#i've been too busy to draw lately so take these

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Hi! If you feel inspired, maybe “Why can’t I say ‘no’ to you?” with hangman, Bruce Wayne, or Josh Lyman please? I just love the way you write them! No pressure :)

“I’m weak for you.” Prompts

Sure thing, nonnie! This screamed Josh to me :D

You're not blind to the speculative look Donna casts you as you head for Josh's door. You can't blame her—this is the fifth time a week that she's seen you there. You give her a small wave before you knock on Josh's closed door.

"Yeah," You hear.

You opened your door, poking your head in and smiling.

"Pssst."

You see his head shift just a touch, but his focus remains on the stack of papers on his desk.

"Pssst!" You hiss again.

"Would you—!" He looks up, and you can't help but smile at his incensed frown. "Just come in, it's not like people can't see you standing in the doorway."

"Take a walk with me."

"I'm busy."

"You're always busy. C'mon, it'll clear your head. Un-grump you a little bit."

Josh doesn't move for a moment before he pushes away from his desk. You can't help your smug smile as he presses past you on the way out the door, a hollow insistence of, "I'm not grumpy," dropping from his lips. You follow with a smile, half-jogging to catch up with him.

"Got a real fire lit under your ass today, Lyman."

"Whaddayou want."

"Are you up against a deadline that I don't know about?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"You're drawing this out, you're taking this all out of order."

"There's an order?" You laugh.

"Yes, there's an order," Josh insists as the two of you turn into the hall. "You come in, say, Josh, I need a favor. I tell you that I can't do you a favor right now, I'm full up, I'm slammed. Then you bat your pretty eyelashes at me—"

"You think my eyelashes are pretty?"

"—And I crumble because I'm your favorite sucker—"

"You're nobody's sucker, Josh, least of all mine—"

"And then you get whatever you want because I can't say no to you! God, why can’t I say ‘no’ to you?”

Your steps slow and stop as Josh's tone rises, his hands combing through his hair, your mouth dropping open in surprise as he paces away. He seems to come his senses a few moments later, sighing heavily as he turns back. White House staffers flow around you, Josh's impromptu outburst hardly interrupting their traffic. You curl your arms around yourself as you finally manage to close your mouth, and clear your throat.

"I was just um...I was gonna buy you a coffee," You admit softly. "I know I've been asking a lot of you lately, so, um."

You can see Josh nodding in your periphery.

"...Josh, I'm gonna ask you for one more favor, and then I'm gonna leave you alone."

"Okay."

"And you don't have to do this—"

"Right."

"Take me out on Friday."

"I—What?"

You bite your lip, hesitantly raising your eyes to Josh. His irritation has melted to a sweet, gobsmacked look, lips parted in surprise, brows arching toward his hairline.

"Take me out on Friday," You repeat, taking a step closer to him.

"Why would you want me to do that?"

"Because I like you....And you can't say no to me, apparently. Are you gonna start now?"

Josh's eyes search yours for a few moments before he gives his head a small shake.

"No. I mean," His eyes squeeze shut with a wince, "Not no—"

"Uh-huh," You smile.

"I mean that I'm not going to start saying—"

"I know."

"Okay."

"Friday?"

"Yeah."

You nod slowly, stepping around Josh. "Coffee still sound good to you?"

"Yeah," Josh turns to join you, falling into quiet, steady step.

"...You know you can say no to me. If you want. Just because I ask—"

"Yeah, technically, yeah."

"Not technically. I think if you really put your mind to it, you could manage."

"Sure."

"...You really think my eyelashes are pretty?" You cast him a sly, sidelong smile, grinning as a flush creeps into his cheeks.

"Think some other things are pretty, too," He admits in a mumble.

"Really? Like what?"

"I'll tell you on Friday."

Tag list: @nominalnebula @massivecolorspygiant @winchestershiresauce @kmc1989

@thembosapphicclown @lorecraft @brandyllyn @missredherring @amneris21

[revelations-persona]

some wips and doodles from a couple months ago to like last week

[crabsnpersimmons]

Hmmmm.... yk what I was thinking of a few days ago? Carrots, carrots are good for your body and help regulates your blood pressure. I love carrots so much, yum, yum, yum, yum, yum. I always thought hye sun or any sun rays looked like carrots, like get one ray and then put a small heart-shaped green paper cut-out above it, then I'm fully convinced its a carrot I might as well be convinced even without the paper cut-out. Nom, nom.

ough that's such a cute idea, i had to doodle it real quick

💚🥕 carrot boy sun 🥕💚

[gamebunny-advance]

"High Voltage"

I suddenly remembered that pictogram 1010 I made a while back and decided to finish the set. I still think about making that zine, but I'm just so lazy~

[todayisafridaynight]

I feel like it would be fun to see Leo's actor in Mole Song Final play Ryuji... that's the only person that comes to mind 😭😭

BUT YEAH 4 was the first mainline entry with (proper) faceclaims! I would kill to see faceclaims get to play their characters. Because they actually aren't mocapped by them, just voiced and scanned in--the acting is all done by RGGS' mocap actors. If you're mentally ill enough you'll start to notice acting decisions that differ from what the actual actor would've gone for; Arakawa doesn't cry the way Nakai does, for example. NGL the animations get kind of uncanny at times if you're too mentally ill so I would not recommend paying quite that much attention lol

I was trying not to think about it though because even if we By Some Miracle got to "season 7" (8 if they do 0) it's entirely possible Nakai and/or Tsutsumi won't be acting anymore by then 😭😭😭😭😭Tsutsumi wants to start directing by the time he's 60... That's chiefly why I kinda wanted it to be an adaptation of 7 before we knew any of the specifics... But Oh Well, it is what it is

ANYWAYS. Very excited for stream tomorrow and best of luck getting stuff done for today :D

YEAH LIKE UNDOUBTEDLY he gave such big ryuji vibes and had an epic presence..... if i allowed myself to dream just this once he would be a real good contender for ryuji......

ohhh yeah nonono ive definitely noticed DONT WORRY. whenever i draw or write fics, i always try to imagine the actual character first to see if the expression or dialogue fits them and if it's believable. having dove more into tsutsumi and nakai movies and shows, the difference is REALLY apparent to me (in that vein tho, it's easy for me to see them as individual characters as opposed to actors playing characters, so it's a little bit of a win for me somehow lmao)

YEAH NOOO THATS DEF A VERY LIKELY POSSIBILITY SHOULD THE SERIES SOMEHOW GET TO THAT POINT IN THE GAMES. again i doubt we'll actually get that far, but in the rare event that we do i hope nakai and tsutsumi do whatever makes them happy (and id def be into seein a movie directed by tsutsumi) (❁´◡`❁)

I REMEMEBR THATLKVJELK WHICH ONE OF YOU FIENDS SENT ME THAT FANCAST SITE IN THE FIRST PLACE ☠️☠️☠️☠️

[forgettable-au]

WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME OH MY GOD????!?@?!@(#&??/VERY POS BUT ALSO DEVASTATING

@forgettable-au FAN ANIMATION ! LOUD NOISE WARNING!

*What was it all for…?

Song: Vishnu <3 by Peter Cat Recording Co.

…okay.

The main inspiration for this…can be summed up with I LOVE HOW SAD THIS CONCEPT IS. BUT i also adore how WEIRD it is.

This whole thing must be pretty weird and creepy for the characters right??? Like- we dont know for certain what EXACTLY is gonna happen, but we know for a fact that Wingdings finds out hes in a game, then kills himself so he can be closer with god-

THATS PRETTY WEIRD 😭😭 also sad but we can ignore that for now

I also experimented a tad with this in working with silence, so timing things at my own pace! It was really hard! I HAD SO MUCH FUN!!!!!!!

But, time for my FAVORITE PART….ANALYSIS!!!

DISCLAIMER: some things stated as fact haven’t been said in the blog/arent canon to the au itself, just my animation/theories/interpretation, cause i’m silly and headcanoning :3

TITLE:

The proper title ive given this is “To You” which means 2 different and very vague things. What happened to you? and sending a message like “this is To You”.

In that case, “you” is whichever version of Papyrus/Wingdings/Gaster you want- Its not exactly clear which version of him means “you” which is kinda the point. The lines blur together sometimes…

But yeah, Gaster/crazy WD sends messages TOO himself so they’re “To You”

CONTEXT

Wingdings has JUST turned himself into Gaster. Ignore how impossible Sans interacting with him in this moment is, and just hear me out on the angst possibilities-

SCENE 1

As Sans approaches the mess- Gaster is encased in shadow, and looks at him. Expression not telling much- just looking blankly. Doesn’t even look like he’s alive… just… moving. Also the eye thats open, is just a slit. because- perspective. BUT I also had fun putting that there and going hehehehe it looks like WD/Papyrus’ eye

Sans approaches, and getting engulfed in the shadow, leaving the light.

His expression here was REALLY fun and REALLY hard to draw. Angry? maybe. stunned and terrified? DEFINITELY.

In this context (that doesn’t have a lot to go off of with the comics, YET) Sans knows that this was all very much intentional. He absolutely does not want to be angry, and is certainly only feeling it subconsciously.

But… he wanted so badly to understand, and enter his brother world. But now, Sans is just… Baffled. Hes like “what the fuck did you do???”

SCENE 2

Gaster continues to look blank. Looking up at Sans as he approaches, encasing him in even more shadow.

Sans’ hand reaches to Gasters face. From Sans’ perspective, his intentions are like checking for a pulse. Not literally ofc cause pulses arent on our face- but like, feeling for him. For a sign that something is there. (It’s also meant to be something motherly/comforting)

But then, Gaster leans into the touch, somewhat reciprocating this wordless “ive got you” gesture. That’s what makes Sans go from Terrified to just purely grief stricken. His brother is still alive. And he loves him.

But this form wont last for long…For universe fixing screw ups reasons :D 👍

SCENE 3

Gaster then opens his eyes, revealing hes even still got eye lights available for him. Thats what just SHATTERS the dam, and Sans embraces him suddenly.

SCENE(S) 4

Then, the “reset” happens, Gaster is gone, and Papyrus appears in place of Wingdings in his bed.

Nothing is boiling to add to a “frozen in terror” feeling!

Now- drawing all of the differences between the past and present rooms. DESTROYED ME. i HAD SO MUCH FUN BUT I ALSO CRIED 😭 There are no thank-you letters to santa, no racecar bed, no silly bone painting, no action figures, just BORING

I also wanted to keep everything monochromatic, so ofc we’ve got black and white for the void/Gaster, blue for Sans, red for Papyrus, and purple for Sans and Papyrus together.

The tape recorder and lab coat are still greyscale though cause Wingdings still has SOME of his stuff lying around. But the tapes are indecipherable, and Papyrus threw out that lab coat the first chance he got. It gave him the absolute worst feeling, worse than anything he’s ever experienced.

Something I also really enjoy is the fact that the dress shirts were still technically Wingdings’ but they’re red for Papyrus. The lab coat is the only real WINGDINGS thing that Papyrus wants absolutely no part in. Some things that were Wingdings’ are now Papyrus’ cause :D👍

in place of the bone painting are just family photos that I also have extra to say about. Someday I wanna make a comic of what happened to those/what I think would happen to em.

One day Papyrus is like “HEY UH- SANS! THESE PHOTOS! I DON’T LIKE LOOKING AT THEM! CAN WE NOT!?” Aka, he doesn’t remember these things happening/these photos being taken… BUT THEYRE PHOTOS OF HIM.

So he just feels really uncomfortable looking at memories he should reasonably remember, but doesn’t at all- and Sans gets that. But he keeps em in his drawer. Then! they hung up the bone thing in place of it cause SILLY!

But the family photos, I still had fun with. From left to right theyre a photo of Semi with the twins, the twins as baby bones, then as slightly older kids, then WDs graduation photo.

CONCLUSION!

This entire thing was so much fun, and I feel i’ve really grown as an artist over the process of experimenting and not being knocked down by annoying setbacks,

Also, as usual, Works In Progress’ plus extra behind the scenes stuff will be posted shortly after this!! YIPPEEE!!! HAPPY NIGHTMARES!!!!!

OHHHH ALSO EXTRA ART!!!

“AREN’T THEY BEAUTIFUL?”

That silly moment when your clone is really weirdly obsessed with stars and enthusiastically holds your eye sockets open to show you them

[dinogoofymutated]

Hi there! I'm currently watching the original X men series to catch up to 97, and I'm in love with Gambit.

Would it be possible to ask for Remy and reader to be on a secret mission, and the Ole "make out so they don't suspect us" trope comes in, and gambit kinda (obviously) has feelings...?

It could be sfw or nsfw, either is perfect! Thank you for all that you do, I've been trying to find fics for the xmen for a while 🙏🙏

Kinda spicy! Gambit/GN!reader

YESS!! YESSSS!!! I legit had a dream about this situation with remy the day before you sent me this ask and I was cackling in joy when I saw this! I basically hyperfixated on it because I love this trope.

TWS: sexual themes n shit, no explicit smut. As always, reader written while picturing fem! but no specific pronouns mentioned. Semi-public making out and touching. Nipples be touched but size and type of breast not mentioned.

-Ps- reader can see heat signatures for plot purposes. I usually try to keep powers ambiguous but it was a NEED!

"In here, quick!" Remy's thick draw catches your attention, just before he yanks you into an alley. The two of you were in New Orleans, looking for a specific mutant Xavier wanted to talk to. The only downside was that Remy still had a warrant out for his arrest, and wanted posters plastered all over the city from bourbon Street to the garden district.

"Don't worry Cher. You said. NOPD 'dumber than a sack of rocks, you said!" You gripe at him. Remy laughs, tugging you around the corner. The alleyways on Burbon street are mostly private areas, owned and sealed off by the bars that line the storefronts- but Remy knew this city like the back of his hand. However, things had changed since he was here last. That became apperent when the two of you reach the end of the alleyway and there's a brand new brick wall, a dead end.

Remy curses and skids to a stop, causing you to slam into his back. You send him a dirty look as you whip around, eyes adjusting to the brick surroundings. It's hard to make out the figures of the cops through the walls of the busy bar in in front of you, too many people crowding the street for drinks even this late at night. You strain your eyes a bit, but are able to make out the stiff-shouldered men, heat signature slightly elevated from booking it after the two of you. Unfortunately, they're headed towards the mouth of the alleyway.

"Damnit." You mutter, turning back to Remy. He understands what you mean just by looking at your face. He hums, thinking for a moment before he begins to take out a playing card. You grab his arm to stop him, trying to ignore how warm his skin is against your own.

"Don't. The explosion will just lead them to us." You say. Remy nodds, glancing at the corner before suddenly caging you against the wall of the alleyway. You try not to blush as he does so. Remy smirks at you, and you think your heart might just explode. You remind yourself that this is standard Remy behavior, but it doesn't stop your face from heating up. You can only hope it's too dark for him to see you properly.

"Well, there is another way we could fool those pigs." Remy says, quieter than before. You cock an eyebrow at him before looking back over in the direction of the alleyways opening, able to spot the cops as they begin to enter. In your peripheral, you see Remy running his fingers through his hair to flatten it. You open your mouth to ask him what he has in mind, but the sound of footsteps cut you off.

"-Well, if you're going to do something, you better do it quick!" You whisper back at him. Remy pushes you further against the cold brick, his hands drifting down to your waist as he leans over to wisper in your ear.

"Trust me, Cher. I'll take care of you." His words cause goosebumps to rise at the back of your neck, and you hardly have time to react before he's kissing you. Your eyes are blown wide, heart thumping wildly as you start to slowly relax into the kiss.

Unsurprisingly, Remy is a really, really good kisser. It's hard to focus while he's touching you like this, kissing you deeply like he loves you. He nips at your lip, and you gasp, having forgotten about everything else already. His tongue darts into you mouth, caressing the skin he finds there. You let out a small moan as one of his hands drifts lower, caressing your thigh and hiking your leg up just a bit. Your own hands slowly slide up his chest, drifting to his neck.

The heat in your chest is unbearable when Gambit separates from the kiss, a string of spit connecting your mouths before he wipes it away, nothing but affection on his eyes. You're panting for breath while he kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, and then lower. Remy places wet kisses on your neck, sucking and biting as he tries to swallow you whole. You thread your hands through his soft hair as his does so, fully encouraging him to ravage you in whatever way he would like. One of his hands begins to slide under your shirt when a cough startles you out of your heated state.

Your first instinct is to turn towards the noise, but Gambit is quick to cup your cheek and pull you into another heated kiss before your head could move a centimeter. He keeps you occupied as his other hand fully caresses the skin beneath your shirt, squeezing and caressing your chest. You hear another exhausted sigh from the cops. You crack and eye open slightly, knowing they cant see you do so in the dark. One of them begins to raise his voice, but the other smacks him on the shoulder.

"Just another pair of drunks. We've got bigger things to worry about right now." The cop says. You could practically hear the other roll his eyes before they turn to and walk away. Gambit brings your attention back to him and only him when you feel a finger brush lightly against your nipple. You gasp, and Remy chuckles, playfully biting your lip as he pulls away. He's smirking as he looks at you, and you can only imagine what you look like right now.

"Looks like you enjoyed that." He teases, voice low and husky. You can't seem to pull your thought together properly when he's looking at you like that. You nervously look away, hands playing with his collar.

"And if I did?" You ask, glancing back at him to gage his reaction. He looks surprised at first, face morphing into a lovestruck smile before he tries to cover it up with a smirk. Didn't stop you from being able to see the heat rise to his cheeks, however.

"Then gambit thinks we should do this more often."

[natsaffection]

Hi it's my first time making a request so basically reader is tony starks daughter and tony decides to take the team on a vacation to an island .

Reader is dating g!p Wandanat and is also a virgin while they are on a beach refer decides she is ready to have sex and Wandanat and reader do it but tony walks in on them after they are done and asks reader bunch of akward question

At your Pace. | WandaNat

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI!, G!P Natasha and Wanda, oral (r receiving), loss of Virginity, unprotected Sex, slight begging, cute and soft sex

Word count: 4,5k

A/n: Hope it's not too slow, but I'm always a softi when it's about Virgin Reader ✨️🫂

It was a rare evening of relaxation, one Tony had insisted on, knowing that the team needed a break. Among those present, you, Tony's daughter, sat comfortably on the sofa, flanked by Natasha and Wanda.

Natasha and Wanda had been together for some time, their bond forged in the fire of battle and the quiet moments in between. Their love was deep, powerful, and enduring. But it wasn't until you came into their lives that they realized their hearts had room for one more person. Your innocence, your radiant smile, and the light you brought into their lives had drawn them both to you. It was a slow, gentle process, but eventually, the three of you found yourselves in a relationship characterized by affection and new beginnings.

Although your relationship was still fresh, the bond between you was undeniable. Natasha and Wanda were very patient with you and understood that you had never been in such a relationship before. They cherished you and wanted to take things slowly, but the connection between you grew stronger with each passing day.

Tony entered the room, his presence immediately drawing attention. "Okay, everyone, listen up!" he called out, his voice cutting through the chatter. The room fell silent, and all eyes turned to him. "I have a surprise for you." Tony began, a grin spreading across his face. "We've been through a lot lately, and I think it's time for a break. So, I've decided to invite you all to my private island for a little vacation. No missions, no stress, just time to relax and enjoy life."

Excitement spread through the room, but your heart skipped a beat. A vacation with Natasha and Wanda, away from the distractions of your busy lives? The thought was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. Wanda gently squeezed your hand, leaning closer. "Doesn't that sound nice?" she whispered, her voice soft and full of affection.

Natasha smiled at you, her lips curling into a slight smile. "I think it will be good for us. A little time to unwind." You nodded, your cheeks flushing slightly. The thought of spending uninterrupted time with them was enticing, but you couldn't ignore the nervous flutter in your stomach. Your relationship was still so new, and you weren't sure if you were ready for more intimate moments. But the loving and patient look Natasha and Wanda gave you reassured you that they would take things at your pace. As the Team buzzed with excitement, Tony clapped his hands. "Okay, pack your bags, everyone. We're flying out tomorrow!"

The private jet ascended into the sky, carrying you to your tropical destination. You sat by the window, watching the sea stretch out below you. Natasha and Wanda sat beside you, their presence a calming anchor amidst your swirling thoughts. Wanda leaned closer, her voice a gentle murmur. "You seem lost in thought."

You turned to her and smiled shyly. "I'm just thinking about how nice it will be to relax with both of you." Natasha chuckled softly, her tone playful. "You're going to love it. And don't worry we'll take care of everything."

There was a subtle undertone in Natasha's words that made your heart race. You knew that you were all still exploring the boundaries of your relationship, but you couldn't ignore the growing sense of anticipation for what this vacation might bring. Soon, the island came into view, a breathtaking slice of paradise surrounded by turquoise waters and pristine white sandy beaches. The team marveled at the sight, impressed by Tony's private retreat. As you disembarked, you were greeted by the warm breeze and the scent of the ocean, which instantly washed away the stress of your lives.

Your accommodation was nothing short of luxurious—a sprawling villa with private suites, each offering stunning views of the sea. You, Natasha, and Wanda were given your own suite, a secluded sanctuary where you could enjoy each other's company away from the others. As you entered the suite, you couldn't resist rushing out to the balcony. The view was spectacular, the sun beginning its descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. Natasha and Wanda joined you, standing by your side, their arms wrapped around your waist.

"This is perfect.." you whispered, your voice filled with awe. Wanda pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. "It's beautiful, just like you." Natasha's hand glided down your hip, her touch light but possessive. "We're going to have a wonderful time here. Just the three of us." There was a tension in the air, not unpleasant, but electric. You could feel it, the subtle shift in your dynamic. Natasha's touch lingered a little longer, and Wanda's gaze held an intensity that made your heart race.

The morning sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over Stark Island. The team had decided to spend the day at one of the island's pristine beaches, taking full advantage of the perfect weather. The beach was a secluded spot, surrounded by lush greenery, with soft white sand stretching down to the crystal-clear water. The three of you walked hand in hand, your feet sinking into the sand as you approached the others. The team had already claimed a spot, spreading out towels and setting up a few large umbrellas for shade. It was the ideal day to relax, with nothing but the sound of the waves and the gentle rustling of palm trees in the background.

You had chosen a simple but flattering swimsuit that both Natasha and Wanda had admired that morning. You had blushed under their appreciative gazes, a feeling of warmth accompanying you throughout the day. Now, as you settled on your towels, you couldn't help but notice how close Natasha and Wanda were to you, their presence a constant, soothing warmth.

"Okay, who needs sunscreen?" Natasha asked, holding up a bottle and giving it a light shake. The rest of the team waved her off, already busy applying their own. But Natasha's eyes rested on you, a playful grin on her lips. "Y/n?" You felt your cheeks heat up. "I could use some, yeah.." you replied, your voice a little softer than usual. Wanda's eyes sparkled with mischief as she took the bottle from Natasha's hand. "I'll help you." You lay down on your stomach, your pulse quickening as you felt Wanda's fingers begin to spread the cool lotion across your back. The touch was gentle, but there was a certain firmness to it, a pressure that made your skin tingle with anticipation. Wanda's hands moved slowly, taking their time, and you could feel your breath hitch as the sensations sent shivers down your spine.

Natasha, not wanting to be left out, scooted closer, brushing your hair aside and applying the lotion to your shoulders and neck. Her touch was more focused, her fingers kneading the tension from your muscles as she worked. The combination of their touches, Wanda's soft and soothing, Natasha's firm and confident sent your thoughts spinning. Surrounded by their love, you realized just how much you wanted it. The touches, the closeness, the way Natasha's and Wanda's hands lingered on your skin..it awakened something deep inside you.

When they were finished, you felt as if you were on the edge of something you couldn't quite name. Your body was alive with sensation, every nerve attuned to their presence. You spent the rest of the day distracting yourself, swimming in the ocean, playing volleyball with the team, and enjoying the sun, but nothing could ease the longing that had settled deep within you.

When you returned to your private suite, you couldn't shake the lingering sensations from the day. You lay between them, your back resting against Wanda's chest, while Natasha lay on your other side, her fingers idly tracing patterns on your arm. The atmosphere was comfortable, but beneath it lay a tension, a silent conversation that passed between the three of you. Wanda's hand moved slowly, tracing the line of your collarbone before sliding down over your heart and resting there. "You seem a little quiet." Wanda murmured, her breath warm against your ear.

Natasha's hand stilled on your arm, her eyes searching your face. "Is something on your mind?" she asked, her voice gentle but with that playful undertone you loved so much. You could feel your heart racing, the sensation of their hands on your skin making it hard to think clearly. You had been wrestling with the emotions that had built up inside you all day, and now, in the intimacy of your shared bed, those feelings were impossible to deny.

You swallowed and whispered, "I've been thinking about earlier..about how you guys made me feel." Natasha's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Oh? And how did we make you feel?" Your cheeks flushed as you glanced between the two women. In their eyes, there was no judgment, only love and desire. You felt safe with them, but also vulnerable, in a way that both thrilled and terrified you.

"I..want more.." you confessed, your voice trembling slightly with a mix of nerves and anticipation. "I'm ready..for more." Wanda's hand on your chest tightened slightly, her thumb stroking slowly and deliberately over your skin. "Are you sure, darling?" she asked, her voice deep and soothing. Natasha’s hand moved to cup your face, her thumb tracing along your jawline. "We'll take it as slow as you need, Y/n. But if you're ready..we're here."

You felt the weight of their love in those words, and it gave you the courage to push past your nerves. You turned to Natasha and pressed your lips to hers in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened as your desire took over. Natasha responded instantly, her hand slipping into your hair to hold you close. Wanda's hand slid lower, her touch gentle but purposeful as she explored your body with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. "You're so beautiful.." Wanda whispered against your neck, her lips brushing the sensitive skin there and sending shivers down your spine.

You broke the kiss with Natasha, your eyes wide with a mix of longing and uncertainty. "I want both of you..I want to feel everything with you, please.." you admitted, your voice barely more than a breath. Natasha’s eyes darkened with desire, but her voice remained calm. "You'll feel everything, Y/n. We’ll take care of you, together."

Wanda’s fingers traced the outlines of your ribs with intentional slowness. "We’ll go at your pace, love. Just let us know if you need anything. Anything at all." You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. You had never felt so exposed yet so loved at the same time. Every touch from Natasha and Wanda was full of promise, a silent vow to protect you, to cherish you, and to make sure you felt safe and cared for.

When the moment finally came to take the next step, you felt your nerves resurface, the weight of the unknown pressing down on you. But Natasha sensed your hesitation and was the first to pull back slightly, her green eyes filled with concern and love. "Y/n, it’s okay." Natasha whispered, her hand gently cupping your cheek. "We don’t have to rush anything. We have all the time in the world."

Wanda, lying on the other side of you, nodded in agreement, her hand resting comfortingly on your waist. "We’re here for you, Y/n." she said softly, her voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. "Let’s start with something familiar, something that makes you feel safe." Natasha leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, her hand stroking your hair tenderly. "We’ll go at your pace." she promised, her voice full of tenderness. "Just tell us if anything feels uncomfortable, and we’ll stop right away." Wanda smiled gently, her lips brushing your temple as she spoke. "We want you to feel good, Y/n."

With those words, they began to guide you, their touches becoming more focused as they helped you find a more comfortable position. Natasha kissed you deeply, her lips moving softly against yours, while Wanda pressed kisses along your neck, her hands soothingly caressing your sides. As their kisses grew more intense, you felt yourself relaxing in their embrace, your earlier nervousness slowly giving way to growing anticipation. Wanda’s lips trailed lower, along your chest, with deliberate slowness that sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Natasha’s mouth followed Wanda’s lead, her kisses mirroring the soft, lingering touch, as she moved to your other side, her hands stroking your skin in calming, circular motions. They took their time, allowing you the space to adjust to the sensations, their mouths working in perfect harmony to increase your pleasure. When Wanda’s lips finally reached your lower abdomen, she paused and looked up at you with a gaze full of pure adoration. "Tell us if it becomes too much, Y/n." Wanda whispered, her breath warm against your skin. Your breath caught as you felt Wanda’s lips moving lower, the sensation unfamiliar but deeply arousing. "It feels..good," you murmured, your voice breathless. "Please, don’t stop.."

Wanda smiled, her eyes full of love as she lowered her mouth to your core, her tongue moving with precise care to bring you pleasure. Natasha, unwilling to be outdone, continued to kiss and caress your upper body, her lips tracing a path along your collarbone and breasts, her hands never leaving your sides. The dual sensation of Wanda’s mouth and Natasha’s hands overwhelmed you in the best possible way. Your breath came in short gasps as the pleasure built within you, every movement of Wanda’s tongue and every touch from Natasha sending waves of ecstasy through your body. Natasha’s lips found yours again, kissing you deeply as Wanda continued her skillful work below. "You’re doing so well.." Natasha whispered against your lips, her voice husky with desire. "Just let yourself go."

"I..shit..I-"You could barely manage a response, your mind consumed by the intense sensations coursing through your body. You had never felt anything like this before, and it was all thanks to their love and care. Their mouths moved in perfect sync, one focused on your pleasure while the other grounded you, ensuring that you felt safe and could enjoy every moment.

When Wanda’s tongue hit a particularly sensitive spot, your body tensed, the wave of pleasure tightening inside you. Natasha’s hands moved to hold you steady, her lips trailing gentle kisses down your neck in soft, lingering touches. "Just let go, Y/n.." Wanda murmured between her movements, her voice low and reassuring. "We’re right here with you." Natasha’s hands gripped your waist, her voice a soft whisper in your ear. "We’ve got you, Y/n. You’re safe."

With their loving encouragement and the overwhelming sensations from Wanda’s mouth, you finally let go, your climax hitting you like a wave, leaving your body trembling. You cried out softly as the pleasure overtook you, the intensity of your orgasm leaving you breathless. Wanda continued her gentle ministrations, guiding you through the aftershocks, her mouth never leaving you until she had eased you through the waves of pleasure. Natasha held you close, kissing you tenderly as your body slowly relaxed. "That’s it.." Natasha whispered, her voice full of pride and love. "You did so well."

As your breathing slowly returned to normal, you felt a warmth blossoming in your chest, a mix of love, satisfaction, and deep connection to Natasha and Wanda. But the night was far from over..Wanda kissed her way back up your body, her eyes filled with adoration as she met your gaze. "You were amazing, Y/n.." Wanda said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "But if you’re ready, we’d love to share even more with you."

You nodded, your heart still racing, but your earlier nervousness had now been replaced with growing curiosity and desire. "I want..to feel everything with you," you whispered, your voice steady despite the lingering excitement. Wanda smiled and kissed you deeply before positioning herself between your legs. "We’ll take it slow, and if you ever want to stop, just say the word." Wanda assured you, her voice calm and full of love.

Wanda moved carefully, her eyes never leaving your face. The initial sensation was unfamiliar, but Wanda’s gentle, slow movements and the look of love in her eyes reassured you. She paused to give you time to adjust before continuing, her movements gentle and tender. The sensation of feeling Wanda inside you was intense, but the combination of her careful approach and Natasha’s soothing touch helped you relax. Natasha kissed you softly, her hand gliding along your body as Wanda found a steady rhythm.

You gasped at the sensation, your body slowly adjusting to the feeling of fullness. Wanda’s movements were loving and deliberate, her eyes fixed on your face to ensure you were comfortable. "How are you feeling, Y/n?" Wanda asked softly, her voice full of concern. You nodded, your voice a breathless whisper. "F-Fuck, its so good..!"

Wanda smiled, her movements becoming more confident as your body responded to the pleasure. Natasha’s hand found yours, holding it firmly as she pressed gentle kisses to your lips, her voice a calming murmur in the quiet room. "You’re doing so well, Y/n. Just focus on what feels good."

The rhythm between you all soon became more intense, and you lost yourself in the sensations, your earlier nerves forgotten. Wanda’s movements were deep and steady, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, while Natasha’s kisses and touches only heightened the pleasure. When you finally reached your peak again, it was with a soft cry, your body shaking as the pleasure washed over you. Wanda slowed her movements, helping you through the waves of ecstasy, her eyes full of love as she watched you from below. Natasha kissed you deeply, her hand gently caressing your cheek. "You’re so beautiful, you know that?" Natasha whispered, her voice full of emotion. "We’re so proud of you." As you tried to catch your breath, Wanda slowly withdrew, pressing a tender kiss to your lips.

Buutt, Natasha, who had held back to ensure you were comfortable, now positioned herself between your legs, her own arousal evident. "If you’re ready, Y/n...I would love to feel you too.." Natasha said softly, her voice filled with longing but also with a deep care for your well-being.

You nodded, still catching your breath from the overwhelming sensations, but eager to share this intimate connection with Natasha as well. Your body still hummed with the afterglow of pleasure, but the love and desire you felt for both Natasha and Wanda gave you the confidence to continue. Natasha's eyes softened at your nod, her expression filled with affection as she leaned down to kiss you deeply. Her lips moved tenderly against yours, as if to remind you of her unwavering support and love. "I'll be gentle." Natasha whispered against your lips, her breath warm on your skin. "Just tell me if anything feels too much."

Wanda, who had shifted to your side, gently stroked your hair and whispered soothing words, her presence a constant source of comfort. "We're right here with you, Y/n. Just focus on the feeling and know that you're safe."

As Natasha positioned herself, she moved with the same care and patience that Wanda had shown. She guided herself to your entrance, pausing to look into your eyes for any sign of hesitation. Seeing only trust and readiness in your gaze, Natasha slowly began to move forward, her actions controlled and deliberate. The sensation of Natasha entering you was different from what you had felt with Wanda, equally intense, but with a new depth of connection that made your breath catch. You gasped softly as Natasha filled you, your body adjusting to the new feeling. Natasha moved with exquisite gentleness, giving you all the time you needed to acclimate.

For a moment, Natasha paused, her green eyes locked on yours, her hand reaching up to brush a stray hair from your face. "God, you're doing so good." she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "How does it feel?"

Your breath came in shallow bursts as you processed the fullness inside you, but the overwhelming sensation was one of love and warmth. "Uh..huh..It feels... really good.." you whispered, your voice laced with awe. "Please... don't stop.." Natasha smiled, her eyes filled with pure adoration as she began to move in a slow, steady rhythm. Each thrust was measured, focused entirely on bringing you pleasure while ensuring you felt secure. Natasha's hands roamed your body, her touch grounding you in the moment, as if anchoring you to this shared experience.

Wanda, who was lying beside you, leaned in to press soft kisses to your temple and cheek, her hand gently caressing your arm. As Natasha continued to move within you, you felt the pleasure begin to build once more, a slow, insistent wave that grew stronger with each movement. The combination of Natasha's deep, even strokes and Wanda's tender touches heightened your senses, driving you closer to the edge.

Natasha's eyes never left yours, her gaze full of devotion as she whispered sweet reassurances. "You're so beautiful, like this..!" she murmured, her voice husky with desire. "I love you so much. Just let go whenever you're ready."

Wanda's fingers moved in perfect harmony with Natasha's thrusts, her gentle caresses amplifying the pleasure that was coursing through your body. "We've got you, love." Wanda whispered, her voice soothing and encouraging. "You're safe with us. Just let it happen."

With their combined efforts and the overwhelming sensations flooding your body, you finally let go, your climax hitting you with a force that left you breathless. Your body trembled as the waves of pleasure crashed over you, your mind lost in the intensity of the moment. Natasha moaned softly as she felt your body tighten around her, her own climax approaching rapidly. "Y/n... I'm so close..!" Natasha breathed, her voice heavy with need.

"Just a little more.." Natasha whispered, her movements becoming more urgent as she neared her own release. Wanda's hand never left yours, her other hand stroking your cheek lovingly as she whispered words of encouragement. "We're so proud of you, Y/n.." Wanda murmured, her voice filled with warmth and affection. "You're doing so well. You're amazing."

With a few more deep, steady thrusts, Natasha reached her own climax, her body shuddering as the waves of ecstasy overtook her. She let out a low, throaty moan as she rode out her orgasm, her hands gripping your waist as she savored the sensation. After her release, a calming stillness settled over the room. Natasha slowly withdrew from you and collapsed beside you, her breath still coming in heavy pants as she wrapped her arms around you. Wanda leaned in to place a tender kiss on your lips, before pulling you into a tight embrace, ensuring you were securely nestled between them.

For a moment, the three of you lay there in a comforting silence, the only sounds being the gentle rustling of the sheets and the soft rhythm of your breathing. The intensity of the experience still lingered, but it was accompanied by a profound sense of peace and connection.

Wanda was the first to speak, her voice barely above a whisper as she caressed your cheek. "You were absolutely incredible, Y/n." Wanda said, her eyes shining with pride. "Thank you for trusting us." Natasha, still recovering from her own orgasm, leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "We love you so much." Natasha murmured, her voice filled with raw emotion.

You smiled, your body finally relaxing fully in their embrace. A deep sense of contentment and fulfillment washed over you, far beyond the physical pleasure you had just experienced. It was the knowledge that you were cherished, valued, and deeply loved by these two incredible women who had guided you through this intimate journey. "I love you both." you whispered, your voice soft but filled with sincerity. "And we love you." Natasha and Wanda responded in unison, their voices a harmonious echo in the quiet room.

As the three of them slowly drifted off to sleep, lulled by the quiet intimacy of the moment, the door to the room suddenly creaked open. Your eyes snapped open in alarm, your heart leaping into your throat as you suddenly saw Tony standing in the doorway. "Y/n, are you-" Tony began, but his voice trailed off as he took in the scene before him. His eyes widened slightly, clearly surprised by what he had walked in on.

Natasha and Wanda reacted quickly, pulling the covers over you to shield you from view. You, embarrassed and completely caught off guard, turned bright red and tried to burrow even further under the blanket. "Dad!" you exclaimed, your voice a mix of embarrassment and frustration. "What are you doing here?!"

Tony, now fully grasping the situation, quickly raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, a sheepish grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "Whoa, whoa! Sorry! Didn't mean to barge in!" Tony said, trying to backtrack, though it was obvious that he was slightly amused by the whole thing.

Natasha and Wanda exchanged amused glances, clearly finding the situation more entertaining than awkward. Wanda stifled a laugh, while Natasha smirked, obviously enjoying your reaction even as they tried to comfort you. "Tony, maybe knock next time?" Natasha suggested, her tone light and teasing. "We were a bit..preoccupied."

You, still mortified, groaned and buried your face in your hands. "This is so embarrassing.." you muttered, your voice muffled by the blanket. Tony, seemingly unfazed by the tension, continued with his string of awkward questions. "I mean, was it..you know, at least good? No, uh, technical issues? Everything-"

"Dad, seriously, stop!" you groaned, burying your face in your hands, overwhelmed with embarrassment. But Tony, apparently not catching on, kept going. "Hey I always wamted to knowwho was on top-" You let out a muffled scream into your pillow, utterly mortified. "Please, just leave!"

Natasha finally couldn’t hold back her laughter, her shoulders shaking as she tried to keep it quiet. Wanda bit her lip, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Tony raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning as if he was thoroughly enjoying himself. "Okay, okay, I'm going. But, hey, if you ever want to talk about..you know, positions or, uh, tips, I'm here for you, kiddo. Or, you know, not—whatever."

As Tony finally turned to leave, you peeked out from under the covers, your face still bright red with embarrassment and disbelief. "Why does he have to be like that?" you muttered, utterly mortified. Natasha chuckled, pulling you into her arms. "Because he's Tony Stark." she said, pressing a kiss to your temple. "And because he cares..in his own weird way."

Wanda smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "At least he supports you, even if he's a bit too curious." she added with a soft laugh. With the tension broken, the three of you settled back down, you securely nestled between Natasha and Wanda, feeling safe, loved, and despite everything, a little less embarrassed as you finally drifted off to sleep.

[mattslolita]

subby matt fic PLEASE

kisses 🎀😚

anon 💫 ;)

lock your phone - m. sturniolo

in which ... your boyfriend's been so busy with work that he's barely paid attention to you — so you show him how much you missed him. ( boyfriend!matt x black!fem reader )

warnings ; soft!dom!reader, sub!matt, oral ( m! & f! receiving ), face riding, overstim

"𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃��𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆."

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰

your boyfriend matt was always so busy nowadays.

you knew how much being an youtuber could be a very demanding job — the many meetings he had to attend, all the filming, you understand that he alot on his plate at times.

but sometimes you felt neglected, sexually frustrated — you had been left to your own devices most of the time. but the feeling of your own fingers wasn't the same as the way matt's tongue pleased you. or the way his fingers curled inside you. you needed him — you craved him.

matt and his brothers had finished their collab with sam and colby, meaning you shared your final night at the hotel with him. alone, this time.

he hadn't gotten back just yet, but he texted you earlier to tell you that he and his brothers were on their way back to the hotel. luckily, you packed your blue lingerie set that you specifically bought for the occasion, and you were dressed in that under the white robe you tied around your body.

you sprayed a light amount of body spray on you, then you set the bottle down. a sudden click of the door sounded, causing excitement to flood through your veins as you realized matt was finally back.

"baby, i'm back," matt calls out, and you stifle a giggle.

"i'll be out in a second!" you called back to him, giving yourself one final once over before you opened the bathroom door.

you stood in the doorway as you observed the man, who had taken off his outside clothes and sat in only his grey wife beater tank top with his black sweatpants hugging his hips dangerously low, just on the base of his waist. he smiled at you as you observed him, tilting your head at him slightly.

"baby, why're you just standing there?" he asks you, and you bite your lip and put a hand on your hips.

"you've been so busy lately, y'know?" you pouted, "i missed you so much."

he sighs and runs a hand through his hair, nodding in agreement. "i've missed you too, angel. our schedule's just been so cramped lately, i miss spending time with you..."

"i understand," you nodded, suddenly standing upright as you give him a sly smirk. "but we've got tonight to ourselves, right sweet boy?"

his eyes widen slightly at your sultry tone, causing him to nod — you slowly unravel the material that holds your robe together, letting the fabric fall at your feet as you stand in your lingerie, your brown skin glimmering in the low lamp light provided.

matt's eyes roam every inch of your figure, drinking in the sight of you and the heat immediately rushes to his now hard dick as he almost salivates.

"fuck, my favorite color," he mumbles to himself, his hand going down to rub over his sensitive, but clothed cock.

you make your way towards him seductively crawling on the bed, stopping in front of him — he gets a view of your perfectly perked tits, biting his lip and resisting the urge to take the top half off and take one into his mouth.

you crawl into his lap, placing both your legs over his waist as your heat is directly centered with his already hard dick — you waste no time in connecting your lips slowly, your hands intertwining themselves behind his neck as you draw him closer to you.

his hands fly to your waist, gripping tightly as he squeezes the brown flesh needily, wanting you impossibly closer to him. your tongue explores his mouth, letting you do the work as you grind down on him eliciting a groan from him.

the buzz of his phone on the desk beside you breaks the heated moment between the two of you, causing matt to pull away with a sigh, rubbing his hand along the side of his face.

you raised your eyebrow at him, daring him to pick his phone up — he gulped at your stare, his hand going to reach for the cellular device. but before he could pick it up, you beat him to it, grabbing it off the desk and holding it in your hand, a grin overtaking your features as you hold it up and dangle it in his face.

"i'm not sentimental, but," you begin, biting your lip as you trace your free hand along his jawline, peppering kisses along it, "the way you look tonight? i need to savor this, baby."

whimpers draw from matt's lips as you suck on the sweet spot of his neck — another vibration follows from his phone, as he bucks his hips up towards you, but you pull away from his neck and sit there.

"i need you, please," matt mumbles out, and you bite your lip and grin as you slide his phone into his hand.

"then you better lock your phone," you instruct him, grinding down on his erection as both your hands connect around his neck once again, "and look at me when you're alone."

his eyes never leaving yours he powers his phone off, tossing it on the desk as you instantly connect your lips once again. matt's hands quickly fly to your hips again, digging into your soft flesh as he pulls you closer to him.

you leave a trail of kisses on either side of his neck, eliciting small whines from the boy, as you feel his erection poking your clothed cunt. "please baby, i need to feel you."

"don't worry sweet boy, i'm gonna take good care of you," you tell him, grabbing his jaw softly as you force him to look up at you, "you gonna be good for me?"

"yes," he whines, his hips bucking upward again, but you quickly slapped his hips, ceasing his movements.

with a smirk you get off of his lap and slowly inch downward until your face is leveled with his clothed cock, and you bite your lip at the small wet patch on grey sweatpants. "look at you matt, all worked up and i haven't even touched you. you're such a needy boy, you know that?"

he does nothing but whimper as you slide his sweatpants down and throw them to side, his boxers leaving next — your mouth salivates at his length, taking in the leaking tip and the thick vein that runs along the side of it.

"such a pretty cock," you tell him, your hand wrapping around his shaft as you spit on it, beginning to stroke him, "you like the way i touch you, pretty boy?"

a moan leaves his lips as you continue to stroke him, running you thumb over his slit teasingly — however, you didn't take kindly to his lack of response, causing your movements to cease. "words, matthew. you like how i touch you?"

"y-yes baby, so much," matt whines again, his eyes pleading as he looks at you, "please, i need your mouth..."

"you need my what?" you ask him, continuing to stroke him once again, teasingly drawing your mouth closer to where he craved you the most.

"your mouth, please..."

matt's soft whines caused your panties to dampen as you finally lowered your head level with his cock, licking a stripe along the side of him, whilst keeping eye contact with him — he watches in awe as you do so, soft moans leaving his lips when you completely wrap your lips around his shaft, beginning to bob your head up and down in a rhythmetic pattern.

"fuck, oh my gosh," matt moans, his head thrown back as you continue deep throating his cock, "feels so good, baby."

you take him out of your mouth to teasingly lick around the head of his tip, staring up at him. it quickly turns into a glare as you realize his eyes are screwed shut, his head thrown against the headboard.

"look at me when i suck you off, or i'll fucking stop," you demand him, your hand no longer on his throbbing dick.

his eyes immediately snap towards you and you grin at this, wasting no time in placing your lips back onto his cock, sucking him off once again — you maintain eye contact with him as your head bobs up and down on his cock, pumping the rest of what couldn't fit in your mouth.

"m'close," matt moans, causing you to speed up your movements.

"cum for me, sweet boy."

that's all the confirmation he needed before his body convulsed as he shot his load into your mouth, along with a string of moans and curses of your name — you swallowed his load and licked the remainder off of his cock, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

a smirk adorns your lips as you strip yourself of your panties, matt watching in confusion — he then watches as you level yourself with his cock, lining yourself up but he shakes his head in protest.

"m'too sensitive, baby, i can't..." he whines out, causing you to pout with faux sympathy.

"thought you were gonna be a good boy for me?" you tsk, leaning over him as you grab both of his hands, holding them above his head, "c'mon baby, i know you can give me another one."

you fully sink down onto him, letting out a moan as you do so — you let go of his hands momentarily, stripping yourself of the top half of your lingerie. matt watches in awe, biting his lip as you grip both of his arms and pin them down by his sides, slowly beginning to rock your hips back and forth on his dick.

"fuck baby, you fill me so well," you moan, your hips moving at a faster pace, him letting out whimpers as his brunette hair sticks to his forehead. "your cock was made for me."

"you feel s-so good, y/n," matt whines out, bucking hips up to meet your pace.

you continue to rock your hips back and forth, your mouth slightly open as you look down at matt's fucked out expression — his lips were parted slightly as he looked up at you, his eyes blown wide, and you noticed his eyes on something in particular — his eyes stayed glued on the way your tits bounced above him, causing you to bite your lip.

"go on baby, i see you looking," you say, unpinning his arms from his sides, and his hands immediately fly to grope your tits in his hand.

his mouth attaches to your left nipple, sucking and nipping on it as you throw your head back, bouncing up and down on his cock. your orgasm is approaching quickly, causing your bounces to become sloppier.

"you've been such a good boy for me, baby," you moan out, "what do you want your reward to be?"

"can...can you sit on my face?" matt asks you, his hands gripping your waist still as you continue to bounce.

you nod and begin to slide yourself off of him, your pussy squelching with how wet it already was — you slowly hover over matt's face, sinking yourself slowly until you feel his nose graze your clit.

like a starved man, he quickly laps at your cunt, licking up all your juices as you grip the headboard. "fuck, right there matt!"

his tongue goes to work creating figure eights, diving into that sweet spot as he savors the taste of you. uncontrollable moans leave your lips as you feel him groan which sends vibrations through your cunt.

"making me feel so good, baby," you moan as you grind onto his face, throwing your head, "i'm gonna cum!"

matt continued lapping at your pussy, as your orgasm approached fast — your juices squirted all over matt's face, and he licked every drop as if it'd be the last time he had a meal.

he helped you ride out your orgasm, before you fell beside him, both of you panting and out of breath. you looked down at your boyfriend, seeing your juices glistening on his chin. he looked up at you and smiled, to which you moved the sweaty baby hairs that stuck to his forehead.

"let me get you a towel, okay?" he said, and he nodded, puckering his lips out for a quick kiss.

you kissed him quickly, getting up and returning with a small, wet towel, wiping his face off, then planting another sweet kiss to his lips.

to your surprise, matt deepened the kiss and flipped you over so that he was on top, and you laid underneath him, a shocked expression on your face.

"you thought we were done for the night, angel? i hope you got your phone on dnd."

lil 💌

hii @thesturniolos im soz this took so long bae bae, but shes here !! ts is also for my lover @middlepartmatt titled after ur fav billie song ❤ I hope you freaks enjoyed this ! i loved writing it <3

@luverboychris @muwapsturniolo @prettiest-poision @mattsturniolosleftnut @mrssturnioloo @guccifrog @junnniiieee07 @astrowh0r3 @v33angel @ilovechrissturniolo1 @e1ias3 @l0akkzz @hysteria-things @eyeliketoeatpoosay @sturn777 @stasiesturn @prettypinkprincess15 @breeloveschris @summerssover @mayhem-72 @riasturns @chrissturniolossidehoe @moonk1ss3d @v33angel @h3arts4harry @stargirll567 @bitchydragonparadise @heartsforchrisandmatt @pepsienthusiasts @tillies33ssss @thenickgirl @sturnprime @summerssover @k4di333 @pinksturniolo @middlepartmatt @jnkvivi @hoesformatt @hysteria-things @cottoncandyswisherz

[nvuy]

hi! back with my bullshit. i've been feral about jing yuan lately, AGAIN. this man never leaves the crevices of my barely-wrinkled brain. this time, i'm thinking about sparring with him... you're both grinning and out of breath and you swear jing yuan is trying to rile you up even more with his constant grabbing you whenever he can. and then you end up pinned under him, with his big hands squeezing every piece of your skin he can like he's trying to tear you apart.. oh i'm drooling

punching bag — jing yuan

summary. you regret day in and day out that you asked general jing yuan to help you work on your swordsmanship, and it doesn’t help that he barely takes it seriously.

notes. hi mords my little goober this is for u. also for anyone that likes jing yuan. and praise. and ummm. sweaty sword fighting and making out. i guess.

warnings. minor innuendos. you can tell how i feel about jing yuan just by this piece alone.

“Stick it, old man.” Your sword blocks his, and you gasp in triumph. His blade is inches from your throat, but your own keeps it in place.

It is heavy, though. You geniunely wonder how he’s able to even fight with something that can crack a tree log in two faster than an axe can.

You pant in exasperation, and you almost choke on your spit with excitement. Though you feel as though to your face is on fire and your hair is matted with sweat, the smile on your face is golden.

General Jing Yuan grins. His teeth flash. “Well done.”

You pull back the weapon after a moment, exhausted as you swallow thickly. There’s adrenaline coursing through your veins, and your heart is pumping so sporadically you’re sure it’s about to escape from your throat.

Then, you do it again, and again, and again, and again, and your triumph slowly moulds into something worse. You feel utterly pathetic, being able to fend off the General of the Luofu as if it’s like spreading butter on bread.

To that, you lower your weapon after what seems like hours, but was only a few minutes. “Are you even trying?”

Jing Yuan teases you with a taut smile. “Why would you think otherwise? What if you’ve just dramatically improved?”

You scrunch your face up at that.

His eyes light up with mischief before he raises his weapon. “Come. Again.”

Hesitantly, you draw your blade once more. It’s the same cut as his, you’re sure, for a more even match. It’s hardly ‘even’ though, when one wrong move will have his weapon cracking yours into two. And you feel it every time you manage to stop him.

You clear your throat and stumble back for a moment. Maybe a second of pep talk and talking down to yourself. That usually works

Jing Yuan yawns when you take too long. He’s not even looking at you; rather, he’s busy observing his weapon for any impurities on the blade.

That sets you off.

Your face burns with fury and you reel your fist backwards until it flies at his stupid, dumb, handsome face.

He catches your knuckles easily with his palm. “Someone’s growing claws,” he whispers. He taps you lightly on the leg with his blade. “I am teaching you the way of the blade, first and foremost, before hand-to-hand combat.”

“Scared I’ll land a punch, old man?” you spit, trying to swipe at his face again.

“Terrified,” he responds. “Now. Shoulders back. Again.”

You huff.

Again.

He blocks.

He dodges.

You curse at him at first. He only replies with a fond chuckle.

Then, you stumble, over and over again. He manages to trip you with his foot about ten times. On the eleventh attempt, you stop his attack with a stomp on his blade, but he simply pulls it out from underneath you.

You pull the blade forward and try to slice his face in half. His weapon stops yours almost too easily.

You grow frustrated and almost throw your weapon to the floor in defeat.

“Start trying a little less?” you ask him through bated breaths.

“Having a rough time?” he teases before simply side stepping your next manoeuvre with his eyes shut, before one gentle shove of his finger against your back as you stumbling right to the floor. “Again. You aren’t balanced.”

You try to stand up, but your legs give out, and you crumble to your knees again. He’s not even holding you against the floor, and embarrassment flares in your stomach.

You try fanning at your face with your hands. The afternoon sun is beating down hot and hard, and you’re clearly not the only one struggling. Jing Yuan busies himself untying his hair to retire it since it has come loose and has begun sticking to his face.

You swallow distastefully as you stare up at him from the floor.

He straightens the ribbon in his hair and shakes out the sweat thats beginning to matt in his roots.

You’re too busy admiring his arms to give a shit about what he’s saying, considering his lips are moving. His stupidly big fucking arms. That you want him to squash you with until you can’t feel your face. And can’t breathe.

“Is that all you can take?” he hums. His palms must be sweating as he readjusts the fingerless gloves he’s wearing. He breathes out once, evenly.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you huff and manage to stand to your feet. “Some people aren’t immortal beings with ridiculous spouts of stamina.”

“The stamina comes from training,” he reminds. He’s retrieved your weapon, and he holds it out to you. “And discipline.”

Whatever. Begrudgingly, you snatch it from his hand and raise it.

“Imagine as if this is a fight to the death,” is all he tells you.

And you try. You really do try.

It’s almost as if he grows extra limbs when the time calls for it. Just when you believe both his hands are busy and you find an opening, he suddenly grows a third leg, or an extra finger, or something, and he’s magically stopped your next move. He can predict your every move; he can read every time you’re thrown off guard or you’re distracted or your foot stance is off. He doesn’t so much throw you to the floor, but rather allows gravity to do the work for him.

He does ensure you have a soft landing, however. So, you suppose he can play nice sometimes — that, and the last time he offered to be your punching bag, you’d ended up hitting your head so hard on the ground that you were stuck in the hospital for three days with a horrible concussion.

“Feeling any better?” he asked curiously a few hours after you’d been admitted. He’d been kind enough to visit your little room and was busy poking at a small teddy bear one of your friends had gifted you, alongside three cards and a bouquet of flowers.

That… he’d given you. Well, you think he did, because you don’t remember seeing them before he showed up. You were too miserable to really ask about it, though, so you kept your mouth shut.

“No,” you mumbled. “I feel like… shit.”

He hums sympathetically.

“I apologise again,” Jing Yuan said softly, slotting next to you on the bed and resting a hand on your arm. “If you need me for anything, do let me know.”

You take a deep breath to try and settle your queasy stomach.

“Yeah,” you slurred. Watching him is hard work as it is; you’re already dizzy and nauseous and you were growing antsy and worried that you’d need to puke again. Negative points if the General had to witness it. “Fuckin’ catch me next time.”

He grinned and lightly pinched your cheek, much to your chagrin. “Yes, General.”

You almost fly to the floor again, and Jing Yuan grabs at your hips and straightens you quickly.

You murmur, “I’m not gonna die if I fall.” Your face is hot with blood and you try to turn away from him to hide it.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.” He’s even dusting off your shoulders and slicking back the short hairs stuck to your forehead. “You’re a fragile thing. I’d hate to see you get hurt again.”

You try and throw another punch.

He clicks his tongue when you almost crash your nose into his chest plate. And you’ve done that before — and Aeons, that hurt, too.

Miserably, you drop your sword and it clatters to the ground with a terrible noise.

You raise your arms up and thwack him in the chest lightly.

He hums. “Have I told you your arms look better?” He reaches and squeezes at one of your biceps. “Much better.” He looks content, and there’s a coy smile at his lips.

Your face burns.

Your eyes are sparkling, but disdain curls over your tone. “You’re a riot, General. Do you flirt with everyone like this?”

“Maybe,” he responds quickly.

You step back and clear your throat as you retrieve your weapon. “Don’t make me jealous.”

He’s just simply dodging everything, and the flat side of his sword smashes against your stomach, neck, thighs, ribs, anywhere he can reach.

It doesn’t help with every soft land he hits on you, he follows it up with a quick, “dead.”

He taps your ankle at one point and does it again. Your teeth grit and you try to slice his hand clean off.

He easily removes himself.

“I can’t block every angle,” you defend as he straightens up. “How can I block my face and my feet at the same time?”

“By foot stance,” he chimes in lightly. “Here’s a tip: stand back. A sword as deft as this one—” He reaches forward and pinches the tip of the blade between his fingers, “—can be used decently at a distance. Don’t stand directly in front of me.” He presents his own weapon. You don’t even try to hold it up. “Because of its weight, you have a distance advantage over me. And, I have to work around it.”

You listen. You don’t want to, out of spite, but you do. You know he’s not purposefully making you feel useless; he’s told you many times he thinks your skills are impressive. He’s more so attempting to rile you up.

And it’s working.

You’re too busy admiring his biceps to care. “Nice arms.”

He displays a boyish grin just for you. “Thank you.” Then, he readjusts his grip on the hilt. “If you weren’t so busy ogling, you’d have an opening.”

“I play nice, General,” you remind him. “I’m not going to cheat.”

“If you say so,” he taunts.

And then, he lunges for you.

General Jing Yuan hasn’t once initiated a fight on his hand, and it nearly takes you off guard. It’s been a back and forth of you trying to land a clean hit, and him easily avoiding your shots.

You just about manage to hold him off when you almost trip backwards. You regain your footing and nerves wrack up your spine. He swings again. He barely misses your neck when your sword clashes with his blade.

“Good,” he murmurs. “You’re learning.”

“Ooh,” you whisper. “I love it when you stroke my ego.”

“I know.” He tries again, this time reeling back and switching the blade to his left hand to try and catch you off guard. You block that one, too.

You giggle like an idiot.

Then, you shove him backwards with your sword and go for a swipe at his nose.

It doesn’t exactly go the way you planned. Not on your part. Jing Yuan praised you afterwards for the execution, but this is the General of the Luofu, and if he wanted to win, he would win. At any cost.

He trips you over just as easily as he had the other eleven times. Your hands instinctively fly out towards the ground to cushion your fall, but you don’t quite make it all the way into the grass this time.

He catches you again, this time in some makeshift position as if you’d been dancing instead of trying to literally kill him, but he does keep your head from smashing into the floor again. You can feel the headache forming just thinking about it.

Jing Yuan knocks the sword from your hand and it falls by your feet.

“I was having fun,” you whine lowly to him. “You always spoil everything.”

There’s exhilaration there, and you feel it surge in your heart, hot and heavy. You’re excited, somewhat. The adrenaline pumps through your veins, and your skin is so warm and light you feel as though you could pop at any moment.

It doesn’t help your case that the general is so close to you, and has a smile so wide you’re worried his face will split into two.

You admire him for a moment too long.

A moment so long that his grin grows impossibly wider, and mischief flares in his eyes.

His grip loosens.

Your heart drops to your stomach.

You scrabble in a panic and your arms swing around his shoulders.

He holds you again with a snicker.

“You win,” you declare finally. “I’m going home.”

“Sure.” He doesn’t move. “If you can free yourself, that is.”

You barely try to wriggle from his grasp before sighing. “C’mon. I’m tired.” His grip doesn’t even loosen his hold in the slightest. “We can do this tomorrow.”

“This is your last test,” he announces, somewhat dramatically. “Imagine that this is your final moment to choose between life and death.” With one hand still encircling your waist, the other lets go reach downward just enough to retrieve your sword. “There is very little you can do.”

The sword gently taps against your sternum, angled just enough for the tip to barely threaten a carving into your chest.

You claw at his arms, but he doesn’t budge. Your back strains with the position he holds you in, and your legs barely have enough leverage to keep you standing.

You are quite literally at his mercy.

And again, your footwork is off.

You grunt when he leans in close. Way too close for comfort. You feel somewhat like a caged animal, and you’re sure you look the part.

“There are decisions you can make, however,” he chides. “Five seconds. Think.”

You glance down at your weapon pointed at your chest. You hesitantly unwrap your arms from around his neck and try and grab at it.

In the time it’s taken you to muster the courage to let go of him, his grip loosens around your waist again. Your heart drops and you quickly curl your arms around his shoulders again.

“Too slow,” is all he remarks. “Four.”

You make a desperate attempt at wriggling from his grasp, but he only chuckles at your futility.

“Three.”

You almost give up. “This is dumb.”

“Two.”

You narrow your eyes at him. The worst idea springs to mind, and for the final second, you second-guess yourself.

“One–”

Your hands shift from his arms to his cheeks, and you draw him as close as you could before you strained your neck upwards.

Your lips press against his in a last ditch effort as a distraction, and for a moment, you believe it doesn’t work. He completely freezes up and stiffens in your grasp like a corpse.

The sword still presses to your chest, and you find it uncomfortable to inhale for a moment. It feels as though one wrong move will send the sharpened blade driving forth into your skin.

And then, he drops the weapon in favour of slotting his hand behind your head and keeping you on him. The sound of metal hitting the floor rings distantly in your ears.

His lips are coated in sweat, and you taste salt and oranges. The scent is addicting enough, oddly, and you sigh into his mouth with relief.

His hand wanders. Not dangerously, but enough to keep you alert. It slides from your hair to your throat, and it remains against your jugular for a good long while. His thumb then flutters to the notch and keeps you still and placated.

Then, he rubs gently at your sternum, as if in apology. You pay it no mind. Your hands are still, save for the gentle stroke at the nape of his neck.

He’s teasing you, you figure out, even when he’s all wrapped around your finger like the ribbon in his hair. He pulls away constantly to see if you’ll give chase, and of course you do.

You’d feel almost pathetic if he wasn’t eagerly returning the kiss like an idiot.

He then pulls away. Much too quickly for your liking.

You frown and try to tug at his hair to bring him on your tongue.

Jing Yuan presses his fingers to your lips. “I thought you said you played nice?”

“Whatever, handsome,” you mumble. You reach upwards and tussle his already messy hair.

His lips are red with spit. Your spit. You did that. Gross.

Your heart flutters and you giggle.

“That would’ve been a good time to throw a punch,” he says after a moment.

You think about it. Then, you reel your fist back and aim at his face. “Sure.”

His other arm holds strong wrapped around your waist when he catches your wrist. Instead, he places soft kisses along your knuckles.

Something hot bubbles in your stomach. Easy.

“Will you kiss every opponent that bests you like that?” Jing Yuan asks quietly, a sneaking grin growing on his reddened lips.

You hum softly and cup his face gently. “Maybe.”

He scoffs lightly. “Don’t make me jealous.”

[beenbaanbuun]

Haiii this might be a weird request but I wonder if you could write an angsty Addams!MATZ fic 😭 so sorry if this is weird I've just been feeling really angsty! You can choose whatever happens lol I just wanna cry 🫶🏽

sorry i didn’t write this sooner!!! i really wanted to but i’ve been super busy over the past few days :(( i never feel super confident writing angst but i did my best!!! i hope you enjoy :D

——————————————————————————

hongjoong yelled at you… hongjoong never yells. he doesn’t yell when yeosang is being difficult to train or just acting downright feral. he doesn’t yell when clients are being cheeky and asking for far too much. he doesn’t even yell when you’re being a brat and he slips into ‘dom mode’ to punish you. yet he yelled at you just a few minutes ago…

why?

it’s your fault, you tell yourself. if you’d just listened when he told you he was busy, none of this would’ve happened. he was already stressed so why did you think being a brat and pushing his buttons would be a good idea? of course he wouldn’t want to deal with you when he already so much else on his plate with work. it was dumb of you to even think he’d give you the time of day.

you try and keep your tears to a minimum as you stalk through the house. noisy crying would only be another distraction to hongjoong and you don’t want to upset him any more than you already have done. still, despite your best attempts, you can help the shuddered breathing and quiet sniffles as you make your way down the stairs and towards your favourite spot in the house.

the fire is already crackling, drawing you in like the pied piper. you can hear the hushed conversation behind the soft crepitation, but you ignore it, entirely too focussed on how nice it will be to flop onto your favourite rug and fall into a slumber. perhaps when you wake, everything will be fine. maybe hongjoong won’t be mad at you anymore. he’ll smile at you as he tells you you’re forgiven, placing a kiss to your forehead, and then your nose, and then your lips. he’ll take you up into his arms and apologise for yelling, speaking to you in the softest, most gentle voice he can muster. it’s a nice thought…

you reach the doorway to the living room, staring up at the large, oak arch that reaches high above your head. it’s carved with intricate details all hand finished by their artist friend, yunho. most of it represents their respective histories, each of their tales beginning from the bottom of the arch and climbing the wood like vines until they reach the apex at the top. prior to your arrival, their wedding had been the carving at apex of the arch, the image of two ravens, each holding a ring within their beaks, sat proudly above everything else.

now, though, the image at the top is entirely different. a lamb with dove wings and a dainty collar around its neck. the ravens still sit proudly on either side of the creature, watching over it as it sleeps. as you stare at it, you can’t help but wonder whether hongjoong will still be upset with you come bedtime. there’s a spare room down the hall that you used to sleep in when you were nothing more than their sugar baby and it was too late for them to send you home alone. perhaps you’ll have to reside in that room tonight, cold and alone and unable to sleep without the warmth of your lovers on either side of you. the thought has you biting your lip to silence a sob.

it doesn’t quite work. you still involuntarily whimper, catching the attention of both seonghwa and yeosang. their hushed conversation halts to a stop as they see you at the doorway, eyes wide and wet as you stare up at the very tippy-top of the arch. your fingers tangle themselves up as they helplessly fiddle with one another, tugging and twisting and picking until blood begins to pool along one of your nail beds. seonghwa can’t recall a time he’s ever seen you like this, and there werewolf had certainly never. they share a wary look.

“my darling lamb,” seonghwa calls to you in a hushed voice. he doesn’t want to startle you by being too loud, but he needs to pull you from this anxious haze you’d found yourself trapped in. he can’t lie that he’s a little relieved when your red ringed eyes flicker over to meet his. smiling is the last thing he wants to do upon seeing you in this state, but he knows his gentle disposition will calm you; it always does. his lips curl up softly. “what happened?”

the werewolf that has taken up residence on your favourite rug watches with concerned eyes. ever since his arrival, you’ve been an annoying little shit. an absolute thorn in his side when he wanted nothing more than to have a peaceful existence in his new home. you have no respect for personal space, you never know when to shut up, and you’re always way too cheerful all the time. they were facts that yeosang just had to accept when he realised you weren’t threatened by his harsh growling and gnashing teeth. all those times he had you pinned to the floor, spit spraying as he warned you to leave him the fuck alone only to have you giggle in his face and call him pretty; that person is nowhere to be seen right now.

“pup?” he hums, deep voice grumbling as his worries work themselves into his tone. even though he quite thoroughly despised you on his entry to the house, it seems you have this magical ability to work your way into the hearts of anyone you set your sights on. you set your sights on him before you even knew him; it took you no time at all to become one of his top priorities. “tell us what’s the matter. we can’t help unless we know?”

you take a few tentative steps into the room, bare feet tapping lightly against the parquet floor. they’re so used to your thundering footsteps as you traverse the house at your excitable pace. the silent footsteps you take towards them make their skin crawl.

you reach the rug, gently lowering yourself until your bare thighs hit the soft fur. your pastel blue skirt—the one that seonghwa had picked out to match the werewolf’s fuzzy blue jumper—bunches up around your waist, but neither of them have the time to admire how perfectly slutty it looked. it hardly seems right when you continue to wordlessly snivel and whimper, not even bothering to lay yourself down alongside your favourite werewolf-shaped pillow.

“hongjoong was mean to me,” you whimper, and seonghwa can’t lie, it confuses him.

hongjoong is mean to you a lot. it’s how he punishes you for being a brat, bullying you into submission until you decide to be a good girl. he calls you names, pushes you around a little—it’s nothing too severe but still enough for him to have earned the reputation as the crueler of the two of them. for a second, seonghwa thinks he’s landed on the answer, you must’ve been a little too bratty and couldn’t handle the consequences…

but that still doesn’t make sense.

if you couldn’t handle the consequences then that must’ve meant you weren’t in the right headspace to be punished. that in itself is nothing new, although normally, you tend to realise that before you decide to go and act out. it could’ve been the case that you didn’t realise you weren’t feeling up for a punishment but then you should’ve used your safeword. the fact that you’re sat downstairs with him and yeosang and not snuggled up in hongjoong’s arms is testament to the fact that you can’t have done that either. his husband would never do something so utterly stupid as to let you out of his sight when you’re clearly still upset over a scene you stopped.

so what happened?

did you just force yourself to take a punishment you didn’t want? no. seonghwa knows you’re too smart to do that just like he knows his husband is too observant not to notice. it’s something else entirely. something that seonghwa just can’t put his finger on.

“i need a little more information than that, darling,” seonghwa coos as he leans forwards to rest his elbows on his lap. his chin sits prettily in the palms of one hand, the other coming to rest atop your head. he pets you a few times, his touch like a cloud as tries to soothe you. your shoulders relax a touch, but your fingers still pick at one another in your lap. seeing you in such a state makes his heart sink. “lamb, what exactly did hongjoong do to make you so upset?”

you sniffle, separating your hands for just a second to wipe your tears away. they fall right back onto your lap, twisting and tugging and smearing the blood around. seonghwa can’t help but be thankful that nothing in the house is pale enough to be stained by your blood; otherwise he’d be marching you the bathroom to wash your hands, begging you to tell him what happened as the two of you walk.

“he yelled at me,” you say simply, as if that would answer all of seonghwa’s questions. it doesn’t. in fact it only fills his mind with more.

“he yelled? as in he raised his voice?” seonghwa asks softly. he hopes that the answer is no; that you just mean that hongjoong has scolded you for something. it’s a little bit of a strong reaction for just a small telling off, but you have been known to take these sorts of things to heart.

but you nod, and seonghwa’s heart sinks. hongjoong never yells at anyone, let alone you, his little dove. seonghwa and yeosang pass an odd look between them.

“master yelled at you?” the werewolf hums as he shuffles his body closer to yours. an arm wraps around your waist and effortlessly tugs you until you’re lay flat against the rug alongside the pretty creature. he lays the hand atop your own, stopping you from doing any more damage to your nail beds. the blood that spills onto his hands is nothing that bothers him. “why would master do that?”

the question is more aimed towards seonghwa than it is you. as close as you are with the couple, it’s only really seonghwa that knows the inner workings of his husbands brain. he always has an explanation to everything hongjoong does…

“i don’t know,” he says, a frown taking over his beautiful features. you hate it because you know it’s your fault. you upset hongjoong, you got yelled at, you told seonghwa, and now you have upset him. every sign points to you…

“it’s my fault,” you whisper. yeosang’s arm tightens around your waist in an instinctive display of protection. from what, he isn’t too sure. “i just wanted him to take a break but he’s too busy right now. i should’ve known.”

of course. seonghwa could’ve guessed it would be down to stress. it’s been a rough few weeks for hongjoong, the stress of yeosang arriving and finding his way into their weird, mismatched family, mixed with an increase in customers with the jewellery business, it’s safe to say hongjoong had barely had a moment free. of course, yeosang has calmed a little by now, but that doesn’t take the stress of the business away from his poor husband. he’s still being worked half to death by demanding clients who have more money than sense.

seonghwa imagines that any moment now, his husband will come to his senses and see that you were just trying to do something nice. that you weren’t just being difficult for the sake of it—which, granted, you often are—but were instead just trying to take care of him. you lacked the grace and finesse that the two of them did, but you still tried. demons, it fills his heart with love to know that you desire to care for them in the same way they care about you. you’re such a precious little lamb for them; they must’ve done something very special in their past life to deserve you.

“oh, my lamb,” seonghwa mumbles through a soft smile, “you have nothing to blame yourself for except being at the mercy of your own empathy. you prodded him because you were worried and that’s very thoughtful of you. your daddy should be worshipping you for such a kind act. i’ll go and see if i can’t talk some sense into him, hm?”

he stands up, long flowing trousers pooling gracefully over his feet. his red nails dance along them as he straightens the material out, trying to iron out the creases with only his bare hands.

“i’ll be back soon,” he hums, “let your puppy take care of you for now.”

[shadowdaddies]

Ready for another azriel request??? I’m rereading the series right now so I’m BEGGING for some azriel action😭 I was thinking something a little angsty maybe azriel and the reader (obviously mated) get into an argument or he snaps at her or something like that (you can decide) and so she starts to distance herself and one day she gets attacked or kidnapped or something (again you can decide) and azriel is panicking and stuff. I just really want some groveling or begging or something idk. Ending with fluff obviously. Sorry all of my requests are long and detailed😭 thank you thooo❤️

hey love! I planned this out awhile ago but I've been busy with visiting family; thank you for the request as always💜

There With You

Azriel x Reader

warnings: reader is captured but no explicit torture, miscommunication trope

The rustling of leaves sounded to your right, hand instinctively reaching for the dagger at your hip as you and Azriel looked to the source of the noise.

A breath you hadn’t realized you were holding blew from your lips at the sight of the crow landing in the tree, dried Autumn leaves drifting to the ground beneath the creature.

Allowing your hand to drop from your weapon, you continued your walk through the wood, the distraction of the bird causing your misstep. 

The branch underneath your boot cracked in an echo that seemed to silence the rest of the forest, the world growing eerily quiet around you for a moment. Azriel stood still as stone to your left, hazel eyes simmering with something akin to anger.

“You need to be more careful,” he murmured, voice as soft and cutting as the cool wind that whipped through the air. Holding back the sigh that aimed to leave your lips, you hissed through your teeth, gaze slicing to meet your mate’s. 

“I stepped on a branch, Azriel,” you retorted, face growing heated at the awareness of how something as small as a snapping branch could blow your mission. Nonetheless, the condescension with which Az was speaking to you was enough to lead you to dig your heels in for this argument. “A cracked stick in the forest isn’t going to summon the entire Autumn Court,” you muttered bitterly.

A scarred hand took your arm in a gentle but firm grip. “You know well that we do not need to summon the High Court. A farmer looking to gain favor with Beron could see us. That is all it would take to destroy the mission...” he trailed off, removing his hand to drag it over his tired features. 

“I told Rhys this was a bad strategy. He knows how much more difficult you make this,” your mate grumbled, barely loud enough for you to hear. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you stopped abruptly.

Azriel’s eyes widened, jaw dropping slightly as his head turned to you. Before he could speak, you raised a stiff hand, pausing him in his own tracks. “I make this difficult? I didn’t realize what a burden I am, Azriel.” The words spewed from you in a fountain of anger, welling up inside, hands clenched at your sides.

“Let’s go in different directions. We’ll cover ground more quickly, and we can find the book and get out of here... without making this anymore difficult for you,” you shot over your shoulder, shaking off the shadow that tried to keep you from walking away.

A soft huff sounded from behind you, betraying the feelings of guilt you could feel through the bond before you shut it off. Drawing your dagger, you angrily whacked at any branches and leaves that dared cross your path, stomping through the wood in search of the book Eris had taken from his father’s study for you. 

Blinded by your anger, you missed the sound of soldiers being winnowed in behind you until it was too late. The rush of leaves on the wind perked your ears, but by the time that you turned to see one of the Vanserra brothers behind you with his guard, a circle of fire had engulfed you. 

Walls of flame surrounded you, a dome of heat drawing the oxygen from your lungs as black spotted your vision. Opening the bond with your little remaining strength, you felt Azriel’s panic before losing consciousness. 

~~~

You awoke in a damp room, dark save for the flickering fae light in the center of the cell. Head pounding you force your eyes to take in the cold, wet stone, the wall to which you are chained. 

Mouth dry with thirst, your head bobs towards the creaking door, a vaguely familiar figure stepping through it. “Keep this closed. We don’t need anyone above hearing what happens in here.” Dark laughter sounded from the guards as they dutifully closed the heavy door.

The moment the bar slid into the lock, amber eyes shot to you, Eris’s voice laced with concern as he spoke. “Where is Azriel?” he demanded, a soft hand cupping your jaw as he helped you focus on him. 

Swallowing thickly, you gazed up at the flaming red hair, burning whiskey eyes that demanded an answer that you wouldn’t, couldn’t give. “We split to cover more ground quickly,” you muttered, a half-truth. “We were struggling to find the book you left for us.”

The last part came out as a hiss, Eris’s hand dropping from you as though burned by your words. Any sign of pity left his expression, the mask of Autumn Lord slipping on easily. “Of course he would struggle with such simple instructions,” he drawled, looking down at you, a cat toying with a mouse.

An exasperated huff of laughter escaped you at the male bravado. “If you could discard whatever issue exists between you two for one moment,” you shot back, “I would appreciate some assistance - perhaps some context - to our current situation.” 

Yanking on the chains for emphasis, your expression turned from teasing to paled at Eris’s grim reaction. The Lord’s lips thinned as he blew out a quiet breath, golden eyes searching the thick walls of the room before he dared to speak.

“I cannot let you escape under my watch,” he muttered, a hand running through the deep red of his hair, gears turning in his head. “Azriel knows where you are. I have asked one of my more... inept brothers, to guard you while I arrange a meeting with my father.”

Flames danced in his eyes, searing intensity reminding you of Eris’s power when he turned to you. “If any harm comes to my younger brother, be assured that your mate will regret ever crossing the boundary into my Court.”

Something sparked inside of you at his words, the intensity with which Eris defended his family. Respect welled deep inside of you, breath short as you nodded. “I will keep your family safe, Eris,” you breathed, fighting the smile that tugged at your lips as his features softened under the comfort of your promise.

“Make sure your bond is open so that he can sense you,” Eris directed, turning on his heel to leave. You did as he said, opening your bond as you reached out in any direction for where Azriel might be. Eris’s steps halted for a moment, a sharp catch in his breath before he shook his head, hand lifting to knock on the cell door. 

Eris didn’t bother to look back when he strode through the archway, graceful steps leading him from the depths of your enclosure. One guard flashed his yellow teeth in a grin that sent disgust through you, your middle finger struggling to angle in response before he slammed the door.

No sooner had the dust settled from the sliding entryway than shadows swirled in front of you, Azriel materializing in the darkness. Your mate collapsed to the ground in front of you, his knees hitting stone as wings sagged behind him.

“I am so sorry,” he choked out, hazel eyes glowing with unshed tears in the dim light, “I failed you.” Your heart cleaved in two at his statement, shaking your head vigorously as you fought to keep your own emotions in check. 

“Azriel, you didn’t fail me. I am the one who left, who makes things difficult...” you swallowed at those words, shame overwhelming at the thought of holding back your mate, your Court. 

Panic was etched across Azriel’s features as he reached for your chains, regret and love flowing through the bond. “No,” he ground out, “that is not what I meant.” His forehead rested against yours, slick with sweat as the shackles broke free.

A scarred hand found your cheek, the outside world ceasing to exist as Azriel’s gaze focused on you. “I am a fool,” he murmured. “I meant to say that missions with you are difficult because you are all that I can focus on, you are all that I care about. I am the burden, because I would throw away any mission, any Court, any world to keep you safe.” 

His throat worked, voice thick as his lashes wetted with tears. “And yet I still failed you, still nearly lost you because of my own inability-“ 

Arms wrapping around him, you ignored your wrists, sore from the shackles, in favor of twining your hands at the nape of your mate’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Love and admiration flowed both ways through your connection, and despite everything, you couldn’t fight the smile you offered Azriel.

“You are not, and have never been a failure, Azriel. You are my love, my perfect mate, and I should have stayed to communicate instead of trying to prove myself to the one person who I know I don’t have anything to prove to.” 

Azriel nodded, a beautiful smile stretching across his lips as he lifted you into his arms. “You are perfect. And I am sorry that I ever let you forget it,” he whispered, sweeping you into a pool of shadows as he transported you out of the dungeons.

Once more you were surrounded by the crisp air of the Autumn Forest, the moonlight shining down on the babbling brook as you walked hand-in-hand with your mate. “We still have to find the book,” you noted, bumping Azriel’s shoulder in playful reminder.

He laughed softly, hand reaching into the side pocket of his leathers to pull out a small leather-bound journal, waving it in the air. “Found it just as I heard the Autumn soldiers,” he grimaced, eyes shuttering at the memory. 

Your hand found his arm, giving a reassuring squeeze as you leaned your head against him, quiet comfort settling over the two of you. 

“Let’s head home, then,” you whispered. “I could use a warm bath.” You felt Azriel’s lips press against your hair, strong arms scooping you up effortlessly.

Azriel’s warm breath tickled your neck, shadows dancing as the Autumn Court began to fade around you, darkness swallowing the landscape. “As long as I get to be there with you.”

[stanpinesdykewife]

How do you feel about breeding kink ? Kinda a request for Stan/reader haha

HELLO thanks for sending this in! so i've never been a big breeder (breeding kink enjoyer) but you and several others are really into it so i finally gave it a shot!!! enjoy! and check out my friend's breeding kink fic at the bottom if you're into this :) under the cut:

knock knock stan/reader (fem!reader) (unless you're me and can ignore the gender implications of "mommy") pre/during/post-canon/unspecified smut, 1954 words (bonus: fic rec at the bottom)

It starts out like the normal, mostly-vanilla sex you usually have with Stan.

You two go out, get tipsy, come home, and make it through approximately half an episode of your joint show before slipping into a sloppy makeout. It's not exactly routine, but it's expected, and it's a hit for a reason. Sex with Stan is good, full stop. Which is why you’re always surprised when something new comes along that makes it even better.

“Hngh—Fuck,” you choke out, your voice catching behind your teeth as Stan sinks into you. You're on your back, staring with bleary eyes at the sight of Stan's flushed face above you. He's sitting on his heels with your ankles on his shoulders, his hands holding firmly at your plush hips as he grinds into you. “Fuck. God, please.”

“Told you you'd have to beg for it this time, didn't I?” Stan chuckles, stroking over your soft skin with his thumbs. He sounds gentle, but he's grinding into you hard, enough that each forward roll of his hips has your whole body rocking with it. He'd been fucking you so hard earlier, so good, but he does this thing sometimes—he stops altogether to get you talking. He loves when you talk to him. “Go on, then, sweetheart. You want it, right?”

“Y-Yeah,” you say, stuttering at another press of his dick into you. You gasp when he pulls back, drawing out only halfway before grinding in again. Your voice is wobbly when you say, “Yes, yeah. I want it, please fuck me, oh, fuck—I wanna come. Wanna make you come in me.”

You know, even through the haze in your mind and the growing blush on Stan's face, that that's a normal thing for you to say. It never gets old, and it's never untrue. Asking Stan to come in you always feels really fucking good. You're having a really good night.

“I know, baby. You want me to fill you up,” Stan says, full-on smiling down at you. His eyes are warm and a little unfocused as he draws out again, then pushes in, keeping that same romantic rhythm he's had since slowing down. His voice is low, almost drowsy, when he adds, “You want it to stay there, too? Want it to take?”

“Wh—Huh?” you ask, your mind a little preoccupied to register all the words coming out of his mouth. You're a little too busy staring at him, at his dark eyes, his crooked grin, then lower, to the hair on his chest leading down to his belly. Stan huffs out a good-natured laugh at your obvious spacing out.

“You always ask me to come inside.” When your gaze finally wanders back up to his, he's already staring at you. Stan chuckles again and adjusts his grip on your body, unintentionally hiking your hips up a little. He clarifies, “It's almost like you want me to knock you up.”

Your jaw drops open at that. A new wave of heat curls in your abdomen, making your fingers twitch, and your legs suddenly tense. Stan was half-joking, you know he was, but it's too late to pitch him a laugh and play into it. His brows raise, and you can practically see the gears turn in his head when you blink at him in mild shock.

Then the light bulb clicks on, and Stan's expression brightens in the way it always does when he learns something new about your body. Despite yourself, you smile, too, a flustered giggle bouncing from your throat when you realize he's about to pounce.

“W-Wait, I didn't—” You have no clue what excuse you were going to give to clear your name of a kink you didn't even know you had, but Stan interrupts you so you don't have to find out. You squeal when he suddenly grabs you by the thighs and adjusts your body, manhandling you into a new position. “Stan—!”

“You like that, huh,” he snickers, not unkind, as he shuffles himself up onto his knees without pulling out. One of your legs almost falls off his shoulders, but Stan quickly corrects it before snatching a pillow from your left and shoving it under your hips. He leans forward slightly, asking you again, “You want me to knock you up?”

Before you can answer, Stan gives you the first proper thrust he's given you in a while. Your back arches as you moan, your hips automatically rocking up into his as he starts a steady pace. Your hands grip the sheets, and you try to stave off the mild embarrassment in your chest. You try to welcome the excitement instead, growing warm in your stomach, making you tremble.

“That's right, honey. Feels good, don't it? Gonna put a baby in you.” The humor in Stan's voice fades slowly, overtaken by his little grunts as he fucks into you. You moan at one particular angle, Stan's dick pressing perfectly up against that spot in your pussy that makes your legs shake, and Stan chases it. He leans forward, over you, making your voice pitch higher and higher. He groans, “Fuck, so wet. You're all nice and warm for me, sugar. Perfect for my spunk.”

“Ugh, don't—ah—call it that,” you huff out, voice cracking in the middle as Stan picks up speed.

“Whaddya want me to call it?” he laughs. “My come? My kids?”

“Fuck,” you moan, like the breath's been punched out of you. Stan's hips stutter, and something in the air shifts. He groans, leans forward more, and soon your body is bent deeply at the waist with your legs hooked over his shoulders, your knees close to your chest. You don't know what this position is called. A breeding press? A mating press? The specifics are lost on you as you open your eyes, blinking up at Stan's handsome, flushed face.

He’s breathing deeply above you, his hot breath mingling with yours as he plants his hands on either side of you. Stan’s been teasing you all this time, but all of a sudden it doesn't feel so lighthearted anymore. Stan pauses when you meet his eyes. Shifts his weight on his knees.

“C-Can…” You swallow around the words. You're fucking salivating. You look at Stan shyly, through your lashes, and find the courage to ask, “Can you please put your kids in me?”

“Holy Moses,” Stan says, and then he's kissing you, all sloppy and heated and so fucking turned-on. You moan into his mouth when he starts pumping into you again, fucking his hips down into yours, and this angle is so fucking good you can't believe you've never tried it with him before, holy fuck. Stan is so deep inside you, pistoning his hips so hard he's fucking you right into the mattress with each thrust.

“Ah, ah, fuck, yes—” you gasp, breaking the kiss. Stan groans against your open mouth before pulling away, his eyes screwed shut as he presses his forehead to yours.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he grunts, shifting so his forearms are caging your head, holding up his weight. “Gonna fucking fill you up, gonna make you have my fucking kids—Fuck, I'm already close.”

“Yes, yes, please,” you whine, voice strained as you reach up to grab hold of something, anything, to keep you grounded. You feel like you're floating, so warm and dizzy at the thought of Stan filling you to the brim, and your hands somehow find their way up into Stan's hair. He groans again when you tug, and gives you a particularly rough thrust that makes you gasp. “Ah, shit—! Yes, I want it, want you to come in me, fill me up—”

“Yeah, just take my fucking load, baby, just take it,” he breathes, somehow much more intelligible than you are even as his hips start fucking into you unevenly, losing their rhythm. But Stan's thrusts get harder, his dick reaching deeper into your ready cunt, so deep you swear you can feel his precome leaking into your cervix, or maybe the thought of it is just so good that you're making shit up. But you snap back to reality at Stan mutters, his voice gruff, “Gonna come so deep in you, sweetheart—Hah, fuck, that's—Gonna make you a fuckin' mommy.”

You're coming, an intense orgasm rolling through you and forcing one loud, drawn-out moan from deep in your throat as Stan fucks into you with a few more frantic thrusts. You're gasping, cursing when you can spare the breath, and then you're whining high in your throat as Stan presses as deep as he can fucking go. His voice catches for a moment. Then he groans, long and loud, right into your face as he comes deep in you. It's so hot, literally, you can feel the heat blooming in your fucking cunt, can feel the way his thick dick twitches with its release.

“Fuck—Fuck,” Stan swears, shifting again so he can slide one hand to your hip. He hikes it up and shuffles closer on his knees, sighing once his lungs have the capacity. You're still catching your breath, still dizzy with warmth and post-orgasmic bliss as you think of that pocket of come being plugged inside you by Stan's softening dick. Stan breathes deeply in, then out. He’s still riding the tail end of his orgasm when he murmurs, “You okay?”

“Mm. Yeah,” you manage, carefully unwinding your fingers from his hair. When Stan can lift his head to look at you, his face is red with exertion. There's some drool slipping out the corner of his mouth, and you try a smile. “You?”

“Yeah,” he says, but he sounds distracted. He studies your features, reading your expression, and whatever you managed of a half-smile drops.

“What?” you ask. But then Stan nudges his hips back, just an inch, and slowly presses into you again. Your breath hitches in your throat, your hands flying to his shoulders to grip him there. “What are you—Ah, ah, fuck.”

You feel exactly what he does. Stan's come is slick in you, it always is, but the new connotations add so much to the warm, wet pool within your body. Stan grinds into you, getting your thighs and his abdomen slick with your come, then pulls out again. When he pushes back in, you both moan at how fucking easy it is. There's no resistance. His come is sticking the way, making it easier for him to fuck you.

Stan is still breathing deep, but another smile plays on his lips. He’s close enough that he only has to tilt his head slightly to kiss you, but it's chaste nonetheless. His grin is bright and affectionate. But it isn't quite innocent.

“You wanna try for another?” he chuckles, his hand smoothing over your skin to dip between your bodies, to press gently, reverently against your stomach. You jolt at the touch, but eventually your hips start rocking into him. Stan doesn't move. You're intoxicated by the thought of him keeping you like this, pinned beneath him, full of his come and plugged by his dick as he brings you to the edge with his fingers.

“Ah, shit—Fuck. Yeah,” you say, the corners of your mouth rising up to match Stan's grin. You play along easier this time. “Yeah. Please. As many times as it takes, right?”

“Gotta knock you up somehow,” Stan says, keeping eye contact with you, his voice oozing with affection. You chuckle at him. What a softie. Then his fingers press a little harder on your stomach, then dip lower, lower, to really touch you, and your mouth drops into a moan instead. “Gonna be such a good mommy.”

You're having a great night.

(inspo from Family Planning by burberryali, which dropped super recently and helped a lot while i learned to write this!!! if you like breeding and fluff and stan in general... which i know you do... this fic is for you! show it some love!!)

[luveline]

hi jade! I just want to preface this by saying I hope you’re having a good day. I noticed that you were hoping for some hotch requests and I figured I would send one in. if this is too vague or you just don’t feel inspired I completely understand, but maybe you could do something with a stressed hotch getting a little short with reader? he could be on edge because of a high pressure case, or something along those lines! nothing too angsty just some hurt/comfort, heavy on the comfort towards the end if you like! (p.s. I personally love all the eddie and roan as of late, so don’t let anyone make you feel obligated to write for characters you don’t want to.) <3 -w

hi! that is so so kind!! and please don't worry I feel no obligation for that, honestly!!<3 grumpy hotch x fem!reader

Hotch is in his office, like always. If you can't see him, you only ever need one guess as to where he is. And you haven't seen him for a few days now, which is weird and unlike him. When he's in your home state, he makes an effort to see you, to dote on you. 

You take his stairs slowly. Hotch will know it's you before you so much as knock on his office door. He has a hypervigilance that doesn't switch off —he could probably guess who it was by the sound of your breathing. 

"Hotch?" you ask, knocking his door for politeness' sake. 

He looks up for a split-second and not a moment longer. You're disappointed at his lack of reaction. How many times has he come home from wherever it is he's flown off to and hugged you hard enough to crack your spine? And, what? He doesn't like you anymore? What sort of reaction is that? 

"Um, I texted you. That I was coming by. Did you see?" you ask. 

"I've been preoccupied," he says, staring hard at the papers on his desk. He doesn't sound like himself. 

"It's been, like, four days since I've seen you. Since you've seen me. You don't wanna even look at me?" you ask. You wish it had come out softly, sweetly, but his behaviour (or lack of) has caught you by surprise. You sound as wounded as you feel. 

"If you'd looked at my text, you'd see that I'm busy," he snaps. 

Your lips part in silent shock. You drop your hand from the doorway where it had been resting and take a half step backwards and out of his office. Your movement draws his attention, and he finally sees the look on your face. 

"Are you serious?" you ask. 

He exhales bodily. "No." Hotch closes the folder. "No, I didn't mean that." 

You hover awkwardly. Truth be told, you want to run away from the situation entirely, unused to him being anything but kind. You'd like to turn around and leave before you can further embarrass yourself by showing your affection and having it rejected. He's caught you so off guard. 

"Come in, please. I do want to see you." 

You step inside and close the door behind you. It takes a gap of silence for you to decide on where you're going to stand, but eventually you round his desk and lean against it, forcing him to push his chair back in order to be face to face. 

"Is it a bad one?" you ask. 

He nods. "Right here in Quantico." 

You look at his shoulder rather than his face, worried you'll find more vehemence in his expression. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And I did read your text, I know you're busy, but busy doesn't tell me if you ate recently, or if you're tired, and those are the kind of things I worry about." You meet his eyes. They're always sombre, but affection softens his brow. You put your hands between your thighs to stop from touching him. "I worry about you, Aaron." 

He must know what you're doing. Tentative, as though worried he's overstepping, Hotch pulls one of your hands into his. He has very big hands, and they dwarf yours near completely when he sandwiches them together. 

"Don't think I didn't hear you, when you first came in," he says. "Hotch, you called me." 

"That's your name." 

He looks you straight in the eye, unabashed. Love lines his face, and apology, his lips curving slowly upwards in an uncommon smile. "Not to you," he murmurs. 

You're still mad at him for being snippy, but the relief of his fondness can't be understated. Your shoulders sag as you relax, your posture arching forward. Hotch leans upward so he can align your faces. If either of you moved an inch, you could kiss. 

"I spoke to you out of turn because I'm stressed. You didn't deserve it. I'm sorry. And I'm grateful to have you looking out for me." His smile abates. "It won't happen again." 

"It won't?" you ask. 

"I'll try my best not to let it." 

You swallow and lean down like you might kiss him, but in actuality you need a second to collect your thoughts. You try to be objective like he is, and it never works. 

Eyes closed, you say, "You've never snapped at me before." 

"I have no reason to." 

When he speaks, it's warm against your cheek. Hotch pulls your arm in a kind encouragement toward him and you follow blindly, setting as much of your weight as you trust him to take on his thigh. He wraps an arm around your back. His lips touch your forehead. 

"Sorry," he says again, rubbing your back. 

"It's not a big deal," you say. 

"I upset you. You weren't expecting it from me. It makes sense for you to feel disappointed." 

"It's not that," you say, thumbing his tie, anything to keep your fidgeting hands busy. "I'm being silly." 

"You're not." 

You're positioned in a twist on his lap, your leftmost ribs to his stomach. He hugs you to his chest and closes the gap between you, his arm encircling you, his hand stretches out across the space under your breasts. It's a comforting, all-encompassing hold. You basically collapse into him, hands desperate at his sides. 

"I missed you," you confess. 

"I miss you," he says, "I'm sorry for being mean." The hand that isn't stretched out across your front appears. He traces your face with two fingertips from the corner of your eye to your jaw, like he's following the path of an invisible tear. His hand flattens, his marriage and pinky finger weave behind your ear, and his thumb pulls at the corner of your mouth. It's so gentle you question if he's even touching you at all. 

He lifts your face to his and kisses you softly. 

"You're not mean," you whisper. "Just grumpy." 

He huffs a laugh through his nose. "Very grumpy. But two minutes with you is enough to make me feel better." 

You hum, "Mm, you're just saying that 'cos you're still in the doghouse, Hotchner." 

His hand falls to your lap. It isn't especially sexual, more intimate than anything as he eases your legs apart to squeeze the soft fat of your thigh. 

"You won't win me over that easily," you say. 

He smiles at you. "No, I don't think I will." There's a secret promise hiding between his words. 

[running-with-kn1ves]

Rough Day

A/N: Hardly proofread this because I just wanted to be DONE with it. I'm a bit annoyed that i've kind of adopted a 'same face syndrome' style for my writing. 

Synopsis: Your strong, silent husband comes home late after a tough day at work ready to use you as a stress reliever. 

TW: implied noncon/dubcon, arranged/forced marriage, Implied deaths + stalking, general fear, yandere-ish themes

Word Count: 2100

You were once preoccupied by a magazine loosely held between your finger tips, lazily glancing at its contents as you laid on your stomach. But the slam of your front door twisted your attention away from its pages-- the sudden boom making you jump. Your grip tightened, eyes watching the doorway.  Sharp, familiar footsteps filled the hall accompanied by the rustling of clothes as your husband stormed in. He flung his suit coat to the bed, Oxfords still clicking against the wooden floor of your shared bedroom. His steps were heavier than ususal; something happened. 

“How was your day?” You ask, jerking back to stare at the magazine as if it kept you safe from his wrath.

“Fine,” He responded. “It was work.”

You avoided his gaze when he began to take off his tie with unusual aggression. flipping a page in the flimsy book in your hands, an advertisement showed floral perfumes while a blog section detailed lists of expensive items celebrities were using now-a-days. You stared blankly at the page, trying to look as natural as possible on the bed. 

Your husband huffed and sighed; you would’ve offered to help him with the tie he seemed so desperate but unable to get off, but your mind told you otherwise. His general aura made you want to curl in a ball under the sheets to avoid it. You always felt he was intimidating --ever since you met him after hearing you were to be married from your parents-- but moments like this were when you were truly nervous. 

“Everything go okay with the meeting?” 

“Yes. The investors were perfectly--” Your husband tore off his stubborn tie, dramatically throwing it across the floor. “Fine.”

The way his teeth clenched and his body tensed, you knew this wasn’t just his regular cruddy day at work. You guessed it was something to deal with the business meeting he had been planning for weeks. 

Not much could get him worked up, but you knew this meeting was something that drastically affected his behavior depending on how it turned out. 

You didn’t respond as he finished getting undressed, flipping the magazine page once more, and again pretending to read. You knew it was only a matter of time before he looked to you, but you were trying to hold off on that for as long as possible. You realized even if you tried your usual approaches of wiggling out of his affection, he was too wound up to not pounce on you like a raging animal in heat. 

So you bid your time, silently pretending to read and hoping he’d get in the shower before trying to tackle you so you could play the ‘fallen asleep’ card. Goodness knows you don’t have enough energy to take him. 

But as you heard his buttons come undone one by one, and his hands began to draw nearer, you knew your time was up. You didn’t say a word as he grabbed you by the hips to pull you close, snatching the magazine from your hands to toss it on the floor.

You would’ve protested, if this was your first time dealing with him. But you knew that never played in your favor. All you could hope for was that he’d be gentler this time; less rough, perhaps with a little bit of thought and rationality in the way he manhandled you. 

“How was your day,” He asked, though you could tell he wasn’t really interested. 

“Well… uneventful I guess.” You yelped once he laid you across his body, resting up against the pillows as your head laid against his chest. “I tried to clean…a little…” You found it hard to speak once his mouth was against your ear. The gruff sighs and clearings of his throat never failed to cause shivers to run down your spine. It even tickled your neck, the air from his nostrils hitting the back of your ear. 

He hummed in response to your answer, sounding disinterested but as if he was listening. 

You regretted having changed into your pajamas already. He slid your clothes around with ease, the loose fabric letting him do as he craved to your body. 

The male was already latching onto you, a hand across your chest holding your shoulder, while the other was securely gripping your thigh, groping the flesh as his heartbeat slowed. 

You could hear his breath gently hitch as you let out an anxious squeak.

“So uh… what did the investors think?” 

You tried to make conversation, to not stumble over your words as your husband softly ran his lips down your neck, nuzzling into your shoulder with a hardness you knew was from how pent up he was. 

‘They were reasonably upset,” he unfastened the top two buttons of your shirt with a swift motion. “But right now it doesn’t matter what they think.” 

 He effectively ended the conversation with that line, making you purse your lips together as you tried to ignore the ticklish circles he rubbed into your flesh. From behind, he had full access to you, unable to let go of your warmth. Or rather, unwilling. 

The sound of his lips pressing against your skin filled the quiet bedroom, the gentle hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen faintly in the background. Your husband wanted to squish and feel you, to squeeze the soft parts of your body and squeeze them like a stress ball. There was also an, admittedly, large part of him that wanted to violently make love to let out all of his aggression instead. 

It was hard for him to hold back when you made such cute little sounds, reacting to even the smallest things. It boosted his pride more than it reasonably should’ve, especially since he knew how unwilling you were in this marriage. 

He snaked an arm up your loose night shirt, grabbing at your stomach and preparing to palm your chest with fervor. 

“Shouldn’t you eat dinner first?” You asked wearily, already dreading the bruises and love bites you knew you’d find on yourself in the morning.  

“I’m not hungry for food right now.” He whispered. 

 Biting at your ear, he massaged bruises into your thigh with his thumb. 

You knew he probably meant that he didn’t have an appetite, but his phrasing couldn’t help but make you grow hot and squirmy. 

“Don’t say it like that,” You groaned as his hand lifted under your shirt, running his ticklish fingernails up the dip of your chest. “And don’t touch me there!”

“I’m your husband, I can touch you where I want.” He mumbled into your neck, using an arm to hold your jaw. He pulled your face towards his with an uncharacteristic amount of desire. 

Your husband's lips touched yours with a pressure that convinced you would crush your mouth. 

He yearned for the touch of you, to want to squeeze so hard that you’d have a constant physical and mental reminder even when he left for work. It didn’t help that he was so closed off, focusing much more of his time on work these days to where he’d be touch starved by the time he got home. He’d still be as stoic and stern as ever, but with the added flavor of barking orders at you to sit on his lap and feed him. 

“You’re allowed to touch me, too, you know.”  

“Yeah.” You say, if only to have him stop talking about it out of your embarrassment. He was never one for extreme methods of affection until it came to these stress phases, which is why you couldn’t wrap your head around how physical he had become despite his distant personality. 

But tonight he was warm and intense, enveloping you with his body to prevent your always perfectly timed escape. You couldn’t help but notice how his hips rocked to slide against you, the male lazily grinding upwards as you laid spread like a star fish for him. He forced your thighs open to become available for fondling and led your hands to a comfortable position. He guided you every step of the way, hardly giving you free will as he touched without hesitation. You didn’t dare move away, slightly enjoying the attention, but also feeling a strange sense of nausea as he got rougher with each grind against your backside and every tug at your hips. 

He was getting impatient with just this. He wanted more. 

Your husband removed the stronghold on your leg to play with the elastic hem of your PJ shorts, tugging at it so that it let out a small ‘slap’ against your skin once released from his fingers. 

You would've caressed him back, would've kissed him with genuine desire and held him If he was truly befitting of the title "husband." But you knew the monster this man was. Married couples were supposed to cuddle and embrace, and lie with one another. But that was for spouses who were together willingly. That was if they felt some semblance of love and care. But your marriage was full of lies and threats, with death and forced servitude. You were civil with your husband, you looked the other way when you heard of a distant acquaintance who got too close dying, or finding a shiny black car following you down the street. 

You could ignore his damage to your loved ones and his constant need of possession over you, but you couldn't seem to love him the way a spouse should. You could endure it, much like other things. But when it came to moments like this, you could only dread his powerful hands and the more than bruised body he'd leave you with in the morning. 

“A-are you sure you want to do this now? You have work in the morning, and it’s already ten-” 

“I’m sure.”

Your husband exhaled against your ear with relaxation, not acknowledging your hesitation. He was so close to you, your body nearly melting into his as his body heat mixed with your clean scent; the day's sweat still clung to him from when he rushed from meetings into cabs. He could smell the shampoo in your hair, the lotion you applied to your hands before lying down. The businessman couldn't help but lean into your neck and take a deep whiff, the smell helping him find comfort despite how much he desired to release his pent frustration. 

“Just stay still for me…” He mumbled, pulling your shirt to the side to make room for his mouth. He bit down on your skin, refusing ro hold back as he dug his teeth deep into your flesh. You knew if he could, hed bite your flesh hard enough to tear; hed be able to consume a piece of you, and mark you deep enough for it to last forever. But though your husband was ruthless, he wasn't entirely a savage. So he settled for using your body to rub up against and squish, his teeth dragging along your soft skin with a longing desire in his eyes. 

You could see behind the tired look and superiority complex, his lust sat waiting. It lurked in shadows during the day for when he could finally lay his paws on you-- his perfect spouse. And now, at night and alone with you, he wasn't planning on being gentle with his hunger.

Your husband's striking hands were brought to your flesh greedily once more, over his sudden sentimental mood and interested in one thing: relieving himself without a forethought. 

One for being used to this fate, you didn't show reaction when he twisted you around, forcing you beneath him in a flurry of loose unbuttoned clothes and kisses. It didn't phase you when his pants fell partly down from his earlier undressing. As he planted rough kisses up your legs you didn't dare to speak or flinch-- didn't move as his white button up nearly slipped off, the bottom button having not yet been released. 

You could tell with the way your spouses hands dragged you, gripping and pinching as they pulled you beneath him. He seemed so… needy. You'd never say that outloud, but it was true. 

He pressed his lips down hard onto your skin and trailed up your abdomen. They were kisses that pinched your skin between his lips as restless fingers tugged at your nightwear. 

Even if you wanted to fight back, your husband moved so fast it wouldn’t have mattered. You were practically a ragdoll in his hands, a stress ball that could hardly comprehend his lust. 

And so, you let him ravage you. He released his heavy desires upon your body, forgetting the mess he’d make of you ‘til the morning.

[transmascaraa]

Hi! It's 🍓 anon again >_<

May I request Ga ming, Freminet, Thoma, Aether, Scaramouche + whoever you wanna add with a S/O whos kinda a depressed bed rotter?

yk, doesn't really get out of bed, doesn't take care of themselves

example: brushing their hair, their teeth, eating, cleaning (they don't know how to cook or do a lot for themselves anymore)

I've been kinda a bed rotter these months (few years) it's actually really embarrassing being in this state 😭😭

multiple characters headcannons!

bed rotter.

characters: gaming, freminet, thoma, aether, wanderer x gn!reader

author's note: hi long time no see(it's been a few days)🥰 sorry for the lack of posts lately lmfao i kinda had basically NO motivation for writing whatsoever but i'm back for this one now‼️(i was busy with obsessing over the natlan characters for half of the time yes) so like i hope you enjoy this rn lol ^^ (🍓anon you're not alone in that state😔 it happens)

✷ Gaming

-WILL take care of you if you won't

-didn't get out of bed to eat?

-breakfast in bed, dinner in bed, lunch in bed just for you.

-he will brush your hair for you. (if you have longer hair/hair that can be brushed lol and if not, ignore this lmao😭)

-don't feel motivated to get up? he'll do his best to motivate you to get you out of bed, but if it doesn't work, he'll try again tomorrow.

-he never loses hope like he's literally sure of himself that he will help you one day

-and it works because he's literally the sweetest bf ever for caring about you

-if you don't wash your teeth or something, he WILL offer to wash your teeth in bed somehow for you but sometimes that offer was literally what made you get up

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☆ Freminet

-again, will be absolutely the most caring and understanding bf of all time

-problems with brushing your teeth? okay, you don't have to do it immediately. if too much time passes he'll motivate you out of bed.

-not eating? he's gonna cook you the best food ever and bring it to you in bed.

-and he'll even bring some really tasty food from the house of the hearth if it ends up being really good for you.

-if your room is a mess, judging by the type of person he is, he'll clean it for you.

-but he won't kill himself for you, instead, he will try to motivate you throughout doing things that make you happy like drawing in front of you if you like drawing and stuff.

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✧ Thoma

-literally will do anything and everything to make sure you feel okay

-trying to motivate you through sending you some typa tiktoks like "dancing in the rain together<3" with the caption "we should do this💕" or stuff that is very wholesome WHILE not being in bed and rotting basically

-i mean it did help quite a few times

-about the food part, you know who thoma is. he will cook for you BUT sometimes he will force you to get out of bed just to eat with him in the kitchen

-that's a really big thing actually (to get you out of your bed at all) and he's proud of it.

-will try to motivate you to brush your teeth by walking in your room while he's brushing his(i have no idea why i js think he might)

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✿ Aether

-okay YES

-y'know how thoma got you out of bed by making you come to the kitchen to eat sometimes? yeah? well aether does it ALL the time.

-literally there isn't a time he will bring you food in your bed unless you've stopped bed rotting.

-brushing teeth? he will not let you come out of the bathroom when you go in to do literally anything(might force you to take a shower sometimes as well)

-if your room is messy, he'll just quietly scold you to himself while cleaning everyone for you, then afterwards confronting you about it

-another way to also get you out of your bed is him calling you to the living room to see some random video/tiktok instead of just sending it to you(it usually works)

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★ Wanderer

-does NOT tolerate this shit

-nuh uh not in the LEAST bit

-wanna eat instead of literally starve to death? come to the kitchen yourself(the best food is waiting you there)

-not showering and/or not brushing your teeth? he will scold you and insult you(lovingly) until you get up and do everything to be clean in the bathroom.

-messy room? standing next to your door with his arms crossed looking at you as if you were his 4th betrayal hoping that you care for him enough to do something for HIM if not for yourself.

-but like deep down, which he won't admit, if you don't do something he tells you to because you feel that bad and unmotivated, he might let it slide and tell you beautiful things while you're asleep on his chest.

-he loves you no matter how big of a bed rotter you are tho

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woah i love scara's part

anyways i liked it as a whole lol

i hope you guys like it too^^

| @mariaace <3