#Anyone with experience feel free to weigh in

[my-chemical-rot]

Hand tattoos are so hot but I feel like they’d hurt a lot

[welcometogrouchland]

EXTREMELY CRUSTY but I’ve been working on oc designs in between DC prompts. My little meow meows im so sorry i neglected you (i will inevitably do it again </3)

[hum--hallelujah]

I have so many autistic/low empathy/otherwise neurodivergent Dr Benzedrine headcanons in my drafts that I'm afraid to post bc I'm not autistic/low empathy and don't know enough to know if I'm being accurate/respectful in all the details

[solarmorrigan]

cw: implied sexual content, mentions of anxiety/PTSD responses

-

The first time Eddie lifts him off his feet, Steve is pretty sure he has an out of body experience.

He’s never dated anyone as strong as he is, is the thing. It isn’t that he hadn’t dated girls who were strong—cheerleading takes more muscle than many people seem to think, and there had been a couple of girls from the soccer team besides that—but none of them had been strong enough to just casually lift Steve up.

But Eddie does it. He does it mid-makeout session, doesn’t even break the kiss as he gets his hands under Steve’s thighs and lifts him up to sit on the counter he’d been pinned against. And maybe it doesn’t break Eddie’s concentration, but it shatters Steve’s.

He stops kissing back long enough to make Eddie pull away and ask, “What’s wrong?”

Wrong? Steve’s heart is racing, his face is flushed, his lips are kiss-bruised, and he’s sitting on top of his kitchen counter because Eddie had put him there – just grabbed his legs and hoisted him up, left his hands resting on Steve’s thighs, and Steve can feel them burning through his jeans, which are suddenly quite a bit tighter.

Nothing is wrong.

“That was hot,” Steve blurts, and Eddie blinks at him.

“What? Me lifting you up?”

Steve nods. “Yeah.”

A slow smirk spreads across Eddie’s face. “You like that?” he asks. “That I can throw you around a little?”

“Yeah,” Steve rasps, surprising even himself with the raw want in his voice. Given his history with people throwing him around, it shouldn’t be something he wants, but the more he thinks about it—the more he thinks about Eddie doing it—the more appealing it becomes.

“The information is noted and will be filed away for later consideration,” Eddie says, like the fucking nerd he is, and when he leans back in to kiss Steve, he digs his fingers into Steve’s thighs, holding him tight, like he might leave little bruises when he pulls away. (Steve hopes he does.)

Eddie doesn’t abuse the knowledge he’s been given, but he does put it to good use.

He pulls Steve across the couch and into his lap, holding him close with his arms looped around his waist, making Steve feel wanted and warm.

He manages to pick Steve up and spin him around, laughing as he does so, making Steve laugh, making him feel light and adored.

He carries Steve to the bedroom, his hands hooked firmly under Steve’s ass, Steve’s legs wrapped around his hips, arms around his shoulders, and tosses him onto the bed, making Steve feel very much like he wants Eddie to fuck him.

Then, reasonably assured that Steve is enjoying the treatment, Eddie ups his game. He pins Steve to the wall of the bedroom one evening, fisting a hand in his shirt and pushing him back, leaning heavily into his space, and Steve is for a moment viscerally reminded of another time and place. He thinks about the smell of lake water and dust, of the prick of sharp glass against his skin, of the frightened and desperate look in Eddie’s eyes.

But the memory is chased away by the feeling of Eddie’s lips on his. This is so much better – this is Eddie’s free hand running gently through Steve’s hair, this is the warm, familiar weight of Eddie’s body pressing into him, this is Eddie’s thigh shoved between Steve’s legs. This is good.

Eddie grips Steve’s hair close to his scalp and pulls. Steve moans and mindlessly grinds down.

It becomes a new and intimate normal, something they barely even have to think about, something that just feels right. Even when Steve starts out on top, the instigator, the one in control, it’s easy for Eddie to turn the tables.

As Steve straddles him on the bed now, both their shirts lost but the effort to rid themselves of their pants temporarily derailed, Steve is too eager in his pursuit of Eddie’s mouth to notice the coiling tension in the body below him.

He doesn’t notice until the tension springs, and Steve finds himself rolled onto his back with Eddie weighing him down. Quicker than Steve can keep up, Eddie is straddling his waist, taking his wrists and pulling his arms above his head, pinning them to the mattress.

Instinctively, Steve struggles against the hold, but he has no leverage, and Eddie’s grip remains firm. Steve can’t move – yet the expected wave of panic never comes.

He doesn’t feel trapped beneath Eddie, he feels secure, like Eddie is shielding him, keeping him safe. The hold on his wrists keeps him tethered to the Earth when the rest of him feels like floating away, and Steve tugs a little more so Eddie will grip him tighter. He hopes it leaves marks, wants to wear the bruises like bracelets in the shape of Eddie’s fingers.

Then Eddie pulls back, ends the kiss to ask, “This okay?”

He sounds serious, like he really wants to know, like he’ll let Steve go the moment he asks, which is precisely why Steve nods quickly and begs, “Please don’t stop.”

And Eddie grins and leans back in for another kiss, holding Steve tight.

[Prompt: Rolling over in bed, switching positions during a kiss]

[hungharrington]

a little less conversation, a little more action, please

[rings bell frantically] CALLING ALL PPL WHO HAD BAD SEX EXPERIENCES!!! if that’s you, this is for u :D ! this has been in the drafts 4 months and i’m excited to set it free! enjoy! 8k words, fem!reader, oral (f receiving) MDNI THIS ENTIRE BLOG IS 18+

You think you might be the only person your age in the whole of Hawkins who doesn’t seem to get the hype.

Couples have been caught all over in the act. At the drive-in cinema, in the back of the cinema, hell, even beneath the bleachers at school — tongues down each other's throats and pants around their ankles, so caught up in each other that they don’t care about consequences. That it’s that good, that it’s worth the risk. 

Sex. 

You just don’t get it.

Once upon a time, one boyfriend ago, before you’d ever experienced it, there had been an inkling of eagerness within you. Curiosity twined in with piqued interest, you wondered eagerly about when you’d find someone who’d show you all about why sex got its reputation. 

And then you had it— with Samuel Cosgrove in his twin bed when his parents were out of town, 3 weeks into dating him. Your expectations crumbled. 

You decided quickly that everyone must be lying if that was what you were supposed to be looking forward to. It wasn’t… sexy. You didn’t feel sexy having it either.

It only left you feeling somewhat awkward and a bit foolish, with Samuel trying to ruck your shirt up even though you had asked to keep it on. Embarrassment crept in easily at how you seemed to be half a step behind him the whole time, not quite warmed up, not quite sure if this was the mood, not quite ready to take all your clothes off. 

The springs on his bed were loud and squeaked with every shift of weight. The whole thing sort of hurt more than anything.

You chalked it up to the first time, dredging together your hopes even as they rapidly deflated inside you, cemented by Samuel’s sloppy kiss that missed your mouth and landed wetly on the corner of your lips when he finished. 

His sweat stuck to your skin and you didn’t feel sexy, or good, or relieved or anything else the dozen Cosmo magazines under your bed promised you would. 

Next time, you said to yourself. You had even confided in your close friend, admitting to the underwhelming experience, and asked quite plainly when it ‘got good’. 

“The first time always sucks!” She’d assured you, her voice a hushed whisper over the diner table.“Trust me, the first, like, three times totally suck.” 

You didn’t mean to but, subconsciously, three became the number to reach— get through the first three terrible times, and… all would be peachy in paradise. 

And so when the next time was… underwhelming, you weren’t exactly surprised. Worse, was how it wasn’t anything Samuel did but what he said that stuck with you long after he’d drifted off on your sheets. Lying in the cradle of your hips, Samuel had traced his hand up your legs and then frowned, yanking his hand back. You had startled, propping up quickly to ask him what it was. 

“You’re spiky,” he said, chuckling in a mean way. You could feel your chest ache pathetically at his words and you instinctively tried to curl your legs in, wanting to hide them away. So what if they were? It was the middle of winter and he’d surprised you, showing up at your window to sneak in. 

When the fourth time happened and disappointment weighed heavy on you again, you deduced the truth. Sex was some big scam- some stupid joke that everyone was in on and just pretending to enjoy. 

It was easier to blame sex if only so you didn’t blame yourself. But… it niggles in the back of your brain, a line-up of indisputable facts that all point to the same thing. That, maybe sex isn’t the problem — but you are. 

And, look, it’s not really a problem when you’re not dating or seeing anyone.

… Enter Steve Harrington.

Admittedly, Steve was not someone you thought you would ever date. Or maybe it was the other way around, that you thought that Steve would ever date you.

His reputation as a bit of a player was as far from something you were interested in, especially considering your feelings towards sex, but… he had sort of proven you wrong every chance possible.

One month of dates and it’s been no more than holding hands and kisses on cheeks. You’ve kissed him properly, of course, once or twice, but lest you give him the wrong idea, they hadn’t been much more than a quick kiss. Steve still seemed to glow afterward, no matter what. 

It made you feel good. Safe. Warmed you to know he was happy with whatever affection you felt ready to bestow, and never pushed for more. 

You could tell he wanted it. It was hidden in the flex of his fingers and even the not-so-subtle adjusting of his pants when he’d invited you over for a dip in his pool. You’d shown up in your bathing suit— and it was the most amount of skin Steve had ever seen from you and it did not go underappreciated. He had been touchy, hands skirting up your sides, but still respectful. 

And strangely enough, you find yourself… wanting it too. 

Wanting for his touch, thinking about letting your own hands wander across his skin to find what makes him sigh, makes him groan in pleasure, what might make him whine. It surprises you, the ferocity of your eagerness, how it presses your thighs together tightly and licks pure arousal up your spine — even when Steve’s not even trying. 

(He was, you just didn’t know it. Steve knows exactly when girls seem to be looking at his arms and he’s unashamed to say he will flex his muscles and pretend he hasn’t. Robin has caught him doing this several times.) 

And today has been nothing short of wonderful. 

A balmy Saturday which you found yourself swept up in Steve’s company over at his house, laziness fuelled by the golden sun rays of the day. 

You weren’t even doing anything in particular, just enjoying being near each other. You had stretched out on a pool lounger with a book in your hand for the most part and it was with giddy delight that Steve seemed more than chuffed to just lay beside you, sizzling in the sun and then occasionally cooling off in the pool. 

Which is a spectacle all in itself. 

The sight of his chest gives you one or two steamy ideas, especially as it drips with water when he pushes up on the edge of the pool. His biceps bulge deliciously as you peer over the edge of your book, not as subtlety as you might think. You honestly don’t even mind if he catches you staring, not when this is your view. 

Your eyes trace the sparkling drops of water as they roll down his chest tantalizingly slow, through the chest hair between his pecs, down, down, trailing down his happy trail— fuck, okay, he totally caught you staring. 

Your eyes dart back up to his face to find Steve’s already looking at you, his eyes holding a playful mirth to them. His smile looks just a little bit cheeky. Bastard. 

Water splatters on the tiles where he walks as he pads over to collect his towel bunched on the end of the lounger beside your own.

“Good book?” He asks sweetly.

He says it as he scrubs the towel over his face, drying it off and then starting on his hair— he gives it a quick rub over rapidly so that when he pulls the towel away, his hair is sticking up in every direction. He holds the towel to his chest and gives his head a quick shake, like a dog, shaking out the extra water.

When he looks up at you again, beginning to towel dry his bare chest, you realise you haven’t even attempted to answer his question. 

“Book.” You echo. Steve chuckles a little bit and it kickstarts your embarrassment, finally remembering to say something else. You hold the book up to gesture with it, “Yes! It’s good, it’s…” 

Steve’s resumed drying himself and you find your words leaving you as the towel drags down his tummy, leading your eyes with it. Your mouth feels suspiciously dry. Want. You want him.

“It’s…?” 

He’s teasing you again. You startle, wondering if he’s purposefully trying to put on a sensual towel-drying show for you. You’re surprised to find you’re actually glad that he is. 

It feels like another subtle way to affirm all his affections for you without all of the touchiness you’ve yet to reach with him — come and get me, it’s like he’s saying, if you want. 

You snap your book shut. “It’s too hot to be reading, I think.” 

Steve frowns in his worry and steps forward, closer to you. He presses the back of his hand to your forehead lightly. “You feelin’ too warm? Y’gotta careful being out here too long if you aren’t gonna swim.” 

He sounds on the concerned side but there’s a touch of cheek in his voice too, like he knows why you haven’t turned the page for the last 5 minutes. It stokes the firey feeling that’s beginning to burn in your gut. A smile curls at your lips and you huff a little laugh, leaning back and batting his hand away from your forehead. 

“Yes, mom.” You jest, hand falling back onto the lounger. You lean back onto it to get a better view of him. “I’m not too hot.” 

Steve grins. “Oh, I would say the opposite. You are, in fact,” He leans in closer, one hand coming up to push some hair behind your ear. His hand lingers, fingertips on the edge of your jaw. “Very hot.” 

You couldn’t stop your reaction if you tried— which you do try, some sputtering cough with a duck of your head as you feel your body flush hotly at his words. His forwardness is something you’re still getting used to.

Just as you’re about to stumble through a poorly constructed sentence, Steve saves you— reaching over to grab his rumpled t-shirt and pulling it over his head. A small, disappointed, part of you wilts. You catch yourself from being so obvious, scooping up your bookmark and stuffing it in a random page. 

Steve offers his hand out for you to take. “C’mon, we both need some water I think.” 

You ponder if there’s a second meaning to his words as you trail along beside him, letting him lead you back through the sliding glass doors that open to the kitchen with your intertwined hands. Steve gives your hand a quick squeeze before he drops it to open the fridge, peering inside. You lean back against the counter, arms folding loosely over your front and allow yourself to look at him. 

Your boyfriend. It sounds even a bit strange in your head and you know if you tried to say it aloud, it would get caught on the way out, tripping over your teeth. Calling him your boyfriend cements all those expectations you worry so much about… even though, not-so-secretly, you revel in the fact thats he’s your boyfriend. 

“Thinking hard over there, I can see,” Steve comments teasingly and you blink, realising he’s already looking at you. He must have asked you a question and you missed it. 

“What?” 

Steve laughs a bit, pink lips pulled into a slight smirk. He shakes the bottle in his hands a little bit, bringing your attention to it. “Did you want to try some of this? I think it’s sparkling and…” 

He trails off, pulling the bottle closer to his face to scan over the front of it. You can’t help but think the furrow in his brows as he reads is adorable. He hums, obviously not finding what he’s after, and flips the bottle over. 

“…raspberry flavour?” He finishes, looking up at you, brows raised. He gives a little shrug. “That sound nice?” 

You think about it for a moment and then shake your head. Steve laughs in agreement and places ii back in the fridge, some mumble about his mom leaving it here the last time she visited home. He turns back to the fridge still rummaging. “Okay, anything in particular you want?” 

You are thirsty but… your stomach swoops as you realise it’s for something else altogether. If you want it though, you’ll have to ask. 

“Maybe, a kiss?” 

Steve freezes for an instant, then he whips around like he’s not entirely sure he’s heard correctly. The fridge door clatters loudly and he quickly grabs it, stopping the rattling bottles and looking mighty flushed when he shoots you a grin. 

“A kiss?” He checks. He lets go of the fridge doors to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly, too aware of his own unsubtle eagerness. “I heard that right, didn’t I?” 

A nervous chuckle scrapes out your throat but you nod. You uncross your arms but can’t settle them, crossing them again nervously as Steve comes closer. His brown eyes scan your face intently, searching to make sure he’s getting every signal right. 

When you smile assuredly, Steve sighs in relief and his shoulders drop an inch. He smiles too, his hand reaching up to hold your faces cupping your cheek. His strokes across your cheekbone as he talks. “Oh, thank god. I was beginning to think, maybe, you just weren’t into kissing me.” 

Then he leans in— and you hold your breath without meaning to. 

The thing is, Steve is a good kisser. A very very good kisser and even your strange gaspy noise as you try to remember to breathe is not enough to ruin the kiss. His plush lips capture yours and have you feeling as hot as the day, a heat blooming in your chest and spreading like wildfire. Your fingers flex at your sides. 

You push up on your toes without even thinking, to steal more of his touch, and when Steve breaks the kiss, you’re embarrassed to find yourself chasing his lips. You clear your throat and avert your eyes, sinking back down— embarrassed at showing how much you’d melted under a single kiss. 

You just don’t realise how it looks to Steve. 

“You do… right?” 

Your head pops up, eyes widening as you try to comprehend his question. 

“Like… kissing you?” You ask meekly, more embarrassed that he’s asking for confirmation. Embarrassed that you’d somehow been overly eager and also convinced him of the opposite in one kiss. God, maybe there is something wrong with you. 

“Yeah.” Steve nods, pulling back a little further from you— like he needs physical space in case you say something absurd like ‘no.’ 

Your hands react faster than your mind, reaching to grab his shoulders to stop him from putting space between you. 

“Yes!” You say loudly. You try to rein in your embarrassment for his sake, swallowing your nerves which feel thick and swollen in your throat. “Yes, I like kissing you. It’s just, I’m… I’m worried.” 

How do you say this? How can you explain that you’ve been so afraid of your kisses going a few steps further because then- then when things get heated and Steve’s expecting things, you have to explain that — that what? 

That you’re not really sure if you even like sex, or maybe that it just doesn’t seem to work for you or — or that there’s probably just something wrong with you that means you can’t figure out how the hell to relax and enjoy sex- and that it’s not his fault but probably totally yours but— 

“Woah, woah, woah,” Steve cuts into your spiralling thoughts, having seen the dilemma spilled across your face. “Stop thinking what you’re thinking and just, like, take a breather.” 

He places his hand on his chest and mimes a deep inhale. You copy him without thinking, chest rising and falling in sync with his, unable to look at him for a moment. When you find the courage to dredge your eyes up to his face, his eyes are soft and his brows have knitted together in concern. 

“Good.” He praises, hand falling off his chest to rub gently at your arm. “Okay, now instead of doing all that worrying up there just… tell me what’s worrying you. Please?” 

Part of you want to huff and hide, to make him really pry so you know that he means it. It’s dramatic, you know — especially because he’s being so good at communicating. He’s asked outright. You try to put the words in the correct order. 

“Just… we haven’t— I haven’t kissed you a lot because I’m worried about what it might lead to.” You say quietly, eyes back to avoiding his gaze. You stare at his chest, the tuft of chest hair peeking out, and do your best to swallow the knot in your throat. 

“And I— I don’t want to disappoint you,” you admit, frustrated at how a familiar sting burns at the back of your eyes. “But I- just, in the times I’ve gone that far and— and slept with someone, I didn’t… I just didn’t like it. I didn’t enjoy it.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut tight, proclamation out in the open, and try to take a deep breath— just like Steve had instructed mere moments ago. Courage gathered, you open your eyes and peer up at him again. 

“Oh,” Steve breathes. You can nearly see the cogs turning in his head, his eyebrows twitching as he takes in what you’ve said and what it means for the two of you. “Oh, well that’s okay. I mean, if you didn’t want to I would never—“ 

“—That’s not the thing.” You interrupt. “I want to. I do. I just…” Your voice trails off, taking on a  trembling whisper as you say the thing you’ve yet to say aloud yet, for fear of speaking it into existence. You can’t quite look at him, eyes focused on the kitchen tiles instead. 

“I think it’s me. I think— I’m worried there’s something wrong with me.” 

Your words hang in the air for a moment and Steve feels his worry shift into something deeper, something closer to devastation, as he realises how deeply you believe what you’ve said. 

You genuinely think there is— even thinking it makes him want to scoff aloud. He forces himself to focus on consoling you here and now, instead of riling himself up with thoughts of whatever— whoever lead you to your immense self-doubt. 

“Well, there’s not,” Steve says plainly. Like there’s no room for discussion— his hand drifting down your arm to gather your hands in his own. They get swallowed, his hands huge when compared to your own. 

“There’s nothing wrong— you- you could never disappoint me in that way.” 

Your eyes lift from the ground to his face, desperate to see if you can see the truth in his words. He can tell- fuck, he can already read you so well. 

“Honest,” He insists, giving your hands a quick squeeze. “I promise you, okay? I- if I was disappointed over something like that it would be- that would be such a dick move.” 

“Well, you wouldn’t be the first.” You mutter bitterly. 

The words slip out without entirely meaning to; you aren’t trying to start a pity party but how are you supposed to explain why you think the way you do? How can you explain why you’re so worried about taking it further? Deep down, you know he deserves to know. 

Steve’s eyes widen for a moment, your words sinking in and cutting as they go. He doesn’t want to think about you sleeping with other people, for all the jealous reasons, but mainly because everything he’s learned today is that nobody has taken proper care of you. 

It twists his heart thinking of some fucking idiot not taking his time with you, not getting you comfortable— so that you get to this point, embarrassed, avoiding his eyes, and so entirely convinced that you’re the problem. 

“Look,” Steve says softly. His hands squeeze yours again and he tries to think of how best to say this. “If we never sleep together, I don’t care.” 

That catches your attention, your head jerking up to look at him — what? That has never even been an option with dating someone. Not in your mind, at least. You find yourself reeling, fumbling for words but Steve just keeps talking. 

“If you don’t wanna, I don’t wanna,” Steve shrugs, like that’s all there is to it.

“There’s nothing wrong if it’s not really your thing.” Another squeeze to your hands. You look up at him, aware you must look a picture of bewildered — there were a thousand ways you imagined this conversation going and this was not one of them. 

A smile pulls on his lips as he chuckles a bit, eyes falling to your conjoined hands. “Hell, for all we know I’d add to your disappointing experiences.” 

You laugh quietly but it’s saturated in fondness. He’s taking jabs at himself to make you feel better. 

“Hardly likely, considering the rumours I’ve heard about you,” You murmur lowly. You find it in yourself to squeeze his hands back, peering back up at him. Steve’s brows rise and he grins. 

“Oh? And just what rumours are we talking about?” He teases. 

“Shut up,” You say, no heat behind it in the slightest. Your chest is starting to feel lighter and lighter as the reality of his words sink in. “You know what they say about you.” 

Steve grins wider. “That I slept with Mrs. Click just to pass her class?” 

“What?” You wrinkle your nose at the horrid picture of your old English teacher with your boyfriend. “No! Did people really say that about you?” 

Steve’s grin fades, edging towards jaded. He gives a soft sigh, tilting his head back an inch. “People say everything and it all means nothing unless it’s coming from the right person.” 

He wriggles a hand free from your unaware tightening holding to brush his knuckles against your cheek tenderly. A piece of hair flops over his forehead, curling back upwards, and the buzz of cicadas fills the empty noise around you.

“So, I don’t know if some asshole told you or you just think that you’re wrong, but…” Steve inhales, his eyes darting between yours. 

The brown in them is intense, holding you fixed beneath his heavy gaze. “If— just you said you want to so, we can try and- and we can go slow and I’ll stop the moment you want to, okay? For whatever reason.” 

You feel a strange bubble of hope churn in your gut. It feels too good to be true. 

“…You’re sure?” 

“M’sure,” Steve nods. “Even for something as small as you don’t like the way my dick looks or—“ 

A laugh startles out of you and you shake your head. “I meant more about stopping but good to know anyways.” You pause a moment. “…Should I be worried?” 

You’re teasing. Steve delights in it, his own voice slipping that little bit lower— his knuckles on your cheek swiping across, down your jaw, til he lingers near your neck. 

“Why don’t you find out?” 

The hunger in your tummy returns with a new heat, rivalling the day. You suddenly feel nervous again, a roll of nerves turning over, but this time it feels far closer to anticipation. The kiss you’ve been yearning to give him, hot and messy, burns up inside you and when you rise on your toes, Steve meets you in the middle. 

Your lower back presses against the counter as Steve leans into you, his mouth slotted against yours. One kiss snowballs into another, and another, the fervency growing as you let yourself give into your desire. Your hands on his shoulders shift, trailing down to feel up the chest you’ve been gawking at all day.

Steve lets out a quiet grunt as your nails dig in and his other hand finds your waist, tugging you to press against his body — his other hand slides into your hair, clutching the strands loosely. You sigh into his mouth, nerves still alight beneath your skin but the way they buzz makes you feel good. Steve makes you feel good. 

Right as his hand scrapes along your lower back, heading lower, you’re both startled by the loud beep! that sounds in the kitchen. At the same time you peer around him, Steve turns and gives a sheepish chuckle, seeing the fridge door still ajar from when he’d been fishing around inside. 

He steps away from you, pushing the doors closed gently. Turning back, your chest swells with pride seeing the effect you’re already having on him; red lips, shiny with spit and a faint ruby colour in the apples of his cheeks. Steve smiles, boyish and charming. 

“Do you wanna keep—“ 

“—yes.”

You’re not going to squander this chance, not going to waste the days' chemistry when there’s still that tiny worry niggling in the back of your brain that today is all a fluke. That Steve’s words might just be an offer, something else that wouldn’t be a first for you. 

Steve grins. He holds out his hand and you intertwine yours with him, letting him lead you. Your stomach swoops as he takes you out the kitchen and heads for the stairs, checking back on you with a quick glimpse. You do your best to show him your excitement instead of your nerves. You’re not sure you succeed. 

Squeezing his hand does the trick for a final reassurance. Steve resumes leading you up the stairs, taking a familiar turn towards his bedroom, beginning to talk softly as he does. 

“Remember, anytime, anything you don’t like, just say the word.” 

You both pause, standing in his room and you swallow the doubts that try to claw back up your throat. Giving a sly glance at him, you smile coyly and wiggle your hand out from his. Trailing backwards to his bed, you pretend to think about it, til your thighs hit the edge of the bed. 

“Hmm… well,” You begin, a touch of sultriness dipping into your voice. “I don’t like… that you’re still wearing your shirt.” 

Before you, Steve huffs a silent laugh, that handsome smile gracing his lips as he ducks his head. He doesn’t disappoint though, his arms reaching up behind his head to shuck his shirt off in one fluid motion.

He chucks it aside thoughtlessly and where it lands doesn’t even matter — your eyes are fixed on his chest. His bare chest that you’ve been given permission to properly ogle at. You swear you feel your mouth salivate a bit. 

“Should've known this would go first, considering the way you were drooling outside,” Steve remarks cockily, folding his arms loosely. It makes his biceps bulge and you swallow again, this time nothing to do with nerves. 

“I wasn’t drooling,” You defend weakly, beginning to fidget with the hem of your own shirt. “I was admiring, okay? There’s a difference.” 

Steve saunters over slowly as you talk, steps slow and measured. He’s smirking by the time he’s before you, so close you can feel the heat of him. “Uh huh. Totally, sweetheart, I believe you. Need help with this?” 

His hand has reached out, fingers pinching the same hem you’re fiddling with. You nod slowly, “Yes, please.” 

Steve’s smirk fades into something sweeter and he grabs the hem with two hands, beginning to ruck it up gently, his eyes locked on yours — you raise your arms when it starts to get caught, holding your gaze to his until the fabric intersects. Your arms drop and you push away the urge to wrap them around your middle. 

Steve drops your shirt much more gently than his own but his eyes are still entirely on you. There’s a shine of awe in them now, flicking up at down the newly exposed skin. 

The intensity of his gaze makes you want to shy away but you chose bravery instead, reaching out to grab his side. Steve jumps, barely an inch, and before you even get a chance to question, he’s smiling. “Y’got cold hands, honey.” 

He draws them up to his mouth, laying soft kisses across your knuckles. Heat flushes through you and you melt beneath it, lowering yourself back on the bed. Steve follows eagerly, still kissing at your hands. He kneels between your legs and when he finally drops your hands from his, it’s to reach out and cup your jaw. 

“Keep breathing,” He murmurs quietly, eyes dancing in amusement. You hadn’t even realise you had been holding your breath. You realise it in one big exhale and this time, when you reach for him, you actually succeed in tugging him closer. You tumble backward into his sheets and Steve comes with you, his forearms planted on either side of you and his body pressed up against yours. 

“I don’t like…” You say, continuing the bit from earlier, your voice quiet and still tinged with a poorly hidden nervousness. “That you keep waiting to kiss me.” 

Steve’s brows hike up an inch but his smile hides his surprise easily, his entire face glowing a bit brighter. He looks fucking gorgeous bathed in the buttery sunlight, even though it’s just beginning to fade towards darkness behind the curtains. 

You stare unabashedly up at him, marvelling at his features that are etched in with adoration for you. You follow down the strong line of his nose, along the soft arches in his eyebrows, the faint wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that he has from smiling. 

You study the swell of his cupids bow perched above his pink lips and each of the moles dotted all over your favourite face— and think to yourself it’s not fucking fair that he looks like this. Like he’s been carved from marble and cast in gold. 

Thank God he’s yours. 

He doesn’t disappoint you — his lips finding yours and kissing you deeply, his chest brushing your own. Your entire body seems to sigh at the touch, tingling with anticipation — you’ve been overdue for all these kisses for far too long and it seems once you’ve gotten started, it feels impossible to stop.

You kiss needily, your hands moving off his midriff to drift up to his jawline. You cradle it gently, your lips a little less gentle- you try to remember how to do this, how to nip at his lips teasingly, how to soothe them with your tongue. 

Slowly, Steve’s body weight lowers onto you as he focuses more and more on figuring out what you seem to like. Time melts like candle wax and you feel as goopy as it too, all warm and pliable, softened by his kisses. Heat begins to simmer in your gut. You don’t know how long you’ve been kissing when Steve pulls away, his mouth cherry red and his face flushed. 

His fingers slip beneath the strap of your bra, toying with it but nothing more. He checks over your face as he asks, “Wanna take this off?” 

You nod, breathlessly. Up til now, it’s been easy to turn off your brain and let all your thoughts revolve around getting kissed absolutely stupid by Steve. 

But as his hands work deftly beneath you, unclipping the strap of your bra and beginning to tug it down, you feel the first worry creep in — this is usually when your panties follow, then his boxers, and then the expectations. Even with all your enjoyment, you know that if he tries now, you won’t be ready. 

Frustration bubbles up in your chest, mingling with your insecurity and you squirm a bit, trying to think of how to tell Steve without disappointing him. 

You’re so sick of disappointing people for something you can’t seem to help. 

Steve notices your squirming. His head shoots up to meet your gaze, a furrow back in his brow. “Hey, hey, what’s goin’ on?” 

“I…” Words die on your tongue easily, a war happening inside your throat as you debate what to say. You like him— you really like him and don’t want this to end and… he told you he wants you to tell the truth. 

“I don’t… I’m not—“ Your whisper climbs in volume alongside your frustration. “Steve, this isn’t working.” 

The wrinkle between his brow deepens and it’s not a comforting sight. Steve shifts a bit, his hand moving from the straps of your bra up to your face. He pushes back a few stray locks of hair, eyes sincere. 

“Not working?” He murmurs, “Baby, we’ve only just started.” 

You blink up at him once, twice. Your mouth opens and then closes again. 

You know that but you also know how this goes. Well, you think you know— so why do you suddenly feel so foolish? 

“Oh.” You say shyly. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip and try to ignore feeling like you’ve just ruined the mood. 

Steve takes it all in his stride, nothing but a twitch in his furrows brows as he takes in your embarrassed expression. He leans down, and kisses your neck, then your collarbone. His lips trail down, down, slow and sensual. Your bra scraps down your arms, tossed aside absentmindedly.

“Sweet girl,” he whispers into your skin. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Sorry?” You echo, a bit breathier as Steve's kisses scrape down your breast. Your nipples peak to attention.

“Mhm,” he hums, his lips wrapping around your nipple and sucking— his hands paw greedily at your back which arches eagerly into his kisses. Steve drags his mouth off, beginning to mouth softly down your breast til his plush lips kiss at your sternum. 

“M’sorry that nobody has ever taken care of you before.”

You squirm beneath him at his words, a warm flush washing through your body as desire spins up inside you. Steve continues as if he hasn’t turned your whole view inside-out— his hand shifting up to thumb at your nipple as he takes your nipple back between his lips. 

“Steve…” you sigh out. 

He’s kneading your body in just the right way, the sensitivity of your chest fuelling the pool of heat growing deep in your stomach. You feel your thighs clench together, hips shifting up instinctively. You haven’t been touched like this before and fuck, it’s a lot. 

“I know, honey.” He says lowly, voice muffled against your skin. He suckles at your nipple and just nips at it, a flash of teeth, enough to make you arch further. Your eyes slip shut and you push your chest further out. 

To your disappointment, Steve pulls back instead. Your eyes open, neck craning to look at him, your chest rising and falling with your heavy breaths.

“Y’tell me if there’s anything you don’t like, alright?” 

Somehow, the heat in your gut flares that much hotter — knowing that there’s love behind every motion. You scramble for threads of courage and hold them tightly. Then you bend your legs until you can slide them around his waist, ankles crossing and tugging him closer. His cock, straining in his pants, presses flush against your core, and at the same time you inhale, Steve stutters out a groan. 

“I’ll tell you.” You say, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip to hold back your grin. It melts away as Steve shifts against you purposefully, one of his hands dropping to hold your hip. The hard length of him grinds against your cunt, catching the angle of your clit in a way that makes you mewl beneath him. 

Steve kisses your breast again but your hands are already reaching for him— fingers cupping his jaw to tug him up. Your lips capture his and this time, when he rolls his hips into yours, the soft noise you make is swallowed in his kiss. It’s fervent, your kisses gaining speed and mess. You tighten your ankles and experiment with your grind and are rewarded with a jagged moan from Steve. 

Faintly, you consider how it makes a little more sense now. That all those desperate motions of making out, rutting against each other, hot open-mouth kisses— fuck, if it was always like this, you get it. You feel like you’re on fire. 

A breeze flutters the curtains across the room, the only indication of time outside your little bubble. It’s far too easy to get lost in the motions— building up your lust until you’re sure the cotton between your legs is soaked through. It feels silly but god, even though you knew this was one of the things making all those past times so terrible, you had just assumed that’s how it would always be. 

The stickiness feels vulgar, your cunt pulsating with heat like you’ve never felt before. It just makes it all feel better though— the warm, hard heat of Steve’s cock, fitting snug between your folds. 

A pause in the makeout to catch your breath. You’re huffing wildly and Steve takes the moment of his undistracted attention to focus on the shorts you’re wearing. He doesn’t ask verbally this time but as he hooks his fingers beneath the waistband, his eyes flash up to yours in question. 

You wiggle your hips and Steve takes his cue, the fabric scraping against your skin as it slides down, down, down. To your surprise, Steve goes with them. He gets halfway down the bed, his head aligned with your belly, hands kneading at the flesh of your boobs before he halts. 

“I wanna try something,” He says, looking up at you. He dots a quick kiss onto your skin as he does, not breaking eye contact. “And I think you’re gonna really love it.” 

He drags out the word really, his voice low enough that it rumbles, nearly a purr. 

“It involves a little bit of this.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss into your navel. He kisses nice and slow, the plushness of his lips scraping across the stretch of skin. 

You shiver a little, feeling how your thighs part instinctively and Steve smiles wickedly, seeing the motion. 

“A little—“ He travels further down, his hands sliding to hold the outside of your thighs. He grips the skin and urges it to spread wider— then takes a greedy fat lick along your inner thigh. “—of this.” 

You squirm. It’s unnerving in the best way, having someone so dedicated to making you feel good— but Steve’s face betrays no hint of insincerity. In fact, if you had to guess, you’d say he even looks excited. 

His large tan hands cover your hips, slender fingers curved atop your thighs to keep them pried open. You’re expecting the next question to be getting the final scrap of clothing off you— a mixture of nerves and excitement at the vulnerability that comes with taking them off. 

He doesn’t though. Drawing a line with the tip of his nose, he nuzzles down from the inside of your knee to your thigh, the warmth of his breath fanning across sensitive skin. He kisses your cunt, once, soft. You twitch, a sweet noise pushing past your lips. 

Steve does it again. This time, his lips part and you feel his tongue press through the soaked cotton of your panties — he kisses again, harder, moving over your clit with his tongue. This time you moan and feel your hips tip up to chase his mouth, surprising yourself. 

Fuck, when have you ever been this wet before? The cotton between your legs is sticky and it only gets messier with Steve’s every lick. The duvet crinkles beneath you as you sigh and sink into it, the low throb of pleasure curling up in your gut. 

“Steve,” you sigh his name like it’s a prayer. 

He hums against your core, his fingers gliding beneath the elastic of your panties but not pulling them down just yet. His hot mouth drops lower, his nose pressing into you at the perfect angle. Your breathy exhale is lilted with moans. 

“See?” He murmurs, so low you nearly don’t hear him. 

“S’Nothing wrong with you, sweetheart. Y’just needed…“ His fingers grip your panties and begin to pull and you aid him quickly with a lift of your hips. “…someone to take a little more care with you.” 

Any fear of vulnerability is whirled far away; you need his mouth back on you, like, yesterday. Especially when Steve groans. Like the sight of your glistening cunt is enough to make his cock ache. Your tummy heats further at the thought. 

His hands re-situate, soothing up to your tummy before sliding back down to grasp the tops of your thighs again. He pulls them open wider. 

Pure fire streaks through your nerves, a sweltering pleasurable burn twisting in your gut as Steve’s tongue licks through your folds in one bold stroke. Your hips try to twitch forward but his hands are already there, holding them down. 

There’s one more pause, one soft curse of adoration, as his nose nuzzles along the soft skin of your inner thigh. You feel unbearably warm in his sheets, heat pulsating and dancing beneath your skin. 

“Steve,” you whisper his name again, urging him gently. “Please.” 

“I got you,” He murmurs in response.  “You don’t gotta say please with me,” He hums lowly, then kisses right on your clit, languid and warm, his tongue swirling around it deftly. You cry out softly. 

He drags his mouth off you and if you looked down, you’d see the soft sheen of your slick on his rosy lips. “I wanna give you everything you want.” 

You gasp as he finally puts his mouth on you properly, pleasure dribbling through your core as he suckles on your clit. He’s killer with his tongue, twisting it and flattening it against your bud in a way that has you squirming. The sheets scrunch in your frenzied grip. 

For the first time, you understand why pornos even sound like that— taking a moment to realise the whiney gaspy noise you’re hearing is coming from you. 

“Oh god,” You whine prettily. “That’s— uh— fuck, that’s really good.” 

Between your thighs, you hear and feel the moan Steve gives back. Your thighs are twitching, torn between trying to keep them apart or warm your boyfriend's ears. Your hips are moving, subtle grinds up into Steve’s face and he takes it all appreciatively. He sucks and slurps, tongue dragging down your folds to toy at your clenching hole— making you squeal. 

“Fuck,” he rasps, pulling back for a moment. His voice is doused in arousal. “You’re so wet.” 

Heat plumes low in your tummy as he dives back in, a groan echoing from his throat. The coil in your gut tightens, winding tighter and tighter. Your chest heaves as your voice melts away until everything you say is a whimpery little “yes, yes, yes,” and Steve’s name. 

His huge hands are still pressing your thighs apart but one shifts suddenly, barely noticeable in your mounting euphoria, until it’s tapping at your hand fisted in the sheets. 

You lift your head, confused, and peer down at him. 

It’s a mistake. His hand is resting on the bed in front of your own, propped up and fingers spread. It's clear he wants to hold your hand. Chest heaving and still lightly moaning, your eyes dart from his hand to his face — and that’s the mistake. 

He’s fucking beautiful. Hair mussed, rosy-cheeked, and dark-eyed, Steve can only hold eye contact for a moment before his eyelids slip shut as he moans against your cunt. Fire blooms under your skin, coil turned tighter and together. He wants to hold your hand. Your fingers just manage to tangle with Steve’s, holding tight, as you tip over the edge with a cry. 

It’s intense — jagged waves of pleasure that ride through every nerve in your body and have you nearly overwhelmed with how fucking good it feels. Incoherent babbling whines pour from your mouth. Your thighs lock up, beating Steve’s strong hold now that he’s down to just one hand, and close around his head. He moans in response, his tongue never letting up, licking and sucking at your cunt fervently. 

And he holds your hand the whole way through. 

You feel thoroughly flattened by the time your orgasm tapers off, your legs relaxing and flopping tiredly against the bed. Vaguely, you’re aware you should apologise for likely cutting off his oxygen flow for a good couple of seconds there but you’re too out of breath yourself to do so. 

Your chest rises and falls and a sweet contentment settles into your skin. You feel happy, loved. Without meaning to, an awed laugh titters out of you. 

Then another, and another. You can’t seem to stop laughing, a gleeful silly joy as you release his hand to bury your face in your own. 

“Holy shit,” you whisper to yourself. Then, slightly louder. “Holy shit, Steve.” 

You hear him laugh and the sheets crinkle — and then he’s in your field of vision, hovering over you with an adoring grin on his face. His lips are still so pink and there’s a shine on his chin. He wipes it away absentmindedly, focused on you. 

“I take it you enjoyed yourself?” He says, genuine and not at all cocky. He settles down, one arm on either side of your chest. One of his hands sweeps over your face sweetly. 

You nod, tucking your bottom lip behind your teeth to constrain your grin. 

“Uh huh,” you say, voice all gooey. “I didn’t—“ 

You pause. “I thought— and then you— and Oh my Goddd.” You cover your face with your hands again, groaning exaggeratedly as you try to roll over and melt away into his bed sheets. 

“See? I told you it wasn’t you,” Steve says, peppering little kisses where he can reach. He kisses your shoulder, along the side of your face. He coaxes you out gently, pressing your shoulder to roll you onto your back. You face him properly.

“There is nothing wrong with you.” He reminds you. You’ve never been so happy to be wrong. You nod, hair scrunching against the pillow behind you. 

“Okay,” You say, with a small smile, finally believing it. “There’s nothing wrong with me.” 

Steve’s stare is glowing with fondness and the next moment, he’s lurching forward to press his mouth to yours. You kiss back greedily and lazily all at once.

He pulls back and you hate how the thought comes to you, unbidden; the smallest wrinkle creasing between your brows. 

“But,” You begin, voice small. “That wasn’t sex though.” 

Steve’s head tilts an inch, like an adorably confused puppy. “What do you mean? That was sex.” 

“What? That was— that was like second base.”

Steve huffs a laugh, though not directed at you. His gaze shifts above your head as he chooses his words. “Uhh, sure, if we were still in high school. But even then, that’s still sex. We just had some sex.” 

Stating it so plainly, you can’t help how it makes you giggle a bit. Steve rolls his eyes, even though you can tell he’s entirely endeared. 

“We just had sex,” You repeat his words, eyes bright and grin growing. “And I really enjoyed it.” 

Steve laughs loudly and steals a quick kiss from you. Holding up his hand, he wiggles his eyebrows at you. “Just had sex high-five?” He jokes. 

You slap your hand against his anyways, twisting your fingers to hold onto his hand as you let them fall to the bed. Steve beams, cuddling in closer, the tip of his nose nuzzling against your own. 

Turns out, you might be starting to get the whole big deal around sex after all. 

[jonathansthickthighs]

My Sweetest Heart: Yandere! Fushiguro Toji x Reader

Description: You have a one night stand with Toji and now he won’t leave you alone.

Part 2 here

Part 3 here

Part 4 here

Part 5 here

Masterlist

Trigger Warnings: nsfw, yandere, obsessive behavior, female reader, AFAB reader, toxic behavior, stalking, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up), alternative universe (no curses), daddy kink, age gap (reader is in her early 20’s, toji is in his mid 30’s)

A/N: hello! this is my first time posting anything here. if anyone reads this, i hope you enjoy. if you do, i might continue it :)

Not edited!

You were uncertain how you ended up with your legs on each side of your head as this beast of a man you didn’t even know thrust deeply into you. You weren’t even aware you were this flexible before this. However, you weren’t complaining as you felt the tip of his thick, hard member collide with your g-spot repeatedly. He had made you reach your peak three times by now and it was evident that stopping wasn’t in his plans. His grunts and moans only fueled your horniness, hearing a man make some noise during intimacy could rile any woman up.

“This tight lil’ pussy is driving me crazy, sweetheart. Fuck— you gonna let me feel you come on me again? Lemme feel you flutter around my cock, baby, please.” He begged into your ear, his low, raspy voice sending waves of pleasure all over your body. This man knew what he was doing to you.

You moaned loudly, feeling his dick twitch inside you. “I need it, Toji! Don’t fucking stop!”

“That’s right. Say my fuckin’ name, baby. Tell me who this pussy belongs to.” You thought this to be impossible, but he started drilling you harder, making your eyes roll to the back of your skull and forcing you to succumb into the delightful sensation that his large prick brought you. The room was filled with the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your ass repeatedly, your juices pooling on the sheets of the bed. It didn’t take long for your pussy to clench around his dick, announcing the arrival of your orgasm.

“Oh fuck! I’m gonna— I’m g-gonna come, Toji!” You gasped as you squeezed his cock, making him shudder. You were forcing him to come.

“Holy s-shit.” He cursed as you milked his cock. Long, thick spurts of semen started painting your walls white, making your combined juices overflow from your abused hole. He stilled inside your pussy as he finished riding his high, laying his head on your breasts once he was done.

You thought it was over, until you felt him starting to suckled on your nipples.

“Lemme take you again, sweetheart.” He groaned, his voice muffled by your breasts. Jesus, does this man have unlimited energy? He flipped you over onto your stomach on a swift motion, as if you weighed nothing to him. Somehow, you still had enough strength to keep yourself up on your hands and knees. He spread your ass cheeks open and watched as his seed dripped out of your cunt slowly, like it was seducing him into sliding himself inside you once more. He hissed, feeling his dick get painfully hard again.

“Gods, what a beautiful sight.” Toji grasped his shaft, stroking it a few times before pressing the tip against your entrance, forcing a moan out of you. “You want it, you slut? Wanna feel daddy’s dick splitting you open again?”

You weren’t experienced with men.

In fact, this was your very first one night stand. You wanted to experience for once in your life what it meant to be free and to have control over your own body, so when you saw Toji looking directly at you from across the bar, you knew he was going to be the one fucking your brains out tonight.

You had decided to go out with your girl friends to decompress from work when one of them pointed out the dark haired, exquisite looking man that had been staring at you the entire night. You didn’t know if it was the fact that a man that looked like that had been eyeing you up this whole time or if you were just tipsy, but you got a sudden burst of confidence that pushed you to go talk to him.

He seemed extremely pleased you approached him, excited even. He was noticeably older than you, but not old enough to be your father. You had never paid much attention to men his age, but something about this absolute hunk of a man pulled you to him. Looking at him up close made you nervous, the confidence you felt earlier, slowly turning into shyness. This man was definitely the most handsome man you’ve laid your eyes on. Judging by the smirk on his face he enjoyed your shyness. He thought it was cute.

To your surprise you had a very fluid, enjoyable conversation. He knew how to have a good time. You could feel a sincere interest coming from him, he wanted to get to truly know you, asking you questions about yourself, your likes, your hobbies and your life in general.

It was a shame you only wanted to fuck him.

At this point of your life you weren’t looking for a relationship. You had just gotten out of a five year relationship with your first ever boyfriend a few months ago and you simply weren’t ready to get into another commitment just yet. You had been with you first boyfriend since you were teenagers and you never got to explore what it felt like to be young and single. You wanted to learn how to be alone.

So you cut Toji short politely inviting him over to your place and he didn’t even hesitate to agree.

This is how to ended up with this man pounding you sore pussy from behind like a madman.

You moaned wantonly as he spanked your ass red, your ass jiggled with each harsh thrust. “Pussy’s so fuckin’ good, baby. The bes’ one I’ve ever felt.” Toji was so pussy drunk, he could barely form words.

You looked over your shoulder wanting to see his expression and god was the sight gorgeous. His mouth hanging open and his brows furrowed, his body dripping with sweat. Then he opened his eyes and looked directly into yours. You both had the same expression.

“Oh, don’t you give me that slutty face. I’m not gonna last.” Toji grunted, delivering another slap to your ass. You smirked and let out a moan as you started pushing your ass towards him, trying to meet his thrusts. You squeezed your pussy tighter around him feeling him twitch inside you.

“You fuckin’ whore. You want me to fill you up with my cum again don’t you?” He said between a moan and a chuckle. “Tell me you want it, baby.”

“I want it so bad, daddy. Please empty your balls inside me!” Your fifth orgasm was approaching as well.

“Take it!” He bottomed out releasing his seed straight into your womb, making you scream as your own orgasm took over squirting all over his crotch and thighs. Your legs finally giving up as you crashed onto the bed.

Toji pulled out slowly, groaning at the sensitivity. He laid down besides you, admiring your sweaty, red face. He thought you looked the most beautiful like this. “How about we take a shower together, sweetheart?”

So you did and you let him spend the night.

After all, how bad could it be?

The next morning you woke up with a pair of strong arms wrapped around you. You almost got scared until you remembered what happened last night, you could not believe you actually had sex with a stranger. You covered your mouth as you giggled quietly in disbelief. You knew this wasn’t going to become something frequent, you weren’t the type to sleep around, but you had to admit it had been a great experience and you were glad it had been with a man as experienced as Toji. It probably wouldn’t have worked out as well if it wasn’t for him, so you had to give him some credit.

Speaking of which, you could feel Toji stirring awake. You turned around to look at him and you were received with a sleepy smile. “Mornin’, sweetheart.”

“Morning.” You replied back feeling your shyness take over.

“Don’t get shy with me now, I saw your entire being last night.” He joked, giving your cheek a sweet kiss. Are men usually this affectionate after causal sex?

You blushed from embarrassment, he really did see your entire being. You started to get up, only to be stopped by a hand grabbing your arm. “Where you going so early, baby? Let me keep you warm for a little longer.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Toji. If I don’t get up now, I’m gonna be late for work!” You answered giving him a courteous smile. You weren’t certain why he was being so doting, you didn’t know if this was normal behavior after a one night stand. What you did know was that, that’s all you wanted it to be. Simply a night of good, casual sex with a hot guy you met at a bar. A man you would never have to see again and to you it was safe to assume that Toji was the type of man looking for the same thing as you.

“I see. Well, maybe we could grab some coffee and I can drop you off at work. How does that sound?”

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“Lunch?” He insisted.

“Toji—“ He cuts you off by pressing his scarred lips to yours, tangling his fingers with your hair.

He pulled away, his finger still holding your hair. “Baby, don’t worry. Just give me your number and we can schedule something for when you’re available.”

You felt odd. How can you get out of this situation? You hated this, you’ve never been in a position like this before. You felt helpless as you hesitantly agreed to give him your number. The weirdest part being that he never let go of your hair until you entered you contact information into his phone. It felt threatening in a way, even if his grip on you was loose.

He let go of your hair when you handed him his phone back. “Perfect. Let me just call you real quick so you can save my number.” Good thing you didn’t give him a fake number. “I’ll get going then. I’ll text you later, sweetheart.” Toji smirked, pecking your lips before walking out of them room.

You let out a sigh of relief once you heard your front door slam closed. You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until now. You were feeling exasperated, you were already praying he never contacted you.

Maybe last night was a mistake.

Toji was a troubled man. He knew it. The people around him knew it.

They say no one is born evil, but from the moment he gained conscious he doesn’t remember a moment when he was truly good and quite frankly, he preferred it stayed that way. He had been raised around pain and suffering. He was brought into this world to become an assassin from a young age. He was brought to inflict nothing but agony and that’s all he knew how to do. He doesn’t remember a single moment of happiness from his early childhood to his adult life. He was made to believe he didn’t deserved love and he believe it because he never did anything worthy of it. He knew he wasn’t a good man.

He knew he wasn’t a good man and that’s why he didn’t feel guilty about all the times he followed you as you walked back to your place from work.

The moment he laid his eyes on you, something changed deep within him. There was a feeling he’d never felt before and it felt… good?

You first saw Toji at that bar, but Toji?

Oh, Toji first saw you at least two months before that.

Rain was pouring over him, but he could care less because what he was witnessing right now was perhaps the most breathtaking, heart-bursting sight in his entire existence. It was you. The answer to all his problems just walked past him in the torrential rain. He was amazed that not even the rain could conceal your beautiful face, he could see it perfectly clear. You were wearing some type of uniform that clung to your body thanks to the weather. Toji couldn’t help but admire the shape of your body, instantly getting hard at the sight of your nipples hardening from the cold rain under your white shirt. You had only walked by him for a few seconds, but to him it felt like an eternity. It was almost as if you were walking in slow motion. In spite of being distracted by your beauty, he was still an extremely observant man and was able to descry the name of the company you worked for on the logo planted on your shirt.

Toji wasn’t a good man. That’s why he stalks you any time he can, to him he’s just making sure you’re safe. That’s why loves breaking into your place and stealing your clothes and anything he can get his hands on that will make him feel closer to you. He particularly loves laying on your bed and smelling your sheets, your scent was simply divine. That’s why he tugs on his cock any time he caught sight of you. That’s why he would drag any man that dared approach you —hell, even look at you— to an empty alley and beat them to a pulp without a care for their sorry lives. He was an assassin, it’s all he knew how to do.

Toji wasn’t a good man, but he wanted to be for you.

He couldn’t stand hiding behind your shadow any longer, he was growing desperate. He felt pathetic, this feeling was alien to him and he hated it. He needed you to notice him.

Imagine his luck when he saw you walk into the bar that night. Toji was over the moon. Both of you were finally at the same place at the same time and he didn’t even need to fake a scenario for it to occur.

Toji was having an internal battle with himself, trying to find a way to approach you where you wouldn’t find him creepy. You were with your friends which made it harder for him to come up with a way to swoop you away. He never had trouble getting any woman to bed him, but you weren’t just any woman. You were special to him. He wanted to keep you, provide for you, protect you, love you.

He didn’t realize how long he had been staring at you until he noticed one of your friends point him out. He freaked out internally until he saw you move your gaze towards him and he swore his heart could come out through his mouth at any moment. This was the first time he ever made eye contact with you and he couldn’t wait to hold your gaze for the rest of your lives. To his surprise, you smiled at him.

He observed as you whispered something to your friend before standing up.

You were walking towards him.

All this time thinking about how to approach you and now you were coming to him.

That night he had the best time he’s had in his life. Getting to talk to you, look at you up close was indescribable to him. Although he wished he could’ve spoken to you more, he didn’t mind how the night ended at all. Getting to enjoy your delicious little body was the best part of it. He gave you his all. He wanted to make sure you were ruined for any other man, he wanted you to only think of him from that night forward.

He really thought he had achieved that.

But the next morning you were so cold to him it broke his heart to a million pieces.

But that’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll win your heart over. ♥︎

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello omg I love your soft sylus writing a lot !!

May I request please a reader where she loves sylus so much that she tries to express it by words but can’t cause she is so shy and never done so and sylus encourage it and tease her

LOVE UR WRITING

You had something to say and it clear as day to Sylus that you were lost within the internal conflict raging on within your mind, weighing out the pros and cons of speaking truthfully of your heart to him. And while it was adorable to watch you squirm and struggle to articulate your thoughts into coherent sentences for the first five minutes, Sylus was soon aware that since your so hesitant in taking the first step, he’ll have to take the first step on your behalf by grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you onto his lap.

‘Somethings on your mind kitten, it’s eating away at you and I want to know what it is that’s been consuming you from the inside out.’ He says while tightening his grip on your wrist just enough to keep you from being able to pull away, but enough where he’s not bringing you to any harm. You could practically feel your heart in your throat as it righted in on itself, it didn’t help that Sylus’s crimson eyes were peering into you in a way that made it seem as though he knew but loved to watch you suffer. ‘I- I don’t-‘ you stopped before you could even say a full sentence as everything leading up to now had resurfaced in your mind.

You knew you loved Sylus, you have for a while now, but past experiences or close to the sort have made you hesitant in making the first move and into something more meaningful between the two of you. You remember times where you would wonder whether you’d be luckily enough to be blessed with having someone become interested in you, fully investing their time and energy into what you had to say, their eyes remained on you as though they couldn’t bring themselves to look at anyone else.

You wanted everything you’ve seen in movies or read in books so badly, but even if you did find someone who was interested by you, you tended to pull away before they could get close enough to see the real you and become distant because you didn’t fulfill their idea of you that was unrealistic. You couldn’t help it for after being on your own for a long while you have grown accustomed to the idea that you might be left to your own company, maybe have a cat and or a dog in the future to make up for the lack of connection. So the idea of sharing your space with anyone else has always made you feel seriously self conscious and unable to articulate your thoughts and feelings like you’d like to.

However soon Sylus came into your life and you felt the same way you did when you were still talking to the person you preciously liked. You felt jittery, scared, excited and eagerly anticipated when you’d next see Sylus again while occasionally on the look out for Mephisto. Yet once you realised what you were feeling, what you were doing, a cold sense of dread filled you and unfortunately Sylus’s actions towards you only made it even harder for you to deny what was happening between you two.

Sylus would go out of his way to hold you by the small of your back in crowded spaces, keeping you close proximity to him, lightly touch your shoulder or stand closer to you then normal and even get in your face to watch your expressions as he did some lighthearted teasing. He was in your personal space and he was everywhere you went, and since it happened so often it came to a point where you were actively seeking out the tall man with crimson eyes and snow/silvery hair without realising it. The implications scared you gravely to the point where recently you’ve tried to avoid Sylus…only for Luke and Kieran along with Mephisto to find you and inform Sylus before he greeted you in person.

Sylus took your chin in his free hand and moving your head so you were back to staring into his observant eyes rather than to your fiddling fingers. ‘Use your words kitten, after all I’ve got all the time for you to sort out what you want to say.’ He tells you as a smirk played upon his lips as he watched your eyes widened a tad and your breath hitched in your throat. Sylus then taps a finger against your lips softly, letting it linger there for a bit. ‘So speak your mind sweetheart, speak it to me and don’t be afraid of the consequences,’ he then leans forward to rest his head against yours as his eyes looked at your lips briefly before looking back into your eyes, ‘you might like what happens afterwards.’ He finishes as he caresses your jawline with his fingers.

‘Don’t.’ You tell him sternly, taking Sylus back a little. ‘Don’t say things like that if you’re just going to be giving me false promises and leave after I say it.’ You reiterated as you looked at his face as you felt a wave of embarrassment over come you as everything within you screamed to protect yourself.

‘What makes you think I won’t take what you say to me seriously? Have I given you any doubt to distrust me into thinking I would laugh at your innermost emotions?’ Sylus asked and when you didn’t respond his smirk faltered as a serious emotions overcame his face and he took a deep breath. ‘You know I would never laugh at your emotions right? What do I have to gain in knowing your feelings? For I would never use it against you, not when I know that I’d loose you and your trust for that matter.’ Sylus told you as he lets go of your wrist to hold your face between his palms instead, stroking your cheeks softly that you couldn’t help but melt into his touch.

‘I love you Sylus.’ You admitted softly but clearly enough for him to hear as his thumbs stopped caressing your cheeks. ‘I always knew I love you but didn’t want to say anything incase you’d find another person to call your muse, to call your kitten or sweetheart. Someone who can keep up with you where I can’t. I knew I couldn’t confess if I knew that this thing between us will never be anything but serious.’ You continued as you felt everything come to the surface, easing the weight upon your shoulders greatly as you could feel yourself breath properly once more.

Sylus didn’t say anything at first and it worried you, especially with the way he keeps his gaze locked on you as though nothing else mattered in this moment but you. It felt as though he could see right through you and directly into your soul and it made you feel a little exposed and vulnerable. It scared it greatly that your fears were proven right, so much that in the moment you tried to move yourself off of his lap, only for Sylus to pull you in closer to him by your face until you were touching noses and lips were ghosting over the others.

‘Sylus-‘ before you could finish your sentence, Sylus was quick to press his lips to yours as he began to weave his lips between yours with a tenderness and passion you weren’t expecting after confessing your innermost feelings. He held your face as though it was porcelain as he deeper the kiss, moving a hand to the back of your head to keep you close to him, all the while his other hand rested on your waist to pull you further into him as though you weren’t already physically close enough. It was passionate, sweet and warm as you found yourself putting your hands on his shoulders, bunching up the fabric of his expensive shirt under your grip as you melted into the kiss; wanting nothing but to forget everything else except the taste of his lips on yours.

Only for your lungs to burn, forcing you to pull away from him as you catches your breath.

Sylus smirked as he hurried his head into your neck, breathing heavily as his fingers traced your skin over your clothes lovingly while you rested your head against his shoulder, soaking in his warmth and comforting feeling you get from cuddling against his chest. ‘I told you I wouldn’t take you nor your emotions for granted kitten, why would I do that to the person I love?’ He says against your neck and you couldn’t help but smile goofily at his own confession as your heart fluttered.

You were glad that you finally got your feelings off of your chest…even if it did take a little nudge from your crimson eyed beloved to do so as you spent the rest of the evening in his arms and whispering sweet nothings to one another.

[xazse]

AFAB!SUGURU GETO X OLDERMALE!READER

Notes: I wanted to hop on the Afab!Geto because I love it!

Tags: Deepthroating, manhandling, blowjobs, NASTY SMUTTT, mentions of Afab!Gojo (little surprise near the end

Pairings: Afab!Suguru Geto x OlderMale!Reader

Suguru doesn’t know how to feel about his next door neighbor: you, you’re very nice, maybe even more than nice: you insist on bringing him and satoru your cooked food if you’ve made too much some days, but hell he isn’t one to complain about free, warm food. You’re an older gentleman, late 30’s, a very nice hefty build on you, Suguru won’t lie and say he isn’t attracted to your prominent features; anyone would be.

He makes eyes at you sometimes, coming out to talk to you when you’re doing yardwork offering you a sweet concoction he made. You’re so polite with your speech, the way you carry yourself, everything about you screams maturity.

But he also loves your mean side, the side where your gripping his hair so tightly he knows he’ll have a headache later: but it’s so worth it when you shove his face towards your crotch, inhaling your scent, your cock isn’t even out and suguru’s head already feels like he’s on cloud nine.

His tongue weighs his mouth down as he waits for permission, permission to have your cock in all its glory.

“Fuck.. ple” he pleads with you, when you finally grant him the privilege, he hurriedly pulls your pants along with your underwear around your knees. You waste no time in shoving his face into your crotch again, his tongue laves all around your cock, seemingly having no control or care to give you specific pleasure. Licking up all traces of your precum has him so distracted that he doesn’t even hear you telling him to suck you properly until a heavy hand pulls him back: and forcing him to take you until the hilt.

He’s sputtering while you use his mouth as you please: pulling him all the way off just to fuck his throat all over again, it’s a repeated motion you do multiple times, before you pull him off of your cock and have him give your heavy balls some attention, he alternates between then but always making sure to give some attention to your tip in the process.

Suguru doesn’t even have to look down to know his panties are sopping wet, he wants so badly to reach down and play with his clit but you won’t allow that, that’s for you and you only to do. But finally, finally after a few more moments of Suguru pleasuring you do you have him face down, ass up. You pull his thin panties to the side, His cunt really was dripping wet, it embarrasses him when you point it out over and over calling him a dirty slut, smacking his ass to emphasize just how dirty he is and of course he groans.

You line your weeping tip up with his hole, making sure to use your tip to press on his clit a few times just for good measure youll tell him. The stretch of you pushing past him is too good, better than those lonely nights where he’d have to use his fingers to get a half assed orgasm if he can even call it that.

You give him a few moments to breathe, allowing him to have calmness before you wreck him and that you do, after a few of experiment strokes do you really give it to him.

Hammering into his cunt has him howling into the couch, his naughty pussy keeps sucking you back in everytime you pull out: suguru feels like he has a lack of air from the strong thrust of your hips, he whines and whines, you feel his pussy clench around you. You take a hold of his hips holding him in place while his cunt contracts around you and he’s cumming around you, he yelps and pleads while you help him ride it out slowly.

You both go still before your cock starts fucking into him again, suguru knows this will be a long night of you wringing orgasm after orgasm out of him.

Satoru really can’t sleep, he’s wide awake and painfully throbbing in his shorts, hearing the hard grunting from you paired with sugurus loud whining has him breathing hard. He doesn’t bother with underwear most nights so it’s rather easy for him to slide his fingers inbetween his slippery cunt,

he knows he shouldn’t indulge, knows he shouldn’t be touching himself like this especially to someone he’s so close with.

But he can’t help but rub his clit, a circle motion done over and over, he should really really stop, it’s gross, but his lust outweighs everything. Satoru has felt a little attraction towards you but compared to the way suguru looks at you: he’s got nothing on the table, but he’d also never get involved with sugurus relations. He keeps up with the circle motions but feels empty: so empty, trying to finger himself just isn’t doing it: satoru wants more, something bigger, he can’t do anything but pathetically try to get off: already feeling tears decorate his eyeline from frustration.

[thewritetofreespeech]

words: 1.3K rating: E pairing: Gale x Tav [pining stages of Act 1] summary: After so long of being unable to touch, Gale is finally able to experience physical intimacy for the first time in a long time. Even if it's just by himself. [ based off of a request for more details on the bg3 masturbation headcanons I did previously.]

---------------------------🟣----------------------------------

It had been a few hours now since Elminster had left. His old friend likely on the long journey back to Waterdeep, or whatever far parts of the realm ancient powerful wizards wandered off to.

Gale touched his chest for the first time in a while without total fear. The spell Elminster had put on him had worked. The orb felt less volatile than in the past. It was still there, laying heavy near his heart like a stack of bricks, but not like a stack of tinder boxes waiting to explode.

The knowledge of what this respite came with also weighed heavy on his heart. Mystra has asked that he make the ultimate sacrifice for the realm, and for her forgiveness. The latter of which was not guaranteed.

There had been a time during the beginning of his banishment when he would have gladly done as she asked. Blown himself up in spectacular glory. Opened every vein and let his life blood spill out to paint her likeness on an open canvas. He would have done anything for Mystra. But now….

Gale looked across the camp to where Tav was chatting with Lae’zel and Shadowheart. The three in a heated discussion from the looks of it, likely on what to do about the crèche and how to infiltrate it. Where they go next is of little concern to Gale, because it has no consequence for the damned, so he just looked at Tav as they tried to mitigate the argument.

Since that time in the Weave with them, Gale had been nearly fixated on their leader with a passion he thought only reserved for his goddess and books. But what he felt for Tav was so very different from those feelings. Where he revered Mystra he…respected Tav. Their strength. Their decisiveness. Their generosity to help and extend a hand to any in need. Their willingness to admit fault. He’d been beguiled, and the outer package did very little to help dissuade their spell.

Gale felt a tell-tale tightening of his pants beneath his robes as he continued to look and think on Tav, and was prepared to dampen those feelings down like always. With the orb he couldn’t risk any undo stimuli to his person; not with an ancient blight that wiped out civilization stowed away in his chest. But….that wasn’t an issue anymore, was it? The clock had stopped, as Elminster said, so he didn’t have to worry about blowing up. Just doing it at the right time, according to Mystra’s orders.

The wizard slipped back into his tent, unnoticed by anyone. He didn’t think that anyone would bother him right now. Assuming that Gale needed time to think in light of the circumstances. Which, he did, but not right now. There would be plenty of time to hyper fixate on his problems later. Right now, he wanted to test a new theory.

Unlacing his top tunic, he looking down his body towards his bulge now visible in his pants. Gale hesitated, but then slowly drew his hand closer to rub his palm over it. Instantly he moaned. It had been so long since he had felt the sensation of touch this way on his body. Depression and then fear drying up his libido like herbs on his balcony back in Waterdeep. But now a summer rain had come to refresh it. A reprieve. A chance to feel again. He didn’t want to waste it.

Removing the lacings on his pants as well, Gale opened his trousers and his cock sprung free. Seeming to know what was going on and more eager than its master to be touched again. He grasped the shaft and began to stroke himself. A burning tingle crackling up from his fingertip, down to the base, and up his spine. He forgot how good it felt to be touched. How long had it been since he touched himself?

With Mystra, their intimacy had always been noncorporeal. Mind altering. Mind shattering. But bodies completely removed from the process. He thought he didn’t need touch when he had the ‘touch’ of a goddess, so he did not imbibe in such activities. Then the option was taken away from him, and he could not imbibe. So he genuinely could not remember hold long it had been. Had it always been this good? Or was his long bout of abstinence merely the cause?

Gale couldn’t think more on his hypothesis as his hand sped up and his mind became soul focused on that feeling. He was beginning to pant. Drooling, even. He can feel that he was going to cum fast but doesn’t stop. His seed shot out in a long, thick ribbon on the side of his tent that he would clean up later, but he doesn’t stop. He needed more. Even as his cock twitched from having just came, it still cried out for more.

His other hand came up to touch his body. Play with his chest. Touch his nipples. He couldn’t remember how he used to like it before, and his fogged mind was not helping make decisions. His hand reached down into his pants as well to cup his balls, and Gale was cumming again quickly as he fondled himself. Still not enough.

Moving to take off all of his clothes and lay down on his cot, Gale attempted to calm his breathing as he slowed his hand. His cum acted as a lubricant now to help slide his hand over the still hard flesh. He hadn’t been able to jerk off this many times in a row since he was a boy.

As his hand slowed, the fog in his mind seemed to clear a little. Breaking way to the brightness of Tav’s face. He wondered how they would touch him. How those hands that gripped their weapon so tight, and the callouses at their palms, would feel against his cock. Gale whimpered at the thought. His hands were too soft to imagine it properly.

He thought of them being here, with him. Kissing them like he should have during that moment in the Weave. Touching their body as well as they moaned and whined under him. He could almost see it. Conjure it. But he would not insult Tav by making some malformed copy of them with magic. He wanted the real thing.

His fantasy continued until he came a third time, hot & sticky over his hand, and Gale seemed to calm down. Feeling finally sated for the first time in a long time. Who knew masturbation could be a form of self-care?

“Gale.”

The wizard jumped. His pliable peace ruined as he heard a familiar voice outside his tent. One he had just been fantasizing about moments ago. “Y-Yes?”

“I um…I just wanted to make sure you were ok. And see if you wanted anything for dinner?”

Gale was surprised as he didn’t realize how late it had gotten. “Oh. Dinner? No, not really. I can get started soon….”

“No, no! That wasn’t what I was asking. I can do it tonight. You just…if you need some time…we’ll be out here when you’re ready.”

He heard the shuffle of boots walk away from his tent. Their concern touched him. The clear worry in his voice over him pulling something in him that not only made his loins burn but his chest feel tight. But in a good way, not in the way this damned orb felt.

Gale decided then and there that he would not waste what little time he had left on wishes & fantasy. He would tell Tav how he felt. Then he could die without regret. He would just need to come up with a plan to tell them. Someone as beautiful, kind, and perfect as Tav deserved more than just a simple confession. The deserved the moon, the stars.

Gale’s eyes widened as he suddenly remembered a spell he’d created long ago. He’d have to remember how it was done but yes. Yes! That could work.

[morallygreychaoticneutral]

Astarion prefers monogamy.

Again, simply my cup of thought tea steeped from my game experience. Its not everyone's drink. No shame, no blame, it's your game. Warning for triggers and spoilers.

*added note due to misunderstandings.

Please notice I said "prefers monogamy" not "is monogamous". He may be up for added partners later on down the line. But definitely not any time before the epilogue in my world.

So, why do I think he prefers monogamy?

Take..

"Iv never had anyone. Not really. Nothing that compares to you."

And mix that with...

"I had nothing for so very long. NOTHING! Not even my own body!"

And add..

"You're you. Nobody is like that."

Plus countless other comments and actions and you get a bowl full of elf who just wants something for himself only for a change.

Centuries of being forced to give up or share everything. His possessions, his person, his own thoughts. Nothing to claim as own that no one else could take or touch at any moment. I'm sure if anything was given to him, he had to fight to keep it.

I think, he would be a bit possessive of anything he could claim as his own.

You are a gift to him. Something rare and special beyond words. I highly doubt he would be willing to share anything you are sharing with him outside of friendship. I could even see him getting fussy about strangers touching you. Moving you away or putting himself physically between you and whomever just touched you without asking.

Hells, even ascended Astarion isn't 100% game to share.

"As much as I wish to sequester you in a deep chamber of my palace and keep you all to myself...there is much to be done."

But, what about Halsin? He says he's fine with it.

Is he? Or is he people pleasing?

If he had said something along the lines of,

"Oh? He wants to share does he? Of course he does. I'm not up for such activities just yet, but you are free to have as much Halsin as you wish. "

I would have gone on that bear hunt, but he doesn't.

He askes you if you are wanting to sleep with Halsin because he has not been able to meet your sexual needs. And I interpreted that as he's vulnerable and worried he's being replaced for not putting out.

Imagine you had asked your lover to not to look to you for sex for reasons you are working out. They agree and you are just relieved as hell about it.

"You were patient. You cared."

Then they come along later down the line and say they are thinking about having sex with a friend. Where would your mind go?

I would bet hard gold he weighed the options in his head. "If I don't let them do this, they might leave me for good. But if I allow it, they wont have an immediate reason to leave. Halsin is the safest option given his experience."

And what's the best way to feel less awful about a situation we cant control? Create a counter situation where we gaslight ourselves into thinking its fine.

Wheeee!

I'm not saying Halsin's offer was bad, it was perfectly fine, it was just poorly placed in the grand scheme of things. If you and Astarion were having fun again before he suggested being an extra, then it would have been easier to believe he was really fine with it.

If they wanted Astarion to be a poly partner they needed to write it better. Shadowheart makes more sense as pro poly than he does.

So for me, Astarion is a one on one elf.

I am not against polyamory. I am not trying to take representation away. I am not shaming anybody for their choices. There is just not enough specific content to support it fully FOR ME. I was actually excited at the idea of having two partners in my fantasy world. Halsin was very clear and very specific about being on board. Astarion was not. And the choice did not feel right. Add a line somewhere for Astarion where he says "Im perfectly fine with sharing, darling. As long as it is discussed and we are in agreement of course." I will happily be on board with it.

[takamimami]

Like a Moth to a Flame

Pairing: Eustass Kidd + f!Reader + Roronoa Zoro (no use of y/n)

Where are my Zoro/Kidd lovers?!? I'm sick and this is what I spent my day sitting on my couch typing. 11 pages of straight debauchery. Enjoy :3

CW: SMUT, a literal fever dream bear with me, threesome, cunnilingus, deepthroating, rough sex, Zoro is a meanie :3, cuckolding, yes Kidd gets cucked, lots of teasing, slight power play dynamics, dom/sub vibes all around, Zoro calls you 'pretty girl', Kidd calls you 'angel' --- word count: 4.7k

🔞NSFW; MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS KEEP IT MOVING🔞

Summary: Eustass Kidd doesn't own you - doesn't belong to you nor do you belong to him, and he certainly doesn't care what you choose to do with your free time..... unless it happens to not be him. How will he handle you taking someone from an ally crew to bed? The answer: not well. OR Maybe Eustass Kidd just needs to see you get your guts rearranged in order to realize that he does, in fact, give a shit about you.

From the moment he saw you talking to the Straw Hat’s swordsmen, Kidd could tell that something in him piqued your interest. He’d seen it the first time the two of you interacted after the alliance was formed - the way you seemed to gravitate toward him as everyone discussed strategy and tactics, the way you smirked every time Zoro’s eyes lingered on you a little longer than they did anyone else as everyone recounted their experiences during the raid. And now Kidd watched as his suspicions were confirmed, noting how you pressed your shoulders back and your chest against his arm as the two of you sipped sake together.

Kidd could feel himself growing restless as the festivities began to wind down for the night, ready to retire back to the comfort of his ship. As he finishes the last of the drink in his hand he scans the crowd for his lot, eyes settling back on you as you continue to get cozy with the pirate hunter.

He waves a hand in Killer’s direction as he stands and walks toward you, your eyes flicking to him as he saunters over. You quirk a brow at him and unconsciously pull away from Zoro, the action not unnoticed by the swordsman as he flicks his eyes between you and Kid.

You didn’t know where you stood with your captain anymore, you knew he preferred to have you warm his bed rather than a nameless face, and his drunken rambles made you privy to the fact that there may be more to your relationship than just being his crew mate. But what the two of you had was fun, simple, and most importantly, not messy. Neither of you had any expectations of the other one, yet the underlying sense of loyalty you felt to Kidd was always in the back of your mind, never wanting to make him question your intentions.

As he approached he grinned at Zoro, his eyes flicking down to your chest, and then down to where your thigh pressed against his, lingering there for a moment before coming back up to meet Zoro’s gaze.

“You two look cozy,” he chuckles, and you can sense an undertone you don’t often hear from your captain in his words. “We’re heading back to the ship, see to it she makes it back safely.”

Kidd’s eyes remain locked on Zoro, the command weighing heavy in the air as he turns on his heel without offering you a glance. He disappears into the night and you feel Zoro’s hand shift on your waist, his eyes finally moving back to you once Kidd’s presence dissipated.

“Your captain doesn’t handle jealousy well, does he?”

You raised a brow at Zoro’s question, taking a sip of sake before offering a reply.

“To be fair, Kidd doesn’t handle any emotion well,” you start, giggling lightly at the presumption, “But I don’t think he was jealous. He’s probably not thrilled at the idea of me getting “cozy” with a Straw Hat.”

Zoro offers you a sideways look, grinning as he takes a sip of his own sake. You watch the bob of his throat as he gulps down the liquid, the flex of his neck muscles hypnotizing you.

“Is everyone in your crew emotionally dense, or is it just the two of you?”

You feign offense to his suggestion, but he continues before you can offer a rebuttal.

“He’s clearly territorial over you, why else would he only check on you before leaving for the night?”

The concept was not lost on you as you let his words sink in, feeling his gaze on you intently as you contemplated what to say.

Zoro notes your lack of response, swirling his glass a few times before continuing, “Maybe its just a male thing, but I’ve noticed it ever since the first time you spoke to me. You may not notice it because it’s normal for you, but I do - the constant checking up on you, the stares that linger a bit too long, the way he tenses if you smile at anyone that’s not him.”

You nod your head, still processing his comments, “Very observant, Mr. Swordsman.” 

He lets out a single chuckle before raising his glass for another drink.

“Does that worry you?”

Zoro’s arm hesitates as he brings his sake glass back to his lips, a devilish smirk curling on his lips before he finishes the drink. The hand around your waist tightens as he pulls you flush to his side, craning his neck down so his face is close enough for you to feel the tickle of his breath as he lets out a chuckle.

“Not at all.”

His lips are softer than you thought they’d be, though the kiss is as harsh as you were craving it to feel as he closes the distance between the two of you completely, his tongue wasting no time and immediately prodding at your lips. They part for him willingly as you taste the sake on his tongue, his scent flooding your senses due to his proximity. You rest your hand on his broad chest, feeling the muscles underneath your hand flex and relax as you settle into his embrace. The kiss quickly heats up and you find yourself biting down on his bottom lip, to which he pulls away and stares into your glossy eyes, his own hazy eyes dark with desire.

“And what about you, hm?” he croons, nuzzling his nose into your chin as he leans down to pepper kisses along your jaw. “You said yourself that you’re captain doesn’t handle his emotions well.” You feel your back arch and your body lean into him as he moves down to your neck, his kisses growing slopier the lower he goes.

“Are you willing to risk his wrath for one night of fun?”

You moan as the idea flashes through your mind, the two of you tangled in the sheets, his hard sculpted body pressed against you as you both explore each other. It was unspoken between the two of you, but deep down you both knew things would never go beyond this fleeting moment. Your loyalties to your captains were woven too deeply into your beings to ever consider anything more.

“Or, is that what you want?” Zoro smiles against the skin of your neck, biting and sucking down on the tender skin above your jugular before detaching his teeth and licking over the abused area. “You love pissing him off, don’t you?”

You feel heat rush straight to your core as you squeeze your legs together, the truth of his words causing a moan to escape your mouth as he continues his assault on your neck. He traces his hand up from the middle of your back to pull at the hair on the nape of your neck, exposing more of your neck to him and earning a deeper moan in response. 

You can feel his smile widen at your reaction, the lack of a rebuttal telling him all he needed to know as he pulls away from your neck reluctantly. 

“Shall we?”

His invitation doesn’t need any further explanation, his lust-filled eyes watching you as you stand and turn toward the pier. You can feel Zoro’s eyes on you the entire walk to the Victoria Punk, though the closer you get to the ship the faster your heart beats at the thought of what was to come.

You ascend the gangway and immediately scan the deck, relieved to only see a few crew members lingering in the darkness. You reach back and tug Zoro’s arm, trying to make your way to one of the communal rooms without being spotted. 

You duck into the room quickly, not noticing that Kidd had spotted you the second you stepped onto the deck. He noted your flushed face and how you kept your gaze low before turning back to the drink he was nursing, cursing lowly to himself for even caring what you did in your spare time.

“Leave it you freaks to have a designated sex room on board your ship,” he teases, cocking a grin as he spins around to look at you.

“Actually,” you say pressing the door shut with your heel, taking his jab as a compliment, “We have three.”

As you spun around and locked the door you felt Zoro’s looming presence surround you, turning and finding him hovering over you patiently, almost as if waiting for permission. You bite your bottom lip and lean against the door, and that seems to be the invitation he was waiting for because he swiftly closes the gap between the two of you, lifting you by the back of your legs and pressing you against the door.

Your hands tangle in his hair as he claims your mouth, this kiss more fervent than the previous one. His hands tug your legs around his waist before roaming elsewhere, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake as he traces the contours of your body.

A needy buck of his hips has you tugging at his clothes, craving more of his touch with each passing second. His large hands reach up and cup the mounds of your breasts, kneading them roughly as he grinds his considerable length into you again, this time deliberately teasing you.

“Zoro, please,” you moan into his mouth, the sound louder than you intended it to be.

He smiles cockily as he pulls away from you, feeling accomplished in having gotten you riled up already. 

“Shhhhh pretty girl,” he croons, “Gonna have your whole crew listening to you beg for my cock if you’re not careful.”

A damp heat pools in your core as he grinds himself into you again, testing if that was in fact your plan. The moan you let slip through your lips is slightly quieter this time, but not enough to disprove his suspicions. One more thrust of his hips has you ready to beg him again but instead, he pulls away from your body, still holding you against the door as he drops to his knees before you. 

You look down at him with heavy lids as he pulls at the waistband of your bottoms, pulling them and your panties down your legs and leaving you bare before him. The sinful way he licks his lips as your cheeks flush, and you barely have a second to process his actions as he lifts your legs over his shoulders. He supports the entire weight of your body as you’re pinned to the wall, your back arching at the first swipe of his tongue through your wet folds. 

He hums at the taste of you, burying his face in deeper as you brace yourself against the door with one hand, the other tangling in his green locks as you bite down on your lip to hold in your moans. You’re only successful in doing so until he prods a finger at your entrance, and then the sudden stretch of his finger has your mouth falling open, allowing a throaty moan to escape you and vibrate the walls of the room. He quickly adds a second finger and curls them along the spongy wall near your entrance, causing you to press your head back against the door as his tongue dances circles around your clit. Stars dance behind your eyelids as you fight to maintain your composure, the knot in your stomach pulling tighter as you yank at Zoro’s hair, earning a grunt of approval from him. 

“C’mon, pretty girl, let ‘em hear you,” he purrs before attaching his lips back to your clit, and you feel him wrap his free hand around your hip to hold you in place as you feel that cord inside you snap. You let out a string of curses as your orgasm ripples through your body, your moans morphing into whimpers as Zoro works you through it, his eyes watching you as you fall apart for him.

With a satisfied smirk, he pulls away from you once your hips have stilled, his chin dripping with your arousal as he brings his fingers to his lips, licking them clean.

“You taste as good as you look,” he smiles devilishly, and Gods you’re not sure if you’ve ever seen anything more sinful.

He gently pulls your legs from his shoulders, making sure you’re steady before pulling away from you, walking over towards the bed as he tugs at the remainder of his clothes. 

You hear a faint sound on the other side of the door, but the chiseled naked body in front of you pulls your attention right back as Zoro turns and sits on the edge of the bed, his eyes beckoning you forward as you push yourself away from the door and make your way over to him.

He’s fisting his cock as you strut over to him, pulling your top over your head and discarding it across the room as you reach him and situate yourself in between his thighs. He hisses as you place your hand over his, pulling his hand back as you run your fingers over the swollen and weeping tip of his cock. You spread the precum down his shaft as you begin to work him gently with your hands, keeping your face teasingly close to him as he watches you through his lashes. His heavy lids fall completely closed when you give in and finally wrap your lips around the head, swirling your tongue around it a few times before running it along the thick vein that runs along the underside, your eyes holding his gaze the entire time.

Just as you take him in your mouth fully you feel his body shift, but before you can pull back and inspect him or inquire further he grips the top of your head and presses you down further, a mumbled moan of surprise escaping both of you as he tickles the back of your throat. You screw your eyes shut, willing yourself to take more of him as you begin bobbing your head up and down on him, earning a hiss of approval. Whatever distracted him seemingly hadn’t been important enough to mention, so you continue your ministrations as you feel a needy pulse begin to pool in your core once more.

Zoro’s grunts begin to fill the room as he presses you further and further down his cock, pushing you to your limits until your gag reflex is triggered and you sputter and gag against his length. 

“Fuck, just like that, pretty girl,” he praises, and gag reflex be damned, you slacken your jaw and allow him to press even further into your throat, his hips raising off the bed slightly as he fucks into you. His hand on your head holds you in place as you feel your airway being restricted, trying desperately to breathe in through your nose for some sense of release. In a cruel act of dominance, Zoro notices your struggling and pinches your nose, holding himself deep in your throat as your ears start to ring from the lack of oxygen. Just as you think you’re going to pass out you dig your nails into his thighs and he lets you come up for air, sputtering and coughing as you pull away from him and try to ground yourself again.

You wipe the spit from your face and chin as you look up at him through bleary eyes, the same devilish grin on his face as his chest rises and falls, seemingly equally out of breath from the intensity of the moment.

“I see why your captain likes you so much,” he purrs, leaning down to grab the back of your head and pull you up into his lap, his erection pressing against your thigh as he kisses you sloppily. 

“Is he always this nosy when you bring men back to the ship?”

The question immediately makes your stomach drop, your head flinging to the door as you see a shadow underneath the door, your eyes wide as you start to piece together the signs.

Kidd wasn’t sure why he was still standing outside the door, unsure why for the life of him he couldn’t make his legs work and retreat to the confines of his cabin. His intention of walking over here was to stop you before you got too far into the act, to see if, for some Gods’ forsaken reason, he could convince you not to sleep with someone who wasn’t him tonight. 

But instead when he reached for the door handle, his Observation Haki triggered, and it was like he could see right inside the room - see how the swordsman had you pinned against the door, feasting on you like you were the first thing he’d tasted all day, and the way your body was practically singing for him. 

At first, he convinced himself it was jealousy - that the alcohol was going straight to his dick, and all he wanted was to charge in there and rip you away from him. But then, when he rested his forehead against the wall next to the door, he could sense the change in Zoro’s demeanor, as if he knew Kidd was standing outside the door. 

That made Kidd realize the bastard was goading him, and this was confirmed for Kidd the minute those last words left Zoro’s mouth. 

You were still staring at the door in shock as Zoro brought his head down to your chest, taking a nipple in between his lips as he hums in amusement.

“Tell him he’s welcome to come watch if that’s what he’s into,” he teases, pulling you around so you’re on the edge of the bed.

You whip your head around to look at him, realizing he’s serious as he pats your ass and nudges you off the bed, motioning you towards the door. Your legs work before your brain has any time to process, and sure enough, as you open the door, there he is. 

His eyes roam over your naked body hungrily, and you feel the heat pooling between your legs as he bites his lip, unable to say anything.

“Come in,” you squeak out, and his eyes widen at your request.

“Is that what you want?” his nostrils flare as he speaks, eyes flicking over to Zoro, who’s still sitting on the edge of the bed with a smug grin on his face.

You can only nod, a smirk curling up on your lips as you suddenly feel emboldened by the current power dynamic playing out before you. You walk over to Kidd, pulling at his coat as you push him back into the chair in the corner of the room.

 “Sit.” The command leaves your mouth and, for once, Kidd listens to you with no argument.

His cheeks flare into a blush as Zoro chuckles behind you, and you turn around and make your way back to him, hitching a leg over his and straddling him.

“I didn’t take you as a cuck, Captain Kidd,” Zoro’s taunts. Kidd grunts from the other side of the room, his lip curling up into a snarl even though he keeps his eyes trained on your every movement. 

“Fuck you,” he growls out, unable to refrain from snapping back.

You look over your shoulder at Kidd in warning, and you swear you see his eyes soften ever so slightly before you turn back to Zoro, who in return grabs you by the hips and turns you around. You’re now facing Kidd, each of your legs on the outside of Zoro’s as he pulls you down into his lap, tapping his cock on your pussy a few times as Kidd watches from the chair.

You notice the growing tent in Kidd’s pants, and you feel a shiver run down your spine as Zoro lifts your hips slightly to line himself at your entrance. He leans forward, nipping a bite on your shoulder before bringing his lips up to your ear,

“You gonna show me why your captain loves this pretty little pussy so much?”

You nearly moan just from the filthy words in your ear, and nod your head as you sink down onto his cock, your eyes staring holes into Kidd’s as your lips fall open once he’s fully seated inside you.

Zoro growls into your ear and offers you little time to adjust to him, his strong arms lifting you up and guiding you along his length as he brings his hand around to trace gentle circles on your still-sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Fuck,” he grunts as you begin to bounce in his lap, the squelching sound of him moving in and out of you accompanied by the slapping of your skin filling the room as you maintain Kidd’s gaze. Every second he looks at you has that knot tightening in your stomach, and you feel yourself growing impossibly wetter from the mixture of the lewd noises and Kidd’s gaze searing into you. Zoro’s cock presses deep inside you, your velvet walls clamping around him as he increases the pressure he’s applying to your clit, earning a strangled cry from you as you struggle to stay grounded.

Zoro leans back and gives you a few deep thrusts of his hips before he repositions you, pulling out of your wetness with a grunt as he walks you over to the corner of the room where Kidd is sitting. You feel a foot on the back of your knees and they immediately buckle, your body now kneeling before Kidd as he sits in the chair, his erection pressing painfully against its confinement.

Zoro drops to his knees behind you and grabs your hair, pressing your face into Kidd’s lap as he thrusts into you greedily, the sensation becoming too much for you as you try to hide your face in Kidd’s thigh. But Zoro notices and tugs your hair, craning your neck back so you’re forced to look up at Kidd, whose eyes are a fiery shade of amber you’ve never seen before.

He pistons in and out of you a few times before pulling you up so your back is flush to his chest, and he runs his tongue up the base of your neck to your ear, his raspy voice making your back arch into his thrust needily.

“Want you to suck your captain’s cock while I fuck you stupid, pretty girl,” he pants, dropping you back into Kidd’s lap as you frantically struggle with his belt.

Kidd’s lips curl slightly as he eyes Zoro skeptically, his eyes flicking back to you instantly as soon as you free him from his briefs.

You lick your lips before taking him in your mouth, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as Zoro’s speed decreases, matching the rhythm of your head bobbing up and down Kidd’s length as Kidd throws his head back. He lets out a throaty groan as you take most of him in your mouth, reaching down to fondle his balls like you know he loves, his hands making their way to your hair to goad you further down his cock.

A particularly sharp snap of Zoro’s hips has your mouth moaning around Kidd, and you feel his cock twitch from the sensation. He presses you to the base of his cock, your eyes watering as you sputter and gag from how far you’re deepthroating him. As he lets you up for air, Zoro tugs you up by the shoulder, pounding into you quicker as he seeks to force you over the edge again.

“Tell him how good I feel,” he growls, and your eyes flicker to Kidd’s immediately, his hand fisting his cock as he watches the lewd scene before him.

His eyes meet your intense gaze, and you avert your eyes to drop your chin as you struggle to find the words.

“H-his cock feels so good, Captain,” you whine, and Kidd thinks he might come just from the desperation in your voice.

Zoro chuckles, reaching over to grab your chin between his fingers and yanking your head back up. You’re convinced your body is going to combust as he sharpens his thrusts, your eyes meeting Kidd’s again.

“Tell him again.”

The sound that leaves your mouth has both men’s lips curling into smirks, and that knot in your stomach tightens again from the new angle of Zoro’s thrusts.

“His cock feels so, fucking, good, Captain!”

You’re sure your cries can be heard all throughout the ship, but you can’t find a morsel of your body that cares as your vision begins to blur.

Kidd shifts forward in his seat, finally unable to handle the lack of control, and grabs your chin into his own hand, snatching your cheeks from Zoro’s grip and bringing his face down to yours. 

“You wanna come, hmm?” Kidd purrs, and you feel the tears begin to stream down your cheeks as he watches you intently.

You nod and manage to choke out a feeble ‘yes please’ and he tightens his grip on your chin, his nose almost touching yours.

He grunts in response, his eyes flashing up to Zoro, who looks like he’s beginning to struggle to maintain his composure. 

“You come inside her, and I swear to god you won’t leave this ship alive,” he snarls, the possessiveness in his tone going straight to your cunt as you feel yourself clamp down around Zoro.

His response is also a grunt, his eyes screwing shut at the feeling of your walls starting to flutter around him.

Kidd smiles cockily, finally feeling a bit more in control as he looks back down to you, your tear-stained cheeks making his cock ache.

“Come on his cock, angel. Show him how pretty you sing for me.”

Kidd knows he’s end is near, so he lets you rest your head on his thigh as he pumps himself. You’re the first one to break, your pussy tightening like a vice around Zoro as the cord in your core snaps, waves of euphoria crashing over you as your moans fill and vibrate through the room. 

Zoro fucks into you for as long as he can manage, but before long his pace turns erratic and he reluctantly pulls out of your velvet walls to spill himself on your back. His grunts echo behind you as he pumps himself dry, Kidd’s own groans and grunts pulling your attention as he comes undone moments later. A few ropes of his cum land on your face as you struggle to catch your breath, the smell of musk and sex permeating the air as you slowly come back down from your high. When you finally open your eyes and lift your head, Kidd is watching you with a softness you weren’t used to seeing from him, and you wipe the remainder of his release from your face as you climb up his limp body, peppering wet kisses along his chest and neck until you meet his lips. 

The kiss feels familiar, but at the same time, there’s an unfamiliar desperation in the way Kidd’s mouth moves against yours that has your mind spinning a mile a minute. Regardless, you can’t help but feel at home in his arms, your sweat-slick bodies melding together like they were made to be that way.

You don’t notice Zoro standing and dressing himself, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he moves towards the door.

Kidd looks around you to eye the swordsman as he opens the door, “Hey! Don’t go running your mouth about what happened here tonight!”

You swat at Kidd’s chest as Zoro raises his hand, swearing himself to keep this secret between them.

“Just make sure I get an invite to the wedding,” he chuckles as he grabs his swords and walks out of the room, your body tensing at the insinuation.

“Not a chance in hell,” Kidd groans, flicking his wrist to force the door shut and locking it again, lifting you and carrying you to the bed with him.

You’re too busy focusing on the fact that Kidd didn’t refute the idea of marrying you to notice the look in his eyes as he hovers over you, sinking his hips into yours for what would surely be an impossibly long night for the both of you.

My hands are sweaty, that is all I have to say :3 lemme know what you thought, and if you liked it, I would love it if you liked and reblogged to spread the love <3 ✨come say hai :3✨ 100 FOLLOWERS EVENT

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Failed Every Insight Check and Fell all the Harder (Astarion x GN!Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Companion piece to: Failed a Dex Save and Fell for You

Summary: After a few months of traveling together, Astarion has begun to experience some new feelings around you. After one fateful day in Moonrise Towers, he finally figures out what those feelings are.

Tags: Astarion POV, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Awkward Fluff, tw: mentions of astarion's past and all that comes with it, tw: mentions of araj scene, Feelings Realization, Jealousy

A/N: here comes the awkward, fluffy Astarion figuring out his feelings Valentine’s special. He’s a hot mess, of course. (happy Early Valentine’s because I will be busy on Valentine’s) And thanks to everyone who voted for this one!

Word count: ~4.8k

Ever since your group entered the Shadowlands, something has been bothering Astarion. He hadn't noticed at first– or rather, had tried his best to ignore it. But, as time goes on, he’s finding it more and more difficult to brush aside.

It had started out small. An odd pain in the pit of his stomach.

What was that? he'd thought, holding a hand to his abdomen in concern. Perhaps he was just hungry, but it certainly didn’t feel like the ever-present hunger in his belly. No, that was a dull, continuous ache. This? This felt like something was weighing him down. Maybe I’m ill. I shouldn’t mention it to anyone, lest Lae’zel slit my throat in my sleep.

Besides, the pain didn’t happen often. He noticed it a distinct few times.

Once, when you first entered the Shadowlands. He’d just watched you bend down, hands plucking at something off the side of the cursed lands’ road. He thought momentarily that he ought to stop you, that none of you knew what could be lurking in its magical darkness. But that tinge of worry was promptly replaced by that same gods awful pit in his stomach. 

Because there you were, presenting your party’s cleric with your spoils. You were gifting Shadowheart a night orchid– had remembered that she mentioned loving them. You bore the woman’s wretched joke with a smile. Disgusting, Astarion thought. No wonder my stomach feels uncomfortable, what a pathetic little exchange.

Like everything that had bothered him in the last couple of months since finding himself free of Cazador, he decided to forget the feeling. Life is his to take full advantage now, why let something like that affect him?

Or so he thought until the next time the feeling made its return.

You had just arrived at the Last Light Inn as a group, found shelter through the Harpers’ well-established safe haven. Astarion was quite happy to be rid of the shadows, content to cozy up in an inn. He figured, if he played his cards right, you may even let him partake in your blood or ask for a bit of fun.

Then your party found Dammon. Equipped with Infernal Iron and one blazing hot barbarian, Dammon made magic happen in a matter of moments. 

Astarion was glad. As much as the group was a bit much at times, he understood Karlach’s struggle with her body all too well. She deserved this small victory in reclaiming her body. 

His feelings of genuine sympathy were short-lived though because a moment later you were wrapping your arms around the tiefling’s body. It was a test, of course, to see if Dammon’s fusing had worked. But there it was again, the feeling in his stomach. This time it felt twice as heavy, a lead ball in his guts. Maybe I should let someone know, he thought. This can’t be good.

But the sensation was soon forgotten as your group settled into the Last Light Inn. Old allies were in some miserable new states– requiring even more help, gods– and new acquaintances were made. It was all rather dull for Astarion.

The one time Astarion perked up was when you went head-to-head with the head Harper. He chuckled under his breath when you outsmarted the old crone, Jaheira. That’s right, Harper. Don’t mess with my protector.

Your first night at the inn was capped off with a bit of revelry: a game of Truth or Dare. 

Astarion could sense your reluctance to play. You’d been acting odd all day, stiff and awkward around him. He saw this as the perfect opportunity to tease you to the high celestial plane– in fact, he already knew what he wanted to ask you. “You are going to regret this so much," he'd said to you from across the table.

Then the game began, and the deep, uncomfortable feeling never left his core.

Each and every companion received your attention throughout the game, in one way or another. Even that damned smith, Dammon, was given a dare from you. And Astarion just sat there, not even earning a glance, his mood growing more and more sour.

When, at last, he was able to taunt you with his question, you were far too in your cups to give a proper response. He sat on your lap, placed there from one of Shadowheart’s dares, staring into your surprised, open eyes, wishing that he'd thought of an easier question for an inebriated version of you.

The group had shooed you both out of the game upon seeing your state, though Astarion didn't mind. He'd much rather leave the lot of them and tease you by himself.

Once you were alone, you answered his question. That he, Astarion, was your favorite and for all manner of incredulous, unbelievable reasons. He’d expected you to say him. He’d asked to hear your praise, confirm your attachment in the name of his plan to seduce you. All the same he was left uncomfortable, juggling the sudden and unabashed flattery. Being praised for his looks was one thing but for being… himself?

The feeling in his stomach grew. Suddenly his lungs felt it, his undead heart felt it. What in the sweet hells is the matter with me? he thought, as he helped lay your drunken, passed out form to bed later that night. He hadn’t felt a sensation like this before– he hated it. 

Then you reached out to him in your sleep, and he froze. Something about the touch quietened the pain under his ribs, and so he extended his fingers, gently touching your brow as you fell asleep. See? I’m fine, he assured himself. I truly am just ravenous.

__

He continued this way for several days in the Shadowcursed lands.

One moment, he was perfectly fine, hacking and slashing at a Shambling Mound with abandon. The next, he would look over at you, see you laughing at something Karlach said, and it felt like an iron ingot had made its way into his insides.

Damned tiefling woman. I’m far funnier than her, you know, he thinks, resheathing his knives with a little too much gusto. The sound of your laughter rang in his head for the rest of the evening, as if he were being driven to insanity by it.

The next day, you had fought a horde of Meazels. At first, Astarion thought the fight was delightful fun– the tiefling woman and the cleric kept getting teleported against their will and after his recent annoyance with both of them, he found it quite amusing. That is, until you found yourself garrotted, teleported as far away from him as possible.

He was on you in mere moments, ripping the creature off of you with his blades. It was almost as if he’d reacted instinctively and, as someone whose instincts typically led him away from danger, he found the sensation quite off-putting. Nevertheless, he'd freed you, asking, “Are you alright, darling?”

Astarion couldn’t remember what you’d even said because once he saw the marks the creatures left on you, the pit in his stomach dropped. Where there had been a heavy pressure before, there was now a sharp feeling. His eyes carefully trailed over your injuries, trying his best to focus on you and not the phantom pain building inside him.

You had been fine, nothing that a quick heal from Shadowheart couldn’t fix, but that feeling stayed in his stomach the rest of the day. It’s simply the Shadowlands, he'd thought. They not only play tricks on the mind, clearly they’re playing tricks on my body.

It was a few days later, as you helped the Harper’s deal with their lantern problem that the sensation shifted again.

Astarion watched, eyes glued to your form, as you dispatched the hideous drider, your twin blades piercing the creature in its most vulnerable spots. He’d seen you kill many monsters before, hundreds likely at this point. But something about the way your body moved in the Moonlantern’s glow, the way your face lit up as the creature’s body crumpled to the floor, caused the vampire to stop and watch.

This time, he’d felt the heavy sensation move up, somewhere just below his throat. He tried against all odds to gulp it away, but nothing seemed to work. We need to finish our business here and get out as soon as possible, he thought now, convinced it was the shadows warping his senses…

But as your travel continues, the feelings never go away. 

It’s a different pressure, it builds, it ebbs, it flows between his heart, his stomach, his torso– and each time he brushes it off. Stewing in these uncomfortable feelings, Astarion spends the week in a hazy mire, not unlike the shadows that surround you all.

Then your group finally infiltrates Moonrise.

__

Moonrise Towers, the seat of the Absolute and a once grand fortress. 

Now, Astarion can’t help but think it seems rather underutilized. Your group is walking along the empty parapets outside, which are woefully missing any sense of grandeur or ornamentation. “Darling,” he says, leaning into you slightly. “Don’t you think we ought to just kill everyone now and take the place for ourselves. Might be quite fun.”

You bark out a laugh, which he feels proud to have produced, and reply, “Maybe later. This is an infiltration mission only. Besides, once we defeat the Absolute, I’m sure there will be a vacancy.”

Astarion laughs back at you. Gods, he enjoys this. The way that he can say something that others would balk at and you will miraculously not only appreciate it, but also play along with it. Having fun with them is so easy, he thinks. And look, I’m still wearing all of my clothes! What a novel idea.

The thought is cut short when your group walks through an outside doorway into a room that can only be described as grotesque. Whoever works here clearly has some knowledge of arcana, if the ingredients and alchemical tools are anything to go by, but it smells utterly foul to Astarion.

It’s when you spot the drow woman hunched over a table in the corner that he realizes where the stench is coming from. Hells below, that woman reeks of something truly awful, he thinks, recoiling. He’d grown used to following behind you closely, but as you step forward to speak to the woman, he finds himself taking a step back instead.

The woman introduces herself as Araj Oblodra, a trader of blood– a rather poor trader, by the smell of it. She takes note of Astarion, who shuffles back instinctively, before you and her go about some kind of business with your blood. Astarion contemplates speaking up, shooing you away from her, but decides to stay back, as far away as he can remain without arousing suspicion. They can handle themselves.

Then, after the woman looks back toward him one too many times, he hears you snap, “And why are you so interested in my pale friend?” 

“Ah, yes. Perhaps there’s one more thing we could discuss,” she begins, her voice a dangerous drawl. “He’s a vampire, no? Or one of their spawn at least.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Astarion says, all-too-ready to fill his role. “We’re all friends under the Absolute. I won’t bite.”

“Oh, I’d prefer if you did,” she’s quick to respond. Her eagerness picks at Astarion’s nerves, and he raises an eyebrow at her. Araj doesn’t deign to give him another moment’s look though, as she turns back to you. “I assume he belongs to you?”

“Excuse me?” Your voice sounds offended– on his behalf, Astarion wonders? “He’s his own person.” Your words cause the feeling in Astarion’s stomach to flip, and, as much as he wants to come to his own defense, he finds himself quite content to hear you do it for him.

“I’m sure he really believes that. How utterly adorable,” she says with a snide chuckle. 

Adorable? he thinks, but he’s unable to interject before the woman continues to barrel forward.

The blood trader turns back to Astarion, face wrinkled with distaste as her tone changes to something a bit more confrontational, “Do you have a name, spawn?”

Her sudden shift in attitude, the proud tilt to her head, it all throws the vampire off balance as he goes to answer, “Astarion, b-but hold on!” Astarion holds up a hand to try to slow this woman’s tirade, all to no avail.

“Good. Now, Astarion, I’ve dreamt of being bitten by a vampire since I was a young girl,” Araj begins, laying out the scene for her request.

Too bad that the scene sounds quite ridiculous to Astarion. Surely he heard her incorrectly? “I’m sorry, you want to be bitten?”

The woman goes on a new insane diatribe– something about dancing with death– but Astarion can hardly be bothered. All he needs to know is that she’s offering some measly potion for being bitten and, gods, does he not want to bite this woman’s disgusting neck. Or wrist. Or really any part of her. “I will have to decline,” he says, with a gracious little bow. Your group is still infiltrating the towers, it wouldn’t do to tell Araj exactly how horrid she smells.

It’s entirely more grace than she deserved, that much is clear because she presses him again. Again, he refuses. “I gave you my answer.”

The drow scoffs, turning back to you once more, “Can’t you talk some sense into your obstinate charge?”

You, for your part, look confused. There’s a line of concern in your forehead as you look between the woman and Astarion, wondering what it is that you’re missing. “I’m surprised, Astarion. I thought you’d enjoy an opportunity like this.”

What?! he thinks, a sudden, sharp spike of anger shooting through him. He tempers his immediate rage and speaks to Araj with that same, false pleasantry she doesn’t deserve, “I’m sorry, but could you excuse us a moment?”

Astarion, not waiting for her response, pulls you aside, away from the drow’s nosy eyes and ears. Once you’re alone, he turns to you, his voice a hiss, “Are you actually asking me to do this? Trading me for some-some-some potion?”

“What’s the matter? Why would she be different from any other enemy?” you ask, leaning toward him.

Your voice is full of genuine worry, and some of his anger abates as he meets your eyes. Of course, they don’t know what they’re asking. How could they know? “Because there’s something wrong with her blood. I can smell it from here. Ugh, it’s rank.”

Now your brows furrow, and a sharp edge enters your eyes as you ask your next question, “What do you mean? What’s wrong with her blood?”

“I can’t say. It just smells… wrong. Unnatural.” His words sound pathetic to his own ears. 

Of course that’s not an excuse, Astarion laments. What am I even thinking? The potion is clearly useful. They are going to make me do this, and I may as well prepare myself. I’ve put up with worse after all.

So, he stands straight once more, ready to put on the performance of a lifetime. His tone takes on a resigned tone as he continues, “Drinking it wouldn’t kill me, but it would not be pleasant.”

You both hear a sigh from behind you. “I don’t have all day, True Soul,” Araj calls, impatiently.

Your eyes remain focused entirely on him, ignoring the woman’s irritated sigh, her entitled words. “Astarion,” you begin, and he takes a breath in preparation for your other foot to drop. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to do. And if she refuses to take no for an answer again, we’ll simply have to start our assault on the towers a bit early.”

The breath leaves him.

"Alright. Uh, thank you,” he says, feeling the tension drop from his shoulders. He’d been prepared to acquiesce, to do exactly what you’d asked of him. But this? This is something he hadn’t been prepared for. 

In a daze, Astarion makes his way back to Araj, putting on as polite of a facade as he’s still capable of making, “It's still a ‘no’, I’m afraid.”

“How very disappointing,” the blood trader says, shooting you both a disgusted look. She turns away in a huff, leaving your group alone to recover from the exchange. And leaving Astarion floundering in another new sensation.

Because once more, the feeling in the pit of his stomach has reared its ugly head– only this time it shoots through him like a bolt of lightning. He's not sure what it is, but it's stunned him into slipping off his carefully crafted mask. He turns to you once more, voice soft around its usual edges, "Thank you. I… appreciated that.”

"You have no need to thank me. It was always your choice, Astarion."

Huh.

The feeling sinks into him, settling deeper and deeper as you continue through Moonrise.

__

That night, you go to bed in your own bedroll, leaving Astarion to his meditations with a smile and a wave. It has been a long day for all of you, and it's clear from the way you take a glance back that you're worried about him.

Gods, he's worried about him.

After dealing with that vile drow woman, you'd all continued about the tower, ingratiating yourselves with even the most repugnant of creatures to appear faithful to the Absolute. But Astarion paid attention to almost none of it.

He'd stabbed when you told him it was time to stab, he'd joined your side when you called him to you, but his mind had been wholly preoccupied.

They didn't make me do it, he'd thought, as he unlocked some chest.

Well, isn't this exactly what I wanted? he'd thought, following you down some stairs.

Clearly they just fell for my charms, my masterful seduction, he'd thought, flanking a prison guard for you.

So why do I feel like this? he'd thought, staring at your back as you led the way before him.

Now, he lays here in his tent, staring at the fold of its ceiling in a rapt fascination he doesn't feel. The feeling in his stomach has stayed all day, tethering him to his thoughts with its continuous pressure.

When did I get to the point where I would follow them anywhere? Is their lack of self-preservation contagious? he asks himself, eyes narrowing in frustration. I shouldn't have gone into that horrendous tower in the first place. Then I wouldn't feel like this.

But he had.

And you'd not forced him to do so.

You'd not forced him to do anything.

They're a fool, an utter fool. I could have bitten that drow, as easy as breathing, he thinks, rolling his eyes at the thought. Close your eyes and push through, that's what I always say.

But did you want to? something in the back of his mind asks. 

Of course not, but when has what I wanted ever mattered– 

It may not have mattered under Cazador's grip, but it has always mattered to you. You're nothing like that evil man. You'd always been there for him, had managed to find trust in your heart for him, and had been genuinely kind to him.

The now-familiar feeling in his stomach seems to spread to the rest of his body, a warmth that doesn't quite feel warm. It bleeds all the way to his face and his lips curl up into an involuntary smile at the thought of you.

You– you, who had only ever been meant to play a bit role in the tragedy that is Astarion’s life. You, who had transcended your part, leaving Astarion contemplating every aspect of you in the stark solitude of his tent. 

Your beauty when you're covered in blood after a battle, the mischievous glint in your eye when you're teaching a child a sleight of hand trick– even when anger pulls your brows together and you're yelling at him for saying something particularly naughty. Each and every one makes his smile grow wider.

You, his chosen protector, are so much more than just that.

They are incredible. The thought comes to him unprompted, truly as easy as breathing.

His eyes widen in alarm, staring blankly at the tent above him.

The feeling in the pit of his stomach wasn’t an illness. Nor was it hunger. No. It was guilt. It was jealousy. It was…

Oh fuck, Astarion curses to himself. Am I in love?

Now that he has a word to the sensation, that the feeling is in his grasp, he knows he's right. He doesn't have a lot of experience with love, if any– he'd never had the luxury under Cazador's cruel gaze and he can't recall much from before that– but he knows he's right.

And hells does he wish he could crush the feeling in his hands right here and now.

Gods, you complete and utter imbecile, he thinks, hitting his head against the floor. You have things to do, goals to accomplish. They were only supposed to be a means to those goals, not a – a–

Astarion’s mind blanks as he thinks of you again, your charm, your wit, your damnable caring.

Not a companion. Not a friend. Not a lover. When did those late night trysts turn from an obligation, a part of his simple, perfect plan, into something more?

Even now, as he thinks of those nights, he brings a hand to his lips, recalling a night where you had simply stayed in his bedroll. You had kept all of your clothes on, as had he, and simply held each other as you fell asleep. Their kiss that night was delectable, he recalls, tracing the line of his lips, as if he could still feel the ghost of yours on them.

Fuck, he thinks again, dropping his hand in frustration. How could I have been so blind? How did I not nip this in the bud before it got to this disgusting pining?

But he hasn’t nipped it in the bud. The feeling has grown, unfettered, quick as a druidic plant growth, all unbeknownst to him. It has been nurtured by your attention. It has been watered by your kindness. It has become unruly in the safety of your arms.

Now what? he thinks to himself bitterly, wiping a hand across his face with a sigh. What use are these feelings when everything they were built upon is a lie? You are, after all, still playing the role he set out for you.

He considers overlooking the feelings, just as he has inadvertently done in his ignorance. It wouldn’t be of any use to tell you, of course. You could hardly feel the same way about him as he does you, and he’d rather not add another nuisance in the fight against the Absolute.

Besides, if he told you, he would have to fess up, explain his entire plan to you. What would even be left of the two of you after that?

But, he thinks to himself. Let’s say I did tell them. What could they possibly say…

“I was pretending all along too.” – gods, that would break him. That much is all too apparent from the way his undead heart aches at the thought, with a pain he couldn’t possibly feel.

“I like you, but not like that.” – maybe this was worse. Actually, it was definitely worse. He may never recover. His ego would certainly never recover.

“I have someone else that I love.” – honestly, reasonable. What did he have to offer you after all? A bloodthirsty master and the occasional snarky comment? He wouldn’t be surprised to find you in Karlach’s tent at this very moment…

“I hate you.” – he might be able to take this the best. You should hate him. He’d done nothing but lie and manipulate his way into your bedroll. Hate, well, that he understood.

“I love you, but…” – every single 'but' cut like a different, jagged blade. But we’re in danger every day? An excuse, surely. But you come with too much baggage? True, but not something he would be able to resolve. But I don’t want to be with a monster? Again, reasonable, but out of his control.

Astarion runs through scenario after scenario, each one playing with his own emotions in a new and horrendous way. In the end, he all but slaps himself out of it.

No, I cannot tell them. I absolutely must take this to my second grave, he determines, shaking the thoughts away with a few hard blinks.

But the feeling in his chest is more persistent than ever. As if giving it a name and meaning has given it a new, annoying life. He laments to himself aloud, "I may never feel like myself again.”

If this is what love does to a person, he wants no part of it.

__

The vampire didn't have a restful night's reverie, that much is apparent. His mood is foul, his body tense, and his eyes are trying their damnedest to avoid yours. 

No way, he thinks as you all set off for the day. I spun myself into a frenzy last night. Clearly. I feel absolutely nothing–

Then you turn back to him, concern lining your eyes as you address him. What had you just said? He had found himself somehow lost in your eyes, your lips, the turn of your nose… 

Shit, he thinks to himself. No, get back in control. You have only just reclaimed yourself, you can't lose yourself to something as cruel as love.

But, try as he might, his eyes can’t avoid you. 

All morning, he continues to sneak glances your way. Despite his roguish nature, he finds hiding his stares to be impossible. After all, you are the group’s leader. You are at the front, you are at his side, gods, you are everywhere. This feels like some kind of divine punishment…

You catch him looking, of course. And each time, he curses himself, gods, you idiot. You may as well broadcast your feelings to the world. And hells, how long have you felt this way?

Astarion tries futilely to act normal. This is just another day with the group in the Shadowlands. He’s not thinking about holding your hand in his. He’s not thinking about the way you look when you sleep. And, above all else, he is not thinking of your lips or the way that they move when you say his name.

Despite his inner turmoil, the world moves on. You lead the group through the Mason’s Guild, and you all manage to clear the place out easily enough.

The vampire thinks he’s finally reaching some sort of peace. Yes, this routine work he can do. No problem at all.

Then, you say something kind to Karlach, that infernally charming woman, who continues to support you at your side. Who, for all intents and purposes, should be the person who warms your bedroll at night, now that you can touch her. Not him, the man who can only make your bedroll colder. Who, even now, is avoiding your every glance.

Oh hells, he thinks, face dropping. The realization that he’s right is too much for him to bear.

Astarion stalks off, annoyed at himself and his thoughts, needing a moment to recollect himself. I can do this, he thinks. I can do this. I can–

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath once he knows he’s alone. “You’re supposed to get over this, you stupid fool. Shit. Gods dammit.”

He hears your familiar footfalls approaching and freezes, his shoulders tense with anticipation.

You find him in a pool of shadows away from the others, and he can’t help but feel like a beast that’s been cornered. He’s certain his face reflects that, reflects every bit of emotion he’s feeling as plain as could be, but your patience with him has apparently worn thin for the day. Your voice is less kind than usual when you say, “Do you need to talk?”

Seeing the anger in your face, the way that your hands are placed on your hips in annoyance, he knows he can’t keep his feelings to himself. He’ll only continue to push you away, into the strong, red arms of another.

No, he thinks, in a panic. I should– I need to–

He needs to do something about his feelings, unwanted or not. Really, he needs to tell you, regardless of what your response may be. If not, he may regret it for the rest of his undying life.

Now that he is in control of his own choices, he supposes that means all of them, for better or worse. That means even the most difficult ones. This is one of those difficult ones, isn’t it?

So Astarion swallows his pride, his anxieties, his insecurities, and settles his fate.

“Later,” he says, barely getting the words out. He blinks, and tries again, pleading with you with his eyes, “Please, just come by my tent later.”

Later, I will tell them. Everything.

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

We are back in the flood, with three (!) new Japanese QLs starting this week (we will be patiently waiting for @isaksbestpillow’s excellent subs on the new GL, so I’ll cover that next week), on top of our three ongoing shows. Three of these are streaming weekly on Gaga, with two provided via fansub (feel free to ask if you don’t know where to find them).

Love in the Air Koi

The much anticipated Japanese remake of Love in the Air is here, and it's off to a strong start! I'm a fan of the Thai original despite its flaws, and I am hopeful that a remake can elevate the core of the story while shedding some of the sillier plot aspects and filler. This first episode did exactly that, executing all the important beats of the original first episode in half the time, and establishing our core characters and their dynamics quite well. The casting is good all around, but Nagumo Shoma is perfect as Arashi, and he and Rei have good chemistry. I will look forward to this one every week.

Our Youth

Another strong start right out of the gate! This drama seems to be a second chance romance of sorts. We begin with Minase in present time (narrating about how he and Hirukawa can only communicate via letters, which I suspect may be incarceration-related?) before traveling back six years to high school to see their relationship unfold. Minase is a wealthy but lonely top student who teachers adore, Hirukawa is a poor and abused kid who teachers have already written off as a lost cause, and they are inevitably drawn to each other when Minase witnesses some of the horrible things Hirukawa is dealing with and keeps his mouth shut about it. This drama feels confident about the story it's telling and it's so beautifully shot. Hirukawa already has my heart. I especially like that his characterization feels nuanced and specific rather than archetypal; he is troubled but he's not a bully, and rather than rejecting care, he seeks it out from someone he perceives as trustworthy. I am along for this ride and excited to see where Minase's perspective takes us.

Smells Like Green Spirit

Ow, my heart. This week town gossip spread like wildfire about Mishima and Kirino's supposed romance, and both had a heart to heart with their mothers about it, with wildly different results. While Mishima's wonderful mother affirmed that she knows who he is and wants him to be happy and live his truth, Kirino was shamed and guilted by his homophobic wreck of a mother. We already know how much her grief weighs on him, and her inability to accept him will surely make things hard for him going forward. It was lovely to see he and Mishima escape together to their Shangri-La, however briefly, but I also felt sad that he kept his painful experience to himself rather than confiding in his friend. I just want them both to be okay. Yumeno also had a coming out of sorts, and while I was happy to see another supportive mother, I thought it overcrowded the episode to shove that in, too, especially with lots of time also spent on the villagers. I would have liked the focus to stay more tightly on our besties.

Love is Like a Poison

Welcome to the battle couple era!! Shiba and Haruto are settling into couple life (adorably), and Shiba is defiantly claiming Haruto as his partner for anyone who cares to know. And this week we get what we've been waiting for, as the story sets up the final boss, who appears to be an enemy of both Shiba and Haruto (the former professionally, the latter personally). Haruto is still not telling his Ryo-kun what he's driving after, but we got some helpful hints at the end of this episode about what is ultimately motivating his scamming. I am so excited to see them team up again to take this guy down.

Chaser Game W

I’ll keep this brief. This sequel season had little purpose, with a plot that changed randomly from week to week. They capped it off with a finale that made an insulting mockery of the homophobia real same sex couples in Japan face. This show sticks out like a sore thumb on this list of otherwise excellent Japanese queer media, and I’m very glad it’s over.

[chains-of-destiny]

Few families can say that they've been blessed by the gods, and even fewer can count ancestors as illustrious and celebrated as Niemon, your great-grandfather. He was the very man who led the rebellion against a tyrannical magocracy and laid the founding stones for a free and fair republic. Your family was destined for greatness and respect, but your grandfather ruined it all… You are the heir to House Serin, and the burden of your family's legacy weighs heavily on you. However, your destiny is much greater than that of your forefathers, maybe even the great Niemon's. So, let the chronicles begin! But remember, the chains of destiny are strong and will not be easily broken. Do you have the power to defy fate?

This is the first book of Chains of Destiny, a planned trilogy where you step into the shoes of the heir to House Serin. Set in the fictional continent of Runsas, your choices will not only shape your life but also impact the lives of those around you and the future of the republic. Uncover the secrets behind your grandfather's betrayal, break free from the chains that bind you, and finally take control of your destiny.

The game is more character/story-focused and places less emphasis on stats.

[Link to the demo]

Total word count: ~311k words (as of 2024/10/06)

ROs | Forum Page  | Update Log

The intention is not to make the story as dark as possible but to establish a living, breathing world that exists within the setting it found itself in. So, you will not be swimming in a sea of blood and body parts, it is not the point of the story. Still, I feel obliged to warn any potential players before playing this game, as certain scenes contain things that may not be for everyone.

Reader Discretion Advised: This content may be disturbing or triggering for some players. Proceed with caution and consider your own emotional well-being before continuing.

[Content warning] - this game currently contains (or will contain in the future):

Strong language

Graphic scenes of violence

Graphic depictions of injuries, wounds, and corpses

Scenes of physical and emotional abuse

Blood and gore

Dark and disturbing themes

Body horror - Transformation (skippable)

Alcohol and drug use

Mentions and references to animal death

Mutilation

Physical and psychological Trauma

War crimes

Manipulation and gaslighting

Themes of authoritarianism and oppression/discrimination of certain groups of people

Themes of war and conflict

- The list may or may not expand as the development progresses.

Also, this story was created purely out of my passion for writing. It does not intend to preach or lecture anyone about any particular topic or belief.

If you feel that any part of this game is preaching or trying to convey a specific message, it is unintentional, and I sincerely apologize. The primary goal is to provide an enjoyable and fun experience for everyone.

PS: I should've already made a post like this in the beginning, but somehow I just forgot to.😄

[kitasgloves]

In My Room

tracklist

— ♬ "I hate that you leave when the lights come on. And if I had it my way, the fuckin' sun would be gone"

— ♬ Nikolai Gogol x ghost! Reader, SFW, female reader, graphic depictions of animal death, violence, and murder, the reader is dead (but this doesn't count as necrophilia), and major character death, 3.7k words, no beta

— ♬ NOTE: I DO NOT CONDONE NOR ROMANTISIZE WHAT IS DEPICTED IN THIS STORY. EVERYTHING IS A WORK OF FICTION. READER'S DESCRETION IS ADVISED.

One may get used to having loneliness as one's companion. The comfort and familiarity of isolation could drive the individual away from society and cause difficulty searching for human connections. It is the natural instinct of humans to linger amongst its kind and form a connection. A human has the freedom to create and destroy bonds with each other.

However, Nikolai Gogol was a different case. For a long time, he believed he was trapped in his own mind, a slave to his emotions. He felt like his mind was stuck in a cage. He wondered if anyone shared that same experience. It was challenging to find someone to relate to. Nikolai has already accepted that he is different, but he wants to think that he isn't the only one. There must be a unique soul out there who shares the same sentiment as he.

Nikolai never bothered fitting in society knowing that it was no use, so he focuses on finding a way to free himself from his own emotions. Nikolai strives to find true liberty. There are instances where he has met a few people who came close to understanding his philosophy, the experience was refreshing but temporary. Even if someone did truly understand him and his ideas, it wouldn't be enough for them to stay.

For a short period, he was content with that. He learned to find contentment in his loneliness. Nikolai has accepted that he shall be alone. He has grown to be envious of people who are oblivious and ignorant to the choking feeling of emotions, he wanted to know what it feels like to be free from the cage of his mind. Nikolai wore his grin as a mask to conceal his increasing desolation. To keep everything he felt within him as a secret was torturous. 

A life of crime seems the most fitting for Nikolai. He doesn't find the appeal of being an outstanding and decent citizen who participates in society. It's so dull! Nikolai finds fragments of freedom through the acts of crime. He believes that he is proving to everyone he will never be a slave to the standards of society. Nikolai thinks that someday he will be as free as a bird, flying carelessly in the sky. 

But the conquest for liberty has taken a mental toll on him. Nikolai feels unable to function with how much the loneliness is weighing him down. Loneliness is misery, some have said. But Nikolai thought through isolation he would seek the freedom he had thirsted for. But was he wrong all along? Was everything senseless? And will he be forever trapped in this cage?

Tap, tap, tap

That sound was unique. It was unexpected. Nikolai by chance glanced to his bedroom window at night to see a dark female silhouette with glowing orbs. No fear, shock, or surprise rose within him that night. Nikolai stared at the finger tapping on his window. Curiosity has led him to creep towards the window for a proper look.

There you were: a ghastly woman with dry and pale skin, dressed bloodily in black, and smiling crookedly at him from the other side of the glass. For the first time in a long while, Nikolai's heart stirred. You were so beautiful that he couldn't help but open his window to invite you in.

Nikolai's breath hitched and watched with anticipation as you crawled towards him. He realized how rotten your skin looked and how your joints were out of proportion. Your bones peeked through your rotten skin and yet Nikolai finds himself enamored. You stiffly faced him as your bones cracked with the tilt of your head. He stares at you with glistening eyes as he takes in your dreadful features.

"Hello there"

He greets you breathlessly, and you send him a puzzled look. You have cornered Nikolai to his bed as you crept on above him. Nikolai doesn't get annoyed by your lack of speech but instead reaches carefully toward your cold cheek. His heart leaped when you leaned into his touch.

"You're pretty for a dead thing"

He remarks with a laugh. You gaze at him unblinkingly with dried eyeballs that nearly rolled out of their sockets.

"You...you think I'm pretty?"

You spoke with a quiet and raspy tone. Nikolai nods and this causes you to smile at him for the first time. He could never forget that moment. To have witnessed your demonic smile has aroused an emotion within him that he thought never existed. That evening, in his room, you stayed and talked until the sun rose. You left before any light could grace the sky. He couldn't understand where you came from, but Nikolai finds himself torn to see you leave. But you shook your head with a bloody grin and his face lights up for he knows you will return again tonight.

Tap, tap, tap

"Are you going to let me in? Hello? Hello?"

You called for Nikolai on the other side of the window the following night. He excitedly leaped from his bed and hurriedly went to unlock his window. You came crawling into his arms as he carried you to his bed. You looked so fucking gorgeous sprawled on the mattress that it evokes a strong emotion in him.

2:45 and the bell went off, thank God. Many people he's odd. But he talks with no one, and he walks alone. And he avoids sunlight with a chalky tone. Nikolai gets home and he doesn't say hi, it ain't nobody there. He doesn't care, he walks in and go right up the stairs, to his room, get in bed, and just for dark. Because that's when the real show starts.

Tap, tap on the glass go the piece of ass. So young and pretty, it's too bad you passed. But you come to his room and you and him would talk at night. You're demonic and bloody but you hold him tight. In his bedroom, with you, he's never alone. And he'd kiss your cold lips until the morning comes. Then you're gone, he can still hear your voice loom. But you only exist in the dark of his room.

Nikolai can't ignore you, when you'd tap on his window and gaze at him with your glowing dead eyes, begging to be let in in his room. He'd do anything for you. The only thing that soothes his aching loneliness is the sound of your tapping. Nikolai does adore you. He finds it impossible not to. The way you crookedly smile at him, the way your cold fingers caressed his cheek, and the way your chilling kisses set his heart ablaze. Nikolai believed he had encountered the gates of heaven in his room, with you and him.

Nikolai can't ignore you, now that you've carved your place in his life by crawling into his room. He'd do anything for you. He'd give anything for you to look at him with adoration through your dry eyes, to hold him in your bony and cold arms. Nikolai does adore you. He is unfazed by your disturbing beauty, the charm you exhibit in a macabre fashion, and how death could never defeat your grace. This is how Nikolai spent the rest of his days, in his room, with you and him.

Nikolai tries to smile a lot but he's always fronting. But he does love a ghost and at least that's something. You don't talk much and when you do, it gets cold. Usually, you and he just lay there, where you two hold each other. Nikolai and you were lovers, you and he don't need others. One of the stray cats jumped up on the covers, and it scared you because you don't like pets. So, Nikolai twisted its fucking head off its neck.

"Look baby, it's bloody, it's gone, it's doomed"

Nikolai tries to comfort you, but you've leaped off of the bedsheets in fright. He felt his chest grow tight with ache at the sight of your quivering figure retreating towards the window. He rushes after you.

"Please! Come back to the room"

He pleads and merely panics when you begin to slowly slide open the window. Nikolai nearly sinks down to his knees, unable to bear to see you leave.

"I'll do anything for thee, don't ignore me"

This is more than a sick love story, Nikolai is convinced. His head spins as he thinks of ways to make you stay in his room. He feels as though he will have a fit if you decide to leave him. Nikolai will reach unreachable lengths for you. He will do the unthinkable. He will go far just to have you near. Without you, he'd bring a shotgun to a school. And he will if you want to, for any reason.

You were motionless by the windowsill facing away from him, it seemed as though you were contemplating. Nikolai rushes to take your hand, he places his cheek against your freezing palm as he gazes longingly at you. Your head turns stiffly to face him, relief floods him when he can't find any trace of fright from earlier. Unfortunately, he spots the sun rising on the horizon. Nikolai hides his irritation with a grit of his teeth. But you spared him an apologetic look with your unblinking eyes.

"I hate that you leave when the lights come on. And if I had it my way, the fuckin' sun would be gone"

Nikolai says as he feels you freeze after. His heart raced at your blank reaction. He couldn't tell what you were thinking. Were you disturbed? Disgusted? However, you didn't pull your hand away from his cheek as you gave him a twisted smile that eased his fears. As you vanished within the start of dawn, he felt gladness flood his heart as you waited for your return later.

Nikolai can't ignore you, and it wasn't just the tapping on his window. He couldn't ignore the thoughts of you occupying his head no matter what he did. He would do anything for you. Just simply ask him and he shall obey. Nikolai does adore you. His heart beats for you for he has managed to find someone for himself that wasn't part of society. He truly thought how fitting it was to adore a dead woman like you, free from life's grasp of expectations. In his room, with you and him, Nikolai has discovered something better than freedom.

Nikolai can't ignore you; it would be a sin to do so. He would do anything for you, there is nothing he wouldn't do for you. Nikolai does adore you. He adored you the way a devotee worships their god. He loved you as much as tragedy loved death. In his room, with you and him, Nikolai has begun to spiral out of control.

Sometimes when he kisses you, he starts shaking. You slip him the tongue and it tastes like bacon. Uh-oh, something is wrong, you were upset. Nikolai was alarmed since you rarely behaved this way. He immediately starts to soothe you and ask what is wrong. You told him you were spotted by the neighbor's kid. You can't come back now because they know your and his secret. Unless he can make them keep it. If he does, you might come back to life.

Nikolai nearly bursts into a frenzy at your admission. All his thoughts come to a screeching halt as he looks at you with a dangerous glint in his eye. He will be forever miserable if you were to leave permanently because that stupid neighbor's kid has found your secret with him. Nikolai was undeniably thrilled that he was unable to contain it when he heard the possibility of you coming back to life. As much as he adored you in death, to be the one to grant life back to you means you will be staying with him for eternity. With this prospect in mind, Nikolai has instantaneously orchestrated a plan.

Nikolai finds himself in the backyard of his neighbors with a shotgun and a knife. Cut the screen, he went in and found the kid. He blew a bowl of spaghetti on the side of his head. Then the daddy was next, running down the hall, he shredded his throat, and he was quick to fall. Nikolai tossed the Mossberg and grabbed the knife and started stabbing the shit out of his wife. He went home a bloody mess with a job well done. Nikolai washed up and waited for his baby to come.

Nikolai can't ignore you. All he could think about was you. He would do anything for you, what he had done to his neighbors was a testament to it. Nikolai adores you, in death and in life, he shall love you eternally. In his room, with you and him, Nikolai loses touch with his remaining sanity.

Nikolai can't ignore you, no matter what he did, you infested his head like a persistent parasite. He would do anything for you, he would do anything to keep his secret with you, so you'll return back to life and remain with him. Nikolai does adore you, his beloved in death, his missing half, his dearest lover. In his room, with you and him, Nikolai has lost touch with reality.

He waited two or three days, four days. Waiting for the tap, tap like always. He waited and hated this. He created a bloody mess. Nikolai waited two or three months, four months. Waiting for the tap, tap just for once. He waited and hated this. He created a bloody mess.

Nikolai feels his stomach drop, he barely got a sign from you that it's stressing him out. He waited two or three days, four days. Waiting for the tap, tap like always.

"Where is she?"

He wondered. Nikolai can feel dread engulf him, is his cruelest fear coming true? No, it can't be. But you haven't shown yourself yet to comfort him. He waited and hated this.

"Why isn't she coming back?"

Nikolai pulled on the roots of his hair, he couldn't make sense of your disappearance. Hadn't he done what he was supposed to? He created a bloody mess. Nikolai waited two or three months, four months.

"I fucking killed those people!"

He yelled within his room. He curled his hands into fists as rage consumed him. He did what you asked but why aren't you returning? His head felt heavy with unanswered questions, but he was unwavering. Waiting for the tap, tap just for once.

"Where the fuck is she?!"

Nikolai gritted his teeth. He could no longer tell how many months have gone by since you stopped tapping on his window. He lost his ability to function properly as he remained in his room, holding on to the remnants of hope of your return. He waited and hated this. He created a bloody mess.

"Why isn't she coming back?"

He had sunk to his knees by the windowsill with anguish evident in his features. Nikolai didn't count the days that went by without food or rest. His eyes were glued to the window with each passing moment with his health and sanity further crumbling. He waited two or three days, four days. Waiting for the tap, tap like always.

"I can't believe I did it!"

Nikolai laughed hysterically to himself. He ticked and twitched by the windowsill, clinging to those moments he shared with you. He was beginning to question if everything he experienced was real at all. Were you not real or have you left him for good? He couldn't locate the answer. He waited and hated this. He created a bloody mess.

"I killed them!"

He screamed in complete hysterics. His hair had grown all over his face as dust and grime settled on his clothes, and yet he stayed by the windowsill. Nikolai has found himself a slave again to his emotions, a bird stuck in his cage. His laughter echoed in his room. He waited two or three days, four days. Waiting for the tap, tap like always.

"Where is she?!"

Nikolai roared with rage. However, tears have finally trailed down his face. He collapses on his side as he still remains by the windowsill. Everything felt surreal, his suffering felt surreal. His torment in the hands of his emotions has brought him to the brink of insanity. But his devoted mind kept thinking about you. He waited and hated this. He created a bloody mess.

Tragedy has befallen Nikolai Gogol as he exhaled his last breath by the windowsill. He has perished from hunger and malnourishment and suffered from his own madness. In his room, his last thought was you and him.

©kitasgloves (do not steal or copy)

[snifferish]

When people talk about creating safe spaces online, I think the general focus is on excluding people who are outright nasty or prejudice. While I think this is important and a good step, it can also create some illusion that the people within the space are safe from doing wrong. 

There are so many examples of this for sure, but to give an example that I have experienced is the concept of “Safe spaces for women” Yeah obviously it tends to be a space free of men, but that doesn’t make the women who are in the space completely “safe” either. If we talk about the four I’s of oppression, Ideological, Institutional, Interpersonal, and Internalized, the step of excluding the offending group only addresses a few. Going back to my example, there are plenty of women I’ve met who carry internalized ideas of misogyny who can make other women feel unsafe. I mean, most of, if not all of the misogyny I’ve experienced in the MC community has come from other fem people who use the excuse that they like some women or are a women as a defense.

It’s also important to mention intersectionality. Yeah it’s a space of women, and that might make it seem free of misogyny, but what if those women carry prejudice towards someone's race, or whether or not they are trans?

And again, because it’s been deemed a “safe space” a lot the internal or intersectional offenders see themselves as immune because of their position or other identity. I think if one truly wants to cultivate a safe space online, while excluding the people who are outright nasty and prejudice is a good step, it’s important to encourage the people within the community to look inside themselves and deconstruct their prejudices whether its against other people or yourself (also going back to those four I’s, it’s crucial to understand no one if free from that). It’s important to create a space where criticism is accepted, and not viewed as an attack, and in turn the criticism given is intended to call out and instigate growth. This post itself isn’t an attack on anyone in particular, in fact it’s partially a guideline for myself, as I want to cultivate a safe space in my online community while acknowledging that just because I do that, I’m not free of critique. I also want to add that this happens in a myriad of forms across multiple communities, and I use the example of misogyny because that’s what I’ve experienced, but if others want to weigh in their experiences as well, I think that’s important.  Sorry for the random tumblr post out of the blue, I enjoy a long character count ahaha. I’m not even sure how to tag this and it might just go to the void, but these are my thoughts.