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romanarose · 10 months

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Take It All

Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Summary: Miguel fucks your throat. That's it.

Warnings: Throat fucking, choking, BALLS, gagging choking on cock, a whole lot of talk of spit (I have OCD, do you see what I do you for you all?), a lil bit of spitting up/some stomach bile shit, some struggling to breath. Fluffy at the end.

Anyway, enjoy, whores.

***********

“Just like that, asi mami, take it further”

Miguel had you pinned against the wall, strong legs keeping your shoulders pressed into the plaster. He gave you orders on how to suck his dick despite being the one forcing it down your throat.

“Think you can take it all this time?”

You mumbled in affirmative, throat contracting around his cock as Miguel groaned. Pulling out just briefly, you take a deep breath and he quickly thrusts back inside you, your throat burning with the stretch of him as he slides down your wet, warm mouth. Fuck, he was so deep, you couldn’t help touch yourself.

“Needy little thing.” He teases you when he sees your touching. “Does it turn you on when I abuse your little throat?”

With a whine, you scramble to reach up and grab his hand. You want him to feel it, to feel himself in your throat. Miguel, however, pulled out, causing you to whine again.

“Babyyyyy I didn’t tap out! You promised!” Miquel loved how you sucked cock, but he got nervous when he was in control, not wanting to hurt you. You had made him promise to keep going until you tap out, or unless he really thinks you need him to pull out.

He looks guilty, but smiles softly as he wipes your face with his sleeve. “Thought you were trying to tell me to stop.”

Jacking him off still, you grin up at Miguel. “No, I finally took you all the way! I was trying to show you that you can feel your cock in my throat!” Excitement was clear as you explain. You never were able to get that far before, and despite the drool falling down your neck and onto your low cut tank top and the heavy dark mark up of your eyes beginning to run, he thought you looked absolutely adorable.

Miguel had an idea; scooping you up, he sloppily kissed you, licking into your mouth as he carried you over to the couch. Before setting you down, he bit into your lip with his fangs, making just a little bit of bloog flow out. Laying you down, Miquel adjusted you, manhandled your body like a little malleable doll until you were in the perfect position; head hanging off the arm of the couch. Before continuing, he knelt beside you, massive hard carefully caressing your face. “I’m gonna fuck your throat like your pussy, sweet thing. That okay?”

You smile up at him fondly, and nod. “Yes, sir.”

It wasn’t long until he had lined himself back up at your mouth, confirming you rememed to tap his thigh twice if it was too much, and began pressing into you again. He was so damn thick it stretched your mouth wide open, and you concentrated on relaxing your throat. When he made it all the way in and he saw you could still breath through your nose, Miguel reached out to finger you, but got distracted when his eyesight caught a view… the tip of his cock poking a bulge in your throat.

He went feral after that.

Pulling out and thrusting back in quickly, Miguel was obsessed with watching his cock protrude through you, so big he was filling you up. His eyesight only strayed to swatch your body writhe and jolt, he pulled down the tank top you were in to take out your tits, groping them painfully for his own pleasure, but it only turned you on me.

“Such a fucking whore, letting me use your mouth as my little fleshlight. You like that? You like when I don’t care about getting you off, just using you for my own pleasure?” He pulled out of you, glops of spit running down your face, messing up your make up as he jerked himself while dragging his balls to spread the make up and spit, blood and precum all over your skin. “SAY IT!”

“Yes! Yes sir I love when you- mmpphhh” Whatever you were about to say was muffled by his balls in your mouth, and you moan around them as you suck and listen to the aggressive ‘fap, fap, fap’ of his hand on his own cock.

“Touch yourself, bebita,” Miguel pants. “Cause I’m about to cum right into your stomach.”

You did as you were told, finger fucking yourself to the rhythem he set into your throat with one hand and clawing into his thighs with your nails.

“Just can’t get enough of you, baby, mmmm so fucking good for me, just laying there and taking it.”

A cough, a gag, a deep breath; you refused to tap out, not when he was so close, not when the balls that rested on your face were tightening and he spoke.

Miguel wrapped his hands around your throat, squeezing as he violently trust into you, using your throat to jerk himself off with your throat. Nail cutting into his tree trunk thighs, you cum on your fingers, throat tightening and releasing with every contraction, every pulsing pleasure inside your body.

“FUCK! Feel so goddamn good, almost wanna snap to this precious little neck in my hands, fuck, fuck, FUUUUCK!!

Stilling in your throat, Miguel bypassed his mouth, shooting his cum straight into your esophagus. As soon as he was done and saw how much you were struggling to breathe, he pulled out of you. Immediately, you turn over and cough, hacking up a lung as spit and cum falls out of your mouth. You gasp for air, struggling to get enough in to satisfy your lungs. The salty mixture inside you spit up into the floor along with a little stomach bile, falling onto his carpet. “Sorry” You breath.

Miguel kneels beside you, gently patting your back. “It’s okay sweetheart, just get it out”

You slow down, your airway cleared out and able to breathe again, and you collapse onto the couch exhausted. Multiple orgasms, several positions, your body sore and relaxed and messy and pleasured…

“Hey, carino, you alright?” Miguel asks, picking chunks of spit soaked hair out of your face.

He worries he hurt you, worries he took it too far, but is surprised to see you giggling.

“We have got to do that again.”

Miquel chuckles in return, kissing your disgusting forehead.

“Let’s give your throat a break for a few days, mi sol. I'm gonna draw us a bath.”

As you watch his bubble butt walk into the bathroom, he turns around. “Hey honey?” He says, body twisting a bit to reveal a cheeky smile.

“Yes, Miggy?”

“I’m proud of you, for taking all of me. I know it’s a lot.” He emphasized with wiggling eyebrows, and then proceeded to dodge the pillow you tossed in his direction, yelling some joke about ‘that’s not why it’s called a throw pillow!’

***************

I hope y'all enjoyed. is this a little like the throat fucking in Take Your Time? Yes. What about it.

Also, I think it's time smut acknowledge BALLS, whose with me?

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @whatthefishh @missdictatorme @eyelessfaces @littlenosoul @melodygatesauthor @ahookedheroespureheart @moonknightly

#miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara smut #smut #fem reader #fem!reader #miguel o'hara reader smut #miguel o'hara reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara reader #miguel ohara smut #oscar isaac #romana writes #miguel x reader #x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x reader #romana writes smut

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tau1tvec · 3 months

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Some tips for The Sims 3 Buy/Build

Install LazyDuchess’ Smooth Patch to alleviate lag, esp in Buy/Build and CAS.

Keep your CC merged and organized, esp your patterns, this will also alleviate a lotta lag across all modes.

When building on community lots, or any lot rlly, avoid going to the edit world menu, and just put testingcheats enabled into the cheat window, then shift+click the ground of the lot to enter Buy/Build mode. This makes leaving it to save a lot easier, with less “preparing” screens to possibly get hung up in.

Lower your settings, you don’t need any adjacent lots loaded, and you certainly don’t need super water on either. You can always switch these back on when you’re done.

While you’re at it, remove your HQ mod, and turn off your Reshade/Gshade preset, or at least turn off your depth shaders. I only ever turn on my depth shaders when I’m taking screenshots for better fps while playing. The DoF shader esp requires a lotta resources your game could be using to simulate all those 78 townie sims instead.

Save as… vs Save, I Save as… at least every third save. It’s also just good habit to keep backups.

When using the CASt tool, set down everything you plan to CASt first, then switch to a category like the wall tool to avoid eventual lag and drag when using it a lot. Love yourself. You don’t have to suffer using CASt tool in an overpopulated category like misc deco.

Utilize the clone option through testing cheats to duplicate already CASted objects, it’ll keep your design just like the dropper tool, but it’s a lot less time consuming, I promise.

Don’t be afraid to use the swatch save tool for objects you use often, esp community lot objects, as it helps to keep your aesthetic consistent. I also keep all of my favorite streetlamps, benches, and public trash bins etc in a convenient custom collection folder to speed up the process of doing multiple lots in one sitting. These handy tools are there, use them.

The issue with custom counters. They mess up sometimes, if you can’t recolor it suddenly, here’s how to fix that. Now if you can’t place down a cupboard suddenly, even though nothing’s in the way, and you’ve got moveobjects on activated, try putting it on the wall a tile over, and then try adding it to your desired spot again. Lastly if you set down counters or cupboards at a corner, and it messes up the textures, but you can still recolor it, you could do what the video I linked above does, or you could simply pull out the CASt tool, and switch it back to any of its original swatches and click the check, then feel free to recolor it as you want.

Railings will also do the “can’t recolor” trick too, but this is a simple fix, just delete it, and replace it, and you’re good.

“Oh no, I switched between buy and build mode, and now my catalogue won’t load, and I can’t click on anything at all!” Don’t panic, hit F2 and/or F3 on your keyboard, these are shortcuts for switching between them, and if you’re lucky it’ll load properly again. Should you get the bug where you load a category and it’s somehow empty, don’t fret, just click on a different category and this should fix it. Then if you get the bug where all the objects you put down disappear suddenly, sorry your game is haunted. Call an exorcist, or just reload, they might reappear if you do.

Tbh, if you run into any kind of major bugs, it’s likely a sign to either save immediately or just restart your game. These only ever show up when you’ve been at it a while ( at least for me ), therefore starting fresh wouldn’t hurt. Probably also wouldn’t hurt to check whether you might’ve installed something the game didn’t agree with by running Dashboard, or put it through the ol’ Save Cleaner.

Honorable Mention: Keep an eye on the texture sizes and poly counts of objects. I know it’s tempting to build these ultra hyperrealistic lots with clutter at every inch, but unless you’re just doing it for screenshots, or for your story, or using it very sparingly, it is not by any means recommended purely for gameplay. This is just the truth when it comes to any Sims game. You don’t want lag, or max memory crashes, or save errors? The Sims 3 is a 32bit game, that’s almost old enough to drive, be easy on it.

#the sims 3 #ts3 #tips and tricks

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tinkerbelle05 · 8 months

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Jaime being the best boyfriend headcanons

Characters: Jaime Reyes x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Jaime being an absolute gentleman.

Warning: none :)

Jaime is always opening the door for you. No matter where or when, he’s walking in front to open the door. He also pulls out any chair that you are gonna sit in.

He does that thing where he “guides” with his hand on your lower back or waist while y’all are walking. He walks on the side of the street where the cars are driving, in case something were to happen.

When it’s colder than what you expected, Jaime puts his coat or jacket over you without you having to ask. All you have to do is rub your hands together for warmth or shiver slightly.

He lets you to pull him in every and all directions by holding his hand. And when your using the escalator or the stairs, in a light color skirt or shorts, he stands behind you.

While shopping for make up, he lets you use his hand for swatch testing when you run out of space on both hands.

He’s always wearing an hair tie on his wrist in case yours get lost or pops. It’s happened too many times and Jaime’s always there to save the day.

You don’t gotta pay for shit either. I mean, you offer to pay but Jaime shuts you down every time.

“Nah, I got it. Put your wallet away,” he tells you.

He’s handing the waiter his card before you can even react.

He buys you flowers every Sunday afternoon. Sometimes they are delivered because he couldn’t make it but he prefers to hand them to you.

You’ve gotten use to them but you still have that bright smile on your face when you seem them.

Tags: @marmar-c, @wintersdeadd, @fhhahaha12, @allthingsvicf, @niluuuuu, @starii-light, @louiesdaydream, @herrescaper, @scryarchives, @666kpopfan, @sodacatz, @bluecray0nn, @strawberrycreamb, @conicoroahre, @losingmywayyyy, @nightwingandhissquad, @asvterias, @shslsimpette, @alexa-33, @dcnerd98, @xiaryye

Taglist & Masterlist & Reqs Info & Writing List

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tvlandofficiall · 7 months

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what do you think anout the theory that spamton saw the real world and not the light world?

i think, whether or not spamton saw our world as well, it's pretty explicit, narratively tight, thematic, AND important that the blinding light spamton saw was indeed the light world!

i do think there are cases wherein darkners are juggling both at once, and i think you could easily apply that to spamton too. when writing, for example, i use the theory that spamton and jevil were initially meant to be player guides like ralsei, who appears aware of both higher realities in the game itself as well as in my interpretation of him.

(for posterity's sake, queen mentions pressing buttons a couple of times too, but that's because of a running gag with the controls of the car and robots she and kris pilot, not because she's overtly meta aware.)

but i think it's important to remember just how the light world slots into spamton's deal, both thematically and mechanically. on the mechanical end, we have the way he saw it at all; the shadow crystals. we get to see how they look from the dark world for ourselves, and this isn't just for show. we're getting to see what spamton saw, too.

to us, it may look ordinary. but to the darkners, that world is a blinding light. the light world is a terrifying place with an incredible power (which i'll touch on in just a moment as well), a place where the darkners are literally objects. seeing their worldstate literalized like that is mindbending – not only are they darkners made to serve a higher reality, they exist as nothing but objects to ordinary people in that reality. and objects aren't granted any autonomy, no matter how autonomous they might imagine themselves to be. they're not just computer (darkner type), they're Literally a computer being used by a person the same way spamton might drive a car or swatch might organize the plates in their cafe. seeing that is not only eldritch, but it's also got an element of realizing just how binding fate is baked in there too. it's seeing the strings of fate in their most distilled state. seeing the click of a mouse that guides swatch to bring the neo body into reality. seeing the searches typed directly onto queen's keys. seeing the bright, clear line that delineates all of it.

i've touched on how spamton parses this (because he's a grindset guy at heart, someone who doesn't necessarily question the system) in some other posts, which you can check out here and here and here.

but this brings us into the thematic element. deltarune uses religious imagery quite often, especially in reference to higher realities, and we can see that and the aforementioned strings of fate coming into play with neo. neo is something i talk about a lot in my swatchton meta because i feel it is crucial to understanding who spamton is as a character.

and the neo body is a vector of god – literally.

(see also; the dialogue of seam discussing the shadow crystal from earlier.)

and this is why spamton describes it the way he does, why he wants it so badly. it's powerful – made by a lightner. (he wants a perfect body he wants a perfect soul, you know the song.) the lightners have the power to determine the fate of the darkners, and so too does neo have an incredible power itself. could it grant spamton the power to determine his own fate?

well, not quite. it's still a part of this world, after all – there's no escaping the strings. no one can choose who they are in this world, and trying to game the system still leaves you smack dab in the middle of it.

there's a common thought that, because of the wall in spamton's shop, spamton must've seen the light of the sun. i think, if he did see both worlds, it's possible! but it seems more likely that either he didn't see the sun at all and was burned by the light that is the light world; the weird layout of the light world wasn't considered while making this choice (because there are so many rooms with impossible windows in the light world, particularly the school); and/or, more likely and most thematically,

he saw a beautiful blue sky more like this one. after all, the library might not have windows, but it does have windows.

#ooc #spamton #deltarune #this is something i've seen come up a bit so i'm glad i can have a chance to give my two cents #spamton is a character i think about a lot so im always glad to talk about him. he's a huge thematic center in this game

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cityof2morrow · 3 months

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JSB Grocery 002: (Functional Jacky93Sims Add-Ons)

Published: 1-13-2024 | Updated: N/A SUMMARY This is a vending machine and functional seafood products to go with the JSB Grocery 001 set (Simmons, 2023). The machine itself vends groceries while shop owners can place sale items in the open interior – sell more items while using less space! Additionally, there are several seafood products which can be sold in OFB shops and used to stock fridges for food points. Some objects require shifting and/or placement cheats for ideal positioning. See below for details.

DETAILS Requires all EPs/SPs. §60-500 | Buy > Appliances > Large Appliances (Community Lot Only) The JSB Grocery 001 set (Simmons, 2023) and Object Freedom 1.02 (Fway, 2023) are BOTH required. Items with “MESH” in their filename are REQUIRED for textures/recolors to display correctly in-game. Since some items are cloned from shelves, you may need to shift items up once for them to place properly. See below for more details and a download link.

Two items in one -purchase groceries by clicking on the machine itself. On OFB lots, place sale items (like the seafood products) on the vending machine shelf, then place the shelf behind the glass (you’ll need “move objects ON” and “snap objects to grid OFF” cheats). Let sims know what you’re selling by applying one of 21 swatches to the machine buttons. When it runs out of stock, the buttons will glow red.

ITEMS Vending Machine – (252 poly) – functions like the default grocery bin, use with shelving Vending Machine Shelf (196 poly) – place w/ “move objects” and “grid on/off” cheats Lobster (Small/Medium/Large) (530 poly) Lobster Package (974 poly) Fish Package #1 (679 poly) Fish Package #2 (861 poly) Fish Package #3 (689 poly) Fish Package #4 (798 poly) Fish Package #5 (730 poly) Fish Package #6 (796 poly) DOWNLOAD (choose one) MESHES from SFS | from MEGA RECOLORS from SFS | from MEGA *A known game bug may disable some OFB shelf slots. Not all players experience this bug in the same way, but if you do – there is a long-standing fix for it. If you cannot access more than 2 slots on shelves, download ONE of these fixes: MORE_Custom-objects-placeable-on-shelves (Numenor, 2006) MORE_Custom-objects-placeable-on-shelves+LOCKEDTILES (Numenor, 2006) Object Freedom 1.02 (Fway, 2023)

*Seafood is part of THIS set. The aquarium display is part of JSB Grocery 001 set (scroll back up for the link). CREDITS Thanks: Stockable Food Math (@curiousb), @chocolatecitysim, @kashmiresims, @jacky93sims, Waterpixels, Severinka_, BodegBaby. Sources: Any Color You Like (CuriousB, 2010), BBNiche1Master (BuggyBooz, 2012), Beyno (Korn via BBFonts), Cubic Dynamics (EA/Maxis), Dessert Deco Set (PForest, 2021), EA/Maxis, FFP in SimPE (@creesims, 2019), Great Groceries Display (Balkopat, 2020), Grocery Store Part 1 (Jacky93sims, 2023; Severinka, 2022; Bodegababy, 2021), Kitchen Basic (Hafiseazale, 2016; BuggyBooz 2008), Kitchen Basic Extras (Hafiseazale, 2016; BuggyBooz, 2010), Offuturistic Infographic (Freepik), Other Imagery (EA/Maxis; Hyde, 2000-2013 via LightningCoyote), Steak Package (Patrakeevasveta, 2020/2021 via Creative Commons Attribution), Vending Machine (Robotic Earth, 2023 via Creative Commons Attribution), “How do I change object ‘weight’ for surfaces?” (Simmer22 via modthesims.com, 2017), Make Food Clutter Useable – A Tutorial (@deedee-sims, 2019), Mini-Tutorial: Batch-fix Custom Objects to make them *placeable on OFB shelves* (Numenor, 2006), SimPE Resources (@gayars, 2022), Stockable Foods (CuriousB, 2023), Offuturistic Infographic (Freepik), “What restricts which object can go into which slots?” (Jonasn, 2023), Vegemite Jar (WR/HChangeri).

#ts2downloads #ts2cc #sims2cc #co2foods

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threadbaresweater · 9 months

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Nanami x you. NSFW. 18+ only please.

He's beautiful like this, you think– laying flat against the bed where the sheets are disheveled, the pillows pushed aside; his hair is damp, plastered in swatches against his forehead, and there's a sheen of sweat on his sun-kissed skin that you lean to drag your tongue through, savoring the taste of him with a soft, appreciative moan.

No one gets to see him this way. Blissed out, thoroughly fucked, buried inside you while his broad hands are settled on your hips. No one else sees the lust that settles in his gaze when he smiles at you, languid and lazy and full of such adoration it makes your stomach tighten and your head buzz. These moments are for you and Nanami alone, when the rest of the world keeps moving outside your door. Time doesn't exist here. The only thing that matters is that you're together, that he knows how much you love him, that you're able to share this with Nanami alone. You are his, and he is yours. All is well in your soul.

He lifts one of those hands to cup your cheek, and you bend to him, pressing your lips to his– featherlight, fleeting– and when he licks into your mouth, you push a little harder, threading your fingers through his hair. Nanami gasps and winds his arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, then rolls to the side.

Morning sunlight slants in through the window and casts its rays across your room, a sure sign that Nanami should have left for work at least an hour ago. "I'm late, you know," he murmurs against your lips without urgency. Between your legs, his cock slips out and you whimper at the way your body jolts, the loss of warmth a bit jarring. He kicks a leg over yours and pulls you as close to him as he can, breathing against the skin of your jawline, your neck, your ear.

You grin against his shoulder and curl yourself into his chest. "Could've said no," you tease. As if he had it in him to deny you. As if he didn't wake up with his dick pressed against your ass, fingers dancing along your abdomen while he yawned against the back of your neck.

He replies with a grunt, squeezing the fat of your thigh. "And miss this? Not a chance."

You lie there for a little while longer, basking in the afterglow, listening to the steady thrum of his heart. He smooths his hand down the curve of your spine, across your shoulders, lips pressed to your forehead. And when he does finally rise, you watch him stretch as you lie swaddled in the sheets. Arms above his head, shoulders flexing, corded muscle moving in such a way that your head spins with desire all over again. He's beautiful like this. When he's relaxed. Sated. Naked and vulnerable. His sharp edges softened, his defenses down.

He steps away toward the bathroom, and soon you hear water running, the slide of the shower door; the steam billows to the ceiling, and you smell his shampoo. He'll be the Nanami that his colleagues see– the one whose confident, straight-laced demeanor is known and respected in his profession. He'll comb his hair and brush his teeth; he'll share a cup of coffee and a bite of breakfast with you, and you'll needlessly straighten his tie after he slips his shoes on at the door.

To know Nanami Kento is to love him, and you know him better than anyone– perhaps even himself.

#nanami kento x you #nanami kento x reader

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yae-energy · 10 months

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get in bitch, we’re going shopping

synopsis: my take on what it’s like going to the mall with saiki and friends

cast: kusuo saiki, shun kaidou, aren kuboyasu x shopaholic black fem reader (all platonic)

cw: theft (kuboyasu’s part) , cursing

a/n: this won the poll so come get y’all snacks ! this was also mega fun to write omg 😭😭😭

—

saiki - doesn’t even wanna be there

- bro just wants to stay home ong 😭

- def keeps that germanium ring on him cause he is not trynna hear everybody’s nasty ass thoughts

- sticks close to you if you’re in a group cause you’re the only one who isn’t stressing him out

- also cause you tend to wander off when looking at display windows

- has to keep you from going into every store y’all come across but man is that an exhausting job

- like he don’t wanna be there all damn day

- but having to stop you from getting pouty cause they didn’t have the sneakers you want is worse

- will literally use his clairvoyance to find the shoes in another store and then swap it with a different pair of the same value so you can shut the hell up 😭 (love a supportive king !!)

“they dont have the shoes?? i literally waited all damn day for those and they don’t even- …. huh? since when did these get here?”

“must be magic, now let’s get the hell outta here PLEASE”

- food court enthusiast !!!

- without a doubt his favorite place in the mall

- buys you both lunch

- also buys you a key chain as a gift cause he saw you eyeing it in one of the windows, and puts it in one of your bags so you’ll see it when you get home

- will not tell you he bought it

- you rambling to him on the way to school the next day about how you must’ve gotten it by mistake is a reward in itself

—

kaidou - shopaholic bestie

- just like you, kaido loves a good shopping spree !!!

- he’s gotta deck himself out so dark reunion knows who they messing with !!!

- they don’t call him the jet black wings for nothing 😤

- gives surprisingly good fashion advice

“this color brings out your skin tone you should get this”

“these shoes match that hat you should get these”

“gold accessories fit your skin perfectly”

- loves when you give him a fashion show if you’re trying on clothes

- will literally make you runway walk 💀

- hot topic king !!!!

- prob their biggest buyer tbh

- gets those corny graphic tees and you have to BEG him to not wear them in public

- like he genuinely thinks they’re cool and you’re like

“😬…lets not”

- goes straight to the bookstore to see if they have any new manga

- will be there for hours if you don’t pull him out

- like he dead read a whole book once while you were out looking for bags

- you bought it for him as a treat cause he carried all your bags for you

—

kuboyasu - a thief in the night

- im sorry y’all but this man def steals (same tho/hj)

- and doesn’t give a fuck either

- but most of the time it’s not even on purpose fr

- like he’ll pick up something and be like

“damn this shit cool ash”

- then will forget he has it in his hand and walk out with it 😭

- is banned from 3 of your favorite stores for doing this so he just stands outside like a club bouncer and waits for you

- best believe if someone tries to get at you he’s there to keep em in check !!

- once a cashier tried to get your number and he was not having it

“nuh uh”

- like 🤷🏽‍♀️ sorry but if they look like a loser he’s not letting it happen

- people assume you guys are dating cause he does that but he’s just a little protective fr

- he ain’t letting no scrub try to take you out, tf he look like?

- steals you that expensive bag you wanted

- goes with you into the makeup stores and lets you swatch the lipsticks on him if you run out of room on your hand

- will be mad if they don’t have your shade in anything and curse out the employees

- gets banned

#saint laurent productions #the disastrous life of saiki k.#saiki x reader #kaido x reader #kuboyasu x reader #saiki headcanons #saiki k x reader #saiki k x black reader #x black reader

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yanderes-galore · 9 months

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Could we get a romantic yandere knockout and breakdown from prime (together) with a human reader? A blurb or headcanons are fine

Wasn't sure if you wanted them sharing or a rivalry so I made it sharing. I feel the way this came out was a poor execution but I do feel they'd work well together :(

Yandere! TFP! Knock Out + TFP! Breakdown with Human! Darling

Pairing: Romantic - Sharing

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Poly yandere, Cybertronian/Human/Cybertronian pairing, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Stalking, Degrading behavior, Threats, Forced relationship, Violence, Implied murder, Dubious affection.

These two do seem like the type to share a darling.

They are a close duo and are often seen together until Breakdown's demise.

While Breakdown is always looking for a fight, Knock Out is one for vanity.

There's no real way for a human to meet these two on formal and proper terms.

Humans are usually seen as less than when it comes to Decepticons.

Autobots are often shamed for making allies with such humans and not treating them as pets.

You would most likely meet these two by being kidnapped after being stalked for awhile.

Be it a human who has minimal contact with Autobots or a lot of contact with the Autobots... they'll take interest.

There's also the way I've used before where you work with vehicles.

Which means you could've repaired them/helped them and just not have known it?

Being stalked by sentient vehicles/Cybertronians is an unnerving thought.

You'll notice in the corner of your eye two different vehicles following you.

They dart out of sight after but it puts you on edge.

Knock Out is probably the first one open to the idea of a human darling.

He's been around the humans and didn't mind it when you touched his paint.

You even tried to swatch the right colors the one time he tried to get you to fix him.

Knock Out thinks you're adorable with your small stature and oblivious nature to his true form.

He may tip Breakdown off to you and gets him to tag along in following you.

Breakdown thinks of you as a human pet like most Decepticons, Knock Out thinks the same thing for awhile too.

It takes the two Decepticons some time to think of you more than that, their feelings most likely occurring when they stalk you.

In private they talk about you, the cute human they've been so attached to.

They share their distaste of those around you, they plot ways to know more about you, they even plot kidnapping you together.

They would play their obsession off as just wanting you as a pet.

Although they do think about the idea of being involved with you in a more... romantic/intimate way?

They'll kidnap you together once they had their fill of watching you.

Watching you in your home, at your job, and on the street gets them yearning for something else to satiate this human desire they have.

Good luck running when they enact their plan.

You're going to be running from two vehicles.

Knock Out may be faster, but Breakdown's always lurking around the corner.

Even if you try to run in a car of your own, they'll run you off the road.

Then they'll tear you out of your car and take you with them.

Both of them want to hold you although I imagine Breakdown will take the roll.

They tell other Decepticons, like Starscream and Megatron, that they decided to keep a human pet.

It's an annoyance to others, but as long as they "clean up after you" they can keep you.

It's dehumanizing and degrading.

The two start by teasing and treating you like a pet.

They comment on your size, they lightly pet your body, and carry you everywhere like you're some hamster.

Although soon you'll notice they do it less and less.

Instead? They both treat you like you're closer than you actually are.

Knock Out keeps up your looks and checks your health with the limited human knowledge he has.

Breakdown is more gentle around you and even acts defensive/protective of he and Knock Out's obsession.

They don't mind sharing between each other too much since they get along with each other well.

They do mind when others question their obsession.

Decepticons aren't supposed to be so close to humans.

Despite this they find themselves holding you closer when others question their feelings towards you.

Sure, they can't properly show you they care without Holoforms-

But they still love you and that's their business.

Just because I don't mention Holoforms much I'll speak a little about them.

Using Holoforms, an upgrade they put in once they find you, they have an easier time showing affection without crushing you.

In this form Knock Out can properly pick clothes for you or keep you looking like their human.

Breakdown likes carrying you and displaying his strength in either form, even when you struggle.

Knock Out is the brains of the duo while Breakdown is the brawn.

If they feel they need to get rid of someone to keep you then Breakdown is sent to squash them.

Be them human or Cybertronian...

Breakdown is the one who comes back splattered in glowing Energon or red blood.

Knock Out isn't the one who deals with the murder part of the obsession usually.

It's messy.

Although if he really hates the person he'll join in.

When you start to eventually sob out of fear, the two struggle with comfort.

They'll use their Holoforms to hold and comfort you but they have no idea how to make you feel better.

In reality they most likely can't as they are the ones or kidnapped you and forced you to love them.

They hold and kiss you as their Holoforms, they tell you they're the best partners you could ever have.

Regular old humans are below you, you deserve something better.

What's better than them?

Cry, scream, struggle all you want.

All that'll do is make Knock Out restrain you until you learn to be a good human for them.

He and Breakdown will take care of you.

It's Decepticon nature to lie and steal to get what you want... they'll never let you go once they have you.

#yandere transformers #yandere transformers prime #yandere tfp knock out #yandere tfp breakdown #yandere knock out #yandere breakdown

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aira-cc · 1 year

Photo

Woodenland Set ｡.:*✧🐻

Hello all!! I have been wanting to make something for kids and toddlers for a long time and finally, I can present you Woodenland Set. The collection features both functional and decorative items for your little ones. You can see the functional objects above and read more information below. Also, I have good news for you, this is not the end of it (✧ω✧) I plan to make add-ons in the near time.

The set includes 20 items:

♡ Dice Toy | 1 Swatch | 15 Polys

♡ Desk | 12 Swatches | 2k Polys

♡ Chair | 12 Swatches | 410 Polys

♡ Stool | 12 Swatches | 270 Polys

♡ Clock | 13 Swatches | 420 Polys

♡ Shelf | 12 Swatches | 660 Polys

♡ Organizer | 1 Swatch | 1.3k Polys

♡ Bear Lamp | 8 Swatches | 1k Polys

♡ Bear Chair | 12 Swatches | 1k Polys

♡ Organizer V2 | 1 Swatch | 580 Polys

♡ Photo Box | 3 Swatches | 470 Polys

♡ Puzzle Toy | 6 Swatches | 1.6k Polys

♡ Step Stool | 15 Swatches | 260 Polys

♡ 3 Holders | 1 Swatch | max 470 Polys

♡ Nightstand | 12 Swatches | 1.2k Polys

♡ Deco Chair | 12 Swatches | 710 Polys

♡ Drawing Board | 12 Swatches | 1.1k Polys

♡ Deco Nightstand | 12 Swatches | 1.3k Polys

Additional Info:

BGC

Tagged swatches

Custom thumbnails

Custom specular maps

Custom normal maps

What you should know

✧ Puzzle toy functions as 'nesting blocks'. Since toddlers can sit on all 4 sides of 'nesting blocks', clippings between the puzzle pieces and the toddler may occur

✧ Toddlers hold the block from 'nesting blocks' in their hands while playing with the puzzle toy. if you don't want the block to appear, I recommend the mod here by @aroundthesims 💙

✧ For those who are worried about sharing cc towards the end of the month and double charging, I have already switched to the subscription billing method, and the great thing about it, you can pledge at any time of the month without paying twice. This method allows me to adjust the sets according to my schedule rather than the 1st of the month. I aim to share something every month, and didn't want this month to be without cc so I canceled a few items and decided to share the set on this date.

I put this set under the cute style tag and will continue to do so for my following sets. You can quickly access these items by searching “woodenland” or “aira” in the game. If you run into any issues please let me know. Enjoy!!

•˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Download on Patreon(Early Access until February 15th)

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msneedful-ispleaseful · 7 months

Text

Kenma! kinktober day 11

Kenma adores just having you on the floor beside or under his gaming desk. So much so that in between dying and respawning, he pulls down his joggers letting his hard dick slap his stomach and fucks it down your throat like you're a fleshlight with the little spurts of energy he gets between sets from the excess Gatorade he chugs while he marathons, imagine him just roughly disregarding your oxygen and deep throating you, cumming in a minute or two quietly and softly- as to not disturb the ongoing stream. then muttering a quiet “...sorry” before returning to his game and repeating the whole thing over again routinely despite the quiet apologies that always leave his mouth between moans, because he loves it so much he just cant stop.....

It’s a practiced routine, rehearsed nightly until it becomes muscle memory for you two, now days when getting ready for bed when you see kenma get ready to stream you crawl under his desk, settling between his legs— and then you wait.

You wait for the soft "Tut'" following the loud ‘K.O’ hear the snap of his waistband being tugged down under his balls, his already-hard cock presented to you, You open your slack jaw and lean forward.

You wait for his fingers to wrap around the base, run his palm down the length and give it two pumps, and then it’s pushed past your lips and grazing the back of your throat in one swift thrust. Drool pools past your lips at the sudden intrusion, dripping down your neck you gag at the head of his cock pushing in further, pushing in harder. your eyes burn and begin to water tears wetting your lashes and as he thrust faster you can’t. breath.—

But the seconds tick down on screen, you know it without needing to see it. because you can hear it 60-120 seconds before he has to go back to focusing on the game and ignoring your pleading eyes and desperate humps on his foot, you wet clothed pussy grind down slow and firm.

So you hold in your pleas, let your tongue flatten around the bottom of his cock and trace the vein that travels from the base up. Your hands finding his plump balls, stroking the skin with the pads of your fingers and squeezing them like kneeding balls you revel in the way they swell impossibly in your palm, pulse under your hand your sputtering and gagging increasing.

The steady slap, slap, slap, of every thrust only pushes his cock down further, buries your nose into the dark bush deeper, cuts off the oxygen supply to your brain even more. until you’re hazy, glancing up at him with glazed eyes but the figure in front of you is invisible, to blurry to be called anything but a swatch of colors.

You don’t notice the way his hips pick up speed anymore ,don’t care about the way his hands dig into your scalp and fuck your throat down onto the base like you’re nothing but an onahole kneeled prettily in front of him looking up at him with hearts in her eyes. By the time you come to, he’s sat back down on his chair with the waistband firmly snapped around his hips and you’re still kneeling there with cum collecting in your mouth.

You watch as his hands reach back ontop the desk, steady click clacking of the keyboard chiming back in like it never left, and when you blink up at him through glazed vision he looks down at you with a soft expression that says ‘sorry’.

It makes you blush, makes your heart pick up at the tenderness that rivals the roughness of his hips earlier, makes you forget about the cum that’s still sitting on your tongue until it drips down onto your thighs and mixes with the drool slicking the skin. So you swallow it, feel the creamy fluid trickle down your throat and nuzzle your cheek to his knee as a show of appreciation.

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azsazz · 1 year

Text

Dioxazine

Modern!Rhys x Reader

Summary: While at the art shop looking for the necessary supplies for your first semester of art school, you get a bit distracted by the cocky cashiers intriguing eye color.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,254

Notes: It’s 1am and now it’s Sunday so I’m posting rn so @writingsbychlo can see this when she wakes up. This one’s for you babes! I hope you love it.

P.S. Gosh I just love young, cocky Rhys so much. 😭

_________________________________________

You really should’ve grabbed a basket.

Your arms are stuffed with supplies: sketchbooks, pencils, oil paints, a roll of canvas, anything and everything you could need for the start of your classes in a few days.

They’d given you a list of all of the tools needed for your first semester at art school and yeah, you could’ve ventured to the nearest chain store, but you thought it’d be better to support the local art supply in town.

That is, until you meet the cashier.

He looks anything but friendly, leant over the expanse of the counter, flipping through a magazine ever so lazily. The boy doesn’t even look up when you drop your supplies down, spilling across the surface with purpose.

“Hello?” you crow when you’ve been standing there for a solid minute while he reads whatever article is next to the full page perfume ad with a half naked model on it. You catch sight of his long fingers rubbing the corner of the pages, separating them from each other so that he can turn to the next.

“Hi,” he responds blankly, like you’ve just run into him and he doesn’t know why you’re speaking to him. Your brows knit together as you stare at him, wondering if he always acts so careless about his job or you’ve just caught him at a bad time.

“I, um…” you trail off, frustrated because all you want to do is purchase your supplies and you’ll be out of his inky black hair. “Can you look at me?”

A muscle twitches in his jaw in annoyance, which is fine because his rudeness is irritating you as well, so at least you have that in common.

Finally, he snaps shut the magazine and looks up at you. His glaring eyes are startling, not because he looks menacing, but you’ve never quite seen a color like that before, bright violet with flecks of a dark hue that reminds you of the stars in the night sky.

They make you itch to test out your new paints.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he stands to his full height, and holy Gods, he towers over you by at least a whole foot. “Is there something I can help you with?”

You clear your throat, “Yes, actually. If you’re not too busy, that is.” You glance at the magazine, now facedown on the counter.

The side of his mouth quirks in a wicked smirk, “You’ve caught me at a good stopping point.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, muttering something under your breath that only makes him smile wider.

“I’m looking for the umber oil paint but I didn’t see any on the rack.”

“Freshman then?” his teeth are bright in his grin. He rounds the corner of the counter, leading you back the way you came. There aren’t many students milling about the small shop, and as you pass the pen section you have to talk yourself into not purchasing another just for the sake of how pretty it looks.

You make a face at his insinuation. “You can tell that just from my paint selection?”

“Yes and no. No, because umber is a staple color for most painters,” he glances at you over his shoulder as he slows to a stop before the rack of organized paints. He takes his time, giving you a once over that makes you flush and hug your arms across your chest. His smile only grows and you scowl in response. “And yes, because If you weren't a freshman you would’ve asked for a specific one. There’s burnt umber and raw umber.”

He plucks both tubes of paint from the shelf and holds them out to you, “Very different colors.”

“They look the same to me,” you mumble, studying the swatches on the tubes. They’re a few shades off from each other, surely that can’t make that much of a difference.

You definitely don’t take into account how small the tubes look in his large hands, and you’re absolutely not thinking about taking one just to compare the size difference between your hands.

“Trying to decide which one to get?” His question is innocent but the look on his face is anything but.

You flush and the collar of your shirt seems to tighten out of nowhere. “Yes.”

He stares down at you for a moment, making sure that you know he’d given you an out.

“You’re going to need both.”

“I guess I’ll take your word for it, since you seem to know so much about art.”

“That’s why I work at the art store,” he replies bluntly, letting you lead the way back to the register, “Because I know my shit.”

“Well it’s definitely not because of your less than charming personality,” you retort, shocking yourself. You’re usually not so rude to people but there’s just something about this guy that’s getting under your skin.

All you want to do is go back to your dorm.

“You think I’m charming?”

You scoff, “Absolutely not,” You catch yourself peeking at how well fitting his pants are against the round of his ass as he makes his way back to the register side of the counter. You shake your head, scolding yourself. “Now are you going to ring up my stuff?”

“No, but I will check you out.”

You groan, “That was terrible.”

“Terrible or cute?”

You give him a pointed look, face straight. “Terrible.”

“I can try another,” he says as he finally starts ringing up your art supplies.

“No thank you, just the supplies for me today, thanks,” you try, silently praying that he hurries. You can’t stand the thought of being around him for much longer if he spouts another cheesy line that you know he’s probably used on plenty of girls before. You don’t care how cute he is.

“You know what else these are good for?” He holds up the tube of Dioxazine purple paint, the one that looks like a bottled color of his eyes.

“I really didn’t ask.”

“Finger Painting.”

The retort rolls quickly off your tongue and just as swift to wipe that smile off of his gorgeous face. “Should’ve known that’s what you’re into, since you act like a three year old.”

His eyes glow, taking the card you’re holding out for the transaction. You don’t even care how much the total is, you just want to get the hell out of here.

“Feisty.”

“Just give me the damn receipt,” you’re pretty sure your cheeks look like they’ve been brushed with the cadmium red paint in your bag as you hold out your hand for your card and the thin sheet of paper.

“Yes, ma'am,” he obeys, passing both over to you, sliding your bag of supplies across the counter.

“And don’t call me that.”

“What do you want me to call you? Darling? Or your name, perhaps?”

“No.”

“Any other requests?” he asks cheekily, planting his hands on the counter so he can lean toward it, towering over you.

You take the bag, fully planning on ignoring him in favor of taking a brisk walk towards the door but he’s shuffling around under the counter and trailing after you.

“Yeah, you can stop following me,” you remark, catching sight of the bunched up sweatshirt in his hands. It’s nowhere near cold yet so you don’t understand why he has that on him. Maybe it got cold in the store while he was sitting on his ass doing nothing.

“My shift just ended, Darling.”

You halt as you step onto the sidewalk. He takes a few steps further, swinging around to face you when he realizes you’ve stopped.

Narrowing your eyes up at him, you say, “Didn’t I just tell you not to call me that?”

“You didn’t tell me your name, so I guess I’ll just have to keep calling you pet names, Darling.”

“(Y/N),” you nearly growl, “My name is (Y/N).”

He repeats your name and you clutch your bag tighter in your hands because you’d never heard it sound quite that lovely coming out of someone's mouth. It gives you goosebumps.

“I’m Rhysand, but you can call me Rhys.”

“I’m honored,” you respond sourly, hating that he’s smiling at your annoyance. “Can I go now?”

You try to step around him but he slides into your path again, blocking your way back to campus.

“You know my friends and I are throwing a party at my place tonight,” he starts, glancing up at the street over your head before returning those piercing eyes on yours. He shrugs. “You know, before class starts up and all that.”

“Cool.”

He barks out a laugh that licks up your spine in the best way. “That was me inviting you, if that wasn’t clear.”

“It wasn’t,” you say, even though it was.

He cocks his head, grinning crookedly at you, “Don’t be like that.”

You can’t help but to roll your eyes at this cocky boy. You blurt the next question that comes to mind instead of giving him an answer. “Why are you even working here?”

“So I can meet pretty girls like you,” he responds innocently, dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks in an exaggerated manner.

You can’t help but to laugh, shifting your bag to the other arm, “Try again.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up into a wicked curve and your heart definitely doesn’t stutter and you certainly aren’t thinking about breaking out the oil paints you’ve just bought.

“I might work at the art supply store to get a discount on my own supplies,” he starts, “Or I might work at the art supply store so that my father thinks that I can be independent and make a living off becoming an artist instead of taking over the family business.”

And well, you weren’t expecting him to be so open about it.

Unsure of what to say, you focus on the fact that he said he was also taking classes for art.

“You’re in art school?”

“I know, the patchwork tattoos make me seem like something much more scholarly,” he grins and you had taken notice of the array of…interesting patchwork tattoos littering the tanned skin of his arms.

“Yeah,” you huff a laugh, “The Mickey Mouse one really screams finance major.”

Rhys’ smile falls, an offended scowl taking over his perfect face. “It’s not just a tattoo of Mickey Mouse,” he protests, turning his arm so the both of you can see the silly tattoo better. “He’s…on drugs, so it’s cool, ya know? An aesthetic if you will.”

You stare at it, then at him, an eyebrow raised.

He gives in. “Okay…so it was a dare but there’s a good story behind it, I swear! I can tell you more about it on our date.”

“Date? I thought it was a party?”

“So you’re coming?”

You purse your lips, unimpressed. “I didn’t say all that.”

The blaring sounds of a horn cuts off his response, drawing both of your attention to the street. There’s two boys in the front seats of the gorgeous vintage Bronco, painted your favorite color. Your mouth nearly drops at the pristine condition of the car, and then again once you catch sight of the handsome passengers.

The boy driving the car leans over the one in the passenger, “C’mon Rhys, hurry up and get her number or we’re going to do this thing without you!”

The boy in the passenger seat glares at the driver, your cheeks heating up under their stares.

“You heard him,” Rhys says, smiling so wide you’re afraid his cheeks might split open. “Can’t have them thinking I didn’t get your number, right?”

“You didn’t.”

“(Y/N),” he sighs, yielding only a small step when you take one forward. When you don’t say anything he continues, “At least come to the party.”

“No, thanks.”

“Please?”

You exhale an exasperated breath. He just won’t give up. “If I say yes will you get out of my way?”

“Definitely,” he nods his head eagerly.

“Then yes,” you finally relent and he beams, “I will see you there.”

“Sick,” he mutters proudly to himself. He shoves his hand into your bag and you fumble for a second, yelping and straightening the paper sack as he rifles around for something.

Rhys pulls a sharpie out and grabs your arm. You’re so caught off guard that you just watch as he writes his number on your forearm in thick black letters. Your mouth drops open in shock. You’ll have to scrub your skin raw to try and get it off.

He steps back, admiring his work. He caps the marker and tosses it back into your bag, “My number looks good on you, you should consider getting that inked. I have a friend, if you want.”

“Let me guess, he’ll be at the party.”

His grin is shit eating.

Rhys winks, pulling out a can of spray paint from beneath the bunched up fabric of his sweatshirt as he retreats towards the car, and it’s then that you realize he's only brought the jacket so he could take the paint, hiding it in the fabric so no one would see.

He shakes the can in the air for emphasis, swinging a leg up into the backseat of the convertible. The grin on his face is something you'll be thinking about for the rest of the day.

“I'll paint something pretty for ya, (Y/N). See you tonight.”

#rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand/reader #rhys/reader #rhys x reader #night court #modern!rhys #art school rhys #modern au #art school au #acotar #acowar #acomaf #acotarxreader #azsazz

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letomills · 6 months

Text

Download tops: SFS / Mega Download bottoms: SFS / Mega

An underwhelming titlecard for a pretty big set of tops and bottoms converted for Lifa / @withlovefromsimtown's trans AM body shape. All have fat and preg morphs, the recolors are BSOK'd.

Previews, details and credits under the cut.

The swatches below are purposefully widely shot to show examples of combinations with other pieces from the set. While the meshes are based on Lifa's trans AM full-body mesh, everything can also be combined with regular AM separates without waist seam issues.

Some of these pieces are enabled as athleticwear or formalwear. To be able to select separates for clothing categories other than everyday, please use Lazy Duchess's Separate4all mod.

The tops

All tops are on the same mesh with fat and preg morphs. Polycount: 1,220.

1. Illenlan T-shirts

Categorized as everyday & athletic.

Textures are these by @illenlan + mashed up with this tee by @spell-bloom for the "hentai" recolor.

2. Bruno Paul Frank Tees

Categorized as everyday & athletic.

Textures by Bruno.

Gelydh Gothic Tops

Categorized as everyday.

Textures by Gelydh.

Xandher Weekender Casual Tops

Categorized as everyday.

Textures by Xandher.

Xandher Weekender Cutoff Tops

Categorized as everyday.

Textures by Xandher.

Xandher "First Date" Shrug Set

Categorized as everyday & formal.

Textures originally by Xandher. I edited them to stretch down lower on the stomach so they can be combined with more tops. The 'no jewelry' versions are the same but without the necklace, ring and nail polish.

io Vanity Tank Top

Categorized as everyday & formal.

Textures by io / @serabiet.

~~~

The bottoms

Xandher Jeans

Categorized as everyday. Polycount: 754.

Textures by Xandher: everyday essentials, adorned.

Shunga Reebok Classics

Jeans recolors are categorized as everyday, leggings recolors are everyday & athletic. Polycount: 4,624.

Original mesh is my lower-poly edit of @aklira's conversion of Shunga's Reebok Classics Club C 85. The shoe recolors are the ones I made for F over there as well, the leggings are my darker edit of DeeDee's leggings, the jeans textures are taken from here and here.

io Short Skirt Heels

Categorized as everyday & formal. Polycount: 970.

Original skirts by io / @serabiet + recolors by @brattylulu (I added #4).

Executables Shorts Running Shoes

Categorized as everyday & athletic. Polycount: 989.

Original shorts by @executables-sims.

~~~

Preg previews

Yes, the fat + preg morph combo looks ridiculous as always. Since I wanted everything to be combinable with other AM pieces, I had to comply with the standard placement of the waist seam vertices. Maxis is 100% to blame for giving AM such shitty morphs.

Let me know if you encounter any issue. I hope the anon who requested separates for AMTr will find this set useful ^^

#sims 2 #download #body shapes #AMTr #clothing:everyday #clothing:formal #clothing:athletic #sims 2 download #sims 2 cc #s2cc #ts2cc

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ronearoundblindly · 1 year

Text

Threadbare (2)

Steve Rogers x Fashion Designer!Reader

Part Two: Strain Curve (see previous or series)

IMPORTANT: I forgot to mention and link that this started with an anon ask, so I should give them credit for the idea. Here's where this all started! Additionally, Richard Fisk is an actual Marvel character and the son of Kingpin. All that is straight out of the comics (and animated shows), down to the horrible color choices.

Summary: Steve shelters you from Fisk while attempting to hide the truth from Tony. He's not a great liar...but how much of this is really fake?

Warnings for fluffy fluff of the 21st-fluffery with a teeny bit of angst, 100% idiots in love! Also a quick disclaimer about me knowing exactly diddlysquat about fashion design. I binged 'Next In Fashion' and so this is the best I got lol... WC 4066

You watch Steve blush at your attempted smile. He paws at the back of his head before gathering another confession.

“Actually, I do have—I mean, yes, I wanted to see you, but uh—“ he rushes over to fetch a paper bag he must have stashed as he snuck in behind the cops “—I did have a reason to come.”

In the bag, you find three shirts, and your smile turns more genuine.

“Of course, you did. How romantic.”

You’re still awash with adrenaline; there’s no filter to keep your teasing at bay. You can barely pick up that you said anything anyway.

Steve shrugs, looking down to take back the shirts as Abby returns with a glass of water for you. “Not my best move.”

You chug the water, loudly, unable to regulate how desperately you need it. Abby gently pries Steve’s shirts from his tense arms.

“Right.” Steve rolls his shoulders out, straightening and clearly falling into Captain mode. “We need to get you somewhere safe. I just have to make a few calls and—“

“Don’t tell Stark,” you blurt, hand instinctively grabbing the wrist that holds his phone ready. “I’m sorry. That sounded like an order, just…please don’t tell Mr. Stark.” Tony can’t know that Fisk has been using you as a tailor as well. He can’t.

Alarm and curiosity flicker behind Steve’s blue eyes, but he hides it well immediately. “Ok. I’ll—” he makes no move to take his arm back “—think of something.”

“And I have three clients left…for the day.”

Abby tsks you from behind though it’s the truth. The empty glass rattles on the tabletop with your faint tremor.

Steve thinks for a prolonged, squinting moment. “After work then. I’ll pick you up.”

You run off adrenaline and butterflies the rest of the day, and yes, whatever liquids or snacks Abby and Dominica (when she returns from her errand) put into your hand along the way, but mostly it’s the fluttering anticipation of Steve that floats you through.

And then he’s back and it’s already dark outside.

“Oh shit,” you burst, politely showing Mr. Chen out while Steve waits his turn to get in the door. He says nothing, but Captain America lowers his head in disapproval at your curse. “I’m sorry. I lost track of time. Let me grab some things.”

You race up the stairs to the apartment over the shop. Your clientele and brand used to be small enough that you could keep those two sides of life separate, but slowly, your work has crept into your living space. Now you survive from a dresser, a hanging rack, and a Murphy bed that doubles as a small desk when it’s upright against the wall.

Not much of an existence, but it’s very practical.

You’re shuffling around with an overnight bag and a dump tote to grab mostly work things and two changes of clothes. One of your assistants can bring you more stuff if/when necessary, but it feels presumptive to think you’ll live out of a safe house for long.

“So…working to live or living to work?”

You jump at Steve’s deep voice from the open doorway. He looks around at the hodgepodge of work benches and mannequins lining the walls.

“It’s a fluid and evolving situation,” you admit, sweeping several binders of fabric swatches and sketch pads into the tote. You eye a work-in-progress on one of the dummies and decide against trying to take it. Too bulky.

In order not to keep Steve waiting, you hand over the tote and head to the car, texting Abby and Dominica instructions the whole drive. Steve assures you that you’ll still have wifi and freedom to communicate, so you don’t have to clear fittings and consults off the books. It simply won’t be wise to invite welcome clients into where you’re staying.

Admittedly, that’s very generous considering you could have been looking at a blackout, witness-protection level of hiding.

You’re still on your phone when Steve opens your car door, and you shuffle with your duffel, his feet at the edge of your periphery to follow. It doesn’t register that you walk down a long hall. It doesn’t register that there’s an elevator ride and another voice. It doesn’t register that you’re looking at a kind of hostel-esque apartment inside another building until you ask if there’s a space you’ll be able to spread out for work.

Steve glows with pride that he thought of that and walks you to a conference room…surrounded by glass…overlooking a 30-story high view of the city.

You’re in the Avengers Tower, formerly Stark Tower.

“Wait, he’s not supposed to know.”

Steve gets your confusion right away. “Tony doesn’t, but without filing paperwork stating the reason you need a safe house, this was the best—“

“Sheers!” the booming voice of one Tony Stark reverberates across 360 degrees of windows. “I thought it might be you.”

“Might be me for what?” you ask as innocently as possible.

“As Capsicles’ first, of course.”

Steve hangs his head while his pal claps him on the back.

“First use of his guest pass that is. Granted, I’ve been saying for years we need an in-house tailor, but no takers…” Stark fake-punches Steve’s shoulder. “Way to break the ice, buddy. I’m proud of you. What happened? You noticed you’re both workaholics and needed your girl…closer to get closer, did you? Good call.”

Steve shoots wary eyes your way, silently praying you ignore that remark or maybe checking you’re okay with the implication. The way Stark says ‘your girl’ as if he’s heard it several times before though…

“Something like that,” you shrug.

“At least he finally asked you. I kept telling him to shit or get off the pot.”

“Language,” you hiss quietly.

The men look a little shocked for a split second before slowly turning to each other, a silent conversation passed in the empty space over your head. Whatever just happened seems to have really convinced Tony because a wry smile flickers beneath his sinking, pale sunglasses. Yes, of course, Tony Stark is wearing sunglasses at night, just as, of course, Captain America is willingly deceiving Stark to be your fake boyfriend.

“Romeo,” the building’s namesake coos. “Training them young, I see.”

Steve’s jaw and neck tighten, a raging flush creeping up his pale skin, but he doesn’t argue. Stark buys the ploy, which is great, but in reality, Steve doesn’t even have your personal number.

Tony lifts his hands in surrender and starts retreating to the door. “Look, I hate to take credit—“

“No, you don’t.”

Incredulous, sagging eyebrows dip below his frames. “—but I am very, very good.” He points a finger back and forth between you and Steve. “You’re welcome.”

He tries to peek under a pile of sketches atop your work tote, and you rush to slap your hand down. Stark might see the other designs you’re working on, and just like he can’t know about Fisk, he can’t know about those.

“Fine.” Tony puts his hands up again. “I’m going.”

Steve steps to your side, apology loud in his eyes, and asks if he can make you tea or something stronger, ya know, because Tony has that effect on people.

“Yeah—“ you stare off toward the elevators where Stark remains lurking “—he’s still there,” you whisper.

Steve huffs a laugh and shifts to bridge the mere inches left between you, his hand gently landing on your upper arm and planting a kiss on your forehead like a breeze.

“Better make it look good then.”

Turns out you need tea and food.

You’d been so reliant on your assistants for nourishment that you forgot dinner. Steve sees; he has it covered. Instead of winding down after a trying day, however, you get a rush of energy, and you can’t squander the chance to make crucial adjustments. Every minute counts in the lead-up to Fashion Week.

“May I join you?” Steve asks, ready to walk away with his meal in hand should you prefer. “I won’t take up much space.” He looks down at his shoes and up the two inches above his head to the top of the doorframe. “Ok, much more space,” he corrects.

“You wanted to leave me alone?”

He bites back a smile and shakes his head, settling into the least cluttered corner.

He chats excitedly as you both eat, but after failing to pry some answers about Fisk from you,—‘are you often threatened by clients?’ and ‘can you steer him in another designer’s direction?’—Steve slips away to grab his own art supplies.

You’ve barely looked up until you get a surge of inspiration and search for your colored pencils under the pile of templates. How did they get all the way over there? Since when are red and grey so worn down? Weren’t you needing to replace both blues soon?

“Those in your way? I can move them?”

Steve stops sketching, holding a yellow pencil, the only color missing from the tin. That’s when you realize. He uses the same brand of pencils you do—tools made of quality materials but nothing overly fancy.

“No need,” you marvel. “I just mistook them for my own.”

Steve sweeps a large hand out in offering. “Mistake away.”

You can’t help it. You chew your lip to calm your grin. He’s simply a very giving man who enjoys simple things. It’s refreshing.

“Or we could trade? We seem to use the opposite colors the most.”

“Right,” Steve laughs, “I went on a tear trying for Sam’s suit in-flight. Never turned out.” Shaking his head dislodges a lock of hair, so he runs his fingers through the strategic coif.

“Hmm,” you hum absently, engrossed by his picturesque appearance, “my drawings are more like guidelines for my imagination. No need to be precise.”

“A sentiment I’ve heard many times before.” He slides the tin closer to the midway point between you. “I just want to do beauty justice, which sounds pretentious but…

“Point is—“ Steve lifts his gaze to you with a soft shrug “—use whatever you like.”

You thought your work habits were grueling, but poor Steve flits around at all hours of the day and night with workouts, training, meetings, and missions. He mostly gets to do drive-by waves of ‘hello’ as he travels the building past your glass bubble, always with a smile, always with a tinge of something else. He’s an easy man to read: you can tell when he’s fatigued (in spirit though, not body), you can tell when he’s irritated from stress, and you can tell when he wants to linger but has to go.

It’s incredibly cute. Steve Rogers is just so damn cute.

You continue with business as usual as best you can, video calling during consults and the most critical fittings. Clients aren’t exactly happy with your absence, but they don’t dare complain when the alternative is waiting another month for you to schedule in person. Besides, there are oftentimes you step away from routine appointments to focus on creating new lines.

Dominica is allowed to walk right in with any of your requested supplies since she’s delivered to Stark several times before. She stays for a few hours to touch base. She assures you that Tarik is no longer unnerved by the police car that sits at the curb outside the atélier’s front door. Apparently, Abby takes the cops coffee a couple times a day.

All in all, it’s going well.

One day, you think Steve is showing up for one of your ‘sketch sessions’—where he sits in his own chair somewhere around the huge oval table and quietly works alongside you—but not today.

“They…it’s…” Steve plants his feet on the carpet across from you and looks behind him nervously. Anytime other people are near the room, he walks right over to you to kiss your cheek, a show to keep up the appearance of actually being a couple, but it’s late enough that no one is around. “We do movie night—we’re doing movie ni—we’re watching a movie if you’d like to join?”

You’re tempted to tease him, ask ‘where’s my kiss’ or something that makes that fiery blush creep up Steve’s face, but you grin back. “Sure. I could use the break.”

Honestly, no, you should be hammering out some details for the lapels of this blazer, but ehh, you’re also tired of staring at the same damn jacket.

Of course, this means the lot of them save you and Steve seats beside each other on a couch. You two have only ever sat in chairs in front of or separated by a table, so figuring out how to curl up next to the man you are not dating is an adventure in micro-expressions. You share a look that lasts about two seconds but contains a forty-five-minute discussion of how far is okay to take this and agree that you want to keep up the charade.

Thus, Steve lifts his arm to drape across your shoulders, and you lean into his chest.

It’s a good fit, good enough that you wake up two hours later not knowing what the movie was about and starting to sweat from being so close to his very warm body.

Maybe it’s the eye convo or maybe napping directly on him tells Steve how comfortable you are with him, but either way, he changes to giving a kiss on the cheek or forehead every instance he sees you, no exceptions.

After a week of remaining on the same floor of the same skyscraper and doing nothing but working, sleeping, and movie-sleeping, you’re at your wit’s end, longingly staring out the window at the city below.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Steve asks as he enters the conference room. Forehead kiss this time. His lips feel soft and warm as they ghost over your skin.

“Stuck,” you mutter.

His hand smooths across your back. “Well, how do you normally get unstuck?”

“I go for a walk through the park.” You know you can’t go outside, but it’s difficult to wrangle every bit of bitterness at your captivity. You appreciate all Steve is doing to make it so Fisk can’t get to you, but you need fresh air.

Steve sighs like he’s mad at himself before spinning around the room. “Right.” He grabs your hand. “Come with me.”

In the elevator, Steve explains that in keeping with the eco-friendly intent of the new clean energy tower, Tony made half of the rooftop a greenhouse and the other half a garden. The walking paths are all moss-covered, but there are no benches. Just outside the elevator doors are folding chairs, and Steve grabs two.

On separate chairs with no table in sight, you two watch the sunset on the other side of the building from your work room. You take in a big breath of the chilly air and shiver, completely content to experience freedom away from climate control, but Steve rushes back into the greenhouse to retrieve a blanket from the stack beside the chairs.

“Here ya go,” he stumbles, leaning to tuck the fabric around you. “I should have brought us tea or something,” but when he makes to leave this time, you take his hand.

“You’ll miss it.” He’s probably seen the view from here a million times before, but you don’t want him to go. “Stay,” you say in a whisper.

Steve visibly softens, shoulders dropping, eyes alight. “Yeah?” He sits again and looks at the nearly cloudless sky. “Yeah.” He slouches to get comfy in the small and unsupportive chair, but he looks so at home bathed in the warm pink light. “Each time’s a bit different but—“ he turns to you, smiling “—this one’s better.”

Since the sunset sit-down, Steve makes a point to pry you away from the work area when he has time to hang out with you. The couch isn’t actually far away from the conference room, but it does mean you get to sit together, your feet in his lap while he reads a book, listening to his commentary on the author’s points or sketching aimlessly for fun.

The whole thing feels like a bizarre vacation, some alternate reality where your home life intersects with superheroes. Tony Stark may have been a sometimes-client, but he never let you attempt anything more custom than a three-piece suit.

You’re not complaining; it’s just weird that Captain America is so average when his uniform comes off. He sinks his face into his palm when he’s sleepy. His yawn is outrageously adorable for how big the man is. He absently holds your ankles steady in his lap when he shifts on the cushions. His eyelids droop, and he repeats paragraphs when he can no longer keep his place on the page.

Steve Rogers could not be more normal, and for this reason, you find him extraordinary.

He gets dressed every morning while you’re there, no sweatpants, no workout wear—or, what did Sam call it? Athleisure? That’s not a word, right?—except for when Steve is actively working out. He thinks it’s too on-the-nose to wear your designs in front of you for days on end, but that limits his options significantly, considering how much of his wardrobe sports a Tovarich label. Good jeans and a black sweater will have to do because today he’s playing model.

It seems the mannequin Dominica hauled in for you isn’t close to the right proportions for your client so Steve volunteered, rewarded immediately with a gorgeous, toothy smile that made his heart thump against his ribcage.

Steve’s chatty but can’t help it.

There was one conversation a few days ago that unlocked so many memories he thought he’d lost.

While he peeked at a few of your sketches, you asked him about clothing in the 40s, and he took your notepad to doodle a bit. Steve drew a common dress from memory to show you girls he grew up with, the pleats and cinches in their exact spots because—now that he has your full and rapt attention—he thinks it’s important.

He’s had to recall maps, battle maneuvers, building layouts, and evil plans more times than he can count; no one’s ever asked him how his mother styled her hair or which shoes she wore to work at the hospital.

They’re just shoes, but Steve sat misty-eyed describing how Ma tied her laces a very specific way, the way she taught him to, the way he still ties them to this very day. He hadn’t thought of why in so long, and ever since, little details keep flooding back.

“Buck used to never tuck in his shirts,” Steve laughs as you nudge his arms higher to check his range of motion in the shoulders. “He’d fix the front half and leave a tail out in the back.”

You chuckle at that. “Unacceptable for proper ol’ Stevie,” you muse.

“No, it was not—“ he drops his head in shame “—and I’d remind him every time.” Steve spins, prompted by the pull of your hands at his waist. His face is on fire, but he promised to help you. He just has to ’suffer’ through your touch, he supposes.

How horrible…

“Sharp dresser, were you? Not a hair out of place?”

“Yes, ma’am, or…at least for my size I was.”

You’re deep in thought, pulling the bottom hem to check how it lays at his hips, checking the lining before buttoning him up. “These might be too flashy,” you mumble. “Gosh, I hope he likes this color.”

“Why not? It’s stunning,” Steve jumps too eagerly at the chance to praise the barely purple fabric. It’s that kind of illusion hue that might look black, navy, or its true shade in different lights.

“And the buttons?” you prod.

He tilts one of the stamped, dark nickel rounds to see the embellishment. “I’d consider that a signature touch of the Tovarich brand,” he beams.

Your elation is contagious until an ear-splitting alarm sounds overhead. You’re so startled you spring backward into a rolling chair and topple to the floor.

Steve scrambles to help you right yourself while the wailing screech continues, but he knows that noise.

Emergency.

He has to go.

You’re holding your elbow, flashing him a thumbs up, and Steve feels terrible yelling to ensure you’re okay.

Agents race past the glass walls, and he really has to run so off he goes, jacket still on.

An incredibly long seventeen hours later, Steve is returning to his room only to notice you’ve fallen asleep at the conference table. He’s pleased there is no bandage on your elbow, so the fall was no worse than bruising, but he refuses to leave you there.

Slowly peeling your face and hands from your drafting paper, Steve wrestles your flopping arms and limp legs into a solid hold to carry you to your own room.

You don’t wake up, not fully, only enough to grip the shoulder strap of his shield harness as he gently lowers you onto the unmade bed. Luckily, your MO is to kick off your shoes when concentrating on work, so once you release the leather attached to him, he pulls the covers over you.

He kisses your temple. “Night, Button,” he whispers like a secret, and for now, it is.

You simply sigh and turn deeper into the pillow.

Steve purposefully finds you at breakfast to ask if you’d want to get lunch with him. Yes, it would just be in the cafeteria on the lower levels, and yes, you two have already shared many meals, but in his mind, this is the actual ask, the question of ‘will you go out with me’ instead of just ‘are you hungry at this reasonable time and may I be hungry in your vicinity.’

It’s stupid, he knows. He’s anxious for your answer anyway.

Steve has a very love/hate relationship with having you essentially trapped in the Tower. On the one hand, you’re starved for interaction and the choice of your surroundings. On the other hand, he gets you all to himself. He’s ashamed of how much he enjoys that perk. Somewhere deep inside, he hopes whatever Fisk is after is never resolved, but that’s wishful—and terribly selfish—thinking.

Just in case going on a deliberate date with him isn’t offer enough, Steve can return your client’s jacket. He hung it in his locker when changing into the tactical suit. It’s safe, but he’ll get it after his debrief. That’s a good excuse. That’ll work.

You’re happy and excited, only making him more nervous, but it’s progress. He’s done ‘round noon after the long meeting scheduled to start in, yikes, fifteen minutes, and you quickly agree. Steve floats on cloud nine, bouncing his foot until dismissed so he can rush back up to you.

He isn’t expecting to see Tony in your bubble.

“You don’t know me, Stark. How dare you!” Your face twists in fury. “Screw this,” you shout, frantic in grabbing your essentials from the table. “I don’t answer to you. I don't need this. Someone else will get my things.”

Steve doesn’t understand why you won’t meet his eye or speak to him as you barrel past. He’s too stunned to follow you to the elevator, it feels imposing to race down and corner you in the lobby, but he marches up to Tony with wide eyes.

“What the hell happened?”

Tony waves him off, cagy and dismissive, rushing off upstairs to his lab, and Steve almost asks if this is about Fisk. If it’s not and he blabs, then you’ll definitely be angry at him. If he grills Tony too much, there might be something that gives away that Steve lied about having a significant other as his guest for two weeks. If Steve admits that he doesn’t even have your number, the jig is 100% up.

But he knows you have his number, he knows he still has a jacket you’ll want back, and he knows one thing he’s incredibly good at.

So Steve waits, ready to apologize, ready to grovel, ready to yell at Tony for whatever. He is just ready and waiting.

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp @shelbygeek @rogersideup @eyebagsanonymous @darsynia

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peachyteabuck · 1 year

Text

do you want this (like it wants you)

summary: kate likes to misbehave, but yelena has just the thing to keep her in line

commissioned by @caroldantops.

want to commission me? find my commission guidelines here

pairing: kate bishop x yelena belova x reader

words: 4018

content warnings: hair pulling, heavy bratting, intense D/s dynamics, orgasm control/denial, sybian use, dom! yelana, sub!kate, sub!reader, polyamory, pet play, breath play, vaginal oral sex, breathplay, aftercare is administered to both subs

Yelena just wants to rest.

She’s a busy woman, scaling the corporate ladder, a tough task given the complicated gender dynamics of the firm she’s been working at for the last year. It’s not as though she’s not highly qualified, but for whatever reason men with names like “Jason” or “Brett” or “Matt” spend most of their time questioning her qualifications or requesting reviews from someone “higher up” every time she presents, regardless of the fact everything is checked 3-4 times before being spoken about publicly.

This is why she’s been letting Kate get away with as much as she has today. Ever since she’d let the both of you out of your shared crate, all Kate had done was push the boundaries of Yelena’s strict rules. Touching herself? Check. Trying to touch you? Check. Talking out of turn? Check. You’d been on your usual good behavior—saying “please Daddy” and “thank you Daddy” and staying close to her—but you’d also been your usual, easily-influenced self. Kate had convinced you to let her rub over your weeping pussy while Yelena was busy making breakfast (pancakes, Kate’s favorite).

Her breaking point came when she’d separated the two of you, questioning why you were dripping through the simple cotton panties despite Yelena’s very strict direction not to. That’s when she learned that, not only had Kate swirled circles around your clit as you desperately attempted to muffle your moans, but she’d also said that Yelena would blame you instead of Kate for going against such an integral rule.

Kate knows she fucked up, too—another thing that adds another ten to the running total in Yelena’s mind. She can hear the threat in the way Yelena beckons her closer, the “Puppy, come” command a much lower tone than usual.

While not the most critical thinker, Kate’s real deviousness comes in how decisive she is. A car with no breaks, a scent hound caught on the trail of a fox, a baseball flying through the air at 97 miles-per-hour. None of these could compare with Kate, not when she spotted the leather swatch that was used for spankings haphazardly balanced on one of the arms of the couch (Yelena hasn’t had much time to do a lot of things lately, including clean).

Before she can do anything, the well-worn leather is in Kate’s mouth, the woman on all fours with her collar jingling as she pants.

“Let it go,” Yelena sighs more than commands.

Kate does not let it go. She does not even loosen her jaw just so she can tighten it up again once the other person trying to grab it believes they’ve won over her. She just holds it between her teeth, staring with narrowed eyes and a growl forming at the base of her throat.

You’re not sure what to do. Kate, a sharp contrast to your own fear of retribution, loves to misbehave. She likes to tease, to poke and prod and see what sort of volcanic eruption she can trigger with the least amount of effort. Yelena normally humors her at least a little before enacting strict punishment—getting out the whips and the darkened cage and the electric shock collar and the touching you while Kate remains tied up.

But Yelena doesn’t seem in the same mood as she does when she fingers you until you cry as Kate’s arms remain restrained behind her back, the rope connected to a hook in the wall to keep her in her place. Doesn’t have the same “try me” glimmer in her dark eyes, the same teasing smile.

This is different. Something—something you can’t quite describe—is different, and all you can do is watch.

As she decides what to do, Yelena thinks about the whiteboard Natasha had custom-made for her, the words “DAYS WITHOUT BRATTING” underneath a large “zero” she had written nearly two weeks prior. She knows she’s been working a lot, and (even though her office is within the house, and both of you have places to sit with her while she works) Yelena knows both of her subs had been feeling lonely.

But subs like Kate require consistency—give them an inch and they’ll find a mile. She’s not like you, nice and self-correcting. Once you found yourself grinding against a pillow while waiting for Yelena to clean you up after an intense squirting session, and almost cried from the shame. Kate? The definition of gluttonous in her lust, couldn’t stop even if she wanted to, which she doesn’t. Yelena is her guardrails, a yellow light, a tree for her to collide against.

“Give Daddy what you have in your mouth,” Yelena says through grit teeth. “Or I’ll have to reteach you what it means what someone loses their patience.”

You remain seated, curled up next to where Yelena props her feet up on the coffee table. A fluffy pink dog bed with Bunny embroidered on it, you were happy to spend the morning (or all day, really), resting your head against her legs while she occasionally pets your hair.

But no, the universe continues to punish you with the presence of one Kate Bishop.

A stare-down ensues in front of you, neither of them moving, but alert in case the other does. You half expect tumbleweeds to roll in the distance--as if the town isn’t big enough for the two of them.

But nothing happens, and the world stands still.

That is, until Kate makes a run for the bedroom, where there’s the only closet in the house that locks from the inside.

What Kate failed to consider, though, is that Yelena isn’t just fast: she’s strategic as well. Leashes with hook ends drilled in the wall are placed on each side of every room, useful for a litany of play. Now, though, they act as anchors Kate can’t easily avoid on all fours. She gets a few feet, if that, before Yelena’s got one hand on wrapped around the collar and the other on the leash’s clasp. One click later, Kate’s stuck in place, the short leash keeping her on her knees with her back straight.

Yelena’s fuming as she releases the leash, keeping her other hand occupied with the collar. It’s not loose, and she can tell Kate’s struggling to breath against the minimal give of the leather. Good, Yelena thinks. Maybe that’ll remind her how vulnerable she is.

“Let. Go.” She says through grit teeth once more, rage a fire in her eyes.

Kate’s got fire, too, but the kind that yearns for more gasoline, more newspaper, more anything to keep the blaze growing. Slowly, she moves her head from side to side, refusing to give up her bargaining chip. Does she know what she wants? Not exactly. But does she kind of, sort of, maybe have a plan on how to get it? Absolutely. And it involves the leather piece in her mouth.

“Fine,” Yelena cedes. Kate perks up at that, believing she’s won for now. “If you want it so bad, puppy, go ahead keep it in your mouth.”

What she doesn’t hear is Yelena mumbling under her breath, the blonde woman rubbing at her temples as she murmurs about how she’ll need something to bite down on in a minute.

“Stay right there, bunny,” she says, more audible now. She turns to Kate to say the same thing, then snorts.

Distorted by the leather, the stuck sub looks at you and smirks. Look at what I can do, her face says.

Yeah, yours replies, much drier. Sure.

Yelena returns a short time later carrying the sybian in her arms, silently setting it up. You can tell Kate’s as confused as you are—the sybian is usually a reward. Kate doesn’t let it show, though, still holding the leather in her mouth even as drool begins to drop from the corners of her lips. Once she sets it down as close to Kate as she can, she moves to you, her eyes full of concern.

“You okay, bunny?” she asks, wiping the tears from your eyes. You’re sweet—too sweet, sometimes—and she knows you require more emotional support regardless of what’s happening.

You lean into her hand, letting her caress your cheek. You’ve always been bad with chaos, with the unplanned. But Yelena’s there, always, to calm the storm.

“M’okay daddy,” you mumble. “I promise.”

This time her smile is genuine. “Good, bunny. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

You nod, moving your head to the side to kiss at her palm.

When Yelena’s certain you don’t need anything for now, she turns her attention back to Kate.

“Go ahead and mount it, puppy.”

Delightfully unaware, Kate does as she’s told, moving ever-so-carefully with the constraints of the leash’s length. Time stands still until she finally has it between her legs, her huffs of determination the only sound in the room. She looks pleased with herself as she rests on the rough silicone pad, a small triumph given the circumstances.

Yelena, once again, remains silent. She remains silent as she stares, waiting for Kate to move (she doesn’t). She remains silent as she opens the coffee table, the top lifting to reveal a batch of meticulously organized toys. She remains silent as she regards her options. She remains silent as she grabs purple rope and walks back to Kate.

Yelena only speaks when she crouches down and begins to wrap the ropes.

“I didn’t want to do this, you know,” Yelena mutters as she ties the them so that they keep Kate’s legs folded. She tests the give of the rope with her fingers, moving to tie her wrists behind her back after Kate gives her a nod. “But if you want to test me, fine.”

Yelena turns to the side, grabbing the large pink wand vibrator that had been charging in the bedroom. As she moves, her tank top falls down her chest, the silver keys on a matching chain nearly visible. One engraved with a P, the other a B; the keys to each of your chastity cages remain an ever-present reminder of one of Yelena’s favorite punishments.

Be good, she said once as she edged you, dangling them back and forth in front of your hazy eyes. Or I’ll need to make sure these still fit in those cute little locks over your pussy.

“C’mere bunny,” she says, beckoning you over. “Come here to Daddy.”

Your legs feel like jelly as you get up, slotting yourself in the chasm that’s formed between them. You stand in front of Yelena, a little apprehensive but ultimately willing to trust her with whatever plan she has formed while she was waiting for Kate to stop misbehaving.

Yelena leaves soft kisses along your jugular, her hands finding your hips. They’re still sore from the night before, covered in light, spotty purple bruising. She holds you as though you’re fragile, breakable—not wanting to crush you with her skilled hands.

She pushes up your shirt a little to cradle your tummy. For some reason, it makes you feel exposed.

It’s not like you were wearing much anyway, your preferred at-home attire being a well-worn shirt from either of your girlfriends and a comfortable pair of cotton panties. The shirt today is a two-sizes-too-big t-shirt from a tech startup Yelena had the misfortune of working for (and caused her to swear off startups forever), the underwear a pink pair with a small bow on the front. They’re also joined by your day collar, a silver necklace with a bunny outline and “property of Daddy” engraved in the back.

“Eyes up here, puppy,” she says, teeth scraping now along the column of your throat. She knows how sensitive you are there, how easily you’ll melt into her palms with a few well-placed kisses. She also knows how much Kate needs attention—and hates when others get it when she doesn’t.

When Kate finally meets your eyes, you feel one of Yelena’s hands move and then hear a faint click—followed by the sound of vibrations and Kate’s muffled moans.

“Stand right here with Daddy,” she whispers in your ear, voice low enough Kate can’t hear. “I want to see what she does when she realizes which one of you is about to get off.”

Kate’s close to your pussy, close enough that you can feel her heated breath against your core. She’s panting in that desperate way you’ve always loved, the kind that makes her face flushed. Her lips are swollen and red from rubbing them against the leather, making them extra kissable.

You love her like this, fucked out before even being fucked. But you wished you got to see her like this outside of Yelena’s intense punishments.

That’s when you hear another click, another vibrational hum joining the symphony of lewdness. With one arm around your middle to keep you upright, the other grabs the vibrator and runs the head over your covered, unsuspecting clit.

“Oh!” You’re caught by surprise, wrapping your shirt in your fists as an alternative to grabbing something for balance. You’re able to lean on Yelena, your back pushed against her chest. But there’s nothing else to keep you upright. “Oh Daddy!”

“That feel good, bunny?” she coos at you. You can feel her smiling into your heated skin, sometimes leaving small nips as she revels in giving you pleasure.

You suck your bottom lip between your teeth as she presses harder, still making those large, slow circles meant to tease you. The nods you give her are quick, frenzied. All you want to do for her is find the nearest tall surface and bend yourself over it, pulling your soaked panties down your trembling thighs to give her free access to your dripping center. You want her to fuck you in the hard, fast, rough way you liked; the kind that left you struggling to walk the next day.

When you don’t reply immediately, she decreases the speed.

“No,” you whimper, grinding your hips down as best you can. “Daddy no, no, no please don’t please!”

“Then answer me, bunny,” she responds. “Don’t want you to end up like puppy here, do you?”

While a keen ear could hear it immediately, you’re too fucked out already to tell that the sybian Kate’s riding is on the setting that rotates through intensities. It never stays on the higher settings long enough for her to cum, but never gets low enough to give her any sort of relief.

“Yes, Daddy!” It’s hard to form words, your speech speeding up as the vibe rolls over your clit. “Yes, fuck Daddy it feels so good.”

“Good, bunny. I’m glad.”

You think she’s going to let you cum now, going to press the vibe as hard as she can into your aching center. But she doesn’t—she just continues her cycle, not telling you she’s timing them so you and Kate are on opposite settings. When one of you is moaning, the other is begging for more. Yelena revels in making the two of you play off of each other, forcing the two of you to intersect in ways she orchestrates.

“You look so pretty, bunny,” she coos, her eyes flitting between both of you. “Doesn’t our little bunny look pretty, baby?”

Kate tries to say something, but it dies as something muffled by the material still in her mouth. Still, she continues to try, the mumbled words sounding more and more desperate as she continues. You assume you look like a mirror of her—same fuzzy brain leading to the same pleading eyes and choked cries.

“Puppy, do you want something?” Yelena’s words are coated in the fake-caring tone that sends another wave of heat through your abdomen. A noise that sounds something close to a “yes” comes from Kate’s throat.

Yelena just tuts. “You need to tell me what you want, puppy.”

Kate whimpers, drool starting to pool at the sides of her mouth. Tears, too, are now flooding her cheeks.

Yelena’s smile is sinister, a light laugh bracketing her words. “Oh, that’s right, isn’t it? You lost that privilege when you decided to be a stupid brat and disobey a simple command. I trained you better than that, puppy.”

The desperate brunette couldn’t defend herself if she wanted to. Yelena’s always been a domme with high standards, standards she’s always communicated clearly and effectively. Kate has just…always liked to push buttons, the envelope, boundaries. Anything she thought she could defy, she would.

But Yelena still loved her, always providing the punishments appropriate. There was never a challenge she couldn’t meet, and Kate loved her in return.

“Are you willing to drop it now?”

Kate blinks at her once, twice. Then nods.

Defeat, Yelena thinks, always tastes just as good as she predicts.

“Then drop it.”

For the first time that day, Kate does what she is told without a fight. She doesn’t realize how sore her jaw is until she’s finally able to move it around, the muscles resisting the stretch.

“Do you want to come now?”

Kate nods, the words a little garbled because of her jaw. “Yes, please Daddy.”

Yelena doesn’t respond to her, instead turning to you.

“Go ahead and cum, bunny. I’ll hold you, don’t worry.”

Her permission is all you need, crying out as the avalanche of gratification floods your veins. The white-hot euphoria burns your fingertips, Yelena’s strength able to keep you from falling on your face. She turns the vibe down as your orgasm succeeds, slowly pulling you from the euphoric edge.

“Such a good girl for me,” she says, holding you to her as you pant. “Such a good little pet for Daddy.”

When your breathing finally evens out, she slowly lowers you to the ground. She’s wearing the same sweatpants she was last night, the soft fabric a welcome pillow as you lean against her. They smell like her, too, like the cologne she wears even though she works from home and the honey shampoo she likes. You drink in the comfort of being near her, of being enveloped by her.

Yelena pets your hair as she speaks once more. “I want you to cum while eating our perfect little bunny out,” she says. “Can you do that? Or do you want to go to bed without an orgasm?”

“I-“ you watch as Kate grinds against the toy, her pussy so slick you can see her wetness seeping over the silicone bit of the sybian. It catches the light, and your fried brain is mesmerized by the sight. “Yes, Daddy. Please let me eat our Bunny’s pussy while I cum.”

“Good girl.”

Yelena picks you up and moves you into position, pushing your shirt up and your panties down. You don’t have to think or do anything but stand there, leaning on her for balance as Kate licks up your weeping slit.

The angle is awkward for both of you. Every time Kate presses herself to you, she has to hold her breath—which can never hold long enough for you to get anywhere close to your peak. Yelena makes a mental note to try this again if she ever wanted to edge you, especially since Kate loves a little breathplay now and then.

Despite all of this, though, it’s easy, for both of you to lose yourself to the pleasure, and so you do. You don’t think about the strain in your knees, or how dry your mouth feels. Kate doesn’t think about how sore she’s going to be tomorrow from her muscles tensing so often, or the fact her cunt aches in that way Yelena’s only been able to draw out of her. All you can think about is the feeling of Kate’s tongue lapping at your soaked folds; all Kate can think about is how much she loves drawing those little gasps out of you she loves so much.

“Such perfect pets,” Yelena murmurs. One hand is threaded through Kate’s hair, the other reaching around your waist to palm at your ass. “So good to each other...”

She remembers, vividly, when the two of you couldn’t seem to stop hating each other. There were fights and so much bickering that drove Yelena insane. In the end, an extra extra large crate; an extra, extra short leash attached to both of your collars; and a few overstimulation sessions got you two to get along quite well.

It’s good—so good—and all your fucked-out brain can do is babble nonsensically. Her movements are jerky and mistimed, but with how sensitive you are, it really doesn’t matter.

Kate finally cums a few minutes later, moaning lowly into your cunt. Her whole body shakes with each breath, her chest red hot from exertion. Ecstasy flows between the two of you, settling on your skin like glitter.

“You okay?”

Both of you nod. Kate’s face is covered in your wetness, the same wetness that drenches your thighs.

Yelena watches you both for a second the same way hunters monitor their kill even after they’ve hit the ground. There’s something special about knowing she’s the one who did this—who set the scene where both of you finished so worn out that neither of you could do anything else but fall to the floor in exhaustion.

But she’s a sadist, not a monster, and so once she’s had her moment of fun, she carries you to the couch before untying Kate. The ropes have made beautiful indents in her pale skin, and Yelena can’t wait to trace them once all three of you are cuddled up in bed. Yelena carries Kate so you two can lay together as she checks the minifridge in the bedroom, making sure there are enough water bottles and light snacks to last you until you can eat something more substantial. After making sure the covers are in the right order (you’re ridiculously picky), and the heated blanket is on its lowest setting (Kate always gets cold, but hates being too hot), she returns to find the both of you cuddled into each other like newborn puppies.

Fuck, she thinks. She always feels bad moving either of you once you’re snuggled up and comfortable, let alone when you’re all cozy together.

But Yelena also knows the couch definitely isn’t big enough for the two of you, and you’re already going to be sore tomorrow, and there are no blankets, and there isn’t any room for her in the mix of all of this. So, partially selflessly, partially completely selfishly, she slowly detangles the two of you. It’s a mess of limbs reminiscence of a tangled pair of earbuds, but somehow she manages to free you from each other and carry you up to bed one by one (Yelena’s strong, but she’s definitely not strong enough to carry both of you at once, unfortunately). You’re on the right side of the California King with Kate on the left, leaving a big enough space that you can’t find the other one and tangle back up again. Once both of you has consumed a full water bottle’s worth of water and are wearing clean shirts to sleep in, Yelena finally crawls under the covers to join the both of you.

“I love you both,” she says as each of you cuddles into her chest. You prefer resting your head in the crook of her neck, while Kate prefers to be face first into her chest. Even half asleep, Kate’s always a little obsessed with Yelena’s tits. “Even when you act like spoiled little princesses.”

And she does, truly. She loves Kate even when she bites her out of nowhere, and she loves you even when you go along with Kate’s ridiculous schemes. She loves Kate even when she refuses to just ask for what she wants, and she loves you when you beg for whatever Yelena’s willing to give you. She even loves you when you snore ever so lightly right into your ear, the sound lulling her into a deep sleep.

#yelena belova x reader #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x yelena belova x reader #lukis does commissions #lukis writes stuff

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