how do u think tenna would be with a chubbier & hairier partner whos insecure?? Sorry to ruin the gender neutral aspect but one who feels like shes too gross to be a pretty girl that he would like??
i don't think Tenna cares much about his partner's appearance, honestly. what Tenna needs is someone who matches him emotionally, someone who won't abandon him. if you're the person who laughs at his jokes and holds his hand through the bad days, who tells him you love TV and watch anything he wants to show you, who reminds him ten times a day that he's not obsolete and not old and you're not going anywhere, then you're already the most beautiful thing in any world to him.
i also think Tenna, as a darkner who spent years watching a family grow up through a screen, has a very particular understanding of bodies and love. he watched Kris and Asriel grow from kids to teens. he saw Toriel age. he understands that bodies change, that they're all different. the surface world's obsession with a single narrow standard of beauty is genuinely alien to him.
i mean, you've got a puzzle piece, a robot queen, a salesman puppet all existing in the same world without a single beauty hierarchy between them. Tenna has never once thought about whether someone's body “measures up” because the concept doesn't exist in his world. if anything, he probably thinks variety is the whole point.
he's is quite literally an old CRT, human “beauty standards” are not his native language. what's body hair to a man who doesn't have skin? what's softness to someone whose entire frame is made of wires and metal? if anything, Tenna would be fascinated by the things his partner feels insecure about, because they're part of what makes them unlike anything else he's ever known. he'd press his warm screen against your belly and marvel at the softness and he'd run his claws gently through your body hair and call it lovely .
a television doesn't care about pretty! a television cares about being watched, being wanted, being loved and loving back just as fiercely.
also he'd be genuinely confused. like, i think at first he wouldn't even understand what his partner was saying. “what do you mean, too gross? too gross for what?... too gross for me? sugar, i have a plug tail. i sneeze flowers when i'm happy!! we're both strange and wonderful and i don't understand the problem?”
“now, honey, who put that idea in your head? because i'd sure like to have a little chat with 'em...”
i need to write....i need to get the brainworms out.....but to do that i must first survive the impossible choice between priest!spamton and swap spamtenna
How obnoxious (I say affectionately) do you think Tenna would be if he found out he is/was Reader's first time?
TENNA X READER FIRST TIME HEADCANONS
i think this will work better in the form of hcs. honestly, my inspiration has left me and i dont really like these that much, but oh well i just like the idea that Tenna will be just as nervous about this as his partner. btw it's entirely up to you whether Tenna himself is a virgin or not
nsfw
★ Tenna would want to make everything as romantic as possible. on one hand, oh damn, the pressure, the responsibility, but on the other hand, this is the best excuse he's ever been handed to pull out every romantic stop he's been mentally stockpiling since the day he first laid eyes on you. a proper date. a real date! not just the casual lingering after broadcasts, but something memorable. of course Tenna wants it with candles and music.
★ rose petals leading all the way to the bedroom, but you're absolutely not walking on them. no, no, he's carrying you. scooped up in his big arms like the most precious thing in any world, light or dark, and he'd be insufferably pleased with himself about it, too. humming the theme from some old romance movie under his breath while you laugh
★ he'd be nervous as hell himself, which means he'd be cracking stupid jokes the entire time, talking to himself or some imaginary studio audience . and you'd catch him muttering reassurances under his breath that are clearly meant for himself more than you.
★ everyone knows that for a first time both partners need to be properly aroused before continuing, but with Tenna it would just happen naturally. he adores physical closeness, absolutely worships it, so you're guaranteed an incredibly long foreplay session. i think Tenna would work you up to the point where you're actually begging him, that's how turned on you'd become. he'd drag it out, savouring every whimper, every trembling breath, until you're aching for more.
★ or... he'd cum in his pants first. that's entirely possible. or, alternatively, you'd both finish from dry humping alone, grinding against each other until you're both soaked and spent without even getting undressed properly.
★ “oh no... no no no, i'm so sorry, that wasn't-- that wasn't how it was supposed to go, not at all, i had petals and music a-and i just-- goodness! ive ruined it, haven't i? show's over before it even started, i've really messed this up, i'm so sorry, sweetheart, are you disappointed? you're disappointed, i can tell, no, don't say you're not. oh, i'm making this worse, i'm making this so much worse--“ you kiss him before he can shrink himself down to fit in the palm of your hand.
★ and speaking of kissing, i believe Tenna has a genuine oral fixation, the sort that goes beyond just enjoying it and into the territory of needing it, craving the warmth and the little sounds you make against his mouth. he'd take his time. he'd take forever, actually. kissing down your neck, your collarbone, the hollow of your throat, murmuring praise against your skin. “you're so warm” “oh my star, the way you sigh when i touch you there..” “i could do this all night, i really could, don't test me.”
★ let's just say, Tenna enjoys the anticipation.
★ so much attention to your body overall. whether you're a lightner or darkner, Tenna would be fascinated by properly learning your body.
★ nipple play anyone?? no..?? well, the oral fixation combined with his need to make you feel good means his mouth is going to find its way there eventually, and he'll be thorough about it. through fabric at first, because Tenna likes the teasing, the way you squirm when the cotton goes damp and clingy. then skin to tongue, he'd be so attentive, switching sides whenever you gasp a certain way, glancing up at you with a gentle smile . “that good, starshine? that working for you?” you'd have to resist the urge to smack him with a pillow because yes, obviously, it's working, he knows it's working, the smug bastard.
★ long, unhurried minutes of him rubbing you through your clothes, learning the way you sigh and squirm. he'd draw it out until you're lightheaded with it.
★ probably cant even manage penetration the first time because he's too emotional to shrink down properly.
★ Tenna would compensate by eating you out until you forget your own name. “well, now, honey, a good host always has a backup plan.” he's trailing a path of kisses down your stomach, a soft little mwah against your skin. takes your hand in his and gives it a gentle squeeze. “hold onto me, sweetie, right here. you can pull if you need to.” he murmurs, guiding your fingers to his antennae.
★ he'd be so enthusiastic about it that you'd genuinely wonder if he prefers it this way.
★ he'd pull back occasionally just to pepper kisses across your lower belly, and after the third time you grab his antennae and try to guide him back down with a breathless “please, you were literally right there..“ so he stops teasing and gets back to business, but not before pressing one more kiss right to your clit / tip, just to hear you huff.
★ “oh, oh, oh, sugar!! you're-- this is... wow!! wowee, you're delicious. i mean that. five stars... best thing i've ever had the pleasure of--“ and you have to physically push his face back down before he gives you a full review
★ afterwards he'd rest his head on your thigh, still pressing lazy kisses to your skin, hand still rubbing your belly soothingly while you catch your breath. glowing with pride at having made you fall apart like that.
★ if he manages to shrink himself down, and that's a big if, he'd be so so so careful with you. trembling hands guiding himself to your entrance, pressing in slowly, while he watches your face for any sign of discomfort. “that's it, sweetheart, you're doing so well, just breathe for me, nice and easy... ohgollyyou'rejustso t-tight”
★ he'd kiss you through it, swallowing every gasp and whimper. claws fisted in the sheets on either side of your head because he's using every ounce of self-control not to move until you're ready.
★ but also, he's still tall as fuck so positioning is genuinely a logistical challenge at first. there's a solid five minutes of awkward shuffling where he's trying to find the right angle and you're both laughing too hard to be sexy about it.
★ he's also desperately attentive to every little noise you make. hyperfocused on drawing out more of them, adjusting his pace. he'd hook your legs higher up his sides, changing the angle and when your back arches he makes a triumphant little aha!!
★ “right there? yeah? yeah... that's the spot, i know it is, your little sounds tell on you eeeevery time...“ and when you make a particularly good sound he literally glows. “ooh, that one! that was-- love, that was gorgeous, can i have it again? just one more time? oh there you go, there it is. yes yes, that's my star, that's my good star.”
★ afterwards, i imagine Tenna would be the one sprawled on your chest rather than the other way round. the bed wouldn't be decorated with rose petals anymore, it'd be scattered with flowers from his nose because during the process he was just SO overwhelmed with happiness. and at some point you'd both let out a long breath, turn to look at each other, and in perfect unison you'd blurt out, “you sure you liked it? you'd tell me if i messed it up, right?” and then you'd both just crack up laughing. as if the evidence isn't literally strewn across the sheets??
★ and as another option, aftercare eventually of course, but before that i think there'd be an unholy amount of cuddling where Tenna flicks on your favourite show, projecting it onto his screen. you'd be too boneless and satisfied to do anything though
sneak peek time!! this is for my fic “it's me and my tv against the world”. it doesn't really have spoilers per se, but it’s big shot era!Spamton. NSFW & objectum. uhh idk what else to say, im embarrassed
Spamton checked his watch for what must have been the fortieth time, wondering how much longer Vivienne intended to chat with that impossibly beautiful but severe woman. She was always frowning and impeccably dressed, but he could never remember her name. Something with a C, he was fairly certain.
Interesting taste the Queen had.
After fourteen hours of meetings, his eyes had given up any real hope of staying open, and he suspected he might simply fall asleep standing up, right there in the car park with his briefcase still in hand.
Being a big important person drained your soul, scooped it out with a tiny silver spoon and served it to people who wouldn't even remember your name. At least the spoon was nice. Pity about the soul, really.
A yawn overtook him so completely that the briefcase found its own way to the asphalt, freeing both hands to brace against the Cungadero, letting his faithful friend take the weight of his body without complaint. He'd been awake for twenty hours. Twenty hours of handshakes and small talk and remembering which fork to use.
Bodies did strange things when you pushed them past their limits, they forgot how to stand, how to think, how to keep the blood from rushing somewhere inconvenient the moment you pressed against something familiar. Entirely indifferent to his suffering, or so Spamton assumed until the Cungadero’s doorhandle caught the fabric of his trousers.
A finger hooking into his belt loop and tugging him closer. His body decided that still wasn't enough, pressed was better than leaning, friction was better than stillness, and he found himself rolling forward once, experimentally grinding against the door panel that sent a jolt through him so sharp he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from making a sound.
What the hell he thought he was doing, rutting against his own car while Vivienne could appear at any moment. Although, to be fair, she probably wouldn't be entirely surprised. She knew, from Spamton’s own mouth no less, that he’d given himself a hickey with a vacuum cleaner as a teenager.
It was pathetic, grinding against a door handle in darkness while his business partner chatted away inside. The knowledge of his own absurdity should have killed the arousal dead in its tracks but instead it seemed to feed it, because here he was, doing it again, much slower this time, letting the metal ridge drag along the length of him. Wishing the door handle would curl fingers around him and squeeze.
Look at you, Spamton told himself. Twenty hours in a boardroom and this is what you do with the first minute alone?
And the truly ridiculous thing was that he'd been meaning to see a doctor about this. Weeks now, he’d been telling himself it was stress, the insomnia, the shrimp cocktail dinners that passed for nutrition. Nothing had stirred below the belt in so long he'd started to blame the endless cortisol.
Yet here he was. Exhausted and starved. And hard as a gearshift.
The Cungadero finally released the lock for its owner. Spamton preferred to imagine the car was letting him in because it wanted him inside, had been waiting all day just like he had, patient and ready to receive him. Whether entering a vehicle could be compared to entering a cathedral was a difficult question, but the hush that greeted him felt holy enough to count.
Both left you alone with your sins in the dark.
“Eccomi, amore mio. I know, I know, I left you out here in the cold. Let me make it up to you.”
I’d drive you to the coast, Spamton thought, one hand drifting to his belt. I’d take you apart on an empty road where no one could hear us. Every bolt, every wire, every hidden thing inside you that no one else has ever touched. I’d push you until the speedometer begged.
His fingers found their target through the fabric and he groaned against the wheel.
Or I’d simply climb into your back seat and show you what a man can do with nothing but desperation and a very, very patient automobile.
Slowly, he slipped two fingers into the air vent, past the first knuckle, then the second, feeling the cool plastic grip him. “So tight,” he breathed. “you'd squeeze me just like this, wouldn't you? I'd have to work for it. I'd make it worth your while.”
You'd let me do anything. You're so good. So patient. So fucking beautiful just sitting here waiting for me to come back.
He let himself moan, imagining the Cungadero was the one touching him, the seatbelt tightening across his chest like a lover's arm. The car took every whimper he gave, swallowed them, asked for more, greedy thing that it was.
Spamton’s hips rolled forward against nothing. It’s alright. There would be so much time to think of all the other ways he could show his beloved thing exactly how devoted he was.
He'd barely begun to imagine what else his tesoro might let him do, how loudly it might purr, when his phone rang.
Mike’s name burned across the screen, forcing Spamton’s rhythm to stutter. Damn Mike who always sensed the exact moment Spamton was about to have something for himself.
His other hand, the one not currently occupied, twitched toward the phone on instinct, because you answered when Mike called. Mike had trained that into him, and the training didn't just vanish because your brain was foggy with want.
But the car’s leather creaked beneath him, and Spamton imagined it was protest. Jealousy. The Cungadero wanted him all to itself and resented every second his attention was elsewhere.
“Shh,” he breathed, pressing his palm flat against the dashboard, soothing. “Shh, I know, I know. He doesn't get to interrupt us. He doesn't get to have this. You're the only one who takes me this well, aren't you?”
A missed call was a conversation later, and conversations later were always worse.
“You're right... He can wait,” Spamton kissed the steering wheel's centre. “He can wait while I finish what I started with you. You've been so patient all day, haven't you? Sitting out here in the cold while I shook hands and pretended I wasn't counting the minutes until I could come back to you. You deserve my attention more than he does.”
His thumb, clumsy with haste, fumbled the phone. He was sure he didn't pick up.
Mike could choke on his own demands for all Spamton cared right now.
so i have a sneak peek for the next chapter of my objectum fic BUT i’m genuinely nervous about posting it BUT then again i do want to use this blog as a space for fic notes and behind the scenes stuff! ough man anyway it’s about Spamton and his car ......
Would you consider writing something about Tenna bottoming for the reader? I bet he gets so so whiny, somebody so big and powerful digging his big claws into the mattress while you take him from behind.
would spamtenna scratch the itch for bottom Tenna? *hopeful little look* i already have a little idea brewing for ao3, but it’s specifically for that pairing hhahhahgg.. and for Tenna x reader, i’ve got smth else in mind to post there. he’ll be pathetic though
i liked ur last drabble, misreading something is genuinely just a mistake. it doesnt detract from the rest of your work (which itself is pretty goddamn good, might i add - been seeing ur stuff in the tenna xreader tag for a bit). if its really nagging at u, writing a new post is always an option no?
eitherway -- i like ur stuff. i get feeling down over the misread but this stuff does just happen unfortunately. i know i've misread stuff a decent amt of times myself u_u
aww thank you sm for those words!! you’re right that i can always rewrite it, though i try to take breaks in my writing so i don’t burn out like i’ve done before. but i’m just relieved people seemed to like it anyway! and to be honest, i still get nervous posting a lot of the time (TT)
im going to regret this in the morning but the Tenna thoughts were too loud so here you go woahwowieee
nsfw . oral sex
Tenna genuinely convinced himself he’s a patient man. patient man until he's got you laid back on the sofa with your legs over his shoulders, and he hasn’t even gotten your underwear off yet. in fact, you’re not sure he's planning to, and oh, oh no, he’s definitely not planning to. a surprised little whimper escapes you when you feel that wide grinning mouth press right up against the cotton, shamelessly lapping at you through the fabric with zero interest in removing the barrier.
the pleasure rolls through you in quick shivery bursts, and your hips twitch without permission, your own hands scrambling down to shove your panties aside yourself because Tenna’s clearly not going to do it, the absolute menace, but he’s faster than you now that he's stopped pretending to be patient.
Tenna’s hands slide under your ass and hoist your hips up off the sofa like you weigh absolutely nothing, angling you against his mouth for better access, and any leverage you thought you had is gone, your legs dangling uselessly over his shoulders while he holds you in place and finally, finally drags his tongue over your clothed entrance.
the soaked fabric clings to you, barely hiding anything, and every drag of his tongue smears the mess wider until he’s practically making out with your pussy through the ruined cotton. oh, you taste so good it makes Tenna grind down against the sofa in desperate humps, because god forbid he focus on his own cock for two seconds when there’s a wet spot spreading on your underwear and it's his doing, his prize.
the poor thing is so far gone he doesn’t even register your laughter at first, too busy lapping at you through the mess he's made.
your fingers find his antenna, buzzing with how worked up he is, and you pet him through it.
“these were my favourite pair, Tenna... but if you like them so much, maybe i should just leave them with you... a little gift. something for you to-- ahh-- something for you to think about during your next broadcast.”
it’s suspiciously quiet for a man who usually can’t stop talking, and a full mouth has never been much of an obstacle for Tenna before. his movements have slowed to something dazed, almost drunken, and when you glance down, the mystery solves itself. there’s a fresh dark stain spreading across the front of his slacks, and now he’s staring up at you with the guiltiest expression you've ever seen on a man who just got exactly what he wanted.
“aww, baby,” you coo, making Tenna’s screen flicker miserably because he knows that tone, knows he’s about to be roasted within an inch of his life. “all that just from eating me out through my panties?”
Tenna turns his face away, antennae drooping forward to hide the blushing. “can i... can i put it in you now? please, starshine?”
you nudge his screen back toward you with a finger under his chin and smile. “only if you take these off me first. since you're so fond of them and all.”
cant stop thinking about escaping real life to stay in the dark world forever with tenna...
at first it would be an accidental thing like what the fuck is a dark world!!! But then you really enjoy your time away from everything in the dark world with tenna, playing games and having fun, that when you leave you cant stay far away... you keep coming back just to be with tenna to the point you are staying in the dark world almost all the time just to be with tenna forever and ever <333 he spoils you and treats you like the most important thing there, his sweet lightener.... (〒﹏〒) ough i need him now :((
The feeling of being wanted is a rather contagious thing, isn’t it? One might go so far as to say it’s the most intoxicating sensation a person can experience, subtler than love at first glance, more insidious than admiration, because it asks nothing of you except your presence, and then it makes sticking around so pleasant that leaving just feels unnecessary.
Tenna is thrilled to have a new contestant, though initially you haven’t the faintest idea what that means. “Goodness gracious, a fresh face! Folks, we've got a fresh face tonight!” The first hours are the most confusing. What on earth is a Dark World, and why is the furniture trying to quiz you, and who is this towering figure with a television for a head grinning at you? It’s absurd. Disorienting. It’s the most interesting thing that’s happened to you in months.
But somewhere between the third round of trivia and the sound of Tenna’s excitement when you get an answer right, you realise you haven’t thought about your real-world worries in hours. Are you trapped here? Is that what this is? Yeah. One might call it a trap, except the door is never locked, and no one stops you from leaving, and yet you keep finding reasons not to walk through it.
Tenna spoils you rotten. Building a pedestal and placing his lightner upon it. Grand gestures, yes, such as prizes from the show that somehow always end up in your hands, the best seat mysteriously reserved no matter how crowded the audience gets. But he also saves you the best questions in the quiz. He pauses mid-sentence during a broadcast, turning away from his audience of eager darkners just to check if you’re comfortable, if you need a drink, if the lights are too bright for your surface-world eyes.
“Can’t have our star contestant squinting, now can we, folks?” and the audience laughs, and you laugh.
The thing about keeping people entertained for a living is that Tenna knows, intimately, the difference between an audience that’s captive and an audience that’s chosen to be there.
He’s spent decades in a living room, after all, watching his family drift in and out, never quite sure if they were watching because they wanted to or because he was simply on. So to have someone who genuinely wants to be there, his lightner seeking him out, his lightner laughing at his jokes not out of obligation but delight, who comes back and back and back. Tenna’s screen goes brighter when you enter the room. “Goodness, honey, you’re still here! I mean... of course you are, of course, not that i thought you’d... well, i’m just glad, is all,” he says. “Not that i’m counting... You’re expected. Very expected. Welcome. You’re welcome here.”
You tell yourself you’ll leave. You do leave, actually, more than once, real life still has its claws in you and there are things to attend to, people who would notice if you simply vanished into static. But the leaving becomes the hard part, harder each time.
Nobody’s screen flickers with delight at the mere sight of you up there. Nobody rearranges their schedule to fit around your visits. You’re just a person, doing the usual things, and after being the main attraction for so long, it’s hard not to feel a bit hollow.
You start staying later. An extra hour becomes an overnight. An overnight becomes an entire weekend where you emerge blinking into the surface world only to grab a change of clothes and go straight back. Tenna doesn’t question it, too thrilled, too busy preparing your favourite segments and making sure the green room sofa has enough cushions.
“What a lovely surprise it is for me, every single time,” he admits once, very late, after the audience has gone. “Seeing my lightner walk back through that door. Never gets old, dear. Never.“
It makes you want to promise him things you can’t take back.
Why would anyone choose the grey slog of ordinary life when there’s a darkner who treats your arrival like a holiday? The games are fun, yes, and the dark world is strange, wonderful, never the same twice, but it’s him. It was always Tenna. The more you stay, the more you want to stay. It’s a feedback loop, he’s happy you're there, so you’re happy to be there, so he’s even happier, and round and round it goes until you’ve accidentally moved into his studio and can’t remember the last time you checked your phone.
Being wanted is just horribly contagious.
There is no single moment where you stand at a crossroads and choose the dark over the light. Instead, your visits simply stretch, an hour added here, a forgotten appointment there, until one afternoon you’re curled up on Tenna’s dressing room sofa and it occurs to you that you’ve been here for what feels like a very long time, and the idea of getting up to leave just seems like an awful lot of effort for very little reward.
The light world will still be there tomorrow, presumably. And if it isn’t, well, that's hardly your problem now.
You let yourself fall forward into Tenna’s chest, and he catches you, big arms wrapping around you and pulling you in close.
*banging my head against the wall* oh my god i completely misread the last ask and realised too late that i wrote it wrong . i don't know how i messed that up, i am so sorry! (╥﹏╥)
I've been on and off thinking about how entertaining it'd be to play hard to get with Tenna after finding out he really likes you, yet hasn't made the outright move to ask to date him. Stuff like acting like you're getting too close when he was the one to stand right behind you, or acting like you didn't hear him comment about you (probably your ass TBH) properly and responding with some entirely different. Just absolutely tormenting that TV until he's had enough :3c
the patience of a saint . Tenna x reader
not sure how nsfw i was allowed to go with this ask, but it's definitely suggestive!! though now that i think of it... fuck it, it's nsfw! kinda dom!reader but like, they're just teasing him
Tenna isn't very good at hiding how much he likes you, so why the hell hasn't he done anything about it yet? a gentleman calls first, a gentleman brings flowers, a gentleman absolutely does not stare at your ass while you're walking away but ohhh goodness, he's been doing plenty of that.
a perverted, desperate, pathetic coward who can't stop staring but folds the second you catch him. you've learned this, and now you're milking it for all it's worth. standing just close enough that he could lean down and catch a whiff of your shampoo, then stepping away like you forgot something in the other room, leaving him there with his grin flipped upside down and his gaze gone all droopy. bending over to adjust a cable, taking your sweet time, knowing damn well that his antennae are twitching. Tenna thinks not having eyes is gonna save him, as if the way his screen immediately tilts down every time you turn around isn't a dead giveaway. the too-long pause before he remembers he's supposed to be saying words, it's not exactly a mystery what's got his attention. you straighten up, glance back with a clueless little smile, and he recovers eventually, coughs into his fist, mumbling, “goodness, sure is balmy in here, huh?”
leaning down to pick something up reveals exactly nothing scandalous, but Tenna acts like he's been handed a glimpse of heaven itself. how easy it is. a gentleman he calls himself, but a gentleman would at least have the decency to hide the way his slacks are tenting obscenely, the outline of him pressing obvious against the zipper. it's so painfully clear what Tenna's thinking about that you almost feel secondhand embarrassment. almost. poor thing genuinely seems to believe that if he just keeps talking, about the weather, the ratings, anything, nobody will notice the way he's half-hard just from the curve of a spine bending in front of him.
the torment continues. Tenna finds reasons to be behind you now, always reaching over your shoulder for something he doesn't need, just happening to be in the same narrow hallway, offering to help you grab a box from a high shelf so he can stand right there while you're bent over.
maybe he deserves a little gold star sticker right on his screen for bravery, for finally pressing close without an excuse, but it's still not enough. you're getting bolder too. a hand planted on his chest, fingers splayed over the suit as you ask him if he's feeling alright because he seems a little warm tonight. huh, what was that? a tiny helpless thrust into nothing? Tenna's hips just bucked the air like a dog who hasn't been taught any manners and you're supposed to pretend you didn't notice? goodness..
maybe now. maybe now's the time. yes... now, definitely now. Tenna's absolutely sure of it. he's never been more sure of anything in his life. this is the moment he finally gets what he's been craving, right?
begging without saying the word, Tenna tells you that everyone's busy, starshine, nobody's around, and five minutes is all a man would need, surely that's not too much to ask, honey, just five minutes, please, he'd make it so good, he swears on his ratings.
how cute. you check your watch. oh, would you look at the time... his screen goes blank for a solid two seconds and when it flickers back on, the wide grin is trembling at the corners. no. no, no, no, this isn't happening. you're not actually looking at the time right now, are you? he finally works up the nerve, pours his heart out, promises the best five minutes of your life, and you're checking your wrist like you've got somewhere better to be?
he's not getting a damn thing, is he?
“you're leaving? oh, my star, don't do that.. c’mon.“ Tenna croaks and it's the most pathetic voice you've ever heard he could do. giggling, you pat his screen right where a cheek would be and tell him maybe next time, big guy. maybe next time.
you're already halfway down the hall, aroused as hell and proud of it, when Tenna’s hopeful voice calls you again. “y-you mean there's gonna be a next time, love? you really mean it? oh, goodness, oh! i-i'll be so good, i'll be the best, you just wait, a fella’s gonna treat you right! just say when, just say when and i'm yours, i'm all yours--“ he's still babbling long after you've turned the corner.
but next time never came. and the next time after that never came either. Tenna stopped finding it funny somewhere around day four, when his usual lurking tactics earned him nothing but a distracted wave and a “sorry, Tens, busy tonight.” the absolute torture of not knowing if you meant it or if you were just toying with him had him pacing his dressing room at odd hours. how come your schedule is suddenly always full? his little star's always got somewhere to be... and isn't that a shame.
however, Tenna's clever enough when he wants to be, which is rare, because most of the time he's too busy drooling over your backside to form a coherent thought. but when the prize is worth it, apparently the man can string two brain cells together, so eventually he decides that next time is gonna be on his terms. no more waiting by the door like some sorry salesman.
bold of him. adorable, really. watching him try to take charge after weeks of following you around like a sad puppy.
deep breath, Tenna, you've got this.
you don't even see it coming. all those weeks of reducing your TV to a staticky mess and suddenly he's figured out how to use those long legs for something other than trailing behind you. maybe he did learn something from all those game shows after all.
is there a predator lurking somewhere under all that pathetic? or is that what Tenna's telling himself while he finally, finally makes a move?
seems like your little game just got hijacked, because he's got you pressed against the wall before you can even open your mouth to tease him. of course you knew this was coming, hell, you'd been counting on it, but the sight of him now still sends a thrill up your spine. has Tenna always been this huge?
“honey... please. don't be so mean to me, we both want each other, don't we? i know you feel it too, i know you do,” big hands braced on either side of you against the wall. “you said next time, you promised... and i waited and waited and you never came back! oh sweetness, that ain't fair to a guy who's been nothing but patient, haha... you've been torturing me for weeks and for what? for fun? you could just have me, darling, you could have me right now, please, i'll be so good, so good for you, i'll make you feel so... oh, the things i'd do to you. just stop pretending you don't want this too. i'm begging you, is that what you wanna hear? i'm begging.”
you’d laugh at the way the so-called lord of the screens is standing in front of you now, an ordinary darkner, down on his knees, if he weren't panting hot and humid against your neck with little oh, oh, goodness whimpers every time your body presses back against his bulge. Tenna's hands finally land where they've been wanting to for weeks. claws out to snag fabric and drag it slow over your hips, over the curve of an ass he’s been staring at so shamelessly.
as if this pathetic TV hasn't already debased himself enough tonight, humping you like a desperate animal and panting against your neck, you decide he can go even lower. so you reach back to grab a fistful of that yellow tie and yank, making his screen knock against your shoulder with a burst of static, a garbled jeepers! crackling out as you ask him what happened to all that showman confidence.
did it evaporate the second he got on his knees? because a gentleman oughta know what to do with his mouth by now.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
omg wait while i have a rare moment of audacity..... a little while ago i anonymously posted a yuri spamtenna one-shot so if anyone's in the mood for some sesbian lex go take it <3
completely forgot to say this yesterday but i posted chapter two of my tragicomedy spamtenna fic. so far no warnings except some suggestive jokes here and there
i still don’t know what the hell is going on with ao3 links but the fic header just won’t load, so here's a screenshot with some info about the fic instead! i genuinely cannot be bothered to figure this out rn </3
blakekathryn
kaledo-art
origamiaround
germansingergirl
