#a drabble a day keeps the writers block away

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

April Drabbles - 14/31

Prompt: Smiling

Pairing: Geto x Fem! Reader

Geto always had a smiling face and you hated it. You knew he only did it to maintain a facade, to ease out uncomfortable situations. 

When he’s around you the smile drops, almost like he’s relieved that he doesn’t have to pretend anymore. You let him put his head on your lap, loosening his hair from the bun he wears, scratching his scalp with your nails, watching the tension slide out of his face.

“I’m sorry I can’t be more cheerful around you,” he murmurs, stroking your cheek as you massage his scalp. You lean down and press a kiss to his forehead.

“It’s ok. I get every other part of you. I can live without a few smiles.”

April 2024 Drabbles Masterlist

divider by @/ saradika prompts by @/ creativepromptsforwriting

[blkkizzat]

ღ𝙏𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙂𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙨 & 𝙎𝙢𝙤𝙤𝙩𝙝 𝘾𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙨 ღ

11/14: Werewolf!Toji Part 2 up now!

Halloween is my fav holiday and Horror is my fav movie genre so how could I not participate in a SPOOKY KINKTOBER!

All inspired by my favorite horror villains!

Song Inspo: Thriller & Smooth Criminal General CW: Blood play might be heavy in a few of these. Dubcon or Noncon in most of these but the reader will enjoy/consent by the end. Death but only of minor/NPC no name characters(ie, your fuckass bf, bitchy chem professor, next door neighbor, mailman, etc) and manipulation. Schedule: There will be no order. But for the month of October I will only be focusing on these until I finish. Subject to change if I hit writers block or I may add more (but doubt it as classes start end of this month). Tag: will tag works #☾﹒✖☠𝘬𝘪𝘻𝘻𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘳

ღ𝙂𝙞𝙧𝙡, 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙂𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙮ღ

FreddyKruger!Sukuna

Kink Tags: Teratophilia, Size Difference, Virgin, Chasity Synopsis: Teens in town have been dying in their sleep from horrible dreams. Hard up virgin Y/N won't take sleeping pills to stop dreaming because she only gets relief in her wet dreams. What will happen when Sukuna (true form) enters them? WC: ?

Sadako!Geto

Kink Tags: Voyerism, Squirting, Overstimulation Synopsis: Camgirl!Reader hasn't been able to make herself squirt yet and is teased by her chat. She buys a new toy and downloads a random porn an anon user sent her "guaranteed to make you squirt" but is it just a normal porn? Or is there something more sinister on it? WC: ?

Werewolf!Toji

[Part 1 ღ Part 2] - Finished! Kink Tags: Breeding, Dacryphilia, Aphrodisiac  Synopsis: Catching him in a lie, you suspect your boyfriend Toji is cheating on you. Where does he keep disappearing to once a month that keeps him away for often days at a time. You're fed up. You've made up your mind this time to follow him but are you ready for what you discover? WC: 10.4k

ღ𝙔𝙤𝙪’𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙗𝙮 𝙖 𝙎𝙢𝙤𝙤𝙩𝙝 𝘾𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡ღ

Ghostface!Choso

[Part 1 ღ Part 2] - Finished! Kink Tags: Clothed Male/Naked Female, Thigh Riding, Knife Play Synopsis: The university campus is being terrorized by a copycat Ghostface killer. As a popular sorority girl with a dumb jock bf, you are a prime choice to be his next victim especially given how he can't stop thinking about you. But you're no ordinary Sorority Girl bimbo, now are you? WC: 15.4k

Hannibal!Nanami

Kink Tags: Olfactophilia, Body Worship, Menophilia Synopsis: You're immensely grateful for your kind, empathetic and open-minded (not to mention very handsome) psychiatrist Nanami who has gotten you through some very rough patches in your life. However when you show up at his home office for unannounced session and discover him preparing dinner, are you whats next on the menu? WC: ?

InvisibleMan!Gojo

Kink Tags: Mirror Sex, Frottage, Stalker Synopsis: Fed up with his antics and him ignoring you, you breakup with your tech genius boyfriend Gojo. It's been a month and you've started to move on with your life but odd occurrences have been happening around you and you have the feeling you are being watched 24/7. You need a vacay and your friend Shoko offers up her lake cabin. Will you be safe there? Or will whoever is watching you have you right where they want you? WC: ?

BONUS: Free for all section of general Halloween themes if I finish all the rest or need to do a quick drabble to cure writers block.

Why you can’t watch scary movies with JJK men - Drabble, 2k words

Trick or Treat Anthology or Halloween Fluff with JJK Men - Fic 10k

JJK Men Slutty Halloween Costumes - Ask

If i have time I will do Cult/Ritual Sex/Gangbang on reader. With most if not all JJK men listed here

Not poppin' enough for an official taglist but if you are interested in any of these stories let me know and I will tag you. ETA - 11/21 still taking adds as I do plan to finish the rest, eventually.

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ.

Glitter text created @ Pookatoo.com

[unreliablesnake]

That's a first (Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader)

Summary: You invite Ghost to a wedding, but end the conversation with something you shouldn't have said.

Note: Just a short drabble. I have a massive writer's block. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button. I don't have a taglist.

Warnings: afab!reader, suggestive themes.

••••••••

“A friend invited me to her wedding and it’s two weeks from now,” you began as you ran your hand down Ghost’s vest, your eyes fixed on his masked face as you talked. “I was wondering if you’d like to be my plus one if we make it back in time.”

You had been flirting with each other for long months now, but Ghost only made a move at the beginning of your last mission. “I didn’t want to be compromised,” he had told you, his fingers running down your arms as he spoke. “But I really, really like you, and it would be hard to work with you if I didn’t tell you how I feel.”

The rest was history. You had spent quite a lot of time together on your days off, getting familiar with each other both emotionally and physically. This man was too good for his own good, but for some reason he didn’t seem to acknowledge that.

Ghost let out a deep, humming sound as he thought about your suggestion. It was okay, accompanying someone to a wedding was a big step, it was understandable that he wanted to think about it. But then he put his hands on your waist, pulling you a little closer. “What would I get in return?” he asked you seriously, although you could tell he had a playful smile on his lips under the mask.

“Me in a brand new set of sexy lingerie. And you could also do whatever you want to do to me in bed,” you replied suggestively, flashing a flirtatious smile at him.

“I could even tie you to the bed so I could eat you out and finger you until you’re begging me to stop and fuck you?” With a laugh you nodded. “Sounds good to me. I love to see you fall apart like that.”

You stood on your toes and placed a soft kiss on his mask where his lips were. “But I’ll have to keep an eye on you when we are there, because I know a single friend of mine who simply loves tall, handsome and muscular guys like you. But you’re mine, and I won’t let you get away that easily.”

“I promise I won’t leave your side during the wedding and I won’t talk to any of your friends without you,” he assured you as his gloved hand brushed your cheek.

A dreamy smile appeared on your lips as you listened to him. “You can talk to whoever you want, Simon, unless they’re females and singles,” you said with a laugh. “I love you.”

Wait, what did you just say? The thought of this slipping out of your mouth scared you, because you didn’t think you were at this point in your relationship. You could see Ghost’s eyes go wide from surprise as well. Mentally scolding yourself for your stupidity, you bit on your lower lip and waited for his response.

Instead of talking, he pulled up his mask a little and leaned down to kiss you softly. “I love you too,” he told you eventually with a smile on his lips.

[plutokoo]

Maybe a bit weird but yandere big bad wolf jk and small sheep oc/yn?

pairing : yandere wolf jk x fem sheep hybrid reader

genre : smut, yandere

A/N : a quick smutty drabble rn because I'm writing a one shot for it and it's halfway done. I just need to do a quick dump bcs the one shot is kinda long and it's making me hit writers block 😭😭😭😭. this might not be the best tbh but I promise the one shot will be way better.

yandere wolf jk who's a perfectionist at uni never missing a class, always has a 4.0 GPA and never failed to made it in to the deans list.

and then one day he saw you, barging in to the class late mumbling sorry and sitting right in front of him,your scent covering his nose almost instantly,his ears tensing up as he grumble mate slightly under his breath.

he reached for you after class finished, hands grabbing your arm tightly, he leaned his face in, a wolfish grinned adorning his face as he greeted you

you who was timid,fearful and easily panicked,breathed out your name gently hands shaking from the sudden interaction. you can't help it of course it's in your nature to act that way :(

before he could ask you about how he's never seen you in the class before, you snatched your arms from him, legs stuttering to get out of the room as fast as you can, his scent was overwhelming, making your thoughts go hazy from fear.

jungkook frowned as your figure scrambled out, hands forming a fist as he make a silently vow to himself to get you again.

he met you again next on the campus hallway, hands barely holding on to the thick text books you carried as you sauntered around,trying to get into the professor office before bumping against some jock, your knees crashing on the hard tiles as the books fell from your grasp, gasp leaving your lips from the pain. the hallway turned silent, people watching you trying to gather books, you wanted to wailed from the attention you're receiving, your knees ached from the impact,blood oozing out from the cuts it received

jungkook immediately rushed up to you, shooing people away as he kneeled down, his hands quickly collect the books as he helped you stand up. he cooed at the fat tears that was sliding down your face, "its okay baby you're okay they're gone know" he fussed wiping your tears away

you sobbed,wiping your face at the sleeve of your sweater, the nickname he gave you went unnoticed as he continued to caressed your face.

"let me help you bring these and then we'll go to the infirmary to take care of your knees, okay?" he offered not giving you time to answer before he grabbed your hands,his other hand holding the books easily as he sauntered to the office

after that it was easy for jungkook to make you his,everyday he would take you out for coffee,sit beside you in class, and helped doing your assignments. he'd pamper you endlessly, slowly convincing you to sleep at his place instead because it was too dangerous for you to sleep alone and you who was dumb,naive and gullible believed everything he said.

he'd make you move to his apartment too, because it's such a hassle for his baby to be going back and forth at all and he doesn't like the thought of you being all alone so please move in with me baby, I don't like being apart from you :((((

jungkook Hates when you start talking or making friends with other people because you're his and only his to have, it's not hard to make you stop talking to these people of course, your timid nature making it easy for him to remove people from your life.

he'd tell you everyday, gaslighting you into thinking about how your friends view you as an easy target and how you will always be a Second choice to them, how you would easily get stampede if you keep hanging around with people other than him.

you'd believed everything he said, the thought of leaving the home you thought as a safe place become more and more distasteful making you switch all your classes to online instead, which ofcourse was jungkooks Idea.

jungkook loves to fuck you, he loves rubbing your wet pussy through your panties while you're sleeping, hips unconsciously humped against his hands as moans left your lips,his hands would move the panties sideways, thumbs slowly rubbing your clit, drawing 8 figures on it making you reach your qlimax, soft pants leaving your lips.

he'd fuck you on top of the kitchen counter, your front leaning on it, clit grazing against the counters corner everytime he thrust forward. cold marble pressing against your chest as jungkook pulled your hair back, his hand reaching down to pinch your nipple making you squeeze more around his cock

"aah...aah ple..please" you mewl hands rubbing your clit, desperate to reach your orgasm. jungkook grunts, his hands smacked you ass,groaning as he watched it jiggle "please what slut", he rasped hips bucking faster as he leaned down, lips sucking your necks making your eyes rolled back from the pleasure

"uh...ugh...cum please" you cried out, jungkook reached down hands smacking your pussy as he yanked your hair back "fuck..baby..cum" he choked, you wailed as you squirt against him,body trembling, eyes rolling back as your pussy pulsate againts his cock. "fuck fuck fuck" jungkook sobbed out as he reached his climax, filling your hole with so much cream it drips out.

he pulled out,wincing slightly before plugging his hand up your hole, preventing his cum from dripping down your hole "can't let this go to waste hm".

jungkook loves it when you got your heat he'd fuck you on every surface in the house. he'd fuck you on the couch when the movie's still playing,on the bathtub while letting the shower jet hits your clit , on the floor where he'd fuck you so hard you could barely from a sentence.

jungkook loves you so much he'd kill for you. he would easily get rid of anyone that he thinks might be a threat to your relationship.

he'd do anything for you as long as you don't leave his side,so don't even try to think about doing it it okay?.

[cyberchronics]

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

jjk men + their love languages

☆ feat. satoru gojo + suguru geto ☆

★ straight up fluff, gn reader, no warnings apply ★

satoru gojo - quality time + gift giving

Satoru loves taking you out on the town. Restaurants, jewelry, clothing... you name It, and he's already dragging you towards the most expensive place in town. It doesn't matter how many times you two go on your weekly tours of Japan's shopping districts, he'll trip over himself for any opportunity to take you out and parade you around like some type of prize.

There's no greater joy to him than laying back on the plush couch in your favorite store and watching as you make yourself his model. He'll complement some clothes and tease you with others, watching with a stupid grin as you coyly ask him to buy the one outfit he seems to like the most as if you don't know he always comes behind you and gets whatever you leave behind.

The price tag is irrelevant. Hell, Satoru couldn't care less about the money he drains from his bank account on a daily basis. What he's focused on is the experience of shopping, the time you two manage to spend bonding over something as stupid as what fabric blend looks the best on your figure (spoilers: his answer is simultaneously all of them and none.)

You always give him the sweetest kiss whenever you two get home, too. Pulling off the sunglasses obscuring his crystalline eyes and cupping his cheek, dragging him down slightly and pressing your lips against his own. It makes him dizzy with love, head swimming with thoughts of you as he cages you against his chest and pulls you into another slow kiss.

suguru geto - quality time + acts of service

It's no secret that Suguru is a busy man. Every day is dedicated to running the cult: attending meetings, planning missions, and chiseling away at his goal bit by bit. The cycle never fails to leave him exhausted, slouched over a cup of coffee as he reads through senseless reports and suggestions that'll end up in the trash right next to the others. Despite the headache that seems to constantly plague him he still finishes as the clock strikes nine. sighing and dragging himself away from work.

If it wasn't for you, he'd be sleeping at his desk every night. But the idea of you all alone in bed makes his heart squeeze, his footsteps heavy as he wills himself to trudge through the streets that always seem to be crowded. He's just happy that you live so close, only a few minutes from his warm embrace at any given moment. It lets him take a short detour to a small bakery nearby, picking you up a treat despite his tiredness.

He knows it's worth it when you jump into his arms, almost knocking the cake to the floor as he's pulled into a hug. You're entirely too high-strung for how late at night it is, peppering kisses all over his face and making him melt against your lips. His only response is a smile, reciprocating the action with a gentle kiss on the top of your head and setting the box on the table.

Suguru can’t help but make himself stay up with you. It feels as if you can ramble on about the smallest things, especially once you spend twenty minutes answering something so simple as “How was your day?” But the last thing on his mind is complaining, even as he struggles to keep his eyes open. Your voice is calming, pulling him to the edges of sleep like the softest lullabies. He’ll feel bad about it in the morning, but his body finally succeeds in making him rest. Hopefully, you'll accept his apology in the form of another present.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

a/n: sorry about the dead air writer's block is a bitch :3 srry this is a little lazy but expect a gojo or choso fic by march + first multipost!! idk if I'll make more but they're nice little drabbles

[nanqmies]

Priest!Baizhu | Drabble+ Hc

tw: lowkey manipulative baizhu?? creampie, masturbation, semi-public sex, very religious themes, m!reader, dubcon?? idk, if i forgot anythin please inform me!!

wc: 0.7k

a/n: i do apologize for not postin that much!! i have a lot going on 𖦹 ´ ᯅ ` 𖦹 , writers block is kickin my ass.. i do have fics in the works!! m tryna to make everything more pleasin to the eye, i will try to make a masterlist soon ^^ please enjoy my work.♡

nsfw under the cut~

Priest!Baizhu; who kindly welcomed you to the church with open arms, always inviting you to his sermons to listen to him preach the words of archon. Seeming so kind, a humble smile always on his face while preaching at the stand, welcoming others into the church. Soft voice filling the room as he spoke, sending heat down to the deepest parts of you.. Utterly mesmerizing, the way his soft eyes scanned over the room, pushing up his glasses when the slide down the slope of his nose. His eyes ended up being on you at the end of the day.

Priest!Baizhu; who listens to every single time you avow your deep urges, whispering in shame of the sinful thoughts that constantly flooded your mind when you thought of him. How shameful you are, giving into the hands of sin,, you never notice how his eyes darken as he listens, Priest baizhu is a mysterious man they say..

Priest!Baizhu; who can’t help but laugh at how cute you are, trusting him with all the little things you’ve told him behind the confessional walls. How much you yearned for a certain mans touch against your untouched skin, to ruin the only true form of purity you had.

Priest!Baizhu; who pops a boner whenever you sob and beg archons to forgive you and your misbehaviors. Maybe he should feel bad,, clearly your faith was a big part of living, but god the tears flowing down the apples of your cheeks make him want to ruin you. Wiping your tears with his thumbs, whispering prayers whilst rubbing your back softly,, telling you everything will be okay when he’s there. That he’ll gracefully listen to any of the problems you may have,, hushing your hiccuping sobs. he hopes you don’t notice the tent in his pants

Priest!Baizhu; who ends up touching himself after speaking to you, lightly rubbing his glands with his fingertips, smearing thick beads of pre over his length. Baizhu obviously knows how perverted he is, thinking of ruining you, rutting his hips against his clasped palm. Sticky white covering his thin fingers, he sighs and takes off his glasses. A light layer of sweat over his forehead, you’ve clouded his mind for weeks.

Priest!Baizhu; who (sometimes) when he’s feeling risky will tread his hands down his pants while listening to your voice in the confessional, shallowly stroking his shaft trying to keep in his breathy groans. Nearly coming in his pants when your voice is laced with shame. A small part of him wishes you’d hear him, hear him pleasing himself at the sound of your soft voice.

Priest!Baizhu; who always tells you that ‘Theres nothing wrong with such urges ’ whispering in your ears, his hands brushing against your thighs gently pushing them apart.. just enough for your eyes to meet his, a smile painted against his pretty pink lips

was his smile always this unsettling?

Priest!Baizhu; who ends up fucking you in the the confessional booth, ripping off your modest attire, defiling you in public, shushing you when you get too loud reciting the words from the holy book in his hand. Ripping away the only form of purity you had, taking your virginity as retribution for your sins. Baizhu’s thumbs pressed harder into your hips, he can barely keep in the groans that bless his lips. Committing such sacrilege in the house of the lord above, turned him on in such a way.

‘It’s the only way you’ll be forgiven’

Priest!Baizhu; who comforts you when his cocks aggressively enter and leave your sex, shushing your tears and promising that you’ll be reborn pure after he blows his load into you. His words singing false promises into your ears, its oddly comforting.. the feeling of being so full in his warm embrace,,

Priest!Baizhu; who thinks about making you worship him instead, shouldn’t you be begging him to save you? Maybe he hasn’t fucked the greedful lust out of your system yet.. Every session ends up with you bent over while Baizhu has his way with you, pleading of archon to pardon your transgressions of their word.

‘Oh my love.. you’ll earn your forgiveness soon my dear..’ he kisses the corner of your lips gently.

‘Just keep being a good boy for me..’

Priest!Baizhu; who fills you full with his seed, telling you that the ones above forgive you for your sins,, petting your hair and pressing you against his chest.

Priest!baizhu; who can’t wait for next Sunday to come to redo it all again..

@nanqmies © 2023

please do not translate, steal or repost my work.

reblogs and feedback appreciated!

[impishjesters]

Touch-starved Moon

CW// non-sexual touching, teasing, no actual sexual content notes: Sun and Moon are separate animatronics, not mentioned but implied that the reader is already dating the boys A/N: I don't know what to call this, a preview? Snippet? Drabble? Either way, late last night I got on the topic of touch-starved Moon with my friend, which led to me typing up bits at a time to send them. They were my magical muse because I've been having writer's block, so I just find it funny that I wrote up a bunch via Discord messages versus my usual setup...and on my phone of all things. Maybe I'll do this more to try and get out of my writer's block, definitely seems to be doing a better job than forcing myself to write shit up. But yeah, since this was written up on my phone I've gone through and fixed all my 2 am sleepy typos and grammar mistakes, obviously this isn't finished. Again why I said I don't really know how to label it. Maybe with enough interest, I could pick it up and flesh it out a bit more. But it wasn't intended to be this long, just like the first bit then a jump to the reader touching and over-stimming Moon and junk 💀

“Hm, Moonie?” Your hand drifted down his chest plate before giving the elastic of his pants a quick snap.

Moon hummed, gaze still locked on your face. “Yes, star?”

“What did I just say?”

“What?”

“Oh my, Moonpie were you distracted?”

“I was listening.” he hissed. Moon’s chest plate rumbled with annoyance but grew warm under your touch.

“Mhm, and what was I saying?”

Moon froze and sent your hand a glance, watching as your fingers walked their way down his stomach. “D-daycare..”

“Daycare? Mm, that’s a pretty broad topic.”

“Cleaning..” he cleared his throat. “Cleaning the daycare..”

“Moonie… It’s morning, the daycare is already clean.”

Shit.

“Seems like someone hasn’t fully booted up. I’ll overlook it this time, try not to get distracted with the kiddos, okay?”

Moon forced himself not to chase your hand as it left him, forcing out a grunt in agreement.

“Well,” you stretched and turned to look out into the daycare. “I’m gonna go find Sunny and ask him for his thoughts on what I said.”

He flinched. Did you ask him for his thoughts on something? For the daycare? Moon held back a whimper as you left, crimson eyes trailing the hand you used to touch him, now being used to wave Sun down. The same hand used to touch him now rested against Sun, and it made his chest ache and stomach churn.

Why did you stop touching him?

The rest of the morning was spent with the feeling of eyes on you. Every curious glance resulted in catching Moon’s gaze on you instead of the children he was supposed to be tending to. And without fail, every time he was caught he’d look away and find a way to excuse himself to a different place in the daycare.

By nap time the staring didn’t let up, even Sun had commented, questioning why Moon was so out of it and staring at you.

Moon silently stewed in his emotions, irritated at every touch between you and Sun. You’d yet to touch him again, in fact, you’d gone out of your way to avoid touching him.

During lunchtime, you’d made sure to avoid his touch while handing out the lunch trays, only to touch Sun’s by “accident”.

What made Sun so special? Was it because he’d spaced out earlier? Were you upset? Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be in Sun’s place right now.

Should he apologize? If he was going to he needed to think fast, you’d turn away from Sun and were headed straight for…him?

“Hey Moonpie.” You whispered, careful of the sleeping children, and sat beside him on the floor keeping a decent distance between the two of you. “Feeling better?”

Moon’s voice box rumbled. “Peachy.” Despite the darkness, he could see the gap between the two of you clear as day. Normally you’d sit on his lap with him during nap time while Sun took to doing a mid-day clean up.

“Is that so? I’m glad.”

The glow-in-the-dark stars of the nap room alongside Moon’s dimly lit eyes gave you just enough lighting to see the gap between you two. His leg twitched and you took to distracting yourself to look at a nearby napping child—time to see how the event from this morning would unfold.

The two of you sat in silence aside from the music box playing away in Moon’s chest. Careful to keep your eyes elsewhere, you’d occasionally catch the gap between the two of you growing smaller and smaller.

“What do you think of a sleepover tonight?”

Moon flinched, pausing mid-movement to process the question. “Sleepover? Tonight?”

“Mhm, I talked it out with Sun. Use the theater room and get pillows and blankets to cuddle up together.”

Harsh red lights lit up your face, nearly blinding you and risking waking the children. You slapped a hand over his eyes and they instantly dimmed. Well, that’s new.

You’d c-cuddle them? Of course, you’d done that before but that was…well before his current predicament. No, wait focus.

Your hand lingers on his eyes despite the light dimming, watching those tiny pinprick pupils stare at your hand. Oh right, it probably doesn’t feel great having someone’s hand on your eyes.

Before your hand can fully pull away and lose all contact Moon grabs it, shifting it to his cheek instead. It’s at that moment you feel his leg touch yours…he closed the gap you’d intentionally placed between the two of you.

Such a touchy little Moonpie.

[whateveriwant]

The Scenic Route

Modern/Non-Military AU

Summary: You, your boyfriend, and his best friend go on a road trip together. One night, when his friend's asleep in the backseat, you and your boyfriend get up to trouble in the front.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: ~1.0k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ (fingering, vaginal sex, voyeurism/exhibitionism – both include an unknowing/unconsenting party)

A/N: Hello! This scenario actually came to me in a dream lol. I'm sorry I haven't posted much as of late, but I've been trying to get over a nasty bout of writer's block recently. This drabble is the first thing I've been able to finish in months, so as always, I hope you all enjoy! :)

Just imagine it: you, your boyfriend, and his best friend are on a cross-country road trip for the summer. After miles and miles traversing winding roads and visiting quaint, historic towns, what started out as a fun adventure has become… mmm, less so. Because the days, maybe weeks, stuck together in a metal box with wheels has left you feeling a little… frustrated, if you know what I mean.

It's no one's fault, really. That's just the nature of extensive group traveling. But your poor boyfriend's friend, bless his heart, has really received the brunt of your ire.

Though it's not technically his fault you're all pent up, you can't help but feel a sort of unjust bitterness towards him. It's just that all the times you and Simon have tried to sneak away for a little 'alone' time, his friend was always hot on your trails, interrupting whatever tryst you two were trying to engage in.

So now, well over a week into your trip, Simon can tell you're about to explode. Trust him, he feels the same way as you, so at the first opportunity he sees, he takes it.

One night, when his best friend is fast asleep in the backseat of the car, Simon suddenly pulls over on a stretch of deserted highway. You think he's stopping because maybe there's something wrong with the vehicle, but then he's leaning over the center console, pressing his lips urgently to yours.

Immediately, you startle and try to push him back. "What are you—?"

"Shh," he hushes softly. "It's alright. He's asleep." He points his chin towards the snoring passenger.

And though a quick peek for yourself confirms Simon's words, that doesn't stop the concern from rising within you, especially as he undoes both your seatbelts. Even if his friend is dead asleep, he's still sitting just a few feet away in full view of everything. The proximity as well as possibility of him waking has you flooded with anxiety, and with your eyes locked on the sleeping figure, you try to protest your boyfriend, whose lips gently suck the hinge of your jaw.

"He could—"

But then Simon's big hand is down the front of your pants, swirling quick, tight circles around your neglected clit. You choke on a moan as he presses his fingertips hard against you, grabbing his collar when he dips lower, smearing them through your slick.

It feels so good yet so wrong all at the same time. But despite the guilt weighing on your conscience, ultimately, you can't help but be swept up in the moment.

Gaze still fixed on the man in the backseat, you let your boyfriend play with you however he wills. You twitch and groan, trying to keep your noises to a minimum, but it's difficult with how terribly brilliant he is at this.

He's smirking, the bastard, as he takes you apart right there on the side of the road. And when he stuffs you full with two fingers, causing your voice to suddenly pique, Simon urges with a low purr in your ear, "Shhhhhh... Don't wanna wake him, do you?"

~OR ALTERNATIVELY~

Simon, feeling like the third wheel on you and your boyfriend's road trip. Even though this trip had been planned for months and even though you two try to include him in everything, he can't shake that feeling of a deep tension directed towards him, from you in particular.

While you're not outwardly hostile to Simon, it's the little things he's picked up on. Like how multiple times he's caught you staring at him in the rearview mirror, or whenever he's accidentally brushed against you, you've reared back and caressed the spot like you'd just been burned.

And he gets it; he's not the most convivial of traveling companions. A few weeks crammed together can strain even the best of relationships, and especially so when you two weren't particularly close to begin with.

So imagine Simon's confusion when one night he's awoken by the gentle sway of the car rocking back and forth. At first, he thinks it's just the normal movements of a vehicle in drive. But then he hears something – the unmistakable sound of a woman's breathy moan – and his senses are suddenly on high alert.

With the motion of the cabin around him and the crude noises in his ears, it seems obvious what the two of you are getting up to. But they wouldn't, would they? Not when he's sitting right here.

Peeking one eye open, Simon's suspicions are confirmed as he sees you straddling your boyfriend in the driver's seat. Your arms are wound around the headrest, your face twisted up in pleasure, and Simon can just make out the naked skin of your hip as you bounce in his best friend's lap.

The sight is such a shock to the system that Simon's first instinct is to freeze, both lids flying open without thought. You two must've noticed him asleep and taken a chance to steal a quick moment together, and now he's an intruding third party who's become witness to something he was never meant to see.

Realizing what he's doing, he's about to feign sleep and pretend like nothing happened tomorrow. But before he can act, your eyes suddenly connect with his, and he finds he's hopelessly rooted to his spot.

Are you about to scream? About to cry out and call him a pervert?

So many possibilities run through Simon's mind, but what actually unfurls is even more surprising than anything he could've predicted.

Rather than being angry or shocked to see him peeping, you seem almost… amused. Aroused, if he didn't know better.

Keeping your gaze locked with Simon's, you flash a pleased, little smile, and continue eagerly fucking yourself on his best friend's cock. You toss your head back, grope your chest through your shirt, really put on a show for the man in the back all while the one in the front remains completely unaware.

And Simon, for his part, can't look away from the scene. Whether it's out of confusion or sheer curiosity, he watches on, keeping his eyes firmly glued to your figure.

Will either of you mention this come tomorrow morning? It's hard to say in the moment. But for now, as he's kept rapt by your performance, Simon's content to sit back and let this road lead him where it may.

__________

A/N: I'd love to know what you thought! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

[enkas-illusion]

The Night Is Still Young

Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Nanami x f!reader

Rating: 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Genre/Theme: One-night stand; non-sorcery au

Content warning: fluff, drinking, flirting, Nanami got rizz, suggestive, no smut.

Summary: You are exhausted from working the entire month and you need some stress relief. What's better than finding a gentleman at the club and things take a turn for good.

Author's Note: This was supposed to contain smut but I really hit writer's block. So here's a quick drabble with my husband Nanami. Thank you for reading, hope you enjoy it!

~ Nanami's Munchkin

“Shots! Shots! Shots!”

You shoot down the 6th shot of the night, the bitter liquid no longer tastes so bad anymore but the buzz keeps getting stronger.

It’s another Saturday and your plan was to stay home, sulking for the weekend but your friends had other plans.

You had just submitted your assignments and were exhausted beyond repair. Your friends were kind enough to give you an option (not really) between staying home and drinking your exhaustion away only to feel worse the next day – of course, you had to choose the latter.

“You know what would have been better than getting shitfaced tonight?” you asked your friends. Your friends roll their eyes, already knowing you are gonna bitch about being here again for the nth time but what you say next surprises them.

“If a man would fuck me so good that I see God,” you say in all seriousness.

“Damn she’s drunk drunk” your friends laugh at your confession.

You were neck deep into assignments for the past month. You didn’t leave your house except for going to the library to get shit done. So naturally, this also meant that you were frustrated mentally and sexually, needing nothing more than to melt your stress away. 

So what could be a better way than coming to the club to find someone who can help you with it? For your friends, it might mostly be the alcohol talking, but you knew the motivating factor that really convinced you to step out tonight was yet to be met.

“So you’re here to find a guy to hook up with... but all you’ve done is cry about being here. Make it make sense?” your friend Mila counters.

“It’s cause there aren’t any hot guys in here!” you cry out loud. “You need to help me find someone. Please—“

You go quiet as your eyes land on the group of guys that enter the club. Your gaze is fixated on this tall buff guy with blonde hair. He has a tired look on his face that rivals your own and he is oh so handsome.

The thing that catches your interest is his outfit. He’s wearing a black dress shirt with tan pants. His shirt hugs his muscles so tightly that it might rip open any moment. He stood out amongst the crowd of boys who wore T shirts and cargos and called it a fit. 

Your friends have already caught on to him with the way you were shamelessly checking him out. “Go talk to him,” your other friend Dia suggests.

“Oh God! He’s hot isn’t he!?” you whine. 

“Girl, you have a type. And it’s always the stoic, uninterested men.” Mila interjects.

“You forgot the hot dilf body.” Dia chimes in.

You don’t realize that you haven’t taken your eyes off him until you see him catch you staring. You revert back to your friends with a groan.

“Oh shit.”

“Why are you still here? Go talk to him.”

“Urghh… he doesn’t look like a guy who would be interested, you know? I mean look at him. He looks like he was forced to be here,” You say, sneaking looks at him.

“Oh my! You always do this. You thirst over men but never make a move. This ain’t window-shopping! Stop acting like a bitch for once,” Mila states clearly annoyed.

“Don’t you get started, Mila. Why don’t you go ask out the guy at the coffee shop. Harry, was it? You even made me ask for his name! So stop calling me a bitch.” You snapped at her.

“You know what? Let’s make a deal, go dance with that man and I’ll ask Harry out.” Mila replies, her lips twisting in half a smile.

“Deal,” you say, shaking hands with her.

“But I need a little bit more of that liquid luck.”

You head to the bar, ordering two shots of tequila and instead of drinking it, you walk up to the mystery man.

“Hey there, handsome. Care to join me for a drink?” You say almost screaming over the loud music blaring in the background. You were so fixated on him that you didn’t notice his whole group was staring at you.

“Oh he won’t drink, he's a buzzkill, you know. But I can take you up on that offer, pretty girl,” a guy with white hair butts in and you give him an annoyed look.

“Leave her alone Gojo,” the blonde says, pushing the snow haired guy away. “Don’t mind him, he’s annoying that way. Sure I’d like that drink.”

He takes the shot glass from your hand and you click it before shooting it down together.

You move closer to him to introduce yourself so as to not scream in front of others.

He holds his hand out and says, “Nanami Kento, nice to meet you.” When you go to shake his hands, he gently lifts it to leave a small peck on the back of your hand and you feel chills run through your body. 

“I didn’t know you got game, Nanamin,” the Gojo guy shouts. Nanami rolls his eyes and looks at you. 

“Do you wanna—“ you both say at once which makes you laugh. “Go ahead,” he responds.

“I was gonna ask if you want to dance with me?” you ask, suddenly shy.

He nods, holding his hand out for you and leads you to the dance floor. “Hmm… didn’t know you were such a gentleman. You don’t look like the guy who goes clubbing on the weekends,” you tease him.

“Trust me I’m not. I was forced to join them. Need to keep them out of trouble,” he says with a sly smile while his hands move around your hips and you both sway around to the music.

“So, you are the daddy of the group, huh?” you ask, which comes out more seductive than you intended and you cringe slightly.

He spins you around so that your back is touching his chest and you take this opportunity to grind back on him.

He leans closer to your ear and says, “Umhmm… is that the reason you were undressing me with your eyes ever since I entered? Need daddy to take care of you, too?” 

You turn around to face him and snake your hands around his neck. You have to stand on your tiptoes even with your heels on to reach him.

“So what if I do?” you look at him with dark eyes.

He pulls you into a messy kiss and you melt into it letting him take control. You don’t remember how long you’ve been making out in the middle of the dance floor. 

You hear your friends hoot which makes you self aware about your surroundings. You pull away from the kiss breathlessly to look at your friends and give Mila a look to which she mumbles ‘okay, okay’ with a shrug while Dia gives you a thumbs up.

You look back at Nanami who witnessed the whole interaction. “What was that about?” he asks with a quizzical look.

“Argh… nothing. Just a stupid bet between friends.”

“Is that what I am? A stupid bet?” He asks feigning hurt which makes you chuckle, “So what was the bet? Get a kiss?”

“Well I could tell you the truth that it was just to dance with you or I could just lie and say that it was to get you to sleep with me,” You reply with your hands running over his biceps suggestively.

“Hmmm… the lie sounds much more convincing to me,” he says lowly in your ears.

“So Nanami-san, you gonna help me win the bet or not?” your hands move up to play with his undercut.

“How can I resist when you ask so nicely.”

~fin~

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

First off, love your writing, IT MAKES ME FEEL THINGS😭😭 but…

Can we please get more of yandre emo boy Ashton I JUST READ IT AND IM DROOLING SCREAMING CRYING GIGGLING AMD KICKING MY FEET😭🧎‍♀️🤪🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

THANK YOU❤️❤️🤭🤭🤭

(If not that’s okay, ignore this bae🫶)

Yandere! Stereotypical! Emo and his beloved popular bitch

Ayo, thank you for the compliment! I'm glad my writings made you feel things (I don't know what though LMAO)

Actually, I'm not planning to follow up Ashton, but hey, at least it would break my writer's block (lol it's just laziness) so here ya go!

Sorry that it took days though 😔

FOR THIS ONE, I RECOMMEND READING THE FIC FIRST BEFORE THE DRABBLE (this one).

Read the yandere emo fic here!

💌Little Ashton was misunderstood a lot as a child. He never really liked the same things the other children liked, and he had this morbid curiosity with death and occult.

💌Of course, this undoubtedly scared his family, making him out to be some sort of psychopath.

💌This irked Ashton of course. He's just... That. He still loves his parents, and nothing would change that.

💌But the fact that they're so conservative that it's actually bringing Ashton down is what drove him over the edge to find a school far, far away from his family.

💌A small, quaint town, yet filled with teenagers. It was kind of a nightmare when Ashton found out, but he gritted his teeth and thought that maybe, with the current years, maybe they won't judge him. Maybe.

💌So, he indulged more in his Emo lifestyle. He religiously listened to green day, Panic! At the Disco, My Chemical Romance...

💌He even got into writing poems as a way to put out his feelings that he never got to tell other people.

💌 He's actually very sensitive with emotions and feelings. So technically, he should be a great friend candidate, right?

💌But once he got into the school year, that's when he knew, that his life would be living hell. Stereotypes left and right. Mean cheerleaders and jocks that ostracized his choice of clothing, snobby rich students that turn their noses on him just because he's not that rich, geeks and nerds that keeps getting in his way, thinking he's one of them.

💌"Fuck. Get me out of here. Nobody understands me."

💌He didn't realize himself, but he's also slowly being a stereotype. Always alone, writing poems, and being unnecessarily nihilistic.

💌Until of course, one day, you transfered. You, your pink rover, and your slutty little outfit.

💌God, just looking at you and your charming personality made Ashton hard fall for you.

💌He wants you. So bad.

💌So he dabbled back into the occults. He found an old book in an abandoned "witch's hut" that he went on a mad hunt for weeks. Apparently, the witch that lived there was a matchmaker witch, who gave love potions to those really desperate.

💌At first, Ashton didn't believe it. Especially that it involves sampaguita, a flower not native to his town. How did the witch even get the flowers?

💌But there he was, mixing and creating the potion under the moonlight and putting your hair and his in the pot. Creating a love potion that smelled like the sampaguitas he had to smuggle in.

💌He wrote you letters everyday, obsessing and hyper fixating on your allure and beauty. Confessing over and over again on paper that looks old and aged with writing that looks like it came from a fountain pen. With a spritz of the love potion, he would put it in your locker.

💌God, who knew that it would work?

💌Day by day, he watched you read the letters. At first, you were disgusted (much to his dismay) but slowly, you started to read the letters with a neutral face, then a smile, then with a squeal and then a desperate plea for him to come and fuck you already.

💌Maybe putting his... Semen on your love potion got you desperate for him carnally, rather than romantically.

💌But no fretting, he would just make you fall for him.

💌And as you moan and scream out his name as he pounds into your tight hole like the feral, fuck machine he is,

💌He was pleading to the moon to see his bleeding heart and bare soul to make you his.

💌And if the moon won't allow it,

💌Well, it's nothing more love potions won't do.

💌"my beloved, why don't you drink this sweet tea I made? Why is it pink and smells floral? It's a new tea from Japan. Sakura, from what I know. It's glowing? Nonsense, love. It's probably just the lighting."

💌"Now drink up, don't let a drop go to waste."

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

April Drabbles - 24/31

Prompt: Clouds

Featuring: Gojo X Fem!Reader X Geto (implied poly)

You lay on the grass with Geto and Gojo, enjoying the light breeze. It was a surprisingly calm day, the three of you staring up at the sky, watching the clouds go by.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if we could just stay like this forever?” you sigh out loud. 

Geto snuggles closer into your side in response and Gojo lazily opens a piercing blue eye, looking up at you, his head comfortably nestled on your belly. 

You gently stroke Gojo’s hair and put an arm around Geto, feeling the need to be closer to both of them. They were your world. 

April 2024 Drabbles Masterlist

divider by @/ saradika prompts by @/ creativepromptsforwriting

[jaskiercommabard]

Hi can I request “Let me do this, please.” for geraskier please and thanks 💛

I'm sorry this took so long! I am a slow writer on a good day, and I was planning on doing like a 300 word drabble but Geralt said NO. 2500 words or I feed you to Roach

Read on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Geralt, help me, please,” Jaskier screams. 

Not Jaskier.

It is not Jaskier, but that doesn’t keep the blood from rushing in Geralt’s ears as he hunts the thing that has his voice. 

Jaskier is safe, back at the inn - probably sleeping by now, or else terrorizing the pretty barmaid Geralt had left him flirting with. He’s safe, far away from this barren, gore-filled clearing, unless-

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have followed you.”

The voice is thick with tears, wobbling pitifully. The cries continue, ricocheting mercilessly through the forest. 

“I’m afraid.”

“Don’t leave me.”

“Geralt, Geralt. I’m here.”

He is not here. The only trace of Jaskier comes from the strip of thick linen blocking Geralt’s vision, the barest memory of lemongrass and cinnamon hitting the air when he tugs the fabric more securely over his eyes. Beneath it, only rot. 

Geralt turns in a slow circle, blade raised and ready to strike. He’s spent all day tracking the location of a nightwraith that has been calling young men to their deaths in the forest, and now the moon is high. Geralt is not a young man, so he is relieved to find - in a stroke of his peculiar sort of luck - that the nightwraith isn’t overly particular about which hearts it rips out and leaves at the edge of town. 

“There you are,” it coos, the tone familiar and melodic. “I tried so hard to find you.”

It’s a perfect mockery of relief and exhaustion, the same sigh that greets him after a long day riding or a long night performing, and it’s close. Its feet fall just like Jaskier’s, a little heavier on his right side where his hip is starting to give him trouble - Geralt can almost see the unevenly worn soles of his boots crunching toward him through the blanket of leaves on the ground.

It's late enough in autumn that Jaskier would be grousing about the cold, and as soon as the thought crosses his mind, the creature's teeth begin to chatter.

“There’s something out here. I’m frightened. Why won’t you help me?”

Closer, now. Close enough for Geralt to lunge at it, and the gasp that falls into the quiet air when his sword finds the creature’s flesh belongs to Jaskier, too. 

The strike falls short of a killing blow, thrust out blindly as it is, and does little more than confuse and enrage it. Soon the voices are overlapping, shrieking above him, losing their soft edge. Vicious wind tears around him and he’s caught in a squall of Jaskier weeping, Jaskier laughing, Jaskier howling in pain. It is behind him and before him, above him and around him, oppressive, inescapable. He has no choice but to rip the fabric from his eyes and-

And there is Jaskier, where Geralt knew he would be, kneeling in the dirt with trembling hands pressed into his side. A gruesome stain slips out from beneath his fingers, so similar to the red of his doublet that it only makes the fabric darker, and a matching ribbon of it falls from his mouth. 

It’s a nightmare Geralt has woken from a thousand times, Jaskier all blue and pink and red, too red at the end of his own sword.

"Why?" the thing mouths, but it's lost, crackling out somewhere in the air instead of falling from his lips. The creature wields his voice like a weapon as it loses control, twisting that sweet tenor into something that stings his ears. 

The taste of blood coats Geralt’s mouth and fills his nose, real and hot and nauseating. It's a strong illusion, built from grief and malice, and it has to end, now, before he cracks beneath the weight of it. He has no choice but to sprint past Jaskier to reach the corpse on the other side of the clearing, but even his enhanced speed is no match for a wraith this powerful. Fingers colder than ice wrap around his ankle and he is flung like a doll to the ground, knees singing with pain as they crash into the earth.

“Let me do this,” he shouts over the roaring wind, twisting back to face the wraith. He’s foolish for it, maybe, but it’s easier to argue with a monster when it wears a face he squabbles with a hundred times before breakfast most days. “Please. Let me help you!” 

For a moment, the frigid hand on him only tightens. It’s enough to make his bones creak, but then Jaskier’s face softens, rippling out from the center. That familiar mop of messy hair turns golden, tumbling easily over a set of round, narrow shoulders. Finally, blue eyes turn maple brown - upturned and mournful, a perfect match to the farmer who had begged Geralt to find his missing daughter. 

They had looked just like hers, watery and wide, when the man chased him down outside the alderman's hut. Find my girl, he had pleaded, pressing a stack of old coins into Geralt’s palm. Bring her home, however you can.

The flickery image of the girl nods once, just the barest dip of her chin as she releases his ankle. It’s enough for Geralt to lurch away, extending his hand to cast Igni over the too-small body decaying in the dry grass beside them. For a moment, above the rot and char and heat, the air is washed out with a breeze of sweet hay and lilies, and then she is gone. 

What’s left behind is a maelstrom of untamed rage and malice, once more with Jaskier’s face, flickering now as the illusion struggles to hold itself together. Something sick and sharp blooms in Geralt’s throat, but he raises his sword anyway. He wavers, and the wraith smiles with his friend’s mouth. It’s all wrong - all sharp, dripping teeth jutting out from endless black, and that is just enough to snap Geralt back to focus. 

The wraith shrieks, the witcher springs. It still has Jaskier’s tears and Jaskier’s hands and Jaskier’s sweet, wide eyes when it dies on Geralt’s sword.

**

The pleasant hum coming from the warmly lit hall of the Merry Magpie rises when Geralt stalks in the front door, its patrons ruffling like rattled hens at the sight of him. He forgoes the bar entirely - he’ll collect his coin from the alderman and deliver it along with a box of ashes to the farmer in the morning. Tonight, he’ll tend to the cold spike of grief and guilt settled in his own chest.

He can’t shake his unease as he climbs the stairs to the shadowy upper floor of the inn - it rolls around in his gut, sends his shoulders bunched halfway to his ears. It’s irrational, he knows, but the feeling only winds itself more tightly around his spine when he shoves open the door to their shared room and finds it empty. 

Geralt swallows around the sharp thing creeping higher into his throat. The bard isn’t far, not with his lute and songsheets strewn about the bed. He’s just as likely to be in a room around the corner with that freckled barmaid, or out behind the inn with the stableman he’d been making eyes at all day, or-

“In here, Geralt!”

In his panic, he’d missed the thick humidity of the room and the scent of Jaskier’s soap, missed the familiar tick of his heart beating quarter-time against Geralt’s own. 

“That is you, Geralt?” he continues, calling from behind the dressing screen in the corner of the room. “You’d better be Geralt, or you’ll have some explaining to do to my outrageously large and occasionally violent very best friend in the whole wide world-”

His voice swings up an octave when he turns to find the witcher only a few paces from him.

“Merciful gods, witcher, you really have to stop doing that. It’s…unnerving. I am unnerved. Has anyone ever told you you’re unnerving?”

Jaskier has. Frequently, but Geralt is so caught up in staring at his throat working, whole and unhurt, that he doesn’t answer. 

“Fuck. Are you alright?” Jaskier asks as he rounds the steaming basin in the center of the room to close the space between them. His tone is tempered now, low and even, the way it is when he soothes Roach while Geralt picks pebbles out of her shoes. Geralt wets his lips but only nods, and careful hands rise up to pet him over anyway. 

There’s a peculiar crease in his brow, a dimple beside his frowning mouth that, surely, no creature could ever mimic. It only deepens as he works away the armor to uncover Geralt piece by piece, unable to find any visible injury. The help only slows him down, really, but Jaskier is warm and real and his waist fits neatly into Geralt’s palm where his hand has drifted, so he lets himself be fussed over. 

The bard is chirping away as he always is when the thorns start to prick at Geralt’s stomach again.

“Jaskier,” he tries to command, but it comes out strangled, “I need you to stop talking.” 

The bard squawks indignantly, swatting at his shoulder where he’s masterfully knocking loose a pauldron that needs its latch replaced.

“You are so rude, do you know? You’re terrible to me.” 

“Jask. Stop.” 

Either Jaskier hears the plea he’s trying to swallow, or Geralt is bleeding out on the forest floor and hallucinating, because he snaps his mouth shut obediently and steps back. That’s wrong, that’s worse, so Geralt tightens the hand on his waist to draw him back into the circle of his arms. 

He presses his face into the space beneath Jaskier’s jaw, because he wants to, and because he can’t help himself. His other hand drifts into the gently curling hair at the nape of Jaskier’s neck, damp with sweat and steam from the bath slowly cooling beside them. He startles slightly at the touch, but Geralt only noses in further. 

After what has been only a moment for Geralt but certainly a small eternity for the bard, he speaks softly into the top of Geralt’s head.

“Just tell me what’s wrong, dear. Please.” 

“It had your voice,” he whispers. Jaskier scoffs indignantly, but it’s missing some of his usual bluster. 

“I can assure you, nothing and no one on this Continent has my-” 

He cuts himself off, tensing in Geralt’s hold as the words hang above them.

Luring our men into the forest, the innkeeper's wife had said. They all heard it - their wives, lovers, calling to them in the night. It drove them mad, ripped their hearts out.

“It had my voice.”

He understands, and the meaning is cutting through the air like an arrow let loose too soon, flying outside Geralt's control.

“And you had to…?” Jaskier grimaces, all blunt teeth, and leans back to drag a thumb across his throat. Geralt nods tightly, follows the motion with his eyes and then with the tips of his own fingers. That familiar sparrow-heart pulse jumps up to meet his touch in the same soft and perfect spot where Geralt had plunged his sword. 

“Oh, love,” he breathes, and it twists in Geralt's stomach like a fist. He slides his eyes away to track a bead of sweat falling from Jaskier's temple, and he can smell it - lemongrass and cinnamon, salt-sweet skin. No copper, no decay. 

Though his blood moves too slowly for it to show, Geralt feels the flush high in his cheeks anyway, where it might blossom on a human's face - where it does begin to blossom on Jaskier's. It pricks strangely beneath his eyes, makes his tongue slow and clumsy. 

“Did you know?”

A startled noise bubbles out of Jaskier as he meets Geralt’s gaze, but his eyes are fond and soft, wide with something that looks like wonder. Geralt leans into the tender brush of knuckles across his cheek, forgetting for a moment why he ever stopped himself before.

“That you love me?” He laughs, high and soft and musical. It's unbearable. “I suspected. Did you?”

The answer sits on his tongue like the last bite of an apple tart, lives in his throat like a shared skin of good wine, scratches at his chest like an ancient shirt stitched together by a musician's cautious hands.

“I must have. I-” he shakes his head as if the right words might tumble out of him. Jaskier only sighs, an easy smile stuck on his face as he raises his palm to Geralt's cheek. It's the same look he has when they meet each other on the road after a season apart. 

He can’t reconcile the smile and the screaming, the image of the wraith still exploding like a bomb behind his eyelids.

"I'm sorry," he says, nonsensically. His thumb is back at the hollow of Jaskier's throat.

"For what?"

"I hurt you." 

I cut you down as you begged me not to. As you cried out for me to help you. What does that make me?

"Show me," he whispers, just loud enough to hear over the peculiar tangle of their heartbeats. There is an unfamiliar look on his face, something curious and patient, something that makes him sweat even as the room is cooling. 

Geralt swallows hard, presses his thumb into the top of Jaskier's throat, dragging it down until it meets the loosely gathered laces of his chemise. Jaskier's hands fly up to untie them, slowly exposing each precious inch of skin that had been rent and torn by the blade. Instead of steel, Geralt pulls gooseflesh along in his wake. It blooms along with the sweetly creeping flush that spreads across Jaskier's collarbones - blood brought to surface by his hand, again, so different this time.

Geralt continues his path over Jaskier's breastbone, across the dip between his ribs, until he reaches the spot above Jaskier's navel where his sword had struck its final blow. He follows the path again with the flat of his hand, up over a rabbiting heart until his palm rests in its place against Jaskier's neck. His breaths have gone thin and quick, the way they did when he was dying. 

He's not dying, now - no, Jaskier is very much alive when he closes the meager space between them. He's alive when he tips their foreheads together, and Geralt wonders how he could ever have been fooled, seeing this face without the crinkles near his eyes and the easy flush in his cheeks. He’s so alive when their lips brush and it’s all sweet and hot, no ash left in the breath they share.

Geralt knows what Jaskier sounds like with steel in his throat, now, what he sounds like drowning in his own blood. He’ll never unlearn it. It's only fair, he decides, that he should know what Jaskier sounds like when his lips find that same place, when his tongue follows.

[thrawns-babygirl]

Hello there lovely, is there any chance that you could write something - anything really idc if it's a drabble, hc or oneshot- involving tatted Crosshair and his send nudes tattoo?

No pressure of course. love your stuff and keep it up^^

have a nice day <3

This was only meant to be a drabble but I got carried away.

And yes I know this fic starts off almost identically to one of my other fics (I think it was one of the follower celebration ones) but for this specific fic I needed to reuse an old trope dont @ me please I've had writers block （；¬＿¬)

This is also another one of my classic medic!reader fics because I wanted it to be gender neutral and doc is the easiest gender neutral nickname I can come up with.

I am not a creative person lmao.

anywho, this is based off of @cloned-eyes absolutely sinful art, which is honestly some of my favorite Crosshair art of all time.

Rating: E (18+) Warnings: Sexting (I think that's it lmao) Words: 2200+

Been a while since ive written anything this long so i hope my writing is still up to snuff

Masterlist

Where could he be? Where on this maker forsaken facility could he possibly be? You storm through the halls of Kamino looking for Wrecker, the errant clone needing to come and see you for updates to his immunisations before he or the rest of clone force 99 are allowed back out into the field.

It’s not surprising that he’s avoiding you, out of all of them, Wrecker is by far the worst with needles. The man can’t stand them, avoids you like the plague when he knows that it’s time to keep his vaccinations up to date and for what its worth you can’t really blame him. No one enjoys needles.

You huff and place your hands on your hips as you think about where the lovable giant could possibly be. You’ve already checked the mess, the armoury, the Marauder and the training centres with zero sign of him. When you got to the marauder Tech just gave you that look that says, “I understand you need to find him but I’m not going to rat him out” and while you often applaud clones for their loyalty to one another, when it stops you from doing your job it makes you want to rip your own hair out in frustration.

You make your way over towards their barracks, hoping and praying to whatever deities that will listen that you’ll find him and be able to get on with the rest of your job. You take a deep breath, standing out the front of their doors, before keying in your medical override and stepping inside.

You don’t find wrecker, and you wish you had knocked.

Standing in front of you is Crosshair, in just a towel, dark lines of ink on full display over his tanned body. You’ve never actually seen him without his shirt on before, never needed to. The sniper usually manages to stay out of trouble and doesn’t need any assistance when the boys return to Kamino so you had no idea he was covered in tattoos.  

You run your eyes over his chest, taking in all the impressive art that litters his toned form. The silhouette of his beloved 773 Firepuncher that stretches along his chest, the artfully done letters of aurebesh that stretch above his stomach, the other smaller words and phrases that extend down his hips, tantalizingly low, slightly obscured by the fabric of the towel that’s gripped in his left hand.

You run your eyes up his arm towards his face, knowing that he’s going to be wearing that sickeningly infuriating smirk of his and wanting to avoid the cliché “Like what you see?” you know he’s going to drawl at you like you’re in some terrible holodrama.

As you brace yourself to face him, your eyes catch on a single phrase tattooed on his left arm, slightly more patchy and faded than his other ink as if it were the result of a drunken night out in some shady tattoo parlour in the Uscru District of Coruscant. Two simple words that have a profound effect on your physiology causing even more heat to rush to your face, deepening the blush that you know is already far too pronounced on your cheeks and ears.

“Send Nudes”

You finally have the courage to snap your eyes up to his and just as you expected you’re greeted by his frustratingly handsome smirk, his eyes boring into yours, as if he’s waiting for you to say something, as if this is going to be the final nail in the coffin for your poorly hidden mutual attraction to one another that’s been simmering the last few cycles that’s threatening to reach boiling point as you maintain eye contact.

You lamely open and close your mouth trying to find something to say to the barely covered man in front of you before he decides to end your suffering, breaking the silence with the just as cliché “See something you like doc?” he raises an eyebrow at you before walking over towards his bunk, reaching into a pouch on his discarded armour and producing a toothpick, slipping it between his lips as he looks you up and down.

“I um-” you finally look away from him, suddenly finding the old training posters above his bed intensely interesting trying to figure out what to say to him as if you weren’t just ogling his naked chest and arms for an unprofessionally long amount of time.

You clear your throat “I was just looking for Wrecker… he needs his shots” your eyes dart around the room, avoiding his smug, self-satisfied face for as long as humanly possible.

You cringe at how your voice falters, yours and Crosshair’s interactions are always a battle of wits and snark, constantly trying to one up each other as the rest of the batch endeavour to ignore your vague attempts at flirting with one another. Both of you trying your best to goad the other into making the first move, dancing around the invisible line you’ve both drawn in the sand but never crossed.

From the corner of your eye, you see him walk towards you, you see his arm adjusting the towel around his hips and your eyes are drawn to that stupid tattoo on his arm again, the one that makes you want to throw professionalism out the window and jump his bones regardless of any regulations or rules that would get in the way and muddy the waters.

“Wrecker’s not here” his voice has dropped an octave, as if getting you alone in his room has made him realise that there is nothing physical stopping the two of you from muddying the waters of your relationship and taking that final step. You swallow the saliva that’s started pooling in your mouth, attempting to remind yourself that you’re on duty, you’re in the barracks, any one of the rest of his squad could walk through those doors at any moment an interrupt whatever lewd and improper things you both want to do to one another.

While you were wrestling with your own thoughts and feelings you miss how close he’s managed to get to you, his silent footsteps bringing him directly in front of you and you stare up at him. Has he always been this tall? You lock eyes with him, neither of you saying anything as you just stare at one another, each of you silently willing the other to close the distance between the two of you and take the leap.

He begins moving his face closer to yours, his warm breath brushing over your face, it smells minty you vaguely register as you move your face closer to his, closing your eyes and the distance between the two of you when suddenly you hear loud, boisterous laughter approaching from the other side of the door.

You curse under your breath. Despite this being the whole reason you’re in the barracks to begin with, you would give anything for a few more moments alone with Crosshair. Both of you pull away from one another, Crosshair grabbing a spare change of blacks and walking back into the refresher before the door to the barracks opens and you see the wayward clone himself stare at you with wide eyes. He knows he’s got nowhere to run now as you fix him with a glare that one would assume is because of the amount of time and effort you put into finding him and not because of the fact he just interrupted… whatever was about to happen between you and Crosshair.

You walk out of the barracks with Wrecker in tow, attempting to push whatever it was that was happening with Crosshair to the back of your mind, at least for now.

After another few hours on duty, you finally return to your quarters, sore exhausted and replaying the interaction you had with Crosshair over and over again in your mind. No matter how you try to distract yourself, whenever you close your eyes, you see the dark lines of ink that cover his sculpted body. Does he have more tattoos? Do the go lower? You mind is reeling, and you can’t focus on anything else, you can’t even sleep all you can think about is stupid Crosshair with his stupid tattoos and that stupid send nudes tattoo he has on his stupid arm.

You sigh, picking up your datapad in a vague attempt at tricking your brain into doing something productive when you get an idea. Arguably a terrible and stupid idea that could have a negative affect on your career but… an idea, nonetheless. Sighing and shaking your head you throw your datapad down onto your bed as you stand up to take a shower.

No… this is a terrible idea.

You undress and stare at yourself in the mirror. Maybe… its not a terrible idea? Your mind keeps going back to his tattoos and you decide to throw caution to the wind. Walking back into your bedroom you snatch up your datapad and open an encoded chat with Crosshair’s personal frequency double and triple checking the recipient to make sure what you’re about to do doesn’t end up in the wrong hands before steeling your nerves and standing in front of the mirror. The lighting isn’t the most flattering but you don’t let yourself dwell on that for too long before you strike what you hope is an appealing pose and taking a series of pictures, attempting to highlight your assets.

You flick through the pictures selecting the ones you think are the most flattering and before you have a chance to second guess yourself you send them through to Crosshair with the caption “As instructed”.

You wait for a moment, encrypted chats don’t have notifications for when the recipient has seen the messages so you wait with baited breath for a response. When one doesn’t come immediately you throw your datapad down onto your bed and run your hand through your hair, deciding that maybe he’s just not looking at his datapad right now you finally take your shower, attempting to wash away your nerves and embarrassment, pushing your fear of rejection out of your head as you let the warm spray wash over you.

When you exit the shower and towel yourself off you look at your datapad and see a reply from Crosshair. Your breath catches in your throat as you move to open the message and see that it comes with an attachment.

Holding your breath, you open the attachment only to be greeted by a picture of Crosshair, standing in the refresher in his barracks, wearing only a pair of loose fitting black pants that are pulled down to his thighs revealing what can only be described as the nicest cock you have ever seen. You’ve never thought that cocks were attractive before, but somehow he’s managed to change your mind. It’s long and thick and the way his slender fingers wrap around his girth makes your mouth water.

After spending far too much time searing the sight of it into your memory you read the text that he sent along with the photo just one simple word; “More”.

You dive into bed, datapad in one hand, legs spread however before you get a chance to take and pictures you receive another message from Crosshair, this time there is no text, only a video. You open it and press play.

You watch in pure delight as the recording of Crosshair’s hand moves over his hard, weeping length, his fingers tightening as he gets to the tip creating more pressure around the head. Small sighs and choked breaths can be heard from the audio as his hand works his cock and just as the video ends you swear you hear a whisper of your name.

You scramble to return the favour, attempting to capture the best possible angle as you manoeuvre one hand down between your legs to begin working yourself over. You have the luxury of not needing to share your living space with anyone, so you put on a bit of a show, moaning and whimpering and gasping his name as you touch yourself and push yourself over the edge with a final long moan of his name. Your chest rising and falling as you hit send before you can change your mind or second guess yourself.

Not long after that you receive the final video of the night, your mouth waters and you can feel heat rushing down south again as you watch Crosshair vigorously stroking his cock, muffled gasps and groans coming from his end as he works himself, the head of his cock is so red it’s almost purple and you can see beads of precum leaking out of the tip and running onto his hands as he brings himself closer and closer to the edge. You watch as he bites his lip, face contorting in pleasure as the lines of ink on his skin move with the rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to stay quiet.

He screws his eyes shut and bites his lip so hard you think you see him break the skin, as he stifles a moan of your name, spilling ropes of cum over himself, his hand and his chest, panting before the video ends.

You get one other message from him on the encrypted channel.

>Might need to see you in medbay tomorrow for a busted lip

@where-is-my-mind-tho@antishadow2021 @healingskywalker @crosshairlovebot@ilovestarwarsmen725@vincentferard

[anzynai]

request: ler!angel dust x reader (platonic, gender neutral or masc) where the reader is new at the hotel and angel accidentally figures out theyre ticklish and decides this is a fun new way to make friends? its been floating in my brain for AGES but im having such writers block SJDLKFJ so im handing it off to you bc i love your hazbin fics!!!

hiii so requests are closed, but i already had an idea tbh.. so ill indulge u a little drabble. but please, do not send any more requests unrelated to twst lol and um this ask was from a couple weeks ago…. eerrr yeah.

——

you stood awkwardly in the corner of the room, fiddling your fingers. what were you doing here, really? you looked at nifty, cleaning every nook and cranny of the hotel with extreme haste. your eyes moved to charlie and vaggie who seemed to be brainstorming over new trust exercises to introduce to the hotel. husk was at his bar, cleaning the glasses in a much slower pace compared to the nimble cleaning demon. alastor and angel dust were nowhere to be seen.

and so, you just.. kinda stood there. you had only been at the hotel for a day, and even before you arrived, every part of your mind was screaming at you that this was a stupid idea and that you needed to turn back now. but since you were new, you didn’t really felt like you belonged. you parted your lips, letting a small sigh out.

“what are ya looking so down in the dumps for, toots?” the angel's voice cut your thoughts as he jabber a finger to your side. you gasped, leaning away from the touch.

“oh.. um, no reason. you don’t have to worry.” you stammered out a response, but the look of doubt that crosses angel’s face tells you that he didn’t believe a word of what you just said. still, it seemed like he didn’t ponder it for long because his eyes widened, as if he had just realized something.

“hey…” he started, walking closer so that he was almost towering over you. “ya ticklish?”

oh no. no WAY.

“no! i’m not!” please don’t try, you thought, even though.. a small part of you wanted him to. but..

“sure about that?” a smirk had finally entered angel’s face as he latched his hands to your sides and it was already to resist smiling from the antipation.

“yes, very sure!” you sputtered, backing up and almost tripping. he caught you, obviously, because he already had his hands on you. however, to keep you from falling, he had to tighten his grip. by squeezing your sides.

you were mortified when a giggle slipped out before you could stop it. the way angel’s face lit up would haunt your nightmares for weeks. and then, he launched his attack.

he began squeezing at your sides, watching you squirm and buck your hips.

“hkk!” you smiled, crookedly, trying your best not to laugh, but it was already so hard.

“no need to resist, baby, i already know you’re ticklish.” when he found a particularly sensitive spot, you could already feel your defenses crumbling. when he lingered on that spot, you were positively sure you were dying.

“noho! stahahap!” you giggled at last, a snort escaping you with how much effort you had tried to not laugh.

“got ya~!” angel teased, slurring his words and he continued to tickle you. you were vaguely aware of how silent the room had gone, the others turning to watch you and you felt your face heating up with embarrassment.

“ahahangehehel!” you giggled, pushing at his hands.

“that’s my name!” angel smiled and across the room, charlie gasped.

“tickling!” she shouted, standing up with stars in her eyes. “that’ll be our next trust exercise!”

angel stopped tickling you at that, and you sighed in relief and caught your breath. you rubbed against the spots he tickled when the tingling sensation still lingered.

“tickling?” angel asked, a brow raised.

“yes! what else is safe and comforting and still allows for bonds to grow like tickling?” charlie exclaims, enthusiastic as she began jotting down ideas on lying pieces of paper. beside her, vaggie looked nervous.

so did angel, actually, you realized when you glanced at him. a small blush was on his face but you only realized because you were looking closely. with an idea in your head, you smiled sweetly.

“i think it’s a great idea! should angel go first?”

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Hey been a little bit since I popped on here! Got any upcoming works? Last time I was on your page a Drabble about an Mc in the monster au was posted, so anything new? Have a good Wednesday! ✌🏽

Hey there! Good to have you back!

Not sure which drabble you're referring to since I have a couple like that, but it's nice to have you visiting again!

One of the works I've been working on involves a fem!Yuu who's pregnant in Twisted Monsterland (monster!AU), and it's something I'd been chipping away at for a while now (mainly due to character stubbornness and writer's block). If I had to say though, I'm about...70-75% done with it. This thing is a literal *beast* of a fic I'm writing, so I'm thinking it's going to be longer than the Toothfairy mini!Yuu fic. @A@

I've also been chipping away on the side a rewrite/expanded "prologue" on how Yuu/mini!Yuu arrives in the Monster!AU, the next installment of the Kaiju!AU, and a skit involving Yuu trying to make a saddle for Kaiju!Grim. It goes about as well as you'd expect, but hey, I'm having fun with it! 😆

Sorry to keep everyone waiting with the fics, but they're in the works, and I'll do my best to make sure they're worth the wait! Have a good Wednesday (or Thursday if you're a day ahead), everyone!

[writing-blocked-me]

Daffodil

Daffodil - Unrequited love

Number 3 of my flowers drabble/one-shot series

Requests still open for the flowers series! So feel free to shoot me an ask!I

Masterlist - Flowers Masterlist

Pairing: Fyodor x reader

CW: Manipulation, unrequited love, toxic relationship, sadness, angst, Fyodor and his prophet complex, dependency, toxic dependency, I'm not sure what else to write here, Fyodor being OOC, bad writing lmao

A/N: Hiii, back after another few weeks with a thrid addition to my flowers series (requests still open). Uni has been rough these past few weeks, plus writer's block hit me hard, so sorry for the inconsistent uploads. I am trying to get a writing schedule together, so hopefully I'll have , more regular posting soon and I'm gonna try to put out at least on post (even if it's just a drabble) once every week if I can. This time I tried a Fyodor x reader, but I'm still trying to get the feel of his character, so I'm not sure it's quite there yet...

enjoy :)

You had always loved him, ever since the day that he came into your life.  It was as if you had been in love with him your whole life, as if he had always been there, an ever-present being, a constant voice in your mind.  Fyodor Dostoyevsky was like a parasite, eating away at all your thoughts until he was the only thing left in your mind.  Not that you minded; you'd happily only think of him.

He had swept you off your feet, initially.  He'd charmed you with sweet gifts and what he called ‘proper courting’.  It made you feel special, worth something. He had always been special, with his grand plans and his strong faith.  When you were with him, it was as if you were important too.  He was God's servant on earth.  He was so exceptional, brilliant and gifted, cunning and smart, always a step ahead of seemingly everyone.  Being with him made you feel special too, by extension.  Belonging to him meant being a part of something extraordinary.  You liked feeling extraordinary.

You liked being his.  Being with Fyodor was unlike any other relationship you had ever had.  He was attentive at first, sweet and cautious, as if he thought you would run away.  After some time of reassuring him, making certain he knew you were his forever, he had started to let you in more.  He told you about his vision, his plans, God's plan, about ridding the world of sin.  He educated you, taught you what the world should be like, what his world looked like, his perfect picture of what could be.  You liked feeling included, feeling part of that perfect picture.  You liked listening to him, to his dreams.  You liked everything about him.  You loved him.

You still loved him now.  Nothing had changed, not even when his controlling nature had made itself more… apparent.  Not even when he started keeping you locked up, forcing you to suit his needs, to fit into his schedule, leaving you alone for hours, until he felt like speaking with you.  You still loved him.  The affection you had never wavering, never straying from him, despite all the signs, all the red flags begging you to see them.  But aren't all flags red when you're wearing rose-tinted glasses? That's what you told yourself, the justification you gave, because you loved him.  It was all a part of his plan, his vision, it was something special.  You were something special.  Under his gaze, you were something. Without him, you were barely there, a shadow of a person.  

Fyodor preferred you like this.  Dependent on him and desperate to be with him.  It was convenient to have such a willing partner, someone who would bend and break to be what he wanted.  Someone he could control.  Someone who loved him.  Someone who would believe every pretty little lie that fell from his mouth, every “I love you”, every “That's what makes you so special”, every single flowery piece of praise.  So very convenient.   He didn't have to love you, nor did he want to.  He did not love anyone.  He had to be loved, though, had to be adored in the way he saw fit.  He needed to be desired by someone who could slot into his perfect little world.  

It could have been anyone.  It just happened to be you. There was no special person, despite the way Fyodor made you feel.  He whispered words of praise, of being special, of being needed, and you clung to him, desperate to hear it again and again.  He made you desperate for his words, desperate for him.  He kept you that way.  Fyodor was good at that, manipulating others to get what he needed from them, using them as pawns in his game of chess, discarding them after they were no longer of use.  You were no different.  He entranced you with kind affections and over the top appreciation, drawing you in, feeding you bit by bit.  

After drawing you in, he gave praise sparingly, just enough to trap you.  It made you hungry for it, as if you would starve without his attention.  You would die without it.  It felt as though the two of you were attached by an invisible string, or more like an invisible leash, keeping you bound to him.  Still, your devotion never changed, never strayed from him.  

Even now, as the Russian rat ignored you entirely, carrying on with his work, you could not change your heart.  It would forever belong to him.  Despite being strung along, controlled, manipulated, and subjected to all manner of other things, your love for Fyodor did not change.

Fyodor Dostoyevsky was a parasite. He had corrupted you, taken over your mind, body and soul.  He was a disease that left you helpless.  He was your maker and your undoing.  He was the reason you were alone most of the time.  And yet, you could never bring yourself to be any less infatuated with the man.  Never would you ever imagine leaving him.  It was impossible.  It was a thought that simply did not exist.  You could not leave the man you loved, though it was so painfully obvious he did not feel for you the same as you felt for him.  Leaving was not an option.  There was no escape.  There was nowhere to run.

“Content” could be the word to describe it.  You were content.  The love you felt was all you needed. He need not love you back.  You were content for it to be a one-sided affection.  As long as you were there at all, you could be happy.  Fyodor Dostoyevsky was special, a man who was going to change the world, remake it anew.  He was God's servant on earth.  He was the love of your life.  As long as he permitted you to, you would happily remain at his side, answering his beck and call, adoring him in a way that would never be requited.