#tentacles Tuesday

[fuzzyoctoplushie]

It’s Tentacles Tuesday! (Or Off The Hook)

[fjordline]

Finallyyyy saw TF One 🎉

i’m so glad we were alone in the cinema cus the entire time we were either laughing at megatron antics that were definitely not meant to be funny, or pointing at the screen going “OMG ITS PROWLLL”

[floridaboiler]

[suburbanbonfire]

CAN I MAKE TWO WHOLE PLAYER PORTRAITS IN FIVE HOURS TIME TO FIND OUT

[tragicclownwrites]

"F" is for Family - Day 1

by tragicclownwrites

SpongeBob, Squidward and Gary head to the countryside to spend the week with SpongeBob’s family. Squidward soon finds out it won’t be as small of a crowd as he suspected.

Next➡️

[whowouldwininafite]

[itti-the-mouse]

Tentacle pits got me acting unwise

[namor-the-submariner-dot-net]

Tuesday Terrific Cover

by Tom Reilly

Variant cover for Judgement Day 2

[slaughterednsfw-wav]

I NEED TO BE FUCKED BY TENTACLES AND FUCKING IMPREGNATED

[symbiomancy]

boutique —minotaur

—summary: Your minotaur companion ruined your underwear after your speed date, so he makes good on his promise to replace them.

// AO3 // monster masterlist

—cw: minotaur x reader, smut (p in v sex), creampie, belly bulge, squirting, size difference, mentions of fantasy racism (I tried to stop myself from adding plot obviously I failed ok)

—wc: 2,2k

—a/n: part 2 of this! also I'm switching to shorter smut for a while, I watched the haikyuu movie yesterday and I gotta write sth for my stupid rooster head captain on my main.

You exchanged phone numbers after your little tryst in the bar bathroom.

And you’re content to write it off as a one-off fling until he calls you on Tuesday evening to invite you shopping — because he still has to make up for the pair of panties he ruined (and kept). You cannot contain your grin as you settle on the time and place, and you confirm you’ve received the text with the exact address.

Said address leads you to a fancy boutique. You glance down at your yellow sundress, wipe off the imaginary lint, and ignore the thought of being underdressed to shop in a place like this. You glance at your phone to double-check the address. It’s the correct building.

You nearly jump out of your skin when the front door of the boutique opens with a flourish and your minotaur companion greets you with a wave. Some pedestrians pause and stare, and you duck your head and hurry over to the store door, press past the minotaur’s body to escape into the building.

The interior is nice, fancy even: high, arched ceiling and tall windows, pillar with intricate carvings situated around the store, cream-colored walls with black shelves, black tables displaying merchandise. Sculpted models of bodies are erected onto said tables and shelves, a different monster everywhere you look. One table has a naga statue, a shelf has something with tentacles you can’t make out from the distance, and a third displays a sculpted orc lady. Her tusks are capped with gold.

Other than you, the minotaur, and the display bodies dressed in gorgeous lingerie, the store is void of life.

“Nobody’s here today,” the minotaur says.

“Oh?”

“I take care of the business part of running a business; my sister works with designers to order from. She also arranges models and sculptors for the display models.” He places his hands on his thighs, and runs them up and down once as if he’s nervous. “It’s just us today. I hope that’s okay.”

You nod, and let a small smile curl your lips up. The minotaur motions you along with the sweep of his hand, leading you through the showroom, winding around the displays — they’re gorgeous, obviously not mass-produced — until you arrive at a section with models of familiar build on the tables. Humanoid.

He follows a few steps behind you as you make your way around the tables, stop to pick a garment up to examine it, then carefully place it back. They’re gorgeous: lace-trimmed pieces, bejeweled pieces, crotchless pieces — your face heats up when you pick up a cute pink thong and realize it’s crotchless. The minotaur behind you pointedly looks away.

There’s a plush seat outside the dressing rooms and the minotaur takes a seat, and motions you towards one of the stalls. Though it’s much less like the bathroom stall from your previous encounter and more like a small but spacious room carved into the wall, separated from the store by a curtain.

You stare at the array of lingerie sets on their hangers and reach for the red one, fold your dress, and place it onto the long seat in front of the mirror.

The red… looks good. You twirl in front of the mirror, place your hands on your chest, onto ur thighs, onto ur ass, turn again and again and again. You… look good. It’s comfortable, too; the bra doesn’t dig into your skin and the seams on the panties don’t itch. You reach for the curtain and take a deep breath, then pull it back.

The minotaur looks up from his phone, lets it slide between his thigh and the chair armrest. Heat rushes to your cheeks but it’s way too late to back out, so you give him a slow twirl. He’s silent, staring at you, a closed fist pressing against his mouth. The silence stretches, drags.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You look amazing,” he says then, voice strained. Your entire face explodes in warmth and you nearly trip over your feet as you step back into the dressing room, yanking the curtain between you. “Sorry, I —”

“No, like… I wanted to ask why you approached me at the speed dating event.” You shrug off the red set of lingerie and place it on top of your dress. You slide the white set off its hanger and — oh fuck, the crotch area is just see-through lace.

“You’re gorgeous. I wanted to meet you.”

Your face might melt off at this rate.

“Well, I mean, humans have a… reputation, and attraction to anything non-human is considered sexual deviancy on a fetishistic level — as if anything other than straight vanilla sex isn’t also considered sexual deviancy. High school health classes were miserable enough and they chose to spread the propaganda spiel about how you shouldn’t fuck anything non-human because they’re below us. ‘Humans are the superior race’ or whatever — what a load of crock, how are you smarter than something with three heads and three times the brain?” The white bra is even better, makes your tits pop.

On the other side of the curtain, the minotaur chortles. “The amount of lectures we got about not hooking up with human women…” he huffs. “Sexual deviancy part matches up, though.”

“Oh? Were your reasons more interesting than ours?”

“Well, they liked to say human women specifically would use us for our cocks, then cry about assault and have their males skin and wear us… Men would wage war even if it was consensual because they think we’re below them.” You wince at his words. “History sure isn’t pretty, huh?”

“Yeah.”

You pull the curtain back and step out, do your little twirl for him. He hums appreciatively, motions towards the large mirror next to the dressing room. You step up and angle your body back and forth as he looms behind you, arms crossed over his chest. His biceps bulge through the button-up shirt he’s wearing. His heated breath caresses your bare back.

“Are those two the only ones you picked?”

“No, there’s one more.”

The minotaur nods and steps back to allow you passage into the dressing room.

Inside, you nearly keel over when you realize the last set has crotchless panties. But considering your companion has once already rearranged your guts in objectively worse conditions… You pull the curtain back to stick your head out.

“I’m not coming out in this,” you say and motion him inside with the jerk of your head. He adjusts himself and stands, and oh — you pointedly ignore the bulge in his pants as he slips through the curtain. He doesn’t stray far from you, stands so close you can practically feel the heat rolling off his body. Slowly, you turn to give him the full view of the piece, try and fail to ignore the shape of his cock through his pants, fuck he’s huge, stop when you can look at him head-on in the mirror again.

The minotaur raises a hand, drags his fingertips across your skin, leaves goosebumps in their wake, up your thigh, over the curve of your hip, up your stomach. He pauses at your breast, places his large palm over it, and pinches your nipple between his fingers. You gasp, press back against him. The beast in his pants rests at your lower back.

His other hand finds purchase on your hip, drags over the front of your panties. You slide your legs further apart and his breath hitches when his fingers find your uncovered cunt. They stall on your clit and you try to grind against them, pushing your ass against him even harder.

The minotaur pulls the hand on your clit back and you want to whine as it relocates to your upper back. He pushes you forward. You nearly trip, barely bracing your hands against the plush seat with your dress and discarded items. He undoes his belt buckle with one hand and when he’s pressing against you next, the tip of his cock drags through your folds. You press back, try to grind against him.

“So impatient,” he tuts, pressing against your entrance. You’re almost shaking from excitement — every orgasm you’ve tried to draw out on your own between now and your little bar bathroom rendezvous on Saturday has been okay but not nearly enough to be thoroughly satisfying. Your own fingers are good but there’s something about another participant, one whose actions you cannot control and who could do whatever they want with you has something in your brain short-circuiting. He could use you as his personal fleshlight and you’d thank him just for being full of his cum.

The minotaur slowly pushes in and fuck, you can feel him everywhere. You stifle the moan in your throat as he bottoms into you — fuck, fuck, fuck, he’s so big you swear you can see him in your guts when you look down — and he pauses, exhales slowly. He’s thick, warm, you can feel every ridge, every pulsing vein on his cock pressing against your insides.

He moves, pulls out nearly all the way, and thrusts back in as far as he can. It drives the air from your lungs and with it, a loud gasp. Your face erupts in heat and you look down, away from your reflection in the mirror. He sets a slow pace at first and you push your hips back against him, skin slapping against skin. It echoes in your ears over the roaring blood, lewd and wet the sounds your pussy is making, and you try not to focus on it, yet it permeates through you, bounces around in your skull. He keeps the pace and lets his hands run over your body, petting and groping and tugging. His fingers catch your nipple through the sheer lace of your bra.

You cum right then and there, clench around him with a moan from the back of your throat, arms shaking under your weight. He slows and you frantically shake your head.

“More. More,” you manage between choked breaths, push your ass against his pelvis. He speeds up, hands traveling again, exploring. One rests on your right hip, the other cups the underside of your thigh and raises it, thrusts in and you nearly shout when he hits something so deep in you but it feels so good, so full.

So good and too much. He’s too big, too deep. He picks up the pace, every ridge and curve of his cock dragging against your insides. Your pussy dribbles around him, accommodates for his size even though it feels like he’s about to split you in half but he feels so good, he’s so deep. Every nerve in your body is alight, fingertips buzzing, mind fuzzy. You cannot form a single coherent thought, let alone words, and find yourself babbling nonsense mixed with pleas for more on his huge cock as he pistons in and out of your ruined pussy.

Maybe, maybe, those fuckasses had a point when they claimed human women would line up to be fleshlights for monsters.

Your vision blurs with tears — he’s too much, too much for your sanity, for your sopping cunt, as if he’s rearranging your insides with every thrust to fit himself in and you welcome it, meet his thrusts halfway with erratic hips. His hand moves, your thigh clutched in his palm, dragging your legs even further apart. He’s deep, so deep and his cock touches something and you see white, squirt around his cock as the orgasm hits you. Your body is on fire, heat rolling through your cunt to your torso to your extremities. Your arms are shaking under your weight.

Your fluid splatters over his pants but he doesn’t even react, mutters something under his breath, and picks up to pace to chase his own high in your spasming cunt. His thrusts are brutal, thick fingers digging into your flesh, fuck, you can feel him in the back of your throat. His breathing is loud and labored and even then it’s barely audible over the smacking when your skin meets and the squelch of your pussy as he pistons in and out.

The minotaur grunts, digs his fingers into your flesh so hard you nearly shout, and buries himself deep into your pussy. His cock pulses — fuck, you can feel it pulsing, spasming in your cunt — and cums with a groan. He presses in further, as if he has any room left, cums and cums and cums. There’s so much it seeps out of your pussy, coats your thighs as it traverses the length of your leg as it surrenders to gravity.

Everything aches. Your skin is sticky with sweat and cum, yours and his. Your breathing is erratic, chest heaving to take in oxygen.

He pulls out slowly, stifling a hiss. Pearly cum dribbles out of your pussy, lands in the puddle on the dressing room floor. Your legs give out but he’s there, large, warm, secure hands on your waist to keep you from falling. He picks you up with ease, lowers himself onto the plush seat, and rests you on his lap. You hear his heartbeat thundering under your ear but yours is no better right now.

“Would you…” he begins after a moment, still panting, and pauses to swallow. “Would you like to go out? On a real date, I mean.”

“Even though mingling with humans is the fetishistic kind of sexual deviancy?” You ask. Your minotaur laughs. It’s a pleasant sound, you find.

“Yeah.”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

banners by @/cafekitsune

[mythalism]

why do mythal and solas shapeshift their own elvhen bodies into mythic animal forms while ghilan'nain and elgar'nan rely instead on a bound archdemon. ghilan'nain ill accept because shes basically a mythic creature herself with her tentacles. but why would elgar'nan not shapeshift into a dragon. does he not have the ability? why do mythal and fen'harel have the ability? were archdemons a status symbol of divine power that the evanuris started using after mythal's murder? it must be considering mythal does not have her own? is it a cultural thing where having a pet dragon was seen as more impressive than turning into one and thats why elgar'nan doesnt bother? what about that codex entry in trespasser about the elf being banished for "daring to take the form reserved for the gods"? even if elgar'nan found shapeshifting to be banal or inconvenient or proletariat (which doesnt make sense because again. mythal does it) why wouldn't he employ it as a last resort in the fight against rook and solas? rook and solas literally would have lost against another dragon. he could have literally won if he just shapeshifted. are you telling me he cant? why not? why cant the most powerful of the evanuris take the form of a dragon? why cant he become a dragon when his wife famously becomes a dragon every tuesday night? actually, why doesnt morrigan turn into a dragon to help fight elgar'nan? why does she only flap around as a fucking crow? what are the bounds of shapeshifting both magically and culturally for ancient elves??? why does veilguard think i wont ask these questions?

[dilf-docs]

Drunk In Love

eddie brock x younger!reader

summary: you don't exactly hate your job as bartender. well, sometimes, like when customers who can't take a no show up. your boyfriend decides to take matters into his hands, or better said, tentacles...

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (ofc), a bit of angst, smut, rough sex??, exhibition kink, oral (f. receiving), fingering, jealous!eddie puts on a show, venom's tongue slurping ur clit like a caprisun, reader gets harrased (is this like a norm for my eddie fics??? lmao)

word count: 3,884 words

side note: this lil' baby is based on this request. that being said, my reqs are still open! keep the suggestions up i say 🗣🔥🔥especially those with classic tropes, cause i'm a deep sucker for them jealousy fics fr most when they get possesive lolz this is me placing my input here *smoothly slides card to the front of the table* ENJOY

If you were to ask your 9 year old self what she wanted to be, she'd tell you an actress. Never a bartender, and most certainly, never the girlfriend of an alien symbiote.

Turns out, life has more on storage of what you expected, certainly. Things haven't gone in the way your kid brain had planned, and going back to the bartender thing, it's one of those things that hasn't been the way you wanted it.

And it isn't the job, really. Over the years, you've grown fond of the drinks you know like the palm of your hand and the scene that occurs behind the bar. Besides, it pays the bills, and there's something comforting in witnessing night engulf the sky, just for the sun to rise again as you're back on your apartment. You're an owl, which really is just how Eddie, your boyfriend, likes to call you with affection.

What hasn't changed and still bothers you after all this years is the people.

It's not like you're an introvert, but crowds aren't really your thing, which is quite the contradiction given the job. The problem lies not on your frequent customers or those who come looking for a good time, but on those who don't know how to take "no" as an answer: most recently, this guy, who won't leave no matter how many times you've told and showed him already.

And it's the wost kind: they don't bother for the drinks, rather the person serving them; and he's been at it for hours, not taking the hint from the one-sided conversation he's been having all this time.

"Hey" the customer speaks again, your back facing him. "So, I want something" he makes a little pause, "but it's not on the menu"

You use a little more force than necessary while cleaning the glass you're holding, "tell me what you want and I'll see what I can do"

He chuckles, and when you finally face him, he seems pleased.

"I want you"

"Too bad" you turn around again, "can't help you then".

"Playing hard to get, I see" you'd think after at least two hours being ignored, he would stop, but he only seems to still not get the cue. "It's fine, I like it this way"

You decide not to add anything, focusing on this drinks for table #2, but he keeps adding comments that drip in annoying drops until your glass of patience overflows.

"C'mon, sugar" he nudges playfully, "spare me a glance, would ya'?"

You scoff, resting your arms on the bar. "If I give you a free drink, would you let me do my job?"

Clearly a mistake, as his hands travel to touch your skin, making it prickle like it burns.

"Still don't get it? The only thing I want is you"

Eddie wanted to surprise you. After some time dating you, he thinks he deserves some credit on to how much he truly knows you; you'd argue he knows you even more than you know yourself.

He knows your small quirks, like the small frown in your lips when you feel sad. He also knows by heart your breathy shrugs, the intricacy of your blinking, the flinch you often do because you get easily scared, and also, how much you hate tuesdays, which is why he's here. Whenever he's free, he drops by, trying to make your night shift a little less difficult. You'd never voiced it out, but he sees it in the way your eyes sparkle when you catch him in the crowd, coming your way, or in the efforts he makes to keep you entertained, your lips curving up in a beautiful smile.

"We are going to see y/n!" chirps Venom in his head, and Eddie can't help but feel a little off at his amount of excitement. "Oh, don't be jealous, Eddie. She sees me as a pet! Still, I like her" he says as Eddie gets inside.

The immediate smell of the alcohol stench place hits him, making him nauseous.

"I hate this place!" Venom agrees, "we should all escape!"

"And get y/n in trouble?" He scoffs, speaking over the music. People don't hear him as he walks by, which helps, since it looks like he's speaking to himself. "Sorry, but I won't be the reason she's gonna loose this job"

"Pussy! You're no fun"

Eddie ignores him as he walks towards you. It isn't until he's almost there, that he notices you're not alone.

"Who's that?" Venom asks.

"I have no idea, buddy" he then notices the proximity, his skin immediately on fire. Not like he's a jealous guy, but never say never.

"He's close to her!" Venom shouts. No shit, thinks Eddie. "We should eat him!"

"He isn't touching her" he butts. Yet, pops the grimy thought up. "Besides, is eating people all you ever think about?" he whisper shouts.

"Yes!" Venom doesn't seem not even a bit embarrassed, "especially bad guys. Like that one"

Eddie is reasonable, he thinks. Feelings like jealousy or possesiveness aren't on his book, yet, seeing the man that doesn't leave you alone, something ugly inside of him burns.

"You judge me, but I know you want the same" he's inciting Eddie, who is angrier than ever. But he doesn't cave in, counts to ten, and breathes in and out, even if he has sped up his walking.

I'm rational. I'm rational. I'm rational.

"Liar" Venom whispers. "You want to kill him"

"Not yet" he can't let his feelings get the best of him, "I can't put y/n in danger so you get some brains. If we do a mess like the ones in Mrs. Chen's store, she'll be fired"

He's being the bigger person here. Eddie just wants you to feel proud of who he is (the lethal protector), and not like you're dating a man child. It happened once (Anne being dissapointed in him, which is worse), and he's not willing to let it happen again. So he'll be polite and politely shove him out of your sight.

At least that's what he thinks until the guy touches you.

"The fuck-"

"Now we're talking!" Venom senses the anger radiating from Eddie, and decides to fire him up, "let's get his brains!"

You're so deep in your shit you don't notice when Eddie walks towards you, his perfume invading your nostrils. In a way, it brings a bit of comfort to your situation.

"Excuse me" his gravely voice goes. Fuck, how you love the sound; you can even feel the nerves going down. It's not like you're a helpless damsel in distress, but sometimes, even if you hate it, a man is needed. Eddie is very much needed now.

"Yes?" the man turns around, and he swears he's screaming when he notices the man is still touching you.

"I'd appreciate if you did me a favor, you see, it's very simple" his tone dripping in venom (hehe), "get your hands off her. Now"

It's stupid, really, how your panties twist at the demading tone, waves of possesivenss radiating off him, considering the situation you're in.

"Why? Are you her guard or something?" he challenges.

"Boyfriend" he spats out.

That would've been enough: at least for a normal person. But some have proven to have worms for brains, like him. Because, even when you've expressed your clear discomfort and Eddie is there, the man doesn't seem the slightlest intimidated, not backing off, by not even a centimeter. All this is very stupid really, and it's testing your patience like it never has in almost three decades alive.

"Yeah?" he stoods up to Eddie, and he's even slightly taller. But Eddie and his strong arms don't back off.

"Yeah" he challenges. God, how you hate men.

"Please, don't make a mess" you beg to no one in particular, because Eddie may be a rational man, but today, all in his eyes are a fury you'd never seen before.

"For your own good, I'm giving you a chance to back off" he threats.

"And what are you gonna do?" he bumps against Eddie's smaller yet built frame, "can't do much, can you?"

The music is on, but it's like it's stopped. All the people have started to stare, and you just want earth to swallow you. The initial wave of arousal is starting to wash away, making you wonder if it's all Eddie's macho ways, Venom or both.

"Eddie, don't" you warn, but it's over: the distraction of your voice makes Eddie turn, and the guy's fist slams across his face, all the regret leaving Eddie's face.

"It's on" he says in a distorted voice.

And it's off for you.

Venom takes over Eddie, the black engulfing his body. People around gasp, and a few do recognize the so-called lethal protector of San Francisco.

"I said" now he towers over him, by various centimeters "...back off"

Punches get thrown, and if you thought he'd cower in fear, the guys tries to fight him off. Some people leave amidst the chaos, and others stay to watch it. How can you take control? Not only is he causing a show, but so is Venom, all rational thoughts flying out of the window.

"Eddie!" you plead, "stop it!"

Your voice falls deaf on his ear. Why doesn't he stop? Eddie thinks he should be scared by now, but he's still fighting. Isn't he scary enough? Isn't he strong enough? Why is he still fighting? He can't loose this fight. No, Venom can't loose this fight.

"You'll pay, scum" he growls, "nobody messes with my girl"

Oh, alright. He got you there; that was kinda hot.

When you get back to your senses, the guy is on the floor, his nose bleeding.

"Eddie, that's enough!" but he ignores you, "Venom!" you try again. Nothing, just alien and guy fighting.

"Have you still learned nothing?"

"Wait!" he shouts, terrified. Nothing like the guy from before, who couldn't take a no, "I'll stop!"

"Good" Venom growls threatening. "I hope you've learned your lesson, asshole" now on Eddie's voice.

The guy scurries away, cowering in fear.

"Alright" you clap your hands, "showtime is over"

You've had enough for today. Really, your hate for tuesdays is justified: an asshole who wouldn't leave you alone, and your boyfriend and his alien pet (derogatory; hey, you're mad!) ruining your day by trying to save it.

"Hey" Eddie's soft voice sounds from behind, "are you okay?"

You laugh, bitterly. "Oh, I don't know. Let's see: a guy harrased me and my boyfriend just fucked up my only income"

His face falls, and you feel a bit bad, yet you can't help it: your nerves are on edge, and your boss not only happens to know you but Eddie too, given all his visits. That means, he sees the cameras and goodbye to your ass, no matter how much you tried to stop it.

This job helps you pay college and your bills. You're fucked: these men's mess will drag you along. Your boss is strict, and the bar reputation will go first: it's a bar, not a brawl. You already hear their stern voice, scolding you (worse) for shit you didn't do.

You start walking away, back to your spot behind the bar. You sigh, deeply: maybe it's the last time you'll ever be there.

"Wait, y/n!" Eddie calls back. The music is going strong and the crowd has long gone, but you know there are still eyes on you. All you want is to curl in bed and cry: you're sad, mad, tired and horny. The week's just getting started: it's not fair.

"What?"

He's taken back by your dry tone; you've never been like this with him. He remembers Anne and their break up, his stomach churning in fear. "Have we fucked up?" asks Venom, but Eddie is too afraid to ask.

"I was trying to help" his voice comes out small, helpless. Funny considering who he is: alien-human symbiote and fearless reporter.

"What does help mean to you? Playing superhero?" you spit. "You'll get me in trouble, Eddie. This job is all I have, yet you seemed to care more about putting a show than me"

"It's not like that!" he argues back, "I was trying to protect you!"

"I know!" you shout, some heads turning around. "I know" you repeat, this time lower, "it's just hard to tell when it's about me, and when it was about you" you confess. Eddie feels bad when he sees your teary eyes, "I don't want you to think I'm angry that you helped me: that guy was scary, and I needed help. I'm just... it's a lot, you know? I thank you for saving me, but I can't thank you for letting your ego take the best of you" you let out a shaky breath. "I want you to know that there are consequences, Eddie, and what started as a noble act ended up hurting me too. Almost like you forgot why you did it in the first place. It was about helping me: for me- Not to, I don't know, prove something..."

He understands, knowing his emotions got the best of him.

"I'm sorry" he rests against the bar, "I know I lost control; you're right. I wanted to help you, talking my way out, like I always do. But then he touched you, and I-, I froze. I hated seeing him touching you, and some jealousy got me there too..." he's ashamed to confess but does anyway, "I don't know... I kinda did also feel a bit... bruised" you're confused, an eyebrow quirking. "Alright, fine. You want me to say it? I will! I felt dumb, you know? That a douchebag like that didn't feel intimidated by me: not first, not second. I didn't know if it was me, that I lost my... well, abilities? My charm? I don't know how to explain it, but that guy was getting on my nerves. It's like-"

"Like he's stupid, Eddie. He's a hard headed idiot who kept fighting an alien symbiote for no reason: despite the disadvantage, despite people watching him loose" you reason, "you can't find logic on something without it. I've already made my peace with it"

"Maybe he was drunk" he ponder, "or high..."

"Or just dumb" you breathe. "You know? Let's stop. I want to enjoy my last day here, definitely not talking about the guy who was harrasing me minutes ago, and also, is the reason I'll loose this job"

"Alright, I'll shut up" Eddie gives up, then "I'm sorry, by the way"

You give up too, "it's okay"

"She won't leave us for this?" Venom asks. Eddie tells you and you laugh. "No, but it's your first strike"

There's some silence, the quiet sipping and chatting of the people sitting close to you, the music now a background white noise for the chaos of your mind and feelings.

"I'm still mad, you know" you drop. He looks up at you, his brown eyes colored in a dark shadow of something dangerous.

"I can make it up to you"

You know that voice. Is he thinking...?

"No" you say hastily.

"The worst already happened..." he starts, voice dropping low.

"We live in a world where superheroes and powers exist. There is always, something worst" you reason.

"Not today, baby" he gets close to your ear, his hot breathe tickling your lobe. "What do you say?"

"Eddie" you warn, but the urge to give in is so bad. It's been a while since the last time you and Eddie were intimate: lack of time, exhaustion and other factors playing a part in cock blocking you both.

"Eddie what?" he mocks, "tell me you don't want it, and I'll stop"

What if you leave the bar unattended? What if you succumb? What if one of the stalls has two people inside, even if forbidden?

"I knew you wanted it" he gasps against your skin. His soft lips kiss along your jaw, his hair brushing your face. His smell always makes you intoxicated, and in the reduced space, the dizziness is excruciating. His hand tightens around your waist, and he looks you deep into your eyes when he says:

"I know I fucked up, baby. So let me help: you won't do anything, just me"

He slams your body against the wall of the stall, which is unhygienic and against the bar norms, but really, why do you care?

"Just wanna taste you, baby" he kisses you again, full of your flavor on his lips. Your gloss coats them in a pink sticky layer, "missed you so much"

It’s shameful for him to admit how easy he seems to fall at your feet: how much he is willing to beg for forgiveness. But he can give and not receive, not having a problem with it; it's the least he can do for you, and you deserve it.

Yet you return his kisses with full hunger, your hands digging in his cheeks, pressing on the skin while diving to his neck, nipping on his sensitive spots. His hold becomes stronger, looking at you with a need so primal it dampens your folds.

"I need you to do something with this" he motions the bottom of your uniform, "be a good girl, yeah? And take this off"

Once your tights are bare and the pants are over his shoulders, he gets to see your sticky panties on their full glory.

"Fuck..." he mutters hazily.

He tears the panties down, while his knee gets his way in the middle of your tights, parting them.

You tug at his jacket, pulling him closer to you, making his knee crash against the wall of the stall.

"If you wanna taste so bad" God, you sound so demanding and it's driving him nuts, "don't keep me waiting, pretty boy"

He hovers over you, kissing you hungrily.

"I'm sorry, won't happen again" he kneels down, breathe hot and close to your puffy folds.

"If you want to fix it, then fucking do so" your hands went to his hair as you felt his teeth lightly press into your thights, sucking and tugging when needed.

"Eddie" you whine, feeling his tongue trail, taunting you, his hands circling around your thighs, the mocking flick of his tongue putting you on edge. Your folds drip, reacting to him.

"Let me help this pretty cunt, yeah?" and there's a sudden swipe at your clit by his long tongue.

You claw your nails into his scalp; the tight grip has his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he let himself get lost in the taste of your pussy.

Long forgotten is the teasing, as Eddie lets his mouth fall open, pressing his starving mouth against your wet heat. His tongue kisses between your folds, finding your hot needy clit.

"Right there..." you let out a shaky breath, hips slowly bucking into his face.

His teeth graze softly the plushy skin of your pussy, knowing how sensitive you get.

"Eddie" you plead, "more"

He lets out something that sounds like a huh, pleasant vibrations against your core.

"Deeper" you mewl, "now"

"Let me try, Eddie" Venom's voice sounds inside his head, "I want to apologize too" he's about to argue but he adds, "Besides, you promised I was going to eat. I'm hungry"

Even in the dark of the bathroom, you can see black cover the front of Eddie's face, nesting in between your legs. You let out a yelp when his now longer muscle gets again inside your bud, a failed suppressed moan escaping your lips.

Brock sucks your clit into his mouth, lips wrapped around tight walls while his tongue swiped against the tip. He began a repetition of that, and when you let out a weak cry, he knows he's found your weak spot, sucking your labia into his mouth, making you press your back hard onto the wall, pushing until it starts to hurt.

"Eddie" you softly moan his name, fingers tugging at his hair roughly.

He doesn't pull his mouth from the feast, instead, his ministrations grow rougher. He lets go of the support he has on your thigh and wanders to your pussy, his fingers touching your labia. The trail is dangerously close to your entrance, his fingers get coated with the taste of you. Without thinking, he takes them to his mouth, pupils blown wide.

"So sweet" he praises, longue slicky tongue tasting your leak. Your body was filled by pleasure, coming to its peak when Brock presses his long middle finger into your needy cunt.

"That's it" he kisses your now trembling muscles (how long have you been standing?), sending butterflies to your chest. He's really earning that pardon, isn't he? Eddie is really making it hard to keep mad at him, and Venom isn't helping. "Cum for me, darling"

You whine as he pushes a second finger in. "Are you sounding louder in purpose, babe? Do you want them to find us and see what I'm doing to you? How just my mouth and fingers fuck you up? What a whore you are, fucking in a public restroom?"

You let out another loud whimper that barely gets muffled by the music coming from outside, defiant.

"I'm already fired" you pant, "I don't fucking care"

He feels it; he knows you too much: moving upwardward past your pubic bone, easily finding that soft sensitive spot of yours. Your folds clench around his fingers, Eddie knowing you're close. So now he's back to just being him (he's still warm on his chest for all those jealous feelings from before; no more sharing), his plushy lips around your clit while he thrusts into the wet sweet spot.

Your legs tense, and before you know it, you slam against the wall, arching your back as you shake with release, "Fuck!"

Your juices coat all his fingers, and without thinking he tastes again, licking the release in a rather whore-ish way. "Mm, Venom was right: sweet"

You try to catch your breath and come to understand what had just happened: you just fucked in the bathroom of your soon to be ex-job. Jesus.

Eddie gets closer to kiss you again, cupping your face, but his fingers are still wet. Without thinking, you take them into your mouth and lick your own release off him, mirroring his sensual lick movements from before, all while mantaining eye contact.

"You're gonna be the death of me" he confesses without thinking, his eyes swimming between something dark and soft.

You suck on them with your cheeks hollowed in. His breath hitches, "does this mean I'm forgiven?"

You laugh, throwing your name tag on the trash bin next to you.

"Yes" his mouth falls open, and before he says anything, you're cutting him with a kiss, still as hungry as in the beginning, to Eddie's surprise. Of course: your age says it all. "And you're next"

[fishenjoyer1]

Fish of the Day

Today's fish of the day is the flower hat jelly!

The flower hat jelly, scientific name Olindias formosus, is a small and rare jelly known for the multicolored tentacles and luminescent display. Belonging to the hydrozoa family, the flower hat jelly is not actually a true jellyfish. The main difference between them being that true jellyfish belong to the Scyphozoa class, and have a life cycle defined by a longer period as a medusa (their adult form) whereas hydrozoans have a lifecycle primarily defined by their polyp or juvenile stages, sometimes even lacking medusa forms, a pattern that can once again be found in the flower hat jelly's life cycle. Their distribution is off the coastline of Japan, Korea, and countries within Oceania. Although some believe that these jelly's can also be found outside of Argentina, and Brazil, it is thought this may be a close relative, Olindias sambaquiensis. With a depth range from sea level down to 55m of depth, these jellyfish tend to live near the ocean floor where they can hide among kelps, sea grasses, and loose rocky bottoms.

Living a nocturnal life, the flower hat jelly spends its days hiding on the ocean floor. But, once dusk arrives this jelly rises from its hiding places to capture small fishes within its tentacles, paralyzing and or killing the fish, before drawing the corpse up into the bell to be consumed. The stings from this jelly are painful, and at least one fatality has been recorded from them in Japan.  These tentacles hold most of the intrigue of the flower hat jelly.  The length of the tentacles may appear to be random, but has been found to be arranged mathematically in an optimization hashing algorithm known as fibonacci hashing. Length aside however, these jelly's, and especially their tentacles contain fluorescent proteins, which are used to attract prey when hunting, and are particularly bright under blacklight. This protein is uniquely interesting due to its use in helping treat some COVID cases, as it can be used as an inhibitor, stopping the replication of the disease, and slowing or halting its spread.

The reproduction and younger stages of the flower hat jellyfish were a mystery for many years, but in 2012 the Monterey Bay Aquarium managed to be the first to breed them in captivity, capturing a full lifecycle from larvae to polyp to medusa. Beginning as polyps attached to a hard surface along the seabed, where they are completely stationary, surviving off of a single active tentacle, which is waved back and forth to gather nutrients, forming a medusae and releasing them only once a size of 1mm was achieved. Then they will mature into juvenile medusa, which are identical to adult medusa in appearance and behavior, only being identifiable by their smaller size and less tentacles. Juvenile medusa only being around 2-20mm, and adults getting only as large as 6inches total throughout their lifespan. Adult flower hat jellies are only observed in the months of December-July with peaks in the months of May and April. However, we understand very little about how these jelly's sexually breed in the wild, but fertilization occurs externally, as gametes are released into the water to create small, non-cooperative colonies along similar areas. These animals live only 4-6 months as adults, and only around a year total before slowly losing their fluorescence and passing away.

That's the flower hat jelly, everybody, have a wonderful Tuesday!

[all-about-kyu]

♔ yes, I got roped into this event hosted by @wooyoungmybelovedhusband and @taehyungisminee

♔ I’ll be posting one fic a week for this series on Tuesdays at 9pm EST! Please enjoy!

♔ all details about the planned fics are below the cut <3

♔ August 1st ♔ dilf!Seonghwa x nanny!reader ♔ is it so bad that Seonghwa wants to give his daughter a little sibling? ♔ forbidden romance trope ♔ word count: 911

𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊

♔ August 8th ♔ alien!Jongho x human fem!reader ♔ you should be scared of this tentacle alien but you're too far gone in pleasure to care. ♔ supernatural (alien) au ♔ word count: 2,532

𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊

♔ August 15th ♔ Hongjoong x fem!reader ♔ no one knows just how powerful a pretty little trophy wife can be. ♔ established relationship trope, ceo trope, trophy wife trope ♔ word count: 778

𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊

♔ August 22nd ♔ brother's best friend!Yunho x fem!reader ♔ maybe you shouldn't have pushed his buttons this badly... ♔ brother's best friend trope ♔ word count: 1,408

𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊

COPYRIGHT STARLITMARK 2023© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — reposting/modifying any fic or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations are not permitted. 

[carriedawatermelon]

Ronance kinktober ficlet, the second. Used a random kink generator and couldn’t not do role play for the DND show, so here’s some college Ronance, in which Nancy finds that Robin’s DND swagger really fucking does it for her. As always, soft filth only for these two.

Thanks for being so kind about the last one, y’all. I’m having fun with these and it makes me happy that maybe you are, too.

Prompt: Role Play/AU

She’s supposed to be reading. She has an essay due in a week and a half that’s worth a third of her grade, and she needs to finish her outline by Tuesday, which means she needs to finish The Bluest Eye this weekend. It’s not long, and it’s not tedious, and Nancy actually gives a shit about this paper and this professor. 

She’s supposed to be reading. 

She’s not reading. 

She’s not reading because she is, somehow, at the age of 22 and years out of her parents’ house, back in their basement watching her little brother and his friends play Dungeons & Dragons. More accurately, actually, she’s watching Robin and her little brother and his friends play Dungeons & Dragons. 

That, of course, is the problem. Because Nancy is in love with Robin, and she knows this about herself, the same way she knows that Robin can turn anything into something Nancy cares about. Scallop farming? Sure, yep. The minutiae of the latest debate on the translation of a passage of The Iliad? Absolutely. The evolution of lighting in horror movies? Fascinating. Never mind that Nancy doesn’t watch horror or keep up with Homer or that scallops make her throat swell.

It’s the Robin effect, and Nancy’s three years into it with no intention of stopping. Almost four years if you count the denial and pining, which Nancy doesn’t for the sake of anniversaries but does, mostly, for considering how long Robin has had Nancy’s heart and brain and everything else, really.

Nancy should’ve known better, is the point. Nancy should’ve known better than to come down here with her book like she could be in the same room as Robin doing something that required her to talk and think and interact with other people and not immediately become distracted. This isn’t the two of them on Robin’s couch working together. (Not that that doesn’t sometimes end with Nancy getting distracted.) This is Nancy trying to work while Robin impresses a table of disgruntled teenage boys and makes Eddie laugh and plots to defeat some kind of tentacled monster with a scheme involving a slingshot (Lucas is thrilled) and a lyre.

This is Robin the Bard, apparently, and Nancy is deeply, embarrassingly, into it. 

Robin’s spot at the table means Nancy can see the profile of her face perfectly, but that Robin can’t really see her unless she turns at an awkward angle. She does a few times, just to smile at Nancy or, once, to wink like a massive nerd, and god help her, that did it for Nancy, too, her stomach flipping as she pretended to go back to reading for about ten seconds. It’s impossible, though, Nancy’s eyes always finding their way back to the table, back to Robin. 

She just got a haircut, the shag now above her ears, and she keeps running her hand through it like she can’t quite believe there’s not more. It looks good, looks amazing, which is exactly what Nancy told her before using it to guide Robin’s head between her legs before she could even make it past the entryway to Nancy’s place. The hair’s not helping things, anyway. Nor is the way she sits, legs spread as she strategizes intensely, her knee and part of her thigh exposed by her ripped black jeans. Nancy can’t look away, not that it would help if she did, because she’d be left with Robin’s voice and laugh and then she’d look again, and, well, it’s a vicious cycle, really. 

Nancy knows Robin plays at school sometimes; the queer art kids have a running game she dips into on occasion, but Nancy’s never seen it before. She knows now she’ll have to go, because she wants to see this again. Robin’s invested, her cadence shifted to match her character. She talks and jokes and helps plan but she does this thing where she makes space for the others when it seems like someone has been quiet for too long. 

She does it for Will, especially, leaves these intentional gaps for him to fill with suggestions or thoughts, makes sure he doesn’t sink into the background. Eddie’s good at that, too, but he’s so much, almost all of the time, a force, and Robin isn’t anything less but her energy feels less like a hurdle to clear and more like a lift, like cupped hands at the start of a climb. It floods Nancy with fondness and with admiration and with the desire to do things she absolutely cannot do right now. 

They break, eventually, Nancy having made about three paragraphs’ worth of progress, and Robin comes to kiss her quickly, both of them flipping off Mike as he makes a disgusted noise, before running to the bathroom and the snack supply upstairs with the rest of the boys. She turns to her book, desperate, but the cushion next to hers sinks and a tattooed arm reaches across her shoulder. Nancy sighs and slots her bookmark into place.

Eddie’s grin is shit-eating in the extreme when she turns to him, and she knows she’s caught but she still has some dignity, at least when it comes to people who aren’t Robin, so she raises her eyebrow expectantly and asks, “Can I help you?”

“I think you’re the one that needs some help, Wheeler.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His eyes flash, delighted. “Oh, you definitely do. You’ve turned exactly one page in the last hour. And you smile every time Robin says anything. It’s disgusting. It’s amazing. I’m obsessed.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be paying attention to the game?” She manages to sound bored and fights the urge to tuck her hair, a tell he’ll sink his teeth into. 

He waves her off. “I’m paying plenty of attention to the game. Everyone’s having a great time. Which you know, because you’ve been drooling over the party bard’s every fuckin’ word. Got a thing for musicians, Wheeler? Thinking about playing her lyre?”

“Classy,” she says, and he looks like she’s given him a present. “Oh, shut up.”

He cackles, removing his hand from around her to clap loudly. “Oh, I definitely won’t. I’m gonna get her to make you play next time.”

The her in question nearly stumbles from the top of the stairs, grabbing the railing with one hand as she tries to balance a plate of cookies and a can of Coke, a bag of chips dangling from her mouth. It’s a disaster waiting to happen, but before Nancy can intervene, Lucas has plucked the soda from the crook of her arm. Whatever she says, or tries to say, through the cargo in her mouth makes him laugh. 

Eddie pokes her bicep. “Incredible.”

“This is nothing new.” She tries changing tack, bored tone still in place. It’s not new. He knows her. He knows them. 

“No,” he concedes, leaning closer to keep their conversation from drifting. “But I’ve never gotten to see it like this. Does she know she has super powers? Turning the Nancy Wheeler into mush?”

“She doesn’t,” Nancy says, fondness taking over. “Even though I’ve told her.” 

“Disgusting,” he repeats, fondness in his own voice. “Try not to fall out when your girl kills the big bad.” 

And then he’s up and headed back to the table, hands clapping and rubbing together eagerly. “And we’re back.”

Nancy’s girl does kill the big bad. Her plan works, and the boys cheer, each standing to receive some applause for their role in the fight. Eddie bows in concession and then suddenly, they’re cleaning up, and Nancy doesn’t even know how long she’s been sitting there, but she hadn’t even bothered to open the book back up for the last part of the session. 

Robin makes her way over, grinning big, and falls down against the opposite arm of the sofa, her feet tangling with Nancy's where they’re tucked up beside her. Sighing, she throws an arm over her head and says wearily, “Hard work defeating an ancient eldritch being. I might need a nap.”

“Very impressive.” It’s affectionate and teasing and Nancy’s grip on Robin’s ankle is equally soft, thumb pressing in just slightly. “I especially liked the part where you danced at him.”

“Were you watching?!” She’s propped up now, blue eyes big and attentive.

“I might have been.” 

“She was!” Eddie calls, like an asshole, and Nancy feels her cheeks go red.

“It was gross. She smiled, like, the whole time.” Mike’s got his patented scowl on, but it’s the mostly kidding version. “Weren’t you supposed to be reading?” He rolls his eyes at her as he moves toward the stairs. 

“You’re just jealous that your sister bags hotter girls than you. Maybe if you smiled every once in a while you’d get a date.” Dustin calls before looking guiltily at the couch, eyes moving between Nancy and Robin. “Sorry?”

“You’re just telling the truth,” Nancy says, and Mike’s scowl deepens while the others laugh, loud footsteps carrying them upstairs. 

“Ladies,” Eddie says, hefting his backpack onto his shoulder. “Have a lovely evening.”

“Don’t be a pervert,” Nancy says, at the same time Robin says, “Thanks.”

He laughs loudly and tips an imaginary hat before he leaves. 

Robin’s biting her lip now, obviously delighted, and Nancy rolls her eyes even as she crawls across the sofa and braces herself against the arm, looking down at Robin’s smile. 

“Might have been watching, huh?”

“A little.”

“A little,” Robin repeats, looking smug, which Nancy finds unbearably attractive. 

“You’re very cute,” she says, lifting a hand to tuck some of Robin’s hair behind her ear and trace over her nose. “My bard.”

Nancy sighs into the kiss, Robin’s hand splaying wide over the small of her back while the other wraps around her forearm. 

“Adding ‘DND does it for Nancy Wheeler’ to my list of ‘Things I Never Would Have Guessed.’”

“More like Robin Buckley does it for Nancy Wheeler.”

“Also on the list,” Robin says proudly, scratching lightly at Nancy’s back in affection. 

“Are you interested in further evidence?” The question comes with a kiss to Robin’s jaw, and Nancy can feel her nod her head, the dork. 

“Always. Um, super important actually, because what if it’s on the list and not true, you know? Like, it needs to be accurate, and-“

Nancy kisses her jaw again, takes her earlobe into her mouth and sucks gently, and Robin’s hips buck just the way she knew they would, which makes it no less rewarding. Her hands move to clutch at Nancy’s hips, a whimper escaping as Nancy kisses and licks at her throat. 

“Fuck,” she breathes out, and Nancy smiles, nips gently at the skin above the collar of her t-shirt before slipping a hand underneath it. 

“Yeah, baby? Feel good?”

“Yes.” She arches into the teasing route Nancy’s taking with her fingers. “So good.”

“Good,” Nancy murmurs, palming her over her sports bra before pushing it up, rocking her hips forward at the feeling of Robin’s nipple pebbled in her hand, again at the noise she makes when Nancy takes it between her fingers. 

“Nancy,” Robin gasps, and that’s all Nancy can take, her self-control worn to nothing after god knows how long sitting and watching her girlfriend in this fucking basement. She tugs roughly, the way that makes Robin lose it, and then pulls away, breath heavy as she sits back on Robin’s legs. 

“Sit up,” she says with force, and Robin does, immediately, going exactly where Nancy puts her, which is against the back of the sofa, without any kind of fight. 

When Nancy settles, straddling her lap, she takes Robin’s hands and puts them just under her shirt, pressing until Robin gets the hint: stay. She does, fingers flexing hot against her skin as Nancy works her way back under her shirt and bra, pulling and grasping at her eagerly, tongue licking at the back of Robin’s teeth. 

When she shoves her shirt up, bending to take a nipple into her mouth and suck, one of Robin’s hands flies to the back of her head as she cries out. Nancy pulls away for long enough to kiss her, whisper, “Shh, baby. Be quiet so I can make you come, okay?” 

Robin nods, almost pained, biting her lip, and Nancy’s chest burns, hot with want and affection. “So good for me.” She knows what she’s doing, knows she’s made it that much harder for Robin to stay quiet with those words. She doesn’t care, loves the way Robin shakes with want, the little noise that escapes as Nancy lets her smile be sharp. 

Her own hips roll when she takes Robin’s nipple back into her mouth, teeth grazing lightly, and Robin bucks into her. She sucks a mark into the soft skin under her collarbone, fills herself on greedy, inelegant touches across her tits and stomach, her mouth and hands roaming and taking, lingering where Robin makes a pretty noise in the back of her throat or grips hard at Nancy’s waist. 

“Nancy, Nancy, Nancy,” she chants eventually, desperately. “Please. Please.”

Nancy pushes herself back, stares at Robin. Her head’s thrown back, chest heaving, and when she whines and meets Nancy’s eyes, her pupils are blown, dark pools in blue. Nancy wants to take her, wants to keep her, and she slides to her knees easily, settling between Robin’s spread legs and moving immediately to undo her button and fly, pressing kisses to the skin of her belly. 

Robin’s hips lift to assist as Nancy pulls her jeans down her thighs, past her knees and off of one foot with a kiss to her ankle because she hates feeling trapped. A hand plants itself in her hair, barely tugging, and Nancy smirks and kisses her calf, her knee, the insides of her thighs. 

“Nancy, please.”

She mouths over navy briefs, moans at the sharp sting of Robin’s desperate encouragement and the smell of her through the cotton. The briefs come down quickly, and Robin’s legs spread that much wider, and Nancy looks at her, at the sharp line of her jaw where her head’s tilted back, the red mark blooming on her chest, still visible where her shirt’s caught in her sports bra, a tangled mess made of want. Robin’s hand smooths through her hair, and then Nancy’s placing a kiss below her belly button, over the dark hair that covers her, to the crease of her thigh.

A whine escapes Robin, a plea, but Nancy’s already answering, licking into her and moaning at the taste, tongue dipping into wet heat and then coming up to lap at her clit. Robin tugs her t-shirt into her mouth, biting it to keep quiet, and Nancy brings two fingers up and presses into her, her own hips moving at the feeling of Robin tight around her. 

Fingers tighten in her hair, Robin’s hips rolling to meet her thrusts, and Nancy can’t help but slide the fingers of her free hand into her own jeans. It’s too tight, and she’s uncoordinated, but it’s enough for the moment, a temporary relief as she works at Robin, adding a third finger and flattening her tongue to let Robin rut the way she wants to. 

It doesn’t take long, blue eyes looking purposefully down at her as Nancy makes a show of sucking at Robin’s clit, and then Robin’s arching, eyes slamming shut, clenching around Nancy’s fingers. When the shaking stops, her hand tugging Nancy away, she goes reluctantly, pulling her own hand from her jeans as she stands. 

Robin’s breathing hard, pulling her shirt from her mouth and tugging Nancy into her lap, shoving her shirt up and the cups of Nancy’s bra down so that she can get a nipple in her mouth. Nancy undoes her pants, Robin’s hands busy on her ass and tits, and pushes them down with her underwear. Before she can even reach for her, Robin’s got two fingers curling into her perfectly, mouth still sucking eagerly. Her other hand rocks Nancy’s hip in suggestion, and Nancy takes it gratefully, too gone to start on her own. 

She rides Robin’s fingers slowly at first and then faster, hand holding her to her chest. “More,” she says, close to begging, and Robin gives her more, a third finger slipping in with ease as Nancy slides a hand down to circle her clit. It’s quick after that, Robin moving with purpose, and Nancy falls apart above her, hand moving to brace on her shoulder. 

Robin wraps her arms around her waist, pulls her close and kisses at her neck and jaw. “God, I love you,” she says into the air by her ear, making her shiver, and Nancy melts against her further. “So fucking hot. Jesus, Nance.”

“Evidence,” Nancy says, and Robin laughs, pulling them both back against the sofa. Nancy is inordinately glad she’d spread a blanket earlier, is absolutely going to have to sneak it in with her wash. 

“To be clear, is this evidence for the Robin pile or the DND pile?” Nancy swats at her shoulder. “I’m not above getting tights and pointy ears, Nance, honest to god, and how hard can a lyre actually be, like, I have my guitar, right, so-“

Nancy kisses her into silence.

“Maybe the ears,” she murmurs into the space between them a few minutes later, and basks in Robin’s laugh. 

[whowouldwininafite]