#my thoughts are disjointed and confusing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fazedlight · 2 months

Text

Awakening (Kara character study, small part supercorp softness)

“But why can’t I be matched to Tali, mom? She’s my best friend!”

Alura turned to Kara, her jaw tensed with frustration with the stubborn child. “Kara, you know better than this. Stable matching can only be achieved if there is a true bijection between disjoint sets-”

“We don’t even have a true bijection because the population is constantly changing, we don’t sort according to all possible preferences, we don’t even have-” “It is not in our nature, Kara,” Alura said, with a dangerous tone in her voice. “We are not Daxamites.”

“But-”

“The answer is no.”

---

Kara is thirteen Earth years the first time she’s called “dyke.” She doesn’t know what it means. She had only been to school for a couple of weeks. Before that, the only substantial English she had spoken was the couple months with Eliza, Jeremiah, Alex, and Kal.

Clark, not Kal. Saying “Kal” would put her baby cousin- her older cousin- her cousin in danger.

Alex’s face flushes, and her eyes almost burn with anger, as she shoves Jake Howell against a locker. Kara could do it easily herself, but showing her newfound strength to humans would put her in danger too, somehow. Kara doesn’t think asshole is a nice word, given how Alex growled it. But she suspects dyke isn’t a nice word either.

That night after dinner, Eliza sighs, and hugs Kara gently - and Kara resolves to never get called dyke again.

---

“She’s gorgeous, she’s smart, she smells nice. Hell, I want to date her.” Kara flushed with discomfort, as the words came unbidden from her lips. But Alex didn’t remark on the odd statement, and Kara shoved the thought away.

Just weeks later, awkwardness would turn to tension as Lucy growled. “You and Hank, why do you all lie?”

“When you are an alien,” Kara choked, “You’re willing to sacrifice anything, everything, betray your fundamental instincts - just to fit in.” Something tugged in Kara’s soul at that moment. That she had always tried to fit in, long before she became an alien. But there simply hadn’t been time to linger.

It was only weeks later, when Lucy was saying her goodbyes before leaving National City to rejoin the military, that Kara felt the uncomfortable spike again. “I do know what it’s like to hide,” Lucy confessed.

Kara tilted her head, questions like why? and what do you mean? floating through her mind. But she thought it would be kinder not to ask. “I hope someday, you can be all that you are.”

Lucy gave a small smile. “Me too.”

---

She hadn’t expected meeting Lena to feel like lightning in her veins. The younger Luthor was quick-witted, and beautiful, and playful. Kara felt herself flush with the gentle teasing during their first coffee, and found herself marveling at never quite having a friendship like this before.

---

“So… so she’s gay?” Kara asked, the word heavy in her throat. “And are you saying, you’re gay too?”

Alex sighed and paced in front of Kara, her frustration just as apparent as her confusion. How can you not know if you’re gay?, Kara wondered, at the same time feeling strangely allergic to the conversation. Wouldn’t it be obvious? “What’s changed?” Kara asked.

---

Yeah, he was… immature. Irresponsible. But they connected - orphans of a lost planet, who spoke the same tongue, who had the same bewilderment in their first moments on an alien planet with newfound powers. And if being in his bed brought her pleasure, it was only proof of their connection, that a good relationship could come of it.

Sometimes there were those flashes - Mon-El had been confused by Alex’s coming out, not understanding the concept. The more the merrier would ring in Kara’s head, and she’d chase away the image of Lena’s face.

---

“I couldn’t have done it, Kara.”

Kara’s chest heaved as she gazed down at Lena, hearing Kal’s words flash through her mind. Lena clung to Kara’s arm as Kara hovered above the reservoir, and some corner of Kara’s mind knew that she should go land, that the danger was over. That Lena was safe. That the city was safe.

But she could only stare down at Lena, whose heart hammered in her chest, whose panting breaths from her climb had not yet slowed. I almost lost her, Kara thought, forlorn. I couldn’t lose her…

It was that moment that her world came crashing down, that realization made her feel like she was drowning. That romantic love wasn’t merely a combination of friendship and lust. That shared experience didn’t mean a shared connection. There was something that ran deeper.

She was in love with Lena, and she could no longer deny it.

---

It was a drunken movie night, after Lena’s breakup with James, when Kara heard I love you fall from Lena's lips.

“It was always you,” Lena confessed, her words slightly slurred from the alcohol as Kara finished pulling the covers over her. “I just wanted to be close to you.”

Kara stood back, feeling her heart pound as she watched Lena slip into slumber. I wish I had told you, Kara thought, her mind flashing to a moment long ago in a forest. I wish I had told you, before…

Kara spent a fitful night trying to sleep on her couch, and Lena’s eyes flashed with shame the next morning as she woke. But they left for Noonan’s, leaving the conversation behind.

---

It felt impossibly brief, that window of time after Kara had revealed her secret, where everything felt almost right with the world. Maybe someday, she and Lena could finish that conversation.

But she found herself in a kryptonite shell.

The universe ended soon after, and even magic couldn’t fix how they had broken. Until the day Kara finally found her hands in Lena’s, vowing together to take down her brother, and Kara felt again that hopeful wonder of what a future with Lena could hold.

And then she found herself in the Phantom Zone again, the words ringing in her head, I wish I had told you.

---

Sleep had eluded Kara in the weeks back from the Phantom Zone. So she was already wide awake at 2am, when she heard Lena’s heart begin to hammer.

Kara tensed, rushing to her window and ears tuning in as she prepared to fight off an assassination attempt or catch Lena as she fell.

But as she shot into the sky, she nearly tumbled when she realized that Lena wasn’t in distress. The shaky breaths and small laughs caused Kara’s chest to tighten in anguish. She’s fine, Kara thought, feeling tears prick the edges of her vision. She’s fine.

---

“Are you okay?” Lena said, when she finally found Kara in the Tower, sitting on a step. “Alex said she couldn’t find you - you were in the Fortress?”

Kara glanced up from the steps. “I just, um. I was reading in the Fortress, I fell asleep there.” It had the benefit of being true. The Fortress was far enough to drown the sound of Lena’s heart out.

Lena shuffled next to Kara, taking a seat. “I don’t remember seeing any beds there.”

“I float in my sleep,” Kara shrugged, staring at her hands as she let silence fall.

Lena shifted, uncomfortable with the quiet. “Are you okay?”

Yeah, Kara almost said, but something stopped her this time. Perhaps it was the poor sleep. Perhaps it was the litany of I wish I had told you that would replay in her mind.

How many more times am I going to do this?, Kara thought. How many more times am I going to carry that regret? “I love you,” Kara said finally, sensing Lena tense up next to her. “I know… I know that door is closed. But I love you. I should’ve told you so long ago.”

“You… you heard me last night,” Lena wondered softly. “So you went to the Fortress?”

Kara grimaced. “I stopped listening as soon as I realized,” Kara said, fighting a panic. Will she be angry? “I never meant to- to invade your privacy. I’ll be more careful.”

“The door isn’t closed,” Lena said. “If you don’t want it to be.”

Those words made Kara brave enough - or maybe just confused enough - to finally tilt her head up to meet Lena’s gaze. “But- last night-”

“I’ve been trying to get over you. Not very successfully,” Lena added, with a wry grin.

“Really?” Kara smiled.

“Really.”

---

The matching laws had been long dismantled by the time a smiling Alura officiated their marital rites. Kryptonians didn’t have concepts like best man or matron of honor, but that didn’t stop the two women from inviting Alex and Kelly to stand at each of their sides as they said their vows.

Kara never imagined that it’d be a woman’s wrist she’d place her wedding bracelet on. Though she supposed she never imagined marrying on an asteroid of her father’s creation, or marrying for romantic love, or marrying someone her people would call Hero of Argo for the creation of a black rock.

She never imagined finally telling Lena her secret. She never imagined Lena’s forgiveness. She never imagined the feel of Lena’s lips pressed against her own, hands tugging at her robes, as she whispered zhao against Lena’s lips.

And she never imagined being the one to make Lena’s heart race.

#I deleted this WIP a minimum of 3 times before it finally became a thing #supercorp #mel writes ficlets

452 notes · View notes

ddarker-dreams · 11 months

Text

Do Puppets Dream of Electric Sheep?

Yan Scaramouche x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, mild not SFW implications. Word count: 2.1k.

“What am I to you?”

He stills. Your voice is as gentle as a mother crooning a lullaby to her newborn. Sweet, mild. Not intending to startle the sensitive creature who is unaccustomed to this world. It regurgitates memories of his progenitor. He can never clearly recall her countenance or the exact pitch of her voice, there are only formless blurs and warbled words that sounded far away.

It is a small mercy that he never made out the specifics of her face. For it allows him to envision her in whatever manner suits him best. She can be the scheming Niwa Hisahide who sought to manipulate him, the sickly child who left him behind, or the mendacious kitsune whose promises for aid went unkept. His mother is the locus of his rage that branches out and bears rotten fruit.

You cease your previous task of combing his hair from behind. Artificial heat burns his cheeks when your chest presses against his back, your arms coiling around his slender shoulders like tendrils. The hold is tight enough to almost hurt.

“Say, are you listening?” Your lips brush against his ear. He shivers. “Well, puppet?”

Furniture clatters in a cacophony of noise.

He stares at you, incredulous, his lips parting only to close again. He cycles through emotions and is unable to settle on one.

How do…? You shouldn’t know that!

You pay him no mind. You fix the victims of his outburst, setting the stool upright and straightening the vanity’s various implements. Then you sit where he sat, smoothing the wrinkles in your skirt as you do so. You face him instead of the mirror, which has cracked into three disjointed fragments.

The scene before him arouses confusion, then suspicion. His eyes eventually find their way to the mirror behind you. He barks a laugh at what he sees. The sound reverberates in the tiny room. Electro concentrates in his hands, crackling and ready to stain his surroundings crimson. He gives a malicious grin.

It reflects in the cracked mirror, whereas your form does not.

“A cheap parlor trick,” he muses. “I should’ve figured.”

You aren’t her, he thinks. And how grateful he is to realize it.

“I’m not?” You challenge, raising an eyebrow. What is this being capable of hearing his thoughts? The curve of your smile epitomizes everything you’ve never been: cruel and provocative. This ignis fatuus who dares to assume your form makes no attempt to flee from the attack writhing in his palms. “Well, I suppose there’s some truth to that. What you’re looking at now is what I am to become, not my present, corporeal self.”

He studies “you” carefully. The pigmentation of your eyes, your intonation, and your body language; it lines up uncannily well, but your word choice is peculiar. There’s a callousness begotten to those burdened by esoteric knowledge, an experience he’s intimately familiar with. This can’t be a poorly executed emulation devised by that medical charlatan excommunicated by his peers, or an experience that aligns with the continuity of Teyvat’s laws.

Is his conscious being tampered with by the gods?

“I’m afraid not. We both know that panopticon has no interest in you. No, discarded prototype, think back to your creation. When was it determined you’d be of no use to Beelzebul?”

He grits his teeth. That intrusive introspection is coming into play again. It’s as if his innermost sentiments have been printed out in large lettering for you to scrutinize.

“So you’ve finally realized, although you’re hesitant to think it. I can’t blame you, nothing good ever comes from your dreams. Since you don’t require sleep, you were able to avoid this for some time… in trying to play human with me in reality, you’ll be judged by me in the one state where you are utterly powerless.”

The energy gathering in his hand dissipates without him willing it. He tries in vain to summon it again, but the element no longer heeds his command. Clicking his tongue, he sits on the edge of the bed, then crosses his arms over his chest. He chastises himself for not noticing sooner. This room may appear to be an exact replica of the one you share, but the slightest details in its geometry betray the realm of possibility. Certain angles bend in inconceivable ways, the ceiling itself is drooping down like a viscous gel, the descent so slow, it’s near imperceptible.

Dreams, pesky as they may be, are always destined to end. He need only wait for this torment to run its course.

“If that’s the stance you’ve decided to take, why not answer my question?”

He feigns ignorance for a beat, despite knowing full well the inquiry you’re referring to. You allow him his temporary repose.

“What you are to me is a nuisance. A meaningless manifestation that I’ll forget about as soon as I wake,” he replies. How strange it is, taking this baleful tone toward an image of you. You are the sole individual he doesn’t regard with pure loathing, and as such, he treats you with a tenderness he thought himself previously incapable of. He can’t recall a time when contempt felt unnatural, like the first time he mimicked human breathing.

This veneer of nonchalance is forced and he knows it. The mirage taking on your comely likeness is seeping under his synthetic skin, spreading malaise and decay.

“Oh? That’s an awfully bold statement, but, nevertheless, let’s entertain it a while longer.”

You clap twice and the surroundings shift.

His limbs are dragged upward by an unrelenting force — red strings as formidable as piano wire. He struggles out of instinct. This futile act only serves to tighten the binds. Upon realizing this, he goes limp, noting that your presence is no longer visible.

He has an unobstructed view of the cracked mirror, its jagged edges displaying three different images.

To the left, he sees himself wearing the outfit he first awoke with, the golden feather dangling from his neck. The middlemost portion is accurate in its portrayal, unlike the others. It shows the glint of the mitsudomoe symbol upon his chest which he considers his birthright. The right fragment is nearly indiscernible, aside from hues of teal that swirl as if spurred on by the wind.

The mirror shatters.

Light footsteps circle around him. He wrenches his head in the direction of the ambient sounds, identifying no clear source.

“Even if you forget about me now, according to your designs, we’ll meet again. This “me” that’s been tainted and corrupted by your selfish intent. In trying to preserve me, you’ll be my ruin. You already know that though, don’t you? That your desperate clinging will drag us both down to unfathomable depths. It’s true, that by never letting me die, you’ll have an eternity with me…”

You materialize in front of him, standing with your hands behind your back. The casual stance is at odds with the venom you spew forth. Just as before, everything about your physical appearance is correct, save for a single, damning detail. Your eyes glow a luminescent violet — that of Inazuma’s reclusive deity, whose gnosis he intends to commandeer, even if he must tear it from her himself.

“But is that the eternity you truly wish for?”

It isn’t. Of course it isn’t.

What else was he to do?

Watch helplessly as your biological clock ticks on while the hands on his remain frozen in place? Witness your final until you breathe your last breath, then allow your husk to be buried in the cold, unfeeling ground? His is a life of apprehension. That by some cruel twist of fate, you’ll fall victim to the many pitfalls mortals are vulnerable to. Illness, injury, violence, the list goes on and on. His overactive imagination serves as a personal purgatory that churns out images of your downfall every moment he is not by your side.

Upon returning to your quaint little cottage on the outskirts of civilization, trepidation eats at him like maggots upon a corpse. If he can’t find you tending to your garden, baking in your kitchen, or lounging on the swing hanging from the old oak tree in your front yard, madness slithers at his heels, ready to pierce him with its fangs.

You may never forgive him, but he couldn’t forgive himself if he let the one thing he cherishes in this joke of a world leave him behind.

“I won't look at you the way I once did. The me who speaks your true name, spends days wondering when you’ll return from your traveling ‘job’, gladly welcomes you into her bed, granting you access to her most sacred body and soul; you will never see her again. She will exist in your memory alone.”

Your pointer finger hovers over his trembling lower lip, then descends, over his Adam’s apple and in between his collarbones.

“Having savored these pleasures once freely given, you’ll have no choice but to take them by force. You’ll defile me and insist it’s worship. Bitterness might whet your palate, but you’ll never have your fill. Can you call that love, poor puppet? Or will you rightfully refer to it as ownership?”

All verbal exchanges cease.

In this nightmare blurring the lines of what if, where he is but a spectator rather than an active participant, he laughs. It echoes in his hollow chest cavity where no fleshly heart beats. Your physiognomy goes blank in the face of such blatant malignity. He hangs here, a tossed-aside marionette, consumed by a paroxysm of emotion he once swore to wipe clean from his chest.

“If this is an attempt to appeal to my conscience, it won’t work,” his grin nearly splits his face in two. “Harass me every night, for all I care. I’ll accept it. I’ll accept anything. Every form of you… every possible iteration, no matter how unsightly, beautiful, indifferent, or anything in between, I want it. There isn’t a version of you that can deter me. The real you offered herself to me for a lifetime — who am I to turn down such an alluring offer?”

You pull away from him.

The absence of your touch is worse than any physical torture you could inflict. He’ll take your loving caresses, your hand ripping into his chest, so long as he can familiarize himself with your genuine warmth. Such is the resolve of a puppet who has endured the biting blizzard of loneliness. Destroy him and he’d rebuild. Ignore him and he’ll pry the words from your mouth. Attempt to leave him and he’ll ensnare you in a trap that neither of you can escape from.

This advocate for your future is washed away in a sea of ink, black as night, untouchable and ever-present as a shadow. The cascading wave swallows you whole.

You depart with a final threnody.

“Until we meet again, then.”

…

Something brushes over his cheek.

“... Kuni? Kunikuzushi? Ah, what do I do, you aren’t waking up…! Insults? Do I try insults? Uh, you’re of less than average height—”

“Quiet down, woman, you’re loud,” Scaramouche complains with a groan.

You’re hovering above him. It’s a heavenly sight — if he were a believer in such things — the upturning of your eyebrows, the flow of your hair tousled by interrupted sleep, and the temptation of your soft, parted lips. Warmth emanates from your body. He delights in it. Swears a silent oath to himself that he’ll never be without it.

“The insult worked,” you whisper, content with your quick thinking. Then, remembering the situation, you’re back to fussing over him. “Are you okay? You must’ve been having an awful nightmare.”

His lips form a thin line. “... Something like that.”

“What was it about?”

“You,” he forces an unperturbed tone. Although he’s still hazy from sleep, he’s used to bending the truth. Or in this case, covering the parts he doesn’t want you to see. “I have to deal with you in the realm of conscious and unconscious now. Terrifying, right?”

The sarcasm successfully draws your attention elsewhere.

“Absolutely. So terrifying, in fact, I better sleep elsewhere so as not to frighten my— oof!”

“Oh no you don’t,” he pulls you against his chest, preemptively ending your getaway, “You’re not going anywhere.”

You willingly collapse into his hold, laughing softly. Though you’re no longer trying to wriggle away, his grip is ironclad, his arms trembling. He interweaves himself into you with a tangle of limbs. Once he’s content, he presses his face against the thrumming pulse in your neck. This stream that maintains your life is temporary — a subpar placeholder until you’re imbued with immortality. Still, he cherishes it, this special rhythm that has sustained you long enough for your paths to interconnect.

He gives your pulse a chaste, reverent kiss.

Your paths are bound to never diverge, even if damnation is where they'll lead.

#scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouhe x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere kunikuzushi x reader #my stuff

676 notes · View notes

thesharktanksdriver · 6 months

Text

Determination! (Platonic)

Warning for this chapter: fisher tigers part is much more serious. It’s talks of slavery and while it isnt too graphic it does included a lot of mature themes. If that makes you uncomfortable please skip over it

You find that your dreams are very disjointed

Granted, you normally don’t dream at all

It’s typically just empty blackness as you fall into unconsciousness and then back into the waking world

But when you do have a dream every once in a blue moon

It’s…odd

Even for Dream standards you think their somewhat odd

The voices of those long past that you’d met cheering you on

Flashes of multicoloured sparks

The endless expanse of space as you stare at a star

It’s an old one, a dying one

Your not sure how you know that information yet you do

And you watch it die with sparkling eyes

It implodes on itself

Creating a massive explosion of light and energy that dispersed throughout the galaxy

Bright white light shattering into every colour imaginable into the void of space

The energy going in every corner of the universe

A supernova

Your not sure how you know that word but it comes into your mind

Perhaps it hasn’t even been invented yet because you know for a fact that knowledge on stars was vastly limited

Yet that doesn’t stop you from knowing knowledge you never knew before

You reach out towards the remnants of the dead star in a trance

The cheers of the dead yelling “stay determined!”

You open your mouth to eat the star shards

And then you wake up

How curious

Sun Pirates

In your time adrift at the endless sea you had come across many people of many races

Humans, odd winged people, mermaids, devil fruit users, marines and pirates

So it doesn’t come as a surprise when you come across a group of fishmen sailing the sea

They all look over deck at you with a mixture of expressions

Some worry, others pity and some with conflict

But as they all watch a Fishman with rose red skin, a tattoo of a sun on his chest and black hair tied back with a bandanna

He ushers them aside to look Down at you from what you assume to be his ship

“Hi! Do any of you know what part of the sea I’m in?. I think it’s the north blue? But I’m not sure. You’d think with the amount of time I’ve been afloat I’d be able to tell but-“

“Kid are you alone?!”

“Do you see anyone else on this ship?”

You don’t have much of a choice before your brought upon their ship

To their surprise though your not scared?

In fact you seem rather amused at the predicament your in

One that would usually leave normal people scared shitless

But it’s easy for the entire crew to tell your not a normal kid

Especially as you seem to find interest in what type of marine animals each member is

Even more so when you ask about how the capabilities/features of said marine animal

It’s…odd how knowledgeable you are despite your young age

And when they ask about it you just say “I know from experiences on the sea”

Like the fuck is that supposed to mean when your talking about the dangerous venom of the stonefish

They are worried

Like real worried

Some are still off put by the fact your a human but with how your talking the mixture of shock and concern overpower it

God they never thought they’d be fretting over a human but when you talk in visceral odd detail about how sharks occasionally eat people when desperate or confusing them for other prey

It’s a bit freaky

Doesn’t help that it’s oddly specific which makes it seem much more personal

And how you explain all these facts with a completely wide smile not noticing how their all horrified

Their captain Fisher tiger is especially worried when he questions you about how you ended up alone at sea in the first place

He keeps pressing you on the matter but always gets the same response of “I set out to sea and haven’t looked back” and “I’m not sure if my island exists anymore. It’s not like anyone would remember me, I’ve been gone for such a long time”

That implies so much and at the same time is very vague

This poor man is a few migraines away from bashing his head against a wall

But other than that and the worry he finds you to be an interesting kid

While watching you interact with his crew he notices that you treat them all as regular people

You don’t make snide comments nor do you go off of stereotypes to categorize them

Instead you see them as their own individual people

People who were owed respect no matter their race or appearance

And even when a few aren’t exactly the most friendly towards you your respect

Giving them space as you see their uncomfortable

For a kid your emotionally aware in a way that even most adults can’t compare

You can tell if someone has deep rooted trauma and don’t push the subject

Going out of your way not to bring up bad memories associated with humans if your presence did so

There were seemingly no bad feelings about it either

Just pure understanding in your eyes from possible personal experience

Even when he harbours hate for you it’s brushed off as seemingly nothing personal

When your not conversing your quietly helping around

Somehow knowing how to raise the sails and properly clean the deck

Never telling anyone of your deeds and just doing them to help out

It’s clear by how organic it is for you that your used to doing it

Yet your own …”ship” is something more akin to a poorly put together raft

Everything about you is odd

And for a long while he isn’t sure if that’s good or bad

Fisher is a man haunted by the actions inflicted upon him

A shared trauma among all his people from humans

He does not discriminate when rescuing slaves but he still has his own afflictions towards humans

The actions of them still on his skin and baring his soul

Yet he allows you on his ship despite it

Because he knows your a child

Someone who had not harmed him nor his people

Someone who’s innocent to the horrors of the world

To the harm done by your race

He grapples with his own hated for you because of something you cannot pick

He feels guilty and horrible for it

Yet the look in your eyes says that you understand him somehow

And that makes him feel worse

A child should not understand hatred from others

Let alone understand why he feels hatred towards them

And then also accept it with such empathy

it hurts

he's reminded of the guards who used to sneer at him for being who he was

you feel no sadness due to his gaze

only kindness as you do your best to avoid him

in some sense you understand why he gazes at you that way

you can't blame him, not when you yourself had been victim of the abuse of your own kind

looked down upon as dirt

seen as lesser

what hurts worse though is that you can't solely blame one group like he and some of his men can do

your human and your hurt by other humans

maybe it's worse in some aspects

it's why you give an understanding look in your eyes despite his occasional glare

Jinbe is perhaps the one you spend the most time with on the ship other than Hatchan

There is apprehension at first but what follows after a short period of time is kindness

Your just a kid

One not guilty for the crimes of others

He can’t blame someone’s actions on you

Especially when your nothing but respectful to them all despite their hesitation due to your race

He reminds you of a gentle giant which is fitting with what marine animal he’s acquainted to

Most times spent with him are ones where he listens to your words

Finding interest and intrigue in your stories and facts of the sea

It seems far fetched a child experienced all this but the look in your eyes says it’s true

The small mementos that hang on your form like hand woven bracelets, necklaces of shells and shark teeth, a coat befit for a captain hanging on your shoulders and bandana tied around your forehead to keep your hair tangled with pearls back

Their all signs that somehow your tales are true

As amazing and horrifying as they seem their true

And it leaves him feeling anxious

Your a good kid

Maybe one of the best he’s met so far and seeing the wear and tear on you hits him hard

You put up a smile and bare through whatever someone throws your way

Never once speaking back unless your standing up for someone besides yourself

It’s admirable but he sees how it has worn you down

Once upon a time he can imagine you smiling out of actual joy

And now it’s a mechanism for you to write off your pain

Your selfless to a fault

And on the sea people take advantage of that

But perhaps you already experienced that

And it leaves Jinbe’s stomach swirling with unease

He frets over you like a mother hen when you throw all regard for safety away and when you get something simple like a paper cut cause he knows either way you won’t care to tend to your own wounds

He honestly at the point wonders if this is what being a mother feels like

But he can’t contemplate that long cause Arlong is being a dick once again

Tension with him was high before but now Jinbe has half the mind to knock him square in the jaw if he kicks you again

And now he has half the mind to shake some sense into you when you walk it off

God he needs some sort of therapist cause he does not know how to help you beyond being protective and patching you up

It’s obvious that your hurt beyond repair on the inside

The times he’s found you just simply staring off towards the sea with a dead look in your eyes is a testament to that

A call of longing in long gone innocent eyes that still retain kindness despite it all

In those moments he just sits by your side and holds you

You grasp him like a lifeline

Something anchoring you down to reality as your mind makes you remember

He tells stories of fishmen island to distract you

He noticed though that when he tells of the promise to fishmen island from joyboy something in your eyes light up

Sparkles of light within them that dance but then fizzle away after a moment along with a shiver gliding down his back for some reason

He writes it off though

Just going back to his tales

It’s under yet another moon lit night you end up staring out at sea again

Memories of the past swirling in your mind like a hurricane

You can’t help it

Not after being reminded of one life you particularly didn’t like

You didn’t mean to overhear Fisher and Jinbe but it just happened

The captain of the crew talking about his time as a slave

The horror inflicted upon him at the hands of humans

You just keep staring out at the water

Burying yourself deeper into your subconscious trying to escape

But you can’t

Too distracted by the memories that you don’t even notice the two coming out the captains quarters to find you

Vacantly staring out at sea

Your staring out at the water

A deep empty stare

Darkness swirling in your irises

Occasionally you twitch, a jolt of imaginary pain burning your back once more

You sometimes still feel the pain of the brand that luckily now doesn’t haunt your skin

You hadn’t felt it in a long while until you realized after hearing him talk the tattoo of the sun on him was his brand covered up

It served as some sort of trigger

The memories came flooding back

The pain

The torture

The screams

The death

The rot

The overwhelming plea for death in a hell that became a limbo realm

Your hands trace the symbol on the wood lightly

Every couple of months (or maybe years? Your not sure) these thoughts and memories came up

It’s a normal cycle for you

Yet now they hit harder after seeing his tattoo

Cause it makes you think of them

Of the 3 sisters, the names of you never got as your mind makes the effort to forget what you experienced

Up until now you always had the worry of forgetting

You had been alive for a long time

so much so that your memories are inconsistent and blur together

Yet your time as a slave is something clear in your head that you wish erase

To wipe clean from your mind and bury

Yet you can’t will yourself to forget them

Because of those 3 girls you’d befriended over scraps of dry bread

Of the shared pain that was all understood from the four of you

Crying silently together while huddled in the dark

Cleaning one another’s bruises

The eldest girl of the bunch holding you one night when noticing your shivering form, the other two following in the action of huddling around you

A budding friendship formed from barely any words but silent understanding and conversations though looks

You can’t abandon their memory even if it’s attached to other ones you wished to bleach from your mind

It’s there staring into the darkened water you mutter 2 words that had been erased from your mind out of fear

“Celestial dragons”

The words are spat out like a curse yet your tone is full of emptiness

It’s something only someone affected by them could say in such a tone

Perhaps that’s why Fisher now looks at you with realization

“You…you were one too?”

“Yeah, it…I think it was a couple years back, I’m not sure though. The passage of time is hard for me to notice anymore, it all blurs together. Hell I can barely remember my life before the sea, I know I had parents and then they died but…I can’t remember their faces. Anyways, I was captured and sold, ended up in some dungeon.” For a moment you pause going over your memories as you pinch your chin in thought, the way you speak about it is nonchalant yet holds a lot of untold weight “it’s a blur of pain, I remember it specifically on my back. I try to limit how clear it is cause I don’t specifically like remembering it. There were these 3 girls though, sisters who all ended up in the same cell as me. We found kinship in our situation, I gave them the scraps of food I got since they needed it more than me.”

“Do you know what happened to them?” At hearing this you turn to Jinbe, a solemn expression crossing your face as an answer

“Not sure. I…like to hope that their ok, that they found their way back home” your tone is anything but hopeful, cracking with gloom that’s evident in your eyes “but hoping is all I can do. I wished for death when I was there, hoping they’d just finish me off so I could move on. At some point though I began to hope, those 3 girls needed someone there for them and I hoped I could remain just for them”

“Why’d you escape then?”

“I didn’t have choice.”

“What do you mean? That doesn’t really make sense”

They watch as an odd look forms in your eyes

They sparkle with unknown mystery

Something old and sentimental

Something ancient despite the young face you have

“Can you keep a secret?”

They look at one another for a moment

A silent conversation between the two

Jinbe is the one who nods first, your gaze then shifting to Fisher who takes a moment to look at you

He never noticed it till now but your eyes have something about them that…seems inhuman

For a second he swears he even sees stars sparkle in them

Great big shining stars that light the night sky’s and allow sailors to navigate the treacherous seas they love and call home

Stars that when he looks at reminds him of his freedom

Of not staring at the ceiling of a cage

Stars he wished to grasp at back in the days he wore shackles

Stars that for some reason now seemed to shine brighter, as if mirroring your resolve

He nods, watching a moment of vulnerability shine through eyes that look blank for a child

Eyes that have seen horrors

Eyes that had lost their twinkle of innocence yet still retain childlike charm in viewing the world

Eyes that sparkle of something ancient and old, residing in the depths of your irises like a great deity in the void of the night sky

“Have you heard about a star that never dies?” And so you begin your tale

By the time your done your tale they both sit there in silence

A deafening and choking silence that grips at you like the old collar of rusting steel or ball and chain that used to be attached to your leg

A sign of having your freedom weighed down

Locked away

You had once tried to break that leg but the girls stopped you

The eldest of them crying for you to stop

So you did

You watch them both stay in silence

And then see the tears line their eyes

And then they crumble like a cracked heart

Jinbe falling first as he grips you

Strong and battle-worn hands now soft and gentle

Afraid that you’d fade away

Afraid what would happen if he let go

It’s what you expected from him

But then You look to Fisher and find him in a similar state much to your surprise, if not he might be even worse than how Jinbe is handling what you told

Pure grief in his eyes

Regret

Pain

Solidarity

Familiarity

And most of all empathy

It pours out from him like his tears

Like a waterfall with never ending raging water crashing down onto the rocks

it’s loud and passionate

Covers up the internal screams of the past latching back onto him, into the lingering scars

Stinging Pain sinking back into those same spots like the angry gnashing claws of a beast

He’s hurting

But so are you

Your hurting together through shared experiences and ones he could never wish to experience

Jinbe holds you for a long while

Time melts away as do the phantom pains of those long past days

You hold him back

The soft material of his yukata pulling you in even further

Warmth

Comfort

Understanding

And your unspoken words of ‘thank you’ to his of ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry’

You let time melt away a little more as they find themselves once more

“Why did you tell us this?” Fisher asks this with tears still falling down his face. Jinbe holds you close, webbed hand behind your head as he pulls you closer. You hear the waves lapping at the boat and the beats of his heart, it thumps like a drum. Rhythmically helping your equally torn apart emotions.

“I heard you talking about your experience. I thought it’s fair that I do the same” it’s said in such a simple manner that it makes the two fishmen reel back in shock for the third time in a night. It’s said in such sincerity and innocence, as if that was something normal “an equal exchange,If you will”

The crew watch on in confusion the next morning at the expression of thinking Fisher has on his face

Along with the clear signs of crying that Jinbe and him hold

People push but neither say a word

They say it isn’t their story to tell as their eyes trail back to you sitting with Hatchan

Playing a game innocently

Obliviously

Like a regular kid

Most don’t push after their captains grim expression

The look in his eyes

Some keep their curiosity to a low lit flame yet don’t get anywhere on the account they can’t get you to spill anything and Jinbe doesn’t exactly like them being nosey

So it eventually fizzles out

Things back back to normal

You tell your tales

Show them games they’d never played

You in turn learn more about fishman and mermaid society

But then you leave just as abruptly as you appeared

It’s weird to say but at a diner with them all as shanties are sung you just randomly say that soon you’ll be leaving

And despite how most of them hate to admit it

They didn’t want you to go

Hatchan is comically crying as a few others stubbornly argue against it

That it’s dangerous and you could get yourself killed

They look to Fisher and Jinbe who had been more observant of you as of late (if that’s even more humanly possible for Jinbe)

But their met with a reaction none had thought would happen

They object

They say it’s your choice and they can’t shackle you here

The sea was your home

And so the decision for your leave was cemented

In the days leading up to it you spend time with most the crew

But they all notice that at night you and their captain look out to the sky at night

Silence conversations happening through mere looks

pure understanding

Just pure solemn understanding

None make comments on it if they see it

Don’t mention it and forget it ever happened out of respect for both parties

And when the time comes to leave they all watch (some crying even) while waving goodbye

You promise them you’d meet again

“You’ll all be at sea right? Then that means you’ll definitely see me again someday! Wait and see! Grasp your freedom strong and tight, never take it forgranted”

Fisher watches and waves as you drift off into the distance, he holds a gentle smile

He hopes he’d meet you again

Hopes that perhaps you’d somehow end up on fishman island and talk to his people

As much as he thought Otohime’s talks of humans and fishmen working together in harmony were a naive and impossible dream

Perhaps if there were more humans like you it could work

And maybe

Just maybe

It would help both sides see that in the end neither were that different from one another

In your words on the silent night before you left “we both bleed, we feel and in the end we both have the same fates don’t we?. At heart no matter if your fishman, mermaid, human or anything else we experience the same gifts of life. We are all equal in the fact we are born on this earth and die here, and with that comes the desire for freedom and the pursuit of happiness”

He and his crew still have a lot to grapple with on the road to change

But you helped them start the first steps in overcoming the hate for your kind

A young immortal human child who had seen horrors upon horrors

Inflicted by their own kind that they will never stop loving with all their heart

Because you believe that inherently almost every sentient creature is born with kindness in them. It’s the world that corrupts it

When they are asked to take a former slave girl back to her hometown he does not have any hesitation to do so

He hopes that this is the next step in overcoming his hatred

Mihawk

Mihawk thought he was going to have a nice and relaxing day

His morning had been going great, a nice glass of red wine before he trained, a good breakfast

And then when he went outside of his castle there he finds is a young child looking around confused

….god damn it

So yeah, you died and just randomly appeared on the island that houses the greatest swordsman currently in the world

Not exactly your first choice but it wasn’t the worse

Well wasn’t bad instil the swordsman himself shows up looking as confused as you were

Yeah seems like you have some explaining to do

And dying or running away wouldn’t exactly help with the endeavour either since he seems intent on an answer

So here you are

In a gothic mansion lead by Mihawk into a room as he calmly sits down and asks you to explain

Now

And so you do

Well…you do the best you can to explain your entire situation as he sits there with a blank expression

By the end he just sighs

To be honest he’s not sure if he believes it or not but he takes it as an answer for now

And after that you two form an odd friendship and routine as you spend your time on his island

To his pleasure your polite and not loud

Silently watching him train or go about his day

Along with that conversations with you are actually quite pleasant

Mihawk is a man of very few words

Only shanks is able to get him talking with the help of finely aged booze

Yet talking with you comes naturally as breathing the air around him

It’s intriguing

Especially as it seems your story isn’t a bluff for how personally and detailed your recounts of events are

Colour him impressed

you talk of Roger in a way that only Shanks could do

Describe the gods valley event with details only found in classified marine files

Not only that but your also a good storyteller

Telling such events in glorious ways that he can’t help but listen to the liquid gold that is your voice

The treasure trove of stories that flow out your mind

He must admit that he can’t help but sit on the edge of his seat

Wanting to hear more

In this time he comes to care for you

Your a child eternally

One in a cruel world that preys on the weak

While you may be strong mentally (god knows if you hadn’t then you would’ve gone insane) but physical your not

What doesn’t help is your total and utter lack of self awareness

God knows the amount of times he’d saved your ass from being killed by Humandrills

After awhile they seem to get the memo of leaving you alone but that still doesn’t stop you from almost dying in other ways

Almost walking off a cliff

Almost falling into a river

Almost getting hit by a piece of falling stone

He is now paranoid and trails you like a shadows or has you stick around him incase of yet another near death incident

God is this what being a dad feels like? Cause that’s how Mihawk feels at this point

He has half the mind to buy a child leash or something similar

Cause if you wander off one more time and almost die he’s gonna-

You make his stress levels go through the roof

Doesn’t help you completely brush of dying as no big deal

As if being eaten that one time isn’t traumatic as hell

He wonders if his position of warlord has some sort of health benefits cause he might look into therapy

Not that you think you need it though, you think your completely fine yet he begs to differ

You find it funny how stoic he is yet you can read him like a book

He shows his growing care through actions

Like making breakfast or decorating a spare room of his castle to something more suited to your taste

The unspoken offer of “if you need a place to stay your always welcome here” through these actions

A silent way of also prepping for you leaving

He knows that moment is coming

Especially as your small “boat” drifts ashore

He’s hardly call that a boat but nether the less it floats on water and you call it a boat

In your time preparing to leave he insists on at least teaching you the basics of using a sword

The proper positioning of your grip and stance

How to give a powerful slash

You pick up quickly, years of watching experienced swordsmen coming into play

He’s proud yet worry sows itself into his brow

Your a kind soul

One that has been put through untold hell and back

Even the strongest sword can bend and break if pressure is put on the perfect point

He doesn’t know what your breaking point will be but he’s worried

Cause inevitably it’s bound to happen

He at least has some peace of mind knowing he taught you how to fight

And when he sends you off he promises that when you next meet he’d have Sword fit for you

The castle feels more lonely without your small pitter patter of footsteps

The air is still when it should be filled with your stories of old

The garden takes more effort than he remembers when your not there to pull out the weeds

The Humandrills seem to miss your presence

It’s odd but you’d left such an impact in such a small amount of time

Mihawk wouldn’t have it any other way though

Hiriluk

Recently on the spring island you found yourself on there had been rumours of a thief going by

Normally this wouldn’t had caught your attention

But one day as you walk past an odd eccentric man with Snow White hair in a ridiculous manner with clearly stolen objects you can’t help but be intrigued

Especially as he shifts into an alleyway, leaning against the grimy wall with a hand over his heart

Coughs racking his entire form

Almost crumbling down as the subsequent spoils of his stealing fall as well

It’s then and there you become invested in this odd man

His story

So you decide to help him

For someone’s who’s a thief you’d thinks he’d be less enthusiastic about giving out his name

But your sorrily mistaken (in a good way) as the man introduces himself as Hiriluk

A master thief of the grand line

A plunderer of countless treasures and various tales

You nod along

Listening intently to his words as you help walk him to his hideout

The poor man is still shaken after his illness acting up again

Apparently as of late it’s been worse, so much so that he fears his days are now limited

But despite that he keeps a quite chipper attitude

Somehow finding enjoyment despite his circumstances

He’s…much like yourself in that sense

Finding joy even in the bleak conditions of your reality

It…is nice in some sense

To find someone a lot like yourself in mindset

Makes conversation much more interesting as you both talk of similar viewpoints

Much like you he is plagued with a curse that follows him everywhere he goes

From island to island

No matter the pace he canning escape his disease

A factor of his life that he must now deal with as he enjoys the time he has left

He’d given up on a cure by now

But…despite that you can’t help but research a bit to at least try

He appreciates the effort but solemnly admits that he’s tried everything

Hell, his island is known for their doctors and they couldn’t help him

He’s a lost cause like anyone with white lead disease

It’s a fact he accepts

And sadly you do so as well

Your stand only works for you

It’s entire purpose is for its user and not for anyone else

Not versatile or has any multiple uses

At least not that you knew of anyways

So on that factor you can’t do anything

So as you accept that fact you instead focus on spending time with the man

Listening to him get drunk and talk of someone named Kureha

An “old witch” with a stubborn edge and sharp tongue

But also has a kind heart

Someone who became a doctor for a reason, to help others as best she could even if she caused some chaos in the process

An odd one just like him (and you he adds with a smile) someone who didn’t fit in with the crowd

But maybe that was ok

Being different could very much be a curse for several reasons

Especially in a judgmental society that is maintained by the world government

But that otherness was also a blessing

Weirdness serving as a catalyst for so many wonderful things

For new ideas

For stubborn creativity that wouldn’t be snuffed out but instead burn bright

For brining together the people society looked down upon and giving them a chance to rise up

Your stay on the island is coming to a close but despite that Hiriluk doesn’t panic or seem depressed at the thought

Instead he finds happiness in the time still left

The conversations that have been spoken

The time he has left in this world being used for something truly nice

Not just stealing

Instead now truly engaging with life

The spring island your both on is now at its fullest bloom

The place was somewhat famous for how beautiful it was but neither of you had yet to see it

So the day before you go you asked if he’d like to go see it with you before you left

A last hurrah

One that would be spent watching the cherry blossoms in full bloom and have lunch

He agreed

The next morning is spent with him getting snacks of all kinds

Him packing them in a small basket as you lead him with the directions you got from locals

The two of you go up the hill overlooking the light pink trees in full bloom

His hand gripping yours as he goes still in shook

The sight is breath taking

Even the air from your lungs is seemingly sucked out at the sight of the trees in full bloom

The petals gently cascading down like snow around you

Getting stuck in your hair and pooling in his cupped hands

His eyes tear up and stare down at the pink petals

It’s breathtaking

And for the first time in a long while he feels ok

There was no blockage in his chest

Nor the looming grip of death on his shoulders

He felt cured

Like an average man that he always wanted to

The dream of his that died long ago in a doctors office when they said it was incurable

But now as he stares he feels hope

Something igniting in him in place of his Illness

These small fluttering petals had an impact on him just as you had

It cured him somehow

You showing him this magical sight cured him

And now he wanted to do that for others

He wanted to show the people of his bleak winter island this magnificent sight

To see pink instead of the white fluttering snow

To see trees not covered in snow that dampened their beauty

To feel the air escape their lungs

The lunch goes by quickly as does your leaving but both of you do so with a smile

He sets off with a new goal and you wish him luck

Telling him that you believe he’d somehow come up with a solution cause people like the two if you always did somehow

He smiles

When he returns back to his home island he sets out to be a doctor

To help cure others just as you had done with him

Some of The petals he collected that day kept in a small glass jar he kept as a souvenir and for testing

When Kureha calls him crazy he takes the words in pride

Recalling back on your time spent together

That odd little kid who had a spirit beyond their days

One who would humour his ramblings

Took him to that fateful place of blooming Sakura that would go on to change his life course forever

A parting gift in both an experience and in changing his life for the good

So he works on bringing that miracle to the winter island he lives on

Despite how impossible it seems he tries

And he tries and tries

And he keeps going despite how many times he is pushed down by yet another failure

You motivate him

The gift you gave him that he wants to share with others motivated him

His new student that in a lot of ways reminds him of you motivated him

Chopper sometimes still wonders why Hiriluk had taken him in

It lingers on the small reindeer’s mind

And it’s glaringly obvious what he’s thinking making the old “doctor” laugh

“Us weirdo’s have to stick together. I learned that from a friend of mine” as he says this the small blue nosed reindeer watches as the man pulls a framed photo off the wall. In it is him and a child with a large smile. “Hopefully one day you’ll meet them.”

“You…do you think they would accept me?”

Hiriluk let’s our a large laugh at that, clutching his sides as small tears line his eyes “if they hung around a old crazy coot like me then I’m sure they’d love you”

His young apprentice feels hope at his words

Sometimes silently staring at the picture with faint hope that one day he’d meet the doctor-….no his dad’s old friend

Perhaps in the future

But for now he had to help him find a cure

His sickness is getting worse and chopper doesn’t now if he could live with himself if he didn’t find a cure

His only lead as of now is some mushroom that can apparently cure anything

It’s a long shot but he has to try

He gazes as the photo once more

Hiriluk’s smiling face staring back along with your own

He’ll make sure Hiriluk will get to see you again

He promises it

With that the young reindeer sets off in the snow

Whenever you see the cascading petals of cherry blossoms you wonder how that odd doctor was doing

Brook

It was at reverse mountain that you had found yourself being picked up by a particular crew

The rumbar pirates had originated in the west blue

A musical band of jolly singing pirates with instruments of all kinds

All of which varied from different islands and cultures

Brough together in musical harmony

It’s amazing to you how music seems to come to them wordlessly

They play and magic is produced from their songs

So much so a baby whale follows them in their journey and is now waiting for them to return

A promise they intend to keep as the travel the sea like any good crew

Whilst the captain and crew are welcoming and friendly there’s one person in particular your drawn to

Brook is a fun and free soul

Constantly with a smile or chuckling out his odd but charming laugh

The musician teaches you piano as best he can

His hands guiding yours as the crew eagerly watch with bright smiles

Eventually as they sing and dance he has you play side by side with him

Placing his top hat in your head as they all call you “mini brook”

It’s fun

Especially as the giant of a man picks up his violin and lets you play alone

The two of you stringing together a melody that the others join in on

Dancing and singing with slurred speech and jumbled steps

Those nights feel like a haze in your mind

One with a rosy tinted filter overtop those memories

Of the songs sung

The dancing as the crew took turns showing you their groove

Taking your hands into their own and your feet atop theirs as they showed you to dance

But then the music began to die

Despite your many deaths you’d experienced and saw of pirates

This was one that was common yet still chilling

Illness

Honestly with how many ships you’d been on your surprised you’d never experienced a death like this

And it’s certainly one you’d never thought they’d have to suffer through

It starts off as one person

And then it spreads

Brook and the others keep you away from the sight

Telling you that they were just hungover

You don’t tell them you know hangovers don’t last several days

As others being to fall Brook keeps to at least trying to keep the facade of things are fine in front of you

Even as he has to take the place of their captain

He has a good facade

But you hear his sobs at night

For his fallen Crew and the fact it’s still spreading

And for you

By god is he worried for you

They’d all talked of the possibility of having you take your small shipped tied to their own and leave

But they all agree it’s too big of a risk

Their at the middle of the sea, it would be a death sentence if they let you go on your own

They can’t have that happen

Even if there’s still a chance here that you’ll die

There’s still the possibility that at least someone will spot their ship

That help can come and at least rescue you

So for now they have you stay

The symptoms come slowly

You feel more tired

Burning up

Laboured breath

Their all mortified as you one day pass out on deck

When you wake up your tucked into bed

Nearby someone sobs

You recognize his voice and blurred figure despite your senses being dulled

Small shaky hands reach for his

And he reciprocated the action repeating that he’s sorry

That he’s so sorry

That it’s his fault

That he was supposed to keep you safe

You say it isn’t his fault but it falls on deaf ears

He keeps crying even as he coughs

You keep saying it’s alright even as it feels harder to breath

Eventually even though everyone is dead or on the brink of dying they decide to do one last number

One last piece

Binks booze

You sit beside Brook having to lean against him for support as both his and your hands drift along the ivory keys

The songs plays full force

The few left playing the tune

Some cheerfully sing with smiles and dance withe one another

But they fall first

Dying with smiles despite it all

You sing in their place along with those who are left

The singing goes down by one as yet another falls down

Violin clattering to the floor

You sing louder in his place despite how your lungs burn and throat feels as if needles scrape against it

Another violinist goes down after this

Brook shakes beside you

He keeps up a smile

You do so as well but tears escape your eyes

A quartet

The cello goes down

A trio

His smile wavers and tears trail down his face now

He’s breaking

The final goes down now

It’s just you and Brook left, but you feel yourself getting weaker

The edges of your eyes have black dotes and every time you close them it’s harder to open them once more

A duet

You keep playing for his sake

He looks down at you sobbing silently as he continues to play

Their flag waves silently in the wind

“I’m not sure how longer I can play…do you think you can do a solo?”

Tearfully he nods

Playing as you sing

Continuing even after the lyrics stop flowing from your mouth and you slump down into his side

A solo

He cries

Eventually the piano comes to a close

Despite there being no skeleton of you to put with the rest of the memorial Brook doesn’t question it

The sight of Your body disappearing into golden light was just a trick of the mind all those years ago to help with the grief of him failing you

He knows he went insane a long time ago

He’s spent years alone at sea mulling over their deaths, of yours and the promise to Laboon

His mind is long gone as he wanders the old tattered ship that used to be filled with song

Despite it all he tries to put up a mask of being happy

But he never sings

Never plays music

He can’t deal with another solo

Can’t deal with that last performance

Sometimes he thinks of the songs they made

The one the crew made about you that surprisingly got popular

Based off the odd tales of stars you talked about

An undying one

He wonders if it still plays

You remember they made a song about you

It’s long forgotten to the many new sailors of the sea

But on occasion you hear it from old souls. Those who had traveled the seas for many years and had retained the songs and myths now forgotten to the new

The sound of it always makes you smile, but it is tinged with sadness as you do so

Whenever it is sung or Binks Booze you promised yourself you’d always join in

A promise to them, that kind musical crew all those years ago that suffered a horrible death from a bad stroke of luck

You carry their memory along with Laboon

Whenever you end up at reverse mountain you always sing the songs they once did to ease the whales heart ache

It can only do so much but Laboon at least stops jutting against the mountain momentarily

Wanting to one day reunite with those jolly sailors

You wish you could one day do the same

But for now you carry their memories

Their songs that house the remnants of their souls

Sometimes you swear you see their rotting ship

But you always wave it off as missing them

Of delusions of your mind as you stare out into the darkness of the sea

#platonic #one piece x reader #brook x reader #hiriluk x reader #mihawk x reader #dracule Mihawk x reader #Jinbe x reader #fisher tiger x reader

322 notes · View notes

aihoshiino · 20 days

Text

chapter 146 thoughts

This chapter (and thus this chapter review) contains discussion of abuse, suicidal ideation and CSA, so if you're not in the headspace for that, skip this one and I'll see you next time.

we are so oshi no back

After last chapter left me fighting for my life to come up with literally anything to say about it, this was one of those chapters where I ended up having more and more to say about it the more I turned it over in my head. It still feels a bit disjointed and has that same issue of ripping through the events of the movie way too fucking fast that the arc as a whole has been having lately but this chapter was such a breath of fresh air I can't bring myself to care.

The chapter itself is more or less split in two, with one half dedicated to 15 Year Lie's in-universe events and the other focusing a bit on Aqua and Kana for, tbh, the first time in way too long. Admittedly, my enthusiasm for 15YL has waned given the reveal of just how much of it is completely made up but like. I'm still gonna over analyze this stuff. Sunk cost fallacy, don't fail me now!!!!

I joke, but the 15YL section of this chapter was legitimately bone chilling. That barrage of cuts following Uehara's attack on Airi…. fuuuuuuuck, man.

Airi herself is pure fucking poison this chapter too and I mean it in the best way. I continue to be incredibly impressed with how OnK understands the motivations of a person like Airi what her abuse of Hikaru is really about. When discussing this in 141, Miyako points out just how often victims of abuse can themselves go on to perpetuate their own pain out of a need to try and regain their dignity, but I think what Airi seeks in her abuse of Hikaru is control. We see how often she wields her power over him while pretending that he has as much agency as she does in their """relationship""" and it's repeated here, too; she throws the results of her own sexual abuse of him in his face as a way of permanently chaining the two of them together, all while tearing down his worth as a person as if to 'prove' he deserves to be trapped in her grasp. I've said before that Akasaka is unsettlingly good at writing toxic mothers but I think Airi has made it pretty clear that Akasaka understands and is thus excellent at writing abuse and abusers in general, and for someone like me who counts that as one of their favourite Themes (tm) in fiction, I feel quite well fed.

The abuse Airi hurls at him is also interesting from a perspective of paralleling Hikaru even further with Ai. We saw snippets of this in 140, of Hikaru characterizing himself as someone desperately trying to construct a version of himself that can be loved by others the same way Ai creates 'Ai of B-Komachi', a version of herself who can give and receive love in the way she thinks her authentic self is unable to. Airi puts this into more explicit words; Hikaru must construct this fake version of himself because there is no 'real' him and thus, he is inherently unlovable. Jesus Christ.

Knowing those words were swimming around in his head, it makes the HKAI scene that follows even more of a gutpunch than it already is. It's the most wonderful kind of miscommunication tragedy - with their respective traumas, there is basically no other way a talk like that could have gone and yet it's agonizing to see it play out. Ai's innocent cruelty in the face of Hikaru's pain and her suffocating smile… the worst part is, while I completely understand why this was so shattering for Hikaru, it's impossible to miss that this was, in a way, an expression of love from Ai; it was honesty, an admission of vulnerability. She herself even says she doesn't want to lie to him. But to Hikaru, what else could that have sounded like but a confirmation of his most godawful fear?

that said. the timeline here is very confusing. this seems to imply hkai were still dating all the way up to the murder-suicide, which seemed to be just before the dome concert but did the breakup really seem that recent during their phone call?? this whole timeline is penised beyond repair.

The art in this chapter in general is incredibly good but something in particular I want to highlight is how much and how often Aqua-as-Hikaru looks like Ai in these panels. I can't put my finger on what it is, but that similarity always makes me feel so warm and sad whenever I see it. For as much as he struggles with his relationship to her, Aqua really is his mother's son through and through.

and. man. what even is there to say about that scene in the rain and everything that follows. I was't sure if the murder/suicide was going to be featured in the movie but even the brief snippet of it that we got and that barrage of scene titles and Kamiki's silent scream… whoof. shit like this makes me really hope we get to see mengo illustrate a horror manga someday because i think she would absolutely kill it.

We cut back to reality to see Aqua reading the script and in perhaps the most interesting swerve in this chapter, we see that he has once again reverted to his double black hoshigans. And uh, am I going to sound like a terrible person if I say I'm really glad for this? LOL.

Obviously I would rather Aqua not be experiencing Suicidal Ideation (Bass Boosted) 24/7, but it's kind of a relief to see that one single conversation wasn't enough to totally shake Aqua out of that headspace. I've talked a lot about how frustrating I find it that 'Ruby finds out Aqua is Gorou' is treated as the finale to her black hoshigan arc and every ongoing thread, internal and external, attached to it was dropped like a rock with no further interrogation. It robbed Ruby of the opportunity for some really important growth and, imo, was just shitty for Kana and Memcho who were treated extremely poorly by her and got no apology for it. I was really worried this would be the case for Aqua as well and that his own dip into that rancid headspace would end on a wet fart which would really sting given just how little insight we've gotten into him this arc. But this chapter makes it clear that while some cracks have started to form in his armor, he's not in the clear just yet.

i mean, even if he was permanently back to one white star, aqua is such a little freak regardless………………………….

What this means in the long term is a little hard to pin down, both because we've had so little insight into Aqua's headspace this arc and because the exact nature of black hoshigan as a symbol has always been a little Calvinballed, but in this context and for Aqua specifically, I think we can read this as his conviction in the messy endgame of his revenge play being shaken up. I, personally, have been reading the black hoshigan as of late as an expression of the sort of futureless despair that can become suicidal ideation, at least for Aqua; since immediately after Ai's death, we have gotten incredibly strong hints that Aqua is suicidal, his guilt-fueled desire to die and his desperate want to experience a happy future at war within him. He more or less explicitly says as such in 106, expressing that this break in their relationship is necessary for Ruby to be able to live on 'after he's gone' - which strongly implies that Aqua's revenge play is intended to end with his death.

Knowing that Ruby is Sarina wasn't quite enough to shake his conviction, but their talk in 143 was. I do think Ruby just giving him some straightforward affirmation was a good starting point but I also can't help but wonder, with the context that his white stars were not indicative of a permanent change, if hearing just how deeply Ruby still relies on 'Gorou's' presence in her life struck a nerve for him. Paraphrasing her from 143, she straight up says Gorou is the one who gives her life meaning. And if that's how it is, what exactly will happen if he's gone again..?

Obviously this is all still speculation because even when I am begging on hand and knee Akasaka is refusing to give us Aqua introspection but at this point I have to make a guess at SOMETHING if i am going to say anything remotely coherent about aqua in this arc, so

ANYWAY!! AQUA AND KANA HAVING A NORMAL ASS CONVERSATION FOR THE FIRST TIME IN GOD KNOWS HOW LONG!!! Ngl, it did give me a bit of a chuckle to see Kana voice the question of whether Aqua was getting too immersed in his role, given that people were accusing her of that back during the first round of the RBKN conflict.

I was also really surprised to see Aqua just outright say that yeah, he is at least flirting with suicidal ideation. Like - that's the first time he's said that out loud, to anybody??? In 143 he voices the less damning but still not great sentiment that he feels guilty for being alive but this is to my knowledge the first time Aqua has expressed his suicidal ideation out loud, let alone to anyone else. And… fuck, man! That's an absolutely terrifying thing to hear a friend say. No wonder Kana reacts like she does.

Because of my powers of Claire-voyance (read: basic pattern recognition and being in fandoms for 15+ years), I'm pretty sure people are going to be Very Mean to Kana about the way she chooses to respond to Aqua here but honestly? Not only did this tough love response feel very IC for her, but the clumsiness of it felt very honest to me. I think a lot of people in fandom lately just want characters to talk like fucking therapists all the time and have the Correct And Unproblematic Response to… well, situations like this. But Kana is an 18 year old girl who has her own share of issues and her friend she knows is dealing with his own huge amount of baggage just casually dropped an "i wanna kms" on her. All things considered, I think she handles it surprisingly well.

Because like… look at what Kana really says to Aqua here. She gives him some of their usual banter to diffuse the tension but then makes herself very clear: she does not want Aqua to hurt himself and makes him promise that he won't. It's clumsy and rough in the way Kana often is, but I think the important part - her sincere care for Aqua as her friend - really does shine through.

also cute that other people caught: Kana squishing Aqua's face seems to be an intentional callback to one of their on-stage interactions in Tokyo Blade, right down to Aqua making a identical scrunchyface to Kana. Extremely cute. I love it when Aqua is cute <3

Kana also being a person able to shake Aqua out of his black hoshigans also leans into something I've been hoping is going to pay off for a while now; the idea that Aqua's salvation is not going to come from any one, singular character but from the many different people who Aqua has built relationships with coming together when he needs them to support him. One of the things OnK has continually highlighted is the way isolation and lacking support systems warp and damage people's mental health and I think it would play excellently into that theme to have Aqua's support net, so to speak, to be wide enough to catch him no matter where he falls.

the product placement was very stupid but i did laugh pretty hard at it and then immediately go buy myself some potato chips so i guess it worked. genius mangaka aka akasaka.

All jokes aside, the note their talk ended off on was so lovely too. Aqua being honest enough to admit that being with Kana is fun and Kana getting all dokidoki and then quietly admitting she feels the same when she's alone… cute! But more than that, it highlights something about the AQKN dynamic I think is really important, regardless of whether their relationship is romantic, platonic, in laws, mlm/wlw hostility or whatever else; Kana is his friend and he can just be a normal boy and have normal fun with her without any ulterior motives. It's something Aqua doesn't really have in any of his other relationships so getting a reminder of that and what it means to Aqua was really good.

honestly i think i am just so starved of nice things happening to my son that seeing him opening up to one of his friends and admitting he has fun (HIS LAUGH!!!!!!) was like a shot of heavenly ambrosia for me. please can hoshino aqua have just one nice day.

OR UH… BASED ON THAT LAST PAGE…. PROBABLY NOT ANYTIME SOON….!!!

this is what i mean about this chapter giving me 5000000 things to talk about. kamiki is TALKING TO RUBY IN THE FLESH FOR THE FIRST TIME and i almost completely forgor.

why is he dressed like a dad about to take her out on a fishing trip, though

Ruby looks unusually solemn while she's praying, which is interesting. She's been pretty bright and high energy since 141ish so I'm curious what has her looking so comparatively dour. She's praying at a shrine, too, which means there's probably something on her mind. Nik (@akane-kurokawa) theorized that she's anxious about the upcoming scenes in the movie (LIKE, YOU KNOW, HER MOM'S DEATH) and until we get further insight on that, that's what I'm gonna assume too.

putting aside how Shrimptresting it is that Kamiki turned up out of nowhere like that, I can't help but note a certain horrible parallel between Uehara meeting young Hikaru in the rain with a black umbrella and Kamiki doing the same for his daughter…

cannot wait for that entire talk to get offscreened. lol.

break next week……………………………

#oshi no ko #oshi no posting #onk spoilers #chapter reviews #csa mention

66 notes · View notes

pendarling · 11 months

Text

Redo

Death wasn't a particularly new concept to Whumper, but they may have taken it a bit further this time.

"Whumpee? Whumpee!"

Whumper dropped the hammer onto the concrete ground and knelt beside Whumpee's disjointed figure. They lay still with their eyes half-lidded and unresponsive.

"Shit."

They got up again and ran out of the room, panic growing in their chest. They couldn't risk losing Whumpee; it was just to scare them, just to torment them to get a message across-- not…

Whumper stopped their searching and found the medkit in the cabinets; there was still time. They could save them. Healing was never their best suit, but hopefully, with whatever little knowledge they had, it would suffice.

They stumbled back into the room and immediately got to work. Their hands were shaking, their pulse rapidly accelerating, and their vision was lost in the dark bruises littered all over their skin.

How was Whumpee able to take all this strain?

They should've been more careful-- Whumper wiped another blood stain across Whumpee's hips and tightly bandaged the growing pool of blood near their leg.

They'd be fine… that's right. Whumpee was able to last this long, sure they've had their moments of spiralling out of control, but physically, they would be relatively okay.

Whumper hesitantly took Whumpee's small, pale figure in as they lifted them from the hard floor. They were so nimble and cold; their face had become different now that they inspected them. Dark bags hung under their eyes, and a barely audible shuttering noise with every breath they took.

Their thoughts couldn't help but begin to feel guilty. They'd never felt so attached to someone like Whumpee before, but assuming the time spent with them had made them closer.

…

Whumpee had never felt so confused as then; the room was brighter than expected, and their eyes took a while to focus on the figure staring remorsefully across from them. A glass of liquid pouring into a cup had woken them up from their deep slumber.

Whumpee parted their dried lips slightly as if to speak but could only cough in uneven patterns. Their chest heaved right before Whumper raised their head and calmed their nerves.

"Relax, Whumpee." They pushed a glass of water to their lips. The chilling drink imprinted inside of them.

The other set them down cautiously onto the pillow and blinked a few more times when they heard a glass set down next to their head, a nightstand, they suspected. Where were they?

Whumper tilted their head at Whumpee's expression. It was only natural they'd respond so confused; after all, they'd never been let out of the basement before, not even so far as upstairs.

They watched as Whumpee's eyes drifted back to Whumper. Something unfamiliar etched across their face as soon as the palm of their hand met their forehead.

"I knew you could make it." finally, a sigh of relief.

"I'm sorry. Do I know you?"

Whumper froze in their spot, and for a second, just a minute… they thought-- could they start over? This would be their chance. But then again, wouldn't it be unethical? They certainly wouldn't want to scare Whumpee and revive those traumas, primarily since they've only recently understood that maybe Whumpee was worth keeping.

There wasn't anyone else in this world who they'd been insistent on keeping for so long. There wasn't even the tiniest hint of interest in anyone else; no one could entertain them like Whumpee could… or did. Their entertainment, of course, had changed, and now all they could think about was how to fix their dreadful mistake.

It was all too much; they couldn't do this. No.

"Whumpee, what are you saying? You know me."

An empty stare was all they received, but truly, in all their honesty, Whumpee had tried to recollect any memories at all.

"I didn't-- I mean, there's no way you hit your head this hard."

"I hit… my head?"

Here it comes, the lies; they couldn't stop once they started. Whumper licked their lips, creasing their brows as they cultivated their next moves.

"Yes."

Whumpee picked themselves up and scanned the homely room. "Oh."

"Don't worry. I'll care for you, Whumpee."

There it was. That smile. That unknowing gullible smile. Was this what being good felt like? It felt… new.

~~~

MASTERLIST

#whumper turned caretaker #writing prompt #wrtblr #writing blurb #whump #whumpee #whumper #whumper x whumpee #whumplr #whumperxwhumpee #whumpee x caretaker #whump community #caretaker x whumpee #angst dialogue

322 notes · View notes

farklelucas · 1 year

Text

okay so. now that ive taken some time to breathe, compose myself, and gather my thoughts, lemme lay out why the teen wolf movie was a hot holy mess (besides, you know, the obvious) as a teen wolf enthusiast and expert.

a lot of the characters were really little more than set dressing. to be specific, i think liam could have been replaced by a mailbox with a hat and the movie would have been the same (and this is coming from a major liam fan). the same can be said for mason, malia, melissa, peter, and honestly even the sheriff (which i hate bc god he was such a core of the show). i think parrish was only useful in one specific instance and even that isn't enough to warrant him being in the film. the characters i loved felt like cardboard cutouts and that wasnt fair to me, to the characters, or to the actors. i would have rather they not been there at all tbh. like just leave liam out of this if youre gonna do him like that fr

a lot of the plot points felt... disjointed and weird. saraid said it felt like three different movies in one and i have to agree. derek and eli felt like its own thing, then scott and allison, and then everything else (whatever the hell parrish and malia had going on, the lydia and jackson buddy cop comedy, liam in... japan with a ramen shop i think? and some random girlfriend that happened to be a kitsune) kind of fell to the wayside in between.

this movie was truly so flat without kira. it was hard to make a nogitsune movie without stiles, but it was almost impossible to make without her. hikari unfortunately ended up just feeling like a woman they randomly shoved into all the plot points kira was supposed to be in. because she didnt have a character besides liams girlfriend (and because liam was barely a character himself), she just couldn't compare and so kiras lack of presence was really felt. she left a huge hole in the narrative. they didnt even mention her and you knew what was missing. if you had cut khylin and dylan sprayberrys checks entirely, im sure they would have had enough to pay her as much as the rest of her white coworkers :) but that's just my opinion xxx

this was supposed to be for fans of the original series, but really just felt like jeff davis's weird rare pair fanfiction. instead of focusing on the dynamics that already existed - melissa and the sheriff, malia and peter, scott and liam, derek and. anyone really - he ended up delving into all these new dynamics with only two hours to develop them. malia and parrish (which. i really had to mentally run through the show to see if those two had interacted before and i dont think they have), liam and hikari, and derek and eli. all of which had a shot at being interesting but because there were so many different plots going on, it all just felt. awkward and confusing.

that being said, im gonna move onto derek and eli generally. i like eli! i do. i thought he was funny, i thought the actor was super charming (although the timeline made no sense because if he was born fifteen years ago And allison died fifteen years ago he would be braedens and. hate to say it folks. thats not braedens baby. make him mixed jeff davis you fucking coward). really, i liked him. ... but not at the expense of dereks character. the derek i knew was an asshole. he was mean, he was sarcastic, he was a bastard (honorifically). its not to say that people cant change, but... the derek i saw in the movie was a complete 180 from the derek we last saw in the series. honestly, the derek i saw in the series probably wouldn't have made a good parent - we saw how he was with erica, isaac, and boyd. even with scott. derek was kind of a dick. i dont even think he would have wanted kids - i think he would raise them out of duty, and i think he would if a partner wanted him to. but i dont think kids were ever in his life plan. and i think that could have been super interesting to see with him and eli. i think making him a parent could have been really interesting and it just. crumbled.

i know i mentioned the timeline in that last bit but. the timeline. it hurts my head. when was eli born. what year is it. how long has it been since scott has been in beacon hills. im so confused.

lets talk about adrian harris. shall we. i have made a list of people who i think would have been a better villain reveal are you ready: allison, peter, theo, chris argent, kate argent (resurrected), matt daehler (resurrected), victoria argent (resurrected), kira herself, danny mahealani, rafe mccall, isaac's shit dad, coach, greenberg, me with a baseball bat filled with rusty nails, jeff davis in a wig. the list goes on. you could not have picked a more random and less memorable character to reveal as your villain. i almost felt like i was being mocked. "haha! you didnt expect it to be this guy? the chemistry teacher who also died fifteen years ago? who had almost nothing to do with the plot until season 3? stupid! idiot!" i have never been so mad in my life

speaking of villain. did they forget what a nogitsune is. it needs a host. its not some guy they can stab to death. its a concept, a feeling, a parasite. its a manifestation of mental illness. but no sorry excuse me i must be wrong bc now its also a werewolf??????? im sorry. am i the crazy one. give me void allison! give me allison as the host and shes being taken over and she has those bags under her eyes and that creepy void stare and grin! give me crystal reed emmy noms! while we're on the subject, heres some more questions about the nogitsune include: why was it in a jar? why was it with LIAM of all people (who didnt even know what that was)? why did its powers completely change? HOW was it a werewolf????????? i cant stop thinking about it.

i said it once and ill say it again: jackson fucking carried this movie. he was giving all season one jackson, he was bringing comic relief, he was even bringing up ethan when no one else would! king! he carried. but he shouldn't have had to. dont get me wrong, i think crystal reed ate and left no crumbs. this was allisons movie and it should have been. but when the other two standout characters imo were jackson (who arguably did nothing) and coach (who did even less)... you simply didnt use your characters well. i think i would put deaton up there and even chris, but... scott and lydia? this should have been their movie. but scott spent nearly the whole movie ignoring his friends, and lydia was reduced to 'woman whose plot was about a man,' again. it was horrible. lydia outgrew that song and dance by season two. and scott? hasnt been to beacon hills in twelve years? hasnt seen his mom or his friends? not the scott mccall i know.

this is not about shipping discourse this post will never be about shipping discourse so i say this as a completely objective party. that being said. st/dia was so strangely shoved in there at the end. how did harris even know about lydia leaving stiles. how did he know about her dream. how did it add to the plot. like yes the nogitsune feeds of chaos and strife but i think lydia was getting enough of that watching her friends get murdered. it felt like a weird way to explain why dob wasnt there and it simply didnt work. i would have rather they not said anything about stiles at all.

anyway, this is skipping over a lot of other little things that i thought were really bad (sexualizing malia who literally had the mentality of an eight year old for most of her life AGAIN, why was mason a fucking cop, peters lack of interaction with the hale family which is what made him interesting in the first place, the absolute insanity of allison coming back to life and just being absolutely okay even though shes been dead for fifteen years, died at the hands of her friend, and almost everyone she knew including stiles, isaac, and kira are all just gone now), but boy oh boy. for a while it was funny bad. like "oh this is bad but i can still enjoy this for what it is" bad. but those last ten minutes. what is actually absolutely wrong with jeff davis. there are very few times ive felt this betrayed by tv shows i held this close to my heart, but im there. im heartbroken. i wont go on about it here, bc honestly, it would need its own post considering how much i have to say. but if the rest of the movie was bad? that was shit was traumatizing.

anyway. so sorry this post is this long, and so sorry i couldnt come back with a positive review. this show died long ago; i think we should have just let it rest - nobody asked for a reunion, and now i can see that was with good reason. so the next time jeff davis opens up an email with a header titled 'sequel idea' and he ccs tyler posey, i think we should all just agree to ler arden cho beat him to death in a dennys parking lot instead.

#long post #teen wolf #teen wolf movie #twm #personal #shut your pie hole katie

524 notes · View notes

ghoultrifle · 5 months

Text

There's a First Time For Everything Chapter 3 - Pleasure As It Was Intended

WC: 5k

Previously on FTFE: Dewdrop wants to try penetration. He has a few toys in mind but struggles to get the courage to buy them, fearing it will invalidate his gender. With Rain's support, he finally purchases the toys.

Summary: The toys arrive and Dewdrop gets to work, after a quick hyping up from Swiss

Notes: I am incredibly proud of this chapter and hope you all like it as much as I do. It's my first time writing porn with feelings so please hype me up :')

CWs: Sexual content, toys, gender dysphoria

And a big thanks to @v-ternus for being my sounding board <3

Read below the cut or on AO3

Dewdrop hears a knock, a brief rap on his bedroom door. He glances at the clock that sits crooked above his desk, mail time, he thinks. Peering through the peephole he can see Special walking away, making his way through the ghoul dorms, stopping occasionally to drop a parcel.

A small, nondescript box sits outside Dewdrop’s door. Imposing, menacing. It’s been carelessly thrown to the ground, evidenced by the rugged angle it sits at. He’s… angry. Angry that it’s been treated with such disregard; the contents of what must be assumed by Special to be another bong, or perhaps a new outfit, merely chucked outside his door like it has no significance to the fire ghoul.

The parcel quickly finds its way inside Dew’s room as he removes it from the doorstep with the same care as one might handle a bomb. He treats it like it’s a feral cat, holding it by the scruff of its neck lest it bite him. Inside the box, as far as Dewdrop’s concerned, are the items that determine if he’s worthy as a ghoul. That if they don’t end up inside him by the end of the day, he’ll be a failure.

Dewdrop decides he won’t let it get on top of him, he can’t afford to, doesn’t quite trust himself to sit alone all day with the parcel. So he throws himself into his duties. A couple of hours with Mount helping him re-pot his ever-growing plants. Lunch with Cirrus, Dewdrop laying in her lap as they watch some shitty reality show.

He spends the afternoon with Swiss, supposedly for band practice, but that never happens when it’s just the two of them scheduled. Sure, they do some practise but it’s mostly Dew dicking around with his guitar as Swiss vocalises with the disjointed sounds. They’ve been at it for a few hours when Dewdrop’s mind fades back to the parcel, still unwrapped, waiting for him on his bed.

“Howdoyouusesextoys?” Dewdrop blurts out.

Swiss isn’t sure he heard right, there’s no way Dewdrop doesn’t have a kinky treasure trove full of toys. “Woah woah slow down cowboy! What did you say?”

He’s met with another mumbled string of sounds that vaguely sounds like it mentions toys. It’s Dewdrop’s demeanour that leaves Swiss worried, though. The ghoul that minutes ago he was having to wrestle the guitar off as he played some shitty meme song, now taking shaky, uneven breaths and avoiding eye contact like Swiss is Medusa.

“Hey, droplet, I’m not teasing you, I just need to hear what you said… I can’t help you if I don’t know what you want,” Dewdrop opens his eyes, tries to take deep breaths. But deep breaths don’t help when it feels like he’s suffocating. He feels a grounding palm smooth over his stubble, sees those big golden eyes shining back with nothing but love for him, he remembers why he chose Swiss.

He inhales, looking away briefly to ask, “Bought sex toys for Rain to use on me. Dunno what to expect, I guess. Thought you might know,” the room is still as both ghouls take in what Dewdrop just said, before he remembers to clarify, “They’re uh internal toys like dildos ‘n vibrators ‘n shit. I’ve never put anything up there before, figured a whore like you would’ve though,” he chuckles, trying to lighten the mood as Swiss stares on in a mixture of confusion and offence.

“Ohh I see, come to the resident slut for advice? Well you’ve come to the right place. Whatcha worried about? We both know Rain’s been around, it’s not like he doesn’t know what to do.”

“No, I know Rain’s gonna be fine with it, it’s me that’s worried. What if it feels weird or if it hurts or if I like it so much I detransition?”

“What if?” Swiss poses, something Dewdrop hadn’t considered, what if? “You and I know full well Rain won’t do anything if you’re not enjoying it.”

“Swiss!” Dewdrop groans in frustration, dragging out the ‘s’ at the end of his name, “I just wanna, you know,” he motions vaguely at nothing with his hands, “get some pointers, some tips?”

“Well you’re right, they do have tips!” They both laugh at Swiss’ poor attempt at humour, “I do faintly remember the first time I used a dildo, if you wanna know about that?” he asks. It’s becoming clearer that Dewdrop just wants assurance that it’s going to be alright, even though he knows in his heart that it will be. The multi ghoul receives a sheepish nod in return.

“Alright, well I was on my own so all I had was ‘ol faithful to warm me up, get me nice and open,” he smirks, doing jazz hands showcasing his thick fingers, “I really took my time getting myself nice and wet. I was pre-T so there wasn’t much to get hold of but I did the best I could, really stroking myself until I was basically leaking. Then I just lubed Glenda up and put her in, wasn't much resistance. I played aroun-”

“Hold up, your dildo’s named Glenda?!”

Swiss scoffs, “What about it? I’m not the one that’s too scared to put Glenda in my pussy,” it’s all in good humour, they both know it. And hearing about Swiss talk so honestly about it has put Dewdrop at ease. He feels like he can laugh now, like he can breathe again, deep breaths full of all life has to offer. “Anyway, I played around with the angles until it hit that fucking dynamite spot, you’ll know it when you hit it,” Swiss promises, a smile creeping across his face as he reminisces, “and the rest was history. A lil bit of thrusting here and some stroking there and I came so hard I cried,” he deadpans, as if he’s not recounting a story of him masturbating.

“Seriously, spitfire, you’ll love it, I’m sure,” and it’s all Dewdrop can do to pray to Satan below that Swiss is right.

Dinner runs without a hitch, Dewdrop eats a respectable amount for a guy so nervous about his imminent gut-rearranging. And more importantly, he thinks he’s managed to keep it a secret, Rain still doesn’t know the toys have arrived. The water ghoul is living in blissful ignorance to the sweet, tender sex that will follow their usual post-dinner makeout session. That for the first time, Dewdrop will be an active recipient of pleasure, and he’ll enjoy it; at least that’s what he hopes.

It starts as it does most nights, Rain playing footsie with Dewdrop, sliding his scaly foot up and down the fire ghoul’s shin, making those dumb heart eyes at him. Dewdrop swears if Rain was a cartoon, his eyes would spend half the time booming out from their sockets in adoration for his mate, it’s endearing really. Following their adolescent flirting, Rain excuses the pair of them from the already emptying table; if the way Aurora looks at Cumulus is anything to go by, they’re not the only ones with evening plans.

They get as far as the dorm corridor before Dewdrop boxes Rain against the cold, stone wall. The taller ghoul freezes, a forward move from Dewdrop. He can’t quite bring himself to move when Dew begins to mouth at his neck, angling for Rain to bend down and kiss him. Instead he basks in the heat on his jaw as Dewdrop sinks his teeth into Rain’s pale flesh. He moans and the vibrations in his throat only further encourage the shorter ghoul.

“What’s gotten into you, spitfire? Normally you can at least wait until we’re back at yours,” Rain asks as he brings a hand down to knead at Dewdrop’s barely-there ass.

Between sucking and bruising the ghoul’s neck, Dewdrop speaks up, “Hyping myself up.”

“For…?”

“Toys,” Dewdrop whispers, seductive yet laced with a tinge of worry.

Before leaving that morning, Dewdrop had the foresight to at least unpackage and clean the toys, even he was smart enough to know that cleaning toys is a real mood killer, especially for a ghoul already on edge about the whole thing. If there was anything that Dewdrop could prepare for in advance, he was going to do it.

So, laying bare to the world on his bedside table were the toys, sitting proud. Rain didn’t notice them immediately, too focused on the fire ghoul attached to his neck, trying to manoeuvre them into Dewdrop’s room without either of them tripping or stepping on each other. They catch his eye as his mate backs him up towards the bed until his knees give, ungracefully stumbling onto the mattress. Hurried hands fly between them to undress each other. Dewdrop’s fingers filled with nervous energy, struggling with his jeans and Rain, the ever helpful boyfriend gently undoing the button and sliding them down, taking in Dewdrop’s form, just a binder and boxer briefs now. “Fuck he’s handsome,” Rain thinks, verbalising his thoughts to the grinning ghoul above him.

“Wanna use ‘em on me? Was thinking get the dildo out the way tonight?”

“Fuck can’t wait baby, gonna make you feel so good. How do you want to do this?”

Dewdrop answers with a gentle push to Rain’s shoulders, settling him down in the middle of the bed before shedding his underwear and climbing atop the water ghoul, back to chest. The weight of Dewdrop is really nothing to complain about, spread over Rain’s body, it’s barely uncomfortable, more of a weighted blanket if he had to compare it. Besides, if it’s what his droplet wants, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t give him exactly that.

With him, Dewdrop brings the toys, laying them carefully by Rain’s hip alongside a bottle of lube. Once settled, he takes a moment. What for, he isn’t really sure. Maybe to calm himself down, but he feels an odd sense of relief, of readiness. He isn’t scared anymore. He wants it to happen, he’s excited even. Perhaps that’s why he’s slowed down, to appreciate and bask in the feeling.

As he lays on Rain, his golden hair resting perfectly on the water ghoul’s neck, Rain lifts his head up to meet Dewdrop’s scalp pressing long kisses into it. “So proud of you baby,” he whispers between them, hand idly thumbing the silicone toy by his side. Rain was truly happy with the idea that Dewdrop would never try penetration, he was content to live out their lives as they were. With that, he could sense Dewdrop’s hesitation, how he became disengaged during sex if Rain’s hand ever veered too low. But the way he acted didn’t seem to be fear, no, Dewdrop’s face would turn pensive, as if he were pondering what if? A poignant question the fire ghoul now knew the answer to. Well perhaps not the answer, but he’s certain he’s explored his feelings enough to know he wants it and he wants it now.

The binder still clinging to his chest is becoming uncomfortable at best with how Dewdrop’s sweating at Rain’s sweet words of encouragement and that familiar cold hand roaming his stomach. It’s itchy and riding up at the bottom but he doesn’t care, he’s too caught up in the moment, something he doesn’t think he’s ever experienced. To not be hyper aware of every sensation but instead to be dialled in on a specific feeling, it’s bliss.

Against him, Dewdrop can feel Rain pulsing, leaking onto the small tuft of hair at the small of his back. It feels odd, to be the one selflessly experiencing pleasure, Rain gladly putting aside his own needs in favour of pleasing his mate.

“My sweet baby boy, I can feel you leaking, may I?” Rain asks, bringing deft fingers to Dewdrop’s entrance, hovering, waiting for permission. Dewdrop need only bring his hand over Rain’s before the water ghoul gently swipes over his folds, bringing his slick-soaked hand to his mouth. “Oh Dewdrop you taste divine. Thank you for sharing this part of you with me.”

It’s not even an attempt at dirty talk but it makes Dewdrop’s stomach jump nonetheless. He’s finally starting to believe Rain loves him as he is. While Rain is preoccupied salivating over the taste of the fire ghoul, Dewdrop flicks open the cap on the lube as he squirts a generous amount onto the head of the light purple toy

“Would you do the honour?” Dewdrop asks weakly, offering the slicked up toy to the water ghoul.

“Want to let you have this moment Dewdrop,” Rain replies, this is Dewdrop’s journey, he’s just along for the ride. Dewdrop teases his entrance, letting the purple head get even wetter as he drags it along his folds, collecting slick as small whines escape his lips. It once again surprises him how at ease he feels. After years of turmoil, worrying that he’s faking it all, he’s never felt as sure of his identity as he does in this moment.

“Whenever you’re ready droplet”, Rain coos, placing chaste kisses on Dewdrop’s neck. And with that Dew pushes in, slowly but steadily moving the toy until his hand lies flush with his skin. It’s an odd feeling, a completely new, foreign sensation but it doesn’t feel wrong. Far from it. It brings with it an overwhelming sense of familiarity too, an instinctual need. He knows exactly what to do. It’s not rocket science, Dewdrop knows this, but he’s still taken aback by just how easy it feels. It’s with that realisation he cautiously begins to pump the cock in and out of his dripping cunt.

As Dewdrop lay atop Rain, knees bent and feet planted on the mattress, the fire ghoul finds a respectable rhythm, butterflies in his stomach every time he thrusts the silicone deep inside him. He can’t believe he’s put it off for so long, denying himself divine pleasure. Filling the room along with the slick sounds of Dewdrop fucking himself are the sweet words of encouragement spilling from Rain’s lips like a burst dam.

“So proud of you, droplet, can hear just how much you like it.”

“That’s it, keep going, fuckkkk just like that.”

“Feel how hard you’re making me? Shit- that’s all you, spitfire. You and your insatiable body, such a good boy.”

The words imprint themselves on Dewdrop’s brain, burned in forever. Rain’s not telling him how pretty he is or groping his chest, he’s appreciating Dewdrop for exactly who he is, a man. And for once, he’s not jealous that Rain has a dick, doesn’t spite him for it. Because he, too, is experiencing pleasure and he got it all wrong, he doesn’t need a penis for that. Sure it would be nice but right now he feels pretty fucking incredible. Rain’s words have such an effect on Dewdrop that he’s becoming too worked up to keep a steady rhythm, the stimulation is too much to concentrate on keeping it going. He crooks his head back, asking silently, and Rain just knows what he wants.

The dildo changes hands, Rain now in charge of Dewdrop’s pleasure, entrusted with making the fire ghoul feel good, and boy does he deliver. Pressing pretty kisses to Dewdrop’s neck, his hand fumbles for the toy. The transition is near seamless and Dew melts. It felt good before but shit Rain knows what he’s doing, angling it just right to make Dewdrop cry out a choked moan- Swiss was right, Dew did know when he hit that spot. The spot that makes his stomach churn in the best way as he listens to the slick nosies and the sound of Rain’s skin slapping against his inner thigh as he pumps Dewdrop full.

He’s writhing on Rain’s tense body now, hips canting towards the stimulation, rocking into the water ghoul’s cock, smearing pre against the small of his back. Dewdrop can’t bring himself to care about the torture he must be inflicting upon his mate. He’s been so selfless all these years, he’s giving himself tonight to be completely selfish about his needs.

His orgasm starts to build and he vocalises, “Oh fuck I- I think I’m close fuck please don’t stop. Please. Keep going. Fuck. Rain. Ah. Keep-” Rain shushes him to give his permission. Not that Dewdrop needed it, but to let the fire ghoul know Rain’s not going anywhere.

“Lean into it darling, let go for me. Such a good boy, taking it so well. So proud of you, baby,” and with those words Dewdrop is clenching around the toy as his cunt spasms and he whines high and reedy, uncaring about pitching his voice lower, he doesn’t need to perform for anyone, not right now, anyway. Rain can feel Dewdrop’s release coating the toy in such copious amounts it’s running off and onto the water ghoul’s digits.

Dripping onto his balls, Rain can feel just how wet Dewdrop is as slick gushes out of his hole. Rain wants nothing more than to gather his boy’s slick and jack himself to an almighty climax, but not tonight. There’ll be plenty of nights for that to happen. Tonight is all about Dewdrop. Rain would truly be happy to never cum again if it meant Dewdrop could finally live in pleasure instead of pain. Rain’s had his good times, he’s lived his life; Dewdrop’s is only just starting.

Dewdrop’s still in a state of awe. He did it. He got off. On just internal stimulation. A feat he truly never believed he’d be able to do, despite his years-long curiosity about it (okay, the base of the dildo relentlessly hitting his clit might have been part of it, but still, it’s all connected, right?). As he comes down from the first high of the night, Rain babbles nothing but praise, eager for his love not to drop after such an intense high. He knows how easy it would be- post nut clarity is no joke and Dewdrop’s worked himself up about this so much, it wouldn’t take a lot for him to spiral. To feel that shame creeping up, enveloping him in a thick coat of inescapable humiliation at him, a man, enjoying being fucked like a woman. So Rain doesn’t let it happen, showering him with enough praise to make anyone blush, rocking his dick against Dewdrop every so often to remind him that he’s desirable.

Hair sticks to Dewdrop’s face as he pants, still overcome with euphoria from the intensity of his orgasm. He suddenly feels himself clenching around nothing, opening his eyes to see the toy in Rain’s hand. Fuck- it’s dripping in cum and oh Rain’s bringing it up towards them, past Dewdrop’s face and he’s moaning as he takes it hungrily in his mouth, to the hilt, moaning into it. “Wanted to test the theory it taste even sweeter after the event, my love,”

“And…?” Dewdrop probes.

“What do you think, droplet?” The water ghoul smirks, brining the toy to Dewdrop’s swollen lips, “See for yourself.”

A tentative tongue makes its way to the tip of the dildo giving an exploratory lick. It’s not nice per se but there’s something about being able to taste his own release that makes it that much nicer. Still, he’s not sure it tastes divine but perhaps Rain is really that in love with him.

“Ready for round two?” Dewdrop questioned, a grin adorning his blissed out face.

“Fuck- really? Anything for you, Dewdrop. How do you want it? Want me to pump you full again, or I could eat you out? Perhaps you-”

“-m not ready for you to touch me there yet I don’t think, sorry,” he blurts out and Rain’s heart sinks. Not at Dewdrop’s sentiment but that he feels sorry for it.

“My spitfire, that’s more than okay. You don’t ever have to be ready, this is already more than I ever imagined we’d do together. Satan, I’m so lucky to have you. Want to try the vibe instead?”

And just like that, Dewdrop’s inspecting the vibrator, hands travelling over the plane of the toy, feeling the ridges before testing the mechanism. Slowly twisting the dial at the bottom, wondering if it’s broken until- buzz. It’s intense, the blood being drained from his fingers as the toy throbs in his hand.

“Easy, Dewbug, we’ll start off slow and build up to that. Trust me, I know what I’m doing,” and Dewdrop does trust him. It’s finally sinking in that Rain truly does have Dewdrop’s best interests at heart.

Dewdrop spreads his legs once more, cool air hitting his clit despite it being almost hidden beneath his curls. He clenches on instinct, cringing when he feels another glob of his release make its way to the pool collecting on Rain’s lithe body. It surprises him. He doesn’t feel disgust or shame at his body’s response to the fucking incredible action of Rain’s hand, he feels proud he was able to cum for Rain, to be a good boy.

“Fuck baby, still leaking, huh? So good for me,” Rain whispers.

With that, Dewdrop hears the familiar rumble of the vibrator. A sleek, black thing, phallic in size but not in aesthetic. The mechanical whir fills the room, though it’s not as overbearing as when Dewdrop cranked the dial all the way, it’s a more subtle hum.

Rain hesitates, bringing a hand up to rest on Dewdrop’s stomach, “Droplet, can I touch you?” he asks.

“You just fucked me silly with a dildo, of course you can do it with the vibe,” Dewdrop replies, enamoured by his mate but slightly confused nonetheless.

“I mean- your uhm chest, Dewdrop. Want to feel your heart beat as I take you apart.”

He ponders, the purr of the motor a backdrop to his thoughts. It’s not like Rain would see his chest, or even really feel it, hidden behind the thick wall of his binder. And thinking about it, even if he did, Dewdrop’s not sure he’d mind. Rain’s carved out their time together as a place for Dewdrop to truly be himself. The offer has always been there to not bind, to raise his voice back to its natural pitch, Rain made it unequivocally clear that he doesn’t mind. But Dewdrop always has, until now.

A small nod accompanied with a hushed yes is all Rain needs to start. After years of spending almost every waking moment together, Rain knows when his mate is being sincere. Enthusiastic consent is the only consent is a great general rule but their connection goes deeper. The non-verbal signs, the way Dewdrop’s breathing steadies when he feels safe and his eyes search for Rain’s to ground himself. The way his eyes scrunch and his lips curl up almost imperceptibly when he’s around Rain. It’s not apprehension, it’s nervous excitement about experiencing yet another new sensation, even if it is through the plate of his binder. And Dewdrop knows Rain would never go further than he wants, not without explicitly asking. So he lies there safe in the knowledge that creeping fingers won’t find their way under the hem of his binder, but will freely roam atop it, mapping out Dewdrop’s contours.

Whimpers accompany Rain’s renewed movement, vibrator making feather light touches to Dewdrop’s dick as his other hand plants itself over the fire ghoul’s chest, the wide span covering him almost entirely. It’s like being jacked off by The Flash, the plastic beating down on his clit with an unrelenting pace while Rain keeps his hand steady, letting the toy do all the work. Moans fill the room as Dewdrop squirms atop Rain.

“Does it feel good, baby? Yeah? Keep making those noises for me, fuck.”

All the apprehension, the years of turmoil, only for Dewdrop to be a whimpering, writhing mess within an hour of getting his (and Rain’s) hands on himself. It’s funny really, in hindsight. And he’s glad he can finally indulge himself in these fantasies, that his mind allows him to enjoy himself.

With that thought, Rain’s deft hand cranks the dial, the buzz turning to a roar as the vibrator near shakes under Rain’s digits. Bringing it back down to Dewdrop’s clit, the fire ghoul shouts, “Oh fuck Rainy- shit- I- awgh- so much- I,” he’s trembling under Rain’s touch, hips bucking into the vibe, desperate to get off on the stimulation that’s both far too much and not enough.

The hand on Dewdrop’s chest begins to roam, firm touches tracing his body, committing it to memory. The first time of many, Rain’s sure, if the wanton moans leaving Dewdrop’s lips are any measure to go by. His hands brush over the light smattering of hair on Dew’s stomach and Satan below Rain wants to worship Dewdrop’s body forever, remind him each and every time just how fucking hot he is. It would be an endless back and forth of Rain smothering him in compliments and Dewdrop not believing a word. But perhaps with enough time, he’d come around.

Rain’s hands continue their ministrations as the squirming ghoul above him becomes louder with each circle of the vibrator around his dick. The water ghoul is just about to check in when Dewdrop interrupts him, “Close! Ah- shit- I’m about to cum- please- don’t stop- just like th- ahh fuck,” he hisses. It only spurs Rain on, increasing the pressure and finally turning the vibe up to the maximum intensity. Drawing circles around his clit, occasionally dipping below to gather Dewdrop’s pre and cum from his first orgasm. The slick noises that fill the room, combined with the insane amount of stimulation Dewdrop’s receiving, have him spilling almost instantly with a cry, “-m cumming, fuck Rainy thankyouthankyouthankyou fucking ahh.”

A minute passes, at most, before Rain is turning down the dial and smoothing his hand over Dewdrop’s binder, fixing it’s twisted state on his chest. Sure that his mate is finally satiated, now is definitely the time to make sure his mental state doesn’t drop in that post-orgasm haze. Cum-drunk is the best way to describe Dew, a wide smile on his face, eyes barely open, and chest heaving as he recovers from one of, if not the most, intense orgasms of his life.

“How are you feeling, droplet? You were so good, took it all so well.”

“I feel… like I want to go again. Want you to fill me up, fuck, that was so hot. I think I said it a moment ago but thank you for indulging me Rainy, there’s no one I’d rather pump me with a toy,” he finishes with a kiss blown to his mate.

Rain giggles at Dew’s sentiment, ever the romantic, “Maybe not tonight, sweetheart, already gone stiff, not sure I could guide you through another orgasm. And wouldn’t want you getting greedy, hmm?” He jokes.

Stiff, Dewdrop thinks, shifting in place to confirm his suspicion, shit he’s still hard. “Wait, don’t you want to get off? Only feels right after what you gave me.”

“I’ll be fine, handsome, there’s always tomorrow.”

An idea worms its way inside Dewdrop’s mind, “We could use the vibe, could jack you off, make you fuck my fist?”

And how could Rain so no to his puppy-eyed boyfriend and his incredulously horny suggestion. Dewdrop sits up, kneeling over Rain’s legs. Vibrator in hand, he starts it up and closes his fist around Rain’s weeping cock. Rain shudders at the sensation, at finally having something more than the friction against the small of Dewdrop’s back. It’s intense, the fire ghoul wasting no time in jacking the vibe up to the maximum setting, hell bent on just getting Rain off, and he isn’t complaining. “Oh Dewdrop I love you so much, fuck- don’t know what I’d do without you in my life- ahhh keep going, ‘m already close,”

“Aww baby, can’t keep going just a little longer? No? I don’t blame you, the show I put on was fucking hot, wasn’t it?”

All Rain can do is nod fervently in response to Dewdrop’s questions. His ruddy head sliding through the fire ghoul’s slick hand, sliding up against the hard plastic of the vibrator. The mix of hot and cold drives him crazy as he utters more confessions of love to his mate. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s said it, but it feels so much more real, knowing he’s seen this vulnerable side of Dewdrop. The smaller ghoul always feared that if he let this side of himself be seen, he’d be left, upset and alone for eternity. Seeing that Rain still loves him after tonight, well fuck if that doesn’t encourage him to make Rain scream his name.

“Wanna hear you,” he mutters.

“Oh yeah, baby? What do you want to hear? You’re being such a good boy for me, gonna bust all over your hand.”

“Want you to say my name,” Dewdrop says, unsure if it’s a question or a statement, but Rain knows exactly what to do.

Dewdrop braces himself on Rain’s chest and the heat of his palm pushes Rain over the edge, “Oh Dew, fuck you treat me so well my Dewdrop, I fucking love you, don’t you ever forget it,” he cries out to anyone who could be listening, and he’s sure there are people getting their fix on the sounds emanating from the room. Dewdrop keeps his hand steady as ever, watching Rain’s cock spurt thick white ropes, seemingly endlessly, twitching as the water ghoul cants his hips with an ever waning intensity.

“Fuck, I love you too, Rain.”

And Dewdrop means it with no hesitation. He’s not sure any other person could have made tonight as incredible as Rain has. He’ll never understand what he did for Satan to reward him like this, but he doesn’t need to know, just having Rain is enough.

#trifle writes #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #the band ghost fanfiction #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #trans ghouls #raindrop #cw dysphoria #spicy tag

100 notes · View notes

denaliwrites · 6 months

Text

Never Fallen From Quite This High

Martin Whitly x GN!Reader

Catch and Release Prompt: "Loyalty"

Summary: You didn't mean for this to happen... but you couldn't let him hurt Martin.

Soundtrack: Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish

Requests: Open!

Warnings: Murder.

"Oh, my dear," Martin says softly as he creeps closer to you. He's keeping his voice quiet and his body low so as not to startle you, though you can't quite figure out why. You've been sat on your haunches now for what feels like hours. "What have you done?"

The question confuses you. He seemingly notices this, as he releases a quiet, placating shushing sound, almost as if by instinct. "It's okay," he tells you gently, shuffling ever closer. "You're okay."

Finally he reaches you, kneels down in front of you and takes your hands in his. It's only then, as he pries it from your fingers, that you realize you'd been holding a knife. "That's it," he murmurs, giving you a small, tense smile. "There you go." He drops it far from your reach, somewhere behind him where you can't see it. See the dried blood coating it.

"Hey, now," he coos, as he carefully manipulates your head, tilting it this way and that. "Look at me, darling?" His eyes are concerned, examining you like he thinks he'll suddenly find a grievous injury. But you're unharmed.

Next, he shifts your head so that you're facing him directly, and he's looking into your eyes, but you can see there's little emotion there. His mind is purely medical at the moment.

"Traumatic shock," he says to himself as his gaze dances from one eye to the other, noting the vacant look and blown pupils. "Darling, can you hear me?"

"H-he--"

"Ssshh, darling. Simple answers for now. Yes or no. Please."

"He--he was--he--"

Martin sighs as you babble. You struggle to get the words out, and he simply watches you with concern as disjointed syllables spill from your lips, until you finally string them all together and say, "he was going to kill you."

He looks down, taking note of the bloody body he'd had to step over to get to you. When he turns back to look at you, his eyes are softer. "Darling," he sighs, pulling you forward to place a gentle kiss to your bloodstained forehead. "You know I'd never let that happen."

"H-he -- he was... he was gonna kill you," you insist, voice raising, tinted with building panic.

Martin pulls you into a kiss, his lips crushing yours and stealing your breath and chasing away all other thoughts. Any words you're about to release in a torrential flood are diverted, lost to those devastating lips.

The kiss is the shock you need to bring you back -- at least, enough to really see him. To remember where you are, what you've done. Your eyes trail down to the body as Martin holds you close, one hand at the back of your neck and the other stroking your hair.

"I-I-I--" you stammer, tears springing to your eyes as you look down.

"Sssshhh," he hushes you gently, his hold on you tightening.

"I killed -- M-Martin, I killed someone..."

"I know, darling," he whispers in your ear. "I know. Don't worry. I'm here now."

You whimper, burying your face into his shoulder so that you can't see the corpse anymore.

"I'll take care of it," Martin continues, his hand now working to rub comforting circles into your back. "I'll make sure that you were never here, understand?"

#martin whitly x reader #martin whitly x you #prodigal son fic #prodigal son fanfiction #michael sheen #catch and release prompt

86 notes · View notes

bellatrixobsessed1 · 6 months

Text

Messy/Jumbled Thoughts On Azula in the Spirit Temple

Obviously my initial reaction to it was not particularly glowing and excited to say the least. But after some discord chatting and discussion with my IRL friend I have come to conclude very solidly that I have no idea how to feel about this one. And I'm genuinely not sure if Hicks was trying to make Azula sympathetic or trying to make her completely irredeemable.

So one of the things that makes it confusing to me is how Azula declares that she does not want redemption because it is for the weak. And how she chooses to end by saying that she'd just find new followers to control. Off the bat to me that just felt like a nail in the coffin. A solid she's not getting redeemed.

But then my IRL friend pointed out that she started the comic by declaring that she was going to take revenge on her ex-companions. But ended up finding them and choosing to leave them alone instead.

To me this kind of felt like a massive cope on Azula's end like the equivelent of "fine, I didn't need you guys anyways! I'll find new *~better~* friends!" Like a way of masking how upset it made her to see them having fun without her. Or that she's in denial about how much it hurts.

But my IRL friend thinks that her choosing to just let them be is a sign that there was some progress made despite her declaring that she didn't want redemption.

Which leads to some of the discord discussion that I found insightful. Someone (let me know if you want me to name you) pointed out that pretty much all of the comic was the spirit showing Azula her own inner thoughts; in other words Azula was calling herself a monster and a bad person and what not.

Which, honestly, could be why the comic felt so confusing and disjointed??? Azula is confused and conflicted and we're seeing this through her eyes so it's conflicting and disjointed.

Azula has enough awareness to know that she's not a good person and that some stuff is her fault but she also acknowledges that she's not entirely to blame. I'm talking about 'Ursa' asking Azula what she is and Azula responding "alone, betrayed over and over..." and declaring that it's basically not her fault vs 'Mai' saying "maybe you're a terrible person who gets what she deserves."

Baring in mind that this is a manifestation of Azula's thoughts; she simultaneously sees herself as a victim and as a bad person.

And honestly I can actually see that making sense; people tend to be their own harshest critics. All abuse cases are different but many abuse victims blame themselves while also acknowledging that the abuser is to blame at the same time.

I feel like it's actually not entirely off base for someone in Azula's situations to have conflicting thoughts. Facing yourself for who you are, including (and especially) the worst parts of yourself is not easy. It is embarrassing even in ones own mind to admit wrongdoing. Almost everyone has that one embarrassing memory that still makes them blush when they remember it while lying alone at 2AM. It's sort of like that but worse. It is hard to put aside pride and ego even in privet. Now try doing that with a spirit watching and judging you.

Azula is facing down the worst parts of herself in an almost physical sense. And I think that she doesn't know who to blame or how to portion out the blame. Like she has difficulty telling how much of it is her fault vs how she was raised. Out of her mouth is all of the stuff about how its everyone else's fault. But then the manifestations of her thoughts say the exact opposite. She is literally at war with herself.

And she's scared and she lashes out when she's scared. She covers fear and insecurity with either anger or nonchalance. So when 'Zuko' asks her to repent so to speak, of course she says no. She's effectively being backed into a corner. She's on the defensive. And also 'Zuko' has taken on a monstrous and terrifying form. I wouldn't not shoot lightning at that.

Not to mention that, the entire time Azula is talking about how the spirit is manipulating her and that none of it is real. I imagine that, that makes it that much harder to face herself because she's effectively being gaslit in a sense. Like it doesn't feel real to her, she doesn't trust it--rightfully so tbh. She says that she thinks she is being lied to. Of course she isn't being open minded to what she is being shown. It isn't being done in good faith.

I think that my biggest hang up is how she was 'offered redemption'. Putting that in air quotes because was that really a chance at redemption? The spirit didn't put her in a situation conducive to meaningful change. To me it was almost just one more added trauma on top of what she was already dealing with. It's basically similar to Azula going to see a therapist but the therapist is terrible at their job and digs up trauma while offering no coping skills nor advice.

Instead of giving her advice or support this spirit tries to terrify/shock Azula into changing. This spirit put Azula massively on the defense and wondered why she was getting defensive. Literally all of her traumas, fears, and triggers were being thrown in her face and she was supposed to make something of it?

I'm no therapist but I'm pretty sure that that's not how change works.

Azula was getting yelled at and shamed for not wanting to change or acknowledge that she needs to. But the spirit who was trying to 'help' didn't give her ANYTHING to work with. No words of encouragement or coping tools. Nothing but showing her things that terrified and upset her.

It's like trying to teach someone who is afraid of water to swim by throwing them into the ocean and getting mad when (after being pulled out of the water) they come out more terrified than they were prior.

And this is what confuses me about how AitST is supposed to be interpreted. Are we supposed to see the spirit as the asshole or Azula as stubborn? I know how I see it, but how did Hicks intend it to be portrayed?

This was supposed to be the 'see if Azula is going to start her redemption path once and for all' comic. But was she TRUELY even offered a redemption? Because I don't think so. To me that was just Azula getting another layer of trauma to work through. And nothing about that situation she was in could even be remotely conducive to meaningful/long term change.

Speaking on my own experience alone; change and habit breaking, becoming one's best self while facing down their worst requires a few things; comfort, encouragement, support, enthusiasm, and stability.

Azula was terrified, alone, uncomforted, antagonized, and cornered. She was in a setting exactly the opposite of what is needed when someone is trying to make a change or do some hard introspection.

And now I'm left wondering if Hicks meant for the spirit to be seen as the asshole or if the comic was trying to say, 'look she chose not to walk the path to redemption.'

Right now it feels like they're gonna take the easy way out and leave her as the villain and point to the comic and say, 'see, she had her chance.' To which I say, "Did she? Did she actually?" But who knows maybe we are supposed to see that spirit as an unhelpful and evil. Maybe her walking away and not taking the vengeance she vowed is a good sign.

TL;DR: How the hell is this even supposed to be interpreted. What is the tone??? Is this Azula sympathetic or anti-Azula. Because I genuinely can't tell.

Never have I been so confused about a thing I have read.

#avatar the last airbender #azula #azula in the spirit temple #azula meta #spoilers

78 notes · View notes

featherandferns · 11 months

Note

JJ smut with prompt 19 plsss

19. Make me.

Hi lovely! Sorry for the delay and thank you for your patience! This is a little short but I hope you like it <3

Content warnings: sexual content

storeroom - prompt 19

“You’re such an asshole!” you seethe at JJ.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, petty to the max. “And you aren’t?”

“Why can’t you take your job seriously?” you hiss. “They’re actually paying a decent wage and folks here are paying a lotta money for a decent meal, and you’re slacking on the job.”

“You’re not my fucking manager, okay?” JJ snarls, stalking towards you. “You don’t getta tell me what to do and what not to do. You’re a waitress, alright? So you better pucker up princess and pull the stick from out of your ass.”

“Watch your fucking mouth blondie,” you spit.

You square up to him as if you could lay him out in a second on the storeroom floor. Clearly sending the two of you to top up on supplies for the function tomorrow, after hours, wasn’t the smartest move from your supervisor.

JJ Maybank was a dickhead. He seemed to know which buttons to push with you to have you foaming at the mouth and blowing steam out your ears. He seemed to enjoy pushing them too. Did so until you were at your breaking point with him and his stupid face.

“What? You want me to stop putting you in your place?”

“I want you to stop talking full-stop, so I can get maybe a moment of peace in this Goddamn restaurant,” you bite back.

JJ smirks, cold and cruel. “Oh yeah? Make me, princess.”

You glower at his face. His stupid, handsome, gorgeous face.

You can’t say why, or when, or even how, but you and JJ are suddenly kissing. He seems taken aback, stumbling forward, pushing your back against the precariously balanced boxes of napkins and tea lights. Pulling back, eyes wide and mouth somewhat agape in shock, you and JJ regard each other a moment. Eyes flicking over features; breathing heavy and disjointed. There’s a moment where you both seem to debate whether or not this is the right thing; debate saying this out loud; then simultaneously agree on one common thought. Fuck it. You’d always thought JJ was kind of attractive. Well, more than kind of, but there was no way in hell you’d ever tell him so.

The make-out that follows is filthy and messy and confusing. JJ ends up with his back against the wall with you pressing against him. You both groan as his hard-on rocks against your crotch.

“This is a bad idea,” JJ says. His hand creeps under your shirt, messing to undo your bra.

“Definitely,” you pant. Your eyes are fixated on his lips and you can’t help but kiss him again, sinking your teeth leisurely into his lower lip for just a second.

“Fuck,” JJ groans. He yanks your shirt over your head and you shuck off your unfastened bra. Impatient, JJ palms at your breasts. The fact that both of you are on the clock, in the restaurant’s storeroom seems to be of no concern to either of you. “We should probably stop.”

“Probably,” you mumble. You unzip the fly of his work pants (they’re so fucking tight on him it’s almost criminal how good they make him look) and slip a hand hastily into his boxers. JJ stammers out a moan as you rub at his erection. Something shoots through you, be it attraction or hate. The two lay on a thin line.

“I don’t even like you,” JJ stammers.

You look up at him with that. Hooded eyes and swollen lips, he’s rosy cheeked and overtly horny. Squeezing at the head, making him moan, you can’t help but smirk.

“You sure about that, blondie?”

JJ stares down at you. His white button-up is still fastened and it’s unfair. You want to see him – all of him. Nobody should be allowed to be this attractive and this much of an asshole. The world is full of cruelties.

You continue working him with your hand, grinning malevolently when you feel him throb under your hold, already getting close. Men are so fucking simple.

JJ sighs. There’s a twitch of a grin to his lips, mirroring yours, and there’s this thrilling, terrifying thought that comes to your mind as he takes you in, like a predator observing its prey.

He’s going to wreck me.

#jj #jj maybank #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj drabble #jj maybank drabble #jj x reader drabble #jj maybank x reader drabble #drabbles #prompts #19 #obx #obx drabbles #outer banks #outer banks drabbles #obx fic #outer banks fic

183 notes · View notes

an-au-blog · 6 months

Note

Got confused about the timeline you set up with Luffy meeting Buggy in the kidnapped au, accidentally made up an au of an au:

Buggy somehow escaping his capturers before Shanks ever even gets to him (added horror just imagine Shanks hearing about his friend being kidnapped, only to find the place he’s been taken to already in shambles and the only clue as to Buggy ever being there being a heavily damaged cage with seasstone cuffs in an equally damaged room…) , he still suffers from memory loss and a bunch of trauma and goes into hiding for a long time, until Luffy stumbles upon him at the start of his journey completly by accident. Buggy sees the hat, has the First disjointed flashes of his past that aren’t a total nightmare for once and for some reason… he needs to protect this dumbass kid. He NEEDS to protect this dumbass kid. He justifies it as only trying to get his memories back and to get a clue as to why everyone seems to be after him at first, in typical Buggy manner, thinking of himself first and foremost, but it’s obvious to anyone with eyes that he not only sees… something in Luffy he can’t quite explain, but that he also truly comes to care for that little brat after a while and that he does enjoy being part of a crew a lot and somehow seems to just be inherently good at sailing the seas and being a pirate for some reason. Huh. Whatever could that be?

Of course this would culminate with Shanks one day being confronted with the kid he put all his faith into living up to that faith absolutely splendidly… and then one day being face to face with his old friend, that he had lost twice and thought dead, again. Buggy just comes face to face with someone hes never seen but somehow still remembers.

On a fucking lighter note for once, imagine Shanks desperately trying to jog Buggys memory and Buggy being horrified at this stranger being all up in his face until there is a tiny spark in his mind “… You…I remember..” Shanks face lighting up with obvious delight “YES!? Come on I know there’s something in there!” Buggys shaking hands reaching up towards Shanks face while his eyes fill with realization and Shanks dares not to breathe. “You…”

Buggys hands suddenly grab Shanks neck without warning, squeezing hard and shaking him violently “YOURE THAT DANG IDIOT THAT MADE ME EAT THAT FRUIT! I’LL KILL YOU YOU SONNOFFA-“ Strawhats struggling to hold their demented clown uncle back from mauling Shanks, while Buggy just goes absolutely ham and cusses at “THAT GODDAMN REDHAIRED BASTARD!”. The latter just has a sobbing laughing fit. May not be the most flattering memory to come back first, but hey, it’s a start.

Omg I am going to die for u, I love you so much this isn't even a joke. Having an au of anything (even if it's because I didn't explain my thought process) I've written fills me with just so much joy :')

My original though process was more of a "they land the ship somewhere (or something) Buggy wanders off, or is left to rest but decides to look for them and gets lost, and accidentally stumbles into Luffy.

But I love your version! And the more I think about it, if he met Luffy in the early early beginning and was there for the Mihawk-Zoro fight, Mohawk going back to tell Shanks about the straw hats and mentioning a clown with them would make great plot development. Because Buggy following Luffy around I feel like he'd be almost an official member after an arc's worth time. Not to mention Luffy's tendency to take in traumatized souls and give them a reason to keep living (and God knows Buggy desperately needs one). And Shanks just following breadcrumbs to find Luffy like "Have you seen this boy?" and holding up his poster, most people would be too terrified that one of the emperors to answer. Plus why would he is look for a rookie pirate??? And he's always a step behind, but always hears the crazy stunts Luffy pulls and how many near-death experiences he's had and it just adds to the stress. Pride... but also stress.

Or even if he joins a bit later I think it'd be funny if he had a Usopp photobomb moment, just being there in the background in one of the others' posters, you know?

Also this may be a hot take but I think this version of Buggy would get along with Robin. Because they're both packing some serious childhood trauma and have lived most of their life either being hunted or being tortured. They both have (or used to have) suicidal tendencies... idk I think it'd be a cute friendship.

OH! Bonus: I already love Usopp endlessly and how he just bullshits his way out of almost anything and I could love it if there was two silly cremates that keep accidentally winning. They'd also have a nice bond imo because they're also both depressed and Usopp would have someone else to tell his tall tales to. Buggy would probably believe them all because he's literally been living underground his entire adult life.

#shuggy #kidnapped au #shuggy au #shanks x buggy #op #answers

123 notes · View notes

frenchfrywrites · 1 year

Text

Aroused

MINORS DNI

warnings: amab gn dom top reader, trans pregnant bratty bottom Belphegor, pregnancy kink, lactation, some daddy kink, spit kink, spit as lube, dacryphilia, reference to somnophilia, fem terms used

Again, sorry this took me 1million years to post, but thank you @arloheart for the fun commission! it's always a trip to write about belphie <3

It’s uncanny to be awoken by Belphegor, the Avatar of Sloth. Usually it goes the other way around. And for someone who values and desires sleep so much, he certainly doesn’t seem apologetic when it comes to waking you up.

“Hey,” he’s shaking you awake- and not being gentle with it- in the dead of night, muttering your name- thankfully- softly, “hey wake up.”

“What?” you grunt and then your body jolts awake as panic lurches through you. A bit disjointed and discombobulated, you turn to him, “are you okay? The babies okay?” your voice is deep with sleep and concern as you blink and adjust to the darkness surrounding you. Belphie stops shaking you,

“Yeah,” and though it’s dark you can see enough to know he’s smiling. Relief washes over you because no one is hurt and things are okay. You then resist the urge to frown because you know his bemused expression is due to how he takes delight in you looking confused and dazed when you wake up.

“What’s the matter then, love?” you ask softly, clearing your throat as you reach out to touch his pregnant belly gently.

“I’m horny,” he tells you bluntly. You suck your teeth at that, feeling annoyance prickle your skin.

“You woke me up… just because you’re horny?” Belphie nods,

“Yeah, are you going to do something about it?” his voice is teasing with a hint of desire. Part of you wants to indulge him, part of you wants to please him, and make him feel good. However, part of you- a large part of you- is more than a little ticked off by him ripping you from your slumber for this.

“Belphie, darling,” you sigh, dropping your hand, “I love you, and you know I’m always horny for you, but,” you pause, “couldn’t you have just gotten yourself off while I was sleeping?” it’s not like he hasn’t stuffed himself with your cock while you’ve been sleeping before.

“I can’t! This-” he gestures to his very evident and hardly forgettable, third-trimester belly, “prevents me from doing a lot of the things I was able to do before.” You know that, and Belphie knows that any excuse related to his pregnancy is your weak spot. He groans, and you can tell it’s an overreaction intended to make you cave.

“Everything hurts,” he continues when you don’t move to help him, “my pussy aches for your cock, and my tits hurt so much, and my legs are killing me,” you feel your heartstrings being tugged on as you listen to his woes- even though you will admit, he’s being very dramatic. “I’m so fragile and vulnerable,” and suddenly your heartstrings are just fine because those are lies if you’ve ever heard them, even while he’s pregnant. He reaches out to you, feeling up your chest to deliver the final blow, “come on, daddy, don’t you want to take care of me?”

You look at him for a long moment, then shake your head. “I'd only want to get you off if you were being a good boy for me,” you tease, turning over so Belphie doesn’t see how you fail to hold back a grin when he lets out a frustrated grunt.

“Fuck me,” it’s clear his patience is running thin when he hits you lightly, “come on fuck me daddy, it’ll feel so good, come on,” boy if you thought he was being bratty before, your teasing certainly hasn’t helped.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Belphie mutters under his breath, “okay, okay,” he nudges you, “no fucking me because you’re being grumpy and evil, but my chest really does hurt right now,” he moans softly, “will you at least help me with my tits?”

Oh Belphie knows exactly what he’s doing when he whispers those last words breathlessly. Despite your slight annoyance with him, you can feel your blood rush south. You submit to the fact that you’re not going to be able to go back to bed any time soon.

Turning back to Belphie, you feel pride swell in your heart at how excited he looks with your attention back on him. Giddily he leans against your pillows, pulling up his maternity sleep shirt, exposing both his beautiful belly, and his heavy breasts to you.

Slowly you make yourself comfortable between his spread legs, running your hands from his thighs up to his chest (giving some special attention to his belly first, of course).

Leaning down, you hear Belphie’s breath hitch as your lips get closer to his leaking nipple. And then you stop.

“Come on,” he strains, arching his chest up.

“Say please,” you tut, because he hasn’t even said please once yet. Such a brat.

“Ugh,” he snorts, “please daddy?” he says with an incredibly high-pitched whine, another overreaction. He did say “please” though, so you take his nipple into your mouth and suck hard.

Belphegor lets out a gasp that you know isn’t an overreaction. He’s always had a sensitive chest, even before he started producing milk.

He sinks into your bed as you drink from his breasts, relaxing at the relief that comes with getting the pressure off his chest.

Belphie wraps his arms around your neck, pulling you closer. “Thank you,” his voice is filled with tenderness and affection. You know he can (and likely will) get more worked up from this, but right now he genuinely sounds relieved.

Happily you suck until he has nothing left to give you, yet you still roll your tongue against his nipple a couple of times to make sure you’ve caught every drop. Belphie whines, his hands coming to move your head to his other tit. You give him the same treatment for his other breast, except you bring a hand up to lovingly rub his belly while you drink.

Little moans and breathless whimpers leave Belphegor’s pretty lips, but he’s otherwise pretty quiet. By the time you finish, he looks like he’s about to drift off. False hope leads you to believe he’d be satisfied with just this.

“Fuck me,” he whines pathetically as soon as your lips leave his puffy, spit-slicked nipple. You wait a moment, but again no “please” follows.

“I knew you’d want more,” you mumble, the words sounding much more affectionate than you’d intended them to be. “Such a greedy boy,” you chastise, but truthfully you’re glad he’s still wanting more, considering your dick is now straining uncomfortably against your pants.

Belphie lets his eyes open slowly before he pulls you up by your head so he can kiss you. You smile against his lips until you feel his mouth part and his tongue slide against yours. While you open your mouth for him to deepen the kiss, your hands wander from his belly to his sleep pants.

Inching the waistband of his pants down you hear, and feel, him let out a small noise of excitement. Slow as molasses you slip your hand into his underwear, brushing your fingers against his clit to feel him twitch and jerk under you.

He’s as hard as you are, and lets out a downright sinful noise when you rub his clit with your thumb. It almost makes you want to spend all your attention there, but you want to feel how needy he is.

When your fingers reach his soaking hole, Belphie is barely kissing you anymore, his jaw slack as he focuses on breathing heavily, drool seeping from his open mouth and wetting both yours and his chin. Even though he’s not putting any effort into kissing back, he still whines when you pull back your head.

He swallows heavily, bringing a hand to wipe away his spit from his face, his pretty purple eyes locked with yours the whole time. “Need you,” he mumbles, “it hurts, how badly I need you,” he tells you easily.

Your heart thumps heavily against your chest looking down at him, all desperate and debauched. His hair is disheveled, revealing how both of his pupils are blown wide with lust, his gaze finally breaking with yours to look down at the bulge that’s tenting your sleep pants. “Need you,” he’s quiet admitting it this time, like he’s talking to himself.

“Alright,” you reach your limit, feeling your own desperation overflow within you. With the utmost care you help Belphie out of his clothes (slipping a pillow under his hips to keep him comfortable). You feel as though you’re overheating, and can’t get your clothes off fast enough.

“Finally,” Belphie sighs happily as you- now nude- get comfortable again between his spread legs. He looks entirely too smug. It reminds you of how annoyed you were when he’d woken you up. It reminds you of how much you like to tease him.

"Not yet baby," you murmur, smiling when his expression melts from cocky to confused. "Don't you remember?" He looks even further confused, and god does it make him look so cute. "I said earlier, I think only good boys should be allowed to get off,” you remind him. You spread his pussy lips and slide your cock against his drenched cunt. Realization washes over Belphies face.

“Nooo,” he whines, yet his eyes flutter shut, and he jerks himself against the shaft of your dick all the same. “I’ve been a good boy, I said I- ooh,” you cut him off as you rub your sticky tip against his clit. Belphie wraps his arms around your neck, clinging to you, “I said I needed you,” he whines lewdly.

He has a point, considering he frequently refuses to admit when he’s wanting and worked up, favoring instead to tease and play with you until you bend to his needs.

“Baby,” you moan, slowly frotting yourself against his wet pussy, “you woke me up and you’ve- uh- barely said please at all tonight,” you argue. “Naughty boy,” you groan, emphasizing your point by leaning down to nip at one of his tits. Belphie yelps, arching his chest into your mouth all the same. Picking up the pace a bit, you shift your hips so you can rub yourself directly against his hard clit as you lick and suck the skin you’d gently bitten.

Belphie is quiet for a bit.

Except that’s not wholly true. Even though all you’re doing is some wet grinding, he gasps for breath, whines and whimpers like you not being inside of him is physically painful, and lets out moans that are deep and heavy, wanton in every sense of the word. It’s easy to tell these reactions are genuine, and he’s sensitive enough these days that he could cum from this alone if you go at it for long enough.

Finally, it comes out like it’s being punched out of him, “please, ah-” his eyes squeeze shut, clinging to you tighter while your cock blissfully slides and rubs against him. “Oh please, please, fuck, please, please,” now that he’s gotten it out once he can’t stop, and it comes out over and over like a prayer. “Please,” his voice cracks, and his breath catches as he cries out your name, “please fuck me, need you inside, please.”

“Good boy,” you coo as, one by one, tears start to pour from his eyes. “Aw there’s my good boy, you want my cock darling?” he nods, then hiccups.

You bring a hand up to brush away his tears, and Belphie leans into your touch, trying to calm himself.

“I need to get the lube,” you remind him gently.

“No,” Belphie sobs, frowning deeply and clinging to you tighter. “I’m wet enough,” he practically wails, “don’t need it.” Then he gives you those puppy eyes that you never can resist, and to make matters worse, he juts out his bottom lip in the cutest pout. Your hips stutter as you crumble,

“Okay, okay, but I’m still stretching you,” Belphie’s lips wobble into a grin at the compromise, so you pull back as much as you can with him still clinging to you.

Licking your lips you take a second to look over Belphie in full. He looks utterly wrecked: tears have stained his face, his lips are shiny with drool and spit, so puffy and pink that you want to lean down and kiss him until you can’t breathe, and his face is beautifully flushed.

“Please,” Belphie squirms under your gaze, and snaps you out of your trance, reminding you that you’re so hard it hurts, and you’ve got a very needy man under you waiting for relief. You gather saliva in your mouth and spit onto Belphie’s pretty pussy. He lets out a squeak at the sensation, that turns into a groan when you slip two of your fingers into his entrance.

Belphie’s eyes roll up into his head, clenching around you excitedly as you scissor and fuck your fingers into him slowly. “Now you’re being such a good boy for me,” you praise softly, “all you needed was something filling you up for you to behave, is that it?” Belphie doesn’t respond to your question.

You curl your fingers and he lets out a breathless, choked moan. “Yes,” he gasps, and you’re not sure if that’s a delayed response to your previous prompt, or if all he can do is express how pleased he is to have your fingers rubbing and stretching his insides.

It doesn’t take long for you to add another finger, and Belphie opens up for it easily. He’s past needy by now; so pliant and malleable, his body ready and more than willing to take anything at this point.

“Think you’re ready for-”

“Yes, fuck, please,” he cuts you off, each word sounding like its own secret confession.

“Yeah,” you sound just as far gone as he does, breathless and eager to feel him around you. Removing your fingers gently, you again gather your saliva in your mouth. You spit on your hand, moaning softly as you stroke yourself and crudely lube up your dick. Aligning your tip with Belphie’s hole, his breath catches with anticipation.

Steadying yourself by holding onto his hips you slowly inch yourself forward, your dick twitching as it’s surrounded by his heat. Belphie chokes when you’re nearly halfway inside of him, and you stop moving immediately, fearful that he’s hurting.

“Are you okay baby?” he nods,

“Just- just a second,” you feel him pulse and squeeze around you, adjusting to the intrusion. To soothe him you rub his hips lovingly, murmuring praise to distract him.

When he relaxes around you, you start to work your hips back, and gently thrust into him with the length that you’re able to. Belphie sighs softly, his lips parting and the tension leaving his face as he welcomes the stretch of your cock.

Soon his soft sighs turn to soft moans, and it only takes another moment for him to groan, “faster,” clinging to you desperately as any discomfort he’d felt melts into pleasure.

You pick up the pace immediately, yet you make sure to not press yourself any deeper, preferring for him to take the lead rather than you accidentally hurting him.

“Thank you,” he whines, so quietly you nearly miss it. You lean down to kiss his jaw,

“What was that, Belphie?” you tease. He groans, turning his face away from you,

“Mm, ah, I said thank you, fuck- feels so good, needed this, needed you, make me feel so good,” he lets himself loose as you let a hand fall from his hips down to rub his sensitive clit, “oh, gonna cum, deeper, wanna feel all of you, gonna cuh-cum, wanna feel you in my tummy, please, ple-ah!” you cut him off, finally pressing yourself balls deep inside of him.

Belphie cums, like he said would, overwhelming you as he squeezes and milks your length from tip to base.

“Fuck,” you choke, nearly losing control and toppling over him due to the intensity in which your orgasm hits you. Luckily, you have just enough of your wits about you to keep yourself up. However, you don’t have enough brainpower to control the way that your hips thrust, erratic and rough, as you fuck him through it, your skin slapping loudly against his as you both chase your climax.

It’s only once you’ve both caught your breath and started feeling the subtle pin-pricks of pain from overstimulation beginning to settle in, that you carefully and gently ease yourself out of him.

Belphie’s hole twitches as your cum seeps from his used hole. You think he makes a very pretty picture, and if you weren’t so unbelievably exhausted you’d consider cleaning him out with your mouth.

Instead, you kiss his sweaty forehead, and pull the blankets over him so he doesn’t catch a chill as you grab a washcloth and glass of water.

It’s hard to tell if he’s asleep or simply resting when you return. Either way you have to clean him up, so you place the cup of water on the bedside table, and pull back the blanket to place yourself between his legs once again.

Delicately, you wipe at his sensitive hole with the washcloth. Belphie groans, peaking one eye open,

“Hurts?” He shakes his head,

“No,” his voice is rough and slurred with how exhausted he is, “well, maybe a little bit,” he confesses. You lean down to kiss his cheek apologetically.

“I’ll be quick then,” you promise, returning to cleaning him, kissing him softly and sweetly with every wince he gives.

Once you’re done you toss the rag elsewhere and kiss your way down to his belly.

“I love you,” you look up, and though Belphie looks a breath away from falling asleep, you catch his eyes. He looks down at you so lovingly it makes your heart ache. You kiss his belly again, breaking eye contact to turn your attention to the babies inside of him

“Your dad is the worst for waking me up in the middle of the night,” you whisper to them, though it’s loud enough for Belphie to hear. He flicks your head, and you giggle, continuing with your bit, “I hope you two wake him up ten times as much when you come out,” Belphie responds by snorting and weakly flicking your head again.

"Cuddle me to sleep," he demands, tugging at you weakly. "Please," he adds before you can start, and since he asked so nicely you slide up next to him, kissing him once before you both fall fast asleep.

#cw overstimulation #cw lactation #cw pregnancy #cw spit #cw dacryphilia #cw daddy kink #spice #sub obey me #sorry if belphie is ooc </3

320 notes · View notes