#i know for a fact that i will be more casually active on my side hetalia blog

[kitten4sannie]

ᴋɪꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴇʟʟ

ᴘᴇʀᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴏɴ/ᴘʀᴀɪꜱᴇ ➠ ʏᴜɴɢɪ

pairing: bf! mingi x gf! reader x roommate! yunho

genre: smut

summary: there’s something irresistible about your boyfriend’s roommate.

w.c: 3k

warnings: established poly relationship, switch! mingi + reader, dom! yunho, lots of perverted activities going on (panty sniffing for one…), voyeurism/exhibitionism, mxm, mostly pet names + praise <33, glasses kink idk i really like glasses if you couldn’t tell,, a tiny amount of false praise/name calling, kissing (including a three way kiss 🫣), manhandling, instruction giving, masturbation, oral (receiving), cum eating/swapping, cockwarming, dp in one hole, brief tit play, bulge kink, breeding kink, squirting, creampies

a/n: DON’T YOU LOOK AT ME 🫵🏼 i had to write this okayyy it was the only way to quell the brainworms uwu esp after that dance challenge yuyu posted ohmygodohmfhwwh and migiii GRRRRRRRR BARK anyways, i’ll return to my enclosure now 😔 if you enjoyed plz lemme know~~

song rec: kiss & tell by ethan low + gen neo

ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

It only took a week of dating your boyfriend to know that he had a special relationship with his roommate. The both of them could deny it all they wanted, but you weren’t blind. You didn’t even mind it, either — in fact, it intrigued you. The more the merrier, after all. Now that you had just moved in with them, you expected to see it first hand, but you would come to realize that there was a lot more to the story — and you were a major part of it. 

“All we did was jerk off together, Y/N, it was one time, maybe two…” Mingi explained to you over the sound of running water, as if that even helped his case, handing you the plastic plate he had just washed. 

“Riiight, and I only scissored my bestie once or twice, right after the group orgy,” you replied sarcastically, wiping the dish with a rag and putting it back into your shared cabinet. 

Mingi almost dropped your favorite cat mug into the sink. “Y-you didn’t tell me you were into group sex.” 

You quickly took the mug from his grasp, holding it to your chest. “I was just joking, Min, so that you could see how silly you sound.” You reached up to caress his cheek with your cold hand, making him shiver. “Who cares if you’re attracted to your roommate. You know I don’t mind.” 

Mingi’s eyebrows screwed upwards, looking down at you with wide eyes. “B-but, he’s a dude.” 

“And?” 

He bit into his plump lip. “He’s got a dick.” 

You nodded your head. “Even better.” 

Mingi turned off the sink. “He’s my best friend, Y/N…” 

“I don’t see why that’s a problem, Min. You can’t control who you like.” 

“I-i don’t like him!” your boyfriend protested weakly, his rosy cheeks betraying him. 

You sighed, accepting defeat for now. “Okay, baby, I hear you.” 

Mingi suddenly cornered you against the sink, his hands on each side of the counter. He towered over you. “Why are you so interested in Yunho, huh? Do you want him?”

Now that the tables had turned, it was your turn to blush. “Wh-what?” 

Mingi slowly pressed himself into you, his body warm against yours. He was hard. You could feel it. “You heard me.” He leaned down to whisper, “You want to fuck my roommate, don’t you, baby?” 

Just then, the front door opened, a set of heavy footsteps making their way through the corridor until the very roommate you were speaking of appeared in the kitchen. “It’s raining cats and dogs out there,” Yunho chuckled softly, pulling his heavy black coat off, along with his foggy glasses, before shaking his head like a dog, his dirty blond bangs sticking to his forehead. 

Mingi had positioned you in front of him to conceal his boner, trying his best to look casual with his arms wrapped around you, his chin resting on the top of your head. “I told you to bring an umbrella, dumbass.” 

Yunho dropped his stuff down onto the kitchen counter, tugging at the thin white turtleneck he was wearing, the soaked material rolling up his waist. It had been soaked through, leaving little to the imagination. The both of you gulped audibly from where you stood. “You’re right, like always, Min.” Humming, Yunho used the loose material of his sweatpants to wipe his glasses clean, putting them back on, his gaze softening at the sight of his two favorite people. “Silly me.” 

“You’re going to catch a cold like that,” you whined, trying not to focus on the way his top clung to the ridges of his abs, or how his heavy sweatpants began to fall slightly from his hips. “You should take a shower, Yunho.”  

You weren’t the only one sizing him up, though Mingi wasn’t quite as capable of being subtle, instead biting straight into his lip, his deep-set eyes scanning lower until he could see the prominent outline of the very cock he was just talking about a few minutes ago. “Yeah, Yun. You’re soaked…” 

Yunho’s eyes formed half moons. His roommate and girlfriend were just too cute. He wanted nothing more than to fuck the living daylights out of the both of you, preferably in front of the other. Yunho couldn’t even keep track of the amount of times he’s jerked off to the thought of what you’d both act like when he was turning one of you out. He wondered which one of you would cry from being fucked full of cum, who could throat his cock the best, whose hole was the tightest, the list went on. These days, he’s even gone as far as to steal your panties, or Mingi’s boxers out of the laundry basket, just to wrap them around his dick and jerk himself off inside your shared room when the both of you were at work. And, as soon as he brought the soiled undergarments to his nose and inhaled your pretty scent, he blew his load all over your bed, like clockwork. Then, he almost always slipped in the hallway on the way to throw your blankets into the wash. It was getting bad.

He observed the splotches of water that had soaked into your own top and Mingi’s shirt alike, his lips curling up into a small smirk. “Looks like the both of you are wet too. Maybe we could all use a shower.” 

“M-maybe,” you choked out, worried your cover was blown by how flustered you looked. 

“You can go first though, bro,” Mingi finished for you, just about finishing in his pants from the thought of showering alongside Yunho, with you in between them. 

Yunho simply ran his long fingers through his wet hair, letting out a small sigh. “Your loss.” And with that, he made his way down the dark hallway to the bathroom. 

You didn’t even have to say anything for Mingi to know where your head was at, not when his other one poked into your abdomen when you turned around to face him. “Min…” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Bed, yeah,” Mingi breathed out, lifting you up from the floor and carrying you down the same hallway to your bedroom, the one that just so happened to share a wall with the bathroom. 

-

Beads of water slipped past the edge of Yunho’s tensing jaw, dripping past his contracting abdomen, and collecting inside the palm of his hand, aiding him in the pursuit of getting off, jerking himself off to the sound of Mingi piping you down. He could always tell when his best friend was about to cum; Mingi’s breath would get caught inside his dry throat and his words would start to come out jumbled. You were similar in that aspect, growing breathless, except you would always voice your desperation, that is, until all you could do was whine just before your insides were painted white. Knowing you were coming undone together in such proximity to Yunho made him so dizzy, he had to squeeze around the base of his cock to keep himself from cumming too soon. However, it was far too late, already letting out a sudden groan, leaving a few hefty splatters of cum on himself and the shower wall. Seeing white dots around his vision when he blinked, Yunho fought to catch his breath, pressing his cheek to the cool shower wall.

“Haven’t had enough, baby? Bet you need Yunho inside you next. Isn’t that right?” he heard Mingi ask you, finding it hard to swallow. Was he hearing right? 

“Yeah, I need him, Min, please–” you whined from underneath him, your thighs starting to tremble from being so close. 

“Ask him, princess,” Mingi cooed inside your ear, too drunk on lust to truly consider how his actions could backfire, bringing one sweat-covered arm to knock his fist into the wall, his hips smacking relentlessly into yours. “He’s right there.” 

Yunho jumped at the sensation of Mingi knocking through the wall, reaching over his body to turn the shower water off, his heart thumping loudly inside his chest. Finally, it was his time.

“Y-Yun, please, come here..!” Yunho heard your muffled plea, and that was all it took for him to burst through your door, a small, useless towel clinging desperately to his hips, gazing at his roommates past the foggy lenses of his glasses. 

“Y-you actually came.” Mingi swallowed hard, his thrusts growing sloppy, about to climb off of you, but staying while when Yunho slowly shook his head in disapproval. 

“I did. Now, you’re going to cum for me,” Yunho told him in a low voice, slowly climbing onto the bed, reaching down to run his fingers along his arm, leaving light, feathered touches over your collarbone next, sending a shiver through the both of you. He licked at his lips. “You’ll let me see, won’t you?” 

Neither you nor your boyfriend needed to have a discussion about the budding development of your relationship with Yunho. It just felt right. You immediately hooked your thighs around his waist, Mingi responding by pounding eagerly into your cunt until the both of you began to cry out. 

Yunho hovered behind Mingi, his wandering fingers closing around his friend’s waist, controlling the rate of Mingi’s strokes until he began to shudder, Yunho’s leaking cock rubbing along the other’s heated skin. He chuckled softly at the sound of Mingi’s whimpers, holding him still. “You’re cumming, aren’t you, Min? Inside your pretty girlfriend?” 

A bit of drool leaking from his lips, Mingi nodded weakly, as though his head was too heavy to lift, letting Yunho push his hips further and locking him in place, coating your pulsing walls with his seed. “F-fuck, I’m filling her up, Yun, it won’t stop…”

Humming in approval, Yunho gently coaxed Mingi to the side to access your body next, grabbing ahold of your nearest thigh and lifting it up and out of the way. “What do we have here? Mmm, no protection, huh?” He observed closely as his roommate’s load began to leak out past your fluttering hole. “I didn’t know your girlfriend liked it raw, Min.” He smiled perversely at Mingi, suddenly lifting your hips up in the air until you were folded in half like a paper doll, blowing a bit of air onto your cunt just to see you squirm. “Do you like having your little used pussy eaten too, baby?” 

“Y-yes, Yuyu,” you gasped, not used to having your ankles near your head like this, your filled hole on full display. It was so embarrassing, being looked at by your boyfriend and his roommate like they were going to eat you alive, but you couldn’t help but want more of their attention. You reached up, spreading yourself open, feeling Yunho’s heavy breaths against your skin. “Hurry, before it all spills out…” 

Groaning, Yunho dipped his tongue in between your slick lips, licking a long stripe up to your swollen clit with his tongue laid flat, languidly gathering up your combined arousal, repeating this action over and over, earning moan after wanton moan from you. Yunho opened his eyes to see how Mingi had positioned himself behind you, sitting on the opposite side of him, Mingi’s ringed fingers groping at your tits. They eventually shared heated eye contact, both growing harder at the mere sight of one another. 

“How does she taste?” Mingi’s voice is gravelly, low, and dripping with lust. “Tell me, Yun.” 

“Like heaven,” Yunho sighs out onto your hot skin, tonguing at your wet hole and pushing the tip inside. It slips out when you tighten up around it, but Yunho doesn’t give up, forcing it back in, much to your approval, flicking it in and out, in and out, until his chin is soaked with your arousal. He couldn’t help but chuckle with delight, licking his lips clean. “Your princess is making a mess.” 

Mingi couldn’t help but run the pad of his thumb over his twitching cock head, spreading the abundant pre-cum along the rest of his length. “Keep going, and she’ll make an even bigger one…”  

Taking that as a challenge, Yunho dove back in, with even more enthusiastic drags of his tongue this time around, aggressively guiding your hips to his favor. 

You tossed your head back, broken moans and expletives falling from your lips. You instinctively reached out, wanting to hold onto something: Yunho’s shaggy hair, your boyfriend, the warm sheets, or something, anything, when Mingi took hold of your wrists and held you still, his fingers slowly moving down to interlace with yours. “Oh my god–fuck, please…!” 

“Yes, that’s it, baby,” Mingi encouraged softly, giving your hands a gentle squeeze or two. “That’s my girl, being so good for us…”

Yunho’s hum vibrated through your lower half, his nose only bumping into your clit one more time, before a spray of arousal hit his moving tongue. It wasn’t until he could hear your juices splatter down onto his bare skin and the bed that his eyes rolled underneath his fluttering eyelids. “Oh my god…” He was so dizzy with lust, he was going to bust at any second, if he wasn’t careful. Just then, he noticed Mingi pulling you up into his arms, your back to his chest. He watched Mingi tilt your head until your lips met, throbbing at the sight of his tongue disappearing into your mouth. 

With Mingi’s arm snaking around your middle, his hand  cupping your sensitive cunt and his tongue down your throat, you opened your eyes to gaze at Yunho’s lips. Wanting to taste yourself, you lazily broke the kiss with Mingi, pulling Yunho closer to you, so close that you could still see drops of your arousal stuck to his glasses. “I taste like heaven, huh?” 

“Mm-hm…” Yunho pressed in closer, sandwiching you in between him and your boyfriend, his hands moving downwards to explore the closest expanse of skin, whether it was yours or Mingi’s. “I’ll show you.” 

Yunho’s tongue slid into your mouth before you had a chance to properly taste his lips, letting you taste your warm arousal instead. Just then, Mingi lifted your hips up and back down onto his stiff cock, not even moving, just wanting to feel the way you stretched open to accommodate him. It felt so good, he couldn’t help but throb, eyes shutting tight from the pleasure, immediately kissing back when your lips were back on his. You turned your head slightly to kiss each of them, your boyfriend and roommate taking turns swallowing each and every moan you let out, that is, until your lips and tongues met in the middle. 

Soon, you pulled away to take a much needed breath, unable to catch it, especially now that you realized the two men didn’t seem to stop like you did, instead tilting their heads in opposite directions to deepen the kiss, drool dripping along their chins. They both gripped your hips from either side, mutually guiding them up and down, just as Mingi began to thrust up into you, Yunho’s cock rubbing along your clit at the same time. Once your cunt squeezed around Mingi’s cock, he knocked his head back, forcing the string of saliva that connected their lips to break apart. “Fuck, baby– princess, you’re squeezing so tight…feels so good…” 

“Is she? I bet she’ll squeeze even harder with me inside,” Yunho panted near your ear, his head spinning, swearing all the blood in his body had traveled to his heavy cock. 

“What are you waiting for? Give it to me..!” you gasped out, unable to control the volume of your voice, not when Mingi was slamming into you like a short-circuiting sex machine.

“Give it to her, Yun,” Mingi encouraged raspily, lifting your body up and lowering you back down, feeling your cunt slowly stretch open to fit the both of them inside and swallow them up completely. Once Yunho bucked his hips up, Mingi joined suit, their slick cocks rubbing along one another so quick, they would occasionally slip out, though they simply pushed back in and fucked you harder than before. “Oh, that’s it…oh, god…”

“I’m gonna–nnnngh,” Yunho cut his announcement off with a moan, gritting his teeth tight, pumping what seemed to be an endless load into your already used pussy. “Fuck, it really won’t stop…I’m gonna knock up your girlfriend, Min…” 

Just when you thought you would pass out, Mingi wrapped his arms tight around your middle, his hands laid flat against your stomach, swearing he could feel his roommate’s cock underneath the pads of his fingers. “What’s mine is yours,” Mingi sighed out, pulling out for a moment, just to force himself back in, shooting thick ropes of cum deep into your womb. Panting heavily, your boyfriend’s hands slid down along your abdomen, only having to pinch and rub at your clit for a moment, before you completely unraveled in between their heaving bodies. 

Yunho pulled his glasses off, tossing them onto the bed. “You really mean that, Min?” he asked, leaning in closer. Not only did he have free rein with his roommate’s pretty little girlfriend, but Mingi seemed to be up for grabs as well. If this was a dream, he never wanted to wake up. “Does that include you?” 

Mingi scoffed, his cheeks hot to the touch, hoping Yunho couldn’t feel how hard he just got. “Now, let’s not get carried away.” 

© kitten4sannie, 2024.

fff taglist: @yutasbutterfly02 @wisejudgedragonhairdo @dawn-iscozy @bbdeongi @multistanbaby @cr4zyf0rm @kittenfrostt @magicshop1913 @enbysforhongjoong @londonbridges01 @mingisdimple @motherseonghwa23 @wwooyology @everyonewooeverywhere @leo-seonghwa @yourfatherlucifer @hwallazia @vampzity

[linawritesficsies]

s.h. | we need to warm up (one shot)

a/n: it's been a while since i posted a steve fic, so here it issssss. this is a combination of a friends episode and a scene from an old tv show i used to watch when i was a teenager.

warnings: being locked up in closed spaces, language, mentions of sex and injuries (freezing), english is not my first language. some stuff may not be accurate. MINORS DNI. credits to the gif owner!

summary: steve and you worked at scoops ahoy together and one day while you two were bickering about something silly, you got stuck in a walk-in refrigerator.

steve harrington x afab!oc!reader.

🚫do NOT copy, translate or put my work thru an AI.

Robin, your best friend, helped you get this job at Scoops Ahoy a couple of months ago. The work itself wasn’t ideal because you had to put up with a lot of annoying people (and cleaning toilets wasn’t very appealing either), but the pay was pretty good and it allowed you to combine it with your study schedule. The best parts were obviously the free ice cream and sharing shifts with your bestie.

You also had to share several shifts with Steve Harrington. You didn’t like him at first if you were being completely honest. You knew him from before because you had shared a few classes at Hawkins High, but you never actively talked to him. He was very handsome and charming, but his reputation of being a womanizer and a douchebag preceded him so for you that was enough to keep your distance.

However, everything changed when you took on this job. On the bright side, has had some personal growth over the last few months so this made spending time with him a lot easier. Of course, the King Steve persona sometimes came into the light and he could get insufferable, but you still enjoyed his company. You could say you had more of a ‘frenemies’ relationship. Definitely, one of the things that amused you the most was bickering with Steve, so when the work day was quiet, you’d pick a silly argument just for the sake of it. 

Thus, that’s what led the two of you to discuss the topic of sex in the middle of one casual Saturday afternoon in mid-September at Scoops Ahoy. The weather was chiller than the one from previous weeks, but there were some people that weren’t going to let the climate get in the way of getting ice cream. You couldn’t blame them though. Robin was at the register machine, getting the customers’ orders and Steve and you were organizing the stock at the back of the shop.

“Harrington, are you really saying that kissing and foreplay are not as important as the sex part!?”, you exclaimed a bit too loudly while you glared at your coworker with a questioning look. He just quirked his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders meaning ‘Yes, I said what I said. Deal with it.’

You didn’t feel any shame talking about these topics. In fact, you were pretty bold. Especially with Steve. He had that vibe that made everyone around him feel comfortable with discussing or doing anything. Of course. King Steve, ladies and gentlemen. 

“Why would I prefer the opening act when I know I’ll be seeing, I dunno, The Police soon?”

You let out a chuckle.

“You have been spending more time with Eddie, haven’t you?”, he gave you a mocking look. It was no secret that Steve wasn’t a fan of Eddie, especially because recently he had been stealing Dustin’s attention and that made Steve more jealous than he cared to admit. You couldn’t help but smile at the cuteness of Steve and Dustin’s relationship and his jealousy.

You grabbed one of the boxes with new ice cream flavours that were recently delivered to the shop because you had to carry them to the walk-in refrigerator, but since the two boxes were really heavy you asked Steve for help. At first he pretended to ignore you, but then he smiled teasingly and grabbed the other one to give you a hand. You had trouble deciding whether you hated that smile or you loved it… It was probably the latter. 

As soon as you entered the refrigerator, the chilly air hit your skin. You carefully placed the box you were carrying on the floor and put the door wedge so it wouldn’t close while you were in there. The door was pretty heavy because it needed to stay shut in order to keep the temperature low, but also, the door handle wasn’t working pretty well.

“Anyways, for us girls they’re really equally important”, you resumed your little argument while you two arranged the ice creams on the various shelves, categorizing them by their flavor. “We can get all the information we need about the other person from the first kiss. I can’t believe you don’t like it.”

You looked at him from the corner of your eye and noticed that he rolled his.

“No, honey”, he paused and sighed. You screamed internally at the pet name. He usually called you by your name or ‘Smarty Pants’ whenever you gave him witty comebacks. “It’s not that I don’t like it. I do, but I’d rather get down to the real business quicker.”

“Well, hun, friendly advice, if you keep thinking like that, you’ll have to settle with solo concerts.”

Steve wanted to give you the middle finger so badly but couldn’t do it because he had his hands full so he had to contempt himself by sticking out his tongue in a mocking tone. You gave him a playful nudge on the shoulder and then he gave you another one back but Steve was stronger than you so you tripped backwards and accidentally kicked the door wedge and the refrigerator door closed. 

“Fuck”, the two of you blurted out in unison; your heartbeats picking up rapidly. You exchanged looks and frowned your eyebrows at the same time. Under different circumstances, you would have laughed at the synchronicity.

“This is your fault.”

“How is this my fault, Harrington? You pushed me!”, you replied back while you got up from the floor and adjusted your uniform.

“You made me come in here!”

“I simply asked for your help!”

You decided it was useless to continue with this bickering so you kneeled down before the door handle to try to make it work. However, it was useless. The door refused to budge. You had repeatedly asked Keith, your boss, to call the repair guy to fix said handle but of course he never did. You cursed him under your breath while you got back up and started screaming and banging on the door.

“ROBIN! HELP! SOMEBODY”, Steve joined you but nobody seemed to hear. “HELLO, WE’RE INSIDE THE REFRIGERATOR!”, you both screamed over and over again.

“I hope Robin notices quickly we’re nowhere to be seen. If not, we’re going to freeze to death”, you lifted your hands to massage your scalp, trying to prevent yourself from spiraling. Extremely difficult task given the not so encouraging situation. You didn’t consider yourself a claustrophobic person but you weren’t a fan.

“Don’t exaggerate, Y/N. It’s just a little bit of cold”, he shrugged his shoulders and waved his hand dismissively, as if brushing off your very real concern. 

If looks could kill, he would be reduced to ashes right now. 

“Unlike you, I don’t have teenage-like hormones, Steve. I get cold easily.”

He was about to reply with another witty comment, but he noticed how anxious you were getting. He saw your right leg start bouncing rapidly and how you bit your fingernails—subtle things you did when you were nervous or distressed. He had noticed them before. He let out a defeated sigh.

“OK, I’m being serious right now: we’re going to get out of here in a heartbeat, don’t worry.” 

You went back to the screaming and banging, hoping that someone outside would hear you at that very moment and get you out of there. Unfortunately, you were alone with the echoes of your voice and movements. Meanwhile, Steve was pacing the small place, thinking of any other possible escape. 

After some minutes that felt like hours, the cold and the confinement were starting to take a toll on you. You sat on the floor with your back against the door to keep hitting it, more occasionally now. The Scoops Ahoy uniform was not enough to keep you warm; your body started trembling so you hugged yourself, keeping your knees close to your chest. Steve heard your shivering breaths. He scanned the ‘room’ one more time and saw the empty cardboard boxes stacked where you had been organizing the ice cream.

“We can use the empty ice cream boxes to keep us warm”, you gave him a questioning look. encouraging him to clarify. “We can break them down to sit on them and then put the other parts over our bodies”.

“God bless that big head of yours, Harrington.”, you smiled and tried to stand up but it wasn’t as easy as before. Your body was getting stiffer. Steve gave you a hand.

The two of you started tearing up the boxes and placing the flattened pieces on the floor next to the door and then cutting up bigger sections to use as makeshift blankets. 

“Well, it’s better than nothing”, Steve commented once you were all set and you agreed, keeping the cardboard boxes as close to your body as possible. 

It was far from being the perfect solution, but it worked… for a couple of minutes. Then, you started shivering again. You got up to the point where you could no longer feel your legs. You wanted to keep screaming and banging on the door but the little energy you had was starting to wear off. You decided to save it for later.

“Fuck, it’s so cold in here. I can’t stand it anymore”, you blurted out, more to yourself than anything and tried to rub your hands violently against your legs to get some warmth.

“Come here”, Steve whispered while opening his arms, motioning you to huddle closer to him so you could share whatever body heat you had left. It was true, Steve had a higher body temperature than any other person either of you knew but he wasn’t sure of how much that was going to last. He was feeling colder too.

You were hesitant to accept his embrace at first because you weren’t used to sharing physical contact with him but you quickly decided that it was worth trying it. Once you were beside him, he put his arms around your shaking frame and put two cardboard boxes over both your bodies. He rested his head on top of yours and you hugged him, wrapping your arms around his waist. Despite everything, this felt strangely nice and comfortable.

“We’re gonna get out of here, I promise”, he said after some silence and you could see the wisps of vapor that looked like smoke coming out of his mouth. 

You were too tired and weak to say or do anything. It seemed the temperature kept dropping every second. There was some frost on your hair and your eyelashes. Steve had it on his perfect hair too. At this moment, you actually believed you were going to die there. You snuggled closer into Steve’s embrace; not that it was really possible because you were practically glued to him.

You slowly started to drift off; your eyelids felt like two bricks of concrete. Steve went into alert mode when he felt you relax under his touch. “Hey, Y/N. Can you hear me?”

You let out a barely audible “Mh” and he started rubbing circles on your arm, close to your elbow.

“Stay awake, OK?”

He knew you couldn’t fall asleep if you had hypothermia. He didn’t know why but he remembered one of his biology teachers who explained that your body functions would slow down even more, which could be deadly. He didn’t even want to imagine that happening. 

At first, he didn’t want to admit he liked you because you were a pain in the neck, but then, as he spent more and more time with you, he learned you were funny, smart, and although you annoyed him to boredom sometimes, you were kind-hearted. Also, you had one of the most contagious laughs he has ever heard. And on top of that, you were insanely pretty. 

This drastic situation helped him realize he didn’t want to lose you, in any way. He couldn’t.

“I can’t.”, you whispered once again.

“Yes, you can”, his hands moved upwards to cup both your cheeks now; his desperate eyes fixed on your face. “Open your eyes, please, darling”. You wanted to laugh at the nickname but you didn’t even have the strength to do so. His voice was trembling now too. He didn’t know if out of the cold he was feeling or of the fear of something happening to you. He placed a kiss on your forehead. “Come on, I wanna see those pretty eyes.”

“I’m cold, Stevie. I’m sorry.”

You only used that nickname to tease him because he hated it. Now, it scratched his brain just right. He didn’t fail to notice you looked so small, so fragile. He didn’t know how, but he could feel you slip away from him.

“No, no, no, no”, he blurted out quickly. “Y/N, listen to me. Focus on my voice and my hands”, he rubbed circles on both of your cheeks. “Don’t fall asleep. Talk to me.”

His serious but also desperate tone made you realize the gravity of your state.

“About what?”, you whispered as you tried to get your whole attention to his gentle touches and his breathing. 

“About anything. Tell me a secret, a memory, an embarrassing story. Whatever comes to your mind, just talk to me.”

You gathered strength out of nowhere and opened your eyes. You saw Steve sigh with a little bit of relief. He also looked exhausted and cold, but there was something in his eyes that told you he was not giving up easily. You couldn’t say so for yourself, sadly.

“Your pretty eyes are the last pair I’m going to see”, you spoke slowly. Steve’s heart broke a little at your statement.

“No, don’t say things like that.. I need you to stay here with me. Please. I need you to stay alive so I can take you on a date when we’re out of here”, his voice and the movements on your skin were starting to slow down too. “I don’t want to leave this planet before kissing your beautiful lips.”

You gave him a weak smile.

“Do it now, Stevie.”

He lifted his eyebrows, thinking he heard you incorrectly. But then, you directed your eyes to his own lips, so he took it as an invitation and wasted no time. The kiss was slow and short but sweet nonetheless. None of you had much energy to keep going for longer, much to your dismay.

“That’s the way to warm up, right?”, he joked and you let out a choked laugh.

You went back to your tight embrace. You weren’t sure how much time you had left. You stopped trembling a couple of minutes ago and you knew that wasn’t a good sign. You thought about your family and your friends. One single tear fell from your left eye.

Just about when Steve was going to wipe it, you heard some noises on the other side of the door. You two looked at each other and Steve used the adrenaline rush to get back on his feet and helped you do the same.

“HELP, WE’RE STUCK IN THE REFRIGERATOR. PLEASE HELP”, Steve was the one yelling and you attempted to bang the door as loud as you could.

And then, the door finally opened. You squinted your eyes due to the sudden change of lightning and tried to make out the silhouette that was standing in front of you, but before you could see who it was or do anything else, your legs gave in and your vision went black, which resulted in you passing out on the ground.

Your eyelids fluttered open as the characteristic antiseptic hospital smell hit your nose. The sterile white walls were the first thing you saw. Your body still felt cold, even though you had several blankets wrapped around your frame. You turned your head to the side and saw Steve sitting on a chair, wrapped on a blanket as well. His eyes were closed and his head was slightly tilted to the side. He looked worn off but really adorable.

“Steve?”, you called his name but you didn’t recognize your own voice. It was really sore. The boy opened his eyes and gave you a sweet smile. There was a mixture of relief and concern in his look.

“Hey… You gave us quite the scare.” You apologized and he shrugged it off. “Your parents are already here. They’re filling out the paperwork.” He grabbed the chair and moved it forward to be closer to your bed. Then he grabbed your hand that was hidden under the blankets. “I should call the doctor to let her know you had woken up.”

You nodded but refused to let his hand go so he could stand up. His heart melted.

“We need to talk about our date”, you casually mentioned between giggles.

“You don’t waste a minute, don’t you?”, he chuckled, shaking his head. “I assure you, it’s going to be a date to die for.” Now it was your turn to laugh. 

aaaand the end... i hope you enjoyed it! and as always, i'd love to read some comments with your opinions :) and i'm also taking request, so there's your chance to leave a nice ask 💗

[morlock-holmes]

Still thinking about that Astral Codex Ten AI Art Turing test...

I mean... Obviously the one on the right is the human one. Is this some kind of prank? Am I on candid camera?

My suspicion is that what this test demonstrates most conclusively is that we are so thoroughly bombarded with images that we have developed the defensive measure of paying as little attention to them as possible.

We get the gist and then move on as quickly as possible.

Here's someone who did much better than I did on this test explaining their results.

This demonstrates fairly conclusively that nearly all the AI images Alexander chose do in fact, have "tells" which are extremely plain when you attend closely to the details.

In fact, I managed to get 2 out of every 3 correct even with an incredibly lazy and fast-paced assessment carried out on my phone without much recourse to fine detail.

There are two trends I noticed in the comments of the results post.

First, a significant number of ACX posters harbor a suspicion and resentment towards art and good taste, which leads them to suspect that all artistic judgement is essentially arbitrary and based on clout. They don't notice the difference, so there must not be a difference.

Second, a number of people who are clearly AI skeptics gave ground and accepted the idea that the AI images were lacking in "tells" and were especially good, and instead attempted to attack the test on the grounds that this kind of curation was itself unfair.

Both responses indicate, to me, both a fascination with images and a kind of, for lack of a better word, illiteracy about them.

And perhaps most interestingly this illiteracy doesn't seem to obviously vary between pro and anti-AI readers.

To go back to the side by side landscapes up there, the landscape on the left probably has the fewest obvious "tells" of AI art, maybe of all the AI images.

It's also just, you know, a much worse piece of art than the one on the right?

To go back to what I said in an earlier post, the painting on the right draws the eye down the hill. The two figures on the path are expertly set off so that even though they are barely suggested with just a couple of brush strokes, they immediately stand out and draw the eye, causing you to follow the same path they are taking down into the village.

Contrast the image on the left. Which part of the painting is your eye drawn to first? It could really by almost anywhere. No part of the picture is more important than any other, there's very little contrast between, say, the village on the right and the wildflowers on the left. What detail there is is largely because, well, otherwise there wouldn't be a painting.

If you asked 100 art critics which of those paintings was by a renowned master and which one you found hanging in a dentist's office I think all 100 would give you the same answer.

Or take this one:

If you really, really zoom in on the hand on our right, the anatomy is probably wonky, but I didn't notice that, I just thought,

"Okay, but, like, what is this angel, like... Doing?"

This figure, painted in this style, is rife with symbolism. Most likely an angel, or at the very least Icarus, it ought to be extremely clear what sort of emotional/cultural/allegorical/etc. meaning is being communicated, but it is just sort of... looking off yearningly towards nothing.

Culturally, it's just not something that a human would paint as a finished piece.

Actually in general AI seems to tend to either not have a clear focal point, or to have one extremely obvious subject placed right smack dab in the center of the frame.

One of the subtle visual gags in Monty Python and The Holy Grail is that the peasants are often doing things that look, on very cursory examination, as though they are some kind of agricultural activity, but actually they are just hitting random patches of ground with a stick or sitting on the ground and moving mud into a big pile.

And same with this Angel; it looks, at casual glance, to be doing "Angel type stuff" and if you just keep moving you leave with the impression that everything was fine.

But if you stop yourself, go back, and ask, "Wait, specifically what is it doing?" you really can't come up with anything more specific than, "Angel type stuff".

This sort of vagueness is also a tell of AI art.

If what I'm saying sounds a bit frustrated or mean-spirited I think it's because looking at this test has solidified something that I haven't really been able to articulate before, which sort of sums up to the vast majority of talk about AI, regardless of what the conclusion is, evidences a strong emotional investment in images paradoxically combined with a sort of estrangement from them and often even a strong resentment towards them.

Both pro and anti-AI imagery camps contain a tremendous number of people who feel imagery as a kind of imposition, with AI as either an emancipatory force aimed at a tyrannical art world bent on crushing us with arbitrary, incomprehensible images or, on the other hand, as a tyrannical force set to flood us helplessly with a set of incomprehensible images almost entirely against our will.

[oddballwriter]

All I Want is Forever

Summary: A blurb in which you are a vampire and in a relationship with the MK system and Khonshu likes to nag you about how you take a bit of what’s ‘his’.

Warning: Reader is mentioned to and is actively watching the moon boys sleep in this, it’s an endearing thing. Mentions of blood drinking (both implied for feeding and also for sexual purposes). Implications that Steven’s a monster fucker. Khonshu being a pain in the ass and an asshole. Not proofread so beware of any mistakes I wrote this around midnight and I was simultaneously watching The Last Unicorn.

Author’s Snip: Vampire posting time 🖤🦇

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Word count: 780

Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @sergeant102105 @ingoldthewizard

It wasn’t creepy.

Well, it was. It was creepy, but it technically wasn’t on par with the fact that Steven, Marc, and Jake didn’t mind it.

Well-

Okay- more like Steven and Jake liked it and Marc didn’t say anything to not ruin whatever joy the other two got from you watching them sleep, but you could tell that Marc understood that the gesture was endearing rather than… predator. Which you wouldn’t put past anyone considering that the whole concept of having a vampire watch you sleep was seen as a predatory thing in film and media over the centuries. But they knew you’d never do such a thing to them. Never take without permission.

Even when you first met each other, they already seemed to know that you weren’t one of the “bad ones” let alone knowing what you are from the beginning. You weren’t sure when exactly you two crossed from being casual acquaintances in the night where you’d occasionally join them on local missions and get your feed that way - to a fully committed relationship, but you were there now and had crossed many other lines in the relationship, and done many things that you’d most likely see in adult rated monster romance novels, of which you found out Steven had a secret stash of in the flat. But there was one that you hadn’t crossed. One that you personally never wanted to cross.

You’d be lying if you said that you never wanted to turn them. It was this strange irk that sat in your chest and made you clench your jaw, wanting to bite. With all the years that you’ve been around, you’ve learned to control all of your irks to the point that you can hardly feel them anymore unless you let them be there. But this one sat even when you tried to shake it off. But you had enough willpower to keep it away from them.

Even if you liked the thought of being the same in that sense, you could never. You liked them this way. Warm. Breathing. Heart beating. Life still in them. It made them so beautiful to you. But even if you did want to make them yours there was one thing in your way.

You can always feel him in the room at a certain point as you watch them sleep, and it’s not different when you sit there on the edge of the side of the bed gently petting Steven’s hair as he sleeps there sound asleep. You feel the slightest gust of wind behind you and that feeling of no longer being alone in the room, coupled with the high and mightiness that Khonshu carries in the air with him, but you just continue on watching Steven’s chest slowly rise and fall and the slightest sound of the body’s heart beating until dusty old bird speaks.

“You can not have them.” he bellows out, “They are mine. They are my avatar.” he reinstates.

“I don’t want to have them.” you remind him. “If I wanted to I would have done it already. Steven’s given me his neck a dozen times already. I could have easily done it then.” you tease.

“I have told the little bug not to do that. I have told him that the blood in that body is mine on a technicality and that he’s not to waste it. But he doesn’t listen to me.” Khonshu complains. You just roll your eyes and say “Don’t kink shame him.” under your breath.

Khonshu stomps his foot, exclaiming “He could use that blood to spare when they’re harmed in battle that I assign them.”.

Steven sturs in his sleep at the sound but you turn back to him to gently shush him and lull him back to sleep. “You assign them plenty and replenish them when they need it. Don’t act like you can’t.” you scold him. “And don’t act like you don’t keep them from aging. I can see the changes of time in every living thing I see, and I don’t see any on them. They can sit by the both of us and be fine.” you tell the god.

“As long as they’re here with me forever, regardless of how, I’ll take it. It’s that simple,” you explain. “I prefer them like this anyways,” you add. “Steven as a fledgling would be a hassle anyway. He wouldn’t eat anything straight from the source. And Jake’s a messy eater in general.” you claim.

“But if you ever set sights on a new potential vessel then feel free to toss them right towards me. I’m sure I can figure something out.” you joke.

[hanniejji]

birthdays and burnt pancakes

— hoshina soshiro x gn!reader

— notes: and it's a comeback! thank fuck for a consistent job schedule oh my god. coming back to writing with an 8-12 hours job is a risky take since rest is a luxury itself, but im gonna give it my very best! happy birthday to my husband i love him so much wtf | [masterlist]

words: 715 | warnings: suggestive but no nasty.

“y'know, i always thought one of the best things to wake up to is you cuddled up to me in one of my shirts.”

“oh my god,” your hand tightened their hold around the handle of the pan, the other retreating its grip on the spatula in favor of clutching into a fist at your chest from fright.

“you scared the fuck out of me,” you hissed and glared pointedly at the smug man.

soshiro, ever the sly man, remains hunched behind the kitchen island, chin propped on his palm with his watchful gaze looking over your busy form with a grin. if you weren't so caught up in the way his sudden appearance took you by surprise, you would've spent some time admiring how untroubled he seemed to be at the moment, so unlike his stiff and composed self on duty.

relaxation, to someone with soshiro's occupation, is luxury itself.

“what can i say?” he hums, “the view is too good for me not to say so out loud.”

“oh shush it,” you turn around to face the frying pan with a grumble, scooping and flipping the pancake.

you hear him suppress his laughter before he shuffles around the kitchen island to stand behind you. calloused and firm hands rest upon either side of your hips, the familiar touch never failing to bring goosebumps along your spine. more so at the warmth of his breath on the skin of your nape.

“you should go back to bed, i'll finish this up in a moment.”

“but i miss you.”

you can hear the pout in his voice. what a whiny man.

“we have the day to ourselves, love,” you turn your head to place a quick peck on the corner of his lips. “i just want to bring my birthday boy his breakfast in bed and then we can go about your day however you want us to spend it, okay?”

“oh? what if i have a different breakfast in mind, hm?” he hums against your ear, fingers now rising up and under your(his) shirt to feel your skin, “one that is currently right in the palm of my hands?”

“you're insatiable and it hasn't even been hours through the morning.”

he snickers at the deadpan tone of your voice, resting his chin on your shoulder to watch you pour the batter in the pan to make another batch, wordlessly complying to your earlier request with a fond look in his eyes.

such a domestic activity and it's driving him insane with all the possibilities of a future spending each and every morning like this with you—ending each and every night with you.

oh god, he's really all in with you, isn't he?

“i really do love the sight of you making breakfast for the both of us early in the morning,” he hums contentedly, the smile on his face obvious from the tone of his voice. “makes me want to marry the life out of you.”

the mention of such commitment escaping his lips so casually brought a flurry of warmth to your cheeks and a funny feeling in your stomach. you know hoshina soshiro well enough to know that he wouldn't spew such things if he doesn't mean them in the slightest. perhaps he says it as a way to seal a promise to you without directly addressing the matter. in any case, it will be a topic for a different day, when the both of you are ready to tackle that stage in your relationship. you do nothing to deny or oppose his statement.

“although,” he drags out a playful tone, “nothing will beat the sight of your disheveled hair sprawled across your pillow, dazed look on your face from lust with your lips parted while we–”

“how are you this horny so early in the morning?” you abruptly elbowed his torso in a futile attempt to save yourself from embarrassment and further teasing.

“also, stop bothering me while i'm cooking!”

“i was merely stating a fact!” he jested with a chime of giggles, nuzzling his face into your hair and wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer to his chest.

“i can't help it when you're being this adorable first thing in the morning!”

“i'm going to feed you burnt pancakes.”

— © 2024 do not copy and repost my works!

[vyzz-undercover]

pspspsps dinner time everyone

[cato/f!ambassador]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

(5,700ish words) (im cooked)

CONTENT WARNINGS:

•slight dubcon [again]

•hints of size kink

•intercourse [M/F]

•discussions of virginity

•vague breathplay

•even more negligible aftercare

•degrading language

•mild possessive behaviour

•tumblr's pisspoor formatting as per last time

———————————————————————————————————

im once again doing a free magic show here and pulling a rabbit (this fic) out my ass. so, without further a-do the tagging... @kit-williams, @passionofthesith, @pluvio-tea, @the-raven-lady, @bispecsual, @egrets-not-regrets, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @lemon-russ. let me know if anyone else wanna be tagged if i do a part three HAHAHAHHAHA i might double down on the comedy-of-errors and have Guilliman get involved. Not like a three-way with this particular fic, even if I'd love to slut papa smurf out. There's always another time and another chance to sexualise an old man :3

———————————————————————————————————

Cato finds you relatively easily.

Truthfully, you make no actual sport of it. But he's never going to pass up a cheap bit of entertainment at your expense.

At this time of the ship's cycle you're most likely to be in the east wing, pointedly the lower libraries. He knows this. He won't confess why or how he knows, though—so, fuck off.

You're lazy and predictable. To say nothing of the fact you're far too comfortable scuttling about his Father's vessel. If a hypothetical assassin ever could get onto the ship without being stomped into paste by him immediately, they'd have no problems tracking you down. You may as well be a sevitor running on rails for all your movements stay the same.

He notes you're not on the first level.

Nor the second.

You are on the third, in the leftmost quadrant.

In the restricted reading area.

You do have clearance—but the fact still irks him. Typically, this was for his more decorated brothers to catalogue Xenos. Typically, one needed to be accompanied to even access this level.

But oh, no—no, you're allowed.

You're allowed because you are a damnable leach of a woman. And also the bane of his existence, did he mention that? And you're—you're—tucked up in secure side-room, reading on a data-slate; half-asleep in a little blue robe and looking the pict of adorable sloth.

You don't notice him immediately.

Clearly too absorbed in your gerrymandering-for-servitors cheat-sheet.

And that annoys him even more.

Because, are you really that obtuse? So unassailable in your own mind that you're this blatantly fucking oblivious? He's an Astartes, damn it. Sure, he's in casual rest attire instead of clanking plate—but he's a large, two-and-a-bit meter tall trans-human war-machine standing in the doorway—and you haven't even noticed him. Ignorant like some little rodent chewing away at crumbs in it's hovel.

His Father's got a vermin problem on board, and the mice are stupid and bold and literate... along with rather cozy, apparently.

A finely woven navy throw is swaddled around you where you're lying on the chaise lounge. And the sight of you bundled up inspires a vivid déjà-vu of the last time you were alone with him with little more than a blanket over you.

Cato hesitates for a heartbeat, swallows down the sudden lump in his throat and sets his jaw.

He steps into the room and waves a hand over the laser-pad locking mechanism.

There's a fractional second in which you become cognisant to the sound of the shutter door closing and where you actively notice him.

Then there's a shrill scream as if you've pinched a nerve.

The data-slate goes flying, pelted at his head. But it hits the shutter door and clatters to the floor, far-off any hint of a good mark.

Useless woman.

Realising it's him a moment later, you heave out a racketing sigh.

"Throne of Terra, Ca—" you start, and it sounds like you're going to say his first name before you rightly correct yourself and say, "C-Commander, you scared me half to death."

He immediately sets about accosting you, "Have you been sitting here with the door open this whole time?"

"No," you nip out.

"You are aware that I can tell when you're lying?"

"I'm certain you can," your tone flattens in a way he's only ever heard you talk to particularly sleazy representatives with. It's not an honest exchange, it's double-speak. It's mocking. You're mocking him.

He grits his teeth.

You've grown more open in your defiance towards him as of late, certainly not because of any revelation or reason and it rubs him in a dangerous, new way. He's not about to let it slide, either.

"Is that so?" His words are sharp and accusative and he hopes—he hopes he'll get the delight of watching you cower like you usually do when confronted by him. "Have you been lying to me often, then?"

Half his hopes come true. You look away nervously and mumble something almost inaudibly, and he'd not have noticed if not for his far superior hearing.

It was, "...maybe," and all Cato can help but do being himself, is detonate.

"And what have you been deceiving me of, you scheming little whore?" He snarls, fuming—a dozen crimes and sins crowding his mind you might be tried for. Maybe he's been far too lenient to the actual reality of your evil. Finally, validation to corroborate his deviation—maybe you'll admit you're some Slanneshi fleshchanger, and that you intended to have burrowed so deep in his mind.

Nonetheless, you're nowhere near even close to fast enough to defend yourself. But it's not like he gives you the chance.

He's crossed the distance with a practiced speed. And quicker than you can even yelp, you are pinned to the lounge—a shackle in the form of his fist around your smaller throat.

The pressure is a limp handshake by his standards. You're not really choking. Just stifled slightly for good measure.

Still, it'd be a mere flex to break your neck. He could snap you like a stylus with what was to him, ultimately, nothing but a simple twitch of his fingers. And he would think more about the blatant contrasts between you both much longer if he wasn't far too distracted by the fact you even struggle prettily wantonly. Big eyes wide and glossy with animal panic. Involuntary tears gather at the corners as you register what's going on at last. The mad temptation to lick them if they so much as dare trail down your cheeks begins eating at him.

Some rational part of his rational mind reminds him he can't get the truth out of you when he's vaguely throttling you, though—and he lets you go begrudgingly. Instead opting for looming over you as you roll sidelong on the couch, breathing fast.

He crouches down to your level and grumbles, still absorbed in his raging.

"Speak," he barks, and pointedly grabs you by the chin.

"I–I hadn't actually—" you start, breathless as you mumble. "Actually, uh, laid with anyone, even though I nodded I sort of... had."

He's staggered at the statement, "...that's it?"

A vague lie of omission, but it's not the great corruption he sought to root out.

Then he actually thinks about what you've just admitted.

Like fog banished under a rising sun, his anger at the thought of treachery immediately dissipates into blistering revelation.

"Hold on, you..." Cato starts, baffled and completely knocked for a six, meeting your gaze slowly—genuinely stunned as he pulls his hand back fully. "I... I was the first?"

You look away cursorily, face reddening not only with your previous strains, but with embarrassment.

Now, that was the reaction of a guilty conscience.

Cato doesn't know what to do with the information. Nor does he really know what he feels.

He'd been the first. He feels like he's won something over his brothers. Therefore, fuck the lot of them—and fuck Titus, specifically. Even if he's not sure why. He truly couldn't believe it. There's success, sure—but then there's taking the laurels: whole and absolute. And this... this is exactly that. But oh, for some apparently vestal thing, you'd let him bully down to the hilt in your tight cunt; whining like a whore when he spilled himself inside you. Throne, it was almost suffocating to think back on it now. So willing to have your maidenhead taken, nevermind the fact you weren't the only one who'd had a new experience that day. But you didn't need to know that.

"Another notch to my mantel of victories then," he ultimately decides is the best thing to say, gloating to himself.

"Unbelievable," you sigh softly as you shakily sit yourself up.

But there's the problem again. The one tangible, constant problem with having laid you. It's made you mouthy. He only ever glimpsed your boldness when you interacted with other baselines in the past. You never sassed Astartes, or at least, he's never seen you do it. But now that stubbornness and unwillingness to back down in a political forum is on full display heedless of situation. As if you've suddenly become one of the auto-felating Imperial Fists—or any of Dorn's insufferable ball-busting scions, really. Worst of all, it's only managed to somehow make him even more enthralled annoyed with you than usual. You're still too good at quashing your anger, hard as it is to rouse. But he loves loathes that you bite the lure instead of shying off now.

"To think that I was the first—is your entire professional role not centred around charm? Would no one else have you with that rotten attitude you've been hiding?" he says, knowing he's being nasty, knowing he's twisting the knife; and absolutely praying for you to fall for it.

Cato watches a rainbow of emotions pass over your features, before you settle on one that makes you look like you ate something sour. He's hit a weak spot. But the sentiment holds true. His Primarch thinks you the best and brightest to sway planets? You couldn't even seduce some daft, drunken aristocratic fool to fuck you.

You, the prettiest baseline he's ever seen.

...maybe Guilliman is right in saying the Imperium has rolled belly-up with bloat.

"That's not—that's not why and you know it," you open your mouth and jumble your words briefly before getting out, "Do you have any idea how hard it is to find someone who won't have a panic attack because of the several Astartes that insist on following you around?" You continue, raving and flustered, "Do you think anyone would get near me with you—or—or... maybe Captain Acheran, or the good Chaplain, let's say, breathing over my shoulder?"

"You should be grateful any of us waste our time babysitting you," Cato oafishly shoots back like a petulant child, brows furrowing, "You should be thanking me for doing the brunt of it."

Your nose scrunches up, "Pardon me, Commander, it's surely entirely my fault that we are both at the whims of our Lord Primarch."

He pauses.

Something about this interaction isn't stirring his temper like it should.

He should be absolutely livid with anger, or at the very least blowing your eardrums out with a 'shut the fuck up,' at full Astartesian line-command volume.

Yes, he should be seething, and yet he's not. To his surprise, he's actually feeling more enthused than anything.

This feels... exciting, almost.

"You've only grown the backbone to talk back to me because I fucked one into you," he remarks sharply in reply.

You sputter, and go red, robbed of your words.

"Or maybe this is mere performance," He adds with a sneer, tipping his chin up proudly.

You roll your eyes and let out a dramatic puff of air, "Y-You're such a..." you start, but your voice tapers off—and you look away, pouting.

"I'm a... what?" He taunts, leaning close.

You grumble, apparently feeling brave again; meeting his gaze and puffing yourself up.

"You're a bully," you hiss, clearly upset but undeniably frazzled enough to be somewhat ranting again as you add, "A bully w-who's so disgustingly egotistical you've convinced yourself you're some great conqueror or... something... j-just for having been in me, as if I've never put anything in myself before."

Oh, but wait, Cato likes the idea of that. He likes it so much he completely forgets to acknowledge the insults in your statement prior. He likes the idea of you suffering like he had been—alone, yearning—aching for something you didn't know the dizzying reality of. He can imagine you smothering your sounds, those blessed whines he's got memorised, into a pillow in that cushy little quarters of yours, squirming on your meagre fingers, or maybe cold silicon. You didn't need that lesser imitation now. Cato'd gladly fill that role. He'd gladly fill that hole, too.

Nonetheless, he immediately wonders who you were getting off thinking about.

He'd streak the length of the ship for it to've been him you'd been fucking yourself over.

"Who were you thinking of?"

You blink at the completely offhanded question, then start sputtering, stalling.

"What? I-I—" you stammer, "That's not important or relevant—I just... did it, it's—"

"Keep lying and see where it gets you," He cuts in, raking you with an aggravated frown, and oh, excellent, you're starting to relearn he's not fond of your half-truthing, finally.

You duck your head a little, cringing under his gaze, trying to scoot yourself backwards. But there's nowhere to go.

Cato realises belatedly that in the middle of your antics, the sleeve of your robe has started to fall from your shoulder. His brain short-circuits momentarily with the sheer amount of air that floods his head. Your warm, soft skin on display just for him. He didn't get to see all of you last time. He felt a good portion of you, yes—but he didn't get the chance to admire acknowledge the whole vista. Not because he was too desperate to rut against to try. Or because he was probably going to swoon like a fool if he did. Shut up, he's no coward. Afterall, his hands had been close to your chest, but now—now he can actually look.

He's going to absolutely ruin that lovely canvas you've given him.

"Nobody," you say softly.

"Groxshit," he snaps.

"Fine—" You swallow and start scrambling for a response, "Malum C-Caedo."

Cato genuinely cannot help but bark a laugh at that, "Spare me, you haven't even met the man, moron—you're only saying that because your most recent reading was on his last briefing," he rolls his eyes. "You forgot I was there with Guilliman when you were given it."

You look at him like a cornered little mouse, and finally—finally, your sleeve falls just enough that he's given a perfect view of one of your tits.

"You already..." you grumble softly. "You already know who, then, so I shouldn't even have to dignify this."

"It's me, isn't it?" He asks darkly, and while he tries to sound haughty, the fact he's thrilled by both the notion and the sight of your partial nudity ends up warping his tone into a vaguely manic chuff.

You glance aside and stammer loudly, "N-No."

No, you say—but he hears your little heart flutter. And sees your pupils dilate.

"I hope you're aware you can't lie to save your life," Cato drawls.

Your gaze snaps back to his, and for a brief second, your expression is flushed with embarrassment; until it changes to a sour little scowl.

"I'm not a bad liar, you're just an Astartes—" you start furiously, but check your flustered anger.

Cato smirks.

It's not a completely clean victory, but it's good.

It means his own lusting madness is at least reciprocally vindicated.

And at that realisation, Cato's impulse control violently loses balance; and he's painfully aware he cannot, for the life of him, contain the hungered almost purr-like sound that crawls up his throat.

You go back to looking transfixed at that, and he pauses.

There's something... pulling him in even more than before. He feels as if he's taken the bait, and the hook, and the line and sinker—hell, he's taken a good bit of the rod, too. Everything's a little too heated, and he's got an innate, intuitive feeling you're just as wound up as he is—wait. He breathes in deep and slow, and scents the air. Throne, he may as well have been cold-clocked at the temple by a Dreadnaut for all the innate information he suddenly receives. You're quite frankly drenched in want. You're getting off on this. Smothering him in a dizzying biological chant of hormones that scream—fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.

He leans close, and puts a hand on the arm-rest; the other palm slowly moving towards your chest.

Your eyes follow it—but you voice no complaints nor rejections.

Justified now, he's ecstatic. And your skin is as perfect to the touch as he remembers.

His hand looks huge compared to the breast cupped in it, idly toying with the consistency of the flesh in his grasp. It's much softer and malleable than he thought it'd be. Almost like a water-skin. Thumb depressing your right nipple, before drawing a thoughtless circle.

You sigh lightly and relax a bit, and Cato takes that as another open invitation.

He uses the same hand to tug away the fabric from your other shoulder.

Quick as anything, he's practically stuffing his face against you without any real warning, ignoring your flinch at his haste. Cato's letting the urges he'd withheld in that wretched shack out. And it's so worth the wait. He groans, licks a fat band over your left breast, and worries at the perked little bud with his teeth until you're squirming; only to drag his attention up to nip at your fragile throat.

You're breathing hard, and you open your mouth as if about to speak—but ever spiteful, Cato rewards your attempt with the drag of his tongue and the press of his teeth; and that promptly shuts you up. The faint salt on your skin isn't half bad of a thing either, honestly. He rather likes it. It tastes like how you smell—and he's absolutely luxuriating in it. It makes it all the easier to map your chest from the curve of your breast to your collarbones, garnishing you with eager drags of his tongue and mouth-wrought bruises.

And now you're glorious. The marks on your skin are vivid—he's guaranteed you won't be wearing anything showy for a good while. No lovely vile plunging necklines for you to display to bastard dignitaries. Not unless you want to explain why they're Cato Sicarius sized. They'll also be a good reminder to you of exactly who's superior.

You're still too dazed by his efforts to realise the extent of his actions, but he knows exactly how hot and bothered it's made you. That honeyed reek of arousal is driving him insane.

Urged on, he digs a hand down and around your back and drags you off the lounge. Manoeuvring to turn so his back rests against the lip of the lounge, nigh dumping you before him on the rug.

"W-Why...?" You blink, stunned for a second before righting yourself and meeting his eyes. Cato's sat himself cross-legged, before letting them unfold, one tenting and the other splaying out.

"I did all the work last time," he starts impatiently, and leans up to grab you by the forearm; bringing your hand close close to the cradle of his hips, "Now it's your turn to do something for once."

...Cato's not sure you're actually listening, because he could've bet his helm you'd've become irate at that statement if you were. That, and you're glaring between his thighs.

Ironically, he also almost instantaneously finds he doesn't really care to continue the train of thought. Not when you trace the engorged bulge of him through the folds of his tunic. Groping at the base, before smoothing your palm to the rounded tip.

There's no accursed buttons between him and the open this time, thankfully—and that means he can simply tug aside the folds of his layered tunic and bare himself from the belly down.

His cock lays fat and heavy with blood, smearing precum as it moves from his navel to leftward on his hip when he straightens up.

You're staring.

He scoffs at your apprehension and says, "Alternatively, perhaps you can—"

A soft, "Shhh," leaves you.

He snorts like a big, angry stock horse, brow raised. No baseline, regardless of rank, would dare treat Cato like this; none would dare even think to treat to him like this. Except you now, apparently. You forget your station, your place. Making demands of an Astartes is nowhere near your clearance. Your best option is to implore, not command. Yours is to nod your pretty thick head and smile your fair rotten little smile and obey your betters.

"Did—did you just shush me, woman?" Cato's nigh instantly consumed by a rush of anger at the sheer audacity, sneering. "In what reality do you think you've any right to shush me? I'm Commander of the Victrix Honor Guard, Grand Duke of Talassar and High Suzerain of—"

Of... of something.

Suddenly your insolence is inconsequential to him. All that matters is the smooth glide of your dainty hand on his cock, and the sight of your thumb and pointer being unable to wrap around and meet given how thick he is.

You look up at him slowly for a second, before your focus returns to apparently sussing out how best to saddle him. It's a timid gesture, like you're anticipating overstepping—you're cautious.

He's about to remind you of the fact you've taken him before, so Cato's proven he fits and all this coyness of yours is arbitrary. But he guesses the point is moot when you're suddenly already stradling his hips.

With one small hand finding a place on his stomach, and the other holding his cock straight beneath the obscurity of your garbs, he feels you lower yourself enough to make contact; testing before offering a little more urgency.

With an agonisingly careful roll of your pelvis, the head of his cock catches against the soft ring of muscle at your entrance for a second.

He grumbles despite himself.

He can't watch his cock sink into you like last time thanks to the curtain of your robe, but at least he can certainly feel every millimeter of it happening.

Tight heat feels like a death shroud over his mind as he draws a blank on anything else.

And finally—finally he's stuffed down to the hilt—and oh, he's filled you to your end just like the last time. Throne, he's drunk off the spongy heat the thick head of cock is squared right up against.

This position's made your cunt just that bit shorter inside thanks to gravity.

You whimper, clearly trying desperately not to start shaking.

You start shaking anyways.

He's fascinated by the small, restless palms now pressed flat and trying to find a counterpoint on his broad, tunic'd chest. Soft and un-calloused aside from the small bump of a pen's rest on your writing hand. Everything about you is warm and soft. Inside and out, you're all his.

He exhales harshly through his nose and blinks, gaze shifting from your hands to your tits, then to your face.

You wear an even more flushed expression now, overwhelmed, with all your focus on him.

Right where it always should be.

"Hurry up," he grunts sharply.

You swallow hard, and promptly drop your gaze.

You, surprisingly, manage to lift yourself up despite your theatrics. And, little by little, he watches you strain up until just the tip of him is still buried in you.

Angling yourself, you keen, carefully sinking back down on his cock and reeling at the stretch again as you settle, ass meeting his dense quads with a soft plomf.

He can see you biting back a moan, pointless as the act is.

"Keep going," Cato grits out, "I didn't tell you to stop."

You frown halfheartedly, and your insides clench around him despite yourself.

You start a slow rhythm, the noise of colliding skin on skin echoes in his ears. Slick friction, and fucked-out, half-stifled cries. Your pace quickening. Riding him. Using him at your own leisure, like the precious wretched little thing you are. You repeat the same dizzying motion again and again, and again—rising and sinking—up, down, up, down; until it's clear you've found an angle that hits something just right, sending you over the edge with a rattling gasp.

A low groan crawls up the back of Cato's throat and slips free without restraint.

He's barely able to cope through the tight squeeze of your orgasm around his cock; but he steels himself, winning the fight to not spill in you right then and there at that. No small thanks to the furious couple hours he'd spent earlier in the simulated night cycle furiously attending his urges.

His calloused mitt can hardly compete with the nigh painfully silken clench of you. And the view—Throne, to simply watch is a level of spectacle he can't even put into words. It's nothing short of hypnotic seeing your face soften with fucked-out delight—he can't believe he'd ever thought it was good the first time around when he hadn't even seen you meet your end.

You stop suddenly, seated to the hilt, trembling and oversensitive—grinding back and forth, nails digging into his pectorals through his tunic.

"Just... n-need t'catch my breath..." You whimper, and that debauched tone wreaks havoc through his mind. An unceasing urge to pound you to tears overtaking what little sense he has left. It's the ravenous fact that you, the little parchment-pushing temptress, are all tuckered out from cumming on him so quickly. He's preening at the fact he feels that good to you—oh, he's going to send you limping back to your quarters.

He wants to watch you break.

"You lazy little cunt, you can't do a thing right, can you?" Cato groans, your thighs twitching as he lifts you by the hips and makes you sink back down.

He gets the treat of seeing your eyes swim back in your skull, dumb with sensation.

Lulled by the reedy, oversexed moans slipping from you with each motion; and he can't help but start thrusting up, matching pace.

"Hardly even four and a half minutes—and you're a mess, absolutely useless." He heaves, dropping you to full-hilt for a second to manoeuvre you better. You're nigh but a gasping dead-weight, delirious.

If you're going to act the entitled bitch, he'll screw you into something alike submission. Which is exactly why he's then pulling out, shoving you against the lounge on your back; and moving your thighs to bracket his hips as he half kneels on the rug. Just to slide himself back inside, balls-deep in willing flesh. The only dignity he affords you then is the space to wrap your arms around and behind his shoulders. Which you rightly do without demand.

Hold on, was the unspoken order.

Then he's fucking you into the lounge like his life depends on it. He's glad to notice it's bolted down, but the damned thing creaks—nonetheless, he can barely even hear it over the perfect sounds you're making.

Rolling his bottom lip between his teeth, barely holding back the noises that choke his own gullet.

"You're so damn lucky you're a nice tight hole," he rasps harshly, "That's all you're good for, hm? For me to fill?"

There's a gutting sort of beauty in the way you're looking up at him with open desperation. He's trying so hard not to fall victim to the siren call of it, but it's perfect vile and he can't help but fold. He'd kill for that look to never leave your face when your eyes fell on him.

"Fuck, I must be in your womb at this rate—would you like that? My load in your womb?" Cato says between a great lungful of air, only to start huffing madly to himself when you nod drunkenly. "Good, because that's exactly where i-it's going."

Mind reeling with every resounding sticky slap of his balls against you, paired with scorching wet slide of him pumping in and out of you. You're crying, all your sensibilities lost in the thorough pace he's ploughing into you with; trying to pull him in by tugging at his shoulders, but with your meagre strength it's merely a vague suggestion.

Still, he leans into it, if only to finally seize the chance to lap the tears off your cheek, and you sob; trying to turn nose to nose with him. Your pathetic pawing at his broad back only exacerbates the overwhelming urgency in his blood.

He's so close.

Bliss crests up like a tide inside him, building and building, stunned with how it makes him buck into you. He's dazed in a way he surely wasn't designed to be resilient against. He can't even shut his damn mouth to stop moaning—and only technically manages to do so when you cover it with your own the very second he's about to finish; your legs squeezing impotently down on his hips, trembling through another climax.

His nerves light up like an orbital barrage, body rocking against the pretty, willing thing below him that you are. He has no idea what's going on beyond that. Are you kissing him? Is that what you're doing? Half his brain is stunned by the idea and the other half is flooded by the rushes of pleasure in his system making his tendons cramp, ravaging him with the sound of his hearts thudding in his ears.

Working himself right into agony; he's tensing against you as he empties himself as deep as he can. His pace finally breaks pattern and staccatos as his mind leadens.

Lulled by the molten satisfaction that swamps him soon thereafter, Cato blindly tries to chase forward and keep your lips on his. Emphasis on tries. He thinks he likes it, foreign as the sensation and sentiment is. He's got his tongue in your mouth, but no real clue what to do beyond lapping further in like a man dying of thirst—and then, of course, you decide to start weakly thrashing for air, blunt teeth grazing against the invading muscle—so, with a miffed groan; he pulls away, drooling as he slumps front-long against you and the lounge with a rumbling sigh, letting his eyes close as he basks in the afterglow.

You're panting still, nosing against the nape of his neck—likely having difficulty respiring under his weight—but despite that, you're still twitching around his spent cock, just like last time.

Wistfully, he wonders if he could sleep with you stuffed full of him like this. Slotted together and absolutely buried in your cunt; reaming you out as far as your small frame will allow. He enjoys the idea of that, and of holding you close.

He listens meditatively as your breathing steadily evens out, a soft in-out rhythm he can hear start in your chest only to feel warmly dancing across his collarbone a moment later.

Your small hand glides up the back of his trapezoid and combs through the short hair at his crown.

He shivers almost immediately at the act, thoughts clouding. He doesn't know what he's supposed to do, now. He can't really bring himself to do anything. He's locked in. It's like he's been sedated, or scruffed about the neck. Then your fingers trace the bare skin behind his ear, and he snaps from the trance enough to crack an eye open to glance down.

"Don't push your luck," he bites out automatically and leers away.

You immediately stiffen, and lurch yourself back—seemingly completely confused.

He's not exactly sure why he reacted that way either, but he's certainly not going to address it.

Ultimately, he opts to pull his cock out of you with scant decorum rather than linger on the topic. Then he settles into a kneel as he eyes the soaked-in stain below the bunched-up fabric of your robe.

"Well," he snorts.

And damn, it's difficult to hold a straight face at the overdramatic, painfully oblivious pout you shoot him.

So, Cato just continues watching you with a cruel sort of satisfaction as you sit yourself up shakily, and realise the mess.

You blanch, promptly shutting your legs and fussing—your ass is half stuck to the fabric of the lounge by your own slick and his spent when you move to stand on shaky, unsure legs.

He's aware of the fact you're after something to wipe away the aftermath. But he's far too content observing you struggle for the moment. Pleased, even. Especially when he's treated to the cringing gasp that slips from you when his semen no doubt starts dripping down your thighs.

You're panicking within seconds. He can hear your heartbeat quickening, plus the acrid tang of baseline stress hormones pervading the room.

There's nothing to spare. Unless you want to leave another smear across the lounge cushioning, but he doubts you'd go so low. He, however, has no such reservations—and yanks the plush velour padded square up to wipe his cock off. It's not as if he wasn't going to toss it down one of the incinerator shafts on the library's second floor anyways.

"Do—" you begin softly, but amend yourself, "Would y-you have anything... to..."

He stares at you, brows furrowed.

Floundering now, you waddle close and swallow harshly.

"To... wipe this up?" You finish, barely a whisper. He can tell you're sour at the fact you're stroking his ego and essentially too full of him to go anywhere.

Cato scoffs, holding up the seating cushion, "What? Too spoilt to use this?"

You cringe at him, "People have sat on that—hundreds of people, probably. I-I don't have your immunity to infection."

Cato cedes on that point at least, because he assumes being a baseline is hell. And so very not his problem, too.

Completely out of left field, comes the temptation to lick you clean. His mulish hind-brain reasons it's a brilliant idea, namely because you'd likely be squirming for him again. Even if he has no real idea of what to do beyond that. Lap at your clit, probably—he's not actually done any of this before except—well, except just slamming into you. He has the basic gist of all of this from biologis graphics and pornographic motionpicts. Yes, the latter are technically contraband on Ultramarine chapter vessels—Throne, he actually remembers when that was put into force. He was still green behind the ears when that'd happened. But those specific brothers had displayed it for abstract amusement, not... it's intended purpose—rather: 'Lo, look at this curiosity, brothers! See they're fornicating, how very so strange! Baselines am-i-right?'

Honestly, it's never actually anything heretical, except for maybe the terrible acting.

He'd deem that punishable by death.

Regardless, Cato's guessing the process of licking something can't really be some sage art form. Not like duelling, and fuck, he's stellar at that. He's stellar at almost everything, he reasons. So why not that? You're such a wanton little thing he'd probably make you finish on accident.

Yet he decides against it as soon as the logical part of his brain boots back up. Largely given the fact he's probably already going to have a hard time as it is trying to avoid others on his way to mask the stink of sex. His brothers have keen noses, it wouldn't be difficult for them to notice the smell of you on his way to his chamber if he's not careful. Let alone if it's smeared all over his face. Next time, however—

"Surely it's not that bad," he says off-handedly.

A surge of shame appears on your face as a red, blotchy belt across your cheeks, and you seem about to protest before he grumbles.

"Still, you really ought to find a solution," he remarks idly, and he notices the implication isn't lost on you.

You frown softly, and wrinkle your nose at him.

"Maybe some manners would help you achieve your goals," he adds, with a clearer spite.

Your frown grows nigh comically harsh.

Cato grunts wryly, satisfied at your annoyance and paws at the hem of his tunic—tearing a portion off and holding it out to you.

You grab the edge of it and tug, but he doesn't let go.

"And what do you say?"

"Thanks," you answer hastily.

He raises an eyebrow and pulls the torn fabric back towards himself ever so slightly, causing you to over extend closer to him.

His stare stays locked on yours, and he gets the treat of watching you dither and fluster under his focus momentarily before you amend, "T-Thank you..." you swallow, and break eye contact, adding; "Commander Sicarius."

"Was that so hard?" Cato scoffs, especially thrilled as he lets go of the scrap—eyeing you as you trot aside, and gingerly begin to wipe away the mess of satisfaction coating your thighs and rear.

When you're decidedly done, you stomp back over to him and hold out the soiled fabric.

He reaches for it, only to have it promptly pulled away.

Cato scowls, and takes a step forward into your space—only for you to inch forward into his.

You're tormenting him then, he decides; or rather he thinks. He's not sure. You don't look smug—you look... nervous? Your lips have drawn into a thin line and you keep glancing between his eyes and behind him randomly.

"What?" He huffs, narrowing his eyes.

"Lean down," you mumble, then quietly make the additional effort of throwing in a "...please."

Cato grumbles at the request but complies, and Throne, he's glad he does; because suddenly you're up on your tip-toes, your hand on his jaw—and your lips are on his cheek.

He blinks, dumb as a mule. It's over as fast as it started and he can't even begin to unpack the elation he's abruptly feeling.

Heedless of his dazzled state, you clear your throat with a bashful laugh—and then the rag is suddenly stuffed into his open hand. He's still frozen there as you practically rush out the room, scooping your previously flung data-slate up as you frantically wave the door mechanism open and vanish from view.

A long wheeze escapes his throat in the empty room, his face thudding with heat.

Oh, he's fucked fucked.

[maya1525]

After-School Activities

18+ MDNI

Pairing✩࿐Fem!Reader X Satoru Gojo, Toge Inumaki, Megumi Fushiguro, Yuuta Okkotsu

WARNINGS✩࿐unprotected group sex in the classroom, Male Teacher x Female Student, overstimulation, teasing, praise, size difference, Fem! Receiving oral, anal, vaginal sex, cream pie, choking, tit-fucking, multiple Fem!Reader orgasms

BONUS✩࿐Reader gets fucked in a skirt

Word count✩࿐7.1K

Summary✩࿐This is part 2 to my jjk series (reading part 1 isn’t necessary plus it’s private anyways) The school changed the living situation for the students and they have to live in shared apartments. The reader is living with Megumi Fushiguro, Yuuta Okkotsu, and Toge Inumaki. She is being shared among those three as their girlfriend. Satoru Gojo figures out what’s going on between the four students and (for his own selfish desires) decides to give them a lesson on how to please the Fem!Reader.

A/N✩࿐I made a few minor changes to this fic, I hope you like this updated version better. Not sure where my mind went when I wrote this… I hope you enjoy it, I had fun writing from multiple viewpoints.

“How long have you been standing there?” Questioned Megumi as Yuji leaned against the island casually.

“Oh, you know. Like ten minutes. I’m surprised none of you heard me come in. Yuuta was taking too long to grab his running shoes, so I came up to see what the hold-up was. Gotta say I’m impressed.” Yuji smiled, eying all of you with approval. “It was like I was watching a porno in real life!” Megumi let out an irritated groan at his friend's choice of words, while Yuuta face-palmed himself

“Shoot, I completely forgot you were waiting for us! Sorry man kinda got distracted.” Okkotsu flushed as he picked his t-shirt up off the floor. Toge pried you from Megumi’s lap and covered you up more efficiently with the blanket. Not liking the fact that Yuji eyed you with such lust. He pulled you into his arms protectively and led you upstairs to your bedrooms.

“Aww, so is that a ‘no’ then? It’s ok, I won’t tell anyone about your guys’ interesting relationship!” Called out Yuji from the kitchen, you let out a little giggle. To be honest, you never thought of Yuji in that way before. But if you were ever given the chance, would you let Yuji do you? You pushed the thought away as you shakily walked up the stairs, hanging on tight to Toge’s hand. Yuuta followed close behind with his hand on your lower back for support. Toge led you guys to his bedroom and personal bathroom. You’ve showered in his bathroom a couple of times before, typically after sleeping and having sex in his room. The smell of his sandalwood-scented candle always made you feel invited.

Inumaki got the bath ready for you, while Yuuta pulled you into him for a sweet hug, “You did so well taking all three of us for the first time.” You felt his smooth voice through his chest. He pulled away to smile down at you fondly, but then a shocked gasp left his lips. “Inumaki, look what you did to her!”

Toge brought his attention from the bath's temperature towards you, his expression changed to an excited one. He quickly got up and turned you to face the mirror. There on your face, you had his matching cursed speech markings.

This was a side effect of your cursed technique, which allows you to digest any curse user's DNA and mimic their abilities (to a lesser extent). Depending on how much DNA from someone you consume the effects of their techniques will vary.

Toge eyed you proudly and tilted your chin upward to his face. He opened your mouth to look at your tongue. He nodded as a gorgeous smile formed across his features, his viper seal was on your tongue just like his. He pulled you close to his lean porcelain-colored chest and gave you a gentle kiss.

Toge and Yuuta carefully removed the soft blanket from your naked body and led you to the nice warm bath. They took turns washing you as carefully as possible. They treated you as if you were a delicate doll. You felt so relaxed you snoozed off a bit in the bath. You groggily remember Toge carrying you to his bed afterward, and then Yuuta kissed your forehead before he left.

You woke up slightly when you felt Inumaki’s smooth hands run across your skin, as he rubbed lotion on you. Not a single part of your body was missed. His fingers ghosted over your nipples, across your stomach, and dipped down between your sensitive thighs, causing you to shiver.

“Toge, I’m cold. Cuddle me.” Your words melted his heart, he could never say no to you, especially the way your soft voice sounds extra cute when you’re sleepy. He covered you up in his dark gray comforter and pulled you into him. Snaking his arms around your waist, while resting his lips on the back of your neck.

Megumi felt guilty about how marked up your neck was from him, but secretly he couldn’t help but feel a flash of pride knowing he was the one who left them on you. He let you wear his uniform shirt to help hide the hickeys since it had a turtle neck. It was extremely baggy on you because of how petite your figure was. Your school uniform was a black button-down short-sleeve shirt paired skirt that fell midway down your thighs, along with black thigh-high socks. His turtle neck covered your face partially, but when you’d move slightly or speak, Toge’s curse speech marks would become noticeable. During class, you got a few curious glances from the girls, Satoru even flashed Toge and Megumi a proud and knowing smirk.

“And that’s it for our lesson today,” Gojo said clasping his hands together, everyone stood up and began to grab their belongings. You were about to head out of the door when Gojo spoke up once more, “Y/n you wouldn’t mind staying a little later to chat, would you?” You froze right in your tracks; Megumi, Toge, and Yuuta all shared shocked looks for a split second. “Don’t worry boys, she’s not in trouble,” Gojo smiled devilishly at their reaction.

“Uh- yeah, that's fine Sensei.” You said politely.

Once everyone else was gone and the door closed behind your boyfriends Gojo leaned back in his chair as he eyed you through his blindfold. “So, how are things going?” He said nonchalantly with the smirk on his face never faltering.

“Good.” You found yourself fiddling with the waistband of your skirt nervously.

“And your living situation? It looks like those three are treating you well.” His smooth voice rang out.

“Yes, they’re all very nice to me,” You sighed warmly.

Gojo let out a hearty chuckle, “Oh, no need to be so mousy.” He stood up from his chair and placed both of his hands on his desk, leaning towards you in a dominating manner, “Like I said you’re not in trouble... Do you have any idea why I asked to speak to you?”

“No-” You said shortly, but then changed your mind “Well, is it because of my... appearance?”

Satoru snickered once more, “Right on the nose!” He praised, “My first question is-“ He lifted his index finger to represent the number one, but then he hooked the Megumi’s collar at your neck. He pulled down the fabric to expose your neck covered in possessive love bites. Now Toge’s cursed speech marks on your cheeks were visible as well. You gasped in shock.

“Did Megumi leave those on you? Hmm?” You were appalled, he then gently gripped your jaw and tilted your head side to side as he inspected further. His presence was so overwhelming, that you felt too nervous to speak. A familiar feeling in your stomach began to stir up, arousal.

“Aww, cat got your tongue?” Gojo cooed with fake pity. “That’s ok, you don’t have to answer me. It’s written all over your pretty face. But please answer this next question; Toge emptied himself in your mouth, didn’t he?” His dirty words caused you to shudder.

You were beyond flustered, “Yes, he did.” You said defeatedly, and Gojo’s smug look increased.

“I’m guessing Yuuta’s involved too?” Satoru hummed as you felt a faint blush creep across your cheeks. You nodded shyly. With his grip still on your jaw he placed his middle and index fingers against your lips - they looked so kissable to him.

“Are you able to use your cursed technique through saliva? I’m curious to see how long it can last through a kiss-“ he cupped your face firmly and brought his hot lips to yours. His tongue snaked its way into your mouth for a split second. You were too shocked to move or believe that this was happening!

Your phone in your skirt went off, someone was calling you! You tried grabbing it but Satoru beat you to it. Your phone screen had said that Yuuta was calling, he slid to answer with his thumb as he kept his fingers on your lips.

“Hello?” He hummed smugly, bringing your phone close to his face and putting it on speaker for you to hear.

“Oh, uh- hey Gojo, I’m guessing that you and Y/n are still talking then?” Yuuta said in a confused tone.

“Yeah, we’re still talking,” Gojo said smoothly, with a wicked smirk. If he wasn’t wearing his blindfold he would’ve winked at you.

“Um, well are you guys almost done? Just wondering, since I’m outside waiting for her.” Yuuta explained.

“We’re just finishing up, don’t worry.” Gojo paused, “Are Megumi and Toge waiting out there as well?”

Yuuta went silent briefly, “Yeah, we are.”

“Perfect! Why don’t you three come back inside? There’s something important I need to teach you guys.”

Gojo had you shirtless in seconds, the younger men were baffled at how effectively he undressed you down to nothing but your school uniform skirt. Your bra was particularly flung off by the flick of his fingers. They watched captivated as the experienced man stripped you. It was as if he was a skilled magician showing off an elaborate trick right before their eyes. He’s clearly done this countless times before.

All of their mouths water for you. The energy in the room shifted immensely. You could feel their longing eyes staring you down as if you were a delectable meal.

You felt so vulnerable sitting on Gojo’s desk with nothing on but your skirt on. He had you bring your feet onto the edge of its hardwood surface, and he gently guided your torso back with his large suave hands. He had you leaning on your elbows. “I’m having her in this position, so you can all see clearly what I’m about to do.” Explained Gojo in a matter-of-fact tone, he had all three of them sit at desks up close to his. “Make sure you pay attention to her reactions and her facial expressions.“

Satoru stood behind you so he was facing his students, he placed both of his warm hands on your shoulders. He massaged them lightly, “no need to be so nervous,” He whispered down into your left ear, “Relax...”

You tried your best to ease your nerves, but you couldn’t help but feel anxious. Gojo’s magical hands made you melt to his touch within seconds. ”Good girl.” He uttered under his breath, his seductive scent filled your senses with how close he had gotten to you.

His hands then slid across your collar bones and then he ghosted them down to your perky breasts. Groping them gently from behind, you held back a quiet moan as he teased your nipples delicately.

“Don’t hide your cute sounds darling, let them hear you enjoy this.” Satoru purred.

He then gave your breasts a rough squeeze causing you to tense up in pain, “Did you guys just see that? She doesn’t like it when I’m rough with her tits, be gentle with them from now on.” He then caressed your breasts again but this time much gentler.

Gojo moved his torso closer to your shoulder as if he were a snake enveloping its prey. He lowered his head down to your collarbone to give it a fluttery kiss, causing ferocious shivers to wake in its place. He grazed his lips up to your hickey-covered neck to place another kiss. “Ahh…” You sighed at the feeling.

“Her neck is extremely sensitive, Megumi you took advantage of that. Good job.” Gojo praised his pupil against the crook of your neck. He tested the waters and licked up your neck slowly, earning another sigh to escape from you. He loved how reactive you were being to his touch. Your cute little moans made a tight feeling swell in his chest (and in his pants), oh he will take his time and savor you for sure.

With his hands still lightly teasing and caressing your bouncy breasts. He brought his lips to your right ear, licking the lobe ever so fluently, causing you to arch your back instinctively. A lazy smirk made itself known on Gojo’s handsome features. No one has ever done that to your ear before and the heat from his breath alone gave you goosebumps. Right before everyone’s eyes, your nipples grew even more pebbled. Satoru delicately kissed your ear making you squirm with bliss. You felt your voice get caught in your throat at this new sensation. The neediness between your thighs increased tremendously. He hasn’t even touched you down there, but you could feel the dampness in your underwear skyrocket. As if the feeling wasn’t exquisite enough Satoru amplified your emotions tenfold by whispering in a voice too soft for anyone else to hear. “I bet you’re a soaking mess right now. You want me to take of that?”

“Okaka.” You heard Toge growl under his breath. You flashed your attention over to see Inumaki sitting at his desk with his arms crossed, his hardened gaze staring directly at his teacher.

“Don’t worry Inumaki, I’m just giving her some words of encouragement.” Gojo sighed lightheartedly. “Words are just as crucial as actions when it comes to the art of… seduction.”

Satoru placed his hot mouth back to your ear once more, initiating you to arch my back without thinking. He then removed one of his hands from your nipples and brought his index and middle finger to your lips, “suck 'em.” He ordered.

You obediently parted your lips slightly, and his long fingers pried their way into your mouth. They immediately went down your throat, your breath remained calm as you gently sucked them with ease. Your gag reflex has improved tremendously, compared to the first time you deep-throated. It was with Yuuta’s dick. He was so sweet and patient when you got used to the feeling.

“It’s ok, you don’t have to suffocate yourself.” Yuuta gasped out as you choked on him, his fists tightened around the sheets as he tried to calm down at the new wonderful sensation he was experiencing. You were curious to see how far he could go down your throat, so you forced yourself deeper onto him. You felt happy to give him so much pleasure with your saturated mouth. A few tears escaped from your eyes, and then shortly after your nose began to run. Regardless, you loved the way Yuuta’s sweet dark eyes rolled to the back of his head and how his black hair fell messily in front of his face. “You feel so good…” he struggled to say while you slurped his rod.

Remembering that now while you sucked on Gojo’s fingers, caused your panties to dampen even more. You flickered your eyes over to your boyfriends. Making eye contact with Toge first; you could tell by the look in his eyes that he wanted you. Megumi had a similar look on his face but was still curious to see what else Satoru planned on doing to you. While Yuuta had such a needy look on his face, he was turned on and fought the urge to run up to the desk and snatch you from his teacher's grasp.

Gojo’s words brought your attention back to him, “I’m impressed that they were able to corrupt an innocent beauty into such a little slut.” You naturally sucked on his fingers a little harder when he called you a slut. You’ve never been degraded before, but when he said that you felt even more turned on. Gojo chuckled, “Oh? Do you like being called a slut?” His voice sounded deeper than usual.

Satoru then moved to your other ear to tease you with his viper-like tongue. You pictured his tongue down between your legs and you couldn’t help but whine onto his fingers. Gojo was drunk with power at the moment, he got off to the thought of doing you right here and now in front of your boyfriends. His cocky smile not leaving his face throughout the whole ordeal.

He reluctantly removed his fingers from your mouth and got up from behind you. He kneeled at the front of the desk but still made sure everyone could see what he was doing. You felt his large hand sweetly touch your ankle. Then he ghosted his fingers up your shin and to your thigh, lifting your skirt to expose your drenched underwear.

“Aww you gotta little excited, didn’t you?” He announced, you felt so lewd when everyone’s lust-filled eyes stared directly at your wet panties.

To your disappointment Gojo didn’t even touch your underwear, you felt him place a hand on the inside of each of your plump thighs. He gave them a gentle squeeze causing you to gasp with delight.

“Yep, my suspicions are correct. Not only does your girl have an extra sensitive neck but her thighs are just as bad.” The way Satoru talked about you, reminded you of the way expert mechanics talk about cars. “Please tell me that at least one of you knew that?” He directed his attention to your three boyfriends.

“Shake-shake,” Toge spoke up, causing Megumi and Yuuta to whirl their heads in the cursed speech user’s direction. No one except you could notice the proud glint in Inumaki’s eyes.

“Oh? Do care to elaborate.” Satoru said to you as he gently rubbed your soft skin, erecting a sigh of delight to come from your lips.

“Toge likes to give me full body massages from time to time, which most of the time leads to…” your cheeks grew hot as if you weren’t already aroused.

Your thoughts drifted to when Inumaki discovered your sweet spots on the inner parts of your legs. You were on your tummy in his bed watching TV as he massaged your naked ass. He started with your neck and shoulders and worked his way down. You enjoyed the feeling of your ass being massaged by his slick lotion-covered hands. As soon as he slid a hand down onto your thighs a loud gasp of satisfaction came from you. Toge immediately pulled his hand away with the fear that he hurt you, “Takana?” His voice rang with concern as he brought his face in front of yours.

“It’s ok! You didn’t hurt me, it felt good but also sensitive at the same time.” You blushed.

The look in his eyes got what you meant, so he situated himself back behind you to rub your thighs again. He managed to make you whimper uncontrollably with his teasing hands. His curious fingers were delicate at first, but then increased pressure- which drove you wild. Your entire body twitched as you flung over to close your legs. You were greeted with a sly smile and a playful look in his gorgeous violet-colored eyes. “Inumaki, be nice.”

His reflexes were slightly faster compared to yours and managed to get a hold of your right leg pulling you into him, dragging your back across his sheets in the process. He flung your leg over his shoulder as his lips came crashing down on yours for a heated kiss.

Megumi fought the urge to fuck you on that damn desk himself. His pants felt unbearably tight as his dick grew harder for you. How did Gojo manage to get you so turned on when he hasn’t even touched your pussy yet? The desperate way you looked at him as Gojo teased your overly sensitive thighs, made him ache for you so badly. He knew that Satoru was experienced and was helping you guys unlock new ways to get their girlfriend rilled up, but he felt impatient watching him tease you so blatantly.

You became a squirming and whiny mess because of Satoru’s hands on your soft skin. You felt your walls crumbling from the inside, as you lost your self-control. You felt too hot, too turned on, and too empty. “I-I…” I want you to fuck me, anyone to fuck me. You couldn’t muster up those dirty words, so you babbled uncontrollably.

“Hmm? What is it dear?” Gojo’s lazy smile irritated you, he knew what he was doing but chose to keep you in this desperate state.

“You’re not- ahh,“ another wave of pleasure hit you hard, his damn hands were so close to your soaking core. “You’re not doing a good job.” You managed to say between gasps.

“Oh? Be more specific hun, what am I not doing a good job at? Is there something else you want me to do?” That bastard knew what he was doing.

Toge couldn’t help but feel a little envious of the blindfolded man. Yes, he did have good tricks that he planned on teaching them; but Inumaki wanted to be the one responsible for those cute gasps and moans coming from your mouth. While at the same time, he was intrigued at how unraveled you’ve become.

“I…” you trailed off once more, in your desperate state you still felt too shy to say it. His skilled hands were so close yet too damned far away. A sudden wave of bravery overcame you. You shifted your weight onto your right elbow and leaned forward with your left hand. You snatched one of Satoru’s hands and set it on your drenched panties. “Touch me here,” you begged.

Your beautiful pleading eyes and words melted Gojo’s heart, you sounded so adorably horny to him and he loved it. He ghosted his fingers along the line of your pussy lips causing you to grind your core onto his fingers for more friction. “You want me to touch you here?” You nodded, your voice caught in your throat with excitement. “Tell me that’s what you want.” Satoru taunted.

You glared at him when he pulled his hand away, “Please sensei.” You pouted, “Make me feel good.”

That’s all Gojo needed to hear, in one skilled motion he removed your saturated underwear. Yuuta’s mouth watered at the sight in front of him, it took all of his strength and willpower to remain seated and watch his teacher at work.

Your dripping cunt was now exposed for all to see. Gojo slid his fingers against your folds to gather some of your juice onto them. He brought his slick-covered fingers to his mouth to have a taste, as if he was trying a delicacy. “Heavenly.”

He then directed his attention to his students, “So when it comes to pussy worshipping there are three ways to go about it. Eating. Fingering. And fucking. I’ll demonstrate in that order.”

He placed his warm finger on your clit, prodding it gently, making you whimper with anticipation. His fingers suddenly swiveled around your bundle of nerves with such speed and pressure causing you to moan embarrassingly loud. All you could feel was a hot white pleasure, and you came immediately onto his fingers.

“Oh fuck.” Gojo groaned as he ripped his blindfold down around his neck and brought his handsome face down between your thighs to drink up your squirting liquids. You couldn’t believe you came that fast and that suddenly.

Megumi, Toge, and Yuuta watched astonished as you came onto Gojo’s fingers. They didn’t know you could finish that fast, they all wondered what else their teacher was capable of.

The feeling of Satoru’s skilled mouth drinking you up made you feel so hot. You never would have thought that something so lewd and inappropriate as this, would ever happen with him, which made you enjoy it more. He kept his sultry mouth on your pussy, expertly zigzagging his tongue over your wet folds. You saw his brilliant blue eyes look up at you friskily. His hands gently rubbed and gripped both of your thighs.

“Instead of directing your attention onto one part of her body at a time, it’s crucial to stimulate more than one area. This will make her a slutty mess for you.” He hummed against your slick privates, the vibration of his voice feeling so good you clenched your tight hole yearningly.

As if he knew your pussy craved attention, right on cue he plunged his tongue inside of you. “Mmh, Satoru!” Your cunt practically squeezed his tongue further into you, begging him to tongue fuck you. His skilled mouth sent you over the edge once again, you instinctively gyrated your hips as you rode out your second orgasm. His eager mouth enveloped your pulsating cunt as he drank from you again.

Yuuta was awestruck when he so you come undone again. He didn’t even know that it was possible for you to cum twice in such a short amount of time. He made sure to memorize the way his sensei moved his mouth on you.

Once Gojo finished drinking from you he reluctantly pulled his face away, revealing that the lower section of his face was glistening from your overly saturated cunt. He looked over towards his male students, they were all clearly turned on by how he made you so wet and ready. “All of you are going to eat Y/n out, Megumi you’ll go first.”

Megumi immediately got up from his desk with a starved look on his attractive features, he was more than willing to help contribute to making you feel good. His teacher scooted over and now Fushiguro was situated between your legs. “Show me what you know.” Satoru’s lustrous voice rang out into the quiet classroom.

Your boyfriend slid his tongue up your folds and onto your clit, erecting a sigh of bliss to come from your lips. He could grow addicted to the taste of your sweet arousal. He swiped his tongue over you again, but this time faster and with slightly more pressure. Fushiguro remembered how you became undone when Totality’s fast tongue slid across your clit so he copied that method. You squirmed underneath his hot mouth. Gojo smiled at how fast his young pupil was able to move his tongue on you. Without thinking Megumi brought two fingers up to your dripping cavern, but Gojo grabbed them with a knowing smirk, “Not yet, let’s give Yuuta a turn.” Megumi obeyed and unwillingly pulled his mouth away from you, as Yuuta hurried over, practically kicking his desk out of the way in the process.

“Fushiguro, why don’t you give your girlfriend some love while Yuuta eats her out?” Satoru purred as you felt his large hand stroke your thigh in a comforting manner.

Yuuta settled between your legs with a ravenous look in his dark eyes. Megumi leaned against the desk and kissed you passionately. You could taste yourself on his lips. The sudden feeling of pleasure woke through your body once more, as you felt Yuuta’s tongue swivel across your folds, in a manner similar to Gojo’s. “Mmm.” Your moan was swallowed by Megumi’s avid kisses.

Yuuta then lowered his mouth so he could tongue fuck you, while his slender fingers stroked your sensitive nub. Satoru was pleased that Okkotsu was focusing his attention in more than one spot, as he instructed. Yuuta burrowed his face between your legs as if he didn’t need air to breathe. Gojo was impressed by how enthusiastic Yuuta was about eating your pussy. The thought of teaching you to sit on his face while he ate you crossed his mind for another day of teaching.

“Let’s give Inumaki a turn before she cums Yuuta.” Satoru chimed while prying the dark-haired boy away from your soaking cunt. Okkotsu moved to the other side of the desk to kiss your neck, while Fushiguro and you frenched feverishly. Yuuta’s slick mouth trailed kisses up to your ear, making you writhe in ecstasy.

Inumaki unzipped his face covering and grabbed both of my thighs towards his face, similar to the way Yuuta did. You always loved it when Toge would eat you since the heavy amount of cursed energy coming from his mouth felt like static. He latched his lips onto your clit and sucked hard, “Inumaki!” You whined onto Fushiguro’s lips, the sensation was too much for you to handle.

You felt overstimulated; with Inumaki’s buzzing mouth down on you, Satoru’s eyes raking over your body, Megumi’s heated kisses, and Yuuta’s steamy mouth on your ear. All of which drove you to the edge completely. You arched your back and flung one of your hands into Toge’s platinum white locks, “Cum.” He mumbled against your sloppy cunt, you tried to clamp your legs down onto him from the intense feeling of your release but his strong grip on your thighs kept you in place. He drank from you as if we were a starved animal, his alluring face between your legs made you go weak in the knees.

After cumming three times now, you felt like a rag doll. They could all easily manhandle you if they wanted to, which you wouldn’t mind at all. Your exhausted gaze drifted downward to see that Satoru had the largest tent in his pants you’d ever seen. The thought of him squeezing his huge member inside of you made you shiver with anticipation and fear.

Satoru took the initiative and stuck his middle and index fingers inside your dripping entrance. “Ahh!” You moaned out enjoying the feeling entirely. Toge was still between your legs and began to lightly kiss and suck on your thighs, little did you know he was leaving hickeys all over them.

Gojo pumped his long fingers in and out of you in a steady rhythm. He loved how your walls clamped down on him whenever he went a little too deep. He then arched his fingers so they were stroking your G-spot. He lifted his hand from his firm grip on your hip and announced “This is what I’m doing inside of your girl right now. That will make her cum for sure.” While his other hand in the air mimicked what he was doing inside of you so everyone could see.

It was all too much for you, and you couldn’t take it anymore. All this teasing and touching your overly sensitive body, “just fuck me already.” You whimpered quietly. Not sure if you directed your words to your teacher or one of your boyfriends. You were too overwhelmed to care who did the dead. As long as you could feel one of them fill you up. A dashing smirk came over Gojo’s face. While you sensed Megumi and Yuuta exchange a glance with one another.

Gojo’s fingers inside you went still at your lewd request. “Here Toge, take over.” Gojo took his fingers out of you and licked them clean as he walked to the other side of his desk. He stopped behind you, with his blue iridescent gaze looking down at you. “If you want me to fuck you, I’m going to need your mouth on my dick first.”

You felt Toge’s slender fingers begin to pump in and out of you, as he brought his mouth down to your clit. Megumi and Yuuta shifted their attention to your breasts, each licking and sucking your nipples as if they were a treat just for them. Gojo unzipped his pants and his massive dick sprung free, ready to play as ever. You gasped at his size but weren’t surprised because of how tall he was. Satoru adjusted your head so it dangled off the edge of his desk. Your mouth watered uncontrollably as he lightly guided his dick to your lips. You licked his velvety tip first and then his entire length. Making sure his entire penis was coated with your drool. You carefully took one of his balls into your mouth to suckle, he let out a little hiss of pleasure.

“You’re doing so good.” Gojo purred with approval as he placed both of his hands on your head. You mustered up as much bravery as you could to take him down your throat. Immediately, panic began to arise in your chest, due to the lack of air; but that was soon replaced by your dirty thoughts, enjoying the fact that this was happening. I bet this looks so hot to him. You thought, and you couldn’t be more right.

The sight before Satoru was a moment he will never forget. Your small throat squeezed him snuggly, causing his dick to twitch with pleasure. He was able to see the outline of his massive cock in your throat. The way your mouth salivated uncontrollably, along with your tongue beckoning him further down made him crave you even more. He’d be satisfied finishing your mouth right here and now, but the greedier side of his personality wants to claim your pussy as his. And that’s just what he’ll do.

Gojo then took himself out of your mouth, and a long strand of your drool connected your lips to the tip of his dick. “Which one of you would like to take her ass?” Gojo asked with a deep voice.

Toge mumbled “shake-shake” through your cunt as he ate you. He lifted his head out from between your thighs, his lips shining with your wetness.

“Perfect, coat your dick with her pussy juice before you shove it in. So it doesn’t hurt her as bad.” His wise teacher instructed. Toge slipped three of his fingers inside your sloppy pussy to gather as much wetness as possible (which was pretty easy). He wiggled around inside of you, causing you to whimper uncontrollably. While his other hand unzipped his pants. He removed his fingers from you, making you feel suddenly empty and needy.

His lust-filled eyes stared at you as he stroked his dick with his wet hand. You were more than ready to get filled up. Satoru had Toge take your place on his desk so he was laying on it. Gojo picked you up as if you were weightless and had you straddle Inumaki in reverse.

You gingerly settled yourself onto Toge’s sprung dick. You felt grateful he was slick with your wetness, otherwise, it would’ve been a bit more painful.

“Ahh.” You heard a small groan of satisfaction come from him. Inch by inch, you let gravity take you down further onto him until he was in you completely. Your skirt hid what was going on below you two. You felt Toge’s nails dig into your hips from his firm grip on you. You could tell he holding back the urge to pump into you wildly. To calm himself, he began to gently kiss the back of your neck and ears. Making you shiver in response, your nipples instantly become pebbled.

Satoru had unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his well-toned muscles, his pants draped to his thighs and his dick stuck out proudly. He settled between your legs, lifting up your skirt. He guided his massive member to your wet folds. The anticipation caused you to whimper as he slowly pushed the tip inside of you. Gojo clenched his jaw with concentration as he focused on not plowing into you just yet.

You became a mewling mess, “I don’t think you’re going to fit.” You cried as Satoru shoved himself another inch into your slippery pussy. You could already feel him rubbing against Toge’s penis lodged up your ass and he was not even halfway in yet.

“Don’t worry hun, I’ll make it fit. Megumi, put her mouth to use.” Gojo groaned as your walls clamped down on his extensive member. “Yuuta climb on top of her and fuck her tits.”

Megumi did as his teacher instructed, his dark blue eyes gleamed down at you as you opened your mouth for him. Sucking on him hungrily, you enjoyed the taste of his precum leaking into your mouth. Megumi loved how enthusiastic you were for him, “Ugh... you’re such a good girl.” He groaned out as he caressed your head gently.

Yuuta agilely maneuvered on top of your torso, he put his weight onto his knees being extra careful not to squish you. He unzipped his pants to set his elongated member free. He spit down onto himself and guided your hand up to his dick to stroke him. You enjoyed his warm smooth texture. Pumping him quickly, you earned a few gasps of pleasure to come from his lips.

Satoru couldn’t take it anymore, and plunged himself deep into you, instantly hitting your cervix. A cute and muted, “Ahh! Sensei....” came from your stuffed mouth at the sudden feeling, creaming onto him. Your pussy pulsated around his rod with delight.

“Shit. Your slutty little cunt can’t handle me.” Gojo hissed under his breath, loving the fact that your body cums so easily for him. He settled into a solid rhythm, pushing in and out of your petite body. He made a note to get you for himself sometime. He’d love for you to moan his name, and see your adorable face distorted in pleasure because of him.

Toge, felt your release drip down onto his thighs and penis, which helped lubricate him. With the extra wetness, he increased his speed. He rapidly pounded up inside you. He bit down onto your shoulder passionately, his hot breath initiating goosebumps to rise on your smooth skin. “Oh Toge...” you panted onto Megumi’s dick.

Yuuta began to rub himself onto your supple bouncy breasts, his penis felt hot and hard against your squishy skin. He was able to get a perfect view of your gorgeous face. He loved the way your pretty eyes watered as you deep-throated Fushiguro. Even though what you were doing was incredibly lewd, he knew that in his heart he would protect you. He would kill for you, and there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for you. The thought of love crossed his mind, but was afraid to say that word too soon.

“Grip her neck Okkotsu.” Ordered Gojo from behind him, snapping him out of his ogling over you, “she’ll like it.” He heaved as he shoved himself into you once more.

Yuuta tentatively brought his lean vein-covered arm up, and his fingers went around your throat and gently squeezed. “Mmh.” You moaned out, enjoying the feeling of being at his mercy - especially from your shy and sensitive boy.

Hearing you whimper, awoke a dark urge inside of Okkotsu. The thought of fucking you with his hand around your throat made him pump his dick faster against your squishy and sensitive tits.

The way Yuuta’s dark eyes looked down at you with such dominance, caused you to clench your walls around Gojo and Toge suggestively. Erupting groans from both men inside of you. Gojo’s grand penis kept hitting your uterus with every stroke. He went in and out effortlessly because of how drenched he was from your soggy cunt. Satoru and Inumaki stimulated you simultaneously, their speed accelerated dramatically along with the power behind their hard thrusts. “You’re taking us so well hun.” Panted Gojo with approval.

Your legs began to tremble, you could feel your release building up again. You felt Satoru’s skilled fingers run against the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs feverishly. The sensations they made you feel were too much for you to handle, and you came undone. Drenching Satoru in the process.

You whimpered onto Megumi’s dick as his hips began to move a bit rougher against your mouth. Yuuta’s movements against your breasts had increased in tempo as well. “Ahh.” Yuuta sighed with pleasure, as strands of his cum squirted all over your breasts, painting you like a picture. His grip on your throat tightened, causing you to clamp down a bit more on Megumi’s penis lodged inside. Earning a groan of pleasure to come from Fushiguro. He sprayed himself down your throat and you drank him eagerly.

“Shit, her pussy is too tight and wet. I’m gonna cum.” Gritted Satoru through his teeth. He cherished the way your petite body welcomed him in so easily. He was clearly much too big for you but got off to the sick thought of that at the same time. He gripped your little waist tightly as he shot his bountiful load of seed deep against your cervix, knowing it’d reach your uterus in no time. Toge came shortly after, you could feel him pulsate through your ass as he released himself deep inside of your bowels. A delicious groan escaped his lips as he bit down on the back of your neck.

Megumi gingerly pulled himself out of your mouth and leaned down to give you a sweet kiss. Yuuta carefully hopped off of the desk, as Satoru removed himself from your used sloppy hole. His cum spilled out of you like a waterfall. His gorgeous blue eyes raked over the mess he made in you. He helped you up and off of Toge. Your legs felt like jelly when you stood up, so you leaned against Yuuta for support. He tried to help you put your bra on, but couldn’t get the clasps figured out. So Satoru took over as he explained how the contraption worked.

You felt Inumaki’s and Gojo’s cum drip down your legs from underneath my skirt. All of your clothes were a disheveled mess, but at least the walk from class to the dorm building was a short one. Toge sneaked his way over to you to hug you from behind, you rested your head on his shoulder sweetly. Megumi came in front of you two to kiss you passionately, “You’re so perfect.” He gave you a heart-melting smile with a quick hug, sandwiching you between Toge and himself. Okkotsu approached you from the right and gave you a small peck on the forehead, while you felt his comforting touch on your cheek.

Satoru walked up to you with an affirming look in his eyes. He brought his face down to yours to kiss you tenderly, “You were exceptional dear.” He hummed against your lips. “If you ever need anything, ask me.”

Abruptly, the door to the classroom opened, “Here’s my late homework Gojo!” Said an all too familiar voice, Yuji Itadori stood in the doorway of the classroom with a can of soda in one hand and a packet of papers in the other.

“Uhh, it smells like sex in here!” As soon as the words left his mouth a knowing look flashed over his face. He realized how messed up everyone's clothes were. Noticeable strands of gooey liquid rolled down your legs. “Did you guys-?” He cut himself off with pure shock and then his expression changed to a hurt one, “without me...���

Gojo briefly walked up to Itadori and took the packet of papers from him with a smirk. “As a matter of fact,” Satoru sighed lightheartedly, “we were just performing some after-school activities.”

Next

[st4rd0lly]

ohh for the valentines thing maybe pm dazai (like in dark era) + virginity loss?

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄 ?

cw : virginity loss , corruption kink , slight possessiveness + obsessiveness , gn reader , dom dazai , sub reader , biting , dacryphilia , he’s kind of pathetic in this , lovesick dazai ftw , not safe sex (please if you’re gonna fuck irl do it safe and do it right darlings, wrap that thang), MDNI

Dazai shouldn’t be seeing you.

He shouldn’t be seeing anyone for a matter of fact, this he knew this well. Everyone around him knew it too. The cold and brutal executive who had a penchant for toying around with people. You knew this too, in fact you knew it too well.

So why were you in this position now?

Pleasure wasn’t something Dazai actively sought after, at least not for himself. Sex was more of means to gain information, and he knew a lot of it. Outside of it being one of many tactics for the mafia, he wasn’t particularly interested in having such an intimate time. And yet he feels like his skin is on fire when he sees any inch of you, eyes focusing in on any part of skin showing. 

He tried to convince himself that this was just stupid lust, it’ll go away soon. You were just another mission partner, a fellow executive who tags along with him and Chuuya occasionally. You weren’t anything special to him, no not at all. You definitely weren’t the person he goes to when he had no one else to bother, and no, you definitely weren’t the person he gets reminded of the most. 

That would be pathetic of him. And it’s not like he enjoys being so casually touchy with you. He totally doesn’t reach to pull and hold your arm to walk around with you when he starts an argument with Chuuya, huffing and telling you to just follow his lead instead of that stupid ginger. And he definitely doesn’t like it when he rests his head on your shoulder or vice versa when you two are alone. Or when he tells his bar friends about you. No, that’s just some stupid cringey romance thing. He tells himself he’s too good for that stuff. 

So again, why were you in this position now?

His hands eagerly cup your face, his lips chasing yours each time you try to pull away for air. He wanted you to feel the way he does, how suffocating his love is for you. How each time he tried to pull away to breathe, you always pulled him right back in. But he realizes that unfortunately, he is a human who needs to breathe too, so he stopped momentarily for the both of you to catch your breaths. He wanted to dare not open his eyes but he was caught up in how they looked at him.

You didn’t look at him in pure disgust, or just pure lust. You looked at him with a hunger, a desire, an unfamiliar love that he was afraid of. But when it came to you, he was reduced to nothing but a lovesick yearner. And maybe he was ready to chase. 

‘I want you.’ were the words he wish he could’ve said out loud to you, you deserved to hear them. But like an angel, it was like you heard the prayer repeating in his mind. 

“I want you.” You whispered, your own hand reaching his cheek, the side where his eye was covered. He had to stop himself right then and there from melting and nuzzling into your touch. 

“Have me then.” He replied quietly, wanting to come off as confident but his words sounded vulnerable to you.

“You would be my first.” You chuckled a little, smiling at him. Then his head got dizzy at the fact. Did he care whether you were a virgin or not? Not really, because either way, he was determined to make you feel like it was your first time on a high. But there was that burned so deliciously in his chest knowing that he would be the first to touch you. And he was sure to be the last too. Just like he was yours, you were his. 

“First and only.” He grinned.

“We’ll see.”

And now that’s how you got into the position you were in now. 

“Aren’t you taking me so good hm?” He cooed into your ear, cock buried deep inside you with each thrust of his hips. He felt you squirm, watching your chest heave and pretty tears fall from your eyes from the pleasure. Oh there was nothing more than he adored than seeing you under him, falling apart so beautifully. And there was nothing more he loved hearing than your cute sounds, all the moans and whines and whimpers. Your adorable little pleas for him to stop being so mean.

You were just so his.

“You’re just too cute… filthy too huh? Letting me fuck you like this.” He laughed a little, as if he wasn’t drunk off of you entirely. He kissed your tears and moved his hips more harshly, letting you wrap your arms around his neck to keep him close. He was so close, he was so fucking close. He can’t even remember how many times the both of you came, he knew he should’ve been more gentle but god, you were like wine he wanted to indulge himself in every night.

He let out muffled groans into your neck, covered with love bites and marks from his relentless attacks and teases earlier. 

“D-Dazai…” You whimpered, your voice slightly hoarse from how much you were raising it earlier. It was the only thing you knew how to say at this point besides please and yes.

“G-God, fuck.. say that I’m yours.. You already know you’re mine. Please say that I’m yours..” He moaned, biting down on your neck. ‘Just a little more..’ He thought, but he didn’t even realize the words coming out like you did. But that’s all you’ve been wanting to say, you were just waiting for the right moment.

“You’re mine Dazai, fuck me like it.” You let out a small gasp before you yelped and felt him slam harder into you. You cling onto him tightly, one hand gripping his hair while the other scratched at the bandages wrapping his back. 

“C-Cumming..!” You both whined, before reaching your orgasms at the same time. His body collapsed onto you with him still inside, his cock twitching as he fills you up. You both pant, holding onto each other tightly, exhausted.

“So…” Dazai says after a couple moments of silence, wincing a little before pulling out. “First and only yeah?”

“First and only.”

dividers : @/cafekitsune

[drdemonprince]

Can u talk about the process of replacing your desire for unhealthy relationship dynamics that were sexually exciting with desire for explicitly negotiated kinky sex? or do I just need to wait for the essay lol

It's not actually in the piece but now that you mention it, it could make for a really strong narrative turning point.

It started by me cheating on my abusive partner with kinky people! I realized at some point during a two-year relationship in graduate school that was extremely toxic that I was so addicted to my partner because I was getting off on the control he exerted over my body and life. I wanted to get away from him, but I felt utterly dependent on how he made me feel, and he was already cheating on me...so I hopped onto OK Cupid and started flirting with some people.

It made me feel good, it made me feel like I could live on without him and build a new life for myself. I had a few fairly vanilla hookups with people at first, and it didn't do much for me, but one of those casual partners became a lifelong friend. Then a sexy, bombastic stand-up comedian who was just coming up in the local scene slid into my inbox, allured by the fact I described myself as shy. He was pushy and hyperconfident, which I liked. And when he asked me what kinks turned me on in bed, the truth came spilling out: Dom-sub.

(I wish I'd had the gall to tell him hypnosis, which had been a lifelong fetish of mine. This guy would prove to be fascinated by rare and niche kinks, but I was too ashamed of my hypnosis thing to tell anyone at that point).

The stand up comedian started domming me after that. He'd make me pay for his cab, throw me over a chair, finger me, and fuck me in the ass hard while biting my back and leaving massive welts. The sex was incredible. But he was also an egotistical 21-year-old with an active heroin addiction (he swore up and down to me that the drug 'wasn't a big deal'), and he started fucking me without a condom without my consent, which was traumatic and to this day is the reason I rarely receive anal sex. Ultimately he became controlling and jealous of my other (abusive) primary partner, and he left me, and then died of a heroin overdose after sending me a few more stray messages recounting good old times.

It was a mess. But I learned a lot about myself through this encounter, and practiced articulating what I wanted for the very first time. I was mistreated, but I also had incredibly hot sex that I still revisit in my mind's eye. I know for a fact that this stand-up comedian reviewed our own chat messages shortly before he died, and that he remembered those times fondly too. I feel bad that he died so young, and was so lost and confused, and I wish that he could have survived long enough to get better and make amends.

After that experience (and after escaping my primary abusive relationship), I got into a very safe, vanilla relationship for many years. I was too traumatized for anything else, and the gentle, passive boyfriend that I found was very healing to be with. But eventually I did get bored with the sex, and his lack of emotional availability, and became profoundly depressed. It was around this time that I started taking Sam-E , an over-the-counter anti-depressant supplement whose side effects include increased libido and a kind of dreamy headspace. On impulse, I started searching for erotic hypnosis play websites one day.

I met several hypo-kinky partners on the site I found, a now-defunct chat site called Sleepychat that would pair hypnotists with hypno-bottoms. One of them was a truly skillful, communicative, and caring partner who built a whole complex hypnotic architecture and series of safeties and triggers in my mind. We are still friends. I had lots of play with lots of people, and started attending a hypno kink convention that just so happens to occur in the Chicago suburbs. I became gradually more comfortable acknowledging my kinks to people, and made lots of hypno-kinky audio files and stories. I had other Doms and owners, and had lots of wild sex here and there. Still, my serious, long-term vanilla relationship limited me.

I only really started searching out formally kinky relationships in earnest in 2021, after ending that vanilla relationship. I've been pretty firmly embedded within a variety of kink scenes since. My taste for hypnosis led me to regular D/s, and to leather and bondage, and to pup play and furry stuff. I've really come alive in the last handful of years. I've learned so much about myself and the many scenes, met so many people, had so much great sex and so much mid sex and been in all kinds of wonderful and toxic and off putting and funny dynamics. This aspect of my life only keeps getting better, and I'm excited for lots of new experiences this year!

damn i just about gave you a full essay right here

[iamnmbr3]

When Harry witnesses Draco being forced to torture Rowle, he is extremely upset. Much more so than he typically is about these visions. There are a lot of very drarry implications. Let's break it down.

"Malfoy’s gaunt, petrified face seemed branded on the inside of his eyes. Harry felt sickened by what he had seen, by the use to which Draco was now being put by Voldemort.”

Notable points from this passage:

1) Harry understands Draco so well that he immediately takes for granted that he doesn't want to be using the Cruciatus curse. It never even crosses his mind to take this as evidence that Draco is now a willing torturer who enjoys cruelty or that he deserves to be in this situation for having chosen the wrong side and for his role in Dumbledore's death.

Nor does Harry think Draco is just scared and upset because he's afraid Voldemort might lash out at him too - which is what Harry would think if he saw any other Death Eater acting afraid around Voldemort. He clearly sees that Draco is horrified by the acts he is being forced to commit. And he also completely accepts that it is Voldemort forcing Draco to commit these acts, thus absolving Draco of responsibility.

2) Harry is DEEPLY upset by seeing Draco in this position. More upset than he ever is about seeing any other Death Eater being terrorized or hurt by Voldemort (Harry doesn't even spare one thought for Rowle for example!) Not only that. He's also more upset than he is about seeing Ollivander tortured. Or about seeing Voldemort murder a woman and her children later on while searching for information about Gregorovitch. He finds those visions alarming but he shakes them off pretty quickly.

The only comparable strong reactions are how he responds to his visions of Arthur Weasley and Sirius in book 5 - i.e. visions of people he knows and cares about in danger and suffering. And it's not even the scene as a whole that upsets him. It's specifically Draco - whose frightened face seems "branded" on the inside of Harry's eyes. Harry can't get the vision out of his head, feels sickened, and fights to keep his voice casual afterward. Even though Draco wasn't even actively being hurt.

So canonically Draco matters to Harry in a way that almost all other people don't. It's not generic nobility that gives Harry sympathy even for an enemy - because he doesn't feel this way about other Death Eaters. And it's not general pity that Harry would feel for any innocent hurt by Voldemort - because he doesn't feel that way about victims like Ollivander or the children Voldemort killed. It's the type of reaction Harry ONLY has to people he deeply cares about suffering or being in danger. Harry may not think of it that way on an intellectual level. But his heart knows it even if his brain doesn't. He cares about Draco Malfoy. A lot. He cares about him more than he cares about almost anyone else.

3) Also notable. Harry starts out referring to him as Malfoy but then switches to thinking of him as Draco as he starts worrying about him. (Yes. The drarry trope of Harry switching from "Malfoy" to "Draco" literally happens. IN CANON.) And he keeps thinking of him as Draco after that point. The next time Draco is referred to is during the whole sequence where the Golden Trio are prisoners at the Manor. Harry refers to Lucius by his full name multiple times, but consistently refers to Draco as "Draco" rather than "Malfoy" in his internal narration.

4) (Also the fact that Draco's face is described as "gaunt" hits me right in the feels. It seems that he's in worse shape even than he was when Harry last saw him at the end of 6th year. Sad but not surprising given the guilt that is probably eating at him over his role in Dumbledore's death, what he is now being forced to do as a Death Eater, and the very tangible dangers and suffering that come with being out of favor with Voldemort while having him in your house.)

Tldr: I don't need my ships to be canon but drarry is. jkr who? ;)

[gamblersdoll]

𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓫𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓵𝔂!-1

the hero system was fucked, to say the least.

youve interned at the hawks residence for some time to know that, yet, it still surprises you to the very day. the amount of villains whos been locked up but yet have somewhat a valid— no, a good reason of doing what they do. whether its to feed their families, feed themselves, help their parents because they cant do it, or simply show the fact that there are people in need but labeled as villains… whether by their mutant quirks or ‘unfit’ quirks.

you couldve been one of them, since you were labeled as a villain since your quirk first activated. even your own mother acted as such.

“gorgon, you ready?” tokoyami asked, bringing you back into reality and making a small pat in your back.

you give a soft smile, tilting your head and nodding. “yeah, lets go.” you say, smoothing out your hero form and patrolling around for hawks–meanwhile he chats it up with endeavor.

you were graduating soon from yuuei high… shit, time went fast. ontop of that, you were about to be a hero. something you desired since in the womb. but, something did feel sort of … off. as in your mentor.

he had been avoiding you sometimes, and you knew it. because he didnt do it with tokoyami, he casually talks with the kid most of the time. but with you? it was short and dry. especially when it was only you two since tokoyami had classes still.

and its like he wouldnt even look at you.

“hawks? can i talk to you?” you pull him to the side, apologizing to endeavor, yet he grunts a ‘i was done talking to him, anyway.’

“whats up?” he asks, he has that dumbass stance that pushes his hip’s forward but he leans backwards. oh well, you werent here to talk posture. you folded your arms, and he folded his too.

“why are you avoiding me? arent you supposed to be mentoring me and teaching me things to be a hero? how am i supposed to learn if youre just going to focus on one person but not both that you took in?”

“its in your head.” he deadpanned, adjusting his visors and looking down at you. “you think im avoiding you when im not. just relax, little one.” he reassured, patting your head and smiling.

you feel some sort of relief, yet, still confusion and suspicious. you nod, turning on your heels and walking back to patrol area, his eye twitching. he excuses himself into a secluded alleyway and readjusted his pants, along with clutching at his chest. more importantly, above his heart.

you catch on too fast, extremely too fast. it makes a good spy or undercover agent, but now? it was bad.

he steadies his breathing, rolling his eyes back and exhaling. fuck, do you understand how intoxicating your air was? you had to have known. yet, you seem so oblivious. he pulls himself together, getting back to the group and unfortunately, groupies started to form.

‘can i get an autograph, mr hawks?’

‘please sign my tits, im your biggest fan!’

‘are you currently in a relationship?’

the last one stuck out to him, paparazzi swarming him and endeavors’ kids. but his eyes looked for you, bingo.

his eyes rest on you, somewhat of a glare but a trained look onto you. his heart beats faster, but his head is brought back to reality and he puts on that usual poker face.

[handsomeamoeba]

WRONG.

Try again.

Actually let's get into this. As someone who loves a great many fantasy RPGs including BG3, Skyrim, and Dragon Age, let me explain what BG3 gets that Skyrim misses, in my opinion.

And this is the big one: the characters in BG3 feel like real fucking people. They have backstories, demonstrable feelings about the events and the other characters, they react to the things you do and they develop as people as you further your relationships. Even minor NPCs often feel fleshed out with distinct personalities and opinions. Hell, going out of my way to cast Speak to Animals is usually rewarded with at least one charming remark. I have never given even a little bit of a shit about 99% of Bethesda NPCs. I usually choose to travel without a companion rather than with unless I need a pack mule to carry my stuff, because their primary function seems to be to get in my way, set off traps, or attract aggro. I can't remember most characters' names unless I'm actively playing. I'm more likely to casually murder people in Skyrim than I am in BG3 or DA because Bethesda hasn't really made any of their NPCs feel like real people, and consequentially I feel no guilt. By comparison I tried to do an evil run of DA:O and gave up the instant I had to kill Wynne (the grandmotherly spirit healer) when she refused to let me go through with my plans, because I hated doing it. Lydia will watch me gut an innocent man and do NOTHING because she has no life, existence, or personality outside of me, the player. This extends to romances, obviously. While optional in all the games, most people will pursue a romance path in BG3 or DA for the additional character arcs it brings to the characters, the emotional nuances they unlock. In Skyrim romance is a box you tick of tasks to complete. In fact, once you marry them, most marriage candidates personalities change *completely* because all spouses have the same few stock dialog lines. That is, if they had a personality to begin with (again, see Lydia). You know how everyone wants to romance unromanceable characters in Bethesda games? Like Brynjolf in Skyrim, or Nick Valentine in FO4? It's because Bethesda actually bothered to give them stories and opinions.

Honestly, this extends to the player character themselves. To a certain extent every player character is a blank slate, but in BG3 and DA it at least feels possible to develop a feeling about who that character is and what they would or would not say or do. I've tried to do that with the Dragonborn and rarely feel strong feelings about them or have strong opinions about what kind of person they are. The only one I've made who I have much of an idea about is my wood elf Parafina, who is Chaotic Evil. Which again is an option I only pick because no one in Skyrim feels real.

The stakes also feel more real in BG3, more personal. Obviously there's the central quest involving the tadpoles, but more than that, it is about a credible threat to your world and the people and communities in it and the people you love. There are tons of reasons to invest yourself emotionally in the narrative. I have never, ever completed the main storyline in Skyrim nor picked a side in Skyrim's civil war. Why would it? Basically nothing happens if I choose not to. Furthermore, if you're not playing as a Nord (which I usually don't), why would you care about Skyrim as a place? You are a faceless, voiceless (pun intended) outsider who gets microaggressed at every turn being asked to choose between two different flavors of fascist. Also dragons are back but like... listen, I don't care? They get pretty easy to pick off at a certain point, it's like swatting flies, they're just a nuisance on the way to my daily errands. And isn't that such a common story? Don't you know so many people who don't really bother with the main storylines of Skyrim? Yeah it's one of the bestselling games of all time but I feel like the fact that most people don't really care about its narrative should be a sign of failure. We all know it's mostly maintained its popularity due to the modding community.

Ultimately both games have rich worlds which reward exploration with little secrets and environmental storytelling. But BG3 feels more "meaningful" because they give me reasons to care about what happens. The writers worked hard to give the game emotional resonance. So I come to the two games for different experiences. I go to BG3 to engage with an interesting story. I go to Skyrim for the quick serotonin hit of completing tasks and hoarding items.

[hiskillingjar]

Posture Training (Fox/MC)

g-d this shit makes me so horny. probably because i have trauma associated with being scolded for my shitty posture. anyway.

day 25: posture training second person. gn mc referred to as a lady (up to you if that’s derogatory/sexual or not lmao)

"Pick your head up, please."

You lifted your chin quickly, pressing your lips into a tight line as you adjusted your posture against the tall dining chair, your thighs pressed together tightly and your gaze locked straight ahead.

"S-Sorry..." You murmured apologetically.

With an amused hum, Fox circled you casually, admiring you as one may admire a piece of art. His lips twitched with a slight smirk at your soft-spoken apology, your tenacity to submit to him, no matter what, but it didn't touch the rest of his expression, at least not completely. 

He was here to teach you a lesson, after all.

"A lady doesn't slouch at the dinner table," He then said sternly, his tail swaying behind him. "Nor does she stammer when she is spoken to."

"Mm," You felt your cheeks flush at his firm tone and his calling you a 'lady' when you normally felt like anything but. "Right. Yes." You said, your voice a little firmer. "My...apologies, sir."

"And look at me when you speak," He added, stopping his pacing at your side. "It's polite to. You know that much, don't you, you weren’t completely unsocialised before this?"

You swallowed, with a flicker of a frown (just for a moment, lest he believe you had any opposition to his orders) and looked towards him, making sure to keep your chin at an even level and move your gaze with your shoulders, lest you strain your neck.

"Yes, sir," You said with a polite smile.

"Good girl," He praised, giving you a brief look of pride, before swiftly taking on an expression of a stern teacher, yet again. "I expect you to be on your best behaviour at dinner this evening. My highest account clients will be there, and you need to be a prime example of my work."

"Yes, sir," You said again, your eyes going forward towards the opulent set of dinnerware in front of you, bowls upon plates upon plates and more sets of cutlery on either side of the dishes than you knew what to do with.

Fox knew that you were out of your depth, hence the activity of the afternoon.

Like some fucked up version of My Fair Lady.

"Don’t look so startled. It's easy to remember, you just move inwards with each course," Fox instructed, pacing to your other side and leaning forward to gesture at each of the forks instructively with a clawed finger. "Salad, fish, and  meat. Dessert is the top set, and the spoon is for the soup course, and nothing but."

"Is it that much?" You asked, leaning in to take a closer look at each piece of silverware. "Feels like a lot for a dinner..."

"With the upper echelons of society? Of course, this is bare minimum, quite frankly." He said with a slight scoff (an eyeroll not visible but assumed) as he leaned against the back of your chair. "But, you have to know, darling, some of them are just as interested in watching you stumble as they are in tasting their food." 

His voice lowered down to a whisper, leaning closer towards you. 

"In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if they would find your humiliation downright delectable."

You felt your cheeks flush a little darker, feeling the warmth of his words against your flushed skin, before he took a firm hold of your shoulders and forced them back against the chair.

"I told you; keep your back straight." He ordered harshly. "Head raised high, eyes forward. I will not let them enjoy any of your humiliation."

He then gave your shoulders an idle squeeze, claws digging into your skin.

"Not for free, anyway."

You pressed your knees a little harder together, nervously licking your lips, before pouting slightly at the idea of him humiliating you for profit again.

Your dynamic with Fox was…odd. 

You always had the sense that he was moments away from hurting you again, from sticking his foot in front of you and laughing as you feel flat on your face, and yet, he did so much to defend you and preserve your dignity when you (rarely, but occasionally) interacted with those in his social circle.

In private, it was another story, of course, but you figured that was just his taste in things.

"Don't pout, darling," He said airily, with another casual wag of his tail, leaning forwards to speak into your ear again. "You and I can deal with any failures later, but for now,” He rapped his fingers on your shoulders. “I will not allow a bunch of old, rich creeps, “Which clearly didn’t include himself. “To ogle you as if you're one of the wares on the auction floor tonight."

"I hope you're not anticipating my failure, sir," You murmured quietly, letting out a slow exhale.

"I'm not anticipating it, no," He said, standing up straight. "I actually have complete faith in you. But, ah…I wouldn't mind an opportunity to prevent any potential for it.” You sensed another smirk to the tone of his words. “A posture collar, for example, that would stop that pretty head sinking again."

You let out a tiny squeak, raising your head.

You really weren't good at sitting up straight.

"Ah ah," He said with an amused hum, his hand sliding up the back of your neck and tilting your chin up once again. "Eyes forward, chin up. And chest out, please, darling."

"Hahh..." You breathed out as he cupped your jaw with surprising gentleness, pulling your body into the appropriate posture. “Yes, sir.”

"There we are," He said quietly, admiring the pose he pulled your body into, like you were nothing more than a doll for him. "Beautiful. Mm, it might not be necessary, but I can't deny, I'd love to see a nice, thick collar keeping that lovely neck straight."

You shivered slightly as his claws carressed your throat, a certain heat gathering beneath your skirt, making your thighs squeeze together even more.

"And a corset too, perhaps?" He suggested, his hands sinking down your neck and towards your chest. "To keep your back straight, of course.”

"Of course," You agreed, your voice sounding a little dazed as his hand slid down the front of your shirt, cupping the soft weight of your naked chest and rubbing the pad of his thumb over the blooming bud of your nipple. “That sounds…very practical, sir.”

"Yes, very practical, of course," He said with a low hum, his thumb and pointer finger gently pinching your nipple, then, as his other hand cupped your chin again and forced your head up and your back straight, tired of reminding you. "And so very necessary. Perhaps I ought to get you some heels, too, just to make your posture even better."

"Mm," You let out a trembling whine, your hands curling at your sides, unsure whether or not to let them slide between your legs and up your thighs. "Y-Yes, sir..."

"No stammering, remember." He murmured a soft, chiding scold, his breath hot in your ear and giving your nipple a firm pinch. "I'd hate to have to keep this training going all afternoon…mm,” His palm groped your breast again, as he rested his chin on the crown of your head. “And I would really, truly hate to have to lock you in your collar and corset and high heels, just to make sure you always remember the behave like a proper lady."

"Hahhh," You exhaled, squeezing your eyes shut for a brief moment before straightening out again, swallowing hard. "No, sir. I’ll remember to behave, sir."

"Good girl, suuuuch a good girl," He murmured with a broad smile, his breath hot in your ear, "And I'm sure you'll appreciate that all of those things are far less for my amusement and, mm, my pleasure,” The hand on your chin descended to indulgently grope your other breast., “And more for your ability to sit through a long, tedious dinner without embarrassing me, hmm?"

"Of course, sir," You gave your head a little shake, still whining as he touched you. "Of course..."

"Good," He said with another smile, before abruptly pulling away from you, leaving you breathless, flustered, and ever so eager to please him. "Very good. Now, I want you to try and hold that pose for me, while I go and make a few preparations before our guests begin to arrive, alright?"

"Ah-" You let out a little sound of outrage, moving to peer over your shoulder towards him. "Hold it? For how long?"

"As long as I want," He said, his hand wrapping around your chin and forcing you to look forward again. "And eyes. Forward. Do not catch yourself slouching again, or I'll be forced to be much tougher on you. Okay?"

His grip tightened on your chin when you didn’t immediately answer.

"I said, okay?”

"Okay," You said quickly with a little nod, doing as you were told (as you always did, as you would always do) keeping your posture straight as he let go of your jaw. "Yes, okay, yes sir."

“Good girl. I’ll get started on dinner~”

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU pt 44

part 1 | part 43 | ao3

cw: recreational drinking

“You’re just…” Robin looks at him sideways, her face doing something quivery and weird that he’s pretty sure is supposed to be sympathetic concern but mostly looks like she stubbed her toe right after smelling microwaved fish. “You’re sure it’s not too soon?” 

It is. 

It definitely is too soon.

Steve’s pleasantly buzzed at a New Year’s Eve party — some random rich kid’s house, loitering in the space between the living room and kitchen so he and Robin can properly people watch (see also: be hugely judgmental bitches about the fashion sense of the girls on the dance floor and the sloppy form of the guys doing keg stands on the back deck) — and Steve just opened his fat, drunk mouth and casually admitted to being in love with Eddie. 

Eddie, the guy who hated him for years. The guy who tried to knife him the first time they interacted as neighbors. 

The guy whose silhouette has started to fill the passenger seat in Steve's Winnebago dreams. 

Eddie’s here, but he’s not here; probably posted up somewhere in the basement so he can deal to the stoners and the horny kids playing Spin the Bottle, and Steve— 

Steve knows he falls too fast. Always has, but especially now. Steve fell for Eddie like a gunshot going off: a deafening bang, gurgling fish sounds, blood all over the floor. He kinda thinks he couldn’t help it. Kinda thinks he’d do it again. 

And how could he not, when Eddie smiles at him like that? When he takes him apart so sweetly with his words, his lips, his tongue? When he dragged Steve by the hand into the back pew of a midnight mass on Christmas Eve, giggling about how he was shocked his satanic worship hadn’t set the bench aflame? 

Yeah. 

Steve totally understood why Jesus got up on that cross. 

“Oh, my god,” Robin rolls her eyes with a strangled huff. “Are you seriously just—? You’re fucking hopeless.” 

Yeah, he is, and yes, he is. “No,” he insists, crossing his arms over his chest and trying not to feel like a defiant kid who got caught lying to his mother, because yeah, he totally is spacing out into lovesick La La Land while being actively accused of spending too much time there lately. “I’m not fucking hopeless, and it’s not too soon.”

Robin gapes at him like 'are you kidding me right now?' “Steve!”

“Robin!” he answers, mimicking her tone. Wow. Vodka makes him petulant. 

It makes Robin stubborn as hell. She juts her chin out and hollers over the music, gesturing so aggressively she almost spills her drink, “Admit that it’s too soon!”

“It isn’t!” Steve shouts back; digs his heels in and refuses to budge, never mind the fact that it’s only been, like, three weeks since Eddie fingered him for the first time oh, god, don’t think about Eddie’s fingers right now.

They stare at each other for a second, Robin’s nostrils flaring with the words she so clearly wants to yell at him, her breaths coming hot and harsh, and then, with a long sigh, her shoulders deflate. Her chin comes down. She bites her lip again, teeth turning the skin white as her eyes go big and sad. Worried. She's worried for him because she loved him first. 

Steve smiles at her, a quick, closed-lip thing that feels more like shrugging with his mouth, and he leans into her space; pats her cheek and thumbs her chin until she stomps chomping on her lip.

“You’re gonna get it all chapped,” he says in a hush, hoping her Steve translator is still intact after a couple drinks. Hopes she knows that he’s really saying ‘I hear you’ and ‘I love you, too; I love that you care’ because they're at a party and god does he not feel like saying sappy friendship shit out loud. 

Robin’s eyes get misty. Just for a second — message received; copy that — and she clears her throat and shakes it off. Points at something over Steve’s shoulder and drags him to the other side of the room.

—

part 45

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[n33dlew0rk]

I cyclically go back to some of my old favourites bc I'm a proud ✨music slut✨ and I was thinking about Roy Khan when he joined Kamelot. Like, the kinda uncharacteristic voice timbre for the genre and the short hair made me think of Steve.

And I don't necessarily headcanon Eddie Munson as a metal elitist, but for the sake of this little worm, let's say he absolutely is one. The nasty type, even.

So wouldn't it be hella funny if mid-thirties lead guitarist of average famous trash metal band Corroded Coffin Eddie'd find himself at a festival and suddenly smitten with power metal vocalist Steve Harrington?

Ok so, stay with me:

Eddie and the Corroded Coffin boys play some big festival in the early 2000s, not as headliners (I honestly can't see CC as that big, sorry), but still like on one of the late afternoon / early night slots. A plan they're pretty big fans of, it means they have a substantial crowd of fans and casual festival-goers listening to them, but they can get pretty buzzed and relaxed to enjoy the bigger names playing later afterwards. And they're all still in their mid-thirties so yk their lower backs hurt, sure, but they can still be menaces in the pit if they're motivated enough.

They do just that for a while, then around dinner time, someone's girlfriend (I'd like to think Jeff's bc I can totally see him not caring about genres at all) begs to go see this band she likes at one of the smaller stages. She's telling them that they just changed vocalist and this guy had to prove himself to the band by skydiving with them and that's so cool and she really wants to see them live please please please.

Eddie is not convinced, the name of the band doesn't sound familiar, but it's clearly fantasy inspired, and that leaves him with this nagging feeling that they'll end up to some obnoxiously cheesy act. He tries to divert the attention from himself and actually go eat something.

Manager and bff extraordinaire Chrissy Cunningham won't have it though, always careful with partners, family and significant others because she knows how the industry can turns artists into assholes. So she shoves all the boys towards the smaller stage, smiling wide and supportive of the girl who wanted to go there.

And wouldn't you look at that: the act IS, in fact, obnoxious and cheesy. The band has back up vocals that look more like a fucking choir. They have a keyboard that could probably replicate an entire orchestra, which means these guys are symphonic. Eddie shudders at the thought alone.

By no means the band has a big production, but they still have drape-like thingies stage-sides and candles and shit. A quick glance to the crowd has Eddie taking in so many men in leather pants and flowy-fucking-harmony-book-illustration-cover-vaguely-medieval shirts that will hunt him for a lifetime of nightmares.

Eddie groans as the band enters the stage and start playing right away. And yeah, there's no denying it anymore, it's clearly a power metal act- yep there it comes, the chirpy melodic riff and oh, oh yeah, melancholic keys and heartbreaking choir intro just joined the party. Eddie is actively glaring at Chrissy, but she just smiles and pats his back, shrugging apologetic.

And then.

AND THEN.

And then Eddie's future husband appears up there, in a puff of poorly distributed fake smoke, a too tight short sleeved black shirt, fairly normal black jeans with just a few straps on his juicy thighs, short and messy light brown hair and the sweetest boy-next-door smile.

This dorky motherfucker even dares to do a little bow to the audience.

This piece of cake with no tattoos whatsoever in sight and the attire of a very mild occasional I sometimes go to raves while vacationing in Ibiza because I have a very stable and probably boring white collar job and I need to decompress.

This absolute luscious chest forest bearer of a man struts to the barricade and starts singing with a tone so warm that it soothes half of Eddie's lifelong trauma and a lung capacity that could send at least two big tobacco companies bankrupt.

And for a minute there (or five, or ten, or whatever) Eddie kinda forgets why it was ever cringe to sing of doomed love, eternal devotion and, fucking, roses and flowers and passionate nights full of stars and promises and-

"Backstage pass" he starts shaking Chrissy's arm not taking his eyes off the charming vocalist.

Chrissy doesn't hear him right away, so she just cocks an eyebrow in a silent question, but Eddie keeps on staring at the stage like a man possessed and shouts louder "Get. Me. A. Backstage. Pass" and point a finger at Steve singing his heart out.

Chrissy snickers, not particularly surprised, and stands on her tip-toes to take Eddie's face in her hands, turning him to face her.

"Babes, you are an artist that performed at this festival", she lowers a hand to grab and wave in front of his eyes the artist pass attached at Eddie's neck.

It takes a few beats for him to gather enough brain power to understand, but as soon a as he does, he's dodging people left and right with a streak of mumbled "sorry man"s alternated with some more urgent "kindly fuck off"s to reach the front and find the nearest staff entry to flaunt his newly rediscovered access guarantee.

-

After the encore, an absolutely delicious sweat drenched Steve exists stage left and bumps directly in a very much stunned Eddie Munson with hearts in his eyes.

Steve mumbles a distracted "sorry" and starts walking around him to follow his bandmates to the green room when Eddie reaches for his wrist and nearly shouts "WAIT".

Steve turns around again, looks at his own wrist wrapped in pretty ringed long fingers, then focuses on the owner of said fingers. "Uh, yeah?"

Eddie's watching him like he's the Eighth World's Wonder and promptly answers with "Hi, my name is marry me, will you Eddie Munson?".

In the time it takes Steve to blink a few times and lightly blush before bursting out a genuine laugh, he realises two thing: one, the man in front of him (and still holding his wrist) is Eddie Munson from Corroded Coffin and he his quite frankly hot; two, Eddie Munson from Corroded Coffin spent a good five minutes of his own band's set earlier that night to climb on a tall amp and proceed with a ridiculous tirade against "all the melodic sappy panty twisting crap that's tainting true metal".

So Steve slowly cocks his head, still smiling big, gently pats his free hand on Eddie's cheek and smugly tells him "nah, wouldn't want to taint your", he tries to lower his voice to make it sound tougher, while vaguely gesturing towards him "true metal, hot stuff". He also winks at him, for good measure.

Eddie once again takes a moment to recover and totally bypasses Steve's dig blurting out a "you watched our set???", ears reddening at the tips, face shocked and mouth open.

Steve finally manages to free his hostage wrist and gives Eddie an incredulous, hopeless once over, starts laughing again and walks backstage, shaking his head.

When he notices Eddie's not following him (still stunned, not offended, to be clear) e looks over his shoulders "are you coming or not?".

Eddie unfreezes then and sprints to join him.

-

Eddie will proceed to follow Steve around for the remainder of the festival, walking on his knees and begging pretty please for a chance to explain the he actually meant other melodic sappy panty twisting crap, not Steve's.

-

The next Corroded Coffin album is kind of experimental, features Steve's vocals on one track, pisses off metal elitists worldwide and gains CC a headliner spot in the next festival line-up.

[ceilidhtransing]

It's frankly horrifying how blasé some American queer people are being about the stripping away of legal rights under a potential Trump administration.

I'm very aware that queer politics and queer liberation are bigger than just “what's legal” or “what the state allows us to do” or whatever. Queer people have a very long history of existing without state support and building our own community structures when the rest of society fails us. But oh my god this doesn't mean that our legal rights aren't important. Protection against discrimination is important. The right to marry is important. Being able to access legal HRT is important. The right to legal gender change is important. Adoption rights are important. Protection against “gay panic” and “trans panic” defences is important. Not being classified as a “mental illness” or a “sex crime” is important. Having laws that are on our side isn't everything but it sure as hell isn't nothing.

I feel like some queer people today have this idealised, romanticised idea of what life was like for the queer community in the west in the 60s, 70s, 80s - this sense that Yes It Was Tough, But It Wasn't Anything We Couldn't Deal With, that it was more “radical” and “punk” and “politically pure” and so really we should be wanting to return to that because That Was When All The Cool Grassroots Queer Organising Was Happening before we started getting proper legal protections.

But a lot of the organising that people were doing back then - not all, but a lot - was towards the very rights that some people now don't seem too concerned about throwing away. They fought hard for stuff like anti-discrimination protections and HRT access and I know that's not “glamorous”, it's not “throwing bricks at cops”, but it's important activism that makes a genuine material difference to the lives of so many queer people. They wouldn't have fought so hard for these rights if they didn't matter. And the idea that acknowledging this is somehow “anti-revolutionary” or “bootlicking” or whatever is absurd.

And from these people there's so little recognition of the fact that actually, for many of us, we didn't survive this era. Or we survived but endured so much avoidable suffering. There's a tendency to romanticise “community organising” that tries to compensate for a hostile state while forgetting that community organising can't save everyone. [And it's much, much easier to do community organising when you have a modicum of legal protection. It's a lot harder to organise your queer community pantry and support hotline and safe sex supplies dispensary when the law now defines running any kind of queer venue as “child grooming” or “a public obscenity” or whatever and starts jailing people for it.] Don't rose-tint this time as one of Cool Underground Radicalism without acknowledging that a hell of a lot of people suffered and died because society was far more hostile to them and they didn't have the legal framework that we have now.

Am I saying that, because queer people have some legal rights now, everything is lovely and perfect? That queer activism is “finished because we have gay marriage now”? No. Of course not. Inequality persists. Discrimination persists. The rights that currently exist still don't protect everyone equally, especially where queerness intersects with other forms of marginalisation. There is still so much more to push for.

But pushing for more is completely incompatible with allowing a rollback of what we already have. This casual “so what if Trump takes away our rights; I'm still not voting Democrat” is a spit in the face of all the people who fought so hard for queers to have these rights. Throwing away your vote in order to make a political point and thus allowing someone into power who plans to remove legal rights for queer people - and who is also unimaginably worse than his opponent on basically every other issue - is not what queer activism looks like, and this casual willingness to sacrifice hard-fought rights is demonstrative of either immense privilege or an incredible blindness to what life is like for queer people who don't enjoy these rights. There are queer people in the world who are still fighting for their identities not to be fucking criminalised, who will be looking at the attitude of essentially “who cares if Trump gets into power and sets fire to decades' worth of queer legal victories, if that's what it takes to prove a point to the Democrats” with utter appalment. (And if you're not queer, but are perfectly unconcerned about sacrificing our rights on the altar of Refusing To Vote For A Democrat, that is disgusting, and you are not an ally.)

People fought so hard to have these rights. Rolling them back will have horrific consequences. Please don't just toss them away.