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depravitycentral · 5 months

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Yandere! Gyutaro NSFW Profile

Yandere! Gyutaro x fem! reader

Tw: non-con, dub-con, stalking, kidnapping, Gyutaro threatens a couple to let him watch them have sex, exhibitionism, masturbation, period sex, spitting, minor implications of somnophilia, mentions of physical violence, threats, murder, Gyutaro is a freak and likes to hold your hand during sex, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 13K

HABITS:

Generally speaking, Gyutaro has never really touched himself. Perhaps when he was younger, still a human and going through puberty, but for the vast, vast majority of Gyutaro’s life, his demon biology has rendered every sexual urge he feels dulled to the point of disappearing.

That said, he’s still able to grow jealous at hearing when human partners are intimate with one another, their moans and cries grating on his ears and making him scowl, anger simmering in his veins because why can’t he have that?

Sure, he could find some random human woman and take what he wants from her, but there’s something about the way humans clutch onto one another, moaning out praises and begging for more that enticing Gyutaro, making him feel shy and bashful and pissed because he knows that will never be him. He’ll never have a woman gasping his name in anything other than fear, and although he’s accepted it, he’s wildly jealous.

However, because his actual sexual urges themselves are diminished, Gyutaro more often finds himself jealous than horny – a stark difference between the two. And consequently, he has minimal experience with masturbation, and he frankly doesn’t care. His logistical situation with Daki makes finding the time to touch himself in his own private space extremely difficult. Plus, there’s something awfully pitiful about wrapping his fingers around his cock with the knowledge that they’ll only ever be his fingers, no one else’s – something that makes him warble and scratch himself bloody, effectively killing any libido he’d managed to feel.

But with all of that said, things begin changing once his infatuation with you develops. He’s not immediately wishing to fuck you, but as Gyutaro becomes more comfortable with the idea of intimacy with you, lewd thoughts start tainting the edges of his mind, turning the relatively innocent fantasy of cuddling with you into grinding against your ass, grasping your thigh and lifting it up just barely so that he can slot himself inside, breathing hard into your ear and growling, the sound throaty and heady and so very needy.

And really, is that so unnatural?

Sure, his libido isn’t the strongest, but imagining the woman he thinks he’s in love with to be naked and laid out underneath him isn’t out of the ordinary, right?

He’s sure all men think about the depraved thoughts that start worming their way into his imagination – they’re mostly questions, really, tying into his obsessiveness and desperation to learn as much about you as he possibly can.

He’s idly wondering how you sound when you moan – is it airy, high-pitched, low, gasping?

How do you look when you come? Does your face scrunch up, does your mouth drop open, do you close your eyes, does your back arch, do you curl your toes, do you reach out and grasp at anything you can find?

What’s your favorite position? He’d be willing to try all of them if you’d like, if you’re unsure – Gyutaro secretly thinks his own favorite will be having you on top, your pretty tits mere inches from his lips and giving him a perfect view of both your own face and your cunt sucking him in again and again and again, the sight making him dizzy with pleasure and forcing him to grasp your hips and fuck up into you, just to hear you gasp and moan and scream his name.

Have you ever squirted? He hopes no man has ever touched you at all, much less made you squirt, but Gyutaro swears he’ll get you to do it – he wants to feel your release all over his face, coating his fingers, tongue, chin, and cock, smeared across every inch of his skin and worn proudly.

Do you like to be praised or degraded, and do you like your lovers vocal? Gyutaro sure hopes so, because he knows he won’t be able to shut up when he’s buried balls deep inside you, your wet, warm, tight walls clenching down on him and forcing curse after groans out of him, practically milking him for both his cum and his moans. He wouldn’t mind praising or degrading you – what naturally slips out of his mouth when he’s fucking his fist is a healthy mix of both, imagining you in front of him and calling you my perfect slut or something of the sort.

Do you groom yourself, keeping everything perfectly smooth and shaved, or do you let nature takes its course? He hopes it’s the latter – he wants to relish in your scent, to bury his face between your legs and inhale deeply, getting a nose full of you, something made much easier when your hair and pheromones are tickling his cheeks.

(While he prefers you to not shave, Gyutaro himself will try to clean himself up routinely – starting way before he steals you away, just so that he can learn how to do it, to make sure he knows how to so that he doesn’t embarrass himself the first time you see him naked. The thought already embarrasses him enough – to have his body open to your scrutiny, to feel you looking at him, and he really doesn’t need the extra stress. Luckily for him, his quick regeneration means no accidental knicks with the razor knife last long – unfortunately, it also means that any cut hair regrows almost instantaneously, much to his displeasure. He’s hopeful you won’t be too disgusted by his pubes the first time you see him – though the dark hairs do a good job of framing the very, very long cock hanging between his legs.)

Quite honestly, he stalks you with such intensity and consistency that he’ll know the answer to many of these questions before long – he's memorized how you look when you come, your face ingrained into his brain and flashing behind his eyelids when he’s orgasming himself. But it’s different to be thinking about something like that – something so naughty. Gyutaro spends his time idly wondering these questions, a pale pink blooming on his cheeks because it’s just so dirty and you’re so very sweet, and thinking of you in such a lewd light almost makes him feel guilty.

Almost, because then he sees you, hiding from the shadows and getting the smallest whiff of your scent every few seconds, and then suddenly all guilt is gone because fuck, he needs you.

However, Gyutaro is still oddly shy about certain things with you. As such, when he first begins fantasizing about fucking you, there’s that small, annoyingly human part of him that worries if you’ll find him revolting once he’s fully nude in front of you, vulnerable to your facial expressions and any words of negative reaction.

He’s terrified, really, that you’ll find him unattractive or too repulsive to sleep with. He wants you to want him, to need him as he needs you, and if you were to call him ugly, a monster, anything of the sort? Well, it would take the demon a long, long time to recover from such a blow to his heart, old wounds tearing open fresh to endure another bout of pain.

And so, in a panicked and a frantic attempt to avoid any negative criticism from you once your intimate relationship begins, Gyutaro decides that he needs to learn more about actual sex, not just the crude, vulgar words he hears from the human men around him. If he wants to have any hope at making you actually enjoy sex with him (something he desperately, desperately wants), Gyutaro feels that he needs to see the real thing, to observe carefully and take notes.

Luckily, it’s not particularly hard to find a coupling around the Entertainment District, sneaking across roofs and peeking into windows until he hears moans and slapping sounds and sees writhing bodies and smells the musty, acrid odor of sex. And once he does, Gyutaro is quick to step down into the room, his presence casting a shadow against the moonlight and candle light of the room, the couple immediately stopping and staring at him in fear.

Before either person has a chance to scream, Gyutaro’s rushing forward, a hand covering each mouth and a sneer on his face as he tells the man that he’s so lucky, having a pretty woman to fuck every night… show me.

The man’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head underneath Gyutaro’s hand, causing the demon’s sneer to fall into a scowl. He needs to see this couple make love – he needs tips and advice, to see how it really goes. Plus, the woman’s body is somewhat similar to yours – perhaps you have similar spots that feel particularly good, and Gyutaro will take any and every scrap of information and ideas he can in order to make eventual sex with you good.

Anything to get you moaning his name and pulling at his hair and begging him for more.

Let me watch you fuck her, or I’ll kill you both. What’s your choice, huh? Gyutaro holds eye contact with the man, watching him debate, feeling the woman trembling and crying under his other hand.

His eye twitches – damn this man for loving the woman, because his slight hesitation in answering means he doesn’t want Gyutaro to see her nude, vulnerable, exposed, and it’s making Gyutaro imagine someone propositioning him this about you. Violent images of how he’d slaughter and kill whoever was threatening to see you moaning and gasping and naked flash through his mind, making him grit his teeth and press against their mouths harder.

At that, the man frantically nods yes, and Gyutaro snickers. Eh, you bastard, letting me watch you touch your woman? Pathetic, man, pathetic.

He takes his hands off their mouths, bracing himself for any screams, but when none come he smiles – a mean, twisted smile. I want to see everything, you know? Start over, act like I’m not here. I’m just watching, so give me a good show but be natural! I’ll kill you if you’re not natural.

Gyutaro scratches at his chest as he settles back against a wall on the side of the room, watching as the couple shakily sits up. The woman is still crying, but the man cups her cheek in his palm, swallowing hard, before slotting his lips against hers. The woman immediately begins kissing him back, the motions slow and hesitant.

Gyutaro growls, his voice forceful as he tells them to kiss harder, I’ll cut off your lips if you don’t.

That gets the two of them moving faster, the audible wet noises as her tongue slips into his mouth making Gyutaro lick his lips. It’s all too easy to imagine you in the woman’s place and him in the man’s, his hand sitting at your breast just as the man’s is, idly squeezing and playing with her nipple. They spend a few more moments kissing, before the man carefully pushes the woman back, laying her down with her legs spread over, her hands held over her head.

They’re still kissing, and Gyutaro’s hand snakes down to cup at his bulge, the idea of wet noises and hovering over you making his breath short. He’s watching them seemingly without blinking, reaching down past the top hem of his pants and firmly clutching at this balls, squeezing harshly and making him hiss through his teeth as the man shimmeys down, kissing and licking at the woman’s breasts.

She keens, biting her lip and trying to not look at Gyutaro, the man using his thumb and index finger to roll her nipple, pinching and tugging while flicking his tongue over its twin. Gyutaro pulls his hands out of his pants briefly to spit into his palm, hand slithering back into his pants and gripping the base of his cock in a death grip.

He’s painfully hard at this point – the man’s head is suddenly between the woman’s thighs, and Gyutaro’s moving forward before he can even think about, still gripping himself under his pants as he nears the bed, wanting an up-close view of the man’s actions. They both tense at this, but Gyutaro scoffs.

Keep going, yeah? Just needed a better view.

The man swallows but obeys, tongue flicking out to lick a long stripe from her folds up and over her clit, making her sigh. Soon his tongue is flicking out and licking at the small bud, fingers pulling up to expose the area and make access easier. Gyutaro mentally notes that away – he knows women like when men play with their clit, and perhaps you’d be impressed by his knowledge of this, or the way he’ll pull your lips up, just so he can fully see that pretty, throbbing pearl on you.

The man’s free hand moves up to run a few fingers through her folds, his fingers suddenly soaking wet and glistening in the moonlight. Gyutaro licks his lips – god, he wants to taste you so bad, his tastebuds tingling and his mouth literally salivating at the thought of tasting your lips, what’s between your legs, even your tears. Gyutaro’s hand slowly moves up, hand slicked with spit lessening the friction and making him lowly groan. The man slips a finger inside her, the woman’s small moan making the man’s brows twitch together.

Gyutaro’s careful to watch the man’s pacing – his tongue is licking steady, consistent circles over her clit, while his fingers are thrusting slowly, carefully, adding a second finger after a few moments. Would you like the same pacing? Gyutaro’s not sure, but the hand not diligently pumping at his cock beneath his pants mimics the same finger motion as the man, his tongue slipping out to mimic licking small circles. He matches the man’s pace, wide yellow eyes slowly starting to go half-lidded from the pleasure of his fingers wrapped around his girth.

Tell me what feels best, woman.

He’ll snarl, keeping an eye on the way the man tenses up but doesn’t stop his actions. The woman’s flushed, her eyes darting to him before quickly looking away.

When – ah, when he curls his fingers up, fuck, and little circles on – oh! She cuts herself off with a moan, and Gyutaro (irritated that she didn’t finish but too focused on her instructions) repeats the words over and over in his head, modifying the hand motion he’s practicing to closely resemble her descriptions.

His fist moves a bit faster, creating a deft thump motion each time his fingers bump into his navel. The sound of the man fingering the woman is so, so very lewd, too – it’s wet, a squelching noise that makes Gyutaro drool, the idea that you’d be that wet making his throat dry, his hips bucking forward against his fist involuntarily.

Fuck her, now, ngh…

The man gulps, wiping the woman’s slick off of his lips and chin, and Gyutaro feels a particularly large glob of precum dribble from his tip, the extra lubrication making his pleasure just that much sharper.

Start over her.

He instructs as the man moves to hover over her, nodding at the demon’s words and slotting himself between her legs. Gyutaro watches intently as the man grips the base of his cock, aligning his tip with your hole, pushing forward and letting his eyes roll to the back of his head. Gyutaro sucks in a sharp breath – would you feel that good inside? He's sure you would; you’re so pretty and sexy, of course you have the best cunt. He bets it’s incredibly warm, wet enough to leave his cock, navel, and upper thighs coated in no time, and god you’d be so fucking tight, gripping him hard enough to make pulling out of you nearly impossible-

The woman lets out a wanton moan as the man starts moving, the pace immediately fast and bruising. The sound of his balls clapping against her ass fills the room, and Gyutaro pants, his fist moving faster and faster, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. He transitions from moving his arm to thrusting his stationary fist, matching the man’s pacing and imagining it’s you getting fucked, that your cries are the ones ringing in his ears and it’s your pretty tits that are bouncing and jiggling with the force of the thrusts.

From behind – shit, from behind! He instructs, his voice strained with his impending orgasm.

The man listens, pulling out and carefully slipping her over, slipping back inside and listening to the way the woman cries out. Gyutaro’s eyes focus on her breasts as they sway and jiggle – you have a very similar size, and just the thought of him fucking you hard enough to get your tits moving makes his eyes flutter closed for a moment, eyebrows drawing tightly together at the thought.

This sight is even more erotic than the last position – it’s all too easy to imagine it’s him pulling at your hips, smacking his own against your ass again and again, making you feel him so deep, deep enough to get you chanting his name like a fucking prayer. Gyutaro moves forward and uses his free hand to grab the man’s, forcing his fingers into her hair and pushing her face down against the mattress, the new position making the man groan and the woman shudder.

Gyutaro curses, letting go and putting all his effort into fucking his fist to the same tempo, trying to match the man’s perfectly. He wants to fuck you like this, he decides – leaning over you like some sort of animal, mounting you, fucking you in the most raw, animalistic way.

You’d look so damn pretty, and he’s sure your pussy would make wet noises like hers is, your slick dripping down your thighs and your pleas to give you more more more please Gyutaro, need your cum!

Gyutaro gasps hard as cum sprays all along the inside of his pants, his fist slowing to a stop as he rides out his high, eyes half lidded and all sorts of groans and sharp exhales filling the room.

The couple stares, bewildered, unsure of what to do – he’s still fucking her but more gently, and Gyutaro smirks at them, still dazed from the pleasure and the idea of doing this to you. Licking his lips, he climbs onto the windowsill, glancing over his shoulder at them.

I’m coming back tomorrow night. He stares at the woman, a wide smile splitting across his features. You’re gonna show me how to suck cock right, yeah? Gotta make sure I can guide her when she-

He stops, swallowing, his cheeks still blushed from his orgasm and from the vulgar idea of you taking him down his throat.

Don’t you tell anyone about this, eh? I’ll find you, and I’ll kill you.

And with that, he’s gone, disappeared from the windowsill and leaving the man and woman to embrace each other, shaking in fear. Meanwhile, Gyutaro’s running from roof to roof, adrenaline filling his veins because he has to see you now – he’s too pent up, and he needs to see you in person. As expected, you’re asleep by the time he reaches your home, sitting on your window edge, licking his lips and breathing hard.

You’re so fucking pretty – he crawls closer, acutely aware to be quiet and not wake you. You’d fallen asleep on your futon, the blanket still neatly folded in the corner, and Gyutaro swallows before grabbing the cloth, pulling it over you and up to your chin, his hands trembling.

He sighs, his fingers itching to reach out and touch you, to bend you into the positions he’d seen the couples trying, but he refrains. He doesn’t want to wake you, doesn’t want you to be aware of his presence quite yet. He has to be patient, good – he’ll allow himself one pleasure, however, as he dips a finger inside his pants, scooping up some of his still warm cum and gently, gingerly smearing it across your lips, practically moaning at the sight of white against your skin.

You’re just so, so perfect – it almost makes him sick, but as he returns to the couple the next night, demanding the woman get on her knees, Gyutaro can’t help but shiver.

It may take him a while to actually touch you, but god, he’ll be ready.

FAVORITE BODY PARTS:

Your stomach

In general, one of the things that Gyutaro finds he adores about you as his obsession festers is how opposite the two of you are. Regardless of your weight, you are physically different from him – and Gyutaro notices this early on.

That is, his body is essentially just bone – skin stretched to cover his skeleton, while you have lovely warm, squishy skin covering your curves and pretty body. You’re so fucking soft – nothing on you can possibly be as hard as he is, and from the moment he first holds your waist with a slightly shaking hand he can’t help but notice this difference every time he looks at you.

He grows to love feeling the areas on you that hold the most squishiness, and his favorite place of all is your stomach. There’s something so relaxing about how warm the area is, your skin practically his personal hand warmer as he slides his hands into your kimono, his palms pressed snugly against your tummy.

They don’t move much; stationary, just simply feeling, the intention not inherently sexual. However, as you bring back small traces of his long-buried humanity, you also bring back traces of his libido, something that’s been noticeably gone throughout the duration of his time as a demon.

And so, as urges to kiss and touch you slowly begin seeping into his mind, Gyutaro slowly becomes fixated on the fact that you’re so fucking soft, the perfect thing for him to squeeze and lick and fuck until you’re crying and begging for more more more –

His sex drive isn’t monumental, but Gyutaro would be blatantly lying if he said he hasn’t fantasized about how soft you’d feel underneath him before, your pretty body on display for his greedy eyes.

He’s seen many humans naked, but the first time he sees you without any clothing on, his hands are immediately reaching out – and, surprisingly, heading directly for your stomach. His breaths come out harsher as he stares down at your exposed belly, the skin even softer somehow than when it touches it under your clothes.

As he starts regularly fucking you, get ready for his hands to always be gravitating towards your stomach, his fingers pressing into the soft fat while you writhe and squirm in his lap as he forces you up and down his cock, his eyes rolling back into his head while he practically drools.

He loses his composure during sex, and it’ll be more than apparent in the way he grasps onto your tummy like it’s his life line, as if you’re the only thing tethering him to Earth while his orgasm crashes over him.

And god, when he’s got you laying in front of him, your pretty legs parted to expose the soft, warm pussy he claims as his, Gyutaro uses your stomach as almost a pillow – he’s watching his fingers appearing and disappearing out of your cunt, your juices smeared across his pale skin as he rests his forehead on the softness of your lower belly.

His eyes are wide and unblinking, his lips parted in awe as he watches the way you just take them, your velvety walls clenching down repeatedly, hard enough to make his mouth water. He’s always leaving small kisses against your stomach after sex, an oddly sweet gesture that makes every bruise he leaves on your body from the rough fucking feeling slightly better.

It’s strange, his fascination, and at first you have the terrible, horrible fear that his obsession stems from wanting to grow his family with a child. It’s a terrifying thought, one you try to put out of your head, but eventually (after he forces you to tell him, his eyes turning dark and threatening as he demands you to tell me, don’t keep any secrets from me, ever) the fear is lost, as Gyutaro regretfully informs you that demons are infertile.

You’re relieved, but the question only seems to further ignite his obsession with your stomach – you’ll catch him speaking to it when you’re asleep, odd little confessions of if only I could… when you wake up.

Essentially, Gyutaro is obsessed with your tummy because it’s soft and squishy and fuck you’re so very pretty.

His fingers

Generally speaking, Gyutaro isn’t particularly fond of any specific body part of his own.

He’s proud of his ability to fight and destroy, but especially in the context of physical attractiveness, Gyutaro firmly believes what he’s always been told. He knows he’s unappealing; how could anyone ever like a monster with such a grotesque body and face?

It’s a cycle of self-deprecation that he’s found comfort in for most of his life, but once you appear, suddenly he’s wildly disappointed that he isn’t more handsome. He wishes he had a fuller figure, muscle spanning his chest and back, just like all those slayers he sees.

He wishes he had softer hair, a more symmetrical smile, less facial blemishes, everything.

He hates that he’s limited to human beauty ideals, but he can’t help it – how can he, when you’re around him looking so cute and adorable? You’re not perfect either (though he loves your imperfections perhaps more than anything else), but he wants to be perfect for you.

And so, while Gyutaro silently wallows in his self-misery, he slowly discovers that despite his lack of sexual experience and general understanding of human female anatomy, you seem to really, really like his fingers.

His nails were, initially, something you’d quickly stammered out a w-wait! to when he’d tried to shove a finger inside, and while he hadn’t appreciated your interruption, when you mentioned he could stab you and make you bleed with how sharp they were, he reluctantly digressed.

It’s not hard to bite off the excess sharpness of the nail, grinding them down to a roundness against the flesh of his finger, perfectly safe.

The first time he’d fingered you, Gyutaro was shocked at how impossibly warm, wet and tight you were inside. It was like touching velvet – so soft, your walls sucking him in and seeming to almost invite him inside, as if you wanted him there, like you didn’t want him to leave.

He’s staring transfixed at the way you take them, your pussy squelching as he slowly thrusts them in and out, your little squeals making his cheeks flush a very light pink. He loves the way you gasp when he curls them just so, brushing against the spongey spot he’s memorized as your favorite.

He loves to abuse the area; watching as your eyes squeeze closed, your fingers grasping onto his shoulders, your thighs tensing and clenching, your little cries of his name and yes – yes please ‘Taro, fuck please!

He loves how quickly he can get you falling apart with his fingers, how you’re reduced to nothing but a moaning, whimpering mess once he gets you below him. It boosts his confidence, and occasionally between thrusts inside, he’ll pull his fingers out and suck on them, his own little groan slipping out as he savors your taste, all musky and heavy.

And of course, once he discovers your clit, it’s over for you – he’s never leaving the small button alone, the bundle of nerves positively sore by the time he’s done with you. He’s rubbing small circles against it, drawing figure eights, writing the kanji for his name with the tip of his finger, anything he can to get your back arching up, your toes curling and your lips parting into that pretty ‘o’ he loves so much.

He’s constantly bewildered by just how much pleasure he can deliver you with only his hands, and so as he squeezes and gropes at your ass, breasts, stomach, anything and everything, just know that he’s feeling nearly as good as you are.

After all, those bandages as pants may be loose, but you can still see a very clear outline of just how excited he is – and just how much he’s enjoyed the way you’ve made a mess of his fingers, if the wet stain around said outline is any indicator. He just really, really likes using his fingers on you, so just let him, yeah?

DRIVE:

Gyutaro’s never been that horny. Having been turned into a demon while young, he’s never really experienced the human emotion of lust, his sexual urges having faded out from his teenage years to nearly nothing. He’s too consumed by other emotions – anger, jealousy, pity – to really focus on something so arbitrary, something so human.

And so, as a result of this repressed sexual drive Gyutaro doesn’t immediately begin lusting after you once his obsession with you begins to form. He isn’t desperate to fuck you the moment he realizes he feels some twisted form of love, nor does he want to touch you in any way that’s inherently sexual.

Instead, his urges to be with you and feel your skin are much, much more innocent in nature – of course, he’s still a man-eating monster, but he wants to touch your cheek just because it looks soft.

He wants to run his hands along your sides because you’re so small compared to his looming figure, and he wants to make sure that you’re real.

He wants to know how it feels to have you in his arms, because he’s seen human couples doing that and it’s a show of intimacy and connection between two people, and that’s what he wants to have with you.

As time passes, his urges towards you slowly begin moving towards the area of lusting, however. Soon he’s wanting to kiss you; his lips are always chapped, of course, and he’s sure his breath smells atrocious, but your lips look so soft and warm, like they’d be perfect to press against his own.

He imagines pressing you against his body as you kiss him, your hands resting against his chest as you sigh into his mouth, the human form of affection seeming so intimate and lovely and necessary.

It’s some long lost repressed human part of him driving these desires, but Gyutaro can’t find it in himself to care – especially not after the first time he sees you nude. He’s seen dozens of humans naked before; he lives in the Entertainment District after all, and when he’s devouring someone, he’s not particularly respectful with keeping them covered up.

However, there’s something different about you – maybe it’s because he feels so attached to you, or maybe it’s because he suddenly can’t stop thinking about how it would feel to embrace your naked body with his own, free of any fabric separating the both of you while he indulges in your warmth, softness, the plush skin of your body.

He’s not sure, but regardless, after that moment suddenly all those sexual feelings leftover from his time as a human come rushing back to him – he’s hard without even realizing it, his eyes bulging out of their sockets as he simply stares, his expression going dumb.

You’re uncomfortable with it, he can tell by the way you avoid his gaze, but he can’t find it in himself to care – you’re so beautiful, perfect for him in every possible way. And so, after that night, Gyutaro finds himself inching closer and closer towards the final level of intimacy, pushing the boundaries just a bit more each night until he’s eventually got you perched in his lap, his hands placed on your hips.

You’re both naked, your breasts placed tantalizingly close, close enough to be able to reach out and wrap his lips around your nipple, to suck and watch you keen, to maybe even sigh out his name…

He’s rendered mute by your pussy the first time he fucks you, truly too pussydrunk to really even think, as embarrassing as it is. The big, strong Gyutaro falls so easily to your body – one clench and he’s shuddering, every nerve in his body on fire as he tries not to come quite yet – only lasting thirty seconds is wildly embarrassing, and while you’d never poke fun at him for fear of dying, Gyutaro grits his teeth and tries to hold on to his dignity.

And so, sex with you becomes a regular craving for the demon. His urges aren’t too unbearable, and he only ever acts on it a few nights a week, but be prepared because Gyutaro will fuck you, and you will like it – he'll make sure you come, and doesn’t that mean you’re enjoying yourself?

But until he gather up enough courage to actually fuck you, Gyutaro takes baby steps. He can’t do too much all at once – he gets too overwhelmed, too shy and embarrassed because you’re looking at him, your pretty eyes and face and voice giving him attention. It makes his lips go numb, anxiously scratching at his arms and struggling to meet your gaze because god he wants to touch you and hear you moan his name, but how does one go about that, exactly?

Sure, he knows the basics of sex and has watched couples initiate it, but it’s different with you. It’s different because Gyutaro isn’t stupid – he knows you’re afraid of him, that he’s too grotesque and ugly for you to ever really want to be intimate with, and these thoughts make it hard for him to just take what he wants from you.

And so, he starts small – he'll touch you a little more, fingertips pressing hard into your sides when he ghosts his hands there, trying to be gentle but struggling to regulate his strength because you’re so close to him.

He’ll let his fingers brush over your hair, never enough for you to feel but just enough for the texture to become familiar, always bringing his fingers up to his nose and smelling them afterwards, something between a growl and a moan slipping from his lips at the scent.

He’ll reach out and lightly, oh so lightly press his thumb against your cheek, marveling at how soft your skin is and how warm it is, mumbling something under his breath about how you’re too pretty, how it makes him sick that you’re too damn pretty.

His breathing will be a little unsteady when his does this, those yellow eyes of his glancing between your own and your lips, contemplating in a way that he thinks is much more subtle than it actually is.

He wants all sorts of human intimacy with you, and the next thing that he wants to tackle is kissing you. The idea is strange to him - why do humans press their mouths together? It must feel good, but why? He’s curious, but touching you has such an effect on him, so surely tasting you would suck the air right out of his lungs, leaving his knees feeling weak and making pink bloom across his cheeks.

He doesn’t ask you for permission, instead one day coming to sit beside you against the wall of the lair, that familiar concentrated look in his eye. He’ll ask you some question whose answer he doesn’t care about – just to see your lips moving, watching with sharp eyes how your tongue contorts and moves inside your mouth, sometimes flicking out to lick at your lips, the sight almost making him whimper.

Soon, he can’t just watch – he’s rushing forward without any warning, pressing against you with a level of force that makes you yelp. His lips are dry and cracked (despite him having licked them excessively in preparation for this moment, wishing to make them as soft and pleasant as possible), and they’re not moving – he’s staying perfectly still, eyes wide open and staring at you.

It scares you, because while you know what he’s doing, the experience is anything but pleasant. He stays like that for a few moments, before slowly, very slowly moving, his lips clumsy and unsure as they work at you. It feels like he’s trying to eat you – his tongue and teeth stay firmly inside his mouth, but his lips keep trying to fit more and more of you into his mouth at once, saliva smearing across bits of your cheek and chin.

You’re still completely frozen, unsure of what to do, and Gyutaro pulls back, scowling. It had felt good – in a strange way, a way that made something in his stomach feel tight and warm, but he’s sure it would feel much better if you were participating too, if you’d actually kiss him back. Don’t just sit there, he’ll warble to you, not willing to actually ask you to kiss him back, his pride barring him from practically begging for what he wants.

(Though as your sexual relationship progresses, this pride slowly withers away and dies – to the point where he’ll get on his knees and beg for you to open your pretty mouth and suck him off, because even though he could force you easily, it always feels better when you consent, when you at pretend to actually want him.)

This time, as he leans in, your lips move too, trying to match his awkward kisses. Gyutaro groans at that, leaning further against you, the weight causing you to fall backwards, lying flat on your back. You’d pulled away from the kiss during the fall, and as Gyutaro stares down at you hungrily, he swallows, sucking through his teeth harshly and trying to get every drop of your saliva down his throat. You must really, really want him, huh?

The sight simultaneously flusters and flatters him, and before you can say a word he’s scrambling over you, pressing his lips against yours harshly, with vigor, his tongue slipping out and practically forcing its way down your throat. You just taste so fucking good – it's addictive, and the knowledge that you’d laid down for him, wanting him to hover over you and mimic sex making his head swim. He’s breathing hard through his nose, almost wheezing, and you quickly shut your eyes, not wanting to look at his still wide-open ones.

He kisses you for a long, long time – easily thirty minutes, not tiring of the feeling, his tongue still actively rubbing against yours, tracing every tooth and managing to dip into every crevice in your mouth, each new area making him groan and get just a hair more desperate.

When he eventually pulls away, he licks your lips and smiles shakily, a hand coming down to pet at your hair. Next time, will you take you shirt off? It probably grosses you out, huh, that request?

And when you nod with wide eyes, too scared to say no, Gyutaro will exhale slowly, nodding and muttering a series of slurred good’s and your name under his breath, before stalking off out of the lair. Once out of your sight he’s stopping, a hand coming up to scratch at the area right over his heart, his face morphing into something between despair and prevenance.

You’re just so damn pretty – he can’t handle the sight of you, and the image of you laid out before him, looking up at him with those eyes makes every muscle in his body tense, that familiar warm feeling in his groin growing tighter and tighter, and as a hand snakes down to palm at the now very noticeable and wet bulge in his pants, Gyutaro decides that he needs to speed this process up.

He doesn’t know how much longer he can take holding himself back – not if touching you and tasting you and making you gasp feel this good.

(Later that night, as he hovers over your sleeping form and tugs near painfully on his cock, Gyutaro decides that the next step can happen right then and there – you’d look so good with his cum smeared all across your face, wouldn’t you?)

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Praise

While Gyutaro has a difficult time believing your compliments initially, with time he grows much more willing (and desperate) to indulge in your sweet words.

Your kind praises of his caring actions – no matter how forced the words are – have him melting inside, his heart pounding in his chest while he struggles to hold your gaze. He reverts to a bit of a teenage boy in moments where you compliment him – and during sex?

Well, Gyutaro nearly passes out the first time you compliment his body. It takes so much courage for him to show you himself nude, if only because he’s so scared of the way you’ll react. What if you think he’s ugly, or weird, or repulsive? What if you wince at the sight of him, or cower when he tries to touch you or make you touch him?

He’s so scared, so when you run your hands along his arms and tell him he’s handsome, he’s staring at you with wide eyes. He’s simultaneously hateful and in love with the vulnerability you make him feel, so please, please compliment him during sex.

He needs the validation that you like him, that he’s making you feel good, and while he’ll never actually say it aloud, your words turn him on more than you know. Just hearing his name roll off your tongue has his eyes rolling backwards, his fingers twitching with the urge to touch you, to feel your soft skin. He loves when you tell him sweet things about his body; tell him he’s attractive, that you love how strong he is, that you love how muscular his arms are.

Tell him his eyes are pretty, that you love tunneling your fingers through his hair while he fucks you with his tongue, that you love the way his fingers stretch you out and get you seeing stars.

Compliment the things that he does in bed; tell him that you love how he growls and bites at your neck with those sharp teeth of his, that you love when he manhandles you and grunts into your ear as he rolls his hips into yours.

And of course, tell him how he makes you feel – he’ll groan your name and his hips will stutter if you say his cock feels so – so good Gyutaro, mm please! Need more, need more of you –

Tell him that he feels so good inside of you, that he’s going to make you come because it’s all too much, and you’ll see him physically freeze up, his eyes wide and a bit of drool slipping from the corner of his mouth because god, are you talking about him?

Moan his name and make a show of writhing around underneath him, arching your back and gasping out that he’s so big! T’s too much Gyu, gonna make me come!

Tell him anything and everything that comes to your mind, the more depraved the better. He likes to hear you become reduced to incoherent whimpers because of him, and with each praise that slips past your lips, Gyutaro feels his confidence slowly rise until he’s fucking into you with reckless abandon.

He’ll be bearing his teeth and whispering the filthiest things into your ear, the confidence boosting his system like nothing else. He’s calling you his, possessive petnames right and left as he practically abuses your cunt with his cock, pounding into you with such fervor that it’s almost like he’s trying to mold your pussy into the shape of his cock.

He’s demanding you tell him how he feels; growls of tell me what you want me to do to you filling the space between you, the panting breaths and moans rushing into the empty air. He’s telling you to take it, f-fuck, so damn tight, do I make you this tight, huh?

He wants you to mindlessly agree, to clutch onto his body and squeeze around him, milking him for absolutely everything he can give to you until you’re spasming around his cock, coming all over him and whimpering underneath him, your pretty eyes staring up at him with tears beading in your lashes from the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving to you.

And if you were to worship any part of his body?

He’s not sure what you’re doing at first – why are you sinking to your knees and moving so slowly in front of him? You’re taking your time with his cock, letting your eyes gaze over every single inch of him, the attention making his neck flush and embarrassing him. And yet, he doesn’t stop you – because when you whisper out that he’s so pretty, I love your cock Gyutaro, he nearly malfunctions, his nails digging into his palms as his hips involuntarily jerk, his cock bobbing slightly with the motion.

He wants you to kiss every inch of him, to suckle on his tip and let your tongue dip into his hypersensitive slit, the sensation making him gasp sharply and his eyes close tightly.

He wants you to gently fondle his balls, to whisper against his skin in between licks against his shaft that you wanna taste you, can I please taste you Gyu? Wanna make you come, you look so pretty when you do…

He’ll let you do anything you damn well please when you’ve got him like this – his eyes are watching your every move, his breath hitched, his heart fluttering in his chest as his orgasm comes much too soon, the emotional weight of your words and adoring actions making him desperate to give you the cum you claim you need.

He just really, really likes when you give him positive attention in the bedroom, so please narrate everything you’re feeling. He wants to know every possible detail, and he’ll strive to keep touching and pleasing you until you’re screaming his name and a jumbled, slurred series of yes and please and I love you.

Breast Fixation

Gyutaro, to put it lightly, develops a sort of fascination with your chest. He has no sexual experience with women, and consequently has neither felt nor seen a living, naked woman’s breasts before.

Of course, he’s been curious; victims he’s in the middle of devouring who’s clothing has slipped down in the process of his meal, where their tits are hanging out of the fabric, looking soft and supple and perfect to touch. He’ll reach out and halfheartedly squeeze, but the dead flesh isn’t the same as a living, breathing woman’s – besides, his hunger is too strong for him to really process how soft, pliable, and squishy it is.

And so, once he has you, someone to fantasize about and imagine naked (frequently), Gyutaro is suddenly very interested in seeing what you look like shirtless. He’s always paid close attention to the way your chest looks in your kimonos; the fabric tightening through there, as if your breasts were practically begging to be freed, exposed to the world and awaiting eyes like his.

He’s always noticed the way your top exposes the line of your cleavage when you bend down to pick something up, your tits pressed together by your arms while he gets a front row seat that leaves his pants feeling tight and his throat dry.

Before he steals you away, frequent nights are spent with the image of you straddling his lap playing through his mind. He’ll imagine the way you’d shimmy out of your top, exposing your breasts to his greedy eyes, the soft flesh sitting only a few tantalizing inches away from his face.

He’d focus in on your nipples, imagining the way they’d slowly pebble from the cold air, growing tight and taut while he’s left to drool, his fingers begging to reach out and pinch, twist, and pull. He’ll imagine the way you’d look down at him with a soft smile, cupping his cheeks and asking in that soft, breathy whisper of yours if he’d touch them please Gyutaro, I want you to play with me…

He wouldn’t need to be told twice, his hands immediately reaching up to cautiously grope and squeeze.

He’s nervous at first, his touches hesitant, but as he wraps a hand around your left breast and squeezes lightly, the sigh you make in response has him gulping and squeezing harder, his other hand following suit until he’s massaging and groping at your tits like they’re his personal stress balls.

He’s painfully hard below you, his cock desperate for stimulation, but as you push his head closer to your breasts he nearly loses his mind; he’s quick to envelope a nipple into his mouth, closing his eyes while he sucks and licks at the bud as you hum and praise him, little whispers of mmm, just like that baby going straight to his cock.

He twitches with every little keen you make, and this fantasy carries over into his sex life with you. Very, very early on you’ll notice that he’s always staring at your tits whenever you’re intimate with him.

When he’s bathing you, he’s staring and gulping, not doing well to hide the way he’s very clearly ogling.

When you’re changing, he’s quickly glancing away after you catch him stealing looks at you, his cheeks pink as he holds his hands over the tent slowly forming in his pants.

And once you start fucking?

Well, you’ve noticed his fascination, and you’ll capitalize on it. Grab his cock and trace your nipples with the tip, and just watch the way he shivers, his eyes unable to look away while he whispers a gravelly fuck under his voice.

Play with your tits as you wait for him to undress, pouting up at him and begging him to hurry up, to come fuck you please, you’re too horny to wait.

Push your breasts together and ask him to fuck them, telling him it’ll feel so good, and how you want him to leave his cum all over the soft skin.

Purposefully bounce more than you actually need when he fucks you while you’re on your back, so that the fat jiggles even more and watch the way his eyes widen, his pupils dilating as he fucks into you with new fervor.

Grope and squeeze at them as he hovers over you in missionary, and you’ll feel the way his thrusts grow faster, harder, more desperate, his eyes trained on the way you work at the soft, supple flesh.

The root of his love for your breasts really comes from just how soft they are; he’s not used to anything as welcoming or comforting as your chest, and when you let him rest his head there, fall asleep behind you with a hand cupping one, letting him idly suckle at a nipple as you card your fingers through his hair, how can Gyutaro not grow to love them?

And love them he will – the copious amounts of love marks, bruises and hickeys littering the sensitive skin will make his obsession more than obvious, as will the way he essentially creams his pants the first time his fingers brush against them.

The large stain against the fabric and the slack-jawed, red-faced expression he gives you will have you more than aware that just a simple flash of your tits will leave Gyutaro puddy in your hands, willing to do anything for you.

Hand Holding

It’s not really a kink, but as your sexual relationship with Gyutaro progresses, you’ll find that more often than not he manages to snake his hand into yours. When he’s fucking you in missionary, hips smacking against you fast and hard, he’s holding your hands above your head, gritting his teeth and whining in your ear because you’re too – too fucking tight, shit, ‘m gonna come, you want that? You want my cum in you?

He’ll start off with his hand wrapped around your wrist, but as the sex continues and he gets closer to his orgasm, he’ll switch to interlacing his fingers with yours, pressing your hand hard against the mattress, the tendons in his hands and forearms flexing as his abs and balls clench up, warm cum flooding your cunt and leaving him gasping your name.

When he’s got you bent over, pretty ass on display as he stuffs you full with his cock, he’ll lean over you, a large hand covering one of yours, dwarfing yours and overwhelming you even more, his body literally covering every inch of yours.

Even when perched on top of him, grinding against him and biting your lip because it feel so very good, he’ll alternate between cupping the globes of your ass and catching your hand, clutching it in his hand as he tries to keep his grounding and not come too quickly.

Frankly, it’s almost unconscious – he doesn’t actively realize it’s happening until you point it out to him, in which case he’ll grow defensive, telling you that you’re wrong and mistaken, embarrassed to admit that he naturally does something so human, so weak and gentle.

But really, it’s just another way to extend the intimacy with you – you’re so pretty and sweet and so very lovely, and though he’s kidnapped you and forced you into some twisted form of a relationship with him, there’s something about the moments where he’s inside of you that leaves him feeling fuzzy, warm, wanted. And perhaps it’s the centuries of neglect and self-hatred that lead him to desperately chase that feeling of security and acceptance, or perhaps it’s just natural instinct left over from his human days.

Regardless, Gyutaro will almost exclusively only ever orgasm if your hand is somehow touching his – he needs that intimacy to let himself finish, emptying himself inside of you while clutching onto you, keeping you there and steady and still, stopping you from squirming away or escaping when he’s trying to give you his cum, gifting you with the most intimate, personal thing he could. And when he’s coming, he’s squeezing at your hand, hard.

The pleasure is just so overwhelming, and he needs something to grasp onto, something to keep him grounded and keep him from rutting into you and humping you into overstimulation, his cries and warbled moans sounding pitiful. He doesn’t mean to crush your hand, but sometimes he’ll hold so tightly that you wind up with big finger-shaped bruises across your palms and the back of your hands, the sight making Gyutaro ashamed because he hadn’t meant to hurt you, but also pleased because now he’s marked you.

There’ll be a constant reminder of him every time you look down at your hands, every time you do basic tasks or touch things. It's a thought that makes him weirdly smug, and so while Gyutaro will often try to deny your accusations of him always holding your hand during sex, but he knows it’s true.

(But really, you should be grateful it’s just your hand – at least it’s not your throat, where he’s much likelier to lose control.)

But even outside of when he orgasms, Gyutaro really, really likes to hold your hands. His favorite time to consciously do it is when he’s got you perched in his lap, his chin resting on your shoulder while you lean back against his chest.

He’ll want you fully nude so that he’s free to explore and roam your body with his hands, occasionally pinching at your stomach or groping at your breast. He wants you sat on his cock, the hard length nestled inside of you while you both simply bask in each other’s presence, him turning to bury his nose against your neck and deeply inhaling, his cock twitching inside of you.

Gyutaro grows a penchant for cockwarming with you as time goes by, because while he doesn’t always want to fuck you (though it’s not too terribly difficult to persuade him – just say please and he’s putty in your hands, so frantic to get his cock out that he’s ripping at the bandages of his pants) there’s something about the intimacy of being inside you but just cuddling you or holding you that satisfies his clinginess.

Plus, this way he can indulge in the feeling of your cunt in a non-sexual way – you’re just so warm and inviting, taking his breath away every time without fail, the sensation so lovely and foreign to him that he wants to spend every possible moment inside of you, even if he’s not fucking you stupid. And the whole time he's lodged inside you like this, his fingers are wrapped around yours, marveling at the size different and tracing the lines and patterns on your hand.

They’re just so much softer and better than his – so innocent and not capable of so much death and destruction as his. You’re just so cute, in a way that makes him crazy, and he’d be stupid to not take advantage of having someone like you to touch and taste and share his best.

And Gyutaro is many things, but stupid is not one of them.

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Cock Worship

Although Gyutaro isn’t an inherently selfish lover, he can’t deny that having you fawn over him gets him hot under the collar, his pants growing uncomfortably tight and his mouth feeling dry. There’s just something about the idea of you worshipping him that gets him equal parts mortified and horribly aroused.

To have all of your attention on him in a non-sexual context steals his breath away, making him struggle to seem interesting and cool and attractive, even if he knows he isn’t. And so, in a sexual context this is only amplified – he wants you to like him, to find his body and him generally attractive, and to have you blatantly doing that during sex would make his head spin, embarrassment eating him alive even as he enjoys every second of it.

And to have you worship any part of his body is wonderful, but to have you worship between his legs?

Well, his cock’s not especially pretty, and he knows it – it’s long, long enough that it’s right on the border between hurting and pleasurable when he sinks inside all the way to the hilt. It’s sensitive, always leaking precum so it’s sticky and wet and glistening, with a set of heavy, swollen balls sprinkled with black hairs hung right below.

It’s intimidating and will leave you a bit nervous of how he’ll possibly fit inside of you, but Gyutaro’s eyes roll to the back of his head when he sees and feels your fingers wrap around him, pumping and flicking your wrist at the tip, the sensation of you jerking him off making his hips buck up into the air.

Having you give him long, slow, lazy pumps of your fist while you list off all the reasons you love his cock in between sloppy, wet kisses would have Gyutaro coming in mere minutes, the attention and praise going directly between his legs.

When you’re on your knees in front of him, make him shudder and flush by gripping him, making a show of licking from the base to the tip, suckling on the swollen, red tip and flicking your tongue against his slit, dipping in slightly and feeling the way he throbs in your mouth.

Move down to fondle and suck at his balls – if you’re able to fit a whole one in your mouth, you’ll hear a strangled s-stop, stop stop stop ‘m gonna come too fast, the pleasure literally too much for him to handle.

Give him the erotic sight of you tracing the outline of your lips with his tip, smearing precum all over them so that they’re glistening with a clear, off-white sheen. Rub the outside of your cheek against his length while you stare up at him, licking your lips and smiling, and you’ll literally see his face turning red, his sharp teeth biting at his lip and drawing blood because fuck, you’re so sexy and provocative and having you say that you love his cock is making his heart flutter.

And when he’s inside you, thrusting in and out and making you clench and tighten up, purposefully flex the muscles, making everything tighter and more intense, telling him that he deserves the tightest you can offer, and feel the way he immediately busts inside of you, the groan that forces its way past his lips sounding pained and desperate and pathetic.

Which brings us to another major facet of his enjoyment of cock worship – please worship his cum. It’s a bit runny and thin, shooting out of him in long spurts, always wickedly warm and getting absolutely everywhere. Let him come inside you – whine out a please give it to me Gyutaro, need you to come for me, please please want your cum!

He’s stuffing you full every time he fucks you, those yellow eyes of his eagerly watching it ooze out of you after he’s pulled out. When you’re sucking and licking at him, let him push your head as far down as you can go, sending rope after rope down your throat, his nails digging into your scalp as he gives a few sad last spurts, only a drop or so managing to hit your tongue.

Let him pull out of your mouth and give himself a few good tugs, cum splattering all over your face while he groans your name and a slurred take it. Lick it off your lips and look up at him with cum all over your cheeks and chin, and you’ll see the way he snarls and throws you onto the makeshift bed he shares with you, immediately ripping your thighs apart and diving into you like a man starved, the wet noises of his tongue diving between your folds absolutely depraved.

You’re just so, so very wonderful when you’re worshipping him, so please do – one the bright side, it’s the absolute fastest way to get him to come, just as long as you sound like you really mean it.

Spitting

This kink is one that takes both you and Gyutaro by surprise. It happens very suddenly, and it takes a moment for both of you to process exactly what’s happened, Gyutaro’s spit sitting against your tongue and tasting like him.

It’s a manifestation of his possessiveness over you – you’re his. His little human, his lovely woman, his pretty cunt to touch and fuck and bury himself inside of for hours on end. And so, when he’s got you folded into a mating press, strong arms keeping your thighs pinned to your chest with absolutely no wiggle room, your face all screwed up in pleasure and your occasional gasps of his name, how can Gyutaro not want to mark you as his?

You’ll find that he often uses those possessive nicknames for you in the bedroom too, always going on and on about how you’re his girl, his cunt, his love.

And really, spitting in your mouth and on you is just a natural progression of this sentiment. He starts off with spitting onto your breasts – a glob of saliva landing on a sensitive nipple, making everything slick as he pinches and toys with the area, hearing you keen above him.

Then it’ll transition to him spitting onto your collarbone, rubbing the wetness over the bone, leaning down to suck dark hickeys against your skin, getting the area even more sticky with his saliva.

He’ll move on to spitting directly onto your cunt after that, spreading your pretty folds and letting the spit land right over your quivering hole, loving the way you jerk slightly at the weird sensation. It makes it easier when he fingers you, just that extra layer of wetness making his fingers glide in and out of you, pulling moans and whines from your lips.

He’ll spit at your asshole when he’s got you bent over, thumb rubbing against the hole and only slightly dipping in, enjoying the way you yelp and get all tense.

It’s only after he’s grown comfortable with spitting all over your body that he finally ends up seeing your open mouth under him as he fucks you with fast, harsh thrusts, hovering above you and staring down at you without blinking. He’ll spit directly onto your tongue, staring with panting breaths, before telling you in that familiar strained voice to swallow, his eyes watching the way your throat bobs as you do what he says.

It’s hot, really – the kind of thing that makes his cock twitch and bob, the idea that you have his saliva inside of you making something in his gut sit pleasantly.

And if you were to spit in his mouth, Gyutaro would actually fucking whimper. He wants you to be possessive over him, to want him all to yourself, to think of him as yours – and if you were to be riding him, hips clapping against his as you milk him for everything he’s worth, Gyutaro would gladly open his mouth wide, waiting with baited breath and shut eyes to feel your warm spit against his tongue. He’ll swallow for you, even opening his mouth again in case you’re feeling generous and want to give him more.

He just thinks it’s hot, and he’d be more than willing to bring spitting into your non-sexual lives too – it’s just so intimate and meaningful, don’t you agree?

BIGGEST FANTASY:

As a general rule, Gyutaro is a massive fan of touching you.

There’s quite literally nothing about your body or yourself that could ever turn him off; he thinks every inch of you is exquisite, no matter what your personal qualms may be. And because he thinks of you as something so wonderful and sweet and his, he finds everything that your body does equally as arousing as your pretty face.

And so, while he’s never given it much thought, the moment he smells blood in the air around you, he’s immediately fighting off both his appetite and the intense fear coursing through him because why the fuck are you bleeding?

He’s not sure what’s going on initially, until he follows the blood source and finds it to be between your trembling legs. You’re scared, understandably, at why he’s so suddenly yanking your legs apart, eyes boring right into your crotch, but when he starts ripping at the cloth covering you, there’s not much you can do.

And so, once you explain what’s going on after his frantic why are you bleeding is asked in a panicked voice, suddenly Gyutaro is stiffening up, his thoughts running wild. He’d always been just slightly curious – you smell so sweet, and while there’s no part of him that desires to eat you, there’s something about the way your blood smells, the way you smell…

He quickly learns that having sex with you while you’re on your period is his absolute favorite. You’re so sensitive and pliable, your face screwing up at even the slightest presses of his fingers against your clit, your pussy always wet with blood, easy to slip his fingers in and out of.

He loves it, and the way your smell grows even more pronounced during this time has his head spinning, and fuck the taste –

He thinks he’s lost his mind the first time his lips touch your pussy with a smear of your blood across it, the sweet and metallic taste making his hips involuntarily jerk, his orgasm dangerously close already.

He’s always, always willing to pleasure you while you’re menstruating, to the point where he’s actively offering once he smells that familiar tinge of metal in the air, practically begging you with those half lidded eyes to let me make you feel good, yeah? I’ll be gentle, or at least I’ll try.

He’s careful with his motions at first, though it doesn’t last long – his fingers press into your thighs, nails dangerously close to piercing the skin, while his tongue laps at your cunt like a man starved.

Besides, aren’t orgasms healthy for women, especially during this time of the month? He’s heard so from the other Oirans (in hushed, embarrassed whispers), and what kind of a lover would he be if he didn’t attempt to take care of your every need?

You winced, the cramps in your lower stomach making shifting your sitting position difficult. Your period had arrived very suddenly – it was just starting, and a quick swipe of your fingers below your panties had you sighing in frustration. The dank light of the lair was bright enough to show the red stain of your fingers as you retracted your hand, and with a dejected sloop of your shoulders you leaned back against the dirt wall. Eyes closed, you let your arms wrap around your stomach, resigned to the knowledge that you’ll bleed out through your clothes and onto the dirt ground below before you’d ever ask Gyutaro for sanitary supplies.

Not that he’d say no – although, maybe that scared you more.

Daki scrunched up her nose as she registered the smell, sending you a look. “What’s that stench?”

You bit your lip, quickly apologizing. “I’m sorry, it should be over in…”

Unsure of how much Daki knew of menstruation, you left the question unanswered, instead wincing as another cramp rolled through. She grunted, her brow twitching as she crossed her arms. “Aren’t you going to answer me?”

You glanced at her, begging with your eyes for her to leave it alone, and despite her scowl, she merely sighed and pivoted on her heel, jumping up to race out of the lair and into the night air far above. You sighed as well, closing your eyes and relaxing as much as you could.

Your relaxation was cut short, however, as a loud bang and a voice wailed out, “Why is there blood? What’s going on?”

Gyutaro had arrived, and as you opened your eyes, you were met with the sight of him rushing forward, grabbing a knee in each hand and spreading your legs with a surprising amount of force.

“From here…” He muttered, head leaning down as his gaze focused on your clothed pussy, the kimono and underwear you’d been dressed in earlier that day already seeped through with blood. The red stained the fabric, sending Gyutaro into a further state of panic.

Nails dug into his neck and chest as he stared wildly at you, leaning deeply into your personal space as he growled, “What happened?”

You shrank back, stuttering out, “I – I’m menstruating.”

Gyutaro blinked, his breath heavy with the panic still running through him. “What?”

“I’m menstruating. I’m okay, I’m – I’m not injured.” Your voice was weak, but Gyutaro didn’t seem to notice.

“What is menstruation?” He asked, the scratching sound of his fingers against his neck still prominent in your ears. “Well?”

“It’s um, a sign that I’m fertile…” You whispered, fear squeezing at your heart.

Gyutaro stared at you for a moment, before glancing down between your legs. “Are you in pain? Does it hurt?”

You shook your head, hoping he’d believe the lie.

A moment passed, before he visibly gulped. He slowly lied down on his stomach, his hands frozen for a second before suddenly ripping at your clothing. The area surrounding your pussy was ripped off, exposing yourself to the cold air as you gasped and shivered. The sudden motions were over before you can blink, Gyutaro’s eyes trained on your bloodstained folds.

He looked like a child in a candy store; dilated pupils, his breathing heavy, lips parted enough to allow drool to pool at the edges. You closed your eyes, willing yourself to not flinch when he was this close to you, especially as you saw his razor sharp teeth.

You yelped when a finger reached out to very lightly brush over your pussy, his skin just barely grazing your own. You bit your lip.

He repeated his ministration, adding a bit more pressure. A moan slipped past your lips as his finger passed over your clit, and immediately you clamped a hand over your mouth, eyes wide as his gaze snaped back up to you. His face was bright red, you realized, the blush heavy over his cheeks as licked at his lips. With his gaze still locked on yours, he pressed back on that same spot, your clit oversensitive and making you lowly groan, your thighs involuntarily jerking as he began rubbing up and down the area.

“G-gyutaro…” You whined out, tucking your lower lip under your teeth as you lightly squirmed. He watched with rapt attention. You seemed to be enjoying yourself – do you like being touched while you’re ‘menstruating’? As long as you weren’t injured with all this blood – this blood, that was such an intoxicating, delicious scent, the best thing he’s ever smelled.

With a small, wobbly smile up at you, Gyutaro suddenly dove in, lips pressing against your folds as you gasped and jerked your hips, sending him in even deeper so that his nose brushed against your clit. You gasped his name, encouraging him to dart his tongue out, your blood immediately registered on his taste buds. His eyes blew wide, his hips jerking forward against the ground, the sudden wave of arousal because of your scent making his knees feel weak. He moaned around your skin, his tongue eagerly licking and getting to work against your sensitive skin.

Groans and whimpers vibrated against you, his sounds rivaling your own as you moaned and reached a hand down to run through his hair. Gyutaro’s grip on your thighs tightened at the feeling, and when you tugged a bit at the roots, the growl that left his lips had your pussy clenching around nothing.

“Gyu-“ You started, your eyes fluttering shut at the sensitivity of his tongue on you. It was too much – the pleasure too acute, but as a hand left the plush of your thighs and instead snaked down to press against your clit, you gasped.

A strangled moan slipped past your lips as Gyutaro worked his finger in circles against your bundle of nerves, his tongue still licking and slurping against your folds. The combination of the stimulation had your head spinning, the sensation nearly too much, and as you whined out his name and dug your fingers even more harshly against his scalp, Gyutaro couldn’t help but moan in response.

You tasted so fucking good – the best blood he’s ever feasted on. Sweet, yet savory, a taste entirely your own. His cock was achingly hard in his pants, pressing against the bandaged cloth as he ground his hips against the dirt floor of the lair, the pressure not nearly enough to relieve the terrible ache. He wanted more more more – more of you, more of your perfect little pussy, more of the sounds slipping past your lips, more of the taste of your blood.

Soon you were shaking, thighs trembling as your orgasm crashed through you, your head throwing back as you cried out, slick and blood mixed together on Gyutaro’s tongue, chin and fingers. His thumb never stopped its motions, continuing the bliss as you slowly came down from your high, your clit nearly rubbed raw as the overstimulation began hitting you.

Squirming, you tried to push his head away from your cunt, but Gyutaro’s growl had you stopping quickly.

Pulling back slightly (only enough to speak), Gyutaro warned in a low voice out of breath, “Don’t move, stay still or I’ll make you come so much you cry.”

You only gulped and nodded, the feeling of his nails pressing into your thigh making you shiver, your hips jerking at the overwhelming sensation of Gyutaro’s ministrations.

“Tastes so good, so so so good –“ Gyutaro moaned, the sound muffled against your skin as he gulped and sucked at your pussy, nearly making out with your delicate folds. You whined, squeezing your eyes shut tightly – it was too much.

But for Gyutaro, it’d never be enough; after all, how could he let such a delicacy between your legs be taken for granted? Especially when you looked so pretty all panting and bloody once he’d fucked you with his tongue, fingers and cock more times than you could count.

#yandere kny #yandere demon slayer #yandere gyutaro #gyutaro x reader #kny smut #gyutaro smut #_gyutaro #_kny #_lee's profiles

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astrow1zar6 · 6 months

Text

Astro Observations-08

A lot of big comedians & influencers have Cancer suns

12th house synastry is really upsetting & confusing, in this connection you feel as if you found your soulmate and in the beginning spend a lot of time together & then this person will just vanish from your life. This synastry lights up a dark subconscious place in both the partners minds & forces them to deal with a lot of dark shit they never had to in other relationships. This can cause one of the partners to ghost the other because of the intensity leaving the other person confused & hurt. This is a connection that’s difficult for both parties to forget even years after separating.

Venus in Virgos really aren’t into sex. I’ve seen a lot of these ppl be content with sexless marriages. They prefer mental connection over physical. (Even the men) this lack of physical can hurt the passion in a lot of your relationships

Taurus moons tend to be hoarders

Venus in the 7th house synastry is the best placement to have with someone imo (especially if the woman’s the Venus and the man is the house) the house person sees Venus as their ideal partner & treats her like a princess. He sees her as very charming and beautiful. The Venus loves the attention the house gives her and gives a lot of affection back

If you don’t have synastry placements in the 5th, 7th, or 8th house with someone it will probably lack a lot of passion & sexual attraction

Leo suns love any type of attention whether it’s good or bad attention. They get this kick when all eyes are on them. A lot of Leo’s seek this much attention because either they were always the center of attention in the family or were always ignored or picked last.

Leo moons can actually be very awkward people lowkey lol

Sagittarius suns are not scared of consequences I swear. You guys are sooo impulsive. Y’all will do the craziest things on a whim then be shocked when u get punished for it lol.

Aquarius suns are the most likely to get into substance abuse

Taurus Venus’s are amazing cooks. If u marry someone with this placement you’re very lucky😩

Scorpio mars woman are very explosive while angry while the men usually loath in silence and act very petty and passive

Aries suns usually have a prominent mole somewhere on their face

Libra moons look like bunnies lol

#astroblr #astro observations #astrologist #astrology #astro notes

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maryangelex · 2 months

Note

Please, please, please.

I am requesting an Ex!husband John price/ Fem!reader, where they divorce and he’s absolutely devastated by it, grovels and upset that he lost the love of his life, and then years later by circumstances are in force proximity with each other and have to deal with communicating all their grievances and then bam heated smut and pent up frustrations at each other, and then get back together.

Thank you so much and I really appreciate you! But it’s also okay if you skip my request :)

a/n: anon how could i possibly leave this delectable prompt unanswered!!?!?!?! i have literally been saving this one for almost last because i need to use 110% of my prune brain its so amazing. one thing about me is...im a whore for ex-husband!price *clutches pearls* im sorry for making ya wait, i hope you love it!!!

this is gonna be a long one!

c/w: ex-husband!price, make-up sex, forced proximity, quickie, against a wall, p in v, creampie, john price yearns for his pretty wife

It hadn't been easy, no divorce is easy, really. Much less when it was something you didn't really want to do, but more so saw yourself as needing to do. The nights without John had gotten too lonely, his side of the bed had gotten too cold. You thought the times he was back would make up for the times he wasn't. When John came back from deployment it felt like a coin toss: sometimes it was your honeymoon all over again, but other times he was cold and distant.

You had two kids in tow; two kids that needed their father. You were a wife that needed her husband just as much. You don't blame him for not being there of course. After all, you owed it all to him; all you ever wanted he got for you, he provided you a house to raise your children in, to grow old in. He gave you nothing but unconditional love. That's what made everything harder when you decided you couldn't do this anymore. You couldn't keep hoping he'd come home to be his normal self every time just to be met with the shell of the man you fell in love with.

You knew it wasn't his fault, you knew his line of work. But having to be alone the majority of the year plus having to still be alone when he was around had gotten to you, it had become too much. And John knew this. When you told him through sobs and wails that you couldn't do this anymore, that you felt hopeless and alone and like this was the only remedy, he understood. He had packed his things and left without a fuss, leaving you the house and renting an apartment barely a drive away. He tried to make it as simple as possible, arranging to stay with the kids every weekend and more if you needed time for yourself. His silence and compliance to separate felt like more of a dagger in your chest than the reason to separate to begin with. You wished he had fought for you, that he had yelled at you and argued with you to stay and fix this.

Little did you know that when he found himself in the empty single-bedroom apartment he rented himself he did nothing but cry like a neglected child for hours until his eyes stung and couldn't physically push out any more tears. John Price was a man made of stone and yet he found himself clutching his chest as he sobbed for his wife nearly every night and every lonesome morning. He kicked himself for not fighting for you, as well. He blamed himself for having to come to this in the first place, for leaving you alone and not knowing how to cope well enough to be the very best of himself when he came back from grueling missions. For not being able to look you in the eyes after losing a man, for not being able to open up to you and cry like this in front of you when he needed to let it out of his chest, for not making love to you like a tending husband should at his wife's every whim.

He felt like the consequences of choosing his career had finally caught up to him, and losing you was his penance.

The two of you finalized your divorce quietly and without struggle, feeling like it only drove the knife deeper into your chest. You settled on the kids seeing John every other weekend and he'd be more than welcome back home to be present as their father. Because that was the thing about John: he may have not seen himself as a good man (not good enough for you, for sure) but you both knew he was the best father your kids (and you) could ever ask for.

It's been a year since your divorce; John had been living in his separate flat whilst you and the kids stayed home. He'd come every week, and take the kids every other weekend. Now your oldest's birthday was a few days away and who were you to deprive him of coming? After he had been doing such a good job at not crossing your boundaries, at being a loving father and giving you every bit of warmth and kindness and love that he gave you when you were still together...the more you listed these things the more your heart ached and you doubted yourself. The more you realized you still loved him.

On the day of your kid's birthday, he made sure to get there extra early to help you set up the place. He bought the necessary supplies, picked up the cake from the bakery, and set up the chairs and balloons. Hell, you barely lifted a finger. And of course, he was more than happy to do everything and anything for you with that cheek-pulling smile of his. As the party went on and the house filled with guests and wild kids running about, you scrambled around the house to make sure no one needed anything. That's when John intervened.

"Everythin' alright, hon? Been runnin' round the house like mad," his voice was sweet like honey as he entered the garage, where you were taking out can after can of soda from the spare fridge and into the cooler with ice you brought with you. You didn't turn to look at him as you sighed in exasperation, but you could feel John just a few steps behind you.

"Just making sure everyone's got something to drink...the sodas've run out in the cooler outside and--"

"Everyone's havin' a good time, love," John cut off your rambling with a light chuckle, the rumbling of his voice making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. He interjected by taking the cooler from your hands "Let me get that for you," he said, lifting the heavy plastic for you. You sighed again and brought the back of your hand to rub your forehead. You finally looked up to meet his eyes, which were gazing at you with so much adoration it made your stomach twist.

"John..." you started, and he responded with a furrow of his brows and a silent question. "Please don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" he asked.

"Like you still love me," you blurted, and the beat your heart skipped let you know you physically regretted saying that, instantly.

John's lips pressed into a thin line as he paused for a moment in silence.

"I do still love you," he confessed. You shook your head in disbelief and scoffed.

"John, please, it's our kid's birthday," you dismissed as you turned on your heel and made your way to the door except-

Right, you now remembered why it was a rule in your house this past year to not close the garage door: the lock was busted. You gripped the knob firmly and gave it one, two, three harsh tugs, hoping to somehow force the door open. You banged the door with your fist in frustration, hoping maybe someone heard it on the other side but all you heard was the music playing on the other side.

"Let me have a go," John said, placing the cooler down and tugging just as harshly, even slamming his shoulder against it to see if it would budge, but nothing. You and John were trapped in your garage. You let out a groan and a quiet curse as you pinched the bridge of your nose with a hand on your hip.

John placed a hand on your bicep. They were cold from the ice but the squeeze and rubbing of his thumb on your skin was filled with warmth.

"S'alright, take a breather, hon," he said tenderly, "they'll miss us soon enough to come lookin' in here."

You nodded as you stepped away from his touch. You never stopped John from still using terms of endearment for you, it never felt like a big deal. You were frustrated from the party, the perfectionist in you wanting nothing but to give your kids the best party, and now you were locked up in the garage. To make matters worse, you were locked up in here with your ex-husband who just said he still loves you.

"I meant what I said, love," his voice was barely a whisper but it still brought you out of your thoughts.

"John..." you warned.

"No, I mean it," his tone rose, firmer this time, "I still fuckin' love you, baby."

"Well, it's too late for that now, isn't it? You're gonna make an effort now, John, a year later?"

John was silent, pleading blue eyes gazing at you, the muscles in his jaw tensing.

"You didn't fight for us, John. You didn't fight for me." your finger pointed to your chest firmly as you looked back at him with tear-filled eyes.

"I know, baby, I know," his voice shook in his throat, "I should've fought for us... I should've been a better husband to you, better dad for the kids I-- I should've just been there."

You were quiet as you choked on a quiet sob, the tears escaping down your cheeks.

"I haven't stopped loving you for a second, my only regret in life is not having fought harder for you, having let go of you so easily - fuck," you watched the tears prick his eyes as he stepped closer to you. His palm came to cup your cheek and his thumb wiped away the tear staining your cheeks.

"I failed you. I just...please, baby, I just want one more chance to be a better man for you... I just want my girl back." His tone was soft as if he was reciting a prayer kneeling at a pew. His other hand came to the other side of your face, tucking your hair behind your ear before it cupped your other cheek alike.

You sobbed and brought your hands up to his wrists, shaking your head lightly, knowing all you really wanted was to forgive him despite your denial.

His forehead pressed against you as he whispered once more, "Please, baby..."

"John..." you tried

The tip of his nose rubbed against yours, "Please," he repeated, "be my pretty wife again...be mine again, yeah?" His lips brushed against yours and his hands were firm on your cheeks. You sobbed one more time before his lips pressed against yours, slotting together like two pieces of a puzzle. And fuck, you melted as your lips met.

His lips against yours just felt so right; they were your husband's lips, after all. They were made for yours and yours were made for his, that's why you knew you were so perfect for each other. The way he kissed you made your chest break into a million pieces because you just missed him so much.

The hold on his wrists became limp and you didn't resist - you couldn't resist his kiss because you wanted it so desperately, you've wanted it for this entire past year.

Your mouth moved with his, lips clashing and caressing against each other, teeth clicking together with the force of your desperate kisses, your tongues hungrily pressing their way into each others' mouths. John's hand slid to the back of your head, fingers snaking into your hair and raking through your scalp. You hummed into his mouth at the feeling.

Your hands slid up his back, balling into fists over his shoulder blades and gripping the fabric of his shirt as if you'd lose him again if you didn't hold him firm enough. You held him impossibly close to you as he did the same, your bodies familiarly molded to each other.

You felt John step forward as he still kissed you, backing you up into the nearest wall and it made the heat in your core ignite like a bonfire. When you felt the cold wall against your body, you pried your mouth away from his to gasp a breath but it wasn't half a second later before he captured your lips again. His hands slid down the frame of your body, pawing at your chest and curves before eagerly bunching up the skirt of your dress around your hips. You scrambled to his belt, clumsily and hurriedly doing your best to unbuckle it and undo his pants.

He scoured under your dress to tug your underwear down your thighs with messy urgency. His lips sloppily and wetly trailed up and down your chest and neck before finding their way back to your mouth.

Your hand palmed his hardened length through his boxers and he groaned into your mouth. One of his hands took hold of yours and stuffed it in his boxers to stroke his aching cock as you both panted between kisses.

"All yours, darling," he groaned as he guided your hand stroking his cock, "forever fuckin' will be yours."

And you whined at his words, or maybe at the way his other hand snaked between your legs, fingers wetting themselves with the slick pooled between your folds before pressing into your hole. He pumped his fingers in and out, making you reminisce on how those thick digits have made you feel so good in the past.

You moaned his name like a prayer, pleading for him to fuck you because you needed him. You've needed him for a fucking year and couldn't wait a second longer.

John would give you anything and everything, he always has. So he wasted no time in removing his fingers from your pussy, coating his cock in the slick they collected, and using his other hand to hike your leg up around his waist.

You braced yourself against the wall and with your hands against his shoulders as he practically lifted you off your feet and insert his girthy, swollen cock inside of you. You moaned unabashedly at the way he split you open as he bottomed out.

"So perfect...my perfect wife," he breathed, "made just for me, baby." His fingers dug into the flesh of your thigh and you were sure it would bruise the same way your nails clawing through his shirt were sure to leave crescents on his skin.

John pumped his cock in and out of you slowly but firmly for a few strokes before picking up the pace. His rhythm was relentless as he fucked up into you, pistoning his hips and making your skin clap against each other.

You threw your head back as you whined and moaned at the feeling of the head of his cock bullying against your cervix. Thank god for the music outside.

John hiked up your other leg, wrapping both around his waist as he fucked you against the wall hard and needy. His eyes looked deep into your teary ones, not breaking away to not miss the gorgeous sight of his pretty wife getting fucked by him after so long. He moaned at just the look on your face, at the way your walls gripped him like a vice.

"Look at you... never lettin' go of somethin' so beautiful," he practically slurred, his rhythm becoming sloppy and desperate as he chased his high, and he knew you were close too.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and took his mouth into another starved kiss. Your hands tugged at the hair on the back of his head and you let him fuck you with the same longing and desire as the first time.

You chanted his name between breathy moans as you climbed up to your climax. John was a mumbling mess of endearments and sweet nothings as he kept thrusting hard and sloppy into your squelching pussy.

"I love you, John," you choked out through tears, not knowing if it was from the pleasure he was giving you or from the overwhelming emotion being with your husband again was making you feel.

"I fuckin' love you more, dove," he accentuated his words with thrusts until he felt your walls clamp around his length and watched as you wailed and sobbed out more moans, sending him into his own climax with just a few more pumps shortly after. You were sure you'd bear him a third child with the way his cum seeped out of you.

He rested his sweat-coated forehead against yours as you both panted. You were a flushed mess against the wall, limbs liquefied and throat raw. John slowly let you down with the utmost care in the world, gently holding you up on your feet like you were a delicate porcelain doll.

You held each other close as he peppered soft kisses on your face, the same way he'd always done after sex when you were married. John Price, always the gentleman.

You basked in the afterglow as you gazed at each other, love filling John's wide dark pupils. It was hard for you to hide the smile that tugged at your lips and it made John chuckle, thumb rubbing your cheek lovingly.

Then, you heard the rattling of the door and you quickly stood up straight and collected yourself up on your feet the best you could. Kyle, or Uncle Gaz as your kids coined him, and the other two men had burst through the lodged garage door.

"Oi, how long you two been locked here?" he questioned.

"Aye, we been callin' youse for half 'n hour," the Scott quipped behind him.

John scolded them for not acting quicker if they were so worried, and scowled at the way the younger two had shit-eating grins plastered on their faces. He dismissed them as he picked up the cooler, which was now more full of water than ice, and shot you a look.

You chided at his smirk with your bright red cheeks.

"This mean I can move back in?" he teased.

"We'll see, John" you fought back a smile.

#cod mw2 #call of duty mwii #cod fanfic #fanfic #john price #anon ask #anon request #thanks anon!#price mw2 #captain john price #captain price #price #price x reader

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

Note

Strictly Scandalous…

You first meet Hangman when he accidentally spills his drink on you at the Hard Deck turning your pretty white dress see through. Conscious of eyes on your chest he offers up his shirt to you and begins trying to learn more about you. Reader, turned on by his protective nature and sexy physical appearance, takes him outside with the intent of showing him how much she appreciated his kind gesture and charming personality only to end up receiving the best sex of her life…and possibly a date.

Listen this concept gave me literal life. I did however make a slight change and instead of sex, we went with the reader give Hangman head because that’s what my brain went to. ✌️

Warnings: This is strictly scandalous, smut ahead.

“I really am so unbelievably sorry—“ Jakes leaning over the booth to get closer to you on his elbows, his T-shirt slung over your now very see-through dress. “I just didn’t for the life of me see you standing there.”

“It’s alright, really.” You mule as you take a sip of the Canadian Club Jake had brought you as a sorry for spilling not one, not two, but three draft beers all over your pretty little ensemble. “Besides, the view ain’t that bad from where I’m sitting, so I guess you can say we’re even Stevens.”

Jake had ripped his own shirt off without a second thought, covering your exposed chest to the prying eyes of bar patrons who watched the dirty blonde, usually stable aviator stumble into you haphazardly as he momentarily lost his footing on the way over to the pool table.

It left him exposed from the waist up, which he’d normally be okay with. But Penny had a strict no nips policy and Jake hated the fact Bradley Bradshaw's Hawaiian throw over had now become his saving grace. He’d never live it down, the shirt or the fact he’d dragged you down in the depths of embarrassment with him. Jake Seresin was on a roll tonight, clearly.

“If it’s Hawaiian shirts you’re into you should be talking to Rooster—“ Jake mumbles under his breath as he watches you from across the booth twirl the little plastic straw around the vessel holding your drink of choice.

“It's not the shirt.” You simply shake your head. “And I don't do mustaches.”

“What is it that you do then?” Jake feels himself gaining some confidence back, he’s sending you one of his signature smirks and he knows just by the way you finish your drink and lean into the booth a little more to close the gap as much as you can that lingers between the two of you.

“Dirty blondes who spill beer on unassuming contacts.”

It's that comment that led you to know, with the copious amounts of alcohol flooding your systems and inability to think all that rationally, not that you didn't want to be grown on your knees in the carpark of the Hard deck. Not that you didn't want Jake's hands wrapped in your hair, helping to guide you up and down his length.

It's just that an all important question had been missed in the meet and greet part of your x-raked rendezvous. Why was Jake at a naval bar in the first place? And he certainly hadn't asked you that question either. But, it was far too late to ask now, consequences be damned you thought.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck–” Like a mantra, Jakes looking up into the heavens above as he bucks his hisp against your face, his cock disapearing and re-appearing moments after having being shoved down your warm tight throat. “Yess–ah fuck!” You've got his shirt on the ground, stopping the rocks from digging into your knees too deep as you work to work him over.

It's damn near organsmic to hear Jake, the man who'd spilt three drinks on you earlier, moan the way he was. Needy, lustful, one hand twisted in your hair while the other cups your cheek. Guiding you as you take every inch he's willing to give you. You hadnt gone into this thinking youd end up sucking Jake off, but fuck it had been one of your better ideas of the night so far.

“Fuugghh–!” Jakes flushed a red hume, it had started to creep its way up his neck from below the hawaiian button up, flushing his cheeks a pretty pink as his breathing laboured and got a little heavier with every passing second he relished in. “Feels so fucking good.”

If Jake had known that all it would take to get such a pretty girl like you down on your knees before him, sucking him senseless in the car park of the Hard Deck, was to spill a few amber beverages across your chest he would have tapped the whole damn keg months ago.

“Mmmhmm–” You simply aren't shy, moaning around Jake's cock as you look up through watery eyelashes to see him looking down at you with an open slack jaw. He has his back pressed against the side of his black F-150 and his jeans pulled down just past his hips, down enough that you could reach in and free him from the confines of his boxer briefs when you had pushed him up against the truck initially to make out.

It had been a feverish, intense hook-up. So feverish and needy that when your hand grazed against Jake's clothed cock he was already hard and standing to attention, hoping that the situation unfolding would lead to something more.

“Ah fuck, darlin, if you don’t sucking me off like that I’m gonna cum down that pretty little throat of yours.” Jakes close, he can feel his orgasm pooling at the base of his shaft. He can feel the all to familiar sensation of his balls tightening, his heart rate spiking, the need to just fuck deep into your throat overwhelming him as he let out groans and frustrated sighs, because he keeps forgetting how to fuckign breathe.

Popping your lips, you pull back and take Jake's sloppy length in your hand, pumping him as you chuckle and smile up at him.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing?” Jakes taking that as the go ahead to rail your throat. Waiting till your lips are once again wrapped around his tip before he's taking over the pace, groaning as your nose hits his manscaped pubic hair. Holding you down as he twitches and leans over you.

“OOhhhhhh fucking christ–” Tapping at his thigh, Jakes pulls your head back just to watch the tears fall freely down your cheeks as you gasp for air, only to do the same thing over and over again because it feels far too good to stop now when hes so close to cumming down your windpipe. “Baby, ahh Fuck I’m there, I’m there ohhhhh ffuugghhh–”

It's an overwhelming sensation, to have Jake buried at the hilt down your throat as he's withering away above you. His vision blurred for a minute as he felt himself releasing into your warm, tight throat. The mixture of saliva and opake cum dripping down your tongue before you swallow. Neat and tidy. “Ahhhh oh my god–”

Despite his inhibitions, Jake Seresin is a southern gentleman at heart. So when he comes down from the high you gave him, he's unlocking his truck, pulling you into it and down onto his lap. Kissing you just to taste himself on your tongue as he cups your cheeks, hot to the touch.

There's no secret just by looks alone that you are by far much younger than Jake. He knows it's not a question you ask a lady either, so he goes about it rather strategically while he's sucking against the pulse point of your neck as you grind yourself down into his lap.

“What do you do, pretty girl?” Jake's mumbling. “You know, when you aren't riding thighs in the backs of Ford trucks in car parks of bars?” And it's your answer that has Jake's voice hitching in the back of his throat. He's just gotten a new gig, as had most of the daggers–they were instructors, TopGun instructors. The newest class were starting Monday…..

“Im a naval aviator–” You moaned, pulling back just so you could rip your dress up over your head, exposing yourself to the drunk in trouble man under you. “Start at Miramar on Monday, Lieutenant Y/n Mitchell at your service.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Strictly Scandalous Jake ‘Hangman Seresin

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Strictly Scandalous Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

#ohtobeleah 3k celebration #strictly scandalous jake ‘hangman’ seresin #jake seresin x f!reader #jake hangman imagine #jake seresin fic #jake seresin smut #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #jake hangman x reader

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nnooahhsworld · 3 months

Text

YANDERE HUSKER X MASC! READER WITH FLUCTUATING APPEARENCE

SUMMARY: Headcanons of “Yandere” Husk x Reader with fluctuating appearence.

FANDOM/CHARACTER/READER: Hazbin Hotel ;; Husker ;; Masc Reader.

PAIRING: Romantic or Platonic

WARNINGS: Stalking, manipulation, overprotective and Obssesed behavior, reader being kinda mentally unstable and insecure.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: love this request by @cupophrogs!! even if this isn't really yandere, i still wanted to implied it since that what's about my account.

✧ Honestly, I can't think of any other way you can meet Husk other than walking into the hotel and staying there.

✧ At first, you are insignificant to him (as ugly as that sounds). At first.

✧ I don't think Husk is someone who is very curious. Let alone gossipy. He's not nosy about other people's lives and tends to ignore them as long as they don't mess with him.

✧ Still, he is a great listener. He is willing to listen to others and gives good advice. I mean, he died while he was an old man, something he must have learned in his human life or in his life as an Overlord.

✧ Or after delivering his soul to the radio demon.

✧ But over time, he shows you more attention. I mean, the fact that your appearance and certain physical aspects of you change depending on your mood is intriguing.

✧ Because he has seen it. Everyone has seen it.

✧ You are someone with emotional problems, sensitive to a certain point. Your moods are constantly changing and therefore, certain characteristics of yours. That managed to capture his attention rather quickly.

✧ He is interested in these changes... how your teeth and fingers become sharper, your skin/fur becomes hard as scales and even your hair grows longer when you are angry and ready to attack.

✧ How your eyes get bigger, other smaller eyes appear and you can certainly shrink a little when you are startled by being off guard or feeling threatened or in danger.

✧ As your skin/fur grows and you lock yourself in it making yourself into a ball when you are sad and don't let anyone near you as your fingers sharpen to threaten anyone.

✧ As for that, Charlie really tries to help you. She wants to be there for you when you're down like your good friend but you shut down. With her, with everyone... except with Husk.

✧ Everyone opens up to some extent with Husk. Either because they're really drunk or they seriously need someone to talk to and Charlie isn't always the best, unfortunately.

✧ Let's remember that Husk knows everyone's problems in the hotel and sooner or later, he knows yours too. How you hate to overreact to anything, how you hate to see your appearance deform and become something horrible in your eyes because of your moods.

✧ Husk feels... pity. Although, after a while he becomes more overprotective as he forms a bond with you.

✧ At a certain point, understand your self-hatred as well, it's not nice that people in general are scared of you in general because of your mere appearance.

✧ Once he knows you beyond your problems, once he sees the sinner calm instead of angry, once he knows the real you, that's when his real obsession begins.

✧ Obsession that confuses with severe concern for you and becomes suffocating.

✧ He gets to the point of following you around when you're not in the hotel. You're not someone very powerful and you're in hell itself. Everyone is crazy and you'll never be safe there. Not unless he's in the shadows, watching you warily.

✧ You feel something strange in the air... eyes staring at you, your mind screaming at you that you are not as safe as you think and consequently, small eyes appear on your face and look everywhere desperate and scared, your fingers and fangs sharpen in any alert situation.

✧ Even inside the hotel, he watches discreetly and quietly. And that's one of the reasons why you're also a little more restless and cautious: you don't stop having that uneasy feeling no matter where you go.

✧ And you go to Husk for protection and the thought only gets worse once you get close.

✧ Husk wants you to only have confidence in him.... he doesn't like it when he notices you closer to Angel Dust, when you spend more time with Sir Pentious. And if you were to become close with Alastor, Husk would go crazy.

✧ His obsession with you turns him into a paranoid overthinker. What if he makes a deal with you? What if he steals your soul? What if he takes away your freedom? What if he takes you away from him?

✧ He puts his fear into your head indirectly. Subtle warnings, reminders of how dangerous Alastor is... whatever it takes to keep you safe.

✧ He also manipulates you into not trusting others. I mean, as jealous as he gets to feel, deep down he's happy to see you making friends. But shit, he's afraid that you won't trust him anymore, that you'll stop going to him for comfort, that he won't be the only one who sees through you anymore.

✧ So go ahead, bare your fangs and claws at the others but open your arms to him... only him.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel husk #husker hazbin hotel #hazbin husker #husk hazbin hotel #husk x reader #husk x male reader #hazbin hotel x reader #male reader #x reader #yandere x reader #yandere requests #yandere #x male reader #vivziepop

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flanaganfilm · 10 months

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You have spoken about dealing with addiction in the past (congratulations on your sobriety, btw), and Hill House, Midnight Mass, Doctor Sleep, etc, all feature characters struggling with addiction. Do you find a sort of catharsis in writing those characters and their storylines, and do you find that having gone through that affects how you write those characters and their stories? p.s. if the question is too personal, I apologize. You are, of course, free to ignore it.

Happy to talk about it. I was writing about addiction long before I admitted having a problem. Looking all the way back to my student films, many years before Absentia, I can see myself starting to pick it apart. The fact is I was a really shitty drunk. I was absolutely a problem drinker. It was always that way, going back to school - I was never able to handle it, and there were times throughout my life starting very young when that thought would occur to me, and I'd get scared, and then I'd convince myself I was being dramatic and that I had no problem whatsoever.

The truth is that I didn't have an OFF switch, I was inclined to hide my drinking, and the older I got the more self-destructive I became when I was under the influence.

But I was also very committed to the belief that I could handle it, and that I didn't have an actual problem, so for years I'd coast by, telling myself whatever issues I may have had weren't so serious. "Nine times out of ten, I'm just fine - I'm the life of the party," I'd think. I wasn't, though, and soon enough it was 50/50 whether I'd have to make apologetic phone calls on a given hungover morning. And those stretches where'd I'd really let go and drink hard, the person who emerged was less and less like me. It got to the point I didn't recognize him at all - there was this stranger who lived inside, and if he got out, he was could destroy everything I held dear, and he didn't give two shits about it. Looking back at the last decade of my work with the perspective I have now, I can see an escalating subconscious urgency in the way I was talking about alcoholism and addiction. My 2003 student feature Ghosts of Hamilton Street features a wanna-be writer with a horribly self-destructive alcohol problem. The people in his life begin to physically disappear, and the world around him resets as though they never existed at all, so he's the only who notices. I was 25 years old when I made that movie, and looking at it now, the addiction issues are a huge blinking red light all over the movie. At the time, I thought it was just interesting context for the character.

I wrote the opening scene of Midnight Mass (which features Riley Flynn waking up from a blackout drunk driving session to find that he's killed someone) all the way back in 2010, eight years before I finally sobered up. That was always something I was absolutely terrified of - not that I'd die because of my drinking, but that I'd kill someone else and live with the consequences. That was probably my biggest fear for most of my life, if I'm honest. And there were mornings I'd wake up at home and wonder how the hell I'd driven myself there the night before. I remember those mornings with a stomach-turning degree of terror and shame.

It was always somewhat cathartic to write about characters with addiction issues. There's a long stretch between Absentia and Hill House where it appears that I'm not dealing with those themes in my work (though I'd argue there's a subtle addiction meditation at play in Before I Wake that I've only recently noticed), but I was also secretly working on Midnight Mass that entire time, and just pouring all of my thoughts and anxieties about alcoholism into that story. So while Oculus, Hush, Ouija: OOE, and Gerald's Game don't seem to dwell much on addiction, that's really because I was spending my nights pouring all of that into the pages of Midnight Mass, which existed alternately as a novel, a screenplay, and then a series during those years.

Working on Doctor Sleep is what brought it all to the surface for me. Stephen King's novel deals thoroughly with the theme of recovery (The Shining is about destruction of addiction, and Doctor Sleep is about the journey and reality of recovery), and a lot of people in my cast were sober. It was while we were shooting that film that I realized I needed to make a seismic change in my life.

My wife will say that reading the scene in Doctor Sleep where Dan sits at the Gold Room bar in the Overlook was when she knew I was reaching a critical moment. That scene isn't in King's book, and my first draft of that conversation between Dan and Jack was almost fifteen pages long. It's basically a prolonged argument between the addictive and sober voices in my mind, and writing that scene shook something loose in me. I stopped drinking just a few days before we filmed that scene for that movie, and I haven't had a drop since.

But for catharsis, Midnight Mass truly is the most personal piece of work I've ever made. Riley is a very thinly disguised avatar of myself. I look at that series and I see several distinct versions of myself in conversation with each other over more than a decade. I'm glad it took so long to get that show made, because if I'd made it in 2016 like I wanted to, I wouldn't have done a good job - there is no way I could have told that story until I was finally sober. If you listen closely to the AA meeting scenes between Riley and Father Paul throughout the series, you're basically looking directly into my conflicted brain over many, many years.

This year is my fifth year sober, and I spend my days happy, busy, and so grateful that I was able to make those changes before my drinking destroyed my career, my marriage, and my life. I was lucky. I am lucky. But since I finished Midnight Mass, I haven't felt that pull when I'm writing. I haven't felt those themes elbowing their way into my work. That part of me is still in here (it always will be), but I feel like I was somehow able, over many years, to coax it to sleep. I'm sure I'll return to those themes over the years, as I hope to learn more about myself and have more to say... but for now, those voices are peaceful and quiet. I have projects on the horizon that will touch on some of those things (if I'm able to make The Dark Tower, there's some wonderful elements with Eddie's addiction issues that I look forward to exploring) but it feels different.

One of the things I hold onto when I look back at that time is the hope that the work can be helpful to someone else who may struggle in a similar way. And talking to fans, I've heard here and there that it has, and that means the world to me. I think storytellers can't help but use their stories as a mirror, it's one of the ways we take ourselves apart, look at the pieces, and put them back. It's one of the only ways we can see ourselves clearly.

Sometimes we don't even realize we're doing it. It's only looking back that we can see ourselves, and our work, with any real clarity.

#midnight mass #alcoholism #sobriety

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stressfulsloth · 1 year

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I really do think it's interesting that the way DE discusses ableism gets ignored by a lot of the fanbase. Because Harry is undeniably disabled and that's a core conflict of the game. He's living in an impossible situation that so many disabled people get caught in; he's physically disabled, even more so by the end of the game after being shot, but even at the beginning of the game he struggles with nerve damage, post-polio syndrome, partial paralysis in his jaw, withdrawals, and that's not even starting on the mental illness. He is sick and cannot ever properly heal under these circumstances because he cannot stop moving forward or he will start to sink. He's living in poverty. He has no safety net. No way out of the RCM. That night in Martinaise before the beginning of the game, he tries to quit- throw everything away. He tries to end his own life and drive his car into the sea because he cannot fathom a future where he's able to get out of this alive when he's so intrinsically bound to this abusive institution that he can't escape from.

And then comes Jean, deliberately forbidding anyone from jogging Harry's memory out of spite and anger, refusing to allow anyone else to help, calling him a fucking idiot and a psychopath, asking if he can go to the toilet on his own, telling him that he doesn't deserve his disability pension because it should go to cops who gave a shit instead (nevermind that Harry has been working at burnout pace for years, he's an addict so his contributions are essentially worthless, right?). He has a conversation with Judit, right in front of Harry, on whether or not he has learning disabilities.

This guy is a very interesting character! And I'm not denying that he's likely dealt with consequences at work from Harry's illness. But he also fulfils the narrative role of being a mouthpiece for the suspicion and even outright aggression that addicts face even while trying to recover. He fulfils the role of a representative of the RCM, with the ability to approve or deny Harry’s return and in turn essentially sentence him to a slow death in the seaside village. He is not there to help; he is there to judge and observe, and then blame Harry when things go bad even though his inaction is at least in part responsible for the deaths during the tribunal. And this is all very deliberate! The RCM, and by extension the Coalition, as an organisation is failing both its officers and its citizens- Jean, by extension, is one of the officers being failed! They are underfunded, overstretched, overworked, and shouldn't even exist in the first place. The expectation on partnered officers to provide emotional support to each other is ridiculous. But instead of directing his anger upwards towards the Coalition airships or superiors at the RCM, he directs it outwards, towards 'the liberals' or towards Harry, who as a disabled addict is a pretty convenient punching bag.

His vitriol towards Harry is not supposed to be sympathetic! At least the way I read it, you're not meant to look at him and think 'oh wow Harry's struggle has been so hard for him.' You're meant to question his language, to think more deeply about how society treats addicts, how punitive measures are never going to help someone get sober, about the importance of safety nets.

#disco elysium #idk man its the social murder game people keep saying this #this is not to say that youre never meant to sympathise with jean or question Harry's actions either #like clearly pre-martinaise harry did some pretty terrible things that's undeniable #but can we do some more blaming the occupying government and structural issues for Jean's issues #and less villanising one of the best portrayals of addiction that ive seen in a long time?#please?#harry du bois #personal #suicide tw #DE rambling

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darklinaforever · 9 days

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All the posts being horrified at people shipping Edwin with the Cat King make me laugh.

The delirium of being alarmed because the Cat King would be an adult and Edwin a minor kills me with laughter.

Edwin is certainly a 16 year old ghost, but... it's all in his description. A ghost. And he's been a ghost for a long, long time.

Are you telling me that he hasn't had time to evolve in all these years, and especially since his traumatic stay in hell ?

A little logic please. Edwin does not remain at the same point as when he died, frozen forever. He’s a character with an arc and development. And then, you're not telling me that Edwin behaves like a typical immature teenager ?!

And the Cat King may be thousands of years old but he behaves very immature most of the time. In fact, you could even say like a teenage form. Objectively speaking, he does not appear morally very different from the other official adolescent characters in the show.

And then, this kind of consideration of age will always make me laugh, when we are essentially talking about two supernatural beings ! Conclusion : We don’t care about their age difference !

And let's not even talk about those who are angry with this bracelet story, while I still point out that it was literally a punishment for Edwin having performed an equivalent in terms of spell on one of his cats, with Edwin having himself been quite condescending about this / these animals about how they all look alike to him.

The bracelet is a consequence and punishment for Edwin's actions.

It's not for nothing that the Cat King tells Edwin exactly the line he told him about not seeing the evil in a little spell.

Then... accusing the Cat King of being a sexual and other abuser, as well as a potential rapist... Wtf ?

Already, it's forgotten that clearly, during the scene and all the others where the Cat King tried to seduce Edwin... Well our dear ghost seemed more than appreciative.

For those who don't understand, the Cat King is literally what allows Edwin to finally embrace his sexuality ! Without Cat King, probably no love confession to Charles !

And in fact, it's a good thing that Cat King was interested in Edwin and showed interest in him, tried to seduce him, etc. It's not negative in his purpose. Edwin is this guy who is quite stuck while the Cat King is very extroverted and helps to unblock our ghost.

It makes me laugh even more to see all these people screaming in defense of Edwin, his physical integrity, etc, while our ghost boy... well he clearly wouldn't have been against kissing the Cat King and maybe even more at the beginning.

Need to watch their scenes again properly... Edwin's body language doesn't show that he's uncomfortable.

Okay maybe he is, but in the sense that the Cat King reminds him of his lack of experience, but beyond that, very clearly, in general, around the Cat King, (except when he takes the appearance of Charles, obviously he feels uncomfortable in that moment) Edwin seems simply extremely attracted to the Cat King / receptive to his advances :

Same with all those people being mad that the Cat King forced Edwin to tell the truth.

I repeat... THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE POSITIVE FOR EDWIN ! THIS ALLOWS HIM TO EVOLVE ON HIMSELF !

I'm not saying that the Cat King behaves morally (as for offering Edwin to sleep with him in exchange for his freedom before offering to count the cats, or forcing him by magic to reveal what he really thinks), not at all. He is clearly a form of antagonist / anti-hero, neither good nor bad, and finally rather neutral in the plots of the show.

But this character and actions essentially only serves the positive evolution of Edwin's character regarding everything related to sexuality, but not just that, also his emotional relationships with other men AKA Charles. Again, without the Cat King Edwin probably wouldn't have confessed his feelings to Charles. So the Cat King essentially allows Edwin to fully embrace who he is as an individual, his complete identity.

And it's nothing new that a morally questionable character with morally questionable actions has this kind of role in relation to the protagonist.

Seriously, the antagonist who allows the hero's sexual awakening, as well as its deepening on itself is as old as time. Even more so when this antagonist and hero share similar characteristics such as their loneliness.

Besides, it's not for nothing that the first real kiss that Charles gives himself to someone is to the Cat King (especially after all this talk about kissing and Edwin finally understanding their appeals), even if it's on the cheek that still a kiss. A second kiss more precisely, which he gives on his own and which is much better than his first with the crow.

Crying foul about this makes me wonder what universe these people who are complaining live in as for the codes of fiction. Again, people who cannot see beyond the surface should not be allowed to open their mouths.

#cat king #the cat king #edwin payne #edwin x cat king #cat king x edwin #edwin and cat king #cat king and edwin #dead boy detectives #catwin

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creedslove · 1 year

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DESERVE IT - PART FOUR

Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: after the traumatic night you were doing your best to keep things to yourself, but when a co-worker begins to bother you, you make a decision that brings consequences no one imagine and now it's Javier's turn to take your side, despite the bad situation involving the two of you

Warnings: angst, hurt, mentions of smut, kind of unrequited love, sexual harassment, violence, verbal abuse like a lot of verbal abuse, physical abuse, protective Javier, this one is heavy sorry

A/N: Idk I was so invested in this chapter because reader is me (us) and I love the drama

• PART ONE

• PART TWO

• PART THREE

3.6k words

The reflection that stared back at Javier in the mirror disgusted him to no end.

He hated every single detail about it, its looks, its attitude, its job, its shitty choices.

Javier Peña hated himself.

He was a low life, he knew that and never actually hid it, but to know you now, not only knew for a fact he was one, but told him to his face made it everything worse.

He wasn't a hypocrite, he knew you were right, he was never going to try to convince you otherwise, there was no mistake, no misinterpretation in the world that could somehow lessen what he'd done to you.

He'd ghosted you, ignored you, been cold, rude, he'd complained about how well you treated him, even if that was the only good thing he had in his life. The kindness he received from you without expecting anything in return was something he should've refused but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

And he knew he should've kept to himself the moment you refused his flirting. That was what he did to the very few women who refused him, but he just couldn't resist.

The way you laughed softly and bit your lips, an adorable pink spreading on your beautiful face as you leaned closer and watched him up and down.

"If it weren't for the heartbreak I still got, I'd be under you right now" you chuckled "and then I'd be on top of you and if you really played your cards right, I'd be on my hands and knees" you burst out laughing, sipping the drink he'd paid you and looking down in embarrassment.

That was your first ever interaction outside the office and after you were bluntly honest with him, he wasn't able to let you go.

You were too good, too pretty, too funny and too damn sexy.

After that, he promised himself he wouldn't let you get hurt, but he couldn't stay away. Each time your face lit up when he said something about your nails, or how you smiled when he called you a pet name and the next thing Javier leaving small gifts on your desk.

It was stupid, he felt so dumb when you arrived at work and saw the small chocolates, or the flowers, but the moment you smiled at him and rushed to his desk to thank him, it made it all worth it.

Then you began hanging out on the weekends too, at first it was a shy restaurant recommendation, that quickly turned into a ride to the restaurant and that evolved into lunch or dinner together.

During the week, the smell of food coming from your apartment was tempting, and though Javi salivated just to picture how good it would be to have some homemade food again, he was too embarrassed to knock on your door and ask for a plate.

As if you'd read his mind you knocked on his door, offering some and that became a habit.

You were right when you rubbed on his face he enjoyed being treated like your boyfriend, he really did. That way he could be near you and daydream about how things could be if he were a different man.

He never meant to hurt you, but he began hurting you by letting you in, by not pushing you away when he had the opportunity to do so. He knew you, he knew you were past the relationship feelings a long time ago, maybe you didn't tell yourself that, but he could tell you liked him in a way it was fair to you, because he liked you just as much, though it took him some time to bring himself to admit it himself he was in love.

But nothing good ever came from that.

Even the times Javier was actually in love, it faded as quick as it started. He was a guy that had passions, but they never lasted. So he couldn't do that to you. He couldn't let you think you two could be together knowing some day he would probably wake up and see his feelings for you had changed, while you were stuck in love with someone who didn't deserve you.

He couldn't be like your ex, he hated that motherfucker with passion. Since the first time you mentioned your heartbreak, under all the amusement he felt at your words, he also felt a hint of anger. He didn't understand how a man could hurt a woman like you.

You'd never told him exactly what had happened, and he never asked. It was pretty simple to him: if you wanted Javier to know, you'd tell him eventually.

Of course he couldn't help wondering what he'd done to you. Several times Javi lay on his bed thinking of your past relationship. He assumed the guy had cheated, that was a real good reason for someone to become brokenhearted but he had a feeling that it could be more than that. Maybe he'd got someone else pregnant? It was one of the theories Javi came up with.

When Steve had one drink after the other after work the day he actually got his shit back together after crying over Connie for weeks, he got tipsy and talkative, and he blabbered everything you'd confided in him.

You'd been left at the altar by your fiance.

You'd been left in front of everybody, family, friends, co-workers, while wearing a beautiful wedding dress that you picked so carefully, in order to make that day perfect in every way.

Your fiance had publicly humiliated you just like Javier did with fiancee a decade prior.

Javier hated your ex with passion for what he did to you, and he hated himself even more to know that in a way, he was also that guy.

He had to try and stop you from getting even more hurt by being around him, but just like everything in life, he screwed things up.

When you woke up the morning after that horrible night, you wanted to disappear. You groaned as a pounding headache reminded you constantly of your very poor choices the night before and you closed your eyes wishing as hard as you could that what had happened would be just an awful nightmare and nothing more.

But you needed to face reality.

But reality could wait a little, so you spent the weekend locked in your apartment, literally playing dead, not wanting to see anyone as you thought about everything you were doing in life, you were so tired of that situation, tired of Javier, tired of your feelings for him. You were also tired of what was about to come, you just wished your heart would stop aching like it did.

When Monday came, you ignored everyone and did your job. You went out for lunch on your own and returned for another shift of not making visual contact with anyone and praying that lump in your throat that suffocated you would go away.

Javier and Murphy kept their voices low, so you didn't distinguish what they talked about, eventually you felt their gaze on you, which you also ignored.

Steve looked around nervously at Javier who just looked away, avoiding you as much as you did him, but continued walking towards your desk, stopping right in front of it and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Um… Y/N?" Murphy smiled nervously "Javi and I left some reports with you last week because you were helping us with it and Messina wants them… where are they?"

You bit your lips at the urgent need of bursting out laughing at his face.

After everything they'd done, Steve had blabbered about your personal life and Javier… well, you didn't even like to remember it, they still wanted you to do their job?

You thought of many ways you could snap in front of them, make a scandal and have the entire office's attention on them, but you quickly gave up, instead, you raised your head with a sweet smile

"Oh sorry Steve, I forgot them at home, but they'll be here first thing in the morning" you assured them.

When both Javier and Murphy got to work the next day they found a huge pile of unfinished documents to fill. They looked at each other in confusion but what you'd done quickly sank in. For one second, they were both naive to the point of actually believing you would help them do their job after what happened.

•••

Three weeks had passed since the Javier incident and you'd never been more isolated from everyone. As Javi used to be your favorite person to hang out, you still talked to Steve and Connie, and some other people from the office, but you ended up distancing yourself and they didn't seem to be too eager to get your company, so it was not like they missed you.

Steve was still single, going to bars almost every night but also managing to be a functional drunk by day and work as a cop.

As for Javier you didn't know and you didn't care, sometimes you could smell coffee coming from his apartment, or cooking oil, which meant he was probably making himself some french fries. He loved them just like the man child he was.

You also didn't hear any commotion from his place, which meant whoever he was fucking was being silent.

You missed him on a daily basis, everything reminded you of Javi and sometimes it even took you some time to process you weren't friends anymore when you saw something nice or funny and wanted to show him.

But at the same time, you also felt proud of yourself for working on your emotional detachment from him. The first few days you thought it was impossible to be away from him, but you were getting by.

On the other hand, one consequence of Javi's distance from you was the fact that Carlos took it as an invitation to hit on you.

He started small, discret, but consistent. At first he just left small chocolates around your desk because he was so pathetic he had to imitate Javier, not being able to come up with an idea on his own.

You always got rid of them by placing them on Steve's desk when he wasn't around which led him to think they were a gift from Colleen. You chuckled to yourself when you heard his theory. You knew the fire was about to spread in that department but you simply didn't care. You wanted them all to fuck off.

Then Carlos left you post its with several messages. They started humble and innocent, calling you pet names and other stuff, but after a while they started to become spicy, until he left you full, explicit words of what he would like to do with you in that ugly, sloppy handwriting of his.

You kept them all in your drawer, you knew when the time was right you'd be able to use them in your favor.

The morning you decided to wear a pencil skirt to work was when everything began going to shit. First, Javier's jaw dropped; he couldn't even pretend he didn't acknowledge your existence anymore. Instead, he just followed you with his eyes all around the office, like an animal and he didn't even care.

His jeans got tighter and he would let Pablo Escobar produce all the cocaine in the world if he could only know if you were wearing panties along that skirt or not.

The mere idea of you bare under that teasing outfit in your workplace was enough to send shivers down his spine. It was enough to take all his focus away and the only picture in Javier's mind was to have you sitting on his desk, legs spread wide while he had his face buried between your folds. At that moment, he wanted to be nothing but your fuck boy, to make it up to you by fucking you like no other.

"We gotta go, perv" Murphy interrupted his wet daydreams and reminded him they'd have to go to the streets.

Carlos took their departure as an invitation to come closer, and as you grabbed yourself a cup of water he slapped your ass.

"Ay que culo sabroso princesa" he whispered into your ear, without warning and making you spill some of your water. He laughed softly "leaving a wet path for me already?"

Your blood boiled, if you had access to a gun you knew you would probably shoot that pig in the face, you wanted to scream at the top of your lungs until someone actually put you out of your misery.

You were so fed up, so tired, so angry with men taking everything from you. Your fiance, Javier, Murphy, Carlos… you felt you couldn't even live your life without having one of them ruining some aspect of it somehow. It stirred something in you and an idea popped into your head. You took a deep breath and controlled yourself again, you were going to make him pay, because if one of them got punished, the others would learn from the lesson.

You turned to him and smirked.

"You're all talk and no action. You've been dropping little dirty notes on my desk like a horny teen and made no moves… are you even interested in me?" You batted your eyes at him.

Carlos frowned softly and chuckled.

"I thought you hated me, you went pretty feral when I talked about Peña a while ago, didn't ya?"

"I did, but Peña is no longer in the picture and I heard hate fucks can be even better than love ones… I haven't tried these yet, but maybe you could help me with that?" You smirked and took his hand writing down the address to a shady hostel known by the cops who investigated downtown.

"Eight PM. Bring a bottle of wine and a bottle of lube, ya que te gusta mi culo" you whispered and saw the color drain from his ugly, pathetic face. "Nobody will suspect a cop and an assistant carrying out an investigation there, right?" You winked at him and walked away.

Carlos believed you so easily for a second you though he was the one messing with you, but turns out he was just simply and straight up stupid.

The next step was easy.

You excused yourself to mail some documents and on your way back you also mailed the collection of obscene post-its to Carlos' house, where his wife received them. The last one had the time and the address she should go to.

And the rest was history.

When morning came, gossip spread through the office like wildfire, thanks to Colleen who heard it from a cop, who heard it from another and by 9AM everyone knew agent Carlos Galindo had been caught red-handed by his wife who immediately pulled out a huge scene dragging attention from the whole block.

There was crying, screaming, slapping, scratching and accusations, and according to Colleen, Mrs.Galindo had kicked him out of home and forbade him from seeing the kids.

Apparently a mysterious woman had set the whole thing up, and no one knew her identity.

Though Murphy had a pretty good idea, he shot you a smirk "don't you think it's a whole lotta coincidence Carlos got into this shit now that he'd been harrassing you?"

ou shrugged and smiled big, it was the first time Javier had seen you smile for real in almost a month and he cursed himself to see his heart skipped a beat.

"Well, I know some men think they can get away with everything, but they gotta learn they can't just play with women as if we were nothing" you accidentally glanced at Javier and he caught your eyes. Shit.

You cleared your throat and hoped you weren't blushed "anyway, whoever did this knew he deserved it" you winked at Steve and went back to work.

You were finishing another report, going over the spelling again to make sure there were no mistakes when a commotion dragged your attention.

You could hear some muffled voices which became loud as someone approached the room. You looked at Javier and Murphy, the three of you confused at what the heck was going on.

Colleen's voice wasn't much more than a nervous squeak, telling whoever the person that was coming wasn't a good idea.

And then you saw him.

Carlos was standing there, fuming, with red blood eyes, looking like he hadn't seen a shower in ages, still with his work uniform and staring at you with a death glare.

Anyone could see he was clearly out of his mind, but everyone seemed to look at him in a mix of awe and curiosity.

You thought it was so amusing to see him in that shitty state, but your smile immediately died when you saw him taking some steps towards you. He had a bottle of wine in hands and his lips twitched in an attempt of a smile which turned into a sinister face.

"Buenos días puta" he said "I waited for you last night, but you never showed up, whore. My wife did though and she wasn't happy about it, and I bet my heavy balls you were the cum dumpster slut who called her" he said getting near your desk at the same time Javier stood up, calling Carlos' name in order to draw attention to himself, but he was ignored.

"I'm such a gentleman I even brought you your bottle of wine, I hope you enjoy it, puta" he said angrily before shattering the bottle against the edge of your desk and spilling wine all over the floor. Carlos' hand immediately yanked a handful of your hair and pulled you against his body, pointing the sharp glass towards your neck.

Murphy and Javier began trying to talk to him, in order to distract the man and get you safely out of his hands.

The grip on your hair was painful and though you didn't think Carlos would do it, you couldn't help but being scared.

"You're nothing but a bitch, a cum dumpster for the guys in the office, you are worthless Y/N, you destroyed my marriage and now you'll pay, you'll s-"

Carlos was interrupted mid sentence when Javier elbowed his ribs as hard as he could, ignoring completely his police training that was clear when it said the agents should keep calm in a dangerous situation, he just went to action. He didn't give a shit if Murphy wanted to follow the protocol, he wouldn't stand there and watch that motherfucker talk to you like that, let alone try to hurt you.

Carlos dropped the sharp bottleneck and gasped for air, as you ran away from his grip and didn't know what to do.

He immediately turned to Javier, all his anger focused on the man, as they began a real dog fight, Carlos threw a few punches at Javier, but he stepped over the spilled wine and fell onto the floor. Peña didn't think twice before kicking him, not caring if he was already down. Carlos managed to stand up even though he struggled and laughed softly as found you pressed against the wall, watching the scene with horror in your eyes.

"You're scared now? Don't be, malparida. Save your scared look for when I'm fucking all of your tight pretty holes until you are crying and bleeding and whimpering for your manwhore prince charming to save you" he said darkly "I'll do you worse than any Escobar men would"

Everybody went silent when you heard the click of a gun's safety. Carlos went dead quiet when he felt the cold metal against his neck.

You could barely believe the scene of Javier standing there, pointing a gun at a fellow cop just to defend you. Murphy also tried to calm the both of them down, but at that moment you felt as if you'd gone deaf. All you could hear was Javier's words.

"Turn around, Carlos. Turn around nice and slowly" he commanded in a surprisingly calm voice and the disgusting man who had just been making horrible threats looked like a scared stray dog, obeying Javier, he meet his angry eyes.

"Now you listen to me… you will never get near Y/N again, got it? Never!!! You will never step into the same room she's in, you will never call her those things, got it? She's not a puta, she's not a whore, she's not a cum dumpster… You deserved what happened to you and if you make Y/N slightly uncomfortable I'll shoot you in the face" Javi lowered his aim a little, now his gun pointed right between Carlos' eyes.

"I'll do you worse than Escobar men would"

The man went completely silent as he remained at Javier's gunpoint.

No matter how many times Murphy and other people that arrived just in time to watch the grotesque scene asked Peña to calm down. He would still hold his gun against Carlos, the waves of rage flowing through his body as he thought of every second of what that animal had done to you.

His heart was racing with adrenaline and he felt an urge to pull the trigger.

He just came back to his senses when he felt a soft, warm hand on his arm, looking at it and recognizing the pretty nails done just like he loved observing.

"Javi… put the gun down please"

Your voice calling his name after so long of being ignored. He wasn't Peña, he wasn't Javier. He was Javi. He was your Javi again, at least that was what he hoped for.

He looked at you and saw your scared eyes, finally putting his gun down just like you'd asked for and nodded at you.

"It's okay, it's over now, cariño, I'm here to protect you"

_____

A/N: did you guys go soft for Javi now?