#(in keeping with the prompt I started drawing this WAY too late)

[trashart00]

Ladynoir July 2024, Day 6: Better Late Than Never

@ladynoirjuly

(Flashing images under cut)

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(she’s just a girl your honour!)

[pathologicalreid]

hiii I love ur fics <3 I am OBSESSED with the prompt “can you come get me?” bc h/c makes me 💥💥💥 so I was thinking:

reader has been kidnapped by the latest unsub and the team is trying their hardest to find her but all the leads keep coming up empty until one day Spencer gets a call from her and the first thing she says is “can you come get me?” she sounds extremely upset and afraid so Spencer and Hotch leave to go find her. when they get there, she looks like she’s been through hell so they rush her to the hospital to be checked out, all the while they can’t seem to get any info out of her about what happened.

Spencer & reader could be platonic or romantic, whichever you like. (also I was thinking maybe hotchner!reader ? if that wouldn’t be too many things to ask for lol)

I love how you do angst and h/c, so keep up the good work and have a wonderful day <3

can you come get me? | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: kidnapping, hospitals, stitches, blood draws, catatonia, disassociation, brief mention of sa, ohio mentioned, general cm violence (let me know if i missed any) word count: 4.56k a/n: i have no idea how this got so long but i love the plot of it so much that i couldn't cut any of it! i'm such a slut for the "you came"/"you called" trope that i couldn't help myself! i wrote this with the idea that it would be in place of the m*eve storyline (which means our lord and savior blake is here)!! anyways anon i hope you enjoy this - i love you!

Any external sound was completely ignored as Spencer flipped through the same file for the eighteenth time that day. In his periphery, he saw JJ and Rossi nod at each other before Rossi split away, walking up the ramp to where Hotch’s office was.

It took him a moment to realize JJ had made herself comfortable by sitting on the edge of his desk. She had her jacket neatly folded in her arms as she eyed the file he had, grief filling her eyes as she registered what he was looking at. “What are you doing tonight?” She asked, trying to keep her voice as light as possible.

The question was entirely pointless, she knew exactly what he was doing tonight, but in an attempt to get her to leave him alone, Spencer humored her, “I’m working late tonight,” he answered simply.

JJ’s smile faltered ever so slightly before she shook her head, “You’ve been working late all week, what if you come over tonight? Will’s making dinner. Garcia’s coming after she finishes her system update,” the attempt to get him out of the office didn’t go over his head, but it wasn’t going to work. “Henry would love to see you – maybe you could teach him a new magic trick.”

Peeling his eyes off of the paperwork, he looked up at the blonde, “You know I can’t.” He felt so close to an answer, he couldn’t possibly leave.

“Look, Reid, I get it, but you’ve been working crazy hours for the past month. Maybe taking a night off would be good. You can start fresh in the morning,” she tried to coax him into leaving the case be.

It hadn’t been a full month; it had been twenty-seven days. Almost four full weeks since you were taken. It had been one week since Section Chief Cruz had told Hotch that the BAU needed to start taking new cases, as the trail to you had run cold.

Considering you were Hotch’s daughter, that discussion had gone rather poorly. Cruz had been able to give the team leeway. Both Spencer and Hotch had fully intended on taking advantage of that leeway, and the rest of the team helped when they had the capacity.

Turning back to your file, Spencer shook his head, “I’ll go if Hotch goes.” He knew there was no way Hotch would be leaving the office tonight, the only reason Hotch went home anymore was for Jack, and he was at a sleepover tonight.

JJ’s shoulders slumped in abject disappointment as her eyes followed Dave as he exited Hotch’s office, the slamming of the door enough to make the lingering BAU agents flinch. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, defeated.

Rossi wagged a finger at Spencer, “Go home at some point tonight, kid,” he instructed.

Waving a quick goodbye, Spencer resumed making notes in the margins of the papers that were making a permanent home on his desk. He looked up when Hotch exited his office, eyes following him as he brewed a pot of coffee in the kitchenette. The two of them acknowledged each other with a nod before continuing on with the hunt.

Both of them knew the odds, that you had been gone this long and there was a good chance that they’d never see you again. Despite that, Spencer would head up to Hotch’s office in about an hour, and the two of them would confer.

Eventually, the sun set, and a thunderstorm rolled in, the flashes of light coming in through the windows as he began to consider going for another cup of coffee.

Wiping a hand down his face, he inwardly groaned as his phone started to ring. Half expecting it to be JJ, he was surprised to find that it was an unknown caller. Clicking the answer button, he lifted the phone to his ear, “Hello, this is Dr. Reid.”

There was an eerie silence on the other end of the call, if he strained his ears, he could hear the pattering of rain. He tried to greet the other person again, but when there was no answer, he started to lower the phone to hang up.

“Can you come get me?” Your quiet voice came through the receiver, effectively knocking the wind out of Spencer’s lungs.

Fiddling with his belongings, Spencer gripped your file, “Where are you?” He asked urgently.

You sniffled, “I don’t know. A payphone off of twenty-eight.” If he strained his ears, he could listen to the rain. Spencer wondered if he could calculate how far away you were by the sound of the thunder where you were compared to where he was.

His chest ached at the exhaustion in your tone, imagining you had gotten approximately as much sleep as he had recently. That is to say, little to none. Pulling the phone slightly away from his face, he called out for Hotch, getting his attention and waving him over. “Y/N, can you see any mile markers or exit signs anywhere?” Spencer asked, bringing the phone back up to his ear.

“I can’t see much of anything,” you admitted. That made sense, your glasses had been recovered at your abduction scene. Spencer kept them in his bag with the rest of your belongings that had been released from evidence. “I feel lucky enough that I was able to find a pay phone,” you said, and for the first time, he noticed that you were whispering.

Glancing at the inside of his wrist, Spencer checked the time. JJ had mentioned something about Garcia staying in her office for a system update – what were the odds the tech analyst was still there? Stalking out of the bullpen, he made his way to her office, Hotch hot on his heels.

After knocking on the door, her voice rang out, “Enter, mere mortal.” Once she had recognized who it was, she greeted Spencer directly, “Ah, Dr. Reid, did you need a ride to JJ’s?”

“Can you locate a payphone based on the phone number?” He asked hurriedly, the longer you stood out there in the rain, the more danger you might be in.

A confused look was plastered on her face, but she turned back to her screens and started click-clacking away. “Most def, boy genius. Run me the digits,” she responded, pulling up some sort of database that Spencer didn’t recognize – probably for the best.

She typed the phone number just as quickly as he recited it, turning around and telling him that the pay phone in question was approximately thirty minutes away. You had only been thirty minutes away this entire time. “Send the coordinates to Hotch’s phone,” Spencer instructed, stepping toward the door. “Tell the rest of the team to come in,” he continued, “it’s Y/N.”

Each stage of grief flashed across Penelope’s face as she nodded assuredly, scrambling for her phone as she took care of notifications.

Impatiently, Hotch held the elevator door open as Spencer entered, keeping the phone up to his ear, “Stay on the phone,” he told you.

A desperate whimper came from your end of the call, “I don’t have any change. I found a few quarters on the ground, but I don’t have anything on me.”

“Stay on as long as you can, angel,” Spencer amended. “We’re on our way.”

The rain was worse than he had initially thought, but Mother Nature was no match for Aaron Hotchner. They were only about five minutes from the coordinates that Garcia had shared, and the phone call had dropped off before they were even on the main highway. The dropped call certainly didn’t help the rising tension in the SUV.

“Did she sound scared?” Hotch had asked for the nth time.

Not taking his eyes off of the map, Spencer nodded, “She sounded like she was stranded in the middle of the woods in Virginia, in a thunderstorm, and was using a pay phone as a lifeline.” His entire body was thrumming with nervous energy as they sped down the road, “but she’s alive.”

He didn’t miss the way Hotch’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. You being alive would have to be enough of a comfort to the both of them for now, but Spencer knew what your life meant to your father.

“There it is,” Spencer said, interrupting his thoughts with the recognition of a phone booth on the side of the road, in front of a seemingly abandoned gas station. In a moment of uncharacteristic recklessness, Spencer clambered out of the vehicle before it came to a full stop, an umbrella and jacket in tow.

Hesitantly, he approached the crumpled heap of limbs underneath the pay phone. It wasn’t a full booth, it had just enough coverage to prevent the payphone from short-circuiting. You had jammed yourself underneath it, trying to keep yourself as dry as possible.

Kneeling in front of you, he swept his sopping-wet hair from his face, “Y/N.” His voice was no more than a breath, he didn’t dare reach out to touch you — lest you not want to be touched. A strike of lightning lit your surroundings enough for him to note the bruise that had bloomed on your cheek.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he watched as your lips parted in recognition, “You came,” you whispered.

He nodded, “You called.” His heart soared as you shuffled yourself closer to him, allowing him to wrap the FBI-issued jacket around your rain-soaked frame. “Let’s get you out of this rain, alright?”

Standing up on shaky legs, Spencer helped you walk to the SUV where your dad was waiting, shining a flashlight to help guide you to the vehicle. Based on how heavily you were leaning on him, he could tell that your left leg was injured. Despite your injury, you stepped away from Spencer to hug your father.

For a moment, Spencer felt like he was intruding on a family moment, but he recalled all of the times he had been invited to join in Hotchner festivities these last few years and allowed his eyes to meet Hotch’s.

The two of them shared an understanding look as Hotch pulled away, “We should get you to a hospital,” he said, cupping your face with parental gentleness.

Spencer helped you into the SUV, unable to put any pressure on your leg, you depended on the handles to pull yourself up. As you maneuvered yourself, he tried to determine what your injuries were. His eyes scanned your body until he made his way back to your face, “Angel, keep your eyes open.” He felt as if he was asking a lot of you, but he didn’t know if you had taken a hit to the head. Falling asleep could do more damage. “Hey, Y/N?” He said, watching as your eyes fell shut and your head slumped forward. “Hotch,” Reid said urgently from the backseat.

Understanding perfectly, Hotch hit the lights on the SUV and turned on the siren. Flashes of red and blue signaled to other drivers that there was an emergency.

You were silent.

As soon as they had gotten you to the emergency room, your entire demeanor had changed. Spencer guessed that you had been in fight or flight when they had picked you up from the phone booth, and now that you were getting the help that you needed, all of the fight had vacated your being.

In the white fluorescence of the hospital, he could see how drained you looked. Once the doctors got their hands on you, you refused to let him or your dad near you.

Hotch was in the hallway, talking on the phone with your Aunt Jessica while he tried to arrange childcare for Jack so he could stay with you - the leader of your care team estimated you’d be in the hospital for at least a few days.

While you had been mobile when they came to get you, your energy had left along with your adrenaline, and eventually, the best course of action was to just let you sleep. That was how Spencer ended up sitting cross-legged in a stiff hospital chair, watching over you as you slept.

Respectful of your wishes, he kept a fair distance from you, but you’d be hard-pressed to convince him to let you out of his sight. There were tubes and wires going every which way from your body, oxygen, an IV, and electrodes monitored your life. Boiling you down to a collection of numbers that showed Spencer just how alive you were.

The doctors suspected you had bacterial pneumonia, but they were still waiting on the results of your chest X-ray to make a formal diagnosis. Your presumed leg injury had turned out to be a bruised hip bone – part of a sickening pattern that reflected that of someone who had been thrown down a flight of stairs.

A knock on the window to your hospital room caught his attention, causing him to turn his head and come face to face with Rossi and Blake. Opening the blinds so that he’d be able to keep an eye on you from the hallway, Spencer stood up and joined his colleagues in the corridor.

“What’s the report?” Rossi asked, nodding in the direction of your room, and placing his hands on his hips.

Spencer rubbed the back of his neck before responding, “The doctor said that all things considered, she’s in good shape, but…” Shaking his head to wake himself up, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, “She’s sick and was beaten. Right now, she’s sleeping. We have no idea she was running in the woods, so it’s not surprising that she’s exhausted.”

He continued on to list other maladies that the doctors had provided, dehydration, malnutrition, one cut on your arm that needed to be stitched, and that was just scratching the surface. Dave nodded understandingly, “but the sooner we get to ask her questions, the better.”

Shrugging, Spencer looked over at your father, and then back to you, “When she wakes up on her own,” he murmured, watching as a nurse checked on your IV. He didn’t want to risk waking you up or asking too much too soon of you. “Can I ask you a quick question?” He lifted a finger inquisitively to the nurse who was walking out of your room, scribbling something on your chart.

The nurse hummed in response, raising her eyebrows as she waited for him to ask.

“Do you think the infection has anything to do with her silence? She might be hurting so she isn’t talking?” He asked, it wasn’t unheard of, when people were in a lot of pain, sometimes they coped with silence.

While the nurse might have an excellent bedside manner, the three profilers took note of the concern in her eyes. “The silence might have more to do with her psychological well-being than her physical well-being,” she responded, it was a healthcare way of trying to appease them. Really, they didn’t know much better than the members of the BAU did.

Blake’s eyebrows shot up in curiosity, “Could it be catatonia?”

“In order to diagnose catatonia, she’d need to display three of twelve symptoms. Those are stupor, catalepsy, waxy flexibility, mutism, negativism, posturing, mannerism, stereotypy, agitation, grimacing, echolalia, and echopraxia. So far, she really only meets one of twelve,” Spencer answered.

Shrugging, the nurse pointed at Spencer with her pen, “What he said.” She looked down at the chart before continuing, “Her care team leader called for a psych consult, but we won’t really know one way or the other until she wakes up.”

Nodding, Rossi nodded in acknowledgment, “What else could it be?”

Pursing her lips, the nurse tilted her head to the side, “Peritraumatic disassociation is another possibility, but again, we won’t know until she wakes up.”

The waiting game began. As luck would have it, an FBI agent being abducted created a lot of paperwork, so Hotch was holed up in a conference room while Rossi and Blake worked on the profile. JJ and Morgan stayed back at Quantico with Garcia to look back at what information Hotch and Spencer had been gathering over the past twenty-seven – now twenty-eight – days.

Spencer stayed with you, tucking your blanket around you when he watched goosebumps sprout along your arms. He paid close attention to everything that the doctors and nurses said about your condition, relaying everything to Hotch via text message. They ran a kit on you, and the only solace was that there was a chance that they could DNA match whoever did this to you.

He left that last part out of his message to your father.

As soon as you started waking up, Spencer had to leave the room, watching from the hallway as medical personnel flurried around your bed. At first, he had assumed your aversion to himself and your dad was an overall aversion to men, but you didn’t flinch when it came to the male doctor who was checking your vitals manually.

A nurse peeked out from the door, “Are you Dave?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Spencer cocked his head back in confusion, “No? I’m not – why?” He asked, gaze flickering back into your room as you scrawled something on the piece of paper that a nurse had handed you.

“She said she’d talk to Dave,” the inquiring nurse shrugged, turning back into your room, and adjusting your pillow beneath your head.

Still confused, Spencer slipped his phone out of his pocket, nimbly typing a message to Rossi before returning the phone to its home in his slacks. Trying to respect your peace, Spencer remained in the hallway, leaning back against the wall as he heard the familiar sound of Italian leather boots turning the corner. “Are you sure she didn’t mean Aaron?”

Spencer shook his head, mirroring the older man’s confusion, “She physically wrote your name out. She’ll only speak to you,” he answered, trying to hide his own pain for the sake of ridding you of yours. If you wouldn’t talk to your father or himself, it made the most sense that you’d talk to Rossi. You’ve known him the entire time your father worked in the BAU.

Shrugging, Rossi walked into your room and approached you with the care of a man approaching a deer. He remained this way until he made it to your bed, and Spencer watched as he smoothed your hair away from your face affectionately.

You leaned into his touch, and Spencer didn’t miss the cue. When was the last time anyone had touched you with love in their heart?

He had kissed you goodbye before you went on your run, just thirty minutes before your location turned off and your usual Thursday route turned into a hunting ground. With what you did for work, you switched paths frequently, but someone had been watching you, or at least, that was the conclusion the team had drawn.

Watching as Rossi spoke with you, Spencer noticed one anomaly – you weren’t speaking to him. Instead, all of his questions were answered with blinks or scribbling on paper.

The two of you went until a nurse came in, telling the both of you that they needed to run a few more tests. Taking his leave, Rossi told you something that Reid couldn’t quite make out and rejoined him in the hallway.

“What did you say to her? Just now?” Spencer asked, his need for any sort of contact with you becoming so desperate that he’d now accept it secondhand.

Frowning, Rossi placed both of his hands on his hips, “I called her piccolina, I used to call her that all the time when she was just a little thing running around the old BAU bunker.” Taking a moment, Rossi pulled out his little notebook and read through it. “White male, late twenties to early thirties, sometimes gone for days on end citing ‘work,’ but she never figured out what he did for work.”

Spencer’s eyes burned at the realization that you had been working your own case while being victimized, he peered in through the window as a nurse drew your blood.

“She said he drove a dark American sedan, making it either blue or black,” Rossi continued to list off, eyes following Blake as she approached the two of you. “Y/N said the car was filthy like he had been living out of it when he couldn’t get to her in the woods. The car had an Ohio party plate on it with expired tags.”

Blake arched a brow at the new information, “Party plate?” She said quizzically, looking at Spencer for clarification.

Nodding, Spencer looked over at his friend, “That’s the colloquial name for restricted license places. They’re given to people who are convicted of DUIs, which is actually called an OVI in Ohio. In Ohio, they’re yellow with red print, and the only state to have something similar is Minnesota where they call them whiskey plates because they all start with the letter W.”

“Well, he’s confident. Maybe too confident, driving around with expired tags and a license plate that already puts a spotlight on him,” Blake said thoughtfully, adding to the profile in her mind. “We should get this information to Garcia, maybe look for people who recently relocated from Ohio with those plates,” she suggested to Rossi.

Rossi nodded, skillfully flipping the cover back over his notepad and gesturing for Blake to follow him to the conference room, effectively leading Spencer to his own devices. When the nurse left to bring the vials of blood to the lab, he returned to your room, taking his seat on the edge of the room – as far away as he could get while keeping his eyes on you.

He looked up to your bed, catching you staring at him. As soon as you knew you had been caught, you turned your head to the other side, averting your gaze toward the window.

Every thirty minutes or so, Spencer moved the chair approximately five inches closer to you, by four in the morning, he had closed half of the space between you. He kept his eyes on you, watching as you stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. You had that crease between your eyebrows that told him you were thinking too hard, and he had to sit on his hands to stop himself from reaching out and touching it as if he could soothe all of your bad thoughts.

In the doorway, Rossi had appeared, garnering your attention as you propped yourself up on the flat hospital pillows. “We got him,” Rossi announced to the room, a reserved smile on his face.

Spencer watched as you visibly relaxed on the bed, your face softened as your eyebrows relaxed. Rossi explained some next steps, but he was only half listening, he could only focus on you.

Once Dave was gone, Spencer took a leap of faith and shuffled the chair to your bedside, “How are you feeling, angel?” He asked, taking up a muted tone.

You stared at him, blinking at him until, eventually, your face crumpled, and you leaned toward him.

Not missing a beat, Spencer stood up from his chair so that he could sit on the edge of your bed, meeting you in the middle, he gently wrapped his arms around you, rubbing small, soothing circles along your back with the flat of his hand.

In the past twenty-eight days, Spencer thought that being reunited with you could fix all of the hurt in his chest, but this, right here, was a different kind of pain. Tears sept through the fabric of his shirt just as soon as they fell from your eyes, and all of the hurt that he had felt before just morphed into a different kind of suffering.

His heart ached at the sight of you in this much pain, so much emotional turmoil that you had silenced yourself. What was he supposed to say in order to comfort you? ‘You’re okay,’ was wholly false, and ‘it’s alright’ felt like a cruel joke. You very clearly weren’t okay, and none of this was alright.

“I’m here,” he reassured you, his voice no more than a croak as he tried to swallow his own emotions. “I’m right here,” he repeated, continuing his ministrations on your back until you had cried yourself to sleep.

With your body in its weakened state, Spencer carefully adjusted you onto the bed, making sure none of your tubes or wires were kinked before settling back down in his chair and taking your hand in his.

Around the time the sun came up, your care team came through for morning rounds and woke you up to thoroughly inspect your status. Once they left you to your own devices – with the promise of food in half an hour – Spencer focused all of his attention on trying to coax you into speaking to him.

Tenderly, he dragged a finger across your forehead before continuing down the bridge of your nose, “I’d really like to hear your voice, sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, maintaining a subdued tone in the early hours of the morning.

He watched as you sighed, deflating all of the air in your lungs as you tipped your head to the side, interrupting his movements. “I asked him to do it,” you murmured, voice raspy from lack of use.

“To do what?” Spencer asked, heart beating a little faster at the sound of your voice. He watched how you nervously gripped a fistful of sheets and looked at him. Only you weren’t looking at him, it was more like you were looking through him.

You took a deep, shuddering breath before you answered, “To kill me.”

The confession weighed heavy on his shoulders, but it wasn’t regarding anything against you. It was in the realization that you had been in so much physical and emotional turmoil while in captivity that you had asked for your own death. That even for a moment, you sat in front of a killer and asked for him to end your life as an act of mercy.

Noting Spencer’s lack of response, you continued speaking, “That’s why he let me go. I begged him to just end it and that took away any appeal for him.”

Last night. You had pleaded on behalf of your own demise last night. Carefully considering his next words, Spencer met your eyes and replied, “That must’ve taken a lot of courage.”

You faltered for a moment, evidently not having expected those words from him, “What are you talking about?”

It made sense to him now, why you wouldn’t talk to him or your dad. He felt like such a fool. You had been ashamed because you felt like your abductor had diminished your worth by breaking you down. Spencer knew better, “You stood your ground. You faced your own death, and you chose that over further suffering. Dying isn’t an undignified act, no matter how it comes upon you,” he reminded you, smoothing your hair away from your face as he watched your lip quiver.

“Thank you for staying,” you croaked as emotion closed your throat.

Spencer hummed thoughtfully, swiping a rogue tear from your cheek, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐦 || 𝐉.𝐘𝐇 ♡

【Synopsis】 : You need to start your day, but your cute, sleepy boyfriend can't seem to keep his hands to himself.

『Word count』 : 1.65k

-> Genre: Pwp. Smut.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Yunho x Girlfriend!Reader   

[Warnings] : Lazy sex. Unprotected sex. Coming inside (dont do that). fingering. Dirty talk. Swearing. Dominance play kinda?

Note: This is dedicated to my sweeties @yunhoszn @bro-atz and @skteezcursed ♡♡ I hope you all enjoy this little piece of filth. And special thanks to Bro for the prompt. "Are you wearing my shirt? That's hot."

Also, thank you, @gococogo , for helping me with the title.

Networks: @atzhouse @wonderlandnet @illusionnet @cromernet

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In simple terms, you were in a rush. You managed to escape Yunho’s deathly grip before quickly throwing on anything you could find. Yunho wasn’t a deep sleeper per se, but you were thanking the gods he was most likely too tired from practice yesterday to hear all the unnecessarily loud noises the draws make. Or the way the bathroom door creaks. And your little swears as you look around for your belt.

You had promised your friends you’d go shopping with them for this event you all had planned to go to. But what you didn’t expect was them suddenly texting you, saying they want to go out so goddamn early. While you looked through the top drawer of your dresser for a cute pair of socks to match your outfit you heard a shift followed by a light groan… fuck, You thought.

“Are you wearing my shirt?” No, hello or morning. Your hunk of a boyfriend decided to send shivers down your spine as his unnaturally deep groan caught your ears. His eyes were hooded, still half asleep. His hair was sticking up in random directions making him look goofy in the best way. And that voice… “That’s hot.”

“What?!” You responded suddenly, shaking your thoughts aside.

“You. Look. Hot. In. My. Shirt.” Yunho punctuated every word as he sat up, eyeing your figure. He always looked hot but when you paired his clothing in the mix, fuck he couldn’t help himself. “Come here.”

“Yun. I’m going to be late.” You sputtered, turning back around to grab a random pair of socks, no longer caring if they matched.

“I said come here.” If by some cynical miracle, his voice dropped, making you freeze. Slowly, you closed the dresser before turning around. He was leaning against the headboard, his bare chest on full display. His hair had flattened a bit from him, running his fingers through it. He managed to look dishevelled and put together at the same time. The smile on his face grew once your eyes met his, and then he tapped his thigh. You shamefully walked over, like a mouse willingly entering the lion's den. His hand reached for you as soon as you got to the edge of the bed, tugging you harshly until you were perched on top of him. “There…Wasn’t that so hard.”

“I really need to go, Yun. I can't be la-” Yunho shut you up quickly with his lips, the force of his hand on the back of your neck holding you still. Your eyes couldn’t help but flutter close while your hands gripped the ends of his soft locks. His hands pulled and tugged on your shirt, untucking it from your pants before his fingers started to pop your buttons. “Yunho, I r-rea…” He swallowed your words, “..ly need to go.”

He finally let go of your neck, letting you pull away to breathe. But his attack didn’t falter. His mouth latched onto your neck, lazily suckling a bright purple mark on the left side. A perfect little imprint to show off what belongs to him. Your hands falter slightly, failing to hold onto him any longer, it was like your body was shutting down at the mere sensation of Yunho. You could almost forget about the day your friends had planned. You could almost just let Yunho have his way with you… almost. “Yunho I need to go and if you don’t stop biting my neck there will be problems…”

“Oh, will there be?” Yunho didn’t seem to care much about your empty threat cause he knew for a fact you meant none of it. One of your favourite things to do is nap with him, so you passing this opportunity up would be very unlike you. “Come on darling. Take off your clothes.”

Even when Yunho was sleeping he still was always dripping with confidence. You bit your lip, slipping the belt through its loops, before throwing it across the room. You hopped off the bed briefly to discard your pants, all the while Yunho laid back down, taking in a big sigh as he got comfortable once again. He was relaxed, tired even. But something about you wearing his shirt was still leaving him with an insatiable thirst. A thirst he needs you to satisfy. Your hands reach for the hem of the said shirt but Yunho quickly stops you. “Do not take that off.”

The grunt between the words causes you to let out a shaky breath, crawling back onto the bed until you are on top of him. Caging him. “You are so annoying.” You huffed gifting him a small peck.

He smiled, “You love it.”

“Oh, I do…” You kissed him again, grinding your hips slowly against his covered crotch. He growled through his nose, his hands gripping your ass harshly, helping you find a steady rhythm. Yunho couldn’t explain it but it was as if his body was turned up to a thousand. Every touch, every sly hump from your hips. Your nails lightly scratched down his naked chest. Everything was unbelievably sensitive. Was it because he was exhausted from yesterday and still in a dream state? Or was it you? Had his body finally given up and now you had all the control. He couldn’t tell anything apart anymore.

“I need you doll…” He moaned into your mouth. Now it was your turn to smirk. Your hands that rested on his chest, mindlessly moving their way down until they landed on his bulge. He was completely hard beneath his boxers.

“You want to fuck me, pretty boy?” You whispered in his ear before kissing along his jaw. He tilted his head, his eyes rolled back feeling you tug on his boxers until his cock was just free enough for you to grab. “You better come with me to this shopping trip when we’re done.”

“Oh, I’ll come…” He lazily smirks, making you blush lightly. You sat up seeing a puppy-like gaze in his eyes. Devoted, needy. So much for dominance, you thought. You slide your panties to the side, feeling your slick had already wet the fabric. His eyes never left yours as you slid a finger inside your aching pussy.

“Yun…” You whimpered, slowly preparing yourself for him, grinding steadily on your finger. The heat from your cunt, pooled against Yunho’s cock, as he watched you with knitted brows as you rubbed yourself against him. You were so close yet so far away from him, he needed to be inside you. Now.

“You better sit on my fucking cock right now before I bust from this sight.” He tipped his head against the pillow below him. His cock twitched as the tip caught your folds, feeling the slick coak his shaft. He couldn't help but let out a moan higher than normal, feeling all sense of proper function leave his brain. “Please, doll. I’m dying here.”

“Hmm. alright.” You chuckled, sitting up to line his cock to your entrance before sinking down completely taking every inch in one go. You hiccuped a whimper, slightly knowing you were going to definitely regret not prepping as much later but for now, you basked in the ache. The slight pain of being stretched by your boyfriend's girth. “Y..Yuyu..”

“Fuck you feel like heaven, baby. So fucking t-tight.” Yunho cried, his hands suddenly gripping tight on your hips, his nails leaving crescent moon shapes that will certainly bruise by the evening. You stable yourself with his shoulders, bouncing quickly on him. Your eyes had fluttered closed, basking in the feeling of your boyfriend's huge cock deep inside you.

“Yunho, You’re so big, fuck nhg,.” You whined, your arms shaking as they struggled to keep your body weight up. Yunho hazily opened his eyes to see the pure bliss mixing with concentration on your face. He could see you were struggling to keep the rhythm and his snug thought was whether to help you or not. Maybe I should let her struggle a bit, brat deserves it. He’d chuckled to himself but ultimately decided to help you, bringing his legs up, he planted his feet tight against his thighs, tipping you over so your top half would rest against his chest. Caging him. 

“You hold princess.” He grunts in your ear before jackhammering up into your soaked cunt. You could hear all the squelching and dripping from the slick leaking from your abused hole. You were so close, you just needed a little more, a little push. Your hand snaked down between yours and Yunho’s body, finding your clit quickly. Yunho grinned smugly as he felt your hand press tightly against your nub. Your fingers circled in time with Yun’s thrusts, making you come with a loud scream of his name. Yunho finished quickly after feeling you clamped tight around him.

His thrusts lazily came to a full stop, but he didn't leave the warmth of your cunt as he rolled you to the side. Yunho’s arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he nuzzles his head against your chest, hearing the way your heart rate slowed. You felt exhausted, softly raking your fingers through Yunho’s sweaty hair. There was a calming silence, one you and Yunho always managed to find yourself in. comfort, loving, contentment. “Five minutes… Then we’ll go. Okay.”You huffed out a yes to his questions, but you knew very well five minutes was actually going to be five hours and you were going to have to explain and apologise to your friends.

[cordeliawhohung]

Again same anon, no need to like post this one BUT the whole cig shotgun thing, i also think that he wouldn’t want her to inhale the smoke. He’d make her exhale it after holding it for a second or two—let her get the taste. “Can’t have you doin shit tha’s bad for ya, you already overwork yourself.” And perhaps he’d hold her jaw while he holds it to her lips.

Okay bye now I will spare you my devious thoughts

you sent this ages ago sorry but i was going through my inbox (sorry there's a lot) and i am just-

"Can I try?"

Simon nearly jumps out of skin at the soft whisper of your question. His neck snaps over his shoulder, taking in your tired form standing in the doorway, hands rubbing at your eyes. The cool summer breeze pulls at your nightshirt; it does nothing to hide the swaying parts of you that dance beneath the fabric as your bare feet trot against the cool cement of the balcony. Dark shadows dance across your face as you blink, waiting for your answer.

"Hmm?" he asks.

"Your cigarette," you clarify.

With the way his brows draw together, you would have thought the item had magically formed between his lips and he hadn't realized it until you pointed it out. Embers glow and flicker as he takes it into his fingers, making sure to hold it away from you as you lean against the railing next to him.

"You wanna try?" he asks.

You shrug. "Never have before."

Mulling your proposition over, he bites the insides of his cheeks as he studies you. He always enjoys when you're like this. Half awake and still trying to fight off thick prostration. Your eyes always seem to glimmer more. They dance in the moonlight as you stare at him, tongue wetting the inside of your lips. He swallows as he takes in the sight of them, so soft and sweet. Figures maybe he wouldn't mind putting something between them.

"Alright," he relents. Surprised, your eyes widen as you tilt your head, not having expected him to give in so quickly. He raises the cigarette, plumes of smoke traveling in its wake, yet he refuses to hand it over. "But don't inhale this shit, yeah? Holdin' it in your mouth'll do plenty. You're already workin' yourself half to death, don't need to speed that up."

Nodding your head in agreement, he finally pushes the cigarette toward you, but he still won't hand it off. Instead, he situates it so the filter faces you, and gently brings it to your lips, spoon feeding you the nicotine high himself. Warm fingers hold your chin steady, trying to keep the ash from falling on you. Eager lips wrap around the filter, and his eyes become inky as he soaks up the sight. Your lips hollow, dragging the smoke into your mouth, and you hum as the flavor washes over your tongue.

He recoils the moment you start coughing, puffs of smoke expelling from your mouth too fast to keep shape. His titter is slightly jeering as he shakes his head, shoving the stick back into his own mouth as you attempt to catch your breath.

"What'd I tell ya?" he chuckles.

"How do you keep doing that when it burns so bad?" you wheeze.

"Lot'sa practice, sweetheart."

As it usually does this late into the night, Simon's mind begins to wander. He thinks about that delicate sheen on your lips, how prettily they parted for him, and he feels that heavy libidinous ache swell deep in his stomach. There's a feeble attempt to hide his growing desire, and he smothers it with a quick drag just as your coughing begins to dwindle.

"C'mere," he prompts, head motioning for you to come closer.

Sucking in a breath of fresh air, you comply happily, pads of your feet slapping against the ground. Simon pushes himself away from the railing, standing tall as he brings his free hand up to your face. He relishes the softness of your skin underneath the thick callous of his thumb as he presses on your bottom lip.

"Open."

Lips parting, you watch in awe as he takes a long drag, eyes never leaving you for a second. He leans forward, mouth full of smoke as his lips hover above yours and then blows. Gently, it seeps between your teeth and fills your mouth, coating your skin in a haphazard mess. Your warmth pours into him as he holds your jaw steady, and it's then that he realizes he can't hold back.

Sparks flying, his discarded cigarette flies through the air as he flicks it away, lips crashing against yours just as it collides with the ground. Between the nicotine high and the taste of you, it can't be helped when his tongue breaks free from his mouth and into yours. You hum, the vibrations cutting straight into his chest as you wrap your arms around him. That hum quickly turns into a giggle as you prematurely end the kiss.

He huffs as his nose knocks against yours, silently begging for more. Withholding it from him, your hips begin to sway.

"Gonna come back to bed?" you ask.

Before he replies, he steals a quick kiss as his hands wander down to your hips. He pulls you closer, body colliding against him and his growing want.

"I'd never say no to that."

[rivatar]

“Love Bites”

Pairing: Adult!Neteyam x fem!human!reader

W/c: 1.2k

Warnings/content: MDNI smut!, biting/marking, blood thirsty neteyam, a lil somnophilia but not much, established relationship, fingering, demon Teyam

A/n: this is prompt 6 for Pandora’s Bloody Moon, I’m sorry it’s 2 days late, I was so busy this weekend😩 also I’m sorry if it’s not good, it’s def not my best work but still hope you guys can enjoy :)

“I’ll see you tomorrow, paskalin,” Neteyam sweetly bid you goodbye with a peck on the cheek.

“Okay, Teyam,” you softly smiled in return.

He had walked you back to the lab and as much as you both stalled already, it was time to part ways. The upcoming Blood Moon tonight meant an early goodbye for the day. You two have been dating for months now, and the future Olo’eyktan has made it clear he wants to be mates with you, only when you were ready. However, it is not always easy handling your differences between your two species. Like tonight, for example; all the other Na’vi could participate in the night of the Blood Moon but you couldn’t, you’d be ripped apart and possibly killed. So, Neteyam made sure you were safe and sound back in your room in the lab complex well before nighttime settled in. He couldn’t have his little paskalin get eaten by the wolves.

…

Neteyam missed you at dinner but he knew it was for the best. He wanted nothing more than to keep you safe. Safe from the others and even himself. He didn’t know what he would be capable of doing to you. He didn’t even wanna be anywhere near his family, so he set off deep into the forest.

It was now eclipse and the Moon made its appearance. The moonlight made his skin tingle and he watched in bewilderment as his skin faded from azure to a milky gray. Though this happens every year, it never fails to bring an unsettling feeling of not having control over the effects. His breaths quickened and he felt strength and power spread through his limbs, creating the urge to break something. His little bioluminescent freckles turned to red speckles, much like the red irises he now possessed. His brain was processing the physical changes to his body as well as the feelings and urges that flooded his mind. His tongue felt his sharper canines and he thirsted for blood. Not just any blood though, your blood. He imagined your human blood would be much sweeter than anything else here. He knew his right mind was slipping away when his body naturally started carrying him in the direction of you.

…

He forcefully entered the lab and went straight to your room. Opening the door carefully, as to not wake you.

You were peacefully sleeping away, probably having sweet dreams. In the very back of his mind he knew he shouldn’t disturb you— knew he shouldn’t wake you and then watch you be terrified of the way he looked right now. But his instincts consumed him and controlled his thoughts now. He had to have you.

Walking over carefully, he noticed you were wearing a loose tank top, exposing much of your skin. He slowly lifted the cover off of your body and was met with the precious sight of you only wearing panties for bottoms. You were so sweet and small to him, your dainty little night clothes driving him absolutely insane. You were too good to be true in his opinion.

He gently slid his hand over your legs and arms, loving how soft and plush your smooth skin was. You moved some in your sleep, still not noticing him yet. He tried to keep his breathing in control by breathing in his nose and out his mouth quietly.

“So beautiful, yawne,” he whispered admiringly.

He started kneading your flesh, getting extremely aroused by you. He wanted nothing more than to dig his sharp canines into your skin and bite you—hopefully drawing some blood. But he needed you to wake up first so you wouldn’t be scared and flee from him.

He softly shook your form, beckoning you to wake up. You slowly stirred out of your slumber and your eyes blinked open—only to see those red eyes staring back at you. You jumped back at the sight of him and gasped.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay baby, it’s me!” He tried to calm you.

“T-Teyam?” You choked out weakly, “You’re n-not supposed to be here” your mind quickly registered.

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry, but I couldn’t stop myself from coming to see you… you’ll have to forgive me for what I’m going to do”

Your body was stiff and your eyes were full of concern for what he meant and what he might do to you in this state. But you slowly nodded as you relaxed some because it was still your Teyam and you trusted him.

“You look so pretty, baby,” he cooed while stroking your cheek tenderly. You smiled in return, still feeling a bit hesitant.

Then suddenly he leaned back down to your thighs and latched his teeth onto one of them.

“Teyam!!!!” You flew up to sit upright on the bed and looked at him. The pain of his canines impaling your skin combined with the pleasurable feeling of his warm mouth overwhelmed the nerves on your skin.

He only hummed and moaned on your flesh in response. You slightly winced, still staring at him in bewilderment. Then he smoothed his tongue over the wound, licking away the blood from the little pricks he made. He pulled back to admire his work, loving how his bite now marked you as his.

“Don’t think I can’t smell you, sevin. You liked it, didn’t you?” He smirked.

You blushed, still feeling confused at the mix of pain and pleasure and how it really did turn you on. You nodded and got out a weak “yeah..”

This only aroused him more. He wanted to see how you’d look writhing under him as he pleasured your pussy while marking other parts of your body. So he lifted your legs up to your chest and slid your panties to the side to see your glistening little cunt.

“Fuck baby. I might have to bite you more from now on,” he gloated.

He slowly pushed a finger into you and you moaned at the sensation, your head already swirling from the intense pleasure he gave you. He started pumping the digit, stating in awe at the mess you made and the loud squelching sounds.

He hovered over you and positioned himself closer to your face, connecting your lips in a needy kiss. You greedily took the kiss, tongues swirling and your lips getting all puffy. He moved down to your neck and latched onto it, pulling out a guttural moan from you. He hummed in the satisfaction of tasting your sweet blood again and it turned him on more, so he mindlessly dry humped your side and the bed, dying to get some kind of friction for his cock.

His efforts made you cum on his fingers, spewing out whimpers and moans in the process. He was still cleaning your neck wound while you were coming down from the high.

It seemed that having a taste of you only made him want more.

It was going to be a long night.

Taglist: @neteyamssyulang @bambithewriter @professional-yapper @property-of-neteyam @hidden-snow @live-laugh-neteyam @nonamevenus @loakstahni @ikeyniofthetayrangi @sugarsong78 @inolaphoenix @strongheartneteyam

[ettawritesnstudies]

Etta's Guide to Writeblr (March 2023)

So you fled here from Twitter/TikTok... Where to start?

Welcome to Writeblr! Pull up a chair, open those documents, and pour yourself a cup of your favorite tea, coffee, or cocoa. The first thing you'll want to do is start following other writers. Check out this post for recommendations! Search through the notes to find hundreds more. Since I made that post, a bunch of people mentioned they're lurking and still trying to figure out tumblr, so I thought I'd make this post to help people get settled.

How to set up your blog

Make your blog name something not resembling a pornbot - it can be whatever you want, anything fun goes, just not [name###]. If you include "writer" or "author" somewhere in the url it makes it easier to spot writeblrs at a glance but it's not a requirement

Change your profile to something that's not the default, Make sure you have a blog title, and add a little description in your blog header if you feel like it!

Make a pinned post introducing yourself (pls don't use your real name or any IDing information for privacy's sake, this isn't facebook), a short summary of your WIPs, and links if you have an author's website/newsletter/ao3/etc. You can check my pinned post for an example

Make intro posts for each WIP! You can spruce these up with graphics (canva and unsplash are both great free resources to make edits/moodboards), excerpts, lists of tropes, character intros, etc. Link to the WIP intro in your pinned post so it's easy to find! You can update these as often as needed

If you want to make character intros, go wild. If you can't draw, piccrew is a great option. Just start talking about your WIP!

Come up with a tagging system to keep your blog organized. I recommend individual wip tags or at least one for your original writing in general so it's easy to search for your work on your blog

Keep track of Taglists for your WIPs. Whenever you post a new thing about your story, tag the people who asked to be notified to make sure they see it! Only tag people who ask to join the taglist, but it's a good way to keep track of interest. It's normal to have multiple taglists for each story+ one general writing taglist.

How to make writer friends

Reblog their work and add nice comments, either in the tags, comments, or the reblog itself People notice regulars in their notes and appreciate the attention. I promise it's not weird to compliment a total stranger

If that's too intimidating, community events are your friend!

Weekly Ask Games: These are weekly events that are loosely themed where writers send each other asks about their WIPs! The most common are Storyteller Saturday (about the writing process), Blorbsday (aka Blorbo Thursday about characters), and Worldbuilding Wednesday (about the setting of your story). If you answer these late, nobody really cares, but it's a fun way to receive prompts and learn more about other people's stories.

Ask Games/Memes: These are posts with lists of questions you can reblog from other people, sometimes themed or listed with emojis. It's common courtesy to send an ask from the list to the person you reblog it from, then people can send you questions as well, so you can talk about your stories! You can search for dozens of them

Tag games: There's a ton of different types of tag games, but basically someone @s you with a challenge/question, you reblog with your answer, and then @ a bunch of other people to continue the chain. Some common ones are Heads Up 7s Up (share the last 7 lines of your WIP), Last Line Tag (share the last line you wrote), and Find the Words (ctrl+f the given words in your doc and share the results, then give new words).

Formal events: These are community wide participation challenges organized by certain blogs! @writeblrsummerfest is every July?? August? I think? It's run by @abalonetea a few years strong, and there are daily prompts and ask games! @inklings-challenge is a month-long short story entry for Christian writeblrs. I think there was a valentines event in February. @moon-and-seraph is hosting a pitch week soon! Since these are more organized, it's very easy to find similar blogs and support!

Misc. Notes on using Tumblr

Follow the tags #writeblr and #writeblr community to find other writers, as well as other tags that interest you like #fantasy for example

If you want to bookmark a post to read later, you can like it and/or save it to your drafts

The queue/schedule function is very useful if you want to space out posts or have a backlog to keep your blog running when you get busy. This is good for the community because it gives older posts a chance to be rediscovered! You can change the posting frequency in the settings.

REBLOG YOUR OWN STUFF. People aren't always on at the same times and so it's the best way to account for people with different schedules and timezones. If you're worried about being annoying, you can tag those #self reblog or something similar and other people can filter the tag, but otherwise it's a welcomed and accepted practice.

If your excerpt is pretty long, put it under a cut. On desktop you can do this by selecting the squiggly button on the far right when you make a new paragraph, on mobile type :readmore: then hit enter.

It's polite to add descriptions to images and videos for visually or auditory impaired people. If you don't know how to write descriptions, here's a good resource

In your dashboard settings, it's best to shut off the options "Best Stuff First" and "Based on your Likes". These function as the website algorithm and suppresses the blogs you actually follow, which defeats the purpose of the site, letting the dash be in reverse chronological order. Also turn off Tumblr Live because it's malware as far as anyone's concerned.

Curate your experience, block the trolls, and be nice

Update for March 2024

How to shut off AI Scraping on your blog

Go to settings and find the Visibility tab

Scroll down to the tag that says "Prevent Third-Party Sharing"

Turn that knob over so that Automattic can't steal your work for their language training model databases >_<

The other settings will just hide your blog from search engines so they're useful for hiding from nosy parents or other Tumblr users but if you're trying to build an author platform you can leave them off.

Again, welcome to the community! I hope you have a ton of fun!

[stories-and-chaos]

Shrike: The Deal with Niffty

[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” Ace x ace relationship, both parties are moderately sex favorable. Prompted by @clearly-awkward and after some theory crafting with my wife, here we are!]

[One shot, word count 1558, Cw: consensual bondage]

———————

The late 1950’s. Rock and roll was starting to dominate the airwaves, even in Hell. Jazz, swing, and even the blues were being requested less at the clubs you performed at. So you started listening to this newest style to see if it fit your voice, but there weren’t many songs that grabbed you yet.

You were a performer, not a composer. You didn’t have the gift for lyrics. Rather, you had an ear for what appealed and were able to infuse your passion into what you sang. You could tell what people liked about rock and roll, but so far you hadn’t found the song to draw you into the genre.

Music was the topic of discussion for you and Alastor on your way back from lunch with Vox. It wasn’t a business lunch; Alastor hated the concept of discussing intense business over a meal. And Vox was always intense. Your husband still didn’t care for television but it was hard not to respect Vox’s ability.

As you walked leisurely through the streets of Pentagram City, you started hearing a scuttling noise behind you. With the myriad of demons around it wasn’t an unusual sound. But the sound kept following you. You could tell Alastor heard it too by his ears twitching. The rapid patter was joined by giggles and snippets of a voice saying “bad boy.”

After a few blocks you had enough. You let go of Alastor’s arm to turn down a cross street. He gave you a quizzical look but continued walking as you pressed a talon to your lips and made a shooing motion. Not far behind him ran a tiny demon. You heard her say “baaaaad booooooyyy” as she scurried along. Annoyed, you picked her up by the back of her dress.

You weren’t particularly tall but even you dwarfed this demon. She squealed as you lifted her into the air, all her limbs flailing so fast you could barely see them. “Noooooo! The bad boy’s getting awaaaaayyyy!” She spun slowly at the end of your arm; after a few seconds you could see the giant red-orange eye dominating her face, tears gathering at both sides. Her pupil spun wildly as she tried to keep looking at Alastor while facing you.

“If by ‘bad boy’ you mean the tall red demon, ma petite, that’s my husband. So find your own.” You dropped her back to the ground as she sniffled. You caught up to Alastor as the little cyclops started bawling in the street.

“Goodness cher, whatever did you say to the little thing?”

“I simply informed her that you’re my ‘bad boy,’ darling.”

You thought that would be the end of it, but the little demon kept popping up to stalk Alastor whenever he went out. You sent her packing when you could catch her, but after that first time she proved to be rather slippery. You ended up having to create little whirlwinds to sweep her away; the downside was she seemed to like that.

Alastor for his part, merely let things play out between you two. He seemed amused by both the little Sinner’s obsession and your jealousy. “I’m surprised you haven’t done away with her yet, cher,” he mentioned while the two of you lingered over breakfast one day.

“Mmm, as annoying as it is, she’s not exactly a threat.” You took a sip of coffee. “Although if she keeps it up I might end up killing her regardless.”

Alastor hummed quietly as he speared another piece of raw venison. “Perhaps we should do something about the situation then. I’d hate for you to bloody your talons over so minor a thing as annoyance.”

That day, you let the cyclops follow Alastor for longer than usual. Which meant she got much closer than before. Close enough that you could snap her up in a miniature whirlwind and grab her much like the first time. Once you had a grip on her poodle skirt, Alastor surrounded you all with his shadows.

She didn’t seem scared at all by the sudden darkness. Instead you heard giggles as your husband moved the three of you to the bayou in your home. The spot he picked was screened by trees, concealing the fact that it was connected to your front room.

Once the shadows released you all, the demon in your hand started running in air, trying to get to Alastor. “Well my dear, you certainly are stubborn.” He grabbed her shirt back to hold her at his eye level. “Now then, what might your name be, ma petite?”

“I’m Niffty! It’s nice to meet you!”

“Alright Niffty, why do you keep following my husband around? You keep coming back no matter what I do,” you said sharply.

She giggled more. “I like bad boys and he’s the baddest boy I’ve ever seen.” She flailed her arms and started grasping her hands in his direction.

Alastor quirked an eyebrow at her. “Despite my darling wife’s disapproval? And all the times she’s forced you away?”

“I like being forced!” came her prompt reply. “And for a lady, she’s fuuuun,” Niffty continued. You and Alastor exchanged a glance of confusion. This discussion was taking an unexpected turn.

“And what did you plan on doing once you got to the ‘bad boy?’” you asked, curiosity overcoming annoyance.

Her one dark pupil bounced between the two of you. “Make a deal,” she stated immediately, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I can’t let the baddest boy get away.”

Neither of you had anyone approach you for a deal before. You offered something they thought they needed desperately, and received compensation in return. Sometimes it was a soul, sometimes it was an item or service. The deals that didn’t immediately involve a soul were to lay the groundwork for ensnaring the other party later. Sell one thing to a dealmaker and you’re more willing to sell again later.

But a demon just walking up to anyone, much less the Radio Demon, to make a deal out of the blue…this Niffty just kept surprising you. “What kind of deal? What do you want from it?”

She shrugged. “Whatever he wants. The deal is the important part, you guys can decide what it’s for. I just wanna belong to the baddest boy.” She grinned wildly, her attention mostly on Alastor.

His smile stretched in return. “Well this sounds entertaining. What do you think, cher?”

You motioned for him to put Niffty at your eye level. Once he obliged you looked at her sternly. “You’re not a homewrecker, are you?”

She just giggled again. “Nope! Working for you both sounds much more fun.” You leaned back and held you hands out. “She wants a deal with you, Alastor darling. I’ll leave things to you.”

“Thank you Y/N.” He set Niffty onto the mossy ground and twirled his cane in thought. “Hmmm, well Niffty dear, I have a proposition for you. I’ll give you my protection and you give me your soul, to be at my beck and call. Do we have a deal?” He leaned down, right hand extended and radiating a green glow.

Her eye shined as Alastor laid out his terms. She grabbed his hand with both of hers as she replied “Yes! It’s a deal, Alastor!” The green glow became a collar and chain that latched onto her neck. Unlike every other deal you’d seen, once the collar was on she twirled gleefully repeating “thank you thank you thank youuuu!”

At least until it faded, becoming insubstantial until Alastor needed it. “Hey, where’d it go?” She started to sniffle, making Alastor blink in surprise.

“It’s still there my dear, but you can’t really do much for us if it’s always manifested,” your husband said, sounding oddly gentle to the little cyclops. That just made her tear up however. Alastor floundered, completely out of his depth now.

You clapped your hands together once, inspiration striking. “Cher, can I have your handkerchief?” Confused, he handed you the black square of cloth. Like all his handkerchiefs, you had embroidered his name in gold thread in one corner. “Niffty, ma petite, come here and we’ll try this.” She perked up and skittered next to where you kneeled down.

You showed her the embroidery, explaining that you’d sewn it. You folded it diagonally so the name wasn’t immediately obvious. Then you wrapped it around her neck, tying the points together just snug enough that she couldn’t slip it over her head. You grasped the knot and put just a bit of wind magick into it. “There we go. Now try to undo the knot.”

Niffty reached for it with both hands; they were immediately blown back by a gust. Her eye widened as she tried again and her hands were repelled just as fast. “Eeeehuhuhuheeeeee!” she giggled, trying again. “It’s perfect. Thank you Y/N!”

“Wonderful! Now let’s get some refreshments and go over your new duties Niffty.” Alastor helped you to your feet and led the way into the ‘house’ section of your house.

With that your husband gained a very loyal housekeeper for you both. He did have to forbid her from trying to clean the bayou, as she’d gladly spend days trying. She was allowed to hunt bugs there to her heart’s content.

@whitewolfsoldat @edgyboi10000 @ch3sire-blu3 @clearly-awkward @badatpunz @bengewatch @chewbrry

[primejourney]

Greetings!

Here is my drawing for the LESSONS prompt (late by a few days). I wanted to take my time with things since I was having so much fun with it :D

I wanted an excuse to draw Ingo is his butler outfit, and “lessons” immediately reminded me of how he asked Darach for butler advice in Pokémon Masters! (…I have never actually played that game lol. I like watching the juicy lore bits on YouTube >D>;)

Even though he stated he felt he didn’t have much to teach, I like to think he gave Ingo some pointers (especially since Ingo really thought he needed it! But little does he know, he’s already quite a natural haha)

More comments under the cut

I’m also not sure if this is in character for Ingo, but I was too tempted to try more extreme expressions on his muppet face XD I get the vibe he might tend to overthink things at times, given how in the game he discussed thinking hard about the future (which is why he has adopted the “keep moving forward and see what the future brings!” ideals…perhaps Emmet had his own way of overthinking things as well, given how hard he thought about singing as a butler or not lol). And I tend to be one myself XD so it felt a bit cathartic to draw I suppose

Oh! It was also fun to see how a little bit of @choochooboss ‘s art style bled into my drawing. I really adore the way this artist draws them (really, it inspired me a lot to start drawing again!). ChooChoo, you really make them look so darn handsome! <3

[its-all-papaya]

about the kiss prompts. I'd love to read about landoscar for 5 *and* 6 - a kiss where it hurts and where it doesn't hurt. I think that would go amazing together. I was thinking about the emotional kind of hurt but please do whatever feels right :)

heyyyyy this is like. not the emotional kind of hurt. but i saw everybody writing kid fic landoscar on the feed and i had to join in or die, so have 1.5k of fluffy, sappy singledad!lando.

send me a ship and a number and i will write a kiss

5. where it hurts & 6. where it doesn't hurt | landoscar | 1.5k

Lando’s been in love with Oscar for months already the first time he hears “I love you.”

It’s the kind of late-summer hot that burns off in the early evening, leaving you shivering and wondering when it started. Lando’s in the kitchen at his sister’s place, elbow deep in dishwater, as him mum prattles on about the very expensive wedding of the daughter of a neighbor Lando doesn’t remember from his childhood home.

“Personalized, engraved wine glasses,” she’s saying as he hands off another plate he’s rescued from the murky bottom of the sink so she can dry it. The window in front of them is thrown open so they can keep an eye on the backyard, where the rest of the family is nursing the last of the drinks they’d opened with dinner. Tied off to the fence posts, Lando’s niece’s birthday balloons float gently with the breeze that carries the sounds of a half-dozen conversations in for them to gather pieces of. If he listens hard enough, Lando can pick out his favorite accent from among them, several ticks off from the rest of the crowd’s English. It’s warm in Lando’s chest, the way Oscar has settled so easily today. He hadn’t been worried, but it’s the first time Lando’s brought him around to a whole family event like this – all three of them, Lando, Oscar and Emma – and everything has gone so remarkably smoothly.

“Insane, isn’t it?” His mum asks, drawing Lando’s attention back to the kitchen.

“Extravagant,” Lando agrees to appease her. He’s only halfway through sponging off the next handful of silverware when his focus is snatched right back up by the familiar, gut-tug sound of his daughter crying.

“Shit,” he says then as he scans the backyard through the screen to seek her out among his various relatives. It figures that she’d be fine all day while Lando was around, and the minute he’d ducked in to help with the washing, she’d find her way to trouble. His mum’s already handed off her dish towel for Lando to dry his palms with and he’s half-turned towards the door, cutlery abandoned back to the suds, when he finally spots Emma. She’s just reached three feet (on the small side for three-years-and-a-few-months old, but that was always going to happen with the genes Lando’d given her), so it’s mainly her curly head he can see as she runs back from the swings towards the patio, where the adults are all gathered.

“Gonna-” Lando hooks a thumb over his shoulder for his mum’s benefit, eyes still trained on his girl. Emma hits the group and skips right past the lost look he’d been expecting when she realized he wasn’t there, though, skips right over missing Lando and straight ahead to-

“Oscar,” she whines, arms outstretched and voice high like it gets when she’s upset. Lando watches from the kitchen as his boyfriend kicks off the wall to kneel next to her. He’s got half a beer still in one hand, but the other goes to Emma’s back as she falls into his shoulder. Lando’s heart feels racing and stopped all at the same time as he watches Oscar murmur to her, too low for him to hear across the garden.

It's a minute before she’s coaxed back up out of his chest. Her face is still red and teary, nose twitching, but she offers her hands out when Oscar asks for them. Lando’s stopped moving completely, frozen with the dish towel wrapped between his fingers.

“Can I see?” he picks up from the distance. Oscar smooths his thumb into the middle of Emma’s hand until she flexes her fingers out for him, displaying palms full of grass bits.

“Fell,” she gets out between little hiccupping sobs. Oscar sets his drink aside so he can tug her closer without letting go of her hand.

“Well, that’s no good. Can I help?” he asks and it’s soft, it’s tender, it makes Lando himself want to cry for an entirely different reason.

She nods. Her head falls sideways, back onto Oscar’s shoulder, as he brushes the dirt and grass away. Then he purses his lip to blow the last of the dust off and smacks a kiss right in the center of her hand, playing it up loud enough to make Emma smile about it through the last of her tears.

“Oscar!” she says again, all giggles this time. Lando’s heard Oscar laugh about the way Lando pronounces his name, but it’s only when Emma says it, his own accent in miniature, that he sees what there is to grin about. She seems to be mostly cured of the panic, but in the next moment Oscar scoops her up anyway, settling her on his hip and checking that she’s chilled out as he returns to his conversation. Everything keeps moving around them.

“So,” Lando’s mum says. He jumps a little, having forgotten where he was.

“Um.” Lando says back. She’s smiling like a maniac at the side of his head. “I’m gonna-” he repeats, same thumb motion as a minute ago. He departs for real this time, though, depositing the towel back in her hands as he goes.

“Hey,” he breathes out when he’s reached Oscar’s corner of the patio. He’s not sure where to put his attention first, honestly, a little overwhelmed, so he curls a hand around Oscar’s hip with one hand and tucks Emma’s hair behind her ear with the other. “All sorted?”

“All sorted,” Oscar agrees. He tilts his head to meet Emma’s eyes, eyebrows raised like he’s waiting for her to sign off as well.

“All better,” she confirms. She doesn’t reach for Lando, though.

Oscar’s gaze is still focused on her when he says, “Just wanted a little cuddle before going back to play, right? Nothing serious.” He shifts Emma slightly in his arms and she turns her face into his shoulder for a second, like she’s embarrassed he’d tell on her that way.

“Good plan,” Lando says, tucking her hair back once again.

“Just like dad,” Oscar adds, and Lando definitely can’t find room inside of himself to be embarrassed – not with the way his chest is all cozy, like a dryer-warmed blanket.

“Oscar gives a good cuddle,” he agrees instead.

There’s a beat of silence: Lando looking at Oscar, Oscar looking at Emma, Emma looking back and forth between the two of them and the swing set, where her cousins are still playing.

“I’m ready,” she decides finally. She plants her palm on Oscar’s opposite shoulder and leans back in his arms so she can look him in the face instead.

“Great!” Oscar says.

“Emma,” Lando says, “say thanks to Osc, yeah? For fixing you up?”

“Thanks, Oscar!” she chirps, agreeable. Then she smacks a kiss against his cheek, a match to the one on her own palm, and says, “I love you!” as he sets her down, easy as anything.

Like she’s said it a thousand times. Like it’s not anything, like it’s just a fact of her life.

Lando watches her run off with a hand on his own cheek, half over his mouth. He knows he must look insane in one direction or the other, the way his eyes are watering and he’s smiling to hide how his heart is beating triple-time inside of his chest. But Oscar just slides an arm around his waist, drawing Lando in close to his side.

“Sorry if that was-”

“No,” Lando stops Oscar before he can even start. “That was, like…” precious, Lando thinks, more than I ever expected.

It's just... there were days after Emma’s mum was gone, when he was alone with his baby, that he’d stayed up at night and stared at her even after she’d finally gone down for him; days where he’d wondered whether either of them would ever get to say the words to anybody else. There were moments, nights, weeks on end where everything felt scary, and the thought of bringing a whole extra person into their lives was impossible to entertain, more work than it was worth no matter how badly Lando yearned for it. And there were times with Oscar, even, early on, where Lando had hesitated against his lips mid-snog on the couch and despite all the burgeoning something in his own heart, thought: selfish.

He’s never felt further from it all, though, watching Emma jump from the apex of her swing’s trip up towards the sky. She’s never been afraid for long. Comes by it honestly, Lando thinks as he buries a smile against Oscar’s shoulder.

“That was…?” Oscar prompts into Lando’s hair. He’d pressed a kiss there a moment ago and never moved.

“That was really important,” Lando settles on, still misty eyed.

Oscar’s palm does a quick pass up and down his spine before wrapping back around to squeeze Lando in half a hug, “Okay, though? I didn’t overstep or anything?”

“No,” Lando’s laughing then, still a bit wet, as he dislodges Oscar’s chin from the top of his head, “Can’t believe she loves you, holy shit.”

Oscar smiles down at him, “Just like her dad?”

“Just like her dad,” Lando confirms, then presses his own sweet smile right into Oscar's lips.

[zoeykallus]

The Bad Batch/ Mayday/Rex x Reader Prompts – Confessions

Part 5/7 - Wrecker

Warnings: Hurt/Angst/Comfort/Fluff/Love Confessions

Masterlist

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

This is a continuation of this request :

The Bad Batch/ Mayday/Rex x Reader Prompts – Confessions

Wrecker

Wrecker is actually very open and easy to talk to. He is neither particularly reserved nor aloof. Nevertheless, you haven't yet dared to tell him openly how much you like him. You feel that he might like you as much as you like him, but you're not sure. The thought that you could open up to him and be wrong keeps you from confessing your deep affection for him. You are startled out of your thoughts when you hear a familiar, beloved sound; Wrecker's rumbling laughter. Apparently he's been playing a trick on Crosshair again, because the Sniper runs past you, jaws grinding, curses coming from between clenched teeth. Wrecker appears on the ramp, laughing and calling after his brother, “Come on, it was just a harmless joke” Crosshair keeps walking and growls, “Go to hell” You giggle and ask, “Oh Wrecker, what have you done again?” Your heart skips a beat as his attention turns to you, and you see his mischievous smile. “Can't you smell that?”

You blink in confusion and draw your brows together critically, but then you smell it, a very intense floral scent suddenly seems to be in the air, a scent that Crosshair seems to be dragging behind him. You laugh softly, “You've replaced his aftershave with what seems to me to be a very intense, rather feminine scent” Wrecker grins from ear to ear. You sigh softly and say gently reprovingly, “Wrecker, Cross has a date today, as far as I know he really likes the person he's going out with and if he doesn't want to be late, he won't have time to get rid of the wrong scent” “Oh,” says Wrecker a little sheepishly, “that's why he's so angry” You think this could be a brilliant segue, and with your heart suddenly racing, you ask, “Speaking of dates, how about the two of us?” The moment you say the words, you want to sink into the ground. That was far too blunt, too direct, and you actually wanted to say something completely different. But it just slipped out of you. Wrecker's reaction doesn't really help. At first, he just stares at you, perplexed; it's a long, uncomfortably silent moment, and you feel like you're frozen in motion, unable to even change your expression, which is terrible, because you feel like there's a stupid, nervous grin on your lips.

Suddenly, Wrecker bursts out laughing, pats you on the back and continues on his way. “That was a good one!” he says with a rumbling laugh. A humorless little laugh escapes your lips: “Hahaha, yeah, hilarious” You watch Wrecker disappear around the corner. You let your shoulders slump with a sigh. This is not at all what you had in mind. Discouraged, you hang your head. It's not a nice feeling that's spreading through your chest right now. Tech's voice suddenly snaps you out of your gloomy thoughts. “Judging by your body language, you're either very tired or very unhappy” You turn to him, startled, and pull your shoulders back up. With raised eyebrows, Tech comments, “Now you're trying to pretend. You were probably about to tell me you were just a bit tired. Am I right?” Tech had started to learn more about posture some time ago, to read between the lines. However, he still did this in his very direct way every time. When you don't answer him, he asks, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

You shrug your shoulders. You would actually like to talk to someone about it, but you're not sure if Tech is the right person to talk to. Nevertheless, you put him in the picture, explaining that Wrecker has either misunderstood you or is not interested in you or a date with you. “It's easy to find out,” says Tech almost cheerfully with a small, satisfied smile, because he's sure he has the solution to your problem. “Oh yeah?” you ask cautiously. The next moment your heart almost stops, because Wrecker is back outside on the landing platform and Tech calls him over to you, “Wrecker, why don't you come and join us for a moment?” You don't have time to object or to make a hasty escape without making a fuss, so you stand rooted to the spot. “What's up?” Wrecker asks happily, glancing from one to the other. Tech says before you can think of anything appropriate to say, “There's been a misunderstanding between you two that needs to be resolved” Wrecker looks at you, puzzled. “Oh yeah?”

You clear your throat and want to say something, but Tech beats you to it again. “When you were asked for a date earlier, it was a serious question” You feel like your heart is going to stop at any moment. Wrecker looks so surprised and confused that you can't even guess where this is going. “Really?” he asks, looking at you. You're so nervous that you don't trust your own voice and just nod. Tech, pleased with himself, pushes his goggles up the bridge of his nose with his index finger and says, “I think my work here is done. You're welcome.” Wrecker and you watch Tech for a moment as he goes his way. It takes you a while to look nervously at each other. He grins cautiously at you, scratches the back of his head nervously and stammers, “The night's supposed to be starry tonight, we could have a picnic on the mountain, look at the stars.” “Is that an invitation to a date?” you ask with a slowly widening smile. Wrecker shrugs his shoulders a little helplessly, “Yeah, sure. Do you like that sort of thing?”

“I like everything I can do with you,” you say, beaming. Wrecker beams back and says enthusiastically, “Then we'll do the picnic tonight, take candles and stuff. And on the weekend we could go to the fair!”

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

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@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

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@cpnt616

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@antishadow2021

@sleepycreativewriter

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@1vlouds

@clonelovr

@ivyyyyy

[trexdrabbles]

I would absolutely die for a little Gambit drabble with #5 from that prompt list!

I have been absolutely dying to do one of these so thank you! (Fem reader since nothing was specified!)

NSFT under the cut!

#5 - "Let me take care of you, yeah? I'll do the work."

It had been a long day. Long day, long week, long month. Work had been getting just uncomfortably busy as of late, and you just had to keep reminding yourself that every evening spent away from home and every weekend tacked on too was only adding to your bank account and the reserve of compensatory time off you had been saving up. A few more weeks of this and you'd finally be done with the worst of it all and swore you were going to take a whole month off, and sleep straight through the first week of it. Even with the finish line in sight though, you needed a break, and badly at that.

And you weren't the only one who seemed to think so.

Remy had been a little busier on his end of things too, but not enough so as to not notice how you practically dragged yourself through the door each day, or sounded absolutely dead when you were on call with him. Today had seemed particularly rough, coming home late on a Saturday evening, short pumps in your hand that you had taken off before even driving home and had just carried up the driveway with you. But with all that misery was the littlest glimmer of hope in the fact that you had the next day off. A lovely little blip in your hellish schedule and god did you intent to make the most of it.

Cuddling with your boyfriend had definitely been prominent on your mind as a good place to start and had honestly kept you going through the final half of your work day. Opening the door to confirm that he was actually, in fact, there had been quite the blessing too. Realistically you knew he wouldn't take off without at least a text shot your way at the bare minimum, but seeing him there with your own two eyes just cemented the knowledge that you were going to finally have a damn good day off.

"Lookin' good, but ain't lookin' too hot," he commented, glancing up from whatever he had been doing on his phone, looking you over with something close to sympathy that only grew closer when you answered him with an exceptionally eloquent groan that perfectly conveyed 'I almost wish I had just been hit by a car on the way home so I wouldn't have to deal with this anymore'.

"I feel like death," you announced, dropping your poor shoes unceremoniously right beside the door and then kicking them a little further away from the entry for good measure.

"Already got dinner goin'. Be done soon."

That was enough to lift a little extra weight off of your shoulders as well and you sighed for it.

"That's why I love you," you murmured, drawing close to press a small smattering of kisses to his lips and cheek before figuring you'd go and change before sitting down to eat.

"Love me for plenty a' reasons," Remy retorted between kisses, smile permanently affixed to his lips throughout.

"Mmm, no, just that one," you teased, laughing slightly when he caught you around the waist to keep you from wandering too far off.

"Just gotta remind you a' the rest, don't I?" You knew exactly where he was going with that and admittedly it sounded pretty damn good, but you were already struggling with wanting to stay awake as it was.

You leaned in to give him one more kiss before moving to step back again. "You can remind me tomorrow."

Your efforts to go and change clothes were once again thwarted by his grip tightening a touch more and when you glanced back at him, his smile had lost its teasing edge.

"C'mon chère; let Remy take care a' you, yeah? Been runnin' yourself down, let me do the work tonight."

Fuck, if that didn't get you.

Somehow dinner was enjoyed at a relatively normal pace before he was dragging you off to your room, dishes to be ignored until tomorrow. Remy kept up with his words too, hardly letting you lift a finger as he grabbed a change of sleep clothes for you and helped you out of your work clothes. You had thought just immediately crashing with your entire body tangled around him would be a perfect end for the night, and that was entirely off from what was happening now. Though admittedly, being stretched out on your bed, thighs locked around his head and fingers curled into his hair as his tongue pressed expertly into you, lapping up everything you had to give and then some was an even better option.

[sadcatprince]

I forgot I already started drawing this and wrote out the whole scenario... uh oops?

I did a combination of the two prompts for day 6 (which I'm surprised I didn't do more ngl). So this one is Time Travel AND Protectiv rolled together. Enjoy the doodle and bonus(?) pentadrabble below the cut.

This is implied to be a hate crime and Vlad kind of gestures at the AIDS crisis if your sensitive to things like that.

This was bad, Danny was supposed to be keeping contact to a minimum and keeping an eye out for the ghost trying to undo his existence. Now he was following a college aged Vlad, who was trying his absolute hardest to ignore Danny. After a few blocks he reeled on Danny though, wincing and letting out an audible grunt of pain as he landed on his injured ankle. 

Danny could see the damage to his face more clearly now as if glared up at him. Vlad's right cheek was swollen and already an ugly mottled purple. His lip was split but it had stopped bleeding already. “Look, man, I'm glad you helped me but you need to stop following me!” 

The idea made Danny tense and he rejected it down to his core. “No way. That was like five guys. If they jump you again they could kill you. I'm not leaving until I see you get into your dorm.”

At least then he knew dad would be able to keep an eye on him. Probably help him with that nasty black eye. Danny pushed away the thought of doing that himself. Vlad probably wasn't even going to let dad help, honestly. Vlad was giving him a suspicious look, his other eye narrowing to match the one neatly swollen shut. “Wait, how do you know I live in a dorm?”

Oh, fuck. Vlad looked ready to bolt. He needed a lie. Fast. He looked around and smiled sheepishly, “I guess I just assumed, you're the right age, you have a backpack… we’re heading toward the campus?” 

Vlad looked unconvinced. “Okay. I still don't need a bodyguard. I'm perfectly capable of getting back home myself.” 

“You can barely walk.” Danny countered. 

That seemed to make something snap in Vlad. He took an aggressive step forward then swore in pain and stumbled. Danny caught him easily. That just made Vlad more irate. He shoved at Danny hard, “Why do you even care? You don't even know me!” 

It was true. At least from Vlad’s perspective. It wasn't like Danny could tell him the truth. If Danny was honest with himself it was true in the “present” too. It seemed like the older he got the more he realized he didn't know Vlad at all. Even worse was the fact that it hurt more every time it hit him. If only he could go on pretending he didn't know why.

Danny sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, you're right. I don't know you but I think I want to.”

Vlad shifted uncomfortably. He looked ready to try running again and his cheeks were getting redder. He’d started pulling his backpack between them like a shield. “I… I don’t know what you heard those guys saying but I’m NOT like that okay? Even if I was watching the news, I'm not going to sleep with some stranger!” 

“Wait that isn't what I m-” It was too late Vlad had thrown his backpack and started running, despite his clearly sprained ankle.

Danny followed him out of sight after that.

End

[devondespresso]

Surprise, Bitch Babe!

T | 691 words | ao3 to be added eventually? probably | Established Steddie, Eddie is a goofy menace | cws: minor blood, minor slapstick violence, rated t for swearing

STWG prompt: "surprise" because its the guild's birthday and i want a gold star dammit dhndnhdgn

Thanks to @tinytalkingtina for helping me speed up the ruminating process by a lot xhmxnhxnh

Graphics by @/steddiecameraroll-graphics

It happens fast. Too fast. 

And that is Eddie's downfall…

Despite his tendency towards loud dramatics, Eddie knows how to be quiet. How to go slow, how to watch, listen, and wait, keep his breath quiet and his steps light. Imperceptible as he lingers out of sight. Out of mind.

It’s a skill, honed from hours upon hours—days, even—of practice. Of dedication. Commitment to his cause, to his vision.

Eddie has failed this kind of task before. He’s slipped up, breathed too loud, made floorboards creak and shoes squeak. But lately, he’s done everything right, only to still be foiled at the last second by the sheer mastery of his opponent’s skill.

With any other adversary, he’s reigned victorious. But not this one. Not yet.

But tonight, Eddie is ready. He has seen the power of his opponent, acknowledged his finesse, his skill, analyzed his methods, the technique behind such innate, unyielding power.

What Eddie needs is speed. His perfectly silent, perfectly invisible stealth, and speed.

Eddie pads over from their bedroom to the kitchen, practically floating towards their arena, socks and soft carpet aiding his descent. 

He hovers by the wall just behind its corner, careful not to brush it, not even with the flannel of his pants or the hairs on his arm. He’s deliberate, careful, and precise.

The sink is running, aiding Eddie’s cause but not enough to start slacking. He listens to the sound of the water, hears the way its echo changes as something is brought under the stream. And as he busies himself with it, Eddie moves.

Eddie slips over, light and careful, avoiding the places he knows will creak—will ruin everything for him for the next week or more—bypasses the island, his second hiding place, because time is against him, because every second in the arena is chance for Steve to ‘feel’ him lurking, so Eddie doesn’t give him that time, marries waiting with speed to finally draw his own upper-hand.

Eddie is next to him and Steve notices, he shifts slightly, feels Eddie’s presence with a jolt but he’s too late, Eddie is already beside him—having finally won their longsuffering battle of wit—leaning his face in with a triumphant grin.

“Boo.”

It happens so fast.

Eddie gets a glimpse of Steve’s eye’s, hardened by fear, and before Eddie can think, can even register that expression, his back is hitting the island counter behind him, and he is the one left senseless: deafened by clattering in the sink and blinded by watery eyes and pain blooming from his face.

“Eddie– fucking—” Steve huffs, breathless but the shoulders of Steve’s watery silhouette drop.

Eddie nods out of reflex, blinking and bringing one hand up to his face.

“You fucking– god, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He can feel something kinda running in his nose. He brings his hand up and feels under it but doesn’t feel anything dripping out of it yet, so he guesses that must be good.

Steve lets out a deep sigh, relaxing as much as he probably can, before his silhouette dips out of sight for a few seconds and returns with a small box of tissues. Eddie grabs one, scrunching it under his nose to catch whatever blood wants to fall. 

“What the hell did you think would happen?”

“I didn’t.” Eddie said, pulling the tissue back to check it, then putting it back again.

“Didn’t.”

“Think.” Eddie said, smiling a little to himself and hoping the tissue would hide it.

Steve looked at him with a classic ‘Are you serious?’ face, brows scrunched, staring him down like prolonged exposure would make Eddie make more sense to him. Which seems to work, as Steve's face melts into resignation as he realizes that yes, Eddie is serious. 

Steve sighs, heavily but not unkindly.

“I'm sorry.” 

“You're okay, I'm sorry, too.” 

Steve smiles a little, still a little worn out and even more incredulous. 

“Thanks.” 

Eddie smiles and checks the tissue again, and he’s definitely bleeding. He catches Steve eyeing the tissue warily, even after Eddie openly looks up at him, until Steve eventually acknowledges his look.

“You're never doing that again.”

“Yeah.” 

[x-emeraldsky-x]

Prompt - Only One Bed

Shikamaru groaned lightly as he walked to the village gate. Per Hokage's orders, he was tasked with housing one of the Hidden Sand's Jounin for a week, and as much of a drag it was, he was grateful only his father was home for the duration. He loved his mother dearly, but he had no intentions of hearing any talk, whether it was about dating, marriage or sex.

The very thought of bringing a woman to his mother shook him to his core, especially a woman like Temari. Temari was very forward, and often she'd lack a filter for the things she'd say. His mother quite easily took offense to things, and Temari's "I-Don't-Give-A-Fuck" nature was surely a horrible mix.

As the gate neared he tried to push his exhaustion away. Temari was a woman in high power, and despite what his younger self would think, Shikamaru respected her quite a lot. It was important to him to look professional in front of her.

Temari was a very intelligent woman. Often her battle strategies had led Sunagakure strongly, she was an amazing leader. Authoritive, but still caring towards the soldiers of Suna. She also showed great skill when it came to puzzles and boardgames, she was one of the few people to come close to beating him competitively. Her dedication to protecting her family was also quite admirable; always rushing in to defend her brothers, even when they were strong enough to do it themselves. She was so full of love, and balanced her work and home life well. Shikamaru admired her strengths greatly.

A light burn on his cheeks brought him out of his thoughts, whether it was a blush or the sun, he wasn't sure, but Temari's voice began to creep to his ears. He had to focus now.

Temari stood talking to a couple guards at the gate, the two that often teased Shikamaru for his apparent "obvious crush", Izumo and Kotetsu. Dreading the embarrassment, he waited for her to finish talking before approaching so they didn't have to stay long.

He muttered a small greeting, ignoring the shit-eating grins from the men beside him, and turned to Temari.

Her eyes carried dark circles, clearly tired from her travels. She had a tendency to get careless and do the whole trip on one nights sleep and a nap, and while Shikamaru found it troublesome, it was the perfect excuse to get home faster.

"Oh! There's the little love bird. It's such a shame he always keeps you waiting. It's already late afternoon!"

"Yeah! Come on, Shikamaru. Have some mercy on the poor girl, she's already stuck with you~"

Temari shook her head, half waving to them while walking off. The two said their goodbyes, and after Shikamaru glared at the them for their immaturity, he started to lead Temari across town.

They went their typical route, passing shops with their keepers trying to draw Temari in with their wears, kids dancing and playing together on the path, and all the usual Shinobi and Kunoichi making their way to their posts. It was relaxing in the only way your hometown could bring, and although Temari wasn't from Konoha, he could see her enjoying it too.

She watched the busy streets with a soft smile, the same smile she gives to her brothers, full of love and admiration. There was a sadness in her eyes, though. The sadness of growing up, or more so, watching your family grow up. Shikamaru didn't understand how it felt, but maybe one day he would.

As the sun began to set, they arrived at the house. Loud talking and slight shouting rustled the walls. Shikamaru groaned, recognising the voices, and slid open the door.

"I'm home, father... and Chouza and Inoichi."

The three men turned to them, raising their glasses and laughing. While Shikamaru and Temari stepped inside and removed their sandals, the room was filled with tipsy greetings.

"Welcome home, son. And, uh... who's your friend?"

"She's uhm, a Jounin. From Suna. She's staying here for a week."

Temari looked around while Shikamaru spoke with his father, grimacing at the smell of alcohol as she passed by. Family photos and clan symbols lined the walls. It was far more cozy than her home at Suna. With both her and Kankuro on missions, and Gaara as the Kazekage, it was practically unlived in.

Bits and pieces of conversation filtered in through her focus, Shikamaru arguing with the three men about their relationship. In a way, it reminded her of her own parents during their love, commenting on any boy she showed interest in and teasing her about crushes. None the less, what Shikamaru said was true. They weren't together, and while she was an adult and he was still 16, they wouldn't be until many years have passed.

Eventually, Shikamaru got fed up with their banter and lead Temari to his bedroom, where she would be staying throughout the trip. It was a small room with a simple double bed, very little furniture inhabited it aside from necessities. It had a door leading to a private bathroom as well.

Exhausted and quite gross from her travels, Temari decided to hit the showers while Shikamaru prepared the room better. Fluffing the pillows and making sure nothing vulgar was out in the open; he was a boy in his late teenage years of course. When he was done, he sat and waited for her on the bed.

The sound of running water covered the loud three man party in the living room, Shikamaru was rather surprised that Ino and Chouji weren't there was well. Usually if one generation of "Ino-Shika-Chou" was present, the other would be too. Maybe his father took pity on him and decided just three people teasing him was enough.

Around five minutes had passed before the water shut off, and Shikamaru prepared to take one himself. The door opened and after one final look around the room, he had a realisation.

"Where are you gonna sleep, Mr. Crybaby?"

He didn't have another place to sleep.

Shikamaru's face began to flush from embarrassment. How did he not plan this out better? He felt like an idiot. Temari's laughter didn't help either.

"I didn't plan this right."

"Clearly," Temari snorted. "But it's fine. I'll sleep on the floor, I have a sleeping bag."

Shikamaru watched her unfurl it, stopping her before she laid down. Temari raised her eyebrow, unimpressed by the contact.

"No. You've had too big of a walk to be sleeping on the floor. Take the bed."

Temari moved her body from his, crossing her arms and looking down at him. It wasn't much of a tactic to intimidate him, only to show her displeasure, but it was affective in both.

"I'm not taking your bed from you."

"I'm not letting you sleep on the floor!"

They went back and forth for a few minutes, both just as stubborn as the other, before Temari gave up.

"Look, if it's that important to you, lets just share the bed. Put pillows in the middle."

Shikamaru grumbled lightly. While he did respected her greatly, she was quite a troublesome person. He swallowed his pride and accepted.

The rest of the evening went smoothly from then on. Shikamaru gathered some food for them while Temari took the time to relax; stretching and easing the tension in her muscles. Shikamaru's matress was soft. It sunk in beneath her weight quite a bit, constantly making the pillow wall fall apart, but it was worth the annoyance after the past few days.

Shikamaru came back with a simple meal. With how fast it came, Temari guessed it was premade. Shikamaru didn't seem like the type to cook, quickly or good, but food was food in the end.

While they ate, Shikamaru looked at Temari closely for the first time since he met with her. She was only wearing a bra and long pants, a good portion of her skin showing, and the most odd thing, she had her hair tied into two rather than four. Her skin looked rough and damaged from wear he sat, he was willing to bet it'd feel just the same, and her body had many healed scars from training and battle. He had heard how harsh Suna's training was, he wondered how many scars were from village people and how many were from enemies.

"Whatdya staring at?"

Shikamaru turned away embarrassed. "Nothing... sorry."

She laughed and shook her head, finishing her food before lying down again.

"You apologise too much."

Shikamaru ate in silence, trying to keep his eyes to himself. She was right in a sense, he apologised a lot when it came to her, something about her nature made him want to, even if it was any other person he'd just shrug it off. Deep down, he knew his father was right. Izumo and Kotetsu too. Naruto, Asuma, Chouza and Inoichi. They were all right. He loved her, he just wasn't ready to admit it.

Temari tossed and turned for a bit trying to get comfortable, settling for laying in her side. Back facing him. Part of him wanted to pull the blanket over her, another part wanted her to hold him close. He settled for taking care of the dishes, trying to pull his mind away from his feelings.

When he returned, snoring had filled the room. Temari's position much more sloppy then when he had left. It was unladylike, but still beautiful. Shikamaru smiled softly, the muscles in his face straining when he tried to stop.

Turning off the light, he crawled into the bed beside her, her body out of sight with the pillows dividing them but the feeling of her body remained. The bed was more comfortable, more warm, and more cozy with her in it, and he quietly wished she could be there longer than a week.

Shikamaru's eyes grew heavy with the warmth, the sound of her snoring made him feel oddly at ease. Usually he hated noise when he was trying to sleep, but there was something about Temari that made it tolerable. She made him feel safe, protected, at home. It was easy to fall asleep by her side.

In the morning, he was sure she'll find a way around sharing a bed, but for now, he'd enjoy her comfort while he could.

[fallenwhumpee]

Prompt by @thatlittlefirestarter:

Leader wants to protect their team from whumper who chase them because of their teammates' powers/abilities. BUT is the only member without any power. During the escape mission whumper promises to themselves that they will catch them and kill leader in the most brutal possibile way in front of their teammates

Bonus: leader wants to sacrifice themselves and lets their team run away from whumper because they know that is coming for them

Surprise

• Masterlist •

Warnings: Superpowers, self-sacrifice, used as a bait, thoughts of death.

To navigate in a world where the powers ruled, you had to have power. Leader was an exception, an anomaly. An anomaly that was still, after everything, alive.

And running for dear life.

Their mind was also running plans as they ran, none of which resulted in their survival. But it was not important. Leader saw one that led to their team's survival, and that was the way they chose to die.

"Right from the first turn," Leader muttered to their earpiece. They were running far behind the team, which was not ideal, but it at least gave a reason to Leader to force the team to leave them behind, even if a little bit. It was enough of an opening that Leader could use when the time came.

Leader could hear Whumper shouting, the narrow halls carrying the sound further than it meant. The base was not very suitable for breaking in and out because of that, but somehow, Leader succeeded in getting inside and was about to secure a way out for their team.

Leader knew they weren't the target, but they were one of the only ways for Whumper to break the team— if the team knew what Whumper was doing to Leader. It was almost impossible since Leader had started a lockdown with no way to cancel, and they had broken the signal suppliers. There was no way to fix it. In a few moments, this base was going to be a tomb for the thousand people still inside.

Except for the team, Leader hoped.

"Down the stairs," Leader instructed through the earpiece. They could hear the team’s heavy breathing and hurried footsteps echoing back. "There's an exit to the south. Keep moving."

They rounded a corner to the left and spotted the shadow of Whumper drawing closer. The base’s dim, flickering red lights cast an eerie glow on the walls, sirens wailing loud enough to hurt their ears.

"I will kill your leader in front of you for this!" Whumper growled.

"Leader, should we slow down?" Right Hand's voice crackled over the earpiece, the worry and desperation almost causing Leader to hesitate.

"I'm right behind you. Just keep going," Leader lied, their heart pounding with the knowledge that they were sealing their own fate. They couldn't let the team know the truth—they had to focus on escaping. With their heart aching, they added. "I'll catch up."

Leader took the stairs up, one that led them deeper into the base. They needed to buy their team the precious time they needed. At least they were sure Whumper would follow. Leader never parted from their team ever since they were stripped of their own powers. If one followed Leader they would reach the team; it was the truth, but not this time. 

They reached a dead end—a storage room. Perfect. Leader slipped inside and left the door open. The sound of footsteps quickened. Whumper was coming. Leader’s breath came in ragged gasps as they prepared themselves. They had one job left; making sure Whumper didn’t realise the team was getting away until it was too late.

"Out and waiting for you, Leader."

Leader breathed, looking at their clock. "I'm sorry," they choked out when the timer hit zero. The loud sound of metal doors falling filled the base, and Leader took out the earpiece as the team began yelling at them. They crushed it with their boots, destroying the only way to contact outside for everyone.

"Surprise!" Leader chirped when they heard the footsteps close.

Whumper slowed down and stepped inside after almost missing the room, a cruel smile spreading across their face. “Caught you at last, Leader.”

"Took you long enough,” Leader said, putting a note of defiance into their voice to hide their fear.

"Where is my prize?"

Leader looked Whumper in the eye, unwavering. “You’ll never find them.”

Whumper snarled and lunged, but Leader was ready. They dove to the side, grabbing a metal pipe from the floor and swinging it with all their might. The pipe connected with a satisfying thud, and Whumper staggered back, momentarily dazed.

Using the brief reprieve, Leader dropped the pipe and dashed out of the storage room, leading Whumper on a wild chase through the maze-like corridors. They could hear Whumper’s angry shouts echoing behind them, but they pushed forward, driven by sheer willpower.

Leader’s only goal was to keep Whumper occupied for as long as possible. They knew the base like the back of their hand due to the leaked blueprints. They used this knowledge to their advantage, weaving through the labyrinthine hallways, always staying just out of reach.

Minutes felt like hours, but finally, Leader’s strength began to wane. They stumbled into a larger chamber, breathing heavily. This was it—the end of the line.

Whumper burst in, fury etched across their face. “Nowhere left to run, Leader.”

Leader straightened, wiping sweat from their brow. “You have nothing else to say than what's obvious?”

"Tell me where my prize is!"

Leader chuckled. "I’d rather die."

Whumper's eyes darkened with rage, and they motioned to the guards waiting at the door. "That can be arranged."

Leader lived longer than they thought. While it didn't mean they wanted to die, there were fates worse than death. “You know,” Leader muttered, their tone casual despite the tension in the air, gripping their throat. “For someone so desperate to win, you sure do take your time. Afraid you can’t handle me on your own?”

Whumper’s face twisted in anger. “You insolent—” they stopped. They took a deep breath and smiled. They talked with a coldness that caused Leader to take a shuddering breath. "You're not important enough for my anger. You're just a small obstacle in the way. But perhaps you can be a way to get my anger over other things out."

[tragedybunny]

Pretty Baby 2

༺Summary༻

Astarion is a brat on several occasions and is duly punished for it. In between, he and Mommy (Fina) deal with some emotional issues.

༺Pairing༻ Astarion x Tav

༺Warnings༻ NSFW - PiV Sex, Anal Play, Femdom, Mommy Kink, Feminization, Forced Orgasm, Chastity Cage, Porn with Feelings, Porn streaming, Pegging, Astarion being a brat

༺Word Count༻ 3783

༺A/N༻

So, it's chapter 2 of a fic I never planned to write. Lol. And somewhow now we've got plot and feelings involved. Hope you all enjoy, I had a lot of fun writing it. And huge thank you to the best of betas and friends, @icybluepenguin

The chat is populated by Tav's and other characters from my friends, they all helped makes this a delight.

Check out two similar fics if you dig mine. Decadent Torture and Careless Whisper

Read On AO3 Chapter 1

“Hush, a little more, then your punishment is over.” I let go of his cock, turn off the plug vibrating in his ass, and give him a short reprieve. 

Drawing gasping breaths, he looks up at me with pleading, tear filled eyes. God, his eyes are pretty; startling crimson, soft, and round. Normally, I cave when they're all watery like this. But not tonight - tonight is for lessons. 

I play with the little pink bow on his white thigh high stocking. Leaving him with only those, his white bra, and of course his collar, made him such a fetching picture for our little teaching session.

He'd spent most of the night on his knees in the naughty corner, those stockings peeking out of his pleated white skirt, a little pink cashmere sweater completing his look. I'd posted a few pictures that had his audience nice and worked up.

Demi_g0ddess: oh looks like Little Star was very bad today can’t wait to see what Mommy does to the little brat Bookworm420: didn’t realize Mommy was a thicc queen this might be too much for my ovaries

The chat had been crowded when we set up for the stream. Before the camera went on, I told him what to take off and how to prep, but not what I was planning. 

We went live and I made him give a little introduction. 

“I've had a very bad attitude lately and Mommy wants to make sure I'm thoroughly punished, so she's letting you all watch.” Every word was said petulantly as he leaned into playing the brat. 

Ari147: wonder what he did… Drag-onme: who cares, as long we get to watch the aftermath BardlockLongdick: is that a leather couch animal cruelty is not sexy.

“Go on,” I prompted, gesturing for him to get ready. 

The clothes he stripped were folded and set to the side, the chat cheering him on. When he kneeled down, I handed him a vibrating plug that made his eyes go wide. 

“Mommy, please…” he pleaded, but obediently went to work prepping and inserting it, cheeks flushed a deep red. I let him position himself in my lap, head propped on the arm of the couch. Then I started typing, Astarion watching with dawning horror.  

Mommy: Little Star has been an absolute brat about wearing a chastity cage while I’m out of town, because he wouldn’t be able to touch himself. So, tonight, I’m making him come as many times as I think he can handle. 

Demonbbyy: poor little thing got himself into a lot of trouble  TestyZesty: Mommy is way too nice about it but I’m still going to watch.

And here we were- Astarion, covered in his own semen, whimpering in my arms. I drag my finger along his cock, and he sucks in a shuddering breath. One more and I think he’ll have learned his lesson. I push the button on the remote for the plug.

“Fuck,” he whines the word. 

Penguino: aww, Mommy, I think he’s had enough  TestyZesty: nah, he’s still coherent  keep going Demi_g0ddess: Zesty, we’re sharing a brain cell  DrowDaddy: this chat is very mean tonight

I put a generous coating of lube on my hand and begin to work his shaft again. He pants and moans, desperate sounds falling from his lips as he builds to another orgasm. 

The chat continues to go feral as he whines and cries. I'm gentle this last round, languidly rubbing, letting the plug do its work. “That's it, one more for me. You've been so good for your punishment.”

He squirms at the praise, tearfully whimpering, hips weakly bucking as I take him to climax again. My other hand turns up the intensity on the plug. 

“Pleeeease,” he cries, voice ragged.

Another spurt of cum and he goes limp. I turn off the plug and lean down to kiss his sweat soaked forehead, letting him recover for a moment. He's so pretty like this, spent and helpless in my lap.  “Now, are you ready to apologize for being such a little brat the past couple of days?” 

He doesn't hesitate. “I'm sorry, Mommy,” he whimpers, tears running down his face. 

“Good baby. Almost done.” 

He tenses. “But...”

“Shh. They get to see because of the attitude.” He makes a noise. “Don't turn this into a spanking session,” I warn and he gets quiet. 

I take a warm, moist towel I'd set up earlier and clean up his pretty cock. The chat is losing it. 

KneelForMeSweets: and we get to see the cage  can he act up every night 

It's a pretty pink little chastity cage, just perfect for him. I slide the ring on first, then put the tube over his cock before locking it down. He's so quiet, I can hear every breath and the sniffles he's still fighting. 

Once they get a good look, I shut down the stream. 

Mommy: I'm going to go get this little brat cleaned up. Hopefully, he's learned his lesson.

Bitchybambi: I hope not, I want to see what you do next  KneelForMeSweets: she can DM me for ideas.

I kill the video and give him a proper kiss as he clings to me, spent and shivering. “Come on, you. Bath time.”

Astarion is unusually quiet during our aftercare session, and when he's settled into bed in a pair of oversized pajamas, I pull him close, and he snuggles into my neck on instinct. 

“You know, if you think it's too much to wear it, you don't have to.” I run my fingers through his curls and cover his face in soft kisses. He's done stints in the cage before, but I'm starting to doubt myself on this one. It would kill me to ever hurt him for real. 

He doesn't move; if anything, he burrows deeper into the crook of my neck. “It's not, and I am sorry for being a pain. It's just…”

He makes a small, frustrated noise and I keep petting him. “Take your time.” 

For a few minutes, he just takes shaky breaths, and then he speaks. “It’s this whole going back to school thing. I'm nervous, and you're going to be gone for the next two days. And what if this is a dumb idea and I can't do it.”

“It's not a dumb idea, you really like fashion design, baby. And why do you think you can't do it?” 

“Remember the last time I was in school? I failed out.” 

“Astarion, you didn't want to be a lawyer and you hated law school. You only went because Caz-” I feel him tense in my arms, “because he made you.” 

“I know.” He sounds teary again. “But it doesn't mean I don't feel stupid.”

“Love, my pretty little wife, you are not stupid. You’re capable and creative. And you know I won’t have time on this stupid team building trip, otherwise I’d bring you with.” 

“Still going to miss you, though.” 

“I know, baby. I’ll be back before you know it.”

The next morning, Astarion drives me to the airport. I put the keys for his collar and the cage in my jewelry box in case of an emergency or if it’s too much for him. It's cold and rainy, and he’s adorable in oversize sweats with sleepy eyes. After he unloads my bag, I pull him in for a hug and feel it pressed against me. A wave of lust courses through me; I can’t wait to come back and have a nice little session with him. 

“Call me when you land, Fina.” 

I don’t know if he realizes how much I’ll miss him. Astarion and I have rarely been apart since we met in grad school. It's just as hard on me to get on that plane and be without him.

We get one quick call before I’m off to the first of many “activities” the firm planned. I can’t be too angry about it, they pay a ton, and it finances my trophy wife’s lifestyle. I tell Astarion I’ll call him after dinner and karaoke hour. 

The whole day isn't that tortuous, and most of my coworkers get into the spirit of things for karaoke. I still make my exit as soon as I can to get some time in with Astarion. 

To my surprise, I see he's streaming. Sprawled out on the bed in a sheer black satin chemise that's ridden up his thighs enough to show off his beautifully caged cock. 

Instead of anything salacious, he's painting his nails. Not every stream is as action filled as last night. Some of them are just mundane things like now. I can’t fault the audience, I'd still pay to see him too, if he wasn’t mine already. I slide into the chat without announcing myself. 

Ari147: nothing fun tonight? :( 

“I’m afraid not, darling. If I don’t get any fun, neither do you.” He blows a cheeky kiss to the camera, and readjusts, spreading his legs more. One hand idly traces unpainted nails along a thigh while he blows on the ones he just painted. 

He’s such a filthy little tease. 

Mommy: glad to see you’re behaving yourself tonight

He sits up straighter, eyes lighting up. “Hi, Mommy. Missing all this?” His hand climbs higher, running up his abdomen to his chest. 

Demonbbyy: if she isn’t, I’ll take him   Mommy: settle yourselves down

Astarion leans over, getting on all fours to look directly into the camera, licking his lips. “Well, are you?” he pouts. 

Mommy: you know I am, and I’ll prove it when I get home 

His breath hitches. “That’s all for tonight, darlings. I want to give Mommy all my… attention.” 

The stream goes blank and he’s video-calling me seconds later. “Hi.” He smiles giddily. “I thought you might be a little later.”

“What can I say, I do actually miss you a lot. How was your day?”

We chat for a while and I watch him finish his nails, still in his chemise, which hides nothing as he shifts around. He seems less nervous about the school situation, which I chalk up to actually talking about it. 

“Alright, I should probably get to sleep. I’ll call you in the morning.” 

The morning call goes smooth enough, but the day is filled with seminars and an afternoon paintball session. Why do HR departments always think that’s a good idea? Astarion starts texting me around lunch, chatty little messages that I don’t have time to properly answer. Then the attitude creeps in. 

“Fine, if you don’t want to talk to me.”

“I. Am. Busy. Astarion. I’ll call after dinner.”

I forgot dinner is an awards banquet that traps me for longer than I’d anticipated. It never seems to end, and I start trying to text him during it. No response, and a part of me begins to stress that he’s not doing well. He’d tell me though if he wasn’t, I’m pretty sure. 

I practically run up to my room after dinner, skipping the cocktail hour after and all the great networking. All because he has me nearly panicked with worry. So of course, when he doesn’t answer his phone, I’m furious to find him on stream. 

He’s not actually wearing anything, sitting on the plush white rug, a cozy glow from the fireplace providing ambient lighting.

BaasaNova: weren’t you supposed to be in a chastity cage while Mommy is gone 

He gives his hard cock a firm stroke and moans dramatically, red eyes dancing with mischief. “If I’m getting ignored, I’m not going to listen. Besides, she’s busy, so what she doesn’t know isn’t going to hurt her.”

Bookworm420: this seems like a bad idea I don't want to see you get in trouble. 

It isn’t about disobeying me, or any other kink related thing. He really thinks I’d ignore him on purpose. And that stings like nothing else I've ever felt. 

I wait and lurk while he continues to touch himself. He's bubbly and flamboyant, basking in the praise of the chat. Normally, I'd be entranced by his hand working that gorgeous shaft, now I'm getting more furious. 

Finally, with an exaggerated cry, he comes all over himself. While his hand gives a few more lazy pumps, he glances at the chat. 

Mommy: I hope that was worth it 

His eyes get wide and he sits up straight. “Shit.” 

The stream dies just as he starts calling me.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…” he whimpers before I can say anything.

“Astarion,” I cut him off. “I want you to know that I still love you and that isn't going to change. But I'm so hurt and angry right now that you could decide I would ignore you on purpose.”

“Please, I just…” 

“No, we're not going to talk about this now. I'm going to give you until I get home tomorrow to get your thoughts together. But right now I'm too angry to talk to you. So I'm going to go to bed and will call you in the morning.”

 He sobs. “No, stay on the phone with me. Please, Fina.”

I sigh and relent. “I love you, Star.”

We lay in silence for a long time, the occasional sniffle coming from his end. Finally, I'm too exhausted and have to sleep, and reluctantly tell him goodnight.  

There's a subdued call in the morning and I tell him I'll get a cab at the airport, I don't think he should be driving while that upset. Then I'm on the way home. The anger has mostly worn off but this stunt of his still hurts. 

When I get home, hev hasn't left the bed, completely naked, almost hiding under the covers. I don't even think twice before getting under them with him and pulling him to me.

“I'm sorry,” he says softly into my neck, reminding me so much of the day we first kissed. The day I'd needed to take care of him after what Cazador had done to him. 

“I know. Tell me what happened.” I bury my face in his curls and kiss his head. 

“I started getting nervous again and started to panic, and I wanted to talk to you. And I got upset that I couldn't. I know you wouldn't just ignore me.”

“Then why didn't you say you were anxious? I could have made time if I had known you were panicking.”

“I didn't want you to think I was weak. Especially after you told me that you believed in me.”

“Astarion, love, you are always going to be one of the strongest people I've ever met.” My hands rub his back, fingers finding the scars of years of his adopted father's “discipline.” “I'm sorry too, I think I pushed you into something you didn't need while you were nervous. Even if you said you were alright with it.” 

He gets quiet for a moment before answering. “It isn’t your fault. You’re always the best you can be to me.” 

“Still, maybe we should take a break from some of the more performative things.” I feel him tense and kiss his cheek to reassure him. 

“No, it makes me so happy to be like that, to be so completely yours. Don’t take that away.” 

“Let's talk some more tomorrow. There's no need to rush anything.”

“Alright. And, well, you did say that you were going to show me how much you missed me?” His voice pitches soft and breathy. 

“Astarion, you horny little gremlin,” I tease. 

“Please, Mommy. I know I was very naughty, but don't I deserve a little treat?” 

I already feel slick between my legs, even if I'm not sure that I should let him do this. 

“I know what you're thinking, but I can handle some relatively vanilla sex right now. I want to be loved.” He gives me his best wide-eyed pleading look. 

“Alright, baby.” 

I sit up, and he helps me undress, leaving kisses wherever he can reach. My hand reaches out to wrap around his stiffened cock and give a few languid strokes. I catch his eyes wandering down to my breasts with naked longing. 

Relatively vanilla, he said.

“Come here.” 

I lay back, and he follows, slotting between my legs. His cock pushes into me as his lips latch onto a nipple, and he sucks frantically. “There you go.” I stroke his hair, and he starts fucking me with wild, desperate thrusts. “That's what you needed, huh, baby.”

He whines and sucks harder, teeth scraping until pleasure blends with pain. Molten heat builds in my core with each snap of his hips, and I doubt either of us will last long. 

“So good for me,” I pant as I feel myself contract around him and my body tingle with bliss. That does it, and he gives one last jerky thrust as I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him in tight to take every drop of him. 

He collapses on top of me, still suckling, and I let him stay that way, fucked and comforted.

After a very nice Saturday in our pajamas, we talk and settle some things between us. Astarion is still very nervous about school in a couple of weeks, but doesn't want to change the things he loves about our relationship. He even insists on punishment for his bad behavior.

We agree on three days with the chastity cage, the two he originally was supposed to have and one extra. No clothing at home, so I can see it at all times. It kills me not being able to play with my wife's pretty cock. But you know, discipline hurts me more than it hurts him, or something.  

And at the end of the third day, a very serious lesson. So, I arrange something special, to be shared with his audience, like he shared his misbehavior. He's been waiting in the bedroom while I set things up.

“Safe word, wifey,” I order when I come to collect him. 

He stares at my too short, black latex dress with my pale pink strap-on visible where it rides up over my thighs, and blushes. “Objection.” 

“Good, baby.” I lead him to the living room where the camera is already at the right angle to watch as I bend him over the couch arm, pushing his face into the cushion right next to the waiting paddle. I watch him shiver with anticipation and spare a glance at the chat. They’re in rare form tonight. 

DM_ME_UR_SYRUP: Back from my two week ban just in time.  Thornyonmain: Hggnnnnnn, god he looks so good like that am I enjoying the impending pain too much Bitchybambi: Nah, he's asked for this  Demi_g0ddess : You're so right, bestie Penguino: Aww, you guys, have a little sympathy

Picking up the paddle, I run it over the curve of his ass and hear him whimper. My hand pushes down on his back, commanding and reassuring. The first smack is light and I give him a moment. He trembles but says nothing. 

Another one, slightly harder, he whines but doesn’t say anything. I keep going, watching his pale skin burst into red blossoms with each impact. I can feel him shaking under my hand and hear when he starts to cry. 

“You’re being so good,” I coo.

He sobs in response. It’s been awhile since he had a serious spanking session. I keep whispering praise as I go, letting him know how well he’s doing, how much I love him. He’s a teary mess when I’m done, and I can feel the warmth coming from his skin. 

“I’m sorry I was naughty, Mommy,” he whines through tears.

“Shh, shh, I know. I think you deserve a little reward for taking the punishment so well.”

l take the lube I have waiting and coat my fingers. He whines for a totally different reason when I spread him open and push a finger inside his tight hole.

“Fuck,” he mewls when the second one enters. 

He pants through clenched teeth while I work them inside of him, getting him ready to take me. Each stretch and flex draws a new noise and when he’s ready, I coat the strap in lube and press the tip of it against his entrance. Even with a stinging ass, he rolls his hips into it, desperate and needy. 

I gave him a little playful smack on the marks darkening to bruises. “Behave.” 

He yelps but stills. Slowly, I slide it into him, relishing each little moan as I fill him. Then my hips rock, and I thrust deeply, before stilling again. 

“Please,” he begs, desperately. 

“Please what?”

“Fuck me, Mommy.” 

I reward him with another deep thrust, and began to move my hips with a quick rhythm. Under me, Astarion is losing himself, keening wails and pleading whimpers accompany my every movement. 

I'm aware just how achingly empty I am; later we’ll take care of me. Right now, I focus on making him properly blissed out. 

I know his cock is straining against the cage, leaking helplessly, as he reaches the edge. My fingers dig into his hips and I fuck him as deep as I can until a wordless shout rips from him and his whole body is shaking again. I press my hips tight to his, as deep into him as I can while his orgasm ebbs away with multiple whimpers, only pulling out when he’s stilled. 

Turning back, I give the chat a good-bye and end the stream.

SquidDomme: He has in fact not learned anything DrowDaddyG: I think he'll try to be better, he's such a sweet boy BardlockLongdick: Maybe you all should try opening a Bible instead of this website DM_ME_UR_SYRUP: Anyone know how I can get an air horn noise to play in chat (I'm joking, please don't ban me again)

Then I remove the strap-on and save it for later clean up. “Come here, wifey,” I say, sitting on the couch. 

Sluggishly, he obeys, coming to rest his head in my lap. I run my fingers through his hair and let him come  down from the experience. 

“I love you,” he murmurs into my thighs.

“I love you too. No more bratty behavior, right?” 

I feel the little smirk he makes. “Absolutely, lesson learned.” 

We both know he's lying, but I trust none of it will be super hurtful again. “Good little wife.”

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