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hoshigray · 9 months

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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.

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bonny-kookoo · 8 months

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Jungkook

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐌𝐞 🔞

You thought you knew he only wanted sex. He thought you knew he wanted love. Who's gonna break first- and who's gonna pick up the pieces?

Tags/Warnings: PWP, messy sex oop, emotions, hurt & Comfort, major angst, minor manhandling, multiple rounds mentioned

Length: 2.3k words

A/N: someone send help I can't write smut no more I'm sorry

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In the beginning, it wasn't supposed to be like this. Really- it wasn't.

Jungkook and you had been nothing but friends, casual ones that would mostly text and sometimes meet up for the odd takeout and drink at either his place or yours. And then, one day, it really kind of just.. happened.

For you, it was clear that he didn't mean it in a sense of 'hey, I love you' because he litereally told you so straight up the next morning. He'd stood up, got dressed, thanked you for letting him stay over, and made sure to tell you that this wasn't him confessing to you in a fuckboy'ish way or anything. That he was totally 'cool' with just staying friends and nothing more.

You had laughed it off. Had said almost nothing. You just took the hit silently, and let him walk out of your apartment, only to have him return a week later.

And the same happened again. You ate, drank, and end up having sex- and while this time it had been on the couch instead of your bed, it still turned out the same the next morning. He'd leave, thank you for staying over, only to text you a few days later if you wanted to hang out at his place.

And there too, he'd end up with his dick inside you. His bed had been comfortable, even if he lacked pillows for some odd reason. It was still nice. And this time, something was different.

This time, it was you who thanked him for letting you stay over, before you'd left.

The same game, simply with reversed players. Nothing new- it just looked like it. And now, after a year of playing this, you're yet again entangled with him in his bed, though he actually owns a few pillows now after noticing your complaints about his lack of them. You slept in the same bed after all, whenever you'd stay over- and while he hoped you'd at some point at least try to cuddle up to him, use him as a pillow, you hadn't. You'd rather accepted the sore neck you'd get the next morning, instead of showing him any kind of domestic affection outside of sex.

And he's not sure how long he can take it.

There's only so much he can do. So much he can offer. So much he can sacrifice for you.

He's unable to keep his hands to himself, uses them to push your wrists into the mattress below instead as he clenches his jaw, grits his teeth under the pressure of his own muscles aching already. He doesn't know how far he needs to go, how hard he needs to fuck your brains out so you understand that it's him who's making your mind spin. Him who wants to offer you so much more than just his dick down your throat or shoved inside your cunt. He could give you so much more than just purple marks on your skin, could give you a lot more lasting things than just a fleeting bruise.

You just won't let him.

And its agonizing.

He doesn't know what to do at this point to show you what he wants, because your eyes are always closed, no matter what. If not physically, then mentally- you don't ever look at him, never see him, all while he can't look away, has to watch every breath of yours. He knows he's not a perfect guy. He's got his flaws, a lot of them, but that can't be the reason you just won't love him.

Because in your touch, in your kisses, in the way you cling to him, he can feel it. It's not just lust and desire that's making you feel like this, he knows that. He just knows- but you act like there's nothing.

You pretend nothing is going on, you just keep your hands over your eyes and never spot the way he kneels in front of your feet, offering his heart clawed straight out of his chest. As if what you do is nothing but a stale job to get done, something not worth much more effort than necessary. A normal 9 to 5 that pays the bills.

And if that's what this is, he wants to be fired.

Because he surely isn't able to quit on his own.

But that's the thing- every time you give him the chance to leave, he just can't let it happen. And neither do you stay away from him for long either. If he doesn't reply to a message you send him for more than a day or two, you'll call him, worried tone in your voice while asking if he's alright. And it hurts, because he feeds off of those moments every single time like a drug addict, wants and needs your attention and has started to ignore you just to get that reaction in return. He knows it's cruel, that at this point you're more than toxic towards one another, but he needs you.

And it's clear that you need him too- you just refuse to admit that.

"Jungkook-" You gasp out when he pushes himself in deep, arms growing tired from the by now third round of lovemaking he's tied you up in. But he can't stop- he doesn't want to. The moment he's done with you, the moment he lets go, you'll leave.

And tonight, he can't handle that. Tonight is his breaking point.

"Jungkook I can't-" You start, but he instead leans back on his heels, pulls your legs over his thighs, before he pushes his length that had slipped out back in, hips lifting before he gathers the last ounces of strength once more. A hand on your cunt spreads the mess he'd made with you around, thumb pressing and circling over your red and swollen bundle of nerves, pushing you towards one last peak with him.

He knows it's ending. He can feel his muscles burn.

So he uses your limp and pleasure-paralyzed body to his advantage, as he moves his hands to pull your back towards him instead, having you sit on him instead, his arms around you, your face in his neck. He hisses a little at the feeling of your hand tugging his hair, the other scratching his back for just a second, as you spasm once more, core clenching around his by now painfully sensitive cock.

His last orgasm is empty, he's got nothing left to give-

and he notices the way you both shiver, just not from the cold.

And if this is the last time, he wants to be stupid- he wants to be selfish, and he wants to at least pretend for a moment while you're still out of it that he's got you. That you want him even if you're not just fucking.

His lips kiss the salty skin of the crook of your neck, up to right underneath your ear, as he leaves his head there, breathes in your scent. His arms hold you close, length softening inside you, cum and arousal leaking and causing a weird slippery sensation on the skin of his thighs. And then, you try to move. "Don't-" He mumbles, voice hoarse. "..not yet."

You're quiet, feeling a bit panicked. You need him to let go of you, right now. Because the way his hot breath fans over your skin, the feeling of his arms hot around you, the sensation of his body so close is making you delirious. It's causing your fucked up brain to come up with dangerously domestic scenes of a post-sex shower with him, where you both fail to stand up for long enough to get yourselves clean, so you have to rather take a bath and laugh about the trembling of your muscles as you somewhat clumsily make yourselves at home in the warm soapy water. It creates a dream where you sleep next to him tonight, only dressed in barely any clothes so you can feel as close as you can throughout the night, his heavy body clinging to yours at some point, raspy voice greeting you with a good morning the next time you both wake up. It paints a picture of breakfast together, of a playful argument with him about the muscle ache you both have from the excessive amount of lovemaking you both just did.

But it's not lovemaking. You two simply fuck- you don't make love.

"Jungkook, I'm all gross-" You whine, trying to push him, when you suddenly feel it as he holds you even tighter, face resting on your shoulder. He's shaking, but not from the exhaustion of his muscles.

He's crying, quietly, trying hard not to have you notice.

It confuses you. You're not sure what to do, so for now, you just lean into him, rest your own head on his shoulder, and interlace your hands behind his back as you relax. "Don't do that.." He suddenly says, shaking his head and leaning away from you. No you're definitely confused. "I can't.."

"Jungkook what's wrong?" You ask, as he takes in a deep breath to calm himself, hands wiping his face almost aggressively. "What's going on?"

"You should go shower now." He mumbles, not looking at you as he cringes a little when he finally slips out of you, sitting on the edge of the bed, before his hands rub his arms, muscles probably aching already. "Do you need me to drive you home?" He wonders, and you just sit on the bed, watching him.

It's silent, for a good while, until he finally turns a little to look at you.

And you've never really seen anything that physically hurts you so much as his face in this moment, heart dropping down towards hell, ice cold shock running up your spine at the pure exhaustion on his face. But it's not physical exhaustion you see. No- whatever it is, it's something else.

"Jungkook.. talk to me-" You try, but he scoffs, shakes his head.

"I don't want to." He denies, getting up to walk into the bathroom, where he turns on the lights and starts the shower. You feel oddly small in his apartment, weirdly out of place as you look around, surroundings unfamiliar now that you actually look at them. Have you ever really looked at his apartment? Or just the ceiling at max?

Then again, why would you? Jeon Jungkook doesn't do relationships, and you know this because he told you. Numerous times. So why is he so distressed today?

When he walks back out, you quietly wobble into the bathroom yourself, get clean and get out once more to see him already changing the sheets, angrily throwing the soiled one's to the floor. It's clear that something's off this time, and you're at fault- but you're not sure what you've done.

So you just sit down on the floor with crossed legs, butt cold on the ground since you're only wearing panties and a shirt of his you found.

"There's sweatpants in the hamper. They're clean." He mumbles, not sparing you a glance. "You can wear those. I'll drive you home in a second-"

"I don't wanna go home." You say, making his movements stutter.

"What?" He turns towards you, eyes all puffy from his earlier emotional break.

"I don't wanna go home." You repeat. "Not until you tell me what's wrong." You say, and he shakes his head, pulling the bedsheet over the mattress, groaning angrily when it slips up on another corner, undoing most of his work. You, instead, laugh a little, getting up slowly to walk over and help him.

He sighs.

"Why do you want to stay?" He asks, and you look at him as he braces his hands on the mattress, not looking up at you.

"Why do you never want me to stay?" You ask instead, and his brows furrow in confusion, as he finally looks up.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" He asks, genuinely confused. "You're the one that always leaves the moment I'm done with you." He accuses, and you stare at him almost offended.

"Excuse me?" You scoff. "Who leaves me while I am asleep after almost breaking my bed twice now?" You argue.

"You didn't invite me to stay, like, ever!" He barks back, now standing to full height again, staring at you.

"Well boohoo, didn't know the prince himself needed a formal invitation to stay in my bed after I sucked his dick!" You huff, crossing your arms.

"What the fuck is your problem?" He asks, and you open your mouth, offended.

"No, what the fuck is your problem?!" You respond back, before both of your faces relax visibly.

"I always wanted to stay. I just didn't know if you wanted me to." He says awkwardly, and you sigh, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt you're wearing.

"And I wanted you to stay, but I.. you said you don't do relationships and all that, so I didn't want to seem clingy." You mumble. "I rather, you know.."

"...took what you offered and never asked for more.." He continues.

"..so I would at least not lose you." You finish, and you both stare at each other for a good moment-

before you both break out in tearful laughter, falling into bed together-

for the first time, actually holding each other throughout the night, and many more to come.

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#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #bts smut #jeon jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook imagine #bts jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader

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kmazine · 5 months

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[ 04:58 PM ]

It's not even thirty minutes since Seungcheol been laying down on the couch and he's been sighing nonstop ever since. Despite the sound of the vacuum cleaner in your hand, it's not hard to hear his heavy sighs even when he didn't mean to make it obvious either.

"Are you okay, babe?" You turned off the vacuum cleaner and rest it carefully on the wall before walking to sit on the floor beside the couch.

"Tell me what's wrong" You scoot closer to the couch so you can rest your chin at the edge of the couch, face closer to his.

He turned his body to the side, facing you. He just offer you his pouty lips instead of answering you. You look at him as his eyes wanders into yours. He bites the insides of his cheek and seems hesitate to tell you. You let him doing whatever mental gymnastic he have in his mind for a minute before you palm his cheek with your hand and stroke your thumb on his cheek, making he sighs at your soft touch.

"I'm going to complaint again..." He purse his lips. He didn't need to explain for you to know what he's talking about. Your eyes shifted to his leg wrapped in thick cast.

"Well, you know what. Tell me, I'm all ears" you gaze your eyes back to him, as other hand offer gentle pats on his head as you wait for him to talk about it.

He immediately propped his head with his elbow as he start talking. From with how it's hard for him to not being able to do anything he used to especially when his work need him to be able to move around, and how it makes him more anxious each days because of it. You eyes never left his, making sure he knows you're listening, and sometimes you reply him with nods and hums, assuring him that you understand his frustration.

"I know you don't like hearing this but... I still feel like it's my fault. If - if only I'm being a bit more careful...." Another heavy sigh left his lips. Your heart hurts for him.

Be it work related or outside his work, he's an active person. He always enjoy outdoor activities with you and his friends so not being able to move actively because of his leg injury took a toll on him mentally too, so you hope at the very least, just listening to him talking about it might make him less stressed out. But, it give a pang to your heart when he start blame himself for that and it's only right for you to remind him that that's not the case.

"It's right for you to feel frustrated but you need to stop blaming yourself for this. I don't like it when you think it's your fault. Sometimes accident happens, Cheol. Let's look at the bright side okay?" You reassure him despite you yourself don't know how to convince him and wonder if you say the right thing.

He sit up and pats the space beside him, signaling you to sit beside him so you settle yourself right next to him.

"It's bearable only because I've got you with me here." His hands wrapped around your arm, as you let him rest his head on your shoulder.

"See. That's the bright side I'm talking about" You joke, hoping it will lift up his mood. You don't want him to dwell into this too much.

"Well, can't argue with that" He giggles and crane up his face to stamp a kiss on your lower jaw.

"Do you want to invite the boys to play game and hang out here? I think some of them are free tomorrow?" You pull back enough to look at his face. The joy bubble up inside of you at the way his face beams at your suggestion.

"They can be here all day while I'm at work. I'm going to buy dinner for us tomorrow, so just make sure to let me know how many of them will be joining" He nods, as his lips quirks up.

"You're the best, babe. I love you" Seungcheol pouts, that cute pouts when he's all excited and you just want to kiss that lips. Knowing the look on your face, he moves his face closer to yours and kiss you before both of you let out a fit of giggles. He then grab his phone from the coffee table before his fingers went busy, tapoing on the touchscreen — you assumed he's mentioning tomorrow's plan to his friends.

"Also, I need your help with this" You stand up and walk towards the fresh dry laundry's basket and put it beside him. You hope with this simple chores, it will help him forgot about his concern for a while.

He reply you with an okay, still all smiley. He then tugs your arm so you bend your face down closer to him before he cups your face with his palms and melt his lips on yours, making you smile against his lips.

"Also, thank you, love." He said after he pulled out from the kiss before stamped his lips on your forehead. You let out a happy hum before continue doing the chores that you've been postponing for few days now.

Little did you know, Seungcheol secretly ordering your favourite food from your favourite restaurant for dinner.

p/s : I didn't specify or go into details the cause or severity of his broken leg so it can be from less serious incident too.

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[ my other works / masterlist ]

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a.n : I hesitate to post this one actually. I wrote this back then when Seungcheol went to Japan for the Tokyo concert. I want to post other fics first and come back to this later but his post on weverse and live last week somehow makes me want to post this sooner because his words somehow remind me of this and I hate being too emotional for him but here I am.

Like always. Excuse me for any grammatical mistakes or typos. I wrote this then dipped on this before coming back to add the last part so those mistakes this might be worse then the others. But I want to post this asap as much as I hesitate 😭

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1moremilgram-enjoyer · 7 months

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Es T1 Cover - Hibana

Hey there! Milgram covers, huh? They're really interesting! I've decided to look at all of them and give my thoughts on each, and while I thought about doing it all in just one post, I'm gonna separate them because why not. Anyways, this time I'll talk about Es' only cover (of songs not originally from Milgram), Hibana! Let's see how our favorite Warden connects to this song.

CW Allusions to guns and shooting

(Note: 'Hibana' means spark)

Hibana has the singer speaking to their lover about an issue with their relationship, which is how the lover struggles to express their opinions and make decisions for fear of disagreeing with the singer.

Now now, time to mute all complaints, Hesitating over stupid things.

(Translation)

Basically, they consider a love without disagreements "incomplete." If you truly love someone, then you have to accept their views even when you disagree, right? To love someone fully, you need to know them fully.

It’s “incomplete”, I’ll say it time and time again. nanananananananana Amidst a love that missed hitting “NO”

Even if it causes the singer anxiety and distress by the nature of disagreements, it's needed for their relationship to flourish. The spark in the title refers to the spark of love, but also to the spark of two objects colliding with each other.

I don’t want to harbor a love that will never end, Come on, properly fill me more with anxiety. I’d like you to act your part at peek a boo, Come on, answer to what I ask more properly!

I don’t want to love a weak-minded love, Come on, make it hurt more properly. Going so far it’s no longer funny, is surely much more enjoyable, Come on, melt me more properly!

(Note: Peek a boo is a game where you hide with your hands, but then reveal your face again. Thus, 'playing their part at peek a boo' means revealing their 'face', their opinions)

You can sorta see where the connection to Es is, once you consider most of these songs are abstracted so the romantic/sexual partner represents something else and the relationship is not literal. Es is singing this to themselves, asking themselves to be sure and confident in their judgement of the prisoners. That's what the love likely represents, too. Es doesn't want to hesitate, they want to be able to forgive and not forgive with the conviction a Good Warden ought to have.

[Imposter Boulevard] (Kazui T2 VD) Es: I'm the Guard. If I forgive you, I forgive you. If I don't, I don't. There's no other factors to it.

[Baptism of Fire] (Fuuta T2 VD) Es: I am the Guard of MILGRAM, the one who judges your sins. It's not just you and Mahiru – I've faced all ten of you prisoners with my own life. Don't lump me in with someone like you, who used someone's sins for cheap entertainment!

Steadfast in their opinions, not to be swayed by whatever the prisoners say, not to let themselves get tempted by the idea of compromise. They can't be a perfectionist, they need to be unafraid of mistakes.

Knock knock, ‘with this it's a tie’, Confined within unfilled time. Perfectionism turns smoky, With an echoing voice I’m feeling vertigo and monotony.

But there's also an interesting implication. Because the disagreement and the steadfast opinions are necessary, but they're also distressing. In the song's original context, that's just the nature of disagreement, but here Es would be disagreeing with themselves.

Shoot up that head...

The imagery of shooting in the head referenced in the song art is about this anxiety and hurt induced by disagreement.

But for Es, they're stressed by the weight of their decisions, by the impact their judgement can have on the prisoners. Hibana brings up this conflict front and center.

[TASK] (Kotoko T1 VD) Kotoko: You are not the executioner who convicts people for their sin. The person who offers to save the murderers who deserve to be forgiven.. It's also you. Es: Aaah.. Mm.. *shallow gasping* K: Come, Es… then, listen to my sin… E: *gasp* Prisoner number 10.. Kotoko.. Come..! Sing… your… sins… *sob*

[Baptism of Fire] Es: I didn't wish for you to get a punishment like this! And I didn't instruct Kotoko to do that, either. Punishments executed through violence… Fuuta: Huh… E: I didn't think it would turn out this way.

[Love is (Un)Dead] (Mahiru 2nd VD)] Es: …I'm sorry. I'm responsible for the fact that you've ended up like this. Mahiru:*Coughing, heavy breathing* E: It was my decision not to forgive you. I don't intend to deny that. But… the fact that I couldn't predict Kotoko's actions was a failure on my end. M:*Heavy breathing* E: If I had known that it would turn out like this… [...] M: Yeah. Es-kun, you're working so hard… You're doing great. E: ...! M: …Oh my… are you crying? Es-kun…

God I love Es so much. I am so mad we don't have a cover specifically for them in Trial 2.

Anyways, that's the gist of it. Since these songs weren't written for Milgram, analyzing the general themes and topics is more important than going deep into each and every lyric, so I think this is a decent overview of this one. Hope it was good enough! Take care!

#milgram #es milgram #000 #hibana cover #i have a few of these written already so i might end up spam posting them a bit #cw guns #cw shooting #i finally got to talk a bit about the funny warden child! let's go!

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herzgeist-writes · 7 months

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Pairing: Law x Bratty fem!reader | Word count: 6.8k | Warnings: Smut ༝ male & female masturbation, oral sex male receiving, cum swapping, hand kink, slight medical kink

Synopsis: A persistent cold bothered you for a few days and results in Law treating you with all sorts of medicaments, leaving you disgruntled by the bitter aftertastes which burn into your tongue. Of course you are aware that this is only for the best, however, the surgeon decided to perscribe you furthermore, even though all the suffering has ended already. It's then, when you opt to give him a taste of his own medicine.

A/N: A little smutty OneShot. Do I need say more?

Dividers by cafekitsune ~

"You can't make me!", dodging like a pro boxer, you avoid the incoming syrup, aiming for your mouth. The spoon in the slender inked fingers takes back in seemingly defeat. DEATH has spared you. For now. The man who owns these embellished hands, stares you down coldly, steel orbs unwavering from your annoyingly squirming frame: "Quit your whining, (Y/n)-ya! You've been like this all week."

Crossed arms enhance your protest, pouting while you glare at the doctor towering over you: "And whose fault do you think it is?" It brings him over the edge, listening to your utterly thoughtless complaints and backtalk. His eye lid begins to twitch out of pure irritation, which prompts him in a low growl of disatisfaction.

"Who decided to take a walk at night in the rain? Without proper clothing?", he rumbles at you, rather calm, though his expression nearly resembles the one of a predator, a big cat hissing at you. You admire the surgeon's composure, yet also you love to watch him lose it. It is incredibely rare, but nothing can compare to a Law, all riled up, you could say, in one way or another. And why does it please you that much? Simply explained, it's the disgruntled scrunch of his nose and deep reverbing growl, threatening to tear you apart, if you won't quit this farce. If he can tease to his heart's content, so can you.

The raven's counter silences you for good though, not able to deny what caused you your cold. Still, it's been days since the symptoms have eased. Be that as it may, the doctor hasn't stopped perscribing you that throat clenching slab and sandpaper pills. As if he read your mind, he cocks a brow at you, tilting his head while growling through clenched teeth: "If you want to renounce my treatment, fine. Don't come crawling on your knees when things get more serious."

You already know, that he doesn't mean the words he says in blinded anger, for he keeps on standing before you, not moving an inch until he hears an apology. Law is a devoted doctor, it's his passion to treat the wounded, the sick and the suffering. However, you won't begrudge him that easily. Not falling for his mind games.

Just rolling your eyes at the visibly upset man, who ever so slightly seems to inch closer to you, with a forceful push you shove him aside and walk past the tall and slender figure. The metal door creaks open. As you are about to leave, Law's voice calls out to you in faint desperation: "Oi wait. You can have my cookie, from Penguin's baking batch today. Let's call it a . . peace offering."

How suspicious. Not quite fond of his pronounciation and perception of 'peace', you snatch the sweet goodness out of his hand, which held out his apparent 'contribution' of truce. To be fair, you expected an apology, but this will do for the time being.

The sugar lets your lips curl in delight and you finally make your way out of the infirmary, however, before you get out of the doctor's sight, you hear a 'shambles' behind your back, close to a whisper. Homogeneous acid runs down your throat, where the tasty bits of crumbles were supposed to be transported to your tummy.

With the spoon in hand, that aimed at your mouth unrelentlessly a few moments ago, your expression turns and twists under the sour aftertaste prickling on your tongue. It's the medicine Law perscribed you over the last week.

Did he really have the audacity to switch the cookie with the syrup? Outraged you yank the spoon out of your mouth with a distinct pop and throw it at your Captain with brute force: "Trafalgar you- bastard! That's just gruesome!"

The little piece of metal comes flying at the tall man and he deftly catches it without effort, tutting at you with his trademark smirk: "Come now, let's not turn to violence towards our superiors. Same time tomorrow, dear patient?" Only snarling furiously at him as a reply, you slam the door shut. Now alone, he shakes his head in pure entertainment.

This means all-out war.

The next day

"(Y/n)? What are you doing here? You're not even on kitchen duty this week.", Penguin comes toddling over to the counter, watching you clean the dishes, after apparently creating something to nibble on. Curious, the cutely hatted man peeks over your shoulder to see what you made, but in vain.

You deny him that little survey of his and pack your mystery food away: "Sorry, that's just for me." - "Shucks, too bad. Your cooking's always so amazing. Make some for me too next time, will ya?" Giving the nosy boy a warm smile you promise him with a reassuring laugh. As he's heading out the kitchen once more, you straighten your clothes and take a quick glance at the clock.

"He should be searching for me now.", you utter quietly to yourself, awaiting a certain aloof 'medical practitioner', all tenacious in giving you the very much needed medicine. How delusional can one be? Those thoughts swirl around in your pretty little head, as a devilish grin plants on your face, for you have carefully forged a delicious plan.

Out of the blue, a deep voice rumbles at your back, answering your open statement: "And he found you." Startled you spin around, standing in your Captain's shadow, who only sneers at you gloatingly. That sadist. Yet, your shocked look smoothens out in a knowing smile all the same. It surprises your oh so beloved surgeon, nonetheless he just shrugs it off. "You know what time it is, right (Y/n)-ya?" - "Oh I do . . doctor."

What happend with temper tantrum (Y/n)? Is this really you? You would have made a run for it by now, but you didn't, to Law's bewilderment. Thus, he puts the remedies on the counter and you unexpectedly ready a glas of water for the pills. He'd like to remark, that this is a nice turn of events, still, he misses those pouty lips you make, everytime you're about to swallow those nasty sandpaper medicaments.

With ease, you gulp them down and face the confuddled Captain. "I'm ready for your next treatment.", awaitingly fluttering your doe eyes at him, you shuffle in place, wriggling your 'goods'. It is just now, that the slowly flustering man realises how undecent you're clothed. The top tight on your skin, revealing your curves and the cleavage lower than usual, your well formed chest being slightly pressed up by the seems.

Of course he has seen you in undergarments before at the regular health check ups and other, let's say close interactions. It goes without saying that this is stirring up something completely different within the supernova. Not the need to wreak havoc nor the need to mend, but to ravage. To ravage you. Inwardly cussing to his own bold thoughts, he brashly shakes his head to your notice.

"So? Will you give it to me?", obviously, this innocence is all enacted, but it works it's wonders. The man is entranced. The evident annoyance grows on the white hatted one's expression. Your coyness is practically palpable. Why does he find himself that much drawn to you?

His voice breaks slightly mid sentence, telling you to stop acting a fool. How you enjoy the abashment written all over him. Though he is worked up by your lecherous behaviour, he manages to pour the syrup onto the spoon and hand it over to you. "No, I can't do this on my own, doctor." - "Of course you can! Quit being a baby and-", he gets interrupted by you opening your mouth, waiting to be . . fed? Law's eyes widen in the faintest.

Seems like there is no other way around. You need that follow up medicine to be on the safe side and he doesn't bear the nerves and patience to stand and watch until you finally take it yourself. His inked hand brings the spoon to your cherry pink lips and intently follows your subtle movements.

A soft sigh coaxes out of you as your tongue subsequently twirls around the metal, leaving the doctor entirely dumbfounded. As if you feel his fixation on you, your up until now closed in indulgence eyes look at the surgeon through your long lashes.

His demeanor may appear indifferent, but it's the way his lips are standing agape, his chest beginning to heave more visibly and pupils expanding to your display of indisputable ambiguity. Hence, you let go of the spoon and show your gratitude with the sweetest of smiles, Law hasn't seen in a while on you.

This is where he comes to the conclusion, that there must be a downside to this, putting away the tool in absentmindedness. Every step you take and every smooth motion of your body makes the Captain's head spin. He questions his own sanity at this point, male instincts slowly but steadily taking over.

Now standing with a bowl at the counter, you take off the plastic wrapers, revealing the chocolate cream you made a few minutes ago. Law doesn't understand, sighing in unease: "What are you on about, (Y/n)-ya? That's not really good for your health." - "What am I on about?" You pause for a moment and put your index finger into the sweet and creamy dessert, about to lick it off the digit tantalizingly. With a devious smirk, you let your tongue gather the sultry chocolate, gliding slowly over your skin, all done while staring at the gawking supernova.

"I'm preparing your treatment. Look at you, the poor Surgeon of Death is all pale.", you coo sheepishly and the man before you snorts at your naivety. The so called 'paleness' you pointed out on him is only due to the ever so slightly crawling anxiety up his spine. He quickly retorts, tilting his head and mocking you with a raised eyebrow: "You must be out of your mind. The fever probably damaged your brain."

There is that annoyingly adorable face again, pouting at him pleadingly. Stiffening under your boring gaze, he doesn't admit to defeat, but compromises. Opening the nearest drawer to get a spoon, Law stops in his tracks as he realises there are none. Not a single cutlery is to be seen. Strange. Isn't Penguin on kitchen duty this week? It appears the Captain needs to have a word with his subordinate later on, yet your tedious lasciviousness occupies him to the fullest, oddly interested in what your 'evil scheme' leads to.

"Guess you'll have to use your finger too." - "How absurd.", it's no use to withstand your intrusive open opinion and he just does as proposed. A bit disgusted he dunks in his slim inked finger and watches as the cream slowly drizzles down, almost reaching his palm. Altough sweets aren't his prefered option, curiousity killed the cat, in this case, the doctor.

Before he can have a taste, a surprised hum escapes Law as he feels your small and warm hand wrapped around his wrist and you pull it towards you. Capturing his pretty digit between your plush lips, you basically suck him off. By the strange yet enticing feeling of your tongue wandering up and down his index, he can't help but struggle to supress a shaky whimper. It is truly a sight to behold, alluring little you enjoying herself, as if giving him a blo-

No, this is wrong. Law is about to pull away, however the spell has him bound to you. He starts to like your 'treatment'. Painstakingly slow, you open your mouth once more and your damp muscle follows along his strangely loosend finger, all the way up to the tip, where you stop. Hazed steel eyes narrow down at you: "Keep going."

You deem him to be a good patient, thus you decide to induldge him further into the sensation, your wet cavern close to swallowing him once more. A more audible groan emits from the man giving in to your seduction.

Footsteps, coming from the corridor's outside the kitchen, immediately let the Captain stiffen in panic, almost embarrassed already, though you haven't even been detected yet. The metal door swings open and a white furred mink, a red head man and a curly haired woman stand in the frame. "Weird, I thought I heard the Captain in here.", Bepo's ears twitch in wonder, convinced he perceived an odd sound of his superior's voice in this room. Shachi and Ikkaku shrug it off without a care and go on with their day.

At the infirmary

Luckily, Law was quick to react and warp you away from the possible faux pas. Hastened air intake restricts his ability to talk clearly, not to mention think clearly after what you have done to him. Glancing at his dirtied finger, he turns to you: "What's gotten into you?" - "I just perscribed you your precautionary medicaments."

Counting two and two together, he suspects the worst. You weren't even close to finished and you step closer to the man, who backs up, bumping into the examination table, trying to keep a distance from the lecherous vixen before him. Slyly smiling at the anxious white hatted one, you giggle with a hint of triumph and lean near his ear: "What's wrong doctor? I'm returning the favor."

It clicked in his head. For your unbearabley alluring voice purrs those words to him and your hot breath fans over his neck, he gets the idea of your pent up energy and rage, formed into a ball of temptation and hunger for revenge. All because he only fullfilled his duty as a doctor. It humors him immensely. "I'm just amazed by your 'medical' knowledge. Please, enlighten me with your . . ways.", his lips curl deviously and with a low chuckle he prompts you to release your inner demon, your gripe against this smug son of a gun. He is literally asking for it, enjoying it nonetheless.

Despite the fact, that he figured you out, the crave to give him a taste of his own medicine doesn't cease within you one bit. The fun begins.

Utmost care guides your palm to his forehead: "Let me take your temperature, you're all red." Indeed, he is to the slightest warmer than supposed to. Oh, why is that, you think, chuckling inwardly. You can't help but to slide your hand down along his sideburn, cupping his cheek. "It seems you have an increased temperature. To be sure, I'll commence a 'different' measuring technique.", soft and playful, you hum at Law. Is it just you, or did he shiver by your touch? Might explain the goosebumps slowly forming on his skin, almost spreading all over his body.

Gustily, you place your thumb on his chin, subtly fondling his goatee and you ask him to say 'Ah'. What would you give to take a picture of the instant his expression sunk in itself, seeing what you had in mind of using as a 'thermometer'. Relaxed and loosend up, your index finger prods at his lips: "Come on, Trafalgar. Open wide for me." It's official, your Captain will think twice, before going overboard with your future treatments.

For one, he will have to concede, that you are an insufferable patient, willing to kill their own doctor. A shame, he enjoyed your cute wannabe dangerous faces by all means. The most reasonable option, is to never ever overprescribe you again. Yet for two, if he wants to tease you to the brink of oblivion, watching you go insane, would he be willing to pay the price? The price, he is effectively paying this moment? All that contemplating opts in giving him migraines. Therefore, he decides to play your little 'game'.

Carefully opening his mouth, his gaze concentrates on your ever so painstakingly slow approaching digit, threatening to enter his warmth. At first, his eyes squeeze tight, by that strange feeling of your squirming finger drifting along his tongue. Surprise claims him, as he hears a fleeting sigh of satisfaction coming from you. With your free hand you nudge on his jaw, signalising him to completely close his agape lips: "Darling, I can't take your temperature properly, if you gawk at me like that."

Then, the wet heat engulfs your finger entirely, your voice yielding in a sensitive whimper. Law's body either ignites or freezes up completely, he cannot tell which is more accurate, or which is worse. However, that sound you just made, he is determined, enthralled to hear it again. Thus, the doctor sucks gently on your velvety skin. Pride swells his chest, as he achieves what he is aiming for, another short gasp leaves you, low and sweet mewls follow subsequently.

Who is treating who now? You pull your finger out of this greedy man's mouth and give him an theatrical frown: "My poor surgeon is burning up," you tug every last button of his royal blue vest open, the fabric slides aside, revealing his black lined embellishment and uncontrolledly contracting abs: "but I know the perfect remedy for it." The wild sensations of your fingers tracing his torso appease him and the way you soak in the view enhances his self-confidence.

Abruptly ripping the clothing off his shoulders, he throws it somewhere across the infirmary and anticipatorily awaits your next move. Your doe eyes blink at him a tad bit abashed by his sudden decision to tag along and you pour more oil into the already ablaze flame: "You must be seriously ill, if you want that cure so badly, Captain." - "The only ill things about me are my thoughts. Better hurry up, or else I'll take over the procedure."

It's his cocky manner of holding himself before you, that gets you going. Seeing how he begins to straighten his upper body in a mixture of discomfort and pride, showing off his lean body to you. Very much pleasing to the eye, so much so smooth to the touch, will it be just as delicious to the taste?

No better way than to find out by spreading those legs for days apart and push yourself closer to the now confounded man, peering at you from his seat on the examination table. "Before I treat you accordingly, let me make sure your heart rate is alright.", your lips press onto his sternum, where the jolly roger has been eternalized, grinning at you. From there, you follow the curling and twisting lines, covering his chest, leaving a trail of hot kisses behind.

The strong beat of his heart catches your attention and a low supressed, yet satisfied rumble emits from underneath his ribcage. Done with your last exam, you're keen on nourishing him the long needed, the oh so awaited medicine: "Take these off for me, if you would be so kind, my dear Captain." Fingers hook into rim of his pants and drag at the seems, animating the excited man to pull the tight and spotted fabric down.

Taking back, you enjoy the show, Law nervously fumbles around with the button of his jeans. How is it, that exactly when it matters, simple things like these turn into the most difficult of tasks. He groans: "How humiliating." A cheeky giggle reverbs from within you, amused to see this aloof male struggle.

"Better?", sitting on the table's edge with only his underwear, tenting from his arousal, he raises an eyebrow at you. No, it's not enough. To his question you shake your head and cross your arms, tilting your head with a smirk: "All of it." You swear you could have heard him swallow hard to your unmistaken directive.

It is true, that you and the doctor had shared a few moments of intimacy, however this is something completely different, new even. Law's mind was, and still is filled with this exact happening, after the both of you enjoyed eachother's company to a somewhat close and wholesome level to this point. This is where his male instinct starts to overflood him gradually, for he verily is looking foward to relish in your feminine charms. He knew the time would come, yet he must confess he wouldn't have guessed for it to occur now. Right here in his infirmary.

Overwhelmed with lust, he does as told and his boxers reach the floor, just like his pants. In satisfaction you let off a soft 'Mhm', a noise resembling to a symphony to Law's ears. "Aren't you handsome?", you praise, easing your posture by loosening your crossed arms. Usually, patience is a virtue and highly regarded by your Captain, your audacity to test it though, is riling up every fibre in him. With fluster heating up your cheeks, you turn your attention to his errection: "Anticipation is the greatest joy, wouldn't you say?" - "I promise you, it will turn into far more than just fervor."

A barely audible crack in his voice, reveals to you, how urgent it appears to your dear patient. It is apparent, this is the cue to initiate the next step. You deliberately motion a beckoning gesture and demand Law to touch himself. Without thinking twice, not even questioning your query, the tattooed hand reaches tormentingly slow for his hard on. Trafalgar's gaze never wavers from you, only faint flutters of his lashes blurr his vision. Hitched breath lets his chest heave erratically, mouth agape, air being pushed through his marginally chapped lips.

What a sight. At this rate, you feel your own arousal dampening your underwear, not far from walking up to him and take matters into your own hands. Patience (Y/n), you have a goal.

Encouraging Law further with a warm expression, desire reflects in your deep e/c eyes as you watch his palm glide along his length up and down, again and again. "Look at you, so attentively following my instructions." - "Don't get over your head, darling.", your sassy remark is prompting him to give you a laschivious smile, huffing in blended amusement and stimulation, a hint of sarcasm rolling of his tongue as your newly received name falls.

Your jeans flow down your legs and pools around your ankles on the floor, panties come shortly after. Law stopped pleasuring himself to observe you closely, seeing your plush thighs reveal. How long has he waited to finally get to drown himself by that view. No doubt, he can already tell, this is his absolute favorite part of you, yet he unabatingly keeps his lustful gaze on your upper half. There is something else he would like to get a concept of.

The tight-fitting fabric on your upper body slides upwards, delicate skin captivating the doctor. The higher you pull your shirt up, the more he craves you. In a distinctive bounce, your breasts fall out their restriction. Their fullness, their soft lines and perkiness present beautifully before him. Of course, Law has seen countless people naked for clinical reasons, men and women. Be that as it may, it doesn't mean he doesn't long for a body of his own, a person sculpturing his preferations, able to press the right buttons and enjoy the outcome. You fit his description of perfect, it goes without saying.

There you stand, your fingers drifting over the surface of your frame, igniting him from within. "Who said you could stop, my love?", you coo at the Captain, who struggles to hold in a dreamy sigh, or better, overpowered low moan, deftly answering in a deep rumble: "The nerve. Will you get on with it already?"

How needy. For once, you grant him that wish and you tread over to him. Moderately, Law's aching member gets stroked again, with every inch you step closer he picks up the pace. Control and composure has left you, only thoughts of making this man lose his mind sticks in your head. Thus you grab his thigh and lean towards him, his face not more than a breath away, your forehead pressed against his.

"We've waited long enough, haven't we?" - "I agree, though you must admit you'd be a terrible doctor, sweetheart.", the tension is palpable, as you playfully bicker at eachother. It doesn't need long, for you to finally place your quivering lips against his. From small and timid pecks, to longing and sultry lip-locks. A string of saliva building a bridge between your tongues everytime you pull away to quickly fill your lungs with air again.

Law's head spins from the luring thrill of your smooth kisses. His teeth graze at your cherry like skin, subsequently giving it a desirous bite, tugging on your bottom lip to hear your melodious cries. Moans fill his ears, leaving him enraptured by your appeal. All while the both of you give in to eachother, you sense his fist float over your lower abdomen, working on his excitement in his lower regions, slow and steady.

Carefully, you kiss his cheek, getting tickled by his sideburns and give his earlobe some well deserved care. Soft nibbles shift to greedy bites, earning a satisfied groan from the Captain. His golden earrings rattle lightly as you pick at them. A shudder runs down Law's spine from the rousing feeling on one of his weak spots. Sweetily you whisper: "Side effects may include haziness, over sensitivity and weakness of the limbs." The doctor smirks to that wannabe professional description and replies right away pretensely: "Isn't that concerning. You better do your job right."

Taking back, you give him a last passionate kiss, tilting your head to deepen the affection. Before you get to proceed your plan, his arm slings around your waist and pulls you closer to him. Your chest now right infront of his face. That takes you by surprise, as you feel his yearning lips caressing your silky skin of your chest, occassionally sucking and biting to mark you as his. Law's head lifts to face you and you recognise that smug look he throws at you: "Enjoy the control as long as it lasts, your brain nourishes on a placebo, which I'm about to extract from you, as soon as your little girl's dreams are fullfilled."

That is exactly what makes you go insane about him. His drive to stay in charge, dominance being the crux of his pride. Gladly, you steal a portion of Law's dignity, wanting to see his ego crumble under your touches. Despite that, you give him a chance to let him 'speak' his mind. Your fingers glide through his raven hair, beguiling him to whatever he craves to do to you.

Appreciating your invitation, his tongue runs over your nipple. It's precisely what he wanted to hear, your mewls and whimpers, as he encloses the wet circles around your swollen bud, capturing it with his mouth. The lewd sounds of his lips smacking and sucking on your reddened skin, promotes you to raise your voice. Low whines turn into ardent moans. He found your weak spot to his sheer pleasure. The way you tremble under his ministrations sends him to cloud nine, loving his control over your body, knowing how to make you feel good. No, it's not just your body, you in total, are all his now.

Teeth prod on your sensitive nipple, pushing you over the edge, your digits rake into his scalp in overstimulation. Showing mercy on your tit, his other free hand hovers down your sides, ending between your legs, experimenting with you and trying to lure some sort of reaction out of you. Perhaps a tad bit too harsh you swat his adorned hand away, chuckling at his failed attempt: "This area is off limits, Trafalgar. At least for now."

Law likes how bossy you can be, though you remind him rather more of an angered kitten, instead of a powerful lioness. A strange comparison, if given some thought to it.

Palming both of his thighs, you watch how he keeps on jerking off in front of you, curling your lips at him. That sneeky expression you muster, overflows him with hunger. What are you up to now? You get on your knees and draw small circles on his legs with your thumbs, granting him slight comfort. The hand stopped pumping once more, but didn't undock from his throbbing shaft. Law narrows his gaze down at you, the usually cold now softened into mellow eyes, following your every move.

Oh, he knows what comes next and it's something he might have dreamed about, once or twice. "My love, you're in the way. I'm not able to treat you properly, if you hold onto your most delicate part like this.", you jestingly purr at him while biting one of his fingers, which is wrapped around his hard on. Your hot breath fans over his lower abdomen as you tug on his digit ever so gently. It's not just Law, who is all needy and filled with laschiviousness apparently.

"I'm afraid I cannot let my guard down around you so easily. Yet, you're tempting offer is hard to decline, so . . " he allows you access to what you long for, awaitingly observing how you lower yourself on him. The tease that you are, pecks his tip tantalizingly, gathering the excess precum on your lips.

Unintentionally, the doctor holds his breath, concentrating on the plushness, that is about to engulf him completely. With utmost care, your tongue gives his red bulb preliminary kitten licks, earning a long supressed deep whimper from the man, already giving in to your tenderness.

His tip slides further into your mouth, your lips now enveloping around the rim of the head. Down and down you go, painstakingly slow and sensual, making Law genuinely lose his mind. How you deliciously coat his dick with your saliva, naughty sounds emitting from your tongue as you begin to move. Not certain if you heard correctly, but you think you perceived a breathy and long drawn out 'Fuck', for his air intake falters from weakness.

Supporting his posture with one hand propped on the examination table, the other one hooks into your hair, the grip firm yet gentle, attentive to your limit. From utter bliss, Law's jaw slacks and his head rolls from side to side and back, his grunts muffled in cause of his lips being bitten down to. He doesn't dare to open his eyes, however it's the god damn curiousity in him, urging him to fully witness the display of pure lust and desire towards him.

And there he sees you, affectionately letting your lips and tongue dance over his cock. "Call me orthodox, but god's forbid you're gorgeous.", he mutters, faint moans escaping him in between words. Your hand runs down your own body, coming to a stop at your core. The mischevious and knowing glint in your eyes warns the Captain that you're about to unleash something far more greater. Oblivious to the upcoming, Law looks at you with confusion apparent on his face.

Thus your index and middle finger swirl around your damp pearl, your moans increasing in volume with each stroke, wanting to prove how desperatly you need him. Your true intentions to all this, fading for a fleeting moment. Despite his lower sounds of contentment, his groans sync up with yours, incapable of holding in. Each time your pleasure emits out of you in form of vibration around his errection, he can't help but to return the harmonious favor.

Knowing how vocalisations are triggering the pleasure center, if his medical knowledge doesn't abandon him, who is he to deny you this luxury to you. For what he heard about you, enthusing his voice in all excitement, whenever he simply spoke to you, there is nothing better than to grant you that wish of hearing him yield to you, to make you feel wanted, truly loved.

You need more. Law's dick hits the back of your throat, making you gag and tears begin well up, threatening to flow down your cheeks. It couldn't get any better than this, he thinks to himself. Carefully tucking stray strands of hair away from your face, he gathers your h/c coloured locks in his fist to take a better look at you, as you suck him off so engagingly.

Lower and lower your lips go, your nose hitting his abdomen with every take. The man's hips begin to buck up against you, overwhelmed with the sensation. In ecstasy he asks you, small whimpers interrupting his train of thoughts now and then: "You want me to reach the end so desperately?" With a distinct pop, your mouth detatches from his soaked length, throbbing from the abandonment. Your lover's question tickles you. Again, you go for the next level and grab around his shaft: "I want see how you look like with your seed spread all over your delectable abs, darling."

Now pumping his cock, you watch how Law melts by your touch. This is a different kind of pleasure, however he isn't opposed to it, not at all. The welcoming shiver over his whole body signalises him that it doesn't take long for him to climax. By the way you look at him, your sweet moans, it's fogging up his mind to it's entirety.

Still, it's not enough and you command him to propperly lay down on the examination table. Without complaints, he heaves himself onto it with ease and you're quick to follow, taking a seat on his lap, straddling him. Unable to resist, his fingers dig into your love handles and you lean down to level with his face, soaking in this handsome man's warmth.

Your labia teasingly glides along his length. What matter of a sadistic woman are you? This sets Law's body aflame. About to adjust your position and prod his aching dick against your entrance, you keenly deny the indirect query. A meak whimper resounds from the man below you, as you nibble on his collarbone. He's at his limit.

Law must release the tension, he wants to fill you up to the brim so badly and you dare refuse? However, your hips begin to grind, glazing your essence onto his member. As if it's magic, his inward complaints disperse into thin air. The squelching sounds animate him to mirror your movement and he drags his tip over your clit. Drunk with desire, he listens how you chant his name. All pent and riled up, he only wants ravish you. Possessed by his male instinct, he grabs you by your chin to face him and intertwines with your lips. The kisses are sloppy and fervent as the both of you rub up against eachother, leaving you a moaning mess.

As he takes back from your lucious cherry skin, he muses: "You vixen. I'm about to lose it." - "Then allow me." It is not just him, who is about to blow. Straightening your back, you're able to hasten your movements, the friction growing unbearabley pleasurable. In addition, you wetten your fingers to again tease your clit in the process.

Lazily, your pussy wraps around Law's shaft, it's pumping turning you on and on. "Fuck (Y/n), don't stop.", he groans at you uncharacteristically, observing how your body begins to quake. The Captain's not far behind, with every thrust, the knot in his stomach grows bigger, ready to shoot.

It is the sultry tone in his almost broken voice, that does it for you. Oh, how you find him alluring, it is beyond you. Your orgasm rushes over you like a powerful wave, the build up was quick, but the output was far greater than expected. Together with your passionate groans and sighs of relief, Trafalgar praises you softly: "Yes sweetheart, oh god yes, cum for me." Gushed out fluids spread over his hardness, which throbs strongly in response.

Trembling, your body dwindles, legs violently shaking from your high, still pleasuring your beloved, tenaciously holding out for Law's finale. Sweat trickles down your skin and the love juices stick to your thighs, the wetness squelching with every move you make. To the Captain, this moment could last forever. You riding him, all spent and delirious, lovingly smiling at him in total bliss.

Without question, you are adorable, it crosses his mind very frequently. So much so, that he considers to ask you a rather intimate matter, after all this 'treatment talk'.

His hand reaches for your sternum, running up and down your chest and stomach, admiring your beauty. Not expecting another nibble session, your lips attach on his finger again and he intently stares at how you seductively lick his embellished fingers and backhand: "Handsome devil, give me more. Show me how much you like the remedy." These ambigious words leave you in needy whimpers and mewls, looking at your flame with love and captivation.

That's it. Law squeezes his eyes shut, your name falling out of him in overwhelm and haziness. It is approved, 'dirty talk' is indeed a giant indicator for the pleasure center. His hips buck at you unrhythmicaly, the sound of skin slapping on skin echoing through the infirmary's thin walls, however the doctor's unexpected pornographic moan beats every noise reverbarating in the room.

The man's climax paints his stomach white, his seed running down his sides. Weary huffs and curses muffle into your neck, as you lay on top of him, nuzzling your cheek against his, affectionately riding along his orgasm.

It takes a moment for the both of you to come back to your senses. For a reason, Law cannot quite fathom, you abruptly get off his lap and rush to your pant pocket, searching for something unbeknownst to the doctor. "What in the-", before he can end his utter disbelief, you're back on his lap again and place your hand on his arm.

An object pokes his skin, which you press against him, feeling weak out of the sudden. Hold on. That seems oddly familiar. Sea stone? There is no way to get out of your grasp or even move an inch. Shock plasters his expression and you grin sweetly, owing him an 'explanation': "Let me finally give you a taste of your own medidicine." - "What are you scheming you-"

Finally, you are able to give him what you believe to be of his earning. The sole issue - if he’s able to ‘shamble’ himself out of this, presumably he’d call it a mess, he most certainly won’t hesitate to do so. Hence, sea stone, to make your malevolence truly worth your while.

With your fingers, you gather the white fluid off his belly and prompt him to open his mouth. Complaints and swears come flying at you, nonetheless you chose to ignore them and hint your doctor to better do as told, or else this stone won't find it's way back to sea, ending up as his new accessory. Only obliging your demand in pure spite, he gives your digits a long sweep with his tongue, staring at you with those cold steel eyes, brows knitted in an irritated manner. "See? Wasn't so bad. Same time tomorrow, dear patient?", how you love the sweet taste of revenge, but you must admit to yourself, the scene playing before you is quite errotic, feeling that similar heat, that faded only moments ago, rising up in your body again.

Semen flows down his chin, the goatee catching it before it’s about to drip further down. Oddly enough, anger and aggrevation aside, you recognise a trace of shame and arousal in his expression, cheeks flushed to the faintest. Is he actually enjoying this? “Oh Trafalgar, didn’t know you had a thing for-“ - “If you earnestly think I take pleasure in consuming my own ejaculation, you’re severely mistaken . .”, you muse at Law, who barks at you through tongue twirls and breathy swallows.

After a few laps and strangled gulps, victory swells your chest in pride and you rid the stone of his arm. Oh what a mistake. Immediately after you put that rocky item away, strong arms turn you around onto your tummy, harshly lifting up your ass and calloused fingers spread your slightly pinkish cheeks. Law’s threatening shadow towers behind you: "Let me refresh your memory, my heart. I call the shots around here. And that little placebo of yours? Hate to break it to you, but I just bursted that delirious bubble.", he growls at you huskily, while leaning next to your ear from the back.

The drama queen that he is, positions himself at your entrance, his errection already up for more and his lips curl menacingly by the view: "Let me perscribe you some more."

For the future you took a mental note: “Leave the treating of patients to the professionals.” He made sure it is thoroughly burnt into your bratty head.

#one piece #one piece smut #one piece oneshots #one piece law #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar d water law #law x female reader #x reader #law x fem!reader #law x y/n #fanfiction #one shot #oneshot #+18 #+18 content #+18 blog #mdni #smut

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thefirstknife · 10 months

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I think the reason people are saying that scene should have been in Lightfall's campaign is because it's so incredibly vital to the story and anybody who isn't around for, can't afford, or skips seasonal content is missing such a hugely important scene. Which is actually a fair criticism of the entire seasonal model, which makes the game a lot less accessible for new players unless they're capable of doing hours of research and sitting around watching videos to get the story (which, for a *game* people do for fun is a lot to ask and a large turnoff for a fair few people). I agree that as is, the scene wouldn't have fit in the expansion we actually got--but I can see the complaint that they should have structured the campaign in a way that included this information. (Though some people are being very rude in how they give the criticism)

Yeah, I agree with that. I think a better way to go about it is to continuously ask for a way to preserve seasonal content (at least some of it) in the game. As of right now, a lot of some of the most crucial events in the game happened in seasons that can no longer be played and can only be viewed online. Bungie even started uploading all seasonal content officially to their youtube for people to be able to see, but that just makes us go back to the days of D1 where crucial lore was online instead of the game. Obviously in this case, a whole seasonal story mission with cutscenes is probably harder to keep in the game than lore tabs but you know.

A really good way would be to make use of the in-game timeline feature and expand on it. Make the timeline more in-depth, add more menus so that you can click to see more about a season and have menus that allow you to access and rewatch seasonal cutscenes and officially made summaries done with the in-game engine (something like the summary made as an intro to the Season of the Deep). Summarise a season with more information and let us rewatch cutscenes as a part of the timeline feature.

Best case scenario would be to grab most important seasonal gameplay missions, pack them into mini replayable missions and drop them in a Legends tab where people can go to check out past content and replay it themselves. This doesn't have the involve the full seasonal content obviously, because the seasonal activities and environments are gone, but a lot of those were not open world instances anyway. Saving Saint is entirely in a separate environment.

Obviously, all of this is a lot of work and, depending on the engine and other issues, may not even be possible. At least not right now. It would be nice though, especially the second option.

For now, I think we'll be stuck with youtube-only content which isn't the worst, but it's definitely inaccessible and it's not ideal. I'm sure that Bungie will keep the summary of this knowledge in the same way they summarised a lot of other stuff recently as intros to campaigns and seasons. Hell, TFS teaser included a summary of the last few years of the story and that was 40 seconds long. They will not just like... completely forget to mention this ever again.

Definitely the best thing would be to make sure that this cutscene will be viewable in-game. I hope that at some point they'll make this possible. It's the core issue of this whole problem and I wish people focused on that instead of saying that this should've just been a part of the campaign or that it would've "fixed" all of Lightfall when that's simply not true and also would not make sense. But do I wish for this cutscene to remain in the game forever? Absolutely. We desperately need the timeline feature to actually offer a substantial look at the timeline and content of past seasons, including cutscenes.

#destiny 2 #ask #long post #my other issue is that a lot of people who complain about cutscenes being gone are the people who don't watch them at all #how many people skip cutscenes and play without caring about the story?#I know there's a lot of people jumping on this train simply because it's negative #obviously not everyone and the criticism is still legitimate; we should be able to keep cutscenes like this forever #but the criticism gets muddied and hijacked in this situation a lot unfortunately

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pockysquirrel · 2 months

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You have in fact been saved from having to think about our beloved nemesis Inoue because I just remembered something older:

Hongo/Ichimonji, OG and Shin versions, compare and contrast? (And any other versions you happen to have encountered)

(Also totally agree Kaguragi-shipping contains unexplored possibilities, as much as I love his backstabbing games with Racles. Himeno, Rita and Jeramie would all be very strong dynamics)

(I'm glad you're doing this ask thing because it's fun chatting to you, disabled replies etc (which to be clear--very sensible in this hell world) would normally mean bombarding you with more asks would be the only way of directly replying haha)

OH MAN I AM FAILING AT TUMBLR

I read this and couldn't figure out why you couldn't reply...the problem was, evidently, we weren't mutuals. Do I know why? Nope. 🤦 Anyway, fixed that and adjusted my settings, because I do like replies, just not from randos.

ANYWAY!

All forms of Hongo/Ichimonji are valid and good! It makes sense and I am compelled by it! I am QUITE compelled by it. But you asked for more analysis and I can't do that while actively drooling, so let's mop up and proceed.

The KR71 version of the pairing, true originators of love in the 1970s, are one of those ships (and these are among my favorite kinds) that gives you a lot to think about in relatively little content. It's not often you get both Riders in the same place at the same time, but when you do, it instantly feels like a big deal. Obviously because it signals that the stakes are rising in the story, but also because, IMO, of the chemistry they have with each other. I point out the coin flip scene in the Sakurajima arc as an obvious example, but there are more.

Then I found out they have a canonical telepathic bond and basically catapulted into full fandom mode. There really are few things more intimate than the ability to touch minds.

And speaking of the types of weird intimacy you can only find in genre fiction, I must of course mention the manga, and one page thereof that has lived rent-free in my brain since the day I read it. The characterization is different here - for Ichimonji in particular - and it affects how they relate to each other in a way I don't care for as much. But come on. These guys got to share a body! Their minds joined together, all of their senses experienced as one! And that's incredibly sexy! (I wrote fic about that. And it takes A Lot for me to be into something enough to surpass my hangups and write smut.)

Which brings me to Shin, and the literal flailing meltdown I had in the movie theater when I saw my favorite manga page replicated in exact detail. These poor guys. They both wear their emotional wounds much more openly than their 71 counterparts, but they are also much more visibly healed by each other. This version I think offers the best example of how much of a relief it can be to find someone who shares your experiences, your pain, and to realize you aren't alone.

I love Shin KR dearly, wouldn't change a thing, so this is much more me lamenting the constraints of a feature film format than it is an actual complaint. I wish we had more time to see the Double Riders getting to know each other. But hey, that leaves plenty of room for fic, and I am more than good with that.

I've seen First/Next twice now and my brain still tries to pretend those movies don't exist most of the time. We'll leave it at that.

#ship it #ship it good #this is a lot of words #probably one of those topics i could have written an actual term paper on if i were still in my 20s #but im not so you'll have to settle for brainspew #seriously thank you for asking me this #kamen rider #kamen rider 1971 #shin kamen rider #do these guys have a ship tag?#fuck it we ball

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henry1986 · 5 months

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Guiding (Gale x Tav)

This is my first ever Tumblr post after years of lurking. I wanted to format it differently, but it's been so long so I've written anything that I can't get back into my ao3 account, so here we are. (BleuHenri on there, btw. Wrote a kickass Labyrinth fanfic some years ago now).

This may be the only thing I write or share, but something in me has been longing to share fic again after so long. Had a shitty relationship that crushed my spirit so I stopped doing anything that brought me joy...you know how it be. Now I'm super happy and adjusted to life and letting my old self come back.

The TLDR: Random oneshot about Gale and my named Tav (Fits) from Baldur's Gate because this game is insanely amazing and I fucking love Gale and I love my little oc Fits (urchin tiefling druid who named himself 'Fits' with an s because he just wants to belong).

Summary: Fits doesn't do well with the unknown. So being blinded by a spell in the middle of a battle is not his ideal situation. Cue panic attack, and cue the voice of a certain adorable wizard he's been flirting with for weeks now. Gale to the rescue!

Story Below:

It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye. Dry and rot, what he wouldn’t give to be a child once more, laughing off his mother’s cautions with the arrogance of youth. His current situation is neither fun nor remotely game-like, so it seems unfair that he still has to suffer the drawbacks. Today one of Fits’ few childhood memories has come back to bite him in the tail.

He’s probably going to murder Volo if they make it out of this mess.

But who is more the fool, he wonders briefly, the one with the ice pick or the one offering himself up like needlepoint? Either way he knows it’s not fair to blame the bard. Mistakes have been made, his party has been ambushed by bandits, and now he can’t see a godsdamned thing, false eye or no. Where just minutes ago his sharp tiefling vision would catch movement in any shadow, now he sees nothing but black. And what’s worse, his companions seem not to have noticed. Well, that’s his fault for breaking formation and getting separated. Stupid, stubborn rock that he is. And now that stubbornness has cost him his sight – possibly even his life.

The sounds of the battle thrash his ears, now sensitive in compensation. Somewhere to the left Karlach’s grunts mix with the dull thud of hammer on shield. The bandits shriek and curse and scream and…gargle? Perhaps that one has just met Astarion’s fangs. It would serve them right for thinking to rob a half-starved group of exhausted travellers. The thought of Gale’s stew simmering back at camp has been on everyone’s minds during the long trek back. To be delayed further has no doubt pissed them off to no end.

“Desperados and cutthroats I don’t mind, but why did we have to find the only bandits clever enough to find a mage to fight for them?” Karlach had lamented as their attackers had unleashed their secret weapon. Gale had snorted, deriding the man in torn robes as nothing more than a charlatan with a few spell scrolls on hand.

The origin of the magic is a moot point – it hasn’t made Fits any less blind. And now he’s wondering if he should call for help, or if that will alert nearby enemies, and just what is he supposed to do? His mouth is dry as a creek bed in summer. His tail flicks an anxious metronome. The not knowing has always been his undoing. Fits is no stranger to pain and loss, same as many others. If there’s a burden that needs shouldering, he’ll take the weight with few complaints. But the not knowing…the archer he’d seen earlier might still be perched atop that rocky outcrop, not yet aware of his advantage on the blinded druid. Or he might already know, and there are precious few seconds left to find shelter. He might be knocking a fresh arrow right now, as Fits stumbles backwards over a rock and hits the ground. He might be lining him up in his sights as Fits grasps desperately around for anything to use as a shield, for a tree to hide behind, for his dropped staff or –

He’s a child again, youthful arrogance snuffed to embers, no longer lucky enough to have parents to caution him. The streets are filthy and bustling, danger lurking in the shadows. He’s small, so small in this big city with no idea of where to go or around which corner the next beating will take place –

Sounds blur into a single crushing weight, ringing in his ears. His breathing is fast as a swallow bursting from its nest, like a thousand swallows in a thousand nests trying to fly free all at the same time. Usually so dextrous, his stiff hands curl in on themselves like gnarled trees aged by time. Hopelessly he drags one numb hand across his face, risking damage to his good eye by rubbing at it so viciously, desperate to make it see, please just see…

Someone’s gentle hand stills his movements.

“Come on now, no need for that. Just breathe,” someone says, prying fingers away from his face. And then three words to change everything: “I’ve got you.”

The voice is fixed with the luxury of knowing – of always knowing – and tempered by reassurance. It’s so familiar his heart leaps into his throat. Relief douses his panic so violently it’s difficult not to collapse with the intensity of it. The city streets and their thugs are cast out of mind, thrown back to the recesses of memory to haunt another day. “Gale. I...my – eyes.” The words won’t come. They’re still struggling against the tide of his laboured breathing. Through the numbness in his hands he feels the barest hint of warmth; Gale’s fingers do not stray from his, lending him strength.

“Ah, so your hearing is still keen as ever, good to know. Though how you can hear anything over the utter racket Karlach is making, I don’t know. Honestly, get between a barbarian and her next meal and may the gods protect you…”

Fits doesn’t hear the rest of the wizard’s rambling. I’ve got you. Has anyone ever said that to him in his life? Surely his parents must have at some point. There must have been a moment where he existed not as an urchin to be kicked but as a child that belonged to someone. If ever that time was, he doesn’t recall it. I’ve got you. It’s difficult with legs that feel like dead weight but he manages to climb to his feet and throw his arms around Gale. Grace is not his strong point in this moment. Gale catches him with a gently breathed ‘ooph’ as Fits bumps into different bits of him all at once.

Everything is intensified in his blindness: the pressure of Gale’s hands slipping around his waist to keep them upright, the pulsing scent of their mingled sweat and the tang of blood that speaks of fresh injury. “You’re hurt.” His fingers stumble along Gale’s arm and find a tear in the fabric. The skin beneath is slick with blood, coating his gently probing fingers.

“How in the hells did you know that? You’re blinder than the proverbial bat.” Gale sounds as if he’s trying very hard to sound amused. Fits hasn’t missed the sharp breaths that begin and end his question, a parenthesis of doubt.

“Your blood…smells strange. Different.” He inhales both to calm himself and to further investigate Gale’s scent. Fascinating.

“Ah. That would be the orb’s influence. Let me assure you, in normal circumstances my blood is indistinguishable from any others’. I’m sorry if the odour offends your sensitive nose.”

“I said it was different, not bad.” The sounds of the fight flicker and die for the briefest moment as they stand together. Gale’s hands flutter around his back before settling on a place below his shoulder blades. His fingertips meet at the spine and stay there with gentle pressure. So decisive. He wonders if the man has ever been unsure of anything in his life. What that must feel like… “I didn’t think anyone saw me go down,” Fits murmurs against the starched collar of Gale’s robes. The smell of him is grounding, chasing away his panic. “I cursed my own stupidity for straying so far off.”

“Yes – well. I admit I did question the intelligence of your decision to pursue that ‘mage’ –” he spits the word out with scorn – “On your own. And good thing I kept an eye out for you, too. I saw the spell hit you and I thought...” His voice lilts with care, stepping over the words as though they themselves are creatures to be soothed. “I know you don’t do well with the unknown. I didn’t think you’d much care for blindness.”

Fits’ anxiety has become no secret to the wizard in the last few weeks. He’s never been more grateful to have such a confidant. Especially when a hail of somethings whizz right by, spraying around them like deadly rain, and he feels the warmth of Gale’s magic envelop them both in a shield. It’s like stepping into honeyed sunlight from a cool spring shadow. His skin prickles. He can feel it even after they’ve stepped apart. Gale’s magic always feels so different to his own.

“Will you two stop flirting for one gods-damned minute and do something useful?!”

Fits winces at Astarion’s tone. Usually, the elf takes great delight in watching the two of them dance awkwardly around each other. Apparently his patience only stretches so far on long days. Fits shakes the moment off, refusing to imagine a lovely blush on Gale’s cheeks when he hears the man cough pointedly. It’s difficult to focus with nothing to visually keep his attention, but he figures they should probably start helping.

“I don’t suppose you could be my seeing-eye wizard until this spell wears off?” he asks lightly, amazed at the recovery of his confidence.

“It would be my absolute pleasure,” Gale replies.

Fits can hear the curved edges of his smile. When they clasp hands, it feels as if for the first time – every ridge and dip of Gale’s palm is treasured new information. He catalogues the placement of each ring on the man’s fingers, evaluates the silver clang of them against his own single allowance of metal: his mother’s ring. Their hands sway as Gale swoops down momentarily with a soft grunt – his knees often protest such actions – and then he returns the precious weight of Fits’ staff to his free hand. With that the last of his anxiety pools to dull thunder in the back of his head, and they get to work.

When the last bandit collapses to the ground a short time later, Karlach’s triumphant call for dinner is echoed back by all. They trudge back to camp, tired but enthusiastic. Astarion asks if there’s any of that half-decent wine still left. Usually this leads to a quick but snarky conversation between him and Gale. ‘If you took any interest in maintaining the camp supplies, you’d know the answer to that.’ ‘But you do such a fine job of it darling, I’d simply mess it up if I tried to help.’ ‘That sounds awfully familiar to your arguments against chopping firewood and washing dishes.’ ‘But true nonetheless.’ They say no such things tonight. Gale’s thumb brushes Fits’ and he tells Astarion in a distracted voice that yes there might be some left, certainly, he’d have a look.

They find a comfortable alignment on the path back, Fits trusting the wizard to guide him. Each time the party changes direction or pauses to scout, Gale murmurs a soft instruction. It’s an experience that would have been terrifying for him at most other times in his life. He’s never completely given himself over to the care of someone else, let alone someone he’s known so short a time. But Gale is different. They’ve been friends from the moment Fits pulled him out of that portal. And now…well, Gale warns him about rocks in the path and at one point helps him climb a fallen log. The sensation of straddling the tree with Gale’s voice so close in his ear – “That’s it, up you go, just like that –” does things to his insides that are better left for late night contemplation.

Eventually his vision returns, the comforting greens of nature a welcome sight, Lae’zel’s torchlight too bright for his sensitive eye - the one that hasn't been gouged out by an ice pick. Yet for all his relief he somehow feels a pang of loss, like the unravelling of a well-kept secret between two people. So as his eyes readjust Fits says nothing, enjoying the feel of Gale’s fingers jostling his in their loose grip, walking along in silence. If Gale notices at some point the druid’s steps become more confident, his pace not at all like that of a man still blinded…well. He doesn’t say anything, and they don’t stop holding hands the whole way back to camp.

#bg3 oc #baldurs gate 3 #gale baldurs gate 3 #my tav #tav bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #gale dekarios

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vespersposts · 1 year

Text

Babe

We all know that Daiki hates vegetables, but if you're the one cooking them, that's okay too. 🍅🥦🥕

For this story, I wanted to play a little bit with the theme of expressing your feelings: some people are naturally inclined to share their thoughts, and some people struggle a little bit more, and maybe Valentine's Day is a good opportunity to take an extra step. 💙

I hope you enjoy it,

Vesper

You have known each other for a long time, but sometimes you still wonder what’s going on in his head.

Especially when he is so quiet and silent.

Today, however, the situation is worse than usual, as he has even offered to help you with the houseworks, without specifying the details of his reward.

The main event is to clean up the black hole he calls the 'drawer of my basketball stuff'.

Daiki's not messy, he's just lazy: he doesn't take the trouble to fold his shirts, uniforms, shorts or hang up his socks but he gets upset when he can't find what he wants to wear, especially if it's for practice or a game. He will chase you around the house yelping like a hungry puppy until you, exhausted by his complaints, plunge your magical hands into that pandemonium of technical clothing and pull out what he wants; each time arousing his amazement and unleashing an exaggerated gratitude that is both sincere and mischievous.

But today is different.

You can tell by the way he follows your instructions without distraction, you can see it in the way he meticulously folds his clothes and places his terry socks in the compartments. He doesn't complain, he doesn't find an excuse to go for his phone, he doesn’t try to lift you and throw you on the bed, claiming a sudden dizziness because of the little attention you're giving him.

He behaves well, very well, that's why you have mixed feelings.

"Are you in the mood for something different for dinner tonight ?" you ask, turning your eyes to his, busy trying to figure out if the arm bands he holds in his hands are the same colour or not.

"Your choice babe, I'm up for anything!" he replies with a smile.

"Veggie burgers and mashed potatoes?" you offer, aware of the avalanche of complaints that will soon overwhelm you. Veggies are a forbidden, dark spell in his vocabulary, especially since it was your revelation that chips are not real food, let alone vegetables.

Daiki blinks and returns your hug, running his big hand down your back before leaning in for a chaste, lip-smacking kiss.

" All right babe, gonna eat veggies if it makes you happy ! " he sighs, shrugging his shoulders in a surrender that is as easy as it is suspicious.

You tie your hair up in a ponytail, wash your hands, open the big fridge in the kitchen, arrange carrots, celery, onions, cabbage and shiitake mushrooms on the chopping board and sigh. From the kitchen window, your gaze falls on the pedestrian street where, under the yellowish light of street lamps, you see many people enjoying the cold, clear evening. They walk slowly, hand in hand, flowers and presents swinging from their arms. Some are posing romantically in front of the large maple tree, others are exchanging shy glances, while scattered singles are looking around nervously, sure that someone exciting, their beloved maybe, will suddenly appear around the corner. All that love frenzy for no apparent reason, as if Cupid himself was shooting arrows at them or there was a virulent epidemic of romance in the air.

Only then you realise what a day it is,above all you realise that you have not prepared or bought anything for him. Valentine's day was about to slip through your fingers, caught up as you were running from one end of your life to the other, trying to carve out a few hours just for the two of you. Hours you wasted cleaning your house, teaching him the useless art of folding clothes and matching socks, instead of celebrating what you achieved in your relationship. You should have told him how happy you were to turn your head and find him beside you, buy a sweet treat to share, or at least dress in something nicer than an old cartoon hoodie and leggings. Small signs of care, so unusual to someone as independent as you, but that instead came so easy from him, who isn't the best at speeches, but who affirms his feelings every day through small gestures addressed to you and you only.

You look at the ceramic bowl full of the tangerines he peeled without even asking, because he knows how much you like them; but he also knows how much the smell of orange oil on your fingers annoys you. You touch their firm slices, the white veins, the cold white surface of the bowl, lost in your thought until you sense his figure behind your back. You feel the warmth of his large frame, the good smell of his skin, his strong arms sliding around your waist, his chin resting on your head, his hands lazily caressing your womb and hips until he feels you relax against his chest.

" I forgot it’s Valentine's day" you admit, earning an amused chuckle behind your shoulders "It just slipped off my mind" you repeat, almost horrified at your own alleged negligence.

" Are you apologising for forgetting a sappy commercial festivity ?" the boy's voice adds ironically, then closes his lips on your head, on your temple, turning you gently around to look into his eyes to put your guilt at rest for good “Who cares, babe” he concludes, caressing your nape with his long fingers .

"I'm so sorry, Daiki, I didn't mean to" you confess, lowering your eyes and feeling your body wrapped by his broad shoulders, his arms holding you tightly, his nose bumping into yours just to give you a fleeting eye contact before closing your mouth with his, chasing away those bitter, meaningless words. You feel his warm hand on the back of your spine, his knee slipping mischievously between your legs, his lips leaving yours only for the time of those words.

"Let me make it simple: as long as I have you, fuck Valentine's Day! " he exclaims, shifting the attention of his incredible eyes from yours to a spot on your neck which he first rubs with his thumb and then closes between his lips, determined to give you an everlasting memory of the night. You try to answer, but all he wants is to know that you will give in. You feel your body go soft, almost liquid, under the touch of his fingers. You call his name and he moans in response, pressing you against the kitchen counter, stopping his love attack as breathless words escape your lips: "I love you with all my heart".

You can almost feel him shiver, you can see him blink, his eyes get a little moist and he looks at you with genuine astonishment, for you are rarely so brave in expressing your feelings. He smiles at you and brings his lips to yours for a second, enjoying yet another provocation he can't seem to let go of. "That’s quite a gift, babe, let me return the favour " he adds, making you sit down on the kitchen counter to thank you, peppering your smiling face with little kisses until you, bothered by all the senseless sweetness, push him away with a gentle shove.

"You’re so annoying! " you giggle, as you get some more kisses and a new set of teases. “But still, you love me with all your heart!” he fondly corrects you, caressing your cheek with his long fingers, bringing his lips close to your earlobe, never taking his mischievous gaze from your eyes.

“I definitely do” you nod, eliciting an amused look.

You bend your head towards him, letting your cheekbone rest against his skin, breathing his breath, tightening your lips, preparing yourself for the most sensual of offers, which is not long in coming.

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