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incognit0slut · 1 year ago

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All I Need

Spencer realizes how much he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. What better time is there to propose if not in the middle of making love? Based on:

Warnings: 18+ mature content but nothing too explicit, this is just sweet love making

words: 2077

A/n: I’m supposed to finish my last kinktober and update my series, but both are very heavy and I needed something sweet to defrost my writer's block. I hope you don’t mind me squeezing something else until I finish my other WIPs🥲

“…every time I look into your eyes I see it, you’re all I need…”

SPENCER KNEW EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU. There wasn't a single thing he wasn't familiar with—from every mole, every scar, to every stretch mark. Any imperfection you considered of yourself he found to be perfect.

He was well aware of the small scar on your hip bone. Or the mole resting at the back of your thigh. Or the way you disliked caffeine, because every time you drank it, it increased your heart rate drastically. Which was why you always judged him every time he had a cup of coffee in his hand, especially with the amount of sugar he never seemed to stop adding.

"That is definitely not healthy," you would always say, to which he simply responded with a small peck on your lips. It was his way to shut you up without saying anything.

He also knew how soft you actually were underneath that hard exterior you always carried. You were an enigma the first time you joined the team, but Spencer always had a soft spot for mystery, and solving you became his mission even when he wasn't the best at maintaining conversations. He remembered making a fool of himself when he talked to you, stuttering about one of the random facts engraved in his brain.

But you still listened to him, and for once in his life, he finally found someone who didn't mind hearing him talk. It was nice to have somebody who found his knowledge interesting, and with that thought in mind, it didn't take long for him to take an interest in you.

Not that he wasn't interested at first, because honestly, you were a splendid sight when you first walked through the door. It was more so an interest that was considered surpassing a simple friendship. An interest that had him push his confidence into asking you out.

Spencer never pegged himself as someone who would be content having a significant other in his daily routine—his past relationships never seemed to work out, after all—but the more time he spent with you, the more he realized he was actually in pure bliss. It seemed as if you had cast a spell, drawing him deeper into your presence, a magnetic force of affection that went beyond the superficial. Every smile, every touch, seemed to emanate a radiant heat, and he couldn't help but be entranced by the sheer magnitude of your warmth.

Especially at this moment, staring into your eyes as they slowly fluttered open from a long night of slumber, he found himself leaning forward. You were so warm, so inviting. The soft light coming from the curtains cast a shadow over your curves and he couldn't help himself from trailing down your body.

You were fully awake now as he pressed his lips on every part of your skin. The slight movement of your arms wrapping around his neck had him grunting, and somehow he was suddenly positioned between your legs, pressing his hot length onto your wet folds, wanting nothing else but to push himself deep into your warmth.

As he watched you beneath him, eyes half closed, mouth open in anticipation, he couldn't help but mutter his next words because you looked breathtakingly beautiful. Heavenly gorgeous covered in a sheen of sweat, so damn pretty with eyes full of desire. You looked like a siren, an angel, and a lustful woman all rolled into one.

Everything about you was so divine, and the desire to consume every part of your existence became an insatiable hunger. It was a need, a yearning that made the idea of spending a lifetime without you seem unfathomable as if oxygen slowly drained from his world, leaving him breathless.

The words bubbled up from the depths of his heart, and before he could second-guess himself, he blurted out, "Marry me."

Your eyes snapped open as he finally sank his hips into you, and before you could even respond, before you could even register his words, his rough thrust stole the breath from your lungs. Rational thoughts shattered as he filled you completely, stretching you in a way that was slightly painful yet completely pleasurable.

He slowly pulled out, then pushed back in, your back arching, legs wrapping around his waist. "Spence," you moaned as he started a steady pace, trying to gain your focus but failing miserably. You couldn't think of anything else except the sensation between your legs. "Oh, God."

Languid and smooth, his hips continued to roll into you. "This feels good, doesn't it?"

The feel of his cock sinking in and out of you had your head falling back against the mattress. Your fingernails tightened upon his back, and he drove you gently into the bed with low grunts. His voice was rough, broken by focused breaths. "We could do this every morning."

A whine broke out of you.

"I'd wake up first," he told you. "I'd make you breakfast in bed..." He slipped out again before thrusting into you slowly, dragging his cock along your inner walls that had you mewling. "...right after I wake you with my tongue between your thighs."

You let out another moan. He drank in the sound with a smile before lowering his mouth to the base of your neck. Heated kisses trailed along your skin as his fingers trailed down the outline of your body before they stopped at the warmth between your legs.

Your mouth was wide open against his shoulder, eyes watering with the force of pleasure from having his cock smacking through your wetness, his body forcefully shoving your knees apart. You felt his fingers trailing your clit in slow circles and you arched your back, each tender brush tightened that coil of heat simmering in the pit of your stomach. The simulation drove you further into a haze of pleasure that a soft yes finally escaped your lips without you realizing it.

The barely whispered word didn't go unnoticed by him.

"Yes to this," he wondered as prompted his weight on his other hand. "Or to my proposal?"

You glanced up at him, your face a mixture of pleasure and alarm as you gave him a look. "You're crazy."

He watched you closely, mesmerized by the way your hips were bucking every time his cock hit that soft spot inside you while his fingers continued their tease. "Maybe." He leaned down and softly bit your shoulder. "But I am crazy in love with you."

When you didn't respond, he slowly pulled away and fixed his gaze on you. Your reaction, or lack thereof, spoke volumes, and as his eyes met yours, he found himself captivated by the reflective pools of emotion within. There was a hint of fear and concern, shadows that danced with the flicker of uncertainty. Yet, beneath those layers, he could see the distinct longing in your eyes. It was hard not to distinguish it as it matched the same look in his. Your stare was warm and domineering.

They were so full of love.

And that moment, Spencer realized, that was what you were to him—love. You were the greatest passion he had ever known.

You felt completely in the moment with him as you let your gaze scan over his features. His eyes appeared darker in this light of the room, but you could still see the soft lightness of them. Then, you leaned up, noses brushing gently against each other before you pressed your lips onto his. His body moved again in response, hips bucking into you and you felt him pulsing inside your core as his mouth worked harmoniously along yours.

"Marry." Thrust. "Me." Thrust.

You whimpered. Everything was too much. The intensity of the pleasure was almost intoxicating, a heady concoction that wrapped around you, rendering you momentarily breathless.

"Having you for the rest of my life is a privilege." He continued, grunting as you clenched around him. He lost himself with one final, jagged plea. "Marry me and make me the happiest man alive."

His words, touch, and the stroke of him inside you—it all blurred together. It pushed you so wildly that the coil in your stomach twisted sharply through along your body. He lunged down to kiss you again, tongue pushing deep as he stole your moan before it could break into the air. He tugged you into him at the same time that you submitted to his pull.

There were times when you would appreciate this. The contact, the intimacy, the warmth of your boyfriend connected with you. Right now though, you needed release. So you buried your hand in his curls, all messy and askew.

"Spencer," you breathed out against his lips. Each of his thrusts fed the growing flame in your body as your body turned pliant for him. “Oh god, yes,” you cried, head thrashing side to side as your eyes rolled back, overwhelmed by pleasure.

He peppered kisses over your neck, your jaw, your temple, desperate to be even closer to you, to melt into you. "Yes to what?"

Your senses were heightened, every touch and every breath seemed magnified in the intensity of the moment. Your body shuddered with every vicious thrust.

"Yes, yes, yes." A desperate, needy little whine slipped past your lips and you opened your eyes wide to give him a pleading look. "Spencer, please, please."

You were panting, your breath hot and your skin even hotter, and you could barely hear him when he spoke, "Yes to what, Angel?"

Angel. The syllables carried a warmth that resonated deep within your heart. Sometimes you were his Angel. Sometimes you were his Sweetheart. While you cherished the way he expressed his affection, a yearning for more had taken root.

Marry me.

You could be more than his angel. You could be his wife. But it wasn't just about the affectionate words anymore; it was about a promise, a shared future, and you realized as he hovered above you, all sweaty and desperate, that you wanted to feel this bliss every day. How could you not when he fits so perfectly inside you that you could swear he was made for you?

And then you felt it, his hand trailing down your arm before it stopped right along your fingers, intertwining them with his. Your hand clutched onto his as his thrust sped up a fraction—but it was still deep and lazy, enough to make you squirm. His cock was achingly hard inside you and when you clenched down on him, you adored the twitch and resounding moan it drew out of him.

You wanted this for your life. You wanted him every day. You wanted to wake up each morning in his arms, him whispering sweet nothings as he buried himself inside you.

You wanted him so much you would be a fool not to accept his proposal.

"Yes," you breathed out. "I'll marry you."

He grunted against your lips. "Say that again."

His thrusts were now fast and ruthless, his groans filling the room while the sound of skin slapping together echoed with it. Every time you could feel him deep inside you, it brought you closer to that familiar coil in your stomach. It was a heady sensation, an intoxicating blend of desire that quickened your pulse and set your senses ablaze.

"I—shit," you cried out, legs shaking at the pleasure traveling along your body you were starting to wail desperately for your release. "Fuck, baby, I'll marry you."

A sound of satisfaction erupted from him as he kissed you with every ounce of power he had. He kissed you as he had never kissed anyone before. He kissed you deeply, possessively even, and it was messy and rough and probably looked horrific from different angles, but it felt perfect.

You felt perfect. Your lips. Your curves. Your scent. It was as if you were made especially for him. He was fully consumed with you, consumed by you, and yet he couldn't get enough. Though you were beneath him, he was at your mercy, and the fact that you could still have such control over him made his stomach twist even more.

He was so in love with you. He was so sure of it, so sure of this abundance of passion, for Spencer Reid could sometimes be dense when it came to sudden bursts of emotions, but he was not stupid. He wasn't oblivious, nor was he lacking in perception. It wasn't about intelligence or lack thereof, it was simply about the purity of his emotion.

And he was deeply, unequivocally in love.

Oneshot taglist: @simpingforharryandcevans @strawbeerossi @lightvixxen @dim-i-try @annabellexox @baby-banana @natarataca @wolfbeanpotion @nagemasstuff @alexander-arcturus-black @rosieee491 @s00dastereo @no-honey-no @donttrustlove @tylevx @kailey-rae @sailorholly @ducksong @infinitegalaxiesworld @dreamsarebig @brilliantreid @boimlers-gonna-boim

PLEASE READ: The crossed out ones are blogs I can’t tag. And if any of you asked me to be added and you're not on the list OR you want to be added in the future, please comment on this post so I can see it. But make sure your blog can be searched by anyone or I can't tag you. Thank you :)

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the-original-skipps · 5 months ago

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|| When you carry them bridal style. || Wind Breaker Reactions ||

just a cute idea that popped up hehe i have so many wips i have to finish ahhh guys pls give me strength

CW: slight angst for suo and nirei

: Sakura Haruka. Suo Hayato. Nirei Akihito. Umemiya Hajime. Kaji Ren. Togame Jo.

❥ Sakura was confused when you suddenly crouched, but then that confusion quickly turned into surprise when you lifted with up. He could feel his heart leaping out of chest, no one has ever carried him before - much less like this! As much as he wants to cover his vibrant red face, he immediately wrapped his arms around your neck, afraid that you'd suddenly drop him. He struggles to find the words to express his feelings, only coming out as random stutters and yelling. You giggle at his reaction, he's just too adorable. You tell him that he's your little princess, which has him sputtering like a fish out of water. He demands you let him down but you refuse, only if he says please.

"P-Put me down! Dammit, do I really have to say it?!.....P-Please."

❥ Suo let's out a simple "wow" as you lift him up bridal style. He calmly wraps his arms around your neck, not the slightest bit worried that you'll drop him. Suo is very light, just like you expected him to be which brings a frown to your face. He's smiling and just about to tease you, until he sees the look on your face and questions you what's wrong. You tell him that he's very light, in which he replies laughing that it must be because his diet is working. Which makes you frown even deeper, you tell him you're worried and that he should eat more. Suo is slightly taken aback but he's back to smiling-placing a loving hand on your cheek, touched that you're worried about him.

"I'll eat, but only if you'll feed me～"

❥ Nirei squeaks, instantly clinging onto you as he looks at you with great surprise and embarrassment. He buries his face in your neck, as his cheeks flush red - his heart beating wildly in his chest. He can't deny the flutter he felt at being so affectionately held by you. Then he starts wondering if he can carry you like this too, what if he couldn't? The thought has him feeling self-conscious but tries to dismiss those thoughts away. He'll just have to get stronger, train more with Sakura and Suo. He snaps out of his thoughts when you call his name, looking at him with worry. Nirei responds with a bright grin, thanking you for carrying him and that he'll be sure to return the favor.

"Next time, let me carry you too!"

❥ Umemiya lets out a shout of surprise and excitement as he feels his body getting lifted up. No one ever heeded his request of wanting to be carried, especially Kotoha. He's quick to wrap his strong arms around your neck, nuzzling his face to your neck - complimenting you on how strong you are. His excitement is so adorable that a smile stretches on your face, he really reminds you of a golden retriever. Afterwards, he eagerly asks you if you could carry him around today in which you reply that you'll try. You're not sure how long you could go on carrying him, he is made up of pure muscle but you'll try just to see his bright smile on his face.

"Oh oh, let's go to the bakery next!. My treat!"

❥ Kaji is wary to say this least, he's always on guard on whether or not you'll pull some kind of prank on him. So you had to wait for just the right moment to suddenly pick him up. Of course, his first instinct is to yell and question your actions, all with a blush on his face. Luckily, Kaji wasn't eating his lollipop because he would have dropped it instantly. You could only laugh as he struggles with the new position he has in your arms. Even going as far into teasing him at how light he is which has him turning a darker shade of red. Eventually, he gives up the struggle and obediently lays still in your arms with a pout on his face. Luckily for him, Kusumi isn't here or else he'll gain some blackmail material.

"H-Hey! You better not d-drop me!"

❥ Togame whistles out, impressed that you were actually able to pick him up nonetheless carry him in your arms. All without breaking a sweat, wow - you might even be stronger than him. He calmly praises you for your strength, telling you how cool you are at being able to do this. He makes himself comfortable, leaning his head against your shoulder. Your arms holding him tightly, your scent enveloping him. He swears he could just fall asleep like this. You smile in response, happy at his reaction - it's almost as if you're carrying a giant teddy bear. Togame quietly lets you know that it's okay to let him down if you're tired but you quickly refuse. Togame lets out a chuckle and smiles, well he could get used to this.

"Mhmm, you're so strong..."

#wind breaker x reader #wind breaker #sakura haruka #suo hayato #umemiya hajime #kaji ren #nirei akihiko #togame jo #sakura haruka x reader #suo hayato x reader #kaji ren x reader #umemiya hajime x reader #nirei akihiko x reader #togame jo x reader #wind breaker scenarios #wind breaker imagines #skipps writes #wind breaker satoru nii

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months ago

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Roads Untraveled 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, pregnancy, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Single and pregnant, you discover a super soldier in the dumpster but he might not be hero you think he is.

[This is a rewrite of a series of the same name which I removed a couple years ago]

Characters: Silverfox!Steve Rogers

Note: I finally did this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

‘When he went away The blues walked in and met me Oh, yeah if he stays away Old rocking chair’s gonna get me All I do is pray...’

You sway to the melody as you wipe dry the last plate. You set it in the rack as Etta James’ soulful crooning wafts around the kitchen. Just the simple task of washing the dishes has you out of breath. You can no longer hum along as you’re suddenly light headed with sweat speckled across your brow. Even the breeze drifting in through the open window can’t cool the constant heat brewing within you.

You brace your lower back as you reach for the dish towel and pop open the cupboard. The music drones to silence as the next some in queue loads. Your rounded stomach presses to the counter as you take a mug and dry it inside and out. Strange, you don’t remember the song starting like that; the strange warbling noise much unlike Marvin Gaye’s rich tones.

You set the mug on the shelf and back up. Another noise peaks your attention, too tinny to be a snare. You rub your stomach mindlessly as you sling the cloth over your shoulder. You waddle across the tile to the folding table beneath the window. You tap pause on your phone and the bluetooth speaker goes silent.

Your fingers pick the damp fabric away from your bump. These days you can’t avoid getting soaked. Even as you can’t forget about the burden of your condition, you’re still oblivious to how it gets in the way until it does. You sigh as you listen for another clue.

A pained deep grunt floats up from below. Distant but decisive, another rustle beneath the unexpected noise. You lean over the table, a hand on the ledge as you push the pane higher. You bend, stomach pressed to the speaker, and peer down. You expect another dumpster diver searching for empties to trade in; rather you meet a most unexpected sight.

There is a man in the dumpster, alright, but he isn’t moving. From there, you can’t see very clearly. You squint at the figure strewn among the trash but the zigzag of the fire escape obscures your eye line.

You shouldn’t go and see. Not only is it a lot of effort, but it’s dangerous. You shouldn’t be wandering into alleys to check on strangers in dumpsters. You don’t know any good reason someone might be swimming in garbage. Nor do you think they would want to be bothered.

Still, the prickling in your neck urges you to do something. There’s just something so peculiar about the angle of the arm you can see clearer than the rest of the body. At least they’re moving, even if they sound agonized.

You take your phone and untether it from the bluetooth speaker. You unlock it and keep your thumb ready to dial out. You move as quickly as you can, not very, and waddles along the back of the couch into the entry way. You take your keys from the hook near your door and step into your cushy slides.

You turn back the latch and leave the door unlocked behind you. The slides shift on your swollen feet as you rush down to the elevator. God, your back hurts. You try not to lean too far back as it only adds to the pain. You need a belly belt but they’re so darn expensive.

You’re out of breath as you step on and turn to watch the numbers count down. You’re still panting as you reach the lobby and push through the front doors, leaning into the heavy grated iron until it creaks loudly. You clamour down the steps to even ground and your hips pang.

You put your hand under your stomach, trying to lift it and ease the pressure in your hips. You blow out between your lips as you have to slow down. You shuffle across the grass and into the paved lobby. The stink of the trash brings you back to those early days of morning sickness. And afternoon sickness. And night sickness.

You try not to inhale too deeply as you step between the brick buildings. You bring your phone up, ready to hit those three digits in a heartbeat. You should’ve done so already. Even if you do, it’ll take hours for anyone to come out here.

You stop and listen a few steps from the dumpster. You don’t hear anything now. You look up at the sky, dimming towards evening in a mixture of pink and blue, the moon peeking palely through the hue. You grip your phone tight, keys jangling with your movement as you continue forward.

“Hello?” You call out, “is someone in there?” You linger near the corner of the dumpster, the trash reeking in your nostrils, “do you need help?”

No answer. You stare up, wondering how you might see inside. If you weren’t built like a keg, you might be able to see from the lower level of the fire escape but you can’t even make it one rung. You blink and call out again.

“Hello? Are you okay?”

You wait for a response. Silence again. Maybe they found their way out on their own. You huff. So much for all that. All you’ve done is added to the pain in your arches. You turn on your heel and a groan gurgles and plastic crinkles noisily.

You stop again, wavering, and peer back over your shoulder. A hand appears over the tops of the dumpsters edge and grips it. You face the large metal bin as the knuckles strain within the stained brown leather, fingertips poking out nakedly, blood and dirty tinged across the flesh. A long grunt follows as the figure drags himself to look over the top.

“Sir, are you--” you begin, voice catching at the sight of the cowl and the man’s square jaw. The white star on his chest stuns you. It’s him. Everyone knows that uniform, that face, even under his helmet. New York’s own Captain America.

You gape as the super soldier strains and swings himself out of the dumpster with one arm. His other is hanging limply as his feet hit the pavement. His knees crack and buckle. He drops down onto them and hisses.

“Captain America?” You utter dumbly.

He puts his fist to the ground and leans on his arm. He hangs his head and heaves. He drags a leg forward, planting his foot, and makes himself stand. He pushes his shoulders back and winces, reaching to cradle his dangling arm.

“Steve,” he rasps, “goddamn.”

You don’t expect the obscenity. Not from him. He leans against the dumpster and turns his chin up. He gnashes his teeth as he grips his arm and jerks, moving the heavy bin with his effort. The pop of his shoulder is sickening as he growls tightly. He stomps his foot and as he shakes out the arm he just put back into place.

He reaches up and peels off his cowl as he puts his head straight. He looks at you as he wipes the streak of blood from lip to chin. His blond locks are streaked silver and his face is lined. He looks much older than the magazine covers and the TV screens. The magic of editing, right?

He swipes the sweaty hair from his forehead and huffs.

“Steve,” you rest your phone on your stomach, “are you okay?”

He pushes himself away from the dumpster and puffs, “I’m fine. Just... a hiccup.”

You stare at him. He looks tired and worn. You believe him when he says he’s okay. He's a super soldier and the world has seen his many feats. Yet he looks completely hollow.

“Are you sure? I could call someone or...” you step forward and point to the slash that borders chest and shoulder, “you should clean that out, shouldn’t you?”

He looks down and grimaces, “had worse. I got comms. HQ doesn’t care about a few scratches.”

He goes to step forward and stumbles slightly. He snarls and kicks his foot into the gravel. He wiggles his knee and bends to rub the joint.

“I...” your mouth opens and closes. This isn’t the man you’ve seen in the media. He's not smiling and golden and shining. Still, he’s the Captain. “I live above,” you gesture upward, “I could help... or maybe you can just... sit for a little bit. Get yourself straight?”

He looks at you. As if for the first time. His forehead smooths as the tension eases from his jaw. His gaze slowly crawls down to his stomach and you see the dimple in his cheek.

“Your husband okay with that? I’m a bit of a mess,” his tone is lighter as he fixes his grip on his cowl.

“Oh no, I don’t have--” you chew your lip and look at the brick wall, “it’s just me. But I have first aid kit and learned to stitch in summer camp. I think I can still remember how.”

He glances around and nods, “got a back door?”

“Yeah, it’s... past you,” you nod in his direction.

He pivots stiffly and cranes to see around the dumpster. You near him and your keys jingle again. You follow him to the metal door with the glass window and you shove the key in and twist. You pull it open a few inches. It’s heavier than the front door. He grabs it and wrenches it all the way back.

“Thanks,” you murmur. “There’s an elevator.”

“Hm, fewer people see me, the better,” he sniffs as the door clanks behind him.

“It might take me a while,” you warn, “I’m slow.”

“What floor. I’ll meet you,” he offers.

“Sure, it’s three.”

“Number?”

“310.”

“I’ll find it,” he states and marches towards the stair sign.

You go to catch the elevator, stewing in disbelief on your ascent. You step off and continue on to your apartment. He’s already there. He stands with his hand on the frame, looking over his shoulder as you waddle down the hall towards him.

“It’s unlocked,” you say.

He opens it and waits for you. You thank him as you enter and he follows. He locks it and lingers behind you. You put your hand to the wall as you slip off your slides. He gently lays his cowl on the corner table and bends to unlace his boots. You hang the keys on the hook and place your phone on the small table.

He leaves his dirtied boots on the mat and limps forward. You stand in the open doorway of the living room and peek back at him. He looks around reluctantly.

“Please, sit down,” you insist and wave through the doorway before you pass through.

“I...” he begins and you hear his uneven gait down the hallway. “I don’t want to dirty your couch.”

“I have a steam cleaner,” you assure. “Sit, I’ll get the kit.”

He stares, his eyes once more scanning the space. Does he think this is a trip? That you’re some covert agent who all too conveniently found him? That’s absurd. Look at you.

You shrug off that ridiculous idea and cross to the kitchen. You open several drawers before you remember it’s in the bathroom. Of course. Your brain likes to play games these days. You grab the metal tin from under the sink and return to Steve.

He pulls off his gloves and balls them on the side table next to the couch. You come around the other side of the couch and sit, leaving lots of space between you. You squeeze the kits as you’re once more out of breath.

“You okay?” He turns the question on you.

“I’m not the one bleeding. Just pregnant,” you smile.

You balance the kit on your stomach as you lean back. You sanitize a needle and weave it with surgical thread. You put that aside and fish out an alcoholic swap. You shift the kit aside and push on the back of the couch as you try to sit forward. You shake and he helps you, a humbling assistance.

“First,” you turn to him, “we’ll see how deep it is,” you tear open the swap, “can I...”

“One sec,” he dips his fingers into the fabric and tears the sleeve, renting the fabric like tissue. His arm is thick and well-toned despite the years. A centurion like him can’t complain for the shape he’s in, even battered. “I can do it myself.”

“Yes, but it wouldn’t be easy.”

You reach as he angles towards you. You gingerly dab around the gash and he tenses. He takes a sharp breath, “you don’t have to be so gentle. I can handle pain.”

“Right,” you work more diligently.

He’s quiet as you tend to him, picking out gravel and some metal slivers. You worry that you might miss some. You lean in closer and he steels himself at your proximity.

“So,” he clears his throat, “just you and...” the kid?”

“We all make mistakes,” you chuckle. You can only laugh about it, as scared as you are.

“Mmm,” he flinches as you sweep down the length of the cut. It’s not that deep, mostly superficial.

“Let me put some steri-strips on, shouldn’t need the stitches, ” you say as you sift through the kit with one hand, ��if you’re hungry, I have leftovers. You like chicken?”

You don’t know why you’re offering. Maybe it’s because you owe him. Like everyone in the city. It’s your chance to give back to the hero who gave so much. Or maybe it’s because you’re so damn lonely talking to your own stomach.

“I should go,” he insists as you place a strip across the cut.

“Up to you,” you say, “I don’t mind either way, but I’m not going to chase Captain America out of ym apartment.”

He doesn’t say anything. You finish dressing his wound and gather up the wrappers and all. You crumple it in one hand and rock yourself to stand. You’re overly aware of him watching you. You touch your stomach and rub it, soothing your nerves. You find him watching the movement of your hand.

“You must be pretty far along,” he says.

“Six months. Chicken tortellini, if you want. I was gonna reheat some. I haven’t eaten since work.”

“Work?” He frowns and stands, moving better than before. “Should you be?”

“I’m at a desk. It’s nothing. HR got me some ergonomic stuff. Nothing compared to what you do.”

You put away the kit and toss the garbage. You wash your hands before you search out the container of pasta in the fridges. You sense him behind you, just in the wide archway that peers into the kitchen. You reach into the cupboard you left open and take the single plate that isn’t in the rack.

“So, you want some?” You ask.

He’s silent with contemplation, the shift of his weight creaks in the floor, “I appreciate it, yes, please.”

“I might have something you can change into,” you say. You wonder why you’re doing all this. Maybe it’s that maternal instinct kicking in. “The father, before he took off, left a few things.” You peek over your shoulder, “he was a bit smaller than you.”

He shrugs then winces at the careless gesture. “Do you mind if I wash up before I eat? I smell like garbage. I don’t wanna overstep--”

“Go ahead, it’ll take a while to warm this up,” you say.

Another long lull. He taps his fingers on the wall and inhales deep enough for you to hear, “promise, I’ll get out of your hair after dinner.”

“Please, take your time,” you say as you put the tortellini in a glass pan to rebake. He backs away and you sense his hesitation, “oh, down the hall, to the left of the bedroom at the end.”

“Thanks,” he intones, “oh, uh, just realised, you know who I am...”

Your brows pop up and you stop before you can put the pan in the stove. You look back at him and give your name. He nods.

“Pretty,” he comments, “also, it’s just Steve, not Captain.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #roads untraveled #silverfox au #au #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers

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gildui · 14 days ago

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wip — ustulation; oneshot , knight/squire 18+ bros kinda mean!

"knock. knock."

you blink upwards, bleary-eyed, as two massive fingers tap at your bottom lip.

it distorts your vision to have a hand thrown in your face. what you'd been doing rendered to no importance, diminished to the petulant child you once were. instinct rears its ugly head and irritation licks at your insides. you had always bit first. asked later.

but a simple command wrapped in a familiar inflexion—guttural, deep, a dichotomy of smoke and scratch; cocksure buried beneath layers of sleep deprivation and a penchant for one too many smokes—has taught you to stand down.

he's apathetic towards you, at most. at least, he despises your very being. wishes he'd said no when they'd tossed you to him—a clot of blood in shark-infested waters—for tutelage.

treats you like a runt from the litter of hunting dogs he breeds. picking you apart to find the smallest, most antagonizing details—the most personal of barbs—then, flays you apart again and again until you are raw, bleeding out on your threadbare mattress. unable to allow yourself the luxury of thinking about a dreamless sleep whilst you polish clean armour and hone sharp knives.

still, you comply, malleable in his unforgiving hands. saccharine; sweet enough for a toothache, never lets you live it down—'might 'ave to pluck y'r teeth out, runt. givin' mine a cavity. eye for an eye n' oll that'—

his fingers push at the seam of your lips, slow but forceful; impatience at an all-time high if you're involved. your jaw protests, lockjaw,—'need ta learn how to relax', he says as the next swing of his sword against yours is jarring enough that your teeth rattle and your ears ring, while knowing he's the source of all of your stress—you're forced to blink back a whimper of pain when your knight's digits bully into your mouth.

they're unwashed. pungent acridity, brine burns on your tasebuds as he pets your tongue with rough fingerpads. he huffs in laughter, mean, when you inevitably choke on his taste.

"good, pet," he purrs. nothing like a compliment and all too antagonising, an austere reminder of the hellion he'd broken in, "open wide. let me see my next set o' pearly whites."

#simon riley x reader #ustulation

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geezmarty · 3 months ago

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Curtain Falling BTS! ✨

We're halfway through the month, which means you still have a couple weeks to grab my 2024 Shortbox Fair Comic, Curtain Falling!

I wanted to thank you for your support so far (many of you said the nicest things about it and I'm really glad you liked it!! It's the work I'm proudest of yet!) and what better way to do that than show you a BIT of the concepts and history behind it.

I will try to be as spoiler free as possible but I can't stress it enough: I think this comic is best experienced going in completely blind save for the brief description on the site.

But you can do whatever you like, so read on if you want.

I came up with the first concepts for Curtain Falling in 2021. At the time I was itching to try my hand at a short visual novel on Renpy (something that I'm still itching to do and that I may do?? Maybe soon??? My biggest maybe. Stay tuned on this page) and so I sat down and wrote a little something that didn't end up going anywhere.

(Some of the very first concepts I drew!)

The idea for the visual novel was simple, and actually very similar to the final comic: you'd get to play out a different fairy tale at a time, the eye and the mysterious woman would always be there, and the more you played the more you would find out about the truth. I always knew what the eye and the woman were, I think the only thing that changed along the way was the very ending and some details here and there (maybe I'll do a follow up about that after the fair is over).

(I drew this one while actively working on the comic but I feel like if I had stuck with the visual novel idea, this could be considered a concept for the "pick your fighter" screen)

After I shelved the idea, the concept just sort of sat untouched in my WIP folder for a long time. I would occasionally pick it up to roll it in my hands but I couldn't find an ending that felt satisfying to me.

Proto designs from 2021. The mysterious woman didn't change much but the protagonist is kind of unrecognizable to me lol

Of course, at some point last year after being accepted into the fair I was like well you know which story I'd like to tackle again. That's right. The perfect ending actually came to me halfway through production (I was set on just using what I had written down because a project that's finished is always better than a project that doesn't exist even if it's not as good) but the idea just struck me and I was actually pretty divided between it and keeping what I had gotten used to.

It was only after I was on call with a couple of friends that I decided - I presented both ideas and they GASPED and went "You HAVE to use the new one!!" that I was like well you're right actually. Let's go. This is all very cryptic if you're still here without having read the comic so what are you waiting for? You could find out what made my friends gasp if you go read it now.

There's more BTS to share but I don't want to give away too much so I'll leave you with a bit of fanart I drew in celebration of the fair starting. Thank you for reading!

#shortbox comics fair #curtain falling #o

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chamiryokuroi · 3 months ago

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Gonna take a moment to talk about one of the things I have noticed artist sometimes do not take into consideration when doing illustrations.

Values.

Because it is something I too had issues with at first but I am slowly getting better at and I feel like sharing this knowledge with you all.

Let’s take this WIP I am currently working on. This is the very first sketch, is messy, is nowhere the final product, but it is the final composition of the piece so I started thinking about the colors.

Very basic idea, Green/Red opposite colors on the color wheel make a very visually appealing color palette, and yet it doesn’t look right to me.

So I screen shot it, and edited it to mono colors, aka black and white, since it allows you to see values easily. FYI Value is nothing more than how light or dark a color appears.

And I can immediately see the issue. Tim and Bernard are in the foreground, yet their values are too similar to the background, so they get lost. And even tho Darla is the main focal point of the piece, I do not want Tim and Bern to just be lost, how do we fix it? Simple, we can either darken them or the background to ensure the difference between both is obvious.

So in this next pass I have darken them considerably, and it does looks better, but we can push it a bit further to ensure nothing get lost anywhere.

Ah rim light, my favorite tool to ensure something pops against the background. Now this? This looks great. Darla is still the center, being the lighter part of the composition, but Tim and Bernard are still visible and do not get lost in the background. Your eyes will first fall on Darla and then move into the other part of the illust, as I want it to do.

If we compare it side to side you can see how with just a few changes it looks way better, and it takes just a few minutes and some screen shots for you to achieve better values for your pieces.

This was a very short art advice from me to you, I am in no way a professional artist but hey any help is good right? 🫡

#art advice #kind of???#idk I just see this issue a lot with artist #and I feel is something so simple we just need to be reminded about it once in a while #gotham trio mob au

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yume-esmeray · 1 month ago

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A while ago, you answered a thing about timecharts for animation, I've watched a bunch of videos, but then the post made them more understandable when you put it in simple terms. A question I have is, do you have to draw them on each frame individually, and what's the best way to do that without ur timechart looking weird? Yours looked very smooth in that one wip of MK, and i was wondering how you got it to look like that because I've tried using them, but currently they are not working for me... they look wonkey, and i don't know completely what to do with them, despite having the knowledge kinda.

Timecharts can be drawn differently, you can do it by making a new drawing each frame, but for me I kinda keep it simple and clean like drawing out the base of the chart and the lines for motion, then I reuse or duplicate the base each frame and then draw the red dots over it. (This is the most quickest way for me when it comes to timecharts so that I don't need to painfully draw them each frame so I suggest u do the same) But like I said before, I'm not a pro at this entirely so I'm still using whatever knowledge I know about timecharts 😭

ex of how I do mine

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butmakeitgayblog · 1 month ago

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Hi yes hello help me I have a new fic idea for this picture

And it's giving me brainrot because I have too many wips and yet... I must write this ficlet. It's very soft. Friends to lovers.

Lexa owns a little holistic shop that always smells like incense and fresh herby plants. Fresh sprigs of flowers and dangley charms everywhere. Not quite "nature child/granola sister" vibes because it has too many sleek and modern details to it, but still very earthy and calming. Clean and fresh. It's tucked away in a sleepy little town along the coast that's just a short walk to a pier, so the fresh scent of the ocean's spray always mingles with all the perfumes of her shop.

Clarke moves there following the death of her father. Not running from anything, but more just trying to find herself in her new found peace. She's faced her own mortality and come out the other end understanding who she wants to be vs who she thought she should be. Exchanging her med school white coat for cable knit sweaters. Sneakers for deck shoes. Reading glasses for wayfarers.

Chaos for calm.

Which of course leads her right into Lexa's shop a few weeks into getting settled, deciding a new skin routine may be in order as well. Maybe a new lotion and a few handdipped candles to line her fancy new bath tub too, if the hand painted sign outside the shop is to be trusted.

Of course all chances at being the chill, solitary new girl in town who lives quietly and keeps to herself kind of fly right out the window when she hears the little ding of the bell overhead and looks up to see brilliant, soft green eyes already crinkled at the edges in a welcoming smile. Seeing all that sun kissed brown hair pulled back in a delicate crown of braids, the waterfall length of untamed curls falling over strong but slender shouders. Hearing that lyrical voice that's not at all chipper like she'd expect from someone peddling holistic wares. Instead it's soft and vibrant, more like too-warm honey that's been left out in the afternoon sun. Feminine but sure of itself as she merely bids a simple, "Hello, can I help you find anything in particular?"

All that chill is also nowhere to be seen when this freaking angel made of droplets of sunshine and chamomile takes it upon herself to squeeze a dollop of the lotion she'd been eyeing into Clarke's palm and start massaging it in with hands that are so fucking soft Clarke forgets how to breathe. Her intense eye contact as she gently explains the ingredients and why they're so good doesn't help either. Not that Clarke could be PAID to recite any of it, not having taken in a single damn syllable.

She could easily tell you the exact slope of the woman's eyelashes though. Could probably draw the freckle on her upper lip from memory too.

Of course Clarke would leave 2 bags and the shopowner's business card heavier, $70 lighter, and with absolutely no qualms about trading in at least part of her medical knowledge for giving this holistic stuff a try.

And that's it! That's all! Just a pretty girl who is maybe slightly nuts but beautiful and sweet who runs a little holistic beauty shop.

Nothing life altering or anything for Clarke, obviously.

Clarke being new and so in her head about everything and all the changes? It's just A Lot already on her plate. She doesn't have the space for anything else.

But... then there's just Lexa. So unassuming and mild and calming in her presence. Undemanding of Clarke's attention despite always seeming to have it. That slow fall into each other over too prolonged eye contact and friendly waves as Lexa glances at her through the arching windows of her shop, Clarke seeing those plump lips tug up into a grin that mouths an amused but unheard "Hi" as Clarke walks past for the third time that day.

Total coincidence.

But the friendship blooms just like the little plants and sprigs around Lexa's shop. Taking shape and growing as the season changes.

Passing glances and friendly waves turning to chance meetings and slipping away to sit on the bench at the end of the pier, splitting batches of seasoned fries and garlic aioli that Clarke has no idea where Lexa manages to put considering all her halter tops and sundresses that, whew, just leave not much to the imagination.

Walking through a local garden/woodsy path and talking aimlessly for hours as she watches Lexa collect little wildflowers and clovers along the way, stowing them in a satchel she keeps in her long flowy pants, only to drop by the shop the next afternoon and find that the tiny wood nymph-turned shopkeeper has braided her treasures from their outing into her hair that day.

Walks along the rocky beachside and lunches sat huddled together in the park. Lexa sharing how she got into her business and Clarke relaying her past in the medical world just to falter, only to breathe a sigh of relief at Lexa's lazy grin, "Don't worry, Dr. Griffin. I still believe in the power of penicillin."

Lexa showing Clarke where she makes her wares while standing far too close than what's necessary as she lets Clarke peruse everything. Always catching Clarke's gaze in her excitement at Lexa's creations, holding them with that soul-quieting smile of hers.

Clarke noticing how Lexa's scent changes slightly with the seasons because of course Lexa only works with fresh product. Noting how as the months get colder, she goes from airy, delicate lilac scents to heavier sage and sandlewood notes. Fresh pine, peppermint, and holly. Noticing how cute little painted toes trade in their freer sandles for more sensible uggs and the occasional snow boot, seeing how dresses and spaghetti straps get exchanged for cardigans and knitted sweaters big enough to juuust effortlessly slip off her shoulder...

(Still no bra)

(Not that she's... keeping track...)

Lexa is just so unexpected and so... not at all anything Clarke would've ever thought she'd be attracted to. Beyond just her stunning face that is, obviously. It's her personality. She's not someone Clarke can easily "put in a box". She's not quite a hippie, she's not exactly new agey, she's certainly not weak, but she's not overbearing. She's maybe a liiiittle bit nuts, but also so fuckin smart and not cocky about it at all. But absolutely is cocky about the silliest things, like being good at Scrabble and knowing how to fold a fitted sheet. (Again, liiiittle bit nuts.) She's kind, but not a pushover. Soft in ways Clarke can't even begin to fathom or calm her heart over, but so deceptively strong, both in body and spirit.

And she's quiet. Quiet and reserved in her perfectly Lexa way. Yet, when she does open up, there's so much there. So many layers to her, and every time Clarke thinks she's gotten to the bottom of the question mark that is "Lexa", there's a whole new labyrinth to uncover.

The connection between them expands and blooms and becomes something entirely its own. And it kind of just gradually dawns on her that Clarke has somehow managed to find her best friend in the entire world... and has promptly fallen in love with her.

Now.

If I wrote this obviously very short ficlet (😤), would anyone read it?

#clexa #clexa fanfic #flower child au

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musicwhitemagic · 2 months ago

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Delirious

Lip Gallagher x reader fluff

Warning: A very soft and cuddly Lip Gallagher

(Thank you to @theitgirlnetwork for checking my work before I posted it 😅)

Enjoy!

You immediately shot up from the Gallagher’s couch when you heard the door click open and sighed with relief. They were finally home.

After a lot of annoying jabs from his siblings (some pleading from you), and the convenient dental insurance that his new job came with, Lip had finally decided to get his wisdom teeth out, and thank god too. He would never admit it, but it was starting to hurt like a bitch. It was just going to be a simple routine surgery, you knew he would be fine, but that still didn’t stop you from fidgeting and worrying all day. you had wanted to tag along but had been immediately turned down by Ian and Mickey who were picking him up from the dentist’s office, (Mickey would never miss an opportunity to see his brother-in-law hopped up on drugs and making an ass out of himself) they knew you would get upset and work yourself up. No matter how little of a dosage he would be on

Lip hadn’t wanted you to see him like that, so reluctantly, you stayed home.

“Alright, come on.” You walked over to help Ian who currently had Lip’s arm slung over his shoulder, struggling to get him inside. Mickey was following behind, phone in his hand recording with a smirk on his face.

“Hey, thanks for the help asshole” He glared at his boyfriend as he pulled his limp brother along.

“No problem.” Mickey smiled as he made a beeline for the kitchen.

“Is he okay?” you asked Ian as you gently pushed some of Lip’s curls back. He instantly melted into your touch as his eyes glazed over. He then reached over to grab your wrist and squeezed it affectionately. Well… that’s new. You thought as you squeezed back. It’s not that Lip wasn’t much for physical touch, in fact, once you started dating, he realized he preferred it, always choosing gentle kisses and soft touches (among other things) as his way of saying “I love you”, but public affection? Usually just a simple pull of your belt loop, or grazing of one anothers fingers would be the most on display.

Ian sighed as he wiped his forehead, “Yeah, he’s alright, just kinda’ out of it, the doctor said it should wear off in a bit, he should probably take his pills though.’’ You go to follow in pursuit, when a hand pulls you back down.

“Lip? You okay?” He responds by taking a piece of your hair and analyzing it with precision.

“I’ve seen you b’fore”

You giggle as you reach up to stroke his swollen cheeks, you decide, why not? Might as well take advantage of the situation before his stubborn pride comes back. “Yeah?”

“Yeah… you been around” he analyzes you once more, “You’re hot”

You can’t help but grin at his comment, although dumb, has you blushing like a schoolgirl. “Thank you, you’re not so bad yourself”. Ian entered the room with a glass of water and pills in his hand.

“Ian!” Lip whispers with no attempt at being quiet, “ook at er! She’s so hot! Isn’t she so hot?”

“Mhm, come on, you need to take this”

“She is so pretty!” Lip turns to you and boops your nose, “you’re ‘ust a pretty, pretty little lady-”

You lean in to cup his cheek and whisper. “Hey.. do you want to know something crazy?”

Lip, now absentmindedly playing with your fingers, whispers back to match your volume, “Yeah?”

“I’m your girlfriend”

“No!”

“Uh huh”

“I ont believe you”

“Would you like me to prove it to you?” Before you wait for an answer, you gently grab his chin, as he had done for you thousands of times, and place a long, sweet kiss on his lips. When you look back, he looks as though he could melt right there, in your hands. Usually you were the one that got flustered and awe-struck by Lip and his flirting, it was fun to be on the receiving end”

“You guys done?” Ian asked sardonically as he still stood in front of you, pills in hand.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ Phillip, you’re such a pussy-wipped little bitch”

“Shut up Mickey”

Well, this would be a fun couple of hours.

#shameless #jeremy allen white #lip gallagher #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher fluff #lip gallagher x you #lip gallagher x y/n #shameless x reader #shameless x you #shameless fanfiction #masterlist

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v3nusxsky · 16 days ago

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Write the wandanat smut... for the sake of my mental sake I need your brilliantness (only write it if you want to)

Mommy’s toys 18+

*Authors note~ this one lives in my brain rent free. I’m so excited to give this idea from @wandaslittlebird and put my own spin on it. Also having a rough day so I had to reach into my wips to finish this off. *

Trigger warnings~ voyeur dom! Wanda dom! Nat x sub reader, voyeurism (new kink) edging, oral, strap on, sex toys, daddy Nat, mommy Wanda , degrading kink, praise if you squint?

Prompts~ see ask^^^^

Stumbling across voyeurism was never meant to affect Wanda this much. So much so it’s all she can think about. She knew her girlfriends would never be against trying something new in the bedroom but the possibility that Natasha or yourself might dislike this new found desire of hers still unsettled her. Wanda loved to play with you, that’s a given but something about having the power at her fingertips to control your pleasure just makes her feral. Focusing purely on watching every little movement as your pleasured by Nat under her commands. Even just thinking about it riles her up. That accidental discovery planting its strong roots of desire within Wanda refusing to let go.

Natahsa was the first one to notice the change in the witch. Subtle but to her trained senses she couldn’t miss it, you however remained oblivious. With you on a mission Natasha had the perfect chance to sit down with Wanda and discuss what was so evidently on her mind these days. Wanda couldn’t help but be relieved when Nat listened and even reminded her how much you love being guided through masturbation while they are out on missions. Neither you or Natasha would shame Wanda for wanting to explore and try something new. And it was from there that your loving wives hatched a plan to bring the desire to fruition.

Unknowingly you fell into their trap. Days stretching on where they let bratty comments slide, lulling you into a false sense of security. You continued to get bolder with each passing day, testing the carfully arranged boundaries in order to gain a slither of their attention. Both of your wives continued to ignore your bratty behaviour until Nat was called for a last minute intel mission. Wanda couldn’t help but give into her dominant side. Natasha would understand if she got you ready for the evening.

“Mommy” you whined again for fifth time in quarter of an hour. “Fine” you huffed at the silence that followed, “perhaps Carol would want me.” It was a low blow, you knew that. Wanda and Natasha are very protective of you, both having high levels of jealousy and dominance. “Brat” was all Wanda muttered in response before her magic reached out to restrain you. Red whips wrapping around your torso with a practiced ease. “Mommy! Let me go” you squealed in response with flailing limbs fighting against her tight magical hold.

“No.” A simple statement. One you weren’t expecting due to the previous comments being ignored. “Daddy” you whimpered pathetically continuing to squirm as her forest green eyes raked over your bound figure as she returned to your shared room. “Don’t daddy her dekta, you’ve been practically begging for this for days now, and now what do you say Nat, want to play with our brat?”

Magic provided the ease for Wanda to strip you bare with her mind and bind you to the bed. Fully on show for your lovers as the paid you no mind, wrapped in each others arms, lips entwining as you helplessly watched. “Welcome home Dekta” Wanda mumbled against Natasha’s lips, nimble fingers stripping her from her suit with a practiced ease. The way she would run her hands over the newly exposed skin was driving you wild. You want to touch! “Share mommy” you pouted before you even realised what you said. The pathetic whimper gained you a slither of attention as Wanda commanded Nat to shut you up.

Heaven. The way she plunged her skilled tongue into your aching core, the skill she had to trace intricate patterns on your throbbing clit always amazed you, her strong grip pinning your thighs open, allowing her to reacher deeper within you. Your slick covering her lower face as she ate you out like a starved animal. “Stop” Wanda demanded when your thoughts of cumming on her tongue got too loud. You weren’t to come till she said so. The annoyed whine you let loose when the red head removed herself from your aching cunt was magical. She should’ve recorded it.

“Here, use this on her, don’t let her come Dekta, I’ll reward my good girl if you can do this for me” Wanda murmured, handing Nat your favourite vibrating toy before bringing her in for another kiss, moaning as the taste of you seeped into the kiss before removing herself to sit on the chair on the other side of the room. “Put a show on for me baby. Show mommy how badly you want to come.”

Natasha is a skilled lover. There’s no doubt about it. The way she works you up so perfectly only to rip the pleasure away at the perfect time is maddening. Truly. The sounds clawing their way from your throat as you fought the magical bindings didn’t seem human. All while feeling the witches intense gaze on you. The way she was clearly taking in every little detail. If you had the upper hand you maybe would’ve commented she should take a picture. It would last longer. But right now the only thing you knew was the feeling of the vibration assaulting your puffy clit. “Please daddy! I wanna cum for you. Please daddy feel so good” you mewled feeling the beautiful pain of being on the edge once more. You just needed a bit more. A firm press of the toy would do. Only for the red head to remove everything instantly. “Fuck sake!” You practically screamed with frustration. This isn’t fair.

You couldn’t help but whine in frustration when you heard wands chuckling to herself and praising Natasha for a job well done .”Poor baby.” Wanda cooed teasingly, “Do you want daddy's cock, baby? Do you think you're ready for daddy to fuck you?" It didn’t occur to you, Natasha was being incredibly submissive to the witch, maybe you would’ve if your mind wasn’t clouded by the denial bestowed on you. “Hmm, I'll think I'll have daddy use the purple strap. The one with the- what did you call them- the 'mean ridges'? The ones that scrap against your special spot so perfectly?" Well you were fucked.

“And I think I want you on the bed just like this, on your hands and knees. I wanna watch those pretty little tears run down your face while daddy fucks you." Wanda freed your limbs before coming to position you where she wanted you, Nat seemingly following the instructions and began to strap up. The pure power play of Wanda being the only party clothed was certainly noted on your part. But the second you tried to pull at her shirt, she tutted at you like a disobedient puppy. “Leave it” was all she offered you before returning back to her seat, admiring your position as your chest heaved trying to calm down properly. She’d never seen you so riled up before from only one of them touching you.

“And don't even think about letting your arms give out. If can't see your pretty face, I'm gonna make daddy stop, understand?" She threatened as your arms began to shake with the weight of holding your body weight battling your desperation. “Wands, she’s leaking on the sheets” nat murmured eyes glued to your leaking pussy as she moved to find her place in Wanda’s scene fully strapped up. “Because she is a desperate whore for us Natty. Were you good for me? Hmm or do I need to check you set up right?” Being on show like this and being ignored wasn’t your favourite way to spend your time but if anything was clear, you were better to play along than fight back. “Did everything you asked Mommy” Nat teased back chuckling when you whined at the title.

“Go on Dekta, make her cry for me. Let mommy see her toys playing perfectly together.” Your new position allowed you to gaze into wands eyes as Nat pushed into your eager cunt. You couldn’t help but whimper, “daddy,” at the stretch she created. “Fuck so pretty, taking me so well Dekta” Natasha murmured appreciatively, eyes glued to watching you drag her deeper inside. “Please” you practically sobbed, desperate for more. Anything. Yet no matter how much you pleaded with her to move, Natasha waited for Wanda to demand it.

“Such a desperate slut, you haven’t worked out what’s going have you darling? Daddy won’t listen to you, she’s my toy who’s using my other toy for me. So be a good girl and take what we give you” Wanda muttered before nodding to her other lover. The way she slowly pulled out so just the tip of the faux cock was inside of your greedy little hole before slamming back into your warmth. “Oh Natty keep going our dumb little slut likes it rough” Wanda called chuckling as your mouth fell open into an “O” shape. The way her hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises as she drilled herself into you almost distracted you from watching Wanda’s hand sneak into the waist band of her trousers. Almost.

It didn’t take long for the pace to drive you insane, moaning like a common whore your arms gave out. “Out” she demanded and Natasha complied slipping from your messy cunt. “No no no! I’m sorry please no mommy” you sobbed struggling to push yourself back into position. Tears streaming down your cheeks at the continued denial. “Cry for me Dekta. So pretty when you cry for mommy. I did warn you. Cause a dumb little bitch can’t listen when she needs to be fucked dumb.”

This time there was no warning as she plunged into your core again, instantly falling back into her ruthless pace. You trained your gaze on Wanda, determined to follow her desire and enjoy the show. Your tears started to mingle with the slight drool leaving your mouth as you were pushed to the edge for whatever number it was tonight. “Please oh god mommy please make daddy make me cum. Wanna cum for mommy please” you sobbed, desperately wishing to get what you need. The orgasm you were given was nothing short of magical, your inner walls milking the dildo for all it was worth, Natasha grunting as she fell with you, continuing to dig herself deeper into you. Wanda was next, the sight and sound of her lovers enjoying themselves caused her to fall too, hips bucking against her own fingers. “Natty stop” Wanda murmured, taking in your absolutely spent body. The way you collapsed after riding the pleasurable waves was rather comical. “Want more” Nat grunted practically sulking as she slipped from your core, cock thickly coated in your slick. “Later, look at her Nat. She’s throughly fucked. Let her rest my love.”

Wanda gentled rolled you onto your back, stroking your sweat covered hair from your face, “can mommy clean our sweet girl up?” You knew you should reply, but all you could do is whine In response. So deep into bliss you forgot how to form words. Together your lovers worked on cleaning you up and settling in to bed, your head on Wand’s chest as Nat was the big spoon. “Good girl for us Yano that? Our best girl” was the last thing you remember hearing before sleep claimed you.

Word count~ 1884

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