Source

Brother / Sister duo both very in denial and guilt ridden about their incestuous feelings for one another, so they both get partners. They both try to be good partners, but are constantly so distracted by how angry they are that their sibling has a partner that they end up distracted.

The brother despises his sister’s boyfriend, thinks he is a lowlife and a loser. Completely undeserving of his sister’s love. His sister hates his girlfriend with just as much vitriol. Shes plotted and considered killing her constantly for the crime of daring to steal her brother from her.

Finally they reach a boiling point, fighting about how they hate each other’s partners, only for it to devolve into passionate kissing and declarations of love.

Let’s just say those “relationships” didn’t last long.

You caught me in my feelings and now I’m almost crying, thanks.

Feel like a man : Jason Todd x reader

WARNINGS: suggestive but not explicit, but still MDNI, sensitive topic, mention of trauma

***

Poor Jason.

He came home very late or very early, depending on the definition and saw you, sleeping soundly under the covers.

Looking like a freaking angel, regardless of messy hair, scrunched nose, half-open lips.

And damn, it made him wonder.

He was not enough.

Ever since the torture inflicted by Joker something shifted in his head and in his body and he found himself –

Unable to perform.

And it didn’t matter how many times you told him that it was okay, that sex was not everything, that you two could take it as slow as he needed and that you loved him –

Unable to fucking perform.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to.

Fuck, he did! More than anything. He wanted to be able to touch you without shaking, to be capable of accepting touch without freezing and freaking out, to make you feel good, to ravish you, make you lose your breath, moan and cry his name –

Unable to perform.

What kind of man was he? The piece of shit, he couldn’t get hard at the sight of the most beautiful woman on the planet? The woman who – for reason unknown – wanted him?

Any other guy would just slide into the bed, next to you, kiss your bare shoulder, nuzzle into your neck, wrap arms around your waist and pull you close.

Love you right.

He couldn’t.

“Jay?”

“Hey…”

Obviously she woke up, as if his thoughts formed a storm cloud above his head and the lightning bolts crushing his sound mind got to her too. Catching him standing in the bedroom door like some sort of creep, watching her sleep.

 “Is everything ok?” Y/N moved to a sitting position, vigilant, scanning his face and body, despite the remnants of sleep in the corners of her eyes.

“Yeah.” His voice was hoarse, words limited to absolute minimum, as if scared that any surplus would cause him to break.

“You hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

“Do you want to-“

“No.”

“Oh. Okay. But you know we don’t have to-“

“Just – just stop it, okay? I don’t; want to talk about it, not now. Not ever.” He run fingers through his hair.

“Ok. Ok, don’t freak out on me-“

“Just go back to sleep, will ya?”

“Jason-“

“I’ll be taking the couch.”

“But-“

“No buts.” He almost groaned at her. “Goodnight Y/N.”

***

Stupid asshole.

Stupid, impotent asshole.

He was going to lose her.

Cause no matter her words and assurances, he knew better. Sex was important part of relationship. Otherwise they might as well be only roommates. Without any innuendo, like in that stupid joke. Or worse – they would be like siblings.

Living together, having some tangent points, trying to navigate the life with joined efforts, having fun and stuff, but with zero intimacy.

He just wanted to be a man.

A real man, not a half-one, impaired, broken, messed up, retrieving into his mind every time she touched him, even if by accident.

He was going to lose her.

It was only a matter of time….

ig credit: ardently_adele

Bro’s the Type to..

synopsis- little yuji head canons, fluffy :3

navigation station 🚊

bro’s…

the type to tuck your hair behind your ear and smile at you

the type to stare at you with a boyish grin

the type to tell you to say “ahhh” and feed you

the type to cover your eyes during a scary movie

the type to ask if you’re going to finish your food and eat it before you can

the type to see something cute while shopping with nobara and buy it for you

the type to send you messages constantly during the day about the most miscellaneous things

the type to hog the bed in a starfish position

the type to get offended when you don’t call him by his nickname (yuu or ita)

THE TYPE TO TREAT YOU RIGHT GIRLIE‼️‼️

We all need an Itadori in our lives. LMFAO ME WHEN I COME UP WITH A NICKNAME VS NICKNAME MOOD BOARD POST ( ^ω^ )

I keep seeing these on tiktok and wanted to make my own, hope it was enjoyable

Spider more like. Spied her bitties (bug titties) in your mouth

y-you saw that??? >////_////< you were watching??? 😳

Stepdad who takes me with him at his job, just so he can freely fuck me in his office <3

Stepdad who lets me hump his thigh when I'm overly stressed <3

Stepdad who grunts "you're so much tighter than your mother" while he's ramming full force inside me <3

Stepdad who picks me up from school and fucks me on the backseat of his car, leaving his hand marks on my ass <3

Stepdad who has such a pretty thick accent when he calls me his little doll <3

Stepdad who presses painful pressure on my throat to stop my moans when he's fucking me so mom won't hear <3

lolisho stamp pack <3

edit: made luka/meiko/kaito ones!

Cute collage I made

“I dunno, it feels kinda weird,” you say, leaning your head against your arms as you curl on one end of the couch. Your older brother, on the other end, lets out an exasperated groan. You hope it is an exasperated one, anyway.

“C’mon. I’m not asking much from you, here.”

“…Except for…” your eyes drift down his body to the blanket on his lap. It fails to cover the rhythmic movement of his hand, and you wonder why the two of you ever thought it would.

“…Well. Sitting here and being a… an… inspiration,” you grit through your teeth and tear your eyes away from him entirely.

“Ok, yeah, fair point,” he grunts, and from the corner of your eye, you can see him reach his other hand under the blanket as well, “And you know, I’m— I’m thankful, really…”

He hisses something under his breath, “fuck” most likely, and you try to keep your eyes strictly on whatever 80s horror movie you have playing on the TV. Some guy just got stabbed by an Alice Cooper -looking hobo, probably possessed by Satan, but you still find yourself glancing where you shouldn’t.

You hate that you can’t even blame this idea completely on him. Obviously, it’s him out of the two of you who wants to jerk off to the sight of his sibling. He begged it from you, assured you that you’d be safe, that he wouldn’t touch you — and truthfully, he hasn’t. But it’s you who gave it the go, talked about him letting it out, once and for all, an exorcism of the feelings that plagued him.

“But it would make this quicker, y’know?”

When you turn to look at him, there’s a wry half-smile on his face. You make the mistake of glancing down, at his lap, at his hand moving up and down under the blanket, stroking—

There’s teeth in that smile when you look back up at his face.

“Unless you want this to last longer?” he asks, the teasing grin and wiggling eyebrows unable to hide how hopeful he sounds.

“Wh- No! Christ! Of course not!” you cry out, indignant and your face too hot. You have half a mind to hit him with a pillow. Of course you don’t want this to go on any longer than it has to, what kind of person would?! It’s already bad enough to know that your own brother is looking at you like that, that even now he’s probably wishing he could just press you down on the couch and—

No. None of that.

“Why do you even need me to call you that? I never call you ‘big bro’. No one calls their brother ‘big bro’.”

Is his hand starting to move quicker?

“‘Dunno. Sounds hot,” he says heavily, “C’mon… Just say it. Please?”

He’s leaning forward on the couch, and his eyes are fixed on you so intently that you can’t look away. Some part of you fears that if you do, he’ll just… pounce on you, like some stupid dog that thinks looking away equals submission equals permission.

You do want this to be over with sooner rather than later, don’t you?

“…‘Big bro’,” you mutter. It sounds awkward. Stilted. Reading the lines of a teleprompter.

“Like you mean it.”

Something knots at the bottom of your stomach. Something inside you quivered just now to the deep, growling cadence of his voice.

”Big bro,” you repeat, like you would say his name, and you watch eyes wide as his flutter closed for a second, and a throaty whine leaves his throat.

“Yeah, yeah, keep saying that…”

“You… you want me to just repeat it or… or keep talking or what…? Big bro?” you ask, and try to keep your eyes on his when they open again, and not an inch lower.

“I’d have thought that that would just make it weirder for you, like, just underlining that we are family, how—” your words halt with a realisation, and you curse under your breath, “Fuck. Fuck…”

He blinks, eyes suddenly just a bit darker and more intense as he stares at your shocked face.

“You like that?” you ask, your voice fragile, a question you don’t want an answer to but you have it before the words even leave your mouth.

“…Can’t say I mind it.”

The understatement of the century.

“You like being reminded that we are siblings?” the words feel sticky on your tongue, but they rise unbidden before you can stop them, “I thought you’d have wished that we weren’t, so it’d actually like… like theoretically be possible for us to— but you actually like it, don’t you? You like that you’re not— that I’m not just some… some random pretty girl but your sister, big bro?”

You don’t understand where these words are coming from. Judging by his wide eyes, he doesn’t either. A grin, giddy and apologetic in equal measure, spreads on his face as his hand starts to move faster under the blanket, and you begin to fear it falling, having to see what you are causing, him with his cock out and hard for you.

“Fuck, yes, don’t stop…!”

You fear what that sight would do to you. It’s already bad enough that you can’t tear your eyes off of your big brother, how that familiar face twists into an expression you have never seen before, and shouldn’t have ever seen. His eyes almost flutter closed, but not quite, their dark gaze burning and never leaving you. His mouth hangs open, not quite an ‘o’ shape and more like the open-mouthed grin of a canine, piercings and teeth glinting sharp in the cold light of the TV.

“Jesus— Fuck, this is really what turns you on? Making your little sister watch as her big brother jerks off to her?” you hear yourself whimpering, your voice sounding breathier and much less disgusted than it should. You hate that you find yourself wondering what marks that wolfish mouth would leave, and you hate the longing, warm ripple between your thighs.

He’s cursing under his breath, in between the animalistic groans and whines. Strings of “fuck, fuck, fuck, baby sis” interspersed with your name. His hips are bucking, you can even see his leg kicking under the blanket. And when he leans back, his spine arching against the back of the couch more beautifully than you’d have ever imagined from him, you can barely breathe.

“Is your baby sis making you cum, big bro?”

You have your answer in his eyes, wide before they roll back in his skull. In his hips that stutter up, in the wet, growing stain on the blanket. In the tongue that lolls out from between his sharp teeth, a red carpet for all the throaty, helpless sounds of a man cumming his brains out.

He slumps against the couch, boneless and exhausted, a stupid, drunken smile on his lips. You just made your own big brother cum his brains out.

And when he turns to look at you, bliss written all over his face, you know it won’t be the last time.