#so what i had built has been burnt

[lesenbyan]

you know, I might be Stepping In It, but I really hate people's tendency to "you're lucky" when finding out someone's naturally skinny really piss me off.

I'm not saying there's not privilege to being skinny, there absolutely is in this fatphobic world. But as someone who has spent literally over half my life wishing I could gain any fucking weight ever it makes me so fucking mad. I've tried working out, I've had physically demanding jobs, I've tried, back when i could afford it, eating as much as I could handle. I have literal dysphoria about being skinny.

and then when I Go Off at a coworker for being the second person in a week to tell me I'm lucky- while wearing braces digging into my joints bc I am physically too small to wear them right but they don't get smaller- I'm told "oh but you have to realize we never considered the other side" sure! but I'm still allowed to get pissed! you would be too!

[azullumi]

trying different types of kissing with scaramouche?💔 like forehead, neck kisses, hand or anything at all....

“say yes to heaven” ; wanderer/scaramouche

summary — ultimately, he really does just want to be loved, behind the many layers of him to hide all that yearning and longing. but how can he say it when love, for him, was a synonym to forgiveness; alternatively, different kisses with him, with each one signifying a progressing relationship.

pairing — scaramouche/wanderer (w/ gender-neutral reader) ; could imagine this with either but i wrote this with wanderer in mind

tags — established relationship, fluff, a little bit of angst, not proofread, 1.1k ; ficlet

note — i needed an excuse to write a fic that is just all about kissing him and also comforting him (but still, i hope u like this nonnieee!!)

i. hand

You hold his hand and press small kisses on his knuckles, a little bit ticklish it was for him but he doesn’t retract. The feeling of it makes something in his chest ache with an unfamiliar sensation, and he knows it’s not his heart because he never had any.

You kiss the back of his hand, an intimate gesture, like devotion, like he was something—or someone—that should be adored.

“I am no god.” He was no deity to be worshiped so why are you so gentle to him? He wasn’t made of glass nor is he fragile; he was born from ashes of a burned home, he was carved out of war and winter storms and everything that you could ever pray against, he was a symphony composed of nothing but bad luck and conflicting melodies—he was not the kind people would choose to be around, much less adore.

And as if you bear a part of him in your mind, you understood what he was trying to say, could hear the questions that tormented him, could see the conflicted look on him as he looks at you with a gaze that seems to scrutinize your being when only he is looking for an answer. He tries to look for a crack, a gap in your expression, so that he can look through it and see what you’re really thinking.

“You don’t have to be one to be loved.” You press one last kiss on his hand just as you finished speaking, looking up to him. Indigo blue orbs met yours in a gentle gaze, eyes filled with affection only for the other to drown in. If he could put all that he was feeling, all that he was asking and seeking an answer to, into a simple word, it all condenses to: why?

“Do you still have doubts?” You ask, despite knowing the answer. He opens his mouth only to close it again, looking for the words that he should say but chose to be silent instead. And you smile—not a beaming grin nor a subtle paint on your features, but something gentle and comforting as if you’re assuring him: it’s okay, I understand you. I know you.

“You’re not unloveable.”

Loving him wasn’t the hardest thing to do, it came to you naturally as if breathing but the man thinks otherwise. A burnt child who loves the fire will only hear the fact that he is loveable, people just choose not to.

“How do you know that?” You know him well enough to hear the way his voice trembles at the effort to allow himself to be vulnerable. Long was the fall of the tall and formidable walls that he built around him.

“You’re not unloveable.” You repeat, taking hold of his fingers to kiss his hand once more. “Am I not enough proof of that?”

ii. forehead and cheeks

You cupped his cheeks and kissed his forehead, an unspoken language of tenderness in which he took a long time to understand. When love and affection has finally been given to him after decades of yearning, he’s unsure of how to hold it in his hands—does he gently hold it with both? Every bit overwhelms him to the bone, the gratifying yet intense feeling seeps through his being and settles inside of him in a way that it slowly consumes the crevices of his mind, until all that is left of him is nothing but a starved man who only longs for the feeling of your skin against his own.

There was a flicker of warmth in his expression and he closed his eyes as he relished in your kindness, your hands cradling his cheeks with warmth that coaxed his entire existence, your lips pressing against his forehead softly. Then, you started to pepper his face with small kisses and the man could only surrender to your touch, a dance of vulnerability and intimacy as he crumbled into your hold.

No one has ever come this close to him (a closeness that was a stranger to the pages of his past, a tender note composed solely for him), no one and nothing.

You spoke, murmuring against his skin and close to his lips: “Sunshine.” Humor weaves through your tone, teasing the absurdity of the mismatched title and the man who wears it with subtle grace.

“Don’t call me that.” He snarks yet no bite. It’s ironically funny how you use that nickname on him despite him being the complete contrast of it; he stands as the living paradox of the word itself.

The sound of laughter bubbles up in your throat and you answer, “Why not? It suits you perfectly, don’t you think?”

What else should you call the man who grasps the warmth and tender light in his chest only the sun could give? To be with him was to sit in the autumn sunlight, to sleep in the comfort of your sheets when the rain patters against your window, to walk barefoot on the sand even if it feels like shards of glasses against your sole, to be with him was to simply exist; you’ve never met anyone who had the sun for a soul and he has never met anyone who had the stars in their eyes, and while you had the universe etched on the palm of your hands, he has your name engraved on his.

iii. lips

Your lips ghost against his own, albeit in a tantalizing manner, teasing and quite slow—but he wasn’t a patient man.

“Are you going to kiss me or what?” He whispers and you don't waver at his straightforwardness, having been used to this note. There was no hostility in his tone, just pure and raw desperation and desire to feel you.

You could imagine the eye roll he would give you had he not had his eyes closed at the moment, could imagine the frown on his expression while he spoke and could imagine it faltering soon when you finally kissed him, slow as if to savor the softness of his lips and how it reminds you of spring; he could not properly express the warmth on his chest at the thought of how you love him when he still tasted of heartache and war.

You part from him but remained close, foreheads pressed against one another, breathing heavily, and looking into each other’s eyes. You wanted to tell him that you will find him in every lifetime, but the silence between you two was enough to convey such strong affections that you could hear him respond: And I will love you in each one.

(And he somehow finds himself thinking at the same, this is what he deserves. He’d do these, these vulnerable moments where he lays himself bare for you to touch and hold even if you’ll see the scars and cracks on his skin, the falling and getting hurt despite the fear, the burning and constant searching for something, he’ll do it all over again—if it’s you.)

If someone were to ask him what forgiveness tastes like, he would utter your name—everything that he has ever longed for came in the form of you. And he fears that this longing will last forever even while you’re here, that this longing will grow even when he crumbles to dust, that this longing will outlive this body and weave life into the earth that swallows your existence.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[caraphernellie]

ephemeral.

for your information: author!abby x editor!fem!reader. professionals with a very strained relationship. abby and reader drinking a little but completely coherent + sober still. haters-to-lovers, semi-public, outdoor sex. bratty!reader. fingering (r!receiving). steamy make out session. clichés ahead. pet names used: baby, good girl, various insults tbh. 2.8K WC.

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑, had this idea for like, a whole year now. oops. just love autumnal/dark academia type shit and abby is my favourite bookworm. abby picture by @/tpicsl on pinterest. MASTERLIST.

Creativity is fickle. Abby knows it better than anyone.

Her mind is her greatest asset. It is a hidden strength; everybody thinks they have her figured out just by glancing at her. The woman is built of brawn and steadily-sculpted muscle, but it is merely a peek into her real power.

Abby's appearance is a reflection of dedication, an application of self-discipline trained over many moons.

Her brain is her might. Her will to excel. It is a library of all the things she has loved, words she has read, stories she has heard.

And the result is an author of applaudable talent. Yet, her reputation precedes her—she is not easy to work with.

Abby has published four books so far in her career, but she's been through twice the amount of editors in that time. Nothing could ever stunt her rise to fame, no matter how many claims were made against the woman's cocky, self-gratified nature. Abby Anderson is a household name.

But as her most long-standing editor, you must agree with the rumours. Working for Abby is a living nightmare.

Creativity is fickle. Abby refuses to let anybody impede on her artistry. If they do not see her vision, she will throw a fit. Writing is her gift, and god forbid someone attempts to critique it. She rejects all common writing advice—should anyone attempt to tell her to 'kill her darlings', Abby will send back a heated, passive aggressive email.

You let her have her freedom. That is the difference between you and other editors. Perhaps they don't see the vision like you do, and absolutely not like Abby does. You will remove what is only necessary, and maybe there are small disagreements every so often, but you have proven yourself to have the wit that matches Abby's perplexity.

You do not leech on her—sucking the life and rareness out of her words, only to brag and drag her name through the mud. Even Abby will admit that you are the most pleasant editor to work with.

But god, she almost burnt you out.

Impossible deadlines, communicating at only the most iniquitous hours. Whether it was a high-priority email at midnight or two-thousand words to be read and fixed by the end of the day, she was a prick. On purpose.

And why? Well, even though your furious emails would raise her hackles, she began to realise she actually enjoyed reading them. You've got quite the attitude. It certainly tickles her dry sense of humour, after all. Everything you say is professional, so as to not raise alarm, but it's laced with just enough venom to sting.

Her personal favourite email, which she immediately starred, is the one in which you were complaining about her constantly quoting you in her own book.

'Miss Anderson, I do not find you as funny as you think you are. I would like to be taken seriously when I voice my concerns about your ill-treatment of my service, as flattering as it may be that I have inspired your work. 'Please see attached the edited draft as requested.  'P.S. I do believe you ought to get some sleep. Sending a draft at 03:30 is not acceptable.'

It's just not fiery enough to halt her efforts.

Somehow, you made it out alive. Pulled yourself out of quicksand with that heavy load on your back. You have lived long enough to be present tonight.

Today marks the highly anticipated release of Abby Anderson's fifth release, her newest standalone title following her critically acclaimed series. Many reviews seem to say she just keeps getting better, while others written in unkempt fury detest her for writing in a way that feels almost pretentious nowadays.

Abby's clearly had a day full of bustling conversation, hundreds of well wishes. She signed so many copies of her book that her wrist aches of overuse. She made it through, thank goodness, and the hour of relaxation has finally arrived.

The release party.

Who doesn't love a party? A warm celebration filled with prideful chit-chat, her family and friends, and competitors masking their envy with tight-lipped smiles and side-eyes.

All that and a splash of champagne to take the edge off.

Your heels crunch flaxen leaves in your path to the door, streams of fading sunlight painting the yacht club in warm golds and gingers. It's a remotely calm evening save for the seaside breeze. The trees whistle and you can hear the faint sound of pastoral waves clashing with the cliffside.

Your inner-voice begs for a few moments more stood outside the party. You could give yourself some grace, a fleeting moment to prepare for the questioning and disrespect you'll receive.

You think back to a charity event Abby hosted once. You met a man who spoke with blatant indiscretion about Abby's writing, and admittedly your ego was bruised as much as Abby's would have been. He had watched you argue your point, and when you finished, the man parted his lips to ask, 'who are you?'

Her fucking editor, that's who. Only one who'll put up with her.

It would help if Abby would stop acting like she doesn't know you.

You don't expect flowers, nor praise. She wrote those books by herself. But a tree cannot grow without proper care. If her words were sowing the seeds, you were watering them.

If only Abby could take the stick from her ass and so kindly acknowledge the sweat and tears you put into dealing with her.

Light disappears into the horizon and the moon has risen. These cocktail parties were never your style. It isn't a wild bender, nor is it a classy and quiet event. It's just somewhere between that.

Networking.

It's tedious, dreadful. If you don't catch their attention within the first seconds of the conversation, you won't make that connection. First impressions are everything, and unfortunately, you struggle to be as charming as the others in this room.

"Well, well, well. Look who showed up."

Her eyes have wandered to you for the past two hours, not as discreet as she thought she was being. It seems Abby has finally found the time to pull away from big-wig publishers and authors to finally seek you out.

"I almost thought you were gonna pull the same shit as last time 'n hide all night."

"You wish." Your voice is dry and quick, always straight to the point. "Makes no difference if I stay in the shadows or hang around the others. You'll ignore me anyway."

"No," Abby murmurs, a scrunched up scowl on her face now. It's far from hateful, and directed more towards herself than you. "I'm talking to you now, aren't I?"

"Mhm."

"You know what I just.. love?" Abby asks, head tilted towards you. You are a thief to Abby's attention no matter where or when, but regret to realise that. "You are just as hard to deal with in person as you are over email. It's really authentic."

"Ah." You give a curt nod, taking a short sip of wine, and notice the way her eyes track the movement. They linger over your lips, struggling to tear away. "I am glad you think so. I like to keep it real."

She scoffs, short and breathy. "Yeah. It's real lovely."

Abby enjoys the way you match her energy. She enjoys it too much.

"So, did you come here to say anything worthwhile, or are you just polite enough to greet all your guests?"

Her face doesn't change—her smile remains intact, but it's the twitch of her eye that forces a soft chuckle past your lips.

"Yeah, actually. You know, I was getting there." Abby's indignant reply is masked with a pleasant tone, one that irks you. She doesn't know how to act any way but sarcastically with you. She could say the smallest thing, but it gets on your nerves. You're not the most proud of how reactive you are to Abby's behaviour. "You know, some sappy shit about how helpful you are. But I might keep it to myself now."

"Makes no difference to me," you say with a shrug of your shoulders. Actually, it would be nice to hear what she has to say. "You couldn't be genuine with me if you tried."

"You know what? Let's go." Abby takes and sets your glass down on a nearby table for you, hand wrapping firm around your wrist. "I have some things to say to you that I'd rather others don't hear."

"Can't wait," you mutter, anticipating what, from past experience, can only be referred to as a sour exchange of words.

Abby drops your hand to get the door with the most cocky grin you've seen on her face in a long time. "Ladies first."

The French doors lead to a round balcony that overlooks the water. As you step outside you feel a wave of relaxation overcome you. The ocean is calm, the breeze from earlier has filtered away into a still, but cold, night. The only sounds you can hear are muffled chatter and music from inside.

"Alright." You clasp your hands together and bat your lashes. "What was it you had to say? Don't forget to raise your voice this time."

"Y'know, I actually wasn't planning on yelling at you," Abby says in a gritty voice, stepping closer. "But if you keep trying to get smart with me, I may reconsider."

"Oh, of course. I hope you do. It's a pleasant sound."

"I— Stop talking."

Without you having realised, she's backed you into a corner. Your hands grasp the stone fence of the balcony tightly, looking away until she tugs your jaw closer.

"I wanted to actually say something nice. You know, a sorry for being a cunt. A thank you for putting up with me. I wouldn't have half the success I have if it weren't for you."

"Oh."

It's simply unexpected. It isn't an out-of-this-world idea for Abby to be sincere, of course not. But her confidence is often mistaken for pure arrogance. You just didn't think she could tone down her ego enough for something like this. Not at a release party, at least—this whole shebang is meant to be celebrating her.

"I didn't know how to show you I actually appreciate your work," Abby continues, "I thought about flowers... a letter... you know, for an author, it was ridiculously hard to put some words down. And I wanted to avoid cliché. So I wanted to personally talk to you about it."

"You know, this is actually leaning further into cliché territory than a letter?" You muse, only with the intention of making this slightly less awkward.

Considering Abby is usually the one to let her eyes wander, right now, you are the one who can't pull their eyes away. Her shirt fits her far too perfectly for your liking. Her eyes, electric blue and staring sharply enough to cut you—they're perfect. And you hate it.

"Oh yeah?" Abby huffs, her palm flat on the fence behind you. She's caged you in. "Why's that?"

"Because you look like you're about to kiss me."

She falters for a moment, sheer surprise on her face. Oh, come on. She can't be that clueless to her own desires, can she?

"You wish."

"Well if you don't kiss me, I'm going to kiss you."

"What? Because I said one kind thing to you? Are you really that easy?" Abby lets out a quiet laugh in disbelief, perhaps a bit of shock too—you've thrown her off balance.

"You are the one who's not-so-subtly stared at my lips all night," you point out. "So I think you need to find your own answer to your question."

Jesus, you make Abby actually think sometimes. Interacting with you is different—her wit is matched for once, you indulge in the same dry sarcasm, you're actually fucking intelligent.

But what irritates her is the way you have such a great read on her.

"What I need is for you to shut up and let me be nice to you for once."

"God, you write your own clichés so much you'd think you would have seen this coming." You meet her eyes with that of a mischievous look in your own, lips curled into a satisfied grin. "Make me."

Oh, for fuck's sake.

Screw it.

Her lips are on yours. Her hands settle over your hips. It's warm—incendiary, even. The autumn chill takes a backseat as she kisses you once, twice, and once more.

She stays close enough for your breaths to mingle, lips a hair's breadth away from each other now.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" You murmur. Abby scoffs softly.

"I hate you."

"I don't think that's right."

"No?"

"You're welcome to walk away right now, if you hate me so much."

There is not a chance that's going to happen. Even below the faint blue moonlight, you can see how rosy her cheeks have turned. Not a chance. She's staying right here.

"I thought a kiss was supposed to make you shut up," Abby grumbles.

"Oh, ha, sorry." You aren't sorry in the slightest. That coy smile is going to be the death of her. Who knew little old you would have the upper hand right now? "You can try again, if you'd like."

"Right."

It's as desperate and fiery as before, yet not as ephemeral. She's captured your words with her lips, her hands unceasingly moving along your figure. She touches and grabs everywhere that she can reach. You cup the back of her head and pull her closer as you sit on the balcony fence.

That stresses her out the slightest bit. It's a precarious position, on a high place, no less. But she simply takes it as an opportunity to splay her palm over your ass, 'keeping you from falling off.'

"Here's the deal." Abby attempts to command you, but wandering lips are staining her throat in lipstick and, plain and simply, she whimpers her words. "You're gonna watch that door and tell me if someone's comin'."

"Mhm."

Your mouth seeks her freckled collarbone, so tauntingly visible beneath her shirt. She always leaves the first few buttons undone. You've controlled yourself so well all this time, you deserve to taste the salt of her skin there.

And Abby's fumbling with the button of your pants. They fit you so well. They hug your body just right, flaring at the ankles. They hug her attention, too.

"Coast is clear?" Abby whispers. Her hand is painfully close to where she wants to be, buried into your cunt, but she just can't without the confirmation that you won't be caught in your little escapade.

You peek over Abby's shoulder. The party is still bustling inside, not a soul seeming concerned with the balcony.

"It's clear."

"Thank god."

Abby's hand slides beneath your panties finally. She's amused with the way you spread your thighs wider to accommodate her, your legs wrapping around her waist now.

"That's a good girl," she mumbles, fingers gathering some of your wetness. She nearly shudders at how fucking hot all of this is. You, your stuttered breath, and the thrill of fucking you somewhere so public. "Shh-shh."

Two fingers push past your folds and your hands grip her broadened shoulders. It's a stretch, those thick fingers stuffed pretty inside you, but the feeling is more than welcome.

"Fuck, Abs."

"I know, just be quiet."

Her fingers begin to move, slow at first as she tests the waters, and gradually it reaches a faster pace. Your sounds are even better than she could have anticipated they'd be. Gentle, short moans. So, so cute, and all for her ears' pleasure only.

"Open those eyes, baby. You need to keep watch."

You do your best. You force your eyes open and stare at the blurry door behind Abby.

Her digits reach in deep, they stretch you wide, and her thumb laves over your clit simultaneously. She feels the tension build in your body. Your fingers bruise her shoulders, your legs tremble, and you muffle your rising volume by hiding in the crook of her neck.

"C'mon, baby," Abby encourages, her free hand groping and squeezing your butt. "Gonna cum for me?"

She has finally conquered your attitude. Left you unable to do anything but moan, and fuck, your legs feel like jelly now. She revels in your jittering, in the clenching of your hole around her fingers.

"Good girl." The praise, sweetened further by that smooth voice, leaves you reeling. And like the prick she is, she just has to use your own words back at you. "Wasn't that hard to shut up, was it? You did so good for me."

You hum tiredly in response, weak fingers fastening your trousers again. "I hate you."

"Hate me enough to come home with me?"

Ha.

"Of course."

[monimccoythings]

Feral!Logan drabbles

Oooh finally did it. Couldn't resist to write some silly Feral!Logan drabbles. Wanted to use a pic of Hugh in the first movie but this one was too perfect for what I had in mind. I love this little feral hairy man.

Reader is female.

So Reader is a mutant with light based habilities. She can absorb electricity from devices and machines and turn them into blasts of light (kinda like Starlight from the Boys)

Reader's on the run from the American government, they want to harvest her powers and use them as a way of 'defending' themselves from mutantkind. For the last year she has been running. Right now she has crossed the border and is currently in the middle of a blizzard in the Canadian Rockies.

She's tired, hungry, cold and there's no electrical current in miles, so her powers are basically rendered useless. And they keep chasing. She doesn't know how much longer she's going to last.

Reader can barely see and trips on a branch, knocking herself out.

Feral!Logan has been living in the mountains since he escaped from Weapon X, probably in the 80s. Has no memories, no social knowledge, just survival instincts.

Feral!Logan hates when strangers enter his territory and refuse to leave. Those are his hunting grounds, not theirs. He swiftly disposes of the agents and approaches the unconscious Reader.

He feels a weird tingling on his chest when he sees the pretty human female laying on the snow. His fingers slowly caress her soft features. He decides that moment he must have her.

Believing her to be a mate for him, Feral!Logan carries her back to the cave where he lives, placing her carefully on the pile of furs he has collected from his hunts.

When Reader awakes, she finds herself laying in a makeshift bed of animal fur in some random cave instead of a government jail cell. She immediately panics, not knowing where she is.

She tries to leave, but is stopped by a wild looking man covered in dirt. Taller than her and built like a fridge. He's half naked, his only clothing are two dog tags hanging from his neck and some undergarments that leave little to the imagination.

Under all that dirt there was hairy body rippling with muscles more fitting of a bodybuilder than a man who lived by himself in the mountains. Jeez, you could grate cheese on those abs. Reader can't help staring.

Feral!Logan roughly pushes her back against the furs. One single hand is enough to keep her still, which speaks volumes of the kind of strength he possesses.

The rugged man starts sniffing her everywhere, her neck, her collarbone, he kepts getting lower, grunting approvingly. When he's about to reach that part of her anatomy. She grabs his dishelved hair, trying in vain to keep him away. He looks at her, annoyed at having been denied of his prize; but, surprinsingly, obeys.

From then on, Reader's entire life becomes that cave and her mysterious savior/keeper. He provides her with shelter, warmth, water from a nearby stream and food from his hunts. Feral!Logan wants to prove himself as a worthy partner for her, catering to her needs.

Reader didn't spend most of her childhood summers in camps to eat now raw meat, no matter how little Feral!Logan seems to care about it. So she teaches him how to light a fire the old fashioned way, lamenting she can't use her powers so it'd be easier.

And he freaks out.

After a while he gets used to it, he nearly gives you a heart attack when he touched it and his burnt hand healed almost instantly. He rumbled pleasingly when you held his large hands between yours, marvelled at his healing factor.

At night, they sleep together, in the makeshift bed of animal skins. His arm engulfs her waist, pressing her smaller body towards his powerful chest. It's nearly impossible for her to move away.

Like hell he's going to let her go.

[alcoholfreenayeon]

The Ryujin headcanon’s were so spot on, could I request a Yeji version please?💕

Yeji Girlfriend HCs

SFW HCs

The silliest and sweetest person ever. She’ll be so loving and caring towards you. Always ready to do anything for you.

She shows her vulnerable side to you, expressing her concerns, issues and feelings to you frequently yet at the same time tries to brush it off because she sometimes feels like a bother.

When she’s tired she clings on to you like a koala. Resting her head on your shoulders or chest.

She likes to send you lots of selfies when she’s away. She gets worried about you easily, constantly asking if you have eaten well and slept well. She always secretly steals a shirt if your when she’s away so she can keep your scent.

She doesn’t have a favorite spot to kiss you, instead she prefers that you kiss her instead. She’ll get close and either stare at you or keep shuffling restlessly until you give her a kiss to calm her down.

She puts herself under more pressure and stress than necessary because she feels like the oldest member and leader she has to be the example, set the standard and not show weakness.

She sometimes tries to cook for you but her clumsiness makes it more challenging than Yeji would like. Once you were napping and woke up to smoke and panicked thinking it was a fire only to find out Yeji accidentally burnt the cookies she was trying to make.

Her smile always makes you feel weak, she’s just that pretty.

Yeji introduced you to the rest of Itzy quite easily, she was proud to show you off and was happy to have you. The other members did try to tease her a little but her spirits were too high for some teasing to faze her.

Whenever she wakes up before you, she likes to confess how much she loves you and how happy you make her feel. But she says it quietly because she doesn’t want you to wake up and feels too shy to saw it when you are awake.

NSFW HCs

She’s quite loving but can also be a little insatiable at times. Especially when she’s been away for a while, Yeji just can’t have enough of you.

She can make out for hours with you, her hands roaming everywhere.

She likes it when you talk dirty to her though whenever you mention it afterwards, she just covers her ears and tells you to shut up, her face completely red.

Always leaves marks on your neck. She just has to, the idea of kissing and biting and sucking your neck is so appealing to her.

She likes being gently choked a few rounds in so things feel even more intense.

She doesn’t mind being bold in public, sometimes when you both are out for dinner, you’ll feel her leg touch yours, tracing upwards slowly and dangerously all while she her face is innocently listening to you.

Car rides tend to get heated, teasing and suggestive comments, lots of touching and results in a lot of built up sexual tension so either you both end up heading home early or pull over to….release the tension.

Recently Yuna accidentally ended up walking in the dressing room because she saw Yeji was alone there only to hear you and Yeji on the phone saying something she definitely didn’t need to hear. To make matters worse worse, she had walked in noisily, calling out Yeji only to hear you speak about the things you and Yeji would do when she comes back.

She always dresses up, trying out different styles to see what she likes and what you like.

She likes the idea of roleplaying but hasn’t really done it yet or asked you because she doesn’t know how to bring it up without feeling embarrassed.

[14dayswithyou]

Meowdy Saint! ^^ lolol hello hello o/ hope you are doing good!!

So this masterpiece of a game has been invading my mind with ZERO chill lately which directly translated to me coming up with a TON of questions orz I really didn't realize how many I ended up compiling lol

If you don't feel like answering this many please feel absolutely free to ignore this ask or only answer the ones you like the most, the last thing I want is for you to feel overwhelmed! ^^

ALRIGHT LET'S-A GO

-do Rendacted's memories remain intact when he resets the day or do his wipe too with everyone else's? Also is there an in-universe answer for why he has these glitchy powers or is he just Built Different™?

-if angel made it VERY clear that they would be mad asf and prolly even start hating and leave Ren/[REDACTED] if he were to hurt their friends(or killing people bc this man needs to chill fr), would he listen to them? Bc I know that if he touches Violet, Elanor, Kiara or god forbid Moth I'm personally deleting his kneecaps 🥰

-since it seems to me that Ren/[REDACTED] is only kinda meh at cooking I was wondering if he actually made the not burnt pancakes in day 3 or if he had some store bought ones that he passed off as his own lol

-does he know how to give massages? :00

-during day 1, how did Ren come up with a book on the local flora?? It seems like such a random topic to pick when put on the spot without already having a genuine interest in it lmao

-if I understood correctly Maple should be Jae's dog right?? Did you have a specific breed or age in mind when creating her? I got curious because in my head she automatically popped up as a young australian shepherd to match with Jae's hyperactive dumbass energy lol❀⸜(˶´ ˘ `˶)⸝❀

-staying on the dog topic lol, in day 1 when angel gets up from the couch to get Ren the inflatable mattress(iirc) and he follows right behind them i immediately thought he acted like a puppy lmao. So would he mind being called 'puppy' as a pet name?

(I am not sure if this⬇️ questions falls under character deaths, if it does I really apologize and absolutely feel free to ignore it ^^)

-from an ask from last year it seems [REDACTED] would ultimately kill angel if there was ultimately not way to enter in their life?? Gotta say I was very taken aback by this, would this still be the case after a year of building more to his character? (Ok I went back to check the ask again but I can't for the life of me find it anymore maybe I dreamt it up idk😭😭 im really sorry if that is the case jdkslajdl)

-uuhh I know there is already a lot in this ask(im seriously sorry orz), but I was wondering if we will eventually get an SFW alphabet for Ren/[REDACTED] for the folks who don't care about the nasty 👉👈

-THIS IS THE LAST THING I PROMISE 👹 will there be a guide to get all the endings? I'm not sure if there is one already and in that case I missed it 100%

Also I find it ironic how the fandom is trying to find out every single aspect of Ren/[REDACTED]'s character the same way he must do with angel lmao

ALRIGHT THATS ALL IM SO SORRY FOR ASKING SO MUCH THE REN BRAINROT HOURS ARE SO REAL IM LOSING BRAINCELLS orz Remember to take care of yourself drink water and take breaks!! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

(Also sorry if some phrases don't make sense, english isn't my first language as I am 🤌 lolol)

✦゜ANSWERED: Under da cut because this got long >:3

-do Rendacted's memories remain intact when he resets the day or do his wipe too with everyone else's? Also is there an in-universe answer for why he has these glitchy powers or is he just Built Different™? Ren's memories remain intact!! I mean... He remembers each time you get a bad end and sometimes says something different... >:3 There is also an in-universe reason as to why he has his abilities — I won't spoil anything, but his real name (along with River's and one other character) have a reeeeally big tell. But what this tell is is for me to know and you to find out >:3

-if angel made it VERY clear that they would be mad asf and prolly even start hating and leave Ren/[REDACTED] if he were to hurt their friends(or killing people bc this man needs to chill fr), would he listen to them? Bc I know that if he touches Violet, Elanor, Kiara or god forbid Moth I'm personally deleting his kneecaps 🥰 Ren (and by extension [REDACTED]) knows not to harm anyone if he knows you won't like it — and even then — he won't actively show that murderous side of him in the first place. To Angel, Ren is just a timid, normal guy.

-since it seems to me that Ren/[REDACTED] is only kinda meh at cooking I was wondering if he actually made the not burnt pancakes in day 3 or if he had some store bought ones that he passed off as his own lol Ren is actually good at cooking, he's just a bit out of touch since he doesn't normally cook for himself! It's normally microwave meals or takeout for him... ^^; And yes, Ren did burn and burn the pancakes in Day 3 — he was distracted by something on his phone :3

Bonus cut Day 3 content: I took out the scene where Ren started to profusely apologise for burning the pancake because he often had to cook when he was younger. Given the dynamic of his family and the environment he grew up in, Ren didn't have much room to make mistakes ;n; I cut this scene out because I felt bad ksgskd So y'all get to have flustered, happy Ren instead!!

-does he know how to give massages? :00 If that was one of Angel's interests or desires, then sure!! ^^

-during day 1, how did Ren come up with a book on the local flora?? It seems like such a random topic to pick when put on the spot without already having a genuine interest in it lmao Someone else likes flora too, and it sure would be funny if Ren (eventually) starts to mimic certain traits and interests of the person you have the highest affinity/relationship points with in order to make himself look more appealing… >:3c

-if I understood correctly Maple should be Jae's dog right?? Did you have a specific breed or age in mind when creating her? I got curious because in my head she automatically popped up as a young australian shepherd to match with Jae's hyperactive dumbass energy lol❀⸜(˶´ ˘ `˶)⸝❀ It was mentioned in Jae's lore post (I'll link it here once I find it), but Maple is a Labrador! (Leon would be Jae's Australian Shepherd hehe) In my mind, Maple is only 2 or 3 years old, but that wouldn't really fit the official timeframe... ^^; Jae adopted Maple during high school so he wouldn't feel lonely at home, and it's been over 6+ years since then.... hgdshjg

-staying on the dog topic lol, in day 1 when angel gets up from the couch to get Ren the inflatable mattress(iirc) and he follows right behind them i immediately thought he acted like a puppy lmao. So would he mind being called 'puppy' as a pet name? Angel affectionately calls Ren a puppy during the scene in Day 1 where they meet up after work, so that nickname definitely could work!

-from an ask from last year it seems [REDACTED] would ultimately kill angel if there was ultimately not way to enter in their life?? Gotta say I was very taken aback by this, would this still be the case after a year of building more to his character? (Ok I went back to check the ask again but I can't for the life of me find it anymore maybe I dreamt it up idk😭😭 im really sorry if that is the case jdkslajdl) aaa I think you might be mistaking that ask for something else? ;v; [REDACTED] would NEVER harm Angel in any capacity, and they're a very patient person. Even if it took decades for Angel to fall in love with him, they'll wait.

-uuhh I know there is already a lot in this ask(im seriously sorry orz), but I was wondering if we will eventually get an SFW alphabet for Ren/[REDACTED] for the folks who don't care about the nasty 👉👈 You're fine!! And I'm open to doing that! I'll add it to my list hehe

-THIS IS THE LAST THING I PROMISE 👹 will there be a guide to get all the endings? I'm not sure if there is one already and in that case I missed it 100% I've shared a spreadsheet that lists all the available choices, the points you earn from each of them, and the endings you can get — however it's only available on Discord and I don't really want to share it outside of the server and potentially put it in the hands of minors. Sorry!!

Also I find it ironic how the fandom is trying to find out every single aspect of Ren/[REDACTED]'s character the same way he must do with angel lmao Hehe >:3 There's a loooot of lore that won't ever be mentioned in the game (since it doesn't seem fitting/I don't see a reason to), so I'm happy to provide it here!

[vinylfoxbooks]

October 13 - Wave | @into-the-jeggyverse | wc: 963 Implied NSFW at the end

Regulus hates this. He hates the beach, Sirius knows that. And yet he still dragged his little brother along on his little vacation trip with his friends -- and it’s not like he had the courtesy to invite any of Regulus’ friends. 

The sun is too hot, there’s sand in places that Regulus would rather not talk about, the children that are everywhere are loud and running along the beach, and he’s so pale, that he has to hide in the shade otherwise he’ll end up cherry red and in pain -- Sirius doesn’t seem to care about it, despite being just as pale as his brother, though Remus is pushing to make sure Sirius walks out of this only slightly burnt. Regulus would like to read his book but all of the conditions are preventing him from doing just that. 

Specifically the one condition of James running around without a shirt on. 

Regulus is but a mere gay man, and James is built like a literal god. Who gave them the right to walk around without a shirt on when they’re built like that. All of their tattoos are on display -- mind you, Regulus didn’t previously know that James had any tattoos other than the ones visible on their arms -- and they’re laughing and messing around with Sirius in the water shoving each other into the waves, making their swim shorts stick to their thighs and water glisten on their skin. And, fuck, the reminder that they’re his when he sees the engagement ring sitting on his finger.

“You look like you might combust.” Remus muses from next to Regulus, bookmarking his own book, “Are you alright?”

“Mhm.”

“You’ve never been to the beach with James, have you?” Regulus shakes his head and the older laughs, “You poor thing. Just don’t let the jealousy get to you.” “What do you mean?” 

Remus hums and gestures to the beach around him, “I mean, we’re in a place full of half-clothed people, many are probably single or teens that think they might have a chance with him and I mean… you can admit how your fiance looks.”

Regulus feels his face heating just a bit at the mention of his relationship with James, “If people start flirting with them, we’re never going to the beach again.”

The older barks out a laugh, “You and I both know that they’re too oblivious to realise that people are flirting with them.”

“That makes it worse.” Regulus pouts. Remus laughs and is going to say more, but Sirius comes up to them and starts dripping water onto his boyfriend, taking a second to shake out his hair like a dog and spraying water all over them, which gets him yelled at by both. 

Not long after that, James comes up to them and takes a towel to run it through their hair -- like a civilised human being, unlike his brother -- before moving to settle down on the large towel Regulus has sat on, “Hi baby. Enjoying the beach?”

“Not really.” Regulus hums, “But you seem to be having a good time.” 

James smiles but doesn’t otherwise respond, leaning down to pull him into a quick kiss, “You can always head back to the house, you don’t need to hang out here if you don’t want to be here.”

“You say that like Sirius won’t force me to stay here.”

James hums, “I can get him to let you go, you’ve spent two hours here, that should be enough for him. Could you grab me the fruit?” Regulus nods and fishes around in the mini cooler that they brought, pulling out the plastic container of fruit that he and James cut up earlier, handing it to his fiance. James thanks him quickly and starts eating, feeding a couple blueberries to Regulus when requested.

The rest of the day goes alright. Regulus stays at the beach to monitor the people that approach his partner, only to be shocked when a woman around his age walks up to him and starts flirting with him, which Remus snorts at. And while Regulus is fully aware of what is happening, he isn’t quite sure how to respond because of all the people at the beach right now, why would someone want to flirt with him? The antisocial, ‘sickly victorian boy’ in Sirius’ words, that has been huddled in the shade the entire time with as much skin covered as possible -- in the back of his mind, he can hear Remus remarking that some people are into his look while gesturing to James. 

Just as he’s figuring out how to tell the girl that he’s very not into women, James comes storming up to them. They smile softly at Regulus and sit down next to him, wrapping their arms around his shoulders, “Hey baby, who’s this?” And Regulus gets the delight of watching as realisation dawns on the girl. She stammers out an excuse to leave and walks away to where her friends are sitting, watching them and giggling. 

“Were you jealous?” Regulus asks as soon as she’s out of earshot. 

James hums, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You just looked uncomfortable.”

“Mhm,” Remus nods, “And you don’t want to go back to the house right now?” And James’ face lights up at the suggestion and they nod frantically. Regulus laughs and leans up to kiss them before pulling them to a stand. James goes easily. They say their temporary goodbyes to Remus -- who laughs, probably knowing what is going on -- and waves to them, telling them that they’ll explain to Sirius. Then James is practically pulling Regulus to the vacation house that the group rented. 

Regulus thinks he’s starting to like the beach, so long as he’s the one being flirted with.

[luci4theminorannoyance]

Hi! may I request something? the residential masked fellas (Ghost, Konig, Keegan, & Roach), x therapist!reader, who's a billionaire? (shocking part, the billionaire part was not mentioned by our reader) I imagine reader spoiling their s/o with gifts & affectionate stuff they deserve, while helping them get a sense of theirselves or something like that 😭 (most of the cod characters need therapy, to be honest) BUT- they start to suspect how on earth did reader get all of the stuff? cause i'm sure reader gifted them the expensive kind- but anyways, reader just casually just says their a billionaire, like it's normal- how would they react to this?

Please take care of yourself & stay safe !! 💖

a/n: you take care too!!! Sorry to all my followers for not posting in forever 😔 I had family stuff going on, and I’m a bit burnt out so I couldn’t come up with story plots for some of the characters

konig:

-konig is a well off man to begin with, but doesn’t use much of the money he earns with his impressive title as he has little idea what to actually buy when it comes to things being worthwhile, and hence since you give him so many gifts, his house is mostly filled with gifts then actual things he bought

-always took the gifts at face value and adored the thought put into them and never really thought to think of how much money you must spend

-eventually though, one of his few off duty friends asked why he had such high class things in his house as they pointed out gifts you had simply given him and he started to get quite curious himself

-called you up one night to ask, waking you up as he asked a simple “uh- maus? You know the mixer you got me last week when I said I wanted to make cookies is 800 dollars, why??”

-you had to stop laughing out loud from his confusion since you thought you had been open with it due to the amount of things you simply gave him

Roach:

-stayed in his cramped barracks a lot of the time and very rarely replaced any of his tearing gear because he was too tired to do so, he just generally didn’t care how the public saw him and had little care on himself

-of course that changed when you practically threw him new clothes, new gear, new facial care for his tiny apartment he used when off duty. He started to actually enjoy getting to indulge in a massage or a face mask while he simply felt all clean

-of course, he thought it was all temporary, that you were just spending a particular amount on a well paying month, but as it went on and on continued, he started to get more and more confused

-one day when you took him on a shopping trip, he saw you check your checking account and THATS when he realized that you planned to pay for his every whim personally and could without damage… a very flustering experience

Ghost:

-never truly is off guard even when off duty or around people, it’s built into him from trauma and past and his job doesn’t help to much with that

-however, he does have a particularly interesting hobby that calms him down more then most things can, even you (although he adores you with all his heart). And that hobbies is photography. Of things he enjoys, that is. He never put money into a very good camera, never seeing the need in doing so until you bought him one…

-he cherishes that camera more then he cherishes his mask, which is saying quite a bit. He didn’t know how much he actually needed the upgrade till he saw the difference in his photos

-he of course, shows it off to his team. And soap points out exactly how pricey it must be for a lil old therapist to buy. he starts to get worried, did you spend money you didn’t have on him? Did he take away from your own funds? Did he just take it and not think about the damage you might have created yourself without even thinking twice???

-calls you on his burner phone in a tiny bit of a panic, but it doesn’t show too much under his gruff tone. He lets out a sigh he didn’t notice he was holding in once you told him that you in fact had the money to buy that camera 100 times over

[w0yxe]

Imagine the past soulmates of the Bad Boys seeing how much their partner has changed this season.

Scar couldn’t care less.

Or atleast that’s what he tries to tell himself. Grian never even loved him in Double Life so why should Scar care how he’s doing? BigB should probably be more confused then him even if Scar knows this entire persona is very out of character for Grian. The alliance probably won’t even last, knowing him he’ll probably betray his allies.

But no matter how much he tries to tell himself that he doesn’t care, he can’t get rid of the feeling that this is the only time Grian has changed his skin in the entire series.

The two full seasons Scar had been with Grian, the latter never switched out of his red sweater but now that Jimmy and Joel have rolled around suddenly he’s in a leather jacket with sunglasses? Occasionally even a suit? He can only feel a little hurt because at the end of the day Grian probably doesn’t care about him anymore…it’s not like hes made an effort to talk.

————————————————————————

Tango doesn’t know how to feel.

This wasn’t his rancher, this wasn’t the ball of sunshine that he knew last season. This guy was…confident? He was bolder and Tango didn’t know if he liked that or not. His Jimmy, his rancher, was sweet and caring, even if he was airheaded at times it was all with their best interest in mind.

Maybe it was just his exterior now but it looked far less friendly than the one Tango knew, jean jacket now replaced with leather and sunglasses permanently covering his shining blue eyes. The oceans eyes that put out Tangos flames of rage in the lowest point of their lives when Scar had burnt down their ranch.

This Jimmy also only seemed to take risks and not care about his own safety, dying twice to pure stupidity and recklessness. It would hurt Tango, like a phantom pain, every time he had to see a death message from “SolidarityGaming” in chat. Especially if it was easily preventable. Especially if it wouldn’t had happened had Tango been with him instead.

————————————————————————

Etho didn’t see a change.

Joel had always been more reckless than the average player. He would mlg off cliffs for crying out loud! His hostile personality also stayed the same although it did come out more being able to fully embrace it with this facade and all. While that personality may have been directed at him (or his cows) sometimes it was nothing Etho couldn’t handle.

Especially with that shoulder cut leather jacket, studs lining the edges of the sleeves and sunglasses that make it look as though he were staring you down whenever you talk to him.

There was a strange feeling in him though, when he heard that he wanted to built on the sea with Jimmy. That feeling only grew when he’d overhear the trio laughing about whatever jokes they’d decide to make.

Joel was also smiling. It’s not like he hadn’t with Etho but the smile Etho knew seemed to hide the truth of “please don’t leave me, I can do these things for you” “I’m worthy of your affection” whereas this one was of pure enjoyment with his team. He just wished he treated Joel better so that instead of only having memories from one season, he would be the one making Joel laugh and smile in this one.

[fandomsnrambles]

The spinjitzu family has recently become my roman empire for some reason, you’re all going to see so much of them 😭

Anyway, i’ve been thinking about his relationships with his sons recently. And I know he doesn’t have a good relationship with any of them.

I know people argue ‘Wu was his favourite’ but i think if we actually look at how he acts, you realise he didn’t really have a favourite. I also feel personally inclined to respectfully mention that just because Garmadon said it, doesn’t make it true. Characters have biases that mess with their worldviews after all. It’s like saying Wu’s to blame for the devourer’s bite because he said he was. Even though he was like seven, maybe nine and had no idea that snake even existed.

Thats why you should take everything they say with a grain of salt and then consider their actions.

Wu’s relationship with his father is complicated. In the spinjitzu books he mentions how he wants his father’s approval, but doesn’t know how to start with getting it. We also get hints of the FSM’s (flawed) parenting methods in the show. I’ve noticed he’s emotionally distant even if he’s physically there. I mean, Wu says his father talked to them (Garmadon and Wu) less after the Aspheera incident. Makes me think that the FSM was definitely not there emotionally.

Due to this, Wu’s emotional needs as a child weren’t really met. His fathers distance hurt him and the FSM (maybe accidentally) neglected him. I say accidentally because i’m pretty sure the FSM is a traumatised child soldier who doesn’t know how to properly cope with everything so they just shut down/dissociate.

Wu was also raised with high expectations (alongside Garmadon.) This probably put him under a lot of stress to keep up. I’m thinking gifted child who got burnt out and more depressed as he aged.

I also think the FSM has trust and paranoia issues. You can look at Nineko and the way they went about dying for this. This guy really hands their son a script of where he died without telling him he gave it to him and mentions the bare minimum details. (I wonder if mentioning too much details got the FSM hurt. Maybe thats why he’s so distant.) Of course, trauma doesn’t really excuse being a flawed parent.

I also feel the need to mention that Wu unintentionally copies his father’s trauma responses. Heck, we could even talk about how Garmadon does the same, and later Lloyd. They all bottle their emotions and issues and hope nothing bad ever happens with that ever. Too bad for them though, we know how this ends

(Oof this is ✨generational trauma✨ at work)

Moving on to Garmadon, we know that after he got bitten by the devourer, the FSM helped him through his episodes and tries his best to find a cure. From this i can honestly say that the FSM did love and care for his sons. But this doesn’t mean they knew how to properly show that they did (especially because he doesn’t have a proper basis for what parent-child relationships should even look like.)

We see this when we get to know of Garmadon’s insecurities as a child. He doesn’t think there was anything wrong with him and seems to hate how the FSM tries to find a cure for him. Maybe because he doesn’t like the implication that he needs ‘fixing’ more than anything else. Garmadon’s also different than Wu in the sense that he grows more resentful of his father as he grows older whilst Wu clings to his father’s attention to get approval/praise.

I also want to mention how this resentment built up also affects how his perception of Wu’s relationship with their dad. He thinks Wu is favoured probably because Wu doesn’t have the venom and is the good one (because the venom apparently makes Garmadon the ‘bad’ one) and he sees his younger brother as the golden child. This probably built to jealousy and then guilt for the jealousy because Garmadon does love his brother a lot.

The high expectations also come’s into play here. It probably puts a lot of weight on Garmadon’s shoulders. Which doesn’t make his growing feelings of resentment better nor does it make his insecurities about his venom any better.

What makes this whole situation worse is that NO ONE in this family knows how to communicate. Wu doesn’t tell his dad or his brother how he feels, Garmadon doesn’t as well and FSM wouldn’t be caught breathing a word of his feelings to be honest.

This whole family would rather die than communicate ffs.

In conclusion:

[mostly-marvel-musings]

So Inappropriate

A/N: Alright, you guys wanted it, here it is. This little ficlet based off of the video that’s got our Stark Squad all riled up. Leave a comment, heart or reblog if you enjoyed it.

Pairing: Tony Stark x F! Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut-ish fluff. There is a significant age gap between the reader and Tony (say 20 years?) Also the reader is Bruce Banner’s assistant.

Word count: 1896

Tony Stark Masterlist

.

You were just about done arranging the equipment in the lab when you heard the door slide open.

“Dr. Banner, I’m done for the day unless you need me for anything else!” you called out without glancing up, not realizing the person who had walked in certainly wasn’t your boss.

“Dr. Banner has left the premises for the day, Miss Y/L/N. But I might need you for something.”

Tony Stark made an appearance, his signature smirk adorning his face as he traipsed in closer, his walk oozing all sorts of confidence and authority. Of course, your face did very little to hide the blush that creeped up, heating your cheeks in an instant.

Why did this man have such an influence on you? You’d never know.

Well, not exactly. It was pretty obvious. The genius, billionaire, playboy and philanthropist had this effect on most individuals. His natural charisma and intimidating presence was all wrapped in an impeccably trimmed-goatee-bearing handsome package. The guy was senior to you. Much senior. But there was something about him that always drew you in, an impish charm that was all too endearing, his commanding aura that compelled you to behave. Almost challenged you to confront your deepest, darkest desires.

“Earth to Y/N?” he snapped you out of your reverie, making you accidentally knock over a set of beakers kept on the platform.

Cursing under your breath, you bent to pick up the shattered glass as did Tony, resulting in your head banging against his, further adding to your embarrassment.

Just great!

“Careful, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” Tony murmured, taking the shards of glass from your hand as Dum-E, one of his bots zoomed in to sweep it all away.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark. I–I’m sorry.” you fumbled, wincing as you saw you an angry drop of red ooze out of your finger from where you had evidently cut yourself.

“Ah, you poor thing. C’mere.” not awaiting a response, Tony clutched your hand and brought it to his lips, gently sucking on your index finger all while his eyes bore into yours.

A part of you wanted to run away from the scene like a scaredy cat but, the other part was completely rooted to the spot. Not daring to move an inch, as if if you did, your little daydream would break. Your cheeks probably burnt with the heat, and you could feel your pulse rush to the part of your finger that was currently in his mouth, smarting. His tongue soothed over the cut softly, sending tingles of desire down your back, the moistness between your legs increasing with his little action.

He is your boss. Not exactly but he built this place. He was your boss’s best friend. These thoughts were quite inappropriate.

Almost as quickly as it began, he let go of your hand, his touch still lingering strong as you cleared your throat, watching his bot whir away from the scene.

“Thank you, I think. Um. For your help.” you stared at your feet, unsure what to do next.

You grabbed your things and stuffed them in your bag, very aware of the fact that Tony and signature smirk were following your every move.

Why was this man allowed to have this effect on you?

You stopped right by the door, turning back to face the man who hadn’t moved from his spot.

“Uh, Mr. Stark? You said you wanted me for something?”

“Right! Well, we have a charity, inauguration, felicitation, something here at the Tower in two days. I wanted you to come.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking at you intently as he waited for an answer.

“Oh! Are–are you sure?”

That was a surprise. You had been working with Dr. Banner for a better part of a year now however it had always been strictly professional. You were aware of the many, many galas and events that took place, you were just never a part of them. Until now.

“Yeah. I’ll have Big Green send you the details. You can bring a date. Or not.”

He winked cheekily, walking up the stairs right next to you before the doors slid open once again, gesturing you to go first.

Needless to say you were flabbergasted. A rush of excitement brought a pep in your step as you headed home, going through your wardrobe in detail and what could be a Stark-party-worthy outfit.

.

Tony’s eyes scanned the room, eager to find you in a sea of impeccably dressed people. He couldn’t shake you off from his thoughts. Not for a while now, if he would admit to himself.

His curiosity grew ever since he saw you for the first time, entering the lab and giving Bruce Banner a shy smile, eyes locking with him and holding his gaze, almost unable to look away. He sensed you were nervous, it was cute. It made his cock stir. He could not remember the last time he felt this way. You were a young, smart, vivacious thing that was too young for him, and yet he couldn’t resist you.

Not that he tried. You drew him in right from the start.

Tony had found you chatting animatedly to your boss some time later. You looked stunning in the floor-length number you had decided on. Your features were beautifully highlighted with the hair and make-up you’d chosen.

His wish to have you closer had been fulfilled as the party warmed up, people sat around in groups, drinks in their hands while conversation flowed. Of course, the Avengers had a favorite corner they had gathered at, the center of attention being the one and only, Iron Man. He was awarded a trophy for his philanthropic work earlier which now sat in his lap proudly, an almost phallic-shaped glass that had his name etched.

“I can’t be the only one thinking this.” Tony smirked, holding the award against his crotch and earning collective groans from the crowd around. The action brought warmth rushing to your cheeks, your wildly imaginative mind pictured him doing that to his member, letting out soft grunts.

“You alright, Miss Y/L/N?” Your attention was captured by someone standing next to you, pointing to your dress.

Unknown to your preoccupied self, the filled glass of wine you held had tilted enough to spill on your dress.

“Oh God! Shit!” you exclaimed, turning a few heads your way as you grabbed a few tissues to blot the spilled liquid as much as you could. The darker color of your dress masked the big stain that had probably formed.

It was hard to miss Tony’s piercing gaze as he gave you one of his lopsided grins, clearly giddy with the reaction he had hoped his stunt would achieve. If anything, one fact was becoming clearer by the day.

Your attraction towards this man was increasing and it seemed he was equally interested in you too.

.

It had been a hectic week, you sighed and leaned back against your chair, closing your eyes for a moment as your exhausted body relaxed momentarily. You couldn’t wait to get home and soak your butt in a hot bubble bath.

With the events of Ultron, there had been extra work load that you had volunteered to help out with at the Tower. You didn’t mind, of course. It meant spending a lot of time with the Avengers and a particular one at that too. Tony spent hours, sometimes days holed up in the lab, working with Bruce and yourself.

It was almost impossible not to be distracted or turned on by his presence there. To see him laser-focused at work, fingers gliding over keyboards and holograms in front of them as he paced about the space. It was all too hot.

Shutting your computer for the day, you grabbed your things and made your way out of the lab. Tony had retreated back to his floor some time ago and had promptly forgotten his phone on his work desk. It rang with a start, catching your attention and making you walk back in to grab it.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to bother the billionaire genius in his home since there had been multiple occasions where Dr. Banner asked you to summon the man whenever he got a lead on Ultron.

The elevator dinged to a stop, the doors opening to his grand living room that offered a view of New York people would kill for. His bedroom door seemed left ajar as you made your way over, stopping in your tracks as you heard a muffled groan.

Curiosity got the better of you as you sneaked a look inside his bedroom, not able to stop yourself as the sounds increased.

You felt your mouth go dry at the sight before you. Tony lay on his bed against the pillows, eyes scrunched up, pants undone., soft sighs leaving his lips as his hand moved up and down on his erect cock.

It felt so wrong to watch him pleasure himself in the privacy of his own home and yet so right, you felt yourself blush at the sight. It was like you were unable to look away, he had his fingers wrapped around his shaft, moving at a steady pace as you saw precum leak at the tip of his head. His pretty, thick lips were parted while his chest rose and fell, eyes shut in ecstasy.

You were about to peel your gaze away from the scene when you heard a faint whisper of what you thought was your name.

“Oh Y/N..” his breathy moan sent desire to pool right between your legs, a part of you still processing the whole thing while the other wanting to push that door open and join the man or perhaps help him finish.

His thumb swiped across his red tip before the pace of his strokes increased, his pants echoed in the room while you felt your entrance clench around nothing, desiring the very man who was masturbating while thinking of you.

You were sure your panties were ruined by the time Tony’s hips jerked and you saw him climax, ropes of cum spurting from his cock and spilling on his hand and lower abdomen. That had to be the hottest thing you’d seen in your life.

You definitely needed to take care of yourself after this, that bubble bath was going to be an elaborate one. His softened cock still lay open for your eyes to feast on, his cum scattered on his body begging you to be licked clean.

Your thoughts came to a standstill when the phone you held in your hand rang terribly loudly, interrupting the little moment. Your scramble to hide or run was rendered useless when Tony glanced outside and saw you.

“It is rude of you to just stand out there and watch, Miss Y/L/N. So inappropriate.”

[r0seb100d]

hiiiiii i was wondering if u could do a dallas winston oneshot about fem reader who has had a really really bad day and she goes to dallas for comfort?? tysm! ❤️

I’m sorry I’ve been so slow with requests, school has been so draining and I barely have time to write :(

Hii! Thank you for the request, I hope you enjoy <3 🤍

Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of harassment

Mascara running down her little bambi eyes

Tears were streaming down y/n’s flushed pink face, glistening in the tangerine afternoon sun as she walked with determination to Buck’s. Her aching arms were wrapped tightly around her brown fur coat that shielded her shaking body from the autumn chills of mid-October.

 

This particular Thursday had been absolutely terrible, and she longs for it to be over. Just the mere thoughts of what had occurred caused more tears to spill, running along her face and dropping onto the crispy burnt orange leaves that crunched beneath the weight of her Doc Marten boots. 

The day had begun with a nasty lecture from her mother about the state of her room and the entire house, for that matter. Though y/n did agree with the fact that her room was in an appalling state, with clothes scattered across her baby pink armchair, various bowls and mugs that were missing from their usual place in the kitchen, which now sat shamefully on her desk, and the embarrassing amount of cat fur that had built up in her carpet, her mother’s harsh words stung badly. 

She was already in a sour mood by the time she had arrived at school at 8:30 am, and she would have stayed at home had it not been her mother’s day off work. The rest of her day dragged on in the same tiring way it always did. Although it had been draining, y/n would have been feeling relatively alright, ready to go home and get on with her usual night routine had it not been for what had happened precisely ten minutes after the end of last period.

Whilst rummaging through her locker for her history textbook, y/n felt a less than gentle tap on her shoulder. As she spun around, she was met face-to-face with none other than the guy whom her best friend had just begun going out with. The school’s corridors had mostly cleared up, with most of the students rushing out of the place they all had a common hatred towards.

She had been caught off guard, but assumed he was looking for her friend or had something to ask about her.

“Hi.”

The simple word seemed to have prompted him to move uncomfortably close to her. That was the last thing she would have expected and led her to stumble into the door of her locker. 

“Hey babe, why so nervous?” 

His tone was menacing. The phrase was completely void of any genuine care, and y/n was feeling beyond anxious. What on earth did he want from her?

“Are you looking for Sarah?” 

Her voice came out in a weak mumble; she was desperate to get away from the situation.

“No actually.” His fingers reached for a strand of her hair, tangling it between them. “I was looking for you. I was thinking maybe you should come with me, hm? Or are you still with that trash boyfriend of yours?”

The mention of Dallas made her heart jump. She wished he was here with her to protect her.

“I’m still with Dallas, and you’re with Sarah.” 

It felt ridiculous having to state the obvious, but y/n was met with a sinister grin from the man who towered over her like a predator.

"Please, I could hardly care about the little slut; as for Winston, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind sharing.”

His rough hand had slipped beneath her skirt before she could even blink.

“Get off of me!” 

She slapped his hand away and attempted to push past him, but he was far stronger than her, and he shoved her back against the locker.

Y/n yelled in fear and then kneed him in the groin and slid out of his grip before sprinting out of the school. 

The only place she could stomach going to after what had happened was to Buck’s in hopes of finding Dallas there.

Wiping at her eyes and smoothing down her wind-mussed hair, y/n took in a sharp, shaky breath and then stepped into the bar and headed straight up to the first floor.

Praying silently, she knocked on the door. 

Like an angel sent to her, Dallas opened his door with a scowl on his face, clearly irritated by the interruption, but his face immediately softened when he noticed it was her and then twisted into concern when he noticed her tears.

"Hey, hey, doll, what’s goin on?” 

He gently reached for her hand to guide her into his room and sat down on his bed, pulling her onto his lap, brushing away a few stray strands of her hair that had stuck to the tears.

She immediately buried her face into his chest and pressed herself close to him, occasionally letting out a few quiet sobs. Dallas simply wrapped his arms around her, running his hand up and down her back, hoping to calm her down. He had never seen her so worked up before, and it worried him.

"Shh, it’s okay. I’m here; you wanna tell me what’s got ya so upset?” 

He whispered softly into her hair that smelled sweetly of strawberries before pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“I-I, today-”

The words could barely come out in a coherent manner, each one interrupted by another sob.

“Take your time sweetheart; breathe; c'mon, you’re safe here.” 

Y/n had never heard him speak in such a delicate way. It was as if she was made from glass, and he was terrified of her shattering right there in his arms.

“Um, well, today was already so shitty when I was yelled at again this morning being told what an awful daughter I am and how a parent could fail so badly at raising their child. Then school was just so boring and Sarah wasn’t in, and I hardly ever get to see her anymore because she’s so wrapped up in that boyfriend of hers.” Her words increased in speed and pitch; she was trying her absolute hardest to get everything out before she broke down. “And she doesn’t even realise that he is a horrible, horrible person. He- he just appeared behind me and started saying all these things about how I should go out with him and how he doesn’t care about Sarah and that you’re trash and wouldn’t mind sharing.” 

Dallas’s brows were tightly knit together in subtle rage as he listened to all of the crap she had to put up in just one day.

“Then he reached under my skirt, and I tried pushing him away, but he was just so much stronger, and I was so scared, so I just kicked his groin and ran straight here.” 

Dallas couldn’t hide the extreme anger he felt blazing within him as he heard what she told him.

“I’m gonna kill him. I swear, just tell me who the fucker is, and he’ll regret ever even lookin’ at you.”

Y/n still trembled, petrified of how this was all going to end up, especially with her best friend.

“Look at me, doll.” 

She glanced up at him with glassy eyes. 

“Try to forget about it, okay? I won’t let anything like this happen to you ever again, c’mere lie down.”

He moved further onto the bed so they could lie down, and he pulled the blankets over them.

She shifted over slightly so she was facing him and cuddled into him as close as possible, feeling safe with him. Dallas smiled at her whilst wiping the tears from her cheeks and then kissed her salty skin gingerly. 

“I love you Dal.” 

She whispered to him. 

“I love you too sweetheart.” 

As the evening settled in, y/n felt at peace for the first time in 12 hours; her breaths had steadied, and she listened to the faint thrum of music coming from the bar downstairs. She held Dallas’s hand in hers, playing with the rings on his fingers, finding it oddly soothing, and before long, she fell asleep in the comfort of his arms.

♱ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♱ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♱ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♱ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

౨ৎ 1.3k words ౨ৎ

[lullaebies]

Not sure if you still want Jaehaegon prompts BUT a fic/drabble of the way Aegon III and Jaehaera both grieve specifically their mothers would go insane especially with your writing. Them being both extremely codependent yet unable to talk to the other about this one thing, the suppressed guilt, the waking nightmares Aegon would surely have of Jaehaera’s beloved father having his mother eaten alive right in front of him…plus the books say Rhaenyra was so dependent on having Aegon around 24/7 after she lost all her other children, how would that manifest in him now?

Have a really nice day!!!

a/n: ahhhhh i loved writing this prompt. it had been on my mind since i got it and i finally got time to tap into it (as well as other reqs that i'm slowly chipping into!). i hope you will enjoy this dear, and thank you so much for the compliments too <3 it ended up more about Aegon's experiences but there are touches on Jaehaera's side of things. I do write TG side of things more often though so he def deserves the focus I feel!

“Even while we are in the castle, you are not to leave me. Not for a moment, Aegon,” she says, tugging roughly on his hand. 

“Mother, I—” he replies, frightened at the clutch of her grip. He first tries to escape, pull his arm away, but she holds him tighter while his legs try to match her pace. “Mother, it hurts!”

And her grip suddenly loosens. He nearly trips, on the sands of Dragonstone, the dunes he had once built castles with on this shore, with his brothers. Rhaenyra falls to her knees upon it, clutching him against her in an apologetic embrace. “I am sorry. I am sorry…” she swallows

He feels the very air of the island is awry, not the same, as her feet and dress bury into the sand. He holds her back, trying to keep her afloat, though his own throat is dry at what to say. Ser Alfred Broome and his men watching him made him both shy and chilled.

She runs a hand through his hair. “We shall see to that our home is safe, and stay safe, the two of us, yes?” 

Aegon is scared, feeling dwarved by the world, but his mother’s voice is begging, and his only offer to console her, as always, is to agree.

“...Yes—”

The earth beneath becomes hot, as the sun rises above Dragonstone, turning from yellow to gold. Its rays turn into flare, and the sand turns into glass. He screams for his mother to flee — but glass shatters, puncturing his throat as he screams.

He wakes up in cold sweat, his whole body trembling. He is alone on his side of the bed, and the wind blows harshly from the open window, but not enough to dispel the heat from his bones. As if possessed, he lifts himself up from the bed, eyes taking in the dark room.

“Aegon?” Jaehaera stands up. She had sat by a roaring fireplace, making the woods within it crack as they blacken. And for a moment, it is equal parts anxiety and betrayal, tears against the dam that are his silver lash line. His feet thunder before him, grabbing the golden pitcher of wine on their table, tossing it whole at the fireplace. Droplets from it scatter like tricklets of blood on the carpet. The fire sizzles as Jaehaera gasps, but it is not fully put out.

“It won’t disappear, it won’t disappear!” his low voice trembles. His breaths feel like fire courses up his throat, and he feels sick. On the brink of vomiting from disgust — his own home is not safe, his own body betraying him to become flame — he thinks Jaehaera too is running away from him, but soon enough, she finds a glass of water within their room to douse the remaining flame.

The room then darkens significantly. The moonlight remains, refusing to let him become blind for the end, but he closes his eyes, wanting to refuse to its will too. He is not burnt, but he feels fragile ash, left behind in the wind, falling to the floor.

In the complete silence that dominates the room, in the black escape of his closed eyes, he sees his mother, as though she has never left. He hadn’t been allowed to move an inch from her, until the very moment the beast had devoured her. The one moment he wanted to run to her, make her move. The fire devoured her, as did the dragon, but he remained behind, her shadow.

A shadow of a man remains today, too.

The utter quiet that he regains his mind in remains unbroken until he opens his eyes, doing his best to keep any tears unshed. Jaehaera doesn’t dare to move a step, her fingers curling around the empty glass of water as she watches him. His heart weakens again — he should’ve known not to be so helpless in the presence of women just as helpless as he.

Mother, I’m sorry, he wants to return to the dream, to say that to her instead. He cannot, but his wife is here.

“I…” it’s on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t know how to begin. He doesn’t want to apologize, when he still feels his mother’s hold on him. But I shouldn’t have scared her, still, and yet again, if he does apologize, he’d have to explain why, to begin with. 

He and Jaehaera don’t speak of these things. For the better of them both, for the sake of their lost loved kin, for the sake of love not being lost again. She knows what had occurred on Dragonstone, as he knows what has occurred in King’s Landing. The histories will not forget, but they ever attempt to do so, regardless.

‘Tis be duty, for the very realm. He would say that to himself, again and again, until his own guilt creeps up on him. Reminding him so — that this is his sin, the need to cling to the daughter of the scorching sun, the last light.

Jaehaera puts away the cup, and approaches him with ghostly steps. If she had liked, she could thunder through the room. She could give him her known scowl and turn away. She could even leave with less than a whisper. Everything is imaginable, when they have went through all imaginable. As a little girl, he heard her weep more than he can count, even from the other side of Maegor’s Holdfast, but she’s no longer that little girl.

She lowers herself to her knees too, and reaches over to embrace him, guiding his head to occupy the crook of her neck. The stone floor is firm, but he feels himself sinking into her. His breaths grow wavering again.

“I’m sorry,” it finally comes out, those words and the tears, and the honest, brutal truth. “It won’t leave me,” he says. “That memory, my mother—” he stops himself, shutting his eyes hard.

It aches so deeply, and it tears him apart, him of the past and him of the future. In this present, this very moment, he doesn’t even know who he is at all. Doesn’t know how to talk, or explain, or do a thing but freeze in time, so afraid of fire.

Jaehaera holds him tighter. Her fingers move soothingly through the nearby white of his hair, when she finally allows herself to speak. “Do you remember the first time you held me?” she asks him. 

He swallows. He remembers, yes. One would expect it to be their first night, but it wasn’t. His first hold of her had been a full year prior, when she had been reduced to tears at a feast. Nothing of his machinations, but of his regents. Their planning, however, had not taken into account that that day had been the anniversary of his aunt Helaena’s death. Or perhaps they had, and only wished to overwrite the day’s meaning. 

Aegon hadn’t realized. Jaehaera had barely spoken a pip to him back then. But then she broke down in tears in the middle of the feast, and although he had been apt to ignore her from their distant rooms, he couldn’t quite ignore it then when The Queen fled the room, and everyone simply stood and watched.

None of his regents could hold him in his place, for the very principle he refuses to ever be reduced to a spectator by ‘loyal’ men. 

And so he went after her — and they were ever so clear with how she looked down the moat, and mumbled about ‘mum’. He had been there when her mother died; it connected quickly. There were no words he could dare speak. No matter how averse to touch he had been, his only way to answer her had been his arms coming around her, and letting her sob within them.

He assumed it would be a futile effort, as holding the hands of those who slowly passed from Winter Fever had been… but she cried until she fell asleep, until he had already been lulled by the night himself, and they both woke up the morning after to the sun’ touching them with only soft rays.

“I know what plagues you, as you know what plagues me,” Jaehaera tells him. “You held me when I cried for my kin and the past. You needed no explanation or clause to console me. I won’t ask it of you either,” she says. “‘It is enough reason to hold you, knowing you need to be held.”

Aegon gathers her in his arms, some will of strength returning to them. 

He can ask her to never leave his side. He can plead with her, that they have to make this home safe, to remain safe, the two of them. He can leave her with no choice but to agree, even if she is doubtful. He can — but he doesn’t think he has to. She knows, and he has reached a place where his belief in it, his own yes, is not laced with doubt.

Aegon closes his eyes, and lets himself weep until sleep overtakes him. Within his drowsiness, as his last tear falls, he can see his mother at the back of his mind, offering him a soft smile. The morning sun will wake him again, but there will be no scorching no more. His last light’s tight embrace assures it too.

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒏𝒐 𝒇𝒖𝒓𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅

I'm already deciding on part 3, so don't bother asking for it! do feel free to send in suggestions, characters for her to end up with, etc.

find part 1 here.

summary - after your breakup with steve, you change, no longer wanting to deal with your emotions. after months of your team not hearing from or seeing you, they decide to track you down.

warning - angst, death.

the gif and header I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

The Avengers were worried. Your friends and family were concerned. Hell, even your asshole of an ex was worried. It has been months since anyone had seen or heard from you, not since the day of the gathering. The house you and Steve used to live in was burnt to a crisp. Nothing was left. You had just disappeared. Steve ended up getting a couple of bruises and some broken bones that healed from your friends. They knew he was the reason for this.

You stood there, covered in blood and surrounded by dead bodies. You had been minding your own business, wanting to grab some food and return to your cabin, but these men. Oh, these men. Why did they have to think they were better than you? Why couldn’t they have minded their own business and left you alone? Was their entire species built on invading a woman’s life? Could they not just fuck off. You were so annoyed, looking around at the pathetic beings that lay bloody and lifeless. “Men.” You growl quietly before bending down to grab your bags full of food and return to where you call home. You guess this could be a time to think about everything you have done and that has happened. 

Sure, burning your house down was probably a bit over the top. But you wanted to get rid of the memory of Steve, and that was the only thing you could think of at the time. Some may call you childish or crazy for how you dealt with your emotions, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care anymore. You had spent years in a relationship with a man who was stuck in the past, who had thought you were only meant to cook, clean and bear his children. Steve didn’t really love you, he just wanted to use you, and it took him behaving like a child and throwing a tantrum for you to see he wasn’t meant for you.

It doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun. In the end, you did love him. He did have a piece of your heart. The woman inside of you was grieving and hurting. She begged you to forgive him, make him see you were meant for him. But you were stronger than her. You know that no man could ever treat you like that. You know he wasn’t right for you, and you were on a war path. You groaned as you walked up the stairs and onto your porch. Making your way into your house, you walk past everything and to the kitchen, where you place the bags down. “Hello, people who do not live here.” You hum, facing your old team members, who look shocked as you are covered in blood. 

“Y/n?” Nat steps forward, looking you up and down, trying to determine if the blood is yours. You nod, digging into the bag and pulling out your food. You reach over and grab a fork as you begin to dig in. 

“That’s my name.” You give a sarcastic smile, chewing on your food. Your eyes move over everyone before focusing on your ex. “What’s he doing here? I thought you were too busy finding someone else to put up with your shit? Ya know…” You jump up onto the counter, swinging your legs as you glare. “Someone who would make a better mother than I would.” You smile before stuffing more food into your mouth, humming at its taste. 

Tony tilts his head, making his way over to you, unafraid. “You’ve changed.” His eyes move over your face, and yours connect with him. He smiles. “I like it.” He pulls you into a hug, “I missed you, kid.” You smile, patting his back.

“Missed you too, dumbass.” He pulls back, and the rest of the Avengers make their way over to hug you, letting you know how much they’ve missed you and how worried they’ve been. “So… Whatcha doing here? I won’t ask how you found me because that’d be a stupid question.” 

“As we said, we were worried.” Nat tilts her head, “were you attacked?” You shrug, chewing your food more. “Y/n?”

“Sorta, I guess? I don’t know. Men don’t know how to mind their business.” Your focus moves to the container in your hand, barely noticing the looks they give each other. “Yes, I killed them, and it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not that big of a deal?! You murdered people! See, this is why I said what I said.” Steve growls, staring you down as he tries to make you uncomfortable. 

“What is it, asshole day?” You groan, tilting your head back as you feel a headache form. “Yes, Steven. I murdered people, and again, you’ve stated I wouldn’t be a good mother. How about you get over that?” You hum, shovelling more food into your mouth as you stare at him without emotion. You point your fork at him. “Have you ever stopped to think that maybe you're the problem? Maybe you're the one who wouldn’t make a good parent? I mean, let’s face it, you have issues. You can’t even keep anything good in your life, and when you do find something good, you try and destroy it because you are so self-absorbed.” You roll your eyes, ignoring how some team members chuckle as you tear the retired Captain a new one. “You think you're better than any of us? You’ve killed, too. You’ve done worse. So what if I did the world a favour and took out some pathetic men? What are you going to do? What is worse than you ripping my heart out like I meant nothing to you?” You place the food down, hop off the counter and approach him with a glare. 

And the dumbass decides to open his mouth. “Well, if you want my opinion–” 

“I don’t.” Your glare hardens, jaw clenching as you stop yourself from killing him, especially in front of your friends and family. “I have my own.” Everyone’s breath hitches when you step closer to the towering man. “Now, if you don’t mind. I don’t want trash in my house, so I suggest you find the door before I set you on fire.” You growl lowly, sending shivers up everyone’s spines before you turn and go into your bathroom, needing to get the blood of the useless off of you. 

Once you finish showering and changing into comfier clothes, you return and stop when you notice everyone bar one, still here. “Oh, you guys didn’t leave?” You look over and see Wanda preparing a feast in your kitchen while everyone else makes themselves at home around your cabin. You look around to make sure Steve isn’t hiding around a corner. “Huh, I guess trash does know how to take itself out.” Your head turns as you hear Tony laugh, nearly falling out of his seat.

“Oh, kid. You don’t know how much I missed you and your sarcasm.” He sips the very expensive whiskey that you may or may not have stolen from him. “Morgan’s missed you too, especially how you’d teach her your sarcastic ways.” You smile softly, accepting a glass from Natasha as she walks up to you. 

“I’ve missed her too. I’m sorry for not rushing over when she got hurt.” You take a sip, leaning into Natasha as she wraps an arm around you. 

Tony shrugs. “It’s not your fault. Don’t apologise. She had help plus. She isn’t even your kid. You shouldn’t have to apologise for not rushing to someone else’s kid.” He rubs his forehead, “It’s not your job to do that. Sure, when you are on the field. I get it because that’s our job.” Tony points at you. “Don’t let Captain tightass get to you. You’d be a wonderful mother.” 

You smile, “Thanks, Tony. Always one for wise words.” You smile when Wanda comes around and kisses your cheek softly, mentioning that dinner’s ready. You all head over to the table and sit down, feeling a pair of eyes on you. You turn and notice Bucky staring at you with a soft smile. “What’s up, Buck?” 

He shakes his head, “nothing. I just want you to know that I tried talking some sense into him, and when he didn’t listen and we found out the truth of your disappearance, we kicked his ass.” You giggle, shaking your head at the image. Bucky flashes a proud smile at making you laugh. He’s happy you’re smiling and loves his best friend, but Steve didn’t deserve someone like you. You deserved the world, and he knew the rest of the team was thinking it.

“Thank you, you guys didn’t have to do that. I know you’ve known him longer than you’ve known me, but I appreciate the love you’ve shown me.” You thank them, feeling loved even though deep down you feel broken. Once dinner was over, they said their goodbyes and left, promising that they’ll come and see you again. You were left alone once again. Left in your thoughts as the broken woman inside you pounded against your heart, she wanted out. She wanted to cry and grieve the relationship you once had. But anger was better than tears, better than grief, better than guilt. You walked into your bathroom and stared at yourself in the mirror. The person staring back at you wasn’t who Steve had left. She was different. “How could you have been so stupid?” You spoke to her, watching her mouth move like yours did. “Why did you fall for him?! Why did you give your heart over?!” You screamed, your fist flying forward and shattering the glass. 

You were better off alone. Maybe one day you could open your heart again, and maybe one day you’ll find the person right for you. But right now, you needed to find yourself, find the woman you were without him. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

part 3

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Silver - Apprentice Chef Vignette

"Master Chef"

[Kitchen]

Master Chef ― Silver Version ～Let's Make Beef Stew 1～

Silver: Beef stew… A dish needing to be boiled in a pot, of all things. I'm hoping I don't mess this up.

Ghost Chef: "Of all things"? Is there something worrying you?

Silver: Well…I actually have a bad habit where I find myself abruptly falling asleep.

Silver: Waiting for food to cook is no exception… I've fallen asleep while cooking before, leading to many failed dishes.

Ghost Chef: I had briefly glanced at what you wrote in your reasons for taking this class, but I see you were telling the truth about falling asleep easily.

Riddle: It's rather dangerous to fall asleep while cooking. Has it ever resulted in a fire?

Silver: In Briar Valley, we generally prepare our food using magic. This means that even our flames for cooking are produced via our own magical abilities.

Silver: If I were to fall asleep, my magic would also be cut off and the fire would disappear, so even I haven't had to deal with a fire hazard as such.

Ghost Chef: Hahaha. So it was like you had a built-in automatic shut-off function.

Silver: As it was, back when I couldn't use magic, my father would light the flames for me.

Silver: This meant that even when I dozed off, my father would tend to the fire and he'd adjust… I mean, finish up the dish.

Silver: However, as a child I hadn't realized just how much my father had been trying to keep me from danger.

Silver: That's why I had believed that there would be no issues if I attempted to cook by myself…

Silver: One time, while my father was away, I attempted to cook over a wood fire.

Silver: The morning had been particularly cold that day… So I thought I would make a pot-au-feu for my father.

Silver: I was able to chop the ingredients, throw them in a pot, and season everything with no issues…

Silver: But perhaps that is where I let down my guard. I dozed off while the pot was still on the flame.

Riddle: Ah, but that was quite dangerous! It wasn't fire borne from magic, yes?

Riddle: What happened next?

Silver: I somehow woke up before any fire hazard took place. However, by that point, all the water had boiled away…

Silver: So, I added water to the pot in haste, which only served to turn the whole soup black as the charred bits dissolved into the liquid.

Silver: The dish was a failure. The whole house smelled like char. Just as I was at my wit's end, my father returned home.

Riddle: …Did he scold you?

Silver: Not at all. He just laughed, relieved that I hadn't hurt myself.

Silver: He also said that failure was a stepping stone to improvement for next time.

Silver: Furthermore, he scooped up a bowl of that black and burnt pot-au-feu and ate it without any hesitation.

Silver: My father said that it had a distinctive flavor even as it was, but… There was no way it was anywhere near edible.

Riddle: …He seems to be a very kind father.

Silver: He is, I'm glad to have him.

Riddle: Did you ever have the opportunity to learn how to cook from him?

Silver: He is an adept swordsman and mage, but… When it comes to cooking, both the ingredients he would use and the way he would cook constantly changed on a whim.

Silver: And he could never season anything the same way twice… In short, I never found my father's cooking style to be worth referencing.

Silver: That is why I consider myself self-taught. That being said, I always considered a dish good enough if it was edible.

Silver: All I can really do is chop up meat and vegetables and toss them in salt and pepper, or sometimes take leftovers to make risotto.

Riddle: It is fine enough that you are self-taught. I myself have never prepared anything by my lonesome.

Ghost Chef: Okay now, you two! Get to work, don't just chatter away!

Silver: Ah, right, my apologies… I should chop up the vegetables first.

Silver: I'll peel the carrots.

[peels carrots]

Ghost Chef: Oho～ You've got skills.

Silver: Blades are somewhat of a specialty of mine.

Silver: Next are the onions.

[peels onions]

Riddle: Silver, I am in need of an onion as well. Will you teach me how to peel them?

Ghost Chef/Silver: …?

Riddle: Wh-Why are both of you staring at me strangely!? Was my question that bizarre…?

Silver: It can be peeled by hand.

Riddle: I was not asking for the method of peeling, exactly… Rather, I can't seem to grasp where the peel ends specifically.

Silver: Oh, that's what you meant. The peel is the thin, brown layer on top. The white part is what's edible.

Ghost Chef: If there are any areas that seem to be discolored brown, you can just cut it out.

Riddle: I should cut out the discolored spots…? It's a little disconcerting to create random divots like that.

Ghost Chef: Hmm, Riddle-kun, you're very thorough!

Silver: Don't worry too much. At worst, even if some of the peel were to remain, it would just stick to the inside of your mouth. It is still edible.

Ghost Chef: And on the other hand, Silver-kun, you're much too loose-minded!

Silver: Alright, I've finished chopping up the vegetables and meat. Now, we melt butter in a hot pan…

Silver: And brown the meat.

[sizzle]

Silver: It's almost time to add the vegetables. …Ordinarily, I would just salt and pepper it here and consider it done.

Ghost Chef: That would be a fine dish if it were with a regular sirloin steak. However, shank and tendon taste much better stewed～

Silver: So different cuts of meat are cooked differently, I see. I'd never really thought about that before.

Silver: …Chef, the onions are starting to become translucent, are they sauteed enough?

Ghost Chef: Oh yes, it looks good! Now add water and bring it to a boil.

Silver: It seems we've finally come to the dreaded moment of boiling the stew. I worry I may nod off…

Ghost Chef: Hehehe… Have I got just the thing for you to keep your mind off your worries.

Silver: What is it?

[Kitchen]

Master Chef ― Silver Version ～Let's Make Beef Stew 2～

Ghost Chef: Let me introduce you to this… Ta-da! An electric pressure cooker!

Silver: An electric pressure cooker…?

Silver: I think I get it. If I use a pressure cooker, that would decrease the amount of time the stew needs to boil.

Silver: Plus, since it's electric, there's a timer function. Even if I were to fall asleep, the ingredients shouldn't char.

Ghost Chef: Yeah… That's basically it. You got it in one before I could even explain it.

Silver: This will be my first time using an electronic appliance to cook.

Riddle: Huh, your first time!? I have limited experience with cooking, and even I have used an electronic appliance like a microwave.

Silver: Of course I know of their existence, at the very least…

Silver: But I hadn't had the chance to use one since I enrolled here because I would just dine in the cafeteria.

Silver: In Briar Valley, most of the homes don't have electricity, let alone appliances like microwaves.

Riddle: Truly, it is a prerequisite to be able to use magic there, I see… It's a life I could not even begin to fathom.

Riddle: Although, I do believe that my magic would improve greatly if I were to live there.

Silver: With your magical prowess and competence, I'm sure you would have no issues living there.

Ghost Chef: Alright, Silver-kun. Throw all the ingredients into the electric pressure cooker.

Ghost Chef: Select the button on the menu panel that says "Beef Stew" and then press start!

[click]

Silver: It says… 20 minutes remaining.

Ghost Chef: Now you're all set. We just need to wait for it to cook.

Silver: Do we not have to keep watch over the pot? Will it need to be stirred midway through?

Ghost Chef: Don't worry, it'll come out fine. In fact, it'll be more prone to failure if we keep poking at it.

Ghost Chef: Leave the pressure cooker be for now, and instead, let's start on the demi-glace sauce!

Silver: It didn't take as long as I expected to make the sauce. I guess I should wash the dirtied pot and knife.

Silver: …I need to… wash the pot…

Ghost Chef: Oh! Hey, hey, Silver-kun!

Silver: Ah! That was close, I almost fell asleep. I can't let my guard down for even a moment.

Silver: I have no earthly idea why.

Ghost Chef: Well, since you stole my thunder a bit earlier, let me try to show you how the electric pressure cooker can be used.

Silver: Yes, please.

Ghost Chef: A handy pressure cooker is capable of crating any number of dishes, but it doesn't mean you have to follow a recipe to the letter.

Ghost Chef: If you swap out ingredients or seasonings, you can make a dish that is more aligned with your personal tastes.

Ghost Chef: For example, you know the ingredients we're using for today's stew?

Ghost Chef: If you chose to substitute tomato juice for the demi-glace sauce, you could make a tomato stew instead.

Silver: …My father loves tomato juice.

Silver: If I substituted tomato juice for the sauce… Maybe my father would gladly eat it up.

～～♪

Silver: What's that noise…? Oh, it's done cooking.

Ghost Chef: Go ahead and open up the lid to the pressure cooker. Take care not to burn yourself when you do.

Silver: Yes, sir.

[opens pot]

Silver: Wow…

Silver: Both the vegetables and meat are cooked to perfection. I would have never guessed that they'd get this tender in only 20 minutes.

Ghost Chef: Yes, yes, and now it's time for the finishing touches.

Silver: Now we add the demi-glace and a tad bit of ketchup to taste. That should be about good.

Silver: Mm, delicious!

Silver: Next, plate it and add boiled broccoli for garnish.

Silver: …Good, it's finished.

Ghost Chef: Not bad! Take the plate and head on out to the judging venue.

Silver: Right. No matter how difficult the judge may be, I'll definitely emerge the victor…!

Ghost Chef: Wait, hold on, you're not going into battle.

[Cafeteria – Judging Venue]

???: Ah, so you're my chef today, Silver.

Silver: Jamil. I've heard from Kalim that you're very proficient at cooking.

Silver: Within the school body, you're probably the most competent at cooking… Urk, am I even a viable opponent for someone like you?

Jamil: What kind of fight are you even trying to gear up for right now? Well, whatever. I'll dig in now.

[chomp]

Jamil: Hmm… It tastes okay.

Silver: Just okay, hm…

Jamil: However…

Jamil: I'll give you that the ingredients are cooked through pretty well. The meat is so tender it falls apart in my mouth almost instantly.

Jamil: This must have taken you some time, didn’t it? I would have thought you'd be in danger of falling asleep midway through…

Silver: Yeah, I was also worried about that. In fact, while I was waiting for it to stew, I could feel myself getting drowsy.

Silver: The reason this dish was a success was all thanks to the Chef allowing me to use a pressure cooker.

Silver: Since it only stewed for a short while, I was able to push through without drowsing off.

Jamil: That's surprising. I thought the Master Chef program was designed with a focus on improving your cooking abilities…

Jamil: But it seems they provide assistive tools for those who may be lacking in techniques or aptitude.  Good to know.

Silver: That's right, they gave me a good way to compensate for my lack of experience.

Silver: Even if I were to fall asleep, I can simply set a timer and the dish won't burn.

Silver: Also, when the timer goes off, it makes a noise, so it would wake me up… Or at least, it should.

Jamil: How did it ever come to your mind to use a pressure cooker as an alarm clock in the first place…?

Silver: I shouldn't constantly rely on outside tools… But I think it's something that I currently have a need for.

Jamil: Thank you for the food.

Jamil: I'm not sure how much of this can be said was of your own skills, but I'll say it was edible.

Silver: Well, it wasn't a flawless victory, but I suppose at least it wasn't an abject failure… I'll continue to work at it.

Ghost Chef: Well done! Looks like you made it through to the end without falling asleep.

Silver: Ah… That reminds me.

Silver: I started to think of how I'd like to make for my father the tomato stew and cabbage rolls that you mentioned…

Silver: Perhaps it's because that was on my mind that I was able to keep the drowsiness at bay.

Ghost Chef: That's because we can't help but try to put forth our best effort whenever we imagine how happy people would look eating our food.

Silver: I see… I guess your state of mind is rather important when it comes to cooking.

Requested by Anonymous.

[nanamis-bigtie]

sandwich served hot

↬ kusakabe & nanami x afab!reader | lucid love ↬ lucid love masterlist // jjk masterlist // ao3 version

cw: smut, reader has a vagina (no excessive body descriptions), open relationship, workplace situationship, threesome, alcohol consumption, oral sex, rimming, piv sex, anal sex, double penetration, reader has pubes, reader is a bottom, everyone involved is bi because i said so ❤ summary: with over ten years of married experience, you thought your experiments with open relationship aren't needed anymore for maintaining your meticulously built balance. but one night a hot coworker sneaks himself in between your gears word count: 2.4k a/n: ahem, i might have gotten a little overboard with this one but who can blame me, given my favorite dilfs are in game~ tag list: @thesacredfanfics

Your over ten years long marriage with Atsuya could only be described as a winning streak. Successful business you've been running together for almost as long as you've worn your rings, comfortable and modern apartment with enough space for you both and your hobbies, wide acquaintanceship and circle of friends, supporting families, trips abroad every year, and no crumb of complications as far as your eyes could reach. It required some sacrifices at the beginning, but your hard work has paid off. You're like inextricable puzzles, soulmates, perfect halves of one heart, so welded that you're sharing everything and even more—from your goals and ideals, through your kinks and fantasies, to the flings you've picked up along the way.

The core of your relationship is its flexibility. Leading busy lives and often apart for weeks, you had decided to open it long before you decided to tie the knot. Both of you had your hesitations but the experience only proved your idea right. It filled the cracks and pulled you together where the ties seemed to loosen, your love only grew stronger and lust for each other bloomed like crazy. Neither of your side quests remained solo for long, your lovers of all genders eventually found their way to your shared bedroom and stayed, some for one night only, some for years. 

No one stayed forever, though. Maybe the fire of love between you two was too strong and burnt anyone who tried to approach. Maybe in the end you weren't as open as you thought, unintentionally pushing your other lovers aside. Maybe you just never loved either of them and your shared relationships were filled only with lust. Eventually, even if neither of you declared your union closed again, you stopped looking and opening the doors for guests. There were only the two of you again, loving each other as strong as ever, and happy in your tight embrace.

Well, until Kento Nanami happened and slipped between the cracks you didn't bother to cover on the way.

He's your accountant, the best your company has had thus far. He's smart and handsome, professional to a fault and maybe a little too stiff and formal—or so you thought before you learnt it's a meticulously built mask, protecting a little awkward and shy self. And he's one hundred percent in your type, for both you and Atsuya, driving you crazy at any given opportunity, even if most likely unawares.

That’s what you thought, until he finally accepted the invitation to join you and a few of your other employees for an official trip. Closeness has scraped the guise off, liquor has loosened scruples, and on your free day, the last night before you return, Kento is all over you in your shared bedroom, eagerly sucking your tongue as Atsuya locks the door behind your backs.

You're not drunk, just a little tipsy, the tangy aftertaste of wine barely palpable between heated kisses. It's a nice balance between oblivion and controlled madness, a perfect state to shed your clothes and succumb to what your bodies have been craving for weeks, if not months. Kento's arms wrap around you just right , a bit protective, a bit possessive, almost as strong as Atsuya's and no less ravenous. His lips are still a little clumsy, still seeking and discovering, but attentive, and by the time he finally herds you to the bed, he's already stealing your breath properly—not like a fling but a lover with history.

As soon as you sit on the edge of the mattress, Kento kneels between your legs, leaving you no doubt he's interested the most in quite different kisses. Leaning back, you let him peel your pants and undergarments out of the way. He presses his open, hungry mouth to your calves and thighs, leaving a wet trail leading straight to the simmering heat between them. He's worked hard for it with his lips and tongue, with his hands groping your sensitive spots just as Atsuya guided him, and doesn't intend to let it die too soon. He wastes only as little time as needed to take a look at your wide-spread cunt and slide his glasses off before he dives for it, deep and voraciously, so contrastive to his usually collected demeanor.

Meanwhile, Atsuya joins you on the bed, sneaks behind your back and guides you to lean against him. He helps you peel off your top of what Kento missed on his way and peppers your neck with kisses and loving nibbles. Your eyes half closed in pleasure, you can't see his expression, but you know he watches intently , he always does, the only pleasure greater for him than eating you out himself.

One hand groping and playing with your nipples, he guides you to sink fingers into Kento's soft locks. You follow without demur, your other hand reaching to thread through your husband's hair, encouraging them both to let the brakes go. Kento groans into your cunt, tongue lapping your juices and teasing your clit, as if asking for permission to suck it, while impatiently rubbing his whole face against your folds.

"Look at him, so eager." Atsuya chuckles under your ear, then latches on the well-known spot to suck a hickey. It's harsh, a bit too rough even, deliciously contrasting with still uncertain attention given to your pussy.

Your moans encourage him though, and soon the man between your legs is not as docile. He forces your legs more open, resting them against his broad shoulders, and sucks as if his life depended on it. His face is engulfed by your sex and pubes, eyes half closed in pleasure, yet relentlessly looking for contact with yours.

You grant it to him as your hands give more attention to your husband. You feel and paw his length through his pants, pulsing and begging for your touch. You're not freeing him yet, enjoying its rapid growth despite the tight confinement and Atsuya's guttural groans slipping between one and the other hickey. There's frustration in his pleasure, you pick its gentle timbre with ease—and you know it's not the lack of your attention that's at fault.

You nudge Kento's back with your foot, forcing him to pull away. His face is almost scarlet red, smeared with your juices; he looks at you puzzled and displeased for being torn away from his treat so abruptly.

"A little position change," you motion him to climb the mattress as well.

Three pairs of hands strip him of clothes, both you and Atsuya stare shamelessly at his cock, fat and throbbing, leaking precum just from tasting your sex. You move towards the head of the bed, leaving more place for both men to fit their tall bodies snug. No word is exchanged but Kento learns fast; he lies on side, cheek against one of your open thighs, exposing his cock to your husband. He doesn't wait any longer though, back to his treat in no time, almost ignoring Atsuya until he's stripped too and fits between the two of you, lips soon wrapped around Kento's cock.

Kento groans but his lips don't lose momentum, just the soft rumble of his voice resonates with your body, having you mewl in pleasure too. You thread fingers through his hair again, the other hand lazily stroking your husband. His dick looks delicious in its throbbing, veiny glory, but you want the both of them to hear you and your pleasure without any restriction. You're not shying away from your voice, with little care for not so thick hotel room walls, appreciating both the work of Kento's tongue and the delicious views. You can't peel your eyes away from Atsuya, of his lips wrapped tight around Kento's cock, of his head bobbing steadily as he sucks him off, off drool dropping down his chin. You're itching to lean close and lick it clean, but you would only disturb the configuration, so you're patient and selfish instead, leaving all the work to your hand and letting the warmth radiating from your core to swallow you.

"Wanna have a taste?" It's Atsuya who ruins the status quo first, speaking to you with his lips still connected to cock with a thick string of saliva. You sit straight, for a moment forgetting about the other lover lost in sauce between your thighs, ignoring his displeased groan for the sake of your husband's tongue slipping into your mouth. It's bitter, you easily distinct a different flavor and suck it in until it's melting and mixing with drool shared between the two of you.

Kento doesn't intend to lose the fight for your attention, soon pressing flush against your side and nipping at your neck. He follows the trail of hickeys Atsuya left, his hands groping with great impatience and almost sadistic precision. Meticulous at work, meticulous in bed, he doesn't shy away even for a moment, until he's successfully stolen you from Atsuya's embrace straight into his.

You're pulled on top of him, your lips busy again as he's wrapping his arms tight around you in a moment of selfishness. Not the first lover who tries to dominate the field in the heat of the moment, the first stubborn enough to react to Atsuya's touch with a growl at first, before he thinks better of it and lets him do his job, even helps him to guide your hips higher.

"You want..." Kento's voice is low, husky, ragged with breath. He needs to take a break between every word, fighting against the urge to mewl as you stroke his cock, using the gap in his attack on your behalf. "You want both of us?"

"That's the goal here."

You're grateful for Kento's little possessive strike prompting him to hold you so hard. You don't have to fight against pleasure for the sake of your legs holding the right angle. He keeps it for you as Atsuya spits on your asshole, slowly pushing his drool in with a thumb before he leans close and replaces it with his thick and warm tongue. Kento was hasty and hungry, but it can't compare to the way your husband eats you out. He's as aggressive as adoring, licking and sucking your rim with the same eagerness and tenderness he's showing to your lips when making out with you. No wonder you're soon melting, the familiar knot in your core tightening just from the tongue lapping its way into your ass and Atsuya's thick fingers slowly stretching your pussy open.

Another hand joins him soon, Kento focuses on your clit and kisses your moans straight from your lips. He's good at reading the right rhythm, having no other guide than your sounds and Atsuya's limited moves. You've expected them to bump into each other more but they're cooperating better than with any other of your shared lovers before, and it pays off faster than any before too.

You usually need more than that to climb your high. But together, they don't just take you there; you're soaring on the wave of pleasure as if you were thrown in the air with great force. Even Kento's hold is not enough to keep you still, you spasm and melt, and collapse—all with a moan so loud you're sure half of the hotel has heard you.

"You're still with us?" Atsuya kisses your nape. You can feel him smiling through the milk-white haze that's overpowered you after intense orgasm.

"Barely." You're not exaggerating. When you try to lift yourself and regain lost angle, your thighs tremble and you're soon lying flat on top of your lover.

"Do you want to continue?"

"God, yes ."

"You're doing so well..." Kento mutters into your ear, stealing the praise that should be granted to him and his excellent job during his first threesome ever. You're almost scolding him for that, too, but your throat is hoarse after the scream and soon you have to push your reserves somewhere else as Atsuya's tongue returns to its task.

"Shit—" You sink your nails into Kento's chest, a bit too harshly, but you can't find words to apologize. He doesn't mind it, cradling you close through each of your spasms and further, when Atsuya has finally satisfied his appetite and filled you with his cock instead, so thick and filling you to the brim.

He's moving slowly, both of them are, as Kento follows suit and finds place for himself in your cunt. It's impossibly tight for all three of you, each fighting their own battle in this maze of pleasure and struggling to keep the reins of control. It's hard to keep the right rhythm in this hell of a knot of bodies and sensations, but both men work hard for them despite the pulling need to have you crushed and squeezed between them.

It's been a long while since you've been taken like that and even longer since you've had another cock as thick as your husband's—and you're paying a great price for your bravery. But for now, you're pushing the fading voice of your reason to the back of your head. You'll worry about consequences later, now there's only the union of three bodies and pleasure so intense you feel like you're getting blind just from the intensity of their thrusts.

Kento mutters sweet and dirty nothings into the crook of your neck, Atsuya bites at it from behind, his groans guttural and losing the humane timbre. Their voices mix and melt into one, their rhythms finally find a common ground and fill you up all at the same time. In no time, you're dragged into another orgasm, somehow even stronger, almost killing with the way it clenches your throat and turns your body into one big mass of spasms and trembling.

Atsuya taps Kento's shoulder, they both hold still until you're back to your senses, gently cradled by two pairs of arms, comforted by two different soft voices, from behind and front alike.

"Are you still with us?" Your husband breathes into your neck, the same question, asked earlier with a teasing tone to it, now as serious as it can in the sweat-drenched knot of your bodies.

You would want to know it yourself.

Both men gently pull out of you and place you by their sides, nestled comfy with pillows under your head. They make sure you have a good view—and soon you learn why, watching with eyes wide open, as their bodies move in unison again, their chests flush and Atsuya's hand wrapped tight around their leaking cocks.

"Enjoy the show," your husband smirks and thrusts harsher, dragging a lewd moan out of Kento. "You've worked hard for it."