#// kept debating whether to post this one or not

[kheimerios]

dull roar

[lovesickeros]

☆ you sow; & thus you shall reap what you are owed

{☆} characters tsaritsa {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, violence {☆} word count 0.8k

You are dying.

Gold melts into the dirt, bleeds into the very earth that you'd molded by your own hands – a familiarity you do not understand the source of – you know it to be true, yet you do not remember it as Teyvat does. It weeps, in turn, for the way you bleed upon it, the way your lungs strain for breath.

It is fury and sorrow and fear and hatred so raw that your mind buckles.

You will die.

"A dying godling and its judge, it's jury – it's executioners," The voice is hollow and cold, sweeps across your broken body like the first chill of winter, "Archons who saw themselves Gods, now brought to heel by their own hubris."

A cold hand upon your cheek, the brush of a thumb across your lip, the gentle caress of cold across your skin. You know her – you don't remember, you shouldn't recognize her but you do – and she knows you. The cold beckons and you follow, let her kindness settle in the hollow space of your chest. You want to speak, to cry and scream and rage, let the world burn around you in a fit of flames so hot even she cannot contain it – but she silences you, quiets the anger seeping into your blood, quiets Teyvat itself.

"Do not speak, little godling. Guide my hand," She is cold; her hands are not gentle, yet it is bliss compared to the callous, cruel hands that have shattered you. She is cruel and cold and brutal but she is love in the way she kisses the crown of your head. She is love in the way she is the bulwark between you and the world that has scorned you – she is fury in the way she brings them to their knees. "And I shall enact judgement most divine."

They will pray for forgiveness, and they shall find themselves wanting.

"It wasn't our fault!" They cry, but you cannot recognize the voice – it breaks and cracks like glass. "They were too human. How were we meant to know? We– we thought they were.."

Silence.

You watch your judge – the executioner, the blade that shall carve their sins into the very marrow of Teyvat, stand above you like death. As cold as winter and just as brutal. Your temple has been painted in the gold of your divine blood, and she shall complete the masterpiece with their own. The Archons shall become the grandest art in the world – this temple the canvas, their blood the paint and their bodies the palette. The cold that cuts sinew cradles you – it sings to you, whispers sweetly in your ear and carves bone from body in the same breath. The cold presses it's lips to your wrist and it cradles a heart within it's palm – judges them and finds them guilty.

It is her spear that rests between their ribs, her sword that dissects and her dagger that carves – the cold devours.

In the breadth of this divine sanctuary, the Archons dwindle. They become the pieces of a divine work of art, they bleed and bend and break upon her hands. She shakes the heavens and carves mortality into the bones of the divine – your word is Law, and you weave their deaths into the roots of Teyvat itself.

They shall know of their grand folly in every moment henceforth and longer still and they shall weep.

And as the curtain falls, as the world crumbles beneath fist and blade, she cradles your face between hands too cold – as gentle as a shard of ice between your ribs, as brutal as the kiss of gentle snowfall. The world buckles at the loss of six, but she alone does not allow it to break – you will have to mend the wounds of the world when you are well, but today you weep and Teyvat weeps with you.

And alone, the cold remains.

Stone has eroded, the wind has ceased, the flames have been extinguished, the storm has been silenced, the forests have gone quiet and the seas go still.

But the cold remains, bathed in gold.

It wraps you in thick furs, cradles you against the winter storm that brews beneath a veneer of composure. It brings you home – lets the world settle into a stillness and silence that inspires only dread and still she presses a kiss to your brow.

It is cold, but there has never been something so warm.

Where hands have broken you, she drapes you in furs, wipes away the thick gold that clings to your skin. She pieces you back together where you have been shattered, reshapes you where you have been bent – makes of you something new. Not a god and not a mortal but something wedged between them.

But you are yourself.

And you are where you belong.

They shall put you back together and you shall know only the worship worthy of the divine. They shall carve this world into your image, tear out and burn away the rot that festers.

All you need to do is say the word and they shall be your tools to make this world your own.

One word and those who wronged you shall burn, too.

Just one word. That's all it takes, and they shall take away your pain.

[retributory]

when you think about it clive and flora are actually perfect narrative foils on complete accident. like what's up with that. professor layton and the completely imagined literary devices

[moderatetoaboveaverage]

I'm tired and I don't have good words to type against your support for the continued maintance of the world's nuclear stockpile. However, as for the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, you have been severely misinformed.

There was, at no point, any real considerations among the United States military of a ground invasion of Japan. It was well known that such an invasion would be costly and useless, as the Japanese were already beaten by the time the bombs were dropped.

These are some quotes from high up military officials directly present for the decisions to drop the atomic bombs

“It is my opinion that the use of this barbarous weapon at Hiroshima and Nagasaki was of no material assistance in our war against Japan. The Japanese were already defeated and ready to surrender because of the effective sea blockade and the successful bombing with conventional weapons…"

- Fleet Admiral William D. Leahy, chief of staff to FDR and Harry S Truman.

The Japanese had, in fact, already sued for peace. The atomic bomb played no decisive part, from a purely military point of view, in the defeat of Japan.

-Fleet Admiral Chester W. Nimitz, Chief of Naval Operations, and Commander in Chief for Pacific Ocean Areas.

In 1945 Secretary of War Stimson, visiting my headquarters in Germany, informed me that our government was preparing to drop an atomic bomb on Japan. I was one of those who felt that there were a number of cogent reasons to question the wisdom of such an act. During his recitation of the relevant facts, I had been conscious of a feeling of depression and so I voiced to him my grave misgivings, first on the basis of my belief that Japan was already defeated and that dropping the bomb was completely unnecessary, and secondly, because I thought that our country should avoid shocking world opinion by the use of a weapon whose employment was, I thought, no longer mandatory as a measure to save American lives.

-General Dwight D Eisenhower, Supreme commander of the allied expeditionary forces in Europe during WW2, and later, president of the United States.

None of these men, high up in the military chain of commands, and directly aware of the decisions at play during the dropping of the atomic bombs, would have said these things if there truly was no other choice, or if the alternative was certain to prolong the war.

We dropped those bombs because they were the new toy, and offered a show of force that could threaten Russia, and reneg on our deal with Stalin to give him Japanese territory if they entered the Pacific theater.

And even if all that can be waved away, the post you cite, *admits* that the bombs were not what made that Imperial Japanese surrender!! The military tribunal could not have given a single shit how many civilians we vaporized with our bombs, this is the same military tribunal that had sat watching all the rest of our bombing raids, and did nothing, and had been hoping that the US would be forced into a ground invasion so they could use their civilians to buffer our troops. it was not until the Russians declared war that they surrendered, because to the military, the only thing that could have made them unconditionally surrender was knowing for 100% sure that they were in a position that was militarily and diplomatically unwinnable.

The bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki did nothing except kill 200,000 innocent civilians. They did not die to force the Japanese military into a surrender, they did not die to prevent a ground invasion, they just died, and *everyone* at the reins of US power knew that when they sent the orders to do it.

For further context, and source for much of this information, I recommend this video.

[aqalaxywithinher]

"Buddy Daddies" is the kind of anime I would've eaten up when I was younger.

But since I'm older, less wiser and much more traumatised -or able to identify the root of my daddy issues/ mommy issues/ found family obsession-, it just scars me more 👍🏼

[himezoro]

your roman empire with the one piece men

that small gesture or word he said that entered your mind and never left.

starring : zoro, luffy and law !!

word count : 889

author's note : again, i'm so sorry for posting so rarely, working and planning a wedding has to be the most exhausting thing ever, i promise to go through all of your requests and to be more present, tysm for your support ♡౨ৎ⋆.˚ some of these scenarios have been inspired by moments i often think about in my life, can you guess which hahaha??

zoro was smitten with you, and longed taking a step forward in your camaraderie, and everyone with a pair of eyes could see it. so when nami told him he was on errand duty with you and only you today, the swordsman knew it was his shot to get closer to you.

gosh, you were gorgeous walking around the alleys with the wind blowing your hair and diffusing your hypnotizing scent. and there he was, walking by your side like a guard dog with his hands the pockets of his jacket, listening to your enchanting voice.

the errands were nearly coming to an end, and zoro did not dare to "make a move", which he knew he would regret. the alleys got more crowded and he was afraid to lose you, especially since his orientation is not the best, though his senses would always bring him back to you. he knew that.

as zoro listened to you and internally debated on whether he should say something about his feelings or not, his body acted on his own, finally closing the distance.

as he gently grabbed your left hand with his right one, intertwined his fingers with yours, before putting both of his hand and yours in his right pocket, acting like it was the most natural gesture on earth.

and the butterflies in your stomach never died since.

luffy has always brought joy to your life and fed your desire for adventures and fun. he lit stars to your world and invited you to let go of pressure and have fun, not minding about third parties' opinions. a lot of people would question your couple association because of luffy's exuberance, but all them be damned. the future king of the pirates brought you back to life and no one could make you happier.

a sudden rain came down pouring on the grand line and the wind blew hard. the entire crew started running around to put back inside the furnitures that were left outside. the rain was so much that it started freezing and you started to run to your quarters. yet, as you were about to finally reach your door, a pair of elastic arms grabbed you and brought you back outside under the pouring rain, their owner sporting a huge, bright grin on his face.

"luffy!!! what the hell are you doing? it's raining and we'll catch a cold!!"

"chichichi, i wanted to dance with you, (y/n)!" he beamed, his eyes adoringly pleading yours to allow his antics as he started twirling you around under the pouring rain.

between laughters only him could exulate, you tried to bring him back to his senses.

"but luffy, honey, we can't dance under the rain! it's cold and there's no music playing!"

luffy did not mind your ramblings as he kept on twirling you around, his hand standing on your the small of your back the whole time, his thumb occasionnaly drawing circles. with a determined gaze and his signature smile on his face, he pressed his forehead on yours, the rain drops falling from his nose to your lips from the closeness.

"together, there's nothing that we can't do (y/n). after all, i'm the future king of the pirates!!"

his laughter hugged the atmosphere and made your heart race even more.

your relationship with law was a secret on the submarine, and it was hard for you to hide your adoration for your boyfriend. after all, what wasn't there to love? law was smart, composed, mature and commited. yet, sometimes, it felt so easy for him to "ignore" your status in front of the crew or anyone for that matter, which tended to hurt your heart. did law appreciate you the way you did? was it unrequited?

little did you know, law had a hard time not paying as much attention as he would when with the others. because he had a lot of work, even when the others were not around, it did not mean the two of you could see each other. therefore, the soft gestures he wished to cover you with were quite lacking. and of course, he was the one to have asked to keep the relationship a secret, and because of his prideful persona, he would not admit it was not a good idea.

you and bepo were getting ready to work around the submarines for your chores of the day. you were busy going around the submarine with your chores tool and bepo, and failed to notice your shoe laces came undone.

and of course, this would not go unnoticed by law. the captain could not stop himself from going to you with a frown, which surprised (and scared) both of you and bepo.

is there anything you did wrong? why was he looking so pissed off?

"idiot. you could trip and injure yourself." your boyfriend sternly spoke, kneeling to the floor to tie your shoe-lace, leaving bepo dumbfounded and yourself out of breath, with a racing heartbeat.

"you know i don't want you to get hurt." he said getting up, his hot breath tickling your cheek in the process, his warm hand resting on yours, silently promising to show his adoration for you like you deserve.

and you swore you could still feel the warmth of his hand from that day again.

[sleepincrow]

suguru geto plays with your boobs when hes injured, by the way, just wanna let you know.

its nothing too bad, but suguru likes to sit behind you and draw little circles on your bare hips underneath your baggy shirt.

you had wanted to read to him, pamper him. after all, his leg is pretty much broken right now. so you just wanted to be a good girlfriend.

but the way his overworked hands slide up your sides so gently like you're the most fragile piece of architecture made you stumble over your words.

"baby, what are you doing?" you inquire, almost threatening to close your book.

"shh, just let me feel you, angel, keep reading." his lips are right behind your ear and you swore you could feel the lightest plush of his lips against your skin.

but how could you really? the way his fingers trail closer to your chest makes the plethora of sentences in the book dance on your tongue, refusing to halt their relentless tango.

soon enough, the warm palms of his hands hold your breasts so delicately, ever so gently squeezing them — playing with them. his thumbs rub over your perky nipples, making you let out a shaky breath.

his own chest is connected to the flat of your back, bent a little forwards as your smaller stature curls in the sparks of pleasure.

the book had long been forgotten. your own hands using it as leverage to keep you sat up as straight as you could, without progress, of course.

you knew long before he was skilled with his hands, somehow multiplying your pleasure by tenfold compared to playing with yourself.

suguru's uninjured leg comes to wrap around one of your own, gradually spreading your legs apart. a soft whimper slips between your parted lips when you feel the cold air grazing your barely covered pussy.

now you debate on whether or not just panties to bed was a good idea.

too lost in the wonderland of growing pleasure, lips upon your shoulder going to the nape of your neck accompanied by whispered praises kept you distracted from the fact a hand had left your breast.

"y'so pretty, sweet angel." he cooed into you spit-slicked skin. eyes hungry for the way you contort your face into one of deep pleasure and fluster.

suguru would always find a way to lavish your perfect body. he worshipped you dearly, kissing every part of your skin like it was gifted by gods. he always found a way to praise you in action, even when he could not pin you against the soft silken sheets of your shared bed.

with a flick of a switch, a vibrating sound resonated within the dimly lit room

"be a good girl for me n' just sit still, look pretty, okay?"

not proofread. probably the first smut(?) ive acc posted AHHAH

[aciddrattboyy]

sharing is caring

your boyfriend isagi lets his best friend bachira fuck you while he watches (mostly)

bachira, isagi x f!reader ☆ smut ☆ 0.8k cw: dirty talk(its bad), penetration, cucking, squirting, rough sex, threesome a/n: reupload from ao3. gulp... ive actually been debating whether or not i should post it because i actually feel so embarrassed about it like i cant believe i typed that with my own fingies but my friend convinced me to post it so for my own wellbeing all the smut will be under the cut because i'll start convulsing if i read it against my will :)

☆

how you got into this predicament you weren’t sure. the events leading up to this blurry and hard to even try to remember. all you could think about was now. the present reality being you leaning back against your boyfriend isagi while his best friend bachira fucks into you.

“ah shit isagi- she’s so- fuck- so tight-,” bachiras onslaught of crude words made you helplessly clench around his dick. with your legs behind held up and open by isagi, you were getting mercilessly pounded into. you could hear isagi chuckle darkly from right behind you, his hard clothed dick pressing into your lower back as he squeezed your thighs. 

“dont forget to play with her clit bachira,” isagi’s voice was light, playful as he let go of one of your legs to grope at your breasts instead. “wanna feel her cum on you dont you,”

“f-fuck yeah- yeah i do,” without a second of delay he lets a ball of spit fall from his lips, both men’s eyes watching as it fell down right above your sensitive clit. the groan isagi let out had your hips bucking into bachira which just fueled him even more. “you’ll cum for me right y/n? you’ll cum on my dick right? your boyfriend said it’s okay so go ahead,” you whined as bachira kept his eyes on you. there was something unnerving in his eyes and the unwavering desperate smile he had. 

“a-ah fuck-,” you couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of bachira pressing his thumb onto your neglected clit, pressing his fingers into your lower abdomen as he moved his thumb in tight circles.

“y/n you sound so good- hah- cum for me baby please- wanna feel it bad,” he was babbling now, head hung low as he continued to drill himself into you. the room was filled with both you and bachira’s moans along with the wet slapping of his tight balls on your cunt. 

isagi, getting a tad jealous, wanted you to direct some of your attention back to him. hooking a finger under your jaw he tilted your head up and sideways to look at him before he placed his wet lips on yours. 

“shit thats so hot- so hot-,” meguru’s eyes shot up when he heard your muffled moan, almost cuming right then at the sight of his teammate taking control over your mouth, “i’m close- gonna cum- pretty baby how ‘bout you ask your boyfriend where i should cum,” isagi eyes meguru as he sucked on your tongue, a slight smirk tugging at his lips at how fucked out meguru looked. 

“you can’t cum until she does,” isagi’s authoritative tone has bachira’s hips stuttering. with a small whine leaving his lips, he brings his thumb back to your clit, circling it roughly. 

“cum y/n please cum- i need it- hah fuckfuck- please i- i need-,”

“shit bachira- right there right there- dont stop,” your moaning had both of their dicks twitching, their eyes locking once before a dry chuckle leaves isagi. 

“better keep going bachira make my pretty girl feel good she deserves it,” his voice was teasing as he left kisses along your temple, holding your lower face in his hand as he kept your eyes directed onto the scene in front of you.

“call me meguru- fuck baby please say it say my name,” bachira was panting now, babbling away as he tried so hard to not cum. he needed you to cum. needed to feel you cum around and call his name. 

“meguru i’m cum- im cumming ah shitshitshit,” before you had even a moment to realize what was happening, you were squirting around his dick. you were all but seeing stars as isagi reached a hand down to slap at your clit as meguru pulled out. 

“ fuck you’re so hot- squirting on me like that fucck-,” both you and meguru were a fucked out mess as isagi continued to abuse your clit and bachira kept bullying his cock before he came onto your stomach. 

“yoichi- ‘s too much- w-wait-,” you squirmed in isagis hold as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm. his eyes were wide and fixated on your squirting cunt, having not ever seen you do that before. bachira watched with hungry eyes as the sheets below turned dark with your cum, your squirt soaking his dick and thighs. 

you began to tear up at the stimulation, desperate moans leaving your mouth as you told isagi it was too much but to keep going. having never seen isagi so dominating, bachira didn’t look away when isagi jerked your head towards him, ordering you to open your mouth before spitting inside. bachira could feel his dick getting hard all over again just from the filthy sight alone. 

“fucked her so good you made her squirt,” isagi muttered as he kept his eyes on your cunt. there was no way in hell he was going to tell bachira that he was the first one to do so. “ ‘m gonna fuck her now ‘n since you were so nice to her-,” isagi was quick to reposition you so you were straddling him, laying your head on his chest as you tried to even out your breathing “i’ll let you fuck her ass,”

i hope you enjoyed !! reblogs/comments are very much appreciated <3

[vivwritesfics]

Scary Dog Privilege

Her werewolf boyfriends want to know what's more important, scary dog privilege or scary boyfriend privilege

Viv's AUgust Event

(Banner by @nurse-floyd)

It was a genuine debate between her boyfriends, one had as they laid in bed, wrapped together in that usual post sex haze, and she wanted to go out for a walk.

It was a stupid debate, one that didn't actually matter. But they still battled it out like the answer could bring a out world peace.

You might be asking yourself, what was the debate about?

What has more validity, scary dog privileges or scary boyfriend privilages? Luckily, she was in the position to find out.

(Not luckily, because she just wanted her boyfriends to be normal about something. She didn't understand why they were goddamn insistent on having it out about this when it just didn't matter. They were infuriating and she hated them. Well, she loved them a lot more than she hated them, but still).

She pulled her boots onto her feet and stood up. "Hurry up if you wanna come with me," she said and grabbed her keys from the top of the dresser.

Daniel climbed out of the bed. His body changed, thick, brown fur sprouting from his skin, bones snapping and reshaping into something new, teeth growing and becoming pointed. It sounded like a very painful process, but her boys assured her that it wasn't.

Max pulled on Daniel's shirt and a pair of shorts. Just dressed for a walk with his girl and their... dog, he supposed. "You're gonna have to wear a lead," Max said, grabbing the collars and leads they kept in the top of the wardrobe.

(They didn't keep the leads for anything kinky, for any sort of bedroom activities. It had come about after the boys had insisted walking to the street with her. They'd nearly gotten her fined for not having them on a lead, so they'd fixed it.)

Daniel growled and nipped at Max's fingers as he fastened the collar around his neck. Not too tight, Daniel could have gotten it off easily if he tried.

As soon as he was ready, they headed out of their Monaco apartment. Max held her hand, held the lead that attached them to Daniel. "Could you not have just stayed human?" She asked as she scratched behind his ears.

People were on the streets of Monaco, but nobody came up to them. Whether that was because of 'Scary Dog Privilege' or 'Scary Boyfriend Privilege', they weren't sure. But the walk was nice, just the three of them together. Even if Daniel insisted on staying changed.

When they returned back to their apartment, Daniel changed back. He didn't care that he was naked as they day he was born as he grabbed a drink. "I think we should test it out," he said as he walked into their bedroom.

"Test what out?" She asked as she sat beside Max and threw her leg over his lap.

Max sighed as his hand settled over her thigh. "Daniel wants to know if scary dog will keep you safe or scary boyfriend."

"No," she said immediately as she sat back, taking her leg from his lap. "Can you guys be normal for once, please? I just want to go for a walk with my fucking boyfriends sometimes." She released a huff and folded her arms across her chest.

Daniel walked out of the bedroom, dressed in something cosy. His hands were on her shoulders, squeezing. "I'm sorry," he mumbled and leaned down to kiss her head. "No more scary dog privileges, I promise. Just scary boyfriend privileges."

In response she grabbed him and pulled him between her and Max. "Forgiven," she said and climbed on top of him. Max grinned as he watched them. He leaned down, threaded his fingers through Daniels curls and kissed him.

She pushed Max out of the way and took his place, lips against Daniels. "I don't mind scary dog privileges," she mumbled against his lips. "Just not all of the time, okay?"

His hands travelled beneath her shirt, fingers heating her skin. "Okay," he agreed and pulled her on top of him.

[sleepyjuice]

Omg wait imagine when JJ notices you like messing with his rings, he gets a fidget ring that you can spin whenever you're bored(I have one and they're rlly fun lmao)

ahhhh yes!!! I didn’t even know this was a thing lol!!!

jj debated on whether he should let you pick out a fidget ring for him, or if he should just get one and have it be a surprise for you.

He decided to go with the latter, figuring that you would want to pick him out another one at some point.

You had arrived at the chateau after a long day of work, wanting nothing more than to curl up in bed with your boyfriend. Working two doubles in a row was not for the weak.

“Hey sweet thing, how was work?” jj sat up from his spot on the couch as you swung open the door, kicking your shoes off and setting your purse on the counter as you made your way across the room to your boyfriend who had waited up for you as you didn’t get off work until 11.

You sighed as jj pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you close.

“Oh, just peachy.” You grumbled, exhausted from spending 12 hours using your ‘customer service voice.’

“Mm,” jj hummed as he pressed his lips to your neck, leaving little kisses up and down the skin, “I’m just glad you’re home now, baby.”

You tilted your head, a smile tugging at your lips before you placed your hands on his chest, softly nudging him back a bit.

“I feel gross right now. Wanna shower with me?” You asked, and jj wasted absolutely no time before swooping you into his arms and carrying you into the bathroom as you giggled.

“Yes, ma’am.”

After a nice shower that basically just consisted of the two of your groping each other the entire time, you ended up in bed.

You finally felt yourself fully relax for the night as you lay your head on your boyfriend’s chest after a post shower quickie, your half naked bodies pressed against each other.

You instinctively reached for jj’s hands, taking ahold of the closest one in reach to you, sighing as you gently played with his fingers, already feeling your eyelids grow more tired by the second.

You were practically seconds away from sleep, at this point just lazily messing with his rings when you moved to another one of his fingers to toy with his ring when you realized it just fucking spun.

That woke you right up.

“What is that?” Your eyes shot open, immediately looking down at his fingers in your hand, finally noticing that he had a new ring.

You thought you had somehow broken one of his rings or something, but upon spotting the new one, you gently gave it another little push and it spun again, your eyes shooting over to jj now.

He couldn’t hold in his laughter at your reaction, mentally patting himself on the back for his decision to let it be a surprise for you, your reaction was both hilarious yet also warmed his heart at the same time. He always felt like both emotional and material wise, he didn’t have much to offer. Though as your relationship progressed, he began to rewire some of his toxic thoughts about himself, learning more about the good things about himself that his brain never allowed him to acknowledge.

“You like it?” He laughed, already knowing the answer.

“It’s uh, it’s a fidget ring. Basically just a regular ring but it’s actually designed to be played with and stuff.” He explained, watching you with a satisfied grin as you continued to play with it.

“Did you get this for me?” You asked him, and you swore your heart was about to explode. This was genuinely one of the most thoughtful things anyone has ever done for you.

“Course I did,” he kissed the top of your head, “you’re always playin’ with my rings, thought I’d get one that’s more fun, y’know?” He chuckled softly as you continued to mess with it.

“Oh my godddd..” you giggled, tilting your head to kiss his lips repeatedly, only pulling away because you both kept laughing.

“I’m glad you like it, baby.” He hummed, pulling you even closer to him.

“I love it.” You smiled contently against his chest.

“So, you must really love when I play with your hands, huh?”

[yandereunsolved]

Blood & Cheese Reborn - ,, yandere Aegon w/ an assassin reader

cw(s): yandere themes, child murder, mentions of sa, mention of miscarriage, descriptive gore, sadistic aegon & reader, degredation, suggestive themes (mild nsfw)

𓍢ִ໋🀦 An assassin, the assassin as some would call you. No one was truly aware of your backstory. Some said you were a disgraced general turned mercenary. Others whispered that you used to be an executioner for the kingdom and went mad, turning you into a lunatic who maims and dismembers for money. There was debate on whether you were a man or a woman—perhaps a third gender. Were you tall or short, common or noble, handsome or pretty? You were a tale that was told to children at night to scare them into behaving.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 That is exactly why Daemon Targaryen hired you. He needed you to kill Aemond Targaryen, the one-eyed prince and kinslayer. It was simply a son for a son. You were paid handsomely for this killing—over six thousand gold padded your pockets. 

You knew a thing or two about these sorts of tiffs between nobles. You had to carve some nobles' wannabe rapists eyes out the other night. You weren't being paid for it; you simply felt the need to. A rumor turned into you avenging a young, sweet noblewoman.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 The night of your perfected plans was foiled by a rival of yours. 'King' Aegon was warned about Daemon hiring you, and dozens of guards were posted at each possible entrance and exit. There was only one way to get in, and that happened to be the room in which Helaena and her children occupied. You didn't regret what you did; you relished it. You giggled as the so-called 'queen' cried out for you not to slay her son. 

You didn't just kill him; you cut off all his fingers and toes and neatly lined them up next to his favorite stuffed dragon toy. You cut off Helaena's ring finger and did the same to her daughter. You kept them and later gifted them to Daemon and Rhaenyra. It was safe to say that you soon became Team Black's most sought-after asset. 

You never agreed to work with them, never pledged your loyalty; you simply were willing to work for whoever paid you the most.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 To say Aegon was angry was an understatement. Furious? Livid? Enraged? Irate? No, there was no culmination of words that could express how much Aegon wished to have you tortured, stripped naked, and displayed on a spike at the entrance of the castle for all to see. His fantasies ranged from sadistic to depraved. They were limitless. They took up all the space in his mind that was supposed to be delegated towards comforting his grieving wife and winning the war against the Blacks.

The only thought was to have you pay. It would be you first and then the rest. It had to be you. You committed the sin, so you must pay tenfold.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 He lay awake at night with his anguish and enmity the only ones keeping him company. He refused to look at his wife's face, so he moved himself to a spare bed chamber. He spent his nights downing bottle after bottle of wine. His eyes were teary and red, and the violet within them seemingly paled to a grey. His eyebags rivaled those of any grandfather, and his thirst for revenge was much higher than that of Maegor the Cruel.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 You visited every other night. You'd taunt him gleefully and always escape before any guards arrived. You always had a cloak engulfing your figure and a hood casting shadows over your features. You always sat on the edge of the window with both legs firmly planted on the ledge. Whenever he tried to reach out to touch you, you seemed to vanish. You never even entered the chambers. He could no longer distinguish whether you were a reality or just a visage of all his guilt and wrongdoings coming to seek retribution. 

𓍢ִ໋🀦 As the moons passed, the pressure on Aegon and Helaena to copulate increased. The man who was known to fuck multiple whores a night couldn't stand to touch his wife. It wasn't just the fear of losing another kin of his; it was also a certain repulsion. Her body no longer seemed like a viable option. Her curves and supple skin seemed so unappetizing. There was no urge to lick and bite to claim; he simply wanted her to stay as she was.

Helaena acted as if she were distressed at her husband's lack of motivation, but she was internally relieved. She doesn't know if she'll ever be able to carry a child again. She is already so much more protective over Jaehaera after Jaehaerys's brutal assassination.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 His cock ached, and the fog within his mind only thickened after each drop of alcohol he consumed. He had piles of parchment ranging from displeased smallfolk to plans of war. You hadn't visited him that night, and his entire thought process was only about you. He aimlessly palmed himself through his trousers and slipped into a dreamless sleep after. 

𓍢ִ໋🀦 His revenge was only able to fuel him for so long, and now his body is spent. He hadn't seen you in his window for almost a full moon, and he had begun to think that you had moved on. His heart broke more at the thought. He would never be able to avenge the death of his beloved son. He would never be able to carry the crown on his head without it weighing his head down to the ground. The war would be won by The Blacks, and Rhaenyra would sit on the throne. His family would die, and it would all be because he was too weak.

Like a dragon, he needed warmth, and it seemed as if he had been deprived of it for far too long.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 After two moons, you finally returned with that dreadfully melodic voice of yours. One leg was thrown over the side into his bedroom, and the other perched upon the ledge. His lifeless eyes barely opened until you ignited the flame within his belly once again.

"Did the little King miss me?"

No, he did not. He was simply worried that he had missed the chance for revenge. 

"I heard you can't get your dick up for your wife. You're even more pathetic than I thought you were. You'll never have another son to replace the one I killed at this rate. Such a shame. I was looking forward to murdering that one to!"

He shot out of bed and tried to grab a hold of your cloak. He merely stumbled and fell flat on his face.

"Stupid boy, you never learn."

Like the winds you moved. One moment within his reach, and the next, halfway down the castle wall, to only the gods know where.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 He's slightly ashamed to say that's the first time he's been able to relieve himself since his son's death. He imagined how you appeared and how you would look standing over him. That smug smirk on your features, the one so evident in your voice. Cock or breasts—both, neither, either—he didn't care. He was simply too willing to be looked down upon—just so he could titter and then slaughter you.

Filled with such conflicting emotions, two beasts fought over what course of action was needed. He would have to keep you for questioning, surely. If he killed you outright, then he wouldn't have a chance to know about his opposition.

He couldn't stop biting down on his lips to suppress his noises. He couldn't help the few tears that escaped the eyes that were temporarily a vibrant violet. He whined in a manner undignified and unbecoming of a king. Your title simply falls past his swollen lips with heavy breaths. 

"Stupid fucking assassin."

"Just an insignificant assassin."

"A-Assassin."

"Mommy."

𓍢ִ໋🀦 He felt invigorated for the first time since your appearance. His thoughts became more violent, twice as lewd. No one knew what happened with him that night. No one could know. His mother interrogated him, and he simply said that he made a change. Alicent did not buy that excuse for one moment but didn't press further. As long as he got his act together and ruled like a king, she was satisfied.

She did send Ser Criston to investigate, and he came back with a gash in his chest and a wound right above his navel, courtesy of you.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 She couldn't help but rush him to the maester. She doted on him after behind closed doors. He deserved it after everything he had been through. Alicent couldn't help but feel as if it were some slight towards her. As if this assassin knew her secret, her love.

"Ser Criston, it was that damned assassin that harmed you, wasn't it?"

"Yes, my queen."

She wished to blame Aegon. The assassin never seemed to take notice of anyone else in the family after the horrific tragedy of Jaehaerys's untimely death. You only seemed to harass her eldest son. She suspected it to be Aemond, who was your original target. Why not kill him now? 

She should chastise her son for not being more vigilant. He was the second most grief striken; he pledged revenge over and over, yet the one who committed the action always escaped him without so much as a scratch. She only lectured Aegon further and spoke about how he should rekindle his relationship with Helaena.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 Aegon could barely find it in himself to bed his wife. He was nearly being forced to do so by his court and mother, but he could only look at Helaena and see your hooded figure. He had never felt more fulfilled than imagining your body was the one beneath him instead of hers.

Helaena was absent as always, her mind drifting off into thoughts of the future. She did not mind Aegon's method, but she wasn't entirely enthusiastic about being put through it.

Something felt off to her—a foreboding sensation that crept from her stomach into her soul. It made her spine tingle. Her chest would tighten to the point where she was barely able to take a breath.

It was because of a dream she recently had—a reoccurring one. Someone else was cradling the dragon egg she promised for her next child, as it seemed that she would have to perform her duty and bear another. She could tell by their hands that it was not her holding the egg. The hands had many more callouses and a multitude of scars.

She only verbalized it to a single person.

They were a kind traveler simply passing through. She knows she shouldn't have burdened a stranger; they could have been a spy, but it just felt right to do so.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 It was the first time he had slept in the same bed as his wife since the incident. So, like a predator, you struck when he was vulnerable and spent once again. He can't lie; his heart palpitated and his violet pupils dilated due to more than just the darkness. He could feel his body flushing once again after being graced with the outline of your figure standing at the edge of his room. He dared not to speak first. For a moment, he wanted to drag you into this bed instead of tying you down and beating the answers out of you.

You could see the need in his violet irises. The draconic king was ravenous and wanted to devour you. It was so endearing. You were only here for answers, as always. Daemon eagerly shoved gold into your hands so he could receive the information you collected. It was a win-win. You got to play with the king and then go undercover for answers. You even caught a kingsguard the other day, the queens plaything. Now you get to see a mama's boy with a confused libido, all because of little old you.

"Is your precious wifey full of another of your kin yet? Did you enjoy it? Did you think of me? Oh, mommy~. You're just a love-starved boy, aren't you?"

How did you know that one word escaped his lips over seven nights ago? God's damn it. He meant nothing by it. It wasn't even directed toward the assassin. It wasn't directed toward anyone! He was so drunk out of his mind that he could have said something asinine, and you would have taken it as purely sexual.

He was stunned for a moment and then refused to speak. He wouldn't give you the pleasure.

"Baby boy is mad at his mommy, or would you prefer to call me daddy? You can call me that since you don't have one of those either."

"Assassin—"

You were gone, hurriedly this time. He just barely got a glimpse of your features being shone in the moonlight. He now had another problem to take care of, all thanks to you—stupid... person.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 It had been over eleven moons since your first appearance. Many people had fallen in war and illness; there were talks of King's Landing being taken over. Helaena was with child and then miscarried due to the stress she was under. His wife is now in a deep depression, and Aegon himself is struggling to keep the crumbling greens together. 

He could no longer say that he despised you, for he found solace in your mocking words. He needed to keep you in his presence. He needed to cage you. He needed to show you who you belonged to.

What if you left him? What if you decided that he had become too much of a bore? What if you chose to—what is he thinking?

This is all part of your plan.

You won't win.

You'll end up bent over the war room table, begging to be forgiven by him.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 That's what he thinks. It's what words he may dare to spill from his lips. He had to move to a separate chamber if he was to get back at you. It was the only thing that kept him sane. The thought of finally kneading your flesh and claiming it as his. To think of whispering tantalizing words into your ear, for you to whine and come undone as he has because of you.

His goblet is almost empty as the hour of ghosts arrives. You always appear at this time, until you don't. You turn up during the hour of the wolf, weakened. You have a hand clutching your side, and your breathing is ragged. There's a trail of blood marking the edge of the window. Your gloved hand was a deep crimson, leaving the prints of your agony behind on whatever you clung to.

He's half-clothed. He feels the urge to shed the rest of the layers as soon as he lays his eyes on you. His eyes were semi-lidded, and now they are greedily taking in such a precious sight. A gift from the gods.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 You collapsed on the stone floor before him. Your features are easily accessible for his consumption. His nimble fingers slipped the hood of the cloak off your face, and he felt as if he had won the war right then and there. 

"The blacks most valuable asset laying right beneath me. Do you regret your words now, ñuha sentys₍₁₎?"

"Never."

Even your voice was hoarse, so soft and unconfident, unlike the tone you used to spit vitriolic words at him for so many moons. 

His hands were vigorously shaking. His mind began outpacing his ability to comprehend.

He had you within his grasp. What was he now going to do?

Lua ao, zȳhon byka ruarilaksa.₍₂₎

𓍢ִ໋🀦 He would later learn that there were rumors of you getting ambushed. You had come back to kill off his younger brother, and you were jumped by a group of mercenaries. He was unable to scavenge any further details of the fight, except for the fact that you became injured and still tried to follow through with your plan. Aemond stated that he saw your figure briefly. Aemond was speaking with another kingsguard at that time. Then you must have retreated to his room for some unknown reason. 

The story is strange, but considering the scarcity of true tales about you and your elusiveness, it isn't unbelievable.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 You would later be forced into some hastily thrown-together room in a secluded part of the dungeons. You awoke to the long gash in your side cleaned and bandaged, your limbs shackled, and your fine fabrics used to conceal yourself replaced with some useless, dainty nightgown. 

The dungeon room was mostly bare. There wasn't a guard to be seen, but you could hear the faint voices of at least two down the corridor. It had a cot with a blanket and a feather-filled pillow. An old rug was placed on the grimey stones. It left you with a bit of padding. The entire cell stinks of rotten flesh and broken spirits. 

You loved it.

It was the perfect place to escape from.

You just needed to heal and find some way to slip out of these chains. You could then steal a guard's uniform and get out of this horrid sleepwear.

It's so thin you can nearly your skin through the translucent cloth.

Damn king.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 You would not see him until the morrow. You broke your fast with a bowl of porridge and two slices of bread. You were given a glass of dry Arbor red wine. All the while, Aegon was staring at you with an expression you couldn't quite decipher. You weren't shy about scarfing down the food. You were irritated that he now knows of your features and perhaps others, but it wasn't the end of your career.

You have been known by many names in your years of assassinry. You have had to erase your past on numerous occasions.

It wouldn't be the first time you had to kill a king. It certainly won't be the last.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 This became a monotonous routine. Aegon would bring you your meals and you would eat them in silence. He never said a word to you. He simply stared at you, seemingly appraising you. You were still unable to tell his thoughts. You knew that he was wrapped around your finger. That much was made clear to you.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 Aegon kept every guard's mouth shut and didn't allow any of his family members to know you were down in the dungeons. They may try to kill you! Only he is allowed to decide your fate. After all, he is the true ruler of the Iron Throne.

He does suspect that Daemon and Rhaenyra will eventually notice your absence. He doesn't know the inner workings of your relationship with the Blacks, but you must be close enough to where they would become concerned.

He'd lie awake at night and think about it once again. There were so many things he could do to you that he became paralyzed by the opportunity before him.

He simply kissed his wife's head and made his way down to the dungeons once again.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 Aegon decided to do what you had been depriving him of for so long. He gives into that need for you, and you so willingly reciprocate. He gets lost in it. He almost loses his mind entirely. He can't decide whether he enjoys degrading you or being degraded by you more. 

It becomes a daily thing for him. An addiction that he doesn't wish to acknowledge or stop.

He never takes off your chains or gives you moon tea. If you miraculously bore his child, then perhaps he would let you.

Oh, it becomes a regularly occurring fantasy for him.

You bearing a male heir for him. The male heir that would replace the son you took. He would never allow you to have your child. He would raise it as if it was Helaena's. The look of anguish and the hurt in your voice to be denied the thing you created. It fills him with a crazed glee.

Perhaps you can't have kids at all, but it doesn't stop his dream of giving himself pleasure and making you suffer to the cruelest extent.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 He dresses you up in the skimpiest and frilliest things he can find. It's partially for his viewing pleasure and partially so you won't have anything to escape in. It's safe to say that it never stays on you for very long. 

Anything to remind you that you're beneath him.

Always.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 He uses you as a release for all his pent up emotions. He shares random things about himself and his day. He asks you questions about yourself and hangs onto every word you say. He no longer sees your jabs at him as hate filled; no, they've been playful and loving all along. You just wanted his attention. That's why you've done all these unforgivable things.

You're insecure.

He understands that. He needs to pay more attention to you.

So he carves his name into you with his precious dagger. He marks you in any way that pleases him; he loves to keep them fresh. He just needs to make sure that you know who you belong to. 

He doesn't want to see you getting into a tizzy and attacking him again, even if it excites him.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 Since capturing you, the progress of the opposition has slowed. He has been winning numerous battles. The Greens have gained significant ground.

Who are you, truly?

How big of a part have you really played in this civil war?

He has to know. So he goes back down to the dungeon with an even more urgent need for information. 

You're gone.

"Mittys, mittys, mittys! Eminna zirȳ arlī. Nyke'll emagon se guard's bartos bona ivestragī zirȳ henujagon!"₍₃₎

You only left a hastily scribbled note with a few barely legible words on it.

"𝘜𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨."

— 𝘈ō𝘩𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘺𝘴₍₄₎

ᝰ translation(s) ᝰ.ᐟ

1. ñuha sentys = my killer

2. Lua ao, zȳhon byka ruarilaksa. = Keep you, his little secret.

3. Mittys, mittys, mittys! Eminna zirȳ arlī. Nyke'll emagon se guard's bartos bona ivestragī zirȳ henujagon! = Idiot, idiot, idiot! I will have them back. I'll have the guard's head that let them leave/escape.

4. Aōha sentys = Your killer

𖹭 tag: ( @eexphoria ) 𖹭

[kazzattack]

make-up sex with Dick has been rotting in my mind lately :P

make up sex w/ ex bf!dick grayson… bc if i’ve noticed anything about him? he’s besties with all of his exes. like. every single one of them. he’d try to be particularly close with you because he’s not over you at all. still thinking about you 24/7, still wants to see you, definitely still wants to fuck you, all that good stuff. what’s pissing him off is that you’re sick of him. and because i’m you’re petty, you decide against blocking him just to let him know you’re choosing to see him and ignore him. you read all his stupid ass messages, he can still see your posts, and he knows you’re doing shit to piss him off. because nothing irks his soul more than being ignored, much less ignored by you. luckily enough, nothing’s stopping him from knocking on your door after texting you that he’s “coming back for his hoodie.” because duh, you kept all of those too.

you open the door against your better judgement and it’s obvious he has a few intentions once you get a good look at the flimsy tank top and sweats. “hi,” he smiles to hide the impatience in his voice.

“hi,” you respond with condescension and move to close the door in his face.

“you’re being a dick,” the smile easily fades as he catches the door with a quick hand, “just let me in.”

and against your better judgement, you do.

now he’s snooping around, and quite effectively, finding a way to dig through drawers and piles of clothes even though he’s spotted a hoodie or two out the corner of his eye. come to think of it, he’s interrogating you. asking you about that party from friday, that one guy he saw on your story, anything he can get. hell, he’ll go as far as to flash you a new pair of panties while he’s looking, asking who’re you getting all pretty for? now you’re irritated too, not giving him any of the invasive answers he’s looking for. you two go back and forth for god knows how long, all the way until he’s got you against a wall and muttering fuck you under your breath, followed by a clever remark of I thought you’d never ask.

finally, his hands are back on you. he can finally grab a hold of your face and get his tongue back down your throat after a long ass month of nothing. nothing like you, at least. “you’re such a little shit,” he groans and you laugh at him, letting him wrestle your legs around his torso and carry you to the bed. as if you could have fought against it anyway. he’s depraved of you, already groping your tits and ass after grinding his thigh into your clothed cunt. it’s almost as if he hasn’t fucked since the last time he had you. still feeling a little cruel, you tease, “those other girls just didn’t do it for you, huh?”

“there weren’t any other girls.”

“yeah right,” you force out a giggle to ignore the guilt.

“I’m serious. been waiting on you to cut the bullshit so I could fuck this cunt again.” his hand’s already eased under the waistband of your shorts to circle your clit and you moan right into his ear. “don’t need any other girl when i’ve got a whore right here, just for me, right?”

he sucks a hickey into the underside of your breast before flipping you over, seemingly back to his regular self. you’re easily repositioned face down and ass up, helping him pull your shorts all the way down. fuck, you missed him. the way he palms your ass and forces you against his cock, debating on whether he should really fuck you or just hump you til you’re begging for his cock and he’s coming in his boxers.

“already fucking me back,” he moans from behind you and it’s brought to your attention that you’re the one grinding on his dick through fabric. you can’t bring yourself to be ashamed of it though, keening when the next time you feel him there’s no barrier between you and the tip of his cock is slipping into your pussy. normally he’d be all sensual, rub at your cunt til it’s all messy and leaking before fucking you, but this time around it’s like he has no time for it. he’d rather force the arch in your back further into the mattress and fuck you full, have you whine into the pillows and beg for more of his cum like he knows you want to.

“still want me to get out?” he’s muttering into your ear after pulling your hair, knowing by now you’re too fucked out to give him some smart-ass remark. all you can give him are those whorish moans he hasn’t heard for so long as you cum on his cock for the third time. he’s skipped the theatrics he loves to fuck you deep and give you a good reminder that this is what you broke up with.

[drdemonprince]

At one point he was down in between my legs, fingering me, and he made a throwaway comment about probably being Autistic. 

I leaned back, trying to relish what pleasure I was getting. “Well, we can talk about that subject, if you like,” I said vaguely, not really wanting to bring my professional life into things. 

He kept working away at my body, kissing between my lips and thighs. “Oh I know who you are,” he said suddenly. “Your book changed my life. In a way, I guess this is me thanking you.” 

I made him exit my body and we went to the kitchen to hash it out. It turned out he was a big fan of many things I’d written. 

“I’ve seen you around the neighborhood many times,” he confessed. “But you posted online that you don’t like when people come up to you, and so I always decided to leave you alone.” 

He said, “Your book is the reason I got divorced, actually. My ex-husband was a therapist, and when I showed him your book and said I thought I might be Autistic, he didn’t believe me. We have been separated for a year.” 

He asked, “Did I just make this weird, telling you when I did that I was a fan?” I told him that if he’d said it sooner, I would have never fucked him at all. 

People never realize that when they approach me, what they are doing is dragging me into work. It doesn’t matter whether I was at breakfast, or an orgy. I was just some guy standing there, enjoying his beer, but now they have made me the known scholar and author. And sure, my job might be meaningful, but that doesn’t mean I like to work. 

I tell my friend that I no longer want to be a public figure, and that I am planning how to make it all end. She tells me, “You’ve got to do what is the best for you, even if it’s something that the rest of us wants and can’t imagine giving up.” 

I ask myself, did I want this? It would be more flattering to say I didn’t, and play the role of the hermetic author whose work developed its own life purely because it was so good. But that isn’t true. 

From the moment I got a Myspace account in high school, I was publishing essays about my political views. I serialized multiple novels on Tumblr, guerilla marketing them with giveaways and custom-made images until they hit the Kindle sales charts. I have made memes, tried starting viral trends, coined phrases, and given hundreds of hours’ worth of media interviews. I write prescriptive nonfiction, for Christ’s sake. Of course people seek guidance from me. I offer it up! 

I have been strategic about how I dress, and my video backdrops, and retaken clips of myself speaking over and over again until they sounded right. I’ve hosted debates with my most vicious critics while I’m in the shower, started public beef with creators who had larger accounts than I did, and rushed to my keyboard when upsetting news broke, because I alone was possessed of the most correct take on it.

I wanted this. I didn’t know what this was, this internet fame I was chasing, but I did all I could to make it mine. I thought that by writing so much, I would one day be able to escape myself, maybe really feel connected to other people. Instead it has meant never being able to stop thinking about myself: how I am seen, what I am working on, how it all fits together, what comes next. It has also meant being spoken about, theorized about, and criticized, and developing a firm exoskeleton of disdain between myself and the world. 

I believe now that that it is immoral for any person to be listened to by ninety thousand other people. Holding authority and status like that runs counter to my anarchic ideals. I am not more important or correct than anyone. I should not be trusted to tell people which commodities to buy, which companies not to support, what to read, what to think, what words to use, or how to conduct their lives. 

All the other animals know there is no one way that a creature “should” live. There is only the way that it does. The world has no consciousness, no beliefs. It cannot pass judgment. We only feel so watched and evaluated because we have covered the planet with so many millions of our eyes. But we can stop performing dignified human goodness at any moment. 

I think that celebrity is an evil, corrupting force that pits the human instinct for bonding against itself. Instead of appreciating the singing of our friends around the fire, we stream Chappell Roan until stalkers break into her house. Rather than playing card games together, we stan Twitch streamers, filling up their chats with highlighted messages until they acknowledge us. We long to be famous novelists because then we would have the social permission to write, and we don’t have the money or time to enjoy the activity on its own. 

I wrote about Chappell Roan, stalker stans, and how turning art into content creation ruins the work, and the creator's life. It's free to read in full (or have narrated to you by the app!) on Substack.

[goblinontour]

Daddy Came Home

and you’ll gladly break your heart for him

series masterlist | part 2

warnings: soft!dom!alex, smut, piv, daddy kink, br33ding kink, you know how it goes…

word count: 3.7k

London, 2022

You were surprised to see his name pop up on your phone. You hadn’t talked in a while, really talked. It felt like forever. But now he called you up. You didn’t get to it in time, but he left a voicemail, asking to see you. He told you he had a break from the tour for a couple of weeks and he would be in town.

Did he think you were going to get into bed with him again so easily? Well, truth be told, you probably would. It had never gotten serious between you. You’d just fuck whenever he felt like it or whenever you felt like it, regardless of whether you two were in separate relationships or not. Maybe it wasn’t right. Probably wasn’t. Definitely wasn’t. But it didn’t stop you before, and it wasn’t going to stop you now.

Not that you had a boyfriend at the moment, but you suspected he had a girlfriend. Yes, you kept up with him. You were curious to see what he was up to. But if he was calling you, then that meant that the so-called relationship he was in wasn’t serious. Or not that serious. He wouldn’t ask to see you otherwise, would he? Maybe he didn’t want to fuck. But what else would he want from you?

The last time you saw him, it had been one of those rare nights when the city felt more alive than ever. 

His hair was still short back then, compared to the more recent pics you’d seen of him, though not as short as the fresh buzz cut he had when you first met. You’d spent hours just talking and laughing, almost forgetting the physical aspect of your relationship. Almost. But by the end of the night, the familiar pull was too strong to resist. It always was. The tiniest touch of his hand on your arm was all it took for you to get him to fuck you in the bathroom of the bar.

You wondered if this time would be any different. As you debated whether to call him back, your mind wandered to all the times you’d spent together. The whispered secrets, the things he’d tell you when he was just drunk enough that you knew no one else could ever find out about. 

But there was always that unspoken understanding. No strings attached. No commitments. Just a series of fleeting moments that left you both satisfied and yet somehow always wanting more.

You sighed, staring at his name on your screen. What was it about him that made it so hard to say no? Maybe it was the way he looked at you, how it made you feel like you were the only person in the world that mattered. Or maybe it was the way he could make you laugh, even when you felt like crying. Or maybe just the way he fucked you. Whatever it was, it was enough to make you consider seeing him again. Even after not hearing from him for years now. 

Taking a deep breath, you pressed the call button and waited as the phone rang. He picked up on the second ring.

“Hey.” he said, his voice smooth and so familiar, like nothing had changed and no time had passed. 

“Hey.” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I’m in town.” he said. “Don’t know if you got my message.”

“Got it.”

“So, what do you say? I know you miss me.”

“What makes you think so?” you shot back.

“You called back.”

You could almost see the smirk on his face, and it was infuriating, but he was right.

“So, lunch? Tomorrow?” he asked again.

You hesitated for a moment, but then you smiled to yourself. You were so weak when it came to him. “Yeah, I'd like that. Where?”

“Perfect. I wanna try that place you keep posting about. The one you say has the best wine.”

“Have you been stalking me?” you asked, half-joking.

“No, not stalking. Just keeping myself updated, so to speak.” he replied smoothly.

“You don’t even like wine.”

“I know I don’t, but you do.” he said, his voice carrying that familiar warmth.

You couldn't help but smile at his response, a small part of you touched that he remembered the detail. “Alright. Noon?”

“Noon it is.” he confirmed.

As you hung up the phone, you felt a mixture of excitement and apprehension. You thought about it again. Noon. It was weird that he was just fine with that. Noon wasn’t really giving ‘I’m gonna fuck you in the car after we eat’ vibes. Noon was giving lunch with a friend or a casual date, not the usual hookups you were used to with him.

Maybe he really did just want to catch up, you mused. Maybe this time would be different. Maybe this time, you’d figure out what it was you really wanted from each other. Or maybe you’d just end up right back where you started.

The next day, you arrived at the place you decided upon a few minutes early. You were never late. He often was. But hopefully he wouldn’t take too long today. You chose a table outside, guessing he probably still smoked.

As you waited, you couldn’t help but glance around. It was a place you’d often visited with friends. Seeing it now, with the prospect of seeing him again, made it feel different. There was a charged energy in the air, a mix of anticipation and maybe even some nostalgia.

When he finally walked into your view, you looked up and your breath caught. He looked effortlessly cool, as always, with his slightly tousled hair. Sharp lines. Head to toe. His jeans were tight on his thighs but flowed into a slight flare the lower you looked. Sunglasses propped on his nose, as always. His aviators were the only thing obstructing your view. You couldn’t see his eyes, but he noticed you staring at him. He didn’t say anything, though. He was doing the same thing.

He approached the table with that familiar swagger, a half-smile playing on his lips. “Hey.” he said, sliding into the seat across from you.

“Hey.” you replied, your voice catching slightly. “Glad you could make it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it, I was the one who invited you, after all.” he said, removing his sunglasses and setting them on the table. His eyes finally met yours, and you felt that familiar jolt. It was as if no time had passed at all.

You both ordered drinks, falling into an easy conversation about the city, your friends, and his latest tour adventures. 

As you two glanced over the menu for something to eat, he asked, “Any recommendations? What should I get?”

You pointed out a few of your favourites, but he seemed pretty set on ordering a burger. “It’s nothing special.” you warned him, but he insisted, so you let him be.

When the second round of drinks arrived, you sipped on your wine as he drank his beer. The conversation flowed effortlessly, but your attention kept drifting back to him. The way he moved, the sound of his voice, the little details you had missed.

Eventually, the food arrived. You watched as he made a mess of himself with the stupid burger, the grease and juices dripping down his fingers and hands. Despite the mess, there was something undeniably arousing about the way he licked his fingers clean. He noticed the way you were staring. He knew. And it was like he was doing it on purpose at this point.

Determined not to be the only one affected, you decided to taunt him too. You grabbed his beer bottle, wrapping your lips around the neck and taking a sip, slowly, looking him straight in the eyes. He knew very well what you were hinting at.

“Cheeky.” he said, grabbing a napkin to properly clean himself.

“Not my fault you’ve been neglecting me for years. Thought you forgot about me.” you shot back.

“Are you saying you haven’t had sex since I last saw you?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Never said that.”

“So, you’re just saying that no one fucked you like I do then?”

“Didn’t say that either.”

“Mhm, if you say so.”

“You’re such an ass.”

“Look, I know my arse is big, but it’s not my only feature.” he joked, easing the slight tension with a grin.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here we are.” he said, leaning back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours.

There was a charged silence between you, the air thick with the unspoken knowledge of what was bound to happen eventually. Despite your best efforts to keep things light, the familiar pull was undeniable. You both knew where this was heading, but for now, you were content to let the moment stretch, savouring the connection that had never really faded.

As the afternoon wore on, you found yourselves lingering at the table, reluctant to let the moment end. It felt like a tentative truce. Watching the other tables become vacant only for another group to occupy them, while you stayed there, in your spots. 

He lit a cigarette at one point, when another round of drinks arrived. You’d lost count. You watched as he took a drag and blew the smoke away from you. He still had his manners in that regard. “You still don’t mind, right?” he asked with a smirk.

“I don’t, but thanks for being so considerate.” you said, rolling your eyes but smiling nonetheless.

“I’m glad you came.” he said, his tone softening. “I’ve missed this. Missed you.”

You looked at him, studying his face. There was something different in his expression, something deeper and more reflective than before. As he leaned back in his chair, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu. It was like every other time, yet something felt different. Maybe it was just you, hoping for something more, something deeper. You took a moment to bring yourself back to reality. You couldn’t let yourself fall for him now just because he looked at you slightly differently. 

“Does your girlfriend know you’re here?” you asked, though you knew the answer.

“No. Is that a problem?”

“Is it?”

“No, I don’t think so.” he responded, stretching his arm to reach the ashtray in the middle of the table, getting rid of the burnt bits gathering at the end of his cigarette.

“I’ve missed you too.” you admitted, the honesty surprising even yourself.

“This place is nice.” he said, looking around at the lights that lit up with the sun starting to set.

“Are we gonna get to the point of this soon?”

“There’s no point. I wanted to see you.”

“In your bed, maybe.” you said.

“And preferably naked.” he joked, stubbing out the rest of the cigarette and waving at the waiter for the check.

You laughed, shaking your head at his bluntness. “You never change.”

“Would you want me to?” he asked, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

“Sometimes.” you admitted quietly. “But then again, sometimes not.”

He nodded, understanding the complexity of your feelings without needing further explanation. The waiter arrived with the check, and he quickly settled it, leaving a generous tip.

As you both stood up to leave, he placed a hand on your back, guiding you along the way. The contact was electrifying, a reminder of how easily he could affect you, and you knew, despite your best intentions, that you were already in too deep. 

You walked down the street together, the conversation light and easy, but the underlying tension palpable.

“So, where to now?” he asked, glancing over at you.

“Your place?” you suggested, the words coming out before you could second-guess yourself.

He smiled, a mix of relief and anticipation in his eyes. “Sounds perfect.”

The walk to his house was a blur, the anticipation building with each step. When you finally arrived, he unlocked the door and held it open for you, his eyes never leaving yours. Inside, the familiarity of his place hit you. Little details that reminded you of past encounters, shared moments, and unspoken drunken promises you both pretended never happened. 

He closed the door behind you, and you turned to face him, the air between you thick with tension. “So, no point to this, huh?” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He stepped closer, his hands finding your waist. “No point.” he agreed, his lips brushing against your ear. “Just missed you.”

You tilted your head back, meeting his gaze. “Show me.” you challenged, your heart pounding in your chest.

His response was immediate, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both slow and desperate. He was kissing you as if he was trying to relearn the shape of your lips and how they fit together with his. Eventually, he nudged you with his tongue, asking for your permission, which you gave immediately. You hadn’t realised just how much you missed his taste until now when you felt it again spreading inside your mouth.

He led you to the bedroom, his lips only leaving yours for maybe two seconds at a time to catch his breath and take a glance, making sure you wouldn’t bump your head into a wall or something. But your body remembered the way perfectly. Clothes began shedding, his boots lost along the way wherever he’d kicked them off.

“I’m gonna fuck you.” he said, lips trailing down your neck to one of your shoulders.

“Yeah.” you breathed out.

“I’m gonna fuck you hard.” he paused, biting your flesh and holding it between his teeth until it stung, before letting it go. “I’m gonna make you remember I’m the best.”

“Mhmmm.” you murmured.

Weak. So weak. So fucking weak for him already.

He pushed you onto the bed, his hands rough, just as you remembered them, as they roamed over your body, exploring and rediscovering every inch of you. You felt his weight settle over you, his presence overwhelming and intoxicating. He kissed his way down your body, taking his time, his breath hot against your skin.

He flipped you over, grabbing your hips and lifting them up, positioning you just how he wanted. He had a thing for fucking you from behind. He’d told you once how it helped him not fall for you too hard, but that was one of the drunk conversations you both chose to ignore the next day.

He teased you for a while longer, bending down to pull you apart with his fingers. You felt exposed, so utterly exposed to him, even though it wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before. Thank God for the alcohol that helped ease your nerves. You felt his breath on your pussy as his mouth lingered close. You wondered if he was actually gonna touch you or not. But he just spit on you, the cold saliva hitting you, taking you by surprise.

He quickly repositioned himself and slid inside you fully in one stroke.

“Fuck.” you moaned.

He felt bigger than you remembered. Or maybe you just weren’t used to him anymore. There was a period when you’d fuck so often your pussy practically got molded to his shape inside. Now, every inch of him stretched you in a way that felt both painful and blissful, filling you completely.

He set a steady, relentless rhythm, his grip on your hips firm and possessive. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making you gasp and moan uncontrollably. You clung to the sheets, trying to steady yourself against the onslaught of sensations he set upon you. 

“Remember this.” he whispered, his voice a low growl in your ear as he leaned down, his chest pressing against your back, and he nipped at your shoulder while thrusting into you with a force that made you cry out, 

“Yes, daddy.” you managed to gasp, your mind swimming in the intensity of the moment.

You didn't even realize what you just said, too fucked out and drunk on his cock to think about it. He paused, his movements slowing to a stop.

“What did you just say?” he asked, pulling out and flipping you around swiftly so he could look at you. His eyes bored into yours. You would’ve expected a tinge of amusement. But it was like you pressed a button that turned him on more than you’d ever seen. Primal.

“Yes.” you repeated, pausing just to see his reaction. “Daddy.”

“Call me daddy again if you want me to make you come.” he ordered, playfully teasing you by slapping his cock on your clit repeatedly and nudging your entrance but not slipping back in.

“Please fuck me, daddy.” you pleaded, your voice breathless and desperate.

“Good. I want you to think about this every time you try to forget me.” he said, pushing back inside you and motioning for you to wrap your legs around his waist. His rhythm resumed, each thrust deeper and more forceful than the last, driving you to the brink.

You obeyed, wrapping your legs around him, locking your ankles behind his back. The new angle intensified everything, and your nails dug into his shoulders as he began to thrust again, even deeper and even harder. Your body arched in response to the exquisite pleasure he was giving you. His words echoed in your mind, branding themselves into your memory with every movement, every sensation, ensuring that you would never be able to forget this moment, or him.

“Harder, daddy.” you whimpered, the word slipping from your lips as if it were the only thing you knew how to say anymore. 

His eyes darkened with satisfaction at your submission. “That’s it.” he murmured, his voice a rough caress. “Let me hear you.”

Each powerful stroke drove you closer to the edge, your body responding eagerly to his commands. The pressure built within you, coiling tight and hot, until it was all you could focus on. Your breath came in short, desperate pants as you felt yourself teetering on the brink of release.

“I’m gonna fill you.” he groaned, his voice thick with lust. “I’m gonna fill you up with my cum. And then I’m gonna fuck you again.”

He pressed his hand firmly on your stomach, right where you could feel the deep intrusion every time he thrust into you. “Can you feel me inside you?” he asked, his breath hot against your ear.

You nodded frantically, unable to form words, the intensity of his touch and words amplifying your need. 

“I’m gonna fuck you until you’re full of me.” he declared, his voice a low, commanding growl. His movements became even more urgent, pushing you toward the edge as his hand continued to press on your stomach, emphasising just how deep he was inside you.

He knew exactly how to push you to the brink, keeping you there until you were desperate for release.

“You wanna come?” he asked, as if the answer wasn’t obvious. 

“Please.” you begged

He slid his hand lower between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing in tight circles. The combined sensations of his thrusts and his touch sent you spiralling, your orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you trembling.

“Fuck, yes.” he groaned, feeling you clench around him.

He increased his pace, chasing his own release. The room was filled with the sounds of your ragged breaths and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin. He wasn’t far behind, his movements becoming erratic before he let out a guttural groan, his body shuddering with release. You felt him tense and he buried himself deep inside you, groaning as he came.

He only stopped for a few seconds before starting to move inside you again. You knew it wouldn’t last long. He was growing tired from the position, and you were starting to feel sore from the sheer intensity with which he fucked you. 

Everything was wet. You could hear the sound of his cum getting fucked back into you, each thrust squelching with the evidence of his release.

His movements became more frantic, more desperate, until he came again. It was weaker this time, but the feeling of him filling you up again drove you over the edge, your legs trembling and falling to the side.

“Full.” he whispered as he collapsed on top of you, gathering the strength to move.

When he felt capable, he pulled out, sliding down on the bed and using his fingers to try and push everything back inside you. There was so much, too much to not drip out, but he pushed his fingers as deep inside you as he could, giving your pussy a light slap before he collapsed back on the bed, this time next to you.

For a moment, you both stayed like that, just staring up at the ceiling as you tried to your breaths. The room felt heavy with the weight of what had just happened. It didn’t feel like a random fuck. Not when he was saying stuff like that. And you weren’t sure you could just ignore it. 

He turned to you, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch surprisingly tender. “Missed you.” he said again, his voice softer now.

You turned to look at him, searching his eyes for any hint of what he truly felt. But as always, he was an enigma, his feelings hidden behind a carefully crafted facade. You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you just nodded, your heart still racing. 

It was always like this with him. Intense, consuming, and leaving you wanting more, even when you knew you shouldn’t. You knew deep down that this wouldn’t change anything, that tomorrow you’d both go back to pretending this never happened. 

a/n: sequel to ‘Dublin In Ecstasy’

based on this request

this just flowed so well i don’t know how it happened. i didn’t know how to start it at forst but i had some notes about the whole burger scene from last year and then it just kept going. kinda like how it turned out, missed a bit of dom!al

tags: @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @aacheinthejaw @zayndrider @humbuginmybones @tedioepica

[ari-freeworld]

'*•♡Finding Space In Your Heart ♡•*'

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01 - Unexpected offers

Pairing - Biker/Roommate!Bakugou x Fem!Reader

An - After debating whether or not to post this, I decided to just go for it! I’m excited to share my very first published fic with you all. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, let me know what you think! XO

Summary - After Kirishima moves in with his girlfriend, Mina, Bakugou finds himself in need of a new roommate. He’s on the hunt for someone who can tolerate his loud (and expensive) Ducati, his odd hours at the mechanic shop, and who is fairly tidy and able to pay their share of the rent. After having no luck finding the right person, his long-time friends Mina and Kirishima suggest an old friend of Mina's—enter you, a young professional writer looking for a place to live during your partnership with a publishing company.

Notes/warnings - Qurikless AU, aged up characters, drinking and smoking mentioned. Inappropriate language (its bkg duh) Slow build up (eventual smut).

wrds - 1.9k

02 , 03

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"Hello, earth to y/n!" A hand waved over your face, pulling you from your trance.

"Sorry, Mina," you said, stirring your milkshake with your straw.

You were sitting in Mina's local diner, catching up and drinking milkshakes—a monthly ritual you both had kept since your teen years. However, this particular meeting had been long overdue since Mina and her boyfriend, Kirishima, had been busy these last few months with their big move.

"What's bugging you?" Mina asked. Your friendship with her was a strong one, now going on eight years since you met in a softball little league at the age of fifteen. Ever since then, she had been your rock and you hers.

You didn't want to dampen the mood with your issues, especially when you were supposed to be celebrating her move. However, your current situation had you stressed for a couple of weeks now.

You had received astonishing news a few weeks ago: an offer from a publishing company you'd been dreaming of working with for a while. They would love to work with you on your book. It was the perfect opportunity, but life had thrown you a curveball. The company expected you to relocate within the next month, or they would reselect someone who could. All the places you’d looked at were way over your budget, and you didn't want to depend on your parents right after moving out from their place.

You sighed, "I've been having trouble with the new job."

"What!? Did they decide they didn't want you anymore? Those pricks!" Mina slammed her milkshake on the table, shooting a couple of drops of whipped cream onto her lap.

"No, no, it isn't that," you sighed again. "It's just that they want me to move closer to the site, and I'm getting nervous because I can't find a place yet."

"Well, why don't you stay with me and Kiri? We wouldn't mind giving you the spare room for as long as you need." You could tell she was serious. Bless her heart.

"I literally could not do that. After all, you and Kiri have been waiting for the chance to move in together, and I don't want to ruin that for you."

"Why not? It would be fun! Plus, you wouldn’t be a bother."

"I appreciate the offer, Mina, but I don't want to intrude." Maybe you'll just have to make the three-hour drive there and back every day, you thought to yourself.

"Gosh, y/n, you're so stubborn. The offer will stand indefinitely." She's such a good friend; you couldn't possibly burden her and Kiri. More like you won't.

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"Fuck," Bakugou exhaled, wiping the grease and dirt off his hands with his white tank top.

"Hey, Bakugou! Are you closing up soon? It's late," Kiri entered from the semi-closed garage door after helping out their last customer for the day.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm just fucking replacing my bike's stupid-ass engine oil." Kiri could tell something was bothering Bakugou. He'd been trying to get it out of him all day. He hated seeing his friend this way: walking around with tense shoulders, snapping at people. He even drove away a customer this morning with his attitude.

"Dude, what's up with you today?" Kiri asked. "You've been... pissy."

Bakugou glared at Kiri, then sat on the stool by his raised bike. "I can't find a fucking roommate," he quietly admitted.

"Shit, man. I'm sorry about dumping the move on you." Kiri moved to lean on the large tool cabinet. "I could always help you pay for this month to help out."

"Don't be a dumbass." Bakugou ran his hand through his blonde locks, moving the parts stuck to his sweaty forehead from his face. "You're basically moved out; you would just be paying my rent for me."

Kirishima pondered for a moment, trying to think of some way to help his friend. Then suddenly, he remembered what Mina mentioned the other day.

"Wait! This is perfect. I just remembered!" Kiri stood up straight. "Mina's friend, y/n!"

"Who?" Bakugou asked, uninterested.

"You know y/n. I've spoken about her before. She's actually looking for a place but couldn't find any within her budget!"

"A girl?! I can't move in with some random chick!" Bakugou was surprised Kirishima would even suggest that.

"You have to meet her! She would be the perfect roommate for you. She's reserved and, from what Mina's said, a really good person!"

"Yeah, no fucking thanks." Bakugou got up to pack things up and close the shop.

Kirishima, on the other hand, did not care about what Bakugou said and proceeded to text his girlfriend, trying to come up with a plan to get them to meet.

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Later that evening, Kiri and Mina's plan was in full swing. You were getting ready to meet Mina and some of Kiri's friends at a downtown bar. Unbeknownst to you, this was no ordinary hangout—there was a secret agenda at play.

Now here you were, about to enter some random bar, planning to have a stress-free night filled with fun before returning to reality tomorrow.

As you opened the bar door, the smell of cigarettes, greasy food, and alcohol hit your nose. You weren't too big on partying or getting drunk; Mina, on the other hand, was a pure party animal through and through. You often found yourself tagging along on outings like these, so it wasn't going to be a peculiar evening—or so you thought.

"Y/n! Over here!" You saw Mina practically jumping out of her seat, waving to get your attention. Making your way over, you glanced at everyone else seated in the booth. Familiar faces you'd seen at past hangouts.

"Hey, guys!" You stood in front of the table, and seated from left to right were Sero, Denki, Kirishima, and, of course, Mina. It seemed like there was someone missing who had been seated between Denki and Kirishima. Mina's face was dusty with a pink hue; you guessed she had probably had a few drinks before your arrival.

"You're just in time. We just sent Bakugou to get the shots!" she mentioned, looking past you towards the bar.

Bakugou. You felt like you remembered Kirishima mentioning him before.

"Here are your fucking drinks, assholes," you heard a deep, slightly raspy voice speak from behind you.

You turned and immediately faced someone's chest, holding a small tray of filled shot glasses and lime slices. Glancing up, you saw a man standing at a good six feet and three or four inches. His attention was focused on his friends, but he glanced down at you, and your eyes met.

Getting a better look at him, you noticed his very stocky build and his beautiful features. His eyes were a shade of red—not like blood, but the color you see during a sunset. His hair was blond and spiky but looked soft to the touch. You snuck a quick glance at his lips, which were soft and plump.

Bakugou's eyes had been latched onto yours since he faced you. Such a pretty, delicate face, he thought. His eyes ran up and down your body but quickly returned to Kirishima once he realized who you were.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Shitty Hair?" Bakugou's voice was loud but not louder than the music filling the bar. You glanced back at Mina, confused, and she gave you a cheeky smile.

Some hours later, after drinking with your friends, you found yourself sitting right next to Bakugou, practically on his lap due to the overstuffed booth. Mina took the time to explain that he was searching for a roommate and, since you were having trouble, you could move in with him instead of on your own. Hence, the orchestrated meeting.

You noticed his cedarwood smell, almost overwhelming your senses. You picked up on smaller notes of leather and coconut. The silence between you was a little awkward now that you both understood the situation. Your friends were having their own drunken conversations, but Mina was secretly peeping glances at you, hoping you and Bakugou would help each other out.

"I'm sorry Mina put you up to this. I didn't know," you decided to break the silence, speaking without facing him. If you turned, your faces would be inches apart. He side-eyed you, sitting with his body slightly leaned on the cushion of the shared booth. He scoffed.

"S'not your fuckin' fault. They put you up to this," his words sounded harsh, but his delivery was rather soft. From what Mina said about him before, he sounded like an overly aggressive guy.

"So, you're looking for a roommate?"

"Yeah, Shitty Hair decided to move out and in with Pinky," you chuckled at his nicknames for them.

"Yeah, no wonder that area is hard to afford on your own," you sighed, crossing your arms on the table.

"You looking for a place?"

"Kinda? I don't know. I got this job offer, but I don't think I can accept it if I don't find a place I can afford soon." You sounded worried, hoping it wasn't detectable in your voice.

"Hm," he gave a sound of acknowledgment. He watched you stand, his eyes running down your body again, this time much slower, drinking in your curves. He had been watching you all night, more like observing. Yes, he found you pretty, but meeting you was interesting to him. He didn’t know if it was because he hadn't felt a woman’s warmth for a year now and was craving it, or if he just liked the way you laughed with your friends and the way the dim lights made your skin glow.

"I'll be back," you said, the drinking giving you a buzz, and you couldn't stop yourself from overthinking again. Getting up from your seat, you squeezed past Bakugou, Denki, and Sero, heading to the door. You needed air.

Letting the nightly breeze hit your face, you pulled out your phone, thinking about calling your mom to vent your troubles. She and your dad had been away visiting family, letting you have the place to yourself. You couldn't bring yourself to tell them about the job before they left because you knew they would offer to pay for your place instantly, which was the last thing you wanted. So you settled for the cigarette in your purse that Sero had handed you earlier.

Lighting it, you inhaled and exhaled, hating the taste but finding it brought some comfort, like your worries were drifting away with the smoke.

"Disgusting habit," someone spit out. You turned to face them, instantly putting it out.

"Oh, I know. I don't smoke often, but this night called for one," you faced Bakugou, now out of the cramped bar. His figure stood a little taller and more comfortable. He walked up beside you, his scent hitting a little harder as the breeze carried it right to your nose. His clothes were black and casual, but you couldn't help but notice the tightness of his t-shirt.

Man, am I buzzed, you thought to yourself.

The silence now that you were alone was comforting. "If it's beating you up that fucking badly, I wouldn't mind," he said. You snapped your head towards him quickly.

"It would help both of us out," he continued. "You'd be saving me the trouble of finding some asshole roommate."

"Really...?" you searched his eyes for an answer. "You wouldn't mind?"

"How 'bout this: come look at the place with me now," he leaned close, his body looming above you. "And you let me know, princess."

Bakugou thought to himself, maybe he wouldn’t mind having a girl for a roommate. Regardless, he knew he certainly wouldn’t mind having you as one.

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Hope you enjoyed! Planning on releasing more parts soon <3

Btw lmk if you want to be added to the tag list :)

[moonywritez6]

Late Night Pleasures (Reupload)

Character: Roronoa Zoro

Reader: Female Reader

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, male masturbation, harsh language

Prompt: Zoro is trying his best to be quiet while the reader sleeps.

Wc: 724

A/N: Hello my sweets! Unfortunately, I got locked out of my old blog account, so I had to make a new one! So, chances of you having seen this before are high as it's on my old account! (I am so sad about it honestly). But I am going through all my old accounts posts and reuploading them here! I hope you can still enjoy my works!

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Zoro groaned as he awoke from his dreams due to the night's heat. He let out a deep sigh as he turned on his side, his eye landing on your sleeping form. Zoro felt a slight smile tug at the corner of his lip as he carefully brushed a few strands of hair out of your face, freezing when you stirred a bit, thinking he had woken you. As he took in the sight of you, the swordsman couldn't help it as his gaze kept landing on your exposed cleavage due to the tank top you wore, thanks to this ridiculous heat. He swallows, taking in how some sweat seems to glisten on the plump skin from the bit of moonlight that shines into the dark room. The flesh slowly rose and sank with each quiet breath you took. His eye soon lands on the marks he had left on your neck from earlier that night, causing him to bite his lip as he feels the tent in his pants rise.

"Shit." Zoro cursed as he slowly sat on the bed, staring at his newly formed erection. He glances from you to his pants, debating whether he wants to wake you up or take care of it himself. “Oi Y/n…” He whispers gently, shaking your arm. You let out a small whine, face scrunching up from the sudden movement. Feeling bad, your boyfriend gives up on waking you up, cursing again as he clenches his jaw. Without another thought, Zoro pulls his throbbing cock out from his pants, hissing slightly as the tip hides his stomach. Zoro glances at your sleeping figure before wrapping a calloused hand around the sensitive flesh. "Mm." He grunts slowly, moving his hand up and down, eventually getting a good rhythm.

"Fuck." He moans, feeling more turned on than usual, most likely due to the heat. He leans back, placing his free hand behind him for stability as he jerks himself off. He tosses his head back, eyes closed as he bites his lip, not wanting to have you wake up to him doing something indecent. 'But what if she did catch me?' That thought crossed his mind causing his cock to twitch in his hand that moved faster, finding the thought of you catching him exciting. He starts to picture what kind of reaction you would have. Zoro clenches his jaw as a few moans slip past his lips. "Fuck…Y/n." He moans before seeing your body shift as you become more comfortable. 'Wake up baby…I want you to see me.' The swordsman could feel himself getting closer to his orgasm as he tossed his head back, memories of your earlier activities flooding his mind, causing him to open his mouth, but no sound came out. The filthy noises echoing off the walls drove him crazy. "Fuck Y/n! Shit baby fuck!" He silently cursed as his eye rolled to the back of his head, strings of cum shooting out from his red tip and onto his fist, coating it in white.

Zoro sat there momentarily, his breathing slowing as he descended from his high. He looked down at his sin-covered hand, letting out a small grunt before grabbing a rag on his nightside table and lazily wiping his cum off before laying back down to face you. He smirks while gently cupping your cheek. You hum, your eyes barely opening as you see your boyfriend staring at you with love filling his eye. "Zoro?" You whispered, voice slightly horse from having just woken up. "Shh. Go back to sleep, Y/n. It's still too early to be getting up." Zoro whispered while stroking your cheek with the hand previously covered by his lewd act moments ago. You hum, looking at him with glossy eyes as he brushes his thumb across your lips.

Without thinking, you open your mouth lightly, sucking on his thumb as you close your eyes. Zoro stiffened before lust clouded his vision as he watched your innocent act, excited that you had no idea what had been covering that digit. “Dammit Y/n…” He cursed, feeling himself getting hard again. Seeing that you were asleep again, Zoro sat up slightly as he leaned closer to your ear, a low growl leaving his lips as he whispered his next few words.

"When you wake up, I'm going to destroy you."