#his hair was so difficult to draw and it's not even that similar to how it looks in the trailer

[stickynotelovers-art]

I haven't truly emphasized on here how much I absolutely adore the Devil May Cry series! It is, and has been for years, one of my top 3 games series to play. I feel so pumped after seeing the trailer and I am really glad to see my wonderful Wahoo Pizza Man getting some much deserved attention! There were so many references and visual clues to several parts of the franchise! I'm very excited to see where they go with the show!

I am still working on my asks and other Turtle stuff, but this is just kind of my way of saying that there will probably be DMC related art happening! 🥰🥰🥰

[catboy-cyrus]

I love drawing pokemon villains I do but god fuckinf damn some of them are hard to draw. If I haven't drawn a guy its because I'm fighting tooth and nail in firealpaca and loosing.

[moonstruckme]

hi i have a request that you're obviously under no obligation to answer but i saw that you did a royal au for sirius and i was wondering if you'd be open to doing another?

something like they're in a secret relationship and they're at the same ball and trying to act like they're the picture of good behavior but sirius is being subtly flirty and a menace?

Thanks for requesting sweetheart! Slight deviation, they're not together but this takes place just a bit after the first one <3

prince!Sirius x princess!reader ♡ 2.2k words

Seeing as balls are generally marketed as the pinnacle of refinement, you hadn’t expected this to be so loud. 

Every time the hum of conversation rises, someone keeps telling the musicians to play louder too, until people have to raise their voices and it starts over again. A victor-less battle. You have an inkling that it might all be easier to handle if you had just a bit more wine, but you’re on your best behavior for your new family.

You try not to wrinkle your brow, leaning closer to the man in front of you as the violins crescendo. “Sorry?” you ask, politely as you can. 

A flicker of irritation crosses his face. You try not to wince. He tells you the title of his job again. 

“Ah.” You nod, trying to look as though you understand the importance of this jumble of fancy-sounding words. “That’s so interesting. What does that entail?” 

He’s thrilled you’ve asked. As the man launches into a thorough description of his day-to-day duties for the kingdom, you contemplate how surprisingly relevant a competence in lip-reading might be to your new role as princess. Is this something you’re going to have to do all of the time? You haven’t been able to make out half of what this man has said since he made his way over to you. 

It’s pointless anyway. As soon as you notice Sirius Black standing behind him, you’re gone. 

It’s been hardly a week since your illicit meeting with the Black heir. You’d munched on chicken nuggets, traded complaints about palace life and your wildly different upbringings. When a guard had come to fetch him back to his parents you’d hid behind the door, and to the best of your knowledge you’ve both pretended the meeting never happened ever since. 

Now, he’s dark and gleaming under the light from the chandelier. He smiles dashingly at someone shaking his father’s hand, standing beside both of his parents and slightly in front of another boy you suppose must be his brother. You haven’t actually seen anyone in his family before now, but the connection isn’t difficult to draw; they’re eerily similar. Pitch black hair and pale skin stretched tight over delicate bones. Most horrifying of all, they’re wearing identical shades of black, the homogeneity of the men’s suits too precise to be incidental, except…

Sirius’ suit jacket shimmers with a silver sheen in certain lights. 

Your lips curve before you can stop them. You hardly know him, but already this seems typical; he has to be different. Has to set himself apart. It’s less tiresome than it ought to be. 

As though your thoughts have been broadcast across the room, Sirius’ head turns minutely in your direction. His eyes catch you and hold you.

It’s lucky the man standing in front of you doesn’t seem to notice how your gaze has wandered. He chatters on, unaware that your palms have slickened or that your heart has started pittering fiercely inside your chest. Sirius says something to his companions and peels off. He starts towards you. 

You look back to your conversation partner, managing a nod of faux comprehension just before he reaches you. 

You let your eyes flare as he stops beside the two of you, willing some surprise into your expression, but your voice comes out even more startled than you intend when you hiccup out, “Your highness.” 

“Your highness,” Sirius says back, the faintest of smirks curving his lips as he inclines his head to you, then the man in front of you. “Lord Chamberlain.” 

Shit. How does he know this guy’s name and you don’t? 

Lord Chamberlain looks nearly as caught offguard by the prince’s notice as you are. “Your highness.” He puffs up. “I didn’t realize we would be enjoying your presence this evening.” 

“Yes, my brother was supposed to be the only one accompanying my parents on this visit.” Sirius sounds even more polished than the last time you spoke with him. There’s an easy grace to his posture, an inherent knowledge of the tiny moves that allow one to conform to the etiquette of this culture which you’re still struggling to grasp yourself. But his eyes flash when they meet yours, a glimpse of that waggish boy you met in the sitting room. “However, during my last visit I found an interest in your lovely kingdom I’ve not had before.” 

Lord Chamberlain begins to prattle on about the perfect astuteness of the prince, the many, many attractive qualities of your kingdom, few of which would be quite so perfect if not augmented by himself…Sirius nods with practiced diplomacy, waiting only for the man to take a breath before he turns his attention fully to you. 

“I hoped you might join me for a dance,” he says, leaning closer so he doesn’t have to raise his voice over the music. “The next one is about to start.” 

“Oh I’m not supposed—” You cut yourself off, eyes darting to the courtier monitoring you from the edge of the room. You imagine you’re not supposed to say what you’re not supposed to do. “I’m really not much for dancing.” 

“Come on.” Sirius’ expression is teasing. “It’s rude to turn down an invitation from your guests. Isn’t it, Lord Chamberlain?” 

Lord Chamberlain looks as though if Sirius proves that he knows his name another time he might be in danger of swooning. 

“Yes,” he chokes out. His eyes when they meet yours are something akin to desperate. “Princess, it’s good form.” 

You catch yourself chewing the inside of your lip, stopping as you look back to Sirius. You don’t think he would tattle on you for violating whatever atavistic rule requires you to dance with him, but Lord Bootlicker might. 

“All right,” you say. Far less polite than society allows, you’re sure, but Sirius grins nonetheless. 

“Excellent.” He takes your hand, leading you away. “Always a pleasure, Lord Chamberlain.” 

The other man stands where you left him for a handful of moments, looking dazed, before beelining towards a server carrying refreshments. 

“I don’t know any of the dances,” you hiss at Sirius as he guides you onto the floor. “I’m supposed to be staying away from here.” 

“It’ll be fine,” he promises you, with the sort of confidence only a silver spoon can imbue. “If you just follow in the direction I lead you, your dress will cover up any missteps and I promise not to squeal if you step on my toes.” 

You try to give him a droll look, but you can already feel it happening. You’re succumbing to his charms again. 

There are only a few other partners around you, but here in the center of the room the noise seems even more overwhelming. Conversations overlap, laughter rings out, and music echoes off every wall in the large room. And just in front of you, still holding your hand, Sirius Black is watching you with his flagrant intensity. Even his eyes are too loud. 

He leans close to your ear, breath fanning over your cheek. “Scoping out your dancing competency wasn’t really my aim,” he says. “I only wanted to get you close enough to have a conversation without shouting.” 

You fear your thoughts must be bare in your expression. That afternoon in the sitting room was certainly memorable for you, but you were far from expecting Sirus to single you out afterwards. For all his talk about the novelty of you, he seems like the sort of person to have interesting interactions wherever he goes. 

“Put your hand on my shoulder.” 

You blink. “Huh?” 

Sirius grins, and you realize your slip. No matter how the courtiers you’ve been assigned have drilled into you excuse me, sorry, pardon?, Sirius undoes all your practiced manners with ease. 

“Your hand,” he says again, “goes on my shoulder.”

Just as you settle it tentatively atop of the faintly shiny material of his suit jacket, the music starts. Sirius places a sure hand on the small of your back and grins when you jolt. 

“Easy,” he murmurs, taking your other hand and tugging you gently to the side. Everyone else steps that way too, and you let him lead you through the first steps of the dance. “I won’t bite. Not in front of your grandmother, anyway.” 

You press your lips together to hold in a laugh, eyes finding your grandmother, the Queen, watching you from across the room. She’s smiling faintly, but the courtiers with her look less than pleased. 

You swallow, turning your attention back towards Sirius. “They’re upset with me,” you say. It’s a relief to speak at a normal volume. You know your proximity means he’s the only one who can hear you. “I told you I’m not supposed to be dancing.” 

“They’re not upset that you’re dancing, they’re upset you’re with me,” he replies easily. He guides you into a turn that curls you into him, his arm laying across your chest for just a moment before he turns you back out. “I have a bit of a repute.” 

This, of all the things you’ve learned about Sirius Black, is the least surprising. 

“So, you’re trying to ruin me, then?” you ask, half teasing. 

Sirius grins sharp as a knife. He leans close. “Sweetheart, I want to ruin you in all sorts of ways. That’s just not one of them.” 

Your momentary confidence drops right down to your stomach. If you thought you’d be able to play with Sirius and keep up, clearly you were wrong. 

“We’re going to do a spin,” he warns breezily, saving you from any response. He lets go of your waist, holding your joined hands aloft and using them to guide you away from him and into a twirl.

Only, you go for it too quickly. You’re back in his arms while the other partners are still going through their slow turns. Sirius’ laughter barks out of him loud and sharp before he catches himself. 

“Oh my god,” you mumble, resting your forehead on Sirius’ chest and shutting your eyes in mortification. 

“Hey, it’s alright.” Sirius is still shaking with quiet laughter. His hand is friendly on the small of your back. “That was stunning. All the other ladies wish their skirts had fanned out the way yours just did.” 

“Is skirt fanning really the object of the dance, though?” 

“It’s eye-catching,” he maintains. You can hear the smile in his voice. “You can make anything lovely. Now stop hiding before one of your keepers has a stroke.” 

You remove your face from his chest hastily. Your eyes flit to the courtier at the room’s edge before you return them to Sirius, cheeks burning. 

His look softens. “Don’t fret, gorgeous, you’re not the only one who’s committed a faux-pas just now. That laugh earned me a proper glare from my mother. As soon as the dance is over, they’ll throw us into the dungeons together.” 

“Well, at least it’ll be nice to have someone to talk to down there.” You bite down on a smile. Sirius, you’re beginning to notice, has a way of making all your worries about fitting into polite society feel silly. Nothing feels very serious when he’s around. Ironically enough. “Do we really have a dungeon?” 

Another startled chuckle goes through him. This one is quiet enough not to raise any eyebrows, more’s the pity. “Not one currently in use. It’s a relic, with a door going out to the street so tours can go through.” He smiles, borderline sheepish. “I went on one when I was twelve.” 

“You did?” You can’t stop the smile that leaps up on your face now. It shouldn’t be so easy to picture Sirius as a child, but it surprisingly is. A bit shorter and skinnier than he is now, skin and bones and night-black hair darting around and causing trouble. It’s an odd feeling to think that he explored your family’s palace long before you could, somehow both twinging and reassuring at once. “Is there a reason you’ve been here so often?” 

Sirius looks genuinely surprised at that. “No one’s told you?” At your bemused look, he blinks, seeming to compose himself. His hand flattens on your back. You hadn’t realized he’d been gripping you. “Our families have been friends for literal centuries. My great-great-great-aunt was close with your great-great-whatever, and we’ve never let our claws out of each other.” He gives you a conspiratorial look, leaning closer. “I can’t attest to the relationship between the current ruling generations being quite so amicable, but we cling to each other nonetheless. Trade relations and all that. All that is to say,” he backs up, gifting you with a smile, “we really will be seeing a lot of each other.” 

“Oh.” Your chest flutters with an unidentifiable feeling. You don’t know if you can handle seeing much more of Sirius Black. Every time you meet, it’s like he whittles away all your weeks of training and posture correction with a look. You’ll never make any progress if he’s constantly around to trip you up. “That’s nice.” 

“You’re doing remarkably well,” he notes. You look up, for a moment worrying that he’s read your mind (he seems prone to doing that), but Sirius goes on. “I don’t know what you were talking about earlier, you’re a natural at this. My toes remain unsquished.” He gives you a secret smile. You return it wobbily. “There’s another spin coming up,” he says with a teasing glint in his eyes, “think you can handle it?” 

Honestly? You think you’re already dizzy enough. 

[occamstfs]

Should've Worn Green

Happy St. Patrick's Day! Figured I couldn't miss the best Irish Tf day of the year eh? Best! -Occam

Charles didn’t account for the drunks storming the streets today when he was getting ready this morning. Why should he have to step out of his way to avoid getting beer spilled on him. Nevertheless perhaps the accountant should have checked the calendar before wandering into the streets without wearing a hint of green.

Such a blunder would not long go unpunished however. Compact as he is, he nimbly ducks out of the way of glasses clinking in brutish hands raised high. He scoffs at their total disregard for sanitation as they spill beer all over each other in the cheers. Barely avoiding getting drenched himself Charles bumps into a figure who drunkenly laughs before reaching out towards him.

“Aye! Shoulda worn green lad! ‘S St. Paddys!” He shouts as he pinches the already frustrated clerk who yelps and slaps at the hand. Not even pausing to dignify the man with a verbal response, he pushes forward to not be late for work.

He stumbles onward, reaching the edge of the crowd and finally takes a break. In the scarcely fresher air, his stomach lurches and he leans onto a building to avoid falling over. His shoulder itches as he almost feels what can only be described as vertigo? He looks over the crowd angrily, sure that they are to blame for whatever this episode is, contemplating going back toward whoever assaulted him but every face in the crowd is impossibly similar. Jesus, he’s never seen so many redheads in one place?

Wondering if he’s somehow woken up in Ireland proper he feels a breeze on his midriff. Not only has his shirt been untucked but the skin exposed suggests it never could have been tucked in the first place. It’s as if he’s grown half a foot. Charles starts hyperventilating, trying to convince himself his shirt must have shrunk in the wash, though surely he would have seen his exposed belly button when he put it on no? 

He again looks towards the crowd seeking anything to blame for his state. This makes it evident that he has grown indeed, now  able to directly make eye contact with men in the crowd. There is a draft on his ankles as his increasing height only becomes more difficult to deny. Charles clenches his jaw as his eyes find the man who simply must be the culprit.

In the middle of the mass of Paddy’s day parishioners, he sees a man staring directly at him, a smirk edging out from under his thick beard. He raises a large glass of Guinness in cheers and Charles can’t help but stare at the man in turn, his anger quickly being replaced by confusion. He winks, the glass still raised, as Charles stumbles backwards trying to avert his eyes. They forcibly return to this man each time taking in a new facet of his impossibly masculine body. The jungle of hair in his pits draws him in as if there’s a fire in his still-raised arm. His powerful chest is covered in a similar forest of beyond dense red hair.

Charles, unbeknownst to himself, continues to hungrily stare at the statuesque man as the pitch-black coif on his own head begins to bleach as a red tint starts to force its way up from his roots. He scratches at his face wondering how he forgot to shave before work. Oh, work? He needs to get to work right? His eyes retreat from the specimen to check his watch. He raises his arm to check his watch creating a tear in his suit as his bicep involuntarily flexes. His face reddens just as his hair continues to do, his anger towards the crowd returns as they have clearly forced him to not only be late to work, but to arrive wearing less than his prestigious work demands of him.

Before enacting whatever meager retribution his increasingly muddy mind decides he looks up to see the mysterious man approaching him through the crowd. His body involuntary clenches in fear, each instinctual flex creating new tears in his workday attire. His chest bursts into existence shooting his shirt’s buttons far into the dancing crowd. Tears appear down the length of his dress pants revealing tight briefs barely hanging together underneath. He rips off the rest of his suit jacket lest it impede him as he prepares to bolt from the rapidly approaching giant, though with each surge of growth coursing through Charles the man seems less menacing and massive, and more familiar.

He again scratches at his shoulder as he begins to notice that someone in the crowd desperately needs a shower. At least he thinks it's the crowd, he looks towards his own pits questioning his cleanliness and sees pits with thin dark hairs. But that can’t be right? Surely they should be red like all his other hair. He flexes his pecs and watches the ginger hair on his torso dance in the morning sun. Laughing before he returns his attention to his pits that are rapidly agreeing with his assessment and growing thick and red, they also make it clear that the sudden stink in the air could be no one but him.

It’s chill though Charles thinks, he’s been partying all morning with the guys, he’s sure they’ll get it. Smirking to himself not even noticing how swiftly he has assimilated to being one of the parishioners that have taken over the block. As he stands there, his red pubes increasingly showing above his crotch as his briefs are weighed down with each growing pulse in his crotch. 

Finally the smirking Irishman who started it all makes his way over shouting,  “Ay Charlie! Yer gunna have to cover up ya! Shame we’re not Scots or I’d toss ye a kilt, Ha! And ‘Ere lad don’t be standing around without a drink in hand.” He tosses a large cup at Charlie who catches it, though losing the head as it splashes all over him, matting his ginger curls to his chest and revealing the most intricate details of his still-growing bulge.

Charlie cheers at the man who must be a friend, or at least a countryman, before quickly starting to down the tankard. As he swallows the swill he swiftly loses whatever smidge of himself that remained in this northern paragon of a body. His chest fills out with a bit of weight as beer trickles down the beard expanding further down his face. As he swallows his voice develops into an impossible to mistake accent. It’s just, didn’t he have something to do today? His brown eyes sparkle as they brighten to a green bright enough to be in the tricolor as he laughs. What could he have to do today more important than celebrating his home country! America is fine and all that but fwoh, could certainly stand to be more like his homeland. Charlie, tired of thinking so much on a day like this, gives into a primal urge of celebration and joins the bacchanal. Charles Morris would not arrive to push whatever buttons and keys he was supposed to at work that day. But Charlie Mulligan was having the greatest time of his life, as he would continue to do evermore.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Price prepares for his first date with Nik. 141 rib him.

CW: none.

Price stared into the mirror above his sink and wondered when the fuck all those lines on his face had arrived. Last time he’d looked, he could have sworn there were fewer, and there had been no grey either, but now he saw traces of his old man in the reflection and that made his stomach twist unpleasantly.

In all fairness, he didn’t really have much reason to look–really look–at his own face. Even when he was smearing camo around his eyes and down his cheeks, he was only looking for areas of shine that might draw an enemy’s eye. He never really considered why else someone might be lookin’.

Why Nik might be lookin’.

“Bloody hell,” he breathed as he began gathering up his shaving bowl and the badger-fur brush he only got out on special occasions; medal ceremonies, weddings, funerals and now, apparently, bloody dates. Why the fuck he had even agreed to it in the first place he had no idea, but Nik was surprisingly romantic given what Price knew about the rest of his life, and it was difficult to say no when he turned on those eyes. The word ‘no’ felt like booting a Labrador in the face.

Price stashed his shaving kit away and turned back to the mirror to check the rest. He had been pretty sure the shirt he had scrounged from the bottom of his paltry wardrobe hadn’t seen the light of day since the early noughties, and that had been confirmed when he’d pulled it around his shoulders and the buttons had gaped over his chest. Twenty years ago he’d been a lot leaner, but two decades of focused gym sessions, hard graft and being battered in the field had left him with a lot more heft. He’d pulled on a white t-shirt underneath and left it open, hoping he didn't look too much like someone's dad trying to look ten years younger.

Hair waxed into place, beard conditioned, aftershave and cologne–but not enough to register as chemical warfare–and he was as good as he was gonna get. He had never been asked on a date, only ever done the asking, and even then the sum total of his dating efforts as a young man had ended in disaster. Cold fish and chips on the riverfront and getting your leg over in the nearby park, only to fumble that too, wasn’t exactly peak romance, even at fifteen years old, and somehow he didn't think Nik had anything similar in mind.

Fifteen years old. That had been--

Oh, fuck. He was not equipped for this in the slightest.

Price’s phone beeped and a glance at the message confirmed Nik had arrived on base to pick him up. Bang on time too. Price took one final look in the mirror, grimaced, shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. Fuck it. It would have to do. Nik had seen him looking like the arse end of a donkey, so this… jitter in Price’s chest felt bloody stupid.

“Get a fuckin’ grip,” he murmured to himself as he snatched his wallet and keys from his bed and shut the door behind him. Unfortunately for Price, the rest of 141 were eagerly awaiting his appearance in the rec room and all looked up when he closed the door. He immediately regretted not exiting through the open window in his room.

“Well, well, cap, don’ ye brush up nice. G’ies a twirl,” Soap said, leaning forward with a wide grin that informed Price he was about to endure a good five to ten minutes of focused ribbing.

“Watch it, MacTavish,” Price replied, but without heat. He felt like a prize twat and this was Soap’s roundabout way of helping.

“Och, c’mon noow,” Soap spread his hands and turned to Garrick for support, “Gaz, back me up…”

Garrick looked up from his phone and tilted his head to the side, clearly evaluating just how much he wanted to chance Price putting him on the worst details for the next week. Apparently, he was feeling pretty fucking lucky that evening. “Pretty sure my dad owns that shirt, Tav. Very… uh, early noughties chic. What d’ya think, Ghost?”

Price could count on Simon to fight his corner against these two reprobates. Or so he thought. Simon leaned back, arms folded across his chest, and examined Price for a beat before choosing violence. “Pretty sure I saw it last about ten years ago,” Simon said, and then shook his head. “Happy to drop a pony on a new striker xt gen 2 so you can have the ranger green as well as the steel grey, but couldn’t cough up a few quid on a new shirt, sir.”

“You’re all bastards, and I you’ll be shovelling the shit next week once I get back to my desk,” Price growled.

A round of groans followed, and Soap rolled up to his feet. “C’mon, sir, we’re just jossin’. As my ol’ nan used tae say: a pritty face suits the dish-cloot.”

“Dish cloth chic,” Gaz said, grinning.

“Ah mean he looks bonnie, right? ‘Side, we need to cut the ol’ man some slack. When was th’ last time ye got tae let yer hair doon, sir?”

“Not long enough,” Price said, pinching the bridge of his nose and planning to beast the trooper delaying Nik at the checkpoint.

“I reckon the last time was when Usher was in the charts. What was the song? Ooh-whoop ooh-whoop, ooh-whoop ooh-whoop, shit, what was it called?”

Price decided that Garrick would be organising a mock dawn raid for the freshest batch of recruits. He would make sure the weather forecast was grim.

“Wait, wait, lemme get it up on Spotify. We c'n get cap in the mood tae drop tha’ thang. Reckon Nik’s an animal on the dancefloor, aye? Ha! Found it. ‘Yeah’ by Usher.”

Soap would be joining Garrick. Full weighted kit.

Price watched as the two sergeants bounced around enthusiastically to a song from 2004 that was, by Price’s estimations, only a year older than the shirt he was currently wearing. Fucking disaster. He looked at Simon, who was watching Johnny with that far away look he always did when he thought no one else would notice.

“You have started the party without me, I see,” said a familiar voice at the door. Price looked over and nearly choked on his own tongue. Nik looked fucking good. White button down open at the collar, black slacks, polished shoes, with his hair freshly cut. Simple, but classy. Price tugged at his sleeve and rubbed the back of his neck, hoping the heat he felt under his skin hadn't translated into a flush.

Nik appraised Price with those same soft eyes that had implored him from the cockpit of his damn helicopter for a date. Price cleared his throat. “You scrub up good, Nik.”

“I could say the same. But you are always the prettiest thing in any room to me, captain.”

Price’s face burned to the very tips of his ears.

“Ah, Nik! Watcha mate, how're you doin’?” Garrick bounded over and threw his arm around Nik’s shoulders for a half hug.

“Ye better have him home by ten!” Soap called from where he stayed slouched on the sofa.

“Of course, sergeant.”

“Nik, let's go, and you lot, get an early night. Pay back's a bitch.”

Nik smiled and stepped aside with what was definitely a bloody half bow to let Price out of the rec room first to a chorus of groans and entreaties for mercy from the two sergeants. Price and Nik emerged into the night air and had almost reached the car before Nik took Price's hand and drew him to a stop. “You are nervous.”

Price cleared his throat, sniffed, and did his best to come off as nonchalant. “Nah, I'm grand, just realised I’ve not got the clobber for this kind of thing, or the, uh… expertise. I'm worried you'll be disappointed.”

Nik looked at him blankly.

“Ah, sorry, my… clothes. It's been a long time since–”

Nik took his chin and lifted his eyes from where they had drifted to the ground. The kiss he placed on Price’s lips was tender, fleeting compared to their first shared under the downdraft of spinning helicopter blades, but it made Price's heart stutter just the same.

“You look good…” Nik released his chin to push both hands into Price’s hair, mussing it out of its careful arrangement. Next, he reached around the back of Price’s belt and tugged his t-shirt free. “Hm, now better.” Price swallowed hard, trying not to be too obvious about inhaling Nik’s scent as he pressed in close.

“Scruffy more like.” Price was still getting over the feeling of Nik’s fingers in his hair, brushing the skin on his back. Nerves had been replaced by the soft thrum of something warm in his chest.

“Nyet. English country boy with rough edges and blue eyes. You are honest, John Price. And a good man. It is what I have always loved most.” Nik opened the car door as Price gawped at him with wide eyes. When his senses had returned, Price realised Nik had rented a nondescript BMW for his stay, with leather interior and a fully digital media system. Plush. “After you.”

“Where’re we goin’?” Price asked as he slid into the passenger seat.

“Is surprise.”

“Bloody hell, and here I was thinkin' we’d go out for a movie and a pint.”

Nik grinned, tapping the beemer into ‘Drive’. “I will have the captain back before he turns into pumpkin, or the lieutenant mounts a rescue mission.”

Price chuckled as Nik pulled away into the night. Thankfully, Usher didn't feature in the evening‘s itinerary.

[bear-remn]

Girl, I’m addicted to your blog! It’s so creative and captivating; I can feel the vibrant energy between the characters. It’s truly rewarding to have so many brilliant artists in the fandom <3

I can’t wait to see a headcanon about Subaru; I think I’m going to die when that moment arrives.

(I'm sorry for any inconsistencies; my english isn't the best yet, and I sometimes need help :T)

— subaru headcanons!

omg ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ ty so much for your kind words! i felt appreciated reading it so thanks for making my day! youre such a sweetheart, ty again for support my blog and my art (๑´>᎑<)~*

here i bring subaru, and it was a little more difficult than with the rest of the sakamakis, maybe bc i dont get most of subarus actions, i think he is the one with more inconcistencias in his development so i hope i dont dissapoint with it, he is so difficult but so easy at the same time im going crazy.

tw: this post contains nsfw (+18)!!! if you dont like that content dont read it!

i spent so much time drawing this and it was so worth it, and i really was a little off with drawing him angry or neutral so i draw him with two cute little smiles, i also hated his hair during sketching this, fk desing, but i love it so much ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

his looks and selfcare

i think subaru is very handsome, like his brothers, but he dont know it, he dont realize how good looking he is. i can imagine subaru being constantly approached by his classmates, both woman and men, but since he ghe way he is, his appearance got overpowered by his personality.

i also think, maybe a little too out of the clue but, i think subaru face most of the time is like a little angry, without realizing it, his eyebrows furrow giving an angry image, even if he is not, it is like his face of rest. angry rest face.

i think subaru is very similar to his mother, but with the structure of his father, i imagine subaru with slanted eyes, a straight nose, and his strong jaw makes his face come together so well. i like to think subaru has a gentle gaze, not a killer one like ayato, maybe bc he is constantly on his past and feels pity for another living being, something in between.

i think subaru has one of the most hipnotizing eyes, not like his brothers tho. i like to think he is has more the kind of eyes shu has, like a deep color and with a fixed expression. i like to think they, shu and subaru, are very alike even if they have different mothers.

i belive subaru is the kind of man that don't sweat much, even so, i do think subaru likes to shower often, i think he is more into long hot boiling baths, and if he is more stress than normal, he totally is gonna ask for ayatos bath bombs or so, dont like candles tho. and i also think sometimes he fell asleep during some baths.

i think subaru might like sweet scents even if he deny it, he loves sweet smells. maybe a good vanilla or a coconut one, but i do see him liking sweet fruits, such as strawberries, peaches, and apples. specially peaches. he likes it on his shampoo, his conditiones, his bar soap and even the liquid soap for hands. but not on perfume.

i think subaru likes more mint, lemon or so when it comes to perfume.

oh, i think subaru also has more of straight hair than curly hair, you know when a part of your is more curly or has more volume than another part? thats subarus hair for sure, so he tends to make it even by brushing it.

i think subaru's body is... very very... like... hot you know? like he is tall and more thick than his brothers, with a wide back and shoulders. i also love imagine subaru with big arms and his forearms?? his hands?? just thick. very strong and definetly has veins in his arms without making an effort. and as shu, he also as a thick waist and a very strong and gooooood looking v line. and also has a happy trail. i mean. do you imagine him shaving often? his beautiful silver hair? no, he doesnt shave too much.

i think subaru, as rare as it might sound, gets hair on his chest, that hair he shaves it, but the hair of the rest of his body not too much, and its not visible either. like, white hair on his pale skin? not on easy sight.

oh, and he also has thick fingers and his nails are pretty avegare, but for some reason the nail of his pinky grows faster than the others, so he thens to bite that one.

and about his style, i do belive subaru only likes basics and neutrals clothes, but don't like to feel things around his neck, it get on his nerves, dont like oversize clothes either.

and to finish, subaru is like his two olders brothers and can't grow a hole beard, subaru shaves it right away when he sees a little bit of hair, makes him feel old too.

random stuff

to start off with this man. i have some thought on his behavior. like have you guys seen how jelaous he is? he is maybe the most childish one out the sakamakis when it comes to jealousy. and thats canon for me.

but i do see him being very passive aggressive with the people he enjoys to hang out, like if you are with him and you ask him for a pencil, he will just say no and then pass it to you. and with a dead ass angry face. no reason for it. or if you ask him a favor he will say "fuck off" and then do it.

i hate the fact of subaru not having not one single fucking hobby, wtf?? i dont belive it. i do think he might have tried stuff and just dont get too into it. but not every hobby, like maybe reading existencial poetry or even drawing or painting, i do see him as a artist kind of guy lol. i imagine subaru in his teen years, some time has passed since his mother died, and he always tries to paint in oil white roses, just to keep her mother in his mind but he hates it so much he destroys every stencil he makes.

i also think he might have tried to draw animals in the woods close to the manor but the animals moved so much he got frustrated and never tried again.

and maybe, a little sad, but he hates to cry, so he just let his tears fall from his eyes and bites on his lips to not make a sound, he will hate his brotheres to see him cry.

i think, subaru used to bite his nails, thinking and trying to understand his mother but at his age it was so confusing for him. and the hate just for seeing his father will make him bites on his fingers as well. he was very anxious in his childhood and no one, even when he tried to get close to the triples bc he wanted to play with them, he was left apart, so he never felt a part of anything, but i do belive subaru still want to be a real brother even if he dont know how to.

i think, even if subaru says otherwise, subaru likes spicy food, like hot flaming food, likes how it feels in his troat.

i also think he is more into weight lifting, thats why his body is more thick than his brothers that does another kind of excersize.

and as ayato, always feels anxious when is close to something religios, just feels weird and ridiculous for him. church's specially.

and i like to think, i know he will do it, when subaru can't sleep he taps the wood of his coffin whith his fingers on the beat on songs, like really soft and just for him to hear. eventually his fingers will stop bc he fall asleep.

or if he is bored he definetly play with his knife, like when the moonlight is bright on his window room. subaru will take his knife out and reflect the light on the silver, playing a little with it. sometimes he does this with his brothers when they are in the garden just minding their bussiness, making the little light come into their eyes and then hiding behind the curtains in his room. can't laugh, either way his brothers will know he was the one messing with them.

nsfw

ok, so.... his dick....

i belive, on my knees, that he always have the same size, like, you know meat team? yea... that. i see him as a good 18 cm, its thick and heavy, his balls too, the man is just a little too big for his own good. also has two prominent veins coming from his crocht to the tip, wich is a pretty soft salmon color. he keeps some hair but not too long, just enough to have a slight happy trail of his silver hair.

i think subaru is definetly a dominant, but not a harsh one, something like a service dom, he don't mind if you are on top or start things, but do likes to have most control of situations. but he don't seek a too submissive partner either, he wants you to desire it as much as he does. bc he does.

i think subaru is not good at flirting so much... i mean, i have to say it, subaru is rather shy when it comes to romance, basically bc he thinks he does'nt deserve any kind of love or affection, so yea, kinda difficult. so i think his way to show you he cares for you or is interested in you is quality time, like, i imagine subaru hanging out with you and just listening to whatever you're saying, and talking for him really makes him more interested for you, he is not the kind of guy that will see first your looks, it has not a single one bit of appeal for your body at first. and definetly he will not make the firts move, and im not talking about kissing, i am talking about fucking holding hands. yes.

and when he is feeling more confortable with you, subaru will start to checking you out, like watching your legs when you cross them, even if you have pants, the man is intriged. or if you have your hair up he cannot take his eyes off your neck, he really craves your physical touch. and if you catch him looking at you he will simply mess with you "what? im not watching you, just a fly pass by" yea he's that.

in other ocasions if he smells a change of scent due your perfume, he will get close to you but not enought to touch your skin "peaches? uh... not bad i suppose" but the man is obsessed.

and when the times come, when you kiss him subaru is a little taken aback but will hold you close and look into your eyes "are you sure? if you get involved with me, you will never go back to your old life, think wise or else you'll end up like me" but ofc, you choose him.

since that moment, he will bite you more often, but more gentle and hold you more close to his body, i imagine him biting your neck and drinking a little of you blood to then lick the wounds and kiss them so they can heal better, his kisses go up until his lips reach yours.

oh and his kisses? omg.

but before talking of subaru kisses, i have to say this.

i think subaru is very... like, into physical touch but in a more intimate way of, like very sutile and mature. idk but. i imagine subaru hanging out with you, maybe watching a movie and if the pose while sitting fit. subaru will have one of his hands caressing you back under your shirt. like not sexually intended, just likes to feel your skin every chance he gets. and don't put his nails againts your back bc he know you may get ghostbumps. he definetly is more of a back guy than a boob or ass man.

and if the moment pops out, and you're sitting in subaru's lap, he will touch your belly gently while resting his head on your shoulder. he loves that kind of contact with you, it means a lot to him.

and if youre using a loose shirt he have more freedom to touch as he wish, and... im losing it.

subaru in some moment will get heated by your body, since vampires can't produce body heat like humans, and will mess with you for that, but in a different way you may think "lean more againts me... your back is more hot when you're on my lap huh... don't you dare to get up" his lips are in your nape, gently kissing it while touching your belly. and if youre moving too much on top of him he might get a little bit worked up. so he will take you by your jaw and make you face him for a wet kiss.

he is'nt much of words in those moments, for him, your eyes say everything he needs to know. so... his kisses.

little detail about subaru, i dont think he will do anything with someone he is'nt truly interested, i mean, really into you, so he is'nt dry or something like that, he is very much passionate about everything he does to you and with you.

so now, his kisses, finally.

subaru likes soft and tender smooches, i see him always trying to kiss you or give you a little peck, ofc when you two are alone, dont like to make things in front of people. don't put on a show. so when the kiss gets hotter, subaru will gently bite on your lip and explore with his tongue your mouth, slowly and with no rush. feeling how hot your tongue is really makes him moan a little into your mouth, can't control his hands when your body is so hot compared to his. loves it.

so, back to the lap situation. subaru will go straight into a wet kiss, sucking on your tongue and pressiong his croch into your ass while squeezing your thigh. his breath in your lips as you hold on his strong arms, feeling how he control himself. subaru will bite your little tongue on his mouth as his hands go to hold gently your tits "ya want it? wanna go to bed or..?" and yes... he tries to be as gentle with you as he can.

i think subaru likes to carry you to bed or his coffin, likes to get your scent into it so he can sleep better later, but can't deny the bed is more confortable.

but sometimes, when the situation is more desesperate, like after a walk or a public event, he will pin you down on the floor and start kissing and biting your neck and chest "you wanted this huh? dont act dumb on me, you know what you do to me" and his hungry eyes for you will melt you completly, subaru with needy eyes is dangerous.

i think subaru don't really likes to put nicknames on you, for him the pretty name of yours feels like sweet honey on his mouth to say, so he definetly calls you by your name always. but sometimes he feels freaky and likes to call you his good girl.

and sometimes while taking off your clothes he rips them apart but not intencionally "fuck, sorry hun, this stupid fabric always gets on the way... i'll buy you a new one, a better one... or maybe you should stay like this in bed forever hehe... " and since subaru is good and nice, he is a service dom.

i think subaru enjoys to make you suffer for his mouth every chance he gets, and he got to know your body so well that he knows how to make you tremble.

subaru loves eating you out, feeling your thighs trembles and holding around his head is everything for him. subaru will lick, suck and kiss your clit, not giving attention to any other part of you body, your climax will be more late but more intense. subaru moans while eating it, hold one of you legs with one hand while the other is holding your hand, feeling how you grip his big fingers and thick knucles. after you cum he don't stop, he will lick clean every part that is wet around your pussy. his chin and lips shiny from your liquids "what? want a taste? hehe" oh, and his eyes? omg his beautiful eyes look hipnotized by your body, watching into your eyes with a gentle yet intense gaze of desire. omfg.

and if you suck him off i imagine him seated and you in your knees, taking his dick in your mouth is kinda of a challenge, bc the man in a little too thick for your little mouth, and he tries not to push you but everything about you is so hot, literally, he sometimes is afraid you may burn him with you body "dont push yourself too much... yes... that's good... youre being such a good girl" but don't like to cum on your face, he has another plans for that.

i think subaru likes to make you cum on his fingers as well, and since his fingers are thick and long enough he easily abuse your g-spot so many times until you cum again, will lick his fingers to then start touching himself as you position yourself for him.

and about positions, i think he is rather simple sometimes but if hes feeling it, might do the pose where he is standing and you're holding in the air with your legs around his waist and your hands in his shoulders. ofc he has the strenght and the size so... yea. in that position subaru is the one in full control, holding you by your butt cheeks making you move up and down on his trobing dick, and your pussy feels so good in that positions, tight and so fucking wet for him. some of your liquids fall to his legs but he can't care less, he is too inmerse in how your jaw drop in every thrust, how your eyes look into his with a needy look and your pink cheeks shine under the soft moonlight "who's my good girl huh?... yes you are... fuck... ya' better milk me good ah.." and feeling how you tighten around him makes his hands hold you more rough and fuck you hard. the wet noises with your moans and his horny grunts makes the air hot to breath, almost like a sauna, your only body heat was enough to make everything around burn in desire.

another position can be reverse coswgirl, but again, he is the one moving your body, not completly tho. i imagine subaru gasping hard while watching how you move your hips and back to have a better access to a deep conection. oh and subaru? he has to bite his bottom lip for how good you look from behind, your back is everything to him and his abs contract at the mere sight of the curvature of your back. his pace become erratic for it. he goes hard and his voice grunts a little over how fast and hard he is pushing into you, eventually subaru push your face into the matress in all four and fuck you until he cums in your back, to then put it in again and slap your ass "wanna rematch? haha" he jokes, not entirely tho.

i also think if you two got into a second round, he will let you have more control than before, will let you ride him as much as you wanted to, but facing you. and he is all into your face expressions. loves to see how your jaw drops and your eyes go blank for some seconds. his hands will squeeze your tits that bounce a little and play with your nipples, loves to make them hard. subaru's eyes sometimes will look how you move your hips, in circles or from back to front or even bouncing a little. he finds your body cute in a sexy way, its little compared by his size, and your little efforts really put a smile in his face.

oh, i also belive subaru likes when you dig your nails into his skin, any part of it, his back, his arms, his abs or his chest, he likes that a lot.

and when you both cums he will do it inside you, feeling how you milk him makes subaru not to pull out never, he is so in love of how your body heat burns every part of him.

"you did good... c'me here... my good girl did so good..."

finally, the aftercare is nice and calm, sweet too. subaru will cuddle you hiding his face in your chest, while he hugs you and tap on your back gently, like he does to his coffin before going to sleep, he wants you to relax as much as he does with that little finger tap he does.

"i love you..."

── more of my content here!

[sunshinescribes]

Between Your Name and A Prayer

Pairing: Dracule Mihawk x Fem!Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+), MDNI!

Summary: There are few who can say they elude Dracule Mihawk, and even fewer who have held his heart. You’ve done both, and it only serves to complicate things when Mihawk seeks to collect your bounty…or so he tells himself.  

Warnings: SMUT! Ex!Mihawk, Angst, Yearning, Fingering, Emotional Sex, Rough Sex (PinV), Reader is a little petty/bratty

Mihawk knows he shouldn’t be doing this. Not again.

He shouldn’t be slipping through a sleepy port town in search of you.

He tries to blame it on your wanted poster, a reminder that you continue to evade the world government—evade him, but the lie is hardly convincing.

Not when he had spent more time than necessary staring down at your new wanted poster, his sharp eyes following the curve of your playful smile and catching on to your eyes, as bewitching as he remembers, and with that familiar glint of mischief shining in them. The look you give is reminiscent of the one you used to grace him with, just before you stole a kiss, or persuaded him back to bed—what feels like a lifetime ago now.

Mihawk tries to shake the aching feeling that blossoms in his chest. Your bounty has gone up significantly. Vice Admirals hiss your name over snail responders; wonder why you haven’t been caught yet. Mihawk is quick to retort sharply that he isn’t at their beck and call, despite what the Admirals might think, and that they can send someone else to catch you, or better yet, find her yourself.

He knows they won’t. It’s as difficult for them to track you down as it is for him, maybe even more so. Besides, they have an…inkling of an idea of what you two once shared. Feelings once held that they think he can use to draw you from the shadows. If only they knew how wrong their assumptions were.

He may be a hunter of sorts, but you are no prey. Mihawk has come to realize that he only finds you when you let him. You leave little clues—hints dripping with nostalgia. You tease him, dare the world’s greatest swordsmen to come and find you, and he accepts the challenge every time with the eagerness of an undisciplined child.  

He has only found you twice, and on both occasions, you looked far too pleased, not surprised in the slightest to see his dark figure slipping from the shadows. You had smiled and teased him in a way only you (and a certain red-haired pirate) would be brave enough to.

You finally showed up, Hawk Eye.

Mihawk despises the epithet from you—the distance it creates, but it’s necessary, isn’t it? It makes it easier to fall into a night of ravenous bliss without considering that you two once shared a home and your hearts.

Mihawk continues to shift through the lifeless town, the chilly midnight air working like a balm to his tortured soul, allowing him a moment of respite as his eyes flit between dimly lit shops. This venture started nearly a week ago with Mihawk idly flipping through the newspaper, curious to see what troubles were brewing in the Grand Line. Little caught his interest as he read, but when he turned to the last page, his eyes lingered on a single photo. An unexpected offering.

You, disguised well and hidden in a crowd, your face was obscured by the hat you wore, similar to the ones donned by those beside you. To anyone else, you were nothing more than another spectator, but the necklace that rested against your collar screamed your identity—the same one Mihawk had placed around your neck a year prior.

What fun you must have finding new ways to reel him in.

The first time Mihawk sought you out, he had been certain of catching you. His objective left him the second your warm eyes fell on him, and your mouth ventured where his body had missed you most. The second time, he had sworn he would not be tempted, but his will had shattered easily. Mihawk lost himself as he pressed you up against the wall of a cramped room in a seedy hostel, your nails digging into the flesh of his bare back while he took you apart as he had done so many times before.

What would he do this time? Mihawk had tried to reason that he would not be so weak-willed—so foolish as to let you reduce him to a man incapable of thinking beyond the flesh—but the certainty he once held was steadily slipping out of reach with each encounter.

A frustrated sigh escapes Mihawk’s parted lips as he stops in front of a shabby tavern. His eyes follow the curves of the poorly painted sign, faded and scuffed from lack of proper upkeep. It’s lifeless. No music pouring out the doors or cheery carols of drunken men. No heady scent of rum or grog. The tavern is completely devoid of life, save for the soft, flickering candlelight that paints the windows in a warm orange hue, and a single slippery patron Mihawk knows is inside.

He ignores the warring voices in his head as he pushes the door open, and there you are.

You sit perched on the counter, legs crossed, and head tilted slightly as you cradle a bottle in your hand. You hum a soft tune, your eyes downcast and far off in thought. Mihawk thinks perhaps your thoughts might be of him, because he recognizes the melody. It’s the same one he used to whisper against your skin in the dead of night, ushering you into a peaceful sleep—just as it had been used for him, back when he was young and hopeless in the arms of a tender-hearted nun.

Your hushed singing halts when the floorboard creaks under the weight of his boots. Your eyes lift, and the somber expression on your face is gone so fast that Mihawk thinks he might have imagined it.

An impish smile graces your features, and your eyes lower as you take in the sight of his lean body, shameless and hungry.

“And here I thought you’d stood me up.”

You’re always quick to crack a joke, dispelling some of the uncertain tension that always brews at the beginning. You want this to be as uncomplicated as possible.

And Mihawk realizes suddenly that he complies, says little beyond your name, and takes what you offer, lying to himself that it is enough—that he will hunger no more afterwards…but his appetite is endless, vicious in how much it craves something it can never have again.

Mihawk takes a step forward, and you uncross your legs instinctively, spreading them in a way that would make the nuns he grew up with faint. Ramera, they would whisper harshly, before slipping into prayer. They would surely have some choice words for him as well.

Your smile slips when he settles on the stool beside you, instead of between your parted legs.

You want this to be uncomplicated, and Mihawk can oblige, as he always does—he can steel his unruly heart and silence the voice that reminds him of better days, sweet and silent moments in a drab castle that seemed to burst with life with you in it. He can do all this, but why should he give you what you want right away?

You sigh disapprovingly, before taking a swig from your bottle.

“So, you’re here to collect my bounty, then?”

Your voice is flat and unamused. Mihawk can’t tell if it’s a display of false bravado or if you believe he wouldn’t be able to manage it.

“I haven’t decided,” he lies.

Of course he has. He always decides. Before he even sets off to find you—before the clues bare themselves before him—deep down, he knows he’ll never raise Yoru against you. Never bring you to the admirals who have hunted you for as long as he can remember. He can play the part of the heartless hunter, but he never truly fulfills the role.

Your sly smile returns. You lean towards him, positioned in a way that makes your collarless shirt dip, exposing the soft flesh of your breasts. Mihawk is quick to look away, but you’re just as perceptive as him. Your eyes catch everything, no matter how minuscule.

You reach for his hat, placing it on your own head.

“How can I convince you to spare me?” You ask sweetly, setting your drink aside.

Stop running away.

The words catch in Mihawk’s throat. He knows why you’re running, why you won’t come back to him, not even if he swallows his pride and asks. The moment the words pass his lips, you’ll pull away. Stop being a warlord, would be your quick reply, and it would spiral into the same argument that had created the impossible distance between you two.

Neither of you would let up. You both would tear open tender scars. It would complicate something already too fucking complicated—shatter the delicate peace you both allow in moments like this.

It will do no good to start a fight he can’t win.

Instead, Mihawk lifts from the stool, reaching to unsheathe Yoru. Your eyes go soft for the briefest of seconds when they fall on the decorated black sword—such a stark contrast to others who have seen him wield it. There’s always fear, sometimes envy, but never fondness. Then again, only you know his sword as intimately as he does.

“You don’t need to convince me,” Mihawk starts, leaning Yoru against the counter, far enough so that it doesn’t become a nuisance. “You only need to take what I give you.”

You raise a curious brow. You’re used to leading these little liaisons, quick to chase pleasure you’ve been deprived of, but this time Mihawk needs something different. He needs you to want just as badly as he does, to see you as helpless as you make him feel.

“And if it’s not enough?” You taunt, always so eager for a reaction.

Mihawk doesn’t humor you with a response. Instead, he positions himself between your spread legs. A myriad of images flash in his mind—delicious ways to break you apart that almost make him shudder in anticipation.

He notices your pert nipples through your collarless shirt, untended. Desire takes him hostage, makes his hands almost shake as he works quickly to unclasp the delicate buttons that keep your skin hidden from him.

“Someone’s excited.”

Mihawk rolls his eyes when you chuckle, low and lovely. You think you have him in the palm of your hand, and you’re not exactly wrong for believing so. Though you’ll learn soon enough how easily he can turn your smart remarks into desperate pleas.

You let out a shaky gasp when you feel Mihawk’s warm mouth kiss your collar, slowly trailing down while his rough hands cup your exposed breasts, kneading the soft flesh. He whispers your name against your skin—perhaps a warning or a promise—before he takes your sensitive nipple in his mouth. A pretty moan rips from your throat when he adds the soft pressure of his talented tongue.

You try not to picture Mihawk between your legs, lapping at your needy cunt with fervor. If the wetness between your thighs is anything to go off of, you’re doing a piss-poor job.

Mihawk breaks away from your tit, a string of saliva following him as he tends to the other. It’s a lovely sensation, but you want more.

You snake your hands downward, attempting to unbutton your pants and slip your fingers where you need them most, but Mihawk denies you. His hands catch your wrist the second you finish with the buttons. Your breast falls from his mouth, and he fixes back to his full height, peering down at you with those piercing eyes of his.

“Hard of hearing, are we?” Mihawk arches a sharp brow, ignoring the murderous expression you wear. He can feel the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “What I give you. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

You glare up at him like a petulant child…such a shift from the confident, easy smile you displayed only minutes before.

Mihawk revels in it for a moment longer before choosing to be altruistic.

He leans close, his soft lips grazing your ear as he whispers, “If you want my fingers inside of you, you’ll take off those pants. Quickly.”

He practically purrs in your ear, his voice richer and deeper than you remember it being. You want so desperately to defy him. His words drip with arrogance that makes you want to bare your teeth at him, regain a modicum of control, but you also burn with such torturous lust—and maybe something sweeter.

You school your emotions, look as irritated as you can manage when you slide down from the counter, quickly pushing your pants down the length of your legs. Mihawk mirrors you, peeling his black coat off, before neatly placing it near Yoru.  

Damn him and his stupid, perfect body.

You kick your pants to the side, tossing his hat along with it for added measure—just in case he thinks you’re happy to do as he says.  

Your faux frustration dissipates the second you’re back on the counter, and Mihawk’s fingers glide across your cunt, coating his digits with your slick. You hear the words he doesn’t speak when he pushes a finger into your hungry hole—who’s excited now?

You shake, eagerly watching the way his finger disappears inside of you.

“Mihawk—”

He shushes you before adding another digit. You hiss—oh god—andhe pushes a little deeper, fucks you a little faster, desperately seeking that soft spot inside of you that makes you see stars.

Mihawk curls his fingers suddenly and knows he found it, because you make the most wrecked noise he thinks he’s ever heard.

Your lashes flutter, sharp curses spill from your plump lips, incoherent and crude. Magnificent…Mihawk muses, transfixed on your micro-expressions—the way your brows pinch together, the subtle tremble of your bottom lip after each pretty sound.

You clench around his fingers, teetering on the edge of your release. Mihawk’s free hand moves as if it has a mind of its own, finding your neglected clit.

Your fingers weave into his hair, pulling him closer. "Fuckfuckfuuuck," you practically cry into his shoulder. You shudder beneath him while a pool of pleasure builds in your core, so dangerously close to bursting.

“More,” you choke out.

The tortuous circles that he rubs against your aching clit are divine, but it isn’t enough. You want to feel full—fuller than his fingers alone can provide.

“Wanna c—hmmmng—c-come on your dick.”

You’re thankful you catch the plea that tries to crawl up your throat.

Mihawk swears under his breath, pulling his fingers out of your sopping pussy. His eyes are heavy, his expression is like that of a drunken man as he glances downward. He groans, watching the way you clench around nothing.

Mihawk doesn’t make you wait long. He’s quick to undo his dark trousers, works with speed even he might not know he possesses to free his aching cock—it’s so lovely, pale with the prettiest shade of pink dusting his thick head. Evidence of his own arousal pours from the slit, mixing with your own slick when he wraps his fingers around the base.

You watch him pump into his hand, getting his dick nice and wet for you. It’s such a beautiful sight, so fucking obscene. You can’t stop the desperate moan that pours from your lips. Can’t stop yourself from calling his name with a hint of urgency in your tone.

“Impatient—” Mihawk hisses, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He gives no warning as he buries himself in your soaking heat. You all but shriek as you feel the brush of his wet fingers against your clit again. “You have what you want. Now come.”

You try to hold out—you don't want him to think that he can make you shatter with a simple command, but your body betrays you. Pleasure rips through you before you can even consider a snide remark, making you cry out loud and cling to his lean frame. You shudder through your orgasm, curse between gasps, and Mihawk can’t look away—can’t stop the way his hips jerk reflexively when your walls flutter around him.

It feels so good, it almost makes him lose what little self-control he has left. Mihawk stills, grits his teeth painfully until his desire becomes just a little manageable. He won’t let this be another quick, meaningless fuck.

Mihawk lifts you with his dick still buried deep inside you. It almost takes you by surprise until you remember just how strong he is. He wields Yoru as effortlessly as one wields a dagger. He has taken down entire fleets with a single attack. Maneuvering from the bar counter to a booth is hardly work.

And you’re thankful for the change, feeling the cushion beneath you. It’s not the softest you've ever felt, but it’s certainly more comfortable than the damn counter.

Though it hardly matters, you don’t get much time to relish it once Mihawk cages you in with his powerful body.

“Missed me—” He thrusts into your heat, his pace downright brutal as his hips slam into yours. “Oh—OH, can’t you feel how much you missed me?”

God, you hate how right he is. Despise the way your cunt sucks him in and clings to his length. You feel the sweet spasms that wrack through you with each vicious thrust—how your walls pulse with a need to be filled in more ways than one.

It feels so fucking good—always does with him—and you’re past trying to deny it. Would you even believe yourself if you tried?

You blink up at him, watching the way Mihawk’s face contorts with pain and pleasure. How his long, dark lashes flutter. The way his delicate lips part and a sound that goes straight to your core escapes. He’s so beautiful—it almost drives you mad thinking about how effortless it is for him, as if he is something divine and otherworldly.

Is this the same way he sees you? When his eyes linger and he looks a little dazed?

His golden eyes lift suddenly, finding yours. Your breath catches at the expression you see hidden in their depths—the unguarded adoration. It’s so different from how he looks at anyone else—a gift only ever meant for you.

Mihawk slows the roll of his hips, moving his hand from where it’s positioned near your head. You can’t anticipate what he’s planning—can’t think beyond the tender look in his eyes.

And then you feel it.

The warmth of his palm as his fingers laces with yours. 

The act is intimate, full of loving intent.

Your heart bursts as you blink up at him. Countless emotions flood through you—unceasing affection that you try to bury, the pain that still lingers, loneliness, frustration, desire—it’s overwhelming in its intensity, chases away the unrelenting conviction you’ve nurtured for months.

“Mihawk,” you call out desperately, “kiss me.”

Mihawk stills, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. He considers it for a moment, leans in ever so slightly before pulling away, cursing in his mother tongue.

He tries to focus on the feeling of you beneath him. Your warm skin, the rhythm of your erratic heart—but your request snags his like a twisted vine. It takes every ounce of defiance to deny you this.

Not unless you tell me you still love me.

Not unless you come back home.

“Mihaawk…”

You hate how your voice comes out in a low whine, but the need to feel his lips against yours is paramount. One final request to satisfy your heartsick soul.

“Too much.” His voice is tight, pained. “You want too much.”

His golden eyes find yours again. You expect his notorious glare, maybe even a sneer for good measure, but you receive neither. His eyes are soft…and a little sad, as if he wishes he could give you everything you desire, but to what end?

Hot, frustrated tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You try so hard to blink them away, but they fall without your permission, running down your cheeks all while Mihawk watches, his sharp brows lifting slightly in surprise.

“I hate you,” you whisper, but there’s no venom in your voice, no spite. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate yo—”

You taste his lips before you feel them—ripe plum from a silver chalice, salt from the sea.

Mihawk melds his mouth with yours, reminding you both of just how perfectly you always fit together. You melt into him, feel lightheaded when he pries your mouth open with his tongue, desperate and hungry, as if he’s trying to siphon the air from your lungs.

Your nails scrape against his scalp, tufts of his dark hair curl around your fingers, and Mihawk breaks.

He rocks his hips suddenly, harshly fucking into you with renewed fervor.

“I hate you,” you say again when he finally breaks away, a string of glistening saliva still connecting you two. The sight alone rips a breathy moan from his throat, and he nods.

“I know,” he dips down, pressing phantom kisses to your lips.

Mihawk knows what you really mean. What you won’t allow yourself to say aloud.

You still love him. You never stopped loving him.

He tries to show you how much he still loves you, pushes himself as deep as he possibly can. Mihawk nearly collapses from the way your velvety walls hug him—so tight and snug that it almost hurts. He knows he’s hitting something delightful inside of you—something that makes you convulse and sob beneath him.

“Please, please—” he hears your voiceless plea.

Mihawk groans, resting his forehead on yours as he pounds into you. He hits so deep that the head of his cock collides with a gummy cluster of nerves, and you tip over the edge with a sharp cry.

Mihawk captures your lips again, swallowing your moans. You tremble, fresh tears slipping from your eyes, while your second orgasm rips through you, so violent and demanding that it feels like it wants to take your soul along with it.

“My heart—” Mihawk grits as your walls massage his tortured cock, take him hostage until he’s pushing impossibly deep. “fuckI’m—"

Mihawk doesn’t finish his sentence—barely even starts it before he’s flooding you. He comes hard, pumping your sweet cunt full of his seed, filling it like it deserves. Your walls squeeze him, milking him for all he’s worth. It’s too fucking much. He shakes through it, euphoria splitting through his body until every ounce of strength is drained from him.

Mihawk collapses, as boneless as you, though he does his best to refrain from resting his full weight on you. He offers you sweet praise. A soft kiss on the corners of your lips, your cheeks, your chin.

“I love you,” Mihawk murmurs against your skin, so low you nearly miss it.

You’re too spent to react, though you’re uncertain of what you would do even if you could. You want the warmth of his touch, his kisses, and honeyed words. You want that fond look in his eyes and the tender care he offers only to you.

But are you willing to forgive? To forget how you two ended up here?

You ignore your mind’s inquiry. You allow yourself to crave, to fall deeper into this pleasant mirage as your eyes grow heavy.

When the sun rises, you will have to face this, but for now, you let yourself slip into a fantasy where you can love him without consequence.

divider credit @/cafekitsune

[bunji-enthusiast]

Requester ⇨ [Hi this is my first time. Can I ask for Lancelot and Tristan (separately) with sassy bubbly s/o who they’ve known their whole life and how their relationship is like. If it’s not to much could you add their nicknames for each other and the cute things they do for their s/o Thank you.]

Heyyyy! Happy to be the very first one you requested! We can always depend on these two boys for the fluff :D also sorry if you see the way my posts are set up, I'm trying to find something to work with that I feel okay with.

Content || grammar errors, sassy banter, fluff, headcanons, gender-neutral reader.

𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚗, 𝚋𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚢 (𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚗!)

Tristan generally loves you very much, even before the two of you were official! But every time you exude such a sassiness that he cannot, he can't help but laugh. The prince of Liones he may be, but you can just call him the prince of laughter. He can't help it, it sets him off every time!

There is one main similarity between the both of you, and that is your bubbly sides. Lots of your friends and even both your families just make major comparisons this way, which you never seem to hear the end of. Tristan however just loves when you can seem so happy, kind and full of life.

The one strengthening factor behind your relationship, is that you two have known each other for as long you can remember since childhood and even into your teenage years. Tristan knows every little detail; what you like, what you dislike, what you hate and your favorite memories. He can't really help but be in-love with every single aspect of you.

Tristan does worry quite a lot when you are out on missions, but he does often get reminded about how resilient you can be - especially with the amount of comments you make in combat. The nephilim is still left with worry though even when you do come back; did you get injured, burned, or imprisoned? the amount of things run ample through his mind enough.

He is a very avid and proud lover, just like his father. Though he is less perverted, as he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable. Tristan always likes to be very open about his love toward you, even if he does find himself with a blushing expression.

with all lovers, there is a connection that trescends the apparent obvious understanding. The way you know Tristan like the back of your hand when he is happy, or worried. The way he knows you when you are bashful or even sad.

He is unusually reminded and wonders if you have a lack of moral guidance when you are quite sassy, not even barring to hold back the blunt words that spill from your lips towards enemies and knights of chaos. Tristan wonders just what had happened to you when he had not been around in each other's earlier years.

Even if there are things about yourself that your insecure, Tristan is that kind of boy that will love all your insecurities for you. He has enough love going around, so he will love those as well. The prince will not take your self-deprecation if he doesn't at least refute it every time with a compliment, he hates when you see yourself that way.

In the privacy of his room, he certainly sees a side to you that no one else would be able to. You're far more soft and albeit grumpier when sleepy, but lots and lots of cuddles ensue, though somewhat whine and complain that he can be a bit cold.

If you end up sick, he just ruffles and pats your hair when you complain about it with snarky and sassy comments. But he won't just stop there, Tristan will help you work through it. Soup, warm cloth and even drawing you a bath.

Sometimes in tense moments, just to stay grounded, you two mouth to one another: 'I love you'. It generally helps, quite a lot. As he does find emotions difficult to deal with often, but just saying that alone helps him stay tethered to the earth.

This nephilim loves, loves, loves to give you gifts. In about anything, he finds that reminds him of you is something he will give to you as a gift. Tristan does hope that you don't find this annoying though, he just cares about you very much.

He knows you can defend yourself when being insulted, so when you fire one right back -- he just smiles. Tristan can't help but be proud, he doesn't know why but he just is. He loves when you don't just take it, and defend yourself (if verbally, or even physically).

Tristan loves holding hands with you if possibly, only particularly at appropriate times. The prince is very huge on PDA, and loves being affectionate with you. Though he often hears a lot of jesting from you whilst you hold hands with him, Tristan knows, and just grins.

You most likely lead half the conversations, seemingly always able to find something to say. He doesn't mind, and occasionally gives input when he feels he needs too. He isn't an avid talker most of the time, and tends to be quite formal anyway, so he just opts for listening to you. There are always jokes in each and every one of your conversations, your the one making them.

In the more quiet moments, Tristan and you will dance together. Maybe even bumble over each other's footsteps and laugh about it, and touching each other's foreheads and talking about things that bother you or things that brightened your day.

However, it doesn't mean your the only talker. Tristan may be quiet when you talk, but he can have a lot of things to say as well. Though he always just wants you to know he's actually listening to the things your saying.

Tristan isn't much of a nickname giver, but he does have many affectionate nicknames he reserves just for you alone; angel, darling, my love, and my light.

However the nicknames he has for you when you are being completely sassy are different; grizzly, my little philosopher, biscuit, and sunshine. However he always means them with love, he swears! Tristan generally just calls you these nicknames, and you just get even sassier. He loves it.

The two of you play into each other's playful sides, which can be a bit worse for wear, but it always ends up with memories you can look back on with fondness.

You two can quite literally be the perfect match for eachother, considering how laid-back and playful he can be at times, so the both of you are always met with back and forth comments from one another. Sometimes, there is a point to where the others are still surprised that you both have the energy to behave toward each other in such a way.

Lancelot does admire your more bubbly aspects however, and somewhat envies you for it. He wishes he can still have that energy, back to his earlier years of childhood with you. Lancelot can't match it as easily anymore, but he is reminded very fondly every time that side of you comes out. His gaze always lingers on you, not daring to stray for as long as possible, he always wants to burn those expressions into memory.

Beyond the relationship, even before knowing you, he feels a deep sense of despair as if something will happen. Something beyond his control, he feels that with each and every person he comes to hold dear of course. But with you, it delves even deeper, even more worse than before. Lancelot feels at a loss when this feeling surfaces, reminding him of previous failures (lance, please be kind to yourself). He is unsure when this sentiment truly comes to pass. Sometimes even with your sunshine, he still is reminded.

Whenever and however, if Lancelot ends up being the victim of your sassy comments, he just shrugs it off and continues the conversation. It just often shocks others as he usually is quick to bite back, but it didn't happen this time around, not with you.

It helps wholly, that he had known you for as long as he could remember. So even before being official, Lancelot can remember even the most seemingly insignificant details about you. Anything that he remembers, is something he considers of large importance after all. So maybe one day your met with a gift, something you mention offhandedly you liked, just one time. He looks away and says it was just something he saw on the way back, Lancelot will not admit he actually remembered that.

He isn't necessarily a touchy person compared to his father, but Lancelot will hold your hand if you wanted to, with very grumpy comments. You just tease him when he does accept it, to which he just lazily refutes.

Lancelot will defend you if you happen to be insulted, but if you do end up defending yourself, he happily accepts that with a proud-ass smile. He knows you can defend yourself verbally, but the comments you fire right back inspire him. New material for insults.

Often, he ends up cooking for you. You will not find him actually willingly doing that for anyone else, but you alone. Lancelot remembers few of your favorite recipes off the top of his head, so he cooks the appropriate meal concurrent with the time of the day. He definitely had inherited his ability to cook so well from his father, but had made it even better the more he had cooked.

On missions, he tends to worry about you. Out of habit, as he doesn't want anyone he cares about to get hurt, will shadow you the best he can. If he is able to of course, other times he will simply have to trust that you can take care of yourself and come back okay.

Lancelot is a quiet and subtle lover, but you can very much tell easily how much he loves you through acts of service (I will continuously iterate that he is an acts of service lover, sue me). He often will do chores on your behalf, or even patrol with you as often as he can, he can't really find himself doing anything else otherwise lest he actually has something he needs to prioritize.

Sometimes he actually hates that you can understand him, like 'how or why do you know this about me so easily?' You should be far away from his heart. Yet, you wormed so far in and deeply into his heart that he cares for you in a way he would no one else. Lancelot in turn does understand you as well as you do him, so he can catch even the smallest things. Example for telling, that subtle shift in your demeanor.

Such subtle things aren't left unnoticed by either you or Lancelot. maybe his jaw is clenched for some reason, you lightly tell him to unclench. He does. What if your hand was tightened and formed into a fist? Lancelot gently taps the knuckle of your hand with the back of his finger, curled in a way of subtle worry.

It's as if a complete shift in your demeanor when you are insecure (be it very few, or plenty), he will softly tell you something completely positive as an opposite. Lancelot finds it reassuring he was born with the ability to read hearts, i.e the mind in extension. Your thoughts are something that are much easier to read when you have bouts of these moments, and it is much easier for him to help you through it. He understands in a way, but hopes that you can overcome such insecurities one day.

[sweetbillwriting]

In The Dead of Night

ELEVEN

Characters: AU Eric played by Bill Skarsgård from The Crow (2024)

Setting: This story is set in A WHOLE OTHER WORLD than the movie. Shelley isn't a part of this story. Eric will be different from the movie.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.

×

“He was in a coma six months ago? For how long?” I asked in shock, but Robin didn't react to it.

“A month, I think? I learned about it after a couple of weeks. His friends didn't know if they should call me and... Heroin. I thought he had stopped with that shit, but one of his weird friends told me he had overdosed on purpose because of depression.”

I looked down at the ground, thinking back on my dreams. Could it be that Eric was in a coma? Believing he was dead? I dragged my hands over my face and shook my head in disbelief. I had started to believe the dreams were just dreams, but now I thought back on it again. The Spotify playlist, the name of his biological mom, the places and drawings he had shown me... Could he in some way visit my dreams while he was in a coma?

“Are you listening?” Asked Robin a little irritated, and I nodded.

“Yeah, yeah. It's just so much… He hasn't told me this.”

“He's probably embarrassed. He has overdosed twice and lived while other people who do something with their lives die of diseases. He gets saved.”

I sat with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands, trying to digest everything. I started to get a headache from it all and dragged my hands through my hair, but still I had questions.

“Do you see him as your brother? You cried when you found out he was in a coma, but you talk about him like an invader in your family.”

Robin bent down in a similar way as I and looked down at Odin laying on the ground.

“No. He's just Eric to me. He's my parents foster kid, but he's nothing to me. I get that sounds harsh, but I never understood who he was as a kid, and then in my teens he moved in with us permanently and made everything difficult. But… They also favored him so hard. Dad cut down work hours to be home with him; mom was with him all the time, and they gave him expensive gifts, and we traveled more.”

I looked at Robin’s sad face and how he dragged his feet through the wet leaves on the ground. Maybe it was actually true? Maybe they actually gave Eric all that. I could imagine they wanted to give him all the things he had never gotten to lay a bandage over the abuse and trauma his mom caused him, but it was too much to not get Robin's attention. On top of that, Eric had magical powers? I wanted to laugh at my own thoughts but couldn't do that when Robin sat next to me, but it really seemed like Eric was something more. He talked with animals, was kind to everyone, liked by everyone, and could escape death and visit my dreams. He sounded like a Disney princess.

Robin was quiet just like me for a while, but he wasn't thinking about Snow White; he prepared a confession.

“I never told mom and dad I was gay... It would have given them one more reason to love him more than me. Instead, I was the weird one, never meeting a girl. Did you know he slept with my best friend? And later, two other friends. He was clearly straight and on top of that an asshole. Now he has slept with a fourth friend of mine…”

I looked at Robin up and down uncomfortably. I didn't want to believe Eric had slept with his friends, but I could also see how that could have happened. Eric had been tall, hot, and sexy since his late teens, and on top of that, he had taken drugs then already. I swallowed hard when I thought about how many he probably had slept with.

“I'm sorry, Robin... I don't even know what to say, but… He didn't know we were friends. I've lied to him too…”

Robin shook his head to himself and looked down at his hands playing with Odin's leash, then he sighed.

“I guess I can't decide who you date… But can you promise me you will never force me to like him? And that you're careful? He is an addict, whatever you say.”

I smiled with relief, happy to have his blessing, but it fell when I thought about Eric. He would never forgive me.

“I don't think we need to talk about that even… He will never forgive me…” I took a deep breath to calm myself down because I could feel the tears pushing behind my eyes.

“Ehm, before I talk about him, can we go home? I don't want to sit here and ugly cry in front of everyone.”

Robin nodded quickly and fixed Odin's leash around his hand.

“Of course, of course.”

We went to my home, and with a big cup of tea each, I told him about my love for Eric. How he had pulled me in at once and how I couldn't stop myself from loving him from the first time we met.

“I had these dreams about him when I thought he was dead and… He really was everything I ever wanted from a guy. Nothing like Dante, then I met him, and he was the same, and… He really sees me. He really cares for me, and even if you can't see it, he makes me feel safe.”

I cried so hard, I didn't know if Robin could hear me, but it seemed like it. He looked uncomfortable, even upset, but nodded slowly.

“I… Well, okay, I guess. If you feel like that, I will not say that it isn't true; it's just that I can't see anything else than how manipulative and selfish he is. That's my picture of him, but… Clearly, you see other sides in him…”

I nodded and dried my wet cheeks, but new tears came.

“But it's too late now…”

Robin shook his head.

“In rehab, they talk quite a lot about how to ask for forgiveness and to forgive others. If he learned anything there, he would listen. It's worth a try. You should call him.”

I looked at Robin, who met my eyes. It was big of him saying these things even if he didn't like Eric. Once again, I dried my tears, and then I gave him a hug. At least he was a true friend to me.

I waited until Robin had left to call Eric, and then a bit longer after that. I didn't dare at first. Maybe he was really angry and would curse at me. I wouldn't be able to handle that. I thought about leaving it be, so I could imagine him not being angry and grieve what was of our relationship. However, in the long run it wouldn't give me anything, so I collected myself and called him with shaking hands. I heard signal after signal, and the fourth I thought about hanging up, but just when the fifth started, he answered.

“Hey,” he said shortly.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Hey… Ehm… I don't know what to say, Eric, more than I'm so, so sorry for… everything,” I said with a dry throat and was forced to even cough after I had spoke.

“Yeah…” he said with his thinking voice. I knew he was in deep thought just in the way he answered.

“I love you. I love you, so so much,” I said desperately. Eric was quiet, so I continued to talk.

“I just wanted to be with you. From the first time I saw your photo, I was—”

Eric cleared his voice awkwardly. It was probably a bit much hearing me explain my love for his photo.

“Maybe, maybe we can talk for real?” He said it in a dreamlike tone, and for a second I would have believed he had smoked marijuana recently, but I knew he often sounded like that when he tried to master his big feelings and sensitive heart. “I can come to you tomorrow?”

My own heart beated hard. I didn't want anything more than that.

“Of course, of course!” I said excitedly, I couldn't contain my happiness.

“Good… I'm sorry, by the way?”

“What? For What?” I answered with a giggle, like he was joking. I couldn't control the euphoria I felt of just knowing I would be close to him soon.

“For what happened with Nick and all that… I guess drugs are the thing I think about when life sucks. Like when you had those extreme menstrual cramps and you asked for—”

“Stop!” I said with a loud laugh, and Eric laughed too. It was a joke, a joke about that time I had such horrible period cramps that my ass cramped so I had begged him for anal sex like it was the only thing that could save my life.

Fortunately, it subsided by itself before we had time to do it, and then it felt awfully scary.

I could hear Eric's sweet little giggle in my ear, and I sighed with love.

“I really love you the most in the entire world, you know.”

“I love you most in the entire world, too, babe,” he said warmly before we hung up.

×××

“I'm sorry, but it sounds super weird you dreamed about me,” he said after thinking about what I had said for a while. I had told him I dreamed about him, but I didn't dare say I believed it was actually him visiting my dreams. It would be too much and sound a bit like an excuse from a stalker.

“It was! After the first time seeing your photo, I started to dream about you, and you were amazing in the dream, just as amazing as you are now, and yeah, I just wanted to meet you for real. And you were so different from Dante. Even the person you were in my dream was everything I wanted.”

Eric looked at me with big eyes and nodded. He put down his cup on the coffee table, then he moved closer to me smoothly.

“You have said many times that Dante was a really bad guy… What does that mean?” He searched my eyes, but I just looked away. I didn't want to talk about Dante like that.

“You can talk to me… I hope you know that.”

I moved closer to Eric and looked into his kind eyes. I was safe with him.

“He hit me a couple of times.”

I looked at Eric's Adam’s apple bob in his throat.

“He hit you?”

“It was just a few times, but I provoked him, so it's just embarrassing to talk about. I don't want people to know how annoying I-”

“Hey!” Said Eric, upset, and it made me jump. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he said softly when he realized he had scared me. “No guy has any right to hit you, even if you're annoying as hell. I don't care what you say about yourself, he is the one in the wrong.” He looked at me seriously but suddenly looked scared. “You know I would never do that, right? I know people say it's a bigger risk for abused kids to become abusive adults, but I would never ever in my life do that. I would kill myself if I ever did that.”

His words were sincere and worried, and his face, cute. I kissed his full lips and dragged my hand over his smooth cheek.

“I know that, Eric. That's why I love you so much. I would never doubt your kindness.” I kissed him again, and it led to us making out a bit. I crawled up in his lap, and he took his chance to pull down my tank top straps so he could play with my chest with his big hands. His lips found a nipple, and once again he sucked so hard it felt like he thought his next dinner was there. I dragged my hands over his head and cradled him against my chest while he found comfort against me.

“My boy… I'm sorry for everything that has happened to you in life…” I whispered and made him look at me, still with my nipple between his lips.

“I'm sorry that your biological mom didn't treat you well and that you met so many others that have hurt you…”

Eric released my nipple and looked away but still lay against my chest.

“I know it's her fault I am the way I am. That I crave... That I need drugs to calm my loud thoughts down, but I'm not mad anymore. She was disturbed. She was sick. The men… They're just faceless idiots to me, so there is no one to be angry with.”

He sounded so mature and calm, and I felt proud and smiled at him a little. It would be a good person like Eric who could see life from that angle.

“But when you are depressed, what is that about?”

He shrugged his shoulders and sat up.

“Depression doesn't always have an explanation. It's just like everything drops for me. Like nothing is important. It just falls to the ground, and I can't see an end. Of course I can have nightmares about the men who kicked me around or the times Linda tied me to the radiator for a day or two.” I gave him an upset look, but he didn't seem to notice. “But it's not those memories that make me depressed. That's just my brain shutting off.”

Eric looked at me and then smiled a little.

“You don't need to look so worried; it was fifteen years ago. And Linda is dead. She died of a failing liver when I was eighteen or something.”

I nodded a little and patted his cheeks. It was hard thinking that a kind soul as Eric had gotten treated like that, and it made both my chest and stomach hurt. I kissed his lips softly a few times, but I noticed quickly that Eric wanted more than that. I giggled when he pulled down my tank top again to touch my chest and when he licked my lips to be able to get permission to dance with my tongue.

Deep tongue kisses made Eric pleasurably groan, and when I moved in his lap, I could clearly feel he was hard. I dragged myself over his sex and could feel his cock grow to its full size in the loose-fit track pants. Eric knew what he wanted but also what I wanted, so he stood up and let me hang around him like a koala bear.

“Am I not heavy?” I said with a giggle. I knew I wasn't for him, but I wanted to hear it.

“Fuck no, you don't weigh a thing.” He said, shaking his head. He probably knew I just wanted to hear that but answered seriously so it would feel even more real for me. I giggled and leaned back while being in his safe arms. I could lean back a long way, and Eric let out a sound of admiration.

“Fuck you're sexy,” he said, and then put me down in bed. His words made me feel my self esteem grow, and I smirked while taking off my clothes while lying in bed. I moved sensually, letting him be my small little audience while I started my masturbation show for him. Eric stood and looked at me with an open mouth and pulled off his big gray t-shirt. I looked at his muscles shamelessly, and even if he was so close, I fantasized about having him even closer. I sat up, drunk of hornyness, and pulled him closer to me with a grip of the elastic to his dark blue pants.

From his navel down to the hem of his pants, I made a small trail of kisses. I licked the lines going down to his groin while teasingly pushing down his pants with his boxers. Eric chuckled a little when I licked closer and closer to his loins and helped me take the last of his clothes when my lips moved closer and closer to the root of his cock. He kicked the pants and boxers away with his socks and then turned around. His idea was to just attack my lips with his, but I stopped him because I wanted to look at him. Eric scratched his ear while I looked at his body up and down.

“Damn boy,” I teased and bit my lip. Eric chuckled, embarrassed but also proudly. He had a hobby you could see clearly how much he worked on, but also, he won a lottery in anatomy.

“Can I fuck you now?” He said and moved closer to me, and I nodded with a giggle. With a smile, he kissed me and moved over me, his body so broad it felt like it swallowed me up. He smelled like one of his expensive perfumes, mixed with herbal tea, and even that smell was intoxicating. With a swift motion, he had pushed me down on my stomach in bed so he could enter me from behind while he held me close to his body. I wonder if I could ever get used to his size or strength. I hoped not because every time he was close, I felt so blessed and protected, and I hoped I would never take that feeling for granted.

×××

Eric fell asleep after our lovemaking; most of the time he had held me up against the wall, and I could see that would even be much for him, but I couldn't deny what a feeling it was to be held like that. I felt small and vulnerable in his arms, full, overwhelmed, and light as air. He had instead held me up by the thighs while also moving in and out of me with fast, hard strokes. No wonder he was tired.

I swept my finger over his nose, following the straight nose bridge out to the upturned tip. He wasn't bothered by it; he just continued to sleep. Warmth rose in my chest while I looked at him, but another feeling started to take over. Hadn't it been very easy for me to be forgiven by him? I had lied and gone behind his back, but he forgave me after just a few minutes, then slept with me in the best way. The last time I saw him, he had also laid in a bed but had asked for drugs. Did that craving just disappear? I thought back to the moment in his bed and what he had said. He had wanted the morphine pills he had seen in the bathroom. Pills I hadn't hidden away before his visit. I stood up from bed and pulled on a floral kimono as I walked to the bathroom on light feet. I know you can guess what I found—nothing. The pills weren't anywhere to be found. I searched over and over in the bathroom, but there weren't any pills. I could feel the panic grow because I didn't want to believe it, but still it was there; Eric had just forgiven me and slept with me to steal my morphine pills.

I stood and looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, more or less waiting for the inevitable breakdown. I loved him so much, but he clearly loved other things more than me, even if he had said he loved me most in the entire world. I waited for the breakdown, but it never came; maybe it had just been too much the last few days and there were no tears left.

I walked back to the bedroom, where he still slept with just the cover on his hips. I looked at all the badly made tattoos, the clues to what life he had lived and probably would soon live again. I wondered if he was high on something while we slept together. Maybe it was amphetamine that gave him his stamina. I kicked his shin with my foot over and over. That was the only way I wanted to touch him; otherwise, I wouldn't be able to keep my cool. I kicked quite hard after a while to make him wake up, and after three hard kicks, he looked up at me confused.

“I'm sorry, have I slept a long time?” He said with a raspy voice and rubbed his eyes.

“Did you just sleep with me to be able to take my pills?” I said crass with furrowed brows. He sat up and scratched his chest. He looked adorable with his big eyes shifting, but for me, that was just proof he had taken them; he couldn't even look at me.

“What?”

“My morphine pills; you have taken them!”

“What? No?”

“God, I never thought this about you, Eric!”

“But I haven't-”

“Don't lie to me!”

“But I-”

“Maybe you are just the fucking junkie everyone says you are!”

Even if he was the one in the wrong, I swallowed hard when he looked at me hurt.

Without a word, he stood up and started to dress. My instinct was to say I was sorry and beg him to stay, but he had used me for drugs, so there was no hope for us.

I stood with crossed arms and shiny eyes while his naked body disappeared into soft fabrics. He walked by me without a look, out to the hallway.

“Can I have the pills?” I tried to sound cold but didn't know if I succeeded very well. The question made him finally look up at me with sad eyes.

“I don't have them.”

I sighed and looked down at the ground disappointedly. It wasn't like him to lie to me right in the face, but I guessed drugs made him into someone else. I looked at him while he pulled on his bomber jacket and turned on his heel to the door. The jackets were the only place he could have them, and for a few seconds I regretted not looking in his pockets but brushed that away; it didn't make any difference. Eric closed the door silently behind him; he would probably never be the kind to be violent in front of a woman. I stared at the door for a long time after he had left with tears in my eyes. I couldn't say why, but it felt like something didn't add up, but I tried to say to myself that it was just me who wanted it to be that way.

I sat down on the couch where our teacups still stood on the coffee table. I breathed heavily, trying to find acceptance, but it seemed like other thoughts knocked on the door and wanted in.

He hadn't even been in the bathroom. He had been by my side all the time.

I thought back to his visit, trying in every way to find a time he could have taken the pills, but there wasn't a time. In panic, I ran to the bathroom, looking again through every cabinet and box after the pills. I threw things out on the floor to see everything better, but they were nowhere to be found. I cried hysterically because I couldn't find an explanation.

“Maybe you are just the fucking junkie everyone says you are!”

Even if he was the one in the wrong, I swallowed hard when he looked at me hurt.

Without a word, he stood up and started to dress. My instinct was to say I was sorry and beg him to stay, but he had used me for drugs, so there was no hope for us.

I stood with crossed arms and shiny eyes while his naked body disappeared into soft fabrics. He walked by me without a look, out to the hallway.

“Can I have the pills?” I tried to sound cold but didn't know if I succeeded very well. The question made him finally look up at me with sad eyes.

“I don't have them.”

I sighed and looked down at the ground disappointedly. It wasn't like him to lie to me right in the face, but I guessed drugs made him into someone else. I looked at him while he pulled on his bomber jacket and turned on his heel to the door. The jackets were the only place he could have them, and for a few seconds I regretted not looking in his pockets but brushed that away; it didn't make any difference. Eric closed the door silently behind him; he would probably never be the kind to be violent in front of a woman. I stared at the door for a long time after he had left with tears in my eyes. I couldn't say why, but it felt like something didn't add up, but I tried to say to myself that it was just me who wanted it to be that way.

I sat down on the couch where our teacups still stood on the coffee table. I breathed heavily, trying to find acceptance, but it seemed like other thoughts knocked on the door and wanted in.

He hadn't even been in the bathroom. He had been by my side all the time.

I thought back to his visit, trying in every way to find a time he could have taken the pills, but there wasn't a time. In panic, I ran to the bathroom, looking again through every cabinet and box after the pills. I threw things out on the floor to see everything better, but they were nowhere to be found. I cried hysterically because I couldn't find an explanation.

“Maybe you are just the fucking junkie everyone says you are!”

I heard my own words in my head. Had I thrown that in his face, and he hadn't even taken the pills? He must have taken them. Where else were they? I needed to talk to someone, someone that could tell me I had done the right thing. I called Robin with shaking hands, sitting on the toilet lid with legs bobbing up and down in panic.

“My morphine pills were gone, so he must have taken them, but I don't know when he could have done it, but he must have, right? Right? I mean, where are they otherwise? He came here and pretended to be the perfect boyfriend again just to take them!” I rambled with a runny nose.

Robin was quiet on the line. I wasn't prepared for that; I thought he would just say I had done the right thing.

“I have them.”

I didn't understand what he was saying and furrowed my brows in confusion.

“What?”

Robin sighed deeply.

“I'm sorry, I thought I did both of you a favor by taking them away. So he wouldn't be tempted.”

“Huh?” My heart beated hard against my chest.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I had accused Eric of stealing my pills without any proof, and here I now sat with the truth. Eric was really the perfect boyfriend, but I had called him a junkie.

“I didn't want to do a thing out of it because I was afraid you would be angry if I said anything that could be critical to your relationship.”

Robin sounded sincere, but right at that moment I didn't care. I had called Eric a fucking junkie. I thought about his hurt expression but how calm he still continued to be. Always so respectful and sweet, even when hearing such things.

“Oh my god... Oh my god…” I said with a shaking voice and laid a hand over my mouth to cover my sobs.

“I'm really sorry, Della; this wasn't my plan at all!” Said Robin with guilt and stress in his voice. I didn't say anything because I was busy trying to control my tears.

“I would never do such a thing to you. Him, yes, but not you. I can punish him with mom and all that, but I wouldn't-” he interrupted himself, and I could almost hear his panic.

“...how do you punish Eric? What? How do you punish Eric??” I said, upset, and raised my voice. I had a bad feeling—a really bad feeling and ideas about what he had done to Eric spun around in my head.

“Nothing!” Robin sounded mad, but I was quite sure it was a way to mask that he had said way too much.

“Tell me now!”

Robin was quiet on the line. “Is it something about him not seeing Lotti? Huh? Have you kept them from each other?”

Robin sighed like he was irritated, but instead of saying anything, he hung up in my ear.

×

[namidew]

Updated Apollo and Artemis designs !! (Still subject to change and clothing changes)

Details below for design concept ramblings (not including a few details explained in prior posts) !!

Complementary Details - Apollo and Artemis are very similar in physical appearance, which is to show that they are close to each other. Not just as a design choice by me, but within the story they choose to look similar, as the gods can change their appearances. Apollo has gold (jewelry, eyes, and hair strands) and the sun halo for the domain of the sun, and Artemis has the silver (jewelry and eyes) and the moon halo(?) for the domain of the moon. They have a light-and-dark outfit contrast to highlight their different domains, such as Apollo’s domains of the sun and light, and Artemis’s domains of the moon and the wilderness. They both have green himations, with Artemis’s being “warmer” in tone and more earthy, while Apollo’s being “colder” and more “refined(?)” in a way while the two still match.

Apollo - Individually, his chiton now has faint yellow stripes shooting from the gold jewelry, in resemblance of the sun and its rays. His himation has lighter green lines, resembling a blank music score, to represent his domain of music. If drawn for a comic or an illustration, I like to imagine he’d have the melody of a related song on it.

Artemis - Her chiton is now a dark brown rather than the previous white, allowing her to blend in more within the woods at night. She has a deer pelt over her shoulders due to her domain of the hunt and her association with deer, as well as a more “woodsy” look. Her himation now has darker green details of leaves, also adding to her wilderness and nature theme.

Story Dynamic - They’re rather close siblings, always looking out for each other. I’d imagine they talk frequently but have the sort of relationship in which they can go a long time without talking and return to normal even after. I’d imagine Apollo to be pretty conflict avoidant and of the tendency to try to keep the peace, while Artemis may be more impulsive depending on the circumstance, as based on their domains. Not entirely sure about the next concept, but it would be interesting if Apollo, while rather amiable and within good graces with many, actually tells little about his personal details (as in the type of person who you think you know well until you try to recall anything about them personally) while Artemis is the opposite where she’s more of an open book so long as you start a good conversation, but it’s not a concrete idea. It would be an interesting concept though, given how the moon is physically closer to the earth than the sun.

Unrelated and Miscellaneous - First, I’m considering toning down the vibrancy of Aphrodite’s chiton and possibly Dionysus’s purple (grapes, eyes, himation) for the sake of more cohesive of a color palette (warm and earthy), but I plan on waiting until finishing all the Olympian designs to finalize that, given there’s a few others I plan on giving a more cool-toned color palette. Second, the next few Olympians are going to be a bit more difficult to design, for me it seems, so ideas are greatly appreciated ! Third and lastly, if I were to make this story more than an idea, it would likely be a non-linear slice of life “comic” series in which random drawings or scenes are posted in no real order. I’m not good at writing stories anyhow, and while a written story, actual comics, or animatics/animations would be very cool, I haven’t the skill for any of those.

Anyway, thank you very much if you read all these ramblings, and if you have any suggestions or ideas, I’d be happy to hear them !!

[callme-holly]

I was wondering if you could please write a Steve Randle x sister reader where maybe she is walking to the DX from school and gets jumped (similar to the Winston sibling one) but she gets away. So once she gets to the DX soda is the first to see her so he calls Steve over and he just goes full big brother comforter and protective mode. 😂 sorry if none of this makes sense

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐱 𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 '𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 '

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - omg I finally got this done! I might edit it a little tomorrow and I need to find a pic to go along with it but I just wanted to get it out today. Hope ya'll enjoy and as always my asks are still open for requests!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 1.2k words

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - talk of getting jumped, slight injury detail (not graphic), mild swearing

Your hands shake and your lungs burn as you try desperately to catch your breath, your whole body burning with exertion. The sun feels unbearably hot on your skin, sweat runs down the back of your neck, and you stick your shirt uncomfortably to your body as you force yourself to keep moving, trying to put some distance between you and that goddamn blue mustang. 

You’re panting hard, every muscle aching, and your chest burning with the effort it takes to draw air into your body and then let it out again. Blood trickles down the side of your face, hot and sticky against your skin, while the gash above your eye stings with pain.

You must look quite the sight: bruises blossoming on one side of your face, blood drying beneath your nose and lips, dirt matting into your tangled hair. Your knees are scraped raw through your tattered jeans and bleeding sluggishly in places, but you refuse to stop until the DX is in view, letting out one finally ragged breath before collapsing back against the side of the building. 

You lean there for a second, your head swimming and your vision blurry, your breathing coming in shallow pants. The world is suddenly spinning a little too fast, and your stomach lurches unpleasantly, forcing you to take another deep, shuddering breath. You feel sick, nauseous even, and everything hurts like hell, which is probably just as well considering how much energy was spent running from that damn car. You rub a hand down your face, grimacing when it comes away red and wet with blood and sweat.  

“Great..” You mumble, wiping at your split lip with the sleeve of your jacket, before pushing yourself shakily to your feet. “Fucking great…” 

You stumble forward, taking care not to trip over your own feet, as you shove open the door to the little store, the bell jangling obnoxiously above you.  

Inside, the air is cool, the air conditioning is whirring noisily overhead, and you close your eyes and breathe deeply. It helps somewhat, your head clearing a little as you head for the counter where Sodapop is pouring over a magazine. He looks up briefly as you shuffle towards him, his eyes widening in recognition.

“Holy shit–” he discards the magazine in a sudden rush, jumping over the counter and grabbing hold of your arms gently. “What the hell happened?” 

You wince, pressing your forehead against his shoulder to avoid looking directly at him. His touch is steady and grounding, but you still flinch as he tilts your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze. 

“I got jumped.” You grumble, trying to shrug off his concern, but it proves a little more difficult than anticipated. 

Soda makes a concerned sound in the back of his throat, guiding you to sit in the chair he’d previously been in. “By who?”

“Those damn socs,” you grit your teeth together. “The same ones who got Johnny.” You pause. “And Pony.” 

His expression shifts immediately and he releases your shoulders, turning to head for the back. “I'll get Steve.” 

You nod absently, looking down at your jeans, picking at the loose threads in the knees, and rubbing at one of the bloodstains. You wipe your palm across it roughly and grimace, knowing that it'll be a pain in the ass to wash out later on. 

It’s not long before you hear the backdoor bang open and footsteps hurry inside, the telltale sound of Steve’s voice booming throughout the room. 

“I thought I told you to go straight home from school. The hell are you doin’ here?” His tone is sharp and impatient, but there’s no real bite to it, and you can see the concern in his eyes as he stops in front of you. He grabs a hold of your chin, his touch a little rougher than Soda’s had been, his eyes scanning over your face as he inspects your injuries.  “Who did this?” 

“No one,” you say quickly, pulling away from his grip. “Just some stupid ass kids at school–” You falter, watching as your brother narrows his eyes at you, suspicion and frustration warring on his face.

“Bullshit.” He scoffs, heading around the counter to grab the first aid kit tucked away under the register.  “Don’t even try to lie to me. Who was is?” His hands move deftly as he opens the kit, digging through the box and pulling out a few supplies: a bottle of rubbing alcohol, gauze, and bandages. 

“Why were they messing with ya? What did they want, kid?”

You frown, feeling the cut on your temple flare as your brow furrows. “I don't know what they wanted,” you spit out, glaring at him as he begins to wipe at the dried blood on your cheek. “They just started yelling at me until I yelled back, and then they came at me.” 

““You yelled back?!” He barks incredulously, pausing momentarily to shoot a glare your way. “Jesus Christ, kid, have I taught you nothing?” 

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “Like you're any better.”

There's a long pause as the two of you glare at each other before Steve sighs, shaking his head and beginning to wipe at the cut on your brow, ignoring your protests as he does so. 

“Whatever,” he grumbles out. “But you’re the one explaining this to dad if he asks.” 

If… You think bitterly. You doubt your father will even notice; he doesn’t usually. 

Steve pulls back after a moment or two, examining his work with narrowed eyes. Then, seemingly satisfied with what he sees, he closes the first aid box and tucks it back beneath the counter. He turns around and fixes you with a stern look, arms folded across his chest.

“You didn’t hit your head too badly, right? I don't want you gettin' a concussion or nothin.” 

You snort derisively and shake your head. “Nah, nothing I can't take.” 

“Good,” He says curtly.  Then he glances behind him before leaning forward, his eyebrows pinching together. “Now, tell me who did this. And I want the truth.” 

You hesitate. The last thing you want is for him to go out and start something to get himself into trouble. But it won't help to lie now, not when Soda already knows and will no doubt let it slip sooner or later. 

So, reluctantly, you tell him everything, and by the end of it, his eyes are wide with shock, his hands clenched into fists, and he's muttering profanities under his breath.

“Are you fucking serious?” he snarls. “How could you let them beat the fuck outta you like that? Why didn't you run?”

You blink and stare at him in confusion for a minute, confused as to why he was so upset, until realisation dawns in your eyes.

He's scared… Scared of losing you. 

You give him a crooked smile. “‘Cause you would’ve done the same thing. You would’ve fought back, the same as I did.” 

He glares at you fiercely, his mouth opening as though to reply but no words seem to come out. “You’re an idiot.” He snaps after a while, and you grin.

“Takes one to know one.” 

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬!!

[drinkpisser]

MY HESITANT ALIEN FIC, HOW IT CAME TO BE CHAPTER 1 IS FINALLY DONE!!

(I thinkk!)

thank you to anyone who has been waiting, I really hope you enjoy! :D 🫶 it's been great to make

PREVIOUS CHAPTER (the prologue) :

Like he had mentioned, it was the average summer night, albeit slightly chilly. Gerard had not long settled into the summer camp similar to the other teens who had wandered the woods all day. Even so, he found it difficult to relate to them. His dyed black hair was short and shiny from the humidity of the car ride there, though the streaks of red gleamed nicely in the sun- his eyes were sunken, glued to a drawing pad or species of insect that he would clutch into his hands and inspect, and he found it detrimental to attempt mingling beyond his limited social battery level. He simply wasn't ready to engage in interaction with an unfamiliar face, and I'd say that's pretty understandable. He found it reasonable to head to his dorm early, briefly skittering past the other kids and finding comfort within the spring mattress of the bunkbed.

----------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 1: ACCEPTANCE

With a sigh, he pulls out a rented comic book he had stashed beneath his pillow. A classic Batman issue, to be precise. As his eyes fluttered from one panel to the other, they grew heavier and heavier- eventually, he had wandered into the land of dreams (with a cameo of laser beams and men in spandex) shockingly early, substituting his stuffed animal at home for a comic book.

Not too long later, murmurs and tiptaps of tired campgoers slid past Gerard's unconscious mind, leaving him in little less of a deep sleep. Goddamnit, he just couldn't get back to it after that. Tossing and turning, time passed slowly. Toss. Nevermind, turn. Toss again. Turn.

What's the use, he thought, before laying still in defeat. Unfortunately, a short while passes by, and Gerard's eyes are still straining shut, unrelaxed.

All of a sudden, a warm, unwarranted apricity fell upon his face. His eyes blink awake in confusion, squinting at the brightness of the mystery orb in the sky. Everyone is asleep. He sits up, with slight haste and panic- how is nobody concerned about this?

A polite whisper of "What the fuck is this?" leaves Gerard's mouth, what a strange prank to pull if it is one, he thought. Of course, like any other naive teenager would, he swiftly leaves the dorms to check it out.

Outside, it's extremely windy; Gerard wished he had brought his blanket with him- rather instead he retrieved a long, wooden stick he found rested against the doorframe (for self defense) like it'll do much against a giant mothership. His messy hair is now messier, the small fringe he once had brushing rapidly left to right in the breeze. As he cautiously strolled past the shelter of safety, he took a deep and dry swallow to build up the already dissolved courage within him. If you asked him, he'd say isn't scared at all, he's had traumatic nightmares worse than this. In other words, he'd be lying through his teeth. It's the middle of the night in a forest, the most intimidating concept ever for a young and vulnerable person. Every step impersonates a cracking eggshell, every blink or twitch of a muscle echoes like a gunshot. Crows flock in an alarmed state, frogs and rats huddle together under drip-tip leaves. Foxes flee in unison with the hedgehogs they were chasing.

Why on earth did he think this was a logical idea? It's a catastrophic idea- which means he's still going to go through with it. Determined, even with shakily numb legs. Thankfully, by now, the occurrence that woke him up is in full view so he can save himself the trouble. He ends up resting against a wooden fence, pausing, gazing in awe at what was above him.

Graphic gleams illuminate the dull night in all colours beyond imagination, sourced from an outstanding construction of metal balanced in the night sky. Almost akin to if they invented a portable northern lights kit that can be used anywhere, it spun slowly, as though it was scanning the strange organism that was staring upon it. The lights from the sides of the cockpit shut off without warning. Sliding doors beneath the ship clang open, sending small sparks flying into the stars.

Red.

It's all red. A red light, aimed directly at Gerard's exposed forehead. It warped the grass to a strange brunette, the buildings to a maroon and the fence he was leaning on to a crimson. An ambiguous voice within that colour told Gerard all he needed to know- run. Get the fuck out of there! The last thing he needed on any historical record of his was "kidnapped by a strange vehicle", and it's sure to be impossible to explain to his parents or the police, so he'd best act quickly!

That he did. Running as quick as his body could take him, wary of hazardous rocks and tree stumps that could screw him over. As predicted, the machine begun chasing. It didn't appear to be hostile- shooting or sending out traps that could catch him, it just.. chased. Gerard looks back, pathetically lunging the wooden stick at the fortified metal. The machine looks behind itself in confusion and unphased, leaving Gerard puzzled. Did it even know what was going on? Was it just playing copycat to toy with him?

Nonetheless, he continues to sprint more than he ever had planned to at this stay. Absolutely terrifying.

SPLASH!!

Brilliant, just great! He's gone and fell in a swampy puddle, grazing his knees on sharp ground. His hands sting, but he endures, forcing himself to ignore the hisses of agony as he gets back up. Limping like a champion, he struggles his way into a nearby porta potty. Not the most hygienic or convenient but this is a pretty rational situation to be complaining.

Once he was inside, he realised there isn't much at all he can do to improve his pain. He grabs the half used, thin toilet paper and wraps it around his wounds, begging his senses to blind him from the putrid smell of the enclosure he's settling in. Petrified of leaving, he crafts a makeshift blanket out of his comfort hoodie, placing his pins and badges to the side. Because he is wearing shorts, he resorts to a foetal position to successfully contain the warmth of the hoodie blanket, also creating a third useful tool of a gas mask with the hood itself. He looks ridiculous. He surely feels it. Yet exhaustion had hit him like a pile of bricks; he soon falls back to his state of slumber in here. In a summer camp bathroom. Wrong. It's worse than that, a porta potty with barely any space.  The interview from the prologue was right- you really couldn't make this shit up.

The next morning flows by perfectly. Birds sing a harmony, everyone is well rested. The ideal summers day, unless you're the nerd snoozing away in the trashy, unused camp toilet. The door is about to be unlocked by a relatively unhappy janitor who is definitely not paid enough for this... Dare I say, shit?

The door cracks open with a thud, hitting a filthy Gerard on the side.

"Oh, what, the door's jammed again?" The janitor complains before seeing the adolescent. His wrinkly eyes tweak, and he holds back several cuss words in surprise.

"Get up. Come on," he snaps, dragging Gerard out by the arm. Groaning, he shoves the cleaner away and composes himself.

"Look, I can explain- I was being chased by some spaceship! It was seriously a fuckin' mess. I'm covered in cuts from it- see?!" Gerard then shows him his battle scars from that mighty fall he took.

"Yeah, well, alcohol isn't allowed here. Being chased by aliens isn't a solid alibi either. Trust me, I tried it," The janitor snarls nonchalantly, sighing, "just get back to campus and clean up."

He shuts the porta potty door. Damn, he must be responsible for that tragic leftover shit-stench.

Gerard frowns. This, he did not consider. Going back to everyone- the people he'd barely even brushed past, without introducing himself the way he wanted. Now they're all going to know him for sure. Probably call him stupid names, humiliate him and such.

However, if it wasn't for who emerged next, he could have cried a river.

A chirpy, curious voice.

"Dude, I don't mean to embarrass you but did you get lost in the sewers?" the voice chuckles.

Letting out a small shriek, Gerard turns around.

An approachable looking young man stood before him, shuffling his feet with a sense of innate awkwardness. The boy was surprisingly tall for his age, and had the most wonderful curly locks of hair Gerard had ever seen. Somehow he knew by the shirt he was wearing that they'd hit it off straight away. Any sense of shame Gerard had dissipated, as the subject of music is one he exceeds in. Maybe this was his perfect chance to finally befriend somebody here!

"Holy shit," Gerard smiles, "The Smashing Pumpkins? I love their music, man."

"Ah, so we aren't gonna adress my question? Alright! Yeah, I listen to them a lot. I know a few songs on guitar too." He replies, impressed.

"My name is Ray. Weird circumstance, but you're pretty neat and... certainly interesting! Wanna be friends?"

Bingo, that was easy. Gerard almost exploded in excitement that his band tactic worked, but he resorted to a chilled nod and kick of a pebble.

"Yeah, sounds cool. Name's Gerard...

Uh, I would explain why I'm covered in mud and probably shit too but I don't wanna be accused of drinking by somebody I barely know again..." he mumbles.

"It's fine- I know a way we can get to the showers without passing anybody. Then I'm so down to hear all about this!" Ray chuckles ecstatically  before wandering off.

"I suppose i have no choice but to follow, or else my ass'll get kicked by that janitor." Reluctantly, Gerard trails behind his new buddy, sneaking past anything that looked like a person or member of staff (not to say they arent people or anything, they're just a hindrance at this certain moment in time).

"At least I can get a laugh outta this in a few years," he monologues to himself whilst hiding behind a tree.

Ray slowly turns, confused both as to whether he was being spoken to or not and the fact this douche is pretending to be a tree.

"Yeah.." He smiles, unable to conceal a short burst of laughter.

They continue on their miniature voyage, finally making it to the shower room unscathed. The two wave a slightly uncomfortable goodbye, and Ray takes a seat outside, twiddling his thumbs.

A short while later, Gerard walks out, thankfully no longer covered in mud. He smiles, greeting Ray once again.

"Thanks for waiting," he says, holding his clean hand out for a handshake. Ray, with the reassurance that there is no more mud, shakes it.

"No problem, you wanna head to camp? I'm pretty sure it's lunchtime."

"Sounds like a plan." Gerard adjusts the geeky pins on his hoodie, making his way to the benches.

At the benches, there sits a group of four. Gerard avoids direct contact with their faces at first, in the dire case that he's only there for a small punchline. Ray introduces them all, but the names don't stick. Nerves have struck Gerard's mind like a vigorous thunder, preventing him from paying his most full attention. Nodding does the trick, so he just went along with it. After sitting and shuffling, attention once again falls to Gerard through a demanding whisper in the ear.

"What happened to you, then?" Ray enquires.

"No judgement, alright? I can barely get my own head around it," Gee releases an intense sigh. It seemed to go quiet, or was it just his imagination?

"I was chased by strange figures in a giant ship looking thing. It was beautiful at first until I thought I was going to die. It seemed to be after me specifically, and I almost fell right into it's trap whilst everybody else was fast asleep."

Ray's expression dropped like an astounded cat. Maybe Gerard had forgotten to use his indoor voice due to the exterior surroundings of the forest, but the whole table had suddenly earwigged. Silence had truly struck this time. A brief calm before the storm, so to speak.

Laughter invades the air like poison in an airvent. The barricades of comfort were banished and giggles screeched like nails on a chalkboard. Shame for ever saying a single word ever dawned on Gerard with a pile of regret.

"This dude's nuts!" a preppy girl whines.

"Whatever he's on, I want it.." a curtain-banged boy adds.

"Why'd you bring this freak here?" some jerkwad adds.

"Hey now, come on- he's just got here! If it wasn't aliens, it was surely something." Ray defends, but it's futile.

Its settled. He's done for. Gerard's done for. He knows full well, ducking down in silence. Just like he had worried, it isn't working. He's alone at this place, and not in the preferred introverted way he'd wished.

He could die here alone.

He could die alone point blank.

That being recognised, he grabs his satchel teary-eyed and rushes off. Being accused of lying when all you speak is truth crucially damages your self assurance, your fragile confidence, your efficacy as a living, breathing person. Usually it wouldn't phase Gerard at all, but salt had definitely been rubbed into those vunerable wounds. I mean, without a doubt it's a phenomenal story to tell to a stranger. Chased by aliens and all that junk. Yet what a laughing stock he'd become in his vacant mind, weeping his heart out behind the main office he fled and hid behind.

He wanted to go home, back to his younger brother and cluttered bedroom. Back to the dainty hallway filled with shelves of vintage dolls and trinkets. Back to his drawing desk and flickering lamp. Day one and he was already through with it all. He'd rather not get out at all than suffer another minute pretending he's enjoying himself in the cruel wilderness.

Without warning, the overwhelming stream of thoughts cut off with that same chirpy voice, however this time it approached gently.

"Thank god I found you, really. I didn't mean for all that to happen-" he's soon interrupted the blinded humiliation of Gerard's anger.

"Screw that! It was your plan all along to put me in the social shit. You just wanted me to look decent whilst you did it! They clearly ain't impressed by you on your own so the nearest idiot you found made the cut! I get it! Rub it in some more." He scrapes words through tears so warm that they're steaming, almost not completely aware of what he's spewing.

Ray's pleading face grows in distress; it's true that the people he'd lingered with weren't the most welcoming of friends. He'd just happened to have met them during a group activity and thought they we're right for him. He was never in their group, he was just with their group. In that moment, he was willing to sacrifice them all for someone he'd not long met after seeing an unusual spark in his eyes that they didn't posess.  Aware of the room that needed to be read, he sits a fair distance from Gerard, quiet.

A few minutes pass by consisting of Gee huddled up within himself and Ray staring with guilt.

Forcing out his voice once more, Ray apologises.

"I've needed that lecture for a while, really. They're full of shit. I honestly just wanted to help you out- I thought they'd find you cool just like I did, you like similar stuff to them-" Ray rambles and trips on his words, desperate for an understanding response.

Fortunately, Gerard had calmed enough to not verbally vomit every thought in his brain this time.

"... I know," he reassures, "I just didn't wanna mess this up, yknow. The reason why I was brought here by my parents was so I could experience more things and a big part of that was a need to be liked," loathing away at himself, Ray listens and "mhms" until he can barely restrain his words any longer...

"I believe you."

"What?" Gerard's head perks up in disbelief.

"We don't need them to either, if more than one person believes then it's credible. Something in space is out there and you we're lucky enough to discover it, Gerard!" Ray forms a contagious smile as he speaks, erupting excitement as he does.

"I suppose.." a glum smirk passes Gerard's face, quickly turning to a grin. "Alright."

The two stand together and hug it out, walking back from the secluded area at the same pace, yapping all the time away whilst skipping day classes.

The afternoon quickly fades to the evening, the sunset tainting the busy perimeter with a sense of euphoria. All throughout that time, Gerard couldn't help but participate in small ventures of the camp activites with slight eagerness, collecting logs and sticks for the bonfire at the highest speed he could maneuver. As the fire erupted, he watched the flames dance with fascination. Being a self proclaimed pyromaniac and all, it helped him relax.

Even with a time of turmoil ahead, a deep puzzle within him had been solved, a message he needed to hear ever since the trainwreck of last night slammed its breaks.

That somebody believed in him.

[ end of chapter 1 ! ]

[itsybitsybatsyspider]

Astrid, Jamie, and Tooth Fairy designs for the Dragon Prince au

The Dragon Prince Au Masterpost

(design notes under the cut)

Astrid - for her design i tried mixing a bit of both General Amaya's armour and her HTTYD 2 costume. - since Astrid is a part of the dragon killing training program on Berk, i wanted to give her a mix of practical armour that she could wear casually (because she's always ready if shit happens) but also keep it comfortable enough for her to wear regularly. - hence the greaves, bracers, and small pauldrons. - her skirt and shirt were my favorites to draw and im really happy with how her hair came out

Jamie - Jamie's was also an easy one to work on. I mainly worked on interpreting his OG design into the Dragon Prince universe and i thought giving him a blue vest (like in the beginning of RotG) and orange shirt would do the trick. - I made sure to keep it simple though, because he is a commoner living on an outpost/village in Katolis, but still tried to give it the same level of depth that DP character designs always have.

Tooth - undoubtedly my favorite one to work on, and it was entirely because of the colors! - i gave her gold cuffs and earrings like we see in her OG design (even tho those are feathers) and the boots were probably my favorite part of the costume to work on! - her Elven markings are meant to be similar to how her feathers shape her face in her OG design, and the hair was so fun to work with and i think it really pulls it together! Thank goodness there are other Skywing elves with multicolored hair (i.e. Nyx) - the vest was probably the most difficult, i couldn't settle on which pattern to go with, but i wanted to make it look like the pants and vest weren't connected like a bodysuit. So the frilled collard shirt was a great help in distincting the two and the slightly different tones on the pants and vest helped to make it look like they weren't a part of each other. - so over all i'm really happy with how her design turned out!

[reynalovesfiction]

· 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 — Xu Hēiyǐng

[ Shapeshifter x reader ]

You figured a dating app would make love easier, until you encounter a catfish... Or maybe just a Shapeshifter?

Contains: Strangers to more? Kinda Fluff, first date, reader and Hēiyǐng met in a dating site, kinda cat fishing? Hēiyǐng needs a hug :((, bittersweet ending, reader is realistic (in some way)

A/N : Just realised that Hēiyǐng appears kinda ooc in here. But, drama so :P

Love sucks.

Let’s rephrase that: love is accessible to get, but difficult to attain. Whether humans decide from now on that their love is just casual intercourse or humans chase each other like they’re prey and predatory, love is something so simple, yet humans make it complicated. Strange how humans work these days. It’s like they wanted to destroy themselves to have a high at something. The rush or the adrenaline of having fun rather than commitment.

As a human yourself, you don’t seem like the ‘relationship terrorist’ other than your friends. You would call yourself a peacemaker of relationships. The one who yearns affection and genuine love. The one who would love to give people's flowers or receive the flowers. Anything you fancy, your longing for simple love makes you non-human.

Humans love to rush, Don’t they?

In the era of social media and apps, love has become online money for dating. Swipe left, and you have found your match. As a guilty pleasure, it affected you.

Employing affection for online banking and similar activities is not immoral, it is merely disheartening. But, if the people surrounding you are human as ever; go around chasing unnecessary highs for an exchange of someone’s love life and self esteem. It’s worth a try, right? How bad can it be?

Sliding to the left, your gaze remained fixed on your phone as you encountered some men. Arms stretched like a cat and eyes glued to your own phone. Most of these men and none interest you. The app was sketchy; some men edited their photos to the extreme, and some even had concerning information about themselves. Humans are strange creatures. But you’re human yourself. So, why bother complaining? You need a date somehow.

After swiping left a few times, you got a match. Shocked, you looked at his profile picture.

His eyes were ocean blue, almost as if you could swim into his eyes. The strands of his hair were wavy, like the beachy waves, representing the essence of the ocean waves. Your match’s skin looked like sand but felt nothing like the texture of it.

Strange, like he wasn’t real. He was an illusion or some sort.

Still, you are interested. You give him a shot. It’s now or never.

Months after speaking to him, you learn many things about him. His name was Xu Heiying. A strange name, considering that his face looked like a white person. He said he was mixed, wasian. Chinese-American. Make sense. But, it’s as if his Chinese genes weren’t there…

More about him, he is a fashion designer. He draws. He likes stray cats. there was so much information about him, you can’t seem to get him out of your head. He’s a shy artist. Very much your type.

You decided to meet him in a cafe. Your first official date with each other. The cafe wasn’t the first place you had in mind, but if it helps with Heiying’s nervousness, then so be it.

You arrived early in your ‘going out’ outfit. It’s an outfit you didn’t expect to wear in a cafe but it will be worth it, right?

Well, all hope was lost when Heiying made the appearance. He does look Chinese, of course. But, he looked nothing like the pictures. He looked nothing like what his profile said he was.

He had eyes made out of lavenders. His hair was straight like the stems of the flowers. His skin was fair like the scent of the sunset. His clothing options were rather bizarre considering he’s a fashionista but wearing baggy clothing. Along with some hairpins and accessories that didn’t fit the picture.

Did you get catfished?

“Hey…?” he smiled, “I’m Heiying. you’re…” he mentions your name after a bit of a pause, “Right?”

You looked at him in disbelief, like a female cat scolding her partner because he had a different scent on his fur. This isn’t what you expect. Sure, he’s more attractive than the photos he sends to you but he… lied to you about his appearance.

“I know it’s not what you expect but let me explain…” he began to sweat. But before he could say a word, you stood up from your seat.

“I need to go…” you mumbled, needing to walk away from this situation.

“W-wait!” Heiying called your name as he followed you out of the cafe. Is he actually trying to reason with you on why he just catfished you? You didn’t care about his reasons, you just wanted to leave. Taking the steps of the floors to the entrance of the cafe.

You open the door to the outdoors of the cafe, huffed at the disappointment towards Heiying. You can still hear Heiying from the back, still calling for you. To at least explain his situation. “Just… let me explain and you can leave this date without any care, okay?” Heiying sighed.

You turned towards him, “You may explain.” You let him talk. Even with the frustration in you boiling, you wanted his point of view too. You are understanding, but not a doormat. You know your worth.

“Thank you…” Heiying was relieved, “It was never my intention to catfished you… You see,” There was a large pause at his sentence. As if he told you, you won’t believe him. “I’m a shapeshifter…”

You furrowed your eyebrows then raised a brow, your mouth opened a gap. “Okay, you got me. I’m very confused…”

“I knew you would get confused…” he mumbled under his breath, “My shapeshifting abilities work differently than normal shapeshifters.” He scratched the back of his neck.

“I can’t control it, to be honest. My shapeshifting abilities only work on one strong emotion,” he gulped, “If I feel insecure, I shapeshift into someone else…”

At first, you were still confused on why he would do this silly thing. But, you do realize one detail about Heiying. At least, he’s honest. Sure, he may have catfished you into believing he’s chinese-american man but maybe he just made a mistake? Maybe he really doesn’t mean like that.

Though, that doesn’t mean your trust in him has been restored that quickly.

“I understand if you don’t want to continue this date with me.” Heiying sighed through his nose, looking down, “Sorry for the inconvenience.”

You sighed, giving him your own point of view. “I’m glad that you’re being honest to me, Heiying. I figured the Heiying on your profile is the time where you were insecure and seeing you in your true form means you still have confidence. I appreciate that.”

Heiying lifted his head up to you, his eyes shining from the sun.

“Because of your honesty, I would love to continue this date with you. But, that doesn’t mean I fully trust you because you still lied to me.” you added.

“I understand!” He exclaimed in excitement, “I’ll make up for it by taking you anywhere you want after our cafe date.”

“That’s sweet of you, Heiying.” You smiled, “Let’s get back inside, alright?”

The day went better than you expected. He brought you a cafe latte and he got himself an americano. And after coffee and longing talks about each other more, you both took the trip to the bookstore. Just to buy a book or two.

Maybe he isn’t bad after all…

[miniwheat77]

Sweet. (Captain Price x Reader)

!NSFW, Smut, Fingering, Roofies, Oral Sex (fem recieving), unprotected p in v sex !MINORS DNI! Edited!

*added p in v sex part*

When you were recommended for 141, nobody really seen why.

Captain Price didn't think you were all that special, none of the others did either. But nonetheless, he decided to give you a chance. He was a little hard on you for awhile, pushing you during training, being a little rough when it came to talking to you, and his punishments were even worse. He was very difficult and you didn’t understand why he seemed so passive to everyone except for you.

You hated being apart of 141, it was the worst thing Laswell had ever recommended. You thought maybe Captain Price hated you because you were young. He seemed to have the mentality that the military wasn't meant for young adults. Which, truth be told. It probably wasn't. But it was the only means of escape you had.

"This mission is different." Captain Price makes his way inside the conference room. Stacks of papers in his hands. "And I think this is the perfect time, we see what Y/N's got." he smirks. This clearly wasn't an important mission. Otherwise he wouldn't have you on it. Because for some reason, he hated you. "This is a capture only mission. Y/N will lead the way." He smiles.

—

A sigh falls from your lips. "You know. I'm a little annoyed that I got roped into this. I had intentions of someone else doing it." You complain. Captain Price chuckles. Sitting next to you in the limousine. "Well, sweetheart. You happen to be the only female around. Besides, you never said how you'll get him to tell you anything or how you'll capture him." He smirks. "I have a plan. Just trust me." He nods his head. He's wearing a suit and you have on the tightest black dress known to man. Tall black heels and your hair and makeup is done to the best of your ability. Something Captain Price hadn't ever seen before.

"Follow my lead." You mutter. He follows you up through the front doors of the penthouse, very similar to the one you'd captured Valeria in. It's full of people dressed to perfection. There's a huge dance floor surrounded by tables. The both of you make your way inside, sitting at the bar.

For the next hour, it's the both of you trying to blend into this party, even going as far to dance with one another on the dance floor.

"I have eyes." You whisper to John on the dance floor. He spins you around, your back pressed up against him, his mouth right next to your ear. "I see him too, you ready for this ah?" he smirks. "Oh yeah." His hips brush up against yours and he closes his eyes for a second.

It doesn't take much for you to get your targets attention. Sitting a few stools down from him at the bar. "Whatever you do, do not let me be in a room alone with him for too long. No more than 5 minutes if you have no eyes." You mumble into the radio.

"Copy." John says, he's a little confused by how crucial you've made it sound. The man sits down in the stool next to you and begins talking to you. It doesn't take long until he's wanting to get into a room upstairs with you. You sweet talk him the entire time. You get into the elevator with him, nervous the entire time. "Eyes." Ghost says into the radio, a sense of relief going over John. He had seen you enter the elevator.

Once he has you alone upstairs. He puts a hand on your side. "I know who you are. American Military ah?" He whispers, the hair on your body stands up. "Yes." He wraps a hand around your throat and Ghost lines up a shot. "I came here to warn you. They planned to attack tonight. I'm on your side, I want to join you." You plead with him.

John narrows his eyes, he's still sitting at a bar on the first floor. The radio is oddly silent. "Look now!" you plead, just as soon as Soap makes his way up the stairs, the man draws his weapon. Soap lets out a yell as the man shoots at him. "Falling back Captain!" Your radio goes off.

The man narrows his eyes at you. "Why should I trust you?" he asks. "She knew he was going to shoot and didn't tell me. We need to leave, regroup, and find a new plan." Soap says into the radio. "The hell?" John shakes his head. "I'll tell you anything you wanna hear." You breathe out. He nods his head. He grasps your wrist, dragging you along. "Is she working for him?" Soap asks. "Don't know. Whatever you do Ghost, do not lose sight of her." John says into the radio, attempting to make his way up the elevator but it was taking forever. "Yes sir."

"That cheeky little minx!" Ghost exclaims into the radio. "What? What's going on?"

"She's just roofied him!" He laughs. "What? How?" Soap asks. "She must've convinced him it was acid. Put it on her tongue and than swapped it to him." He laughs. "Gross, like... she kissed him?" Ghost rolls his eyes as soap says it. "Shit, he's pulling her into a room. Get to her now, I have no eyes." Ghost says frantically.

Price hears it and gives up on the elevator, trying to make his way up the stairs.

He pushes passed everyone, reaching the second floor where you were.

He opens the front door. Seeing there’s nothing but random stuff laying around the room. He quickly moves to look through the rooms, opening a door to a bathroom. The other must be the bedroom. He kicks it open.

The man is on top of you, he's delirious but he's pulling your dress up. You're trying to fight him off, but he's got your hands pinned with his knees. John pulls him off of you and he passes out as soon as he hits the floor.

"Y/N?" He asks. You look far more scared than he’s ever seen you. "Captain." You hug him quickly. "What happened darling? Are you hurt?" He pulls away, looking you up and down. "He.. He tried to.." John shakes his head. "Did he?" He asks. You shake your head. "It's alright. You did amazing Y/N." He breathes. Pulling you into his side. Soap pushes into the door, seeing the room is a little messy and the man is on the floor. "Why were you so adamant on 5 minutes?" Soap asks.

"She's a virgin." Ghost says, he's on the windowsill. He startles all of you. He'd used a tool to get across to the building. "What?" Soap asks.

He laughs. "You wouldn't notice at first glance. But around him she was a little awkward. Maybe a bad idea to throw her out there as bait." Ghost starts to tie up the man. "I had no idea." John says. You look at the ground, cheeks lighting up. "I... Yeah." John nods his head. "Come on, lets get him back to HQ."

—

"Hey." John says, tapping on your door that was already open just a crack. "Hey." You say back, turning toward the mirror. You were pulling all of the bobby pins from your hair. He closes your door behind himself.

He pulls his hat off, sitting down next to you on the edge of your cot. "I owe you an apology." He says, grasping your hand in his to get your attention. You turn to look at him, your eyes were stunning to him, complimented perfectly by the eyeshadow you had put on.

"I should not have sent you in there like that. I know how bad people like him could be to women and I didn't think about your well being. For that, I'm very sorry."

You smile, looking down. "I should have been up front. I should have told you I was uncomfortable. I let him intimidate me in there. I didn't like it at all." You look down at your free hand, the other pulling out the final bobby pin. You almost take Johns breath away when your hair falls out around your face, something he hadn't ever seen before. "I just.. you're kinda hard on me. I wanted to prove to you that I could handle it, but having him stare me down like he did. Touch me like that. Just made my skin crawl." You mumble.

He places his hand on your bare thigh. "I know love. I am a little rough on you, but I have to be. I want you to understand that if you let your guard down even just a little, you'll die. I care about you and I don't wanna see you hurt. Ever. If something happened to you, I'd never forgive myself." He sighs. "You really proved yourself today, you did great. And by the way, you're a great dancer." He smiles. "You had me fooled, ya did. I would've never guessed you were a virgin." Your cheeks heat up. You laugh.

"How the hell did you convince him to take the roofie ah?" You smile, looking down. "I'm very sneaky and manipulative, Captain. It was easy." He laughs. "Try it on me." he turns. "Okay." You look forward, taking a deep breath. "You know, this dress is a little tight." You spin around, pretending to be uncomfortable, moving closer to him. “You mind helping me?” You mumble. He thinks it’s bait, unraveling the back of it where it’s tied. Once he’s got it taken off, you pull it down slightly. Revealing your cleavage.

You turn to look at him. Staring into his eyes. You swallow hard feigning innocence.

You lean into him, pressing your lips to his.

He's got a tight grip on the blanket, and you keep his interest for quite some time. Even going as far to wrap your arms around his neck.

When you finally pull away, his eyes are closed and when he opens them again, you look at him, a smile on your face. "Okay. I don't see how that's manipulative in any way." He looks confused. You tilt your head. "Maybe not manipulative but sneaky.” You smirk. "Check your pockets."

He narrows his eyes, feeling around his pockets, but they're all empty.

He looks confused.

You bring your hand from behind your back, holding a cigar and a dog tag in your hand.

His eyes widen, a grin covering his lips. "You are a cheeky little thing aren't you?" He laughs. "That kiss even felt real." He laughs. Your smile falters a little bit. His eyes widening. "Oh, because it was, wasn't it?" He laughs. You blush at his teasing and turn away from him. He smiles, grasping your chin and pulling your face to look at him. "Look at me, lass.”

He presses his lips to yours again and you smile into his lips when you feel him reaching for his cigar. You push his hand away, sliding it into his pocket, not taking your lips away from his for even a second.

He starts to lean back and he pulls you with him, lifting your hips up so you could straddle him as he lays back on your bed. Your lips stay on his and he needs to stop you, but he can't. "Y/N, you gotta stop me sweetheart. I can't stop myself." He pants.

"I.. I don't want to stop you." You’re breathless. He pushes you back slightly and he stares into your eyes. They glimmer in the light from your small lamp and he needs to stop. Before he goes too far and gets you both into trouble.

In a way, he feels like he's taking advantage of you. But he can't stop himself. "Lay on your back." He mumbles. Once you do, he pushes himself between your legs. He leans down, kissing you again. This time with a little more desperation than the last. He pulls away, planting a kiss right onto your chin, than again on your neck. He trails them down, tugging your dress down along with him. Sucking love bites into your chest where your breasts were nearly exposed to him.

"Do you want me to stop?" He pulls away for a second, hands gripping the top of your dress. You shake your head. “No..” you whine.

He pulls the top down, revealing your breasts to him entirely. You suck in a sharp breath. How someone could go from hating you to touching you like this so quickly was beyond you.

He plants a kiss to your nipple, maintaining eye contact as he does so, parting his lips just slightly to run his tongue along it. Sucking it between his lips gently. A whimper falls from your lips, you start to squirm underneath him. His facial hair scratches your skin perfectly, creating a burn that feels so good, you couldn't quite describe it.

He moves to the other side, doing it once again to your other nipple until you're starting to whimper a little too loud. You were waiting in anticipation, wanting nothing more than to feel that burn between your legs from his facial hair. The thought alone making arousal pool between your legs. He kisses down your stomach, tongue running along your skin as he moves, lower and lower. He pushes your dress up and over your hips, fingers wrapping around your panties and pulling them off. Your dress bunches up over your stomach. Revealing you to him completely. He looks up at you again, eyes meeting yours. As he lowers himself into you, he keeps eye contact.

Licking the first stripe up your slit, swirling his tongue around your clit, having to hold back a grin when your eyes screw shut. Watching you fall apart beneath him. He's gentle, flicking his tongue against you, gripping your hands tight in his. He draws one of them back, gathering up the wetness from you and his saliva, pulling away for just a second to rub his finger up against your opening, gathering the wetness on his finger.

You whine out, bucking your hips into him. Clutching a handful of his hair.

He lines his finger up with your entrance, you take a deep breath as he slides it in.

You feel full immediately.

He flicks his tongue slow and steady over your clit, pumping his finger inside of you until he could get you wet enough to handle 2. Once he slides the second finger in, you practically melt beneath him.

You cover your mouth with both of your hands, trying so hard to stay quiet. He wants nothing more than to hear you call out for him. Moan his name. He’d put money on it that ‘John’ would roll perfectly off that sweet tongue of yours.

He starts to flick his tongue a little faster, sucking lightly on your clit when his tongue would get tired and you couldn’t help but buck your hips into him. He tries to hold you steady with his one hand, but you’re struggling. Moaning and whimpering but it’s muffled by your hand. Squirming and bucking your hips into him. At this point, he wonders if you’ve ever even been touched at all. He circles over your clit, the wet sounds he makes is lewd as it fills the room.

“John… I- I’m gonna cum.” You whimper. It’s so low it’s almost inaudible. He almost misses it. But he doesn’t, he pumps his fingers into you, scissoring them and curling them up into you, watching the way your body reacts so perfect to him, flicking his tongue against your clit. It’s so much for you, and finally.

Your hips buck into him, a whimper escapes you as you reach your climax. John keeps flicking his tongue and pumping his fingers to ride out your high until you close your thighs around his head, whimpering as you grasp his hand to keep him still. He smiles up at you, lips and beard glossy with your juices. Your face is flushed, you’ve got love bites all over you Mr skin, artwork. Your hair is a little messy now. He takes a deep breath, sitting up as he palms himself through his jeans.

“You taste fuckin sweet darling.”

Your cheeks burn.

It was intense, but you can’t help but want more.

“We’ll get you used to me. We’ll move slow, yeah?” He nibbles at his lip. You nod your head at him.

“Good girl.” He breathes. “Maybe we should wait to go any further-“ he goes to stand up. You reach out for his hand, stopping him. “Wait-“ You breathe. “I.. I want more.” You bite your lip. He looks confused. “Please-“

He sits down. “You.. you want me to-“ he freezes up. You sit up, taking the lead and pressing your lips to his. You move yourself on top of him, hearing him sigh into your lips. You pull away for just a second to unzip his pants, tugging his cock from his boxers and pulling them through the zipper in his pants. You line him up with your entrance, sinking down onto him. Between his saliva, your arousal, and his fingers stretching you out. You’re ready for him.

His fat tip parts your folds, you shake slightly. He’s big. Stretching you.

You slide down onto him, mewling out as he reaches depths nobody has ever before. Your thighs give out when he bottoms out. “Fuck!” He gasps. He looks between the both of you. Watching you raise yourself up and slide back down onto him. Starting to bounce your hips on him. Riding him.

He hisses out, lifting his shirt up and pulling it over his head. You soak the jeans that wrap around his shaft. Reaching down to unbutton them. You’re whining out. The soreness of losing your virginity has subsided. Now, you just rock into him. He reaches up, taking your nipples between his thumbs and pointer fingers, rolling them between his fingers. You cry out, tipping your head back. Rocking into him back and forth until you can feel something building in your stomach. “John-“ you mewl. Hearing his name come from you in such a filthy way has him desperate. “Can’t take it baby.” He groans. He forces you over, flipping you until he’s on top of you.

He’s rough, the cot creaks beneath you as he fucks you hard. Hips hammering into you as he approaches his high. He’s sweaty and horny. Desperate for his high. You’re tight around him, the sound of him sliding into you eggs him on further. He’s trying hard to keep himself from cumming so soon, but it’s been so long. You pull him into you, kissing him to silence the both of you. He keeps his steady pace, hard, deep thrusts. He pulls away to attack your neck with his mouth. Not caring if he leaves marks on you.

“I’m gonna cum baby.” He gasps.

You look up at him. Moaning out. “Me too.” You breathe. “Cum with me sweetheart.” He breathes. “Look at me.”

He keeps your eye contact, hips moving with yours.

When you reach your climax, feeling him twitch inside of you. It’s pure bliss. Something you’ve never felt.

Something you can already tell you’ll be desperate to feel again.

He whines when he cums, riding out his high and sliding out of you. Moving to lay next to you.

It’s silent aside from the both of you panting. Coming down from your highs.

It’s him who finally breaks the silence. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass to you.” He mumbles. “It’s alright.” You giggle. “It’s not. I’ll be nicer I swear.” He laughs. He trails his fingers over your bare stomach. “I hope this isn’t the only time I see you like this.” He mumbles.

“I was hoping for the same thing, Captain.”

[quibbs126]

And now I have made a part 3 of the human Cookies, this time featuring the Legendaries

You know I’m noticing that recently I’ve been drawing a lot more. I mean I’ve drawn 3 pieces in the last two days and I drew stuff last week. Seems my medication is at least helping something, even if it’s not me doing actual work to get my life together like my parents hoped. But hey, it personally makes me happy I’m drawing more, so it’s at least somewhat of a win

I think I was spurred on to do this one because I was playing around with the Mii maker on my 3DS, and I was making Cookies and started making the Legendaries

I will say, the Legendaries are probably some of the more difficult characters to translate into normal humans, since their designs are more fantastical. Almost all of their hair is made of something not normal, like fire, grass or water, so I have to try and make it at least semi-cohesive. It also means a lot of hair dye

I admit, while Wind Archer doesn’t look terrible, he does look very boring, like a generic guy. But frankly I just don’t see him using hair dye, or getting a lot of piercings. He doesn’t feel like someone who would to me, and so he looks boring

On the subject of designs I’m not satisfied with, I think Sugar Swan came out the worst. I just legit didn’t know what to do with her design. I’m a proponent of short haired Sugar Swan, so I gave her that, but I don’t think it turned out the best. I also wasn’t sure how to incorporate all the wings and swan thing on her head. I got that but it’s not that great

Originally in Sugar Swan’s spot was Millennial Tree, but he wasn’t turning out great so I tried doing Sugar Swan in his spot. Maybe that spot was just cursed or something

I think my personal favorite of the bunch is Sea Fairy, I think she turned out fun. Honestly I can see her going either way with the hair dye, so might as well just give her the blue. The buzz cut thing was actually something I got from another Sea Fairy design that I really like. I was debating between her having black or dirty blonde hair, but I eventually settled on the blonde

Moonlight and Stardust were pretty fun. With Stardust, I wasn’t sure whether I should have him dye his whole hair blue or have him bleach the front of his hair. I asked on Discord and they said the latter, so that’s what I did. But also note, I realized that if I were to try and give him bleached front and also potentially blue tips, he would have had Yugi Moto anime hair, but just flattened down instead of all spiky. Like I’ve seen people draw Yugi with hair similar to it

I wasn’t really feeling it after Sugar Swan’s failed design, but Fire Spirit got my mojo back, I think he turned out good. And with that I was able to make a Millennial Tree design I liked a lot more (while also looking at someone else’s interpretation of his design and deciding to use locs as well). Maybe not the best but not as bad as it was before

I kind of threw in Frost Queen because last spot and also she is an elemental Legendary. With her, instead of her hair being dyed, it’s supposed to be that her hair has actually turned white from either stress or age, with a tiny bit of her blonde still there at the ends. Don’t know why I picked blonde other than light color though

In my head while I was drawing, I was trying to come up with human things for them to do, but I really only got as far as the Dessert guys and the Wizard guys

Moonlight is the heiress of the “Wizard’s” estate, and she lives there and is the self proclaimed custodian. I’m not really sure what Blueberry Pie and Sugar Glass are doing there, but they’re probably also here. I also don’t know what the estate really is, I just have the idea that it’s a big place that the “Wizards” used as a research place, until they just stopped using it or disbanded or died or something. Stardust meanwhile is either Moonlight’s half brother she didn’t know about, or they’re full siblings who were orphaned and then separated at a young age via the foster care system. Stardust’s journey there would be him learning of his sister and her location and then I suppose hitchhiking his way there until he arrived

Meanwhile, Sugar Swan owns this wildlife preserve, which is the Dessert Paradise (probably goes by another name but I can see “Paradise” still being in the name), meanwhile the Dessert guardians, including Wind Archer, are the other caretakers that manage and guard the preserve. Are they also Sugar Swan’s kids? Maybe, I don’t know. Wind Archer probably is though, and maybe Millie’s his dad, I’m not sure

Frost Queen I think is just an accomplished doctor who lives in a more remote area and takes care of patients with a rare condition that she specializes in the treatment of (and also contracted herself when she was younger). She also just kind of dresses like that I guess

Genuinely I don’t know what Fire Spirit does, he might just be like, Pitaya’s adopted son or works under Pitaya, I don’t know. I can’t see him with much of a job

I imagine Sea Fairy has some sort of job (that she might neglect), but I have no clue what that job would be, since it presumably impacts both Black Pearl and Abyss Monarch in some big way, so like, running an aquarium might be too low stakes. Her crush on Moonlight might be something like she met this cute astronomer one time at some sort of astronomy conference or something, but she doesn’t know where she lives and so doesn’t know how to meet her again. Moonlight also thought she was cute, but again, doesn’t know where she lives

And yeah, I think that’s about it. I hope you enjoy these designs