#firstperson

[soldierboysbeard]

“Kneel For Your Country”

Pairing: Soldier Boy x fem!reader

Content: oral (m receiving), mean!soldier boy, reader likes to suck dick for fun, sir kink, dom!soldier boy, sub!reader, porn without plot, Soldier Boy himself is a damn warning, slight degrading.

——————-

The door slammed behind him.

“On your knees.” Soldier Boy said, not even bothering with a hello.

My heart skipped. I scrambled off the edge of the bed and dropped to the floor, like he told me to. The carpet was rough against my knees, but I didn’t care. Not when I could hear the heavy clink of his belt, the rustle of leather, the smugness practically radiating off him.

“You look like a fucking dream,” he muttered, boots stopping just in front of me. “Or a really, really dirty fantasy.”

I looked up at him. He hadn't even taken off the damn suit.

"You been waiting like this long?"

"Yes, sir," | whispered, voice breathy.

He grinned-cocky, dangerous. "Cute. Bet you've been wet since I texted you."

I bit my lip, nodding. My thighs had been sticky for what felt like hours.

Soldier Boy pulled his cock free, thick and already hard, flushed deep red at the tip. He gave it a few slow strokes, just to tease me. Or himself. Maybe both.

"Then open that pretty mouth," he said, tapping the head of it against my lips. "And don't half-ass it. I like a performance."

I obeyed without hesitation. The moment he slid past my lips, he let out a low, satisfied groan.

"Fuck. There you go. Look at you-like you missed this."

I did. The taste of him, the weight, the way he filled my mouth and held my hair tight in his fist-it all made my skin buzz. I moaned, taking him deeper, relaxing my throat like l'd practiced. He chuckled, the sound rough and mean and stupidly hot.

"Shit, you take it so well," he murmured, hips giving a slow, deliberate thrust. "Knew you were a little slut the second I laid eyes on you."

My eyes watered, drool sliding down my chin. I gagged slightly, and that just made him groan louder. His other hand braced against the wall, letting him fuck my mouth at a slow, punishing rhythm.

"Messy," he said approvingly. "Sloppy and eager. That's how I like it."

I whimpered, hollowing my cheeks, doing everything | could to make him lose that cocky composure. But Soldier Boy didn't just lose control. He took it from you.

His voice dropped, almost gentle if it wasn't so filthy. "You want me to come in that mouth? Or all over your face, huh? Make you wear it like a medal?"

I moaned, unable to answer with my mouth full. He laughed darkly, tightening his grip in my hair.

"Too late," he growled.

He drove his hips forward harder, rougher, his breathing breaking into short gasps as I held on, lips swollen, throat aching-but I didn't stop. Wouldn't stop. I wanted it. Wanted him.

With a deep, guttural sound, he came, pulsing hot down my throat. I swallowed without being told, kept sucking until he hissed and pulled back, cock twitching, saliva and cum glistening on my lips.

He looked down at me, satisfied and smug as ever. "Damn, sweetheart. That's better than room service."

[switchfysh]

So I was in the middle of writing something else and this scene popped into my head. I'm going with a get everything out of my cluttered head habit for the summer so here you go. And now I see it's way longer than I thought. Enjoy...I know I did. Also anyone wanna roleplay with this as a script?

I came home early from work, feeling a bit dizzy and just out of sorts. Thinking a shower would help, I head to our room and the en suite bath. But as I go to undress, I suddenly collapse onto the bed. As I lie there, my breathing becomes steadily weaker. Soon, I’m only gasping a few times per minute, my body barely clinging to life. 

When you arrive an hour or so later, calling my name, you find me face down across a corner of the bed.  I appear unconscious, but somehow I am still partially aware; I can hear and feel. Through the fog, I hear you call my name in concern, and feel you shake my shoulders trying to rouse me. I can’t respond in any way. I feel you lean close to my face, checking for breathing, before gently rolling me over into your arms. I feel you cradle me in your arms, stroking my face and hear you curse as you realize how weak and irregular my gasping breaths are, only 2 or 3 per minute. I feel you gently tilt my head back over your arm and pinch my nose; then your warm lips covering my cool mouth, your warm breath filling down my throat into my starving lungs. I feel the pressure of your fingers in the groove of my neck. 

“Dammit! Their pulse is slow and erratic, too. We need help now,” you state. I hear your phone beep as you dial 911 on speaker. And again, your mouth covering mine, your breath filling my lungs. “911, what is you emergency?” a professional voice asks from the tinny phone speaker. 

“I need an ambulance at 555 Brookbend Rd,” you say before breathing into me once more. “I found my partner unresponsive and barely breathing. They’re hardly moving any air and their pulse is slow and erratic. I’m assisting them with mouth-to-mouth. Please, send help quickly!” Then you bend to ventilate me again.

“An ambulance is enroute, they should be there in less than 5 minutes. Stay on the line and tell me if their condition changes,” the disembodied voice instructs. 

You continue rhythmically filling my lungs and begging me to come back to you, stroking my face and shoulder between breaths and monitoring my pulse and weak attempts to breathe. 

“Breathe, love. Come on, breathe for me. You have to hang on,” you whisper between breaths.

After a minute or so, you notice that all my attempts to gasp and breathe have stopped; I’m now in full respiratory arrest. It is harder now to fully inflate my lungs. You gently pick me up under my knees and shoulders and lie me flat on my back on the floor. You tilt my head back and attempt to ventilate. When you feel resistance, you retilt my head and try again, only to feel more resistance to the air flow. 

“They're in respiratory arrest; all attempts at breathing have stopped. It’s getting hard to ventilate them. I’ve tried repositioning their head, but there is still resistance. Their abdomen and chest seem to be spasming, too,” you say to update the 911 operator.

I feel your hands on me, manipulating my body, your lips on mine, breathing for me. I hear you beg me to stay, muffled as if through a pillow or bedding. As you talk to the operator, I notice spasms in my diaphragm, but before I can figure out what's going on, the world changes to a chaotic buzz of noise and movement. My body begins to convulse. My limbs shake, my neck arches back, but even worse, my chest, diaphragm and abdomen are locked in a tight, painful spasm. Like the end of a hiccup, but this continues without relief. I feel hands on me as you roll me on my side and support my head so it doesn’t hit the floor. You don’t restrain me in any way, just loosely cradle me in your arms as the violent convulsions rack my body.

“Where's the ambulance? Hurry, now they're seizing. I can't get any air into them,” you exclaim to the operator.

“It's almost there,” she answers just as you hear sirens in the distance. It feels hopeless, but you continue to try to breathe for me while supporting me on my side. For me, everything is just noise and static and chaos and pain.

As the seizure dissipates, I come back to my limited senses of hearing and touch. I feel your warm mouth on mine. A thin stream of your breath starts reaching my lungs as they begin to relax from the seizure. The next breath gives some relief from the burning suffocation in my lungs. “Please, don't stop,” I think; you're the only thing keeping me alive, even as I realize my heart is growing weaker, slowing down even more.

There are more hands on me. Gloved hands. Cutting my t-shirt open, sticking things to my chest. Hands on my head, replacing your warm lips with a squishy mask on my face, cold dry air filling my lungs with force. A stab in my arm, a tight crushing band on my bicep, something pinching my fingertip. Ugh, just pain everywhere.

A voice I don't recognize. “They’re bradycardic, heart rate 38,  pulse ox 73, BP 80 over 40. Let's get them on the gurney and ready to transport.” Hands lift me from the floor. Then there's a box between my knees, something round and cold resting on my leg. “Pulse ox is down to 71, we need to intubate before we can transport,” another strange voice. Then faster breaths through the mask, a wash of heat and numbness through my vein. The mask is gone, hands pull my head back and there's a cold metal blade sliding along my tongue. Before it finishes, I'm gone to the blackness.

[strawberrythighddemon]

The Daughters of Darkness: A Cursed Witch (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/story/404257477-the-daughters-of-darkness-a-cursed-witch?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_myworks&wp_uname=RedJade_Queen In death is only the beginning for Kristen Brenner as she discovers her identity while treading between the light and darkness of her soul. Cursed with darkness, her light remains bright...but for how long? This dark fantasy nightmare bends reality through an inescapable curse. Fate cannot save Kristen as her journey of becoming a Witch is not a simple path through the realms of Demons, Goddesses, and Fae. She embarks on the treacherous trail, leading into the shadows of her lost memories, and soon discovers her life will never be the same again. Beware the beast as it lurks in the shadows ahead.

[iatemyleftlegg]

Romeo

Pretty new to tumblr so sorry it’s not aesthetic

:(

-1,470~ words

-SUMMARY: just some fluff about drunk Jake and his gf. I imagined this as Spider-Man era Jake. First person (sorry!!)

-PLEASE GIVE ME TIPS !!

Jacob Benjamin Gyllenhaal. This man could make me cry with that beautiful, lopsided smile he paints on. Somehow, some way, that handsome man sleeps in my bed every night. This night is no different. We’d just gotten back from a dinner party with some other actors and their friends. I’m in our closet changing into the silk pajamas he bought me for our anniversary, while he lays on the bed. He is drunk as hell—he always is at parties like these.

As I change from my party wear to the silk pajamas, I hear a creak from our closet door. I let out a soft chuckle, expecting it to be our cat, Bento. As I wait for her soft black fur, I feel strong arms wrap around me and a nose nuzzling into my blown-out hair.

“Hi, honey...” I mutter, knowing loud noises upset him in his drunken state. He groans softly and holds me tighter.

“Hi, pretty...” His words slur around, mixing vowels and letters into one hot soup.

“What are you doing?” I chuckle, not even bothering to look at him—knowing he’s looking at me shamelessly. He slowly slides down the wall he pressed his back against, taking me down with him.

“Are you going to use your words?” I ask again.

“I just want to be close to you,” he starts, his breath hot against my hair. “You smell so good…”

“You mean not like alcohol?” I scrunch my nose slightly at the smell of the liquor on his tongue. He thinks for a moment and then nods.

“Yeah, no alcohol…”

He starts to get handsy, his calloused hands sliding under my silk shirt. I gasp softly.

“Jake, no touching when drunk,” I remind him of our rule. When either one of us gets drunk, we have rules we set—number one being: no getting handsy. He lets out a groan again, shutting his eyes tight.

“I wasn’t even going to do anything...” he whines. I turn my head to him, patting the arm that’s wrapped around me.

“I need to put my dress away, okay?” I coo at him quietly.

He doesn’t answer at first, just incoherently babbling about how *perfect* I am. Not being sure if he heard me, I nudge him again.

“Honey?”

I try to gently peel his fingers away—no use. Jake whimpers and latches on harder, clutching fistfuls of my shirt like it’s a lifeline. I’m so helpless, all I can do is chuckle.

“You smell like love…” he finally says, his voice muffled due to his mouth being smushed on my shoulder. “And vanilla... sexy vanilla.” He chuckles to himself.

“Are we just going to sleep down here or what?” I smile and turn my body under his tight grip to face him.

“Why would I leave here when I’m already in heaven?” he mutters, the liquor in his tone evident. I wince from the stench and wiggle out of his arms, getting up from the floor with a grunt.

“C’mon, loverboy. Let’s relocate this romance somewhere with pillows.” I nudge his hand with my foot. He looks up helplessly.

“But the floor has *you*.”

“But the bed will too. And it’s not hardwood.” I chuckle and place my hands on my hips.

After a few moments, he sits up—his muscular frame looking almost fragile and pathetic at the moment. The softness in his eyes, almost like a quiet devotion, examines my body with pure admiration. I smile softly and cross my arms.

“All right, darling, let’s get you to bed.” He rises to his feet with the help of me, leaning on me for support, almost like his legs are nonexistent.

The walk from the closet to the bedroom feels like an eternity. As we walk, he fumbles with his suit and shirt buttons, throwing them carelessly on the floor. I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth and smile.

“You’re cleaning that up when you’re sober…” I mutter as he plops down on the bed with a drunken chuckle.

“And what if I stay drunk forever?” he sneers, that stupid smile on his face.

I raise my eyebrow, stepping over the discarded shirt.

“Then I guess I’ll be living with a very messy idiot for the rest of my life.”

He grins wider, stretching his arms out on the mattress.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is,” I say, crawling onto the bed beside him. “For my sanity and the state of this house.” I look around at the mess in the room.

His eyes are glossy as he reaches out, hooking a lazy arm around my waist.

“Hi there.” I chuckle, and my arm swings around his neck.

“Hi.” He snickers.

Jake shifts closer on the bed, eyes half-lidded but still brimming with of love.

“You know,” he mumbles, “you in those pajamas is actually a form of emotional warfare.”

I laugh softly, adjusting the strap on my shoulder. “You bought them.”

“Yeah, and I’m starting to think that was a trap I set for myself.”

He reaches out and brushes a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering a second too long.

“You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re drunk,” I murmur, giving him a pointed look.

He gasps dramatically.


“When I’m drunk? Honey, I’m cute all the time. You just notice it more when I’m slurring.”

I roll my eyes and flick his forehead gently.
“You’re full of it.”

He places a hand over his heart as he grins.


“Full of love. And maybe some tequila—but mostly love.”

I snort and shake my head.


“Go to sleep, Romeo.”

He slides his hands over mine.


“Only if you promise to be in my dreams.”

[mentaldreamsgames]

Outpost Simulator https://store.steampowered.com/app/3508880/

[qbren]

E.Y.E Divine Cybermancy

Watch this video on Twitch Live

Follow Mentor path, Betray Commander Rimanah at the Martian Ruins, Join the Federation & head to Shadow, Falling, & Ancient maps for the final bout!

[whenwolvescryout]

Point of View

Experimental pov post-tf doodle from last year. I used the vr program Gravity Sketch to sculpt out the scene and positioning for reference. 

If you like my art, you can support me on Patreon or Ko-fi

[danniswrites]

Kia's Biehshah Gift - Chapter 42 Leaving Earth Again (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1502278676-kia%27s-biehshah-gift-chapter-42-leaving-earth-again?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=DannisWrites 

 Kia's getting a lawsuit when Irdaktin offers to pay for her co-worker's damage at her workplace. He shows her a future where her healing skills save him and his Biehshah Colony. Garat, Minister Of Leheren, threatens rulers hosting Biehshah Colony. Neither Kia nor Irdaktin knew she had a vital role to play in intergalactic war. [participant in the Fall 2024 Royal Road Writathon challenge]