#and i'm even adding an extra layer of fucked up by having him fuck a proxy who he is at all times aware isn't the real thing <3

[maulfucker]

yeah sure you can have the whole paragraph. as a treat

[voyeurmunson]

A Mess: Eddie Munson Blurb

⚠️Explicit sexual content. Minors DNI⚠️

Word count: 608

*****

"Those stains are, uh-

A knowing glance is shared between you and Eddie, a slick smile plays on your lips as you remember your many nights together.

**Flashback**

"Cum for me again, pretty girl." Eddie burns deeply, his fingers fucking into you roughly, your slick making a constant gushing sound as he plunges them in and out.

"I'm gonna cum.. gonna cum for you, Eddie.." you whimper, your hands reach down gripping his wrist tightly as you roll your hips, practically fucking his hand as if it was his cock.

Eddie kneels on the bed, hooking his arm under your back, bringing you to straddle his lap as he keeps his three fingers buried inside of you.

"Fuck my fingers, sweetheart. I want you to make a mess, soak my fucking hand." he growls in your ear as you roll your hips wildly. His other hand rests on your lower back, fingertips digging into your skin as you start to bounce.

"Jesus Christ, y/n." Eddie moans as you continue using him for your pleasure, up and down on his thick fingers, your soaked pussy clenching as your nails dig into his shoulder.

"Fuuck, Eddie..." you cry, bouncing even harder, completely losing yourself in the pleasure, gasping suddenly as Eddie slips in an extra finger.

"Sh-shit..." you whine but Eddie ignores you, taking over, slamming you back to the bed. He thrusts his fingers into you, aiming directly for your g spot. His goal to have you squirting all over his hand, leaving a beautiful mess for him.

"Yes, yes, yes!" your screams rise in volume as he repetitively drives into your sweet spot causing your body to lose control. Your fingers grasp at the sheets, reaching for anything to keep you grounded as your soul seems to leave your body.

"Cum, y/n... come on, baby." he rasps, pushing one of your knees up so he can position his head in between your thighs, waiting for your juices to flood his sheets.

He doesn't let up and you can feel your heart pounding as he brings you closer and closer, his rings adding an extra layer of pleasure, the chill felt across your entire body.

Your body convulses, twitching uncontrollably as you feel your orgasm all the way from your head to your toes. Your pussy clamps down on his fingers, spasm after spasm as you squirt around his hand.

"Oh my fucking god..." Eddie groans, sticking out his tongue, catching as much of you as he can.

You feel your slickness cover your thighs and ass as you leave a small puddle on his bed before he yanks his fingers out, burying his face instead.

You let out a filthy moan, gripping his brown curls, pressing him into you as your thighs wrap around his face firmly.

“Holy shit, baby... oh.. ohhh!" Mumbles of praise and adoration flee your lips as he laps and sucks your drenched pussy. You grind on his face, your slick coating his chin and nose as he moans into you desperately.

He holds your hips down with one hand, pushing your leg apart with the other as he begins to fuck you with his tongue. Your cum coats his long tongue as he glides it in and out.

"So good... Eddie, you fuck me so good.." the praise comes out in a whimper.

"So sweet, god you taste so sweet. Again, sweetheart. Gonna make you cum again.” he whispers against your wet lips before diving back in.

**flashback ends**

-I don't know what those stains are..." he finishes, turning in your direction with a little wink.

*Ps. This was posted originally on my main account, lithium80writer. 🖤*

[bellaturner]

Hi! I am loving the writings at the moment! I was wondering if you could write something where reader is dating Alex and also an interviewer and she has to interview him. So its all flirty and if their relationship isn’t public yet Alex constantly nearly gives it away.

I just kinda had the thought and thought it would be cute and I have no time to write atm and honestly you could probably write it better anyway lmao

Alex sat across the sofa from you, and you attempted to maintain a professional demeanor despite the playful tension in the room.

"So, mister Turner," you began, but before you could continue, he playfully interrupted.

"Oh, you sound so sexy calling me 'mister'," he teased with a mischievous grin.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his antics. "Come on, Alex," you said, raising your hands to your face in mock annoyance. "I'm trying to do my job here," you sighed, a hint of amusement in your voice.

"Sorry, babe," he apologize, but moved his hand up your thigh at the same time "I'll behave myself," he promised at the same time he fixed his sunglasses on his face.

"Al, please," you asked, once again, "I'm gonna get fired if you don't cooperate." you were practically begging this time.

"Sure, love," he said, removing his hand from you. "Ask your questions, but i'm gonna fuck you so hard after we get home." he winked at you.

You took a deep breath, attempting to regain your focus. Your boyfriend's flirtatious behavior was undeniably distracting, but you needed to continue the interview professionally. "Ahem," you cleared your throat and made another attempt. "So, Mr. Turner," you said, maintaining direct eye contact, "your band's latest album is titled 'The Car'." You pointed out this fact, well aware of the answer to the upcoming question. "Could you enlighten us on the reason behind that choice?" You asked, attempting to appear genuinely curious, though you suspected you weren't doing a great job of it.

You had been actively involved in the entire album composition process. You'd even assisted Alex, your boyfriend, and the rest of the band in brainstorming some of the song titles. You were aware that certain songs were inspired by your relationship, which added an extra layer of complexity to your professional life.

"Well," Alex began, avoiding direct eye contact with you, "we wanted it to have that perfect 'road trip' sound, you know?" he explained, trying to maintain a casual tone.

"Interesting choice," you responded, a sense of frustration creeping into your voice. You were beginning to feel exasperated with the interview, and you hadn't even reached the halfway point yet.

You decided to press on with the interview, determined to maintain your professionalism despite Alex's distractions. "I see what you mean," you replied, shifting your focus back to the questions. "The album definitely has a vibrant, on-the-road feel to it. Can you tell us more about the creative process behind it?"

Alex leaned back in his seat, appearing more relaxed as he delved into the band's creative journey. He began to share insights into their writing sessions and the stories behind some of the songs. You listened intently, trying to keep the conversation on track.

As the interview continued, you couldn't help but notice the way Alex's foot subtly brushed against your leg under the table. It sent a jolt of excitement through you, but you had to remain composed.

Throughout the interview, Alex managed to toe the line between playful banter and professional discussion. It was both exhilarating and maddening, knowing that he was purposely teasing you while you had to maintain your facade on camera.

As the interview was getting near the end, you couldn't help but exchange a subtle glance with Alex. It was a silent acknowledgment of the playful dance you'd been engaged in throughout the conversation. He smirked ever so slightly, and you knew he was eager to continue this game behind closed doors.

You wrapped up the interview with a final question about the band's upcoming tour, and Alex provided a thoughtful response.

This would be a tough one to edit - the viewers were none the wiser about your romantic involvement - but you were proud of your ability to mostly maintain your professionalism.

Once the cameras stopped rolling, Alex wasted no time. He leaned in closer, his arms trailing your body and his lips dangerously close to your ear. "You were amazing, babe," he whispered huskily, sending shivers down your spine.

"Thanks," you replied, your voice trembling with desire. "Are you taking me home now?" You asked, turning to pack your handbag.

"Oh no, cutie pie, I'm having you bent over the very table you were using to interview me." He said calmed, collected and demanding, getting out of his seat and towering you.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Hihiiii 💕

Felt like doing this one today, it's been long forgotten on my askbox, sorry, my love.

I hope you enjoy it anyway ❤️ (it was wrote while I has high on sleep meds and not prof read)

Lmk if you'd like to be tagged in my posts s2

As always, love you 💕

~ Bella

[kelloggsenthusiast]

requesting a fic about our physics teacher😍😘 ;) extra smutty!!!!!!!!! can he also say something a long the lines of "I don't see effervescence but you are definitely about to combust" thanks xxx

_sports Capt.

I am so sincerely sorry.

After hours

Teacher faceclaim: Cillian Murphy

Cw: atrocious smut.

A/N: don't go fuck your teachers guys.

This is the point of no return.

The tensions in the lab was palpable. You had come to him for help on one particular physics question that you had been struggling with for the longest time. You needed to cover all grounds with finals around the corner.

Or at least that's the excuse you gave everyone. The truth is, you've had a crush on your physics teacher since the tenth grade.

You knew it was wrong- he was you teacher. He had a wife and a daughter in the grade below.. but you'd be damned if you were graduating without doing something about this uncontrollable desire for him.

"are you paying attention?" He asks when he notices that you've zoned out.

"yeah, of course," you lie without stuttering. Your eyes flicker to his and you notice him looking at you with lust. But it's gone so quickly that you doubt that it was even there in the first place.

"so it works on the principal of thermionic emission..." He says before your mind trails off again. You stare at his lips as he explains. You wondered many times how they would taste, if you could just-

"y/n," he calls. "You and I know you're not here for me to teach you anything. At least nothing school related."

You smirk. Took him long enough.

"so will you teach me what I came here to learn, Jacob?" You ask. Without hesitation, he grabs your neck and presses a heated kiss to your lips.

"this will get both of us into so much trouble," he says between kisses. "But I can't help but want the trouble that comes with you."

You let out a breathy moan as his free hand grabs your breast and starts massaging it. You grip his shirt and kiss him back with all your might, tasting your own cherry flavored lipgloss on his lips.

His hand trails lower and goes under your gray skirt, crumpling your uniform. His fingertips brush against your pussy, sending a jolt of pleasure though your body.

"you're not even wearing panties? How long have you planned this out for?" He mocks as his fingers slip between your folds, stroking your warm, wet cunt. You moan.

"you're trouble y/n," he growls before turning you and bending you over the table. He lifts your skirt to reveal you glistening pussy to him.

"look at how wet you are, you needy slut," he growls as he pushes his middle finger and ring finger into you. The cold metal of his wedding ring causes your body to jolt with an additional layer of sick, twisted pleasure.

The headmaster could walk in at any moment, or his daughter. But that only added more fuel to this fire in your stomach.

His hand suddenly comes down on your ass with an Almighty smack. the pain quickly vanishes, leaving pleasure in its wake.

"please sir," your whimper, like a bitch in heat.

"please what? What do you want me to do for you, y/n?" He asks as he begins to glide his fingers in and out of your slick pussy.

"fuck me, please," you moan. "Need you inside me, right now."

"anything for my best student," he says before taking his fingers out of you. You hear him undo his pants and the next thing you feel is his long, think member pressing against your full ass.

He lines his throbbing member up with your soaking entrance and presses the tip against you, making you release a needy moan.

"please, sir," you beg. "Fill me up, please."

Your wish is his command as immediately the words leave your mouth, your pussy is filled balls deep with his thick, girthy shaft.

Without warning, he begins to pound relentlessly into you. You begin to moan out loud,not caring about all the noise you were making.

"if you don't shut up right now, y/n, I'm going to stop immediately," he grunts into your ear as he adjusts his angle, hitting you g-spot with every thrust of his hips.

You begin to gyrate your hips against his with every thrust of his cock, tightening the knot in your stomach.

His ruts get faster and he brings one of his hands to your front to flick your clit, adding more and more pressure with every thrust.

That is what send you over the edge.

You feel your orgasm from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes. You had been holding back for so long that it felt good to finally cum all over the cock you had been dreaming about for the last three years.

He came soon after you did, pumping your pussy full of his white, heavy load. Some of it leaked out when he pulled away from you, but he quickly scooped it up with and fingered it back into you, making you shiver at the sensation.

"this never happened, y/n, am I clear?" He says after fixing himself up.

"yes sir," you whisper, still discomposed.

Like you would ever tell.

Sorry iwas unable to use the prompt. It was already unserious as it was😭

- sadie

Taglist: @pepsfootstool-69 @rockstarnk

[texasthoughtsaboutnothing]

The Stranger and my thoughts on where each LCB Sinner is at (Long)

Hey, I actually sat down and read L'etranger, Meursault's source novel. I've got some fucking feelings about it, especially relating it to Limbus Company and what it might mean for his Canto in like 2 years.

Firstly, you should read or listen to this book. It's short, surprisingly punchy, and easy to follow. I (probably) don't have autism but I can absolutely see a read of this where the character does or is neurodivergent in some other way; beyond his relationship and evaluation of social queues and norms he also seems to deal with sensory issues. There are better people than me who should talk about this and I'm probably not adding a lot to the conversation but keeping this reading in my head for the climax added an extra layer of discomfort (intentional discomfort for the benefit of the story's message, I should say) to the whole book. But It's worth experiencing even if you disagree with that reading or have a different one.

Limbus Brainrot/Spoiler stuff from here on in.

There's always the question of where exactly each Sinner is in their story as they're on the bus. Their stories have been reinterpreted and/or jumbled in ways that make it fun to guess, so to go over each Sinner and where they are based on what we know or my theories:

Yi Sang - I'm not gonna front, I don't really get The WIngs, but this seems like a Good End AU for him. He already escaped his "Wife's" control and the sunless room and is now flying again (metaphorically, or maybe literally? i dont know help me).

Faust - Likely in the middle of the part where she's using Mephistopheles' power to do good in the world and prior to her being damned to hell. Side note, she's last to get a Canto and I bet it's not a coincidence that (afaik) she and Dante are the only two with Hell in their stories directly. My long shot call is that Faust is also Beatrice and there will be so much DantexFaust ship art in 2026.

Don Quixote - The biggest enigma. La Sangre de Sancho has gripped the imagination of the fandom and I am no exception. She's next after Heathcliff so we'll get her some time in August at the latest and I can't wait. My best guess is she's currently gallivanting and will be forced home in her Canto, assuming Don is Sancho theory isn't true. Praying her Canto is called The Impossible.

Ryoshu - In Hell Screen, the reason the painter is obsessed with torture is that he can only paint what he has seen and is trying to paint the Buddhist Hell. In his quest for his art he destroys his life and those around him, and ends up committing suicide over it. But there is a villain in the form of the Lord who beyond driving the story by requesting the screen in the first place is guilty of SA and murder. I'm expecting we're post story; the Lord is related to the five fingers, the daughter might be recast as a friend or something, and the sword Ryoshu carries is likely the screen. Nothing revolutionary in my guesses here, but it's either going to be that straight-forward or insanely abstract, where she's the lord and the painter and the daughter and the screen and the sword is the monkey or some shit.

Hong Lu - I have not yet read Dream of a Red Chamber, it's next on the list. Forgive me!

Heathcliff - Oh boy. Like many, I expect he is post-spurning by Catherine and is on his journey for his fortune on the LCB. So, his Canto will be about coming home to a beloved who is with someone else. Yes, the beloved blorbo will suffer for my amusement. Let's go 3 hours Heathmael sex scene!

Ishmael - We now know her story already kinda happened, as many expected, making this a bizarre sequel to Moby Dick. I think it gave PM a lot of room to do whatever they wanted to while still sticking to the themes of the story. Already wrote about what I loved about this and the recontextualizing of Ahab as a whale unto herself (which I don't actually know if it's in the original novel, but it wouldn't surprise me).

Rodion - A weird one. Her inciting incident happened, the murdering of the landlord/pawnbroker, but the unintentional death of the innocent sister was shifted to the entire damn block. So if I had to guess she's in the period after her crime trying to avoid being caught, but no police officer allegory has really been introduced yet. I read Crime and Punishment years ago so I can't say for certain but it feels the most loosely adapted and suffers a tad for being part of the intro. Rodya's story is in no way finished so it's up in the air. Praying for a Petrovich just so people can meet the OG Columbo.

Sinclair - Still need to read Demian, but I have a rough understanding of the plot. Also unfinished in his story, Sinclair has a long way to go to his self-realization. This feels more intentional however, I remember someone made an observation of Cinqlair as representative of his drunken college years where he's popular but unfulfilled, and I think we can extend that to all of his IDs. He seems to have the most potential of all the Sinners, so much so that I wouldn't be surprised if there's a mirror world where he's a Color unto himself. I digress, the point is he's pre Frau Eva (who if she turn's out to be the Purple Tear I will lose my mind) who is also called Beatrice at some point so what's up with that PM?

Outis - Another big mystery, especially as she isn't Odysseus but Outis, a name referencing a particular part of the Odyssey with the Cyclops. I have to imagine she's on the Odyssey, journeying home after the Smoke War (which might have some parallels with the Trojan War beyond the obvious). It's interesting all the Greek myth named Abnormalities are Hospital themed, might be something there but nothing I can parse from my limited knowledge of Greek society and folklore. While she' might be a traitor, I'm thinking she's joined Limbus Company to hide while on her journey; she might be wanted dead by something and is concealing her identity after what happened in the war.

Greg - Again, a character post-story. He was locked in a room, he metamorphized, and... well he's alive? So we've diverged from the source novel, as it's taken the allegorical meanings and made them more literal, but Hermann is still around and a major player so who knows where this will go?

Meursault - I have so many thoughts. Meursault could be anywhere in his story, but I'm going to guess it's one of two places. First guess, we're completely pre story. His Canto opens with him getting a message that Maman died today, or maybe yesterday, he doesn't know. So the whole story plays out over the course of the Canto. But more likely, and my prediction, is that he's currently in "jail" awaiting his execution or acquittal. He has already murdered a man (or done some other crime) and instead of being tried for that, he has been tried and sentenced for his peculiarities of character. Bound in the chains of others, the multitudes have tightened their hold (I'm very clever and not cringe at all).

So I have to wonder what light blinded him, overwhelmed him so much that it led to his crime? The Bright Nights and Dark Days are an obvious choice, and I'm not the first to suggest it. Perhaps he distorted? Anyway, his story ends with him having given up on acquittal and instead hoping for a crowd of people hating him as he approaches the guillotine. I'm super interested in how this will play out in Limbus, especially as he must survive for gameplay purposes.

Also, Meursault is so horny. Like, oh my god. Half of his thoughts are of Marie, specifically of wanting her and all the connotations that contains. He spurns God in the face of a Chaplain, saying that He is worth nothing compared to a single hair on a woman's head. Meursault is not a romantic but not just some horndog either, his desire for sex and women and their bodies feels like an extension of his worldview centered on the immediacy of life and not just debauchery or hedonism. It's a part of the idea life is lived as today, yesterday, and tomorrow, and there is joy and happiness in that simplicity. I feel like this will get cut for Limbus but I hope it isn't, I want Meursault to casually admit he desires every Sinner on the bus carnally (yes the men and NB too, probably just a HC but I do believe that the City is a binormative society based on its already loose relationship to gender identity).

So uh, that's the thoughts so far. Merry Christmas, I guess.

[maplleaf]

"Snow and Stars"

Dainsleif x gn!reader

{cw: Dain pining harder than when Khaenri'ah got destroyed}

BRO I HAD THIS IN MY DRAFTS FOR LIKE 2 MONTHS AND NEVER GOT AROUND TO CONTINUING IT 💀

You sighed, the calming warmth after hours of walking around the cold mountain that is Dragonspine finally hits you. The curse that the Gods gave hurts as hell sometimes, but it does ive an extra layer of resistance to the cold.

Surviving the Cataclysm as a Khaenri'ah citizen seems more like a curse than a blessing. The literal curse that the Gods inlaid upon you is a sore thumb. Not wanting to gain attention from people; and possibly Gods, you retreated to Dragonspine. The barren snowland making it easy for you to blend in, it's been like that for the past 500 years.

Unfortunately someone at the Adventurer's Guild decides it would be great to start using Dragonspine as the 'peak of an adventurer's strenght', causing many adventurers to come here.

The sudden interests of adventurers made you uneasy. They pop up unexpectedly in Dragonspine when the only reason you're here is to avoid people for fuck's sake!

You swear to your long-gone homeland that the adventurer would get frostbite.

Just as your legs were starting to feel less numb, you hear footsteps coming from behind.

"Shouldn't you be resting somewhere more safe?"

Ah yes, that deep and recognizable voice. "Dain, you need something?" Just as you looked back, you realized how Dain isn't looking the best as usual, "abyss fight again?"

"You could describe it as that," Dainsleif sat besides you. It's common to see the Twilight Sword alongside you. As the few Khaenri'ah survivors of the Cataclysm who still has their humanity left, the both of you got along well.

You both stayed quiet whilst looking at the corrupted dragon's heart in front of you two; the heavier air doesn't affect the both of you but it does give warmth around the cave. "It's really unsettling that the heart is still beating..." you commented.

Dainsleif chuckled, "then look for another cave to seek warmth, a fire would suffice."

You disregarded his idea with a scoff, "with all the adventurers running around? No thanks. They'll end up dragging me to Mondstadt as a new species of hilichurl or something."

You leaned back against the red ground you're sitting on, feeling much more at ease with the calming warmth and no sounds of anyone else nearby, and of course the added safety from Dainsleif. "So, are you here to regain some energy or just to comment on my life decisions?"

"I wanted some companion, that's all," Dainsleif answered truthfully. After seeing his past soldier back at the Chasm, he wanted some time to be with someone from his past again; even if the two of you didn't know eachother back then.

"A companion," you couldn't help but laugh, "worked out well last time." Dainsleif's lack of words made you feel guilty for the jab, "but I'm glad you came to me, the snowy mountains started to feel lonely."

When the traveler's sibling joined the abyss, Dainsleif devoted his next hundreds of years to prevent them from destroying Teyvat. He expected it to be a long and lonely path; to which his expectations are broken when he finds himself befriending someone with the same curse as him within the snowstorms of Dragonspine.

"It is much safer at least," Dainsleif glances at you; the last person he knows from his homeland that, like him, prefers the peace that reigns over Teyvat now.

He doesn't remember the exact moment when he fell for you, his feelings more like raindrops than a hard pouring rain that comes out of nowhere. Your presence brings him comfort he thought he didn't deserve anymore, sometimes he feels that he doesn't even deserve you.

Even with all those thoughts, Dainsleif still finds himself getting closer to you, and he's scared.

Dainsleif have lost too many things; his homeland, his people, his companion. Thoughts about you leaving him when he's vulnerable, or some kind of disaster taking you away makes him scared.

The Twilight Sword would rather distance himself away than to see you in danger. Chances are is that Dainsleif himself is the person who would endanger you with all the enemies he made.

You couldn't help but glance at the former knight. I's rare to see Dainsleif look so, for the lack of a better term, absent-minded. You've seen him focused before, yet it's the first time he has this expression.

Your hand subconsciously start to move as you fall into temptation.

Poke

The twilight sword held the cheek that you poked with your finger, a small hue of pink shades his face; it's almost invisible if you're not looking at it closely, "What're you doing?"

You couldn't help but smile at his adorable reaction. It's probably the first and last time you'll see him flustered, so it's best to savor the moment.

"Nothing," Dainsleif didn't seem too convinced with your answer but brushed it off anyway.

You wonder how long it'll take for him to realize that you know about his infatuation towards you.

[sunlightandsuffering]

Lys, what's the deal with frat boy Eren and feminist Mikasa's past? I know they met at least in high school and are neighbors, that their friendship took a turn for the worse. Did Eren take Mikasa's virginity in high school or college?

omgomg, okay this is getting added to my drabble doc lol, so don't be alarmed if I copy and paste this and ur ask appears again on another post lol!!! But honestly I think I have to figure them out, I really like them being like chilhood friends first, like it jsut adds a fun extra layer to their dynamic! Bc they can drive back home from school together and u have their moms conspiring to get them together and Mikasa is like I HATE HIM!! And u know they do Christmas Eve together and shit lmfaoooo and it causes MUCH chaos !!! BUT i think i wrote a drabble that sort of explains it already, don't know where it went tho lmfao.

But basically, at some point in high school, Mikasa goes Feminist Ultra TM and it becomes part of her personality, and Eren is all for it at first. AND THEN, it begins bc men are awful and Eren is like hOW AM I SUPPOSED TO COMPETE WITH THIS!?!?!? Bc all of Mikasa's friends start getting boyfriends and as occurs in high school relationships, drama ensues and jealousy and it all just poisons Mikasa against men further. And there is Eren, her best friend, 'only man she trusts' AND HE'S BASICALLY BEEN COCK BLOCKED MY FEMINISM!!! She's like I'm never dating, ew men. And Eren is sitting there like 😦😧🧍🏻 I AM A MAN??? I found the drabble tho i'll paste it at the bottom and u can sort of see what I'm going for? Idk if it makes sense tho lol!! Essentially tho, Eren is kind of hopeless bc Mikasa is always hating on men, and he's like a little kid, any attention is good attention, even if it's bad. And so he become MENINIST EREN !! Just bc it gets a rise out of her, and at the very least, she's looking at him now as more than just her wholesome best friend who doesn't count as a man lmfao.

As for the virginity part, as much as I'd love for it to be in high school and have them like have a more solid history, I think it happens in college purely bc that's just where their relationship really sparks ! But idk i gotta get my thoughts together before I write a HARDCORE drabble for them, this was just me spitballing i think

It’s not that Eren hates women. He doesn’t, he really doesn’t, he actually loves women, adores them. 

Mikasa, his childhood best friend turned enemy, well she just brings it out in him. 

He loves watching her get riled up, the fire in those beautiful silvery eyes of hers, it was intoxicating. Fighting became foreplay, and before he knew it, he was a glorified meninist, whatever the fuck that is. 

He can still remember the day it started, the tenth grade probably, Mikasa merrily stomping into class, armed with new knowledge: the wage gap, benevolent sexism, implicit gender bias. And Eren had watched, with horrified eyes as his tender spark of romance with the world’s most beautiful girl, the love of his life was crushed, lit aflame right in front of him… by fucking feminism of all things. Because how was he supposed to compete with a concept, even attempt a relationship when there were limitless facts about how awful men were? How was he supposed to compete with the faults of mankind? Thus, Mikasa didn’t date, she was waiting for a boy so perfect, that he could combat sexism itself, a feminist ally she said. 

Newsflash, they didn’t really exist, at least not in Eren’s experience, and thus, Eren became the very antithesis of everything she represented. And well, here they are. 

He’d been intrigued the first time it happened, an accident at a frat party when she was too drunk to remember much of anything at all. They’d made out a little before snuggling in his bed and Eren had slept contently for the first time in years.

He’d woken up the following morning to a scowl on her face and a hand on his dick, demanding he teach her what all the fuss was about. They’ve been enemies with benefits ever since. 

And Eren finds that despite their rabid dislike of one another, that he quite enjoys their new dynamic.

[byullielle]

Spoiled Rotten // Lee Know x Han Jisung

Certain situations where you'd simply think, "Minho really is in love with Jisung, isn't he?"

Tags: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Minsung, Cuddling, Mentions and Discussions of Anxiety, Light Angst, Est. Relationship, No Reader Involved,

disclaimer: if talking about mental health affects you negatively the more sensitive part is right under 'A Bad Day,' if you don't like discussions of mental health and mild angst, scroll down to 'The Masterful Cat'. i am in no way putting words into jisung's mouth, this is fictional and may inaccurately depict how he's feeling these days.

The Twitter Incident

"You don't follow Minho hyung's private twitter?" Seungmin raises his head from the couch as Jisung furrows his brows at him, "He has a private twitter?"

"Dear god," Jeongin groans and flops a pillow on his face, making Jisung recoil in confusion a bit. "I'm...sorry?"

"No no not you, hyung," Jeongin exasperatedly sighs while furiously scrolling through his phone, "Minho hyung needs to though cause what I know now is infuriating," he starts to ramble on, Jisung still confused about what the fuck was even happening. And before Jeongin could pull it up Seungmin is shoving the phone into Jisung's hand, Minho's private Twitter account opened.

"I was about to ask where you ate yesterday," Seungmin explains, "Because of the recent post,"

"Oh god," Jisung could feel his cheeks heat up as he scrolls, it was the same pattern; text tweet, cat retweet, and three Jisung tweets with the sappiest, cringiest captions known to man. It wasn't a surprise that Minho loved silently doting on Jisung but this was a whole layer he had yet to grasp from Minho's cold dead hands. "Honestly, it's like following a Jisung fansite except it's all lovey-dovey and gross," Jeongin mutters before Minho enters the room, "What's gross and lovey-dovey?"

The three jolt up in shock, a startled noise escaping Seungmin as he grabs his phone from Jisung while the latter lets out an embarrassed squawk. The older man looks at the three of them with suspicion, his cat eyes scanning each of them one by one before Jeongin decides to speak up, "Seungmin hyung, let's get a drink?" he gently nudges, shooting an apologetic look towards Han who looks absolutely betrayed. "Traitor," he mumbles under his breath, still embarrassed with the current information he has now.

"What happened?" Minho raises a brow, slightly accusatory towards Jisung before he stammers and scrambles around for words, "You have a fansite of me?!"

"What?!" Minho replies in shock back, the two of them staring at each other like they've grown extra heads.

"Y-Your private twitter!" Jisung points at him, "W-Why's your private twitter so...full of me?! And why am I not in it?"

Minho takes a while to process it before it connects. "Kim Seungmin," he deathly growls out and Jisung scrambles up to his feet to delay Seungmin's further demise. "Calm down,"

"No. You've found something I have to take someone to the grave for,"

"I-" Jisung blocks his path, a cute pout on his lips, "I'm not mad about...you posting me," he finishes as Minho's brows quirk up a bit, mildly surprised before shrugging like he wasn't livid the other minute.

"Is that so," he hums

"But lessen your posts about me, geez hyung," Jisung shyly mutters before Minho chuckles and pinches Jisung's ear between his fingers, gently cajoling his face closer, "Your ears are red,"

"So are yours," Jisung frowns and Minho places a soft and chaste kiss on his jutted-out bottom lip, "For the record, nobody can stop me,"

Jisung groans and pushes Minho away playfully, his face still steadily heating up as he covers his ears. "Fine, play it your way,"

And after Kim Seungmin's funeral—Jisung kicked Minho out of his own private twitter. Unless his boyfriend added him, he could post all~ the Minho pictures his little quokka heart so desires.

Cheesecake (and how to bait a boyfriend with it)

Minho sighs in relief as he removes the lock around the freshly refrigerated cheesecake. Felix helped him throughout most of the process, even borrowing the utensils he always used to make pastries and to say he was proud of himself was quite an understatement. He excitedly pulls his phone out and takes a picture, immediately sending it to Jisungie. Basically throwing the line into the water.

And before Minho could even close his phone, Jisung replies. After the quick exchange, he inputs a pod into Seungmin's coffee maker, ice into the glass it dispenses it into before making a mental note to pay him back after. In 6 minutes tops, Jisung knocks on their door before letting himself in, Minho's back turned to him with the kitchen sink up and running.

"Ah you're here," he looks back to see Jisung dressed in the biggest hoodie (assuming he stole it from Chan's laundry), making him look way smaller than he already is. "Go take how much you like, I made cheesecake," he instructs while rinsing off the spatula he used.

Jisung's brows rise up in pleasant surprise, "You made cheesecake,"

"I made you cheesecake, don't get it twisted," Minho clarifies which makes Jisung giggle as he walks up to the kitchen counter, Americano to pair with the sweet treat. "Thanks hyung," Jisung shyly thanks him before observing the perfect slice, seeing the entirety of the cake by the corner, "It looks and smells great," he mutters while placing the plate close to his nose.

"I didn't want to mess it up by adding extras so soon so you have to deal with a plain one,"

Jisung beams up at him with all his heart-mouth glory. "If hyung makes it it's immediately my favorite thing," he gushes before taking a forkful and pops it into his mouth. Minho stops washing the dishes momentarily to look at his reaction. He doesn't quite hum the way he does if extremely likes a cheesecake flavor but his eyes light up nonetheless, hand held up to his mouth and his brows shooting for the skies, "Tastes healthy," Jisung beams after he finishes the one bite before immediately taking another.

Relieved rather than pleased, Minho turns to the dishes and takes a mental note to make it a bit sweeter next time. Maybe add a few berries so that he doesn't go into a sugar crash.

Wiping his hands dry, Minho notices that Jisung has taken the liberty of picking up another slice. He sits beside Jisung, watching him stuff his face. Contentment floods his system, simply satisfied with watching and being around Jisung. Safe to say his main reason for making the cheesecake was successful.

He suddenly finds himself face to face with a fork loaded with a piece of cheesecake. He looks up at Jisung with a confused look until he gets the message to 'just take a bite hyung'. He shrugs and figures it's useless fighting it as he opens up and takes a bite.

It does taste "healthy" as Jisung describes, which to Minho is not overly sweet and just right but knowing his sweet-tooth of a boyfriend is going to be a little bit lacking. He finally verbalizes it, making Jisung beam up at him sweetly—"I'll make it sweeter next time,"

Lego Flowers

Either way, Jisung sends the link with a victorious smile on his face, knowing damn well that Minho wouldn't pass up an opportunity to say yes to his request. Jisung wasn't demanding by any means, usually gifts given by Minho are unasked yet greatly appreciated. But this time Jisung personally thinks it'll be such a cute idea if he and Minho built flowers together since he has long disproved of Minho sending flowers to the 3RETCHA dorm because they die off too quickly.

"Why are you smiling at your phone like an idiot?" Hyunjin lightheartedly chastises, making Jisung stick his tongue out before locking it and setting it face down on the table. "Why bother asking, you know why," Changbin comments, wiping sweat off his forehead due to his post-workout sending Jisung a look of, 'Question is what did Minho do to make you smile,'

"It's a secret," Jisung answers the wordless question.

Needless to say, he was extremely excited.

The moment Seungmin calls Minho for one Amazon express delivery, he haul-asses to Jisung's dorm—iced americano and lego set on hand. "Oh you're here," Changbin flatly greets while opening the door, making Minho roll his eyes at him before the younger's eyes drift towards Minho's loaded hands, "Ah so that's what he was giggling about 3 days ago," he mindlessly spews out before moving aside for Minho.

He couldn't deny that there was a sense of pride and joy hearing that Jisung was giggly about the entire ordeal. But he kept his mouth shut either way. He makes his way in and Jisung comes bolting out his room with a wide smile on his face, "Hyung! You really got it for me!" he happily saunters to him and takes the box, observing it closely.

"What would you have done if I didn't," Minho sets the Americanos down with a smile, Jisung's excitement very infectious. "Hm? I dunno, I'll buy it myself," he answers before leaning against Minho's shoulder, looking up at his boyfriend with his renowned baby girl eyes. "Thank you hyungie," he smiles, genuine and sweet which makes Minho's heart squeeze up.

"You're welcome Jagiya," he reciprocates the smile and kisses his forehead. "Now help me assemble it!" he excitedly detaches from Minho's shoulder, grabbing both his hand, the lego set, and the coffee into the living room. He pulls the coffee table closer before setting everything down. Minho lets himself be whisked away, weak to Jisung's whims.

In an hour, they've finished three flowers, the other remaining parts on the coffee table while Jisung's legs are comfortably propped up against Minho's legs, his knees turning into some sort of leaning table as they softly talk and bicker while forming the bouquet.

Changbin might've taken a picture of them both should he want a favor from Minho but that's an entirely different story.

A Bad Day

Minho pants out, hands on his knees as he struggles to catch his breath. Once he gets his bearings together and wipes his sweat off, he rapidly knocks on the door to see Chan with relief washing over his features. "He's in his room," he simply supplies, "Get him to eat something too please,"

"I will," he nods before stepping in. He darts to Jisung's room before softly knocking, twisting the knob, and peering inside to see a lump of blankets on the bed. Jisung's head pops out with a small frown etched on his lips Jisung lets Minho in.

"Sorry it's messy," he softly apologizes, barely audible if Minho's proximity wasn't close. It was one way to put it—his bed was undone, expected since he was 100% sure Jisung never left the bed before he came, there were undiscarded cups and three bowls on his desk, and his make-up and skincare were cluttered all over his small vanity and the 'clothes chair,' was already full, a few items on the floor. 

"Go lay down jagiya, I'll just take care of these a bit," Minho slots his hand between the hoodie and Jisung's soft cheeks, caressing the skin with fervor and absolute gentleness before running his hand through his hair quickly.

Jisung just quietly nods, far used to Minho cleaning up after him on bad days. He felt guilty but his boyfriend would make sure he does the job with a smile just to ease the negative feelings off him. 

He starts picking the unused utensils and kitchenware out, pacing around the 3RETCHA dorm to dispose of them quickly. It was relatively quiet–none of the others attempting to ask about Jisung just yet. 

He goes back and sees Jisung cuddled up beneath the sheets, watching his every move as he folds up the clothes piling up on the chair and makes every toppled-down toner or ointment on his vanity stand up straight in an organized pile.

"Thank you," he speaks up from the sheets before Minho approaches and slumps down towards him, making Jisung airlessly gasp and giggle, "Ah hyung," he softly whines while Minho jostles him to the side, sitting up against the headboard before placing Jisung's head on his trusty thighs.

"Hello cutie,"

"Hi hyung," Jisung greets, smile not as wide as he'd prefer but for now it would suffice.

"Bad day?"

"Bad month," he mutters, closing his eyes as Minho cards his fingers through his hair, gently patting it under his white hood. Minho frowns, "Do you want to talk about it jagi?"

Jisung knows that even if Minho is supportive, he couldn't quite word it in a way that would make sense for a person who doesn't regularly go into monthly slumps and bouts of anxiety. Alas, he tries.

"I feel so sucked out of energy hyung. Like not even eating or drinking one of those energy tonics could help," he sighs putting an arm over his eyes as Minho's ministrations halt, "I just wanna lay down all day and not head out but at the same time my subconscious is yelling and fighting me to get up and work. I'm guilty I feel this way," he quietly rambles, voice starting to get a bit shaky, "I thought I could push it down further. I really did, but I just can't," he squeaks.

Minho hums, knowing better than to say anything as he feels Jisung tremble under his touch, a soft sniffle escaping him before sobs wrack his body. "It's okay jagiya," he lovingly loves his back, leaning forward to kiss away the tear streaking Jisung's cheek, "Cry it out okay? I'll be here," he softly whispers as the younger man grasps his hand, just keeping it there for stability as he cries his worries away.

It was hard for Minho to witness Jisung breaking into pieces, and he also carried the knowledge that it'll forever be harder for Jisung. He was so ready to steal the moon and stars for his little quokka, the love of his life and he just so wishes that he could easily kiss every single anxious thought of Jisung away. Although it wasn't as possible as he'd like, there would always be moments like these, and the best he could do is stay.

Petting his hair as Jisung dozes off with tears lining his eyelashes like constellations, Minho sighs out and presses a soft kiss to his lips, leaning back into the headboard before taking his phone out to text Chan, to bring water and a light snack; maybe crackers or rice cakes.

The eldest then peers his head into the door after 5 minutes, food and a drink in tow before setting it down on Jisung's nightstand, mindfully moving carefully so as to not rouse the tired man from his sleep. "He okay?"

"He will be," Minho assures, "He just needs a while,"

The Masterful Cat

With a bag of convenience store snacks, Jisung inputs the code into the Minho + Maknae dorm, not bothering to knock since BokSeungAri were all out, leaving the dorm all to themselves. Minho was already setting the living room TV up when Jisung arrives, their Crunchyroll subscription finally put into good use for a while. "I come bearing gifts!" Jisung lifts the bag up proudly, making Minho softly smile before patting the couch down, "Get comfy, I'll just throw the trash then I'm all yours,"

"Ah, I hope my body pillow would hurry with the chores~" Jisung singsongs while airing out the properly folded blanket. It was fluffy and smelled fresh out of the dryer which makes Jisung somehow extra happy. "Bold of you to assume I'm the body pillow," Minho rolls his eyes before heading out to dump their daily garbage.

Getting himself comfortable, Jisung leans back against the cushions, cradling one of Jeongin's couch pets into his arms while Minho washes his hands and then, dramatically plops himself onto Jisung. A soft 'oof' is knocked out of him before he reaches over for a snack, opening it as Minho presses play on the remote.

They watch and concentrate on the show, Jisung occasionally feeding Minho some chips and quipping about how the cat is so much like Minho, a coy malewife with the penchant for perfection and being a menace. "The animation is a bit too grand," he mumbles as Minho hums, his head on Jisung's stomach. Ever since falling behind on gym, his stomach has gotten way more softer, and he loves it so much.

When the episode ends, Minho groans and stretches, never detaching from Jisung's body before burying his face in Jisung's tummy, reaching behind and giving his ass a comforting squeeze. The younger male just giggles at the slightly ticklish contact. "Hyung~ what are you doing jagiya?" he tilts his head as Minho looks up, "Healing time," he simply supplies, sending blood to Jisung's ears and cheeks. "W-What else do you wanna watch hm?" he reaches for the remote before he makes eye contact with Minho again.

And he couldn't help it, not when his pretty boyfriend is lazily lounging on his stomach just staring up at him with nothing but adoration, does he lean down and capture Minho's lips into a kiss. It isn't heated nor deep, but it made their hearts full, souls happy. SO happy that Jisung couldn't help but smile against his lips before pulling back.

"Something funny?" Minho furrows his brows before the latter shakes his head. "I just love you,"

And Minho smiles, pressing another kiss up his cute lips, slotting together like they were molded for each other to hold, "I love you too, jagiya,"

if you wanna send in a prompt or an ask or just say hi feel free to do so!!

[mamawasatesttube]

Flamebird Kon Guy again (I should start leaving some kinda signature), and Yes!! There’s so much about Krypton and it’s culture that cna be played with, and just barely gets touched on in regards to Kon and the other Kents and then being immigrants!! Like, on Krypton, clones literally had a civil war, and then centuries later, all of the children were born artificially anyways. Literally, Kon would be considered Clark’s kid by their standards, and that’s just never brought up or talked about!!

I’m a bit denier of the Bad Dad Clark fanon shit, but I do want to say, it would be so so INTERESTING to see this type of scenario played with. Kon who compares himself to Clark constantly, and has expressed insecurity over Clark keeping secrets from him and what he (Kon) means to him. And like, Clark has always rushed to assure Kon whenever these insecurities are made known, so something like this would have so much potential!!

But DC is too busy being Mfing haters 😒😒

Anywhores, sorry for the tangent. But this also plays into why I love Flamebird!Kon so much! Because there’s so much that can be explored with Kon taking that name. Imagine Clark telling him about Flamebird, a creature of passion who destroys not because she takes pleasure in it, but because it’s her duty to keep the spark from going out. Kon proudly wearing a name that Clark said he would be a good fit for, and every time they’re together or every time he’s alone, he can’t help but preen because it’s another name that Clark bestowed upon him, and that means something!!

okay first off "anywhores" cracked me up so shoutout to that <3. i just didnt see that coming at ALL hdfjkshdkjHd

anyway. yeah "bad dad clark" is my enemy and i'm setting this particular bit of fanon on fire and throwing it off a cliff. like... here's the nicest guy in the world! also he just hates this teenager for no reason. GET REAL. it's SOOOO much more interesting to give them a nuanced relationship (i also don't subscribe to them having a 100% nuclear family label in any way; i think it's somewhere between "brothers" and "father/son" and also both of them at the same time and also neither. no label fits them too well outside of simply "family"). but them having the struggle of "kon, esp younger early-in-his-narrative kon, craving parental affection from clark, who isn't quite able to give that to him the way he wants" is ABSOLUTELY my cup of tea and im so here for adding the extra layer of old kryptonian vs newer kryptonian culture as a further confounding variable. let them be complex and multifaceted!! the love is there but so are the issues, etc.

re: that last paragraph i can't also help but think of The Agonies... kon defining himself so much by clark's pride in him as a concept makes me wail into my hands. it's in-character Esp again when he's younger but also babygirl you are also your own person!!!! id love a narrative w flamebird kon where he first is so proud of it bc of clark but then grows to forge his own connection to flamebird's mythos and the deity herself too, in addition to the connection to his heritage through clark. kon's narrative re: individuality is just so gripping to me (even if we kinda have to imagine a lot of it bc dc does not want to deliver lmao) and that could be such a fun additional angle on it.

also this whole thing in general made me remember again how mad i am that rebirth just completely nuked the entire kon & clark relationship. clark just doesnt fucking remember him and by the looks of it/the way they wrapped it up so neatly re: house of kent arc, he never will. what the fuck!!!!! rebirth get out of my house bendis do NOT interact!!!!!!

[tobiasdrake]

I don't think the Tower of Time likes me very much.

Really driving home the idea that I need to learn patience and not to rush stupidly into things. This is almost like training. Highly lethal training.

But given my contract with Quarble, does lethality even mean anything? I'll become a For Realsies Messenger and get sent to some point in time to... I guess, deliver a message... if I make it through without dying. But since I can't die in any way that matters, this is more of a training gauntlet than a mortal test.

Is that a bug of the Messenger system, or a feature?

NOPE FUCK THIS PLACE

Third option: Cruel prank. A cruel prank of the Messenger system. Shopkeeper's watching me on CCTV and laughing as my flesh melts from my skin and my bones are ground into powder.

To be honest, there's something beautiful about this space we're in. I know we're, like... temporally unmoored or something. But you can see the Sea of Stars out there in the great beyond and it really makes you think about how small you are in the grand....

...

*Ahem*

You can see the Sea of Stars out there in the great beyond and it really makes you think about how small you are in the grand scheme of things. Like an insignificant mote of dust, made meaningful only by your collisions with the other motes around you, in an ever-changing whirlwind of noise and light.

It's moments like this that make our bonds with each other resonate so strongly. Because in our own way, we're all stars in that vast cosmos. But it's only together that we can form into constellations.

...

Even if some of us shine a little brighter than others.

My spine was punched up a mountain by a naked wrestler I am entitled to a little bit of narcissism right now. The cosmos owes me that.

...Luana?

Probably not. She looks much more like my new buddy-pal, the Monkshroom.

These are definitely Messengers, yeah. <.< >.> And I call this one. This jacked, cool-looking guy is totally me.

Oh, goddammit. I already called dibs on that other one but this guy is way more jacked and manly. Is it too late to change my mind?

Final corridor before boss. Typically, this is where a portal to the Shopkeeper would be, so he can brief me on what's about to happen.

But. I guess. Since his room is a physical space in this very tower, there can't be portals into it from here. So I'm just fucked.

Dammit, I like bantering with him.

Nope, never mind. I'm just terrible with pattern recognition. Haha, banter time!

To be honest, I'm about half-convinced that the Tower of Time is made from solid chaos, with rooms that move and change on a whim. Like CastleVania. The physical place, not the franchise as a whole.

The important thing is that now that we exist in physical space--

FUCK ON A CRACKER AND CALL IT COITUS CRINGLES Why not!? We're already elbow-deep in your ancient secrets; What could possibly be so important that it needs to be kept under extra layers of super special bonus secrecy!

*heavy sigh*

Wait, the test was for willpower? Okay, so I guess that answers that. Feature. The real test was being stubborn enough to not give up.

Really makes you wonder about those three losers who died in the foyer. What catastrophe of low self-esteem brought them all the way to the Tower of Time only to give up and quit three lasers in?

Well, if that's what this is about then I'll have you know, I am very talented at dying fruitlessly. Quarble can vouch for me. I never learn my lesson.

"You are a testament to your goddess's teachings."

THANK YOU.

Wait, is this going to hurt? Because I've just been carved up by so many lasers that I'm pretty sure they gave me retinopathy. I wasn't really looking for another fight.

HOLY SHIT

That is DEFINITELY the Artificer. Or at the very least, Artificer-adjacent. This whole tower already had an Artificer-esque vibe but this reeks of Artificer. Blue robot? Pink crystals? This can't not be Artificer tech.

...so much for being a non-combatant. He's had time to upgrade. Goddess, I hope he did not take your advice and install a mobile Eclipse Cannon in his chest.

You know what, never mind. He's still basically a non-combatant. This guy is all flash and no substa--

*indignant* Well I wouldn't have if I didn't get distracted by me underestimating him! I refuse to take responsibility for this.

This seems safe. CATCH ME NOW, CHILD LABOR VIOLATIONS!

Why do I yell things?

[laladellakang]

Can you put Della into these scenarios with the members as drabbles?

https://vm.tiktok.com/TTPdmqV2Hv/

since there are only five, i added two more from two other requests 🌛

eomma assists yang seokwoo (years later into the future)

"What are you two doing?" Jungwon walked into the kitchen.

"We're making hotcakes, appa," Della whispered to Seokwoo.

"We're making hotcakes, appa," Seokwoo repeated while pouring milk into a cup.

"Wahh, hotcakes are so delicious," Jungwon leaned against the counter beside Seokwoo. "Can I have some?" but the younger Yang shook his head. "I can't?! Why not?!"

"Everyone can a hotcake except for appa," Della couldn't handle her laughter.

"Then what should I do to get one?" Seokwoo is pretty much done as the mixer and his mom does the rest.

"If appa gives me a hug then I give- woah!" Jungwon immediately lifted him up and spun around. "Appa gets hotcakes!"

"Nah, I'm gonna have you instead," he pretended to bite Seokwoo, making the kid scream.

"u guys were at the airport and it was crowded by fans all around u, so they pull u in to protect u"

Even though everyone was more prepared during Enhypen's short trip to Germany, it was still difficult for the group to smoothly make their way through.

Della, being the only girl (and possibly the most hated member), had extra security. Both from the company and one certain member.

"Della-ya," Heeseung gestured for her to come near him. "Hold onto my arm and don't let go, yeah?" he hooked her arm around his and held her tight.

"Thank you, oppa," she nuzzled her head into his neck, just the way he likes it.

"Keep your head straight later, you need to be fully focused," he really didn't want her away, but it was for his baby's safety.

Heeseung's grip was extra tight when they made it out. Though because Della didn't have her hands tied like last time, she was able to actually protect her men more.

So in the end, Della seemed more like the guard than Heeseung.

sometimes della has weird urges(?)

"Della has been very... bite-y nowadays," Jungwon said in a group V-Live.

"That's right! I was just chilling on the sofa when she suddenly bit my arm-ack! Della!" Jay pulled his arm back. "See!"

"You've been wearing so much sleeveless shirts lately! It makes you look so appetising!" some of the boys snorted and tried to hold back their cheeky grins. "-'cause you look so cute!"

"Jay-hyung wearing sleeveless is cute?!" "Jay wearing sleeveless is cute?!" the boys laughed.

"I wear them because they're cool and you think it- ow! Kang Della!" she giggled and hugged his arm before he could get away.

"He complains but he never asks me to stop," she grinned.

"I think he secretly likes it," Niki mumbled under his breath.

"u were eating and ur hair kept getting in ur face so they brush it behind ur ear"

"Your hair," Jake giggled at the sight of Della's hair constantly interrupting her eating.

"Ah, 어떻게," she said in a monotone voice, only flicking her head and continued to take a bite. [eotteohke]

"Fix your hair," Heeseung pointed the returning hair with a grin.

"Ahh," she whined. She pushed all her hair to her left shoulder but some of her layers kept coming back. "Screw it," she took another bite.

Jake took the liberty of placing the fallen pieces behind her ear and keeping his hands there.

"Thank you," she let out a soft smile. "You don't have to keep holding it."

"I want to."

"u guys sneak out at night to a park and just hang out, few days later pics of u guys sitting next to eachother on the swings go viral"

"Park Sunghoon! Kang Della!" Heeseung called out. "You didn't go out with a manager last night?!" he barged into Della's room, where the two were sleeping.

"Huh?" Sunghoon immediately sat up from the bed.

"Check your phones. Three managers have texted me already, asking for you two," Heeseung pointed towards their phones before leaving.

"Sorry oppa! We silenced it on purpose," Della mumbled the last part and checked her phone. "'Enhypen's Sunghoon and Della spotted having a late night date in a park,' what the fuck? Why didn't they save this for when they wanna reveal-"

"Wait what? Can I see?" Sunghoon still hasn't picked up with phone. "Why are they pestering us about? The fact that people took pictures-"

"Because we sneaked out, oppa. Why else?" it's no secret these two constantly lag whenever they just wake up. Though Sunghoon's errors are slightly worse than Della's.

"Mmm," he laid back down with his head on Della's stomach. "THEY CAUGHT US?!" his eyes widen as he abruptly sat back up again.

"u guys doing a vlive and them just staring at u, admiring u"

"Why don't you use a ruler to draw the lines?" Sunoo asked while accompanying Della do Calladella.

"Sometimes I do but I just like the hand-drawn look it gives when I do it freehand," she explained without looking up from her work.

"Mmm," they were quiet for a few moments. "It's really pretty."

"Thank you! It's turning out well, isn't it?" she chirped without turning her head again.

She could hear Sunoo (and a staff)'s suppressed laugh so she decided to look at him.

"Oh!" she smiled in realisation. He was staring at her. He meant she was pretty. "Thank you, darling. You're way prettier than me though."

"Noo," he got all shy and hit her shoulder. "Ahh! Whyy!" he whined, hiding his face behind her.

"yall were filming an mv or something and u were wearing revealing/light clothing so u were cold so they take off their jacket and make u wear it"

Enhypen summer comeback means light and (slightly more) revealing clothing. Honestly speaking, all of the members prefer it that way.

Yet there was something that they tend to look past. Hot weather equals strong blasts from the air conditioner/ventilation.

Although it felt nice at first, Enha soon realised that the interview venue was cold. Della’s abdomen (free from any garment) was freezing. She thought she was used to revealing tops, but she proved herself wrong that day.

“Ah! It’s so hot!” Niki removed his outer during the break. “Lala, can you hold my jacket? You can wear it if you want,” he noticed that she was constantly touching and hugging her abs.

“Okay,” she smiled. Luckily, her outfit was simple enough for her to put it on without messing it. ‘ありがとう,’ she mumbled. [arigatou = thank you]

“Is it good enough?” he asked, reaching over to touch her shoulder.

“It’s perfect. It even smells like you,” her eyes sparkled, eyeing him with so much love. “Really- thank you so much.”

[n30n-le0n]

[It had to come to a head eventually. Leo just wouldn't have guessed it would be so soon.

He'd been lingering around the firehouse for several days--or maybe it was weeks, days had tended to blur together for him ever since the Krang situation--getting used to the "being trapped in another dimension" situation along with everyone else. He'd been introduced to the rest of the team (with some glares thrown in Peter's direction whenever he thought the man wasn't looking), and had even learned that he wasn't even the only person displaced from his home dimension residing within their headquarters. Apparently there was another Ray lingering around too, something which had made Leo's head spin trying to comprehend. How could there be two versions of a guy just....floating around? Eventually he'd just resolved to not think about it too hard--this situation was weird enough without adding extra layers to it.

Other than that, the days passed relatively normally. Or at least, what passed for normalcy in his current day-to-day life. He played pranks, he joked with the team, he pleaded to go out on busts. He ate substandard pizza from some carryout joint, he entertained them, he patiently tolerated Egon's poking and prodding and questioning about how his powers worked and how the portals knew where to send him and so on and so forth. He asked to drive the Ecto and only grew more and more petulant when he was denied. In a way, it felt like he was back home with his brothers. It felt normal. Organic, in a way. It felt safe.

But even safety had to come to an end.

Leo had already had a restless night, plagued by nightmares that left him startling awake and trying to regulate his breathing. Upon the third occurrence of this, he sat upright, groaning and pressing the palms of his hands into his eyelids in exasperation.]

Goddamn stupid night terrors. Ughhhhh. Why won't you just let me sleep--

[Go get Egon, you stubborn son of a bitch. He'll understand. He'll probably sit up with you and--]

Nope. Nuh-uh. Not happening. I've been annoying enough. He doesn't need me pulling him away from....important science work or whatever. It's fine. I'm fine.

[At least, he was fine until the small nightlight conveniently chose that moment to flicker and die, plunging the room into an inky blackness.

Fuck. FUCK.

Leo wasn't afraid of the dark. He wasn't. It was just that the dark reminded him too much of the prison dimension and how dark it had been, and how fetid the Krang's breath had been as it had snarled in his face, and---

And there were suddenly red lights shining in the darkness, too bright and too sinister to be of any comfort, and Leo found himself jolting backwards, breath stuttering in his throat as a shrill yelp escaped his mouth before he could help it. He couldn't help it. He knew he had to stay quiet, stay quiet doN'T LET IT SEE YOU, but it escaped his mouth almost instinctually, primally, before he could stop himself. How had the Krang come here, how had they managed to escape the prison dimension, they couldn't be--]

E-E-g-gi-UYS--

[He wanted it to be a yell. He was pleading for it to be a yell, but instead it came out as another strangled, panicked yelp as he flailed backwards, a loud and panicked hiss sounding from between his lips as his shell collided with something metallic, as he felt that chill again and heard the words slithering out of that toothed maw--

I've come for you, little PEST. You will not escape my grasp so easily THIS time.

Fuck, where were his swords, he had to....he had to teleport away, make a portal, something, anything, but he was tangled up in the stupid blankets and he couldn't move and he couldn't breathe and--]

NononononononononoNONONONONONONONO--

@dr-egonspengler

[doctapuella]

okay @keefsteef i was gonna send this in an ask but i got SO OUT OF HAND that i'm just putting it here so i can keep it organized!!! it's so many words i'm sorry!!!!!!!!! behold: my konosuke takeshita manifesto

i don't actually believe that you need to know or understand the rules of a match to get a lot out of it! they have a set time limit, and go until either they reach time (ending in a draw), or a wrestler can win either by covering and pinning the opponent (both shoulders flat on the mat for a count of 3) or submitting them (getting them in a hold they can't get out of, and the opponent physically or, if thats not possible, verbally taps out and gives in). everything else you can pick up as you go.

OKAY SO! sometimes it's difficult to find full matches for the bigger professional wrestling promotions (including AEW which is the one i've been mostly watching and the US-based one that takeshita is working with rn). the smaller/indie promotions (which he also wrestles with sometimes) often upload full matches to build hype, and those tend to be really intense and less cinematic and sometimes a lot cooler than televised matches. but! AEW does usually put up highlight clips, and those are really good for catching up on a storyline. so i'm dropping a few takeshita-focused links here for you to enjoy at your leisure:

this video i found is kind of a "who is konosuke takeshita?" mini doc, which is def a great starting point! it's about a year old and there's a lot of filler, but i learned a lot from it about the structure of japanese wrestling and the context of how wrestlers like takeshita have gotten to where they are. the takeshita-specific parts start around 6min.

[quick side note! you may have heard the whole 'wrestling is fake' comment before and really all that means is that outcomes are often predetermined, but the moves are all legit even if coordinated, and any good wrestler will say that their primary goal in any match is to make sure their opponent is safe. which i mention because some matches, especially indies, can get super violent. so for me, i'ts important to know and remember that they're highly trained not only in making stuff look cool but also in keeping both themselves and their opponents safe. some of the clips below include copious amounts of blood, but i didn't put anything with major legit injuries.]

some AEW highlight videos from the past 6 months or so, that give the overall trajectory of his current arc:

match vs bryan danielson (member of the 'blackpool combat club' faction), who was currently on a run to challenge for world champion title against mjf (current champion). couple weeks later, takeshita fought mjf and got real wrecked, and danielson came to help him out, nearly missing his own match in the aftermath, because his opponent's faction-mates trapped him in takeshita's locker room. (the takeshita vs mjf one was also the first match i watched live! so it has a special place in my heart.) (also mjf's character is a fucking dickhead to the extent that i feel the need to give a heads up for it.)

he then had some one-off matches that didn't really impact the story, and tbh i think they didn't have a good grasp on his storyline yet, but then!!!! a huge feud (that is still going on currently and i do not even understand all the layers of it) arose between two groups:

the elite (brothers matt and nick jackson, kenny omega, and later hangman adam page)

danielson's faction, the blackpool combat club (=bcc, also including jon moxley, claudio castagnoli, wheeler yuta)

there's also a manager figure, don callis, who has accompanied omega for years, but during this feud he started trying to lure takeshita into working with him and joining with the elite. he is trash. multiple people have called him a carnie piece of shit.

[almost everything from here on out is summarized in this video, but because i'm obsessive and extra, i added other links too. i do not myself know japanese, so i'm not sure who the guy at the end is or what he's adding in commentary, but from the backdrop it looks like he's with DDT, the japanese promotion takeshita works with and the ones who put together the video.]

at the end of an elite vs bcc match, callis got takeshita to come out and help the elite, more allying as the feud continues and he fights a match alongside omega. after it the bcc thought that, because of his history of respect with danielson, that he might help them. he refused.

then! callis turns on omega and attacks him in a match against another big figure of the bcc, jon moxley. everyone forgets about takeshita. then at the big pay per view event, big match between the two factions, omega is about to secure the win for the elite but then A MASKED FIGURE comes out of the crowd, vaults over callis (who is trying to interfere) and knocks omega to the ground. pulls down the mask to reveal that he's takeshita! working with callis, and now officially A Bad Guy (aka a heel). now he wears a leather jacket and all black gear, and glowers at the camera.

he hasn't gotten to do TOO much since, except this singles match against another awesome wrestler, bandido, then this past weekend he sided with the bcc (still hasn't joined officially) in a big match against the elite, which the elite won (the summary video above includes the announcement of the match, where moxley calls takeshita tall dark and sexy, but it doesn't have the footage of the match itself. i can't find any good clips).

i don't know whats next!!!

some cool indie matches where you can watch a whole match:

against speedball mike bailey in june 2022. bailey is another super unique wrestler (imo) and so it's really cool to see them together! it's one of my favorite matches and even from the first couple minutes you can tell it's a banger and that they're both going to make sure they highlight each other. they've teamed together in the past, so they know each other really well which makes it fun. (side note: mike's wife veda is a commentator on this one, which is also a fun element to this particular match!) i know that in this one, takeshita does one of his signature moves, the blue thunder bomb. it's such a cool, high-impact move. also uses his big finishing move, the german suplex, which he is a master of. and he talks a teeny bit at the end!

AND then this is a pretty recent one, at a lucha libre (mexican wrestling) street event in april. the organizers are a pair of brothers from mexico who also wrestle in AEW, so for them to have thought of takeshita when it came to putting together a lineup for this one-off event speaks very highly of him. i don't know this opponent that well, but the match is really cool, and i also think the setting is really unique and adds a lot as well.

oh my god this is so out of control i'm sorry thank you for your time

[alorsondanse42]

I used to work in a deli. I only lasted a month, and I didn't even quit. I just stopped showing up one day.

It's funny how some customer interactions stay with you. This was years ago and I still remember a select few like it was yesterday.

- Irish delis have this thing called taco sauce. It's mayonnaise based and very sweet with a pinkish colour reminiscent of meat that's been ground into a paste. I can only assume that there's heroin in there because there was no such thing as a smidgen of taco sauce. "A tiny bit of butter" was a common request, but for some reason the taco sauce aficionados would only accept a sandwich that was drowning in the stuff. I once made a wrap and was asked to paste on a layer of taco sauce about ten times the thickness of the bread. After I'd added the toppings, the lad (it was always a lad) had the audacity to ask for a little more taco sauce on top. The smell haunts me to this day.

-One day a girl asked me if I could prepare a sandwich for her on gluten free bread which she'd provided. I was inexperienced in food preparation and threw that bad boi in the oven to be toasted. I was promptly told off by my more experienced coworkers as I hadn't cleaned down the area to prevent cross contamination. The girl overheard us as was like "ah no it's grand". I wonder if that came back to haunt her.

- There was the guy who had the sandwich game figured out. He knew that egg salad was the cheapest filling and that we wouldn't charge extra if he asked for a little more. I overcharged him the first time I served him (I usually just guessed the sandwich prices lol) and he lectured me on our pricing standards. Alright dude, here's ur €2.50 egg and nothing else wrap, go you. Tbf, most other sandwiches cost in the region of €5. But this was a really fancy deli. I always wondered why he didn't just get a chicken fillet roll from Spar or something. Maybe he really did like egg salad. He came in every weekday.

- There was this one woman who everyone despised serving. She always came in with her elderly mother near closing time and asked for slices of roast beef. As the newbie who didn't know how to spot her ahead of time and make myself scarce, I usually ended up serving her. She was so unpleasant, I'm pretty sure her daily appearance at the counter was the main reason I bailed after just four weeks. She critiqued everything, from your hygiene to the thickness of the slices. She never smiled. She never had anything nice to say to anyone. I had to wonder, if she thought we were that incompetent then why on earth did she keep coming back??? One day she came in after I'd cleaned the meat slicer and the rest of the meat counter. I informed her as such. She told me to slice the beef with a knife instead. I had the pleasure of cutting her the most fucked up slices of beef with a bread knife very slowly.

God I hated that job. And it's absolutely wild to me that something I did for only four weeks sticks in my mind so vividly. Usually I can't even remember what I did yesterday.

[queer-polyam-emperor-penguin]

My boyfriend just got home about half an hour ago from seeing his family, it's currently 2:10am.

I'd sent him some sappy ass text and we video called once he got home and I'm currently sitting across from his sleeping face on my ipad screen as I wait for my weekly tarot reading. He looks absolutely beautiful and sweet, he's so peaceful and for a moment after starting to fall asleep, he woke up for a moment, looked up at me looking over at him while playing on my phone and wearing his jumper, smiled so sweetly and full of love and went straight back to sleep snuggling into his pillow a little further and smiling.

He has melted my heart so completely even before we started dating and I'm so glad we kinda accidentally outed our feelings for each other because as much as I would have held him as my friend for the rest of my life silently adding more meanings to my I love you's and having him do the same (because it came out we'd both been doing that for months...), I'm so glad we became more because he is worth it.

This absolute fucking dork, looks out for me and our found families so so much, and I am so so lucky to have him in my life.

After what happened with Princess... who really really hurt me in way's that completely shattered me… I am so grateful for someone who takes the time to listen and respect my boundaries and keep me safe and loved.

He is one of my best friends and I truely mean that because him and my QPP were already my best friends before him and I started dating.

This man's smile melts my heart and I just dropped all the walls and defences I had up for him.

Because I was prepared to go into relationships with walls up, not just my standard boundaries, but extra layers that had to be worked through to earn my vulnerability and affection... but he already had worked to gain my vulnerability and I had already been holding back so much of my affection.

So instead of preparing walls for him, I actually had to drop walls. Be more vulnerable and more honest and admit that actually he already had the power to hurt me but I trusted him not to and I was willing to continue to trust him and actually trust him a little more.

So I have dropped my walls and allowed for him to see anything he asks for, any part of me he wants is his because I wanted it to be anyway and I still hold him to boundaries and standards knowing fully well if he hurt me it would feel like an incredible betrayal, an unexpected one, but a painful one like nothing I've had in a long time, but I decided he was worth that risk and he has given me his vulnerability in return.

This beautiful, strong, kind man who has my heart wrapped around his finger and doesn't seem to fully comprehend that I would give the world for him or at the very least he has no intention to use that against me so for the first time in a long time my love isn't being used to control me...

And that with how secure and safe he makes me feel in all situations, how he reassured me he knows what to do when I have a medical emergency, that he knows what to do if I have a panic attack… he loves me in a way that is so simplistic and honest and real.

He gives me an everyday kind of love, because that's who he is and I am so happy.

He's beautiful and his peaceful sleepy face is a calming.

I love being vulnerable with someone who makes me feel protected from the world. I love feeling safe enough to drop all walls in a heartbeat because he deserves to see nothing but honestly and trust and truth and love.

I think I lucked out this time guys.

[filthforfriends]

The Taste of It

Thomas x fem reader

Word count: 8.6k

Smut prompt #27 I'm so wet.

Today the studio was booked by Maneskin again, which means you’d get to see Thomas. You’d get to listen to him play bluesy or hard rock guitar riffs and attempt to hide how much it turned you on. You’d get to stare at him until he felt your eyes on him and looked back. You’d get to hold eye contact in a way that made the whole room uncomfortable.

During every moment it was appropriate, you’d speak to each other in hushed voices, biting your lip so you didn’t smile too wide. He’d stand really close and you’d feel small next to him, and feverish under his direct attention. Thomas would flirt with you in front of everyone, quietly and with such sweetness. He knew that a spectacle would jeopardize your job with the producers you were supposed to be assisting. And he’d do so without ever looking at his phone, except for the moment he added your contact.

Thomas would work at a frenzied pace right before lunch, that way he could find an excuse to go fetch the orders with you. At first he played indecisive, then curious about the local restaurants. After a few days the excuses became about you: there was a band that he just had to show you or vice versa, and to be fair he often did. Now, not even two weeks into a seven week recording stint, Thomas had given up the excuses altogether. Everyone knew the routine, and gave him shit for it: he’d disappear with you for 45 minutes in the middle of the day and return with lunch.

Your coworkers didn’t start teasing until Thomas began staying later than everyone else, during the time when you’d clean up the studio for the morning’s clients. You’d talk, getting to know one another and finding an ever growing list of shared interests and experiences. Conversations which would be continued for hours afterwards, via text. At first it really irked you, the whistles and crude remarks about “no glove no love,” but that same evening Thomas helped you clean the bathroom so he’d have a couple extra minutes together, and any fucks you gave went out the window.

“I really want to play you something.”

“Yeah, okay,” you beamed, unlocking the booth and flipping on the light. Technically, you weren’t supposed to be in here by yourself, future platinum records and multi-million dollar equipment considered. However, they’d given you a key and no conduct within a recording studio is ever strictly legal. Turning on the soundboard, you did feel like this was something risky and forbidden, but for entirely different reasons. You and Thomas would be in a soundproofed studio alone, in an empty building. If there was ever a moment to act on this stifling sexual tension, it was now.

You spent the evening seated on layers of rugs that hadn’t been washed since the 70’s. When you made a comment about how grubby the floor was, Thomas had you sit on his coat.

“It’s fine, really! I shouldn’t have worn a skirt, this way I’ll remember next time,” you protest. Thomas gets settled, guitar over his leg, pick in hand, but he looks at you instead of playing. God, he has nice hands. And really nice fingers: long, elegant, skilled, probably very dexterous.

“Isn’t it better?”

“Huh?” you ask, entirely distracted. He follows your gaze and you know you’ve been caught by the way the left side of his mouth curls upwards. If Thomas knows you’re fantasizing about his hands, then he knows about the other thoughts dirtying your mind and that's a position far too revealing.

“Isn’t it better not to have to sit on the floor, though?” he repeats.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply dumbly.

“Then you’ll sit on my coat,” he concludes with soft finality. So you do sit, but sideways on your hip so a wet spot isn’t left on the polyester lining from the seat of your underwear. Thomas puts his pick in his mouth, and plays with his hands. A classy woman would be able to admire his musicianship, but you’re horny and want to climb him like a tree. What's even better, or perhaps more tortuous, is that his sweeping glances indicate that he feels the same. The anticipatory chemistry between you is so electrifying that it makes you feel alive in a new way.

Very quickly, it becomes apparent that Thomas is aware of his own sexuality. He has a quiet confidence in place of showmanship, moves with his music in the same caliber of motion and intensity. Every once in a while he looks up while playing a particularly Jimmy Page-esque chord, like the guitar is moaning in pleasure that Thomas is so intentionally applying. He rocks back and forth with the rhythm, lips parting as he focuses. Was he supposed to be showing you a song idea? His new favorite guitar melody? You’re lost as Thomas plays, in him more so than in the music. At some point you begin mirroring him, by complete accident, swaying back and forth in time.

When Thomas stops finger picking it's like a spell being broken. You feel yourself surface from the groove of his music, which has moved from melodic to soulful to sensual. He stands up, retrieving a slide he’d left on top of an amp. When he turns back around you see a realization flash across his face.

“Or maybe you’d like to sit somewhere else?” he asks, quickly. Like on your lap? How are you going to play guitar then? “There has to be another chair here somewhere.”

“It’s totally fine! I put them all away.” As has the devil with my soul, apparently.

“Well I could sit on the floor, too?” The rate with which Thomas has gone from rock god to conscientious gentleman is endlessly endearing.

“Oh no, I really don’t mind, Tommy.” In fact, you think the universe has granted you a reprieve until Thomas starts playing New Orleans blues. He uses his index and middle finger to yank on the strings, manipulating the sound by manually bending them to his will. It's worse than holding the pick between his beautiful lips. Everytime he accentuates a chord this way, you fantasize about his firm hands gripping you, and where else he could curl his strong, lengthy fingers.

“So, what do you think?” In all honesty you haven’t had a complete thought in the last half an hour.

“I think, um…I think it's good.” Thomas misinterprets your response with a frown.

“You hate it,” he guesses.

“No, no that’s not it at all! God, fuck, um –” Drawing a complete blank for an excuse, you’re left with no option but to tell the truth. Plus, you know the attraction is mutual, and someone has to take this a step further.

“It’s just that you’re really sexy,” you confess. That particular adjective slips without your permission. Why not hot or cute? As soon as the words have been spoken you hide your blushing face behind your hands.

“Oh, fuck. Um, sorry, that was super unprofessional,” you grimace, letting the hair fall in front of your face as you move your hands.

“When I found out you were into guitar players, I realized I must have done something very charitable in a past life.” You meet his eyes, trying to think of which co-worker would have made that comment. Not one that knew you well, since you’d dated all types of musicians.

“It’s not guitar players specifically,” you answer, feeling coy. Flirtatiously, you allow yourself a languide glance at Thomas’ open shirt and smattering of chest hair.

“Well then I must be really lucky, because you’re exquisite.” Exquisite. You’d been called beautiful, hot, and cute before, but the descriptors ended there. What the fuck does a person say to match exquisite? It seems that no words are necessary, your blush is validation enough. Thomas’ lips part to reveal an adorable smile. Everything about him is kind,and that’s so attractive. Despite what the media portrays, plenty of women aren’t into hard-bodied masculinity.

“I, um, well fuck,” you giggle, hands returning to your face out of a nervous habit.

“Don’t hide your smile,” he coaxes. “It’s like sunshine.” You drop your hands, carefully committing him to memory. His soulful, downturned eyes, his cute button nose that was actually quintessentially Italian from his side profile. Leave it to Thomas to have both of your favorite, but mutually exclusive, facial features. Those shapely lips that would fit so well against your own, his stubble, dark eyelashes, and soft jawline, all framed by a grown out shag.

“Sorry, I couldn’t come up with something better. My English still isn’t good enough to give beautiful women porper compliments.” The fact that he referred to you as a woman instead of a girl already won his points.

“Don’t worry, the accent is plenty effective,” you grinned. Thomas chuckled, bashful, turning the guitar pick over in his fingers.

“I’m glad I have something going for me.”

“Oh, you have plenty going for you,” you quip, confidently. This playful banter eventually leads to you playing something for him, much to Thomas’ excitement.

“You play?”

“Yes, I play! I firmly believe that any decent producer should be able to tinker around with instruments.” Thomas’ expression is so flattering that you get flustered, and find an excuse to listen to him strum the guitar again. You’re both on the floor now. The squeaks from the strings as Thomas moves his hand up along the fretboard are louder than the chords. Eventually he gives up and curses.

“Fuck, I don’t have that part down, yet.” He shakes his head and lays the guitar on the ground. You slide it away so there's nothing between the two of you but air and apprehension. After you finish moving the guitar out of the way, you look back up at Thomas. If there was anytime to kiss him, it was now, but you couldn’t figure out a segway. He hadn’t actually touched you beside a hand on the small of your back a couple times. Just catapulting yourself at him would be awkward and not explicitly welcome.

So you looked down at his hands, and felt the sexual tension in your cunt. His black nail polish was chipped and grown out, and there was a scrap from changing his own strings. Internally, you were screaming at him to move, so do something. You inched your hand towards his jean-clad knee, but stopped just short of touching. In term, he lay his hand on your knee over your thin tights. You could feel its warmth, its weight, and wished that he had reached under your skirt instead of below the hemline.

In return, you slide your hand onto his midthigh, not quite high enough to touch the erection you assumed he was sporting. You begin to lift your head, then realize Thomas is also bent over, watching all these tiny chances you barely have the courage to take. Looking down upon your hesitant hands is almost like looking down into a doll house. It's a miniature, controlled representation of all the things you’d like to do with your bodies, but lack the faculties to. Or, in this case, the courage. In this tiny simulation mistakes could be made without dire consequences and could be easily amended.

That's why Thomas’ hand sliding up your leg, under your skirt, was like toppling an entire play scene. Now that every character in this mini-theatre was indisposed, you were forced to engage with real life. You pressed your forehead to his and looked up. Thomas’ hand found the end of your hosiery, which you guess he hadn’t expected by the way he froze.

“Tommy,” you whispered. He met your eyes, and you leaned in to kiss him, tilting your chin to the side. He met you halfway, sort of nuzzling before your lips met. It was such an adoring way to kiss someone that you lifted a hand to the back of Thomas’ head, keeping him there to draw out the kiss. He seemed in no hurry to pull away either, slowly, sensually taking the time to mold his mouth to yours. Instead of a peck, he found the perfect way your mouths fit together and savored it for a moment.

Your lips made an obnoxious sound as they parted, but were silent as they met again in another slow, sultry kiss. You finally let your eyes fall shut, and laced your fingers through Thomas’ hair. The hand on his leg felt awkward and you tried to figure out what to do with it as Thomas’ pressed his tongue into your mouth, one band cupping your jaw, the other squeezing the meat of your thigh. You should have struggled to catch your breath, but this had been such a long time coming that the kiss was relaxing, and natural in a way none of your other interactions had been. This was the first time neither had held back.

You kissed in the same way, and it made everything run smoothly. Maintaining a rhythm once you’d found it in was usually challenging, but with a bit of focus, you and Thomas seemed to always be on the same page. His mouth tasted good. The knowledge that his saliva was brought against your tongue with every caress aroused you an uncomfortable amount. Your panties were cold and sticky against your skin.

You used the hand on Thomas' thigh to push yourself upright, making it easier to engage in the kiss instead of just receiving it. He seemed to like this very much and moaned into your mouth, which put you in a state of frenzy, halfway falling on Thomas as you tried to pull him closer. His nose bumped against your cheek, and he kissed like he was very aware of this, constantly readjusting. The amount of thought process that was being allocated away from your embrace bothered you. So, you took Thomas’ face in both hands, kissing him hard, passionately, unbothered by the bridge of his nose against your cheek bone. He let out another moan, of both surprise and appreciation, then pulled away slightly, breaking for air.

“Holy fucking shit,” he gasped, cheeks flushed, as was the tip of his nose, like it was chilly outside. You tried for words, but ended up dissolving into happy giggles. Seeing your joy, he chuckled along.

“So we know that works,” you conclude, allocating one hand to fan yourself, suddenly enduring a hot flash.

“Uh, yeah. That definitely works.” Thomas takes a moment to readjust, sitting against an amp, but still keeping his fingertips on the bare skin of your thigh. Every perceptible touch made your pussy throb, and you wanted to buck your hips until his hand was in the proper place.

“C’mere,” he invited, patting his lap. You grinned like a fool and swung a leg over, sitting on his midthigh. Something about Thomas coaxing you to sit on his lap then gripping you firmly had a whine of protest ripping from the back of your throat. Protesting what exactly, wasn’t clear. A lack of action? An excess of arousal? All you new is that you were going to take off these underwear and stuff them in your purse before you drove home because this was fucking uncomftorable.

You resumed kissing, glancing at each other's lips before surging towards each other. It was actually a little too forceful and you worried about Thomas’ nose, but he seemed unbothered. You used this opportunity to run your hands through Thomas’ hair. It was finer than you expected, but just as soft. After a long day in the studio, it was hard not to catch on tangles, so you spoke into the kiss.

“How do you like to be touched?” He kissed you once more before processing your question and stilling. Just barely, you could feel his cock twitch against your leg. Even though your lips were touching it wasn’t a kiss. Thomas was panting erratically into your mouth.

“I um,” gasp, “I like most things.” The hand that slid between your shoulder blades a few moments ago was progressively finding its way downwards. Currently Thomas was gripping just above your waist tightly, keeping you close as he attempted to form a thought. He looked to his left, unable to function under your amous gaze.

“I like having my ears touched.”

“Okay…” You nodded encouragingly and brought a hand to trace the shell of his ear. Once his ear lobe was between your fingers, you pulled on it gently, and this caused his eyelids to flutter closed.

“I don’t…I don’t know,” he huffed.

“Well what would you like to do right now?” you prodded.

“Anything. Everything. Nothing. Whatever you want.” You hummed in agreement, putting both your hands around Thomas neck, and scooting up.

“Whatever I want. I like the sound of that,” you tease, resuming the kiss. Thomas' mouth is more firm against yours, increasing in vigor. If it weren’t for your own enthusiasm the force would have your neck craning back. You rise to the challenge, kissing him passionately, pressing your chest to his. Instead of sitting back on your heels, you straddle Thomas’ groin, resting your weight forward on his hard cock. As the kiss slows, becomes deeper, you rock up and down on his lap in rhythm, just as you had while he played. You can feel your nipples rubbing against his chest through your blouse and bralette.

“Are you even wearing anything under this!?” he exclaims, hand sliding upward and finding a lack of shorts underneath.

“Why don’t you keep going and find out?” Instead of waiting for stimulation, you very purposefully rub your pussy against the zipper of his jeans, neglecting the kiss in order to find a pleasurable motion. A wide-eyed Thomas brings his hand under your skirt, up to your ass. Exchanging pecks on the lips, you nod your head encouragingly. When Thomas reaches your skimpy underwear you both stop breathing. He pauses, rubbing the fabric between his fingers, unsure of how to proceed.

“Mhm,” you prompt, nodding again, foreheads pressed together. It takes everything not to guide his hand between your legs, but that would be a bit too forward for a first sexual interaction. His hand slides under the waistband of your panties and he feels the curve of your hip, traces the skin where thigh meets groin. You keep nodding, and the arm around your ribs falls to your hips, like he's trying to adjust your position. Problem is you've never hooked up before so you have no idea what goal he’s trying to achieve.

“Mhm, mhm,” you confirm, nodding a bit too enthusiastically. He’s trying to pull you towards him somehow and as much as you’re trying to go with Thomas, he’s not being decisive enough with his movements. You lose your patience.

“What do you want me to do?” you snap. His eyes go wide for a second in surprise.

“I find it's easier if you just, just lean into me a bit. Because I’m so tall.” You lean forward, holding your weight except for the arms wrapped around his neck. It feels wrong and the tentative flutter of his hands confirms this.

“Just…relax. Like, I’ve got you. Just –” You give Thomas your weight, resting your head on his shoulder, like a hug. “Yeah, exactly, okay.” He rubs your flank reassuringly with both hands, and starts to work his way towards your cunt again. He traces the waist of your panties, then rubs the crook of your thigh. You think he’s finally going to touch your pussy, at least over the underwear, and he doesn’t. Is he teasing me or does he think I still need warming up? Thomas torturing you the frist time he gets in your pants sounds out of character, you decide.

“How’s –”

“I’m so wet,” you confess, burning face pressed into his shoulder. “Please, just do something, now. Like, I –” Thomas pushes a hand down the front of your panties, and rubs over your pussy on the way to inserting a finger into your opening. It's exactly what you wanted. That place inside you, begging for touch, begging for pressure, begging for intrusion is satiated, and you let out a whine that turns into a mewl. You know Thomas can see your toes curl.

He works the one finger all the way in and you’re trying not to pull his hair, but fuck you’ve spent $85 on a dildo that didn’t reach this far. You bite down on the fabric of his shirt as a gag, resisting the urge to let out an avalanche of pathetic whines.

“More?” You nod furiously, and Thomas begins massaging your hymen with his middle finger. “This okay?”

“Just force it,” you beg. You partially expect him to pause, or act scandalized, or refuse, but Thomas has more experience than you give him credit for. He’s been with enough women to understand the desire to feel your body pried open when it's gone untouched for too long. So he does exactly what you ask: no prep, he pushes the second finger inside.

Your body has decided that curling your toes is no longer an adequate expression of sensation, now you’re kicking the dusty rug with the top of your foot. You let out a moan so Thomas doesn’t have to discern if this is pain or pleasure. He starts by thrusting his fingers, then tries curling them. Both get a strong reaction out of you while rocking back on his hand like you’re riding it. You’re wondering which one he’ll decide on when he speaks.

“A third?”

“I, uh…” Two felt plenty full, but the sensation of three fingers was glorious if you could take it.

“When was the last time someone fucked you properly?”

“Um, I guess…” You couldn’t come up with a decisive answer. “It’s been a bit.” You sat up as you spoke, feeling awkward having a conversation into Thomas’ shirt. “Why, is it obvious?” Thomas started making come hither motions, while his thumb searched for your clit. You let out a sigh, leaning your forehead against his as your eyelids fell closed.

“You can barely take two fingers, but you wanted them without foreplay? Then a third? I couldn’t give that to you if I wanted to.”

“Oh.” You felt absolutely mortified at coming off so desperate.

“Hey! Hey, I do want to, for the record. I want to give you everything that feels good.” Perfect timing, his thumb found your clitorous, and you were keening forward once again.

“Tommy,” you rasped.

“And I fucking love that you call me Tommy. No one calls me Tommy, so don’t pretend that you didn’t know what you were doing, either.” He says these words into your hair,  leaning closer. He starts thrusting his fingers in and out at a decent pace. Not your ideal pace, but this was the first time after all.

“Wait,” your murmur, reaching down to hold his wrist still. You bounce at the speed you’d like, letting him get acquainted. When you let go he keeps pace, and the depth has you letting out an open mouthed groan, eyes closed tightly in appreciation.

“There you go,” he encourages in that thick Italian accent. You kiss him messily for a minute, but realize that this isn’t enough to make you cum. When you open your eyes his lips are glistening, and his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Can I touch you?” Your hand slides up his leg, waiting for permission.

“Yeah, uh, fuck,” he pants, hand faltering. “I don’t think I can –” receive and give effectively at the same time.

“That's okay,” you offer, sitting back a bit. You make quick work of his belt buckle and the buttons. After spitting in your hand crudely, you shove your hand inside his boxers, attempting to find a good grip. The hand between your legs settles on lazily rubbing your clit, as Thomas’ head falls back against the amp. You start with full strokes then switch to focusing on the sensitive half of his cock, trying to see which he likes more. He doesn’t seem to have a preference until you increase the tightness of your hold, sliding over the head of his cock and thumbing at his slit.This earns you an unexpected amount of pre-cum and he lets out the first real moan, which lands like a wave of heat that settles in your groin.

You can actually see the tension leave his body as Thomas slumps against the amp. His hips buck in sensitivity, and you have to use your body weight to pin down his thighs. The restriction from the elastic waistband of his boxers is annoying, so you pull them down to reveal his cock. It’s a handsome cock, rosey and veering slightly to the right. He’s cut, which you didn’t expect from a European man. Thomas’ pubic hair is denser and lighter in color than you’d imagined, but it's in proportion to his substantial shaft. How people fit so much in skin-tight pants would never cease to amaze you.

His reaction to your touch is anything but casual. Thomas is highly reactive and tightly wound. How long had it been since he was fucked properly? His cock twitches whenever you firmly massage the ridge at the base of the head. It seems that he’s never really resting his weight on the floor, always carrying it in his body. You lean forward and lick his exposed adam’s apple. The resulting prornographic noise makes you thankful that this room is locked and sound proofed.

With the crown of his head resting on the edge of the amp, you trace the shell of his ear then suck his earlobe, grazing it with your teeth. Unexpectedly, his head snaps up, eyes half lidded with arousal, plush lips parted. Thomas roughly grabs you and kisses you with so much passion it's disarming. Thomas molds the flesh of your thigh with one hand and uses the other to lightly slap your ass, exposed in your skimpy underwear.

“I don’t wanna stop,” you mumble into his mouth. He gives you one final kiss as punctuation before meeting your eyes.

“I have a condom in my bag. Um…” he looks around trying to locate it, gently pushing you from his lap. “Fuck, where is it?” Thomas gets up, tucking himself back into his pants with a comical amount of effort.

“Don’t worry about it, we’re just taking them off again.”

“I can’t walk about with my dick out!” he counters, finally buttoning his fly. You get up and follow him to the mixing room, giggling while scanning the various shelves.

“This is so fucking embaressing, I’m so sorry,” he apologizes crouching down next to the couch.

“I’m more worried about you losing, erm, interest,” you insinuate. Thomas looks back at you, smirking.

“I can promise you that any interest lost, can easily be perked back up again.” The light reflects off of something on a stack of amps directly behind him. You then realize it is the polished leather handle of Thomas’ bag.

“Over here!”

“Thank god!” he groans, head thrown back. As Thomas unzips a side pocket he mutters rapid fire Italian curse words under his breath.

“Okay,” he sighs, holding up the condom between his index and middle finger like a cigarette, smiling. You give him your best come hither look. Thomas gets to be the one to reinitiate physical contact.

“What are you doing all the way over there again?” he teases cheerfully, taking a step in your direction.

“Waiting for you to come get me.” Thomas’ chest heaves under this shirt, which is now halfway unbuttoned, even though you don’t remember undressing him. He crowds you against a stack of Fender amplifiers. You find yourself wobbling on the tips of your toes, trying to compensate for the height difference and meet his lips. Instead of a stabilizing hand on your waist, Thomas reached both hands under the hem of your skirt, cupping the crease where thigh becomes buttock. You barely have the presence of mind to help him by jumping before you’re being hauled off the ground.

His mouth is on yours before the hold is even steady. Thomas is letting you set the pace with both his hands now occupied. His hair gets in your mouths, so you open your eyes and admire his beauty as you pull his golden locks from the kiss. It doesn’t even seem to register, he’s just happy to have you held tightly against him. This passionate embrace had been a long time coming.

Using your height advantage, you push your tongue into Thomas’ mouth while also wrapping your legs around him. The meeting of these two entities is hesitant, even gentle. Brute force was never pleasant when it came to French kissing, and his ability to be delicate and measured made your excitement uncomfortably tangible. It was an arousing juxtaposition to the way you’d wrapped yourself around him, squeezing tightly. His fingers dug into the softest part of your body and you try not to be self conscious of the fact that he’s supporting your weight. Even though this is your first time, there's a sense of safety in Thomas’ arms. Being held like this evokes the same warm satiation as being cuddled.

Breaking away, you sloppily kiss the corner of Thomas’ mouth and across his cheek, making your way back to his ear. He sort of kisses you sideways, trying to follow your mouth until he realizes that's not the intent. Something else endearing, as if there weren’t enough already. Instead of resuming your attention to the shell of his ear, you very slowly insert your tongue into his canal, its wet warmth stimulating every hyper-sensitive follicle. Thomas shivers and pushes you up against the mixing room’s external door, which rattles on its hinges. The taste is bitter, but the ferocity with which he now grips your thighs makes it worth it.

Thomas devolves into rutting against you while grunting and you practically climb him. The zipper of his jeans rubbing against your groin was probably doing more for you than it was him. You pull his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging just a little bit before letting go and allowing him to return the gesture. His mouth feels so much better than it looks, pillowy and rounded. Wanting to get a better sense of them, you lick up the hill of his bottom lip, down into the seam where they meet, and back up over his top lip and onto his cupid's bow. Thomas' eyes fall closed as you do this, so you kiss the tip of his nose and up the bridge, ending between his eyebrows where he gets a line when a riff is evading him. His entire face relaxes, and the knowledge that Thomas likes having his face kissed burns between your legs. Only then do you remember the goal of finding a functional horizontal surface.

“We need, we need somewhere,” you pant. Thomas sets you on top of an amp, and pulls your shirt off. Before the fabric has hit the floor, you’re working on the clasp of your bra. Thomas audibly gasps as you fling it to the side, which is very flattering.

“Your nipples are so pretty.” His hand comes up to cup your breast, tracing over the mauve bud with a feather light touch that makes you shiver in delight. The rough callous on his thumb barely makes contact with your extremely sensitive nipple, and yet it's almost too much sensation. You are pushing your breasts towards him without choosing to do so consciously. Thomas grabs you around the middle, and pulls your chest towards his face, sucking the other nipple into his mouth with severity. This time you’re the one moaning, fingernails scratching at the textured surface of the amplifier.

When Thomas drops to his knees you know you’re done for. The optimist in you assumes he’ll be great at giving oral. The realist knows that men are very rarely this proficient and you’ll have to pretend to enjoy it for an appropriate amount of time before moving on to better things. Most people don’t enjoy going down on someone, they just feel obligated, and that's what you would be. If Thomas ate you out, you’d be obligated.

“Hey, it's okay, you already warmed me up.”

“I know, I was there” he winks, pulling you to the edge. “And you don’t have to blow me, I’m not expecting that.” The surprise must show on your face because Thomas breaks out in a laugh. “Damn, you’ve had some really bad sex.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” you counter. “But, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Thomas sits back on his heels with a huff, trying to read your features. He seems to settle on something before speaking.

“Remember when you wore that red plaid skirt a couple days ago?” Ah yes, your tennis skirt, an article of clothing made to reduce the most pious of men to sex demons. You’d worn it to get Thomas’ attention.

“Mhm,” you nod coyly.

“And remember that chair I was in, and you sat on the arm for a while? You were really close to me and you smelled lovely.”

“You like my perfume?” Smell was a huge part of attraction, so this was a positive. You loved the way Thomas smelled.

“Um, sure…yeah.” He seemed taken aback. “It’s nice, but I really prefer your natural smell. It’s so sexy to me.” He put lots of emphasis on the word “natural,” patting your thigh a couple times. Thomas implored you to understand with his expression, but you were lost.

“But, I always wear perfume.”

“Right, but I could smell you this time. Now that I know how little you wear under your skirts that makes sense.” He gestures to your groin. “Especially considering how close you” cue confusing emphasis “were to me. But, maybe that was on purpose,” he smirks, tilting his head to the side.

“Well, I smell the same today,” you chirp. Thomas looks bewildered.

“I don’t think you can control that. It has more to do with you, um –” he gesticulates as though the words should be forthcoming.

“It’s an essential oil, jasmine. I used it today as well.”

“I’m not talking about your perfume, y/n. I’m talking about how you smell.” He chuckles good naturedly, and rests his forehead on your knee for a moment in exasperation. “You’ve smelled yourself before, no?” If not perfume, then what, body odor? That did not smell lovely. And what did your skirt have to do with, oh my god.

“No!” you howled, hands coming up to cover your face. “I thought only girls could smell their own, y’know.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” he chuckled. “Has no one complimented you on this before? Americans are such prudes.” You immediately close your legs as tightly as possible, to which Thomas makes a noise of disagreement.

“I’m gonna start wearing liners, and shorts, and –”

“It’s natural, it’s supposed to be there, dear god!” Thomas laughs, and your face is so hot with mortification that you feel feverish.

“This whole time,” you groaned, remembering every occasion you’d worn a skirt, thinking this scent was only perceptible to you.

“I can’t imagine anyone complaining, it's quite pleasant.” You let out a whine of shame, shaking your head, face still covered by your palms. “It's just pheromones, relax! We never have to acknowledge it again. I just brought it up because now that I know how you smell, I’d really like to know how you taste.” Having a man tell you that he liked the scent of your cunt so much that he wanted to eat you out was either the hottest or most disgusting thing ever. Maybe it was both.

“Mm-mm,” you shook your head. Thomas pushed up your skirt to reveal your underwear and your pussy throbbed. He pulled your hands from your face, looking at you for permission to continue. You nodded your head, unsure how far your self consciousness would let you go. Instead of trying to pry your thighs apart, Thomas pressed his face into your lap. To prove a point, he breathed in deep and hummed in satisfaction. His nose nudged your clitorous, which caused you to kick the side of the amp so hard you hissed in pain.

“You’re gross.” Thomas rests one cheek on your thigh, his free hand stroking your flank.

“Sure am.” He didn’t take it as an insult, which somehow made the whole situation more erotic. You relaxed your legs, not quite parting them, but allowing them to be parted.

“Maybe we do this on the floor, so you don’t break anything,” Thomas suggested. He kissed your inner thigh before unbuttoning his shirt, still kneeling. You waited for his direction, as he shed the layer, and bunched it up in his hand.

“C’mon.” He pulled you from the amplifier and back into the studio where his leather jacket lay on the ground, and you were hit by a scandalous realization.

“You! Were you trying to – your jacket, having me sit on it! Were you, were you, um –”

“Actually I was just trying to be a gentleman, but the thought did cross my mind.” He winked, before laying his shirt out below his jacket so you’d have something to rest on. You sat down on the makeshift bed as he smoothed out the material.

“Your poor shirt,” you comment, leaning back on your elbows with Thomas knelt at your knees.

“A worthwhile sacrifice.” He smiled with just the left side of his mouth before returning his attention elsewhere. “Open your legs, leprotta.”

“What does that mean?” Thomas thought for a moment about the translation.

“Bunny.”

“Jesus christ,” you sighed, laying flat on your back, looking at the ceiling. There were various exposed cords and a dubiously engineered lighting system. The snap of your skirt’s clasp and the sound of the zipper seemed to echo in the otherwise perfectly silent room. In your mind, you beg Thomas to hurry up before the anticipation kills you, but in reality your lips are pursed to fight back a dismal whine.

The fabric tickles where it brushes your legs, causing every hair to stand up. Thomas crouches down and you look up to find his expression expectant. Under his lustful gaze, you open your legs a generous amount. For a panicky moment you forget which underwear you have on and can’t remember if they’re stained. Thomas seems totally enraptured, smiling faintly with both hands coming to grip your thighs.

“You’ve soaked all the way through,” he admires. You let out a humiliated groan, head lulling back and eyes tightly closed. In darkness, your other senses become the conveyors of information. You expect Thomas to take off your underwear next, but he doesn’t. He kisses your pussy over the fabric on the wet spot. Then he nuzzles against you, nose coming in contact with your clit. You whine at the sensation, lifting your hips so he can take off the final garment and touch your properly. Thomas has no such mercy. Tongue firm, he licks the seat of your panties, using his face to apply glorious pressure.

“If you make me cum in my underwear I swear to – uh, ahh, Tommy!” He interrupts you by firmy lapping at the seat of your panties, until the entire strip of fabric is wet. He then pushes it to the side with his tongue and finally licks your pussy.

“Please, please take them off!” you beg, and he does, pulling your ruined panties down to your ankle. You haphazardly kick your underwear off in a random direction and Thoams presses his face to your bare cunt, unyielding. Just the direct pressure and warmth of his skin is heavenly. He moans and the vibrations are felt on and inside you. After a few seconds of trial and error, his nose is pressed to your clit again as the hot muscle of his tongue invades your pussy. He’s so exact with his movements, so active in his ministrations.

When your eyes finally open again you see the mop of his dirty blond hair and nothing else solidly between your thighs. Without thinking, you grab his shag in your hands to keep him close, maintain stimulation. A more logical y/n would remember that Thomas needed to breathe, but you were close and he was damn good at this.

“Tommy, tommy, tommy,” you whine, each repetition in increasing pitch until you're damn near squeaking his name. He nodded against your body in understanding and the new stimulation caused your heel to pound against the studio floor. Thomas noticed this and started rocking his face against you. In fact, his whole body was in motion and you realized that Thomas was rutting against the carpet, so turned on by the way you tasted that he was getting himself off.

Your feet began to pound against the floor, body so wrought with pleasure that you needed some externalization of the sensation. Usually, with men, you carefully orchestrated reactions to flatter them, but with Thomas it felt as if you would explode if you didn’t move. You ended up rocking against his face too, and it was as if he was fucking you, but with his tongue as the chosen appendage. He managed to keep rhythm, making obscene slurping noises as your aroused discharge became more plentiful with your impending orgasam.

“Close,” you cried out and Thomas moaned again and kept moaning. It was what got you off, and he continued through your orgasam, so much so you were worried he had finished. Fighting for air, you felt a tug where you held Thomas’ hair, and realized he was likely suffocating between your thighs.

“Oh shit, sorry,” you gasped, breaking out in a sweat. His face was red when he pulled away from your pussy, but he was beaming. “Shit, I suffocated you didn’t I?” To breathless to verbalize, Thomas simply laughed as he sat up.

“Can’t believe – ugh” he gave up speaking and focused on breathing for a moment. “Can’t believe I had to convince you to do that.” There were red hand prints where he’d gripped your thighs, and you traced their outline, enraptured.

“Oh, sorry. Shit, I –”

“Don’t apologize, I like them.” Thomas surged forward to kiss you, but you stopped him with your hand before his lips made contact.

“Ah! I don’t care how much you like it, wipe your mouth off!” Thomas wiped his face on the back of his hand and looked up, eyebrow raised. You scrunch your nose up in nearly concealed disgust and he laughed.

“Shut up and get over here,” he said, affectionately. You couldn't help but smile as your mouths reunited. While half your attention was focused on the kiss, the other half was focused on getting Thomas naked and on top of you. Getting him out of his pants wasn’t too difficult, pulling him on top of you was easy enough, but he was still catching his breath. The kiss became totally open-mouthed, panting as your tongues met.

“Let me do some of the work now,” you volunteered, getting out from under him. “Lay back.” Thomas seemed happy to rest and enjoy the view. You worked his jeans the rest of the way off, and tried to remember where you’d put the condom. Thomas saw you scanning the room and guessed.

“It’s in my pant’s pocket.” You fished the wrapper out of his jeans, carefully tearing it open. Best to assume this was your one chance and not waste it. You carefully rolled it on, and even that contact was enough to have Thomas’ eyes rolling back in his head. Already, you were excited to make him cum, watch him totally relax and give into your body. He seemed so ready, cheeks pink and his chest quickly flushing the same color.

“Can I ride you?” Out of habit you stroke his cock a couple times to get him completely erect, but Thomas is already there.

“Fuck yeah,” he guaffed. You straddle him, getting a hold on the base of his shaft. Hopefully the fingering wasn’t too long ago and this would be easy. Luckily it felt like his cock was lubed up when you sank down on it. You wondered how much of this was you and how much of it was his saliva.

“So, how was it?” Thomas doesn’t need any elaboration, but he does lick his lips crudely.

“You’re delicious, leprotta.” His hands rest at his sides, allowing you to integrate him at your own pace with no pressure. It's very considerate, but you want Thomas to grab you with a ferocity that borders on pain.

When you’re totally seated on his cock, you experimentally rub your clit on Thomas’ pubic bone, wiggling your hips. He gets his feet under him, the crook of his knee at a 90 degree angle, hips still resting on the ground. It pitches you forward and you catch yourself with your hands planted on the carpet just above his shoulders. You’re trying to readjust to the unfamiliar position when Thomas speaks.

“Just move naturally. It helps, just try it.” You start grinding against him, pelvis tilted downwards and find the contact with your pussy is much more direct. There's no searching for that perfect spot and trying to maintain it, because gravity has your clit pressed into his pubic hair. Everytime you rock backwards, you meet Thomas’ thighs whose angle propels you forward again. The result is that most of your range of motion is spent grinding your cunt against Thomas abdomen.

It's awkward and new at first. You’re thrown enough that it takes a while to get into a rhythm, but once you find it the sensation is transcendent. Your lids feel like they're falling open and closed, unable to focus, and you realize your eyes are rolling back in your head from pleasure.

“Yeah?” he pants, thrusting up to meet you.

“Mhm.” you nod enthusiastically, moaning open mouthed and fearless. When Thomas can’t get in time with you, he minimizes his movements and lets you use his body to get off. It’s so hot that you want him to fuck you, and struggle to verbalize their desire for several seconds.

“Want you now.”

“What do you want, leprotta? Tell me what you want,” he croons

“You. I want you now – now too,” you whimper, fingernails leaving crescent moon marks on the soft skin of his chest.  As you grow closer to orgasam keeping your eyes open becomes difficult for a myriad of reasons: self-consciousness, sensation, focus.

“You want me?” His confusion was understandable, considering the wanting was very much being acted upon at this moment. “You want me on top?” he guessed. You nodded, slowing your hips and immediately missing the sensation. Thomas sat up to help you, noticing that you were unsteady from the proximity of your orgasam. He was patient as you struggled to open your eyes, held your trembling hands as you got off of him and layed down.

“Good girl,” he praised. Even though you knew he didn’t mean it that way, your body still reacted dramatically, back arching up in search of his form. Thomas held himself over you and gingerly tried to align your bodies. You reached down, grabbing a hold of his slippery shaft, and directed him inside you. Once things were in motion, Thomas thrusted to the hilt, and let out a breathy groan. You allotted him two thrusts before making demands.

“Harder.” He furiously snapped his hips against yours, the collusion an explosion of sensation. Yet, as soon as his cock was there, it was gone again. Knowing words are usually the least effective way to communicate these things, you wrapped your legs around his hips. Using this grip you held Thomas against you, showing him the kind of contact that you craved.

“Like that.” You sensed him nod more than you felt or saw it. Thomas drove his hips forward vigorously, and as soon as your bodies could be no closer, he ground against you. It had your toes curling so severely that they cramped. You tried to say his name, but could never get more than one syllable or sound out.

“Ts, ts, tho – ommy” you gasped. “Tom – ta, ahm – ah please, please.” You gave up on real speech and resorted to mindless begging. When he lifts your leg up , ankle on his shoulder, you want to scream in frustration.

“What the fuck!” You dropped your head against the flooring, rolling your eyes and stamping your planted foot. Why do men stop doing the right thing during sex as soon as they’ve found it? He actually chuckles a little bit and your attention is brought to how pretty his green eyes look when his face is flushed. Thomas is truly giving this his all, fucking you with every bit of energy he has left after a long day.

His lips are parted and during a particularly forceful thrust a drop of saliva falls onto your cheek. It really should faze you, but it doesn’t because Thomas switches from pushing into you to grinding against you. With your foot up and legs open, he’s able to make more meaningful contact with your groin, and it's a new world of sensation. This does very little for his pleasure, but it's everything for yours.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you chant, the pitch of your voice climbing as your body is, towards climax. “I swear to fucking god if you stop this time,” you growl, slamming your open palm against the carpet as everything cramps up in preparation. Thomas whines, and you know it's because you’re so tight that this moment borders on painful for him. You take a couple erratic breaths and feel yourself spill over the otherside, this orgasam even better than the last. It's a total rush, sparkling serotonin starting in your abdomen then flooding your limbs and finally reaching your head.

Thomas grunts from the back of his throat during each of his final thrusts, pushing your ankle off his shoulder. His teeth are clenched and the vein in his forehead has started to make an appearance.

“Cum, I want you to cum, Tommy.” You tangle your fingers into his hair, using both hands to push it away from his face. Two conflicting things happen: Thomas starts to smile at the tenderness of your gesture, and he orgasams. Hard. His face reaxes, mouth falling open and his eyes flutter. He tries to catch himself, but ends up collapsing on you. Thomas scrambles to get his hands under him as soon as he can, but you dismiss his efforts.

“Hey, it’s okay! You’re fine, just chill here for a sec.” You stroke his head and ride out the aftershocks. Everytime your walls tense around his softening cock, Thomas’ entire body spasms. You rub his back, slow and soothingly, while kissing the crown of his head. It’s weirdly intimate for a first hookup, but the urge is organic. Thomas had just given you so much. It felt right to support him as he came back to earth.

“Um, I – sorry, I –” He strains to sit up and you shush him.

“Take your time.” Thomas relaxes against you. The moment is so sweet that you dread its ending even though it's just begun. Those feelings will likely change when he falls asleep on you.

Notes: I'm baaaccckkk :)

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