#hahaha *softly* fuck

[thebiscuiteternal]

Tumblr ads have me getting a lot of use out of this meme

I got THE worst possible Tumblr ad

[militaryapple]

lock in with me rq,,, desperate whiny caleb that promised “its just the tip” and “it doesn’t really count” bc its for practice bc ur a virgin in college and he’s obviously not!! (hes fucking lying) and as soon as he feels ur tight wet cunt he cant help but want more….hes like a dog…he gets so whiny and needy and so fucking desperate its so pathetic…good god im gonna lose it

JUST THE TIP!

synopsis. you tell caleb that you're a virgin, and he proposes he help you with the little problem

cw. fem!reader, switch caleb, fingering, p in v (stay protected girliepops), praise, usage of "puppy" and "doll, breeding, very needy and desperate caleb as ordered! hes so worthless i need him :(

add ons. i rlly ike sub caleb rn if anyones noticed HAHAHA here you go sweetie!

wc. 1.8k so short ik sorry :,(

how did you even lose your virginity to caleb?

it was earlier. you and caleb were in your dorm, like usual. caleb had put on some shitty romance movie he was interested in, his laughs following the queued ones whenever they go off — while you were busy scrolling on your phone. looking at people and their love life’s, only making you sigh.

thats when you realized, you’ve never fucked anyone before. oh how embarrassing that was to just realize it, you weren’t that extroverted in high school so obviously you didn’t mess around.. but college? your third year? now how embarrassing was that? you slumped over putting your phone down and laying your face in your pillow.

caleb looked over at your movements, pausing his movie and tugging on your shoulder to get you to flip back over. ���someone’s not in a good mood if she’s feelin’ like suffocating herself in her dorm.” he teased. you could only kick your feet up in response and let out a groan. “caleb.. not the time for jokes.” you whined out before letting out another groan.

caleb nodded and shuffled, laying on his side to look at you better. “alright, what’s up pip-squeak?” he asked softly, his hands making their way to your head as he stroked it occasionally playing with your hair. you placed your hands to your face in embarrassment before muttering out. “it’s, silly.” you said, your voice lowering.

“silly?” caleb perked, his hands pushing yours off your face. “come on, tell me what’s up.” you rolled your eyes and then turned to your side, facing him and playing with the cover underneath you, avoiding his eyes. “i um.. caleb i’m a virgin — in college, i dunno i just.. it’s embarrassing i’ve never even..” your voice trailed off as you dipped your head.

caleb laughed, and you perked up. instinctively putting your hand out to smack him a couple of times on his shoulder. “shut up! it’s not fucking funny! this is serious!” you squealed throwing punching as he tried to catch his breath, he used his evol to push your hands away as he settled back into his original position, looking at you.

“that’s funny, haha. if you’re so worried about it, how about i help you out? i’m also a virgin, and since we know each other it shouldn’t be awkward — we aren’t even going to do the serious stuff, alright?” he hummed, moving towards you as his handles trickled up to your sides.

so when you agreed, caleb got up and brought you closer to him, humming as he sat you in between his legs, spreading yours and planting kisses on your neck. you squirmed while he used his evol to hold you down in place. “uh-uh, this is important pip-squeak.” he said in-between kisses, his hand massaging your thighs while his thumb made occasional grazes against your panties, pressing down on your nub.

you shuddered in response, letting out sweet little moans for him, caleb looked over at you, already twitching. his other hand making its way up your shirt, flicking and pulling on your sensitive nipples. “caleb — oh, this feels, so weird,” you whined out, your hands grabbing on his legs while he toyed with your body as he pleased.

his hands in-between your thighs finally ceased movement, now moving towards your panties. two fingers pressing against your cunt, then rubbing circles around your nub, only making you twitch in response. “caleb!” you squeaked. “i know baby, this is how it feels, you want to experience it yeah? let me show you how good i can make you feel for your first time.” he coo’d.

fuck was he hard, his tip twitched at the sounds of your gasps, your little pants and the occasional “caleb”s that escaped your lips. your panties we’re soaked, and he took that as a sign of you being ready. “shh, juuust gotta stretch you out.” he leaned down, placing another kiss on your neck as you sobbed. his fingers reaching for your waistband, tugging on it before slipping his hands between your panties.

you shivered underneath him, his cold hands brushing past your slick, making their way to your sensitive nub, rubbing his thumb against it; then pinching it softly. “oh, oh please caleb i — that feels good,” your eyes swelled and caleb hummed. “is it too much for you? you want me to stop baby?” he whispered, you instinctively shook your head, grabbing on to his arm to keep him there.

his fingers move down, sliding a digit inside your sobbing cunt. you moaned at the feeling, his finger knuckles deep into you. then another one — making you twitch and buck forward. his other arm pulling you back and keeping you still. “i know baby, i know” he coo’d. his fingers sliding in and out of you at a slow pace, slowly speeding up as your legs shook from the stimulation.

“they say,” caleb huffs out, his arm now loosening its grip on your, his free hand sliding down back to your swollen tits. “that if a guy rubs at a sliiight angle,” his fingers now rubbing against an area, a one which you didn’t even know of, but that made you feel so fucking good. your moan, shuddering beneath him. “he can find his ladies sweet spot.” he pulled out his fingers, then thrusted them right back inside, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “guess i found it.” he hummed.

he finger-fucked you. his hands making you feel like you were seeing stars while his other groped and touched your sensitive tits. how he praised you on how good you were taking his fingers, “wow baby,” he smiled “you sure you’re a virgin?” he teased, making you babble in response.

“i’m gonna, gonna come out — caleb caleb please help me i need — fuckfuck,” you whined, this was better than when you touched yourself. not fully being able to finish; to reach a destination of relief. yet here caleb was, doing it for you. “you ‘gonna cum? come on, all over my fingers baby.” he kissed your cheek, his fingers abusing your poor little cunt in so many ways.

you grinded against his fingers, your walls clenching against him as he pumped in and out of you. your hips spasmed, and you cried out, holding on to him. “there ‘ya go. that’s my girl, look at you. so pretty, you ready for the next part?” you didn’t even register what he was saying until you heard the shuffling of his pants being pulled down after he had gotten up.

he got on the bed, now holding your legs over his shoulders while they instinctively held on. “you sounded so good, just the tip okay baby?” he coo’d. your whines turning into moans while his cock slid against your folds, he moaned now holding on to your hips as he thrusted against your cunt. “fuck, you’re so wet for me ‘doll.” his breath shook as he muttered out.

after he coated his pretty cock, he aligned himself up right with your already swollen cunt. he slid in, but not all the way, feeling how you clamped onto him; fuck he needed to restrain himself. “it doesn’t count baby, you’re still a virgin okay? ‘m not gonna take it, that’d be selfish of me yeah?” he groans, his hips slightly moving in and out of you trying not to dig his cock balls deep into you.

oh but how you moved your hands to his, how you intertwined your fingers and moaned his name. how everytime he pushed in just enough, you were practically sucking him in. he couldn’t take it. so what if he was just being selfish? you weren’t going to see any other guy anyways. caleb was all you needed.

“m sorry baby i can’t help it, oh fuck, you just feel—” his hips slammed into you, the sudden fullness making you groan. tears forming in your eyes as you call out for him. “so good,” his hips rutting against you. you felt amazing, the way you clamped down onto his cock, how when he pulls out you beg for him to fill you up. “you feel good, so fucking good i don’t know why i haven’t — done this with you before.” he panted out.

“you’re making me feel so good baby,” you moaned out, “so good for me.” caleb didn’t how, but it was like a switch flipped inside his head. his groans becoming whines and sobs. his hips frantically pressing against you to get any sort of sensation. “i’m your good boy, please, tell me i’m your boy.” he sobbed out, he leaned down placing kisses around you, lifting your shirt up and off your sweaty body.

his lips placed gentle kisses on you, just for them to turn into marks and bruises. he picked you up, pushing you against your wall, thrusting into you. “that’s it, sweet boy. you like making me feel good? yeah?” you don’t know where this was coming from, it’s just came it so naturally for you. maybe it was the desperation on his face, the way he grinded against you to get everything inside. how he nodded his head pussydrunk off you.

“yeah, yeah you’re so pretty, ‘all i think about. i can’t cum without thinking about you, i can’t — ‘wanna make you feel good.” he whined out, flipping you around so your back touched his chest. his cock stuffing into you while one of his hands moved down to rub your clit.

“i need more, i need you, i need to cum; can i cum baby? please let me? let your nasty dog make you feel good,” he buried his face in your neck, biting your shoulder and licking it. you nodded in approval with a small “mhm, good puppy.”

caleb rutted against you with everything, you shivered, twitching as you started to sob. you were close. he brought you both back to the bed, pushing your face down in the mattress before slamming into your ass. his shirt lifted to his mouth, biting down on it while he hit all your good spots.

“cumming — cumming, fuck ‘m gonna give us a litter of pups, yeah? not gonna need anyone else after this, just me, you and our, ohh, sweet little babies,” you couldn’t say anything, your head turned as your eyes rolled back, his seed spilling inside and out of you. caleb gave you a last couple of thrusts before moving away and lying down next to you, pulling you into his arms before placing kisses over you. “so pretty baby, really.” he said softly. “you were so good, i’m happy to be your first.” he hummed.

good thing you were on the pill. you nuzzled up against him, yawning. “mhm, can we take a nap now caleb,” you said weakly making caleb chuckle and pull a cover over you both. “alright then,”

wait. how did caleb know to do all those things to you? that little !! —

[clandestineloki]

miguel o'hara x shy crybaby housewife!reader (p2)

part 2 to this

miguel rolls you over on your back and takes your wrists in his hand, kissing your fingers and smiling up at you

it may be a sincere, sweet smile, but you're very flustered because this is your very attractive husband mind you

and you're still blushing like a schoolgirl when he looks at you with hearts in his eyes!!

he laughs softly at your flustered expression, and he just makes you even more embarrassed by spreading ur thighs open and licking his lips.

and he eats you up literally bc he bites down on your thigh like ur a little bun of bread, with the chomp noise and all >:(

then he goes n leaves a huge bite like the vampire daddy he is and then kisses it better, leaving a hickey and riling you up n making you whine

he is so mean!! but hes also calling u a good little wife so u're feeling very floaty <33

then his hands knead ur breasts and you whimper, so sensitive after the bath to the point where a brush of his skin against yours makes you super wet between ur legs poor babyy

and miguel notices that and bites his lip. you're such a needy baby, aren't you, gatita?

u never wanna admit it, but that's okay, he'll just prove it by fucking you so good you go dumb <33

so he gets to work on the fountain of youth between your legs

licks a fat stripe up your cunt and makes you twitch and shiver

stay still, baby, he mumbles against ur pussy, lean back, let daddy enjoy his favorite dessert~

fuck you taste so sweet, gatita, you got daddy wrapped around your little finger, mm?

you really have no idea how sexy you are :((

he licks up all your juices and laughs when he feels your thighs shaking, and just keeps eating his lovely wife out like she's his last meal

then when he feels your little hole clenching down, just so desperate to be filled

he shoves two fingers in and grins when you scream in pleasure, coming as he curls his fingers up into your cunt as you squirt all over his face <3333

pulls his fingers away and licks up the mess on his hand

then he holds his fingers out to you like "wanna taste"

n you're like "eww no" and he bursts out laughing

"more for me then hahaha- ow! dont hit me gatita"

he's disgusting...ly charming omg

u turn on ur side facing away from him but he pushes u on your back again

did you think he was done with you?? oh no no

he sinks in, no more prep needed since he got u sooooo needy and even his teasing made you so flustered nd aroused

"ah, such a cute little plaything, letting me fuck her as i please, you like when i tease you dont you bebita<3"

you whimper and turn ur head away, but he goes no no babyy i wont tease anymore, my pretty wife just look at me please?~

you turn ur head back to him and he grins, thrusting even harder

"ahh that's it baby~" he grunts, pinning your wrists to the side and kissing your neck sloppily.

"d-daddy!" you whine, squirming under his weight and he laughs

"don't run from me, bebita, we both know your pretty pussy loves me, doesnt it~?"

and he rubs ur little clit and makes you scream and go dumb from bliss

then he goes even harder, overstimulating u, but when you can't hear him, he whispers so many sorrys and i love yous because he knows he doesnt deserve such a pretty little wife who lets him do whatever he wants with her :((

but he hears you slur out, "i love you" and he kisses you passionately, both his and your doubts gone because this moment is all you two needed to calm down

then he wraps the two of you up in the blankets in a spooning position and kisses you goodnight n cradles you in his arms

but not before he slips his cock in u again >:))

he makes you sleep that way cockwarming him

and as a reward u wake up to the feeling of him lazily thrusting into you <3

[w2soneshots]

Hello I was wondering if u can write a George Clarke fan fic based on the sidemen charity match and also I REALLY LOVE your writing it’s so amazing like I can never stop reading it like damnnnnnnnn

My man -George clarkey

words: 0.8k+

warnings: none!

summary: you watch George play in the sidemen charity match… along with all the trials and tribulations before and after the game.

notes: heyyy! Thank you love🫶🏼. I’ve done a match fic for Harry and I had a few people ask for a George one so of course I’m delivering, because he looked gorgeous��‍↕️. I hope you enjoy girlies!!💘💫

Liked by arthurtv, behzingagram and others

y/username: my man scored at Wembley today!!🥹💗

-comments-

georgeclarkeey: 88th minute babyyy

max_balegde: don't you mean OUR man?!😌

-> y/username: hahaha of course Max😂

y/nfanpage21: he did so well omfg

user: THE MULLET. I'm gonna faint

"Good morning darling," George greeted you just as you opened your eyes. He stood looking down at you, already fully dressed in his kit. "I've got to go to breakfast but I'll see you before we leave," he said before pressing a kiss to your forehead, "love you."

You spent your morning slowly getting ready and he returned to your room just as you finished. You smiled as he walked towards you, arms extended for a hug. "Good luck baby. You'll be fine... don't stress too much," you whispered reassuringly before he hugged you tighter and then pulled back.

He let out a deep breath. "I'm shitting myself." You chuckled quietly. "I'm sure you won't be on long enough to fuck it up anyway," you joked. He playfully squeezed your hip. "Go and enjoy it. I'll see you afterwards. I love you," you spoke softly. He nodded then turned to leave, though he stopped himself, gave you a long kiss and only then did he leave.

y/username posted a new story!

"Oh my god. There he is!" You shouted -a little louder than you'd meant to- as you spotted George on the field, warming up with the rest of the sidemen team. Max perked up next to you and began filming him. You looked at the zoomed in screen and laughed loudly when you saw the picture he'd just taken. "That's hilarious, please send it to me."

y/username posted a new story!

George wasn't in the starting eleven for the game, but after a little while he was finally subbed in. You, Max, the two Arthur's, Bach and every fan girl in the stadium cheered when his name was called on the intercom.

You watched intently as the game progressed. It was a little bit hard to fully keep up with what was happening, since you were so high up, but your eyes just followed the brown, curly mullet.

When it reached half time everyone that was in one of the friends and family boxes headed inside to get some food. You were sat opposite max when you received a message from George, "everything good? x" You smiled slightly at your phone. "Just enjoying the free food. You're doing so well, everyone's cheering you on babe! xx" you replied swiftly.

y/username posted a new story!

After half time, the game continued. Goal after goal was scored and it was unbelievably close. Everyone was on the edge of their seats. Just as it was nearing the end the score was even on eight all.

Tobi took a kick from the corner and then just as you thought it was going in George followed and kicked it into the net. "Ahh!" You all stood and cheered, your hand covering your mouth in shock.

You watched the screen to see the close up video of him celebrating, Chris and Will hugging him as well, even know they were on the opposite team. You were close to tears seeing how happy he looked. He'd been so nervous so you were glad he got his moment.

y/username posted a new story!

Unfortunately Theo scored just before the game finished, equalising. It went to penalties and ultimately the sidemen's team lost, though it was all for charity and you weren't really bothered about the final result since you just wanted to see your boyfriend.

y/username posted a new story!

y/username posted a new story!

You didn't see George after the game since he went back on the team bus with the rest of the players and you got a taxi to the after party with the Arthur's, Bach and Liv so you only got to see him once you were both back at the hotel.

When you finally saw the players walking through the doors your eyes searched the crowd of black and red kits until you saw him. A bright smile spread across the both of your faces when your eyes met.

The minute he reached you he flung his arms around you and sighed into your shoulder. "You were incredible George," you whispered. "That's made my year," he replied gently. You pulled back and kissed him, which is something you don't do often since nether of you are big on pda but it just felt right.

y/username posted a new story!

y/username posted a new story!

The rest of the night was spent celebrating and getting slightly pissed. As soon as you and George got back to your room and your heads hit the pillows you fell straight asleep, back against his chest; his arm wrapped around your middle while the both of you soundly slept, after one of the best days ever.

[anas-aspiration]

loser abby who is so pussy drunk over her gf pls pls pls

Okay period aha

Pussy drunk!Abby x reader

The longer you’re below or above Abby who is lapping at your pussy, the messier she gets. It usually starts with her saying something along the lines of “I’ve had a long day” or “I don’t know babe just exhausted” and from there you know that it’s gonna be a long night. Despite her whining about how much the day took out of her, her mouth can stay on you for hours. But of course you give in every time because how could you say no when her hands roughly massage your sides as you pull her in for a hug? Or the way she nudges her head into your neck and whimpers so softly that you almost can’t catch it? Impossible.

Tonight you’re nearing a second orgasm, something you could never get tired of. Her moans are muffled from below you as you ride her face. You grip onto her sides as she gives a sharp suck to your clit. In reverse cowgirl like this you had to be careful not to fall forward. This isn’t a position you tried often, but of course Abby just works so hard all the time, she needed a little relaxation.

“Mmph. F-fucking love this pussy babe. So much.” She mumbles from beneath you.

“Yeah?” You smile. You could tell how much she was enjoying it from the way she was squirming looking for some sort of friction right in front of you. This is something Abby only does when she’s in this state. It’s almost like a trance, whether she’s below you or kneeling she gets off in a way 10x messier. It was as if she had just taken a couple shots and dove right in.

You carefully lean forward so that your elbows are on either side of her hips and you are face to face with her pussy. It’s not a surprise how wet she is. Her stomach tenses as you place a kiss on her clit. The vibrations of her groans going straight to yours.

This was obviously a good idea because she starts to get sloppier with you, moaning almost uncontrollably while now fucking you with her tongue. You try your best to keep your composure and work at her as good as she is with you but it’s hard when her skilled tongue is literally inside of you.

“Fuck— abby slow down.” You gasp. If only you could see the fucked out expression that she’s wearing on her face right now like you usually could. Except right now it’s absolutely porn worthy. Having you on her tongue is already enough to get her off, but having you do the same is driving her insane.

Your orgasm that has been building up for the past 20 or so minutes is about to shatter you. She is hitting all the right spots, and apparently you are too. She’s grinding up into your face, chasing the same release.

With a few cries of her name you come on her face. Your vision is practically gone and you can feel the pleasure down to your toes but you are determined to keep licking at her the best you can.

You didn’t notice it at first but she had came as the same time as you. Looking down at the sheeting soaked below her, at least you feel proud. You can hear her heaving from behind and take that as a hint to get off of her. As you turned around you are met with a very pleased looking Abby. She has this expression on her face like she’s still coming and she’s covered in slick.

“You feel better now babe?” You ask her.

She nods slowly. “Yeah.. baby. I needed that sososoo much.”

At this point she is practically asleep and you’re left wondering how you can get her in the shower.

A/n!!: chat am i lowkey slept on hahaha

[nightwngz]

Food for thought: hal jordan and barry Allen sandwich.

Like imagine hal flat out degrading you while barry is up in your ear praising you for doing so good but only increasing the speed of his fingers.

Another side note, misuse of speedforce powers and misuse of the ring in the bedroom? 👀👀 sign me up.

-🌾 anon

— 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 !! ♡⃝ eng.

hal jordan 𝒙 fem!reader 𝒙 barry allen

✶ | warnings. . . porn without plot, smut. fingering. dirty talk, praising kink and degradation. nipple play. biting.

✶ | language. . . english is not my first language and I tend to make mistakes, so I apologize in advance.

✶ | note. . . hey anon, I hope you like this. I am so bad at answering asks but I keep trying hahaha.

It might have been your fault, though you weren’t entirely sure. You weren’t completely certain if what you were doing was right, but the mix of Barry's gentle sweetness and Hal's roughness created a bittersweet obsession, both in bed and in your relationship.

Barry loved to be gentle and affectionate. Even as he curled his fingers inside your hole, arching your back, his attention to detail was unmatched. He enjoyed watching you delight in his caresses, especially when he used his powers to vibrate his fingertips at high speed, touching you in that sensitive spot inside you while whispering, "God, honey, you're doing so good. Always so beautiful.”

Hal, on the other hand, was never known for his kindness to you; he enjoyed rubbing your clit with his ring until he made you cry, then laughing at you for it. He would tease Barry for pampering you and trying to make you feel good with his words, whispering in your ear, “You must be the only slut who can take being humiliated and flattered at the same time just to get fucked. How disgusting.”

Although they are very different, they both agree on how to please you. Even as Barry goes out of his way to remind you how beautiful you are and how much he enjoys the feel of your pussy squeezing his fingers, he increases the speed in a way that even your best vibrator couldn't match.

And Hal, with some competitive intent, rubs your clit harder, not caring if you're a little sensitive. He can't stand Barry hogging the spotlight just because he's faster, so he starts kissing your neck with some aggression, whispering in your ear, determined to charm you with his degrading words.

They see you crying on the bed as you writhe, and it only fuels them. You can even feel their lips curl into a smile as they hear your moans fill the room. Through your tears, you murmur barely intelligible prayers: "More, please, don't stop. I'm so close, so close.”

Hal nibbled gently on your neck while he used his free hand to spread your thighs, trying to keep you from closing your legs. Meanwhile, Barry searched for the most vulnerable spot on you, running his thumbs deftly over your nipples. The intensity of the moment made your cheeks blush so red that you hid on the brown-haired man's shoulder to hide your embarrassment.

Hal laughed softly. "Why the sudden embarrassment, doll? Who knew you'd have a hint of shame all over your body with two of Barry's fingers buried in your little hole?” But the blonde looked at him disapprovingly for laughing at you. 'Don't tease, Hal. She's extremely sensitive in that area, aren't you, honey?’

But you could not react. Barry's gentleness and Hal's roughness in taking care of you were so different that they created a strange mixture of sensations in your body. This combination brought you close to orgasm in an addictive way, and when you realized it, you couldn't help but enjoy it.

[carolmunson]

18+ stoned!reader x stoned!eddie, some semi smut found this in my drafts from a couple days ago that i wrote when i was...also stoned. utter nonesense, most of it.

“Shh—hehe-shh, no, no, we have to be — hahaha — sh, sh, quiet,” he whisper yells, stumbling over himself while he nearly knocks a lamp off of a side table in Steve Harrington’s living room. The rest of the gang filled the guest bedrooms, leaving you both on the pull out couch.

His sweaty hand clasps yours as you finally make it to the kitchen, squinting in the light against the white tiles.

“Ugh, put the dimmer on,” you whine into another peal of ‘quiet’ giggles.

“Okay, okay,” he nods, leaning against the wall while he twists the light switch knob, the lights going to a low yellow.

“That’s better — shit,” he huffs, grinning.

“What?” you grin back,

“M’stoned as shit, babe,” he laughs, rubbing his swollen red eyes.

“Me—haha, me too,” you laugh back. You both make your way to the abandoned s’mores ingredients on the counter, the reason for the adventure to the kitchen.

“I don’t really get marshmallows,” he says, popping one into his mouth, “Li’ I get them, buh I don’ really get them.”

“True, true,” you nod, breaking a graham cracker in half, staring at the crumbs on the marble, “They’re like — oh my god — holy shit, they’re a fake food.”

“Babe, fuck — you’re so right,” he nods, “Like what’re they even made of?”

“Like…plastic, babe. I think they’re plastic,” you nod back, eyes as wide as they can go — and it’s not wide at all, “Like from space. They’re space plastic.”

“They’re totally space plastic,” he agrees, putting another one in his mouth, “Tasthy, shug-ry, spacthe, plasdic.”

“M’so thirsty,” you complain, turning the sink on with little grace, leaning forward to drink from the faucet.

“Aw, shit, me too — move,” Eddie grumbles, holding his hair back and hip bumping you out of the way.

“Hey!” you whine, hip bumping him back, knocking your forehead against his to get back to the water.

“You hey!” he laughs back, face half reproachful and half mischievous, “I’ll count to five and then hahaha, then it’s my turn.”

You drink quick while he counts down, taking turns in intervals of five until you both think you’ve been drinking water for hours.

“3, 4…”

“Okay enough, you’re waterboarding me,” you gasp after a gulp, turning the sink off.

“You don’t even know what that means.”

“No Ed, you don’t even know what that means.”

“No you,” he tuts, leaning in for a kiss.

“No you,” you tut back, letting him kiss you softly. Unsurprisingly, you both let out simultaneous groans, knowing you’re both on shaky ground if you keep at it. It takes little effort for him to convince you to sit up on the island counter so his hips can line up against yours, ringed and tattooed hands gripping your thighs without thought or care behind it, just need. Just bare need from the roots. He pushes forward, the hard on tenting his boxers pressing up flat against you. Two more breathy groans coming from between your kisses while he rocks against your panties.

“I don’t have a condom with me,” he whispers against your lips.

“Sss…hmmm, it’s okay,” you mumble out, swollen eyes now shut while your body tingles through with pleasure, “S’feelin’reallygood babe.”

“You all extra sensitive?” he asks, the giggles gone, just eyes that want you — brain focused now on chasing the pleasure in his groin.

“Yeah,” you whimper, his chest pressing up against yours when he brings his mouth to your neck. To your spot. The whine you let out is a little too loud and you both know it — enough that he covers your mouth while he keeps going, hips still grinding in a steady rhythm against you. He tugs you down back to the floor by your hips, turning you around without a second thought, oversized t-shirt rucked up to your waist.

“You want me?” he asks, pulling your panties to the side. You nod hurriedly.

“Please,” you whisper, hips wiggling — which makes him laugh, which makes you laugh, and then you look at the marshmallows on the counter and it’s space plastic all over again. Giggles and kisses while he gets ready to ease into you and put you both to bed exhausted.

“I hope the aliens don’t come,” you murmur between sloppy pecks, “For the space plastic.”

The light in the kitchen gets bright, bright, bright, “We’re getting abducted babe.”

“What’re you talking about?” Steve’s annoyed voice echos from the other end of the room, “You guys are being so loud.”

You and Eddie separate like embarrassed high schoolers who got caught kissing behind the bleachers. Like dad walked in on something he shouldn’t have.

“Sorry, Harrington,” Eddie smirks, “We were just—”

“Getting water!” you interrupt.

“Yeah I see that,” Steve huffs, crossing his arms, “It’s all over the floor.”

He’s not wrong, it is, the two of you looking at the tile like kids who are definitely in trouble.

“We’ll clean it up Steve, sorry,” Eddie assures, much more apologetic now.

“Just — go to bed guys,” he sighs, “Or I’m making you sleep in separate rooms next time.”

When he leaves you both toss each other a look, mocking Steve’s exasperated face with another silent outbreak of breathy giggles. After wiping up the water, you put away the snacks together and click the light off, settling back down in the pull out couch under the covers. The high now holding you down in a cozy grip, making your eyes lull and your breaths slow.

“M’sleepy,” you whisper under the crisp sheets.

“Me too,” he nods, intertwining his limbs with yours like he does every night. Curly hair creeping onto your face while he settles his head in the crook of your neck, “But babe?”

“Yeah?” you ask into the quiet of the room, eyes closed, sleep pulling you further and further away.

“M’gonna rail you when we get home tomorrow,” he mutters, half asleep.

“M’kay,” you nod, “Thass—that sounds good. I like that. I’ll get us a ticket.”

“Hm?”

“For the rail…for the railroad.”

“I’ve been workin’ on the rail road,” he sings quietly.

“All the live long day…” you both harmonize, more giggles, sleepy giggles.

“I’ve been workin’ on the rail road, just to pass the time away…”

“Guys,” Steve’s sharp whisper calls from the stairs, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Steve,” you mumble in unison, singing the song in quiet whispers — falling asleep before you even make it to the end.

[fillinforlater]

Mildly Unfair

Male Reader x Yu Jimin (Karina), Kwon Eunbi, Jang Wonyoung

Length: 1656 words

Tags: titfuck, titfuck, titfuck (?), cumshot, rivalry

TW: no editing and terrible analogies hahaha

Inspiration: @capslocked for the (meme) idea

(A/N: You literally voted for the ending to this and I wrote it accordingly. The idea came from @capslocked but I want to give @kaedespicelatte a shoutout for pushing the "Wony busty" agenda. Here is my take on it.)

"Wha-wha-what the hell?"

The sliding door is only half-way open when a wide-eyed Wonyoung is already eager to enter the room through the small gap. Her petite, long body easily passes through, something the two women before you might have struggled with. Unlike Wonyoung, they carry a certain package with them at all times—and said package has you groaning like a wild animal for a couple of minutes now.

"Stop it!" Wonyoung complains, deaf, lust riddled ears unwilling to let her two older friends know about her issue. You'd gladly help her out, really, but your eyes are glued on your erection which is in quite the predicament.

"Shut up," Karina hushes back at Wonyoung, dainty fingers circling your swollen cockhead, tits spilling out from her bra already. No surprise there, she usually wears clothes a size too small and with the bountifulness of her chest, the black lace can barely keep up. "You're not really needed here."

"She is right," Eunbi says softly, dress already around her ankles, lusty hands spreading warm lube over her breasts. She gets on her knees next to Karina and helps the younger to make everything a wet, glistening mess. "He wants something you can't give, Wony."

'Fuck' is all you have to contribute when your manhood is suddenly trapped from both sides in the soft grasp of two pairs of melons. Karina joins you, her moans a lot more unhinged, especially when Eunbi rids her of the tiny bra with a soft smile. 

Eunbi's smile is always soft, loving, and motherly. She is older and absolutely confident in her sexuality. It's this confidence that has gotten this friend group away from "just" hanging out, playing games and partying to a lot more intimate activities.

"Rina, your nipples are so hot, come and rub them over me," Eunbi urges her friend with a laugh that has Karina flushed even stronger than before. Long gone is the hesitant girl, unsure and self-aware of her cup size; she is already in heat and squeezes her tits together to arouse Eunbi with the hard, light brown nipples atop a large arolae. 

"Unnie, you're hot too, ahh!"

"Uhm, hello? I'm here too, you horny fucks!" Wonyoung shouts and climbs on the bed you're sitting on. "Hey you, say something."

That whine must have been directed at you, but you focus on Karina and the valley of her silky boobs rubbing along your sides, stimulating the skin of your shaft while Eunbi licks the slit stopping every now and then to teasingly blow on your tip. Enough reasons to throw your head back and completely ignore Wonyoung, who crosses her arms and looks down at you.

"Like I said," Eunbi addresses Wonyoung, still calm, unworried, your glands twirled between two fingers. "You can't help us. There is no shame in having small boobs, it's just that they can't do this."

"But I can!"

This is ridiculous, but when you look past it, all there is is Karina tit fucking her massive, gorgeous ballons up and down your entire length. Wet sloppy sounds become louder, messier when she sticks out her tongue and drools on your tip. You can't believe that your formerly abashed friend can rival Eunbi with the sluttiness of her expression and the things her mouth can do.

You groan and cup her face with your admittedly sweaty fingers. Karina locks eyes with you, never stops to fuck your cock silly and to get you even closer to heaven, she gets a wet kiss by Eunbi on her rosy cheek. You are ready to blast, early, but Karina has really earned a load on her pretty face and pretty fat tits. But suddenly Eunbi stops Karina's last surge for your climax.

"Okay, Rina, we'll let her do it," she says.

"Eh? What? You must be kidding!" a visibly upset and horny Karina groans. However, Eunbi has trained her well. She pulls away, reluctance only in her gaze. Eunbi gives her another of those motherly smiles and Karina settles next to her, away from your parted legs, away from your glowing, throbbing cock.

Wonyoung gleefully gets in front of you and presses her full, pink lips on what she often calls 'hers'. Yes, she tries really hard to get you to be only hers, but two equally beautiful women with other benefits are right there, sharing a few pecks and fondling each other's curves. 

"Look at me," Wonyoung proudly announces and places your shaft in between her tiny hills, pressing them together and almost making you feel a hint of softness. Almost.

“I am looking, but feel, I do nothing,” you mock her and from the corner of your eyes see Karina taunt the skinny girl—in before Eunbi cups her puffy pussy to make her forget the blazing rod she could be pumping right now. It is doubtful that she can fully forget it though, the amount of times she has thrown a horny gaze to your crotch puts your bank account to shame.

“Y-you’re lying!” Wonyoung whines, almost cries out, with an uncanny desolateness in her usually confident and demanding voice. You can’t help but pity her a bit. “Admit it: my boobs are the best.”

“They are great, but you don’t have to give me a titjob for that,” you try to reason calmly. Wonyoung is having none of that today. Again. 

“No. Tell them, tell everyone, even your weird friends on Discord that I am the bustiest, I have the biggest and bestest boobs of all of them.”

“Wonyoung,

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

This is getting out of hand, like Wonyoung’s mounds. She tries to squeeze them tighter against you, but repeatedly slides over them. Her palms smack your cock in a very unarousing manner. Combine that with the absolute lack of stimulation from her chest, you go limp quickly. Even Wonyoung’s adorable, fuckable expression isn’t enough to salvage this.

Luckily for you, Eunbi saves the day, like she did so many times. She quietly urges Karina to tackle Wonyoung while she takes the vacant spot in between your knees. In the blink of an eye, the mature face of your Noona replaces that of Wonyoung, which is now buried in Karina’s bazookas. 

“I’m sorry about this,” Eunbi whispers, her initial smile fading for something more sinister, still lewd, but in an imposing way that you know all too well. “I’ll fix this, if you’re ready or not.”

You’re never ready for the way she just spits in her hands, nails painted in some color that in no time will flash up and down when she jerks your cock beyond any reasonable stimulation. All the blood that has been rushing away from it turns around asap, getting you embarrassingly hard embarrassingly swiftly.

“N-no need to be sorry. Fuck.”

“I know you can’t resist me, not even my hand. You’d cum on my tits by just looking at them. That’s why I’m better than both of them.”

Is she right? Maybe. She is making a great case for herself, her soft hand suddenly stopping the up and down movement in favor of slaps against her milky meat bags. Eunbi knows you won’t loudly admit to her superiority, but she also knows how she can remove all doubt about it. Small hands move from a large cock to the largest, most perfectly shaped breasts in at least the radius of one meter (Karina is still right there after all—why is she choking Wonyoung—why are their fingers deep in their pussies?), and Eunbi makes sure your cock disappears in them. 

Warm and soft, somewhat like a pussy and still completely different. Eunbi looks at you, expectantly, threatening, you better have a good reaction to her—her titfuck starts violently and you crash back onto the bed with a gasp that has Karina and Wonyoung perking up from their fight (GONE SEXUAL). 

Sexual feels like an understatement for the way Eunbi’s boobies have you on the verge of insanity. She moves them up and down and has you reaching for something up, something down, but all you find are pillows (suspiciously smelling like Wonyoung) and Eunbi’s hair. Nevermind, the second is a great option. You pull on it like it’s the break to a crashing train and the Noona tries to kill you with a stare.

“What are you doing?” she growls.

“Y-you’re too fast, pl-please—”

“No.”

No, your hand in her hair does not matter, she is still absolutely destroying you with her melons. Eunbi’s fun bags are now murder weapons, slashing you, ready to make you release a liquid all over them. In all honesty (you can’t tell her that), it feels fantastic, and an orgasm will be a blissful ride on the clouds, but you don’t want to give it to her. 

“I want Karina.”

“No.”

“I want Karina.”

“No!”

“Unnie!” Karina shouts and stands up, her pussy leaking onto the floor. “He wants me. Your Wony-experiment failed, now I get my rightful load.”

“Ugh, fine.” Your cock is free, Eunbi is livid, though her face can never get rid of this motherly look. It’s endearingly cute in a wicked way. “Fucking take him, I don’t care.”

“I’m here.” Karina’s soft skin presses around you, so much more careful. Her face is bright, porcelain skin ready to be painted like a canvas. Her ears perk up when she hears your groan. Her full lips are slightly parted, her large eyes are dreamy, hungry, ready for you to burst. “Cum, please.”

Your cock erupts all over the perfect, angelic features, covering all but her beauty spot in a thick icing that gets eagerly lapped up. No one can resist the toppings of a great cake after all, not even Eunbi, who quickly falls back to her knees to help Karina clean off her face. Wonyoung joins in too, but she gets the least—they really do care about the age-order here, huh?

[lemon-boy-stan]

Genshin men as your husband's and boyfriends and telling them "fuck you"

Smutty. Featuring: Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Zhongli, Wriothesley. Warnings: swearing, knife play, mentions of breeding, use of handcuffs, monster fucking. A/N: I am a big believer of Wrio using cuffs.

DILUC

"Yeah?!" Diluc yelled back. "YEAH!" you screamed, "fuck you, Ragnivdr!" Diluc went quiet for a moment, making you freeze. His eyes flashed bright red as he rolled his tongue across the inside of his left cheek. "Fuck me, huh?" You bit your lower lip. "Master Diluc..." But he wasn't having any of it today. "I was just trying. To keep you safe. And you're using such vile language on me, hmm?"

"Master Diluc, please, I -" He cut you off, "You will stay home, and you won't be going on this commission." You opened your mouth again, "but-" his eyes flared once more and you shut it. "You are staying home. And perhaps, after today, you'll have another reason to stay home, hmm? Watch your language, darling, our future children can't hear you say such foul things."

KAEYA

"Oh, fuck you, Alberich!" You made your way for the door before shrieking, Kaeya's hand gripping your wrist so tight that his fingers left little half-moon marks on your skin, and you knew he was angry. "Fuck me, huh?" He whispered the words in your ears, biting the tip of it, making you arch your back. "How about I fuck you?"

Kaeya unsheathed his sword, pressing the cool metal on the skin under your sundress. You moaned softly, throwing your head back, backing up against the closed door of his office. "Kaeya," you moaned, making him smirk. "Please."

CHILDE

"FUCK YOU, AJAX!" Tartaglia laughed loudly, wringing his hands. "Fuck me? Aren't you normally the one screaming that in this relationship?" You ignored him, "shut up. You're so annoying, you got us lost, you-" his lips crashed on yours. "Be quiet, Comrade. Or we're going to be found."

You moaned softly into his lips, feeling his hard-on against the soft material of your dress. You whined, "fuck me please, Tartaglia." He cackled lowly into the kiss, "mm, that's what I thought." Sliding his pants down, pushing you into the tree behind you.

ZHONGLI

"What did you just say to me?" Zhongli's eyes flashed golden. You bit your lip, whispering, "I - I said f - fuck you." Zhongli snarled, and you could've sworn there was smoke coming from his nose and suddenly he was in front of you, towering over you, gripping your waist harder than usual. You looked down and gasped, staring at his now black and golden arms and hands.

"M-Morax," you mumbled. Zhongli snarled again, pressing into you, biting your neck harshly, making you squeal loudly. "You'll be punished for that, my little Qingxing."

WRIOTHESLEY

"Don't tell me to shut up!" Wriothesley roared. You screamed back at him, "I'll do whatever I please! And not only am I going to say "shut up", I'm going to say fuck you, too, Mr. Perfect Duke!" Wriothesley growled and you shrieked loudly as he picked you up with his big, strong hands, lifting you as if you were a featherweight.

Wriothesley bent you over his desk, grabbing both your arms behind your back and slapping his handcuffs on your wrists, the metal making your toes curl. You could hear the sound of his belt unbuckling and his pants dropping to the floor. He chuckled softly, "do you want to think twice before saying such cruel things to me, my dear?"

First time writing for Wrio and Zhongli! Hope you like it, they both have a chokehold on me HAHAHA.

GENSHIN IMPACT MASTERLIST

NAVIGATION

[hermidetta]

"h-hey! didn't you just hear me? i just said you were the best!"  and now at least thrice.  "you even got to hide! i'd give anything to scurry away with the rats, even if they kidnapped me that one time and called me their princess—um, never mind. that's another long story. anyway, you can't! be replaced. or get more charming. and not because it's bad for bernie's blood pressure. bernie's heart is all stone!"

which is most certainly why said stone heart does not nearly explode into a bunch of fleshy little bernie bits at the mental image of yuri tucking a flower behind her ear, too. it doesn't. it shouldn't, anyway. but even bernadetta knew she would be lying to herself if she didn't recognize how significant yuri was to her, so much that they were one of the fewest she would allow near her hair at all—the ugly violet mop that she has quite literally bitten other men at the monastery for attempting to touch.

"... but i wouldn't say no to any flowers..."  mumble, mumble. a faraway mumble of a girl's stupid dreams caught inside her stupid mouth. a further-away-mumble of a girl's tattered heart. a sword through her neck that twists her back in her place.

she would have had the heart to perk at yuri's offer, gray eyes twinking for another sweet snack she knew she was not supposed to sneak in her state. but maybe she does not have the heart, really. not yet. not when the aftermath still grips it in a fist. she banishes the mundane temptation. instead—  "... yuri? c-could you actually just see if my bandages are okay? they haven't been changed since the first time i got wrapped up."  and the explanation, because she always feels like she owes one for existing.  "i don't like others touching me. it's not that i want to make things harder for them, really. i just get all jumpy when they try to do it, and— and it, um, usually ends with me breaking stuff."

because she is not used to hands that heal, she leaves unsaid. because she is used to hands that harm. because she knows how to expect those and flinches back at everything else in the world for it. bernadetta can sit still and silent under a threat, under a familiar command. she does not know what to do in the face of something gentler—not the way she had known, once upon a time, back when things were simpler with two children in a garden.

the killing blow had stopped bleeding some time ago. whatever had brought her back from the cusp of death helped. still, the gash that stretched from her side and wound up to her neck—even if she could not see half of it without a mirror, bernadetta knew exactly what it took for her flesh to scar. she tilts her head and nudges aside her hair with hesitant fingers, baring the spot to yuri, baring her soft throat and softer spine just as easily as she had to jules and as she may always do to the one standing beside her, even after knowing they had once sought to harm her.

besides. it may be the largest blemish to date, but this scar is hardly alone. there is an entire canvas that her childhood had helped itself to, because nobles have always been in the trade of buying and selling property. nobles know how to dress it up just enough to pawn off to high bidders, despite the cracks and dents riddled in its foundation.

(to bernadetta it made no difference. it could not faze her. you see, she is unmarriageable either way.)

"but it's okay if it's you,"  she murmurs. and it is. it's okay if it's them. and if anyone at all were to twist her trust into the very knife that kills her, then—well, bernadetta still wouldn't want it to be anyone else but them. "s-sorry. it's probably really ugly, huh?"

·⠀❥　let's see behind curtain number 1

restoration　›　bernadetta & yuri

[irisintheafterglow]

do you guys ever think about streamer!sakusa because i do

cw: swearing

sakusasbigtits👑👑: wait wtf are they in the room ??? hinatashoyolover: ASHDSFKAJSDFHG ellawantsaran👑: PARTNER REVEAL violetvolley2012: mOVE YOUR FUCKNIG WEBCAM oikawamilkbox7: SHWO PARTNER SHOW FPARTNER miya_osamu: what the fuck is going on

"what the hell is a miya doing in my chat? i could've sworn you guys just finished a charity stream," he dodges, leaning back in his chair as chaotic messages urging him to show his partner flew by. "look, i don't know what you guys are talking about. there's no one in the room but me." cross-legged on his bed and wearing his jersey, you stifle a laugh into your fist just out of sight. his eyes flicker over to you for a moment and soften before he goes back to manipulating his chat.

miyarearrangemyinsides👑: YOU FUCKING LIAR sakusasbigtits👑👑: WHY ARE YOU GASLIGHTING US

"i'm serious." more messages of indignancy light up his screen. "i don't think you guys even know what gaslighting means." a smirk spreads across his face as chat explodes, taking the bait and continuing to argue with their favorite man through a screen. "thank you kuroobella7 for the five gifted-"

stop being a big baby and show us your partner, deadpans the automatic voice reading out his donations. you can't help it, that time, and the laugh that slips out is definitely picked up by kiyoomi's mic.

sakusasbigtits👑👑: WHO WAS THAT oikawamilkbox7: WE HEARD THAT OMI tinygianttwo: hi sakusa!!

"hey, shoyo. welcome back to the hellhole that is my chat," he says, continuing to ignore the outrage rising in his stream. "hop in vc one, i'm gonna see if bokuto wants to play phasmophobia." your attention returns to your laptop and you continue with typing out the rest of your assignment.

you vaguely register kiyoomi saying something about grabbing another drink, forcing an ad onscreen before creeping over to you. his hands rest on the edge of the bed as he leans forward, pressing his lips softly to yours and smiling against your mouth. "i love you a lot."

"i love you more. when are you gonna stop convincing chat that i don't exist?"

"when they earn it," he answers simply, kissing the corner of your mouth and the tip of your nose. if lovesickness were a disease, he wouldn't mind being ill. "which i think will take a very long time."

"you are not making my stream debut a sub-goal," you chuckle, tilting your neck up to kiss the moles above his eyebrow. "i will not let you."

"how else are they gonna earn it?"

"i am not letting you monetize showing my face on your stream, omi," you reiterate with a delirious smile. he continues to push, nudging his nose against yours like a needy cat.

"you're cute when in my jersey. what if i end stream right now and just lay here with you?"

"okay, lover boy," you say, gently pushing his face away. "go back to--huh?" both of your attentions shoot to your phone, where the beaming face of bokuto's contact photo illuminated your screen. you swipe down on the sudden influx of notifications and feel your heart stop.

Less Tolerable Miya👎🏐: CHECK CHAT HAHAHA THERES NO FUCKIGN WAY Better Miya🍙🏐: oi check your volume stupid Bokuhoe Kotaro🦉✨🏐: BABE YOUR BOYFRIEND ISNT MTUED Less Tolerable Miya👎🏐: wait is my name in your phone still less tolerable miya Sunshine Shoyo🧡☀️🏐: SAKUSA'S STREAM SOUND IS ON

"oh...shit," he mutters, pressing one more kiss to your forehead before running to his computer and throwing his headphones on, face bright pink and tripping over his words. his chat is a wildfire, persistent and absolutely uncontrollable. at some point, kiyoomi just gives up and leans back in his chair, looking for you to help.

you raise your eyebrows in question.

he tilts his head to beckon you over.

you appear in the frame of his webcam, wearing his jersey. kiyoomi looks at you like you are the only thing that matters in his entire world.

"alright fuckers, you happy now that you've seen 'em? good, because if we reach subgoal, i'm gonna make them play fnaf with me."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

y/n having a freaky dream and sparkling scarlet wanda waking up and notices it…

HAHAHA they way she would probably have a lot of these lol

---

"Darling?"

Y/n twitched in her sleep, her eyelids moving slightly as she continued dreaming.

Smirking, Wanda watched the dream unfold. It was lovely, truly, but the scenes of her red hair played out on the girl's slender hips as she ate her out was only serving to turn her on. She wanted to make that dream a reality.

Well, why didn't she make it a reality?

Slowly, and keeping her mind focused on Y/n's thoughts, Wanda descended down her body. She experimentally kissed the you woman's stomach, smirking at the soft whine that escapes the girl, the dream suddenly becoming more vivid.

Oh. Interesting.

Wanda placed another kiss near her hip, scraping her teeth against the skin slightly and feeling her own arousal pool at the low sound that escaped Y/n's lips.

The dream changed.

Suddenly, dream-Wanda was relentlessly fucking Y/n with her fingers, her features slightly blurry and soft, as most dreams were. Her red hair still draped flawlessly over her shoulders, and Wanda smirked as Y/n's subconscious seemed to focus on the way her fingers looked and felt.

Losing patience, Wanda reached down to feel her own arousal smearing over her fingers. Ah, fuck it.

Flattening her tongue, Wanda pressed it against Y/n's leaking core, recalling the blanket permission she'd received from the young women about waking her up with sex. It was the perfect way to start the morning.

Swirling her tongue around Y/n's clit, Wanda sighed in relief as the dream began to fade, her fingers digging into those soft hips as she held Y/n against the mattress.

"Wanda?" Y/n said, her voice soft and slightly raspy.

Not responding, Wanda simply wrapped her lips around the woman's clit and sucked harshly, drawing a broken moan from the depths of Y/n's chest.

Eventually, Y/n came, her cum smearing all over Wanda's lips and chin. She felt satisfied, blinking in confusion as her lover moved to kiss her on the lips.

Pulling back, Wanda smirked at her, licking her lips.

"Nice dream, you should dream of me more often."

Y/n rolled her eyes, wrapping her arms around Wanda's neck and pulling her in for another kiss, moaning softly at the taste of her arousal on the woman's lips. Breaking the kiss, she lightly shoved her onto the mattress, a soft, teasing smile on her face.

"Get out of my head, Wanda."

[helluvapoison]

Lucifer x Imp!Reader

warnings: imp bigotry, heavy topics, lowkey angsty (happy end, i swear)

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

• Secret relationship, baby!

• Let’s get into the hard part first, shall we? The discrimination of Imps isn’t something Lucifer set into motion. They helped him build Hell into what it is today—! Which is… flawed. Fuck, there’s no excuse. Know that he doesn’t condone it and he’s ashamed to admit he allowed it get this far

• That saying “history repeats itself”? Yeah, Hell isn’t immune

• It’s an elephant in the room situation when your and Lucifer’s feelings come into play. Along with the enormous power imbalance. He would never take advantage of that, by the way, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s there

• Those issues are in the beginning though. Yes, it takes a lot of time and many painful conversations but now? Undoubtedly worth it

• Lucifer is quite proud of himself for the charade he concocted. You pose as his employee! No one would question it and you could hang around as much as you like! It’s perfect, right?

• “It sounds like a shitty romcom plot.” You snort

Lucifer’s smile is unwavering, eyebrows high on his face as he awaits what he longs to hear.

“But?”

Sighing, you softly return his smile, “It’s perfect.”

• And like a shitty romcom, it is

• Naturally, there’s ups and downs

• For Lucifer, the worst is that he hates keeping you a secret. It’s not that he wants to dish it live with Katie Killjoy and Tom Trench, he’s rather private as is, he’s just so— happy! He wants to show how proud he is to be yours! Unfortunately, that would do more harm for all of Hell. Selfish as his wants might be, he wouldn’t do that. Especially if it meant putting you in danger

• Occasionally he takes you to meetings and events. You try and slip into the background, supporting him from the shadows. Even from the other side of the room, Lucifer’s eyes will find you standing amongst the other Imps. He accidentally ends up ignoring whoever’s trying to rub elbows with the King of Hell

• (Honestly, it’s a miracle no one has found you two out yet. His longing gazes are far from subtle)

• Sometimes those outings don’t end well. A blue blooded dickbag might’ve dumped their drink on you or shoved you because you were “in the way” or berated you in front of everyone. Lucifer sees red and the entire event is cut short via a demonic rage. On a positive note, his publicity goes off the charts! “King of Hell defends his people, no matter the race!”

• (A motherfucking miracle, I tell you)

• Lucifer likes to take care of you when those incidents occur. He feels guilty. For everything. Reassuring him has always easy for you in any other situation. This one just bleeds into something personal. A failure

• So, you let him take care of you. It improves his mood bit by bit. Could be pancakes! No matter the time of day, Lucifer’s go-to are pancakes. (He’ll simply die all over again if you let him feed you too) Could be a bath for the two of you to share, he loves washing you and putting a bubble beard on your face

• Sleepovers can be a tad difficult to pull off but no one disturbs him in the mornings. He loves having you in his arms all night long. Kissing your horns, forehead, eyes, nose and lips— yes, in that order— before wishing you only the sweetest dreams

• Lucifer has a rubber duck that looks uncannily like you sitting on his desk at all times

• Oh! And despite being an Imp, you’re still taller than your beloved short king. It’s slight but he adores the difference

♡ a/n: if i had a nickel for every time a blue blood fell in love with an imp, i’d have /three nickels HAHAHA

[ambcass]

INVINCIBLE X MALE READER BRO IT COULD BE ANYTBING HERO X VILLAIN OLS IM CRHIGN MY EYES OUT

hello everypony. this is my brother. he decided to SPAM my inbox for a fanfic for his twink. as the amazing sister I am I will write smth for him (after 1.5 weeks of this sitting in my inbox) I'll make a pt.2 if u want

"No, it can't be. You can't be *villain name*." is the same thing every guy you've dated said after you told them about your secret. The truth is, the world classified you as a villain. Everyone watching the news considered you a cold, no-good killing machine.

Being a villain with telepathy, telekinesis, fire abilities, and mind-altering powers is never a good mix for anyone! Would you kill your ex's after finding out you're a villain? No, you cared too much for them. Altering their mind until you erase yourself from their minds and everyone they knew.

This time is different. You met a dorky-looking boy with slicked-back dark hair and blue eyes on your first day at Reginald Vel Johnson High School. You two had chemistry together, and the second you stepped foot in that class, he couldn't keep his eyes off you. You were so handsome in his eyes. He told William all about you every since! Crazy how much someone can be so obsessed with someone even without mind-altering.

Did you notice at first? No. Bad as feelings as you were, you could not give a fuck about Mark. He didn't interest you in any way until one day.

You were not in a good mood that day at all. Last night you were running off rooftops, trying to escape the hero in yellow and blue. You got away by creating a firewall and going into his mind, making him forget why he was there in the first place. This stunned him and you receive plenty of time to escape. The next, you got to Chem and sat behind Mark and William's lab table. You close your eyes and rest your head on the table while using your arms as support.

"*Name*? Him? The boy behind us?" William's words caught your attention. You looked up and glared at the two. Intrigued, you pretended to sleep. Keeping out for what they were about to say. Mark forcefully turned William's head,

"Noooo. Why would it be! You're so funny! hahaha," Mark grinned awkwardly. He grabbed William's face and spoke quietly but loud enough for you to hear. "Of course it's *name* you moron! Don't say it out loud-" You cut him off.

"Will you two stop talking about me?" you asked. Mark's face turned tomato red as he sank to his chair in embarrassment. Both William and Mark would look back at you but Mark would just stare at you, smiling. "Okay. Creepy...but he's kinda cute." You smiled softly.

Time past by and you couldn't stop wondering why they were talking about you! It's not like you actually knew them. Your eyes lit up as a idea was formed. If he wouldn't tell you, then why not find out for yourself. A smirk appeared on your face. "He wouldn't mind if I just- " Focusing on Mark's mind, you wonder why he's been staring at you ever since your first day, why he's talking about you like he's got some type of crush on you.

"I really like *name* but don't know how to tell him. He seems cool and I want to be closer to him but I'm scared he will shut me out... I have to tell him how I feel eventually. Right?" You're shocked. Lost for words even. Were you flattered? Maybe. It's been a while since you've been in a romantic relationship. This might be it.

A few minutes before class was about to end, an idea came to your mind. Why not give Mark some help confessing to you? Was it wrong? Yes. Did you care? No. You focused on his mind again. First, you thought of Mark confessing to you. Then, you sent it off to his brain. Lastly, you watch everything come into play. The bell rang and you packed up your stuff. Mark was lost in a trance while William was trying to figure out what was going on.

"Earth to Mark! Hellooo? Is anyone home?" You walked past the two without saying a word but stopped at the door frame. Mark snapped out of it and sprung up from his seat with a joyous smile. William raised his brows to an overly happy Mark. "Hey, are you okay-" William was cut off,

"I think I'm gonna do it, Will. I think I'll tell him how I feel."

[tinydefector]

TINYYYYYYYYYY

Headcanon for human effect !!!!

Rodimus discovered how soft the ambassador is because once, they were in a meeting with UM and Megs about security protocols. Rodimus is bored a bit, so he tries to get the liaison's attention, in vain.

So he just... pokes them repeatedly in their side, because how else would he do that huh?

His digit dig a bit too much in their side, he can feel the warmth and the squishiness, and is surprise when they yelp and laugh.

"URGH!?- Rodimus! stop that it tickles hahaha!"

Oooooohh... ooh he has it baaaad... they just made the cutest noise he heard in a long time... he found their weak spot...

Megs and Mags just stare at him disappointed because the captain is unfocused and disturb the Ambassador.

Twisted ankle 13

Human effects Masterlist

Prev

Next

Word count: 2k

Warnings: post smut, getting walked in on.

_________________

The sound of shuffling and slight movement in the room is what makes the ambassador,  bleary eyes cracking open slightly as they take the form of a blue mech in. "Mmm Traxies?" They call out softly looking up from where they lay against Ratchet's chassis. 

Ratchet's optics online fractionally to see Traxies frozen mid-stride, jaw hanging open in blatant surprise. Drift stirred awake as well, arching a brow plate at youngling in undisguised amusement. 

Venting softly, Ratchet greeted their charge in familiar tones. "Good morning, Traxies. Causing trouble already, before the sun cycle?" Traxes gulped audibly, tripping over his pedes in haste to explain. "J-just wanted some energon, don't mind me! Uh - didn't mean to interrupt..." He trailed off, wide optics roving over the three in utter disbelief. 

Drift finally lost composure, snickering into his servo. Ratchet merely cycled a ventilation, serenely cradling the now-wakening ambassador. They pull their blanket closer in embarrassment being caught in such an undress state.

 Traxes cycled his optics rapidly, pedes rooted to the floor in awkward shock. "Uh, hey Ambassador. Fancy seeing you here..." He trailed off, field pulsing distressed embarrassment. Drift took pity, sending the younger mech. "Relax, kid. But you might want to be quick before this becomes anymore awkward for everyone”  

The medic frowned half-heartedly before turning a softer expression to Traxies. "I wasn't aware you would be back today." His tone is soft. Traxes shuffled awkwardly, kicking at imaginary scrapes on the floor. "So you - uh, fraggin' my friend now?" He blurted before wilting under Ratchet's stern glare. 

Drift howled laughter, drawing a foam pillow and lobbing it at the pouting youngling's helm. "Don't get your wires knotted! Go fuel up, we'll be along shortly." With a mumbled apology, Traxes beat a hasty retreat.

The Ambassador groans and presses their face into Ratchet chassis out of embarrassment. "Fuck" They mumble as the feeling Drift move to get out of berth. Their body felt like jelly and they truly didn't want to move, but knew they had to.  Ratchet's chassis hums beneath the ambassador's cheek. "There now, no harm done," the medic soothed gently. 

Drift stretched languidly as he rose, pausing to send them both fond smile. "He'll get over it. Ain't the first time that mechlet's walked in on more'n he bargained for." 

Ratchet rumbled a quiet chuckle, stroking their back with utmost care."Stay as long as you need." He whispered to them. They let out a sigh. "I've got work today Ratchet, Bridge command meeting about our next port and sending reports back to Cybertron. I think we might also be heading back to Cybertron. I don't look forward to having a holo meeting with Prowl again" they explain. 

Ratchet let out a theatrical groan at the Ambassador's words. "Primus spare us all from Prowl and his endless bureaucracy," he grumbled. 

Rising smoothly, he settled their draped guest against the berth with utmost care as he recovered their clothing and bag. "Well then, best get you ready, can't have you leaving looking a mess sweet thing." 

Drift poked his helm back in, wearing an impish grin. "Sounds like Ratch better patch you up right quick, Ambassador. Can't be limping through a vid call with Prowl looking like you spent the night trapped under this lugnut!" 

A rude gesture was the medic's only response, though his weathered faceplates crinkled with wry humour. "Scoot, you rusting gearstick - go make yourself useful." 

"Ratchet, Drift. Thank you for last night, it was lovely" they call to the two mechs before turning around with their clothing in hand to try and get dressed despite how sore they still are. 

“Pah, don't go getting all sappy now," Ratchet huffed, 

"Anytime you need a couple mechs to help...relax tensions," Drift coos only for Ratchet to swat the mech away, vents gusting irritation. But his optics shone with plain affection as they tracked the Drift's movements. "Take care on your travels and try not to let Prowl's do you in" 

Leaving the suite was a struggle, not wanting to get caught as they left. But walking down the halls with a slight limp was something they could easily state as twisting their ankle.

 Just as the ambassador rounded the corner, two familiar figures fell into step beside them - Nadia and Millian, matching grins stretching across their faces.

"Well well, look who finally decided to crawl out of bed," Nadia drawled archly, shamelessly raking her gaze over the ambassador's slightly dishevelled state. "Quite a night, hm?" 

Millian snickered, throwing an arm around their shoulders. "You dog! Spill the deets - whose bed were you warming, to work up such a limp?" Their smirk made clear they already guessed the culprits. 

Wincing, the ambassador tried to shrug them off with little success. "Nothing to tell. I'd prefer to keep my private business private, if you don't mind." 

But Nadia was having none of it, sidling close to share a conspicuous wink. "Ooh, getting cosy with the bot brass, are we? Can't say I blame you - they do know how to show a human a good time." 

Her grin widened at the ambassador's flustered face, taking their silence as confirmation enough. "Guys enough, I'm already in a  bad position if 'this' " they make a hand gesture at the two. "Gets out to Earth or Cybertron, it will be my neck in a noose so please don't" they try to settle the matter. They did enjoy chatting with Nadia and Millian but this was against regulation and if Megatron,  Rodimus or Ultra Magnus got whiff of it, it could mean their job on the Lost light.

Nadia and Millian sobered slightly at the ambassador's sombre tone, exchanging glances. "Alright, alright, we'll can it with the teasing," Nadia sighed, giving their arm a gentle squeeze. "You know we've got your back, yeah? No way would we see you in real trouble."

Millian nodded earnestly. "You're one of us, Ambassador - we look out for our own." Their grin returned, softer around the edges. "But hey, if anyone asks, you definitely did NOT just limp out of Ratchet's quarters. Cross my heart!" 

Nadia snickered, nudging them playfully. Her smile turned sincere as she studied their friend's tired yet peaceful expression. "And between us? I'm glad you found a little respite aboard this floating madhouse. We all need that, now and then."

"Thank you, I'll give you guys some details later but I do have a meeting with bridge command and I need to try and make it look like I didn't just crawl out of bed with two mechs" they mumble softly only for the two to give them a look of pure shock.

"Two?!" Millian echoes in a frankly scandalised yelp. Nadia elbows them sharply, making frantic shushing motions with her hands. 

"Keep it down, you idiot!" She hisses under her breath before turning back to the ambassador with gleaming eyes. "Well well, you little minx - getting cosy with both the medic and robo Samurai" Her grin is positively wolfish. 

concern shadows Millian’s gaze. "Just be careful, Ambassador. Fraternisation regs or no - getting tangled up with high command could spell trouble if word spreads." 

Nadia nods earnestly. "They're right. Not that we don't support you, but..." she fidgets, taking their hands, giving a gentle squeeze. 

"Both Ratchet and Drift made it clear they don't expect anything from me. offered if I need stress relief I was welcome. Plus Ratchet would rather know what I'm getting up to Incase he needs to perform medical on me" they whisper to them as the three walk towards the Ambassador's next stop.

"Hmm. Well that's reasonable enough, I suppose," Nadia muses pragmatically, though a glint of mischief remains in her eyes. "And who could resist the charms of those two mechs? You do have excellent taste, I'll give you that." 

Millian grin softens as they near the lift that will take the ambassador to their meeting. "Jokes aside, I'm glad you've found comfort here, weird ship though it is. Not the life any of us expected, but..." 

They shrugs amicably. "We make the most of what joys we can. And there are certainly perks to rubbing plating with the people in charge." A final wink, and Millian steps back with Nadia, offering a casual salute. 

"Knock 'em dead at the meeting, Ambassador. And try not to limp too obviously" they chuckle as the lift doors close. 

Megatron is sitting looking rather bored, but his optics light up when he sees the Ambassador a small smile graces his faceplate.  Magnus gives a small nod while Rodimus smiles like a fool waving before making his way towards them. "Hello Rodimus,  sorry I twisted my ankle earlier and it's not pleasant to walk" they chuckle softly hoping the lie passed over their helms without making them question how. 

Magnus merely nodded greeting, ever professional and stern. "Let us proceed with the agenda. Your tardiness sets us behind schedule." 

Rodimus, of course, could not be contained. "Oof, rough night? Happens to the best of us!" He moves towards them with a smile. "Ratchet patch you up okay?" 

Ultra Magnus sighed heavily. "Captain, please. We are in the midst of official proceedings." 

"I'm alright, Ratchet said it will be fine nothings broken, just going to be sore for a bit." They confirm to Rodimus as the mech picks them up and brings them to the table. Rodimus continues to let his servos and digits poke the Ambassador. Making them fidget. 

"Have we heard from Optimus if we have been requested to return to Cybertron, he was rather worried about Traxies, or if Galactica Union has asked for a new report on our recent travels?" They inquire dreading and hoping they didn't have to have another holo meeting with Prowl. 

Megatron studied the interplay with optics gleaming curiosity. " Captain, do cease your pestering the Liason." His field pulsed amusement as Rodimus reluctantly set the squirming human down. "To answer your query, Ambassador - I'm afraid your schedule remains as packed as ever. Word from Prime requests our return within the decacycle, and the Union demands their tedious status updates with predictable punctuality." 

Ultra Magnus nodded curt approval. "And Prowl as well, regarding the security details and records of the ship. He requires an immediate vid conference to...discuss developments." Rodimus groaned dramatically. "Ugh, leave it to Prowl to ruin a perfect morning. Why can't he just lurk in the shadows like Megs here and let us have our fun?" 

Megatron shoots Rodimus a glare but does make an effort to dignify Rodimus’ remark. "Ah sounds about right, I can't convince one of you to handle the Prowl meeting? I will happily deal with Optimus or the Galactica union, and take on extra work. Please" they nearly beg, only to yelp as Rodimus' digits run up their side  making them stiffen not expecting the contact. "Rodimus!"

Megatron observed with growing amusement as the small human squirmed fruitlessly in Rodimus's mischievous grasp. "Captain, tormenting them will not make their tasks any easier." 

He turned a gaze of singular intent upon Ultra Magnus. "I believe a request was made, Magnus. And as holders of far greater stamina and patience with the Enforcer, taking the meeting would be a small alleviation to your schedule, would it not?"

Magnus's field pulsed reluctance but duty compelled as expected. "Very well. As ranking officer, handling communication with Alliance High Command falls under my purview. I will handle Prowl at the scheduled time."

Rodimus whooped with glee, finally releasing the frazzled ambassador. "Looks like you're off the hook! Maybe you can help me with some more of those charts you were showing me last time so I can get better at reading them." He grinned down at them. 

They slowly lean back into Rodimus as they talk with Megatron and Ultra Magnus. "I'll make sure we are stocked for the trip back, do you need to organise anyone for the quantum generators maintenance?" The Ambassador asks, shuttering again as Rodimus continues to touch them.

Ultra Magnus cleared his intake, field broadcasting discomfort yet compelled as ever by duty. "I will see to ensuring all systems are fully prepped and operational for transit. Your role is coordination with our human team so they are set for a quantum jump, Ambassador."

Rodimus fairly purred against the human's back, appreciating how warm their smaller frame is against his. They are so soft and plush in his servos and primus he doesn't want to let go of them. 

____________

Let me know if you would like to be added to tag list (tagged for every fic)

Taglist

@angelxcvxc

@saturnhas82moons

@horizonartist980

@murkyponds

@buddee

@bubblyjoonjoon

@chaihena

@pyreemo

@lovenotcomputed

@mskenway97

@delectableworm

@cheesecaketyrant

@ladyofnegativity

@desertrosesmetaldune

@stellasfallow

@coffee-or-hot-cocoa

@shinseiokami

@tea-loving-frog

@aquaioart

@daniel-meyer-03

@pupap123

@dannyaleksis

@averysillylittlefellow

@rosielecktor

@shurushurubanban

@wosemoose1

@strawberrydutchling

@azuragalaxya

@dumpster-fae

@simp-sentral

@smallestapplin

@starscreamloverfr

@doodle-dongs

@natchayaphorn

@askcookieanon

@aerisvirtue

@horizonartist980

@soulless-nocturnal-raccoon

@gracebear

@lilliaslonghair

@savvy-the-mad-scientist

@rabies10

@alextheknight707

@chershire23

[tacobacoyeet]

big man | patrick zweig x reader

a/n: haha... hahaha... anyway based on paramore's big man, little dignity. love you.

warnings: SMUT 18+, emotional abuse, manipulation, mentions of smoking (?), mentions of alcohol, cheating, mean!toxic!patrick zweig, tashi mention because i can't help myself, hastily proofread

It wasn’t supposed to happen this fast. You didn’t mean to fall this hard.

But there was something so… magnetic about the way he looked at you. It’s not like you didn’t know who he was—it was impossible to play tennis and not know the name Patrick Zweig. You could’ve convinced yourself he was nothing more than a myth, a collection of whispers formed into something that made tennis players and enthusiasts refer to him as though he was some sort of deity.

He was real, though. You learned that for the first time when you were at Tashi Duncan’s champion’s party, sponsored by Adidas, of course. You’re nursing a soda, eyes trailing over the beautifully decorated—with both accolades and standard decorations—scene, certainly not paying attention to anything in front of you, when you accidentally bump into him. Or maybe he bumped into you… the details were a little fuzzy. It wasn’t very easy to remember much when the only thing you could focus on were his beautiful eyes, a true vision of earth manifested in those tiny specks of hazel and green.

“Sorry,” you had said, immediately embarrassed for not being aware of your surroundings, and for staring so shamelessly at him. It was hard not to, though.

“No, no need to be sorry,” he laughed. “I get it. Tashi’s… she’s really easy on the eyes.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” you nervously chuckled. “Yeah, she’s—”

“So are you.”

“Sh—what?”

He laughed again. “So are you,” he repeats. “Easy on the eyes, I mean. Pretty. You’re really pretty.”

Well, shit. Now he had you blushing, looking down at your wedges like their straps were the most interesting thing you had ever seen.

“Hey,” he says softly, a crooked grin playing at his lips as he lifts your chin up, gently forcing you to meet his gaze. “I’m serious. You’re like, beautiful. What’s your Facebook?”

From there, your relationship was a thing so beautiful, you were convinced it wasn’t even real. He was ever the gentleman, the embodiment of chivalry and the definition of effort, each date more stunning than the last. Champagne rooftop moments, after-hours locker room makeouts, private match tickets and breakfast in bed. He made it so easy to forget the world.

And God, the way he fucked you…

It was art. Not just sex—never just sex. It was devotion laced in depravity. It was fingers curled tight in your hair while he fed you his cock, groaning low as tears streaked your cheeks, telling you how good you looked like that—ruined. It was him pushing your knees back until your thighs burned, watching himself disappear into you over and over again while you begged and babbled nonsense, drunk on him.

He made it a ritual. Tongue first—always—until you were shaking, legs trembling around his head as he licked through you like he was starving. He’d take his time, savoring every twitch, every moan. Sometimes he’d make you come like that three times before even unzipping his pants. And when he finally did, he didn’t just fuck you—he claimed you. A hand around your throat, his name on your tongue, a low “that’s it, baby, take it,” rasped against your lips as he pounded into you hard enough to leave bruises that lasted for days.

He made you say it—over and over again. Who you belonged to. Whose pussy it was. How good he made you feel. Until you cried it, screamed it, gasped it, whimpering like it hurt to need him that badly.

He’d come with your name broken on his mouth, fingers digging into your hips like he was afraid you’d slip away. And afterward, he’d whisper the softest things while still buried inside you. “I missed you, baby. You’re everything. My everything.”

And you’d believe him.

Because when Patrick Zweig fucked you, it felt like being worshipped by the devil himself—sacred, ruinous, unforgettable.

You never stood a chance.

You’re both in the shower, bodies flushed and slick with sweat and steam, the sound of water hitting porcelain barely loud enough to drown out the lazy kisses and soft laughter. He’s behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, head resting on your shoulder like he’s never been more content. You could almost believe this was forever.

Then his phone buzzes.

It’s on the bathroom counter, screen lighting up with a preview of a message. You don’t even think before looking—it’s habit by now. There’s nothing to hide. You trust him. He’s given you every reason to.

Until now.

Your eyes catch on the name. A girl. Not just any girl. One of the ones you’ve asked him about before. The kind of girl who leaves comments on his photos that toe the line between playful and predatory. He always brushed it off. Always said it was nothing.

But the message says otherwise: "Last night was unreal. I can still taste you. ;)"

Your heart drops. Your stomach twists. The steam doesn’t feel warm anymore—it feels suffocating. You blink at the screen again, hoping you misread it. But it’s still there. Brazen. Bold. Brutal.

You hear his hum behind you again, soft and sleepy and oblivious as he basks in the afterglow of the sin that had lead you here in the first place. He kisses your shoulder. Nuzzles your neck.

“Patrick,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

“Hm?” he murmurs against your skin.

You step forward. Just enough to breathe. Just enough to not drown.

“Who’s Camille?”

The change is instant. His body stiffens. His lips still against your skin. You feel the shift like a temperature drop, the sting of something far colder than water.

“What?”

“Your phone just buzzed. I saw the name.”

There’s a beat of silence where the water is the only thing that moves. Then—

“Jesus,” he says, the word spat more than spoken. “You’re checking my phone now?”

“I wasn’t checking—”

“That’s fucked up,” he cuts in, sharper now. Louder. “I thought you trusted me.”

“I did.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Doesn’t defend himself. Doesn’t even look at you.

“She’s no one,” he says finally, voice low, too even. “It’s not what you think.”

But it is. You know it is. Your bones know it. Your gut aches with it.

“Tell me the truth.”

“I told you. It’s nothing. She’s just—she’s exaggerating. I didn’t even—fuck, I was drunk.”

There it is. The first lie with teeth.

You feel something inside you snap. Quietly. Like a thread pulling too tight.

You step out of the shower. You wrap yourself in a towel. You don’t cry.

Not yet.

He follows you out, says your name like it’s a plea, like he’s hurt you somehow. He touches your wrist. You flinch.

And yet—

When he kisses you, you let him.

When he says he loves you, you believe him. Or at least you pretend to.

Because the thing about Patrick Zweig is he’s carved himself into your bones so deeply, you don’t know how to be anything other than his.

And that’s how he gets you to stay.

You don’t know it yet, but this is the first unraveling. The beginning of the rot.

The next few weeks are an open wound.

You try to carry on like nothing’s happened. You still show up at his place, still wear his sweatshirts, still laugh at his stupid impressions of press conferences. But it’s there. In every kiss that doesn’t last long enough. Every text that goes unanswered for just a little too long. Every time he turns away in bed instead of pulling you close.

You start noticing things. A second toothbrush that isn’t yours. A perfume you don’t wear. New scratches on his back you didn’t leave.

You ask questions. He changes the subject.

You beg. He gaslights.

You cry. He sighs.

And still—you stay.

Because some part of you thinks you can love him hard enough to make it untrue. Because the memory of who he was at the beginning is louder than the man who lies to your face now.

But rot spreads fast. And before long, it touches everything.

It starts over dinner. Something stupid. You’re telling him a story from your day, and he’s not listening—just scrolling, scrolling, scrolling. His phone glows cold against the candlelight.

“Patrick,” you say, a little too softly. “Are you even hearing me?”

He doesn’t look up. “Mm-hmm.”

You put your fork down. “What did I just say?”

He sighs. The kind of sigh that says you’re already too much. “I don’t know. Something about someone at work being annoying.”

You blink at him. “No. I was talking about my sister. She got accepted into grad school.”

“Okay?” he mutters. “Why are you getting so worked up?”

“I’m not worked up, I’m hurt,” you say, voice trembling. “This mattered to me. She matters to me. I thought you'd care.”

He scoffs. “Not everything has to be a performance, you know. You don’t have to turn every minor thing into some dramatic cry for attention.”

You freeze. That one hits a little too hard, a little too precise. He knows where your insecurities live. He built half of them.

You rise from your chair. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to make me feel crazy just because you can’t be bothered to look up from your phone.”

“Oh my god, not this again,” he groans, standing too. “You act like I don’t love you just because I missed one part of a conversation.”

“You don’t love me!” It bursts out of you like glass shattering. “You love having me. That’s different.”

His expression darkens. “You’re insane.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“No—seriously, you need help or something. You twist everything. You’re so fucking exhausting, I don’t even know why I—”

“Why you what?” you whisper, staring at him like you’re looking through the ghost of who he used to be. “Why you picked me?”

The silence after is nuclear.

That’s when you know. He won’t say it. He doesn’t have to.

So you walk away.

And of course—he doesn’t stop you.You don’t shout again. You don’t cry in front of him. You just turn and start gathering your things. The hoodie that still smells like him. Your toothbrush. Your charger. Your pride.

He watches from the hallway, arms crossed, jaw set like stone.

When you pause at the door, he doesn’t move.

He doesn’t stop you.

And that’s what finally breaks you.

You leave. You finally leave. And for a moment—just a flicker—you feel weightless.

Like maybe you’re free.

Like maybe you’ll survive this.

Like maybe you can forget how good his mouth felt between your thighs and how he once cried when you whispered you loved him and how, for one brief moment in the beginning, he made you feel like the only girl in the world.

But that’s the thing about Patrick Zweig.

He never lets go for long.

-----

It starts with a text. One of those late-night, half-formed apologies typed with clumsy fingers and a heart that doesn’t really mean it. You don’t answer. Not that time.

Then another. Then a call. Then a voicemail—slurred, soft, almost sweet.

“Y?N, Baby, please. I know I fucked up. I just… I don’t know how to sleep without you.”

You play it twice. Then a third time, just to hear the way his voice cracks at your name.

You delete it.

But you don’t block him.

It takes a week of silence before the knock comes. 2am, and you’re in a hoodie that’s too big and not yours anymore, standing barefoot at the door with a storm behind your ribs.

You open it.

He’s soaked in rain and whiskey. Hair tousled, shirt half-buttoned, eyes glassy. Beautiful in the way that makes you ache.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he says.

“No. You shouldn’t.”

But you step aside.

He kisses you before the door even closes, mouth desperate, hands familiar. You hate how easily your body remembers him. Hips grinding, tongues clashing, breath caught between apologies and gasps.

“You hate me,” he says against your throat.

“I don't,” you whisper. Your fingers are already tangled in his shirt.

He fucks you like a man starved. No slow build, no ceremony—just teeth and hands and skin. He lifts you onto the kitchen counter, yanks your shorts down, and slides into you with a groan so raw it almost sounds like pain.

“God, I missed this. Missed you.”

You don’t answer. You just wrap your legs around him tighter, trying to shut out the voice in your head screaming that this is a mistake.

He pulls orgasm after orgasm out of you like confessions, coaxing pleasure from you with a vengeance that borders on cruelty. Every thrust is both a punishment and an apology, every groan a promise he has no intention of keeping. He says your name like a curse and a prayer, buried deep inside you, shaking with need.

When your body finally gives out—spent, trembling, boneless in his arms—he doesn’t stop. Not right away. He lays you out on the table like something precious, lips brushing your collarbone, your ribs, your thighs. His voice is quiet, reverent, ruined.

“You’re it for me,” he breathes, mouth hot against your pulse. “You’re everything. No one else touches me like this. No one else gets me.”

You don’t believe him. But still, you part your legs when he slides down between them again.

He licks you open with a desperation that makes your vision blur, hands gripping your hips like they’re his anchor to this plane. You’re already raw. Already aching. But you come again anyway, because that’s what he does to you. He ruins you. Again and again and again.

When it’s over—when you’re sprawled on the cold wood, heart rattling like something loose in your chest—he gathers you up in his arms and carries you to bed.

You let him.

Not because you believe him.

But because he still feels like home.

He curls around you like he never left, breath steady, heart calm, while yours flails and panics in your chest.

And in the hush of that impossible, aching silence, he whispers, “We can make it work this time. I swear.”

And for a while, you let yourself believe him.

That maybe the second time is the charm. That maybe love is supposed to be hard. That maybe the sharpness in his voice, the silence in his touch, the way he fucks you like he’s trying to empty you out—is still some kind of intimacy.

But the thing about second chances is they always rot faster.

He stops pretending to care about the little things. Forgets your birthday. Cancels plans last-minute. Makes promises he doesn’t remember by morning. You make excuses for him to your friends. To yourself.

He starts coming home later. Smelling like smoke and vodka and someone else’s perfume.

The sex becomes crueler. Not rough in the way you used to love. Just careless. Thoughtless. A means to an end.

Sometimes he finishes and rolls away without a word, without looking at you, without kissing you goodnight.

Sometimes he doesn’t finish at all.

You try harder. You cook. You clean. You buy lingerie. You post old photos of you both with nostalgic captions and wait for him to like them. He doesn’t.

And when you finally say something—just a gentle, trembling question, "Patrick, do you even still want me?"—he laughs. He fucking laughs.

"Don’t be so dramatic," he says, tossing his keys on the counter like he didn’t just set fire to the last shred of your dignity.

You follow him into the bedroom. He’s pulling off his jacket, already halfway to ignoring you.

"You haven’t touched me in days. You barely look at me—"

"Maybe that’s because you’re always so needy," he cuts in. "Jesus, can I breathe for five seconds without you asking for some kind of emotional check-in?"

You stare at him. You feel your throat close around something ugly.

"I just want to know I matter."

He turns to you. Smirks. "You do. When you’re not being such a bitch about it."

You feel the crack before you hear it.

Somewhere inside you, something folds. Collapses.

You don’t cry. Not yet.

You just turn, and walk into the bathroom. Lock the door. Sit on the edge of the tub and breathe.

That night, you don’t sleep beside him. You lie awake on the couch, staring at the ceiling, wondering if he ever meant any of it.

And when he leaves the next morning without a word, you already know the answer.

-----

Time passes in fragments.

You don’t speak. You don’t text. You go through the motions of your life like a ghost in borrowed skin. Your friends rally—offering wine and weekends and distractions. You smile when you’re supposed to. You laugh when it’s required.

You lie. “I’m fine.”

And for a while, it’s almost believable.

Until the party.

You didn’t plan to go. You almost cancel three times before deciding maybe you need this. Maybe you deserve this.

You wear a dress that makes you feel like someone else. Lips red. Eyes sharp. You look good—no, dangerous. Like you’ve moved on.

You don’t expect him to be there.

But of course he is.

He’s standing across the room, laughing too loud, drink in hand, suit just barely wrinkled like he didn’t even try. Like he doesn’t have to.

And he looks… breathtaking. He always did.

He doesn’t see you at first.

You watch him—watch the curve of his mouth, the way people orbit him like he’s the center of something burning.

You hate him.

You hate how your thighs clench when he runs a hand through his hair.

You hate how the room goes quiet in your head when he finally, finally sees you.

His eyes rake over you slowly. Deliberately.

You feel it all the way down to your knees.

He crosses the room like the world owes him access to your body.

“You look…” he trails off, licking his lips. “Wow.”

“Fuck you,” you say. But it comes out breathless.

He smiles. That smile. “That’s fair.”

You want to walk away. You really do.

But instead, you drain your drink.

He walks first.

And you hesitate.

You shouldn’t go. You know you shouldn’t go. Your fingers are shaking, and you’re still trying to remember how to breathe, and your heart is screaming at you to run. To turn around. To choose yourself, for once.

But then he glances over his shoulder.

That look.

Like he already knows you’ll follow. Like he always knew.

And you do.

Up the stairs. Past laughter and clinking glasses and music that doesn’t matter. Into the hush of your hotel room, door closing behind you like the last note of a funeral hymn.

He doesn’t touch you right away.

Just stands there, watching. Like he’s waiting to see if you’ll break first.

You don’t. Not yet.

“Why did you come tonight?” you ask. Your voice is steadier than you expect.

He shrugs. “Why did you?”

You don’t answer. You don’t need to.

The tension coils between you like wire pulled taut.

“You miss me,” he says finally.

You laugh. Bitter. “I miss who you pretended to be.”

He flinches. Just slightly. Then steps forward.

“You still wore my favorite perfume.”

“You still smell like lies.”

You don’t mean to let your eyes drop to his mouth.

But you do.

And he sees.

“Tell me to leave,” he says, close now. Too close. “Tell me to leave, and I will.”

But you can’t.

You never could.

So you don’t.

You step into him like a prayer. Like a curse.

He catches your mouth in a kiss that’s all teeth and memory. Hands fisting in your hair, your dress, your dignity. You moan into him, half in fury, half in surrender.

Clothes hit the floor in pieces. Your back slams against the door. His fingers are already between your legs, testing, teasing, taunting.

“You’re soaked,” he growls. “Missed me that much?”

You hate him. God, you hate him.

But your hips chase his hand anyway.

He fucks you like a weapon. Uses your body like it’s his to break. Fists in your hair. His mouth on your neck, your breasts, your soul. He bends you over the dresser and takes you from behind, one hand tangled in your hair, the other pressed flat over you like he’s trying to anchor you to the moment.

“You’re mine,” he says, voice dark and low. “Say it.”

“No,” you gasp.

He thrusts harder.

“Say it.”

You cry out. Dig your nails into the wood. He hits the spot that makes you see stars.

“Fuck—Patrick—”

He grins against your shoulder. “There she is.”

When he flips you over, sits you onto the dresser, and slides back in, your legs wrap around him like instinct. Like ruin. Like home.

He doesn’t stop until your makeup is smeared, your thighs are trembling, your voice hoarse from calling his name.

And when you come again, shaking around him, you’re not sure if it’s from pleasure or pain or the horrifying possibility that maybe—just maybe—you still love him.

He doesn’t kiss you after.

He zips up his pants. Pulls on his shirt. Walks to the window like he’s already somewhere else. You stay sitting on the edge of the bed, legs shaking, heart a bruised thing in your chest.

He doesn’t say anything—not goodnight, not thank you, not stay. Not that he has the right to. He’s using your space.

You lie down on the far side of the bed, staring at the ceiling. You listen to him brushing his teeth. You listen to the rustle of him undressing again. The sheets shifting as he climbs in beside you.

But he doesn’t touch you.

You barely sleep.

And when the morning comes, sunlight crawling over your hotel linens and your bare skin, you feel it—this new emptiness, different from all the others. He’s already up. Already dressed. Sipping coffee and scrolling through his phone like last night didn’t happen.

You sit up, slowly.

“Are you really going to pretend none of that meant anything?” you ask, voice raw.

He doesn’t look up. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to mean it,” you whisper. “I want you to still be him.”

He snorts. “Yeah, well. I want a lot of things.”

And then, casually—as if he’s commenting on the weather—he says it: “You always were easy.”

The silence is immediate. Deafening.

You don’t speak. You can’t. You just stare at him, like you’re seeing him for the first time.

And maybe you are.

“Get out,” you whisper.

He sighs, grabs his things, and doesn’t even glance back. Like he was never planning to stay. Like you were just the most convenient place to crash for the night.

When the door clicks shut behind him, it takes the last piece of you with it.

So you sit there, bare and shaking and covered in bruises you asked for, trying to piece together how the man who once said you were everything could make you feel like nothing.

-----

You tell your friends you’re fine.

The days become weeks. The weeks become months.

It’s not constant—not all-consuming, not every second—but it lingers. He lingers. Like a bruise that refuses to fade.

You go out. You swipe. You kiss people who don’t taste like him. You delete his number, then dig through your email to find it again.

You smile. You nod. You joke about it—“Can you believe I fucked him again? God, I’m so over it.”

They believe you. Maybe even you believe you.

Until it’s 2am again.

You’re lying in bed with your phone lighting up your face, the soft glow of his name on your search bar. You scroll through photos from his latest match, one where he’s smiling, sweaty, victorious. Thousands of likes. Hundreds of comments.

You click through them like it’s a ritual. A punishment.

His Instagram. His Facebook. His fucking LinkedIn.

You’re not sure what you’re looking for.

A sign that he misses you. A girl he’s moved on to. Proof that he hasn’t.

You scroll until your thumb aches. Until your eyes burn.

And somewhere between his Wimbledon press clip and an old photo of him kissing your cheek from a year ago, your hand is slipping down beneath the waistband of your shorts.

You close your eyes. You hate yourself.

You picture his voice. His hands. His mouth.

You come with a muffled sob of his name, biting your wrist to keep quiet.

You tell yourself it’s closure.

But it’s not.

It’s obsession.

It’s hate.

It’s muscle memory and madness.

It’s fingers slipping past your waistband at the same time every night, lit only by the flicker of his latest headline.

You press your palm flat against your stomach, trying to still the ache, to hush the guilt. You pretend it’s someone else’s voice you hear in your head. You pretend the image behind your eyes isn’t him in that suit, smirking, untouched, unbothered.

You touch yourself to his highlight reels, his sweat-slick smile, the sound of your name whispered like a curse in memory.

You bite your wrist until your teeth leave little moons.

You come like you’re trying to forget.

But you don’t.

You never do.

Because some ghosts don’t leave.

Some gods don’t fall.

Some people keep on winning.

-----

tagging: @artstennisracket @kimmyneutron @kharwreck @queensunshinee @hanneh69 @glennussy @awaywithtime @babyspiderling @jamespotteraliveversion @artdonaldsonbabygirl