#warbli g

[mutasmutosarchive]

giving into the urge and gonna order my main boys dogtags when I get the chance,, so I can have them when I get my car and they go over my review mirror i love my wives

[charliemwrites]

Woof woof… whimper

(Part 10… but technically a continuation of part 9)

Content: Dub-Con/Non-Con, Knotting

It takes your cock-addled brain a second too long to process what Soap’s just said. What he’s implied. And by then he’s all ready for you to buck against him, confused and angry.

“That’s so — that’s not funny!” You shout.

But he’s got you pinned thoroughly, your chest flat against the mattress and your ass flush against his hips. His cock buried so deep you can feel the hot head of it bullying the deepest parts of you. All your struggling does is make you clench up tight around him, makes him feel that much bigger and meaner inside you. Makes him grunt low and ragged in your ear, all animal appreciation.

“I’m not laughin’,” he replies, nipping at your shoulder.

“G-get off of me, get out, get—”

His hand slides into your hair again, gets a firm hold at the roots and presses your face into the blankets, muffling your protests. Shushes you like soothing a panicked animal.

“Now, now,” he chides, “I still gotta prove I’m not compensating, don’t I?”

You suck in a breath, squeezing your eyes shut. There have to be a million explanations other than the absolutely ludicrous one he’s just presented to you. Cameras, microphones….

How did he know where you live?

How did he know where the spare key was?

How did he know where your bedroom was?

How did he find you at the bar?

Stalker, you tell yourself. He’s a creep, you’ve always known that.

Then where’s your dog?

“N-no,” you warble, bucking again. Nearly scream as his cock twitches inside you; only reason you don’t is because you can barely breathe as it is. He’s so deep inside that he’s practically in your lungs. “No way you’re my — there’s no way. You’re crazy. I’m gonna— ah!”

He draws out as you speak, gradual, and then plunges in again all at once, cutting you off. Grinds his hips in a dirty circle too, burying himself as deep as he can.

“Aww, poor thing,” he coos. “S’alright, baby, I knew this would happen. We jus’ gotta get all those big, scary feelings out first. Then I can explain it all nice and slow.”

You try to scream at him. Try to curse him out, tell him there’s no way in hell you’re listening to a word he says now; never mind letting him spend another second with his dick in you.

All that comes out is a high-pitched keen as he starts fucking you without further preamble. It aches, but you can’t tell in what way. If it hurts, if it’s the best you’ve ever had. Both? Your nerves feel haywire, brain dragged to lust-stupid depths.

“See, there we go,” he rasps, punctuating with a sharp snap of his hips on that last word. “My perfect little mate. Your cunt was made for my cock, made to be bred by me. Isn’t that right?”

You try to shake your head, but his grip keeps you from doing more than sending electricity down your spine, hair pulled taut.

“Yeah it fucking is,” he growls to his own question, canting your hips back further. His fingers grip cruelly into the flesh, sure to leave bruises. You wish you didn’t enjoy the sensation, wish it didn’t make you spasm around him helplessly.

“‘Bout time I owned you right back, don’t you think?” He continues, never stopping or even slowing. You yelp as he tugs your necklace again, arching your back at a steep angle. “Even collared yourself up for me. All it needs is my name.”

Something about that drives some awful, slutty part of your brain fucking wild. The idea of you with a tight leather choker — a collar — with his name (you don’t think about what name) hanging from your throat…

“Like that, don’t you?” He chuckles meanly. “Who’s my good little slut? Who’s my perfect, soaked little breeding whore?”

Tears spring to your eyes as you realize the “I am” is right there on the tip of your over-saturated tongue. If you had air, brain cells, any ability at all, you’d be crying it to the ceiling like the toy he’s treating you as.

He’s going to ruin you, you think. He’s going to fuck you broken. You’re crying and wailing on his cock, think you’d actually throw a tantrum if he pulled out and left you on the edge right now. Would, you realize in horror, beg for him to keep going.

And then he snakes his hand around your hip and starts rubbing your clit — fast, hard little circles. Just the way you like; the way you’d do it yourself. Relentlessly and cruel, even when you try to writhe away from how fast you can feel yourself getting to the edge. Almost frightened by it, how quickly he’s mastered your body’s pleasure.

Frightened by the extra stimulation at your entrance, too. A little extra friction at first — shocking because you’re leaving a puddle on the sheets. But then the friction becomes pressure, becomes… more.

“W-wha….?” You slur, hips wriggling.

Soap (Johnny?) snarls in your ear and that feeling at your entrance grows. Feels, you realize with alarm, like stretching.

“Gonnae take my knot so well,” he rambles, accent thick like syrup, trickling into your empty brain, filling you up with meaningless sounds. “Plug you up full of my cum, breed you right just like you need.”

Any questions or confusion are whisked away by the extra stimulation at your entrance. The sensitive nerves getting just as much brutal attention as your inner walls, your cervix, that sweet spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back.

It all becomes too much all at once and crashes through you, devastating. You clamp down around him tight and needy, lean all your weight back into his thighs. And he practically howls as he sinks into you and stays, grinding and humping without ever actually pulling out again. You feel a flood of heat that seems to go on for an absurdly long time, cock pulsing against your overstimulated walls, milked for every last drop.

You shudder as your brain tries and fails to process it all. Like trying to decipher a foreign language from white noise. It’s nothing but static to you.

You can feel a tongue against your shoulder, scraped of blunt teeth. Soap/Johnny licking the sweat from your skin and nipping bruises into the flesh. You make an annoyed noise that comes out whinier than intended, shoving at his face.

“Get off, you bastard.” Your voice is pathetic, thick with tears and fractured in a hundred places.

“Can’t, bonnie, even if I wanted to.”

You scowl, try to look at him over your shoulder. He takes that opportunity to nuzzle against your temple.

“What?” You ask. “What are you talking about?”

“Did ye hear me?” He chuckles. “Well, maybe not with the way you were screamin’. You’re all knotted up, baby. Can’t pull out — ‘less you want this pretty pussy to tear.”

You jolt, nearly yank yourself off out of pure fear, but Johnny keeps you still again, humming.

“Easy now,” he croons. “Still fussy? Need another to settle down?”

Useless as your brain may be, it recognizes what he means by “another one.” You think you might pass out.

“No,” you snap, petulant even to your own ears. “I want you to explain… explain everything.”

“Alright, hen. C’mere.”

He gently lays you out prone on the bed, then rolls you both on your sides. Hitches your leg up over his hip. You want to protest, but it helps the ache in your poor cunt.

“H-how are you still hard?” You pant, traitorous pussy twitching around him.

He growls in your ear, can feel him grinning against the lobe. “Will stay that way for a bit, lass. Don’ worry, you jus’ have to lay here all nice and still. Keep me warm while I explain things to you.”

And he does. How there are shapeshifters out there in the world, rare as they are. That he comes from a line of them. Recruited to military, as most of them are.

How he was on standard patrol when he smelled you for the first time.

“Like a wet dream, bonnie. Fertile. Spring. Smelled like mine.”

How he instantly knew you were his mate. That he just needed to make you see it. Never a good time to explain it all to you — and then there were interlopers and your silly little books and your pesky toys. How he tried to drop hints around the house, let you come to the correct conclusion on your own. But you never did.

“Honestly it’s a good thing I’m here, hen. You’re so oblivious. Lived with a man and never even knew it.”

That he tried to go about it the other way ‘round, as a man, but you’re just so stubborn. And then how it all led up to tonight. To you finally, finally realizing what you really needed: your mate.

You should be angry, furious. There’s a lot to say about… well, all of it. It’s horrifying and violating and… and…

And he hasn’t stopped bullying your clit since he started talking. Cruel, tight circles. Drawing the hood back with two fingers and stroke with a third, slow and languid and just soft enough to make your head spin. Rhythmless taps. Even pinches when you try to chew him out at one point, half turning to scowl. Instead have his tongue lapping sloppily at yours as your mouth gapes open soundlessly.

Makes you cum twice just like that without ever interrupting his own story, cock still hilted — knotted deep inside you. Honestly, you probably miss a good portion of it, some of the finger details for sure. But you get the broad strokes (among other strokes).

He licks at your overstimulated tears when he’s finished, nuzzling and kissing your cheek.

“I-I miss my dog,” you mumble finally, hands balled against your chest.

“Aww, darlin’,” he sighs, sounding genuinely apologetic. “We’re one and the same. I’m always your boy no matter what form I take.”

It would be more comforting if his dick didn’t throb calling himself your boy.

“‘Sides, I’m better than a normal mutt,” he continues, tugging you against his chest. You want to hate that is instantly makes you feel a little better. “Wolves mate for life, after all.”

First | Previous | 1fur1

Masterlist

[bucknastysbabe]

What do they know?

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1,306

Tags: Pnv!sex, rough sex, outdoors SEX, exhibitionism-ish, Big Dick Bucky Barnes, getting absolutely railed on vacay 10/10, college!au, undernegotiated stuff but they work it out, praise kink, sweet sweet idiot babey Buck, Steve isn’t a virgin but is also an idiot with the rest of the quartet

A/N: This jumped out the ether whoopsie doodle I needed to pretend I actually got to do spring break in college. Don’t play collegiate tennis

Bucky had you pinned up against the side of the house, only hidden by a shower curtain. With his cock shoved deep inside of you, throbbing and hot. One of his huge arms was cradled under your ass to hold you up. It almost made you cum right there thinking about his strength.

Bucky had you pinned up against the side of the house, only hidden by a shower curtain. With his cock shoved deep inside of you, throbbing and hot. One of his huge arms was cradled under your ass to hold you up. It almost made you cum right there thinking about his strength.

But you had to be quiet. Although everyone knew you two were missing from the house. Actually, Bucky had made it his personal goal to fuck you in the most inappropriate places on the spring break trip. You didn’t know about this exhibitionist side of the usually shy member of the friend group.

He moved his hips slightly, thick member dragging against you maddeningly. You stifled your moan, a thin whimper coming out instead. He had your cunt split in half— another fact you weren’t aware of until Bucky decided to ask you out. The guy’s dick was huge, veiny, and should be immortalized in dildo form.

The brunette was grinning ear to ear, blue eyes dark with lust. He cooed, “That’s a good girl- we don’t want anyone to hear do we?” You bit your lip and shook your head, eyes fluttering shut. Bucky tapped your cheek with his other hand, chiding, “No, no, look at me baby.” He pulled out some— the tip of his cock dragging against your sweet spot.

Trembles ran down your thighs, another quiet whimper falling out. You tucked your head into his beefy shoulder, panting, “C’mon, stop playing Buck.” He laughed meanly in return, fucking back into you with a wet slap.

“If I stop playing you’ll start screaming again,” he said all casual, like he wasn’t balls deep inside your pussy.

You were frustrated. It wasn’t enough, you were throbbing and achy and Bucky had been toying with you for about thirty minutes now. He even turned the shower off so you really had to be quiet. Steve was around the corner on the porch, you could hear his footsteps.

Hot tears welled up in your eyes, you blinking instinctively. Bucky stopped smiling, his thick brows knitting together in concern. He carefully pulled your gaze back to him with a big hand wrapped around the side of your face. Your boyfriend asked, “Hey, wait, what’s wrong?”

You whispered, more of a quiet warble, “You’re being mean.” Another annoyed tear ran down your cheek, Bucky swiping it away. He pressed a couple of kisses to the side of your face and whispered, “I’m sorry baby, shit, do you wanna cum now?”

You nodded deliriously, mouth falling open to chant little ‘pleases’.

“Okay, okay, fuck, you better cry for another reason,” Bucky sighed, pressing his forehead to your own.

He slid in and out slowly at first, the obvious noises of people fucking out loud. It made you blush to hear him inside you, begging to turn the shower back on. Bucky cursed but obliged. Once the droplets were raining onto the ground again, the brunette began to roughen his pace.

Your arms around his neck stiffened, nails digging into tanned flesh. His cock was back impossibly deep again, battering against your g-spot and grazing your cervix. You’d never had that happen before and it was causing an intense sensation to build between your thighs.

“Bucky- Bucky, oh my god!,” you whined into his pink lips. He pressed them against your open mouth, swallowing up your noises eagerly. His other hand dropped down to your ass, slapping his hips harder and harder. You felt like a ragdoll, unable to do anything but take it.

You babbled into the hot kisses, scrabbling desperately at his back. Bucky moaned softly, “God you feel so good, being so good, fuck,” his eyes closed before he praised, “Best babydoll ever.” You gathered enough wits to kiss the sweet boy back at that.

More pressure built up in your lower belly from his fucking monster dick catching every sensitive spot in your cunt. He was all fast shallow thrusts now, so much friction your eyes rolled up. Your breath was coming in hitched sobs, calling his name on every other breath.

Bucky’s breathing was ragged against your open mouth, blue eyes blown wide. He grunted with exertion, beginning to twitch inside of you. He crooned against your lax lips, “I know baby, I know, it feels s’good don’t it?” His honeyed tone struck you hard, you mewling pathetically, tears welling up once more.

“C’mon- know you’re close pretty girl.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. Bucky dug his hips in deep, striking your innermost walls just right. You wailed his name, unable to bite back the overwhelming ecstasy. Bucky clamped his hand down on your mouth with a surprised gasp. He growled into your ear, “Goddamn babygirl you can’t do that to me- shshit!”

Bucky sought out his release, gasping and straining for purchase as your cunt milked him. You blubbered behind his hand, orgasm crashing down like a ton of bricks on you. The brunette twitched and whined your name so, so sweetly as he emptied into your pussy.

The pair of you didn’t move for what seemed like an eternity, sucking in breath under the stream of the outdoor shower. Bucky slid out of your abused cunt— both of you wincing. He let you down gentle, steadying you with those big hands. Your legs were shaky and like a newborn foal with the way you stumbled and leaned into Buck’s broad chest.

He smiled down dopily, eyes soft. Bucky rumbled, “Well there’s no way they don’t know what we were up to— you okay babydoll?” His thumbs circled at your waist, a reassuring gesture. You nodded and rasped, “Yeah you ass. You’re carrying me to the bed.”

He grinned widely, teeth shining as he laughed. Your boyfriend peered around, grabbing the earlier discarded swimsuits from behind. Bucky teased, “Almost forgot,” he bent down to help you slide on the one-piece, “I want you to tell me if you’re not okay, promise?”

You nodded, pulling a strap onto your shoulder. Bucky pulled on his trunks, you almost sad to see him clothed again. Pressing a kiss to his still-pulsing neck you replied, “I will- honestly jus’ never been fucked like that.”

“No? Never?”

You shook your head, “Nope. Either drunk hookups or plain missionary where I didn’t cum.”

Bucky’s eyes lit up possessively, him sealing his lips over yours with a soft lick. He pulled back and gushed, “No way- so I’m the first who made you cum?” You rolled your eyes and palmed his softening cock.

“Hard not to with this thing,” you said with a wink, “But yes, Barnes, you are the one and only.”

Bucky kissed you again, smiling helplessly. You wrapped tired arms around his waist and returned the favor. Both of you pulled back and hollered when the shower curtain jerked open with a SCHINK.

A smug Sam and blushing Steve stood on the other side, Nat peered from around the corner from the deck with a knowing look. Sam boasted, “Told you! They been in there way too long!”

Natasha added, “Seriously Steve you’re too pure for your own good!”

Bucky glared at Sam, shoving the fellow junior in the chest. His other arm was still clung tight around your frame. You deadpanned, “Did y’all really have a bet going on?” Steve sputtered, “Yes- look- dammit!”

Clint’s voice came in next, “Did Steve figure out Barnes was plowing our goody-two-shoes?”

Bucky made a face and an annoyed scoff. You started laughing deliriously, frankly high off the rush of the orgasm. Rogers shook his head and returned to the porch along with a cackling Sam. Bucky palmed the back of his head, sheepishly giving you a look. You playfully tugged on his wet hair.

“You’re still gonna carry me right babe?”

[estrellami-1]

Steddie Microfic

March prompt: pin

Word count: 388

No warnings apply

Rated G

@steddiemicrofic

“Tammy Thompson,” Robin chokes out.

It’s quiet enough that, if Steve had a pin and dropped it, he wouldn’t just hear it hit the ground; he’d hear the slightest whisper as it parts the air.

“Oh,” he whispers dumbly, trying to process. Why would she- when he-

He realizes, distantly, that oh isn’t really an answer, and Robin would probably really appreciate the reassurance that he’s not going to hate her, so he blurts out, “But she sounds like a muppet!”

He immediately regrets it, then regrets it a little less when she laughs, half-offended. “She does not!”

“Does too!” He argues, and proceeds to demonstrate, warbling out an excerpt from Bonnie Tyler.

He ends up scooting under the stall divider because legs are still just a concept and he needs her to know something immediately, needs to see her face when he tells her. “I didn’t notice,” he says nonsensically, since the conversation has well and truly moved on at this point. At her furrowed brows, he clarifies, “I didn’t notice her looking at me.” He takes Robin’s hands in his, squeezes gently. “Because I was always looking at him.”

Robin’s a genius, so she gets it a lot faster than he did the first time around. Her eyes are saucer-wide as she gasps out, “Who?”

Steve bites his lip, feels oddly shy as he confesses. “Eddie Munson.”

Her jaw drops. “Munson? You’re telling me you were ragging on Tammy Thompson when you have a thing for Munson?”

“Yeah, and?” Steve argues back.

“He’s a total nerd! That’s, like, the opposite of you!”

“And?”

“And he stepped in my lunch!”

Steve opens his mouth, realizes he has no rebuttal, and shuts it. “Sorry?” He offers.

She snorts out a laugh and drops her head to his shoulder. “You are never allowed to tease me about my preference when you’re crushing on Eddie Munson.”

Since Steve’s brain only works about forty-eight percent of the time, he mindlessly blurts out, “I’m not crushing on him.”

“You’re not? You just can’t keep your eyes off of him? How’s that any different?”

Steve nibbles his lip again, mutters to himself, “I’m in for a hell of an apology,” then sighs and goes for it. “I’m not crushing on Eddie because I’m dating him.”

“Oh,” Robin says, and Steve laughs.

“Yeah. Oh.”

[pinkanonwrites]

HANDS-ON LEARNING

Read 'Handle With Care' here!

Rodimus/Human Reader, NSFW, First Contact AU, AFAB Reader, GN Pronouns, G/T, Experimental Sex, Fingering, Oral (Receiving)

Since this is a First Contact fic, dialogue that is both bold and italicized are words that both the reader and Rodimus understand.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

Of all the ideas you'd had over the course of your life, this had to be one of the worst.

Granted, it wasn't as bad as trying to follow the blinking light into the woods after your car broke down, only to end up abducted by aliens. But it was pretty high up there.

But between said abduction and your ensuing rescue by the gigantic alien robots and the spaceship they called home, you hadn't exactly had a lot of time to yourself. And after days melted into weeks and you eventually began to lose track of how long it had been since you had been plucked from Earth, you were starting to get a little… wound up.

Most days were spent in between the massive metal fingers of a robot that you were pretty sure was named Rodimus as he shuttled you from room to room and presented you to his fellow crew members like a first-grader showing off their new pet hamster. But despite the glaring communication barrier and the ever-present threat of being squashed under foot, Rodimus was very careful with you. He made sure you were safe and comfortable, never picked you up without letting you know ahead of time, and did his best to communicate simple thoughts and ideas with you through hilarious, size-difference charades. It could be a little awkward sometimes, but he was nice! It was nice.

And then, about a week ago, Rodimus accidentally made you cum so hard you almost blacked out. And you couldn't stop thinking about it.

But honestly, how were you supposed to stop thinking about it? Sure, it was an accident, (or you were pretty sure it was, at least. Giant robot charades isn't always a perfect system) but it was an accident that refused to leave your mind. When Rodimus would lay on his big slab of metal to sleep, or recharge his batteries, or whatever it was that giant robots did at bedtime, you'd be lying awake in the little habitat he'd built for you out of his desk craving the sensation of sitting on the world's best and most attentive washing machine and letting the vibrations spark stars behind your eyelids.

So maybe it was a bit stupid, and horny, and frankly desperate to search out that feeling again from a guy four times your size who could crush you in his hand like a grape if he ever wanted to. But God damn if it wouldn't be worth it.

So that's how you found yourself in the position you are now. Naked, sprawled back against the surface of the desk with one of Rodimus's massive hands cradling your upper body, and a giant finger from the other tracing up the inner curve of your thigh. He seemed almost enchanted by the way your goosebumps rippled to the surface beneath his touch, letting out a pleased, mechanical warble.

He seemed to adore your softness compared to the rigid metal of his own skin, as Rodimus liked to squish you quite a bit. Never enough to hurt, just enough to feel the warm press of your skin between the joints of his fingers and hands, or to drag a curious fingertip down your cheek. But there was a particular meekness with the way he touched you right now, like he was only just realizing how easy it would be for him to hurt you. It was painfully sweet, and if you weren't absolutely aching for something more right now you may have been content to let him continue his gentle fondling.

"C'mon, big guy." You murmured instead, resting your hand around his wrist and pulling him up closer to the apex of your thighs. He let out a soft, surprised revving sound at your boldness, glancing at your face a few times before finally pressing the top of his finger up between your thighs, lying flush against your folds. If you had to compare the sensation, you'd say the feeling of leaning a little too far forward on a motorcycle seat was similar. It was warm, rumbling, pressing up against all the right places, but not quite enough to get you anywhere you really wanted. Still, you couldn't stifle your shaky moan, and that seemed to really get him going.

"Yes?..." He all but purred, one of the few words you had actually managed to learn between the two of you. The pointed chevron of his brow seemed to quirk up a bit on one side as he glanced down at his thick finger between your legs before back up to your gaze.

"Yes. It's good, I just… want more." You knew he couldn't understand your words, but the slow roll of your hips and the slick coating of your arousal over his knuckle seemed to get the message across just fine. He rocked his finger up against you, wet with your drooling heat as the jut of the joint slid up and over your clit again, and again, and again. Still slow, yes, but almost painfully good. Your hips jerked towards the sensation and he cooed, engine rumbling louder to course vibrations up through your aching cunt.

He murmured your name, or the best that he could approximate in his echoey, mechanical trill. From the hand cradling your upper body his massive thumb slid forward, dragging along the curve of your jaw and down to the jut of your collarbone with a delicate curiosity. Panting, you let yourself melt into his touch, rolling your hips against his other hand and shuddering at every other press that seemed to hit just the right spot. Fuck, this was good. Better than good, you felt like your brain was going to melt out of your ears, molten heat pooling low in your stomach as a pleasant buzz of arousal seemed to crawl through your muscles and out to the tips of your fingers and toes. It was probably way too early to be cumming, but you'd been pent-up for far too long already and the relentless vibrations only pushed you higher and higher, a rubber band threatening to snap as you gasped and shuddered and tossed your head back against Rodimus's enormous metal palm.

It was all you could do to keep your feet from kicking out as your orgasm washed over you, the aching clench of your cunt around nothing making you whine as his fingers slowed to a lazy, comfortable stroking. You blinked blearily up at him, a look of incredibly sly pride on his face as you went limp and content in his palm.

"Fuck, Rodimus." You groaned. It startled you, the sheer volume of his engine's snarl in response to your simple, fucked-out sigh of his name. But more surprising was the sudden press of two blunt fingers against your messy hole, slippery with your own arousal as they tried to work their way into you. "W-Wait! Rodimus, fuck, it's not gonna fi-MMGH!?"

With a wet pop, the tips of his two massive fingers slipped into your still-twitching cunt, stretching you wider than you'd ever been before. Even one of his fingers was more than big enough for you, but he somehow fit two? Your entire body trembled as you flopped back, slave to the impossible stretch and press of unrelenting metal against your most sensitive spots. Whimpers and groans were forced from your body with each minute flex and press of his fingers deeper, deeper, scraping spots you could never reach with your own two hands and stuffing you so full you felt like you couldn't breathe in properly. The heat that had only just receded was building again, impossibly quick, a tingling jolt underneath your skin that made the muscles of your legs twitch and kick outside of your own control as your mind struggled between spearing yourself further on this impossible stretch or wriggling helplessly away.

He was talking again, an incomprehensible clutter of mechanized boops and whirrs that you only barely managed to process in your pleasure-drunk mind. Then, with a sudden rush of motion and swoop of your stomach with the G-force, you were cradled off of the table with his free hand and held up to his face. There was a glow to his cheeks, a bead of liquid trailing down the side of his helmet as he gazed down at you. Robots could blush? And sweat? Apparently this one could, a gush of warm heat rolling over your body as he huffed, mouth hanging slightly open. Behind his giant teeth you could see a peek of a silver-grey tongue, a rippling smooth expanse of rubber and metal-mesh that crept towards you until Rodimus dragged it oh-so-carefully up the length of your cunt.

"FUCK!" You wailed, hands scrabbling for purchase against the joints and bends of Rodimus's hand as he swept his massive tongue between your folds. He let out a low, growling groan at the taste, burying his face between your thighs as he stroked and massaged your pulsing clit with the tip of his tongue. His fingers kept working, curling up towards your stomach on each thrust as you sobbed, abandoning your grip on his hand to clutch to the yellow chevron on his brow like your life depended on it. Your head was swimming, buzzing so intensely with heat that you could barely form a thought beyond the deep, impending well of your next orgasm. It pulsed from so deeply within you, a relentless wall of pleasure rushing towards you faster than you could prepare yourself for. All you could do was cling desperately to Rodimus's brow and hold on for the ride, sobbing and gasping and shivering as it crept ever higher, warmth blossoming out from your cunt and crawling across your shaky frame as pleasure exploded behind your eyelids. You wailed his name again, barely comprehensible, as each press of his fingers forced a gush of slick from your quivering hole and spattered into his giant palm. As quickly as it came his tongue swept it gently away, fingers slowing and letting out a low, melodic hum as your wails and moans trailed off into soft, sniffly whimpers. Finally, finally, after what felt like an eternity but couldn't have been more than a minute at most, he began to lower you carefully back down onto the desk, thumb rubbing a tear from your cheek as he pulled his fingers from your puffy, overworked cunt.

He cooed your name again, cradling your body in both palms. "Good?" He murmured, warmth from his metal palms seeping directly into your sweaty skin and aching muscles. You heaved another shaky breath, unable to form words so you instead shot the giant mech a wavering thumbs-up. In any other scenario that may have been a cripplingly embarrassing response to what was possibly the best orgasm of your life, but it pulled a beaming smile to Rodimus's face regardless.

In a few minutes the tacky feel of slick and sweat and robot saliva drying on your skin would begin to border on intolerable, and you knew you'd eventually have to rise to fawn-like legs and stumble to clean yourself up. But for now you were more than happy to lay sprawled in your giant companion's grasp.

Hell, maybe he'd even help you take a bath, too. After all, it's not like you had anything left to hide.

[treason-and-plot]

Mia tells herself that she’ll convince Kaleb to break up with her after they’ve had sex… and if she can’t find the right opportunity, then definitely in the next 48 hours! She’s even fabricated the perfect story, concocted as Kaleb is driving them to his beach house in his silver Mustang, John Mayer warbling from the stereo… her long-lost Parisian lover, Pablo, has contacted her again after ghosting her several years ago, and has told her that he wants to resume their affair! It’s foolproof. Mia’s eyes mist over thinking about the real Pablo, his stoic jaw covered in blue-black stubble, about his thick veiny cock and superhuman stamina, and she hopes fervently that he is still employed as Renny’s chauffeur. It makes sense that she breaks up with Kaleb, Raj is right. She lifts her eyes heavenward in fond exasperation. Raj is always right.

“Did I tell you how desirable you look tonight?” Kaleb tells her once they are inside his living room, smiling at her with hypnotised, heavy-lidded eyes. She can smell the clean fresh linen of his shirt and the salty tang of his skin, and she nearly groans aloud, her insides starting to turn to liquid. She’s spent an inordinate amount of time trying to analyse what it is about Kaleb that has such a powerful effect on her; maybe it's nothing more complicated than good old fashioned sexual chemistry, because her primary feeling towards him is annoyance. But maybe the fact that he’s annoying is the very reason the sex is so hot? She's not hung up on wanting to please him because she couldn’t give a crap whether he’s satisfied or not, and as a result she's selfishly free to relax and focus on nothing but her own enjoyment. Or maybe it's because her annoyance creates a kinky power imbalance between them. Maybe the reasons are purely physical, and his dick is just the right shape and curvature to massage her G-spot. Whatever. In 48 hours it's not going to matter anymore.

(On second thoughts, maybe it wouldn't be unreasonable to extend that deadline to 72 hours?)

[tojigasm]

i give you…brat tamer jake 🤲🏻😫

Jake is so patient and he's always afraid of going a bit too rough on you so I think that if you ever pushed him enough to get him into a brat taming mood it'd be like smoking so much you start getting a little nervous 😭

"Done fuckin' around?" The grip around your jaw shoots heat to your core, cunt clenching around the girth of Jake's cock

He's pushed to the hilt inside of you. Balls throbbing against the fat of your ass, your thigh thrown over his own.

You're nearly limp in his hold, eyes lidding when he pulls out before sinking into you again. Voice warbly, you can only sob at the weight of him, tears bubbling over your cheeks with a choked "Haa... ahh."

Jake clicks his tongue at your sloppy appearance, "Wanna keep it up?"

Shaking your head with a sob, your eyes focus on the buldge of his cock in your tummy before you're being ripped away by his hand on your jaw again.

"Eyes up here, kid." He hisses, running the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, pressing his digit into your mouth as he begins to rut into you.

You're crying around his finger, small hands digging into the thick of his calves. A ring of white rests at the base of his cock, cum spilling onto the cushion beneath you.

Jake narrows his eyes when you whine, pulling his thumb from your mouth, "stop it," he cups your cheeks together with his hand again, "where's my good girl, huh?"

You're too tired to talk back, too fucked out to respond when his cock's dragging against your g-spot so deliciously you could cum. So you settle for a soft cry, nodding at him through heavy sobs, "m'sorry– ah!" Jake's balls slap against your slicked folds, "m'sorry, m'sorry," you chant, voice cracking with every sobbed plea.

"Oh, I bet you are." Jake scoffs, prying your jaw open with a hiss, spitting into your mouth, "you're lucky m'even fucking you right now."

And you know you are, gummy walls clenching around his girth at the reminder and he slaps your thigh, pinching the sensitive skin when you gasp.

"Be good and maybe I'll let you cum."

[kentocidal]

10:34PM || SAWAMURA DAICHI

users: sawamura daichi x fem!afab!reader

cws: marathon sex. daddy kink. dacryphilia. size kink. prone bone. use of stoplight system check-in. selfship coded.

from the program: whoops.

daichi sawamura has a lot of energy. he used to be an athlete, now working in a high-intensity position as a firefighter. his body, though not as lean as it used to be back in high school, is still muscular and well built. he moves like water, adrenaline on high when his phone pings and he gets up from the dinner table to rush to a fire call. despite being older now, he still contains that boyish energy, a part of him that takes a long time to extinguish. he does not get tired easily.

this directly translates into his sex life with you.

daichi holds you up by your hips and fucks into you with a fervor that should be incriminating. his cock is thick and hefty in comparison to his average length. you feel like you’re ripping in half every time the tip of his cock presses into your g-spot and fills you to the brim.

his balls slap against your twitching clit, overstimulation having already been pushed through your veins as he works you towards another orgasm. he can feel it in the way your thighs shake and your cunt clenches around the length of his cock, and he sucks in pants through his gritted teeth.

“c’mon baby, again, do it again for me.”

you’d already cum once, a frothy ring making the bedroom fill with wet sounds as his cock gets coated in your spend. he didn’t stop, and he clearly won’t, not until he’s satisfied and you’re fucked out of your mind.

“daddy-!” you cry into your pillows with a half-sob, nails curling into the sheets so hard you fear you might tear the fabric. he’d assured you, once, that he bought high thread count sheets so you could claw at them and they’d never rip. or maybe he was finding excuses to spoil you, since you always denied his attempts to do so.

you felt the telltale sign of your impending orgasm suddenly start spreading through your stomach, and you gasped before letting out a guttural moan as your high crashed into you like a bus. you shook, knees giving out from under you. daichi was there to keep his cock buried deep in your convulsing cunt by wrapping a thick arm around your waist, groaning from the feeling of you around him.

“thaaat’s it, babygirl. that’s daddy’s good girl, perfect. much better.”

your blood roared in your ears as he slowly lowered your body down to the mattress, your sheets feeling damp to the touch. it was probably from how sweaty you both were, not that you had the capacity to care after the mind-numbing orgasm you just had.

you heard the sniffles before you felt them, the wet tracks of tears starting to cool against your cheeks. you weren’t sad, far from it, and yet your body was reacting to the strong wave of emotion and feeling.

“daddy,” you whined out, dragging out the ‘y’ at the end, and daichi groaned low in his throat.

you felt his cock jump in your heat, still buried deep, and it made you whimper loudly.

“you okay baby? you crying over daddy’s cock?”

“i-…” you couldn’t find words, not when daichi was suddenly laying over your back and planting the balls of his feet on the mattress. his one hand found the back of yours and slotted his fingers between your own, holding your hand down to the pillows; the other shifted to swipe your tears away with his thumb.

“color?”

“g-green,” you hiccuped, and you almost immediately felt the slow drag of daichi’s cock pulling back before bullying its way back in. you punched out a warbled moan; he had you flat against the mattress, humping into you like a man starved. he was so big — he felt like a weighted blanket over your back and it made you almost feel tiny in comparison to his broad shoulders and softened stomach.

he still hadn’t cum.

“again. just one more. again.”

it would not be just one more. you prayed it wouldn’t be just one more.

[mutasmutosarchive]

Mmmm God I love him so much,, pretty boy with blue eyes... He's my baby

[kibblz-n-bitz]

Tied Up

Summary: Zoro gives you devious backshots

Warnings: Dom Zoro, Mean Zoro, But he checks up on you afterwards, (because he's a true softie at heart), Edging, Restraints, a bit of mind break, rough sex

Words: 841

You yelp as you feel his rough palm collide with your ass.

"Go on," Zoro lands another hit, "Show me how badly you want my cock."

A sob erupts from your mouth as you shift on your knees clumsily, trying desperately to fuck yourself back on Zoro's thick length. It's sloppy and uncoordinated, it's hard to find a rhythm with your hands tied behind your back. You end up cockwarming him, his cock twitching and leaking precum against your walls. You whimper, "Z-Zoro-hh"

Another smack! "Try again."

"Daddy," You warble, desperate to cum. "Please... haah-... please fuck me Daddy please." You squirm against your restraints, against the rope tied around your wrists.

Zoro chuckles darkly at the sight of you. You look pathetic. Moaning and writhing on his cock, your pussy fluttering around his length. He's decided he's teased you long enough, if his leaking cock had anything to say about it. He was just as desperate to cum as you were. It's just... he loved the way you looked when you were fucked stupid, begging for his cum.

Zoro clicks his tongue. "Poor thing..." He sighs mockingly. He reaches down to brush your hair out of your face. You sniffle and look back at him, teary eyed. "You want daddy's cock that badly, huh?"

Whining, you nod, your words failing you. The swordsman had brought you to the brink of orgasm only to pull out and leave you a sobbing mess, repeating the process multiple times. Your brain was fried, only able to babble nonsense or beg for Zoro to have mercy on you. Especially now, with your wrists tied together, you were helpless.

Zoro shushes you, running a hand along your backside soothingly. Surprisingly kind despite nature of your actions. It doesn't last long though, not when he grabs you from where your hands are tied together, pulling you back on his length. You moan like a bitch in heat.

The swordsman wears a wolfish grin as he starts fucking you. Your mind goes blank and your eyes roll back into your head, you're finally being fucked the way you want. The tip of Zoro's cock hits the deepest parts of you, kissing your cervix each time he bottoms out.

"Filthy fuckin' whore." Zoro grunts, huskiness in his voicr giving away the amount of pleasure he was feeling too. "Y're so desperate. Betcha love getting fucked stupid on my cock, huh?"

You twitch in oversensitivity as he knocks your g spot with each thrust. Squirming, you try and lean away from the overwhelming pressure. Zoro growls at that, giving you a harsh tug on your restraints at the same time as he lands a particularly harsh thrust. You cry out, pussy clenching down on his cock.

"Quit runnin'." Zoro grunts. He lands another swat at your ass. "You asked for it, so fuckin' take it."

And take it, you do. You could feel your climax approaching as quickly as it faded last time. And, judging by the way he switched from quick, shallow thrusts to long, deeper ones- you were sure Zoro knew it too. Your pussy fluttered, clenching and squeezing around his cock, you were fit to burst.

Leaning down to nip at your ear, Zoro rumbles. "Y'gonna cum?" You sob, nodding and drooling against your pillow. His earrings clink together as he fucks into you. "So pathetic. You can go ahead, but I'm not stopping."

Zoro's rough words combined with the barely-there stimulation of his balls hitting your pussy have you screaming, your legs kicking out underneath you. Zoro groans as your pussy tightens, squeezes, and then gushes around his cock. However he stays true to his word and fucks you through it, barely giving you time to come down from your state of euphoria. "Fuck... That's it- hnnh"

You're whining as you tremble in overstimulation, pussy quivering. The added wetness from your orgasm drips against your sheets. Your chest is heaving as you try to catch your breath. Drool drips from your mouth onto your pillow. Your eyes are hazy, unfocused; mind blissfully blank.

Your world shifts and suddenly your flipped onto your back, hands free and legs wrapped around the man above you. He kisses you deeply, passionately, but you're clumsy in reciprocating the act. He pulls back as he rubs his angry red tip through your soaked folds.

"Checking in." He brings a hand to your face, tilting our head up. You look him in the eyes. "You okay?"

You stretch your arms, and nod, bringing them up to wrap around his neck. With a pleased sigh you kiss at his face, and he chuckles. A pleased grumble vibrates from his chest. "Good." He kisses your face again. "Such a good slut for me."

With that, he pushes his fat cock into you again, wasting no time in resuming his earlier pace. He nips and sucks at your throat. You moan and tug at his hair, overwhelming pleasure and warmth coursing through your veins.

"Take it like the good little slut you are, yeah?"

[morganas-pendragons]

Rage, Rage (Against the Dying of the Light) | 10th

a n g s t.

The first time you ask him, he doesn’t answer. He sweeps you away with his charms and promises about galaxies and universes untold that so little humans get to experience for themselves.

You let it slide. Just this once. You’re intrigued enough by his eyes, those eyes that cause you to ask one singular question that will plague you the rest of time you travel with him:

What happened to you?

The second time you ask him, he gets angry. Rage is built into the very foundation of who The Doctor is as a person. It doesn’t matter that he’s Timelord. He still experiences the same kind of anger that humans do.

His, however, stems from his own choices. His own actions that caused the genocide of a people that this universe will never experience again.

Given what little he’s told you, you’re fine with that. You’re better off without the Timelords. Without the Timelords and the trauma they’ve obviously caused this man.

“What happened to you?”

You ask it in hushed tones, careful not to provoke a reaction. You do anyway. You don’t even flinch when he yells. When he asks why it’s any of your business to begin with. It’s quite rare to see him unravel.

You wonder what would happen if you unraveled him entirely.

“Why does it matter!?”

And oh, how sad your gaze must look. “Because you matter, Doctor. You’ve always mattered. Especially to me. I think you get so stuck inside your own head that you often forget that.”

You leave him to the solitude of his console room after that. It takes him a week before he’s confident enough to approach you again.

The shattering of broken things still echoes even then.

***

The third time you ask it, he answers. It is only in the wake of the TARDIS forcing you into the empty hallways that you trudge forward and right into the doorway of his bedroom.

You had just slipped into sleep yourself. After a long week of contemplation and thorough detail - which mostly consisted of you writing and writing and writing as much as possible - of your adventures with him, you were seriously considering leaving.

You can’t help people who don’t want to be helped.

“Little love?” You call out weakly to the TARDIS, who warbles at your response as you stand idly in the doorway of the Doctor’s dimly lit bedroom. “Why did you bring me here?”

Your question is answered by the ragged sound of the Doctor's breathing. You can barely see him in the light of the bedroom - his bedroom - but it would be dificult to miss that gasping, wet sound of his breathing he's trying to get back under control.

The question whispers itself again in your ear as you approach: What happened to you?

He flinches as if he has been burned the moment your hand makes contact with the nape of his neck. It takes The Doctor a moment to realize who has entered his bedroom, and his entire being melts at the realization it is simply you sitting beside him. It's the first time he's seen you in a week. He deserves your scorn. Your wrath.

Instead you ask again, in hushed tones, "What happened to you, Doctor?"

And this time, he tells you. He allows himself to succumb to the weakness of desiring another persons touch and leans into your arms as you hold him until the tears abate.

"There was a war. The last great Time War.."

The Doctor does not need to know that you had intended on leaving. He does not need to know the way your heart harbors such fear of him, but such sorrow for him, and he surely does not need to know how you see right through him.

All he needs to know for now is that you are there.

And it will be enough.

***

The fourth time it is asked, it is him who asks you. You have your bag packed and slung over your shoulder where you stand in the doorway of the TARDIS. Enough had been enough. You would not be second choice, and you certainly would not allow him to use you as his emotional crutch.

Even if he didn't intend to.

The Doctor swallows the knot in his throat and opens his mouth to ask, "What happened to you?"

The look you give him sends chills down his spine. That is not a look any of his companions have given him. You love him, sure, but you will not allow that to be the reason you suffer through this any more. The look you are giving him is one of pure ice.

And it is that ice that further moves to encroach itself upon his heart. As is always the way when he travels alone. He may burn at the center of the universe and humanity may always see him as a God, but even Gods are cruel.

The Doctor may be the cruelest you've ever known.

With one final glance at him, you reply, "You did." before walking out of the TARDIS for the final time. The dying light outside casts shadows on the walkway of the TARDIS as he watches your departure, and he is once again alone.

[laundrybiscuits]

written for the @steddiemicrofic prompt: 'pool' | wc: 442 | rated: G | cw: mild alcohol use (and cussing I guess? do we warn for PG-13 language?)

“Get in on this, Steve,” Robin says directly into his ear, way too loud. She’s had most of a Long Island iced tea; her face is bright pink.

“In on what,” Steve says, shoving at her.

“Nancy thinks Eddie’s gonna strike out again, but I believe in tru-u-ue lo-o-ove,” she warbles, clinging to his arm like a tipsy limpet. “So we’re betting. Five bucks. Who’re you siding with.”

It’s not like Steve hadn’t noticed Eddie talking to some guy, he'd just thought—

He swats at her again, futilely. “Yeah, I’m sure some random asshole at a dive bar is his true love.”

“Please, that’s probably Eddie's idea of a metalhead fairytale. They’re gonna make scuzzy little musician babies.”

“Do we have to talk about the birds and the bees, Robin?” He glances over at Nancy, listing against Jonathan’s side. Steve fights the urge to push Robin away again, but he shifts uncomfortably. The four of them probably look like interlopers here—tourists.

Nancy’s not flushed like Robin, but she looks a little looser than she’s let herself be in a while. It’s nice.

She’s smiling as she watches Eddie and the random asshole. “Eddie’s not doing too badly this time. Guess there’s someone for everyone.”

“Don't bias Steve,” whines Robin. “I want his money.”

“I’m not gonna bet, this is stupid,” says Steve. “It’s shitty to start a betting pool on Eddie’s—love life, or whatever.”

“They’re just having fun, man,” says Jonathan. “We all just want Eddie to be happy.”

“Sure. Some random asshole’s gonna make him happy.” Steve leans back against the bar, folding his arms.

“Steve.” Robin’s staring at him. “Oh my god, Steve. Wait. Steve.”

He winces.

“Steve,” she says. “Do you—”

“No. Shut up,” says Steve.

Jonathan glances from Steve to Robin to Eddie, and back to Steve. “Oh, shit,” he says. “Dude. Uh. Not to like, betray any confidences, but. You should tell him.”

“Wait, what?” Steve blinks. The jack and coke he's been nursing might be hitting. “You mean…”

Robin shoves him hard enough that he almost overbalances. “Go get your man! Team True Love!” She’s not even trying to be quiet. Across the bar, Eddie jumps a little and turns to stare back at them.

Steve’s face warms. He waves, like a loser, and Eddie’s expression goes from confused to something else. Something new.

Eddie touches the random asshole’s arm, but whatever he says makes the guy laugh and fuck off, so that's okay.

As Steve pushes away from the bar and starts to walk towards Eddie's growing smile, he hears Nancy saying, “I think this means you owe me,” while Robin shrieks, “Oh, like hell—”

[eyesofshinigami]

It Ain't About the Pitch

Rating: G

CW: None

Tags: Established relationship, fluff

Prompt: For @shares-a-vest "Love is tolerating your partner's terrible singing"

WC: 826

Written for Day 26 of @steddielovemonth

There were many, many things that Steve was good at. Eddie should know, as he’s become the foremost expert on all things Steve Harrington. So, he would be able to easily wax poetic about how good of a cook Steve is, how great he is in bed. He could also tell you how Steve seems to remember things about people that no one else does, or his uncanny knack for knowing where stuff is, even at other people’s houses. 

There are so many wonderful things that Steve is good at. Just…

Singing isn’t one of them. 

Dancing? Steve’s got that down pat. He’s got moves that could make your momma blush and Eddie is a weak, weak man for his boyfriend shaking his hips like that. But singing… Steve’s about as tone deaf as they come. 

That doesn’t stop him from singing his heart out, and Eddie has to admire that about him. Like right now, with Steve prancing around their kitchen in a pair of sweatpants and one of Eddie’s old band tees, warbling along with George Micheal’s new song about having faith while he’s flipping pancakes like a pro.

“Eddie, man… I think we need to tell him,” Dustin says, breaking Eddie out of his Steve-induced coma. “How can you stand that? He sounds like a cat that’s had its tail rocked on too many times!”

Dustin isn’t wrong, exactly, but Eddie shakes his head. “Leave him alone, Henderson. He’s having fun.” 

While it is an absolute assault on his senses, Steve’s lack of pitch and his incredible love of pop music, Eddie loves him like this. Unself-conscious and free, dancing and singing like he hasn’t got a care in the world. Eddie knows that even now, Steve feels like he needs to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. He’s always ready to jump head first into a problem, to stand between those he loves and the world like he’s got something to prove. So, to see him wiggling his hips and singing “Faith” off-key? Yeah, Eddie wouldn’t trade that for the world. 

Dustin whines. “He’s killing me. And George Micheal? Come on!”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “There’s the door, Henderson. No one’s keeping you here. Hell, if you leave, that means I can convince Steve to give me a private dance right there in the kitchen!” 

It has the intended effect, making Dustin groan even louder. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, the kids know how this works now. “Gross, I don’t even want to think about you two bumping uglies where Steve makes my pancakes.”

“There aren’t going to be any pancakes if you don’t stop griping,” Steve calls out in a sing-song voice, still wiggling his hips. “What’s got you all bent out of shape this time?”

“Your-”

Eddie clasps a hand over Dustin’s mouth and glares at him. “What isn’t Henderson griping about, baby? Don’t you worry, I’ll set him straight.” 

Steve just shrugs and goes back to making pancakes, tapping his foot as the song shifts to something else. Eddie vaguely recognizes it, but Steve is yell-singing about how heaven is a place on Earth. It’s terrible. It’s awful. It’s the best thing he’s ever seen in his life.

“I swear to god, Henderson, if you make him upset because he can’t sing, I will end you and every single character you roll in any of my games,” Eddie hisses through clenched teeth. 

He hears a snort from behind him, turning to see Steve standing behind the two of them with an amused grin on his face. “You don’t have to spare my feelings, I know I sound awful.” 

Eddie releases Dustin and pulls Steve into a hug. He’s got a smear of batter on his face but he’s smiling so sweetly, soft in the way that makes Eddie melt on the inside. “Awful is a really strong word. I’m just happy you’re happy, baby. I’d listen to you caterwaul all day and night if it makes you smile like that.”

A pretty pink blush breaks out over Steve’s cheeks. It kind of makes Eddie wish he had kicked Dustin out when he had the chance. “Such a sweet talker you are,” Steve teases, closing the distance to bring their lips together in a sweet kiss that’s just a little bit dirty. 

“Ugh, man, go back to singing, Steve, I can’t take this anymore. This is the last time I stay over after a movie night.”

They break apart and Steve throws his dish towel at Dustin. “And this will be the last time I make you pancakes, you ungrateful little shit. Even though I got- oh shit! Eddie! I know this one!” Steve starts dancing in Eddie’s arms, crooning along with whatever song has just come on the radio. He gets Eddie dancing too, and Dustin even reluctantly starts shimmying along with the beat. 

Yeah, who needs perfect pitch when he’s got this right here?

[nelladivinita]

A Brahms Heelshire NSFW alphabet!

Mostly gender neutral.

TW - somnophilia, cuckolding mention, and voyeurism.

Enjoy! 💞

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

“After… care?” Brahms is a Spoiled Brat and is used to being taken care of. He has never lifted a finger in his life, especially for others, so he’ll need to be taught what exactly aftercare is and why it’s necessary. Once he understands, he’ll usually do what you do for him when he’s overwhelmed: he’ll hold you in his lap and let you nuzzle your face into his neck, maybe even softly rocking you as you come down. He figures it works so well for him, it will for you too. But if you want something else, just ask, and he’ll be happy to deliver.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

Loves your chest, your belly, and thighs. When he’s not lying with his face buried into one, it’s always buried into another. It makes him feel safe, and the sounds you make when he starts mouthing you are euphoric to him, so he can never stay there for long without taking things further. As for his own body, Brahms loves his cock. An easy answer, but it’s true. Ever since your jaw dropped and your cheeks flushed red the first time you saw his impressive size he’s begun admiring it in private, and working hard to learn how best to pleasure you with it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

When you first started fucking, Brahms wanted to cum somewhere new every session. On your face, your chest, in your hair (???), in your mouth, down your throat; but the first time you let him finish inside you, his life was genuinely changed and he became eternally obsessed. The poor thing had been begging to for some time, so when you finally let him, he whimpered and cried and in his big boy voice, practically roared as he emptied into you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Wants to be cuckolded by the grocery boy. He’d NEVER tell you this, but while he was still hiding in the walls, too afraid to come out and face you, the raging jealousy he had towards Malcolm had nowhere to go but into his pants. Admittedly, he was more so masturbating to the idea of catching you and Malcolm in flagrante delicto and emerging from the walls to murder him in cold blood right in front of you, but that’s neither here nor there.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Take a wild guess <3 Brahms is the biggest virgin to ever live, never even seeing other people unless they were coming to apply as his nanny, and as we all know, that never worked out, and even when it did, it didn’t really, you know? But he has read enough anatomy books and snuck enough of his mothers erotica novels into his room to have a pretty good idea of what goes where and what he might like. Still, once he’s there with you he will be a warbling, awkward mess for the first several months.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Loves to fuck you with your back against a wall and your legs wrapped around his waist. It lets him have control and show off his strength, and because of your height difference, he can also cry hard into your neck if he becomes especially emotional at the affection he’s receiving, or at the idea of you leaving him. He also loves you in missionary too, where he can pound into you with reckless abandon, at times not bothering to thrust, just dropping his hips into you again and again, bottoming out until the sun comes up.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

VERY serious. When Brahms is fucking you he’s a Big Boy, with no time for games or jokes. Giggles and teasing is for Chutes and Ladders later; right now, he’s the scariest and most intimidating thing you’ve ever seen.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

HAIRY HAIRY HAIRY THE HAIRIEST THING TO EVER LIVE. His hair isn’t just on his chest but all across his stomach too, and it all culminates at his pubic hair, which is thick and fluffy and dark, and pokes out the top of his slacks at all times. If you want him to trim it, you’ll have to explain why to him at length, and probably do it yourself.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Honestly, in the beginning Brahms doesn’t understand intimacy. For the first several months he baby talks unless he’s moaning, and he will beg for most of what you have to give him. It isn’t until you begin to actually develop feelings for one another and his emotions extend past lust, into areas previously untouched in his psyche, that he’ll begin to have moments of equality with you. Then he’ll fuck you gently, and plant kisses into your hair, whispering in his grown up voice how thankful he is to have you, how beautiful you are, and how he wants to take care of you too. This likely comes after he finally takes his mask off.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Call Guinness World Records, Brahms might get a fancy plaque for this one. When you first show up, he practically never stops masturbating. Even as you sleep, he’s pressed panting against his side of the wall, desperate to stay quiet as he cums into his hand, and at times on the wall and floor, as many times as he can bear it. Will steal your underwear constantly to masturbate with and at one point even your shower poof. Once you know of his existence and start fucking, it will drop off some. If you punish him for misbehaving by refusing him though, he will jerk off right at the dinner table, and he loves cumming in his timeout corner.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Somnophilia. It started when he’d masturbate to you sleeping, and partially stems from his initial belief that, because of his disfigurement, sex with him isn’t something that you’ll want if you know it’s him. But in sleep? He could make you feel as good as possible and not have to be himself. Until he felt your love, that was all that felt safe.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Loves to take you into his dirty creepy room so he can fuck you on his bed rather than the makeshift you that he made. He also delights in the fact that he’s fucking you in a place that was hidden to you for so long; his pervy secret headquarters! But on top of that, this space is His. There are no traces of his parents, he even has his own fridge! So it sort of makes him feel like he’s invited you back to His Place, and he feels very confident and grown up and happy to have you there.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Absolutely everything. You swear you must be a supermodel the way everything you are and do sends him into a frenzy or leaves him straining against a wet spot on the front of his slacks. But it’s not a problem, because he makes you feel the same way, and nothing turns him on more than knowing that.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Brahms will never EVER invite someone else into your bed. Remember that cuckolding fantasy? Well if Malcolm even thinks of thinking of you in realistic terms, Brahms will, as mentioned, put him into an early grave. You are Brahms’ and he is yours, exclusively and eternally.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s absolutely over the moon at both. The first time you go down on him his eyes will be as wide as saucers and he’ll be frozen to the spot lying on his back, only kicking his legs out softly to accentuate the pleasure of your mouth. But as time goes on, he will get more daring and will lose control, fucking the back of your throat with his hands on your head. Giving, giving giving giving. He loves it. He loves the ecstasy of your soft thighs on his scarred skin; so often untouched, even by him. It makes him feel amazing to know you’re aroused by him despite his burns, and they way you grip his curls, the way you grind and fuck his tongue, he’s in heaven at your pleasure, sometimes cumming from the taste, sound, and sight alone.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Initially he is rough and fast the entire way through. He just can’t help himself, and he doesn’t understand that you need more time than he does to be ready to fuck him like that. He’s blinded by how tight and warm you are, and unless you’re in serious pain, you probably won’t have the heart to stop him anyway, seeing just how desperate and ecstatic he is to be there. However, he will listen to you if you really need him to slow down. In time he will learn your body and he will begin to value your slow sessions, where he is able to look into your eyes and share a quiet, pleasure filled space with you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Brahms LOVES quickies. No matter where you are or what you’re doing 90% of the time, you can expect him to come up behind you and start rutting against your ass, or dropping to his knees to taste you. By the way, the first time he sees you’re not underwear for him will practically kill him on the spot.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Will ask you every once in a while to leave a note telling Malcolm that you took doll Brahms to the park, asking him to put the groceries away himself. But little does Malcy-boy know, Brahms will be fucking you mercilessly inside the closest wall as he moves around the kitchen. Brahms will keep a hand over your mouth, as he knows how important it is that Malcolm doesn’t know he exists, but he still loves the thrill and the revenge (against what, you’re not sure) of this explicit act.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Maybe call Guinness again for this one. Brahms gets hard again almost instantly, and no matter how high your sex drive, nothing will satiate him until he’s good and satisfied himself. Initially he doesn’t last long, but as he gains endurance and self control, get used to going for hours at a time, with only half hour breaks in between at most.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Brahms doesn’t like calling the make-shift you a toy, but at the end of the day, it is in fact a toy. As for yourself, he used to get poisonously jealous of your toys before he got to fuck you like he wanted to. You found so many smashed, water logged vibrators that nothing made you more suspicious of strange happenings in the house as they did. But now that you are fucking, he likes to use the toys to over-stimulate or for you to over-stimulate him. He sees them as fun additions, but prefers when it’s just him and you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Brahms loves to lift your skirt and reach up to graze your thigh as you do your chores. But usually this is just so you’ll get frustrated with him and punish him, because he LOVES to be teased himself. Surprise him by waking him up topless, ask him to help you wash your body in the shower, and threaten him with no dessert if he touches his red, soap covered cock. He is never so obedient as when you’re dangling everything he’s ever wanted right in front of him.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

SO LOUD it makes you blush as his moans and whimpers and cries and roars echo around the enormous mansion no matter where in it you happen to be. The only time he’s quiet is when he’s fulfilling his “fuck you, Malcolm” fantasy, and when you’re sharing one of your quiet intimate moments, where the focus is as much on pleasure as it is on connecting, showering each other soft and conservative love.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Remember those dirty books Brahms would steal from his mother’s library? Well his favorite had a scene with raspberries and whipped cream that he’s been dying to try since it came into his limited zone of awareness. So expect once every couple of weeks for those ingredients to be added to the grocery list.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes

‘I just know his dick is big!’ We’re talking well above average ladies and gentlemen, about eight inches long and THICK. No matter how many sessions you have in a day, he never really stops feeling like he’s on the edge of being too big.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

We’ve already touched on this but Brahms will “never ever ever” get tired of fucking you. He’s waited his whole life to find someone like you. Someone so kind and beautiful and soft and sexy to fulfill his Every Waking Need, and let’s face it, most of his waking needs are sexual; so he’s going to make the most of every moment, and indulge himself as often as his little heart desires.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Conks out immediately. Brahms will usually cry or whimper before he falls asleep after he’s finally done cumming, so hold him like he holds you, and you’ll fall asleep together safe and warm (but don’t forget the somnophilia).

[heart-2-get]

A bondage story with power exchange and then wholesome cardiophilia aftercare would be sooo cute and like what if it was about princesses or something :’)

this is my first time ever writing anything like this! it turned out to be a lot more about the power exchange than the bondage or cardiophilia, but the ending is soft and sweet and hopefully focused just enough on the heartbeats to be good! enjoy!

“N-nineteen!”  Alexandra cried, tears welling along her lash line and spilling down over her cheeks.  Her skin was so warm and flushed she was surprised they didn’t just evaporate into thin air on the spot rather than drenching the satin sheets beneath her as the sound of her mistress’ hairbrush striking her skin cracked through the air.

“Good girl,” Celeste purred, gently caressing Alexandra’s angry, welted skin with the back of the hand that held the brush.  “You’re so close, sweetheart.  Just one more.  Do you think you can take it for me?”

Alexandra nodded, yelping as she felt her mistress’ other hand slip up along her spine and fist in her curls, yanking her head back sharply.  She didn’t need to be prompted to know what the tug meant.

“Yes, your highness,” she choked, breathing a sigh of relief as the grip on her hair eased.  “Anything for you.”

Without any time or warning, the hairbrush came down on Alexandra’s backside one last time, pulling a shrill keen from her throat and causing her to sag into her mistress’ lap with a broken sob as she choked out a raspy twenty.  She bit her lip to stifle any more cries, afraid to earn herself any more swats.  She’d already gone from fifteen to twenty by squirming and protesting; if nothing else, she’d learned her lesson.

“There we go, we’re all done with your punishment,” Celeste murmured softly, setting the hairbrush aside and smoothing her palm over Alexandra’s inflamed skin, drawing a soft mewl out of her sub.  She gripped the other woman’s cheek firmly, carefully pulling it aside, watching Alexandra’s slit part just a little along with her buttocks, strings of slick clinging to her swollen pink folds.  “It looks like you enjoyed it.  I knew you would.  No matter how much you protest, you always get so wet when I spank you.”

Alexandra shuddered as she felt her mistress’ fingertips skirt along her cheek before slipping in the wetness between her thighs.  She couldn’t help the wanton moan that slipped out when one of those fingers sank deep into her tight, needy pussy.  It felt so good but it wasn’t nearly enough and she earned herself another hair pull as she arched her hips in a desperate attempt to take the finger even deeper.

“Not yet,” Celeste tutted disapprovingly.  “You don’t want me to have to spank you some more, do you?”

“No, my lady,” Alexandra warbled hurriedly.  “I’m sorry.  I promise I’ll behave.”

“Good.”  Celeste worked her finger out half way and slowly thrust back inside, her knuckle dragging against the other woman’s g-spot in the process.  “You know you’ll be rewarded soon.  I just want to play with your sweet little cunt a little before I let you come.  You know how much I love splitting you open on my fingers.”

Alexandra did know and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t absolutely love being stretched open and toyed with.  Though she and Celeste were of equal stature in their respective kingdoms, behind closed doors she loved feeling small and precious and filthy and used.  It helped to loosen something inside of her chest, the knot that began to form when she’d been in charge for a little too long without an outlet.  Letting Celeste take the reins gave her brain a chance to click off for a little while and she relished the time they got to spend together.

“Who does this pussy belong to?”

Alexandra moaned as a second finger joined the first, scissoring open inside of her, stretching her exquisitely around the intrusion.

“You, your highness.”  She clenched around the invading fingers and was rewarded with a caress down her back.  “All of me belongs to you.”

Celeste hummed contentedly, her fingers curling and gently bumping her sub’s cervix, causing stars to explode behind Alexandra’s tightly closed eyelids.  She teased the moaning, mewling woman for another moment or two before pulling her fingers out, gently patting Alexandra’s thigh.

“On your back and spread your legs for me,” Celeste ordered, watching as Alexandra hurried to obey.  Her eyes tracked the other woman as she circled the bed and she gave her sub a few moments to settle in before getting to her feet.  Moving to the foot of the bed, she took a moment just to admire the sight before her.  Her sub looked beautiful with her breasts heaving, nipples pebbled from arousal and legs spread wide to reveal her soaking wet, glistening cunt.

“I bet you’re going to taste extra sweet after all the abuse your poor little ass took,” Celeste murmured as she climbed onto the bed and crawled in between Alexandra’s thighs.

“Yes, please, your highness,” Alexandra begged, her heels digging into the mattress.

“Use your words, my sweet girl,” Celeste encouraged her sub.  “Tell me what you want.”

“Want your mouth on me.”  Alexandra swallowed thickly, moaning softly at the mere thought of it.  “O-on my pussy.  Please, my lady.”

Celeste chuckled softly, situating herself low on the bed, her face mere inches from Alexandra’s folds.  “I can’t help but give you what you want when you beg so pretty.”

Without another word, Celeste leaned in, her mouth closing around Alexandra’s clit.  She smiled as Alexandra’s hips rolled of their own volition, bringing her clit deeper into Celeste’s mouth, making it that much easier to swirl her tongue around it.  As she suckled on the swollen little nub, her fingers found Alexandra’s opening again, sinking inside just as easily as they had before.  She was rewarded with a gasp and cry from her sub and she encouraged the other woman with a broad sweep of her tongue over her folds.  

For the next several minutes, Celeste worked Alexandra into a fervor.  Alternating between licks, sucks, and nips to her clit and deep thrusts of her fingers into Alexandra’s hot, wet pussy, Celeste coaxed her toward an orgasm.  She could tell when Alexandra was getting close, knew just by the way Alexandra’s core spasmed around her penetrating fingers and the way her body writhed, chest heaving with shallow, desperate breaths.  

“I’m going to come, your highness,” Alexandra gasped breathlessly as Celeste sank a third finger into her waiting cunt, stretching her to her limit.  “May I please come?  I-I can’t hold it much longer!”

Celeste hummed, her mouth otherwise occupied, and edged Alexandra for another few seconds before lifting her head, never once missing a beat with her fingers, continuing their quick, maddening thrusting.  

“You know that’s not how we usually do things,” she hedged, her thumb coming up to take over teasing Alexandra’s clit.  “But since you took your punishment so well, I think I can be persuaded.  Ask me one more time, princess.”

Alexandra whimpered, squeezing her eyes tightly shut to hold back the tide of her climax.  “Please, my lady, may I come?  You feel so good inside me.  Please!”

Celeste drove her fingers in deep, stilling them inside as her thumb continued to rub Alexandra’s clit.  “Come for me.”

A heartbeat or two later and Alexandra was arching off the bed, her hips jerking as her thighs quivered, pussy clenching tight around Celeste’s fingers.  Celeste could feel the intensity of the orgasm as Alexandra rode it out and she relished each and every gasp and shout that tumbled from the other woman’s lips.  She murmured soft encouragements, rubbing Alexandra’s g-spot with a fierce precision that kept wave after wave of pleasure rolling through her sub’s body.  She lifted her free hand and splayed it across Alexandra’s belly, pressing in deeply to calm the savage bucking of the girl’s hips.  

As Alexandra’s orgasm finally started to subside and her body collapsed bonelessly against the mattress, Celeste was treated to the frantic fluttering of the artery running through Alexandra’s belly beneath her hand.  It stuttered a little when she carefully eased her fingers out from inside Alexandra’s spent and dripping pussy and Celeste couldn’t help but grin at the sensation knowing that she was responsible for the strain on her sub’s heart.

“You did so well,” she praised as she propped herself on her elbows before slowly rising to her knees, looking down at Alexandra’s exhausted form, her sub’s chest heaving as she desperately tried to catch her breath and calm her racing heartbeat.

Celeste shifted, shifting backwards off the bed and rising, meeting Alexandra’s gaze.  “Don’t move just yet, sweetheart; I’ll be right back.”

She disappeared into the ensuite bathroom for a minute, returning a short while later with a warm, wet cloth and coming to kneel between Alexandra’s thighs once more.  She made quick work of carefully cleaning the other woman up, wiping away the slick and saliva that was quickly drying along her folds, and tossed the cloth aside as she finished up.  

“How are you feeling?”  Celeste asked as she made her way around to Alexandra’s side, crawling in next to her and gently laying a hand on her belly. 

“M’good,” Alexandra murmured sleepily, her words slurring a little as she drifted in the blissful void between subspace and lucidity.  

“Do you need anything?”

Alexandra shook her head, her half-lidded gaze falling on Celeste.  “Can we just snuggle?”

“Of course,” Celeste said softly, lying down next to Alexandra and slipping a hand under the other girl’s shoulders, pulling her in close.  “Come here, princess.”

She kept still as Alexandra shifted around a little before finally settling with her head on Celeste’s chest.  Celeste smiled, carding her fingers through Alexandra’s hair, knowing the other woman could hear her slow, steady heartbeat.  She slipped her hand over Alexandra’s ribs, pressing her palm to the special spot beneath her sub’s breast where she knew her heartbeat was strongest.  Alexandra’s heart rate was still on the high side, but Celeste knew it wouldn’t be long before it slowed down to a much more relaxed pace.  

“You’re so beautiful,” Celeste murmured, dipping her head to press a kiss into Alexandra’s hair.  “My good girl.”

“All yours,” Alexandra whispered breathily.

Celeste hummed, her palm pressing a little more firmly against Alexandra’s heartbeat.

“Your heart and soul belong to me,” she agreed.  “And mine to you.”

Alexandra made a breathy noise of acknowledgment.  It was the last effort she made before her breathing evened out and Celeste knew she’d fallen asleep.  She could feel Alexandra’s heartbeat settle into a slow, steady rhythm beneath her hand as sleep claimed her and she was content to simply hold the other woman close.  After all, Alexandra’s heart was a precious gift that had been given to Celeste with the utmost trust and she would treat it with all the love and care in the world for as long as Alexandra let her.

feel free to request something!

[toweroftickles]

Three-Sentence Drabbles: Ticklish Dads

This was supposed to be a cute, wholesome little tribute for Father's Day, but obviously that's no longer the case. I never seem to have inspiration for holiday-themed compilations until too late. It's also surprisingly difficult to cram setup and payoff into a three-sentence limit (not to mention varying grammatical structure in a way that's coherent), so as per usual I kind of cheated with quotations and inserts.

Chrom, Lucina, and Inigo

"H-Heh-Ha-Ha! Stop that...Ha-HaI'm...I'm g-hoing to...be....Ngk...your f-ha-ther someday, and...Heh...I-I...order you to...Heh-Heh Ha-Ha!" Chrom laughed and jumped around in his creaking wooden chair, while Lucina turned blue and scurried in a tornado of panic around the war room table.

In his right hand, Inigo was holding a rigid yellow quill, and its purpose was twofold: to tickle the father-daughter pair at intervals, and to scrawl the results of his "research" in a small red leather notebook.

"Sheesh, you two, get a grip...you're always so on edge," Inigo grinned as he chased Lucina around the room like an exuberant toddler, menacingly waggling the feather toward her, desperate pleas of "No, keep that away from me!" jostling his eardrums.

For those unaware, in Fire Emblem Awakening, Inigo has canonically tickled Lucina and Chrom just to make them smile. ^^

Ellie and Joel (Game)

Sure, Ellie knew that her awful dad jokes weren’t all that funny, but at least she was trying to ease the tension, and Joel’s irascible stone face was really getting on her nerves…especially now that her backup plan wasn’t working either.

“URRRGH, shit; you’re seriously not ticklish?!” she griped, jabbing her index finger repeatedly into Joel’s lower back like an impatient kid with an elevator button.

Ellie quickly regretted her impertinence when her guardian wordlessly picked her up by her armpits and shoved her against a brick wall, and soon, she found herself kicking her legs, cursing, and giggling uncontrollably above the ground as rough fingers squeezed into her belly over and over, no matter how much she yelled…maybe Joel did have a sense of humor after all.

Ok, so not every dad on the list is ticklish, but I wanted to write about him pulling an Uno Reverse Card on Ellie. XD

Jake, Kiri, and Tuktirey Sully

"Huhuh, Huh-Ha...Heh! Heh HAA HAA HA...Qu-hittit! Ah-Hn-Hn Hng-Hng Hng!!" Jake Sully laughed loudly and futilely attempted to shield his armpit among the grass.

"Hihih! T-hickle tickle tickle tickle tickle," Tuk giggled sweetly, scratching her dad's belly button with her impish finger while he thrashed around.

The olo'eyktan had slipped from his mount and landed in the midst of the direhorse herd, and now, surrounded by curious baby calves, his whole body was being lashed by their long, fleshy tongues...his stomach, his underarms, his feet...everywhere...but rather than restraining their pets, his two daughters had decided to gleefully join in the tickle torture, and were poking Jake wherever their wicked little hands could reach.

Johnny and Dennis

One of the first skills a young vampire learned was to control bats, but despite the tutelage of his mother and grandfather's combined centuries of experience, Dennis was rapidly losing control of his "training swarm."

A torrent of the little beasts (over a hundred of them) careened around the castle's dining hall, upending candlesticks and chairs as they went, until they eventually dove headlong into Jonathan like a blast from a fire hose and carried him high into the air.

"WhoaAAho, hohohohohold it, YAAaHahaaaaThatssouncomfterble, NG! Wha - Eeeeeeeeeeeeek! Hehelp me down!" the incomprehensible syllables blurted out of Johnny's mouth at a warbling pitch and his body twisted into noodles...dozens of the bats were swarming inside his clothes...but his wife and son were too busy giggling to assist.

Naruto and Boruto Uzumaki

Naruto stood rooted to the training courtyard ground, iron and resolute, taking body-blow after body-blow with nary a flinch as his son's practice dummy.

This test was one of Boruto's strength, to see if he could force the immovable to move, but Naruto remained steadfast for a long while, until the boy’s knuckles dusted across his abdomen one too many times and he shuddered in place.

“HHEHH; Heehee-Heehee Hee, Quihit it!” the Hokage snickered like a little kid, slightly embarrassed and frustrated that he (like many other "tough" adult ninjas) hadn’t quite outgrown a ticklish tummy yet - a fact which delighted Boruto.

Kass and His Kids

Of Kass’ five daughters, Cree struggled the most with playing his bandoneon, always fumbling with it and letting it slip through her feathers (but in her defense, it was difficult for the bird bard to teach her properly while the rest of his chicks used him like a jungle gym).

“No, you gotta squeeze it really hard,” Kotts instructed during a slow glide down off of her dad's shoulder, continuing as she landed behind him: "...liiiiiiike......this!"

One harsh pinch around his waist, and Kass fell down helpless on the flight platform in a heap of laughter, a wide open target for the army of five teeny soldiers that hopped and bounced all over him with their iron talons and fluffy wings, grinning and squealing…he wasn't sure how many more tickle attacks he could take in one day!

Miguel and Gabriella O'Hara (Earth-TRN1042)

This one’s for @trrickytickle, who was the only one to offer me a suggestion for this comp. 😂

Every Miguel O'Hara throughout the vast multiverse was always tethered to some type of “spider” in one way or another, and young Gabriella...skittering slowly along the living room floor, all four limbs splayed out and giggling excitedly...certainly looked the part.

“Hmm…must’ve been my imagination…could’ve sworn I heard a little bug crawling around somewhere…” Miguel smirked and politely pretended not to see or hear her (not even when her tennis shoes squeaked on polished hardwood), until she cried out “Spider attack!” and dove onto him with insectoid hands.

"AHH-HA No no wait wait wait wait wait; Ha-Ha Ha-Ha!" Miguel's raspy laugh broke out as soon as those sharp, unclipped little fingernails nibbled his stomach, for that was his jubilant girl's superpower - tickle torture! - and no weapon was powerful enough to stop her reign of terror…well, except maybe the big raspberry he blew right on her squishy tummy.

Mufasa and Simba

Like all cubs, Simba firmly believed he could take his dad in a fight despite their 600-pound size difference, but his illusion was quickly broken by the set of jaws that lifted him up by the scruff of his neck, and the lion prince had no other recourse than to struggle wildly, swiping and pawing and wagging his tail at Mufasa's belly.

“Hn-Hn, Heh-Heh Heh-Heh Ha-Ha Ha-Ha!” That voice wasn’t just deep, it was subterranean, and Mufasa's booming laughter always drew big smiles out of his mate and cub alike.

Collapsing into one another, the king and his son tumbled down the grassy hill until they were both exhausted, warm and safe in a snuggle of dandelion fuzz.

Phoenix and Trucy Wright

For her 13th birthday, Phoenix Wright scrounged together enough dough to buy his little magician a new Hans Moretti Sword Box, and he'd even agreed to let her practice with him...with the provision that she use floppy toy weapons, of course.

"Now just hold still dad, I've gotta get this right!" Trucy announced and shoved a wobbly rubber sword into the box's open slot.

Its hard tip bent against Phoenix's spleen, causing him to warble "BaAAaah, that tickles!" and rattle inside his felt-lined prison.

Ashley and Richard Robins (Trace Memory/Another Code)

Ashley’s bond with her father was still tenuous, even after all they’d been through...so many questions unanswered and lost years irretrievable...and so she spent most of her vacation in awkward, divorced silence with him, usually draped over the couch and moodily leafing through a book.

But one afternoon, as she laid there on her stomach and doomscrolled through Instagram, Ashley suddenly felt a nerve-tingling scratch along the bottom of her bare foot, and with a loud and involuntary scream, she whipped around and pulled her knees into her chest, her cheeks the color of strawberry jelly.

“DAaaA-aaaad!” she whined, full to bursting with angry embarrassment, but instead of letting her socially-awkward father mumble an apology, she angrily hopped up and tickled under his arms until he slid down to the floor in fits of anxious laughter...it surprisingly made her feel better.

Will Taylor and his Dad (NiGHTS: Journey of Dreams)

“Hey, dad, you're gonna be at the game on Thursday, right?” Will asked with a twinge of trepidation in his voice (he didn't want to seem too concerned) as he carried the soccer ball under his arm.

Smiling, his father teased the blonde boy “Oh, you think I forgot…huh, you think I forgot?!” and suddenly wrestled him down into the sunny campsite grass in a merciless flurry of tickling fingers.

Will had been lonely and missing his dad terribly these past few weeks, but as he lay there squeaking and laughing helplessly (and despite his struggle to tickle his dad back through that heavy three-piece suit), all that heartache slowly melted away.

Aang and Kya

Ankle-deep in the Nan Shan River (for familial waterbending lessons), Katara was struck from the heavens with a brilliant idea, and while Aang was distracted, she knelt down delivered wicked whispers into the ear of her young daughter, whose grin grew wider and wider.

At the direction of Kya’s wildly-flapping limbs, bubbles and seaweed and soft nodes of jasmine ice all gently coalesced into swirling, semisolid eddies that snaked beneath the water and wrapped themselves around Aang’s lower legs before he noticed them, and suddenly, the Avatar went cross-eyed and began to dance around in the whirlpools like a caffeinated monkey.

As father and daughter both failed to contain their hysterics, Katara stood there snickering at her own clever prank, beaming with pride at her little girl...but in her mirth, she failed to realize that Kya might want to try out this "traditional Southern Water Tribe technique" on her next.

Vander, Vi, and Powder

Vi and Powder plopped down on the elder sister's bed and angrily wiped their bruised, stinging cheeks and damp lips, only marginally comforted by Vander's tree-trunk arms around their shoulders...though the thing that really hurt most was their pride.

"That's what you get for taking on boys twice your size...you learned your lesson or do they need to whip your hides again?" their guardian teased the girls and tussled their hair, and Vi (who was clearly trying not to smile) answered by twisting her left elbow into his ribs.

"Ha-ow! Oi, so you think you wanna scuffle, eh?" Vander laughed and quickly immobilized the sisters, who shrieked like tea kettles and kicked ecstatically in his embrace, unable to escape the smothering bear-hugs and armpit-tickles that bombarded them.