patience and precision needed to keep you just on edge until he thinks you're ready.

"Did you need something?" He says it so casually, like he doesn't know your skin is burning underneath him.

You turn your head to look at him. It's there again, that little bit of sharpness in his gaze that seems to go right through you. He's already thinking about all the ways he can unmake you.

"Just you," you say, waiting the precious few moments it takes for the spark to ignite.

Welt kisses you, softly at first. His hands roam over your thighs, just ghosting underneath your sleep shorts. You whine the third time he does it, unable to handle the loss of his touch. He pulls away.

“Patience.”

You pout. He notices everything. “I’m not impatient.”

He humphs in disbelief. “Don’t make a sound until I tell you to.”

Any other night, you might protest his rigidity. Be the brat he likes you to be, until you’re a sobbing mess in hands, begging him to just fuck you and stop teasing. Tonight, however, you’re inclined towards obedience. You hush up and wait the agonizing few moments that he waits, watching for any sign of defiance. Satisfied, he kisses you again, hungrier this time, sliding his tongue over yours. You hold back a moan when he digs his fingers into your thighs.

Welt pushes you down. He trails his lips down your body, over your chest, your sensitive nipples. He halts just below your belly button, kissing the skin lightly while he pulls down your shorts. You shiver once your exposed to the cool air.

Anticipation burns inside you when he pulls your leg up and over his shoulder. He slowly teases your entrance with his tongue, giving it slow, featherlight licks that he soon follows up with a finger.

“Mr. Yang,” you say, unable to resist calling out as he speeds up.

He doesn’t respond, choosing to punish you instead by letting up. He knows it’s agony, feeling his warm breath on you where you need him most.

It’s too much. You give up on obedience and let desperation take hold as you grab at welt’s shoulders and pull him in to kiss you. Your taste lingers on his tongue. “Mr. Yang, please…“

Welt palms at your ass. It’s a nice reminder that he’s far more affected by you than he typically comes off. Although his words are often measured and his tone even, the way he touches you is nothing short of ravenous.

“Tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

You’re on the brink of tears now. Your legs are locked around his hips, his fingers are rubbing and pinching your nipple. He knows, but he likes to make you say it. “Mr. Yang, please, please,”

He doesn’t budge. You reach for the drawstring on his pants yourself, but he grabs your hand and brings it to his mouth instead. “You can speak, can’t you? Use your words.”

You watch as he pulls your finger into his mouth, sucking on it lightly. He’ll keep going, ignoring your pleas while he toys with you long past the rising of the sun. He’s done it before.

You draw a shaky breath.

“Mr. Yang, I need you inside me.”

You wait for his response. He almost looks bored, that half-awake look he gets when he’s quizzing you on the values of each Aeon with hands roaming across your chest.

He kisses your palm. “Keep going.”

“Welt,” his given name falls from your lips, a strained whisper that sets Welt on edge, “please fuck me, I can’t take it anymore, please.“

Welt lets go of your hand. He disentangles himself from you fully, ignoring your desperate whines. You hear his pants fall to the floor and then he’s hovering over you again, sliding a hand under your shoulder.

“Turn around.”

You hear him, but you’re too distracted by the sight of his weeping cock to really pay attention. He sighs and gently lifts you, maneuvering you so you’re on your hands and knees with your back to him.

Tears of relief fall down your face when Welt drapes himself over your back. You feel him lining himself up with your entrance. You shudder when he finally enters you. His grip on your waist tightens. He lets his cock stay sheathed in you for an agonizing moment before he pulls out and starts to set a rhythm. The slow friction stirs something in Welt; he lets go of your waist and covers your hand with his own. He curses above you and moves in closer, his breath warm against the shell of your ear.

“I want to hear you. Please,” Welt gasps. It makes your heart skip.

You call out to him, moaning his name in a quiet voice that gets louder and louder as his thrusts quicken. Your words become more frantic, endless declarations of how much you need him interrupted by broken sobs of pleasure. Welt speaks your name, too, in between ragged breaths and the rapid stuttering of his hips, curses falling from his lips in a constant prayer.

“Mr. Yang,” you say, because you know how his breathing stops when you call him that, just like the first time it did when he had you on your knees in his bedroom, “Mr. Yang, I love you.”

Welt’s final thread of composure snaps. He hooks his arm around your throat and buried his face in your neck. His hips slap against you harder than before, but he still has the presence of mind to reach down and tease you one last time to put you over the edge. Waves of ecstasy roll through as you give one final, strangled shout.

Welt follows soon after, his thrusts becoming increasingly erratic until he buries himself to the hilt and groans deep into your skin. You both slump forward, breathing heavily. He kisses your neck sloppily before finally pulling out with a sigh. He pulls you once to get you to clean up, but you don’t budge, a telltale look of bliss on your face. He gives up and leaves you, returning with clean cloths to wipe you down. You watch him from the corner of your eye as he flips you onto your back and takes care of you.

“Thanks, Welt.”

He smiles softly, but doesn’t look at you, focused on his task. He climbs back into the bed once he’s done, flat on his back. You lean over and rest your head on his chest.

Exhaustion weighs you down suddenly. Even though you left the mission early to see Welt, the trip back to the express hadn’t been easy. It feels like you’ll drift off into sleep as soon as you close your eyes. So you do, but not before reaching up to kiss Welt just under his chin.

[sant-riley]

is it ok to request some headcannons with the team? if so, could you do a reader that’s covered in tattoos? like heavily tattooed. even their fingers. right? anyways, the reader is always covered during missions (like ghost level covered) and the team have subconsciously created this image of them under it all but haven’t really seen them until one day reader is wearing normal clothes and they’re like 🧍‍♀️ what? you have tattoos and like barely any skin 🧍‍♀️ IDK I JUST THOUGHT IT WOULD BE CUTE NVM THOUGH IF U DONT WANNA WRITE ❤️ NO ISSUE IF YOU DONT!

[Task force 141 and Laswell with reader who has a lot of tattoos)

A/N: I am not heavily tattooed yet but I did love this request sm soooo here this is :) Ty for the suggestion and I hope you enjoy!

They can’t really be blamed for not knowing about the tattoos, y’all are all covered typically in heavy gear and clothing and weapons most of the time. And they don’t question it when you’re covered up even more than usual bc yk, Ghost exists walking around in a Halloween costume 365 days a year. They’re used to it so they won’t prod.

Most task force members have tattoos of their own, it’s not a strange concept but they just assume you have none, they see you covered up and that’s that.

But then one day, let’s say there’s a mission and you guys get fucking d r e n c h e d in water, and you’re in a cold climate so leaving your clothes on is not an option. They need to dry by the fire and you cannot catch hypothermia.

Whatever reason you cover up, you know it’s only logical so you shyly take off your gear, quickly going by the fire while the guys quietly stare at your figure, staring at the ink decorating your body. Yes you’re beautiful and yes it’s their first time seeing so much of your skin but is that a fucking narwhal on your arm-

You have to snap at them to quit their staring bc you think they’re only staring at your chest or at your underwear but soap just blurts out “YOU ‘AVE TATTOOS?” And everyone else nods.

~

Individual reactions:

Ghost:

Ghost fucking loves it so much, he could stare at your tattoos for hours on end. He rolls up his sleeves to show you the ones decorating his forearms, letting you trace your fingers over the skull and withholding a shudder.

He immediately brings his hand up and traces yours back, asking questions about them and how long they took with you sitting in the chair, grunting in response as he zones out.

Asks why you cover them up as often as you do but when you send him that look he quickly says never mind.

Soap:

He immediately asks you about the meaning (if you have any for them). He admires them and thinks they make you look beautiful and badass.

He also will take a marker and draw ones on your empty bits of skin and color any grayscale tattoos you have.

If you were to ever get one of his doodles or drawings tattooed he would probably tear up on the spot. Also maybe kiss you stupid bc wow you have something from him on your skin forever and he loves you sm.

Would design y’all matching pieces, in your line of work tomorrow isn’t guaranteed so if you’re down, he’ll make the appointment for you both.

Price:

I personally don’t think Price has tattoos or would ever get any bc he doesn't care for them but he has an appreciation for yours.

Everyone would think he would be the type to talk down on them but all he said to you was “do you like ‘em? You do? Then why the fuck would I care?”

In between breaks, he’ll casually ask if you got any new ones and that he’d like to see them.

Gaz:

Gaz doesn’t have any but that’s just because he can’t fully decide on what he’d get, he’s young like you and cannot handle the commitment.

Therefore he lives by you and eagerly encourages all your ink and will always go with you to your tattoo session if he’s free.

He’s the best kind of person to have come along esp for long sessions bc he’ll go get you food, drinks, etc while he sits with you.

He always says he’s gonna get one when he goes with but always said never mind lmao.

Bonus <3 Laswell:

Now she's no stranger to ink, she's not covered up but she does have a matching tattoos with her wife and a few small patches of her wedding flowers on her.

She absolutely adores your ink and will not hesitate to defend you and it if someone were to disrespect you bc of what you've done with YOUR body.

She's a mom what can I say, she knows her authority and won't be shy to use it.

Taglist:

@devilsfoodcake22 @simon-rileys-princess

@stupid-ninja @milkmily

@lune-la-chanson @tamayakii

@teacupcollector @sweet-as-an-angel

@perilous-pasta @ihatethisappsomuchitpains

@marsbar127xx @baddump

@xncasi @king-cookiex

@palomaxaxaxa @amatchasky @wolfyland07 @diejager

@hailstrum18 @pretty-little-bunny382728 @mzfandom @solarslushee @areislol

@cluelessyasmin @sesshomaruwaifu @chaos-unchecked @kalamataolivesssss @arunasmisfortune @tbrfic

[sysig]

2023 Art Purge

Fanart edition! Second verse, same as the first, onto the walls of text!

Started the year with a huggy Squirtle! How can you get better than that <3

A solemnly dancing Spamton haha - this one still makes me laugh, what could possible have him so jovially serious

Only one leftover Sarah doodle from this year, inspired by a song that reminded me so much of her and Jocasta - Right Here Waiting is such a beautiful pining song! And since they're separated for such a while, not to mention the angst

Comfort Birdos <3 She's so pretty, I’m love her ♥

I just had to pick some of the most feral-designed Pokemon as my favourite, someday I'll know how to draw Vulpix and Ninetales! Cutest lads, someday someday

It’s actually pretty funny - the first page of this notebook ended up having some Handplates doodles, apropos of nothing, just wanted to draw them out of the blue, and then ended up being on the last pages as I finished it off! Goes to show how long they've been on my mind this year I guess haha

I ended up doing some Eris studies from my favourite scenes from Sinbad, her hair is literally the coolest - so pretty, the movement is incredible! Her proportions are all over the place depending on her size and shape, she's so cool and chaotic

Also had a couple tiny leftover Souichi studies! Cutest lad <3

And his eyes specifically - I'm pretty sure the two small ones around the big one were studied from the same face haha, that's not how his face is shaped!

Scottyiscringe's absolutely incredible After Dark meme was so inspirational to me earlier this year - I'm pretty sure the Yanderapy boys were like 85% inspired by The Vibes, such a beautifully dark and uncomfortable video gosh <3 Greasy main was a real treat to study from as well

The Stanley Parable bunnies! Just a silly idea of what Stanley - specifically Sinister, you can see his burned paw! And arrow-marked ears hehe - and the Narrator would look like as rabbits haha

Smol and I did a few teeny-tiny art trades this year, and for her first two she asked for her Bleach faves, Szayelaporro Grant and Quilge Opie. All I really know about them is they're both bad news bears, which is cool by me 👍

Weegie! I doodled some he and Bowser concepts fairly early on but none made it to final :P He's still a cute lad tho!

The original scratch-sketch for @farouchestray's birthday Raichu and birb! Can you tell I'm not that practiced with drawing birds or Raichu lol

Another leftover Sinister, silly goofy handsome lad

The beginnings of the WOY spam! What would eventually become Sleepy Sunshine Wander, it was definitely an interesting experiment to hold back my sketches until after the digital version was done! :0 It's a habit I've gotten out of

There was decidedly not enough Skeleton Dance this year lol, allow me to at least partially make up for it

Another idea I intended to finish digitally first but wasn't able to swing it! The double edged blade of sitting on doodles unfortunately, I'm not sure if I ever will :( But at least it's here now - a Fist Fighter signing his love to Peepers and Peepers not quite catching his meaning haha ♪

This one made it to digital! And was very silly-fun the whole way haha

Another I wanted to digitize! Heck!! I started thinking about the Animal Crossing/Mii hand style in conjunction with Fist Fighters and

He'll be fine. Probably ouo;

The Little Guys original sketch :D They're so tiny!

A mirror close-up of Peepers in a binder, frustrating to be Not Quite There yet

I read a fic at one point with Peepers described in a very silly-sounding outfit and decided to give an attempt at it haha. He has worn drag in the show, I forgot about how his helmet stuck out until rewatching tho haha

Those red-painted lips, goofy

A continuation of Peepers being left behind with the main duo! Those unpredictable two, and with how much he's put them through, what would they do to him...?

Obviously they'd be nice, trying to pull another Westley with him, but this is Peepers we're talking about! As soon as he knows he's not in danger, acting in animosity is right back on the table haha

Poor Wander just wants to be friends! I don't think he'd actually be all that surprised, just sad that even with how long they've known each other that they still can't break through to him haha

A follow-up to Wander catching Peepers and Sylvia sleeping snuggled up together haha, Peepers does not appreciate being called cute (even if he is)

A WOY-inspired chess set! :D With the villains as the Black Team and heroes as the White Team! Why is Peepers the Queen to Hater's King and not Dominator? It is obvious :) I'm still not sure what to do for the White Team's pawns though, they don't exactly have just a single type of little guy haha

Mad Wander! Look out!

A silly idea I had of Wander trying to corral these rambunctious villains he's thrown in with this time around lol - could also be read as him taking care of babified Hater and Dominator but I feel like he'd just coo over them the entire time haha

A gooey heart-eyed Peepers :) I guess he's stressed, it's a good look on him hehe

Sylvia headshot <3 She's so cool and pretty

More Skeleton Dance! Closer to on-model version of this high-stylized drawing of them :D Lookin' up at him with his big ol' eyes haha

Some kind of situation of Hater having found (more?) Watchdogs and wanting to bring them home by hiding them in his cloak lol idk, I just wanted to draw their big funny heads under his clothes. It's so inconspicuous, Peepers will never know!

Doug Plush!! With removable cloak! :D The cutest squishiest little demon <3 Very good to hug

Ozzy dress concept doodles as prelims to this post, it was really hard to decide what style would suit him! Went through quite a few and still not completely happy with what I ended up with which is a shame 'cause it was such a strong feeling in my head! I know he can rock a dress, just a matter of what style hmm

More of the same, wanted to at least get the composition of the Very Big Thought down before Oz's dress completely frustrated my attempts haha

Thrax was a really fun study, his eyes are beautiful! The way his lids are darkened as part of his design to make him look heavily-lidded under his brows and with dark eye bags is brilliant :)

Couple'a Helix doodles before I looked at references again lol, the impulse hits randomly - maybe Dex got a bad haircut haha

Chibis and angst! My favourite <3 Max is very selfish hehe ♥

You may find me occasionally traipsing through the Landel's Damned gallery lol, I feel very normal and rational and fine about it (lying)

A Rule 63'd Max :D Inspired by drawing him lying on Dex with his shirt open - Max boobs lol

The shot of ZEX looking at his hands </3 I actually drew this one on the context of Max and Dex running away together and Dex returning to their house and still finding ZEX in Max's place :'0 Looking at his new calluses!

Princess ZEX concept art! :D My first pass at his dress and jewelry, I was not satisfied, he is not pretty enough!

Some simple VUX mannequins for alternate outfits - you can see the pieces that eventually formed into the final version :D I am still rather a fan of the split Empress style in the middle there, cute <3

Cleaning up the tiara/jewelry designs, and the sleeve puffs hehe ♪ I think the second tiara looks goofy, like little double mouse ears haha

Closing in on the design! He really does deserve some goofy silly harmless fluffy fun :)

Couple comparisons on shushing VUX vs humans, inspired by Out, where DAX wraps his arm around ZEX's trunk :0 Seemed very drastic to me, but there are instances where humans completely cover other humans' mouths! From there, thinking about what a single finger shush might look like, maybe bumping an arm tip against their "mouth"? Stoppering haha

GLaDOS <3 <3 A spare doodle that I ran out of room for unfortunately but there she is! Love her <3 <3

And a random Core, the nonchalant eye always reminds me of DAX so sure, DAX Core, programmed to barely put up with your nonsense haha

Tried style-matching Florette and Luke from some screenshots, the Humongous Entertainment style is honestly really cute :D Very cartoony! Big thick lines and simple shapes, I'm a fan :D

More smol art trades lol, she got very into Punch Out late in the year :) She picked the characters, I picked the outfits lol, we've got Super Macho Man in a Hawaiian shirt (and bikini underneath) and Don Flamenco in a ?? mesh brazier-corset and biker gloves I guess?? I dunno lol, funsies

The Handplates return!! In the form of Fellplates - I was maybe a mite overdramatically disappointed in looking at Gaster's wing references and that they were only decorative lol, I just love animated wings! Expressive! Cute! Fluffy!! The little sketch on the left is him trying out attaching strings between his sleeves and the wings to have them "flap" with his arms haha

More of the wings motif in his shawl, this time from behind :) I think it'd just be shaped like wings and couldn't actually open :0

Make him cry >:3c

Eyes eyes eyes, every time. Sans' eyes are very pretty, I like how many shapes he can make - expressive! Makes up for how inexpressive the rest of his face can be haha

Anyone remember Gaster's keyhole chibi? I haven't made one in ages but hmmmm hmmmmmmmm

The dangers of off-ramping from Portal into Undertale lol

Did some little scratches of Endogeny 'cause the Amalgamates are lovely and I love them!! Would pet the goop dog 10/10

A scratchy digital warmup Handplates!Sans - I’ve become really enamoured with the look of the screws on their palms, macabre as they are, so making a piece that centered them was double fun :)

Still thinking about them, especially if they happen to fall apart :0 Their second and fifth metacarpals would always be connected somehow huh, not quite Gaster's fused hands but hmm

Bonus version of the Stream-doodle Sans without Papyrus’ text! He turned out really cute haha <3 Squishy lad ♪

[bby-deerling]

that's what friends are for (platonic sanji x zoro's partner!reader)

one time you comfort sanji, and one time he comforts you. currently obsessed with the idea of being zoro's partner who is also close friends with sanji despite their rivalry! wc 2.2k, light spoilers for wci and wano. platonic but sanji is sanji. cw for alcohol use (reader gets drunk)

In the dead of night, your hand was hastily scribbling the events of the past few days into your notebook, glancing up every few seconds to make sure there were no marine or enemy ships on the horizon.  Normally, you would be snuggled in between Zoro’s legs, laying back against his chest as he snored in your ear.  The notebook served as a place for either of you to doodle and write all the things that came to mind (or were difficult to say out loud) while the other was asleep—a secret, never-ending conversation. 

Since the crew was currently split up, you had been keeping meticulous notes on everything that had happened to make sure he didn’t miss one bit of what happened on your end.  You start to draw a quick sketch of Pudding to assure Zoro that she was indeed a real woman who was somehow attracted to Sanji and get so engrossed in the process that you miss the scent of tobacco filling your lungs and a familiar presence settling next to you.

“That really looks like her, darling.” he murmurs as he looks over your shoulder, causing you to jump and slam the book shut.  His cigarette smoke lingers on his breath, causing your nose to wrinkle in disgust.

“Can’t sleep, blondie?” you ask gently, setting aside the usual teasing bite in your tone that you reserved for him.  After all that the cook had been through in the past few days, concern for his well-being was at the forefront of your mind.

“I don’t think I’ll be sleeping well for quite a while after all of this, sunshine.” he replied, hand raking through his hair as he leaned further back into the couch of the Observation Tower.  Something in your stomach turned at seeing him in Zoro’s usual spot, making the ache in your heart due to his absence grow stronger.

“You missing the stupid mosshead?” he asked, with a bit less disdain than usual at the mention of his rival.

You nodded.  “A bit extra tonight.”

“We’ll be to Wano soon, dear.” he says.  Comfortable silence fills the air as you lean back and fix your eyes towards scanning the ocean.  Sanji pulls another cigarette out of his jacket pocket, but you stop him before he grabs his lighter.

“Not up here.  Zoro will think I started smoking again.” you scold.  Instead of putting the unlit cigarette away, he fishes out another one and places it between your fingers.

“Just one won’t hurt, sunshine.” he whispers.  “We used to smoke together all the time.”

“Zoro hates it.” you said, handing him the cigarette back with a sense of finality in your voice.  “I made a promise years ago that I wouldn’t smoke anymore, and I don’t plan on breaking it.”

Sanji smirks.  “I had a feeling you quit for him.  Was he really so threatened by our little smoke breaks?”

You shake your head with a smile.  “More like he didn’t want to taste your shitty cigarettes on my lips anymore.  Besides, it was starting to gnaw away at me too.”

“In what way, dear?” he asked.

“It might seem a bit silly, but the act of it started to make my stomach churn.  Inhaling your smoke and physically filling my chest with it felt sickening when my heart was already entangled somewhere else; even if I never had any improper intentions the action itself still felt wrong to me.  Too intimate.” you reply.  “Especially when you always insisted on lighting my cigarette with the tip of yours.”

Sanji chuckles.  “You could have just asked for my lighter, dear.”

“I can’t work one by myself, I didn’t want to look stupid.” you giggle.

You offer him one of the blankets you’ve wrapped around yourself, and he takes it gladly.

“If things were different, do you think you could’ve seen yourself loving Pudding?” you ask, breaking the silence.  He eyes you cautiously before answering.

“On the record?” he asks, motioning towards the notebook.

“Off the record.” you assure him.  “I’m just curious.”

“I don’t think it’s worth discussing because her feelings for me weren’t genuine.” he said softly.  “I overheard her before the wedding.”

“She’s been through a lot.  She probably was just lashing out as a defense mechanism, she’s still so young and dealing with so much.  I wouldn’t doubt that she’s looking out at the clear night sky, bawling her eyes out because you’re gone.” you say.  Sanji goes silent.

“Would it even matter if she loved you back?” you ask, voice nearly a whisper.

After a long pause, Sanji replies.  “It’s always been Nami.  It will only ever be Nami.”  He stiffens slightly and then relaxes as you squeeze his shoulder.

“She was so excited to see you, you know.” you say.  "She missed you dearly." Sanji nods, a small, pained smile cracking at his lips.

“I’m not good enough for her and she knows it.” he says, voice nearly cracking.

You sigh, rubbing circles into his collarbone with your thumb.  “Sanji, you’re compassionate, incredibly tough, inside and out, and devoted to the bone.  You’re deserving of all the love in the world.”

A devilish smirk erupts on Sanji’s face. “A confession?  Darling, you’re going to crush mosshead’s heart!” he teases.

You scoff.  “In your dreams, blondie.  I plan on going with him to the ends of the world, and then some.” you say, beaming proudly.

“I’m afraid you have no choice dear, he’ll get lost otherwise.” he replies, smiling with satisfaction as you giggle at his words.

“I’m so glad you’re home, Sanji.” you say with a yawn.

“Me too, sunshine.” he whispers back, both of you settling back into silence watching the crashing waves. 

Eventually, he falls asleep against your shoulder, and when the sun breaks over the horizon, you let him sleep in and get a head start on his plans for breakfast.

*******

Sanji is finishing up dishes when you come stumbling into the kitchen.  Luffy and Zoro were still asleep with no signs of waking up, and while everyone else was preemptively celebrating the victory in Wano, you were on edge and antsy for your captain and partner to rise from their slumbers.  Already tipsy, you staggered with unsure footing to the liquor cabinet, fiddling with the padlock keeping it shut.  Successfully gaining entry, you grab a small bottle of mango-infused sake before slumping down on the floor to drink it.

“I didn’t know you knew the code to the liquor cabinet, dear.” Sanji says.

“I’m not drunk enough to forget my own birthday.” you mumble, eyes fixed at the floor as you unscrew the cap on the bottle.  “We couldn’t make it his; 1111 is the first thing someone would guess.”

Sanji grabs a few of his freshly baked oatmeal cookies from the counter and sits down beside you.

“Don’t you want to save that for when he wakes up?” he asks you gently.

“Was planning to, but I finished that bottle of bourbon with Robin.” you reply.  “She told me to get a snack before heading to the beach but I need another drink before I go down there.”

“Made these special for you, sunshine.” Sanji says, handing you an oatmeal cookie, cringing as you take a swig from your sake bottle first and use the small treat as a chaser.

A wide smile spreads on your face.  “Just like my mom makes!  You’re too good to me blondie.”  Sanji smiles in response, and nudges the bottle away from your hands, replacing it with two more cookies.

“You need to eat, dear.” he says quietly, and thankfully, you listen to his suggestion. 

“What’s got you so rattled?” he asks gently.  You were typically a happy and cheerful drunk; even when you went past your limits and Zoro had to rub your back and keep you from falling overboard while you puked over the side of the Sunny, you had a big smile on your face.  However, despite your smile just a moment ago, the aura radiating from around you is nothing short of depressing, filling the cook with concern.

“They’re teasing again.” you whisper.  “I know they’re making fun of her and not me, but it’s humiliating.  Especially when she purposely waits until I’m not visiting to give them sponge baths.  She’s probably touching him right now.”

You cover your mouth and stare at the floor, embarrassed at the vomit of feelings that you had just divulged.  You wanted nothing more than to let it roll off your back like the nonsense that it was, especially because Zoro was fast asleep during most of Hiyori’s advances, but it was hard when Usopp currently thought it was the funniest thing in the world to throw himself over Franky and cry out something stupid like “Oh Zorojuro~!  I hadn’t realized I gave you another sword!” while motioning towards the cyborg’s crotch.

“Oh dearest…” Sanji sighs, throwing an arm around your shoulders and giving you a squeeze.  “Mosshead is a lot of things.  Moronic, single-minded, stubborn, impossible…but as much as I hate to say it, disloyal isn’t one of them.”

“I’ve taken it so well, haven’t I?” you whisper.  “I didn’t even say a word to him when I saw her wrapped around him, fast asleep.  If I did, he would’ve gotten upset that I wasn’t focused on the mission.”  You pause for a moment, a touch of anger bubbling to the surface.  “Do you think he would have given me the same grace?  If he were to walk in on me sleeping next to, let’s say Trafalgar Law, with his head buried into my chest, we wouldn’t have anything left between us but ashes and memories.”

“You’ve taken it so well, sweetheart.” Sanji reassures you; although he agrees with you, he bites back a variety of his own opinions regarding the stupid mosshead’s behavior as of late in order to spare your feelings.  “And I know he appreciates your understanding, even if he hasn’t had the chance to tell you yet.”

You’re quiet for a moment, still staring at the floor as Sanji rubs circles into your shoulder.

“I’ve barely seen him these past few weeks, Sanji.  What if he’s lost feelings for me?” you choke out.  Before Sanji can respond, you continue.  “She’s the most beautiful woman in Wano, Sanji.  Don’t even try to deny it, I saw the way she got under your skin too.  He has ties here in Wano through his bloodline, and she gave him a legendary sword; what do I have to offer besides my heart, my soul, and the skin on my bones?”

“Darling, he stayed true to you for two years, I hardly think that a few weeks would cause him to have such a change in heart—” he starts to say.

“Aw c’mon, blondie, what was he going to do?  Fuck Mihawk?” you snap, cutting him off and causing Sanji to laugh so hard he nearly snorts.

“Seriously Sanji,” you say, sitting up and looking at him for the first time in this conversation causing him to stifle his laughter, “let’s say that, hypothetically, if we were together, and Nami were to confess her complete and undying love for you, what would you do?”  The cook goes quiet for a moment, trying to figure out how to answer your nonsense question diplomatically, but runs out of time before you take his silence as an answer and continue.

“See?  How could you resist being given everything you’ve ever dreamed of?  Wouldn’t you be eager to let go of the past too?” you ask, voice trembling.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers, brushing your tangled hair out of your face, “Can’t you see that you’re all he’s ever wanted?”  His words prompt you to throw yourself into his arms and start sobbing—under normal circumstances, his nose would be gushing with blood, but right now his focus was on getting your breathing and emotions under control.

“I just want them both to wake up.” you say, voice cracking.  “I want to sneak away with him and crawl into his arms and cover him with kisses and tell him how much I missed him and melt away into his skin.”

“I know, sunshine,” he says with a sigh as he strokes your hair, “but doesn’t it give you immense comfort knowing that you’re front and center in all of his dreams?”

“He’s probably dreaming about killing Dracule Mihawk.” you mumble, looking up at him.

“And you and Chopper are cheering him on while he does it.” Sanji says with a smile, patting your head.  His heart sighs in relief when you grin back at him, and he sees that his words have seemingly finally gotten through to you.

“Thanks, Sanji.” you whisper, breathing finally steady. “Sorry for losing it.  It’s hard keeping it all inside sometimes.”

“There’s never any judgement here, dear.  I’m here whenever you need me.” he replies.  This time when you hug him, a spurt of blood flies out his nose. You grit your teeth and lightly smack him upside the head in return; it lacks its usual power due to still being so raw from sobbing your heart out.

“I’ll make you some tea to help you sober up faster, have a few more cookies, sunshine” he says as he extends his hand to help you stand and guides you towards the kitchen table, gratitude beaming from your eyes.  He knew that when you sobered up, you would feel indebted to him for comforting you, but he knew there would be a time in the future that he would need your support, and it would all even out eventually.

After all, isn’t that what friends are for?

[barb-being-mentally-ill]

Megop week started and we’re kicking off with angst :)

I’ll be brief with explanations, the prompt for today is: Loyalty/ Betrayal, I ran with betrayal. The idea was inspired by the concept that after receiving the matrix Orion isn’t quite in control anymore(does it make sense canonically? Not rly but it makes for a cool shot)

I wanted to portray sudden betrayal and at first thought of the council scene but I wanted to spice it up a bit and ended up with Orion stabbing Megatron, with ghostly hands representing the matrix and the past primes “forcing” his hand

Here’s the lineart, a ver without text and a shitty doodle my friend made while I was sketching it out