Gin -w/o tonic- @nymosxiii - Tumblr Blog

I’m baaaaaack~ Haven’t posted for a while as I’ve been suuuper busy recently, but managed to draw a Lilia amidst the chaos 🦇 I’ve wanted to draw him with a vampire squid for a while now, cause he kinda reminds me of one 🦑 That’s not too much of a stretch, right?

(I’ll pop it onto my Inprnt shop in a day or two for anyone who’s interested 😊)

momojirunkt

ｗｏｗ

絶対得る

kamiraaah

🃏 The Trappola Siblings ♥️

fiasoupy

Idia... 😌

heylsgowt

hacked-by-jake

D R A B B L E

A/n: Just a short little thingy-thing. Jake x MC. Nothing special. After posting about it days earlier I wanted to address the topic... well, in a drabble lol.

Jake had been back for three days now. Three days in which he had been staring at the new file on his laptop without opening it.

He hadn’t allowed himself to.

Moonvale.

Attached to it—logs, names, locations, fragments, messages. Secrets.

And MC.

Your name appeared too often to be ignored.

Maybe he should have ignored it. Focused on everything else that required his attention. There was enough. More than enough.

But at 02:13, in the dark of a rented hotel room, the screen the only source of light, restraint became inefficient.

He opened the file.

His jaw tightened as unfamiliar names populated the screen. Profiles. Connections. Movement patterns. All organized. Clean. Efficient.

Ordered alphabetically by NYMOS.

His eyes moved faster.

Cross-references. Message logs. Calls. Already a lot of them.

And pinned at the top of the folder, two missing persons: Adam Dover. Sophia Holland.

He stilled, eyes moving a bit slower as he read the information. Both disappeared on the same night. Both in... the woods of Redlog Pines.

He exhaled, measured, controlled, while patterns were getting clearer in his mind.

Your name surfaced again. Threaded through conversations. Attached to timestamps that stretched deep into the night. Too late to be healthy for your sleep schedule.

He leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing when he shortly looked away from the screen out the window into the dark night.

The realization came fast, uncomplicated. Unpleasant.

You were doing it again. Investigating. Barely a gap between this one and Duskwood. And once again... no hesitation from you.

But this time... no him.

He became aware of the pressure in his jaw only when the metallic taste registered on his tongue from where his teeth had dug into his cheek. But he didn’t loosen it.

The pain brought him back from his thoughts, his eyes snapping back to the screen, the cursor flickering.

He scrolled back to the top. Read everything again. Faster this time. As if his mind had decided there was no time to waste. As if his mind was trying to distract him from a spiral of worry.

But it only made everything clearer. Realer.

You were repeating it. Different names. Different place. But the same structure.

And the same risks...

His gaze shifted back to your name, highlighted in the system as if it belonged there. As if it had always belonged there.

His fingers moved before the thought fully formed. The secured channel he had opened three days ago when he came back. When he finally reached out again.

For a moment, the cursor blinked in an empty input field.

But he did not fill it yet. Didn't type the words in his mind.

Instead, he pulled up another log. Ran a quick trace on one of the numbers linked to you.

Eric.

Barely secured account.

Amateur.

His expression darkened, almost imperceptibly, the more he read.

A girl named Ash you already befriended. Just like you did with Jessy without even doing anything. A guy named Charlie. Too personal. Too... aligned. Too... open with all of them. Worrying for each of them.

And the most bitter realization so far—

You trusted them.

He leaned back in his chair, this time fully. His screen showing your story: “Who knows what happened at the Greenside Motel?”

Your beautiful face looking right at him from your profile pictures.

He stared right back as his chest began to tighten up. Second by second. His thoughts started to race. Worry, hurt, jealousy mixing together into a complicated mix that took over his rational thoughts.

Then, finally—

His hands moved.

No greeting.

No hesitation.

Just one sentence.

autumnoiir

l-ile

miinika

Plz don't pay too much attention to his hands. I know knight's gloves aren't supposed to look like that but I put all my effort into the chest armor detalis...

3ic95id864pg

The Freak Circus= monster form of Pierrot

(Artwork drawn by the Twitter artist: @Stosh_art)

tinnyfoxts

firelordenora

don’t let me near him

melorosss

Seeing the general without a mask is it a blessing or does it still bode no good ?

buchiparty

🦇🐛 Taunting

yumbrite

A blueberry jam cat!

bumpen-underbeds

Having a guardian angel that insists they must check you over, see every inch of your bare skin and memorise the very shape and nature of your body.

They definitely haven't been suckered into it by a demon, wavering under the whispers of heresy and temptation to know your body intimately, they have not!

It's simple, once a week they visit you sighing and helping you strip down, finger gentle as they run along your arms, tracing across your ribcage, feeling as you breath and your heart pounds against their palm as they touch your chest, press against your back as they stand cheek to cheek with you. Weaving your fingers together for a moment before squeezing them gently, pulling back and smoothing their palms down your neck and back, holding your hips as they kiss down your spine, ignoring the shivers and hitched breaths as they press their forehead against the dimple of your spine.

Fluttering their wings as they try their best to ignore the physical sensations running through them, how they can feel the flickers and glitching of their halo, taking a deep breath before bringing their hands down your legs, touching and following the shape of your claves before nudging your legs open to drag their fingers all the way up, cooing softly at you as they open their eyes, looking up at you as they ignore the ringing laughter as something unseen shatters when their fingers trace along your sex.

Muttering that this is not temptation but simply knowing their charge, looking both divine and debauched as they press their cheek to your hip and continue to explore the feel of you under their hands, ignoring how you shake and whimper from their attention.