#muselexum

i did

@muselexum​ asked: 🍆 or 💦 for the scary goth man

Send 🍆 and my muse will describe a sexual fantasy they have about your muse. Send 💦 instead for a wet dream they’ve had about your muse. (Still Accepting!)

(We’ll go with a 💦 wet dream lol)

@muselexum inquired // ❛ there’s nothing you could have done. ❜ //Mihawk to Perona

AN OLD MEME // NOT ACCEPTING // MIHAWK 》 PERONA

💀 — eyes downcast to the newspaper in the mans' hands, gaze half lidded. It was one of those rare moments that perona was quiet, tears brimming in those heavily lined eyes, threatening to spill over and ruin her perfectly poised make up. her captain was dead. perona had already thrown her temper tantrum, but now it was finally hitting her : her captain was gone and she had no where to go. sure, she was temporarily staying on kuraigana with this brooding man, but she would be a fool if she didn't recognize he didn't want her there.

she could no longer hold it back, the tears escaping her eyes as she choked out a sorrowful sob. "i have no place now." she managed out, with painful hiccups. up until now, she had only let herself act a child and throw her fits, but now the emotions were raw, and she let herself become vulnerable in front of her host. "what do i do now? if i was there i could've ..." could've what? stopped it? saved him like some heroine? perona knew she would've gotten scared and overwhelmed if this assailant truly defeated her captain, she knew no one stronger than her beloved moriah.

THINGS DONE WHILE SPARRING/FIGHTING

✧.    It'd been far, far too long since they'd last done this.

     The air crackled with energy, the clash of their haki shattering the ground below as he landed a firm punch on his first mate's jaw and received a kick to the chest in turn, forcing him back with a giddy grin on his face —   how he'd missed this.

     They didn't spar often, there was just too much to do and not enough time, not to mention their ship just wasn't built for such destructive fights. Yet, the seas had been far too calm the past few weeks with no enemy ship in sight, and they'd been both long restless by the time they’d found an island suitable for some sparring. He hadn’t hesitated to lunge himself at his partner, initiating the fight and relishing in how wonderful it was. Perhaps not as grand as fighting side by side with him, maybe so, but anything done with Rayleigh would never fail to be thrilling.

     It was simply meant to be. No one else complemented him so well, understood him so well. The man knew just how he thought, knew how he fought, and knew exactly how to get the upper hand on him. Roger could feel nothing but pure delight as his feet got swept from underneath him, the wind knocking out of his chest as Rayleigh slammed him down, keeping him in place with his own weight.

     His heart skipped a beat, eyes meeting Rayleigh's on top of him — sweat glistening his brow, hair unruly and appearance disheveled from their prolonged fight. Perfect, that was all he could register, absolutely and utterly perfect. How insanely lucky he was to have him.

“ Wahaha, don't you think you think you're getting a bit too comfortable there ? ”   he laughed out breathlessly instead, tone teasing,   “ I'm your captain, not a floor mat. ”

     Despite his words, he seemed perfectly content as they were, a pleased grin gracing his face as his eyes never broke contact, his body relaxed and pliant on the ground beneath him. He always did enjoy when Rayleigh took control.

“ Hmm, but I suppose I can't say I mind this view at all, ”   he murmured with an exaggerated, sultry tone, his voice rumbling in his chest as he wiggled his eyebrows in a playful manner for a moment or so before the facade broke. Breaking out into cheerful guffaws, still trapped underneath the other. How could he help himself ?

     As the laughter faded, Roger’s expression softened, staring up with sheer adoration and devotion  ( and a dash of hunger )  because, by the seas, how he loved this man.

     ...Nevertheless.

     His smile suddenly sharpened, eyes widening, and it was all the warning he would give before surging upwards with all his might, twisting their bodies to flip their positions, and slamming the both of them back downwards. His hands digging into the ground on either side of Rayleigh's head, taking full advantage of his taller height to engulf the other man's body with his own.

HIT ‘EM WHERE IT HURTS

ლ.    It was betrayal, he told himself. He knew. He was breaking the rules in a way unlike anything he'd ever done before.. He was going against a direct order that the whole world knew about. If Fleet Admiral Kong or Sengoku found out he wasn’t in the East Blue...

     Garp startled at the sudden question, wondering for a second if it were directed to one of the doctors nearby before realizing he wouldn’t be that lucky. His eyes met hers —   Rouge, she’d called herself. Portgas D. Rouge,  ( another one with that damn initial ).  Her question registered in his mind a second later, shoulders stiffening as it did, because how was he supposed to answer that ?

     Good ?  She’d condemned her child the second she’d decided to fall in love with Roger;  a criminal unlike any other. And now, because of her insane plan, she was going to leave their child with him. What was she thinking ?!  Garp had thought he’d only have to protect the damn kid, not raise them !  He wasn’t fit for that, and he had a son who refused to talk to him to damn well prove it and—

“ Yes, ”   he said firmly, his voice unwavering,   “ The Government would never suspect what you’ve managed to do. You’ve saved your child. ”

     He winced at the formality of his own tone. Unfitting for him and one he didn’t even use for his superiors, and then winced at the words themselves. What was he saying ?  And yet he didn’t take back a single word. The coat on his shoulders felt more weighted than usual, as though it were judging him —   but what was wrong here ?  Killing pregnant women because of a possibility ?  Killing an innocent baby ?  The things he’d witnessed and heard reported these past months made him sick. Was this really Justice ?  Was it ?

     Dammit, Roger. Damn him. Damn the stupid, selfish bastard. For becoming the criminal he did. For having a child. For turning himself in and dying. For falling in love with and then leaving Rouge, and then demanding that Garp protect his damn kid like an idiot, as if it wasn’t high treason —

     But there he was, watching over a dying woman   ( too late, he’d been too late. His conflict delaying the decision he’d known the answer to since the second he’d been asked, and he wondered if the guilt he shouldn’t even be feeling would ever subside ),   with undeniable intentions of doing exactly what Roger had asked from him.

     Maybe, in that way, he sympathized with Rouge. They’d both been unable to deny the unyielding fool that had been Gol D. Roger.

“ ...He would’ve been proud of you, ”   Garp muttered, unsure if Rouge could even hear him anymore at this point. Because Roger would’ve been proud. The bastard would’ve probably laughed in admiration of her genius, before finding some idiotic way to save her, laws of reality be damned,   “ Your child won’t die today. ”

     And that was all he could promise her. I’m sorry, he wanted to say, for not being able to promise more. But for all he acted, he was a realistic man. He couldn’t promise next year, or ten years in the future, or twenty. Arms crossed over chest, hands digging into his own flesh tightly, unable to look away.