#berserk fluff

[gamblersdoll]

sitting in guts’ lap and looking up at him all pretty.

“whatcha’ need, beautiful?” he asks, chest somewhat airing up and he has a small smile.

“kissie.”

“.. a what?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“kissie.”

“you want a kiss, beautiful?” he asks, wrapping his bionic arm around your waist tight. you nod, smile coming onto yours. “then my beautiful woman gets a kiss, cmere.” he says, kissing your lips with soft and plump lips.

“thank you.” you say, excitedly moving in his lap. he chuckles, wrapping his other arm around you and kissing you repeatedly.

“my beautiful woman.”

[loneworldgazer]

@pinkkunt-imagines @dwelleroftheobsidiantower

req :I saw Berserk in your tags, so assuming I'm assuming you write for it. I'd like to request either a headcanon or a scenario about Post Eclipse Guts and Griffith having become parents from a relationship pre-eclipse. Like their reactions, interactions with the child, etc. Thank you, bookie. 💖

pairing: Guts x Reader, Griffith x Reader

a/n: ive done your request but there is so many things i am not satisfied by. there's probably a lot of repetitive words and i deeply apologize, enjoy it nonetheless!

tags: hints of violence and manipulation in griffith's, angst to comfort, fluff,

─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────

Guts wasn't one to soften his heart easily, he pushes away people and let people assume of him by his strength and how much of an arrogant man he is. He didn't bat an eye to people who try to cross him again and goes off to his own path to protect others from him.

He felt that he'd let his weakness slip when he had opened his heart to another person.

There was just something about the way you held the baby in your arms. You wonder what type of hell he'd been through to look at you that way. It was a haunting look not one of no emotion but weakness from the facade he had pulled away from.

"Guts?"

Your voice didn't reach him as he runs out the door. Understanding him will always be never ending, there will be more questions you utter than answers he can think of.

Erica holds your baby, her childlike innocence calling Guts such a bad guy for leaving you just like that and you could nothing but chuckle. The chuckle made your throat hurt from the tears that had started pouring down your ears, darting from the little girl's sight to wipe them away quickly.

Your hands extend to the teapot and look closely at the tea leaves that had dwindled down since the trees in these parts were dying to the fast winter that was approaching. It was quite silly worrying about Guts who was running out in this cold, he was a machine. A weapon that wont stop to anything in its path yet the nights of worrying about the sores he had on his feet, the splinters he had from trees he gathered back to home will always stick close to you.

"I have thick skin, don't worry too much."

That soft smirk he had when he wipes tears away from your eyes as the blood just won't stop flowing. Every scar that was stitched was remembered, it came from many brave battles that may have been a breeze for him but an impending ache to you.

Should you rush out the door after him, the wailing of your baby could be heard miles away. A fierce cry coming out from such a small body. All the pain of child birth would come rushing back into you, legs trembling when the throb shoots up your nerves. Oh and Erica who was so observant even if she held the tiny bundle of joy in one arm while stopping you with the other with a pout on her face.

"You don't need to go out for the tea leaves, Rickert keeps them in the second drawer near the dried fish."

You can't help but smile, such a sweet girl. Stepping away from the door, you trust Guts to return. He always does be it battles or training, clenching the necklace you wore, you've convinced yourself.

He will come back.

-------

The storm had particularly been rough tonight though it didn't wake you up but the anxiety had consumed you on why the baby had been silent. The bile in your throat rises up, whipping your head to the baby's cradle. praying that there was nothing wrong when you saw him.

Guts looked down at his baby, the part of his armour on his chest removed where he laid his child against. His hair was wet but he made sure to tilt back so the droplets don't touch what he was holding. His breathing was slow, the sound of the night drowning out in his ears when he focused on the breathing of the baby in his arms. The little bundle of joy nuzzles into his chest, soiled tank top warm enough for the trembling body of his little girl.

You didn't want to see his reaction, scared he will have the same look of horror from the first time he'd seen the baby. Fist clenching the sheets to try to hurriedly wipe the tears from your cheeks, you twitch when he turns towards you.

He holds up the little girl, a look of pure awe and serenity that made your shoulders droop from the tension.

"She has your eyes.."

He cradles him, running a hand through the short patch of hair on his head.

"She also has my hair.."

Coming from Guts was a smile that looked painful to muster but this baby was the best thing that could happen eversince everything. His finger toys with the spikiness of his child's head and you can't help but run to him. The sharp edges of his armour, the ones on his arms that wrap around you slightly pokes you but you couldn't care less.

His reaction was enough, calloused hand wrapping around yours as his eyes speak more to the fear in yours.

This was his baby, his soon to be pride and joy whom he'll fight for.

With you by his side.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

While he focused on his training, he easily brings back kills to feed you as you light up fire for the pot

He spoon feeds the grilled meat in your mouth while he takes the baby in his other hand. Even if you protest that you should hold the baby, he declines that offer

You were a hardworking parent without him and he wants to give his part too if possible, give himself whole for you

Everything was warm enough for you. He pulls that romantic stuff of blowing your hot food for you and you'd slap him playfully when his spit dribbles on to it

When it comes to sleep, he made sure to let you sleep. Ever since he came back, he looked at his baby with a look of longing. like he had lost so much time because of battles, missing the period where you had given birth to a new life.

He traced his fingers against the skin of the girl, she was quite plump. Guts was grateful that you had reside with Rickert and Erica, you look pale, the challenges of childbirth evident on your body but both of his dears healthy and untouched by any danger he had feared of

Small arms wrap around his hand, the swordsman knew he was a walking heater and caressed the little one's face. His palm on her cheek as she gurgles

This is one of the cases where Guts will give you never ending heart attacks when the sun had illuminated the room and his thick body resting down on the baby

You'd pound on his back to wake up, he was a beefcake so your punches barely register not until the baby started crying

"You idiot, you fell asleep on the baby!"

Rickert entered the room to see what the commotion is, he could only chuckle softly but before he asked the couple to tone it down, Erica pulled him out the door with all her might. Rickert nearly stumbled back against the short girl.

Erica shushed him excessively, clutching tea leaves in her hand.

"Shh! Don't bother them."

She huffs, letting go off Rickert's scarf and walked away to start a fire, blowing it a bit before wiping her cheek. That soft look in her eyes wary.

"I haven't seen Mx Y/n this loud before.. not since Guts came back."

Rickert understood the implication, his tense shoulders drooping as he listens to the rattle in the room. Y/n had been restless since the months Guts had been gone from war. Even if Erica had talked with them daily, there's so much a parent could worry about. He clenched his hand, it made sense. Sooner or later, Guts have to leave even if it looked like he won't.

That sword man's always had many things plaguing his mind but for now, he'll stay with his spouse and hold his partner close to his heart.

Griffith

Those sharp eyes look down at his child, sweat running down his face with a tissue lodged in his nose. He held a sword in his hand, one that was in his favourite colours and chattered in excitement on how he won his third fight with the older fighters.

Griffith's eyes slowly trail to the noise of your steps, you looked at your son with endearment but a hint of worry. He was barely bruised and his cuts were covered by bandaids, those eyes of his though were filled with the same fire just like his father's. You adjusted your son's collar to which his eyes follow, whining when you'd pull the ribbons too tight.

"Cmon, dont you want that puff pastry I baked this morning? If you get your teeth knocked out, you can't chew it!"

The little boy lights up to the sound of having a treat after a day of training, he really wanted to bite into something that was as rewarding as his parent's creation. He then runs home, slipping through your fingers to get that bite of pastry. You sigh, holding onto the boy's sword that dropped out of enthuasiasm. When you look back up, Griffith was staring straight at you, a look that sent a chill down your spine before he pulls away.

Unlike Guts, Griffith had already made his plans for his child.

He'll be strong, he'll fight like him but not become just like him

He let his son indulge in human activities like playing about, tasting all kinds of foods, giving him clothes warm and luxurious clothes. Things he weren't able to experience when he was a child

Scratching after scraps of food, the clothes on his back wet from grime and rain and his only childhood friend a sword amongst a pile of dead bodies wasn't something he wanted his child to ever go through

Even if he watches his son play in the garden, he doesn't feel like anything. He would be another weapon whom he can send off into war but he made it count for his creation, the spitting image of him should reign amongst everybody and step on the tombs of his once companions

He does engage in idle talk with his son, maintaining a connection with his creation in order to bring him over on his beliefs. He does find the benefit in attaching himself onto the little one's mind. It was obvious that his normal was completely different from his son, his stories full of sparks of colours while Griffith's was only red

Griffith's fingers occasionally comb through his son's, just what is mentioned prior is that he was a spitting image. It almost seemed like his genes had been more on the dominant side but what was different was the shape of his eyes and nothing more

Griffith smelled the fresh smell of baked goods being made, you had made a new batch instead of reheating the ones in the morning and heads inside. His home was lavish but due to your wishes on wanting to bake alone, the ones under him followed

He follows you and sits down, his hand caressing your face.

"Thank you for this, my love."

He kisses your hand before his son passed his father a piece of puff pastry, putting it on his plate. The dining table was quiet with the clinking of forks and knifes and soft laughter from both of his beloved. He didn't have to eat it, he didn't have to do all of this. He could even succeed without his family.

But maybe, this was a sense of normalcy he always wanted to feel when life was nearly stripped away from him.

[bighitfics]

⤷ kinda wanna harleys in hawaii with a certain jeon jungkook ✧₊⁺ ⭒

[griffithdove]

yucky morning : P

[doves-at-dusk]

Give this man his villain kitty cat 👏

[billfinarts]

An older illustration I did of Berserker with his cub, my oc, Ja'mu.

Despite this piece being two years old, I still love it to bits <3

Little Ja'mu is so precious in his father's arms. Even the most vicious hunters can be gentle at times

[marblemoovt]

Waterfall - Guts/Reader

Masterlist

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, A sprinkle of angst, AFAB Reader, Porn with a little bit of Plot, Oral Sex, Fingering, P in V Sex, Edging, Aftercare (Let me know if I'm missing any)

Summary:

Months after the eclipse, you're still grappling with it all. But at least you're not alone. You might as well get railed to ease the burden of living.

------

“I’m ok,” you repeat, smiling more easily now. His brows furrow and he rests his forehead against yours. 

“I could have lost you,” he whispers, his eyes sheen in the light. You click your tongue and pinch his cheek. Guts scowls but doesn’t move away. 

“But you didn’t. I’m right here. I’m standing right in front of you, so why do you keep looking back?” There’s a slight tremor in your tone. You unclench your fists, pushing him back to create some distance. There’s a brief flash of emotion across his face, but it dissipates with the heat simmering your blood. “I’m right here,” you whisper against the roar of the waterfall. 

Note:

Hello! I know I disappeared for like, almost a year. No freak accidents or anything of the like. Life has just been busy and I have poor time management. But I missed writing, even though it did not miss me ;-; The writing gods did not bless me with inspiration for a long while, not to mention I have a stubborn habit of only having one wip at a time (I have multiple ideas, but I only work on one fic at a time).

In any case, I hope this brings joy to somebody. I am frankly tired from editing this monstrosity so I'll leave you to enjoy :)

Happy Reading! ヾ(•ω•`)o

Note: This does take place in the same universe as Love Triangle but this can be read as a stand-alone.

Water cascades down your body, beating into your skin. The temperature was freezing earlier, but now it’s numbed into a slight chill. You stare at the rock wall, trailing along the cracks and crevices that crater the surface. Sprinkles of minerals sparkle throughout, reflecting rainbows when the moonlight hits them just right. 

The cold bite of metal stings into your shoulder, and you jerk away from the contact. Whirling around, you come face to face with Guts. He stares at his hand, clenching it into a fist before it drops to his side. 

“You’re gonna freeze to death,” he says. You notice the gray towel peeking out behind his arm. 

You drag your fingers through your hair, shaking off the water droplets. A few stray drops trickle down your chin, and Guts watches them drip along your collarbone. “I’ll be done soon,” you say. The phantom blood still sticks to your raw skin, the scent of iron lingering while your body becomes a collage of self-inflicted wounds. You scrubbed and scrubbed, but it’s not enough. Not even an entire ocean can wash away the atrocities you witnessed. But maybe that’s the burden of surviving the eclipse, for living when you were marked for death. 

“You looked done 20 minutes ago. Skin’s gonna start peeling if you don’t stop,” he says. You look away from Guts and pick at the dead skin underneath your nails, grimacing at your wrinkled fingertips.

“I don’t feel done. I don’t think I ever will,” you admit in a hushed whisper. Guts doesn’t say anything, offering his hand for you to take. Accepting the gesture, you’re tugged into his chest. The soft towel gently pats your skin dry and tousles your wet hair. He pauses, eyes scanning your face. “I’m okay, as okay as one can be in our situation.” Your lips twitch into a small smile, but this seems to only frustrate him more. 

Guts growls, his jaw clenched shut. “I’ll kill him.” There’s no room for questioning who ‘he’ is. You bring a hand up to cup his cheek, and his posture relaxes. Your thumb traces the bags underneath his eyes. 

“I’m ok,” you repeat, smiling more easily now. His brows furrow and he rests his forehead against yours. 

“I could have lost you,” he whispers, his eyes sheen in the light. You click your tongue and pinch his cheek. Guts scowls but doesn’t move away. 

“But you didn’t. I’m right here. I’m standing right in front of you, so why do you keep looking back?” There’s a slight tremor in your tone. You unclench your fists, pushing him back to create some distance. There’s a brief flash of emotion across his face, but it dissipates with the heat simmering your blood. “I’m right here,” you whisper against the roar of the waterfall. 

“I’m not…. ”He sighs and finally meets your gaze. “I’m not angry at you.” Guts fiddles with the towel in his hand. “I wasn’t strong enough to save you.” His touch drifts towards the bandages wrapping his torso. 

You walk up to Guts, enveloping him in a hug. “Can we pretend for once that everything is ok? That spirits aren’t hunting us, and a bunch of Apostles won’t fuck up the world?” When he doesn’t respond, you look to see him staring at the ceiling. “Guts?”

“Clothes,” he stutters. “You’re not wearin’ any.” You look down at your naked body pressed against his. 

“You weren’t shy earlier when you were drying me.” Leaning in further has the desired effect when you feel a bulge against your lower abdomen. “Looks like someone has no complaints,” you say with a smirk. 

Guts groans and shudders when you roll your hips. He wraps an arm around your waist, palm splayed against the curve of your back. His hand slides to squeeze your ass, and he whispers into your ear, “Don’t provoke me.” It’s a similar tone to when he shouts orders on the battlefield. You take it as an invitation to tease him further. He notices the glint in your eyes and clicks his tongue. “Brat.”

You know he’s soft beneath that tough exterior. You can see it in how he brings you something warm to drink when it’s cold, how his hands naturally gravitate to your waist or the small of your back. Guts doesn’t like saying it, but you just know. Currently, he’s scolding you for being in the water too long. You won’t point it out, but he grabbed the softest towel to dry you. 

“I love you,” you say. His hands freeze, and the lines on his face soften. 

Guts sighs, “How can you be so lovely and infuriating at the same time?” He cups your cheek but quickly recoils upon noticing the gleam of metal contrasting against your skin. 

You grab his wrist and press a kiss onto the palm of his prosthetic hand. “It’s one of my many talents,” you reply, pressing another kiss to his lips to prevent him from biting them. 

“It’s strange,” Guts mumbles. Your other hand slides down his chest, trailing along his abs to the waistline of his pants. His breath hitches, and he nips your earlobe in retaliation. “Sometimes I still feel it when you touch that hand,” he says. 

“Do you feel this?” You trace the outline of his growing erection, eventually rubbing your hand against the bulge in his trousers. He bucks his hips into your touch, and a low groan escapes from his lips. “Or what about this?” Slipping your hand beneath the fabric, you’re surprised by the lack of an additional layer. “Expecting something, are we?” You grin impishly at him, inching your fingers closer to his cock. Your skin is still cold from the water, and Guts is blazing beneath your touch. 

“Not at”—you firmly grip his shaft and begin stroking languidly—”all,” he forces through gritted teeth. You can almost hear the creak of his jaw as it strains under pressure.

“So you weren’t expecting to find me still naked at the waterfall and indulge in some intimate acts?” You stop stroking to tease the head of his cock, running your thumb over the frenulum. Thick precum coats your hand, and you reluctantly pull away, but only to see the frustration grow on Guts’s face. “Then I guess there’s no need for me to continue.” You wade through the pool and use the waterfall to rinse your hand. 

As you’re flicking off water droplets, a broad chest presses against your back, and thick arms wrap around your waist. The sudden force pushes you into the rock wall, your hands flying up out of instinct to lessen the impact. You turn your head to see Guts, completely bare, his clothes lying in a forgotten heap by the pool. That explains what’s twitching against your lower back. You grind slow, lazy circles against his stiff cock, grinning at how he trembles with the slightest rock of your hips.

“Stop,” he pleads, squeezing his arms to constrain your movements. It’s cute; he’s pretending to stop you, but his hold is too lax. 

You hum and redirect one of his hands to your breasts, sighing at the contact. “If you really wanted me to stop, you wouldn’t be enthusiastically rutting like a dog in heat,” you say. As if to prove your point, a low whine pitches in the back of his throat when you press against him to hinder his movements. 

“So maybe I don’t want to stop,” he admits. “Maybe I want to rough you up against the wall until you can’t walk the next day.” The imagery sends a gush of slickness between your thighs, and you rub them together to ease the ache. 

“Then why don’t you?” You spin around to face him and hook one leg around his thigh, tugging his hips closer. The sharp exhale followed by a groan is music to your ears. Your arms drape over his shoulders, sinking your nails into his broad back. You have him trapped. Or is it the other way around? He could effortlessly pry you off, but his dark eyes hold no intention of letting you go. “I don’t break easily, you know,” you whisper against his lips, his breath fanning your face. 

Guts bites his lips, fingers bruising your hips, marks he’ll kiss in the morning when you’re bedridden. “I—“

You cut him off, and his Adam’s apple bobs. “Let me make myself clear, Guts. I want you to fuck me.” His breath hitches, the click of his throat silenced by the rush of water. “Fuck me so damn hard I don’t remember a thing about this shitty world we live in.” You want to spend at least an hour free from the waking nightmare that plagues your daily life. Maybe this isn’t the best way, but it is the most pleasant. 

You know you’ll go to bed and dream of crimson skies and shrill screams. A world where the tang of metal never leaves your mouth. Where rot and decay fester in your lungs, smothering you alongside the scent of burning flesh. And then you’ll wake up, touch your face to feel the wet streaks streaming down your cheeks. Guts will be sleeping beside you, faring no better in his dreams, relaxing only when you hold his hand and lay on his chest.

Yeah, the world is fucked up, and so is your mental state. You might as well get railed to ease the burden of living.

But enough about later. What’s happening right now is important. And what’s happening right now is Guts pleading with his eyes to please you. He has one arm hooked underneath your leg to support it, the other still wrapped around your waist, hand dipping to cup your ass. He grinds his erection against your clit, and you bite your lip to hold back a moan.

Guts kisses behind your ear, sucking on the spot. Your blood thrums through your veins, buzzing with electricity. “Guess the waterfall will be useful,” he says.

“How so?” you hum, closing your eyes as he trails his lips along your jawline. You tilt your head back, and he peppers your exposed throat with kisses, playfully nipping but careful to avoid breaking the skin. A tingle shoots up from the base of your spine when his teeth scrape over your pulse, tongue laving over your racing heartbeat.

“Others won’t hear any of your screams.” He hoists you up, and your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. “I get to have you all to myself.” Your back thuds against the wall, the rough rock leaving a light sting on your skin. There’s a hunger in his eyes that threatens to devour you. He always gets that look when he’s determined to spoil you rotten.

You ignore the throbbing heat in your core, focusing on the slanted curve of his lips. “Ooh, confident are we?” you tease, dragging your nails across his back, grinning at the shudder it elicits. 

“I’ve always been skillful with my hands,” he says, lowering your feet. At the shallow end of the pool, water laps at your knees. The chill heightens the burn of your skin, and the slickness between your thighs becomes impossible to ignore. Guts sinks down, kneeling in front of you, hands parting your legs gently. He tuts and gazes at you with mock scorn. “You cleaned up earlier, but now you’ve made a mess again.”

“And whose fault is that?” you reply, inhaling sharply when his fingers rub circles into your thighs. 

He hums and plants a kiss on your kneecap, lips skirting up closer to the source of your dripping cunt. “A man should always take responsibility for his actions.” His warm breath is like a spark of flint on kindling. It starts a blazing heat that crawls up and pools in your stomach, spreading throughout your veins until your entire body is engulfed in flames. 

A thin veil of fog blankets your mind. For a second, you almost forget how to breathe. He looks up at you from between your legs, tongue swiping across his bottom lip. He looks eager to taste you; it causes you to clench tightly, gripping around nothing but air. And you want him to fill you up, to replace the void the eclipse left behind after it tore almost everything from you. 

Your body seizes up. A cool jet of air against your clit catches you off guard. Guts looks you in the eyes, trapping you in their dark depths. “If—at any time—you want me to stop, tell me,” he commands. His lips are pressed into a thin line, and he holds your gaze. He won’t continue unless you agree. 

You wrack your brain together, drumming your fingers on the wall behind you to form a coherent thought. But all you can focus on is his warm breath against your skin, the burning ache in your core that beckons for his attention.

Guts sighs, drinking in your scent deeply. He licks his lips, and his fingers dig into your flesh. “I don’t want this to be like the other times,” he admits. 

You stare at him quietly, observing the clarity in his eyes. This isn’t the first time you’ve sought each other’s company. After all, who better to seek comfort from than someone who’s been through the same traumatizing event? Overcome with grief and guilt, you found solace in the warmth of his body and vice versa. It wasn’t always sexual, but sometimes you crave the shelter of having no other thoughts besides pleasure. To know nothing else but pure bliss for a brief respite.

Guts mistakes your silence for rejection. “Let me cherish you,” he pleads. “Let me worship you the way you deserve.” And you recall dark nights of clashing teeth and tongues, scratches and bruises made just to feel something—anything. There’s still a tinge of purple around his collarbone, the imprint of your teeth long faded. The harsh lines on his face are nonexistent. His touch is light, revering. 

You don’t think you’ve ever felt this important. Guts doesn’t treat you like glass. He looks like he would raze the entire world in flames for you, and all you need to do is ask. Cupping his chin in one hand, you stare into his earnest eyes. Guts pulls away to plant kisses along your knuckles. The corners of his mouth curl up at your sigh when he nips at your fingertips. It’s hard to describe this feeling. All the tension and worry in your body building up like a brick wall suddenly crumbles to dust. 

And how can you say no when he looks so eager to please—to love you? A brief taste of copper coats your tongue, and you ignore the phantom claws dragging down your lower abdomen. You focus instead on Guts’s soft touches, the steady gurgle of water, and the moonlight filtering through the pockets of sky in the ceiling. 

You are safe. 

“Ok,” you whisper. Slowly, you spread your legs apart and cool your burning cheeks with the back of your hand. “Please touch me.”

Guts plants a kiss on your inner thigh, trailing upwards. He wants to drag this out and tease you until the anticipation has you dripping with need. With one calloused hand resting on your pubic mound, he licks a long stripe through your folds, groaning at your intoxicating taste. A jolt of pleasure crawls up your back before slamming into your core. 

Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head when he eats you out messily. Obscene slurps and groans bounce off the rock walls. Guts slings one of your legs over his shoulder and focuses on your clit, inserting two fingers into your dripping cunt. Spots of light dance across your vision when he crooks his fingers to stroke your sweet spot. It’s a wonder how you’re still standing. 

Just as the band in your stomach goes taut, Guts pulls away. The pleasure building in your body drops and transforms into a sharp ache that has your body screaming for release. 

“Your legs are trembling,” Guts points out. 

You press harder against the wall and try to remember how to stand. “No, I’m not,” you say. 

Guts hums and plants a kiss on your clit, the kind that fills your veins with lava and sets off the butterflies in your stomach. “You can be so damn stubborn.” He stands and carries you with ease, wading towards the edge. 

“What are you doing?” you ask. 

“Some underwater training,” Guts replies, refusing to elaborate further. He stops and sets you on the ground. The water reaches just below your chest in this position; the sudden coldness shocks your skin. It makes you hyper-aware of your sensitivity. 

Gus parts your legs, and you lean back slightly, using your arms to support yourself from behind. His touch radiates familiarity, hands caressing all the spots that work you up. You lick your lips and part then to ask another question. “Wha—“ 

“Always wanted to see how long I could hold my breath,” Guts cuts you off, petting your clit gently. He gazes at you through hooded lids, a grin ghosting his lips. “They say the average is 3-5 minutes. Let’s set a new record.” His words send tingles throughout your body, and you clench at the thought. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, distracted by the circles he’s drawing with his thumb. If you time it just right, you can buck your hips and have him stroke your swollen clit. 

“Don’t worry about it.” And the next thing you know, his head’s underwater and his tongue is prodding at your entrance. Your fingers immediately thread his hair, tugging his scalp when his nose brushes against your clit.

The water and walls blur into blobs of colour, your heartbeat thundering in your eardrums. The throbbing between your thighs quickens, and that band in your stomach threatens to snap and give you whiplash. Guts brings a hand up close to your clit. You squeeze your eyes shut, dangling on the precipice of an orgasm. 

He surfaces from the water. His shit-eating grin only widens when you vocalize your discontentment. A flick to your clit shortcircuits your brain with a jolt of pleasure, eliciting a scream from your lips. One of your hands slips, and suddenly the world is careening backwards—or is it forwards? 

Strong arms wrap around your body, and suddenly you’re face to face with Guts instead of the ceiling. Water splashes and drenches both of you in the crossfire. You try to stand up, but Guts digs his fingers into your hips. Something warm brushes against your bare cunt. 

This new position has you straddling Guts. Even the most minuscule movements cause some degree of friction. The look in his eyes tells you that he’s barely restraining himself. Since his hands hold your hips in place, you lean forward and attack his neck with bites and hickeys. Guts hisses and immediately stands up, hoisting you with him. 

“Let’s move to land. Wouldn’t want you to drown,” he rasps, shuddering when you lick over his racing pulse. 

“I can think of other ways to leave me breathless,” you whisper, lifting your head and baring your neck. The perfect place for his hands to wrap around. 

“Another time. Right now, I want you to sit on my face,” he says, setting you on the ground. Your cunt throbs in response, and you crawl—a little too eagerly—into position. You stop mere centimetres from his face, hovering in your hesitation. Inklings of doubt blot your thoughts. What if you’re too heavy? What if you smother— “Too long,” he grunts, interrupting your inner monologue. Guts grips your thighs and pulls you down, wasting no time ravaging you with his tongue,

You suck in a breath, hips rocking at a steady rhythm. Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head when his mouth latches around your clit and sucks greedily. He pulls away with a pop, the bottom half of his face glistening with your arousal. He licks his lips and groans, “Fuck, you taste amazing.” 

“Less talking, more licking,” you say.

“What, no please?”

You don’t humour him with a response and take matters into your own hands. You lift your hips and grind against the ridge of his nose.

Guts swears under his breath, inhaling your intoxicating scent. “What am I going to do with you?” he groans. 

You huff in frustration at the loss of stimulation. “What you should have done ages ago. Now shut up before I make you.”

Guts doesn’t move. “Not until you say please,” he says.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” you moan, wriggling your hips to no avail since his hands have barred you from moving any lower.

“I just want to hear you beg for it.” He spreads your lips and admires how wet you are. When you remain silent, he massages the area surrounding your clit. “No? Not gonna cave in?”

You narrow your eyes and scrape your nails against his broad chest. “Fuck, you.” It comes out through gritted teeth. 

Guts chuckles. A low sound filled with mirth. “Oh, love. You wish.” His thumb probes your entrance, pulling out to slide along your slit. “I do have to praise you for holding out this long. It must feel unbearable.” And it does. Your skin is about to burst at the seams as the pleasure threatens to drive you mad. Never given enough to bring you over the edge, but just enough to stimulate the ache in your core—the desire to be filled. 

“Not. At. All.”

Guts clucks his tongue, drawing circles around your swollen clit. “Liar.” He slowly pushes a finger into your cunt, adding another when he feels how wet you are. It doesn’t take long before the squelches reach your burning ears. His fingers curl and stroke that sensitive area on your walls. The pace is agonizingly slow, and it only deepens the ache. You bite down on your bottom lip, almost hard enough to draw blood. 

Your body trembles when he plants a kiss on your clit. Ah, to hell with playing hard to get. You might die if he doesn’t give you an orgasm right now. 

“Guts?” you groan, clenching when he pets your clit in response. 

“Yes, my love?” He sounds so smug. You don’t even need to look to see the smirk on his face. 

“…Please,” you whisper, hissing when he stops his ministrations. 

“Didn’t catch what you said. Gonna need you to repeat that.” He slowly resumes his movements, rubbing his fingertips against your walls. 

You grunt and try to focus, blinking to clear the fog in your brain. “Please. Fuck. Me.” You punctuate each word with a thrust of your hips. Guts’s fingers immediately retract, and you whine at the loss, only to throw your head back when he eats you out like a man starved. 

His hands hold you in place, only allowing enough freedom to ride his face, which you do—greedily. He runs the flat of his tongue across your slit. Every so often he comments on how good you taste, normally ending with how he can never get enough. You don’t know. You don’t really care.  He’s drawing patterns on your clit, each stroke bringing you closer to climax. 

And you’re so close. You can almost feel it. Guts must sense it, too, because he focuses on your clit, hands locking you snugly against his face. With his unrelenting tongue, you cum with a scream. Your entire body buzzes with electricity, clit throbbing in time with your clenches. Guts doesn’t stop, and soon the pleasure borders on pain. It’s too much. You jerk away, but he keeps you trapped in his hold. 

You can’t think anymore. You can only incoherently babble for him to let you go. And then it creeps up on you. The aftershocks of your last orgasm, combined with the continued stimulation, tighten that band in your stomach again. Tears sting the corner of your eyes, blurring your vision. It’s too much. You want it to stop. 

But it feels so fucking good. 

Guts swaps his tongue for his fingers, filling you up once more. Your back arches when he brushes over your g-spot. You mewl and beg him to do it again. 

“One more time. Cum for me one more time,” he orders. And how can you say no when he uses that tone? Guts pays special attention to your previous request, fingers curling with practiced precision. “I want even the gods to hear you scream my name.” 

He doesn’t need to convince you. Liquid heat pools in your stomach, bubbling like a pot about to boil over. His name is the first sound to leave your lips when you come undone. Guts is gentler this time; he draws out your orgasm slowly, careful not to overstimulate you. Your vision burns with tears as your body curls up before sagging bonelessly. 

You heave a sigh and crawl to the side, shuddering when the cold air hits your sensitive skin With a content smile, you stare at Guts in a daze, fuzzy warmth blanketing your mind. 

“Good?” he asks.

“Mhmm.” Your eyes drift to his erection; it twitches under your attention. Suddenly you’re aware of the heady scent of musk in the air. Licking your lips, you look back at Guts. He doesn’t say anything, but his pupils are blown. “Can I?” You inch closer to him, and he nods. You spread the precum leaking from the tip with your thumb. On an impulse, you lick the remainder off your finger, smirking when you hear his sharp intake of breath. 

A bitter saltiness greets your tastebuds, but it’s milder than you anticipated. You well up some saliva in your mouth and use it to lubricate your hand to begin stroking. Slow, firm pumps have him twitching against your palm. 

“Faster, please,” he groans, jerking his hips upwards to match your strokes. 

“Ooh, so you do know how to be polite,” you say as you tighten your grip and increase the pace. Guts’s chest rises and falls faster than before.

His face distorts in a mixture of disbelief and pleasure. “Shut the fuck up,” he grunts, nose scrunching. 

You laugh and rub his thighs soothingly. “Just this once,” and you take as much of his length into your mouth as you can manage. Running your tongue across the underside of his cock, you widen your jaw to avoid scraping him with your teeth. Anything you can’t fit gets stroked by your hands. Glancing up, you notice him watching you with a tenderness that’s been rare as of late. 

He’s been worrying and training almost to the point of obsession. You want to ease that ache in his chest and have him forget momentarily about all you’ve gone through together. Although, judging from how his eyes are starting to glaze over, your objective doesn’t seem that far away. 

It started out small, but now the walls echo with his moans and breathy whines. Each sound is like a lightning bolt between your thighs, burning you with strikes of pleasure. You bring a hand down to play with your clit, hoping to ease the ache. 

His cock pulsates in your mouth. His entire body starts shuddering, and you know he’s close. So you slow to a halt and chortle at his frustration. The look he gives you could wither the low-level spirits that hang around. Taking a breath, you inch slowly down to take more of his cock, chest brimming with pride at how his body immediately tenses. 

“You’re going to kill me here, my love,” he groans, hips stuttering between pulling away and pushing further in. 

You slide your mouth off his cock and lick your lips, massaging his balls with your hand. “I want to milk as much of your cum as I can and drink it all,” you say, rubbing your thumb against the tip. You feel a twitch against your fingers and smirk. “Seems like you’re on board with my plan.”

One of his large, warm hands is placed against your head, stroking your hair. You close your eyes and lean into his touch. “Not the only place I’d like to fill you up,” he says, and you can hear the grin in his tone. 

“Are you sure you can last that long?” you ask, and his fingers cheekily tug on your hair. The gesture draws a chuckle from you. You open your eyes to see him full of amusement. 

“You’re underestimating the stamina of a great swordsman,” he boasts.

You raise a brow. That’s a big claim. “Hm? Then why don’t you show me what your sword can do?” You straddle his hips, your drenched cunt seated against the shaft of his cock. It twitches against you, and you bring a hand down to tease the leaking tip.

“Change of plans?” Guts asks, tone wavering as you slowly pump his cock.

You hum, “I’m feeling a little impatient today.”

“What happened to milking me for all I’m worth?” The cockiness in his tone returns. “Going back now on those big claims?”

You chuckle and flick the head of his cock, watching Guts writhe in response. “You’re trying to rile me up, but it’s not working,” you say.

“Can you blame me? You’re irresistible when you get all fired up,” he says, 

You line up the tip of his cock with your entrance, slowly sinking down until his entire length is inside you. “Sorry to disappoint, but the only one losing their cool today is you.”

You start bouncing your hips, finding a steady rhythm to keep. Angling your body, his cock drags against your walls in all the right places. Guts begins aiming his thrusts when he notices how you cry out each time he hits the mark. 

Guts groans, face screwed tight in concentration. “You’re gonna squeeze me to death,” he moans.

You smirk, running your hands across his chest. “It took you this long to realize my intentions?”

He responds with an airy laugh. “You always were a damn good strategist.”

“And you’re living up to your title, General,” you say, feeling a twitch inside you. “Oh? You like it when I call you that, don’t you?” 

Guts looks at you with a sheepish grin. “If I say I do, will you call me that more often?” he asks. 

You hum, tracing his abs with your fingertips. “I’ll consider it, but it would have to be sparingly. Don’t want to inflate your ego too much,” you tease. A spank smarts your ass. The sting is quickly soothed by a gentle massage. You retaliate with slow, deep thrusts, grinning when Guts curses and loses his ability to form sentences. 

His cock throbs inside you, swelling up in preparation for his release. Guts’s fingers are bruising your hips, and he’s rutting into you. Slamming yourself down, you remain seated.

“Fuck, I was so close,” he groans, cock twitching in your warm cunt. 

“I know. That’s why I stopped,” you say. 

Guts looks at you with betrayal. “You, my dear, are a cruel lover.”

You tsk and clench tightly around him. “I may be a bit mean, but never cruel.”

“If this isn’t cruelty, then wha—“

You cut him off with a roll of your hips, successfully speech-jamming him. “You’ll see,” you say. 

You continue drawing out his release, bringing Guts near the edge only to wrench him away. You’ve lost count—not that you were even counting in the first place—of how many potential orgasms you’ve robbed him of. But from the sour gleam in his eyes, a few too many.

Any of his attempts to take over the pace are thwarted when you turn into an immovable object. The loss of friction is not deemed a worthwhile risk because Guts soon lets you have your way after only a few attempts.  

“Good boy,” you purr, a chuckle tickling the back of your throat. “Look at you, getting turned on when so much as a compliment is awarded.” You drag your fingers down his chest, sloping along the defined ridges of his muscles. “It’s kind of cute,” you admit. 

Guts watches you through hooded lids, mouth parting as incoherent pleas spill between his lips. You tsk and twist your lips into a mock frown. “Oh no. Did I wear you down already?” You cradle his face in your hand, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “I can feel you throbbing inside me. Do you want to cum?” you ask, receiving a shudder in response when you roll your hips. 

“Mhmm,” he grunts, nodding in fervour. Guts runs his hands along your thighs, gently squeezing the soft flesh. “Please,” he adds politely. 

You hum and slow your movements. “Do you deserve to?”

It’s borderline hilarious to watch the gears in his head turn. The vacant look in his eyes shifts as they widen. “I do,” he says, but the slight wobble in his tone is tinged with nerves. 

You can’t stop the grin forming on your face and opt to kiss his damp forehead to hide it. “Relax,” you hush, “I’ll let you cum……

“…eventually.”

Guts groans and slides a hand between your thighs, fingers searching for your clit. You clench tightly around him when he taps it gently with his thumb. “Looks like the blood’s starting to rush back into the right head”—Guts slams his hips upwards, nearly winding you—“Ow, fuck! Ok, ok. No more jokes during sex.” You wince from your sore abdomen. “I’ll cut you a deal,” you pause to gain his attention. “If you make me orgasm within the next ten minutes, I’ll let you cum.”

“You can’t take back your word,” he grunts through gritted teeth. You squeal, arms flailing to wrap around his neck when he flips you onto the ground. There’s a pregnant pause as you stare into each other's eyes. Warm. There’s so much warmth in his gaze for you. “Beautiful,” he says, running his fingers along your face.  

Your chest squeezes tight. You turn your head, feeling the cool stone floor press against your burning cheeks. “9 minutes,” you say. Guts clicks his tongue and lifts one of your legs over his shoulder. He angles his thrusts, ramming into the deepest parts of you. The inferno consuming your body melts your bones to liquid.

“With the sounds you’re making, it won’t be long,” he grunts. You clench tightly around him like a vice. Every well-aimed thrust sends your walls pulsating around his cock. The familiar tightening in your stomach takes hold and threatens to tear you asunder. “Fuck you look so good like this, I don’t think I can hold out much longer.”

You feel calloused fingers brush against your clit, and a bolt of electricity strikes the base of your spine. He chuckles at the way your body curls open like a flower, eager to meet the sun’s rays. When your hips raise to meet him halfway, who is he to deny you of more pleasure?

He brings a finger to his mouth, groaning at your lingering taste on his skin. Before you know it, the building pleasure threatens to burst. He rolls your clit between his fingers, applying constant pressure. Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head. 

How much time was left? Gods, you don’t remember anymore. All you can think about is how you’re a second away from release. 

The intensity drops. Guts’s thrusts remain deep; his cock drags along your walls in a sweet, slow torture. The flames licking your body from the inside are dying, but the embers are stoked just enough to keep the fire going. “You wouldn’t dare,” you seethe between clenched teeth. The muscles in your jaw are almost as tense as the knot in your stomach.

“Who says I wouldn’t?” Guts remarks calmly. A slight chill creeps up your spine, and you begin to sweat for reasons other than physical exertion. 

“But then you don’t get to cum,” you say, trying to build a counterargument to sway him. You were so close;  you needed just a little more to get there. In all honesty, both of you knew that if he really wanted to, Guts could easily ignore the bet. But that would mean destroying the mutual trust you spent years building. And you know both of you would rather die than betray the other.

“You said within the next ten minutes, I still have two left.” He slaps your pubic mound lightly, fingers resting above your swollen clit. “It’s not like you specified a time, only a period. So it doesn’t matter if there’s only a second left as long as you cum before it’s over.” 

You shudder. What have you done?

Guts begins mumbling to himself. Between the grunts and groans, you can just barely make out a decreasing string of numbers. He’s seriously counting down the seconds he has left before the bet is over??

You arch your back, fingers fisting the stone floor with nothing to ground you. “Fuck me,” you sigh, lifting your hips to feel his cock brush against that sensitive spot. 

“Already am,” Guts rasps, wiping the sweat from your brow. “Any other requests?”

“Yeah, fuck me harder.”

He leans down to plant a kiss on your damp forehead. “As you wish.”

And fuck you harder he does. You swear you must be above the clouds with all the stars you see. The slap of flesh echoes in your ears, filled with strained grunts and moans. You like it when Guts is vocal; it makes you feel like you’re doing a good job. One of the quickest ways he can turn you on is by moaning your name, which he’s doing right now. His breathy sighs as your name slips out of his mouth repeatedly like a prayer… it drives you crazy.

There’s only one thought in your mind; it overtakes all the others. You’re on the brink of an orgasm, standing at the edge of a cliff as you wait for the final push. “M’ close,” you say. Your clit throbs, and you feel a tug in your navel as the pressure builds.

“Then let’s bring you closer.” He slowly increases the pace, and your nails claw his back, leaving scratches in their wake. “I want you to look at me when you come undone. Can you do that for me?” You nod, eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head when he rubs your clit. “Good.” His fingers maintain pace, and he consistently rams his cock against your g-spot.

Your body thrums with pleasure, ready to come undone at his command. Guts wraps a hand around your throat and squeezes gently. He wasn’t affecting your oxygen supply, but fuck did it do things to you. His thrusts become deeper, pounding into you at a steady rhythm. 

That was all it took to shove you off the edge. Your walls spasm around his cock in a toe-curling orgasm. All you can focus on is the waves of mind-numbing pleasure crashing into you, the force of the undertow sweeping you away. 

Guts continues to thrust, helping you ride out your orgasm. As you come down from your high, dizzy and lightheaded, you feel his cock swell inside you. He pulls out, pumping his cock as his warm seed spills onto your stomach.

You laugh a breathy chuckle, staring at the mess he made. “I think I need another bath,” you say.

Guts kisses the top of your head and says, “Then let’s get cleaned up.” He scoops an arm underneath your knees and wraps the other around your back.

“Guts!”

“Don’t worry. I won’t drop you,” he says, walking towards the pool. Wading in, he brings you to the stream of water. Already, the spray of droplets is freezing against your skin. You shudder and cling closer to Guts and the heat he radiates. “I’ll help you wash up,” and he lowers your legs, a hand still resting on the small of your back. 

“I am capable of washing myself,” you say. Hopefully, the rising sun made the water at least slightly more tolerable. But from how it feels like your feet are encased in ice, you don’t have much hope. 

Guts cups some water in his hands and pours it onto your shoulders. “I know you can, but I want to,” he says, kissing the side of your temple. “So stop being stubborn and let me help you.”

You roll your bottom lip between your teeth. “I don’t kn—“ Guts flicks water at your face with a smirk. You pause, your brain struggling to process what happened. “You!” Your eyes narrow into a glare. 

Guts bolts, his laughter reverberating the cave walls. You run after him, but it’s difficult despite the water reaching only your calves. Guts is somehow brute forcing his way, but you adapt a weird mixture of hopping and running to catch up. 

Once you’re within arm's length of Guts, you kick up the water, successfully splashing him. The smug grin on your face falters when he turns around with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He moves only a single step before your flight instincts take over. 

Your heart is thumping against your chest, thundering in your ears. His fingertips brush against your spine, and you squeal, dodging to the side. Large splashes grow closer and closer. But they suddenly stop. And amid your confusion, you stop running.

Looking over your shoulder, you see no sign of Guts except a few ripples in the water where you expected him to be.

“Got ya!” Big, strong hands wrap around your waist, and the ground disappears beneath your feet. The world spins in a whirlwind of lights and cool shades of blue and purple. As your surroundings grind to a halt, warm arms pull you into an embrace. Your laughter is dampened by his hug, and you blink to quell the dizziness. 

You stare into his eyes, watching black swallow brown. He brings a hand up to cup your cheek. “Shower?” you whisper, unwilling to break the stillness. If the universe would let you, you would spend every day like this with him. To wake and sleep together, sharing the mundane moments of life and experiencing the little pockets of joy as they occur. But that’s not the kind of world you live in— not if Griffith has anything to say about it.

Guts leans forward to plant a kiss on your forehead. “Yeah, let’s get cleaned up.” He guides you back to the waterfall, fingers intertwined. You follow him without resistance. All the running around has warmed you up, but that only makes the water feel colder. Guts is careful as he washes you. “I know it’s cold, but you’re being so good for me,” he coos. His hands firmly glide across your skin. You feel him pause to trace the scars on your body, gently tracing the thin lines on your lower abdomen. His touch dips down between your thighs, and you part them. 

He does nothing more than clean up the mess he made, but you’re still sensitive. Little tremors run through your body, the aftershocks of your ground-shaking orgasm. Guts surprises you with a kiss on your neck. You swear this man is trying to kill you with his affection. With the uncomfortable slickness gone, you lean against Guts and relish in him pampering you. If only you had brought more soap. You could have asked him to wash your hair.

“Done?” he asks, to which you nod. Guts picks you up again and carries you to dry land, where he dries you off with the towel again. “Arms up,” he commands. And before you know it, a shirt is pulled over your head. The fabric still smells like him. Smoke from a fire pit and the medicinal scent of herbs from his ointment. You glance over and watch him put on his pants. Your eyes trail along the scars on his body. Most of them have healed nicely, but they’ll always remain to remind you how close to death you were that night.

Your fingers absentmindedly rest against the area of your brand. Before you can slip into a spiral, Guts calls out your name. His brows are furrowed, and his eyes are focused on where your hand is. “I’ll be fine,” you insist. You’re unsure if he believes you, but he nods and doesn’t pry further.

Your eyes begin to droop, and a big yawn escapes your mouth. “I think it’s time to rest,” Guts says. Luckily, your sleeping arrangements aren’t too far. With Rickert’s help, Erica was able to find a larger bedroll for you and Guts to share. You never voiced the thought out loud, but you liked the closeness it forced. Something about sleeping in his arms brought you a sense of peace and security.

When he holds you at night, the nightmares leave you in peace. The screams quiet, and the stench of iron is replaced with cedar and smoke. The arms around your waist are tender. Guts is like a kiln; you’re dry clay—fragile at first but robust after exposure to his warmth. 

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” Guts asks, petting your hair. You’re lying in bed, limbs tangled like vines wrapped around a tree. 

The corners of your lips curl up. “Like what?” 

Guts leans his forehead against yours. “Like I’m everything to you. That’s my job,” he says. 

You’re smiling so much your cheeks ache. “I love you.”

Guts mirrors your smile. His hand slides down to cup your face. You can feel his breath tickle your skin. His eyes dart to your parted lips before closing the gap. 

The kiss is slow and tender. Soft, pliable lips that leave you panting for air. Guts trails his mouth along your jawline, leaving a path of fire as he moves to the hollow of your throat. 

You can’t help but let out a content sigh when he pays attention to the sensitive area. Your cheeks tingle at the thought of waking up and being greeted with a new mark. Guts plants one last kiss on your collarbone before drawing you closer to him. 

“I love you so much,” he mumbles into your skin. You snuggle into him, wanting his scent to envelop you. His next words are so quiet you almost miss them. “Promise me you won’t leave, too.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. You look into his eyes and see a reflection of what you’ve become. His dark circles fare no better than yours, and that vengeful spark has dulled, having been weathered over time by grief. 

You lost your friends and family, but so did he.

With the brand carved into your skin and the spirits waiting around every corner to devour you…. “You know I can’t promise you that,” you say, and you hate how your words feel like a punch to your own gut.

“Then lie to me and promise anyway,” he whispers, staring at you through glossy eyes.

You bite your lip but refuse to look away. Raising a hand to wipe his tears, you say, “I promise to stay for as long as I’m able.”

Guts nods, soothed by your response. “Rest. I’ll keep us safe.”

Us. The word sends your heart a flutter. You shift into a comfortable position and drift into darkness, dreaming of campfires and starry skies for once. 

End Note:

It's like I can't decide whether I want the fic to be sad, happy, or horny. So why not all three?

I also decided to bite the bullet and get image dividers, because trying to get center formatting and having it stay consistent across platforms is tiring. Do they look ok? I got them from a Tumblr post by @/saradika if anyone wanted to know.

I have no idea when my next work will come out. I already have some fics queued up and knowing myself, I'll either speed right through them, or drag them out too long and lose interest lol

I'll see you guys at my next hyperfixation! (。・∀・)ノ

Reblogs are appreciated!

[diegowife]

Guts ( GOLDEN AGE ARC )

Guts As Your Boyfriend SCENARIO

No Warnings

A Bit Yandere ¿

Part 2 ( NOT CONNECTED ): Post-Eclipse

• First of all, his other comrades could gape in disbelief seeing someone like you, kindhearted and gentle, deserve a fierce man like Guts.

• In spite of his intimidating presence, it was difficult for them to accept that he could indeed be your boyfriend as all he does is brandish his sword and ruthlessly slaughter any human that crosses his path on the battlefield.

• PDA is something that Guts despises. Its presence, particularly in public, is something that he would certainly find quite awkward. Unsolicited neck kisses from you are also something that he strongly disapproves of.

• In private, his affectionate nature truly reveals itself. Displaying his profound fondness towards you in the presence of his comrades is not his preference. Nevertheless, it is essential for everyone to be aware that you are exclusively his alone.

• In the forests, the only setting where he feels comfortable showing affection towards you publicly (restricted to just the two of you), he doesn't hesitate to embrace your waist. Occasionally, he enjoys teasing you.

• He also adores clasping your waist and drawing them near.

• In the initial stages of the relationship, the only terms of endearment he utilizes for you exclusively consist of ‘Dumbass’ and ‘Jerk.’ This should come as no unexpected revelation.

• Upon reaching a state of comfort, he consistently addresses you with the customary term while incorporating either ‘Love’ or ‘Babe’ depending on his mood.

• Engaging in his physical touch involves allowing him to place his head on your lap while you delicately run your fingers through his hair. It is also experienced when both of you intimately intertwine your fingers.

• Seeking comfort from your touch is the sole method to alleviate his concerns, which consistently proves effective.

• Before embarking on the mission commanded by Griffith, he adored the gentle and tender quick kisses on your lips.

• “Take care, yeah? I will not be dead, I promise.”

• Other than that, he may display reckless behavior and may not even show concern for offering an apology.

• In every debate, he is swift to lay blame on you and incessantly strives to emerge victorious, even though he is often the one who started the argument.

• Despite his stubborn nature, he refrains from criticizing or belittling you when engaged in an argument. To illustrate this, he does not resort to using derogatory terms such as ‘dumb,’ ‘stupid,’ or ‘fool.’

• “Tch, y'know, I have reached my limit with the nonsense you constantly spew. Don't talk to me again and deal the problems with yourselves this time!”

• However, his words are not intended to be taken seriously; they are simply a dramatic expression because the next day, he would present you with a quantity of fruit collected from a tree and placed in a bucket as an earnest gesture of apology.

• The bestowal of gifts is not a preference for Guts; his offerings consist solely of flowers plucked from the garden or a handcrafted floral crown fashioned only during his leisure moments. Indeed, he does not possess an inclination towards bestowing presents.

• “Dumbass, at least I got a present for you. Why are you even complaining?....”

• In spite of everything, Guts inevitably starts feeling envious when witnessing your increasing intimacy with his allies, especially Griffith. Even though Griffith is Guts' closest companion and depends on him, Guts remains uncertain about allowing you to interact with him.

• Guts becomes aware that both genders exhibit great enthusiasm toward Griffith and regard him with reverence akin to that of a God. Guts has his reasons for discouraging you from spending too much time with Griffith; who can say if you'll end up becoming a devoted fan of Griffith in the future?

• One time, during your conversation with Griffith, Guts unexpectedly approached the two of you and forcefully pushed you aside.

• Noticing Guts becoming sullen and defensive is truly precious. Nevertheless, your genuine displeasure arises due to the fact that you exclusively perceive him as the only person with whom you can communicate.

• “Why the hell are you spending some time with that twink?!!? I'm literally right here!”

• Occasionally, Guts can exhibit rather confusing behavior sometimes. On one occasion, he may display intense passion towards you, while on the following day, he might become perplexed if you attempt to establish more comfortable with him, catching him off guard.

• “Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?” 

• “Why did you try to kiss me?!”

• Exist of having a partner or in a relationship seems to slip his mind, almost as if it disappears from his thoughts. It wouldn't be fair to hold him accountable for this oversight; perhaps it's a result of the immense fatigue he experiences while engaged on battlefields, hindering his ability to grasp his thoughts accurately.

• In addition, Guts held a deep concern for your well-being. Take, for example, how Judeau and Corkus extended an invitation for a shared wine drink. However, Guts swiftly confiscated the bottle, forcefully shattering it on the floor. 

• “Don't you ever dare to accept anything from what my comrades gave you.”

• He strongly advises against you engaging in any potentially dangerous activities without his knowledge. Ultimately, he fears the consequences that may arise, envisioning a situation where you end up succumbing to intoxication, mirroring the experience of his late father.

• “I don't want you to be as pitiful as my old man back in the days....”

• Guts observe his peculiar sense of pride when Y/n is unexpectedly praised for the noticeable growth of his muscles or when he emerges victorious from a duel. He dismissively chuckles, portraying himself as the utmost embodiment of strength, impressing his partner.

• Demonstrating his biceps and measuring himself against others is his preferred method of flaunting his strength, allowing him to observe your entertained response proudly.

• “Me? Strong? Nah, I ain't really that strong. But keep in mind, I'll be the last man standing on a battlefield!”

• When it comes to sharing food, Guts is highly possessive. He refuses to relinquish the final portion of food to anyone else.

• “Nope, get it yourselves....”

• In order to provoke him, the optimal method and most effective tactic is to approach his fellow companions, such as Pippin and Rickert, and engage in the act of food sharing.

• Upon witnessing Pippin and Rickert tenderly feeding you food as if you were a little girl, an intense surge of anger welled up inside him.

• With a firm approach, Guts would seize your wrist, voicing his frustration, “What on earth are you doing!?” It was as if he had conveniently forgotten his own unwillingness to share food with you.

• On the other hand, if he discovered you crying, he observed as you concealed your face within the depths of your knees. An expression of confusion caused his brows to elevate, prompting him to playfully poke your head multiple times.

• “The hell you cryin' for?”

• Regrettably, he failed to acknowledge that his actions simply exacerbated the situation. With a sense of agitation, he clumsily tousles his hair as he finds himself unfamiliar with the task of comforting others.

• Besides, he never had anyone comforting him, so he's obviously shit at it. 

• “Gahh... how do I deal with this...”

• When your head rises, instantly his gaze falls upon your face, where red and swollen eyes meet his sight. Observing you in such a state causes a momentary pause for him; a sense of tranquility overtakes him as he descends and bends down alongside you.

• Witnessing you in such a state inflicts upon him a sensation akin to a sharp blow to the chest. The brewing question in his mind is, what if the fault lies upon his shoulders?

• “Hey, now, I don't like seeing you this way. Tell me exactly what happens.”

• Instead of yelling at him to leave, he anticipates your outburst, yet you continue to sob incessantly.

• Having a lack of aptitude in offering advice, Guts excels in the art of listening. He remains attentive to every expression and release of emotions you convey. Not once did his attentive listening falter, ensuring that your words were never overlooked.

• He'll let you bury your face into his chest and enables you to cry your heart out.

• Therefore, with a heart full of warmth, he will greet you with his most radiant smile while gently patting your head.

• ”Crybaby. Smile; you're adorable when you smile more.”

• In the midst of slumber, Guts will unanticipatedly carry you in a bridal style, gently cradling you in his arms, to an undisclosed destination amidst the woodlands.

• The destination to which he will take you remains uncertain. This gentleman is inclined to lead you up the hills, near the river, or perhaps even closer to the summit of the mountain to instill feelings of fear within you.

• Occasionally, he would drop you off under the tree as you and he sat together, allowing both of you to marvel at the crescent moon illuminating the night sky.

• Throughout the night, a transformation would take place within him, causing him to adopt a gentle demeanor. This shift in behavior can be attributed to the absence of people and the serene night air that envelopes him.

• During cuddle sessions, Guts will softly press his lips against your jawline, all the while gently caressing your cheeks with his thumb. The warmth and comfort of his hugs are undeniable; whenever his tender touch graces your skin, you experience an overwhelming sensation of melting in his presence.

• Murmuring sweet words to you is his habit before dozing off to sleep.

• “Tch, you never fail to steal my heart..”

• “I feel so safe with you; it's embarrassing...”

Thank you so much reading !

[aztecbrujeria]

Thinking about the way your dishes are mismatched, thrifted from the local donation centers, and they sit drying on the rack as you look out the kitchen window. Smiling as you watch him chase your little one with her bright bows in her hair. The squealing and the sounds of the mythological monster “Fe-Fi-Foing” carried with the early morning breeze.

The smells of breakfast and coffee still linger beside you on the stove while the smells of morning dew and earth come in. Here in your perfectly chaotic small home, where the old washer shakes, the fridge hums on covered in macaroni art, and the little slice of heaven seems to shine just right through the dusty windows you desperately need to clean.

Here you never thought you’d stand as a woman…a wife…a mother. All the sacrifices you had given of yourself and dreams seem worth it. Smiling and feeling your heart swell you let the soapy dishwater keep you in the moment when your big lug of a husband catches your little gremlin and they fall down in the grass laughing hysterically.

“This is heaven.”

Toji, Sukuna, Capitano, Sylus, Nuevillette, Zhongli, Kafka, Cyno, Guts, Captain Obi, Konro, Benimaru, Chosito, Yuji, Megumi, Bakugo, Izuku, Kirishima, Shoto, Dabi, Daichi, Kita, Osamu Miya, Ushijima, ichigo, sanemi, Genya, Gyomei, Tanjiro, Inosuke, Sephiroth, Edward Elric, Alphonse Elric, Adrian tepes, Trevor Belmont…

[apollodarling-writes]

Stay With Me

cw: soft smut, griffith is soft, self indulgent, creampie, praise, cock warming

Tender kisses trail the length of your neck, feeling almost reverent as Griffith's fingers intertwine with yours. He shallowly thrusts into you, murmuring words of praise before he connects his lips with yours, pressing deeper into your drooling cunt.

"I love you." He murmurs, squeezing your hand. "I love you so much."

You mewl in response, gummy walls gripping his cock as if you were afraid he'd leave. "I love you too."

Griffith groans, gripping your waist as he loses himself to pleasure. You whine, back arching and fingers gripping the sheets of your shared bed as his cockhead reaches spots inside you that you had no idea existed before him.

"Griffith," You whimper, ""M gonna cum."

Griffith leans closer, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your chest, quietly groaning into the curves of your breasts. "Cum for me, dear."

You pull him closer, walls clenching and fluttering around his cock as you chant his name. "That's it, dear." He groans, thrusts growing sloppy as his own high nears. "You're doing so good for me- just a little bit longer."

After a few more thrusts, Griffith's hips still, cock throbbing inside of you as thick ropes of cum spill into your cunt. He gently pulls you to into his chest, cock still sheathed inside of you as his arms wrap around the small of your back. In the moment the two of you were one, or at least it felt that way.

Griffith presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, murmuring, “Let’s stay like this for awhile.”

[gamblersdoll]

guts likes it when you sit in his lap.

he doesnt know what it is. you just did it one day and he hasnt been able to not think about it since. he absolutely liked the feeling.

he does that to pat on his thigh when youre around. just a semi dominant way to say “seats open.” but allows you space. he doesnt want to control you.

yet, he craved the feeling of your touch. he likes the feeling of his big, thick calluses on his palms rubbing over your skin. the way you instinctively lean back against him and he holds you like that.

he just.. likes how you feel in his everything.

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

ykw i usually don't care that much for fluff or fix-it au's bc the drama and devastation are the point for me but. griffguts are so miserable and toxic and doomed and tragic and catastrophic and doomed and tragic and catastrophic and toxic and like. so fucking unbelievably miserable that i'll eat up every single fluff/fix-it au fic of them

[aldryrththerainbowheart]

Guts SFW alphabet

Fandom: Berserk

Relationships: Guts x reader

Note: Gaaagh...Finally! It's done. My message box is swarming with ideas and asks and I had to get this done before doing anything else. Again, I'm posting a random pic instead of Berserk related pic because I can.

-Aldryrth

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Sorry, Guts’ range of affection is caring whether you live or die. That being said, the man would at least try if he end up in a relationship. Hard life toughens people up, but it also makes them more sensitive, and tender in some places. Like scar tissue that has never been completely restored. There are moments when Guts needs you. He survived many of these battles with his mental health somehow intact because there was always your voice, bringing him back from the dark corners of his mind, reminding him why is he fighting.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Protective. You’re not getting into any fights or following your stupid ideas as long as Guts is around. He’s the type of friend you’d ask for a huge favor and all he’d say would be: “When?” and “Whaddya want me to do?” He’s a constant, reassuring presence in your life. It’s difficult to gain his friendship, but when you do it’s for a lifetime.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

The mans a cuddler, even though he doesn’t know it. He may not even realize what he’s doing is cuddling or he may do it unconsciously. Whether he leans on you after a long day of traveling or drapes an arm around you when sleeping. Guts gets more cuddly the more he is tired, so I advise you to take advantage of that.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

All Guts know is to swing a sword, but if the war ended and Griffith would be defeated, there would be no use for mercenaries like him, so he would be forced to settle. Changing your life is always easier when you have someone adapting with you. He would need your help and support when accustoming to this new lifestyle. If given the right instructions, there are not many Guts couldn’t do with his hands. I see him as the type to build a house he’d live in with his partner and family. Occasionally his hands would itch to hold a sword handle, so you could find him in the backyard of his home swinging with that massive blade of his.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He would approach the matter the way he does everything in life, straight ahead, bluntly, and to the point. He thinks you deserve that the matter is dealt as painlessly and quickly as possible, without any shitty excuses.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quickly would they want to get married?)

Guts never thought about marriage before. That goes against his credo which is: to plan only for the next day ahead. The lives of mercenaries tend to be short and unpredictable, so there’s no reason for any big plan such as marriage. Another reason why Guts may not rush into engagement is he is not used to such big commitments. Technically, the last time he gave away his life to someone it didn’t end well. He may be worried about leaving you alone in this world if he were to die. It may not even occur to Guts that he could marry someone he’s considered a partner for some while. His comrades would have to probably knock some sense into him and tell him it’s about the time most couples get married by this point.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

The black swordsman is the definition of Not Gentle in any sense of the word. Now there’s something that needs to be said. When a person is accused of lack of gentleness or outright called brute, we usually envision someone inherently cruel and mean. With Guts, it’s a mix of his personality, background, and severe trauma that caused his overall roughness. Gentleness had no place in his life. He never encountered it, nor he had any use for it. The reason he’s such a skilled mercenary is exactly his toughness. This goes so far that Guts is confused and defensive when given a shred of kindness. However, people who were not treated kindly and were forced to be tough by their environment are often those most sensitive. He may not know how to be gentle, but he can teach, observe, absorb, and even reciprocate if given the right pointers.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Addressing the previous text, Guts is tougher than nails mercenary swordsman. Hugs is not something he usually participates in. In anime and manga, he even pushed people away when they got into his personal space, specifically telling people not to touch him. It’s a defense mechanism. Most of the physical contact he got in his life was in a form of combat and he doesn’t know how to feel about other kinds. He’s scared of being vulnerable with someone, understandably. Give him time. Be careful with him. Take small steps. First, get him to allow you to stand close to him. Then, casual, fleeting touches. Until you wrap your arms around him. Better yet, ask him if you can touch him and wait patiently for consent, or open your arms and prompt Guts to embrace you on his own terms. Your first hug is endearingly awkward. Guts kinda woodenly wrapping his arms around you, not really touching you, with the two-inch distance between your bodies. Until he slowly presses his body into you, standing there like a statue, unsure what else to do. While you have time of your life, smushing your face into his pecs and caressing his back.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Probably never. Guts may never tell you these exact words, but he would show you with his actions. These words just don’t come to him easily. He’d rather say: “You’re important to me” or “I can’t lose you”.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

The black swordsman may actually get quite jealous and possessive. He would tell you that he’s not possessive, merely territorial over something that belongs to him. Most of the time he doesn’t overstep your boundaries unless he’s truly feeling threatened. He had to fight tooth and nail for that handful of possessions he has, you bet your ass he’d always keep a check on you. For Guts, it’s not that he thinks you would cheat on him, but more that other people might get funny ideas. He’s also competitive as hell, I don’t think that’s being talked enough about.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

The flavor of Guts’ kisses depends on the situation and the stage of your relationship. In the beginning, the kisses will be hesitant and soft, due to Guts’ lack of experience, mixed with his nervousness and clumsiness in anything intimate. He quickly presses his lips to yours, hoping you wouldn’t notice the slight tremble and pause before his lips met yours. And yes, Guts’ is really nervous about messing up your first kiss. He would die first before admitting it tho. After he gets confident in his skills and his position in your relationship, his kisses would get more passionate and powerful. This guy is big on I-haven’t-seen-you-for-some-time-and-I-have-to-have-you-now kinds of kisses. The ones when he stalks to you in powerful strides, dark eyes boring into you. Unknknowing bystanders would think he wants to kill you from his body language. Although Guts has some stabbing in the plan, as he sweeps you into his arms and his mouth devours yours, ignorant about where he is or who’s watching. If that’s the case everybody better get the fuck out of his way because he’s been craving you for months.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Not really, Guts are not good with kids. He doesn’t know how to interact with them or how to treat them. Not to mention he finds their weakness and innocence triggering. However, in the manga, he clearly tries his best to take care of that little kid. As he grows older, he might associate a family with the stability he never had, and when he holds his child, an incredible sense of protectiveness washes over him. Extremely protective parent who treats his children like they are made of glass, even as they get older. He’s the type of dad that doesn’t always communicate and connects well with his kids, but they know he means well.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Guts usually wake up before you to start the day with a bit of sword training. When he gets to the point in his life where there’s no imminent danger or quest, he likes to laze around for a day. Good luck getting anything done when he decides it’s one of these days because the man is not spending that time in bed alone.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

In an established relationship with Guts, things quickly fall into a routine. Once you actually have a place to live in, evenings become your favorite routine. As you both prepare for bed, you watch muscles rippling in his back as he pulls his shirt over his head and he brushes your hair, you two settle for bed. You don’t go a single night without sharing a kiss goodnight. When he sleeps, Guts always unconsciously touch some part of your body with his.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Phew…that’s a tough one…Very, very, very late into the relationship. Obviously, there are things that are extremely hard for him to talk about and then there are things he talks about matter-of-factly and flippantly without realizing how awful and traumatizing the event was. Sadly, Guts doesn’t have all the standards as to how he should be treated. He also has major memory lapses and remembers only chunks of twisted versions of moments from his past.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Well, he is a berserker. Patience or serenity is not his forte. Then again he took upon a Sisyphean task of defeating Gods’ Hand and Griffith. I’ll say he has short temper for short-time things, but when he sets his sight on something, he goes a long and strenuous way to get it. With his partner, certain things just boil his blood. Not listening to his orders, getting injured or pestering him with questions, and sometimes having pretty reasonable demands. Guts go-to emotion is usually anger and then he actually thinks about it and realizes he was a bit too harsh, or not. The mans stubborn as hell. He just won’t budge on some things.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Guts surprise you with how many things he knows and remembers about you. You feel sometimes like he doesn’t care about you the way you do for him, but you’re wrong. He’s always watching, always listening even if it doesn’t look like it. He always keeps checking on you, especially in crowded places. He can be talking to anybody or looking the other way but his senses will be always acutely aware of your presence. Before you two got together he listened intently to your chatter with others, looking like he couldn’t care less or even that the noise annoys him (brat).

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Your first time. It may sound silly but your first time was literally the definition of perfect, at least for him. It was after a battle with one of the apostles. They were dead but at the price of Guts’ wrecked body and mind. You were changing his bandages at the moment you carefully treated his wounds with a contracted stomach. You were a superb healer, but you can’t do miracles. Then, you noticed him shaking. You dropped everything and held onto him until he calmed down. After that, he suddenly pressed his lips against yours and start to pull at your clothes. The last thing he remembers is you urging him to be gentle, otherwise, he’ll open his wounds. And he was, in fact, he remembers that moment to this day because the Black Swordsman is not a soft man, but back then he loved with all the softness he didn’t even know he possessed.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Extremely protective. One of the few signs of him showing affection. I’m pretty sure as Berserk fans we can all see and agree on strong protective urges for this man, but only to certain people. Now what needs to be talked about more is how weak it makes Guts when someone is protective of him. The older he gets, the more he learns to appreciate that, especially after Eclipse.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

His partner would have to be the one keeping track of these things. Guts would even think it’s nonsense. You love one another, why address it with such frivolities?

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Guts is unadaptable and stubborn. This man will probably hurt your feelings a lot before you get together. Guts don’t mince words and when it comes to empathy he’s like an elephant in a porcelain shop. Many times he watched you leave angrily or in tears with a thought Was it something I said? Ugh. Good luck if you try to talk him out of something, the man won’t budge, no matter how wrong it is. Compromises don’t work with this guy. He’s an insensitive fuck. Part of it is his trauma, and part of it is just him being a jerk. There’s a reason he never had a partner, Guts has a charm of a tree stump. Guts also likes to throw himself in danger mindlessly, to the point where you are not worried for him anymore, just annoyed and frustrated. His idea of heroism is confused with stupidity. Impatient. Whatever it is, he wanted it done yesterday before he even thought of it. Very private guy, to the point where he’ll budge only when your relationship is at stake. Sorry to tell you, but being with this guy is just not easy. Guts knows he’s a bit of an ass, all the more he appreciates that you give him the time of your day.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Guts don’t give a rat's ass about how he looks, as long as he doesn’t smell bad in front of you. He doesn’t consider himself attractive. His blueprint for an attractive man was always Griffith, considering how everyone swooned over him, and since he’s his exact opposite, personality and looks wise, he’s gotta be ugly right? That doesn’t bother him any. He always perceived his body in terms of functionality, not appearance. He’s big and sturdy enough to withstand most blows and strong enough to wield his sword, that’s what matters to him. Not if he meets someone who considers him attractive and is pretty vocal about it well…Needless to say, your words of admiration occupy his mind even if he brushes you off. If he ever catches you watching him, he maybe, maybe preens a little and would throw in an extra flex for some more appreciative looks. Now he understands why Griffith enjoys them so much.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Depends on the depth of your relationship. For me, it’s very difficult to say how Guts would handle his loss of you. By experience, he would power through it and would do his best to move on because no amount of grieving would bring you back. The longer the two of you would be together, the more he would feel the lack of your presence in everything he has, everything he sees, and everything he experiences. Even the smallest of things. The empty space on shelves where your stuff occupied it. The plant that you used to take care of is now wilting. Your smell starts to dissipate from your sheets. If Guts misses you, he’ll never shows it in front of others.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Guts has social anxiety and doesn’t know it. This is medieval times we’re talking about, so the concept of mental health didn’t even exist until the 19th century. His avoidance of social gatherings and large groups goes beyond his lone-wolf persona. The mans anxious and scared. Whenever he’s in a large crowd his heartbeat picks up, he gets overwhelmed and disoriented and has to get himself out of there. His partner knows this and they’re his support the same way cheetahs have support dogs. You make this more bearable just by him being able to sense your presence through your joined hands.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Lack of character. You Gotta learning how to Stand up for yourself. He can't dote on you and watch alternativní you all the time. Guts doesn't have patience with shy and meek People.

People that talk about themselves 24/7. The royal country was swarmed People like this and all they ever earned from Guts was a .ocking scoff. Let him Děčíně if you're worthy of his time with actions rather than words.

People who have constant need to prove something about themselves. cough Griffith cough

Clingy people. The quickest way to turn him off. He loves you he chose you, there’s no need for you to follow him like a lost puppy all the time. He’s bit of an ass. Guts will consider even general affection between two lovers as clinginess. You come up to him to take his arm and he’ll rips it away like you’ve bruned him. Relax, jeez.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Depends on time and place, he can be very heavy sleeper. If he's wrought out after battle, he'll sleep like a log. Most of the times though, he's alert even in his sleep. Not even a mouse gets past his. Also, his night tend to be mostly his curse with one or two hours of sleep. If he's able to fall into deep sleep in your presence it's a sign that he trusts you. Lot's of tossing and turning. Whoever sleeps with better watch out or they'll end up with black eye.

[chuluoyi]

suddenly i’m in the mood for gojo angst😐

[byberbunk2069]

The girlies are comparing their cyberspines.

(@gibson-girlboss’s Valerie Yukimura with Ronnie)

Valerie does throw a bit of caution at Ronnie, warning her about the potential risks of getting chipped with experimental cyberware (that was stolen from some cheapskate john).

But hey, Ronnie’s had her hybrid Sande-Berserk for a good few years and nothing bad has happened (yet).

[shinjukuspiritcommittee]

A wholesome Summosnap story I made Pt2

Part 2 of the (not so) long awaited part 1