#vessel x gender neutral reader

[writethrough]

How about a comfort fic with Vessel/reader? Your choice on if Vessel comforts the reader or the reader comforts Vessel!

Just Like Rain

(Vessel x Gender Neutral Reader)

Synopsis: Your anxieties overtake you, and Vessel is there to guide you through them.

Warnings: Self-deprecation, thoughts of unworthiness and self-hatred, language, unintentionally cathartic for me

Word Count: 1557

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting this, anon! I'm so excited for you to read my first Vessel fic!

A little housekeeping for those who have read through my Request Guidelines, and may be confused about me writing for a real person when it says I don't. That is still the case, but Vessel is a character when it comes down to it. So, I feel comfortable writing for him, especially in the way I've written him here.

Also—and I hope this goes without saying—I will not entertain theories and rumors about any of Sleep Token's identities.

Enjoy the music for what it is, as the band intended. And I truly hope you enjoy my interpretation of Vessel.

The burn felt good. The steam made you breathe heavier, but you didn’t want this to be easy. You wanted to feel every inhale—stand under the water until you were seared from within; until it felt like you were in your body and not a whisper away from being dragged into oblivion. 

You choked back a sob; still so fearful someone would hear you when you were the only one home. 

There was no reason for you to cry. 

So many people had it so much worse. 

But here you were, on the verge of panic because you didn’t feel like yourself. You didn’t even feel human. 

You wished you could put a name to it, but you couldn’t. 

What was wrong with you? 

Why did you have to feel like this? It came out of nowhere. Like you were struck by a fucking semi. 

You just wanted it to stop. You wanted to feel normal, to not have these sudden bouts of...of what? Melancholia? Sadness? Anger? No word seemed strong enough for it. 

All you wanted was to rip it out. 

Your tears fell harder. 

The water cooled. You turned the knob further. 

And then there were arms around you. 

You tensed, choking back your sobs and covering your mouth as if you could hide what he had already seen. 

Slowly, carefully, as if you would break, Vessel turned you to face him. 

Without a word, he cupped the back of your head and brought it into the crook of his neck. 

You refused to remove your hand. 

All it did was make your shoulders tremble. 

His fingers traced up and down your arm, more of a breeze than a touch. His other hand slid down to the back of your neck. The pressure of it spread through your body. 

Your hand dropped from your mouth and tentatively found its way to his chest. And as he inhaled, you let your hands travel to his back as you stepped closer. 

He held you there, head resting atop yours. 

It was only when you shivered that you realized he had turned you, blocking you from the piping hot spray. 

You sniffled, finally looking at him. 

He cupped your cheeks, brushing away the tear tracks, then pressed his forehead to yours. 

Let us go to our room, my love. 

His words passed into your mind. You nodded. 

He stopped the water, helped you out of the shower, and dried you both. 

He guided your limbs into your sleepwear and covered himself with loose black pants. He looked almost...human...like this. 

You couldn’t help thinking that he was more human than most everyone out there. 

---

Your day started out fine. 

You woke from a wonderful dream—one Vessel had created. A peaceful afternoon beneath a willow tree, snuggled into his side, his fingers trailing along your forearm, down to your fingertips. 

He had tilted your face toward his, kissing your forehead. You had closed your eyes, and when you opened them, you were in bed, his lips still pressed to your skin. 

You got ready for work, Vessel watching as you moved through your room to the bathroom and back. He enjoyed observing you. The personal rituals you did for different occasions, different times of day. Perhaps the one he enjoyed the most was when you asked for his opinion when your ensemble was complete. 

He’d stand from his perch on the foot of your bed and step toward you as if in a trance. 

“You are breathtaking, my love.” He always spoke it. He wanted you to hear the power in the words—the power you held over him. 

You left, and Vessel would gather with the others. You’d ask him about his day, but admittedly, you were still confused about everything they could do—everything they were charged with doing. 

Maybe that was where is started.

You didn't understand. Could never understand.

And a chasm opened.

You were so fucking stupid.

You deserved to feel like this.

Insignificant.

Unneeded.

Unwanted.

Everyone was better off without you.

He’d be happier without you. 

All these fucking noises.

Why was everything so goddamn loud.

Dogs barking. Cars honking. That fucking clock that wouldn’t shut the fuck up! 

It all made you so angry. Why were you so angry? 

You had to make it stop. 

That’s how you ended up in the shower. At least there you could control the noise. You could feel it mark you. Let the heat punish you. 

A hand on your back pulled you back to reality. 

Let me see you, darling. 

You didn’t move, wished you didn’t need to breathe.  

He didn’t deserve this. He needed someone as extraordinary as him, someone who could understand. You could barely wrap your mind around how vast he was; he was everything, and you were—

“You are my heart.” 

A sob escaped. You had forgotten. Too consumed in your own thoughts that you forgot to keep them from him, to stop projecting them. 

He whispered your name, and all you heard was his heartbreak. 

You refused to look at him, covering your mouth to keep your cries back. 

“Please,” he urged. “Please believe me. You are the most precious to me. Do not think of yourself with such loathing.” 

His hand rested on your side, a silent plea to face him. When you didn’t, he forced you to. He never did that—used his strength against you—but this was an exception. 

“I am the one who does not deserve you. My existence is burdensome to you...but I am too selfish. I cannot lose you. I will not leave you willingly. I...I will stay by your side...until you demand otherwise.” 

It pained him to imagine it. He was so bad at hiding his emotions. And yet, it was what you needed. That break in his voice parted your darkness. The thought of him ever not being here scared you.

“I don’t—” You hiccupped. “I don’t want you to leave.” 

“Darling,” he breathed, sympathy and relief in that one word. “Come here.” 

You wrapped your arms around his waist while his settled over your shoulders. 

“My place is by your side,” he said. “Thank you for allowing me here.” 

Squeezing, you nuzzled your face into his neck. The edges of his mask-like features settled you into reality. He was here and so were you, and you were together. 

You sniffled; throat too thick to speak. 

I love you. 

His mouth pressed into your crown. 

You are the one I cherish most. 

At the end of your exhale, relaxation enveloped you—a heaviness only he could instill. 

You didn’t want to talk. You didn’t need to. You just needed this day to be over. 

Sleep, my beloved. And awake anew. 

--- 

You didn’t dream that night, and you were grateful. It was the kind of emptiness you needed. 

When you opened your eyes, you were facing Vessel. Your fingers were touching, bodies apart but connected, always. 

Sometimes it was difficult to tell if he was awake. Even facing one another, the spaces where his eyes should be neither opened nor closed. His breathing was what gave him away. But not this morning. Today, it was the way his pinky finger wrapped around yours. 

Dearest one. 

It moved through your mind like a gentle breeze, and it sounded like “good morning.” 

He seemed to move before you did, anticipating you shifting closer, so his arm wrapped around you and his hand caressed the back of your head. 

You are rested? 

You hummed. He always asked when you both knew he didn’t need to. His insecurities needed the reassurance that he had helped you.

Yes. Thank you. 

You punctuated it by gliding your lips along his throat and placing a kiss above his Adam’s apple. 

The purr that erupted pulled the corner of your mouth up. He was always responsive in the mornings, less guarded before the walls of your bubble faded. 

What are you feeling? 

Not “how,” but “what.”  

Inhaling, you took stock of yourself. You recalled your pain from yesterday, but that already felt so long ago. Like your mind was trying to protect itself after what it put you through.

All you really felt was him. 

Safe. 

His head tilted downward so your foreheads touched. 

That pleases me. 

You rubbed your nose with his. Content to simply feel him. 

The others and I have decided I shall remain with you today. 

It had taken you a while to get used to the connection him and the rest shared. Honestly, you were a bit jealous. After all, how convenient it was to cancel plans just by thinking about it. He probably did it in the seconds before you woke up. 

So, what should we do? 

Anything that will make you happy. 

That sincerity always made you pause and scrutinize him. How could anyone truly mean that? 

Yet somehow, he did. Every time. 

And if I said this? 

You traced curves and swirls onto his back, reveling in the strength you felt within. Sometimes you swore his power was tangible. 

“Then I shall continue to warm your bed.” 

Your flush was instantaneous, and you knew he could feel it against his neck. But before you could stutter a reply, your stomach growled. 

“Perhaps breakfast first?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Definitely.” 

Taglist: @steph-speaks because one of my only points of pride is introducing you to ST.

Comment or message me if you wanna be tagged in future Vessel fics!

[x-reader-theater]

In Your Sleep, In Your Dreams {1}

summary: You find solace in another being when you dream.

pairing: Vessel x Gender Neutral!Reader

word count: 1491

warnings: None.

a/n: requests are now open. please see my rules here for more information. this will be a series but if you really want you can read this as a standalone.

In Your Sleep, In Your Dreams series: {Chapter 1}, (You can also use the tag #in your sleep in your dreams series as well if you don't want to use links)

Chapter 1: Meeting. Worship

You look around a darkened space. It’s not black, like the absence of light, but a deep grey, like the moon is illuminating the area. But, when you look up, the sky is the same deep grey as everything else. It’s a little dizzying. You feel yourself being pulled towards something, like there’s a string in your chest, and a puppet master is pulling you toward them. When you look down, you see nothing.

You let your chest guide you, your feet stumbling after it. You feel floaty, like if you jumped you could fly, however, at the same time, you don’t think you could jump if you tried. You’re unsure how long you walk, no aches or pains as you walk to note how far you’ve got, no panting, you barely feel yourself breathing, but if you concentrate enough, you can feel your heart beating in your chest and through your veins, like you’re even more aware of it now than you normally are.

Eventually, you see something. It’s a stage, surrounded by impossibly tall curtains. The stage itself is empty, save for a figure. It’s hard to make out the figure at first, looking more like a black blob of a human, but the close you get, the more details you can make out. The first thing you notice is the smoke like skin, dark grey like the world around but with texture, not quite patterned, but not uniform. It’s definitely a masculine person, his chest bare underneath an open hooded, knee-length sweater of some sort that seems thin, like it’s meant for looks and not for warmth. The pants he wears are loose fitting and made from that same thing material, and he’s not wearing shoes. The thing that stands out the most, however, is the white mask, with six eyeholes, a red symbol painted on the centre, and red spiral detailing around a cutout for his mouth that almost looks like viscera. You take a couple steps forward and the man leans down over the edge of the stage, his feet half hanging off it. He extends a hand, and you can’t help but reach out and take it.

You shiver as ice immediately lances through you, the man’s skin is incredibly cold and while you want to pull away, it’s like you just got a shot of pure adrenaline and everything is finally coming into focus. The man in front of you looks sharper than he once did, you can feel his soft his skin is, and you don't have to concentrate on your heartbeat any more to feel it pounding away in your chest and through your veins.

“Hello,” the man says, his voice deep and clear and almost hypnotising.

“Hello,” you respond. “Where am I?”

“You’re in a dream,” the man says, crouching down, so his eyes are more level with yours. “Sleep brought you here to me.”

“Oh,” you say, still not fully aware of yourself in this dream. “Why?”

“Because you’re special,” he explains.

“Oh,” you say plainly again. “Who are you?”

“I am a vessel of Sleep, chosen to speak for him, and to worship,” the man, Vessel, explains.

You nod like you understand any of it. In a way, you kind of do. Information about the entity known as Sleep drifts lazily into your mind, as well as information about Vessel, and three other Vessels that are not as loved as this Vessel, but still loved nonetheless.

“Okay,” you say, slightly dazed. “Why am I here?” You ask again.

Vessel laughs. “Because you’re special. Because Sleep wanted you here, for me, and for yourself,” Vessel explains, reaching out with his older hand to grab the one dangling at your side, heavy and tingly. “Sleep knows you’re lonely. Sleep wants to help. Sleep wants to give you a purpose.”

You think about this. About your life. About your job that you hate and coworkers that hate you. You think of your lonely apartment, devoid of life. You can’t even keep a plant alive, how are you expected to keep a pet alive too? You have no one and nothing.

Except now, maybe you do.

“This isn't real,” you say matter-of-factly.

Vessel chuckles. “Does this feel real?” He moves one of his hands from you, which drops back limply to your side, and reaches out, touching your face. You shiver again as the cold flesh brushes against you, but you feel how soft his skin is, especially as he starts to rub his thumb over your cheek. You lean into the touch and shake your head, your lips brushing against his palm over and over.

He moves your head up, tilting it towards him, and he brings the hand he's still holding up to his lips. They’re just as cold as the rest of him, but this time, when you shiver, it's not because of how cold Vessel is. You've got used to that now.

No, you shiver because he touches your face so tenderly, a feeling you haven’t felt in a very long time. He leans into your space, and you lean into his, needing to chase that feeling of being wanted. You feel his lips press against yours, and you melt into the touch. His lips are as soft as the rest of his skin, and that feeling returns. Vessel kisses you, and you feel love and purpose flowing between the two of you, back and forth, longing turning into satisfaction, hope turning into true, unfiltered, love. You don’t know if that love comes from Vessel himself, or if it’s Sleep filtering through Vessel’s lips, but it doesn’t really matter to you. For the first time in a very, very long time, you feel wanted.

Vessel pulls away, and you realise you had closed your eyes without noticing, and you slowly blink them open, You don’t know if you could see Vessel’s eyes beneath the mask before, but now you can see all six, blinking at you in synchronicity.

“Why me?” you breathe into the still air. Well, you think there’s air. Vessel said this is a dream, so it could very well be that there isn’t any air at all.

Vessel’s soft lips quirk into a smile. “Because Sleep knows you need purpose. Sleep knows you are lonely.” Vessel pauses, before leaning in again, his hand still on your cheek, his lips brushing against yours as he whispers, “Sleep knows how I am lonely.”

You surge forward, your nose smashing into Vessel’s mask, but you ignore the feeling as you deepen the kiss. You open your mouth and allow Vessel’s tongue to lick and prod, feeling around. When he pulls his tongue back, you extend yours, licking into Vessel’s mouth. You feel your legs give out when you brush your tongue across a sharp fang.

Vessel pulls back and reaches out, grabbing you before you can fall to the ground. He wraps his arms around you and with a strength no man should have, easily lifts you onto the stage, chuckling. Then again, apparently, this is a dream, and anything can happen in dreams.

“Careful,” he admonishes, and you laugh breathlessly along with him as you find your feet underneath you once again.

You throw your arms around Vessel’s neck, his lithely muscled arms wrapped around your waist, pressing your body to his. You stand like that for a moment, resting your head in the crook of Vessel’s neck. “I know this is a dream, but it feels so real…” you trail off into Vessel’s neck.

You feel the press of a kiss on the top of your head and Vessel’s arms constrict around your middle, pressing you closer to him. “It’s real if you want it to be.”

You chuckle. “Isn’t everything real if you make yourself think it is?” you ask dismissively.

Vessel chuckles. “I suppose so.”

You pull back, staring into the black voids of Vessel’s eyes and bring a hand up, placing it on his cheek underneath the mask before your eyes slip closed, and you lean in to kiss him again, that heartbeat that you can feel so strongly in your bloodstream quickening, and you sigh into the kiss.

You and Vessel stand like that for a few minutes, kissing, touching, and just generally enjoying each other and the feeling of closeness. You pull away eventually, when you feel breath in your lungs, lungs that are panting from lack of air.

“You’re waking up now,” Vessel explains.

“I don’t want to go,” you beg, breathlessly, finally feeling the breath that is leaving you.

“I know,” Vessel says with a sad smile. “You’ll be back. When you dream again, Sleep will bring you here.”

You lean up, going to kiss Vessel, but when you think you’re going to kiss him, you move past him, his form turns to smoke, and you wake up, the smell of rain and cigarette smoke filtering in through your window.

[despairots]

#𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍: SATOSUGU

「 satosugu x star plasm vessel! gender neutral! reader 」

GENRE: fluff and angst at the end i think

CONTENT WARNING: swearing, can be viewed as romantic or platonic, r! is the same age as them, canon violence, r! sorta takes riko’s spot but it’s much different actually, r! is the star plasm vessel by force, r! dies i think??? (edit: theyre get reincarnated).

AUTHORS NOTE: sorry for the lack of posts!!! im working on 2 big projects and its been taking up my motivation :(

star plasm vessel! reader: who was forced to be the vessel for tengen and having no choice but to live their life to the fullest until they’re merged.

star plasm vessel! reader: who has no interest in being protected when they’re bounty gets posted and hearing the white haired boy argue against them and whining about how he didn’t want to do it in the first place.

star plasm vessel! reader: who’s extremely clever and is a burnt out prodigy.

star plasm vessel! reader: who drives satoru and suguru insane by telling him that you can take care of yourself and doesn’t need his or suguru’s support or help.

star plasm vessel! reader: who starts realizing that maybe their help isn’t so bad when they recapture r!’s caretaker and spend the rest of r!’s bounty time in okinawa.

star plasm vessel! reader: who starts realizing that their life will end when they get back to jujutsu high to merge with tengen.

star plasm vessel! reader: who still hasn’t finished their bucket list when they get to the barriers of the school and hides their sadness under ignorance.

star plasm vessel! reader: who gets shocked when they see satoru get stabbed through the chest by a man they once recognized.

star plasm vessel! reader: who watches the two strongest sorcerers time up to pull this man back from satoru before he tells suguru to take r! to tengen.

star plasm vessel! reader: who hesitates but reluctantly agrees and follows suguru with their caretaker right behind them, worry settled deep in their chest.

star plasm vessel! reader: who starts getting emotional and regrets leaving everyone behind and telling how they feel about merging with tengen to suguru.

star plasm vessel! reader: who suguru and satoru care about a lot despite how stubborn they were and who suguru and satoru warm up too.

star plasm vessel! reader: who suguru reaches their hand to in a way to tell them they could go back and live life the fullest with the two boys and r!’s caretaker.

star plasm vessel! reader: who suguru watches with wide eyes when a bullet goes through the side of their head when they were about to touch his hand.

star plasm vessel! reader: who’s the reason why satoru and suguru aren’t the same and the reason why suguru left.

star plasm vessel! reader: who gets reincarnated 2 years later and has the memory of their past life and tries to search for the two boys.

star plasm vessel! reader: who gives up the search before seeing the white haired man pass by them in the winter, a blindfold instead of the sunglasses they remember he had (r!’s the same age as him rn).

star plasm vessel! reader: who catches his wrist before he disappears once again and stares at him with wide eyes and muttering his name.

star plasm vessel! reader: who makes satoru’s memories of the past rush in when he hears you whisper his name a second time before you hug him, repressing your tears.

star plasm vessel! reader: who settles down in a nearby coffee shop with him while satoru tells them what happened the past years.

star plasm vessel! reader: who starts thinking it’s their life because of how late they realize that they wanted to live.

star plasm vessel! reader: who satoru tells that it’s not their fault and instead partially his fault because he couldn’t hold the man back to reaching you.

star plasm vessel! reader: who stays with satoru as the years go back, eventually being introduced to his students and getting mistaken as his s/o.

star plasm vessel! reader: who’s there when they see suguru for the first time in years with his arms slung around yuta’s shoulders, trying to convince him to join.

star plasm vessel! reader: who refuses the urge to hug suguru when they realize it’s not the suguru when they were 16 and instead a criminal.

star plasm vessel! reader: who suguru refuses to look at, afraid that the memory of them dying infront of his eyes replays again but still grateful that they were alive and there.

star plasm vessel! reader: who’s there when suguru dies and satoru silently weeping at the loss of his bestfriend and his one and only.

star plasm vessel! reader: who tries their best while comforting satoru and his other friend, shoko, who they met a few years ago prior to coming back.

star plasm vessel! reader: who feels a rush of cursed energy and realizes that suguru is back and completely different.

star plasm vessel! reader: who doesn’t believe it and wants to see it with their own eyes and goes to shibuya without anyone knowing.

star plasm vessel! reader: who watches gojo go unhinged with admiration, yet shock, in their eyes while he massacres the curses.

star plasm vessel! reader: whose eyes widen when they see suguru with stitches all over his forehead and comes to the conclusion that it’s not suguru.

star plasm vessel! reader: who watches gojo get lost in the memories of him and r!, and eventually drops his guard silently to the point where he gets restrained.

star plasm vessel! reader: who gets dragged out of their hiding spot by mahito while trying to thrash free, a scowl present on their face.

star plasm vessel! reader: who starts getting concerned when they’re dragged up to the feet with a knife against their throat, watching satoru’s face go to worry.

star plasm vessel! reader: who watches the interaction between satoru and “suguru” eventually getting shocked when the body of suguru starts choking himself out.

star plasm vessel! reader: who starts pushing against the body that’s keeping them from running when they see gojo’s about to get sealed.

star plasm vessel! reader: who gets hopeless when they see satoru no more and instead, inside the prison realm… until it falls to the ground.

star plasm vessel! reader: whose eyebrows knit when they see suguru’s body react to seeing them.

star plasm vessel! reader: who inches away with the same scowl when kenjaku nears his face close to theirs and commenting about how r! was the reason why everything went to shit in the first place.

star plasm vessel! reader: who eventually gets released by the commands of kenjaku and suddenly seeing a different view instead of the train station.

star plasm vessel! reader: who waits, and waits, until satoru is released from the prison realm.

[an1mu5]

vessel's pre-venue jitters [nsfw - gn!reader]

-had to pause writing my lewis fic cause i listen to sleep token while i write and had a wicked idea pop into my head. now i can't stop thinking about vessel having mad anxiety before a show and the reader, who's also in the band, helping him calm down-

(i did not plan this out, i wrote it all on the spot, i just needed to get this out of my brain - i'm still prioritising my lewis fic)

word count: 886

cw: nsfw, swearing, sub!vessel, dom!reader, oral sex (m!recieving), reader's anatomy is not mentioned, no use of y/n, first fic posted! - author doesn't know what else to put here????

god i want him to mount me like thatfjsgtrwdsgvfyuiuh

you were a part of the band and served as a second guitarist next to iv, and you were always quite close to vessel - in ways that the others would always tease you about. although, you kept assuring them that there was nothing between you both, even when you used little petnames with each other.

you were searching for vessel right before a show to seek validation for a quirky idea you had about a little something you could do on stage. you never made rash decisions on the spot for fear you'd mess up the performance, very unlike the others.

you find vessel, still in one of the dressing rooms behind stage rather than getting ready to go out and perform.

you then notice that he's facing away from and has got his head against the wall, muttering small things to himself, and shaking slightly.

you approach to ask him what's wrong, to which he jumps a little, clearly not expecting you of all people to find him here.

"just... gimme a minute... get out there, i'll follow later..."

you're not having it. you make him sit down and notice the light sheen of sweat on his neck, which is already testing the integrity of the black body paint coating his skin. and he hasn't even done all his little dancey dances yet!

you ask him again what's up with him, kneeling down in front of him to appear less intimidating. he simply sighs. his shaky hands reach for yours, searching for that anchor to ground himself.

"just a bit nervous, love..." he mumbled as his hands interlocked with yours. "dunno why..."

you do your best to comfort him but none of your words seem to work, he always has a negative thought step in and frustratingly deflect your consolation with it's iron shield of self-deprecation.

as the time ticks quickly and you've now likely just less than 10 minutes before you have to go out on stage, and you definitely can't let him go out there like this. you need to release his tension somehow.

it's in this moment when you abandon your value of not making rash, on-the-spot decisions.

you slip your hands out from his, roll your mask up just above your nose, and begin make quick work of his belt, which ultimately made him panic a bit more.

"shit- w-what are you doing?!" he tried to stop you, but you simply swatted his hands away and began to shimmy his pants down his thighs.

you shushed him, telling him to just lay back and focus on the sensations. you assured him that you'd ease his nerves.

was it his fault that he trusted you?

he definitely goes commando under the costume, fucking fight me, i will die on this hill. he's also like 7-8 inches, yet you still believe you can take him all when you watch the length of it roll out like a red carpet.

you feasted on both his fat cock and the little moans you illicit out of him with stripe you lick up his long shaft, enticed as you witness him go from soft to rock hard after mere moments of you touching him.

your hand rested on his thigh while your other was tenderly fondling his balls as you suckled on his swollen, leaky tip. it was a struggle for him to keep quiet, who knows who could be lurking outside the unlocked door of the dressing room.

he could probably pass it off as him practicing his vocals should anyone have heard him.

his hand came up to nest on top of your head, gripping at the fabric of your mask as you slowly begin to take an inch of him into your mouth.

he struggles not to buck up and fuck the ever-living shit out of your throat.

you make quick work of him, taking as much of him in as you can, wasting no time in sucking him off. he softly whimpers out your name.

he finishes quickly with a loud stifled moan, you made it hard for him not to when you're bobbing up and down on his length like that, your tongue flattened, and your cheeks hollowed to optimise his pleasure.

he shoots his fat load deep down your throat, you swallow it all gratefully. your mouth pops off his cock, which is beginning to soften as he pants. he's certainly a lot calmer now.

however, he doesn't know if he could look at you the same while performing without getting hard again.

you may have eased his nerves but what have you done to his mind?

he tucks himself back into his pants, you pull your mask back down over the bottom half of your face, and you both leave the dressing room without uttering any words to each other.

vessel has a bit of a haze clouding his head while you regroup with the rest of the band, who are definitely smirking at you both for being gone until last second.

"you two snogging back there, or what?" iii teased you, making ii and iv giggle.

vessel was a little embarrassed, but he ignored it, finding comfort in the fact that they didn't exactly what it was that you two were doing.

you simply told them to get fucked as you all began to flood onto stage.

hey, hoped you enjoyed this! i haven't read it over, i wrote it all on the spot and am now posting it. please let me know if you have any icks or recommendations on how to make this better!

thank you for reading!

-leo :3

[iwantmystupidlifeback]

Vessel x reader (touch me)

His dark lips gently moved over my face not like a kiss but the way a cat will rub against your legs. He was feeling you in such an intimate way. Nothing of lust or greed or out of gain in his game. Your body rest across his right arm bend having your head in his forearm his Palm felt your hair and held your bare neck not in a grip but in a way to keep you still. Other hand was moving along your body over your shoulder to your hip. He was like an archeologist. As if he has discovered an ancient item but an item of gold. He worshipped his goddess sleep with nothing but loyalty with an undying love. But as you laid before him. He felt a connection a need. Nothing to gain or lose. He understood his goddess and even tho he could never hold her or see her he valued the women she brought to him. He was loyal but wanted more and to have you here made him so hypnotized,lost, lured into a dangerous dangerous trap. He refused to speak. The way you laid so relax so trusting so beautifully made a faint very very faint smile rest on his lips. From the color of your eyes down to the color of your hair to the length it was if the goddess herself had laid in his arms. He held no power no goal nothing. Just you letting him touch you letting his dark lips hands and body touch you felt like a sin you giving an aura of white then him head to toe in blackness. He could only marvel at you. He desperately wanted to sink into you. A need he never knew until now as everything around him was blurry your face was all his focus. He felt ashamed to even look to your body in amazement. If you were a statue he put you on the same alter as his beloved goddess ask the goddess to use you as a vessel for his own selfish desires. He knew his thoughts were selfish. He knew his mind was pledged with very unclean and dangerous thoughts. A possession comes over him as he leans closer lips kissing your cheek following down to your shoulder. Your soft skin against his lips made him so so greedy. He wanted to kill for you or die for you. He wanted to speak but his tongue was so trapped by you and you laid here silent in his arms not even speaking or looking at him managing to leave him speechless a man with so much to say and sing about left wordless to your presents. He wanted to beg to you. He held you in the flesh and bone and yet he needed to know you were real that you were alive. He brought his hand up speaking lowly “ open your eyes” when you listened he next to wanted to tell you to close them again his chest tightened and he felt overwhelmed by you. You know looking up at him made his mind blank his face under the mask complete in awe of you. Knowing you allowed a man who is far from what you need hold you made him just so possessive but angry you so much better,so so beautiful, so prefect. It made him angry to know you aren’t kept locked away like how people put gold in safes how countries hide their relicts in big building keeping guard to protect what is so precious. How he wished to keep you like this forever. His eyes meet yours. Hid with no color but wanting to absorb your color eyes. He lean closer inches from your face. You could hear him breathe you could read his eyes completely understand him, gently you touch his mask moving to connect lips with him the motion alone almost made him fall. But he returned the kiss., kissing you like as soon as he let go death herself was going to grab him by the robe dragging him away to a darker realm. His hand held the back of your neck possessively as his other cup your cheek. He held his breath just wanted you to never pull back but you do with a gasp and a smile that brought him almost to tears. He never tell a soul if he could keep you. He write in the holy text of your control of your beautiful soul. How he wished you to know his goddess and how he wished his goddess was you.

[sleepingdeath-light]

pure vessel smut hcs ; 18+

requested by ; anonymous (23/05/23) & xxrainmxx (23/05/23)

fandom(s) ; hollow knight

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; pure vessel / the hollow knight

outline ; “Pure Vessel/The Hollow Knight dating and smut hcs (separate) twirls hair”

&

“I read the announcement and I came to leave my humble request, if it's not too much trouble, can I request sfw and nsfw headcanons for pure vasel or the hollow knight as you feel better writing it?”

warning(s) ; sexually explicit content

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

note : this is effectively split into two sections to show the difference between their base personality and preferences in bed compared to what changes after they become the hollow knight

as the pure vessel, they’re incredibly considerate and gentle with you — treating you almost as if you’re made of glass

every touch and movement is carefully considered as they do everything they can to make sure that you’re safe and comfortable

this means thorough conversation before and after as well as frequent reassurances of consent before they do anything with you — giving you every opportunity to back down or set a new boundary

they try to establish a distinct safe word and/or safe action before you’re ever intimate and make sure that you remember both before you have sex

they’re a soft dominant and are naturally more of a giver than a receiver, happily spending hours pleasuring you without the expectation of getting anything in return — just enjoying the feeling of getting you off above anything else

pure vessel is also extremely well disciplined and has quite a bit of stamina because of their training and, as such, can last for what feels like forever in the bedroom

in other words, they usually only stop once you’ve used the safe word or if they notice you getting too tired to continue

the area between their horns is extremely sensitive and scratching it will make them let out a sound similar to a purr

they do have a bit of a size kink and do enjoy the height difference between the two of you, with it feeding into their natural desire to covet and tend to you

they’d definitely enjoy and appreciate the aesthetics of lingerie and decorative bondage — loving the process of setting both up and taking them off of you

they have a pretty low libido but are happy to tend to you in other ways if you have a higher sex drive than them

this includes: oral, hand jobs and thigh riding

they’re very quiet during sex and usually only make a humming/purring sort of sound — but when they cum they do tend to let out this rumbling groan that shakes you to the core

as the hollow night, however they’re much more feral and animalistic — manhandling you and tossing you about to their heart’s content

they have a thing for marking you — going so far that you’ll end up covered in bruises and cuts and scratches and bites by the end of the night

their stamina is still substantial but they won’t stop if you fall asleep

in fact they’ll only stop if you call out the safe word, it’s one of the only things they can remember and will respond to

they will fuck you wherever and whenever they please and have a much higher libido than they did as the pure vessel

when they go down on you, which they’ll do before and after using you, it’s a very messy affair and you’ll end up with your thighs covered in bruises and scratches and sweat and cum — the latter of which is also smeared across their face

they’re also incredibly vocal and will growl and roar and grunt and groan during sex — occasionally vocalising in a voice that isn’t entirely their own when the radiance comes further forward

whilst they still do pleasure you, they now prioritise themselves and it’s only really a happy coincidence that their efforts to seek out pleasure happen to make you cum

definitely a rough dominant and lean very heavily into the role, expecting true submission from you — or working towards earning it through their devotion to you outside of your sex life

very strong and is able to manipulate you into whatever position they desire — unless it involves a level of flexibility you do not have

they’re sadistic but they’re not outright cruel for the sake of it — not to you, anyway

[ficmachine]

Can I get a romantic nonbinary reader/Hollow physical affection headcanons? Like cuddling, hugging, kisses, holding hands that sorta thing? Thank you!

*holds them gently* I just love them so much :(

-

Oh Hollow is probably one of the most affection-seeking and affection-starved person you'll ever run into.

They know better than to initiate affection though, at least at first. You have to show them that it's okay for them to reach out and hug you, to hold you, to press their face into your neck and stay like that for as long as they need it.

It's... Very heartbreaking to find out they didn't know someone can be soft towards them, that it's okay for others to touch them and that they can say no; that they can return the physical contact if they so wish, but they are in no way required to if they don't want to. They have been nothing but a vessel made to keep the Radiance at bay, and now they have to learn how to function as a normal person.

It is a tough and long process. A lot of crumbling walls, learning boundaries and breaking what's been drilled into them for so long - teaching what they never have been taught.

Even now they hesitate to reach out when they need you be it out of shame, guilt or self-hate, but they're slowly working on it. You have no idea how grateful they are both for you and your patience with them.

As difficult as they sometimes find physical touch to be Hollow will absolutely hold you close to them whenever you hug them, holding you in a way where you can feel them tremble in worry that if they let go too early you'll disappear. You won't, and they know you won't, but they're still terrified of being alone again.

How about kisses though? Would you, perhaps, like them to lean down to your eye-level so that you can hold their face in your warm hands? They'll even try to hint at it by butting their head into you oh so very gently if the two of you are sitting down.

They adore when you press your lips all over their face and when you hold them in your arms, it makes them feel all giddy and happy inside. They love that feeling so much – they love you so much.

[myfanfic-urfantrash]

Snippets #4

Dainsleif x GN!Reader

A/N: we can have a little bit of my SAGAU interpretation as a treat.

-------

Never, in all of his five hundred years of torture, did Dainsleif believe he'd find relief. Never did he think himself worthy of retribution or saving. And never did he expect that they, the Divine One's child the Observer, would grace his presence.

He has always despised divinity, those whose whimsy could both destroy or save it's people with the flick of a wrist. But he does not hate them.

He does not hate when they hold his face with ghostly fingers and fail to wipe his tears. He does not hate how easily they forgive him of his sins though they cannot remove his curse.

He does not hate them, he cannot hate them because they are just as much of a victim as he. This beautiful and disgusting world of theirs has been warped beyond their recognition and its people no longer regard them as the child of it's true God.

So he will let them stay within him asleep until the moment is right, for when a more suitable vessel is ready so they can fix this world that's wronged them both so heavily. And though he will miss their presence that now travels through that golden traveler he knows that it isn't the end.

That one day, when they are strong enough he will feel that warmth of theirs once more.

[vampiresfromxenon]

Kiss It Better

Astarion x gender neutral! Reader/Tav

Around 2.2K words 

Tags: Fluff, kissing, blood, soft!(ish?) Astarion, hurt/comfort, angst, 3rd person, no use of y/n

CW: Blood, deep wound on hand, existential thoughts (?)

Summary: After accidentally cutting your hand on your blade, Astarion is the only one in the camp to help you deal with it. You’ve been seeing him for awhile now, but this is the first time you’ve ever seen him actually care. Perhaps he does feel the same way about you…

~

With the daylight fading, you rest just outside your tent, wiping the blood off of your blade with a damp rag. As you sit there, shining it to perfection, you can’t help but analyze your reflection, thinking about the events that led you to having newer, fresher scars on your face. It’s been a few months since the start of this nightmare, since the start of having these things inside your head. The tadpoles weren't that bad to deal with, but your feelings were worse. 

You’ve grown to love all the companions you’ve met along the way, laughing and enjoying their company as you travel across the land, searching for answers, for a cure. You all keep each other safe in one way or another, and while you hate to get too attached, knowing this won’t last forever, you feel as though you found your family, especially since you can’t remember your real one. God, your real family. One you once knew but now have no memory of. Your past is a mystery, and it haunts you, much more than the gnawing idea that you could become a mind flayer at any waking moment. 

You want to remember. Oh, so desperately do you want to remember, but you can’t. That is not an option for you. And besides? What good would that do you now? You can only confront the horrors that lie before you. The thought of losing your friends, the thought of losing yourself. The thought of losing… No. You can’t bear the thought of losing him.

You find your heart sinking in your chest at the thought of him turning into a mind flayer. Your chest aches at the thought of where you promised you’d stab him if, Gods forbid, he turns. Looking into his eyes and seeing nothing, no life, no character, but a vessel. A vessel for these wretched things. It was becoming too much to handle. Your body begins to tremble from these false images enveloping your thoughts, these twisted and sickly ideas corrupting your mind for far too long. You’re so distracted by these terrors that you fail to notice the fact that you started to scrub the blade harder, or even more pressing, the fact that you dropped the rag. 

In one swift movement, your palm forcibly glides across the blade, drawing both blood from your palm and a string of curses from your mouth. The images disappear, fleeing your mind as you pick up the rag and crush it into the palm of your hand to stop the bleeding. The blade was no longer important in this moment, tossed off to the side for later. You storm into your tent, clutching your hand, searching for any sort of healing potion or power that you could find. Shadowheart and the rest of the camp had left to explore the town for the night, leaving you all to your lonesome, or so you thought. 

You sit on a cushion, exasperated and upset with yourself and your doomed existence. Removing the cloth, you take a closer look to see just how bad the wound is, trying to ignore the stinging feeling. Distracted by the blood, you fail to hear a visitor’s light footsteps approaching. 

“Oh dear, what happened to you?” A charming voice rings out. 

You turn to see a pale, slender elf standing in the opening of your tent, his white hair perfectly styled as always, his piercing red eyes invading your soul. Shoving the rag back into your burning palm, you attempt to hide your mistake, though you know he smells the blood from miles away. 

“I had a moment of clumsiness, nothing more.” You stated in a nonchalant tone, attempting to downplay your embarrassment. 

You turn your hand away from him, your eyes drifting around your tent, avoiding his gaze. He slowly approaches you, kneeling down on the cushion you are sitting on. He moves his head to meet your gaze, not wasting a second of eye-contact. 

“Mind if I take a look, darling?” He purrs, asking more nicely than usual. 

Your heart begins to race as he leans over you a little, prying into your personal space. If it were anyone else, you would push them away, but he invited himself in so much that you couldn’t help but miss it when he left. However, in this moment you did not want to feel this vulnerable, this embarrassed at your mistake; you couldn’t help but push him away just a little. After all, he is not known for having the best 'bedside manner’, if any at all. Meeting his eyes, you give him a knowing look.

“I’ll be alright on my own, thank you, Astarion. Besides, I thought you went into town with the rest of the camp?” You inquire, suddenly aware of just how much your feelings of being alone may have been an illusion. 

“I had no need to go, and honestly I couldn’t take any more of Gale’s whining about ‘needing to eat magical artifacts’. I know everyone complains about my diet, but let’s be realistic here for just a moment…” He looks away smirking, proud of his own snarky comment. Turning back to you, there is suddenly a shift in tone on his face. While he still has his typical look, one that is oozing with flirtatious energy, he looks a bit more serious, concerned even. You’ve never seen this side of him before, and it shocked you considering just how insignificant he’d find a wound like this normally. 

“Let me see it, please.” His voice was low, softer than usual, but commanding. One of his hands reaches across you, his hand ghosting over yours. You can’t help but lift your bloody hand so his palm touches the back of your hand. Never breaking eye-contact, he pulls your hand closer to him, gently pulling the rag from your white knuckles. Looking down, he notices just how bad the cut is, taking up most of your palm. 

“Oh, my dear… How did you do this?” His voice is more concerned now, his thumb gently rubbing circles into your wrist. His eyes soften, and you can’t help but think back to what put you in this mess to begin with. Your body trembles once more, eyes breaking his gaze as you stare down at your hand. 

“My hand slipped while cleaning my blade. It’s alright, I just need to wait for Shadowheart to come back…” You trail off. 

“Why wait for Shadowheart? I can make you feel better, you know…” His free, slender hand reaches down and grabs your chin, gently raising your head to face his again. You blush from his touch, his willingness to command your body. Your mouth falls open a little, unsure of what to say or how to respond to such a comment from him. You were used to his flirting, but this unlocked a whole new feeling in you. He could sense your speechlessness, and so he did the one thing he knew how to do best: make you even more flustered. 

“Would you like me to kiss it better?” He asks in his normal, teasing tone. This offering catches you off guard, breaking your immersion in this intimate moment. You can’t help but laugh, thinking now that he was only just charming you like he does everyone else. Continuing to laugh, you call him out. 

“Very funny, Astarion. Hilarious. Need I remind you of when I was opening up to you not that long ago and you said almost the exact same thing? Seems to me you’re running out of tactics here.” You roll your eyes, not amused by his antics.

You feel his grip tighten on your bleeding hand, pulling it closer to him. Looking to see what he is doing, you connect with his eyes one more time, seeing an almost predatory look. You stop laughing, your face heating up once again, your heart pounding as his soft lips connect with your wounded palm. It still stings, and you wince a little at the contact, but you can’t seem to look or pull away from him. He kisses all along your palm, and you can feel him gently sucking at the blood. Not only was he kissing you better, but he was feeding on you. 

If you weren’t so attracted to him, you’d be much more upset. Instead, you sit on this cushion while the vampire of your desires kneels before you, kissing and sucking at your wounded palm. You can feel his tongue lapping at your skin, his fangs ever so slightly poking out from behind his lips. Yes, he was feeding, but was he… actually kissing you too? His hands continue to massage the back of your hand and your wrist, trying to provide you comfort without completely invading your space. Eventually he stops, planting a final kiss on your wrist, his mouth covered in blood. He licks his lips, and you can’t help but tremble now but for a whole new reason. 

“Better?” He asks, smiling enough to show his fangs this time. 

“You just wanted an excuse to suck at my hand, didn’t you?” You raise an eyebrow, an attempt to see through him.

“I am always looking for any excuse to suck at any part of you, my sweet.” His voice is low once more, a rumbling laugh escaping his lips.

He finds a section of the rag not absolutely soaked in blood and pushes it back into your, now much cleaner, palm. Your whole face is flushed now, unable to think of any more witty remarks or comebacks. For the second time in just a few small minutes, he found yet another way to leave you completely speechless. The sly vampire decides to take advantage of your silence once more. 

Letting go of your hand, he leans forward, his lips connecting with yours. It’s soft, gentle, and new. To be fair, while you have spent a few intimate nights together, this moment here alone feels so much more real, so much more genuine. Almost as if he was kissing you… because he wanted to. A real, genuine want. His hand caresses the side of your face, his other landing on the small of your back as he continues to kiss you. Without hesitation, you lean into the kiss, your body elated by his touch. It’s not long before he deepens the kiss, his tongue parting your lips, wanting more from you. 

He tastes of iron, what more could you expect, but for once you don’t hate the taste. You invite it more into your mouth as he continues to lean even further over you. He begins to push you back, your body relaxing into the cushion. He breaks from the kiss, planting small kisses on your face, trailing them down your jaw and to the side of your neck. You can’t help but close your eyes, softly sighing as he kisses at your skin, sucking softly, his fangs once again poking you. He had been feeding off you almost every night now for weeks while you were dead asleep, and while it was unusual for you two, it was so much more enjoyable to experience it this way. He lifts his head, meeting your eyes as a way of warning you he was about to bite. He opens his mouth, his fangs protruding, ready for the taste of your flesh and blood. 

“Helloooo? Astarion? Tav? We’ve got some goods!” Yells out Karlach, just a few meters away from your tent.

Shit. He sits up, kneeling over you, looking dissatisfied. You sigh and throw your head back into the cushion, frustrated. His cool hand caresses your cheek before tracing down your arm. He leans in close to your face one last time, his breath warming your skin. 

“Shall we finish this later tonight, my love?” He purrs, not even remotely finished with you.

You nod, still unable to speak from the last few eventful minutes. He kisses your cheek before standing. “Find me in the woods at our little spot, just after everyone has gone to bed. Don’t keep me waiting.” He flashes one last cheeky smirk before exiting your tent. 

“Hello, Karlach. Gale find any boots to devour today?” He quips, and you can’t help but laugh when Gale offendly responds.

The camp erupts in conversation, and you find yourself leaving your tent after a few minutes to track down Shadowheart. She heals you in her tent, though she has quite a few questions. Giving vague enough responses, she accepts them and lets you be on your way, but she’ll definitely be curious about it for a while. 

No matter, the only thought you could think of now was what Astarion had planned for both of you tonight; you knew exactly what was going to happen, but there was this whole new sense of excitement now that you could tell there was something deeper, real, and authentic going on between you two. You lie there in your tent, waiting for the snoring and sleep talking to begin to resonate throughout the camp, eager to scamper off into the wilderness with the elf you adore.  

-

Author's Note:

Hello! I haven't written any fan fiction in a loooooong time, and none of it was ever good to begin with- I've been struggling with writer's block for awhile now, and this was the first thing to break me out of it... lmao. I am very new to BG3 in general honestly, and I just barely started act 2. Please no spoilers, but also if Astarion is sorta OOC, I hope that explains why too :)

I've only had Astarion for what, two, three weeks now, and this man is just so whewww. I thought of this fic idea right as soon as I started a longer drive, and I started recording my thoughts on video so that way I wouldn't forget anything before I could start writing hahaha- I blushed so hard writing this, hope y'all feel the same

Hope you enjoy!

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Siren's Song [Part 2]

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: Fish are friends (?). You are not food.

[PART 1] [PART 2]

The Siren wasn’t leaving.

Which a part of you had been expecting. Because surely if there had been a snowball’s chance in Hell of him making it out into the open ocean alive before you’d cut through the ropes, he would have taken it and left you stranded without a second thought. And his odds weren’t that much better now—his fins were still a mangled mess and the wounds all along his scales and dainty featherings were still raw and oozing. It only made sense that he’d take at least a few days to try and recover.

But… But still.

Did he have to make it so obvious that he was sticking around?

The glint of the light off his tail was a constant distraction—always bright and eye-catching even at the cloudiest points of the day. Always flashing just out of the corner of your eye as a perpetual reminder that there was something in the water that would very happily gobble you up if you bothered making a swim for safety.

He’d also taken to sunning himself. Like some kind of overgrown mer-cat. Stretched out languidly on a flat rock with the tips of his violet fins hanging over the edge—just enough for the gauzy edges to play along the surf and avoid drying out entirely. His pale hair splayed out in a halo around him as he snoozed softly in the heat of the afternoon.

Which! No fair! This wasn’t a vacation! This was a stranding! An SOS! A Rose Queen Procedural Rule Four-Hundred-and-Four! And him taking up the whole of the cove to, I don’t know, tan, felt like another intentional slap in the face. The sun rose over the bay, which meant this stretch of shore was facing East. Which was the direction your vessel had been coming from. Which meant that this was the place on the little islet where you needed to be. Subsection Three of Procedural Four-O’-Four. ‘In the case of Crew Overboard, we will always travel the same route as planned. In order to give the Strandee a chance to map out a reconnection point.’ Riddle always had been so smart about these kinds of things.

‘It’s just until he’s better,’ you reassured yourself for the umpteenth time that morning. ‘Then he’ll leave and I can get rescued or die here alone and in peace.’

A fin flicked up from the shallows to spray you with saltwater splatters and you spluttered indignantly when it ran down into your eyes. You glared at the Siren’s retreating back, musing bitterly about how you’d never thought it was possible for someone to make the tuck of their shoulders look smug.

‘Alone and in peace,’ you repeated hopefully. And it sounded like such far off dream.

.

.

On the second day post-rope-removal, the Siren waved you down with a sharp flick of his wrist.

You approached the waterline hesitantly, still mostly waiting for him to turn on you and make toothpicks out of your bones. But instead of murdering you and getting crafty with your corpse, he just pointed to some scribbles in the sand. You squinted at the loop-de-loops suspiciously. It almost looked like an illustration of dancing bubbles—the lot of them curling and popping along the ground in a line like a limerick. 

“Uhm, very nice,” you tried, and the fins flattened pissilly all along the side of his head.

He jabbed his claw towards the mess again. Then firmly at your eyes (hopefully not as a threat that he’d be happy to take them right out of your head if you continued to be obtuse). And then back again. He made a point to move the tip of his sharp nail from one swirl to the next in a little hop-hop-hop. It reminded you a bit deliriously of Riddle trying to teach some of the more socially bereft members of the crew their letters, and—

“You want me to read that?” you gaped, staring at the elegant curls of nonsense in the sand.

The Siren crossed his arms across his lean chest with a scoff that puffed past his lips hard enough to fluff out some of the paler, purple-tipped, hair hanging by his chin. He rolled his eyes at you and muttered something thin and spicy under his breath that you just knew had to be some sort of insult.

“I can read!” you defended, because it felt like it needed defending.

He leveled you with an entirely unimpressed ‘Oh, I’m sure you can’ sneer and you dropped to your knees, incensed. You dug your fingers into the sand and started sculpting out your own very cheery message into the muck.

When you were done, you waved a hand towards your proclamation and watched his brows pull together at the center into a teeny, pinched sort of expression. He let himself roll forward with the seafoam to lay more fully on the shore, and stared down at the mess you’d made like it was some strange code. Even reaching out to poke softly at the straight edge of a ‘T’ with one of his knife-sharp talons.

After a long moment of contemplation, he looked back up at you with an arched brow that was so unintentionally poised and not full of spite that it almost took your breath away. Who knew how pretty an already stunning face could become when it wasn’t twisted up in absolute vitriol? You shook away that absolutely damning thought in horror. That’s exactly what he’d want you to think. Siren, and all. Using his hotness to lure people onto his dinner table. Not you, baby. Because you were smart. And so gross from being stranded under island sunshine for a week that surely you’d taste like some absolutely rancid jerky at this point.

“Oh no,” you droned, and immediately that subtle curiosity of his ticked right back into irritation. “Two creatures from entirely different species and ecosystems have somehow managed to develop unique alphabets. What a completely unpredictable complication.”

The Siren puffed up like an angry lionfish and turned with a snarl to dive back into the shallows—making sure to whip his tail in your face and slam into the water with a huge splash as he went. The salt spray pelted down like rain and you snickered as it sloughed off your cheeks in rivulets, content to sit merrily in the wet sand beside your hastily scribbled: ‘Mermen Are Vicious Bitches. Hit Me if You Agree :)’

.

.

The next morning, there were more fish on the shoreline. Though these ones looked a bit less like they’d been dragged up by their souls and left to writhe in the wake of Siren-Screaming-Agony and more just like the unfortunate victims of a pair of too sharp claws.

You frowned down at a brown, sad-looking flounder that had clearly found itself at the very wrong end of a certain merman still swanning about in the bay not fifty feet away. It was mostly intact, and pleasantly plump for a flat, pancake-looking blob of muck. Your stomach gurgled and the thought of a nice, coal-charred, fillet really seemed quite nice. You chanced another peek at your resident Asshole, debating if it was worth swiping his snack. Another ominous rumble from your abdomen and you reached down to steal your prize and scuttle off deeper inland like a troll returning to its layer.

It didn’t take very long to get a small fire going, and within the hour you’d been fed and were more than ready for a cozy, full-bellied nap in the soft sand.

By the time you began to make your way back to the cove, the sun was high in the sky and you were already dreading sitting beneath its weighted rays for another afternoon. So you slowed your pace to a near snail crawl, dragging your feet as you went.

The little octopus from earlier was still swaying contentedly around the tide pool you’d shoved it into. It probably needed to be carried back out to the bay at some point so that it could swim back into the depths of the ocean, but the poor thing was just so small and round. Surely it’d get devoured by the first sharp-toothed thing that caught sight of it. Especially with your merman apparently being out for the blood of whatever other scaly things were swimming about in his temporary home. So for now you slipped it some small bits of leftover fish instead. You sat, crouched at the pool’s edge, and watched raptly as it grabbed the shredded bits of pale meat with its chubby tentacles to shove towards an eager beak.

“You’re the only friend I have left in the whole world,” you told the octopus miserably, wiping the greasy remnants of your lunch off your chin with a sigh.

The traitor hurriedly moved to snatch up the treat you’d offered it and hide itself away between some rocky crevices. You sighed louder. Rejected. What a time to be alive. 

.

.

The next morning, the Siren was singing again.

That familiar prickle danced its way up your arms, leaving pinpricks of goosebumps in its wake. Some pirates told tales of storms leaving their mark in such a way—that seasoned sailors could feel the tickle of thunder against their skin long before they could spot dark clouds on the horizon. You’d have to amend that little legend whenever you found your way back to The Rose Queen. Siren Sense was a lot cooler, anyways. Any idiot with arthritis could tell you when rain was due.

But either way, Mister Merman was back to idly circling the bay and calling into the distance. At least it wasn’t as miserable as it had been the other day—more of a leisurely pacing than the frantic, near-feral caterwauling that had soured your gut so terribly.

There was another fat fish on the shore. A bright, red snapper so brilliantly crimson that it was almost impossible to make out the garish wounds in its side. Almost. And even if it hadn’t been, the drooping, rust colored, rivulets dug into the sand would have been enough of a clue.

Why the Siren was bothering to leave his clawed-up kills at your feet like some overgrown cat dragging in mice, you had no idea. Maybe he was poisoning them, and subsequently you. Maybe he was bored and it was some sort of fishy enrichment. Maybe he just didn’t want to bother leaving dead things around to contaminate his favorite sunning spots, and tossing his leftovers in your vicinity was as close to a reliable dumpster as he could find on a remote island. Who’s to say.

Either way, you dutifully ignored the magical tingles racing up your shoulders and brought the newest fish back to your makeshift firepit. You grilled the snapper in silence, debating. Then you fed your octopus friend and returned to the beach, cooked fillets in tow.

You waited in awkward silence for a few moments, fish burning your palms, before raising your fingers to your lips and whistling loud enough to make your teeth ache. The mystical static faded from the air and you watched in pleasant (?) surprise as the Siren made his way back to where you’d set up camp. He rolled in with the tide, cresting on a gentle bit of surf and coming to rest neatly in the shallows—fins splayed out beneath him like a lord lying amidst his many silken robes. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at you with an arched brow and slanted frown.

You awkwardly extended a hand—roasted snapper still resting in your open palm and burning the absolute fuck out of your fingers.

“Uhm,” you said, feeling a bit too much like the local idiot trying to feed one of the rabid, wandering, strays around town. “Food?”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes at you.

“Do you want food?” you tried.

The other brow joined the first, nearly rising all the way into his hairline. It wasn’t a pleasant sort of surprise.

“It’s better cooked?” you coaxed in the face of his outright constipated scowl. Be fed and full, you thought hopefully. Maybe then you won’t fucking look at me like I’m a boxed lunch.

He jabbed a sharpened, black talon in your direction, and then pointedly again angled up towards your mouth. Then back to the fish still roasting your poor cuticles straight off your fingers.

You blinked, a bit thrown.

“What? It’s supposed to be for me?”

He nodded, throwing in another one of those bombastically snarky eyerolls for good measure. ‘Obviously,’ that sneer said.

“Well,” you huffed, plopping down to sit cross-legged in the sand and offering up one of the fillets. “There’s plenty for both of us.” When he stared at you like you were attempting to serve him up a choice pile of literal dog shit, you wiggled your hand and entreated, “Please just take it before my skin melts off.”

The Siren huffed and reached out, plucking up the fish with the tips of his claws. He observed your meager meal as one might a particularly unappealing cockroach, and after a long moment, his nose scrunched (cute, you thought absently before immediately suffocating every wayward braincell that would dare call your murderous shore-neighbor anything of the sort) and he leaned forward to nip at a crisped, pink corner with the barest edge of one canine.

When your culinary creation didn’t immediately strike him dead on the spot, he took another, equally dainty bite. And then another. The tight pucker of his mouth eased as he chewed, and you watched as the harsh cut of his purple irises warmed with that same intrigue as they had when you’d first scribbled your foreign letters into the sand.

He readjusted his grip on the fish between his claws to get a better angle and took a proper bite, chewing thoughtfully. Before you knew it, you were watching him nip at the pads of his fingers, his gaze going a bit round and shocked when he realized that he’d devoured the entirety of it.

“See?” you hummed, tucking into your own portion with gusto. “Not all things humans come up with are terrible.” He harumphed and turned to glare back out over the bay, slouching into the surf with an expression that was most certainly not a pout. “But maybe you’d know that if you bothered to do anything other than murder and devour us on sight,” you chirped.

To which you were immediately doused with an armful of water for your troubles. The Siren glowered petulantly from where he’d just wave-bombed you, and then dove back into the deeper waters of the sandbar. He immediately started up his stupid singing all over again—pointedly keeping his chin high above the surface and splashing brine into your face anytime he looped close enough to shore.

“I don’t know why I bother,” you huffed, and ate your sopping snapper in grumpy silence.

.

.

There was a ship wrecked off the coast.

Nothing overly cool, and definitely only a small chunk of what had probably at one point been a rather impressive vessel. But it was something. The first change in pace you’d had in days and oozing with possibilities.

The only problem was that the great, rotting, hull of the thing was dug up into a jagged skerry about a hundred yards off the shore—wedged into the pointed rocks with no chance of any wave or breeze sending it adrift. You could swim perfectly well. I mean, living your life on a ship surrounded by tumultuous, depthless, ocean would have been a hugely stupid career move otherwise. The issue, naturally, was the thing currently making its home in these waters. Sharks and barracudas, blablabla. They were just animals, no matter how many teeth they had. The Siren had a grudge. And just as many teeth.

Right now, said spiky pain in your ass was lounging in the shallows like the froth was an elegant daybed made just for him—shredded fins swaying in the soft tides and his hair floating about him that same, white-gold halo that made him look far too peaceful for anyone’s good sense. He wasn’t singing today, which was great for the local wildlife population but terrible for your Siren Sense. Once you waded into the waves, you’d have no real way to keep track of him. Hope, maybe, that he didn’t think fucking with you was worth messing up whatever tan-line he had going on. But nothing concrete that you’d be willing to bet the safety of your limbs on.

You wiggled your toes in the sand and stared longingly out at the stupid, wrecked ship that was so stupidly close. If you swam your fastest you could probably make it there in under two minutes—less than that, even. But that was still more than enough time for the Siren to rake those dark claws of his across your throat and drag you down into the depths to drown.

Riddle’s angry, red face swam through your thoughts, and you could practically see him shoving that beloved law tome of his under your nose for the umpteenth time.

‘Rule 32, never make dangerous bets that you’re certain you won’t win, particularly if you are betting against a Blue Nosed Beetle.’

‘Rule 15, do not needlessly sacrifice your life in the name of curiosity, excluding—of course—if you hail from Cheshire or are a Cat.’

‘It’s only a dumb shipwreck,’ you thought miserably, if rationally. ‘It’s probably not even that cool.’

Your captain would be so proud.

.

.

The next morning you were rolling up the cuffs on your pants and wading into the cool shallows, silently lighting a candle in your heart for your beloved, steam-faced leader and promising that you would at the very least cover the costs of your own funeral so as not to inconvenience him further.

The waves lapped against your ankles and the waters themselves were shockingly clear and blue. You could practically see each grain of sand beneath your heels—make out each pointy rock and the little, red crabs that scuttled away from your tromping like civilians fleeing from the shadow of a leviathan. The Siren was back to singing today. Perhaps his poor, overworked throat simply needed a break every now and again. But either way, your Merman Magic Missive was working in full force. The hairs on your arms stood at full attention and you liked to imagine you could see them twitching in circles to follow his long, looping arcs through the bay.  

You made it up to your knees and waited, eyes scanning the open water and nose twitching like maybe you could smell the fucker. There was nothing but a familiar prickle along your shoulders and that deep sense of ‘tug tug tug’ with no answer, so you took a deep breath and pushed further, the water sloshing up to your hips, your chest, and finally you were floating—paddling slow and cautious towards the wreckage.

It really was insanely close. Even moving at your most cautious, sneakiest crawl, you’d made it nearly three-quarters of the way there within perhaps five minutes. And no signs of a vengeful, hungry Siren circling the waters beneath you either. More rules that perhaps that you’d have to tell Riddle might need some amending  once you finally made it back home to your crew. ‘Dangerous bets,’ who? ‘Needless sacrifice,’ what? You might as well have outsmarted the whole ocean.

As you moved closer, you could make out a strange coat of arms on the side of the hull that you didn’t recognize. Twining, silver songbirds soaring against the sparkly backdrop of an otherwise plain faced crest, which honestly looked far too delicate to be heading the broken remains of what was no doubt at one point an absolute monster of a vessel. You reached out to brush your fingers against the shining plaque and then you were underwater.

You fought the immediate impulse to gasp in surprise, because expediting the process of your inevitable drowning just seemed stupid even by your standards. There was a clawed hand wrapped around your calf yanking you down, and you squinted through a stream of panicked bubbles to see your terrible, horrible, completely thankless co-strandee snarling up at you with sharp teeth and a sharper flail of his delicate gills. Thankfully the water wasn’t all that deep, so by the time you’d been dragged to the bottom you were maybe only ten feet under. But still. It was the goddamn principle! And besides, you’d heard about enough drunks drowning in puddles to know that this was more than enough Liquid Death to put you in an early grave.

The Siren looped around you in tight circles, and you could feel the brush of his tattered fins against your skin like the ghostly fingers of a reaper trailing down your spine. You’d known he was big—giant, even. Long, and impressive, and built to rule the very depths he’d dragged you into. Large enough to wrestle with sharks and capsize lifeboats. Big enough, no doubt, to eat you whole and still be hungry enough for seconds.

The salt stung your eyes and you blinked hard to keep his vibrant, amethyst tail in focus. Would he strike from the back, where you couldn’t see? Or would he go right for your throat—a direct, full frontal, ‘fuck you, human’ if there ever was one. And honestly, what were you expecting? That a good deed and a few pieces of cooked fish would sway him from devouring you whole? Maybe the island sun had fried whatever remained of your rattled brain.  

He stopped in front of you and hissed—a stream of tight, tiny, bubbles jetting past his canines. You glared in petulant confusion, absolutely refusing to give your would-be murderer whatever reaction he was hoping for. His brow pinched into a tight, angry, v and he snarled again. You snarled back, and with that, the last breath in your lungs swooped out of you in a tight squeak. You choked, and struggled, and kicked at the claws holding you down. The Siren reared back, eyes widening in something that looked insultingly like genuine surprise, and you used his moment of hesitation to propel yourself off the sandbar and back to the choppy surface.

You gasped in a hasty breath, expecting to immediately be dragged back under. But when you weren’t pulled back down to your watery grave, you took in another and another. Gasping, and hacking, and spitting up seafoam. The Siren’s head crested the surface beside you and you flailed away, nearly pushing yourself under all over again. You paddled frantically, trying to keep your nose above the tide, and then suddenly there was something under you. You squawked and kicked it on instinct. The Siren snapped his pointy teeth in your face and you realized with a start that oh. That was him, wasn’t it? The long, winding, scaled muscles of his tail curled beneath your toes in what almost seemed like an attempt to keep you upright.

He stared at you with those unnervingly bright eyes of his—blonde hair curling softly at the edges where it plastered elegantly along his finned ears, and those too-long lashes dripping with small, sparkly, drops of salt water.

“What the hell is this bullshit?” you choked, coughing up more bubbly froth. “You don’t get to look so—so put together after trying to murder me!”  

The Siren huffed out something that the delusional, still half-drowned, part of you wanted to classify as a laugh. And then he organized that bemused expression back into its usual, haughty, iciness and began to carefully make his way back towards the shore—towing you along like a poor, little, lost buoy with nowhere else to go.

You let him drag you up into the sand and only flopped around a little. He flicked his tail at you and your dramatics and you turned on him with a fierce, waterlogged scowl—a bit more confident now that he didn’t have the home field advantage.

“What was that for! I just wanted to look at the ship! I wasn’t even doing anything to you!” you wailed. “I haven’t done anything to you at all! Ever! Why do you keep—" you collapsed back into the sand with a miserable whine that rattled all the teeth in your head, and ground the heels of your palms into your eyes until you saw stars.

After a long moment of nothing, you felt a gentle tap at your shoulder.

You looked back up with a start to see Mister Merman looking nearly sheepish.Or as much of an equivalent that his aloof mask of a face was capable of pulling off. The clawed finger resting at your collarbone dropped to the sand by your hip, and he carefully began to draw more of those squiggles. No, scratch that. Not the dancing, popping, ones from the other day. These actually looked sort of like the silver songbirds from that shipwreck. More jagged, certainly. But similar enough that you felt something a bit too coldly cautious to be confusion seep through your guts.

Once he was finished, he looked up and met your gaze—sharp, pointed. And then he reached back out and smeared the birds into nothing and shook his head, firm. His red lips moved slowly, exaggerated, again and again. And you could make out the vague shape of words you’d had shouted at you a hundred times over.

‘Not safe.’

That same, shivery, nervous feeling bit at your limbs.

“…okay,” you said after a moment. And then leaned forward to dig your own fingers into the sand, dutifully ignoring how your elbows knocked against his own.

‘Not safe,’ you wrote, and watched his eyes trace each letter like a treasure map.

There was another tap at your shoulder. And then he pointed to the words in the muck, then to himself.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, yes. You’re not safe either.”

He sighed dramatically enough to ruffle the ends of your still soaked hair. And then pointed to the words again, tapping at the ‘N’ with the curved tip of a claw.

“Nnnn?” you mouthed, confused.

He moved to the ‘o’ next and it clicked.

“You want me to teach you how to read my letters?” you asked, flabbergasted. Another sigh, like you’d dropped the weight of all the world on his pale shoulders. Or perhaps that your idiocy was enough to put that hearty mass to shame. You decided that you were still feeling a bit too much like you’d only just barely escaped a brush with death, dismemberment, and dinner plans to push your luck with sassing him back too harshly, and just blinked owlishly in dazed surprise. “But why?”

His purple eyes trailed in the direction of the shipwreck and something cutting and poisonous clouded his expression. He pointed to the words again.

‘Not safe.’

“Alright,” you said, looking out over the water with a strange sort of sinking feeling in your gut. You leaned forward and began to draw the alphabet at your feet. His tail twitched by your fingers and you ignored the soft brush of his still-healing fins. “This one’s an ‘A’, like in ‘Asshole’—"

Whomp went the tail as he cracked it across your knuckles like a school matron with a ruler. And you couldn’t help the startled burst of genuine, tinkling laughter that bubbled past your lips for the first time since you’d been dragged overboard.

.

.

[TAG LIST - CLOSED]

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[writethrough]

Vigilance

(Vessel x Gender-Neutral Reader)

Synopsis: Vessel contemplates what you mean to him while you're laying together.

Warnings: Maybe a little self-deprecation on Vessel's part, but besides that...?

Word Count: 599

A/N: This one really came out of nowhere. The first half is part of this dream I had, then I filled in the ending. Short, kinda fluffy, but in a serious way. If you've read "Sun Daze," "Morning Blue," or "Found You," it's that vibe.

You felt his presence before you were truly conscious. Sitting on the edge of your bed, he watched you. You’d gotten used to it by now. It was reassuring. His constant vigilance—a protective bubble that embraced you. 

His nimble fingers grazed your side, trailing to the small of your back. “Rest, my love.” 

Humming, your eyes remained closed, enjoying his feather-light touches. You had shoved the blankets off you in your sleep and were rewarded when his skin caressed yours. 

The bed shifted, then his lips brushed the side of your head.  

“Lay with me?” Though it escaped as a statement, you meant it as a question. One you knew he’d never refuse. 

He slipped behind you, one arm sliding beneath your head, and the other around your middle. You threaded your fingers through both of his hands, needing to be as close to him as possible. With his exposed chest pressed against your back, you relaxed into him, head resting in the crook of his shoulder. 

This was your safe place. Nestled in his hold where no one else existed.  

You took in every part that connected to him and wished you could stay like this forever. 

“Ease now, beloved. I am with you.” He pressed his mouth to your shoulder, lingering to feel more of your skin.  

He would stay like this until you woke next. Until you had to move. Until you indicate otherwise. He would remain.  

He could not follow you into blissful unconscious, but this almost seemed better. The trust you put in him, the way you let him embrace you, how openly you received every part of him—he witnessed it all in these moments. As you drifted, your walls receded. He saw you for who you were and vowed himself to you. Even if you didn’t know the extent of his allegiance to you, it didn’t matter. You belonged to one another. He would ensure your happiness, your safety, your peace—because they were his own.  

The scent of your hair enveloped him. You were home to him. He could not determine the last time he had a home, but the word was fitting. In all his travels, in all his life, he had glimpses of reprieve, but with you he had gained more than that. You had given him more than he ever had in the centuries before you. And for that he owed you his existence. 

Every time he looked at you, spoke to you, touched you, was like the first. You did not want anything from him—like so many others—you simply wanted him. So, he gave you all, every piece of darkness within himself, every memory from before, every task he was given, because he wanted to make sure. Was this what you wanted? Was he what you wanted? 

In response, you showed him all of you. Your regrets and failures, your hopes and dreams, your fears—and they were beautiful. You were...everything. 

For that, he had pledged to be yours. He had proclaimed his love, and you returned it.  

So, he would remain by your side, in every sense of the word. In ways he could not explain. 

He matched his breathing to yours, steady and deep. Once your fingers had slackened, he curled his a little more to keep you connected. And his eyes closed, letting your skin warm his and your scent fill him. 

This was as close as he could follow you, but it was enough. You were with him. This was all he needed. His greatest treasure. His love. His meaning.  

Taglist: @steph-speaks, @themultiverseofmars

Let me know if you want to be tagged in future fics!

[jennifer-jeong]

[Fluff + Mild Angst] [JJK Men x Reader] What Made Them Fall For You?

Itadori Yuji, Fushiguro Megumi, Gojo Satoru

CONTENT

Headcanons on what makes the JJK pookies fall for you <3 NOT SPOILER FREE (includes manga and anime spoilers), fluff, gender neutral reader, men falling for reader, reader is a sorcerer, CHARACTERS ARE 18+

AUTHOUR NOTES

YOU ALREADY KNOW WHAT TIME IT ISSS Yes I’m back with this prompt because I love it so much and it basically summarizes my little daydream storylines I have in my mind about each character. Also note that I’m not caught up on the manga (but I do know all the spoilers hehe) so I apologize if any of this is inaccurate! (Yes I believe Gojo’s coming back so please pretend like the angst in his part isn’t alluding to his death being permanent. His body was successfully recovered and I’m coping with that fact)

ITADORI YUJI

I think Yuji would start to fall for you because when you first learned about Sukuna and Yuji being his vessel, you swore right then and there that you’d beat Sukuna’s ass and save Yuji. He was shocked at first because while that is the plan, no one had ever said it out loud to him like you did, and no one specifically ever said “I’ll save you.” He didn’t take it in a romantic sense but ever since you said it, he’s been getting closer and closer with you. You two always have a great time together and Sukuna never fails to make Yuji flustered by popping out and saying some random vulgar or violent jumble of words.

Yuji enjoys the lightheartedness you bring into his life, it’s refreshing like a spring breeze. It’s been much needed in his life recently and he appreciates your unplanned but good timing. He doesn’t like to worry people with his emotions because he’s such a genuine ray of sunshine. But, he will tell you about them when he finally breaks from time to time because he knows you’ll coax it out of him anyways. He tells you about his childhood and his grandpa and it breaks your heart that he sounds so content with his simple life despite barely having anyone close to him. You tell him that he’s so loved by everyone around him and he thanks you. It’s just that his death is constantly looming over his head and he has no idea what’s in store for him or his new loved ones. He wants to save everyone so badly and sometimes forgets about himself. That’s why he’ll never forget your promise to save him. He trusts that if he loses himself in some sort of sacrifice, that you’ll somehow rescue him. And that’s also why he’ll never break his silent promise to protect you for as long as he lives.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

I think Megumi would start to fall for you because of the care you put into everything you do, especially in how you treat others. You never fail to notice and treat your allies' wounds, even when they’re convincingly pretending like they’re fine. You always prioritize civilians during missions. You haven’t missed how his shikigami all have different personalities and different places they like to be pet. And you never miss it if Megumi’s feeling upset, you can somehow just tell by looking at him, even when others think he just looks mad like usual. Megumi knows your care for the little things is just how you express your desire to help others. The two of you mirror each other in that way. Megumi is the epitome of sacrificing oneself to protect their allies and it makes him smile when you mention that to him because he knows you’re exactly like him in that sense.

Megumi feels so relaxed around you because you just seem to understand him without needing him to explain. He’s gotten used to bottling everything up since he was young. He’s been forced to be an adult since he was a kid, understanding things that children shouldn’t even know about. It���s made his life feel cold, devoid of the warmth a child typically receives in their youth. He’s felt betrayed by all parental figures, his dad, his mom, and his step-mom. Even though Satoru tried his best and Megumi appreciates him, he couldn’t fully repair what he didn’t break. Megumi only really had his sister Tsumiki, but now even she’s unreachable and cursed. His life has warmed up slightly as he’s got found family now, but it’s really only you that makes the burning sun shine like it should in his life. As a sorcerer, he’s always worried that more lives will be taken from around him, especially yours. But he likes to joke and think that with the two of you constantly sacrificing yourselves for the other and getting stronger, you might just be okay.

GOJO SATORU

I think Satoru would start to fall for you because you don’t treat him like “the strongest,” you treat him like he’s human, like he’s just Satoru. Satoru has always faked a smile and you’ve always been able to figure him out. He’s been through so much and always struggled to make meaningful connections because of his powers. His family putting immense pressure on him as a child definitely didn’t help his emotional state either. He’s been so lonely his whole life and just as he starts to create a found family with his friends, he loses them. He doesn’t know what to do other than smile to make sure that those that are still alive don’t worry about him. But you see straight through him, you always have, and it comforts him. You’re the same age as him so you’ve been through it all with him since he started at jujutsu high. He started to fall for you at the start because even before all the additional trauma, you already wiggled your way past his emotional walls. He was always clearly too excited to see his friends, had so much love to give, and hated being alone. You thought it was obvious that he was hiding something and you approached him, asking if he was ok and if he wanted to talk about it. At first, he just laughed it off but as the months passed and your friendship grew, the more and more comfortable he was with telling you about his struggles.

Even now, you’re the only person he confides in about everything. You’ve always helped him back onto his feet after the world knocks him down. He might be the strongest sorcerer in the world, or maybe ever. But in his world, he’s never actually been stronger than you, you’re always the one helping him up anyways. He loves that you don’t treat him like most do. You’ve never catered to him or let up on lecturing him just because he’s strong. Additionally, you also never failed to make sure he felt loved, because you always knew that he was still just a kid on the inside that was forced to grow up too fast. Satoru fell for you willingly but has held off on confessing to you because he’s too scared to indulge himself while there’s still danger in the world. He wants to make the world safer for you, whether he’s there to see it with you or not. But he’s pretty sure he will, he is “the strongest” after all.

Thank you for reading!

|| MASTERLIST <3 ||

[bored-writer101]

{Castiel X Reader} My Angel

A/N: this came to me in a dream and i had to write it. sorry for being kinda inactive :( writers block be a bitch. but i hope you guys enjoy this one shot i was finally able to write! :] (gender neutral reader)

Warnings: reader gets kidnapped but angels, castiel unalives them

Summary: You had fallen right into their trap. The angels were using you as bait to get Castiel. They made the mistake of underestimating him.

Words: 1009

(not my gif)

"Castiel!"

Your scream bounced around the skull of his vessel like a ricocheting bullet. He abruptly stood from the chair he had been sitting in. The sudden movement caused Sam and Dean to look over at their angel friend. They eyed him curiously.

"You alright, man?" Dean asked, but before he could receive an answer, Castiel disappeared with a woosh of his wings. Dean turned to his brother. "What the hell was his problem?" Sam shrugged in response before looking back at his computer screen.

'Angels... Why did it have to be angels?' you thought.

You had fallen right into their trap. They wanted you to get to Castiel. Unfortunately for them, they were going to get just what they wanted.

"Castiel!" you called out for him again, and the angel in front of you laughed before smacking you across the face.

"Shut up. You already did your job."

The single lightbulb above your head suddenly popped, sinking the room into darkness. You heard shuffling footsteps before the sounds of punches landing. A few more moments of fighting before you heard the squish of a blade stabbing into flesh. A few feet away, three lights slowly emitted from the darkness. You could see a brief glimpse of the rage in Castiel's eyes as the angel died. You squeezed your eyes shut and turned away once it was too bright to bear.

Then it was silent. All you could hear was the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. The smell of blood wafted through the air. You sucked in a breath and held it. You heard footsteps come over to you and around to stand behind you. You felt hands tugging at the ropes that were tied around your wrists. You were still terrified even though you knew who it was.

"Castiel?" you asked, your voice wavering.

"I'm here," he said as he finally got the ropes untied.

You brought your hands into your lap and rubbed your sore wrists. Castiel rounded the chair you were sitting in. You heard shuffling as he knelt down in front of you. Your eyes were slowly adjusting in the dark. He reached out and gently held your hands in his. He rubbed his thumb over your knuckles in an attempt to calm you down.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, reaching up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I-I don't know."

"It's alright. I'm going to make it all better," he said softly.

You felt two fingers press against your forehead. "Castiel, wait!" you reached up to grab his wrist and try to pull his hand away, but it was already too late.

You could feel the ache in your muscles subsiding. The tingling on your cheek from where the other angel had slapped you was gone. You could breathe evenly again. You pulled Castiel's hand down, and he let you; you were already healed. You could see a faint smile on his face through the darkness.

"I'm sorry-" he cut you off quick.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. This isn't your fault," he reassured you.

"I fell right into their trap. I should have seen it coming!" you insisted. "And your grace..." you added sadly.

"It doesn't matter. What matters now is that you're safe," he said as he cupped the side of your face.

You leaned into his touch. Your eyes fluttered close, but it wasn't much difference to the darkness that surrounded you.

"Let's get out of here," Castiel said.

His trench coat rustled as he stood. He held both your hands, and you knew what was coming next. Usually you'd protest him teleporting you, but you just wanted to be out of that room. You squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for teleport and for the incessant questions you were sure to get from Sam and Dean. With a quiet whoosh of Castiel's wings, the two of you were out of that stuffy room.

You were surprised to smell fresh air. You shivered as the wind blew over you. You opened your eyes, and you're a bit disoriented when you realized you were standing. You stumbled on your shaky feet. Castiel was quick to place his hands around your waist to keep you upright. You put your hands on his shoulders for leverage as you tried to force your legs to work.

"I'm sorry. I thought you'd want to come back to the bunker instead of..." his voice trailed off.

"It's alright. I actually would rather be here. It's just, next time have me stand up beforehand," you said as you finally managed to regain your balance.

"My apologies. I'll remember that for next time."

"It's okay," you said with a chuckle, "Thank you for the rescue. I don't know what I'd do without my angel," you added.

You noticed the way his head cocked to the side at 'my angel.' You didn't even mean to say it, it just sort of came out. You hoping he doesn't acknowledge it.

"Your angel?" his pleased smile says he's not annoyed, but you can't help the embarrassment that burns your cheeks.

"S-Sorry, I didn't mean-" he cut you off before you could dig yourself into a hole with your rambling.

"I'd be your angel forever if you asked me to," he said smoothly.

Your jaw dropped open slightly at his words. He leaned in and kissed your cheek. You're sure he can feel the warmth against his lips. You closed your eyes when he kissed you, and you heard the flap of wings. Your hair was jostled by the gust of air. You opened your eyes to find him gone. You're left with your skin tingling with the rush of almost getting killed and then getting rescued by the angel you've had a crush on since you met him. You brought your hand up and gently touched the spot where his lips had kissed you. The next time the two of you were alone, you were definitely taking him up on his offer.

[mrshesh]

Omg hi!! So happy to see someone writing for mk. Is it alright to request (gender neutral) reader doing flirty intros with fujin and kung lao? Or maybe noob!

intros with fujin, kung lao & noob saibot - flirty edition!

overview: intros the reader could have with fujin, kung lao & noob saibot - flirty edition!

pairing: fujin, kung lao & noob saibot x gender neutral reader, romantic

genre: fluff, spice, slight angst

a/n: hey anon! of course! i had a blast writing this! thanks for the request. i hope you love it! (someone needs to catch the oppenheimer reference i snuck in here.)

x fujin

(Y/N): How’s the braid?

Fujin: You did a great job on it.

(Y/N): Can I become your braider from now on?

(Y/N): What’s it like being a demigod?

Fujin: Sometimes, I wish I could lead a simple life… with you. 

(Y/N): Your purpose is greater than that, Fujin. 

Fujin: I never thought I��d feel this way for anybody.

(Y/N): It hurts, doesn’t it?

Fujin: Like the wind, I must keep flying away, but I will always pass by you. 

(Y/N): You almost seem like a mortal to me. 

Fujin: How so?

(Y/N): Cause you’re bearable, unlike Raiden. 

Fujin: Your eyes are captivating, Y/N.

(Y/N): Have you seen yours?

Fujin: I guess they are pretty bright, aren’t they?

(Y/N): What’s it like to fly?

Fujin: A breath of fresh air. 

(Y/N): If I win this, you’re taking me flying. 

(Y/N): I can’t imagine the weight of the responsibilities you carry. 

Fujin: I certainly have a lot of people to protect. 

(Y/N): You protect them, and I’ll protect you.

Fujin: You’re strong and capable. 

(Y/N): Much like yourself. 

Fujin: Yet I’m not powerful enough to quit yearning for you. 

(Y/N): Could you blow a gust of wind my way? I’m sweating. 

Fujin: What’s got you so clammy?

(Y/N): Being around you. 

(Y/N): I wanna be as cool as you someday.

Fujin: You have a lot to learn, Y/N.

(Y/N): I bet you could teach me.

Fujin: You mean a lot to me. 

(Y/N): Not enough, by the looks of it. 

Fujin: You could learn something by doing this.

x kung lao

(Y/N): You’ve got an impressive physique. 

Kung Lao: Tell me something I don’t know.

(Y/N): Not even a ‘thank you’?

Kung Lao: Does this count as our first date?

(Y/N): Do you see me kicking your ass as a date?

Kung Lao: Bold of you to think you’re gonna win.

(This is based on an intro in the MK11 game!)

Kung Lao: Double date with Liu Kang and Kitana?

(Y/N): I’d rather just go with you. 

Kung Lao: You know I could never deny you that. 

(Y/N): Don’t get ahead of yourself, Kung Lao.

Kung Lao: I’m beating that prank, just wait!

(Y/N): Just admit that I’m the better prankster. 

(Y/N): C’mon, quit frowning so much!

Kung Lao: You like my smile that much?

(Y/N): And your dimples. 

Kung Lao: You need to know your worth.

(Y/N): That means a lot coming from Mr. Cocky himself. 

Kung Lao: My cockiness is justified. 

(Y/N): Don’t go easy on me!

Kung Lao: I won’t - I see what you’re made of.

(Y/N): So you’re admitting I’m winning?

Kung Lao: C’mon, sweetheart, you know you want me.

(Y/N): This is the fifth time you’ve asked this week. 

Kung Lao: Not one date?

Kung Lao: Well, you look stunning.

(Y/N): You don’t look so bad, yourself. 

Kung Lao: We are one good-looking duo. 

x noob saibot

(Y/N): I don’t think you’re all that evil. 

Noob Saibot: Think again, Y/N.

(Y/N): I see you, Bi-Han. 

Noob Saibot: Join me in the Netherrealm. 

(Y/N): You’re too weak to kill me.

Noob Saibot: You will be beside me eventually.

Noob Saibot: Death has no allies.

(Y/N): You don’t scare me.

Noob Saibot: You know I do, Y/N.

(Y/N): It’s painful to see you like this. 

Noob Saibot: Now that I’m more powerful than ever?

(Y/N): Now that you’re heartless.

(Y/N): You’ve become a vessel of yourself. 

Noob Saibot: I have become death himself. 

(Y/N): Bi-Han isn’t “death himself.”

Noob Saibot: I felt something for you.

(Y/N): Felt?

Noob Saibot: Death doesn’t feel. 

Noob Saibot: Your soul is the one I want the most. 

(Y/N): As long as you’re like this - you’re not getting it.

Noob Saibot: Dare deny your precious Bi-Han?

Noob Saibot: I used to feel.

(Y/N): I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.

Noob Saibot: You’re the only one I felt something for.

(Y/N): What is it you want, Bi-Han?

Noob Saibot: I want your soul.

(Y/N): Even when you’re dead, you want me.

[nahoney22]

❛  i would like to know what i can do to help.  ❜ with tech and a gn!reader please from the comfort fluff prompts? ☺️ I suffer from bad migraines quite often and I feel like this prompt is so tech coded? Established relationship or not up to you. Cheers! Congrats on 4k 😊

4000 Follower Prompt Celebration

Tech X GN!Reader

word count: 1.1k

prompt:

• “I would like to know what I can do to help.”

When Tech notices you in pain one day, he feels obliged to help you in anyway he can in order to ease your migraines.

warnings: Fluff, little bit of flirting, mutual pining, gender neutral reader has migraines, lots of comfort.

authors note: This was a sweet prompt! Thank you and enjoy ☀️

As you and Tech were carefully maneuvering a heavy crate, a sudden wave of agony seized your head, forcing you to drop your side of the crate, the tools clattering loudly. Startled, Tech turned to face you, his expression shifting to one of concern as he observed you grimacing and clutching the side of your head, the pain evident on your features.

"Are you alright?" Tech inquired, his voice laced with worry as he noticed your discomfort.

"Just a sudden headache," you managed to reply through clenched teeth, attempting to straighten up despite the throbbing ache. "Maker, it’s really intense."

Frowning with concern, Tech set down his side of the crate and moved closer to you. He reached out to gently touch your head, his brows furrowing as he assessed the situation. "Have you recently experienced any head trauma?"

"Not that I can recall," you confessed, allowing Tech to offer his assistance. Suddenly, a shiver ran down your spine, and you couldn't shake the feeling of coldness enveloping you. "Is it getting colder, or is it just me?"

Tech paused, considering your words. "Given that we're on Tatooine, known for its scorching heat, it's unlikely to be a change in temperature."

Guiding you inside the ship, Tech urged you to take a seat in the pilot's chair while he prepared to run some tests. The pain persisted, each pulse of pain accompanied by a heightened sensitivity to light that made even keeping your eyes open an excruciating ordeal.

"I think it might be a migraine, Tech," you voiced your suspicion, another symptom emerging as you began to feel clammy, a sensation you recognized from past experiences.

"I believe you might be right," Tech concurred, swiftly analysing your condition. "I will take you to the nearest medical clinic immediately."

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head vehemently. Despite the pain, you were reluctant to waste time seeking medical attention. "No, Tech, I just need rest," you reassured, rising to your feet with a slight wobble. Tech instinctively moved to support you, his arm encircling your waist.

"Well, if you insist," Tech relented, knowing it was futile to argue with your determination. "But if your symptoms worsen, we will seek further medical assistance."

You chuckled softly, though it was accompanied by a wince of pain. "That's fine with me," you sighed, leaning into him for support.

"I would like to know what I can do to help," Tech offered, his concern evident in his voice.

You're grateful for Tech's presence by your side. It had been years since you last experienced a migraine of this intensity, and facing it alone was not something you relished. With someone as caring as Tech by your side, you felt reassured that you were in good hands.

"I'm going to close my eyes... the ship is too bright," you remarked, finding it ironic considering the usual dimness of the vessel. Even the faintest glimmer of light seemed to exacerbate your condition. "Can you guide me to the bunks?"

"Of course," Tech responded, his arm still providing support while his free hand reached out for you to grasp onto. Together, you navigated through the ship, Tech carefully ensuring you didn't stumble over any discarded equipment. "You may rest in my bunk."

"At least buy me lunch first," you teased with a smirk, noticing how Tech tensed beside you at your playful remark.

"P-Perhaps when you are feeling better," he stammered, his response not escaping your notice, silently surprising you with his reaction. But with a shared understanding, you both focused on the task at hand – getting you settled into his bunk. With Tech's gentle guidance, you found yourself sitting on the bunk, your eyes still closed against the pain.

"Stay here, and I'll fetch you some water and check the medkit for something to ease the pain," Tech instructed before you heard the sound of his retreating footsteps. Taking a moment to make yourself comfortable, you kick off your boots and carefully lay back, the persistent throb at the side of your head making your teeth clench.

When Tech returned, he informed you, "I have taken the liberty of dimming all the ship's lights, so if you feel comfortable enough to open your eyes, go ahead." Hesitant but trusting him, you slowly opened your eyes, relieved to find the lighting just right – not too bright to strain your eyes but enough to see without worsening your migraine.

"This sucks," you sighed, feeling guilty for inconveniencing Tech and taking him away from his duties to assist you. "I'm sorry."

"I am unsure as to why you are apologising," he replied, his attention focused on rummaging through the medkit before presenting a stim. "You are feeling unwell, and therefore, as a teammate, I should ensure you are as comfortable before anything else."

You turned your head to face him as he crouched down beside you, his gentle hold on your arm signaling his readiness to administer the stim that would hopefully alleviate some of your discomfort and aid in inducing sleep. "So if this were one of your brothers, you would act the same? Give them your bunk?" you inquired, raising a brow ever so slightly as you observed his reaction.

"Well, perhaps not exactly as I have with you, no," he admitted, clearing his throat as he briefly averted his gaze as he prepared to administer the stim. After a moment's pause, he proceeded to give you the medication, his demeanor slightly awkward yet caring.

"I'm just teasing you, Tech," you reassured softly, offering him a smile of gratitude.

"That is very gratifying to hear, I must admit," he replied, returning your smile. For a moment, you both shared a meaningful gaze, as if conveying unspoken sentiments. It felt intimate, a connection that neither of you knew how to put into words. However, the moment was fleeting as another wave of pain washed over you, causing you to close your eyes and look away.

"Here," Tech said gently, scooping his arm under your back to lift you just enough for a quick sip of water before easing you back down. "It's time for you to get some rest."

You nodded in agreement, silently thanking him for the water. "Good idea. Thank you, Tech," you whispered softly as you pulled his blanket over yourself, reveling in the familiar scent that enveloped you. "Your sheets smell of you."

Though you couldn't see it, his eyes briefly widened at your remark. "I am hoping that is a good thing."

"It is," you confirmed with a small chuckle, "you smell nice."

Tech settled beside you, maintaining a watchful presence until sleep finally claimed you, ensuring that you could rest undisturbed and free from pain. His unwavering care and attention provided a sense of comfort as you drifted off, hoping you know that if you need him, he will always be there.

Masterlist

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[sleepingdeath-light]

relationship hcs ; pure vessel / the hollow knight

requested by ; anonymous (23/05/23) & xxrainmxx (23/05/23)

fandom(s) ; hollow knight

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; pure vessel / the hollow knight

outline ; “Pure Vessel/The Hollow Knight dating and smut hcs (separate) twirls hair”

&

“I read the announcement and I came to leave my humble request, if it's not too much trouble, can I request sfw and nsfw headcanons for pure vasel or the hollow knight as you feel better writing it?”

warning(s) ; canon-typical angst, animalistic behaviours

note ; first time writing for this fandom so this may be a tad shaky — may be rewritten in the future when i have a better grasp on this character

you probably knew of them before they knew you, hearing rumours around the castle and whispered amongst the nest that the pale king and the white lady were had children

but with the vessel’s intensive training and status as the, well, perfect vessel for the the infection they didn’t really have much of a chance to explore hollow nest

your first meeting likely happened after the pale king abandoned them, after they became infected and it was realised that their attachment to their father was present and detrimental to their purpose

and then they met you and you became something of an emotional crutch

they spend most of their time within the pantheon of knights, training and waiting with you by their side — watching hero after hero fall before those that come before them

occasionally they’ll pull off a particularly impressive stunt or move during training or battle in order to impress you — looking to you and you swear that you can see their eyes brighten when they see you smiling and clapping for them

they don’t speak so much as they sign to you — not using any formal language but more so a system of your own design to help them communicate with you

they divulge their fears to you, their concerns about the infection and how they’re not sure how much time they have left

that they constantly feel like their shell is going to split and they’ll be gone and that the rest of hallownest will fall to what follows

they urge you to run away from the nest, to stay away from them, because they don’t want to risk you getting hurt

but you don’t because you love them and you tell them as much: shushing them, holding them and reassuring them as best you can

as only you can

you’re the only one who gets to see them be vulnerable and, in their eyes, weak

you’re the only thing they hold dear and they’re very insistent on showing you all of the courtesy and chivalry they observed during their time with their parents

they’ll offer you their armour and underclothes to keep you warm, carry you when you’re weary and always offer you their hand or arm when you’re travelling somewhere

affection with them usually consists of the following: side hugs, them holding you from behind as you sit on their lap, nudging or nuzzling their face plate against you and hand holding

the face smashing is the closest they can get to kissing you and tends to happen when they’re particularly happy

they’re incredibly protective and even in the heat of battle, they’re always keeping an eye on you to make sure that no projectiles (theirs or their opponents) come near you — going into a rage if the other party harms you in any way

your life isn’t easy but it’s calm and pleasant, filled with deep conversations and trust and someone who loves you with everything they have in them

who would give anything in the world to make you smile

who cares for you before themselves even as their face plate splits open and they start to lose themselves to the infection

as they stop being the pure vessel and become the hollow knight

but even as their mind and body came under the control of the radiance, their affection for you still remained clear

they were still just as protective, leaping out of fights just to keep you out of line of sight (and line of weapon)

they were still just as needy for your attention, bumping their cracked face against your hand and cheek and chest and letting out a contented sound (something between a hum and a purr) when you complied and were affectionate with them

they were still just as desperate for your approval, seeking you out after a particularly gruelling battle with another inhabitant of hollow nest — puffing their chest out and awaiting your praise

still considerate and chivalrous in their own way: picking you up and carrying you gingerly as they made their way around their old home; covering you with their cape and their body whenever you gave even the slightest indication of being cold; growling and roaring and lunging at anyone or anything that causes you harm

the hollow knight tries not to hurt you, the part of the vessel that remains wouldn’t allow it, but sometimes it can’t be avoided and you may end up getting nicked or scratched by one of their weapons, their shattered face plate or something else

whenever this happens they tend to look like a locked puppy and start whining and panicking and trying to clean and cover your wound

they tend to hang off of you when you idle and rest, lanky body almost curled around your shoulders and long arms wrapped tightly around your waist

they will lean into any touches you give them, especially if you’re gently caressing their face or horns

if ever you crave something, they’ll immediately go out to retrieve it — to varying degrees of success depending on how well the radiance controlling them recognises what you’re talking about

they avoid doing anything to pass on their infection to you as they don’t want you to get sick or be harmed — which is something the small remnants of their consciousness has to fight with the radiance about

they’re incredibly possessive and territorial and will be able to track you down if they lose track of you — there’s no escape

if they can’t find you or track your scent, then they will become frantic and volatile, attacking anything in reach in order to get you back