#the title for the doc is

[ao3-crack]

(x)

[parisoonic]

🌇

- Comfort food colour sketch done inbetween meetings - inspired by a frame from Nimona

[cryptcoop]

Just as awkward and bony as he remembers

[waxcloth-din]

I can't believe I failed outta medical school for this.

[theminecraftbee]

so i have a youtube extension to sort my subscriptions into their own categories, and one of them is all the hermits i'm subscribed to. and i am only consistently actually watching iskall, tango, and cleo atm, but i am subscribed to all the hermits. which means i get to see their episode titles and thumbnails and try to guess what they're doing. all of which is to say: etho, what on earth is bamboo frog storage,

[andromeddog]

bastogne

[roronoacherries]

𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝘳𝘰𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘢 𝘻𝘰𝘳𝘰

2.258 words

content: fluff, sfw, light angst, fem. reader, established relationship, reader can't look at zoro without a hint of fear in her eyes after he saves her from an enemy.

note: this is a little more straw hat fluff than it is zoro fluff?

you wanted to pretend that it didn’t faze you. 

it shouldn’t have. zoro was gentle and loving and kind-hearted. you knew this well enough. better than anyone, you understood that there was more to the swordsman than his unwavering, tough demeanor. there was no reason for you to feel afraid with him — much less, any reason for you to be afraid of him. 

and yet, lately, you couldn’t quite meet his eyes. you couldn’t help being jumpier around him than you wanted to be. and you found yourself avoiding him without meaning to. 

all he had done was protect you. you would have been dead if he hadn’t stepped in. but rather than thank him, your reaction had been to cower and step into sanji’s arms instead of his. it wasn��t fair to him and you knew it but the image of the swordsman, eyes crimson with rage, was something you couldn’t erase from your mind. the expression on his face had been one that could kill; it was one that made you understand that he would kill. without a second thought, if it meant protecting you. and that had terrified you. 

it shouldn’t have unsettled you like it did. you were pirates for god's sake! you hadn’t exactly expected him to be a saint, nor could you claim to be one. you had no right to be this cold toward him now. he was still the zoro you knew — the one you loved like you didn’t realize you could — you’d simply seen a different side of him; you’d seen a side of him that told you the lengths to which he would go to keep you safe. 

you loved him endlessly… but you needed time before you could meet his eyes without recalling the terror you’d felt then. 

and the swordsman understood. he didn’t blame you for your reaction, but he didn’t know how to mend things either. all he could do was wait for it to pass. all he could do was give you space. that was what he told himself but all he wanted to do was hold you in his arms and make you feel okay. 

the best he could do was keep his distance, though without straying too far. it didn’t matter to him if you saw him as a monster, he’d stay close enough to be there if you needed him, keeping out of your way while still keeping an eye on you. 

and although he conceals it well, it isn’t lost on anyone that zoro’s hurting too. he minds his own, not quite avoiding anyone but not quite present either. not even the cook’s blatant and shameless flirting is enough to provoke a reaction from him; and despite their rivalry, sanji can’t stand to see the swordsman so apathetic. 

none of the crew can, but they know there’s not anything more he can do but be patient with you; as much as they all want to help – to advise zoro and to comfort you – they all know what you need is time.

although it doesn’t keep them from trying. 

chopper takes it upon himself to cure zoro’s ailment the only way he can think to: keeping him company. he bothers the swordsman with a dozen different things, keeping him occupied and trying his best to lighten his mood, but his attempts are fruitless. nothing could quite erase the trace of melancholy in zoro’s expression. 

nami is the only other to try and pull some semblance of genuine emotion from zoro in the way she knows best — picking a fight with him. if there’s anything the navigator is an expert at (besides everything — for a price), it’s chastising the boys. 

“you’re too intense,” she scolded and despite her tone, zoro knew she meant it as comfort. not that knowing made it annoy him any less. she kept talking and zoro let her, not quite listening but not quite ignoring her either. 

“you lose your cool at the drop of a hat sometimes, it’s no wonder y/n is as shaken up as she is. you’ve gotta learn to keep your calm.” nami’s words were nonchalant and her eyes were no longer on the swordsman; she knew well enough that her words would go in one ear and out the other regardless. 

and though zoro knew that he would only be proving her right, that he should bite his tongue and acknowledge that maybe nami was right, he lost his temper anyway, raising his voice at the navigator a little more than he’d intended to. “how the fuck am i meant to stay calm if y/n’s in trouble?”

everyone’s eyes turned to the swordsman but he could care less about what they might think. “i don’t give a shit how she feels,” he spat, knowing as well as everyone else that this was a lie. 

“i’d do the same thing again if i had to, without a second thought.” 

i’d do anything for her. 

“even if it means she never speaks to me again.”

despite chopper’s insistence that he rest, despite the wounds on his body that ached with every move he made, zoro left to work out, though not before warning everyone to leave him alone. and while chopper’s words ring in his head, knowing well that his body needed to rest, he’d rather feel the pain of his injuries than think of you. 

the rest of the crew tried to meddle comfort you however they could. 

luffy tried (and succeeded) to bring a smile to your face with his endless antics, usopp joining in. the two went out of their way to pull a laugh out of you. teasingly, your captain made it a point to remind you of the clueless, disoriented fool roronoa zoro could be through theatrical reenactments of the swordsman’s habits and mannerisms. “how can you be scared of an idiot like that?” luffy giggled. 

he balanced himself on the ship’s railing, crouching as he looked down at you with a contagious grin. you wanted to tell him to be careful, but you knew your words would go ignored. 

“besides. i’d ‘ve done the same thing if i was in his place,” he said, teetering on the railing and it takes everything in you not to shout at him. playfully, he questioned you, “would you really be scared of me too, y/n?”

“i’m scared that you’ll fall. luffy, please get down from there.”

giggling, the captain sways a little more before hopping down and you let out a sigh of relief. and though he doesn’t bother to pull a response out of you, his question still sticks with you. 

sanji had said the same thing as you helped him with the kitchen chores, busying yourself in a helpless attempt to push the swordsman out of your mind. you dried the dishes as sanji washed them, a comfortable silence sitting between the two of you. 

and while sanji knew well that you’d offered to help him because you wanted a distraction, he couldn’t help but question you, his gentle voice breaking the silence. softly, being careful not to make it sound like he thought you were reacting unreasonably, the cook asked, “is there a reason this has you so shaken up, my dear?” 

you dried the last dish without looking up at sanji, who’d turned his back to the sink, a cigarette quick to find its way to his lips. “i don’t know…” you whispered. you were being honest; you’d given that question significant thought already, but you weren’t quite sure why this was bothering you like it was.

“you know…” sanji started, lighting the cigarette between his teeth. “any of us would have done the same thing in his shoes. if that idiot went a little too far, it was because of how much he cares, y/n,” it felt strange to defend the swordsman so forwardly, but it was true. “he’d never forgive himself if something happened to you, especially not if he could do something about it.” 

all you could do was nod, your eyes staring vacantly at the dishes in front of you. sanji held a hand to your shoulder in comfort. “and…pardon my language, sweet y/n, but if that idiot hadn’t done what he did, i’d have kicked his ass.”

“thank you, sanji.” you smiled up at the cook. he returned the smile, whispering one last thing before heading for the door. “if you still can’t keep the mosshead off your mind, at least help yourself to a treat. i made your favorite for dessert tonight if you’d like to sneak a bite…”

no amount of sweets could be enough to make you feel any better (but it was worth the try). it helps, though, that nami and usopp find you wallowing at the kitchen counter and join you. these two admit to understanding perfectly what you felt; they agree that zoro, along with sanji and luffy, could be a monstrous trio when need be. it’s pure insanity and utterly terrifying that they’re as strong as they are, even when you’re not on the receiving end of their fury. 

“but they’re a trio of idiots, too,” nami reasoned. “i know it’s easy to forget when you see them like that, but everything they do is out of loyalty… and love.” 

“she's right,” usopp chimes in. “they’re beastly monsters, but they’re our beastly monsters. it’s like having pet guard dogs. they might bite someone’s hand off but never yours… ‘cept maybe luffy.” 

there’s truth to all of their words; you know this. and it helps. although you don’t forget the fear you felt in that moment, you don’t forget all of the love you feel for that big green-haired idiot either. still, you find yourself skipping dinner to avoid him a little longer — perhaps, more from guilt than any lingering fear. 

you lie in bed instead, your eyes staring at the ceiling as you think over your crewmates’ words and try to make sense of your own ceaseless thinking. you hardly notice the sound of the door until robin’s voice meets your ears.

“the stars are quite beautiful tonight,” she smiles and you know, without her needing to say much else, that this is her way of helping you clear your mind. 

“thank you, robin,” you whisper, as you reach for a thin blanket to take with you on deck. 

and robin is right; the sight of the stars shining above the going merry is enough to take your breath away. their light alone lightens the weight on your shoulders, a reminder that your existence is small and your problems are too. and that doesn’t make them unimportant, but it does make them easier to bear. 

you notice too, though, that robin didn’t send you up here to look at the sky; she wanted you to notice what was under the starlight. his eyes are fixed on the stars above, hands resting behind his head as he laid on the upper deck. 

he notices you without needing to look, catching a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye. you’re frozen where you stand until you see him sit up, turning his back to you, ready to leave and give you your space but the sound of your footsteps stops him. 

he’s not sure why but he shuts his eyes as he hears you approach; a part of him knows it’s to keep himself from getting his hopes up, too afraid to let himself believe that you might let him hold you in his arms again and he might finally be able to get some sleep — not that he’d admit aloud that he can’t quite sleep without you close to him anymore. 

it’s not until he feels your arms wrap around him and your head rest against his back that the swordsmen lets himself exhale. but the sense of relief is short-lived, as he feels something damp his shirt and it pains him to think that you might be crying. 

he struggles to find the right words to say, scared he’ll say the wrong thing and you’ll pull away, but ultimately it’s you who speaks first. “i’m sorry.”

you whisper, your words muffled against his back and he’s certain he must’ve misheard because what could you possibly have to apologize for. 

and it’s then that he knows exactly what to say to you. “shut up.

“what could you possibly have to say sorry for?” his hand searches for yours and as he holds it, he realizes just how deeply he’s missed having you close. “i’m the one who should be apologizing to you.”

all you can think to do is hold him tighter, but the swordsman pulls away. he turns to you and when his eyes meet yours, there’s no longer any trace of fear and zoro couldn’t be more grateful for it. 

he lies back on the deck again, this time with you wrapped in his arms. the weight of his arms around you makes you feel safer than anything and there isn’t anywhere else you’d rather be. after all, roronoa zoro would go to any lengths to protect you. resting your head in the crook of his neck, you can’t help but whisper another apology. 

“shut up.” the swordsman repeats, his voice almost a whisper but you can hear the smile tugging at his lips nonetheless. he holds you tighter, burying his nose in your hair and breathing in the scent he missed so much. “let me sleep.”

─────────────────────────────

taglist: @zorobraun @maaarshieee @lyriczhou @tinkywinky27 @dimimyth @gaby-chwan @tk6uro @zoros-4th-sword @idiotlittleme @zoronnoa

masterlist | taglist

[playgroundeyes]

chat do you reckon my teachers are collectively sick of seeing MCR lyrics everywhere I've been

[delimeful]

me: wow i wonder why i can never find anything in my files

my files:

[cirr0stratus]

I've heard of ghosts

Good ghosts who wander the battlefield at night

Guiding soldiers out of danger

You can see their omens everywhere

Omens warning of stray bullets and lurking enemies

If I were such a ghost

I would stay so close to you

You could feel my breath on your cheek

[pinkjoongs]

NSFW BELOW - MDNI!!!!!!!

yunho x f!reader

summary: you have a very nice surprise for yuyu after your shower.

genre: smut, slight fluff (?), established relationship. idk it’s just horny

wc: ~950-1000

content and/or warnings: nothing too crazy, kind of domestic?, fingering, implied light overstimulation, cum play if you squint, pet names (baby, slut, princess), dirty talk, reader has a vagina, once again came to me in a vision, may or may not be loosely based on real life, whoops!

likes and reblogs encouraged— thank you for reading!!

NSFW below the cut!!!! — MDNI!!

———

Hopping out of the shower on legs wobblier than a newborn deer, you bid farewell to the shower head after being in there longer than you intended. If you had remembered how strong the water pressure was, maybe you wouldn’t have gotten too lost in the sauce. Cold air slipped in from under the bathroom door, fueling your urgency to move quicker so you could hop into your warm bed.

You made quick work of drying yourself off and mentally patted your own back for bringing pajamas into the bathroom instead of forcing yourself to walk naked through the chilly hallway. Not too much later, you were finally able to throw yourself into bed, landing on top of your boyfriend, who was already half asleep himself.

“Finally,” Yunho huffed, groaning dramatically as he gently rolled you off of him, turning both of you on your sides to spoon you. He was nice and warm, a contrast to the air outside of your shared bed. You couldn’t help but twitch as he wrapped an arm around your torso to pull you closer; if Yunho noticed, he didn’t acknowledge it. “You took forever in there.”

“Sorry,” you choked out, your apology punctuated by the sound of you clearing your throat. “I didn’t think I would.”

Warm breath fanned over the back of your neck, while any conversation Yunho was trying to have with you was no longer processing in your brain. Pressing your thighs together proved to be unhelpful since it only made you slightly jumpy and there was no avoiding the trembling in your sore hips from your shower. You had no idea why you were being so shy right now, but after your date with the detachable shower head you felt like you had accidentally fucked yourself dumb.

Yunho drew lazy circles on your tummy with his fingertips, as every fiber in your being kept you from spasming with every inch his finger slid lower. A gasp tore from your throat as the tip of his middle finger crossed the threshold of your sleep shorts, your legs tensing. Your boyfriend paused.

“Do you want me to stop?” Yunho’s voice was soft, hand slowly retreating and his large palm coming to a stop on your tummy.

“No,” your voice was even softer, and you weren’t sure if Yunho heard you at first. “no. Don’t stop.”

Yunho made a noise of satisfaction, pushing his hand back down your shorts and nudging your thighs wider apart. He wasted no time, not even daring to deny you what you clearly want. When his middle finger finally found the very slippery lips of your cunt, you whimpered.

“Oh? What is this?” You couldn’t see Yunho, but you could hear the teasing smirk in his voice upon noticing your lack of underwear. To make things worse, he wasted zero time sliding his finger around, spreading your cum around your swollen clit. “Is this what took you so long, princess?”

What annoyed you the most was that your boyfriend acted like this was the most common occurrence in the world while you twitched in his arms, panting like a bitch in heat.

Yunho scooted back on the bed, rolling you onto your back to lay next to him. You let him manhandle you, one of your hands pulling him closer by the front of his t-shirt. Hoping to close the gap between you two, you tried to crane your neck up for a kiss. The attempt was futile as Yunho snaked his arm under your back, hand hooking around to wrap around your neck, holding you just out of reach from his lips.

“My pretty little slut,” Yunho gave your throat a small squeeze, finally leaning in just close enough that his lips just brushed against yours as he spoke. His middle and ring fingers were relentless now, swiping your clit back and forth at an antagonizing slow pace. You moaned into his mouth, your other hand gripping the forearm of the arm down your bottoms. “Couldn’t even wait till you got to bed, huh? You’re so fucking wet, fuck.”

Full sentences were suddenly out of your skillset as you shivered and jerked at his ministrations, drool beginning to pool at the corners of your mouth. You could swear that your whole pussy was pulsing at this point.

“Yeah, yeah,” nodding feverishly and whining your boyfriend’s name in a tone slightly more desperate than you intended, your hips weakly bucking up into his palm. “P-please, Yunho.”

“How many times did you cum, princess?” Yunho propped himself up on his elbow and readjusted you in his arms. You keened at the way he inserted his fingers to the first knuckle, seemingly playing around in the wetness of your pussy. His hand squeezed your throat just slightly, mimicking the squeeze around his fingers. “I know you can’t have just one. Tight, slutty pussy. My pretty baby.”

“I-“ your breath quickened, only thinking about the feeling of his fingers against your bare cunt. The memory of using the shower head to rip orgasm after orgasm from your body made you moan. Yunho squeezed your throat in warning, this time a bit tighter. “M-more than five.”

In the dim light, you could see and feel his lips curling up into a teasing grin. Yunho pressed a soft kiss to your lips, then the corner of your mouth. He pulled his fingers from your cunt, moving to your clit to rub the swollen nub tight circles and he swore he could see the moment every single thought in your head slipped away.

Yunho giggled at the way you began to paw at the waistband of your shorts, legs desperately spreading wider for him. A warm, toe-curling feeling began to pool in your stomach, a sign of your approaching orgasm.

“Yeah? Think you can give me one more, princess?”

[souglias]

People Say To Take Things One Step At A Time For A Reason [GINTOKI]

OR: Gintoki makes a dire mistake about you in his drunken state

Gintoki x f!reader

c/w: gintoki has been drinking, alcohol mention, use of pet names (but for humour effect), all fluff no angst :>

word count: 1.2k

note: something I wrote for fun and sheesh finally a fluffy gintoki fic rather than my usual bittersweet fics. For my followers who saw my post about a gintoki multi-chapter fic a while ago, just in case you thought this is it, this is not it. Inspired by this (I couldn't find the image from the original artist's twitter 0-(-( )

All likes and reblogs are appreciated!

-

The phone rings at your bookstore at 1am as you're finishing up some administrative logs. It must be a prank for a call that’s way beyond opening hours. Even if it isn't, you decide you don't want to deal with queries at this time. The phone quietens after 5 rings.

Not long later, the phone starts ringing again. It sounds like urgent business for someone to be calling a bookstore twice in the middle of the night.

"Hello, this is Kabukicho books. How can I help you?"

An all-too-familiar voice comes out from the receiver. His words are slurred and you press the receiver to your ears as you strain to listen to him.

"Heyy, are you free for... dinner?"

"Gintoki. It is long past dinner."

"Dinner is any time after lunch and before breakfast."

"I want to sleep and you should too."

You hear whining from the other end of the phone. "Can't you have at least a parfait with me? We haven't met in a while!"

Is this a secret, roundabout cry for help from him? Coming from the very lips of Gintoki, those words feel like stark yellow paint on a white wall.

Regardless, you are a little concerned he's going to die in a ditch somewhere instead of making it home. Even if he's gotten this drunk multiple times before he called you today. 

He prompts you again with a "hello" before you hear some crashing on the other side.

You suppose once is fine. It is a solid reason to see the person you harbour feelings for. On top of that, he's right that the two of you have not seen each other for a while. And just maybe, it is a sign that he chose to call you out of everyone else.

(Okay but maybe you're just being delusional. Who else he could even call? Kagura would simply smash the ringing phone at this hour. If he calls up the Shimura household, Otae would tell him to die rather than let her younger brother pick him up.)

You sigh, "Where are you now?"

He hums a little before telling you the bar he visited. You pack up your work (that is still 1% unfinished) and head out into the cold winter night to find him. Gintoki should thank his lucky stars that you like him, otherwise, you would have left him to freeze. Almost no one gets to interrupt your work.

You easily find the telephone booth near the bar he patronised. As you approach the telephone booth, you see a scene you find somewhat humorous. He's bent over backwards in the cramped space, face pressed against the clear glass of the booth and feet propped against the other side. His eyes are closed, mouth slightly open with drool.

Taking out your phone, you snap a photo of him before you knock on the door. He's so ridiculously unsightly, but it endears you.

One eye of his cracks open and his lips upturn. You swing the door open and give him an unamused look. That doesn't shake his half-lidded eyes and a wide smile.

"Yo, you pretty thing."

Your heart skips a beat. Gintoki is possessed, or he's lost it. All Gintoki has been calling you is an ugly hag and a shit-faced bitch. To call you pretty is... out of this world.

"You're way too fucking drunk. Get out of there by yourself, I'm not helping you."

As he twists and turns to get himself out of that difficult position, he whines again. "Help me, woman! You can do this little thing for me right?”

Seeing him struggle, you decide to milk this scene. “Well, who am I for you to assume this is ‘little’?”

“My girlfriend.”

You're sure your face is visibly red at this point, and your heart is beating in your throat. You manage to stammer out, "What?"

"You're my girlfriend duh!" He exclaims without an ounce of doubt in his statement.

He's lost it. He's lost it.

"Since when? Huh? Huh? Why was I not informed about this?"

"Huh? Why are you-"

Gintoki freezes and he narrows his eyes at you. It dawns on him that you are not his girlfriend. 

To be precise, he has not asked you to be his girlfriend. 

Suddenly, he's able to stand upright in the phone booth. He remains rooted there, his body turned away from you. What has he done? His heart beats at a thousand per hour and he thinks he might collapse.

"Did you mistake me for a girlfriend or something? Anyway, you should have told us you have one."

He could pretend to black out now. Or maybe he should try to be smooth.

"Well, no... I don't. I just forgot I wasn't in the future, that's all!"

Gintoki timidly looks over his shoulder to check your reaction. From the puzzled look on your face, he fucked it. He doesn't even remember the exact pick-up line if one like this actually existed. Something about a girlfriend but in the future. 

"What are you talking about..."

He averts his gaze again. The obvious way to clarify everything is to be honest with you. It's that easy. It's that easy. But he can't say it. Even in his half-intoxicated state, he feels like he'll keel over saying those three or five words. He did plan to say it some time, but not in this manner.

You watch his broad back slowly shrink inwards, and you hear him mumble something you don't catch. A gut feeling fills your chest. You breathe, slowly regaining your composure. Meanwhile, he decides he should pretend to black out.

"Look, if you wanted me to be your girlfriend, you should have asked me first. I would have said yes. Don't skip steps, please. I'd like some order."

Already amid Operation Pretend-To-Collapse, Gintoki falls backwards and lands on the ground. But his eyes are wide open instead of shut as he lies on the ground, searching for a sign of a joke from you. You lower into a crouch, continuing to stare into his bewildered eyes. 

“So, what will it be, darling?” 

The weight you put on what you just called him makes him shudder. His face is too distractingly hot compared to his body for him to come up with any kind of retort. He mumbles again with his eyes looking elsewhere. 

“Huh? I can’t hear you, you have to speak up.” 

Words come out in a murmur. All you hear is the word “girlfriend” but you egg him more. “What?? Is this all you got, Sakata Gintoki??”

His hand reaches for your face and he pulls you towards him, pressing your lips against his. You can smell a sweet alcohol scent on him. When you pull away, you find a fiery, intense gaze in his eyes.

“You’re my girlfriend now, stupid.”

Just like that, he renders you speechless. But a smile tugs on the corner of your lips, and you stifle a laugh.

Gintoki picks himself up from the ground, still a little woozy. You grab his arm to steady him, then decide to wrap your arm around his back. He stiffens slightly but eases into your arm for support. When he rests his arm around your shoulders, both of you begin the journey to his home.

“Just so you know, I have unfinished work thanks to your ‘little’ favour. You owe me now. Maybe you should be the one buying me a parfait instead, honeypie.”

He glances at you only for a moment, unamused, before he turns away. You laugh, getting a kick from the whole night of teasing your friend-turned-boyfriend. Suddenly, you stop laughing.

“You didn’t throw up before you met me right?”

“I didn’t.”

Disgust starts creeping onto your face. “Are you sure? Are you sure?”

“I didn’t, you shit.”

[dollvre]

HUSH NEEDS ME???

[haleswallows]

Uwu what's this? A totally random smutty one-shot that I wrote instead of working on my multiple WIPs?

Enjoy!

Teaser:

Something boils under Jason's skin. He feels half-mad with it. Restless and on edge, he loops around Crime Alley for the upteenth time, head on a swivel. Sticky summer night air whips past as he grapnels but it does nothing to soothe him. Jason only feels more feverish in his wild hunt.

He doesn't even know what he's hunting for.

All Jason knows is something feels wrong. Like the bad feeling before an accident, or an Arkham Asylum breakout. That anxious feeling before Jason springs into action.

He drops into an alley, boots heavy and stands from the crouch. Then freezes.

The creature is… ethereal. That's the only word Jason can think of. Glowing softly, hair pure white and floating around its head. It appears male, lithe and muscled with a swimmer's build. And even though it floats, Jason can tell he has a good head and shoulders over it, maybe more if it puts its feet on the ground.

It whips around at the sound of his boots on the alleyway’s ground. And for a moment, Jason's pinned by its bright green eyes. Not Lazarus Water green, but close. Cleaner, brighter. And framed by white eyelashes. It tracks him closely as he approaches.

It’s otherworldly and beautiful, like a glimpse of the Milky Way. Jason is entranced, drawn in, like a moth to a flame.

Then it opens its mouth.

“Hi, hello! Woah, you are way bigger in person. Like way bigger. Impressive, hot and yet terrifying. Big fan, bee-tee-dubs.” There’s an echoing quality to its voice that sends a thrill through Jason. It tilts its head as he nears and gestures to itself. “Nice to meet you, I’m Phantom. Danny Phantom, he/him.”

[motherofthechickensandwich]

✰ enemy!yord fandar x enemy!jedi!reader ✰ 18+ ONLY!!! minors pls dni! content warnings: smut, unprotected sex, not edited lol, enemies to lovers(?), pre-The Acolyte (2024), star wars cussing™ that turns into regular cussing, incorrect star wars lore, i literally haven't seen the newest two episodes so don't come for me notes: new fic format!!! cuz i'm tired of titling and formatting my fics like my old format was so fugly! also i posted a new masterlist that i will be updating as these fics come out. i have a couple of them cooking up in the notes app so be on the lookout guys! also rip yord and jecki i am still heartbroken. as always, if you have any thoughts or criticism (pls be nice), please slide me an ask! enjoy!

summary: too lazy to come up with a good summary ermmmmm ok so you're a jedi alongside yord but you two hate each other but oops now you're hate-fucking! also you get a purple lightsaber cuz i said so

You would be the first to admit that you were not the greatest Jedi in the Order. While you are pretty well-attuned to the Force, decent with a lightsaber, and can practically recite the Jedi Code backwards, in a handstand, while balancing the most fragile of relics from the library on your feet, you still had yet to learn how to manage your emotions.

You are one to feel strongly. You have always been, ever since you were a youngling. Your oftentimes intense feelings clashed with one of the biggest Jedi teachings of mastering one’s own emotions. Unlike most (maybe even all) Jedi, you are quick to become irritated and have a distinct lack of patience that is typically required for a life in the Jedi Order. Your master had often admonished you during your Padawanship for your “passionate” nature. You aren’t sure passionate is the correct word to describe the common source of your irritability: Yord Fandar.

Growing up, you and Yord were close, proximity-wise, but never emotionally. At best, you both tolerated each other’s presence, but you were never friends. Your masters were good friends, sure, but you two certainly were not. You always preferred the company of Osha, a mutual friend with Yord who often played the reluctant peacekeeper between the two of you, but she had left the Order a long time ago. Shortly after her departure, the small sense of peace between you and Yord had all but disappeared. You both found yourself more and more annoyed with each other. To you, Yord Fandar was a stickler, overachiever, and, quite frankly, a boot-kisser. You couldn’t even begin to count the amount of times you’ve rolled your eyes at the way he practically worshiped the ground Master Sol walked on. Everything he did made your blood boil, and you were not afraid to make it abundantly clear.

Yord had also made it abundantly clear that he didn’t like you, except that he did it in the most Jedi way possible, which made you hate dislike him even more. He would chastise you like a child (as if you two weren’t the same damn age), give you sharp looks whenever you did anything he didn’t like (which was most things), and would oftentimes ignore you in conversation or group settings. That is, until you eventually got on each other’s nerves so much that you would start bickering, which would cause even the most patient Jedi Master to roll their eyes.

Yord drove you crazy in a way that no one else did. You did just the same to him; he had told you as such during one of your spats. It had become so much of an issue that the Council had to have an intervention. After hours of bickering and snarking, Grand Master Yoda’s solution was for you to just avoid each other as much as possible. But the Jedi Temple was only so big.

You’re practicing your lightsaber forms in one of the older, smaller training rooms tucked deep within the Temple. Very few Jedi ever come there besides you. There’s a rumor that the younglings spread around about the room being haunted. But really, no one comes there because the room is subpar compared to other training rooms.

You’re facing yourself in the large mirror, watching as your body clunkily switches from form to form, occasionally striking at an invisible enemy. The door to the room suddenly slides open with a hiss, breaking your concentration. You look through the mirror toward the intruder, and feel your face and mood sour when you realize that it's Yord kriffing Fandar.

You instantly break your form and turn to glare at him. Before you can open your mouth to snap at him, he speaks.

“Your lightsaber is still on.”

You glance down at your hand to see it gripping the hilt of your definitely-still-on lightsaber. You stare at the purple blade before quickly deactivating it.

“Also, you shouldn’t be pointing it at the ground,” he adds. “That’s how you end up injuring yourself or others.”

Yord walks over to a bench, which sits at the other side of the room across from the mirror. You scowl at his back.

“I know that, Yord. It’s almost as if we trained together.”

“Then do better,” he replied smoothly, removing his robes, folding them, and placing them on the bench.

You can feel your blood boiling. You just hate the way he condescends you, as if you’re still a Padawan! You try to think of an insult to hurl, something that’ll really get under his skin, but your thoughts halt as you realize Yord is stripping himself of his shirt. You watch with wide eyes as he removes the beige fabric, revealing his skin. You stare at his muscled back and shoulders, watching them flex as he removes the shirt completely and folds it, placing it on the bench next to his robes. He turns around to see you staring and raises an eyebrow. Your face begins to feel hot, both at being caught and at remembering that you’re only in a bra and tight athletic pants. You quickly turn around to continue your forms.

As you begin practicing again, you ask, “Why are you here, anyway?”

Yord walks up next to you, trying to leave space, but it’s difficult in this small of a room. He ignites his yellow saber and closes his eyes, inhaling deeply.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” he says, opening his eyes and exhaling. “But I’m practicing my forms, not that I need it.”

You roll your eyes at his “subtle” gloating.

“Just don’t distract me,” you say, moving into Form I.

Yord glances at you in the mirror before moving into Form I as well.

“You seemed pretty distracted just a moment ago without my help.”

Your face feels even hotter and you want to scream. But instead you mutter a quiet “whatever” and move into Form II. Yord does the same. The both of you move in sync, but Yord, as much as you hate to admit it, is far better than you. You’re not used to all the forms, having specialized in Form V, but Yord seems to have mastered each step of every one. He quickly goes from I to II, II to III, III to IV, and so on. You, however, are still struggling with Form III. Occasionally you can see Yord look at you in the mirror, and though his expression remains neutral, you know the bastard is feeling smug inside.

Frustration builds as you attempt to go through the forms once more, only to stop at III when you realize you messed up yet again. Yord continues on, gracefully moving like it's nothing. The final straw is when you realize he’s not even breaking a sweat when you most definitely are. You let out a frustrated groan, deactivate your lightsaber, and walk to the bench to put your robes and shoes on so you can go back to your quarters and sulk at being bested by Yord, again!

As you sit on the bench, resting for a minute, you find your gaze drifting back to Yord. He’s staring at himself in the mirror, clearly concentrated, so you’re not worried about him catching you looking this time.

You stare at him unabashedly as his body contorts into the various forms, switching between them like it was nothing. He’s fast and smooth, much like a rolling river. And, like everything he does, it pisses you off.

The words blurt out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“Let’s duel.”

Yord stops and lowers his blade, looking back at you in the mirror. His chest quickly rises and falls. He nods, and you know you’re going to regret this.

You hop up from the bench and the two of you take your places across from each other. Yord bows and activates his lightsaber, entering the beginning stance for Form VI. You don’t bow back. Instead you activate your saber and enter Form V. You both stare at each other. The room is completely silent other than the sounds of your sabers humming. Normally, duels between Jedi are meant for practice. Often, they’re all in good fun. But you want to destroy Yord. You can tell he wants to do the same, no matter how much Jedi restraint he has.

You strike first, which surprises the both of you. Form V is a defense-and-counter form, not one meant for striking first. But you do anyway, and Yord blocks your saber with his own. You continue slashing at him, letting your rage flow with each swipe of your blade. Yord looks almost afraid as you continue your assault, pushing him closer and closer to the wall behind you. You raise your lightsaber over your head, ready to knock him into the wall, when you feel the Force pushing you away. You struggle to find your footing, but when you do, you glare at Yord. He’s standing there with his hand out, saber deactivated, breathing heavily, and glaring right back.

“That wasn’t proper dueling procedure,” he fumes. “You were out of line.”

“I’m out of line?” you almost shout, deactivating your saber. “You’re out of line! You interrupted my practice with your stupid presence.”

“It’s a public training room!”

“So?”

“So, I have every right to be here. Though, given your performance just now, you should be questioning your right to be here.”

You pause.

“What are you saying?” you ask slowly.

Yord huffs. “You are undisciplined, disobedient, bad-tempered, foul-mouthed, and if I’m being honest, completely unfit to be a Jedi.”

His words echo violently through your head, almost feeling like a physical knocking in your skull. You feel your eyes burning. Your whole body tingles. You can’t even think. Yord’s words ring through your head, the only thing you can focus on. Your mind screams at you to say something, do anything!

So you attack.

You lunge at Yord with a feral snarl. His eyes widen as you grab his shoulder and dig your nails into his bare flesh. Yord grabs your waist in an attempt to shove you away from him, but the two of you begin toppling over before he can. You land on your back. Yord attempts to pin you down, but you lock your legs around his waist and flip the both of you over. The two of you roll around the training room in a violent ball of limbs until you finally use all of your strength to slam Yord’s shoulders into the ground while you straddle his waist with your knees on his hands, keeping him pinned beneath you. 

He thrashes beneath you violently. He bucks his hips up in an attempt to throw you off of him, but you slam your hips down to keep him trapped beneath you. Yord lets out a loud moan. You both pause. His cheeks burn a darker shade as you both stare at each other.

“Did-did you just-”

“Shut up!” Yord snaps. “Get off of me, right now, or I’ll-”

You roll your hips experimentally. Yord lets out a groan as his head falls back to the floor. The sound sends a flash of heat right to your groin. On top of that, you can feel Yord’s dick harden beneath you. You roll your hips again a few times, relishing in Yord’s sweet sounds and the delicious friction between your clothed sexes until you realize what you’re doing.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you apologize over and over again as you stop and begin to get up. “I don’t know what I was thinking, I-”

Yord grabs your waist before you can get up and grinds you down against his cock. You let out a tiny whimper as a shock of pleasure runs through your body.

“Don’t stop,” he begs. “Please.”

You take a second to look into his eyes, trying to see if this is something he really wants. For a minute, you’re not even sure if you really want this. Sexual relationships between Jedi are forbidden. If you’re caught, there will be punishment. Ideally, you should get off of him right now and leave, never to speak of this again. But all that rationality goes out the window when he grinds against you again.

You continue dry humping each other, a chorus of groans and moans and whimpers flooding the room. At some point you find your lips on Yord’s chest, biting and sucking at the sensitive flesh. Yord mewls enthusiastically as you mark him. You move up to his collarbone, then neck and then you pull away. You want to kiss him. But it’s almost too intimate, even despite the context of what you were doing. So you dive back into the other side of his neck before he can do anything, drawing out those sweet, sweet sounds.

“Fuck me,” he moans. “Please. I need it. I need you.”

His begging is so fucking good that you can’t help but give in. As you stand, you realize there’s a wet patch on your pants and his, exposing how turned on you truly are. You shimmy out of your pants and bra, leaving you completely bare. On the ground, Yord does the same, sliding his pants down to the middle of his thighs. His tan cock slaps against his toned stomach, hard and throbbing and pretty. The sight makes your mouth water. In any other scenario, you would take it into your mouth and give him the best head of his life, but you’re too desperate. You really want to hate to admit it, but you need Yord inside of you.

You hover above Yord, spitting into your hand and jerking him off. He bucks his hips up into your fist, biting his lip. His hands claw at the ground, desperate to hold onto something. He looks so fucking good beneath you. You angle yourself and his cock so that the tip goes inside of you. You both hiss at the tightness of your cunt as you slowly lower yourself down onto him. The stretch initially burns, but then turns into pleasure. You’re both sweating and desperate. You just want to fuck him already.

Once he bottoms out inside you, you sigh at the feeling of fullness. His cock feels too good within you. You’ve missed this feeling. If you could, you would just sit here forever, full of cock. But you don’t have forever, so you press your hands onto his large pectorals and slowly lift your hips before bringing them down. Yord’s eyes roll to the back of his head and he moans loudly. You repeat the motion until you're fully riding him. The room begins to get hot and humid, with the smell of arousal permeating the air. The sounds of your breathy whines, Yord’s deep moans, and the wet slapping and squelching sounds of your hips meeting fill the room.

You look up and catch your own gaze in the mirror. You watch as you lift your hips up and down, your tits bouncing. You see Yord writing in ecstasy below you, his strong hands digging into your waist.

You look mesmerizing.

Yord’s fingers pinching your nipple brings you back to him. You let out a short squeal as he repeats the motion to your other nipple, alternating between the two. After a minute, his hand finds its way back to your waist in a bruising grip while the other begins kneading the fat of your ass. His eyes squeeze shut as you move your lips back to the junction between his jaw and neck.

“I’m so fucking close,” he sobs. Then he begs for something you don’t expect.

“Kiss me, please.”

You sense an opportunity here. You grin mischievously into his skin before pulling back.

“How badly do you want it, huh? Are you gonna apologize for being so fucking mean earlier? Huh?”

Yord opens his eyes, and you see he’s struggling to hold back tears.

“Yes! I’m-I’m sorry, shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things. I’m sorryI’msorry, please, please, I’m so close, just kiss me-”

You can’t find it in yourself to deny him any longer. His pleading is too fucking pretty. You slam your lips onto his in an attempt to steal his words for yourself. Your eyes shut, not caring to see if his eyes aren’t. His lips feel cool and smooth against your own slightly dry ones. Your lips quickly overlap and you begin sucking his bottom lip, gently nipping as your hips begin to speed up. You break the kiss and he chases your lip, but you give him what he wants and kiss him again. It’s wet and sloppy and hot. It’s everything you want, everything you need.

You pull apart once more, a string of saliva connecting you both before it breaks and drops onto both of your chins.

“Shitttttt,” Yord curses. “I’m gonna cum. Please can I cum? Please, please I need to cum inside of you.”

Fuck. Again, you can’t deny him.

You kiss him again, softer and more intimate than before. Something about the softness does something to Yord, and then he’s there. His body tenses, then he shivers, and you can feel him explode inside of you as he moans into your mouth. Tears of pleasure run down his face as his hot cum paints the walls of your cunt. You continue riding him through his orgasm, chasing your own release. You’re close, but you need something to really send you over the edge. Your thinking ceases as Yord’s hand moves between your legs, finding your clit and rubbing tight circles into it.

“Yes, yes, yes, right there!” you chant as your orgasm creeps closer and closer.

When it finally happens, it’s like a star collapsing. You choke on your moans. Your vision nearly goes white as your gummy walls squeeze Yord’s cock, causing both of you to moan. You rock your hips as he continues playing with your clit, guiding you through your orgasm until your hips stop spasming. 

You collapse on top of him, your tits pressing against his chest. Your face rests between his collar and jaw. Yord’s arms go to wrap around you, one around your waist and the other around your back and mid-arms. You both breathe heavily, letting each other come down from the intense throes of pleasure. It feels good to be held in his strong arms.

After a while your senses come back to you. You should go. But Yord’s grip around you is unwavering. He seems to be in no rush. So you relax in his hold and close your eyes. A voice in the back of your mind asks how you’ll deal with this change event that has undoubtedly changed you and Yord’s relationship forever, but you push your thoughts to the side and wrap your own arms around him in return. When the time comes, you’ll deal with it. But for now, you just want to rest in Yord’s arms.

[matchamabs]

huzzahhhh a collection of design stuff for glass joe's title defence 2! i'd love to do more for joe but. man. i really fucked myself making his design soooo fuckin elaborate. anyway. here u go. part 1 of lots i think...