Pink Tokoyami Fumikage

18+, MDNI

having a one night stand with simon and thinking you’d never see him again, he was a good lay, giving you orgasm after orgasm and speaking absolute filth into your ear when he was deep inside your cunt. you’d say maybe the best you’ve ever had, but that didn’t stop you from leaving early in the morning from his sparsely decorated flat, a note left on his side table that simply said you’d had a good night and you hoped he did too, you even added a cute little smiley to the end. then you’d gone on with your day, with your life.

until, about 2 weeks after, there was a knock at your door, it’s late, already having put on your pjs and started searching your pantry for something to make for dinner. and when you open the door, your surprise is palpable, there simon stood, long, strong legs covered in cargo pants, pretty brown eyes locked on you, a black surgical mask covering the lower part of his face, hiding the long scar that you remember feeling rub against your thigh. he holds a bag of takeout and then proceeds to shoulder his way in, leaving a small kiss on your cheek through the mask before making his way to your couch.

you want to ask how he found your place, how he knew you were home, and why the hell he’s here. you actually do ask the third one, which he answers with a simple, gruff “dinner”. you nod slowly, finding your way to the other end of the couch, but are met with a huff and a large hand pulling you closer to him, making sure your leg is pressed right up against his. he plates your food, then starts eating his own, makes small comments about the taste and asks questions about your day. the night seems almost normal, like something you’ve done before with him, disregarding the fact that you’d only been around each other for 2 hours tops and almost all of that time was spent by you trying to do something other than moan his name.

when you’re done you expect him to leave, to go on with his night, or maybe you to wake up from a dream. instead he makes his way to your bedroom, sits down on the bed and tells you how he can’t stop thinking about your lips around his cock. and yeah, you fold.

that’s how you end up learning that his stamina is insane, especially for an older guy, and he likes to see your face, makes sure to face you towards a mirror in full nelson or holds you in mating press with his pink (scarred) lips against yours. maybe you also learn that his phone lock screen is a color scarily similar to your irises and you see a file with your full name (one you hadn’t given him) front and center when he rolls over to unlock his phone, he says something about how he needs to send a message to ‘his team’ about dinner this weekend to meet his new bird, you wonder what kind of sports team he’s on, gotta be rugby with a build like his, but your thoughts don’t stray too far before he’s ready to go again, something about three being his lucky number, that this time it will take.

Ghost doesn't cutesy talk cats, he talks to them like other adult men and it's hilarious.

They're at a safehouse, and Ghost is listening to the radio, Price hears him talking to someone, and he's confused because both of his sergeants are conked out asleep.

So, he walks around the corner and finds Ghost sitting on a step with the radio playing and a stray kitten biting his laces while he talks to her. "I don't believe shoelaces constitute part of a balanced diet."

John just sits down on the step next to him and ignores how his knees click. "What's her name?"

"She's yet to disclose name or rank, but given that she's clearly smarter than those two through there, I'd say she's a lieutenant." He responds so dryly that John can't help but snort.

"Ah, I see. Making her way through the ranks at her young age, impressive." He leans forward to pet the kitten, flattening down the tuft of fur sticking up on her head.

"She's a hard worker, look at those paws. Grubby, she's been busy."

The kitten offers them a mewl in response, and he nods accordingly.

"She's stern, reminds me of Laswell."

That makes Ghost laugh.

Late night dose of existential crissis and smut

Bitches be like ‘I’m so tired and sleepy’ and then stay up doing hyperfixtation shit for the next 5 hours

Domesticated Ghost

He used to have a bridge piercing, now closed up and only noticeable because he likes - genuinely loves - when you manhandle his face. Like he’s a giant Rottweiler in desensitization training. Drool catching in the webbed skin between your fingers. Nipping at the tips of your new gel manicure. (He asks if you’d paint his initials on your nails. You say no. He's not bothered. More… pleased. Like he was testing to see if he could push your boundaries, and is happy that he can't.)

He explains his past of being a punk youth, how a counselor got him to quit drugs and enlist. It's mildly infuriating.

"One fucked habit for another." Your muttering isn't lost; he's too present, the alley too narrow for that. He shrugs, like it’s no big deal that he’s still kicking, all ten fingers and toes, seemingly well-adjusted - or at the very least, self-aware.

You thumb the space between his eyes. Feel the thickness of healed skin. "I think you should put it back in."

"Get it re-pierced?" He nudges into your hand, encouraging you after you stop.

"Yeah, why not?"

"Coz I’m fucking forty with a wife."

"Your wife is single," you remind him, like it’s a direct correction.

"Mm." A palm skates across your belly. "Is she pregnant too?"

Your hand stills. Heart stops. Mouth opening - "How - who told you that?"

He mirrors you. Shocked, in his own way. "You’re-?"

You shove him hard. "Fuck no, you fuck! God, you scared the hell out of me."

He settles back in far too easily, in your opinion. Purring, essentially.

"Soon."

"No chance."

"Never, then." His acceptance with your choice. It eases you. No more defense.

"… Maybe not that, either."

His head tilts, chin up. "Yeah?"

You shrug instead of answering. You think you'd do anything for him.

when buggy likes someone, he writes cringey poetry like a smitten teenager.

I decided to create something that I wish I had when I first got diagnosed with autism - so here’s my comic for ASDComicTakeover! You can find out more about the project here!

Keep reading

Im not picky when it comes to height, but somehow all my husbandos are 7 ft smh

How tall is your moon compared to the average Teen?

,,,tal

February is right around the corner, which means it’s soon time for Funguary 2023! the drawing event where we draw a bunch of mushroom based characters during the month of feb.

Here’s how it works:

Each week of the month will have a theme with seven different prompts, draw something mushroom related within that theme in order to join. The themes are Weird, Mystical, Malicious and Friendly. You don’t have to complete all the prompts, just one mushroom per theme/week is plenty!

If you’re hardcore you can definitely try and finish all the prompts though ;). The challenge intensity is adjustable to what suits you. This is a chill event where the goal is to just have fun and vibe, and honor the fungi kingdom with some really cool art🍄

I invite you all to come draw mushrooms with me! Use the hashtag #Funguary when posting your creations. I’ll be posting some of the creations here, and I’ll also be hanging out in the hashtag and comment sections! Really hope y’all join and draw fungi with me🥰🍄🌿 See you all on the first of February, LETS GOOOO!!

Okay but what if this was Eustass Kid.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley who's just, so fucking happy to hear you complain.

like the tap is dripping? yes ma'am he'll fix that straight away, because a tap that drips long enough to annoy you means he's got a home.

the grocery store has changed the layout? that means you've been there long enough to notice.

there's construction for an ugly building down the street? you're clearly planning to stay.

he left the toilet seat up? he'll kiss your face all over until you giggle, promising he won't do it again, he might, just to hear you complain about it.

he's just so giddy when you complain about mundane things, he's so happy you don't have to worry about blood and war and death, you get to live in peace. even if that peace is disrupted by a stupid toilet seat.