#but it is and it just keeps getting harder

[bernardsbendystraws]

Bf .ᐟ Matt lets Chris use a sex toy on you

⚠︎ smut, sex toys, chratt stuff, cuck!matt, sub!reader, dom!matt, praising, degrading, freak shit ! (would a part 3 be too much)

part one

Honestly, what the fuck were you doing. Nothing about this was normal—nothing about this was morally okay. Your boyfriend shouldn’t be sharing you with his brother. 

He shouldn’t be enjoying it this much either. 

Last time, Chris was only watching. He was hesitant to even touch your knee, but now? Oh god. He couldn’t help himself now. The man’s hands were curious—needy and selfish. 

“Oh my—” 

Your mouth drops open as you feel Chris push the sex toy into you. There’s an attachment that stretches you with the perfect vibration, another smaller one that creates the exact pressure you crave on your clit. 

“Shit—you–you’re clenching around it so much…I can–can barely fuck you with it,” Chris swallows thickly, hesitantly looking over at Matt and then over to you. The sight of your face contorted with pleasure makes his dick ache in his jeans—but this was the deal. 

Just watch. 

He wants to touch you—truly touch you—but this was the closest thing Matt would let him get for now. Technically, Chris is still only observing. His hands aren’t directly on you, not anywhere inappropriate at least. 

His palm is flattened on the middle of your inner thigh, keeping you spread as Matt holds your other leg open. The echoing vibration from the toy only adds to how overwhelmed you feel with euphoria. 

Two pairs of eyes and so many hands.

All on you. 

“Is he making you feel good, sweetheart?” Matt coos, his tone dripping in a layer of sympathy that doesn’t reach his sadistic eyes. He enjoys this—way more than he should. 

Your boyfriend is obsessed with how overwhelmed you seem, how utterly lost you are in all the sensations piling down on you all at once. 

“Babyyyy…” Matt sings, leaning down until his lips graze your ear. 

Oh god.

You shiver as he nibbles on the rim of your ear, your back arching as Matt presses his hand harder on your thigh, dragging it until your knee is pressed against your chest as he starts to kiss sloppily along your thumping pulse. 

“Is he makin’ my princess feel good?” he asks again, his tone sickeningly prideful as he laughs at the pathetic noises spilling from your lips. 

He knows your body. Matt made it his mission to learn more about what makes you squirm—what makes you fall into a sobbing mess for his own entertainment. 

The way he’s pressing your leg to your chest allows the sex toy Chris is fucking into you to hit just the right spot. 

Your vision turns white, your head spinning as you feel your hips erratically spasm. 

“-cum! I—fuck!” you scream, being met with zero mercy as Chris continues to plunge the vibrations into your wet cunt, letting the friction on your clit dig against your swollen bud. 

Another sound scratches through your throat. It feels like so much—too much—but all you want is more. 

Matt lets his teeth and lips eat at your sensitive skin along your neck, his smile apparent as he pins your leg against your chest even harder to keep you in place. None of your frantic squirms make him loosen his grip. 

And it hits you—it hits you hard. 

The high that ripples through your system is overbearing. Tears leak from the corner of your eyes, your entire body going rigid as your muscles tremble. The butterflies in your stomach erupt like a storm, every vein coursing with an electric pleasure as your breath catches in your chest. 

“Thaatttt’s it, fuck—look how good you’re doin’ for us,” Matt husks.

You tremble from the echoing vibrations of the toy as it comes to an abrupt stop. Chris slowly removes it, his chest tightening as he watches your entrance clench around nothing. 

And he can’t help himself. 

Something drags his fingers between your legs, something that makes him feel so lightheaded that he can barely think. 

“Holy shit…” Chris whispers, his fingers gently touching your swollen, sloppy folds. 

The sound that leaves your lips and the way your body twitches calls him back to reality. His eyes widen as he realizes what he’s done, he looks over to see Matt glaring with a disapproving squint. 

“Sorry.” Chris mumbles. He tries his best to stop looking—to stop staring at your sloppy wetness that seems to beg for his attention. But he can’t. 

His hand moves up to your knee, his lip stinging as his teeth gnaw into the soft muscle as he attempts to swallow the lump in his throat. 

The reminder echos in his head as he takes in the heavenly sight of you fucked out and breathless;

Just watch.

a/n: pls match my freak bro. i'm just tryna be horny and vibe. anyhow, any interaction is appreciated! im too scared to use my taglist so i'll tag the ppl that specifically asked to be tagged in the comments cus im a pussy <333 lmk if a part 3 would be wanted or if this is too much LMAO. anywayyyyyyys

with love and big tits, rose ꫂ ၴႅၴ

[ohhiimjazzed]

NSFW Phainon Headcanons for his season

3.4 SPOILERS AHEAD I REPEAT 3.4 SPOILERS AHEAD

Also this is SMUT so Minors DNI

Character: Phainon Reader Pronouns: they/them or gender neutral tags: smut, a little angsty, mentions of pregnancy, overstimulation, praise, body worship, kinda wholesome ngl

Phainon doesn't know what to do when it comes to sex in the beginning. He holds back from it out of fear of hurting you. He's pretty big. He keeps the voice in the back of his mind telling him to ruin you quiet. You have to reassure him that you'll be okay if he wants to be a little rough. You trust this man with your life. That's the problem. So, you have a safe word and some lube.

Once Phainon gets going though, he's going. Like, you ain't stopping until Amphoreus welcomes a new dawn. Okay. That's an exaggeration, but you get it. You're getting dicked down by this man real good. He can go for a while, but when you're truly done. He's also done.

That doesn't mean Phainon won't overstimulate you, though. He'll make you cum as many times as he wants you to before even thinking about his own pleasure. "One more time, love. I'm not done with you yet," he'll say while eating you out/sucking you off. He hasn't even properly fucked you yet.

Speaking of oral, Phainon is a giver when it comes to oral. Seeing your legs tremble while your voice escapes in whimpers and moans is one of his favorite sights. He'll claim that he doesn't need you to suck him off. But, he'd be a liar if he said he didn't love it. So please do it. Let him relax, good god does Phainon need it.

Phainon will take you from behind whenever he feels particularly frustrated that day. It allows him to be a little rougher, pulling on your hair, groping your ass, etc. He'll press your face into the mattress firmly, but not enough to suffocate you.

Phainon will take you from the front the rest of the time, however. He likes being able to see your face. There's an intimacy behind that. He's not just fucking you. He's making love to you. He cups your face lovingly while your legs hang over his shoulders. The tenderness contrasts with how much he's pounding into you.

Praise kink? Yeah, Phainon has a huge praise kink. He'll tell you how well your taking him, how beautiful you look with your face all fucked out and drooling. It goes both ways too. Tell him how good he feels, how perfect he is and he'll start fucking you harder.

He's also into body worship. Phainon could spend hours just feeling up your naked body, admiring it. It's like Mnestia sculpted you from their divine hands. He'll blush if you do it to him too. Touch the sun mark on his neck/shoulder. It's sensitive and you'll get the best whimper from him.

Phainon would prefer to cum inside you if you'll let him. He'll stuff you full of his seed until you physically can't take anymore of him. He likes fingering it back into you when it drips out. It lets the voice in the back of his mind hope that one day, you'd have his child. Once these endless cycles are over and he can stop killing his friends and injecting his memories into a new him over and over, he'd be free to spend a peaceful life with you. But that's only a dream.

Phainon practically begged you to say his name in bed, not 'Phainon.' He wanted his true name to fall from your lips. 'Khaslana.' His name felt like poetry coming from you.

Near the cycle's end, Khaslana touches you with desperation. It leaves you confused. It's not like you're going to die the next day. You are. Just like the rest of them.

Khaslana's aftercare is ever so gentle. He holds you like you're a delicate piece of glass and cleans you like the most precious treasure in the cosmos. He kisses the bite marks and bruises on your body, whispering apologies all the while. You have to reassure him that he did nothing wrong and that you loved it.

Khaslana then holds you close, praying that one day, he won't he holding your dead body in his arms.

[navybrat817]

Bucky is all pouty when he wants your attention.

Can you just imagine, nonnie? Not just pouty, but he’s like an animal. Truly. 

Pay Attention to Me

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky just wants your attention.

Word Count: Over 400

Warnings: Just Bucky Barnes

A/N: Just a sweet and silly thing for Saturday before I take the kiddos to the pool. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Because your man loves your attention. He can't help himself. You affectionately compare him to a dog one day because of how excited he gets when you get home and how he’ll follow you around. It’s sweet. 

And when you don't pay attention to him, he’ll find a way to make you. 

Bucky will pull you into his lap and rest his chin on your shoulder if you're talking with others. Not to interrupt, but so you know he’s there. And he once laid across you like a weighted blanket when you were watching television because the movie was boring to him and you were much more interesting. 

“I love you, but you are not a lap dog,” you mumbled against his skin. 

“Love you, too,” was all he said. 

Today is no different. He wants your attention. You know he does. And he’ll have it. 

So he huffs when he stalks into the living room and silently dares you to look at him but you aren't. You feel his eyes on you when he huffs again with that grumpy glare and you try not to smile as you continue to read your book. He may even snarl a bit when he sits beside you and all it does is make you roll with your eyes. “Is that supposed to intimidate me, Sarge?” you ask with laughter in your voice. “Try harder.”

Bucky gently pokes your arm and says your name which reminds you of Alpine batting you with her paw. “Hey. Hey. Look at me,” he demands in a quiet voice, but you keep your eyes on the page. He groans after a moment and you swear he's two seconds from dramatically flopping himself down on the ground. “Damn it, look at me, please.”

“Since you used your manners,” you tease and shut the book. When you look at him, you see a pout on his handsome face. “What’s so important that you had to interrupt my reading time?”

The super soldier not only takes the book from your hands, he puts his head in your lap. You freeze for a second as he gets comfortable. “I need you to pay attention to me,” he says, taking your hand and putting it on his head. 

“Fine,” you giggle and stroke his long hair, his moan soft and content. “My needy man,” you whisper, gazing down at him with love in your eyes.

Because as much as Bucky loves your attention, you love giving it to him. 

Just imagine how needy he gets with sex. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

[thatonegrimm]

🌙 Saja Boys – Jealous Moments

-----------------------------

🧿Jinu

You’re telling a story—something funny that happened during errands. Nothing important. Just a moment with someone else.

But you’re smiling as you say it. Laughing a little, even. The kind of laugh you only let out when you're relaxed.

Jinu doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t ask questions. He just sits nearby, flipping through notes, not really reading them.

Later, when it’s just the two of you, you notice he’s quieter than usual. Focused, but not present.

“Hey,” you say gently. “You okay?”

He hesitates. Then: “I didn’t know they made you laugh like that.”

You blink. “Who?”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”

You study him for a moment. “You don’t need to be funny to matter to me.”

He looks at you, then down again, voice soft.

“…Still want to be the reason.”

You sit beside him without a word.

And when you laugh again—just a small one, just for him—he finally looks up.

---------------------------------

💪 Abby

It’s nothing.

Just a casual touch—someone brushing your arm while showing you something funny on their phone. A laugh shared too easily. An inside joke Abby doesn’t know the origin of.

He notices. But he doesn’t say anything. He never does.

He just grows quiet.

When the moment ends, he walks beside you like always. Keeps the same smile. The same pace.

But when you reach your room, he hesitates.

“Everything okay?” you ask.

He nods. Then shakes his head. Then finally says:

“I know I don’t own you.”

You pause in the doorway. “Why does it sound like you think you need to say that?”

Abby runs a hand over his hair. “Because I saw someone touch you like they didn’t care if they had the right.”

You stare at him.

“I’m not jealous,” he says. “Not really. Just—protective. Maybe more than I should be.”

You step forward, reach for his hand. “You never make me feel owned, Abby.”

He squeezes your fingers gently. “Good.”

And then, after a beat—just quiet enough to barely register:

“But I’d still like to be the one who gets to stand that close.”

-------------------------------------

📚 Mystery

You’re scrolling through your messages, casually mentioning someone you haven’t seen in months.

“I don’t even know why I dreamed about him,” you say. “It wasn’t even romantic—he just showed up and told me to avoid vending machines?”

Mystery doesn’t say anything.

You don’t realize he’s paying attention until hours later.

That night, you find one of his notebooks on your nightstand.

Your name is written in the corner. Underlined once.

And beside it? A name you haven’t mentioned in weeks. Scribbled out. Written again. Scribbled harder. Still visible.

You stare at it.

“Is this…” you begin.

Mystery appears behind you. Quiet as a shadow. “You said he was in your dream.”

“I didn’t think you were listening.”

“I always listen.”

You turn. “It wasn’t like that.”

“I know,” he says. “But I don’t like the idea of someone else showing up where I’m supposed to be.”

You blink. “Even in dreams?”

He looks at you. Serious. “Especially there.”

----------------------------------

💋 Romance

You walk into your room and find a bouquet on your desk.

Fresh. Subtle. No card. Just a pale ribbon and a neat bundle of tulips.

You smile. “That’s sweet.”

Behind you, Romance stops short.

“…That wasn’t me.”

You turn around. “What?”

He’s already walking toward the flowers. Looking at them too long. Too still.

“I didn’t send these,” he says again. “And I always send flowers with a note.”

You shrug. “Maybe someone just likes me.”

His jaw tenses.

Later that night, when you open your bag, you find another bouquet inside. Different flowers this time. Deep blue. Carefully arranged.

There’s no name. But the ribbon matches his favorite shirt.

You don’t mention it.

But when you catch him watching you the next morning, his only response is a smirk.

And a single word, tossed casually over his shoulder:

“Better ones, right?”

---------------------------------------

🔥 Baby

It was just a joke.

Someone else made it—quick, clever, nothing special—but it caught you off guard. You laughed.

Not just a chuckle. A real laugh. The kind that slips out without warning.

Baby heard it from across the room.

He didn’t interrupt. Didn’t scowl. Didn’t speak.

He just watched.

Later that night, you find him in the kitchen, eating spicy chips with his hoodie up, back to the fridge.

“You’ve been quiet,” you say.

“I’m always quiet,” he replies.

You move beside him, lean your hip against the counter. “What’s going on?”

He shrugs. Doesn’t look at you.

“You laughed easier with them.”

You blink. “What?”

“It was easy. Natural. Didn’t even try.”

You stare at him for a long moment.

Then you reach out, hook your pinky into his.

“You make me feel safe,” you say. “That’s deeper than laughter.”

He finally looks at you. Eyes steady. Gold, but soft.

Then, almost shy:

“…Next time, I’ll make you laugh and feel safe.”

------------------------------

M-List

[tikitakatia]

Gotta Call ´Em Something — A. Putellas x Reader

WC: 1.2k

Summary: May the gay gods bless you, you don´t know how much longer you´ll last with these situations.

You’ve worked at FC Barcelona for six months now. That’s 182 days, 4,368 hours, and according to the deeply unscientific tally on Mapi’s whiteboard in the gym, over 300 separate attempts to flirt with Alexia Putellas. Which is, coincidentally, also how many times you’ve failed. Not because you’re bad at it.

No, you’re actually incredible at flirting. You’re practically built for it: the timing, the smirk, the voice drop. You flirt the way others breathe. But Alexia Putellas? She’s the final boss of obliviousness. The patron saint of “Wait, that was flirting?” You are practically on your knees with romantic, yearning desperation, and she still greets you with a casual “Holii” like you’re just another teammate asking if she wants more ice in her drink.

You’ve tried everything. Compliments, thoughtful little gifts, lingering touches during post-match massages. You once told her she looked like a renaissance painting and she responded with, “Which one?” and then sincerely asked if you meant “the one with the screaming man.” You didn’t even bother correcting her that The Scream is neither a renaissance painting nor flattering. You just stared at the wall behind her and whispered, “Yes.”

You’re not subtle. You’ve never been subtle. Subtle is for cowards. The first week you met, she said, “I’m always sore after leg day,” and you, clearly not in possession of your own soul, responded with, “Good thing I know how to use my hands.” She laughed. She thought it was funny. Friendly. You, on the other hand, went home and screamed into a pillow so loud your upstairs neighbor texted you to ask if someone had died.

Everyone else knows. Everyone. The entire locker room is involved. Mapi and Cata have a running commentary on your attempts, complete with odds and spreadsheets. They once made cards for it, Flirting Bingo. Square one was “offered to carry Alexia’s Louis Vuitton bag again.” The free space just said “blushes when she says your name.” Even Caro is in on it, and she has the emotional range of a house plant.  She walked past you once mid-flirt and muttered, “Dios mío, just flash her or something.”

Ona, who has the observational skills of a sniper, said it best after a particularly disastrous encounter in the cafeteria where you called Alexia mi sol and she asked if that was your new nickname for the coffee machine. Ona just leaned against the table, sipped her smoothie, and went, “I’ve seen snails crawl faster than Alexia takes to understand your flirting attempts.”

It’s become a locker room soap opera. You flirt. She blinks. You sigh. Mapi shouts. Pina eats popcorn. Keira places bets. And Alexia? Alexia just hums and asks if anyone wants more Prime. You are living in hell, and it’s got a very specific Catalan accent.

But you keep trying. Because you're nothing if not romantically deranged. You flirt harder. You bring her coffee. Offer massages you absolutely do not have time for. She compliments your hoodie and you offer to share it. She says you’re great with your hands, and you ask if she needs a demonstration. She moans during treatment, and you have to step out and splash cold water on your face.

And she never, ever gets it.

Until one fateful afternoon, after a training session, when you find yourselves alone in the physio room. She’s perched on the edge of the table, swinging her legs slightly, scrolling through her phone. Her hair’s damp from the shower, her cheeks flushed, and she’s still wearing your hoodie. (Yes. Still. It’s basically her hoodie now. You've given up.) The two of you are laughing about something dumb she said during rondos, probably involving a cone and you're feeling bold. Or desperate. Hard to say. It’s a fine line these days.

“So,” you say, trying to sound casual, “what do you think about pet names?”

She glances up, curious. “Like what kind of pet?”

You blink. “No, not actual pets. Like… babe. Baby. Amor. Cariño. You know. Terms of endearment.”

She hums, thoughtful. “I guess. I mean, you’ve got to call them something.”

You smile. “Yeah?”

She nods seriously. “Like… dog.”

You stare at her.

She stares back, deadpan.

“I used to call my pomeranian cariño all the time,” she adds, as if that clarifies things.

Somewhere in the distance, you’re certain Mapi has sensed a disturbance in the Force. You’re pretty sure Irene just dropped a protein shake. Possibly in slow motion.

You blink once, slowly. “Like… a person. Like if you’re dating someone.”

“Oh!” she says, like the thought has never occurred to her before.

“Well, yeah. I guess that’s cute.”

“You guess.”

She shrugs, entirely unaffected. “I mean, it’s not like I’d call my girlfriend dog.”

“Thank God,” you mutter under your breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

From outside the room, you hear Ona’s voice drifting in: “She needs subtitles, bro.”

You are going to cry. Or combust. Or kiss her. Or all three in quick succession. But before you can spiral further, Alexia looks up again and offers you one of those slow, sweet smiles that short-circuits your brain.

“Why?” she asks. “Do you use pet names?”

“I would,” you say, “if I had a reason to.”

She nods. “Makes sense.”

She nods. Like you’re discussing the weather. Like you’re not actively, aggressively pining for her with your whole chest.

Weeks later, something in you snaps. Possibly your dignity. Possibly your last functioning brain cell.

“I want to kiss you so bad sometimes I forget how to speak,” you blurt.

She looks up, smiling. “Your Spanish is always really good.”

You blink.

She blinks.

From the hallway, there’s a metallic thud. That’s probably Mapi walking into a wall. Or throwing herself at one.

Alexia frowns. “Wait… was that, did you mean that literally?”

Mapi bursts through the doorway like a human hurricane. “NO. No no no. You are NOT about to mess this up again. She’s been flirting with you for six months, Ale. SIX. MONTHS. She offered you her water bottle with eye contact. That’s practically second base.”

Alexia turns to you, stunned. “You’ve… been flirting with me?”

You just stare at her. “Yes. I’ve been flirting. Since February. I literally asked if you liked pet names and you said "like for a dog.”

Her mouth drops open. “Oh my god. I thought you were just… really friendly.”

“I am friendly,” you say. “But I’m also in love with you and I’ve aged three years trying to communicate that.”

She laughs, nervous and pink-cheeked, and takes a step closer. “So… you like me?”

“Yes.”

“Like… like-like?”

You blink. “I’m sorry, are we in middle school?”

She grins. “Okay. And you want to kiss me?”

You nod. “So badly I’ve considered creating a PowerPoint presentation about it.”

She looks down at her feet. Then back at you. Then she kisses you.

And just like that, the entire world shifts.

Her lips are soft, warm, slightly uncertain. You melt. Everything inside you goes still. Her hands find your hoodie, well, her hoodie, really, and tug you closer. You taste spearmint gum and 182 days of unresolved tension. You think, Oh. This is it.

When she pulls back, she’s breathless and smiling. “So… what do I call you now?”

Mapi groans from the doorway. “Don’t say dog, I swear to god.”

[star-anise]

I used to work in a university counselling services office. Mental health and life stuff.

The research showed two things:

The most successful students were not the ones who crammed for their lives. Instead, top performers combined tough academic work, relaxing time with friends, frequent physical activity, and plentiful rest.

Full-time students who are employed for more than 8-10 hours a week have lower GPAs than students that don't work, and that average GPA gets lower the more hours they work during semester.

What could I do about that? Fuck-all, a lot of the time. University is gruelling, and students that need the most financial and academic help are the ones least able to afford time off to sleep or play frisbee with their friends.

So when people valorize cramming and say that students should just work harder, that's literally like telling people who need to get out of a hole to keep digging.

i completely understand & agree with the backlash against students using chatgpt to get degrees but some of you are out here saying "getting a degree in xyz means pulling multiple consecutive all-nighters and writing essays through debilitating migraines and having severe back pain from constantly studying at your desk and chugging energy drinks until you get a kidney stone and waking up wishing you were dead every day, and that's just part of the natural process of learning!!!" and like. umm. i don't think that any of us should have had to endure that either. like maybe the solution for stopping students from using anti-learning software depends on college institutions making the process of learning actually sustainable on the human body & mind rather than a grueling health-destroying soul-crushing endeavor

[webslinger-holland]

Hii, if you’re willing, could you do the Thunderbolts boys when you two are not dating and arguing but they kiss you to shut you up ? I fear that’s one of my favourite trope 😣 No worries if you don’t want to obviously lol

Prompt: Bucky, John, and Bob kiss you to shut you up during an argument

Warning: none really, just a little heat from an argument

Note: I'm back! I really hope you enjoy this one and send more requests in.

Thunderbolts Masterlist

Bucky: The briefing room is cold and silent except for the sound of tension building between the two of you. Bucky leans back against the table, arms crossed over his chest, still in his black tactical suit, dirt and bruises fresh from the mission. His jaw is tight. His eyes are colder than usual.

“Why won’t you just talk to me?” you snap, breath shaking as you glare at him. “I’m not your enemy, Bucky. I’m on your side.”

He says nothing and keeps that stoic look on his face like he's unfazed.

“You don't have to do things alone anymore. You left me standing there while you ran headfirst into the middle of it, and I’m supposed to just stand by and watch you get killed?” You trying to help him see reason.

He shifts but still won’t meet your eyes.

“I’m tired of it,” you say, voice rising. “I’m tired of not knowing what you’re thinking. You shut me out every time something gets hard. You don’t let anyone help you. You don’t let me help you.”

“Because I don’t want you to get hurt,” Bucky finally says, voice flat but low.

You throw up your hands. “That’s not your decision to make—”

“You mean everything to me,” Bucky cuts in, sharper now. His eyes finally lift to yours. “I’m not gonna let something happen to you because of me.”

You take a step toward him. “And I’m not gonna sit here and let something happen to you, but you don’t even let me in long enough to try! You always—” You shake your head, hands clenched at your sides. “You always act like you’re on your own. Like you’re some kind of broken weapon instead of a—”

He moves fast.

One hand cups the side of your face, the other finds your waist, and then he’s kissing you—hard and without warning, swallowing the rest of your sentence like it physically hurt him to hear it.

His lips are warm, the kiss urgent, his breath ragged against your mouth. You stumble slightly but catch yourself on his chest, the cold edge of his vibranium arm brushing your skin.

Your anger falters. Your breath hitches. Your heart pounds.

He pulls back first, still so close you can feel the brush of his breath. His voice drops low. “You done yelling?”

You blink up at him, dazed. “...I might be.”

The corner of his mouth twitches—half smirk, half something softer. “Then come here.” And kisses you again.

John: It wasn’t your first fight and it certainly wouldn’t be your last. Both of you were too stubborn to back down, unable to admit that either of you were wrong. Every mission brought out the worst—and sometimes the best—in both of you. Mostly the worst.

The two of you are nose-to-nose in the hallway, your finger pressed into his chest like it might actually shove him backwards. The tension is crackling between you, loud and electric, almost louder than your voice.

"You’re reckless!" you snap. "You didn’t wait for backup, and we told you the sniper wasn’t alone!"

John scowls, his jaw tight. His eyes are wild with adrenaline, and under the anger is something else—something unspoken, simmering.

“If I hadn’t moved, you’d be the one with a bullet in your leg,” he growls. “But sure—let’s stand around and wait for clearance while you bleed out.”

“I didn’t need you to play hero—”

“You never do, do you?” he bites out. “You can’t admit when you’re scared, or when someone saves your ass, or when—”

“When what, John?” you cut him off, voice sharper than ever. You push harder, taking one single step closer until your chest is flush with his and there’s no room for either of you to breathe. “Go ahead, finish the damn sentence—"

His hand snaps out and grabs your jaw—not rough, but firm, grounding. Before you can fire off another word, he pulls you in and kisses you.

Hot. Hard. Immediate.

Your protest dies in your throat. It knocks the breath out of your lungs. Your hands fist in his shirt—whether to pull him closer or shove him away, you don’t even know. He kisses you like this has been burning a hole in him, like the only way to shut you up was to finally do what he's wanted to do for far too long.

When he pulls back, he’s panting, eyes locked on yours. You can still feel his breath on your lips. You stare at him blankly, wondering what the hell just happened.

“You talk too much,” he mutters, voice low and hoarse.

And then, like he didn’t just rearrange your entire reality, he turns and walks away, leaving you stunned, speechless, and burning in the hallway.

You don't follow. You can't. Not yet.

Bob: The Watchtower is quiet; the night swallowing everything except the low hum of the building around you. A low rumble of thunder sounded in the short distance followed by the soft patter of rain falling over the city.

The doors to the lounge slide shut behind you, and you don’t stop to see who it is because you already know. You haven't stopped moving and your heart won’t either.

“You scared the hell out of me,” you confess, pacing across the room. “You said you'd come to me if you had problems. That if something was bothering you—”

Bob stands just a few feet away. He watches you with wide, guilty eyes, shoulders drawn tight. He doesn’t even look real right now—too still, too statuesque, too… distant.

“I know,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I needed space."

“I understand that," you say, turning on him again, voice brittle with frustration and worry that you can’t seem to shake. "I do. I get that sometimes you need air, but you can’t just… you can’t go somewhere I can’t reach you. You can’t leave me behind like that."

He gaze drops away from yours like he's still riddled with his own guilt and can't bare to look at your face. His silence aggravates you slightly.

"You always do this—" you look away yourself, but his gaze flickers up. "You push everything down and you don’t talk to me and—”

“Please—” His voice cracks. His hand reaches out an inch but doesn’t quite make it.

You can’t stop. The panic’s still in your throat, still clawing its way out. “You don’t get to just come back and expect me to be fine, Bob! I care about you too much to just—”

Then suddenly—

His hands are on your face, soft but shaking.

And his mouth is on yours. Then he's kissing you. You melt against him before you can think, before the storm in your chest can catch up.

It’s not rough or hurried. It’s gentle in the way someone kisses glass—terrified of breaking it but too desperate not to try. His lips are warm, his breath shaky, his hands cold against your jaw as he holds you in place like he’s afraid you’ll vanish this time.

You go still. Your breath stutters. But you can’t stop your hands from gripping his arms desperately. The world shrinks to the feel of him—the way he kisses you like he’s drowning, like this is the only thing anchoring him here.

When he finally pulls back, your lips still brush with the ghost of the kiss. His forehead presses to yours. His voice is a whisper—raw, cracked.

“I’m here now," Bob murmurs. "I’m not going anywhere.”

Your eyes slip shut. Your breathing slows. His does too.

You swallow the knot in your throat and manage, quietly, “I hate when you do that.”

“I know,” he says softly. “But I had to.”

Neither of you have the energy to pull away.

[writing-munchies]

NSFW HC'S— Daisuke, Cam, Chance & Tony x GN!Reader (MDNI)

A/N: I have found out that listening to Meghan is the best way to get me to write smut, bigger in texas is so damn good. Sorry for any mistakes as English isn't my first language:-]

WC: 4K

Daisuke

Whenever he has the even shortest window available to be with you, he will initiate. Sometimes, he’ll even let you pull him from his work, a very rare sight, though.

Calls you so many lovely pet names, ‘my love’, ‘my everything’, ‘my world’, will press a kiss on your temple as he does so.

Whatever you do, do not ask to fuck in the kitchen counters, he can fuck you just as well on a table if you’re craving it that badly.

He has to see your face when he’s balls deep inside you, loves seeing how your face contorts into such expressions as he drives his cock in and out of you; he leaks pre inside every time you look at him with teary eyes.

This man loves using his fingers on you. One time you took your hands in his and admired how slender and long they were compared to yours, he was flattered by your compliment. He fingered you for 3 hours that night, the feeling of you writhing on his lap, your ass grinding down on his hard on as he feels your hole clench down on his fingers, broken moans of his name slipping from your lips just has him on cloud nine and his dick harder than it has ever been.

When it’s late in the night—which is usually when you two have sex— and you’re being a little too loud as the head of his cock keeps brushing against the spot inside that has you seeing stars, he puts those pretty fingers in your mouth to shush you with a, “my love, I don’t want anyone else to hear you like this,” yes he does stroke his dick to cum on your stomach with that hand on purpose; your saliva coating his fingers is just so erotic to him.

Has a real bad fixation with your mouth. Make out sessions with him will last for at least an hour, will not let your tongue go. Especially after you gave him a blowjob, or he fucked your mouth, loves to taste himself on your tongue, does the same for you whenever his mouth is coated with your cum. When you have his cum on your face, instead of cleaning it up on the spot he just wipes it across your lips with his thumb, you look gorgeous like that.

This man loves giving head, especially by having your thighs around his head, he’ll pull you up from your hips;

AFAB; he’ll pull you up from your hips, lock your thighs around his head and his tongue will go to town on your clit, even if his tongue is busy fucking in and out of you, his thumb will never leave your clit. Wants your cum and slick to coat his mouth, will not stop until your hands can’t even tug on his hair from how much you’re shaking and whining from overstimulation, this man will eat you out like he’s been starving for pussy.

AMAB; he’ll pull your bottom half up by your thighs, anchor you by gripping your ass and taking your dick in his mouth in one go. He has no gag reflex, which is very advantageous, as he will not stop until you’re shooting blanks down his throat. He makes so much noise when he’s sucking you off, he is starving for even a drop of pre, of course his hold on your ass or thighs will harden as you’re about to cum and your hips start bucking, he wants every last drop that he can milk out of your—to him, very ‘pretty’— dick. 

He has one guilty pleasure, and that's fucking on the floor. As long as you’re comfortable with it, especially on a cold night, he just loves the contrast of the temperature and how even though you have so many places to shy away from his touch when you’re overstimulated his body caging you in makes it impossible and that makes his dick so hard he can feel all the blood rushing to it.

Loves getting his hair pulled, especially as he’s cumming inside of you, the added stimulation makes him whimper your name quietly as his dick is pumping cum inside of you. Loves to thrust one more time just to see his cum gush out of your hole.

If you propose to pop his cherry—take his anal virginity—he won’t be opposed at all, whether it’s with a dildo, strap or your own dick, God he just loves taking any kind of pleasure from you. Pulling his hair especially becomes more of a turn on when you’re fucking him from behind, smack his ass every once in a while if you want to hear him cry out your name.

Will cry during sex when he’s overwhelmed, whether he’s topping or bottoming. When he’s topping, being inside you for the first time already has his nerves fried, but when you keep tightening around him, telling him that you love him, oh his dick has never hurt from how hard it was before. When bottoming, tell him how good he’s sucking you in and how pretty he looks while hitting his prostate again and again, and he’ll be a crying mess.

He actually prefers to go slow and deep, but when he’s inside you, and you’re looking at him like that, he can’t stop his hips from fucking you so hard that he can feel his thighs going sore. 

Body worshiper, will be telling you how handsome/beautiful/gorgeous you look with the most soft, smitten tone as his dick is drilling inside you so deep that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes.

Tease him about how he moans your name if you want to see him blush. Tell him how the entire house knows just how whiny he gets when you’re bouncing on his dick, tell him how cute his whimpers sound after a blowjob, about how the entire house now knows how fast you make him cum with your mouth, touch his tip and watch him cum with a quiet whimper on the spot for a second time right after his first.

Fucks real good, but he gets so shy when you're direct. Instead of flowering your words, tell him to fuck you or how good his dick feels inside of you, and he’ll flush red from top to bottom. The way his dick throbs inside you and the way his grip tightens on your hips tells you he likes it, though.

He is genuinely so loving even when having sex, his arms will always be around you, your bodies will always be flush against each other, and he’ll always press a kiss on your eyelids or your temple when he calls you one of his lovely pet names.

Exceptionally good aftercare, will bathe you, will lie you down on your bed, trail your whole body with kisses as he massages your body. Will even bring you food, he has it at the ready. Even has some lotion to really up the feeling and effectiveness of the massage, will pamper you with cuddles. 10000/10. 

Cam

This man not only initiates, he tells you he wants to bend you over the table and fuck you ‘till you forget your own name. No playing around, he gets straight to the point.

If you give him the okay, he will be ripping those clothes off your body, and he’ll latch his mouth onto your nipple the second they are visible.

He is very direct. He’ll be kissing your neck, telling you how he wants to see you crying on his cock, your hips bucking up as he’s pumping his cum inside you.

This man hates to see you go but loves to watch you leave, his eyes never leave your ass and legs.

He loves giving head, but the image of you on your knees, his cock fill,ng you up, the look on your face as you feel his cock throb against your tongue… oh there’s nothing like it. He’ll let you suck him off for a bit, but for you two, a blowjob always ends up with him fucking your mouth. Loves seeing his cum on your face, he’ll lick his lips as his dick gets hard again just at the sight, “open up,” and he’s cumming down your throat again; gripping your jaw and telling you to swallow, he wants to see you do it.

When he’s giving head he will be licking your sex through your underwear, this man loves to do this when you have jeans on the most though:

AMAB; his tongue will never leave your tip, teases you about how much pre you’re leaking. His hand will stroke you through the fabric, biting his lip when he sees your pre stain your underwear/jeans, gets so horny at how reactive your cock is. Loves how it throbs against his fingers, will be licking through the fabric too, makes sure to take your cock out when you warn him that you’re close, making sure to suck on your tip as his hands squeeze and palm your balls. Cum all over his face and he’ll be chirpy all day.

AFAB; Licks you through your underwear as he keeps you still with an iron grip on your thighs. Sucking on your clit through the cloth as he buries his head between your legs. When he tastes some slick through the damp fabric, whimpers, grinds his tongue down harder. His fingers will come in too, just stroking your cunt up and down as he keeps pressing his tongue down on your clit, will be licking your underwear after you cum.

So many, so, so many marks all over your back and inner thighs. This man loves to hear you squeal or cry out when he’s driving his cock in and out of you so deep you can feel every vein grinding down inside, he’ll suck on your neck, will hear you moan, then bite down to hear you squeal his name as he finds the spot that makes you mess when he drills his cock into it a few times.

Cam loves to just go deep, as deep as he can, as deep as it takes for you to throw your head back and your hips start stuttering with how hard he’s driving his cock inside of you. He wants to hear you cry, wants to feel you tighten around him with every little thing he’s telling you, like how he should just tie you up and keep you only for himself as he uses your body to get off, or how he wants to watch you ruin yourself on his dick !till he’s shooting blanks inside you; he’s insatiable.

His hands will never leave your ass if you’re riding him, whether you’re facing him or not, his hands will never leave your ass. Smacks it hard when you slow down, pinches it when he knows you’re close, snapping his hips up as you’re cumming just to watch you squirm. He’ll make sure there are nail marks on your ass by the time he’s done with you.

Loves to bite down on… anywhere on your body, really. Your inner thighs the most, especially when he’s giving you head, he’ll kiss and bite before his tongue even touches your sex, his eyes will never leave yours as he’s doing this. Loves to bite down on your ass, neck, and the middle of your chest, it’s just so damn hot to him.

Cam enjoys humping more when you’re both naked, he’ll get on top of you, his arms hugging you as his hips grind his dick down on your sex, he loves grinding down in circles as that gives him the most stimulation. He loves fucking your thighs, will tap your ass with his palm and tell you to, “get ‘em ready for my cock, I missed doing this with you, fuck…” His dick gets so hard off this, the way your thighs slick up as his pre is smeared all over them, his nails digging into your waist as he thrusts until he’s cumming, making sure his tip is flush against your thighs to coat your inner thighs and make you, in a way.

Not at all opposed to using toys on himself, he’ll have a vibrator deep inside him as he’s fucking you, whining as his hips stutter and his cock strains inside you when you up the setting of the vibrator. Will let you fuck him with a dildo, he’s not sure about a full on strap/dick, but he will try anything once with you. He gets so whiny when you get the toy inside him as deep as he fucks you, mimicking the pace he usually uses on you and cooing at him when he starts to whine out your name, becomes a mess under you rather easily with that.

Puts a pillow under your hips to make sure you feel every inch of him as he’s driving his cock inside in one thrust. His hands never leave your clit/dick when he’s inside you, always rubbing/stroking your sex as he fucks into you, wants to watch you come undone under him.

His aftercare isn’t the best but not the worst either, he’s fine. He’ll get you anything you want, but he’ll mostly be answering you in grunts and unintelligible noises, will insist on cuddling with all of his limbs tight around you like he’s an octopus. 

Chance

He’ll initiate after a really good G&G session, but other than that, if you ask him to, he’s almost always up for it.

Role-play, come on, he’s into this. Show him the kind of costume you want on those sex role-play character sheets he’s making, and he will get a boner on the spot.

Take the sex role-play session he crafted with so much care seriously, and he’ll be so deep with his dick pumping cum inside of you, you’ll see stars behind your eyes as his cock just won’t stop throbbing inside, this man cums a lot and especially when he’s emotionally invested.

He blushes a lot and all over his body, one whine of his name as he’s taking your clothes off and now 60% of his body is red. 

He gets so horny if, in an RP where you’re royalty, and he’s your knight, and you’re sucking his dick as he sits on your throne. The power of it all, combined with how good your throat tightens around his dick when he whines and bucks his hips, the way your hands play with his balls as his pitch gets higher and higher, a mess above you.

He loves a good RP session, he writes down how you sucked him off, the sounds you made as he fucked into you, the dialogue that was said and later strokes his cock to it when he’s re-reading it. He can never control just how fast his fist gets when he reads about how your legs locked him in place when he warned you he was close just to make him cum inside you, and now it makes him cum the second he finishes reading the sentence.

If you’re up for it, while in one of your private sessions, he’ll narrate as you masturbate in front of him. Stuttering and whimpering involuntarily when you cum, begging you to let him lick it all off of you, loves cleaning you up. Will narrate and tell you just how gorgeous you look when you’re so close, how your sex reacts to his voice when he says something horny, how he’d feel so good inside you and from there it snowballs into him fucking into you while whimpering and holding you in his arms.

Will dirty talk in character, like in the previous Royalty and Knight one, he’ll tell you how unashamedly you’re taking someone’s cock that isn’t even royalty, how if you keep this up you’ll just become a commoner hole for everyone with enough wit and charm to cum into. Reply in character and oh, he’s cumming on the spot. His hips will just start snapping down into your hole, going so deep and slow you can feel every drag of his cock as he bullies your sweet spot ‘till he’s filling you up with his cum.

Somehow you two always ends up either with his head between your legs or with him balls deep inside of you. It’s rare for him to break character ever but when he’s so close, and you’re so fucking tight like you’re trying to milk him for all his worth, his hips lose their consistent rhythm, and he’ll start fucking into you like he’s using you to get off, like he wants your insides to be painted white with his cum.

Get real close to him, your fingers plying with the hem of his pants as he looks at you with a blush ready on his cheeks, tell hi how badly you want to put on a show for the others with him. How you want them to see how good his cock treats you, how full it gets you, how you want them to see the way he cries and snaps his hips down with desperation when he’s so close, and he’s getting a boner on the spot.

Would actually love to fuck in a closet, closed spaces and the way your bodies just have to be flush against each other just gets him so turned on.

Always checks up on you after, getting you food, clean towels, water, and cuddles. He’ll cuddle up to you rambling about some of the ideas he’ had and after a while you’ll feel his hard on grinding down on your ass and his lips on your neck, he’s a bit insatiable. Good aftercare, he’s a little freaky with it even when you’re supposed to be resting, but not bad at all.

Tony

He will initiate, and he will initiate with style, he’ll gently grab you by the hips, give a peck, “give me some sugar, missed your sweetness in my mouth, yeah?”

Direct, he isn’t shy at all, he’ll say that he wants to fuck you ‘till every pump of his cum has you whimpering his name and means it.

Holds you by your thighs as he’s fucking into you, the way you clench so tight around him when he hits that spot like you told him to do, has his dick leaking inside you. Loves how your tongue peeks out with every whimper and whine leaving your mouth, he thinks it's cute and sexy as hell at the same time.

Has an oral fixation. Has to have his dick in your mouth at least once a day, or he won’t be able to function properly. He’ll anchor himself with his hand on the back of your head and just fuck your mouth, throwing his head back as his hips buck into your mouth with every drag of his cock against your tongue. Will drag his cock along your tongue after he’s done cumming down your throat, just to watch you drool on his tip, that has him hard again in five seconds.

Loves to fuck you from behind, his chest flush against your back as his arms are wrapped against you, his hips flush against your ass as he drives his cock in and out of in a pace that has your head spinning. Makes sure the tip of his cock hits your spot, he did promise to make you a dumb drooling mess on his dick after all, and Tony keeps his promises.

Let him fuck your mouth after a long day while stroking the base while squeezing and massaging his balls, “fuck, babe, you want me to lose my mind or somethin’?”, and if you moan around it afterward, taking it all in one go all the way down your throat he just might cum on the spot while his thighs shake from the stimulation.

Sometimes he’ll just get you on his lap, palm your sex through your clothes while making out with you, his hands slipping down your underwear and taking it off with ease. He wants to make you cum only by fingering you, maybe he’ll touch your clit/cock, but he won’t let you cum any other way. He wants to feel that hole tightens around his fingers, he wants to hear you whine his name, grip his arms as his fingers just don’t stop after you’ve already come, the noises your slick/the lube along with his spit covered fingers are making when he’s fucking you with his fingers is like music to his ears. The way you throw your head back onto his shoulders, the way your hips buck up as his fingers never slow down, the way you cry out his name, oh it’s heaven.

Will tell you that you taste sweeter than sugar when he’s giving you head:

AMAB; this man loves sucking on your tip and playing with your balls the most. The way you whine out his name when he takes your dick down in on ego spurs him on so good he starts to hump the ground as he’s sucking you off. Wants to feel every vein with every single drag in and out of his mouth, his hips matching the pace he’s sucking you off with. Cum down his throat, coat his tongue, and he’ll make you suck it all off from his tongue when you’re making out after.

AFAB; Tony eats pussy like he’s been starving for it before he met you, his fingers will always work with his tongue. His thumb will never leave your clit as his tongue’s lapping up every bit of slick comin’ out of your cunt. Loves rubbing your clit as fast as he can while he sticks his tongue inside you deep and just sucks, will also make you suck your cum off of his tongue when you’re making out.

He’s very vocal, cannot shut up when he’s so deep and snug inside you, when you’re fucking yourself on his dick as your ass slams on his hips, ‘sugar’, ‘babe’, and a lot of curses as he grips your hips with his life, trying to stop himself from just slamming his hips down and pump you full of cum himself.

If he sees you naked or catches a nip slip, you’re getting bent over as he holds your arms behind your back and fucks into you, making sure that by the end of it you’re full of cum, just to continue after 5 minutes; to watch his cum drip down your ass and stick to his hips as he drills his cock into you so deep you damn near scream his name.

Wear jeans, and he’ll open the zipper with his teeth to get his tongue on his favorite meal, “open up babe, I’ve been craving some of this honey deep down my throat and coating my tongue”, he loves seeing the way you react to what he says.

Loves that mouth of yours, loves to make out after a good blow job, his hand massaging your nape as he’s moaning your name into your mouth while he bites your bottom lip and sucks on your tongue.

Marks you up all over your body, loves to bite and suck on your back as his cock is making you cum your brains out under him, his hands massaging your ass as his lips latch onto your neck; taking you by the hips and slamming your ass onto his hips to fuck you on his dick like you’re a toy.

Good aftercare! Water, food, towels, kisses, compliments, and cuddles always at the ready. His hands will never leave your body, either roaming or groping you, loves squeezing that ass; his dick throbs a bit when his cum drips down to his fingers as he’s groping your ass. He’ll always tell you he loves you, just a sweetheart, really thankful for you in every way. 1000000/10.

[wendichester]

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ harder than heaven,

summary. you fell first. he fell harder.

pairing. sam winchester x reader genre. fluffy fluff

wordcount. 514

ᯓ★ read dean's version

It starts with you watching him.

Not in a creepy way. Not even in a “stare until he notices” way. More like: you’re sitting across from him during a stakeout, and there’s a lull in conversation, and you happen to look up—and there he is.

Long fingers tapping the steering wheel. Hair a little too long, curling around his ears. Bottom lip caught between his teeth as he reads over the case notes.

And your chest goes warm. Familiar. Safe.

You don’t mean to fall for him.

But you do.

Quietly. All at once. Like a click.

You keep it to yourself.

Because you’re a hunter. And so is he. And feelings? They’re dangerous. Messy. Distracting. But still—when he walks into the room, your heart stutters. When he smiles at you, the whole day feels a little less cruel. When he says your name, you feel like it means something.

You fell first. No doubt about it.

But Sam?

Sam falls harder.

It happens gradually.

He doesn’t even realize he’s spiraling until it’s too late.

It starts when you get hurt on a hunt—just a little. Scraped shoulder, bandaged ribs. You brush it off with a joke and a crooked smile.

Sam can’t laugh. Can’t even fake it.

He paces the room like a caged animal until Dean throws a pillow at him and tells him to chill the hell out.

Sam sits by your bed that night after you’re asleep. Watches your chest rise and fall. Doesn’t even realize he’s reaching for your hand until his fingers brush yours.

Then come the little things.

He remembers how you take your coffee. Always keeps an extra hair tie on his wrist in case yours snaps mid-hunt. Buys that obscure snack you mentioned once, months ago, and pretends it was just on sale.

Dean starts to notice.

“You like her,” he teases one night, pointing at the way Sam lights up when you laugh from the next room.

Sam doesn’t answer.

Because he knows. And it’s terrifying.

Because you’re strong. Brilliant. Quick with a comeback. Quicker with a blade. You’re everything he’s not sure he deserves to want.

But he wants.

God, he wants.

He falls the hardest when you brush his hair back once, without thinking.

It’s a stupid moment. You’re both exhausted. Sweaty. Bloodstained.

You’re sitting on the edge of a motel bed, and he’s crouched in front of you, checking a gash on your leg.

And you just—reach forward. Sweep a strand of hair off his forehead, fingers barely grazing his skin.

You don’t even notice what you’ve done.

But he freezes.

And then he looks at you like the earth just cracked open.

“Sam?” you ask, blinking.

And he says—softly, shakily— “Have you always looked at me like that?”

You pause. Smile, just a little. “Maybe.”

His voice drops. “I think I’m in love with you.”

You breathe out a laugh, tears stinging your eyes. “You think?”

Then he’s kissing you.

Gentle. Slow. Sure.

And when he pulls back, he’s already smiling like he’s just found the rest of his life.

ꔛ. navigation ��˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[inbabylontheywept]

@psychotic-induction-jazz its a cheap thrill. there's no fun at all in cheating just to win, but its a blast to cheat in such a way that you can, and eventually will, get caught. as a matter of fact, the harder it is to get away with the cheating, and the more blatant it is, the funner it becomes. lying about your cards when playing go fish is lame, because its chump easy and forcing people to check everyones hands every turn makes the game suck. drawing extra cards is hilarious though, because eventually you have like, 20 cards in your hand, and you're trying to hide that you have half the deck, and you just cant do it forever. eventually someone notices and then you get chased out of town with torches and pitchforks.

but part of the key is that you have to get to that 20 point. sticking at 8 cards just for the edge? boring. lame. weak. "oh i accidentally drew one, sorry, ill put it back" you're a weenie keeping plausible deniability because you're constitutionally unable to bear losing a card game. embarrassing. but getting caught with 20 cards, then trying to leap over the sofa only to get dragged back and beaten with sofa cushions for ten minutes? all while cackling about how blind everyone had to be to not notice sooner? thats a professional. thats how you die with honor.

good cheating has to be catchable. it has to be blatant. it has to be shameless. it cannot be done for real stakes. there should be no element of plausible deniability. there should be some kind of clear understanding that to the cheater, the cheating was more important than the winning. in games of skill, you should only cheat when facing opponents of higher skill than you, and you should never cheat for a minor advantage. big or nothing.

did i always meet that standard? no. but i knew the answers well enough to get my license, and by the time i had two digits to my age, by god, i stuck to my code like velcro. god will forgive an 8 year old of murder, but 10 year olds have to have standards.

i dont know why anyone else misses analog board games, but to me, it's because physical parts let me cheat. there's no moving pieces around when someone isnt looking in a chess app, no sneaking bonus pieces out of the graveyard in checkers, no double drawing cards in go fish.

i spent years developing those skills as a Professional Little Brother. what am i supposed to do now, go back to college? learn how to play games the right way? i mean, who gives a shit? the fun part was never the game, it was the Getting Away With It. or, you know, for the rest of my family, Catching The Bastard. now that was entertainment.

[spatialwave]

pairing: namgyu x fem!reader x myunggi word count: 2.2k tags: mdni, nsfw, m x f x m, smut, p w/o plot, oral (f/m receiving), rough s-x, unprotected s-x, sub!reader, the fic where reader gets tag teamed by player 124 + 333. notes: written for this post by @fleshrtten

Obsessed didn’t cut it. Namgyu was infatuated with you—all that you were: your smile, your voice, your body. The moment he laid eyes on you that first day, he knew that his heart was jumping headfirst into everything about you. You made his stomach swirl like a schoolgirl with a crush.

That’s why once he and Myunggi found you in a room, trying to hide away from the other players, he had you pressed to the wall with your legs spread wide and his head between your thighs, tasting you and savouring you like a starved man.

You were just as obsessed with him, but Myunggi? Well, it’s not like you were going to say no to the idea of having both of these men have their way with you. You were deranged and needy, but not as desperate as the man who whined as he ate you out. He was pathetic, so pathetic, and you loved it. 

Your knees dared to buckle as you held onto his black hair, hard enough that your knuckles began to turn white. You focused on only him, shuddering when he’d flutter his thick lashes and look up at you with those fox-like eyes with blown-out pupils. His tongue delved deep into your cunt, lapping at you as his nose bumped your swollen clit that had been begging to be touched.

“Namgyu,” you whined, toes curling in your white shoes. He responded by pulling your right leg over his left shoulder. The position made it so he was able to spread you further—smiling against your cunt as you nearly toppled over and it wasn’t until Myunggi caught you that you remembered he had been watching the door.

Your mind was so fuzzy with pleasure that you hadn’t been aware of the words they exchanged—some sort of bickering until Namgyu pulled away and went to the door to keep watch. 

It was then you found yourself on your knees, hands on the clothed thighs of Myunggi as he guided your mouth to the tip of his cock. Long, slender fingers tangled in your hair, gripping tight as you took all of him in without a struggle.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, looking at you with parted lips. For once, he was glad he listened to Namgyu.

Your hands on his thighs tightened, fingernails scratching at the fabric as you buried your nose into the tuft of hair on his skin. Myunggi let you do the rest of the work, watching as you bobbed your head up and down slowly, savouring his taste. Your tongue swirled, saliva dripped out of the corners of your lips, and your mouth watered because of him.

“Isn’t she a pretty girl?” Namgyu’s voice cut through your daze, closer than you had anticipated. He’d forgotten about the door. “Be grateful I’m letting you share.”

He was kneeling behind you, greedy hands pushing under your shirt and blue vest. Bloody fingers pinched your nipples, and you gasped around Myunggi’s cock, and he cussed.

“Don’t stop,” he spat angrily.

Namgyu kept his touch on your tits, squeezing and fondling to his liking. He pushed past your hair, lips pressing kisses to your skin—growing harder with each passing second at the filthy sounds of you sucking off Myunggi. 

“If you didn’t let me make her cum, she doesn’t get to make you—” Namgyu snapped, looking up at Myunggi and wrapping a hand around your throat to pull you from him. Your lips parted from his cock with a soft pop and he growled deep in his throat, forced to stroke himself as his temporary partner indulged in you instead. “I like you more,” he whimpered in your ear, guiding your back to the floor, hand still on your throat.

You looked at him with heavy eyelids, and he eyed your puffy, swollen lips. 

Fingers hooked into your sweats, and he tugged them down until the fabric hung around one ankle, allowing him to spread you as freely as he wanted. You whimpered, exposed to both him and the eyes of Myunggi who stood with his back to the wall, a hand stroking as you watching beads of precum leak from the tip and god you were so fucked out because all you wanted was to crawl to your knees and get a taste.

“Pretty girl,” Namgyu whispered, hands on the backs of your thighs as he pushed your knees to your chest. Shifting, soon one hand held them in place together, blocking your view of everything except for the dark ceiling.

A sudden intrusion made you mewl, his middle finger pushing in until you felt the cool metal of his ring. His narrowed eyes fixated on your cunt, watching as you coated his fingers with a milky white fluid that he wanted to taste. Though, he was more pleased by the soft sounds you were making as he fucked you with his fingers. Adding a second, then a third until you were squirming at the stretch.

“S’too much,” you gasped, reaching around your thighs and trying to grab at his wrists, but they were soon pinned back above your head by Myunggi, who’d grown bored of watching.

By now, Namgyu had knelt closer to the floor. His voice muffled as he lapped at your clit, “You can take it, pretty girl. I know you can.” he whispered, continuing the slow motions of his three fingers pushing in and out of your wet pussy. It was so tight, and his cock was twitching in anticipation of being able to fuck you like he’d been dreaming for days. 

Myunggi knelt by your head, looking down at you with half-lidded, glossy eyes that made you shiver. He released your wrists, watching with a slight smirk as you reached for his exposed cock and stroked with your hands that felt a hundred times better than his. A rumble came from his throat, eyes fluttering closed as you arched your back up so you could tilt back further, enough that your outstretched tongue lapped up the precum that left a salty taste in your mouth.

“What happened to taking turns?” Namgyu grumbled, giving up on keeping your legs pressed to your chest. He sucked on your clit as your legs relaxed. The walls of your cunt still tight around his fingers, but loosening with each push of his bundled digits. “No fair—”

“Shut… up….” Myunggi groaned, stroking near the base of his cock as your perfect pink lips tried to wrap around it.

You were overstimulated—your nerves lit up at every end. With Namgyu fucking your pussy with his fingers, sucking on your clit, and Myunggi trying to push his cock further down your throat, you realized you’d never been so devoured in your life.

Namgyu curled his fingers as best as he could, finding that spot buried in your cunt that he knew would make you want more of him. You briefly gagged on Myunggi’s cock when he did, whining out as he took your opened mouth as a chance to bury himself in all the way. You let him, feeling the way he hit the back of your throat, his bloody hand feeling the expanse of your throat stretch as he pushed as far in as he could.

After a few more forwards thrusts, he pulled out and stroked himself, pathetic moans coming from him strings of hot white cum splattered over your face and blue vest.

Your throat was raw, and still, you stuck your tongue out and ignored the sting.

“My turn,” Namgyu hissed, and you had only realized then that your cunt was empty and aching for more. Over the rough flooring, Namgyu tugged you until you were pulled far enough from a recovering Myunggi that you couldn’t reach him even if you tried. Leaning forward, you whimpered when he licked off a string of cum over your chin. “You’re mine, right now, yeah? No looking at him, just me… okay? Tell me, pretty girl, please—”

You saw the desperation in his eyes as he looked down at you.

“Just yours,” you managed to say. 

“Again,” he begged, hands pushing up your shirt until until your perky tits were exposed and he licked up the rest of the cum from your cheeks and chin. “Please, one more time, pretty girl. One more time so I can fuck you better than Myunggi ever could—”

“Watch it,” he huffed from the door. He’d back sprawled back against it, his cock limp and twitching. Stroking the overstimulated erection in hopes that he could steal you from Namgyu before the timer went off.

Namgyu smiled against your neck, teeth sinking into the skin and sucking a deep-coloured bruise. 

“Yours, all yours,” you groaned, the pain of his sharp teeth making your cunt ache more at the emptiness. “Fuck me, Namgyu, please—”

You heard the sounds of shifting as he moved atop of you, hands pushing down his sweats and pulling out his cock that wasn’t much longer than Myunggi’s, but from what you could see, was thicker. Your toes curled, and you were right. 

Namgyu let out an egregiously vulgar sound as the head of his cock pushed in. He knelt back, sitting upright as he gave himself the best view to watch your tight pussy contract around him.

“Ah, fuck!” You let out a sharp gasp, the stretch unlike anything you’ve taken before. You didn’t notice the proud smile on his face from your reaction; he was now focused only on relaxing enough to make this more pleasurable and less painful. Namgyu liked you enough to make sure he wasn’t being completely selfish, his thumb finding it’s way to your clit and starting a rhythm of circled motions.

“Tell me,” he murmured, half-way inside, “tell me how badly you want me to fuck you.”

“So bad,” you whined, your legs wrapping lazily around his hips, hands grabbing at your tits as a distraction of the fiery pain of the stretch, “Don’t stop.”

Namgyu bottomed you out, breathing heavily as he got used to the tight feeling of your cunt squeezing impossibly hard around him. He rutted against you, grinding, milking out those sounds from your throat that were so sweet.

You felt like you were going to pass out when he started fucking you—a relentless pace as he pressed a hand flat to your stomach to keep himself balanced, the other hand still focused on rubbing quick circles on your clit. When you tried to close your eyes, he’d grab your face. Fingers pinching at your cheeks as he’d ask you so nicely to keep looking at him.

That was the difference between him and Myunggi. Namgyu liked you too much; you were the only person he had a soft spot for. He wanted to beg for you. To ask you nicely and make sure that everything he was doing was to please you. Myunggi didn’t care about you; he didn’t care if he was too rough or too selfish.

“Shit—” Namgyu choked, having been leaning forward against you, face buried into your neck where he left more hickeys. 

He had kept up the relentless pace, his cock stretching you so deep with his thrust. He was close—his whimpers in your ear were evident of it. After one hard thrust, and a tight squeeze of your walls, his cock twitched and he came inside you so much it leaked. He rutted into you with an erratic rhythm as you clawed at the back of his red vest, tearing the fabric slightly with your nails. You weren’t far behind, his circling thumb causing a fire to build so deep in your tummy that it snapped right as he pulled out—and you were left clenching around nothing, mewling like a cat in heat as your thighs twitched.

Myunggi wasn’t ashamed of how hard that made him. He’d crawled closer to you, grabbing your hips roughly and pulling you to him. As Namgyu’s cum leaked out of you, Myunggi used his cock to push it back inside with a rought thrust, fucking you as you came.

“Oh god,” you gasped, thighs squeezing tight together, but he forced one away. The other hand pressed to your clit, four of his fingers brushing over the nub wildly and just as your climax ended, another one snapped and you felt yourself coming undone by him. You released, your squirting juices wetting the sweats clinging to his thighs, and even up onto his red vest. “S-sorry—” is all you managed to sputter out as you arched your back, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

Myunggi didn’t say anything, nor did he let up. His cock stretching you with each sharp snap of his hips.

That’s how you spent the next fifteen minutes—having either one of them tag team you every few minutes. You’d never come so much in your life, your pussy abused and raw. By the end, you were full of so much cum it hardly stayed and instead coated your thighs and the floor of wherever they fucked you. 

You were so goddamned glad that they were the ones to stumble into the room.

[sereia4skz]

just jisung being really loud while getting head from reader…

drabble | one more time, please

pairing: han x f!reader

genre: smut

warnings: subby!han?, overstimulation, blowjob, teasing

word count: ~700

masterlist: A-Side (texts) | B-Side (written)

He’s already a mess, sweat clings to his hairline, mouth open around a string of high-pitched whimpers, thighs shaking around your shoulders like he’s seconds from combusting, and you’ve barely even started.

Your tongue swirls slowly around the head of his cock, and he sobs.

“Ngh, ahh, fuck, fuck, baby- s-stop, wait, I-I can’t!”

You glance up at him with a smug little smile, letting your lips slip off him with a wet pop. “Stop?” you echo, slow and saccharine. “But you’re so hard, Ji. And leaking. You sure you want me to stop?”

His face is burning. He shakes his head wildly, curls flopping across his damp forehead, even as his hips try to inch back from your mouth.

“N-No- I mean, yes… no, just too much, you’re too…”

You cut him off with a stroke of your tongue along that sensitive underside, just the way he likes it. He wails, the sound breaking high and breathy in his throat. His back lifts off the bed.

“Oh my god,” he gasps, voice cracking. “I sound- f-fuck, I sound so stupid!”

“You sound hot,” you purr against the base of his cock, pressing a soft kiss to the flushed skin. “Bet the whole building knows how good I make you feel. How needy you are. So loud for me, baby. You’re not even trying to be quiet.”

“I can’t,” he whines, trembling as you take him in again slowly. “You’re s-so- fuck, that’s not f-fair!”

You suck a little harder, flattening your tongue against him just right, and he screeches.

Full-on, choked, desperate scream, half orgasm, half breakdown.

His legs kick against the bed, hands fumbling uselessly at the sheets like he needs to anchor himself to something. His voice goes breathless and wrecked.

“Please, please, I-I’m close, don’t stop, don’t stop, I’ll be good- just please!”

You pull back right before he tips over, leaving him flushed and leaking and whining at nothing.

His hips lift off the mattress like he’s chasing your mouth.

You coo sweetly, fingers gently teasing the slick head of his cock. “You gonna scream for me again, baby? You think you can come nice and loud for me?”

He moans like he’s being tortured, hands covering his face, too shy to answer out loud but his body giving him away completely, as he whines embarrassed.

You stroke him once, slow and tight, and he chokes out a moan so loud it echoes off the walls. You watch him tremble under your hands, panting like he’s run miles, eyes glossy and unfocused as you stroke him nice and slow, too slow, really.

“Y-You’re teasing,” he slurs out, voice all breathy and broken. “I c-can’t take it, please, just fuck, your mouth, need it!”

You don’t say anything. Just smirk, leaning in again, letting your tongue flick lazily at his tip. He throws his head back and screams.

“F-Fuck! There, right there… don’t stop- don’t, please!”

You take him deep again without warning, wrapping your lips around him and hollowing your cheeks, and that’s all it takes.

Jisung shatters.

“AHHH- ohh, f-fuck, I’m?!” His entire body goes taut, back arched, legs locked around your shoulders like a vice. He’s moaning so loudly, desperate, helpless, sobbing your name as he spills into your mouth.

You don’t stop, not right away. You keep sucking, swallowing, licking him through every twitch and pulse while he cries out, breath catching and hiccuping on each ragged exhale.

He’s trembling, tears prickling the corners of his eyes.

“F-Fuck, baby… too much-too much, I c-can’t-ngh,”

But just as you go to pull off: “…don’t stop.”

Your brow lifts. You glance up to see him blinking down at you, flushed and ruined, cock still twitching in your hand.

He’s still hard.

“Please,” he breathes. “I know I just- just came, but I-I wanna feel it again- wanna feel your mouth, wanna be good, please, I c-can take it!”

“Oh, baby,” you croon, wrapping your hand around his oversensitive length again. “You’re so greedy. Didn’t I just let you come down my throat?”

He whines at the memory, hips bucking weakly as you drag your tongue along the underside once more.

His voice cracks. “I know, I know, I just- fuck, it felt so good- hurts but I want it, I want you to- hah.. ngh, p-please, I’ll be good, I promise!”

You giggle softly, taunting. “You’re overstimulating yourself, you know that? Still begging for more when you’re already this sensitive?”

His eyes flutter, mouth slack as he moans helplessly. “C-Can’t help it, your mouth’s too good- I’ll cry if you stop, I swear-”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” you murmur.

taglist: @diekleinesuesse @tillaboo @felixsonlyrealwife @geni-627 @skz8riley @lezleeferguson-120 @pixie-felix @headfirstfortoro @alnex05 @baby-stay92 @encoredesires @androgynouscrownorbit @channiesluvrclub @my-neurodivergent-world @chims-dimple @bookswillfindyouaway @stellasays45 @angel-writes-skz-here @m-325 @0sunshinecryptid0 @beal-o @hug4helios @oksullen @rileylovescats @dreamyfelixx @yxna-bliss @turtledove824 @enhacolor @skzz0213 @hannahlue @purplelady85 @velvetmoonlght @inishij @bangchanspineapple @straykids4lifeee @peskybirdysya @gnabsss @zayn-210 @wolfhallows4 @katsukis1wife @sammhisphere @bangchanspineapple @sunfk88 @sillyseob @rougegenshin @yaorzu-blog

[engineering-a-better-world]

[ID: the reaction meme “Sometimes… things that are expensive… are worse” from the YouTube series The Gay And Wondrous Life of Caleb Gallo. The photo has a person holding a doorframe and dramatically looking over their shoulder to look just off camera. The dialogue is edited to say “Sometimes… things that are new… are worse”. End ID]

I finally understand my grandparents grumbling about how things change over the years. My own grumbling is only gonna get worse.

“It’s just the way things are now.” Why does it have to change? Why can’t I choose to keep the old way sometimes?

Let me turn off search engine AI overviews. Let me unlock my car without my phone. Let me plug in wired earbuds that don’t have to charge and don’t risk me losing one of the AirPods or whatever. Let me ask the cashier questions about the food instead of using a machine that can’t tell me about allergens. Let me curate my experience without an algorithm (big pro of Tumblr). Let me connect DVDs or CDs to my devices. Let me have spellcheck that isn’t enshittified by random users misspelling things. Let me use tricks that give me the exact search I’m asking for (minus to remove words from the results, quotation marks to find the exact phrase and exact spelling, etc.).

I have the phone aux dongle. I have the USB connected CD/DVD reader. It’s still getting harder and harder to cling to some things despite them being beneficial, especially in emergencies and for people in poverty. No one without a smart phone or whose phone accidentally lost power should be left unable to drive a car, fill their public transport card, or log into a website that demands two factor authentication. People should be able to check out movies and music from the public library and easily listen to/watch it. It’s not just that I don’t want to learn new technology, but that the old technology had its benefits that aren’t talked about enough.

New doesn’t necessarily mean better! I get that things change, but not all change is improvement!

maybe i like my tech a little bit inconvenient

[seraphicby]

What Else Is Pink?

Nien x Male Reader

1.7k+

You're 18, in your last year of high school.

Nien. She's 22, a college student who's always been cold, snappy, and loves to tease you until you lose it. Since your mom married her dad five years ago, she's always picking on you with her sharp comments. Her new pink hair makes her stand out even more, bold, confident, and always in your face.

Tonight, with your parents away for the weekend, it's just you and her, the house feels different, like something's about to happen.

You're slouched on the living room couch, scrolling through your phone, the TV playing some show you're barely watching.

Nien walks in, her pink hair catching your eyes. She's wearing a loose crop top that shows a bit of her stomach and tight shorts that hug her hips.

She drops onto the couch next to you, "Hey, loser. Still stuck to that phone? no girls chasing after the high school, kid?" she says, her voice teasing as usual.

You roll your eyes, "At least I don't look like I fell into a cotton candy machine," you say, nodding at her bright pink hair. "What's next? pink eyebrows?"

She laughs, leaning closer, "Guess..." she says, her voice low and playful, "Besides my hair, what else is pink?" Her smile turns sly.

You freeze, thrown off by her flirty tone. Nien's always been the mean, teasing step sister, but this feels new, bold, almost risky, like she's pushing you to react.

Your heart beats faster, but you try to act cool, "Your... toes?" you say, but your voice shakes a bit, and she catches it, her grin growing.

"What...? no..." she snort, leaning so close her snort tickles your ear.

"My pussy, idiot. Wet, pink, and clean."

Her words shocked you, your cock instantly stirring in your jeans before you can think. She's never been this before.

"Nien, what the heck?" you say, shifting back,

She doesn't let up. She swings a leg over you, sitting on your lap, her hands on your shoulders. Your phone slips onto the couch, forgotten.

"Don't be such a kid," she teases, her voice soft and daring. "You're 18 now. Can't handle a little fun?"

Her fingers slide down your chest, and you swallow hard, your cock's getting harder.

"Stop it, Nien," you say weak, you're not sure whether to push her away or pull her closer.

She leans in, her lips brushing your ear. "Wanna see how pink I am?" she whispers.

Before you can answer, she kisses you, hard, needy, her lips soft but hungry. Your brain yells that this is wrong, she's your step sister... but your body doesn't listen. You kiss her back, hands grabbing her waist, pulling her closer as the heat takes over. Her tongue meets yours, and you groan, your dick fully hard, pressing against your jeans.

She pulls back, smirking, "Not so shy now, huh?" she says, grinding her hips against you, and you can feel her warmth through her shorts.

"You like that, don't you?"

Your hands slide under her crop top, touching her bare skin, and she gasps as your fingers brush her sides, moving toward her boobs. You push her top up, revealing her bra, pink, like her hair.

"They're pink too..." she says, unhooking it and tossing it aside.

Her bare boobs are perfect, perky, tight, and you stare before leaning in, kissing her neck, sucking softly. "God, Nien..." you mutter, your lips moving to her chest, taking a nipple in your mouth, sucking as she moans.

"Yes, keep going," she says, her voice shaky, her hands in your hair.

She reaches for your jeans, unzipping them, "Let's see your little man," she teases, sliding her hand inside to stroke you through your boxers.

"Damn, you're fucking hard already," she says, smirking.

She pulls your boxers down, your dick springing free, and her hand wraps around it, stroking slowly, "Not bad for a kid," she says.

"Shut up," you groan, your head falling back as she strokes you, her touch driving you crazy.

"Wanna taste me first?" she asks, standing to slip off her shorts and panties, pink and soaked. She straddles you again, higher now, her wet, pink pussy right above your face.

"Go on, lick it," she says, her voice low, "Taste how wet I am."

You pull her down, your tongue finding her slick pussy, licking her clit as she moans loudly. "Fuck, that's good," she gasps, grinding against your mouth, her hands pulling your hair. She tastes sweet, her wetness coating your tongue, and you lick harder, making her hips shake. "Oh, shit, right there," she moans, her voice rough.

She slides down, straddling your lap again, her wet pussy brushing your dick. "You're good with your tongue," she says, grinning, "Now let's see how you fuck."

She grabs your dick, guiding it to her entrance, "You want this pussy, don't you?" she teases, sinking onto you, her tight, wet heat gripping you.

You both moan, and you grab her hips, helping her move as she rides you, slow at first, "God, you're tight," you groan, thrusting up to meet her, the sound of her wet pussy on your dick filling the room.

"Fuck, you so slow," she moves faster, her boobs bouncing with each thrust.

"How?" she asks, her voice breathy.

"Fuck! so fucking good," you grab her butt, squeezing as you fuck her harder, the couch creaking. She leans down, kissing you messily, moaning into your mouth.

"Don't stop, keep fucking me," she gasps, you can feel her pussy tightening inside.

"I'm gonna cum," she moans, her body shaking, her hips grinding faster.

"Me too," you groan, the pressure building.

She cums first, crying out, her pussy squeezing your dick, and you pull out just in time, your cum spilling across her stomach and thighs, warm and messy.

She collapses against you, panting, her pink hair sticking to her sweaty forehead. "Damn," she laughs, "Didn't know you could fuck like that."

You grab her hips, flipping her onto her stomach on the couch in one swift move. She gasps, caught off guard, but laughs softly, pushing her ass up toward you, inviting.

"Fuck, you're bold now," she says, glancing back at you, her pink hair falling messily over her shoulder. "Go on, show me what you've got."

You position yourself behind her, your hands gripping her hips as you line up your cock, already hard again. Her pussy is still wet, glistening, and you slide in slowly, savoring the way she moans, her back arching.

God, yes," she breathes, her voice shaky, "Fuck me like that."

You thrust into her, deeper this time, the angle letting you hit her core, and she pushes back against you, meeting each thrust with a soft whimper.

"Like this?” you ask, your voice low, thrusting harder, the sound of your bodies colliding filling the room. Her ass bounces against you, and you grab a handful, squeezing as you pound into her, "You're so fucking tight, Nien."

"Don't stop," she moans, her hands gripping the couch cushions, her knuckles white, "Harder, come on."

You thrust faster, your balls slapping against her with each move, her moans growing louder, her pink hair swaying with every thrust.

But you want more, something even closer. You pull out, and she whines in protest, looking back at you. "What the hell?" she says, but you're already moving, pulling her up and pushing her toward the wall near the bookshelf.

She stumbles slightly, laughing, but her eyes are dark with want, "Oh, you're getting fancy now," she teases, as you pin her against the wall, her back to you, her hands bracing against it.

"Shut up," you say, grinning, and she laughs again, you lift one of her legs hooking it over your shoulder, "Ohh... nice move," she gasps.

She's taller than you, her body flexible. You stand on your tiptoes, your smaller build straining as you line up your cock with her pussy.

"You're gonna feel this," you say, you're fucking horny right now.

She smirks, "You're just standing on your tiptoes, how can you fuck me like this?" she says, her voice daring.

You don't care about that, you slide thrust hard into her.

"Fuck!!" she moans loudly, her head tipping back against the wall, her pink hair sticking to her sweaty neck.

"Yes, like that," she gasps, her hands gripping your arms as you thrust up into her, your tiptoes barely keeping you steady. Her pussy clenches around you, wet and hot, and you can feel every inch of her, the position making it feel like you're deeper than ever.

"You like that, huh?" you groan, thrusting harder, your hands holding her hips to keep her steady, "God, you're so fucking good."

"Again...," she moans, her voice breaking. "Fuck me harder, don't you dare stop." Her leg on your shoulder trembles, her body arching into you.

"You lean in, kissing her neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. She cries out, her nails digging into your arms, and you can feel her getting close, her pussy tightening with every thrust.

"Shit, Nien, I'm gonna cum," you groan, your balls tightening, the pressure building fast. You thrust a few more times, the sensation overwhelming,

Then you pull out, "Fuck...!" your hand wrapping your cock as you stroke yourself quickly.

She drops to her knees in front of you, “Give it to me,” looking up with that teasing smirk, her eyes locked on yours.

"Erghh...!" you groan loudly, your cum spilling across her face, dripping over her lips and chin, some catching in her pink hair.

She licks her lips, grinning, and wipes her face with the back of her hand, "Damn, that's a lot," she says breathless.

"Fuck..." you mutter, catching your breath, your legs shaky from standing on your tiptoes. "That was..."

"Insane?" she finishes, laughing softly. "Yeah, you're not half bad, little bro."

Since those intense moments with Nien changed everything.

The cold, teasing step sister you knew morphed into something else, a secret shared in stolen moments.

Ever since that, you and Nien can't keep your hands off each other.

It's like a switch flipped, every day, anytime your parents aren't home, you're at it, on the couch, in her room, against the kitchen counter. Her pink hair bounces as she rides you, her moans filling the house, her teasing now laced with desire.

"Fuck, you're getting good at this," she'll say.

You’ve learned her body, her sounds, the way she cums when you hit just the right spot. It's reckless, dangerous, but the thrill keeps you both coming back.

You know it's wrong, step siblings shouldn't cross this line, but you don't talk about what it means, or if it'll last.

[maskedbyghost]

In Sickness, In Health, In Surveillance (2)

Synopsis: To spy on a dangerous neighbor, you and Simon have to pretend you’re married, even though you’re constantly at each other’s throats. The longer you fake it, the harder it gets to keep your distance.

Tags/CW: slow burn, fake marriage, undercover mission, forced proximity, invasion of privacy, mild violence, explicit sexual content

Masterlist

The tour of the house didn’t take long.

It wasn’t small, but it wasn’t big either. Just enough space to feel like you were supposed to settle in and make memories or whatever. three steps from the living room to the kitchen, two turns down the hallway to the bedrooms, and every corner filled with furniture that was too clean, and obviously picked out by some intern in the intel department who probably googled something like suburban interior vibes and called it a day.

Simon didn’t say much as he moved through it all. Just kept walking, glancing at things without really looking at them, making mental notes in that calculating way of his that already made your skin itch.

You followed a few feet behind, arms crossed, your eyes moving over the fake decor and the perfectly placed picture frames. There were slippers by the door, matching robes hanging in the bathroom, and a half-finished crossword puzzle open on the coffee table.

The bedrooms were down the hall, one on each side, both similar in size, both painted the same soft gray that was supposed to feel relaxing but just made everything feel colder.

You stopped in the doorway of the master, watching as Simon stepped inside and glanced around like he was scanning for cameras, even though they’d already been told there weren’t any. King-sized bed, two nightstands, dresser, closet. Nothing fancy.

He turned slightly when he noticed you hadn’t followed him in.

You stayed where you were. “So. Sleeping arrangements.”

He blinked once. “Yeah.”

You crossed your arms tighter. “I don’t care where you sleep, but we should keep both our stuff in here. Just in case.”

He didn’t ask what you meant. You both knew.

If Delaney or his wife decided to pop by, if someone got curious, if anyone snooped, they’d expect to see signs of a shared life. Two people in one room, with clothes mixed in the closet. Toothbrushes side by side. Little things that mattered more than anyone wanted to admit.

Simon looked around again, then nodded once.

“Fine. I’ll take the other room.”

You stepped into the master now, walking past him toward the closet, opening it up just to see how much space you were working with. “Don’t spread out over there. If it looks too lived-in, it’ll raise questions.”

“Wasn’t planning to decorate,” he muttered, setting his duffel down on the end of the bed.

You didn’t look at him as you pulled open the top drawer of the dresser. “And leave your boots in here, the nice ones.”

You placed a few shirts in the drawer and closed it again.

“This is already hell,” you said, almost under your breath.

Simon didn’t turn around. “You picked the job.”

“No,” you corrected, grabbing your toothbrush from your bag and heading toward the bathroom, “I picked intelligence work. Not a fake marriage with a man who hates me.”

“Guess we’re both suffering, then,” he called after you.

You left the bathroom door open, letting the sound of your toothbrush hitting the cup echo a little louder than it needed to. The floor creaked behind you, and you didn’t turn when he passed by the door, heading toward the second bedroom at the end of the hall with his bag slung over one shoulder.

No goodnight. No see you later.

Just footsteps and silence and a house that already felt too full.

-

You couldn’t sleep.

You weren’t even trying, really. You were just lying there in the dark with the covers bunched around your legs and the bedroom ceiling somewhere above you, waiting for your brain to settle and knowing it wouldn’t. The bed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it didn’t feel like yours, nothing in the house did, and the whole thing was already starting to crawl under your skin in a way you couldn’t shake.

Eventually, you gave up and made your way down the hall, bare feet quiet against the floor, already expecting to find him awake. And of course, you were right.

Simon was in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a mug in front of him, shoulders relaxed but not at ease, like he wasn’t tired enough to sleep but too on edge to do anything else. The lights were off except for the dim one above the sink, and the kettle was still warm when you touched it, so he hadn’t been there long.

You grabbed your own mug and poured the rest of the water, not saying anything as you sat across from him. The table was small, and you were close enough to feel how tense the silence between you was. You hadn’t spoken much since unpacking, just a few short sentences about where things should go, and nothing else.

For a while, it stayed like that. The occasional shift of your mug on the table, the faint creak of the house settling.

“We’re not just watching him,” you said eventually, voice low, more to break the tension than anything else. “We’re testing how far he’s willing to go. If he’s connected to anything serious, we’ll know within the first week.”

Simon gave a small nod. “He’s careful. But not perfect.”

“He won’t trust us overnight,” you said. “But his wife might.”

He looked at you then, enough to make sure you knew he was listening.

“She’s the one who waves from the window. She’s the one who makes cookies. If anyone’s gonna bring us into their little circle, it’s her.”

“She’ll like you,” he said.

You raised an eyebrow. “What makes you so sure?”

“You’re good at smiling when you’re lying.”

You blinked. “That supposed to be a compliment?”

“It’s supposed to be useful.”

You leaned back a little in your chair, mug still in your hands, fingers warm around the ceramic. “If we’re doing this, you need to try a little too. You can’t just stand around looking bored and hope no one notices. We’re supposed to be married, not roommates who barely speak.”

He didn’t argue. But he didn’t agree either.

“You don’t have to flirt or be charming,” you added. “Just... try not to look like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

He gave a slow shrug, like the request didn’t faze him but also didn’t promise anything.

“I’m not doing all the talking,” you said. “I’m not carrying this whole thing while you grunt your way through conversations and hope no one finds it weird.”

Simon looked at you, quiet for a second too long. “I’ll do what I need to do.”

You nodded, jaw tightening just a little, not out of anger but because you already knew how this would go.

“We need to get the story straight,” you said after a second, softer now. “How we met. How long we’ve been together. Where we lived before this.”

“Met at a hardware store.” he said immediately, like he’d already memorized it.

You blinked. “That’s the story you want to go with? A hardware store?”

He didn’t even flinch. “Simple and easy to remember.”

“Right,” you muttered, setting your mug down, “nothing says romantic origin story like locking eyes over a box of screws.”

Simon stared at you flatly. “Would you rather say a pub? That’s where people go to meet strangers and cheat on their wives.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Okay, hardware store it is.”

He nodded once. “You were buying paint. I was getting drill bits. We argued over who was next in line.”

You stared at him for a second, mostly because it sounded too rehearsed and annoyingly plausible. “Fine. How long were we dating before we got married?”

“Eighteen months.”

“That feels fast.”

“We’re in love.”

You snorted under your breath and leaned forward on your elbows. “Right. Completely head over heels, we hold hands when we walk.”

“Too much,” he said immediately.

“What, the hands?”

He gave you a pointed look. “You and I don’t hold hands.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You and I aren’t actually married.”

“Exactly.”

After a second, he leaned back in his chair again, arms crossed. “We’ll keep it simple.”

You nodded once. “Fine. No over-the-top affection. But enough that they don’t think we’re sleeping in separate beds.”

He didn’t answer that. Just held your stare for a second longer before finally picking up his mug again.

You leaned back too, quieter now, staring at the wood grain on the table. “You snore?”

“No.”

“You better not be lying.”

“I don’t lie,” he said, taking a slow sip.

You rolled your eyes and stood up, stretching your shoulders, already dreading the morning. “We’re gonna suck at this.”

Simon didn’t look at you. “Yeah. This’ll be a disaster.”

-

You didn’t think waking up in that house would be worse than falling asleep in it, but somehow, it was.

The bed was too warm, the light that slipped in through the blinds was blinding despite the overcast sky outside, and for a good five seconds, you forgot where you were when you opened your eyes and stared up at the ceiling.

It was the smell that grounded you, eventually, fresh paint, and the faint, sharp scent of whatever cleaning solution had been used to make the house feel "ready." None of it smelled familiar. None of it smelled like home.

By the time you got up and shuffled into the kitchen, Simon was already there, fully dressed and half through making tea, of course. He didn’t look at you when you walked in, just stepped slightly to the side to make room as you passed behind him and reached for your mug in the cabinet.

You filled your mug and leaned back against the counter, watching him stir his tea without looking rushed, already settled into his annoying little routine like he belonged here.

“You slept?” you asked, not because you cared, but because it felt too awkward not to say anything.

“A bit,” he said, still facing the kettle.

You nodded once and took a sip from your mug. It wasn’t good, but it was warm.

“Need to check the cameras later,” you said. “I want to make sure the angles catch the street without being too obvious.”

Simon finally looked at you. “I’ll handle that.”

You gave a small shrug. “Fine. I’ll go through the cover stories again. Just in case she asks anything weird.”

He didn’t respond. Just raised his mug to his mouth and took a slow drink like there was nothing urgent about any of this. You resisted the urge to tell him to blink more like a human being, but it was too early and not worth the effort.

It was only when you turned slightly toward the window that you saw her in the garden next door, watering the row of flowers that lined the little white fence separating your yards. Blonde hair up in a loose ponytail, sandals on despite the cool weather, a ridiculous pink watering can in one hand, and a little smile on her face.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath.

Simon followed your gaze, then moved a little closer to the window. “Michelle.”

“Yep.”

Neither of you moved at first. Just stood there, two half-awake soldiers in a borrowed kitchen, staring through the glass. And then she looked up and waved.

You waved back automatically, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Get your shoes.”

Simon didn’t argue. Just set his mug down and turned toward the door, already reaching for the loafers they’d picked out for him to wear.

You followed a second later, slipping into the backyard with a polite smile already fixed on your face and dread curled tight in your stomach. The grass was too green. The fence was too perfect. And Michelle? She was already walking toward you like she’d been waiting for this.

“Hi there!” Michelle called out as you stepped into the yard, watering can hanging loosely from one hand.

“Morning,” you said with a polite smile, stopping just short of the fence. Simon stayed close beside you, silently.

“You two must be the new couple next door!” she said, beaming. “I was going to wait until a more reasonable hour, but then I saw you through the window and I thought, well, why not?”

“I’m glad you did,” you said, offering a quick smile as you stepped closer to the fence. You gave her your names, and she nodded, still smiling as if you’d already passed some kind of invisible test.

“I’m Michelle. My husband, Mark, would’ve come to say hello too, but he had to run out early this morning. Some work thing, as usual. But he’ll be back later this afternoon. He’ll be thrilled to meet you both.”

Simon nodded once. “Nice to meet you.”

His voice was low, even, and just friendly enough. You resisted the urge to elbow him in the ribs.

Michelle leaned a little over the fence, gesturing toward the row of neat houses across the street. “We’re actually planning a little get-together later this week, just a casual thing in our backyard. Food, music, drinks, you know. We usually invite the neighbors a couple of times a year, and it’d be the perfect chance to welcome you in properly.”

You smiled like you hadn’t already guessed that was coming. “That sounds lovely.”

“A lot of people will be there,” she continued. “Just so you’re not surprised. It’s a little tradition now. The Johnsons next door bring this awful potato salad but no one tells them because they’re sweet. And the couple two houses down, Emma and James, they’ve been having marriage issues for the past five years, but always show up like they’re on their honeymoon. Honestly, it’s more entertaining than anything on Netflix.”

You let out a polite laugh, more from the ridiculous amount of information than anything else.

“I’ll text you the details,” she added. “It’s nothing formal, and don’t worry, we always end up with too much food, so no pressure to bring anything.”

Simon nodded again. “We’ll be there.”

You glanced at him, surprised he answered before you could, but Michelle didn’t seem to notice.

She checked her watch. “I better head in before the dog gets into the cereal again. But I’m really glad I caught you both. It’s so nice to finally have new faces on the block.”

“We’re happy to be here,” you said, and didn’t even flinch at the lie.

Michelle smiled again, gave one final wave, and turned back toward her house, already humming something to herself as she disappeared through the side door.

The second it closed, you let your shoulders drop and glanced at Simon. “Look at us. Already the picture of suburban bliss.”

Simon didn’t blink. “You smiled too much.”

“You didn’t smile enough.”

He gave you a blank look. “I said more than you thought I would.”

You huffed out a breath, starting back toward the house. “Yeah, and it’s already terrifying.”

He followed a step behind, hands in his pockets, voice low as the door shut behind you.

“This week’s gonna be hell.”

You turned to him, reaching for your mug again with a small smirk. “Better get used to smiling, sweetheart.”

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate @xocandyy @nightfwn @robinfeldt98 @xiisblogs @mad-die45 @readingthingy @actualpoppy @amongthe141 @whore4romance @thatghostlykid @syofrelief @avgdestitute @sheepdogchick3 @echo9821 @imalapdog @foxintheferns @trulovekay @ruleroftides @rose37373 @succulambb @havoc973 @jajouska @fruitymoonbeams-blog @cece2608 @starryylies @silmarilniky @venavanup @lostintransist @m00nl1gh4 @fertilise-me @blush-haze @sigynxlokiwifelover @dollfwn

[whimsicalwritersstuff]

hi beautiful 🩵 I read all your work and is perrrfect!!!! can I request joel miller x reader where they break up *idk why but they did* and joel is always texting her, stalking her, nnd one night Joel invites her to dinner at his house, (and she goes bc she loves him) he makes everything super romantic, and while they're having dinner he says, "When are you coming back? Come back home, babygirl." And the end is up to u 💖❤️‍🔥 this get super long omg sorry. Thank you so much

── "Come back home, Babygirl."

Pairings: Joel miller x fem!reader

No outbreak-

Content warnings: 18+ ONLY, minors DNI. Break-up & reconciliation, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampies, soft dominance. praise & dirty talk, soft obsession, dom!Joel, sub!reader, Established Relationship.

Summary: You and Joel broke up. Neither of you ever moved on. Weeks pass. He keeps texting, watching. You try to stay strong. Until the night he invited you to dinner, just one night.

Just one night to see him again.

But when Joel miller loves, he doesn't let go easy. And tonight? He's not letting you walk out again.

Word count: 1.399

The sky was dusky, that soft blue gray that happens just before the stars really show themselves. You stood at the edge of Joel's porch, arms crossed tightly over your chest, heart in your throat.

You shouldn't be here.

You should've ignored the text.

"Just dinner. Just us. 7pm. - J."

No strings, he said.

But Joel miller never played with string.

He wrapped people in chains.

You knock. Soft. Then harder.

The door creaks open before you can second guess it again.

And there he is.

Joel.

Older. Grayer. Those frown lines deeper. His sallr and pepper beard trimmed, his hair abit longer. But his eyes- those damn eyes, look at you like no time passed at all.

"Hey, baby."

Your stomach flips.

"Dont call me that."

He doesn't apologize. Of course he dosent. Just steps aside so you can walk in, bjs scent immediately wrapping around you. Cedarwood, leather and the faint spice of the chili in the kitchen.

You swallow hard.

"Smells good."

"Been cookin' all day," be says. "Wanted it to be right."

His voice is softer than usual. That careful tone he used to use when you cried. When you were in his bed and afraid to admit you loved him.. you look around. The table's set. Candles lit. Two glasses of red wine. Cloth napkins. Joel miller set out cloth napkins.

"You never did this when we were together."

"yeah," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. "I fucked a lotta things up when we were together."

Your heart clenches, but ouu don't let it show, you sit stiffly at the table. Joel follows, handing you your wine like it's fragile.

The dinner passes in waves, quiet at first. Then warner. Easier.

He tells you about how work is. About Sarah. How he'd been learning to grow tomatoes in his spare time. You laugh once, then cover your mouth, guilty for smiling.

He just watches you with that look.

The one that says you were never gone to him.

~~~

Later, you're helping him clean up. He never insists on drying, even though he never used to.

And then it happens.

He turns to you slowly, leans against the sink, towel still in hand, His voice low. "When are you coming back?"

You blink.

"Joel-"

"Come back home, babygirl...

That word.

That voice.

That ache.

You freeze, heart hammering, mouth dry.

"You don't get to call me that. Not after everything..."

"I do" he says, stepping closee. "Because you're still mine. You don't have to say it. I know it. I see it every time you look at mekke like your chest's on fire."

He reaches out, fingers brushing your wrist. Gentle. Hesitant. But not weak. "I know I pushed you away. Got scared. Got angry. Said shit I did t mean. But you-"

His voice cracks.

"You never stopped being home to me."

The room is spinning. Your breath feels caught between now and everything that uaedtobe.

You should say no.

You should say it's too late.

But Joel steps closer, hands now at your waist, his forehead pressing against yours. "Please... Just come home. Let me fix it. Let me love you right..."

You look up into those pleading brown eyes and you realize: this man would burn the world down to keep you.

His lips bover just above yours, breath trembling against your mihtb like he's scared you'll disappear if he kisses you too hard.

But you're not going anywhere.

"I never wanted to go," you whisper.

"Then don't," Joel breathes, voice low and wrecked. "Stay. Let me love you the way I should've before."

You kiss him first.

And it's slow, his mouth is warm and certain. His hands sliding up your sides like he's rememberjng every incekf you. You press to his body, soft curves meeting the solid strength of him and suddenly there's no past between you. Only now. He breaks the kiss, forehead pressed to you're, both of you breathing hard.

"I missed you,babygirl," he murmurs. "Every goddamn second. You don't know what it did to me, not havin' you here." Your fingers curl into his shirt. "Then show me."

That's all he needs.

Joe lifts you up, strong arms, steady hands, like it costs him nothing even now.

You gasp, clinging to him as he carries you down the hallway to the bedroom. The lights are low and the sheets are still the same ones you used to sleep in.

He lays you downike you're breakable. Like something he treasures.

And then he just looks at you.

"You're still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he says. "Can't believe I let you walk away."

You pull him down to you but he doesn't rush. He kisses your mouth, your jaw, your throat. His hands roam gripping your waist, kneading your thighs, dragging the hem of your shirt slowly.

"Take it off," you breathe.

"Patience, sweetheart." He murmurs.

"I'm not lettin' myseflf forget a single fuckin' detail this time."

Your shirt goes off first. Then your bra. He grownd softly when he sees your bare breasts, full, nipples already peaked from his touch.

"Goddamn," he mutters, thumbing your nipple, then leaning in to suck it slowly into his mouth. "You've always been so sensitive here..."

You moan, hips shifting. He sucks greedily, switching sides, letting his tongue drag slow, wet circles around each one while his hand slips beneath the waistband of your plants. "You wet already?" He murmurs against your skin. "Fuck, baby. You missed this, huh? Missed me?"

You nod, breathless. "Yes. So much."

He pulls your pants and panties down together, tossing them aside and settles between your legs like he belongs there. And he does. His fingers stroke through your folds, slick and ready for him. He teases you with two of his fingers, slow and deep, watching your face the whole time.

"That's it, babygirl... Open up for me. Been waitin' so long to touch you again."

You whimper when pulls his hand away but then he's stripping off his own clothes, shirt first, then jeans until he's bare Infront of you..

Still so solid, still so him.

He strokes himself slowly, the tip red and leaking. And your thighs tremble with need.

"You sure about this?" He asks, "cause once I have you again, I'm not lettin' go."

"Joel," you whisper, pulling him towed you. "I was yours the whole time."

That breaks sometbingin him.

He pushes himself inside you slow, inch by thick inch, and both of you gasp at the stretch. He fills you like nothing else ever had. Like your body remembers him.

"Fuck.." he groans, pressing his forehead to yours. "You still fit me like heaven, baby."

He starts moving, deep,slow thrusts that grinds against every sensitive spot. Your hands clutch at his back, nails dragging, your moans soft and sweet in his ear.

"I missed this..." you pant as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Like I'm still yours."

"You are," Joel growls, voice dark and fill of ache. "Mine. Say it."

"Yours. I'm yours, Joel..."

He pounds into you harder at that, sweat beading at his temple. His hand sneaking between your bodies to run slow circles on your clit. You cry out and he kisses you quiet.

"Cum for me," he murmurs. "I wanna feel toy fall apart around me. Show me how much you missed me."

You do.

It hits hard, a rush of heat and pleasure and emotion that makes you sob into his shoulder. He groans as yoy clench around him, fucking you through it, chasing his own release.

"I'm gonna fill you up, baby." He pants. "You want that? Want me leakin' out of you all night like I used to?"

"Yes, please, joel- please."

He groans deep, hips stuttering and then he spills inside you, thick and hot, his mouth pressed to your throat as he gasps your name like a prayer.

--

When it's over, he dosent pull out. He just holds you.

You're tangled up in sweat and blankets, your legs still around his waist, your bodies trembling with what you just gave each other.

"I love you," you whisper,and his breath catches.

"I never stopped," Joel says, voice hoarse and thick. "And I never will." He kissees your forehead, your nose, your lips.

And this time, you don't leave.