#anime short story

[datsugokuriron]

𝙽𝚒𝚌𝚘: "𝚁𝚘𝚌𝚔, 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔!! 𝚆𝚎'𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛!"

𝚁𝚘𝚌𝚔: "𝚈𝚎𝚊𝚑, 𝙸 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚠𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎. 𝙳𝚘 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚘𝚔? "

𝙽𝚒𝚌𝚘: "𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝! 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚍𝚘 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎!"

𝙹𝚢𝚞𝚐𝚘: *𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘦* "𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚍𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚜."

𝙽𝚒𝚌𝚘: "𝚆𝚑𝚘𝚊𝚊𝚊𝚊, 𝙹𝚢𝚞𝚐𝚘!! 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞?"

𝚄𝚗𝚘: "𝙸𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚎, 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝙸 𝚊𝚖."

𝚁𝚘𝚌𝚔: "𝙰𝚠𝚠𝚠, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎?"

𝚄𝚗𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙹𝚢𝚞𝚐𝚘: "𝚆𝚎'𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚍𝚜!!!"

𝚁𝚘𝚌𝚔: "𝙱𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚜 𝚖𝚎. 𝙹𝚢𝚞𝚐𝚘, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜, 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝? 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚄𝚗𝚘'𝚜 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚘."

𝚄𝚗𝚘: "..... "

𝙹𝚢𝚞𝚐𝚘: "......."

𝚁𝚘𝚌𝚔: "......"

𝙽𝚒𝚌𝚘: "......."

𝙽𝚒𝚌𝚘: "𝙷𝙴𝚈 𝙶𝚄𝚈𝚂 𝙻𝙾𝙾𝙺 𝙰𝚃 𝙼𝙴 𝙸 𝙳𝙴𝙲𝙸𝙳𝙴𝙳 𝚃𝙾 𝙳𝙾 𝙰 𝙼𝚈 𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙾 𝙰𝙲𝙰𝙳𝙴𝙼𝙸𝙰 𝙿𝙾𝚂𝙴!!!!"

[taeetimee]

Seen

[stil-lindigo]

the fox god.

a comic about a trickster.

--

creative notes:

–

all my other comics

store

[short-yandere-stories]

:✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:

:✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:

CW: Yandere behavior, forced imprisonment, brief mentions of NSFW / Non/Con, threats of violence

This is a yandere work. Proceed with caution and please be mindful of your own triggers.

Happy birthday Aizen! I couldn't help but write a short little thing I love him. The Rock Musical is living rent free in my head and has done so since I watched it. The "Smile, Orihime" scene was in it too and I almost fainted seeing that in front of me on stage.

:✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:

The warmth of the palms of his hands burned through the white silk of the gown you were wearing, placed possessively on your waist.

Aizen was lounging in his throne, you perched uncomfortably on his lap in just the way he liked to have you. There was just something about having your soft, warm body close that stroked his ego just right. It was as much of a display of his power and authority for both the Espada and you alike -- a show of ownership.

Any time Aizen summoned the Espada to a meeting, you would be dragged into his lap, spending the meeting trying not to squirm around as large hands held your waist or fingers traced patterns into your thigh. It was humiliating, but there was nothing you could do to stop it. 

Making a scene wasn’t an option anymore. You’d tried to protest the first few times the ruler of Las Noches had forced you to sit in his lap during meetings. He’d been amused, but not at all bothered. A few words whispered into your ear in his smooth, baritone voice had your body freezing as your heartbeat picked up in fear before you reluctantly fell quiet and stopped squirming.

You knew all too well that Aizen made good on his promises and threats. You didn’t want your remaining family to suffer at the hands of Hollows or any of the Espada, nor did you want to spend more nights than you absolutely had to folded into a mating press as fucked you until he was satisfied.

There was no escape from Las Noches, after all. You couldn’t open a portal, and even if you somehow managed to get one of the Espada to open one for you, there was nowhere in the world that you would be able to escape Aizen. All you could do was obey and try to minimise the damage done to yourself or the people you cared about. You were no fighter. You had no powers. There was nothing you could do but let him do as he pleased.

You could feel Aizen’s smile press against the sensitive skin of your neck, no doubt knowing exactly what was on your mind. There was no hiding anything from him. You’d long since stopped trying. 

“Feeling powerless, pet?” Aizen mused, ignoring Nnoitora making a jab at Harribel, trying to rile her up. 

You didn’t grace him with a response, rebelling in one of the only ways you could. He chuckled, chest rumbling in amusement pressed against your back.

“If anyone, you’re the person with the most power here.” You turned your neck, looking back at Aizen with confusion on your face. He merely smiled.

“You’re the only one who controls my heart.” 

:✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:

[gamemakerm]

In honor of Mermay and the current trend of Animal/Therian HRT going around (inspired by @ayviedoesthings's Dragon HRT series, @welldrawnfish's Fish HRT, @kaylasartwork's Bat HRT, @nyxisart's Puppy HRT, @deadeyedfae's Human HRT, etc etc etc, love all your work), I wanted to share the short story I wrote last year about medically turning yourself into a mermaid. This got published in WriteHive's Reclaiming Joy anthology, and we're now just outside of the six-month publishing exclusivity, so I can make it publicly available.

This was really raw to write for me, and there are trigger warnings for transphobia(/whatever the equivalent would be for mermaids?), implications of violence and hate crimes. However all the stories in the anthology were ultimately about perseverance, courage and love. I hope you enjoy, and if you want to get this and eleven other uplifting stories I can't recommend the anthology enough (though this is the only one relevant to the tags as far as I know). And if you really, really like it, you can buy me a kofi!

Scales

When the scales began to break through skin, they said you were becoming a monster. Blue and green, seafoam to pearl. You weren’t certain at what point you started to believe them.

You began to wrap yourself in tighter layers, a futile effort not to draw attention to the rough patches. Elbows, knees, along your arms, mottled with foundation and concealer caked on like spackle. Toner to offset the iridescent shine so that a passing glance wouldn’t be drawn to it. Constant checks and double checks, bathroom visits far beyond the routine. 

Your careful camouflage is usually enough to deflect scrutiny, but occasionally a stranger catches on. Nobody has said anything to you yet, but you have noticed more glances on the train. The old woman’s frown of disapproval. The young man with something to prove to you, himself, the world. His jaw tightens as he calculates his ability to start something. You tuck your chin and pretend to be busy with your phone. In the dark screen you can see the skin flaking on your cheeks. The beginnings of another patch betray you.

As you touch up in the bathroom mirror you tell yourself you wanted this, that you were prepared for the hardships. 

You walk to the public library after your shift ends. You walk most places these days, telling yourself it’s a last hurrah. The fact is you sold your car to make a dent in the cost. You’ll sell everything eventually. You’re going to have to. 

The forums have a list of books everyone checks out when they choose this path. There aren’t many and most are fantasy. There’s a running joke: if anyone mentions Hans Christen Anderson, run. You spot The Little Mermaid on a small display. You don’t run. You check out your books. The librarian gives a knowing nod, but doesn’t remark. You silently thank her for the discretion.

You take a long shower, makeup swirling down the drain. You can’t help but scratch at the itching patches on your thighs, peeling skin tearing away for new growth. Shampoo and blood circle under your feet. Your fingernails are sharper than they were this morning. You exfoliate, letting the city, public transit, the glances of strangers be cleansed. Your reflection in the mirror, a colorful smattering of new scales dusting your cheeks, is tear-streaked, ethereal. Beautiful.

You knock the concealer into the trash bin.

Your mother left a voicemail. She avoids the elephant seal in the room, talking about her gardening, your cousin’s new baby. She lingers for a moment, then: You’re being selfish. She burns brightly as a beratement begins, emboldened. But without someone to riff with she loses her steam, trails off and repeats it. You’re being shellfish. She can’t help it; she laughs despite herself. There’s a minute where she doesn’t speak, but you can tell she’s waiting for the sob in the back of her throat to settle. She promises she’ll come to your party and the voicemail ends.

You still haven’t heard from your father. You don’t expect you will. You’ve made peace with that.

You do your weekly injection on the alternating leg, needle piercing deep in a gap between scales. The plunger delivers 200mg of concentrated hope directly into your bloodstream, salt water in salt water. You put a hello kitty bandaid over it and wait for the feeling of ice in your veins to settle, the tension to go out of your muscles. It doesn’t.

You pass an enraged man on the street, spit flying, a home-made sandwich board making his message clear: The Siren Is The Devil’s Agent. The back offers an equally cogent argument: Go Back To Atlantis, Fish Freaks. You would if you could, you think dryly. He notices you and seethes, but the current of the crowd carries you away before he can curse you out.

You drag your potted plants down to the front stoop and post a craigslist ad: free to a good home. They’re gone within the hour. You allow yourself the rare indulgence of posting a selfie, eyes closed, serene, to the reddit: Learning to love my scales <3! It’s still difficult to type on your phone with the new claws. The upvotes start to come in; everyone loves a guppie.

You catch up on the shows you haven’t gotten to yet. Where there was once only the metaphorical List, there is now an actual list. Despite your best efforts it’s becoming increasingly clear you’re not going to finish all of them. You knock a few off, restructure it based on length. It still looks too long.

You have dreams about choking on toxic waste, getting minced by a boat propeller. You keep a running count of the number of times you’ve dreamt of getting your head stuck in a six-pack of soda rings. You’re up to four. 

Every few days you do laps in the local pool. You’re getting faster, but you feel exposed. There are whispers around the locker room. 

Your cat knows something is happening, but doesn’t understand what that means for her. You hold her whenever and for as long as she’ll allow, give her as many pets and treats as she wants. Despite clearing out your apartment you’ve spoiled her. She licks the scales on your cheek as you cry over her. This seems to inspire something in her; she demands her tuna crunchies. Dutifully you give her the tuna crunchies. She can have as many tuna crunchies as she wants.

You doomscroll your twitter feed, making sure this isn’t the day you lose access to your meds because of some white man in a suit. A sister is assaulted by a violent extremist with a sense of humor: he shot her with a harpoon gun. Her crowdfunding campaign starts on the maidens reddit and goes viral.

You triple check to make sure your friend is still willing to take your cat when you go. They promise to spoil her and tell her stories of you every day. You continue to cry over it. They invite you out for sushi to talk about it, then backtrack to ask if that’s a microaggression. You go to sushi. You’re thankful for the distraction.

By the time your legs are more scale than skin and your fingers begin to develop webbing you’ve given up on pretense. The looks are now constant, but you get reflective sunglasses and a new patch for your jacket: Don’t like it? Drown, with a scaled hand reaching out of water and flipping the bird. You put the energy out into the world, and the world doesn’t fuck with you.

Children love you. Their parents do not. 

On the train a young girl quietly asks if she can feel your scales. You allow her to touch her little fingers to the aquamarine pattern running up your arm, giving her your most reassuring (but still fanged) smile. She’s fearless, enamored, reverent. Her mother pulls her daughter away and hastily apologizes for her, not looking you in the eye. But you know that girl believes in magic now.

A group of white supremacists go out on a boat loaded with assault rifles for “no reason” and get lost at sea. This is somehow your fault.

The day your fins begin to push their way out from your arms, your boss calls you into his office. You both know he can’t fire you in this and seven other states, but you both also know you won’t be staying much longer. He’s done his best to make you aware you’re making his life more difficult. You put in your two weeks before he can flounder for another excuse. He moors you with paperwork for the rest of the afternoon.

Someone leaves a rotting fish in your pool locker. You don’t go back, and you don’t file a report. You tell yourself the chlorine was bad for the gills freshly forming under your ribs anyway.

Your friends take you out clubbing. You lose yourself under the waves of music, submerged under strobe lights and the salty sweat of dancing bodies. You whisper sweet nothings into a stranger’s ear, entrancing her as you move against each other. You can see iridescence shining around her eyes, shimmering glitter and an emerging pattern beneath makeup. You brush a thumb against her cheek and she melts into your touch. You don’t get her name. You don’t need to; you’re both not long for this world. You catch up with your friends smoking outside, your lips still tingling with vermouth.

Weeks pass. Work ends. Your apartment is down to furniture and cat supplies. You take longer showers. News stories continue to come out, the machine churns and roils: monsters walking among humans, the mark of the beast, sacrificing daughters to the ocean. 

You make sure your meds are reupped for the final stretch.

When your legs start to merge you know you don’t have much time left. You donate the last boxes of your clothes. Your friends get first dibs on furniture before it’s put on the street. They bring drinks and sit on your floor, an impromptu celebration and wake. They ask all the usual questions: what are you going to do for food? Shelter? What if you get hurt, or attacked by a shark? Do they have waterproof laptops yet? Will they ever see you again? What if it isn’t right for you? Can you ever come back?

You don’t know how to answer most of those questions. The group stays with you through the night. At 4AM you put on The Little Mermaid and the group drunkenly sings along. Everyone knows the words. It’s juvenile and you can hear the maidens on the reddit rolling their eyes and tutting about misrepresentation, but you know everyone in your position does it. You try not to cry, but the waterworks start and don’t stop.

At daybreak you put your cat into her harness and everyone piles into a friend’s van. It’s not far to the beach, but they take the long way around. One final tour of the land. Your cat sits on your lap and stares out the windows as you pass old haunts, your grocery store, your gym, your high school. You realize you still have library books to return and almost get them to turn around, but someone promises to go back for them afterwards.

There’s an isolated area on the beach where a canopy and tables are set up; banners, food, friends. It’s a regular going away party, as if you’re going on a short trip abroad. You suppose you are, in a way. Someone rented a wheelchair with fat tires to help you get down to the beach.

When your mother arrives she pulls her shirt off to show her custom-made clam bra. Her eyes are already red and puffy, but she’s doing her best to be energetic and upbeat. She holds you for a long time and says she’s happy for you, that you’re beautiful, that you’re so much stronger than she ever was, and then she puts on a brave face to help everyone get served at the buffet. Your cat chases small crabs across the beach around you, and you sit in the sand. The party goes strong.

The tides come up until your fin is tickled by the seafoam. Everyone knows that means it’s time to go. You pass your cat off to her new owner and she gives you a last headbutt. She seems to understand. You kiss your mother’s cheek one last time and she clings to you. The group raises their drinks as you paddle out, disappearing beneath the waves. You give them the money shot and leap out of the water on your way out of the sound, and you can hear cheering from the shoreline. You hope someone got a video for the maidens.

You keep the city in sight for a while, but the currents lead you further into open waters. There are boaters out on the water who wave to you. You wave back and keep swimming up the coast. 

At dusk you rise to the surface and watch the setting sun turn the horizon from blue to pink to purple and orange. There’s nothing for leagues around. As the sun sinks below the waves and the skies darken you sing your first real siren’s song. Shaky and imperfect, it soon resounds over the ocean breeze. You leave everything behind in it. There are no words, only feeling and sound. It’s a lament, an invocation, a dirge. It is many things, but it isn’t an apology. You have nothing to apologize for.

In the seas beyond a chorus joins in with a language you never learned but understand, integrating your song into theirs. You swim to join them.

[nikosama13]

Monster Trio forgetting it's your birthday! (Luffy, Zoro, Sanji x Reader)

Description: The monster trio (Luffy, Zoro, Sanji) forget about your birthday!? As one of the brighter crewmates reminds them about it, hopefully they could get you a gift on time or something more..

(A little suggestive..)

Side Notes: Hello my wonderful Loves! This is my absolute fav ideas so far. Plus it’s on my birthday!♪~ ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ (Probably spelling mistakes)

Enjoy the read! <3

Consider following..?

~~~

Luffy:

It was the day of your birthday and Luffy woke up in his room as it was like another casual day on the Thousand Sunny, completely forgetting about it.

As he left his room, the ocean breeze hit him in the face which was a new and refreshing feeling for him. The waves were strong but it wasn’t anything that the Sunny couldn’t handle.

He began walking down the hall planning to go sit on the bow of the ship. But then his stomach grumbled, so he made a “quick” detour to the kitchen to get what other than meat.

When he entered the kitchen, it was decorated with colorful string lights and a gorgeous table cloth.

To his left he saw Nami and Robin decorating. Nami was on a ladder and Robin was passing party banners with her devil fruit. To his right he saw Sanji baking something up which smelled great but it wasn’t meat..

“Hii! Whatcha guys doing??” Luffy said in his excited manor.

Nami and Robin turned to face him while Sanji was already walking over to the fridge to get Luffy his meat he has been so longing for.

“We're decorating for y/n’s birthday.” Nami smiled as she tapped down the colorful fabric.

Luffy’s jaw hung from his mouth and his eyes popped out.

“Don’t tell us you forgot..” Robin shot him a concerned look.

“Ah- Uh- Mh-.. of course not..” he looked towards Sanji trying to change the subject.

“Hey, Sanji! Is my meat ready?” He tried to worry about all that confusing birthday stuff later, however he did know that it held great importance to you and the crew.

“Yeah.” Sanji glared at Luffy and set down his meal.

After about 8 minutes Luffy finished eating and ran off to his room.

Nami and Robin giggled about how Luffy was acting and his forgetfulness, but on the other hand it wasn’t like his behavior was anything new to them.

Luffy jetted into his room and began brainstorming ideas on what you’d even want for your birthday. He thought about giving you some food or maybe a pet..? He was really stuck but also really wanted to give you something.

Then it hit him.. He ran out of this room and down to Ussop’s workshop.

The doors swung open, scaring Usopp. “Usopp! I need your help!”

Luffy was hoping he could make this happen.

Usopp jumped out of his chair and hid under the table.

“Jeez Luffy.. y'know you could knock next time..” Usopp scratched the back of his head and sat back up on his chair making room for Luffy to sit.

“So what do you want exactly..?” he asked Luffy.

After a long story of explaining what happened and what he wanted to make for you, him and Usopp spent the rest of the day making this “unknown” gift for you.

---

Right now it was night and all the crew members of the Straw hats were hiding in the kitchen. This included Luffy and Usopp. They all awaited you, as soon as the door handle clicked they’d jump..

You were super confused and almost scared that someone had maybe captured your friends while you were getting ready in your new party dress Nami helped you pick out.

It was too quiet..

Then the door handle clicked and you walked in..

“SURPRISE!!” The whole crew said together.

“Awhh! Thank you so much guys!” you flustered immediately at everyone’s thought of putting this together just for you.

“Have a seat mademoiselle~” Sanji pulled out a chair for you at the table.

After you sat down, everyone scurried around the table and plopped down in their seats.

Then they sang you ‘Happy Birthday’ and your cheeks flushed even more with embarrassment.

Lastly, Sanji handed over to you a knife to cut the cake.

You didn’t even take a second to admire the masterful art work Sanji had put into the whole piece and instead you cut into it like you were stabbing someone.

Later on, after everyone’s wonderful gifts to you it was Luffy’s turn..

Everyone sat silently, surprised their captain actually remembered and brought something.

Now the real question was if it was any good.

You slowly unwrap the decently sized box and low and behold an adorable music box with your name engraved in the front of it and your favorite colors painted all around.

Everyone stared at Luffy including you.

Then you flipped the music box over to twist the knob and you also noticed some lettering saying “Built by Usopp The Great”.

You smiled at Usopp, also thanking him for his hard work.

Finally.. It was time for some real partying as all of you sang and danced.

Most of the crew got drunk too, excluding Chopper, Robin, and Sanji.

You and drunk Luffy headed out alone to the front part of the Sunny when you planted a small kiss on his forehead, making both of you a blushing mess.

“Thank you..Luffy.” you smiled and gave him a signature Nami hug as your chest engulfed his face.

By the end of the night the music box was placed in the center of your vanity but shaking violently. I wonder why.. (˵¯͒〰¯͒˵)

Zoro:

Zoro was in a deep sleep..

That was, until he woke to the sounds of the Straw Hats running around the ship frantically.

Pots and tins clattering, Nami’s voice yelling at what sounded like to Luffy and Usopp “do something helpful around here!” and lastly chopper’s hooves running on the deck, holding some colorful paper.

“Oi, what the hell is going on here??” Zoro said unhappy, because he was awakened from his nap. He rubbed his eyes and was met with the unpleasant sight of.. Sanji.

Sanji shot him a mean glare, “It’s y/n’s Birthday, mosshead.”

Zoro was too shocked to talk back to Sanji, instead he sat there on the floor with his eyes bulging out of his head.

“Oh.” Zoro said flustered because of his forgetfulness.

“Looks like someone forgot~” Sanji teased.

“Shut up, cook” Zoro stood up and walked towards Sanji.

Both of them cracked their knuckles, ready to brawl.

Nami rolled her eyes in a “here we go again..” manner. Then she proceeded to take care of the situation..

Zoro and Sanji parted ways with huge bumps on their heads.

When Zoro arrived in his room he plopped down on this bed and tried to sleep, but something was bugging him..

Like he was forgetting something.. your gift.

He sprung out of his bed and began pacing around his room, thinking of what to buy you.

Something new.. Or old.. Shiny or brightly colored.

He had no clue.

As the day went on and you and the Straw Hats partied. Drinks, food, “wonderful” singing from Luffy, and dancing.. it was almost like the ocean was dancing with you.

However Zoro, watched you closely. No gift in mind or hand at the moment..

Then Chopper announced “Let's open these gives y/n!”

You smiled and nodded.

“Sure, I’d love to!” The crew went around in a circle and passed you their gifts.

Nami gave you a new dress with your favorite colors and Robin bought you a small pocket mirror.

“Thank you so much guys!” you smiled and thanked them.

Sanji turned to Zoro purposely, knowing that Zoro wouldn't have a gift for you.

“How about you, mosshead..?”

Sanji smirked at him.

Zoro glared at him, it was as if he wanted to cut him in two.

“I have something in mind, but it shouldn’t concern you, cook.” he continued to stare a hole through Sanji.

“Hm.. sure you do..” then Sanji turned to you.

“If the mosshead doesn’t give you a gift I’ll take care of it.” he winked at you.

You nodded again, kind of grossed out and looked away from the whole situation.

After the Straw Hats left the deck and were probably sleeping from all the partying.

You walked up to Zoro and looked at him.

“So what’s this secret gift.. Hm?” You stood in front of him.

“Heh. Impatient I see..” he leaned in super close to you.

“W-why so close..?” you started getting flustered.

“I’m just giving you my gift…” he smirked mischievously at you.

Then it happened so quickly that your brain needed a couple of seconds to process what he was doing to you.

He was kissing you.

You didn’t pull away though.. you pushed yourself closer on him.

After a solid minute he pulled you two apart. He was blushing and panting, but so were you.

“Did you enjoy your birthday gift..?”

“Very much so..” you smiled at him.

On the bright side I guess you wouldn't have to be telling Sanji how Zoro didn’t get you a gift..

Sanji:

It was a sunny day on the Thousand Sunny. Sanji woke up as per usual and made the crew their breakfast.

As the Straw Hats ate, they began speaking about you.

Specifically your birthday.

“I’m gonna get y/n one of those music boxes for her birthday!” Nami announced as she smiled ear-to-ear.

When Sanji heard this he almost burnt the meat he was cooking up for Luffy.

“T-that’s today..?” Sanji asked, his voice shaky.

“Duh!” Luffy butted in.

“Oh..” Sanji was trembling as thoughts raced through his mind. He felt ashamed.

How could he forget? Why did he forget? Was he that busy he forgot about you?

But most of all, what would he get you..? However, with luck on his side they were close to arriving at a port with supplies.

Hopefully.. no, he would definitely buy you something from there.

No matter what.

A couple of hours went by and the crew had finally docked in port and everyone ran off somewhere.

Nami, You, and Robin went out shopping, as your way of celebrating. Luffy, Ussop, Franky and Chopper ran out to some restaurant and lastly, Zoro was keeping watch over the ship. In other words he was sleeping..

As for Sanji.. Well he was scrambling all over town to find you something.

Eventually, the crew all met back up on the ship with “minor” issues.

The rest of the night was dedicated to you, drinking, dancing, and making a mess of the ship.

When you opened your gifts up you loved everything you got. From a new handbag to a half-alive fish from Luffy.

Then it was Sanji’s turn.

He handed the gift over to you. It was wrapped to perfection in expensive paper..

When you unwrapped it, you were met with a small box.

Then you opened the box and to your surprise it was a stunning ruby necklace.

“S-sanji.. This is beautiful..” you picked up the piece and examined every shine and detail of it.

Sanji just simply stood there and smiled at you.

“H-how much was th-” he cut you off.

“The price doesn’t matter, mademoiselle. But.. if I were you, I’d look at the back of it..” he said, smiling so hard it hurt.

You spun the piece around on it's back side and there it said..

"Be mine.”

Your cheeks became a shade of crimson.

Everyone else on the Sunny was either drunk or knocked out cold on the floor, sleeping.

“Will you..?” Sanji stepped closer to you and sneakily creeped his hands up your waist.

“Y-yes, yes I will.” you blushed, it was like your body was a magnet to his.

He could resist the way you looked at him, all shy and confused.

So he kissed you.

It lasted for a few seconds and you two pulled apart.

“Shall we take this to my room madam..?” He smiled mischievously.

“Of course dear.” you smiled back.

Let’s just say that your new necklace wasn’t the only thing taken off that night.. ~~~

The End~

Thank you so, so, so much for reading! (It’s also my birthday today so tysm! <3)

Consider following..?

[gotchibam]

Here's the smol fiery chibi Karlach I made as a sample for my chibi commissions~ ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥🔥

[uravitsy]

‘YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL’ SATORU GOJO

ACT ONE.

summary. gojo visits your grave once a year, reflecting on the limited time he had with you while going through the stages of grief. ☆

warnings. angst, sad!gojo, fem!reader! gojo x you, grief, established relationship, some smut if you squint, bittersweet ending

a/n. this is a short story i wrote over the summer, i wanted to dabble into the idea of gojo not being able to fully process his grief without the help of his students. it is a bit sad though.

ACT TWO : ̗̀➛ ACT THREE : ̗̀➛ FINALE

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪

"Does Gojo-sensei seem…different today?" Itadori asked absentmindedly, leaning back in his chair while balancing a pencil on his nose. He was doing everything else but the work he was supposed to finish before class ended. His two close friends, Megumi and Nobara, spared him a quick glance, as if debating whether to answer his ridiculous question.

"When is that nutjob ever okay?" Nobara bounced back another question, making Itadori stop balancing himself on his chair to think for once. The pencil he had on his face clattered onto the ground. "If anything, he's more extra than he was yesterday."

"Exactly," Itadori frowned, the invisible lightbulb above his head continuing to flicker as he thought long and hard about what Gojo could be upset about. He knew it was a stretch, and he himself wasn't too good at reading emotions, but he was sure something was off—from the way Gojo's smile seemed wider to the way his laughs went on for a second too long. "What do you think, Megumi?"

The black-haired boy stopped moving his pencil across the paper. His face remained stoic as the two beside him turned to look in his direction, anticipating an answer from him.

In short, Megumi did know why Gojo seemed off today, and it was all because of his vague memory of you.

He was a clueless child back then, but he felt it. He felt the love you and Gojo shared, something he had seen before between his own mother and father. It was strong, beautiful, like a song that only you and Gojo knew the lyrics to. It was a dance—a slow burn into the spotlight of a world you two created.

He admired it. He admired you and the person you helped Gojo become.

And though your memory was beautiful, it was also tragic. Megumi did mourn you since he remembered bits and pieces of you, but he was sure Gojo mourned you the most. Especially since today was the anniversary of your death. For as long as he's known Gojo, he knew that this one day out of the year was the time when he'd crack more jokes, tease him more, and laugh the loudest—all to mask his pain.

And he couldn't help but think it's because Gojo never properly grieved for you.

"He's the same as usual," Megumi lied. It wasn't their place to know, nor was it his. Everyone had their secrets and the stuff they keep to themselves. Who were they to pry into his business? "You guys should just drop it."

And with that, he went back to his assignment, ignoring the gawking stares from both of his friends.

"Well, now I'm even more curious," Itadori pouted, resting his chin on his hand as he looked out the window just in time to see Gojo's back as he skipped off campus. "He's literally leaving in the middle of the day!"

"Itadori—" Megumi started but got interrupted by his friends' loud voices.

"What?!" Nobara pushed Itadori away from the window so she could look. A sudden spark of curiosity consumed her as she cracked a mischievous grin. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"We should follow him!" they both said at the same time as they rushed out of the classroom with such speed they left papers flying behind them.

Megumi could only sigh. His peers were likely to get in trouble and drag him into their mess somehow. It never fails. He thought for a moment about how he would benefit from following them to make sure they didn't get caught leaving school grounds without a teacher, but he came up with nothing. He figured he should take his own advice and mind his own business, let those two knuckleheads do whatever they want and suffer the consequences for it.

They could potentially run into dangerous curses, dangerous people, or dangerous people controlling dangerous curses… and then suffer grave injuries. You know what? Maybe he should follow them from a distance.

Meanwhile, the door to the flower shop gave a soft ding as Gojo opened it. His tall frame took up the space in the small shop. Gojo ducked his head as he came in, careful not to knock over the potted plants that rested on the floor and shelves in no particular order. The air was stale with an earthy smell that was oddly comforting. It was good to know that the place remained the same after a year—the only thing that stayed the same in his chaotic life.

"Satoru!" an elderly woman looked up from her newspaper at the sound of the doorbell, thick circle glasses making her eyes appear large and almost fish-like. "Good to see you! How have you been?"

"Mrs. Yamada," Gojo bowed respectfully to the elder, to which the lady playfully pinched and pulled his cheeks. "Missed you too!"

"You silly boy, you know you can visit anytime and not just once a year, you know (Y/N) would've loved that, hm?" Mrs. Yamada made her way behind the counter, already grabbing and wrapping up a single flower. A flower that was your favorite, the same kind you'd always get whenever you would come into this small flower shop.

Gojo never understood why you didn't let him buy a whole bouquet of the flowers you loved. "Then I'd have to take care of all of them," you'd say, your laugh like a sweet melody in his ears that he constantly wanted to replay. "When it's just one, I feel like it lasts longer, you know? I seem to appreciate it more."

The memory made him frown slightly. If you allowed it, he would've bought the whole damn store for you, and you wouldn't just be stuck with a single flower. He didn't get it. He didn't get you. Even after all these years, he was still trying to figure you out.

"Ah, she used to come in every Sunday morning to say hello," Mrs. Yamada smiled warmly. "Always ready to hound me for something sweet to eat. (Y/N) had a nose like a hound and a stomach like a sumo wrestler." The brown wrapping paper crinkled against the elder's fingertips as she folded it around the flower. "Oh, how I miss her."

"Come now, Mrs. Yamada," Gojo leaned against the counter, tapping the wood with excitement. "She'd want us to smile, to celebrate her life, right?! Then that's exactly what we'll do."

"Satoru…"

Gojo waved his hands dismissively. "The usual price for the flowers, right?"

"Yes," Mrs. Yamada rang him up at the cash register before sliding the flower across the counter toward him. But before Gojo could grab it, she pulled it away. "I wanted to tell you before I closed up shop for the day, but… I will be retiring next month."

Gojo's smile fell then.

"I am getting too old, and ever since my husband's passing, I find it quite hard to manage this all on my own, no matter how much I love to do so," she patted the counter lightly, eyes glazed over in a daze as if recalling a memory. "I will be closing the shop and moving to America to stay with my daughter."

"Then are you going to sell the building?"

Gojo found himself asking before he could even think about what to say.

"I'll buy it."

Even in death, you were expensive. How was that possible? Gojo found himself using his savings to buy a whole flower shop that you weren't even here to see. But did that matter to him? Of course not. You were worth every penny—and the shop, to him, was nothing more than a shiny penny that he could buy for your sake. All because you loved it and would visit it often. Gojo couldn't let it close down; it was too valuable for the sake of the memories it held.

So now he owned a flower shop. What the hell was he going to do with a flower shop? He didn't know a damn thing about flowers.

"(Y/N)…" Gojo whispered your name as he pushed open the metal graveyard gate, the bolt making a loud creaking noise that echoed into the summer breeze.

It didn't take Gojo long to find your headstone. After all these years, he knew this cemetery like the back of his hand; at this point, it was like a second home to him. The only place where he could truly let the mask fall as he mourned for you.

In the years you've been gone, he had a long time to think—to wonder why you of all people had to be taken away from him. It made him question, curse, and cry to a higher power above if there was one. Would they be listening? Did they hear him? Did they understand the pain he was put through? And if everything was a part of the higher power's plan, then why was (Y/N) written in with such a tragic story? Why did her life become a song of such somber music?

It wasn't fair. And to Gojo, he would never make sense of it, no matter how hard he tried.

"Ah, it's a beautiful day, (Y/N)." Gojo smiled warmly at your headstone before sitting on the smooth tile, rummaging through his bag to pull out a rag so he could wipe the dust that was on top of your engraved name. "Though I bet you're complaining about how hot it is. I know, it is a little toasty, but a beautiful day nonetheless."

Wiping the concrete clean, Gojo made sure it was spotless with all the cleaning supplies he brought. He had to make up for the year he was away; that's why he always deep-cleaned your headstone since he knew he wouldn't be back until next year. He wanted you to watch the seasons go by with a pretty headstone, one that sparkled whenever the sun cast its rays on it.

"Hm?" Gojo tilted his head as if to hear your unspoken question again. "Oh! I'm doing good. Still teaching. You'd love these lot of kids, though. They have such great potential and are such a reckless bunch who enjoy escaping off campus to follow me here."

"Crap! He's onto us." Gojo heard Nobara's voice from the bushes behind him.

"Do you think he knows?" Itadori asked in his typically clueless fashion.

"He knows, dumbass." Megumi sighed before emerging from the bushes with twiddledee and twiddledumb trailing behind him. Their bantering stopped once they saw Gojo sitting by your headstone, the air suddenly becoming still as they made their way closer.

"Gojo-sensei, we can explain—!"

"Don't even," the white-haired man laughed before gesturing toward the headstone. "(Y/N), meet my students. Students, meet (Y/N)!"

"Ah! Nice to meet you!" Itadori bowed in respect, and so did Megumi.

"Why are we bowing to a dead—" Grabbing ahold of Nobara's hand, Itadori forcibly pulled her down so she could bow as well.

"Oh, you kids are in so much trouble," Gojo said with a gleeful smile. "I'm already thinking of all the ways to punish you."

"In my defense," Megumi started, "I tried to stop them."

"Yetttttt you're still here." Tilting his head, Gojo looked at his students playfully. "I hope you all enjoyed this field trip, but let's head back to campus, yeah? And get ice cream along the way!"

"Oh! Ice cream!" Itadori and Nobara spun around in a dance as they made their way toward the entrance of the cemetery, the pair just finding it best not to question who you were or what you were to Gojo. They could finally sense what Itadori was talking about that morning. He was different today, and it was clear he was sad. "La la la la la!"

"Let's go, Megumi. Do you still prefer chocolate?" Gojo turned to walk away but stopped in his tracks when he noticed Megumi staring at your grave with an expression he couldn't read. "Megumi?"

"Gojo-sensei…" His student turned to look at him. "I just want you to know that it's okay to be sad, to grieve for her."

Gojo chuckled, tucking his hand in his pocket as a breeze cut through the air, its chilled warmth wrapping around the pair. "Who's to say I don't? I grieve her every day."

URAVITSY 2024

[colourstreakgryffin]

*holds hands out for alms*

Reincarnation content where wife!s/o of Muzan who cared and loved him during his sickly heian days (who died either natural causes / accident, and he didn't get to appreciate her enough and is kind of an a-hole at that time) reborn as a hashira? And he stumbles upon her?

*coughs aggressively* i need bittersweet pining Muzan to cure my desperation

Wooowwww! I like this idea so much! This is actually very cool and I absolutely love this! Once again, thank you all for this incredible concepts! Muzan is quite the common powerhouse for this blog so let’s give him more attention

Kibutsuji Muzan- Loop-Around

Muzan knows those eyes too well… those beautiful, colourful eyes on a woman so pretty and loving. The flashbacks, the memories, the tragedy and the anger he feels over his past. Over his own failure and his own mistakes over what he did during Heian Era, during his life as a human. Those awful, painful drawn-out days where all he could do was sit in a bed and watch people come in and out of his room

The person who arrived the most was his assigned wife, Dokusha. A kind, patient, sophisticated woman of wealth, and she always spent so much time to take care of and love Muzan, all whilst looking around for the right medicine to cure his terminal illness. Muzan, during this time, couldn’t care less for that woman. She was just a useful tool to make him comfortable, feel validated and save his life but through the weeks, as he grew even weaker, he got real tired of waiting to be rescued by so many incompetents.

When he gotten given a type of medicine that worked, that odd concoction from a rather viable doctor you had bought in for Muzan, and when it shaped him into the first ever demon. He could finally walk for the first time in his life

And he walked out of that room… in perfect health, with razor sharp fangs, with a blood-thirst for human flesh, with his muscles clenching and strong. However, as he explored. He ended up finding something else as tragic as what he caused to his rescuer. His assigned wife mauled to death by wild Ussuri Brown bears in the forest, all whilst clearly trying to find absolutely any medicinal herbs that could possibly do anything to save Muzan

Muzan never really appreciated nor cared for Dokusha, he didn’t see her as much of a person and whilst he looked at the mangled body of that woman… he felt… almost nothing. It wasn’t disgust but it also wasn’t anger, it was just… emptiness and after that day. He suspected he would never see a human woman named Dokusha ever again, foolishly unaware of the fact he truly did love Dokusha and truly did feel a deep pit of misery-fuelled fury at her death. She did so much for him and he did nothing for her

Even after learning the fatal accident that caused her death was entirely centred around trying to recover Muzan from his birth sickness

Currently as the high and mighty Demon King, the first ever Demon in existence. Kibutsuji Muzan, has been confronted by the newest Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps in Asakusa, the Tashio Era when walking back to his ‘family’, and she has the eyes and the voice of his real wife. 10,000 years after her death, she’s back in a entirely new form and just knowing his dead wife has been reincarnated as his moral enemy is making Muzan’s undead heart throb in pain and outrage. Why does he feel this way looking into this Hashira’s eyes?

10,000 years after her death and now, Muzan has finally realised he has missed his wife so bad that he has grown desperate to see her again. He never noticed it, he always thought about locating the Blue Spider Lily and spreading over his ‘gift’ of demonicism around to every human he can find to gain the power he desires, to concur the Sun. Now, he notices how aggressive he is over the idea of love and how he is so repulsed by the six other wives he has pretended to marry throughout his life

Muzan stayed silent, blood red slit-pupiled eyes glaring at his reborn Hashira wife, taking in her features to every corner and constantly seeing glimpses and flashes of her original self… she’s so beautiful and he didn’t even notice how beautiful Dokusha actually was. How she didn’t deserve to die for his sake, if he could, he’d have ordered Dokusha to stay with him when she left upon calling that doctor in, as to save her life so then, he could have turned her into an demon too

Made her his Queen of Demons but no… he failed and now, he is beyond bittersweet. Pining, angry at his own blindness, upset he let the only woman who actually genuinely cared about him go… if he could reverse time, he would

Muzan, now, cannot bring himself to be the cause of his wife’s death once more… he can’t. He’ll just have to figure out another way to get her back, all without hurting her so before Dokusha could even think to begin attacking the Demon King with all the strength she has within that branded Nichirin Katana. Muzan fades away into the pitch black night, his glowing red eyes providing the only semblance of light for him when he retreats from that Hashira and those magnificent eyes, disappearing several streets down from her in a way she can’t track him down

He loves her

He knows he loves his wife and he can’t believe he had to wait for 10,000 years to recognise the mere fact that he did love Dokusha. Even if he didn’t know her enough to even call her a friend, her optimistic compassionate nature and the right to admire that personality was drowned out by Muzan’s own bitterness and desire to remain alive. He messed up royally with the first Dokusha, he won’t mess up with the second Dokusha

And he will make her his queen… even if it includes spending hours following the Ice Hashira around. He’ll do it and he already has a plan devised in his mind. He won’t hesitate to find some method to transform into a powerful immortal being like himself

All because he wants you back so bad

[ducktracy]

a short placing heavy emphasis on Hungarian Rhapsody No. II is a rite of passage for golden age cartoons. Bugs Bunny did it! Tom and Jerry did it! Daffy and Donald! but one thing Woody Woodpecker has above the competition is that he is held hostage by a group of gangsters and is forced to entertain, lest he get executed. amazing

[spaceydoo]

Blurred visions

drunk!ban who always has to be the loudest in the club and just says nonsense to anybody who’s willing to listen.

drunk!ban who picked a fight with some rando who he thought was trying to take a peek under your dress when he just so happened to drop his wallet right beside you. luckily, you broke the fight before anything got serious.

drunk!ban who brings you on the dance floor which you agreed to while he just grabbed your ass the whole time swaying left and right while he kept his head buried in your neck even though you were supposed to be “dancing”

drunk!ban who suggested that you take more than one shot so when y’all went home things would be “spiced up” but one of you had to be the sober one to drive so you declined.

drunk!ban who does dumb shit like saying everyone’s drinks were on him which you had to turn down cuz he wasn’t gonna spend all that money on something like that.

drunk!ban who makes you sit on his lap, back facing him whispering how much he loves you and placing kisses all on your neck letting soft moans out since the music covered them.

drunk!ban who knows what he’s doing to you from his intoxicating smell, his drunken eyes, the taste of alcohol in his mouth after a passionate kiss and his growing member.

drunk!ban who decides to ditch the club and do a little something in the car with you.

drunk!ban who brings you to the backseat, and strips you down to your underwear and lays you on your back, licking his lips at the meal in front of him.

drunk!ban who licks your soaking pussy while your panties were still on making you frustrated from the lack of contact.

drunk!ban who gets tired of this quick and rips your panties off you and eats you out as if he had been starved for days (he ate you out yesterday)

drunk!ban who is immediately pussy drunk and moans into your pussy, the vibrations sending you off the edge.

drunk!ban who adds one finger then two to your pretty pussy and curls it in just the right places.

drunk!ban who picks up the pace of his fingers and mouth when he knows you’re close and uses his other hand to massage your breast which made you grip his hair desperately needing more of him.

drunk!ban who gets squirted all over and laps it up while you ride out your high, bucking you hips against his tongue, shaking from how intense your orgasm was.

drunk!ban who never seen you shaking so much after being ate out which he took as an accomplishment.

drunk!ban who gives you a look that say “we bouta be here all night”

drunk!ban who begins to line himself up to your hole before crashing into with such force that you were already loosing your vision.

drunk!ban who fucks you fast and gives you kisses while you moan into his mouth unable to kiss him back.

drunk!ban who gets scratches from you on his back which he loves to admire in the mirror.

drunk!ban who sits up to admire your figure under the street light, still keeping his same pace when you pull him back with your legs wrapped around him to feel him at a whole different level.

drunk!ban who is grunting and moaning just as loud as you were when you both were getting so close.

drunk!ban who is slurring praises in your ear and how y’all should cum at the same time <33

drunk!ban who has never been this vocal in bed which surprised yo since you almost never hear him moan like this

drunk!ban who only had to fuck you a little more until you squirted on his cock, soaking the car seats while he came inside you.

drunk!ban who rested on top of you fucking you slowly as he spilled his seed into you

drunk!ban who gives you about a minute to rest until he began fucking you without mercy while tears were forming from overstimulation and your moans gradually became louder which he hid with sloppy kisses

gotta love drunk ban <3

[yannights]

The Caged Truth

Yandere male X winged reader

A/n: Hi, it has been a while, sorry for being absent but I am back with a new story. You can imagine any male character for this story, feel free to choose your favourite.

"A caged bird isn't a real bird. A real bird can fly. Those that are trapped lose all that makes them a bird."

Your statement came as a surprise, so surprising that it caught the attention of your captor as he was reaching to open the bedroom door and leave. He stopped, all movements faltered, and a deafening silence created a sense of unease that could almost make you sick. But you refused to show such emotions and patiently awaited his response. A few seconds went by, and the air started to thicken, as if it was warning you. Had you made a mistake? Had you spilled the wrong words? But you had only spoken the most honest truth. Surely he would understand, given the situation.

He slightly turned his head to the side, showing he was thinking about the words he was going to say in response.

"A bird with one wing chopped off cannot fly as well. Does that not make it a bird then?" He asked.

Those words were definitely ones you were not expecting. A simple question that nearly contradicted your own words. You felt stress rise as you tried to find a way to answer without leaving another opening, hoping to make a better point. You realized that the bedroom had now become an arena, where one of you would come out as the victor, and the other as the loser. Your mind raced desperately. If you gave no answer soon, then he would win, and you would face pure humiliation.

"But at least it is still free. Regardless of its disability, it may not fly, but it is outside, living and not confined..."

"But vulnerable." He interrupted.

Your form moved slightly backward as your eyes widened in shock. He turned around, and by doing so, you could have sworn the room darkened. He faced you with a stoic expression that nevertheless had an apologetic tint to it, as if he understood where you were getting at but was still convinced by his own ideal. He adavnced slowly. You instinctively backed away. He watched you while you avoided his gaze.

This lasted until your wings made contact with the cold wall behind you, which signified that it was short-lived. He finally came to a grounding halt as his chest was millimeters away from your form. He leaned forward and slowly reached his hand out towards you. You flinched, not knowing what he was going to do. You closed your eyes tightly but reopened them as soon as you felt the rough hand caress your left wing.

"A one-winged bird can never survive in this cruel world. It would die as soon as it is born," he said as his other hand reached out to touch your other wing, leaving you completely trapped in his hold, too afraid to move.

"Even a bird in its integrity can fly, eat, sleep, but can also die so easily as it has many predators hungrily watching it, as it has many arrows pointing ready to shoot it down, as it has ways to fall and die."

His hand movements stopped, and he let go of your wings. He moved one to your face and tilted it upwards to look into his stone-cold eyes.

"That is the price of freedom, a price I will not allow you to pay. That is why cages were made, to keep it safe."

The word "it" really meant "you," and you could see the sincerity behind his words. His stern expression softened ever so slightly, but yours only grew sadder.

"But at what cost?" you whispered, your voice trembling. "A life without freedom isn't a life at all. Can't you see that?"

His grip on your face tightened momentarily before he let out a long, weary sigh. "I can see it, but I cannot risk losing you. The world out there is merciless and unforgiving. Here, in this cage, you are safe. With me, you are safe."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you searched his face for any sign of relenting, and in the end, they only spilt down your face. He kissed your forehead as soon as he saw your sadness but did not wipe your tears away. Because tears are a sign of realization...

A realization that you would never leave his cage...

[rr311]

⇝ 𝖨𝗇𝖿𝗈 kissing, spicy, black!reader

⇝ 𝗉𝗅𝗈𝗍 you want to play a game.

⇝ 𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋’𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾 It’s been a fat minute since I wrote for demon slayer so I present you with a short sanemi story! also dee announcements, today Is my birthday! and second Im gonna start writing for other fictional characters, like zuko from ATLA 🤗 anyways I hope yall enjoyyy

❝ 𝐋𝐄𝐓’𝐒 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐀 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 ! ❞ - 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

"let's play a game."

"a game?."

"a game." you heared him scoff under his breath as he looked at you weird, weren't games for children? seeing his reaction you rolled your own. "It'll be fun. I swear It." you crossed your chest with a small smile. sanemi looked at you again then sighed, "what's this..game you wanna play?." In response you got up from where you were sat ted to be seated on his lap putting your arms behind you. you tilted your head spotting his smirk, "simple and easy rules." you trailed seeing his eyes look from your eyes to your lips nodding his head, "we're gonna make out— but, If one of us gives In or touch one another that person loses. the loser has to do whatever the winner tells them to do." he raised a brow, "so If I touch you, I lose?." you nodded your head, "yup." you grinned leaning your face forward towards his feeling his breath hit your face, "so don't lose.."

In Instincts sanemi almost went to grab ahold of your hips till he remembered that he's playing your stupid game. he held his hand to his sides, clenching the bedsheets as he groaned Into the kiss fighting the urge to take you right now. you already knew he was gonna give In first. sanemi loved touching you, your face, thighs, hips, ass, he couldn't resist you. he leaned his head more to the side the capture your lips moving aggressively with your pace. you moaned Into his mouth bucking your hips up hearing a small hiss feeling him get hard under you. he wasn't gonna last long..

he needed to touch you. feel more of you. he groaned quietly, "fuck this." he mumbled Into your mouth before feeling his hands slide up your shirt to hold onto your hips moving them back and fourth against his hard. you smirked Into the kiss finally getting to bring your hands up wrap around his neck pulling him closer feeling his tounge roam your mouth. not even a second In he switched your guys position, laying on the bed with him between your legs pulling back from the kiss to kiss down your neck, giggling at how desperate he Is, "so desperate."

"shut up."

[gebo4482]

THE SPIDER WITHIN: A SPIDER-VERSE STORY | Official Short Film (Full) | Sony Animation

Dir: Jarelle Dampier Star: Brian Tyree Henry / Shameik Moore

[nikosama13]

One piece boys reacting to you cooking for them! (Luffy, Zoro, Sanji x Reader)

Description: One piece boys reactions to your wonderful cooking skills/ the first time cooking for them.

Side Notes: Hello my loves! This is just a short mini post to keep up with you guys. Lowkey rushed and I wish I could of added more detail, I might later. (Probably spelling errors + my requests should be open) (づ￣ ³￣)づ

ALSO ☞︎ Comment if you would like a part 2 with other various one piece men.

☞ Minor cursing

\Part 2 here! (Shanks, Law x Reader)/

Consider the following..?

Enjoy the read!

~~~

Luffy:

Automatically thought your cooking was better than Sanji’s. The first time you presented him a meal his eyes popped out of his head from the flavor. It was meat that you gave him, which you took a very long time to prepare. (What did you expect.. a salad?) Cooking was like your secret talent, however you left most of it to Sanji since that was his job in the first place. “Mmm. This is great y/n, thanks!” he smiled and proceeded to devour his plate, licking it clean and making sure to not leave a single crumb behind. In the end you couldn't stop smiling that you made your little ball of energy a meal he enjoyed.

~~~

Zoro: 

Zoro wasn’t really a foodie like his captain but when it came to you he didn’t hesitate to try everything you made. Especially if it was just made for him. The very first time you tried cooking for him it ended with him asking for more. He originally thought you were feeding him some of Sanji’s leftovers in the fridge. (Hidden from Luffy) When you told him that you cooked it earlier in the day he stopped eating. Worried, you asked him if he liked it and he responded with “You made this..?” and you nodded slowly. “This is fucking delicious.” You immediately smiled and giggled, relieved there wasn’t anything wrong. “I’ll take some more if you got any left, baby..”

~~~

Sanji:

After being with him for a while you’d obviously pick up on a couple of things, he was the Straw Hats cook after all. Some things you took note of was how he’d chop the onions or dice the tomatoes. Usually he would have you tasting his food but soon enough, on one sunny day he found himself being the taste-tester. You nervously placed down the dish of Seafood Rice (or whatever food you want it to be) and set down a fork and knife for him, he gently smiled. He knew not to judge too harshly since this was one of your first times cooking in a while. Then he took a fork full of it, chewed and swallowed. “Darling, with all honesty, this is one of the best dishes I’ve had in a while.” He continued to eat and cleared the plate. “You should cook more often honey.” ~~~

Finish Line!

(Comment if you would like a part 2 with other various one piece men.) Consider following..? Thank you so much for reading!