#for anyone coming back to the original post and is curious: this post is about hongjoong of ateez (kpop group)

[applejongho]

"I feel so normal about him" well I dont. move

[radiance1]

Tim traced Bruce's family tree, and that led him down a path where he finds out that apparently his ancestors, the fentonightingales, split off into the Wayne family and the Fenton family and decides to trace down the Fenton family history to see if Bruce had any unknown relatives.

He finds Jack Fenton, his wife, Madeline Fenton, their daughter, Jasmine Fenton, their son, Daniel Fenton, and their second daughter and youngest child, Danielle Fenton.

Then he digs a bit through their social media, finds out that reclusive billionaire and CEO of a morally questionable company, Vlad Masters, is the godfather of the three children. Unfortunately, for some reason it's been hard to find information about Vlad Masters that isn't involving his company or publicity stunts, anything past that and it's only bits and pieces of information.

The biggest piece in his past is that he was trapped in a hospital due to an unknown illness that left him bedridden, and then making an miraculous recovery one day, then going to found Vladco and become a business empire.

He thinks the only reason that tidbit of information was so easy to find was that it tied into his business as some type of origin story.

Tim does a bit more digging and, yet to inform anyone else of his discovery, finds a video titled:

"Pranking my godfather after he stopped trying to get with my mom and kill my dad!"

Which, was a concerning title really, then he found the godfather in question to be Vlad Masters, and the one who recorded said video was Daniel Fenton.

Curious.

He did some more digging.

He didn't really get very far, for some odd reason there isn't a lot of information to scrap together past the surface of Amity Park. Stuff like their museum, being a tourist attraction, it's history, normal stuff like that.

Nothing about the day to day lives of its citizens, nor any videos posted by said citizens or anything of the like.

He did come across some papers posted by the Fentons, however. Some research abouts ghosts, their behaviors and all that.

What he found wasn't pleasant, and he was thinking about telling Bruce before he came across another page.

The Fenton page.

It was, very, very clean of research papers of any kind having to deal with ghosts as a species, and while they are mentioned it's mostly in reference to take about one of their many weapons, or an installation to equip to your home as a safety precaution.

Then he went back to the page where their 'research' is placed, did some digging, and found it to be published by some kind of organization called the Guys In White, or GIW for short. Weird name, but he's seen weirder.

Although, this does cause some concern for him.

Tim, still not telling anyone of the information he's found besides Alfred (You can hide NOTHING from that man), decides to go over to Amity Park to check out the Fenton family firsthand, gather information about these ghosts to decide if magic is involved or not, and find out why the GIW are using the Fentons' name to publish their papers.

[majosullivan]

Nevermore Dashboard Simulator

🌷 many-coloured-grass Follow

Can we all agree to stop making jokes about each other’s deaths? Making light of someone’s death even as a joke is really gross

🪦 deadgirlwalking Follow

No I was murdered so I can reclaim it

85,958 notes

⏳ dream-within-a-dream Follow

Okay but can someone tell me how posts here are getting so many notes? There’s like around 100 people at the academy and I’m frequently seeing posts with well over 1,000 notes. Like, it would be one thing if these posts were years old but some of them are from 2 days ago. Did I just miss the memo and everyone here has at least 10+ accounts, like WHERE are you guys coming from?

👻 hourofsecrecy Follow

Can the spirits not show their appreciation for people’s commentery? Can the creatures of the night not find humour in wits and gists of others? What is the difference from the newly departed and the Unseen Ones?

⏳ dream-within-a-dream Follow

Absolutely horrific answer, thank you for your time

26,496 notes

🪱 conqueror-of-worms Follow

Tell me why it’s around eight in the morning and the first thing I see while heading to the dining hall is Lenore PINING Annabel Lee AGAINST A WALL

☠️ spookyxskeletons Follow

🪱 conqueror-of-worms Follow

Care to clarify who the hell you were referring to in this post?

☠️ spookyxskeletons Follow

Yes

3,270 notes

🎈 floatinghoax Follow

After everything the afterlife could have been, you’re telling me that I have to go to SCHOOL and have CLASSES that start at 9AM? Truly tempted to walk straight into the wasteland, there’s only so much a second chance at life is worth

#not to mention with have fucking ROOMMATES #this academy is MASSIVE #you’re telling me there isn’t enough room for single rooms in this place?

7,984 notes

🥀 wilted-rose Follow

I’m curious, who do you guys think you could take in their spectre forms?

🥀 wilted-rose Follow

IN A FIGHT

69,285 notes

🎶 decomposingmusic Follow

You’re not about to manifest your spectre, you’re just dehydrated

🩰 ghosting-giselle Follow

out of the way gay boy i’m boutta separate myself from my remaining moral ties and embrace the abilites of my spiritual form

🩰 ghosting-giselle Follow

nures rom

173,032 notes

🌙 voyage-to-the-moon Follow

do you think the Deans wake up every day, take one look at us before telling Ms. Poppet ‘PUT THOSE BEASTS IN SITUATIONS!’

2,396 notes

🌃 eveningstar Follow

Does anyone know if Duke and Pluto (the two boys friends with Lenore) are an item or not? Cause any time I’ve seen them interact, Duke has consistently referred to Pluto as Mon Minou (my kitten in french) and I’m not sure if the two of them are together or if they’re just…Like That

🌃 eveningstar Follow

UPDATE: SO IT TURNS OUT PLUTO DIDN’T KNOW WHAT MON MINOU MEANT AND FOUND OUT THROUGH MY POST. HIM AND DUKE HAVE BEEN BICKERING ABOUT IT ALL THE WAY BACK TO THE DORM ROOMS

🌃 eveningstar Follow

Despite what you would think would occur from this development, none of this has answered by original question

#I was just curious if these two were gay or just European #by all accounts they might be both

6,974 notes

🍋 gives-you-lemons Follow

I think I’m about half with through the manor right now? Honestly this lesson is going much better than I expected!

🍋 gives-you-lemons Follow

RATS RATS RATS RATS RATS RATS R&)26?83@/$

5,052 notes

☔️ dew-dropped-nights Follow

[about to be eaten by one of the monsters in the Teraphobia trial] okay but do you think I’m cute? Be honest

4,824 notes

🪐 eureka Follow

Do you think that Annabel Lee and Lenore have ever explored each others bodies

🌷 many-coloured-grass Follow

Can you fucking not do this? Not only are they real people, they’re our classmates and clearly can’t stand each other. Stuff like this is weird and gross

🔮 sorcery-sorcery-sorcery Follow

I bet they fucked nasty up at the widow’s watch

🥂 drinking-into-the-grave Follow

This is actually how Lenore won the Mystery Manor lesson

☠️ spookyxskeletons Follow

Sometimes that butch pussy gets you acting unwise

🏵️ pendulum-in-the-pit Follow

THAT

WHAT

🪦 deadgirlwalking Follow

What’s not clicking

29,496 notes

[innaillus]

Drawing Ryōmen Sukuna

Development notes

This post has been in the making since last year, before the manga has reached its current arc. My aim was to respond to comments that pointed out that my version of that time didn't look like the one in the anime. I calculate everything I do and the way I do it. My current goal is to share my thoughts on the development of my take on him - simply because I'm a nerd when it comes to anatomy and I love figuring things out. It involves a lot of thinking, questioning, analysis, dissecting information and building theories. So I totally understand if it's not anyone's cup of tea.

MANGA SPOILER WARNING

The very beginning

I used to have a serious case of lack of self-confidence. My earliest art of Sukuna dates back to 2021, but it always felt like my skills are not worthy of this particular character. I never shared my art. I was also struggling to find my artistic voice. I was obsessed with the idea of semi-realism, but even if I managed to pull it off after weeks of stylisation practices, I didn't like the results.

Due to personal reasons, I stopped trying to draw him for a long time.

The development of "my" version

It was an entirely conscious decision to draw him differently.

The top reasons for the change was that I didn't want to sexualise him in his host, Yuuji, who is a minor. Back then I thought he inflicted the deformation on himself (extra limbs, eyes, etc), for the sake of efficiency, and I was curious what he looked like before that - or what he would look like in a civilised environment.

During the process, I considered a number of factors:

the beauty standard of the other JJK men - I wanted him to fit the lineup - his original appearance made him stand out quite much

in a setting where he adheres to the rules of society, more or less, I believe his MBTI personality type (ENTJ) would dictate a lot of his choices when it comes to appearance, at least to a certain extent. I thought he would choose to have an appearance that fits the beauty standards of the era

I kept his tattoos because it's a very distinguishing feature of him, but I also exercise freedom in the way I draw them, to make them as stylish as possible

Reincarnation

I used to believe once he reincarnates, his proportions would be closer to that of a "normal" human, even if he has some extra limbs. However, his size and features are above and beyond of what we are used to, and even the story emphasises their malformed appearance. So a a whole new era of Sukuna started in my art. I chose my favourite manga panels of him and mix-and-matched the most attractive features into a figure that I consider on the fine edge of monstrosity and unconventional handsomeness.

Even when I draw him with a regular number of limbs, I keep his usual mass and proportions. I dubbed this form "true gains" form.

I also realised that some of the tattoos Yuuji's body displayed was a product of the partial reincarnation stage, like we see it on Tsumiki's forehead.

NOTE: Did anyone notice that Sukuna is getting progressively more and more human/handsome in the manga? When he took over Megumi's body, I also noticed that as the story progressed, he started to look older and more mature. I'm curious of it was a conscious decision.

Twin dilemma and speculations

According to the Japanese wikipedia page, the mythical figure Sukuna could have been a conjoined twin. Despite my extensive digging in the matter, I was shocked by the recent lore drop.

My question: what does Sukuna look like in a universe where he did not absorb his twin in the womb during development?

It hasn't been confirmed, but I find it very possible now that he was born with his extra limbs, eyes and mouth, as well as the deformed, wide features. (...as opposed to my first theory about him altering his own body for the sake of efficiency)

This, however, would mean that in a universe where both him and his brother are born healthily, he would look different. There is the obvious lack of extra arms, eyes and mouth - but I believe he would also be closer to the JJK beauty standard of men, as far as proportions go (eg. more narrow face, anime-esque nose, larger eyes).

At first I was hesitant to accept this idea, as I'm very attached to the 4-arm hulk / "true gains" form now, but then I realised: this would mean that "my"version of him actually has logically explainable place in at least an alternate universe.

Thank you if you got this far.

I may edit this post later. Let's see where the story takes us.

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer NSFW Profile

Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, non/dub-con, manipulation, I know I might break some hearts but I actually think Chrollo is very vanilla, loud sex, begging, h*nd holding, voyeurism, exhibitionism, unethical usage of a copying nen ability, masturbation, stalking, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy! 

HABITS:

Generally speaking, sex hasn’t been a huge part of Chrollo’s life. Of course, being a man with charisma and questionable goals, he’s had his fair share of partners to woo and use for information, sneakily extracting names and facts from them as he kisses and touches them, a husky, whispered question of and where might those gemstones be exactly against his temporary lover’s lips seeming strangely erotic, though the intent is anything but.

He’s never really viewed sex as something meaningful; rather, it’s simply a tool, a means to an end for whatever it is that he wants to steal next, and thus it’s never been much of a concern. Why should it be, when Chrollo finds connections and genuine human interaction something of a chore, unless it’s towards his own Troupe members?

Sex is a means to an end, and while there’s something strangely alluring about the idea of having sex for pleasure, he’s not one to simply go out and find a hookup to relieve himself. He likes to think he’s more refined than that – besides, while he isn’t especially wearing of intimacy or touching others, he doesn’t want to touch anyone he isn’t at least needing to, for some job or another. Casual sex just isn’t his thing.

Of course, then you come along, and just with everything else in his life, you’re to blame for his sudden change in opinion, his sudden changing belief that maybe, just maybe, sexual desire and intimacy has more of a purpose than he originally believed.

It’s not instantaneous, his desires to be touching you and making you moan so prettily and feel your skin against his. He doesn’t see you and immediately imagine bending you over and fucking you until you’re sweating and panting and spent. He doesn’t immediately imagine spreading your legs and getting you gripping at his hair, your pretty slick smeared all over his lips.

It’s not immediate, but rather a culmination of his obsession with you deepening over time. It takes him a long time to develop his feelings for you, and even longer to make sense of them – he’s not particularly hostile towards them, but it takes a while for his obsession to fully set in, for him to realize that he wants you in a romantic, genuine way. It will be a solid few weeks after his obsession form for him to get to the point where he’s fantasizing not only about the way you’d smile at him and softly sigh as he reads passages of his favorite gothic poems to you, but also about the way you’d quote certain stanzas as you kiss his neck, run your fingernails against his back, tug at his hair and keen his name.

It’s slow going, and to be honest Chrollo doesn’t even really notice that it’s happening until he’s suddenly so pent up that he just can’t take it, his hand itching to reach down and quell the dull throbbing coming from between his legs.

He’s never been one to masturbate much, the act seeming tiresome and without little reward, and as a result he’s more curious than anything that you’ve managed to inspire within him such primal urges, animalistic desires to see you stuffed full of his cock, cum leaking from your spent, sore pussy, your eyes dazed and hazy as he kisses you breathlessly.

He’s impressed, more than anything, but Chrollo isn’t too surprised once he thinks about it – you’re something of a breath of fresh air to him, someone real and interesting and oh so intriguing, so why wouldn’t he want to fuck you until you’re crying?

Why wouldn’t he want to map every inch of your skin out with his lips, feel your muscles clench and stiffen up under his fingertips?

He’s mildly surprised by your ability to essentially get him horny, and while it doesn’t happen too often (maybe two or three times per week), it’s still sizeable – and so is the amount of time that he begins spending in the company of a candle, a novel, and symphonic music in the background, blending in with the airy gasps and groans of the evening. 

When it comes to actually touching himself, Chrollo has a bit of a dirty secret; his nen ability (and its extensions, of course) comes in handy to the extreme in a lot of ways regarding you, but as soon as his more sexual desires towards you begin emerging, he’s suddenly so grateful for the sheer amount of nen abilities that he’s accumulated over the years.

That is, he’s particularly grateful for a certain one he picked up towards the beginning of the Phantom Troupe’s existence: an ability allowing partial recreation of an individual’s body parts, up to the whim of the wielder.

Guilt has never been something he’s given too much thought to, and so as he lights the few candles surrounding his place at the edge of the queen sized bed he's used the last few evenings, he merely closes his eyes and smiles, the aroma of a blissful, peaceful evening settling around him, the feeling of moonlight hitting his pale features and the crackling of the flames relaxing his body and preparing him for the next few events.

Chrollo is nothing if not a man of culture, and so as he carefully removes his jacket (folding it on top of the Victorian style chair in the corner of the room) along with his pants, he lets out a small sigh and grabs the book laying atop his nightstand, the golden cover with its black lettering making a small shiver run down his spine.

The book is, admittedly, a bit more graphic than his normal tastes, but there’s something about the way the narrator describes the female lead that makes his mind immediately shoot to you – something about the description of her hair, her body, her mannerisms, her everything, though Chrollo could say without a hint of hesitation that you were still better in every possible way. He’s read the novel dozens of times; it’s a classic, cliché love story of a dashing, mysterious man who swoons a sweet, traditional daughter of some nobleman, their romance dark and swift and taboo.

It reminds him a lot of his situation with you, really – he’s the handsome, dark man who comes and sweeps you off your feet, tempting you into leaving your good-girl, righteous persona and instead letting him taint you. Just the thought gets him throbbing, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows and wills himself to calm down, to not ruin the ambiance he’s diligently set up for the night.

He flips to the marked section towards the middle of the book, the chapter detailing the night of passion and romance that ensues between the two characters. He’s quick to begin pouring over the words, and though he’s read this multiple page passage easily hundreds of times, the image still comes together in his head as if it’s fresh – the woman pinned below the man, the collar of her silky, white nightdress pushed down to just above her breasts, collarbone exposed along with her neck, half lidded eyes staring up at the lead while she gulps and breaths a bit raggedly.

Her wrists are beside her head, her whole body open and exposed for his future pleasure, and immediately he’s imagining you in a frilly, white nightgown, the material short and sheer and making you look angelic, like something for him to ruin.

Chrollo licks his lips, eyes still rapidly scanning the page as a hand snakes down to the slowly stiffening length resting against his thigh, the tip turning a deep shade of red, the trimmed forest of black hair standing out against the pale skin surrounding. A brush of his fingertips against the sensitive base has him exhaling slowly, the fantasy of the heroine’s knee slightly rising to brush against the lead’s clothed cock making a blush rise to the back of his neck, images of the way you’d bite your lip and whisper his name making him feel hot, every nerve on fire as the excitement and anticipation of pleasure – of you – rolls through him.

He knows the passage by heart, knowing every event taking place between what he pretends to be you and himself, his own imagination even filling in the details, imagining little additions to the plot that the book doesn’t even mention – you whispering his name and tracing the tattoo across his forehead, the feeling of your soft fingers against his skin making him groan ever so lightly. And with that thought in mind, he’s gently bookmarking and placing the book back on the stand, instead taking a deep breath, black eyes appraising his throbbing cock desperate for attention and stimulation, your attention and stimulation.

He spends a moment stroking himself, the pulls of his wrist languid and slow, just barely enough stimulation to feel good – hesitant, almost, like he imagines you being. Would you be nervous, the first time you see him naked? He likes to imagine you’ve never been with a man before (though he knows it’s likely untrue), or at least that you’ve never cared so much about pleasing one, about making him feel good and pleasured and satisfied.

(He decides you would be a bit anxious – your touches small, unsure, your pretty eyes always flicking back up to his, your soft lip caught between your teeth, your thumb just barely brushing over his tip and making him murmur your name with a slightly strained voice.)

He’s quick to pull up his book of nen abilities, flipping through the pages until he finds the correct one, the familiar black lettering describing the ability making him shiver in anticipation. It’s easy to conjure up the familiar image of your face in his mind, the corresponding physical image appearing before him immediately, and as he opens his previously closed eyes, he sucks in a sharp breath at the image of you, your lashes and cheeks and pretty eyes staring up at him.

It’s perfect – a complete replica of you, down to every last mole, hair, and scar decorating your face. It’s a bit disorienting to see a version of just your head and hair floating, your eyes gorgeous yet lifeless, muscles unable to move freely on their own, but Chrollo moves past it quickly – how can he not, when you’re right there, so pliable and beautiful and for his use?

He swallows harshly as his free hand comes down to lightly run over your strands of hair, the texture familiar and pleasing to the touch, and he watches with unblinking eyes as he slowly pushes your head down, further until your unfocused eyes are level with the now pulsing erection sitting between his legs.

He bites his lip as he recalls the words of the passage, the eloquent language not diminishing the meaning behind the words. She kneeled before him, a servant to her master, lips parted and eyes appraising him as if he were a work of art, the single most valuable thing to have graced her gaze.

He imagines the way you’d stare at him, your eyes raking over his sculpted chest, the ‘v’ of his navel, your tongue flicking out over your lips as you appraise the pale length of his cock, the soft, smooth set of balls attached.

He hopes you’d be impressed, but impatience gets the better of him as he once again moves your head further forward, so that his tip brushes against your lifeless lips.

They’re cold, a stark difference to what he’s sure is an inviting, riveting, and wet mouth you possess, but he’s in no position to complain – certainly not when he remembers how the woman swallows him as if he were the most divine, succulent meal, savoring his taste as if it were her last.

It’s difficult to recreate the scene with your unresponsive mouth, but he’s carefully pulling your lower jaw down, your lips parted and tongue lolling out as he slowly, ever so fucking slowly, pushes inside, the small groan fighting its way up his throat telling of how even your cold mouth can affect him.

He shivers, the sensation climbing up his spine, and his fingers gently scrape your scalp as he gets a good grip, his head lolling back slightly and his eyes closing as he begins moving your head up and down, up and down, your cold saliva coating his length as he sighs and whispers your name under his breath.

The music in the background is soft, romantic, orchestral and something Chrollo very much imagines fucking you to. He likes to imagine the way your moans and breaths would blend in with the melodies and crescendos – though, the sounds you’d make when he’s got you creaming all over his fingers and cock would drown out any sort of background music, he’s sure.

Once again musters up more aura, conjuring up a replica of your hand that he quickly intertwines with his own, his fingers joining yours in shakily holding up his nen book. The pace is slow, soft, the moment feeling sweet yet erotic, and as he opens his eyes and stares half liddedly down at your unseeing eyes and unresponsive mouth, Chrollo curses, a small l-love, you’re so beautiful…

His fingers tighten around your hair as he comes closer, the book’s scenes flashing through his eyes as he picks up the pace of his wrist, your head coming down over his throbbing, sensitive skin quicker, the sensation climbing and climbing as his breath steadily gets harsher, soft groans tumbling past his now puffy and overbitten lips, the light flush across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose almost endearing.

He’s fairly quiet, only the occasional deep groan or murmur of your name, and as he gets closer, his grip around your fingers tightens, his breathing getting more ragged and uneven. His complexion reddens, his skin shining with a light sheen of sweat, abs clenching and twitching as the pleasure grows stronger, more acute, the feeling of you and your spit and your soft skin only spurring on the twitching of his cock.

The music climbs to a crescendo, his eyes peeling open to see the way your lips suck him in again and again and again, his cock glistening with spit and his hips bucking to get even deeper inside you, the visual of him fucking your face just too much too much –

He’s coming with a strangled gasp of your name, dark eyes blowing wide as his hips start thrusting on their own, plunging forward and down your throat, untimed and uneven.

He imagines the way you’d gag, your throat tightening up and your pretty eyes dotting with tears as he shoots load after load of watery, semi-bitter cum down your throat, the thought only making his hips jerk harder, his body spurred forward by the motivation to get as much of his cum as deeply down your throat as possible, to claim you as his in the most carnal, natural way.

He’s panting by the time the feeling dies down, a few strands of his carefully gelled back hair loose and framing the pale skin of his forehead and the tattoo decorating it. Beads of sweat frame his temples, his chest heaving still, his nipples hard and pebbled in the cool air of the bedroom.

It takes a moment for him to slowly regain his composure, giving your floating facial replica a gentle, long kiss on the forehead, his eyes fluttering closed and eyebrows scrunching up as he kisses you harder, more fervently, more desperately, trying to express every ounce of love and appreciation and want he has for you, even if it’s merely a cold, carbon copy of you that he’s kissing.

Then, he’s shutting the book and watching you disappear, a cold, familiar sense of loneliness settling into his chest.

The music is still on in the background, lulling him into a relaxed state as he lays on his back, body nude while he thinks back to the way the novel describes the post-sex cuddling, soft touches and sweet, affectionate words, lulled promises of loving each other forever, claims of ownership and commitments to stay together.

He sighs softly, the faintest smile gracing his lips as he imagines the way he’d hold you, your sweaty bodies pressed against one another, cum seeping from your cunt as you clutch onto him, your hair tickling his chin and neck, your soft breaths as you drift into sleep, feeling safe and protected by him…

Occasionally, on nights where he feels particularly restless for you, where the stress of running a wanted criminal group begins to get to him, he’ll conjure up your full body, and while it’s cold, unresponsive and unable to speak or look at him, it’s enough. Cuddling you, kissing your freezing skin and running his fingers over your jawline, collarbone, your supple curves is enough to have him slowly drifting to sleep, secure in your arms and dreaming of the day when you’re finally there to enact the scenes of his romantic, smutty novels with him in person, just as you should be. 

(He’ll never actually fuck your nen-conjured self, however. He feels it would be crossing the line – as if fucking your mouth isn’t – and although it wouldn’t feel nearly as good as the real you, he wants your first time together to be special, to be a true exploration of each other’s bodies and genuine reactions. So, rest assured, he doesn’t use the fuck doll he makes of you as a stand in for actual sex – he’ll just use your hand, or your mouth, or your breasts, or your thighs. Never that perfect cunt between your legs, the one that makes his mouth water and his fingers twitch.)

FAVORITE BODY PARTS:

Your Collarbone

In a lot of ways, Chrollo is a traditional man. Surely not with his profession, nor the company he keeps, and certainly not the way he feels for you – but still, some aspects of how he views intimacy are very classical.

That is, while he adores the sight of you in revealing, slutty clothing, with your tits nearly bursting out of the pathetic, stringy bralette and your pretty, puffy lips clearly visible through the sheer thong, there’s an appeal to the more sensual parts of your body that aren’t as oversexualized.

Specifically, Chrollo finds himself drawn to your chest – of course, your breasts are alluring and wonderful and fit in his hands so very perfectly, but his favorite spot of all is right above them.

The expanse of your collarbone is a sight that always manages to catch his eye, his dark gaze lingering on the symmetrical, pretty bones. He likes to trace them with his finger, his touch light and soft but insistent, running over the lines and pressing his thumb into the dip in the center.

It doesn’t matter if your collarbone is prominent or not – there’s just something about the intimacy of it all that makes him giddy, the fact that no one except him gets to feel this part of you making his possessiveness flare up and shivers race up his spine.

When he’s kissing you, his lips always find purchase there, traveling down your neck and the juncture of your shoulder, before settling heavily against your collarbone, soft lips pressing kisses and hickeys and biting against the skin.

When he’s pressed you up against the wall, his figure looming over you and his presence making you feel small and weak, he’ll leave a hand at the base of your throat, the heel of his palm pressing against your collarbone so that he can feel your pulse, feel the way you breath, feel you you you.

You’ll often wake up after nights of long, passionate fucking (love-making, he likes to say, though the way he loses control after his first orgasm and fucks you so hard it nearly hurts really only resembles an animal, not a man) with dark marks all over your collarbone, the entire area bruised and swollen and aching, a constant reminder of Chrollo’s presence.

When he kidnapped you, it was a very spur of the moment, rushed affair, and as a result you weren’t able to bring any of your own clothing – which means, outside of just roaming around naked (something that Chrollo certainly wouldn’t argue against), you’ll be left to dress with whatever he deems appropriate.

More often than not, that means shirts with very low necklines, off the shoulders, or with wide necks that show off your collarbone.

(It also means skirts and dresses, sheer tights or thin materials, things that show off your thighs and the curves of your legs – Chrollo’s second favorite spot on your body.)

You’ll catch him staring idly, his eyes hyperfocused on the area even when you’re speaking to him, and sometimes you can even actually see the way he zones out ever so slightly, an internal war taking place inside him because he wants to hear what you’re saying and watch your lips as you speak to him, but he just can’t stop staring at where he’d left a large, prominent hickey on the right side of your collarbone, feeling your pulse under his lips while he made you cream and squeeze and come all over his fingers, just for him.

He thinks you’re beautiful, and even if you aren’t, Chrollo finds your body to be elegant, truly a work of art, and your collarbone is the crowning jewel of said art.

So don’t be surprised when he’s forcing you to wear chokers and tight necklaces, the combination of the jewelry and the sleeveless top leaving the expanse between them open and vulnerable, perfect to suck on and kiss.

He’s just in love, and is it so wrong to find your body perfect, wonderful, so damn alluring that it drives him insane?

His fingers

From the moment his sexual urges towards you begin, his fantasies tend to revolve mostly around using his hands to please you.

Of course, he likes the idea of using his mouth on you or stuffing you full of his cock, and those fantasies are most definitely present, too.

(As are the ones where you’re pleasing him – he has to be careful with these fantasies, though, because if he’s in public, any thought of you dropping to your knees for him or pressing your pretty tits together and moving them up and down his cock gets him hard immediately, his orgasm already halfway there from just the thought of you wanting him to feel good.)

The majority of what he imagines in detail is really just him working at your body with his hands. They aren’t too terribly veiny, but they’re the perfect amount, just enough to get your gaze lingering on them, and seeing the way the tendons and muscles flex when he moves will make your throat feel dry.

Even the way his hands are connected to his forearms, veins dancing up the expanse of his pale arms can get you staring, embarrassment making your neck feel hot when he catches your gaping with a knowing look, that prideful, cocky smirk on his face making you feel hot in anger and a bit of excitement.

(He’s noticed your staring, and makes it a point to roll up the sleeves of his shirts to expose his wrists and forearms, even purposefully flexing the muscles when he sees your eyes on them, his own gaze eagerly examining your face for even a hint of awe, or attraction, or enjoyment.)

But the real draw of his hands are his fingers; they’re pale, nimble and surprisingly smooth, given his past and occupation, and they’re long. They’re always cold, the feeling making you shiver, and Chrollo has them pressed against you as often as possible.

He’s touchy, really, and while this often manifests as his hand sitting on the small of your back or your shoulder or brushing against your cheek, this habit certainly doesn’t change in the context of intimacy and sex.

When he’s got you underneath him, staring up at him with wide eyes and your lips all swollen and bruised from his harsh kisses, he’s immediately touching you, his hands coming up to rip off the shirt he’d picked out for you this morning, tearing the flouncy skirt he’d helped zip you into cleanly in half in his desperation.

He can’t control himself, really – he’s gripping at your thighs and the fat of your stomach, squeezing and kneading and wanting, and while that entertains him for a while, eventually he’ll be nudging your legs apart, fingers immediately tracing up the insides of your thigh, tickling you and making you suck in a breath as he gets closer and closer to where you need him. (Or, at least, where he thinks you need him.

He’s convinced he knows your body better than you do, though, so any amount of denying this claim will result in that same, familiar patronizing smile and a soft murmur of it’s okay, darling, your body says what your mind won’t.)

He likes to tease you, even though it ends up teasing him too, by pressing feather-light touches against your folds and sensitive clit, dark eyes flicking between your cunt and your face, eagerly taking in every expression and sound you give him.

He’ll ask you if you want more, for you articulate what you want, all because he needs to hear you say please Chrollo, I need your fingers inside, I want to feel you fuck me with your fingers! Eventually, though, his patience will snap, and he’ll push them inside, listening to your little gasps and moans as he immediately curls them, rubbing and pressing against the spots he knows make you moan and writhe.

He’s unfairly good with his fingers – he’s got the pacing and motions down perfectly, his stamina high enough to keep going throughout the entire night.

He’s always got a finger steadily working at your clit, rubbing slow, firm circles against the sensitive area until you’re coming for him, and while a lot of his desire to make you feel good genuinely comes from the place of wanting to please you, a lot of it is selfish, too.

By constantly stimulating your clit or loosening you up with his fingers, he’s making sure you’ll enjoy him, that when he’s fucking you and stuffing you with his cum, you’re wet enough and receptive enough, and god, the feeling of you coming on his cock, the constant pressure against your clit tipping you over the edge?

Well, don’t blame him when he’s gasping into your ear, a strangled sort of noise that almost sounds like your name, his cock twitching and throbbing inside you, before you feel warmth spilling into you, his black hair tickling your cheeks as he rests his face in the crook of your neck.

DRIVE:

In general, Chrollo’s libido isn’t the highest. Obviously, he desires you sexually and loves to kiss you, touch you, fuck you, make you scream his name and clutch onto him like you’ll otherwise die, but he doesn’t need to be in bed with you at all times. He doesn’t have to be making you cream and stuffing you full of his cock, fingers and cum every day.

(Every other day is ideal, or – if he’s particularly stressed or busy – maybe every two days, but that’s pushing it.)

No, Chrollo isn’t that sexually driven – though, he is that clingy, even if he’s good at not showing it. In general, there’s something about you that makes Chrollo feel, and he’s found that any sort of physical contact brings this strange, fluttering emotion in his chest, one he’s fairly sure is love – which ultimately results in the conclusion that in order to feel good, wanted, loved, touching you is something that he must do often.

The reality is that he’s never really had a partner, someone to give and receive genuine love and affection with, and the moment that he realizes how wonderful a hug can feel or how good of an experience simply locking pinkies can be, he’s hooked. Suddenly, those cliché, overt couple actions that used to intrigue him in a clinical way are much, much more interesting, the idea of wrapping his arms around your waist enticing in a way he can’t quite describe.

From pretty much the beginning of your time as his captive, Chrollo will be forcing affection onto you. It’s little things, mostly – things that make your skin crawl because they’re so innocent and sweet and pure that it makes you sick.

He’ll gently intertwine your hands with his, staring down and marveling at the sight of your fingers wrapped around his own, your smaller hand looking perfect against his.

He’ll press a kiss to your cheek or forehead after he compliments you (though, the compliments are always a bit strange – slightly threatening, or too specific, or just weird).  

Of course, while this affection and surplus of physical contact is generally innocent, slowly Chrollo’s tastes and urges begin to change slightly, going from wholesome, sweet acts to more questionable touches, actions that have you slightly cocking a brow, slightly not comfortable with the implications of his behavior.

Because really, while you’ll likely be just fine with him lacing his fingers with yours (though, it’s likely that you’ll be less happy with it and more just complacent, figuring that with his criminal status and abilities, there’s far worse he could do to you), things will get a bit complicated when his hands start resting at your waist, dipping ever so slightly lower to your hip, his fingers pressing just a bit tighter against your skin than you’re comfortable with.

What starts out with a mostly tolerable chaste kiss to the cheek will turn into his lips against yours, his tongue running along your lower lip, a small groan tumbling into your mouth as he forces his tongue inside, running it along your teeth and coaxing your own tongue to participate.

What begins as a simple pair of hands resting against your shoulders will become him running them down the length of your sides, thumbs pressing circles against the area right underneath your breasts, those dark eyes seeming to shine with something that makes your breath hitch.

Because really, while Chrollo does absolutely bask in the innocent affection he can garner from you, there’s just something about you that makes his more natural urges kick into gear, the area between his legs feeling warmer, more insistent, more desperate the more he kisses you, the more he holds you and whispers to you that he loves you so much my dear, won’t you let me show you the extent of my feelings? 

However, Chrollo is a smart man – when it comes to actually having sex or any sort of intimacy on the same level with you, he’s willing to be patient.

He doesn’t want to force you into anything, to make you uncomfortable or dislike him, to reverse any progress he’s made in getting you to fall utterly, completely in love with him, so he steels himself, mentally reminding himself every time he sees your plush thighs that he must wait.

He’ll chastise himself for almost losing control when you stretch, the sliver of exposed skin of your stomach and your cute little grunt nearly making him throw caution to the wind.

He has remarkable self control, and while you likely won’t know it, you’ll be seeing it in action nearly every moment he’s around you, especially when you’re already doing something affectionate, like hugging or sitting in his lap.

(He’s the one that’s forced you into these things, of course, but it doesn’t matter – if you make any sort of movement that isn’t prying him off or swatting his hands away, Chrollo considers you as being willing, happy, enjoying touching him, and the thought makes this pleasant, warm feeling bloom in his chest.)

He’s working incredibly hard to not push too far, but after some time of you not seeming to come around, not voicing any desire to go further, Chrollo decides he must resort to certain measures in order to speed up your progress.

Thus, he begins subtly trying to plant the idea in your mind, trying to tempt you into admitting that yes, you want him to reach underneath the frilly, white shirt he provided to you and cup your breasts, to roll your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, to feel you shiver and hear you sigh against his lips.

He wants to lay seeds in your mind so that you’ll come to the conclusion sooner that you want him to rest between your legs and use that talented, smooth talking mouth to make you talk, to hear you babble and cry out his name.

He’s talented at being discreet, and so as he moves his hands to rest closer to your ass, squeezing the plush of your thighs, leaving fluttering kisses against your neck, he’s hoping you’ll slowly come to the conclusion on your own, your own body and desires betraying you.

And quite honestly, while you’ll likely be uncomfortable at first, confused and a bit scared, eventually it’ll work – after all, charisma is something Chrollo possesses in mass quantities, and while you’re obviously not happy that you’ve been kidnapped, that the leader of a mass group of international criminals is holding you in his lap and nuzzling against your mouth, whispering to you that you’re so lovely, won’t you say my name darling, it’s difficult to not let the ideas form, the lack of human contact forcing you to imagine paths you rationally have no desire to.

It’ll make you feel dirty, like you’re betraying yourself and letting Chrollo win, but he’ll ultimately get exactly what he wants – he’s observant to a tee, and so once he notices the way you start clenching your thighs together ever so slightly as he tells you that he’d love to take care of you tonight, he’s inwardly smiling, pride swimming in his chest because finally,  finally you’re beginning to be affected by the subtle touches and words, things that could leave you second guessing, the possibility that maybe he wants to go further unrelenting in that sweet little head of yours.

And so, as he begins probing you, asking you how you’re feeling, if you’re satisfied, if you’re feeling like I give you everything you desire, he’s waiting with baited breath for you to embarrassedly admit that you want more, that you want something only Chrollo can give to you.

He’ll goat you into admitting it, telling you to be more specific, to tell him exactly what you want, because otherwise he won’t know, and then he can’t improve, now can he?

He’s calculating, smart, analytical and damn good at getting what he wants, and so ultimately you’ll cave, admitting that you want him to fuck me please, I just – just please…

He won’t outwardly be affected, but just know that the speed with which his erection makes itself known is directly tied to you, the eagerness of his body and his movements to undress you betraying him.  

And as he starts breathing a little heavier, stripping you of your clothing and his as well, it becomes hard to miss the way he’s eager, anxious, frantic to touch you.

You’ll see the signs of months of repressed sexual tension, months of desiring you but needing you to consent first, even as pressured as your admittance may be.

But in the end, does it matter?

Because when Chrollo’s hovering over you, those dark eyes fixed on your face with an intensity that’ll make you shiver, you’ll feel oh so taken care of, the small signs and subtle pushes making you insatiable for something you didn’t even know you desired. 

And Chrollo will be happy to keep providing for you – what kind of lover would he be if he didn’t? Besides, no one else canmake you feel like he does – not even you – he’ll make sure of it.

You only need him.

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Loud Sex

Generally speaking, Chrollo is a quiet man. He’s polite and personable, yes, but he doesn’t bother with unnecessary chatter – when he speaks it’s purposeful, calculated, commanding, and this is true even when it comes to you.

 You make him feel the closest he’s ever felt to being nervous, but he’s still not especially loud around you. He never shuts up, that’s true, always asking you questions and telling you about his day, about a flower that reminds him of you (a petal or two was missing, making him think of how you aren’t truly complete unless he’s with you), or even, on rare occasions, telling you a reason why he’s in love with you.

(It’s not as romantic as it sounds – the way he speaks about romance is too clinical, and the reasons he’ll give you are far too specific and detailed to really make you feel good.)

So yes, he speaks often, but he’s not loud.

And during sex, this stays true – the most you’ll get out of him is a low groan and a few heavy, drawn out sighs, or a few chants of your name when he’s getting close and he’s particularly pent up. He’s still not quiet though – he’s talking the whole time, dirty talk spilling from his lips about how you’re so beautiful, especially when you’re falling apart around my cock or that he loves when you moan, can you feel how I’m throbbing inside of you? It’s all for you, does it feel good to know you’re affecting me like this?

His voice is always sultry, always whispered directly into your ear, and while his particular brand of dirty talk is, more or less, mediocre (it’s always too long and makes you think too much; you’d prefer something shorter, something more explicit, something coming from anyone aside from him), Chrollo likes the concept of sex not being quiet. Specifically, he likes when you fill in the silence.

There’s something about the noises you make that make him absolutely feral – similarly to his curiosity about you in everyday life, he wants to understand you sexually. He wants to hear every sound you have to offer – he needs to understand what’s causing you to make that noise and how to keep you making it. He needs to hear every little thing, to have a mental catalogue of the different noises and cries he can pull from your pliable body.

It doesn’t matter if you’re naturally loud or quiet – he will be expecting you to put on a show for him, your body a canvas for him to create a masterpiece on, your every gasp, moan, and sigh a paint stroke that eventually comes together to form you, a piece of art Chrollo wants to keep stolen away from the world forever.

He’s not particularly shy about this desire of his, either – it’s very easy to tell that he’s striving to get you to moan for him, because you’ll feel his fingers work in that certain way, grinding and rubbing in that particular spot, those dark eyes wavering in excitement because he absolutely loves the way you sound gasping his name.

You can tell he’s aiming to get you vocal when he’s pressing his face between your legs, dark hairs tickling your thighs as he diligently works his tongue against your clit, the sensation partnered with the insistent thrusting of his fingers inside you not stopping until you groan his name, and then only getting harder, that same motion being repeated over and over because he needs to hear it again.

He’s like an addict, really – once he hears a noise he finds pleasant (every noise you make, really), he’s trying everything in his power to get you to make it again, wanting to have auditory evidence (to match the slick coating his fingers and the smell of your arousal) that you’re enjoying this, that you’re enjoying him and the way he’s touching you. It’s selfish, really, because while giving you pleasure is great and brings you a step closer to desiring him as he desires you, it quells his possessiveness.

It makes him feel good because it’s proof that he’s affecting you, that the motions and pleasure his body is bringing you is making you feel good, that your brain is mush because of him. It’s proof that your thighs are trembling and shaking because of the way he’s massaging and toying with your clit.

It’s proof that your lips are swollen and puffy and parted because of the way he’s kissing your neck and kneading at your breasts. It’s proof that he’s the only one on your mind, that your every thought is revolving around him him him, that your body and brain can only focus on Chrollo alone.

It makes him feel good, knowing that no other man could possibly be in your thoughts in moments like these, and the more he can get you moaning and screaming and sobbing in pleasure, the higher the likelihood of you focusing solely on him. So really, any time the two of you are intimate, expect your voice to be hoarse the next day – he needs you to be making noise, and he’ll even tell you as much.

He’ll tell you to show me how badly you need me inside you, moan my name and cream on my fingers and I might consider adhering to your wishes.

He’ll tell you to say his name, to tell him that he feels good, and even to narrate exactly what you’re feeling.

(That last one is a favorite of his – it’s so dirty, and it fills him with pride and arousal to hear you say that he feels s’good, your fingers are so big and it’s making me feel so full and good and fuck, Chrollo, please let me come!)

It’s an obsession, truly, one that rivals the one he holds for you – so really, just give him what he wants.

Fake the moans (but be careful, because he can normally tell – though, as he gets closer to his own orgasm, his façade slips and the true lustful, crazed man underneath his carefully constructed exterior rears its head, his snapping hips and messy hair evidence of just how much you affect him. He’s less able to tell apart your fake moans from real ones in these moments, and when he’s right on the edge, any noise from you will have him toppling over, gripping onto you and coming, filling you so fully that it leaks out, white spilling all over your thighs and dripping down his balls.)

He just wants you to be vocal, and it’s in your best interest to meet his demands – the night will be long and very, very painful if you don’t; Chrollo knows your body well enough to overstimulate you past your threshold, the pleasure melting into pain with each orgasm he tears from your body.

Begging

While Chrollo is a difficult man to decipher, one thing you’ll learn about him is that he’s very, very susceptible to your begging.

Of course, he doesn’t always give in to what you want – your escape and freedom, for example, are things he’ll never grant you, no matter how incessantly and long you beg. (And no matter how you offer your body or your fake affections or any number of things.)

He’s stringent about many things, but in the bedroom he’s more or less easy to win over – you just have to know how to do it correctly.

It takes a very specific methodology to get him to listen to your wishes, to have him do exactly what you need in order to feel good. And that methodology is mostly rooted in begging him to do what you want, what you need in order to seek the pleasure you’re wanting.

And frankly, just hearing you say his name and beg him for literally anything has his hips stuttering, arousal spiking through him because god, you must really want him, huh?

There’s something so riveting and right about the power imbalance that you begging him for pleasure sets up; he’s the one in control, giving you what he deems as the right amount of pleasure, controlling your orgasm and deciding when – and if – you’ll be allowed to come.

It’s a power trip that gets his heart racing and his cock flushing bright red, his chest swelling with pride and greed because god, every fucking inch of you belongs to him, and when you acknowledge that it makes him want to fuck you hard enough to make you scream his name.

You’ll need to beg, but even more than that, you’ll need to mix the begging with some sort of compliment. He’s good at telling when you’re lying, though, so the compliment must be somewhat genuine – tell him his fingers feel so good, oh Chrollo you’re gonna make me come, don’t stop! Tell him that he’s so big, you feel so – so big inside me, oh god, please harder, I need you harder!

If you intermix the compliments in with your begs, Chrollo is almost certain to at least consider your wishes, fucking you harder or deeper or angling his fingers just right, anything and everything to get you to keep talking, to keep paying attention to him and telling him how much you need him.

He may not show it, but he really, really wants you to enjoy sex with him, both because seeing you writhe in pleasure gives him pleasure, and also because it means you’re giving him all your focus and attention. So really, if things aren’t going quite as they should to really get you off or to make you feel good, using this master formula will often yield the results you desire – he’s a sap, even if he doesn’t show it, even if he’s not fully aware of it himself.

What he is aware of, though, is this little strategy of yours.

He’s figured it out; you’re not as smooth as you think, and although it boosts his ego and makes his heart race when you compliment him, Chrollo knows there’s an ulterior motive behind your words. And so begins a game of cat and mouse – he likes the way you beg for him, and he doesn’t want you to stop, so he’ll only slightly give in to your request.

This will, in turn, make you beg for more, a new compliment and moans slipping from your lips that get Chrollo gulping and steeling his resolve, his fingers moving slightly to the spot you want them, his pace getting slightly faster, only half-assedly doing what you’d begged for.

The cycle repeats, Chrollo managing to milk you for every last possible bit of praise and desperation for his touch, until he’s eventually giving in, doing things just as you ask for so that you’re a shaking, moaning mess for him, completely falling apart on his fingers. He’s aware of the game you’re playing, and frankly, as time passes Chrollo will begin purposefully not touching you like how he knows you like.

You like to be fingered quickly, with a certain angle and a certain rhythm? Well, he’s finger fucking you at a moderate pace, aiming for a certain spot an inch or so away from your sweet spot, the rhythm just slightly off.

It’ll be enough to get you squirming, your face scrunching up in pleasure and need, your eyes teary and watery as you beg him to go just a hair faster, because it always feels so good when you go fast, please make me feel good, Chrollo!

You’ll go through the cycle three or four times, but he’ll almost always eventually give in – with one big, glaring exception.

Chrollo really likes to bring you to orgasm, it’s true – however, he really, really likes when you beg for permission to orgasm, waiting to fully let go until he’s given you the okay to make a mess all for him.

He wants you to beg him to please let me come, please Chrollo I wanna come for you, all the while he’s holding off just a bit, not quite pushing you over the edge with his thrusts or flicks of his tongue.

He knows your body so well that he’s able to hold you right where he wants you, right on the brink of coming but not quite, just so that you’re unbearably close but needing that one final push. And he’ll milk this out of you, too – he’s unashamed with how he asks you to repeat yourself, to tell him exactly what you need, to moan his name and show him just how badly you want to come for him.

He wants you to be prickling with embarrassment at how unabashedly you shame, loving the way you get all shy and bashful when he tells you to beg me to fuck you into an orgasm, love, and then you’ll get it.

It makes him giddy to see the way you writhe and cry out his name so wantonly, your desperation to find your high trumping over any bit of self-respect you pretend to have, because ultimately you’re choosing him and the pleasure he can give you over this stupid, rebellious side of yourself that’s unwilling to accept his love.

It’s good, a step in the right direction, and by forcing you to beg him permission to orgasm (an orgasm caused by him, no less), Chrollo simultaneously gets to push you a smidge closer to willingly being his, and he also gets to feel you come for him.

(A sight that normally pushes him unbearably close to his own orgasm – just a few thrusts inside you and he’s blowing his load, cum spurting inside you as he gasps your name under his breath, the warmth settling into his stomach both a result of his orgasm and giddiness that you’re starting to come around, aren’t you?)

He just loves when you beg, and although you think you have the power in the situation, thinking you’ve got him figured out, you really, really don’t. You never do, after all, and Chrollo will always outsmart you.

So just tell him you want his cock, beg him to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow, and he’ll give you just that – not without a few caveats, though.

Oral Fixation

While your collarbone may be his favorite part of your body, Chrollo really, really grows to love your mouth.

He’s always been entranced by the gentle curve of your lips, the shape playing behind his eyelids as he sleeps at night, driving him crazy when you aren’t yet by his side, making sleep – already elusive enough for him – nearly impossible to find.

(You’ll never know, but on nights where he can’t stop thinking of your lovely lips and how soft and warm and bitable they’d be, he’ll begrudgingly turn to his pillow, his own pale pink lips pressing against the silk, his eyes fluttering closed as he presses hesitant kisses against the material. As he gets more comfortable, he’ll move towards using his tongue; letting it flick out against the pillowcase, imagining it’s actually pressing into your mouth, brushing against your own and coaxing it to rub against his, to suck, his own tongue running along your teeth and reaching deeper and deeper into you until there’s not an inch of space he hasn’t touched and licked and tasted -)

He’s thought endlessly of how you might taste; would your saliva be sweet, or perhaps a nice, neutral taste? He’ll lick his lips while he contemplates, unconsciously salivating himself as he imagines how you’d taste as he kisses you, your scent and feel and everything else about you overwhelming him and making him dizzy in the best possible way.

He’s thought of the way you’d place kisses against his skin, how soft your lips would feel against the hard planes of his chest, against the firm, defined muscles of his thighs, against his neck.

He’s spent many, many nights imagining the way your mouth and lips would worship his body; he imagines you’d start with his own lips, kissing him and moaning into his mouth with fervor, your tongue slipping out to meet his, saliva and spit getting all over your chins because every time he imagines kissing you it’s messy, sloppy and earnest and dirty.

He likes to think you’d move onto his jawline next, placing wet, open-mouthed kisses along the sharp line, tracing it from his chin all the way back to the juncture of his jaw, leading up to kiss and lightly suck at his ear.

You’d take his lobe gently between your teeth, lightly pulling and tugging just to hear him harshly exhale, your tongue even coming up to lick at the shell of his ear, your breath warm and sensual as you breath and whisper his name.

You’d move onto his neck, next, sucking kisses and hickies against the pale skin, the perfect canvas for you to leave your artwork against. He wants you to mark him up – he may be the dominant one in the relationship, sure, and he may the one indisputably in charge of everything, but there’s something endearing about wanting to stake your claim on him. It makes him feel good, desired, possessive over you, and he’ll proudly don his coat with the dark marks all along his neck, perhaps even pulling the collar to the side a bit so that others can see that he’s yours.

Then you’ll move down to his chest; he wants to feel you press fast, quick kisses all over the plain of his chest and abdomen, your tongue tracing the lines of his abs and making him shiver. He wants to feel your lips wrapped around his nipples, sucking and running your tongue over the sensitive skin, leaving a wet pop noise as you pull back.

He wants you to kiss along his thighs, the kisses here more harsh and demanding, maybe even sinking your teeth into his skin just to get his eyes rolling to the back of his head, your sudden display of dominance (or brattiness, rather) making something primal sound from the back of his throat.

And of course, Chrollo’s fixation with your mouth extends towards your ability to suck – before you two reach a point of sexual contact, he’ll firmly trace your lips with his fingertips, only to push past them and situate his fingers against your tongue, a small smile on his lips as he sighs softly and tells you to suck, my love, I’m sure you know how.

He’ll watch with wide eyes and baited breath as you work your tongue along his digits, slipping between them and letting your lips suction, the warmth and wetness making his pants tight and his cock ache, desperation nearly sending him over the edge as precum drools from his tip. And god, when you use your mouth on his cock?

Chrollo is a fairly composed man, yes, but even he can’t keep up that image when you’re sucking on him like you’re trying to suck out his soul, your lips gliding up and down his length, the suction and feel of your tongue rubbing against that sensitive spot on the underside of his tip making his abs clench and contract, his hips getting a mind of their own as they thrust and buck and hump.

He loves when you use your mouth on him, and although he tries to let you set the pace yourself and do things at your own leisure and speed (mostly because he likes seeing what you come up with, how you think he’ll be pleased), he’ll reach a point as he nears his orgasm where he takes over, his hands grasping onto your head and physically moving it up and down, controlling the depth and pace as he groans lowly, his orgasm powerful and heady and numbing as he comes, cum spilling down your throat as he holds you tightly against his pelvis, the short black hairs sitting at his navel ticking your nose.

Another spot that makes him melt when you lick and touch is his balls.

They’re always full, heavy, swollen, aching and begging to be fondled and licked and emptied, and what better way than with your soft, pretty lips and your nimble tongue? He likes to watch the way you stroke at his shaft and move your attention to each sack, tongue coming out to lick and tease, the sensation making him suck in a shaky breath – the sound so quiet you very nearly miss it.

He wants you to take on in your mouth, the warmth making his knees feel weak, the feeling of you lightly sucking making him have to clutch onto whatever surface is nearest just to steady himself.

It’s so dirty – seeing the way your lips stretch to accommodate something so big, and by the time you’re through with them he wants his balls to be positively smothered in your spit, glistening in the light and sensitive to the touch because you’ve worked him up so well.

Of course, Chrollo enjoys when you touch him in pretty much any way, but there’s just something about your mouth that he finds himself gravitating towards, because while it’s intimate and wonderful to fuck you, when you use your mouth – something that feels more taboo, more personal, more sacred – well, that’s a different thing, isn’t it? It means you want him, you want to taste him, that you like his aftertaste of musk and cum to linger in your mouth long after you’ve finished him off.

Chrollo just likes the implications of it all – and seeing you on your knees or feeling your lips against his neck will just make him shiver, excitement and lust and love pooling in his gut, all directly at sweet, perfectly little you.

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Holding your hand

It’s not really a kink, but you’ll notice quite quickly into your sexual relationship with Chrollo that he has a habit of always managing to interlock your fingers when he’s fucking you.

The first few times you’ll think it’s sweet, deciding that although it seems out of character for a mass murderer to want to hold you hand when he’s already stuffed as deeply inside of you as possible, it’s kind of endearing.

It seems like a manipulation tactic at first, honestly – you don’t trust Chrollo, not at all, and despite the fact that you’ve caved and given into your bodily desires to have him touch you and pleasure you, you don’t like him. Maybe this is some ploy to get you to fall for him – you’ve seen him reading articles and researching on ways to make women feel loved and valued during sex, his dark eyes diligently and eagerly scanning the words.

(You didn’t bring this up to him, however – the conversation that would’ve ensued would’ve been unbearable, and what would you even say? Chrollo, why do you want me to feel wanted during sex? What are you playing at? Is it not enough for you that I’ve already admitted I want you to touch me?)

The truth, actually, is none of those things – of course, he does view sex as a way to bring you closer to him and get you closer and closer to returning his feelings, but the hand holding actually isn’t something he’s meticulously planned.

The constant stimulation and attention to your clit, he’d known from the beginning – making you come feels good, yes, but he needs you to enjoy it, to realize that he can give you pleasure consistently, that he knows his way around your body. But the hand holding?

Well, the first time he fucks you, he’s genuinely gone – you can’t tell, not really, but from the moment he slips inside of you, he’s fighting to keep his composure, his hips begging him to just ruin you, to fuck into you as hard and fast as he can – even if it means spilling himself inside of you in as little as two minutes. He finds himself drifting away and getting lost in the pleasure that first time, and subconsciously his hand is finding yours, needing something to grip onto, something to ground him and keep him from coming much too early.

His cold fingers lace with your own, pressing your hand against the mattress as he continues humping his hips into yours, and he’ll squeeze your hand when the pleasure gets especially strong, his grip so tight it nearly bruises you.

He needs to hold your hand – it’s comforting, but more than that it keeps him connected to you.

It feels intimate, like something reserved only for you, because even though he’s slept with other women before, never has it been like this. Never has he actively been trying to make them feel good, and never has he actively been hoping they’ll want to fuck him again and again and again, something that he ardently, feverishly hopes you feel.

Holding your hand becomes something of a tradition; it gets easier to not immediately orgasm when he slips inside you, but still his hand moves on its own, capturing yours and squeezing, his dark eyes boring into yours and the veins on his hand standing out.

It’s romantic, he thinks, and even when he’s kissing you and throwing your legs over his shoulders, balls clapping loudly against your ass as he pants and whispers your name under his breath, his hand will stay in yours.

And his grip is tight – you can’t pull your hand out, he won’t let you. You’re not allowed to, because this makes the sex special, intimate, meaningful – it makes the two of you closer, your bodies truly united in more ways than one.

He loves you, he promises, and frankly, it’s best if you don’t mention this habit – he won’t tell you the truth, instead letting a small smile flit his lips and telling you cryptically that it helps me know if you’re feeling good.

That’s bullshit – it’s all for him, but you don’t need to know that gripping your hand like its his lifeline is the only thing keeping him sane when he fucks you – it’s the only thing keeping him from bucking into you like a wild animal, filling you full of cum like some sort of predator.

Voyeurism

Chrollo has a rather nasty habit of watching you. He’s not quite as overt as some other members of the Troupe, but it’s not hard to notice the way those dark eyes are always trained on your figure, observing, scrutinizing, staring with an intensity that makes you feel like a bug under a microscope.

He just finds you utterly fascinating, and he honestly finds himself unable to look away from you. You’re captivating in every sense of the word, and his feelings don’t change when it comes to the bedroom – he’s constantly, constantly looking at you.

The eye contact can be sexy, sometimes, in the right circumstance, but most of the time the intensity makes you nervous, embarrassment settling in your gut because you feel like he can see every inch of you, every imperfection and flaw.

He’s always looking at you while he’s fucking you, those eyes boring into yours as his hips snap into you, faster and faster and harder and harder, watching your face as you get close to coming, seeing how you fall apart for him and cry out his name.

He’s staring and breathing a bit harshly when you’re taking him down your throat, mesmerized by the way your lips slot around him, how his cock appears and disappears again and again, your little gagging noises when you take just a bit too far down making him near feral.

He’s even staring at you while he sucks on your clit, fingers curling inside you as he looks up at you from under his lashes, the eye contact making you shy away and close your thighs around his head, just wishing he'd stop staring at you like you’re some slab of meat for him to devour.

But more than anything, Chrollo likes to observe the way you look when you’re feeling good – pleasure looks good on you, and especially before you allow him to touch you in an overtly sexual way, Chrollo will have you touch yourself for him, all the while he gets a front row seat.

It’s thrilling, the way you spread yourself open on your fingers, tugging your lip between your teeth as you rub small, tight circles against your clit, your thighs trembling from both the pleasure and the weight of his gaze.

He’ll settle himself into a chair at the end of the bed, sitting with his legs crossed and his fingers digging into the armrests, his eyes trained directly on you. He’ll alternate between staring at your face and staring at your cunt, too entranced by it all to fully commit to one or the other.

He likes seeing the way you work yourself, how you flick your fingers or turn your wrist, the pace and tempo and precision of your movements.

He likes to stare at your breasts, watching them heave in time with your chest, seeing your nipples perk up and pebble up, looking hard and pinchable and suckable, like the perfect spot to rest his lips.

He’ll stare at the way your thighs tremble and jerk together occasionally, the pleasure and risqué of being Chrollo’s entertainment making everything feel heavier, stronger, more intense.

He’ll request that you finger yourself or play with your clit or touch your tits, anything and everything because he wants to see everything.

 Of course, it’s nothing new to him – he’d watched you masturbate countless times before he stole you away, enjoying the vulnerability of it all, your weak, alluring form totally unaware of the eyes watching your most intimate moments.

But now, now, it’s different – you know you’re being watched now, and that adds a certain layer to your actions that makes Chrollo lick his lips, because while seeing your naked body and hearing your barely contained moans has his cock standing at attention in mere seconds, the fact that you’re reacting so strongly to knowledge that it’s Chrollo staring gets his ears feeling hot and his hands twitching, aching to reach out and touch you.

There’s something alluring about the fact that you’re acting all shy and bashful because it’s him that’s watching you like a hawk, his cock clearly hard against his stomach as he stares, obviously enjoying the sight.

He likes to know that he’s affecting you, that you’re thinking of him, that he’s on your mind as you play with yourself and make yourself come – it’s hot, frankly, and although it’s a test of his self control (one he struggles with far more than you’ll ever know), watching you bring yourself to orgasm is the best foreplay he can imagine.

Because then, he can watch himself bring you to orgasm, and isn’t that just the prettiest, loveliest sight?

Isn’t you falling apart for him, moaning and writhing and scratching down his back, the single most valuable thing on this Earth?

He’s a thief, after all, and anything valuable is his for the taking – including you.

BIGGEST FANTASY:

Chrollo is, without a doubt, extraordinarily possessive. You’re completely and utterly his, his property and under his ownership, to the point where he’ll often refer to you as such in passing with another Troupe member, no matter how demeaning and belittling his hummed response of yes, she’s my most prized possession may be.

You’re the only thing he’s ever wanted this badly, the only thing he’s ever wanted so much that it physically hurts, and he has no qualms with acting on these possessive urges, claiming you as his and only his.

However, Chrollo presents an odd juxtaposition in bed – while he absolutely does not want anyone else to ever see you in such a vulnerable, intimate position, there’s a certain allure to the idea of fucking you in public that he simply can’t shake off.

Of course, he’s thoroughly unwilling to allow you to be seen by other people, for your perfect, lovely body to be ogled by other human beings, those who are completely unworthy of being graced by your soft curves, your pretty moans, your twitching thighs and dripping hole.

You’re his to ogle and play with and make a mess of, and although the idea of another man watching you fall apart for Chrollo is appealing in its own right, he’d never be willing to stomach the idea of you seeing another man – or another man seeing you – when you’re in your most vulnerable, intimate position.

And these conflicting desires lead him to a sort of problem. On the one hand, he wants more than anything to fuck you in front of an audience, because what signifies ownership more than claiming you publicly, and what more can he do to show the world that you’re his, that he’s made his mark on you and you’ll never be loved by another?

But on the other, he can’t stand the thought of actually fucking you in public, which leads to a compromise – that is, it’s just so easy to spend a night in a bedroom high, high above the streets, the city skyline out the window and from the balcony mesmerizing, the dark night making the lights shine and the people they illuminate shine as well.

It’s not ideal, but Chrollo has found that the only way he can think of to satisfy this intense sexual fantasy with you is to simply fuck you in a space where no one can see you, but you can see everyone – thus, the window of some fancy, swanky hotel should do the trick, right?

Then everyone, whether knowingly or not, will be witnessing Chrollo claim every fucking inch of you, right?

It’s perfect, and something he’s so, so desperate to try out with you – just the thought gets his body feeling hot, his pants uncomfortably tight, and this strong, dizzying excitement brewing in his chest.

“The room is really lovely, Chrollo.” You compliment, appraising the room bathed in maroon and gold, the intricacies of the wallpaper and bed sheets catching your eye. It’s a simple one bed room, an adjoining bathroom to the side, but the real showstopping aspect of the horribly overpriced room is the set of floor to ceiling, pristine glass windows facing the night city, the various buildings too far to truly make out any specifics. It’s situated downtown, but Chrollo has made sure to secure a room on the fiftieth floor – towering above any nearby skyscrapers, thus giving him the privacy he’s been fantasizing of. 

            “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” Comes his response, smooth and suave, though you think you can hear the smallest smidge of pride.

            Making your way towards the windows, you stare across the sleeping city skyline, trying to memorize every detail you can, while Chrollo watches you from across the room, excitement swirling in his chest at the prospect of what’s to come. 

            He’s quick to join you, standing beside you and glancing towards your awed face, chuckling softly and using his thumb to trace the line of your cheekbone. “You’re staring, love.”

            You blink a few times, before throwing him a playful glare. “And so are you.”

            He’s silent for a moment, before he leans down to press his lips against your own, his dark eyes fluttering closed. “How could I not, when something so beautiful is standing before me?”

            His words are sweet, and they have you bashful despite yourself – something Chrollo doesn’t hesitate to exploit, as he pulls you in deeper to the kiss. His hand rests snugly at your waist, the other coming up to cup the back of your neck, his lips working faster against your own, though the kiss is still softer, less insistent. 

            That changes quickly though, as your hand reaches out to brush against the growing bulge resting in his black slacks, a small hum pressed against your lips as Chrollo unconsciously moves closer to the action. Soon you’re unabashedly groping him, fingers idly squeezing and lightly pressing against him as he deepens the kiss, lips getting needier as the minutes fly by, small gasps and breaks for air the only sounds reverberating through the night air of the hotel room. 

            Insistent hands grasp onto the hem of your shirt, pulling upwards and exposing the expanse of your stomach, the soft skin immediately felt and caressed by the man before you, his fingertips oddly soft for his line of work. He pulls back slightly from the kiss, dark eyes slowly opening to meet your hazy gaze, a small smile quirking on his lips as he moves forward to your ear, breath ghosting against the sensitive skin. 

            “Undress for me, darling.” His words are sin, his voice smoother than silk, the timbre making a shiver race up your spine as you gulp and follow his instructions, peeling each layer of cloth separating your body from his wandering touch. Chrollo’s dark eyes take every movement in, excitement burning in his chest as your body is slowly revealed to him, your skin soft and supple and touchable. 

            His fingers twitch. 

            He’s quick to follow suit, sliding off his jacket, pants and undergarments, leaving him nude in all his glory, prompting you to rake your eyes across his sculpted chest, the lines of his biceps, the sharp ‘v’ of his navel, and of course, the eager, flushed cock pressing harshly against his lower stomach, practically begging for your attention and touch. 

            “You’re beautiful, my dear,” He starts, approaching you and bringing a thumb up to trace your cheekbone, that same small smile decorating his lips. His lashes are long, easy to see from this distance, and as your lips part to respond, he cuts you off with his thumb placed against your tongue, his eyes shining brighter. 

            “Why don’t we show the world just how beautiful you really are?” His voice is oddly uneven, the excitement dancing in those dark depths of his gaze making you arch your brows slightly, confusion lacing your features as Chrollo gently pushes your shoulders. The glass hitting your backside is cold, the smooth surface alien against you as you squeak slightly.

            “What – what do you mean?” You ask, voice small as he sharply inhales, his other hand coming down to run along your side as his eyes trail along your lips and down to your breasts. He smiles as he takes in your nipples, the skin puckering. 

            “Wouldn’t it be such a shame to keep a beauty like you hidden from the world? Don’t you want everyone to know,” he starts, leaning into your neck before kissing down until he reaches the juncture of your shoulder. “That you belong to me?”

            He bites down, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to get you gasping out and throwing your head back slightly, the glass cold against your scalp. 

            “Would you like that? Do you want the world to know how much you crave me?” He asks, his voice low and husky. 

            You bite your lip and nod, murmuring out an agreement. 

            “Can’t hear you darling, try again.” 

Embarrassment creeps up your neck as you tell him in a louder voice, “Yes Chrollo, please, want everyone to know that my body was made for you, please!”

He shivers against you, his bare skin against yours making your head spin. His eyes are wide as he stares down at you. “Good, because I’m going to fuck you hard enough that no one will question who owns you.”

And with that, he’s spinning you around so that you’re face to face with the glass. The material is cold, your nipples rubbing against it and making your thighs rub together at the strange sensation. A sea of lights fall before you, the city glowing from so many meters in the air. 

His hands settle at your waist, squeezing slightly before sliding down over your hips, the smooth breath he exhales by your air making you shiver. Every sense feels heightened, and although you know no one can see you from so far below, it still sends a thrill through you at the idea that someone could, if they tried hard enough. Eventually his hands lightly pull at your hips, pulling your ass back towards his pelvis and making you bend over slightly, so that your cunt is poised out for him while your breasts still press against the cold glass.

Chrollo hums from behind you, a finger tracing down your spine and ending up right over your fluttering hole, slipping inside carefully and feeling the way you clench down on him, the sharp little gasp you give him only making another bead of precum drool from his tip, his groin throbbing and pulsing with the need to bury himself inside you, to thoroughly fuck the tight, warm cunt he’s feeling around his fingers.

He pulls them out abruptdly, making you whine a bit and wiggle your hips, the sight forcing Chrollo to tightly shut his eyes, grappling for control over himself. “Now love, in order to let everyone know just who you belong to, you’ll have to be loud enough to hear, yes?”

You nod, muttering something in agreement, but Chrollo cuts you off with a wide smile, his eyes flashing as he grips his cock and lines himself up. “Scream for me.”

And with that he’s pushing himself inside, not pausing for a moment to let you adjust. He’s thrusting into you with force, the sheer strength making you rock forward with each pulse of his hips. Your hands press against the glass, your cheek smooshed against the cold material as you moan and cry out his name, the angle hitting you deep and the eroticism of the whole situation making your head swim.

Chrollo leans in close behind you, his breath already a bit heavy and ragged. “Do you like – ngh, do you like this love? Getting fucked while so many people could be watching?”

You moan out a yes in response, gasping and feeling your whole body shake as his fingers snake between your legs and begin working at your clit.

He laughs breathlessly behind you, his chest pressing against your back. His lips brush against your ear, his breath hot and heavy, and you feel him twitch inside you, his orgasm looming near.

“Let’s give them a good show, yes?”

            And when he pulls out a few minutes later, turning you around and letting his cum spraying from his tip and landing on your chest and stomach in ropes, he can only flutter his eyes closed and mutter your name, before peeling them open and exhaling shakily.

            He’ll push you right back up against the window, a knee forcing itself between your legs to open you back up again, his cock still hard and insistent and aching to finish inside you this time. Meanwhile, his cum smears against your skin and the glass, leaving a film that makes you shiver – the glass is cold but his cum is hot. You moan as he forces himself back inside you, immediately continuing with the brutal, rough pace he’d taken earlier, determined to let the whole city see how prettily you take his cum inside you this time.

            And when you’re done, some forty five minutes later, with two loads of warm, runny cum spilling from between your legs, the smears of his first orgasm all over the glass and your tits will only make him lick his lips, arousal once again simmering in his gut.

            Maybe this time the city would like to see how pretty you look when you squirt.

[twigs-sprigs]

I'm so curious about how are Lloyd's hands and legs- like, he always use large clothes and I want to know as far as their animal traits go- ヽ(*´□`)ﾉﾞ

Maybe in swimsuit? Idkk

my version of lloyd does prefer larger and more comfy clothing when it comes to day to day life! but he's also the kind of dude who would sleep shirtless and with a pair of sweatpants on HJKDJHWJDW one of the reasons he prefers this stuff is because his tail is pretty big and also protrudes from his back, but also i mean, considering his line of work, he gets injured a lot, and tight clothes just wouldn't exactly make dealing with injuries any easier. plus, he's lazy. he has like. one outfit other than his gis. as for animal traits, when he was younger he used to be a lot more creechur-y in his behavior, but as he grew he taught himself to contain his impulses in that regard, but some of his powers include: exceptional hearing, wall-climbing, talking to animals (also oni form and dragon form, but these tend to make him exhausted, so they're kind of a last resort option) (fun fact! he's also in part cold blooded so he does not do well in the cold, and he's very sensitive to temperature in general) i kind of inspired him off of a lot of my interests, especially spiderman when it comes to his abilities, so he does also have kind of a spider-sense power that originates from his oni side (ofc he doesn't call it that but still!) uh he can also purr i guess yeah ! im probably forgetting some stuff but hey this is a nice little post about my lloyd for anyone who cares lol

(also for anyone wondering, this lloyd is my dragons rising design, and the timeskip between this and crystallized is about five years so do with that what you will????)

[scribbledghost]

Congrats on the 3k followers, you deserve them all and even more!! For the celebration, I'd like to request Simon + number 34. After the drabble in neighbor!AU where reader meets Ghost for the first time and it ended up being a false alarm, I'm curious to see how Simon would react to reader being put in an actual dangerous situation.

Note: (The original post in question) Thank you so much friend!! I still really love that drabble, thank you for requesting this so I can explore the concept a little more! (I know these are supposed to only be 500 words, but I got a little carried away with this one oops) 3K Follower Prompt List 34. Character In Peril

It’s several months after your initial run-in with Ghost on Simon’s military base when your house gets broken into in the middle of the night.

True to form, Simon hadn’t said much about the incident on-base other than a quick apology later that evening for having to meet Ghost in such a manner.

“Would you really have killed anyone who came through the door?” you asked softly after he apologized.

The only response he gave at the time was a kiss to your forehead and a quiet “would’ve done whatever I needed to to keep you safe, love”.

His words ring in your head once more as you drop to your knees on the direct order of the masked figure in front of you in your living room. You’ve tried to reason with him, tried to tell him to just take what he wants and leave, but you quickly realize he isn’t there purely to steal property.

He’s there to terrorize.

You aren’t quite sure how long the intruder spends kneeling in front of you and whispering vulgar threats, but your heart drops when you look up and see another figure by the front door.

However, your dread quickly turns to hope when the new man lifts a finger to his lips in a “shush” motion, drawing your gaze to his face. Or rather, what you can see of his face.

It’s Simon. You’d know those eyes anywhere. 

Actually, no. It’s not Simon. Not exactly.

Judging by the tightly-wound body language, pistol in his hand, and skull balaclava, it’s Ghost.

How he’d known you were in trouble, you're not sure. You suppose that doesn’t matter now. 

You try to not draw the man’s attention to the sudden presence behind him, and Ghost approaches whisper-quiet as he stalks through the room.

As soon as the man stands, everything seems to happen at once.

You saw Ghost on the military base. Heard his authoritative tone and witnessed his lightning-quick assessment of the situation, even though it had turned out to be a false alarm. But you didn’t see any of his combat skills.

It’s almost like he’s making up for it now.

He grabs the man by the back of the shirt, yanking him backwards and off his balance. A sharp “get down” from Ghost has you flopping forward onto the floor without a second thought, burying your face into the carpet as the sounds of struggle meet your ears. 

The rest is a blur. You can hear punches being thrown and curses ground from between teeth. Sharp gunshots coupled with pained cries and fading gurgles signal the end of the fight, but you still keep your head down. It isn’t until you feel a gentle hand on the back of your head that you flinch.

“Shh, it’s alright love,” Ghost’s deep voice calls. “‘S just me. It’s alright, he can’t hurt you.”

Your relief is palpable, but when you move to get up, a firm hand rests itself between your shoulder blades.

“No, no,” he says. “Can’t have ya gettin’ up on your own, sweetheart. Made a bit of a mess, I’m afraid. I’m gonna help you up and get you back into your bedroom, then I’m gonna make a quick call. I’ll let you know when it’s alright for you to come back out, okay?”

The adrenaline buzzing in your ears makes it difficult to do anything else but nod.

Ghost - or is he Simon again? You can’t tell, and it stirs a strange feeling in your stomach - helps you up, sliding a hand over your eyes before you have the chance to look up from the floor. He guides you to your bedroom, closes the door, and you hear heavier footsteps fade away, followed by muffled, one-sided conversation. You strain to hear what you can, but the details are vague.

“Price? Need a favor. I know it’s late. Need a cleanup. Someone broke in. No, not my house. Yeah… yeah. Next door. ‘S why I called. Need this done quickly and quietly. Yes sir. I’ll keep an eye out.”

The minutes tick by until you hear a vehicle pull up, followed by multiple quiet voices. You can’t make out what anyone is really saying, not between the overlapping talk and sounds of work being done, but there seems to be three voices in addition to Ghost's. After some time, you hear footsteps approach your door, followed by two quick knocks.

“Almost done, sweetheart,” Ghost says, then he retreats back to the living room. 

A little while later, the rest of the crowd leaves, and once again you hear another knock at your door. 

“Still with me, love? You can come out now. All clear.”

You hesitate, not sure how to approach the situation. Slowly, you open the door.

“...Ghost?”

“No, lovie. It’s just me. ‘S just Simon.”

Without thinking, you throw yourself into his arms, wrapping your arms around his barrel chest. 

You don’t ask him why he smells like bleach.

[spliffymae]

nobody has to know, a. ojiro

synopsis: it’s caribana season, but instead of catching the dirtiest of wines, aran is moping at his place, thinking about you.

⚠️afabreader, fwb!aran, aran post time skip, reader is caribbean, established fwbs, jealous aran, smut, mentions of phone sex, implied (un)protected sex, MINORS DNI !

kio’s notes - wishin all y’all a hot girl/boy/person summer !!!!

now playing

⊱ ──────── {.⋅ ✺ ⋅.}──────── ⊰

“y/n, you know you have to get permission before you can walk out like that.” your friend teased you once she saw your costume. it was the day of caribana, a day that shouldn’t have tasted bittersweet on your tongue, but did when you realized you wouldn’t be going with aran, your original date for the day.

you kissed your teeth as you grabbed your keys off the counter, dropping them in the side bag strapped to your waist.

“fuck permission. and fuck ojiro’s goofy ass anyways”

3 weeks earlier….

“oh my god, you’re fucking stretching me outtt.” you whine, your lips pouty with fat tears rolling down your face. you were sitting on aran’s lap, being slid down onto his hard dick as you two sat on the couch in your living room.

aran doesn’t respond just yet. he’s too busy trying to keep his composure, stopping himself from cumming before he can really enjoy you.

“aren’t you glad i answered that call, hm? got to give your spoiled ass just what you needed to feel better.” he was a deep baritone in your ear, the velvet of his durag slightly rubbing against your face when he lowered to speak to you.

“but i-it’s not what i wanted.” you let out with a huff. “you’re playing games with me right now, oji.” you were trying really hard to not be the whimpering, babbling mess he knew you were. you were trying to prove him wrong.

aran laughed, “like you weren’t playing games when you let that whack ass take you out. now be good and watch the movie.”

he was right. after all, this all started because you called him to fix a bad hookup you had with a good first date.

“it’s 2am, i thought you and whatshisface were linking.” aran was curious when your name popped up on his phone. after you told him about the date and texted him that the guy wasn’t a creep, he figured he’d hear from you in the upcoming days.

“the stroke game was nonexistent. he came from a handjob and couldn’t get it back up. i’m mad i wore this for nothing.” you were on facetime, so aran could see the annoyed look on your face; the way your brows knitted together and creased, with your eyes filled with disappointment. your brown lips were pushed out in a pout and without a second thought, you flipped your camera to show your mirror. you stood in a pink lingerie set, and the sight of you had aran’s cock twitching in his pyjama pants.“i don’t get it. i look so pretty tonight, oji. don’t i?”

the way his name fell from your mouth made his heart skip. the neediness in your tone, the yearning he could hear just from his name. how you wanted him. aran swallowed back the carnal groan that tried to creep its way out his mouth, “yeah, you look so pretty, princess.” he said with a comforting smile. he looked back up at his tv, his nba 2k23 mycareer opened with his friends spamming his chat and yelling at him to snap back to reality and back to the game. his mic was on, but he had muted them to focus on you. they, however, could hear you two.

you sighed, “can you come make me feel better? …i don’t feel pretty.” and aran hated that you let this dickhead get to you like this. how you looked in the mirror with sad eyes. he knew you shouldn’t have gone on that date. he knew you weren’t gonna be satisfied with anyone but him.

“of course, i’m comin’ right now.” he didn’t waste a secon contemplating on whether he should leave to go to you at 2am. he turned off his ps4 and hung up the call, grabbed a t-shirt, hoodie, his phone and his car keys, and was on his way to you.

2 weeks earlier…

“bro, you literally just disappeared on us last week. you know that was the only free time all of us had.” osamu pushed aran as the two stood in the starbucks line. they were meeting some friends from high school at the coffee shop to hang out. since graduation, each of them went their separate ways, focusing on achieving their respective goals. they always made time to hang out once a week though.

aran mumbled a meaningless apology, “sorry man, had to take care of something.” he wasn’t sorry. he honestly didn’t care. if he could choose between playing video games with his friends or spending a night in you, he would pick you everytime.

“something or someone. y’know one day we’re gonna have to meet this girl. it’s been going on for so long now.” samu gave aran a final look before stepping up in the line. he was next to order, watching as the girl in front of him stepped to the side.

you had looked up from your position at the cash register of your job to see two familiar faces. one being your friend osamu from volleyball camp, and aran—the man, who just last night, was moaning into his phone about how bad he needed you while he pumped his hand around his cock.

“y/n! looking radiant as ever!” osamu winked.

you flashed a smile,“thank you osamu, what can i get y’all today?”

“i’ll take a white chocolate mocha, spinach and feta egg wrap, and the truth from aran about his secret girlfriend!” the last part came out of nowhere catching both you and aran off guard. you laughed a bit, but out of pure nervousness. your heartbeat even increased.

“samu!” the young man yelled, giving osamu a slap to his shoulder.

you simply giggled, “this girl must be pretty special if you gotta keep her a secret, oji.” the nickname didn’t come out in the usual way aran was use to hearing. with your voice breathless and filled with an adoration for him. instead it was purely friendly, with a little hint of playfulness. it was different, and it made him miss the former.

“there’s no girl, samu. i ain’t find anyone worth my time, alright? aran ojiro is meant to be a free bird, so let me fly.” aran said as he walked to the other open register, eyes completely missing you as he gave a flirty smile to your coworker. and of course, she loved it. you on the other hand, found yourself to be irked.

1 week earlier…

“bro, you seriously ghosted me over something you took out of context?” aran had finally gotten the chance to be face to face with you after a week of radio silence from you. you two had both shown up to kita’s birthday party. you had come just to show face. you weren’t gonna stay—you were simply there to hand kita his gift and leave before a certain six foot wing spiker showed up.unfortunately, aran spotted you handing the present off to kita with an apologetic smile, attempting to leave before you could see him.

before you could step off the porch, aran had dragged you back into the house, disregarding the looks from guests and protests from you, and pulled you upstairs into the bathroom. he pressed you on your absence, on how you refused to pick up his calls and leave his texts on delivered.

“i’m letting you fly, what’chu mean? you’re a free bird, right?” you knitted your brows in curiosity, “i mean,” you smiled, “that’s what you said…right?”

aran pinched the bridge of his nose out of frustration. he leaned against the bathroom counter, standing in front of you, seated at the edge of the tub in front of him. “seriously? i was just saying that to get samu off my back. and even if i meant that shit, so what? we’re just fucking.”

you scoffed, “so now it’s just fucking?…don’t give me that shit, aran. you and i both know we passed ‘just fucking’ a long time ago. but you wanna go flirt with other people in front of me? like you weren’t on my phone begging for me?” you had an attitude, that was for certain.

“bro, why are you trying to make this complicated? i swore we weren’t supposed to be anything serious.” he was defensive, honestly he didn’t know why. he just didn’t like how you were coming for him.

you nodded, “right. so we can just act like we don’t care for each other.”

“i didn’t say all that. i’m just not understanding why you’re getting at me over a misunderstanding.” he honestly wasn’t looking for this. he was just hoping to get a brief explanation and maybe even a lil’ sum sum, but instead he was getting an earful. and it wasn’t an earful of your moans, the way he had hoped.

“because i like you, asshole. because you fuck me and say shit like ‘this my pussy’ or ‘i’m the only one for you’. because you take me out and shower me with affection. because you’re there whenever i need you. and you expect me to what? not feel a way? be okay with you flirting with other girls in my face?what, am i just hear to make you hard?” you raise your arms in frustration.

it was clear from his reddened eyes he had smoked, and the vodka breezer he held in his hand let you know he was lightly drinking too. you say all this because it had to be these factors that made him respond to you the way he did. with a half smirk and laugh, “what’s wrong with just making me hard?”

but you found nothing funny about this. not anything about you finally telling him how you felt was funny to you. it was a pain. a giant and irritating one that you wanted to be free of, but somehow just seemed to worsen. “you know what, you clearly don’t care so i’m not gonna either. see you around, oji.”

the nickname was in a different tone this time around. no adoration, no playfulness. you spoke it flat, with no emotion. and as you stood up and left aran in the bathroom by himself, with the last words being his name in such an emotionless voice, he couldn’t help but think he might have fucked that up.

present…

aran was sitting on his front porch, spliff in hand as he looked down at his phone. today was caribana. he was supposed to be there with you. but instead he was nursing what kita described as a ‘cracked heart’.

he was thinking about you. about how hurt you looked as you left the party. you went radio silent on him afterwards. didn’t hit him up for anything; not to link, not to fuck, not to talk...you were ojiro free—and he hated it!

“so y/n was the secret girlfriend.” osamu had come outside from the kitchen, two cold beers in his right hand.

“wasn’t a girlfriend.” aran mumbled, taking a pull from his spliff.

osamu rolled his eyes, “shut up, she might as well been. look how she got you. meanwhile where is she?” it was meant to be a rhetorical question, but aran took it literally. with his phone in his other hand he went to instagram and ironically, your story was the first in the long and seemingly endless line of instagram stories. he tapped the icon, immediately seeing a video of you posing in your costume with shensea’s shen yeng anthem coming through your phone.

osamu leaned over to see you and mindlessly whistled at your appearance. “you fumbled a serious bag, my friend.” he ignored the glare aran sent his way because he knew aran knew he was right.

“shut the hell up.” the bitter man mumbled, eyes looking back on his phone to see the next story you posted. it was you on the street, posing with people from your band as you all held up your country’s flag. aran got a better look of your costume. the way that its colors; the purple bands and silver jewel stoned garments that connect to them, brought out your rich and warm undertone the way your headpiece demanded the attention to be on you. you were all smiles with your girlfriends, and aran loved to see you happy. your smile was probably his favorite thing about you.

pissed him off he wasn’t the one making you smile like that, though.

“tsumu just texted me that he sees her.” osamu said just as the timer for your story ran out. it then went to atsumu’s who was holding his phone high up, recording not only him walking w the parade of people, but walking behind you…who was carelessly wining against his crotch to the sounds of gyal you a party animal.

osamu had just so happened to glance back at aran’s screen and his mouth instantly fell at the sight. there was his twin brother, handing his phone off to someone next to him as he flipped to the back camera. he took your hips in his hands and began to move against you making you cheer in excitement.

it was all harmless, a careless bubble he caught because he was your friend. there was nothing serious about it, and that is what made aran the most upset. to know you were okay to do that. because you weren’t his, he had no right to get mad at you just dancing with atsumu because you two are not together, that’s what he knows you’d say if he were to bring this up. but he made it his right to have, the jealousy. because who did you think you were to move against any other man the way you moved against him?

osamu wanted to laugh! because of course this would happen to aran. of course the man who was ‘too busy for love’ would find himself pining after “the one that got away”.

some time had passed and aran was now three spliffs in, a beer in hand as he sat on the beanbag in his room. some random show was playing in the back, but all his attention was on the various instagram and snap stories you posted. he would even watch the snaps of your friends just to see if he’d catch you doing anything. yeah, he was down so bad. here you were having so much fun without him. so much so that not only was he annoyed, but he finally decided to just cave and text you.

ojiro (don’t answer rn)

honestly i’m too high

but fuck it you won

i care about you

and you make me hard

so call me when you see this

[creators-lounge]

✏️ Creators' Content ✏️

This post is for anyone who is curious about our server members' content, and to share a lot of suggestions for people to check! 💕

Since Tumblr is a website that mostly depends on reblogs, everyone is welcomed to reblog to give these amazing creators a well deserved boost!

Remember to also encourage other content creators as well, you may make someone's day with a silly reblog or comment!

Note: This post might be edited depending on the members' information, comic updates, projects updates, etc, so check the original post instead of reblogs.

Note 2: This is a private server for plenty of reasons, we do not accept requests nor petitions to join, so we would be grateful if you do not put that pressure on our mods or on our members. Sorry in advance, and hope you still enjoy all of our artworks! You may check our QnA for a better explanation if you'd like, too.

v Members' Comics Section v

ALIVE by @tatatale

> First Chapter

A L I V E is not an AU as such, but a buch of characters from different AUs and timelines who decided that they'll form an AU. So it's technically an AU, but no. Enjoy.

Bovid-20 by @hansama

> First Chapter

Bovid-20 is a (very short) suspense mystery comic that tells the story of a home invasion in the middle of a lock-down. You are the main character of the story.

Bitty Problems by @theskeletongames

> First Chapter

A comic featuring bitties with Sanses, primarily focusing on Underfell Sans and his bitty

Delivery! by @anovainspace

> Comics

Three out!codes from collapsing alternative universes came together to one void, all just wanting to obtain access to the multiverse for their end goal; therefore, they created an alibi to not create suspicion for wandering around different places. Setting up a pen paling system for others to contact each other through mail and delivering said mail. 

Don't Forget by @zirkkun

> First Chapter

“Don’t forget us. We’re with you in the dark.” After years of abandonment, the Undertale multiverse has been mysteriously shrouded in darkness. there only remains one survivor by the name of Ink… but despite a faint hope from everyone who died that everything can return to normal, he’s forgotten all the pieces to restore the multiverse back to what it once was.

Flicker of a Neon Soul by @harmonytre

> First Chapter

Since the beginning of time, monsters have had colored souls. Only the royal family's soul could change color. That is, until two young skeletons find their colors.

How to greet a new pal by @theskeletongames

> First Chapter

A crossover comic with Sans falling into Underfell.

Idoltale by @nekojaf

> First Chapter

Idol and her friends go on a big multiverse adventure after a new and strange Force threatens their universes.

Impostortale by @s3-izures

> Masterpost

Armed with an obsession for masks and semi-immortality, a shapeshifter roams the multiverse in search of roles to fill, missions to complete, and shenanigans to commit.

Non-Lethal AU by @s3-izures

> Masterlist

A certain Destroyer has been found... except this one doesn't seem to be destroying anything so far. In fact, he seems like a bit of a wimp, doesn't he?

Paper Crane by @little-noko

> First Chapter

Where timelines and lives ends, in the void are countless shattered souls struggling to remain alive and come back to the living world they came from. A being without a name gather them to form a single entity, with nowhere to go, they found themselves traveling endlessly to make sense of who they are and why they are here.

Prismtale by @harmonytre

> First Chapter

Havana, Sans, Scarf Mouse, Bob, Monster Kid, Fuku Fire, and Ficus Licker are thrust into an adventure they'll never forget. Will they find a way home? How will they deal with their new powers? Who on earth is PC?

Spitetale by @nosebleed-inglishera

> First Chapter

After several genocidal routes, everyone in the Underground started to remember, causing monstersto fearing for the next time they get killed again. Will Frisk take the choice to finally save everyone and fix their mistakes?

Timetale by @allesiathehedge

> Prologue

Seven hundred years after they were sealed underground, monsterkind still hopes that they would one day return to the surface. Not only does Sans have to worry about finding a solution to destroy the barrier on behalf of the King, but he also has to face a ghost of a past that he sorely wanted to keep buried. Will Sans be able to make peace with himself, his duties, and his failed love? Only time will tell...

Underlust Reimagine by @zirkkun

> First Chapter

An Underlust AU that takes a spin on the original concept to present a thematically similar story, but with some slightly different aspects that have led some of the characters to take different roles.

Under/Source by @slylock-syl

> First Chapter

After a virus wielding hacker threatens to cause chaos throughout other universes, Necros takes it upon himself to track them down and protect anyone he can along the way.

Underwizard by @susartwork

> Prologue

Humans began hunting monsters to gain great magical powers from their souls. After a huge massacre, seven human wizards decide to seal the monsters underground with a magic spell. Hundreds of years later a human child appears, determined to free all the monsters and save them from a new threat.

Unitale by @toky502

> First Chapter

Unitale (An alternate tale) is a comic of an alternative and altered version of many other stories from other undertale au's together, is just an alternate tale more.

Various comics by @wr-n

> Masterpost

> Eldritch AU

> Dust comics

Dust Comic is a comic following the Bad Sanses as they look for a way to cure Dust of his lethal dose of Determination and LV.

Members Projects and WIPs

Blocking Sans by @samess-moon (Twitter)

Damaged tale by @6nimus9

Damaged tale is an Alternate Timeline of Undertale that takes place in a frozen post-genocide timeline where only o̸n̵e̷ ̵c̸h̷a̷r̷a̶c̵t̷e̸r̸ remains, basing its concept in how consequences can strike back.

Encantale by @codeyspace

The Human vs Monster war ended a millenium ago. Monsters trapped in the underground with hope and magic. What should've led to their extinction was instead replaced by something... enchanting.

Escort Mission by Yoki-Doki (DeviantArt)

Way before the events of Undertale, even before the war between humans and monsters, a little girl lost her way in the monster kingdom. This is the quest to help her return home.

Flowerfield AU / Ask Sunflower by @asksunflower / @tatatale

This is an ask blog about a silly guy who acts like a cat and a goat king, but is actually a skeleton. He likes flowers and tea, and sometimes things happen.

Herb by @omero-megane (Twitter)

LAU by @nixensibrat

Lonertale by @blvdcharms

Lonertale is an AU revolving around a medieval, single-most pacifist timeline where war between humans and monster is post-poned up until the main cast of characters are young adults. Follow Asriel and his friends as they go on to protect monsterkind.

Storyteller by @cursedmuii (Twitter)

“I exist based on the will of stories. I have no place to return, no name, or age, but I am called Storyteller... Come here with me, I can take you everywhere with the stories I tell… only you listen to them.”

Strays AU by @stoukadraws

“Give me your hopes and dreams, and I shall grant you true salvation.” An unknown human falls into Mt. Ebott, and begins their journey through the Underground...But something is off. Will they discover what’s truly going on behind the scenes?

Undereats by @sui-imi (Twitter)

A food delivery service that works with restaurants across the multiverse. It's run by a Gaster called Exec. They work together with - and are located in - Commercetale, an AU where trades and sales empower monster magic.

Underforgotten by @nezu-tan

Undergut by @theartist-june (Tw. Gore)

Undergut is an AU where hunger makes for desperate times. It’s not that there is no food… it’s that food could barely sustain, could barely satisfy. Magic is not enough. We need more… more…! Will you be able to survive the hunger?

UnderREM by @socksandbuttons (And @/ohlookanothercartoontofallinto)

Dreamtale with dreams and the cast of Undertale.

Underrewind by @wishingstarinajar

A comic and fanfiction/short stories are currently in the works to tell the story about Rewind, the main protagonist of this AU.

Undervalue by @6nimus9

Monsters, instead of getting trapped down by a magic barrier, are trapped directly by humans, who after winning the war started by greed have decided to take advantage of the monsters’ ability to create precious stones and gems of different values.

Wickedtale by @alch3mic (AO3) (Read Tw's.)

WICKEDTALE is a reader insert fairytale inspired Undertale AU set in the twisted Ebott City. As one of its many unfortunate inhabitants, do you have what it takes to survive in such a wretched town surrounded by secrets and misery? Well, luckily for you there seems to be a certain skeleton in your life who will go to any lengths to assure your happy ending together.

Great artist you should check anyway!!

@bloowe-blu - @lazzlady - @minaruzi- @normalayasstuff - @sanssupremacy - @shenzcorner

Other fandoms content!

@galaxii-star (Multifandom) - RazzyPossum (FNAF) - @jadenskyfare

[mi-i-zori]

Among the Ice of Her Thoughts

CoD Viking!AU (Not Mine) - Viking!Soap x Healer!Reader

DISCLAIMER : Just a little something I wrote a while ago for @ghouljams ‘ Viking!AU. I just recently tweaked it a little. Healer!Reader is Ghoul’s character, not mine. I will write something for my own Viking!AU, but it will of course be very different from theirs. Please go check their work, it’s absolutely amazing !

WARNINGS : None.

I do not give anyone permission to re-publish and/or translate my work, be it here or on any other platform.

When she finally comes back from the realm of dreams, Dag’s chariot is already high in the sky, and the sun is peaking through the fabrics of her tent.

She finds tearing her limbs from their lethargic state to be no easy task. Her muscles are begging for a few more minutes of rest ; hours, even. They pull and wail along with her every move, the creaking of her joints echoing within their walls. She could indulge them - the Gods know how many times she decided to follow her needs, going back to sleep when she was supposed to start her day. But she is not tired enough to succumb to sleep anymore ; especially not when a choir of unfamiliar voices echo from the outside of the so-called « sanctuary » she was given a few hours earlier. To her, this assortment of fabrics and furs is no safe haven, especially not when she jumps so violently every time they start dancing with the wind. Still, she is in no position to complain : not only was she given permission to use this tent as hers even though it originally belongs to the one who brought her here, but the warriors roaming the campsite also respect the boundaries this shelter was made to provide, allowing her to hide from their curious eyes.

A part of her wishes she could stay under the covers and ignore her surroundings, act as if this is was nothing more than a dream. Yet she forces herself out of their warmth, the morning breeze leaving a trail of shivering kisses along her skin.

She barely has the time to put her heavy coat on that the sun suddenly sculpts a broad silhouette on the outside of the furs. It moves silently, with the confidence of a warrior, and her whole body tenses as the man stops before the entrance of her tent. He hovers for a second as she stands frozen in place, her breathing so low even she can barely feel it in her chest.

- Vænn ? You awake ?

It’s MacTavish, she realises, his deep timbre sending a wave of warmth down her spine ; a stark contrast to the violent shivers the sound of the nickname he gave her send crawling down her spine. Despite knowing that he is unable to see her, she can’t bring herself to move. Swallowing the knot tightening in her throat, she graces him with a hum, although it comes out much weaker than she originally intended.

- ‘Am about to go gather some wood. Wanna come with me ?

His tone is low, careful ; not unlike the kind one would use to coax a terrified little creature out of its shell. She can’t really decide if she likes the idea or not. In her eyes, this behaviour of his is way too human for a man like him, cursing the flame that sways in her chest at the prospect of accepting his offer. Her satchel lies against the wooden post standing in the middle of the tent, it’s empty stomach catching her gaze. It could be a good opportunity to gather some herbs for her decoctions, she thinks, and the rational part of her soul lights up at the idea of potentially being useful to her captors. MacTavish’s words from the day before echo in her mind.

Say yes next time someone asks if you’re a healer. You’ll live longer.

- Give me a minute, she finally says, the words grating against her tongue. Please.

- Gotcha. I’ll be waiting for you near the campfire.

It’s only when his shadow disappears that the tension finally lets go of her chest. One of her hands glides along her face, a sigh escaping through her fingers. The bed is neatly made before she covers herself in warm furs and sturdy leathers. She then takes a deep breath as she opens the entrance of the tent, rolling her shoulders to ease the stiffness in her muscles. The tremors seizing her body are not from the midgardian frost waiting for her outside ; but she decides to play pretend, holding her head high as she steps in the fresh morning snow. Sól greets her with a wintery kiss on her cheek, highlighting MacTavish’s figure in the distance. She marches towards him, forcing herself to ignore the curious stares of his companions.

Vænn. A catch. A prey. That is what she is in the eyes of those who see themselves as a pack of wolves, their fur covered in blood as they take whatever they want, destroying those who refuse to yield : nothing but a frail creature meant to follow their every word in order to stay alive. Soap has made his intentions of courting her clear, promising that no harm shall befall her while she lives among his peers ; but as he greets her with a smile, guiding her towards the forest with a hand on her back, she knows she cannot allow herself to be afraid. One wrong move, and she shall become nothing more than a meal to be shared in their den.

A frozen blade pierces her core as these thoughts dance in the back of her mind. The forest is peaceful, and they slowly carve their own path through its shimmering white coat. Her gaze roams her surroundings as MacTavish starts gathering a thick bundle of branches under his arm, looking for a patch of herbs to collect. Their eyes meet, causing him to send a smile in her direction before resuming his own search. The snow crunches heavily under his boots. Her attention flickers to the blade hanging from his hips, the iron of its handle glinting in the sun. She frowns as her mother’s voice echoes through her memories.

You are not safe, she says, and she can almost see her spectre glare at the warrior’s silhouette walking ahead of her.

You are not safe.

[butchkelev]

Every time a trans butch gets dysphoric an angel dies 💔❤️‍🩹

Still miserable at captions as you can see… ah! This is my top surgery fun_d post but nsft ;) I have the original up on @butch4maryoliver if you’re curious, but I wanted to keep that sfw and open the sexual conversation up here.

A large part of my fluctuating sex repulsion comes from my extreme dysphoria I’ve felt ever since puberty. I refused to kiss or cuddle or think about getting romantically or sexually close with anyone because I believed nobody could treat my body right with all of my shame and insecurities. After graduating from high school and going on a destructive sexual spree with a bunch of older cis men who saw me as nothing more than a fetish, I took a (very difficult) step back and realized I needed a sexual revolution within myself. It’s taken me a while to let go of a lot of junk I held onto, and I’m still very much a work-in-progress, but now I’m looking forward to realizing sexual liberation in my own life, and that cannot come without gender affirming care. I long to be free to wear (and feel) whatever clothes I want, to express myself with others in sexual productions, to have one less glaring fear against intimacy, both physical and mental.

I wrote a lot more in my gfm bio if you’d like to read up on my financial and living situation and a bit more of my history. If you love my curvy trans body and want to see more of me—especially outside of plain cropped photos— the way to go is through helping me get this surgery :) I honestly love sw when I’m not sex repulsed and dysphoric and insecure, it’s been such an incredible way to express myself, but it’s been awful feeling so limited and scared. Help me out and I’ll give you a video or audio treat of about 1.5-3 minutes!! Anything you want, specially made for you and your commands ❤️‍🩹 I also used c/a, $boyohboy8 ;) Thank you forever!!!!!

[charmedreincarnation]

Hi charm. Your posts have helped me lots! Im keeping consistent for once and understand the law and shifting properly. My question is that I’ve been trying to considerate my understanding and application of states and A+P. This sounds stupid but I go back and forth and try to apply them, but the debates about them don’t make sense to me. I think rn I reinstate more with states but some I do prefer to just affirm and I’m just curious on which one you “preferred” and how you applied that to shifting. Thanks 😊

I think it really does depend. I love the law of consciousness, and under that really anything goes. But for me personally, I really do think there’s a point of no return when it comes to A and P and states. Just in my experience, feel free to believe and do what you like. First and foremost, your beliefs are more important in your reality. But I feel like everyone says that so often. If you don’t understand that, it's not really my job to coddle anyone at this point 😭😭 everyone is their own god and that’s the most important thing to understand.

But I started my journey back in 2020 when I was 16, and I manifested so much with mirror work and affirmations because I didn’t know about the law, and honestly I barely knew anything about manifesting either. I was only a shifter. And all my shifting friends, not on Tumblr, who shifted pretty easily and I consider "master shifters" (not that it exists or matters), honestly didn’t get into LOA either. They just affirmed (but used LOA, by knowing they’d wake up in their desired reality without knowing). Ever since then, they don’t gripe in the community because sometimes ignorance rlly is bliss. If I was in 2020 and stuck with that, I would have gotten everything so easily. But looking back, somethings happen for a reason because the desires and drs I wanted at 16 are nothing like the life/drs I want and have right now. I’m so grateful I struggled for a bit; it was a blessing in disguise 😭😭😭.

Around that time, I hated LOA because I talked about this in a different ask, but my favorite master shifter on Reddit (I’m an OG Reddit girl) who brought LOA to Reddit eventually left because she claimed she thought she was mentally ill, and shifting is psychosis. So I hated Neville and LOA for a while, which is so funny, because what did he do? I also didn’t like states because none of my shifting friends knew about that, and all shifting was just knowing and affirming. I wanted to do that too, not live in my head or whatever I understood states as.

I obviously eventually learned about LOA properly and learned so much about the "mechanics" and origins and over-consumed, just like a lot of you guys. When I tried to go back to A+P, I struggled so much because I really did believe in states. I thought about my horrible childhood, but how I got through it was knowing and believing in magic and my eternal happiness. From ages 9-14, I was a very happy and lucky child despite my circumstances and depression, because I was in the state of someone who had it all. I always knew life was more than what we can see with our eyes, so really, I knew A+P wasn’t really what was working, it was my state. But I refused to admit that for a while and got mad when my affirmations stopped working (that’s what I mean by point of no return).

Also, my shifting friends are using states, and when I started asking them about it, they started talking learned about their methods and how they suceeed easily. Most of them used some variation of SATS without knowing and music to fulfill their inner man and know that, regardless, they’ll wake up in their desired reality. So I started doing the same, and that’s how I manifested my first shift.

But everyone is so different. Like look at all the success stories. Some people just use science and logic with lucid dreaming steps. A lot of people in LOA now didn’t even use LOA to manifest at first or get into the void or whatever. Some people shift without knowing or by accident, etc., etc. The point is understanding states helped me because that’s the type of person I am; I like knowing the mechanics behind the seemingly magic. But maybe you don’t, maybe you don’t care about states, you know they’re behind everything but don’t care. That’s all good too. I don’t care how anyone achieves or understands the law to get their dream life, as long as they’re not spreading misinformation. The law is about you and understanding what fulfills you; you don’t need to follow debates to fulfill yourself.

A lot of people feel very strongly about their beliefs because it’s what helped them achieve their dream life, so they’ll die on hills for it. And I honestly get it; that’s how you feel about shifting. So I really don’t like when people try to dunk on it or like "debunk it." And that’s how everyone feels for their beliefs; it’s the human in us, we feel strongly about our passions. But don’t let people make you feel bad about your beliefs. Sometimes Tumblr can get like middle school-esque with the labels and drama, but again, it’s a good reminder that no matter how godly you are, we still have our human shell, and that’s oddly comfortable to me so I don���t care that much tbh. Just do you girl, at the end of the day it’s your happiness that matters

[luveternals]

paring: 4. simon 'ghost' riley x artist male reader. cw: introvert reader with low self-esteem, there's a waiter whose love language is food, ghost has selective mutism(tell me if I got anything wrong), swearing, the seafront location was originally inspired by Naples' Lungomare, Italy. <- posto da visitare assolutamente, guys. a/n: bam! they thought I was gone, but I ain't. Lol guess whose first language isn't English. anyway, new posts' schedule: still to be decided (check the my pinned post). ~ ~ ~

You've seen this trend around for a while and decide worse case scenario people get offended, call you a creep, and you won’t be able to show your face to the public ever again.

What could possibly go wrong?

Put on the brave face, man, you tell yourself taking in a fortifying breath. It’s not that they don’t know how much of a loser you already are.

Not wanting to be the stalking weirdo on the train or subway, you choose a nearby café. They know you here, at least. Though, you can’t decide if it’s for the better or worse.

The waiter is already setting up a tray on the counter when you open the door, and from the cheeky little wink he gives you, you know it’s for you. Noah knows your goto morning food and drink, though you never told him. He found out all on his own — honestly, you don’t even recall having a favorite to begin with.

“There he is,” he says and pushes the tray towards you when you stop at the counter, “precious little artist. Punctual as ever.”

You try to smile, but it pulls at your lips and you know it looks nothing but awkward. “How do you know I might change my order today?”

“Are you going to?”

You shrug.

“Thought so.” He pokes at the tray and points at your table, set way at the back of the café. “Now, this better not go cold, hmm,” he leans forward and squints at you, “I mean it.”

You huff at him and turn away with the tray in hand. “Whatever, mom.”

“Oh!” you hear him gasp offended, “kids these days.”

Idiot.

One thing is certain, being a loyal customer of theirs has its little perks. One being your usual table has an unspoken reservation on it. Every time you come here, it’s there for you. The fact that people don’t usually sit this far from the counter unless there’s no other option is an appreciated bonus. You place the tray on the table, set your bag on the empty chair next to yourself, and finally take a seat.

Unsure of how to start, you pick Noah as the first subject of your little experiment. He’s been nagging you about making a portrait of him for ages now, so you know for a fact he’s not going to mind.

You start your sketch with his beaming face. A circle for the shape of the head. A downward line at the center to keep everything spaced correctly. Find the position of eyes and nose. Shape of the face. Erase the lines you don’t need anymore.

You brush off the little eraser crumbs away and raise your head to check his face again. He’s turned away though, and your attention slides to the customer in front of him waiting for his turn.

He’s a hulking figure, dark wear and face mask covering mouth and nose. You’ve never seen him around before.

Noah's café is small and cozy, tucked away in a little corner. Tourists don’t really pick this as their first choice.

You move to draw on an empty part of the page.

-

“Oh ho! Looky here.”

You jerk and almost fall off the chair at the sudden presence peering over your shoulder. "Jesus, fu— what the hell is wrong with you?”

He steals the sketchbook and flips through the pages. “Love struck, aren’t we?” he snickers, inspecting the lastest drawings you’ve added to your collection.

You snatch the book back and fight the urge to check if anyone heard. “I thought I told you not to touch without permission.”

“I’m sorry,” he says and raises his hands before him, “I just… it’s been a while since I saw you draw so passionately, and I got curious. thought you lost your muse.” He glances down at the sketchbook and gives you a playful grin, “I guess you found a new one?”

-

“It’s been an eternity, are you ever going to talk to him?” Mr I-don’t-know-how-to-mind-my-own-business sets a second pastry you never ordered beside your empty plate and lean over to look at your current drawing.

“Can you, like, leave me alone?”

“You’re an artist,” he says with the flattest tone, “without me, who would keep you fed and hydrated and alive, you?”

You purse your lips and raise your chin to stare up at him. How dare he? You don’t need no one’s help to take care of yourself, thank you very much. It’s not like you forget time passes when you're drawing and end up with only breakfast in your belly all day. it happened, sure. Still.

“You know what, you’re being a real pain right now,” you say and stand intending to leave the café and head to the park or something.

Of course, your action is too abrupt and you end up bumping into someone who was making their way to a table near yours. And catastrophe happens.

When you turn, you realize the person you knocked into is the man you’ve been drawing these last days. Even worse, his eyes are locked onto your open sketchbook right on the spread littered with portraits and drawings of him.

Fuck.

Here comes the part where he thinks you're a weirdo and leaves the café with the intention of never coming back.

“Oh, hello!” Noah says and wiggles his fingers at the man with an overly cheery expression. “My friend here was just about to come and talk to you about these,” he says, gathering your drawings and shoving them into your arms, “he’s a little shy, so he needed a little push,” he adds, then shoves you towards the other man.

You stumble but recover quickly, and when you turn to glare at your friend he simply sends you a wink and mouths ‘don’t be a loser and ask him out’.

“He’s not even being subtle at it.” You don’t expect the man to talk to you at all, or to stay after that to begin with. There’s amusement in his voice and when you meet his gaze, you find a soft look in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you say, breathless. From this close up, his eye color catches your attention and you have to refrain yourself from leaning closer and finding out how it is that it seems to change from hazel-brown to blue and back. “Yeah,” you say again and drop your attention back to your things to stop yourself from staring, “he’s an idiot. But he's a good friend despite it all. He pretty much keeps me alive by shoving food into my face.”

-

Talking to Simon is not as awkward as you'd told yourself it'd be. He doesn’t judge you for all the drawings you did of him and instead compliments you on your skill. He does tease you, though.

“If I knew I was being stared at for so long I would have posed.”

“Shut up.”

“Need a model? I could do naked as well if you want.”

“Ugh.”

His laugh is contagious and you're helpless, so the teasing doesn’t stop.

-

Friendship with him is not the same as with Noah.

The waiter is a beaming ball of life, open and bold and buzzing with energy. You love him but, sometimes, spending time with him is quite exhausting. 

Simon on the other hand, he knows silence. 

He sits at your table, book in one hand and tea in the other, enjoying the simple company that is your presence despite not having said a word since the simple greeting you shared this morning.

Noah gives you a thumbs up from over Simon's shoulder.

-

“Why don't you just use a normal pencil for sketching?”

You peer up at him, hunched over the page. He's not even looking st you, but you know he's waiting for answer, curious and with real interest.

The first time he asked you a question, you've fumbled with your words unsure if he cared at all and if you'd scared him of with your chatter. Words aren't for you, but the longer you talk about the same thing on and on, you figure he doesn't mind and didn't ask just to have some awkward small talk. And so you blabber on about how it makes it easier to distinguish the first quick sketch with a color and the details you've added later with another.

He's eyes are pinned on you now, and you find you don't really mind being stared at like you thought you would.

-

“Ask him out.”

You haven’t even reached the counter and Noah is already at it. “Can you not?”

“Precious, I can see the love struck dreamy smile you give him from a mile away,” he says, adding a second steaming cup to your tray. “Introvert doesn’t mean allergic to people. You’re not the complete failure at socializing you imagine yourself being.” He pushes the tray towards you and leans against the counter. “youst case scenario, if he says 'no' I’ll go with you.”

You grimace. And then wide the look off your face when you register your reaction. “I mean— it's not that I don’t like you, it’s just that—”

“Wow, man. Wow,” he scoffs, “this is worse than when you left the sketch of my face half done.”

Oh, fuck. You forgot about that one?

“Whatever, man,” he says with a roll of his eyes, his lips twitch at the corners. “If he does say 'no', I'll buy you that kit you’ve been swooning over for the past month. Best quality color and all that.” He waves at you to move along, only to pull your tray closer to himself again and popping a tiny little pastry right in the middle. Then sends you off to your doom.

-

“I've been thinking,” you blurt out in response to his ‘mornin’’.

Simon pauses right about to take a seat, raises an eyebrow and finally settles down. “Have you, now?”

“Yeah,” you say and tap the end of your pencil against the table. “Yeah. Do you like the park? No, wait. Do you like going to the park with me— would you…” You take in a breath and raise your gaze to the ceiling, “really, now?”

After a long moment, you shift your attention back to him ready to try again. His eyes are shining, little wrinkles decorating the corner of his eyes.

The mask covers it, but you know for a fact that he's smiling.

You feel your cheeks going warmer and you have to fight the urge to backtrack and hide behind your sketchbook. “Do you wanna,” you say, “go to the park with me?”

-

It's an oddity to find him already seated, no tea in sight either. From the look Noah gives you, after a month of simon coming in every day, this is a novelty for him as well.

You bring your tray to the table and sit beside him without a comment, only a simple greeting and a gentle smile. You set a cup of tea before him, alongside one of the sweets Noah refused to take back when you told him it was probably too much food. He actually looked offended by the comment.

“It’s double the stuff he usually gives me, Simon,” you say when he tries to have you keep it, “just eat it. Or better, help me finish it all, I beg you.”

He stares at the food for a long moment, then visibly gives up on convincing you. He doesn't touch it though.

The tea goes ignored as well.

You purse your lips. Well, that won’t do.

“Say,” you start and tilt your head to catch his gaze, “do you wanna go out for a walk? There’s a place I wanted to show you.”

He watches your face, then shifts his attention around the café, on Noah and finally on the food he left untouched.

“I'll have Noah put everything in a bag. I know he won't mind.”

He hesitates, but nods.

You smile at him and beam when the gesture seems to lessen the tension on his shoulders.

You bring him to a local bookstore. Like with the café, this is a little business famous mostly in the neighborhood. It’s never overly crowded but there’s always a kid or two binging their current read.

You leave him to scan the shelves and move to do the same not far.

Hah! They’ve finally restocked the stationary corner. Hooray! You definitely don’t need another journal, but no one can stop you from staring at them with gut wrenching despair.

Would Simon like it if I bought him one?

At the thought you turn to search for him and find him already making his way to you with a new book in hand.

You've got the membership card here so you manage to convince him to let you pay. Both for his book and the journal you're holding.

-

You don’t know many places to visit, but those you are familiar with are the best for those who don’t care for ‘crowded’.

The seafront isn’t one of them but you hope the view will make up for it.

It’s a risky move, but you think you’ve grown close to him enough to know he's quite comfortable with being by himself, but sometimes silence isn't what he wants or needs.

Noah told you you’re a pretty good observant and that analyzing the world around you is what makes you an artist. So you hope he wasn’t making that up.

There's a little corner towards the end. Here the view is partially covered but when you check his face, you're glad to discover he doesn't seem to mind at all. He hasn't said a word at all since you met this morning, but his attention has been pinned on you all day even after the nonsense rant you've gone on about AI art. 

You pull out a thermos from the café’s cute, little bag and hand it to him like an hesitant offering. His tea has been kept safe and warm inside all morning, but you don't know if he'll accept it after earlier. 

His eyes soften and he takes the thermos with the same care you've handled it with, and holds it in both hands like he wants to keep it safe.

A spark of hope warms your insides, so you take out two pastries and hand one to him. "He's going to make me eat more tomorrow," you say and take a bite, as if to show him Noah does know how to bake — oh, yep, he really does. God. "And you haven't had breakfast yet. Please?"

It takes a moment, but eventually, he turns away from any unwanted gaze, moves his face mask out of the way, and brings the food to his mouth to take a bite.

It slow, delibeate and so very careful, but he's eating, and now you finally understand. How Noah cares so much about keeping you fed. 

~ ~ ~ a/n: I'm not entirely sure if I got it right. Here's what I was thinking: noah is there to keep the reader from neglecting himself; ghost is a new face at the café and with a little push they become friends; reader starts taking care of ghost end consequently takes care of himself. comment, reblog and/or follow. yadda, yadda, yadda, this blog feeds off feedback or it'll go boom! don't just like please...

[hey-august]

Hi hii

Do you also write angst?

If so...I'm genuinely curious on what's your take if Buggy's partner was severely injured and in the verge of death in his arms.

Don't mind me,,just craving a freshly baked Buggy angst 🤡

-soupsprout

Ahhhh, sorry this took a bit!

I love angst, but I've only ever written relationship-angst. Like poor communication skills or intense self-loathing.

This was a fun one to try! Fun and painful! I kinda hurt now! 🥲 I hope it hits the spot for you, @soupsprout

The ending is ambiguous and there isn't comfort because I like the pain, but I have an idea for an uplifting ending and one for a painful ending. LMK if you're interested in hearing about either 😉

Edit: Sad ending here

WC: ~900 Warnings: NSFW - grievous injury & blood, Buggy x GN!reader, established relationship, angst no comfort

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Injuries are inevitable during a fight, and this was a fucking ambush. The crew was bound to collect new wounds and scars when they started at a disadvantage. But when shit hits the fan, they’re relentless. This time, that was a bad fucking trait.

As the din diminished and the ship drifted into eerie post-battle quiet, Buggy found you sitting against a wall. The crewmates you fought alongside were also in various states of reprieve. Leaning on crates, crouching on the ground, some even laying down as they caught their breaths. But none of them were sitting in a growing puddle of blood. None of them looked as ashen as you did. The sticky red hand squeezing your leg told the story.

Ripping his bandana off his head, Buggy sprinted over to you and kneeled on the dirty ground. He peeled your hand back, exposing the gash. This was real bad. The placement was bad. The depth was bad. He could see the surge of blood come and go, following your heartbeats. Biting the hem of his bandana, Buggy tore it into strips and wound them just above the wound. Tight but not too tight - he remembered that much.

You winced as he tied a knot and tried to push his hands away. Adrenaline dulled the pain from the original wound, but all this extra shit was too much.

“Stop,” you whined, smearing blood from your hand to his wrist. 

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry. Just a little more, okay?”

“Don’t, Buggy…it hurts enough, just leave it.” 

“Fuck, no! Listen, we need to stop the bleeding. I have to…” 

Buggy didn’t know how to tell you that he needed to pack the wound and it was not going to be pleasant. It had been years since he had to dress a wound like this. He didn’t have to do this for himself since eating the goddamn Devil Fruit and his crew had a doctor to tend to the others. Right, a doctor!

Dragging the closest crew member over by the collar of their shirt, Buggy started shouting, “YOU! Go get the doctor, get a medic, fuck - just go get someone! Get fucking Mohji!”

The pirate scrambled to their feet and yanked another mate up to join him in a search for help.

“Mohji?” you repeated with a soft laugh.

“He can help. He takes care of Richie, maybe he knows-”

“I’m not a lion, Buggy. It’s not the same.” 

Your over-dramatic condescending tone could have fooled the pirate into believing you were okay if your voice didn’t shake. If you weren’t talking more with your eyes shut than open. If you hadn’t lost enough blood that it was seeping into the knees of his pants.

“I dunno, you’re as annoying as Richie.” 

You smiled but didn’t respond. 

Buggy glanced around the room, which was nearly empty. The only ones left were the ambushers who didn’t survive and anyone who couldn’t run through the ship. No one had come back with any fucking help, though. 

“Hey, keep your eyes open,” Buggy said, squeezing your cheeks. 

You did what he asked, but it took a few tries. Your eyes fluttered shut more than once before you succeeded in keeping them open.

“M’tired, Buggy,” you said in a low voice. A sad voice. A scared voice.

“You can sleep later. I’ll even let you sleep on my side of the bed, okay? Just stay awake for now. Captain’s orders!”

Another smile, softer than the last one. Even Buggy could hear the desperation cracking in his throat.

“I have to do one more thing to stop the bleeding, alright? It’ll hurt and then you’ll feel better. Take a deep breath for me, okay? You can do that?”

You nodded and inhaled. It was slow and stuttering as you tried to take in as much air as you could. Buggy waited until you were too focused on breathing before jamming a wad of torn fabric into the leaking wound. He winced as you let out a loud groan and your whole body stiffened in pain.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m all done. You did so good.” 

Buggy rushed to comfort you, pressing kisses to your forehead and wiping away the tears falling from your eyes with the back of his hands. Blood didn’t make him nauseous, but the sight of his palms stained red with yours did. Nauseous and nervous.

Your eyes were closed again. He asked you to open them. He asked again. They cracked open just a little. Enough to make him feel better and feel worse.

“Hey, what do you call a lion at the South Pole?”

“What?” Your head tilted and your brows tightened. You were thinking.

Buggy watched your lips move slowly as you repeated his question.

You opened your eyes a little wider and looked at him with as much confusion as you could muster. You shook your head slightly. 

“Oh, you don’t know?” he teased with a big grin. A fake smile to keep you distracted. “Keep thinking about it. If you just can’t figure it out, I’ll tell you when you get better. Alright?”

You mouthed an affirmative response, but didn’t make a sound.

“So it’s a deal? You’ll get better and then I’ll tell you the answer. You gotta get better, though, okay?” 

Buggy grabbed your hands, hoping you couldn’t feel how he was shaking. He wished he couldn’t feel how cold you were.

You nodded and closed your eyes to think.

[emmaloo21butwriting]

Fallen for Hook’s Girl

Peter Pan x Reader; Yandere Character | Hook x ((adopted)) Daughter Reader

Season Spoiler; Has to do nothing with anything in the show except characters, and Wendy being in a cage

Warnings; Yandere, Lying, Acting, Rum(reader does not drink it), Hook being ‘fatherly’, Hook drunk, Pan crying, Wendy, you don’t love Peter yet

italics are flashbacks

Other; Long ((for me lol)) and written out of a dumb spark of imagination that became this abomination, second part?? Maybe if it gets famous or I really want to continue, it’s kind of fever Dream ish. I POSTED THIS ON THE WRONG BLOG, I JUST NOTICED, I posted it like a week ago too. Also, this terrifies me, I don’t know if I should post it. To see original post go to emmaloo21

Hook ended up back on Neverland, with a young girl. Pan was always intrigued by her.

“Y/n, you’re going to be a little spy, and get us Pan’s heart,” Hook said, he was drunk, everyone was, except her, “Rum?”

“I’m alright, drink some water,” she said, “I’ll be in bed.”

“Goodnight, love,” He grabbed her by the waist and kissed her head.

He thought of her as a daughter, he always had. Milah was the reason she ever was able to stay with him. So she was their daughter, to him.

“Wake up,” Hook said, Y/n opened her eyes.

“Hmm?”

“You’re going to find camp, alright? The lost boys, when you do, you find Pan and sob and cry like I kicked you off the ship. Capture his heart, and you come back to me,” he smiled, “With his heart, you’ll get everything you want. You’ll get to be a princess.”

“That’s it? Simple..” she sat up.

“I love you, sweetheart,” Hook hugged her.

“I love you, papa,” she laughed, “now, I gotta go.”

Hook knew she was a good actor, she tricked anyone, that was something he adored about her.

•

Y/n found the camp, no one there, but logs and an unlit bonfire.

“Hello,” Pan appeared, “You’re Hook’s girl, yes?”

Y/n turned to face him, “Not anymore,” she grumbled, trying to ‘not cry.’

“What?” Pan was confused, he had seen there bond, inseparable, he believed her.

“He.. he..” she whimpered, tears now falling.

“Hey, it’s okay, follow me,” he said, she did, grabbing his hand.

“Oh.”

“I can let go, I just-“

“No, it’s okay,” it was so obvious he liked her.

He was vulnerable, she was curious as to why.

Felix and Pan sat together, Pan trying not to cry and crumble in front of his second. He was sure Wendy loved him, and then she shattered his heart and he locked her away in the cage. He cried as he told Felix, who was there to comfort. And that was merely an hour ago. Pam trying to heal his heartbreak.

He healed it by falling in love with her, so fast. She did not understand but it happened.

“This is my cabin, come in,” he brought her inside, she sat on the couch, still crying.

He was not going to let her leave, that was for sure. The door shut by itself.

“Do you want cocoa?” He questioned, it was cold in Neverland, being it was early in the morning.

“Please,” she whined, he brought her a mug, she took it with shaky hands.

“Let me get you a blanket, love,” Pan kissed her head, she smiled slightly, still crying.

He came back, wrapping it around her, holding her.

“Why’d Hook leave you?” He asked, she leaned into him.

“He..” she started sobbing again.

“It’s okay, it’s okay..” Pan said, “Don’t cry, please, it hurts me.”

He wiped her tears with his thumbs, she sighed.

[spirithunter]

Fan-translation Plagiarism for DM Vol.1

I've noticed similarities between a Death Mark manga translation that is currently being worked on by @lamentations-lighthouse (aris on Discord) and a translation done by @kasmis, posted on Tumblr in 2022.

Enough similarities that I suspect kasmis' existing translation has been lifted directly in parts of their translation. I spoke with kasmis about it and she’s aware of the situation and shared some more info from her side.

You can view kasmis' original translation here. On the first page, you can see the disclaimer about working with an existing scanlation group with plans to publicly list the final version on an ad-free manga sharing site (added once she was made aware of the situation). I won’t go over all similarities, but this second translation in question is available on a public Discord and can be compared there. I wanted to point out three instances that I think are particularly noticeable, but I encourage anyone who is curious to look for themselves.

Pictures & Evidence under the cut.

1st comparison: translation notes

The translation notes shared between the two versions regarding the way characters speak is similar both in content and flow. They also both come at the end of Chapter 2.

kasmis' translation:

other translation:

I think this is also worth mentioning considering a comment made by lamentations-lighthouse in their Discord where they make a very blatant error determining who is speaking during a panel in a Vol 2 extra, when they spent an entire translator’s note going over how the characters talk. They incorrectly assume Banshee is the speaker, when it’s obvious with a working knowledge of Japanese that the speaker is female and likely Yasuoka, the only woman in the panel (again, aris is lamentations-lighthouse, Kiu is the current editor who is not on Tumblr):

2nd comparison: "guess we're in the same boat"

One of the lines from Chapter 2 is lifted directly from kasmis' translation. This isn't a matter of translating the same material and coming to a similar conclusion, as the original Japanese line is completely different.

In the bottom left corner, Mashita uses the expression "腹をくくる" when talking about the Mark. His line (very) literally translated would be something like "Looks like I should prepare for the worst, too"

kasmis has gone on record with me saying she took some creative liberty when translating this bubble, using it as a callback to a line of his from the actual game (the scene from the car ride back to the mansion where they're having this same conversation). Additionally, she was very clear in stating this change was purposefully made to act as an indicator of if someone was using her translation without her permission, as a translation not referencing hers would likely translate it differently. In her words: it’s a phrase that doesn’t get spit out neatly when put through machine translation, but also is easily understandable to anyone using a dictionary for reference. The term for “being in the same boat” as someone is entirely different (一連托生) and is not a logical conclusion when going solely based off the text. Here is a link to the site in the second screenshot showing an explanation of this phrase by native Japanese speakers offering English advice. The phrase has the same translation when entered into a Japanese dictionary as well.

kasmis initially didn't translate the line such a way either. Here is a comparison from her first draft (which was copy-pasted from her individual chapter translations she did back in early 2021) and the eventual change later that same year. The part in question is underlined:

Here's the comparison between the most recent version of her translation and the other translation:

Even if this group were employing a similar strategy, the chances of the "indicator" line being exactly the same is hard to believe.

3rd comparison: XX/XX/199X

This observation is somewhat minor, but the date format used throughout Chapter 2 is the exact same one used by kasmis in her translation, just with the order switched around. In the raws, the dates are written as "O (Month) X (Day)," aka censored placeholders for month and day, with no mention of the year. kasmis stated she decided to use the 199X/XX/XX format to better relay some of the info from the game (the year 199X being mentioned in the diary seen after the final confrontation). While this team may be doing the same, it's odd how it's exactly the same.

Raws for comparison:

kasmis' translation:

other translation:

Public Bashing of kasmis and Proof of Knowledge of Her Translation

kasmis was contacted by @buffaloborgine about using her translation in their project, but she stated she was working with a separate group and that she did not give them permission to use any of her translation in their own project. This user is currently working on a translation of Volume 2 of the manga. For transparency, in the 3 day gap between messages seen below, buffaloborgine joined lamentations-lighthouse and Kiu’s group, so the relationship was not established initially. buffaloborgine did not disclose however they were collaborating/in contact with lamentations-lighthouse, when in fact both are now moderators in the discord where the new translation is being uploaded. kasmis followed up with buffaloborgine once she was made aware of this connection. Below are her initial answer to the offer (note dates) and the follow-up messages (screenshots taken on 4/24):

buffaloborgine discussed their conversation in the Discord server (screenshots taken on 4/24):

They later followed up complaining about kasmis’ reply publicly in the Discord while omitting similar relevant details (screenshots taken on 4/24):

Again, note that kasmis’ reply was only 3 days after this initial explanation, not 1-2 weeks as they originally stated. Though this gap doesn't really need an explanation in my opinion, kasmis agreed to allow me to share that she was in fact in preparation for a medical procedure and was not available to answer messages at the time. She sent her follow up message regarding lamentations-lighthouse's translation because I informed her of buffaloborgine's presence in the Discord server.

The messages from buffaloborgine to kasmis also appear to show the team had direct knowledge of her existing translation, as the editor in question is Kiu. At no point did any individual besides buffaloborgine reach out to her about potentially collaborating or using her translation in any way. aris/lamentations-lighthouse claimed to have no knowledge of the translation and similarly shamed kasmis in their public (reiterating this fact) Discord, where all of these messages are available to anyone who joins (screenshot taken on 4/24):

For this reason kasmis decided not to reach out to lamentations-lighthouse directly as they already publicly denied knowing anything about her translation.

I think it’s also worth pointing out, since the SH Reddit has been mentioned, that kasmis shared her translation there as well last year. The comment can be found here. As a relatively inactive subreddit, this post and her comment are not hard to find.

If anyone mentioned in this post wants to go on record in response, something as simple as posting the version history from their working draft (as seen in kasmis’ Google Docs screenshots, for example) to show that they aren't simply modifying her existing translation could help clear up any confusion. lamentations-lighthouse stated in the Discord that they use Google Docs to communicate with their editor, so showing their process should be fairly simple (screenshot taken on 4/23):

Disclaimer: kasmis and I are friends and she provided input and helped write parts of this post. This post is not meant to be an outright accusation, nor is it implying that lamentations-lighthouse’s translation is a one-to-one copy of kasmis’. I wanted to draw attention to the similarities between the two translations, kasmis’ experience, and the available information we have. All screenshots and images shared here are unedited besides cropping, redacting the information from third parties, and marking relevant points. Time stamps marked as “today” have the associated date attached to them in the description. The relevant Discord server is publicly available at the time of posting and all conversations screenshotted are available in public channels.