#i wish i had the ability to try to draw this

[theethoslab]

In Skizz’s episode 8, Etho’s excuse for missing his shots at the tnt is that he isn’t sitting up straight, but his desk is already almost shoulder height??? I can’t even fathom what that would look like

[sskk-manifesto]

!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[keeps-ache]

.,. ._. <- small guys :0

[retiredteabag]

The soul does not lie

synopsis: Sukuna allows tedious nonsense when he can feel your soul's cravings.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Though he hardly mentions it, Sukuna can, in fact, feel your soul in a way that a normal sorcerer never could. Knowing this helps to make sense of the fact that the man can always tell when you are distressed, even when you try to hide it.

You had discovered this little ability of his when he had come stomping in from the gardens one day while you watched unblinkingly at a horror film.

With your eyes only visible through the slots of your fingers you looked up to see him standing, arms crossed, in the entry way of his chambers.

"What is it that brings you fear?" He had thundered.

"W-what... no, nothing, I'm just watching a movie, see?" You flipped your phone around for the man too see but he did not take his eyes off your form.

"I do not repeat myself." His four eyes were squinted and his eyebrows arched in a dangerously attractive way.

"Kuna' it's a horror movie, that's all, I'm not really scared." You finally announced to the rolling of four red eyes.

"Your soul states otherwise." He quipped before drawing close to try and see what had your soul trembling so fearfully. He was disappointed, to say the least when he was unable to identify what was so "horrific" about your film.

And that marked the moment you realized that Sukuna was able to feel you in a way you could not understand.

Sukuna was NOT a gentleman, he was far, far from it. He loved to bring terror to the masses, very rarely did he allow another beings to so much as speak in his presence. He did, however, have "soft spots" for creatures that sparked his interest, and those remarkably loyal.

Even so, he did not make efforts to calm your nerves when you were anxious. He did not feel the slightest effect in his chest when your sorrow was palpable. He would certainly not allow for time to be wasted on your souls quivering's. That-was none of his concern.

It was not as if he was taking any actions when he allowed your pathetic "cuddling" nonsense when he felt the pangs of misery that surrounded your essence.

You had tried to hold him in the past but he did not see the use in wrapping oneself around another. Even so, he found himself pretending to sleep (even though he did not need it) when he sensed your desperation for his touch.

Likewise, when he could feel the shaky and childish excitement that bled from your soul when you were happy, he could not seem to help but humor you.

As mentioned, Sukuna does not require sleep like your helpless human form. Still, it was not uncommon for the king of curses to close his eyes, relaxing in his ultimate power. Be it when he bathes, when he is lounging on his palace's engawa, when he is seated on his throne, or even when he reclines himself along his chamber's bed.

Sukuna had his eyes closed one evening, feeling his power splay out from his body, grasping at the forms of everyone within his domain. When he sensed your spirit, quickly approaching his chambers.

He made the decision then to seem uninterested when you clambered through the doors.

He could hear the switch in your step as you drew in a breath, clearly forgetting what you had wished to say at the sudden image before you.

The bloodthirsty man had never looked more like a jungle cat, lying atop his bed in such a lazy fashion. He felt the exact moment your soul leapt. He knew you had covered your mouth as your heavy breathing had dulled despite your heartbeat climbing to unusual heights.

He knew of your antics. Having felt you chew on each of his biceps several times. You had that same giddiness now. It was simply that he did not care to move that he kept his eyes closed. Pretending not to notice as you took out your phone, your feet dancing around him. He'll allow you to take your ridiculous photos, he's too... relaxed... to... take issue with your senseless mischief.

He could tell you had finished when he heard you pocket your phone once more, your hands covering your beating heart, you leaned down, holding your breath. The king of curses had to keep himself from squishing his face in ....disgust.... as you planted a chaste kiss in the space between his lower eye and his upper lip.

"You're too precious." You quietly whisper. Brushing your hand softly through his hair. And Sukuna rolled his eyes behind his lids.

Such foolishness he has never seen. Even so- he will allow it.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Sunday, Welt, Gallagher, Blade, and Dan Heng react to his shy gn s/o asking to kiss him on the lips?

Blade: finds it adorable. Absolutely adorable when you finally mustered up the courage to ask for what you want.

‘So you do have a voice?’ And or ‘the mouse has finally squeaked.’ Is what he would say with a smirk as he’d watch you get flustered and embarrassed under his gaze.

As much as he teases you for your shyness, he can’t help but feel a sense of pride for you when you took the first step in speaking your mind.

It was nice to know his lessons weren’t going to waste but then again Blade wasn’t one to hold your innate shyness against you, he just wants you to feel as though you could ask him anything without feeling bad about it.

He’s a dick but he’s instantly melting upon feeling your hands cup his face and is in utter bliss when you finally draw him in for a tender, warm kiss. It’s his one slice of heavenly reprieve that he never, ever wants to be deprived of, ever.

God forbid you stop after one kiss, this man will grow lowly and drag you back himself for more because how dare you tempt him with a mere peck, give him at least a hundred more for fuck sake.

Welt: praises you for your bravery in asking as he knows that it’s not exactly an easy thing to do when you’re naturally shy and prone to giving up before you even try.

‘I’d be more than willing to fulfil your wish to the best of my abilities.’

He’s such a gentleman who’s not afraid of going slow just for your comfort if he see you getting overwhelmed by the mere thought of having to take charge when kissing.

You did ask but Welt was more than ready to step in when it was all becoming too much and guides you through it with a soft, low voice and gentle reminders of hand placement and breathing.

He doesn’t want you passing out on him now.

And besides he’s not the type to do anything to you without your permission.

Sunday: raises his brows in amusement.

‘Oh? How bold of you to ask such a thing my dearest.’ Is his response.

It’s like a predatory watching his prey when it comes to Sunday that you were prone to reframe from speaking upon your desires because it always felt as though the Halovian could see through you. Literally.

It triggers your fight of flight response real quick but you have to remind yourself that you were safe with Sunday. (Or are you?)

He’s got that face that told you that he knew what you were going to ask him before you say anything. Whether or not it’s under unsettling is up to you.

He can obviously see that your nervous and stressed about the whole thing and will try to reassure you that neither of you were going anywhere and that you could take your time, he’ll be there whenever you felt comfortable.

He’s in no rush to be anywhere, not when you’re concerned.

Gallagher: originally thinks something is wrong when he saw you stood there unresponsive for a good few minutes, only to blurt out not even a second later, ‘can I kiss you on the lips?’

His worries fade and a smile graced his lips as he chuckled.

‘You almost had me worried there sweetheart but are you sure you want me to kiss you? What if I decide to bite?’ He’d say cheekily and never had he seen you look more flustered than anything. It’s too cute!

You’re giving this man too much power but also making him weak in the knees and want to kneel at your feet and pledge eternal loyalty to you at the same time.

However whatever you want, Gallagher will provide and if you wanted to give him a kiss, then who was he to say no to such a sweet ask?

‘Please.’ You’d add on and Gallagher could swear he melted right then and there. The magic word worked wonders in your favour as he has you sat on his lap, his big hands holding your waist steady as he waits patiently for his kiss, whsilt you felt your face burn all the way up to your ears.

However beware that one kiss becomes a million kisses with this guy as he loves the feel of your lips against his that sometimes he forgets that you both need oxygen to breathe.

Dan Heng: is equally as flustered and embarrassed as you when you asked.

His face is beat red and his eyes were practically bulging out of his head as he then looks away elsewhere and covers the lower half of his face with a hand. Curse you for being so fucking cute and polite!

He’s swears you’ll be the death of him but then again he’s not complaining.

‘Make it quick.’ He’d say but never in a mean way, he’s just genuinely about to combust if you don’t kiss him now and when you do give him a kiss so soft against his lips, you’ll have to shove his face into an ice bath or something with how unnaturally red it is.

You’re both awkward and new at this but that’s what makes every kiss you share afterwards so special and unique.

I wouldn’t put it past Dan Heng is he goes in for another kiss, he’s unabashedly become addicted to the taste of your lips.

[charliemwrites]

Woof woof… whimper

(Part 10… but technically a continuation of part 9)

Content: Dub-Con/Non-Con, Knotting

It takes your cock-addled brain a second too long to process what Soap’s just said. What he’s implied. And by then he’s all ready for you to buck against him, confused and angry.

“That’s so — that’s not funny!” You shout.

But he’s got you pinned thoroughly, your chest flat against the mattress and your ass flush against his hips. His cock buried so deep you can feel the hot head of it bullying the deepest parts of you. All your struggling does is make you clench up tight around him, makes him feel that much bigger and meaner inside you. Makes him grunt low and ragged in your ear, all animal appreciation.

“I’m not laughin’,” he replies, nipping at your shoulder.

“G-get off of me, get out, get—”

His hand slides into your hair again, gets a firm hold at the roots and presses your face into the blankets, muffling your protests. Shushes you like soothing a panicked animal.

“Now, now,” he chides, “I still gotta prove I’m not compensating, don’t I?”

You suck in a breath, squeezing your eyes shut. There have to be a million explanations other than the absolutely ludicrous one he’s just presented to you. Cameras, microphones….

How did he know where you live?

How did he know where the spare key was?

How did he know where your bedroom was?

How did he find you at the bar?

Stalker, you tell yourself. He’s a creep, you’ve always known that.

Then where’s your dog?

“N-no,” you warble, bucking again. Nearly scream as his cock twitches inside you; only reason you don’t is because you can barely breathe as it is. He’s so deep inside that he’s practically in your lungs. “No way you’re my — there’s no way. You’re crazy. I’m gonna— ah!”

He draws out as you speak, gradual, and then plunges in again all at once, cutting you off. Grinds his hips in a dirty circle too, burying himself as deep as he can.

“Aww, poor thing,” he coos. “S’alright, baby, I knew this would happen. We jus’ gotta get all those big, scary feelings out first. Then I can explain it all nice and slow.”

You try to scream at him. Try to curse him out, tell him there’s no way in hell you’re listening to a word he says now; never mind letting him spend another second with his dick in you.

All that comes out is a high-pitched keen as he starts fucking you without further preamble. It aches, but you can’t tell in what way. If it hurts, if it’s the best you’ve ever had. Both? Your nerves feel haywire, brain dragged to lust-stupid depths.

“See, there we go,” he rasps, punctuating with a sharp snap of his hips on that last word. “My perfect little mate. Your cunt was made for my cock, made to be bred by me. Isn’t that right?”

You try to shake your head, but his grip keeps you from doing more than sending electricity down your spine, hair pulled taut.

“Yeah it fucking is,” he growls to his own question, canting your hips back further. His fingers grip cruelly into the flesh, sure to leave bruises. You wish you didn’t enjoy the sensation, wish it didn’t make you spasm around him helplessly.

“‘Bout time I owned you right back, don’t you think?” He continues, never stopping or even slowing. You yelp as he tugs your necklace again, arching your back at a steep angle. “Even collared yourself up for me. All it needs is my name.”

Something about that drives some awful, slutty part of your brain fucking wild. The idea of you with a tight leather choker — a collar — with his name (you don’t think about what name) hanging from your throat…

“Like that, don’t you?” He chuckles meanly. “Who’s my good little slut? Who’s my perfect, soaked little breeding whore?”

Tears spring to your eyes as you realize the “I am” is right there on the tip of your over-saturated tongue. If you had air, brain cells, any ability at all, you’d be crying it to the ceiling like the toy he’s treating you as.

He’s going to ruin you, you think. He’s going to fuck you broken. You’re crying and wailing on his cock, think you’d actually throw a tantrum if he pulled out and left you on the edge right now. Would, you realize in horror, beg for him to keep going.

And then he snakes his hand around your hip and starts rubbing your clit — fast, hard little circles. Just the way you like; the way you’d do it yourself. Relentlessly and cruel, even when you try to writhe away from how fast you can feel yourself getting to the edge. Almost frightened by it, how quickly he’s mastered your body’s pleasure.

Frightened by the extra stimulation at your entrance, too. A little extra friction at first — shocking because you’re leaving a puddle on the sheets. But then the friction becomes pressure, becomes… more.

“W-wha….?” You slur, hips wriggling.

Soap (Johnny?) snarls in your ear and that feeling at your entrance grows. Feels, you realize with alarm, like stretching.

“Gonnae take my knot so well,” he rambles, accent thick like syrup, trickling into your empty brain, filling you up with meaningless sounds. “Plug you up full of my cum, breed you right just like you need.”

Any questions or confusion are whisked away by the extra stimulation at your entrance. The sensitive nerves getting just as much brutal attention as your inner walls, your cervix, that sweet spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back.

It all becomes too much all at once and crashes through you, devastating. You clamp down around him tight and needy, lean all your weight back into his thighs. And he practically howls as he sinks into you and stays, grinding and humping without ever actually pulling out again. You feel a flood of heat that seems to go on for an absurdly long time, cock pulsing against your overstimulated walls, milked for every last drop.

You shudder as your brain tries and fails to process it all. Like trying to decipher a foreign language from white noise. It’s nothing but static to you.

You can feel a tongue against your shoulder, scraped of blunt teeth. Soap/Johnny licking the sweat from your skin and nipping bruises into the flesh. You make an annoyed noise that comes out whinier than intended, shoving at his face.

“Get off, you bastard.” Your voice is pathetic, thick with tears and fractured in a hundred places.

“Can’t, bonnie, even if I wanted to.”

You scowl, try to look at him over your shoulder. He takes that opportunity to nuzzle against your temple.

“What?” You ask. “What are you talking about?”

“Did ye hear me?” He chuckles. “Well, maybe not with the way you were screamin’. You’re all knotted up, baby. Can’t pull out — ‘less you want this pretty pussy to tear.”

You jolt, nearly yank yourself off out of pure fear, but Johnny keeps you still again, humming.

“Easy now,” he croons. “Still fussy? Need another to settle down?”

Useless as your brain may be, it recognizes what he means by “another one.” You think you might pass out.

“No,” you snap, petulant even to your own ears. “I want you to explain… explain everything.”

“Alright, hen. C’mere.”

He gently lays you out prone on the bed, then rolls you both on your sides. Hitches your leg up over his hip. You want to protest, but it helps the ache in your poor cunt.

“H-how are you still hard?” You pant, traitorous pussy twitching around him.

He growls in your ear, can feel him grinning against the lobe. “Will stay that way for a bit, lass. Don’ worry, you jus’ have to lay here all nice and still. Keep me warm while I explain things to you.”

And he does. How there are shapeshifters out there in the world, rare as they are. That he comes from a line of them. Recruited to military, as most of them are.

How he was on standard patrol when he smelled you for the first time.

“Like a wet dream, bonnie. Fertile. Spring. Smelled like mine.”

How he instantly knew you were his mate. That he just needed to make you see it. Never a good time to explain it all to you — and then there were interlopers and your silly little books and your pesky toys. How he tried to drop hints around the house, let you come to the correct conclusion on your own. But you never did.

“Honestly it’s a good thing I’m here, hen. You’re so oblivious. Lived with a man and never even knew it.”

That he tried to go about it the other way ‘round, as a man, but you’re just so stubborn. And then how it all led up to tonight. To you finally, finally realizing what you really needed: your mate.

You should be angry, furious. There’s a lot to say about… well, all of it. It’s horrifying and violating and… and…

And he hasn’t stopped bullying your clit since he started talking. Cruel, tight circles. Drawing the hood back with two fingers and stroke with a third, slow and languid and just soft enough to make your head spin. Rhythmless taps. Even pinches when you try to chew him out at one point, half turning to scowl. Instead have his tongue lapping sloppily at yours as your mouth gapes open soundlessly.

Makes you cum twice just like that without ever interrupting his own story, cock still hilted — knotted deep inside you. Honestly, you probably miss a good portion of it, some of the finger details for sure. But you get the broad strokes (among other strokes).

He licks at your overstimulated tears when he’s finished, nuzzling and kissing your cheek.

“I-I miss my dog,” you mumble finally, hands balled against your chest.

“Aww, darlin’,” he sighs, sounding genuinely apologetic. “We’re one and the same. I’m always your boy no matter what form I take.”

It would be more comforting if his dick didn’t throb calling himself your boy.

“‘Sides, I’m better than a normal mutt,” he continues, tugging you against his chest. You want to hate that is instantly makes you feel a little better. “Wolves mate for life, after all.”

First | Previous | 1fur1

Masterlist

[everquestskeleton]

people are nuts for thinking depression and mental illness in general = better art or whatever. when I'm off my meds I can't do a damn thing

[marypaol]

Copy Of A Copy

Draco Malfoy x fem!Reader

Summary: Whatever is drawn on your skin shows up on your soulmates skin.

Warnings: Annoyance, Draco being Draco, I honestly can’t think of anything let me know if you see something!

Note: I’ve been planning on writing this for so long and I’m finally doing so! Hope you guys enjoy. :)

Masterlist

Request Requirements

The pale fingers of the Slytherin carefully-but skillfully- chopped the ingredients for the Potion, trying to cut out the conversation of Potter and Weasley. They were clearly trying to keep their voices down but failing to do so due to Draco’s hearing abilities.

It was at that moment he wished he was temporarily deaf, so that he didn’t have to hear the bickering of Potter and wanna-be-Weasley.

“Haha! Look at Seamus, Malfoy.” Crabbe said, his big face scrunching up as his fat finger pointed to the clumsy boy across the room. Draco spared a glance, seeing the boy with a black face, looking into his potion helplessly as the explosion just occurred. Malfoy rolled his eyes, shooting Crabbe a glare before looking back to his task at hand.

But, when he glanced at his hand, he saw little flowers forming, the ink moist as whoever was drawing it was doing it in real time. Petal after petal appeared, forming a decent picture. He grumbled, grabbing the towel Seamus used to wipe his face and aggressively rubbed the skin, terribly smearing the ink on the back of his hand, the flowers mushing together, making it not look so decent anymore.

He flung the towel on the table beside him, and picked up the knife he placed down, going back to his previous actions.

“What now, Malfoy?” Goyle asked. Draco snarled.

“Stupid soulmate drawing on their skin again. Seriously, they can’t draw on a piece of parchment?” He complained, his chops becoming more harsh on the cutting board.

Goyle shrugged. “Unless they’re bored in class. What is it anyway? Little reminders?”

“No, course not! In fact, I’d rather it be that instead of rubbish drawings of dumb flowers! Look at that rubbish,” Draco started, repeating the word he said earlier with a bitter taste growing in his mouth. He showed the two boys what was left of the flowers on his hand. “Honestly, how ugly.”

The two boys agreed, but they had hints of smiles on their faces.

Draco noticed and barked. “What’s so funny, boys?”

The smiles dropped instantly on Goyle’s face but Crabbe still had a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Nothing, just that your soulmate draws on her skin.”

Draco squinted. “And what’s so funny about that? Enlighten me, I’d rather laugh than roll my eyes.”

Goyle shrugged. “Just that she must be doing it in purpose. Ya know, for you to see?”

Draco thought about it for a moment, ignoring the new lines forming on his hand.

“Why would I want to see this?” Draco wondered, irritation brewing inside him. “Especially on my hand, I don’t need it there, it’s annoying really.”

“You know how girls are. She’s desperate, man.” Crabbe jumped in, entering the conversation once he found out Draco wasn’t as upset as he thought.

Draco scoffed. “You know what, you’re right, Crabbe. She’s desperate for me. Doesn’t change the fact that it’s annoying and I don’t want it there.”

Draco then finally looked down at his hand, and this time he saw an eye with shading, the smooth strokes of eyelashes now forming on his skin. Once she was done, Draco saw more stokes forming above the eye, and, wondering what it is, leaned forward to see what she was drawing. It turned out to be an eyebrow, but the way the lines were drawn helped Draco see the direction the hairs were going in, adding detail to the drawing he didn’t know was needed.

He gripped the towel between his finger tips of his other hand, but he felt some sort of guilt eating at his chest for rubbing away such work. But he didn’t want to be walking around with silly eyes and eyebrows on his hand, so with unwanted shame brewing in his chest he rubbed the fabric on the back of his hand, the once was ink smearing, covering his skin in black.

The girl frowned deeply as she watched once more the drawings she made were harshly rubbed away. The ink from her quill was a black blob now once the person was satisfied enough. Satisfied that the pictures were gone.

Her heart sank in her stomach for an unknown reason.

Well, she knew the reason, she just didn’t want to admit to herself that what her soulmate was doing was effecting her in this way.

She shouldn’t be surprised that he rubbed them off; I mean, who wants to walk around the corridors with silly drawings on the back of their hand? She didn’t have a problem with it, but he clearly did.

After the last moment of Lupin’s lecture faded away with the bell she grumbly got up and out her things away, making her way to the bathroom to rub the ink off. (Despite the nonexistent problem with walking around with drawings on herself, she did have a problem with walking around with a big ink smear in their place.)

She bent over the sink, her bag discarded at her feet as she rubbed the skin, forming red marks in their wake. The ink slowly ran down the drain, her heart going down with it.

She wished her soulmate accepted her actions on showing she was there, existing, live and breathing, to assure them that someone out there wanted them. But was he just embarrassed? Did he not want her as much as she thought he did? Did he have an annoyance towards the whole soulmate concept?

She sure hoped not, because her want to show her love was strong, yet the want to receive it was even stronger.

She wanted someone to love.

That loved her right back.

Did he even want that?

“Any drawings today, Malfoy?” Crabbe asked, a soft chuckle escaping his big mouth. Draco snarled at the boy beside him, also glaring at Goyle who was making interesting-meaning quite disgusting- noises while he was eating the feast the house elves provided.

The boy who received the glare quickly composed himself, swallowing the large amount of whatever it was down his throat, a loud gulping sound heard around the table.

Draco glared again.

Finally he turned to the other boy who addressed him earlier and replied reluctantly.

“No. Thank goodness. I’ve been sick and tired of constantly having to distress my skin; honestly, the embarrassment of walking around with a red tomato colored hand.”

Crabbe agreed with a hum, in the middle of chewing. Draco definitely noticed him paying extra attention to the noises he was making, so he didn’t annoy Draco any further.

“Never mind that,” Draco said, pulling through Daily Prophet out of his robes, long pale fingers flipping the pages until he got to the one he wanted.

“Father’s in the paper, as always.” He said proudly, showing the two boys the picture of his father. “Oh! And look!” He added, chuckling madly as he pointed to the same article, the name ‘Arthur Weasley’ printed as it told a story about him.

“Ridiculous, honestly.” Malfoy muttered, shoving the paper to Goyle across the table since he was (according to Draco) taking too long to read it.

“Ugh, Care of Magical Creatures today.” Draco complained, looking at his schedule. “That silly Hagrid, honestly, I swear I’m going to die each time I attend his classes.”

Goyle swallowed again. “Seriously, how many times does he have to bring in a deadly creature that might chop my head off-”

“Well I would certainly enjoy that.” Draco snapped. Goyle’s cheeks turned pink.

“God this place has gone to the dogs.” Draco muttered, stuffing his schedule in his pocket, taking one last gulp of pumpkin juice, and storming out of the Hall, and without question, the two boys followed him.

“‘Ello! Please step dis way,” Hagrid said, large hands clapping together. Draco scoffed but reluctantly followed the orders.

“Taken’ care of- well more of lookin’ at interestin’ creatures today; take a step back now.” He warned. (Malfoy gladly stepped back)

The crates ended up being full of slimy creatures Draco ended up forgetting the name of, too busy trying to keep his fingers attacked to his hands. “Gross, Goyle you do it.” He said, handing the boy the food and watched as his friend gave the creature its supper, hands shaking nervously.

Draco looked around as Goyle did the work, folding his arms as he watched with amusement as the Gryffindors struggled to feed the animals.

He then spotted another Slytherin working alone, the back of her head the only thing visible when it came to her features near her face.

Two small braids were on either side of her head, easily blending with her hair but he could see the twisted strands in the sunlight much easier.

She turned so he saw her profile, and, from what he could see, her eyes were bright but hesitant, a look of disgust on her lips as she fed the creature. As soon as all the food was gone, she instantly dropped the tool she was using to handle the food and grabbed a rag, wiping her hands off even though she didn’t touch it or the animal.

It was then Draco saw it. The small detail on her left hand, as so his.

A patch of distressed skin was there, in the same exact shape as Draco’s. He found himself looking at his own hand, then at hers, and back at his once again to double check.

They matched.

They matched.

Which means only one thing.

The girl that he’s never seen before, which was white surprising since he often told himself that he knew all the Slytherins, was his soulmate.

What was more surprising though was something much weirder and stranger. And that something was this:

The realization didn’t bother him one bit.

Tag list: @thatonepupkai @squishneon @buttersuaa @bxtchsimp @amayaaaxx @ssailormoonn @redvelvet103 @yasmine12xxx @youreyesareasprettyasstars @cassiethefab @iambored24601

Thanks for liking the post! (I will also be tagging y’all in the Harry one- let me know if you changed your mind about it and don’t want to be tagged!) :)

Skin To Skin (part two!)

[cy-cyborg]

Writing and drawing amputee characters: Not every amputee wears prosthetics (and that's ok)

Not every amputee wears prosthetics, and not doing so is not a sign that they've "given up".

It's a bit of a trope that I've noticed that when an amputee, leg amputees in particular, don't wear prosthetics in media its often used as a sign that they've given up hope/stopped trying/ are depressed etc. If/when they start feeling better, they'll start wearing their prosthetics again, usually accompanied by triumphant or inspiring music (if it's a movie). The most famous example of this is in Forest Gump, Where Dan spends most of the movie after loosing his legs wishing he'd died instead. He does eventually come around, and him finally moving from his wheelchair to prosthetics is meant to highlight this.

The thing is, it's not that it's unrealistic - in fact my last major mental health spiral was started because one of my prosthetics was being a shit and wouldn't go on properly, despite fitting perfectly at the prosthetist's the day before. I'm not going to use my legs when I'm not in a good headspace, but the problem is, this is the only time non-prosthetic using amputees ever get representation: to show how sad they are. Even if that's not what the creator/writer necessarily intended, audiences will often make that assumption on their own unless you're very careful and intentional about how you frame it, because it's what existing media has taught them to expect.

But there are lots of reasons why someone might not use prosthetics:

they might not need them: this is more common in arm amputees because of how difficult it can be to use arm prosthetic, especially above-elbow prosthetics. Most folks learn how to get on without them pretty well. In fact, most of the arm amputees I know don't have prosthetics, or only have them for specific tasks (e.g. I knew a girl who had a prosthetic hand made specifically for rowing, but that's all she used it for).

Other mobility aids just work better for them: for me, I'm faster, more manoeuvrable and can be out for longer when I'm in my wheelchair than I ever could on my prosthetics. Youtube/tik tok creator Josh Sundquist has said the same thing about his crutches, he just feels better using them than his prosthetic. This isn't the case for everyone of course, but it is for some of us. Especially people with above-knee prosthetics, in my experience.

Other disabilities make them harder to use: Some people are unable to use prosthetics due to other disabilities, or even other amputations. Yeah, as it turns out, a lot of prosthetics are only really designed for single-limb amputees. While they're usable for multi-limb amps, they're much harder to use or they might not be able to access every feature. For example, the prosthetic knee I have has the ability to monitor the walk cycle of the other leg and match it as close as possible - but that only works if you have a full leg on the other side. Likewise, my nan didn't like using her prosthetic, as she had limited movement in her shoulders that meant she physically couldn't move her arms in the right way to get her leg on without help.

Prosthetics are expensive in some parts of the world: not everyone can afford a prosthetic. My left prosthetic costs around $5,000 Australian dollars, but my right one (the above knee) cost $125,000AUD. It's the most expensive thing I own that I only got because my country pays for medical equipment for disabled folks. Some places subsidise the cost, but paying 10% of $125,000 is still $12,500. Then in some places, if you don't have insurance, you have to pay for that all by yourself. Even with insurance you still have to pay some of it depending on your cover. Arm prosthetics are even more expensive. Sure, both arms and legs do have cheaper options available, but they're often extremely difficult to use. You get what you pay for.

they aren't suitable for every type of environment: Prosthetics can be finicky and modern ones can be kind of sensitive to the elements. My home town was in a coastal lowland - this means lots of beaches and lots of swamp filled with salty/brackish water. The metals used in prosthetics don't hold up well in those conditions, and so they would rust quicker, I needed to clean them more, I needed to empty sand out of my foot ALL THE TIME (there always seemed to be more. It was like a bag of holding but it was just sand). Some prosthetics can't get wet at all. There were a few amputees who moved to the area when I was older who just didn't bother lol. It wasn't worth the extra effort needed for the maintenance.

People have allergies to the prosthetic material: This is less of a problem in the modern day, but some people are allergic to the materials their prosthetics are made from. You can usually find an alternative but depending on the type of allergy, some people are allergic to the replacements too.

Some people just don't like them.

There's nothing wrong with choosing to go without a prosthetic. There's nothing wrong with deciding they aren't for you. It doesn't make you a failure or sad or anything else. Using or not using prosthetics is a completely morally neutral thing.

Please, if you're writing amputees, consider if a prosthetic really is the best mobility aid for your character and consider having your characters go without, or at least mix it up a bit.

For example, Xari, one of the main characters in my comic, uses prosthetics unsupported and with crutches, and uses a wheelchair. They alternate between them throughout the story.

[azullumi]

“i wanna be yours” ; aventurine

premise — but this is what friends do, right? they slow dance together in the living room while saying sweet nothings ; inspired by this ask (though i never really followed the entire idea, my hands has minds of its own)

pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff (with a little bit of angst at the end), friends but wanting more type of relationship, all written in reader’s pov, not proofread, 1.2k words ; one-shot

tagging — @toorurs (hi boo)

note — i keep on comparing aventurine to the sun i dont even know why i do it. 9 DAYS LEFT UNTIL HIS BANNER

“care to dance?” the languid, lazy silence draws itself away as the honey-haired man spoke, offering you his hand as he did. the light humming of the music in the background keeps the night awake and alive, the softness of the notes intertwined in the air that settles in your home.

you stare at his hand for a moment, admiring the glistening bracelet on his wrist before you answer, tone meek and hesitant: “i don’t know how to dance.” you expected him to laugh at you for not knowing a simple and common concept; dancing was a form of art known to many and yet, you are unfamiliar with it.

but aventurine simply smiles at you and takes your hand to hold on his own, gently pulling you up from your seat and making you stumble on your feet—however, he catches you and doesn’t let you fall to the ground. you are only met with the warmth of his body and the feeling of his unoccupied hand resting on the small of your back.

“you could have warned me before you did that.” you huffed, although you weren’t exactly reprimanding him.

“i still caught you, didn’t i?” the man answers in a gentle tone as he begins to sway you to the rhythm of the song (the melody wraps itself around your form like the cradle of a warm blanket), a familiar tune that plays in your living room and now you are listening to it as you—no, as he dances and guides your movements. you try to follow him albeit like a clumsy child and silence trailed behind your steps as none of you spoke, only wallowing in this moment between you and him.

(his hand is warm against yours, fingers lacing with each other like two puzzle pieces meant to fit together. you have never known how gentle he can be, have never known the warmth of his hands and the softness of his palms up until this moment. maybe it’s the feeling of his touch that’s making you drunk and aeons, you’ve never thought of yourself as a selfish person but something in the way he’s holding you makes you crave for more.)

“focus,” he whispers to your ear, catching you completely off-guard when his breath tickles your skin, “you’re supposed to look at me, not at the ground.”

you compose yourself, bringing your gaze to his face instead of the marble floors that seem to spin as you move, “i was watching my feet so i won’t accidentally step on you.”

“i don’t mind if you do, all i wish is for you to look at me and me only.” he speaks so gently, so delicately as if something akin to despair hangs on the tangled threads of his words. you study his face, looking at the lines on his features and trying to look for the gap of his expression—you could never tell what he was thinking, could never decipher the meaning he skillfully weaves to the words that he utters (you wish you had the ability to look into minds, perhaps you would have known him).

he notices your silence and smiles, “can’t a poor man have their own wishes?”

you take a moment once more to answer, “i didn’t say that.” well, in fact, you weren’t saying anything. the sound of laughter slips past his lips and perhaps, if you didn’t see the way his eyes formed into a crescent and his expression contorts one into amusement, you would have mistook the sound as part of the song.

“you should see the way you look right now.” 

you raised your eyebrow at him, confusion evident in your face, “what do you mean? is there dirt on my face?”

aventurine pulled you closer to him, movements coming to a stop as you two stood still. his face is leaning down to yours, lips merely inches away from each other, and your thoughts are in a jumble as if your mind was a library of cluttered and disorganized bookshelves.

“no, i’m saying you look lovely tonight.” he whispers—and you swear, you see his eyes look down to your lips for a moment—, his voice low as if you’re the only one who’s supposed to hear and not the moon that casts its curious glow on his skin, not the stars that watched your every move, but you and just you.

(you’re left with nothing but silence and warmth in your cheeks, not knowing where to focus or even think about—the strong scent of his perfume or his words that repeatedly echoed inside your head.)

the golden-haired man doesn’t speak any further, continuing his slow dance with you in the comfort of your living room as he hums along to the melody. the night is heavy against your shoulders as the silver moonlight laid on the ground like spilled milk.

“it is quite simple, isn’t it? look, you’re able to follow.”

“aven, you’re doing all of the work.”

he slowly spins you around—the world looks slow and messy for you for a moment—before he answers, “barely.” he comes face to face with you and you don’t fail to notice the affection in his eyes when he meets your gaze.

“don’t look at me like that.” you wished he wouldn’t look at you in that way; something tugs at your heart and suffocates you.

“like what?”

“i don’t know.” hesitation follows your tone, broken and unsure, seemingly lost in an empty field full of directions. “like…” like you wanted me like a lover, you keep the words at your throat knowing you’ll choke on it one day. you don’t know how to say it, you don’t even know if you can say it. it was as if the ability to speak has been taken away from you.

the song came to its end and so was the dance.

“you should go to sleep, don’t stay up too much.” aventurine says, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek and pressing a kiss on your forehead. he lets you go as soon as he parts his lips, stepping back to the distance the both of you once had before all of this happened, as if nothing occurred between you two, as if the words whispered against each other, the closeness, the intimacy were all just some silly imagination.

“are you leaving already?” you ask, your hand reaching out to tug at his sleeve as if you didn’t want him to go. you don’t even know what made you hold on to him, what made you want him to not want to leave.

the man who had the universe in his wake answers with warmth in his tone, “i can’t stay any longer.” he holds your hand and ushers you to remove your grasp on his sleeve. everything felt so different now, your thoughts were all so loud but you couldn’t dare to speak nor say something as you watched him turn away and leave—the sound of the door closing echoed throughout the corners of your home and you were left alone, in silence and in the cold.

but the comfort and warmth of his touch lingered on your skin—and you’ll remember it all; it will haunt you, follow your shadow everywhere you go, pulling on the hem of your shirt with the desperation of a dying man and you don’t know how to live knowing the way he held you on this night. how are you supposed to deal with the fact that his hands were as soft and warm as summer?

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[soulofapatrick]

Unbreakable Bond - Jasper Hale x female reader 

Summary: Someone reveals your relationship with Jasper to the Cullens

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: a little angsty I guess but mostly fluff

Y/N’s POV 

The Cullen household is bathed in a soft, warm light, casting a cozy ambiance over the living room. We’re all gathered here, the entire Cullen family, and our guests from the Denali Coven. I’m curled up on the couch, next to Seth Clearwater, our own unique mix of vampires and wolves living together in peace. Though I’m a vampire now, I’ll forever be grateful to the Cullens for making me part of their family. 

The Denali visitors also have a new member, Isla, who possesses a remarkable and unique ability - the power of relationship identification. If I were human my heart would be pounding and I’d be sweating buckets from anxiety as no-one knows about me and Jasper. I’ve been trying to mask my scent with Seth’s all evening and I know it’s been pissing Jasper off but he understands, knowing it might still be too soon to tell anyone our relationship. Alice left just over three months ago, wishing our relationship well and hugging us tightly before she slipped away. 

We’ve all been sitting together, enjoying the light conversations, when Isla suddenly goes silent, her brows furrowing as she looks around the room. Her eyes dart around the room, evaluating the various relationships within the house. I feel her gaze on me, and it sends a shiver down my spine. I hope she doesn’t discover our secret. 

As the night wears on, the tension within me mounts. Isla’s sharp gaze flits between me and the members of both our covens, and her curiosity seems to be growing. I can’t help but fidget on the couch next to Seth. He gives me a knowing look, his eyes filled with sympathy and understanding. We’ve been through a lot together, and he’s one of the few I’ve trusted with mine and Jasper’s secret. Seth’s hand settles on my knee, thumb rubbing soothingly and I can feel Jasper bristle from across the room where he’s sulking, leaning against the wall. 

Finally, a calming silence falls over the room, conversations slowing to a quietness that is only broken by the record playing in the background. Esme, Rosalie and Tanya are looking at Isla with curiosity and I’m shifting in my seat again, my legs still over Seth’s lap and his fingers drumming a comforting rhythm on my calves. 

Isla's penetrating gaze is unwavering, and I can sense her curiosity burning like a flame in her dark, enigmatic eyes. Her words break the silence, each syllable imbued with a contemplative and almost otherworldly quality. "There's a bond here," she speaks softly, her voice tinged with reverence, "A romantic bond that's stronger than anything I've ever sensed before." Her statement lingers in the air, and I can almost hear the collective intake of breath as everyone's eyes dart around the room, desperately searching for clues.

My heart should be pounding in my chest as her gaze momentary flits to Jasper, who shifts his position from where he leans against the wall. I can feel the weight of the room’s expectations, the unspoken questions about who this powerful romantic bond might involve. My eyes dart from Jasper to Seth again, the latter trying to provide me with comfort without drawing unnecessary attention. 

Then, an electrifying moment unfolds. Isla’s voice, trembling with excitement, pierces the stillness as she cries out, “It’s you!” The words seem to hand in the air, leaving everyone shocked and bewildered. After all, everyone knows Jasper’s mate - Alice - left him months ago, a revelation that had sent ripples of sadness through the family and making me feel even guiltier than ever before. 

But Isla seems to pay no heed to the apparent facts, as her eyes dart frantically around the room, unwilling to let go of her conviction. Then, with sudden clarity, her intense scrutiny lands on me and Seth, the two of us glancing at each other and I’m swallowing hard, somewhat panicked as Isla whispers somewhat uncertainly, “You?”

Her words feel like an electric shock, coursing through the room. I feel like the ground beneath me has crumbled, and the eyes of the Cullen family, the Denali visitors, and Seth all turn towards me, their expressions ranging from shock to confusion. I can't bear the weight of their scrutiny, the disbelief in their eyes. 

In that overwhelming moment, I’m gripped by an uncontrollable surge of emotions. I jump up from the couch and, without a second thought, flee from the room. My footsteps are swift and soundless as I rush outside to the porch, needing the cool night air to soothe myself. 

Out on the porch, I grip the railing tightly, my body trembling with emotions. My chest aches, but no tears come; vampires can’t cry. It’s a though my body is trying to release something that’s forever been denied to me. The weight of the revelation, the fear of judgement and the sudden exposure of my hidden relationship with Jasper has left me in a state of turmoil. I close my eyes, trying to steady my racing thoughts and find solace in the tranquility of the night. 

With my eyes closed, I focus on the cool, night breeze, hoping its gentle touch will provide some relief. But its not the wind that soothes me. It’s the warmth and presences of someone wrapping their arms around my waist from behind. A familiar scent fills my senses, and I shudder as soft, cool lips press against my shoulder. 

Jasper. He’s here, holding me, his presence a comforting balm for my turmoil. His empathetic powers come into play, and a calm washes over me, as if he’s channeling his own serenity into my very being. In that moment, the world around me fades into obscurity, and it’s just the two of us, finding solace and strength in each other’s embraces. 

Slowly, he untangles himself from me, but his hands remain gentle as he turns me to face him. He cups my face in his cool, comforting hands, his golden eyes filled with love and understanding. He begins to speak softly, “You know how much I love you, right? And I want you to know that Alice left letters for everyone when she saw this day coming.” 

His words are a balm to my anxious heart, reaffirming the depth of his love and commitment to our relationship. I can’t help but smile though my lingering uncertainty, touched by his unwavering affection. But before I can fully process the weight of his words, he moves closer to me, my hips pressing against the porch railings, and his strong, sturdy body now surrounds me. The space between us vanishes, and the electrifying tension in the air seems to grow hotter. 

Jasper’s lips find mine with an urgency I haven’t felt since the first time we kissed when he opened his emotions to me. Neither of us realising the first time that his emotional manipulation powers can go both ways like Bella’s where he can let me feel how he’s feeling. It’s almost euphoric, being able to know exactly how he feels with no barriers. 

The kiss is a heady fusion of sensations. His lips are velvety and cool against mine, an exquisite contrast to the heat that radiates between us. I can taste a hint of his unique, familiar flavour, an  alluring combination of the forest after a summer rain, the subtle sweetness of his breath, and the enticing essence of Jasper himself. 

His emotions are a revelation, an unfiltered connection to the depth of his desire and longing. I feel the surge of his love, a powerful current that engulfs me, overwhelming but incredibly tender. There’s a are, unbridled passion in his kiss, a manifestation of the profound emotions he feels for me. It’s almost euphoric, this unadulterated exchange of feelings, being able to know exactly how he feels with no barriers, just the pure, unfiltered connection of our love. 

The kiss itself is a passionate dance, an exploration of each other’s souls through the meeting of our lips. It’s an affirmation of the love that binds us, acknowledging the intensity of our connection and a promise of the forever we’ll share together. 

“Come back inside with me," Jasper murmurs against my lips, breaking the kiss but not the closeness between us. His words are filled with warmth and reassurance, and I can feel the sincerity in his embrace.

"They hate me," I confess, my voice a soft whisper as I rest my forehead on his shoulder.

Jasper gently lifts my chin, his golden eyes meeting mine with unwavering love. "No one hates you," he says, his voice tender and filled with conviction. "They may have been surprised, but we'll face this together. You'll see, they'll understand.”

He places a sweet, lingering kiss on my forehead before entwining his fingers with mine and gently coaxing me back inside. His presence is a source of strength, and with him by my side, I find the courage to face whatever challenges lie ahead

                           ┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

TAGS: New Tag List Form

Twilight Masterlist

[ddarker-dreams]

play wresting — gojo satoru.

(Warning for mild not sfw implications)

“So this is it, then? I’ve finally… finally been bested.” 

From this vantage point, you tower over a certain melodramatic man, whose long limbs cover the king sized bed at awkward angles. His soft, snowy hair blends in with the stark white comforter. He tries lifting himself up, but his arms buckle from the exertion of such a physically demanding act. The feigned helplessness comes close to breaking your composure. 

“Humor a dying man’s final request,” Gojo rasps. “Did you ever love me? Or were you just after the money and status all along?” 

The term money and status reverberates in your head, taking you back to the rumors whispered behind closed doors by those opposed to your engagement. Gojo, being the person he is, delighted in playing into your supposed alternative motives whenever a ‘well-intentioned’ member of the more conservative factions tried tipping him off. 

“Babe? Did you hear that?” He had called you over once, a hand to his chest, as if he’d learned the most scandalous news. “This man here said you’re only after my assets. Is this true? I thought for sure it was my devastatingly good looks and charm that won you over.” 

(The face of the man in question went beet red over how loud Gojo spoke these words. Unsurprisingly, he slunk off at the earliest opportunity). 

You try assuming your role as the indifferent black widow here, looking down your nose at him. “Nope. I’ve been biding my time all these years.” 

You’re not sure what spurred him on to flex his acting muscles. When you entered the room, you were overcome with the urge to tackle him onto the bed. You’ve both loved roughhousing each other since you were in high school. Given the sheer, unfathomable extent of Gojo’s abilities, he was perfectly capable of dodging you or standing firm against your attempts. Alas, those two options must not have interested him. 

And so he’s writhing in faux agony, putting on a show, as he is wont to do. 

“Do I get any final requests?” 

“Hm,” you hum, fighting how desperately your lips wish to curl into a smile, “That depends. What is it?” 

Whatever he murmurs next is unintelligible. 

Curious, you step forward, urging him to repeat himself. He does. Despite speaking slightly louder, the syllables and consonants blur together, spoken in such rapid succession that your brain can’t piece it together. You draw close enough for your knees to hit the side of the bed. Whatever he’s planning, this must be the grand finale. 

This time, you understand him perfectly fine. You don’t know whether you should laugh or roll your eyes. Perhaps both. 

“Let me hit it, just one more time,” Gojo says these words as if in actual pain, successfully melting your apathetic facade. 

You can feel the satisfaction rolling off him in waves over the fact you broke first. Not willing to accept total defeat, you huff and pivot on your heels. You can feel his eyes boring into your back as you saunter toward the door. You answer the question that’s undoubtedly burning his tongue before he can speak it. 

“Consider your request denied. I need to start searching for my next rich husband — time is of the essence.” 

You gape as the once open door is now shut, faster than you could blink. In front of it is your apparently resuscitated Gojo Satoru, who acts as a human barricade. He extends his long arms out to ensure you’re not going anywhere. His grin is all teeth and his brilliant blue eyes gleam. 

“Sorry babe, this rich husband’s still alive and kicking. Better luck next time.” 

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want: Part 7

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You’re new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: traumatic past, trust issues, cursing, very likely typos

Words: 3262

The One I Want Masterlist

Jake Seresin is a puzzle whose pieces, as you have come to see, are already slotted together. You learned tonight that a few of those pieces are worn from being picked at, but they don’t impede his ability to be complete. Jake is beautiful and smart with a well-built confidence and a certain quality that, with enough time, makes you want to open yourself up to him. Everything about him goes together. It all works. Those pieces make Jake the man he is, in all of his perfection. So being in his presence, you want to be who he wants you to be. You want to be just as put together. But you’re not sure you’re strong enough for that. 

“You can trust me,” he says, your hands still clasped together. You glance down at those hands, wondering when exactly he wove his fingers with yours. “I’ll share first if that’ll make it any easier.”

Eyes flicking up, you take in the intensity of the pair staring back at you—the depth within them, the swelling pupils that are pushing the green into a thin ring and drawing you in. They’re too honest, and it hits you like a ton of bricks.

Has anyone else ever looked at you this way? You think the closest instance you can recall involves the man you’d naively fallen in love with who lived in the first town you’d moved to on your own. But his look was a hidden lie discovered far too late. 

You suppose there was a fraction of Jake’s honesty in Millie’s eyes when she expressed her thoughts and told her story so openly. She would probably be willing to attempt understanding you if you offered it. 

You know you’re reaching, though. Trying to grasp at something that isn’t all there to prove that the way Jake is looking at you now is nothing unique. That it’s not special. That he doesn’t make your heart pound or your stomach flutter or cause a tingle to creep up your spine.

But when you consider telling him the truth of your history, you already sense the shame you’ve been living with for years preparing to double in force. And how can you allow that? You don’t need anything else weighing you down. You can’t possibly handle more. Certainly not from him. 

You tear your eyes away from his and aren’t shocked to find that that’s exactly what it feels like—a tear. A tearing that holds so much resistance you can practically hear the slow rip that severs the connection. 

“It’s not that easy,” you whisper.

“It can be,” he says, fingers tightening around yours. “You know how much I want to know you.”

The closing of your throat doesn’t allow you to swallow. An invisible hand is wrapped around your neck, blocking your oxygen, fogging your vision with unwanted tears. Your lip quivers all on its own.

Jake reaches out, lightly pressing his thumb to that lip as if he could stop its trembling. 

Then you shake your head and his thumb disappears. 

Standing, you try to step away, but his hand, still tangled with yours, stops you. You think he’s doing it on purpose, refusing to let you leave until he gets what he wants, but when you look at his face, it’s blank. His eyes stare ahead, the corners of his mouth are turned downward, and he doesn’t seem to feel you prying open his fingers to free your hand. 

His arm drops and slides into his lap, and you take that as a sign to retreat to your bedroom. 

You’re not quite through the door when you hear, “I wish you felt like you could trust me.” His voice is as defeated as his facial expression had shown. Low, dark, raspy. “Whatever it is, it's not going to change how I see you.”

You want to believe him so badly. So much so that, without any effort, you could let it consume you. But you can’t bet on his words. So you close your door the rest of the way. 

—

You’ve thought about him for a week straight, and each of those thoughts has scribbled their way into the notebook you’d sort of kind of—would deny it if anyone asked—stolen from the shop. 

But your little notes on Jake you don’t allow to blend with the chaotic notes of your past. He gets his own pages with words written in neater script. There’s not a single smudge of ink from your hand rubbing the paper in a rush to get your memories down before you forget some of their details. Not a single splotch of liquid black from a pen pressed too harshly onto the paper. No holes from that pen tracing the same words over and over in a fit of dampened anger. Like Jake, your notes on him are neat, and beautiful, and perfect in appearance. 

What they contain, however, is something different: bunches of sentences warring with one another as you try to decide what you’re going to do next. You live with him. You see him every day. You’ll have to interact, which means you’ll have to get over this hump. The only problem is that it may not be a hump Jake wants to get over.

In the months you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him the way he was that night last week. So much was crammed into a couple of hours and it provided you with a fresh image of him—not an image that changed, exactly, but simply an image that developed a new layer. And you liked having that layer of his visible, until it became clear that the spotlight was turning to you so you may develop another layer as well. 

Stepping out of that light meant plenty to you—you knew the message you were sending, even though you felt resistance from every part of you screaming to stay put—but it did more to Jake than you imagined, and that realization came in the form of Jake not speaking to over the past weeks worth of mornings, not smiling, not waiting for you so you could share breakfast. He’s gone before your alarm goes off. 

It only took you ten hours to notice the void that formed in your chest from missing him around you. After ten hours—most of which you spent trying to sleep—you felt awful in more ways than one. Not only were you exhausted and absorbing your dislike of his absence that first morning, but Jake, despite his hurt state, continues to take care of you. 

Those breakfasts he doesn’t wait around to share with you are still available, already made up on a plate with saran wrap keeping them safe in the fridge. The post-its he sticks to the coffee pot to inform you of said breakfasts never fail to have a small smiley face drawn in the corner. And to be fair, he does speak to you a little, but unless it seems to be a matter of life or death, which you haven’t been able to manage, his answers are clipped. Even then, it could be that those short answers are the best he can do for himself rather than anything he is doing for your benefit. With how much Jake talks in general, and with how lively you are used to seeing him, maybe he can’t be one-hundred percent silent no matter how much he wants to. 

Regardless of what it really is, the tension has grown thicker by the day.

These days are not ones you want to morph into routine. You can’t watch them settle and solidify when you crave him and what he adds to your new life to this degree. Which means you have to figure yourself out. Not all of you—that will take some time—but enough of you that you can approach Jake and take the chance to be honest with him. His offer to exchange stories shows that it is not just you who needs it, but Jake as well. 

That is what has prompted you to bring your notebook to work over the last seven days. And the more time you spend writing your notes, the more you release from your damaged soul, and the more good things about Jake start piling up. His faults are underwhelming and overshadowed, and all it confirms is that you want him back. So you decide that when he picks you up from work, something you never expected him to continue doing considering your current relationship, you’re going to break the silence by asking for another chance. 

—

When Rooster’s truck pulls up to the store, Millie is leaning halfway out the passenger side window, one hand waving your way, the other arm bracing her precarious position. A moment later, her elbow slips on the sill and she lurches forward with a sharp yelp. Looking past her, you can see Rooster reach over the center console and wrap his arm around her waist to pull her back to safety. 

“Babe, please,” he groans. “You’re stressing me out.”

She glances at him over her shoulder. “Oh, you hush. I’ve never fallen.”

“Yet,” he emphasizes. “I’d like it if my girlfriend stayed alive. I've got plans that involve you.”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, Darlin’. You know my hips will save me from making it all the way out the window.” 

Rooster only rolls his eyes in response before unwrapping his arm and giving her ass a light smack. 

Millie looks back at you, her grin wide and displaying a row of straight, white teeth. “Hey, honey. Workin’ hard or hardly workin’?”

“You can only work so hard here,” you say with a weak chuckle. “Where’s Jake? Is he okay?”

You want that answer as much as you don’t. You pray he’s fine and safe, but then it means the tension that hasn’t dwindled the slightest has finally become too much for him. Though you’d rather he avoid you than be injured or ill, it hurts no less. Right as you devise a plan to bring the two of you back together, he pulls further away.

“Oh, he’s um…” Millie bites her lip.

“Staying on base tonight,” Rooster says, leaning back to meet your eyes over Millie’s shoulder. “He went in to get some extra work done and thought it would be easier.”

If the lie weren’t so terribly obvious, Rooster’s face would’ve betrayed him. The man is not a master of deception. He can’t pull it off. You suppose that bodes well for Millie, if he would ever dare tell her an untruth. Not that you can imagine a situation where he would. 

Millie’s nerves wipe from her face at her boyfriend’s explanation, and you almost snort from how cute they are. They operate as their own little team, supporting and backing their partner up to keep the other from falling. Whether they succeed in their mission, like trying to convince you Jake is busy, is another thing. 

Your little red-headed friend transforms back into her giddy self. “Right, so he asked us to come get ya,” she says with a wink.

Now that, you do believe. Jake may not want to see you, but he wouldn’t leave you stranded. And as disappointing as it is to see Rooster’s truck instead of the one you perfer, you know it’s not enough to convince you to give up on your end goal. With your plan thwarted, you only gain more time to figure out exactly how you’re going to bring up what you want to tell Jake.

—

You’ve decided Sundays are the best days. Sundays are easy days. They are days set aside for relaxing, where you can spend twenty-four hours in your home with only a robe wrapped around your body and not be judged. Many stores are closed on Sundays, the gift shop included, and most people don’t work, Jake included. And Jake Seresin, though not the type to sit around, does allow himself the mornings of Sundays to be what he would normally consider lazy. 

When you first moved in, you didn’t love this habit of his. Knowing no one but him and knowing no place but the apartment meant you didn’t do anything or see anyone else. He had you locked in with him for at least three hours before he met his team at the gym, and he took those three hours very seriously. Most of their minutes he dedicated to being around ta you,lking to you, asking you questions—anything you did, he was there to do it with you. And while it once bugged you a bit, it eventually grew on you. He grew on you. You stopped caring about how he spent his Sunday mornings because your routine and his melded into a comfortable place, and you've had no intentions of disrupting that—until now. 

After forgoing sleep to spend the entire night thinking about Jake, you’re sure you look like hell when you step out of your room and into the living room where he sits. You didn’t think to check yourself in the mirror, and Jake doesn’t acknowledge you in favor of reading his book to confirm or deny your likely-ragged state. 

You don’t care how you look, though. 

You care about pushing yourself forward. 

“Jake?” 

His hum is dismissive, but you don’t hold it against him. You understand his feelings too well, and you accept them. When he was so vulnerable and raw—when he told you something he’d not told even his closest friends—you denied him the same courtesy, and that decision hurt him. He aches. You still see it on his face and in his movements. The way his fingers gripped the book and his shoulders tensed the moment you entered the room. How he pulled his bottom lip inward and trapped it between his teeth and has yet to let it go. 

He’s trying to hide the discomfort your presence causes, and he is doing so well that, as someone with plenty of experience, you’re almost proud. But the act unravels completely when you say, “I trust you.”

His head slowly rises. Then, closing the book and setting it aside, Jake stands from his spot on the couch, brow pinched as if he had not heard you correctly. “What did you say?”

“I trust you,” you repeat. 

One hand settles on his hip as the other goes through his hair. He squeezes his eyes shut in a two-second long blink as if trying to snap himself awake. Lips part, perhaps to say something, anything, but then they seal again. 

Before you lose your nerve, you inhale, exhale, and with a single nod, mutter to yourself a final, “I trust him.” 

Then you spew out everything you’ve kept inside—everything you’ve kept away from him. 

“My parents left me,” you say aloud for the very first time. You try to hold them back, but tears accompany that statement, gathering in the corners of your eyes. “Dad first, when I was nine. Mom when I was fourteen. They left and I don’t know where they are, and I don’t really care, but they disappeared and it…it messed me up. It left me lost, and I learned to let people hurt me because no one showed me anything else. I let people treat me however they want, which most often means attacking the insecure parts of me. I let them call me names and look at me in ways that strip me of my dignity, and I can’t stop it. I don’t stop them.

“When I can’t take it anymore, I leave wherever I am,” you say before pausing to catch your breath. 

Jake doesn’t take the opportunity to speak. He stands there, staring, listening, waiting for you to offer him more. 

“You weren’t that far off at the diner when you said I was trying to live in every beach town for two months before moving on to the next. They haven’t all been beach towns, but there have been many of them and I never stay for long,” you admit. “The minute I have the means, I go. I graduated high school by myself and left my hometown, fell in love with an asshole in the second town and left, got a job at a bar whose drunks found me an easy target, so I left again, and it’s been the same everywhere I’ve landed, again and again and again. People break me down so I find someplace new. You are—” You cut yourself off to reconsider your words, “This is my eleventh new place.” One of those tears breaks free to slide down your cheek. “And I don’t know how long I’m going to last here, but I already hate the thought of leaving.”

Done with your speech, you release a heavy breath.

When Jake looks away from you, it’s a bucket of ice water dumped over your head. Your heart crushes with the realization that you were right. Jake was wrong. Seeing you differently is not as difficult as you had hoped and he had promised. In fact, he doesn’t see you at all anymore because he won’t even give you a glance. You presented the reality that you are unloved and unwanted and explained exactly why that is, and now he has in his hand all of the reasons why others mistreat you, the ability to evaluate those reasons, and decide for himself if those reasons are valid. 

And in that moment, you know you are fucked. You’re about to be lost again. On your own, in the dark, with nothing to hold on to. Not that you didn’t anticipate this coming along eventually, but you would have liked to stick around a little longer. 

Through the blur of tears, you see Jake nod. That’s all. No words, no shift in facial expression; he nods to the floor rather than give you the respect of nodding to your face. He nods again, and then he looks up to meet your gaze. 

Jake’s hands fall from his hips, and in four strides he closes the space keeping you apart, cups your jaw in the heat of his palms, and plants his lips on yours. 

His kiss lands somewhere between hard and soft, between eager and restrained, between needy and downright desperate. And after adjusting to the shock he plunged you into, your mouth begins to move against his. 

Jake is warm, and cozy; he tastes like the one Splenda packet he puts in the oatmeal he occasionally has for breakfast, and it all makes your brain hum in a comfortable delight. You take from him all that he takes from you, and give to him all that he gives you, and in the process, accept that you truly want this and he wants this and that’s all that matters. You’re not working harder to please him than he is working to please you. You’re not thinking about what he will think when your lips separate. You’re not afraid of being a disappointment because were that the case, surely he would have released you by now. But he hasn’t released you. He holds on and pulls closer and doesn’t let go, not even when the kiss breaks.

Thumbs stroke your cheeks as your eyes slowly drag from his swollen lips to his nose to that mossy-green shade you’ve become attached to. There’s a hint of concern in his stare. But then you smile, so he smiles, and the concern fades. 

“Your turn,” you whisper.

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @cehenyne @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @emma8895eb @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @entertainmentgal8 @hookslove1592 @whoeverineedtobe @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things @turtle-in-a-tornado @have-a-nice-day-k @inkandarsenic @kidd3ath

[rkiveinmarvel]

anatomy of hands and sake - roronoa zoro. (18+) des. angst-fluff-smut, wano arc. zoro finally woke up after the fight with big mom and kaido--he missed you. porn with plot. clothed sex. make up sex. unprotected sex (practice safe sex ppl) marking and biting>; soft sex, established relationship. soft!dom zoro, people being inlove, aftercare!! nsfw

notes. my propaganda: soft!zoro is canon zoro-again this contains smut (minors dni, pls) zoro big cock energy, mentions of wounds and stitches. F! Reader

hello. i had this idea for a while and yeah, here it is. it's my first time writing smut so, bear with me--n e way he might be ooc here but zoro is zoro and iluvhim. hiyori is mention as well tho-no hate to hiyori-luv that girl--livelaughlovemarimo

w.c: 3k (damn, zoro)

The infamous swordsman of the Straw Hat is known for his ability to stand his ground in any battle and situation, with one foot in front of him–he doesn’t hesitate to draw his sword if someone pisses off the crew. Saints forbid those who pissed off the swordsman because he will show no mercy and no hesitation, until it’s the captain’s orders—and an order from you.

            It’s no secret that you and the straw hats were once against each other in the fight at skypiea but that fight is the fight Zoro hesitated to hold his sword—maybe because he’s finally facing a right hand of the so-called god or maybe you were fighting against your will or maybe—just maybe—he didn’t want to hurt you. He still remembers how you gripped your sword with such anger and shouting at them to leave the island to protect themselves—call it a warning or a sign but at that moment, Zoro wanted to save you; he was glad he did.

            That was two years ago and here you are now waiting Zoro to wake up from his slumber after fighting Kaido and Big Mom. You reached for the damp towel as you wiped his worn-out body and slow heaving chest—Zoro looked peaceful when he sleeps, he always does, but moments like this you wish you can just see him working out at the crow’s nest, hear him argue with the cook, look out for Chopper, or just seat and listen to you.

            This is what you hate the most every time a battle ended, the silence of waiting, hoping, and wishing that all of the crew members are okay—the unwanted fast paced heartbeat as you wished for them to be okay. You sighed deeply as you caressed Zoro’s face and continue to wipe his cheeks and dance your fingertips in his hair.

            “Please, wake up…” You whispered lowly as you stare at this sleeping state and replace his old bandages with new ones. Once you finished cleaning him up—a small smile left your lips as you kissed his forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

            Morning after morning, the green-haired swordsman and the future king of the pirates are still asleep—with no luck, you decided to spend the night looking out for the two; which Chopper didn’t agree at first, but as Chopper felt the tiredness catching up in his body—he agreed.

            Then, it was a week: a week of looking out for the two whilst also switching watching duties with the straw hat; but most of the time: you stayed there not wanting to switch with Sanji nor Nami as you hold Zoro’s hand muttering and wishing that he should wake up.

--

            Usopp rushes in the hallway and knocked on the room where you stayed—with a loud voice he announced that Zoro and Luffy are awake. You two immediately rush into the room—your pounding heartbeat and the ringing in your ear didn’t stop you—he’s awake, Zoro is awake—you kept on repeating on your head—the two of them are alive and okay.

            Hesitation floods in your mind as you stood by the door but soon was replaced when you hear cheers and a familiar laugh coming out from the room—as Usopp opened the door: there you saw him and Luffy.

            You didn’t know when or how but Chopper was clinging and trying to stop Zoro as he chugs a huge bottle of sake. A smile escaped your lips as Luffy called your name in such glee, with a last chug, Zoro finally locked eyes with you: saints, he missed you. You gave him a relieved smile but somehow covered when Hiyori placed a bottle of sake in front of him in which he groaned. He moved the sake aside and watched you talk to Luffy—he should speak to you­­—but before he can speak, he felt hands of Hiyori creeping from behind.

            “You were out for a week.” Brook explained as he drank and ate next to the crew.

            “We aren’t dirty though.” Zoro stated as he eyed his hands.

            “I cleaned you up.” Hiyori announced from behind him, earning a choke from Yamato, as Yamoto looks at you, as you catch his look—you chuckled in your cup as you drank sake. As Sanji and Zoro banters about Hiyori—you laughed at the sight—everything is okay, Wano is free, the crew are laughing, and Zoro is okay.

            “We should have the banquet, today!” Momonosuke announces.

            ---As the entire people cheers, Zoro locked eyes with you once again, as you raised a cup signaling him for a cheer in which he nodded and gave you a cheeky smirk. For the time being, Nami have decided to take a bath, inviting you, Robin, Hiyori, and the others as well.

            You leave the room as the boys continue to drink and eat—that until Zoro noticed that you’re no longer in the room he’s in—he stood up and left the room while also removing the bandages on his body because it restricts his movement as he walked.

--

            You were preparing for the bath when you entered your room until you felt a familiar arm holding you from behind. It didn’t make you flinch nor scared, somehow, it comforted you. You hummed at the person who’s hugging you from behind.

            You felt his chest on your back he holds you tighter. “You left early.”

            “Nami invited us for a bath.”

            “You didn’t talk to me.”

            “You were busy drinking.”

            He then let you go from his grasp and hold your shoulder to make you look at him. “Thanks for cleaning me up.” You smiled softly as you eyed him.

            “Hiyori did.” I teased innocently.

            “She did but you did it every day…”

            “How can you say so?” He then holds your hand and placed it on his cheeks. “I know how your hand feels when you hold me, woman.”

            As he placed your hand on your cheeks—he leaned in at the contact. “I’ve missed you, Zo.” You whispered lowly as you pulled him into an embrace, you settled in his chest as you listen to his heartbeat, beating pretty fast.

            He hummed as you said those words as he fiddled with the strand of your hair as you hugged him. “That was pretty dumb, you know.”

            That left him confused. “Law and Sanji told me what happened—that was dumb, Zoro.” He pulled away from the hug and noticed that some tears are threatening to fall from your eyes.

            He wiped them away as he waited you to continue what you’re about to say. “You almost died.” In that moment, his heartbeat begins to beat faster: you were that worried.

            “That was dumb because the way Law told me, it seems like you were ready to die---”

            “I wanted to protect Luffy and you—”

            His heart breaks as you shook your head. “Protect yourself too. I know you care about the crew but I don’t want to face this again—the fear of you not waking up, like in Thriller Bark? I know you don’t want to lose anyone but—I don’t want to lose you too.” Your hand shakes as you cup his cheeks again.

            He grips your wrist and gave your wrist a ghost kiss, uttering a soft whisper that he can only hear. As he kissed your wrist, he just stared at you. He kissed your hand, fingertips; he kept staring at you.

            As he looked at you with a soft gaze, he pulled you closer to him.

            “I’m sorry.” He only follows Luffy’s orders but—somehow, even you’re not the captain—he follows you. “I’ll get stronger so, you won’t feel like you will lose me again.” He kissed your temples and wiped your tears, as you nodded.

            He stared at you for a while and his eyes lingered in your lips. Without a warning, he placed his lips into yours as you taste the sake he drunk from before. He hummed in your lips as you reciprocate the kiss, he placed his hand on your nape as he was eager to pull you closer to him if that was possible, while your hands roam around his body.

            His chest, neck, abdomen, arms, and biceps—it was explored by you—he pulled away as he settles his lips on your neck muttering your name while he does. Your hand fumbles his hair, as you hold him closer. He kisses and left marks on your neck, while indulge himself with your scent.

            You tilted your head as you gave him more space as his hand traveled in your kimono, pulling it down softly. He pulled away from your neck as his hand travels in your kimono—slowly untying its knot. He whispered your name as low as he could: “Can I…?”

            Your hand travels into his nape as you nod. “Use your words, doll.”

            “Yes…Zo.” You hummed as he let his hand let loose of the knots in your kimono. “I fucking missed you.” He whispered lowly as his lips travel from your neck towards your collarbone.

            “I was just here, Zo.” You felt goosebumps as his hand travels every inch of your body. As his breaths shallows and his lips relaxes on your collarbone and chest. You whimpered his name so low; he’s the only person hearing it. He let his clothes fall on the floor as he lay you down on the futon. But he clicks his tongue as he felt a sharp pain on his chest in which you immediately pulled away.

            “We don’t have to---” He stared at you with flushed cheeks and half lidded eyes: as his eyes travels at everything that is you, he groaned and shook his head as he grabbed you by the hips switching your positions—making you straddle him. He smirked as he saw you on top of him with pride as he pulled you down for a kiss.

            “I fucking want you.” He holds your hips as he moved you in a rhythm. He hummed as you gasped at the pace. “Been looking for you when I woke up.” You felt him so close, despite the small clothes keeping you two apart.

            “You sure it wasn’t the sake?” You teased as you stopped your hips.

            “Take it off…” He whimpered.

            You never thought for a million of years that the pirate hunter would whimper under you—in hearing his plea: you take everything off your body including his: for a moment, the world seemed to stop as your hand travels into his new wounds. Your hand shakes as you saw new stitches.

            Before you can say anything—he grabbed your hand that was tracing his new wounds. “Eyes up here, doll.” He said into your fingertips—but unknown emotion filled you as your lips find his wounds, you carefully kiss them as blush continue to travel around Zoro’s body.

            “Oi…” He continues to repeat as you kiss his wounds. His gaze locks into you as you kissed him on his lower abdomen. He gave you a knowing look: “Come kiss me, woman.”

            So, you did. His hand travels into your clit as he continues to kiss you—as he pulled away: he stared at your expression whilst you stare at him, breathless, blushing mess, and muttering his name every chance you get. As he finds the right time to slip his finger inside you and it made you gasp. “Fuck—so, fucking warm.” He whispered in your ear as his fingers continues to mark your inside.

            He was slow in pace as if he was memorizing your sound, voice, expression, and your look. He kissed your temple as he feels you tightening up. “Great job…baby.” There are times where he lets himself be vulnerable and call you names, he thought he would never use.

            But as your hips meet his hands—he groaned as he moved his hand in a pace where you find yourself gripping his biceps—with one last move, you came undone into his hand as he kissed your temple; “My girl…” he whispered as he felt you shiver in his touch—he pulled his hand away and he kisses his hand while staring at you.

            You smiled and kissed him in his lips: tasting yourself in his mouth. “Better than any sake…” He whispered with a smirk as he continues to kiss your lips. He stared at you as his hand take hold of your hips once more as you aligned yourself into him—he slides his cock between your folds, he felt warm and you felt full.

            “Relax…” You didn’t know how or why or maybe because of the orgasm you had earlier but at the same time he felt bigger. As you settle into his cock, you stayed there as he looks at you. “Babe…” He called you like a prayer—without saying anything, you knew what he wanted. He flipped your over so, he’s now on top of you.

            “I got you—relax, doll.” He whispered in your ear as he stared at you. You pulled him for a kiss as he moves his body to meet yours. “Move…” He takes a short and slow thrust while he stared at your expression which let a small and deep growl out of him.

            As his impatient character caught up to him—he starts to get faster; your head thrown against the futon as you moan his name is if that’s the only word you know. Your hands find his shoulder as you pulled him closer. You’re too perfect for him, your walls were made for him—he finds your neck as he continues to suck and bite on it as you hold onto his shoulder as his make your inside fit for him and only him. At this moment, your name was the only thing leaving his mouth as breathless pleas, whimpers, sound of skin, and moans left the room—tears were stinging in your eye, Zoro noticed it he stopped with the fear that maybe he was hurting you but—it’s different, he saw your tears and you were smiling, you pulled him again for a hug but this time your hips met his. “I really thought I lost you.” You whispered in your embrace.

            That was his call—he holds you’re his hips as your legs wrapped around his waist—as his name left your mouth in a high-pitched whimper; he leaned in and kiss you once more. As he felt your walls claiming his cock again—he knew you were close and so was he; he reaches for your clit and move it with his thrust—without a second, you’re bound for the second orgasm from the hands of the swordsman. Your legs tighten up at his waist, as you arch your back and you feel yourself shakes. Your walls tighten around him as you keep saying his name.

            As you keep saying his name, Roronoa leaned in and kissed your shoulder—for a moment, he swore, he wants to keep you like this; only like this. He fills you up with his cock as his bite into your shoulder; he twitched inside—but he didn’t pull out, reliving and enjoying the warmth settling inside you. His heaving chest and your breathless state; you stared at each other.

            When you two catch your breaths, he pulls out as the both of you hiss at the loss contact. He kissed your inner thighs, chest, hand, head, and lips: uttering a thank you. His hand caress your inner thighs softly, as he kisses your temple over and over again.

            Before you can say anything—he leans down and kisses your lips as you smiled at the kiss. “Still better than sake?” You teased at his kiss.

            He nodded and kissed you deeper. “Still better.” You noticed that one of his stitches on his biceps were getting red—you’re scared that he can get infection— but he just laughed and pulled you into his chest. “I’ll get Chopper to check on it—in the meantime, let’s stay here.” His hands play on your hair as you listen to his heartbeat.

            “I was supposed to be in the bath with Nami.”

            “Hmmm…You could’ve push me away.”

            “You’re lucky that I like you.”

            “I know.” He nodded as he heaved a deep sigh. “Robin told me you didn’t went to sleep, when you’re looking out for me while I was out—don’t do that again, okay, doll?”

            “Just promise me you won’t get yourself killed.” He nodded as he placed your hand on his chest and gently kiss it.           

            “You always kiss my hand…why is that?”

            “I just like it. My hands are like filled with wounds and yours are soft, warm…” He kissed it again. “Mine…” He whispered. “You always hold me so softly.” He admitted.

            You looked at him as you rest your chin on his chest. “Any person should be hold softly and nicely.” He chuckled and shook his head. “With these wound and the swords, I highly doubt I’ll be considered as a person.”

            “What makes you think that…?” You frown.

            “I’m a monster, woman, so, sometimes it surprises me that you stay—"

            “Why do you think you’re a monster?” This time you sat up—he looked at you with a surprise look on his face a parallel to your caring look as his eyes travels on the marks he left in your body; he placed his hand on your shoulder.

            “I don’t see any monster.” You hold his hand that is placed on his shoulder. He always kisses your hand—so, this time, you kissed his.

            “I only see the person that I love.” You kissed his hand, in a delicate manner—as if he was a porcelain glass, a gift from above; he felt his eyes sting as he cleared his throat fighting the blush trying to settle on his cheek.

            “The things you me feel woman—The things you make me feel.” He muttered as he pulled you down for a kiss. You smiled at the kiss as he places his hands on your cheeks, without a sign or a signal; he muttered those three words and eight letters with a small tint of blush on his cheeks.

            “I love you too, Roronoa.”

-- FIN

holy shit--my first ever smut; if it sucks--i'm sorry :,> zoro the man that you are! trafalgar law is next and it's fluff--wano arc has me gripping all story ideas lmaooo

⚘ masterlist 1 | 2 | 3

[anantaru]

cw. none, gn! reader, selfcare day with alhaitham <3

"aww, come on baby, you look great!"

"i do not." alhaitham insists and maybe he didn't, and maybe, you were a little evil for practically forcing him to wear a pink, with gems tapestried, bunny headband to successfully get rid of all the loose bangs pending around his forehead.

"trust me, you do!"

you squeeze back an amused grin and in return, offer him a witty glance over your shoulder, a small innocent pout twining on your lips, it made him almost jump out of his shoes— how can someone be so sharp tongued and adorable at the same time? he wonders.

"come on alhaitham, you promised!" you scoot closer, excited, "that's not my problem." he corrects you and this time, draws back the almost embarrassing ornament on top of his head and pushes it into a much better allaying position, taking heavy aim on the flimsy hair piece to get his point across, "but why must i wear this?"

alhaitham furrows his brows when you brush the conversation off and back paddle, "but you look so pretty and it serves as a higher purpose." eventually, he sighs in defeat, barely, and your lips quirk up into sheer entertainment by how clearly unimpressed he appeared— though, don't get him wrong— he still wouldn't get rid of the hair piece, because in all sincerity, he'd do anything you'd ask him to do or participate in.

it's the fact that whenever he agrees, whenever he gets out of his comfort zone to try out and experience new things with you, he can't tear his eyes off the happiness embodied on your face, on each crevice and nestle— your sweet smiles, your voice a tilt higher, barely perceivable in the faint heave of your utters, yet alhaitham distinguished your change in mannerism promptly. you're so cute and genuinely happy— this particular picture of you carved itself into his hearts deepest core, alhaitham wishes to cradle those memories forever.

you're everything and all— and he had vowed to love you as long as the sun would burn across the illuminated sky of sumeru, as long as the moon would shine its eminent light into the pitched darkness over the rainforests.

"now!" you dramatically point out, face lit up and snapping your fingers against his face, "to the beauty masks!"

oh, well, he's doomed.

you fling forward a small container from behind your back, watching how his eyes crinkle in confusion, lifting up a brow. "what will this do?" blinking at your hand, alhaitham reaches over to get a closer look but instead you beckon him to lay down.

"you'll see!" assurance was key, you affirmed, and you seat yourself as close as possible to alhaitham when he silently opens his arm for you, twisting around your hips to press you into him. quickly, you spin open the container to show him a neutral colored substance inside of it. "what did i do to deserve this?" he speaks sarcastically but so painfully monotone that if you weren't actually familiar with him, you'd never guess he's not being serious right now.

you plant a gentle kiss on his forehead to soothe his worries, "i just want to spoil you, dear acting grand sage." and he rolls his eyes at the silly nickname, well, it's not a nickname, it's his title if anything but whenever you said it, whenever you purposefully spill it past his ears like that— laced in a whisper, a pleasing one at that, you'll notice how a blurred redness crosses both his pale cheeks and the tip of his ears.

his heart skips a beat, you're so diligently badgering him that he wonders if you ever get tired of it, at all, "—okay, i'll be ignoring that name calling from now on." he hisses, your ability to just read him like that, be aware on what to do to get him to this current state of mind was a small amount of frightening, only miniscule though.

"why?" you innocently pout with your lips cutely pursed up while carefully applying the face mask on his forehead and t-zone with your fingers, "i like how you look at me whenever i say it." alhaitham focuses on your words, and his eyes, they never let go of surveying over your frame— perceptibly, each touch and trace of you, although being used to it, makes him shiver regardless.

you're radiating pure warmth and pleasantries he longs for, every smile, every laugh and touch, and you somehow become even more beautiful in his mind— alhaitham found it to be a distinguished miracle of some sort, ground breaking, or maybe it was fate after all that brought you together.

"how do i look at you?"

he originally preferred to bury the direction this conversation was setting sail to, but he can notice himself soften into you, together with the sickly sweet scent of the mask on his face— brown sugar mixed with plants from the rainforests, spilling into his nostrils with such gentleness, fragile emotions fermenting within him like an electric tempest rivaling those of inazumas.

"—a little flustered." you coo, tracing the settling substance above his jaw, "and shy."

alhaitham sighs, "is that so?" and runs his fingers over your back, up and down, up and down, yet closing his eyes for a transient moment, a soft exhale following suit next.

ugh, you were such a pain, really. he smiles to himself.

but somehow, just somehow, you both were simply meant for each other after all, no ifs and certainly no buts.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[urlibragirl]

summary : you and eren were childhood friends, but you guys drifted apart. One day, Eren decide to stick the pieces back.

warnings/content : mdni!, fem!reader, jealous!eren, eren is a virgin, little bit of angst, p in v intercourse, unprotected sex, oral sex(m receiving)

word count : 1271

Sighing heavily, Eren rubbed his forehead as he tried to recall the events leading up to your falling out. You guys had been inseparable during childhood, always playing together and sharing secrets. But somewhere along the line, things changed. 

He remembered the day clearly, it was after Jean had joined your group of friends. There was something different about you, you seemed happier, more confident. And yet, at the same time, she seemed distant too. Like there was part of herself that kept hidden even from him.

Grinning widely, you clapped your hands excitedly as you talked to your friends about the tv-show you watched the night before. Your laugh echoed through the hallways, drawing attention from everyone around you.

You may have been known for being somewhat wild and carefree, but there was no denying that people enjoyed being around you. Even though Eren preferred quieter gathering, he couldn’t help but admire your ability to light up any room you entered. Watching you interact with others made your heart ache just a little bit more. 

He wished things could go back to how they used to be, but he knew that ship had sailed long ago. Instead, he forced himself to focus on his studies, hoping that one day he might finally gain control over his feelings. Little did he know, your paths were destined to cross again under unexpected circumstances.

One fateful evening during winter break, Armin hosted a party at his place which included most members of their original friendship circle. Despite initially declining due to personal reasons, Eren eventually caved in under pressure from Mikasa and Jean who insisted he needed some time off studying. Reluctantly agreeing, he arrived at Armin’s house.

As the night wore on and the party reached its peak, Eren found himself drawn to you, despite the animosity that had grown between you two over the years. With a determined stride, he made his way through the crowd until he stood in front of you, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Hey," he said, trying to keep his voice casual despite the butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

You glanced at him, “Oh, hey Eren,” you answered “It’s been a long time.”

You guys stood in awkward silence for a moment, the weight of your unresolved issues hanging heavy in the air.

“Look, I didn’t mean to ignore you or act like a jerk. It’s just that seeing you with Jean made me realize how much I missed having you around. We were best friends since forever, and suddenly, you were gone. I tried to move on, but my heart wouldn’t listen. So yeah, maybe I acted immaturely sometimes, but deep down, I was hurting too.” 

Your eyes widened in surprise as you listened to Eren pouring his heart out. You hadn’t expected such honesty from him. For once, he sounded vulnerable instead of aloof. “There’s also something I need to tell you,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper. “Something I’ve been wanting to say for quite a while now…” You paused for effect, taking a deep breath before continuing.

“The truth is, I’m in love with you. From the moment we met all those years ago, I knew there was something special between us. And as time went by, that feeling only grew stronger.” you finally said.

“But what about Jean?” Eren asked with a surprised tone. “Oh, with Jean it wasn’t anything serious,” you said. “It’s going to sound horrible but both of us needed someone to forget about the friend they were in love with, me with you and him with Mikasa, but apparently it wasn’t really effective”

“So why didn’t you say something?” he asked. “Well, I could ask the same thing to you Eren?” you answered, teasing him a little bit.

“I guess I was just scared,” he admitted sheepishly. “ Afraid that maybe you really had moved on without me – I’ve missed you Y/N,” he confessed, his voice shaking. “More than you’ll ever know”.

As your faces drew closer, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of intense emotion. Your hearts raced in unison, beating wildly against your chests as you prepared yourselves for whatever laid ahead.  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, your lips met in a tender, passionate kiss.

It was as if all the pent-up frustration and sorrow from your tumultuous past had suddenly vanished, replaced by a powerful wave of desire and affection. Time stood still as you were both lost in the moment, savoring every second of your long-awaited reunion. 

When you guys finally pulled apart, you gazed into each other's eyes, lost in the depths of each other's souls. "I love you, Eren," you whispered, your voice shaking slightly with emotion. "And I love you too, Y/N," he replied, his voice equally strained.

As your lips parted, Eren found himself struggling to catch his breath. This was new territory for him; he had never experienced such intense passion before. He looked into your eyes, wondering if she felt the same way. 

To his relief, he saw a mix of lust and tenderness reflected back at him. Gently guiding you towards the nearby bedroom, he led you inside and closed the door behind you. The room was dimly lit, casting eerie shadows across the walls. 

Undressing each other slowly, you were revealed in the sight of each other's naked forms for the first time. Despite being a virgin, Eren couldn't hide his excitement or nervousness. You sensed his apprehension and decided to take charge. 

Kneeling down beside him, you ran your hands up his thighs, stopping just short of his erection. Looking into his eyes, you gave him a reassuring smile before taking him into your mouth. Eren let out a moan as you teased him expertly, sucking gently on his cock while running your tongue along its length. 

Overwhelmed by pleasure, he reached down to touch your hair, encouraging you to continue. As you worked him over with your skilled tongue, he couldn't help but wonder how lucky he was to have found someone like you. 

Meanwhile, you moved up to straddle Eren's lap, grinding your hips against him suggestively. You wanted this to be special for him, and you intended to make sure it was. Slowly lowering yourself onto his hardened member, you gasped as you felt him slide inside your wet folds. It was tighter than he expected, but in a good way. 

You began moving up and down, meeting his thrusts halfway as you both sought release. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the air, punctuated by gasps of pleasure from both parties involved. Eren grabbed hold of your hips, pulling you closer as he buried himself deeper inside your warmth with each stroke. 

Your rhythm became faster and more urgent as you neared climax. Just when it felt like neither of you could take another moment, you both cried out in ecstasy, your bodies shuddering together as you reached orgasm simultaneously.

"Oh god," Eren groaned, his voice hoarse from exertion. "That was incredible." He pulled you closer, burying his face in your neck as he savored the scent of your skin. "I don't think I've ever felt anything like that before." You smiled contentedly, tracing gentle circles on his back. "Oh don’t worry, we're just getting started." 

With renewed energy, you two began exploring each other's bodies once more, lost in the heat of the moment. Every touch sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, heightening your senses and deepening your connection. 

a/n : i wrote this at 2 a.m, so there might be grammar mistakes sorry