#sly fucker that he is

[ccaptain]

   and so, a secondary reason to meet Tartaglia again was thrown on the table.

   Kaeya would like to- it's interesting, this man. almost alluring in a way that makes the captain willing to see him again without the dangers lurking for him in the Szapolyarny palace- where the possibility of mingling better is nullified by the danger his presence inside the stronghold represents. Kaeya is aware of how his presence puts both him and Childe in a complicated position-

   still, he likes the thrill. and he can see that Tartaglia is attracted to it in a dangerous way.

   a smile and a bat of lashes over his shoulder should signal that the sentiment is the same for the cobalt-haired, dangerous man present in his chambers. 

   ' i don't feel very in peril, ' he reassures the Harbinger, soft smile still in place. ' not that the sense of danger has dispelled entirely- but you have succeeded in making me feel at ease. i think, ' he praises ever so lightly, letting it linger and flow past the kitchen where Childe is entertaining himself, a strand of cobalt curling around his finger,' that it's a good quality a diplomat should have- and you seem to possess it. if i was more relaxed, ' he can't help but add, mischievous, ' i'd be tempted to take a nap, since the training for the day starts as such an ungodly hour of the morning. '

   Kaeya is aware that his laugh has no mockery- merely amusement, light and playful as a musical note that will surely carry itself to the other man's ears. as will the stretch Kaeya engages in to make a point, back muscles moving under that light, white blouse of his as he times it with Childe emerging from his hydrating session and assessing him. a pleasing noise follows defenseless joints cracking.' if you're so eager to know, then you should catch me on the act. i'll show you precisely how dead i prefer to leave a threat... if i ever have the occasion, that is. '

   pale diamond settles, approvingly, on the Eleventh's face, a low hum his reply to the proposition. he shifts into a more comfortable stance, his lower back firmly seating itself on that nice desk of his- a long leg crosses over the other, hands slayed back on the wooden desk. the composure is only broken as the drinks are presented to him- a little sparkle in his eye as he boldly reaches over and, after eyeing the Fonta with curiosity, picks the taste that represents home the most- valberry and mint- relieving Childe of some of the weight of it. 

   ( and if there's a small brush of their fingertips as he moves, it wasn't intentional... much. )

   there's a moment where his young age peeks forth- where he cradles the bottle, hums a pleased sound before cracking the lid open with uncharacteristic eagerness. he stopped having soda when his childhood ended in favor of alcohol- abundant doses of it. it's a nice thing to have in the face of danger, the last of tension in his shoulder releasing in the childish way his nose scrunches up as the fizz hits him- despite the familiar unpleasantness, it rips a small smile out of him. it's almost cute, how normal he acts for a few seconds.

   it's gone as he settles back into a more serious approach, resuming his lax position against the unfamiliar desk.

   ' i'd like nothing more than to tell you, ' Kaeya returns the same courtesy, after a small sip that tastes like home. ' as much as secrecy is needed while i infiltrate, i don't doubt that you want to help me out... to help yourself out, too. i'll answer your questions- so we may carry this burden together. '

   the sugary taste on his tongue, mixed with the tinge of sourness, loosens his tongue.

   ' you have studied me well and even made a dossier out of me- so you must know where I come from... but as the reason as to why I underwent something this dangerous, you're right to be curious about. ' a swirl of his bottle, admiring the colorful liquid inside and how bubbles pop on the surface. pale diamond flicks under his lashes to look at him. Tartaglia is directly in front of him- and he's not afraid. 

   ' in terms of answering your question, i'm aware of a thing, ' another sip of his soda, letting the bubbles set in before he resumes talking. ' there's, let's say... political discontent makes the city unsettled, makes the people restless, due to the Fatui factions residing in Mondstadt. we have received multiple complaints about their behavior- vandalism, the swagger they carry themselves with that causes fights and friction- so much so that my desk has been swarmed with papers. but escaping work it's not the reason why i came here. '

   a thoughtful hum, a strand of cobalt tucked behind an ear. ' my question is- why would a faction of the Fatui stay in a city where they're clearly unwelcomed and consistently treated like pariahs? there'd be no benefits, a consistent drop of morale from the recruits... and the more they stay and strut around, the less collaborative people become towards them. and... this is where i turn the question towards you, i presume. '

   he adjusts his backside against the desk, ankles crossed as he inches further close to Childe, lifting his head so their eyes can meet once more.

   ' I am here to discover the answer to this question. finding out what makes Mondstadt so alluring for the Fatui is why I infiltrated here- and I can't leave until I find a clue that inches me satisfyingly closer to the truth. '

   a tilt of his head- almost as a question, the one that follows after he laid all the chips on the table:

   ' now that you know why i'm here- would you help me out with this as much as you can, Tartaglia? '

Years have passed since Tartaglia last had his face covered by the mantle of a debt collector. To this day, out of nostalgia and part of his core principles, the task is taken upon himself as mere indulgence — nothing is set in stone, and if he wishes to lead those below him in hierarchy, he must take note of the shifts of the craft. This little truce with Kaeya is no different, even when his mention of a perceived debt is, in fact, simple jest of the moment.

Tartaglia smiles, laughs, takes in the invitation as something akin to a challenge, rather than an eagerness to bring a second meeting forth. He weaves the path for the two of them regardless, now bond by this… unusual state of affairs where most, if not all of the captain’s safety falls under his responsibility. If he slips, then two will invariably take the fall.

Dangerous, the way he enjoys it.

      ❛ If hospitality is still what you demand of this encounter, then I succeeded in not giving it any perilous undertones. ❜ He contradicts his ways with a smile, unfaltering. His lips still glisten with the water he’s just sipped, his glass lowered to the counter with a dull thud and the characteristic sound of a bottle receiving its cap back. ❛ The sentiment can be reciprocated, you know? But only if we skip the part where you describe how dead you prefer to leave your targets. ❜ Of course, Tartaglia’s remark is nothing but a playful one. The sort of talk they engage is like a drug he’s addicted to, his resistance to it, albeit momentary, begs for commendation.

He returns to the previous room at the first cue that his guest is fully clothed and disarmed. His eyes, naturally, scan the man’s form as means to ensure his own safety, the truth of the calling. ❛ How about we tackle the reason we’re here already, hm? ❜ The proposition comes as means of 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐚𝐥 of their predicament. Now that there’s no weapon in sight — not that it deters either of them of using the elements instead —, Tartaglia infers that it’s the best moment to start their negotiations.

      ❛ I’ll go ahead and disclose that, for now, I want nothing more than to know why you’re here, Kaeya. Let’s factor our situation and resources in, put them on the table and decide how we can collaborate. ❜ Relaxed steps take him towards the Knight, placing him between the desk and the Harbinger. In the latter’s hands, three bottles of soda of different flavors: sunsettia, a mix of valberry and mint, and salted caramel Fonta. ❛ What is so important to find that you’d put your life and an entire diplomatic treat on the line? You’re no small fish, less conspicuous members of the Ordo would cause little to no collateral damage, no? ❜

[cweampier]

leon loves it when you cry, your face covered in tears as he coos at you and licks them away <3 (i know from first hand experience)

god what he’d give. what he’d fucking give to have a cute girl crying in front of him IDK if i stuck with what you asked for sorry if i went off the rails a bit.. hehe

fat tears rolled down your cheeks as you pouted, the way you mewled as leon fucked himself between your thighs, chasing only for his release. he was so mean for that, and he knew it. but he couldn’t help it, seeing you so desperate for his dick enough to shed tears for it really ignited something inside him. an insatiable appetite presented itself to him.. and fuck did he love a good chase every once in awhile.

“l-leon.. please, want you so bad..” you hiccuped, trying to angle your hips to potentially get the head of his cock to penetrate your aching cunt to no avail. he couldn’t help but feel amused by your unrelenting pleads, so oblivious to how greedy you sounded. “poor baby.. so dumb and needy, what am i gonna do with you, mn?” he cooed as he leaned in closer to your face, swiping his tongue over your glistening cheek, tasting the saltiness of your tears. he felt almost guilty for enjoying this as much as he was. he decided to continue to chip away at your patience, making sure to calculate his thrusts tactically enough to make contact with your neglected clit, bumping the tip of his pretty cock against it teasingly.

you were so confused, it was like you weren’t being heard. usually he spoiled you rotten, what’s with the sudden change? you stared back at him glossy eyed, in which he responded with a cocky grin before frowning mockingly. “you’re.. g’na finish what you started,” you responded, pathetic. he raised a brow, slowing his hips as he pressed them against the plumpness of your ass, cock slotted snuggly between your folds as he pressed his chest against your back. it earned a groan from the both of you, feeling his breath tickle your neck.

“it’s a good try but i don’t exactly take orders from desperate little brats,” he began, watching another tear roll down your disheveled face in awe, you really were something. “look at you all snotty face just cause you didn’t get it your way. want my cock bottoming out inside that greedily little pussy of yours so badly, don’t’cha? need me to pay extra attention to that clit’a yours? so cute..” he continued to egg you on with a filthy mouth, trying to get you to admit defeat. your lips pursed flatly together, feeling them tremble as more tears threatened to fall. you shut your eyes tightly before giving into his attempts to pester you further.

“inside,” you cry out dumbly, on the verge of tears once more to no one’s surprise. “wan’ your cock inside, leon, please-!” your head spun, leon fucking kennedy. only a man like him could ever hold the capabilities of having a pretty girl wailing for him to fuck her. “fuck me, leon, want it s’bad. promise, i’ll be good for you.. so good.” leon sat there, admiring his work, reducing you into nothing but a beseeching mess before him.

he sneered lightheartedly before parting your thighs swiftly with his hand, positioning himself in front of your sobbing pussy as the cool air brushed against it, sending shivers down your spine. “atta girl, that’s all i wanted to hear. see what happens when you use your words?” he lectured softly before unsheathing himself inside you, relishing in your plush walls as they welcomed him with earnest.. <333 ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

[fisheito]

rereading the nuca pink doujin and seeing yakumo tear himself apart re: his snake form vs his human form all this agony and self-doubt and silent suffering and fear of rejection like "if i looked less human would u hate me" , "if u saw me in my true form wouldn't that be horrible. terrifying. disgusting" , "if i admitted i want to swallow you whole would you think worse of me"

and i imagine him asking something like this to the crowd of clan members , who are , undeniably,, a group of Kinky Fuckers

they all smile with the serenity and carefully masked excitement of a horny olivine. masterful beautiful reassuring expressions (errr..... masked to different degrees depending on the clan member)

[cameleonvermillon]

on one hand I don't think the kouao age gap really matters because even if Koujaku did love him since they were children since he didn't realize his feelings until later I don't think it would have had an impact on their relationship at the time

however if koujaku had returned to the island during Aoba's Sly Blue days that grown-ass man would have absolutely fucked that teenager I'm sorry it has to be said

[mrsoharaa]

Do you guys know that one “game” thing where someone uses their credit card with their s/o and if they capture it with their lips pressed together they can buy whatever they want?

Welppp, I’m briefly (barely atm lmao) awake and thought about doing this with Suguru. Who wears such a smug expression as he does it, but misses the obvious chances that you could’ve won, on purpose. Laughs at you as your adorable pout springs onto your cute scowling face, tilts your chin to meet his tender gaze and assures you he’d let you buy whatever your adoring heart desires…after, a few more kisses of course. 😭😩😮‍💨🫠💗💗

[wanderingfaee]

"You know, not that I'm complaining or talking down on you or whatever but--" he swiftly clutches onto your curved waist, abruptly pushing you back down onto the soften sheets and hovers over your smaller frame. His large, warm palms firmly, steadily holding your frail wrists down onto the silken mattress, muscular legs parting in between your own, as glimmering, polished irises gaze down at you with such luminous magenta and daunting pride. The slant in his crooked smile flaunting down at you, wallowing in the pure satisfaction of the ascending fluster and sweltering, obvious heat permeating all across your stunned smug.

"You're far too small to overcome me, gorgeous" he chortles mockingly, amusement and coy clearly staining in his silky tone, leaning in close to your beating right earlobe "I'm thrice your strength...but nice try sweetheart, love the enthusiasm" he would breathe hotly into your ringing ear, extensive, long digits smoothing along the supple flesh of your clammy hands. Easing you into stirred eccentric sensations of climbing arousal, erratic fluster and a tinge of competitiveness.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Constantine Is Having Fae Problems

Not as in 'problems with the fae', but as in 'the Batfam don't understand shit about fae and it is somehow Constantine's problem'

"Thank you."

Whatever thoughts Constantine had before come to a screeching halt. He slowly turns around, praying he's misheard, but, unfortunately, no. He heard that right.

The black-haired kid - he looks like a kid, but, really, he is not, and he is not even human to begin with - is smiling at Nightwing, who just laughs and ruffles the boy's hair.

"Don't worry about it, it's nothing," the moronic eldest batkid says, like it's not a big deal, and Constantine just... can't. He is not dealing with this right now. He needs a drink.

And then it happens again. Not with the Nightwing, though. This time, it's Black Bat. Now, in all honesty, Constantine is not so sure about her being human either, what with her appearing out of goddamn aether and being silent as a ghost, but the point still stands. The new addition to Bat's menagerie of children, the fae boy, the changeling who insists he is Robin's brother, thanks her.

It's quick and easy, just like a human would say it, and Black Bat just nods back at him, but Constantine knows what it means. He knows the weight of fae gratitude.

The big question is, do the Bats know it?

He promises himself to address this issue later with the Big Bat himself. But every time he encounters the man, he just forgets to bring it up. Constantine strongly suspects it's not his bad memory at fault here, but a certain fae. Not that he is going to outright go and blame the damned creature, of course, Constantine values his life, mind, and consciousness. Also, he is very aware of the consequences of talking to the fae, unlike the furry brigade.

Alas, he can't forget something if he witnesses with his own eyes. So the next time he is in the Batcave, he makes it a point to wait until the same thing eventually happens. And, score for Constantine, it does.

"Thank you," the kid - again, not a kid, not a human, but whatever - tells Red Robin, and Constantine immediately snaps his head to him, pointing a finger at the smiling fae.

"I mean no disrespect, but what are you doing?"

The kid - Danny, as he insists to be called, although Constantine knows better than to call a fae by any name - tilts his head to the side. He looks confused, but there's a sly glint to his blue eyes. Oh, the fucker knows exactly what he means. He just doesn't want to admit to it.

"What do you mean?" It's not him, but Red Robin asking, and Constantine turns to look him in the eyes. Mask. Whatever.

"He is thanking-" a terrible thought crosses Constantine's mind, and he stares at Red Robin with horror, "Oh, don't tell me you were all thanking him and apologizing to him like he is a human being."

"I don't see how this is your business," Red Robin scolds, and his eyes narrow. Constantine can't see his actual eyes through the mask, but he knows the Bats well enough to know the kid looks as deadpan as he can.

"You can't do that!" He reaches down to the pocket where he keeps his cigarettes, but stops halfway. Right, no smoking in the Batcave. Wait, he never obeyed that rule! Constantine turns to glare at the fae boy. Danny appears as innocent as a newborn baby. Little bastard.

"Quit making a scene," comes another voice, and this one John recognizes, turning to look at little Robin. Now that he thinks about it, the demonic child claimed the fae as his brother, and he definitely should know how to talk to fae!

"Why didn't you tell them about the rules?!" He asks Robin, and the kid doesn't even bat an eye at him.

"You will not accuse me of incompetence in front of my brother," Robin huffs, not stepping closer and keeping one hand on his hip, "I did."

"You-"

"Okay, how about you calm down?" Danny interjects, and John is positive this is the first time he's heard the boy say anything other than 'thank you'. He turns to the fae, facing him, and, oh, Jesus, those are not human eyes. Or teeth. Or face. Holy fuck how do Bats live with this, it's like uncanny valley but hundreds times worse.

"If I tell you I use it for easier access, will you leave it be?" The fae tilts his head again, and this time it is not in confusion, but in the eerie manner of how all very much not human beings do it. Constantine swallows, but doesn't back down.

"Access to what, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Transportation," Danny provides. This does not explain shit and he knows it. Red Robin groans and rolls his eyes.

"We use it to summon Danny if we need him. It's faster than calling or texting."

Constantine freezes.

These fucking kids. Are using the fae debts. To summon him. Because they don't like texting.

Do they know that they can literally ask a fae to destroy a small country to fulfill a debt like that? It's not just a small favor, it's a gratitude. Fae take their gratitude very seriously. They value it. A lot.

Actually, you know what, no. John is not going to be explaining that part to them because God knows the batkids are all batshit crazy and this is an opportunity he is not willing to give them.

So he just nods stiffly, turns around, and heads to the zeta tube.

"Thank you for caring about my family," he hears a voice behind him, full of mischief and joy. Constantine feels the weight of the newly acquired debt, or better call it a favor, bind itself to his soul, and, great, he now has the power to part the sea like Moses, but only once.

He needs a drink. No, correction, he needs a whole bar to himself.

Wait, that's an idea.

"Get me a bottle of good bourbon, and we're even," he throws around his shoulder, stepping into a zeta tube.

When he steps out of it, there's an unlabeled bottle in his hand. John sighs and opens it, foregoing the glass or cup and drinking straight from the neck.

...It's good bourbon.

Inspired by @blackfoxsposts

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[yumenosakiacademy]

When we were introduced 2 sleipnir n Barnabas ngl I thought sleipnir was like, manipulating Barnabas n was secretly kinda the 1 rly running things bc his voice was sly-sounding n he kinda lead their convos iirc. His disposition seemed so schemey esp as opposed 2 barnabas' stoney nature. Like the ever loyal right hand man who would word things so well tht he was influencing the ruler in2 basically doing what He wanted.

[forsworned]

IT'S (NOT) JUST SEX ft. SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY

Warning(s): Sexual Content, AFAB!reader, (Sorta) Daddy Issues, Half&Half Proofread idk

Author's note: Guess I'm drowning in Simon right now, I just have so many ideas for him and honestly this is not original but fuck it I think it's cute mwah

"It's just sex."

But he's literally paying attention to every staccato of your moans, as he angles his hips perfectly to hit your sweet spot every fucking time. The way you arch your back, and your whimpers are elongating with every stroke, adding just the right amount of pressure to have you cumming all over his dick. And he doesn't even care if he's finishing anymore, as long as you're getting yours he's more than satisfied enough. And he's definitely not flipping you over on your back every time without fail just to see your pretty "o" face.

"It's just sex."

But he's waking up before you with your coffee exactly the way you like it, down to the milk preference, brand and roast. Your eggs perfectly fried, and a tender kiss to your temple asking you,

"How'd ya sleep, love?"

"It's just sex."

But he's always fixing your hair when it's out of place, the collar of your shirt when it's tucked in incorrectly and making sure he's holding your hand when you're crossing the street together.

"It's just sex."

But he's talking you down over the phone when you get into a catastrophic argument with your dad and moments later he's showing up at your door with your favorite snacks and beverages. His arms are enveloping you in the most snug bear hug, kissing your temple and rubbing your back while you cry it out. And then you're watching reruns of your favorite tv show and until you're passed out in his arms.

"It's just sex."

But he's letting you in. You're seeing all the sides of him that he never shows to anyone else. The scars under his mask, the way his lips curve up into a smile when you're doing you're little dance to oldies on the radio, and the genuine, hearty chuckle that effortlessly escapes his now loosened sternum.

"It's just sex."

But then you're under the steamy water coming out of his showerhead, as he sings in his off-key baritone while he suds up his loofa to clean you up after he fucked your brains out on his loveseat. Memorizing every mole, stretchmark, and crease in your skin as he's exfoliating your pretty skin.

But,

It's not just sex.

Because he's sitting there on the sofa, wondering how the fuck he ended up with the prettiest, vintage engagement ring you pointed out when you two were antiquing (antiquing? he doesn't bloody go antiquing) between his stout, scarred fingers, glittering in the moonlight and all.

"Si?"

He turns from the ring to the most stunning woman that's ever graced his miserable presence, leaning against the doorframe with his shirt hanging loosely over her thighs, hair disheveled in the cutest way humanly possible. Her playful smile etching into her dulcet features as she sucks in her bottom lip. Oh yeah, she's a fuckin' stunner.

"Are you coming back to bed?"

His eyes visibly softening as he drinks you in.

"Ya, dovie, I'll be right there." He murmurs, licking his dry lips, and you're already padding back to his room, making sure you sway your hips provocatively. That causes his lips to kick up into a genuine smile and a chuckle to escape his chest. And then he's up, carefully putting away the precious metal in a false bottom drawer under the utensils, and then he's jovially treading back to you. Face first into the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet, natural musk. He could bathe in this shit.

Fingers carding through his hair and he's oblivious to the knowing smirk on your sly face. That fucker thinks he's so slick.

[quarterlifekitty]

I just read the baby trapping HC’s… what if it was the reverse? reader baby trapping THEM

I think that depends entirely upon how cleverly you went about it! I’m gonna answer this with the assumption that they match your freak on the matter lmao

cw: dubcon, baby trapping

And as a preamble: it’s literally so easy for you. For any of them. Because quite honestly if they’re hard, and you say you’re on birth control, they’re gonna believe you. And really, most of them probably would’ve just assumed you were if you let them hit it raw. But we’re gonna say you lied about being on the pill for this ask.

Gaz is such a sweet guy. He’s literally just like “I’m happy if you’re happy, love” when you tell him the news. These things happen, and he has no reason not to believe you, right? What does it matter as long as you’re both happy?

Soap has his suspicions about it. But again, it’s not like he was really pressing you for reassurance that it was safe when he came inside you— when he gets like that, the dog in him takes over and there’s no stopping him. And maybe he’s not sure initially, to be honest, but then he thinks about a little bundle that has the same eyes as you, and he just can’t bring himself to be upset. Even if you are a liar.

Ghost, regardless of how he feels on the news, is going to investigate. He can’t help himself. Fucker is nosy. And you would’ve known this! So you’ve got it all set up for him to find. Water glass on your nightstand, the drawer just slightly ajar— not even enough to see inside, but enough to make him curious. He opens, sees the round of pills, and the timing all checks out. All taken right up until recently— when you tested positive. And you’re not careless to leave them in the trash. They were flushed. And from before that— you have drawer in the kitchen where you often shove the stray contents of your handbag. And there are receipts. A few months worth, from the pharmacy, with exactly what you bought. If you have a menstrual/symptom calendar app on your phone, it’s all logged. There are notifications in your reminder app telling you to refill your prescription. A number in your contacts that matches up with the doctor listed on the prescription. It’s the fact that it’s too neat that tips him off. Every piece of evidence he could’ve ever asked for is there, and that’s how he knows it isn’t natural. And it makes him smile. It’s touching— how much care you put into securing him in your life forever. Kid’ll be a terror, with the two of you as the parents. Too capable.

Price had a feeling in his gut when you told him you were on the pill. He thought about pulling out just to see how far you’d take things. In the end, finishing inside of you was like calling your bluff to him. He’d be fine with waiting a month or two to see if he was right. In the meantime, he’ll be looking at paint swatches for the nursery.

König is not looking a gift horse in the mouth. But if he does find out, he’s actually grateful. Saved him the trouble of asking you to have his baby, which was just one of a few questions wracking his nerves when it came to you. And this provides him the perfect opportunity to ask you to marry him! Doesn’t have to torture himself with sussing out your ring size, the kind you’d want, waiting for just the right moment. He asks you when you tell him you’re pregnant— it’s like everything is coming together. It’s a fairy tale ending for him!

Nikolai confronts you when you tell him that you’re pregnant. There’s a sly smile on his face. He teases a bit. Isn’t that just so strange? That you’d be unlucky enough for that tiny little chance of it failing was enough. And he has a way of making you squirm, of prodding you until you tell him what he wants. You can’t help but smile when he smiles, feeling a little giddy. He makes it seem all light and cute— so you do spill the truth. And he’ll pick you up and spin you as he laughs. His malyshka is so naughty, isn’t she? Lying to him like that, like he wouldn’t find out. Like wouldn’t give her a baby just as soon as she asked. Like he wasn’t planning on pulling a similar move in the near future.

[beenbaanbuun]

guard dog pt.3 w/ jeong yunho

merry christmas!!!!

now, you understand that yunho is big; much bigger than yourself, in fact

what, with his obnoxious height, shoulders as broad as the amazon, and thick fluffy tail that sticks out like a rod behind him, he basically dwarfs you!

that doesn’t mean he should have access to your whole fucking bed though

you can feel the lip of the mattress digging into your thigh, a warning that if you shift even just an inch to the right, you’ll end up on the hardwood floor instead

but with a firm chest of a sleeping hybrid pressed up to your spine, it’s hardly like you have the space to move

it’s been like this for a whole week now, since the first day he barged into your life at the not-so-helpful hands of mingi, and sleep has been more than difficult to come by

so much so that your mood has taken a significant hit

it’s not like you were exactly happy about your new situation anyway, but right now, as you face down another sleepless night, you’re practically livid

although even that word doesn’t feel right to describe the emotion that sits deep in your chest

something big that churns in your heart, fluttering and stuttering each and every time you see his annoyingly handsome face

every time his sleep-filled breaths flutter against your ears

every time he drags you impossibly close to his body with the strong arm he has draped over your waist…

fuck, you hate him

and you hate how he makes you feel

“shift,” you grumble as you unhook his hand from where it sits on the flesh of your stomach for the umpteenth time tonight, “get on your side of the bed.”

there’s silence as you push at the solid mass of flesh behind you

he really is an unmovable object

“yunho, i swear i’m going to-”

you squirm, wriggling carefully in place until you’re able to flip your body over

until yunho’s warm breath is fluttering against your face instead of the back of your head

and his warm brown eyes are staring into your own

of course the fucker is awake

“why are you tossing and turning, pup?” god, you wish you could swipe that smirk off of his face

it’s as annoying as it is handsome, and you despise the way it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach

butterflies of hatred… obviously…

“shove it, mutt,” you growl as your fist pushes against his chest

it’s solid, like you’re pushing against a brick wall, and it moves your body more than it moves his

a gasp leaves your lips as you feel the mattress disappear from beneath you, but yunho’s wandering hands seem to work quicker than the gravity that pulls you down

they scoop you back up and into his chest, returning you to exactly the same position you were in not moments before

only this time, you can smell the warmth of the cinnamon his skin seems to radiate, and it takes all the strength you have not to melt into it

not for any reason other than the fact he smells nice, of course; homely, like fresh cookies on a cold winter’s morning

it’s a cold winter morning right now, the sick temptress that lives inside your brain whispers to you, and yunho smells so good

not to mention the warmth that radiates from him in soft waves

if it weren’t for that cocky smile, perhaps you’d give in to the strange desire to be close to him, but as it stands, you’d rather die than give him the satisfaction

“get on your side of the bed before i—”

he cuts you off with a sly chuckle that sends a shiver right down your spine

“before you what, pup?”

there’s a certain gruffness to his voice that’s only really noticeable when he’s first woken up

a low growl that reminds you of a dog getting his ear scratched in a way that makes his eyes fall closed and his back leg flutter

it’s cute, in a strange way

insufferably hot too

“before i force you over there, shithead!”

but you’ve already tried that once, and all that happened was this; you, held to yunho’s chest like you’re every bit the pup he claims you are

“and end up on the floor?” he hums, “i won’t catch you a second time, y’know? if you want to be away from me that badly, who am i to stop you?”

piece. of. shit

you scowl at him with as much mirth as you can muster

eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, an angry little pout on your plush lips

you hardly feel intimidating, but it’s all you can muster in your sleepy state

hopefully it’s enough to put him in his place…

“what’s that?” he chuckles, cocky smile turning into a bright grin

it illuminates his face in a way that you haven’t seen before, the corners of his eyes crinkling in genuine joy

it’s a stark contrast from the regular nonchalance or disinterest he wears between the flashes of irritating mockery

you hate how much more handsome it makes him look, if that’s even possible

“what’s what?” your scowl deepens

“that!” he nods his head to you, as though gesturing to your face, “your expression! it’s cute~”

“it’s intimidating,” you argue, and he laughs so hard that his head tips back

“if that’s what you call intimidating, then you need me more than i thought possible.”

then he says your name

your real name

and you haven’t heard it from his lips since the first day you met him, when he showed up at your door unannounced and uninvited

it’s funny; you’re sure it didn’t sound this sweet when he first said it

it’s almost like there’s affection hidden somewhere in there

although it’s not so much hidden as it is right there in plain sight, written on the walls, illuminated by the moonlight that shines through the crack in your curtains

“i don’t need you,” it sounds like a lie, although you’re sure it’s not

you‘ve never needed him before, and you certainly don’t now

it doesn’t matter that those kids in the stairwell don’t even look in your direction when yunho is there too, towering over you

or that the pervy cashier that you’ve caught staring at your cleavage more than once daren’t even look you in the eyes with that stupid mutt carrying your basket for you

you don’t need him to carry your basket either; you’re not as weak as you might seem

“uh-huh,” his laughter slowly comes to a stop, and his smile slowly slips away, “but you want me, don’t you?”

no

absolutely not

want him?

you could laugh at just the idea of it

and yet you don’t

the sound gets caught in your throat and your tongue feels like lead in your mouth

you swallow in a desperate attempt to get rid of the lump that seems to be blocking your words, and it works

well… kind of

it works in the sense that it disperses that uncomfortable feeling a little, but instead of denial, all that slips from your mouth is a whine

the sound is as quiet as it is pathetic, but in the silence of night, it might as well have been an ear splitting, wall shaking moan

it’s humiliating, is what it is, but for some reason, yunho acts like he never even heard it

and it’s unlike him, to not take the opportunity to tease you and make you squirm under his unwavering gaze

but in the same vein, as you stare into his uncharacteristically soft irises, it’s the realest you’ve ever seen him

there’s no false bravado shielding his true feelings from you, just like there’s no smarmy, shit-eating smile on his lips making you feel like you’re the pet, not him

this is yunho

and so you say his name in the softest voice you can muster

a sweet little “yunho,” into the cold winter air

but you disregard that, because in here, with yunho’s arms keeping you pressed tightly to his heater of a torso, the chill is the last thing in your mind

“you know,” he whispers back, “those eye bags of yours are getting quite bad, pup.”

it’s back to pup, but for some reason the nickname sounds so much sweeter this time around

“i can’t sleep,” you respond

he hums in acknowledgment as he tightens his grip

“try tonight, okay?” you nod and he smiles, “good girl. i’ll be right here, okay?”

and for the first time, that idea doesn’t seem so bad

in fact, as your heart rate picks up and the butterflies of hatred—well, perhaps not hatred—begin to flutter again, you realise that maybe you don’t quite mind his presence

“i’ll try.”

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

sleepy !

katsuki wants to go to bed, but you're kinda hungry

katsuki’s extra clingy when he’s sleepy. you know he’s sleepy because he hasn’t left you alone since he came back from his sparring session with kirishima.

it’s almost funny how The katsuki bakugou who’s so scary, who’s all sharp glares and huffs and pinched eyebrows, is hanging off your shoulders like a big fat baby.

“katsuki.” you start, softly rubbing one of his arms tightly wrapped around your shoulder. he grunts. “you can go to bed if you’re tired, handsome. i’ll come up later.” you look back at him as much as you can since he’s barely letting you breathe with how tightly he’s holding you. he huffs, droopy red eyes glaring down at the sandwich you were making for yourself like it was at fault for keeping you out of bed with him.

“ m’not tired.” he slurs, his hold tightens on you and he shoves his head into your shoulder. his hair tickles and you shuffle to the side a little. he follows.

you giggle to yourself. usually, katsuki would have some qualms about being so touchy where someone could walk in at anytime. it’s not like he was ashamed of being with you (not even close) but he has a reputation to uphold, y’know?

as if on cue, he yawns into your shoulder. you let out a light laugh and he nips at your shoulder in retaliation. “ i thought you said you weren’t tired ? what happened to that ?” you question teasingly, a sly little smile forming on your face. he mumbles something into your shoulder you can’t make out. “ i can’t hear you, love.” he groans, lifting his head up slightly but his eyes are still closed. “ s’cus yer takin’ forever. by the time you’re done i’ll be fuckin’ dead, dumbass.” he says before dropping his head back down on your shoulder like a load of bricks and you snort.

“ i’m done. i just want to go eat this sitting down but i can’t because someone won’t let me move.” you shoulder him lightly, he doesn’t budge, but grunts nonetheless.

“ jus’ eat it here.”

“ i’m not eating my sandwich standing up, katsuki.”

“ why the fuck not ?”

“ because !” you laugh “ i wanna enjoy my food !”

“ can enjoy it just fine with me here. why’re ya trying to get away from me ? s’your food less enjoyable when i’m around or somethin’ ?”

you roll your eyes but the smile on your face grows wider. “you’re such a baby.” you let out a light squeal when he pokes your side and lightly smack his arm, he huffs out a little laugh into your shoulder.

“katsuki !”

“fuck you, m’not a baby.”

“ could’ve fooled m—ow ! oh my god !” you yelp as he bites you and the fucker laughs. you huff, grabbing his arms to try to free yourself of the clutches of this absolute demon. he stops laughing then, grunting and groaning at you like you were the one inconveniencing him, while still keeping his head secure in your shoulder. the nerve of this guy.

“ katsuki.” you groan and he growls at you again, like a wild animal, like he’s daring you to try to escape him again. you sigh “ okay, okay, fine. you win, okay?” you say, admitting defeat while you can lest you have a sleepy, pissed off bakugou hanging off you.

“m’not a baby.”

“you’re not a baby.” you confirm. he squeezes you a little tighter and you sigh again. “can i at least go sit down ? i’ll even hold your hand on the way there, is that good ?” you say sarcastically. you snort when he lets out a grumble and pokes at your side and you can feel the unmistakable frown he has on his face.

“ told you m’not a baby.” he complains but he (begrudgingly) lets you go to let you move around. you turn around and he follows immediately. you have to hold back a laugh at the thought of a big buff bad boy like katsuki following you around like a lost puppy. you hold back your laughter but you’ve still got a dorky smile on your face when you sit down. katsuki’s not too far behind you, he never is. he pushes his chair way closer than it needs to be next to you and your knee is pressed against his when he sits down.

“what’re you grinning about, huh ?” you turn to look at him, dorky smile still very much on your face as you gaze at him. he’s still got that horrible frown on his face but his eyebrows aren’t scrunched up anymore, one of his perfect eyebrows is lifted up questioningly and he’s sitting so close to you you’re sure you can count the exact number of lashes he has.

“nothin’.” you sing, taking a bite of your sandwich. he huffs but doesn’t pry further. instead, he leans closer to you. you make eye contact and he looks at you expectantly. you know what he wants after a second, but you’re not gonna give it to him so easily. “ did you need something?” you ask innocently. his eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he’s glaring at you, he’s figured you out. he huffs for the umpteenth time today and he squints at you harder when you giggle lightly.

“ gimme some.” he says gruffly, already opening his mouth slightly like he knows you’ll share with him. and he’s right, because you do. you bring your sandwich closer to his face and he takes a bite, humming contentedly before leaning back into a more comfortable position, never too far though.

“you always take huge bites out of my food, my sandwich’s basically gone.” you tease, playfully pouting dejectedly at your sandwich, holding back a snort when he scoffs at you, offended.

“ fuck off.” he spits, but there’s no animosity in his words. he resorts to pinching your thigh to make up for it,“ didn’t even eat much, you big baby.” he says. usually he’d have something smarter to say but he’s tired now, and you originally intended to take full advantage of the situation, but you’re feeling nice today. he’s tired and you’ve made him wait long enough, in his eyes at least.

you roll your eyes, deciding to ignore his comment and take another bite of your sandwich. you eat in silence and he doesn’t say anything else after that. when you finish he practically jumps up from his seat despite his lack of energy, looking at you expectantly as if to say ‘let’s go already.” you giggle.

“ i hear you, handsome.” you coo, going over to place your plate in the sink, you could wash your plate later when he falls asleep, probably (if he somehow decides to let you go).

you feel like being a little mean to him as you stay where you’re standing by the sink and sigh. katsuki, who had already turned around to go upstairs, turns to you, eyebrow raised in question.

you hum, placing a finger on your chin “ i dunno, i still don’t feel full, maybe i should make another-"

you’re dragged by your arm towards him before you can even fully comprehend what’s happening or even finish your sentence. you let out a big belly laugh when he grumbles. he suddenly has you lifted over his shoulder and you yelp, wondering where the hell this herculean strength came from despite him being so tired.

“ m’tired of your shit, quit fuckin’ around so i can go to bed.” he slaps the back of your thigh lightly and you gasp, but you’re still giggling a little. “you know, you could’ve just went ahead with out me, i would’ve come eventually.” he scoffs like you had just told him something utterly foolish, like the concept of sleeping without you was unfathomable to him, you smile harder at the thought.

“ don’t be stupid,” he mumbles “as if i could do that.” he adds the last part quietly but you catch it either way, there’s blood rushing to your cheeks and you don’t know if it’s because you’re slightly embarrassed by his honesty or if its because he’s been holding you upside down this whole time.

when you get to the elevator, he places you back down. grabs you by the shoulders and squeezes like he’s trying to weld you to the floor and make sure you won’t move. “ we’re going to bed, now.” his tone is decided, clear. you’re not fighting him on this and you honestly don’t want to.

instead you smile, grabbing his hand and squeeze “okay, let’s.” you beam.

he squeezes back.

[angelsrcute]

DAY 1: Leona x GN!Fox!Reader; Jealousy sex + Scent kink.

Leona returned from training, he was all sweaty and couldn't wait to change. He would fall on his bed and never wake up ever again— he can only wish. As he reached his dorm building, he noticed you talking with another beastman— he didn't like how the guy was grinning ear to ear while talking.

Leona's pace quickened, his lion ears flattening against his head as he strode towards you. The beastman noticed Leona's approach and quickly excused himself, giving you a nervous glance before hurrying away. You turned back to look at him, a sly grin on your face, “Hey there, Leona, what's up?”

“Don't ‘what's up’ me, you know what you were doin’.” Leona's eyes narrowed as he gave you an irritated smirk. He leaned in closer, wrapping his hands around your waist as he lowered his down to your neck, taking a deep breath, “You smell like that fucker, i don't like it. Did you forget who you belong to?”

A faint blush coloured your cheeks, “I-I don't know what you're talking about— we were just having a friendly talk.” “Friendly? As if. That guy was getting too chummy with you.” A smirk tugged at his lip's, “Oh, better yet, I'll remind you so you don't forget again.”

Your head was held up by his hand while he was behind you, his lips trailed along your jaw to neck, leaving kisses and bite marks on your skin. Your face was flushed and sweat glistened on both your bodies, your protests were cut off as he inserted a finger in your hole, your hips bucking involuntarily against the touch, “Cat got yer tongue? Where's your big mouth, little fox?”

You whimpered as his fingers started moving slowly, you couldn't form the words to argue back. He pulled out his fingers and gave his cock a few strokes before positioning himself behind you, filling you up with his length. “S-shit…slow down— please..!” “You'll get used to it in no time, don't worry.”

Leona's hands gripped your hips, his claws digging into your flesh and leaving marks as he pounded into you. Your moans muffled by the pillow as you held onto it tightly, eyes are teary— the sound of skin slapping and your moans filled the air. God, you hope everyone's still training. He doesn't look like he's satisfied yet.

[satoruhour]

Accidentally sending gojo a nude and before you can properly apologise he sends a video of his own which leads to..well🫣

BABY BLUE SWEETNESS

a/n: my clit grew hands and wrote this. combined this w/ a part 2 of being gojo’s roommate / tagging @jabamin @hyomagiri @utahimeow @lov3rbody my gojo fuckers

wc: 3.7k (I HAVE GOT TO STOP WRITING SM ....)

warnings: mutual pining, roommate!gojo, dom!gojo, he gets rough but only bc he loves ur pussy sssoooo much, sending nudes by accident to gojo, semi-public m! masturbation, filming (on gojo’s end), pet names, praise, slight f! masturbation, oral / cunnilingus, nipple play, bit of dialogue during sex, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink (twice!), multiple rounds, implied m! oral, n*sfw under the cut

the next week goes by uneventfully.

but you think there’s hardly anything worth happening when you hadn’t even said anything about that: standing outside satoru’s room, hearing his pleasured moans along with the slickness of his hand on his cock and watching him at his most vulnerable with whispers of your name.

gojo did have a few moments of weakness — brief bouts of failing to meet your eyes, stuttering, but he was still predominantly himself after, throwing laundry on the floor and leaving the toilet paper roll unfilled. by date, he was the messiest roommate you’ve roomed with, compared to sleeping over at shoko’s and geto’s places before; sure it was obvious enough being friends with him since high school, though you hadn’t thought that the rowdy, outgoing way that he spoke would translate into his living space, too.

and despite being the one who has the upper hand that very day you decided to stop and watch, he still manages to have some sort of hold on you, catching you off-guard at the worst times.

“any luck with the mods?” gojo peeks over at your laptop over at the small dining table, your leg propped up and a scowl on your face at how you were still on the waitlist. while mr. perfect beside you has gotten every module he’s bidded for, a course on philosophy, romantic and 20th century music as well as an online mod about ethics.

“i don’t even know why you got that last one! funny how the most annoying person who has anything but morals is entering an ethics course.” maybe it was the fact that you’ve already waited one and a half weeks. perhaps it was that one piece of clothing gojo loved to leave on the floor, or simply it was just because of the man himself — you were on your wit’s end with the week.

that fades away when you’re turning your head and gojo is right there, hovering over your computer screen with a sly smirk on his face and his stupid bright, blue eyes that you could spend hours staring at.

“you wound me, baby,” gojo whispers, like it was a secret between the two of you and he pulls away, both hearts beating an unnatural speed at the proximity. gojo swears to himself he’ll never call you anything close to that or be that close because it’s absolutely not good for his heaving chest and hardening dick — those pretty plump lips of yours and the innocent look on your face — he wanted to both kiss it and fuck it.

and yet, on dormitory movie nights where you’re sat on both ends of the couch with geto and shoko between the two of you, satoru wills himself to patiently wait until the end of the first movie to stretch his limbs and get more snacks; he knows you’ll follow, too, because it’s been like that for as long as he can remember.

“you know you have to stop eating all that candy, right?” you’re saying it mindlessly, pouring more chips into a bowl and getting the hummus and guac, “it’s not healthy.”

gojo’s leaning on the counter and doesn’t help whatsoever, both elbows on the wood and head tipped back to meet your height.

“aw, is my cute roomie worried about me?” you almost want to ignore him with that little compliment, not sure if he even meant it, but you’re leaning into him this time with a little glance down to his lips that he thinks he imagined it.

“no, just wondering how embarrassed i’ll be when i have to tell the paramedics that when you finally collapse on the floor, it was because my dumb roommate had consumed too much sugar.” you like this little game you play with satoru, yet you’ve never been this bold; maybe it’s because you know he finds you hot, too, but the two of you are too stubborn to stand your ground and admit the obvious.

gojo’s feigned pout spreads into a grin and simply blows a raspberry at your explanation. there’s a crinkle of yet another sweet packet, disregarding your chastise from earlier. “smart little thing, hm?”

“i become the brightest when you’re involved,” you swipe the sweet from his fingers and pop it into your mouth, “i have to when i need to insult you.” the two of you spend the rest of the movie night hip to hip on the couch, ignoring the fire in your connected limbs and the spark of your fingers when they brush against each other.

it’s a few months before you’re fully embracing that you might not just find your roommate hot, but that maybe you’d want to “wife” him up as the other has expressed jokingly. it didn’t help that gojo is cleaning up a little more often these days, learning how to cook and using his inside voice like you told him to (you didn’t think he’d remember). the last straw was possibly seeing him fuss over you when you fell sick, switching to remote classes just so he could be close to you — his main excuse was that he didn’t want his laundry to be infected.

“but you don’t even like to use shirts half the time you’re home!”

“you’re calling this home—” gojo giggles while simultaneously shoving cough mixture down your throat, “i didn’t know we were married!”

“shut your trap before i really make you regret this.”

but gojo thinks that maybe it wasn’t so bad to come home to you in one of his future days, he just had to get through this first.

it was meant to be a simple photo to show off your new set of lingerie, the ones that you had gotten with your girls at a half-off price just the other day. you couldn’t blame yourself when your hands naturally reached for one that mirrored gojo’s eyes alongside the white details that represent his hair. buy it, take a potential nude and laugh about it in the group chat, that’s all. you felt so damn sexy in it that you even went as far as to take a few photos with your bra unclasped and phone in hand hiding your chest, until the very last one where it was fully off.

you felt unlike yourself, in that stuffy, small dorm while satoru was out in a lecture—

before gojo texts you about groceries and his chat moves to the very top that same moment you’ve got all these lewd, unnatural pictures of you waiting to be sent. it happened all too fast: at least 10 being delivered and read on the spot that your panic is indescribable and you want to melt into mush on the floor.

while you’re scrambling to delete them, gojo stares at your figure in that last racy picture, hands skilfully covering your breasts just enough that he could still see the curve of them and then down to your figure interrupted by a pretty pair of blue lace undies. it’s like you planned this, looking so delectable in your little get-up until it all disappears and you’re sending multiple messages of “i’m so sorry”’s and “it was an accident”’s.

gojo thanked the heavens he was sat at the very back of the lecture theatre, immediately booking it out of there with the images of you seared into his brain. his cock is throbbing and so, so hard it almost hurts to walk to the restroom, and you’re still continuing your apologies. he wants to scream at you — how you do not need to say sorry for whatever you’ve just sent, because as he removes his dick from his tight pants, there’s a soft sigh of your name that falls from his lips.

satoru is reminded of the times you’d be sat in your stupid booty shorts in the dorm, basically showing your folds because he just knew you didn’t like to use underwear underneath. he’s reminded of the times you had to (unwillingly) use one of his shirts when the washing machine had broken down and the only thing on his mind at the time was what you’d look like bouncing on him — he thinks that maybe he just needs to spit it the fuck out, and so he opens the video feature on your private chat.

“this is what you do t’me, baby,” gojo’s tip is already leaking so much pre-cum, making sure he can be seen, expression and all, “you make me so— s-shit— fucking hard.”

he didn’t even care if he could be heard, pumping his cock to the thought of you in that baby blue set of lingerie. he thinks of ripping it all off of you and buying you more just so he could do the same thing again and again, eyes scrunching up in bliss as his hand continues to move up and down his length. his hand isn’t even close to what he wants to feel — your tight pussy sucking him in — but he settles for it, squeezing his palm around his shaft and thumbs his tip.

“ya see this, angel?” gojo chokes out a moan when he sees another notification of ‘i really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable’ and it was the exact opposite for him in this bathroom stall, really hoping this video would drive his point home, “s’all for you, f— fuck.”

the video is incoherent from then on, because it’s all too much for him, the strokes of his warm hand, the images of your body, the sensitivity of his cock. lewd noises of him jerking off and his whines echo throughout the restroom, cumming with a slack mouth and babbles of your name on his lips.

“fuck, fuck, fuckkk…” satoru can hardly care as his cum stains his shirt, leaving his cock in needy spurts that dribble down his hand as well, wishing he could see it against your skin instead of his own. the end of the video is messy and hasty that he doesn’t even think much as he sends it, but it’s not even halfway through the video before you’re sending a simple “please come back, now.” and his heart jumps in his chest.

gojo simply shoots a quick text to geto, asking him to help him pack his things because he will definitely not be returning.

you’re so glad you don’t have any more classes for the day, too, because all you can think about now is satoru and his cock, blessed again with the sight of him losing himself in pleasure except now, he knew. your hands aren’t hesitant in reaching down to your core, lingerie already soaked through as you watch the short two minute video over and over as you lazily play with your clit with your eyes trained on his hand. it’s so hypnotising you don’t realise gojo’s already home, standing at your room door with his bulge showing through his pants and sweat lining his brow.

“did you run here?” you sit up, hands covering your chest instinctively. he shakes his head and you remove them.

“you know the bus will take too long, baby.”

you ignore the flutter of your heart and pussy when you know he says the pet name with intent, now, not in a joking or teasing manner. you want to hear it more.

“was that really an accident?”

you’re kneeling on your bed now, and gojo just wants to shut you up and make you take back all your apologies.

“it was!” you counter, not minding how your roommate slips his hand around your waist and is just inches from you, “but…”

gojo never truly loses his personality even when he’s hot and bothered, “but what, princess?”

that’s new.

you grin at his chivalry even when you’ve got your chest all vulnerable like this: he’s trying to break you with his eyes, the one thing that led you to choose baby blue in the first place. you win when his eyes flit down to your tits.

“but you still ended up sending me a video of you jerking off — hardly any decorum, huh, satoru?”

gojo rolls his eyes, hands trailing up your body and coming to rest at your boobs, “yeah. but you love it.”

that’s all he says before he dips down and takes a nipple into his mouth, leaving your hands to tangle in his hair as your back arches to give him more space. he’s so hungry, swirling his tongue around your hardened bud as he kneads the other, eyes occasionally meeting yours from your chest.

“d’you like the vid?” his speech is muffled.

“like it? i loved it—” a soft moan leaves you, “didn’t know you were such a sub, though.”

gojo laughs into your skin and you’re obsessed with the feeling, challenging him when he reaches your eyes again with a glint in his eyes.

“oh, you’re in for it, baby.” gojo grins, capturing your lips and feeling so free now that everything’s out in the open. he’s finally able to feel your lips on his, so soft and slow, making him go crazy from such a simple gesture. gojo pushes you gently onto your bed, kissing down your exposed body before coming to your pelvis, playing with the hem of the underwear.

“gotta thank this little guy for solving our problems.”

“please do not call my lingerie ‘little guy’,” you giggle, letting him remove the garment and you preen at the praise he gives your pussy.

“s’wet… is this all for me?” gojo shamelessly inhales your essence, the sight of him between your legs enough to make anyone cum.

“yeah…” it’s a whisper when you say it, breathless and impatient yet loving the way he treats you. “i get wet only for you, ‘toru.”

gojo moans at that, eyes rolling back momentarily before his mouth descends on your pussy and you think you can hear a brief hymn of hallelujah. he savours your cunt slowly, licking lazy stripes up and down your pussy and your moans match them — soft, drawn out — hands playing seamlessly with his hair. gojo’s startling baby blues meet you for a second and he smiles softly before he places a kiss to your clit.

a twitch, and satoru fully shows his expertise in the next second, eating you out like he was a starved man and you were the last meal on earth. your roommate sucks on your clit, groaning into your core as he feels your thighs close in around his head and your heels dig into his back. he switches easily to your hole, driving his tongue into the leaking entrance and his nose starts to nudge at your nub.

“satoru— s-shit!” your moans increase in volume, hands pulling harshly at his locks. “feel s’good—”

“yeah?” he speaks into your cunt, slurping up your juices time and time again until his jaw aches. your pussy just tastes so sweet that it’s got him grinding into the bed, too, relieving his cock with desperation. “was made just to eat you out, sweetness.”

“doing so well— are you close?” it was difficult to hold on when satoru was talking to you like that and devouring you so good, thumb now playing with your folds while his tongue focuses primarily on your clit again. he flicks at it and his eyes look at you for your answer, merely nodding pathetically as his abuse on your cunt is relentless. gojo would love to memorise the way you clench around his thumb, but he’s too fixated on your whines before you cum with a cry of his name.

“o—oh fuck— ‘t-toru! oh my goddd…” his mouth never stops moving even when your thighs tremble around his head and your body convulses, clit throbbing in his mouth and your mewls reaching the highest heavens.

gojo grins into your cunt, making sure you watch him as he collects all your juices onto his tongue, giving your pussy one last satisfied lick before he sits up, making quick work of his pants and he shows you how to not have one ounce of decorum like you commented on earlier—

because as he pumps the cock you saw just minutes ago, you tongue darts out to lick your lips unknowingly. as he drags the tip along your folds, you’re spreading your legs wider for him. as he slaps his cock along your cunt, your hips are moving on their own accord to feel more of him.

“filthy girl,” gojo leans in to your face, “talkin’ bout me having decorum. you should see yourself.”

you laugh, bringing him in for a brief kiss. you liked that you still could banter in times like this.

“i’ll admit i never had it, so it would b-be—” gojo slips just the tip in and you’re cut off, a choked whimper leaving you, “hypocritical to criticise you.”

“ya think?” gojo wiggles his hips gently, sinking into you and the squeeze of your cunt around his cock is too perfect, too tight. his own whines leave him as he eases inch by inch into you before you’re confessing.

“y’know after seeing you jerk off that day— f-fuck, in your room,” you mumble, wrapping your legs around his middle that causes him to moan, “i wanted nothing more than to help you clean up, cum and all.”

gojo chuckles breathlessly, you two have been pining for months? but he recovers just as quickly, bottoming out with a loud sigh. he lets your hands travel over his face, holding it in your palms.

“y-yeah? why didn’t you?”

“wasn’t sure if you liked me—” a whine cuts through your words as he takes the first slam into you.

“i’ll make sure you know how much i like you, baby, ‘kay?” gojo manages to get out before his hips moves into you, no longer able to hold conversation with the way your cunt sucks him in. he’s determined now, to show you how someone like you had a hold on him so strong that he was willing to pick up dirty clothes and take time out of his day to collect groceries. it’s not long before your roommate is able to pick up a pace, loving the way you trap him with your legs as his hips piston in and out of you.

the room is so much more stuffy, now, filled with the scent of sweat and sex as his pelvis meets your ass in timed thrusts. it was so filthy, too, cum from your previous orgasm aiding him as lube and sticking to his pubes from how much you were dripping.

“y-yeah— fuck me like how you’ve been wanting to, ‘toru—” you mumble out softly, already drunk on his cock. you swear you can feel the veins and his cockhead twitch at that, the sounds of the other filling your ears.

“you take me so, so well, baby,” gojo praises, face buried in your neck as he gives you kisses there, mind blank except for how you’re so wet that your arousal is spurting everywhere each time he comes up to the hilt in you, “taking my cock and squeezing me s’good.”

little pants leave you at the affirmations, and like always, gojo is a fast learner, already knowing your sweet spots when a hand sneaks down to rub at your clit. the circles go in time with his thrusts, and before then, you’re jerking in his arms, nails scratching at his back as your pussy spasms on his cock. gojo groans into your skin, hips still ramming into you before the clench of your cunt prompts him to cum as well.

“right there— s-shit!” you’re moaning when you can feel his cum seeping into you, the exact thing you’re imagining feeling even better as he loads you up, but you don’t have time to react when gojo flips you over. a quick glance to his face tells you he’s intoxicated on your pussy, pressing down on your arch.

“can you handle— another load— baby?” it comes out in between his thrusts, the way he begs to cum in you again and you’re never one to deny when you’ve wanted this for the longest time. you let satoru use you, face buried in the sheets below you while his thrusts start to turn sloppy. he’s not giving one fuck that he’s cummed the fastest he’s ever done before and how he’s going to do it again, but it’s inevitable when he’s got your cunt wrapped around him.

“y— yes, satoru— want you to fill me up, p-please—” it all overloads him: the way his cock disappears into your hole, the residual cum from earlier sticking to your ass and his pelvis, that white ring of semen around the base of his dick, your desperate pleas and cries.

it only takes one stroke of his hand on your clit before you’re cumming so fast again together with him, fingers grasping at the sheets as your pussy flutters around his length and you get his second load in return. it’s so viscous and hot, spilling into your hole. it’s so much, body going limp against satoru’s messy thrusts as he continues to rut into you, stilling finally when he starts to cramp in his thighs.

“attagirl, that’s it, sweetness,” gojo gasps out from behind you, staying locked in you as his cock spurts out the last bits of his cum. he presses a small kiss to your shoulder, asking softly into your skin if you were okay.

“more than okay—” a small mewl is heard when gojo pulls out slowly, sighing to himself upon seeing the way your cunt push out his cum naturally. there’s so much of it, spilling onto the sheets, but before he can take it upon himself to plug two fingers into your entrance, you’re dragging him to lie properly on the bed—

“not done?” your roommate laughs, a hand playing with your neck and the hickeys he’s left there.

you shake your head, noting how satoru’s cock is still sensitive when your hand closes around it, and you finally can see gojo in all of his glory when your tongue kitten licks at his tip and a shiver travels through his body. his hooded eyes and the buck of his hips are all you need to continue.

“i haven’t told you how much i like you, ‘toru. should i show you now?”

somewhere on your dresser, there’s several messages from your girls, but you’re too preoccupied with satoru’s cock in your mouth to notice — ah, well, you’d update them later.

[6:23pm, operation get (y/n) a partner]: photo attached (4)

@(y/n) girl where is your pic !!!! show us that cute baby blue lingerie pleaseee!!

[mrsoharaa]

when cozily laying on top of him slowly turns into a lazy, gradual fuck.

[yandereunsolved]

Yandere Aegon with barkeep reader—you aren't getting paid enough for this.

Yandere Aegon always escaped to Fleabottom to indulge in pleasures and escape painful memories. The weight of the crown on his head nearly snapped his neck every time he was forced to wear it. Yet here, in Dragon Breaths Tavern, he was simply another stranger within the crowd of thousands. He always chose to conceal his appearance, but his voice was always what gave him away.

He has a favorite barkeep: you.

You always listen to his ramblings. You make sure he has somewhere to sleep when he is far too intoxicated to escape back to the castle. You're irritable and snap at people. It's hot. You never let anyone get away with anything in the bar, not even him. 

Mhm.

He'd whine your name in the middle of the night when his mind was far too gone to care about the possible consequence.

Yandere Aegon is incredibly talkative while drunk. His depression, or known at that time as just an incurable sadness, was on full display. He'd ask for your strongest drink and order so many that he forgot his name and title. It was almost endearing. He'd babble on about what made him sad, and you'd listen attentively.

You didn't have to worry much about people realizing he was the king. The ones that did disappeared. They were murdered, most likely.

You may have no formal education, but that doesn't make you completely inept.

You could see the unhinged glint in his violet irises. You could tell he was getting attached. You just couldn't do much about it. You need the job, and he never forgets to give you a hefty tip for your service.

Yandere Aegon has propositioned you on multiple occasions. Most of the time he's plastered, a handful he's not. He always gives you a sly smile and some fleeting touches. You scolding him only makes him want you more. He's hard more than he's drunk.

Whether you agreed to it or not, the only difference is time. If you love him, then you get your freedom just a bit longer. If you're stubborn about your love, then he'll make sure there are chains around your hands, ankles, and most importantly, heart.

Yandere Aegon makes you take a job in the castle. You become the cupbearer. It's a job that doesn't bring much excitement, unless you count pompous nobles talking through their asses 'excitement'. You make a good amount of coin. Your social status rises faster than a dragon taking to air.

Your own room. A room near Aegon's.

It is as if he purposefully thinned the walls, much to your displeasure. You can hear the moans from whores and Aegon alike during the hours when everyone is given rest. It's an endless torture that slips into your dreams, making them wetter than you've ever dreamt before.

Yandere Aegon has many people thinking it is inappropriate to have a commoner suddenly peak the king's interest so blatantly. You are no longer the dirt on the bottom of the nobility's shoe. You are almost equal, if not greater, due to the protection you are afforded by the ruler.

Rumors aren't needed. They will say their peace to your face. They don't fluff it up with their frivolously sacchariferous words. Those who dare are crude and ruthless.

The next day they'll end up with their heads on pikes outside the castle.

Yandere Aegon wants you as a second spouse. He fucks other whores, but only because he can't have you all day and night. He'll stop after the both of you get married. He knows it's a pipdream. He's the king, though.

Who is going to stop him?

It's not going to be Alicent or Otto.

He's not letting Aemond fucking touch you. Asshole tried to char him once. He got out with multiple scars, but he is able to walk and is still quite a looker. Aemond won't steal you. He'll the gut the fucker before it comes to that.

Yandere Aegon just needs alcohol and you. It's the only two things that're keeping him securely tethered to this world. Your specialty is alcohol. It's a match made in the heavens.

tags: ( @kawaiicoffeedream ) & ( @littybeech )