#i’ve been trying. so. so. so fucking hard

[vampiefemme]

Idk if your requests are open but I keep thinking of Vi being over at your house for Christmas, but she's too horny and it's very very hard for her to keep her hands off yourself, she ends up fucking you in the bathroom like you're on the counter trying to keep quiet cuz you wouldn't hear the end of it if your family found out 😫 (I am begging pls I need Vi do to that to me)

bitch, you read my mind because this is all i’ve been thinking about these past few days. i’m a little drunk so forgive me for not writing anything substantial, but ugh.

i need vi at a family christmas gathering. she’s charming and sweet and funny, bringing a homemade dish to the christmas party (she spent hours agonizing over it being perfect), maybe a handle of liquor if your family gets down like that. maybe it’s her first christmas with your family, so she’s determined to make a good impression. and she does - she’s a riot. she cracks countless jokes during the white elephant gift exchange, she makes a killer cocktail for your tipsy relatives, she even washes dishes when they pile up too high in the sink. she’s an absolute hit.

but you know what? it’s hard for her to be such a good, upstanding first-time-at-christmas girlfriend when you’re in a skirt and thigh-high socks, sauntering around with your tits bouncing beneath a glittery festive top. it’s hard when she has you taste-test your relative’s dirty martini, and you roll your eyes back with an exaggerated moan. it’s tough when you’re looking so comfortable, so happy, so at home.

so she follows you up to the bathroom when you announce to the family that you need to take a piss, too much cider and mulled wine in your system. she stumbles into the bathroom with you, catches you with your skirt half-tugged down your hips, pulls you in for a hungry, nasty, dirty kiss. you taste like liquor and mashed potatoes and green beans, but fuck, it’s good. she pushes you onto the counter, spreads your legs. and when she eats you out on the countertop of your childhood bathroom, her hand pressed to your mouth to stifle your moans, she knows she’s made quite an impression.

[bucketbueckers]

LAYUPS & LAYOVERS

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader wc: 2.9k content warnings: language, fluff, author is southern and doesn't understand how snow or marketing works, plot where there doesn’t need to be plot synopsis: It’s Christmas Eve and you’re in Connecticut, exhausted and just trying to get to Minnesota for a work conference. You could cry when it’s announced that all flights are being halted due to the incoming blizzard. Irritated, tired, and overworked, you pray for a miracle, although it takes an unnatural shape in the form of a six foot blonde athlete who’s just trying to make it home, too. Late night airport conversations lead to something more. notes: merry christmas eve from my delusions to yours! the last chapter of irp was super heavy so here's my apology and christmas gift (do i drop another one tmr...i really dont wanna write chapter 8 😩). i hope you all enjoy this short n sweet lil ramble i threw together and happy holidays 🫶

This can not be your life right now.

It’s actually kind of impressive how all of the stars aligned on this one particular night to fuck you over. You’re not a terrible person. You hold the doors for everyone, give up your seat on the bus for sweet old ladies, and you always allocate a portion of your paychecks to donate to Wikipedia. By all accounts, you should be overwhelmed with good karma, although it seems your luck has depleted on this night and this night alone.

It all started on the 20th when you flew out to Connecticut. You work a cushy job as a marketing consultant for the WNBA, which means you spend a lot of time in the air and across the country trying to unfuck – sorry, trying to optimize and rejuvenate – the state of the league and its teams. It’s a task easier said than done. Nobody seems to want to listen to you until they realize that your master’s degrees in marketing and business analytics actually mean something and aren’t just really expensive pieces of paper that you hang in your office. You spend a couple of days in Uncasville talking strategies to boost ticket sales and to gain more traction; they’re the only professional team the state has – it should not be hard to get people to show up if you can market it right, but here you are.

Connecticut is nearly a bust. It’s cold and you spend two full days in meetings getting talked over by men who think they understand numbers and branding. Then, on the third day, the front office suddenly realizes what you’ve been talking about (this shit was covered in your sophomore year intro to marketing class, but hey, the less people know, the more you get paid, so who’s really complaining?) and the trajectory of your trip makes a sudden turnaround. On the 23rd and early on the 24th, you help the Sun roll out the new optimizations, and what do you know? Ticket sales surge by 17%, including some season tickets, all is well in the world and it’s a goddamn Christmas miracle.

Then, all is suddenly not well and you remember that Christmas miracles are for people not surrounded by idiots. Your boss emails you just before you leave for the airport: The Lynx need your help. I’ve sent you tickets for the first flight out of Connecticut. Meet with them on the 26th. Said “flight” departs from Connecticut at 8:30pm on Christmas Eve, which means you’re not even in Minnesota until 12am if you’re lucky, which means you have to figure out hotel arrangements so you can take a nap because you’ve barely slept in five days, which means you have to figure out how to be nice to people again because the Sun front office has you pissed all the way the fuck off.

So, you’re tired, overworked, extremely irritated, and hungry, although that last problem is solved by airport Subway. You just hope that doesn’t come back to bite you in the ass, either – you firmly believed that you were better off betting all of your money on black rather than taking the chance on airport food, but you didn’t have much of a choice and your stomach was growling. You eat, settling in a chair at your gate, and patiently await for your plane to arrive.

Then, the overhead PA clicks on with some static noise, announcing, “Flight 932 to Minneapolis and all other flights exiting Hartford will be delayed due to inclement weather. I repeat–”

The blood rushes to your head. Your eye twitches. There’s a crying baby somewhere in the airport and you can’t take it anymore. Honestly, what’s stopping you? Flying a plane cannot be that difficult. You’re pretty persuasive. You can tell TSA you’re just young for a pilot and you’re not wearing a pilot’s uniform because it’s Christmas Eve and what are you, the feds? All you’re really asking for at this point is a nap but there’s no way in hell you’re making it to a hotel in these conditions and the chances of you sleeping in an airport with all of your belongings out for someone to grab are even lower.

A commotion towards the check in counter commands your attention. You turn, dreading the eventual crash out of an airport Karen, but it’s better than the crying baby who still hasn’t shut the fuck up.

“Please, there’s gotta be something else you can do,” a tall, broad-shouldered blonde is begging, her hair pulled into a loose ponytail. “It’s Christmas Eve, I have to get home.”

The lady at the check in counter sounds sympathetic when she responds. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but our hands are tied. We can’t send our planes out in this weather, but if it eases up, the next flight out should have you arriving in Minneapolis by tomorrow afternoon.”

You hear the blonde groan, her tone sounding something like, I can’t fucking believe this is my life, which is a sentiment you whole-heartedly agree with. “Can you please lemme know if there’s anything earlier?” she pleads. “Like, if by the grace of God this weather clears and we can leave sooner.”

“Of course, ma’am. All updates will be announced.”

The response is almost robotical, but you can tell the receptionist is trying her best, too, and the last place she wants to be is hanging out at the airport on Christmas Eve. The blonde sighs, thanking her, and from the corner of your eye, you watch her hike her bag up over her shoulder and she moves to sit directly in front of you. That’s when you truly get a good look at her, at the dejected blue of her eyes, the chisel of her jaw, the logo on her hoodie. Paige Bueckers is no stranger to you. You grew up watching ball, so obviously you’re familiar with her game – any self-respecting basketball fan is. But by virtue of your job, Paige Bueckers is a name that makes your marketing heart beat just a little faster. Ever since Dallas won the lottery, you’ve been all over their marketing team. Paige’s entire existence and the chance she gets drafted to Dallas is the sole reason the Wings’ tickets are flying off the shelves. She’s the most marketable college athlete there is right now, one of the top rookie prospects for the league, but one look at her face in person and you’re forgetting all about your job. Her jaw is tight with a simmering anger, and honestly, you feel terrible for her – she already spends so much time away from her family and here she is trying to get out of Bumfuck, Connecticut, so she can be home in time for Christmas.

You find a little bit of bravery when you raise your voice slightly to ask her, “No luck?”

She looks up, glancing at you and taking in your features, and laughing slightly when she realizes you’re genuinely just trying to make conversation and not trying to get a soundbite out of her. “You heard that?” she asks sheepishly, sinking a little in her seat to get comfortable. You pretend to not notice her manspread.

“Well,” you begin, glancing over at the receptionist. “The desk is like, ten feet away.” She laughs again and nods, murmuring touche under her breath. “932 Minneapolis?” you ask, referring to your flight.

Paige nods again, quirking a smile. “You stalking me or sum’?”

You shrug your shoulders, a coy smile on your face. “Just observant,” you quip.

Paige grins fully. “What about you?” she asks. “You work for the league?”

At that, you can’t help your surprise, raising a brow. “How’d you know that?”

“Just observant,” she throws your words back at you. You laugh. “Kidding. I see your ID pokin’ out of your bag. You from here, or they got you workin’ on the holidays?”

“Work,” you respond. Paige whistles lowly. “I’m a marketing consultant. Been up here for a few days working with the Sun, then I’m heading to Minnesota to fix the Lynx’s bullshit.” You blink, registering your words, blushing as Paige laughs. “You did not hear that. I’m usually nicer to my employers.”

“They got you workin’ and flyin’ out on Christmas Eve,” Paige points out. “You should be meaner.”

You incline your head in a nod, huffing. “All of this for office potlucks and dental coverage,” you joke. “Don’t quit basketball.” Paige grins again and you’re suddenly reminded of your manners. “Sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself.” You do as such, only mildly surprised when she stands to shake your hand and introduces herself, too, which is honestly kind of endearing. Then, she plops into the empty seat next to yours, smiling widely.

“So, marketing consultant,” she says, her tone nonchalant as she gets comfortable next to you, extending her long legs across her suitcase. “How often will I get to see you?”

You glance at her, raising a wry eyebrow. “Are you flirting with me?” you ask.

Paige shrugs a shoulder, smirking. “A little. Is it working?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit. You can see the pride that shines in her eyes. You roll your eyes in amusement, still in slight disbelief, but you redirect back to her question. “Honestly, probably a lot. The league is super messy from a business perspective and their actual marketing sphere isn’t that great, either. As soon as you get drafted I’ll probably have to fly down to whichever poverty team you land at and teach them how to market you.”

“Yeah?” she asks, and despite the tease in her tone, she does seem interested. “How would you market me?”

“How much time do you have?”

“Well…” Paige glances down to her watch, then out the windows where snow falls in heavy sheets. “Looks like a lot.”

You snicker. “Alright. Bear with me, okay?” Paige nods in earnest, her attention fully on you as you begin to ramble. Truthfully, you did like your job when you were able to do it. The issue is and always will be the idiots you have to work with who overlook your credentials. “So, I’m not thinking about your personal brand at all. Like, that one’s already incredible. Your PR team did their big one with you. But the issue with athletes like you, wide-eyed and fresh out of college with an insane resume of endorsements, followers, deals, whatever – the issue is that whatever team you get drafted to is gonna want to rebuild their entire image around you. Think Clark, Brink, Reese, Jackson, Cardoso. It’s textbook – you advertise the person who’s gonna get you the most clicks, the most sales. So, how can we use that to actually grow the game, the league? I’m talking about longevity. There’s so many people tuning in for you that don’t know shit about basketball, and honestly, they’re gonna be scared to ask questions.

“So we push something corny. Social media segments with a catchy name like Ball With Bueckers or some shit where you break down basketball plays, rules, the stuff you’re gonna see and hear when you watch a game. What’s a pick and roll? A screen? Why is she getting fouled for blocking that shot, isn’t that what she’s supposed to do? Education, interest, loyalty, and competition sells. Stories sell, too, which is why the league is still trying to push the Clark/Reese rivalry. That’s old news, though. A more compelling story would have been the Fever/Sun rivalry, especially after the Sun beat the Fever and the Fever hired their coach. Or Fever/Wings, for reasons I’m not gonna ruin your night with.” Paige laughs at that, and you smile, clearing your throat and trying to find your train of thought. “So, when I’m undoubtedly called in to fix your team’s mess, that’s what I’d be suggesting. People already love you. Using that connection to get them to love ball, too, is my goal.”

“You’re really passionate about this,” Paige comments, her lips quirking into a slight smile. You can’t help but preen a little, flushing. “Like, about basketball. You really care about the sport. Feels like that’s harder to find lately.”

“Well, I was too short to play it, so gotta settle for something, right?” you joke.

Paige looks you up and down. You’re wearing sweatpants and a baggy sweatshirt from college, but her gaze is shameless, appreciative despite your casual airport wear. She chuckles, a disbelieving noise building in the back of her throat. “Nah. You’re what, 6’5?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Try a foot less. But I appreciate you for believing in me.”

Paige smiles, nudging you a little. “I was serious, though. You’re super passionate. I like that.”

“Still flirting?”

“S’not everyday you get snowed in at the airport with a pretty girl,” Paige says, her gaze warm, and you can’t help but blush again. “Gotta shoot my shot, you know?” She mimes throwing a ball, her wrist bent, and you shake your head fondly. Admittedly, she did have you – hook, line, and sinker. You enjoyed the conversation, her company. There were certainly worse people to be stuck with, but you’re glad it was with her.

You shrug your shoulders. “Shoot away,” you say. Her subsequent grin is wide and you find yourself drawn in just a little further.

She asks you virtually everything under the sun – where you grew up, where you went to college, the team you were rooting for, and you answer. You tell her you’re an Atlanta native, born and raised, although you moved up north to study at Columbia. You were 8 when the Dream was founded and that was your team, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. At 10, you watched them win the eastern conference finals on your birthday and that was easily the moment your life changed. Basketball was your future and that much was certain. She asks how you landed the league job (connections, a thick resume, and lots of persuading), how you adjusted to the constant traveling (lots of caffeine and really good concealer), and the hard-hitting question of, are you satisfied?

For that, you really had no answer. Sure, you’re always busy, and that’s better than the alternative of sitting in your office and watching the seconds tick by. You’re good at what you do and your job makes a positive impact on the league. Your colleagues will be who they are; your work speaks for itself and that’s what you pride yourself on. But there’s always going to be a small part of you that yearns for something more, like someone else to share your life with. Someone who sits, and listens, and engages with you; someone who loves basketball just as much as you do (even if it’s a different type of love), someone who’s steady and spontaneous and adaptable.

Then Paige is smiling at you, her gaze warm and soft despite the below freezing temperatures outside; she’s listening, and engaging, steady, spontaneous, adaptable, and probably the only person in the world whose love for basketball could rival your own. You’ve known Paige for all of three hours and it’s nearing midnight in an airport in Connecticut, but it’s Christmas Eve and she feels so right. You would really like to see where this goes, and judging by the way her fingertips brush your knuckles, you think she might like to see that, too.

The two of you talk all through the night, waiting for the weather to ease up. The conversation never slows and you’re certain you’ve never smiled or laughed this much in a long time. It takes you twelve hours of delirious conversation to realize that your luck never depleted. Paige was your overwhelming karma, sent by some sort of Christmas miracle to answer all of the wishes you’d kept to yourself for years. The stars aligned not to fuck you over, but to trap you in an airport with Paige Bueckers, and you find that she’s possibly the best Christmas gift you could have ever gotten.

When the weather finally clears and your plane arrives, you find that your seats are right next to each other – and, well, fate works in funny ways, doesn’t it? You’re both exhausted, but when she lowers the armrest and wraps her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into your side, you can’t help your relieved sigh, leaning into her chest. You and Paige sleep through the entire flight. You dream of soft blue eyes, the lingering scent of her cologne, the promise of how this could last.

You land in Minneapolis and you eventually have to go your separate ways. The two of you exchange numbers, saying your goodbyes, although Paige doesn’t let you get anymore than three feet away from her before she’s catching you by the wrist and pulling you into her. Her hands are cold against your cheeks as she kisses you gently, something deep and lingering and a confirmation that tastes like ‘you and I aren’t done here.’ The falling snow lands gently on your cheeks, melting under the heat of your blush, and you can’t help your smile, interrupting your kiss as the both of you dissolve into laughter. Paige kisses you again, something softer that leaves you feeling warm all over despite the chill, and you thank your Christmas miracle for leading you here.

[iannmin]

What kinks do you think San would have? <3

KINKS SAN WOULD HAVE ⁺₊❆⋆ 최산

🏷️ ⋆ smut, drabble, intentional lowercase, size kink, praise kink, breeding kink (serious), lingerie play, somnophilia, cum play (LOTS of cum)

🗒️ ⋆ RAHHHHHH WTF I’ve been wanting to write this SO BAD!!! thank you thank you so much for the opportunity skjdkskdksk i hope both sides of your pillow are nice and fluffy every time you sleep <3333 also i just couldn’t help but put the edit of long haired san hehe

୨୧ ‘ masterlist ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ ⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆ ⁺₊❅⋆

PRAISE KINK ⋆

no offence but sannie would be on the number one priority list for those who have praise kink. like can you see how he folds and gets absolutely all squishy and subby when wooyoung praises him? like his cheeks gets all flushed and hot,, he’ll probably desire the same with his s/o, whether it’s him giving or receiving. and to be honest san is more of a soft dom, so he’ll love reassurance. just imagine every time when he’s about to enter you he will most definitely whisper softly “you can take it baby, it’s gonna open up so well for me, your pussy’s gonna feel so good, hm?” (and I’ve noticed that san loves to say ‘hm?’ after his sentence a lot in his voice lives and it drives me absolutely crazy)

SIZE KINK ⋆

sannie is a total sucker for size differences and he absolutely builds his ego off of watching his s/o squirm under his huge frame. like just picture him headlocking his s/o from behind, broad chest sticking to his s/o’s back while just absolutely pounding the fuck out of them and whispering dirty things into their ear ughh. and do you remember that one fanmeeting clip of san’s back facing the audience and wooyoung is literally holding his neck attempting to kiss him??? he’ll probably look like that coming home to his s/o from a long day of work,, kissing them at the entrance as a ‘I’m home’ type of gesture. and also,, that’s probably why san hits the gym sososo much, it’s really just to assert dominance and feel big

BREEDING KINK ⋆

don’t even get me started with this once :,) like do you guys realise how traditional san is? like in terms of family and stuff he seemed to have grown up in a very traditional household where his father was strict on him and all that. like just look at how much respect he has for his parents and how well-mannered he is,, and especially do you remember when san mentioned that if he had a daughter he would raise her in a very princess way but if he had a son he would raise him like his father did in a strict way? so anyways,, the whole point I’m making is that san would probably want to start a family early with his s/o so that they can have cute little family outings together, and he can be a dad. so that’s where the feral breeding kink comes in. like he just goes absolutely bonkers the first time his s/o let’s him hit it raw after their marriage, or even better, when he learns that his s/o wants to try for a baby, so he makes sure to absolutely fill their cunt to the fullest, even going beyond his usual stamina of two rounds because for some reason he keeps getting hard after watching his white cum seep out of their hole and dripping onto their thighs :( P.S. he might even have a sex marathon with his s/o on the week their ovulating just to maximise his chances of becoming a dad

FINGERING ⋆

okay okay, I know sannie is a clean type of person and he doesn’t really like making a huge mess, especially when you see how clean and minimalistic his dorm room is but when it comes to his s/o, all morality just gets thrown off out the window. he goes pussy drunk and fingers them until they’re making an absolute mess. and I’ve seen some people commenting that he has chubby hands like cheese-stick fingers but won’t they feel so fucking good when their up in his s/o’s hole? i bet the stretch is a whole lot better with thick fingers like his and it’s definitely enough to get his s/o squirming and whimpering, even squirting.

SOMNOPHILIA ⋆

sannie treats women with so much respect and probably hates non-con stuff which is a great turn-off for him. but somnophilia? that’s his jam right there. the first time his s/o told him up front that they like being fucked awake no matter when, he was slightly hesitant, but he probably discovered a whole new world right there and then when he slid his dick into their unprepped cunt, the raw feeling being absolutely addictive. so even on days when his s/o looked absolutely unsexy, wearing a pair of kiddy-looking pajamas, he will still have a great urge to pull down those cartooned pants and fuck them. he just can’t get enough of the moment when their brows finally knit together and their eyes flutter open, raising their head from the pillow just to see him wrecking their pussy open, and that’s when all senses and feelings process in their brain and they start moaning and squealing.

LINGERIE ⋆

just a bonus kink here hehe,, and not to mention sannie is not the type to rip open the lingeries because he respects how expensive they are, but he’s more of the type to push their panties to the side and fuck them <3

[oracle-of-dream]

On the Job

Summary: Soobin’s been getting busier and busier with comeback preparations, tours, and more. Sometimes, you only have to be together while he’s actively working…

Notes: Male reader, Slight Exhibitionism, Idol! Soobin, Blowjob, Cum in Mouth, Deepthroating, 6th Member! Reader

Wordcount: 1.3k

“Soobie~ I’m here!” You cheered as you walked in the door. You knew the others would be out for a while and were more than excited to have the house to yourself.

Soobin ran out of his room to greet you, his large form overtook yours as he pulled you into his embrace. “Hey, babe! How was practice?”

You groaned. “It was so long… But the choreographer is keeping the others busy for a while. Which means…”

Soobin smiled, already knowing what you wanted from him. “Where do you wanna go?”

“Bathroom? I could use a shower.” You tugged on the edge of his shirt, “There’s room for two if someone wants to join me.”

“When have I ever refused to take a shower with you, especially one that sounds so promising?”

You and Soobin weren’t roommates; the members knew you were dating. They tried to respect your privacy as much as possible, but it was hard being in a door with four other guys and trying to have an active sex life. So if there were moments like these, you’d try not to use each other’s rooms unless it was unavoidable. The bathroom was the best place for you two to enjoy each other’s bodies without worrying about others seeing.

Rushing into your room, you tossed aside your bags and snatched up a change of clothes. Soobin was waiting for you in the bathroom. As soon as the door closed, you kissed him. His large hands cupped your ass, squeezing it firmly before lifting you onto the counter. He slotted himself between your hips, holding your waist as he pulled you close. His lips danced across yours. He tasted like mint, the cool freshness stung your eyes. 

“Mint?” You tilted your head.

“Toothpaste.” 

You raised your eyebrows. “Ah, of course.”

Just as you were about to slide off the counter and dive into the cost pressed against your thigh, Soobin’s phone went off. He scooped it out of his pocket and read a message.

“Fuck! I forgot the anniversary message for MOAs.”

You rolled your eyes. “Are you serious? Can’t you take yours after the shower?”

Soobin sighed as he pecked your lips. “No. I’ve still got my makeup on. If I wash it off, I’ll have to put more back on. I’ll be quick.”

You palmed his cock, making it jump. “But… what about this?”

“It’ll take a few minutes.”

You deflated into a pout. “Someone could come home by then…”

“Babe–”

“Just… take the photo above your waist. I’m getting it now.” You started pulling Soobin’s pants down, but he stopped you.

“We can’t take the photo in the bathroom!” You grunted in defiance. “Okay! I’ll let you suck it, but let’s just move to the living room. And then… I’ll get to have my way in the shower.”

You knew that Soobin meant to fuck you so hard you’d be louder than the shower but at this point, you weren’t thinking straight. You hadn’t had any action in weeks, and you weren’t going to let it slip away so easily.

“Fine. I get to suck now, and you can break my back later. Whatever!”

Soobin’s eyes softly widened as he realized how much of a sex fiend his boyfriend had become. You pulled off Soobin’s pants and he led you to the living room couch. The taller boy had a habit of taking a billion photos before selecting one to be posted. Maybe you’d get some of his orgasm if you were lucky. As soon as he sat down, you forced his legs apart.

“You’re seriously this thirsty?” He asked as he opened his camera, trying to find his angle. “Getting on your knees in the middle of the living room like it’s normal?” He talked down to you like that, meanwhile, Soobin’s dick was twitching and leaking before you even touched it. You rolled your eyes and started kissing his balls, pressing on them gently. Your hand wrapped around him and pumped so slowly, enough to earn a whine from him.

“Do it right.” He commanded. He moved his hips forward, needing both hands for the photo. 

You smirked as you opened wider to let his tip slide into your mouth. His cock was thick and pretty long too. You knew it would hurt every time you tried to take it, but the pain was more than worth it. You slipped a bit deeper but stayed above half of his cock. With hollowed cheeks, the pressure on his cock was just right.

Soobin was pent up too. His balls were heavy and he softly moaned at every motion as he tried to focus on his picture. Eventually, he stopped trying. A hand landed on your head.

He looked down at you as he set his phone down. “Fuck, I’m sorry…”

Before you could inquire about why, Soobin gripped your hair and pushed his length deep into your throat. You gagged at the suddenness and tried to pull back, but Soobin wouldn’t let you go. You looked up at him with an annoyed face, your eyes wet and irritated.

He chuckled. “I couldn’t help it… You’re so tight.”

You hummed as you bobbed your head, using your hand to try and cover the base that you couldn’t reach. You used your other hand to push the camera back to Soobin, encouraging him to take the photo.

“What a good boy,” He tapped on the screen a few times. You didn’t notice the smile on his face behind his phone, or that it was pointed at you. You pushed yourself deeper because of the encouragement. His tip brushed the back of your throat, making you flinch but you held it in. “Oh~ That’s it… You’re working so hard for me. I’m so proud of you.”

You poked his cock to one side of your mouth, letting your cheek protrude as it flexed to the shape pressing against it. You went back to deepthroating while using another hand to roll his balls between your fingers, making his head roll back. His legs started to tremble. He was getting close already… You relaxed your jaw and let Soobin have control. His hips came up to meet your face as he pushed your head down, fucking your throat. You let your hands stimulate you too. You deserved it for working so hard.

“F-Fuck–Cumming!” Soobin’s cock twitched in your mouth as he pressed you down on him, forcing you to swallow. His hips bucked weakly before he lost the energy to hold you in place anymore. You were so focused on swallowing until you saw a flash above you. You looked up to see Soobin holding his phone, camera pointed right at you.

“Oops… The camera was flipped.”

“Delete that!” You groaned, trying to take it from him.

He raised it higher than you could reach. “Please, let me keep it. Just this once!”

You sighed, knowing that you couldn’t match his height. You’d have to try and delete it when he wasn’t paying attention… 

“Fine. Whatever. I’m going to the bathroom, hurry and take your photo.” You stormed to the bathroom as Soobin went back to his picture. His cock was hard and dripped with a shiny glaze of your spit coating it.

After a few minutes of scrolling to Tiktok, waiting for Soobin to finish. You heard the front door open. There was silence, and then Soobin started yelling as the door slammed shut. Footsteps approached the door in a rush. Soobin entered the bathroom with cheeks redder than a tomato.

“What the hell happened?”

“Beomgyu came home… And he saw me. Taking the photo.”

You looked down to see his still-hard cock wilting. “Ahh, baby~ There’s no way you could’ve known. It’s okay…”

“He’s going to make fun of me! And tell the others!”

“Well, he didn’t see everything…” You smiled.

“That would’ve scared him.”

You kissed your boyfriend. “Well… I still haven’t finished yet. And, I know you can keep going.” 

Soobin smiled as his cock started growing back to life, poking at you again. “You’ll have to stay quiet.”

“Then just don’t do it too hard…”

[tinyluvs]

⁺‧₊˚ just the tip 𖤐 swiss&phantom ˚₊‧⁺

❥ summary; they get a taste for it and it’s no longer just the tip ❥ warnings; transmasc!phantom, cunt&clit used within the fic, they’re idiots for each other, swiss begs, phantom lets him, it’s all consensual, alludes to cockwarming right at the end??? idk ❥ authors note; i still don’t remember how to tag so if there’s anything i missed feel free to let me know :)) anyways enjoy !!!❥ wc; 2.2k ₊˚⊹♡⁺‧₊˚𖤐 read on ao3; ˗ˏˋ ꒰꒰ here !! ꒱꒱ ˎˊ˗ 𖤐˚₊.⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

phantom knows what swiss is doing, what he’s slowly building up to, there’s no subtlety in his movements whatsoever. pushing up onto his elbows, phantom looks down between his thighs, mesmerised by the way swiss pushes the fat head of his cock up and down his cunt tortuously slow

“fuck swiss,” phantom whines high as he tilts his head back, jaw slack, lashes kissing his cheeks, blissed out. swiss hums, his gaze fixed on phantom’s hole clenching around nothing, dripping a steady stream of slick that swiss is quick to drag his cock through, further soaking his already wet head

they’ve been going at this for god only knows how long, phantom’s hips aching from the way his thighs are spread and pushed back, one of swiss’ large hands pressing down so hard phantom is sure he will have a hand shaped bruise on the back of his thigh for days to come

swiss sits back and rolls his hips forwards, nudging phantom’s little dick with the tip of his cock. both of their groans echo off the walls, as does the sticky wet sound the movement makes, “s-shit bug,” swiss groans and squeezes around the base of his cock, extinguishing the fire low in his belly, only slightly but it’ll do for now

phantom’s arms buckle, his back flopping down against his mattress. the slight bounce his body makes as it collides forces swiss’ tip to catch on his hole, “no, o-oh, swiss,” phantom whimpers, his hand shooting down to shove at swiss’ hip

a thick blurt of pre spurts from swiss’ cock, almost going to waste as it nearly drips onto the sheets but swiss swipes it up, hissing at the sensitivity of his ruddy head, almost flushed purple at this point. he plays with his mess, pressing his thumb and finger together and then pulling them apart slowly, strings of pre keeping them connected

“prettiest little dick i’ve ever seen,” swiss hums low, his voice like honey as he slots his slicked up fingers either side of phantom’s fat clit. phantom’s back arches something filthy, sheets sticking to his back with the way he’s starting to sweat. he shudders through a whimper, the same devastating reaction he has every time swiss praises his dick

swiss pinches at his dick lightly before sliding his fingers back and forth, a single stroke that makes phantom pant, something akin to a dog, though swiss is no better off, his cock kicking in the space between them, hanging between his legs pathetically hard and leaking

phantom’s fingers sink into his sides, gripping and grabbing and trying to pull, “fucking kiss me, please, swiss, kis-” his whimpered beg gets cut off as swiss leans over him, licking quickly at his bottom lip before open mouthed kissing him

in any other situation, it would be considered a bad kiss, a clang of fangs, swiss’ heated breath fanning over phantom’s mouth every time he pants, phantom’s tongue lolling out of his mouth, lapping at anything he can touch, swiss’ lips, fangs, even his cheek at one point, but right now, it’s what they both need, whether it can be considered a kiss or not

the pillow underneath phantom’s head rustles when he tilts his head back, mouth open, tongue out, his mind swimming too much to even partake in the kisses he asked for. swiss chuckles quietly, to himself, before letting his lips explore, a messy trail of spit and wet kisses being splattered down phantom’s neck

blunt nails rake down swiss chest, catching slightly on one of his nipples but they don’t stop, continuing lower and lower until phantom is thumbing at his slit, “bug,” swiss warns but his body betrays him, hips jerking and shoving his cock into phantom’s hand

“what?” phantom quips, dripping with innocence even though it’s terribly fake. swiss nips at his neck for his tone, worrying thin skin between his teeth, riding the very thin line between pain and pleasure, “oh, f-fuck, ah-, swiss,” phantom pants, winding his free hand into swiss’ hair to pull, not hard enough to unlatch swiss from his neck though

swiss licks and then kisses the blooming purple mark he’s leaving behind as he pulls back, holding his weight on his elbows, hovering over phantom, caging his body against the bed, “what?” swiss mocks with a smirk, leaning down to barely brush his lips against phantom’s, pulling away quickly when phantom tries to chase his kiss

phantom’s eyes roll lazily as he presses the tips of his fingers to swiss’ tip, nestling it right up under his clit, “move, do something, please,” phantom asks breathlessly, both ghouls looking down into the space between their bodies in anticipation and then, slowly, swiss pushes forward

neither ghoul stays staring down for long, both of their heads tipping back, synced groans rumbling from their chests as swiss pulls back and then pushes forward again, bullying his cock against phantom’s stiff dick, “f-fuck, that feels s’good,” phantom whispers, mouth hanging open, his eyes blinking up at swiss wetly

“yeah, yeah, fuckin’ does,” swiss growls, his hips speeding up, falling into a rhythm that makes phantom feel dizzy, a never ending stream of whimpers pour from his mouth when swiss looks down at him and holds his eye contact, the blush that fans over phantom’s cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed by swiss

the multi ghoul dips to press a kiss right on phantom’s cheekbones, one on each side before capturing phantom’s lips in a kiss, pulling away after just a second to brush side to side but phantom tilts his chin up, pouts and half whines, half hums and swiss can’t deny him, prepared to kiss him until the breath in his lungs runs out, as long as that’s what phantom wants

the whole situation becomes messy, swiss’ cock throbs and pulses, spitting pre over phantom’s cunt with every wet slide, aided by the slick practically pouring from phantom’s hole, something they can hear when phantom clenches around nothing, a vulgar wet sound that swiss wants to hear, needs to hear, for the rest of his life

spit bubbles at phantoms lips, spilling and running down his chin while he struggles to keep up with the way swiss is kissing him. phantom is sweating properly now, his dark hair starting to stick at his forehead and the hairs at the base of his neck starting to curl with the heat. his fingers sink into swiss’ shoulder, claws pricking and drawing blood to the surface

“more, fuck-ing need more,” phantom hiccups when swiss gives him a moment to breath, his lungs expanding, chest pressing to swiss’ with it, “swiss, oh fuck, please please please,” he cries, frantic and overwhelmed, his pulse hammering in his ears

swiss slows his hips against phantom’s whiny protest, “okay baby, what d’ya need?” he asks gently, pressing his lips to phantom’s sweaty hairline, a soothing movement that he thinks phantom needs, “gonna let me put it in?” swiss mumbles, pulling his hips back enough for his tip to slide down phantom’s cunt, resting against his hot little hole

phantom nods…and then shakes his head, “y-you can’t, we can’t, what if i, you,” he rambles, a sorry state of affairs but swiss doesn’t tease him about it, his lips peppering kisses over purple freckles at phantom’s temple

“just the tip?” swiss suggests, hopeful. his point driven home by his cock pressing forwards, prodding at phantom’s cunt, an centimetre more and he’d be pushing in. swiss pulls back to look at phantom, who is gone, heavy eyelids half shut, mouth hung open in a silent moan

the suggestion makes phantom’s hole clench, kissing swiss’ tip with a sticky sound, a filthy mix of slick and pre pooling just inside him, threatening to spill out at any second, “just the tip,” phantom repeats, barely a whisper but swiss nods his head and well, that’s that

swiss sucks in a breath, fills his cheeks with it before sinking his fangs into his lip as he humps his hips forwards, just rubbing his cock against phantom’s hole, “you’re so fuckin’ wet bug, fuck,” he groans and phantom keens, his back arching further away from the mattress as swiss pushes in, stretching him open just so, just enough for swiss’ fat head to pop into him

phantom’s warmth envelopes him, surrounds the little bit of his cock pushed inside with a searing heat, almost fire ghoul hot if swiss really thinks about it. swiss pulls back, his cock slipping free of phantom’s clutch but then he’s pushing straight back in, unable to keep himself away now that he’s got a taste for it

holding his weight on one arm, swiss reaches down between them to gently nudge at phantom’s cock, his fingertips barely ghosting it but phantom’s overly sensitive, his cock pulses and his cunt clenches and in turn, swiss sinks further into him, an inch at most past the tip

“bug, oh fuck,” swiss growls, his eyes widening and then clamping shut, “you’re so fu- ah, fucking tight, practically sucking me in,”

phantom moans loudly as swiss rambles, every nerve ending in both of their bodies burning. he wants to tell swiss to pull back, to tell him, just the tip, but he can’t bring himself to do it, being split completely open on swiss cock just feels too fucking good

“tell me to stop,” swiss hisses and grinds his teeth, his head hanging to watch his cock disappearing into phantom, coming out shiny with slick, “phantom, tell me to stop,” he all but begs, words punching out of his lungs with desperation

“no, shi-t, oh, don’t stop,” phantom moans, fingers pulling at swiss’ hips and swiss growls, body rumbling, vibrating off the walls as he sinks into phantom in one thrust, his heavy balls slapping against phantom, “fuck me, just fuck me,”

and swiss does, setting a brutal rhythm immediately, little ah, ah, ah’s, leaving phantom every time swiss’ cock nudges against that spot deep inside of him on every thrust. swiss breaks him open, splits him open and then puts him back together over and over again

swiss, for a lack of better words, plays with phantom's cock, doesn’t stroke or pinch at it but just plays with it, soaking wet fingers drawing phantom’s orgasm closer, “you’re so fuckin’ good for me,” swiss groans, “so fucking good,”

there’s nothing phantom can do, nothing he wants to do, he surrenders and submits fully to swiss, letting him take. thick strings of pre and slick connect their bodies, a lewd wet slap ringing in phantom’s ears everytime swiss surges forward and fills him to the brim

“m’close, fuck swiss,” phantom whines and scrambles for purchase, raking red lines across swiss’ back. luckily for phantom, swiss is also close, his cock throbbing deep inside of him, the thick veins on his cock dragging just right, “shit, pull out,”

swiss gasps, too close to tumbling over the edge and taking phantom with him, “baby i can’t, please, don't make me, i can’t,” swiss begs, shaking his head, “you feel so fucking good, oh fuck, please lemme stay in, please-,” he trails off into a high whine that scratches in his throat

phantom’s stomach burns, a coil inside of him wound so tightly it almost hurts, “jus’ cum, in me,” phantom gasps and then cries, teetering on the edge of what he needs, “inside, fuck, please just make me cum,”

with a harsh pinch to his clit, the coil inside of phantom snaps and unravels, he sobs and shudders, his chest heaving as he clamps down hard on swiss, “fu-fuck,” he manages to cry, his cunt clenching impossibly tight and that does it for swiss

somewhere deep inside phantom, swiss’ cock starts to squirt while the multi ghoul shouts, every single one of his muscles freezing as he cants his hips, grinding his cock into phantom and phantom’s little cock off of his pelvis, both of them riding out a high that doesn’t seem to be ending, swiss cock spitting wave after wave of thick cum

“lucifer,” swiss whimpers when he can catch his breath, his head hanging and resting against phantom’s sternum, “did s’good,” he mumbles, kissing in the centre of phantom’s chest

both ghouls breathe, the room around them hot and humid, their bodies sticky in multiple ways. eventually swiss moves, ready to pull out, his cock starting to soften, completely spent and milked dry. phantom winces as he goes, scrambling to keep him close, “no!, stay, don’t go, not yet,”

“bug,” swiss warns, his tone soothing and gentle, his fingers pushing phantom’s sweaty hair off of his forehead before moving down, tickling just behind phantom’s ear

phantom leans into swiss’ hand, “i know, jus’ need it,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut. his thighs close in on swiss’ side as he starts to roll them onto their sides, pressed together, chest to chest, phantom’s head nuzzling under swiss’ chin, a gentle purr rumbling from his throat, “just for a little while,”

“just for a little while,” swiss sighs around a yawn and if their earlier promise of just the tip is anything to go by, it’ll be more than a little while before they move

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! & comment! i’ll give you a kiss if you do, mwah! send prompts to my ask box!

𖤐 ghouls masterlist

[whimsicalpolitical]

a request if I may… matty getting mad talking to someone on the phone and girlie is just watching him like😵‍💫😵‍💫 and he takes his frustration out on her😁

content warning: 18+ mdni, smut, p in v, dirty talk, spanking,

this has been going on for a while now: matty walking back and forth through the room and getting more frustrated by the phone call.

“fucking christ,” matty says gritting his teeth, “what’s your fucking damage?”

you’re sitting at the edge of the bed, done with your nightly routine and only waiting for your pacing boyfriend now.

sleep is the last thing on your mind though.

twenty minutes torture. matty’s little rage act makes your thighs ache because you’ve been clenching them together the second he started to cuss and swear.

“that’s not what i’ve been saying bro, fucking listen.”

your eyes stay on the veins on his forearm when he’s running his hand through his hair, letting a groan slip out of his mouth.

you bite your lip watching him, feeling your panties dampen as his conversation continues.

“you can fuck off with that.”

you inhale sharply and matty hears. he thinks you’re annoyed because you wanted to go to sleep right before his phone rang.

he walks towards you and cups your cheek as he mouths a ‘sorry’.

“actually, i’ve got better things to do, mate. calm down, roll yourself a spliff and chill out, will do you good, i reckon.”

matty is still standing in front of you, so close to touch, to do anything you want to do to him. your hands sneak around his body to his back over his soft shirt.

“nah, have a nice one, i will not fucking continue this conversation. jesus, yeah, you too.”

matty slides his phone into his back pocket, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. the tension in his jaw doesn’t ease even as he exhales sharply, muttering something about “fucking tosser.”

“i’ve been a right twat tonight,” he says, his voice softer now, almost contrite. the furrow in his brow lingers, though, like he’s still half-lost in whatever argument just happened over the phone. “sorry it took so long.”

you swallow hard, suddenly hyperaware of how close he is. the space between you is barely there, his knees brushing yours where you’re perched on the edge of the bed. his t-shirt clings to him in all the right ways, the faint sheen of sweat on his skin catching the light, and you can’t help but let your eyes wander.

you watch him for a moment, taking in the way his shoulders are still tight, his hands shoved into his pockets. he’s not looking at you directly, not yet, but the way his chest rises and falls in short bursts tells you he’s still got all that anger simmering under the surface.

“it’s alright,” you say softly, shaking your head. “but do you want to talk about it?”

his lips press into a thin line, and he tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling for a moment like he’s hoping it’ll swallow him whole. “no,” he says finally, voice flat. “you wanted to go to bed, yeah? you must be knackered now.”

you frown, your head tilting. “i’m not, though.”

he glances down at you then, his brow furrowing like he doesn’t quite believe you. “you should be,” he mutters.

you shake your head again, slower this time. “you should talk about it,” you murmur, reaching out to rest your hands on his forearms. your fingers skim over his skin, and his muscles twitch beneath your touch. “it’ll help. get it out of your head, and then maybe you won’t feel so mad.”

he snorts, shaking his head, his eyes darting away from yours. “what’s the point? won’t change anything. and, anyway, you shouldn’t have to deal with me when i’m like this.”

“i don’t mind,” you say, your voice gentle. your thumbs rub small circles against his arms, coaxing him to relax even just a little. “besides, it’s better than letting it fester. you’ll just drive yourself mental.”

he doesn���t respond right away, his gaze dropping to where your hands rest on him. his jaw tightens again, like he’s still debating it, still trying to work through it on his own. but you can feel the way his tension hasn’t eased, the way he’s holding himself so rigid, and you slide your hands up slowly, tracing over his chest now.

“or,” you say, your voice quieter, almost testing, “you could find another way to let it out.”

his eyes snap to yours at that, narrowing slightly. “what’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, his tone sharp, defensive, like he’s daring you to say it.

your fingers spread out against his chest, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart under your palm. “it means,” you say slowly, your gaze not wavering from his, “you could do something to relieve that anger.”

his brow lifts slightly, and for a second, he just stares at you, his expression unreadable. and then he scoffs, shaking his head like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “are you serious?”

“what?” you ask softly, your voice even, steady.

“were you—” he starts, breaking off with a disbelieving laugh before leaning in closer, his eyes narrowing. “were you getting off on that? me losing my shit?”

your face flushes hot, but you don’t pull your hands away. instead, your fingers curl into his shirt, gripping it lightly as you hold his gaze.

“not like that,” you say quickly, though your voice wavers just enough to make him raise an eyebrow.

“not like that,” he repeats, his tone skeptical. his hands come down to rest on your thighs, his grip firm but not harsh, and he leans in closer, his eyes searching yours. “go on, then. explain it to me.”

you swallow hard, your pulse quickening as his thumb brushes over your cheek. “matty, don’t—”

“don’t what?” he cuts you off. “don’t call you out on it? don’t notice the way you’ve been watching me like you want to devour me. i saw, love. the way you clenched your thighs together.”

you open your mouth to retort, but the words die on your tongue when his lips brush against your neck, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin. his hands slide up your thighs, his fingers curling against the fabric of your sleep shorts.

“that’s dirty. thought you’re being a nice girl and you want to talk,” he scoffs, “instead you just want to be fucked.”

your eyes roll to the back of your head as he continues kissing your neck and his hands wandering to your upper thighs.

“fuck, you’re warm,” he murmurs, his voice rough in your ear. “and so bloody worked up, is this what my little tantrum does to you?”

you let out a soft whimper, your hands gripping his shirt to ground yourself. “matty…”

“say it,” he demands, pulling back just enough to look at you. his pupils are blown, and his chest rises and falls heavily. “say you like it when I’m like this.”

you hesitate for a moment, but the way his hands tighten on your thighs has you caving. “i like it,” you admit in a shaky whisper. “i like it when you’re… like this.”

“knew it,” he mutters before capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

the kiss is all-consuming, a perfect mix of frustration and desire. his hands wander freely now, sliding under your shirt to grip your waist. you gasp against his mouth when his teeth graze your bottom lip, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours.

when he pulls back he shakes his head, “you want me to be rough?”

“yes,” you breathe out as fast as possible.

“christ. alright. lay down, get on the bed.”

you nod and scoot backwards, your eyes fixated on matty, who’s already pulling his shirt over his head.

he looks divine. black jeans with a belt and no shirt, his tattoos on full display for you drives you insane. you squirm a bit, waiting for his next move.

he’s taking your feet into his hand, rubbing your skin softly.

“darling, i need you to be absolutely sure and if you don’t fuck with anything i do, you need to tell me.”

“i swear, matty,” you say, offering him a warm smile.

“perfect.”

you watch his face as he carefully and slowly grabs at the fabric of your sleeping shorts, pulling them all the way down.

“gonna let me do what i want to you then?”

“yes.”

his hands find your hips, he's sliding down the bed, just enough so his head is level with your middle, he dips his head down and presses his lips to the soft flesh, his teeth sink into your skin, sending a shiver down your spine, you involuntarily let out a soft moan.

he grips your hips more firmly, almost like you'll disappear before him if he doesn't, he moves his lips to your other hip and nips at your skin, "my fucking gorgeous girl, absolutely filthy for me," he says lowly, his breath hot against your skinz

you whimper softly as both of your hands find the nape of his neck. his mouth moves to the soft swell of your tummy and he nips at the supple skin right above your belly button.

he pulls away and peers up at you, eyes dark and full of lust, his mouth hovers over yours, "you drive me mental, you know that, love?" he whispers fervently against your lips, his fingers squeezing the meat of your thighs.

“i'm pretty crazy about you too, matty," you whisper, his cheeks flush pink at your words, still so bashful. he kisses the heel of your palm before patting the side of your thigh, "turn around for me darling, go on, all fours, need to see all of you," he smirks, his eyes full of intensity as they drag down your body.

you do as he asks and move to the middle of the bed, flipping onto your knees and walking your hands out in front of you, arching your back slightly and hiking your up ass in front of him, he moans at the sight.

"just like that," he praises softly behind you and your pussy throbs, a familiar sticky heat pools in your panties at his words. you playtully take a glance back at him, his eyes dark and half-lidded as he sits up and moves to his knees behind you, his hands run up the backs of your thighs all the way up until they meet the globe of your ass.

"look at you, so fuckin' perfect," he murmurs, oggling the curve of your ass as his index finger sneaks under the lace trim of your panties, taking the material between his forefinger and his thumb and lightly skimming his fingers down the lace, "jesus.”

matty scoffs, “s’kind of pathetic. drenching your little panties because i’m angry.”

his fingers roam down to your covered slit and you let out a soft gasp, which only spurs him on, he runs his fingers along the wet spot on your panties, smirking when he feels the wetness staining your panties, the tips of his fingers dip below your clothed slit,

"that’s my girl though, right? always so fuckin' wet for me.”

it should embarrass you, how easy you are for him but it doesn't because it's matty and knowing how much he revels in this, in you makes that small pinch of embarrassment fade away instantly...every single time.

you risk a look at him over your shoulder as he pulls his finger back out and in one swift movement he puts his finger between his lips, quickly sucking your arousal off his finger, like it's a mindless, habitual thing for him.

his hands reach for the waistband sitting on your hips, pulling the lacy fabric down, marveling at the dark fabric against your skin as he slowly drags the material down your thighs, his eyes catch the wetness soaking the lace while he pulls them down and he moans shamelessly.

“such a pretty cunt, darling.”

your eyes widen while you watch him bunch up the material and shove the lace in his back pocket and then his hand lands an affectionate smack to your ass, "eyes forward, i won’t say it again."

you tear your eyes away as he brings a firm hand to the small of your back, pressing you down and deepening the arch to his liking, you instinctively drop to your forearms- so pliant and needy for him-he brings his mouth down and sinks his teeth into the lush of your ass in approval.

“fucking christ,” he groans behind you, “you’re so easy. gonna let me do what i want to you just because you’re needy, pathetic.”

his hands grab your inner thighs, spreading your legs, now he has full sight of your glistening core, two thick fingers stroke through your folds.

"you’re a mess, darling, look at that- you’re dripping down your legs.”

his words make your cunt throb, you can't help the whine you let out, "matty, please."

matty laughs, “you’re a fucking beg. what do you want?”

"i need you, please do anything, please," you mewl, not caring how pathetic you sound.

but still, not enough for matty. a loud wet smack fills the room as he lays a firm slap to your cunt, your body flinches forward, the edges of your vision blurs and your aching, swollen cunt tingles and clenches at the harsh, yet welcomed contact.

he tuts, "that’s it? you need to try better than that, love. beg for it.”

"matty please, i want your cock. i want it," you whine and writhe beneath his firm palm.

"see? s’all i’ve wanted to hear," he cooes, his slick-coated fingers now soothing your folds. “wouldn’t be fun though if we already skipped to the best part, would it?”

he shifts behind you, sliding down off the bed, kneeling on the floor, he pulls you back towards the edge of the bed by your thighs. he tilts his head up just enough to dig his teeth into the meat of your upper thigh, just below the curve of your ass cheek and soothes the sting with a wet kiss.

you shiver, you're aching for him and his mouth is everywhere except for where you need him to be.

“stop writhing around like a needy slut,” he spits out, “you don’t want me to stop immediately, right?”

“no, no, sorry.” you plead, closing your eyes.

matty’s hands come up to grab the meat of your ass, spreading you open and gently pushing you forward for better access, he brings his mouth to hungrily kiss your inner thighs, tasting the sweet, sticky slick coating your skin and a pitiful moan slips from your lips.

“mhm, perfect.”

matty seems to have heard it and that's all it takes for his lips to make contact with your pussy, your breath hitches in your throat as he flattens his tongue and licks a long, slow swipe through your slicked folds, the first one always drawn out and meticulous and just for him.

“oh f-fuck.” you moan.

a pressure already begins to pull taut low in your belly, you're squirming in his grasp but his hands move to firmly grip your outer thighs, keeping you open for him and pressed flush against his eager mouth. he fucking laves at you, devouring and savouring you like he'd never get the chance again.

“such a perfect one, yeah. my favorite taste.”

the vibrations from occasional muffled moans and groans against your pussy make you chant his name over and over like a prayer, even though he's the one on his knees.

“jesus matty," you moan out, your eyes roll back into your head as the coil inside your belly wounds up so tight every muscle in your body tenses. you start grinding your hips back into his face, he groans in response and loosens his grip on your legs, letting you take what you need from him.

it takes a moment to come down from your high, matty not being a help at all with the same pace he has on your clit.

he flattens his tongue against your clit before he closes his lips around it, suckling it into his mouth and moaning around it, the vibrations from his mouth makes the coil in your belly snap, and you cry out, using the sheets beneath you to stifle the noises slipping through your lips.

“fucking god,” you moan, “matty- can’t.”

matty hums a “you can,” and immediately latches on again.

the tip of his tongue works small, tight circles on your clit around and around, only this time with more pressure than before and within minutes or seconds-you don't really know at this point-you feel the pressure building in your belly and it's growing stronger by every lick and suck from his mouth. his tongue flicks over your clit before he licks it into his mouth once more, closing his lips tightly, he gives it one last tight circle of his tongue and suckle to your clit and you break, your second orgasm crashes over you.

“matty,” you moan over and over again, your brain completely empty with thoughts.

a choked moan escapes you, your legs quiver as they threaten to close while your hands fist the sheets beside your head, the grip he has on your thighs holds you open for him while you come all over his mouth and he laps you up, savoring, slurping, and swallowing down everything you give him.

“fucks sake,” he groans, “perfect cunt.”

milliseconds pass and he shifts behind you, lost in the haze of your orgasm, you can faintly hear ruffling as he stands up. he leans forward, kneading your ass in his palms before bending down to lay another bite on your other cheek, this time with more fervor, leaving a mark, your skin tingles.

matty’s hand is on him, stroking himself slowly, while his other hand is touching your body.

“just a little toy for me, aren’t you, darling?” he asks, not expecting an answer, “gonna let me fuck you?”

matty positions himself right against your ass and places his hands on your hips again and squeezes, “talk to me.”

"not like this,” you whine, not daring to look back, “wanna see you.”

“aww,” matty pouts, “you’ve got too many wishes, you know?”

nevertheless he grips your thighs and turns you around so you’re on your back. you’re eyes are staring at him but it seems like you’re not there, your brain feels hazy.

“you’re alright, love,” matty says, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

you can only whine and grip the nape of his neck to receive a proper kiss.

“needy girl,” he murmurs, leaning down to give you a kiss, licking over your bottom lip before tugging it between his teeth.

your sounds are swallowed by his mouth as he keeps kissing you, grinding himself against your thigh.

“can-please,” you whine, stretching your arm out to find his cock, which is already leaking with pre cum.

matty lets out a quiet groan, you can't help but smile at this as you start to rub him between your legs, grabbing his attention back onto the task at hand.

“didn’t say you could touch me, love,” he grits out, “s’like you can’t get enough.”

“i can’t,” you smile, tugging at his hair, “can you please fuck me.”

you’re desperate. how could you not be with matty between your legs, right there.

matty slides inside of you roughly, not slow and steady, not giving you any time to adjust, he’s using you.

“fuck, this what you wanted?” he asks as his eyelids flutter closed.

he’s got one of your thighs in his grasp and he's pushing it up against your ribs as he begins a steady pace with his hips against yours. there’s strings of your slick attached to his upper thighs from your inner legs rubbing against him.

matty notices immediately, “fucking christ, you’re making such a mess, s’heavenly.”

“matty,” you moan, “you- s’perfect.”

“yeah?”

matty brings his right hand back down to continue flicking your clit back and forth with his wet fingers.

you bite down on his shoulder. your propped up foot thuds softly against his back as the other one grips onto the sheets.

"feel nice?" matty asks into your hair as you bite down onto him, “fucking enjoy yourself?”

“feel so perfect," you whine against him. "jesus, so good,” you slur.

his weight is pushing you down so you can't wiggle away from any of the stimulation he's giving you. it accumulates quickly and, just laying there and taking it, you don't get enough time to warn him you're close.

you’re clenching around him uncontrollably, rolling your eyes back and clawing your nails into his shoulder blades.

“let me have it, come on,” he groans, rutting into you as deep as before, “come for me.”

he fucks you harder, his pace frantic. "such a perfect cunt, darling." he groans, dipping his head into your neck to nip at your skin. “my gorgeous girl."

"oh, god, matty..." you cry, your orgasm quickly approaching, unable to stop it no matter how much you want to prolong the feeling.

it doesn't take long before your orgasm crashes over you, pulsing through you in waves, back arching off the bed as you reach out for anything to ground yourself. hands finding the back of his head, pulling him into your chest.

“just like that, perfect, darling.”

he follows soon after, his cock pulsing inside you as he empties himself into you, collapsing on top of you, his chest heaving.

“fuck,” he exhales, moving one more slow time again to torture the both of you.

you’re overstimulated, your legs hurting so good there are tears prickling in your eyes. you brush your hands over matty’s shoulders and back, humming as you try to love on him.

“you still angry?” you ask, smiling to yourself.

matty groans when he lifts his head to look at you, stealing a quick kiss, “nah. unless you want me to be,” he jokes.

“give me a break,” you giggle.

“i love you, darling,” he murmurs, sliding out of you, hissing at the cold air.

you scrunch up your nose in pain, your ass, thighs and the skin between your legs hurting real good.

“i’ll draw you a bath, don’t worry, love.”

you enjoy this the most. matty being the sweet boy you’ve known forever, his only mission to take care of you.

[rememberwren]

Pianist! Reader ft. Ghost "what the fuck is that infernal racket" (it's Reader practising Rimsy-Korsakoff) and Soap "play Flower of Scotland!!! Play Scotland the Brave!!!!!!" and Gaz "I have good fingers, can you teach me"

The only one who behaves is Price and that's because he's busy trying to find reader to fuck them on top of the bloody piano. Yes yes, he'll pay for another if it breaks or something

I just made a post the other day about Simon’s hand size vs. Johnny’s but the piano is so hand-focused (and I’m such a slut for hands) it’s hard not to think of it.

I see this piano being in a bar, and while playing it usually isn’t in your job description, everyone including the owner knows you’ve got the training to put on a little show during slow nights or special occasions (like that year there was a snowstorm on Christmas Eve and you made a grown man cry with your rendition of O Holy Night).

The 141 are the only newcomers in the bar, and the night is incredibly slow. You play one little tune as you pass the piano, pecking at the keys with a single finger, and it’s enough to attract their attention.

Johnny and Kyle crowd around the piano flirting obscenely with you (almost as much as they’re flirting with each other). They ask you to play something, so you do. Half the time your eyes are on the keys but the other half of the time they’re watching the large man who’s refused to leave the booth, the mask over his mouth doing nothing to disguise the way he’s watching your hands.

“Can you teach me?” Kyle asks, leaning against the piano lightly. “I’ve been told I have very good hands.”

You ignore that for the bait it is and shift over. “Depends. What’s your hand span?”

“My what?” he asks, laughing, sitting on the bench beside you.

“Your hand span! From your thumb to your pinky, how far can you reach on the piano.” You demonstrate, dextrous enough to span a ninth. Genetics keep you from reaching any further. It doesn’t bother you; Chopin could only reach a ninth after all.

Kyle’s hands can stretch to a tenth. Johnny insists on having his turn next, and the both of them begin arguing over whose hands are larger and more dextrous. They might as well have their dicks out, you think, rolling your eyes.

You stand and get back to your duties, leaving them to you with the piano a while longer. You’re busy pouring drinks when a sound rings out that catches your attention, clear as a bell over the quiet din of the bar. Your head snaps to the piano.

The man in the mask stands there—fingers easily spanning a twelfth.

Your mouth goes dry, imaging the size difference if you were to hold your hands up palm to palm. Satisfied, he turns away from the piano and accidentally catches your eye. He raises both his brows once in a jaunty little motion before sitting back down at the booth with his friends, something about his slumped posture registering as distinctly smug.

Rightfully so. You’re scrambling for a napkin to write your number on, that note still ringing in your ears.

[rainebelowzero]

May I request an abduction-play story? :3 (sorry I didn't know how to word this x3)

Kurt Kunkle X Dom Male Reader

notes: sorry this took so long :') anyways, I think this is the last request I had in my inbox and I have lots of time on my hands so please request stuff, also I love all of you guys, I've seen so many people that have been around since the beginning in my notifications so I wanna thank you guys for sticking around and also welcome the new people, I plan to be way more active so don't worry, I won't disappear again😋

cws: kidnapping, having sex on stream, roleplay (technically), the reader is mentioned to be an influencer but it's up to you if that's real or just part of the roleplay, using spit as lube (i know that's cringeworthy in real life but lets just pretend its an acceptable replacement for lube in this)

‘What the fuck?’ You think, your eyes opening hazily. You're….in some room, but not one you recognize. Your head hurts, and you can't even remember where you were before this. You were leaving a party one of your influencer friends was having, but other than that, you couldn't remember what happened.

You look around and realize you're tied to a chair, and you try to yank your arms back but they refuse to budge, making you wince at how tight the rope is. You huff, leaning back in the chair, trying to examine your surroundings and figure out what to do next.

Suddenly, a man comes into the room, a crazed look in his eyes despite his calm demeanor as he stares at you, holding his phone. You squint up at him.

“I wasn't expecting y-you to be awake yet.” He says with a small laugh. “Do you…remember anything?”

You don't even really want to talk to him, but knowing it's probably the only way to get out of this, you do so begrudgingly.

“...no.”

Kurt frowns, almost like a kicked puppy. “But..you said you would give me a shout out, you can’t- you don't r-remember any of that?” He asks disappointedly, his voice whiny and kind of annoying to you.

But something else he said…you said you would give him a shout out? It makes you remember what happened better. He was your weird Spree driver that you got on your way home. He made the conversation super awkward when he brought up your following and kept asking to collab, so you agreed to give him a shout out just so he would leave you alone. You drank out of a water bottle and then…you woke up here.

You glare at him.

“You're that fucking freak from the rideshare, aren't you? What the fuck is wrong with you?” You ask, once again pulling at the rope.

Kurt frowns again, moving a little bit closer.

“There's no need for insults." He says softly.

“This is seriously pathetic, you expect me to, what, just tell people to follow you? Maybe make better content, dude.” You say with a bitter laugh.

He looks genuinely hurt by what you said, and for some reason it briefly makes you feel bad, though that feeling instantly goes away. It makes you realize that he might be easy to manipulate. You could work with that.

“H-hey, I work hard on my content! And I’ve- I have a lot of fans.” He replies defensively. You put on a fake guilty expression.

“You're right,” Saying that makes you cringe, but you continue. “I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry. But I can't get into my phone if I'm tied up.”

You can see him considering letting you out, but then he grins and leans forward, pulling your phone out of your pocket.

“That's okay, I can do it myself.” He joyfully holds up the phone to unlock it with the face ID, but he frowns again when you start shutting your eyes and moving your head to stop him from unlocking it.

He grabs the back of your head, trying to force you to stay still to unlock the phone. You wince and glare even harder at him before turning your head and spitting at him, hitting him in the face. He steps back, shocked with wide eyes as he loses his grip on your hair. You swear you can see his face flush as he wipes it off, suddenly very fidgety. You squint, watching him as he avoids eye contact with you, his hand holding the phone slack at his side.

“Were you fucking into that?” You ask. This man is a freak. Little does he know, there isn't a person alive you can't outfreak.

You finally see a way to get untied, and you slide forward a little bit, spreading your legs as you stare at the man.

“Your name is Kurt, right?” You ask, lifting your leg and nudging him with your shoe, trying to get him to come closer. He does, hesitantly. He nods at your question, glancing down at your lap and then back at your face.

You're slightly uncomfortable with the silence, but it seemed like it was going to work, so you kept going with it. “Well, Kurt…I could give you something way better than views.”

He shakes his head. “There isn't really a-anything better.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “Fine, I'll….I don't know, give you a way to get views if you untie me.” He seems more interested after you say that. He gets closer, reaching behind you and untying the rope, and you rub your wrists because of the pain of the rope digging into you. You glance back up at Kurt, and pull him into your lap. He looks surprised, for some reason even though you were pretty obvious with your intentions.

One of your hands grabs hold of his waist while the other slides down, taking your phone out of his hand. You can feel and see his growing erection, his face flushed as he stares down at you.

“You want to be famous, right?” You ask. He nods, looking pretty pathetic, which makes a feeling of warmth shoot down to your dick. You open your streaming app and go live, pointing the camera towards Kurt’s face. It makes his clothed cock twitch, and you gently nudge him to get off of you. He does, and he gets on his knees as you shove your pants down. Nestled in between your legs, face resting on your thigh, you continue to record as the viewers slowly trickle in, the chat confused about what's happening or commenting on the man in front of you.

Kurt slowly lifts a hand, pulling your semi-hard cock out of your boxers, visibly drooling when he sees it. He looks up at you and the camera as if asking for permission, and you give him a little nod, burying your free hand in his hair. He starts to move his hand slowly, watching it twitch and grow harder before hesitantly pressing his lips to the tip.

“Look at the camera, Kurt.” You say, and his eyes lock on the phone as he licks and sucks at the head of your cock.

You start to push his head down, and he enthusiastically takes more of you into his mouth, even when he starts to gag. You pull his head back up and then push him back down, and he lets you, completely giving up control of the situation almost immediately. His eyes never leave the phone, and you take a glance at the amount of viewers.

“200 people here so far.” You tell Kurt. He lets out a muffled moan, his eyes starting to tear up as he continues to let you manipulate his movements, bobbing his head up and down. You start to get rougher, making him take you down to the base before pulling him back up for air, and then shoving him back down, drool dripping down his chin.

He gags almost every time you shove him back down, but that only turns you one more, your cock slick with his spit. You pull his head up again, watching the tears run down his cheeks.

“Tell ‘em your channel, Kurt.” You urge him as he gasps for breath.

“K- Kurtsworld- Kurtsworld96 on e-everything.” He responds shakily, still staring at the camera. You push him back down without any warning, thrusting in and out of his throat.

“If you guys wanna see more of this cockslut, go follow him.” You say teasingly as the sounds of him choking and gagging on your cock fill the background. He whines around you, and you can tell even the thought of him getting more followers because of this was turning him on even more.

You force his head back up, saliva connecting the tip of your cock and his lips as he looks ruined, spit and tears running down his face. You slap your dick against his face a few times and he moans softly, staring up at you and your phone, the amount of viewers climbing higher and higher as you make sure you give them a good view of his face. His phone goes off a few times across the room, and he whines again as you push him back a little bit and stand up. You move the chair and gesture for him to lay down on the floor, which he does instantly. You kneel between his legs, roughly getting his pants and underwear off, his cock throbbing as it's exposed to the cold air.

You press yours against his, wrapping your free hand around both of them as you make sure you're still filming. You jerk the both of you off, making Kurt squirm and moan, his cock practically leaking. The size difference between you and Kurt makes the pool of heat in your stomach even warmer. You take your hand away, gesturing for Kurt to turn over. It takes him a second to register, but he does, and you use your free hand to lift his hips, getting him into the position you want. His ass presses against your hips, your cock against his hole.

You realize you don't have any lube on hand, so you move back a little bit and spit down onto his hole, making him whimper. You do the same for your hand, wrapping it around your cock and pumping it a few times, using that and your precum to make yourself slick enough.

You move the phone so that you're holding it directly in front of you, letting them watch as you rub the tip of your cock against Kurt’s tight hole, thrusting against it a few times and hearing his soft moans. He wiggles his hips a little bit, trying to get you to speed up, so you start to push yourself into him. He gasps, moaning as you get a little less than half way in. His hands are desperately trying to grab onto something, and you groan as his walls squeeze tight around you.

His hole greedily sucks you in, and once you're fully in, you roll your hips a little bit, making him whine. You start to thrust in and out of him, gripping his waist tightly. He pushes his hips back, fucking himself back onto you the best he could, letting out loud moans and whimpers. You were a little surprised he was that vocal, but you weren't complaining at all. His legs shake, his forehead pressed against the floor. The people in the chat are saying all kinds of things about Kurt as the view count gets higher.

You reach forward, slipping two of your fingers into his mouth. He starts sucking immediately, moaning around them as his tongue laps at them hungrily. You pull them back out, swiping the saliva you collected against his hole to keep it slick enough to keep going. His cock throbs again, rubbing against the floor, which can't be comfortable, but he seems to not mind, clenching tightly around you. You groan again, squeezing his ass and pulling him back into you at a quicker pace.

His moans and whines get louder, more high pitched and you can feel he's getting closer. You bury your hand in his hair, pulling his head up and holding the phone in front of him, turning the camera around so he can see himself and the amount of people currently watching. He moans loudly, his eyes rolling back as he cums. He shoots his load against the floor underneath him, clamping down tight around you. It makes you feel your own release approaching, and you bury yourself deep inside of him, causing him to whimper from the oversensitivity as you dump your seed into him, thoroughly stuffing the man who had kidnapped you.

He falls fully onto the ground, panting heavily as you pull out and end the stream, Kurt laying there shaking, and you, completely satisfied.

BONUS

You wipe sweat from your forehead as you catch your own breath, and after a little bit, Kurt turns and sits up, his used hole leaking your cum. Your demeanor changes and you gently run a hand down his arm.

“Did I do good?” He asks, exhausted.

You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You did. Just don't tie the rope as tight next time, that really hurt.” You say, putting your phone down, rubbing at the soreness in your wrist as Kurt nods, getting comfortable against your chest.

[joudama]

And that’s that for Veilguard. Got all the achievements and got the four main possible endings (didn’t bother with the bad ending where you do none of the side quests, everyone dies, and you end up trapped in the Fade forever with Solas).

My four Rooks:

Female Shadow Dragon elf mage - saved Minrathous - romanced Harding - punched Solas in the face

Female Antivan Crow human rogue - saved Treviso - romanced Lucanis - tricked Solas into using the fake dagger

Male Grey Warden dwarf warrior (this was originally going be a Qunari, but I couldn’t get over the yassified look of all the qunari I tried to make and I gave up) - saved Treviso - romanced Davrin (meant to romance Bellara and lol welp, that didn’t happen) - big softie who sent Solas into the Fade with the Inquisitor

Male Mourn Watch elf mage - saved Minrathous - romanced Emmrich (meant to romance Bellara or Neve and lol welp, that didn’t happen) - told the Inquisitor she could do better and made Solas go off into the Fade alone.

My Mourn Watch one is probably going to be my “canon” run, since I liked it the best (that’s not saying much) of my runs. I went with a life leeching run for him, including using the unique items that made health potions/companion heals not work, and beefed up leeching. Literally the only time I died was when my controller ran out of juice in the middle of a dragon fight. The Elgar’nan fight was over so fast I was like, “Wait, is that it?” It was like the curb stomp fight in Inquisition with Corypheus before they let you have enemies scale up with you.

And now for my thoughts. And oh boy, do I have a lot of them. Hoo.

I have…so many issues with this game. It is a very good…whatever the gaming equivalent of a popcorn flick is. It’s great if you go in with your brain turned off and enjoy all the shiny. But that’s not what I want in a Dragon Age game. I’ve been replaying DA2 - the game that DATV is basically trying to channel - while playing these, and the difference in writing quality and intricacy of plot and world building could not be more sharp. The first time I played DATV, I thought it was fine. Almost aggressively fine. I had fun with streaming the game and seeing where it went. I loved the reveals with the wolf statues. I had some major issues with the writing being as subtle as a brick to the face at times (more on my thoughts about the dialogue LATER, because oh boy), but it was serviceable. And I genuinely thought Veilguard had been robbed by not being nominated for Art Direction at the Game Awards, because say what you will, the areas are fucking gorgeous. But, even then, I was like, “Yeah, this would not have deserved a GOTY nomination had it gotten one,” and placed it at a 7 or 8 out of 10. A good enough, enjoyable game that ran well, but was not by any means GOTY material.

Then I made the mistake of playing it again, and the cracks began to show. By the time I hit the middle of Act 2 of my third run, I was just so done. I hated every time certain companions had anything to say at all. I hated that you couldn’t call people out for being a jerk but had to be the supportive nursery school teacher at all times to them. And for the first time playing any BioWare game at all, I found myself wishing I could either not recruit certain people or kick them out of camp. The cracks were beyond showing at that point, and I no longer thought the writing was even “serviceable.” Things that hadn’t seemed so bad on that first popcorn flick run suddenly became a problem - not being able to actually talk to your companions to get to know them went from “it feels more natural to have them saying this stuff while out in the field” to “what is even the point of going around the Lighthouse if all it gets me is a line spoken at me or overhearing bits of them having ACTUAL conversations?” It legitimately hurt replayability. I missed being able to actually talk to my companions, and I realized I cared more about Manfred and Assan than most of my companions because Manfred and Assan actually seemed to like interacting with me. I will take Manfred’s rock-paper-scissors game over a “hey Rook” and dead-eyed stare.

By the time I hit late act 2, I couldn’t wait for it to be over so I could delete the damn game off my hard drive…only for the last achievement I had yet to get to NOT pop when I finished the game. I looked it up and discovered it wasn’t set by triggering a certain end state, but was tied to picking some flowers in Act 2, and wanted to cry. I don’t usually 100% games, especially if I feel like some of the achievements are bullshit I don’t want to do (‘sup, MELE needing you to do some Armax Arena Spectre-level fight - I would sooner chew off my own arm than do that, as anyone who watched me stream Veilguard would have guessed watching me kvetching the whole time I was doing that Hall of Valor shit), but that was just frustrating. I decided to try to get it on a fresh run as a Mourn Watcher, since I’d heard that was one of the surprisingly good faction backgrounds, and that was a good choice. Mourn Watch became my favorite faction, when it had been Shadow Dragons until then. It added so much to a lot more conversations than I would have thought, and made it so I actually enjoyed the sadly few times you get to actually have conversations instead of eavesdropping/being talked at. I’m glad I decided to slog through one more time for that achievement, because if I’d ended it on that third run, I know I would have never played it again. It turned back into a popcorn movie again, aided by me knowing when to put on a YouTube video and watch or scroll through Bluesky instead of listening to a certain character be the fucking worst. If I ever play again, it’ll be a Mourn Watcher (I already know the Veil Jumpers and Lords of Fortune are considered, shall we say, lackluster background factions.)

Which brings me to some of the big, fundamental problems this game had.

This is not a CRPG. It’s just not. It’s an action RPG now, with the focus on “action” not “RPG.” It’s part of the whole Mass Effect-ification of Dragon Age. And I say this as a huge Mass Effect fan:

Dragon Age should not be like Mass Effect. And vice versa.

When Andromeda came out, they decided to ditch the Paragon/Renegade system, and instead went for DAI-style emotion-based options. Which seems great! More speech choices to make a more nuanced Ryder instead of picking up or down! Great! Only no! A lot of people hated it because it didn’t feel like Mass Effect. They had taken away something that had seemed like a major part of how you roll played in the series, and replaced it something very different. It was the first time they took a mechanic from one game and ported it into another, and it didn’t really go over well with a lot of ME fans because it didn’t feel like a Mass Effect mechanic.

And now with Veilguard, they basically made a Mass Effect game with a Dragon Age skin on it. And it just doesn’t work.

Combat: They copied the combat wheel from Mass Effect, but did it kind of badly. I honestly hated it because I tried to play like I do in Mass Effect - pull it up, use it to look around and get a handle on my environment, then pick an enemy or a safe space to bolt to - and the camera snapping the enemies meant I couldn’t. It drove me crazy because it was like the Mass Effect wheel but fundamentally not, and the camera drove me mad because I’d pull it up trying to find where the nearest blight boil was, and it would snap on enemies instead of just letting me look. It’s like they wanted to get rid of every little bit of tactical game play and replace with smashy smashy bang bang instead. Don’t think, don’t plan, just attack…which fits in with the popcorn flick-ness of DATV. Don’t think, just do. Turn your brain off and look at the particle effects.

Another Mass Effect-ification with regards to combat is dropping from taking 3 companions to 2. Which you need to do to have that Mass Effect style combat wheel, and the Mass Effect 3/Andromeda style primer/detonation style interaction of companion powers. Detonations were very satisfying, but not very Dragon Age-y, and requires throwing out some of that DA lore to make it work, because now everyone uses magic-based abilities even if they aren’t mages. Assan attacks deal fire damage. You can spec a warrior who calls up a giant lightning hammer to twirl around, and…how? That’s not enchantment, that’s plain ol’ magic, and how?! Warriors didn’t deal magic-based attacks unless their weapons where enchanted before, but now, everyone is just tossing magic attacks at everything. That’s not how the world of Thedas has worked until now, but you can’t have those flashy explosions or particle effects otherwise, so shhh, turn off your brain and don’t think, shhh. Look at the screen light up and the pretty lights. It worked in Mass Effect because they had already set up tech and biotic attacks, but there’s no way to make hitting something hard with a sword cause it to blow up and damage all the other baddies around them, so now everyone has magic. OK.

As an aside, it was also a really bad idea of get rid of how aggro worked. Dragon Age had always worked by warriors drawing aggro because they had the heavier armor (or could use taunt on enemies targeting squishy mages or rogues). Rogues had lower aggro because they had lighter armor, and could sneak. Mages had even lower aggro because they had the lightest armor and were distance fighters. DATV threw that out the window, and Rook draws all aggro because they are the only ones with a health bar. Your squad is immortal in fights, which means there’s no reason for enemies to ever target them. Which means god help you early game when mages and rogues have no real skills yet. Enjoy dodging while your companions hit the enemies with what seems like attacks as powerful as spitballs. It also means that there are times what the game tells you and the fight you just did are completely at odds. Remember that fight with the Wrath of the Stone in Harding’s companion quest? That thing is on your ass the entire time, but then at the end of it, Rook says something along the lines of “It really hates Harding,” and…are you gaslighting me, game? That thing ignored Harding the whole damn time in favor of trying to stomp me like a cockroach. Harding did not exist to it during my fight. It had a hate boner for Rook and Rook alone, no matter what the game tried to insist on after.

Now, imagine how that would have felt if Harding actually could have been killed/knocked out during the fight, and it was only going after her? What if you couldn’t damage it if it took her down, so you had to make sure she stayed alive? Imagine how different that fight would have hit then? But no, that would mean the devs have to think about how to rez characters and how healing would work, and would mean players have to be tactical, and shh, no, no more of that, no thinking, just dodge and hit things and look at the particle effects. Shh. Have some more popcorn.

Story: DATV wants so badly to be ME2. It wants to recall the companion loyalty quests and the big suicide mission where you have to have everyone ready or you’ll all die. But you can’t copy what you did before and get the same flowers and results. You just can’t. You can try, and all you’ll get is diminishing returns. They tried to do the big cosmic horror of ME1, complete with a Virmire choice, then have the big final stakes of ME2, and no. You can’t follow a template and get the same greatness. That’s not how it works.

And speaking of following templates…

Romances: The romances in Veilguard are just dismal. And I think it’s because they decided to follow the Mass Effect pacing formula instead of the Dragon Age one.

Dragon Age: You start flirting in Act 1. You usually flirt with everyone because hey, why not? Some time in Act 2, things start getting serious, and you have to settle on who you want to go for. Things start to get serious, you get together, and then you get happy fun adult time with your new LI. You get the option to break it off or commit to them fully. By Act 3, you’re in a committed relationship. People comment about it. You can go to them and spend time with them - nothing major, maybe just a kiss. There might also be a special scene that’s just with them and unique to the romance. And by the end, after the lengthy amount of time that’s passed, you are Together.

Mass Effect: You start flirting in Act 1. You usually flirt with everyone because hey, why not? In Act 2, you keep on flirting with everyone. By the end, you might have to make a choice if you’re flirting too hard with everyone and the two LI options tell you to pick someone already, but you’re just picking who you’re interested in. Early in Act 3, there might be an almost kiss, but it’s mostly just the occasional anticipation of eventually boning and nothing really happens until right before the final big fight, when your LI shows up to your cabin for “oh shit, we might die in a few hours, so let’s go out with a high note” happy fun adult time. The only time you get that “committed relationship” vibes is in ME3 if you’re romanced the same character for at least one other game, and you choose to continue the relationship.

The Mass Effect pacing works in the Mass Effect trilogy because each game is only 20-40 hours long. Veilguard is a good 80 hours long. That means using that same amount of romance you use in ME is going to mean you’ve got too little butter to spread over too much bread. It’s why you have a good start for the romances in Act 1, then act 2 is a such a desert of nothing after you commit that I genuinely wondered if I’d hit the wrong option at said no at several points during the very long third act. There’s not just enough content for that long of an Act 2. Near the end everyone starts commenting on you being with them, but it’s not actually happening in the game. There’s no flirting, there are no extra scenes, and even the scene when you commit to them is based on a scene that happens with everyone, just with a romance option tacked on. The only person (of the ones I romanced, so I can’t speak to the others) who really get unique scenes was Emmerich. He actually takes you out on a unique date. It helped a lot to make Emmerich’s romance feel more fleshed out than the others. And Davrin had so many little jaunts out in the woods that those turned into romantic trips out, which added a lot to his. But Lucanis’ and Hardings? With both of them, like I said before, I genuinely wondered if I had accidentally opted out. Their romances most used the Mass Effect format, and it just doesn’t work for a game this long. BioWare knew that once, long ago, because Andromeda did not use the ME trilogy format for romances and was closer to one they used in DA. But DATV is trying to be ME2, so they used ME2’s very thin romances as a guide.

And we can all see how well that turned out.

The Executors: Fuck me, they feel like Cerberus reskinned, and I absolutely hated when Mass Effect shifted from sci-fi/Lovecraftian horror to space opera with Cerberus as the main bad guys you have to fight with the Reapers functionally falling to the background. The Executors are a secret, shadowy organization pulling strings from behind the scenes like the Shadow Broker codexes in ME2 retconned Cerberus into having been doing in ME. Ugh.

The Andromeda-ification of dialogue: Remember Peebee? Remember how she talked? Give her long hair and pointy ears, and she’s Bellara. Down even to the techno-babble. It’s like they’re trying to change magic to just “sufficiently advanced technology.” Everyone speaks in that modern, quippy style that was annoying in a game set hundreds of years in the future because it felt dated by the time the game came out (Ryder makes a Frozen joke, y’all). And it feels completely out of place in a game set in an early modern setting (I don’t think DA is medieval, honestly - it’s more a pre-industrialization/early scientific revoltution setting, so more 1500-1700s, and I’m gonna stop now). It was jarring. You can only let one quirky character break the rules about how people talk (Alistair in DAO, Varric in DA2, Cole in DAI) but when everyone does, it’s jarring. You can be anachronistic, but you have to know what you’re doing and how to do it when you do, and I’m sorry, but the current crop of BioWare writers don’t. They wrote the dialogue like it was a modern day YA novel, not a Dragon Age game. It would have been fine for a modern day urban fantasy game. It was not fine for a DA game set in the same time period as people using the four humours for “modern” medicine (remember the surgeon in DAI? Talked about the four humours? Yeah.)

OK, I did not intend to go on for this long, and I haven’t even gotten to what the game did to how religion is handled or the sociopolitical aspects of Thedas, and how they threw out so much that made Dragon Age unique in their urge to do a soft reboot, so I’m just going to end it here. I wanted to love this game, and I can only do that if I turn my brain off, and that’s not what Dragon Age should be.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Quiet On The Couch (18+)

2007!Michelangelo x reader

A/N: I feel like I’ve been hit with a little bit of a writer’s block this Christmas, so I decided to write this quick little thing, in order to get the ideas flowing again. Hope you’ll enjoy🧡

All characters are aged up.

Warnings: Sex on the couch (public?), minor talk about getting caught, turtle anatomy, implied second round.

“Not so loud, Honey Cakes”, Mikey said, his hands still firmly placed on your hips as he bounced you up and down on his lap, watching you through hooded eyes with a small smirk. Your heated cheeks and your hair already in a mess, mixed with the scent of your arousal in the air, causing Mikey to restrian, in order not to go harder. “Can’t let the others hear us, can we?”

You shot a quick look up to the railing on the second level, where Mikey’s brothers’ rooms were laid out one by one. It wouldn’t take much noise for them to realize what you and Mikey were doing on the couch, even if you tried to drown your sounds with the television that now played a long forgotten movie behind your naked back. If one of them were to walk out to check on the two of you, they would be met by the sight of your naked form, bouncing up and down on Mikey’s member, with your clothes scattered around the room, showing just how much fun Mikey had had, while stripping you down.

“Try you to stay quiet while having your brains fucked out”, you whisper yelled in a joking manner at your boyfriend in orange, fighting the moan in the back of your throat from escaping, your fingers digging into the upper lip of Mikey’s shell. “It’s really hard to stay quiet”.

“I know, babe”, Mikey groaned, moving one of his hands from your hip to your naked chest, massaging your right breast in the palm of his hand, watching with much joy as you bit back your moan. “You feel so good around me, I can feel my brain turn to mush. Fuck, you’re amazing”.

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, giving Mikey’s shoulder a small slap, causing Mikey to try and hide his smile from you. The hand on your breast went back down to your hip, before wrapping around your midsection, pulling you closer against him, your naked chest pressed against Mikey’s hard plastron. You let out a small giggle as Mikey got more comfortable beneath you. You had a feeling as to where this would be going.

“Can you be even more amazing and show me how to keep quiet?”, Mikey asked, the hand still on your ass stroking your flesh with smooth motions.

You wrapped your arms tightly around Mikey’s shoulders, before hiding your face against the crock of his neck, getting comfortable over Mikey.

“Show me what you got”, you said, the smile in your voice thick, as you braced yourself for what was to come.

You heard Mikey chuckle above you, before tigething his hold around you once more, making it possible for him to move you up and down at a much greater speed than before. You pressed your face further against Mikey’s skin, trying to hide the whine of pleasure that flew from your mouth. Mikey let out a low groan, taking in a sharp breath and throwing his head back against the couch, closing his eyes as he took in the tightening feeling of you around him. Your feel, your scent, your sound. It was enough to make him feel dizzy, the growing feeling of pleasure pushing from just beyond his cloaca.

You were fighting with everything you had to stay quiet, trying your absolute best to muffle your moans against Mikey. But the sound of your skin smacking together, along with the creaking from the couch, was not helping you much. But you tried. You and Mikey really tried. But with the strong feelings building up inside of the two of you, it was really hard, with just a matter of time before it would bobble over the edge.

Like predicted, you and Mikey came not long after, holding onto each other with your lips locked in a deep kiss, your tongues dancing with one another, feeling and enjoying your high as it flowed through you.

Once your highs subsided, Mikey broke from the kiss, looking at you with strong love in his eyes, holding your face in front of him as a bright smile broke out on his lips.

“How would you feel about moving this into my bedroom?”, Mikey asked, gesturing towards your still intertwined bodies.

“For what?”, you asked in a teasing manner, biting your bottom lip.

“You know exactly what”, Mikey said, giving your butt a small smack, as a sign for you to get moving.

—

The next morning, Mikey’s three brothers woke up, finding that you and Mikey were still fast asleep inside his room. However, instead of enjoying themselves, getting comfortable on the couch to watch the morning news, the three brothers stood around, all staring at the couch like it had grown two heads.

“I’m not sitting there!”, Raph said, pointing directly at the couch. “No way I’m sitting there after what I heard!”

“We’re not sure what he heard”, Leo said trying to calm down his brother. “None of us checked, so we actually have no idea what they were doing”.

“If you think so, then you wouldn’t mind taking a seat, would you?”, Donnie asked, lifting an eyebrow muscle at his oldest brother.

“Ew! No way!”, Leo exclaimed, jumping back in fear, from just the thought of sitting on the couch.

“Thought so”, Donnie said, before making his way towards the metal stairs, leading up to the four bedrooms. “I’ll wake up Mikey and (Y/N), and tell them to clean the couch”.

“Make sure they’re dressed first!”, Raph called after him.

[oldementurnmeon]

Cam Girl Next Door

A/N: Hi everyone! thank you for the positive feedback! I am very grateful that you guys liked my first writing piece! This will be my first smut writing so please leave notes so i can improve myself! Might be so errors!!

warnings- Masturbation, dirty talk, degradation, praise, pet names, usage of ‘daddy’

WC: (4.6k)

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Right after Y/n sent that message, she got a wave a excitement and nervousness. I mean she’s never done one on one calls with anyone for her work. She thought to herself, “What would I even wear tonight..? I’ll have to go shopping for new lingerie sets.” As her class went on she was preoccupied with the fact she was going to be calling a complete stranger. What if he was those perverted trolls? Those jerks who like to troll sex workers and waste their time. Of course Y/n has had a number of her own internet trolls, but she tried to ignore them. Before she closed her laptop after class ended, she got a 200 dollar transfer to her bank account. The money was from Crossbowdaddy and he left a note, “For two hours sweetheart, I’ll see you later tonight.” She smiled before closing her laptop.

After her class, she was going to head straight to the mall to get some new lingerie just for tonight. “Maybe I should get a sexy costume..” She spoke aloud to herself. Something that caught her eye while driving. A fancy sex shop, “Cupid’s Arrow”. She decided to pull over at the store and take a look. She was welcomed by many displays of lingerie and sexy costumes. She saw stripper heels, pasties, and her favorite toys. She began to browse the aisles, trying to find the perfect set for tonight. She ended up picking out a hot pink babydoll dress, a black lacy two piece, and a light pink slip dress. She went to the fitting room to try on all three and send each picture to Crossbowdaddy. She ended up getting the babydoll dress but in baby pink.

The moment she got home she began to get ready for her.. ‘date’ if that what she should call it. By the time she finished getting ready it was already 11, she was extremely nervous. What if he wasn’t going to join the call? She drowned those that negative thought away with an aphrodisiac chocolate to help her get more aroused. She opened up her computer and awaited for the upcoming call request. Her heart practically sank to her ass when she saw the Skype request. She made sure her face was out of frame but her body was front and center before answering the call.

“Hi, you must be Crossbowdaddy” She tried to hide the shakiness in her voice, by making herself sound more seductive. The man on her computer screen also hid his face and was only showing off his tattoos. He finally spoke up with a deep and hoarse voice, “Hey baby, I’ve been so excited about this call.” She smiled, god his voice was so attractive she thought. “I bought this dress just for our call.” She got up to show off her body in the little dress. Teasing him with her slow and desirable movements. He let out a strained groan. “Fuck babygirl.. You’re killin’ me.” She got on her chair slowly pulling up the short dress to reveal a matching pink thong. She couldn’t help but feel the heat from between her legs. Sitting back in her seat spreading her legs to reveal the damp patch on her clothed pussy. “Do you like what you see daddy? Does my pussy make your cock hard?” Daryl began to slowly fist his hard cock in his hand making sure it was in frame for me. “Look how hard you made me baby. Just from your little strip-tease. Such a naughty little slut.” She pulled the thin pair of underwear to the side to expose her bare pussy. She slowly pushed her slender into her sopping pussy, mewing at her arousal. Daryl let out a grunt. “Jesus you’re so fucking beautiful.. Such a filthy girl. Fuck- keep goin’.” She slowly fucked herself, pushing her fingers in and out of her. She was practically oozing from her pussy. She cried out, “It feels so good daddy- Shit.. I can barely handle it.” She sped up her movement causing her to buck her hips back into her own fingers. Daryl scoffs at her. “Look how pathetic you are slut. Can’t even handle your own pussy. You probably couldn’t even handle this cock.” He growled as thrusts up into his fist. She quickly began to tremble as her toyed with her clit. Her pathetic whines and cries spilled out of her mouth as she finger fucked herself. “Fuck I’m going to cum- Can I please cum daddy? Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” She wailed trying her best not to come to her high so fast. Daryl groaned slowing down his jerking motion as he was too coming close to the end. “Go ahead sweetheart make a goddamn mess all over.” Her entire body shook as she came all over her fingers. Daryl gave a strained moan and his warm cum spurted from his pink tip. Her body was calming down from her high. “You are probably the first man to make myself cum so- quick.” Daryl chuckled, “Maybe we can do this again sweetheart.” Y/n spoke up again, “I would actually love to do this again with you. Goodnight daddy.”

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I’m sorry this one took so long. But I hope everyone liked it! Please leave feedback and thank you for all the positive comments!

[sunsherbet]

Insomniac

In which spencer reid offers to help you with your sleeping troubles.

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

CW: incorrect depictions of insomnia i think, post!prison spencer, aka freaky/confident spencer, praise, fastburn, fingering, not beta read

A smooth string of steaming water pours from the Keurig and you dunk a lavender tea bag into the clay mug. The water pulls the bag deeper into the mug like exhaustion pulling at your heavy eyelids. You press your palms into your eyes and let out a sob-like sigh in frustration.

It must’ve been the fourth time this week that no matter how hard you tossed and turned, sleep simply wouldn’t come.

The Keurig lets out a low whirr and you move your tea onto the island. You lean against the granite countertop and sip the warm liquid, dunking the teabag a few times for good measure.

Lavender tea was your newest attempt at curing your insomnia. Last night there was white noise and the night before was a weighted blanket- neither offering any meaningful relief. Your days have been a blur of restless naps and excessive caffeine, both efforts falling short in battling the relentless fog of sleep that clings to your mind.

By the time you reach the bottom of the mug, it’s clear—the tea has done nothing to increase your melatonin. You’re no more tired than before.

In your sleep deprivation and anger at another failed attempt you launch your mug into the wall. It shatters upon impact and you slide down the length of the counter in exasperation. Ever since you had moved to Washington DC, sleep had been a struggle. Maybe it was the bright lights and constant buzz of the city or maybe it was simply that feeling of homesickness you’d found nestled in the basin of your stomach since you moved away from home.

The sudden knock at the door breaks your thoughts, and you get up on shaky legs to answer it.

The clock above the stove reads 2:45 A.M. and you distantly wonder who could be at your door during this hour. Despite your exhaustion, you manage to gather enough sense to peek through the peephole. A man stands there, his floppy brown curls spilling just under his ears. He’s got gold wire glasses sitting at the edge of his nose. He wears a short-sleeve white shirt, light grey sweatpants, and brown bunny slippers. Those bring the first smile to your face all night.

Deciding a man in bunny slippers probably isn’t a murderer, you unlatch the door and crack it open just enough for you to slip into the hallway.

“Hi, is there something I can help you with?” You ask, trying to subtly adjust your Kohl’s pajama set.

“I sure hope so,” He gives a boyish smile and you feel something squeeze your heart. “I heard something shatter through the shared wall and wanted to make sure you were ok?”

Shit.

Of course, you’d woken him up, you threw a mug at the wall.

Seemingly sensing your distress he rubs a hand against his neck and says, “I was up anyway so don’t worry about waking me up or anything. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

And of course, he’s the sweetest man ever.

Maybe it’s because it’s late and you're tired or maybe it’s because his smile is so warm it makes your cheeks heat but you can’t seem to lie, “Honestly? I threw a mug at the wall because I tried drinking lavender tea because the stupid internet told me it’d help me sleep but it didn’t and now I’m in the same situation I’ve been in for the last few weeks where I can’t seem to fall asleep for the life of me. I was irritated and mad and upset and I’m exhausted but can’t sleep and so no I’m not okay.”

You finish your tirade with a long inhale and peek at his reaction through squinted eyes. He’s looking at you from under those stupidly attractive glasses and you feel your legs clench involuntarily.

Fuck. Now, you’re tired and turned on.

“You’ve been having trouble sleeping?”

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t mean to go off like that. I think the lack of sleep is making me a bit loopy.”

Spencer shakes his head, “Did you know 12% of adults in America have insomnia?”

“Do you have a stat for how many of them chuck purple mugs at their wall because of it?”

He seems to mull over this for a bit before leaning in and saying conspiratorially, “No, but I may have something that can help you get some sleep. You know, before all your mugs are gone.”

There’s a glint in his eyes that makes your heart flutter and before you know it, you’re nodding and opening your door further.

You hear his footsteps as you walk into your apartment and when you turn to close the door he’s so close you feel his breath on your skin.

Spencer swallows and your eyes trail the motion. The moment feels oddly intimate so you whisper your question, “So, what did you have in mind.”

“It’s been shown that when sex involves orgasm, it can help people fall asleep. Following sexual climax, the body releases hormones, such as oxytocin and prolactin, that promote feelings of satisfaction and happiness. At the same time, the production of cortisol — a hormone that induces alertness and excitement — decreases following orgasm. This combination of hormonal processes makes people feel tired and ready for sleep.”

Your mouth goes slack and you feel a familiar shiver of arousal. It’s almost concerning how attractive you find his knowledge of something as trivial as cortisol production. “Are you suggesting we have sex?”

He seems at least a bit flustered at your bluntness and gets rosey. He nods, “I hope you don’t find this rude, I just know what it’s like to have trouble sleeping and I found sexual stimulation profoundly helpful.” When you don’t respond he backs up, “I should go-”

With a rise of your toes, you’re gripping the collar of his sleep shirt and slamming your lips together. Spencer steadies you with a hand on your waist and gently guides you to the door. He tastes like coffee and toothpaste and he smells like cinnamon. Everything about him envelopes you so wholly that you have no choice but to surrender to it. His lips latch onto your neck and he alternates between soft kisses and gentle sucking.

You throw your head back but instead of making contact with the wall, you feel one hand shoot out to cradle it as his other drags your leg around his waist.

“You sure you wanna do this pretty girl?” He murmurs against your collarbone.

Nodding you helplessly roll your hips against his as you say, “Yes, please.”

He grins, “Well since you’re being so polite.”

Between his fluffy words and soft kisses, you’re fuzzy on when or how but you end up lying against the couch with his leg slotted between your thighs.

Spencer’s fingers trail against the hem of your sleep shorts and with a desperate nod of consent you lift your hips so he can pull them off you.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do baby, I’m gonna help you cum as many times as it takes for you to feel tired. Are you okay with that?” Spencer asks, allowing featherlight touches between the crease of your legs.

You start to nod but he shakes his head, “Words please.”

You whine and let your head thump against the plush sage sofa. You’re almost boiling with need and you feel a wet patch growing on your cotton panties.“Yes, Yes I’m okay with that.”

Before you know it Spencer is sliding your underwear to the side and slipping a finger up and down your slit. He drags some wetness from your center and uses it as lube to circle your clit. You let out a soft moan at the feeling, feeling your thighs tremble.

“Shh, I know baby but we can’t have you waking up the other neighbors like you did me now can we?” Circling your clit with one hand he uses his other to pinch at the peaks of your nipples through the thin material of your shirt.

Maybe it’s because of his deliberate and strong strokes or maybe it’s because you’re exhausted and this is the only semblance of peace you’ve had in days but you find your release within moments of him touching you.

The next morning you wake up from the first restful sleep in days and a pleasant soreness in your legs.

[made-my-peace-with-all-the-bad]

Ok I’ve written up a full soda angst yap! :D (guys I can not be left alone with my notes app because this got long and sad way too fast)

Sodapop Curtis who continues to watch his brothers suffer and wishes he could make all the pain go away.

Like Darry. He wishes he could do more to help Darry pay the bills and take care of the house and make sure everyone is ok. He secretly picks up extra shifts just to try and make sure they aren’t cutting it too close on money each month. He wishes that he could undo everything and he wishes there was a way he could help Darry go back to college. Because damn it, his brother was gonna get out. Then it all came crashing down, all of a sudden Soda is now in his older brother’s custody. The older brother who he used to trail behind for almost four years. The older brother who would come in and sit with him and read him a story after he had a nightmare. He wishes he could make all of Darry’s stress go away. He wishes he could just snap his fingers and fix all their problems. He wishes and wishes, but that’s all it is, a wish.

And then there’s Ponyboy. Sodapop’s baby brother. And there is nothing that Soda wants more than for his baby brother to never have to know pain. And then it happens. His little brother loses a mom, a dad, a best friend, and the guy he looks up to in less than a year. And there is nothing soda wishes more than that he could undo it all. He doesn’t want his baby brother to wake up in the middle of the night screaming and mid panic attack. He doesn’t want his baby brother to have to make almost daily trips to the cemetery to talk to his best friend. Soda wants Pony to be happy, and to continue on. He wishes that Pony could come home and see Johnny on the couch. He wishes so hard that his baby brother’s pain can be undone. He wishes and wishes, but that’s all it is, a wish.

Then there’s himself. And Soda hates self-pity, but it’s a little hard not to have self pity when you’ve gone through what he has. Because for fucks sake, he’s gone through it too. Soda lost his girlfriend, his mom, his dad, his first friend, and someone who may as well have been his brother too. And that hurts. And he wishes he could make it go away. Sometimes he wishes he could be numb to feeling. He wishes he didn’t feel as much and as deep as he does. He wishes that one day, he’ll go to sleep, and he’ll wake up to his life exactly as it was a year ago. But he won’t. And that sucks and he does pity himself. But not for too long, because at his core, Soda is a caregiver. And he can’t wallow in self-pity, because if he does, who will hug Pony and promise him that one day it will be okay? Who will sit down with Darry and reassure him that him and Pony won’t get taken away because Darry is doing his damn hardest to give them the best life he can? But sometimes, when Pony and Darry are asleep, he lets a few tears slip out. For just a few moments, in the silence of his childhood bedroom, he lets himself feel pity, and he lets himself wish. But in the end, that’s all it is, a wish.

[crystallizsch]

I DIDNT THINK THE COLOR-MY-TREE MESSAGES WOULD BE OPEN FOR EVERYONE AT ONCE— IT’S NOT THE 25TH FOR ME YET-

oughhhhhghh anyways very long all-over-the-place, one-thought-leads-to-another sappy message below. read it or not, it’s up to you hdbjss (and don’t worry i’m not putting any messages on blast they were private for a reason 😭) it’s morning for me so i’m just AGH

i wanted to write a general thank-you message but as soon as i started typing all the words i wanted to properly say left my cranium and said “hey let’s be vulnerable” and so here we are.

anyways HI HELLO HI every message means A LOT💥💥💥, thank you to everyone who took time to write one for me. from the simple greetings, the silly messages, and the sweet and vulnerable ones. i will forever remember you all and i’ll keep you in my heart safe and sound. 💖

HARD PIVOT this small part can be skipped but i think i’ve only vaguely and briefly touched on this on my main but christmas eve especially is extremely rough for me. it’s not christmas or the holidays’ fault necessarily, but it’s because one of my parents passed away unexpectedly. so uh not a good memory to put it lightly. i only turned 18 that time, but as the oldest kid, i was already expected to “stay strong” and be the second parent. i felt the overbearing pressure because my family is not really in a “privileged” enough position to even be given the time to grieve + i was in the middle of starting uni so fuck that LMAO.

(something something that’s prob why i relate to jamil a lot HFJDJS but that’s a topic for another day maybe) (anyways just some. necessary??? background context i suppose.)

so uh backstory time. i was there for twst en when it came out but stopped and only got reintroduced to it last year because of an irl friend. i’ve been hooked into it for months BEFORE i started posting at the beginning of this year.

(shoutout yuuna for being my first yuu and shoutout yuusha for taking over my blog, she was never meant to be dragged out of the basement).

i thought this tumblr thing was just gonna be a way for me to distract myself from grief and pressure and the constant thoughts of ending it all. i NEVER would have imagined that i’d be part of community.

i really thought i’d just post art and leave and that’s it. i never thought i’d have people encouraging my creative fixations. i never thought i’d start talking to people. i never thought i’d genuinely make new close friends online. i never thought i’d have impact(???) on people.

i’ve always wanted this blog to just be a fun time where i don’t have to take anything seriously without any pressure. (i’ve definitely gotten more comfy posting whatever and that really feels more freeing).

i never expected to make so many connections because genuinely i only interact without expecting anything back. and the fact people even reciprocated is SUCH a genuine surprise for me. all my experiences thus far is so unbelievable to me even to this day still.

from the bottom of my heart i am trying my best to be a good person, because i don’t think i am. which is why i try to be as kind to myself the way i refer to myself and my work, and that i try to uplift others whenever i can and make sure whatever they do or make will be worth it. i know this sounds so vain of me but if it helps people out and it makes me feel better, i think that’s enough.

also it honestly feels so dumb to realize and admit that technically-speaking, if it weren’t for twst and the following experiences it brought me, i wouldnt be alive rn hdhdj

so to the people who told me i’ve made their days a little brighter. to the people that told me that i’m one of their reasons for getting the courage to start posting/putting themselves out there. to the people who are just so kind and funny to me. and to the people in general who just decided that i’m worth it.

happy holidays!! i love you all, and thank you for being a part of my life no matter who you are 💜💝

[bekolxeram]

It's Christmas' Eve, the holiest night of the year, so I wrote some porn as a gift to everyone.

Part 1 here.

Explicit content under the cut.

Completely surrendering to his lust, Bucks allows himself to be manhandled by Tommy, to be thrown onto the couch, which squeaks and bounces under the sudden weight of two hefty, bulky men.

Tommy splays a hand behind Buck’s head to protect him from the impact on their way down. Once the man underneath hits the armrest of the couch, Tommy waits no time to savor his soft, plump lips. His probing tongue sweeps around Buck’s mouth, trying to gain access to the enticingly warm space within. His request was met with equal fervor, with Buck greedily dragging him in, intertwining them.

Raising a leg over Tommy’s waist, while digging his heel into his clothed buttock, Buck temporarily breaks the kiss to demand, “fuck me, Tommy.”

“Let’s get you ready,” Tommy says, hands already pulling Buck’s sweatpants down, uncovering a fully hard, throbbing erection that springs back and flaps onto his stomach as soon as it’s free.

“Mmmm… Just get inside me,” Buck whines impatiently.

Tommy obeys by swiping a finger over Buck’s entrance, massaging his rim, in an attempt to quickly relax the muscle there. To his surprise, he feels a familiar velvety soft and slippery sensation when he reaches his destination. “Oh?” he looks up at Buck, silently asking for confirmation of his deduction.

“I came prepared,” Buck taunts with a cocky, dimply smirk on his face. It’s soon replaced by a lascivious expression, when Tommy suddenly shoves two fingers inside: his brows furrowing, his eyes fluttering close, his mouth hanging open. With each thrust of Tommy’s digits, Buck’s features ease back into a wide, satisfied grin.

“Give it to me, Tommy.”

“Turn around.” Buck enthusiastically flips his body over at Tommy’s order, getting on his hands and knees, shaking his ass to tempt the other man further while he takes off his jeans.

“Lie down,” Tommy commands again, straddling Buck’s calves and pushing his back down until he’s lying flat on his chest. He then grabs a handful of Buck’s rear, “I want to show you what I’ve learned today.”

He starts kneading, just like how Buck showed him.

He rolls his wrists. He presses down onto the bouncy perfection in front of him. He spreads the cheeks out to the blushing, glossy hole in the middle. He pushes them back together and imagines how tight it would feel embracing his face.

And he repeats everything all over again, until Buck lets out a chuckle, “o — okay, I think the dough is done.”

“Hmmm… I don’t know,” Tommy pretends to hesitate. “Look at me, Evan.” Buck snaps his head around the best he can, meeting Tommy’s lustful stare at the corners of his own eyes. “Let’s have a taste.” He gathers a line of spit in his mouth, lets it obscenely drip down, then licks a stripe along Buck’s crack, earning him a deep, long groan.

“Mmm… peach flavor. You taste so good, baby.”

“Yeah... I picked this lube especially for — , aaaahhhh!” Tommy pushes two lubed up fingers in without letting Buck finish his sentence, stimulating his prostate with practiced ease. Then just as he withdraws his fingers, he immediately takes over with his tongue, swirling around the hot pink hole.

“Mmmmmaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!” He manages to draw out a particularly long moan by pulling Buck’s aroused member back, holding it firmly in his hand, then licking from the tip up along the shaft, his sacs, over his hole, all the way to the base of his spine.

“Just fuck me… I need you to fuck… ah!” Buck howls as Tommy directly buries his hardness into the alluring tight heat.

“To — Tommy! You feel so…”

Tommy gives Buck a few deep but slow thrusts, happy to find the man already clenching and spasming around the intoxicating intrusion.

“Ah! Tommy, I’m gonna…” And he comes, all over the couch, while grinding against its surface.

“Oops,” Tommy laughs teasingly, “looks like someone’s been very pent up.”

“Maybe I’m just really turned on by you?” Buck talks back, sitting up on his knee to assess the mess he’s made, ‘arrrgh…”

“I’ll go get some paper towel to clean it up. You want me to get you some water? A drink?” Tommy asks, effortlessly switching from dominant sex beast to tentative boyfriend.

“A cold beer would be nice.”

“Okay,” Tommy kisses Buck’s forehead, “be right back.”

“You’d better! I’m not done with you.” Buck feasts on the ample curves of Tommy’s behind as he walks away to the kitchen.

[a-regular-amount-of-spiders]

Could I get a spit kink fic w Timmy and reader 😈🙏🙏

Well well, as promised, first come first serve! (Though I’m still down to write more TBH

Hope this is what you wanted! I’ve never written spit kink before so I did my best ☺️

Ofc, 18+!!

I wrote two, one for sub and one for dom.

Sub Tim:

When Tim had come to you, asking to try something new, you’d honestly been expecting something more elaborate. For the king of over-thinking he was shockingly easy to take apart though, so perhaps you shouldn’t have been surprised.

His thin arms, deceptively delicate looking for all the strength they hid, were stretched high above his head as he trembled faintly under you. He keens when you lick up the side of his throat, leaving wet kisses as you make your way back down. You briefly pause to pay his pretty, flushed chest some attention, gently lapping at sensitive buds. Your eyes flick up to watch him struggle to keep his hands where he was told to. Hazy blue eyes meet yours, and he whimpers your name. You wrap a hand around him, just to see him gasp and keen as you swipe your thumb across the drooling head of his cock.

Your other hand drifted up to his jaw, firm press of your thumb on his plush lower lip to keep his mouth open wide enough for you to spit in it. Watching him take it, swallow what you gave like a grateful little slut, was much more gratifying than you’d expected. All it took to have him spilling over your hand was telling him exactly that.

Dom Tim:

So, mid-fuck was perhaps not the best time to drop this on your boyfriend. Tim wasn’t ever a huge fan of surprises, always thinking too much about every little thing you said. However, as you’d say in your defense afterwards, it was entirely his fault you were a thoughtless mewling mess with no filter whatsoever. You were three orgasms deep and he’d been buried to the hilt for what felt like hours (no matter how he insisted it was less than a minute).

All this to say, when he rolled his hips, hitting your sweet spot perfectly like he did every fucking time since he’d figured out where it was, and leaned down to whisper “if you want something sweetheart, you’ll have to beg for it”

Well. You’d begged him to please, please spit in your mouth. You’d thought about it for so long, but we’re always too scared to ask. In that moment you could fathom why you hadn’t done so months ago. Until he froze, and you cracked open pleasure clouded eyes to see wide, gorgeous blue. Completely shocked.

Later, you’d be pretty proud of yourself. Tim was hard to get the drop on, in the moment however? You started apologizing.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean-“ you started babbling, but he just snapped his hips forward, hand on your neck, squeezing briefly before shifting his thumb to stroke your jaw.

“Shut up” he growled, voice thrumming deeper than usual as he fucked into you hard and fast. You could swear you felt it reverberate through your entire body.

You started, open mouthed, and he grabbed your jaw with an iron grip, pressing in on the hinge till your mouth opened wide enough to suit him.

He spit in your mouth, letting go to tap your chin, looking down on you with a demeaningly impassive gaze.

“Go on then, be good and swallow for me.” He was back in control, shock completely overcome. You swallowed, for him and he grinned, sharp and dangerous.

“Good. Now, beg for it this time, nice and pretty for me.”

A/n: Feel free to hit my ask box again if you want a continuation, or if you’d like a different focus!