#i want to scratch until I'm bone

[advisorsage]

I hate hate hate the way my brain is wired right now

I got overstimulated cause I haven't showered in too long (depression and dysphoria make it hard along with chronic pain) and wasn't wearing comfy clothes (my shirt had a literal collar around my neck which makes me feel like I can't breath and I was wearing pants I don't typically wear all for an interview) plus I was out longer than anticipated

I finally get home and take a shower

I can't use soap cause the soap feeling will make the overstimulated feeling come back and be worse and I don't feel like attacking anyone tonight

I notice a *slight* build up of dead skin on my arm

I start scrubbing at it

I can't stop

I end up scrubbing everywhere I can reach on my body so hard I leave marks and clog the hair catcher

I finally move on to my scalp

The gunk won't stop

I scrub in the shower for over 2 hours

I finally get out of the shower and dry off

More dead skin

I rub at it with the towel until it hurts

I ask someone I live with (she picks at my scalp all the time) to see if she wants to try getting three last of the gunk off

She informs me I can't get it without shampoo

I now need another shower

...and I'm itchy like I was before my shower

[chososrightnipple]

❝𝐤𝐧𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 + 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬❞

a/n: as usual, afab!body w/no gendered language. y'all i swear i'm back surely... i totally don't work five eight and a half hour shifts in a row after this... not at all.... anyway didn't include all of the hashira just because i don't want this to feel too overcrowded, might do a part two though if anyone wants a specific character. enjoy!

── დ ──

. *. ⋆ SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA

▸ face fucking. he loves taking his frustration out on your poor throat, especially after particularly drama filled hashira meetings. watching the way the spit dribbles past your lips and how your eyes roll into the back of your head so unashamedly.

▸ spit kink. he goes crazy for it fr. having you kneel in front of him as he takes ahold of your jaw. forcing your mouth open and instructing you to stick your tongue out before spitting. he moans so beautifully when you readily accept his gift and swallow.

▸ choking. he loves the feeling of wrapping his hands around your throat and squeezing, seeing how your cheeks redden. enjoying the choked gasps you struggle getting out with every thrust inside of you.

▸ degradation. he's got a mouth on him, that's for sure. insults upon insults thrown at you, practically babbling about how much you're a dirty whore- his dirty whore- the closer he gets to his orgasm.

▸ brat taming. breaking you down until your nothing but a shivering mess. you always just have to give him attitude, don't you? running your mouth until he's forced to put you back in your place.

. *. ⋆ GIYUU TOMIOKA

▸ hair puling. both giving and receiving. shamelessly moaning anytime your fingers brush against his scalp, yanking at the hair while his tongue licks at your trembling walls.

▸ body worship. he's so fucking in love with you and that's especially in the bedroom. he spends hours memorizing your body, trailing your curves, kissing at the dips in your skin. all before he even thinks of fucking you.

▸ bondage. intricately tying your wrists and ankles to bedposts, the roughness of the rope scratching at your skin with every pull. he'll stand above you for a few seconds after, just watching how you squirm against the restraints.

▸ cock warming. sometimes he's just so bone tired from it all. he just needs to feel you, nothing more. sitting you on his lap and sinking his cock into your welcoming walls. face burying into your neck and savoring the feeling.

▸ sensory deprivation. goes kind of hand in hand with his love of tying you up. he has an extensive collection of silk ribbons, in all kinds of colors, that he'll have you model for him later that night.

. *. ⋆TENGEN UZUI

▸semi-public. he's so daring with it, really. when he wants you, he wants you, and he's not ashamed of that. fucking you in too small closets as maids at the butterfly mansion pass by, or on the top of a roof where nightlife bustles below.

▸ size kink. he's fucking huge, towering over you in every sense of the word. seeing how your lips struggle stretching around his cock or how small your hand is compared to his- it drives him absolutely insane.

▸ breeding. my god please don't get me started on this.., he wants to cum inside of you so bad, anytime and every time he fucks you. thinking of how sexy you'd look all round with his baby!!

▸ humiliation. just like sanemi, this man has a mouth on him. seeing how your cheeks redden and you stutter anytime he calls you out on being such a whore for him- it's adorable, he just can't help it.

▸ orgasm denial. such a tease with it, too. lets you think he's gonna let you cum this time around, only to pull completely away from your skin as soon as your on that edge. cooing at how you cry at him, apologizing for being so mean, even if he doesn't really mean it.

. *. ⋆KYUOJURO RENGOKU

▸ breeding. best friends think alike, right? pls just make this man a daddy already. he's so desperate for it. rutting inside of you for the third time in a night, all to cum inside your pretty pussy.

▸ cunnilingus. oh, he is such a big pussy eater. sometimes it's just so much with him. large arms wrapping around the thighs that squeeze either side of his head, lapping at your pussy like it's his last meal and he's a man starved.

▸ eye contact. grabbing at your jaw, forcing your gaze to his, instructing you to keep it there. he's eyes are so intense, so fiery. boring into you with every thrust inside- taking in the dilation of your pupils and the flutter of your pretty eyelashes.

▸ overstimulation. most times he doesn't even mean to do it, y'know? you just feel so good, and he's chasing that high over and over again until you're jelly in his arms, feeling pleasure so painfully.

▸ dry humping. his favorite foreplay. the atmosphere thick as you both huddle close, grinding and frotting against each other. anything for friction. until he gets so desperate for your touch that he's ripping your clothes off right then and there.

[chuluoyi]

✎ attraction

- gojo satoru x reader

to think it started with your crush on his best friend...

genre: high school!gojo being a menace, jealous!gojo but he doesn’t realize it? enemies to lovers, fluff, gojo begins pining on you

note: thank you anon who asks for gojo falling in love with a first year! i added some spice though haha

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Back in 2006—

There was this tiny weeny part of Gojo that was like... questioning, how did his best friend Geto Suguru catch your eye, whereas he didn’t? Like, at all?

"I want Geto."

"Hah?" Gojo arched a righteous brow, swiftly turning your way—feeling the stings of irritation gnawing at him. "What?"

You shot him a look. “I said, you suck and I’m lamenting that I’m paired with you instead of Geto for this mission.”

Once upon a time, you did hate him for obvious reasons as other people do. He was obnoxious, boastful and overall grating on your nerves.

Well, actually, “hate” would be too strong of a word, so probably “dislike greatly” it is.

“Ehh, Suguru? With you?” Gojo glanced at you, purposefully scrunching his face into a mocking sneer. “No way. Absolutely not. Incompatible. I won’t give him my blessings.”

“Who are you to grant blessings?” you hissed with a bulging vein of frustration. “And no, it's not what you think! I—” you wanted to kick yourself for stumbling over your words, “—I just respect him in a way an underclassman would!”

Gojo let out a strained laugh.

To him, you were this cute little junior who looked funny when mad. Riling you up was on his daily to-do list, and poking fun at your obvious crush on his best friend was supposed to double the fun, until it made him wonder despite himself... just what exactly did Suguru have that he apparently lacked, leading you to always follow him with your eyes, whereas you spared him with nothing but glares and sharp retorts?

You didn’t exactly hide your feelings. Whenever Geto was nearby or greeted you in the mornings, you'd blush like a tomato. It was silly, because Gojo was sure his best friend’s type wasn’t a girl as skittish as you—surely, it must be someone as vivacious as Inoue Waka.

He knew you were doomed to fail.

"I suggest you go pick up some slack," he teased. "Better if you don't become a dead weight while assisting him in missions, no?"

He knows. Really.

"...do you know that there are only three things I can't stand here?"

"And those are?"

But...

"Your stupid glasses, your Limitless—and you."

He was still irked, regardless.

"Well, poor you, then," he shrugged, shit-eating grin on his face. This time he pushed his luck. "Do you know that you're nowhere nearing Suguru's type?"

Scratch that. You hate him. You turned to him with a reddened face, and it wasn't because you were blushing.

"I'm going by myself!" you declared, seething. "I couldn't care less about what you're about to do—I'm finishing this and going home!"

With that, you you marched towards the haunted house, paying no heed to his taunts behind you.

You felt a wave of embarrassment washing over. Gojo always messed with you and normally you would chalk it up as one of his shits—but this time, you didn't appreciate how he touched on that sore spot of your not-so-hidden infatuation with Geto. So what if you weren't his ideal type? He didn't have to be mean!

But soon you regretted leaving his side, as a monstrous cursed spirit quickly chased you out.

Gojo was still outside, bidding his time. He merely huffed when he heard you screaming in fear.

He was ready with a jab. "Well, well... Look who's running back into my arms—"

But his smirk quickly fell when he saw the cursed entity was apparently way beyond your level. You ran out—no, by some idiotic impulse of survival, you actually leapt out of the two-story window and almost fell flat on your face and broke your bones, but before then, he sprung to action, catching you, wrapping one arm on your waist.

You were grateful you that you weren't doomed—until you felt yourself dangling mid air in his hold... like a cat.

"Gojo!" you wailed. "I'm going to fa—!"

Oh, but Gojo was convinced that this was his moment to shine. He directed a smirk your way as the bright blue mass in his hand totally caught your attention. With one swift flick of his hand, he muttered the mantra for Blue, and exorcised the cursed spirit in one go.

He marveled at his own show of power—and hoping that somehow, you would too. Then, he placed his hand under your knees, repositioning you in a princess-carry, and the way your gentle curves nestled snugly in his arms sparked some intriguing thoughts in him.

Your wide, crystal-clear eyes gazed at him with such wonder. Red tinted your cheeks. The corners of his mouth curved into a winning smile.

It was at that exact moment when he realized it: he wants you. This funny girl who often made his day, he wanted you to look at his way too.

...but goddamnit, you like Suguru.

"Well, not that scary now with me around, isn’t it?" he boldly announced, and your amazed expression immediately turned into a cute frown.

"Thanks," you blurted, still with rosy cheeks and looked frazzled, but then you realized the state you were in his arms. "But—put me down!"

"Ehhh, I will if your feet can reach the ground!"

Who cares if you like Suguru? As he burst into snickers and you screamed at his face, Gojo Satoru decided then and there—in that spring of 2006—that he would make it his mission to win you over. To make you his.

And years later, not only he achieved that but also so much more—a ring on your finger serving as the testament to his success.

Epilogue

"Yaga-sensei," Geto sighed wearily. "Can I be paired with Shoko, please?"

"Geto-san, wait, please—" you frantically tried to explain, glaring at Gojo in the process. "I'll do my best so—"

"You're such a bother, even Suguru doesn't want to go on missions with you," the white-haired clown remarked with an evil grin. "Right, Suguru?"

"No, Satoru—"

"Well, but if it's me, I'll gladly mentor and teach you though~"

"I don't want you! You're so insufferably annoying!"

"Yaga-sensei, can I please get paired with someone else—"

[reallyromealone]

Title: little god

Fandom: jjk

Characters: Gojo, Geto

Fic type: fluff

Pairings: -/-

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, dragon reader, child reader, fluff, god reader

Notes: uwuwuwuwu

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

(Name) Stretched his bones as he sunbathed in a garden he found, the dragon stretched out and his scales glimmered in the sunlight.

The lawn was soft, fancy grass that felt wonderful against his scales as he huffed sleepily, eyes blinking lazily and without a worry in the world as the ribbons in his little horns swished in the gentle breeze, the gold accessories on his head and horns jingling slightly with the wind chimes in the engawa a few feet away.

Dragons couldn't be seen by normal humans so (name) often made his way into gardens or sleeping on couches or chairs... Basically the little mythical reptile did as he pleased as he scratched his little whiskered face and sneezed a little and a flower bloomed where the golden dust hit, a single orchid grew up.

"Well you aren't a cursed spirit" a voice broke out and (name) looked up to see blue eyes and immediately the small cat sized dragon jumped up startled and ran behind a decorative rock "I take it you're the little one leaving tiny paw prints in my sand garden" the man was crouched as he smiled at the dragon who glared and grumbled at him, a little baby hiss.

Who was this?

Why was he seeing him?

(Name) Was only a toddler in human years, running on instinct as he got ready for a fight.

But the human seemed unphased.

Gojo cooed at the little guy, he knew there was something living in his garden but he never thought it would be a fortune god or a baby one at that "where's your mama little one" he asked sweetly and sat down as he grabbed the pieces of chicken he grabbed when he saw the little one lounging "want some chicken?" That got the little guys attention as he chirped, the sound of little chimes could be heard as he carefully walked towards the good smelling food and before Gojo could even blink the dragon took it and ran back behind the tree.

(Name) Sniffed the chicken he took and deemed it safe and began munching on the chicken, glancing at the human periodically to make sure he didn't take it.

"You're the one whose been sneaking around eating birds, probably the one eating my koi" he teased as he watched the dragon eat the chicken happily before coming back for more, batting his snoot against his hand "I got plenty of chicken and even some salmon inside if you want some" he offered the dragon who let himself be lifted up as he ate more chicken from the white haired human, very food driven indeed.

Gojo noticed a gold charm on the dragons forehead, (name), inscribed on it and the man hummed as they got more food for the little guy.

He loved watching (name), he was absolutely hilarious and precious!

(Name) Liked to do his own little thing, mainly fight his own shadow and chase bugs but he did his own thing regardless.

He had to show Geto!

"So you found a dragon..." Geto said as they watched (name) eat his new balanced diet, little face messy "you know he won't be a dragon fully forever right?" He said and Gojo shrugged "I'm his dad now, currently he eats raw chicken hearts and salmon but when he's bigger he can have tempura and rice" he said simply as (name) blinked up at them before trotting off "he does his own thing" Gojo said simply and Geto worried for Gojos... Could it even be seen as parenting?

He definitely had to keep an eye on this situation.

The following days went daily smooth as Gojo took time off to be with his new son, (name) having morning zoomies in the yard before breakfast and a nap, the sorcerer doing some work from home as the dragon slept in his lap, imprinting hard on him.

But the dragon would often wonder off, vanishing for periods of time before eventually returning and Gojo decided to follow him.

(Name) Was weirdly interested in under Gojos bed, the man had no clue why though until he looked under to find things from his jewelry to coins to soft blankets, all on top of the fluffy dog bed Gojo got his little buddy "there's my Rolex..." Gojo grumbled but let the little guy keep it, clearly he was very happy with it all.

Something Gojo noticed as well was he would have random coins in his pockets in pants, better hair days and he was feeling better and it wasn't until he saw his little... Son? Yeah son! Drop coins in his shoes and pockets and golden dust sprinkled on his mask after the dragon finished cuddling it "do you do have a bit of magic in ya" gojo lifted the dragon up whose hind legs curled up and his long tail curled between his legs, little head tilt before sneezing gold dust on his face.

"Gross"

Bling!

Setting (name) down he checked his phone to see that meeting he was planning on being late too was cancelled "why thank you, son" Gojo pet the dragons little head and chuckled when he aggressively kicked his leg and leaned in to the touch.

Gojo did his research, Jujutsu sorcerer's kept documentation on God's and such, wasn't the first time they saw one and won't be the last and realized he would need to be ready for when he stopped being a little dragon full time and quickly grabbed his laptop and ordered away.

Gojo set up a bedroom for his adoptive dragon son, a toddler bed and toys that the little one played with kind of.

The room had everything he could need and even got pull-ups in case the kid couldn't figure out toilets.

Should he get a nanny?

Maybe he should look into that... And a tutor... His kid was not cut for public education.

It wasn't until four months in that he got woken to a tiny little hand, eyes snapping open to see a tiny face with big (color) eyes and scales that framed bits of his cheeks and forehead "papa, breakfast!" He said impatiently and gojo realized that this random child was the dragon he took in, the tiny tail swishing at the boy wore traditional clothes lined with gold "yeah? And what does my son want today?" He teased as he got up and lifted the boy into his arms, blessed energy radiating off him like an eclipse "hot dog!"

"A hot dog for breakfast? Thats not breakfast!" It was weird how easy he fell into the role of dad, making his son eggs and hot dogs as compromise and the boy devoured it happily.

Gojo was thankful he had the forethought to get the boy more clothes though the tot leaned towards more traditional robes than anything and Gojo assumed it had something to do with being a god.

"Fancy clothes for my fancy son" he said as he had the seamstress he typically went to put together a bunch of robes for the boy, his little one was so cute!

Geto came by frequently, (name) plenty used to him as the boy ate fancy chicken nuggets as his tail swished lazily "why is he dressed like royalty?"

"Why do you dress like a monk?"

"Touche"

"You know you can't hide him from the elders forever right?" Geto worried for the boy, the elders were assholes who would exploit the fact that the little one was the literal god of fortune, having done some research to find that (name) goes through "rebirth" periods, once he gets too old he just reverses his age and starts new, he wondered if he retained his memories....

"I would love for them to try" Gojo said coldly, a smile on his face as he pat his sons head fondly, the boy grinning at his dad and offering him some of his half eaten nugget "papas full, little man" he rejected kindly and (name) resumed eating as the adults spoke.

(Name) Was just happy to have more meat, Gojo always having the best food especially for the literal only other Gojo family member (if you try to tell him (name) wasn't you would be turned to a fine mist by the blue eyed man) who looked at him like he hung the stars and painted the moon.

"Oh? What's up?" Gojo asked and Geto looked confused as (name) suddenly handed him a few coins "he just has those" Gojo shrugged and Geto raised an eyebrow "he keeps using his magic to summon coins, he keeps giving them to the fridge though..." (Name) Practically worshipped the fridge, the tiny god hugging it often and mumbling "chicken..." Happily as Gojo took pictures of the little goober.

"Though he has granted a wish" Gojo said softly as Geto looked shocked, looking back at the tot who was full and sleepy, a soggy nugget in his hand "what did he grant?" He asked curiously and Gojo sipped his tea "he saw something on tv, I was watching the news and there was a report on a missing dog and the man looked distressed" setting his cup down and taking off his glasses as he continued '(name) touched the tv and poof, the dog was running to his owner" Geto still couldn't grasp the fact that he was sitting before a literal god, the god of fortune no less.

A being that could completely alter reality but all he wanted was chicken and getting to chase birds.

Eventually Geto left and Gojo brought his son for his afternoon nap, a stuffed lucky cat in his arms as he snoozed.

It was weird for Gojo to sit and think about the fact he was a dad... To a fucking dragon god!

But it was worth it because (name) was odd yes, but he looked at Gojo like he was his dad.

It's why he used his standing to put together papers so (name) would be a Gojo legally.

Now he just had to make sure the Zenin clan didn't go near him.

[youryanderedaddy]

Yandere! Eden

tw: nsfw, female reader, non - con, degradation, hinted captivity, obsessive behavior, size difference

You fight him, goddamit, that's the worst part - you always try to fight him with all you've got, with sharp nails and smooth teeth, with your hands, your knees, with the closest pillow (since he rarely lets you touch anything with a proper egde). You give it your best - your hardest, you scratch and bite like a wild animal, getting your tears and saliva everywhere and yet... all your efforts only seem to amuse him.

"This is all you've got, princess?" He taunts as he holds you down with one hand (albeit, probably bigger than your head) while the other strips you bare with ease. "C'mon, you should make it more difficult for me. It's no fun when you just lay there and take it." He chuckles as you squirm in his hold - and the sound fills you with suffocating cold dread. Like a particularly nasty, sticky cough it sinks to your chest, making it hard to breathe through the fury and shame.

You get even more feral, thrashing and kicking without order or direction - desperate to show him that you're not a meek victim, that you are not going down without a fight. But it's all pointless - you barely move an inch as he roughly spreads your naked legs, pushing you to your back with eyes full of malice - induced lust and drunken need for violence.

"It's like you're not even trying." His hot breath tickles your ear, forcing your baby hairs to stand prickly. The overwhelming smell of strong cologne, unmistakenly masculine, makes you even more lightheaded and scared with unevitable anticipation. "It's like you actually want me." He whispers darkly, gripping your waist painfully with both hands. "Is that so, baby? You want the big bad wolf to mount you down and take you?" He bites your neck playfully, but the ache is deep and throbbing within you. "Violate you?"

You shake your head rapidly, holding back scorching hot tears. No, no, you try to scream, but the lump in your throat is so heavy it prevents any sound from coming out.

"I know, baby, I know." Eden caresses your wet cheeks almost tenderly - if not for the scratches his claws leave behind on your soft skin. "I'm just messin' with you." The hunter rasps, fingers entangled deep into your locks. "I know you don't want any of this. Not my touch-" He lets go of your hair. "or my lips-" He kisses along your jawline, hungrily lapping at the salty tear stains. "And certainly not my big, throbbing cock up your tight little pussy." He gloats, lining up his shaft with your entrance. "But you are still going to take it, won't you?"

He stares at you intently, as if waiting for you to say something.

"Won't you, princess?" The man slaps you, voice a tad more irritated now. You quickly nod, terrified to your shaking bones - and only then does he smile again, sweetly. "Of course you will." He goes back to stroking your hair as he starts to slowly force his length into your unwilling, quivering quim.

"Because that's just how the world works, no? Pathetic little sluts get fucked by big, strong men like me. They get fucked over and over again until their poor little brains turn to mush. Don't they?" He chuckles with clear condescension as he finally begins to thrust int you - making sure his cock is all the way in before he pulls out and brutally shoves it again. Sick glee fills his scarred face as he watches your womb strain to accommodate the pulsing force brushing against your lower belly from the inside. This time you nod weakly before he has a reason to strike you.

"Such a good girl, accepting her place underneath me." Eden groans, growing flushed as he feels your walls squeeze against his intrusive thrusts. "You know this is all you're good for anyways. Just a warm hole and a pretty face for me to ruin." He gropes your breasts crudely, pinching your nipples with his fingertips. "Just look at you... what a wet little mess you are. It's like your body is begging for it - even if those treacherous lips deny the truth. You should be thanking me. If I wasn't claiming this sweet-" He makes a point to slam right into your most sensitive spot, making your toes curl despite your protests. "tight heat of yours, you'd be dead meat already. Just a chew toy for the wolves."

You make an uncomprehensible sound as the pain dulls and gives way to damp, humiliating pleasure. You bite your tongue to muffle the moans, but this only stirs him further - taking it as a challenge to make you sing for him. He keeps fucking into you, dragging you up and down like a feather.

"You're lucky I love you so much." The hunter sighs, voice softening to a whisper. "You're lucky I like it when you cry for me." He reaches to wipe away a falling tear. "So you better thank me, princess." He grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. Burning hot flames greet you, but all you feel is ice.

"Thank you, Eden."

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Suuuuuup, I've been binging on your writing lately and I completely adore it (sometimes I go back through my likes to re read some of your stuff 💖💖)

So I'm dropping a scenario here.

Reader and Jason Todd have been roommates for quite some time (which means this would be a mutual pinning scenario), sometimes reader patches Jason up and orders some takeout for him. Until one night, Jason was too beaten up after a patrol so reader treated his bruises and scratches before helping him ease his back on his bed while reader sat down beside him. Jason begins with his dose of "you shouldn't be doing this" "I'm not a kid" "I can perfectly hand myself" then Jason starts questioning reader why they care so much about him and worry about him.

Until they reach the point where:

Jason: A prick like me? Yeah, sure.

Reader: Even pricks like you need someone who looks after them.

Jason: Careful, I might start thinking you like me or something if you keep saying things like that.

Reader: Maybe I do like you.

Honest Words

Haha, nonnie, do you even need me? You've got a great fic right there. I feel like I never actually write them getting together, so let me try something. ~ 600 words

'Maybe I do like you. Maybe I do like you.' The words play on loop in Jason's head as he stares at them. The silence goes on for too long and he forces himself to choke out a laugh, "You're joking. Not much to like here."

You tilt your head thoughtfully and hum, curious as you finish cleaning up his wounds, "I dunno, Jason, I see plenty to like."

"Like what?" He asks before he can stop himself. He winces a little, less from the stinging of his wounds and more at how interested he sounds in knowing what exactly you like about him.

"Lots of things," You muse, sitting back on the bed, "I like your eyes."

"My eyes?" He prompts, leaning towards you.

You nod, "They're pretty, and clear. Like you want to be seen. I like that you always let me touch your hair," You reach and brush his hair back to prove your point.

He smiles a little, "I don't think that's any reason to, you know," Jason trails off.

"I like that you're good. Even when you think you're not. You try. You try so hard even when the whole world seems like it's against you. You keep trying. You keep helping people."

His breath hitches at the raw honesty in your voice, the determination and truth in your eyes, "You're– you've never been against me."

You nod, and your gaze leaves him as you start to clean up the gauze and bandages from his bed, "and I won't be. Unless you do something crazy."

He laughs, it almost scares him, how easily you've read him. That you made him laugh even when his throat threatens to tighten and his mind threatens to spiral, "Crazier than what I've already done?"

You nod and grin at him, and it sets his world right, "Crazier than that, much crazier, actually."

He grins right back at you, "I'll keep that in mind for the next time I break the law."

You laugh with him and pat his knee, "Get some rest, Jason. You look like you've been through it tonight."

"I thought you liked how I looked?" He drawls, unable to keep from teasing.

"I do," you say happily, voice fond with affection he's not completely sure how to react to. You stand up, "Now, heal up, ok?"

"Wait," he stops you, grabbing your wrist. He doesn't have a plan, doesn't quite know what he's doing, but he wants you to stay.

"Yeah?" You ask, raising an eyebrow.

He sucks in a breath and guides you closer, slotting your body between his thighs. He looks up at you, the person who's become irreplaceable in his life. He carefully sets his palms over your hips.

"Jason," You breathe out, "You don't owe me anything."

"I know," he says, voice soft but firm, "I want this."

You cup his face with both hands, thumbs tracing his cheek bones as you study his eyes, picking apart the truth of his words, "Would you want me to kiss you?"

Jason leans into your touch and nods, he's not sure what this means for the future, for either of you, but you're being honest. You like him. And he likes you.

His heart is in his throat when you lean down to kiss him.

His eyes slid shut as you press your lips to his. He tilts his head up. It's sweet, loving, it's so completely you, and he gets lost in the feeling, chasing your mouth when you pull away.

"Okay?" You ask softly.

"Yeah," he breathes out, "more than okay."

You smile at him and trace the line of his jaw, "Good, now heal up, Jason."

He smiles back at you, voice light and teasing, "What? Don't wanna kiss me again?"

He smiles even wider when you tell him, on the way out his bedroom door, you can do all that and more once he's better.

[jelliedink]

Ancient Vampire Partner as a Service Top Headcanons

Warnings: Pure smut. Mentions of death, blood, violence. No gender specified, but reader do get periods. Implication of abusive relationship. Author's note: I wrote an extensive introduction to this post, but then I realised that was mostly me rambling. So I decided to get straight (and kinda gay) to the point. Shall we? Divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Here's my take on how I think the sexual dynamic between a human and their ancient vampire lover would go:

Your ancient vampire partner knew they had to be gentle and careful with you. Much like us when carrying a newborn puppy, they were aware of how easily your bones could break if they got too excited. Since sex for them was now more of an echo from their human days and not a survival need, they were ok with going without sex for long periods of time, perhaps waiting until you were ready to be turned. For now, they thought it was safer to wait.

You, on the other hand, were very much not ok with this. You were human, your body evolved to make happy chemicals from sex. As if that wasn't enough, the main survival strategy of your partner's species was looking hot as fuck to lure humans, getting their thoughts so clouded by lust that they'd ignore the stone cold touch, the sharp fingernails, the bluish hue of their skin and the sharpness of their teeth. Your whole body went crazy just by looking at them.

They knew you couldn't help it. So, whenever you were needy and in the mood, they didn't mind putting you on their lap, back against their chest, and touch you until you've had enough. They loved being able to make you feel good, whispering on your ear while playing with your body: "What do you want to try today?" "Do you want me to get one of our toys?" "Does it feel good like this?" "Is this intensity enough?"

In the days you desperately needed to feel them inside of you, they ignored their own desire while watching you ride them mesmerised, gently guiding your hips up and down while kissing and caressing whatever part of your beautiful, soft and warm body they could reach. God, how pretty you looked with your eyes out of focus, using their body to get off and scratch that itch.

And when you were too tired they gladly took the lead, paying attention to your every reaction, focusing on how to serve you better: "Hold my shoulders tight so I can reach deeper without hurting you, ok?" "Slow and steady, precious, or you'll be tired before we can have the amount of fun you deserve." "Here, it will feel even better if you touch yourself too."

But they were far from being selfless. The moment you got your period they morphed into a feral and self-serving beast, unable to control themselves any more than a hungry lion would if near a trapped deer. This was one of the very few times they could feed off of you and they were not letting all this food go to waste.

You'd get properly cushioned in a comfortable position, a heating pad on your lower belly, your legs on their shoulders and they would lick you clean. Prepare to be there for a while, no amount of begging would make them let you get up until they're finished. Of course you always tried to. Every time this happened, they'd first try to convince you with love and praises, but their tone got increasingly more authoritative and mean until you couldn't recognise your lover anymore. "My baby, you taste so good." "How can you be so good to me, my little angel?" "Can't you hold on just a bit more? Please? For me?" "Oh, you're being tortured with too many orgasms? You poor thing, that sounds so terrible." "Pretty, you're not getting up. Don't think that you have a choice just because I'm trying to be nice." "Maybe if I show you how painful I can make it you'll realise how good you're having it stop being such a whiny ungrateful brat. You want this, my baby? You want me to hurt you? So don't make me hurt you."

In the end they'd kiss your whole weak body and your puffed teary face while begging for your forgiveness. They'd say they don't deserve you, they are a monster, they just don't know how to control themselves when you smell like this and they were so hungry. You'd be pampered: a hot bath, body massage, your favourite food, that thing you've been eyeing for so long but was way too out of your budget.

They'd do just about anything you ask for. Anything but promise not to do it again.

[luimagines]

Hiii ! I saw that request were open so I jumped ! I hope they are still open as I saw in the rule that it was writed closed so I'm not sure. If they are closed, then sorry 😅

Could you maybe write about Twilight and Wild (separately) with their married partner during the travel with the chain ? Like they meet them in an Hyrule bc they were transported too, the chain reached to the fact they are married and any domestic kind of ideas about them traveling together! Or anything that come to you haha

Thank you very much ! I hope you're doing good! Bye bye ❤

Oh sure thing! Some Twilight and Wild domesticity, coming right up!! (Let's pretend that it's a word. XD)

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

Twilight

"What are you doing here?!" Twilight had scooped you up at once, hugging you with enough force to lift you off of your feet.

His actions, while tender were loving, were nothing compared to the sheer terror in his voice as he spoke. Twilight didn't hesitate to instantly check you over. He didn't want to see you injured. He didn't want to see so much a single scratch.

"I thought you were going to stay home!!"

"I did!" You defend yourself. "...And then the portal you mentioned appeared in the middle of the village. I offered to go find you before any one of the children would become too curious and go in first."

"Crazy, impulsive, reckless-"

"Stop calling yourself names." You poke his chest. "I didn't come unprepared. I wasn't sure if I would actually run into you or not. But I couldn't risk it with the children beginning to poke their noses around it."

"Did the portal close behind you?" Twilight run his hands over your hair, soothing down all the nonexistent frizz that you would have collected on your journey otherwise.

You nod. "It's just me."

"Ordana and her small mercies." He sighs, bringing in for a kiss.

The others whistle and cheer, getting the idea of just who you are to their resident Rancher.

You pull back with a lovestruck smile on your face. "I've missed you too."

He smiles and wraps his arms around once more, keeping his hug firm but not crushing like before. "I'm terrified that you're here, you know that right?"

"I know." You whisper. "I'm sorry. I know I promised to not give you any reason to worry."

"You did." Twilight stresses, poking the side you're sensitive on. He's trying to subtly tickle you and it is not fair. "You owe me. You broke your promise."

You squirm and smack his chest playfully. "And what would you have me do? Make dinner tonight?"

Twilight freezes a bit as he processes your words. You internally grin. You won this round. He nods and kisses your cheek. "I would love that. I've missed your food."

"It's been a while since I've cooked over a fire though." You admit. "It might not taste the same."

"I'll have anything." Twilight smirks. "I'm a good eater and you know it."

"We're still here you know!!" Four shouts from behind you both. "We can see all of this!"

Twilight gives him a playful glare and the bird for good measure.

You laugh. "Are you going to introduce me to the friends you told me about?"

"I don't know." Twilight pouts, hugging you tighter and he tucks his head against you. "I don't think I want to anymore."

"We're not that bad!"

Twilight gives them another rude gesture.

It makes all of you laugh.

"I like them already." You pat your husband on the head.

He groans. "I was afraid you'd say that."

Wild

To say that Wild was the more chaotic one of the group was frankly, a solid statement.

Not that the others are known for their stoicism and stable tendencies. It's just that Wild tends to be a freer spirit than many bargain for.

That until, you came along.

They had found in the middle of a dungeon. Which promptly made Wild lose his mind.

He fussed over as if you had broken every bone in your body. He was suddenly glued to your hip and eyeing all his brothers as if they themselves were threats to you.

In the confusion and chaos, it is revealed (through a not so quiet private conversation) that you both were married to one another, and that you had no idea how you got there. You had gone about your usual routine before slipping to the well beside your house and finding yourself here.

Once you all had exited the dungeon it was revealed that were very much not home.

Wild was suddenly more subdued. More alert. More... something the others couldn't quite put their finger on. He was sneaking off less, doing less crazy stunts, paying more attention to the plans.

It doesn't really make sense why until you were braiding his hair after a warm meal.

"You know, Link-" You say, ignoring the way eight other faces turn to look at you. You're talking to your husband right now. "I see that you want to go exploring sometimes. You can afford to spend a little time away from me. I won't wander off."

Wild snorts. "Are you trying to push me away?"

"Nonsense. You know I love being with you." Your fingers card through his hair gently. Wild has his eyes closed in bliss. "I'm just saying you can afford to still do as you please. I know that you're dying to see the world again."

"No." He says, surprising everyone. "I'm good."

"Link-"

"I'm your husband." He stresses. "I have to take care of you. This is not a burden for me. Besides, you're far prettier than some flat rock on a mountain. I'd much rather look at you."

You smack his head playfully. "What am I going to do with you? You don't need to protect my every waking moment."

"I'm surprised he's this calm with you." Warrior puts his cheek into his palm. "Half the time he's trying to blow stuff off and give us all aneurisms."

You laugh while Wild gives him a glare. "Well excuse me, I don't need to give my marriage mate any more reason to worry. Besides, the last thing I'd want is for them to join me."

You laugh harder. "He's right. I will."

"Wait- I thought he would have been the crazy one in the relationship."

"I would have thought that too." Wild sighs. "But turns out, I have to be their impulse control since they wouldn't think twice about joining me in any shenanigans."

You pretend to pout. "You never let me in on the fun."

"You could get hurt!"

"So mean."

[kakashixhatakesxwhore]

Hi! I don’t know if your requests are open but if they are, could you please write headcanons about how Iruka, Itachi and Kakashi would react to seeing a dream about the S/O dying? Thank you!

thank you for the ask, i'm totally game!!

How they would react to a dream about their S/O dying

They being Iruka (🥹), Kakashi (😩), and Itachi (🥴) - with wildcard picks of Shikamaru (😋) and Sai (🤭) (GN!Reader)

Warnings: talk of death, swearing, lil drinky-poo mention for Kakashi n cigaroot mention for Shikamaru, tell me if this sucks💋

Masterlist💿

Iruka

Iruka dreams about you, on a mission far too dangerous, getting locked into a skirmish and then meeting a gorey demise right in front of him

Wakes up covered in sweat, chilled to the bone, to your concerned voice and gentle hand

He pulls you close in a huff, breathing heavily and quickly - Iruka just can't seem to get enough air until he's got you, on his lap, with his arms wrapped around you and his face buried in your collarbone

You laugh lightly, and scratch his back in slow circles until he's regained enough composure to tell you about the dream

Iruka would be mortified to find out he had been yelling out for you in his sleep, and that being what initially woke you, but he'd be very comforted by your presence and consciousness

He would have some issue getting back to sleep, so one of you would suggest a tea and an early start if the hour was great enough

But, if it was still around midnight, you would flip him to his stomach and perch on his butt, then scratch/rub his back while whispering sweet assurances in his ear for however long he needed to relax again

Terrified of having to live without you, hasn't got a clue how he would be able to see through that kind of fog - he's just grateful for it to have been a figment of his imagination

Kakashi

Kakashi's dream isn't only of you dying, it's of you dying by his own hand

He wakes up with a jolt, turning to find you're safely in bed next to him - still, he holds a finger under your nose to check your breathing

Feeling a burning tingle coursing through him, Kakashi has to get out of bed, he can't just forget about the dream so easily

Without disturbing you, Kakashi gets out of the bedroom entirely and goes to the living room, pours a stiff drink and sits at your bay window while watching the dark sky move

You come out to the living room soon, before he's even done his drink, and you ask if he's coming back to bed

He finishes his drink and tucks you under his arm, steering you both back to the bedroom, feeling poorly about waking you up but feeling quite cared about

Kakashi can't bring himself to tell you about the dream, even if you ask - he didn't want to deal with it the first time, let alone rehash it

Eventually falls back asleep, holding you as closely as humanly possible, drifting off while pressing a million small kisses to your face and head

Itachi

A recurring theme in all of Itachi's dreams is death - familial, friend, himself, but he hates the ones where you die the most

Sometimes, you're killed by another, bested in a fight and demolished in front of Itachi - he can hardly take those seriously, you're far too powerful in the waking world

Other times, it's Itachi, himself, who takes your life - another impossibility, he would never, not even if you had something he coveted

It's the dreams of you and he, sitting together, wasting away with decay and disease - he can't stand those, because they're all too possible and real

He'd wake up with a start, and turn to you, running his fingers through your hair, and over the rosy apples of your cheeks, scouring your body for signs of vitality

You'd wake with a laugh, his fingers tickling your ribs, and Itachi would just hum for you to go back to sleep

Just as you curl up to his chest, he starts having a coughing fit (his lungs sound like sparkling cardboard with your ear right up to his chest) and has to sit up while you rub his back and hit him between the shoulder blades with the heel of your hand

He has to get up to spit out the phlegm and blood he coughed up, but comes right back with a heavy sigh

You promise him you'll stay by his side, through sickness and in health

Though riddled with anguish, Itachi just tells you he loves you, and thanks you for putting up with him, before crawling back into the bed

You two cozy up nicely and you listen as his soft, controlled breathing turns into a light, stuttered wheeze before falling back asleep yourself

Shikamaru

This poor motherfucker can't sleep a full night without at least one sour dream and it's such a drag

He wakes up swearing and shouting when the sour dreams are about you - his dreams never go on long enough for you to die, just for Shikamaru to see you in the grasp of the enemy, scared out of your mind, knowing what's to come

If you're not woken up by his ruckus, he'll surely wake you up to get a good look at you, to get your fearful expression out of his head

You're cranky, having been woken up from a deep slumber, and Shikamaru apologises insincerely before recounting his dream in vivid detail

Of course, this causes a change of tune, but Shikamaru teases you, telling you to apologise for being such a hater after he had such a concerning dream about you

You do, begrudgingly, then ask him to cuddle you again

Shikamaru lights a cigarette and tells you he might not go back to sleep, but leans back into his pillow and puts his arm around you, allowing you to rest on his chest

Despite his claim, Shikamaru almost immediatly falls back asleep, leaving you to slip his cigarette from his fingers, steal a drag, then ash it for him in the tray on his bedside table

He's gripping you so tight, you think he might think you'll disappear if he doesn't

You just sink into his being, taking comfort in his warmth and the rhythm of his heartbeat

Sai

His dreams are quite strange - they never make sense out of the context of Sai's unconscious mind, and even then

They're all very metaphorical and symbolic, and Sai could spend his whole life trying to decipher some of them, instead he just fills a notebook with whatever he can remember

All he can particularly remember from any of his dreams about your death is just a heartwrenching feeling that took over his soul

It would suffocate him, deafen him, blind him

When he wakes up next to you, peaceful and alive, he curses his mind and wishes he could remember the context of the feeling

Sai's just glad it was only a dream, only a manufactured feeling from his subconscious to torture him

He curls up to you, letting that disgusting feeling melt away as you press into him

All Sai can think about as he drifts off to face another vivid, otherworldly dream is how lucky he is to have someone who causes such visceral emotion within him

[mangostarjam]

playing nice — kaiju no. 8, hoshina soshiro x f!reader, established... something, reader wears a skirt, shameless smut, face sitting, oral sex (f!receiving), doggy style, creampie, 1.7k words

"Sit."

Your thighs tremble as you hover above him. Hoshina Soshiro smooths his gloved hands over your bare legs. "What's gotten into you?"

"C'mon, darlin', just sit," he murmurs. You can barely see his easy smirk as you hitch your skirt up higher, exposing your damp panties with a sigh. "I'll swear it'll be nice."

"That's not the problem," you swallow. Red eyes peer up into yours and you shudder as he grips your thighs. The rough fabric of his gloves scratch against your skin. "Didn't you just come back from a mission?"

"Want me to take my gloves off?" Soshiro asks. You nod shakily and he grins, maintaining eye contact as he carefully, slowly removes his gloves with his teeth. Sharp canines flash in the warm afternoon light with each tug of fabric. "I didn't get dirty, y'know. I was busy directin' the troops."

"Doesn't matter," you say. "If you're gonna drag me in while I was having a perfectly lovely walk, you should be nicer about it."

Soshiro chuckles, tossing his gloves aside. His hands immediately go back to your thighs, pressing into the soft flesh and wrenching them slightly more apart. Your knees slip on his jacket that he's so helpfully placed beneath you, but his grip is steady and you barely even wobble thanks to his hold. It's hazy — your blood feels hot, thrumming in your veins, heat rushing to your cheeks and chest.

"I'm not a strong man," he says. Purple strands splay out along the hard wooden floor of the storage room he's dragged you into. "I saw ya in this cute lil skirt and just about lost my mind."

"I've noticed," you say drily. Soshiro's hands inch higher, teasing the edge of your panties, brushing your hip bones beneath the fabric. "You barely even kissed me, you know."

"But look at this," he mutters. Rough fingers dig into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and you yelp as he drags your legs further apart. His breaths are warm against the soaked cotton as you sink closer and you can't help clenching in anticipation. "Ya still got all wet for me. So pretty."

You moan as he digs in, as he tugs your panties aside with a finger and drags his tongue through your soaked folds. Your legs weaken against your will, dropping you further onto his face as he groans and bumps your aching clit with his nose. Oh, god.

"Fuck me," you bite out, hips jerking forward.

Soshiro nips your thigh and you hiss, fingers clenching around your skirt. He chuckles into your pussy, red eyes gleaming a moment before he drags you forward, pressing more of your weight onto his face. Pleasure spikes as he groans, tongue digging in sloppily, each swipe feeding the growing ache in your center. Spit and your juices drip down his chin but he doesn't care — nothing else matters but your choked off whines.

Fuck, you sound so hot.

Soshiro wants more. He wants you aching and desperate, he wants you riding his face until you cum with that cute little cry that never fails to make his blood run hotter. Sometimes, if he works hard enough, you lose yourself and say his name.

Sometimes he makes you cry.

Not this time, though — you're clearly enjoying yourself, moaning as if you've forgotten this storage room isn't that far off the main walkways, but Soshiro doesn't mind. Everyone knows the Vice Captain's got eyes on you, and no matter how much you protest, the fact remains that he's the only one who gets to see you like this.

"H-Hoshina," you suck in a heaving breath, hips rolling against the flat of his tongue. He moans into your pussy and watches your lashes flutter at the feeling. "I'm — 'm getting close."

There's sweat beading along his temples and sliding into his hair. Soshiro moans again as your taste floods his tongue. Fuck, you look so pretty sitting on his face like this, with one hand keeping your skirt out of the way while you grope your chest with the other. His own hips twitch as you pinch your nipple through your shirt, the peaked nub poking through the fabric as you squeeze mercilessly.

Soshiro keeps his tongue stiff, bumping against your clit with every desperate grind of your hips. You hiss when he slides a finger into your tight, wet heat, prodding your insides until he nudges that spot that sets you on fire.

"Fuck — fuck, H-Hoshina, 'm gonna cum —!"

Heat lights up your veins as he sucks on your clit, digging his finger into that spongy spot inside you, his other hand firm on your hip as he forces you to grind on his face. God, you're so — he's so —

Soshiro moans and he looks so dazed, hazy eyes drinking in your every move. You're the only one who sees him like this — the powerful Vice Captain of the Third Division, reduced to a sweaty fucked out mess, just from eating you out. The thought makes you whimper, the ache in your core intensifying.

You whine loudly when he pulls back a little, the loss of suction terrifying as you spiral closer. Your free hand drops from your breast to his hair, tangling in the damp purple strands and tugging harshly. He grunts.

"Cum for me," Soshiro rasps out, sliding another finger into you. "Cum all over my fuckin' face."

He sucks your clit between his lips again, and it's — you're —

Shattering, splintering into fractures of light —

"Fuck, Soshiro — nghh —"

Soshiro doesn't let up, fingers digging in as you squeeze them in a vice grip, warmth gushing down his chin as he flattens his tongue and dips in to lick up every last drop.

He's so fucking hard right now it hurts, but he keeps licking your soft folds, his own hips twitching as he tries to find some relief from the fabric of his pants. You tug on his hair again and a whine slips out his throat, but you're smiling, breathless and glowing and so fucking pretty.

"Soshiro, c'mon, please —"

His teeth snag your panties and you giggle as he drags them off your legs. You wobble into a standing position and Soshiro wipes his fingers clean on your panties before tucking them into his back pocket, scrambling onto his knees and shoving his hair out of his face.

You drop down to kiss him, moaning at the taste of yourself as he touches you — hands gripping your hips and gliding up to grope your tits. Your fingers drag down his chest and fumble with his belt buckle as he laughs into the kiss.

"Want you inside," you breathe. "Want you to fill me up, Soshiro."

He groans and kisses you hard, hips bucking into your touch as you finally get his pants undone. Your hand is soft and warm as you grip his cock, squeezing the tip and smearing precum along the shaft. "Hands and knees, darlin' — 'm not gonna last."

You scramble into position on top of his jacket and flip your skirt up, exposing your bare ass and peeking over your shoulder as your blush deepens. "Please, Soshiro."

He lines himself up with a hiss as your juices coat the tip of his cock. You squirm at the feeling, nudging your hips back until the head slips in. Both of you moan — your breaths shuddering at the stretch, his chest seizing as your tight, wet heat sucks him in.

You feel — like heaven, like hell — he slides home, a rough noise punching out of his throat. Fucking — Soshiro pulls back and carefully pushes in, trying not to cum as your ass jiggles with the movement.

You whine and clench around him, and — he snaps.

Rough, desperate strokes, hips slamming into your welcoming heat. Soshiro nearly loses his mind when you push back against him, meeting him with every thrust. He holds onto your hips, hard enough to bruise.

Fucking — hell —

He leans forward and you sob at the change in angle, nearly collapsing onto your elbows as he hits that spot that makes you gush. Soshiro brushes his lips along the back of your neck, reaches around to fumble clumsily at your clit.

"So-Soshiro," you moan and god, you sound wrecked.

You do collapse forward as you cum with a cry, your spine arching beautifully. Soshiro lasts two more short, desperate strokes as you squeeze him tight, hips twitching as he unloads thick, hot streaks of cum deep into your pussy.

He grunts, teeth clamping down on your shoulder, white hot fire racing through his veins as his mind goes blank.

You moan weakly at the feeling, pussy fluttering around him. "You bit me," you gasp out breathlessly.

Soshiro presses a kiss to the mark in silent apology, but he's winded. "You're too cute."

The storage room is filled with your synced breathing as the two of you get yourselves under control. Soshiro nuzzles into your neck, lips skimming along smooth skin as he nudges your sweat soaked hair aside. He keeps his hands firm on your hips, holding you close.

You make a soft sound when he finally pulls out, rolling onto your back and immediately squeezing your legs together. Soshiro wipes off his cock with your ruined panties and tucks himself back into his pants, raising an eyebrow when you frown at him bashfully.

"I need those," you mumble.

"Ain't we goin' back to your room anyway?"

Your brow furrows. "Who says?"

"You're not gonna make it very far without your panties," Soshiro points out, crawling over you and kissing the tip of your nose. You wrinkle it cutely. "I'm off duty. Let's hang out."

You tip your chin up to kiss him properly, sweet and slow and languid. Soshiro's heart aches. "Fine," you murmur, "but only because I'm sleepy now."

Soshiro will take whatever he can get. He helps you stand, snickering when you wobble and dig your nails into his arm in retaliation. You don't seem to notice how much you're leaning into him as he bundles his dirty jacket under his other arm. "Didja want dinner?"

"Mm, no," you say. "Your cum is going to drip out if we don't hurry up."

"Alright, darlin'," he says. "Hey, that was pretty nice, right?"

The shimmery afternoon light lends a haze to the grounds as the two of you walk towards your building. Soshiro glances at you — you're glowing and just so pretty. He shoots you a lopsided smirk when you roll your eyes at him.

"Yes, it was nice."

Soshiro's grin softens and he presses a kiss to your temple. "Don't worry. I'll show ya how nice I can be."

[lovifie]

Manipulative Gaz

Dark themes | Smut - 1972 words (Back to Masterlist)

CW: Psychological manipulation, toxic Gaz

Everyone has a limit, and Gaz is not an exception.

He is still made of meat and bones, and emotions can be tamed but not ignored forever.

Working in the military takes a toll on everybody, both physically and emotionally. And survivor guilt is the worst of them all.

Gaz is back from his last mission, but many of his colleagues won't. Ever again.

Too many casualties.

Too many lives lost.

Too many injured.

And he is fine.

Not even a scratch he could pick at to feel the pain he deserves.

He shouldn't be walking home so freely, dozens of families are about to find out they will never be complete again.

And he is walking home to you, happy to welcome him back as if he was a hero, dinner warm on the table and you talking to him about your day.

As if he would care about how your colleague invited you to a company dinner in a couple of days. People died today, he couldn't care less.

But it seems you cannot get the memo.

“Can you shut the fuck up for a fucking second? Shit! I have been out for months, I just want some fucking quiet time and you keep fucking going on and on about you. How can you be so selfish?! Fuck! Just shut up, for fuck sake!” He says, standing up from the table and dropping his half-eaten dinner on the sink before walking upstairs to the bathroom to shower.

He regrets it the moment the words leave his lips, the hurt look on your face as if he had just hit you. 

It had happened before, the pressure of his work gets too much, but he keeps it in, not being able to complain to anyone, until it overfills and in the end you are the one that takes the fall.

He hates himself for it, you are literary the best thing he has, his sweet girl, always willing to take him in, more ways than another, always willing to listen to him, always patient, always kind.

And this is how he repays you, with shouts, sex and apologies. That's the cycle.

He'll get out of the shower and you'll be lying on the sofa, not wanting to share the bed with him, he'll pull you apart and back together on said sofa, and once you are satisfied and pliant he'll take you to bed to sleep on his arms. 

Until it happens again. 

He gets out of the shower, towel around his hips, and goes down to the living room. But you aren't there, his brows furrow; maybe you are picking the blanket from the room. 

So he goes upstairs again, smiling when the room's light is on, but once he walks in, his smile quickly drops when he sees you. 

No. No. No. No.

His stomach sinks when he sees the suitcase open on top of the bed, clothes being thrown carelessly inside by you.

He can see the tears in your eyes, but you don't look sad, you look angry. You have never been angry at him, he can't wait to feel it.

“Hey, hey, hey, what are you doing?” He asks stepping closer, closing the suitcase so you can’t put any more clothes in. 

You huff, looking at him with hate and tears in your eyes as you try to move his hand away from the suitcase. “I'm leaving, Kyle” 

No, no, no, you can’t leave, he needs you, how can you leave him? What will he do without you?

“Why? Love, please, stop, talk to me, please?” He begs, making you throw the t-shirt on your hand to the floor.

“Talk to you?!” You shout at him. “Maybe I should talk to you the way you talk to me, Kyle! Then maybe you would get an idea of how much it hurts!”

He deserves it, he knows he does, but you have never spoken this loudly to him before, and it stirs up something inside him, something disgusting that shouldn’t get stirred up, something he should be ashamed of.. It makes him wonder if he can make you moan as loud, scream his name. 

“I know, love. I'm sorry, I really am. You know that, right? You know that I love you to bits?” He asks, manipulation at his best. But you don't fall for it, you are far too smart to be blinded by his hurt expression. He tries to cup your face, if he can touch you he knows he's got you; but so do you, and you quickly move his hands away from your face.

“If you loved me you wouldn't treat me the way you do, Kyle.” You argue, clever girl you are.

“How can I not love you, dear?” He asks, body moving closer to you. Your hand rests on the middle of his naked chest, keeping him away. It's the back of your hand that touches him, almost as if your palm was too good to touch him. 

Your touch is cold, both literally and figuratively and that makes him start to panic. What if you actually leave? What if he can't fix this before is too late? What if it is too late? 

He needs you, he needs the control he has over you. Everything in his life constantly feels out of control, his superiors barking orders at him, enemies playing with him, and comrades dying on the battlefield without him being able to do anything about it. He needs to feel he is in control of something, even if that something is a someone and even if that someone is you.

He still pushes closer, the heat from his body pooling into the coldness of your touch. He resists the urge to smile satisfied with how your body betrays you. Kyle does love you, even if it is in an unfair, distorted and macabre way. And he knows you love him, in a genuine, comforting and undeserving way. 

His hands manage to get to your face, pushing his face forward to kiss your cheek. Baby steps.

“C’mon, love. I'm sorry, please. I won't do it again, I promise. I'll work on it, I promise I never intended to hurt you. I'm sorry, it's the job, I promise. I love you, darling. I really do.” He says, as he drops kisses on your face, lowering to your jaw and the moment he reaches your neck, he smiles, hidden from your eyes, knowing he is keeping you once more. 

Shouts, sex and apologies. That's the cycle.

“Kyle��” You protest, your hand still on his chest and some fight still in you, but he can work it out of you. 

“I'm sorry, dear. I'll treat you better, I promise. As good as you deserve, I promise.” He has you against his chest now, and he feels your hand slowly turning on his chest; your palm much warmer against his skin. 

He sucks on your neck making you whimper and he needs every bit of self-restraint not to laugh at you, not to laugh at how easy it was. He shouldn't have gotten nervous, he’s got you eating out of his hand.

The part of his brain that is still human, that tells him that you are still human starts to talk to his dismay. He knows it! He perfectly knows that he is a monster for how he treats you, that you should be with someone a hundred times better, such a sweet girl stuck together with such a horrible man.

But one of the many traits that make him such a horrible man is how egoistic he is, so he will keep you, even if you don't want to. He'll keep pushing you away and locking the doors so you can't run. Tomorrow he'll burn the suitcase, he is not letting you get this far ever again. 

A glimmer of guilt sits at the bottom of his stomach, a useless feeling. It only means he needs to get inside of you soon, fill himself with the love he so little deserves and fill yourself with empty lies of eternal love.

He grips your thighs, urging you to jump on his hips. You resist for a second too long and he slaps your asscheek making you jump with a whimper.

“I'm gonna make you feel good, love. I'm sorry. I'll make it worth it, I promise.” He says, still biting your neck. The towel around his hips falls at some point, not that he cares; it would get in the way anyway. Just as much as your clothes are, he doesn't bother to let you back on the floor to take them off. He simply grabs the material and rips it on your crotch leaving your cunt exposed. 

He is still standing, he doesn't want you to be able to rely on any support, he wants you to feel that if you don't grab him you'll fall, he wants you to need him just as much as he needs you. He slips his hand behind you, getting a finger inside of you making you whimper as you hide your face on his neck; clinging onto him and he loves it. 

This is how he wants you, desperate for him. Just like he is for you. At his disposal, just for him.

He can feel the wetness dripping down his fingers, he knows he should add more fingers before sinking you on his dick, but he wants to feel you stretch around his dick, moulding yourself just for him, shaping your insides only for him.

You bite his shoulder when he does and he smiles, loving it, he needs it. He needs the pain you inflict on him when he is like this, the bites on his shoulders, the scratches on his back, the kicks on his lower back, all of it. He deserves, he deserves much more. You could sink a knife into his shoulder, cut him to his hip dragging the blade and he would still feel you need to do more.

He is so horrible to you, he knows he hurts you, and he wishes you could hurt him back, let him know what is like. But you never do, because you are too good to hurt the man you love and it only makes him want you to hurt him more. 

He grabs your hips hard, making you bounce on his dick, the room filling with your moans and the sound of skin slapping on skin. There are no more thoughts inside his head, already forgetting the faces of those men who died today, already forgetting their names. This is why he needs you, it would consume him alive if it wasn't for you. He needs you.

You cling to him, moaning his name, you mind forgetting his harsh words already only being able to focus on the way his dick is hitting so deep inside of you. 

He makes sure to go round after round, his seed spilling out of you making him grunt. He should get you pregnant, stuck with him for real that way, forever.

It's only when you can no longer talk that he gets in the bed with you, hugging you tightly, too afraid you'll think about leaving again. 

It's usually at this point he can finally relax, go to sleep and forget about the nightmares his days have been.

But a new nightmare arises when he says, “I love you” and you answer “I know”.

Tomorrow, he is burning your suitcase and he is tying you to the bed. Enough playing around with him, he is here, and you don't need to go anywhere. 

Shouts, sex and apologies. That's the cycle.

And that will remain the same.

Whether you want it or not.

[superblysubpar]

best friend!steve harrington x you

3,025 words

warnings: this is a follow up to the one shot "Sincerely, Yours", it's not necessary to read that first, but I think you'll enjoy this one a heck of a lot more if you do | this contains direct dialogue from the movie Risky Business, which I don't own | alcohol mentions | wearing Steve's clothing, but size isn't mentioned | smut (oral, reader performing) - 18+ as always

a blurb for the "Trick or Treat, Freak?" event - don't forget to vote for tomorrow at the bottom of the fic!

A/N: Thank you to everyone sending requests in and for interacting with the first blurb! I'm just doing this for fun, setting a goal and aiming to reach it, but it's so much more fun when people get excited with me! I had such a fantastic time writing this, and there's some little nods to what trick and freak would have been in here, so I hope you enjoy!

As each cube dropped in the glass, the sharp and ringing clink only made you more aware of how fast your heart was racing.

Whiskey sloshed onto the counter as your hand shook from the pour and you swore under your breath and searched for a rag in the low light.

It’s not like you had anything to be nervous about, not like you were attempting to treat your best friend turned boyfriend to something you hadn’t yet given him.

Because you were taking it slow…

Kind of.

Steve told you over and over again that he didn’t need it reciprocated, that he liked making sure you felt good. He liked kissing you till both of your lips were red and your throats desperate for water and lipstick was smeared across his freckles and moles you couldn’t keep track of counting and your underwear was somehow in his front pocket yet again and the mixtape had been over for who knows how long…

And all of that was fun, more than fun, but you’d be lying if you didn’t admit you wanted more. Wanted to make him feel half as good as he’d made you feel, if that was even possible. Steve had thoroughly proved that the build up was just as good, if not better than the main event, but you couldn’t help it if every time your best friend walked in the room all you could think about was jumping his bones.

You’d almost done it, a few weeks ago in the back row of a theater in The Hawk. Your sweet, timid, and seemingly innocent kiss during the opening credits had turned to a hot and more than a little filthy make out session quickly. Steve had practically covered your entire chest in hickeys and you’d somehow ended up straddling his thigh and the thought of slipping to the ground and unzipping his obviously too tight Levi’s was intriguing, until Steve gasped a little too loud when you palmed him over his boxers, under said jeans, and then he flinched, forehead knocking yours, knee sending sticky coke all over the two of you as a flashlight lit you both up and a hissed voice told you to get out.

And then, shortly after that, you’d come even closer, in his bathroom. He’d done something incredibly stupid, but endearingly sweet, standing up for you in front of some assholes. Though his intentions were admirable, Steve had ended up with a bruise along his jaw, a split lip, and a couple of sore spots across his ribs and stomach. You’d patched him up carefully and quietly, scolding him and not really meaning it as he sat on the counter, shirtless, and pliant under your tender touches. Then you’d kissed his jaw and he said it made it feel so much better, could you do it again? And he’d squeezed your waist and smiled that stupid smile that had your legs turning to jelly. So you kissed the corner of his mouth, and let your trail of kissing brush every scratch and bruise you could find, even ones from when you were kids. But when you reached the dark denim resting against his hips, he lifted your head and kissed you, whispered against your lips a simple thank you, honey.

So now, now you weren’t messing around.

Your thumb swiped over the cool metal top of the can of coke and popped the tab, right on schedule as his front door started to creak open.

Steve’s whistle came to a halt as he entered his house, lights off, which wasn’t abnormal, but all the flickering tea light candles definitely were.

“Honey, are you-“

His eyes widened as music started, and you slide out into the foyer, not as fast, but absolutely more graceful and sexier than Tom Cruise, a fact to which you’d probably argue nobody could be hotter than Tom Cruise except maybe Steve himself. The mere thought of you saying this made his body warmer than it already was.

Your heartbeat was louder than the music as you leaned against the door frame and adjusted the corner of Steve’s ray bans you had covering your eyes, begging the butterflies in your stomach to get a fucking grip.

“Hey handsome.”

Steve swallowed, unsure of where to look. Unsure of what to do. What to say. He was fairly certain his tongue had taken over his entire mouth and he’d never be able to speak again except for something dumb like only the word “hot”.

Maybe a “So” in there too.

You had on his socks, bunched up around your ankles.

You had a drinking glass in your hand, a red lipstick stain on the rim.

You had on one of his dress shirts, slightly unbuttoned and revealing something that was red and lacy and really fucking hot.

You were Risky Businessing him.

Which, he guesses, is kind of fair, after all of the The Breakfast Clubbing he’d done to you.

Your eyebrows raised above his glasses, he assumed because you were waiting for his response so he cleared his throat, suddenly desperate for that drink your fingers were curled around.

“He-hey.”

Christ, his voice cracked.

You didn’t seem to mind, your lips quirked up on one end, adopting his signature cocky smirk.

Steve took a step forward, then another, and when he was almost to you, you matched each of his steps with one backwards. Steve’s eyes narrowed, his lips twitched in a fight for a smile.

“Angel,” he whispered, tilting his head, “What are you doing?”

Your foot reached the bottom stair, and you stepped up as you slid his glasses on to the top of your head and matched his volume, which you didn’t really mind, since you weren’t sure your nerves would let you speak louder anyways.

“You know Steve,” you grabbed at his hand and pulled him up the stairs right behind you, not missing the way his fingers curled into yours eagerly, “ ‘There’s one thing I’ve learned, in all my years…’ ”

Steve’s smile won now, following you up the stairs slowly, hanging on every word he already knew was coming.

“ ‘Sometimes’,” you cleared your throat, making it up to the top of the staircase, only stopping when you were just in front of the closed door to his room. “ ‘You gotta say what the fuck, make your move.’ ”

The door to his room swung open to reveal even more candles and Steve’s brain took a second to catch up with what he was seeing and hearing as you lead him into his room, as you glanced over your shoulder with a timid smile.

He looked up at you, as you led him to sit on the edge of his bed, hand gently pushing at his shoulder before you gave him the drink in your hand.

Steve could see now that you were nervous, the way your finger was scratching at the skin around your thumbnail, the way your thighs rubbed together and your toes wiggled in his socks as your shoulders hunched.

He quickly set the glass down on the ground and grabbed for your hands, voice soothing, “Hey, what’s going on, we don’t have-“

“Steve,” you interrupted, squeezing his fingers, “Let me say this, please?”

His head nodded, eyebrows scrunched together under a few pieces of hair that refused to stay put as his thumb swiped over the back of your knuckles gently.

Steve’s mind raced through thousands of terrible things you were about to tell him, not a fan of the tone you just had and how nervous you were and how you were clearly trying to distract him from whatever-

“I want to give you a blow job.”

His ears aren’t working anymore, everything sounding a little fuzzy and suddenly his mouth is so much more dry and his hands are sweating in yours that squeezed his fingers again as you blinked at him.

Blinked pretty pretty eyes above sexy pouting red lips in his fucking clothes and-

He reached for the drink he set down and started taking too large of gulps, the burning amber liquid doing nothing to soothe his throat.

“I know maybe you haven’t wanted me to because maybe you think I’ll be so terrible at it, but I have-“

“What?” he gasped, mouth falling open as you crossed your arms over your chest and took a step away from him. His stomach twisted from the thought that he’s made you feel like this.

Steve’s hands reached for you, curling around your hips before pulling you towards him slowly, speaking softly as he did, “Honey, I nearly just came in my jeans hearing you say you want to do that. That’s not the problem at all.”

Your hands found a new home on his shoulders, as you let Steve pull you between his spread legs. You tried not to focus on how good his hands running down and back up your thighs felt, or how his gaze kept drifting to where his hands catch the hem of his shirt as you asked, “But there is a problem?”

He shook his head, “No, no, problem is a bad word. I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to do that. ‘Cause maybe those other guys assumed, or made you or-“

Your hand cupped his jaw. “I promise, I want to give you one, I’m not doing it for you, I’m doing it for me.”

Steve’s brain buzzed, fizzled, then sparked, never to work properly again, he’s sure of it.

The butterflies in your stomach flap their wings wildly, shouting at you to do it already as Steve’s mouth hung open at your words and he let slip this sound that you’ve never heard from him before, intent on never forgetting it as long as you live.

Your thumb swiped over his lip, before both hands were pulling off his shirt and then you were saying, “Lay back for me, baby.”

Steve nodded as you guided him back on the bed, crawling over his body until his head was resting on a pillow and his hands were gripping your waist as you hovered over him.

The candles flickered around you, sending soft, warm gold and orange across his features, highlighting his cupid’s bow and the freckles next to his eyes. Your hands pressed to the mattress on either side of his head as your lips barely brushed his while your hips lowered, rolled against the already hard length beneath his jeans.

Steve’s fingers toyed with red lace as he gasped into your mouth when it retreated so quickly, head lifting from the pillow to chase your kiss. But your lips evaded him, skimming across his cheek to his jaw, leaving their mark on his neck as you spoke.

“Guess I shouldn’t give you one until you’re dizzy though, yeah? It’s only fair…”

His eyelashes fluttered closed as your teeth scraped on his neck while your lower half rolled against him, making his hips thrust up in search of more friction.

“Fu-fuck. I’m dizzy. I’m so dizzy,” he gasped, fingers searching under his button down for more of your skin to grab at.

You hummed into his chest, pressed another kiss there and then lifted your head to ask, “Sufficiently, so?”

He whined, loud, and scratchy and he didn’t even care if he sounded pathetic.

Steve looked like you’d never seen him. You’d witnessed a pretty dazed look before, after kissing each other in a way that left little time for things like air, or when he’d looked up at you after that first night in the back seat of his car. But this was different, so different.

His eyelids were hooded, the green and gold you’d normally get to stare into blown out by dark pupils and more of a match to the now drained whiskey in the low light. His cheeks were flushed pink, just like his lips that he’d just licked. Brown hair all wild, already ruffled and messed up from the few moments against his pillows. His chest was heaving, like his lungs didn’t know how to take in air and expel it normally anymore, muscles underneath tan skin taut and flexing every time you adjusted your hips.

Your heartbeat was in your ears as your fingers started to slip over the silver buckle on his belt and your voice strained to sound confident.

“Your ‘I’m about to get a blow job’ face is real cute, Harrington.”

The sound of his zipper dragging open was loud, and painfully slow.

Steve’s hands gripped the bedding next to him, his neck extended, his swallow prominent and on display as you pushed at his jeans and he gasped out a quiet, “Not sexy?”

You laughed, breath warm against his stomach, just above the band of his boxers. Your nose traced along the elastic while your hand palmed him through the fabric.

“Oh my god,” Steve groaned, strained and through clenched teeth.

Figuring you’d teased him long enough, you pulled at his boxers, helping him carefully kick off the garments stuck around his ankles. Your hands rested on his thighs as you took a deep breath and risked a glance back up at him.

Steve was propped up on his elbows, swallowing as he watched you lower yourself, hands flexing against the sheets as your tongue traced over a vein, following it up his length. He took deep breaths, trying to focus on anything other than the fact that he was about to come in two seconds.

Your hand wrapped around him, while your mouth brushed over his tip, fighting a smile when his hips flexed under you.

“Relax, Steve,” you whispered against the head of him, looking up under your lashes to find him biting his lip raw as you continued, “Let me make you feel good, please?”

He nodded, frantic and suddenly stopping as his mouth fell open when yours sunk lower on him. Your tongue rested flat against him, spit traveling down his length the further you went.

Steve barely fit in your mouth, jaw straining and your hand helping as your head bobbed up and down. Confidence growing by the second with each restrained thrust of his hips, desperate to meet your mouth, each glance up at him flushed and gripping the sheets, each babbled word and phrase from his lips meeting your ears and only making you go faster.

“Holy…oh my…honey, you’re-“

He couldn’t even form a coherent thought, lost in the sight of him disappearing into your mouth, the red lipstick staining his skin, the way your lips popped off of the tip, spit keeping you connected. His stomach was burning, chest on fire when you blinked at him and smiled shyly after a few minutes.

“Good?”

Steve nodded, his hand left the mattress without thinking and curled around your jaw, pulling you up, desperate to kiss you and make your lipstick even more a mess, but you pulled away.

“Steve, I’m not done,” you kissed his palm, “Gotta taste you, baby.”

He sucked in a breath and shook his head no, eyes squeezed shut as he gasped out, “Oh my god, you can’t say stuff like-“

“You say stuff like that all the time!” Your protest a laugh, making his dick twitch against his stomach, which makes your mouth water.

“But-“ his feeble attempt at another protest lost the minute your mouth was back on him, too warm and too perfect. You were perfect. Perfect like chocolate and popcorn together, perfect like a red swimsuit in his pool, perfect like his best fucking friend in the whole world sharing his milkshake and stealing his fries and laughing at something dumb he said. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve this, to deserve you. Steve’s hands twitch at his sides, desperate to reach out and touch you, to hold the back of your head and never let you go, but knowing he can’t do that.

At least, not yet.

You’re lost in the way he feels against your tongue, the way he hits the back of your throat, how your underwear is just as wet as you’ve made him, desperate to come with him, your fingers slide between your legs when Steve whimpers, “You’re so…so good, oh my god-“

His gasp has you looking up to find Steve’s mouth hung open and his stare on where your fingers press circles into your clit, cheeks warm and stomach more so under his gaze.

Steve swallows, and nods to your fingers, “Faster, go faster baby.”

Your eyes practically roll back, doing as he says, mouth slipping over him deeper and at a quicker pace your fingers try to match.

Steve’s hand cups your jaw, thumb pressed to the corner of your mouth where you meet him, smearing whatever lipstick’s left as his stomach clenches and his hips thrust up.

“Honey, ohmygod, I’m gonna…where-“

You only double down on your efforts, taking him even deeper and Steve spills over your tongue as he says your name in a way you’ll never forget.

Like it has only the best letters. Like it only belongs coming out of his mouth.

Like it was his.

You gush over your own fingers as you swallow around him and he winces when he slips from between your lips.

Both of you are breathing hard, needing a minute, but Steve’s never been patient. He grabs at you, pulling you up his body until he’s rolling you, his name a laugh and protest all in one as he kisses down your body and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

He only stops to kiss you, finally, holding your lips for a little longer than he needs to between his own and whispers against them, “That’s enough out of you, I think.”

Your laugh curls around him like your fingers in the hair behind his ear.

“Yeah? Have some fancy trick to get me-“

His mouth was on before you could even finish the sentence, words cut off in a gasp of his name.

Like it had only the best letters, like it was yours.

I'm actually so deeply excited for all three of these options, I can't wait to see the results! (And also, I mean, how could I not do we'll call it love steve for sunset? Is anyone shocked?)

*voting will close at 10am CST tomorrow, 10/3

[mytheoristavenue]

DS Stalker!Gyutaro Shabana x Courtesan!Reader 🍋 - Bloodlust

Summary: Gyutaro has stalked you for months. He was so captivated by your ethereal beauty he couldn't keep away. Though he never expected to discover how ruthless and blood thirsty you could be.

Warnings: NSFW, knife play, bloodplay, brief mention of assault by a third party, violence inflicted onto a third party, sado-masochism, fluffy ending, forbidden love, yandere x yandere

Word Count: 3.7K

Gytaro who was a bit shy at first, always lurking out your window, watching you change and work. He was just keeping an eye on your clients, at least that's what he told himself. He knew from protecting Daki how some men could be once they indulged in the drink, he was just looking out for you! You'd never even know he was there, or at least, that's how he intended it, but when he witnessed a customer become a bit too rough with you for his comfort, his body reacted before his brain did.

The gentleman had paid for a dance, the cheapest service you offered, but soon his hands were on your hips, traveling up your ribs. "That'll cost you extra, darling..." You gently reminded the man, guiding his hands off you with a light touch. But he persisted and after a second warning, you stepped away. "I'd love to indulge you but-" Before you could even request additional payment, you were thrown to the floor, pinned against the decorative rug, caged in the man's drunken form. You let out a terrified yelp, knowing all too well what would come next. "P-Please sir, you can have what you want, I beg of you," You pled with glossy, constricted pupils. "Y-You don't have to take me by force!"

Gyutaro's body, upon hearing a cry for help, moved on instinct as he crashed through the door to your balcony. In moments he'd crossed the room, hovering over you with a heinous stare that seemed to bore right through you. Slapping a heavy, grey palm onto the client's head, the intruder sunk his fingers into his hair before lifting him off the floor by it. "I believe the lady warned you to step back. Hasn't your mother ever told you not to put your filthy paws on things that don't belong to you?" His voice was hoarse and venomous, filled with an air of contempt that rattled your bones.

You scrambled back as soon as you saw the chance to, clearing the room until your back hit the opposite wall. While the client was obviously stunned, you could immediately recognize the much greater danger you now faced. Being a courtesan was hard, always being at the mercy of harsh men, but you knew that there were much more terrifying monsters just outside the house walls. And this stranger, your savior, was one such devil. You instantly recognized the demonic features he possessed that your gentleman caller missed through his inebriated haze. "I paid for the whore, I'm entitled to use her how I please!" The drunkard argued, wincing at the scalping grip on his hair.

Gyutaro's fist twisted at the word 'whore', his snarl even more apparent. He never did care for such language, given how many times he had to hear it hurled at his sister. "Care to change your wording, friend?" He asked, venom dripping from his voice as he raised a sickle to his throat. When the man doubled down, his glare hardened in disdain. He could smell the alcohol on the man's breath, which disgusted him further. "What a pathetic waste of flesh. Alcohol taints everything it touches."

The smallest whimper from you reminded the demon why he'd acted in the first place. His head instantly snapped backward over his shoulder and the fear in your eyes had him dropping his prey. He immediately darted over and crouched at your side, looking you over. He checked your skin for bruising or scratches with the confidence of a medical professional. It was almost as if he were experienced in caring for vulnerable young women, especially ones in distress. "Are you alright?" His cracked voice asks, so much softer now. You nod shakily, studying his face and body with wide eyes.

"W-Who are you...?" You asked breathlessly, despite already knowing to some extent.

"I'm not gonna hurt you..." He answered oddly, backing away a bit before standing and offering you a corpse pale hand. You took it delicately, letting him pull you up. "P-Please don't be afraid." Even though his sudden entrance, appearance, and proclivity for violence had petrified you moments ago, the timidness that shrouded him brought you comfort and wore down your guard.

"I'm not afraid of you," You gave him a sweet smile that made him queasy. He eyed you cautiously as you stepped over to the man crumpled on the floor. " Now then," Gyutaro's eyes widened, and his jaw fell slack when you spoke to the client.

"I believe you owe me more money." He watched your hands roam the client's unconscious body, seemingly searching for something. He could tell when you found it by how your eyes caught the lantern light, sparkling with the wonder of a child who has just received their first spending coin. You snatched the sachel of coins from the man's sleeve, tucking it into yours. "Considering you only paid for a dance but still tried to force your miserable needle prick onto me anyway." Your tone was saccharine, but your words were deadly. They sent a shiver down the demon's spine as he watched your leg rear back and slam between the client's legs.

He didn't stop you from giving the man a few more sharp kicks before smiling at him over your shoulder. "Gyutaro, my dear?" He stiffened at the sweet allure of your affection, nodding as a sign that he was listening. "Would you please dispose of this thing for me?" A wicked grin cracked across his face at your request. You both passed each other as he approached the client and you made your way to a cabinet to store your 'earnings'. He did as you asked, ecstatic to realize how cruel you could be while he did, slaying the man where he lay.

"I'm sorry for the mess, I'll take care of it." He said sheepishly, crouched over the body, his hands spattered with red.

"You are good at cleaning messes, aren't you?" You suddenly ask, lounging on the bed, watching him work. "You strike me as the kind of man who lives off dirty work."

"T-That's not far from the truth." He admitted, pausing at your assumption. It unnerved him deeply how well you seemed to guess aspects of him when he hadn't even introduced himself.

"I never caught your name..." You mused, admiring how his skin stained with blood, carelessly smeared across his gaunt form.

"Gyutaro..." He answered nervously, still facing away, head dipped low as he quietly devoured his victim. He worried that he might scare you again if he ate too loudly, but something in the back of his mind reassured him otherwise.

"Well, Gyutaro..." You cooed, your voice oh so inviting. "Tonight is your lucky night. A generous donor has paid in advance for my services, all for you, anything your wicked little heart could desire." You were vile, letting out a deceptively sweet snicker as your new 'client' licked the blood of the 'generous donor' off his fingertips.

His golden eyes snapped wide, still facing away as he slowly turned back to look at you. "W-Whatever my heart desires...?" He repeated in disbelief, carnivorous teeth red and glistening. "Y-You'd lay with someone as repulsive as me?"

"Repulsive? Who told you that?" You ask softly, eyes never hinting betrayal from that he could see. "The only repulsive thing here is half eaten by now. The way I see it, you're quite the opposite." You began to pick apart his appearance, finding something good to say about his every aspect. "You know, a lot of courtesans paint their face white to look this pale, you should be proud. And this hair, such a lovely shade of green. I bet it's so pretty when it's all combed out."

Try as he might to resist you, when you beckoned him forth, he found himself drawling closer as if he had no mind of his own. You had to be a fellow demon with some sort of brainwashing blood art, he dedicated. But that wasn't true at all. You were just a human with demonic tastes. Finally, when he sat between your knees, you cradled his head in your hands, staring down lovingly. You wetted the pad of your thumb against your tongue before running it over the large, oddly shaped birthmark that splinted his face. Your eyes softened when your thumb came back clean. "Just as I thought..." You mused so sweetly.

"W-What is it?" He asked, terrified you might finally decide to reject him. He melted into your lap at your answer, obviously starving for praise and feminine attention.

"These marks don't come off, do they?" He shook his head shamefully, but you reassured him before he could self-deprecate. "They're so lovely, they look like dark clouds. I'd die for an obi with that pattern." That comment tore him, his fate was sealed.

-----

"A-Ahh, fuck-" You whimpered, muffled by the wad of silk bedsheet in your jaw. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you screamed with delight, laying on your tummy as he took you from behind, so generously doing all the heavy lifting. "G-Gyutaro!"

"Louder," He demanded, breath ragged as can be, gaunt hips bullying you into submission- not like he needed to, not with how you'd thrown yourself at him."Tell me how much you want it, how bad it hurts."

"H-Hurts so bad, my love!" You gasped, cock drunk and addicted to the terrible bruising on your cervix. "P-Please don't ever stop!"

"Nothing could drag me away," He rasped, nails digging into your doughy hips, admiring the way the warm blood on his hands painted your skin so beautifully. You'd begged him not to wipe his hands after he was done with the client, and he was so glad he obeyed, intoxicated by the visage of bloody handprints all over your back and ass. It was so warm it made you ache, shuddering as he drew a crimson line down your oh so sensitive spine. "Wanna spend eternity like this."

You gasped at the sudden change in sensation, feeling what resembled cold steel press into your nape. "Stay forever," you begged, leading into the touch of the foreign object. "Never leave me, Gyutaro."

"Wish I could," He hissed, dragging his shaft out of your already sore core, only to rut back into it painfully slowly. "More than anything, I wish I could." One hand held you firmly by the hip, the other gripped the handle of a macabre sickle, made from sinew and flesh, but lacking any softness or warmth of those materials. The blade of it pressed teasingly into the supple back of your neck, slicing a few hairs in half. Ignoring your lusty pleas for his blade, Gyutaro refrained from actually causing you any harm. He'd hate to see such flawless skin permanently tainted.

"P-Please, my love," You implored, ming numb and seeking out nothing but his presence, and the painful pleasure only he could provide. "Stay by my side, keep me safe and I'll keep you happy!" You reasoned, chasing a dangerous high that would remain out of your reach so long as he refused to slice your skin. "I can keep you fed, and you can take me whenever you choose, in whatever way, just say you'll stay with me!"

Gyutaro's nails splintered against the bony snath of the sickle, your desperate words tearing at his sense of reason. He could be nearly content to hide away in your room for the rest of his days, like a monster in the closet, spending all his time eating unruly customers and fucking you to his heart's content but deep down, he knew it was a pipe dream. He could never abandon his sister, she was his whole reason for living, and nobody, not even you, who seemed to hold genuine love and care for him, could ever change that. Even if he decided that was the life he wanted for himself- that leaving Daki wouldn't bother him, he was still physically bound to her as the sixth Upper Moon.

"F-Fuck, I want to, I swear." He breathed through gritted teeth. "N-Nothing would make me happier," As he lamented to you his desires, his hips began to lose pace and rhythm, snapping into yourself erratically and without reason. He was chasing the same rabbit as you, only with the need to inflict pain rather than feel it.

"G-Gyutaro!" You cried, having long since abandoned your attempts to keep quiet, mouth now free of the silk that covered your futon, drool free to spill where it pleased. Your fellow courtesans of the Kyogoku house paid no mind to your sobs, knowing they had seen a rich man enter your room. If anything, they were jealous of the fun you seemed to be having. "Please, please, please..." You chanted dumbly, unable to spit the request off your bitten tongue.

"P-Please what, beauty? Use your words," He grunted, leaning down so close over your blood-stained back that his forehead could almost rest on your shoulder.

"F-Fuck me to death," You wept, tears streaming down your face, finally relieved to feel the blade of his sickle press harder into your throat. The sensation was short-lived, however, as he then drew away entirely.

"Please don't say such things," He pled, wrestling with his own bloodlust. "I-If you don't stop I might-"

"To be slain in the throws of passion by a creature as beautiful as you would be-!" You halted, teetering on the edge of a deadly climax. "Such an honor!" To your surprise and delight, you felt his hand leave your hip, tangling into a fistful of your hair, matting it with blood. His other hand reached your shoulder, pressing the blade of the sickle to your throat. The entire position felt deliciously obscene, even demonic in nature. You felt like a sacrifice and Gyutaro was your merciful god. "A-Ah, thank you!" You gushed as his hips began to move again, bottoming out fully with each thrust.

"I-I warned you, my sweet..." He grumbled, almost sadly. "I-I tried to warn you that I was dangerous but you just," He paused, snapping his emaciated hips against yours, no longer caring for how well you took the blow. "Won't," He paused again, punctuating his words with another harsh roll of the hip. "Fucking," Another one. "Listen..." And another.

You were in trouble now and you knew it, not that you cared. This is what you wanted from the start. This was what you asked for. Now you just had to lie in the bed you'd made, simple as that. "I won't show you any more mercy, it's obvious that you're just trying to make me hurt you. Is that what you want? For me to hurt you?"

You nodded drunkenly, whining in confirmation. "Y-Yes, Gyutaro, please hurt me!"

And then it happened, that sweet sting you'd been so impatiently waiting for. A sting that surely drew the smallest drops of blood across your unmarked throat. The point of the sickle had barely slid across your skin, simply scratching the top layer, but it was enough. You'd spent entirely too long on the edge and this was just the thing to push out off into the abyss.

The prayer you screamed wasn't even intelligible, but Gyutaro understood it perfectly as if it were a secret language that only the two of you knew. He didn't slow as you babbled his name, or what you could attempt of it. His grip on your hair never loosened, and the press of his blade to your lifeline never relented, not until he was satisfied. Even after the climax gave way to overwhelming sensitivity, you never tried to get away from him. You were hellbent on behaving for your favorite 'client'.

"F-Fuck, so good, ahh..." His moans became needier, as he reached the summit, thrusts becoming shallow and breakneck fast, keeping himself buried as deeply in you as possible while still maintaining friction. "Fuck, gonna-!" He warned, both hands releasing their grip as his arms wrapped around your shoulders in a terribly uncomfortable hug. You knew his sickle was out of his reach when it fell beside your hand on the futon with a soft thud. His hips began to falter as he pumped into you, holding you close to his chest, your discomfort in the odd position far from his mind.

You were content with the ache of being stretched backward, knowing he was so close to his end. You reached your hands up, cradling his temples, stroking his hair, and cooing softly to him in broken words. "P-Please, Gyutaro, cum for me," You encouraged, relishing in his sudden need for sweetness. "Please, you deserve it, cum inside, don't waste a single drop. You've earned it, my love."

With a few flexes of your abdominal muscles, you milked him, sending him over the edge almost immediately. "A-Ah, God, fuck!" He whimpered, feeling his seed spill into your warmth as he chanted shallow praises in your ear. "So fuckin' pretty, shit, can't believe you let me cum inside this perfect pussy, oh my God-" You simply fell limp in his arms, exhausted and happy that you were able to provide him any sort of relief from the hard life you were sure he'd had. "Love you, fuck, I love you so much..."

The words caught you off guard, and you wondered if he meant them. It wasn't uncommon for you to hear confessions like this post-orgasm, but none that you'd received ever felt so genuine. You breathed out a weak laugh, shifting in his arms so you both could lay down, you on your tummy again and him ontop of you. Maybe you wanted this one to be real- to mean something. Maybe you felt similarly.

"Will I ever see you again?" You asked, lacing your fingers with his as he threatened to fall asleep on your shoulder.

"Do you...want to?" Gyutaro asked, almost taken aback. "I didn't think you meant all that stuff about me staying..."

"Of course I did, and I still do..." You admitted sleepily, yawning as if to emphisize the point. "Will you?"

The bond that you'd both forged was undeniably strong, but couldn't break the one he shared with Daki. Though it did convince him to divulge more information to you than he probably should have. "I-I can't..."

"Oh," You responded sadly. Disappointment was an understatement. You wanted to feel angry, but you couldn't. Your heart ached for the fact that the one man who had treated you like a human since you began working at the Kyogoku house wasn't even human at all, and even worse, he intended to leave you just like every other man did.

"P-Please hear me out, I beg of you," He stammered, shaking off his drowsiness for the moment. "Promise me you will never speak a word of me or what I'm about to tell you to anyone."

"I promise," You agreed, rolling over as he did the same so that he could look into your eyes, displaying all the conviction he had.

With a deep breath, he explained everything, only leaving out the one man he couldn't name. He was sure that if you were begging him to stay, surely, you could be trusted as a confidant.

"I am not the only demon in this district," He confessed, eyes darting away, as if to avoid potentially seeing your face contort with fear. "M-My sister is also a very powerful one and together, we rank very highly among a sacred group of elite demons known as the Twelve Kizuki." You simply nodded, unable to discern if he was being honest or not. "You are actually very familiar with her, and I'm sorry for that, I'm sure she's been especially unkind to you in the past." You could tell he was stalling revealing the identity of this woman and you laid a reassuring hand on top of his.

"What is her name?" You asked, humoring him and proving that you were listening.

"To me, her name is Ume," He answered almost sadly. "Her current name is Daki, but you know her as Warabihime."

Your content smile immediately dropped and your blood ran cold, recalling all the experiences you'd had with the ruthless woman. "Y-You mean to tell me... your sister is..." You swallowed thickly. "O-Oiran Warabihime?"

Gyutaro nodded hesitantly, understanding your fear. He knew all too well how Daki could be, especially towards other women. "I-I'm sorry, I'll understand if you don't want to see me again. Just please know that I'll ensure she treats you better from now on."

You thought on it for a moment before sighing. More than anything, you wanted to explore the possibility of being with him, no matter the risk. "Does that mean you live in Kyogoku house?" You asked with a brave smile, making his heart skip a bit.

"In a way, yes." He answered with a gulp before continuing. "My entire life is solely dedicated to looking after my sister, to ensure that, I-I... I live inside her." You eyed him cautiously but gave him room to explain. "We share the same rank, body, and bond. Though I'd never leave her for anything, we can't be physically separated for long."

"That is why you cannot stay..." You realized aloud. "I see..."

"Yes," He breathed, relieved that you understood, collecting your hands in his. "Please believe me when I say, my desire to stay with you eternally is only trumped by my oath to protect my sister. If I could possibly have both, I would find a way to in a heartbeat."

You smiled at him, that same overly sweet smile that gave him chills every time you flashed it. "Then we will find a way." You drank in his expression, shocked but so smitten. "I will befriend your sister if it is the last thing I do, I will make myself indispensable to the house. I will ensure that I stay within it's walls if you will do what you can to be with me."

"I-I can try." He accepts, a gentle, never-before-seen smile creeping onto his face. "I-I'll try to convince Daki to favor you above the other girls, and I'll try to visit you as often as I can."

"That, and your love and protection are all I ask for, darling." You cooed, pulling him closer into your chest.

"You have it, beauty," He answered, content in your arms. "I-I do love you, I meant that."

You stiffen for a moment, eyes widen before softening exponentially more. "And I love you."

[hoshigray]

Sit down for this one, alright? How bout a gigolo! Toji, who stumbles upon you? The reader's friends pay for his services to help ease your stress from work, and you begrudgingly have to accept the offer. And when you finally meet him, it's a night that you were not prepared for you, mentally and physically.

A/n: camgirl! reader this, prostitute! reader that; motherfuckers, if you don't slap your favs onto the field right tf now!!?? Gege himself said that Toji is a manwhore for money and women, so you know I'm running with this idea :/ Lol but fr tho, this was a prompt that has been itching me, plus I love making these scenario thingies!! I outta write them for the other JJK men when I have the time (or maybe y'all can send asks *shrugs*). All ik is that this hot dilf bastard would make a fine gigolo, I'd happily be broke ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Cw: gigolo! Toji x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - age difference (reader is at least in their mid/late-20s) - implied that reader isn't a virgin, but does try new things w/ Toji - Daddy kink - fingering (f! receiving) - breast fondling - prone bone + cowgirl/riding positions - scratching (m! receiving) - cervix fucking - pet names (baby, cutie, good girl, mama, princess, sweetheart, sweet thing) - praise - overstimulation - impact play; spanking (1x) - Toji lowkey simping for the cute, shy reader.

Wc: 2.2k

Gioglo! Toji...

...whose been in the field not as long as his hitman occupation, yet it's a side hustle he's good at. Like, extremely good at. His age and rough appearance wouldn't have you guess that he does this sort of thing; however, men and women sigh in heavenly familiarity just from the sheer mention of his name. When you venture deep into the streets, it's no surprise to the average goer that he is [if not one of] the best gigolo in the game. The younger male escorts find it hard to compete with him, but it's pointless going up against a man of his caliber.

...who enjoys the gigs even when going with it for all these years. Money was the only reason he turned to this hustle in the first place, so, surprisingly, he's continued with this for as long as he can. Especially now that he has two kids and is well past his younger prime, he still uses his body on clients who can't get enough of him. And the number of his customers has stayed steadily high (if not increasing by the day) throughout the years.

But who is he to call this lifestyle off? Easy cash all from some good sex? Toji has no complaints about this side hustle.

...who states he has no favorites among his clients. There are the faces he'll remember — his returning loyal customers — and then the faces only there for a quick fuck and never to be seen again. Not that Toji cares about such things at all. As far as he's concerned, he's only in it for the money. So, as long as the cash looks appealing, he doesn't care what he has to do or has to do it with. Besides, you should never mix your personal life with your profession, especially with a heavily explicit and raunchy one such as this. He lived by that motto all those years and will resume doing so. No matter how hard they plea with doe eyes for him to stay longer, he'll just give them what they want; his deep verdant eyes contrasting his raven hair, his titillating smirk on his scarred lips whispering dirty words to their ears, and his muscular body that put them under his spell in the sheets.

Toji swears he has no favorites. So he thought...

...who is a name you weren't familiar with until your friends came to you, and you expressed nothing but sheer horror after they explained. Apparently, as the most stressed and workaholic person in the group, they thought it'd be a good idea to pitch in and schedule you a night with the infamous Toji Fushiguro. You've practically begged them to reconsider, pull back from the deal, bargained, anything! Even so much as calling one of them ("Please, please, please just call this thing off!" "Sorry, Y/n. He already accepted the offer, so we can't get the money back. Plus, you're gonna be in good hands, I promise! I was with him once, and my body was never the same. I saw him the second time and, literally, my puss—" "OKAY, I GET IT, I'M HANGING UP, BYE!!").

Your objections were directed to deaf ears, so to say you were nervous the night of Toji's arrival was far from comprehension. Coming home from work was hard enough throughout the entire week, becoming difficult to stomach day by day when the fateful day came. Because you never had experience with an escort or playboy before — let alone one who's supposedly well-known to your friends and the streets! Blood running cold as you constantly look at the time, your foot thumping on the ground, and your fingers fidgeting as you wait for the stranger listed to take your virginity away. And with the sudden knock on your door, your heart almost lept out from your mouth. Oh, fucking Christ...

...who surveys your entire appearance after you open the door for him. And he takes his time drinking in your pretty figure, your smooth skin, the alluring scent of your floral lotion, and the cami romper that exhibits your shoulders and thighs to his liking. He notes you avert your gaze when his eyes find their way to yours, and he snickers. Already, he knows he'll have fun with this. "Hey, cutie," Toji says, his gruff tone rare to your ears. "Y'r name's Y/n, right? Heard about you from y'r friends, said they wanted me to treat you."

You gulp before replying. "Yes, that's me...Oh! Please come in, Mr. Fushigu—"

"Toji's enough, sweetheart." He corrects you before entering inside, taking his shoes off at the front and entering the living room. "Nice place ya got. Did'ja wanna do this here? Because I was told to take you out somewhere."

You open your mouth to answer, but you meekly retract yourself. Toji notices your quiet display, chewing on your bottom lip while playing with the tied straps of your romper on your shoulder. Damn, so fuckin' cute. He walks up to you and brings a hand to lightly seize your chin with his thumb and forefinger, and you almost want to scream at the older man examining you like some treasure. "Ya nervous?" You give a shy nod. "Aww, y're a cute lil' thing, huh?"

With hot cheeks, you avert your gaze away from him again. Your modesty amused the older man, "Relax, baby. I'm gonna take good care of you, ya hear? If y're feelin' any pain or somethin', be sure to tell me." He has you turn to him again, caressing your cheek with his warm forefinger. Your lips quiver with anxiousness when you give another nod to him. And with that silent confirmation, you've accepted what happens next.

...who enjoys breaking you down as the night goes on. He has you on your bed with your back against his chest, and he does what he can to warm your body up to him. His big hands grope your breasts and tweeze your erect nipples until one slithers down to your drenched panties and forces a finger between your slick-coated folds. Your whimpers seep past your pretty lips, gasps of air exiting your system when the man kisses your neck and sucks on your skin.

"Mmmm, so tight 'round my fingers, mama," his hoarse voice vibrates his chest. You melt while he nibbles on your ear. "Spread them legs wide fr' me." With quivering limbs, you try to do what you're told, and more wails exit your mouth as he pushes his digits to and fro from your leaky chasm.

And the moment he finally has his dick inside you? Oh, Toji relishes the sensation of you around him. Fucking so deep in the prone bone position, he hammers his pelvis to your ass, and his balls smack onto your vulva coated in slick and come. Your moans fuel him to go harder and faster; the sight of you griping the sheets beneath and your ass jolting with every thrust turns him on too much.

"Haaah—Ahhhh!! Toji, oh God," it was your first time ever in this position, and it's so intense and electrifying with how harsh the older man propels himself to you. His cock scraping your most sensitive walls, you had given up concealing your screams long ago. "It's too much for—Mmmph!! 'S too muuuch..."

"Feelin' good there, princess?"

"Nmmph!! Y-Yess," drool starts to pool on the pillow you're resting on, but you're too occupied to feel ashamed of this lewd image you're exhibiting. "Feels so good, so goo—Ohhoooo!!" Your brows trench with eyes sewn shut, and your climax begins to climb quickly. With a choked cry, you come on Toji's dick for the second time that night, tears wetting the pillowcase while your cunt flutters on him as you release.

Regardless, Toji still ruts into you even when you're under a blissful haze, not until he's done with you. "Good girl, cummin' on my dick like that — Nmmph!!" He pulls out of you, spilling his load onto you, covering your asscheeks and lower back.

...who was surprised to see you again after a week, scheduling him with you on another weekend. Not like he had any objections to it, absolutely not. Because when he sees you give him a bashful smile and wave, he can't help but smirk and walk in your direction. "Well, hey, sweet thing." He'd greet and kiss your cheek before wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "Liked how I took care of you last time?"

You'd pull your stare to the ground yet give him a curt nod, the older man only finding your interaction adorable. "Uh-huh..." And Toji wastes no time wrapping an arm around your waist and walking with you to the nearest hotel.

And he's even more perplexed to see you two weekends after that...and the other two after that...Gradually, you've become a frequent client of his. That fact alone is enough to have him drop what he's about to do to have availability for you.

...who'd start to find himself slowly attracted to you the more you see him. It wasn't about the money when it came to you. In fact, no one knows you pay him significantly lower than the others. Can you blame him, though? When a doll like you always offers him to stay the night at your play after sex or treat him to meals sometimes, it's hard for the man to not feel some type of way about you. The two of you are aware that this relationship is founded on sex for the sake of your stress relief. Yet as the days go on, it's difficult for Toji to not fall in love and be enamored with your charming and sweet self.

Nevertheless, he'd be lying if he said the sex wasn't good between you two. Because it's quite the opposite, especially as Toji observes how sexually free you become with his visits. Whether it be you scratching on his back while he drills his dick into you, marking his tanned skin of your nails ("Oh, my God! I'm so sorry about that!" You'd apologize profusely, but he'd counter with a chuckle. "It's fine, cutie. It's not the first time I got scratched up by a kitten."). Or whether you'd allow him to convince you to try other positions — like his favorite, the full nelson.

Or, in times like this, when you'd have more confidence than before and ask if you'd ride him. And with a grin, Toji lies back and watches you bounce on his cock. An erotic image that he'd love to keep in his memory for as long as he can.

"Ohhh...Hmmm—Ahhnnn!!" Your cries as you straddle him in a desperate tempo, taking in his girth inch by inch, are music to his ears. The view of your beautiful, sweaty, hot body hopping on his dick is recorded with lustful forest-green eyes. "Ahhhh!! Feels so good, Toji, so—Ahhhh!!!"

"Not so fast there, sweetheart." Toji smacks your bare ass, prompting you to come down and lay your head on his shoulder. You look to see his eyes peer down to your teary ones."What's my name again?"

"Hmmm, sorry, Daddy," you correct yourself, your cunt twitching on his length when the title slips out. "Pleaseeee, forgive me—Eeeiiii!! Oh, Jesus..."

Toji grabs your butt with his hands, propelling them downward to match the jerk of his hips, and the tip of his length makes contact with your cervix. Choked sobs strain out from your throat as he kisses your temple. "Good girl, that's my fuckin' girl..."

Oh, fucking shit! It's coming. It's coming! "Daddy, please, I'm about to cum...Ohhhh, gonna cum—Mmmph!!" The older man silences you with his lips on yours, and you follow suit by wrapping your arms around his neck to deepen the passionate kiss. The motion of your hips goes erratic with his, your orgasm coming up for the both of you with the increased speed. It's there you two succumb to climaxing, the walls of your slit clasping around his cock while he pumps the last of his essence into you. Groans and whimpers are exchanged between clingy mouths.

A wave of calm soon calms the air and your sweaty frames stick together. He resumes kissing you until your sensitive body has had enough, removing your lips from his teasing teeth. "Thank you, Toji. Thank you..."

Even out of breath, his scarred lip uproots to a smirk. "Y're so fuckin' cute, ya know that, mama?"

...who understands he's breaking his own rule when it's just you. It's never good mixing business with personal life. He was in it for the money from the start, and that mentality has done him well throughout the years. Do whatever the clients ask, take the money, and move on. Can't attach yourself to them. Now, he's found himself going against his motto; enjoying his time with you more than any of the others he's been with, looking forward to seeing you again to enjoy having you to himself. Whenever you aren't around him, it's evident that you will cloud his mind until you text or call.

But as he's stated before: as long as their cash in front of him and both parties get what they want, there's no need to have favorites...However, as long it's just you, he'll always be willing to make an exception.

[ginkgo-phyta]

I'm back again 😅

Hopefully, I'm not the only person with this opinion, but how do you think Spencer would react if his significant other told him that they thought he looked hot with his bulletproof vest on? 👀

omg is this injured spencer request anon?? I NEED TO KNOW im so sorry if it's not tho, whoever you are thank you so much for coming back!! i love you with all my heart you should use a special emoji as like ur own lil signature! :D

okay so i wanted to try blurb(?) format but mmm okay not really cuz just a wall of text was stressing me out but this is def more informal than my other work (look no capital letters!) and because i love you so much i present two scenarios for you :P... i cant fight this feeling anymore guys he rlly is so hot in his vest im becoming my most feral self grrrrr RAH RAH ALRIGHT hope you enjoy, my love!

OKAY SO SPENCER REACTING TO YOU TELING HIM HE'S HOT IN HIS FBI VEST gn! reader, fluff, second scenario a little steamy in tone but nothing explicit just h*rny vibes, no other warnings

if you weren't a profiler: you'd never thought about it before- spencer in his bulletproof vest. sure, you knew that his job required him to go into sticky situations where the prospect of gunfire was imminent and he would have to wear proper equipment, but you never put two nd two together. you never even thought of a kevlar vest as something that could be hot...until you saw a picture of him wearing it.

"what the hell is that." you blurt out, voice serious with hints of concern.

"huh?" spencer's as clueless as ever, a little worried about your reaction. he was just showing you random photos his team members had taken over the years, all printed out for easy viewing courtesy of the ever-so-accommodating penolope garcia. someone had taken a pic of a beautiful lake where the bau had saved yet another victim, the sun dipping below the horizon line of pine trees, painting the sky purple and pink. "um...the sunset?" spencer was confused, "i guess maybe it was kinda a weird time to take a photo, but no one was hurt and we caught the unsub and the sky really did look-"

you cut off his rambling with a wave of your hand, eyes never leaving the photo in front of you, "no, no...what's that." you point to what you were talking about, a figure standing off to the side.

spencer takes a minute, becoming even more bewildered "...me?" in that moment your world changed.

"oh my god... "you whispered in a daze, firmly pulling the picture out of spencer's fingers and into your own, "what...what are you wearing?"

"honey what's wrong? it's just my bulletproof vest. i know it might look a little funny, but it, y'know, keeps me alive..." he scratches the back of his neck. a couple seconds of silence pass, but to spencer it feels excruciatingly long.

"spencer," you look at up at him deadpan "you look so fucking hot." to say your boyfriend was shocked would be an understatement.

he was absolutely blown away by your response, so much so that the way his face contorted looked borderline disgusted. "wha-what?? huh? what?" he clamored, eyes flitting over your face to find any sign you were joking.

"seriously, baby, you look so good. oh, my God!!" you almost shriek, gripping the picture tighter, the widest, dumbest grin pulling up your cheeks as you giggle like a schoolgirl.

spencer smiles at your reaction, still a little perplexed "you really think so?" the notion begins to sink into his bones, making him giddy.

you very enthusiastically nod your head, "are there any more pictures of you like this?" you rip the rest of the photos out of spencer's hands, scouring through them at light speed. out of nowhere, spencer laughs out loud, his nose scrunching in delight.

"i...don't know what to say. i'm flattered you think that," a wonderful blush shimmers over his cheeks, "but no i don't think there are. sadly." he playfully adds.

you stop all movements, slowly turning towards him, suspiciously calm. "well then," you grab your phone and suddenly stand up "looks like i'll just have to ask penelope for some!"

"wait! wait, no!" spencer calls after you as you start speed-walking away, your shirt barely escaping his fingertips. he yells out your name, his serious tone interrupted by a giggle of his own as he begins chasing you, "get back here!" he knows: garcia can never ever find out about this...

if you were a profiler: you had seen spencer don his FBI branded bulletproof vest hundreds of times over the years. although you had pined over him for years and were now finally in a relationship with him, seeing him like that didn't make you feel any type of way really. sure, you thought he looked strong and handsome, but most of the time you were too caught up in the case or situation at hand to focus on how he looked. until now. something had shifted in him in the last few months, not just with his ever-changing haircut, but within the way he held himself; more confident, more sure of himself, even more cocky, if you will. whatever it was, it drew your eyes to him in his tight little vest like a lightbulb draws in moths- instantly and continuously. it all came to a head when you caught the unsub responsible for drowning and resuscitating his victims until they couldn't be brought back to life. spencer dove into the lake with emily to apprehend the killer while you had helped the kid he had hostage reunite with his mother. you smiled at the scene in front of you, the teenager running into his mother's shaking arms, her holding him close in a tight embrace. another good ending, you thought to yourself before turning back to watch your fellow profilers make the arrest. suddenly, you mouth goes dry. there spencer reid stood; soaking wet, clothes sticking to his skin, chest rising and falling as he panted to catch his breath, his hand pushing his wet hair out of his face. and that stupid, goddamn kevlar vest. oh, fuck. the others walked away from the dock to situate everyone and themselves in respected vehicles that sat back on the road a few hundred feet away from where you currently were. as spencer moved to follow behind emily, hands trying to flick the water off of him, your gaze stopped him in his tracks. he stood there, a bit confused as to why you were walking towards him, seemingly entranced, instead of beelining behind everyone else.

he spoke out your name, but you remained silent, stopping just a couple feet away from him. you took him in one more time: the way his shirt became translucent, granting you with peeks of his skin; his sleeves rolled up, showing off his delicious forearms; the way his soaked pants choked his thick thighs. you became woozy with desire. spencer watched as your eyes dragged over his figure, drinking in every inch of his dripping body. "oh, baby..." you voice drawled out as soon as your gaze landed on his bulletproof vest, "you're absolutely soaking wet." spencer's eyebrows shot up his forehead at the suggestive twinkle in your timbre. you approached him further, chest just inches away from his. if he wasn't so intrigued by your reaction, he would have been a bit more cautious of lingering teammates. your hands came up to ghost over his vest, "did i ever tell you how good i think you look in this?" you looked up at him through your lashes.

spencer chuckled, "in the bulletproof vest?" you nodded in response, but spencer still couldn't really believe it. "uh, no, actually, you haven't." his eyes glinted at the way you bit your lip, his hands moving on their own accord to rest on your hips. you could feel droplets of water seep into the material and lick your skin, but you didn't give a rat's ass.

"well, you do." you whisper, hands wrapping around the back of his neck as you pull yourself up to press a kiss to his lips, "really, really good." your mouth moves enticingly with his.

"oh? is that so?" he whispers against your lips, diving back in, his fingers digging in your hips. he graciously kisses you for a moment before it dawns on him that you're both still at work- in an active crime scene, at that. "mmh, mmh!" he vocalizes between kisses as he tries to move his head back a smidge. his eyes peak open just enough to see if anyone else was around. your lips are addicting, rendering him unable to fully tell you to stop, unable to fully pull away himself. he's relieved when he spots no one. still, he know this is far from appropriate. spencer's hands move up your body to wrap around your wrists behind him, pulling them away from him and the same time he pulled away from you, "okay, okay!" he breathes out with a chuckle, "i believe you now" he tries to catch his bearings, but your pouting face causes him to laugh again

"spencerrrr," you groan at the loss of your beloved's kisses and he turns you around and pushes you towards the spot where the others vanished, walking behind you with his hands on your shoulders, your body held at an arm's distance.

"let's go, angel." his words brought out a hmph! from you. "we can do more of that later at home" he whispers, leaning in ever-so-slightly.

you turn your head back to get a glimpse of him, your eyes and smile equally wide with excitement, "can you bring the vest with you?!"

A/N: OKAYYYY lemme stop myself before things get filthy LOL do yall know which episode im referring to in the second scenario? that end scene will always get me my eye are GLUED to spencer the entire time GODDAMN. okay anyway i hope you liked this anon!!! pls tell me yalls thoughts <3

[bloodiedrogue]

PAINFUL VULNERABILITIES (5)

SUMMARY: When your past begins to blend into your present, you find yourself longing for Astarion's comfort.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,648

WARNINGS: ANGST, hurt/comfort, body horror elements, descriptions of torture involving a knife, panic attack, sort of made up Illithid lore??? (I promise there's comfort in the end, I'm sorry!)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Day 5 literally doesn't have a prompt because this idea got terribly out of hand so let's just ignore that and enjoy the angst, shall we?

(Also again, a lot of people's tags weren't working so next time if you haven't fixed it I will be taking you off the list because taglists are a bitch!)

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

-

The nightmares start a few days later.

At first, they’re subtle. Wisps of darkness cloud your thoughts, leaving no memory behind. Silently it lingers, creeping through your skull in waves that inevitably crash against the shore, ripping you awake —leaving you breathless each time you’re left gasping for air in your dishevelled bedroll. When it happens, it always makes you jolt up to look around, trying to find the cause of your plague. The reason why you’re suddenly so wary to lay your head each night.

When you reach the Underdark they only get worse. 

What were once forgotten memories become recurring torments. Endless onslaughts of clawed hands that scratch at your flesh, pulling back skin in massive chunks that pluck excitedly at your insides. 

Thanks to the powers of the Illithid you feel every movement. Every poke and prod slips through you like a knife, cutting you down piece by piece until you’re nothing but a shell. An empty carcass of bone that’ll inevitably be harvested for a purpose far greater than yourself.

Or so she says. As you lie there, writhing in pain, blinking to shield the teeth that bear witness to your torture, you hear her whisper cool and quiet, telling you of your death. Of your fated downfall, and then of your— 

You always wake up before she finishes.

Before you can hear her utter the words you’ve heard a thousand times. Feeling the burn of your lungs, you stretch your fingers across your chest in remembrance, breathing in and out as the skin beneath your digits runs hot and you’re forced to forget the experience all over again.

When you reach camp that night, sore from the seemingly never-ending mushroom forage, you find yourself dreading the prospect of such sleep. Even through the exhaustion, the last thing you want to do is rest your head lest she arrives tonight, so you fight the urge, settling in against the edge of the fire. 

“You look tired.” 

You turn to look at Gale with half-closed eyes, offering him the softest grin you can muster before turning toward the flames. They seem brighter than usual. A decorative flash of warm-toned hues that make you blink and rub your eyes, somehow feeling even more languid. 

“Mushroom hunting take it out of you?”

You hum, making no move to look his way as you pull your knees to your chest, curling in on yourself for comfort. 

As much as you’ve grown to like Gale’s company, all you want right now is silence. A moment of peace where you can just stare into the fire and let your eyes burn from something other than the lack of sleep. Especially after spending the day alongside Lae’zel and Shadowheart as some poorly trained mediator. Just the thought of opening your mouth to speak feels like a threat to your vocal cords. The prospect of speech too much to handle, even as Gale begins to fill you in on his and Wyll’s misadventures with a nearby myconid colony.

“They’re truly such interesting creatures. Did you know…”

His voice falls on deaf ears, earning you nothing but a confused sigh once he realizes you’re not listening. Mostly because it’s not normal for you to just blatantly ignore your peers. 

“Are you alright? Need anything? Perhaps a drink or a—“

You’re standing upright before he can even finish his sentence, brushing the ass of your leathers before walking away, paying no mind to the curious wizard as he looks around the camp, catching the eye of Wyll who merely shrugs. 

It’s not like you to leave. To ignore a friend mid-conversation but your voice is gone. Lost to the void of constant intercession and a brewing anxiety that sits in your chest. As you walk towards your tent you can feel it shifting. Starting at your gut, everything twists to form a sickly sting. A stabbing pain that throbs within your abdomen, threatening to grow as you part the fabric and crawl inside, plopping into bed face first.

Despite your better judgement, you let out a low groan you’re sure at least someone hears causing you to frown, knowing that you’re better than this. Better than neglecting your health because of some silly nightmares. Better than letting the fear of your past get the better of you. Better than brooding about it. 

Turning to lie on your back, you palm the sockets of your eyes in frustration, letting your mind wander. Allowing yourself to feel everything you’ve been suppressing over the last twelve or so hours.

Aside from exhaustion, it’s mostly Astarion that surfaces. His face in the darkness looking at you as you left camp that morning, barely awake enough to give him a nod. In an instant it was as if he was there and gone, looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place before shifting out of view alongside an overly excited Karlach. It was the kind of look that made you question its intentions. Its knitted brows and pursed lips rising and falling through your memories between the scuffles of your two companions. 

As you walked along the edges of the Underdark’s cliff sides, you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly it represented. What emotion it was trying to convey in such a small amount of time before it disappeared completely? 

As you lie there now, once again imagining its form you feel it’s something bordering on pity. A showcase of solidarity in your obviously failing quest for sleep. 

Astarion may not say much about your struggles —unlike him, you don’t complain about the endless problems that you face on the road— but you know he’s still aware of them. He’s too perceptive not to be. 

So why hasn’t he said anything? 

A heavy breath escapes. A shaky one damaged by speculation. Ruined by the assumption that it’s because he doesn’t care. That perhaps you aren’t worth the trouble of a little bit of worry despite previous actions.

You may have killed for him —had his back long before anyone else, but have such feelings ever been reciprocated? Has your worth been proven now that you’ve slain a man in his honour? And if so, how much worth do you truly hold? Is it substantial enough to ask you how you are? Big enough to look at you with any semblance of fondness? Or is it all just for show?

There’s a part of you that hopes it is. That the moments filled with kindness are nothing more than lies told to keep your attention. If he were lying, it wouldn’t necessarily make the way you feel right now any better but it’d mean that there’s an end. A barrier to stop you from getting in too deep. An excuse you could use to explain the naivety of thinking he may care.

Because it wavers —his care. Some days it’s obvious, sometimes it’s not. You can never guess when the care will appear, only that when it’s there and eventually dissipates you’ll be left alone again, wondering why he puts the extra effort in at all. Why he reels you in only to let you go, forcing you to question his intentions as you watch with careful eyes for those moments of reassurance. Moments that you can never prepare for. Ones that gnaw at your heart with pointed teeth wrapped beneath hungry lips, starving for the truth. 

You’re not too sure you’re ready to take that leap yet. To push him for the answers you know he’ll just avoid. He’s never been quick to trust and even when he does allow you in there’s still a blockage of sorts. An obvious resistance that sits between you, forcing you to settle regardless of the fear you hold inside your chest, wondering what would happen if you tried to push. 

You assume it’d ruin you. That, more than likely, pushing too hard would only create an even deeper wedge, making the truth that much more unattainable, leaving you with less than what you started with. 

Shooting upwards, you groan again and breathe, resting your face against your open palms in irritation. 

All you want to do is sleep, knowing the only reason you’re thinking so much is because you’re avoiding it. If you think you can’t drift which means the nightmares can’t come, leaving you with two bad endpoints you know you have to choose between.

It makes you want to scream just thinking about it but instead of giving in to such desires you merely settle back down, pulling the fabric of your bedroll up to your shoulders before closing your eyes. 

You’re going to get some sleep whether or not it kills you. Whether or not you have to endure the pain of a thousand deaths all at once before you’re inevitably woken up in a stupor of suffering.

It doesn’t take long for you to drift. One minute you’re lying there, counting your breaths like sheep and the next you’re out, filtering through a darkness that feels all too familiar. At first, it’s just there, coating your skin in nothingness. Lost to the void of slumber, you’re at peace for the first time in forever but as expected eventually the shadows unfold. Part to reveal a body of pale skin wrapped around viscous veins full of the blood of many. 

It beckons you almost immediately. The flutter of that icy voice saying your name over and over until you come to call, allowing yourself to move. Letting your feet guide you to her presence, you feel the waves and how they threaten to spill over as you kneel before her, feeling her grab your throat. 

Her fingers twitch and curl but never grip as she leans forward, offering you a grin. “You’ve been avoidant.”

You don’t speak. For a moment your lips part, feeling the presence of her thumb glide across the base of your throat but you don’t dare speak.

“You know it’s coming, my dear. You can’t avoid it.”

Your tongue moves to wet your lips while you blink, trying your best to let the visions of her angular face blur into the night that surrounds you, realizing she looks just as you remember her. All papery and washed out —a mere shell of herself now that you’ve gone missing. Her features drying out with each passing day you find yourself separate. 

“Come back to me. Let me protect you.”

You swallow hard and turn your head, feeling the nails of her fingers dig into your neck prompting you to cry out. 

She doesn’t let you do much else. Quickly moving on from the one-sided conversation to grab her knife, you watch as she mumbles under her breath, turning the blade between her fingers with a grin. “In untimely death comes timely renewal, remember?” she says, letting it ghost across your bare chest, pushing the edge against it until it breaks the skin. 

You barely feel the first insertion. As the blade dips through the layers of your flesh, the only thing you feel is her breath. The pattern of air that puffs against your face as she recites those aforementioned words, taunting you as she pulls it down. 

In untimely death comes timely renewal. In untimely death comes timely renewal. In untimely death comes timely renewal…

As the knife moves lower, you repeat the words in unison like a mantra, struggling to get them out through gritted teeth as she works to cut you open. To slice your torso from the sternum down revealing countlessly re-healed bones and slimy organs that lie in waiting for her to pluck.

Hovering above you, her hands move to survey such handiwork, her fingers stroking the edges of your open skin before they inevitably dive right in, ripping you awake. 

You feel the pressure of her inside your gut before it really hits that it’s done. Shooting upward, you cough and double over in an instant, pressing your hands shakily to the ground in front of you. 

It’s the worst dream you’ve had yet. Longer than all the others, you can feel the adrenaline of it all penetrating your thoughts. Overthrowing every single anxiety you’ve ever felt as you sniff back tears, pushing yourself towards the entrance of your tent. 

Pulling it open, you look around the camp in desperation, catching the eye of Wyll who raises his brow, watching as you shake your head, slipping further into the ground.

Before you can even think he’s on you, reaching for your shoulders, asking you what’s wrong and how he can help. In response, you make no effort to reach back. To remedy your pain as you continue to shake and cry, sobbing out the cursed mantra through heavy gasps that leave him panicking. 

“Guys! Something’s wrong!”

As he calls out to the rest of the group, you quickly find yourself surrounded by familiar faces. All of them looking down to see your hysteria unfold. 

“What happened?” Dropping to her knees, Shadowheart’s the first to your side, moving her hands to cup your face before you swat her away, mouthing the words over and over and over again. 

“I don’t know!” 

“You don’t know?”

The two of them continue to bicker. As Wyll explains the way you crawled out of your tent, mumbling something about death, you force yourself to shuffle back, maneuvering your body so that you’re half sitting inside your tent again, watching it all unfold. Focusing on the confusion as Lae’zel and Karlach stand in the wings, muttering to each other words you can’t quite hear while Gale stares down at your mouth, watching the words you speak only to yourself as your eyes start to dart around. 

Surveying the rest of the camp, you wipe away your tears and try to breathe, forcing your mouth to stop its repetitions once you remember the ache inside your chest. 

Because of the Illithid, you can still feel her handiwork. Beneath your sweaty tunic, you can sense its edges burning —stinging from the aftermath as you press a hand to your sternum, making sure you’re still intact. Making sure your organs aren’t on display as you catch sight of Astarion coming up the path. 

He’s nose deep in a book when you see him, scanning the pages with interest before his eyes inevitably raise to see your nervous frame, curling into your tent. Then his interest fades. Evaporating into thin air before it’s replaced with fear. Genuine, heartbreaking fear that has him moving so quickly he fades out of view before reappearing in front of you. 

“What happened?” 

Just like Shadowheart, his hands cup your cheeks, gripping the plush as he lowers himself down, moving his forehead to yours. 

Unlike before you make no effort to push him away. Instead, all you do is frown and try to suppress the tears, clawing at his shirt with desperate pleas, begging him to stay. Begging him to tell you that everything’s going to be okay. Begging for him to lie and say he’ll protect you just like you did for him. 

Using your tadpole you beg him over and over again, letting the tears silently fall from your face, not caring that the whole party is watching.

All you need is him. In falseness or in truth, you don’t care. You just need him to ground you. To call you darling and to make you laugh. To make you feel like you’re something more than a vessel of organs one day destined for harvest. 

As your chest begins to heave, letting all the nightmares unfold all over again, you feel the tadpole behind your eye squirm in response, asking you to let him in. Without hesitation, you close your eyes and swallow hard, feeling his thoughts start to overthrow the visions of her and her knives and the mantra that sticks haphazardly across your brain matter.

I’m here, you’re safe.

For once it feels like a promise. A silent vow meant only for you as he ushers you further into the tent, saying something to your peers before closing it up. After that he readjusts the bedroll with gentle hands, always keeping a single palm against the small of your back, even when he guides you to lie against his chest. 

It’s the first time in weeks that you’ve felt safe. Resting a cheek just below his collarbone, you can feel your breath begin to return to its normal state. No longer ravaged by the panic of your dreams, it moves in and out, fanning the fabric of his shirt. 

“Was it a nightmare?”

You nod. Unsure how to explain it because, while it is a nightmare, it somehow feels so much more. 

“Of the past or?”

“Sort of.” 

He hums curiously, glancing down to see your hand slide up his chest to grip his shirt. 

“It feels like I’m answering a call.”

“A call?”

“Like there’s a person trying to reach me and when I answer I can… I can feel them.”

“Feel them?” 

You can tell he doesn’t quite understand. Not that you blame him for it. The whole concept of these nightmares still vexs even yourself. Leave you stumbling in confusion each night you find yourself awake, struggling to remember what’s real and what’s not. 

The nightmares are not as easily explainable as the actual torture you’ve endured. Especially considering that up until now there had been periods where the memories had died. Days where her face was nothing more than a splotch of white against a backdrop of black, slowly fading away. 

It doesn’t make sense why they're suddenly returning. Why your mind is forcing you to relieve these memories night after night. 

“Does your tadpole make it hard for you to dream?”

There's no hesitation when he says yes. No moment thought before his answer, making you wonder if maybe he too is experiencing these dreams. 

“I feel like it amplifies everything.”

Looking up to gauge his response, you can see the worry clouding his eyes. How his expression sort of fades into the abyss as his eyes focus on yours. 

“I dream of the past a lot. Of my life before this and… and I can feel it. Everything that ever happened I can feel all over again and it’s—“

“Painful.” His voice is broken. A crack in the mirror, shattering the often joyous image of his face as he looks away, blinking. 

Without even processing your movements you prop yourself up on your elbow, reaching over to grab his cheek and pull him back in. “I wish you didn’t understand how it felt.”

There’s a flicker of hurt that hits his face, enveloping his features before the previous sadness kicks in again and he’s reaching for your wrist, tightening around it. “Yes, well, not all of us get the luck of the draw when it comes to good lives.” 

“You should’ve,” you tell him.

He scoffs and closes his eyes, a faint smile pulling at his lips. “You’re probably the only one that thinks that.” 

You let your thumb explore his cheek. Let it move in soft circles, taking in the way it shifts beneath your touch. 

It feels strange to be this close to him even after all of the other intimate moments you’ve shared. Something about it feels softer, more honest than the rest of them, making your heart beat rapidly against your chest, threatening to burst. 

“I know it’s not my business but if you ever want to talk about it—“

He places a kiss to your hand, letting his lips linger against the pad of your thumb as he closes his eyes, reaching around to grip your waist. 

In an instant, the words drift out of your mind once you feel it; lost to a touch you didn’t realize you longed for.

Swallowing hard you lay back down to look away, feeling a bit overwhelmed at the tender image that unfolds as his arm shifts again, accommodating your movement. Making you feel that rush of comfort return as he pulls his mouth away and clears his throat. 

“I’m, uh… I’m not good at this kind of thing.” 

“Vulnerability?” you joke, earning yourself a snort. 

“I suppose that’s a word you can use.” 

“To be fair, neither am I.” 

You feel him shift to meet your gaze, looking at you with surprise. “Really now? I think breaking down in front of the whole camp just so that you can find me is quite the effort of—“

Before he can finish you clamp your hand around his mouth. “I was in shock, you bastard. I wasn’t thinking about my dignity.” 

Flexing around your palm, you feel him smile before he pulls away. “That’s good because there was absolutely nothing dignified about the way you looked at me back there. It was…” He trails off, his words catching in his throat for a moment before he clears it again. “You scared me.” 

There’s a moment of silence after that, lasting far longer for it to be deemed comfortable as you lay there, wide awake, wishing you could get him to talk to you. Hoping that maybe if you reach out with the Illithid he’ll answer your questions. 

Closing your eyes, you feel his presence in your mind already, vying for your attention in a way that has you both moving in closer, tightening your hold. 

Show me the dream. 

It isn’t a question or a request but a simple command that has you obeying —letting him enter your thoughts. Letting him stand along the sidelines as she guides you to the ground and cuts you open all over again. Letting him listen to the recital of words that are spoken behind two frozen expressions as Astarion pulls you tighter against him, placing his mouth to your forehead to stop himself from crying. 

-

TAGLIST: @poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo @jjfchk @idiotsatan @kay24sstuff @bluestuesday @mopeyghost @bloopthebat @art-by-greenie @heneralmoon @80spuppetfantasy @sukunababe @dreamingaboutyousworld @ranfithegood @haniscrying @ghostys1mp @liadamerondjarin @the-lake-is-calling @marina-and-the-memes @rookieoftheyear @zraloci-cpr @kaetmo @snickerdoodle-daydream @wowowwild @d1anna @raswiet @conniesbbymama @sweetrollgal @venus-wrts @demonicthorns @kihten @deadglamsheep @sanscas @spammypasta @leighsartworks216 @rose-gold-blue @p1ssmagg0t @hellish-writes @tea-a-holics @ghostinvenus @theenadaa @otayz @sexysquatch @sleepyeclair @colorful-anxieties @alina-exe @ilana-the-lasagna @lillifer @geektarts

(if you'd like to be added to the taglist fill out this form)