I hope this goes along with the sleepover if not just iiggnore loool :') oookk hear me out LA Squadra who is more likely to date(or more so tolerate) a s/o with adhd. XD
I mean a partner bouncing off the walls and bouncing off their bal- ...im sorry... I shall see myself out now...
HAHA tbh I think all of them could handle it :p it’s all about how you interact with em specifically buuuut (also im grabbing you by the scruff yr not leaving, i would so do a La Squadra libido post)
<𝟑 .ᐟThey probably have ADHD too don’t worry
You and Pesci are just the same, so it’s a miracle anything gets done. Similar to Formaggio, you’re cutting each other off and darting back and forth between places of interest, glancing back at each other in a panic and hoping you’re not forgetting something. He may suggest figuring out a mutual system: he doesn’t want to be a burden, or have you feel you may be one either.
Formaggio is able to match your energy levels the closest, though still bemused at any ways in which you surpass him. He doesn’t fixate on anything, but I could see him as more inattentive type: you may each be cutting each other off and then forgetting the topic of conversation you each started on. Laugh about it with him: lots of other stuff to take seriously, by any means.
If you’re bouncing off the walls, Melone joins you briefly before settling back down and observing you lovingly. One of the more energetic of the bunch, and he has endless patience from dealing with…. Kids. He could easily find some treatment plan if you were interested, but if not, he’ll listen to your rambles and remind you of anything that slips your mind. Admittedly, he may enjoy you relying on him a little too much sometimes.
Risotto is the epitome of patience, but it’s a patience that relies on (at the very least) your attempt to follow his instructions. As long as things are done, he doesn’t mind any shortcuts or diversions. Lets you bounce around and exhaust yourself, looking at you plainly while you detail for the fifteenth time your current fixation. He could get a little irritable having to remind you of things on occasion but it’s more symptomatic of how stressed he is rather than you bothering him.
Oddly Prosciutto can tolerate it well. He’s used to Pesci’s drabble and distractibility so he may take a more “focus dammit” approach, but it’s well intended. As long as it’s not during a mission too, he can sit and listen to you talk for as long as you want about a fixation or subject on your mind. Looks at you kind of intensely during, but his silent hope is his focus on you will help you do the same. During a mission, especially if you tease him, he shuts it down ASAP.
Illuso isn’t the best at handling it, just because he’s a bit self centered so he struggles to deal when you can’t acquiesce to what he’s asking. Less so that he hates your energy. Especially on the job, if you mix that with some sadism, he’s right there with you. But in your off time he’ll let you exhaust yourself and all but ignore you. Maybe this time you’ll learn (you won’t) but regardless he will sigh and drag you to bed after a while.
Ghiaccio admittedly doesn’t handle it well, I’m afraid. Not that behaviors like forgetting things or distractibility are unique to you, he’s dealt with the others— not the best, but unless it becomes an issue on a mission he just “tch”s and rolls his eyes. But if you are the type to dance around difficult or time consuming tasks, he does them himself and snaps at you for delaying them. Decent listener though when you wanna talk about a fixation.
<𝟑 .ᐟ Needs to get out of their own damn head about it
<𝟑 .ᐟ like this post? check the rules here for sleepover event <3
Wait omg can i get the la squadra version of that one??? Or is that too much i hope im not sending too many requests!
🦹♂️
not at all! I have one more immediate one and then a friend sent in 3 so i will make a few quick posts :)
<𝟑 .ᐟ Sleep Conversationalist
Formaggio snores like a motherfucker. He doesn’t speak at all, not coherently, but he genuinely could use some sleep apnea treatment. The cause of several arguments, only for you to record him for proof and those times he’s almost dead silent. Has trapped you with his arm in place for a loud, sleepless night. Refuses to say it’s on purpose. But if it’s clear he’s having a nightmares terror it’s better to be his teddy bear.
I can’t get past the idea of Pesci kind of snuffling like a puppy in his sleep (blaming it on the folds of flesh around his chin and twice broken nose). He will make out some sentences where half the words are audible, often “Prosciutto”, “Risotto”, your name, and snores just a hair. It’s nowhere near as unbearable as Formaggio though and he apologizes. Actually does look into sleep apnea stuff at your and Prosciutto’s suggestion and happily snuggles you, much quieter, when you rest after.
Prosciutto can and does make out full sentences in his sleep. “Formaggio, if you do that again I’ll cut your dick off.” When you’re standing in the doorway with a cup of water or tea, mouth agape. He doesn’t remember what Formaggio did in his dream. But he doesn’t snore, at least not horrifically; despite his smoking habit, Pesci really does hate the smell so the repercussions aren’t as bad as they could be, for his lungs. Nightmares make him seize and pant a little, speaking through gritted teeth. You have to be extra careful retrieving him from them.
Perhaps he really just needs his beauty sleep. Ghiaccio has likely gotten out whatever it is that has bothered him during the day— and there’s a lot that can do that to him— and he’s only saying your name, targets’ names, and occasionally a curse or two, nose twitching, no snores. Rarely gets nightmares either, his arm slung across your chest. He’ll remember things in the morning, and barks at you to shut up when you laugh about Illuso eating the cookie version of him in a weird dream.
Melone has a soft snore and a murmur, never loud enough to rouse you but enough that if you’re awake and he isn’t (extremely rare occasion) you have to look over and make sure he wasn’t talking to you. Dreamy look on his face when he’s asleep. He sounds almost like a white noise machine, so he’s actually very pleasant to sleep next to even just platonically. Rarely thrashes or moves. It’s kind of annoying how easy he is to sleep with.
Deathly quiet during the day, perhaps that’s why the leader of the team, Risotto, lets out just a little bit at night. Doesn’t snore, but can occasionally let out a command so clearly that you jump. “Don’t sit there.” Where? On your bed? He won’t reply. Nightmares make him seize, trembling, wheezing breaths that you have to carefully ride out and wake him from. When you ask, if he remembers (it’s 50/50), he’ll explain softly, in his trademark sparse manner.
It’s expected that Risotto would be the quietest, but I’d posit it’s Illuso. He yammers all day, so that when it’s time to go to bed, he’s mostly gotten it out of his system. Mouths things in his sleep, maybe murmurs them. Light snorer, especially when his allergies act up in the fall and spring. He will deny it to hell and back, but if he’s having nightmares, hold him until the whimpering stops.
<𝟑 .ᐟ DEAD Silent
<𝟑 .ᐟ like this post? check the rules here for sleepover event <3
Green dolphin inmate crew x the most playful/teasing during sex! An idea I’ve been thinking abt for a while then I saw ur event lol
aaaaaa i love these guys i could do SO MUCH W THEM TBH
*nsfw warning
<𝟑 .ᐟ Serious as the grave, unless you prefer otherwise
Weather can be playful, especially with his memories back, but he likes to be reverent with your body. Gentle. Adoring. These actions are reserved for you, and he prioritizes your pleasure above all else. Though he isn’t above kissing all around your inner thighs before going in for the kill, so to speak. Firmly holds you in place for himself, his to please, to worship, and he’ll be damned before you think he isn’t taking you seriously.
FF is completely new to this even when Atroe’s body keeps the score. You need to be equally gentle with each other, letting her laugh at the strange parts, but also blush when she’s confused. She isn’t teasing per se, rather, curious, and observes every interaction, every inch of your pleasure. She holds you with the hesitance of the virgin she is, but she’s quite the fast learner. Don’t patronize her, if you’ve gotten this far.
He doesn’t do this with just ANYONE. Anasui is a tease purely for you, arms wrapped around you from behind as they pinch each soft, sensitive part of your body, those that he knows make you unravel in an instant. Meanly precise. Too much so. Bites into your shoulder and neck, sucking cute little marks in and humming about how much prettier you look when you’re his. That could mean anything though, and your heart flutters when he pushes his hand in your underwear.
Though she can come off as goading outside the bedroom, Hermes can be oddly serious when she lays you down sometimes. Not opposed to making a wisecrack at your expense, or keeping you teetering on the edge of your orgasm for what feels like years— but prefers to whisper softly in your ear, as her hand dips between your thighs, kissing along your neck. If you play along, all the better. She wants you to enjoy this, and your moans and breathy words keep her going.
Jolyne isn’t goofy, but she won’t be perturbed by hiccups the way I’d say Weather (especially w/o memories) would be. Laughs into your mouth as she kisses you, pressing you back, grabbing your thighs to pull you closer to her and tracing nonsense patterns alongside them. She’s still analytic. Green eyes following your every twitch, she would dare you to chase your own pleasure by her hands, making you crave her, beg her to continue.
<𝟑 .ᐟ Sex is only as fun as you make it, give them a chance to show you
<𝟑 .ᐟ like this post? check the rules here for sleepover event <3
Hiya! Ask for the sleepover event. Diavolo's Royal Guard(aka Unita Speciale) + Most likely to get famous on Tumblr and for what(modern AU)
BWAHAHAHA this is really funny to me sorry Ive been on this godforsaken site since 2014 and i still dont know how to use it
<𝟑 .ᐟ Over 10k Followers (do you really want that tho?)
Cioccolata and Secco are the most famous because Cioccolata let Secco have the account password and Secco posts about their weird relationship any chance he gets. He reblogs a lot more than he actually posts, but Cioccolata is the one who makes actual posts where he’s way too casual about anatomy and how slasher aesthetic stuff isn’t realistic. Reminds me of the graverobbing scandal. They have a lot of hate blogs that they engage with (Secco wants to but Cioccolata actually writes the replies).
Tiziano and Squalo are second most popular just because they’re constantly tagging each other in stuff and posting like it’s Instagram, not Tumblr. They’re also relatively conventionally attractive, so the types to get fan blogs who speculate on whether they’re actually together or queerbaiting. They’ve made some bangers riffing off each other and Tiz has dragged Squalo away from the computer when he sees too many hate comments.
Doppio is only marginally more visible than Carne because he occasionally makes some cute posts, never including his face but sometimes outfits or silly things he sees. Inadvertently makes a funny or relatable text post that gets outside of his sphere and makes 10k, only for him to wake up baffled to a phone full of notifs. Diavolo lets him. Occasionally the Boss is bemused by the weird anonymity of it all. Rarely gets hate posts.
Carne is so chill. Epitome of reblogger, his only unique posts are occasional nature shots that he may have edited lightly for vanity reasons or clarity, some shots that people would (nowadays…. UGHHHH) accuse of AI generation. He includes a picture of his hand one time so people stop saying it. He doesn’t spam tags at all either. Popular in the photography sphere but nowhere else. His shots don’t circulate in aesthetic blogs.
<𝟑 .ᐟ Sub 1k Followers
<𝟑 .ᐟ like this post? check the rules here for sleepover event <3
okay may i request ummm bucci gang and who is most likely to snore loud as shit or who is most likely to talk in they sleep omg hehehe. I hope this request is ok!
- 🦹♂️
ABSOLUTELY haha these are the sort of flesh-em-out HCs I live for :)
<𝟑 .ᐟ Sleep Conversationalist
God, he fucking YAPS. You wake up to go get a glass of water, and on your way back to bed, bleary eyed, Mista rolls over to you and says, completely clearly, “Bucciarati, I can do that. I’ll have it done by Friday morning.” You stand there and blink at him until he starts snoring again, at his regular loud ass pattern. He has no idea what “that” was in the morning, but can recount a dream where you outpaced him in a car race.
Narancia snores an inch. Not to the point you have to actively adapt. But he mumbles consistently, not very loudly, only for you to one time wake up to “Why did you drink my orange juice?” In the saddest, most pathetic tone possible. He also does not remember, blinking at you bewilderedly when you recount how devastated he sounded. There’s no way he did that.
Bucciarati doesn’t snore too much. But he mumbles a little, nonsense that you can parse a few words from: “Sticky”, “hate”, “regret”, “don’t”, “love”, “mi amore”, and a handful of names. They’re usually inconsequential. He remembers too and has a good time relaying the contents of his dreams to you, laughing over the silly parts. Nightmares are silent, muscle tensing affairs you soothe him from.
Abbachio snores just a little, especially when he drinks. But he rarely speaks at all, it’ll be gibberish when he does and it’s so quiet it would not wake you up— when he does it’s punctuated by sounds like whines or coughs, more emotional than enunciated by any means, a rare choked sob. He doesn’t remember at all what made him like that and frowns at you, muttering to get some rest before he tugs you back to his chest.
Fugo is surprisingly quiet. He may snore a tiny bit when something agitates his stomach, but that in and of itself is rare and he usually sleeps soundly, face twitching and contorting when he has nightmares. He might say a name once or twice in varying degrees of agitation, but the important ones you know well enough to comfort him back to sleep from.
Giorno is eerily quiet as he sleeps, soft breathing that lulls you as well. It hitches and tenses occasionally with a dream; anxiety clutching his throat at nightmares of when he used to be a kid, and you can hold his hand to prevent him from nibbling on the nails. Never rouses you with any sleep sounds, but when getting water you may hear him murmur your name lovingly. He doesn’t recall why.
<𝟑 .ᐟ DEAD Silent
<𝟑 .ᐟ like this post? check the rules here for sleepover event <3
bucci gang x most likely to develop feelings for a fellow mafioso vs most likely to fall in love with a civilian who knows literally nothing about the mafia or stands
first sleepover post :3 you are an example sorry haha, i really like this idea <3
<𝟑 .ᐟ No Stand, No Problem
Fugo is incredibly grateful that you do not question him, or know anything about that repulsive expression of his lesser traits. He meets you for library dates, beach excursions, anything where you are none the wiser to his violence, those parts of him he regrets to retain. He smiles, Purple Haze hovering behind him for your benefit: do not question his concerns.
Narancia could care less if Aerosmith’s buzzing gives you any pause. He’s happy you don’t acknowledge it, or happy you don’t mind the din of the Stand around him as you skip towards a cafe holding hands. He’ll be able to scout out any physical threat, Stand or otherwise, before it could even become an issue. He wants some degree of normalcy.
Mista is running a daycare by himself. It’s less that he cares you can fight, more so he doesn’t want to be alone in handling them. If he’s twitching and fidgeting during every date, you’re going to pick up on it. If you can at least see them, it absolves him the anxiety of watching Number Five cling to your pinkie even when doing something like sipping tea.
Bucciarati has the selfish desire to separate work from love, to sequester you safely from his professional life, and yet, there is a burden he has taken on that is made that much easier by one who understands. He assists in your training, beaming at your success: he can protect you, but to keep you completely safe, you must know what to do when he isn’t there.
Abbachio has had people capable of caring for themselves fail, and still, he foolishly puts his hope into the idea that you can cover your ass. Perhaps a facet of his self loathing. He doesn’t believe himself capable of protecting you, deep down, and yet, he’ll lunge to take the bullet for you anytime. If you can see Moody Blues, you may understand him better.
Giorno understands the danger having a Stand puts you in, yet, selfishly, he wishes for you to be able to defend yourself rather than having to rely on him. He will certainly fight. Pure disgust at your injury overrides his otherwise neutral disposition, but if you can care for yourself, he appreciates being able to kiss your wounds after instead. He’ll protect your strength, rather than your innocence.
<𝟑 .ᐟ Co Conspirators in Battle
<𝟑 .ᐟ like this post? check the rules here for sleepover event <3
I humbly ask for a Bratty!Sub!Gyro x Dom!Fem reader smut oneshot 🙏🙏 Maybe the scenario goes a little something like... they're both partnered up for the race, and Gyro is just constantly teasing her etc n thinks he's all that, so reader has to put him in his place 👀
This idea has been bouncing around in my head,, oughh I'd love to see some sub Gyro for once cuz honestly I think it suits him
-🌻
𖦹⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ When I’m Through, You’ll Love This (Sub Gyro Zeppeli x Fem Reader) 𖦹⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆
ദ്ദി •⩊• ) I LIKED THIS PROMPT A LOT AND I SIMPLY COULD NOT FREE MYSELF FROM IT also why do I always struggle more w build up than the actual smut. Hello. Maybe you’re both a lil mean in this but alas
Excited to do some sleepover stuff tonight :3 the party will last until i say it doesnt!!!
Notes: face sitting, teasing, derogatory language/degradation, bullying Gyro, penetrative sex, bondage (Gyro getting his wrists pulled back), self harm imagery (you each do tie a noose)
Logical. It was, of course, completely practical, to cross this patch of the race in pairs rather than single, or even a larger group. The thin, winding trails on the rocky cliffs were difficult to maneuver, even for those who had plenty of trail experience. Having someone with you to check where your tired eyes may have breezed over… even if they’d put a knife in your back any other day. Dry heat brings forth sweat that almost immediately evaporates. Dust coated your tongue, added what felt like pounds to the flank of your horse and the saddlebags by your boot spurs. Vulture calls the only sign you were not alone, across the sandstone and silt. Misery at its finest.
“Grateful for the scenery, that I don’t need to focus on your ugly mug.”
“If you don’t shut up, I’m pinning that tongue of yours to the next cactus I see,” you mutter, wiping your brow. Salt stings your eyes as you stretch— each muscle aches in a new way, tension from both the man behind you, and the terrain having seized up every fiber in anticipation of slipping and joining the picked clean carcasses lining the ravine.
Your jacket and chaps are practically dyed red. The smell of the earth soaked in, as the night descended quickly. Its chill made everything more treacherous; as much as you wanted to dart ahead, it wasn’t smart. Orange walls curl around you with random pockmarks and jagged bits: had it been carved out by humans, maybe?
“You won’t make it to another one at the rate you drink water.”
Yep, an absolutely exquisite misery.
It was impressive, really. After his little show before the race had even started, incapacitating the one guy-- he had to have had the extra twenty dollars, what was the point of the whole thing-- you sought a solitary ride, only for it to become evident he had a strategy you could slip alongside.
Strategic, intentional-- despite his brutality. And that brutality translated to the fastest route.
It truly became, however, a moment of suffering from success-- in the top ten of the first stage, you’d felt the emerald eyes of your competitor boring into you.
Didja steal my map or something? Why the hell are you here?
Fucking freeloader type, aren’t you? Sticking in our tracks? Annoying as hell.
I saw your feature on the news. Someone who’s only in this for the challenge shouldn’t be running this fast. What are you really after?
You oughta take a leaf out of Sandman’s book and just use your feet. I want to see how run through your damn soles are when you stumble after us.
Johnny, are you serious? It’s like tossing scraps to a dog!
“You wanna bet?” You retort, locking eyes. Zeppeli’s lip curls.
“You’re too broke to pay me out.”
The hell did he know? “Fucking insufferable,” you say, to no one in particular, and shuck off your jacket. Probably a good idea to smack it against the cave wall and get the dust off, but you’d been riding for… shit, was it fourteen hours? You each wanted out of this area as soon as possible.
Summer Peach, your horse, snorts as if to mock you when you slap the leather. You knew how useless it was. One glance at her chestnut coat said as much. You reach into one of the bags.
“Good thing I’m not here to entertain you.”
“You don’t even have to try. Your technique is laughable enough.”
“Yeah, you piece of shit?” Gyro goads.
You grit your teeth. Don’t feed it, don’t do it. Just like a schoolroom bully. That’s all he is.
“Is that why you keep following us?”
“Most people would just accept it as the compliment it is and shut up.” Tossing a pack of jerky between your hands, you plop down and tear into the canvas. This seller had good spices. Rare from some of these Americans.
He’s quiet. Nothing to say to that one? You glance up at the man.
Dressed in regal tones with an added warm tinge from the grit, his green eyes flicker with something. He needed to put something on his arms, you think smugly, noting how even under the dirt his skin was a deep reddish brown. Sure your leathers made you sweat, but Johnny’s nasty sun blister the other day reminded you why it was worth it. And so does that.
Hair like wheat chaff trails over his shoulder. He tilts his head at you and smiles.
That damn grill. You do your best not to roll your eyes at the sight of it.
“Aw, if only a compliment from you wasn’t worth less than a penny.” He coos it in a syrupy sweet tone. “I’d be touched.”
Chrissakes. You toss a piece of jerky in your mouth and chew, counting to ten.
Killing on the trail was against the rules…. But. If his body was recovered at the bottom of the ravine, it could be assumed he fell, right? You ponder. Valkyrie could have gotten spooked. Really, it’s tempting. It’s really tempting.
“Remind me why we got paired off while Johnny gets to ride alongside Mountain Tim?” You ask, loudly. It echoes a little against the eroded walls. Gyro narrows his eyes at you.
“Because I don’t trust you for a grain of salt, and Johnny’s damn bleeding heart will kill both of us.”
“Oh? And you’re the only one who can keep an eye on big bad me.” You press a hand to your chest in mock offense and blink innocently. “Your little boyfriend must mean a hell of a lot to you for you to take on his rabid dog.”
“Don’t call him that.”
“Give me a reason not to.”
Each of you glare at the other, your fingers still digging in the canvas bag. He keeps his eyes level with yours as he lifts his own canteen, sipping from it. What, was he really going to contest? The two of them were glued together, mostly due to the smaller man’s clinging, but still. It had to feel weird being separated right now. And you wished the strangely sympathetic, gruff man was here too. Johnny was the one who saw you panting, the anger in your eyes at the end of the first stage.
No, don’t give him an inch of sympathy. You inhale, and hold your hands up in surrender.
“Listen, I don’t want to be a dick or fight, okay? Let’s drop it. We’ll meet up with them in just under ten hours.”
“You did study my map.”
That was what he picked up on? Good god he was an egomaniac. “Yeah. I already told you it was a good route,” you say, and set the jerky to the side.
Mm, your canteens were full enough right? Maybe at the bottom of this canyon there was enough of a creek that you could toss an iodine tablet and move on. “How’s your water supply? And no need for commentary,” you snap, as he opens his mouth. “You know where the closest body of water is, smartass, but if there’s anything at the bottom here, maybe I’ll rappel down.”
“I’m fine.”
“Quantifiable numbers, I don’t want Valkyrie collapsing on the trail,” you reply. He spits to the side.
“About three quarters left in my second one. And I know my own damn horse.”
Satisfied, you nod. About the same. “Good. On that note, do you mind taking first watch?”
“I would prefer it.” Great. Just ignore his little attitude.
“I need at least two hours but as long as you don’t dump water on me, I’ll gladly take over.”
“Not making promises.”
“Don’t. And if you use my water, I’ll go to the bottom of the ravine myself and—“
“You won’t.”
A frown splits your face. Christ, what was he protesting for? Your lips part, but close again at his stern expression.
Eyes downright dark, even— the green of a dense forest swaying in the wind right before a storm. What?
“Whatever. I’m going to sleep.”
The fatigue of the day is starting to set in. Eyelids start sagging-- ugh, wish you had something to tell time. You yawn, and pull over your jacket. It’ll suffice as a blanket… Sleeping too comfortably anyways would make you want to stay, and if you woke up with some aches, it would be his fault.
Yep. You did your best to rest on the trail, but alas, you only managed four hours of sleep. Johnny, reprimand him.
Then, you could have a real rest at an expensive hotel purchased immediately with first place winnings, just for the night, to recover and be ready to run again. Preferably on your own, slinking in the shadow. It was your own fault that Gyro had caught on to what you were doing. You’d have to follow from a greater distance from now on, without the need to have backup.
“Hey, don’t sleep yet.”
Gods if only you had a gun. You give him the stink eye. His own glint with mischief.
“I had an idea.”
“What is it?” you try your damndest to keep the frustration out of your voice. Not working real well, even you can tell. But he doesn’t let it show.
Gyro whistles, leans back against the cave wall.
“You want to see who can tie the better noose?”
Your eyes narrow. “What are you implying?”
“Well, you know, when you lose, I can pass this off to you. One last gift.”
“Why even propose the competition if you’re so sure you’ll win?” You reply, dry as bone. He shrugs.
“What’s wrong? No more bite?”
“I’m fucking tired, Zeppeli. You have to be as well. Stop delaying me so you can get some sleep too.”
“You really go belly up—“
“Toss me the damn rope.”
Jacket sliding down your torso, you sit up, and hold out your hand. He tosses you a length of rope, grinning, gold teeth glinting in the low light of the campfire. A branch pops.
“You get fifteen minutes.”
“I can tie one in—“
“Don’t care.”
Chrissakes. Wistfully you think of Mountain Tim, equally as suspicious of you but at least polite. If you explained yourself to him, he’d probably listen. Maybe even understand.
But it’s not worth wasting the time. Muttering to yourself, you go ahead and start knotting the rope at your fingertips.
For a few blissful minutes, it’s quiet. Outside the coyotes take turns singing. Fire crackles in front of you, darkening some of the crevices in the weave. You can focus on knotting the noose; something you’d never really tried to do, lack of need. Weirdly, the focus on your hands was a welcome change from the day.
And it was something you couldn’t help. If there was a challenge in front of you, stubbornly you ran right through it. Occasionally it didn’t pay off. Like now.
“Damn,” you murmur, undoing a loop you just made.
Perhaps you were doing yourself a disservice, the man was a damn executioner, he probably just wanted to exhaust you so you fell in the ravine.
There were some handsome fellows in the race who could exhaust you in a different way, if you had the wherewithal. But you couldn’t think about that. Too much of the race was left, and hell, just because they were pretty didn’t mean they were decent. One guy had hit on you immediately from the sign up spot and it took everything in you not to break his shins.
You frown as you think about it.
This was…. Easily one of the most difficult things you decided to undertake. For a variety of reasons.
“Are you just going to keep playing with that until it frays?”
Whatever. Your head is starting to feel heavy anyways. Letting the rope fall, you kick it over towards Zeppeli, and he hisses, scrabbling for it before a cord pokes into the embers.
“The hell?”
“I give up. Thanks for taking first watch.”
You flop over and pull your jacket back up over your upper half, exhaling, and turning away from the fire. Its heat curls perfectly around the base of your sore spine, and you relax.
Finally. Just get through the night.
Halfway unconscious, you’re jerked back awake when you feel something tug at your angle.
What? You drag it back, toe catching on the rough ground. Gyro curses.
“Almost pulled you…”
That was it. Blood pumps through you as you sit up ramrod straight, glaring directly at him— you follow his hands where the noose has just barely made it around your ankle and tightened.
“What is your fucking problem, Gyro? Do you want me to just say ‘screw it’ and dart off into the dark by myself? Because I’m this close to doing it.”
His eyes widen for just a second in surprise. Then they take on the same arrogant air, that same stupid, self assured solidness. Gods you hated it.
“You’d be endangering Peach, you don’t want t—“
“The hell do you know about what I want?!” You shriek, grabbing the rope and slipping your boot out of it before yanking it out of his hands. He almost falls forward on his face. If you weren’t half delirious with exhaustion, maybe you’d laugh.
But it was enough.
“Right now, I want to shut that godawful gaudy gold mouth of yours, tie your arms down and leave you to shrivel up on this cave like a goddamn raisin.”
“So do it. If you think you can.”
Adrenaline turns your veins icy hot. Think you could? You knew you could. Right now, you could take on an army if it meant you got some fucking peace and quiet.
In fact, hadn’t you just thought about how you could use some stress relief?
A smile turns up the corners of your lips, before turning into laughter, derisive, exhausted, making your whole body shake. Out the corner of your eye, you catch Gyro’s surprised expression.
“Oh yeah?”
Without thinking, you stride to him and loop his wrists in the rope before he can do anything.
“Wha— hey, hey—“
“Shut up-- the hell am I saying that for? I don’t think you’ve ever even tried.”
You pull up his arms by the wrist and tie the loose end to a jagged bit sticking out of the wall. Slapping your hands together to get the dust off, you step back, satisfied.
Gyro glares up at you. Back leaning against the wall, arms stretched, not totally helpless you’re sure— the rope isn’t fully secure but he’s not making any efforts to move. Tied up like a slab of meat.
“A lot better,” you muse.
“This won’t shut me up.”
“No, but I have a different idea for that. Two, actually. If you’re game.”
His eyes flash. Something different than what you’ve seen-- maybe even, a flicker of intrigue.
“And what could you mean by that?” He drawls. “Thought you were chomping at the bit to pass out.”
“I was, but someone decided to keep me up, huh?”
You lean towards him. As you do, he draws his knee up, and you can’t help but let your gaze go there. But he’s not poising to kick— actually…
You grin.
“Here. I’ll shut us both up.”
With a single finger, you tilt his head up and press your lips to his.
Surprise stiffens him before he melts into your touch. Salt and earth, you taste on his mouth, the desperate way he kisses you back, leaning so your chests brush each other. He was that easy this whole time…?
Exhaling, you drop to straddle him. Sharp metal of his belt buckle pokes your abdomen; below your hips there’s a slight pressure against your crotch. You hum.
“Is this why you kept me up? You needed some attention?”
His expression conflicts with itself; shame, irritation, need, his lip curling in a slight sneer that contradicts the blush in his cheeks. The smile still hasn’t left your face. You couldn’t deny he was handsome.
“There’s better ways of asking.”
“Look—“ he starts, but his breath hitches as you roll your hips against his. Slowly you feel his erection grow, sending a trill of excitement down your spine. You laugh.
“Just so you know, I wasn’t chasing after you to do this. But if I caught you, I’m taking full advantage. And you’re fine with that, aren’t you?”
His buckle is easy to undo, slipping his belt aside as you trail kisses down his neck. There’s a faint soap smell— when did he wash last? Mixed in with the musk, the sweat that dried to his skin. He curses under his breath as you press your tongue to his pulse point, nipping into the tanned flesh. His breath trembles.
“You don’t make sense at all,” he murmurs. In response, you tug his pants and drawers down, letting his cock spring free. The man inhales sharply.
Damn, he was a little bigger than you expected. Long, swollen, pinkish. But you mask any surprise and let your hand just barely hover around it, fingers just barely brushing over his frenum. It twitches.
“Well, does this?”
You lean down and lick a slow strip up the side of his length. And immediately rewarded as his breath hitches again, hips inadvertently twitching towards your mouth. Your hand wraps around the base, tight, and you experimentally give him a stroke.
“Y/N…” Gyro says through gritted teeth. You laugh softly, and kiss him again; warmth curls in your gut at the desperation, how he pushes his mouth against yours, a vein along his cock pulsing under your finger.
After all day, of him lording his knowledge over you, insinuating you should be grateful for getting to come alongside you, now he was practically whimpering into your mouth.
A soft scraping noise meets your ears, and you realize he’s pulling away that much harder from where you’ve secured him. Christ.
You run your hand up and down his length, pumping him slowly, running a finger over his weeping tip, as Gyro moans.
“Damn it, Y/N…”
As he pushes his hips towards your hands, however, you let go of him and sit back.
It’s a fight to not laugh at the absolute confusion in his eyes. Lips parted, his chest heaving steadily, hands clenched into tight fists, his swollen dick twitching without your touch. He’s absolutely pathetic like this. Did he really like it this much?
“I can still hear too much from you. You mind?”
You let your hands drop to your own belt. His eyes snap straight to the buckle. A low, long exhale leaves his lips.
“Please.”
The single word is rough from his lips. Your stomach curls, and you take your time sliding the belt down, unbuttoning your shirt for good measure and sliding down your pants. In the chill of the desert night, a shiver runs through you; still. You step out of your drawers.
Gyro’s eyes, heavily lidded, flicker between your face, smug, flush with blood, and the space between your thighs. One fist unfurls briefly, and you catch a glimpse of the indents where his nails were pressed into.
“Here.”
You lean forward and pull his hands up, over the little spike you’d hooked him on and help him slide down the wall, laying back, holding his hands above him… obedient without you having to say a word.
After a moment, you grab your pants and chaps and slide them under his head.
He laughs hoarsely. “Fucking really?”
“You want a better angle? Or I can go to bed.”
His mouth snaps shut. You smile.
“Much better.”
Kneeling, straddling his hips, let a finger trail between your folds, teasing a tiny bit at your entrance. Damn. It had been a minute… You trace a small circle around your clit. Arousal slickens each bit, your pussy growing wetter and more sensitive with the contrast of the cool air.
A shaky sigh leaves you and Gyro at the same time.
You shuffle up. When your hips hover just above his mouth, you meet his eyes.
Darker, with need-- cheeks flushed as much as yours. He was way too into this. So were you.
“Snap three times if you can’t breathe.”
“If I can, I’m not doing my job,” he rasps. Warm breath brushes your clit.
Even as his words make your stomach flutter, you don’t let it show.
“I’ll see.”
You bring your cunt to his mouth.
Almost immediately his tongue comes out, pushing into your pussy just a little before trailing up your folds, taking your clit between his upper lip and tongue. Kitten licks against the underside. Each bump rubbing a nerve.
Sighing, you roll your hips carefully over his lips. He moans; the vibrations make you twitch.
“Shit…”
Knees tucked against his head, you ride his face, his tongue slipping against your clit steadily. Against your inner thighs his stubble tickles. Every tiny lap or twist of the appendage rubs against your folds; you moan, your folds spread as he laps and licks at you like you would melt over him if he wasn’t careful.
Admittedly, you’re close to. Body shaking, hips rolling in a rhythm, pleasure warms your whole form. Sweat begins to bead at your brow, chilling against your skin immediately.
One hand props you up against the stone wall as you pant, the other traces along his hairline at his temple, before lacing in his gold tresses. You’re rewarded with a groan against your core that makes your eyes roll back.
“Mm… Gyro…”
Maybe you’d have some kind of scratch against your thighs after this, from the little hairs, but it’d be worth it, you think dazedly as you rut your clit against his tongue. He sucks against it, taking it into his mouth, and your movements still as you moan. Damn. Damn, he knew what he was doing, rolling the tip of his tongue around your sensitive bundle of nerves and making your muscles clench. Your thighs press against his neck. He hums.
“C’mon, I’m so… so…”
As he swipes his tongue against your most sensitive part once more, you shudder, and the tension building in your gut snaps as you cum against his lips.
Ecstasy trickles through your veins. You nearly fold from the burst of pleasure through your cunt, clit throbbing against his mouth. Slowly, you take deep breaths, on your trembling legs, starting to push yourself up and away from his mouth. Shit.
Gyro inhales sharply, like he really was holding his breath. Hazily, you glance back down at him. His eyes are still foggy with lust, a trail of your arousal still sticking to his bottom lip, hands curled above his head. He hadn’t put his hands on you that whole ordeal... Just as before, obeying without the need for another word. The collar of his shirt is askew. Along his cheeks and temple, sweat has beaded, and you can’t tell whose it is.
“So good,” you murmur, and push yourself up on shaking legs. “So good…”
“Y/N…” he begs, and your stomach flutters as you scoot back down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt to let your fingers brush his skin. Your breath follows, ghosting along his pecs.
“Hold on until I say so.”
His brow furrows for a second before his eyes roll back-- if you weren’t desperately clutching to control, you would have done the same as you first slide your wet folds against his throbbing dick.
The man leans back, arms still arching above his head, hips flexing. Cursing under his breath. The heat is almost as bad as during the day now.
His head catches on your opening. Without hesitating, you relax, and let yourself sink onto him.
The curve of his head catches against your sensitive walls; involuntarily you twitch and clench on him as you take every inch of his cock. He lets out a long, breathy sound and pushes his hips up before stilling himself. After allowing yourself a moment to adjust, you raise yourself off his dick, and drop your hips again.
Gyro twitches, helpless, pinning himself to the ground and panting like a dog while you ride him, more of a toy than anything else. Pretty like this. The sight makes you press to him harder, letting your pelvis fully meet his, and you groan at how much he fills you. Gods.
The wet shlp-shlp sound of your movements echoes faintly against the cave walls. Under your lids, you catch glimpses of him: disheveled, hair tangling against the makeshift pillow you gave him, the glistening of your cum still on his lips, the man who couldn’t stop talking shit just an hour ago is wordless. Your pussy squeezing around him, his fists shaking, eyes pressing shut as he holds himself back.
“Fuck, Y/N…”
“I’m not done,” you reply. You’re doing your best to sound commanding, but you’re approaching your limit too; the stretch of him combined with how your legs are still shaky from how he ate you, the exhaustion of the day making you woozy along with the pleasure. With each movement your overwrought clit brushes the curls at the base of his cock, and you feel your gut begin to curl again.
You bring your fingers to the spot between your thighs and rub, watching Gyro’s expression as you tighten around him further and he whines. Whines. God what a sound.
“Please, damn it, please…”
“Yeah?” you say softly. “What do you want?”
Fingertips slip against your slick and combined sweat. But you’re close; your hand shakes as you feel yourself get closer to the edge. The man gulps for air.
“Please.. Just gotta finish…”
“You want to cum?”
“Y/N, please, lemme…”
Maybe it’s the scrape of his curved cockhead against your g-spot, maybe it’s the wet, lewd sounds that come from where your bodies meet, the light brush of your fingers against your clit or the exquisite sound of his begging, but your abdomen tightens and you cum around him again with a groan. The pulsing of your walls around him draw a long, breathy whine from his lips.
“Now.”
In one swift move you lift off of him, and, wrapping your hands around his base, jerk him off with long, tight strokes. With a final curse that turns into a high pitched moan, cum spurts from his tip and trickles down his length, coating your fingers in white.
Each of you take heavy breaths as you sit back. His body settles, trembling just a tiny bit. Another branch crackles in the fire; the cave is sweltering, now, but the warmth begins to die down just as the post orgasm bliss does.
You swallow.
“God… fuck it all…” you mutter hoarsely. Gyro curses.
“I should be… saying that…”
Carefully you lean up and loosen the rope around his wrists. Red marks line the skin; well, hopefully his wrist cuffs could cover them enough. If someone raised questions, he would certainly shut them up.
The man rubs them, clumsily pulling himself to sit, and still trying to catch his breath. You start buttoning your shirt up as he pulls up his pants, eyes lingering on the exposed skin of your stomach, your thighs glistening with sweat and arousal.
He licks his lips. Tugs out a handkerchief to wipe his softening erection, holding it out to you. Briefly, you hesitate, before accepting it and wiping your hand. Hell with it.
“You, uh…” Gyro starts, but you hold up a hand to cut him off.
He narrows his eyes, and finishes anyway— “We can talk… about it in the morning.”
“Anything specific?” You awkwardly scuttle to the side to grab your bottoms, pulling them on and nearly dropping your belt in your clumsy grab for it. He barely suppresses a snort.
“Well… I don’t want you to think I hate you. You’re actually pretty damn smart.”
“Because you’re that good at running?”
“I am. But you’re a good shadow.”
Fine enough. Your stomach flips, but you just shrug a shoulder. “I won’t linger in yours, near the finish line. So you know.”
“I want to see it. That fire.”
“Think you can handle it again?” you tease lightly, and the man shakes his head, muttering.
“I’m talking about your racing, you ass. Don’t hold back.”
You blink. His green eyes level with yours, and there’s a bit of bashful mischief in his grin as he slaps the dust off his knee.
“Just because I’ll win no matter what, doesn’t mean that I don’t want a good challenge.”
“I’ll be ready for you.” It comes out maybe a bit softer than you intended; you could blame it on the late hour if you wanted. But he seems to catch it before you can pull it back, and his own gaze on you lightens.
“Get some rest. I’ll watch.”
“Wake me when you need,” you reply. Trying not to come down on your knees too hard, you lay down on your bedroll again-- the cotton maybe more comfortable than you’d given it credit for. As your eyes close, you hear him start to hum something-- but it’s quiet enough to be a lullaby, one that you cling to, drift along with as your head succumbs to sleep and the coyotes take up the tune in the distance.
ദ്ദി •⩊• ) halloo! I am opening the sleepover event stuff :3 this is a VERY specific type of request I will be accepting. please do not send in regular HC or fic requests, they will not be addressed— sorry!
if folks are interested i’ll do the prompt list but yall are pretty creative so im not opposed to just opening it up \o/
these posts will follow this format for length.
<𝟑 .ᐟ Rules:
1. The prompt must be in the “most likely to” or close enough format. Ex: “Green Dolphin Inmate Crew + most likely to change sleep positions in the middle of the night”
2. PLEASE SPECIFY A GROUP. Depending on volume of rqs I may open it to the general cast, but for now, please describe the cast you want. Max 8 charas. Ex: Buccigang, Pillarmen, Dio’s minions, JoJos, Jofoes, etc.
3. NSFW, crack and fluff all allowed! Please specify gender for NSFW.
Happy requesting and thank you guys again for 200, I know Im far from perfect but im still really honored yall enjoy my stuff c:
