#SMUTTY FEELS

[cuntphoric]

higuruma watches every second of it. he can't miss it. his eyes are so fixated on the way your body trembles and finally lets go. the moment your cum spills out, his lips part, and there's a sharp intake of breath, the sight alone is enough to knock the wind out of him. he doesn't look away - not even for a second - as the warm, slick mess drips down between your thighs, smearing across your skin, pooling where his fingers had just been working you open. "fuck," he mutters under his breath, his voice with underlying softness, tinged with something meaner. "look at you."

he doesn't hesitate as he makes his next move. one hand wraps around your thigh, firm, keeping you spread open for him as his other hand trails down, fingers dipping into the mess of your release. white coats his fingertips almost immediately, sticky and warm, and he smears it deliberately over your swollen, overstimulated clit. you jerk at the sensation, but he doesn't stop; he presses down just enough to make you gasp. "you're fucking perfect like this," he cooed, dripping with lust. "messy, desperate, all for me."

and then his head dips, his lips brushing against the inside of your thigh before his tongue drags across your skin, collecting everything single drop you've gave him. he goes right for it, his mouth pressing to your center, tongue sliding through the slick mess and groaning like he's just tasted his favorite fucking thing in the world. "you taste so good," he mumbles against you, his voice all muffled and raspy.

oh he's so pussy drunk on you.

he doesn't hold back. he licks deep, groaning against you as the taste of you spreads across his tongue. "so fucking good," he sighed, the vibration of his voice sending a shiver straight through your core. his hands grip your thighs tighter, spreading you wider as he dives in again.

when he finally pulls back, his chin is shiny, his lips wet and swollen. his eyes met yours, dark and full of something that makes you feel like you could cum again and again. "so.. so pretty." and so, with that, he held up two of his fingers that were coated of your release just long enough to make you blush before licking them clean slowly. "let's get you cleaned up."

a/n: dedicated to @sugucide because shes the main reason why i wrote this!!

[heylittleriotact]

So our Rooks have all been reduced to giggling, blushing piles of goo by Professor Volkarin and his very adroit wielding of Praise, but I come bearing strange and intriguing gifts. Hear me out:

Emmrich has a praise kink too.

Rook can reverse Uno him with (genuine) flattery. Things like simple compliments about how good he is at explaining the Veil so that people can understand; how refreshingly kind he is; how patient he is with Manfred. He's a gentleman about it, but he GOBBLES it up. He LIVES for it. He's a fucking career academic - his life is literally built around people actively telling him that he's smart and useful.

So imagine the absolute undoing of him the first time Rook whispers breathlessly into his ear while he's balls deep in them that he fucks them so good.

He tastes like heaven.

He knows just what to say. Knows how to find just the right spots every time.

He is so, sooooo good...

Meanwhile Emmrich is like "No, no, wait - I'm supposed to be pleasing you. Stop it!"

And Rook just continues heaping praise and compliments on him until he goes over the edge, unable to help it because these honest, genuine words from his person are confirmation that he is loved and valued and is a positive presence in their life. He matters.

[cruel-hiraeth]

꒰ FLESH OF MY FLESH; BLOOD OF MY BLOOD ꒱ KAMO CHOSO X READER — ft. itadori yuuji

warnings ⟢ dead dove: do not eat. minors do not interact—i will block you! incest. yandere elements. implied drugging. noncon. slight forced feminization (choso uses “sister” and she/her pronouns to refer to reader, but reader is nb). religious imagery. reader is yuuji’s twin, but no physical descriptors are used. reader has a vagina.

word count ⟢ 963

notes ⟢ this is part of @ficsforgaza’s kinktober event! my prompt was choso + incest. i have an au with big brother choso and twins yuuji and reader, so this was the perfect opportunity to explore their dynamic. a huge thank you to my dearest lexi—@drleggman—for requesting this (and for allowing me to go full degenerate) <3

“Yuu…”  “Yuu…ji…” “Yuuji…”

Your twin’s name ambles from your petal-soft lips, voice laden with slumber, muted snores drifting through the gaps. The bedroom you share is swathed in midnight’s gloom; moonbeams peek through the cheap apartment blinds, luminous stripes cutting across the men huddled above your nude figure.  

“Our baby sister seems to be having sweet dreams,” Choso states, mouth reluctantly detaching from your nipple, a silvery thread of spider silk connecting his lips to your tender flesh. “She’s naughty, though—calling out to you when I’m the one pleasuring her.”

Choso removes two thick digits from your weeping hole, examining the twitch of your jaw as he strums your clit with calloused fingertips. He experimentally increases the speed and pressure of his caresses, humming when you let out a whimper. As your breath grows heavier and your eyes flicker and dance beneath your lids, he pauses to smear your slick across your pubic hair, and scrapes his teeth up your neck to nip at your pulse point. 

Yuuji lies beside you, honeyed gaze soaking in the tranquil curves of your dreamy expression. He strokes the hair at your temple with the care of a collector admiring his choicest possession; he can’t help but drag his nose across your cheek, blotting a kiss at the hollow behind your earlobe.  

The reverence Yuuji treats you with starkly contrasts the way his muscular body presses against your softness, his bare cock dribbling pre onto the plush of your thigh. It’s something of a punishment that Choso doled out—not being able to indulge in you fully—upset with your twin for being secretive and possessive of you. But as far as Yuuji is concerned, to be anywhere in the halo of your presence is a heavenly gift. To merely witness your divinity, to press his lowly, sweaty skin flush to yours—it’s more than he deserves. 

“Don’t be too rough with them,” Yuuji fusses when Choso abruptly presses your knees to your chest, leveling his face with your spread cunt. “W-wait—I wanna taste, too.” 

After Yuuji shuffles over to join Choso, two sets of broad shoulders hunch over to marvel at your beauty. Yuuji fully expects to be chewed out again—perhaps even shoved off the bed or thrown out of the room; he swallows his pride and formulates a half-hearted apology, prepared to grovel for a chance to revel in you.

Instead, he grunts in surprise when he’s pulled into a kiss.

Chapped, chilly lips slip against his own, urging Yuuji’s mouth open, wet muscles intertwining. A shiver skitters across his limbs when he discovers the little silver ball that pierces Choso’s tongue—now bumping along the expanse of his palate, tracing the velvet of his gums. It’s a sloppy exchange of spit and teeth and tongue, too frenzied to be mistaken as purely passionate. Choso reaches over to swipe a thumb across Yuuji’s fat, leaking cock head. Yuuji keens into his brother’s mouth before ripping himself away, swollen lips parted, blooming rose from the tips of his ears down to his heaving chest.

“Let’s taste her together,” Choso rasps.

Not waiting for a reply, he pecks the fat of your hip before dipping down to lap at the arousal leaking from your hole; Yuuji watches heatedly, letting saliva pool on his tongue and drip onto your clit. He then cleans his mess with noisy sucks, occasionally tugging at your folds. Too preoccupied with coaxing your unconscious body to orgasm, the brothers don’t realize how you begin to stir, fingers and toes flexing and relaxing. They savor your eventual high, admiring your glistening release.

“I’ll have her first,” Choso announces thickly, Adam’s Apple bobbing as he swallows. He’s practically vibrating—pale skin dewy with desire—having fantasized about this exact scenario more times than he can count. “You should prop her up.”

Yuuji leans against the headboard and pulls you between his strong legs, your head resting on his chest. Choso angles your hips and pumps his throbbing length a few times before nudging your entrance. Your breathing shallows and you yawn; Yuuji’s heart catches in his throat.

“Fuck—how much did you give them? Clearly not enough,” he hisses, arms tightening around your waist. “I think they’re about to wake up.”

For the first time all evening, Choso smiles at Yuuji. It’s an unsettling sight: his knife-sharp inscisors gleam in the dusk, irises black as bruised plums. “Relax,” he soothes. “She’s going to enjoy this, too. It will become a treasured memory for us all.”

Before Yuuji can respond, your eyelids flutter open. “Ch-Choso…Yuuji…” you murmur, words slow and slurred as molasses, “what are you—”

The air is promptly punched from your lungs, a strangled yelp interrupting your train of thought as Choso enters you in a single thrust—cock so deep you swear you can taste it. One of Yuuji’s rough palms rests on your belly and meanly presses down with the movement; you throw your head back and warble a moan.

“Call me ‘onii-chan,’” Choso grits out, refusing to succumb to the squeeze of your cunt so soon.

“W-what?” you sniffle. Your brain is foggy from whatever concoction they gave you, incapable of piecing together your predicament.

He grasps your chin firmly, forcing your glazed stare to focus on him. “Onii-chan,” he repeats with a harsh snap of his hips.

You squirm, trying to turn to Yuuji for help, unaware of the tears carving hot rivulets down your cheeks. But Choso won’t let you go. His heavy frame eclipses yours, trapping you in place. “We’re family,” he huffs, fucking you steadily, umber strands falling to curtain his face.

“Everything we do, we do together. You have both been—nnghhh—selfish. It’s time to make it up to onii-chan.” 

[meracyn]

heyyy could u write a one shot of kwon x reader where they weren't able to see each other for months (reader travelled to a different country and he had to go to the tournament) but reader finally had the chance to go to the sekai taikai and surprises him? maybe suggestive ;) But fluff is ok too, thank youn!

UNSPOKEN DESIRES || kwon jae-sung

a/n: LMAOOO SNEAKY ANON but yk what ill do it (hes too fine). crazy how i wrote the bf hcs of him yesterday and now i got 3 reqs lmao, not complaining tho. also i want to find good icons to put on my kwon reqs but I CANT CHOOSE,,

warnings; SUGGESTIVE, cursing (only like..once), uhh thats all i think

Kwon stood up along with the rest of the Cobra Kai members, barely paying attention to the announcements being said at the moment— too deep in thought— thoughts of you.

The past few months were hard. Not just for him, for you too. You had to travel to another country for a while due to a family emergency regarding a very ill relative. Although you both facetimed and texted everyday, the distance was still there. It wasn’t the same.

The Sekai Taikai was able to get Kwon to focus on the tournament, but even so it wasn’t enough. His mind kept drifting off to you. He never thought your absence would affect him that much, but ever since you told him you had to stay there longer, he felt the ache in his chest deepen with each passing day. He probably wouldn’t say it out loud, but he missed you. A lot.

As everyone was allowed to leave, Kwon let out a sigh, head tilted a bit low as he walked with the rest of his dojo. What was up with him? He won every match he had, why did it not fuel him up with satisfaction anymore? Even messing around with other dojos wasn’t becoming as fun. It frustrated him.

“Hey, wanna go with us to a bar nearby later?” Yoon went up to him, slightly nudging his shoulder with his elbow.

Kwon snapped out of his thoughts, and stopped walking. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea, he could forget about the emptiness in his heart. “..Sure, why not. I could use some distraction.” He replied. Without saying anything else, he walked away.

· · ·

You let out a sigh of relief after managing to get inside the building where the tournament was being held. You may or may not have lied your way in by saying you were one of Cobra Kai’s backups and Sensei Kim requested you come here as an emergency.

Those at the desk were a bit skeptical, but thankfully didn’t question any further and let you pass.

You walked past the big hallways, trying to think where the rooms were, thinking he was probably resting. You couldn’t wait to see him again— his eyes, his hair, that stupid yet charming smirk he had on his face.

Suddenly, you passed by a teenage guy scrolling through his phone. Maybe he knew Kwon, it was worth asking.

“Uh..excuse me,” You started, a bit nervous as you walked up to him. “Do you know the room number Kwon Jae-Sung is staying in?”

Demetri looked up, an eyebrow raised at the..random question. Out of all the questions you could have asked, this one didn’t cross his mind. He glanced around the room, noticing how it was only you and him. “I don’t think..I can give out that information.” He replied.

“Oh, no. It’s not like that—” You said quickly. “I’m his partner. I wanted to see if he’s okay.”

“Partner?” Demetri repeated. “As in, sparring partner? Then you should kn—”

“No!” You exclaimed, interrupting him. You cleared your throat before continuing, “I meant..I’m his partner..romantically.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Demetri said, before nodding slightly. He leaned in to whisper the room number, then sat back down. “I’m sure he’s doing very fine.. but that’s the number.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” Relief washed over you, as you quickly left, going to the elevators.

Demetri watched as you left, before his eyes widened. “Wait. What if they’re not his partner?”

· · ·

Kwon got out of the elevator, laughing along with his team members who were all drunk and held onto each other for support.

Being at the bar did help him be distracted for a while, drinking along while the rest were doing bets on who could drink the most without getting drunk at all.

“Hey, why don’t we go out again for some more fun? It isn’t too late,” One of them suggested.

“Not a bad idea. Let’s go,— Kwon, you comin’?”

“Nah, I’m good. You guys go ahead.” He said. The others left, leaving him alone.

He opened the door to his room, shutting it behind him and turned on the lock. Walking over to his bed, he began to take off his shirt and draped a towel around his waist. Just as he was going to enter the shower, a finger tapped on his shoulder.

As he turned around, he was taken by surprise.

You were standing there, with a mischievous smile.

How did you get in his room? Was he dreaming? Was he too tired after training? Did he drink too much? Did he—

“I got you~!” You said with a chuckle.

He couldn’t feel his heartbeat— he couldn’t believe it. You were here, in front of him. After months of longing, of only talking through a screen, you were standing right there, your bodies’ mere inches away from the other. Without thinking, he closed the distance between you two, pulling you into his arms.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he mumbled into your hair, his fingers tracing the curve of your back, feeling the warmth of your body against his.

You laughed softly, pulling away slightly to meet his gaze, “I thought I’d surprise you.”

“Yeah..and you did,” He replied. “but now that you’re here..” His eyes trailed over your body up and down, voice low. The tension built between you both was obvious, the look in his eyes said it.

His lips twitched into a smirk, pulling you close to him again, “Tell me my love, did you miss me a lot?” He asked, in a teasing yet flirtatious tone.

“Maybe, who knows?” you mumbled, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Want to find out?”

Kwon didn’t reply, his lips crashing on yours as his hands instinctively held onto your waist. The kiss deepened, hinting at the need that every inch of his body begged for. It was obvious to you—he wanted more.

Your fingers went up his chest, your other hand pulling him even closer to you–if that was possible.

He pulled away for a second, as your eyes met. His dark eyes were full of lust, but also shone with a hint of mischief. Before you knew it, Kwon leaned in again, kissing your jaw and trailing down to your collarbone. Removing a hand that was on your hip, he held onto your leg, lifting it up as you curled it around his waist.

Kwon kept kissing your body, the sounds that left your lips only fueling his desire. He had your back pressed against the wall, and began to take off your shirt.

“Fuck..” He silently cursed to himself as he looked up to see your expression— cheeks red as you tried to steady your breathing.

“Looking like a mess, how cute. And just for me, right?”

You nodded frantically, wanting him to stop teasing and continue.

Knowing you were desperate, Kwon chuckled. “Don’t worry love, after so many months apart, I’m not done with you just yet.”

HELP I FEEL SO EMBARRASSED I FEEL LIKE I DID SO BAD ON THIS 💀 well it was definitely interesting to do lol..time to work on those other requests now

[riddleswhcre]

a lesson in desire

tom riddle’s control was absolute, his every touch deliberate and devastating—leaving you trembling against the marble sink, entirely at his mercy.

warnings: smut, p in v, public sex.

more

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

the faint rustle of parchment echoed in the otherwise quiet classroom. professor slughorn’s droning lecture about rare potion ingredients did little to distract you from the figure seated a few rows ahead—tom riddle, with his dark curls and sharp features, a vision of calculated calm. but the simmering tension between you and tom had long surpassed subtle glances or lingering touches.

unable to bear the ache coiling in your core, you scrawled a message on a scrap of parchment: "i need you, tom." folding it carefully, you flicked it toward his desk with a subtle charm.

moments later, his quill paused, and his intense gaze shifted briefly toward you before he scribbled a reply. the parchment slid back to your desk: "control yourself—we’re mid-lesson."

but your resolve was slipping, the heat between your legs growing unbearable. another note sailed back to him: "please, tommy." you knew what the pet name did to him, how it twisted his calm into something far darker.

he turned slightly, his piercing gaze locking onto yours. his lips quirked into a smirk as he wrote back: "fine. prefects’ bathroom. five minutes."

the grandeur of the marble-lined room seemed distant as tom’s presence filled every corner. the lock clicked behind him, sealing you in with the dark, dangerous aura that made your pulse race.

“you couldn’t wait?” his voice was low, a mix of amusement and menace. his eyes glinted with something predatory as he stalked toward you, his robes sweeping behind him.

“i couldn’t,” you admitted, your breath catching as he closed the space between you, his hand brushing your cheek before tangling in your hair. “i needed you.”

“you’re insatiable,” he murmured, but his lips were at your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “and you’ll be punished for it.”

before you could respond, he spun you around, pressing you firmly against the cool marble of the sink. his hand ghosted down your back, making you shiver, before gripping your hip with bruising intensity.

“be quiet,” he commanded, his voice sharp yet laced with desire. “unless you want someone to hear.”

your heart pounded as you whimpered softly. “use the silencing spell,” you begged, glancing at him over your shoulder.

his smirk deepened, and his grip on your hair tightened slightly, pulling your head back to expose your neck. “no,” he said, his voice dripping with wicked intent. “that would be far too easy.”

the press of his body against yours was electrifying, his hand tracing down your side before gripping the curve of your thigh. with deliberate control, he thrust his hips forward, his hardness pressing against you in a way that made your knees weak.

tom’s grip on your hip tightened, anchoring you firmly against the cool marble sink. the sharp contrast between the cold surface and the heat radiating from his body made your breath hitch. his other hand travelled down your side, his fingertips grazing your waist before settling on your thigh.

“you’re so desperate,” he murmured, his tone low and dangerous. “look at you, trembling before i’ve even touched you properly.”

the ache in your core pulsed with need as his words stoked the fire inside you. his free hand slid around to your stomach, pulling you back against him so that you could feel the hardness of his cock pressing insistently against you. the sensation sent a jolt of anticipation through you, and a soft whimper escaped your lips.

“quiet,” he hissed, his lips brushing your ear. “or do you want someone to come in and see what a needy mess you’ve become?”

you bit your lip, nodding slightly. the pressure of his hand on your stomach grew firmer as he moved lower, his touch deliberate and teasing. when his fingers finally slipped beneath your waistband, you couldn’t stop the sharp inhale that betrayed just how much you wanted him.

“already so wet,” he muttered, his voice laced with approval as his fingers dipped between your folds. “you’re practically begging, even without words.”

your legs trembled as he stroked your clit, his movements slow and maddeningly precise. each pass of his fingers sent a wave of pleasure coursing through you, leaving you gasping softly.

“you think you deserve to cum after the way you behaved in class?” he asked, his tone mocking. “i think you need to earn it.”

he withdrew his hand, leaving you shivering and aching for more. before you could protest, he spun you around to face him. his dark eyes bore into yours, his expression a perfect blend of control and desire. he unbuckled his belt with agonising slowness, the metallic click echoing in the room.

“you’ll take what i give you,” he said as he freed himself, his cock hard and ready. “and you’ll stay quiet while i remind you who’s in charge.”

your knees weakened as he positioned himself, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance. his hand cupped your jaw, tilting your head back so he could claim your lips in a searing kiss. the sensation was almost too much—his taste, his touch, the unrelenting need that built between you.

when he finally thrust into you, the stretch was overwhelming, a delicious mixture of pain and pleasure that made your head spin. he didn’t give you time to adjust, setting a brutal pace that had your hands gripping the edge of the sink for support.

tom’s movements were relentless, each thrust driving his dick deeper into your core. the force of his hips pressing against yours sent jolts of electricity coursing through your body, making it nearly impossible to suppress the cries threatening to escape your lips. his hands gripped your hips with bruising intensity, holding you firmly in place as he set a punishing pace.

“is this what you wanted?” he growled, his voice low and filled with barely contained desire. his dark eyes bore into yours, his smirk dangerous. “to be completely at my mercy?”

you nodded breathlessly, your fingers clutching at the cool marble for support. every movement felt overwhelming—his heat, the way his body moulded against yours, the delicious friction that left your legs trembling and your heart racing.

the room seemed to close in around you, the sound of your shallow breaths and the faint slap of skin against skin filling the space. each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through you, building an unbearable tension deep in your belly.

“you feel so perfect,” he murmured, his tone softening briefly as his hands slid up your sides, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. his fingers found your jaw again, tilting your head so he could press his lips to yours. the kiss was searing, possessive, a claim that left you utterly breathless.

tom adjusted his grip, one hand wrapping around the back of your neck as the other slid down to your thigh, pulling your leg up to wrap around his waist. the shift in angle sent a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through you, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

“quiet,” he hissed, his tone a mixture of command and warning. “you wouldn’t want someone to walk in, would you?”

your body trembled under his control, the weight of his dominance making it impossible to think clearly. he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “but then again,” he whispered, his breath hot and teasing, “maybe you want them to know how desperate you are for me.”

the tension in your belly coiled tighter with each thrust, the rhythm of his movements precise and unrelenting. his cock dragged against sensitive spots inside you, making your head spin. the way he filled you so completely, so perfectly, left you gasping for air, each sound you made quickly swallowed by his demanding kisses.

tom’s hand drifted down, his fingers finding the bundle of nerves between your legs and stroking it in time with his thrusts. the dual sensations were overwhelming, pleasure blooming through every inch of your body until you could barely stand.

“look at you,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “falling apart so easily. all because of me.”

your nails dug into his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor yourself as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses and faint marks that would linger long after this moment.

“i want to hear you,” he said, his voice commanding as his pace quickened. “don’t hold back.”

“tom,” you gasped, his name tumbling from your lips like a prayer.

“that’s it,” he growled, his grip on your hips tightening as he drove into you harder, his own breath hitching with the effort. “cum for me.”

the tension inside you snapped, a tidal wave of pleasure crashing over you as your release tore through your body. your cries were muffled against his shoulder as you clung to him, your body trembling violently in the aftermath.

tom followed moments later, his movements growing erratic as he reached his peak. he held you tightly against him, his breaths ragged as he buried his face in your neck.

for a moment, the two of you stood there, tangled together, the room filled with the sound of your heavy breathing. slowly, he pulled back, his hands sliding to your waist to steady you.

as the rush of your shared release faded, tom leaned against the marble sink, his forehead resting gently against yours. his normally pristine appearance was slightly unravelled—his dark curls messy, his shirt askew—but the sight only made him more devastatingly handsome.

“you’ve got a lot to answer for,” he murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips as his fingers traced lazy patterns along your waist.

you managed a soft laugh, your body still trembling as you leaned into his touch. “wasn’t it worth it?”

his eyes darkened slightly, though his smirk remained. “you’re lucky i enjoy keeping you in line.”

he stepped back, straightening his tie with practiced ease, though his gaze lingered on you—flushed, dishevelled, and entirely his. “fix yourself up,” he said, though there was an edge of amusement in his voice. “and next time, try to behave in class.”

you raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of a challenge playing at your lips. “next time?”

his smirk grew as he turned toward the door, pausing only to glance over his shoulder. “oh, there’ll be a next time. you’re far too irresistible for your own good.”

and with that, he disappeared, leaving you breathless and already anticipating the next moment he'd have you entirely to himself.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴. 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴. 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘭

[bakugoyelling]

Choso can’t help but gaze down at your pussy while he fucks you, his cock coated in your essence as he slides in and out. It’s beautiful, but the heady moans falling past your lips often have his eyes traveling up to look at your face instead — and what a sight, your face flushed and mouth agape. When your gazes match, he’s struck with the reminder that you are his.

No longer yearning for the other, the time you spent getting to know each other was worth it. Because now, you’re his to hold. To kiss, to care for. His to share intimate moments like this with.

His to love.

And that’s what this is — your bare bodies pressed against one another, fluids mixing as your breathy gasps signal to him that you’re close.

Your pleasure is Choso’s pleasure, a love letter his body writes against yours time and time again.

And he never tires of it — the familiar squeeze of your pussy around his cock prompts him to speed up, his thumb reaching down to circle your clit, as he gently mutters, “Cum for me baby, please. Please, I love you so much.”

And within seconds, it's those words have you trembling, a climax clouded in Choso’s adoration.

[fbfh]

Do you still write for Dave Lizewski? I loved what you've written for him so far!

FUCK yes I do. Listen there's a lot I could say about Dave, but one thing that is NEVER addressed is how deeply rooted and repressed his mommy issues are. I'm sorry, your mom dies in front of you and you're just... not affected by it??? bullshit!!!!!!! Dave CRAVES a soft gentle touch, a divine feminine aura. Even if you're not a girl, if you just take care of him gently and look at him with a soft fondness he will fold SO fast. and yes having a nice rack (while not necessary) will help with this a lot. and by a nice rack I mean literally just having anything on your chest. flat tits, huge tits, lopsided tits, fake tits, real tits, literally ANYTHING. even if your tits are practically nonexistent he WILL still be trying to grope and suck on them. and he WILL succeed. nothing in this world can stop this boy from drooling over you.

after a particularly long night full of stopping some muggers, making sure the town drunk doesn't fight anyone, and helping some college girls get home safe, he shows up at your place, a little bumped and bruised but not majorly injured. you greet him with this soft, understanding smile and bring him up to your bathroom. It's all clean and soapy and smells like you, and he immediately starts to relax. you help him take off his suit and he tries not to get hard from the feeling of your warm hands getting him out of his suit and exposing his skin to the cool air. you start inspecting him to see how bad he's hurt - because of all his nerve damage he doesn't always notice how bad his injuries are.

you smooth his hair and praise him, listen to him talk about his night patrolling the neighborhood. worry flashes across across your face as you see the scratches all over his face and arms.

"Oh, uh, Mrs. Landsberg's cat got stuck..." He trails off sheepishly while you smile and put disinfectant on his nicks and scrapes.

"Look at you, helping little old ladies and rescuing cats from trees." you coo playfully.

"Well, she got stuck in the attic crawl space, but..." he shrugs with another blush, feeling all proud and sheepish from your praise.

"Close enough."

you press a kiss to his nose.

"now all you need is a job at the daily planet."

Dave was so sore and tired after tonight that he felt like he'd need days to recover. but after 10 minutes with you, you already have him laughing and feeling like himself again. Dave doesn't know what he did to luck out and have you in his life, but he thinks about you all the time. If he's not physically with you (or texting you or calling you or snapping you or lurking on your social media accounts or reading through your old texts or looking through the folder of pictures and videos he has of you saved in his phone or-) he's thinking about you all the time. he even dreams about you every night. no matter how much time he spends with you, he always wants more. Dave is definitely in the sex isn't enough I need to crawl inside your skin club.

[ghost-proofbaby]

OH SAY LESS 14 WITH ASTARION PLEASE

so this is my first time publicly writing and posting astarion, so please be gentle. higher word count solely because i felt the need to add lore because, ya know, first time writing him! also, i changed the line just a tiny bit to better fit the character and scene. ALSO, uh... this is a little fade to black. i'm sorry. it just got too long.

14. "Oh, you're hard to please."

warnings: foreplay, sorta fade to black smut (it's there if you squint your eyes), an ungodly amount of pet names, mentions of past sexual abuse and healing from it, technical game spoilers, not edited, 18+ so minors do not interact

pairings: astarion x afab!reader (no pronouns used)

wc: 4.4k+

join the smutty party! send me one of these smut dialogue prompts with a character

How long had it been since Astarion had actually enjoyed sex? Craved it, even? 

If he recalls correctly, it had to have started to become tainted well over a century ago. Somewhere between the first and the third victim, when he’d realized how every single beautiful soul he had entrapped were simply being lured to their own death. And then, the sour taste left in his mouth only became more pungent the longer it went on, the more he came to the realization of just how used he felt. His body was no longer his own – it technically hadn’t been his from the very second he’d emerged from his own grave, and Cazador had been waiting for him – and everything about the act became an old rehearsed dance that he’d grit his teeth through. A chore, something to make his stomach churn, something to regret. A means to an end. 

Plainly put, it had been a while. 

But then you happened. You, who hadn’t blinked an eye when the first time you met him, he’d literally threatened you with a gods damned blade to your throat. You, who had repeatedly trusted him, even when it had been an objectively stupid thing to do. You, who had always offered him the utmost patience and genuine understanding, to the point in which if he thought about it too hard, he’d probably cry. You, who had led your group of misfits with brain worms right into victory, with plenty of personal demons defeated along the way. 

Personal demons including Cazador. 

Maybe that’s when things changed for Astarion. He’d already fallen for you before your group had reached Baldur’s Gate, he’d already gotten to know your body intimately before ever laying eyes on that ridiculously oversized brain you somehow made look easy to defeat. But that had been different, hadn’t it? He hadn’t really wanted to do that (not meant as an offense to you – certainly not after all was said and done), but had thought he needed to. To gain your trust, to gain your protection. And in the end, it turned out he never needed to do such a thing. You’d never said it outloud, probably at risk of making him feel even more regret after you’d learned all his secrets and darkest corners, but he knew. 

And knowing that you didn’t view him as something purely sexual, as a means to an end, as an item to use – well, it had the opposite effect of his request to no longer be viewed in that light. 

“What are you doing?” he says as he quickly looks up from his current book he’d been pursuing the moment you’d entered the room. He hardly cared for the words on the page – he just needed a way to pass the hours until you were available again. 

It was a hard habit to kick. Being so codependent on you, even with the end of the world resolved and the gift of safety being handed over to him on a silver platter. 

“We received mail,” you’re grinning wickedly as you hold up an embellished envelope, delicate fingers pinching the parchment as if it were the greatest gift to ever exist. He’d argue the real gift at hand was the last three months – time spent with you, in a place he can call home. But nothing could impede on your good mood as you throw yourself down on the mattress beside him, “From Withers, of all people!” 

His brows shoot up for just a moment before his face twists up with something akin to distrust, “Withers? What in the Hells does that sack of dust and bones wan-” 

“A reunion,” you cut him off, the look on your face warning enough against his attempt at an insult. “He’s reaching out to all of us to bring us together for a celebration, to check in on everyone, let us see each other again. Apparently, we were the easiest of the bunch to find.”

Astarion quickly lets out a tut as he snaps the book shut and discards it on the bedside table closest to him, “Well, we certainly need to fix that. Soon enough all of those little shits are going to end up on our doorstep, preaching about the power of friendship and how they want to check in on us.” 

You snort at that, laying flat on your back with your hair wildly spread out in a makeshift halo behind you. The sight causes something to stir within him, his gut twisting as he watches the way your knees knock together before slowly falling apart, your legs settling down as flat as the rest of your body.

He hadn’t taken you since that night at his grave. Before the epic final battle, before the two of you had made the decision to settle down somewhere for some well-earned peace and quiet. 

The moonlight dances past the open curtains, and his breath catches in his throat at the way the blue shadows dance across your skin. It almost reminds him of the first time he’d seen you fight. It hadn’t just been the blood splattered across your cheeks that had really gotten the better of his curiosity (even if that’s what he had told you when you asked), it had been the sunlight. Those rays of gold that had mingled with your own aura of warmth after you had helped the tieflings for the first time. 

You put the sun to shame, truly. And he missed it – Gods, did he miss it – but he was content to bask in the peace of night for a few months more before he finally cut you loose from the leash to begin your next phase of adventures to find him a cure. You had promised him you would, had already dedicated plenty of free time to research, and all you really needed was his word to begin. 

He’s selfish. The two of you can find a way for him to walk in the sun once more another day; all he wants right now is to bury himself in your warmth, to slot his body between your thighs, to hear every breathy gasp and the way you’d practically sing his name-

“Star?” you’re looking up at him from an awkward angle, eyes owlish and chin tilted painfully far back as you clearly await an answer to a question he’d been too lost in a daydream to overhear, “Did you hear me?” 

He clears his throat and adjusts the pillows behind his back, keeping him propped up as he admires you, “Of course I did, darling.” 

“Then what did I just say?”

“Something about how we’re absolutely not going to this reunion, yes?” 

Your smile is nothing but patient as you flip onto your stomach. He watches the way your shorts ride up your thighs, how the top of the soft fabric bunches at your waist. His fingers practically twitch with the need to weasel their way under it, to press his cold fingertips into warm flesh and hear you preen. 

Whenever you’re ready, you had whispered to him one night shortly after saving the world. Just tell me when, and I’m yours. 

He was ready. Insatiably ready, really. 

“Very funny. I said we should go, though. It’d be nice to see everyone again, wouldn’t it? All our friends?” 

You’re still talking about this damned reunion. Astarion has half the mind to figure out a way to summon the insufferable skeleton right here, right now, and drive a dagger into his bones until he’s truly nothing but dust. Solely for the distraction. 

“Your friends, my dear,” he corrects gently, “We both know they’re only overly fond of one of us in this relationship, and it certainly isn’t the one that they repeatedly threatened to stake.” 

The furrow of your brows is impossibly cute – he knows that look of determination. It’s the same one you wore when he mentioned it was likely that the two of you would never find a cure to his condition. 

“Our friends,” you insist, “Karlach adores you, Star. And Wyll has always been proud of you, whether he told you as much or not.”

“And what of Gale?” 

Your lips twitch at that, “Gale… certainly wouldn’t stake you on sight.”

“Ah, yes,” he flourishes, trying to keep his eyes from wandering anywhere but where your hands press into your cheeks as you prop your face up to speak to him, “Not staking me. The ultimate sign of kinship.” 

Focusing is a losing battle when you roll your eyes, and he finds his mind overtaken with insatiable lust again. Imaginative ways that he could have your eyes rolling for him under different circumstances. 

“You’re not getting out of this. They are your friends just as well as mine – so argue all you want, but we’re going to the reunion.” 

“Are you sure there’s no other way I might be able to…” he pauses with intent, finally lifting one of his docile hands to your cheek, letting his finger graze the skin with a feather light touch before it travels back into the mess of your hair, “Persuade you otherwise?” 

You almost fall for it, too. Your eyes flutter shut, your head tilts into his touch as if you were starved for the connection. But even with the lack of sexual intimacy, you both know there hasn’t been a day that has gone by in the last three months where Astarion hasn’t found a way to get his hands on you.

Holding your own, resting his cheek on your shoulder, spinning you like a child in the kitchen – he had quite the sudden arsenal of romantic gestures that didn’t involve old wounds. It had been awkward here and there, some of them landing and some of them leaving you both looking like fools, but he was trying.

Almost as hard as he was currently trying to not jump your bones. 

When you recognize the innuendo for what it is, however, you harden immediately. Your shoulders set, a frown settles, and your eyes open with set determination he knows he can’t falter without speaking plainly to you. 

“No.”

“No?”

You’re quick to lift yourself up onto your knees, putting distance between yourself and his hands, “The days of weaponizing sex are over. I don’t even want to joke about that.” 

And, oh, he’s finding himself in quite the mood tonight, because as soon as you’re retracting, he’s following. As you settle on the haunches of your calves, he’s lifting up from his reclined position, leaning forward so that his face is breaths away from yours. 

“I mean it,” you warn, narrowing your eyes and holding up a finger in that small space between you two. 

He tests his luck, wasting no time in snapping his fangs just millimeters from your skin. You both know he wouldn’t actually bite you, but it still humors him to see the way you whip your hand out of his reach. 

“Were you not the one who insisted that we ask before we bite?” you snap, and his smile only worsens. Like a cheshire cat, like a child never scorned by the world – he’s radiant and basking in the moment. 

He lets out a small hmph before saying, “You’re no fun, my dear. Come on – just play with me for a moment, won’t you?” 

Your face softens at his teasing tone, and he can see the way he’s withering away your defenses one by one. There was once a time where he’d done it with malicious intent, but this time around, it’s with nothing but good intentions. 

If you asked him, he’d go as far as to swear it on his own grave. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize as if you’d done something wrong, and it makes more than half of his own playfulness drain from his face in absolute displeasure. Before he can so much as open his mouth to scold you about unnecessary apologies, you’re continuing on, “I just… After everything we’ve been through, it’s not something I find particularly joyous to joke about.”

What a rare thing, to have found someone to bare your soul and all your burdens to, and watch them offer to help you shoulder the weight without second thought or regret. 

He’s never met someone like you in all his years, and he might never again. 

“And if I told you I wasn’t joking?” he asks slowly, carefully, trying to choose each word with the utmost care, “I’m not weaponizing – I’m offering.” 

Whenever you’re ready. Just tell me when, and I’m yours.

He was ready. Very, desperately, sorely ready. 

The topic of the reunion is all but forgotten as you process his words, nose twitching as you decipher all that’s he laying out before you. “I want more than an offer.” 

“Excuse me?” 

He can’t help the small laugh that leaves him as he sits up properly, leaning into your space fully now with one hand pressing into the mattress just beside one of your thighs. He can feel the heat radiating from you, smell your blood rushing to your head as you try to be sensible. It’s a pitiful excuse for an internal war; all he has to do is close that conveniently small distance between your lips with his own, and you’ll have lost all sense of logic. 

“You’re…” you trail off, searching his eyes as if he holds the answer you’re currently looking for, “You’re sacred to me, Astarion. You must know that. And it will take much more than some joking offer to convince me to have sex with you when I know-”

“I’m not joking,” he’s nearly whining, letting his forehead fall forward to press to yours, “Gods, I am not joking about this. Cross my heart and hope to die again.” 

If he has to beg, he will. 

He’s spent two hundred years in an insufferable position of pure misery, pure shit, and the realization that he’s finally free has everything clicking into place. Proof of the change exists solely in the fact that he could have resorted to his tired old seduction routine from his life before to get what he wanted, but instead, he’s trying to just communicate. 

It was a novel moment. 

But he could appreciate it later, when the crotch of his pants wasn’t becoming increasingly uncomfortably tight and he wasn’t watching you closer than prey. When his stomach wasn’t so tight with desire and anticipation, just waiting for your word to indulge. 

“Do I need to beg?” he sighs, his lips brushing against yours ever so slightly from proximity. He catches the shiver that runs up your spine. “We both know I’m not particularly fond of it, but if I have to get on my knees for you- well, actually, that’s the entire point of what I’m asking.” 

You laugh at that, and his gut twists again, because it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever had the opportunity to hear. Something more breath than any vocality, something sharp and spelling out the loss of words on your tongue. 

Your silence is enough for him to push it all a step further. Forehead still leaning against yours, he properly presses his lips to yours this time, slotting them between softer than a feather’s caress. Finding home as he can physically feel himself steal your breath away. His fangs just barely nip your bottom lip, unintentionally but still eliciting a delicious reaction of a gasp that makes him graze you a second time just to feel the way you’re leaning into him more, becoming absolute putty in his hands. Pliable for his taking, and Gods, he wants to take you. 

Something snaps. 

All hesitation has vanished as he grabs at your hips quickly, making use of the way your brain has gone blank from a simple kiss in order to lay you out below him. He moves you with ease, incredible speed in slotting himself between your legs before he’s caging your entire body in with his own. The squeak that leaves your lips from his manhandling affects him even more than your gasps had, a low growl shaking his chest as he kisses you deeper. Tasting, begging, searching – he wants this, but he needs to know that you want this just as badly. 

Your hands find purchase on each of his shoulders, squeezing tightly as if needing something to tether yourself to. You pull him in closer for a second, eagerly returning the kiss, almost feverish in the way you drink him in. But the next, you’re pushing him away, a game of want and sensibility still clouding your judgment impossibly. 

You always were stubborn about things like morals. And, well, it wasn’t very moral to just jump right into sex with your traumatized boyfriend who had explicitly said not to view him in terms of sex, was it? 

It was Astarion’s own damn fault. 

He could have just acted like a normal person, initiated a normal conversation in which he renegotiated his boundaries. But you’ve been on his mind all day, and he’s long since proven since the very day that you met him that he has little to none impulse control. 

“My, my,” he murmurs, pulling back from the kiss, eyes wild, looking at you with even more hunger than he had the first night you’d given him a taste of your blood in camp, “You’re just an impossible thing to please, aren’t you? Do you want me near, do you want me far? Tell me, my love, what do you want?” 

He settles all his weight onto one of his forearms as the other slowly brings his hand to your side, caressing over the soft fabric of your shirt – a shirt he’s quickly realizing is actually his own. He recognizes those flowy sleeves, that lacing across the chest, the off-white tone that had seen better days. Given all its wear and tear, he’s almost sure that it’s one of his shirts he had grown most comfortable wearing during the nights of your adventures against the Netherbrain. 

It’s cute. A sort of domesticity that he can ponder over later, when your legs aren’t hanging on his hips and your breaths aren’t coming out staccato as he hovers just out of reach from you. 

“I want whatever you want,” you whisper. Your eyes flutter open, looking at him with pupils so dilated they could swallow him whole. 

“Let me be very clear, then,” he hums, cold fingers creeping their way to the hem of the shirt, slipping beneath with practiced ease to find the smooth skin of your hips below. They dance and skitter up, up, up until he’s brushing against your ribs, “I want you. I want that warm cunt of yours, I want to feel every gasp and breath as your walls squeeze around me. I want to fuck you until you’re unable to walk on your own two legs, until you can only remember my name. I want to watch you come undone, my dear, and for it to be my own undoing.”

Your lips quiver in anticipation, and he feels your thighs tighten their hold on him, “Such pretty words. And… and no ulterior motives? No sense of obligation?” 

“None at all,” he smiles, a predator closing in on his prey, “I’m choosing this. If you want it, if you’ll have me, then I’m ready, pet.” 

Pet. The nickname rolls off his tongue, and he can imagine your walls fluttering just as your eyes do. 

Your hands lift from his shoulders to bury in his hair instead. One cradling the back of his head, the other resting on the nape of his neck as you toy with a snowy curl. It unfurls him further, has him humming lowly as he dips down to recapture your lips and bring you into him even closer. Closer. He needs all and any space between the two of you to become nonexistent. To feel every inch of your skin pressed to his, to allow you to physically curl up into his chest just as you had his mind all those moons ago, to make a home in a room with your name on it already somewhere between his third and fourth rib. 

“Do you really have to doubt if I’ll have you, my love?” you mutter against his mouth, smile breaking the kiss momentarily before he’s back with a vengeance. You don’t care – you’re apparently in a chatty mood, dodging his kiss to get your last words in, “There’s been a space in my heart for you since the moment I first met yo-”

“Yes, yes, very romantic,” he interrupts urgently, suddenly tugging your shirt up, “But, truth be told, love? I’m hoping there’s a space between your legs for me at this moment.” 

You snort, eyes pinched shut as you attempt to shake your head at the ridiculousness of the words that just left his mouth. At any other moment, you might point out how the outrageous comment is just another defense mechanism, veering him away from having to acknowledge the gentle sentiment behind your own words, but now’s not the time. When you open your mouth, probably to say something exactly along those lines, he rolls his hips down against yours, pinning your lower half deep into the mattress. You feel just how hard he is through his trousers – it’s impossible to miss, but he’s deliberating being sure that you feel it as he lets the tips of his fangs sink into your bottom lip. 

The resolve of fighting against his wishes is quickly dissolved. One thing after another, and Astarion has you bare beneath him before any other distractions or annoying conversation can send the two of you further off track. Your, his, shirt is tossed to one side of the room. Your parents fly to the other side of the bed. Only once he has the entire spanse of your body nude and vulnerable to him does he take the time to pause, to look down at you with absolute adoration. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful.” 

He’s said those words to you a million times before. Consistently greeting you with them, muttering them in the dead of night, whispering them as he kisses you awake. But they never lose their weight. And certainly not now, as he’s looking down at you like it’s the first time he’s ever seen that freckle on your chest or the curve of your stomach barren before him. 

“Please, if you’re comfortable with it…” you start, voice laced with desperation, but he shakes his head. 

He’s full of interruptions tonight, “Consider me comfortable with anything unless stated otherwise for this moment, my sweet.” 

“Take off your clothes, Astarion.”

His giddy smile should annoy you. That smug satisfaction in finally, finally getting his way as he undresses himself at almost twice the speed that he had stripped you. And yet he knows you’re enjoying yourself just as much as he is. You’re reveling in drinking in the bare caricatures of his body, every inch and every curve exposed to you just as you are to him. And when his cool skin meets yours again, his body sinking right into that space between your thighs that you’ve granted to him, you let out a short gasp that reminds him that you want this just as badly as he does.

You’ve waited just as long as he has. 

It almost mirrors that night on his grave. The slow descent of his body against yours, the way he slides a leg up to spread your own even further for him as he crawls his way back home to your lips. Unlike that night, however, he isn’t taking quite as much care, his movements far faster and far more needy. 

He’s been waiting long enough. He’s denied himself long enough. 

It really doesn’t matter when the last time he had enjoyed sex had been, because all that he cares about is that here and now, in this moment with you, there’s not a trace of imperfections to taint his enjoyment. 

Cazador is dead. The brain has long since been defeated. You are both safe. 

As he sinks into your heat, the only thing on his mind is that contentment, overwhelmed with the feel and smell of just you. 

He’ll never be a slave again. Never be viewed as something to simply be used and disregarded again, if you have any say. And one day, some day, he’ll even feel the warmth of the sun again. Thanks to you.

But until that day, the warmth of your love is enough.

When you sigh his name out so delicately, jaw all but unhinging itself in bliss as your back arches in reaction to his touches, he knows he’s made the right choice. 

And he supposes he lied, in a way, earlier. 

You’re not that hard to please – not when it comes to him, at least. Not when it’s his hands trailing along your skin, not when it’s his lips and fangs nipping at every opportunity. And certainly not when it’s his name that’s being chanted like a prayer from your lips in time with every thrust, every stroke, every single movement with the sole purpose of making both of you come undone. 

Astarion no longer questions when the last time he enjoyed sex was in the aftermath of it all. With you, pressed into his side, sweaty forehead nuzzling his chest, the only thing he cares about is the next time he’ll be able to do so. 

“We’re still going to that reunion,” you murmur, half asleep, fading away from him quickly to fall into blissful unconsciousness. 

He almost doesn’t breathe in fear of disturbing you. He’ll waste the night away, laying here, still as a statue for your comfort. 

It’s no surprise when he refuses to put up a fight, instead his hand simply drawing soft stars across the back of your bare shoulder blades as he sighs, “Yes, dear. We will. Now sleep.”

“I love you.” 

The words tumble from your lips so carelessly, so easily and without hesitation, he nearly shakes you awake to hear them once more. Again and again, he needs to hear them, to be reassured that you feel for him as ardently as he does you. 

But he has the rest of your forever to hear them. So he lets you sleep, sending you away with a simple press of his lips to your temples as your breathing evens.

“And I love you, my dearest sun.”

[christronomy]

the devil is faceless // bang chan

cw: horror/doppelgänger au, fem reader, chris is a killer (for a good cause lol), body horror (mutilation), brief mention of murder/death, gore, and sex (not very detailed tho), slight angst.

you think about it as you lie on the cold floor. you're much closer to your dead lover than you thought you ever would be. it's almost as if you're holding his body in your arms again, the feeling of deadweight heavy on your chest, tears trailing down the sides of your head a reminder how he once was. warm.

christopher always ran warmer than usual, but it was a perfect contrast to how cold you often were. his arms were the only place you felt safest in, and he preferred it that way. "the world isn't what you think it is, pretty girl," he'd once said. he would always keep you safe from the monsters, the people who posed any sort of threat. he always got rid of the problem. that was, until it came back to haunt him.

your eyes always gave you away, because you were too innocent. you still couldn't understand how things functioned ever since they changed. anyone here could be an imposter or a copy of someone else, or even worse, tortured by their own perception of themself in a way that made them extremely hostile. you didn't see things the way he did, which was the complete opposite. chris always saw it, ever since you were kids—the imperfections in their facial expressions, wide, unnatural smiles, strange voices that he always heard in the back of his mind, in his nightmares.

when he got older he figured that disposing of these vile creatures would help silence those voices, but he was wrong. at first, it was fulfilling, but then it turned into a chore, and it was something not many people approved of. he was taking justice into his own hands and they didn't like it. how could someone kill so carelessly? how would you know they're really those monsters if you can't look at their face?

but chris always knew the difference. it was like they teased him, followed him around. they were unmistakably identifiable compared to real humans, and there were many more of those things than people thought, they just didn't realize how many more. so they called him paranoid, they never believed him when he described the truth, spreading lies and making it seem like he was simply telling stories, grueling fairytales just to scare others.

you always believed him, never doubted him for a second, especially when you saw it happen for the first time, the transformation that leaves barely an idea of what used to be-twisting limbs, the sound of flesh tearing and contorting, almost as if the body was just liquid in a mold, taking an entirely different shape. "don't look," he'd said, quickly pulling you into his arms and covering your eyes and ears with his coat, and in a matter of seconds, the walls were covered in blood. you didn't want to look away. she was your best friend, and you didn't want to forget what she looked like, but no matter how much you tried, you could only see what she had become, every time you closed your eyes.

what stuck with you the most was the voice, the sound of her screams almost like laughter, mixing with sobs, silent cries for help being overshadowed by the evil taking over her body, her life, her soul. only then was when you truly understood chris, why he was always sure to be on high alert at all times, why he struggled to sleep every night, why he needed the nicotine to soothe his body even if it was only a temporary fix. you truly understood what he said when he’d described it. the way it sounded to you was exactly what he'd said before.

"it sounds like a demon's laugh. twisted, sadistic, like it's enjoying itself. like the devil himself is whispering in your ear."

and he was right, the devil himself whispered in your ear that night, and never shut up, even to this day. the whisper became more like an obnoxiously loud, taunting voice the day that chris died. he died telling you to look away, with a smile on his face, because you knew that whenever he said those two simple words, the threat would be taken care of. but this time, it wasn't, and this time, you didn’t look away as the bullet went straight through his head, his blood spraying onto your face, watching him fall to his side with a sickening thud. snipers had somehow found and ambushed you as you were making your way back home, and he knew you were surrounded, he had sharp eyes. anyone else wouldn't be able to see where they were hiding, but he spotted every single one immediately, the lasers aiming straight for his head, and he knew he'd be dead if he made another move.

but they didn't spare him even when he stood still, and they didn't lift a finger when you held him in your arms in the middle of the abandoned road, your voice giving out from the way you couldn't contain your agonized screams. since then, he couldn't be there to protect you, to tell you to look away and that it would all be over soon, so you were lost. and that's how you ended up here, now, on the floor, limbs painfully stretched, you were pretty sure some of your bones had even snapped in the process, and you could see your blood pooling by your body through the corner of your eye. all because you'd encountered one of them. you narrowly escaped the attack somehow, but the effect of it still got to your body, painfully contorting it in an attempt to take control.

if chris were here, he would have eliminated the thing immediately, you thought. you thought about the way he always wore a large, long coat to hide his weapons, and to bury your face in it whenever you encountered a threat. it was the same way he would pull you into him when you were alone in the confines of your room, in your shared bed. you always laid your head down on his chest that way so you could fall asleep to his heartbeat, because it was the only way you could sleep. it was the same way he held you close when you got too tired from working your hips, the room feeling hot, stars obscuring your vision as soon as he whispered a soft, “i got you, baby,” as he took control, filling your mind with bliss.

if chris were here you wouldn't feel so cold like you do right now, you wouldn't be in so much pain, struggling to breathe, watching and feeling the life slowly drain out of you. but as much as it hurts, you’re starting to feel okay with it, because now you won't have to deal with this, whatever it is. because chris was right, this world wasn't what you thought it was. but he would've been proud of you for making it this far. now you're so much closer to your lover than ever, so instead of focusing on the blood by your ears, you look away one last time as your vision blurs, letting out a long breath. the cold deadweight on your chest suddenly feels like a warm, familiar embrace, the subtle smell of nicotine wafting through your nose, the once torturous whispers turning into soft-spoken reassurances, strong arms cradling your soul gently as you sink into the depths of this inevitable fate.

[astracora]

I get the point of people going 'banners aren't canon/have nothing to do with the lore' but... I feel like people are using lore incorrectly. Whatever your feelings about cat boys or catch22 boys, you can't just point blank go banners have no bearing on character that's a crazy statement 😭

There is some wild hypocrisy just specifically for this banner with people who were cool af with cat boys (which was crazy like sorry how did tiny cats be so op that they could TURN OFF someone's evol and suppress it and make them grow cat features and personality traits) now going this is too AU. (Kinda the point of an AU you know? The question is what would you have to do to make a character act like this.)

But I've also seen like? Sylus' Within Reach card named as having nothing to do with the story too ('you're just measuring his ass'). Like. Are you only watching kindleds and not playing dates? His entire card is about MC worrying about his health, realising they care more than they want to, and more suggestions that Sylus 1. Truly understands them that he can read those feelings on their face or 2. Is able to see into their dreams.

That's? Character building 😭 which by definition is part of their lore.

Even cat boys showed that? Zayne being more affectionate because he didn't have to worry about his EVOL going out of control. Raffy being more honest about his desperation for MC because it was harder to hide? Xavier showing more of his anxieties over not having MC in his life. Sylus showing he does everything he does FOR MC and no one else.

You're free not to like the new banner I'm not debating that, if it's not up ur alley that's super chill and very fair, unless ur out there being weird on main to people who are excited for it, but like. Saying it will have NOTHING to offer about the characters is a batshit statement that's fully untrue.

There's a very real thing to be said that no person is fully perfect and everyone is capable of being broken down. One of Zayne's main character beats is how EVER/Xander Sciences wants him for their experiments, and the question the game presents is 'what would we have to do to make this man abandon his morals'. You're about to potentially see that EXACT scenario in catch 22.

I'm not saying 'go pull' either. I'm saying, when it comes out if you're curious watch the date on YouTube, and see what character information the story offers you because seeing all the messy complex sides of a character is absolutely fascinating.

Whether they're even going to be that dark is up for debate, but I'm fully willing to bet that they'll have something to share about the characters themselves, that adds to the little complex web of their lore and build.

[karinamariee]

rafe x gf reader where she hangs out with Sarah and the pogues but doesn't tell rafe bc he will obv be mad and tell her no. Then he finds out and shows up to where they are and tries to fight jj and ends up bringing reader back w him and is really upset she lied bc all he ever wants is to keep her safe and he can't if he doesnt know where she is + he doesn't trust the pogues and she feels so bad for lying to him

listen.

pairing: toxic!rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: rafe was sick and tired of y/n lying about where she was when he knew exactly.

warnings: none

authors note: guys, send in more requests!!🫶🏽 also, i decided to switch it up a little bit.

—————————————————————————

“you’re dating a fucking asshole,” said jj, “you know that right?”

sarah nodded. “like, why rafe of all people?”

why rafe of all people was an extremely good question. maybe because he fucked you good and loved you well.

“i love him,” you say.

jj was about to say something, but john b stopped him. “that’s a fair argument is what jj was going to say, y/n.” but you knew that jj had the hardest time trusting you. it makes sense. you broke up with jj to be with rafe, which jj is still confused and angry about.

“of fucking course it is,” said jj. “she’s the kooks princess. no one can touch her, say the truth to her, but here’s the truth, y/n, you’re just as fake as the next kook in line.”

“ahh jj!” sarah exclaimed. “i would much rather have the kooks princess than rafe cameron be here. i love you, y/n.”

you smiled and nodded. jj was right. you had broken his heart, you had loved him and then shoved it in his face when it was all over. you deserve whatever you got from jj which you’re sure there would be a lot more in the future.

“oh shit,” said pope, “speak of the devil.”

you turned around to see rafe marching toward you. your heart started racing a million miles per hour, not sure if you were ready for this confrontation or not. you knew you were fucked, you just didn’t wanna admit it yet.

“so here you are!” rafe yelled, making his way closer to you. he didn’t even look at anyone but you.

“i can’t be here,” said sarah. “no, no, no.”

“why you lying to me?” rafe asked once he made his way over to you. he grabbed your face. “answer the fucking question.”

“hey, hey,” said jj, “don’t fucking touch her.”

“she’s a woman, man,” said cleo.

rafe looked at jj, ignoring cleo. “what the fuck. shut the fuck up because i knock your fucking teeth out of your mouth.”

jj smirked. “please rafe, you wanna fucking go?”

“hey! hey, listen!” yelled pope. “if you wanna fuck each other up, be my guest, but just remember y/n is waiting to leave.”

rafe looked at you with something in his eyes. you didn’t know if it was hurt or regret, but something was in them that you’ve never seen before.

“come on, baby,” you said. “let go home.”

—————————————————————————

“i don’t trust either one of them, babe,” said rafe, holding your cheeks tightly. “i just want an honest girlfriend who wouldn’t lie to me.”

he let you go. “please, rafe, i’m fucking honestly with you.”

he laughed. you had to admit, you weee scared of him. the way he just would punch a wall when he was mad, or punched you when he blacked out. either way was scary, but you didn’t want another black eye.

you grabbed his arm slowly, wrapping it around your waist, pulling him in for a hug which he let you.

“i just want you, rafe, baby,” you said.

“but you’re still fucking around with those pogues,” he said, “you know i can’t trust them, not even sarah, and you know that hurts me, baby, it hurts so badly.”

you nod. “i promise to stay away from them.”

you promised to stay away from them because the next time you did, you would get worse than a black eye.

[novelconcepts]

It really frees up so much mental real estate when you start thinking of sex as just: a thing people sometimes do. Some people are super into it! Some aren't! It's for fun! It's for intimacy! It's the deepest connection some people will ever feel and totally meaningless to others! It's hot! It's boring! It helps some people sleep! It exists as an exciting construct solely in fantasy for others! What it isn't is some complicated moral ground that needs to be fought against at every turn. It's just A Thing. Which means people who have a lot of it, or none of it, or whatever in between are all worth the same. Which means stories that have a lot of it, or none of it, or whatever in between are worth the same, too. Smut isn't less valuable than "clean" stories. People who have a high "body count" aren't less valuable than those who have never had sex at all. It's just A Thing. Making peace with sex as just A Thing that is natural to consentingly have or not have, want or not want, really is a great adjustment to your brainspace.

[simplyender]

Spots Mumbattan misadventures

[sorrowfulrosebud]

Imagine being werewolf Katsuki’s mate during his heat rut but still having to go to work. Of course you love your mate and want to help him in this vulnerable state, but you also need to buy him stuff, especially if his rut comes out of nowhere.

For 4-7 days every 4 months, Katsuki can’t keep his hands off you; whimpering and growling possessively every time you have to leave his den, licking your neck and of course trying to sink into every wet hole you have. It makes it difficult to bring him his favourite snacks and drinks, and god forbid if you forget his Yakult yoghurts.

So, when god is absent and he runs out of his favourite foods, you have to take… other measures to keep his horniness satiated.

“Sukiiiii, I’m homeeeee!” You call into your home. Your tote bag was spilling at the seams with your mate’s snacks, your wallet crying at his expensive taste. You take your shoes and coat off before meandering upstairs to your shared bedroom.

You toss Katsuki a look as he whimpered at your entry. Currently, your precious pup was hog tied, thick leather cuffs around each limb. His red leather collar was chained to the headboard, though it did look worse for wear due to his struggling.

His teeth bit into the gag in his mouth, drool and slobber around his chin. Desperate whines left his lips, eyes surely rolling to the back of his head under the silken blindfold.

A fuck machine was plowing into his ass like no tomorrow, the small hearts from the flogger you teased him with still pink against his porcelain cheeks. The medium dildo was abusing his prostate as his moans grew louder and louder. A large cum spot soaked the sheets beneath him as the duvet stroked against his already exhausted cock.

Katsuki’s ears twitched as he turned to the door, saddened but desperate whimpers as he tried shaking the blindfold off. You strolled into the room slowly, enhancing your sounds so he understands what’s happening. The bed groaned under the weight of your added body, the hum of the fuck machine a steady rhythm.

“Aww, is my puppy done for now, hmm? Shall we take a break?” You teased, rubbing your fingers on the sensitive patch of skin above his tail. Katsuki sobbed and nodded desperately. Your hand flattened as you stroked his back lovingly.

“But you look so sweet like this, baby! Does this cock feel better than mine? Maybe I should leave you here for the entire week, hmm? I bet you would love that, wouldn’t you my puppyslut?” You murmur into his fluffy ear, kissing the soft down gently.

Katsuki shook his head hurriedly, unintelligible sobs drowned by his broken and muffled moans. The cuffs shuffled loudly as he fought to break free, the headboard starting to crack.

“Okay, pretty pup, I won’t. But you look so cute like this. My handsome mate, can you give me just one more? Then we can take a break,” you ask him softly, stroking his sweaty back. His tail sprung to life as his fingers flexed, desperate to hold you in some way.

You turned off the machine, causing Katsuki to whine at the lack of friction. With a single tap, he turned to his side, allowing you to snuggle up to him. He instantly took refuge in your neck, taking deep breaths to inhale your comforting scent. You unbuckled his gag, allowing him to stretch his aching jaw. Your hands rubbed over the flushed skin in silent apology, before skimming over his flushed abs and reaching his reddening cock.

“Hgnnn, just fuck my cock,” he whined noisily as you shushed him. You eventually found a steady pace and jerked him off, hissing as your mate bit into your neck in pure ecstasy. Carmine eyes were expanded into galaxies of black, too blissed out to care. His body burned with lust, and you were his only saviour.

“Fuck, fuck, shit! Oh fuck, I’m gonna-” he couldn’t finish his sentence as his cum absolutely ruined your jeans, rope after hot rope draining his balls as he chased his high. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, pants consuming his entire chest.

1 day down, a few more to go.

[nerdy-talks]

Obey Me! Nightbringer - Satan Out of Context

You are very welcome, Satan.

I'll make you feel better any time~ ( ¬‿¬ )

[obliviouskara]

tho the most common hc of supercorp is the mighty top™ kara danvers aka supergirl and the queen of all bottoms lena luthor (which okay listen my lena luthor is a to—) we love that for them! its great! 10/10 but there's just something about picturing supergirl the girl of steel alien kyrptonian indestructible superhero at the mercy of lena luthor a mere human which granted she's not just a human, she's a multi million dollar tech CEO philanthropist genuis lena luthor she also happens to be human and to have a superhero begging for her, to have the woman that have bullets bouncing off of her shaking for her touch— whimpering desperate for lena's touch, writhing panting and gasping for air and watching her lose control all because of lena. for kara, who has never been accustomed to pain (at least not on earth with sunlight and all) want to feel pain, the pain that comes from pleasure by lena luthor and no one else. for her to crave lena luthor like she's the sun. if that's not the sexiest thing you can think of then i don't know what else is.