#sweaty women in sport bras

[bbokicidal]

Not a Need, but a Craving | Loser!Perv!SKZ

Warnings: Chris is lowkey a creep here lol, Perverted behavior; Panty stealing, slapping of tits/ass/face, hair pulling, up-the-skirt pics, one-sided masturbation, meandom?Jeongin Pairing: OT8 [individual] x Fem-implied!Reader Genre: Suggestive but not smut (well.. sort of. 18+) Notes: Based loosely off of this perv!skz post I did a while ago. <- read this first!

방찬

Relation: Trainees

❥ Chris tells himself he'll delete these pictures every time he takes them, but he always ends up adding them to the the album specifically curated towards you and your -- well, the panties he deemed so cute and so sexy, enough so that he needed the pictures on his phone or he'd die. It was the only thing that he could get off to at this point; Women just didn't ever seem to want to come home with him so he could actually get some pussy, so...

❥ He's almost... proud of himself with how slick he's gotten; Taking pictures up your dress at the club when you're dancing against him, sneaking a photo or two up your skirt on the train while you wait to get off, or even up your nightgown when you're in the kitchen making breakfast for him after he stayed the night because the ride home was hours long and you had too big of a heart to let him go so late in the night.

❥ And of course he knows you can never find out. You're pretty, popular amongst the trainees and he's -- yeah, he's been there a long chunk of time but he doesn't have a ton friends or go out with people like you do. If you found out, if anyone found out, he'd be kicked out of the company and he'd never see you - or your pretty pussy and cute lacy panties - ever again...

리노

Relation: College students

❥ Minho is always touching you. When he can, at least.

❥ It started all because you sat next to him when studying. He was there to help you, but you insisted on moving closer to look at the textbook he was gesturing to and the moment your thigh brushed against his own it was all over for him. He'd tensed up and choked on every word that tried to leave his throat, ears bright pink. He could even smell your perfume from where he sat.

❥ He knew almost immediately he needed more, so as he came over more often to help you with classwork - because that's all he was to you, a tutor - he would let you sit close or even ask you to come sit beside him instead of across the table so he could have you right there. He would think about it later, too; The way your hand lingered on his arm when you patted it and bid him goodbye that evening, the way your fingertips brushed over his own as you eyed the textbook together.

❥ Maybe he was a bigger loser than he thought, getting off just from the simple touch of a pretty girl he shares a class with. (Not that he'd ever admit to you that sometimes he comes in his pants when your thighs touch his own under the table...)

창빈

Relation: Gym buddies

❥ Changbin was... still shameless.

❥ But even less so, now. He'd begun asking you to come to the gym with him all three times of the week he went - his schedule a bit busier than normal these days - and every single time he would go home and right away hop in the shower to tug on his cock.

❥ He'd started doing this... thing. He swore it was so that at the end of the year, you could create a video that showed your progress over every day you spent together at the gym working hard - but really, Changbin took photos of you two together at the end of your workouts just so he could use them while he got off later that evening. The sight of your hair all messy, you in slightly damp workout leggings and a sports bra, skin shiny with a thin layer of sweat...

❥ He knew it was a little gross, using your body to get off like that. Especially when you were sweaty in all of the pictures - But he preferred it that way. He could hear your heavy breathing in his ears even hours after you'd parted ways, the way your chest bumped his arm as he flexed and you held up a playful peace sign and smile. Call him gross all you want - He knew what he liked, and what he liked was you.

현진

Relation: Friend of a friend

❥ The collection was growing day by day and Hyunjin was getting more and more bold with every move he made. He never got the real thing because girls just weren't interested in him with his long hair, glasses, and pretty round eyes; so this was the best he'd get.

❥ He'd started sleeping over more often, using Felix as a reason to even be there in the first place. You two were close, he was close with the Australian - so he was automatically invited too, right? Right! And when he was over at your house and you were distracted playing a game with Felix, well - what was Hyunjin to do but go through your drawers and find something to take home with him?

❥ He's got favorites, of course. Anything pink is by far at the top of his 'I want this' list, stealing a lacy pair the first time he came over - then two more pair, one set seamless and the other covered in cherries, the next time he visited. Luckily for you, he doesn't stay the night at your place too often, or you'd be running out of underwear constantly with how he's stealing them left and right.

❥ But Hyunjin swears he's seen you stealing glances at him here and there, so... maybe if you knew he was using them to jerk himself off every night or sleeping with them curled up near his face so he could rest with your scent right beside him, you'd be more open to just handing him a pair to keep.

❥ It's only a matter of time before he starts taking the used ones.

한

Relation: College Roommates

❥ Jisung can't help the way he's just so... submissive? Around you?

❥ Let me explain. Jisung's developed a real bad habit of acting like he needs help from you when you're around because if he needs help, you'll touch him. He'll eat messier than normal so you'll wipe his lips clean for him - and yes, he'll practically come in his pants at the feeling of your thumb so close to slipping in his mouth - or he'll almost act as if he doesn't know how to do something so you'll hold his hands while you explain or hold onto him as you help him learn how to do something. Even if he's just faking being a bit of a himbo so you'll help him.

❥ And one of the reasons he gets away with this ^ so easily? Is because he's a known loser around campus and he's constantly teased for it. And you..? Well, you're the pretty girl who takes pity on him.

❥ His favorite is when you come to check on him at night or peek in to see if he's sleeping before you shower. He'll hum out that his head hurts or that his back aches from training all day or working out - and you'll comb his hair through your fingers or rub your hands down his back until he's falling asleep under your touch. And while, yes, it does help him sleep in the long run - it also makes him rock hard. The moment you leave the room after he 'falls asleep' he's rutting his hips down against the mattress and whimpering your name into his pillow.

필릭스

Relation: Best friend's brother

❥ Felix is affectionate with everyone he's close to. But you -- you're beautiful, and soft, and your tits are just so...

❥ Call him a loser if you want - he knows it's what he is. A desperate, shy, sweet angel who's booksmart and tries way too hard to be cool, who hangs around the pretty, popular girl because she's his sister's best friend. Just the precious little brother who sees that gorgeous girl once or twice a week at his home and takes it as an opportunity to hang around her; Hugging onto you, burying his face in your neck, cuddling up close during movies.

❥ And you let him cling to you because 1) He's hot, and 2) You know it's the only touch from a woman he'll ever get. And you suppose you don't mind the way his hands wander over your body when he swears he's just cuddling close and getting comfortable. You're pretty sure he doesn't realize you know he's feeling you up and groping every curve of your body, but. Ignorance is bliss.~

승민

Relation:

❥ It starts as an accident.

❥ Seungmin's hand caught in your hair when he laid it on your back and as he pulled away, his ring caught and pulled. He'd moved away so fast it had been enough to make your head lull back, a gasp and yell of pain and laughter falling from your lips as you reach to push his arm away.

❥ And Seungmin... -- God. He's weak in the knees. He spots the way your mouth falls open, your nose crinkles and eyes close at the feeling of your hair being pulled. And he knows in that moment that he needs to see you like that again.

❥ So he does it as a joke; subtle and cautious about it at first. You'll play fight or bicker about anything and Seungmin will pull your hair, fingers fisted tight in the strands until his hand was so close to your scalp that he had full control of your head. On one instance he had pulled you close until his face was inches from yours, cocking a brow and listening to you whine about how tight he was holding onto your hair - and another, you'd dropped forward into his lap in laughter while he was still holding onto you and he swore he almost shot a load in his boxers. That was the closest a woman had ever been to his hips - And if you didn't feel the way his cock twitched against the side of your face, it would've been a miracle.

��이엔

Relation: Close friends

❥ Jeongin loves being a little mean to you because you're the only woman in his life who will let him get away with it.

❥ You're one of his closest friends, even if he's kind of lame and everyone looks down on him for being the youngest in his group - and you're the one who openly bickers with him, teases him, and he does it all back to you and you take it, which surprises him a little bit. You let him pull on you and wrestle with you or cling to you when he's tired, even if he's all sweaty and gross. But sometimes the wrestling or bickering turns to pushing and pulling on each other until you're both on the floor and he's holding you down while you're kicking to be free.

❥ The first time he spanks you, all he remembers is the way you cry out and feeling of your ass against his palm. He plays it off by laughing because that's what you do, completely disregarding it and brushing it off before spanking him as well in retaliation - and he lets it happen. Not because he's into it, but because he's too distracted with trying to figure out how to hide the fact that he's so hard it hurts.

❥ He's going to need more of that feeling in the future. He knows he does - so he does it again to test the waters and when you, once again, laugh at it and take it as play-fighting, he dares to go further. These days the two of you are always slapping at each other's arms and thighs and ass - but if he's feeling really bold he'll slap your tits and sometimes, your face. Gently, of course, little taps here and there when it comes to your cheeks. And each time you take it in stride with giggles and slapping him in return, while he gets off to it later that evening in the bathroom stall after practice, remembering the way you feel under his palms when he spanks you.

❥ And that's how Jeongin discovered his impact play kink.

Permanent Taglist :

@dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground

@thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

@jeonginsleftcheek @felixleftchickennugget @byeon-bae

[v6quewrlds]

&.⠀⠀PHASES⠀⋆⠀TEE HIGGINS.

pairing⠀⁎⠀tee higgins x reader. word count⠀⁎⠀3.8k.

summary⠀⁎⠀through morning sickness and tears, mood swings and wild food combinations, the one constant throughout the phases of your pregnancy has been tee.

author's note⠀⁎⠀wish it was longer but i don't think i can change or add anything without it losing the magic lol warnings⠀⁎⠀established but not explicitly labeled relationship, pregnant!reader, language.

read more⠀⁎⠀tee higgins masterlist.

The moniker, "morning sickness," was perhaps the most misleading term you had ever encountered. It wasn’t limited to the morning—in fact, it seemed to follow you like a stubborn shadow throughout the day. You’d be fine one moment, a pillow propped up behind your back, scrolling through social media on your phone, and the next, you’d be racing to the bathroom, your stomach in knots.

You had tried every trick and remedy presented by the women in your life. When your mother suggested ginger tea, you brewed it religiously, sipping it with a hopeful grimace each time. It didn’t work. When Tee’s mother swore by keeping saltines to nibble on before getting out of bed first thing in the morning, you tried it too, only to realize that the taste of the stale crackers was almost as nauseating as the sickness itself. When a random older woman at the OB/GYN’s office overheard you bemoaning your plight and suggested lemon aromatherapy, you rolled your eyes but gave it a shot anyway. It didn’t do much.

It was a peculiar mix of anxiety and guilt. As excited and blessed as you felt to be experiencing the miracle of creating life, the physical toll was taking a lot out of you. The guilt was overwhelming at times, as if your body was betraying your happiness. You’d sit on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, head between your knees, and whisper apologies to the baby growing inside you. Tee would find you there often, his own worry lines etched deeply into his forehead.

"Baby," he would say softly, sweetly, already moving to kneel beside you. "It’s okay. I got you."

You would moan in discomfort, not even bothering to look up at him. "I can’t do this," you’d say, your mouth bitter with the aftertaste of bile. "I feel so weak."

Tee would stroke your back, creating large, round circles. "You’re not weak, babe," he’d murmur. "You’re strong. Stronger than you think." His head would drop to kiss the side of your face. "This is just your body doing what it needs to do. I promise it won’t be like this forever."

You would nod, too drained to argue. The smell of his cologne was comforting, a faint scent of sandalwood and vanilla. It reminded you of better days, when your stomach was reliable and you didn’t have to plan your life around nausea. You’d lean into his touch, letting it soothe you, hoping that he was right.

Another wave would fall over you, twisting your stomach into a writhing mess. Tee’s grip on your shoulder tightened, his thumb tracing patterns into your skin as you gagged into the toilet bowl. He’d wait, patient as ever, until you were done. He’d remove your head scarf, knowing you were likely sweaty and hot. He’d help you to the bed, the same spot you’d collapsed into after a particularly nasty spell.

"You feel any better?" Tee’s voice was gentle as he sat beside you on the bed, placing a damp washcloth on your forehead. The coolness was heavenly, and you sighed in finding some level of relief. "Wanna take this off?" He carefully lifted your shirt, placing a hand on your belly which was just beginning to show the slightest curve.

You nodded, and he pulled it over your head, revealing your sports bra, the elastic digging into your skin slightly. You sighed again, this time with relief at the coolness of the room on your bare skin. "Thank you," you sighed, accepting the warmth of the duvet as Tee pulled it over you.

"Don’t leave," you managed to say as Tee moved to stand. Your hand weakly grabbed his wrist, your eyes closed.

"I want you to drink some water, baby." He cooed gently, sitting on the edge of the bed again. "Just a sip. Maybe some crackers too?"

"No crackers," you murmured, turning away from the thought. Tee smiled at that, understanding your distaste. He gently picked up your hand and held it to his mouth, kissing your knuckles.

"No crackers, just water?" Tee asked, his eyes searching your face for approval.

"Just water," you confirmed, your eyes still squeezed shut. You felt his warmth leave the bed as he moved to the kitchen. The sound of the fridge opening and closing reached your ears but didn’t quite penetrate the fog of your discomfort. You listened to the steady rhythm of his footsteps returning to your side, the sound of the plastic bottle cap twisting open, and the gentle splash of water as he poured it into a glass.

You took the glass from him gratefully, your palm still a bit clammy. Tee hovered, his eyes full of concern as you took a tentative sip. The water washed over your tongue, bringing a slight reprieve from the acidic taste in your mouth. He waited, his hand resting on your thigh, as you took a few more sips. "How you feelin’?" he asked, watching you take a deep breath, your head falling against his shoulder, your feet tucking underneath yourself.

"Pathetic," you murmured into his neck, feeling his skin under your cheek. "I’m sorry I’m struggling so bad. I don’t know how other women do this."

Tee let out a small sound of discontent, the sound rumbling through his chest and into your ear. "Everybody’s different, baby. You’re doing great." His hand began to stroke your thigh, the motion calming and reassuring. "I know you’re not feeling your best, but you’re giving life, and that’s the most beautiful thing in the world. I’m proud of you, so proud I get to be the one holding your hand through this."

You felt a warm tear slide down your cheek, and you didn’t bother to wipe it away. You knew Tee would feel it and understand without you saying a word. His hand moved up to cup your face, kissing your temple as he whispered, "I promised I’d take care of you, didn’t I? That’s what I’m gonna do."

He took the empty glass from you and set it on the bedside table. "Let’s get you some rest, baby. You need to keep your strength up for the both of you." He tucked you in, his movements slow and careful, as if you were made of the most fragile glass. You felt his weight shift as he stood, but you didn’t open your eyes.

"Blue or green?" Tee asked, holding up a tiny pair of baby sneakers in each hand. The Target shopping cart was already half-filled with diapers, a random assortment of household items, and a new set of coffee mugs for the kitchen.

"Green," you said immediately, your attention snapping from the baby outfit you'd been scrutinizing to the shoes Tee held. "They're so tiny. Can you believe he's going to fit into those?"

Tee smiled, placing the green shoes in the cart. "This shit is so wild. He gon' be fresh as hell though. Just like his daddy."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide your smile. You leaned into his side, your mood shifting slightly with the gentle brush of his hand on your waist. You continued to wander the aisles, discussing baby names and nursery themes, until you spotted a rack of maternity clothes.

"Do you think we have time to look?" you pointed at the maternity clothes, tugging on Tee's elbow. He glanced at his watch, then back at your hopeful expression.

"Sure, baby. We got some time," he said, steering the cart towards the rack.

Your eyes lit up as you scanned the colorful clothes, your fingertips gliding over the soft fabrics. You'd been feeling particularly bloated and uncomfortable in your regular wardrobe lately, and the idea of something made just for your growing belly was heaven-sent. Tee hovered, occasionally holding up shirts that he thought you might like, his cheeks dimpling when you'd smile or hum your approval of his choices.

You set off toward the fitting room just a few steps away with a kiss to his cheek and a slight bounce in your step. Inside the small space, you began to strip off your clothes, tossing them into a pile on the floor. The cool air from the AC brushed against your skin and you took a deep breath, feeling slightly happier than you had in days. The first shirt you picked up was a soft cream-colored dress. It was perfectly in line with any other dress you'd pick up prior to pregnancy, except it had a little more stretch in the fabric.

"I like this one," you called out to Tee, stepping out of the dressing room to show off the dress that hugged your bump perfectly. Tee's eyes lit up, and you felt a flush of pride at his approving nod. "What do you think?"

"You look beautiful, baby," Tee said, his voice full with admiration. "They got another one in black, do you want me to grab it, put it in the cart?"

You nodded and returned to the fitting room. The next few minutes were spent trying on clothes, Tee's voice occasionally piercing through the flimsy door, offering his opinions and encouragement. The final piece of clothing was a pair of light wash blue jeans. They had been Tee's pick, and you had been skeptical at first. But seeing the way he raved about the material and the fit, you decided to give them a shot.

They pulled on easily enough. With your bump at the forefront of your mind, you were surprised by how good you felt in them. The stretch was perfect, and they didn't dig into your skin anywhere uncomfortable. The trouble you anticipated came with the buttons.

Though they buttoned—just barely—you felt a twinge of anxiety as you looked in the mirror. Your reflection stared back at you, the jeans cinched tightly around your waist, and you couldn't help but feel like you were wearing a costume, not something you'd be able to wear comfortably outside the house. You stepped out of the fitting room hesitantly.

"What do you think?" Tee's eyes searched yours for approval.

You looked down at the jeans. "They're okay," you said, your voice soft. You didn't meet his eye.

Tee frowned, immediately noticing your lack of enthusiasm. "You sure?"

Your hand moved to your stomach, rubbing it gently. "They're just... tight." You took a deep, shaky breath. Upon exhale, you felt a sudden rush of emotion, tears burning the edges of your eyes. "The button is... it's tight."

"You don't have to get those if you don't want to, baby," he said softly. "We can try something else." He reached for your wrist, turning you to face him fully. "Baby, don't cry."

You felt the first tear roll down your cheek. "I'm not," you started, your voice cracking. Then you broke into sobs, your shoulders shaking. Tee pulled you into a warm embrace, "Baby..." he said softly, rubbing your back.

You sobbed into his chest, fully fisting his black t-shirt. It was one of those moments where you didn't know why you were crying, but you couldn't seem to stop. The fabric of his shirt grew damp under your cheeks. Tee held you, not saying a word, just letting you feel. His strong arms wrapped around you, holding you tight, offering silent support.

The minutes ticked by, your cries slowly subsiding into sniffles. You pulled away, wiping at your eyes. "I'm sorry," you mumbled, your face hot with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to cry."

"Don't be sorry, baby," Tee said, holding your face with both his hands. "It's okay to be overwhelmed." He leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, and whispered, "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, even when you're crying."

"Even with my snotty nose and swollen eyes?" you sniffed, managing a small laugh. Tee grinned, kissing the tip of your nose.

"Especially with your snotty nose and swollen eyes." He kissed you softly. "What can I do to help?"

You took a shaky breath, looking down at the jeans on your body. "Can we go home?" you asked, your voice small. Tee nodded immediately.

"Take the jeans off, we'll go to the self-checkout," Tee murmured, his eyes filled with concern as he guided you back into the fitting room. You stepped out of the jeans, your body feeling slightly lighter without the constriction.

"You okay?" he checked again through the door.

"I'm okay, baby," you assured him, your voice more stable now.

Tee nodded and took the jeans from you, placing them back on the hanger with gentle care. When you stepped out of the fitting room, he reached for your hand, his grip firm but comforting. You made your way through the store, ignoring the glances of passersby who could likely see how frazzled you seemed to be still. At the self-checkout, you felt a fresh wave of embarrassment. Your eyes were red, your nose a mess, and your makeup was likely smudged. You avoided looking at the security camera, not wanting to be remembered as the overly emotional, crying pregnant lady.

"Can we order in?" you asked as you watched Tee load your bags into the trunk of the car. "I know I cooked last night but... I want something else."

"Pizza?" Tee suggested as he continued loading, his voice gentle, trying to read your mood.

"Please," you said, the redness in your eyes beginning to clear.

"Yes, ma'am," Tee nodded, closing the trunk and walking around to your side of the car. He opened the door, helping you up into the passenger seat and watching you fasten your seatbelt. He leaned in, placing a tender kiss on your forehead before lifting your chin in his hand and kissing you softly on the mouth. "Order it in, we'll pick it up on the way home, then Imma get yo fine ass in bed."

"Tee," you scolded lightly, your voice still heavy. But you couldn't deny the warmth that spread through you at his show of affection. You gave in, laughing fully when you saw him pull his bottom lip between his teeth.

"I'm deadass," he almost growled, his eyes sweeping over you. "I was tryna keep it together in them people's store. But when you came out in that dress..." he trailed off, shaking his head, a hum resonating from the back of his throat. "I just wanna get you home, lay you down, and thank the good Lord above for giving me you and this baby." His palms pressed against each other, his head tilted back as he playfully prayed to the heavens.

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound bubbling from your chest and shaking your body. It was a good laugh, one that had been missing from you for days. You watched him, his eyes closed, his smile wide. "You play too much," you said, reaching for his hands and lacing your fingers with his.

"I love you bad. I'll die 'bout my baby," Tee said, his eyes squeezing shut as if the mere thought of your discomfort was too much to handle. His words were punctuated with a kiss to the back of your hand.

You felt a warmth spread through you, and you couldn't help but return his smile. "I know, baby," you whispered. "And I love you for it. Thank you for making me feel better."

"Always," Tee said, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. "Gimme a kiss." He puckered his lips in a playful pout.

You leaned over to kiss him, the smell of his cologne flooding your senses. His smile grew against your mouth before pulling away. "One more," he murmured, pecking you again. You felt his hands move to your stomach, pressing gently. "And one for the little man too." He leaned over your belly, lifting your shirt slightly, and kissed it with a gentle peck.

You watched him, feeling a swell of love so strong it was almost painful. You cradled the side of his face with one hand, your thumb stroking his cheekbone. "Thank you," you repeated, leaning in for another kiss once he stood up again.

You woke slowly, the slow roll of your stomach growling dragging you from your sleep. You groaned and rolled over, feeling the weight of your pregnant belly pressing against the mattress. Tee's arm was draped over you, his gentle snores a comforting white noise. Carefully, you extracted yourself from the warm cocoon of his embrace and shuffled into the kitchen.

You opened the freezer and stared into the abyss of Tupperware containers and frozen desserts, but it was the half gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream that caught your eye. The craving hit you sharp, intense, and unrelenting.

You placed the container of ice cream on the counter and grabbed a spoon from the drawer. The first bite melted in your mouth, the minty coolness mixing with the sweetness of the chocolate chips. It was heavenly. A few bites later, you weren't satisfied. You needed something else.

Tee stirred in his sleep, a sudden absence of weight and warmth beside him. He cracked an eye open, looking around the darkened room, then glanced at the clock. 3-something AM. He sighed, his hands running down his face as he grasped the situation. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, planting his bare feet on the cold floor. He grabbed the hoodie hanging over the chair and shrugged into it, following the sound of the kitchen cabinets opening and closing.

Your silhouette was framed by the refrigerator light, your hand hovering over the shelves. You looked up, catching his reflection in the glass. "Oh, baby," you said softly. "Was I being too loud?"

"Nah, you good," he yawned, crossing the kitchen to you. "Ice cream?" He nodded to the carton in your hand.

"Craving," you mumbled around another spoonful. "Want some?"

Tee chuckled, moving to stand behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist. He kissed your neck, his breath warm against your skin. "You know I do," he said, reaching around you to grab a spoon. He took a bite, the minty taste mixing with the warmth of his mouth.

"Can you scoop some out for me, please?" you began, turning toward the pantry to rustle through the snacks. Tee obliged, grabbing a clean bowl from the drying rack and filling it with a generous serving of mint chocolate chip.

"What else you need, baby?" Tee asked.

"Cereal," you answered simply, revealing a box of sugary cereal with themed, multicolored marshmallows. Tee raised an eyebrow but said nothing, turning toward the fridge to retrieve the milk only to be stopped by your hand on his wrist. "No milk."

He paused, looking down at you with a furrowed brow. "You don't want milk with your cereal?"

"Nope," you said, shaking the box of cereal over your bowl of ice cream. "But I need you to get me some chocolate syrup." You paused then visually lit up, "Oh! And some salt."

Tee stared at you, blinking sleep from his eyes. "Salt?"

You nodded, your mouth watering at the thought. "Yeah, I want to mix it all together."

Tee chuckled, shaking his head. "A'ight," he sighed, his hand sliding down to give you a gentle pat on the behind as he made his way to the pantry. He grabbed the chocolate syrup from the shelf and held it up in question. "This what you want?"

You nodded, a grin spreading across your face. "Yes, please," you said, your voice full of childlike excitement. "Drown that bitch in chocolate," you almost vibrated with anticipation. Tee couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head.

"You're something else," he said, his voice warm as he began to pour the chocolate, looking to you every few seconds to make sure he wasn't going overboard. You just hummed in response, your eyes glued to the melting ice cream. The syrup cascaded over the top, pooling and mixing with the ice cream.

"Keep going," you urged, your eyes alight with a spark of excitement. Tee couldn't help but smile at your enthusiasm, pouring more syrup until the ice cream looked like a chocolate moat around the floating marshmallows. "Okay, that's good. Now, the salt."

He grabbed the salt shaker and handed it to you, watching as you sprinkled a fine layer over the top of the concoction. He took a step back, eyeing the mix skeptically. You took a bite, your eyes fluttering closed, moaning softly. "Perfect," you murmured, licking the salt and chocolate off the spoon.

"Mind you," Tee started, watching warily as you took another bite. "I've never made you moan like that before." He laughed out a soft, "Goddamn," when you moaned again.

"So good," you sighed, your eyes still closed. The sweet and salty combination was surprisingly delightful, the crunch of the cereal and the creaminess of the ice cream playing perfectly together. You opened your eyes to see Tee watching you with a mix of amusement and concern. "What?" you tried to stop yourself from smiling.

"It can't be that good," Tee said, his skepticism clear in his tone.

"You want a taste?" you offered, holding out the spoon to him.

"Hell no," Tee snorted, holding up a hand. "I'm good with my ice cream plain." He took a spoonful of mint chocolate chip, savoring the simplicity of it.

You rolled your eyes, mixing the salt and chocolate syrup into your cereal with a spoon. "Your loss," you mumbled with a mouthful. Tee leaned against the counter, watching you with a fond smile. "What are you looking at?" you muttered.

"Just my beautiful, gorgeous, radiant, resilient,—" Tee began, but you cut him off with a laugh and a playful nudge to his side.

"Draggin' it," you said, your voice muffled by the spoonful of chocolate and salt. You couldn't help to smile at his teasing. "But thank you."

Tee took another bite of his ice cream, watching you with a mix of amusement and love. "I was thinking of names the other day."

You paused mid-bite, your eyes widening. "You were?"

Tee nodded. "Yeah, I was thinking something short, something that'll roll off the tongue like yours."

"What did you come up with?" you asked, your curiosity piqued. Your spoon hovered in the air, halfway to your mouth.

"How 'bout Shai?" Tee suggested, watching your reaction closely.

"Like the basketball player?" you deadpanned, your spoon now resting in the bowl. Your head tilted incredulously, your eyes squinting playfully. "Tamaurice."

"I mean..." Tee's voice trailed off. "I like the name. It means 'gift'." He leaned against the counter, watching your face for a reaction. "I think it fits, don't you?"

"That's... really sweet, baby." Your voice softened, the warmth in your tone genuine. You took another bite of your salty-sweet concoction, contemplating the name. "Shai. Shai Higgins." You tasted the name with a nod. "I can work with that."

Tee's smile grew. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you said, setting the bowl down. "It's got a nice ring to it." You leaned into him, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. "Our gift."

Tee kissed the top of your head, his arms wrapping around you. "Exactly."

[dollgirlcage]

thinking about hypno and dumbification and how hot it is to be like, turned into the hypersexualized parody version of your old self. (not saying i dont Heavily appreciate the originals in these cases)

Weightlifting sports playing gal into -> gym bunny in extra tight yoga pants and sports bra. Not even exercising enough to sweat or mess up her full face of makeup basically just at the gym to get strong hot women to pick her up.

Car enthusiast mechanic gal into -> that kind of michael bay megan fox type. Skimpy and tight leather, the babe sexily laying on the car hood. She might know a lil about cars, but more importantly she loves sweaty gals who are so deticated to something so complicated. and getting railed in a hotrod is a nice bonus.

Hardcore fps ranked stuff, dark souls gamer gal into -> pornified wearing skimpy tops, btight pink dyed hair. streaming and ahowing off to chat as she plays horror games to get a fun reaction. high intensity games that she used to be good at. and otherwise pretty simple games her hypno clouded mind can handle.

all the better if they know theyre hypnotized, they still are who they were originally, but it feels so good to obey the conditioning and resisting is sooooo not worth it.

[hencheri]

18+ mdni.

pairing: jeno x fem!reader (ft. jaemin)

warnings: noncon, dacryphilia.

.

the high ceiling of the women’s changing room allows the slapping sounds of jeno’s hips meeting your ass to resonate, making him more aware of the dead silence around him except for the few cries that occasionally leave your lips. it’s not the ideal place where he would’ve liked to do this, but he didn’t really have any other choices anyway.

he thinks that the soft feeling of your skin under his palms, your ponytail brushing his face, the sweet scent of citrus entering his nostrils, the hot sight of your leggings rolled up under your bum… are enough to make him forget the usual sweaty smell of the gym. make him forget what he’s really doing.

he’s always seen you in your sports wear, tight black leggings hugging your ass and pink bra cupping your breasts. he only imagined what was under, what type of panties you’d wear, but now having your bare skin at the mercy of his hands is making his cock really stiff. 

he grabs your hair in his fist to turn your head to the side, looking at your face, just as glowy as it is when you leave your yoga class. you accidentally meet jeno’s gaze and seeing your big teary eyes on him has his cock jumping inside of you and he’s sure you felt that because you clench around right after. 

to his dismay, you scrunch your eyes shut, letting out a weak sob. he’d like you to look at him, too, he knows you’re attracted to him, you have to be. everyone is. the smiles you flashed him from across the gym before couldn’t be just out of courtesy. 

his stare bore into the side of your face, and all feels too claustrophobic for you, his mouth so close to you his deep breath hits your cheek. his pace is brutal and you keep squeaking whenever he goes too deep too fast. 

your sad, pitiful sounds only fulfil his desires even more. if you weren’t attracted to him, your cunt wouldn’t be dripping around jeno’s entire cock. your inner thighs wouldn’t be covered in your slick. 

a couple more thrusts and jeno would have reached his orgasm, but the sounds of the door opening and someone’s steps on the ground, stop him. the complete silence inside the gym could have fooled him that nobody else was still here, but the euphoric state he was in seconds ago probably also made him forget about jaemin’s presence. 

“i didn’t think you’d really be there.” just as jeno’s backing away from you, he hears his friend’s laugh. he feels his face getting warmer, quickly tucking himself back into his sweats. “sorry to interrupt,” jaemin grins, just like he would knowing his friend got laid. 

he gets a better look at you, also covering yourself back up, noticing your red eyes and wet eyelashes. your sniffing enlightens jaemin on what jeno was actually doing. 

he scoffs, looking you up and down and then finally at jeno. “didn’t know that was your kind…”

“i didn’t-”

“unless you fuck like a god, which i doubt, you aren’t making girls cry like that,” jaemin sarcastically points out, stepping closer to you who haven’t moved a muscle since you pulled your leggings back up. “poor little thing…”

jeno isn’t stupid enough to believe jaemin is really showing any pity, looking at his grin and the evil glint in his eyes, he’s enjoying it. 

“don’t make me stop you there,” he smiles, “but i won’t lie that i’m curious to know what that mouth can do.”

[celeryb1tch]

innocent!reader x experienced!pervert!abby is rotting my brain tonight!!!

18+!! this is lesbian smut!

you sit at a table in the mess hall, abby’s arm wrapped around your shoulders and her friends all enjoying their dinner. casual conversation is thrown around the table, until manny’s new fling is brought up.

“-and i mean, SOAKED the sheets. i couldn’t believe my eyes,” he recounts proudly.

everyone is laughing along or rolling their eyes, but abby notices your hesitance. she leans down toward you with a concerned look. “something wrong?”

you shake your head lightly, looking up at her. “jus’ don’t get it,” you reply.

abby feels her stomach twist. she had known there wasn’t great sex ed on the WLF base, but she and her friends had grown up around doctors like her dad and she realizes she hadn’t know the full extent of just how ignorant you were. and admittedly, it made her excited.

“she squirted when she came,” she tries to explain gently. but you still look utterly confused, even as she goes on.

“…come? and she didn’t pee?” you seem so utterly lost. abby wonders if it makes her a bad person to expose you to these ideas, but you’re both already adults. still, that knot is twisting inside her deriving a sick pleasure from all of this. you had always looked up to abby, and she wondered how wrong it would be to corrupt that relationship with talk of sex- or even a demonstration?

that night, you’re laying in bed thinking about what abby said earlier. with all the training and violence you’d grown up around, you hardly had time to pay attention to the ache between your legs, or how it would usually occur when abby was around. but as you recount that conversation in your mind, it appears once more. you think of her arm wrapping around you, pressing you into her hard front. how she was still warm and sweaty from the gym, and how her flyaways stuck to the sides of her forehead because of that. something inside of you is saying you should be embarrassed, and you don’t know exactly why- but a louder, much louder, part is telling you to confide in your best friend. she would never judge you, right?

you shuffle down a few hallways in your fluffy socks until you reach one of the bigger accommodations: abby’s room. and with a bit of hesitance in your knock, you step back as the door opens immediately.

abby is clearly groggy, and must have also been getting ready for bed. she’s wearing nothing but boxer shorts and the usual black sports bra she has on during patrols and workouts. her hair is tied in her signature braid, with more wispy pieces that have come out throughout the day. “hey, you. everything okay?”

you nod and push past abby inside as was usual. she joins you on her bed, your bare thighs touching as you both sit. her eyes are on you and you can feel it again- that heat. you pull away slightly, squeezing your legs together as it’s the only thing you know eases the feeling.

abby pretends not to notice, just like she does any other time you blatantly stare at her muscles or blush when she touches your waist. she doesn’t want to scare you off, especially when she thinks she can tell what you’re going to ask about.

“you remember earlier at dinner?” you say, biting your lip slightly as unease turns in your tummy. and abby just nods, still looking right at you. “how manny said he made a girl, uh…”

“squirt?” abby offers. she says it so nonchalantly, like it’s nothing. like she’s never in a million years thought about fucking you until you do. like she wasn’t hoping this would happen every second after dinner.

“yeah, well, i realized there’s probably a lot of sex stuff i don’t know, and since you… y’know…”

poor baby, she thinks. how will she ever work up the courage. and abby thinks of all the times she’s teased you about all the women she’s fucked. called you jealous that you had to split quality time with her one night stands. seen you pout about her missing games night because someone asked her on a date in front of you. surely you were going to ask for her expertise- for her to help you out, to show you?

“since your dad was a doctor.”

oh. that was it? you wanted a little anatomy lesson. then what was all the embarrassment for? were you that ashamed of asking for a little bit of guidance?

abby gives you a soft smile and an assurance that she can help. and your body floods with relief. this is normal. you can tell her what you’re feeling and she won’t act weird. she can help you.

you stand up and strip off your pyjama bottoms and big shirt you had likely stolen from abby so long ago you don’t remember whose it was in the first place. and she just watches, small smile still on her face as she looks you over.

“okay, so right here? boobs, obviously.” she points to your chest, and you roll your eyes.

“i know that, stupid. show me the more advanced stuff.”

“you’ll have to take your underwear off then.” so you do.

abby instinctively reaches for it, stroking her fingers between your puffy, wet lips. her eyes are shining with admiration and her cheeks are hot.

you pull away slightly at the bolt of pleasure that spikes through you at her touch. “is it… supposed to look like this? i think there’s something wrong.”

she shakes her head fervently, eyes never leaving your pussy. “you’re just wet, that’s all. did something turn you on?” and at your confusion at the term- “get you excited? when girls see something attractive, they get wet.”

oh no. you can feel dread flooding your senses as you try to scramble for an explanation. that it just happens sometimes. that’s normal, right?

after a pause, and a look at your face, abby knows exactly what happened. “oh. you got wet from me, huh?”

you want to run away and disappear. you swallow a sob, but strangely, you feel that pulsing sensation again. all of this attention from abby isn’t working in your favour.

but she isn’t grimacing in disgust, or even asking you to leave. in fact, abby has a shit-eating grin on her face as she watches you cower in front of her.

“you’re not… mad?” you ask sheepishly.

abby reaches out to you, pulling you onto her lap. “no, baby, of course not. it’s cute.”

relief washes over you, but before you can really relax you feel abby’s hand once again on your folds.

“so wet for me, baby. how long has this been happening?”

a finger skims against a particularly sensitive spot, and you choke on your words, succumbing to the blissful feeling. “s-so long, abs. like forever.”

“poor girl. so pent up, so needy. and too embarrassed to tell me.”

“yeah…” you whine. you’re clinging to abby like a lifeline, overwhelmed by the building tension. it’s unlike anything you’ve experienced before. so intense, so all-consuming.

abby’s fingers are expertly caressing your pussy, steadily adding more pressure so as not to overstimulate you. “this is the clit,” she murmurs, and you feel that electric spark again as she glides over one specific spot at the top.

“it’s too much,” you cry out, wriggling under her grasp.

“that means you’re cumming soon,” she explains with a chuckle. “feels so good, trust me. just ride it out.”

and you trust abby with every ounce of your being, so you try to relax your muscles as much as possible while you feel that climbing feeling come to a boil. and she was so right. you’re huffing tiny sobs into her chest as you come down, her strokes easing as you’re finally able to catch your breath again.

abby cradles you into her, clean hand running through your hair. you can feel the puddle between your thighs dripping down her own and onto the sheets, and you’re so exhausted.

“that was so hot, baby. did such a good job for me.”

“abs, that was… wow.”

she’s smiling down at you, admiring your sweat- wicked face. “bet you wish you’d asked me sooner, huh?”

[growth-opportunities]

When they (her doctor, her coach, her friends) told Renee that she was getting too busty to be on the track team, she took that not as a warning but as a challenge. Sure, maybe other women whose breasts had spontaneously doubled in size in a matter of weeks with no signs of slowing or stopping might have backed down. Not Renee. Not even when she had to triple up on sports bras to keep her gigantic, growing tits from bouncing too much. The tightness constricting her breathing just made it more thrilling, another obstacle to triumphantly overcome. She continued to bounce her way around the race track as fast as she could, more focused on the way the increased weight added lean muscle to her legs than filled out her jacket.

Really, the only difficulty that her swelling breasts gave Renee was in the shower afterwards. As much as she tried not to show it, lugging around that kind of weight was hard work and it left her sweaty and exhausted. Her growth also meant that there was so much more of herself to clean, spending more and more time soaping up her breasts, hefting them upward to clean where they squished against her torso. Minutes ticked by until she was spending almost an hour running her hands along the supple, soft, sensitive skin of her breasts. A voice in her mind told her that she should check to see if there was anyone in the locker room, but by then she was too horny to care. She struggled to reach her thick nipple, sensitive and aching from rubbing against the inside of her sports bras throughout her entire run. As she took hold of it, pinching and tugging and twisting, her knees nearly gave out underneath her. She might be fighting valiantly to stop her breasts from taking over her life, but she couldn't fight their growing grip on her sexuality. What was between her legs became increasingly ignored, focusing instead on her boobs, her breasts, her tits. One hand kept focused on her nipple while the other slide underneath, pushing upward into her cleavage. She gasped, moaning louder than the patter of water against her body. Fucking her tits with her arm had become her go-to way to get herself off and it didn't take long before she screamed in exquisite agony, slumping against the cool tiles of the shower walls. As her head swam with lingering arousal, she looked down at her cleavage and bit her lip, wondering how it would feel to run with a dildo hidden between her breasts.

[spirit-lanterns]

I've been keeping this inside for long but....women back muscles are the most hot shit ever.....I just know kafka's back is muscular af

MMMM Kafka’s back muscles are absolutely ripped.

It’s all hidden underneath her coat when she’s in battle, but when she’s shirtless ohmygod. Every time she moves, those back muscles flex and crease so easily, showing off her scars from battle and the attentive care she’s put into her workout routine 🥵

OML. Kafka doing pull ups while in nothing but a sports bra. She can do so many in front of you and she adores the way you shamelessly stare at how defined she is…

HOYOVERSE IS A COWARD. GIVE ME SWEATY MUSCULAR WOMEN >:(

[daphwritesworld]

Alexia and Alessia, yes fucking please 🥵

Alessia being all shy and not having been with a girl before (going with this since we know next to nothing about her love life lol) and thinking she's as straight as a ruler until England play Spain and she's looking at Alexia like she's just discovered a new religion and realising she's as straight as one of those bendy rulers

Alexia's head tilting because England's star girl is looking like she's ready to beg right there and then and she's not bejnf subtle about it. Half of the England girls are glancing at Alessia like 'yeah...she ain't straight guys, she's looking like she wants to bite into Putellas' bicep.'

Leah, Keira and Lucy specifically being encouraging for this. They know Alexia a bit more than others because two of them played with her and Leah is captain so her and Alexia are practically unspoken bros in my head 😂

Like nahhh let her loose, go on Less. Get your little gay life started, she'll rock your world 😂

-🧠

OMG YASSSS !!

I love the whole "sees one sexy women than realizes their gay" trope. like yeah that was me LMAOO. stuck in denial until I saw a sexy woman playing volleyball on the living room tv at 10….aaaannnd now I write gay porn so 🤷🏽‍♀️ anyways—

and no the way Leah, Lucy, and Keira would be pushing Less over towards after the match. She's blushing like crazy, cheeks redder than a ripe tomato, and trying to push back against the forced steps from her 3 teammates….until she bumps straight into someone's back. She freezes at first— doesn't even notice the fellow England players fleeing the scene as their hands retreat from her body. Oh no, she's in a trance. Because she feels the electricity crackling beneath her skin, knows exactly who it is before she even finishes turning her head.

"I'm so s-sorry," Alessia stutters over her words as their eyes finally meet. A higher pitch cracking out of her mouth from the sight of Alexia up close. Her words trail off, lost in the sea of the Spaniards features. Captivated doesn't even begin to describe it. Alessia's never felt this before. This all consuming wave crashing over her, like she's been floating out at sea until Alexia walked in, and then the tides started pulling her down. And now? Oh, she's surely drowning. But that's okay, because Alexia is there to pull her back up.

There's a warmth behind her eyes, a comforting blanket that wraps around anyone lucky enough to fall under her gaze. She smiles at the loss of words, taking a few seconds to study the face of the woman in front of her. Her eyes are striking, just like her football skills. They both hit you fast when you notice them— like running full speed and then falling face first. Which Alexia has done many times in her youth. Always one to chase after what she wants, pushing herself to always come out on top.

"Want to swap jerseys?" The accent flows off her tongue like magic, putting a trance on Alessia.

Her heads nodding before she regains her ability to speak— and breathe, properly again. "Y-Yeah!"

Right as Alexia's about to pull the sweaty kit off her body she sees them— Keira, Lucy, and Leah all peaking over like a group of gossiping school girls. She holds in her giggle at the antics of the women, returning her attention back to the girl and task at hand. When they're both left in their sports bras and shorts there's a moment of pause as their hands brush. For a few seconds all the noise surrounding them disappears, all the eyes, cameras, and people fade into the background. It's just them. It's like fireworks going off, Alessia nervous system on the frits from all the new emotions being rushed into her brain. Oh god and is that her heart beat in her ears?? The Englishwoman doesn't even hear the next words out of the pretty blonde across from her, just sees her lips moving— and oh god did her lips always look that soft? "I-I'm sorry, w-what did you say?" She shakes her head a little, trying to come out go this fog that's seemed to of swallowed her whole.

Alexia can't help but let the laugh fall from her lips, tongue coming out to wet them as she leans closer, a hand coming out to shake Alessia's. "You can call me Ale, all my friends do."

"Oh," Alessia breaths out with a smile, "I didn't know we were friends."

The Spanish woman has a look on her face Alessia can't quite decipher, but she quickly finds out. Cause while they're still clad in minimal clothing, Alexia leans fully in— sweaty bodies colliding as her lips brush against the skin of Alessia's ear, goosebumps arising in her wake.

"I'd like to be more than that, but we can see where the night goes," and she doesn't pull away at first. Oh no. She waits till she feels and hears Alessia's breath gasp, her body tense up as her heart rate picks back up. She smiles against her skin, and that's when she pulls away. Slipping on the Lionesses Jersey as she proudly sports 'RUSSO' on her back.

Alessia doesn't even hesitate when the next words out of Alexia's mouth are, "Do you want to get a drink?"

She's saying yes before Alexia can finish the sentence, an even deeper shade of red left to dust along her nose and ears as the heat travels back up towards her cheeks. They agree on a place and time. And then she's gone, jogging back over towards her team as Alessia stands still in the aftershock.

She stays like that until Leah's there to cone running up and smacking her on the shoulder, "You're still half naked by the way, love bug. Might want to slide that jersey on before we get group pictures."

okay ill stop now, but no seriously love this duo hehe !!!

[fandomfluffandfuck]

A manswear blogger in twitter is talking about seat and bust adjustments in clothing. I can't stop but think about a stucky tailor shop au where Steve goes to get his trousers and jackets adjusted and getting all flustered. I mean Buck doesn't need even be the tailor. He can be a shop sitting friendly neighbour or smtn

spiritually, this ask feels connected to this gorgeous piece of fanart

and while we're here, on the topic, this art too 👀

Oh my god

Oh. my. god.

I can see this so well in my mind, and goddamn, this is such a good idea, too! We've all seen Steve Rogers--and Chris Evans by proxy--and we all fucking know he needs clothes to be custom fitted, so, of course, Bucky would have to step in. It's only fitting.

Every universe, they find each other and take care.

Why wouldn't tailor Bucky make sure Captain America Steve is well-fitted, thus, well taken care of?

I imagine that the whole situation would spring out of the teasing relationship that exists between Natasha and Steve. The first person to ask Steve if he knows how to dress himself is Nat--she asks if he wants some tips to blend in to the background, as she's become so adept to, yet allowing him to choose his own clothes rather than being chosen for him. She cracks a smile when suggesting he stay out of the sizes he used to wear or don't, that's pretty fitting for the modern century, too. Natasha will readily workout with Steve; the contrast in their focus while fighting makes it actually challenging, besides, it's refreshing, too, to have someone look at her and not underestimate her based on her size. It's during those workouts where Natasha suggests, teasing while blowing a sweaty tendril of hair out of her face noisily, multi-tasking as always, that they get matching sports bras. Before he's used to the comments, Steve sputters, but eventually, he laughs them off--he's still working on controlling his blush, though.

He doesn't... it's not, they're not... no.

He doesn't need a bra. It's not like it's uncomfortable. Natasha asks if he's sure it's not uncomfortable once, still grinning like a shark, pleased with their dynamic--her teasing and his batting back once he has his feet underneath himself--because she knows how tight clothes get. Then, Nat tugs at the collar of his clinging shirt, "I don't dress in clothes that tight unless it's for a special occasion."

"Oh, special?" Steve raises an eyebrow at her.

"Yeah," she responds, her mouth twisted, "like when I'm bagging targets."

"Lucky them," he huffs out a laugh.

She's already distracted by the opening their conversation has given her, still sparring, "mmm-hmm."

Commets and jests aside, Steve doesn't stop dressing himself in such tight clothes. Maybe Natasha's clothes or women's clothes generally are built differently, but Steve doesn't find it uncomfortable. Not within himself. Sometimes, he gets stares that drag on too long, sending a weird feeling through his tummy, maybe more than discomfort, but he rationalizes that it's sooner the onlookers recognition of Captain America walking the streets and less barely-restrained-attraction.

Still.

Steve's wordrobe full of tight clothes doesn't change, everything off-the-rack *tries very hard not to make a joke about Steve's rack* until Natasha corners him after another gala, doing her version of begging to just get some clothes that fucking fit.

Basically, she stares him down until he folds like a house of cards. Rolling his eyes but snatching the business card, she's pointing at him like a gun out of her hands and promising he'll make an appointment for himself.

If he doesn't appoint himself, Natasha will, and she'll go with him, and she will list off each and every painful detail in plain clarity to the tailor with Steve there, in the room, standing on that little pedestal under lights and in front of full mirrors, to blush up a storm...

The strain of his shirts across his shoulders, thinning the fabric to near transparency. The screaming of the seams of his underarms, suffering from his biceps. His boob gaps with those little diamonds of pale skin or undershirt showing through that just don't go away, he can't escape them, his chest is just too big. The atrocious extra, wrinkling, loose fabric of his shirts where they bunch up around his ballerina waist, never concealed no matter how desperately he tries to stuff the extra fabric into his jeans, belted tightly. His belts! He can't ever seem to find belts that don't have all this extra length to them, his waist with just the opposite problems to his shoulders, chest, and arms. The line of his lower body always seems to be a little cut off, his pants understandably too short when facing up to those mile long legs. His ass doesn't fit in his too short pants, nor do his thighs! That has to change.

He needs some change.

He looks fucking great, he does, Natasha is not challenged by other people's interest in Steve when matchmaking, she is challenged by Steve's interest in others and she... she would just like to see some confidence in her friend. The easiest, fastest way to feeling like a whole new human, she knows, is fashion.

So...

A tailor.

Steve is going to see a tailor.

One highly recommended and researched by Natasha. Apparently, according to his website (which Steve gets from his card), this tailor normally works with women and women's garments but isn't above making exceptions.

Steve doesn't want to be a bother, but... Nat assures him that he'll be fine. He's curvy enough, more than. This is all out of the goodness of her heart, after all. She just can't stand to see the pain his clothes are in! And if he won't be set up with a nice girl, boy, or whoever for an off-the-books encounter, then she damn will set him up with a professional. Not that kind. Not yet? Who's to say what she'll get Steve into...

Despite how having Natasha with him would help ease his anxieties (and hurt, just mildly hurt, because he would like to retain some of his dignity if possible, thank you very much, Nat, if she were here, he would stick his tongue out at her), Steve makes his appointment and attends it alone.

Alone with this fucking tailor.

This tailor that looks like he might as well have been made by a fucking sculptor. He makes art through fashion but, Jesus Christ, he is also art. When Steve first meets him--led to the back of a warm, pleasantly-cramped storefront by a welcoming, peppy assistent--he is struck dumb by the tailors beauty. He fumbles his words when reaching for a handshake. As it turns out, he doesn't need Natasha here to embarrass himself. Great!

This guy.

His face.

Pale gold skin with bone structure that will actually haunt Steve until he etches it onto paper. Eyes the most entrancing color--blue, grey, nearly silver. Lips pink and soft-looking, shadowed by a beard trimmed down to the prettiest stubble. The bridge of his nose looks like a statue smoothed by one of the ancient masters. And shiny, wavy hair styled into something that's half collected behind his head in a knot and half falling effortlessly over his shoulders. He looks every bit put together, his hair done, his face shimmering with what might be subtle makeup, but if it's not, then he's just the worst kind of perfect human being, his clothes immaculate, fitted ideally, accessorized beautifuly, and--

The way he talks. He's so confident and in his element, but so nice too. Sweet and caring.

The way he looks at Steve, like he's a person, like he's interesting, listening, but also calculating, already planning what he can do for him, how he can flatter him, how, how, how--

That's the fucking question.

How is this guy real?

He wants to hear what Steve has come in for, but based on how he nods along, he doesn't need Steve to say any of it. He already knows. He's that damn good.

After Steve's done, his unsure words stalling out in a stutter, Bucky jumps in immediately, rattling off tailor jargon for what he can do for him. Bust adjustments for the gaps in his buttoned shirts. Underarm adjustments to help his arms fit better in his shirts. Other seam stretching when it can be done to try and fit his arms more, too. Seat adjustments for all his pants from casual jeans to formal slacks. Waist suppression on all his shirts, suit jackets, and maybe even a few of his less formal jackets. Letting out hems on the pants that can be saved. Forming new, custom patterns for all of the above where the existing clothes Steve already has just can't be altered to the extent they're looking for.

And...

After they get to know each other, after Steve comes back again and again, bringing armfuls of clothes with him each time, plus slowly taking more clothes from Bucky's place of work, too, new custom clothes that fit impressively perfectly, Bucky notices something else that should be altered in Steve's wardrobe.

Steve becomes Bucky's most regular client. It seems like they don't go a week, at most, without seeing each other. So, it's natural that Bucky would begin to notice things about Steve. Habits. Bucky is a damn good tailor, and he's learned to pick up on body language to know when a client is having issues that they might not even be aware of. Steve has a habit of--when he thinks no one is looking as he sits waiting for Bucky to be ready for him--of adjusting himself. Sure, whatever, your dick and balls get bunched up in your underwear and pants sometimes. It's normal. It happens. And you gotta do what you gotta do when your dick isn't happy. Normally, Bucky wouldn't think twice about it. But...

Steve does it a lot.

Now, Bucky has a very good spatial memory. A memory that's aided by plenty of opportunities to be close to Steve's body with a fair number of those opportunities being at Steve's feet. Measuring the inseams of his pants, shorts, or what have you, hemming or unhemming his pants, finding the circumference of his muscular thighs, adjusting the fit of the seat of his pants, all very professional. Steve likes to talk, though, so a lot of the time Bucky is down there, and he's looking up at Steve and...

He's just a man.

Just a weak man with the most attractive man he's ever fucking seen in his whole life on his step riser, calling his eyes up, past the crotch of his pants... sometimes he looks. He tries not to. But. He has. He does.

And when he connects how often he catches Steve adjusting himself to how much time he's spent forming a spacial awareness of Steve's body, Bucky knows what adjustment needs to be made to his clothes that they have yet to tackle. Steve, sweet guy, must be too shy to bring it forward. It's perhaps similar to saying, hey, none of my pants fit because my ass is superhuman-ly pert and round and you could bounce quarters off of it, but at the same time, it is much more... intimate... to say, hey, my dick doesn't fit in my pants, either. Could we do something about that, maybe?

Bucky shivers, trying not to think about why and failing miserably... is it too long? Too thick? Both? God, his balls probably don't help, do they? Bucky might be weak at the knees, thinking of his whole package, but especially heavy, heavy balls, fuck, what he wouldn't give to get on his knees and rub his face against them, all that musky vitality, such a big boy, and--

Bucky is so unprofessional.

Jesus Christ.

What is wrong with him?

Steve just needs a gusset! He's done that a million times without fantasizing about his clients' bodies. It's just different now. Why now?! Bucky knows why...

Ughhh.

It's fucking different because Steve is so nice, so shy yet, so witty and sassy when he wants to be, he smells so good, and his hands are delightfully warm when Bucky accidentally missteps and almost falls, but no matter, Steve's lightning fast reflexes will always be there to catch him. It's different because Bucky has a big, fat crush on the one, the only Captain America back from the dead, who's bursting out of all his clothes with his stupid, perfect sculpted body, always obscene no matter what Bucky puts him in, loose or tight clothing. Always genuine, no matter what Bucky throws at him, even if he does get a little embarrassed.

Guh.

Bucky is so fucked.

Steve is so fucked, too, matching Bucky's idioticness. Steve's head is so full of Bucky that he can't think of anything else. Anyone else. He scrounges up every piece of stupid clothing he has to be altered, just as an excuse to be around Bucky. He sweats through his shirts, peering down at Bucky from his place on that little step-stool, riser-thing, whatever fancy name Bucky had for it, and tries not to think about the position out of context. And, worst of all, he has to fight for his life to block out the sense memory of Bucky's hands on his body through his clothes when he's alone and drifting. He can't think about his tailor when he's jerking off, he just can't! That's so bad!

Steve is so fucked.

...if only they could figure out some other way of being fucked. Together.

[sea-lanterns]

Yeah, effortlessly picking up stuff is hot but please consider them struggling a little, their face set in focused frown while their biceps is flexing from the slight struggle. The sweat that runs down their forehead as they set the box down before smirking triumphantly 😩😩😩🤤🙏

OHHHH SWEATY MUSCLY WOMEN *panicked hamster screeching*

EVEN BETTER IS WHEN THEYRE IN WORKOUT CLOTHES TOO. Tank tops, sports bras, gym shorts, yoga pants…anything comfortable yet tight/revealing enough for them to show off their hot biceps or sturdy calves 🥵

Also also also— don’t forget the way they grunt when they pick something up… MY GODDDDD YOUR GENSHIN GF HAS NEVER LOOKED SO FINE PICKING UP BOXES BEFORE. The way she smirks triumphantly after setting down the box in your new house… they’re such a good girlfriend for not letting you pick up the heavy things…

Well, even for the girls who can’t pick up the heavy things, they’re still good girlfriends too because they’re willing to cheer you on while you pick up boxes, or struggle with you as you both try to figure out how to get your refrigerator in the kitchen…

Weaker genshin women I love you too <3

[imeverywoman420]

major criticism of onlyfans and instagram influencers i made while peeing and waiting for the calamine lotion to dry so i can move around

the type of softcore porn everywhere thats like. Girl with the face of sims 3 toddler in a sports bra and leggings. “You guys sweating during a workout is totally natural” closeup of her sweaty ass crack in yoga pants for that sweet onlyfans promo.

like. I wish they would just get french tips and do the full glam porn star makeup and be UP FRONT like “hey handsome heres my onlyfans im selling PORN on my ONLYFANS ;)” instead of “hii im selling fitness content heres my booking info watch me do tiktok dance” and looked like adult women that would be way better. Its like all these girls pretending theyre not escorts when they are wnd we all know it lol. “Fitness influencer” with cities and a plane emoji in bio= literal escort. Why cant they just be strippers or Playboy bunnies (the equivalent lol) why do they have to look like children and pretend theyre not selling sex

its the way they look like weird edited children with bbls and its just NotPorn. Like its obviously porn but its a dead eyed girl in a crop top and leggings standing in a gym holding a weight so its not Really Porn. Like. Wheres the silk and lace and feathers. Its always broad daylight too in those posts. Thats another sickening thing. theres no line of demarcation for what is erotic and the normal day to day…

they take up so much space on social media with their plausible deniability that its not reallyyyy porn its workout routines and tiktok dances. Girl shut the hell up and i want your simps to die. I dont even care about the morality aspect at this point its literally just so annoying that its everywhere. I miss when everything had its place and at least back 10-15 years ago they looked like women and not children lol its so creepy and bizarre on so many levels…

[deshima]

So I just realised something, and I am not really sure if I will manage to articulate very well, but it pisses me off, and I need to rant... so for a bit of context. I am both an enthusiastic dancer and martial artist. I am also pretty flat-chested and I sew my own clothes including bras.. these three facts are important...when I say I make my own bras that includes my sports bras. My current ones are actually based on the pattern of a wireless normal bra which had already very little sideways and downward bounce to which I added an additional panel to the top of the cup to prevent upward bounce and then hiked the neckline to the start of the brastraps. These bras have served me well for almost three years, and I have almost no bounce and never had any spillage or even cleavage showing.... these are damn comfortable bras and they give enough coverage that if it gets hot I don't have any compunctions to take off my shirt, or in the case of martial arts that I don't wear a t-shirt under my gi.

So yesterday I got into a conversation with my black belt opponent, a very respectful dude whose only consideration when faced with a female opponent is mostly that we are little bit less strong, have a different centre of gravity and are a little ( or in my case a lot) more flexible... And we got into a conversation on where to hit women versus men during a friendly exercise.

When you have to hit a man in the torso, it is generally considered smart to do it a little bit high to avoid accidentally hitting him in the balls. Nobody intends to hit there, but you know shit happens during exercises, so aim a bit higher to be sure. In the same vein, when hitting a woman in the torso, you tend to aim a bit low to avoid accidentally hitting her in the boobs. It sounded logical to me because even being somewhat flat-chested, getting hit in the boobs bloody well hurts. But then my opponent said: well yeah there is that, but you also don't want to heave cleavage spilling everywhere... And that puzzled me because my half-selfdrafted sports bra has never spilled anywhere, even when upside down during a fish flop at the dance lesson. But I thought about it a bit more and I looked around and then I realised that almost all the ladies had high necked t-shirts under their gi. The only one who didn't was another petite flatchested lady and one of the beginners who had some serious boobs and who was indeed,despite the fact she was wearing a sports bra, in danger of spilling if she moved wrong... and then I thought back to my last dance class where a lot of ladies had taken off their shirts since it was hot ( we have only four guys in the class and all of them are gay so nobody is afraid of anyone being creepy)... and I realised that all of their bras, no matter how big-breasted or flat-chested they were, showed off some cleavage. That I was, in fact, the only one who had full coverage..... and I realised that even when we are doing sports, you know one of those moments no-one is aiming to look particularly sexy, the industry apparently though it necessary to make bras that show cleavage...even when it actively negates the function of a sports bra, aka keeping your boobs secure under any and all circumstances....

And this pisses me off so much. Because apparently, there is no moment in a woman's life where she can escape society 's need to make her sexy. Not even if she is simply taking care of her health, or getting sweaty tossing guys around and cackling like a villain when it works, or just honestly enjoying the fact you got that tricky combination down.

And that worse, society's need to make her sexy even during these activities is actively impeding her in doing so...

Just bugger off, okay...

[femmefatalevibe]

This is super awkward and embarrassing to ask but do u have any workout tips and recommendations for someone who is not only overweight but has bigger breasts too? It's always super hard for me to workout because any exercise that I try, my breast keep bouncing and moving erratically lol. Bras don't help too. So doing exercise as a fat person is hard and gets me sweaty but then doing it with big breasts is another story. For example, if I'm doing jumping Jack's, it's uncomfortable and hurts because my chest is literally bouncing. Even with no jumping workouts, it's the same. Or when I'm doing planks or smth, my breasts are just literally hanging and it's super off putting. It's a shame becuase I've been trying to improve my health and lose weight but its super hard to do any real, effective exercises. The easy thing that's easy for me is walking but even running is super hard. Any tips?

I'm sorry if this is too long or personal. Thaknkyou!

Hi love! This is not too personal at all – I bet many women with your body type relate to this struggle. Glad that you feel safe enough to be vulnerable with me about this dilemma.

*Huge disclaimer here: I'm a fairly petite person with smaller breasts, so my advice here is from what I've learned about personal styling/health & wellness over the years.*

I would say these are some helpful tips for working out in a larger body/with a bigger bust:

Make sure you have a VERY well-fitting sports bra for your workout sessions. A control top legging or bike short can also be helpful if you feel self-conscious when working out/to keep any rolls out of the way. Brands like Nike/Knix are known for their great options – have heard some women have success with some Target options as well for a more budget-friendly choice.

If possible, try swimming and aquatic exercises – they can lessen pressure on your joints and just make you feel like all over the place with a large chest.

Do more lying-down exercises: leg lifts/lateral leg lifts, leg raises, dead bugs, hip thrusts, bike crunches

Try standing exercises without jumping: squats, lunges, standing twists, squat crunches, dumbbell presses, overhead circles

Strengthen your core for better natural bust support/to lift & firm your breast tissue. Exercises that strengthen your diaphragm (the area right under your bust), upper back, and core to help alleviate some of the pain. Pushups, wall pushups, leg raises, chest presses, and front/side raises with dumbells are known to be potentially effective for reducing breast size/firming the area

Hope this helps xx

[airlocksandaviaries]

Ooh 6, 8, 11, 20, 27 for top gun asks!!

YAY LOTS OF QUESTIONS

6 - If you could be any character for a day, who would you be? I already answered this in my other post but i'm gonna answer it Again. Iceman is gender goals. If I could be him for a day I would be over the moon. Buff enough for me to pick up and hug my friends. Charismatic enough for me to love Mav forever. Masc enough for people to actually see me as a man for once 🥹 that'd be very nice

8 - Favorite plane used in the movies? Idk anything about planes but I have an affinity to the f-14 tomcat that Mav and Rooster stole from that base and busted the hell out of 😂 she was Loyal she was Faithful she was broken and old as hell but she Did Her Job (kept my boyos safe)

11 - Favorite song off the soundtracks? THIS IS EASY. PLAYING WITH THE BOYS. IT HAS LITERALLY EVERYTHING. ITS FUN ITS HAPPY ITS UPBEAT IT'S SO SO SO GAY IT MAKES ME THINK OF THE CUTEST AND HAPPIEST SCENE IN THE MOVIE WHEN ALL THE FLYBOY BESTIES WERE BEING ADORABLE AND MAKING GAY CINEMATIC HISTORY. GO READ THE LYRICS RIGHT NOW IT IS SO GODDAMN HOMOEROTIC AND IM IN LOVE WITH IT KENNY LOGGINS THANK YOU

20 - If you could re-design any helmet or design your own what would it look like? OOH! This is fun. I know Mav's is iconic but I would want to change it only to add more sun/fire motifs and shape language into it. Yknow, to contrast perfectly with Ice's. And about mine... well. I'd probably have to make it ocean themed now wouldn't I. Sea blue waves maybe.

27 - Do you want a third movie? What would the plot be? HELL YEAH I DO. TOP GUN PHOENIX BABEYYY. It's top gun but with lesbians. Phoenix tries to make her way as a pilot and has to learn to lead a mission of her own. Mav is there too but for emotional support. There are so many women. Halo is the main supporting character. She and Phoenix get to have their little end mission hug just like Icemav before them, there is a lesberotic softball scene on the park by the beach where all the pilot women are in their shorts and sports bras while sliding around in the grass all sweaty and- okay sorry ill shut up now

THANKS SO MUCH. PLS SEND ME THESE BESTIES. I LOVE DOING THIS. SORRY THIS ONE TOOK SO LONG.

[thenerdycarat]

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 (coming soon)

Warnings: fighting sequence

2015

“On your feet,” Natasha instructs after Elsie is knocked down. “Don’t quit on me now, kid.”

The other woman scoffs and jumps up, a bead of sweat trickling down her back. “Who said I was?

Ever since Elsie joined the team under Agent Hill, Natasha had been training her in combat almost daily. The Stark Tower in New York had been transformed into the new Avengers Headquarters tower, and there was a whole gym equipped for exercise, training, target practice, and skills building. The two women utilized it so well, the exercise mats they trained on practically had their footprints memorized. Natasha almost never made it easy on her, but being the fast learner she was Elsie adapted quickly.

She got into her stance again, and Natasha high-kicks at her head. Elsie blocks it, Natasha kicks at her again, and she bends backward to dodge and catch Natasha’s punch. Turning into Natasha’s chest, she elbows her in her stomach and flips her over.

Catching her breath, Natasha sits up and smiles proudly. “You’re getting stronger. That’s what we wanna see.”

A proud smile forms on Elsie’s exhausted face as she was seeing all of these training sessions with Nat finally pay off.

“And look at your abs!” Nat points out her toned stomach that shows between her shorts and sports bra.

“Steve has been doing exercises with me,” replies Elsie as she helps her up.

The two then grab their gym bags and shoes before exiting the gym, Nat patting her sweaty face dry with her towel.

“A little birdie told me Steve was taking you to dinner tonight,” she comments as they take the elevator to the Avengers’ apartment floor.

“Would that little birdie be someone named Clint Barton?” Elsie jokes, the elevator ascending.

“Well, he mentioned a conversation he had with Steve about you two, and Steve said he was treating you to a nice place near where he grew up.”

The elevator stops, and the two women step off onto their floor.

“Well, it’s one of those semi-formal,” Elsie explains as they stroll through the hallway toward their rooms.

“Oh, what are you wearing?” Nat asks, her eyes lighting up.

“It’s just a simple black dress, but it hugs me in all the right places.”

“Simple and sexy? Rogers is definitely going to be weak in the knees. Or be tongue-tied.”

Elsie giggles. “Or his ears will turn red as a fire engine.”

“That, too,” Nat agreed with a chuckle.

The two part ways to their rooms, and Elsie makes a beeline for the shower. She wanted to look like the most beautiful diamond Steve had ever seen in his life. He always told her how beautiful she was, even when she was a total zombie in the mornings; but tonight, she wanted to see hearts in his baby blues.

After washing her hair and shaving, she turns off the water and dries off with a towel before slipping on her peach-colored bathrobe. She tosses her sweaty gym clothes into the hamper and then begins to dry her brown-and-red locks. Despite her patience with hair-drying that of a bottle cap, she blow dried it anyway in order for her to style it.

Since S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, Tony had turned Stark Tower into headquarters for the Avengers, and that came with apartment spaces for the team. A deck on the top floor was used for parties and other occasions or just to relax, and it had a beautiful view of New York. Below that was the lab and second deck used for mission meetings. Then, it was Tony and Pepper’s apartment above the kitchen, and then the Avenger complex. Other offices, weaponry, and everything else was on the lower levels.

Steve and Elsie really made their apartment a place they could call home. If she were being honest, she liked it a lot more than the apartment in Washington. More space, a brighter area, and not having to hear sirens blaring almost every night (thanks to a soundproof system Tony designed for sleeping).

The move also meant the hunt for Bucky came to a standstill. Combine that with when the tracer to find him was destroyed by a virtual firewall, they had to stop. Elsie hated seeing Steve so defeated, but they had no choice but to wait until they somehow got a tip from somewhere.

“We’ll find him,” she had encouraged him many times.

As she carefully styled her hair, Elsie couldn't help but wonder what Steve had planned.

Was tonight the night? She had an inkling, but part of her still hoped for the surprise to be just that--a surprise.

By that evening, Steve and Elsie were ready for their date. She was clad in the mini black dress she mentioned to Natasha, and the off-the-shoulder look was sexy but classy. Just what Steve liked. The Captain was in a black suit and tie, but what he didn’t tell his girlfriend was that there was something special for her in his pocket.

In the weeks and months following the situation with S.H.I.E.L.D. and Bucky, Steve had thought long and hard about his relationship with Elsie; and the mission had made him realise that he had found the woman beyond his wildest dreams. While she was strong and courageous she remained a very sweet and kind woman who just has so much love in her heart to give. She was his rock as he was hers, and he decided to take that big step in putting a diamond on her finger. While it was nerve-racking to take just a giant leap, he was ready. After getting Tony’s blessing, Steve found the ring.

He took a deep breath, his hand still in his pocket, feeling the weight of the box. He could feel his pulse in his fingertips, the moment he'd dreamed of since they'd become a couple. He never thought he'd get to this point, yet here he was, about to ask the love of his life the most nerve-wracking but exciting question.

The couple arrives at the restaurant, and a host dressed in a suit welcomes them warmly. The soft clink of silverware and the low hum of chatter filled the air as Steve and Elsie were escorted to their table. The rich scent of garlic and fresh-baked bread wafted through the air, and the candlelight flickered gently on their table, casting soft shadows around the room. A soft and romantic harmony of violins and cellos were the cherry on top.

“This place has had such an upgrade since the last time I was here,” Steve noticed as he took in the luxurious-looking establishment.

“When was that?” Elsie asks.

“1944. Celebration dinner for the 4th of July.”

“And your birthday?”

“No,” he shook his head. “My men did a private party for me earlier that day.”

Elsie smiled. “As I’ve said before, you’re mother raised you well.”

After ordering their food, Steve sits up a little straighter as he feels his ears begin to turn a bright red. He clears his throat.

“Elsie,” Steve's voice dropped to a softer, more serious tone, and for a split second, Elsie thought she heard a slight tremor in his voice.

Her heart fluttered. Was this the moment?

He took a breath. “I love you.”

She smiles and replies, “I love you, too.”

He takes her hand as his other hand reaches into his pocket. “And you’re the woman beyond my wildest dreams.”

“Steve?”

The Captain was already next to her and on his knee as he pulled the box out, his heart beating out of his chest. Elsie’s eyes begin to pool with tears of joy as she knew now what was happening.

“S-Steve?” she softly squeaked. A few of the other restaurant patrons began to notice the exciting event, a few “oohs” and “ahhs” erupting as Steve opened the box that revealed the diamond ring inside.

“Elsie Walker,” he says as a grin appeared on his face, “will you marry me?”

“YES!!” she squealed before bursting into happy tears, the other customers applauding for the now engaged couple.

-

“I knew he was going to propose!” Natasha exclaimed when the couple returned from dinner. “Barton, you owe me ten bucks.”

Clint rolled his eyes and pulled two crumpled Abraham Lincolns from his pocket. "You know, the two of you could've waited one more day. I had a good feeling about Friday."

"Man, you should've seen the look on Cap’s face when he asked me to help plan everything,” Sam grinned from where he was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “Dude was sweating more than me during basic."

Elsie laughed, her cheeks glowing. “It was perfect. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.”

Her hand finds his chiseled cheek, her mind still spinning at the thought of officially becoming Steve’s wife.

Tony strolls in with a Dirty Martini in hand, arching an eyebrow at the crowd. "Well, I'm glad everyone's enjoying the world's cutest military engagement announcement. Mazel tov.” He takes a sip. And blinks. “I’m going to be legally related to Steve Rogers."

"Now, there’s a Christmas card you won’t see often,” Nat chimed in.

“Just remember, Cap,” Tony adds. “Hurt her, and I’ll build something that hurts back.”

“With another robo-suit,” Clint banters.

"In all seriousness," Bruce said gently from the corner. "Congratulations, you two. It’s nice to see things looking up around here."

Elsie was about to reply when-

“I hate to interrupt the wedding bells.” All heads turned as Nick Fury stepped out, wearing his usual long coat, shadowed expression, and only half his usual scowl.

He looked between Steve and Elsie with something bordering on a smirk.

"I’d like to have a word with the bride and groom," he said, nodding at both of them.

The room quieted. Steve and Elsie exchanged a glance, and she felt her heart pick up just a bit. Steve’s posture had already straightened into soldier mode as he and Elsie followed Fury.

He led them into a quiet conference room, and once the door shut behind them, he turned, hands clasped behind his back.

"Walker," he began, voice low and even, "you've proven yourself time and again -both in the field and under pressure. I've seen enough to make a call."

Elsie tilted her head slightly. “What kind?”

“From what you’ve shown in the last year, I don’t believe you’re meant to be an agent.”

Her heart stops for a moment—was she being dismissed? Reassigned? She had never seen Fury smile unless it meant trouble. “Sir, I’m not sure I understand.”

“You will,” Fury adds.

“Is it good or bad?”

Fury’s mouth twitched, the corner of his mouth showing a rare hint of a smile. "Depends on how you feel about becoming an Avenger."

[myo2]

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