#.writing

[uzurakis]

"babe, could you grab that thing for me?"

your body came to a halt for a brief minute, and you looked up from your phone to find that he was not paying attention either. "what did you just say to me?" you asked, your eyebrows quirking in amusement.

"oh," megumi suddenly realised, "i think i didn't make it clear."

“my phone, could you grab my phone for me?"

your laughter filled the room as you shook your head; you aren't going to let him off the hook easily. "no, what you said before that." your boyfriend was bewildered and innocent. “what?"

“what’s with your face?”

“what about it?”

"megumi,” you chuckled between your words. “you just called me babe for the first time."

the man was unsure whether he had actually stated that out. although he has been thinking about it, he was hesitant to start calling you in an endearing way. "that," he objected, attempting to preserve "i did not." he said, hiding his humiliation and the tingling sensation on his face.

you insisted with a grin. "you did."

"i didn't." you didn’t believe he’s still denying, though his blushing betrayed his words.

"but you're red."

"i'm not!”

"fine, whatever you say." you finally relented, handling him his phone. “here, babe."

"shut it." god, megumi is so frustrated, the man can't even look at you, and he's hiding his face as well. even though the endearment made his heart skip a beat, he doesn't want you to know.

however, you will not pass up this opportunity.

"only under one condition," you said, with a wicked grin you had been attempting to conceal. "you call me that again and i'll stop teasing—“

“no!”

it took every bit of him not to surrender to your quirks. nevertheless, he still took the bait. he understood very well he cannot win against you on this one. megumi took a deep breath before saying..

“babe…"

a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “say it again."

"you said you'll stop!" megumi frowns as your laughter bubbled the room.

“i didn't say when though."

n. brainrotting so so bad about this one. i’m a firm believer megumi just subconsciously says whatever he feels and thinks out of the blue and won’t admit it afterwards. it just comes out very natural from his liking (you always took advantage of these moments lmao) — requests are open!

@uzurakis

[chosocutegf]

Choso x fem!reader

cw: smut

You are currently laying on your stomach, exhausted from the hours spent love making with your boyfriend. Your head is resting on the pillow and you’re hugging it, your eyes closed as you breathe softly. The air smells like sex, but you revel in it, reminding you of the love you share with your boyfriend.

Choso is propped up on a elbow while he looks down at you with a little contented smile gracing his lips, tenderly tracing patterns on your back. You let out a soft sigh at the feeling, relaxing further under his touch. You shift slightly in bed when you feel your boyfriend’s cum slowly oozing out your hole and you clench your thighs together. Your body is sore, but it’s a delicious pain reminding you of what you just finished to do with your lover.

“Baby…,” your boyfriend whines softly, glancing at your legs’ movement before leaning down to place soft kisses on your temple and side of the face. “Mmh,” you answer, eyes still closed and smiling when you feel choso’s lips on your skin.

His hands go lower, caressing the outline of your asscheeks and the back of your thighs. There is a lovestruck look in his half lidded eyes as he looks down at you, and his lips are swollen from all the kisses you shared. “One more time, please?,” He asks softly against your skin, moving his hand to stroke away your hair from your face and look down at you with tender eyes.

You let out a groan mixed with a chuckle and turn your head to the other side, playfully ignoring him. “I’m tired and sore, Cho,” you tell him, your voice muffled against the pillow. It’s followed by a little whine from your boyfriend and you feel him getting closer against your back.

“I know, i know… I’ll be soft, mh? Please, love,” he goes on, pressing soft kisses along your spine, his hand going back to caress the back of your thighs. You let out a soft hum at his words, and he knows that you’re giving him permission.

With that, he grips your hips and moves you on top of him, until you’re laying on his chest and your legs are on each side on his waist. Your face is buried against his neck, and you sigh softly when you feel him caress your thigh with one hand and guide his cock to your hole with the other.

“Mmh, Cho…,” you whine softly against his skin when his cock easily slips inside you, facilitated by both his cum and your juices spilling out of your hole. You arch your back and bite your lower lip as you raise your head from his neck to look down at your pretty boyfriend. He slowly thrust inside of you, dragging his cock against your walls which grips to him tightly.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning up to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss. You moan when you taste his tongue, sucking it gently in your mouth. He keeps fucking his cock up inside of you, while his hands roam lazily across your back.

You pull back to breathe and rest your forehead against his, feeling your lips brushing against each other and your breaths mingling together. “I’m c-close, princess,” he moans after a few moments, squeezing his eyes shut as he brings his hands to grip your asscheeks and thrusting slightly harder into you. Both of you are still overstimulated from the previous session, and you already feel getting closer yourself.

“Fuck… yes, please, Cho,” you whine, reaching between your bodies to rub your clit, wanting to reach your orgasm with your boyfriend. He keeps drilling his cock inside you while moaning against your lips, until he stills and spurts his cum inside you. You come soon after, your walls spasming around him and milking him dry.

“O-ooh, god… fuck, you’re perfect,” he murmurs breathless, still thrusting mindlessly inside you, wanting to keep his cum nestled in your walls. You sigh and relax against him, burying your face against his neck and smiling softly. “I’m tired…,” you murmur against your skin and Choso smiles.

He caresses your back, gently sliding out of you as he leaves soft kisses against your temple. His cum oozes out of your hole in fat globes, and slides down over his soft cock. “I know, I’ve got you, baby,” he murmurs between kisses, holding you tightly against him. In that moment, it’s like the world around you two doesn’t exist and the only important thing is you two, together.

(m.list)

[ma1dmer]

Call of Duty - Vladimir Makarov NSFW

the first time I went on a date with a slavic man my mother turned to me and told me "I didn't immigrate, for you to be going out with Ivan from the village" anyways, here is ivan from the village

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): surprisingly he talks, he'll go on and on about the small things in his day to day, his shitty day, the things he's seen since he last saw you, his plans for the future ,especially if you speak his language, in the darkness of your room pressed against each other naked like that, he almost opens up to you

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): he loves legs, he is a man who can appreciate a good high heel to elongate them, loves fucking you in the tights and heels combo, very particular about them too, he sees you walking around in a skirt with a slit up the thigh and heels and he's pulling you to him, asking if this is his present

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically): in the heat of the moment he's so into the idea of cumming on you, messing up that pretty face of yours or leaving his mark on you in a way, but the second that post nut clarity hits he is absolutely disgusted, quickly throws something for you to clean up with while wiping his hand

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): he is a bit of a masochist, its just one of those things he'll never admit and you better not bring them up at any point in any conversation, but it gets him so riled up when you have the balls to slap him back, he doesn't encourage your behavior outside of very specific moments in the bedroom though, it's rare for him to actually allow it, but you can immediately tell when he's in one of those moods, he'll be lost in the feeling of you wrapped around his cock and suddenly yank your hand to wrap around his throat and growl at you to go on

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?): a man with a lot of experience, mostly anonymous hook ups here and there, so it's tough to get him to get used to an actual serious commited relationship, but it's nice, he won't complain with having someone to always warm his bed or wait for him to come back home

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying): the basics, on your back holding your legs as he fucks you, he'll kiss your forehead or cheek growling filth against your sweaty skin, if you turn away from his kisses he forces you to look at him, gets very petty about that

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.): serious and very very intense

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.): all natural, not particularly hairy but he doesn't do anything to it, he always smells very very strongly of cologne as well

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect): not exactly romantic, if you keep him content and his bed warm, he spoils you outside the bedroom, that's his way of showing he cares and his commitment to you, but he keeps his distance in general, he is a greedy greedy man, he wants your full attention but won't give you his unless he is forced to do so

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon): before he thinks of jacking off he first texts you, if you don't answer his texts, he calls you, asks you if you are busy, not really caring for any answer other than "no, my love, what do you want?" ,he'll be stroking himself through his pants as he asks you to come over or tells you he's about to pop in for a bit, if you happen to be busy he'd rather take a shower and wait for when when he can next see you again

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks): power dynamics, impact play, choking etc

L = Location (favorite places to do the do): he keeps his private business behind closed doors, can't stand the idea of other men ogling you

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): a short skirt, high heels, red lipstick, play a bit of dress up for him, he's a simple man who can still enjoy the simple pleasures of life

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): he does not share, he gets angry with you when another man looks at you, can't even comprehend the thought of bringing someone else in the bedroom, if you even suggest it, you are out, he's gone, and he's fucking every single woman within a 100 mile radius as revenge

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): loves receiving, he is not particularly gentle with it though, he likes things very specifically so he orders you around or straight up moves your head like his personal fleshlight, he also enjoys having a finger or two in him while you give him head, won't talk about it outside the bedroom, but always lifts his hips up or straight up moves your hand to his ass when he fucks your mouth to let you do your thing

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): rough and fast, he'll take his time to prepare you but once he's inside he's almost single mindedly chasing his own pleasure, you have to keep up with him and take matters into your own hand, enjoys the show greatly

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): not a big fan, if he is at work, he is at work, you don't intrude during that time and he hates nothing more than an impatient brat

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.): not really, he likes things very particularly done, its difficult to convince him to do something new, he's not unmovable but if you insist too much he gets stubborn and will keep denying you

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?): it really depends on the context, how long since he last saw you? how pent up is he? after a success or a failure? how generous is he feeling that night? is he spending the night or needs to fly out in a couple of hours? everything moves with his schedule

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): he's quite possessive and very self absorbed, he doesn't like the idea of you using them by yourself when he's gone, but can definitely be convinced with something he can control for you

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): he is pretty straight forward, isn't so much a tease as he has a bit of a mean streak, he enjoys the little jump you make when you think he's gonna spank you ,but instead he just gently cups your ass or thighs, will smirk and ask you if you are scared of him or something, tells you to relax and stop being so tense, even though you have legit reasons to be worried

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): grunts and groans and a lot, a lot of dirty talk, especially if he sees it gets a rise out of you, you'd expect him to be quieter but no not really, he makes these deep guttural grunts as he fucks you and curses up a storm, especially in russian

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character): he is a pussy slapper, he eats it with precision and great enjoyment, but he's so mean about it, will coo at you in russian when you flinch at his touch

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes): average length but very thick with a slightly thinner crown, very hard to adjust to

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?): very average, it's common to send you off with a wave of his hand if he is busy, but when the need arises in him he does expect you to drop everything for him

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): this man is a little spoon, he will never admit it or ask, but every night he turns his back to you and expects you to hug him at some point

[izaanagi]

so you can do size kink and humilliation with Kaiser, please?? :)

— tw. size kink, humiliation feat. Michael Kaiser.

+ mdni. reblogs are always appreciated!

“You think you’re so clever, huh, mein Schnatz?”

Kaiser has you pinned down on the bed, one of his hands, huge, warm, engulfing both of your wrists at once, over your head as he stares you down with that vicious grin of his.

“And what can you even do like this, huh? Look at how much I enjoy wrecking you piece by piece, Liebe?”

Kaiser laughs, and it makes your teeth grit. He looms over you, and his shoulders are larger than life, but you’re more concerned about his tongue rather than anything else he might even think about doing to you. It might be because he’s one attractive piece of shit, and that his tongue is already slowly swirling over your neck in unknown patterns. There’s no telling what happens next.

His hand squirms into your panties, somehow starting to wet from his ministrations, and once he feels it, there’s a cheshire grin coming onto his lips.

“Geradezu, Liebling? Already this wet for me and I haven’t even done anything worthy? Look at you being such an easy to satisfy girl. Should I simply talk so that you can get on your own then?”

There is a smothered laugh that echoes inside of your chest, and you arch your spine only for Kaiser to retract his hand and stare at the way you’re so delightfully wrapped around his fingers.

He coos. “So pathetic, aren’t you? So eager to get off my fingers, to ride my cock until it splits you in half. What a little slut you are, huh?”

And oh, certainly, that did not make you wetter. Certainly Kaiser teasing tone did not make you want to whine and writhe about, trying to get friction over the pulsating fulcrum of your warmth.

“Glorious. You could come untouched, couldn’t you! Just the sound of my voice gets you so wet. Are you sure you would take my cock? Because that’d have to fit inside of you, but if you’re already spent after this, you’re not very worth fucking, are you?”

You whine, because no. He does need to rail you. And it’s up to discussion.

“Good, would you look at you. So tiny in my hold, and begging for me to use everything I have to make you scream? You really have the true spirit of a whore in you, and you’re not even ashamed, huh.”

“Kaiser…”

“Mh, Liebling?”

And then you shake your head because it’s useless. Kaiser won’t let you go until he’s done with you. He presses a hand on your hips, and lowers himself until he’s a breath away from your lips.

“Do you want me to stop talking and fuck you instead? Is that what you wanted to say?”

You nod, a bit uncertain. That triggers a laugh out of Kaiser, who lets both you hands and hips go as he instead straddles you with his rippling thighs, yet his crotch not fully touching your panties.

“You’re just so obsessed with cumming and yourself, aren’t you, kleine Maus?”

Suddenly, you’re all but flipped on your stomach, legs spread open by Kaiser’s hands, and panties laying on the floor somewhere.

He whispers next to your hole, his tongue almost lashing out, his breath hitting you hot inside. He could break you in half without a thought.

“Shall we take you down a notch?” he asks, and before you can think of answering he’s already head in your pussy, slurping and tonguing and it’s a matter of full flat tongues licks before you’re coming and he’s smiling satisfied at the way you cannot control yourself when he’s around.

[astarions-darling]

An Indecent Proposal Raphael x FemTav/Reader

NSFW mdni tags: inappropriate touching, edging, panty sniffin', raphael is a dirty little pervert, clothed male, naked female summary: you barge into Sharess' Caress ready to give Raphael a piece of your mind. however when you get there, things do not go as planned. read on ao3 via source (this is pretty dialogue heavy because Raphael likes the sound of his own voice. and I don't blame him. this is also silly.)

You don’t bother to knock when you reach the door with the little shiny plaque that says “Devil’s Den” in an ornate script. The door isn’t locked, so it swings open effortlessly when you barge in. The tirade ready to fall from your lips falters as the door closes with a soft click behind you and the hand you had raised in righteous anger pauses before limply falling to your side.

Raphael is lounging in one of the overly gilded armchairs that furnish the den, a glass of something that looks both incredibly alcoholic and expensive dangling from one hand as he regards you with that infuriatingly knowing smile. None of that is why the cat suddenly has your tongue; it's that he has shrugged off the outer layer of his clothing and sits there with his white shirt unbuttoned. The view of his bare chest isn't a particularly novel sight—after all, you share a camp with several people, and some—like a certain large elf—enjoy being one with nature on any occasion they can get. It's more of a shock to see Raphael in such a state of undress; it would be a lie to say you had never considered what lay beneath his neatly tailored clothes. But you would have bet all the gold in Faerûn that Korilla stitched him into them every morning to ensure they stayed perfectly in place. Right now he looked so...deliciously dishevelled.

“My, my," comes his amused voice, "does the squirming tadpole hinder your manners as well, little mouse?” The gentle timbre of his voice washes over you and it's enough to snap your attention to his face. “Or have you always been an uncouth little beast that flounces in without knocking?”

You frown at him, your irritation flaring up again. Your fingers flex—though not in a fit of pique but because your mind has been lost to the thought of running your fingers through the hairs on his tanned chest. That bloody distracting devil. Why did you come here again?

"Did you come all this way to gawk like a gutted fish or did you have something you wished to say?" He raises a brow, tipping his drink towards you. "If you wish to stare, I am, of course, happy to oblige—though that will cost you. This establishment operates on a quid pro quo basis, you know."

Quickly you shake your head, trying to wrangle your thoughts. The devil stands, unfolding himself gracefully from his chair and languidly striding over to a nearby credenza on which an array of bottles and glasses sit. He moves with care, never rushing, and with a deliberate air you can’t help but admire. He makes you feel clumsy.

You watch him carefully pour some rich amber liquid into his glass. It looks like steam rises and hisses above it for a moment before disappearing. The man turns to you, the corner of his lips quirked.

“I’d offer you a drink but I’m certain you’d decline.”

That presumptuous bastard. You’re too irritated to wonder if this is a trick on his part, which is foolish. But he too easily gets under your skin and so you open your mouth to retort.

“I would love a drink,” you say petulantly. You watch him take a sip, hating how you can’t stop yourself from watching his tongue flick out to catch the remnants of it on his lips. He fills up another glass before passing it to you. You watch the amber liquid swirl a moment before throwing it back quickly.

An incredibly stupid thing to do. Whatever it is, the liquor burns your throat and has you spluttering as you bend over coughing. You hear Raphael’s low chuckle of amusement before a glass of water is conjured out of thin air and hovers before you. You snatch it, guzzling it down just like the beast he claims you to be.

“What the bloody hell was that?” you ask, wiping at your mouth with the back of his hand. You catch his nose wrinkling at your lack of decorum. “I think my insides are melting!”

“Cease your melodramatic caterwauling,” he says, casually taking another sip of his own drink. Smug bastard. “It will pass.”

You cough again, feeling the liquor heat up your veins. You blink a few times before the alcohol simmers down, leaving just a pleasant warmth in your belly. Liquor and spirits had been few and far between while on your little adventure—well, anything half decent that is. The swill you’d managed to get was no better than vinegar. You’d stupidly agreed to let Astarion steal some expensive-looking vintage from the wine festival in the Lower City…which had ended up with you spending the night in a cell. Sometimes that elf was the clumsiest person you’d ever met. With that thought, you suddenly remember why you’ve come here.

“I would like for you to stop sending Korilla to spy on me,” you demand as the devil places his drink down so he can re-button the cuffs of his sleeves. 

Did he go deliberately tan on some beach, you wonder? That thought spirals and you’re suddenly picturing lying in the sun on some perfect beach while his skin glitters with salt and sea.

“You should be thanking me.” His lilting words are annoyingly pleasant and they drag you out of your daydream. “After all, if dear Korilla hadn’t been with you a few nights ago you’d probably still be a trapped little mouse in a cell.” He smirks, picking up his drink again and tilting the glass toward you. “Stealing wine, really?”

You decide to keep your mouth shut, something that you mentally congratulate yourself for. It was true that Korilla had been the one to free you from your dank cell. Which was a lucky thing; you didn’t want to hurt people while trying to break free, but it would have come to that if the warlock hadn’t intervened. Raphael watches you carefully, an easy smile on his handsome face, his confident casual air annoying you more than anything else.

“I will withdraw Korilla’s eye from your camp,” he says after a few minutes, his voice thoughtful, “if you give me something in return.”

Of course. You sigh. What did you expect?

“I’m not giving you my soul just for that, Raphael,” you scoff. “If I wouldn’t take one of your deals for the hammer then I certainly won’t trade it just to stop your little dog from following me around.”

“I wouldn’t dream of asking such a thing,” he says smoothly, ignoring your little jab about Korilla. “I desire a mere trifle. Inexpensive!” The devil laughs, a warm pleasing sound that has your lips twitching and skin flushing despite yourself. “I promise you won’t even miss it.”

You frown. What did you have that he would want? Soul coins, perhaps? But surely Raphael couldn’t know you had some in your possession, could he? But also they weren’t inexpensive…not in the least. What in Balduran’s name could he possibly want from you?

“What?” you ask, eyes narrowing.

He tuts. “You really do need to acquire some manners, little mouse. Too much scurrying around with scoundrels and vagabonds.” He sighs, taking a sip of his drink before grabbing a different bottle. You watch him uncork it with ease and pour the dark red liquid into a silver chalice. When he proffers it to you, your hands take it carefully. “Perhaps this may be more pleasing to your sensitive mortal palate.” You watch the candlelight flicker over the wine before you bring it up to smell. Inhaling, you let the notes of cherry and plum assault your senses, the sweet richness of it utterly inviting. When you take a sip, you let it sit on your tongue for a moment to savour it before you close your eyes and swallow. You hadn’t had anything that good in…well, you don’t think you’ve ever had such a decadent wine before.

When you meet Raphael’s gaze again, you shift on your feet. Your fingers grip tighter on the stem, remembering where you are and who you’re talking to.

“It’s nice,” you say, idly swirling the glass. “Well, what do you want then?”

“Your knickers.”

There is no hesitation in his words, he shoots them out quickly and effortlessly—like Astarion would shoot an arrow. You nearly spill the wine in your shock. You’re certain you’ve hallucinated his words or perhaps this is a weird dream. Maybe you are still tucked in your bed at the Elfsong Tavern, dreaming about devils and their insanity.

“You want my what?”

“Your knickers,” Raphael repeats, his easy stare watching you as a multitude of emotions flicker over your face.

So you had heard him correctly. The man doesn’t even act like he’s asked for anything unreasonable. Disbelief has you standing there with your mouth agape. Is he trying to humiliate you? He must be. Was this some sort of strange ploy to get you to agree to his insane deal of the hammer for the crown?

“Why?” The word falls out of your mouth gracelessly, but you aren’t here to cater to Raphael’s want for proper etiquette.

“Why anything?” His voice is low and tinged with amusement as he finishes his drink. He leaves the glass on the credenza to walk closer to you, his hands gesturing as he continues to talk. “Why does the fox chase the hare? Why do little thieves steal wine? For the thrill?” He pauses, head tilting to the side as he regards you. He grins at you. “For pleasure?”

You despise the way he inflects the last word. It sends a rolling shiver down your spine.

“If you’re trying to humiliate me, consider it done.”

He feigns hurt, or you think he does, as he sighs dramatically. You wish he would he would dress himself back in his tunic again, or at least do up his shirt buttons as your eyes can’t help but flick to his exposed throat and chest as his shirt shifts with his movements.

“I would never dare dream of humiliating you, my dear.” Raphael's words sound sincere, but you do not trust him. He’s a devil. It’s like a constant mantra you have to repeat yourself. You are aware that devils can’t lie, but they can certainly bend the truth—just enough—so that it won’t break. “How it claws at my heart to hear you even utter such a thing.”

“I didn’t know you had a heart,” you retort.

“You wound me again, sweetling.” Hand over supposed heart, Raphael smiles. “Indulge me. I do not ask for much.”

It was true, it really wasn’t much. A heavy sigh and then you hear yourself utter a resigned, “Fine.”  It was ludicrous but you couldn’t see any harm in it. And he hadn’t produced a contract to sign—just a gentleman’s agreement, as it were. You were not going to tell any of your companions that you had traded your panties for some freedom. Nine Hells, you hoped you could sneak back into the tavern without them noticing. Perhaps the alcohol has loosened your resolve and has you acting so stupidly but you can’t see anything wrong with the arrangement. With another sigh, you ditch the wine on a nearby table before you turn to leave, but Raphael calls after you.

“And where are you rushing off to?”

“To the tavern,” you say, turning back to face him, “to fetch you your perverse prize.”

“No.” He takes a few steps closer and you catch that hint of spice and musk that wafts from him. “The ones you are wearing, little mouse.”

You suppress a shudder. He’s never been so close to you before, he’s manoeuvred himself into your personal space. The heat and power that radiates from him is intoxicating, more so than any drink upon your tongue, and you’re suddenly reminded of what he is underneath his welcome facade. Yet that doesn’t stop your mouth from opening.

“There are plenty of boutiques around here if you’re that desperate for some new lingerie, Raphael. No need to take mine.” You stick your chin out, matching his stare as you can’t help but add, “As lovely as I think you’d look in pink lace.”

The man’s face doesn’t change, the easy smile remains but you can see the brightness of his eyes—as if you can sense their true infernal nature behind his human disguise. He seems pleased with your reluctance to submit to him easily. Something that you hate to admit makes you pleased in return.

“Pink’s not really my colour,” he muses, fingers tapping his chin thoughtfully, “though I am sure the flush of it against your skin suits.”

Those words do not help you’re suddenly racing heart but you try to ignore his silver tongue. Shifting on your feet, you try to get your mind back in order. Your eyes dart around the room, searching for somewhere to change though there doesn’t appear to be anywhere.

“How I do enjoy watching the little wheels turn in that pretty head of yours.”

You glare at him. “Where can I change then, devil?”

He laughs and then spreads his arms wide. “Right here.” At the look on your face he continues, “You mortals are so easily flustered.” He waves his hand dismissively. “Please, as if I have not seen bare flesh before.”

Later, when you are tucked in your rented bed, you will blame the alcohol. But for now, you simply begin to undo your clothing, starting with removing your boots. He takes a mere step back, those eyes watching you the entire time until you are standing there in nothing but your underclothes. Feeling self-conscious, you feel the flush begin in your chest and work its way up your neck but you refrain from trying to cover yourself up and stand there with your hands by your side as your body tenses. The look on his face hasn’t really changed, but again there is something behind the eyes. A reaching hunger. You wonder what he sees when he looks at you, can devil’s see a soul? Does it call out to him and do his hands itch to pluck it free?

Raphael walks behind you and instinctively you go to turn but his warm hands reach out to hold your shoulders, keeping you where you stand and your toes scrunch at the soft rug beneath to curb some of the tension now beginning to coil in your gut. The lingering touch as he holds you burns into your skin, not due to his infernal nature—though you do sense that he feels rather warm than a regular man—but due to the way your traitorous body reacts to his touch.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“I just want to remember you as you are now, before your flesh is torn asunder by writhing tentacles.” His hands slide down your sides, leaving a trail of gooseflesh and a horrible twinge of arousal. “Before your lovely skin is slippery with mucus and…” he leans in and you feel the tip of his nose behind your ear making you shiver, “you lose that delectable scent.”

You can feel the deep rolling timbre of his voice against your skin. You are too aware of him behind you, your muscles tense as you try to resist the entirely too tempting urge to step back into him. “I am not giving you the crown.” You manage to utter the words though they come out in a whisper. But you are still somewhat proud that you can utter them at all.

“You will.” His fingers touch your neck and you can’t suppress the shudder. “I see your little vampling has taken a bite.”

You twitch as the soft pad of his finger grazes against the puncture wounds on your neck. 

“It helps him fight better.”

His hum in response tickles your neck but you refrain from responding. What would you say? That you like letting the vampire feed on you occasionally? That the searing flash of pain mixing so deliciously with the heady feeling of Astarion drinking from you is unlike any sort of pleasure you’ve experienced before? No. The devil did not need any details.

“I’m sure it does.” Raphael's words float against the shell of your ear and you are momentarily aware that you have a literal devil hovering by your shoulder.

The pad of his finger once more traces the puncture wounds from Astarion’s bite. It feels like a bolt of magic whenever he touches you, though the shock of it is far too pleasant and it goes straight between your legs. Your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth but you manage to unstick it just as he pulls away.

Raphael moves around you until he is once more facing you. You feel flushed, far too aware of how your pulse is thudding in your neck, yet he looks perfectly calm and collected, breathing even and standing there as if you were merely discussing the weather. When he drops to his knees before you, you want to scream but you are too transfixed at the sight of him before you. You can barely think when his hands reach up towards your underwear. You stare dumbfounded, some part of you still blaming it on the alcohol, as you watch his long, elegant fingers trace the pattern of lace by your hip.

“They do look lovely on you, little mouse, a pity.”

You find your tongue again and manage to mutter, “I can undress myself.”

“I’m sure you can,” he purrs. You wish you could cast Silence on him. “But what sort of man would I be if I didn’t lend a helping hand?”

Quickly you look away, face burning in embarrassment as your mind easily imagines how helpful said hand could be. He really shouldn’t be allowed to speak in such a way. Did he cast some kind of spell on you? Did he put something in that drink? Or were you just simply this spellbound by him—perhaps not something to dwell on, you decide. You feel his warm breath against the top of your thigh as his fingers slide up under the band of your knickers at your lack of response. You realise you’re holding your breath as he slides the lace down your legs. You risk a glance down but quickly flick your eyes away—his face is far too close to your bare sex. If he moves his head even slightly you know you will feel his breath on your cunt.

Standing there, you wrestle with the idea of stepping back or just blasting him in the face with a spell. Not that you are very good with spells. But damn does his touch feel nice, his hands are so damn warm and soft as he oh so fucking slowly slides your underwear down. Raphael hasn’t said a word and it’s been at least a minute—that must be a record. The lace finally reaches the ground and he taps your ankle.

Wordlessly you lift a foot and his low response of, “Good girl,” has you desperately fighting to control your stupid dumb animal body’s response. Your fingers itch to steady yourself on his shoulder but you refrain…just. Luckily all your adventuring has improved your athletics and you’re determined not to give the devil the satisfaction of stumbling before him into a wanton heap.

His thumb slips under the fabric still hanging around your other ankle and tugs at it. You’d been staring at the wall straight ahead, eyes fixed on a portrait hanging in some ornate frame. But at the tug, you glance down and see Raphael staring up at you, that smug smirk plastered on his face. Could you get away with kneeing him in the face? Lords above, could you get away with yanking him by the hair (and it was such lovely hair) and between your legs? Both are tempting.

“Little mouse?” His voice is a long lilting drawl and he tugs again at your knickers.

You lift your foot quickly, again saving yourself from tripping over, as he slips it off your foot and stands. You stand there a moment, dazed. Your skin still feels like it is on fire, he must be able to smell your arousal…you can. And you can see the way his nostrils flare as he stands and you watch the devil bring the pink lace up to his face and inhale. Now would be a great time for the Elder Brain to try and shake free of its bonds, you think.

“Did you just—”

With a snap of his fingers, you're suddenly dressed. “Was that so difficult?” “Why didn’t you just do that to take them?” you ask incredulously. “Where would be the fun in that?” He straightens the lapel on your clothing and adds, “Remember, I will still be here when you are ready to admit you need me.”

You grit your teeth. “I don’t need the hammer.”

Those deceptively warm eyes regard you and he smiles again, making your hands itch. You can feel how wet you are between your thighs, and in that moment you realise that is not what he means. But you do not get a chance to speak as with a wave of his hand you find yourself disappearing in a flash of crimson-tinged ash before you are teetering on the steps of Sharess’ Caress in the warm evening air. That smarmy, panty sniffing, bastard. As you begin the walk back to the tavern, you tell yourself your frustration has nothing to do with the way he had touched you. Nothing at all.

When you return to the Elfsong, you attempt to sneak past the group as they eat around a large wooden table. Of course, you can’t get past Shadowheart, the cleric spotting you and instantly dragging you to the table. You slide in, squished between her and Gale as she begins to question where you’ve been.

“Nowhere,” you say with a dismissive shrug, proud of how natural it sounds as you grab a bread roll and try to ignore the lingering throb between your legs. ”I just went for a walk.”

You feel eyes on you and look up into the knowing gaze of Astarion. “A walk, darling?” He leans in across the table and you see his nostrils flare. “An exhilarating one, I take it?” He sniffs again. “Climb any cherry trees on your…walk?”

[umenoyume]

I Want to End my Life!

✧Read on Ao3!!!

Osamu Dazai x Reader

"Dazai smirks and holds his hands up defensively again as if to show innocence "You know I won't! I know better than to mess around with school girls!" Something tells you he's lying."

The regretful meeting between a foolish hormonal idiot and a perverted suicidal man

cw：dubcon/noncon, underage(teenage reader), smut, power imbalance, sh, graphic sh scenes, knifeplay, sadism, masochism, unhealthy/toxic relationship, suicidal thoughts, major character death, immaturity, dazai being the worst person imaginable, dazai is actually repulsive, dazai makes me want to vomit, reader is kunikida's younger sister

[archetype-earth]

Housewife!Mitsuhide who watches over the house while you go to your boring 9-to-5. Housewife!Mitsuhide who vacuums the carpets, makes the bed after you leave, makes sure the kitchen is in perfect shape. He cooks as well, and... honestly sometimes it does turn out bad. But if he sticks to the recipe, it's quite amazing, especially after a hard day. He never really cared for food before, but he makes sure to pick out recipes that have plenty of nutrients that is both healthy and delicious. Housewife!Mitsuhide who, while his background is unknown, is on good terms with everybody in the neighborhood. He's called a charmer by the old ladies, gets along well in their circle. (Probably also knits for you, with help from them.) He's such good friends with the other housewives that they'll occasionally give up the groceries that are sale to him. The local police are extremely wary of him (especially the veteran officers), but they're nice and polite to him all the same, if not on edge. Any yakuza or ne'er-do-wells actively stay away. Housewife!Mitsuhide who busts out that very cliche line of "Dinner, a bath, or me?" (It's him. Let's be real it's always him.) Housewife!Mitsuhide who has already prepared a warm bath to soothe away your daily stress, rose petals and nice scents littering the bathroom. He's also not opposed to getting in with you and washing you himself! What a good husband. Housewife!Mitsuhide who feeds you spoonfuls of dinner, and has you feed him in return. Housewife!Mitsuhide who will carry you into the bathroom and gently set you down. Who gives you the best massage of your life... whose massage turns into a little something more. Housewife!Mitsuhide who works so hard to upkeep your house, couldn't you just mess up him at the end of your day as his reward, pretty please?

[deathisararemercy]

Red String

Death x ghost/soulmate!Reader

Oh. This definitely wasn’t supposed to be happening. For starters, you were dead. Secondly, you could finally see your red string. Lastly, the person in front of you, the person who was supposedly supposed to be your soulmate according to the string, was Death.

A/N: aka Muerte doesn't expect anyone to really love him and needs a friend/partner. This started as an introductory exploration and lengthened into about 1500 words. Not sure if I will continue with more of this, but this was fun and much needed after a long week.

Part 1 | Part 2 |

Oh. This definitely wasn’t supposed to be happening.

For starters, you were dead. Alive one second, staring at your lifeless body the next. You weren’t even really sure how you died. You were in the middle of the forest by a river. There was no one else in sight. You knew you didn't want to die yet. You had more things to do, more sights to see, more life to live. You had these things. Whatever your death was, it got in the way of all of this. But every time you tried to remember your death or examine your physical body for details, your vision started to blur and your head felt like it was ready to split straight open. It was better not to look at your body or try to think too much about the details.

Secondly, you could finally see your red string. When you were alive, it seemed like almost everyone had one. People were finding their strings and living their “happily ever after”s with their universe-designated soulmate. Granted, some people lived perfectly fine lives without red strings, but you always want to be able to find your soulmate and see yours. So you met as many people as you could during your life and tried many new and different things in order to hopefully run into your soulmate. Unfortunately, you didn’t see your red string while you were alive. Now, you were dead and that stupid thread was right in front of you, glowing a brilliant ruby red.

Lastly, the person in front of you, the person who was supposedly your soulmate according to the string, was Death. Given the way the wolf’s sickles fell to the ground with a soft thud, the way his red eyes widened, and the fact he quietly said “mierda” upon seeing you, he was just as surprised as you were about this sudden development.

His red eyes were glowing brighter than the thread, but Death didn’t seem angry, just…stunned. The string caught him speechless. He removed his hood. Shaking his head, he approached you, picking up and effortlessly sheathing his sickles. “Is this some sort of practical joke?” In shock yourself, you remained statuesque as he inhaled deeply, inches from your face. He frowned as he pulled away. “You smell dead.”

As he circled you, looking up and down, you plucked the red thread that connected your chests together. It played a high note over the sound of the nearby water. “Honestly, this is probably as weird as it is to you as it is to me.” Death continued to circle you. “So are you going to ship me off to the spirit world or what? We’re both sort of stuck here until you cut me loose.” You gestured to the silver cord coming from your chest and connecting to that of your dead body.

Death waved a paw dismissively, leaving you to give him a bewildered look. He sat on the ground several feet away from you, back against a tree. “I’ll get around to it,” he said, picking at the grass. “I’d just like to know if you’re seeing what I’m seeing.”

“Yes,” you drawled, “I see the bright red string. We’re soulmates. Apparently.”

He slapped a hand on his forehead, dragging it down slowly as he said something inaudible to your ears. He looked like he had half a mind to get up, walk off, and leave you stranded in the forest. Something must have changed his mind, however, and he got up, walked towards you, and tried to cut the red string with a sickle.

The string really didn’t like that.

It remained uncut, resonating with a low and angry hum, but the both of you winced as a sharp pain shot through your chests. As quickly as it had come, it was gone. Death grunted before rising back to his full height, raising his sickle to strike again.

You raised a hand. “Don’t.” He stopped, staring at your firm look. Cautiously, you walked as close to him as you could without being yanked back by your dead body, and placed a hand on his arm. You lowered it slowly, looking Death in the eye as you spoke. “We can’t break it.”

He blinked before sighing. Death sat back down, allowing you to sit across him. The river continued to flow languidly. “I should have known that Fate was up to something when she got into sewing,” the wolf grumbled. “I just didn’t think she’d wrap me up into this. So, we’re going to have to figure this out then?”

“Yup.” You stared at him. It would be weird in any other context, but you were dead and he was Death, and you didn’t really have much else to stare at other than trees, rocks, and water. It didn’t seem like he wanted to talk much either.

Though his large frame was relaxed and slumped over gently, he wrapped his arms around himself, hood pulled over his head again. Bending your head slightly down, you could see that his red eyes were trained intently on the ground. His white-grey fur seemed dark in the shade of the trees. He was…pretty. That didn’t feel right. What was the right word to describe him at this moment? Contemplative? Brooding? Handsome?

“I’m sorry you died.”

Your gaze was quickly directed towards the tree behind Death. “What do you mean? It’s not your fault. Besides, you see people die all the time-” You realized what you said as soon as the words left your mouth. If you hadn’t died already, you would’ve died of shame. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Death shrugged, getting up. You followed suit. “No, you’re right. No one ever escapes me.” He drew his sickles and approached your dead body. “I should rephrase what I said: I’m sorry your passage to the afterlife has been delayed by this…unprecedented development. I know you spent much of your life looking for your soulmate.” Using the back of one of his sickles, he tapped the red thread connecting you to him. “But I’m not sure if I would make the perfect partner. Not many people would consider Death a ‘happily ever after.’”

He tapped the silver cord that connected you to your dead body. “So, I’ll cut you loose and take you down to the spirit world. You might be able to make friends there. Who knows?” he laughed. “You could find your own soulmate there.”

You really liked how he laughed. Oh my fairy godmother. You were falling for Death. And right now, signs were pointed towards him not wanting to have a soulmate. If he wanted one, he wasn’t making it obvious. But why did Fate apparently tie you two together by this red string?

“Muerte?”

The sickle fell to his side. “Yes?”

“Do you think our red string will break? If you cut the silver cord, I mean.”

His eyes widened a little. “I didn’t think about that.” He began plucking at the two strings. “Silver cords have pre-dated red threads. Me cutting your cord probably won’t break your thread, and it won’t automatically send you to the spirit world either. You can stick around the mortal plane if you’d like.”

“I think I’d like that. Do you mind the company?”

Muerte clearly didn’t expect you to ask that. He frowned. “You’re seriously not asking to hang around me are you? Not many people are fans of my work, or at least, what they think it entails. It’s the sort of job that makes someone lonely.”

Time to be blunt. “You don’t have to be lonely?” You pulled him closer by tugging on your string. “I’ll ask you again: Do you mind my company?”

The wolf was at war with himself. His ears twitched a little as he turned away from you, pacing back and forth. He spent a great deal of time muttering to himself before facing you again with a resolute expression on his face. “Alright, fantasma pequeño. I’ll cut your cord and you can come along. Whenever you want to go to the spirit world, you just tell me.”

Now, his tail was wagging a little. You smiled a tiny bit as he tried to subtly grab it firmly and stop it.“I’d love to hear more about you and the people you’ve met. You’ve lived an interesting life, you know.”

“Yes, considering I was there for all of it.”

At this he chuckled, before baring his teeth in a wide grin. His sickle was comfortably back in his hand. “Well then, it’s time to go. Ready?

 You nodded, and with one clean motion, he cut the silver cord. For a moment, your life flashed before your eyes, before a calmness settled into your body. You felt lighter than before.

“Well,” you said, smacking your lips. “This will take some getting used to.”

“Certainly,” Death laughed. It was an intoxicating laugh. He grinned charmingly. “But you have me here for you.”

“Until the end of time.”

“God, I’d hope you wouldn’t stick around that long.”

You punched him in the arm for teasing you, and he laughed again. Accepting his offer, you linked your spectral arm in his, and together, you went off to see what the world had to offer for Death and his ghost.

[simonlynch]

sugarplum.

ship: briarbear -> carm/wednesday (s/I) wc: 1376 summary: briar introduces themselves to carm's coworkers for the first time.

Richie barely looked up from his phone when he heard the door, still recouping from lunch rush. 

Probably some straggler, he thinks, and if they can be late to lunch, he can take a fuckin’ minute to take their order --

“Uh, hello?”

“Yo, what can we --” he pauses, chokes on the ice he's chewing as his eyes set upon them.

Their hair is pulled back, dark; this week it's dyed a deep plum color, ombre with peach that sets a highlight just about their cheekbones, where the few bright colored ends of their grown bangs that weren't tied back lay. The light dye popped especially against the minimal but dark makeup accenting their face, and that black sweater they wore…It was strangely familiar, but Richie could scarcely process the fact.

Had he half a mind, he'd ask if they're as sweet as they looked. But fortunately for them both, he was left utterly dumbfounded. 

“How can, uh, I help you?”

“Is Carmy here?”

“...Carmy?”

“Sorry -- Carmen?”

Richie shakes his head, “Nah, I know who you're talkin’ about, it's just --” he sighs, before turning his head towards the kitchen and letting out a very disappointed “Yo, cous!”

It's a moment before the vaguely annoyed “What, Richie?” comes back to him. 

“Got a minute?”

“Uh, not really.”

“Yeah, well, your services are requested at front of house, chef.”

“...What?”

Richie takes the time to let his gaze linger, stuttering a not-so thoughtful “Er --” before moving closer to the kitchen, or at the least out of earshot of the dining room.

“I mean, there's some hot piece of ass askin’ for you out there. Like, by name.”

“What the fuck -- ?” Carm groans, “Fine. I’ll be right there. Shit.”

He finishes dicing the smattering of vegetables on his cutting board and, then with a sigh wipes the sweat from his brow. It's hard to remember how hot the kitchen can get, and this thought is what claws its way to the forefront of his mind as a million other things begin to unfurl in the background of his brain; He's behind on prep, who the fuck could be asking for him? Gas bill’s due tomorrow. Speaking of gas, he needs to stop and get some on the way home. He’ll be late, he should probably take a minute and text --

He mutters a weak “Corner,” in the second it takes him to approach and round the deli bar doorway, and he tosses the towel he's wiping his hands on over his shoulder. When he peers past the counter though, his eyebrows raise, and he lets out an airy chuckle. 

“‘Scuse us for a minute, would you, cousin?”

Richie nods, shrugs, and barely moves an inch into the kitchen doorway. Carmy rolls his eyes and takes another step beyond into the dining room, head slightly hunched as they speak in hushed tones that the rest of the staff one at a time slowly gathers to strain to hear in curiosity. 

“Little busy, sweets.”

“I won't stay long. Just wanted to pop in, ‘sall.”

“No, I mean, I’m not sayin’ that, it's just…” he trails off, shakes his head, and pivots his thoughts, “I thought you had a thing today.”

“A thing? Like, you mean my job? Like, that thing?”

“Well, it's a thing.”

“A thing, yeah I guess it's a thing, but like, I get paid to do it, so…I mean, like --”

“Well, yeah. But I mean, how did it go?”

“Like an everyday kind of thing...It was fine. It was this morning. So, y'know...Now I’m here.”

They stare at each other for another awkward moment, though the embarrassment seems to lie more in Carmy than it does Briar, almost as if they’re reveling in it. Richie stifles a giggle.

“Anyways, you left without your key this morning. I just wanted to drop it off, in case I’m asleep tonight.”

Carm sighs, watching carefully as they dangle the lanyard in front of him, pooling the fabric into his hand when he finally extends it.

“I’ll be late, by the way.”

“Always are.”

“...Sorry.”

He looks at them. He knows that he should be tucking the loose strand of hair away from their face, telling them they look pretty today, especially in the cute outfit they've seemed to fashion out of his old torn black sweatshirt. He knows he should be making excuses, promising to do better but he doesn't, and he hopes that they understand that it's a promise he can't make, and that he'd rather not make it at all than break it. He knows he should be leaning in, and kissing them and reminding them how much he loves them, that he appreciates how patient they are, how attentive and forgiving they are to his appearing distance, perhaps more now that they lived in Chicago than when they had stayed behind in New York. He recounts every single shortcoming he can muster within himself, not of his own accord, and also dinner starts in about three hours, and he hears the ring of the timer he set for himself to do a walkthrough, and he has to temp all the coolers still and don't forget to check Mikey’s office for the address book in case it has anything in it and he should probably call back that guy about getting the lights in the back alley fixed and has anyone checked the chicken in the past thirty minutes? 

The brush of their skin against his draws him back, and in the moment his eyes dart down to where their hands touch, he realizes the weight of the cigarette carton in his other. He should offer to chat with them while he takes a break. He should take the ends of their hair between his fingers and compliment them, he doesn't want them to think he hasn't noticed it's changed color. He was observant, if nothing else. 

In his mind, he offers a plethora of compliments, “You look gorgeous today, sugarplum. Your hair looks great, pumpkin. I miss you, jellybean.”

The last stings all too well, burned into his memory by having typed it so frequently just not so long ago. 

Instead, he wraps his fingers around the house key, and pulls it gently until it's close enough to shove into his pocket. He searches their face for any sign of understanding, and he finds apology and sympathy instead. 

Because they didn't understand, and perhaps they never would. But they would again and again wait up two, three, four hours past midnight until they heard the front door open and shut, until they felt the warmth of him next to themselves in bed or found themselves otherwise chasing him down to the couch and sleeping there next to him -- Just so they could say they wake up to see his smile every morning. 

He looks down to the key, dangling from his pocket, and back to them.

“Thank you.”

“See you at home, teddy.”

“Seeya.”

“Didn't even offer me lunch? Tsk, damn, I see how it is,” his expression falters for a moment, and he almost begins to speak before they cut him off with a chuckle, “I’m fuckin’ with you, Carm.”

He almost smiles. They flick a stray crumb from his shirt with a wink before spinning and heading towards the door. 

They turn, catching one last glance at him.

“This place is homey, by the way. You should let me do a shoot here, sometime…Oh, and you can tell your friends my name is Briar!” 

They wave their fingers one last time before headed out back into the city. 

Carmy moves to retreat to the kitchen, nerves still burning where they'd touched him, the echoing sound of their voice in his mind grounding him before he can get too deep into his thoughts again. But when he looks back, he sees the mass of chefs crowded, peeking from the doorway. 

“The fuck, guys?”

“Briar's a fun name,” Tina smiles, “Caught a good one, Jeff.”

“Shit, yeah, don't let that one go.”

“Richie --”

“Not quite how I pictured them.”

“Syd -- You know, fuck all of you. Back to fucking work, please.”

The resounding chorus of “Yes, chef,” that greets his ears in reply has never sounded sweeter. 

[iaus]

you always wind up here (a life with you & i)

chapter 3/?: don't come back lover

T | 1,872 words

Enjoy the break, Stardiamond; it’s deserved.

porter is... considerate.

notes: short update because. the second half of this chapter was getting unruly and needed to get split

beta'd once again by kodie 💕

[uzurakis]

UR REBLOG AWAKENED SOMETHING IN ME reader giving jjk men (specifically gojo 🤫) head for the first time🗣️🗣️🗣️

S★CKIN’ IT RIGHT!

featuring: gojo satoru. itadori yuuji. fushiguro megumi. yuuta okkotsu. (all characters are aged up)

NSFW MDNI. how they react to a nice glock for the first time!

n. keeping it short n’ nasty 😏 hope ya like it babes <3

ITADORI YUUJI. his breath hitched, and he couldn’t help but let out a soft whimper. face flushed in pink and forehead drenched in cold sweat already. even from the first second your lips parted around his shaft, you earned a sweet wail from your boyfriend. “a-ah, fuuuckkkk, baby,” your eyes flew open as you felt him jerking his hips forward, a lil’ frantic for your attention, making you chuckle at him. tipping his head backwards every now and then as he begged and moaned desperately.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. groans, breathy groans were all you could hear from him. you swirled your tongue around his tip, earning a silent gasp from your boyfriend. his emerald eyes shutting and head thrown back as you drooled over his thick veiny length. “fucking, hng, god,” he grunted, compressing his syllables into groans and biting his lower lips to make the moans sound rough. your movements were deliberate and slow. so you took a long, flat lick down his length before taking it all in again. that's when he couldn't hold it back anymore.

GOJO SATORU. he thought you were the goddamn best with your hollowed cheeks, tongue playing at his cock and gulping him until his tip reached your back as your head bobbed up and down constantly. moans furiously as your lips swallowed him whole, his favorite part when you draw back to lick along the underside of his cock. “mhmmm, so soo gooood for mee,” gojo was completely and utterly lost in the ecstasy of the pleasure. “shiiiit, yeah—just like dat, keep goin’ baby, keep, hng, going..”

YUUTA OKKOTSU. it started when you flicked your tongue around his warm top and took it all in, giving it a short suck with only your naked lips enclosing his cock. yuuta began to squeal and pant heavily as a result of your tongue's vicious movement. "b-baby, don't—ah" tears welled up behind his eyes, and all he could see were the hazy lights that dazzled them. the guy was growing hotter, and the sensitivity down below was pushing him to cry even harder.

@uzurakis

[chosocutegf]

roommate!Suguru x f!reader

cw: voyeurism, smut

I’m always thinking about roommate!Suguru, and the fact that he would be so obsessed with you.

At first, when you just moved in, he wouldn’t spare you of even a glance and he only spent time with his friends, Shoko and Satoru. However, as time went on, Suguru started to warm to you and you two got to hang out more together. That’s how he became interested in you.

And for suguru being interested meant he was obsessed with you.

Not that you would realise of course, he made sure of never raise your suspicions, but he stopped bringing people at home and only wanted to be with you. he would want to know what you always did, who you hung out with, and where you went.

You noticed something was different with Suguru, when he started to get more touchy. Every moment was an occasion for him to touch you.

You were passing in front of him? Smack on your ass.

You were trying to reach something on a higher shelf? He pressed his body against yours from behind and took it for you, a grin on his face.

You were going out and needed to put a necklace on? He was ready to do that, and he made sure to caress the nape of your neck and hair when he was done.

You didn’t really understand what he wanted from you, until a special event happened.

Suguru caught you touching yourself while talking to another person. It was not his fault he caught you, okay??? You left the door slightly ajar, as if you were inviting him to watch you.

And so he did. He observed you from the little crack of the door, while you panted sitting on top of your sheets, unaware of his presence. Your legs were spread open and he could clearly see your little fingers rubbing your pretty pussy.

He cussed under his breath and reached down to rub his cock over of his pants. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted to taste your pussy himself. He listened patiently to your conversation at the phone, while you bit your lower lip, trying to reach that orgasm that the other person was trying to guide you to.

However, it never happened. And Suguru noticed how you faked your orgasm in order to make the call end.

So, the moment you put down the phone, your roommate stepped into your room. Your eyes widened and you close your legs to hide your wet pussy and swollen clit when you saw him, your face burning. “Suguru! Get out!,” you screamed flustered but it only made Suguru chuckle as he approached your bed.

“Who were you talking to?,” He asked teasingly as he sat at the end of the bed. You were still blushing and looked at him with a little pout. “No one,” you murmured, looking away and missing how his cock throbbed in his pants at your indifference and pretty pout.

“They sure were no one if they didn’t make you come… Now let me take care of you, mh?,” He insisted as he slid closer to you on the bed, still not touching you. When you looked back at him, you sighed… why not? You felt restless and disappointed from the person you were talking to, and the man you had in front of you was far much better than them.

Skip forward, that’s how you found yourself laying under your roommate in mating press, your ankles almost reaching your face, and him pounding inside you so hard that you could feel his fat cock inside your stomach. You pleaded him, after so many orgasm, but Suguru wasn’t buying any of that. He wanted your pussy to form around his cock, so that you would never forget that you belonged to him.

He looked down at you with that annoying sexy smirk, sweat dripping down his forehead, and his hair all around him. “Who owns this pussy, baby?,” He asked breathless, observing how your teary eyes were looking up at him, and a fucked out expression on your face.

“S-Sugu… my p-pussy is yours, please… I can’t,” you cried out, sinking your nails in his shoulders. He hissed at the delicious pain, pistoning his cock inside of you faster, almost reaching your cervix. “Fuck, yeah… all mine, princess,” he panted against your face, laughing.

And that’s how he got you full with his cum, your belly swelled from how much he came inside you. He couldn’t stop looking at his cum coming out of your abused hole, and your spent up body over your sheets. “You’re fucking mine, doll… I will stuff you full with my cum to remind you every day~” he smirked, leaning down to bite your inner thigh before getting up to get a cloth to clean you.

(m.list)

[ma1dmer]

Call of Duty - Phillip Graves NSFW

I need him pregnant,,,,ASAP

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): he needs a second to unwind, pulls you to him and breathes against your skin, lips pressed against the top of your head as he closes his eyes, big on praise in general so even in those moments he's telling you how good you were for or to him, he'll help you clean up in a bit, like the gentleman he can be, but for a moment let him catch his breath

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): like the good ol' american boy he is, he loves tits, small or big, it does not matter, he just loves them, loves a pretty bra with bows ,and straps he can snap back on your skin like a school boy teasing his crush, definitely a lingerie guy, feels like he's unwrapping a present

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically): riding off of what I said above, loves a pearl necklace, has you push your tits up prettily for him so he has a good target as he works his cock quickly above you, muttering to himself as he concetrates on how pretty you look beneath him, one hand always on your tits, touching, cupping, pinching

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): this man loves to show you off, loves the attention you get from others and knowing that at the end of the day you are coming back home to him ,he never lets things get too far but he gets such a thrill from watching other men fawn over you, he'll swoop in once he gets bored and firmly redirect the other man away from you while pulling you in for a kiss, if you ask him what took him so long he'll lie about not noticing

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?): he always says he is looking for someone to settle down with as a joke, and then turns around and has another no strings attached hookup with some pretty stranger ,he didn't choose the man whore life, it chose him, he has his fair share of experience ,and he truly is too cocky for his own good about it

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying): the standard missionary, if it ain't broke don't fix it, he puts a pillow under your hips and holds himself up so he doesn't miss any detail, from his cock disappearing inside you to your body moving with every thrust, easier access to the goods as well, he's just all over you

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.): he is quite playful when he wants to be, enjoys purposefully riling you up just so he can do the whole act of asking you to forgive him, just tell me how to make it better, he'll ask in fake apology as he kisses your stomach, eyes glinting with mischief knowing he's getting what he wants

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.): not particularly hairy, and everything he has is fine and blonde, lets it natural, he also always seems to smell of a very specific brand of soap

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect): he loves a good traditional chase, let this man do his thing, flirt with you, try to woo you, take you out in his car, open doors, likes if you play a bit hard to get for him, even if you've been dating for years, just so he can promise you the moon and the stars as he slides his hand up your thigh, it's not easy to be casual with him when he acts like that

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon): he enjoys taking his time when he is by himself ,one of the reasons he'd bother upgrading his phone to something a bit better, a bit more modern, with a better camera feature, is purely for those lonely nights when he has the free time to sit back for a bit, but can't leave base yet, he'll shoot you a text, and have his pants off as he waits for you to reply

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks): edging, dirty talk, praise/degradation etc

L = Location (favorite places to do the do): in the heat of it he always suggests you two take it somewhere more public, his office, in front of his shadows ,maybe a bar, asking you to paint an image for him, telling you how pretty you are and how much he wishes others could see you like this, would you stop him if he tried to do something outside of your bedroom? ,how naughty and loud you are ,how you definitely want to be seen and heard by others, but at the end of the day he doesn't actually do anything, he knows the risks

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): he loves dirty talk, especially when you do it, he enjoys when you know and tell him what you want, will be grinning cockily as he listens to you, encouraging you to add more details, helping you add to whatever filthy fantasy you confess to him

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): I don't see him venturing to the more extreme side of anything ,he knows his limits and as willing as he is to entertain your whims he likes things a bit more vanilla personally

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): this man loves to give head, eats it loudly, non stop talking as he pleasures you, it's sloppy and he isn't very focused, you'll have to beg for him to take it seriously, but oh boy when he does, he buries his whole face between your legs

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): he alternates, will start off faster for you mostly and then slows down the closer he gets to his orgasm, holding you close as he methodically chases his own pleasure

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): loves the idea of them but he never truly commits, there is always some excuse he has about why he can't at that specific moment

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.): he'll try toys, he'll try impact play, he'll try the occasional sub/dom dynamic, he'll pull rank, he'll role play , he'll try switching, he enjoys all of it honestly, but only occasionally ,and never taken too far

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?): one long round with plenty of foreplay and messing around

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): doesn't feel strong either way about them, he prefers things a bit more traditionally but won't say no to spicing up things every now and then if you ask him nicely

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): he is a tease, through and through, but he doesn't hold his ground that well, feed into his ego, beg a bit and he always relents, you have to play into his game

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): he is not loud, but he isn't quiet either, he just doesn't shut up, he talks a lot under his breath, he praises you in that soft southern drawl of his and encourages you with a chain of little yes' and deep moans, he isnt hiding the fact he's enjoying himself

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character): has a big oral fixation, he loves using his mouth, put your hands anywhere near his face and he's gonna turn to kiss your palm, your wrist ,or in the heat of the moment pull your fingers in his mouth

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes): average size, with a slight tilt to the side, surprisingly pretty and much paler than the rest of him

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?): he can often get lost in his head with all the work he has, and as along as he's kept busy he doesn't quite think of anything else but his missions and his orders ,but once he sits down, once he gets a chance to take a breath ,then he realises how much he truly misses you and how much he'd rather be spending his time with you

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): once you guys start pillow talking he closes his eyes and insists he's listening, you might think he's not but if you try to move away or stop talking, he grumbles for you to keep going, he is a very light sleeper

[izaanagi]

Oliver... handjob kink (idk what it's called)

— tw. handjob feat. Oliver Aiku.

+ mdni. reblogs are always appreciated!

You've been kissing Oliver for what feels like hours, and your hands have been wandering around his broad and firm chest, his chiseled pecks, his hard abdomen but have never ventured farther. You don't know whether it is because you're afraid of what it might brings, or because you're simply afraid you won't be up to par to the girls that must have touched, and not only, Oliver.

"Hey, doll?" he asks, as he looks up from your neck, where bruises of all shapes and sizes are blooming, as he stares right through you with his enigmatic dual toned eyes, lust blowing his pupils only to leave a rim of colour around. He looks like a thoroughly fucked god.

"What's up? I can hear you thinking even if your lips aren't moving."

Your core pulses, because Oliver is just like that. He makes you hungry and wet, and hungry and wet and then makes you feel as if there hasn't been anyone in his life that would have ever made him like that way, too.

"Can you teach me how to touch you?" you ask, hesitant, but you feel before you see Oliver's eyes widening, and a gulp going doing his throat. He does not have an answer for you.

After a small moment of silence, he takes your hand in his, and looks you straight in the eye.

"Trust me."

And that's all he says, before he is already guiding your hand toward the zip line of his pants and helps you unbutton them, slowly, steadily. Yet, time feels to move in molasses and all you can hear is the rush of blood inside your ears, the way your pussy is getting wetter inside your panties, and your nipples stiff inside your half inside-out bra, and the warmth of Oliver's palm.

He takes his pants off, and all you're left with is the bulge of his desire and the saliva you're trying to swallow without suffocating.

"It's okay, doll. Slowly," he gently whispers and then you're already cupping his length through the fabric. He's big, and he's clearly already semi-hard, with a wet patch on the front. It makes you feel marginally better to know you're not the only one to be in that situation.

Your hand in his, he strokes himself all over his rigid cock one, slowly, making you feel exactly where he ends and where the base is, still covered by the boxers. You lift your hand again, the cloth creating a friction against his raw skin that makes him inhale sharply. God, he is big, but his hand isn't leaving yours, so after stroking again and again, familiarising yourself with his shape, you feel bold enough to speak.

"Can you take them off?"

"Do you want me to take them off?" he asks, and when you nod, it's all but a moment that you're left with glorious Oliver Aiku standing stark naked in front of you, his shaft stiff and ready for your hand to resume its work.

At the touch, he feels warm. The vein underneath throbs, and the glans is already swollen and deliciously red, as a strawberry. In a passing moment of confidence you wonder whether it would taste like that, too.

"There's not much to it besides what you've been doing already, sweetheart," Oliver adds, but you doubt that is the case. And yet, you're already wrapping your hand around him, not even reaching all the way, and resuming again the sliding motion. His skin moves with your palm, and Oliver's hand with yours. It goes up and down, exactly as you will it to. Then, Oliver twist his wrist, up in one direction and going down in another.

"That's the movement, yes. Gently, up and down until you feel it twitch, alright?"

You feel yourself nodding, before you're backing it up with another corkscrew motion of Oliver's cock, already giving a twitch at that. He has been breathing as if in labour for a while, and you can see the way he wants to jerk up his hips to meet your hand, but is refraining from doing so.

You pick up the rhythm, his cock growing his each motion of your wrist stroking it u, swallowing the glans in and then down again, twisting, and revealing the way the mushroom top is carmine and ready to burst. It takes another five minutes of you stroking Oliver, first slowly and then faster, until all your do is get a little farther than the top and then up, in jerking motions you know you'll have to practice to become good at, when you feel the cock under your hands twitch uncontrollably and Oliver to gasp in.

He cums on your hand in heavy, white strikes. They feel heavy on your hand, and there's a weird fascination that makes you want to dip your tongue inside of you and taste. But you don't, not before you have given another full pump to Oliver's cock and feel him slump against the bed post.

"Was that your first handjob?"

You nod, not able to fight the blushing, not the fact that you've nearly cum yourself watching him.

"I surely hope it won't be the last then," he adds, cheeky, as he kisses you fully, tongue wiping your internal walls, and then helps you clean up his own mess. The smell of Oliver lingers longer you'd like to admit.

[hellwurld]

Tina calls her an angel, and Bagi wants to burst. She doesn’t, because she’s so fucking cool, and chill, and normal, but she wants to desperately.

Angel, Bagi thinks, a smile pulling at her face even hours after their date, She thinks that I’m an angel.

The thing is that Bagi’s never really had this before. She’s never been able to, been allowed to, have something like this before. She’s always been so busy, and she’s always been moving. She’s always been so focused on her brother that she’s never focused on... anything else, now that she’s thinking about it. He’s her twin brother, which means he’s everything, and then he went missing and no one did anything about it. It was up to her, and she wasn’t going to let him down, even when he went to war and even when he went to prison and even when she kept getting so close to reaching him again before he disappeared again. 

He disappeared again, and then she found him, and he didn’t remember. 

It shattered her, a little bit, because she remembered. She had to remember, she has to remember, for both of their sakes. She tries not to be hurt when he snaps at her about her getting coddled by mommy and daddy because she knows that he doesn’t know that, not really, and that he’s just saying anything he can to hurt her. He doesn’t know that, he doesn’t know anything, because he doesn’t remember anymore, and he doesn’t know her.

That’s okay though, because Bagi knows Cellbit. Of course she does, she’s his twin sister, she’s his older sister, even if only by a few minutes, of course she knows him. She’s spent her whole life knowing him.

He doesn’t know her, but that’s okay. He will know soon. He’ll remember, and things won’t go back to normal, because there hasn’t been a normal for the last fifteen years, but things will get better. He’ll remember her, and they’ll take down the stupid fucking Federation, and she’ll meet Richarlyson, and he’ll remember her. Bagi won’t be alone anymore, and she won’t be chasing after a ghost because he’ll be right there and he’ll remember her.

She loves him, and she misses him, and everyone else is wrong about him because she knows him.

Roier and Pac and Bad can tell her whatever they want about Cellbit not being the person she remembers, that he’s grown and changed and that he’s an adult now, and that he’s not his eleven year old self, but they fail to realize that she knows. She knows he’s not eleven, and she’s not trying to make him go back to that. She’s just trying to help him remember, trying to remind him of who he was for the first half of his life, because then he’ll figure out who she was for the first half of his life, and then he’ll figure out that she’s still his sister. He’ll figure out a place in his puzzle to fit her in, and then she’ll be whole again, because he’s her brother and despite the fact that she knows other people know him better, she’s known him forever.

There’s dead bodies now, and Bagi doesn’t care that Cellbit might’ve done it.

She knows that he tried to hide it from her, the crimes before the corpses of federation workers started showing up on what was essentially her front door. He said that it felt good to kill someone again, that he’s not the same person she grew up with, that he’s different.

I don’t care, Bagi told him, and she meant it. She needs him to know that she meant it.

[astarions-darling]

Your Eyes Can Be So Cruel

Raphael x GN!Reader I hate how there is no cutscene whether you win or lose against Raphael. Anyway, this is just a little drabble for if you lose (part of it was inspired by Labyrinth and I've borrowed some dialogue and altered it a bit) no real warnings but he is a Villain™

“And now down here comes the claw.”

You stares at the devil, his face twisted in glee as he stands above you. Lying on your stomach, you try to push yourself up on your elbows even though every muscle in your body screams in protest. Everything aches. Your skin is scorched and bleeding but the little strength you have left is used to sit up, your legs splayed to one as a hand stay firmly planted on the cold marble ground. Exhausted and bone-weary you sigh. It had been a long battle—a battle that has now been lost.

“What a clever mouse you thought you were,” says Raphael as his body shifts, the human disguise returning—not a hair out of place as he smooths down the front of his doublet. How you despise it when he appears so, and you feels he knows this. It makes him too soft and appealing, trustworthy. It’s harder to remember the devil he is with those warm eyes and soft lips. And those lips are dangerous, for his honeyed words spill so effortlessly from them and it’s all too easy to believe them. “But this is my house you’ve been scurrying around in and I’m afraid you aren’t leaving with my cheese. In fact, you will not be leaving at all.”

“Please, Raphael, I need the hammer! A deal—“

His face contorts, the unbridled rage from earlier returning, how it twists his handsome face. “No deals! I’ve been more than generous up until now.”

“Generous?” You can barely speak through a bloodied lip but you manage it. There is still the desire to fight burning low in your belly. You will not lie down like some obedient dog waiting for its master's forgiveness. Your words come out in a hiss between your teeth. “What have you done that’s generous?”

“Everything!” he roars, his eyes burning like the hells. You know his grip on control can only be held for so long, you feel the power radiating off of him. “Everything that you wanted I have done. You asked that I help you with your tentacle problem and I did. You demanded that I translate your little vampling’s scars. I did. I have offered numerous times to help you. I gave you an easy and painless solution, and yet you decide to come into my home and steal from me—destroying my house in the process." He sucks in a shuddering breath through his nose, eyes hard as he stares down his nose at you. "I have not crushed you like the ungrateful vermin you are. Isn’t that generous?”

“Please, let my friends go.” There is only desperation now and you are begging. It hurts you, more than the pain inflicted against you from his earlier wrath.

“Oh, I shall let them go,” The sudden change in his voice, from sneering rage to eerie calm is more terrifying than anything else. You feels your stomach turn to knots. “Even better, I'll return them to their masters.” There is something pressing against your sides and then suddenly your body is hoisted up. You can't move your body, arms pinned to your side. The cambion slithers up behind you silently before his hand is under your chin, forcing you to look at your fallen friends before you. Your back is pressed against his and your body yearns to fall against it, you are grateful that you are frozen in place and can't submit to the whims of your weak mortal flesh.

Raphael's other hand extends before you and you watch his long fingers snap, fire and magic uncoiling from their tips. There is nothing you can do but watch, horrified, as Karlach disappears in a flurry of ash. You had promised Karlach that she would be free. You had promised.

“Zariel will be happy to have our dear Karlach back.” The words are felt against your neck and they make you shudder. His fingers click again and you watch as Shadowheart disappears as well. “I hear Shar can be quite unforgiving but I’m sure the girl will survive.” You know what is next and your eyes land on Astarion as he lies crumpled and bleeding on the floor, his pale hand outstretched toward you. “And our little vampling—“

“Don’t!” you beg. You try to break free of his hold but the pain is insurmountable when you attempt it. “Please, don’t!”

A slight squeeze at your throat. “Perhaps this can be a valuable lesson.”

The third snap of his fingers rings in your ears, the smell burning your nostrils as the vampire disappears in a cloud of ash. You know you’ll never see him again, knows that he will die. There is a yearning chasm deep in your chest as your despair eats away at you. Astarion had escaped once, you tell yourself…maybe he will escape again. Maybe they all will. But you have little hope, in fact, you have none. Your tired eyes fall on Hope, her body lifeless and face blank.

“How sad it is for our adventurer when Hope is gone.” Raphael sighs, his face now coming to rest next yours. His voice is low and tender, and his cheek is pressed against yours, how it burns your skin. “Luckily for you, my little mouse, your master will be much more forgiving than those of your rabble." The spells suddenly ends and you collapse to the ground, limbs smaching against the hard floor as tears fall down your grimy cheeks. The devil circles you slowly, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous room, until he is standing before you.

Your glance up at him, and how you wish to fall into the blackness that lingers behind your eyes. His sneering face regards you. "Yes, I have been more than generous with you. But I can be cruel." The only sound is your laboured breathing as you scowl at the devil. His lips twitch into a smile. "Now kneel.”