My Sword Insures Your Crown

I want #league of villains to stomp on me.

tw: weed, reader gets visible bruises.

He isnt sure how his apartment became your after club crash pad, but you're here, on his couch. drink and a little high. Tomura knows you're fucking stoned from the way you sink into the couch, legs spread, head tilted back. It almost looks like sleep has taken you, but you'll occasionally look his way, eyes barely open.

"So the guy tried to fuck me, right?" you continue your story. "Pulls down his pants and he's completely soft. Like, completely. Like trying to jam a marshmallow into a keyhole."

Tomura grimaces so hard that he can feel the wrinkles forming. "Jesus christ."

"That's what I said!" you say. "He was like 'baby, I can't get it up, we're in public, blah blah blah.' It was barely public, for the record. A bathroom stall with a door? Like, come on, dude. Man up and fuck me."

Tomura can't stand these stories. He also thinks about them when he watches porn.

"Can't believe that shit ass perfume works for you." He snubs the roach of the joint in the ashtray.

"You like it so much, don't you?" you coo. "Makes your fucking mouth water."

With a scoff, Tomura rolls his eyes away from you. "I have dry mouth."

"Hey," you glance over to him with half closed eyes and a cocked smile. "Do you wanna do me a favor?"

Tomura is swimming on the moment. God, he hates how you know you're hot, how you sway that pretty body specifically for male attention.

"No."

"Aw," you say. "But it's something you'll really like."

With just a hooked finger, you drag your top down, all the way until they pop free. Jewelry catches the light. He knew your tits were pierced - you never wear a bra - but seeing them, pretty gemstones against your skin, makes his body go rigid.

"Suck on then?" It's not a request. It's an order.

Tomura thinks he's smoked too much pot. His lungs suddenly ache.

"Fuck off."

The fat of your tit jiggles when you flick at your jewelry bar.

"Fuck off. You're just horny because that guy couldn't fuck you."

But Tomura is already crawling towards you, staggering across the room, slotting himself into the space between your legs... Your ribs vibrate with a giggle as he desperately leans over, his chapped lips ghosting over your skin.

There's nothing soft enough on him, nothing worth touching you. He shouldn't do this, shouldn't be so fucking pathetic, and yet he presses his lips into you.

The metal is so warm in his mouth. He presses the flat of his tongue against it and breathes in, pulling on you gently.

"Not like you're a fucking baby." You pull him away by his hair, just far enough to give him a fucking look. "Suck'em like a whore."

His inexperience is showing. Tomura sucks until his teeth go hollow and your body rolls, bucking into him as your legs kick out. He toys with the bar clumsily, with his pointed tongue, wetting it with his tongue and testing anything for your approval.

"Yeah, fucking flick it. There you go." Your hand is shifting beneath him, working in jagged little circles. "Knew you didn't have dry mouth."

Oh, that pisses him off. Your smart ass attitude. He catches your skin between his teeth in defiance.

"Mm, fuck." Your back arches. "Yeah, use your teeth."

Up close, your perfume is less gummy bear and more complex. It's flirty, slightly floral, marked with the musk of your sweat.

"Fuck yeah. Mmm. Leave a hickey. Aa-- aaa--"

He does. Tomura will do anything you ask him to. He doesn't know where to put his hands; if he should be touching you or keeping himself away from you. Just as he starts to get a rhythm, you jank him back by his hair again. This time, your skin is glistening with his spit.

"I have another tit too," you direct his mouth to your neglected tit.

You're going to cum; Tomura can tell by the way you're whining and cooing and squeezing that fist in his hair. He can smell your arousal too, hear how your pussy clicks with its own wetness-

It's with a garbled, high sound that you come undone, feet sliding against the couch, torso twitching. Tomura pulls away when you push at his forehead, pulling in a breath he didn't know he needed.

"Shit." Tomura wipes the spit from his mouth.

"Hey." Your skin is blossoming with bruises. "Can you roll another blunt?"

That cuts through the haze of his arousal. He leans back onto his knees.

"Yeah. Sure. Fine. Whatever."

The rhythm of his heart just won't go down, not even as he rolls the paper and licks the edges. It's Spinner's weed, but he doesn't care about that right now, not when you're lounging like that, tits still out.

(He almost wishes that Spunner would come home and see you like this, with him.)

((He hopes Touya never comes home ever again. He'd see you like this and immediately flash that hot smile or whatever he does-)

"Tomu," you coo. "Wanna take a couple puffs and keep going?"

"What do you mean 'keep going?'"

Your knees fall apart, exposing your wet soaked panties, the cotton visibly damp-

"You can try to put that marshmallow in," you laugh. "If you're up for it."

anyways.

hi guys it’s not hard to make ur x reader fics racially ambiguous :3 hi guys it’s not hard to make ur x reader fics racially ambiguous :33 hi guys it’s not- *gunshot*

mdni :p

choso thanking u when he cums in ur pussy….. he’s all whiny and flushed, unshed tears stinging his eyes as he thrusts into you. he’s gripping at whatever part of your body he could get to, your tits, your tummy, your thighs — his brain can’t decide what to do with his hands even while he’s in the throes of pleasure. it was cute, you would’ve teased him about it if you weren’t in the same state as him.

“fuck, i’m gonna-” his breath hitches and cuts him off, though you knew what he meant. you could feel him about to pull out and let out a whine of protest, wrapping your legs around his waist so he stopped moving. he looked at you with a confused expression, looking almost akin to a puppy with the way he cocked his head to the side slightly.

his eyes widened when you begged him to cum inside of you in that pretty voice of yours. how could he ever refuse you?

suddenly your knees are being pressed to your chest and his thrusts become more erratic, desperately chasing his high so he can do what you asked. he’s babbling almost incoherently, completely pussydrunk. “fuck- thank you, baby, thank you so much… gonna fill you up so good, i promise.”

he hides his face in your neck when he cums, whispering thank you’s into your skin like a mantra. he stays like that for a second, his weight a pleasant warmth as he slumps against you while recovering from his high.

“can i… can i do that again? please?” his voice is so soft. tentative, as if he was afraid of you rejecting him. you only nod in response, still catching your breath from the last round.

how could you ever say no when he was so polite?

abt to redownload love and deepspace for. reasons.

someone needs to arrest mist. matching someone's freak this well can't be legal

i so badly wanna write the preliminary meeting that i mentioned in the yandere suguru thing…………. i just think it’ll be funnnn teehee ^^

reblogging this bc it’s so cute and TMMRWS MY BDAY YAYYY 19 on the 19th is so cute and aesthetic

☆ gojo satoru x gender-neutral!reader ⇢ domestic fluff, established relationship.

you’re woken up by a kiss.

gojo satoru smiles against your lips, only allowing a hair’s breadth of space to form in between you both as you let out an annoyed huff. you roll onto your back and he towers over you, arms braced on either side of your head.

“hi,” he whispers, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“go to sleep,” you grumble, cracking one eye open lazily.

“it’s midnight.”

“exactly.” you try to turn over, but he nuzzles into your neck, pressing a brief, open-mouthed kiss to the sliver of skin exposed near your shoulder. 

“you know what that means.” he presses his fingers into your waist, bunching up your robe. his hair tickles your neck; you smile.

“it means you need to sleep,” you say pointedly, squinting into the darkness. you bring a hand up and card it through his hair. he sighs softly when you lightly scratch on his scalp.

“and it also means it’s a new day already.”

“‘s not a new day ‘til the sun comes up,” you murmur sleepily.

satoru doesn’t argue. he only grabs your hand and kisses the inside of your wrist. the muted lights that penetrate the darkness through your open window are reflected in his eyes—but he looks at you like you’ve hung up all the stars in the sky, just for him.

“happy birthday,” he says, mouth splitting into a wide grin, and despite your drowsiness, you let him pull you into a kiss.

Could you imagine Aizawa’s forearms while he chokes you? Thick with veins popping out as he holds you down by your neck and fucks you

tw: choking/breath play

-

Most of the teachers have left, but you're still there with the final stragglers, happily sipping on your fourth espresso martini of the night.

Not that aizawa's counting.

No, he's not even paying attention to you. Not at all. He's only came to this end of the year celebration because he likes overpriced beer and dealing with his annoying friends.

No other reason.

The group has dwindled down to a smaller inner circle, just close friends and their close conversations. Aizawa isn't sure how the conversation turned to sex (probably Midnight's fault) but he can't help but be a little intrigued.

Especially since the questions are now being directed at you.

"Oh come on, don't be like that! Everyone has some sort of kink!" Mic says, much too loudly. He's gesturing with his beer, spilling little splatters across the table, much to everyone else's chagrin, "I like mean women, Midnight likes-"

"Everything." Midnight herself interrupts with a laugh before stuffing a dumpling into her mouth.

You join into the laughter, coyly shielding your smile with the back of your hand, a secret that only Aizawa can discover from where he sits. Your eyes flicker to Aizawa's and he immediately looks away, down to the slow rising bubbles of his drink. Tomorrow, when you're both dry, you'll probably regret the accidental flirtations.

"So, spill!" Mic demands.

"I can't!" you whine, "It's embarrassing."

"Vlad once told me he likes feet-- it can't be more embarrassing than that," the blonde leans in over the table, waggling his brows, "Unless you're into feet, then I have the perfect man for you."

Aizawa scoffs. Thankfully, the sound of it is swallowed by the ambient noise of the bar.

"Well, I guess..." Your hand travels up your chest, coming to rest on your collarbone. There's a far off gaze in your eyes and a toothy smirk unfolding across your features, like you're remembering something that you'll never share, as your hand travels even farther up. Your fingers close around the soft of your throat, nails into skin, and Aizawa's breath catches in his throat--

"I like being choked," you admit.

It almost doesn't break him. He's almost strong enough to pretend he's not captivated by the idea-

"Makes me cum really hard."

and then you squeeze. Your forearm flexes and your eyes flutter just for show, pulling scandalized giggles and laughter from the rest of the group, but Aizawa is immediately locked in fantasy.

The thought of how just one of his hands could wrap itself easily around your neck, how much thicker his palm is next to yours, how it can cover the whole spanse of your throat-- it knocks a breath out of him with much he enjoys it. And god, he'd look so strong, veins bulging as he fucked you stupid, those pretty little eyes getting that far off glaze again as you make a mess of his cock, no breath in your lungs to even beg for more-

"What about you, Eraser?" Mic's voice breaks him out of his daydream, "Are you ever going to confess what tickles your fancy?"

Aizawa takes a long chug from his drink, until the heat of desire is replaced with the burn of alcohol. Instead of quieting him like he wants, it makes him brave-

and stupid.

His eyes flicker to you for a second before returning to the group. "I like choking."