#bra womens inner wear images

[glamzlife]

[renlyslittlerose]

Kinktober Day 30 - Under-Negotiated / Lingerie

For @tideswept ~ 💗

Under the Guise - 3,476 Rating: E Content: Established Relationship / Explicit Sexual Content / Lingerie / Anakin Skywalker Wears Lingerie / Oral Sex / Dry Humping / Under-negotiated Kink / Basically Anakin surprises Obi-Wan / Mild Feminization / Dirty Talk

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After a decade of living, training, and working alongside Obi-Wan, Anakin was fairly certain he knew everything there was to know about his Master. He knew that he preferred green tea over black, enjoyed grounded non-fiction over anything fantastical, overheated quickly but never seemed to get cold, and hated the taste of a particular green herb from Kashyyyk that he insisted tasted like soap. He disliked the initial burst into light speed, preferred opera to musicals, and could knock a man flat on his back with a single punch.

And he liked when Anakin sat on his lap, adored the scent of Anakin’s inner thighs after they’d fucked, and curled his toes and babbled like a mad-man when Anakin nuzzled the space just behind his ear.

Anakin knew everything.

Which was why it came as a surprise when he ‘accidentally’ stumbled upon a hidden folder in Obi-Wan’s datapad that contained multiple images of beautiful men in silk lingerie.

They were mixed in with other images of young men and women in varying states of undress, nothing too out of the ordinary save for the fact that Obi-Wan Kenobi had a smutty picture collection on his data-pad. But there was definitely a theme; multiple men in different sorts of lingerie, the silk tight along the swells of their asses and the bulge of their cocks, some with bras that held tight against their broad, flat chests.

As soon as Anakin had shed his shock and quelled his jealousy, he came to the realization that he had to do something about this newfound knowledge.

Obi-Wan would never admit to it, of course, even when provided with the clear evidence. He’d try to turn things around and accuse Anakin of snooping in things he shouldn’t have been, which Anakin would have agreed with were it not for the fact that Obi-Wan was supposed to share everything with him. They were a team - the team - and they shouldn’t keep secrets from one another.

But Anakin couldn’t let this go. He refused to. Obi-Wan having a thing for men in lingerie made from women both amused and excited Anakin, the thought of surprising him with his own pair of frilly underwear too good to pass up.

It could backfire. In fact, it probably would backfire. Anakin would find a way to mess it up. He may have been graceful on the combat field, a savant when it came to communing with the Force, and the supposed Chosen One, but where he excelled at physical prowess he lacked in social graces. He said the wrong things, looked at people the wrong way, engaged with his emotions in the wrong way.

But he had to do this, even if Obi-Wan kicked his teeth in after he found out how he knew about his obsession with silk panties.

XXX

He’d gone to Padmé for help, of course. Next on the list of no social abilities came Anakin’s ineptitude at shopping for clothes. He tried to keep his reasons for needing lingerie vague but Padmé immediately sniffed him out, her smile sharp and dragged him to her favourite shop in the upper levels of Coruscant. He followed behind her as she plucked various pieces from the curated shelves, picking different colours and motifs while deliberately avoiding the blacks and dark greys.

‘If we’re doing this, I’m going to get you into some colour for a change,’ she said as she eyed a bra the colour of sea-foam.

She ended up buying everything she picked out without having Anakin try them on, knowing that Anakin was quickly reaching his capacity for embarrassment. Of course her charity wasn’t entirely altruistic, and when they arrived back at her apartment she made him show off his new collection.

Anakin would be lying if he said the silk didn’t feel nice, and he’d also be lying if he said he didn’t like the look of the fabric and tight banding wrapped around his limbs and chest, muscles flexing beneath the soft material, a beautiful contrast that made Anakin feel… well, pretty. Padmé seemed to agree, appropriately praising him any time he came out with a new set of lingerie. Though her praises quickly turned into critiques of the lingerie themselves as she pushed things down and raised other things, removed garters and snipped off bows, appreciated one colour before decrying the next.

Eventually, after what felt like hours of stuffing his cock into a variety of tiny panties, they agreed on a set.

It was a dark red and made of silk and lace, the colour bringing out the golden copper tones of his skin and hair - or so Padmé claimed. The panties covered the swell of Anakin’s length and tucked tight beneath the curve of his ass, while the banding was pretty lace that mimicked a rose garden, flowers and vines framing his iliac crest, as well as plunging down the back to barely cover the top of Anakin’s cheeks. Garters hung down his thighs, unattached and loose flowing, but Padmé assured Anakin that stockings would be a little too much.

At least for this go-round.

The bra was made just out of the lace material, the flowers stretched out along his pecks, shifting and warping with each deep breath Anakin took. The straps cut into the meat of his shoulders but Padmé insisted it was a good look, his masculine stature contrasting with the feminine lingerie - a contrast that Padmé insisted was the main appeal. The material barely hid Anakin’s nipples, the pink nipple and dusty areola visible beneath the dark red material, catching Anakin’s attention as he admired himself in the mirror. He was both hidden and exposed, on full-display and yet still teasing.

Maybe there was something to it all.

XXX

He had to wait a few weeks before he could spring his trap. Obi-Wan had been sent away on a diplomatic mission to one of the Republican planets in a bid to prevent them from switching sides. It was a long and meandering time, Obi-Wan popping into their holo-calls with a tense grimace on his lips and a deep-set glower that swallowed up the twinkle in his eyes. When he finally did return all he wanted to do was sleep and relax, and so Anakin kept the panties and bra tucked away beneath his bed until Obi-Wan’s mood sweetened and the light in his eyes returned.

It was the fourth day back that Anakin put his plan into action.

Dressed in nothing but the lingerie he waited in Obi-Wan’s quarters, playing with the garter wrapped tight around his thigh as he stared at the door. He’d tried out a variety of poses over the course of the last ten minutes, at first lying on his stomach with his legs kicked up, before he spread out on his back, legs draped open and hands hung nonchalant over his head. Neither felt very honest.

It was, of course, when Anakin was halfway into a new pose, one foot hooked on to the side of the mattress while the other was planted on the floor, hands on his hips and expression more of a glower than a smile, that Obi-Wan stepped into his room.

“Anakin, I didn’t expect you to—”

Obi-Wan’s words died on his lips the moment he saw Anakin, his satchel full of datapads dropping to the floor with a clatter.

Forced to keep the pose he didn’t really like, Anakin cocked his hip out and smiled tensely at Obi-Wan. “Hey.” He almost added ‘sailor’ at the end, but decided against it. He felt ridiculous enough as it was.

Obi-Wan continued to stare at Anakin with wide-eyes, his mouth hung slack but with no words coming out, his tongue uncharacteristically tied. Anakin watched as a blush spread out across his cheeks and down his neck before it was covered up by his robes. Something pulsed in their bond, deep and heavy, and Anakin swallowed it down.

“Do you like it?” Anakin asked, suddenly unsure of everything. He’d never actually asked Obi-Wan if this was what he wanted.

What if it was all just an idle fantasy that he never actually wanted to experience, and that the reality was a poor substitute for Obi-Wan’s vivid and debauched imagination? Or what if Obi-Wan didn’t like Anakin in lingerie, preferring the models to his attempt? Or maybe he didn’t like the lingerie itself? Or perhaps the colour?

Obi-Wan remained silent, his gaze caught on Anakin’s groin, eyes dark.

“Talk to me, Obi-Wan, because you’re kind of—”

Obi-Wan surged forward then, quick like he was on the battlefield, and Anakin only had time to brace for impact before Obi-Wan was tackling him down onto the bed. He hit the mattress with a grunt, and let out a bark of surprise that was quickly swallowed up by Obi-Wan. His lips were hot, his pressure intense, tongue slick along the seam of Anakin’s lips as he immediately turned their embrace into something desperate and messy.

So maybe he didn’t entirely hate the colour. That was a relief.

Arching up into Obi-Wan’s desperate touch, Anakin groaned into the kiss as Obi-Wan started kneading his pecs, sliding the rough lace across his nipples, his skin breaking out into little bumps. Obi-Wan whimpered as they kissed, the sound unfamiliar and terribly arousing, sinking deep into Anakin’s groin as he pushed up and slid the silk material against the rough cotton of Obi-Wan’s robes.

“Force, Anakin,” Obi-Wan gasped as he finally pulled apart. His brows were furrowed, eyes already cloudy with lust, lips bright pink and shimmering with spit. He looked like desperation incarnate, already so pulled apart and undone.

The sight pleased Anakin, and he tilted his head to the side and draped his arms above his head, fingers tangling together as he flexed his muscles slightly. “Like what you see?”

Obi-Wan sat up slightly, his hands still firm along Anakin’s chest, weight steady as he admired Anakin. His eyes felt like fire, gaze picking and pulling Anakin apart, his grip tight along his pecs to the point where it almost hurt. Anakin moaned beneath him and arched up into the weight, desperate to feel all of it. Finally Obi-Wan relented with his grip, one hand sliding down to cup the side of his chest, fingers petting the silk that wrapped around his ribs, while the other slid beneath the strap on his shoulder, the rough brush of Obi-Wan’s knuckles pleasing.

“You’re a vision,” Obi-Wan said, his attention sliding back up to Anakin.

Their eyes locked, and Anakin tilted his chin slightly, goading Obi-Wan on to take more of him. Shifting his hips, he dragged Obi-Wan’s gaze back down lower, his eyes wandering down the plains of his stomach and further still. Obi-Wan’s weight shifted back so he was resting on Anakin’s thighs, exposing his clothed groin to him.

Obi-Wan moaned, his brows furrowing once again as he took in Anakin’s barely covered cock. The silk was already straining to contain him, the front stained with precome, Anakin already leaking profusely.

“You’re so wet, darling. Already sullying your panties with your need,” Obi-Wan tutted.

Anakin dropped his hands down to Obi-Wan’s thighs as they framed his own, squeezing the clothed muscles, making the corners of Obi-Wan’s jaw twitch. “Clean it up, then…”

Obi-Wan let out a soft growl and stood with the same abruptness he’d tackled Anakin earlier. Anakin watched with some amusement as Obi-Wan undressed, hands scrambling around his robes and belt, tossing them around the room. His boots almost sent him into a rage, a slurry of little swears slipping past his lips in his crisp Coruscantian accent, and Anakin almost took pity on him before he got the zippers undone himself and tossed his boots away.

Fully nude he turned back to Anakin, his cock thick and hard between his legs, bouncing slightly with each laboured breath. Anakin had never seen him quiet as undone as he was now, and he soaked in the vision as he played with one of the garters idly, his legs falling open to welcome Obi-Wan in. Obi-Wan accepted the invitation immediately, dropping down onto the bed between Anakin’s legs, cock pressed into the bedding as he hooked Anakin’s legs over his shoulders and immediately nuzzled his clothed taint.

Anakin let out a moan and arched back, fingers tangling in Obi-Wan’s hair as he dragged him closer and rubbed his silk-covered groin across Obi-Wan’s face. His breath was hot, the bridge of his nose pushing against Anakin’s balls, tongue sliding out to press against silk and skin. Obi-Wan moaned again, pitiful and delicious, and Anakin hooked his ankles together and held.

Kissing along his taint and licking the insides of his thighs, Obi-Wan soaked the material in quick order before raising his head up. One of Anakin’s balls had slipped out from the banding the harder he got, his cock pushing the material away, exposing him with each flutter of his heart and surge of blood through his veins. Obi-Wan gave Anakin little time to compose himself before he sucked at the head of his cock, licking the silk, making it wet with his spit.

The sensation of the soft silk combined with the pressure of Obi-Wan’s tongue was like nothing else, and Anakin let out a strangled sob as the pleasure rocked through him. Opening his eyes he dared to look down his body, watching the bra strain against his heaving chest, the stutter of his stomach as he breathed in and out, and finally to Obi-Wan was he mouthed his cock, wetting the dark material, making it look almost black with his spit.

Obi-Wan wore an expression that was both studious and delirious as he laved Anakin’s clothed cock with careful, deliberate attention, licking along the straining length before returning to the head, suckling on the tip to drag out more seed. It was incredible to see Obi-Wan’s lips wrapped around the pretty material, marring it with his lips and spit as he sucked Anakin off, cheeks hollowed and tongue flicking. He was grinding into the bed as he did so, his hips rocking in steady motions as he fucked the bedding, getting off on the sensation alone of having Anakin’s silk covered cock in his mouth.

Eventually it became too much, and Anakin tugged hard to get Obi-Wan to release him. Sitting up Obi-Wan brushed the corners of his mouth with his fingers, taking away the spit that coated his beard, making it shimmer under the low light in the room. They locked eyes, and Obi-Wan smiled at Anakin, lazy and sweet.

“You’re so good to me, Anakin,” he said as he collapsed on top of Anakin, teeth sharp along his collarbone and down his chest.

Pressing Anakin’s pecks together he licked between the shallow trench he’d made, rubbing the bristles of his bearded chin along Anakin’s skin. As he did this he thumbed Anakin’s nipples, rubbing the lace against the sensitive skin, sending little sparks of pleasure through Anakin. The rough brush of his beard and the lace against his nipples contrasted nicely with the slick warmth of his tongue as he licked Anakin’s pecs, coating his skin with his spit.

“Want to fuck my chest?” Anakin asked, already about to snap and give in.

“And sully your pretty lingerie?” Obi-Wan murmured. He rested his head on Anakin’s chest and peered up at him, eyes hazy with arousal, cheeks pink like a happy drunk.

“Yeah, exactly,” Anakin replied. He wasn’t sure if Obi-Wan wanted to get the lingerie dirty or not, but figured if he said or suggested the wrong thing, Obi-Wan would quietly and politely ignore the suggestion. “I want to see your cock rubbing against the silk, and have you come all over the lace. Make it real dirty - mark it as your own.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes darkened, his touch demanding. He sat up a little and ground his cock against Anakin’s still clothed one, the pair gasping. Looking back down his body, Anakin obsessed over the image of Obi-Wan’s bare cock, hard and slick, foreskin pulled back and precome spilling out against his own length, the front of the panties sticky and stained, his bulge barely contained.

Head ducked, Obi-Wan also admired the sight, his hands sliding down to grip the back of Anakin’s thighs, spreading him open further as he thrust his cock against Anakin’s underside. Running his mechno-hand through his hair, Anakin tugged at the curls and bit his bottom lip, holding back a hiss as Obi-Wan finally released his cock from the confines of the panties.

“You’re such an obscene boy,” Obi-Wan huffed out as he wrapped his hand around their cocks and started stroking them together. “Probably bought the smallest pair of panties you could find, didn’t you? Just enough to cover you up, but not enough to keep that pretty cock of yours hidden. One wrong move and you’d be falling out, wouldn’t you? The head of your cock would peek out from the edge, your balls hanging between the tight banding, everything on full display.”

Anakin moaned in response, his eyes squeezing shut as pleasure washed over him again and again, Obi-Wan’s words and Obi-Wan’s touch and Obi-Wan’s desperation filling him up until he had no choice but to spill over.

“You’d probably like that, wouldn’t you, darling? Showing yourself off to me, like some animal in heat.”

“Worked, didn’t it?”

Obi-Wan’s grip tightened, his pupils swallowing up what was left of his irises. “You know I could never resist you, Anakin. Draped in rags, I’d still want you.”

“Are you saying I didn’t have to go through all this effort?”

“No,” Obi-Wan said quickly. “The memory alone of your panties barely containing your cock, balls hung low, the straps tight against your muscle will get me off for years.”

“Gonna touch yourself thinking about me?” Anakin asked, straining as another blossom of pleasure flooded through him. “Think about my cock and wish it was in your mouth as you get off? Unable to stop yourself from grabbing your cock whenever you think about my hole, barely covered by a thin strip of silk?”

“Anakin…”

“You can take holo-pics after, if you want. I’ll get in any pose you want.”

“Any pose?”

“Any.”

“You’re such a filthy boy.”

Hearing the words filthy tumble from Obi-Wan’s parted lips made Anakin almost pass out from pure pleasure, and he ground his hips upward, seeking more pressure as he neared the ledge. “I’m close,” he huffed out.

Obi-Wan squeezed his length and cupped his balls, rubbing the sullied silk against them. That was all it took. He came with a shout, hips stuttering, mouth hung open, cock streaming ribbons of come across his groin and Obi-Wan’s own length. Tugging at his curls he pulled until pain skittered through him, mixing with the pleasure as he rode through his orgasm, desperate to experience it for as long as he could.

When he was done he collapsed on Obi-Wan’s lap and let out a satisfied groan. But his relaxation only lasted a moment before Obi-Wan was moving again, dropping Anakin’s hips back down onto the bed before he climbed on top of him and straddled his chest. Opening his eyes, he locked them with Obi-Wan and reached down to squeeze his pecs together. Obi-Wan grasped his cock and slipped it along the middle of the bra, straining the material around Anakin’s chest.

“C’mon, fuck my tits,” Anakin said, causing Obi-Wan’s cock to drool profusely.

With one hand Obi-Wan placed it over his cock, creating a sealed off seam that he could fuck into, cock sliding along the trench between Anakin’s pecs and the underside of his hand. With his other hand he grasped the back of Anakin’s head, grip tight in his curls as he made him look at the sight before him. Obi-Wan’s cock peeked out with each hurried thrust, the head red and slick with seed, the shaft heavy and hot along Anakin’s skin, balls rocking back and forth as they dragged across Anakin’s sternum. He gasped as Obi-Wan tugged at his curls, his weight heavy across his form, the scent of his sex thick in his nose and the back of his throat.

A few more desperate thrusts and Obi-Wan was coming, thick ribbons of come hitting Anakin’s chest and neck, a few streaks landing on his lips which he licked up. Obi-Wan shifted his weight and held his cock, directing some of the come to the bra, spreading his seed along the lace. When he was done he ducked his head and started cleaning Anakin up, tongue hot and broad across his chest as he licked up his mess, sucking it off of the bra.

And then he collapsed, head cradled on Anakin’s chest as he eased into his afterglow.

Hugging Obi-Wan close, Anakin pet the back of his head and stared up at the ceiling. The tightness of the lingerie was starting to become uncomfortable but he didn’t move away, contented to remain beneath Obi-Wan.

A kiss was applied to his sternum, followed by another further up, until Obi-Wan was level with Anakin.

“Hi,” he mumbled as he brushed Obi-Wan’s bang from his brow.

“Hullo.” He returned the small smile and cupped Anakin’s cheek, his touch now gentle. “I see you found my private folder on my datapad.”

Anakin sighed. He’d almost gotten away with it, too.

[scorkaji]

[IMAGE ID: A digital drawing of Honkai: Star Rail's Stelle. She is depicted as shritless and slightly muscular in a dark grey sports bra, with a jagged scar on her lower torso leading into her bra. She wears her grey jacket wrapped around her waist, and her left thumb is pointing towards her face, saying in gold text with white borders: "You see cocolia really wanted me dead but i had a date with destiny that night. destiny was aluminum, smelly, and had shinies." Stelle appears to be not quite human, with a gold inner mouth, nonbelly button, and her scar being gold with stars in it.]

muscular women for 2024!

[angrypaperearthquake-tbbb-main]

Alright, so I'm going to be a little vulnerable for a minute.

For the first time since high school (I'm 27), I felt self-conscious about my body. You see, I had an epiphany my sophomore year where I finally realized I liked how I looked. I didn't care what boys thought or whether or not anyone looked at me that way. I, of course, didn't have a single boyfriend in high school, but they were all stupid anyway so I didn't miss out on much.

My original body self-consciousness came from my breasts, which are very small. They're considered a AAA, which is the smallest US bra size measurement without being non-existent. I wear bralettes just to feel normal. No one knows why they never grew out. No one in my immediate or extended biological family has this size, it's just me. And in a society where a woman's worth is judged on "bust" and "butt", it was a nightmare.

My other body self-consciousness came from my protruding hip bones. I'm skinny. Almost unhealthily skinny, but not by choice. My collarbones are deep, my spine is raised across my back, and my hip bones poke out. I can never seem to get any weight to cling to them. I've always wanted a slim-fitting black evening gown, but every time I've tried one on, I looked like a skeleton. Nobody wants "bone-handles", so I just wore clothes that hid them.

Fast forward past 14 years worth of body positivity and a healthy self-image to tonight. I looked fabulous in my forest green turtleneck, dark blue skinny jeans, and chocolate brown suede boots, with my curly hair bouncing just below my shoulders. However, when I took it all off, what was underneath made me sigh. All I saw were my small breasts and my hip bones...

I felt small, insignificant, and undesirable all at the same time. I know that beauty isn't everything, but sometimes I feel like my identity as a women is somehow less because my breasts are so small. That men pass me over because society has taught them that breasts are what make a women beautiful. It's frustrating and irritating.

I'm not posting this for sympathy or attention. I'm posting this because sometimes we have to be vulnerable with ourselves and admit when we feel less than. Because there is power in the admission of what feel on the inside. When we keep our feelings, doubts, and insecurities locked inside our minds and hearts, it breeds inner-turmoil, anxiety, and depression. So speak your insecurities out and release them into the wind.

*sigh* I feel much better now.

[sparkoneupforme]

Not my outfits from today but posting two inspirational outfits I saw in Instagram ads. First is a body that I feel like looks like mine. Lately I’ve been realizing that I’ve been trying to hide my breasts yet I look at other women who accentuate and show theirs off with jealousy. I have boobs and they’re not small and if I wore low cut or a good bra they would look like that! I also love her curvy soft hips and legs cause mine look like that. Why do I look at other women who have bodies like mine and admire them but shame my own body in the mirror. It’s a good lesson

The second image is just a cool aesthetic and vibe I’ve always struggled with my feminine expression because I hold these rigid rules in my head from who knows where. Skirts = girly and girly = bad. But this outfit is so cool and it’s feminine but also super edgy and cool and again I look at women who dress like this and say to myself wow I could never look that good but the thing is I think I CAN. I just don’t try. And that’s the whole point, these ladies are putting effort into themselves. The hair and makeup and wearing clothes that suit them. It’s not effortless beauty but it makes them so gorgeous and if I want to hone that magic and energy like they do IT TAKES EFFOrt

I think I stopped putting effort in because I was around a lot of people who don’t put effort in. I was around a lot of guys and lost touch with my femenine and my artistic side working in a male dominated work place in an industry I don’t connect to. But now I’m working on surrounding myself with people and content that inspire me to express myself and live authentically and be FUN!

Last to live without judgement of myself or others. Judgement is a reflection of your inner thoughts. If you’re afraid of others judging you that’s a big mirror wake up call. You only fear what you think others are thinking and you can’t read minds you can only project your inner thoughts (unless someone is blatantly telling you or expressing something directly toward you)

Anyway there’s some thoughts and shit for today yay

[fitaumaxs]

Plus size bra for women

Firstly we have to understand what a plus size bra is. In fact it's not something consensual because it is very ambiguous to say what we have the right size determinates for a plus size bra. We cannot say that it's only up from the D size cup that it's a full size bra. According to many brands specialized in plus bra sizes, we can consider it from the size 32D. The structure bra is meant and made to suit various breast sizes, and in various specialized brands make quite noticeable changes to make it suit a bigger chest. The same bra model is worked separately size by size and changed to grow in size giving the same support to the chest that the woman needs. From the introduction of the lateral side, inner waist reinforcement, to the thickness of the wired, everything is designed in accordance to the needs of women's chest supporting. As Ting  says the growth in average size bra demonstrates the propensity to the plus size bra market. However, the plus size bra consumer is a consumer that doesn’t renounce the new trends, and wants a fashionable image, new kinds of alternative fabrics and innovations of production like plus molded cups. The middle aged women, average or plus size bra users, need proper support for their posture and their breast health . In this article, we test different kind of bras in middle aged women and we examine the fitting of them. A good fitting plus size bra reveals a comfort and support quality that constitutes a better shape for sagging because of the aging suspensory ligaments of cooper. But the truth is that the costume plus size bra, at present, is for young women who have narrow backs and big chests. Therefore it's not just for middle aged women that this study is concerned. The results can be useful for other target ages. The most important thing is the comfort that we can guarantee with the correct size bra.

Women of all sizes struggle to find the perfect fit, but great plus-size bras can be particularly tricky to track down."The bra industry tends to generalize weight with size, and for Plus size bra for women , that means starting with a general sense of your size is key," Athena Kasvikis, founder of Behave Bras, told us. "By this I mean your general measurements and how they equate to cup and band sizes. Then, you're prepared to start hunting for how bras work for you based on your preferences."We all tend to get frustrated when we discover that we're multiple sizes in different brands, but the pro recommends paying more attention to how something feels than what the label says."I personally wear a few different cup sizes in different brands because no two brands run the same. What I'm not concerned with though is not what the size tag says, but how it fits and flatters my unique body,"

[barnesbabee]

‘Yes, Mr.Choi’ || C.S [1]

Summary: Most bosses give you work, this one however got you worked up.

Pairing: Choi San x Reader

Words: A bunch

Genre: Smut

A/N: There’s some harsh shit here

ᴄʀ: ʙᴀʀɴᴇꜱʙᴀʙᴇᴇ

[1] [2] [ꜰɪɴᴀʟ]

 You knew the sparkle in his eyes wasn’t because the meeting had gone well, you knew the praises weren’t towards your work and when he asked you to work overtime you knew damn well you’d be touching no papers.

  You held the door open for all of the owners of other companies to exit the big room where the reunion had happened. As your boss passed by you he made sure to give your ass a harsh squeeze, before bidding goodbye to the other men.

  Choi San was a shameless man, he fucked, he partied, he broke women’s hearts... But he was meticulous about everything he did, you’d never find any dirt on his name. Every move of his was calculated to a point where he’d live his life with his messed up version of fun while maintaining this perfect profile to the public eye. He was truly something else...

  Of course you knew nothing about this when you were interviewed for the job. You sent multiple applications to several companies and San’s was the only one who happened to accept you. 

 On the very first day of your job the word around was that Mr. Choi was mad someone had hired a personal assistant for him without his consultation, so when you were called to his office, your original nervousness multiplied and spread wherever it could. Little did you know, he had originally called you in to fire you. He liked to take matters into his own hands, he didn’t need a fucking assistant. But the second you came in his big office surrounded by large glass windows and he laid eyes on you, it all changed. His burning look examined your figure (that was certainly petite next to his) and he smirked. You didn’t know what that meant, but you would soon find out. 

  He had asked you to stay over and do some “extra work” for him for the first time, and to show your interest in the job, you stayed. You were organizing files alphabetically in his office when he slowly walked behind you and grasped your hips, pushing you back slowly, so your body was pressing against his.

  “You know Y/N, you have such a beautiful voice,” one of the man’s hands traveled up your body, and he twirled a strand of your hair around his finger as his lips got closer to your ear “I bet it would sound so much better calling for my name.”

  In your head, the situation sounded so messed up... Having sex with your boss?

  But your skin burned under his touch and you couldn’t help but melt at his words. He spun you around slowly so you’d be facing him. San looked you in the eye and he chuckled.

  “Am I making you nervous?” He asked.

  The terrified yet excited look on your face had given you away for sure. You looked away shyly and nodded. 

  The boss grabbed your chin, making you look him in the eye and started by kissing your jaw, your cheek and finally, the corner of your mouth.

  “Don’t worry,” he said with a sly smile “your boss won’t fire you if he finds out.”

  You chuckled slightly at his joke, which made you feel more comfortable, and that’s how Choi San first got you. And you couldn’t lie, you loved it. You loved the thrill of being taken by your boss after a long day of work. You loved seeing his amazing body craving for your own. You loved the feeling of you coming all over him while he pulled your hair or choked you with those large hands of his.

  And today was no different, you only had a couple hours until everyone went home, but you were growing impatient. You yearned for his attention as he had been too busy for almost two weeks now, so when he asked you to “work overtime” it was hard to hide your excitement.

  You couldn’t stop looking at the watch, while biting your lip, and, by pure luck, a colleague of yours handed you paperwork that needed Mr. Choi’s approval, so you eagerly made your way to his office and knocked on his door, waiting for a response.

 Once you heard the familiar ‘yes’ come from the inside, you went in and closed the door behind you.

  “Mr. Choi, I need you to sign these release forms for Mr. Park please.” 

  He hummed and you put the papers in front of him, then proceeding to cross your arms as you waited for his signature, purposely accentuating your breasts

  You watched as your boss took a quick look at everything and signed finally. When he handed you the papers back however, his eyes got stuck on your chest and he chuckled slightly, knowing exactly what you were doing.

  “Thank you so much, Mr. Choi.” You thanked and winked before leaving the office.

  The both of you counted the seconds until everyone left, and once the last co-worker of yours left, you heard the door to his office open, and you knew exactly what to do.

  You unbuttoned a couple more buttons from your shirt and stripped from your panties, wanting to give him a little surprise once he went under your skirt. 

  When you entered the room you saw the most ethereal image you had ever laid eyes on: San was leaning on the window, whiskey cup in his hand, with his dark hair still neatly combed back. He had lost his tie and jacket somewhere in the room and his shirt was buttoned down as much as yours while the sleeves were rolled up. You’d always loved a man in a suit, and this one certainly didn’t disappoint. His face was lit up by the moonlight, and he looked as appealing as ever.

   “Mr. Choi?” You called.

  He looked at you, acknowledging your presence, and smirked. The man put down his drink and called you over with his index finger. You obliged and made your way over to him, cupping his cheeks while he grabbed your waist and brought it to his own.  

  He connected your lips, and he made sure to skip all the “soft” steps. With Choi San everything was intense, from the first to the last second. He started with a rough kiss right from the beginning, tugging on your bottom lip from time to time.

  San’s hands traveled to your ass and grabbed it harshly.

   “You’ve been a bad girl, hm? Teasing me while I’m working, making me think about fucking you raw... You know what bad girls get right?”

   “They get punished...” You replied breathlessly as you tilted your head back, giving him access to your neck.

  He nibbled on your soft skin and bit some spots, making sure they would leave a mark.

   “That’s right baby, and should I punish you?” 

   “Yes please Mr. Choi.” You begged.

  He smirked onto your skin as his hands skillfully undid the rest of your buttons and threw the shirt somewhere. His lips attacked your neck once more as his hands sneaked around your body and reached for your bra, unclasping it slowly, and removing it off of you.

  Your boss admired your figure for a second. Your lips were plump and bruised from the harsh makeout session, the marks on your neck were starting to show, your breathing was uneven and your eyes glistened, for him. The man had the darkest expression on his face, he was hungry for you. 

  San pushed you back so you could lean against his wooden desk. One of his hands grabbed your breast violently and played with it while his mouth sucked on the other. You moaned quietly at the contact of his mouth with your sensitive skin, and he took that as a sign to make it rougher.

  His free hand that had been settling on your thigh started making its way up your leg, caressing your inner thigh and then eventually making contact with your core. Once he did however, his lips pulled away from your skin making you groan.

  “Oh? What’s this? My pretty baby decided to ditch her panties?” He asked wearing a smirk.

  “I wanted to surprise you Mr. Choi.” You replied innocently.

  The man chuckled and pulled your skirt up. He then grabbed your hips and made you sit on the desk you were leaning on. 

  You watched as he knelt and attached his lips to your inner thighs, leaving a trail of small kissed up your leg until he reached your womanhood. He teased you by kissing every little spot around it.

  “Please, please Mr. Choi...” You begged.

  You know he couldn’t resist you begging for him, and he quickly moved his lips to suck on your clit while two of his fingers entered you. You moaned his name, and the small sounds and whimpers became stronger and more frequent as he added a third finger and sped up the pace.

  “Do you want to come baby? Hm?” He asked looking up at you.

  One of your hands supported your body and the other was tangled in his hair.

  “Yes, yes please I want to come.”

  He instantly pulled out his fingers and licked them clean, causing you to whine once more at the loss of contact.

  San stood back up and grabbed your jaw harshly, bringing your face dangerously close to his.

  “Bad girls don’t get to come.” 

  The sentence sent shivers down your spine. He connected your lips in another harsh kiss, and you took the time to undress him from his shirt and then palm his already hardened member through his suit pants. San groaned into the kiss, and nothing turned you on more than hearing that man moan and groan because of the way you touched him.

  He was quick to undress his lower half, then bringing your hand to wrap around his dick. You pumped him for a couple of seconds as he kissed you, before placing his tip at your entrance. 

  San was about to ask you something, but once he saw the neediness in your face, he just smirked for the nth time and thrust in you slowly. 

  You gripped his biceps and buried your head in the crook of his neck. One of his hands held your waist while the other rested on your back. His slow thrusts became violent and fast from one second to the other, and it drove you crazy. You threw your head back and cried out his name as your nails dug into the skin of his arms.

  “Fuck, you feel so good, so tight around my cock baby...” He praised you.

  His hand caressed your body as it made its way from your back to your neck to choked you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you made a huge effort to not come.

 “Mr. Choi can I please come?” You begged.

 You heard him chuckle followed by a harsh slap to your ass and you knew your request was about to be denied.

 “Oh no princess, you don’t get to come just yet.”

 He pulled out and made you stand up, so he could turn you around and fuck you from behind. You spread your legs for him and supported yourself on the desk with your elbows, lusting for what was about to come.

 San did not pity as he entered you harshly and slammed in and out of you. He grabbed your hips to give his movements more stability. His praises, occasional spanks and small groans were driving you crazy, and by the way your legs started to tremble he could tell you wanted to come.

 “You want to come baby girl? You want to come on my dick?”

  “Oh my God yes Mr. Choi!” You yelled, dragging your fingernails through the desk.

  “Come for me then.” 

  As soon as he gave you the permission you came, with a loud moan for his name. 

  He grabbed your ass and with a few more thrusts and the feeling of you clenching around him sent the man over the edge.

  The room was dead silent. All the two of you could hear were your heavy breaths and the sound of San’s chair creaking as he sat on it. 

  You gathered your items and quickly got dressed. As you opened the door to leave his office you looked over your shoulder.

   “Goodnight Mr. Choi.”

  He usually didn’t reply, he’d just let you leave as he’d sip on his whiskey, but tonight, just as you started closing the door behind you, you heard a small ‘Goodnight Miss Y/N’ and you wished that, for once, you didn’t have to leave.

[mycouchpullsoutbutidont]

Need to write all this down because I just stared into space for a solid 30 min just dreaming about this scenario / potential fanart comic that I could draw of Ben x Devi (I’ve been obsessing over them for the past couple of days and it’s probably due to me not having good dick since god knows forever)

(Draft)

So the comic will start off with Devi being sort of upset and horny, reminiscing about her interaction with Paxton - maybe a really hot makeout sesh and they’re about to have sex - except last minute, Devi gets cold feet and it’s sexually frustrating for Paxton. So Devi is hella embarrassed and mad at herself for pulling back. She tries to initiate again, but Paxton is just like, “forget it, you’re not ready,” and Devi is like “no, I want it.” And Paxton pauses, looks at her, and shakes his head like “no, you’re not. It’s okay. I don’t want you to feel pressured to do something you’re not ready for.” Which Devi feels insulted by and is terribly sorry. Paxton just smiles and kisses her on the forehead and is like, “I think I should drop you off. It’s getting late.”

End daydream. Devi reels in secondhand embarrassment and is mad at herself for stopping. She vows not to do that again and, of course, in typical Devi fashion, she thinks to herself, “well, if we end up having sex the next time we makeout, I better do my due diligence and research into how to properly have sex.”

And what other way to learn about something than to study up on it?

She begins thinking about how she could do her research. She’s studied anatomy before and knows the basics - the testicles, the glans, urethra, sperm, prostate, yadda yadda. And she’s taken health class and sexual education on how to put on condoms (on bananas- nonetheless - San Fernando valley had pretty liberal sex ed).

But she’s never seen what sex looked like. Never heard it. Never smelled it. Never experienced it from afar or visually.

That’s when she thought of it - porn.

She goes to her room, opens up her laptop, and googles “porn.” Search results pop up, and she catches glimpse of some of the keywords.

“Perky oiled brunette shoves two cocks in both holes”

“Slut sucks slobbers on big veiny dick”

“Curvy sexy ebony rides and squirts before getting facial”

The ache in her groin gnawed even more and—did she just twitch down there? With her blood rushing to her cheeks and between her legs with each horny, perverted word that her eyes came across, her fingers tremble and her body - her breasts - feels like it’s tingling, aching and needing to be roughly handled.

Nervous and horny, she clicks on the first one: porn hub.

She enters a site of orange and black - a pop up window asks if she’s 18 or older. She hesitates, feeling dirty and corrupt. She clicks on enter.

Squares of images lined in a grid populate, organized by category. She skims the words - “Anal”, “BBW,”“Cumshot,” “Compilations”—the list went on and on.

One of the categories catches her eye: “Desi.”

It was both laughable and eye-opening to see that category. A category just for Indian women? She was both amazed and flattered, and for just a brief moment, she wondered if her ancestors could see her.

Her father, she thinks.

Oh god, why is she thinking of him all of a sudden.

Ashamed, she shakes her head, exits out of the window, and closes her laptop. A cool chill runs down her spine, calming her excitement, chilling the pulsating heat that had pooled between her legs. She’s embarrassed for thinking of her dead father and for even thinking of looking up porn. She’s ashamed and pushes her laptop away, now doubly frustrated at herself and for still being sexually pent up. She gets up to grab water in the kitchen, hoping the ice cold water will help temper her aching need.

The doorbell rings.

Devi’s ears perk, and she furrows her brows. Who could this be, she thinks, as she ran down the stairs, walking to the door to peep through the hole.

She gasps, “oh crap.”

It’s Ben!

“Shoot, I forgot!”

Ben was supposed to come over to work on a history project with her - and have dinner, she remembers, since she told her mom and her mom insisted.

“Ah, yes Ben! I remember that boy with the massive pimple on his face who cried in my office!” Devi smirks at Nalini’s comment but then remembers, dammit, why did her mom also want him for dinner?

She opens the door, deepens her frown, a blush creeping on her face as she locks her brown eyes with light blue ones.

“Sup, loser,” Ben says, and Devi almost loses her blush except he smirks, a twinkle in his eye, and a slightly lifted brow. Devi’s eyes trail down over his shirt which clings to his pecs and biceps, and she feels the blush coming back.

And then she notices his strong arms and hair and veins—

“Fuck you,” she says, rolling her eyes, quickly turning her back against him so he doesn’t see her blush harder.

Jeez, what’s wrong with her today? Devi thought (as well as Ben). Why was she so god damn horny?

“What’s your problem, David?” Ben asks. He looks around Devi’s living room. “Where’s your mom?”

Devi shrugs. “Probably at work with her coworkers. Mom’s trying to bring more fun and benefits to motivate them, she claims.”

“Ah, that explains it.” Ben is a little relieved since Devi’s mom was a tough one to please. But, he knew that Nalini had a soft spot for him. (Or, at least he had a 95% confidence level in that thought).

“Actually, kanna, I’m just finish up cooking dinner here with Kamala,” Nalini chimed.

Ben and Devi snapped their heads towards the direction of the kitchen where Nalini and Kamala were cleaning up.

“And if you had helped me like you should have done, you’d know that I was busy cooking up aloo gobi dosas before leaving for my work event later tonight.”

Ben sniffed deeply, the aroma of ghee and asafetida and cumin wafting in the air. How did Devi not notice her mom was cooking with the delicious smells dancing in her home?

“S-sorry mom, I forgot. I just have been feeling a bit out of it today,” Devi replies sheepishly. “Kind of feel hot.” Which was true. Something was terribly wrong with her today for some reason. It felt like there was this growing ache down in her groin that needed to be filled, and with each step she took, every friction against her clit would send shivers of pleasure all over her body.

Before Ben could react, Nalini immediately runs to Devi’s side and places the back of her hand on Devi’s forehead.

“Hm,” Nalini scrunches her brows. “I don’t feel a fever, but you do have a slight blush. Devi, if you’re feeling sick, please don’t get us all sick and go to your room. You should’ve told us and Ben earl—“

“I’m not sick!” Devi blurts, shaking her head. Nalini is taken aback.

“I- I guess,” Devi lowers her voice, trying to come up with an excuse for why she was dickstracted—er, distracted.

“I feel burnt out from studying for AP physics and AP calculus this week,” Devi lies.

“Amateur,” Ben scoffs, smirking. He looks at Devi who snaps to look, looking both mad and flustered, her cheeks tinted slightly redder than normal. It was enough to wipe the smirk off his face. Was she okay?

“I’m not letting you show me up, you jerk!”

Yeah, she was okay, he thought.

“Devi!” Nalini’s jaw fell and she looked like she was about to chew Devi’s face off which terrified Ben.

“N-no, sorry Ms Vishwakumar, that was totally my fault and uncalled for,” Ben cuts in. He looks at Devi who still looks mad at him (but less so, maybe a bit of relief).

“Would it be all right if we study first and then eat dinner?” Ben asks, not sure whether to direct the question to Nalini or Devi first.

“Dinner will get cold,” Nalini warns. “But, I must leave now, so you two can do what you will and whatever regarding dinner.” As she runs towards the door and grabs the keys, Nalini whips her head back and stares daggers at Devi.

“Devi, behave please,” she says through gritted teeth before shutting the door.

Devi sighs in relief and turns to Ben.

“So,” she says, heading towards the stairs. “Let’s get moving. We don’t have much time before dinner gets cold and it’s bedtime.”

Ben nods, walking behind under her. He looks up - damn she has a nice ass - curvy and round. He notices she is wearing a pretty short skirt, and—was that…

Ben blinks twice in disbelief, looking away before looking again. It was no doubt what it was—sticky wet lubricant-like liquid. Running down her inner thigh. Or maybe that’s sweat, he told himself.

Ben blushes. Wow, he felt like such a pervert for staring up her skirt. That and they were going up to her room. To study. Yeah.

(But damn her butt, her curves)

As they enter her room, Ben immediately plops down on the floor, opens his bag quickly, pulls out his AP European history book and notebook, and opening them and flipping through pages (nervously?) and quietly.

“Dude, you’ve been eerily silent this entire time,” Devi torts, and she can’t blame him, can’t blame how nerve wracking it was to have your chiseled (wait shut up Devi) arch nemesis in her room - supposedly a safe haven - to study. Come to think of it, why did she let him in her room? She began to regret her decision, especially when she realized that her nervousness was also turning into heated excitement, her breasts were tingling with desire and even her clit—

“You said you wanted to hurry, so here I am, focused, David,” Ben snaps. He ignores the fact that she’s not wearing a bra and that her tank top isn’t enough to hide her hardened nipples.

(Her cleavage looked so inviting, he dare not stare too long at her tits)

“Actually, for once, you didn’t use your brain and suggest we work downstairs and eat dinner simultaneously instead,” Devi retorted. “Let me just grab my laptop and we can go back downstairs to study and eat dinner at the same time.”

“Don’t put the blame on me for your lack of brain usage,” Ben snapped back, rolling his eyes.

Devi throws a stuffed animal at his head, and he barely dodges it.

“Asshole,” she mutters as she gets on her knees and reaches over her mattress and duvet, grabbing her Macbook.

That’s when Ben saw her soaking wet panties.

Heat rushed from his head to his other head, his cock jumping.

Holy fuck, he thought, is she doing this on purpose? Why did she have to put her ass up like that? Was this intentional? This was a little too cliche, he thought, and porn-like. Girl wearing no bra and apparently soaking wet invites horny boy over to her room and puts her ass in the air while in bed?

“Uh, yeah, yep, sure, that’s probably a better idea,” Ben stammers, trying to ignore his growing boner and grabbing his books. “Lemme just stuff—“

(Those boobs)

“—these boo….ooks. Books. In my bag.” He pushes the last book in his backpack and zips it up.

Oh dear god, did she notice his almost Freudian slip?

He glances over at her, and she’s got a raised brow. “Uh, okay, weirdo, did you just almost say boobs?” Devi says.

“What, no?” Ben says. “You weird pervert.”

“Don’t lie! I saw you staring at my boobs! You’re the pervert!”

“What kind of crap are you projecting onto me for? I’m innocent!”

“You’re like the least innocent person I know!”

“That’s definitely not true,” Ben scoffs. “And even if it was, it’s better than being an Unfuckable Nerd.”

That did it. That was the straw on the camel’s back. Devi was enraged, insulted, and sexually frustrated. Ben had dug into a deep insecurity of hers, a wound that she desperately wanted to heal and prove herself out of. For all her life, she had never felt desirable, never had a boy flirt with her or ask her out or even given her attention. When Ben first called her an “Unfuckable Nerd,” she didn’t show how painful the sting of his insult was to her lonely heart. She did not want to be the forever nerdy virgin who was seen as sexually undesirable and —god forbid—ugly.

(Was that why Paxton pushed her away, she thought briefly?)

“Shut up!” she yells before chucking her laptop at him. She misses by a meter (thank god her eye hand coordination was god awful), but she’s not sure if she was even intending on hitting him with the laptop. Still, the moment the laptop flew out of her hands and onto her carpeted floor (with a nice thud), Ben knew he had made a huge mistake. And so did Devi (though she dare not be the first one to admit that she was wrong).

Except she was really wrong this time.

“Devi!” Ben exclaimed. “I’m—“

“Oh fuck Ben, I’m—“

“So sorry.”

Both Ben and Devi apologized simultaneously, with heavy regret and a tint of fear in their voices.

“N-no, I crossed the line, Devi,” Ben said. “It’s really…misogynistic and objectifying of me to call you Unfuckable.”

Because you’re quite the opposite, he thought.

Devi acknowledged internally the apology, but it still stung painfully in her heart. She wanted to let him know that it still hurt.

(Especially hearing that term from him).

Still, she knew she was also incredibly at fault for almost injurying Ben.

“I’m also sorry, I really…really should’ve not thrown my laptop at you. I could’ve injured you really badly.” Devi dropped down to her knees, getting down to Ben’s level since he was still on the floor, a bit shaken by her throwing her laptop at him.

“I guess I deserved it,” he said. He looked over at the laptop on the ground.

“But if you did break it, don’t expect me to pay for a new one,” he said with a smirk.

Devi rolled her eyes. “I’m not your sugar baby; I wasn’t expecting you to pay for a new one.” She crawls towards her MacBook (Ben consciously looking away since she’s on her knees again) and opens it, praying to herself that it was still functioning.

She tapped on her keyboard multiple times.

Blank screen.

“Oh fuck,” she whispered. She kept tapping on the keys of the keyboard.

No response.

“Crap!” Devi hissed. “Oh no, no no no!” She was sort of panicking. “I knew this would happen.”

“So why did you throw the laptop then?” Ben slyly asked.

“Not. Helpful. Ben.”

Ben scoots closer to Devi, wraps his arm around her—

Devi is shocked, his graze making her melt into his touch, sending the pent up frustration and heat back to her ache and pussy—

But, Ben was only merely reaching around to press down on her laptop’s button for a couple of seconds before the lock screen shone back on.

Oh, Devi thought, a feeling of defeat and disappointment settling in her chest. He wasn’t hugging her.

But, hey her laptop’s alive.

“Oh thank god,” she says, breathing a sigh of relief before turning to him - wow he’s somehow pretty close to her face and body and oof, his proximity sets a fire across her entire body —

“Consider yourself lucky. Looks like you don’t have to buy me a new laptop,” she says, smirking.

Ben scoffs.

“In your dreams, David.”

Oddly enough, Ben’s arm is still wrapped around her, his presence warm and enveloping. Devi is tempted to lean into it but knows better (especially not now when she has been hot and bothered all day).

She types her password in her Lock Screen, hits enter, and gasps in horror as she realized that she didn’t properly close out her browser full of porn -

(which is now blasting moans of cam girls fucking the selves with sex toys all thanks to livejasmin)

“Oh shit!” Devi immediately slams her screen shut again.

But it was too late.

Ben’s brows shoot up, eyes widening and jaw dropping in guffaw. A laugh of disbelief escapes from his throat.

“Holy crap! And you called ME the pervert?” Ben laughs. “Who’s the pervert now?”

But damn, wow, he’s turned on.

He tightens his arm around Devi in a proper hug now, pressing her closer to him, and leans in, an inch from her ear, whispering —

“You’re a dirty girl”—

Before pressing his lips on hers.

[carolofdanvers]

𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 - nomad steve rogers x sw! reader

steve rogers is not usually the guy to seek out a stranger for relief, but after going into hiding post-avengers-breakup in amsterdam, the sultry red glow emitting from the neon signs in the red light’s district seem more and more tempting each passing night.

( warnings: nsfw, rough, sex work, descriptive smut, slight dom x sub undertones, dark! nomad steve, angsty, oral sex (male recieving), etc. )

Word Count: approx. 4.9k

this is my first one shot, my apologies for making it so long! i got a little carried away. tbh i’m thinking about turning it into a series if people like it enough, i think theres room to explore things here but for now just enjoy! i’d love some feedback if you have any! happy reading!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

To say that Steve Rogers was exhausted would be an understatement. After the fight that broke out in Germany, where friends became enemies and enemies became friends, the blonde super soldier had lost track of time. Although the memories seared through his mind like a surgeons cautery pen as if they were yesterday, the image of Tony in a rage and taking hit after hit, Bucky going under cryo in Wakanda, it had been almost a year. It was hard to believe it; the burner phone weighed heavily in his pocket with no calls or text from his former friend and wealthy fellow avenger. But, in the time he had been on the run, Amsterdam had been the most recent place to call a temporary home. He had stayed in places not so pleasant, like the little motels all across Russia as he backpacked further west into Europe, never really staying in any place for long. He was overly cautious; the man had lost faith in most forms of authority, which rang with such a strong sense of irony considering he was at one point the epitome of a law abiding citizen. Poor pre-serum Steve wouldn't know what to think of the man he had become; bitter, closed off, easily agitated, irritable, and even a bit cruel. He hated the world that had suddenly hated him, the world he found himself wishing he had never woken up into. Steve had become so unbearable that he and sam had split ways for a while, promising to reconvene in London should it be necessary. But now, Steve was on his own, staring out the window of his hotel room that had the perfect view of the canals that swirled like ink, and the bridge that lead right into the ever so alluring Red Light District.

During the day, the Red Light District was rather inconspicuous, perhaps slightly less attractive than the rest of the city, if anything at all. The bricks aligned in a herringbone pattern practically guided you past window after window of beautiful women, quite literally anyone you imagined. The closer you get to the area, the louder the buzzing of neon gets. The bars are usually pretty empty during the day, a few stray women, presumably escorts, looking to pick up an alcoholic or two having a drink at noon. Steve often found himself in these bars, but only during the day to find a place away from the tourist infested hotel and his sad, tiny hotel room. He never got anything to drink besides water, since alcohol metabolized far too quickly in his body to have any affect on him anyways. It was times like these that he missed Thor’s Asgardian brews, the only alcohol he had ever tried that made him feel something, any kind of buzz. But alas, he stuck to water in the dimly lit, smokey bars with sunlight seeping in through the above-ground windows.

The women of the Red Light District never tempted him, at least during the day. Steve had never found the appeal in casual sex. Yes, he was a man with desires and wants and needs, but part of him was too unbothered to try anything. He had Sharon, at one point in time, early on in his fugitive life, but they had since parted ways for the same reason he and Sam parted ways. The man was far too distant to really feel anything, but there was something about this place at night that drew him in more than he wanted to admit. Was it the otherworldly red glow that caught his eye? Or rather the shadows of women dancing in the windows, that same sensual red caressing their skin, barely dressed and jewels adorning their skin and necklaces resting against collarbones and heels far too tall for day to day wear? Perhaps it was the EDM that pounded from the many clubs, or maybe there was something else he couldn’t explain, a primal nature in him that drove him to near madness when he lay in bed trying to sleep, the soft red glow haunting him through the thin curtains covering the sliding door to a balcony. Sometimes, Steve would sit out there, watching the wonderland from afar, scratching his beard as he contemplated venturing into the maw of the beast. He never gave in, knowing the risk of being caught was serving time for treason at best.

But this particular night, Steve was insatiable. His own hands couldn’t possibly satisfy the craving that couldn’t be satisfied, the itch that just couldn’t be scratched. He was usually relatively satisfied after a few minutes, his hand wrapped around the thick veiny shaft of his cock and leaning against the headboard of his bed as he swiftly sent himself over the edge. But tonight was something else entirely. He had gone at it three or four times, his bare and sculpted chest glistening with sweat and his lower half slick with his cum. It didn’t help that his neighbor in the suite next door must have brought home a girl, because between the pounding of the headboard against the wall and the fake moans the poor girl had to emit was obnoxious, Steve couldn’t possibly take it anymore. He put on a few layers, as it was starting to get a little chilly in the city, as well as a hat to hide his face behind, and ventured out into the belly of the beast. He wandered for a while, keeping his head low for a while, until he realized how the red lights drowned out most features. his hat cast a deep shadow over his face, his hands shoved in his pockets as he finally lift his head to look up at the scantily clad women in the windows, waving at passerby after passerby. A few spotted him and fear coursed through his veins, but they didn’t recognize him, only thought he was handsome enough to warrant their attention. but he wasn’t drawn to any of them, not like he was drawn to you.

You were something else entirely. Although you were tucked away towards the end of the rows of windows, your presence was enthralling. He moved closer to the window as if you were a siren and he was lured to you by your song. You hadn’t spotted him yet, dressed in what was more of a burlesque showgirl kind of costume, almost pinup style. The crystals upon your leather bra reflected the haunting neon lights into fragments of color, bouncing around and catching the eye, although your perky breasts were just another set of eye catchers. Steve felt his cock twitch beneath the denim of his jeans, cursing his quick recovery speed considering he had left his hotel almost immediately after his fourth orgasm of the night. The super soldier took off his hat and ran his hands through his long hair to disturb it, never once taking his eyes off of you. you had finally spotted him at this point, noticing the handsome figure now smirking at you as you made eye contact. His stunning blues still managed to shine underneath the red light and something about that carnal look behind them made you forget any other potential customer besides him. you moved coyly, turning around to play shy and peeking over your shoulder, but turning around exposed your plump bum and swaying your hips only accentuated such a feature. You checked again to see if he was still watching, which he was, though a smirk was ever so present beneath his thick beard. Your mouth began to water at the imaginary feeling of his beard between your legs, the coarse hair tickling your inner thighs. This is what sent you over the edge, lifting your hand and summoning him with a single finger, your long nails accentuating the movement. Steve hesitated for a moment, looking over both shoulders, before moving towards the door. 

Steve had never solicited anyone before. He had never really had one night stands, let alone payed anyone for sex. He was that kind of guy who wanted chemistry and a relationship between him and his partner, as cheesy as that sounded. He may still be adjusting to the modern world but it didn’t matter when he woke up from being under ice, he would have always felt that way. But he sure as hell felt chemistry between you and him. He entered the room just as you were closing the curtains, standing in the doorway as he took in the layout of the very small room. Where you stood was the giant window that you lured customers through, the lights that once shone through the window were now blocked by thick curtains and that very same red light that haunted his every filthy thought flooded the room. It was tiny, a small bed a little larger than a twin was pressed against the wall, with a sink directly across. It was clean, plainly decorated, but clean. He assumed that every room looked like this. Steve finally got a closer look at you as you stood there staring at him, your painted lips curved into a teasing smile. He noticed that bit of mischief was prevalent in you; he could see it in your eyes, your expressive brows, your hands that wandered your own body to tease him, and god, was it working.

"You're new here." you said, moving in to place your hand's on his broad shoulders beneath his heavy canvas coat, letting them slide down to his chest and slowly unzip. Normally, you'd ask for your payment ahead of time, but this man seemed like he was going to be payment enough. "I've never seen you around, neither have the other girls. Otherwise there would have been plenty of talk. It's not often we get handsome strangers like you in all to ourselves."

Steve was mildly surprised to hear english, tensing up as he felt you unzip his coat, but he couldn't help but let you. Your accent didn't sound like the natives of Amsterdam, making him more and more curious about you. Every new thing he learned about you made him crave you even more, and though he was holding back, he wasn't sure he wanted to anymore.

"Your accent. It isn't Dutch." he was curt, his words getting to the point and it only made you wonder if he would be this harsh and unrefined with your body, something you had been craving from a beautiful man like him.

"It isn't." You pushed his coat off his shoulders to reveal a white t shirt that looked a few sizes too small considering his bulging muscles. The sleeves look like they'd burst any moment. "Would you like it to be?" You purred, arms wrapping around his neck and playing with his long hair, hair that hadn't seen a barber in far too long. "I can be a sweet little girl from London, or perhaps a feisty American woman, or a seductive French Woman fresh from Paris," You mimicked every accent with uncanny precision, leaving the blonde man unsettled and impressed. There was more to you than meets the eye, apparently. Steve was tense as he felt you get even closer, the heat from your bare body enough to make him feel that desire come back full force, blood rushing to his lower abdomen and feeling himself get warm as his large hands finally found their place at your waist, that mischievous smirk growing upon your red lips. "I can be anyone you want me to be." you tugged at his hair playfully.

"To be frank, I don't care. Just be you." he pulled you in roughly, body to body, face only inches from each other. A silent agreement was made between the two of you; this was really going to happen. Your lips collided into a heated kiss. Steve had never felt so sexually attracted to someone in his life without really knowing them. Perhaps that was the appeal, the idea that he had no idea who you were, only that you were willing to do almost anything and be anyone he asked for some euros. He pulled away from the kiss, the two of you now panting as you tugged at the hem of his shirt and helped him lift it up over his head, revealing one hell of a body. What was a man like him doing in Amsterdam alone? Was he single or was he filling the void of a lacking lover with prostitutes in the window brothels? You did not have time to dwell upon those thoughts any longer as his lips found your neck, his arms wrapped around you from behind as you let out little mewls of pleasure. His scratchy beard sent shivers down your spine, lips leaving little red splotches that would surely darken over time. His grip was strong, commanding, a little harsh, but you liked that.

"What can I call you?" you purred, pushing your hips back into his and finding that he had a large bulge that was only getting bigger by the moment. "How does that feel, Sir?" you tested, your hand reaching behind to touch his face while the other rest on top of one of his hands and guided it to your breast. "Do you like it, Master?" Still not a satisfactory reaction from the man you wished to seduce, although he continued to work at your neck and let out a soft groan as his large hand cupped at your breast still covered by the costume you wore. "If you want it, come and get it, Daddy." This was the name, you decided, noticing him freeze at the name before his grip got rougher and he was a little more reckless with you. Steve caught that mischievous look in your eyes again in the mirror and finally the man let go of all his inhibitions. He spun you around to face him before he kissed you again, sloppily and full of need as if you were his life force. His hands wandered your back, pulling you towards him and pressing your body against his chiseled one. the kiss was suffocating in the best way possible, one of his hands sliding up to your face, leaving a trail of goosebumps upon your skin. It settled at your neck, momentarily wrapping around it as if he threatened to tighten his grip, before pressing at the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. He grabbed fistfuls of your freshly done curls that reminded him of the show girls he toured with back in the forties. Everything about you screamed home to him, despite you being completely unaware of what home even was to him, despite him not even having a home anymore. You pulled away only to look him in those beautiful light eyes, the two of you basking in the deep red light that perfectly reflected the heavy heat of the room. Your hands swiftly moved to undo his belt and slide down his jeans that pooled down at his knees, leaving him in his briefs. The imprint of his bulge clearly showed how he yearned for you, his shaft wanting nothing more to escape its confine. you guided him to the little bed and had him lean against it while you wedged yourself between his legs. The way you looked up at him had him going wild, innocent eyes looking up at him through thick lashes as you palmed his cock through the thin fabric. You loved the way he looked down at you, the way his knuckles had turned white from gripping the edge of the bed too rough. He looked down at you with an intensity you rarely saw in a man as you hooked your thumbs into the elastic waistband and tugged down, his member springing out and standing at attention as his boxers joined his other clothing on the floor. Steve watched in awe as you left open mouth kisses on the veiny shaft, groaning upon the feeling of your soft lips where he craved you the most. You were shocked at how large he was, although you shouldn’t have been just by looking at him. You lifted the mattress to grab a condom wrapper, tearing it open and rolling it over his hard member. You, like all the other sex workers in the Red Light District, refused to not use a condom. It was common knowledge and Steve silently agreed to it. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable. His hands found their place in your hair again as your tongue dragged from the base to tip, flicking over the slit that leaked clear precum into the latex. Steve’s body reacted more than he would have liked, involuntarily tensing. A low growl rumbled in his chest as you finally began to take him into your mouth, little by little as your hands with manicured nails wrapped around the shaft. He watched you as you began to bob your head, groans of pleasure escaping him. You looked so beautiful to him, unearthly and sinful with drool dribbling down your chin and watery eyes from taking his thick length into your mouth and hitting the back of your throat. He hadn’t felt the touch of a woman in too long, unaware of how much he had been craving physical intimacy. Watching you move was enough to make him explode right then and there, but he held it back, the coil in his lower abdomen tightening up as he threatened to orgasm.

"Yeah, that's right, doll, take it." he moaned, really getting into things now. You looked up to see his eyes shut and head tossed back. His neck was tense and jaw clenched. He was already close to an orgasm, which was unsurprising to a woman in your field, however you didn't want the fun to end so soon. Your hands moved away from his cock and you braced yourself on either of his thighs as you began to deepthroat him, taking all seven inches down. Suppressing your gag reflex was easy enough, although your jaw ached from his girth. He let out a guttural moan, one he couldn't hold back like the others as your lips closed around him and bottomed out down your throat. He pulled on your hair, the pleasure too overwhelming, but you refused to let him give in. You pulled away with a gasp, strings of saliva connected from his cock to your lips as you breathed heavily and your hands moved at the pace your head had bobbed.

"Does Daddy like it? Does it make him wanna bust? Come on, Daddy-" Steve had enough of the taunting. He lift your chin up so he could look at you, a proper mess with smeared lip stick and drool, wiping it away with his thumb.

"You drive me insane." was all he said before he scooped you up and placed you on the bed. He kicked off his clothes that pooled around his ankles and swiftly undid your own bra, your nipples hardening to the cool air as Steve hovered over you. Once again, his lips found their place at your neck, admiring his marks that had now deepened and went over them again, but unsuspecting you had been so consumed with the feeling of his lips on your neck and trailing down that you hadn't noticed his hand slip away from your waist and slipped beneath the fabric of your lacy promiscuous bottoms. Your eyes, which had previously been shut as you enjoyed his lips on your neck, flew open as you gasped, back arching up towards his hovering body upon feeling his fingers slide between your slick folds. Steve wanted nothing more than to slide into you right then and there upon hearing that beautiful sigh escape you. His cock twitched in need as his lips trailed further down, nibbling on your collarbones and leaving breathy, open mouth kisses until taking the delicate rosebud of your nipple into his mouth and sucking gently while a finger skillfully slid inside you. Your moans were symphonic, like beautiful song, although he knew they weren't faked like the neighbor's girl, her sing-songy moans that annoyed him to no end. He was genuinely pleasing her, and he loved it. You grew wetter by the second, the feeling of his finger, and then fingers inside of you, his lips leaving marks all over your breasts, you weren't sure how much longer you could last. And there was another moment of silent communication, as Steve pulled away, sliding his middle and ring finger out of her and placing them to her lips. "Be a good girl and clean them up." he demanded, groaning as you parted your lips and sucked his fingers clean, tongue swirling around them sensually. His cock twitched at the feeling before pouncing, pinning you down and kissing you feverishly and you reciprocating once more. His hands slid down your body to remove what little clothing was still on you, leaving the two of you bare. Your taste on your tongue was intoxicating, and if he had more time and more patience he would have savored it and perhaps gone down on you, but he was impatient and needed you. Steve's eyes met yours as he lined himself up with you and slid in, the two of you erupting into moans neither of you could hold back. It had been almost a year since the last time Steve had had sex, but you didn't have that excuse. Your moans shocked you. Steve shocked you. You had sex all into the night, every single night, several men leaving this very room and yet none of them felt the way Steve did inside of you. You were unsure of whether or not it was because of how attracted to each other you both were or if he was simply that large (or perhaps it was both), but as he bottomed out inside of you, your nails dug into his broad shoulders and he buried his face into the crook of your neck. You shut your eyes tight, seeing stars from the sheer pleasure of it all, but slowly it began to fade, to which Steve took as a sign to begin to move. He pinned your arms over your head as he pulled almost all the way out, smirking as he slammed back into you. It felt intense as he reached spots few other men had over reached, proving himself superior with every roll of his hips. Steve found satisfaction in the way your face morphed, eyes squeezing shut and nose scrunching before lips parted and formed a perfect "o" shape, letting out another moan that was like music to his ears. It spurred him on, encouraging him to keep going. "You like that, baby?" he asked, although you were so consumed by the pleasure that only incoherent mumbles could escape your lips. Steve wasn't satisfied by this. "Use your words, dollface or else Daddy won't let you cum. Tell me how much you love how I fuck you." He demanded, really getting into it as he picked up the pace, grunting softly as your tight walls gripped him like no other. You were a desperate mess at this point, eyes wild and filled with arousal and fear as the sounds of sex filled the air, skin to skin contact and the faint thumping of EDM from a nearby club. The unmistakable smell of it consumed your mind, unable to form a single proper thought and fully enveloped in this electrifying sense of primal desire. Your body felt hot, a thin sheen of sweat glistening upon your skin like diamonds, your baby hair starting to stick to your forehead from the pleasure of it all. You could feel yourself reaching your climax but you knew he'd deny you of that thing you chased if you didn't talk, if you didn't beg for it. "God, I love how you fuck me, Daddy. You're so big inside of me, you fill me up so good-" You were interrupted by a moan that escaped you involuntarily as he purposely rolled his hips deep into you. You were dangerously close and Steve could feel it too, the way you clenched around him, the way your body rolled like the tides beneath him. He needed to orgasm, but he refused until he heard you beg. "Beg for me, baby girl." He demanded, now thrusting at an ungodly speed. You weren't sure how any human could move like this, but you had no idea who he was, really. You had no idea that he wasn't some average human, you could only assume he was just some guy with extraordinary skills. Steve let go of your hands to get better leverage over you, and your hands flew to his back. "Please Daddy, let me cum," you begged, nails digging into his skin and leaving claw marks upon his flesh to serve as a reminder later when he showered that this was not a dream. "I love how good you fuck me, no other man can possibly compare to you. I love your big cock inside of me, it makes me feel so good. Please daddy, I'm begging you, let your baby girl cum-" You were interrupted by his hand reaching down to find your clit and begin circling it with his fingers, nearly sending you over the edge. But it wasn't his skillful fingers or his thrusting that got you to your peak, but his words, his command that brought you to your orgasm. "Cum for me, doll." Four simple words made you cum, an explosive orgasm that reminded you of the birth of a star. Pleasure ripped through you like white hot lightning and rippled out to your fingers and toes and left you feeling like you were made of stardust and nothing more. You hadn't even realized how loud you were moaning because you were so consumed with the immense pleasure he brought you. Your toes curled and eyes shut tight, head tossed back, shaking violently as your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in and deeper inside of you. Steve was close, himself, but you pulling him in deeper and deeper with your strong legs around his waist sent him over the edge. He wanted to admire the beauty that was you as you orgasmed, but he could hardly focused as you had tightened around him and an orgasm was imminent. He thrust into you once, twice, and three more times before he came as well, spilling into the condom wrapped around his shaft. He let out a guttural moan in your ear, his own eyes shut tight. The two of you slowly fell from your highs together, panting heavily. Steve's warm breath tickled your neck as he peppered kisses upon your skin again, softening inside of you. It took a moment for you to recover, as it did for Steve, but he seemed eager to leave. You were a bit disappointed as he got up so soon and threw away the used condom, sighing as he was finally satisfied. for now. "How much do I owe you?" he asked as he started to get dressed again, the jingling of his belt filling the heavy silence in the room. You looked at him, languidly propped up on the bed, staring at him like he was a god. "Nothing." you said after a moment of silence. he paused and looked at you, pushing back his long hair and suppressing a smile. "I've never had sex like that before, you must've been angry for a very long time." You teased, grabbing your robe and wrapping yourself up. You grabbed your cigarette and lit it, blowing smoke out between your smudged lips. He scoffed and shook his head, putting his t shirt back on. "Yeah. I guess you could say that." His voice was low, gravelly and quiet, as if that were a loaded statement. If only he could tell you of his troubles, the tales of glory and triumphs...and losses. He had walked in with slumped shoulders and his guard up, but now you noticed his posture had straightened and he seemed a little lighter on his feet. That alone was enough payment. It amused you. You stared at the wallpaper for a moment as he slipped on his hat and began to push the door open. "Can I be expecting you again?" you asked, trying not to let the hopefulness seep into your words. He looked down at his shoes before looking up at you, your curls all distressed, smeared lipstick, blowing smoke out into the air as you leaned against the bed they had fucked on only moments ago. You were otherworldly, and though sometimes it was hard for you to see yourself as even human, he thought the world of you. Brave enough to let strange men fuck you, enter the most vulnerable state a human can be. He admired that about you. "I don't know," was all he could say. You looked at him and nodded, taking a drag from your cigarette and sighing, smoke exiting your body through your nose. Looking down at your bare feet, you pursed your lips. "Well, you know where to find me." You told him. He took one last look at you before he nodded respectfully, leaving without another word. And with that, he disappeared like a ghost.

[borhap-au]

Cutting your hair short. Ben Hardy smut.

When you opened the door for Ben, you were wearing a hood and a beanie on your head, which didn’t escape his attention. He looked at you surprised and smiles a bit, since he definitely didn’t expect to see you like that. When he entered the house, you closed the door behind him. He turned to you and kissed you, putting his arms around you and bringing you closer to him. You kissed him back softly.

“I like the new style. What’s with the hood though?” he smiled to you and you looked away.

“Like you said, it’s a new style. I’m trying out some things and I like this for now” he chuckled quietly and pet you cheek.

“You look cute. A bit gangsta” you rolled your eyes, as it felt like he was making fun of you. He put his hands on your hood and looked at you for permission to take it off. You looked away, but you didn’t say no either, so he slowly took it off.

“You remind me of Sid from Skins” he joked, and you moved away from his touch and wanted to go, but he stopped you. “Hey, I’m just joking. You look really cute. If that’s your style now, I like it. I’ll buy you a beanie for your birthday” he smiled. You looked at him and sighed, which made him surprised. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean that Sid thing-“

“It’s not about that” you interrupted him. “I found an old beanie just to cover it. I didn’t change my style, but thanks for accepting me anyway” he looked at you confused.

“To cover what?” you sighed quietly again and took your beanie off to expose your short haircut you did a day before. You didn’t know how to feel about it. You were a bit insecure and scared that maybe you’ve gone too far. After all, everyone remembered you with much longer hair and they might not accept the change easily. Especially Ben, who loved to move his fingers through your hair.

You looked up unsure to see his reaction. After all, you cared for his opinion the most.

He was smiling.

“You look so badass, girly” he smiled widely. “My warrior” he kissed you softly. You smiled kissing him back.

“Really? It’s not… like… too much?” you muttered still being unsure. He shook his head.

“You look amazing. It looks classy on you” he moved his hand through your hair and you smiled biting your lip. He still liked to do it. And he really seemed to like your new look. You felt relieved that at least this one problem was gone, but there were others.

“I’m worried about people’s opinion…” you said quietly looking down. Suddenly you were blushing at your own insecurity. He put his finger under your chin and made you look at him.

“You shouldn’t be worried at all. Whoever dares to disrespect my Queen, will talk to me afterwards” softly kissed your lips and you had butterflies in your stomach. His soft lips immediately made you feel better. “Unless you want to talk to them, hmm, badass? Want to kick their butt first, while I’m holding your earrings?” he winked and you chuckled quietly.

“I prefer to leave it for you” he kissed your jawline and made his way to your neck.

“Good” he muttered quietly between the kisses.

You went with him to the couch and he made you sit at the back of it. You put your hands around him to feel more secure and held him as he planted the kisses on your neck, since he couldn’t go farther because of the hoodie. That’s why you decided to take it off and throw it away.

He smiled and moved his hand on your hip as he planted small kisses on your shoulder and collarbones. He knew all the places you liked to be kissed on, touched on, and he did it with pleasure. He went down as his lips started to kiss your cleavage and breasts. You pet his hair.

“You have a quite nice haircut yourself, Hardy” you smiled and he smiled back looking at you, without stopping the kisses.

“Way less badass than my Queen’s” he commented and took your bra off. When he was licking and sucking your nipples, you looked across the room. There you were, in the mirror, with the love of your life almost kneeling between your legs and him admiring your body. You smiled a bit to yourself and looked at your haircut, a bit messy from Ben’s touch. You really looked quite badass, like those women from the books you liked to read. It was a haircut worthy of a warrior, but damn, you would rock it with some nice dress on the red carpet.

You pet Ben’s head as he took the kisses lower and helped you take your trousers off. He kissed your inner thigh, while his fingers teased you through your underwear.

“The pink dress, don’t you think?” he saw you being lost in thoughts, but that brought you back. “Your haircut would suit that outfit so well. You should wear it to the party on Saturday” he suggested.

“Really?” you looked at him breathing heavily. He put your underwear aside.

“I think you’ll make all of the girls there red from jealousy. Not many would look as good with short hair as you do” he stared eating you out while you tilted your body back breathing heavily. That was the moment you couldn’t think of anything else but Ben’s skillful tongue playing with your clit. You fought with yourself not to squeeze your legs while the pleasure was making you all hot. You felt it in every nerve of your body.

When Ben decided you were wet enough for him, he got up, taking his trousers off with his underwear. Then he placed himself between your legs again and took some of your juices on his fingers before stroking himself. Then he slowly moved his tip on your labia.

“I cannot stop looking at you, you know? I didn’t think anything could top how beautiful you were before and yet here we are. You look so fucking good, girly, I fell in love with you all over again” after he said that, you put your hand at the back of his head and brought him close for a passionate kiss. He immediately kissed you back. The kiss was long and became sloppy, and after some time Ben slowly entered you.

“Everyone will be jealous. Fuck, I can already see the guys’ reactions. I need to keep you close, they will want to steal you from me” you chuckled, because he was silly, and he muttered all different kind of things when he was breathing heavily and thrusting his hips. That was his thing to always compliment you during sex, make sure you feel valuable and praise you. It was a new thing for you, but you felt amazing, even if you didn’t really believe half of the compliments, because you thought they were exaggerated. But Ben made you feel differently about yourself, you were more confident when he was around. You saw his hungry, needy eyes anytime he saw you after a few days of absence and you knew he wanted you. You and only you, to be precise. That made you feel much better with yourself, your body image wasn’t a problem to you anymore. At least not as much as it used to be, because you knew Ben loved you exactly the way you are, and for him you were prettier than any girl he ever saw. He made you feel special.

Both of your deep breathes and quiet moans and groans were the only things breaking the silence. You moved in his pace, holding him by the back of his neck, while he pinned his fingers in your hips, helping you to move and thrusting his hips. You felt orgasm building up and not so long after you came. You wanted to kneel before him, as Ben loved to come on your face, but this time he stopped you.

“We can’t mess this beautiful hairstyle” he smiled and you chuckled. Better for you, you didn’t have to move. He came on your stomach and then helped you clean yourself.

At the evening you were laying on the couch with him, holding his hand and resting your body on his chest. You were pretending to watch TV, but for real you spent more time petting each other’s bodies.

“So you really think it’s okay?” you asked finally and looked at him.

“It’s not just okay, honey. You look stunning” you smiled and snuggled to him. “Fuck, you look better than Joe” he joked and you tried not to laugh and pretend to be mad, but you laughed anyway. “You look better than anyone” he added and kissed you softly. “My sweet badass lovely warrior queen.”

“I feel like Negasonic Teenage Warhead now” you chuckled and he nodded.

“You are. But better” he softly pet your cheek looking at you.

“Thanks, my sweet Yukio.”

“I’ll be privileged to be your Yukio. Anytime.”

“Great. So we have Halloween costumes planned.”

[anxious-existence]

Exposing Body Imperfections

I am not perfect, and my body is not perfect; in fact, no one and nothing is perfect. Yeah, I comprehend these words and even use them as affirmations sometimes, but it is still so fucking hard to believe, especially if you are overly perfectionist. I look at my body every morning in the mirror, checking it, thinking about the parts I would change, and criticizing it to the point of hating it. I have this awful habit (probably most of us have), always comparing it to others and end up finding my body worst of the worst. I am terrified to show it and always hide unwanted parts under the clothes; I specifically choose the clothes that hide my imperfections. 

Simultaneously, I feel guilty that I can not accept my body and feel pressured by body positive movement and influencers preaching us to accept and love our bodies. No, this does not mean that they should not preach body positivity. In fact, I respect this movement and value the changes it made and still makes by breaking the beauty standards, but some of us perceive another side of the coin as well, which is toxic positivity. Telling me, who dislikes her body for years, to start telling myself that I love and adore my body and that these affirmations will make me feel powerful, bring perpetual peace, and change in me is frustrating and unrealistic because I do not believe these affirmations. I became conscious a long time ago that inner conflict and dissatisfaction about my body and everything, in general, is never-ending, so I have to pretend and feel a false sense of acceptance that is mentally exhausting and negatively affects me. It is like a religion, promising peace and happiness in the end if you pray reeeeealy hard.

Even though I mentioned that I dislike my body, I have my preferred and more realistic way to deal with my insecurities. I am not saying that it works all the time, but at least I do not prevaricate myself, and it feels more authentic. Instead of saying that I admire my body, I look at it and say to myself: Nothing, I say nothing. Because I have no fucking idea how to comfort myself in this. I only criticize. Oh, one thing I say is to accept the fact that dissatisfaction with your body will never end, and it feels better than saying that my body is unique among the uniques.

So, this writing piece is a fight with my critical self to prove that I can expose the body parts that I am so embarrassed about, hoping that she will lose her power. So, here are the shaaaaameful motherfuckers.

1. Saggy Boobs

Ugh, even though my husband loves them, I hate my boobs. They annoy me! Saggy motherfuckers! Actually, not as saggy as you imagined but not as perfect as my perfectionist self imagines. I can't stand that they are not perky and uplifted. The sweat that piles up under the boobs when I exercise is one of the most uncomfortable feelings. Yeah, I wear a sports bra and tried different types, but still, it doesn't hold that good. I do not wear tops or t-shirts that I like because it does not look aesthetically pleasing for me. Sometimes I lift them with my hands and say: ugh, I want them to look like this. Also, sometimes I say to myself: you are young, have no kids, and your boobs look like you fed two kids. At least you would justify it with this reason. What the fuck of the thought?!

2. Cellulitis

Those motherfuckers that look like crumpled paper on my thighs and butt and irk the shit out of me. I can't decide which one I loathe more, cellulitis or boobs. But wait, I hate cellulitis more because I can not hide them in summer. Most of the summer, I try to hide them by not wearing shorts or mini skirts, but I can not hide them if I am on the beach. Sometimes though, I wear shorts as a way of protesting to myself, but it feels uncomfortable. Ugh, the feeling when I touch it; it feels like legos and reminds me that I have them. When I gain weight, they become more visible. Oh, I nearly forgot to mention, cellulitis is more common in women than in men. But who the fuck cares about genetics? Women are expected to be these hot, perfect, flawless beings.  

3. Soft skin

As I mentioned above, my perfectionist self wants EVERYTHING perfect, so I want to have this toned, thick, and silky skin on my body, but instead, I have soft and loose skin from losing and gaining weight shit tons of time. I was a curvy girl in my teenage years, but society around me always made sure that I felt fat, giving me the advice to lose weight or would be more problematic in my adult years. So, because society's distorted views on body image had affected me, I lost significant weight (22 pounds); I was 17 at that time. Besides social pressure, the motivator was my husband, whom I had a crush on and thought he liked skinny girls, haha. I was on this insane diet that I invented. I was eating peanuts, one banana, and one apple three times a day for six months, with no exercising. Do not repeat it! Losing weight in an unhealthy way has many negative aftermaths. In my case, my skin loosened, and more cellulitis appeared.

Whoah, I can't believe I exposed the insecurities that make me feel worthless sometimes and have been struggling for many years. I don't know how I feel. Hopefully, these vulnerabilities will not have as much power over me as it currently has, since you already found out what an ugly and imperfect body I have. WoO

Note to me: Please be as compassionate and understanding with yourself as you are with others.

[golddaggers]

untouched || chapter one

not mine but god he pulls it off

pairings: alpha!thor x omega!reader, natasha x reader (friendship folks tho i was really tempted to add something more ugh hahaha)

warnings: hmmm, cursing, i suppose (?), lots of knuckles kissing by thor and a lot of background on her, which is not that pretty. well. 

a/n: took me long enough to finally finish this hahaha, i always wanted to keep adding stuff and adding and adding. well. i hope it turned out well? lemme know!

word count: 8,7k+

song to this chapter: i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys

The night went by incredibly sweaty and hot, she flipped under the thick sheets, trying to find a better way to sleep. Nonetheless, her mind could only spin around thoughts inspired by that Alpha. Around Thor. She was curious about him, about that thunderstorm smell that made her feel like he's home. Like he’s that childhood place she'd go to hide from the rain.

As soon as the sun sneaks through a rift in the curtains, she stands up, deciding it was useless to dwell much into it. This feeling… It was hormonal, the normal reaction of an Omega towards an Alpha, nature making sure the species would continue. That was it, she pleads with herself.

Shrugging off the navy blue t-shirt she had slept in and the pair of underwear, the girl walked to the small bathroom of the quite big room Natasha had settled her in. It had a full sized bed in middle, its purple sheets, which were reeking off of lavender, messily sprawled all around it, two nightstands by each side, one even had an antique candlestick on, scented candles slowly melting. There was also a small couch by the large windows, framed by carmine curtains. Overall, it sort of reminded her of what a royal bedroom should look like.

The bathroom, however, was simpler. A white, porcelain tub on one corner, the toilet facing it while the sink stood on its left. Under, a nice cabinet, which was the first place she looked for soap and shampoo. A good shower to finally clean herself from the dust that stained her cheeks still. Possibly other bits of her body as well. Regardless of still being early in the evening, as soon as she was established, the girl quickly dozed off, sleeping so soundly and for so many hours that when she woke up, between yaws, she found a tray filled with food on her nightstand to dine.

She sighed, wondering who had been on her room in the middle of the night, despite being perfectly able to feel the faint thunderstorm scent still pungent in the air. There's no way he would have bothered to bring her food personally. Perhaps her nose was lying, still high on that intoxicating odour.

At last, she grabbed everything she needed, a little bit excited to find a razor blade as well. It had been a while she was granted all those luxuries, her poor heritage almost screaming for her not to abuse their hospitality. Honestly, she couldn’t believe her own luck that they hadn’t thrown her out in the spot.

While the water warmed up, she rubbed the soap on her calves, running the blade up to remove the body hair, banging the razor against the tub's surface to properly clean it. With shaved legs, she tasted the water using her feet, groaning when feeling it so warm and delicious, slipping under easily. Her body floats for a minute, in torpor. It was so relaxing she even forgot there was life outside.

After she thanked the heavens again for all that kindness, the woman went on with her shaving, peeling off the hair under her armpits. In the meanwhile, her mind swirled into unsettling thoughts, questioning the reasons why they haven't told her to go away yet. Yes, werewolves are really into all that "you are one of us" thing, but she didn't belong to that pack. She didn't belong anywhere if she was entirely honest.

With the razor lying on the flat surface next to her, the girl went under the water, drenching all of her hair at once. A shower head would be way more effective, but since there was none, not that she was complaining, she'd have to work things out the way they were. Applying a little bit of shampoo on her scalp, she began rubbing, trying to untangle while doing so.

A minute or two in, she dove back inside the tub, trying to take all the white foam. It would take a while to completely rinse it off, though. Groaning in frustration, she allowed her body to float for a while again, going up with a head heavy from the soaked hair. There was a moment of silence, her bottom lip resting between her teeth as she stared at the razor and the spot between her legs, realising she was down one region.

Finally, ignoring altogether the splashing water when she moved, the girl sat on one of the bathtub edges, spreading her legs and gripping the razor blade. Something roared inside her, her brain shooting images of a certain Alpha bent forward, those pink lips swollen from kissing- If it ever came to that, she wanted him to be pleased with what he’d find underneath her clothes.

“Don’t be stupid”, she scolded herself. Not that she was ugly or anything, she was actually kind of nice looking, but that man? She was convinced that if those myth gods from the tales her mother told her as an infant, he would be one of them, with that blond hair and blue eyes, a body so muscular and thick. From all of his features, what intrigued her the most, however, was his scent, the way it undid all worries and broke down all of her guards, it was all new. She’d never felt anything like it.

Of course, in the past, she had come close to many Alphas, one, in the matter, came really close to claiming her. She couldn’t be any older than fifteen when her father tried to ship her off into a marriage with a mid-thirties man. He had mean eyes, his smell annoyed her to the bone. Purely out of luck, her mother was able to intervene, otherwise, she’d be forever stuck to a man she didn’t love. Oh, how she missed her mother.

A small pile of hair puddled where she gently tapped with the razor to remove the excess. It was almost done. Once she finished showering, she would go look for Natasha to ask if there was anything she could do in that house, cleaning, cooking, taking care of animals or the kids. Anything. It was the payment for all the niceness they had given her. It was the least she could do.

As she was about to strip the last part, a noise came from the room, someone fumbling with the knob. The girl slipped into the tub, the razor opening a fairly big cut on her inner thigh, blood gushing while water flooded the tiled floor. Ugh. For a werewolf, she lacked the steadiness and grace of one.

“Little wolf, are you okay?” Thor’s voice filled the room, concern dripping from it. “I smell blood.”

“I-I, uh-” The bathroom door was flung open, electric blue irises scanning her thoroughly. “-I was taking a shower and, well, I am okay. Don’t worry. I mean, not that you are worried.”

“Where are you bleeding from?” He asked, wearily looking away, once he realised how very much naked she was.

“My thigh.” It was so low, she thought he’d miss it. Apparently, he didn’t, his features relaxing as he knelt in the same cabinet she took the things to shower, an aid kit between his hands.

“Get out of there so I can help you.” The demanding tone of his voice almost made her comply without question, though the bashfulness got the best of her. “What is the  matter, little wolf?”

“You… You don’t have to do this. I mean, it’s really just a small cut and I’m, well, naked. I’m sure you have seen plenty of naked women, but you haven’t seen me naked, so-” Her rambling urged a chuckle out of him, Thor leaning against the wall as he inspected the mess she’d made. “What is it?”

“You’re adorable.” It made her insides twist, a low gasp slipping. “Come out, little wolf. We need to talk."

"Yeah, I know. Gimme' a minute? I'm almost over. Promise."

"I'll be waiting outside."

After a short nod, she was left alone, slightly dizzy from the heady, intoxicating scent he had left all around the bathroom. It had even her oblivious shame that he had seen her without any clothes on fade away.

Head thrown back, she did her best to speed things along, finally finishing the bath, feeling very refreshed. It was good to have warm water for once. Wrapped around a towel, she marched back into the room, finding Thor on the grey upholstered storage bench. It had totally passed through her senses she'd forgotten to make her bed. By now he was probably thinking that she couldn’t clean up after herself.

"I take you're well settled?"

"Very much, thank you." Struggling to get air into her lungs, she spots the clothes folded and placed on her bed, going over to snatch them. "I, um, I have absolutely no way to pay you back for all of this. I can work for you if you please. There must be something for me to do-"

"Oh, no. I wouldn't accept that." Thor exhales deeply. "Natasha said I shouldn't come over here because you might feel uncomfortable."

If it was anybody else, she probably would. Her efforts to push the memories from yesterday to the depths of her mind were consuming much of her energy so she wouldn't be able to deal with other people so early in the morning. Except him. His presence made her feel at ease, it helped her rather than get in the way.

Her suddenly relaxation doesn’t go unnoticed, a minimum smirk pulling the right corner of his lip up. She gives her back to him, slipping on the set of knickers, loose cotton grey shorts and a mush-green tank top. The lack of a bra made her feel somewhat exposed, but she wouldn't wear the clothes from the day before again. Not ever.

"But I don't make you uncomfortable, do I?" There was a slight urgency underneath his voice. "I can ask her to have this conversation with you if you think it's better."

"No. You are fine." She sat beside him, shoulders grazing lightly. "I'm sorry for the mess."

"Not a problem, little wolf. Sorry for what happened yesterday."

She shrugs.

"It wasn't your fault. I shouldn't be out, so that's on me."

"No, it's not your fault," Thor states eyes widen. There's sympathy swimming on that blue sea. "They have been dealt with, so you don't have to worry."

"Are they…?" The words die out on her mouth.

"Dead? No. But they won't be bothering you or any other Omegas."

"That's good, I guess."

She looks away, focusing on one yellow spot on the white wall, trying her best to refrain the compulsion to plop down on his lap and bury her nose into the crook of his neck, taking all of that petrichor, all of that wet green leaves, all of that thunderstorm. Ever since she could remember, she adored them, the rippling of thunders and bolts of lightning in the sky, so it seemed a little ironic that his scent became her favourite. It was the best she caught, the one that affected her the most.

Throughout the years, she found herself smitten by men, by Alphas. She was still relatively young, so there weren’t many as one might think, but not one of them got to her like Thor. And she didn’t even harbour feelings for him. The girl cursed her own biology for that, concluding that her Heat might be closer than she calculated it to be. That was the only obvious explanation for this sudden spark.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she allowed his taste to swirl carefree across her taste buds, her mind spinning. It was strong. Strong enough to make her dizzy. Her inhibitors pitching low and making her throw her head back, wondering if he was purposely making you feel like that or if it was out of his control. Wondering if he felt the same. If he felt hot. Bothered.

“Thor.” She whimpers, lowly. “I-I…”

“Sorry, little wolf. Just trying to make you feel calm.”

“I’m thankful, but I-I… I won’t…”

Her chest rises and falls in a frantic pace, the girl struggling to breathe normally. It felt like she had run a marathon, sweat hoarding at her hairline. She had no idea when or how things escalated so quickly, still, the will to straddle him, feel the stiffness within his jeans trousers, was way past a will, but become a bruising need.

“I should go.” Thor mumbles, pupils were blown out, a predator gleam beneath the thin blue lines around the black. “We can talk later.”

“N-no… I just need a minute.”

He pulls back for an instant, giving her the space needed and lifting the spell his scent placed on her. The girl pressed her thighs together, clawing the skin of her forearms to focus on reality rather than the bubble suddenly created between them. She couldn’t let it control her, no matter how good he was to her, she needed to pull through the craving.

She gazes up at him, finding the tall figure resting his back against the wall, near the room’s door. The blue of his t-shirt enveloping what she knew were strong muscles caught her eye, it was a point of focus to bring her senses back.

It was scary as hell to feel like this. So out of control.

“I’m really sorry, little wolf.”

“It’s fine, I’m just not used to it. Not this strong.” The smile on his lips is apologetic, blue irises bleeding through the black of the pupils. "What did you want to talk?"

"Your stay." She agrees with a head movement. "Do you have somewhere to go? You're not bitten, but do you have a family?"

"I, well, I live alone. In a tiny room in the city, which I pay off by working at a nursing home. It's a horrible job, but at least I earn enough to survive and the ladies are fairly nice. You don't want to know this stuff, I know. Okay, I'll just stay quiet now."

A bright smile reveals his white, straight teeth underneath. Her breath falters for a split second, forcing her to look away.

"It's okay, you can talk as much as you like."

"No, my father says men don't want to listen to women wailing." It's a shameful whisper, her brain reprimanding herself for being so chatty. From the corner of her eye, she catches Thor shaking his head. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise. You are not wailing and I am willing to hear you talk." Kneeling, he puts a strand of hair behind her ear, using his index and thumb to grip her chin and make her look up at him. He's lost on those sweet, innocent eyes. "Do you want to stay, little wolf? I will take care of you if want me to."

"You're not…?" She doesn't need to specify for him to understand what she's asking.

"No. I'm not bonded to anyone, but it wouldn't matter. I want to care for you."

The impulse to touch him strikes again, only this time she doesn't fight back, her hand cupping his cheek, the nicely trimmed beard scraping the skin as she rubbed. Thor leans into her caress, rumbling as he does so. She had soft, delicate hands that make filthy thoughts come up to his head, which he had to brush it off before things got out of hand again.

It was true. He wanted to take care of her, his insides were pushing him into taking the responsibility, even though he had met her not much more than twenty-four hours. She just had those puppy eyes that nearly forced him to engulf her in his arms to protect that little wolf from all harm.

"What's your decision, little wolf?" He brings her knuckles to his lips, kissing them lightly and respectfully. "You can go back to your family and to your beloved ones. This is not a prison."

"I know." A low purring sound slips from her as she leans in to press her cheek against his neck. "I want to stay. I don't have anyone else either way. But I’m okay doing work, seriously, I don’t want to feel as if I am taking advantage of your hospitality."

"Hmm, you're not, but you can do whatever you please." It comes out in a harsh gasp, his raspy voice even deeper. "You'll be busy either way. Natasha will come by later to get you ready for your lessons."

"Lessons?"

"You need to learn how to take care of yourself." His tone shifts to something more austere, blue eyes burning her alive. "This pack… I am supposed to watch out for the others, each wolf that swings around."

"Does that mean you are a supreme Alpha?" The realisation that she was in front of the highest class of the werewolf hierarchy sends a fearful chill down her spine. "My mother told me about them when I was a little girl."

Thor snickers at the image of a tiny child with ponytails listening to bedtime stories about wolves. The sense of protection tightens inside him, a strong force washing him entirely. This girl lacked so much in her life it made him guilty he hadn't found her sooner.

"Yes, I am. Been since my father's demise." His voice gets lower when mentioning his father, only to shrug it off and gaze down, sinking into her neck, arms unexpectedly around her waistline. "You smell pretty good."

A soft whimper pushes through as she tangles her fingers in his blond hair, finding out it was even better and smoother than she thought. Carefully, she puts her own arms around the broad shoulders, diving into the hug. It felt good. She, in one of the rarest moments of her life, felt safe.

There was this humming sound coming from his chest as his nose trailed up her neck, taking in her scent, feeling himself get drunk in it. His mind fought to get control back but it couldn't, not when the instincts were this strong. The bud just at the crook of her neck called him out again, how he wanted to bite it.

"Um-" She whispers unsure. "-Thor,"

"Yes?"

"I think someone's coming." With her nose in the air, she recognised the azaleas odour quickly. "Natasha."

"Good nose, little wolf." There's a lingering when he kisses her cheek. "You'll stay then?"

"I will."

Not a little after he reluctantly releases the wrap on her, a gorgeous red haired woman walked inside, carrying a tray with much more food than she had had in a week, which was saying a lot, considering she barely had enough to pay for rent.

Natasha cocked an eyebrow, glaring up from the newest pack addition to her Alpha, wondering to herself how she'd clean up his mess this time. Not that he was much of a womaniser, but he also wasn't the settle down sort of man, which was why she was always comforting the Omegas that fell for him.

Dammit.

"Didn't know you were here, Boss."

"Just checking in with her, Natasha." Thor towers her, one large hand on her shoulder. "She's staying with us after all."

"That's good, Feisty." She winks at the girl still sat on the upholstered storage bench, who smiles shyly, gazing down. "I could've done that for you, you know."

"Yeah, but I wanted to talk to her myself." His shoulders drop. "Get her to meet everybody else and be sure to start training her."

"Train her? You don't seriously think she's got in her to be a fighter, do you?" Natasha's astonishing green eyes were wide. "She's sweet and innocent, Boss, she should be taking care of our children, not in the field, fighting."

"Do as I tell you to do." It comes out so harshly, Romanoff shrinks a little, all of her instincts telling her to bow to her superior when her mind screams to shove a punch on that stupid bloody jaw of his. "I need to go to the city, duty calls. I'll be back for dinner."

"Sure thing, Boss."

As soon as he leaves the room, Natasha huffs, placing the tray on the left nightstand. The other woman had stayed quiet, simply observing them discuss, the pair had such a silent intimacy when talking she could guess they were lovers at some point. Despite knowing it was crazy, everything about the last day was, she felt herself a little jealous.

Smacking her lips, she stood up, going over to pick up an apple, Natasha still watching her, analysing and thinking how she could turn that girl into a warrior. Thor was crazy. Really, completely insane.

"Can I give you a piece of advice?"

"Sure, Ms Natasha."

"Call me Nat, Feisty." With an eye roll, she chuckles. "Don't get involved with Thor."

"Are you two…?"

"No!" There's a burst of laughter all of a sudden. "I'd never… I have my eyes on somebody else."

"Oh."

"What I'm saying is he's a complicated man and I don't want you to get hurt."

Of course. The thrilling that was still pumping across her veins started to die out, his presence no longer speeding up the adrenaline production, her mind snapping back into place, clawing its way back from the pit it had been thrown inside when that thunderstorm walked inside her room.

"Sure. I see."

"Now finish eating and come with me, we have got a lot to do today."

The mansion was far prettier than she remembered it to be from what she saw the day before. It had many rooms, most of them already occupied by the house wolves of all kinds, Alphas, Betas, Omegas… Natasha explained to her that it was Thor’s responsibility to watch out for them, the less favoured, the pack-less ones, to nurture them as long as they needed it. Some left after a couple of months, others after a few years, but there were always some who stayed. Like herself.

It was a lovely morning outside, the sun bathing every living thing. From the tall trees, wildflowers and chirping birds to the moist soil. A summer day indeed, her senses vibrating to the good energy. She enjoyed those the most, especially as a kid, when she could watch the white clouds take different shapes in the blue, clear sky whilst her skin tingled to the radiating heat coming from above.

Circling the house, there was a quite nice backyard, where a couple of people were exercising. Some were doing laps across the green field, some were wrestling in a corner and the rest was just enjoying the good day, sitting in picnic towels to chat. They lived so peacefully in there she couldn’t fathom how could some leave that place.

“Hey, Nat.” One tall, blond man jogged towards the two. “Who’s this one?”

“This is Steve, Feisty,” Natasha says, smiling. “She came here yesterday, the Johnny and Louis situation.” The name of her assaulters makes the girl sway in her steps, suddenly nervous, which doesn’t go unnoticed. “Oh, sweetie, don’t worry, really. Those guys, they didn’t really belong to our pack, they were just doing business for Thor, low-class soldiers.”

“It’s fine.” The woman whispers, still adjusting to the place where she can actually vocalise what she feels. “It’s not your fault, anyway.”

“She looks sweeter than feisty, Nat.” Steve smiles comforting, sustaining the distance to make sure she would calm down and changing the subject. “But I suppose you see it in her.”

“He wants to make her a fighter.” She trails off, not bothering to specify whom she was talking about, Steve already knew, apparently. “Wants the whole training.”

His blue eyes shift between the two, taking a moment to scan the new girl. Much like Natasha, Steve seemed to think she also couldn’t be a warrior, which was starting to make her uncertain. Perhaps they were right. Maybe she didn’t have it in her to be a fighter... But she wanted to learn. She wanted to be able to defend herself so those filthy men couldn’t lay a hand on her ever again.

Of course, she didn’t dare to say something, keeping her eyes down meticulously.

“But has he asked her if she wants to?”

“I do.” It was soft, low sound. “I want to learn.”

“Okay, maybe she is feisty after all.” There’s a bright, beautiful smile on his kind face. “Do you want me to teach her, Nat?”

“On Thursdays, I suppose.” Nat sighs. “You know it’s the day he ships me off to hunt. The others, I’ll be with her. I think it’s best if she sticks with me for now.”

“Alright.” Her ears warm up when he looks at her again, she can catch the Alpha scent reeking from him. Not like Thor’s at all. He was more like old parchments and ink, a fresh new book and, oddly, Tulips. It wasn’t usual for Alphas to have a flowery odour. “It was nice to meet you, Feisty.”

She nods, sheepishly snickering at him before following Natasha through the people, whom the red hair made sure to introduce to her. The slender, gracious girl in the picnic towel was Wanda, she was a lovely Beta who looked out for the much younger children, the newborns Morgan and Harvey were her new concern, although they were the sweetest babies. Their heads smelt like powder and apples.

With a little bit of effort, Natasha got her moving, if it was up to her, she’d stay there the whole afternoon rubbing her nose on those little, soft heads. Despite being an Omega, meaning she knew she was born to be a mother, the desire was never really strong on her. Perhaps it was the fact she never found an Alpha that brought such desires within her.

The path was not over yet, so they kept walking, finding three of the most different men amidst themselves. Bucky was tall, handsome and smelt rough. Like he could single-handed curl a whole human body into a ball and toss it around like a basketball. Tony was shorter, a greyish beard covering his slim cheeks. A little weird, she thought, but he looked nice, his hands were warm when they shook hers. He also radiates confidence. Bruce was the last to be introduced. Opposed to Tony, he had a nervousness going on. It was so strong her nose crinkled to the smell.

Natasha spoke briefly with them, giving them tasks, for what she could discern. That woman should be the supreme Alpha’s right hand in ruling that place. Thor should really trust her, the girl presumes, to entitle her with so many responsibilities. She could see why, nonetheless - Natasha was strong, her presence alone imposes respect to anyone who looks at her, the way her chin is always up and shoulders always squared, no one would dare to cross her.

A couple minutes later, they stopped in front of a closed metal door, to which the red hair promptly opened with a small key that was tucked under her belt. The room behind was astonishingly nice, a large mirror covering the front wall, a fading grey ground with two sets of orange mats precisely apart and a few heavy sandbags in one corner.

While the girl was still in awe, absorbing the new surroundings, Natasha kicked off her shoes and the sweatshirt she had on, getting comfortable to practice. She’d start with focus, some light yoga classes to bring out the awareness and sense, also to warm up the muscles. Perhaps then she’d show her how to throw a powerful punch. Kicks would be nice as well.

The red hair went over stealthily towards the girl, both hands on her shoulders, correcting her stance, which got Feisty startled, her body jerking forward in fear. There was a soft laugh as she spun around to meet the green-eyed gaze from behind.

“Lesson number one? Never let your guard down.”

“Duly noted.”

“The key to being a good fighter is to be aware, Feisty.” It’s a fast movement and before she can tell, Nat pushes her to the ground, resting above her while pinning her hands up above her head. “Each flinch counts to save your life on the field.”

Squirming, she tries to break free, something that proves to be useless because the woman knows how to use her weight to keep her grounded, restrained. It is only when a low, frustrated grunt slips past Feisty’s lips that Romanoff lets her go, coming off of her to a sitting position, gently asking her to do the same, obtaining a religious result from the girl’s instinct to obey.

“Close your eyes.” Joining their hands, Nat watches her lids fall shut, chin still up, a flawless position. “Good. Now tell me. What do you hear?”

There’s a minor hesitation as the girl focuses on what her ears are telling.

“Fighting. There are two men panting, one is more injured because his breath is faltering.” Perhaps teaching her wouldn’t be as hard as she thought, Natasha’s mind wanders. “There are three kids running, one is heavier than the others because the footsteps sound harsher on the mud. Tony is complaining about the sweat and scolding Bruce for not bringing water.”

“Okay. Nice, Feisty. Good ear.” The girl opens her eyes to find her trainer’s features filled with satisfaction. “I’ll need you to focus on your breathing, forget the other sounds, pin yourself to this place, to the lift and fall of your belly. You can close your eyes if you want.”

It was a nice, comforting thing to do. Despite doing heavy work, Nat’s hands were smooth, so she chose to focus on that and the sound of the inflating of her own chest and how the air seeped through her nostrils so loudly. An awareness of her space began growing as the breath deepened, muscles stretching on her back, legs strong to keep her in place.

All the noise went mute, the ones in the room conquering her mind entirely. It also gave room for her to deliberate on how much her life changed in the past twenty-four hours, one day she was sleeping on a thin bed, barely enough to sustain her weight, and the other she was in a mansion, being nourished and welcomed by those wolves who didn’t even know her.

Before she could even settle to what was happening, Natasha lurched at her, dropping her to the ground once more, palm strongly against her sternum. It was a swift, gracious movement, one that many soldiers lacked, possibly giving the upper hand to her in a confrontation. Feisty groans, cursing herself for being distracted.

“I’m sorry.” An apologetic whimper comes through, whinier than it was intended to be. “It’s just so much to take in.”

“I know.” She’s gentle when she answers. “Being good at this doesn’t come naturally.”   

“I sure hope it doesn’t.” The joke is greeted with a laugh, Natasha rolling to the right and coming to a sitting position beside her, legs curled so she could hug them tight, cheek pressed on her knee. Her green eyes were nearly liquid. “Who taught you?”

“No one important."

“Do you think I can do it?”

“You can do whatever you want, Feisty.”  

“No,” Shaking her head, she toughens her glare, wishing to know her thoughts. “Do you think I can be good at this?”

A wave of guilt washes over the red hair, she never meant to bring such insecurity into that girl. When she questioned her boss as to why he wanted her to be a warrior, it was more in a protective way rather than a diminishing one.

“With training, yes. Of course.” She swallows hard, suddenly serious. “But really, do you want this? Do you want to fight?"

“I want to.” It’s a shy sigh. “I want to be able to stand up for myself, to not let people bully me or treat me like I'm nothing."

"It's not going to be easy, Feisty. You need to seriously commit."

"Ms Natasha-" There's a scowl on that gorgeous face. "-Nat," They giggle together. "I don’t have anywhere else to be. Don’t have any family, never really belonged to a pack. Committing to this place won’t really be hard.”

“How did you end up here? In this town, I mean.”

There is a silent juncture as she thought of the reasons that actually brought her to that city in particular. Honestly, it had been a random place, anywhere would be good as long as her father was far away from her. With her mum’s demise, she knew for sure that he would finally ship her off into the hands of a horrible old Alpha. So she ran, in the middle of a stormy night, clothes soaking wet when she walked inside the bus, not enough money in her pocket to last an entire week.

A tear streamed down, followed by many others. The bitter memories flooding and bringing out the emotions she fought hard every day to keep buried.

“You don’t have to talk about it, Feisty.” Nat nudges her shoulders, pulling her into a side hug. “I was just curious.”

“It’s fine, Nat, really, I just don’t feel comfortable yet to talk about it.” There’s understanding infused in the green of her eyes. “Can we go back to training?”

“Absolutely. Let’s work on your posture.”

She frowns, unsure of what she means. Up until now, she thought there was nothing wrong with it. Romanoff smiles, stretching her hand to guide her so they could stand in the middle of one of the mats, then swivelling around so she could be behind her, one hand over her tummy and the other between her shoulder blades.

“It’s really important to know where you stand and have some balance,” Nat explains. “That has a lot to do with your posture.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. You need to realise the weight of your body and shift it into your favour, so when you’re punching or kicking someone, you don’t end up with broken bones or distended muscles.” Her breath fans over the nape of Feisty’s neck. “Inhale. Exhale. Deeply.”

More breathing cycles and she starts to realise the energy flowing inside her, the weight each of her limbs represent. No doubt as to why Thor trusts her. Natasha really knows what she’s doing, what she’s teaching. Sure, there is still a long path ahead for her to become somewhat good at it, though she had a feeling that being mentored by Nat would certainly speed things up.

“Curl your hands into fists. That’s it.” Velvet hands instruct her arms to take the correct place, one slightly higher than the other, both beneath her chin. "Bend your knees." A delicate pressure from her own makes the girl bend. "Good. Hold for a moment."

Twitching on the muscles of her thighs makes her sway, Natasha going back behind her to ground her into place. It takes a while before she can do that alone, but as soon as she can, her trainer commands her to throw her first punch, the air whooshing as she does so. "Again". Another. And another. She kept punching the air until the Nat looked pleased with the precision.

Then, after a short break for a sip of water, it was time to finally get it going with the heavy sandbags. The warning that she’d be sore the next day wasn’t necessary. Natasha wrapped the girl’s hands with some white bandage to somehow protect the fingers and knuckles from the damage punching the bags could cause.

“Remember to put your weight into the punch, it’s more your arm than your fist.”

“Okay, I think I got it.”

“It’ll hurt.” The warning comes one second too late, her fist had already met the bag and a sharp pain was spreading quickly.  “You did good, don’t worry.”

“But it hurts!” She stutters, a gush of blood pooling on her neck and making it warm. A sign of embarrassment.

“Normal.” A slow massage eases the pain, soothing fingers touching the bruised skin. “What you have to do is pull through the pain, let it flow to the back of your arm, then you won’t feel so much.”

“Okay.”

The practice went on until it was almost two pm and the two women were definitely starving, stomachs growling rebelliously to get some food.

As they made their way back to the huge mansion, Feisty thought about Thor again. How he changed her life so much in so little time. If he hadn’t insisted for her to be trained, she wouldn’t be feeling that satisfied about her accomplishments, she wouldn’t be feeling this powerful, even though all she had learnt, and barely, was to punch a sandbag. It still felt big for her, so she made a mental note to search for him as soon as he gets home and thank him for all of that.

The wet green leaves, petrichor and thunderstorm scent came to her brain quickly, bringing along a huge smile. She was in trouble with that Alpha. Big trouble.

Night fell slowly, a mixture of pink, purple and orange still colouring the sky when she walked inside her bedroom, kicking off her shoes while putting her hair up in a bun, wiping the annoying sweat off of her forehead. It was crazy how hot it still was despite being close to ten pm.

A cold shower would be nice before sleep, she thinks, starting to undress herself, noticing a minor discomfort due to the new activities she had been doing throughout the day.  She hadn’t had a minute of rest, because as soon as lunch was over, Natasha took her back to the training room, easing her into the defence techniques. Feisty had been thrown on the ground more times than she could count that afternoon.

When dinner time came, her heart filled with hope and a longing to finally see those comforting blue eyes again, the sweet, but tough face. And to smell him. She came to know most of the scents in the house and not even one matched the effects Thor's had on her, even the Alphas. It felt to her that heady odour had been made for her, to calm and entice her at the same time. However, much to her disappointment, he never came. Never returned home.

Nat’s words thrummed within her head. She knew him for over six years now, that was how long she had been part of his pack, had been his friend. Of course, she was right about him, no matter how strongly Feisty’s gut pushed her into opening up her emotions into caring for Thor. Into opening her emotions up to welcome the Alpha gladly.  

Ugh.

Tossing the worn out outfit into a messy pile over the couch by the window, she quickly made her way towards the wardrobe, amazing herself upon finding stacks of new clothes inside it. They had been recently bought because they still had the labels from the shop, she was quick to pick one cute pyjama, loose grey shorts and a carebear white t-shirt. It’d be perfect to sleep on that hot night.  

Determined to inspect more of the piece of furniture, she got down on her knees and opened the bottom drawers only to find a variance of knickers and bras, of all colours, shapes and taste. Whoever bought all of those aimed to please her.

There was a moment of analysing before she finally chose one that'd be comfortable for sleeping, nestling it between the soft flannels PJ's. Only then she went to the bathroom, feeling icky from the sweat coating her back, arms and face.

The towel from the morning had been hung on a metal hanger by the door, possibly already dry from the warm temperatures. She snorted, not minding if it was or not, her room felt like an oven, so maybe she should skip the whole wiping the water off of her body.

Once under the cool water, hair bundled at the top of her head, Feisty moaned in pleasure, the water washing away the dirt. Her hands trailed down, rubbing gently the skin, the soap she had squished minutes before bubbling up. Two baths in one day? Heaven, her mind hummed, in full appreciation.

Between toes, under the arms. Bit by bit she cleaned herself up, feeling refreshed each second further into the shower. Once there was nothing else to wipe off, she stepped out, firmly decided to indeed not go for the towel, walking out very much naked.

What she wasn't expecting was to find a majestic man slouched on the couch, long legs wide while he was thrown back, lids heavy. Thor was handsomely asleep. She refrained the urge to trace the creases along his face with the tip of her fingers, abruptly realising how bare she was, the second time of that day he'd barged inside her room while showering.

A chuckle slipped as she got dressed quickly, being extra careful on her steps to not wake him up. He looked so peaceful, gentle. If anything, she wanted to pull him to her chest and undo the knots on his long, blond hair at leisure. Hear a soft moan of appreciation from him.

She sat beside him a few minutes later, just watching him. The soft wrinkles under his eyes, a grown out beard framing the most beautiful set of lips she'd seen, so pink and full. A gentle whimper fell off her lips, a tug at her lower abdomen forcing her legs to clasp together.

The sound startled him awake, electric blue scanning her whole to make sure she was okay. Thor had never experimented that before. Never had such a need to watch out after an Omega, an overwhelming pressure of his instincts.  

His hands found their way into cradling her face, pulling her closer to him, thumbs trailing up the cheekbones.

"Are you okay, little wolf?"

"Yeah." She says, lost in the sea of his eyes. "Are you?"

It was naive of her to ask, she realised soon. Of course, he was, despite looking tired, okay. He was mighty, it would take an immense power to even scratch him.  

Thor's booming laugh filled the room.

"Yes. I am okay." Soon enough he buried his head in the crook of her neck, taking in her inebriating scent. Not an ounce of shame in his features, like it was something he did on a daily basis. Like they weren't strangers. "You're so sweet, little wolf. Were you worried about me?"

"Y-yes." The vibration of his voice made her stutter. "I wanted to thank you, but you didn’t come for dinner."

The arms wounded around her waistline tightened, protectively inching her closer, in a way that forced her cheek into his strong shoulder, a surprised squeal falling from her lips.

“I don’t want you worrying about me.” His voice pitched low, lips now pressed on the top of her head. “I care for you, not the other way around.”

“Thor…” It’s nothing but a mellow whisper, but something inside him stirs, a grumbling coming from his chest. “I-I… Why do I feel like this?”

“Like what?” The question is more rhetorical than an actual doubt. He knows what she’s on about. If she feels an inch of what he feels when he’s around her then they’re both in trouble.

She sighs, wiggling out of his sheltering hug only to stand on her knees, arms wrapping around his wide shoulders in a motherly way, huddling him against her chest, his face nuzzled on her breasts. Thor didn’t complain, humming instead in a pleasing way.

“Like what, little wolf?” He urges voice muffled on the t-shirt.

"I don't know. I can't explain it. It's just, we met a day ago and your scent is so overwhelming… I've never felt like this before. Never so soon and never so strong."

Thor lets out the air in his lungs in sharp exhale, pushing her away delicately so he could look into the so very much innocent eyes. Her hair fell from her bun framing her face like a painting, or so it was how he saw it.

In a swift action, she was sprawled in his lap, his head once more on her neck. He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to think about how fast and how easy it had been for him to grow addicted to that sweet girl. To the smell that lit a fire within him.

She felt to him as a gift the universe was giving him after so much loss, even if it meant a liability for the powerful undefeatable Thor.

"Did you like it?"

"Uh?" Lids were heavy when Feisty replied, the tips of her fingers swirling around the prominent vein on his bicep.

"The clothes." Thor mumbles. "I bought them for you and had them delivered."

"Oh." A sudden warmness fills her up once she realises he had taken time to worry about that. To think about her. "Yes, I like them. You shouldn't have though."

"Nonsense." Something in his laugh gets her eyes open again. "Has Natasha treated you well?"

"Yes." A spark of excitement washes through her. "She taught me a lot today."

"Did she?"

Feisty nods, grinning genuinely at him, the fond memories of the afternoon flowing behind her eyes, shared laughs and a new intimacy that she never knew she could experience with someone else. More than helping her build fighting skills, Natasha was teaching her what it meant to be somebody’s friend.

They stay sit for a little while, neither willing to break from the torpor their scents lulled them into. Thor's fingers sneaking into her hair, toying with the strands in a soft manner that got her sleepy quicker than it should have, her eyes hefty.

"Nat really tired you out, didn't she, little wolf?"

"Hmmm, yes." She slurs, clinging to his clothes like a baby. "It was nice."

"I'm glad it was."

"She said-" By now, Feisty's half asleep. The heat coming from his body cuddling her like a warm blanket. "-Said I shouldn't get involved with you. You're trouble and you'll break my heart."

Those words sting him, the mere thought of causing pain to her being unbearable.  He could hear the wolf inside howling for him to squeeze her further into his embrace, to protect her from any harm. She was his Omega to look after and that was what he was going to do. At all costs.

A soft tug on his collar forces him to gaze down, his insides spiralling from how defenceless that little wolf looked, index finger tracing careless patterns on the skin of his shoulder.

“Will you?” She asks then, one eye open.

“I would never hurt you, little wolf.” Thor’s large hand nestles her face, urging their glares to bore on one another. “Never.”

Nodding slowly, she stares at him a little longer, then hides her face on his neck again, breathing deeply, his exhilarating smell sending her into a gratifying haze. She didn’t know if it was a dream or not, but not a single cell in her body wanted to wake up if it was. Thor felt like home all over again, Natasha’s words were long forgotten now.

Tenderly clutching her into his chest, he got back on his feet, the woman’s legs quick to clasp around his waistline, snuggling her nose further into the crook of his neck, moaning to the strength it got to her. One day she hoped to understand how was it possible that it was so good, not today though. Today she just wanted the thrill it gave her.

When he tried putting her down to the bed, she groaned, tightening her arms around his shoulders, pulling him to lie with her. Sure, she wasn’t as strong as him, she would never be, considering he was a supreme, nonetheless, Feisty wanted to stay skin close to him still. He couldn’t leave her. Not when she felt so good.

“You need to sleep, little wolf,” Thor mumbles, kissing her forehead. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“No.”

“Little wolf…”

“Stay.” There’s demand beneath her voice. “Sleep here with me.”

His nostrils flare as the blue unexpectedly disappear, black pupils back, taking control. She’s not sleepy anymore, all her senses are very much aware to the greedy vibe he’s letting off, the alpha stench that gets her core to itch, empty and craving. For him.  

“Can’t do that.” Feisty squirms, clasping her legs together as she reaches for his arm, hand ridiculously small when in comparison to the size of his bicep. “You need space, need to be alone.”

“That’s not what I need.” Her inhibitors were nearing a tenuous line, actions filled with lust and driven by instinct. “Stay.”

“You’re not-”

“I’m not asking you to mount me, Thor.” The sentence erupts a stir within his trousers,  a picture taking shape in his brain. “I couldn’t sleep well yesterday, so stay with me. Your smell calms me.”

Low blow, he thinks.

“I can leave anytime you ask me.” It slips smoothly, eyes switching back to glorious blue. She smiles, standing up, and palms softly the stiff abdomen, slipping underneath to find the strong muscles tensing up under. “What are you doing?”

“I like touching you.”

Thor snickers, his own hands finding hers, bringing them both to his face, cheek pressing the mellow skin, scraping it with his beard. Lastly, he kissed her knuckles, exchanging a confident gaze. Anyone close enough could catch the intimacy in the air, regardless of them not ever having had one kiss.

Not necessary. At least not yet.

“You’re always honest like that?”

“No.” Her nose flies to his chest, opening her mouth to fully taste him.  “With you, I feel I can though. I am not embarrassed by you.”

“Is that good or bad?”

It’s Feisty’s turn to snicker, looking up at him.

“It’s good, Thor. Means I trust you.”

"How can you?"

A sigh escapes whilst she is again conflicted by the rush of emotions she's feeling. It's a question she lacks an answer, so she shrugs, clutching to him like a puppy, such a warm, tender hug she felt like she would melt inside it.

Thor kisses the top of her head, pushing her to lie down again, she grunts when he pulls away to undress, kicking off his black leather boots and tossing away the shirt. He was hesitant, however, on taking off his pants, catching her glare locked on him, eyes hungry.  

"You can't look at me like that, little wolf."

"How am I looking at you?" He can taste the innocence in her words.

"You're looking at me-" A sudden pause as Thor finally disposes of his jeans, joining her in the bed. She curls herself on him, legs mingling together while her head rests on his wide chest. "-Dammit. You're looking at me like you need me."

The air pushes out of her in a gasp, propping herself up in his chest, gazing at him curiously. His blond hair was loose, scattered across the pillow, eyes like a peaceful sea. He seemed like he was at home too, and that thought made her heart shake, pumping faster.

"I don't know what I'm going to do with you, little wolf," Thor says mindlessly, tugging her hair, caressing in a way that made the tips of her toes tingle. "Come, sleep."

There's a brief silent moment after he pulls her to lie down, cradling her.

"Thor?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks." She speaks sweetly, pressing her lips to the side of his body. "This much more than I could've ever wished for."

Feisty feels a shift under her as he chuckles, still in awe with that beautiful creature lying with him. It was by far the most precious who had ever taken that place. Who had ever touched him like that.

It scared him. And her. Both so frightened of what that could mean. Yet, none of them had the strength to prevent it, to push it off. It was inevitable.

tags!

marvel: @frenfics

thor: @lancsnerd @odinson-barnes

untouched: @slutlanna976 @rahma29417 (for some reason the tag won’t work) @truthdaze @innerpaperexpertcloud

[lonelypond]

Soldier Game: Operation LA Smile, Ch. 2

NicoMaki, Love Live, 1.7K, 2/?

Summary: Maki flees the scene, Eli meets Nozomi, Umi amuses herself, Hanayo makes an appearance, and Nico decides on a distraction.

Chapter Two: Party Planning

Maki, not yet awake enough to open her eyes, pushed into something warm, firm, feeling herself relax, and then the images started playing behind her eyes, Yazawa so close, hands everywhere, asking, then taking over, then...Maki froze. If she opened her eyes now, what kind of look would be on Nico’s face. Best just to pretend to be asleep.

Pretend or not, the next time Maki was aware of anything, she felt colder. A quick sneak peek. No Nico. Wrapping the towel around her, Maki sprinted for the door, almost tripping over the weight she now had to shove aside. The hall, which way to the Soldier Game temporary office? To the left, Maki turned, and there was Umi, smirking, calmly waiting to see what Maki would do next.

Maki pulled the towel completely closed around her, hurrying past this obstacle. “I just need my go bag.”

“Rough workout?” Umi’s teasing voice always grated, “Need a shower?”

“Bite me.”

“Is there a line?”

Maki whirled, snarling, “I am so breaking you next time we spar.”

Umi shrugged, “That will never happen.”

“Oh it will. You can bet on it.”

“But I won’t.”

Maki didn’t have the mental energy for Umi in taunting mode. Most of her attention was listening for Nico’s voice so she could sprint away before Nico stepped into the hall.

“See you at dinner. Bring a friend.” Umi smiled.

“I’ll be in my hotel. Alone.” That was the rest of her evening. Every scented candle in Tokyo lit, lights low, music calming, soaking off this surprise encounter, forgetting what Nico smelled like when sweat and sex steamed off of her, long, lush, black hair slick, Maki’s legs were starting to wobble and if she didn’t get away soon...not thinking about that, Maki straightened herself up...ha! Inner Maki snorted, good luck with that...and rushed toward more clothes than this barely clinging bikini bottom.

 ###

Ayase Eli was sharp, trim, on task and on time. Her suit was pressed, her hair in a high ponytail, her agenda to the point after a series of revisions. She didn’t need directions to the office assigned for her official meeting with Tojo-san. Eli was here to be the public face of Soldier Game, bringing together her friends to use their celebrity cachet to boost Japanese tourism, which had taken a huge hit due to the coronavirus pandemic and panic. Even with the advances in treatment and prophylactic treatments, with no vaccine, air traffic to Asia from the United States and Europe had suffered huge declines. And then there was the more important Soldier Game mission, ensure delivery to an underground biohacker network of biological data camouflaged by the designers of Feather Smile. The mission would start with a two week quarantine and reconnaissance in the hills of Malibu while their Hollywood contact Kousaka Honoka finalized photoshoot and filming details.

This was the office. Eli knocked politely and heard a trilled, breathy “Come in.” She opened the door and behind the desk, leaning forward, elbows on the desk, chin cupped in her hands, green eyes confident and friendly was a tall buxom woman in a floral dress and dark blazer combo.

“Tojo-san? I’m Ayase Eli.”

“Call me Nozomi.” There was a giggle, “I recognize you from the snaps in your file.”

“Of course.” Eli bowed her head.

“Please take a seat, Ayase-san. Umi has been sharing details of your procedures and requirements so some of the groundwork has been done.”

Eli nodded, “Before we get into that, may I ask who you work for?”

Nozomi chuckled, “You can certainly ask, although I can’t share all the details with you. It’s a governmental subdivision focused on international relations.”

“And you requested Soldier Game because…”

Nozomi leaned back, eyes narrowing, voice crisper, “I intend to take advantage of the male tendency to dismiss attractive women as anything but prey. My contact needs this information and my usual couriers would be at risk. We need a diversion.” A pause and a bright smile, “How’re your tan lines?”

“Huh?” Eli saw why Umi had noted that conversations with Tojo-san could quickly become unpredictable.

“FeatherSmile has decided on a beach and boxing theme.”

“And FeatherSmile is involved because…?” Eli hadn’t really paid that much attention to the dossier on the designers.

“They have the skills and technology I need for this mission. Surely you’re not planning to underestimate them, Ayase-san?” Nozomi arched an eyebrow to judgy.

Eli blushed slightly, “No, this is just very high profile. I’m wary of the risk to our covers. I want to be certain everyone involved is a professional.”

Nozomi stared at Eli for an uncomfortable length of time and then giggled, “Just smile and look pretty and make sure nobody shoots the talent. We’ll take care of the rest.”

###

Kotori was humming as she worked on a dress. Nico shut the door to their atelier and threw herself on the divan.

“I think we should design and cut the whole collection during the two week quarantine.” Nico announced.

Kotori took her foot off the foot control pedal of her sewing machine and spun her stool around.

“It gives us more time to prep the fabric and make some contingency plans.” Nico seemed fascinated by the floor, her voice disinterested.

“Did something happen?” This Nico mood was rare and difficult to read so Kotori was very very curious.

“Things always happen, but Nico has it under control.” Nico waved her hands before flipping on her back, staring at the ceiling, “But a behind the scenes video would be a big FeatherSmile boost, especially with eye candy like that around.”

“Eye candy?” Kotori raised an eyebrow, “That sounds a bit…” Kotori paused, “predatory for you, Nico. Are we over the sexual harassment policy now? No more lectures?”

“Hey if,” Nico squeaked, winced and tried again. “Hey, if they want to wander around saying, “woo hoo, look at me, I am surface-of-the-sun hot”, Nico is going to take them at their consenting adult status.”

“Who is them, Nico?” Kotori asked quietly as she went back to the dress. Nico had to be edged into truths, not stared into them.

Silence, the chug of Kotori’s needle for minutes, then Nico threw herself back upright and pulled out her phone. “We have the bon voyage party tonight, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Want to sign some bras?” Nico smirked.

Now Kotori was insatiably curious. “We haven’t had an event like that…” since the launch of their underwear lines last Christmas ago. Which had nearly been a riot. A very profitable, very pretty riot that had Kotori spending the night partying with several fans in the FeatherSmile reserved suite. Nico had been chatting up investors at the bar. And their Spring Line had been fully funded, sight unseen. And was now sold out.

“Might as well give Tokyo something to remember.” Nico raised her phone, adjusted her hair, flashed her lady killer glitter smile, and hit one touch record, then raising her hand in The Gesture™ “Nico Nico Ni! How are all Nico’s pretty ladies? If you’re not busy tonight and your C19-Pass is clear, FeatherSmile is throwing a “See You At The Beach” Party tonight at the Andaz Tokyo Rooftop Bar, with some fab celebrity guests!!! Catch us if you can, before we head for LA and design our latest beach and activewear collection. And we’ll be doing bra signings, so wear your FeatherSmile originals and get a Nico selfie and signature. Nico wants to see ALL her fans.” Even for Nico, the wink was outrageous. So she tossed the phone on the table with a low mutter Kotori barely caught. “And now Nico will be too busy for whatever Nishikino wants to do next.”

Ah. Nishikino. Nishikino Maki. The glaring redhead. Kotori wasn’t surprised, well, a little by the speed. But it seemed this was going to be a mission on hyperfuel.

###

Working from her porch, Hanayo had her laptop out, smiling as she paused to watch the alpacas and llamas wandering her ranch. They’d been sheared recently so many looked bare, but now Hanayo would have a usable amount of textiles for the FeatherSmile team as Ms. Tojo requested. So exciting to be involved with celebrities, Hanayo thought as she liked Sonoda Umi’s latest TWIG video, a warm up routine. And a photoshoot, with all of Soldier Game posing, beachwear Ms. Tojo had said, and….Hanayo reached for her hand fan and held her iced tea to her forehead. It did get a little hot out here. Hanayo had been following FeatherSmile since their debut so it was amazing to have the opportunity to actually get to meet Nico and Kotori. Hanayo’s eyes gleamed behind her glasses. She wasn’t going to think about the part of this that scared her, maybe finally getting on the radar of the pharmacops, instead she was going to stay focused on the excitement.

###

“They’re throwing a party?!?!?!?!” Maki was in the repurposed office that Umi had taken over for Soldier Game, going through their medical equipment stash. Tojo’s US contact would have most of what else they needed but Maki refused to travel without personally assembling her own kit.

“Yazawa wants a big bang.” Eli turned away from her screen.

Maki frowned, reading the FeatherSmile TWIG announcement on her phone, “Sign your bras?!?”

Eli shrugged, “It’s a thing they do. Their underwear line was an extremely romantic Christmas gift last year.”

“And comfy.” Umi didn’t pause in her kata.

Maki nearly dropped the surgical instruments she was holding, “You’re wearing some?”

“No, but I do own a few pieces. They are both frilly and practical.”

“And romantic?” Eli looked up from her paperwork with a teasing wink.

“That was not a consideration. I found the lace trim color contrast aesthetically pleasing and the support appropriate for everyday activities.” Umi finished her form and bowed. “If you do not wish to attend this evening’s festivities, Maki, I’m sure a tantrum would be an effective addition to the publicity brew.

Eli returned her attention to her paperwork, “And very in character.”

“I thought we were leaving tomorrow?” Maki ignored her colleagues’ suggestion.

“Flight got pushed back a day. Tojo’s having some red tape problems. I am assisting her.” Eli started entering numbers into her desktop, “And some of our more sensitive equipment will go through the diplomatic pipeline, which is a huge plus.”

Maki went back to sorting medicinal necessities, occasionally muttering sentences ending with, “bra.”

A/N: The world needs more fun stuff so I decided to post this and just kick off the next chapter with a huge party. Also, Happy Birthday, Nozomi!

Take care, especially if you're out there doing the good work of protesting police brutality against Black lives.

[notexactlyrocketscience]

Modern-day Feminism And Normalizing/desexualizing Female-presenting Nipples: Does It Really Matter?

The other day I came across a meme showing an image of Savitribai Phule (a historical figure known as the first woman teacher of India), labeled “The feminist we want”, and below it an illustration of several women of different ethnicities (braless, with spunky haircuts, tattooes and piercings, taking selfies with their toungues out) labeled “... the feminists we get”.

Images and thoughts like this produce nothing but harm. They aren’t funny, they aren't proof that modern-day feminism is a failure.

In fact, both images are proof of feminism at its finest, and why it is NEEDED.

A large, and extremely important part of modern-day feminism is the erradication of the objectification of women, and the normalization of the existance of female sexuality. The point? Reduction of assault, rape and the victim-blaming that comes with it.

Still find it weird?

I’ll share a personal story to make this clearer.

When I landed in the US (San Antonio, Texas, to be precise) in December 2018, the first feeling that hit me was how liberating it was to not FEEL eyes on me. To be able to wear the clothes I always wore, but not have to be in constant vigilance if my dupatta was out of place, if my top didn’t cover my ass over my full-length jeans, if my bra strap was showing, and if the way I was sitting looked “improper”. And I’d say most, if not all, girls feel the same after stepping out of Sylhet, Bangladesh.

When I started university, I noticed girls sitting in classrooms with their legs splayed out, enough for their underwear to show if they were wearing a skirt. I noticed girls wearing shorts short enough that their buttcheeks hung out. Girls wearing crop-tops showing a whole LOT of cleavage to school. Girls scratching their inner thigh and their back in public, sitting with their phones stuck between their thighs, near their crotch. Girls who went braless. Girls with tattoos, leg hair, armpit hair, stretch marks. Girls with flab or with toned, tanned muscles. Girls wearing strappy or off-shoulder tops. Girls outside, running in loose activewear shorts the size of underwear and a sports bra, with their phone struck in the strap.

And for about one month, I couldn't stop sneaking peeks. I'm not attracted to women, but I'd never SEEN women be so carefree about their bodies before. I hardly even KNEW all the shapes and sizes legs and breasts and stomachs and arms came in. So I tried not to stare, but I also kind of did.

I also saw girls that’d start dancing, loudly singing, or climbing walls completely at random. They'd snatch things from guys, punch people, and then go to the gym, where there are no separate sections for women. Those same girls wore makeup, posted glamourous pictures on Instagram with their toungues out (and stories showing educational illustrations about female genitalia), and used accessories that were stereotypically feminine.

And I'd look at all that loudness, and I'd despise those girls instantly. "She's one that's out for attention," I thought.

But I was wrong. The way she was loud and active and attention-grabbing and extroverted? If a guy had done those same things, I'd have thought of it as NORMAL. She wasn't an attention-seeker. She was just being herself. She was being ... like a guy. Confident in her own skin, knowing that no one except mysogins would judge her for it.

Backward-minded people ... like me. A girl who has identified as a die-hard feminist all her life.

I’ve since had to rearrange my entire image of what it means to be a girl, just because I had the opportunity to move to a country which hasn’t completely achieved equality but finally has a generally decent society that accepts women not as “women”, but as humans (unlike in Sylhet). I’ve realized that I’m an incredibly two-dimensional person compared to other girls here. My traits are the same as a bunch of other Sylheti girls, because that's the only way we can define ourselves and be accepted as good women. I can't explain to you what it's like to walk in a crowded grocery store in which everyone from the homeless to the wealthy shop, and just know that when someone walks by me, all they'll see is a young student wearing a UTSA T-shirt. They won't see a stupid girl that's all alone in a large store at night. They won't see a shameless girl without a dupatta. They won't see a girl that's disturbingly thin or disgustingly fat. They won't see an promiscuous girl who actually dares sit down with her legs NOT squeezed together tightly.

They'll just see a young person. And they'll smile and say hi and move past.

I no longer stare at women's bodies, no matter what they're wearing. Not just because I actively taught myself it's not right, but simply because I got used to seeing all that skin. I got used to other women's bodies. After nineteen years of being a woman myself (and never even bothering to glance at men wearing nothing but underwear-sized shorts, because I was so used to it), it took me a move to the other side of the planet to stop over-sexualizing the female body too, even though, just like the male body, it's only a normal, adult body.

Because research says systematic segregation and censoring by society only adds to objectification. Because the best way to normalize any kind of phobia, any kind of new concept, is through actual exposure therapy.

Yet you don’t even have to run around naked to fight for getting rid of objectification and over-sexualization. Feminism is about free choice. You can cover as much as you want to and still support everyone else having a choice in their lives and not being forced into anything (if you’re a muslim, like me, you already know that isn't tolerated in Islam). You can still support the women who choose to actively combat objectification, and stand by them with your own CHOICE of clothing, just like them, and fight to not be harassed because of it (looking at people who automatically, without good reason for the particular instances they come across them, see headscarves as “oppression” or “extremist” instead of a personal, wholesome, religious lifestyle choice).

I can't speak for my male friends, but I daresay they stared too, when they first landed abroad. And I daresay by now they're too used to it to bother anymore (unless it's something exceptionally eye-catching). I daresay they no longer oversexualize women's arms, legs, buttocks, and breasts either, even when women are working out, lounging in weird poises, or bringing attention to certain body parts by randomly itching them publicly.

I daresay they wouldn't even think of judging these women's morals for it (I wouldn't).

I daresay they actually find it refreshing to find women with many more dimensions to them, women who are more alive and carefree and ambitious and LIVING. Women that are less afraid, every moment, of behaving the wrong way or giving the wrong idea, to be slut-shamed and victim-blamed. That know that, above all, they'll be treated as human.

⠀

[wasgoodshan]

Get Your Sexy On: How to Achieve The Confidence Of A Goddess

Hey ladies! Sexiness comes from within yourself; it isn’t all about what turns you on or the lack of clothes you wear. In order for you to have a great sex life and sensuality, you have cultivate a new positive outlook on your self-confidence. Have you ever taken nude pictures of yourself to boost your confidence? The first step to fearless confidence is to know that you’re beautiful from the outside to the inside. You don’t have to look like Rihanna or have the smallest waist like Summer Walker to be seen as sexy. It can range from all types of body shapes and looks; you just need the confidence to fight against any hater in your way.

“I had to grow to love my body. I did not have a good self-image at first. Finally it occured to me, I’m either going to love me or hate me. And I chose to love myself. Then everything kind of sprung from there. Things that I thought weren’t attractive became sexy. Confidence makes you sexy.” — Queen Latifah

I admit, I have struggled with confidence when I hit my puberty stage. A lot of girls my age were starting to gain weight, grow breasts and pack in the back; while, I looked like a tree branch. I would always try to stuff my bra or catch onto the trends to be considered “one of the cute girls” at school. It was hard trying to catch attention in a ocean full of blooming girls. This lead to deep insecurities and often, I would shy away from opportunities due to lack of confidence. This was a lesson learned because I know how it can be for a young African-American female to live in a world that praises the opposite of what we look like. This can negatively affect how many of our girls see themselves as they grow up into young women. Many girls who become age will save up money to go under the knife to achieve the “bottle shape” or seek ways to change their hair texture, skin color, etc. There are an abundance of sexy African-American women who have conquered the industry and proved to the world that you don’t have to be white, skinny, and blonde to be seen as beautiful.

Once you find the confidence that you’ve always wanted, the world will feel like your runway. As cliche it may sound, it’s the truth. Your confidence will unlock so many things about yourself that you never knew you had such as a daring attitude, a sex appeal, etc. Sexiness comes from within and once you find that shine, it will ooze out of you. I would provide steps to finding your inner confidence; however, the process is very different for everyone. It’s up to you to know what gives you the ultimate confidence to see yourself as this sexy ass woman who can accomplish anything. I hope you find your shine so you can share it with all of us. I only want to see the best version of you, so now bring that sexy beast out.