#the hand flex™️

[urhoneycombwitch]

heated touch

foreword: “but Lulu it’s not even summer yet how come you wrote a pool fic” okay first of all global warming. it’s absolutely summer rn. hush up and eat up. 👼

cw: R wears bikini top + skirt, Eddie is Down Bad™️, and is also touchstarved, brief use of the awkward miscommunication trope, R’s baby hairs mentioned but no color or texture, weed mention (Robin is a stoner canon change my mind u can’t), R uses sunscreen (no skin color mentioned), implied plus-sized reader

wc: 3.4k

___

It’s the first real, normal, non-apocalyptic summer that anyone can remember having in a long, long time. 

With the heat index at a sizzling 97 today, various members of the Party have taken over Steve’s half-shaded, half-pool extravaganza of a backyard. The kids are jumping in and out of the bright blue water, splashing and cackling, while you and Robin stretch out like house cats in a sunny patch of grass nearby.

You, mere yards away, in a swim top and sweet little pleated tennis skirt. All that lovely skin on display, glistening in the light. 

And Eddie is sulking, indoors, frozen with lovesickness. There’s condensation dripping from the forgotten can of beer in his left hand; through the window above the kitchen sink, Eddie observes the scene in mournful silence.

“Christ, you really are a pussy.”

Eddie whips around with a glare that would level a normal human being, shushing Steve with a panicked fierceness that only makes the guy chuckle harder at Eddie’s expense. 

“Y’know,” Steve continues with the insults, dipping into the fridge and reappearing with a Fanta and a shit-eating grin- “You might want to try leering like a creep from the garage window. That way no will hear you jack off-”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Harrington.” Eddie interrupts with a grade-A scoff and eye roll combo, rivaling Steve’s own bitchiness. “Wasn’t your last successful date back in high school, like, six years ago when you had better hair?”

Steve doesn’t even flinch. With condescending sympathy, he sighs and shakes his head of (beautiful-even-when-wet, damn him) hair, snapping the soda can tab with a flourish. “Might wanna hurry up and make a move. Can’t suppress my charm forever just ‘cuz you’re too chicken to man up- it’s not natural to keep all of this hidden away.”

Steve gestures to the broad expanse of his golden chest, dark thicket of hair sitting proud, the scars that he seems to have no qualms over showing off criss-cross along the flex of muscle at his sides. 

Realistically, Eddie knows Steve wouldn’t go after you, not even as a joke. It would defy the honorable and unmentioned Bro Code they’ve lived by ever since Eddie almost died in an alternate hell dimension and Steve valiantly pulled him back topside. 

Teasing, though? It’s Harrington’s godgiven right- especially since Eddie’s so hopelessly in love. It’s almost too easy to get him riled up, to light a fire under his ass to maybe finally get the situation some forward movement. 

Flames lick at the kindling. Steve walks backwards, shooting Eddie one last finger gun and wink before rejoining the boisterous outdoors crowd. Through the crack Steve’s left in the sliding glass door, Eddie can hear that asshole’s cheery voice ring out- “Lookin’ good, ladies!”- and your subsequent peal of laughter. 

Eddie can feel the heat through the black denim at his ass, sweat rushing to prickle at his pits underneath the light layer of tanktop- the one with a high-necked collar and sides long enough to conceal most of his scars. 

Not that he’s trying to hide ‘em, perse... they’re just sensitive to the sun. Plus his black jeans have holes in them, so they totally count as summer attire. He’s basically wearing shorts right now. Steve can suck it.

“Suck it, Steve,” Eddie grits out to no one for good measure, before taking a steadying gulp of beer and stepping bravely out beyond the glass doors. 

It’s shockingly bright, sun bouncing off the surface of the pool and rendering Eddie momentarily blind; he shields his eyes with his free hand in time to catch the tail end of Sinclair’s mid-air somersault.

“Five,” Max calls out, lounging safely out of the splash zone, waves from Lucas’s cannonball lapping at her pink donut pool float. Thick black prescription sunglasses take up half her face, expression unmoved even as her boyfriend splutters in the deep end.

“Are you kidding?” Lucas is indignant as he huffs and treads water. “Gimme at least an eight. Did you even see the flip?” 

“I saw it.” Unimpressed, Max shrugs a freckled shoulder. While Lucas devolves into swearing out his complaints (already with one elbow planted on the concrete to get out and make another attempt at a higher score), Max zeros in on Eddie, one brow arched high in searing appraisal. “You gonna swim with your boots on, too?”

“I’m- shut up, Red. Nice donut.”

Max’s triumphant smirk confirms what Eddie already knows (he totally bombed that comeback), but if there’s one thing in the world Eddie’s good at, it’s Pretending. A trait forged and perfected over the years of being reigning Dungeon Master; it’s served him well during D&D sessions, and when running from the law. 

And it’s coming in handy now, too, as Eddie walks past Steve (half-snoozing in a lounger) and the table of Baby Byers and Wheeler Jr. (playing an intense game of Slapjack), pretending to be totally Normal and Chill as he approaches you and Robin, a ways off from the bustling pool.

Go with what you know, Eddie tells himself, because if he focuses for more than two seconds on the fact that you’re stretched prone, sunlight filtering through the big tree overhead and illuminating the soft curves of your thighs just visible under the Spandex hem of your skirt, he’s gonna have a pressing issue that will be anything but pretend.

Robin’s lying on her back on the beach towel next to yours, a tattered copy of Pride and Prejudice held up close, obscuring her field of vision. Using this to his advantage, Eddie crouches on his haunches, then leans in to press his cold can of beer to the tender arch of Robin’s bare foot.

She yelps, kicking out on instinct (which Eddie was expecting). He manages to take the brunt of the hit with a forearm block, but doesn’t see the paperback coming until it’s hitting the side of his face.

“Ow, christ, Buckley,” he moans, slumping to sit on Robin’s towel, hamming up the victim act for your sake and sympathy while Robin snatches up her book and gives him another solid thwack, pages fluttering.

At the commotion, you’d lifted your head from your arms, leaning into them now with the weight of your upper half. Eddie tries really, really valiantly to not stare at your swimsuit top (practically a bra), and instead distracts himself with the fact that you were giggling. At him. 

Give the boy an inch and he’ll take a mile, Wayne is wont to say of his nephew. Never been truer than now, as Eddie gets drunk off your attention and humors, crowding familiarly and rudely into Robin’s space just to piss her off more and to keep your twinkling-eyed focus.

“Yech.” Robin gags. “I’m not gonna sit here and watch you two flirt up close. I just ate lunch.”

Eddie’s worried that comment will embarrass you into pulling away but apparently, you’re not shying from the accusations of his affection anymore. 

A snort and a sardonic eye roll is what you dish back, and Eddie latches on, delighted to have a Shit Starter in Crime, pushing an honest hand to his chest in faux-shock- “Flirting? Me? I’d never. What an accusation. You’re getting crazier by the day, Buckley.”

The peal of laughter that ripples from you is like a song, vibrating the frequencies between Eddie’s ears, scrambling all the channels with its aching beauty.

Goddamn addictive, he thinks, as the white-out of his hearing fades back to normal. A light, warm wind rustles through the big oak overhead, leaves shushing together; allowing himself a glance at your stretched form, Eddie’s (un)luckily close enough to see the smattering of goosebumps rise on the skin of your arms. 

To observe the way sweat curls the baby hairs near your temple, at the nape of your neck. To see the little creases near the corner of your eyes as you close them, turning your face into the wind, a quiet expression of summer bliss on your face.

Eddie could sit here for hours like a (happy) creep just taking in every minute detail, but Robin starts bitching at him about the weed he still owes her from ages ago, poking her cold toes into the holes of his jeans, mischievous and irritating.

Eddie smacks at her ankles until she pulls them back, matching her argument point for point; it’s not about the weed, of which he’d gladly give- it’s about keeping that smile on your face even as you sit up to start digging through your nearby tote bag.

“And plus,” Robin’s saying, sticking a finger into the dimple of Eddie’s left cheek like the obnoxious little sister he never asked for, “You scratched the everliving hell out of my bike last month when you insisted you were sober enough to ride it home.”

“What’d you want me to do, drink and drive? Not very Just Say No Club of you.” Eddie is operating on autopilot with his responses, absorbed in the way your delicate fingers move inside the canvas of the bag. 

“I wanted the same thing that I currently. Want.” Two more ice-cold prods of her toes into the same spot of his exposed knee. “Three grams, pre-rolled, plus an apology.”

Eddie is about to give in with the promise of the rest of his sizable stash and a bike waxing regimine with his own spit thrown into the mix to get Robin off his case, when the sound of your voice cuts through the bickering. 

In your hand, held aloft and out between the three of you, is a bottle of sun lotion. Your focus is fixed on shaking displaced items back into your bag, not looking as you make a request:

“Babe, would you do my back?”

Eddie moves on instinct before he even has time to process the ask, reaching out towards the palm tree-printed plastic- but for some reason, Robin’s hand collides with his mid-air. Goddammit, Buckley. 

His annoyance at Robin quickly gives way to confusion, then roiling embarrassment as two sets of eyes whip to him, your mouth slightly parted in an o shape and Robin making a squeak of awkward alarm.

You were talking to Robin. Obviously, you were talking to your girl friend to rub you down with lotion. 

Jesus christ, Munson, get a grip.

Eddie lets go at the same time Robin and you draw back, the three of you stammering half-sentences over the thunk of the bottle hitting the ground.

“I meant- sorry, god, sorry, I meant Robin-”

“Fucking- jesus, of course you meant Robin, I’m sorry-”

“Oh god! I can do it! It’s fine!”

There’s a brief pause where all of you stare down at the bottle, as if it holds some great mystery of the world. Or is perhaps concealing a time-bending device that will let Eddie go back twenty seconds to kick himself in the head.

He’s just about to make some lame excuse to fuck off forever when Robin beats him to it, jumping up with a spastic, nervous energy. “Um. Steve’s calling me. So I gotta… see what that dingus wants. You’re good?”

This last part, directed at you; with a quick, reassuring nod, you say “I’m good.” 

Seemingly recouped from the whole debacle, you squint up at Robin- “Eddie’s got it,” and then fixing Eddie with a disarmingly beatific smile- “Right?”

It’s like looking into the sun. Eddie is pretty sure his neurons haven’t been firing properly ever since he caught a glimpse of your thighs earlier. By some miracle, he manages coherence- “Uh-huh. Yep. Right.”

“O-o-kay.” Robin lets the word expand, then gives a dorky two-finger salute and makes for the empty pool lounger next to a snoring Steve.

Then it’s just you and Eddie, blinking at each other from your seats on opposing towels, until you lean to pick up the bottle, this time handing it directly to him. 

An invitation, paired with a smile that still pulls at the corners of your mouth.

Someone jumps noisily into the pool, a few scattered cheers accompanying the crashing water. Red’s distant “Nine-five!” echoes through the backyard and this, of all things, spurs Eddie into unfreezing.

He takes the proffered lotion, shifting to kneel in the strip of grass not covered by either of your towels, waiting and watching for your approval. 

Like something out of a dream, you lower yourself face-down again, hands tucking themselves sweetly into the space between the hollows of your shoulders and the ground. Eyes half-lidded as Eddie scooches closer.

“Just on your back?” He asks, soft, like you’re a deer about to spook (although based on the way his hands are trembling, Eddie’s the more likely candidate for chickening out and running for the hills).

“Mhm. Please.”

Fumbling under your sidelong gaze, Eddie wiggles all the rings from his fingers, stuffing them into his pocket. 

“Too cold,” he explains, feeling fidgety from your eye contact, rubbing his hands together briskly to bring out the warmth and give them something to do other than shake.

Eddie pines for a cigarette, a quick burst of nicotine to steel his nerves. Instead, he picks up the sunscreen, squeezes a quarter-sized puddle into his left hand, and shifts to kneel close as he can without actually bumping his knees into your side.

The sunscreen is already warmed from being out in the heat of the day, so Eddie starts on your left shoulder. Dips his fingers into the puddle, spreads a thin layer on the blade of your shoulder, and rubs it in. 

At first, his touch is gentle and apprehensive, but when your eyes drift shut on the second pass of his fingers, Eddie gets a bit bolder. On your right shoulder, another layer of suncream goes on, but this time, Eddie lets his thumb slip into the grooves under your shoulder blade. 

He runs his thumb along the stripe of muscle next to your scapula, still with pressure light enough to feign keeping to his task, thrilled when you make a soft noise of satisfaction.

“I would’ve asked you, y’know.” 

Eddie pauses, hand resting at the top of your spine, the skin of your neck freshly glistening and tacky from his work. “Asked me what?”

“To do this.” You shrug a shoulder, pointing in a roundabout way at your back. “I just… I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

“Why the hell would I say no to this?” The words are out before Eddie can bite them back and find a much more cool and normal thing to say. He can feel your chuckle, the vibrations of it, the way it causes the muscles in your upper back to move.

Eddie tries to cover his lameness by refocusing on the mission he’s been given, like a heroic knight bestowed with a great honor by a fair maiden… on second thought, he’s got to cut out the fantasy metaphors. This situation is wild and tempting enough as-is without adding a potentially very horny layer to the mix.

“You can get under my top, if you want,” you murmur, lashes dark against your cheek in profile, voice all honeyed and fair-maiden-like. 

Eddie swallows hard. Distributes the rest of the lotion between two palms, rests them just below the black fabric, and then slides up. Underneath the top, your skin is the same- smooth and pliant and sweet. 

“Feels nice,” you whisper, eyes still closed in reverie, sounding sleepy and relaxed.

Eddie is entranced with the way your muscles move under his touch. He applies a bit more pressure to the mid-back area of your spine, dragging his thumbs down on either side. You make another noise, this one closer to a moan, and Eddie’s really glad he’s practiced at the skill of Boner Killer On Command because he wouldn’t dare sully the atmosphere with ill-timed arousal (though his limits are certainly being tested today).

“Sorry about the callouses,” he says, a bit of self-deprecation to fill the air because he’s gotta focus on something other than the way his hand fits perfectly in the center of your low back.

“S’okay. I like them, actually. You’re good with your hands.”

Not for the first time, Eddie is relieved that you’re not looking at him- his ears are burning, on their way to bright pink. Same with his cheeks. “Cool, yeah. That’s good. Um. I play guitar, y’know so… I get around.”

After cringing at himself, Eddie watches the apple of your cheek round upwards with a smile, a sharp flash of your teeth as you say, “I can tell.”

There’s an amiable quiet that falls over the two of you; in the background, splashes and chattering from the pool group float in the air, muted by the warm winds shushing through overhead branches. 

At one point, Eddie realizes he’s covered your whole back in sunscreen and is now just trailing his fingertips over the notches of your spine, starting low and ending near your neck, following the path down again in a loop. If you mind, you don’t say anything, seemingly sated by his touch. 

There’s an aching behind Eddie’s ribs. It squeezes at his heart, makes his next breath pinch- he wants to touch you like this all the time. He’s already hooked. 

All too soon, you’re peeling yourself from the blanket, sitting up with a sheepish smile. Eddie can’t tell if you’re getting shy on him from the touch alone, or if it’s the fact that he’s the one that’s been touching. 

Either way, if Eddie could find a more chill way to say “I’d like to do that every minute for the rest of my life if you’ll let me,” he’d say it to appease any worries you may have. 

Bare knees pulled to your chest, you gesture at the bottle still in Eddie’s hand. “I could… do you, if you wanted?”

Eddie scratches the back of his neck, through the heated curtain of curls. “Nah, that’s okay. My abs won’t be ready to debut until the end of summer. 1993.”

He’s expecting at least a chuckle out of you, but instead, he’s fixed with a kind, all-knowing look. 

The two of you are face to face, your shin close enough to brush Eddie’s ribs as you state, “Not a fan of the heat, are you.”

“What gave it away?” Eddie gestures animatedly at the humidity-fed frizz of his hair, then shakes his head like a wet dog. 

When you catch one of his curls between two fingers he freezes, heart slamming to a pause as you loop it around a knuckle.

“I have some deep conditioner at my place. Could help you out if you wanna come by some time.”

Mere inches from his cheek as you lean in, Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, trying to memorize how you smell- coconutty from the lotion, a bit sweaty, a faint hint of deodorant and the vanilla perfume you spray in the mornings. 

He’s never been this close before. 

He feels electric. Or more accurately, like he’s been electrocuted, and he’s waiting for you to restart his heart. 

“Does that sound good, Eddie? You, me, some hair care… maybe a movie? I can steal some from Family Video. I know a guy.”

At his ear now, your voice is low as you wrap a hand around the inside of Eddie’s arm- it’s his turn to break into goosebumps. “Oh yeah? Willing to steal for me already?”

This earns him a stellar laugh, head tipped back to show the curve of your perfect neck. You shove at him playfully, and he’s about to snap up your hand to bite as payback when your name is yelled from across the yard.

“Come on, we need another unbiased judge!” Max waves urgently from the pool as Lucas and Dustin get into an increasingly loud argument over the Olympic grading system. 

“Goddamn kids.” This comes out much more growly than Eddie intended; you just chuckle and squeeze his arm before pulling away to stand.

Eddie mourns the loss of your body heat until you extend a hand towards him, saying, “Let’s go humor our goddamn kids, and we can talk about dinner afterwards.”

It’s like your hand is made to fit inside Eddie’s. He follows close on your heels, heart thudding a steady, overjoyed rhythm once more. 

[shirefantasies]

Heyo, saw ur requests were open and wanted to send smthn in!!

Was hoping u could do LOTR characters x crush reader who’s generally pretty outgoing and chill? Maybe gives a lot of casual compliments, kind of jokingly flirting and makes a lot of horny™️ jokes. Still like, more serious when need be but tried to be lighthearted

Also if u want more specific characters then just Legolas, Merry and Pippin would work :))

LoTR Characters Reacting to Their Flirty Jokester Crush

(Old request! Requests still temporarily closed)

Doesn’t say much, but they have a lot of thoughts: Aragorn, Frodo, Arwen, Elrond

(Character).exe has stopped working: Sam, Faramir, Eowyn

Gives it right back: Legolas, Boromir, Gimli, Pippin, Galadriel

“Cut that out” (secretly enjoys it): Merry, Eomer, Haldir

Aragorn mostly just grins or shakes his head in amused exasperation at you. Especially if you choose to make jokes at people who are particularly stoic, like Haldir or Eomer. He'll do the same if you make those jokes directly to him, simply grin down at his pipe or the sword he is cleaning and chuckle. On the inside, though? A part of him wants to tackle you then and there, but of course that is simply your manner... right? Frodo always gives a charming little look of surprise before glancing away. If you are close enough, you might see the flush that rises to his fair cheeks. He bursts into a smile and a faint chuckling breath and if he is not the recipient he glances toward your target, especially if your joke is particularly scandalous. His head is rushing with questions: do you mean it? Are you hiding something beneath your jokes? Why do you make them more often to him? Arwen always offers you a wide grin, sometimes even a playful swat to your shoulder or elbow if you are in her father or grandmother's presence. Occasionally she may even ask what they are to do with you, but when she is alone, the only company her own, she cannot stop the rush of thoughts about your words. Do you really think so, then? Perhaps she should offer you some encouragement at your next meeting... Lord Elrond has seen much in this world, too much to be shocked though he can shake his head at your marked lack of decorum. A thrill still runs down his spine, though, at the way you gently touch him, your whispers and devilish grins, and a tentative smile rises to his lips even as he shakes his head at you. Try as he might, Elrond simply cannot shake off the thoughts that rise to his head, the images your words conjure. He fears that soon he will simply give in entirely, and such a thought does little to quell the anticipatory shivers.

The parting of Sam's lips, the widening of his lovely green eyes, even the subtlest flex and release of his nervous hands, all make your manner beyond worthwhile. It only makes you smile wider how surprised he is, especially when he tells you not to tease so and you ask him who's teasing? There's no mistaking the way his cheeks redden at that! The brief rise of Faramir's eyebrows is all his expression betrays as it remains neutral, pondering, peering at you with interest as if he is waiting for you to continue or letting you try again. Whether that spurs further comment by you or lets you simply escape and breeze away with a mischievous smile, you can decide, but know that the moment you look away Faramir's facae completely collapses, your effect irresistible. No one has made comments so directly to Eowyn before you, your words freezing her in a smile and sending her beautiful blue eyes searching yours as she chews her lip half pensively, half at the rise of other thoughts. She is not your sole recipient and yet she feels desired by you. What a delicious thought. Could you mean it?

Legolas skips not a single beat before the perfect retort falls from his rising lips. You return with another comment and he steps closer with yet another reply. The others, especially Aragorn, are shaking their heads at you, Merry and Pippin grinning widely and elbowing each other at your antics. Boromir grins at your words, trying his best to fluster you with comments equally scandalous right back. The smile rarely falls from his face in your presence and he takes to teasing you, even playfully taking and hiding your things to get your attention. Holding them up high hoping you'll stand against him to reach for them. Sometimes he simply calls out your jokes as soon as you've made them, telling you you clearly have a lot on your mind or even outright asking why you are thinking so. Gimli bursts out into devilish, triumphant laughter at your jokes and always seems to have something to add. He’ll tell you you’re absolutely filthy, and the wild look in his eyes and wide upward quirk or his lips assure you this is a compliment. Whenever he catches that look of mischief in your eyes, he nods and provides you with ample encouragement no matter the target. But especially if it is mischief directed toward Legolas or Aragorn or one of your many scandalous compliments directed his way. Puffing out his chest, he takes it with relish. Rather than use his words, Pippin returns your jokes with acts of his own, always being the first to laugh and pull you into games, dances, and pranks with Merry. He replies with a lot of ‘oh yes?’ and small encouragements, especially to your saucier quips. In addition, he wants to be the sole recipient so he will try little things to get your attention and always be around you. Challenge is presented by none other than the Lady Galadriel, who does far more than smile or dismissively shake her head at your comments. Rather she will dare you to put your proverbial money where your mouth is. “Oh, would you really?” “Why do you not demonstrate, then?” Most often you hear these words inside your own mind, looking over to see her giving you what outwardly looks like a friendly smile, but you catch a different glint in her eyes.

“If you keep that up, you’ll disturb his stance.” Merry appears to be chastising you, but you can see by his smile and the sparkle of his gaze upon you that that is far from the truth. Rather he challenges you to see if you truly can disturb Pippin and Boromir’s training. He asks you what you think you’re doing when you play footsie with him by the fire or whisper puns that would make a grown hobbit blush when opportunity avails, but you notice how his smile never falters. You never thought you would see Eomer, marshal of the Riddermark, flustered and lost for words, that stoic exterior finally cracking, but your first pun that such words as you heard were usually spoken in bed have him speechless for a moment. Finally he speaks, telling you this is no time for jokes, but you catch the faintest smile playing into his lips from the shadows of his helmet as he turns away. In fact, the next time you nudge him and fidget at his side, he simply butts you with his shoulder back. Similarly, Haldir also bids you hold your tongue, but the raise of a single blonde brow he gives you is anything but quelling. In fact, all it speaks to you is intrigue. You feel him stiffen when you teasingly grab his hands and you see his eyes fixate firmly upon your lips when you make a suggestive comment. He starts sitting closer to you, legs resting warmly adjacent to your own thighs, and tentatively returning your gestures like nudges. Absolutely still shuts down ‘in bed’ remarks in front of the others, though. Decorum and all.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @filiswingman @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn @wordbunch @tiny-and-witchy @th3-st4r-gur1 @fleurdemiel-145 @mistresskayla-blog1 @misabelle717 @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @evattude | Reply/Message/Ask to join 💕

[forever-rogue]

you know that hand thing joel does sometimes? please please please write something with reader aka joel’s girl™️ noticing he shakes his hand that way when he’s anxious/nervous/upset so she grabs it and squeezes to show him she’s there. He didn’t even realize it was a tell of his but it’s just another way she shows how attentive she is and how much she loves him which obviously makes his heart go all brrrrr 🥰🥰🥰

AN | Yes! I think about this way too much 🥺 

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.1k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel Miller had been a tough nut to crack. So closed off and reserved when it came to anyone but Tommy or Ellie, but you’d managed to worm your way into his heart. You’d managed to bring down his walls over time, bit by little bit.

That’s how you realized that he had a tell for when he was anxious or nervous. It hadn’t taken long to notice the way he often flexed his hand when he was feeling out of his element. It was easy to pick out from how often you found yourself watching him, studying him as though he was a you wanted to ace. In a way you did, you wanted to know him in every which way, wanted to know every facet of his being, no matter how much time and patience it took. He was worth it, he was your heart. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You hadn’t fully told him that you were onto his little tell but you tried to tell him it’s okay, I’m here whenever you saw that signature little hand squeeze. 

Whether it was in the middle of a conversation or something that was happening around him, you tried to reach for his hand as quickly as possible. The good thing was that ever since he accepted how much he craved the sheer intimacy of your touch, he loved holding your hand. In the beginning it had often been you reaching for his hand, but now it was an equal dance. 

But right now, as you watched him speaking with Steven, one of the men that he often went on patrol with, you could see it was something serious. You excused yourself from where you were working with Maria, promising you’d be back shortly, and went over to Joel. He barely heard you walk up, but as soon as he felt your hand reaching for his, he visibly relaxed and leaned towards your soft body. 

The effect the simple gesture had on him was palpable. You didn’t even interrupt or add anything to the conversation, you just remained at his side, brushing your thumb soothingly along his skin. It was strange in some ways, to think that this man could get as anxious as you did. But then again, he was only human after all. 

When he was done speaking to Steven, you turned to you with a gentle expression on his face. He brought his hand to your face and brushed his knuckles along your cheek. You turned your face ever so slightly and pressed a kiss to palm before leaning in to kiss him, sweet and saccharine. 

“Thank you,” he whispered as you looked at him innocently, “you came just in time.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” you insisted softly, “I saw you and couldn’t help myself. I’ll take any opportunity to see you.”

He hummed in content before wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in for a hug. It felt so good - warm and familiar - just like home. He felt him kiss the side of your head before whispering, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you beamed at him with a shy smile, “I better get back to helping Maria before she kills me. Lots to do today. I’ll see you later, love.”

“See you later baby,” you couldn’t help but give him one more kiss before stepping away. You gave him a little wave before running off to Maria; he was grinning at you the entire time.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were lying next to Joel, your head on his bare chest as you listened to the steady beating of his heart. You had an arm draped around his middle and reached for his free hand and laced your fingers together. It was such a subconscious thing that you didn’t even realize you were doing most of the time. He had an arm wrapped around you, aimlessly tracing the bare skin of your back. 

If it was possible, you would have stayed like this forever, but for now you would take as much as you could get it.

“What’re you thinking about?” he must have been some kind of mind reader, because he always knew exactly when you had something on your mind, “tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

You laughed lightly, a sound that always went straight to his heart every time. You shifted out of his arm and laid on your stomach so you could face him, resting your chin in your hands. Joel huffed softly in amusement as he gently brushed the hair out of your face, “it’s nothing importantly - really. Just observations.”

“Tell me your observations then,” he leaned back against the pillow and you couldn’t help but want to crawl into his lap, “if you want to share.”

“I do,” you promised, “there’s no one I want to share more with than you.”

“So…”

“I was just thinking about your little tell,” you said softly, “it’s just something I’ve noticed s’all.”

“My tell?” he raised an eyebrow, clearly not picking up on what you were trying to say, “what do you mean?”

“Your tell,” you repeated, reaching for his hand, “it’s how I know when you’re getting nervous or anxious. You do this thing with your hand - it’s like a squeezy flexy thing.”

“Huh,” he mused for a moment, and you feared for an instant that you might have overstepped. But then he chuckled and looked at his hand, “I guess you’re right. I never thought someone else would pick up on it. I didn’t even really think about it.”

“It’s not really anything,” you said softly, “I like watching you and it’s something I’ve picked up on. I like watching people, studying them. And you, Joel Miller, are my favorite subject.”

He quieted for a moment before smiling in that soft, lazy way he did when he was most comfortable and content. He trailed his fingers along your jaw, studying you in return, "yeah?"

"Mhmm," you took his hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

"C'mere," he wrapped his fingers around your wrist and gently pulled you towards his lap. You shifted so you could sit on top of his legs, face to face with him, "I like watching you too. You have a lot of tells of your own, you know."

"Oh?" Your nose crinkled in surprise as he held onto your hips, his thumbs brushing over your bare skin, "what are they?"

"When you're mad or upset, you always hum under your breath. When you're nervous or uncomfortable, you make silly jokes when they're not relevant to the conversation," you couldn't deny that both those things were true. It still made your cheeks warm up when you realized just how closely he must watch you too, "and you always get this little smile on your face when you cum. It's a dead giveaway every time."

"Joel! I-"

"It's true," his hands were already roaming your skin now, "don't even deny it. It's sexy. I'll have to show you."

"How would you…" you followed his gaze and saw that it landed on the big mirror on the opposite wall, "oh."

"Will you let me show you?" He leaned in and nudged his nose against yours, lips ghosting over yours. And just who were you to deny him?

"Yes."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ever since you’d pointed out his little quirk, he started reaching out for you whenever felt himself grow anxious, nervous, or upset. Just as he had reached out to you before, he found it becoming even more of a conscious thing. He liked that you were able to read him so well; it was such an intimate and sacred thing. Sometimes he had no idea what he would do without you. 

Luckily he’d never have to find out.

“Ellie,” his tone was somewhere between angry and annoyed as he looked at her. She looked back at him with wide eyes, preparing for the worst. You’d been in the kitchen making dinner but stopped and peeked into the living room when you heard Joel raise his voice, “what were you thinking?!”

You wiped your hands on the rag and walked over to them, already looking for the telltale sign of his nerves. Sure enough, there was his hand flexing subconsciously. You huffed lightly before walking over to him and immediately reaching for his hand to take it in yours and give it a gentle squeeze, “Joel, honey, it’s okay.”

“She could have gotten hurt,” he looked between you and Ellie and you could instantly tell that his anger was out of concern and love, “do you know what your daughter did?”

“Ellie?”

“I went out with Dina,” she confessed, her eyes looking anywhere but at you or Joel, cheeks growing pink, “we went out beyond the border.”

“And didn’t tell anyone.”

“And didn’t tell anyone,” she swallowed thickly, casting a quick glance at you, “we just wanted to go out for a little while - we came right back!”

“Oh Ellie,” you squeezed Joel’s hand as you tried to keep your voice even, “baby, that’s dangerous, you know it is. If you’re going to do something reckless, at least tell one of us. Please.”

“Or don’t do anything reckless,” Joel felt his annoyance dissipating as he looked between his girls.

“Yeah, or that,” you agreed, “okay?”

“Okay,” she eased up as she took a step closer, “Dina wanted to go and I-I didn’t want to say no.”

“That’s what happens when you like somebody,” you let go of Joel’s hand so you could squish her in a tight hug, “and that’s fine, just don’t lose your head.”

“Okay,” she looked relieved as she hugged you back, whether it was the fact that you weren’t yelling or the fact that her little not so well kept secret didn’t bother you, “I’m sorry. Sorry, Joel.”

His hands were on his hips but he wasn’t mad. Not really. He just wanted to know she was safe, “‘s okay, baby girl. Just be careful, please.”

“I will,” she let go of you and went over to hug, hugging him just as tightly as she buried her face into his chest, “are you still mad at me?”

“No,” he replied with a trademark sigh as he hugged the girl back, “I wasn’t….just worried.”

“You were a little at least,” she insisted, “I could tell. You did your little hand thing.”

“Little hand thing - oh? How did you know?” his expression was incredulous as she laughed and exchanged a look with you, “did you tell her?”

“I did not,” you promised, holding up a few fingers as a scout promise, “that was all her. Maybe you’re not as subtle as you think you are. Or maybe we just love you and notice these things about you.”

“Hmm,” he shook his head in amusement, “the both of you are something else.”

“Yeah, but you’re stuck with us…so.”

“So…” he teased as he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer. 

“Say it back,” Ellie raised an eyebrow as Joel snorted. He knew exactly what she meant, “say it!”

“I don’t know…”

“Joel!”

“Fine,” he held his hands up in mock surrender as he kissed the side of your head and did the same to Ellie, “I love you both.”

“There we go,” you grinned at him, “Ellie, go wash up for dinner. And you, sir, can help me finish.”

Ellie grinned as she ran upstairs and you turned back to Joel, “am I really that obvious?”

“Terribly so,” you grinned, “hate to break it to you.”

“Hmm, I’m sure,” he ushered you further until the kitchen until your back was against the counter and you were in his hold, “I love you, you know.”

“I love you too, you know.”

[emry-stars-art]

Ok ok but royal au Andrew def does the Darcy hand flex™️ after any hand interaction with Abram

YOU UNDERSTAND MY VISION

[meowzfordayz]

shiny

Author’s Note: sooo this was supposed to be for a college au, secretly dating trope suggestion (as well as for an emergency request for fluff 😅)… but then The H*rny™️ hit 🥴, and uhh, it turned into its own lil thing. 😏

shiny

Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader

Word Count: ~2,200

CW: 18+NSFW, cream!pie, explicit language, Fem!Reader

~faqs~

“Sanemi, don’t you think she’s a little out of your league?”

Obanai’s stern tone does little to soften the reality behind his question, Sanemi once more reminded of why he can only watch—can only yearn—from a safe distance of ten physical feet, five invisible rungs on the social ladder, and one gigantic she-doesn’t-even-know-I-exist problem.

“Nobody’s out of my league,” Sanemi mutters, glare darkening with his trademark scowl, “She’s just shiny, is all. I’m easily distracted.”

“And that’s why you ignore me whenever she happens to be at the same dining hall as us,” Obanai snorts.

“Fuck-” Sanemi’s fork scrapes across his plate.

Raising an eyebrow, Obanai continues, “And also why you terrified those women away from their table.”

“-off,” fork stabbing loudly at his dry chicken.

“That just happened to be across from where she was sitting.”

“I said-” tearing sloppily into the overcooked meat. 

Mask stretching as Obanai grins, he makes his final push, “And forgot to eat your food after she made eye contact with you.”

Mouth full, words muffled, “-f’ck ‘ff!”

“If nobody’s out of your league, then why don’t you say,”—in a breathy, squeaky voice—“Hi, I’m Sanemi!”

Swallowing his bite in a single motion, “I don’t talk like that,” Sanemi glowers, “Besides, shiny things lose their sparkle the moment you touch them.”

“Whatever man,” Obanai scoffs, “Shiny things also tend to hate crude assholes.”

“I’ll crude your fucking asshole.”

Eyes rolling, Obanai switches gears, “So Mitsuri and I-”

Only to be promptly interrupted, fork waved aggressively in his direction, “Don’t fucking start on your goddamn perfect love life.”

“Perfect?” Obanai huffs, whining now, “Dude, you know how long it took for-”

“If this is supposed to be a roundabout pep talk or offering of love advice,” Sanemi stands, half finished plate in one hand, steel grip around his glass with the other as he tilts his head back to chug the remainder of his lemonade, “Just fucking don’t.”

Waiting in lines isn’t your strong suit, fingernails rapidly tapping your lukewarm plate, droplets of water glistening under the too familiar lighting of the dining hall. You’d already scratched off the faint remains of someone else’s lunch, not bothering to search for a new, cleaner plate — they all had some sort of residue. Lifting your gaze to survey the people ahead of you, you’re immediately hindered by the tall, broad stature of a white haired man, the tension in his back muscles emphasized by the tightness of his moss green shirt. Sighing quietly, you notice his neck twitch, the curve of his biceps discernible as his arms—presumably—cross in front of him.

“Hey,” you say, chatter, clang, and hiss of lunchtime swallowing your attempt to get his attention, “Hellooo.”

Somehow, his biceps flex harder, fabric of his shirt’s armholes stretching to accommodate his strength.

“Um, alright,” you mutter, refocusing on your plate, fingernails returning to their tapping, “Never mind, I guess-”

“If you want, you can cut me.”

You blink, vision flashing to the Beautiful purple eyed man turning around to face you.

“Are they real?” you gush, cheeks warming, eyes squeezing shut before you can process any shame.

“Pardon?” a teasing, incredulous lilt lingers in his voice, “I can see, if that’s what you’re-”

“No, like, are they contacts?”

If it wouldn’t hammer the final nail on your coffin of embarrassment, you’d slap yourself right then and there.

“Open your eyes,” he speaks softer now, “I’m not wearing contacts.”

Eyes opening sheepishly, you stick out your free hand, “Nice to meet you, I apologize, you probably get the eyes thing a lot,” they’re too pretty for you to not.

“I’m Sanemi,” he responds evenly, your hand untouched as his jaw clenches, “Are you going to cut me or not?”

“Or not,” you reply quickly, nose scrunching as you glance away, hand dropping limply, “I can wait.”

“Your incessant tapping suggests otherwise,” he—Sanemi—grunts, “If you’re not gonna cut me, then at least be less annoying to everyone else in line.”

You snort, “Are you usually this combative?” pointedly ignoring his jab.

“Usually, I don’t offer up my spot in line.”

“So does that mean I’m special,” you grin now, eyes glittering at the way his brow furrows, “Or just extra annoying?”

“Extra annoying,” he deadpans, “Definitely extra.”

With a friendly pout, you lapse into silence, shuffling forward an insignificant amount, inwardly cursing whoever poorly planned the university budget to short staff the dining halls.

“Y’know, you look familiar.”

Sanemi shrugs, back turned once more to you, shoulder blades rippling with the motion, “Makes sense.”

“What, am I not original enough for you?” you grumble, cheeks warming again as he whips around to glare at you.

“Why are you talking to me?”

“I don’t know!” you exclaim, “To be nice? To be annoying? Because I’m bored and hangry and this line seems to go on for forever?!”

Lips twitching, he slowly gestures in front of him, still glaring, “Cut me.”

“No!”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Before you can protest, he maneuvers himself behind you, impatience radiating from his body, lean muscles barely grazing your bare arms, goosebumps raising when he crosses his own, the view so much more defined from your new perspective. You’re too busy memorizing his physique to notice his reaction to your careful attention; too busy uttering his name under your breath, committing it to heart, to see the blush creep up his collarbones, his neck, his earlobes; too busy finally getting food to catch him opening, closing, then opening his mouth, a hushed And what’s your name? caught beneath hesitation and loneliness.

“Thanks Sanemi,” you say, waving cheerfully, “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

His response falters in his throat as he watches you leave, gaze swiveling to eventually—reluctantly—make eye contact with Obanai. Good effort! Obanai gives him a thumbs up, just as Sanemi groans lowly, flipping him off.

“Sanemi,” you whisper, fingertips walking warmly across his scars, smooth and sensitive to the touch, his breath catching at the light pressure, “Promise me you were sober.”

Body vibrating with quiet laughter, he catches your hand, lips gentle and wet as he kisses each of your fingertips, “I don’t drink,” eyes flitting over to your haphazardly tossed clothing, “And you?”

“I had one,” you murmur, lifting yourself to roll atop him, straddling his waist, thighs sweaty and soft, heat stirring in his groin at the familiar position, “Way before you arrived.”

“Waited for me, hm?” he chuckles smugly, gripping your hips, kneading into your skin, a strangled hiss tightening his lungs as his cum leaks from your slippery folds to his stomach, “Didn’t think I’d see you at a party like this.”

“And I didn’t think you threw parties,” you quip back, reveling in the filthy squelch of your languid grinding, his rigid abdominals flexing shiny and divine against the bump of your clit, “Till your roommate introduced himself, invited me over,” draping yourself over his chest, tits heavy and warm on his sternum, voice promising and heady in his ear, “I didn’t think I’d be getting fucked tonight.”

“Me neither,” Sanemi rasps, cockhead swollen and smearing precum against the plush of your ass, erect again, “Didn’t think you’d show up on my doorstep,” grasping your jaw to present your neck to his bared teeth, nipping greedily, “Looking so fucking gorgeous, like you were begging for someone to devour you,” tongue swiping flat and messy at the hollow of your throat, his hips bucking upward for friction, “Good thing I found you first, hm? Good thing I got to your pretty mouth, to your beautiful cunt, before some other fuck.”

“Sanemi,” you whimper, tugging your head down slightly, just slightly enough to see the dangerous, hazy glint in his purple stare, “W-wasn’t here to f-fuck anyone.”

“But you did, didn’t you?” he teases lightly, releasing your jaw with a final, tender kiss to your chin, “Had me wrapped around your finger the moment I saw you, laughing with your friends in the dining hall, that incredible smile of yours knotting my stomach,” swallowing thickly, dangerous edge fading as quickly as it surfaced, feather soft confession taking its place, “I must’ve become absolutely insufferable,” snorting amusedly, “If Obanai intervened.”

“I forgot to tell you my name,” you admit sheepishly, beginning your own parade of sloppy, heated kisses across the sheen of his collarbones, exertion from his first orgasm still evident, “Thought I missed my shot,” reaching behind you for his cock, deft thumb circling his tip, grinning at his unabashed moan, “Wondered how I could possibly recover from such an encounter with your mesmerizing hair and brilliant eyes,” winking playfully as you squeeze his cock, earning a halfhearted scowl, “Your gentlemanly gesture of saving me from my hanger.”

“Want to feel you again,” is your only warning, and then he’s bullying his cock between your folds, whining sharply as his tip nudges in, rhythm shallow and wanton, gradually stuffing himself further and further into your honeyed, dripping hole, “Fuck,” he grits out, your ass so perfect and weighted atop him, “You feel so fucking good.”

“Is this all you want?” you ask quietly, question nearly lost in the broadness of his chest, pussy clenching tight and overwhelmed around him.

“This?” he manages to scoff, his exasperated, adoring eyes meeting your unsteady, wide gaze, “‘Course not, I want to get to know you, your favorite color, how you look in the morning, what buttons I can push, when to say I’m sorry,” repetitive, gentle grunts underlying his reassurance as he continues thrusting torturously slow, “I’ve got a devastating crush on you, you idiot, so why the fuck would this be all I want?”

“Well you did just call me an idiot,” you giggle, back arching into his movements, his eyes glimmering at the display of your breasts.

He huffs, “Learn it or hate it, but s’my love language.”

“I’m thoroughly enjoying this love language,” you drawl, grabbing onto his shoulders, sweat trickling shiny and subtle as you readjust yourself, “I guess I could adapt to ~odd pet names too.”

As Sanemi’s pace hastens, second climax coaxed harsh and unrelenting from your body, he slips one hand from your hip to your sex, palm pressing strong and intense on your clit, the most stunning wail tearing feral and needy across his bedroom as you cum on his cock, thighs squeezing the air from his lungs, fingernails digging deeply into his shoulders, neck faintly mottled with the aftermath of his love biting.

Sunlight glows weakly through his blinds, the quiet pulse of your breaths preventing Sanemi from wiggling even an inch, too afraid of shattering the stillness of his dream. Your leg’s slotted comfortable and trusting between his own, fingers pressing soft dots into his chest, a sensation he wishes he could bottle for a rainy day. Thankful for his lack of drinking, and thus, lack of a hangover, his eyes blink closed, basking in the recollection of your unexpected passion, the shine of moonlight on your naked figure, the curve of your smile, hot and welcoming against his mouth.

“So how do I look in the morning?”

Your sleepily murmured question startles him, the uptick in your breathing having gone unnoticed, too deep in his reminiscence. Head tilting to better see you, he smirks fondly, gaze more serene without the exhaustion of the day settled in yet.

“Like you just woke up,” he says nonchalantly, nevertheless breaking into an endeared smile, muscular arm tugging you closer to him, so close you can see the flecks of muted silver in his irises.

“Hm, thank gosh it’s Saturday,” you yawn, limbs stretching in his embrace, toes finding purchase on his ankles, “I definitely did not set an alarm.”

“What dumbass would throw a party on a weekday?”

“Not you,” you retort sweetly, dramatically batting your eyelashes, “You’re not a dumbass.”

“Fuck you,” he mumbles.

“Already?” you wink lazily, “Don’t men have a refractory period or something?”

“I only came once last night,” he nearly pouts, hiding his expression in your sunwarmed hair.

“Right,” you chuckle, tender memories of being carefully wiped clean, and then snuggling into him, promptly passing out, floating contentedly through your vision, “You’re amazing.”

“Amazing enough to do this again?” his voice hardens, somehow moving further from you even as his body doesn’t move.

“Didn’t I already ask you that?” you reply gently.

“Yeah.”

Nose crinkling, you poke at his cheek, humming confidently, “I may not have had a devastating crush on you, but I obviously I like you, idiot.”

“Yeeeah,” he sighs.

“So we’re doing this again,” you remark plainly.

“Good,” he finally grins.

“Good,” you grin.

“Ugh,” he scowls, pretending to push you away, only to quickly pull you back into his embrace, pulse thrumming at the momentary distance.

“You weren’t saying that earlier,” you singsong, lightly tucking a longer strand of his hair behind his ear, cooing at its immediate redness, “You think Obanai heard us?”

“Fuck,” Sanemi grimaces, suddenly dreading his next conversation with his best friend.

“Poor guy,” you laugh, tone laced with mock sympathy, “Probably regrets inviting me.”

Shrugging, Sanemi pecks your forehead, voice gravelly as he mutters, “Nah, fuck him.”

[alexusonfire]

Tolerance (but barely)

Larissa Weems x Captain Phasma

Smutember Prompt: Formal Wear

A/n: @daydream-cement and I are doing a mini Smutember! We will be posting fics every Saturday of this month, each with a different prompt and Gwen character (or two 😉). This fic was inspired by Daydream and @bri-sonat's Road Trip fic (who doesn't love a good hate fuck?), and dedicated to my dear sweet @yourlocaldisneyvillain for a fic swap 🧡 They/them pronouns for Phasma. Phasma is Mean™️, smut, strap, packing, Larissa receiving.

You can find Daydream's fic here!

The party thrummed around Larissa, the clinking of glasses and jumbled murmur of several conversations at once making her wince. She was never one for large gatherings, especially when she knew so few people; even her "date" for the evening had been so caught up in socializing she hadn't seen them in more than an hour.

"What a waste of a dress" she thought to herself, taking a moment to mourn the swishy silvery fabric draped across her curves. Turning back towards the bar, she placed down the empty wine glass (the third of the night), and made to order another when a smooth voice sounded behind her.

"They're getting rather lazy with the guest lists I see."

Larissa froze momentarily, instantly recognizing the arrogant tone and wishing she were anywhere but here.

"I don't have the energy for you this evening." Larissa said, her voice clipped and curt.

"Really? I would have thought a woman with your stamina-"

"Careful Captain," Larissa cut in, ever aware of prying ears around them; she turned to glare at the woman behind her, trying to ignore the swoop low in her belly when she met Phasma's piercing gaze, "that almost sounded like the start of compliment."

Phasma chuckled and clunked down their own glass, currently half-filled with a smooth amber liquid that would surely make Larissa's insides churn. Larissa gave them a quick once-over, ruefully noting that Phasma had actually managed to look well put together this evening; black dress pants, matching button up, and slicked back hair had the Captain looking rather... handsome, the only word Larissa could think of. Lost momemtarily in her thoughts, she hardly noticed Phasma moving to crowd her against the bar, effectively pinning her to it so they could whisper in her ear.

"Only you would find being able to fuck like a whore a compliment."

Larissa hated how the close proximity and low tone made her body feel, particularly the tingling in her lower abdomen. She shoved Phasma off her and sneered, the brief baring of her teeth only spurring them on. They chuckled again, the brief, arrogant sound making Larissa burn with rage.

"You're disgusting. Now if you'll excuse me I'd like to keep some civilized company."

Larissa huffed and stormed off, ignoring the chesire grin Phasma had plastered all over their face. She stomped outside, the dark alleyway an instant reprieve from the loud chatter and stuffy air. Peeking around to make sure she was alone, she slipped her hand into her small clutch and pulled out a single cigarette, lighting and inhaling in the same breath. It was a habit she'd picked up in college, and even then only in moments of stress. The clanging of the door behind her caused her to tense and clutch the cigarette tighter, and she nearly groaned out loud when she saw who it was.

"You're worse than a dog, Captain. Next time do I need to tell you to sit and stay?"

Something flashed in Phasma's eyes, and Larissa didn't miss the way their hands flexed in their pockets. They stopped just in front of her, watching her intently as she smothered the cigarette beneath her pointed shoe. There was a moment of silence, Phasma seeming to consider their words before speaking.

"The only dog in this alleyway is the bitch in heat standing in front of me."

The slap sounded off the pavement, and before Larissa could process what she'd done, she was pinned to the brick, Phasma growling in her ear.

"You really shouldn't have done that."

Larissa attempted to wiggle out, her breathing quickening when she realized she could barely move an inch.

"And what are you going to do about it?" she taunted, setting her shoulders back. Phasma didn't answer, but instead simply pulled back for a moment to spin Larissa to face the wall; after effectively pinning her once more, their fingers circled around her wrists, Phasma pushed their hips into Larissa's, the bulge between their legs making Larissa gasp and moan. Phasma smirked; she could be so... easy sometimes.

"What would you like me to do about it? I'm all ears princess."

Larissa hated that nickname, so snarky and condescending. Her fists clenched as she spat out her response, ignoring how her hips pushed back into Phasma's seemingly of their own accord.

"You can do what you do best and stick that fake little cock of yours in anything with a pulse."

For a brief moment, Phasma let go of one of Larissa's wrists and brought two fingers to her neck; Larissa didn't even have to look to know that fucking chesire grin was back on their face.

"With pleasure."

Phasma wasted no time in bringing their free hand down between Larissa's legs, delighted to find her sex bare and already soaked. Some comment lingered on the tip of their tongue, but the small, clamped up moan Larissa let out diverted their attention.

"Ah ah, you know the rules. I want to hear you. I want the whole fucking block to hear you."

Hate hate hate. Hated their stupid grin and arrogant attitude and ridiculous swagger they always put on, hated everything about them-

Especially how good their fingers felt at the moment. Hated it. Loathed it.

Craved it.

Larissa appeased them, too far gone at this point to object as they toyed with her cunt. Phasma took their sweet time, teasing around her clit and sliding their fingers in her painfully slow, barely hitting any of the sweet spots. Larissa grunt and shifted, her one leg pushed forward to grant more access.

"Didn't think you'd be all talk this evening Captain. Have we grown shy of our abilities?"

It came out breathier than she would have liked, but she got the reaction she was looking for when Phasma snarled behind her and quickly unzipped their trousers. She'd barely been given a moments notice before they sheathed the strap fully inside her, only giving her a few seconds to adjust to the stretch before pounding into her. Her moans and cries echoed through the dark alley, the lazy circles Phasma was drawing around her clit making her reach her peak quicker than she would have liked.

"I'm- I'm going to-"

Phasma let go of Larissa's other wrist and brought it down to smack across her thigh, the sudden sting making her squeal in surprise.

"And what do you say, princess?" Phasma panted, their own voice betraying how close they were themselves. Larissa bared her teeth once more as she ground out a barely legible "please", and moments later came with a sharp cry. Phasma pumped into her a few more times before they shuddered, the pressure of the strap against their clit stimulating them just enough for their own release.

Larissa came two more times before Phasma let up, her thighs and calves cramping in her heels. Her knees wobbled dangerously as she straightened up, quickly righting her dress and hair as Phasma tucked the strap back into their trousers.

"You look a mess." Was all Phasma said before sauntering back inside, leaving Larissa to glower at them as they walked away. She waitied until the door was securely shut behind them before collapsing back against the wall, attempting to catch her breath and steady herself.

She cringed as she felt a little trickle down her inner thigh.

Hate.

Hate.

Hate.

--

@weemssapphic @h-doodles @rosieathena @pro-weems-places @renravens @ness029 @oddball21 @saturnnnnl

[vagabond-umlaut]

Honey & Maple Syrup

Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader; Arranged Marriage; Childhood Friendship To Complicated Feelings™️; Flangst; Explicit Smut [P-In-V; Switch!Gojo]; Angst With A Happy Ending; Porn With Feelings™️; Brief Mentions Of Reader Being Mildly Injured In A Mission. This is 18+ Content -> Minors & Ageless Blogs Please DNI!!!

Oneshot From Series: One Day, Three Autumns [Can Be Treated As A Stand-Alone]

Satoru Is So Emotional While Making Love To His Wife. Said WIfe Too Gets Really Soft Very Quickly For Her Husband— Albeit She Knows To Mask Her Emotions Behind Her Incredibly Dumb & Mildly Yandere-ish Jokes. She's Such A Tsundere, ISTG!! [Gojo Has No Problem With That Aspect Of The Reader, Though. Sweet For The Reader, IG...]

Uh-huh, sex with Gojo sure is something else but do you know what's even more of a something else?

Sex with Gojo on the floor of your living room at three in the night— those clothes of yours scattered over the tiny distance from the front door while your husband pounds into you in a frantic rush, tears filled in his blue eyes as his lips slot against yours messily– the moisture on his long lashes dripping onto your wet warm cheeks.

The mission you returned from wasn't too difficult; the blood on your clothes weren't much of yours either. Yet... all it takes this man is one look at you from head to toe, before his sleepy gaze switches into an extremely worried gaze and he pulls you into the safety of your home and into the safety of his arms, then tilting your chin up and claiming your lips in a fiery needy kiss—

Though nowhere as needy as the moan he lets out now, on your legs tightening round his waist and driving his shaft even deeper into the trembling, throbbing, leaking mess you've become down there.

"Nngh, sweetness– p-please!" he whimpers into your ear, sharp nose nuzzling into your temple, as he delivers yet another powerful thrust, drawing a garbled version of his name from your mouth– making the muscles in your body relax yet tense, ache yet tinge in pleasure– "It's so, so tight, fuckk-" he drawls out, rolling his hips against yours. Eyes squeezing tight shut. Lifting his head from beside you, his lips part in yet another throaty moan. "'s sooo good- yea, perfect f'me– aren't ya made for me, my love?"

"Am I?" You inquire softly, relishing in the way he reaches you deep in your walls, filling the hollow; though you keep your eyes wide open to drink in the ethereal glow your man is radiating, in the dim moonlight through the curtains. "I'm makin' you cry— ah, 'Toru—" your guilt gets washed away in a wave of unadulterated pleasure– Gojo's fingers flex around yours on one side of your head, whilst his free hand brushes a tear rolling down your cheek into the cold marble below.

In reverent affection. In adoration, your pleasure-hazy mind whispers.

Two plush lips press into yours before retreating an inch away. "You're perfect, sweetness," Gojo says, slowing his motions a little– an action which makes you move to buck your hips upward, only to be stopped by a large palm covering your waist and holding it in place, "And don't feel guilty for anything– you're too good for me, too precious for me– 'm always scared I might lose you. I... don't want anyone– anything to take you too away from me— you–" his voice assumes a rare tremble; he resumes, moving his hand from your hip to cradle your cheek.

"You do understand that, sweetness— don't you?"

Some other time and you suppose you'll be busy wondering, how on earth this man has that short his recovery time to be blubbering one minute then reassuring you the next— now is no such time, however.

Fresh tears curtaining the steely determination and tender affections in those azure pools of power. Fingers flexing yet again, as if to grasp and engrave the feeling of your fingers intertwined with them forever. Calloused palm caressing your cheeks, gentler than a rose petal.

Your husband— The One And Only Honored One— looking at you as if the only deity he deems is worth believing in is right in front of him, under him— Every strand of his soul worshipping every atom of your being, as if that is the only means he might achieve enlightenment—

You don't know how to deal with the storm of emotions your sudden realizations wreak through your body [one disadvantage of marrying your childhood best friend is how easily you can read him, during an emotionally charged moment, further increasing the weight on your emotions-weary self...]— You do know how to deal with the storm of emotions wreaking havoc in your husband, though. [Count this as an advantage of marrying your childhood best friend— you take quite a great deal of pride in knowing none can read Gojo the way you do.]–

Pulling him down, until his well-defined chest collides with the soft flesh of your breasts, you take advantage of the sudden loss of grip he has on you to flip him onto his back — and lean down, your nose bumping into his and your lips separated in small huffs, being mere yet too much an inch away from his, open in a small shocked circle.

Notwithstanding the dull ache in your calf nor the stinging pain at the apex of your thighs the abrupt change in position has brought along– you smile.

Too much drunk on the emotion you know one must never allow their ridiculous hearts to experience in your line of work; though, you think you can be a hypocrite for tonight– the first and only time in your life.

You press a swift kiss to the corner of his lips. "I'm here, 'Toru and I'll be here, worrying you and annoying you to your wits' ends, till death does us apart– maybe after then too, I'm going to haunt you and the next woman you marry, till she runs away and you're left all alone for me to monopolize again— Heh, sounds like one hell of an antidote to your insanely stupid worries– doesn't it, Satoru?" you ask with a grin.

A huff of a laugh sounds from the addressed man. Raising yourself a little, you narrow your eyes, ready with biting retorts— only to pause on catching the upwards curve slowly forming on his lips— so small yet so blinding in quality, as it grows and stretches, bringing out the adorable dimples in his cheeks, eclipsing the fear and concern in his features by its priceless beauty, you know no fake smile can possess— no matter how bright, how wide, how well-practised they are.

Heart thundering within your chest, you brush away a tear clinging to his eyelashes with a thumb, moving to plant your lips to his face once more.

Ah, well— you tell yourself with a happy little sigh— perhaps, you can be a hypocrite for a bit longer than tonight.

I do not own the characters used. Divider is by @cafekitsune. Please do not plagiarize or translate or repost this. Hope you enjoyed reading this! 😊

Please interact with This Post to be added to the series taglist! ❤️

Masterlist

Hope y'all won't mind me tagging you here: @avatarofstars, @shotorus, @4sat0ruu, @ancient-vivarium, @heresan, @poe-daydreams, @konigbabe, @yuujispinkhair, @nanamikentoseyebags [PLS LET ME KNOW IF U WOULD LIKE TO BE REMOVED FROM THE TAGLIST. I WON'T MIND!! PROMISE!! TY FOR YOUR SUPPORT!! 🥰🥰]

[daisies-daydreams]

I really love your head cannons and stories of the guys from COD! Would it be possible to get Task Force+König x reader, on how they would go about flirting/courting us for the first time? With your preference on if reader is a medic, civilian, or soldier c:

Image/Header Source: Pexels

Pairing: 141/König x F!Reader Category: Fluff (w/ some angst) Warnings: Descriptions of Trust Issues, Mentions of Sex (nothing explicit) Word Count: 2.2k+

 A/N: Hi! Thank you so much for your sweet request. The reader's occupation varies between each man since I loved all three ideas of civilian/medic/soldier reader. I hope you enjoy! 🫶

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Rizz Master™️ (sorry not sorry)

He seems like a player, but he’s always, always respectful.

Johnny’s usually the one who initiates things. He’s also more of a playful flirt to the point that most people don’t take him seriously.

And I’m talking a habitual, relentless flirt. It’s just his personality and he does it sometimes without meaning to. (He accidentally lead a lot of people on without even realizing it).

But when he wants to get serious, he goes all in (this man can work a whole room if he wanted to I swear).

He met you when you started working as a bartender at a pub he frequented.

Both of you shared banter each time he’d come in (usually with a pretty little thing on his arm who’d question why he even brought them). It became so infamous that other frequent patrons would roll their eyes or shake their heads whenever he’d stop by for a drink.

He left his number on a napkin one time, which lead to the two of you starting to text (the banter continues).

I think his ultimately playful flirting is him testing the waters for some people to see if the chemistry works between the two of you before he gets serious.

You smiled and tossed the rag over your shoulder as one of the frequents to the pub, Johnny, strolled up the counter.

"Here comes trouble," one of the other patrons muttered before downing his drink.

“The usual for tonight, MacTavish?” you asked. He nodded as he gave you a smile, his sapphire eyes sparkling beneath the dim lighting of the pub.

“You know me well, my dear,” he said as he slid onto one of the bar stools. You returned his grin as you filled up a pint for him. You glanced over his shoulder, your cheeks heating up a little as you saw his muscular arms flex a little beneath black tank top. You shook your head and cleared your throat before handing him his drink.

“Thank you, Dolly,” he winked before taking a sip. You nodded before glancing around.

“No bird with you tonight, Johnny?” you asked with a raised brow as you dried one of the glasses. The man chuckled and shook his head.

“Nah…don’t need one when I have a perfect Bonnie right in front of me,” he suddenly uttered. You huffed out some laughter.

“Good one, Johnny,” you snickered as you put the glass away. Your face fell a bit when you turned and saw him wearing a more serious expression. He leaned forward a bit.

“How’s about I take ye out to dinner this weekend?” he asked with a warm smile.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Side note: Sam Roukin (Ghost’s VA) said that Ghost doesn’t date…so of course I have to incorporate it into this!

To say Simon has a lot of trust issues would be an understatement.

He definitely lingers in the pining stage for longer than most.

Flirting for sex is relatively easy for him, since he knows there's no real emotional attachment. It's quick and simple with little threat to emotional security.

Of course, that all crumbled when he met you, a new recruit to 141.

He swore his heart stopped when you walked into the room, your face littered with a few scars yet still resoundingly beautiful.

The way he felt scared him. Sure, he’s felt this kind of attraction before…but the unknowns of what life would look like with the two of you being involved made his heart sink and flutter all at once.

Simon would act professional at first, trying his best to not get too emotionally invested (“The two of us could die at any time, why even bother?” he’d tell himself).

He’d go all quiet when you started flirting with him, starting my with small jokes and quips until eventually he relented and joined in.

The more the two of you talked, the more relaxed he became. He’s still rather reserved when it comes to flirting (aside from the frequent dad jokes), but his feelings for you are so evident that not even his skull balaclava can hide it.

(He gets some advice from Johnny, wink wink).

You were making your bed in your quarters when you heard a knock on your door. You paused your music before walking over and turning the knob. You blinked when you saw Ghost standing in front of you with his hands behind his back, his dark eyes peering at you through his skull balaclava.

“What’s up, Lt?” you asked. He shuffled in place before clearing his throat.

“Well, I was just out for a walk and…got you these,” his voice drops a few octaves as he pulls his hands out from behind his back. The tips of your ears grew warm as he held a small bouquet of flowers out to you. “Simon Riley…are you asking me out on a date?�� you asked as you crossed your arms. More chuckling was heard, causing the lieutenant to shoot a glare down the hall. He “coughed” into his hand.

“Yeah, you could say that,” he said, the stems of the flowers ready to snap in his deadly grip. You chuckled as you took the flowers before reaching up on your tiptoes. His eyes widened as you pressed a small peck to the side of his mask.

"I'd love to," you grinned. John Price

I’d say flirting with him looks more like two people having a conversation.

John’s had a few relationships in the past, though they’ve always fallen off due to his dedication to work.

Each one has left him more cynical than the last, his hope for finding someone who’d stay by his side dwindling little by little until he gave up completely.

And then, when he was out grocery shopping, he happened to come across a gorgeous cashier.

He gave you a warm smile as the two of you had some small talk, exchanging subtle glances as you checked out his items.

John noticed the lack of a wedding ring on your finger, though he quickly brushed the detail away as he thank you for your time and went on his way.

He hasn’t stopped thinking about you since then and would make “emergency” stops at the store on the days you would work. He didn’t care if he had to wait in line, he just wanted to see you again...

Your eyes lit up as John came up to you, giving you his typical, warm smile.

"Evenin' Miss (Y/N)," he said as he placed a small pack of toilet paper, bread, and eggs placed on the conveyor belt.

"Good to see you again, John," you smiled as you checked out the items. You noticed him shifting side to side, his eyes glancing up and down as you bagged his items.

"You gonna watch the game tonight?" you asked him. He nodded.

"Yeah," he replied, his body stiffening a little as he scratched his beard. You smiled as you rang him up.

“What about you, hun?" he asked. The tips of your ears burned as your throat tightened at the nickname. John’s eyes were wide as dinner plates as his lips fell into a straight line. He cleared his throat as he took the bag from you.

“Thank you,” he smiled.

"Of course. Have a good night," you grinned. John nodded, his feet still planted to the floor as he cleared his throat.

“When does your shift end?” he suddenly asked. The customer behind him scoffed and tapped their foot. You blinked before a sheepish smile crossed your face.

“In about fifteen minutes,” you replied. “Why?” you asked before biting your lip. John’s face softened as he grinned.

“Care to join me for a quick drink afterwards?” he asked. You parted your lips as the customer crossed their arms. You smiled.

“Meet me outside the doors in a bit,” you whispered. The hardened shell around his heart began to crack.

“Will do, love,” he replied with a warm smile.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

I can see him being a playful flirt as well, though he’s still a bit more reserved.

Like he knows how to pick up women and has had a few flings here and there, though nothing too serious.

Relationships honestly weren't at the forefront of his mind...until you were assigned as the medic for 141 (nicknamed Nightingale, though he’d always call you “Nighty”).

He still remembers the first time you patched him up after a mission where he nearly bit the dust. His feelings for you have only grown since then.

Absolutely smitten, that lad is. (Sometimes he’d even pretend to feel sick just so he could be around you!).

Kyle’s noticeably a lot more excitable and talkative with you compared to the rest of the team. He honestly can’t hide how he feels about you...and it’s adorable.

"Good to see you again, Garrick," you grinned as you opened the door to your office. Kyle reflected your smile before stepping inside and taking off his cap. You closed the door behind him as he sat on the examination table across from you. "So, what brings you in today?" you asked as you clicked your pen. Kyle rubbed the back of his head.

"I've been feeling kind of feverish for the past few days," he said. You glanced up and pursed your lips.

"That so?" you asked as you pulled out a thermometer. He nodded as he leaned his hands against the edge of the table. "Funny, you said the same thing last week," you added as you stuck the instrument against his forehead. His eyes widened as he parted his lips.

"Well, it's a very persistent one," he shrugged. You raised a brow as you looked at his temperature.

"Mhm," you clicked your tongue. "You know if you wanted to ask me out, you didn't have to be on death's doorstep," you giggled. Kyle's breath audibly hitched as you rested your hands on your hips.

"Alright, you've got me," he sighed. You chuckled and shook your head as you put the thermometer away.

"So...are you free this Friday ?" he asked.

König

I see him being the most reserved out of all of these men.

Don’t get me wrong, he knows how to talk to women, it’s just that his quiet nature/intimidating stature tends to scare people off.

So when you came with him on a KorTac mission, he was instantly shocked when you came up and started talking to him.

Did a little head shake/double take before engaging in the conversation.

You know how onions have layers? So does König. He’s rather blunt but still polite while you’re getting acquainted, but he slowly starts to soften his voice a little the more you talk.

Takes a while to peel back the layers one by one, but (like Ghost) the more you get to know him, the more comfortable he becomes around you.

I can see him giving gifts as his love language. Since he doesn’t prefer to talk that much, he’ll leave small hand-written cards if you were on base or bring you candy if he went on a separate mission.

I just picture him being like a big cat: leaves small gifts, quiet yet also affectionate.

All in all it takes a while before he finally asks you out, but when he does, he makes it count.

“Where are you taking me, Colonel?” you asked as you walked through the bustling streets of the city. You were on a mission in König’s home country, making him eager to take you to a “pit stop” on your way to the safe house.

“You’ll see soon enough, Hase,” he replied [Bunny]. He wasn’t wearing his mask, his ginger hair blowing in the wind as he looked forward. The scar across the bridge of his nose wrinkled as he sniffed the air. You sniffed as well, the smell of fresh chocolate filling your nose. Your eyes widened as you approached a shop nearby. The corners of König’s icy blue eyes crinkled as he held the door open for you, a gust of warm, sweet air falling over you.

“After you,” he motioned inside. You beamed up at him before stepping inside, your eyes widening at the sight of rows and rows of chocolate.

“Guten tag!” one of the workers, a young brunette woman, chirped behind the counter [Good afternoon!]. Their expression shifted a little as König stepped up behind you. He said something in German, prompting her to scurry and grab a box. You spun around a few times, causing a deep chuckle to rise from his chest.

“I know you said you enjoyed the chocolates I always bring you…so I figured why not stop at one of the best in the world?” he said. He gasped when you wrapped your arms around his torso, your face nuzzling into his side.

“Thank you,” you smiled. König nodded before patting your side, his mind and heart overwhelmed with the sudden affection. The worker returned with a box full of chocolate before she gave a small “aww”.

“So ein süßes Paar!” she beamed [Such a sweet couple!]. König cleared his throat as you pulled back.

“What did she say?” you asked. He remained stiff as he paid for the sweets and handed you the box.

“Nothing important,” he replied…though deep inside, he hoped that someday it would be true.

————

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Taglist: @maybethatfanfictionwriter @depressesoespressorat @yuhhtricki999

[slutouttanowhere]

Daddy’s Home

Paring: Randy Orton x Mavis Pete™️

Warning: Unprotected sex, squirting, oral sex, vulgar language, use of the phrases “Daddy,” and “Cunt.” Hand jobs, and public bus sex. Not edited, just hopped on my laptop and hit go.

a/n: I started this at 12am, there’s a part of this fic that is actually supposed to be cannon for an ongoing story, Million Dollar Baby(snippet). Though I haven’t quite gotten there yet, this scene kept nagging me so here I am being a “Spotlight Junkie.” Then somehow it magically turned into smut, and this is only the second time I wrote smut for this fandom ever. lol I personally don’t see much wrestling smut, so I have zero idea if y’all will care or like that part. Anywho, I hope y’all enjoy, and of course reblog, and follow me. Take a look at my pinned post for more.

Randy had been out of recovery for what felt like forever, I lost count after the second month in; at first we talked over the phone almost everyday while he was home. As time went on, I got more busy with my new story like with Rhea, and that’s what slowed our communication. At a certain point I just got used to not having Randy on the road with us, so when he popped back up during Monday Night Raw I was genuinely flabbergasted.

I was standing in the middle of the ring with Rhea, “you call yourself Thee Hottest WWE superstar walking—

“And is.” I said cutting her off, that got a reaction from the crowd, Rhea grimaced. The grin of my face grew as the crowd began to chant ‘LETS GO HOTTIE,’ Dominick stood by Rhea’s side insuring her that she’s the best.

“Last I recall, every time you and I are in the ring, I eat you up every single time. Just admit it, you can’t handle the heat, Mami.” She parted her lips to speak, but I didn’t give her the chance. I shoved her roughly causing her to stumble, then flexed my arms, and poked her tongue out at her. She stared at me in disbelief, Dom tried to hold her back as she took a step forward.

“Don’t start acting beside yourself now sweetheart, Randy’s not here!” She shouted, her eyelids wide open, and her lips pulled back into a grin, though she looked more like a beast showing me her teeth. Just then a song I didn’t expect to hear for another few months blasted through the arena. ‘I HEAR VOICES IN MY HEAD, THEY COUNCIL ME THEY UNDERSTAND, THEY TALK TO ME.’

There he was, in all his glory, slowly making his way down the ramp. My heart pounded in my chest, my hands shaky, this was the jumpscare of my life, and I’ve had some close calls. Rhea protectively pushed Dom behind her, and I couldn't help but let out a snort. The music stops, and the roar of the fans pour into my ears. Every single person in their arena was on their feet, he climbed between the ropes, and I bit my lip trying to contain myself till he was done with his bit. He climbed to the middle turnbuckle, we all watched in amazement as he raised up, and received the crowd. They went into a frenzy, my ears were ringing, and caused everything to sound high pitched.

When he finally turned to address us, I couldn’t hold myself back, I jumped into his arms. I wrapped my arms around his waist, I know it’s been a while since I held him, but he definitely felt bigger. “Whoa.” I pulled back, a large grin spread across his lips, his eyes already looking down at me. He wrapped an arm around my waist keeping me close, this is really the first time we’ve been seen together on tv in mounts, but he’s never touched me like that. Usually it’s a high-five or a fist bump, maybe a Pat on the head when he’s in a silly mood. There had been a lot of roomers we were together online, but Hunter advised that we reveal it when we felt comfortable. I guess Randy was choosing now.

“I’m sorry what was that you were saying Rhea?” Randy asked, he held his hand up to his ear as if that would help amplify the volume.

“No one is worried about you Randy, you’re light work for The Judgement Day.” She quipped, the crowd had a mixed reaction of booing and chanting, ‘MAMI,’ but the majority stood behind her.

“Light work? Surly not at two hundred and seventy five pounds.” He teased, some people from the crowd Woolf whistled, and cat called him, then he continued. “Ya know, I’ve been hearing a lot about you, I gotta say I’m not that impressed.” Randy shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, Rhea was fuming at his words, because how dare he insult her. Rhea Ripley, The Eradicator. Mami this, Mami that, well guess what? Daddy's back.” He grinned, his hand squeezed my side, my mind flashing back to a while ago when I let it slip one night that I called him that in my head.

“…You call me what?” He paused his movements, we were cuddled in bed one night, his lips pressing kisses from my cheek down my neck, and his hands squeezing my thighs.

“Don't make me repeat it.” I begged, my face heating up feeling bashful, I didn't think he had heard me, but I should have known better. He flipped us over so that I was underneath him, both my arms above my head, his hand held my wrist together, and my legs spread to make room for him.

“Say it, or I’ll just have to drag it out of you.” He warned, his lips caressing my ear, my breath hitched in my throat. I swallowed, the fluttering in the pit of my stomach, and down between my thighs causing my hips to buck.

“Daddy.” I whispered, in a small way I regretted it because I knew he’d never let it go.

The crowd began to chant, ‘WHOS YOUR DADDY!’ To which Randy thoroughly enjoyed, he peered down at me, but my eyes were on Rhea’s women's championship belt. The hunger I felt to be on top once again was insatiable, I wanted the spotlight, and then some. “Tell your boy Damian, that I’ve got my eyes on him, I think I owe him a few receipts.” Randy took me by the hand, and began to walk us out the ring.

“Look at you, backing out again like you always do when Randy is around.” Rhea teased, that struck a nerve, she knew how much the implications of me using randy as a shield got under my skin. I whipped back around, snatching the mic from his hands, my breathing heavy, and my lips turned downward into a deep frown.

“The one thing you need to be worrying about is from where youre gonna take this RKO. Anytime, anyplace, out of nowhere.” I growled, Rhea pushed Dom aside, he pleaded with her to not get egged into a fight with me right now, but I was hoping she wouldn't listen. She took a few steps forward so I met her half way, we almost met eye to eye, and she was so close our noses touched.

I could see Randy in my peripheral; he gently put an arm on my shoulder. At first I took a step back, but then she kissed at me. “Good girl.” She teased, then I shoved her roughly into the ropes, she bounced off them. I caught her by the head, and drove her head first into the mat. I sat up to see the wide eyed, opened mouth, look of shock on Randy’s face. I couldn't help but giggle, he had been teaching it to me a while ago, before his injury of course, but it wasn't till now that I was able to whip it out. I moved onto a sitting position on my knees, Randy’s hand placed on my head like a pet, the crowd loved it. Dom pulled Rhea out the ring, and as they descended I kissed back at Rhea mocking her. Slowly I rose back up to my feet, a rush of excitement hit me, I jumped up into Randy’s arms, and wrapped my legs around his waist. I kissed him on the cheek, before dropping back down to my feet. When we finally got to the back, we exchanged small talk with a few of the officials, and such. Randy and Hunter got into a bit of a conversation, so I excused myself to go change.

I had no idea where Randy could be, and I didnt wanna spend countless hours looking for me. I pulled my phone out calling him on the phone, as I made my way out the arena, after a few rings, he picked up. “Where are you?” He asked, there were some voices in his background, so maybe he was still in the building.

“Making my way out, I’m thinking about getting dinner.” I threw a smile to a few people that passed me by, I rounded a corner into an empty halfway so I could have some sort of privacy. I sat my bags down for a moment, then leaned my back against the brick wall.

“If you carpooled, we can just go out, I’d actually prefer that.” He chuckled lightly, it sounded as if he had just exited the arena by the way his atmosphere became quieter. My heart fluttered, it’s been a while since it was just me, and him. I was already texting Bianca letting her know that I would be hitching rides with Randy again.

“Of course, I still got the key.” I jiggle the second set of keys to his bus that he gave me when we first started dating. I got a flat tire once when I was on my way to the next town, lucky me it happens late at night, some guy had to help me, and Randy flipped. That was the last time I traveled solo.

“Well I’m already on the bus, so I’ll let you in.” He chuckled, I could hear the smile spreading across his lips, I picked up my bags, and headed towards the back doors. It’s been forever since I last saw him, and all I wanted was to eat, and cuddle afterwards.

“Kay, see ya in a bit.” I said, the smile on my face spreading wider, I hung up the phone, and pushed through the arena doors that lead to the back parking area which was reserved for talent. The sun was beginning to set causing the sky to have a pinkish hue, I rounded the corner to a sectioned off area for the bus’, and there Randy was. He was leaning against the door, his lips grew into a large grin as I came into sight, the sun glasses on his face hid his eyes, but I didn't care. Running up to him, I wrapped my arms around his neck, and our lips crashed together.

His hands immediately grabbed onto my hips, and pulled me in closer. I didn't hold back the moan that came from me, when we reluctantly separated, I quickly looked around to see if anyone would have caught us. I know everyone knows we’re together but I do try to be a little modest. “No ones been out here for a good while, don't worry, the only person that knows you’re a little slutty is me princess.” Randy joked, I slapped him across the chest, his laughter died down enough for me to speak.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were returning tonight?” I slapped his chest again, but he grabbed me by my wrist, then brought them behind my back.

“And ruin the surprise? No, no.” He whispered, he took his sunglasses off to reveal his icy blue eyes, and for a second a second they softened as he took in my facial features up close. As if he was committing it to memory. He lowered his head to the crook of my neck, inhaled my scent, and placed a kiss there. “You smell good.” He moaned into my skin, he placed more kisses, but the sound of the arena doors opening made me jump. Randy chucked, but reluctantly pried himself off of me.

“Can we just go inside please.” I begged taking a step back before he got any more ideas, he held his hand out, and took my bags. He opened the door for me, letting me first, the following behind. He put my bag away, but wasted no time grabbing me up. His hands trailed down my back to my butt, his large hands gripped me tightly as if I’d get away. While his tongue explored, and caressed the inside of my mouth, I worked on his jeans; our breathing was heavy, we sounded like two starved animals. For a moment he stepped back to pull his shirt off, and though I am used to seeing him shirtless, this new build of his was massive.

He grinned when he caught me gawking, “Bigger in person huh?” I couldn't help but giggle, I rolled my eyes, but pressed my lips to his broad chest. He now stood with only his jeans hanging off his hips, his adonis belt more defined than I remembered. My hands follow behind where my lips were. I just wanted to worship his body like this all the time, he was so gorgeous, he didn't need any help, but the added weight does something to me. The pulsing between my thighs, and the slickness caused me to moan out. “Fuck you’re too fucking much sometimes you know that?” Randy mumbled, he pulled off my white t-shirt over my head, then tossed it.

I kicked my furry slides off, then shimmed out of my leggings, “I missed you.” I whispered in between kisses, I sucked on his lip, then bit it gently. Rand growled in response, his hand smacking my ass roughly.

“Show me, how much did you miss daddy?” He grabbed me by the chin and tiled my head up towards him, he leaned down to give me one last kiss before letting me go. I pushed him back so that he was leaning against the counter, I kneeled down on one knee, then tugged at his jeans pulling them all the way down. He stepped out of them then kicked them to the side, my hand ghost over his already erect penis over his briefs, then I looked up at him. My hand squeezed him firmly, he let out a heavy sigh, my fingers hooked around the hem of his briefs, and slowly pulled them down. I wrapped my hand around his shaft, gripping him firmly, “Spit on it baby.” Randy instructed from above me, his voice already strained despite me barely doing anything to him yet.

I do as told of course, a long drop of spit lands right on his tip, I wrap my lips around him and sucked him off. “Like that?” I moaned out, I could feel my clit throb with need, but I wanted to focus on him first. I knew my orgasm would come easy for me, but Randy took a little bit of work. My other hand cupped his balls in my hand, while the other simultaneously caressed him.

His groan of pleasure morphed into a deep growl, “You fucking know how I like it, just like that baby girl. Ugh, fuck yes. I missed those pretty pouty lips.” I took him in as far, and as deep into my mouth as I could, then pulled back to his tip sucking on it. My tongue swirled around his tip then down his shaft, and back up. He held me by the chin with one hand, and with the other he held onto the back of my head holding me in place.

“Just the tip baby —ah, fuck yes just like that. No hands, just your mouth.” Randy directed me, he adjusted his hips, and carefully thrusted his hips. My eyes stayed on his face, his head fell back, and his mouth opened. Just when I could feel his dick start to twitch a little, he pulled away, and held himself in his own hand. We both took a second to catch our breaths, before he pulled me up to him, and began unhooking my bra, and tossing it to the side. My heart pounded in excitement, his hands came around my waist, now Randy dropped to his knees before.

His mouth latched on to my nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth as if he was trying to taste my soul through my areolas, the intense suction caused a slight sting. “Ow, fuck.” The sensation bottled right to my pussy, causing it to throb once again with desire, I contemplated beating his ass for subjecting me to toys while he was away. As good as it was, nothing beat the real thing. He let my nipple go with a pop, then began working on the other one with the same amount of suckage. His hand slipped into my panties, and slid over my clit, I nearly jumped out of my skin from the sensation. “Oh —ah.” I cried out, my knees trimble causing me to reach out, and hold on to Randy’s large shoulders.

He chuckled deeply, then pressed a kiss between the valley of my breast, “I know sweetheart I know, that cunts have been waiting for me, and now that I’m here you just can't wait can you?” His finger teased me a little more, I would beg him to finish me if I had to, on hands, and knees if I had to. He pulled my painted down similarly to how I did his own underwear, “Oh my fucking goodness, you’re so fucking sexy, come over here. I wanna see that beautiful face when you come in my mouth.” He guided me over to the couch in front of us, I almost forgot he was completely naked in my haze, until he stood over me for a moment. I bit my lip just watching how his dick swings with his movements, it was mouth watering to say the least. He kneeled down on both knees before me, my legs spread wide for him, the of my labia parting could be heard crystal clear between the two of us. Randy looked hypnotized as he stared down at me, I was at a loss for words myself, he looked like he was going to devour me, and there wasn't absolutely nothing I could do about it.

“You like how pretty my pussy is Daddy?” I reached down, and spread myself wider so he could see the deepest part of me. He answered my question non verbally, his lips latched on to me sucking my swollen clit up into his mouth gently. He held onto my thighs with both his hands, his whole face stuffed between my thighs as he lapped up my wetness like a thirsty heathen. Waves of pleasure rippled through me, over, and over till my body decided I couldn't take it anymore. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. Right there, right there, please don't stop.” I begged, my hands held onto the back of his head keeping him in place as he continued to slurp me up. He slid a finger into me, then another, as if the constant clitoral stimulation wasn't enough to nearly kill me. He worked his fingers, in and out of me at a steady rhythm that my body just couldn't keep up with, soon my moans, and shouts over took the wet sloppy noises as I came undone in his hands, and mouth. My body tensed up as my thighs clenched around Randy’s head, but his grip was strong enough to pry them open again.

“I want you on top of me, right now, right fucking now.” He breathed out, he took me by the hips, and slightly readjusted me so that I was leaning on my side. I was in full display for him, spread wide open, with nowhere to hide, for his eyes to feast on as he took me in.

“Daddy please.” I begged, the ache was unbearable at this point, my body twisted, and my hips lifted trying to feel any kind of friction.

“I know baby, I missed being inside that pretty pussy so much. God your so fucking wet, look at how slippery you fucking are.” He slid the tip of himself over my needy cunt, and coated himself with my natural juices. Our moans mixed together, as he pushed into me achingly slowly, my breathing turned into panting.

“Randy —Ah! Oh fuck.” The pain of him stretching me to his size didn’t last long, and quickly turned into a pleasurable sensation.

“Fuck I’m never getting injured again.” He claimed, his strained moans mixed with forced laughter, but it quickly died down when I gripped my muscles around him. I was in no position to move, one leg he had pinned to the couch with his hand gripping my thigh, and the other leg was over his shoulder. It was the only thing between us; even though I’m not petite, Randy’s weight alone is enough to smother me.

His strokes were steady, yet impactful, each thrust brought me closer to the edge. His lips found their way to my ear, gently kissing me, and whispering naughty things to me. “That’s it, take this fucking cock princess, you’re not going anywhere till you come all over me isn’t that right?” He kissed me again then continued, “That tight cunt is all mine, my cute little pussy pocket. Hmm you liked being used by me don’t you?” The torque behind his thrust was unreal, I felt utterly breathless, I grabbed him by the back of his neck, and brought him in closer to me.

“This pussy is all yours, all yours, all yours.” I mumbled pathetically, our eyes locked in each other, but I could only hold my eyelids open for so long. My breath hitched in my throat when I felt his fingers press to my clit.

“That’s it right there, you’re so fucking close. Be a good girl, let it out baby, I wanna fucking hear you.” On his command I let out a cry that might have been heard across the arena if we weren’t parked so far away. My head fell back onto the couch, my eyes screwed shut, and Randy’s lips pressed to my neck. “Goddamn you feel so fucking good, fuck I love when you squeeze me just like that.” He panted, his own thrust becoming a bit sloppy, but the rhythm he used on my little bud didn’t change speed.

Even if I wanted to hold back, I couldn’t, a wave of heat ripped through me. I gripped his arms, my nails dug into his flesh, I wanted to rip something apart. “Oh god, Randy, I’m gonna—

I couldn’t even get the words out, before I knew it, I was squirting all over us, and his couch. “Ahh!” I shouted, he pulled away in enough time to let his own climax out as he hunched over me. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck me.” Very rarely do I hear him moan, and cry like that. His warm, sticky cum pooled on my stomach, and even as he was emptied there was still little droplets spilling out. He stroked himself for a moment longer trying desperately to catch his breath. I reached over to grab a tissue while his eyes were closed, quickly cleaned up the mess, and got into the floor where he sat on his knees. I replaced his hand with mine, then wrapped my lips around his tip, and proceeded to suck.

“Ugh, fuck, please.” He begged, and moaned softly. Rather it was for me to stop or keep going but I wasn’t sure. He didn’t push me away, so I continued my steady movements. He rested his hands on my head but didn’t guide me in any kind of way.

“I think you’ve got a little more in you, what do you think?” I asked with a lopsided grin, I lowered myself more, then sucked his balls into my mouth. My hand worked him in circular, up, and down motions.

Randy’s head was still back, eyes closed, and mouth hung open. “That feels so fucking good, just like that.” The sounds of slurping, and moaning filled the air. I squeezed him a bit tighter in my hand, his hips now rocking back and forth to match my rhythm. His breathing became heavier as his chest rises and falls, he’s gripping onto my hair which I hated. I regretted not putting my bonnet on beforehand.

I put my mouth over his tip just as he started to spill, I had no problem swallowing him down. “Oh fuck your so fucking good. Ohhhh, fuck!” His voice filled the room, my hands slid from his thighs up to his chest, I let go of his dick with a pop. My arms wrapped around his neck, he met me halfway in a deep slow kiss.

“I’m still hungry, but I don’t feel like going out.” I giggled, Randy stood to his feet, and brought me with him. He planted a soft kiss on my forehead, pulled on his briefs, and made his way over to the fridge.

“Lucky for you then, I’m always prepared.” He grinned, and pulled out two fruit salads and what looked to be meal prepped steak. Before I could dance my way over he stopped me holding out a hand. “Aht, shower first, then dinner.” He spoke sternly, my stomach grumbled, and I wanted to fight him on it. But the last hour flashed by my mind, I just rolled my eyes, “Fine.” Then I turned on my heels heading in the opposite direction.

“That’s a good girl, go on get ready, we’ll get moving in a little bit.” He called after me, I smiled to myself, contently, I was happy my baby was back on the road with me. I couldn’t wait to get back to work next week, but for now I’ll enjoy our alone time. I have a feeling we’re gonna spend the rest of the week wrapped up with each other.

[ivanttakethis]

Wow. Okay. I was not prepared for this. Hang on, let me try to string some coherent thoughts together…

For now I’m just gonna focus on this art instead of, you know, the rest of The Horrors™️ and their implications.

• Luka is fully awake/alert and engaged with the branding procedure.

- Sua was awake as well, but she wasn’t engaged. She was trying to push someone or something away from her in the snapshot we see with her hand up.

- In contrast, Luka isn’t resisting at all and it seems like he’s watching the procedure as it happens.

- I really wasn’t expecting anyone to be this lucid. Especially not Luka because he’s medically fragile.

• He’s also sitting up when he doesn’t really have to, considering the brand’s placement. It might’ve been easier to do the brand with Luka laying flat and not flexing his muscles or moving around.

• It’s interesting that he has to hold up his shirt out of the way of the laser. Heperu could’ve easily made him wear something shorter, or no shirt at all. But he chose something that would force Luka to actively participate, whether he wanted to or not. (Maybe I’m reading too much into this…)

• The placement of the brand on his hipbone probably hurt like hell. We know Luka is sickly, so chances are he has little to no muscle tone there. Just skin on bone. Laser on skin and bone would be painful.

- Assuming he wasn’t numbed in the area prior to the procedure, his pain tolerance must be pretty high to endure the whole thing.

- Maybe that’s why he didn’t look like he was in a whole lot of pain after Mizi beat him up during Round 5? Idk.

• I can’t deny that the composition of this art goes crazy. Like it’s a pretty cunty shot if you don’t examine the implications of what’s going on. It could just as easily be an album cover, even in-universe. Luka’s alien fans would probably love it.

- I wonder if this framing was intentional as well. Luka has a very curated image. Every part of him is primed to appear perfect. Maybe that “perfection”, that reflex or instinct to always be “camera ready”, bleeds over into unscripted moments like this. Does he know there are cameras on?

• Much like Luka himself, there’s something about the picture that is kind of unsettling, but you can’t look away…

You’re right where he wants you.

————————————————————

Couple extra things:

• My theory about Luka not being branded is debunked, unfortunately. But the lore we got is cool, so I’m fine with it.

• Also, @paperstarry wake up babes!! Luka does have a belly button!!

[batllethinker]

Million dollar baby | W.mf + N.rv

Pairing: chubby milf Nat x buff Wanda | fuck buddies carol x wanda

Wc: 5154

Summary: In a time of desperation, broke college student Wanda wanders into a high end bar which is where she meets a woman that could offer her more than she could ever imagine

Warnings: amab Wanda, amab Carol, unprotected sex, breeding, alot of manhandling, sex work (technically??), sub Nat, dom Wanda, switch Carol, thick thighs saves lives, age gap (W-21, N-37), daddy kink, anal, semi/public sex, degradation, football captain Carol™️, oral, doggy all around because I can't write anything else apparently, praise, degradation | 18+ mdni

Translations:

Папочка-daddy

котелок-kitten

малышка - babygirl

принцесса - princess

Being a full time student and working part time does nothing to put a dent in Wandas' massive college debt, which is also what she always complains to her friends about.

"You could always get a sugar mommy, there's no way that wouldn't work." Wanda rolled her eyes as Carol gave her a look and shrugged, while her other friends looked away, trying their best to avoid the situation.

The brunette leaned back in her seat as she contemplated Carols' suggestion, she realistically knew that it wasn't a bad proposition as several of her friends had gone and done exactly that. It was just that Wanda hated the idea of leaning on someone like that.

She startled when Carol suddenly grabbed both of her hands and stared into her eyes, and Wanda knew that she would try to convince her once again.

"There's this bar uptown, very famous for picking up those type of women, just give it a try!" The blonde smiled brightly at her as Wanda raised an eyebrow, slowly mulling over the information.

It took a mere minute until she decided that, yes, she would give this whole thing a try, what's the worst that could happen, right?

Wanda nodded to herself and Carol lit up even more when she figured out her answer, jumping triumphantly as the younger woman rolled her eyes playfully.

"You won't regret this!" The others sat with them snickered, clearly amused with the whole ordeal as Wanda sighed and rose from her seat, her mind focusing on the night she had before her.

"I'll tell you all about it tomorrow" Wanda shot Carol a pointed look, who pumped her fist in excited, shouting a hell yeah, which garnered her a few looks while the brunette snickered as she walked back to her dorm room.

Wanda sighed before going through her closet for anything that wasn't cheap, 'dress to impress', she just needed a semi formal outfit.

'There you are!' She excitedly pulled forth a black button up, it was form fitting and highlighted her best assets, tight around her biceps and breast, something she always loved to show off. The brunette paired the shirt with tan dress pants, they were baggy enough to hide her bulge, if she were to go without attention that is.

Wanda sighed as she checked the clock and realized that it was way too early to go to a bar, no one really goes to a bar mid-evening.

'Alright, guess I'll just get ready for two hours??' She placed her clothes on the bed before walking into the bathroom, heaving another heavy sigh as she stared at herself in the mirror for a moment.

She was nowhere close to self-concious, Wanda knew how to use her assets to her advantage, how to make girls fall for her charm, how to make sure that her needs are always met in whatever way she seems fit.

She was strong, her muscles flexing with every movement and she always made a point to show them off. Wanda knew that she was big, bigger than average in fact, and she knew how to please a woman, how to fuck them until they were nothing but a drooling mess. She loved it.

The tall woman shook her head to clear her head before pulling her clothes off, hands brushing against her happy trail in the process, another feature she knew women loved.

Wanda took one last look in the mirror before stepping into the shower, the warm water instantly making her relax, she stood under the stream for a good few minutes, letting herself revel in the pure serenity of her shower before thoroughly scrubbing herself of off any filth, and making sure that she smelt and looked as good as she could.

Which also meant going through her extensive skincare routine, and putting on the minimal makeup she's comfortable doing. Wanda spent extra time just putting her clothes on and slicking her hair back, making sure that the night wouldn't fail.

The time finally came when the clock hit 7pm and her uber arrived, her wariness started dissipating once she stepped out of the car and stood outside of the bar. There was a black, classy sign that spelled out "midnight rose", Wanda stood there for a moment before shrugging and walking in.

To her surprise, the bar was barely filled but she could distinctly make out a good few older women. The atmosphere was nice, she could just feel the class in the air, and she did not fit in.

As she stepped further into the bar she could feel eyes on her, several eyes but she paid no mind as she continued towards the bar, and took a seat, quickly casting a glance towards the women seated a few stools away from her only to see them already watching her. There were three of them but one in particular caught her attention, her curled red hair, painted red lips and short black dress that showed off thick thighs, heavy breast and the most perfect stomach, her rolls visible through the dress. Yeah, Wanda wanted her.

Wanda quickly ordered a drink before making her way over to the women, and focusing in on the redhead, a small smirk forming when she noticed the other two giggling before moving to another table.

She sent a charming smile to the now alone woman, before asking if it was okay for her to sit down to which Wanda got an enthusiastic 'yes' to. The younger woman smiled to herself as she sat down, 'so far so good' before turning her attention to the other woman.

"I'm Wanda" The redhead hummed as Wanda took a sip from her drink, and she didn't even bother to hide the way her eyes followed the movement of Wandas' tongue as she licked off the excess liquid from her lips.

"Oh, I, I'm uhm Natasha" The brunette did not even bother her satisfaction with the effect she was already having, or how happy she was with how nervous Nat was.

"Natasha, huh? what a pretty name" Natasha blushed, just hearing her name coming from Wanda was enough for her to feel a carnal need she hadn't felt in years.

"I- thank you" Wanda smiled warmly at her, hiding her desires as she leaned closer, slowly surrounding Natasha in every sense but not doing anything too bold knowing that her friends were still watching.

"So, Natasha, tell me about yourself." The older woman nodded quickly, knowing that it would help turn her mind away from the burning ache in between her legs.

"Oh, I'm 38, just became a mom of the cutest little baby! He's truly the light of my life, and I'm a CEO, it's very stressful but I have the most amazing support system" Natashas' whole face lit up as she talked about her son, and Wanda found it way too endearing.

"That's amazing, it really does seem like you have a good support system" Wanda cast a glance at the two friends who were not-so-subtly looking at them.

Natasha noticed it, ofcourse and laughed brightly, leaning forward and giving Wanda a good view of her cleavage in the process. The brunette couldn't help but stare for a moment before meeting the older womans eyes again.

"What about you?" Wandas eyebrows raised in surprise, she never talks with anyone enough to get to this stage, or no one has cared enough to ask.

"I'm a full time student, I work part time at a convenience store too, you know trying to pay off the college debt I will have until I die" The student playfully rolled her eyes as Natasha nodded in understanding.

Wanda hoped Natasha wouldn't find out her ulterior motive, she didn't want to use Nat for her money, she already had a stressful enough life.

"Do you have anyone to help you with that?" The brunettes' eyes raised in surprise again, this night couldn't be going better.

"I don't.." Natasha nodded thoughtfully, she had more than enough money and this woman clearly needed it more than her, and she wouldn't mind being in affairs with Wanda.

"Do you want me to help you?" Wanda opened her mouth to protest, but she did need the money, and the expectant look on Natashas' face made her rethink.

"I, yes. Thank you, Natasha!" The brunette smiled brightly, over the moon at the revelation of the night. She leaned even closer to the redhead, her hands gripping onto Natashas', she noted in the process how much bigger her hands were than the older womans', it was nice.

Wanda looked at her with an intensity that made Natasha flush and her hands sweat, this woman made her nervous, her strong hands held hers in a vice grip, the redhead chanced a glance to their hands. Wandas' hands were noticeably bigger than hers, slender and veiny.

The older womans' breath caught in her throat as she met Wandas' eyes, her nerves coming back full time when she noticed the dark look in her eyes.

"Wanda.." Natasha felt breathless, her thighs pressing together in pure need and she knew that Wanda felt it too judging by the way she adjusted in her seat.

"fuck.." It was groaned out, Wandas' voice taking on a much huskier tone, her accent all the more prominent. "Natasha, can we get out of here?"

The redhead nodded quickly, more than ready for what's about to come. Nat kept her hand in the younger womans' as she led her to the restroom, deciding that she did not have the patience for a car ride.

A surprised gasp left her when Wanda pressed up against her, her bulge clear against Natasha as she rubbed against the older woman, not even bothering to hide her desires.

The brunette let out a heady groan, loving the way her fingers sunk into Natashas' waist when she not-so-carefully maneuvered the shorter womans' body to face hers.

Natasha looked up at her with wide viridescent eyes, a burning desire playing in them and Wanda couldn't hold herself back from surging forward and kissing the other woman.

Wanda moaned in delight as their lips met, and the older woman immediately let her take control of the kiss. She smiled into the kiss when Natasha didn't even put a fight when she pushed her tongue into the redheads mouth.

The brunette delighted in the way Natasha felt against her as her hands started moving, sliding up her stomach and squeezing her boobs before one hand wrapped around her throat to push Natasha back against the sink.

The redhead pulled away with a delighted gasp, her chest heaving as Wanda lifted her up onto the counter, pushing her dress up in the process and Natasha has never been more turned on.

"Oh fuck, you look so good like this" Wanda was becoming breathless and knew she couldn't waste anymore time being outside of Natasha. The younger woman used one hand to unbuckle and pull her cock out, and the other to free the redheads breast from her dress with a certain desperation.

Natashas' head fell back against the wall when the taller woman rubbed her tip against her entrance, Wandas' head dipped forward to wrap her lips around one of the redheads' nipples.

The older woman moaned deeply, her eyes squeezing shut as Wanda pushed into her, Natashas' breath faltered when inch after inch filled her up. Natasha held her breath until she could feel Wandas' hips pressed against her and the resounding groan from the younger woman.

The brunette continued to suckling on Natashas' nipple as she let the woman adjust to the intrusion. Wandas eyes widened in surprise when a warm, sweet liquid flowed into her mouth but it did nothing to make her less desperate.

Wanda finally started fucking her, the woman was in no hurry as she kept her pace slow enough to take in every sensation that Natasha was giving her.

The younger woman placed one final kiss on her nipple before switching to the other, eagerly suckling on Natasha as a deep, satisfied moan left her. Wanda finally picked up the pace when the redhead gripped her head and forced the taller womans head further into her chest.

It wasn't long until Wanda took on a much rougher pace, her hands tightly gripping Natashas' hips as the sound of their mixed moans and skin slapping together filled the confined space.

"Fuck baby, you're going to make me cum like this" Wanda had stopped her slight assault on Natashas' boobs in favor of burying her face in the older womans neck, occasionally placing kisses and bite marks there as she brought them both closer to their impending orgasms.

The redhead moaned loudly at that, the mere idea of Wanda cumming in her pushed her closer to the edge, her hips moving to meet the younger womans every thrust, desperate for her release.

"I can feel how close you are, cum for daddy, doll" Natasha moaned loudly and nodded desperately as she fell apart for Wanda, who follows shortly after, the feeling of the older womans walls convulsing around her was all she needed.

"That's it, such a good girl" Wanda held the woman close as she rode out her orgasm fully, the two holding each other close as they caught their breath. It took a few more minutes until the brunette decided to pull out, smiling subtly at the sight of her cum dripping out of Natasha.

The redhead watched as Wanda grabbed a paper towel and dampened it in the sink before turning back to her. The younger woman carefully cleaned her up before helping her of off the counter and adjusted her dress.

"Thank you, Natasha, really" The taller woman had her hands on Natashas' waist as she stared down at her, her eyes shining with pure happiness and the redhead could feel herself melt.

"You don't have to thank me, sweetie" Natasha smiled up at her, and placed her hands on Wandas' shoulders, ignoring just how muscular they were and how much she wanted to explore the younger womans' body for the moment.

Wanda tilted her head in contemplation, she owed the other woman more than she could put into words but she also wasn't the one holding the reigns.

"Alright, but I'm still very thankful for you" Natashas smile widened at that, and she couldn't help but lean up to kiss the other woman, who eagerly kissed her back. The older woman kept the kiss short and sweet, not wanting to get swept up in it.

The redhead reluctantly pulled back only for Wanda to roughly pull her body against her own, making Natasha gasp as she felt just how firm she was.

"Wanda..I have to get back" it was said in a mere whisper, and Natasha made no move to let go of the brunette but Wanda nodded in understanding nonetheless.

"Give me your phone." Natasha nodded and pulled her phone up and handed it over to the other woman, who took it and put in her contact as 'Папочка <3' before texting herself from the number.

"So, now we can figure out the details" Wanda gave her a tight smile as she handed the older woman her phone back, her smile widening when she noticed the way Natasha blushed at the name she gave herself.

"Get back to your friends котелок, we'll see eachother soon, okay?" Natasha looked at her with wide eyes and the taller woman could tell that she didn't really want to.

"Yeah...okay" The redhead nodded, psyching herself up to see her overly pretentious friends again.

Wanda smiled softly at her and pressed a parting kiss to her forehead before walking them both out of the restroom to make sure that Natasha made it back to her friends while she made her way out of the bar to wait for her uber.

That night Wanda fell asleep with thoughts surrounding Natasha and with a smile on her face. When she woke up the next morning she had $200 transferred to her account and a 'thank you for last night' from the older woman.

She smiled at the message and shot back a 'thank you, котелок' along with a picture of her still in bed, nothing more than a cropped tank top and boxers adorning her body, both her muscles and bulge on display for Natasha.

The older woman did not reply right away but Wanda knew that she had seen her message, a small smirk playing on her lips when she received a 'when can we see eachother again?'.

Wanda didn't reply until she had gotten herself ready for class, just letting Natasha sit in her own desperation.

'I don't get off until 8pm but you can pick me up if you want' the younger woman had a busy day ahead of her, her morning filled with classes and her evening filled with work.

Natasha responded a minute later with a 'I'll see you then', the younger woman smiled down at her phone as she made her way to her friends, only to see that Bucky and Kate were the only ones there.

The brunette sat down on the bench opposite her friends, making sure to save the spot next to her for Carol, who happened to arrive a mere minute later.

Wanda smiled brightly at the blonde and opened her arms for Carol to jump into, to which she pressed her back against Wandas' chest as the brunette wrapped her arms around the other womans waist, fingers teasingly running along the waistline of her jeans.

Carol smirked up at her, and Wanda knew what that meant but instead decided to take her time, placing a lingering kiss to the junction of the taller womans' neck.

The blonde whined in annoyance, practically vibrating against Wanda as she waited for the younger woman to tell her all about her rendezvous.

"Come on, Wanda, just tell me!" The shorter woman chuckled and scratched Carols waist in warning.

"She's so fucking hot and god, she was such a fucking slut, couldn't even wait to take me home, I just had to take her in the bathroom and she took my cock like she was made for it." Wanda chuckled at the other womans very obvious boner as Carols breath faltered while their other friends groaned out an "get a room"

The brunette smirked and whispered a "if you're really good, I might take care of your little predicament for you" as Carol shivered against her.

The two didn't even notice as Bucky and Kate left, muttering something about them being "too much", which Wanda paid no mind to as she placed more wet kisses onto the blondes neck.

"We should get out of here." Carol let out a shuddering breath and nodded, carefully standing up but almost too mindful of her painful boner as she adjusted herself the best she could.

Wanda followed shortly after, placing a guiding hand on the blondes lower back as she walked them to her dorm. The shorter woman playfully slapped Carols ass, smirking in satisfaction as the other woman jumped in surprise, a small yelp leaving her at the pure force of it.

"Strip and get on the bed, on your stomach ass up" The taller woman nodded and gave a cheeky grin as she started getting rid off her clothes, Carol laid down on the bed, smirking to herself when Wanda adjusted her position, her hands gripping Carols cheeks, the brunette smirked when she noticed the blue jeweled plug that was pushed inside of her ass.

"You wanted this, didn't you?" Wanda chuckled when Carol whined, a small nod following shortly after.

The shorter woman took a moment to take in the sight before her, before taking ahold of the base and pulling out until the widest part was stretching the rim. Carol moaned when the brunette pushed the plug into her again before pulling it all the way out.

"You ready for me, baby?" Wanda smirked at the way the blonde pushed back against her, and the way she whined with every minute the brunette was outside of her.

The younger woman grabbed ahold of the base of her cock and slowly pushed her way into Carol, a low satisfied moan leaving her as she pushed further and further into the taller woman.

The blonde moaned loudly when Wanda finally bottomed out, her ass pushed against the other womans pelvis as Wanda let her adjust to the stretch.

Wanda slowly pulled out before thrusting forward with a force the blonde still was not used to, Carols entire body being forced forward with every thrust the younger woman forced upon her.

The blondes' loud moans were slightly muffled by the cheap dorm mattress as her face was pushed into it, even then Wanda could clearly hear her pleads for more.

The brunette smirked as she reached around Carol and wrapped her hand around her cock in a vice grip, laughing as the older womans' hips immediately moved forward into her hand.

"You gonna cum for me, cap?" The blonde moaned loudly at that, and nodded desperately as Wanda jerked her off.

"Cum then, slut" Carol did so without a second thought, hips stilling as spurts after spurts of cum land on the mattress, finally able to catch her breath as Wandas' also stilled.

"Now you just gotta make daddy cum" The older woman let out a deep breath as Wanda pulled out of her and turned her onto her back.

The shorter woman kneeled over her, perfectly lining herself up with Carols' awaiting mouth before pushing herself in, a low, satisfied moan leaving her as she's surrounded by the captains' awfully skilled mouth.

Wanda carelessly grabbed onto the back of the older womans head to get the leverage she needed to properly fuck her mouth.

"That's it, such a good cock sucker" Carol moaned quietly around her, her own hips jerking up into nothingness as she let Wanda use her.

The brunette came with one last thrust and a satisfied groan, smiling tiredly as Carol gagged around her.

Wanda caressed the other womans cheek with a small smile as she pulled out.

The brunette tapped Carols cheek with two fingers, giving a slightly apologetic smile as she got herself dressed.

"Not to fuck and dump but-" Carol rolled her eyes with a small smirk, the younger woman did this every single time and she didn't necessarily mind, it wasn't one sided either.

"Yeah, I know, I'll get going" Wanda gave her a bright smile and a kiss to her cheek as Carol got herself dressed, and walked out of the room with a small limp to her step.

The brunette watched with a small smirk, before giving herself a once over and making her way to the local convenience store she worked at.

Deciding to text Natasha, and lowkey hoping for a little something in her messages. 'Hey, I might get off earlier today, pick me up at 6? Ps. I miss you :)'

Natasha surprisingly responded straight away, her excitement exuding from her words alone. 'Hi! Yes, I can do that 😊' followed closely by a 'I miss you too, daddy'

Wanda smirked down at her phone, more than happy with how their arrangement was working out.

As the student made her way into the store with a smile she usually wouldn't wear to work, but she couldn't bring herself to wipe it off of her face.

Steve, her coworker, gave her an odd look as she walked up to the cash register. "What's up with you today?" Wanda dropped her smile, and scowled at him.

"Can't a girl be happy, old man" The blonde man playfully rolled his eyes, not too fond but used to the nickname given by practically all of his coworkers.

"She can but you usually aren't, especially not during your shifts" Wanda chuckled, nodding in admittance.

"I'm getting my dick wet, twice" The younger woman laughed when Steves face scrunched up in disgust.

"Don't tell me that! I didn't need to know that!" Wanda only laughed harder as the blond half-heartedly glared at her.

"You asked so you can't really blame me" The brunette shrugged as Steve let out a heavy sigh, hoping to completely erase the vision Wanda gave him out of his mind.

"Just get to work, please" The man pleaded, which just made Wanda laugh even more, knowing that she had nothing to do.

"I work at the register and there's literally no-one here" She gave him a pointed look and it was his turn to shrug, giving her a somewhat innocent look.

"You know you could just let me go home, you work fantastically alone and I would be able to see my girl" Steve sighed once again, knowing that he wouldn't need any help but he also would get in big trouble if he just let Wanda go.

"Just work your shift, it's not even that long" Wanda sighed in experation but didn't say anything further, deciding that she could endure those few hours of her shift.

Her shift was uneventful to say the least, her costumers consisting of five people in total and Wanda could die of boredom. The promise of seeing Natasha again was the only thing that kept her going.

Natashas wide grin was the first thing she noticed as she stepped through the main entrance and she could barely hold herself back from barreling herself into the older woman.

She wrapped her strong arms around the older woman, Wanda lifted Natasha up in the air, relishing in the way the other woman wrapped her thighs around her waist as she spun her around in the air. The brunette shoved her face into Natashas chest, loving the way she's surrounded by pillowy softness as Nat giggles above her.

The shorter womans face is flushed red when Wanda sets her down on the ground again and the brunette grins at her, eyes dark with lust even as her smile is bright.

No words are needed as the two of them step into Natashas car, the fanciest car that Wanda has been in by far and the younger woman gives herself a moment to appreciate it.

The redhead glanced at her for a moment before starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot. Wanda spent the entire time watching her, her hand tightly gripping Natashas' thigh, just barely holding herself back from moving her hand higher.

"Fuck, I've missed this body" it was groaned out in a dark rasp, and Natasha couldn't hold back her gasp as the grip on her thigh tightened to something painful.

"Wanda.." The younger woman only hummed in reply, way too distracted by how Natasha looked in her tight, low cut t shirt and short skirt.

"That's not my name, принцесса" The redhead let out a breath in an attempt to calm herself down.

"Daddy...please, we're almost home" Wanda groaned in annoyance and grabbed her free hand, placing it right on her bulge.

"Baby, please, I need you" Natasha let out a quiet whine at that, her hand tightening around Wanda and her own thighs clenching together.

The redhead let out a quiet sigh of relief as she pulls up into her driveway, her now free hand coming to grab Wandas in a pathetic attempt to stop her.

"Let's take this inside, please" The younger woman hummed in conteplation, knowing very well that she'd take Natasha anywhere anytime.

"Inside, now." The redhead grinned in pure exhilaration, hand already grabbing for Wandas as the younger woman pressed up against her back, her other hand rubbing up and down her thigh before settling on her waist, their joined hands resting against Natashas belly.

The walk inside seemed endless, and was somewhat of a struggle as Wanda just refused to let go of her.

The both of them sighed in relief as they stepped into Natashas bedroom and Wanda detached herself from her.

"Strip. Now" Natasha gulped in what could only be anticipation as she undressed, avoiding the brunette's intense gaze the best she could.

Wanda groaned in pure lust as she was met with the sight of the older womans nude body, and she knew she couldn't keep herself from fucking Natasha any longer as she made quick work on undressing herself.

"On your hands and knees" Natasha nodded, barely holding back her whimper as she settled into position on her bed. Wanda following closely behind as she settled right against her with a satisfied sigh.

The younger woman drug her cock through her pussy, just far enough to bump against her clit before pushing into the velvety heat she had dreamt about all day.

Wanda moaned in satisfaction as she was finally sheated inside of the redhead, letting herself savour the feeling of Natasha.

When she started moving again it was with a hand in the older woman's hair and one tightly gripping her waist, fingers sinking into plush softness.

Her thrusts are aggressive and she's pushing Natashas' face further into the mattress with each thrust, her hips meeting her ass each and every time, making it jiggle and Wanda could not look away.

Natashas moans were music to her ears and she could not get enough, and she would not muffle them either. Using the handful of hair she pulled the shorter woman up against herself.

"You sound so fucking pretty for me" The redheads responding moan was the lewdest Wanda had heard her, and fuck, she was about ready to cum on the spot.

The brunette wrapped the hand that was once in Natashas hair to her throat, pressing down enough to give her that heady feeling as she moved the other down to rub her clit in tight circles.

The older woman moaned loudly, her hips jerking in uneven motions against her as she tried to get herself off.

Wanda could feel the woman tightening around her, and she knew that Natasha wouldn't need much more to cum.

"Cum for daddy, котелок" Natashas moan bordered on a scream as she tensed in the younger womans arms, letting her orgasm wash over her with a relieved moan of Wandas name.

Wanda let the feeling of Natasha cumming around her bring her to her own orgasm, her hips stilling as she filled the redhead to the brim with her cum, the both of them milking eachother on.

The younger woman groaned quietly as they both came down from their highs, Wanda pressed a kiss against her shoulder blade before shifting them both to lay down on the kingsized bed.

"Can I stay in you?" Natashas eyes widened in surprise but still nodded shyly, seemingly embarrassed by the question but Wanda grinned widely at her and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.

[urhoneycombwitch]

shelter thee to me

foreword: apparently I just love putting Steve in Situations™️ since this is the second back-to-back sick fic I’ve written for him. Hmm. Cheers to all u other hurt/comfort lovers this one’s 4 u <3 this piece was finished thanks to the inspo I got from Syl @thecreelhouse - she has a GREAT fic called Accident Prone that you totally should check out if you’re interested in this type of subject matter! ❤️‍🩹

cw: descriptions of a migraine, Steve is a bit of a depressed mess, there is comfort tho I promise, alcohol consumption, Steve actively does things to worsen his pain (but it does get addressed), gender neutral reader

wc: 4k

___

It’s the first warm spring day of 1987, and the Munson Bar-B-Q Bash is in full-swing.

Wayne flips burgers and rotates hot dogs dutifully on the grill, cigarette perched at his lips wiggling as he talks to El. Her doey eyes are wide with rapturous attention, like she’s never seen someone cooking outdoors before (highly likely; the world holds so much newness and wonders yet-unseen for a kid who’s been recently liberated from her windowless underground existence).

A few of the other Party kids are playing a raucous and complicated game of multi-player checkers, Dustin and Lucas kneeling in the grass while Mike and Will oppose, pressed in close around the small board. Max (inexplicably and suddenly) declares her piece as “knighted”, the chorus of boyish complaints quickly silenced the moment her hand flexes around the handle of the black cane at her side (in every possible alternate universe, you hope Max Mayfield always has a cool weapon to defend herself with).

The adults of the group are in various forms of relax around Forest Hills park- Joyce stacks paper plates at a nearby picnic table while Hopper is close behind, muttering things that make her laugh, earning playful little swats from her free hand; Jon, Argyle, and Eddie gave the classic “taking a walk” excuse to Mrs. Byers about twenty minutes back, the heady smell of weed drifting from the sparse forest nearly imperceptible over the smell of cooking meat.

Robin’s at your feet, the length of your legs supporting her torso as your fingers work to tie off the neat braid you’ve just finished on the left side of her hair. She’s been letting it grow, since the shitshow of last year- tawny brown locks swing just past her upper shoulders now.

“And I really mean it, this time- Keith’s out to get me,” Robin is saying, wiggling despite your instruction to “Sit still, or your right braid’s gonna be all fucked up,” gripping the strands of her hair a bit tighter in warning. She complies, then huffs out- “Steve, are you even listening back there?”

Steve hums. He’s by your side on the bench, a spot that you’d snagged early on for the both of you- under the comforting shade of a big willow tree, slightly on the outskirts of all the activity. Heat and direct sunlight can sometimes mess with Steve’s vision, loud noise has the potential to fuck with his hearing- facts of life he hasn’t so much told you rather than the result of many quiet observations about your partner over the course of a year.

Steve doesn’t like to talk about it. He’s not interested in rehashing the past, tunes out Eddie’s dramatics whenever the curly-haired boy’s story-telling nature arises; the only thing Steve hates more than remembering is being remembered- by Joyce, tearfully thanking him for being brave and saving her boys; by Hopper, with a firm pat to the shoulder and a stilted speech of unsung heroics; even by Robin, who gets in on the recollections in defiance of Steve’s glare, her hands arcing through the air to recreate the whoosh of his wooden oar.

Alcohol also tends to affect Steve differently, in this post-fight world that you all now live- but he’s taking sips from a cooler-chilled can of beer, thick-framed glasses resolutely off and buried in that nest of hair. You’d given him a look, earlier, when he’d walked back to give Robin a soda, hands still wet from digging around in the ice- but if Steve noticed your worry he didn’t respond to it, instead pressing a freezing can of Coke to the bare skin of Robin’s leg, backing down with a laugh when she squealed and got one good smack in against his arm.

“I’m listening, Robs,” Steve says, leaning forward to rest elbows on knees, condensation dripping off the can of Coors Light between his hands. “Keith’s been on one lately. I’ll fight him for you, if y’want.”

Robin snorts. You fit another elastic around her second braid, just as she brings her fist up to bump against Steve’s. “We’ll tag team him. Out back by the dumpsters. Great place to hide a body.”

“Jesus, Robin,” Steve chides, over the sound of your giggle.

She pushes herself up from off the ground, smoothing hands over her fresh braids as she thanks you, then turns to walk towards the huddled group of teens, winking over her shoulder- “Gotta show the kiddies what a real Checker Champ looks like.”

There’s a din of excitement as Robin joins, cheering and clapping echoing across the lawn- beside you, Steve stiffens, just slightly.

You pretend not to notice, instead scooching over until your shorts-covered thigh is pressing against his leg. Steve makes a happy noise in the back of his throat, wraps the arm not impeded by a beer can around your shoulders, tucking his nose to the top of your head.

“Feeling okay?” You try to keep your tone light, neutral, plucking a stray thread from Steve’s jeans absentmindedly.

He nods into your hair, squeezing your opposite shoulder- “Yeah. How ‘bout you?”

Ignoring his immediate deflection in the form of a question, you spread your hand flat over his thigh, thumb running up the side seam of denim, a bit more earnest in your questioning- “It’s just- are you okay? You’d tell me if you wanted to go home, right? You know I’m always happy to make some excu-”

“I don’t want to go home. I’m fine.”

Steve rarely ever interrupts you, even more rare that he speaks to you with any sort of anger, which is why the sharpness of those short sentences is enough to have you pulling back to look at him, incredulous and a little wounded (though you do your best not to show it).

He seems to realize his mistake as soon the words are out of his mouth; Steve winces, palm still warm over your shoulder blade, comforting squeeze as he cuts in, quickly- “Honey. Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just- I’m good, okay? You don’t have to worry about me.”

Your eyes roam over his face: the deep-set apology in those amber eyes, the soft lock of hair flopping over his forehead, the twist at the corner of his mouth. You fit your thumb to it, and the shape changes, your heart lurching as he smiles against your touch. “Steve-”

“Steve!”

The moment you say his name softly there’s a louder, more piercing version being yelled from a few yards away, Dustin waving frantically amidst Robin’s triumphant cackles- “Steve! Stop making out and come help, Robin’s whipping our asses!”

Steve blinks, and you can pinpoint the exact second he gives in, shuttering those walls back up with a straightened spine. One tender kiss to your palm, then he rises, leaving the beer in his empty seat- “Duty calls.”

After a robust round of Crazy Checkers surrounded by shrieking children, Steve’s energy is waning, you can tell- there’s this certain way he holds himself, little indicators of pain and discomfort that you’ve learned to pick up on; his finger taps mindlessly on the rim of his plastic water cup, the space between his neck and shoulders is one tight line, and his silence has been absorbed by the miasma of noise all around.

No one else seems to have noticed, too absorbed in eating and joking with mouthfuls of food, everyone crammed around two shoved-together picnic tables.

Robin jostles into your side reaching for the ketchup, which in turn makes you bump into Steve on your right; when you hear the sharp intake of his breath, you lean in, careful to keep up appearances, making it seem like you’re whispering a sweet nothing, hand cupped around his ear to dampen all the other sounds.

“Will you let me take you home?”

Should’ve known that wasn’t gonna work. Steve squeezes your leg under the table, his hand wracked with tiny tremors, smile tight and not reaching his eyes as he turns to whisper back, “Quit asking. Stop worrying. I’m fine.”

So goddamn stubborn. Well, so be it, Harrington. You scoff, as if he’s just told a joke timed to the beat of overlapping conversations, and peel yourself off of his side.

Cool air seeps up your bare arm where it had been kept warm in the crook of Steve’s own arm. It feels strange, to not have some sort of constant contact- but if Steve is playing the obstinate game, count you in.

Twenty minutes later, lunch and its accompanying mess has been cleared away, many hands making light work, and Eddie has brought out his stereo system to try and goad the anti-dancers of the group to join a makeshift dance floor.

Jonathan’s playing at being too post-meal sleepy to move off the bench, while Will and Eddie tussle and pull at him, and everyone’s laughing but you can’t focus on anything other than Steve- silent and stiff at your side, doing the bare minimum of human interaction to fly under the radar of suspicion.

Your radar, however, is finely tuned, and you know he’s minutes away from needing to be horizontal; it’s physically painful to keep your hands to yourself as they long to soothe, hugging arms-crossed around your own middle to keep from reaching for him.

Jonathan joins the dance circle with shambling reluctance, and when everyone cheers, Steve’s voice is at your ear, faint and sounding like a shadow of himself- “Gonna use the bathroom. Save me a piece of pie.” And with a final squeeze to your shoulder, he starts back down the path to the Munson’s new trailer.

Two minutes is a rather generous amount of time, in your opinion, to stay seated- until Robin splits from the jumping, dancing fray, light sheen of sweat on her forehead as she bends towards your seated form- “If you wanna go check on Dingus, I’ll make up a good excuse for you both.”

Overwhelmed with gratefulness and anxiety, you pull Robin into a quick hug, then make a smooth break for the winding gravel path.

The noises of the party fade as you walk through the door of the trailer, wiping your feet on the Welcome mat but keeping them on in case you need to make a quick exit with a sick partner in tow.

“Steve?” You keep your calling quiet, rounding the corner of the sun-warmed trailer walls towards the sliding bathroom door, then pull up short- Steve’s sitting against the closed door, on the outside of it, shoes planted on the rug, hands in fists at his side.

His head is tipped forward, resting on bent knees; his glasses are tucked by one arm into the neck of his collared tee, bellows of his breath coming shallow and quick.

Sinking to your knees beside him, you press a hand to the back of his neck, firm pressure against the taut muscle, attempting to bring some relief; Steve makes a choked, whimpery noise, and it almost breaks you.

A wave of helplessness washes through your veins; in defiance of the feeling, you suck in a steadying breath, grasping at adrenaline-fueled resolve as you run through the mental checklist of warning signs.

Thanks to Doc Owens (and the one-and-only appointment you forced Steve into last year, when you found him passed out on your kitchen floor from overheating in the summer sun), you know what to look for, and it gives purpose to your movements.

Steve’s breathing is rapid but not emergency-levels; he’s sweating, but not entirely through his shirt, yet; you get him to lift his head with murmured encouragement- thick lashes rimmed with tears, flushed cheeks reflecting heat back into your palms, and you find what you’re looking for- the black of his pupils equally dilated, twin moons almost eclipsing the almond-brown of his irises.

Last time Steve got a migraine, it lasted for hours, a whole sweltering afternoon of him pale and in pain on your couch, arm draped over his eyes while you kept a rotating supply of fresh ice packs to his temples and top of his spine.

The worst part of all, besides seeing Steve in pain, is the fact that he so resolutely denies himself the help that he would give others, in a heartbeat. Years of putting himself on a back burner, of making sure his nearest and dearest are taken care of before he even thinks about his own needs, have stuck firm.

Steve doesn’t have any heels left to dig in, now, as you feel the slide-grind of his teeth beneath your hands; you let your thumbs brush down his cheeks, a small movement to say I’m here, I’m not leaving you, and his eyes flutter shut.

“Gonna take you home,” you say, soft as your hands that drop to the broad width of his shoulders, “And this time I’m not asking.”

“Okay,” Steve manages, voice thin and strained, and you hate how much that single word is soaked in defeat.

Moving slow, you manage to get Steve on his feet- he leans heavy against you, waving off your offer to get Robin or Eddie to help with a simple and devastatingly earnest “Please, don’t, just want you-”; at a snail’s pace down the hall, in tandem down the front steps, Steve’s eyes slamming shut to block out the waning light of the sunset as you guide him to the Beemer, thankfully out of sight from the party.

You get him settled in the passenger seat, pocketing his glasses and sliding the seatbelt into place across his chest with a click; while you don’t want to make Steve feel any more childlike than he already probably feels, you can’t stop from pressing a kiss to his cheek before pulling away, adding in a voice that you hope is quiet enough-

“If you’re gonna throw up, do it in the glovebox, okay? This is my boyfriend’s car, and I can’t have him knowing I’m taking strays home. Especially since you’re so handsome.”

Steve smiles weakly at your joke- his eyes are still closed but he catches your hand wrapped around the seatbelt, brings your knuckles up to his lips- “Sure thing, honey.”

There are footsteps crunching up the gravel, and you straighten in the tight space of the partially open car door to find Robin approaching.

She stops a few feet away, hands planted on her hips with a shake of her head. “Jesus, Harrington, you look like shit.”

Steve, eyes still closed and leaning back on the headrest, says to you in an obvious, scratchy stage-whisper- “Maybe if we stay reaaaal still, she won’t know we’re here.”

“If you didn’t look ready to keel over at any moment, I’d punch you for that,” Robin snipes, rocking heel to toe in her converse, locking eyes with you- “Need a good excuse?”

Relief washes out any remaining traces of helplessness. You breathe a sigh. “Yes. Please and thank you, Robs.”

“I got you covered. Emergency at the office, sink sprung a leak, a goldfish death in the family- got ‘em locked and loaded.” She shoots you two exuberant thumbs up, then sobers a bit, expression dropping. “Just. Take care of him, okay?”

You shut the car door with the least amount of noise you can manage, bumping your hip into the handle so the inner latch catches, then squeeze Robin’s hand on your way to the driver’s seat. “I will, Robin. I’ll call your landline later, let you know if he’s up for visitors.”

With a final salute, the ends of Robin’s hair fan out as she jogs back to the party, outdoor sounds disappearing as you duck into the car.

The ride home is mostly silent as you listen for Steve’s breathing, taking each stop sign and turn in the road with measured slowness. Brake, check for signs of life, and creep onwards.

You’re less than three blocks from Loch Nora when Steve leans into the sling of his belt, one hand flat against the dash, the other to his stomach, and you’re quick to swallow down panic, asking in what you hope is a calm voice, “Are you gonna throw up?”

“No,” Steve says, chin dropping to his chest, huffing- then, quietly, “Maybe.”

You’ve already pulled off the main road, throwing the gear shift into park before unbuckling and scrambling around in the seat pocket behind you, plastic grocery bag you’d stashed months ago for occasions such as this crinkling in your fist.

Steve’s fingers on the dash curl into a fist. There’s a spike of alarm you claw at, capture, and shove back, unable to quell the rush of murmured comfort as you lean across the middle console- “Here, baby. ‘S okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you, you’re safe…”

Steve doesn’t take the bag that you press into his left hand, still in a fist at his abdomen; his eyes are squeezed shut under slanted dark brows, and tears begin leaking out, coursing in rivulets down cheeks gone pallid. His voice is barely more than a croak when he speaks.

“I just want to be normal.”

And then, Steve’s crying in earnest: short breathy sobs and strung-out whimpers, like the only thing that hurts more than the act of crying itself would be to hold it all in.

The plastic bag gets shoved to the side as you pull Steve in, hands soothing down the shuddering planes of his back, your voice soothing and breaking in equal measure- “I know, baby, I know, I’m so sorry…”

Hot tears drip down your neck as his forehead rolls against your shoulder. Steve’s hands ball into fists, fabric of your shirt caught in his desperate grounding attempt, fighting through the wreck to speak broken secrets against your bare skin-

“Jus’ wanna be normal. Just want to drink a fucking beer without getting a goddamn headache afterwards. I wanted to stay at the party, wanted to…”

Breath catching, a fresh jolt of pain, and Steve’s whimpering like a child against your chest, unspooling a release that’s been building for over a year- Steve never affords himself time for a breakdown, and it’s all coming to a head now.

“It’s not fair,” Steve grits out. He’s doing his best to ride the wave but it’s threatening to pull him under; you can tell by the sinking weight of his head at your collarbone, the way his hands loosen and go lax at your sides, sobs giving way to gritting teeth and steel-tight jaw as Steve battles back the slicing pain in his head.

You know this is a purging, of sorts, and you’re grateful that your boy feels safe enough around you to let go and feel, but you also know that him getting worked up is just going to prolong an already-bad migraine.

So you let your hands drift up again, take his face between your palms, let his forehead rest against yours, speaking low, stripped raw with honesty.

“You’re right, honey. It’s not fair.” Your thumbs smooth gentle against his cheeks, under the dark lashes that flutter into your touch. “I’m so sorry that you have to go through this, and you’re allowed to be upset- but right now, I need you to just breathe, okay, Stevie? Can you do that for me?”

It gives Steve something to focus on, instead of spiraling out- he’s obedient, clutching at your shirt again, eyes shut in concentration, trying to match his too-fast breathing to your steadied tempo. Your fingers wind into the longer pieces of hair at the base of his skull, notching against the pressure points Doc Owens instructed you on ages ago.

Steve shivers. Lets out a dry, choking laugh that sounds nothing like him. “Couldn’t even last one full afternoon.”

He sounds so disappointed in himself. It makes your heart ache, tears stinging at your own eyes as you respond, still gentle despite your first instinct to bite back against his self-loathing. “Steve, give yourself some credit. You’re doing remarkably well, considering the circumstances.”

Steve scoffs, makes to lean back and away but your hands stop him in his tracks, nose to nose with you now as you insist, “When you had to drive Max home because her leg was hurting during Will’s birthday party, you didn’t judge her, right? Didn’t question why she needed a ride home?”

With this proximity, you can see the light dusting of freckles spanning the width of his cheeks, color returning slow but sure. He doesn’t try to pull away again so you keep speaking. “And all those times you’ve taken care of me during a nightmare, or had to come home early ‘cuz I just couldn’t stand an empty room. Remember?

“You were there for me. Always have been, just like I’m gonna be here for you. Better or worse, Harrington. You’re stuck with me.”

There’s a puff of warm air against your lips, a half-laugh but you’ll take it, pulling him in by the elbows, nuzzling against the side of Steve’s tear-lined face for a close hug as you whisper, “I’m really glad you’re alive.”

Your nose follows the slope of his neck down, brushes at the rippled line of scarring, tissue healed but still lightly raised in a ring at the base of his throat.

“Really glad,” you whisper, fiercely.

___

Steve lets you take him home. Even lets you baby him, a bit; though you make a solid effort to not infantilize him, there lives in you a deep desire to swaddle Steve in a blanket and keep him there. Safe from all the swirling noise and light and too-bright colors of the harsh world.

You compromise. Get Steve stretched out on the couch, take his shoes off with a calculated swoop-tug, lay his favorite green knitted blanket over the length of his body.

There’s a pill bottle on the kitchen counter that you pocket, leaving his glasses folded in its place. Blue ice pack burning-cold until you wrap a thin dishcloth around it to take out the sting, you bring it to Steve’s side along with a glass of water.

He takes the pills you offer with a wince- sitting up causes the blood to pound at his temples so you help him back down, sliding the ice pack into place at the top of his spine where the pain is blooming.

From your place on the floor, you monitor Steve, one hand stroking soft at his chest to lull his breaths to normal. After a few minutes, his brows smooth out; a few more, and he’s taking careful blinks in the low-lit room.

“C’mere,” he says, voice still scratchy, doe-brown eyes pleading, catching your hand on the upstroke and giving a small tug. When you start to protest, he whines, sounding more and more like himself by the minute- “Come here, baby. Please.”

Another compromise. Keeping the jostling to a minimum, you settle into Steve’s side, ear pressed over the thumping beat of his heart, arms fit around his waist.

Steve holds you. Breathes. Says, “Thanks. ‘M sorry we had to leave so early.”

Nose tilting up, you kiss against his scar again. “It’s okay. I really didn’t want to dance, and Eddie was about to drag my ass out there against my will so really, you did us all a favor.”

Under your head, Steve’s chest dips and rises with a laugh. His lips press into the crown of your head, and you can feel his smile as he says, “You’re dancin’ with me next time. I wanna see some ass shaking at our next family barbecue.”

You exhale a laugh, too, kiss his jaw, his cheek. “Okay, Swayze. Next time.”

Eventually, you both fall asleep, winding down sleepy and safe in each other’s arms, Steve’s pain eased to near-extinction with the care you’ve given him.

Later you’ll call Robin, give her an update for her peace of mind, cuddle up to Steve some more and listen to a record.

But for now, you’ve got a boy in your arms and the warmth of his body as your anchor into the dreaming.

[lizzy-bennet]

attack of the clones au where everything is the same except anakin does the 2005 pride and prejudice hand flex™️ after helping padme out of the rickshaw. 

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — DILUC x FEM READER

Diluc runs into a once-familiar face at a ball and has a crisis. 

wc — 1.4k

tags —  regency au, Diluc is the epitome of a repressed regency man trying to be proper but being violently turned on by the tiniest amount of skin, childhood playmates meet again four years later, hand flex™️, title from BNHA episode lol

Diluc hadn’t been prepared to ascend to the role of patriarch of the Ragnvindr dukedom at 16, but he had been good at hiding it. 

There were many things Diluc was good at hiding, and from many people, but his childhood friends couldn’t be included among them. Kaeya and Jean could always see right through him. This ability was not appreciated. Especially not when it was used to their advantage. 

“Please, Diluc,” Jean says, knowing she’s wearing him down. “You know my father’s on an expedition with Varka. Who else can I ask to sponsor Barbara’s debut as a debutante?” 

“Kaeya.” Diluc replies flatly. 

“I love Kaeya to death, but we both know he won’t do. His reputation is in tatters!” 

It was true. Kaeya was known as a bit of a lady killer. Not for the first time, Diluc cursed his brother’s less than discreet ways. 

“Please, Diluc. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” 

He knew she wouldn’t and Barbara was a good child who deserved to have a debut, so Diluc begrudgingly found himself playing chaperone. At least Barbara seemed to be enjoying herself. She was one of the most popular young ladies at the ball, with scores of men nearly fighting for the chance to mark their names down on her dance card. 

Diluc himself was bored out of his mind. He took another sip of grape juice and realized belatedly that he had almost finished the entire bottle, as drinking to avoid conversation was all he had been doing for the past hour. 

He was just thinking that as unfortunate as it was, he was ready to tell Barbara to wrap things up so he could take her home when a scuffle broke out on the dance floor. Two boys seemed to be coming to blows over who got to take Barbara’s next dance, with the poor girl caught between them. 

Diluc shoved back his seat, but someone else got there first. The more he looked, the more she seemed familiar. 

The memory returns to him like the first sip of water after a drought.

He was a little shocked, to be honest. It had been, what, four years? If you were who he thought you were, it was a little past the usual time to be debuting. 

You had been Kaeya’s age, he remembered. 

Why was it so startling that you were older now? He had grown. Obviously, you would as well.

His heart doesn’t obey the cool rationality of the mind that got him through fatui ridden Snezhnaya. It strangles itself in his chest, marching to an unsteady beat as his feet carry him slowly over to where you have separated Barbara from the boys. 

They’re jeering at you, calling you a spinster, an old maid past her prime. 

“If you’re not careful,” Diluc says, “you’ll be the ones with no prospects while she’s bided her time for the right man. What lady wants a husband who flies into rages over such simple matters?” 

The Ragnvindr name carries the same weight it had when Diluc’s father was alive. He swallows hard. It’s always strange, watching people turn their eyes on him with the same respect they used to give his father. Crepus used to be the wise one breaking up petty arguments such as these, he and Kaeya the young and immature boys. 

Now everything was different. Diluc has to face the dawn. He was the head of the Ragnvindrs now, duty bound to uphold the legacy of his clan. 

“Diluc,” you stammer, a relic of a time when you had been children and manners were excusable. So you remember him, too.

Then, “Mr. Ragnvindr,” with the understanding now that things were different. That propriety was necessary. 

To hell with propriety. Diluc wanted to hear you stutter over the syllables of his name again. 

He doesn’t smile as he lets his gaze drift over you. He can’t. There’s too many emotions bubbling in his chest. He’s not sure what kind of expression he wants to make.

Your appearance inspires odd feelings in him, a mix of nostalgia, love, and sadness. He wants to touch your face, and feel the softness of your cheek cradled in his palm. He wants to see your eyes close as you lean into his touch. He wants to measure the tiny gap of skin between where your sleeves end and your wrists with his fingers.

Instead his hand flexes with a movement restrained. 

Finally, after allowing himself one final second to drink your appearance in, he says, “Please let me escort you home.” 

Barbara is unusually quiet on the carriage ride back. She darts quick glances between you and Diluc, which slightly unnerves you, even more so when she practically flies out of the carriage into Jean’s arms and starts whispering frantically. Jean nods and pats her back, waving goodbye as Diluc’s carriage trots off in the direction of your address. 

You still haven’t spoken more than a few words to each other since that first moment of recognition at the ball, but when you make to leave the carriage, Diluc grabs your wrist, his fingers curling in a delicate ring. He’s careful. He’s breaking custom.

“What is it, Mr. Ragnvindr?” You prompt after a moment of silence. 

Diluc looks caught in a trap. His heart is torn between longing and righteousness, wanting you and wanting what’s best for you (which is not him). 

Diluc is too much himself to be any good for you. He has long since sworn off marrying anyone, knowing that the Ragnvindr line would die with him. His father would have been disappointed. 

But he would be more disappointed in Diluc’s other activities, like vigilantism, so what’s one more sin to add to the list? Diluc wouldn’t take a wife just to leave her bed cold and empty. He couldn’t marry a woman so that she could wonder if he was out with someone else instead of having dinner with her. He can’t share this bloody and bruised life with anyone. 

He has long since made peace with this fact. 

Within his own estate, Diluc shuts the door behind him and leans his back against it. He slides down until he’s sitting with his back against the wall, head tipped back. He’s grateful all the servants have gone home but Adeline, who he knows is asleep in her room. 

Feeling like a creep, he lifts his hand to his nose and sniffs tentatively. If he concentrates, he can still gather the faint whiff of your perfume lingering where his skin had touched yours. 

Diluc could never be a good husband, but he dreams he could be for you. Silly, impossible dreams, but they get him to dawn.

[sesamestreep]

it really is SUCH a shame that there’s no episode of TOS where the enterprise crew time jumps to Regency-era England or goes to a planet that modeled its culture on that era or something, because it would truly slap for every single main character. Like I don’t even have to explain why this would be awesome for Spock— Mr. I’ll-smash-a-computer-with-my-bare-hands-before-I’ll-admit-I’m-horny himself, king of repression, who basically recreated the famous Pride and Prejudice Hand Flex Scene™️ with his beloved Captain that one time, who meets a blind woman with a high tech gown that helps her “see” and LITERALLY tells her to give his compliments to her dressmaker, who mislead a woman once about his affections and tenderly promised to safeguard her reputation forever about it, who has the perfect angular features to be set off by a cravat—I mean, you get it, but then you’ve also got Kirk—handsome, affable, brave Naval captain who loves his crew more than himself, who falls in like deep profound love with every woman the plot throws at him—and then McCoy—cantankerous, sure, (ever heard of a grumpy/sunshine trope??) but with impeccable, downright old school manners towards women and, yeah, a doctor’s not that prestigious in Regency times, but for like a young lady in trouble who needs the protection of a man’s name or who just wants to piss off her stuffy aristocrat family by marrying “beneath” them, who could be better? If you throw Scotty in the mix, well, he’s Scottish, which [points at a whole subgenre of regency romance novels] is all he’d really need. I’m just saying they would have CLEANED UP, okay??

[meowzfordayz]

NSFW Alphabet — Uzui Tengen

Author’s Note: for my own sanity, only some of these headcanons include Hina, Makio, and Suma. 😆 As w/ all hcs, these are simply my opinions in this exact moment of writing, and are subject to change depending on the context/my mood! 😉

NSFW Alphabet — Uzui Tengen

Uzui Tengen x Reader

Word Count: ~3,100

CW: 18+NSFW, ass!play, cream!pie, degrading language, explicit language, Fem!Reader, oral, public

MILESTONE 20.0

~faqs~

Aftercare? what they’re like after sex

Tengen’s aftercare can be… overwhelming. 🤭 Water and cuddles are appreciated, but do you really need a three course meal? An entire change of bedsheets? A steamy bath complete with petals and/or bath salts? A full body rubdown? Occasionally, the answer is YES! 😌 But oftentimes, the answer is: “Tengen, I’m not going to make it through the appetizer, let alone whatever else you’re planning.” 😴 Because as grateful as you are to be thoroughly pampered and cherished, sometimes the best aftercare is simply a quick rinse followed by promptly passing out.

Body Part? their favorite body part(s)

Tengen’s obsessed with your tits. 🤤😍 I mean, have you seen Hina, Makio, and Suma?! *cue that “You six are the most important things to me.” “Six? But Lord Tengen, there are only three of us.” “I said what I said.” meme* 😂 Sensitivity matters more to him than size or shape; if he can’t elicit a soft gasp from brushing his fingertips across your nipples, then what’s the point? ☹️ He’d be your personal bra if you’d let him, glued to your back 24/7, hands cupping your tits. If you have smaller tits: “But Tengen, they’re not even that big. I don’t need a bra!” “Okaaay, but I come with heating and massaging services! 🥺” If you have larger tits: “Honey, do you need help? ☺️” “Help? 🤨” “If they’re too heavy, I happen to know a strong man who can ease your burdens.” *cue Tengen winking exaggeratedly at your tits*

Tengen’s arms and thighs are to die for. He can hold you up against a wall, biceps flexing as your nails dig into his skin, cock thrusting steady and deep into your pussy, hardly out of breath, until you’re whimpering T-too much, g-gonna cum a-again. He can also keep you in place while you grind your clit against his thigh, forearms toned and unyielding as you melt into his chest, whining as you near your orgasm, unable to rest under his gentle, unforgiving guidance. “Mm, such a pretty thing, getting off on my thigh,” squeezing your waist in warning as you try to slow down, “What a pathetic whore, so anxious to cum the moment she sits on my lap,” grinning smugly as your body shudders, “There’s no stopping now, babygirl’s gotta finish what she starts, gotta make a mess on my thigh, then, maybe, I’ll let you go.” If you really think he’s letting you go after slipping your panties aside to feel your wetness seep through his pants, casually lifting you—with one arm, of course—just enough to fuck rough fingers into your clenched heat… think again. 😃

Cum?

Tengen prefers cumming in your pussy or on your ass. When he’s feeling intimate, finishing in your pussy feels like the ideal ending; it’s heavenly, sexy, and the perfect amount of lewd when you spread your folds so he can watch himself drip out of your stretched hole. If he’s feeling dominant, cumming on your ass satisfies his urge to claim and mark you in a more degrading manner; “My filthy fucking bitch,” as his cum coats your asshole, dribbling down the backs of your thighs, making a mess of the sheets below, “Wearing my cum so beautifully, what a slut.”

Dirty Talk?

Uzui Tengen aka King of Dirty Talk™️. Mind you, King™️ doesn’t mean everything he murmurs into your ear is mouthwatering, panty dropping, orgasm inducing, but it does mean he talks. A lot. Constantly. “You close to cumming? Close to squeezing the life out of my cock? Can’t wait to die by your pussy, mmm, yes darling, kill me.’ … … … 💀 To be fair, 9 out of 10 times he says something that’s actually pleasurable. 😆 “You hear that babydoll? The sound of your greedy pussy squelching around my cock? Look down gorgeous, look at how well you take me. Look and listen, tell me what you think, hm?” Spoiler alert: there’s no way you’re telling him what you think, because fucking you speechless happens to be his specialty.

Experience? their level of experience

Factoring in Hina, Makio, and Suma, Tengen’s quite experienced. They don’t have foursomes too often (coordinating four schedules is a nightmare lmao), which actually benefits his sexual familiarity and comfortability, because 1-on-1 with three different women means plenty of consistent variety and opportunities to experiment/learn/grow. Toss you into the mix (they’re all very happy to get to love and be loved by you 🥰), and fivesomes are even rarer than the elusive foursome. Omitting Hina, Makio, and Suma? Tengen’s still experienced, but sexual experience doesn’t necessarily equate to emotional or romantic maturity. Does he know how to bring his sexual partners to world shattering climax? Yeah. Does he know how to nurture intimacy and depth beyond carnality? ~Eventually! He isn’t inherently closed off to the idea or concept of closeness — he just needs the right person (you, heh) to feel like taking that next step is worth his time, energy, and investment.

Foreplay?

Tengen LOVES foreplay, but he also LOVES penetrative sex, so it’s a perpetual, inner debate for him. 😖 Does he bask in the glory of you giving him head while he’s gaming with Kyojuro and Sanemi, or does he go afk (away from keyboard) to bend you over the bed and fuck you between rounds? 🤓 On that note, he prefers receiving, primarily because it’s easier for you to randomly suck his dick than it is for him to randomly perform cunnilingus. 11/10 has calender anniversary reminders for all the various places you’ve blown him i.e. 1/27 Bar Bathroom Blowjob 🍻; 4/19 Changing Room Blowjob 👕; 10/31 Halloween Party Blowjob 🎃. Besides blowjobs and cunnilingus, he’s a sorry sap for making out (when he supports the back of your head/neck and kisses you deeply UNF) and pinching your nipples until you’re begging him to play nice.

Goofy? their sense of humor

Ever seen movie/tv show bloopers where actors laugh while trying to film a serious/sad/etc scene? That’s Tengen during sex. He isn’t consciously silly, but his intensity/somewhat domineering attitude occasionally misses the mark. To his credit, he’s generally aware of your mood and what the ~vibe is, but sometimes all he wants to do is spank you—”Can you be good for me? Can you count? From one to ten, can you count out your punishment?”—and all you end up doing is giggling and sassing off: “Can I count from one to ten? Why, yes, yes I can!!!!!” *cue unstifled laughter* 🤪

Hair? pubes maintenance

Short of zero maintenance, Tengen has next to no preference about his pubic hair. If you want him clean shaven? He’ll do his best (shaving his balls only scares him ~a tad). If you appreciate ~some hair? He’ll literally have you sit on the bathtub beside him while he grooms, and rely on you to tell him when to stop. And if you also have next to no preference? He falls into a monthly trim routine.

Intimacy? their degree of intimacy

Sex with Tengen tends to lack toe curling intimacy. Your toes will certainly curl for other reasons, but he isn’t really a stare-into-my-eyes-as-I-whisper-sweet-nothings lover; he’s a, “Look at me while I fuck your pretty cunt,” firm thumb lifting up your chin, “I said look at me,” fucker. If you ask for more intimate sex, then he’ll certainly try his best, but all it takes is a few clenches of your walls around his cock—your eyes rolling backward, soft whine pushed from your chest, as he buries himself balls deep—for him to dissolve into his usual demanding demeanor.

Jack Off? masturbation

Including Hina, Makio, and Suma, he hardly ever masturbates. Sex isn’t a given—he doesn’t take anyone for granted, nor assume that someone’ll be available whenever he’s horny—but he doesn’t want any of you to feel rejected or neglected either. It’s a careful balance between respecting his right to privacy and personal time, as well as him not constantly declining sex because, “Oops, I already masturbated today.” Excluding Hina, Makio, and Suma, he tends to masturbate/initiate sex more days a week than not. If you aren’t in the mood, then he still checks in that you’re alright with him satisfying his needs alone, because again: he cares more about you feeling desired and taken care of than he cares about immediately fulfilling his sexual urges. He’s less so asking permission to masturbate, and more so ensuring nobody feels left out.

Kink? ~specific turn ons

Tengen enjoys shibari, but only when there’s enough time for it to be artistic and sexual. Bondage satisfies him too, but there’s a distinct difference between tying your wrists and ankles to four corners of a bed versus having you kneel and move in front of him as he creates fluid, silky knots and patterns across your body. Both forms involve you trusting him to a degree that riles and soothes his desires to control and protect you, just as both forms typically end with him cumming in your pussy, hands clutching your hips as he trembles, feeling his slick squelch out from the fullness of his cock inside you, balls soon sticky and messy. However, shibari is more meditative and collaborative—a mutual dance—whereas bondage leans toward leading and following—precisely choreographed (and he’s the choreographer). P.S. He’s definitely the type to own a sex swing. 😵‍💫

Location? where they prefer to have sex

When it comes to penetrative sex, Tengen prefers the bedroom (or living room) — nothing like knowing there’re solid walls to hold and fuck you against, as well as a soft and comfy bed (or couch) for less effortful/more creative positions — the bed/couch provides cushioning for potential falling/mishaps when trying something new. But oral sex? Tengen’s happy to receive a blowjob practically anywhere, anytime (so long as you’re comfortable). He’d much prefer he be caught with his pants down than you, and has likely had to laugh off one or two ~interruptions. 😅

Motivation? ~general turn ons

Modeling clothing and sleeping in his shirts! 😍 You could model a winter coat and snow pants, and Tengen would still be eager to “find” your breasts beneath the thick layers of polyester and fleece, as well as squeeze your now thoroughly padded ass. 🤪 And if you model lingerie, swimwear, or anything remotely revealing? He’s 100% chugging water and fanning himself, legs parting as he not so subtly grabs his crotch, “I think we need to do a sit test before you buy those,” while patting his thigh. Are some of his reactions exaggerated? Yeah. 😂 But does he do it all to hype you up and because he’s attracted to you? Also yeah. ☺️ On a different note, wear his clothing, and he’ll immediately offer to let you keep it for forever. “Wearing my shirt?” he grins slyly. “Mhm.” “Keep it,” he declares. Eyebrows raising, you tilt your head, “What?” “I just want you to have sweet dreams!” he winks. “And wearing your shirt…” “Will obviously grant you sweet dreams.” “Surrre,” you drawl, arms crossing amusedly. “Aaand you’re absolutely gorgeous.”

No? turn offs

Unless it’s with his cock, Tengen isn’t huge on breathplay. Light choking? Sure, if you ask nicely. But more serious breathplay? He’s just a little too informed about the dangers of cutting your brain off from oxygen to properly enjoy it. 😕

Oral? giver or receiver

Tengen prefers receiving oral sex, mostly because he can’t get over how stunning you look with his cock in your mouth. As beautiful as you look—and feel—cumming while his tongue flicks rapidly at your clit, it just isn’t the same from between your thighs; your head tilts backward, pretty eyes disappearing from view, legs suffocating him and his view. But you, tracing the tip of his cock with your glistening tongue, one hand shoved between your legs, the other clutching his thigh, struggling to balance bringing yourself to orgasm and coaxing shudders from him? That is a sight he’ll never tire of.

Position? their favorite position(s)

For cumming in your pussy, Tengen adores having you on top. Make no mistake—he’s happy and able to do most of the work (grabbing your hips and thrusting upward into your cunt)—there’s just no better way to watch your tits bounce. Make him suck on your fingers before playing with your nipples, and he’s liable to cum much sooner than anticipated. For cumming on your ass, Tengen doesn’t really care what position you’re in; he’s focused on chasing his orgasm and keeping his thrusts as hard and precise as possible. If you’re on your back, then he’ll simply flip you over when he needs to cum, impatiently waiting to paint a lil heart on your ass with his cum (he cums first, and then uses it as ~paint — his swollen tip’s the paintbrush). 

Quickie? a fan or not-a-fan

Tengen isn’t the hugest fan of quickies. He considers sex a privilege, an indulgence, an experience, and rushing it means less time to reach its potential. That being said, if he’s in the mood and there’s only time for a quickie, then he won’t hold off— he has the stamina to chase immediate gratification and enjoy his time (with you) ~later too. 😌

Risk? their risk tolerance

Despite his flashy persona, Tengen would rather partake in safe, “tame” sex than put his partner(s) at risk of bodily/emotional harm. Regarding himself, he’s less reserved. In other words, if someone’s going to be caught with their pants down, then he’d prefer it be himself than his partner(s). Even if you tell him, “Getting caught sucking someone’s dick can still be as embarrassing as getting caught having your dick sucked!” he’s unlikely to acknowledge his double standard — you’d really have to push to be the one undressing in a ~risky situation.

Stamina?

Tengen can go for hours, primarily because he can stave off cumming for hours. Sometimes you have to beg him to cum, as in, beg for him to cum, because your pussy’s swollen and sore and the copious amounts of lube aren’t enough anymore. “Tengen, please,” you whimper, mouthing weakly at his neck, body folded sweaty and exhausted atop his chest. “What is it?” he murmurs, only slightly breathless, slow thrusts continuing as he kneads your ass, “Please what?” “Please cum,” you groan, folds stinging from the relentless friction, “I swear if you don’t cum soon-” Smirking, he rocks his hips sharply upward, eyes closing as he drawls, “Then what?” “Then you’re pulling out and cumming in your fist.” That changes his pace real quick — best believe he’s cumming in your pussy, or not at all. As for his actual refractory period, he’s capable of multiple orgasms throughout the day, but the more he cums in a day, the more days he’ll need to recharge afterwards. 🪫

Toys?

Tengen may or may not dedicate a sizeable portion of his income to sex toys, especially factoring in Hina, Makio, and Suma. While he appreciates being called a Sex God™️, he’s a relatively humble god 🙃, and is fine acknowledging the usefulness and efficiency of dildos, vibrators, etc. He definitely researches options of intrigue before buying, and only purchases well reputed— oftentimes more expensive—toys. If any of you (“you” being Hina, Makio, Suma, and you) request a custom dildo of his penis, then you bet he’s making four of them!!!!! 😃 Why would he squander the opportunity to watch all four of his partners—all at the same time—fuck themselves with ~his cock? 😤 If you’re into anal sex, then he might splurge even further and make eight… because why would he squander the opportunity to watch all four of his partners—all at the same time—stuff all of their holes? Does this mean he’d technically need twelve if we’re counting mouths as well?

Unfair? how they feel about teasing/being teased

Tengen loooves teasing, but isn’t fond of being teased himself. 😬 You can tease him—he isn’t a jerk about it/won’t promptly shut you down—but he will flip the tables sooner rather than later. Verbal banter goes over better with him than physical playfulness, because it’s just too easy for him to manhandle you. If you’re dominant/switch leaning, then he’ll occasionally relinquish his reins, but doing so absolutely requires lengthy discussion and upfront negotiation/explanation (of your needs) prior.

Volume?

Tengen murmurs lowly and grunts loudly; a combination of seductive, filthy, and sometimes nonsensical dirty talk + guttural, staggered noises as he nears his climax. If he’s cumming multiple times in a day, then he’s definitely shouting, “Fuck, fuck, fuckfuck, FUUUUUCK!!!!!” by his last orgasm — similar to shouting through a difficult part of a workout, because cumming multiple times in a day is 😮‍💨.

Wild Card?

Tengen’s contemplated getting his dick pierced more than once, but hasn’t followed through with it because he’s afraid of the pain. Don’t get him wrong!!! 😠 He’s tough!!!!! 😡 Just not that kind of tough. 🫠

X-ray?

A show-er for sure, almost 8 inches when fully erect, and as thick as you’d expect (very). Proper preparation and lube are generally a must—another reason Tengen isn’t super into quickies—but he’s fairly straight with minimal veins, aka no wicked curves or texture that require further adjustment. The head of his cock is relatively small, so getting through the initial squeeze and fullness isn’t the hardest part; it’s a ~journey all the way down to his balls. 🤠

Yearning? sex drive

Goes through periods of initiating sex every other day to not feeling anything in particular about sex for like, a week. With four wives, that neutral period is important for resetting himself and getting shit done — taking care of himself + four partners sexually can take up a lot of time! Of course, you can obviously pleasure yourself + each other too (permutations, math, 5 numbers), and he’s more than content to watch—or hear about it later—when he’s not quite up for participating himself.

Zzz?

Instead of crashing immediately after sex, Tengen crashes immediately following aftercare. He has plenty of energy to go ~overboard with aftercare, and precisely no energy once he knows you’re both comfortably grounded and sated (if you let him, then he will cook you that three course meal mentioned in Aftercare, and he will start nodding off at the dining table once you’ve taken your last bite 🥱). He’s pretty indifferent about how you sleep after sex; just don’t roll over to the complete opposite side of the bed without even a pinky toe or finger touching him 🥲 — he’ll fall asleep thinking he’s upset you, but too tired to actually ask. 🥺😴