#rbs for visibility are always appreciated :)

[ghstslut]

baby i am plump and ripe.... i'm pinker than shepherd's delight....

[kaiowut99]

Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters GX Episodes 120-121 Subbed (Finalized)

(Previously: Episodes 117-119 Subbed [Finalized])

(Check out my Subbed!GX Stream Masterpost!)

TURN-120: A Battle in a Different World! The Gem Beasts VS Harpie Lady

Upon opening his eyes after his life-or-death bout with Cobra, Judai finds himself in... a desert--a desert in which only the Duel Academia school building stands, making this an odd situation. Well-versed in geology, Jim posits that the Duel Academia has been flung into a different world, the strange circumstances causing disorder among the Duel Academia's students. Things turn for the worse as the Monsters made real in this world come to attack. Johan confronts the Harpie Lady invasion, but...

TURN-121: Survival in the Desert! Johan VS the Antlion

Something has caused Rei to sustain a serious injury. To acquire medicine to treat Rei, Judai and co. head for a submarine that Misawa saw, having to traverse the desert in order to get to where the submarine is. A materialized Titan appears before Judai and the others there, obstructing their way. A battle begins between Titan and Johan, and as Titan materializes his Sand Doodlebug to attack him, Johan responds with his Gem Beasts. However, with Titan summoning a Monster that is at its best in the Desert, Johan is gradually cornered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Does anyone else have sand in their everywhere

Slight delay aside, episodes 120 and 121 are now up and finalized! With Cobra out of the picture, we shift into a bit of a transition arc as we get more setup for the second half of Season 3, with a little dimension-hopping as our crew gets warped to a Desert world (featuring three suns like the Gravekeepers' world) and come face-to-face with materialized Monsters. I do appreciate how this shakes things up and gives us a setting that's away from the Academia island, and also getting the glorious [yet random] return of Misawa, 5-o'clock shadow and all; 120 effectively serves as setup for how this new world works, as well as finally getting Samejima back [as Chronos notes, he never is around for times like these] with Pegasus coming to join him, and the glowing boy getting his hand on Martin, with 121 showing us more, and also a hint at who might be behind the arm ("This pain... is your love, isn't it?"). Also, materialized Winged Kuriboh is precious.

Animation error-wise, there actually wasn't too much overall! (Which is nice since I can keep it all to one post, lol.) Though that would happen since these don't have too much going on all told. 120 gets two small fixes with the Ojamas-in-bed scene and Sapphire Pegasus's second ATK/DEF counter, while 121 gets a handful of mostly quality-of-watching ones, with one card fix and a couple of on-screen translation edits. Details under the cut below for the interested!

Quick housekeeping: I re-finalized episode 46 after an "I activate an Quick-Play" typo was brought to my attention (a holdover from my "Instant Magic" days--thanks to Lyeat Akiyama over on NAC for the heads-up [pls let me know if you find typos while watching!]), as well as 119 after missing an update to the Program Marketing credit in the ED (Kenrou Utsumi taking over from Machiko Ishii as of 119). The 119 link in 117-119's release post now links to the re-uploaded version, as does 46's in its post; I've updated both links in the Masterpost and will be posting the re-finalized hardsub/script/MKV for 46 and hardsub for 119 on NAC soon as I post these.

Anywho, enjoy! With these done, I'll be getting into the ZEXAL stretch of TFSP for a bit as I revise what I'd already worked on for Yuma's story and then start on the next one, as well as getting my ARC-V "Dub-Uncut" edit for episode 1 finally off my backburner (subsequent episodes shouldn't take that long lol--though it's funny, I wasn't going to sub ARC-V since Crunchyroll's done so, but in revising their subs to use with my DU releases [since I want to release dual-audio versions], I still revised quite a bit like it'd be my own take anyway lol, so I guess I am in some way 🙃). After that, it'll be onto GX 122-123 as we get into the Invasion of the Body-Snatchers Duel Zombies stretch of this arc--stay tuned!

Fixes & Edits! (120)

As Manjoume gets up from his Infirmary bed, he pushes the bed sheets down to the foot of the bed, revealing the Ojamas--now materialized--under them. But as the sheets pass over them, there's a quick frame of sheet movement (lasting for three frames) where the sheets are drawn over Ojama Yellow's eyes (partially over his left eye and fully over his right). A quick fix in Sony Vegas by masking Ojama Yellow's eyes from the prior frame on top of the sheets.

As a persistent Harpie Lady comes back for an attack, Johan re-summons Sapphire Pegasus to take her on--but for a quick frame just before his ATK/DEF counter disappears, we can see it start decreasing. A quick fix in Vegas as I masked in the counter from the frame just before to hold it in place (couldn't just hold the frame prior as a whole as the scene started to fade into showing Johan and co. on this last counter frame).

Fixes & Edits! (121)

As Titan asks Johan if he will be his opponent, their split-screen levels up as it becomes a split-screen of their Disks activating, but the split with Titan's starts sliding in a frame before Johan's, causing both to be uneven as they slide in. Fixed in Vegas by masking in Titan's Disk split to start its slide-in with Johan's Disk split.

After the eyecatch, Johan bemoans how his Gem Beasts are at a huge disadvantage on the Desert field effectively in play, before Titan slides in on a split-screen to gloat about how there's nowhere to escape in this world of endless sand--but Johan starts moving for his slide-in a frame early; fixed in Vegas by editing Titan's slide-in for 3-4 frames to time it with Johan's moving. Then, as their split-screen splits to show Cobalt Eagle being summoned by Johan, Johan's split takes a frame longer than Titan's to slide offscreen; fixed in Vegas by just replacing this frame with the following no-split one.

For the hardsub: as Amon sneaks around in the Garam submarine, he finds his bio information on a computer, which he goes on to delete; I set up this edit back when handling his bio in 111 to get it out of the way, applying my translation of his bio to this screen using the CC Power Pin effect in AfterEffects, masking in the edges for blending. (And, of course, edited a dub version for reasons.)

Later, to deal with the Devil Scorpion onslaught, Judai summons Clayman in Defense Mode to hold them off, but the card's reversed as he plays it on his Disk, with its name box facing to the right. Fixed using AfterEffects to apply a correctly facing proxy, masking Judai's fingers onto it and using some motion tracking during the initial rapid blurry zoom-out, while also masking the original card border around it for blending; I then used Vegas to re-zoom the post-rapid-zoom-out fix into the remaining bit of the shot to keep the card consistently edited (since the motion tracking didn't come out perfectly for that part).

After 8-Claws Scorpion's able to take out a face-down Clayman, Johan summons Amethyst Cat and Topaz Tiger to corner and deal with all the Scorpions, but for a quick frame after they're summoned, as they start to split apart from their split-screen, Amethyst's isn't given a border (it gets a border in the frame after). Fixed in Vegas by applying a quick border to her split, masking in part of the following shot of Johan behind the two splits.

For the hardsub: in the preview for 122, as we see Manjoume hanging out in the Food Storage facility, there are posters with Mrs. Tome behind him, saying "Our Food's Important" and "No Stealin' Allowed 🧡"; wanting to translate these in 122 proper--madman that I am as there are about 22-23 total shots I'll be editing--I worked on translating these there first. I worked off the best front-facing shots of them that there were in the episode and made a full translated copy of each poster, repainting Tome as needed to cover up the Japanese text (annoyingly, I couldn't get the border on the heart to blur nicely but oh well), which I then used AfterEffects to Power Pin into place, masking in only the bits with the translated text. Then, for this shot, I used some motion tracking to track the panning across the shot, and then applied that tracked motion to the edit.

Also for the hardsub, the subsequent shot after #6 shows Manjoume with the Ojamas fading in to join him, with the poster on the right behind him; I applied my translation for that poster there, masking in the top tip of Manjoume's hair over the edit as needed.

Also also for the hardsub: during the "Just After This!" preview clip before the best card segment, we see Manjoume prepping his Disk in front of that second poster; I applied my edit to this scene, as well, masking in Manjoume's hair over it, but I also had to take some of the frames and touch them up in Photoshop, since the color of the original text was bleeding into his hair. The poster on the left also appears in the shot as Manjoume plays Tribute to the Dead/Doomed; I applied my edit there as well, masking Manjoume's shoulder over it and dimming it as the shot dims while the light from the card radiates out.

[bubble-dream-inc]

under your skin.

The last walk-in you expected to see in your tattoo parlor in one rainy day was a massive masked behemoth of a man. It came as even more of a surprise when you wanted to see him there again and again; and a final time when he kept coming back.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Tattoo artist reader

rbs greatly appreciated!

WC: 7K

a/n: listen, as a tattoo artist irl, the first thing i did when i discovered ghost had a tattoo was to think how i had to self indulge. i’d kill to tattoo this man personally. shoutout to @117s-girl, @somnibats and Eddie for the tremendous help when i had writer’s block, and @deafeningcat for the amazing beta read as always <3

tags: fluff, reader being horny for ghost, ghost being slightly ooc, mentions at verbal abuse, slightly suggestive and slight angst.

You remember the first time Simon Riley walked into your shop.

It was a cold and rainy day - like most days in Manchester - and you were idling by, doodling on a notebook by the front desk and listening to whatever was playing on the radio without paying it much attention. Glancing at the clock on the wall where the empty loveseat was, you were starting to wonder if you should go get something to eat while you waited, when the bell on the front door chimed, indicating someone had come in.

At first, you thought he was going to rob you, and in a second you were already kissing your expensive equipment goodbye in your head, cursing the fact you had decided to buy that pricey tattoo machine you were eyeing for so long just last week, but those thoughts vanished when the figure just stood in front of you. Silently, you eyed the skull mask and sunglasses that covered his face, wondering what was this guy’s deal, since it was way too grey outside to be wearing any sort of eyewear. Trying not to let his huge stature looming over you be intimidating, you were about to say something when his gruff voice cut the silence.

“You take walk-ins?” 

So he really was a client, you thought. Rummaging through the notebooks in the desk, you quickly glanced at your schedule, seeing your next client wasn’t supposed to come for a few good hours, and decided you were curious about the masked man.

“Well, it depends. What were you thinking of getting?” 

He stood still for a moment, and you wondered if he heard you at all, but suddenly he reached for something in the pocket of his jeans, extending a neatly folded piece of paper in front of you. His voice filled the silence again as you unfolded the paper, and you found the thick accent oddly calming coming from him. 

“I want it to be a sleeve. Covering my left forearm.”

You opened it to find a surprisingly intricate design, and it seemed like whoever did it made it with the intention of actually getting it as a sleeve. Not taking the masked guy for an artist, you found a signature on the bottom of the page, a chicken scratch that read “Tommy Riley”. Usually, you’d make light conversation and ask about the design, especially when it looked important, but something told you not to pry into this man’s business. Assuming he’s this “Tommy” fella, you just smiled politely, deciding you could fit the first session of it into your work day.

“Sure. It should take a few sessions, though, is that alright with you?” He simply nodded, wordlessly, and you decided that was good enough of an answer. 

Leading him into the procedure room after getting his approval on the price, you made sure to give him a consent form for him to fill out and sign while you traced the design to a stencil - making sure to cut the right adjustments to wrap around his visibly huge forearm. You wondered if he was a weightlifter of sorts, or maybe just a gym rat. 

Transferring the stencil to his skin and prepping your materials for tattooing was a completely silent ordeal, and your client seemed more than content in just letting the silence linger for the remainder of your encounter, and even if you were getting antsy by it, you were glad he didn’t comment on how visibly nervous you were when you wrapped your gloved hands around his arm to make the stencil stick - feeling his warmth and the protruding veins even through the latex that covered your own skin. 

“You have any other tattoos?” You asked, stepping on the machine pedal to make sure your tattoo machine was at the right voltage while he got comfortable setting his arm on the arm rest.

“No.” 

“Cool.” God, you felt awkward. “I’m gonna start now, tell me if it hurts too much.”

“Right.” 

You felt stupid saying that to a man that had arms the size of your head and was at least 6,4. As expected, he didn’t even flinch when the needles touched his skin, but you weren’t about to give up on your mission to make conversation with your mysterious client. While tracing it with the machine, you analyzed the design a bit closer.

“That’s some interesting art.” It wasn’t. It was tacky as hell, all missiles and skulls and other edgy elements, but you were not going to say that to him. “You like guns?”

“Something like that.” 

You gave up trying to chat him up shortly after. Even with the weird dad sunglasses on, you could still feel his stare on you, unnerving at best, and you wondered what was up with the mask. In your line of work, you’d met some interesting individuals, and you considered your shop a safe haven for all outcasts and misfits; you’d known, after all you did decide to pursue tattooing as a career. Still, something about this man - Tommy? - made you feel an itch to see what lied beyond the mask - both figuratively and literally.  At least it would take a few more sessions to finish his piece, hopefully he’d say more than five words at once to you at some point. 

It took you two hours to finish tracing it, and you deemed it was good to go and begin shading another day. Getting into professional mode, you gave him directions on how to care for it and asked him to come back after a month to start on shading it, and, as expected, he only nodded to you. Going back to the front desk, he handed the bills containing the price you had settled on, and turned around, leaving without another word. Out of curiosity, you picked up his file. The first thing you noticed was that he had left the “Occupation” space blank.

The second thing you noticed was that the signature read “Simon Riley”.

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

Simon didn’t come back after a month. 

A good few months later, you just figured he’d given up and was now walking around with an unfinished tattoo, or, worse, he had picked another artist to finish the job, and the thought made you angrier than you’d like to admit. Despite your annoyance, whenever you’d organize your clients files, you’d find yourself lingering on his, weirdly curious and feeling like he was a puzzle you were dying to solve.

A long time passed - you don’t know how much, but you’d say it was more than a year - before he showed up again, and, once again, it was unannounced. You were finishing a client’s tattoo when your friend - and coworker - knocked on the procedure room door, and when you’d told her to come in, she looked like she had seen a ghost. 

“There’s a guy in the waiting room asking for you. Said you were doing his sleeve…” She quietly announced, and you just stared at her quizzically, waiting for her to continue. "He 's…Big. Tall guy with a creepy skull mask.” 

She whispered the last part so he wouldn’t hear it, even if he was a good corridor distance away and the metal music coming from the radio would drown it out, and after a few moments you realized she was talking about Simon.  You remember answering something to her and finishing the tattoo on auto pilot before heading to the front desk, and, sure enough, Simon was standing there menacingly, in his whole huge aura, seemingly unbothered by how his height, frame, and mask were making the other clients in the shop regard him with uneasy looks. His eyes met yours once you showed up. You noticed he wasn’t wearing the sunglasses anymore, and his fabric mask had been replaced by a simpler balaclava and a hard skull mask on top that you hoped was made out of a synthetic material. 

Now bare, his gaze revealed its intensity to you, the dark hues following your every move in a way you supposed you could find intimidating if a small, very weird part of you didn’t find it attractive. He seemed tired, eyes cast downwards and with bags surrounding it, and you wondered what had happened when he was gone. 

“Hey.” You breathed, straining your neck to look up at him and completely forgetting about the other people in the room. “Riley, right? I’m guessing you’re here for the sleeve?”

He seemed slightly surprised you remembered his name, but the impression of seeing emotion in his eyes was gone in an instant as he simply nodded at you.

“Yeah. You got time?”

You didn’t. But you’d make it work, you weren’t about to send away the man who had, for some reason, plagued your thoughts so much for the last months. 

“I got a few more clients, but if you don’t mind waiting, i can fit you in?”

You hated how uneasy you sounded, your hands fiddling with a stray loose line of your ripped jeans as you waited for his answer.

“That works.” 

With his gruff reply, he turned and sat down in the waiting area, and you released a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. 

The hours went by, the clients came and went to and from your procedure room as well as your colleague’s, yet, every single time you left the room to go to the front desk have a sip of water or check your next client’s name, Simon was still there, patiently waiting, the loveseat seeming oddly small under him, and his all black, dark getup blending perfectly with the black walls of the studio. If anything, it made you even more intrigued, since most people would have left by now, considering how long a tattoo takes and he could just come back another day, but he didn’t show any signs of having anywhere else to be. The people traffic started to wind down, and soon enough, you dismissed your last client of the day as you were the only artist left in the shop and the sun had already hid in the horizon. 

“Glad to see you again. I was wondering if you had gotten another artist.” You laughed somewhat nervously, taking a breather by the glass door while Simon finished filling out another responsibility form, and you had to ignore how nervous you felt when he turned to glance at you with those dark and intense eyes of his.

“Got busy, that’s all.” He murmured, setting the pen down on the front desk and turning to the wall where your flash pieces were displayed. “And I like your work.”

Feeling your eyes widen, you tried to conceal how flustered the comment made you feel behind a cool chuckle, but something told you Simon could see right through you. Going back inside and pointing him towards the procedure room, you briefly glanced at the fresh consent form and realized he filled out his occupation this time, the words “Army” surprisingly not phasing you one bit.

Simon was the same as the last time, quiet as a grave. But, seeing as you were wrapping up the shading quicker than you’d anticipated, you decided this time you would not let this mysterious man walk out of your studio - possibly forever - without at least getting one piece of information out of him.

“So…does it mean anything?” You nodded towards his arm, trying to play it cool. Being in this field, you quickly realized not everyone gets tattoos that mean anything, and most of them are really just for aesthetics, but the signature below the original design had you wondering, even if the newfound information that he was in the military made the over the top missiles and dog tags inked on his arm make a lot more sense. He stared at you from behind the mask for a moment, making you feel queasy under his stare and suddenly very aware of how much you were draped over his arm trying to get the shading on one particular skull to look just right.

“Yeah.” After a few moments he replied, a wave of sudden relief washing over you upon realizing you had not, in fact, crossed a line. “My brother made it.”

“He’s quite the artist.”

“He really was.”

Oh. 

You decided to drop the subject after the implication.

“And what branch are you in?” Not looking at him, you spoke in a low tone, too concentrated on the machine in your hands to realize you were maybe asking more than he was comfortable talking. “You know, uh, in the army.”

“Special Air Forces.” You realized he tensed almost imperceptibly, relaxing once you only hummed.

“Cool. I’d reckon you guys had tattoo parlors closer to base, though.” 

“We do.” He huffed. “But I know the guys. Not nearly as clean as here.”

At that, you chuckled gently, missing the way Simon’s eyes softened at the sound.

You continued the piece in comfortable silence, distantly registering the pitter-patter of the rain that had just started falling on the street beyond the front doors. Finishing it up, faster than you would have liked, you decided the corny design looked good - really good - on him, and he might have been the only guy possible to pull it off, which could have been related to how big and strong his arms looked. Wrapping the tattoo in plastic film and reminding him to not keep it on for too long, you had to focus on acting professional and not let him know you were ogling at the recently inked piece of skin. The long sleeve shirt he had rolled up to his forearms did not help you one bit, nor did the way his eyes followed your every single movement.

When you got back to the front desk - relieved to find the rain had stopped - you expected Simon to just pay and leave silently the same way he did the last time, but he actually lingered, letting his eyes wander through the flash pieces displayed in a neat corkboard in the waiting room - this one with your name written on top. You actually don’t know when he got your name - something told you it was when he asked your coworker for you. He seemed quite interested in one particular design that had been gathering dust for a long time on the board, considering how big it was.

“See something you like?” You followed his gaze, realizing it was a ram skull chest piece you had completely forgotten about; it looked too dark and menacing for most people looking for walk-ins and flash tattoos. “That one was meant to be a chest piece. Works for the back, too.”

Simon studied it for a few moments. What was up with this guy and skulls? Finally, he turned to you.

“When can you do it?”

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

The third time Simon Riley walked into your studio, it was, by far, the most memorable one. 

Unsurprisingly enough, he had decided to set an appointment for the chest piece to be the last one of your day, a week later; whether he enjoyed the night time better or just wanted to not be bothered with other people around, that was a mystery to you. There was a third option in the back of your head, but you told yourself it was delusional, and your fascination with the masked man was, in fact, one sided. That didn’t stop you from greeting him with a cheery smile as you looked up from where you were doodling on your notebook on the front desk, pretty much like your first encounter. However, you didn’t think too much of what exactly the chest piece implied as you headed to your procedure room with Simon in tow. It hit you like a ton of bricks when you freezed for a second, holding up the carbon stencil in your hands.

“Uh, you might wanna…take off your shirt. It’ll be more comfortable for you.” 

Preparing the stencil gel, you tried your best to ignore him and not let your eyes wander too much as he lifted the unnecessarily tight black t-shirt over his head, careful as to not remove the balaclava and skull mask combo, folding it neatly and setting the piece of cloth over your table before standing next to you in front of the full body mirror. 

I’m a professional. I’m a professional. I’m a professional.

If you thought Simon was huge before, that was an understatement. 6,4 feet of pure, naked muscle stood inches away from your much smaller body, and you were extremely relieved to realize that he had, probably out of consideration for you, shaved his chest beforehand - the same couldn’t be said for the faint happy trail very clearly peeking from his jeans, sitting way lower on his hips than you’d like. Scolding yourself over and over for fawning like a horny teenager, you hoped the nervous tremble in your hands as you delicately smoothed the gel over his collarbones wasn’t as obvious as you felt it was. Even through the latex gloves you could feel the heat coming from his pecs, as well as a few minor scars that shouldn’t give you too much trouble. You decided to ignore the very visible and very big bullet scar on his side. As he adjusted his dog tags to hang behind his neck so as to not get in your way, you finally peeled the stencil off, trying to calm your frantic beating heart as he analyzed it in the mirror to make sure it was in the right placement. 

It got worse when he actually laid on the tattoo table - comically dwarfed under his enormous frame. Sure, you had tattooed a fair share of chests along the years - both men’s and women’s - and it never really flustered you, after all, it was your job, seeing skin was a very big part of it. However, as you lowered your torso on the bed and tried to adjust your hand to sit as comfortably as possible on his chest, you thanked the gods it was such a big tattoo; you had no idea how you wouldn’t mess it up if it was a tiny one. But you doubted Simon would ever get a tiny tattoo. Above all, you could appreciate how he maintained his breathing slow and steady and, again, didn’t even flinch as the needles touched him, making you like him as a client even more. 

“I’ve heard you guys in the army got…codenames?” You started, desperate to start some conversation before your intrusive thoughts won. “What do they call you?”

Slowly, you were getting used to his brief silence before answering you. It seemed like his way to decide if your question was worth answering or not, and you were glad he had found them all to be so far. 

“Ghost.”

“Very fitting.”

You were surprised to hear him exhale in a way that resembled a very weak laugh, and you felt giddy knowing you made your ever so quiet and serious client laugh - or something like that. Feeling calmer, you continued the very big piece, strapping in for a long next couple of hours.

They passed quickly, your hand working almost in autopilot as you traced the tattoo’s lineart and made light conversation with Simon - Ghost. You learned he was a Lieutenant, liked bourbon and the mask never came off. Granted, it was mostly you speaking and him answering, but you were glad he was entertaining your nervous ramblings, and you were only slightly embarrassed to admit to yourself you found his southern British accent very soothing on his deep, gruffy voice. In turn, you told him a little more about yourself; why you got into tattooing and even a few funny stories from dealing with past clients. 

Finally deciding it was enough strain on his skin for one session, you set your machine down and admired your work, smiling under your mask. Taking a generous amount of the tattooing balm on your fingers, you swallowed your nervousness before gently spreading the substance on his chest so it would heal nicely, not missing the way he relaxed under your touch. If you weren’t so busy panicking by having your hands on such a massive and attractive man, you could ponder on how he seemed to be enjoying that as much as you were. With your approval, he got up to examine the piece on the mirror, and you caught yourself staring into his strong, chiseled, and scarred back, before averting your eyes, choosing to focus instead on cleaning up the inky mess you made on your trolley. You once again went through the now familiar ordeal of him silently thanking you, paying, and leaving into the night.

As Simon Riley left the studio that day, carrying an unfinished piece of your work right on his chest, you realized something clearly had changed in the air between you two. You just had no idea if it was a good or bad thing.

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

The next time Simon showed up, a month later, you were stressed out of your mind.

You were booked, so you didn’t really have any open spots next to closing time the way he liked it, so he had to settle for coming a bit earlier than usual, which meant there were actually other people in the studio for once, including the one on the front desk yelling in your face.

You couldn’t really remember what he was yelling about, just that you were suddenly regretting your decision of working with people and wondering if it was worth it to stoop down low and insult him back the way he was doing to you. You figured the moment he started yelling about his already finished tattoo that it was most likely another scam attempt coming from him, but it didn’t really matter anymore once you zeroed in on the hulking figure that showed up unexpectedly behind your unpleasant client in the form of your masked savior. For a moment, you were scared things were going to get violent, but Simon didn’t have to do much. It took one glower from him, his gaze sharp enough to cut from way above the smaller man, and he was suddenly stuttering apologies and leaving the studio in a hurry. You ignored the looks the other people in the waiting room were giving the two of you, offering a tired, but extremely grateful smile, to Ghost.

“Hey, Riley.”

He was still staring at where the man had left, and the annoyance on his usually so stoic gaze came as a surprise to you. 

“What happened?” 

You were already heading into the procedure room, too shaken to deal with the stares of the people in the waiting room any longer, and shot him a sheepish look from over your shoulder. 

“Just a rude client being difficult. Not the first time he gave me trouble, either, but it happens.” 

Simon didn’t seem too happy with your answer, but he let it slide, for the moment. Heading into the room and closing the door behind you, the air fell into a familiar silence, broken only by the cluttering sounds as you set up your supplies, and, to you, your still frantic heartbeat in your ears by the less than pleasant interaction just a few minutes earlier. It was unlikely, given how observant he was, but you hoped Simon didn’t pick up on just how shaken you were. Still, you took a few moments to calm yourself down as you tested the machine with your feet; Simon had already made himself comfortable on the table, and soon enough you fell into the rhythm of inking him, the same way you had grown used to in those last few months. Focusing on a particularly stubborn piece of skin where the ink didn’t paint as easily, you were lost in thought when his voice pulled you back to reality.

“Are you scared of me?” You heard him ask quietly from above you, instantly knowing he was referring to the way your earlier client had run off on the sight of him. Pausing your ministrations, you looked up from his chest to find him already staring at you in a way that made your heart skip a beat. Since you were currently working on the details on his collarbone, you haven’t realized how close you actually were to his face, and suddenly you were hit with the realization you could feel his breath through both your masks; and an intoxicating scent of cigarette smoke and cologne. Caught in a trance by his dark gaze, you realized a little too late you were gawking and not really answering his question, which made you feel very glad for the surgical mask covering your suddenly very red face and flustered expression. Looking down to continue your work, you tried to find your words once again.

“Not really. I mean, the mask was off-putting at first, but I've had some odd people as clients. You’re cool, though. You remind me of those big, scary guard dogs, but in a good way.” Cringing at the lame answer, you felt like a kid talking to her crush in middle school all over again, and the huff-slash-chuckle that left Simon only made it worse. It seemed like he wanted to say something else, but he didn’t, and in your flustered stupor you couldn’t find any words either, so you just let the air around you fall into a comfortable silence over again. If it were anyone else, you’d be wary of the constant quietness, but, for some reason, Simon’s presence was enough to make you content, even if no words were exchanged. 

Blacking out the parts that had to be inked was a piece of cake for you and your enormous needle - which you were glad was being used on Simon, since, most of your other clients would have been crying from the pain only halfway done with the black - and soon enough you were heading out to the front with him, readying yourself to bid him goodbye and, disappointedly, only see him again in the next month, once his tattoo was healed enough for another session, however, as you approached the waiting room, he made no move to leave. You thought maybe he was, again, inspecting your work displayed on the wall, the prospect of continuing to tattoo him after his chest piece was done getting you giddy already, but he was looking nowhere but in your direction, eyes unreadable behind the skull mask.

“I’ll wait until you close. Who knows if that asshole won’t come back expecting me not to be here anymore.” 

Blinking up at him, it took you a few moments to process what he had murmured under his breath, and, in an instant, your heart rate shot up as you tried to wrap your head around the implications. Had it been any other client, you would have laughed it off, telling him not to worry and that you could take care of yourself, but it wasn’t just about anyone. It was him. And for some reason, the fact made you only wordlessly agree with a nod of your head and wide eyes, certain he could now see how clearly flustered and red your face looked. An intrusive part of your brain was screaming at you that he was just being nice, and that the protectiveness was just because of his job and nothing else, but you’d entertain these thoughts later - if ever.

So, much like the second time you’d met him, the rest of your afternoon was spent with seeing Ghost’s massive figure patiently waiting in the way too small loveseat in the front room of the studio, living up to the scary guard dog imagery you had joked about to him, except, this time, in between clients you’d sit besides him to catch a break and make light conversation, the deep rumble of his voice soothing all of your worries in a minute. 

As the hours went by, it was way past nightfall when you closed up, everyone else had already left and you were exhausted after washing the studio on your own. True to his word, Simon loomed behind you like a shadow, quiet and intimidating, refusing to leave until he had walked you to your car in safety. You remember thanking him profusely, and him not making a big deal out of it, and the way your heart thrummed in your throat as you drove on autopilot to your house, trying to ignore the way Ghost’s figure walking besides you on the quiet sidewalk a few moments before felt just right. 

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

It was early August when you woke up in a very good mood that one morning.

Later you’d realize it was because it was the day of Simon’s appointment, but at the time you had chalked it up to just being a sunny day that brightened your spirits.

Business as usual, you went along your day, anxiously waiting for the place to empty out and you’d get your newly discovered favorite customer, not that you’d admit it outloud to him, or even to yourself. It was actually a slower day, with a big break between clients, which you were glad about, so between coffee and water breaks and chit chatting with your coworkers, soon enough the sun went down and the enormous figure of Ghost could be seen crossing the threshold of the studio’s glass door, responding your enthusiastic wave with a nod of his head, eyes relaxed behind the mask. As usual, he followed you inside the procedure room, and you remembered something.

“Lemme see how your sleeve is healing.” Extending your hand, you smiled cheekily at him, giddy after seeing his half-hearted eye roll, and he gave his left forearm for you to inspect. With his busy way of life, you’d have expected to be worse, but it was actually very well taken care of. “Wow, this has healed up perfectly, good job, Simon!”

You beamed up at him, but your smile faltered once you saw his eyes widening at the praise. Oops. He grumbled something in response and you decided to save him the embarrassment, releasing his arm with a chuckle.

No matter how many times he did it, every single time Ghost took his shirt off it made your brain short circuit, but you remained professional and fell into the familiar routine of tattooing him in comfortable silence, only this time it was broken not only by you talking first, but also him. It surprised you to hear him ask you questions first or tell you some non-compromising stories about his job, - making you chuckle a few times hearing about the shenanigans of this “Soap” friend of his - but you weren’t about to complain. You were lost in the familiarity of it all when you realized that you were actually almost done with the shading - meaning his chest piece would end one session earlier than expected. Trying to mask your disappointment, you wrapped it up, forcing a smile to a suddenly very confused Ghost. 

“I thought we were going to need another session but, uh, turns out it was…faster than i expected!” You gave him a slight, nervous chuckle, and you swore you saw his eyes widen behind the mask. 

As usual, you wrapped the ink in the plastic film - finding it very hard to make the masking tape stick to his large pecs - and gave the same instructions in a robotic way, following him to the front desk where he finished paying for his piece, all in absolute silence and with unreadable eyes. As the transaction was finished, he lingered, standing silently in front of you, looming. You couldn’t meet his eyes.

“So, yeah, i guess that’s it…” You gave another chuckle, offering him a gentle smile. “Hey, don’t be a stranger-”

“Do you want to go out with me sometime?” He blurted out, shutting you right up, and that stopped you dead in your tracks. You stared up at him, unsure if you had heard him correctly, and were waiting for him to say something else or even backtrack, but that never came.

“Uh. Yes? I mean, yes, sure! I’d love to!” You stammered, certain you were wide-eyed and a flustered mess, not expecting him to be so straightforward, or, even say anything at all. Simon seemed a lot more composed than you, even if the way he blurted his question out made it seem like he could be slightly nervous. You doubted he ever got nervous, though. 

“Great. Does this weekend work for you?” 

Thinking back on your schedule, you remembered that no, it didn’t.

“I’m booked with work…But, the next one I should be free.” You hated how awkward you sounded.

He nodded, and took his phone out of his pocket to extend it for you, and you assumed he was asking for your number in the Ghost-est fashion possible. You unlocked it, noticing the lack of a password and the factory wallpaper, realizing it was probably a personal and barely used phone, punching your number in and saving the contact. As you returned the device to Simon, you found solace in realizing he probably felt as awkward as you did.

“I’ll see you in a fortnight, then.” 

With a last nod of his head, he left, leaving you flustered, confused, but extremely giddy, and with a heart pounding against your ribcage. 

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

Simon came back a week before he was supposed to.

As usual, you were closing up shop when he showed up, distractedly walking around the front room of the studio as you organized everything for the night, the sound of the heavy rain outside covering up the creaking of the glass door, so when you turned around, his presence startled you. 

“Hi Simon! You’re early.” You chuckled once you recovered from your scare, but he didn’t match your energy. He was just standing there, stiff as a plank, and staring silently at you. Growing increasingly worried, you were about to ask if he was alright when he beat you to it. 

“I’m leaving for a mission. And i’ll be gone for…some time.” 

Your heart dropped, and you could only stare at his mask trying to process his words and find words, but ultimately settling on a quiet and disappointed oh. He finally approached you, and in less than a second he was standing towering over your figure, holding you in that familiar eye contact you’d grown to look forward to so much, even if you'd realized by his gaze that he seemed just as upset as you. 

“Will you…be in danger?” It was a dumb question, but you couldn’t help yourself, everything you told yourself the days about moving slowly and waiting for your first date to decide how much you cared flying out the window as you openly worried for him for the first time. Ghost sighed, and suddenly you were hyper aware of how close you stood.

“I always am.” 

Not breaking away from his intoxicating gaze, your words lowered to a whisper, a plea.

“Be careful. Please.” 

The air stilled around you, thicker in tension that got worse with each passing millisecond, all of those feeling like hours. Simon’s height had never seemed so intimidating, and you never chastised yourself so much before for liking how his intense aura made you feel, something that increased tenfold once he boldly got even closer to you. Opening and closing your mouth like a fish, hoping something would come out eventually, you stilled upon feeling his gloved hands gingerly touching your face - dwarfing you in them - and you swore your heart was about to leap from your chest to your throat in a matter of seconds. His steely gaze flickered downwards briefly before returning to your eyes, asking for permission for something you didn’t even know quite right what it was, but that you’d give him regardless. The rough texture of his gloved left hand reached your now slightly parted lips as he traced the bottom of them with his thumb, moving his other hand to slowly lift up his balaclava just enough to expose his - unsurprisingly - sharp, stubbled jaw and full, lightly scarred lips. You barely had time to admire what you could see of him before his face was merely inches apart from yours, your breaths mingling together from both of your parted lips.

“You don’t even know what I look like.” He mumbled against you. A silent beg for you to stop him now, but you wouldn’t even dream of it.

“I don’t care.” You breathed back, voice barely above a whisper, and that seemed to break his resolve, as in the next moment he was leaning in and finally capturing your lips with his. 

Kissing Simon Riley in real life was so much better than what you imagined. His height made it that he had to lean down an awkward amount to reach you and you actually had to stand a bit on your toes, but none of that mattered as you finally felt his lips move against yours, surprisingly slow and gentle for a man that looked like that, but you supposed he was always full of surprises. He moved his hands from your face to your waist, gripping with a little more force when you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, encouraging him to kiss you harder - it would be a waste not to feel just how strong those huge arms of his could get wrapping around you. Groaning into your mouth, his touch soon became ravenous as he tasted you like a starved man, both of you now knowing it might as well be the last time you’d see each other, but you didn’t want to dwell too much on it, choosing instead to focus on the way he gripped the back of your thighs and lifted you onto the counter as if you weighed nothing, getting even impossibly closer to your smaller frame, never breaking the kiss. You felt like you could stay wrapped up in his arms for hours, but at some point you had to part your lips, keeping your foreheads touching and looking at each other without saying another word.

He waited until you closed up and walked you to your car again; except, this time, as you watched his retreating figure from the rearview mirror, your chest felt constricted, the unsureness of if he’d ever come back alive clenching your throat in fear. 

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

The late june spring air smelled good, and you were in high spirits. 

You hummed contently, cleaning with a paper towel wet with soapy water the last smudges on the inked skin, leaning back to admire your work. The black crow on his upper back turned out particularly good, and you found it amusing how its edgy nature went along well with the other tattoos already on his body. Spreading the hydrating vaseline to wrap the piece up took a little more than you’d take with other clients, since you were busy admiring and feeling up the strong, scarred back beneath your fingertips. 

“All done!” 

The man got up, admiring the crow in an awkward angle in front of the full body mirror, and you couldn’t help but keep staring at the muscular back and pecs that you could see from your position in your chair.

“Quit the ogling.”

His voice sounded gruffy, but slightly amused, which made you chuckle and get up, stopping by his side to lean against his huge arms and stare back at him through the mirror.

“Quit being hot, then.”

Simon rolled his eyes, but you knew he was smiling under the mask and possibly had the slightest red dusting his cheeks - since he was so pale, you’d always notice it when he had his mask off, and in turn, he’d always notice how you’d stare at his face with a smug smile. He looked over the tattoo once more before you wrapped it up, past the stage of giving him the instructions, all of them already second nature to him, considering it had been so many years he started getting tattooed by you.

“You know” You started as he followed you to the front door of the mostly empty studio, the only other sound being the tattoo machine of a single other coworker that was staying late in their own procedure room. “You don’t have to wait for me, you know I still got another client and it should take one or two hours more.” 

Ghost huffed, turning to you with his hands on his jacket pockets, the height difference between you never failing to take all the air out of your lungs.

“Nonsense. He’s not supposed to be here for another half an hour, right? I’ll go grab us some dinner from that place you like and I’ll be right back. I’ll help you close up then we can go home.” 

You shook your head with a giggle, watching as he came closer to you, and were about to protest more but he gave you a look that left no chance for you to be stubborn, shutting you right up. Taking one hand out of his pocket, Simon lifted his mask just enough for you to see his jaw - which you had already admired that morning while he was shaving - and his lips, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on your cheek. You smiled, feeling him murmur just so you could hear it.

“See you in a minute, love.”

With that, he left, leaving you to watch fondly his retreating form from the glass door, as you chuckled dreamily one last time and went back to your procedure room.

[bokutone]

˗ˏˋ MORNINGS WITH THEM ˎˊ˗

including: kita shinsuke, bokuto kōtarō, suna rintarō, kuroo tetsurō, iwaizumi hajime. genre/warnings: it's all fluff i think. a/n: i really want to start posting more things so pls feel welcome to drop suggestions on my asks hehe.

kita — your mornings start before the sun shines, your body feels the movement beside you when kita decides it’s time to start the day. the feeling of emptiness on the bed is enough to wake you up and join him in the kitchen, a soft peck on the lips, and a quiet “morning” greet you every day. while the sun rises above the sky and the soft light enters the room, you can feel the warmth in your chest because looking at the man you love cooking for you while the birds sing their first songs is the best way to start your day. 

bokuto — the usually loud voice of bokuto is calmer in the mornings, whispering a good morning while he hugs you and keeps you warm between his (beefy) arms is comforting in many ways; those moments at the start of the day are irreplaceable. soft hums of discomfort rumble under your ear, and the way he holds you tighter when you try to get up makes you giggle every day, it’s a routine, no matter how many days pass, mornings are always the same lovely fight. 

suna — mornings are lazy, with neither of you wanting to leave the bed, it’s kind of hard to start the day, but you’re always the first one to move. you struggle to get up when his arms are around you, the words “it should be a crime to get up” sound every morning at 7:40 am. you have to fight to get him up, but when he’s finally on his feet, you get yourself a child. he follows you to the bathroom, then to the kitchen, standing there waiting for the daily morning kiss you give him when breakfast is ready, and it’s just after that when your favorite middle blocker wakes up. 

kuroo — mornings with him are never the same, on the weekdays he’s usually the first one to wake up. with his arms hugging your waist and his lips leaving soft pecks on your face you open your eyes to see his face first thing in the morning. but on the weekends it is the other way around, your hands caressing his face, your voice murmuring a quiet “morning” when it is already noon is the first thing he loves to hear. breakfast in bed and movies as background sound for your weekly gossip session is something you love to have, and every morning is different, even though you’re both the same. iwaizumi— your mornings are comforting, neither of you is much of a morning person and that’s more than perfect. with a battle of rock, paper, scissors you decide who’s the one in charge of breakfast. he lets you win every time just to see your smile, and you pretend to not know that because you enjoy seeing him shirtless in the kitchen (and who doesn’t?). between laughs and smiles, a few kisses are exchanged, a few i love you’s are muttered and lots of love is visible in the comfort of your home. and so your day begins, with iwaizumi hajime by your side.

rbs and comments are really appreciated!

[meruz]

📌

hi tumblr my name is meruz im a bg artist who works in animation. i do comic projects and fanart in my free time. my art tag is #meruzart

portfolio / digital store / print store / misc. links (linktr.ee)

📝 FAQ below!

Can I use your art as ______?

8Tracks and Spotify Playlists: Go ahead! please credit me either meruz.tumblr.com twitter@automeruz or ig@automeruz -  AND SEND ME THE PLAYLIST this is not a requirement really but I would love to listen to it.

Social Media Layouts/Icons/Headers: Good by me! but again PLEASE credit me somewhere VISIBLE on the layout. If it’s a twitter or insta header/icon credit my twitter/insta @automeruz and if its tumblr credit my tumblr @meruz​

Phone BGs, Desktop Wallpapers: definitely ok!! Any personal and non-commercial use of this nature, I’m cool with. If you ask me, I may even send you a hi-res version of the file but you have to promise to not scam me and sell it lol…

Instagram Reposts: A lot of artists would say no but I’m gonna say go ahead as long as you credit and tag me in the post, again my ig is @automeruz - if you don’t, and I find it, I will bug you about it in the comments and possibly even report you. Nothing personal, its just standard procedure.

Twitter/Tumblr Re-posts: Don’t?? Just RT or RB it from me?? whats wrong with you? I will report this.

Other site re-posts: I’ll probably say yes but again please credit and for this one PLEASE ask me first. It’s nothing personal really, I just want to know where my work shows up.

Video edits/fancams/comic dubs: Yes! Absolutely go ahead! Credit would be much appreciated but moreover please send me a link I especially love to see this stuff!!

I also reserve all rights to have you take it down if I do not agree with the usage or context, especially association with politics on the webpage/app/etc. 

What do you use to draw?

I have a surface pro 8 at home and I use a 22in cintiq at work. Occasionally… I do personal art at work LOL. I use Photoshop CC almost exclusively except the occasional phone drawing which I’ll do on HeavyPaint or Autodesk Sketchbook (but mostly Heavypaint). What brushes do you use? For painting I use the same horrible brushes I downloaded from deviantart like 14 years ago and I cobbled them together for download here. And for lines ive been using shiyoon kim’s brushes which you can grab here. 

What do you use for plein air paintings? If it’s digital, almost exclusively Heavypaint. Traditional, I use gouache. A mix of Holbein acryla and normal gouache either windsor newton or m. graham.

What kind of sketchbook do you use? I use moleskine cahier XXL sketchbooks! I’ve been using moleskine cahiers for probably over 10 yrs now? they come in packs of 3 for like 30USD (the price went up recently booo but $10 per book is still not bad) for the largest size. I think a lot of people associate moleskine with intimidatingly fancy covers & paper but the cahiers are rly lightweight and flexible. you can bend the xxl into a roll like a newspaper and the covers are a light cardboard so you can draw all over them. I always have trouble with spiral sketchbooks getting fucked up in my backpack because I really throw my stuff around a lot but the binding on the cahiers can take a beating and have never fallen apart on me.

Do you take commissions?

Yes, occasionally. But it changes depending on my workload - please e-mail me at isellhotdogs@gmail.com for any inquiries!

Do you have a store?

I have a itch.io here for mostly digital goods.

and I have an INPRNT store here which is print on demand so if there’s anything you’d like to see on there that isn’t just ask and I can generally put it up!

[the-rainbow-lesbian]

Hey, this is the anon from yesterday. So I took your advice and there were two other girls who were really anxious about the bathroom situation who were ALSO fed up with everyone else worrying about not being "sensitive" and "inclusive" of this MAN'S hypothetical gender issues... we all had classes or work or stuff to do at different times yesterday but one of the girls who actually saw him in the bathroom saw him AGAIN in the hallway and figured out his room number, and then the other girl (the bravest of us all lol) called one of the higher level building staff to complain about the situation. turns out he did NOT have gender issues of any kind: he was a guest of some girl who was just giving him her key card to use the bathroom....instead of just coordinating with the staff to enable access to the men's room on the card (which I've done before! It takes less than 5 min and can be done at any time).... and he wasn't even using it because the bathroom door was broken and didn't even work (you didn't have to swipe anymore, you could just go in)

by last night the door was fixed (after waiting over 24h and asking twice, but still). I don't know yet what happened with that guy and his girlfriend who lives here, but from what I understood they were going to be dealt with accordingly.

So while we were being policed and humiliated for being paranoid about someone who is undisputably a man using our bathroom and for not being "sensitive 🥺" to the 0.0000000001% chance that he was transgender, he was out there not giving a damn, using the bathroom like he owned the place. he also acted in a very entitled manner in the bathroom itself; when someone gave him a look, he gave her an attitude, saying "I know" and just walking out. Like...wtf.

Anyway, now me and the two girls have mentally checked out from the rest of the group (those sensitivity criticisms occurred via group chat) and made our own group lol. No point in wasting our time with them in the future

Like you, I'm an Arab woman from the Middle East living in the West (though not the same circumstances, and my current visa is temporary - wishing you the best with your circumstances). Sometimes it feels like you can't really win as a woman anywhere. Back home, I feel suffocated. If I get honor-killed by a family member, he only has to pay about $50 as a consequence; I can't live alone, no abuse shelters in my country, no nothing. Constant pressure to be with and serve men. Marriage pressure. Etc. etc. I'm sure you know what it's like. Here, though, I also feel suffocated. In some respects (especially outside) I think the threat of physical danger can be much worse. But then there is also the exhausting pressure of having to constantly keep yourself in check and make way for men even in spaces and movements (feminism) that are supposed to be for WOMEN. It's ridiculous. Of course added to that are racism and even Islamophobia (though I am not "visibly Muslim" as they say) for being from an Arab/Muslim background.

Thanks so much for listening yesterday, I really felt like I had nowhere to turn to! I think bc of our similar backgrounds I really trust you.

Also if it's ok I'd appreciate if you disabled rbs again, if you post this

I am glad to hear from you again, and also glad this situation was dealt with and you found allies through it. it is frustrating that a woman gave him access to your space and did not even consider or care how you all feel about it, and also really sad that women were trying to silence and gaslight you, you’re right as a woman no matter where you are you always come second, the possibility that a man might be transgender was prioritized over the safety of women and women themselves agree with this message cause we are taught that we are not important.

yeah I get what you mean, I am much safer and happier here, I have more rights for both being a woman and a lesbian, but still I suffer from isolation because lesbians are not allowed their own single-sex spaces anymore, feminist groups don’t really talk about real issues that women go through, it’s fabricated statistics about how TIMs are the Most Oppressed Group ever and so many women are ignored because of this nonsense, I have yet to see a big feminist organization dedicate their funds and time to immigrant women when we need so much help and not just performative activism. if anything their superficial need to alter language to make it more ~inclusive can confuse women who don’t speak English as their first language and they might not access services and resources they qualify for due to that.

I hope your situation whatever it is improves and you stay safe, I hope you make wonderful connection with your new allies and no more males invade your bathrooms and shower. reach out anytime anon!

[touyababe]

about touyababe

welcome ! my name’s isaac, and i’m trying to make it as a writer. sadly, life gets in the way, so i don’t always get to write. i’m doing my best, though.

21+ years old, she/her. professional procrastinator and professional idiot.

dabi/touya todoroki apologist

fandoms

my hero academia, haikyuu, jujutsu kaisen, demon slayer, naruto, free, sk8 the infinity, tokyo revengers, the mcu, star wars, harry potter

disclaimer: i will likely only write pairings from the fandoms that are in bold. requests and asks are always welcome. if you want to see my my most likely pairings and what i will not be writing about, please look here.

dni / dnf

— if you’re a minor (younger than 18)

this blog contains nsfw work. i’m not comfortable with minors interacting with my work. please display your age on your profile. i will remove anyone from this blog that doesn’t display their age visibly.

— if you ever hate against any religion or beliefs

— if you discriminate minorities

note: please do not spam, i’m working as fast as i can. likes and rbs are always appreciated, please be nice

links and more

— make sure to visit me on my main

— my works are in my masterlist

— send me asks whenever !

love,

I

[milkyhub]

— [ KAZUHA AND HIS LITTLE STEPSIS ] +18

♡⃕ anon req. smth with kazu’s pretty little stepsis who does everything with him and listens to everything he says <3 they love each other so much, enough for her to ask him to take her virginity, and he does. praise and maybe size kink included? have a great day/night <3

♡⃕ note. but ofc 🥺 enjoy!! like and rb are appreciated!! <3 asks open for more reqs and thirsts! mdni, dark content ahead!! block if u don't like this type of content!!

♡⃕ cw. dom! kazuha, modern au, stepcest, masturbation, he's a perv, slight corruption kink, size kink, praising kink, unprotected sex, calls u baby once, slight possessive behavior, hint of breeding kink???, not proofread.

♡⃕ pd. this is one of the asks requested on my other account @itzbwmbi, currently shadowbanned. im using this one since it seems that the problem is not getting solved anytime soon. sorry for the inconveniences and the sudden change of accs.

stepbro!kazuha who from the day he started living with you swore to protect you from everything and fulfill all your wishes. you were so small and cute that he couldn't refuse anything you asked for, even if your whims were worth half his savings. your parents were so proud of your good relationship, leaving the care work to kazuha when they had to go out. in addition, with him you'd tell that you had a better time.

stepbro!kazuha who no matter how many years passed, he was always going to treat you the same, like his dear little sister. he'd do everything you wanted, whether it be watching a series together, playing video games, going out for a walk. anything you ask for, he'd have it done in less than a second, and all because of how much he loves and appreciates his sweet stepsis.

stepbro!kazuha who maybe loves you a little bit more than he should. now that you have grown up, he's realized how beautiful you truly are. you were literally so hot that his prying eyes kept roaming your body every time you turned around.

stepbro!kazuha who you show all your new dresses to, making it difficult for him to maintain eye contact when the clothes are too tight, making your curves and that nice ass more visible. he always has to look away, cheeks turning pink as his mind keeps looping over the image of your body in that short dress, wondering what's under it.

stepbro!kazuha who jerks off in his room thinking about his innocent little sister. feels so dirty and guilty but he can't help it :( he pumps his cock up and down imagining it was your tight little pussy instead of his hand. he knows that you are a good and innocent girl, and you have never thought anything obscene about anyone, and a great feeling of remorse surrounds him when he looks at you the next day.

“if you only knew the things i think of you...”

stepbro!kazuha who knows for a fact that you've never done anything sexual. knows that you are still a pure and clean-minded girl, not like him. and he wants it to be that way for a long time. the simple fact of thinking that another boy could steal that innocence fills him with rage and helplessness. you're his little sister, no one has the right to steal anything from you, except himself.

stepbro!kazuha whose eyes can not believe that one night you silently appeared in his bedroom, tears rolling down your reddish cheeks while you try to drown your sobs with the back of your hand. he's so surprised that he just watches your movements as you crawl over to his bed until you lie next to him. it doesn't take long for him to open his arms and give you a space on his chest to rest your head there, stroking your hair once you're positioned over him. you hug your stepbrother tightly, flatly refusing to look at him as you shyly whimper the next few words.

“please help me stop being a virgin. i want you to fuck me, please, kazu...”

you can't see it, but kazuha's eyes instantly light up and his heart seems to stop for a second, his breathing becoming erratic as he processes your words. he has many questions about it — why do you care so much about losing your virginity? why have you chosen him, your stepbrother, instead of any other boy? despite all his doubts, the answer that comes out of his mouth is clear and firm. “i'll help you. but you have to be quiet, 'kay? or they'll hear us and we'll have a big problem.”

you thought he was goingto refuse, and now that the opposite has happened, terror fills your body. this is wrong, so wrong, it's your own stepbrother, it's his bed, and your parents are at home, sleeping in their room. as you think of all the possible bad endings, you don't realize that kazuha has changed positions, and now his figure is on top of you, his hands on the sides of your head supporting his weight so as not to hurt you, slowly lowering himself to join his lips with yours for the first time, moving them desperately as if he's been wanting this for a long time.

stepbro!kazuha who gently pushes your panties aside, his long fingers brushing against your pussy making you shudder and hiss. unable to wait any longer, he takes his cock in his hand and pumps it a couple of times before lining it right up against your wet entrance. “i'll go slowly. tell me when you want me to stop.” his cock is huge at your eyes, so big you think it won't fit. you squeeze your eyes shut as the tip of his hard cock begins to work its way through your walls, stretching them oh so nicely. the way your pretty pussy tighten around his cock makes him gasp slightly. “just relax, or i won't be able to control myself.”

stepbro!kazuha who starts pounding into you once you are adapted to his size. it's now that he realizes how small your body is compared to him, but you're so cute, the feeling of corrupting you is making his cock twitch inside you. “fuck- you are doing so well, taking my cock s'good, baby.” he whispers in your ear. seeing how your pussy clench to his praises, he keeps whispering in your ear how well you're behaving, how well you're doing, and how well you've done in asking your reliable big brother to take your virginity before any other guy does it.

stepbro!kazuha who pushes your thighs towards your chest with his hand, giving him access to hit the most sensitive spot of your pussy with his cock. with his other hand he wipes away the tears of pleasure spilling out of your closed eyes, cherry lips red and swollen from the intense make out session kazuha has given you earlier. he was so needy of you, he just couldn't help it. he'll apologize later. <3

stepbro!kazuha who wants to cum inside you so bad but knows that would be problematic for you both. his slender fingers move in circles on your clit, accelerating your orgasm as his thrusts become sloppy because he too is getting closer and closer, the knot in his abdomen becoming more and more unbearable, needing to quickly get his cock out to end over all your stomach, warm white fluid staining your skin to the last drop.

stepbro!kazuha who apologizes if he has been very rough at some point, but your face denoting pleasure and exhaustion assures him that he's done a good job fulfilling his sister's wishes one more time. oh sweet, sweet little sister of his… how he wishes you'd ask him again to use his cock to relieve yourself whenever you needed it. :( you'll ask him again, right? after all, he wants you to use him as you please. <3

© 2022 milkyhub.

[snzunii]

BONNIE AND CLYDE.

You can exceed all things because you’re you and he’s him— and together, you’re both unstoppable.

+ pairings. sanzu haruchiyo x f!reader.

+ tags. romance, heavy angst, fluff, explicit sexual content, use of obscene languages, sexist slurs as part of sexual intercourse, fellatio, cunnilingus, 69, dacryphilia, edging, choking, deepthroat, praise + degrading kink, impact play, biting, unprotected sex, rough sex, vaginal fingering, mouth fucking, overstimulation, objectification, consensual image taking, violence, gun violence, mentions of blood, criminal activities, 18+ (pls tell me if i forget something 🥲)

+ word count. 3.5k

+ note. sooo hi hello, as u all know i have a big ass sanzu brainrot ahkasjljhdsal so here's the product yaaaayyyyy. sanzu and all the characters mentioned in this are aged up. ok ok hehe anw, i hope u enjoy this <3333 likes, rbs, replies are always appreciated <3 or u could send me an ask whatever makes you comfortable! lovelots 🤍

+ soundtrack. always forever by cults ; i don't wanna be okay without you by charlie burg ; arms tonite by mother mother

“Ouch!”

Sanzu exclaimed but that didn’t stop you to press the cotton on his wounds even more. “Stay still, stupid.”

“You press it so hard!” you just rolled your eyes at his childish whine and continued on cleaning the wound on his cheek.

Sanzu wrapped his arm around your waist and sits you on his lap, “Haru! I’m cleaning your wound.”

“I’m not stopping you, just sit on my lap while you do that.” you sighed but straddled him, you get yourself comfortable on his lap while he just stares at your face in silence. You didn’t notice it at first but you suddenly get this consciousness.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He just shook his head and continued on staring at you with his dazzlingly blue eyes. Instantly, you felt the heat on the surface of your skin, you just cleared your throat and looked away from his eyes and continued on nursing his wounds.

“Why do you stay with me?”

You smiled, there is no any sane reason why you stay with a man like Sanzu— your friends always tell you that, even your family. But you never listen to them because they don’t know him. They don’t know how he is to you.

All that they see is just the tip of the iceberg. Sanzu may be like this but there’s more to him and that is all for you to see.

But you know they’re right, Sanzu isn’t good for you. Heck, they don't even know all the bad things that you have done with him and they're like this already; you have joined a riot, street racing, shoplift, gambling, drive under the influence, get high, drink until you’re both far from yourselves and cause disturbance in the club. Hell, you two are banned on this particular nightclub and was jailed overnight because of your stupidity— luckily, Koko both bailed you out.

The worst you both did was rob a bank and you think it won’t stop at that.

“Cause you’re crazy.” you paused and smiled at him, “And I’m just as crazy as you.”

You both know you’re not good for each other, you bring out all the worst in each other. You both do things that a sane person wouldn’t do in a lifetime.

Though, ironically, you also bring the best out of each other.

“Hmm. You aren’t wrong there.”

You hummed as you kiss his scar located on the side of his lips, it was your favorite thing to do and Sanzu totally loves it when you do that. “There. All done.”

“But baby...” Sanzu started, you looked at him. “My dick also needs nursing.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked as you slowly kneel down in front of him, “Let me see.”

You unzip his pants in a slow manner while you look at Sanzu who’s currently looking down at you with a visible smirk in his handsome face.

“Uh-huh. See?” he said once you took his pants down to his feet, leaving his erect cock straight to your face.

“Oh.” you cooed, wrapping your hand on his shaft giving it slow pumps, “I’m going to take good care of it, hm?”

Sanzu started groaning, his breathing gradually gets ragged as you move your hand up and down his cock, dick jolting a little bit under your hold as Sanzu is eager to feel the insides of your pretty warm mouth.

“Mouth, now.” he ordered, but you’re a gutsy little vixen. You were never scared of Sanzu, so why would you obey him when you get to tease him like this? “Fuck... now. Don’t make me shove it in your mouth.”

It was like your ears were plugged; you’re blatantly ignoring him. You didn’t hesitate to lean in and give him false hope, instead of sucking him whole, you gave the tip of his cock kitten licks— tasting a bit of a precum that was coming out of his slit.

The next you knew, Sanzu was holding a fistful of your hair into his hand— shoving his dick inside your mouth, deep into your throat. “Told you not to make me shove it in your mouth.”

You gripped his thighs as you try and relax your throat but Sanzu was bobbing your head like your mouth was a fuck toy, his hips moving as he jerk his dick in your mouth harshly. A bit of tears coming out of your eyes causing for Sanzu to laugh like a maniac. “Not so sly now, are you? Shit, yeah suck my cock.”

You groaned, feeling the cloth in your crotch area getting wet. Sanzu watches you with a dilated pupil, mouth slightly ajar. He loves the sight of you, helpless under his hold, tears staining your cheeks while your soft lips wrapped around his cock with a bit of saliva dripping from the side of your mouth, you suck him so devotedly like his dick is your place of worship.

Sanzu’s other hand reached for your face, outlining the trace of your tears that fell to your cheeks, widely smiling.

“So pretty with a cock in your mouth...” he reached for his phone in his pocket and pointed the camera in your face, taking a snap of your face with his cock in your mouth, you didn’t protest because you’re used to him taking a picture of you while you suck him off.

Sanzu smiles triumphantly as he looks at the photo while mumbling beautiful before throwing it on the couch.

“Your mouth is mine, hm?” he pulled your head away from his cock, giving you some air. “Answer.”

You gasp, looking up at him with your glistening eyes, “Yes. It’s yours, all of me is yours.”

“Good.” he shoves his dick back on your mouth, pace was even faster than before. Your mouth was wide, jaw was getting a bit sore but it never crossed your mind to stop Sanzu because you know yourself that you like him using you like this. Letting him own you.

Sanzu was a bright light and you're blinded by him. You’d do everything for him and not even hesitate for one bit because you know he’ll do the same.

You feel the familiar hot load shoot inside your mouth and along with that was Sanzu’s long guttural moan. “Swallow it, angel.”

...

“Haru... tired. Ah!”

Forming sentences seemed like a hard job to do when Sanzu’s railing into your throbbing, probably swollen hole for hours.

“But you’re a good whore, right? That’s not what a good little slut would say...” he rammed harder, “A good girl would just let me fuck her stupid, hm?”

You squirmed when his palm came in touch with your bum, painting the complexion red with a hint of purple. Your legs were getting wobbly, your arms were getting weak. Sanzu gripped your hips and lifted your ass again, “How am I going to fuck you if you don’t get your ass up?”

“Tired... please.” you mumbled.

Sanzu groaned and flips you over, now you’re lying on your back. He spreads your legs and enters your pussy once again and all you could do was moan and babble incoherent words while he rams his cock in your soft velvet cavern, painted with his cum from earlier. “Louder, baby. Let ‘em hear you.”

You moaned a bit loud but it wasn’t enough for him, he slaps you and holds your chin. “I said louder.”

You whimpered when you felt the sting on your face, tears once again fell from your eyes. He doesn’t know if you’re moaning or crying but either way, it turns Sanzu on. A feral grin was visible on his face as he stares at you with a wanton glint in his eyes.

“That’s good. Good whore.” he grunted, pressing his hand on your throat. “Fuck- yes. You look so pretty when you cry.”

Your breast was bouncing at his every move, getting sore because of how rough he is at ploughing you. He felt your pussy clench around his cock, body arching a bit as your hips meets his every thrust. Your whimpers were getting louder and needy.

Ah, he knows what it is.

He stopped moving and removes his cock from your hole— disappointment all over your face which pleases him, he sat beside you and pumps his own dick.

“Why... let me come. Please.” you pleaded with a raspy voice, you tried to turn to your side to look at him. “Haru... come. Let me.”

“No. You already did many times.” he answered, head thrown back as he pleasures himself. “Look how wet the sheets are.”

“Please.” your shaking hands reaches for his dick, he lets you. You moved your hand up and down his shaft slowly. “Haru, please?”

He sighs, you begging like this would make him come in an instant. “Alright, pretty. Let’s do sixty-nine, hm?”

You carefully position yourself above him, your pussy facing his face while your mouth was stuffed with his cock again.

Sanzu spreads your pussy with his fingers, not hesitating to lick your slit with the flat of his tongue. Sucking and giving your clit a gentle bite causing for you to writhe above him and whimper on his cock. He then gripped your thighs that was on the side of his head to hold you still.

You let go of his cock with a pop, exchanging it with your hand as you lean your head down for a bit, closing your eyes in pleasure. “Shit— Haru!”

He spanked your ass once again, “Fuck, don’t stop. You’re doing good, baby.”

Sanzu continues on lapping your folds, giving your clit rigorous licks every now and then when his tongue reaches it. You moaned a bit loud when he thrusted his tongue in your hole, tasting his own juices. If only you could see how proud he looks when he saw how swollen your hole is.

He removes his mouth from your cunt and gives it a gentle stroke before slapping it— entering three fingers and thrusts it in relentlessly while he bites your ass.

You don’t know why Sanzu isn’t tired when you’re having sex for hours now. You can’t think of a place where he didn’t fuck you in your apartment, every nook and cranny of this house has its own memory. His cum was all over your cunt, face, breasts, thighs— basically almost all over your body.

He could go on for hours but you aren’t complaining, you’re just tired but you won’t stop him. You’re his cum dump after all.

You felt Sanzu bit your ass a bit harder and then he came inside your mouth.

You swallowed all of his juices earning a low good girl from him while he continues on thrusting his fingers inside your pussy and not long you squirted yours on his face.

You fell on top of Sanzu earning a chuckle from him before he removed you on top of him, carrying you to the bathroom and into the bath tub.

Yeah, you are a feisty little minx but once Sanzu rails you, you’re like a helpless fuck toy who’s only purpose in life was for him to use.

He climbs into the tub with you and wraps his arms around you while giving your hickey-filled neck soft kisses, soothing your aching body with his smooches. You just throw your head back on his shoulder.

Comfortable silence fills the bathroom, you just close your eyes as you let Sanzu soap you up and take care of you. It’s your deal, if he fucks you like that he has to take care of you after and as much as he loves to go rough on you— he also loves this.

“This smells good, what is this?” you whispered but enough for him to hear.

“Essential oil.” you opened your eyes and looked at Sanzu with a disbelief look, “What? Kaku said it’ll help for sore pussy. It will appease the pain, y’know?”

“What the fuck...” you murmured and laughed afterwards. Sanzu just buried his face on your neck, probably a bit shy because of what he just told you. “Do you really talk about that to them?”

“Shut the fuck up.” he said but you just laughed at him and because your laughter was infectious, he laughed with you. And now you’re two idiots laughing your asses out while you’re soaked in the tub.

Two crazy idiots, happy and in love.

The laughter dies down and you’re both silent again. Sanzu leans his forehead on the side of your head. “Don’t leave, okay?”

Sanzu knows how he is, he knows what people— your family and friends say about him. He may be tough and a low-life dangerous asshole but when it comes to you, he folds. You’re his Achilles’ heel, his kryptonite.

If he loses you, it’ll be his downfall. He’s still sane at this point but once you are gone from him, he’ll utterly lose it.

“I won’t. I’m yours forever, Haru. I’ll never leave your side.”

...

“Do you think we still have time?” Sanzu asks you as you fix his tie.

You rolled your eyes, you’re wearing a bodycon dress that makes your breast pop out. Naturally, he would want to fuck your brains out again and you would agree to that but you’re currently about to rob a bank.

“How about you fuck me later when we finish this job? Like, fuck me on a bed full of money.” you said as you wiggle your eyebrows up and down at him.

Sanzu contemplates it for a while, “You’ll keep the dress on?”

You groaned, “Of course, I’ll keep the dress on. Now, let’s go.”

Sanzu grinned and plants a small kiss on your lips before heading out of the apartment and into the car that’s waiting for the two of you.

You were tapping your fingers on your lap; you are feeling uneasy. Of course, who wouldn’t? You’re about to commit a crime again but you’re not uneasy because of what you’re doing is wrong. It’s because with this job, you don’t know every outcome.

Every heist was like you have your other foot on the grave. You don’t know what’ll happen.

“You okay?” you heard Kakucho ask you and you gave him a simple nod. Sanzu, on the flip side, held your hand and squeezed it.

“Don’t worry, baby. It’ll be like old times, hm? You’re amazing at this.” he always assures you and that feeling goes away.

Sanzu’s there. You’re together, you’re both invincible.

After a few minutes, your crew arrived at the bank.

It was an easy job; you always succeed in getting the money not until someone fucks up.

“Fuck! Fuck!” Sanzu shouts, his fingers tightly intertwined with yours as you both run while holding two big guns casually as if you aren’t outside in a public space where people see you both. “Come on, baby! Come on!”

“Shit!” you shouted and kicked your heels, not minding the rough concrete that would probably wound your soles later on. You didn’t care because you and Sanzu were both running for your life.

“Now!”

You both stopped and turned around, guns pointing at the police cars as you fire at them non-stop until you shot their tires. The people around ran and screamed; it was all you hear. The screams and the gunshots.

You two started to run again, it was supposed to be a smooth job. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“Put down your weapons and get down on the ground!”

“Come on, we can do this. Come on.” you heard Sanzu say.

You can, right? You’ll succeed this. This is just one of your capriciously dangerous adventures. You can surpass this because you’re you and he’s him.

And together you’re both powerful, right?

Sanzu stopped and turned a bit, shooting one of the officers on his stomach. You both looked at each other briefly with a smile.

“Freeze!”

“Stop or we’ll shoot!”

“Stop where you are!”

“Fuckers! Why would we do that?! Stupid idiots!” you shouted and turned to take a shot at them. You heard your boyfriend snickered and pulled you to turn to a street, where a man was about to enter his car not until Sanzu points a gun on his head, surrendering his ride to the two of you.

“This is fucking crazy.” you panted as you look back, “Fuck, how are they still following us?”

Sanzu simply shrugged his shoulder and focuses on driving to get you both out of there and probably kill the one who fucked this job up afterwards, if that person isn’t dead yet, and he hopes he isn’t so he could put bullet holes in his dumb as fuck head.

That is the other thing on Sanzu’s mind but of course, the top priority was to get you out of harm’s way.

“Fuck! Shoot at them, you can do it.”

You took a deep breath before opening the windows and positioning yourself, shooting at the police cars but it was so damn hard because you were moving. You can’t exactly tell your boyfriend to stop because you’ll both be caught.

“What the fuck!” you yelled angrily as you change your clip, “Fucking assholes, can’t fucking die! Die!”

This isn’t a laughing matter but Sanzu was laughing his ass off because of your break down. “Come on, baby! Kill them.”

“Fuck you Haruchiyo, laugh and I’ll shoot your fucking head.” you told him. You heard Sanzu scoff and pointed his pistol at your head with his one hand on the wheel, eyes still focused on the road.

“Go on.”

You didn’t even flinch because this isn’t the first time that Sanzu pointed a gun on your head. You’re used to this already. You laughed and did the same, “Fuck, we’ll kill each other now?”

“Not if I kill you first.”

“Oh, come on, babe. Can you really live without me, hm?” you said as you gently caress his head with tip of your gun. All you got from him was a grunt as he settles his gun down.

You giggled; you both had the time to tease each other when you’re both on the run and there’s literally bullets firing at your car.

You’re both perfectly insane.

“Fucking shoot at them and stop playing me.”

You laughed and gave the scar on the side of his lips a small kiss, “Okay. I love you, Haru.”

He glanced at you for a bit, “Don’t die.”

You smirked before getting yourself ready to shoot at the cops again. Almost all your upper body was out of the window— guns firing at every single one who’s trying to ruin your life with your Haru, “I won’t! I’ll stay forever, remember-“

It was three- no, five shots were all it took for Sanzu to stop the car and pull you in his arms. No, because you were just teasing him seconds ago and now, you’re all bloody and getting cold.

His surroundings suddenly became silent. There were no guns firing at your direction. All that he could hear was your tattered breathing.

“No! Fuck!”

Sanzu’s hand shake as he tries to wipe off the blood that you were coughing out. He gently taps your face to keep you from closing your eyes, “Hey, baby. No, don’t sleep, hm? We’ll get you out of here...”

If the only thing that’ll keep you alive is to surrender then he would.

“Fuck, I said do not close your eyes!”

You smiled faintly, seeing tears falling from Sanzu’s eyes was new to you. You have never seen him like this and it hurts seeing him fall apart than the bullets pierced to your body.

Don’t cry.

You wanted to speak but every second was getting hard for you to breathe.

Haru, don’t cry. I hate seeing you like this.

“I love you. I love you so much. I love you so freaking much. Don’t leave, okay? Please.” he rested his forehead on yours, silently crying as he holds your hand. “Don’t leave me, baby.”

I love you, Haruchiyo.

Sanzu takes a deep breath and gently places your cold body on the seat next to him, cupping your cheeks and giving your forehead a kiss. With dark eyes, he loaded the sub-machine gun and opens the car door— knowing that there are cops waiting for him to do his next move.

If he loses you, he would lose it.

And he did.

With a big manic smile, he gets out and shoots every single one of them— showing no mercy. They killed you. The only woman who he loved the most. The only woman who holds the key to his heart.

He knows how this will end— a shot close to his heart.

He smiles as he tries to open his eye, face down as his blood was gushing out of him, looking at your angelic face through the car door. He always thought that it was ironic, you have the most angelic face but have the most diabolic personality.

And he loved all that, he loved all of you just as much as you loved all of him.

You both loved each other until your last breaths.

Forever, right?

[kazuluvs]

CAN'T YOU HEAR IT? | manjiro sano x reader

+ EXCERPT: so for hours, he simply takes you in. observes the steady rise and fall of your chest. retraces your sleeping features over and over, revising the material he already knows by heart. strains his ears to hear your peaceful breathing; your indistinct mumbles and soft snores. eyes the curve of your body and remembers how your skin looks underneath the cheap fabric of your clothes.

with the moonlight as his only witness, he sits, and looks on.

+ TAGS: gn reader, stalker mikey, heavy stalking, no nsfw, bonten mikey but he has black hair (still short), he likes watching you sleep, one single mention of reader rolling a blunt, you like vanilla scents and he analyzes that, pretty tame tbh || dark content, minors & ageless blogs DNI.

+ WC: 2.1k+

+ A/N: idk what this is!!! i tried a different writing style to go for a more creepy vibe but i think it just made it dull. crying screaming and punching the wall. may have a part two with a conclusion if i get the motivation. as always feedback and rbs are always appreciated <3

Hitting a switch, the single lightbulb in your living room flickers on to illuminate the cramped space. You drop your bag to the floor with a heavy thud and make your way to the ragged couch shoved to the side of the room.

The dull throbbing of your head lessens at the quiet in your apartment. A sigh leaves you when you open the window above the sofa, the cool night air greeting your exhausted senses. Flopping onto the uncomfortable seat, you bury yourself in the sinking of the cushions and hope you won't wake up tomorrow. The work waiting for you is daunting.

With your eyes closed and your mind halfway to sleep, you miss the faint creak of metal coming from the fire escape.

Fifteen minutes elapse. You're passed out on the couch, unaware of anything but the darkness behind your eyelids.

A hand slinks up to rest on the broad window sill. It halts for a moment, like it’s waiting for something. When nothing greets it, another set of slender fingers slither up to join it.

They reach up to the glass. Carefully, they push upwards, and the window opens wider. Experience lacing its movements, they keep sliding the glass overhead. For minutes, there are no sounds except for your deep breathing and the city living miles away from you.

Eventually, when the window comes to a stop, there’s a sizeable gap to the outside world in your living room.

The hands pull back to the edge of the rotten wood. They pause again, for exactly a minute, before tightening their hold and flexing.

Toned arms come into view, lifting a compact torso up to the side of the sill. Legs silently plant themselves on the wood, and a head ducks under the glass.

Short black hair is barely visible under a dark hoodie, his dim, half-lidded eyes blinking intensely at your form. His face rests impassively except for the minute curve on his chapped lips. It might’ve been the shadow of a smile on somebody else.

Mikey settles quietly onto the sill, the old wood precariously holding up under his weight. Pulling out a sucker from the pocket of his hoodie, he soundlessly unwraps the plastic.

(He’d taken off the original wrapper before his visit and replaced it with cling film. The former made too much noise the first time; he’s learned from his mistakes.)

He pops it into his mouth, tongue curling around the red sweet, and lowers his gaze down to your sleeping body.

The atmosphere is quiescent, still, and he does nothing to change it. He doesn’t dare lay a finger on you, for fear of ruining this image of you at your most perfect; vulnerable and innocent—trusting him to see you unguarded and as natural as the day you were born.

He would rather tear himself apart than taint that trust with the poison dripping off the tips of his fingers.

So for hours, he simply takes you in. Observes the steady rise and fall of your chest. Retraces your sleeping features over and over, revising the material he already knows by heart. Strains his ears to hear your peaceful breathing; your indistinct mumbles and soft snores. Eyes the curve of your body and remembers how your skin looks underneath the cheap fabric of your clothes.

With the moonlight as his only witness, he sits, and looks on.

An envelope greets you one early morning.

It’s small. Beige with no address, thrown on the ground in front of your door.

You have twenty minutes before your shift begins. The walk to the store is ten minutes. Bending down to pick it up, you miss the eyes that follow your movement. You grab it, straighten up, and go back inside your apartment, snapping the door shut.

Something jingles inside. It feels small and wired through the thin paper.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you run through possibilities of what it could be—and who would have sent it. You’re on top of your rent, as far as you’re aware (and your landlord has no issues letting you personally know if you’re not). You haven’t shopped online recently (you don’t remember the last time you did), and your friends don’t have anything of yours to return.

Ripping the paper open, you tilt the envelope, and a thin bracelet drops onto your palm.

For a moment, you’re confused. Then you turn the bracelet over, and freeze.

It’s nothing to marvel at. A simple chain of metal painted gold with a leaf charm hanging off of it. It’s old, and you’d thrifted it for a dollar months ago. Rust coats the surface of some of the chain links, indicative of the frequency it was worn on your wrist.

Up until you lost it last week.

It was on a night after your usual closing shift. You were making your way home through the dim streetlights, and didn’t notice the missing weight on your wrist until you’d stepped into your apartment. It hadn’t really bothered you too much; it was cheap and you’d find another one at a later date. You were more concerned with what you would have to eat for dinner that night.

It seems this stranger thought differently.

You swallow around the lump in your throat, chewing on the inside of your cheek. Flipping over the envelope, you scan the paper for anything that could tell you about the sender. Nothing new meets your eyes.

A quick glance down at your watch lets you know that another two minutes and you’d be late for your shift. Resolving to think about it when you’re free, you place the bracelet on your kitchen counter and reopen the apartment door to step outside. Locking your door, you cast quick glances in both directions of your floor’s hallway. It’s seemingly empty except for you.

You shake your head, exhale, and swiftly walk towards the elevator.

Pitch black pupils stare after you.

The moon is hiding that night.

There’s nothing to illuminate the darkness flooding your quiet room. The bedroom door is shut, your window left open to let in the night’s soft chill. Your covers are pulled up to your chin, and your breathing is loud in your ears.

Your feet shift under the blanket, your throat bobbing slowly with a swallow. Your eyes scan the vast space in front of you, attempting to identify something, but to no avail. The dark makes your vision hazy.

You’d been woken up by seemingly nothing. One minute, you were staring into the back of your eyelids, and the next, you’d been looking up at your empty ceiling.

You didn’t startle. Didn’t think much of anything at all. You’d just turned over to your side, and tried to fall back asleep.

And then, you felt it.

Through the cloudy fog of exhaustion, you'd registered something different in your room. A change of pressure in your gut. A weighted feeling on your back. Goosebumps rising on the skin of your nape.

You’d slid your eyes open again, eyebrows furrowed, ears strained for an unknown sound. Moments had passed without a single noise, like the streets outside were anxiously waiting with you.

Then, a rustle.

Your shoulders had tensed. Fabric, you'd thought. Maybe a shirt slipping off of your hanger. Stray pieces of paper shuffling because of the wind. A foot shifting on your carpeted floor.

That was ten minutes ago. Since then, you've forced your senses to sharpen just a little more, but there hasn't been any other indication of trouble, aside from the uncomfortable twist in your gut—that hasn't subsided yet.

A sigh leaves you. You’re probably just tired. It wouldn’t be the first time you made something out of nothing in your exhaustion.

(Meanwhile, your envelope sits forgotten on your kitchen counter.)

You shut your eyes and even your breaths out, relaxing into your mattress. You’re determined to get more sleep.

Twenty minutes pass. You’ve successfully put your anxieties to rest and drifted back into a deep slumber, one you won’t wake up from until your eight am alarm goes off.

And curled up in the corner of your bedroom, Mikey breathes in the familiar scent of your room, counting down the minutes until the sun rises.

The shadow’s been following you for a while.

It’s not yours. You don’t know whose it is. All you’re aware of is that it’s been thirty minutes, you’ve walked past your apartment building, and the unfamiliar shadow hasn’t left you yet.

There aren’t any sounds either. No footsteps. No coughing. No talking. At dusk, the streets are quiet next to you and so is whatever’s behind you. You’re starting to think maybe you’ve imagined the dark shade trailing you.

It's been exactly a week after you've received the bracelet, and you think maybe you shouldn't have brushed it off as easily as you did. You got busy, trying to make ends meet. But maybe this is connected.

There’s a chance they've done this before. An uncomfortably high one. You wouldn't have noticed it. Most of your shifts take place at night, and with how utterly silent they're being, you don't doubt they could've followed you and found out your address.

You really shouldn't have brushed it off as easily as you did.

Relying on muscle memory, your feet take you to an old park you’ve revisited many times. Children don’t play in it anymore; they tend to prefer the newer, shinier one built five minutes away. Human nature, you supposed.

A lonely swing seems to be your body’s destination. It’s familiar, memories of countless nights spent sitting there, looking up at the sky and rolling a blunt flashing through your mind. They leave just as quickly as they appear, your brain instead attempting to think of what to do once you inevitably turn around to face whoever it is behind you.

You meet the swing faster than you'd anticipated. The sound of your throat swallowing is loud in your ears, and you’re convinced that the person following you can hear your heartbeat racing.

A minute of hesitation stops you in front of the childish structure. Should you turn around? Do you really want to face this stranger? What if they have a weapon? Your fingers discreetly slip into your jacket’s pocket and curl around one of your sharper and longer keys. You’re not sure how helpful it’s gonna be, but it might be worth something.

Your eyes squeeze shut for a second, a single moment as you try to gather your courage. The air is still around you, but your hair rustles softly as you take in a deep breath.

Exhaling, you open your eyes and tighten the hold on your key. In a second, you’re whipping around and brandishing the sharp end in front of you—

—only to slice across empty air.

The rest of the park greets you, silent and void of anyone. Your eyes frantically scan the place, only to meet the same view you always see.

They’re gone.

Your body hunches over, a shaking breath leaving your lips. Your throat is dry, but you try to swallow anyway.

Maybe you really did imagine it all.

It takes you a few minutes, as you’re straightening up and pocketing your keys, to realize that you haven’t felt a breeze blow through this entire time.

Perhaps the move was a bit risky, but his body had moved before he realized it. At least now, he has a confirmation.

You smell sweet.

He knew from your shampoo that it was supposed to smell like strawberries and vanilla, but he thinks it’s more of a cherry scent. He liked your last one, honey and vanilla, a little better. Mikey’s sure you’d agree.

Either way, he’s now got another fact about you under his belt. You’re partial to scents containing vanilla. A simple, yet no less pleasing, smell. Not too harsh or overwhelming on the senses. Easy to combine with other things. Generally liked by most people.

It suits you rather well.

“Hey, you listenin’?”

Mikey pulls himself out of his mind and focuses back to the men around him. Bonten’s authority figures are eyeing him with a curious look, but he turns his attention to the one who’d called him.

“I should have you shot for that,” he replies, his voice quiet but clear. Powerful. “Is that any way to speak to your leader?”

Ran grins, ignoring the sharp look his brother gives him and the snarl on Sanzu’s face. “My bad, just wanted to make sure you were still with us.”

Mikey doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t need to. His eyes stare directly into the purple haired man’s, heavy with meaning. At this, Ran’s grin falters the tiniest bit, and everyone can tell he's reconsidering his choice of actions.

The air is tense when Ran finally breaks eye-contact and clears his throat, tilting his head slightly downwards.

Mikey slowly blinks, before turning back to the table at large.

“Continue.”

Takeomi carefully resumes speaking, but in the back of Mikey’s mind, he’s preparing for his next visit to you.

[kaiowut99]

Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters GX Episodes 113 & 114 Subbed (Finalized)

(Previously: Episodes 111-112 Subbed [Finalized])

(Check out my Subbed!GX Stream Masterpost!)

TURN-113: Judai VS the Traitorous Elemental Heroes

Because of the large amount of wounded due to the Dis-Duels, and their being convinced that Professor Cobra has something to do with it, Judai and the others head towards the SAL research lab where Cobra is hiding out. Finding an elevator that leads underground, they advance on to the lower levels of the SAL lab, deciding to split into two groups there to find Cobra. Along the way, Judai comes across Professor Satou, who tells him, "Unless you defeat me, this door to where Cobra is will not open." Judai then duels with Satou. The Scab Scarknight that Satou summons is a Monster that brings Monsters that attack him to his side--so, with his Burstlady attacking him, Judai...

TURN-114: A Desperate Situation! The Battered Hero

With Burstlady and Air Hummingbird now on his side through his Scab Scarknight's effect, Satou wages attacks against Judai. For his part, Judai Fusion-Summons Sailorman and wages a direct attack against Satou. Cobra, watching the battle through his monitor, informs Judai of the trap he set for this duel--that trap being taking Asuka hostage and increasing the water level in the room she is locked in with every attack Satou takes. With Judai unable to attack, Satou wages merciless attacks against him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Semi-slight delay on these aside--hoped to get these wrapped up last week prior to my birthday on Wednesday lol--episodes 113 and 114 are now finalized!

Come for the crocodiles taking on wild tigers, stay for the introspection Satou spurs within Judai as their duel goes on as he confronts him for the lethargic attitude he's spread among the students due to being unaware of the great power he has as the Academia's hero, and enlightens him about the responsibility he bears and the lack of darkness in his heart. This duel and the "darkness of the heart" bit/"what do I duel for?" question are the start of the thread that runs through the rest of Season 3, and it's always fun to revisit these in hindsight, knowing what comes later (and why it causes pain seeing how the dub handled this). We also have everyone splitting up to find Cobra while Amon sneaks around to get close to Cobra and a certain card.

And almost as if foreshadowing the change in tone and Judai's character arc this season, we have an updated Teardrop opening! This V2 changes the shots of Judai looking more somber--in his shots with Johan, the Academia, and his friends at the end--to having him looking more confident but also determined. It's more subtle compared to the updates V3 will give us later, but interesting.

Also, fun to note that Satou's VA, Mitsuru Miyamoto, gets brought back in ZEXAL to play the real Don Thousand; that was neat to learn as I finished ZEXAL for the first time recently, lol. And speaking of VAs, wanted to make a quick shoutout to Taiki (Tatsuya) Matsuno, Manjoume's VA, who passed away too early a few weeks ago at 56; as I mentioned here, Manjoume wouldn't be one of my fave YGO characters without the life he brought to the role, and I hope he's making 'em feel the thunder up there somewhere.

(Quick Translation Note: Early in the episode, as Amon talks with his commandant in the submarine [Echo], she sends him a bio on O'Brien which highlights his involvement with Cobra; though it's a quick shot, lasting 64 frames/2-3 seconds, I went and translated the bio for the hardsub, as highlighted here. Shoutout to Zichs over on NAC, who provided me with a clearer shot of the text in the bio from the DVD itself than the Astral_Union raw I worked with, allowing me to identify more of the Japanese text.)

Animation error-wise, there were about 30 fixes I worked on throughout both episodes, with the bulk of them in 113, ranging from smaller quality-of-watching things like split-screen timings to card errors (including a big one in 114) to the ol' forgotten Burstlady outfit shoulder strap. Given the amount of fixes worked on, I'll go through the usual edit breakdown in this separate post for the interested!

Quick housekeeping: I made a quick revision to 110 and 111 again to just update the one line Cobra has referring to the being he's collecting Duel Energy for, correcting "it" to "them" as I had him use in 113. The 110 and 111 links in their respective release posts now link to the re-uploaded versions, as do their links in the Masterpost; the re-finalized hardsub/script/MKVs have been posted on NAC along with these.

Anywho, enjoy! After a little detour back into TFSP land for a bit (and enjoying a little bday vacation time), we'll have episodes 115 and 116 next, as Johan deals with a Spirit Hunter and we get some lore about him. Also hoping to work on the three-part Judai vs Cobra together after that. Stay tuned!

[boochanz]

or just take the support in whatever form you receive it and don’t be ungrateful.

hi anon ! I took some time before replying to this to collect my thoughts but here we are :D

so for me this is very deliberate wording. immediately jumping to ungrateful because I think posts should be reblogged is pretty ridiculous imho! so id like to break it down for you

i used to make moodboards and icon / header packs! some of my most popular posts from that time have 523 and 401 notes respectively. out of these 532 notes, 28 were reblogs, 494 were likes and one was a reply. and out of the 401 notes 36 were reblogs and 365 were likes. some of those posts have as few as 4 reblogs. this is extremely frustrating because it means my content was enjoyed but not deemed worthy of spreading. i would see it used on twitter and on discord or even reposted without credit because the time I took to compile it was never taken into account. it was always brushed off as 'easy to do' and as such simply not worthy of proper engagement.

when a post is reblogged, it is boosted to other blogs and as such to the dash of people who follow that blog. that's new, fresh engagement and new exposure, every time. that engagement is also going to push your post up in the search results, but unfortunately, most of the time people are not going to go searching for posts to like/rb and instead they will reblog what is already on their dash. this is why that engagement is so important for content creators of all kinds.

it is nice to receive likes, yes. and I will happily admit that since getting into a new type of content creation, my reblogs are not that bad but I am typically receiving double what I receive in reblogs in likes alone. having nearly 600 notes for not even a third of them to be reblogs can be frustrating because i know that my content is not receiving as much new exposure as it could. I do this to have fun, not to be famous on Tumblr of all sites but I have to admit that it feels wonderful for people to engage with my content and appreciate it.

likes are awesome !! they really are !!! but ultimately they do not really help content creators gain or maintain any type of footing in the community. especially not because a lot of people have their likes hidden. if I receive 200 likes on a post, 100 of those people will have their likes hidden and that's being stingy with the numbers tbh!. out of those 100 people with visible likes, maybe 5 or so people will go through their likes at any given time and if they're an avid user of Tumblr, that has to be done pretty quickly for them to see my post. chances are they don't engage with it, meaning that even though it adds to my numbers and its a nice gesture... it's essentially pointless.

on the flip side, if I get 100 reblogs and each of those blogs has, on average, 5 active followers; that's a shit ton of blogs I am suddenly visible to. not all of them will choose to interact with me or my content and that's okay because it still gives me visibility and that is extremely important.

personally, I like and reblog. if I haven't reblogged something, I queue it. but honestly , if I had to choose the way people engage with my posts I would rather them just rb if they're going to choose one! it helps me massively and I am ever grateful for the people who rb my posts because I immediately see the engagement from their following whereas I gain little to no fresh engagement from reblogs alone.

ccs; writers, gif makers, gfx artists, etc etc etc all spend a ridiculous amount of time doing what we love to do, and no, we are not entitled to anything from anyone but to say that if you enjoy our content and benefit off of it (if you're using it as an icon somewhere else, or saving it onto your phone to be your wallpaper, or showing your friends, or getting the feels from it because that fanfic was just so <333333 then you're benefitting from it!) ... then you can give us a boost. especially if you are consistently enjoying our content.

the bottom line is that the reblog system keeps this site going. if we keep going down this path then all of these content creators you know and love are going to get frustrated and leave when the only form of engagement truly benefitting them dwindles even further. and I can't say I blame them because ill be right there with them

[sat0sugu-angst]

Katsuki & Kinks pt. 4 Pain & Marks

a/n: I'll be uploading drabbles/headcanons Monday's during the month of October 😈 You can check the masterlist for what kinks i have planned, but if there's one you wanna see that isn't included feel free to send a request :)

If you'd like to be tagged, lmk! I'd be happy to add you to the taglist (you must be over the age of 18 and have your age accessible in your bio)

cw: impact play (spanking), biting, mirror sex, marks (hickeys, bites, bruises), Katsuki shows off his marks bc ofc he would

Minors DNI

Pain

I think it's just his personality, no? This man wants to feel pain, and if you ask he's more than happy to oblige

Especially loves to spank and bite, and he loves when it's reciprocated.

When your nails rake across his biceps or back, he lives for it, that sting heightens all of his senses and he feels pure ecstasy.

Srsly just goes straight to his dick he's so obsessed w you in that moment that he sets up a mirror in the room so he can see it when he's hitting it from behind and periodically spanking you (also doesn't mind how your ass jiggles when he does it lol)

Loves how sweet your face looks when he smacks your ass

I know he was the first one to bring biting into the bedroom, but more often than not he wants to be the one getting bit.

Especially on his neck. Especially as he's coming.

Marks

Looooooves marks no one can convince me otherwise

When he sees the scratches on his back or his arms he gets a sick sense of satisfaction because yea of course he fucks you that good

Doesn't care about hiding his marks, but he thinks it's super cute if you get shy about visible bite marks and hickeys

Likes leaving them in places no one but you two can see, especially when he can tug a little on your shirt or your shorts to expose it in front of people (he won't, of course, but I said he was a sadist for a reason)

When it's just you two he likes to trace over your marks, because he likes the way your eyes flutter closed, like your remembering him giving them to you with perfect recall and it makes him wanna take you back to the bedroom and give you more

an: thanks so much for reading! Comments/rbs/❤️ are always appreciated 🥰

taglist: @asmaechan @animexholic @justanothernpcartist

series masterlist

masterlist

[princesshalfdemon]

anyways if it seems like i’ve been thinking about religion more based on some of my points

a few months ago there was a really bad tornado warning. i’ve lived in chicago my whole life. i go through 3-4 tornado warnings every year. one time when i was little (and now this COULD have been a dream or something bc i don’t remember details) i think ia ctually did see a tornado.

a really bad tornado warning happened while i was at work at the clinic. let me be clear: we do  not have basements in the clinic, and it go so bad so quick there was no way to feasibly safely get anywhere else. i was fucking terrified. on discord i literally. sent several messages to those very close of me because i genuinely, sincerely though that was... a really good chance at being it. if a tornado actually had hit the clinic directly? realistically? that’s game over. clocking out. it wasn’t a long life but i could say it was a good one.

nothing happened and it was the biggest sigh of relief i ever had but it DID have me questioning my religious beliefs. i’ve always been agnostic- i don’t know if there’s one God, a million gods, or none- but i think there’s... something in us that lives after death. something that can’t be explained by science. i think there’s too much things in the world that can’t be explained by science for that to be the case. and i also accept i could be wrong and that’s clocks out.

i had thought about going to church again. i then learned my childhood church was a mega church and the pastor might’ve tried to hire a hitman. i THEN learned that very close by there’s this really nice pro LGBT methodist church. a church i drive by almost every day that’s always flying an LGBT (and now ukranian) flag visibly. and i went ot their website... and it looked really nice. i really thought about going that weekend. i chose not to. saturday is one of my only days i can really spend the night with my friends... that’s important to me. marston actually showed me this one really cool pro lgbt preacher on youtube who’s content i might watch but

idk

i’m some kind of agnostic heavily leaning on Christian. idk what i’ll be in the future. i can say that i don’t intend for that to be a very consistent thing. like, i’m an anime blogger mostly that rbs anime titties. worst case scenario, maybe i follow a few more religious blogs i trust and occasionally rb something inbetween. i’m nmto changing my things entire content fo rthis...

just

you know. it’s something important to me, you know? something that events in my life (most notably being a near-death experience) are making me consider re-exploring. either nothing changes, or i can have a bit more peace of mind about my life and religion in general is all. it’s my blog and i don’t... appreciate asks like that about an aspect of my life i’m exploring again. ty for understanding

[harryhandstan]

washed away in you

I don’t have much to say except I appreciate your patience with me as I worked on this piece! I apologize again for all the confusion with posting and deleting and now reposting. This is the third part to my Dad!Harry series. Once again you don’t have to read those to understand this one, but I’ve linked them below in case you would like to revisit them. :)

Thank you to @taintedwonder for reading over part of this for me!

word count: 4.2k

needles tw // (small mention towards the end)

I Want Your Belly (part one) | Wonderful and Warm (part two) | writing tag | masterlist

y’all have already been so good to me but as always likes, rbs, and comments are welcome!!

//

Of all the weeks to be put on bed rest, it had to be the week that Harry started filming for his new movie role.

Technically you were on modified bed rest, which meant resting as much as possible but still moving around as necessary, but the phrase terrified Harry enough that he was doing whatever he could to keep you still. It hadn’t been an easy task, you were in your 8th month of pregnancy, quickly approaching your due date, and there still seemed to be a mountain of important things to get done before your son’s arrival.

It had only been two days since you’d started having what you thought were contractions. It had forced you and Harry to realize just how unprepared the two of you were when you had to rush out of the house at 2 a.m. with nothing packed for what could possibly be the night of your child’s appearance into the world. Just the two of you with disheveled hair and rumpled pajamas under the harsh lighting of the ER exam room. 8 hours of tests and scans and a visit from your doctor later, you returned home to fall back in bed and catch up on the sleep you had missed.

“Listen you’re both new to all this..I get it. But you’re putting too much stress on your body and that’s what caused this tonight. I know it’s hard but, take a week, relax, bed rest as much as possible. I’ll see you in my office again in a few days just to make sure everything is progressing along like we want. If there’s still too much stress on the baby, we may have to push your due date up a little earlier. But we don’t want to do that if we can avoid it.”

Currently you were in the nursery, where most of the last minute things to do remained. You were standing at the changing table, folding a set of onesies to be put away. Harry had been urging you for the past 10 minutes to sit down.

“Harry, I have been in bed all night, or as much of it as your son allowed me to be without kicking me in the ribs or pressing on my bladder. I just wanna get these folded and put away and I’ll be done.”

“Well you can at least sit while y’doing them. Or, let me finish ‘em.” His hands fall on your shoulders, gently guiding you towards the rocking chair in the corner. You gesture for him to bring the basket closer, “And why is he only my son when he’s causing you trouble?”

“Maybe cause it was your birthday treat that got us into this mess. Or because he already likes to tease us so much. Besides, you can’t do them, I have a system.”

“Yeah, a birthday treat planned by you. And I know the system, you showed me two days ago.”

“You knew the system, we changed it.”

“We? I’ve barely been home how’ve we..”

“I may have called your Mum again.” You shrug, propping your feet up on the small ottoman positioned in front of the chair, “She and I agreed it’s better this way.”

“You didn’t think it was important to notify me of this system you and y’new bestie have thought up?” He’s turned to lean his back against the changing table, arms folded across his chest. As much as he wants to be upset, he’s over the moon that you and Anne have become so much closer over the past few months. Between his mom and yours, plus your sister and his, he was thrilled to see you had so much support for days when he couldn’t be there. Anne had offered to fly out to spend the week with you, as did your mom, but you put them both off, promising you would need them more the few weeks after the birth.

“Been a little busy growing a human here, Harry. May have slipped my mind. I would’ve gotten around to it eventually.”

“Right, you can just tell me where everything goes then.” He’s already worked his way through folding the last of the pile, smiling proudly at you as you lean your head back and close your eyes, sinking further into the chair.

“Socks in the second drawer to the left, hats in the middle. If the onesies are newborn sized, they go to the right. Anything bigger than that gets tucked in the baskets by size there in the middle shelf of the closet, if you can find room.”

Between the two of your families and your group of mutual friends, you’d been given 4 baby showers over the past few months, combining with the items you and Harry had supplied for yourselves. People had been more than generous in helping stock the nursery for your little one.

“All done. How ‘bout some breakfast now?”

“You don’t have time. You have to be on set in less than an hour. I’ll make myself something in a bit. I may go back to sleep for a while, just got up to see you off and wanted to put those things away.”

“Always have time for you, angel,” He offers his hand to help you lift yourself up, “Maybe a smoothie?”

“Alright, if I let you make me a smoothie, will you take yours to go? Don’t want you to be late because of me.”

“Deal. But only if you let me tuck you back into bed before I go.”

“Deal.” You lean up slightly to accept the sweet kiss he offers before shuffling off to the kitchen together.

//

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve decided. You’re not allowed to look.”

You knew he wasn’t listening, trying to maybe, but not really. He sits across the room at the desk in the corner of your bedroom, glasses perched on the end of his nose, guitar in his lap, journal open in front of him. He’s in writing mode, something that usually takes you at least 30 minutes to coax him from and convince him to come to bed. Not that you ever wanted to interrupt his process, but tonight you’re feeling anxious about your impending delivery, dread slowing working its way through your body. 

It had been only a few days since your follow up appointment with your doctor. She had deemed you fit to come off bed rest, but urged you to continue to try to keep your stress level to a minimum as much as possible. Easier said than done, but you were finding small ways to relax yourself when you could; meditation, music, reading. But tonight you just wanted Harry for reassurance.

In your nightly scroll through one of your recent favorite mom-to-be blogs, you had come across an article on the difficulty of delivery. You appreciated moms who were brave enough to share their stories online and this person in particular had included a video. Despite your anxiety, you clicked to watch, curiosity overriding any fear rising in your chest. 

When he finally puts away the guitar and the journal and sheds his soft purple robe to swim up the bed to settle next to you, he asks, “Were y’sayin’ something earlier, m’love? Got lost there for a bit, m’sorry.”

His writing sessions were normally done in his office or the studio, but the past few weeks he’d preferred to do them here. Liked the idea of you trying to softly hum along to a new tune he was working through, occasionally offering your opinions about what you liked or didn’t. It was rare that you disliked anything, but he liked that you didn’t shy away from being honest with him. His favorite though? The sight of you, an open book, hand always resting on the side of your belly while you read. It was just as much a comfort for him to be near you these days as it was for you.

“Yeah. I’ve decided. You’re not allowed to look when I deliver this baby.”

His head rests on your thigh, only the side of his face visible as he looks up at you, but it’s enough to see the disappointment flash before he composes himself, not wanting to upset you.

“Alright. What d’you mean by that? Like..you don’t want me in the room or..”

“No, no, I want you in the room, that was never a question. You’re just not allowed to look when I’m pushing. I watched a video and I’m traumatized and I just..”

He sits up quickly, “You watched a birthing video? Without me?”

“Yeah, earlier when you were zoned out. You’ve never seen one?”

“Never been curious enough to watch one ‘til now. Not ‘til I thought of you having our babe. Show me the one you watched?”

You’re hesitant. Truly you’re touched he’s so curious and wants to share this experience with you, but right now the thought of him seeing your body change like that is scary. He senses your unease, almost reads your mind; he knows you so well.

“Babe, s’your body. If you really don’t want me t’look, then I won’t. Just..at least show me what you watched so I can see for myself what it’s like, what you’ll go through. S’all m’askin’ for now.”

“Okay, fine,” You pat the bed next to you and he scurries up to sit, his head on your shoulder while you navigate through your browser history to find the video. You start it, but your eyes stay focused on his face.

“Y’not gonna watch it again with me?”

“No,” You drape your arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer so you can rest your head on top of his, “I’d rather watch your reactions this time around.”

You’re curious to see how he reacts to certain parts; his little gasps and winces as the video progresses. When it ends, you’re not surprised to see tears have fallen down his face and made a small wet spot on the front of his t-shirt.

“Harry, you’re not upset with me, are you?”

“‘Course not, meant what I said earlier. If you really don’t want me t’look, then I won’t..but I don’t want you to think I’ll look at you any differently after. You’re givin’ me one of the greatest gifts anyone ever has, if anything I love you more than I ever thought I could. And that’s only gonna grow once our boy’s here.”

You run your hands through his hair, not sure what to say. You’ve never had a love this big, one that envelops you so fully. The past few months have shown you just how deeply he cares for you, and just how much your own heart could stretch to fill with your overwhelming love for Harry and now the baby growing inside you.      

He doesn’t take offense to your silence, just stills your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing each of your fingertips. He slumps further down the bed, head level with your stomach. He pokes it softly through your shirt. He doesn’t even have to ask anymore, you know what he wants and you’re glad to give in to him. You scoot down to rest your head on your pillow, pulling your shirt up and tucking the fabric under your breasts.

Instantly his head rests on your tummy, a hand reaching around to lay there on the other side of it, wrapping himself around you. You reach over and turn the lamp on your bedside table off, sleep drifting it’s way through your body and mind. You let one hand fall to his back, the other one joining his arm to wrap protectively around your belly.

“Harry?”

“Hmm?” 

“You can look. If you want.”

“Y’don’t have to decide tonight. We still have a little time to plan.”

“No. I don’t want to take any of this experience from you. The whole thing’s just a bit scary though.”

“I know it is, m’terrified too. But everything’s gonna be alright. I’m gonna be there for every second of it.” 

“I know you are. You’re the only thing that’s kept me sane through all this. You’ve been so good to me, H. Putting up with all my mood swings and late night cravings and whatever I needed.” 

“I haven’t had to ‘put up’ with anything. Just want to make you and bub as happy as y’both already make me.” He turns to kiss the side of your stomach before looking up at you, “Comfy? Am I squishin’ you?”

“No, it’s nice. Don’t see how you can be comfy though.” 

“I’ll move to my pillow in a bit. Just like being close to you and bub,” He yawns, “Goodnight, babe. Love you both so much.”

“We love you too, Harry. More than you’ll ever know.”

//  

Sleep had been pretty much non-existent in your third trimester. You were lucky if you got a few hours each night and cat naps throughout the day were rare. 

Tonight is no different. It’s 3 a.m and once you get up for your fifth trip to the bathroom, you know there’s no point in trying to get comfortable again. Harry will be up soon, and as much as he tries to stay quiet during his morning routine, he always found some way to unintentionally wake you. You couldn’t even sleep through his soft kisses to your forehead to say goodbye anymore.

Normally you take yourself down to the living room to find a mindless tv show or movie to carry you through your insomnia, but Harry also seemed to be infected with your curse of being a light sleeper these days. Most nights he would attempt to join you, sweet enough to not want you to be alone, stubborn enough to not listen each time you urged him to go back to bed. He always paid for it the day after though, dark circles under his eyes and nodding off to sleep throughout whatever he had scheduled. 

So in hopes that you wouldn’t wake him by leaving tonight, you reach for the remote to the bedroom tv, muting it so the noise won’t disturb him. You would almost be content enough to stare at him for the rest of the night. The sharp outline of his jaw, freckles scattered across his face that would rival the constellations in the sky, all softened by the moonlight illuminating his face perfectly. As much as you don’t want to wake him, you can’t help but reach out to run the back of your hand over the smooth skin of the man you admire so much. You adore the way even in his sleep he molds to your touch, soft snores and deep, even breaths never stopping as you move up to brush his curls away from his face. 

You almost make it through 20 minutes of a movie before his eyes flutter open. You know how much your false contractions from before weighed on him, alarm is quick to flood his face before he has a chance to take in his surroundings. 

You answer before he has a chance to let worry take over, “It’s alright. We’re okay. Just the usual..couldn’t sleep.”

He rubs his eyes to clear them, “What time s’it?”

“4:30.”

He squints slightly at the movie playing before chuckling, “How many times y’think you’ve watched this one? Know it’s been at least a dozen or so in the last month.”

“It’s my favorite. One of them, anyway. It’s always been soothing to me.”

“Bet you could quote the whole thing by now, even with it muted.”

You glance up at the tv and it only takes a second for you to pinpoint the exact part. You take his comment as a challenge, pushing yourself up out of your nest of pillows to rest your back against the headboard before quoting, “Faith is a bluebird you see from afar. It’s for real, and as sure as the first evening star. You can’t touch it, or buy it, or wrap it up tight. But it’s there just the same, making things turn out right.”

Your voice breaks as you say the last few words. Maybe it’s the combination of exhaustion and all the new fears and hormones running through your mind and body. Nostalgia of watching this when you were younger and now sharing it with your child when they are old enough touches your heart and you can’t stop the tears continuously streaming down your face.

“Baby,” He pushes himself up to rest next to you, tugging you until you're pressed close to his side, “Please don’t cry.”

“M’miserable, Harry. I’m as big as the moon and I can’t breathe and my feet always hurt and I’m just..ready for him to be here. Ready for him to be out so I can hold him and kiss him and put him in his own bed so I can rest in mine again.” 

You know you sound childish and whiny and somewhat ridiculous, but being so sleep deprived means all sense has left and so the words come spilling out, a jumbled mess you doubt he even understood.

“I know you are, love. Hate to see you so upset,” He kisses the top of your head, “Certainly as bright as the moon, but not as big. Your body’s as exactly as it should be. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but that’s only cause you’re tired. He’ll be here soon and we’ll have so many people here to help, yeah?”

All you can do is nod, you know he’s right and you know once you have a nap things won’t feel so overwhelming. You pull yourself away from him to wipe your face on your t-shirt. A smile stretches across your lips as the thought enters your mind, “If I’m as bright as the moon, you’re as golden as the sun.”

“Yeah?” He’s blushing now, looking down at his hands before his eyes dart up to meet yours, “Guess that makes bub our little star, huh?”

You giggle before shrugging, “Guess so.”

“By the way,” His hand rests on your thigh, “We gonna keep calling him bub or we gonna pick a name?” 

“Bub’s cute. Bub Styles.” You wrinkle your nose at the thought, “I just want it to be perfect for him, you know? I feel like I need to see his face before I just blindly pick a name. We could definitely narrow down some options though and see which one suits him best.”

“We’ll think of something special, eh? Somethin’ just f’him.”

“Yeah, we will,” You suck in a sharp intake of breath at a particularly hard kick from within your stomach. Harry’s head snaps to look over your face before looking down to where your hand lays on your belly.

“What’s wrong?” His eyes are wide, on edge as he waits for your answer.

“It’s fine he’s just..ah, being a little rowdy this morning.” You take his hand from your thigh and press it to where the kicks were landing, “Right here. Think that’s his butt, his head’s down here, and..ah, his feet are right about here. Can you feel him?”

His palm lays flat across the front of your belly, “S’amazing, never gets old. Bet it feels so..weird to you though.”

“At first, yeah, but got used to it pretty quickly. It’s comforting now, like he’s saying hello or contributing to our conversations when we talk.”

He puts his mouth almost right against your tummy, so close his breath tickles and you feel the vibrations when he speaks, “Take it easy on mumma, little one. Just a bit longer, yeah? Can’t wait to see ya face. Bet y’so handsome like daddy, just gotta be a lil’ more patient like mummy, alright?” 

“Think maybe he’s ready for his pre-breakfast snack?”

“Dunno..I’ll ask him though,” He bends again, “That why y’bein’ such a brat to mum, huh? Woke her up early cause you were hungry? Alright, daddy’ll make your usual.”

He kisses your stomach, before straightening to where he’s level with your face, “That sound good?”

Your “usual” was a bowl of what had been your biggest craving throughout your pregnancy; fruit. On nights like this when sleeplessness couldn’t be defeated, the two of you normally gave in pretty quickly and had breakfast together. On days when you were able to sleep through Harry’s departure, you would always wake to the bowl already prepared and ready for you. Oftentimes there would be a quickly scribbled note with the words “Love, H” stuck to the top or the side of the bowl, like you didn’t already know who had left it for you.

“You’re spoiling him already, Harry.”

He smacks a quick kiss to your cheek, pulling back just a second before diving back in to peck another one on your other cheek, “Tryin’ to spoil you too, angel.”

//

Contractions, real ones you were sure this time, had started 30 minutes ago. As much as Harry wanted to rush you out of the house in your pajamas, you had insisted on at least 5 minutes to change and pull your hair into a quick ponytail before gathering your bag and dashing down the stairs.

Just as Harry’s hand lands on the doorknob, you tug on the sleeve of his jacket, “Harry, stop for a second.”

“Why? Are you having one now?”

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“This is one of our last moments before we become parents. I want you to slow down, take a deep breath, and kiss me.”

“You’re impossible, you know that? Active labor and you stop me for a kiss.” He rolls his eyes but you can see his shoulders drop, relaxing just enough to press his lips firmly against yours. You reach your hand up and around to the back of his neck, deepening it for a moment before drawing back to scan his face.

“Better?” Your hand continues to work through his hair, happy to watch his face relax slightly at your touch.

“Much. How are you so calm?”

“I don’t know, really. I thought I would be scared, and I am but..I’m ready. So ready to meet him.”

“Me too. Let’s go.” His hand falls to the small of you back, leading you out the door and to the car.

Once you arrive at the hospital, he doesn’t leave your side, not even when the nurse suggests he do so while you get your epidural. She agrees to let him stay, but makes him sit in a chair in front of you and sternly tells him not to look.

He holds both of your hands, squeezing them tightly as an attempt to distract you. He knows how much you hate needles, how the thought of this procedure alone had scared you almost as much as the idea of labor. You release a deep sigh of relief when they announce it’s done, and he helps you settle back into bed, tucking the blanket around you.

“So proud of you, baby. You’re already doing amazing.” 

Things progress much faster than you ever thought they would, and it’s only three hours before you’re ready to push. Harry’s there for every second of it, hand behind your back and small encouragements in your ear when you think you can’t go any further. 

“M’tired, H.” The room is full of people, your doctor and a set of nurses, but his focus stays on you; simply existing together in that moment. Small pieces of hair have come loose from your ponytail, clinging to the sweat now covering your forehead. He sweeps them away before resting his hand on your shoulder.

“I know y’are, lovie, but you’re so so close. Doin’ so incredible,” His smile is so wide, beaming at you when he leans closer, “Y’look gorgeous too, never seen you look more stunning than now.”

That has a laugh bursting from you, still breathless when you reply,  “You’re such a bad liar.”

“M’serious! Know better than to lie to you.” He winks just before working his arm around behind your back again, giving you the motivation you needed to keep going.

It’s not long before you hear what you’re certain is one of the best sounds you’ll ever hear, the sweet sound of your baby boy’s cry as he enters the world.

//

An hour later, both of you are still in awe of your little one, sleeping peaceful now in their dad’s strong arms. Harry’s wedged himself next to you in the hospital bed, long legs stretched in front of him. He keeps looking between where your head is propped on his shoulder and the baby.

He breaks the silence first, “Definitely think he has your hair. S’nice and soft.”

“Think it’ll be darker like yours though. Maybe he’ll have your eyes.” You reach over to run your finger along your baby’s nose.

He looks between you and the baby again, a prideful smile brightening his face. He smushes his lips against your temple, and you close your eyes as the feeling of adoration combined with the  exhaustion of the day washes over you. 

You hear him whisper just as you’re drifting to sleep, “My moon and star, together at last.”

[battlestar-royco]

so i’m really stuck in thoughts about chadwick boseman right now, as you can probably guess, and i thought it might be useful to share those thoughts because they are mainly about what he means to me and the impact i have seen him have on the black community. i’m the youngest of some 17 or 18 cousins on one side of the family, but we’re all united in our media nerdiness. the oldest of them read the asoiaf books and attended the star wars prequels in theaters as they came out in their teenagehood, and others watched anime or merlin or even musicals. regardless, our gatherings always incite deep debates about who would sit the iron throne, whether or not finn would be a jedi, whether tangled was better than frozen. we’ve all had different baggage being black at comic con or being told we couldn’t dress like xyz non-black character (or that we could only dress as the janitor or the comic relief person who died 5 minutes in) and in fandom spaces as a whole. black panther literally changed the game for us.

we planned a road trip to see it. since so many of us were scattered all over the states in college or working, it fell through. but we put it on during one of the holiday dinners the year it came out, and for the record, we put it on the year after that as well. at that point we’d all watched it at least once. i’d personally already seen it three times in theaters, with different groups of people, and i cried at different parts each time. i cried not only at the glorification of wakanda but also simple things that if you haven’t experienced a deprivation of representation, you might not appreciate--like the unprecedented vulnerability we saw in these characters, a brief but searingly accurate look at 90s black aesthetics which reminded me of old pictures of my aunts and uncles, the lighting and color palette which made the actors look beautiful. watching it with my family for the first time was... i truly don’t know if i can put it in words? i guess i’ll say one of them was able to sit his baby on the table in her little chair, and i just remember feeling so elated that she would be able to grow up with this movie that none of us had so young. finally our cultural background and our nerdy passions could collide.

the film even came up in my women’s studies class, around the time chadwick was due to speak at howard university. the women in my class were so excited to livestream his speech, all in the midst of debating black panther’s commentary on colonialism and black women making choices between the state or their family. i’ve also had semi-drunken midnight conversations about his earlier film 42 and its portrayal of black history. so i just want to express how much chadwick boseman’s work has engaged so many people emotionally and mentally even in the relatively short time he was visible to the mainstream. and it will continue to do so for generations.

if any black people want to reblog with their fond memories of chadwick boseman, please feel free. white people can rb but please keep comments to yourself