#i am so fucking feral for this game and the characters

[bitethedevil]

What do you like about the character of Raphael ?

A Feral Love Letter to the Devil We Know

Oh boy. Here’s my list of why Raphael is like catnip to me (it’s not short and it is possibly a bit extra deranged because I am currently sick).

Purely physical things that convince me that this man was made for me in a lab:

Brown eyes and dark hair has always been my type

The slight stubble and those cheekbones (generally just his whole facial structure is beautiful)

The fucking n o s e <3 <3

Those thick thighs (perfectly sittable and bitable). He is just perfectly shaped.

Those hands he waves in your face all the time and those long fingers (does things to me)

His clothes. Yes, even in cambion form and even the silly clown boots, I love them. It is just all too extra, and I live for it

Everything about his cambion form

I have this crazy theory. There has been made these studies that depending on hormone levels, women are attracted to different kinds of men. At one end of their cycle, they prefer more ‘feminine’ looking men, and on the other end they prefer more traditionally ‘masculine’ looking men. If I get tired of his human form, I get more attracted to his cambion form and the cycle repeats. I think that is why I just do not get tired of staring at this stupid man every day. I know I’m not crazy. It’s science (and we all know I’m a trusted scientist).

Non-physical things that intrigue me:

How expressive he is. I love how his face changes constantly and dramatically with each sentence he speaks. It’s mostly an act but he is so charismatic. He has ‘rizz’ like the kids would say.

I can’t fix him. I don’t want to. His mind games intrigue me. I want to study him like a bug and play mind games with him too (I’m not delusional enough to think I’d win). Let it be toxic as fuck on both parts.

This man is just chucking stones from his glass house like there is no tomorrow. He plays such a big bad devil, but he is really just a little wet cat with a god complex and daddy issues. Not to mention his little hissy fits if any of his perceived weaknesses are pointed out. I find it endearing (unfortunately).

His voice and his eloquence. I love it. Even his shitty poetry. I could listen to it for eternity.

He is so smart. I have been shouting it from the roof tops: he is not stupid. He is always ten steps ahead.

He’s honest. He doesn’t lie and you know where you’ve got him (if you know how to keep up with him).

Genuinely everyone thinks he sucks, both devils and mortals, and yet he thinks he is the shit, either genuinely or as a coping mechanism.

He just such a nuances character if you really dig into it.

Things I relate to:

The scheming and overthinking. Everything is meticulously thought out to the point of obsession. He is playing 4D chess but doesn’t even consider that the other players might just eat the pieces to win. He strikes me as someone who completely overcomplicates things for no reason, and I felt that.

His idea of order is very different from what’s actually orderly. It just has to make sense to him, like ‘what do you mean it’s not orderly to have dead people lying around, trash everywhere, and debtors running around aimlessly in my house? Completely intentional. What’s not clicking?”. I felt that too. There is order to my chaos, and you don’t have to understand it. I get it.

He’s a cringy theater kid with a love for poetry too.

I too find it annoying when other people don’t follow the script I had in mind for the conversation.

Just human enough to understand how human interactions works, but either doesn’t give a shit or genuinely thinks that just spouting vaguely threatening poetry to strangers is a completely normal thing to do.

The obsession and ambition that just completely makes him lose the plot of everything else.

He is just so obsessed with everything being perfect to a point where it almost seems silly.

Acts like he doesn’t care, but actually cares A LOT about how other people perceive him.

I could honestly keep going but you get the picture.

(Thank you for the ask <3)

[foxglovevibes]

Currently revisiting my old hyperfixation with Far Cry 5 so be prepared for the onslaught guys-

[chocolatecatcupcakecheese]

I AM NOW DOING A PLAYTHROUGH OF BALDUR'S GATE 3 AS GORTASH

SIC SEMPER TYRANNIS LITTLE MAN, GET UNO REVERSED ON, IDIOT

Basically what if Gortash got tadpoled and betrayed instead?

I am so brainrotted and I am already writing the fucking fic of this premise.

[heartbeatmap]

ensekai i am simply asking politely for one of the girls pls

JUST GIVE ME MIKU OR LUKA SO I CAN SPARK FOR THE OTHER ONE. I LITERALLY EARNED 30000 MORE CRYSTALS OVER THE LAST WEEK IN THE HOPES OF PULLING ONE OF THE GIRLS.

[deservingporcupine]

*whiny voice* but maaaaa, i don’t WANNA be in a video game fandom

[dirkxcaliborn]

losing my mind over "Miamiでmake some fucking noise" again 😭😭😭 bruh what,,, what Japanese enstarrie otaku went to Ultra Music Festival (tm) and decided to draw Tusmugi Enstars as one of the djs???? fuckin Tsumugi???? Tsumugi was in Miami????? did he meet Pitbull!?!?!?!?!?!?

They took this man to Ultra in Miami, Florida are you kidding me

[charlottesbookclub]

i'm here (ser gwayne hightower x reader) 💚💚

Summary: you have a nightmare, but gwayne is there to comfort you 💚

Warnings/Tags: spouse!reader; gn!reader; established relationship (marriage); nightmares; angst/anxiety brought on by the nightmares; absolutely catastrophic levels of tooth-rotting fluff; let me know if I've missed anything! ☺️

Words: 2870

Author’s Note: as I mentioned in this post, gwayne hightower has absolutely consumed my life and I am down sooooooo bad for him rn, so voilá, this fic has emerged as a result of that! 💕 as I also say in that linked post, I'm not super familiar with hotd, so I'm sorry if any of the terms I use aren't canon-accurate (I watched game of thrones a few years ago and I tried my best to make it feel authentic to the world of canon, but something may have slipped through 😅). and I hope this feels in-character to gwayne! I've rewatched the scenes of his that I have access to many times for...... uhh ~Research Purposes~ but I haven't seen all his scenes yet, so I apologize if it feels ooc at all – I did my best to make it feel like him! 🥰

oh and this is key: we've all seen the necklace, right?? we know about the necklace, right????? that fucking necklace makes me absolutely feral so I've given it a backstory, because it truly has me foaming at the fucking mouth 😌 (also, if you haven't seen the necklace, may I please direct you to this incredible gifset so we can descend into madness over it together?)

as always, I hope you enjoy!! 🥰🥰 (also please feel free to share any gwayne thoughts you have – I'd love to scream about the precious man with y'all! ☺️💕)

            The memory was not yours, but in this moment, it felt like it was. Gwayne had only told you the story once, with hushed words and averted eyes. You had asked, and he could never find it in himself to keep anything from you, even if it made his chest seize with shame. He told you that the whole ordeal had been a result of foolishness on his part, something he would admit only to you. He said that he recalled the memory with great embarrassment now. But you felt nothing but terror.

            You stood on a large, grassy plain ringed with trees, a few wispy clouds scuddling across the blue sky above you. This was a place you had never seen, never been – but one thing was familiar. As you struggled to gain your bearings in the strange location, you saw a group of men on horseback just a short distance ahead. You recognized your lord husband instantly: the delicate silver interlace of his steed’s armor and the auburn glow of his hair in the sunlight were as familiar to you as your own heartbeat.

            You called out to him, but he didn’t respond; he seemed to be in conversation with one of the other men. You ran toward the small group and cried his name again, but even at close range he appeared not to hear you. Panic grew in your chest by the moment as you hurried closer still, coming near enough that you could almost reach out and touch Gwayne’s mount. You stretched out your hand to do just that when your arm was stopped by some invisible force. There was nothing in front of you, just empty air that you should have been able to move through with no difficulty. But you were trapped mere feet from your beloved, unable to reach him.

            Something was terribly wrong. You screamed his name this time, desperation compressing your lungs with the force of your yell. But it was clear that he could not hear you, since neither he nor any of the gathered men so much as turned toward the sound of your cries. Real fear gripped you now, shooting ice through your veins as you cast about you for something – anything – that you could do. And that was when a new kind of fear crept over you, one so old and visceral you could feel it down to your very bones. Shudders wracked your body as you turned your eyes toward the sky, suddenly certain that you were being watched. But not just watched – no, you were being hunted.

            At a loss for what else you could do, you renewed your efforts to alert Gwayne to the danger that you could feel but not yet see. You screamed until your voice was hoarse, but you were forced to watch in horror as Gwayne continued his conversation as though nothing was wrong, even flashing that charming smile that you knew and loved so well. It was just then that the other man finally noticed that something was wrong. He cast his eyes toward the sky as you had mere moments before, saying something to the gathered men. A wave of fear seemed to run through the horses, as there was a flurry of shifting hooves and nervous snorts. You could only watch in terror as realization washed over Gwayne’s face, twisting his handsome features into a terrifying expression of horror.

            You screamed at him to run just as everything burst into motion, the horses tearing off across the plain toward the cover of the trees. You found yourself moving along with them, though you had no mount of your own. Instead, it was the same terrible invisible force, dragging you along, forcing you to watch as the scene unfolded before you.

            And then you saw it: the dragon. It swooped down from the sky as though it had erupted into existence from nothing, filling the empty air with huge grey wings that seemed to blot out the sun. You screamed again, but this time without the intention of forming any coherent words – the noise that escaped your throat was an expression of the fear that was buried deep in your bones upon the sight of the creature. Its lean body shot across the plain toward the fleeing men with a kind of focus and intention that proved what you had thought from the beginning: the dragon was hunting. And worse than that, it was hunting Gwayne.

            Voice rubbed raw from screaming, and realizing your cries to him did nothing anyway, you watched in terrible silence as his steed thundered across the ground, its legs eating up the distance as fast as it could. And yet the dragon gained. If this was some cruel trick played by the gods, you couldn’t think what you could possibly have done to deserve this kind of torment. You could do nothing but watch, utterly powerless, as Gwayne – your Gwayne – fled for his life, his beautiful face contorted into an expression of fear that cut you to the core like a knife to the stomach. You held your breath, fearing each moment would be the one when you were forced to watch your love be consumed by dragonfire, ending both his life and yours in one swift blow of unimaginable anguish and heartbreak from which you knew you would never recover. Just as you had resolved to try calling to him one last time – if nothing else, to assure him of your love – the treeline broke around you and the horses cantered to a stop beneath the cover of the forest.

            The world was still again, but the fear lingered. You could sense the dragon above you, even hear its thin, unearthly cries as it searched for its hidden quarry. Your eyes instantly found Gwayne, needing to make sure he had survived the ordeal. Indeed, he still sat upon his steed, and you watched his chest heave as he attempted to steady his breathing. The fear that still permeated the forest remained etched on his face as well, changing his features from those of the man you had courted and married to those of a young boy, trembling and horror-struck and so helpless and small.

            You longed with every fiber of your being to run up to him and pull him into your arms, to feel his warm breath on your neck as he folded into your embrace. You ached to hold his face in your hands and wipe away the single lingering tear he likely didn’t even know was still glistening on his cheek. You yearned to kiss the terror away from his brow and his nose and his lips, to tell him he was safe – to tell him that you were here. 

            But you were trapped just feet from him, all these longings locked into your body as you pressed toward him as far as the strange invisible barrier would allow. You watched as the fear slowly faded from his face, his features once again becoming warm and familiar. You couldn’t help but smile as he seemed to return to himself somewhat. Turning to one of his companions, he opened his mouth to say something when both of their eyes snapped up to the sky, reacting to some sound you must not have heard. You followed their gaze, and didn’t even have a chance to scream as a column of fire descended from above, ready to devour you all.

            You woke with a gasp. Your heart was pounding loudly enough that you could hear it in your ears, and you pushed yourself up into a sitting position as you struggled to calm your ragged breathing. The darkness in the room was soft, and your eyes adjusted slowly to your surroundings, only to find them all comforting and familiar – this was your room, your home. Instantly, you turned to your side, and let out a small sigh of relief when you saw Gwayne sleeping peacefully next to you. He was here, he was home, he was safe – you both were.

            When your breathing had calmed back to a normal rate, you eased yourself back down under the covers, burrowing into his arms as he sleepily adjusted his position to accommodate you.

            “Hmmm—is everything… alright?” he muttered, blinking his eyes open.

            “Everything’s fine,” you assured him, “I just had a nightmare.”

            He seemed to waken a little more at your words, propping himself up slightly on one arm as he reached the other hand out to stroke your cheek.

            “Are you alright? Do you want to talk about it?” his voice was still thick with sleep, but you knew the questions were genuine.

            “It was about you,” you reached up to cup his hand that still rested on your cheek, intertwining his fingers with yours. “And the dragon,” you added, your words barely above a whisper. Hearing his sharp intake of breath, you were certain he was reliving the memory himself, and instantly regretted your words.

            “But it was nothing,” you hurried to assure him, “I just—I just wish I had been there. Or that I could have helped or—” you were distinctly aware that your jumbled words made very little sense, even to you. “I just felt so helpless,” you ended with a sigh. Gwayne watched you with soft eyes, his fingers squeezing yours in reassurance.

            “You were there, though,” he responded, smiling gently, “and you did help.” You just stared at him incredulously, wondering if he was the one who was dreaming now. He read the question in your eyes with a small chuckle and disentangled his hand from yours, pushing himself up to sit. 

            Pressing a hand to his chest, his fingers found the chain of the necklace that he always wore. The charm was a delicate circle of beaten metal hanging from a simple coppery chain. You had bought it in the market one day when the two of you were still courting. The rich auburn sheen of the metal had reminded you of Gwayne’s hair, and you were determined to have it. The seller assured you that the little ring symbolized unending love and devotion – a never-ending cycle, an unbroken vow. You were doubtful that had been the original intention of the maker, but rather a ploy on the seller’s part to drive up the price after he realized you intended it as a gift for your beloved. Had it been that obvious how love-struck you were? 

            Regardless of whether it was intended or not, you liked the idea of the simple circle as a token of promise and loyalty, as well as a celebration of one of Gwayne’s most striking features. You had given it to him wrapped in a carefully-embroidered handkerchief when he had gallantly asked for your favor before a tourney. You cherished the memory of him asking you to help him put it on, and the fleeting touch of his skin and flaming hair you were able to steal as you clasped it around his neck. He won the tourney, and insisted that his victory was due at least in part to the precious charm you had given him, imbued with your affection and devotion. To your knowledge, he had never taken it off since.

            Now, in the dim light of your shared chambers, he held the little ring out for you to see. It was slightly more battered now than it had been, and though its original shine was gone, it still seemed to glow with a warm coppery light. Reaching out, you took the small circle in your fingers, feeling all the tiny knicks and ridges it had acquired over time, each one of them proof of Gwayne’s promise to always return to you – an unbroken vow.

            “See, you’re always with me, right here,” he gestured to the charm in your fingers. The feeling of the metal against your skin and the sweet memories that swirled through your mind caused tears to prick at the corners of your eyes, chasing away the lingering cobwebs of fear that the nightmare had spun. Gently, you released the ring and Gwayne’s fingers replaced yours on the circle, guiding it back to where it always sat on his chest, just above his heart. He pressed it there, emphasizing his words: “right here, right where you always have been – and always will be.”

            Ducking your head away, you tried to hide the tears that were now threatening to slide down your cheeks as his words. But before you could wipe them on the sheets, Gwayne’s hand caught your chin, gently pulling him back to you, the rough pad of his thumb banishing the tears from your face. His eyes sparkled with affection and mirth, and you found yourself unable to stop yourself from echoing his smile.

            “Hmmm… it’s more serious than I thought,” he said with mock-concern, tilting your face as though he was examining it, “you appear to be desperately and madly in love with me – a very serious condition indeed.”

            You couldn’t help the laugh that spilled out of your mouth as you nudged him playfully, causing him to break into bright chuckles of his own. Your chest, which just moments ago had been compressed with terror, was now so full of love and happiness you were certain it might burst.

            “And tell me, Ser Gwayne, what is the cure for this most dire of conditions?” you matched his tone of feigned worry as your laughter subsided.

            “Hmmm,” he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, unable to hide to hide the dimples forming on his cheeks, proof of his barely-suppressed smile, “perhaps marriage? I have heard many esteemed lords claim that the institution of matrimony is bound to cure an ailment such as yours.”

            “Oh, but I fear I’ve tried that,” you exclaimed, “and it has only made my condition worse.”

            “Then this is indeed one of the most serious cases I’ve ever seen.” He pondered for a moment, then his eyes lit up: “There is one more cure, but it’s risky. You could try true love’s kiss. One does read about those sorts of things working miracles after all.”

            “What’s the risk?”

            “The risk is that the kiss renders your condition utterly uncurable by any other means.” Gwayne’s lips tilted up into your favorite lopsided smile as he grinned at you, dimples glowing like twin suns, sending the delicate freckles on his face colliding into each other like falling stars.

            “That’s a risk I’m more than willing to take,” you breathed as he reached out to cup your face and bring it close to his. You closed your eyes as your lips met in a burst of warm sunlight that seemed to fill your whole body with its radiance. You weren’t sure how long you remined pressed against him, feeling his heartbeat against your skin, his auburn locks twisted in your fingers, his necklace hanging between your entwined forms. 

            “Did it work?” he whispered when he finally pulled away, his forehead still resting against yours.

            “No,” you responded happily, your fingers once again finding the thin metal of the little circular charm, “I fear I’m even more madly and desperately in love with you than before.” You met his eyes, finding them bright and soft and just as madly and desperately in love as you were certain yours were.

            “Well, I like to think of myself as chivalrous, but I don’t think I can find it in myself to regret your condition,” he whispered, a teasing smile on his face as he reached a hand up to run his fingers through your hair.

            “Nor can I,” you whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

            He pulled you fully into his grasp then, maneuvering you both back under the covers without relinquishing his hold on you. You rested on his chest, head tucked under his chin as he wrapped both arms around you. Your fingers found his necklace, and you clasped it in your hand. He echoed your motion until both of your hands were intertwined around the metal circle, resting just above his heart. You could feel it beating against your skin, and you snuggled yourself even closer to him.

            “This is what I imagine,” Gwayne said softly to the darkness, “when I’m on the road without you, and all I have is this small charm to remind me of what it feels like to rest in your embrace. This is what I dream of.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and squeezed your hand where it entwined with his on the necklace. “You’re always right here.”

            “I’m always right here,” you echo, your words a promise, a vow.

            “But thank the gods I don’t have to imagine right now,” you felt his words as his lips moved against your forehead, “because I am right here.” Gwayne wrapped his arms even more tightly around you, and you gladly tucked yourself further into his warm embrace. You felt yourself drifting back into a pleasant sleep in the comfort and safety of his arms. You heard his words echo softly in the gentle quiet of the room:

            “I’m right here.”

[veroniquesboutique]

A Good First Impression - Atsushi Murasakibara x AFAB!Reader

I am feral over Atsushi Murasakibara. Worms using my brain for food type of feral. Foaming at the mouth type of feral.

He is unironically my phone background type of feral.

So, uh....here's this. Personally, I feel real great about it, so I hope you enjoy it as well.

Title: A Good First Impression

Rating: Explicit

Warnings:

AFAB!Reader, Female Reader, f-receiving oral, fingering, it is genuinely only him eating you out, mention of m-receiving handjob, super intense orgasm, squirting, reluctance/hesitation about the squirting but not quite dubcon/noncon, baby used regularly as pet name, college au, fear of getting caught, getting caught after the fact, home for the holidays, parent mention

Characters & ships: boyfriend!Murasakibara Atsushi x AFAB!Reader

Word count: 2.6k words

Summary: Your long-term boyfriend is nervous about staying at your childhood home and meeting your parents for the first time for four reasons:

1 - He's tall, and people tend to comment on it. Too much. 2 - First impressions are a big deal, and what if he fucks it up with his future in-laws? 3 - He met you in college and is terrified of learning something about the you from before (spoiler: you pass the test!) 4 - He can't keep his hands off of you, and he doesn't want the embarrassment of getting caught.

18+ Minors DNI!

More explicit below the cut

Atsushi Murasakibara was nervous to meet your parents for many reasons.

First, his height. This was the first time he was meeting your family, and your parents weren’t exactly short per se, but he was a towering 6’10”. He hated new people having to crane their neck up to look at him, he hated the same three questions and two jokes that every person tells when they meet someone as tall as him, and he hated that he was going to have to learn the careful layout of your childhood home since it was likely not designed with someone of his towering stature in mind. It was always so embarrassing when he’d bump his head on too-low ceiling fans or when he had to bend too far to reach the sink. No one really realizes how weirdly isolating it feels to be at least a head taller than everyone around you, and that’s if he’s lucky. It definitely makes the first impression game much harder.

Second, the holidays. For some reason, instead of meeting your parents for the first time at a low-stakes dinner or briefly in public, he agreed to stay for a week for the holidays at your house. It wasn’t ideal, but they lived in the countryside, and a hotel would have been so inconvenient, so you two decided to stay with your parents. He even sat through the awkward conversation where you all had to figure out if he was sleeping in your room or on the couch. Your parents weren’t exactly the most conservative people in the world - they knew you lived with him now for God’s sake, so it’s not like they had no idea what you two got up to - but everyone was deeply uncomfortable with the suggestion of anything happening under their roof. That being said, none of their couches could handle him - re: the aforementioned height problem - so they made the disgruntled decision to let you two room together. Just no locking the door.

On top of it all, he wanted to bring them gifts, but he had no idea where to even start with holiday gifts for future in-laws he’d never met. You insisted that he didn’t really have to get them anything and that they’d be thankful for anything he put thought into, but that didn’t ease the burden of deciding if your dad was a beer guy or if he was a tool guy or if he was a sports guy or a grill guy or a music guy. The options made his head spin, and that’s not even touching all the possible gifts he could get your mother. This was it - THE first impression - and if he didn’t get it right, he was afraid of a rocky relationship with them forever.

Third, your childhood. He didn’t know you before you two met in college, so everything about you before you moved to the city is a complete mystery to him. His worst nightmare was discovering something about you that he would never be able to unsee. He had always hated the vulnerability in this moment in all of his previous relationships, and it had soured more than one relationship well before its expiry date.

The night you arrived, you showed him to your room, and he held his breath as you swung the door open for him. He walked in, looking around, waiting for the weird childhood shoe to drop, but…it didn’t. The room was fairly normal. It looked like it could be a teenage room in a movie. It seemed stale, set in time, but it didn’t give him the same feeling of ick throughout his body. Carefully, shelf by shelf, he investigated your knickknacks and decorations and memories, and everything he saw made him love the small piece of you that he knew more than the last. By the time he had overturned every stone in your room, his heart was beating harshly in the rhythm of your name.

“You look like you were expecting something crazy,” You laughed at him, having watched him snoop through your past.

He looked at you, his eyes full of warmth. “I was. I didn’t find anything.”

And then he snuck a kiss.

Fourth, the final most important reason he was nervous was you. Well, to be more specific, he was nervous because he couldn’t keep his hands off of you, and this trip wasn’t going to change anything.

He was nervous because he didn’t want to get caught.

“Ah-Ah, ‘Sushi!” You moan, high pitched and trying to keep the volume low as you wiggle in his grip in an attempt to free yourself from the intensity of his tongue between your legs. Your wrist is pressed against your lips to dampen the sound. He tightens his grip on the back of your thighs, pushing your legs further apart and against your body, opening you up for him, and his tongue continues roughly sliding against your sensitive, buzzing clit.

“They aren’t home. You can be loud,” He grunts against you before wrapping his lips around you and sucking you into his mouth, and you can’t help it as you throw your head back and cry out at the feeling.

“They could be home any second!” You hiss, your hips bucking involuntarily against his face, and in response, he moans deeply, sending tingles through your body.

“Then cum before they get back.”

Biting your lip and panting, nearly winded, you stare down at him, meeting his eyes watching you just over your pelvis, and when his tongue dips into you and presses against your trembling walls, you moan loudly with a furrowed brow. Your fingers tangle through his messy purple strands, pushing his face against your core harder.

He slurps the messy wetness dripping out of you, the sound lewd enough to make you blush. “God, you taste so good,” He groans into you, his tongue desperate. “It’s been too long.”

“It’s been three days!” You laugh breathlessly, body convulsing at the small nudges of his nose against your clit as he drinks you in.

“And that’s three days too many,” he complains, shaking his head and smearing his face against the slickness between your legs. “I can’t wait like that. I need you all the time.”

You pant in response, unable to form words when his tongue finds your clit again, brushing against it at a punishing pace. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your stomach spasming, and he finally releases one of your legs from his controlling grip just to slide it up your needy slit and dip one of his long fingers into you. You nearly cum then, your back arching so aggressively that you hit your head against the wall, and he can’t help the small laugh that rumbles against your nerves.

“Careful, babe,” He mutters, curling the single finger inside you, and the feeling is such a warm, pleasurable tightness in your core.

“I’m going to cum,” You whisper, dropping your jaw open in pleasure, and you feel his smile in response.

“I’m not done yet, so if you cum now, you’re going to have to handle it when I keep going.”

You whimper, lip quivering and body shaking. Breathing, you attempt to stave off the orgasm that has you dangling off the edge of sanity. He slows his movements, watching you closely as he wrings you of cute little sounds and moans and shivers, and it helps when you suck in air, huffing through your nose to stop the trembling in your lower abdomen.

“Y-you said cum before they get back,” You counter, hissing the words through your teeth as you lean up, your toes curling tightly. His tongue helicopters against your throbbing clit, and he takes the hand that was on the back of your other thigh and places it atop your pelvis, pressing down as the finger still deep inside presses up, and you feel the telltale tightening in your core that makes you panic a little.

“You can choose to cum now and be overstimulated, or you can choose to cum later at the risk of your parents hearing you,” He looks up over you with a smile, a second finger suddenly pushing into you to meet the other. “I’m a believer in autonomy.”

As his two fingers now press into the gummy sweet spot in you, you confirm the tightening is definitely going to cause many, many more problems than he’s considering. You bring your hands to grip the bedding below you, trying to wiggle away again. “’Sushi, I-I, wait, I’m going to-” You frustratingly cut yourself off with a groan as his mouth finds your clit again.

“Going to what, babe?” His voice rumbles against you, and there’s a soft wash of pleasure moving through you like waves against a shore. You can only think that it’s going to be a pain to clean after this.

“It’s going to-I’m going to-”

“Aw, baby, I need you to use your words,” He teases, batting his eyelashes innocently when you shoot him a glare.

“I’m going to make a mess,” You grunt through gritted teeth, raising your eyebrows in hopes of him understanding the euphemism, and when it clicks in his brain, his eyes go bright and wide.

He hums darkly, pressing his fingers into you deeper and earning a surprised squeal out of you. “You’re going to squirt for me, baby?”

“God, I hate that word!” You yelp, involuntarily grinding your hips down onto him and panting out in tight, restrained pleasure. “You-you gotta stop now, I-”

“I wouldn’t dare waste this opportunity. You know I love making a mess of you.” His voice is dark, his eyes still teasing as he draws circles around your clit, and between the stretch of his now scissoring fingers, the pressure on your pelvis from his large hand, and his unrelenting pace on your sensitive spots, you’re seeing stars.

Falling back, you groan again, the feeling of uncomfortable tightening worsening deep in you. “The bedding!” You exclaim, arching your back, “I can’t-ah, fuck, I’ll mess up the bedding.”

“Your parents have a washer.”

“The bedding was from my grandmother,” You groan, scrunching up your face and writhing, closing your thighs around his head when it gets too intense. Hyperventilating, you press the side of your face into the pillow, bringing your hand to your face to bite down on your hand to quell the rocking of pleasure inside you now.

“Pity,” He mumbles, distracted too much by the sounds pouring from your mouth, the clenching of your pussy, the taste of your arousal coating his tongue, the slick sounds of his fingers deep in you, and the promise of even more to come (literally and figuratively). “We should’ve put a towel down, huh?”

You groan, frustrated by his lackadaisical demeanor but unable to communicate it as the feeling of pleasure floods your body. You can feel your eyes go a little hazy, and moments later, you call out, your orgasm hitting you like a wall of bricks. It feels like an electric shock through your body, every muscle in your body tensing with a tight zap as the dam breaks inside of you. You squirt, gushing and coating the bed and, effectively, Atsushi’s face, and the only thing that cuts through the absolute sensory overload of your pleasure is his praise that he groans against your skin.

“That’s it, baby, that’s so good. Feel it, c’mon, you can breathe. You taste so good, thank you, baby, thank you.”

With your heavy pants and soft, whimpering moans as aftershocks of the orgasm reverberate through you, your pussy pulses and throbs in time with your heart, and when he softly pushes into you one last time to wring the rest of it out of you, you squeak out a last whine as the final wave of your cum rushes out of you and over his hand. He chuckles at the sight, pulling out of you and dragging his tongue up his fingers while making dark, teasing eye contact with you. Watching his tongue work to lick all of your cum off his skin, your body trembles with both your world-shattering orgasm and the sudden impending need that pulses through you yet again already.

“Kiss me?” You breathe softly, lips barely parted, and he cracks a wide smile, laughing like he’s disbelieving of you.

“You’re going to be the death of me, baby.” His voice is tense and dark with desire, and he crawls up your body slowly, and he meets your mouth with his extended tongue. You lick against it, tasting yourself, and he moans out loud, his hips pressing against yours. His length, hard and impressive, rubs against you, and the friction makes you cry out. You’re too sensitive and overstimulated, but he just smirks against your lips. “I told you to choose carefully. I wasn’t done with you.”

His hand drags down your body, feeling your curves with a hint of possession in his grasp. When he reaches his waist where his hips are pressing into yours, he grips his belt, pulling at the buckle, ripping it through the belt loops on his pants -

The front door opens. The sound of rustling bags floats up to your room. The floorboards creak.

Your eyes go wide in panic.

“Sweetheart?” Your mother calls up the stairs. “We’re home! Atsushi and you should come down and help us with dinner.”

“Get up, get up!” You mutter under your breath, gently batting at his shoulder as he frantically slides off you and off the bed, fixing his belt and helping you by pulling your bedding off. You’re searching for clothes, quickly pulling them on your legs.

The stairs whine as someone climbs step by step.

Your face burns at the impending embarrassment. Atsushi is struggling to hide his arousal with his clothes, and you’re struggling to wipe the slowly drying slick from between your thighs. Your bedding lays in a crumpled, suspicious ball on your mattress.

“Sweetheart?” Your mother asks again, her voice much closer than before.

The doorknob jiggles against the lock.

“C-coming!” You call back, pushing your fingers through your hair as Atsushi wipes his hands down his face to clean up any mess left behind.

“Your door’s-”

You cut off your mother’s inquiry about the locked door by swinging it open. “Sorry, force of habit,” You laugh, opening the door wide enough that she can see Atsushi sitting at your desk with his phone in his hand. He nods a greeting at her.

Her eyes flit to your unmade bed, back down to you, and back over to Atsushi. A slight blush covers her cheeks. “We…we brought groceries for dinner. Would you two like to come help?”

You look over your shoulder at Atsushi who meets your gaze. After a moment, he shrugs and nods. “Sure, we’d love to.”

“Great…come…down when you’re ready,” Your mother says awkwardly, quickly excusing herself back down the stairs. Once you hear her shoes click into the kitchen, you shut the door again, pressing your back to it as you finally let the air in your lungs go in a long sigh. You look up at Atsushi who is trying to bite back his laughter.

“Do you think she noticed?” You wince, knowing the answer.

“Oh yes, absolutely. She knows everything,” He stands, lumbering across the room towards you. He kisses your nose, his hand meeting yours on the doorknob. “Let’s go help with dinner.” He thinks. “And maybe later you can pay me back with a handjob in the shower.”

You groan, the thought of the blush on your mother’s face making your embarrassment burn brighter. “Absolutely not.”

[assumptionprime]

I need to rant about the Fallout show

Because this is the person I am. Full spoilers, so I’m putting it behind a Keep Reading:

I’m a huge sucker for Fallout (yes even 3&4). And I went into the Fallout show with some… trepidation. Amazon has been a mixed bag on adaptations, we could have been blessed with a Good Omens, or cursed by a Rings of Power. But early buzz and reviews seemed positive, so I slammed the whole thing in one night with my spouse (we were staying at my in-laws house and they have Prime. Time was a factor.)

And y’know? I was really enjoying it! The characters were fun, the plot was engaging enough, and the costumes and visual design were extremely on point. There were some minor lore quibbles to be had: Ghouls needing some kind of medicine to not go feral. Really, more Enclave holdouts? Timeline and date whoopsies. Wait are they in California? Where the hell is the NCR?

I made a face at Shady Sands being bombed and the NCR collapsing. But I wasn’t completely out of the story. Based on what I had seen so far, I thought it was building to a reveal that the Brotherhood had done it. That the more zealous turn they took in Fallout 4, which has clearly carried to how they are portrayed in the show, lead them to bombing the NCR. War never changes, as they say. Maximus even says when asked what happened to Shady Sands: “The same thing that always happens.” Yeah, it leans into Bethesda’s weird desire to keep the Fallout world in a state of perpetual wastelands full of raiders and no civilization, but it wasn’t so terrible that I couldn’t still enjoy the show.

But then.

BUT THEN.

Episode 8, and the reveal of Vault-Tec apparently being the ones who dropped the first bomb in the Great War.

I was surprised to hear that some fans have apparently been debating over who fired first? Some even asked Tim Cain about it?

That’s really odd to me because, in the games, there is already a pretty definitive answer to which side sparked the Great War:

Who fucking cares?

The world ended. What does it matter who shot first?

There is no China, no United States, no communists or capitalists left to fight about it. 

It's a powerful little bit of lore.

For all the posturing, all the promises from each nation that their way is the true way, all the nationalism, the militarism, and blind loyalty to flags over humanity, they both lost. Everyone lost. All that remains of the ideologies and nations that were so important to the people of 2077 is faint echoes over vast expanses of radioactive ash.

Who started the end?

No one knows. No one cares.

It only matters that their conflict was so bitter, so all-consuming, that one of them dropped their bombs, and the other dropped theirs in return.

The truest legacy of the old world is the devastation left by their final, most horrific war.

Can we do better?

Then the show says "Nah, Vault-Tec did it. It's not a commentary on human nature and the futility of self-destructive conflict, it was actually these guys, these mustache twirling villains huddled in a darkened room literally plotting to end the whole world so they can rule what's left."

And I can see the attempt to make this a critique of capitalism. I actually paused the show to praise a bit of writing when Coop is talking with Charlie before the war, when Charlie tells him that the “cattle ranchers are in charge” to illustrate how capitalism and corporations hold too much sway over the government, it felt very in line with how in New Vegas one of the recurring critiques of the NCR is that all the real power is in the hands of the “brahmin barons.” Nice parallel, spot on!

But “we’ll set off total thermonuclear war so we can rule the ashes and have a True Monopoly” isn’t capitalism. It’s just dumb “we’re the baddies” writing.

And then Shady Sands was also Vault-Tec?! Forget any meaning in the NCR falling to the same corruption and/or factional fighting that consumed the old world, they were literally just bombed by the evil shadow conspiracy that apparently also killed the old world. Hank gives this speech about factions fighting and the futility of it all while we see the Brotherhood fighting Moldaver’s NCR remnant, and like, no! You can’t say that when you’ve made it so neither the old world or the NCR fell to war with another faction! It was you! You and your band of cryogenic supervillains!

I don't care that they changed it. Timelines and dates and little retcons don’t bother me all that much. I care that they changed it to something so much worse.

[dragonmuse]

How to be a Dirtbag Fic Writer

I got to do some talking about writing today and I couldn’t stop thinking about it so here are my full thoughts on the matter of being a dirtbag fic writer.

Being the disorganized thoughts of someone two and a half decades into the beautiful mess that is writing fanfic (and a few non-fanfic things too).

What is a dirtbag fic writer? 

 I am talking about someone who is not cleaning up anything. We show up filthy, fresh out of rooting around in the garden of our imaginations. We probably smell a little from work. We will hand you our hard grown fruits, but we have not washed them and we carried them in the bottom upturned parts of our t-shirts. The fruit is a little bruised. It’s not cut up or put in a bowl yet. But we got it in the house! It’s here. Someone can eat it.  

Why dirtbag it? Because the fruit gets in the house. If you’re hemming and hawing, if the idea you want to do seems to be big or you want it perfect and shiny. If you’re imagining a ten thousand step process, so you’re not taking the first step? Dirtbag it. 

How do I dirtbag? 

That’s the best part. You just write. Sit down. One word after the other. No outline, no plan, no destination. No thought of editing. Just word vomit. Every word is a good word. It’a word that wasn’t there before. Grammar sucks? Who cares. Can’t think of the perfect word? Fuck it, put in the simplest version of what you mean. 

Write the idea that you love. The one thing you want to say. Has it been done 3000000 times? WHO CARES human history is long, every idea has been done, probably more than twice. YOU have never written it before. It’s your grubby potato that you clawed out of the ground and guess what someone can still make it into delicious french fries. 

Now here’s the critical part. Write as much as you can squeeze out of your brain. One word in front of the other. 

And then I challenge you this: at most, read it over once and then put it into the world. Just as it is. AND THIS IS IMPORTANT: DO IT WITHOUT APOLOGY OR CAVEAT.  I challenge you, beautiful dirtbag to not pre-emptively apologize. Do not make your work lesser. THAT IS YOUR POTATO! It has eyes and roots and dirt clinging to it because that is what happens.  We are dirtbagging it today. Hell really confused people at do #dirtbagwriter on it.  

Dirtbag writes id, base, lizard brain. Dig in the fertile garden of your imagination. What is the story you tell yourself before you fall asleep? What’s your anxiety this week? Your fantasy? What is going well? What do you wish things looked like? Who is the feral imaginary character you’ve been crafting to take your frustrations and joys out on? 

But, VEE, I wish to have an editor and an outline, use a cool software like scrivener instead of retching up onto a google doc and making it look NICE and PRETTY!

COOL! DO THAT THEN! IF YOU’RE ACTUALLY DOING IT! You should have a process! That’s cool and healthy and necessary for sustainable writing. But if you’re not writing because all of that seems too much? THEN DON’T. 

Did you know fic is free? That we do this from love? From sheer desire? For the love of the game? If you have a process, and the words are flowing, amazing, I love that for you, you don’t need this essay.  If you don’t, let us continue. 

What does dirtbag writing look like? 

It’s messy. It’s a little raw and tatty around the edges sometimes. It’s weird.  It’s someone else’s first draft. Maybe it winds up being your first draft, Idek, that’s your business. 

It’s jokes that make YOU laugh. It’s drama that would make YOU cry if you read it. You are your first commenter. You are your first audience (and possibly continuing pleasure! If you don’t go back and reread your own work sometimes, you might be missing out on one of your favorite authors cause you wrote it for you! Wait until you’re not so close to it. Years sometimes. Then hey, maybe some of this is pretty dang good actually.) 

It has mistakes. 

Dirtbags make mistakes, but dirtbags have published pieces. They have things other people can read out there. 

What if I don’t get good feedback? 

Look, the most likely outcome of any new, untried fic writer (and even established writers trying something new-ish)  is that you get no feedback. That’s real. Silence. It’s eerie, it’s terrible, it sucks. I don’t want to pretend it doesn’t. But nothing is not negative. It’s a big fic-y ocean out there and we are all wee itty-bitty-sometimes-with-titty fishes.  

You should still do it all over again. And again. And again. You get better at writing by writing. You just do. Nothing else replaces it. If your well is dry? Fill it with new things. Go do something new, read a new kind of book, watch a new film,  (libraries have so much good shit, you don’t even have to spend money for so many things if you have a library card), just go for a walk in a new direction. Stimulate yourself. Got a cup of something hot and eavesdrop on conversations. Refill yourself with newness. 

And hey, speaking of, do you leave comments? Because you get what you give. You can build relationships with people by commenting and that builds community and community means places to get feedback in the end. Comments are gold. They are all we are paid in. Tip your writers with ‘extra kudos’ or ‘this made me laugh’. And hey, when you go back for a re-read so you can tell them your favorite part? Ask yourself how they made that favorite part? What do you like about it?  Tone? Metaphor? The structure? Reading teaches us how to write too! 

BUT, okay. Sometimes. Sometimes there is actual bad feedback and people suck. 

You know the best part about being a dirtbag? Unrepentant block, delete, goodbye. You don’t own anyone with a shitty opinion any of your precious time on this earth. You did it for free, you gave them your dirty, but still delicious fruit and they went ‘ew, this is a dirty strawberry, how could you not make a clean tomato?”  Because you didn’t plant fucking tomatoes, did you? Don’t fight, don’t engage. Block. Delete. Goodbye. 

If someone in person, looked you in the eye when you brought them a plate of food to share at a party and they said “Why didn’t you bring me MY favorite? This isn’t cooked well at all.” You would probably write up a Reddit AiTA question about it just to hear five thousand people say they were an asshole.   Fic is no different 

And hey, when you dirtbag it? You know you did. It’s not your most cleaned up perfect version. So who cares what they think? You might make it more shiny and polished next time! You might NOT. 

Ok, but what if I don’t finish it? 

Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if it’s bad? 

Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if it doesn’t make sense? 

That’s ART, baby. Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if what I want to write doesn’t work with current fandom norms? 

Then someone out there probably needs it!  And what the hell is this? The western canon? FUCK IT POST IT ANYWAY* 

*Basic human decency is not a ‘fandom norm’. Don’t be racist, sexist, ableist, fat shaming, classist or shitty about anyone's identity on main, okay? Dirtbag writers are KIND first and foremost. Someone saying you are stepping into shit about their identity is not the same as unsolicited crappy feedback about pairings. In the immortal words of Kurt Vonnegut: "God damn it, you've got to be kind.”

You’re being very flippant about something that’s scary. 

I know. I know I am. I know it can be scary. But no risk, no reward and hell, you aren’t using your goddamn legal name on the internet are you? (please for the love of fuck do not be using your legal name to write fic) You’ve got on a mask. You’re a superhero. With dirt on your cape. 

That niche thing that you think no one cares about? Guaranteed you will find someone else in the world who wants it. Maybe they won’t find it right away. Maybe they will be too shy to comment or even hit a button. But your dirty potato will stick with them. They will make french fries in their head.

You have an audience. But they can’t find you if you have nothing out there. 

Go forth. Make. 

You have some errors in this essay. 

PROBABLY CAUSE I DIRTBAGGED IT.  But I picked this strawberry for you out of my brain, so I hope you run it under some cold water and find the good bits and have a nice snack. Or throw it away. Or use it to plant more strawberries (I know that’s not how strawberries work, metaphors break when stretched).  

#dirtbagwriter 

Go forth and MAKE

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Playin’ Games (Choso x Self-Insert!Reader 18+ One Shot) [COMMISSION FILL]

Pairing: Choso Kamo x Self-Insert!Reader (Friends to Lovers & Forbidden Love)

Synopsis: In which your brother's best friend calls from his business trip to play a game of truth or dare over a Skype call, but it quickly turns into something else once your brother heads to bed and naughty pics and strip teasing get involved.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+; No Curse AU; Reader is Black, Fem & Plus-Sized; Musician!Choso; Truth or Dare; Alcohol Consumption; Lowkey Flirting; Sending Nudes; Sexual Tension; Strip Tease; Fingering; Clit Stimulation; Facefucking; Blood Play; Feral MDom!Choso; fsub!Reader; Almost Caught; Sneaky Sex; Hold The Moan; Cowgirl; Spit Play; Spanking; Unprotected PIV Sex; Creampie; Aftercare 

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: Thank you again for @curiouscutie143 for asking me to write this for a commission & continuing to trust me to write about her fucking 2D animated characters lmaoo. I hope you enjoy! -Jazz

*******

“I dare you to go to the kitchen without using your feet.”  “How in the hell am I supposed to do that?” Choso asks, dumbfounded. 

“You’ve got an ass, dontcha?” your brother shoots back from behind his laptop. Choso looks at you and then at your brother, completely done. “What are you, twelve?” he scoffs.

Your brother smirks at the screen while you giggle in the background, busy scrolling on Twitter while you watch this stupid game unfold on Zoom. “Thirteen, actually,” he answers. “Now you finna do it or not?” 

Choso sighs, but pushes himself back from his computer desk in his spacious hotel suite and angles the camera to his MacBook Air down so you and your bro can see him. With his back to you, he lowers himself down to the ground and scoots to the kitchenette on his very toned and firm behind like a dog without once ever using his feet. 

Your bro laughs wildly at this, slapping his knee. “You look so dumb!” he cackles. You can’t help but giggle too, having watched them play ‘Truth or Dare’ on the app he and Choso are connected on for rounds. Despite being grown-ass adults, they’re still kids at heart. 

You can’t help but love their relationship. Despite Choso being larger than life as a musician and the opposite of your brother (stoic and quiet while your bro is wild and a damn near crackhead), he never once treated your bro any differently when he started blowing up. Their decade-old friendship has only grown over time. That includes making calls when Choso is on business trips. 

Right now, he is an hour away from where you are for a press conference tour. “It’s for a damn movie cameo,” he sighed when he told you and your bro the news. “It’s only for three days, but trust and believe, I don’t wanna go.” To keep him company, your bro called him in his hotel room and suggested a game to pass the time on a boring Saturday night. 

When he gets to the kitchen, Choso gets up and goes into the fridge for some chilled wine. You watch his muscles flex underneath his shirt and his toned ass in his sweats. His black hair is styled in a mullet and hangs slightly in his face, his piercings (one on the eyebrow, the other pierced in his bottom lip) glint at you, and his arms sinewy with muscles and ink always have the girls wet…including you.

He then walks back to his laptop and he sits back down.  “Y/N, how do you approve of your brother’s childish behavior?” he sighs as he pops open the wine.

“Because she’s just as childish as me,” your brother chuckles. You smack him on the arm. “Not true, dickhead,” you grumble. “Only because it’s fun watchin’ you do all of these stupid dares…plus I can see that those squats are workin’ for you, Choso.” 

Choso gives you an almost bashful smile while your brother gives you a disgusted look. “Ew, Y/N,” he comments. “Stop tryin’ to fuck my friend.” You gape at him, scoffing. “Says the main one who’s been tryin’ to fuck my friends since high school!” you scoff and kick at him. “Slut.” 

Choso laughs as your brother tries to hit you back, but knocks his beer over. He swears, jumping off of the couch and under the coffee table to clean it up. “Thank you, Y/N,” Choso says through the screen in that smooth, soft, deep voice you’re so addicted to. “Maybe one day, I’ll invite you to my kickboxing classes, though I think I’d be a better instructor.” You think you imagine it, but you believe you see him wink at you. 

“I’m sure you would,” you reply, not meaning it to come off so seductive, but it just does. You see his gorgeous eyes, dark and intoxicating, briefly flit down to your cleavage that has been exposed from under your robe. All you’re wearing underneath it are your sweats and a cami…without a bra. Though it’s your usual sleep attire, Choso’s gaze makes you feel like it’s lingerie. 

“Whatcha say, Y/N?” your bro asks. “You made me drop my damn beer!” He shoves you out of the way and you quickly close your robe. “Just about Choso possibly inviting me to a kickboxing class just to show me up.” 

Choso raises his hands in mock offense. “Guilty as charged,” he chuckles. “So whose turn is it now?” He jumps right back into the game like he wasn’t just flirting with you and eyeing down his best friend’s sister. 

That’s another thing that’s grown over time: your relationship with Choso. You’ve always had a crush on him, but since growing up, that crush has only intensified when you began to see how fine he was. You don’t recall quite when the flirting started, but when it did, neither one of you could stop. 

You couldn’t get enough of it: the sly looks at each other over your brother’s shoulder when you go out together or whenever Choso visits; the lowkey, flirtatious compliments you throw at each other; the playful arguments; the small touches on the arm or the back, innocent and comforting but exciting. You feel in your gut that Choso feels the same way you do for him, but you don’t dare bring it up or acknowledge your feelings because of your brother. It would make things too awkward and uncomfortable, you’re sure! So you keep quiet. 

You groan, tossing your phone aside once you look at the time: 9:15 PM. “Can y’all stop here for now? Y’all have been playin’ this for over an hour!” Your brother, tipsy, narrows his eyes at you. “Hell no!” he exclaims. “Drunk truth or dare is the best! And you not even playin’, so why are you complainin’ ‘bout it?” 

You glare at him and plunk him in the head with your thumb and forefinger. “Because, smartass, I have a meeting tomorrow morning at 8 AM and I need to be up at 7 to get ready.” Choso scowls at the idea of this as he sips his wine. “A work meeting on a Sunday?” he asks. “Where do you work, Y/N? In Hell?” 

“Yes,” you joke, earning the sexiest laugh you’ve ever heard from him. “It’s some kind of team meeting my office does every month to check in on everybody and see if we have any issues with the company. It’s fine, just as long as it’s virtual which it always is.” 

Choso smiles happily at you, the sight of it almost blinding and tortuous. Why is this man so fine yet so unavailable?! “Congrats again on that promotion! I knew you’d get in eventually. I’m sure it was the pencil skirts instead of your brains.” He smirks teasingly at you. “Oh, yes, definitely,” you giggle. “And the heels.” 

That piques Choso’s interest intensely. “Oh, heels, hm?” he thoughtfully hums. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in heels before.” 

Your brother rolls his eyes, not at all catching onto what’s happening between you two. “Can y’all stop talkin’ ‘bout shoes and get on with the next game?” he huffs. “It’s my turn!”

Choso’s eyes trail over to you sitting behind your brother, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Actually…Y/N, you sure you don’t wanna play? We can just do truths with you if you’re not comfortable with dares. I’d feel bad to see you just sittin’ there without playing one round.” 

“Uh…” You think about it for a moment. It couldn’t hurt, especially since you don’t go to bed until 10 PM. Plus, the look in Choso’s eyes is getting to you…like he wants you to stay. “Sure, why the hell not?” You shrug, earning a joyous smile. “Truth or dare then?” your brother asks.

You look at Choso, who is already looking at you, on the screen. “Truth.” Your bro presses the button on his phone and laughs at the truth prompt written. “Who was your childhood crush?” he reads. “No celebrities or 2D animated characters allowed. Damn, this app is stirrin’ the pot!” 

Your eyes widen, panic striking you. How are you supposed to answer that when the man sitting here on call with you is your childhood crush? Not to mention how awkward the truth would make things. “Uh…” You trail off, the silence thickening as the two wait for your response. 

You can almost feel Choso’s eyes burning into you. You look away to your bro instead to avoid breaking out into a sweat. “Don’t laugh,” you begin, “but it was my second-grade bully. I thought about kissing him so many times even though he kept pullin’ my braids in class.” 

“Oh, yeah, I remember that guy,” your brother responds. “You gave him that anonymous V-Day card you made in art class that one time in third grade, right?” You nod, giggling. “Yeah!” you laugh. “He told me he still had it in eighth grade! By that time, he was sweet.” 

“Well, that’s cute,” Choso’s says, sounding odd. You can’t put your finger on why. “I remember I got an anonymous V-Day card in third grade too, but never found out who it was. What a coincidence.” You chew on your bottom lip and your body becomes hot with shame for lying. Choso knows damn well that you a damn lie because you gave that anonymous V-Day card to him all those years ago. 

“I-I’m gonna go get a drink,” you weakly say and hurry from the couch to the kitchen. You’re glad to have some privacy and to pour yourself some wine from the fridge. You take three greedy sips, letting it calm your rapidly beating heart. You should’ve never agreed to do this. It’s too awkward. Too tense. Maybe going to bed is a better idea. Maybe– 

“Oh, shit!” your overly-dramatic brother yells out. Immediately, you run back into the living room after nearly dropping your glass. “What is it?” you huff. “What happened?” Your bro hands you his phone as he opens his second beer. “Read this dare for Choso!” he guffaws. 

You take the phone and read it aloud for Choso to hear: “‘I dare you to take a thirst trap photo and post it on all of your social media accounts.’.” You gape at Choso who looks just as perplexed as you. Why is this game so horny?! 

Your bro smirks at Choso on the laptop. “Well, you gon’ do it, Cho?” he cackles. “You’ve gotta do what the app says unless you too pussy.” The black-haired, tatted stud contemplates this as he sips his wine. 

“Don’t listen to him, Choso,” you huff, slapping your sibling on the back of the neck. “He’s just bein’ a dick as usual.” 

But Choso is already standing up, angling the computer camera up so you can see him. “Nah, I’ll do it. Have you ever known me as someone who backs down from a challenge, Y/N?” He gives you a slight wink that even you almost missed and your mouth goes dry like the Sahara desert when he reaches for his shirt. Before you realize it, you’re watching him lift his shirt over his head and expose his impressive, toned body. 

Inked abs. Tatted biceps. Pecs and pierced, pink nipples you want to suck on. Your eyes run greedily down his form as takes his phone and snaps a quick picture, the flash on his phone going off. “There, happy?” he asks. Your brother shakes his head. “Post it or it ain’t happen!” he demands. Choso rolls his eyes but does as he’s told and takes a moment to type some things on his phone. 

Minutes later, your and your bro’s phones go off, signaling the arrival of new notifications. Your brother erupts with laughter, throwing his head back. “There it goes!” he laughs. “Damn, Cho, you been workin’ out on your trip?” 

You go to IG and sure enough, there it is: the thirst trap that is now making rounds and generating thousands of likes and horny comments below. So many people talking about how they’d let Choso fold them like lawn chairs and use their holes up. You definitely understand and relate, your mind going to crazy places as you stare at his abs and his hair that you want to yank on while he fucks you. “Damn,” you whisper. 

“See somethin’ you like, Y/N?” Choso asks, his voice washing you in heat and tingles. You don’t look at him, too afraid that he’ll see you drooling or you may start fucking your brother’s laptop. You have no choice but to keep your thighs clamped shut and your mind straight despite the sips of wine you take as the game rolls on.

At some point, as time goes on, your brother gets tired and drags his drunk ass upstairs, leaving you and Choso alone. You feel like you should hang up the call and go to sleep, but you find yourself staying with your wine glass half empty. “So what are you gonna do now?” Choso asks after a beat of awkward silence. “Go to bed?” At this point, he has put his shirt back on, much to your dismay. 

“I’m more interested in talkin’ to you,” you say and then flush at your boldness. Usually, you’re not afraid to shoot your shot first, but to do it to Choso so brazenly makes you feel odd. Or maybe it’s just the wine talking. “I-I mean, it’s been a minute since we’ve seen each other, y’know?” 

Choso looks like he’s happy you made the first move regardless. He rests his chin on his knuckles, staring you down from behind the screen. “So what’s this about your childhood crush bein’ your bully?” he asks. You nearly choke as you sip your wine, feeling warmer and bubblier the more you drink. “Damn, you get straight to it.” 

Choso flushes, his pale skin turning red. “Sorry, it’s the alcohol. I can stop if you want me to, but it’s kinda buggin’ me, especially since my childhood crush was you for so many years…which I probably wouldn’t have said if it wasn’t for the wine.” 

You gape at him, shocked. “Really?” you softly ask. “I…didn’t know that.” He gives you a sheepish smile. “That’s ‘cause I didn’t want anyone to know,” he explains. “But we’re both grown and mature…most of the time, anyway. I think you can handle a little crush from when we were kids, right?” 

You go quiet, letting this information wash over you. Despite the flirting you would do behind your brother’s back, it hits different when you now know that without an inch of uncertainty, he’s felt the same way about you that you have always felt about him. “Y/N?” he asks, his soothing voice pulling you back to reality. He’s looking at you with those burning, passionate eyes. “Was that V-Day card I got from you?” Whether it’s the wine or his magnetic pull, you answer him: “Yeah,” you confess. 

“So that story of your bully was bullshit,” he chuckles. 

“Yeah,” you repeat because what else is there to say? Choso takes a sip of his wine, still staring you down from behind his laptop. “Whatcha wanna do, Y/N?” he asks. 

It’s a simple question, but the way he says it–so deep and seductive–makes something come alive inside of you. It makes your stomach flutter and your nipples harden beneath your top. He has put the ball completely in your court to either continue this little game or call it quits. You choose the latter. “I’ve got an hour before my bedtime,” you say, keeping your voice leveled. “How about another game?” 

Choso looks worried. “Don’t you have that meeting tomorrow?” he asks. “I wouldn’t want you to miss out on your rest.” You laugh, pouring yourself some more wine…which probably isn’t the best idea. “I once didn’t go to bed until 3 AM because I was binge-watching Korean dramas,” you giggle. “I think I can handle some rounds.” 

As soon as you say it, you realize how it sounds. Choso smirks to himself, tapping his finger against his desk. “Oh, can you?” he purrs. “We’ll see. Truth or dare, then?” You choose carefully, weighing your options. “Dare,” you decide. 

“I dare you to send me a pic of you in your favorite pumps,” he says without missing a beat. “If you’re comfortable with that. It can be an old pic or a new one. I ain’t picky.” He gives you a warm smile that’s supposed to be unnerving, but it only makes you feel more nervous. You weren’t expecting that dare, but then again, you opened the door to this. “O-Okay,” you stutter.

You proceed to scroll through your phone for the sexiest selfie you can find. You find one of you at a Christmas cocktail party for work in a dress that had heads turning and heels that made you feel like a straight vixen. Without a second thought, you send it over to Choso. There is a ding from his phone and, for a moment, only silence. “Did you get it?” you nervously ask. 

Choso is staring at his phone, not moving an inch. “Yeah, I got it,” he answers, his voice light and breathy. “Damn, Y/N, how the fuck are you single?” His question makes butterflies flutter rapidly in your stomach. 

You then get a ding from your phone and look down to see the thirst trap photo in your messages. “Oh, you sent me your thirst trap privately, huh?” you chuckle, not looking up, so you don’t see Choso taking another very risque photo of himself. “I feel so special.” 

“I sent you somethin’ else too.” The way he says it is like sex to you. Sure enough, a second attachment comes in. You open it and nearly choke on your wine: Choso leaning back against his computer desk, a hand resting on the outline of his very big, very hard, and very obvious bulge beneath his pants. Your lips part in shock, your eyes widening as big as saucers. 

“Too much?” he asks, worried that he went too far. As if learning how to function again, you shake your head. “No,” you exhale. “It’s just…big.” You wonder how it’d feel in your hands…or in your mouth…or in another throbbing hole that is bothering you between your thighs. “So I’ve been told,” he sniggers. “I’m guessing it’s up to your liking, then?” 

You don’t know why that turns you on–the idea that he’s so interested in whether or not he turns you on–but you find yourself scrolling through your camera roll again and picking one of your faves: a mirror photo of you laid out on your bed on your stomach, your ass tooted up in the air in a thong while the rest of you is naked, your juicy breasts squished against the mattress under you. “Maybe this will tell you so,” you purr and hit send. “I had this saved in my camera ‘cause I looked so hot in it.” 

Ding! Choso looks down at his phone and the way he bites his lip makes you drip. “And that you do,” he exhales. “And I’ll ask you again: how the fuck are you single? Shit, princess.” 

You bite your own lip, struggling to control yourself. “You’re makin’ me blush,” you giggle. “You know, it looks much better in person.” You pause, scolding yourself and the wine for making you so damn bold. 

Choso’s eyes light up with interest. “Oh, yeah?” he asks, practically tossing his phone aside. “I think I should be the judge of that.” He leans into the camera, making your heart pound. “Take that off,” he demands, nodding at your robe. “It’s just me, Y/N.” 

Yes, just him. Just your brother’s best friend. Just the man you’ve known since childhood and have been crushing on for years. But something in his eyes makes you realize that you can trust him with anything. So you rise from the couch and slowly slip off your rope in front of the camera. Choso watches, drinking in every move you make. You then turn around and slip off your pants, revealing your panties swallowed by your magnificent ass to him. “Is this okay?” you softly ask. 

You turn back to face him and he looks damn pained as he stares at your behind. “Fuck,” he gasps. “It’s more than okay. I’m so tempted to jump in my car and pull up right now.” You scoff with laughter, but at the look in his eyes, you can tell he’s dead-ass. 

“Wait, you would?” you gasp. “But…it’s the middle of the night and we’re an hour away!” His eyes flick up to meet yours, firm and not up for the bullshit. “If it’s something you want too, I’d drive to you if you were a week away,” he softly growls, conviction in his words. “I can come over tonight, Y/N, but it’s only if you want me to.” 

You gape at him, silenced. You can’t believe this is happening! This is beyond your wildest, wettest dreams! And yet your mind drifts to your brother. If you do this, will it change things? Wouldn’t he hear you? Would he find out? You’d feel so guilty if things were to change between him and Choso because of you. And yet… 

“I…I want you to,” you decide. “I really do, but what about my brother?” He shakes his head, chuckling to himself. “If he’s wasted, he can sleep through a tornado. Nothing has to happen if you’re nervous about that, but I’d like to see you.” 

And those words, sweet and considerate yet honest, are what make you fold. “I’ll leave the door unlocked. Get here in sixty.” Choso nearly knocks over the table as he shoots up from his desk. “Thirty ‘cause I’ll be doing sixty,” he growls. “Don’t move from that spot.” He blows you a kiss and ends the call, leaving you feeling drunk despite not having sipped that much wine. 

Already tipsy and feeling the alcohol’s effects on your body (tingly nipples; brief dizziness; horny thoughts), you switch it out with some water and sip on that while you clean up the living room. You busy yourself wiping down the kitchen countertops, straightening up the couch cushions, and cleaning up your slob of a brother’s beer cans. By the time you finish, thirty minutes have passed and anticipation hits you like a truck. 

Where is he? He hasn’t called you yet. What if he’s in traffic? What if something happened? What if he changed his mind? What if– 

A ding from your phone makes you jump and you race to answer it, seeing a text message waiting for you: 

Chosi: Hey, I’m outside

*read at 11:12 PM* 

You roughly swallow and close your robe before walking to answer the door. Choso is standing behind it when you open it, dressed in a jacket and jeans that fill him out so well. You both smile at each other, happy to see one another despite the circumstances.

“Uh, c-come in,” you stammer. He thanks you and walks inside, the scent of his cologne making your kitty purr wildly. You shut the door and shuffle behind him as he strips off his jacket. “You want somethin’ to drink?” ” you ask, nervously wringing your hands.  

Choso looks back at you as he hangs up his jacket on the coat rack near the door, his arms talking to you. He turns toward you fully, giving you a good look at how tight his top is on his body. “Do you want me to have somethin’ to drink?” he questions. 

You bite your lip, the silence mixed with the sexual tension too much. “No,” you breathe. He then saunters up to you, stopping when your nose is nearly brushing his chest. “I’m gonna ask you again if you want this, Y/N,” he whispers. “We can stop here and I can leave.” You look up into his eyes–those firm, beautiful eyes–and trail your hands up his chest. “No, don’t,” you plea. “Don’t leave.” 

His hands softly caress your sides, moving across your waist. “Tell me what you want,” he murmurs into your ear, his minty breath fanning across your cheek. Your eyes flutter shut, his seductive ways finally getting to you. “I want you,” you answer through a dry mouth. “I want this.” 

That’s all he needs to hear. His lips are on yours immediately and you nearly melt. His kiss is sweet and soft yet passionate, making you feel like you’re in a Disney movie when the princess finally kisses her prince. His hands move down to your ass, squeezing it, emitting a moan from you. Pulling away, he moves down to your neck and peppers it in kisses, coaxing you to tilt your head back for more. 

“You have no fuckin’ right to be this hot,” he growls against your neck. “Makin’ me feel this fuckin’ crazy.” 

He pushes against you, insisting that you feel his hard-on in his jeans. “Choso, please,” you mewl. “I need you.” You grip his shirt, imploring him to understand how goddamn horny you are. He pulls away and smirks down at you, chortling. “So impatient. Did those pictures rile you up?” He doesn’t need an answer. Instead, he sits down on the couch with his leg spread, staring up at you in hunger. “Get naked for me.” 

Like a puppet on a string, you do as he says and slowly take off your rope. Then it’s your top and bottoms. Then the undies. The more you take off, the harder Choso gets, forming a more obvious bulge in his pants as he stares you down. When you’re finally done and standing naked in front of him, he sits back against the cushions and pats his lap. 

You feel somewhat weird about it since Choso is so much smaller than you in terms of size, but the man welcomes all of your rolls, curves, and softness when you sit down in his lap naked while he remains clothed. “Your pictures do not do you any justice, babe,” he murmurs before leaning in to kiss, suck, and lap at your nipples. You moan, your hands tangling in his mullet. “So sexy,” he whispers against your nipples. “I’ve wanted to do this for so, so long.” 

His fingers toy with your plushy thighs and ass, squeezing the flesh to his liking. “Me too,” you moan. He chuckles against your nipple, nibbling at it with his teeth. “Yeah? You’ve dreamed of me touchin’ you like this?” His hand is suddenly probing your thighs open to toy with your pussy, his fingers gently rubbing your clit. 

You gasp, not being able to control your body. You find yourself sitting fully on his lap, your back to his front, with your legs wide open while he toys with your sobbing, wet cunt. You drip all over his jeans the more he rubs you, creating more and more wetness that floods over your pussy lips. “F-Fuck, Choso!” you whine, the pleasure just too much. 

“Hush, baby,” he chuckles. “I appreciate you bein’ so responsive, but your brother is right upstairs. You wouldn’t want him to come down to find my fingers stuffed in that pussy, would you?” You’re confused, feeling his fingers still on your clit. “B-But you don’t–” 

Your voice is cut off by a moan when he suddenly sticks one finger inside of you, using his palm to rub your needy, throbbing clit as he finger fucks you. “That’s better,” he laughs into your ear. “Oooh, that pussy is so tight for me. Have you been wantin’ me to this to you, baby?” He curls his finger up against your G-spot and you swear you almost cum. “Tell me,” he demands. 

“Yes!” you sob. “Yes, Chosi, I wanted this so bad!” Feral, Choso moans into your ear as he feels you squeeze and squelch around his digit. “You’re too fuckin’ cute,” he says, his voice strained and rough. “I wanna see the face you make when you cum. Can you take another finger for me, babe?” 

You nod and your pussy flutters around his magical finger, only getting worse when he inserts another one to fuck you silly. You cover your mouth as moans and whimpers escape you, loving how full you feel. You can only imagine how full you’d feel with his cock finally inside of you. The image brings you closer to the edge and Choso can feel it. 

“Cum for me, baby, c’mon,” he coos. “Cum on your brother’s best friend’s fingers like a good little girl.” You have to bite your lip to keep from crying out when you explode all over his digits. 

Your moans and cries are muffled by your mouth as you cum all over Choso’s fingers, coating him in your cream. He hums appreciatively and kisses your cheek, slowly stroking your walls as you come down from your high. He finally slips his fingers out of you and puts them up to your lips soaked in your cum. “Taste yourself.” You do so, opening your mouth and letting him insert his digits into your mouth where you swirl your tongue around them and suck on your juices. 

“Shit,” Choso groans, grinding himself up into you. You gasp, feeling his hardened cock pushing against you. “I can feel that you liked that,” you giggle. He hums in agreement, gripping your hips as he continues to roll himself into you. “Can I…see it?” you carefully ask, teeming with excitement. 

He coaxes you to get up off of his lap and face him. “You’ll have to take it out then,” he murmurs, giving you a stare as hot as molten lava in the dimly lit living room. “Take what you want, Y/N.”

With a fire burning inside of you, you take off his pants and boxers while he strips off his shirt, tossing it aside somewhere. When his hard, pulsing cock finally pops up, you have never been more happy to finally see a dick. He’s absolutely beautiful with smooth skin and a toned stomach leading down to that gorgeous cock. 

You settle onto your knees, ready to give him head to last him into next winter. “Your knees okay?” he worriedly asks. Before you can answer, he pulls you up and sits you down on the couch. “Here, switch with me. I want you comfortable.” You flush at his sweetness, never having received such care. “Such a gentleman,” you softly laugh. 

Choso gives you a sheepish smile. “I try. Now where were we?” he stands over you, appearing like an Adonis statue with tattoos and a thick cock in your face. 

You stand up on your knees on the couch, your greedy hands stroking up and down his body. “Your pictures don’t do you justice either,” you purr, running your palms down his toned, well-defined abs. “How you’re single is a mystery to the world, Sho.” You wrap a hand around him, beginning to stroke his cock up and down, up and down. 

Choso bites his lip, looking like he’s been waiting for this moment to finally come. “I didn’t want nobody else,” he softly moans. “I’ve always wanted you.” Overjoyed and completely horny, you give his cockhead a peck and then a kitten lick. “Tell me more,” you beg before you envelop him in your mouth. You immediately go to work, hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head as you pump him in and out of your mouth. 

“Fuck,” he sighs, tossing his head back. “I-I’ve always wanted you, but–oh, God, babe, yes–I never said anything in fear of ruinin’ things with your brother.” You pop off of his cock, spit connecting his head to your lower lip. “Well, he doesn’t have to know,” you whisper. “We can take things slow.” He raises a brow at you. “This is takin’ things slow?” he chuckles. 

You giggle, still pumping his cock with your hand. “After this,” you laugh. “I want you too bad to stop.” You lower your mouth on him again, swallowing him whole.

“I guess a date is on the table for us then,” he groans. “Especially when you look that good on your knees.” He watches you continue to swallow his dick whole, flicking your pink tongue along the head and swirling along the throbbing vein trailing from his head to his heavy balls that you fondle. 

“Look up at me,” he demands. “Keep lookin’ at me while I fuck pretty face.” You do so and open your throat, allowing him to fuck your face. He grabs the back of your head as he does so, nailing his hips into your face again and again, his balls slapping your chin. He tosses his head back, overwhelmed by the feeling of your magical mouth sucking him dry. 

It doesn’t take him long to go faster, gripping your hair to allow him to pump his cock down your throat like it’s his personal toy. You feel your pussy throb at the sound of his soft moans and the gagging coming from your own mouth, wanting desperately for him to cum. “Fuck, baby,” he groans. “You ‘bout to make me cum! I-I’m gonna–” 

“Choso?” your brother suddenly calls. Choso freezes and you tear yourself away from him, your stomach flipping in absolute fear. From the steps, you see the hallway light flicker on and your brother’s shadow against the wall. ‘Shit,’ you think. You try to scramble away to hide, but Choso stops you, putting a finger to his lips. “Just keep quiet,” he whispers. “And keep suckin’.” 

His dark eyes flash with mischief and lust as his heavy cock bobs in your face. Tentatively, you place your lips around him again and proceed to suck on him. “Yeah, bro?” he calls, keeping his voice impressively normal. “Yeah, it’s me.” His hand once again finds your head, gently pushing you down farther to muffle the sounds of your wet, lewd sucks. 

“When the fuck did you get here?” your brother asks. “Why you here?” Choso bites his lip at the sensations you’re giving him, loving how your plump lips look wrapped around his dick. “Uh…just decided to visit ‘cause I was bored in that hotel,” he lies. “Y/N let me in before she went to bed. She let me sleep on the couch after I promised to make you guys pancakes tomorrow morning.” 

His hand reaches over to give your ass a quick spank, making you jump, mostly at the possibility of your brother hearing it. He doesn’t. “That’s cool with me,” he replies, sounding excited about the promise of food. “Lemme see you real quick though. I feel like it’s been ages since we–” 

“No, no, don’t!” Choso panics, gripping the back of your head to keep you still. “I look real bad, man, and I wouldn’t wanna break your sleep routine. Just go back to bed! I’ll see you in the morning when we both don’t look like shit.” He and you share a wide-eyed look, both scared shitless but also not wanting to stop. 

“Alright,” your brother decides. “But I want my pancakes!” You sigh in relief, feeling Choso do the same. “Alright, man, fine. Just go to bed.” You look up the stairs and see the hallway light flicker off. You stop sucking, listening intently to your brother’s footsteps as he shuffles back into his bedroom. Finally, the bedroom door closes and you hear silence. Choso pauses, waiting with bated breath. 

You pop him out of your mouth and sit up, spit dribbling from your lips and your hair a mess. “He’s asleep,” you tell him. “I know: he gets real quiet when he’s asleep.” He looks beyond relieved by that, but still appears worried. “Do you wanna keep going?” he asks, wiping some spit from your lower lip. His touch burns your skin. 

Your pussy throbs insistently, pushing you to give her what she needs. “Yes,” you whisper. “We just have to keep quiet.” Choso smiles, bringing you close to him. “I know a thing about quiet cumming,” he chuckles. “I don’t wanna do it down your throat though. I need you fuck you, baby…if you want that too.” 

You nearly cum right there. “Yes,” you softly moan as he begins to kiss your neck. “Yes, Choso, baby, I want that.” You’ve wanted that for so, so long! So many nights of dreaming about him in your bed have finally led to this. He pulls away, giving you a look dripping with molten lust. “Get on top then,” he whispers. “I wanna see you bounce on my cock.” 

You don’t need to be told twice. He lies back on the couch and keeps comfortable before patting his muscular thighs for you. Softly giggling, you get on top and straddle him before wrapping a hand around his cock and slowly guiding him toward your pussy lips. You glide his head against your slit for a moment, teasing him and earning some luscious whimpers. “Please, baby, don’t tease me,” he begs. “Just put it in.”

You shiver, loving the sound of his pathetic begging. You’re half inclined to keep going just to hear him plea and beg for your pussy, but you’re too horny to do so. So instead, you slowly slip him between your wet, slippery folds. You gasp and brace your hands against his chest, feeling him stretch you. He pauses, searching your face for any sign of pain or discomfort. “I’m okay,” you whisper, giving him a wobbly smile. 

He takes your hips, holding them securely. “You take the reins then,” he says. “Ride me, baby. I’m yours, so take it like you need it.” And so you do. With his big hands gripping your hips, you begin to rock and grind against his cock while your fingers rub your clit. The sensations are indescribable. You can’t help but moan and sob at the pleasure though you have to keep each sound hushed. 

Choso is losing it below you, overwhelmed by the sight of your perfect titties and stomach jiggling with every move you make. “Fuck, baby,” he whispers, his voice strained from the sheer pleasure. “You feel so fuckin’ good on top of me. Does it feel good for you too?” 

Vigorously, you nod, biting your lip so hard that you nearly dra​​w blood. “Yes!” you whimper. “You’re so good, Choso! You feel amazing inside me!” The p​​roud smile that stretches across Choso’s face is almost comical, loving that it’s his cock making you feel this good. For so long, he’s wondered how you’d feel and look fucking him. And now that he finally has it, he’s going to make it last. 

He sits up and holds you flush against him, your titties squishing against his chest and his cock sinking deeper into you. Your jaw goes slack and you have to cover your mouth to keep from wailing out in pleasure. “Keep it down, baby doll,” he chuckles in your ear. “You wouldn’t want your bro to come downstairs and see you gettin’ that pussy filled by his buddy, would you?” 

You don’t answer, too busy riding him like a stolen car and rubbing your clit against his pelvis. He fucks you back, moaning and whimpering into your ear while his cock drives into you again and again, hitting a spot inside of you that turns you into an animal. You grip his shoulders and back, digging your nails into him. Your nails dig into his back so hard that they puncture his skin and leave long, jagged, angry red lines up and down his back muscles. 

If Choso is in any pain, he pretends like he isn’t. Instead, he just keeps fucking you, grinding his hips into yours in one passionate, pleasurable, sweaty dance that quickly sends you over the edge.

“Choso,” you whine. “I’m gonna cum! I-I can’t…” Your voice dies, too lost in the blinding ecstasy. “Bite me,” he demands. His dark eyes stare into yours, begging you. “C’mon, baby, it’s okay. I fuckin’ want it.” 

Though alarmed, the pleasure begins to reach its peak, especially when Choso tells you to lean back and begins to rub your clit​​ in small, fast circles. “Cum for me, Y/N,” he whispers. “Do it. Give it to me.” To muffle your moans, you do as he says and bite his shoulder, sinking your teeth into the skin so hard that you break skin. 

Choso grunts at the pain, but you also feel him throb and grow harder inside you. Could it be possible that he likes that freaky shit? You have no time to wonder as your orgasm washes over you, making you buck and writhe in his arms. He holds you against him, giving you something to grab onto as the mindblowing orgasm finally fades. “Better?” he chuckles.

You blink at him, your vision adjusting, and finally see the bloody bite mark on his shoulder. “No!” you gasp. “Look at your skin! I’m so–” 

“Don’t.” Choso shakes his head, firm and dead serious. “I love that shit. Seein’ you like that was so fuckin’ hot.” Once again, you feel his cock throb inside you and shudder. So he is a freak!

“I can feel that,” you purr. “You’ll need help with that, won’t you?” 

Choso looks so happy that you even volunteered. “Turn around,” he demands, his voice low and intoxicating. With a soft moan, you slip off of him and twist around so your ass is in his face. He gives you another spank before dipping down to lightly run his teeth against the soft, fleshy globes and nibble on them. Ass bites. How did he know you love ass bites?!

His ministrations get your pussy throbbing again, especially when he holds his cock up for ​​you to settle down on. “Sit on it,” he whispers and you do, both of you gasping as his cock sinks into your pussy that is even wetter from your second orgasm. “I’m gonna cum you till I cum, okay?” he breathlessly asks. “Can you handle that?” 

“Yes, sir,” you whimper, the last word slipping out. That makes Choso go completely feral. He doesn’t talk for a while as he fucks you stupid from the back, but he doesn’t have to. The way he grips your shit and nails his hips into your backside makes your pussy talk to him, your walls squeezing and gushing around his thick cock. You have to bite a cushion to keep from wailing like a banshee at the way he’s fucking you from behind, the soft clapping of your ass against his thighs making you crazy. 

He then tugs you toward him so your back is to his front as he continues to fuck you. His lips attach themselves to your neck, sucking harshly at your tender skin. You weakly moan at the feeling, wincing slightly when his teeth bite into your skin a little too hard. You feel a wetness that Choso quickly licks away, peppering you with kisses.

“You’re so perfect,” he groans, his breath tinged with the metallic scent of your blood. “So fuckin’ mine. I wanna cum in this pussy so bad.” 

You can feel it. And you want it. “Do it,” you plea. “Please, Choso, cum in me! I’m so close!” Your hand begins to rub your swollen clit once more, desperate to cum with him.

Luckily, it doesn’t take too long and Choso warns you when it happens. He grips you tight to him and ruts into you like an animal, whining as he does. “Gonna cum!” he pants. “Gonna fuckin’ cum in you! Take it all!” 

His cum erupts inside of you like a warm river flooding your insides. He muffles his moans by pressing his face into your neck, gripping your b​​ody tight to him as if he is afraid you’ll disappear. You cum right after him, triggered by his slutty sounds, and dig your face into the cushion as you moan and sob. Your pussy flutters and squelches around him as you cream around his cock, creating a ring around the base that marks him as yours. Yours. Finally. 

Once your orgasms fade, you share a chaste, exhausted kiss and he gently slips out of you, causing all of his cum to drip down your thighs. Quickly, he grabs a few tissues from the kitchen and cleans you up before tossing them in the trash. Once finished, he lies on his side with you facing him, both of you taking up the couch. “Wow,” he pants, his toned body still soaked in sweat. 

You slowly nod, the gravity of what you just did sinking in. “Yeah,” you chuckle. “You’ll have to visit more often on business trips.” He chuckles at your little joke, but his smile quickly fades. “So…you’re okay with this?” he carefully asks. “With us?” He looks down at you, worry in his soulful eyes. 

You weigh your options for a moment, understanding what is at stake here…but the feeling of his heart pounding against your fingertips sways you to the side of temptation and what could possibly be. “I am if you are,” you murmur, too embarrassed to look up at him. “I mean, of course, we can go slow if you want. I know we just did that, but we were also tipsy and–” 

“Stop,” he interrupts, pressing a finger to your lips. You look up into his eyes and feel like you’re falling. “I want whatever you want, Y/N, and if you’re okay with us being together despite your brother, then I’m down for it. I’ve been wanting this for so long.” And to hear that makes you realize that you’ve made the right choice. With a happy giggle, you lean up to kiss him before cuddling him tight. “I want that too,” you whisper, snuggling into his chest. 

You feel warm, kept, and safe. As he snuggles in close to you, you smile as you drift off to sleep and continue smiling as the night goes on. You stay like that, the two of you, until the morning comes and Choso leaves you to sleep while he gets dressed and goes to the kitchen to whip up the pancakes he promised your brother the night before. 

You awaken on the couch, naked with the sun pouring through the blinds. Immediately, you remember: your meeting! You look at the clock, sighing in relief when you find that it’s only 6 AM. You have time. You won’t be fired! 

 You hear Choso in the kitchen whisking pancake batter and sizzling eggs in a pan. The scent of breakfast cooking coaxes you off of the couch and you grab your rope before slowly walking upstairs. The ache of your body and the muscles that you haven’t used in a minute makes you smile to yourself, loving that this ache is from something other than the gym. 

You’re glad you decided to cover yourself up when you run into your brother standing in the bathroom brushing his teeth in his sweats. “Hey, you,” you greet him. “You’re up early? You got a girl comin’ over or somethin’?” 

He smirks at you, his mouth coated in foam. “Nah, Choso promised me pancakes.” His eyes flick up and down your form. “Why are you up early?” You tap your wrist where an imaginary watch sits. “Meeting, remember? So hurry up with that so I can brush my teeth.” You turn to walk into your bedroom, needing some deodorant and fresh clothes. 

“And cover them hickeys,” your brother adds. You immediately stop, frozen. 

“As happy as I am that you finally bit the bullet and got together with Choso after pinin’ after him for so long, I’m sure your boss would ask questions.” You turn and look at him, finding him smiling knowingly at you from the bathroom. 

“Breakfast is ready!” Choso calls. “Come down if you wanna eat!” 

Your brother laughs at you as he shuts the bathroom door, leaving you standing there in a deer in headlights. Well…at least he isn’t mad. 

THE END. 

[absolutepokemontrash]

The Types of Obey Me Character Fans:

(All of you are valid, and I am equally afraid of all of you)

Lucifer

“Look at this tragic, broken, man, I am either going to fix him or irreversibly damage him, I haven’t decided yet.”

OH YOU FUCKING KNOW THE OTHER TYPE.

“You are my daaaaaad! You’re my dad! Boogie woogie woogie!”

Mammon

This man is innocent. He has done nothing wrong ever. I love him. I will pet him gently for 88 minutes straight. That is my husband. That is my sweet blorbo.

This man is guilty of all crimes and I will be persecuting him to the fullest extent of the angst laws.

Haha funny greed boy hangs from the ceiling :3

Leviathan

I will be this man’s discord kitten. I want to sit on his lap while he plays God of War and does a bad impression of Kratos. I will let him infodump to me until the inevitable heat death of the universe because I love him so much.

WHEN ARE WE GONNA SEE LEVI IN HIS UNIFORM-

I’m forcibly shoving him outside to touch some grass out of love for him.

Satan

My husband is done so dirty by the writing, I will write essay after essay dissecting and explaining his character to a cold, uncaring internet, but that’s okay because my love for him will keep this fire burning-

Heehoo angry catboy nerd annoys Lucifer, and I love him

Satan please lose your shit and go feral, it’s sexy.

Asmodeus

That is my wife, my boyfriend, my side bitch, my everything. I want to be him. I love him. He’s done so dirty by the writing of the game and by a good chunk of the fanbase, I will love and cherish him as he deserves and destroy all his insecurities… or write a depressing amount of angst for him.

What a fine young man.

I would love to see him covered in the blood of his enemies.

He may not be my favourite but BOY HOWDY IS HE IN THE TOP THREE AND I WONT SHUT UP ABOUT IT.

Beelzebub

I love him deeply but how in the ever loving FUCK do I write for him-

Food himbo who’s pure and innocent and has never done anything wrong in his life-

THIS MAN HAS MADE NUMEROUS COMMENTS ABOUT EATING MC BUT I DONT CARE BECAUSE LOOK AT THAT PRECIOUS FACE-

Belphegor

Ugh, look at him. Disgusting. He has not bathed in seven years. I’m going to spray him with the hose.

I am single handedly the kinkiest fuck in this fandom. The horny Lucifer stans WISH they were as depraved as me.

I love him so much and I will cherish him above all things.

————————-

Tag yourself, I’m every kind of Mammon fan and 1 and 2 of Asmo’s fans.

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Hey! I just wanted to rant/thirst to you about Freminet, so spoiler warning for some of his locked/upcoming voice lines bc I’m going absolutely insane over how he manages to flirt so submissively. Freminet may be truly sweet and innocent, but you can’t tell me that he isn’t purposefully advertising his subby nature. This guy automatically declines tasks from ppl other than his family, but offers himself up to “be of some use to you” in the first greeting 🤨. He straight up asks for orders with zero shame but it’s really the subtle things that are making me obsessed. I can’t really explain properly but it’s kind of like how a brat baits a dom into being more aggressive except he does it in a soft way?? He’s almost one of those mildly manipulative uwu boys going “I’m so shy 🥺👉👈 plz fuck me.”

Example A: Probably the best known example of this is one of his ascension lines where he goes “You didn't have to do this for me, you know. I'd obey you regardless.” Wtf bro, you can’t just say that?!? Being a bad liar doesn’t excuse you from not even trying to hide the horny. Please stop before I bend you over. I know some ppl interpret this as sad but imo it’s one of the most boldly sexual things to come out of his mouth.

Example B: Freminet mentions always having a home at the House of Hearth. And when you ask him to join your party he either says “At your command.” or eagerly asks us to take him (with us). But in the last option he replies with “Well, *fake ass sigh* I’ve got nowhere to go…” like he’s actively fantasizing about us making him come (along). I can just tell he’s smiling while saying this shit, he ain’t slick.

Example C: In an upcoming event the Traveler jokes about wanting to try on his helmet. Immediately the whore behavior jumps out and Freminet responds with “Well, if it’s an order…” Then there’s legit an option to say back “Yep, that’s an order”. Excuse me?!? Are you fucking kidding?!? I am actually gonna go feral rn. Like ofc Paimon interrupts saying “Hey, now’s not the time!” Paimon knows Freminet won’t get anything done once I slut him out like he’s obviously begging to be. “We don’t want to bother him now.” Bother him??? Bitch, he won’t be able to talk or walk once I’m done with him.

Anyways, that’s the end of my rant, but like wtf Genshin? Atp they might as well just let us give the kinky mf a contract and a collar

Bonus Points: The way Freminet will use his soft, raspy voice to randomly bust out a line more romantic than the actual poet characters in-game is crazy. Traveler just said goodnight like a normal person, wdym "May your dreams be as dazzling as the starry night above the ocean, and your dreamless nights be naught but filled with serene respite." Excuse me Prince Charming, how the hell am I supposed to go to bed without you in it now?

HKJFKSFSBDKDJSF

Anon please, I thoroughly enjoyed your analysis and now I cannot unhear these voice lines as anything except subby begging behavior 😵‍💫

Freminet has us all whipped with his pretty voice, short-shorts, and flirting. He knows exactly what he's doing and has no shame, it seems

[tourettesdog]

I am having extremely specific and niche ideas I must share. Specifically headcanons for Danny Phantom characters playing World of Warcraft

I feel like Sam would have been the first of them to get into WoW. Something other to play than Doomed, with a heavier focus on questing. She'd play on a PVP server and would be something of a legend on her realm.

She'd pretty much do everything, from hardcore raiding, to achievement hunting, to a little roleplaying on the side with friends.

She'd have two characters she swaps between, a troll warlock and an undead rogue, and would have the most min-maxed gear she can possibly get at all times. A "for the Horde!" girlie all the way. The warlock has tailoring/enchanting for professions, and the rogue mining/jewelcrafting, and she's got every recipe she can get her hands on for both.

I could see Sam trying to get Tucker and Danny into WoW, only to be wildly disappointed with their character decisions as both of them cozy up Alliance-side on a roleplaying realm.

-

Tucker takes one glance at worgen and goes "I'm gonna be a fucking werewolf" and it's all over from there. His main would be a guardian/feral druid (tank and melee dps) with the corniest RP name you've ever seen, and he loves them dearly. He's always looking for new transmog to dress up with, and he takes his mining/engineering professions a little too seriously. He mostly plays with Danny, but probably has a horde alt Sam forced him to make so they could actually play together before cross-faction became a thing (I am being intentionally Vague about what expansions they'd be playing in).

Tucker's horde alt would be a tauren druid that ALSO runs engineering. Pretty much the same character, especially considering he spends 90% of his time in animal forms.

-

Danny would start off playing a night elf monk and would get more into the RP of it than he ever wants to openly admit. He loves all of the flips and shit the monks do, and he's all in on the night elf aesthetic. He swaps between mistweaver and windwalker (healer and DPS), depending on what him and Tucker need to get shit done. He doesn't really focus a lot on the professions, instead going for dual gathering with mining and herbalism so he just has a lot of rocks and plants to throw at Tucker or onto the auction house.

After the accident though, Danny takes a long, staring look at death knights and decides he needs to play one-- for the memes. He's dogshit at it after playing monk for so long, but you can pry his frost (dps) death knight from his cold, half-dead hands.

The DK is just another night elf and when he's RPing, Danny likes to say it's the same character as the monk.

(Also I specifically think that Danny would play a nelf instead of a draenei because, as a trans Danny truther, I feel like the too-buff male draeneis would be a little Much for him, and the femme ones would be too dysphoric.)

-

Val would very begrudgingly start playing WoW with them once she joins Team Phantom. She'd go Horde-side with Sam, with a tauren warrior decked head to toe in red. She quickly gets sucked into the game, and gets a little intense with farming for all of the things she wants-- mounts, cool transmog, some battle pets. She likes to do a lot of content alone, finding it fun to just go off questing, but she'll let herself be dragged into dungeons ever now and then. She just doesn't have the time or energy for raiding consistently.

Val winds up making a bunch of different alts eventually to keep collecting shit, and she gets scary good at gold farming so she can pay for her subscription with in-game currency. She's got a bunch of different professions she runs on her various alts, but the warrior's got mining/blacksmithing since the idea of making her own armor won her out.

-

Dani plays on a laptop bought with Vlad's money, on a subscription also bought with Vlad's money. She takes one look at Val and Sam playing Horde-side and decides there is no other side to play.

She mains a vulpera hunter and is a troll through and through. She lives up to the hunter stereotype of accidentally pulling everything, but makes up for it by being scary good at DPS and PVP. Her and Val do a lot of mog and mount farming together, and some of her favorite things to collect are the battle pets and toys. She's got Meerah's Jukebox (a toy that plays a song about alpacas before exploding) hotkeyed to drop at a moment's notice.

She winds up getting a little too invested in alchemy, insisting she needs to be good at making goop.

-

Wes would not play WoW, and would instead play FFXIV and would never shut up about how much better it is than WoW.

Bonus:

Lancer plays a lot of WoW during the summer when school is out. He's got a human mage who looks a bit like a buff version of him that he's been playing since the game released, and he's got all sorts of achievements and collectibles held onto from that era. He runs herbalism/inscription as a profession, and has every recipe for it under the sun. He still insists on riding his first horse mount that he ever got, and it has a Shakespearean name.

[roosterbruiser]

I am way, way early for sleepover day butttt this popped into my head and I’m curious to see what you can do with “This is my wife, Dr. Bradshaw. She’s been accused of stirring the pot before.”

(I, an aspiring PhD, am FERAL for being called doctor. I’m also curious what Dr. Bradshaw did. If it doesn’t spark inspo, are you studying anything? What was your favorite subject in school?)

standing at the bar, a smile tugging on your lips as the suns sinks into the ocean just outside, you sigh a happy sigh. you're off work for the next several days--which rarely happens--and that means you can spend every waking moment with your hunk of a husband.

he's currently losing a game of pool to Phoenix, who's tickled pink that you're here so Bradley won't pout all night, and stealing glances at you whenever he can chance it.

God, does he look good, too--that dumb Hawaiian shirt that really must have some sort of magic in it, a tight white t-shirt, blue jeans. he's tan and happy and warm and everything in the world that you love. and you're fairly certain that isn't just the Long Island iced teas talking. being married for the past three years hasn't really changed much at all for the two of you--you still daydream about him like a ditzy teenager. and he still gets flustered when you catch his gaze and wink--it's one of the things you love most about him; how easy you can make him blush.

"isn't he handsome?" you ask out loud to no one in particular--and you're fairly certain that it is because of the Long Island iced teas.

Jake Seresin happens to be standing beside you, waiting for Penny to finish up with another customer so he can get his first whiskey sour of the night, and he glances at you when he hears the dreamy lilt in your tone.

shit--you're hot. he doesn't know how he didn't notice you here before. for a quick minute, he racks his brain, trying to place you. he knows you're familiar--maybe a past fling or a match on tinder--but nothing's calling out to him.

he gives you a once-over, a sly one, and notices a few things: the way your breasts strain against the fabric of your tee shirt, the gloss over your eyes, the way those jeans hug your hips, and a wedding ring.

he follows your gaze to Bradley, who's gaping as Phoenix absolutely demolishes him in pool without so much as breaking a sweat, and frowns.

"eh," Jake answers, shrugging. he turns and catches your gaze, his brows slightly knit. "he's married, anyway."

oh. you recognize this guy from all of Bradley's stories--this is Jake. Hangman. you two seem to always just miss each other: you're out of town when he comes over for a football game, you're working at the hospital when he's on base, you're at the grocery store when he FaceTimes Bradley.

for a moment, you maintain his gaze, waiting for him to place you. but he's just staring at you blankly.

"married, huh?" you ask softly, leaning in closer to Jake. you make a show of looking all around Bradley and Jake's brows knit even further--you're brash for a married woman looking at a married man. "I don't see a wife?"

Jake scoffs softly, an incredulous smile tugging on his lips. surely you're joking. but then he keeps watching you eye fuck Bradley, teeth sunken into your lower lip, and he automatically straightens his spine.

"you're married too," Jake points out, nodding to your ring finger. he crosses his arms over his chest. "how'd your husband feel knowing you're eyeing a Navyman?"

"ooh," you sing-song, batting your lashes. "he's a man in uniform, too, huh?"

Christ. you're less shameless than him.

"and married," Jake repeats, frowning a bit now. "you know, like you. married. holy matrimony and all that. union. like, legally bound."

stifling a laugh, you give a very blasé shrug of your shoulders and bite your lip.

"all the good ones are taken," you say, wrinkling your nose. "don't you think I deserve a little fun?"

Jake fully scoffs now, aghast at your behavior. it takes everything in your body not to break character and introduce yourself. but you wanna see how far you can take this: you've heard stories about Jake. a shameless, over-confident creature who'll turn taken women into single women with a bat of his long lashes. and you've got him gaping at you like you're some sort of wild animal.

but before he can say anything else, Bradley finally wanders up behind you, pressing a few kisses to your cheek as he wraps his arms around your waist.

and that is about all Jake can take.

"listen, man, I don't know your wife but I'm sure she wouldn't be too happy about you kissing up on another married woman!" Jake says, hands on his hips. he's never been more disappointed in Bradley before. he feels like he's in the fucking Twilight Zone. Bradley "I Never Shut Up About My Hot Wife" Bradshaw shacking up with some stranger at the bar while his wife probably busts her ass at the hospital? no fucking way. "and I ain't gonna hold my tongue about it--I'll tell you that now."

when Bradley laughs, Jake just blinks at him. but then you're laughing, too, patting Bradley's chest.

"we almost had him!" you tell Bradley, shoving him playfully. "that vein in his forehead was starting to throb!"

instinctively, Jake slides a finger across his forehead. huh. maybe it was. how the fuck would you know about that vein, though?

"Jake," Bradley says with a grin. "this is my wife--Dr. Bradshaw. she's known to occasionally stir the pot."

beaming at a still-flustered Jake, you extend your left hand.

"pleasure's all mine."

[quinloki]

period sex and aftercare and /BUGGY/ are so big brained can i ask for those two plus dacryphilia with buggy and croco-baby and maybe a secret third character (your choice) if you feel up to it!!! Thank yooouuu!!! :o)

Alright, I got ONE MORE KINK ASK after this and I'll be all done with them \o/ Holy shit I can't believe how many asks I got for this (And how much fun I've had dealing with them.)

It helps a lot that I love kinks, kinky people, one piece characters, and learning/educating >.>

Alright we got Period Sex, Aftercare, Dacryphilia (the crying kink) - For Buggy and Sir Crocodile - and since you called him Croco-baby I'll add Donquixote Doflamingo to this.

I am surprised with as often as I feel like I've seen the crying kink pop up that I haven't already done it for ANY of these guy =O

And also yay \o/ AFTERCARE ASK \lol/

Go go alphabetical!

Buggy:

Period Sex - FUCK Yes - It's messy, it's red, it's kind of flashy actually, and Buggy loves it. You don't grow up on the most famous pirate ship in the world without being comfortable with all sorts of things. I feel like everyone under Roger's flag was, we'll say educated, and as such I can't see anyone from that crew being put off by menstruation.

Plus, orgasms are a cure for some, and there's one way to find out if it works for you to alleviate any cramping you may be feeling. You're going to be a complete mess by the time it's done though, Buggy's a little blood-lusty, surprisingly maybe, but he gets feral, and more so than with lipstick or makeup, he loves to "mark" you.

Aftercare - Oh god you don't even know - He is a terribly stressed clown, but I also think he's a big damned softie too. Buggy really is just as comfortable brushing your hair as he is ordering the crew around. Maybe more so, honestly. All that hair he has though, and that makeup he wears, the man's skin and hair care routines are on point as much as his eyeliner game. He will take care of you after every session, even if he subbing or bottoming some of it.

I think Buggy's desire to serve is almost as strong as Sanji's honestly. If you're an important person to him, he doesn't want to let you down, and he will devour your praises. But he's also The Captain™, and no matter what his role was, he's going to provide you proper aftercare.

Dacryphilia - No. - Sure sometimes tears happen. Sometimes you're so overwhelmed they slip out, sometimes you are chocking on the impressive package this man has. Sometimes tears happen, but Buggy doesn't like tears. He doesn't want to see you cry. If your makeup smears he wants it to be cause of sweat and pleasure and touch, not because you're crying. He's not even good at handling happy tears, let alone any other kind.

Buggy's more of let-him-do-the-crying-for-both-of-you type. He'd happily be the only one stressed to the ends of his capacity, than to have you worry. (Which probably worries you xD it's a bit of a cycle like that).

Sir Crocodile:

Period Sex - Yes - He doesn't mind the mess. The cause doesn't bother him. The only reason it doesn't rate higher is because it's hard to know if your period will heighten your pleasure or your pain - that lack of control bothers him, no matter how well or fast he can adjust accordingly.

He also doesn't see it as marking you the same way some others do. It's your blood, not his. It has a scent that isn't his or his cigars. If anything it's an annoyance because you should smell like him, and you shouldn't ever be hurt enough to smell like blood. You shouldn't be close enough to violence to even know what blood smells like, at least as far as he's concerned. But he'll soothe your cramps and discomfort in any way he can when it's that time.

Aftercare - Oh god you don't even know - As said before, Crocodile is all about control, and aftercare is required for control. You don't want to leave your little bottom/sub spiraling with all sorts of thoughts on their own. Whether we're talking toxic AU or not. Aside from the control though, he enjoys it. It's time to bond, to discuss, to connect. The more he knows about you the more control he can exert.

The more control you can hand over.

Plus, as beautiful as you are in his clutches, you're just as beautiful in his care.

Dacryphilia - FUCK Yes - Oh please cry for him. Sob in terror or pleasure or pain, he's not picky. Your face in tears is as lovely as your face contorted in pleasure. The only requirement is that those tears are his fault. No one else is allowed to make you cry.

As much as he will pull tears from you - and most sobs of pleasure as long as you're good - he'll kiss them away so sweetly. Brushing them aside so kindly, and with such praise.

Donquixote Doflamingo:

Period Sex - FUCK Yes - Not only is it a mess, it's a bloody mess. Doffy's a bit twisted and I can see him actually smearing the mess all over you while he's taking a break between railing you. He's not doing it so much to mark you, as he is to almost degrade you. He'll tell you how dirty you are, covered in blood and cum and tears - he 100% gets into degrading you during it.

Sometimes being on your period can make you more sensitive to pleasure, and sometimes it makes you more sensitive to pain - it doesn't matter as far as he's concerned. He'll get his pleasure at the least, and he'll enjoy turning you into a mess in the meantime.

Aftercare - Yes - Unless he's truly into you, don't take this as some kind of kindness. Aftercare is a good time to learn and bond, and for Doffy that generally means it's a great time to reinforce all his manipulations. It lets you think he cares (again, *maybe* he does), and pulls you closer into his grasp.

A truly skilled puppeteer doesn't necessarily hide the strings, he just makes sure you don't pay attention to them when you should be >.>

Dacryphilia - Oh god you don't even know - Cry for him, please. Crumble to pieces in pleasure, fear or pain - whatever it may be that you've earned at the point in time. If you're overwhelmed in pleasure he'll promise you such sweetness and devotion. If you're overwhelmed with fear he'll admonish you softly and forgive you magnanimously. If pain stains your face he'll have you begging for forgiveness, a forgiveness he'll bestow on you when he feels like it.

Perhaps after you've gone raw and hoarse from tears and begging.

Much like others who enjoy making their partners cry, it is a pleasure reserved entirely for him and no one else. Members of his immediate family may get an understanding pass, circumstances depending, but anyone beyond that is likely to be dealt with swiftly.