#thomas raggi x you

[oro-e-diamanti]

The one with Thomas' fingers

Description | You have a sudden realisation about Thomas... and the way his fingers move.

Content | Smut, fluff

Pairing | fem!Reader x Thomas Raggi

Word count | 4300

***

It hadn't supposed to happen. This… realisation. Not after years and years of being friends, not after years and years of seeing them everyday, then every week, then every month, as they rose to stardom. There was simply no reason for any of this to bubble up below the surface, rise and rise, and breach your line of consciousness now. But it did. It did, as you were sitting in an expensive seat at the arena, eyes transfixed on the screens that showed a detailed close up of Thomas’ fingers as he played his perfect solo.

You had seen it, watched him, hundreds of times before, probably quite literally that often if you added up all shows, impromptu sessions, rehearsals that you'd attended over the course of your friendship. Had gotten countless opportunities to study him, learn him by heart, but somehow, this overwhelmingly important detail had passed you by without notice and all of a sudden, you couldn’t tell how.

If someone were to ask you, afterwards, what song had been playing at the exact moment it all changed in your brain, you would have been at a complete loss. All that seemed to matter was keeping your eyes on the screen, wishing you could be close enough to see it for real, silently lamenting all the chances you’d had without making use of them, as Thomas’ fingers continued moving over and with the strings, and you wondered if you’d ever seen something that beautiful.

Any hope of behaving normally when the show was over went straight out of the window as you made your way backstage, immediately bumping into a sweaty but deliriously happy Thomas, who almost knocked you over in the process, only just managing to hold onto your wrist, his other hand quickly finding the small of your back, pulling you back.

“You okay?” he laughed, easily, carelessly, but your brain was going and going and going and whirling with the sensations of how his fingers wrapped around your wrist so easily, slender and careful and rough at the same time.

His face was too close to you, eyes trailing over yours. You could feel the heat emerging from his body, could smell it on him, the exertion of two hours on stage, his chest bare, acutely aware of how you were pressed against it. Never had you ever wanted Thomas, had never even considered it in earnest, jokes about hooking up with one or the other member of the band flying around easily, but none of it seemed as funny now.

“No,” you sighed back, then immediately realised what you said and how his breath was hitting your skin and untangled yourself from him. “I mean, yes. Of course.”

“Having a normal one, you two?” Damiano asked as he passed by, giving you a much-needed opportunity to remove yourself from the situation and you took it gratefully.

“Oh, always,” you replied, not with a lot of conviction and followed him towards their dressing rooms, hoping for Ethan and Vic to join you sooner or later. Anything that kept you from being alone with Thomas as your heart went on a rollercoaster so fast it almost made you sick.

Your wish wasn’t granted.

As Damiano disappeared into the room, Thomas snuck an arm around your waist, holding you steady and steering you away. You didn’t have it in you to protest or fight it, letting the man lead you into a different room, letting him close the door behind the two of you, letting your breathing even out as much as you could. It didn’t last for long when you turned around and once again caught sight of his bare chest, a singular drop of sweat finding its way along his nipple and towards his soft belly.

“Are you sure nothing happened?” he finally asked, drawing your eyes away from their tantalising view and up towards his face. “Normally you’re as ecstatic as we are when we get off stage but tonight you’re just… quiet.” He mustered your face, as if he could find any clues in it. You could feel a blush threatening to rise. You had never been this awkward in his presence, but now that you were, you couldn’t stop it, no matter how hard you tried. “I’m just worried. If you want to talk, I’m here, or I can get Vic for you or-”

“Everything’s fine,” you interrupted him in what you hoped was a reassuring tone. What would you normally do in this situation? It seemed like your brain wouldn’t provide you with the necessary information. Hug him, you subconscious whispered to you. Touch him the way you would any other day of your life.

But it wasn’t any other day of your life and as much as your fingers itched to reach out to him, a different part of you was screaming at the implications of it all. But his eyes, his eyes, you had never wanted to worry Thomas a day in your life and seeing him now, knowing you were the one to cause these feelings in him, had you fighting against every fibre that convinced you to keep away.

Your hands found his neck, reaching up to softly place them against his skin, thumbs stroking along the rough stubble that was starting to form on his chin again, a familiar move that had never felt stranger before. You wanted to be normal so desperately but all of your moves caused reactions you hadn’t anticipated.

“We’re fine,” you told him, even though he hadn’t explicitly asked. You needed him to know, more than you needed him in that moment. His breath was hitting your face as he leaned in and you fought the part in you that screamed for you to recirpocrate the gesture and the one that wanted to pull away to safe yourself. Instead, you let yourself fall into the moment, just a little bit, let him kiss your temple, let yourself indulge in him with all your senses.

“I don’t think I could handle it if we weren’t,” he whispered in your ear. You couldn’t either, you thought. You really couldn’t.

It’s why you moved away form him, pried your fingers off his face, not letting yourself miss the feeling of his skin under yours, and put on your fakest smile. He didn’t need to know.

***

Two weeks. The band was gone for two weeks, travelling over Europe, doing more shows, promos, no time to come home, and you were left with your thoughts. Well, with your thoughts and too many videos to be found online that had you hyperfocusing on Thomas’ fingers as they played the loveliest of riffs.

You didn’t want to think about the amount of time you spent in your bed, cuddled up underneath blankets, your hands between your legs when you couldn’t take it anymore, time and time again. It was innocent, you told yourself, a simple fantasy, something temporary, you were single and bored, a slight loss of sanity every time you recalled the way Thomas’ fingers curled around your wrist, imagining how it would translate to your neck, your thighs, your breasts. It wouldn’t change anything. Surely.

There were text messages, the odd video call, from all of them. You followed their journey via social media, not quite part of it, but adjacent enough. And you counted the days until they were back, your best friends, the most missed parts of your life when they left, no matter how much you supported and loved them for doing what they were passionate about. Yet you couldn’t help your anticipation growing with every hour until you got to see them again.

***

The party was a mess. You had arrived two - three? - hours ago, falling into the arms of Vic and Damiano immediately, which was followed by chasing down Ethan, who pressed a kiss to your hair and told you he had missed you. Thomas was harder to come by, a quick shout of hello, hi, give me one minute as he was carried away by some of his friends in an apparent effort to get him to do a keg stand (American much?).

Now everyone was drunk or way past it and after dancing to yet another song you didn’t know with Vic, you finally pulled yourself away, accepting the drink that was pushed into your hand on the way, and made your ways outside. The pool in the garden was covered, just in case the cool breeze wasn’t enough to discourage people from jumping in. Your aim, however, was one of the sunchairs at the edge of it. An opportunity to get some air, away from everyone else, and lie down, trying to get the spinning of your head under control.

Sliding down on the lounger a little, you hoped it would hide you from anyone else venturing outside, hide you from the moonlight illuminating you, but it wasn’t to be. You barely had time to move the drink to safety, dripping some of it down your chin and your neck, before a body squeezed onto the space with you, moving you just enough that neither of you would slip off. The armrest was digging into your back, pressed against your spine as you turned to your side to study Thomas.

He was drunk, or on the verge of it, looking back at youwith blurry eyes, strands of his hair falling into his face, he didn’t bother to push them away. He was beautiful like this, wild and carefree and young and a walking, talking temptation. You could feel a drop of alcohol slip from your chin to your chest, having almost forgotten the near disaster with your drink. Thomas’ eyes were trained solely on your skin now.

He discarded his empty beer bottle, the sound almost scaring you as the glass hit the ground, but your focus was set on him, his fingers, the way they were reaching for you now as everything else faded into background noise. The urge to flinch was barely suppresible as his fingertips touched your chin and ran along the length of your neck, delicately tracing the way the alcohol droplets had taken, until they reached the edge of your shirt, stopping just moments before they would hit the fabric. They left a line of goosebumps in their wake as your body was set aflame, your breathing growing heavier.

Quickly, he scooped up some of the liquid that had pooled there, wiping it off with his finger, before bringing it to his mouth, his tongue darting out to lick it away. You hated how audibly you reacted to him, a little whimper, saying so much more than any words ever could. For a moment, you wondered if he was going to put it in his mouth, give you even more of a visual than you were already getting treated to, but then he dipped it into the liquid again and held it out to you.

Your brain wasn’t quite catching up with you, leaving you in a stupor as you stared back and forth between Thomas’ finger, dripping with liquid, and his face, an anticipating look painted all over it, his own mouth slightly open, watching you just as intently. He tapped against your lower lip and as if on command, you opened up for him, letting his finger press down on your tongue, the taste of your drink mingling with his own.

The switch was tangible as you curled your tongue around his finger, closing your lips to swallow more of it into your mouth. If you hadn’t been sure if the attraction was one-sided before, you suddenly had the clearest indicator that it wasn’t. Thomas didn’t attempt to hide his moan. Fueled by a new kind of confidence, you grabbed onto his hand, leading another finger towards you, letting it join the first one. His movements were uncoordinated, restless, his hips rutting against nothing but clear air between you.

Thomas leaned over, his fingers still firmly planted in your mouth as you lost yourself in the taste and the feeling, pressing his lips against your cheek, carefully, then onto your chin with more force, travelling down and down your neck. You arched against him, gasped around his fingers, exposing more of your neck to him as you turned your head, his tongue licking a long stripe against your skin.

You didn’t know what would have happened, out there, squeezed together on the sun lounger, intertwined in ways you had never been before, but whatever you imagined didn’t matter because none of it happened right then and there. With a loud crash, the background noise came back to you twice as loud as it had been before, it tore you apart in shock.

“Where the fuck is Thomas?” a voice called from inside, then the sound of the door to the backyard being opened. Thomas moved away from you in an instant, jumping up from where you were laying. He spared you one more look, somewhere between surprised and disappointed, before running inside.

You stayed right where you were, trying to catch your breath and silently committing the view of the way his trousers had tightened to your mind forever.

***

“Please tell me that Thomas isn’t cooking,” you exclaimed as you stopped in front of his house with Vic. All you knew was that you’d been invited for an evening of food with the boys as she had picked you up at your place and led you through the streets of Rome.

“Oh god, no,” she replied quickly. “Damiano wants to cook, but his kitchen is being remodeled and Thomas’ is as good as new, ‘cause he never uses it.”

“Alright, I’ll close the food delivery app then.”

The chaos was already in full swing by the time you both arrived in his apartment. Damiano was screaming at Thomas to get the hell away from the stuff as the other desperately attempted to sneak a taste, spoon in hand and halfway to the pot of sauce simmering. The splatter of red against the kitchen tiles told you it wasn’t the first time this had happened. Ethan, meanwhile, was speeding around the table in the middle of the room, desperately trying to catch up with Thomas and keep him from causing more havoc.

In an instant, however, Thomas spotted you, almost climbing over a chair that had been pulled back to get to you. Effectively using you as a human shield, he hid behind your back, arm wrapped around your middle to keep you in place as he ducked his head down, trying to make up for the height difference.

“Don’t!” he shouted. “She’s innocent! Don’t let her get caught up in the war!”

“You’re the one who’s putting her in the middle of the battlefield,” Damiano replied dryly.

“Well, love is a battlefield too, isn’t it?” Thomas pulled you back further his other arm reaching around your shoulders now, hand flat against your chest, just underneath your neck. Your skin was tingling at the contact, you found yourself pressing backwards against him against better judgement.

“That makes no sense,” Vic judged, “but you do you, I’ll set the table for whenever you’re done with… that.” She gestured towards the two of you. You almost spoke up, almost tried to explain your way out of it or laugh it up but Thomas simply said “Got it” and walked the two of you backwards until you were out of sight. His hands on you the whole time.

“Hey you,” Thomas whispered in your ear, too close for comfort and not close enough at the same time, pressing a kiss against the side of your face as he held you.

“Hey,” you breathed back, entirely distracted by the way his fingers trailed upwards. “Missed you.”

“Missed you more.”

You gasped, audibly, as they slowly started caressing your neck, softly at first, then moving to wrap around it. Keeping you safe and secure, the only lifeline as you felt yourself falling apart. A little squeeze.

“You love my fingers everywhere, don’t you?”

You didn’t have it in you to disagree. The whimper gave you away as he grasped onto you a little tighter, leaving you breathless in more than one way.

“Maybe we should find out what they feel like in other places, too.”

The arm that was slung around your waist suddenly moved, grazing the fabric of your dress, almost, almost going between your legs, moving over your thigh, and then suddenly, all you felt was a freezing cold in the places he had touched you as he let go completely. He took a step back, but you didn’t manage to turn around, didn’t manage to move, check his face.

Instead, all that left your mouth in the most pathetically broken voice was, “I think dinner’s ready.”

***

The realisation, the lingering thoughts, the pining, the flirting. You didn’t expect the resolution to come in the middle of the night, but it did, in the form of a knock and whisper of It’s me through the door. He looked tired, sleepy even, and you were pretty sure he was wearing pyjama pants. Had he come here straight from home? Had he been in bed already? When he realised that whatever was on his mind was important enough to deal with right there and then?

You let him in without words, unsure of where to go or what to do, both of you left standing in the small hallway, looking at each other in the dark, trying to figure it all out through nothing but the way the other’s eyes glimmered.

“Can I?” Thomas asked. You didn’t know what he meant, didn’t know what he was referring to, what he wanted, but you nodded, always, anything. It didn’t matter. What had started with a friendship and had been interrupted by a sudden urge was evolving into something more, something more tangible, something everlasting with lightning speed. You allowed him to take the reigns.

He pushed you against the wall, gently enough not to hurt you, but his fingers were pressing into your hips in a way that had you feeling it in your bones. You melted under his touch and then, then his lips were on yours, finally, and it was perfect in a way that made you want to cry. You clawed at his back as you pulled him closer. You had been wanting this for so long, possibly so much longer than you had been actively aware of, that this felt like a release.

You couldn’t tell how you made it into the bedroom at all, your thoughts deeply clouded with nothing but Thomas, Thomas, Thomas but then you were on your back, sinking into the mattress, and your top was being pulled off and you couldn’t get your fingers to stop shaking enough to get him out of his own clothes as well. He didn’t seem to mind as he tenderly removed every piece of fabric covering your body, fingers and lips exploring what he exposed.

As he leaned back, throwing his shirt somewhere into the depths of your room, he stopped in his tracks, studying your body, the way your chest heaved with every shaky breath, how your hands were already reaching for him again, craving the closeness. He looked utterly breathtaking, pale, soft skin, every hair on his chest leading you down, down, down, your hands in his hair, nothing but an insatiable need in his eyes.

Carefully, his fingers traced invisible lines on you, your cheek, over your mouth, not allowing you to open up enough to get a taste of him, your chin, your neck, a hint of the grasp he’d had on your earlier, down to your breasts, feather-light touches on your nipples, down your stomach.

“Where do you want them?”

Your eyes darted between his fingers and his face and you knew that he knew. Had figured out your obsession, your constant thoughts, your innate need.

Your reply came in the form of your legs falling further apart, thighs spreading, inviting him between them. Thomas gave you the faintest smirk, already preoccupied with fulfilling your wish as utter concentration filled his face. You weren’t sure if it were down to him being insecure, unsure whether he could satisfy you appropriately - because as soon as he touched you, right there, you were reduced to a moaning mess, unable to keep any noises to yourself, all silent fantasies finally answered as he traced along your wetness and finally, finally pushed a finger into you.

Your hands fell from his body momentarily, letting yourself fall into the sensation that surpassed every single night you’d laid in bed and imagined this very moment, had tried to recreate it with your own fingers, unsuccessfully, as you now found. Nothing could come close to the real thing.

Leaning back down towards you, the angle of his wrist changed ever so slightly, making his finger slide inside of you even more perfectly. You desperately clawed at his back, silently begging for more, only to feel all air leave your lungs as he let another finger join at the same time as he put his lips against your neck. He immediately stilled, seemingly alarmed by your lack of vocalisation, but all you could do was whisper pleas into his ear and pull him back into you.

Your hands wandered lower, clumsily, and distracted with every single one of his movements, until they found his trousers, trying to push them down but failing miserably. Thomas let go of you, carefully pulling his fingers out, leaving you to cry out at the loss, already missing his warmth, the stretch. He made quick work of the rest of his clothes, barely giving you a moment to take in the view, to realise you finally had him all to yourself, naked and perfect, before he was back on the bed with you.

You moved to push him down, reaching for his hard cock, but he pressed you back into the mattress, gentle fingers ready to leave bruises.

“I just want to be in you,” he breathed. All you could do was kiss him, again and again, and tell him to do it. With a quick grab, you managed to get a condom out of the nightstand, handing it to him with shaky hands that had nothing to do with nervousness. He took it from you, letting you watch as he put it on.

Thomas’ whimpers composed symphonies in your ear, his dick gottenyour thighs, his hand holding onto it, pushing inside of you. If his fingers had had you close to seeing heaven, you were sure you were transcending into paradise now. Wrapping your arms and your legs around him, you pulled him closer, closer, almost making it too difficult for him to actually move, but your brain was focused on nothing but Thomas and the way his skin felt against you, the way his breath was hitting the shell of your ear in harsh bursts, the way he felt inside of you.

You were unravelling embarrassingly quickly as he picked up his speed, fucking you fast and hard, but you had no time feeling unconscious about anything, not with Thomas making you feel like this, moaning into your ear, getting closer himself. You just about managed to squeeze a hand between the two of you, touching yourself through the impossibly close contact, and within moments, you were barrelling towards your release.

When you came undone, it was like a flood you hadn’t known to be held back inside of you finally breaking out, the sensation travelling through your body, letting you feel it deep in every single bone of your body from your toes to your skull, vibrating with the intensity of it, unsure where you ended and Thomas began as he, too, came, harshly grabbing onto your flesh.

You felt yourself stuck in a trance, barely registering when Thomas pulled out, laid down next to you on the bed, held you close. Your breathing seemed to take forever to calm down, as did the beating of your heart, but when both finally did and the world shifted into focus again, it seemed clearer and sharper than ever before.

He gently ran his hand down your face and turned it towards himself, you were more than happy to oblige, putting your lips on his. You couldn’t get enough of him. You weren’t sure if you ever would.

“When did you know?” he asked, quietly.

“Know what?”

“That you wanted me back.”

“Wait-” You sat up a little, propping yourself on your elbows to get a better look at him, but he simply pulled you back into him and pressed another kiss to your mouth. “Wait, want you back?” You studied his face but you found no lie in it. “I had no idea you liked me.”

“I’m in love with you,” he smiled

You couldn’t quite say it back, not yet. As intense and deep as your feelings ran, for you, this was new and delicate and on the edge of scary. He didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to catch on.” His lips so soft against yours. You suddenly couldn’t recall how you had ever not been falling in love with him, had ever thought anyone else could have been that one person for him but you. Now you couldn’t ever imagine not knowing. “I’ll make up for it, forever, if you let me.”

His hand on the back of your head was holding onto you securely and where the sensation of his fingers had only brought lust and need before you could now feel it intertwine itself with something that was so much more.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

***

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[tempobrucera]

Fire Alarms & Love Hearts

Pairing: Fem!Reader/Thomas

Description: Thomas might be the reason why you and your neighbours are getting annoyed. And he might also be the one who asks you for a date.

Words: 10.1k

Warnings: Smut, it’s silly - I’m well aware of that

A/N: About 1 ½ years ago i received this lovely prompt and guess who finally wrote it @l0standn0tf0und

Add yourself to my taglist.  / Masterlist

._____.

It's the beginning of November even for Rome the night air is chilling, and you would like to be in bed instead of staying outside in the cold. In your pyjamas. Your neighbours are all outside with you, the fire alarm went off the second night this week. The second night you're staring at your neighbour, you think you overheard someone call him Thomas a few nights ago. He's standing there only in his briefs and while you're still asking yourself how he isn't cold you see him shiver.

"I probably should have grabbed my bathrobe on the way out," he says. You know you should say something but you're busy looking at him, he's tall, fascinating eyes, cute smile and your sleep deprived brain can’t handle anything at this moment. “But then no one’s really dressed for the occasion, are they?”

You realise he's talking to you, and you blush. "Sorry?"

He giggles.

"I’m cold, my ass is going to freeze and fall off and then it's going to get lost somewhere around here and the city is going to be sued because of a naked butt running around and..." He trails off.

Now you are the one laughing.

“I’m sure that’s not what you said before but we can’t have your butt get lost, good thing it looks like they’re letting us inside again."

You're right. A few minutes later you're back in your apartment, ready to fall asleep again. Snuggled in your blankets, thinking about Thomas winking at you before you parted ways again.

When you leave the next day you can see a little note on your door.

“Hello neighbour,

I would like to ask you out for dinner.

If you're interested just let me know, if not please burn this note and never mention it to anyone! And just pretend you don’t know who I am the next time you see me.

P.S. My ass is still in place, no suing yet ;)

P.P.S. You should ask out the cute guy from the floor above you.

Thom"

You're laughing as you fold the note and put it into the pocket of your coat, not knowing how you should respond. Bold you think, but somehow charming. And now you also know who lives in the flat over you, the wind sometimes carrying lovely guitar tunes to your window from his.

It takes you three days to have the courage until you're knocking on Thomas' door. He opens the door in his pyjamas, messy hair and his mouth open in surprise.

"Hi, I'm your neighbour from downstairs, the one you asked out for dinner" you say, a big grin on your face.

He laughs, and you are glad that you didn't just leave a message and go to your flat again.

"Yes, yes, I did," he says, opening the door for you, "but right now I'm making pancakes.”

“Is that what’s smelling like it’s burning?”

His eyes go wide.

"Shit!"

He turns around and runs to the kitchen. You take the time to look at his flat, there are a few books. Guitars. Magazines. A stray sock on the floor. Photos.

He comes back out a few minutes later, smiling sheepishly.

"Okay, so, it's not burnt. It's just... not exactly the way I had planned."

You knit your eyebrows together thinking about the fire alarms again but shake your head at yourself and smile at him instead.

“I would share them but …. I was kind of planning to eat them straight from the pan and my cooking isn’t exactly made to be shared, or even fit for human consumption.“

You laugh.

"I would like to share them anyway," you say and wink at him, "and I'm sure they're delicious."

He smiles back.

"Well then, sit down and let me be your host," he says. “But if you get food poisoning that’s on you, I warned you.”

“You can say if now is a bad time instead of trying to poison me if you want to, that would be perfectly okay, maybe I should have just written a reply to the note. So sorry if I'm interrupting anything. Or anyone."

"You're not. I'm not... I mean... I'm single. I'm sorry." He blushes. "I didn't mean to say that. Fuck. I mean..."

You start laughing.

"Okay. Calm down. Breathe. It's fine, I promise.”

“I’m only in my pyjamas. I wasn't really expecting anyone. Let alone the person I tried to ask out."

You smile at him.

"Well, I didn't expect you to still be in pyjamas in the middle of the day either." It's 4 o'clock in the afternoon, you really didn't think he would be in his pyjamas.

He looks at you sheepishly: "Good point. You can have my pancakes but only if you're getting in your pyjamas as well."

It's something you can agree on and ten minutes later you're sitting in his living room, in your pyjamas. He smiles and laughs and you have a nice fuzzy feeling when he looks at you. You talk about music, about travelling, about everything and nothing. When it's dark outside and you're full of pancakes, that are only half as bad as he thought and said but somehow still burned at the edges and the inside that should be fluffy sometimes not quite cooked. You're glad you took the chance. He's fun to be around and you talk more, about concerts, memories and favourite places. It's easy to talk to him, and it's even easier to laugh with him. When the conversation dies down a little bit and your eyes are getting heavy, he looks at you and grins.

"We should do that again."

You look at him, he's beautiful, he's sweet, you nod.

"Yes. Definitely."

"Maybe not in pyjamas next time."

*_____*

Thomas doesn't really think he can call it a date, it's not a real one, but it's a great evening and definitely a beginning of something. He likes you, he would love to take you out, and he feels like a fool for having given you a note and not asked you out directly. It's not his usual behaviour. When he's walking you to the door, he thinks about kissing you. But you're just getting to know each other, so he hugs you, and kisses you on the cheek instead. You're grinning and wave at him, he watches you walk to the door and down the hall to his front door.

"See you around?" He asks, a little hope in his voice.

"Of course. I think that's an offer I can't refuse."

"Good, next time I'll take you out for dinner." He says, you lean in and for a second he thinks you're going to kiss him, but you just give him a quick kiss on the nose.

"That would be wonderful," you say and then you're gone.

He goes back inside, closing the door and leaning against it.

"Fuck," he says to himself. "I've got it so bad."

*_____*

Two weeks later you're going out for dinner with Thomas. He's a little late and when he walks into the restaurant he's already apologising from afar.

"I'm so sorry, the traffic is hell," he says, his eyes wide. "And my phone battery died and I couldn't call you. But I'm here, finally."

You smile.

"It's fine," you say and you take a deep breath, he's so cute, you already knew that but seeing him makes you nervous and happy and giddy. A feeling you haven't had in a while. He sits down opposite you. "And I have to say it's nice to see you in something different than your pyjamas or only in underwear."

He blushes.

"You liked the sight then," he says with a smirk and winks at you.

You look at him, raising an eyebrow and grin.

"I didn't say that."

He chuckles and starts looking through the menu. You watch him, trying to figure him out, but it's not as easy as you first had thought.

"Do you want some wine?" He asks, looking at you.

"That sounds great," you say.

He looks at you, you think he's waiting for a question, but you're not sure what.

"I have another idea," you say, hoping it's a good one.

"What would that be?"

"A bet."

He raises an eyebrow.

"What would this bet involve?"

"We have to make the other one blush, the first one to lose the game has to pay for dinner."

He laughs.

"So we're both going to be in trouble tonight."

"Maybe, maybe not."

He looks at you and smiles, "okay, we can do that, but I should warn you I've got a few tricks up my sleeve."

"We'll see," you say.

And with that the game begins. You're looking at each other, smiling, flirting, and you're having fun.

The waiter comes over and asks for your order, Thomas gets Carbonara, and you're getting ravioli.

"Can I try yours?" You ask.

"Yes, if I can try yours."

You're nodding and when the food arrives a few minutes later, you take turns feeding each other.

"This is amazing," you say.

"Yours is too, do you think we should switch?"

You're smiling, shaking your head.

"No, it's good."

"Do you think the pasta is as good as me?"

"Don't make me answer that."

He chuckles.

"I would say we can just not decide who has to pay and just split it."

"You would say that, and I can't tell if it's because you're afraid of losing or because you're trying to be a gentleman."

"I'm always a gentleman." He laughs.

He smiles at you and for a second he looks at his hands, before looking up at you.

"I'm not afraid," he says. He takes your hand, and you know you should prepare yourself for something, "your lips look lonely, would they like to meet mine?"

He looks at you expectantly, his eyes wide, a little shy. It's endearing. And it's really adorable. You try to stay serious, to not laugh. But when his face changes from hopeful to worried and then he's trying to pull his hand away, you can't help yourself.

"That was the worst line ever," you say, laughing.

"I don't know if I should be offended? Are you laughing at me?"

"No," you say, still laughing, "actually it's kinda cute just... it's cute, and I can't believe you actually said that. I thought you're going to make me blush with something dirty but you're just being adorable."

"Hey," he says, pretending to be offended. "I'm not adorable, I'm handsome and I'm..."

"Adorable."

"Not."

You're shaking your head.

"Definitely."

He pretends to pout, which makes you laugh even more. And you can see the blush creep into his cheeks.

"I can't believe I'm the loser of this bet," he says, sighing.

"You might be, but you're right, my lips are a little bit lonely. Mind to help out?"

"I can try, not making any promises though," he says, he leans closer, putting his lips on yours, and kissing you softly. You're smiling, and so is he. It's a short kiss, and it's not really enough, but it's still perfect.

When he pulls away, he's looking at you, his eyes full of wonder, his mouth slightly open.

"What?" You ask.

"I just want to savour the moment, I haven't kissed many people lately, and it feels a little strange to have my first real kiss in a while after a bad pick-up line."

You chuckle.

"You can have another one if you like."

He nods and kisses you again.

*_____*

When dinner is over, Thomas walks you home. He takes your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. He doesn't want the night to end, he likes being with you, and he has a feeling that you might like him too.

He brings you right to your apartment door and kisses you goodbye. It's soft and sweet and you're smiling, leaning into him. He can feel your smile against his lips, and he wants more.

He kisses you a little harder, his tongue flicking out to touch your bottom lip, and then your upper lip. A surprised moan escapes him when you open your mouth, granting him entrance, his tongue sliding over yours. Your arms wrap around him, holding him close, his body pressed against yours, and he can feel you against him. Your soft curves, your breasts pressing against his chest, your warmth and the smell of your skin, it's all intoxicating.

When the kiss ends, his lips are tingling. He looks at you, his mouth open and his breathing a little faster.

"You're good," you say, a smile on your lips.

He blushes.

"Thanks," he whispers.

He's leaning in again, kissing your cheek, and then the side of your neck, nuzzling your skin.

"Thomas," you whisper, his name coming out as a sigh.

He likes the sound of it, he wants to hear it again.

"Hmm," he hums, pressing a kiss right under your ear, sucking gently on your skin, his hands stroking your back. And then he pulls back. "I should say goodnight before I do something stupid."

You look at him, and for a moment he's afraid you'll disagree.

"Yeah," you say, sighing. "You're right."

He's glad that you understand, and a little disappointed that you're agreeing to let things progress slowly.

"Thank you for the lovely evening," he says.

"Thank you."

"I hope we can do that again, soon."

"Me too."

You give him a quick peck on the lips, then you're gone, closing the door behind you.

He stands in front of your door for a moment, his hand on the door, smiling.

"Fuck yes," he says to himself, a spring in his step when he gets up the steps to his own flat.

*_____*

After your third date with Thomas he's away for some time but he texts you. The first night he's back, is the night before your holidays and the first night another fire alarm goes off again, it's the beginning of January. You're annoyed, it's freezing cold outside, your flight is early and not even Thomas who's standing there in only his briefs again, with a bowl of pasta, can't make you smile.

"Hi neighbour," he says.

"Hi," you grumble.

He puts the bowl down, walking towards you and taking your hand.

"What's wrong?"

"I've got an early flight tomorrow, and now the stupid fire alarm went off, and..."

Thomas looks at you with guilt in his eyes, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, "I'm sure the fire department is going to be quick."

"They better be," you say.

You turn around and see the firefighter that you already saw talking to Thomas the last few times. Thomas tries to sneak away, you look at his pasta that all of a sudden looks suspiciously burnt.

"Is this your doing?"

He smiles sheepishly, "maybe."

"Maybe," the firefighter says. "I have a feeling, it might be your boyfriend who's a little bit clueless in the kitchen."

"That's not true, my pancakes are delicious." He says and looks at you for help.

You look at them both.

"Not my boyfriend, not really, and your pancakes were for human consumption but also ... burnt a bit," you say, and the firefighter looks at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Okay, they were horrible, but I didn't burn anything in a while. Just today."

The firefighter sighs.

"This is the sixth time in not even as many months, please order pizza or go to a cooking class, please, for your neighbours sake," he says and you look at him.

"You're really getting a cooking class," you say to Thomas, "this is not negotiable, you can't cook, and everyone's getting fed up with being woken up by the fire alarm. You need a teacher, or someone, just... something. Please."

Thomas sighs, but he agrees.

"Fine."

"Good," you say.

It's not much longer until the building is empty again and the fire alarm is shut off. You walk to your apartment, and Thomas follows you.

"Sorry about the pancakes, and the pasta, and the fire alarm. And the other fire alarms," he says, sighing.

You shrug.

"It's okay, and now that the fire department knows that the fire alarm is set off by an incompetent cook, they hopefully know for future incidents. Now I should sleep, I'm getting up way too early tomorrow."

"Good night," he says.

"Night."

He hugs you, and kisses you, and you're glad to be inside again.

*_____*

The first time you sleep with Thomas is after you're back, the two of you are spending more and more time together, and there is no way you would ever describe it as 'just friends'. You've been flirting with him, and he with you.

Thomas is kissing you passionately. His hands are under your shirt. You're kissing back, trying to keep up with his kisses and his movements. You're in his bed and while you are both still wearing shirts and underwear you feel a little too warm all of a sudden. He is on top of you, kissing down your neck and biting softly, you let out a soft moan.

"Fuck," he whispers.

"What is it?"

"This is embarrassing, but... I might not last long," he whispers, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"Don't worry about that, I won't be offended," you say, stroking his hair, and kissing his temple. “Feels like a compliment to me.”

"Still."

"It's fine."

He lifts his head, looking at you, smiling, his eyes full of hope and lust. He kisses you again, and starts rubbing against you. The thin layer of fabric is the only thing separating the two of you. You're grinding back, moving together, and it's not long until you're both gasping, and you're holding on to him. His hands are moving, slipping under the waistband of your panties, pushing them down, and then his hands are between your legs. You can feel his fingers on your folds, stroking gently.

"Shit," you breathe, your eyes falling shut.

He's moving, getting between your legs and kneeling on the floor. You prop yourself up on your elbows, and look down at him, watching him, he's licking his lips, and looking at you, his pupils wide. You watch him and he leans in, his breath hot against your skin, his lips kissing the inside of your thigh.

He kisses upwards, getting closer and closer, and when his mouth finally touches you, your head falls back, and a moan leaves your mouth. He's sucking and licking, his tongue teasing your clit, his fingers thrusting into you. Your breathing is ragged and fast, your heart is racing, it doesn't take long until the wave of pleasure is crashing down on you.

"God, fuck, Thomas," you gasp, as the orgasm washes over you.

He keeps going, drawing out the pleasure - making you tremble and writhe. When he's finished, you're lying on the bed, breathing hard. He gets up, and gets rid of his underwear, and his shirt, and when he climbs back on the bed, he's naked. He leans down, kissing you.”

"Can I?" He asks, looking at you.

"Yes, please."

He lines himself up and slowly pushes into you, you can feel him stretching you, filling you, and you wrap your legs around his waist.

"Shit," he breathes.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, it's just..." he trails off, not finishing his sentence, and he starts to move, his thrusts are slow and gentle.

You can see the expression on his face, his mouth is hanging open, his eyes are closed, and he's moaning, and whispering. His name is on your lips, and you're holding onto him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

His thrusts become faster and harder, his breathing is getting ragged. He's moaning, his hips stuttering. He's groaning and grunting, his body tensing, and his muscles straining, and when he comes, his whole body shakes. He collapses on top of you, his weight resting on you, and his head resting on your chest.

You stroke his hair, and kiss the top of his head, and he's breathing heavily, his eyes closed.

"Sorry," he whispers, after a few moments.

"It's fine."

"It's been a while."

"You can't control these things."

He rolls off of you, and turns his head, his eyes opening.

"I'll make it up to you," he says.

"There's nothing to make up, really. It was wonderful."

"Still," he says.

*_____*

Thomas' birthday is coming up and even though by now he has told his friends and the band about you, he's still nervous asking you to join them for the evening. In the end he doesn't know what he was so worried about, you're excited and happy about the invitation.

Thomas is in the middle of his party, surrounded by friends and family, and you're sitting next to him, with a beer and a slice of cake, and he's happy. You're holding his hand, and occasionally lean over to kiss him.

Victoria is pulling you away from him to dance with you, and he's smiling and laughing as he watches the two of you.

"Good job," she whispers into his ear after she's sick of dancing.

"Thank you!" He has to grin, and then she's gone, and you're back by his side.

"How's the birthday boy doing?"

"Great, now that my girlfriend is back," he says.

You raise an eyebrow.

"Girlfriend?"

"Yes," he says, looking at you, a hopeful smile on his face.

"Okay, boyfriend," you say.

He blushes, and smiles, his eyes are wide but his smile is almost shy. He pulls you in, kissing you softly, and wrapping his arm around you.

"I like that," he says.

"Me too."

*_____*

He drags you into the bedroom as soon as most of the people have left and you can't stop smiling and laughing. Thomas closes the door and turns around to look at you. You're standing there, your hair is a little messy, your shirt is crumpled, and your cheeks are flushed. He can't stop looking at you, and when he doesn't say anything, you take a step forward.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes," he says, and closes the distance between the two of you, kissing you, and holding you close.

He starts unbuttoning your shirt, and kisses the skin that's revealed, then pushes the shirt off your shoulders, it lands on the floor, and then his hands are on your breasts, squeezing gently.

You pull his shirt off, and your fingers trail down his sides, making him shudder. His skin is warm, his stomach soft. You push him down onto the bed, he lies back, looking up at you, his pupils blown, his breathing ragged, and his cock hard.

"I've got a surprise for you, birthday boy.”

"Oh yes," he says, his voice hoarse.

"Close your eyes."

He does, and you take some lube from the nightstand, and get out of your skirt and your underwear, and kneel next to him, straddling his thigh. You squeeze some lube into the palm of your hand, warming it up between your fingers.

"Can I look now?" He asks, impatiently.

"Almost," you say, and then your hands are on his cock, stroking him, your thumb brushing over the tip, his hips bucking into your touch.

"Fuck," he whispers, and he bites his lip, trying to stay quiet, his eyes still closed.

You start moving, your hand stroking his cock, and he's groaning, his hands are grasping the sheets, and he's arching his back, and thrusting into your hand.

"Fuck, please," he gasps, and you stop.

He opens his eyes and looks at you, his mouth hangs open, and his tongue darts out to lick his lips.

"That was mean," he says, but the smile on his lips is telling you that he liked it. “Is my surprise only sex or is there more? Like is it edible underwear or something, a costume … oh," he cuts himself off, when he sees the look on your face.

You raise an eyebrow.

"A costume. You'd like me in a costume, wouldn't you?"

He's blushing, and his cock twitches, he doesn't answer, he doesn't has to.

"Wouldn't you?"

"Yeah," he admits.

You laugh.

"Well, I don't have one now, but if I find one, I might surprise you," you say, “I have something different for you, I want to eat you out and when you’re a whimpering mess, I want to ride you."

"Fuck, yes," he breathes.

"Lie back and relax."

"I can do that," he says.

You lean down and start kissing his chest, nipping and licking his skin. You can feel his heartbeat, his breathing shallow. You're working your way down, kissing his stomach. You take his cock in your hand, and stroke him, and he moans. You kiss further down, getting between his legs, and licking his balls, and then his cock. He's moaning, his hips jerking.

"Oh god, please," he gasps.

You continue, sucking his balls into your mouth, and then moving back. He spreads his legs a little further apart, and lifts his hips, you kiss his thighs, and stroke his cock, your other hand moves between his cheeks, and when your finger brushes over his hole, his hips jerk violently.

"Fuck," he gasps.

"Can I?" You ask.

"Please," he begs.

You're spreading his legs a little more, and kissing the inside of his thighs, and then you're licking his hole, your tongue teasing the tight ring of muscle. He's panting and gasping, his eyes closed, his mouth hanging open. He's writhing on the bed, his hips moving, and when you push your tongue into him, he's swearing, his hands gripping the sheets.

“Oh god, please don’t stop. Shit, please. Fuck, this is amazing, shit, please, fuck, I want- I need- please, please, please, please," he's babbling, and when you reach between his legs, and wrap your fingers around his cock, his body is shaking, and he's swearing. "Fuck, oh god, please, please, I need you. If you keep fucking me this good," he gasps. “I might just have to marry you.”

Your mouth is still on him but you smile, and you're licking and sucking, your hand is stroking his cock.

For Thomas it feels like minutes, for you, it must have been less than a minute. He's writhing and swearing, and moaning, his breathing is ragged, and his hips are stuttering, his cock throbbing and leaking pre-come. He's a mess, his back arched, fingers entangled in your hair.

“You enjoy that?”

"Fuck, yes. Yes. God, yes, please, please, I need you, please," he pants, and his eyes are wide open, looking at you.

"You ready for me, birthday boy?"

"Yes, yes, please," he whispers.

You kneel over him, straddling his waist, guiding him to your entrance. He's holding on to your hips, his eyes squeezed shut. You lower yourself, and when the head of his cock slips into you, the both of you moan. You're moving, taking him in inch by inch, and when he's completely inside you, you're sitting in his lap. You move your hips, riding him, and he's thrusting up into you, his cock rubbing against your walls, hitting all the right places. He's groaning, and his fingers dig into your skin.

“That was so good, no one ever did that for me before, I didn't think I'd like it, but fuck, this was amazing," he's talking, and it sounds almost like he's drunk. Drunk on lust and emotions.

You start riding him, your hips moving, and he's thrusting up into you, his moans fill the room, and the sounds of your bodies moving together. The slap of skin against skin is the only sound, apart from his voice.

"Please, don't stop," he's begging, and his words are slurring, his movements becoming erratic. His back arches, his muscles tense, and his body starts to shake, his grip on your hips tightens, and his mouth falls open. "Oh god, fuck, fuck, please, oh god, please, please, please, please, oh god," his voice is hoarse, and then his hips are jerking, and his cock is throbbing and his eyes are squeezed shut, his body is shaking, his nails digging into your skin. He's gasping, and his cock pulses inside of you.

He's panting, his eyes are open, and he looks at you, his gaze unfocused. You lift your hips, and he slips out of you, his hands are resting on your hips, his grip still tight, and his breathing is laboured.

You roll off of him, and lie down next to him. When he reaches for you, you hold him. His body is trembling, and his heart is beating fast. He's breathing hard, and his eyes are closed.

"Wow, that was amazing," he mumbles.

"It was," you say, kissing his temple.

"I need to clean up, give me a second," he says, and he's trying to get up.

"Stay, I'll do it."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

He's smiling, eyes still closed, his head resting on the pillow, and his breathing is getting steadier again. You get up, and walk into the bathroom, and return with a washcloth.

"This was the best birthday present," he says, looking at you. “No candy underwear but you can’t have everything.”

"It was a pleasure."

"What about you?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, I came long before you.”

"You did?"

"Yes."

He smiles, and closes his eyes. You're cleaning him up, wiping away the sweat, and his come, and his eyelids flutter. You put the washcloth into the laundry basket, and crawl back into bed.

"I'll do something for you, just let me catch my breath," he says, his words are slurred, and his breathing is deep.

"There's no need," you whisper.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He nods, and he's snuggling closer to you before he drifts off to sleep.

"Happy birthday," you whisper, and press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he sighs contently.

*_____*

A couple of weeks later, you're sitting in the dressing room with Victoria after a show. He's sitting on a couch, his legs spread wide, and he's talking to someone. You can't hear what they're saying, but you're watching him. His smile, and the way his eyes light up, the way he talks. The way he moves his hands.

Victoria is next to you, she's watching you, and a smile is playing on her lips.

"You're staring," she says.

"Yes," you answer.

She's grinning.

"Do you need help?" She asks.

"No."

"I know a lot about him."

"I don't doubt it."

"I mean, if you wanted to surprise him," she says, and winks.

“Actually I would need your help,” you smile, “Valentine’s is coming up and I would like to do something. Something a bit romantic, and something a bit, you know, … sexy.”

She's grinning, and her eyes light up.

"Oh yes, I would love to help you with that."

"As long as it doesn’t involve edible underwear,” you laugh.

She looks at you confused.

"No, but why would you think that?"

"Thomas mentioned it. He was curious about it."

"Oh," she grins, "c’mon it would make him laugh. You’re both silly like that. Just do it as an extra little thing, a candy bra and some really nice lace panties.”

“You’re right, if nothing else it would make him laugh, and he would love it. Thank you, Vic, for all the help you gave me and I would be honoured to have your advice and assistance with this."

"So, what do you have planned so far?"

"I'll tell you, but first I need to ask Thomas if he has any plans for the day, because if he does, we have to plan around them."

"Sounds like a good idea," she agrees. “He’s a romantic, so I don’t think he has other than plans he might have come up with already, but I can interrogate him a little bit. So what’s the plan?”

“I want to cook with him at home. You know how he set off the fire alarms a few times when he tried cooking and I figured that we can try it together, and maybe I can help him, make sure that we won't have a repeat performance of those days. Maybe we can do it together, so he will actually learn something, or maybe we'll fail spectacularly together. Light some candles, maybe get a bit wine drunk. And then after dinner, maybe have a bath and then go to bed, have sex, cuddle. Just the two of us, and a nice relaxed evening. No stress, no worries, just us. What do you think?"

"It sounds great," Victoria smiles. "So, what are you going to cook?"

"We never really cooked together before, but I did some research and I found a recipe for a lasagne, that sounds really good. We should be able to manage that. Worst case scenario we’re ending up with take-out.”

“Great, I’ll let you know when I find something out.”

._____.

Later that day, you're in bed, you're naked, and his face is buried between your thighs, his tongue is lapping at your wetness. His fingers are inside of you, and he's working his tongue on your clit. You're arching your back, almost grinding against his mouth. He's humming, you can feel the vibrations, and his teeth graze your clit.

His tongue is flat moving down, licking the length of your folds, and he's nipping at the sensitive skin. His fingers are curling and rubbing against the sweet spot inside of you, and when his other hand moves from your hip, and his finger brushes over your entrance, your breath hitches.

"Fuck," you gasp.

"That's the plan," he says, his voice muffled.

"Fuck," you say again.

He chuckles and his finger slides into you, his tongue is teasing your clit. His lips wrap around your clit, and he's sucking gently. Your hands are on his head, your fingers running through his hair, and your hips are moving. He's fucking you, his fingers are curling and pressing, and his tongue is stroking and licking, and your body is tensing.

"Thomas, please," you beg.

He doesn't stop, and his finger pushes in and out of you, his lips wrapped around your clit, his tongue licking, and his fingers are hitting all the right places. You're arching, and your hips are moving, and you can feel the orgasm building up. Your muscles are clenching, your breath hitches, and your toes are curling. You're close, so close, and you're grinding against his mouth, and his finger is still moving inside you.

"Fuck, Thomas," you gasp, and you're coming.

Your body is tensing, and your eyes are squeezing shut, your back is arching. Your muscles clench, and your walls are gripping his finger, and he's still fucking you, and his lips are wrapped around your clit, his tongue licking and sucking. Your hips jerk, and you're shaking, and he just doesn't stop.

He's lapping and licking, and you're squirming, and your hips are bucking, and you're whimpering. His finger is pressing and pushing, and his tongue is lapping and stroking, and your back is arching. He's humming, and your breathing is ragged.

You're tugging at his hair, and you're whimpering.

"Thomas, please, I need a moment, please," you're panting.

He stops, and looks at you, his chin is glistening, and his eyes are dark, and there's a small smirk playing on his lips.

"Are you tired already?"

"Yes, very much, I need a break," you say.

"You'll get one," he says.

He gets up, and moves over you, and your bodies are touching, his weight on top of you, and his cock is hard and twitching against your thigh, and you reach between your bodies, and wrap your fingers around his shaft, and start stroking him. He's groaning, and his head falls forward, and he's burying his face in your neck. His breath is hot against your skin, and he's rocking his hips, his cock sliding through your fingers.

He's panting and gasping, and you can feel him throb, his precum is smearing across your stomach. He's thrusting his hips, and his breath is hitching like yours before. He's moving, his hips jerking, and he's pushing his cock into your hand, his body is shaking, and his fingers dig into the mattress.

"Please, I want to come inside you," he moans.

"Do it," you say, and his cock twitches, and you spread your legs a little wider, and guide him between your folds, and he's entering you slowly.

"Fuck," he moans, and his body is trembling.

"You're so wet," he gasps, and his eyes are closed.

You lift your legs, and wrap them around his waist, and he's completely inside you, and he's still for a moment. He's panting, his cock is pulsing, and his muscles are tensing, and he starts moving, his thrusts are shallow, and his eyes are closed, and his lips are slightly parted, and his hair is hanging in his face. His hands are on either side of your head, and his body is shaking.

"Thomas, look at me," you say.

He looks at you, his eyes are glassy, and his pupils are blown.

"I'm not made of glass, please fuck me."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, please," you beg, and you move, and wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. He starts moving, his movements slow and deliberate, and his breathing is ragged, and his muscles are tense, he's gritting his teeth.

"Harder, please," you moan, and your hips are bucking - matching his thrusts. Your back is arching, and his eyes fall shut, and he's pushing into you, his thrusts are hard.

"Shit, oh fuck," he groans.

“God, so good, Thom, please," you gasp, and his body is trembling.

He's gasping and moaning, and he's leaning down, and kisses you, his mouth is on yours, and he's thrusting into you, his movements erratic, and his fingers are gripping the sheets.

"You're so beautiful," he pants, and his voice is raspy.

He's moving faster, and his cock is sliding in and out of you, his lips on yours, and his tongue is moving against yours. Your legs are shaking, and you can feel the pressure inside of you building again. The tension coils in your belly, you're getting closer, and your fingers dig into his shoulders. You're gasping, his name a breathy moan.

"Please, Thomas, please," you beg.

"Please, what?"

"I want to come, I'm close," you moan.

"I know, love, so am I, please, come for me," he gasps. “Come again, please.”

He's moving his hips, his thrusts are fast and hard, and you're gasping and moaning, and his movements become more erratic.

"Shit, I'm close," he moans.

Your muscles clench, and the tension in your belly is too much, you can't hold it any longer. You're coming, your body is shaking, you're crying out, your body is arching, and you're clinging to him. His cock is throbbing and twitching, and his hips are jerking, and he's coming. You're trembling, and his cock is still pulsing, and his body is shuddering, and his face is buried in your neck.

"Fuck," he groans.

"Yes, indeed," you breathe.

*_____*

“What are you doing on Valentine’s Day?” Vic asks him some days later just after they had dinner together.

“Yes, so I was thinking of taking her to Verona for a day or two. Or maybe go to the planetarium and have a nice dinner afterwards. What do you think?”

“It’s great, Thom. But maybe you should do Verona another time, take her to the planetarium and maybe don’t worry about dinner. Romantic night in, you know.”

“You know something I don’t know, don’t you? Okay, planetarium and romantic night in. Understood.”

She grins and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

._____.

It's Valentine's day and you're sitting on the couch together for breakfast. You made pancakes, edible and not burned. After you finish eating he's kissing you, and his arms are around your waist, his body is warm against yours. His lips are soft, and his breath is hot, and then he's pulling away from the kiss.

"I have a present for you," he says.

"So do I," you smile.

"Me first," he says, and his cheeks are red.

He's taking a little box from the cupboard, and gives it to you, and you open it, and there's a bracelet. A thin, golden bracelet with three charms. A tiny rose, a guitar, and a heart.

"Oh Thomas," you whisper. "Thank you, I love it."

"Really?"

"Yes."

You take the bracelet and put it on.

"It's so beautiful, thank you."

He's smiling, and there's a pink blush on his cheeks.

"And now your turn," he says.

You're going to your room and take a bigger, gift wrapped box, and give it to him, and he sits on the couch next to you opening it. In it is a knitted sweater, he takes it and he smiles. The sweater is pale blue, and has a white pattern of musical notes and stars on it.

"Oh, this is so beautiful," he whispers. “I can’t believe you knitted for me.”

"I'm glad you like it."

"I love it." He gives you a kiss, “and I thought we could go to the planetarium and I was told to have a romantic night in.”

“Yes, the night is my part of the plan.” You smile.

._____.

When you arrive at the planetarium it's almost empty. There's only a group of school children, a couple and a few people that seem to be there just to have a look around, but there's no guided tour and no lectures, so you're wandering around, looking at the exhibits, and watching the different shows while holding hands.

At some point, when the children have left and you're alone in the room, there's a show about the northern lights, and Thomas is staring at the ceiling. His eyes are sparkling, he smiles at you.

"One day I want to see them with you," he says.

"Someday, maybe."

"Yes, someday," he sighs, and smiles.

The lights dim, the show ends, and you're leaving the room. You're wandering through the hall, looking at the displays, and the pictures of the different constellations and galaxies, and stars. You're standing in front of the big picture of the milky way. Thomas is behind you, his arms are around your waist, nuzzling your neck.

“What’s your favourite,” he asks.

"You're my favourite," you whisper back.

"Your favourite galaxy, silly.”

"That would be still you," you say, and he kisses your neck.

"I’m also quite fond of you," he chuckles.

"So, which one is yours?"

"That would be the Orion nebula."

"Why that one?"

"Because of the colours and the beauty, and the fact that it's made from gas, dust and stardust, and the fact that it's a birthplace for stars, that makes it special to me."

You look at him.

“Maybe Ethan talked a lot about space lately and I think it might not be a galaxy, but it is still something related to the universe, so we’ll pretend that it still counts."

He's laughing and kisses you.

._____.

When you are back home and there's music playing, the lights are dim - the candles are flickering.

“I thought we could make lasagne together, have some wine, have a bath and later move to bed, have some more wine and then sleep or do other things."

He laughs.

"That sounds wonderful."

You start cooking together. Chopping, sizzling and at some point there's tomato sauce spilled, and tomato on the wall, and on the kitchen counter.

"Oops, sorry," he laughs.

"It's okay, I'll clean it up," you laugh.

You're cleaning up the mess, and then there's tomato on his face, and on his shirt, and you're still laughing. He's taking the bowl, puts it on the kitchen counter, and moves closer to you. He's leaning in, his lips touching yours, his hands are on your waist. His tongue is pushing against your lips and he's deepening the kiss.

“We should cook first, at least have the ragu sauce cooking,” you say between kisses.

"Yes, that's right," he whispers.

He's smiling and kisses your nose.

"Later," he says and winks, which makes you giggle.

You're making the ragu sauce, he's holding you from behind, his chin is on your shoulder, and his lips are against your neck.

"Do you need a hand?" He asks.

"No, the sauce is fine," you say, and his hands are roaming over your body, his mouth is on your neck, and he's nipping and kissing. His lips are brushing against your ear.

"Thomas, stop, or I won't be able to focus," you laugh.

"That's exactly what I'm hoping for," he chuckles. “Also don’t deny it but I saw that earlier. You checked out my ass when I bent down to take out the wine glasses and the bottle."

You smile and giggle.

"Yes, and I'm not even sorry, it's a really cute butt."

"Thanks, it's a gift from God, and I'm not even kidding."

You laugh and turn your head, your lips brush against his.

"Yes, it is."

He's laughing, and his fingers are digging into your waist.

"I love you," he says, his voice is low. His breath is warm against your skin. And his heart is beating against your back.

"I love you too."

He smiles and kisses you. Thomas’ hands are cupping your face and he's leaning his forehead against yours.

“Can we make out while the things in the pots are cooking and boiling, please, and maybe a bit later?"

You're giggling.

"Yes, I would like that," you say.

His lips are soft. His tongue is licking and sliding against yours, his hands are sliding over your body. Thomas’ touch is gentle. He's lifting you up on the kitchen counter and you're wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Can I touch your cute godsend butt," you ask, and his body is shaking with laughter.

"Yes, yes you can, and I would be offended if you didn't."

You're running your hands over his shoulders, down his back, right to his ass. Thomas’ hands are in your hair, his hips pressed against yours. His lips are sliding along your jaw, down your neck, and he's sucking at the spot just under your ear. His hardening cock is pressing against your core.

"Thom, the sauce will burn," you gasp.

"Right," he whispers, “but it’s not burning yet, let me kiss you some more."

"Okay," and with that he's deepening the kiss again.

His fingers are slipping under your skirt, his thumbs are brushing against the lace of your panties. His hand is sliding between your legs, he's slowly pushing the fabric aside, and his fingers are tracing along your folds, he's circling your entrance. And then his fingers are entering you, his thumb stroking over your clit.

"God, you're so wet," he moans.

"Thomas," you gasp.

"Mhm?"

"The sauce, it's burning."

"Shit," he curses. Then his hand is gone, he steps back and turns off the heat.

"Sorry." He gives you an apologetic little smile.

“Is this how you triggered the fire alarm before, cooking, and getting distracted?"

"Yeah, I tried to make dinner once, and I forgot to stir the sauce, and the next thing I knew the alarm was blaring."

“Making out? Or just distracted.”

“Just distracted, I wasn’t making out with anyone, I was alone in the flat, and had no idea why the alarm was going off, I was a little confused. It took a few seconds to figure out it was the food on the stove. Once or twice or maybe … more.”

"I'm not even surprised, and I can relate," you smile, and he grins.

"Sorry," he chuckles, and gives you a kiss, and his lips are lingering, and his tongue is licking against yours, and his teeth are scraping against your bottom lip, and his hands are sliding over your back.

"The sauce is safe now," he whispers, his nose is brushing against yours and his hands are in your hair.

"Let’s put together the lasagne and put it in the oven, then we can make out some more," you suggest.

"That sounds like a good plan," he says.

"Yes, very good plan, I know," you chuckle, his body is warm against yours..

You're finishing the lasagne, putting it in the oven and Thomas is setting the timer.

“Now I want more kisses," he looks at you.

He's kissing and sucking at your neck, his hands are pushing your skirt up, his fingers are pulling down your panties.

"Thom, we should wait until the lasagne is done," you whisper and he groans.

"Just a few minutes, please," he pleads, his other hand is gripping your thigh, his fingers digging into your flesh.

"Okay," you moan, his thumb is circling your clit not leaving you room to think.

"Thank you," he breathes. “Bedroom, we have a timer anyways. We will hear it, and can continue."

You nod, his hand is gone, and you're stumbling towards the bedroom. Kissing on your way and his hands are sliding under your shirt.

“Oh, is this …” he laughs, “finally what I wished for? Candy hearts in your bra?"

"Maybe," you laugh.

"I love it," he says.

"I thought, since it's valentine's day, and the edible underwear was a bit out of my comfort zone, maybe that’s close enough for you? Or too much? It's weird isn't it, I'm sorry," you say, and he shakes his head.

"No, not weird, I love it, and I'm so glad you did that for me," he says, and pulls away from the kiss. "You know what else I wanted?"

"Tell me," you say.

"This," he says, and sneaks his hand in your bra, and takes one of the candy hearts, and his hand is moving up, and the little heart is touching your lips.

"Open," he says, and you open your mouth, and his hand is moving up, and the heart is in your mouth.

"Now, can I take off the bra?" He asks.

"Yes, go ahead, you can eat the rest of the candy," you laugh, and he's pulling the cup down, and taking a candy heart with his tongue and he's biting it, and then his mouth is on yours.

"Delicious," he chuckles, and his eyes are sparkling.

"Yes, very," you smile.

"You're delicious," he says, and his mouth is on yours, and the taste of the candy and the wine is still on his lips, and his tongue is licking against yours.

His lips are moving along your jaw, and to your neck, and his mouth is sucking and kissing at the crook of your neck.

He's lying down, and you're straddling him, and he's reaching for your bra, and pulls it off. His hands are cupping your breasts, and his mouth is on the valley of your breasts, and his tongue is licking along your sternum, and his teeth are grazing against your nipple.

He's sucking, and his teeth are pinching and his tongue is flicking over the sensitive bud, and you're gasping and moaning.

His mouth is moving to the other breast, and his lips are closing around your nipple, and his mouth is warm and his breath is hot against your skin. He's sucking and his teeth are grazing against your hardening nipple, and his hands are on your back, and they're sliding over your hips.

“I think some of the hearts fell out of the bra," he chuckles.

"I can look for them later," you laugh, and he laughs, and kisses you.

"Yes, we'll find them later, now, can I lick the rest off of your body?"

"Yes, please, and feel free to use your teeth too," you whisper, and his tongue is licking along your neck, and over your collarbones, and his tongue is moving over the swell of your breasts. His teeth are grazing against your nipples, and his lips are brushing against the underside of your breasts, and his hand is cupping the other, and his thumb is rubbing over your nipple, and his tongue is moving lower, and his teeth are biting and sucking.

“Found one,” he says and nibbles it off your stomach.

He's licking lower, and his tongue is sliding along the edge of your panties. His mouth is on the lace, and his tongue is licking along the damp material, and his teeth pulling back the waistband with his teeth.

“I think you missed one.” You pull his head back to your bellybutton.

"Oh, yes," he breathes, and his tongue is swirling, and he's sucking and his teeth are nipping, and the candy is gone.

His hand is cupping your pussy, and his thumb is stroking over your folds through the damp fabric.

"Can I have a taste?" He asks, and his breath is hot against the damp lace, and you're nodding.

"Yes, please."

His hands are pushing the panties aside, and his fingers are brushing along your slit, and he's pushing two fingers inside, and curling them.

He's spreading your legs, and his tongue is flicking over your clit, and he's pushing his fingers deeper, and curling them, and stroking against your g spot.

"You taste so good," he moans. “Better than the candy."

"Yes," you gasp.

"And you're so wet, and hot, and soft."

"Thom," you moan, and his tongue is lapping over your clit, and his teeth are grazing against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Come on my face, please," he moans, and his fingers are rubbing against your g spot, and his tongue is flicking against your clit, and his thumb is pressing down on the swollen bud.

"I'm almost there, don't stop," you moan.

"Good, come on my tongue," he growls, and his fingers are moving faster, and his tongue is licking over your clit. “Let me taste you."

"Yes, yes," you whimper.

"Yes, let me lick your sweet juices, come on," he moans, and his fingers are fucking you, and his tongue is stroking over your clit, and his eyes are fluttering open, and when he looks up at you, you’re tumbling over the edge, and your pussy is clenching around his fingers, and the wave of pleasure is crashing through you.

"Yes, that's it," he breathes. "I love it when you're coming on my face."

"I love it when you're licking me clean," you breathe.

He's laughing, and his mouth is sucking, and his tongue is licking, and he's swallowing your juices, and his tongue is licking into you.

“But now I would love to return the favour,” you’re pulling at his hair, “and taste you too."

He's groaning, and his eyes are shining, and his lips are curving into a smile.

"Yes, please, I would love that."

You're pushing him on his back, and he's lifting his hips, and pulling down his boxer briefs.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Touch me," he says.

"I am, but where do you want me to touch you," you say.

"Anywhere," he moans.

"What about here?" You run a finger over his hipbone.

"Yes," he whimpers.

"And here?" You lick his abs.

"God, yes," he moans.

"What about here?" You circle his cock.

"Yes, please."

"Here?" Your lips are wrapping around his cock, and your tongue is stroking over the crown.

"Fuck, yes," he groans.

"Where else, should I touch you?"

"On my thighs," he breathes.

"Okay," you say, and your fingers are stroking over his inner thigh, and your nails are dragging over the soft skin.

"There, please," he pants.

Your mouth is sinking down on his cock, and your tongue is swirling over the head.

"Yes, there, God, your mouth feels so good," he moans, and his fingers are in your hair.

Your fingers are stroking over his balls, and over his perineum, and his cock is pulsing in your mouth.

"There too," he whimpers.

You're circling his opening, and his hand is fisting your hair.

"Yes, there," he moans.

Your fingertip is circling his opening, and he's gasping and panting.

"Can I?"

"Yes, God yes," he says, and your finger is pressing into him, and your lips are sucking his cock, and his hips are pushing up.

"Fuck," he curses, and his hand is pulling you back down by your hair and his legs are shaking.

"Are you close?"

"Yes, keep going, I'm so close," he moans, and your finger is pumping into him, and your mouth is sinking down on his cock, and your tongue is flicking over the head, and his body is trembling.

"Faster, please," he begs, and your finger is curling, and his cock is pulsing, and his hips are thrusting, and his ass is clenching around your finger, and his cock is twitching and his cum is spilling over his belly, and his hand is tugging your hair.

"So good," he whispers.

"Good," you whisper, and his fingers are tracing along your cheek, and you're kissing his belly.

"We should get cleaned up," you say, and he's smiling and his hand is pulling you down for a kiss. “Shit, does it smell burnt in here? Shit, Thom, the lasagne."

"Shit, fuck," he says, and sits up, and gets off the bed, and pulls on his boxer briefs.

He's sprinting to the kitchen, and you're following him, and when he's opening the oven, there's a cloud of smoke coming out. And somehow a little baking paper inferno has formed, and you're not sure what happened, and it's smoking, and Thom is staring at it, and you're turning off the oven.

"I'm sorry, I think I left the baking tray I made pizza on yesterday in the oven, with the baking paper.”

“It’s fine, just open the window before the smoke alarm goes off and the fire brigade is your guest again.”

He opens the window, you put out the tiny flames, and the oven is full of black crumbs. But your lasagne is salvageable.

"It tastes amazing," you say, after the first bite.

"Yes, the sauce is so good," he says, and grins, and his foot is caressing your leg under the table. “Let’s sleep in tomorrow and just cuddle. Maybe we should start our own little tradition.”

“Okay,” you say looking curious.

“How about we make that day of the first fire alarm, when we talked to each other first, our day? Eat pancakes, talk, cuddle, almost burn down the house.

"That sounds perfect," you smile, and he smiles and kisses you.

……

Tag list: Taglist: @oro-e-diamanti, @iamtashaquinn, @teenyweenynightghost, @findaqueenwithoutaking, @foreveryking-thatdied, @findoutwhoyougonnacall , @sunlightbabe , @little-moonbeam-666 , @ethaneskin , @maneskin-dimensione , @l0standn0tf0und , @butkutee , @gr8rainbowpunk , @maneskintifoso , @hiraetheral , @imjustanerdwholikestoread , @cuzimitaliano , @hopelessromantic727 , @wonderlandishell , @paralianeyes , @que--sera--sera , @roisinlove123 , @romanoffswoman , @lovelyy-moonlight , @crwnnjules, @lizzylynch1 , @maneaterdoll, @imposter-27 , @soundscuntfeelscunt , @gaiagoddess26 , @lonnybunnys , @lexasaurs634 , @milfhunter889 , @shinshans

[pjisskullourful]

︵‿︵‿ ｈｕｍｐ  ｄａｙ ‿︵‿︵

🐫 Thomas × reader [The Gift part10]

NSFW🔥smuttastic playtime

° Thomas Raggi/non-binary reader insert

° your boyfriend is over-eager when he gets home from tour, leading you to put him in his place

wordcount:::       2,868

° commissioned by the wonderful, magnificent, genius that is jace (@wow-ihateithere)💋 some celebratory puppy time was much needed

° [ITA:]  cucciolo: puppy

You were always relieved when your Wednesday afternoon study group session wrapped up. You could stop working your brain and just be. It was a welcome break from concentrating.

But today you were extra glad to have that commitment behind you. Because your boyfriend had arrived home from tour while you were out. Knowing that you were one step closer to having Thomas in your arms made you genuinely excited.

Upcoming exams and assignments held no significance for you - instead you spent the bus-ride home just thinking about him. Would he be asleep when you got home? Or had he had too many Red Bulls and would he be bouncing off the walls? You wondered how his kisses would taste.

At first when you stepped through the front door and into your completely silent home, you assumed that he was asleep. So you didn’t call out, and you tried to keep quiet as you took your shoes off. You placed your bag down and headed in the direction of the bedroom.

As you got closer, a noise reached your ears. It was Thomas’ breathing, coming in hard and fast, as if he were recovering from a run.

Your confusion was cleared when a second sound came in to accompany his panting. It was a wet sound, something slick that was in motion.

You walked faster, needing to get to the bedroom sooner. You were unsurprised by the scene that you happened upon - Thomas sprawled out on the mattress, jeans and underwear around his knees as he held his erect dick in one hand. His head was thrown back and his eyes were squeezed shut as he persistently stroked the shaft.

It was pretty much a guarantee that you would have sex whenever he got home from any length of trip. But you hadn’t expected that it would happen straight away this time around. Nothing in his most recent messages had hinted at this horniness, you’d had no idea he was experiencing this level of desperation.

Before he could open his eyes and spot you, you gave the door a powerful shove, resulting in a pronounced slam. His motions came to an abrupt halt and his head snapped up, looking at you with very wide eyes. His face was filled with a bright pink blush and his mouth moved around words that were not yet formed.

You folded your arms across your flattened chest as you showed him an unimpressed expression. “Cucciolo…”

As quickly as possible he took his hand off of his cock. He grabbed for the bottom of the oversized hoodie that he wore, moving the sweater down to cover his erection. “Shit, sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d-... I was just really horny and-... I’m sorry.”

You slowly approached the bed, savouring his embarrassed squirming. “Oh, you will be. You’ll be very sorry, because now I have to punish you.” You saw him lick his lips. “I thought you knew better than to come without permission, ever.”

He sat up, his eagerness evident. “I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Well it’s a good thing that I got home when I did.” You said, stopping at the side of the bed. “On the ground now.”

He clumsily made his way off the bed, propping himself up on his knees beside where you stood. He looked exceptionally needy, with his hair a tousled mess and slight trembles running through him. “Should I get naked for you?”

“Take off your pants and underwear.” You instructed, keeping your tone firm, even as your own excitement rapidly grew. “But you can keep the hoodie on, it looks cute on my puppy.”

He scrambled to get out of the majority of his clothing, while you calmly undressed. You got completely naked, ditching your many items of clothing on the floor as he gazed up at you, entirely captivated.

You sat down at the edge of the bed, planting one of your feet on the floor. “Okay, here’s how this is going to go- you’re done touching yourself today, absolutely no more. I, on the other hand, will be touching myself. The only thing you’re going to do is hump yourself against my leg here, like the poor, pathetic puppy that you are. You’re not allowed to lay a single finger on me, because your only purpose is humping my leg. Any questions?”

“No.” He said, taking a break from nodding along to everything that you said.

“Can you tell me what colour your light is?” You asked, checking in with him before you got entirely invested in this scene.

He responded quickly. “Green, like, so fucking green.”

“Okay, you can start.” You told him.

He was no longer trying to hide his cock from you. His leaking tip was completely exposed as he walked on his knees, getting closer to you. He kept his hands to himself, but he rolled his hips towards you, not stopping until he made contact with your skin. He rocked back, then pushed forward again.

His mouth hung slightly open and as he stared at you, you wondered if there was a single thought in his head. His obedience never failed to turn you on and your cunt was moist by the time your fingers reached it.

You pushed down between your labia majora, your fingertips moving over your clit. You pulled your hand back up a little, wanting to play with your clitoral hood some more. His eyes followed this movement, watching how you rubbed your fingers on the hood, beginning to tap into your own desires. You could feel how hard his dick was as it grinded against your leg.

You could feel the tingles growing all throughout your body as you swirled your fingers over your clit a few more times. Then you left the hood to its excited pulsing as you moved your fingers lower, now seeking out your slicked entrance.

You ran your fingers up-and-down your slit a few times, wetting them with your cum. You filled your cunt with these two fingers, gliding in past your first and second knuckles. He remained your fascinated audience member, watching as you began pumping your fingers, stroking new sensitivities to life inside of you.

All the while, his hips kept crushing into your leg, with little whines beginning to fall from his lips as he kept rubbing. His obedience continued to be proven and you wondered how long you could keep him like this. He was probably happy and willing because his current movements were close enough to fucking to trick his brain. His motions were the same as if he were inside of you, as he was watching you being penetrated - it was all almost enough.

Watching him get by on these scraps only made you enjoy everything you were experiencing more. You were boastful in your pleasure, while he was looking at you with pure desperation in his eyes.

He had set into a tempo, his hips rolling to this hungry timing. As you watched him, you began to work your fingers to match him. When he picked up the pace, you did the same.

Your pussy had started to quiver around your fingers and each pump felt better than the last. The potential was clear and you wanted to get lost in it all. It was getting to be more than teasing and your patience wouldn’t hold for much longer.

Your gut tightened and you started to lift your ass from the mattress, investing yourself in this rhythm. You thrust your hips, still striving to mirror his speed as you started to ride your fingers.

Soon his noises weren’t the only sounds in the room, with your excited whimpers and gasps joining his whines. The impact of your fingers thrusting increased and you kept in motion, chasing that next level of pleasure.

You held your hand firm, the palm of your hand beginning to collide with your clitoral hood. It wasn’t as powerful as a spank to this area, but it still added more excitement.

Your fingers were squelching as you continued to work them, going in as deep as you could every time. Your nerves were on fire and you could feel how your walls had started spasming around your quick fingers.

You had quit trying to match his humping. You had gotten all that you could from it, now you were racing ahead of him, moving to the pace that your desire dictated.

You found that he had raised his head, no longer watching your fingers. Instead his eyes were now set on your face. He could probably tell just how close you were and that made you want to fall apart even more. Although it hadn’t been your plan, you thought now that there was no better way to welcome him home.

Your chest swelled up and your hips uncontrollably stuttered forward, driving you into a faster tempo. You genuinely couldn’t stop now, you were thrilled by the edge that you had brought yourself up to.

You whimpered as you rocked forward, no longer able to keep your eyes open. You could feel that the dam inside of you was starting to burst and you welcomed it all.

You slumped into your climax, becoming still as the afterglow dawned on you. You removed your messy fingers and started to catch your breath.

Amongst all of the other experiences playing out for you right now, you also took notice of the fact that your boyfriend was still humping. You acknowledged this without opening your eyes. “You can stop now, cucciolo.”

Also without opening your eyes, you extended your arm out, putting your wet fingers in his face. Instantly you heard him gasp, before his mouth encapsulated your fingertips. He started to lick and suck at your fingers, working his mouth all over to collect your cum.

You were still filled with tingles as you steadily blinked your eyes open. You lifted your head, wanting to watch him. And what you saw didn’t disappoint in the slightest. With his eyes shut, he was zealously lapping at your fingers as if they were the most delicious popsicle known to man. The look on his flushed face suggested that he was in his own state of bliss, it couldn’t have been as powerful as yours, but he was savouring it all the same.

You felt your heart melt at this sight, a delightful chaser to your orgasm. You were receiving the affirmation that his devotion to you was as intact as it had been before his departure.

You felt that he more than deserved affection, and you began to run your unoccupied fingers through his soft hair, taming the strands lazily. He opened his eyes, the warm hazel of his irises greeting you as he happily continued his thorough work. You couldn’t help but smile down at him, feeling in every fibre of your being how pleased you were to have him home.

When he emptied his mouth of your fingers, he wiped at his chin and failed to return your smile. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Sometimes a silly puppy just can’t help himself.” You said, adopting a much softer tone than before. “And that’s why we have punishments, isn’t it? So that you can learn your lesson and you did learn it, didn’t you?” Straight away he nodded. “And learning your lesson didn’t come at the cost of your boner, I see.”

He smiled sheepishly in response. “Yeah, well, you’re really sexy. That’s what got this whole thing started in the first place.”

You put your hands to his cheeks and drew him in for the first kiss, tasting a cigarette mixed with your cum. “No reason for that to go to waste.”

“You mean…?”

You moved towards the centre of the mattress. “Yeah, c’mon puppy, get a rubber and let’s do doggy.” You were giggling a little as you rolled onto your stomach.

It didn’t take long for him to join you on the bed, getting into position behind you. You lifted your ass into the air as you moved your knees forward, placing them beneath your hips. His hands eagerly took hold of your hips as he got closer, lining himself up. You braced yourself with your thighs parted and your back arched for him.

“No more punishing, no more lessons to be learned, let’s just fuck.” You declared.

“Fuck yes.” He whispered back.

Soon you were feeling his bony hips against your butt, and then his tip was pressing into your slicked pussy. You were conscious of the after-shocks of your orgasm as his head spread your puffy labia minora.

You bit into your lower lip, listening to how shallow his breathing had become as he inserted more-and-more of his length.

Once he was fully inside, he leaned down, his chest coming to rest against your back. He applied kisses to your neck, just behind your ear. This elicited shivers from you, your body already so receptive to him.

“I missed you so much.” He said, his breath tickling your skin.

You pushed back on him gently. “Show me, puppy.”

He wrapped an arm around your waist and thrusted into you, his cock plunging between your sensitive walls. You wiggled your ass against him, savouring this far superior feeling of being filled by him. He worked his hips some more and you grabbed for the bedsheets as your anticipation mounted.

He found the greatest range of movement when he straightened up. And he instantly set about taking advantage of this - his thrusts coming in quicker and smoother. He was finally able to hump you properly, setting into the optimum pace.

Everything accelerated from here, with him adopting an unrelenting tempo to drive into you. Your hands gripped the sheet harder and the sound of his laboured breathing filled your ears, an occasional whine added to the mix.

You kept working your hips, meeting every one of his rocks. You weren’t sure how long you would be able to last, with your body given next to no time to come down from the intensity of your solo climax. The sensitivities continued to grip you, running the show.

You moaned and buried your face in the bed as he gained speed, his reckless jackhammering hitting harder. Your tensed body moved with him as you pursued your mutual goal.

“Please puppy, don’t stop.” You rasped. “Feels so fuckin’ good.”

“Unh, unh, uh.” He could only gasp in response.

He got faster, his cock desperately stroking against your aching walls. All of the sensations were like a series of grand fireworks, almost enough to overwhelm your brain.

He let out a loud whimper on his next plunge forward. Then it seemed like everything was frozen for a moment when he didn’t rock back.

When he did get his hips moving again, it wasn’t as smooth as before. He moved through the bumpy fucking and your cunt continued to hug him. There wasn’t much of a chance for you to adjust to this unpredictable rhythm, but your desires were fed by the ongoing motions.

Two quick bucks into you were accompanied by him crying your name out. Then everything stopped again. But it wasn’t like the previous frozen sensation, now you got the sense that something had snapped.

You smiled as you lifted your head. “Is my puppy coming already?”

“Yea-yes.” He responded in a small voice.

“Aw, so soon?” You asked as his hips spasmed against your ass of their own accord. “You’re just the most excited puppy in the world, aren’t ya?” You grinded back into him. “You couldn’t wait to come for me, hm?”

“No, couldn’t wait.”

You began to work your hips again, timing your bucks to the next words that you said. “My little over-excited puppy.”

He held onto your hips as you set into your own tempo, moving as best suited your heightened state. You pushed against him, licking your lips as his dick massaged your tender walls.

With one last powerful thrust, your satisfaction was secured and you writhed into a second orgasm. You were overwhelmed with bliss as the tension snapped for you too.

You were shaky as you separated from him, lowering your body and finding a comfortable position to lay down. You were smiling, still enjoying the giddy tingles that he had brought into your day.

You noticed that his hair had gotten all messed up again as he laid down with you. As he steadily caught his breath, you wrapped your arms around him, because you were craving closeness.

You began to kiss him, feeling greedy and as if you had to make up for all the intimacy missed out on. As he kissed you back, his calloused fingers caressed your cheek. This was everything that you hadn’t realised you had been missing. You were feeling more than just the relief of getting to the end of an in-depth study session and a long day - this was a feeling of being complete.

You were smiling as the kiss ended and you rubbed the tip of your nose against his, because it was simply too cute to resist doing so. “Welcome home, silly puppy.”

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[filthforfriends]

Lighthouse

Thomas x gender neutral reader

Word count: 3.6k

TW: This is based on an ask I got over a year ago for a Thomas fic where reader is triggered by people yelling and he calms them down. Mentions of probable domestic abuse and vague implications of childhood abuse, neither necessarily physical.

Canvas bag in your left, Thomas’ hand in your right, the crisp spring air was maddening in that it made your nose cold and absolutely nothing else. Today was the first farmers market this year, more trinkets than produce because very little was ripe. Thomas wore a beanie to avoid being recognized, but got so annoyed with the thing that he took it off before you’d even exited the train. Now it was a bulge in his jacket pocket, taunting you with the possibility of falling onto the stale city street.

It was nice to have these as your day’s worries: skin bitten by the cold breeze, the lack of seasonal vegetables, a lost hat. There’d been a time when you prayed for the mundane, for stupid arguments over socks on the living room floor or the last cup of coffee already drunk. Socks could be washed and more coffee made. The problem with a broken home is that the pieces never quite fit back together. Too sharp.

“Hey.” Thomas shoulder checks you, using your intertwined hands to prevent tripping. He’s gotten good at spotting when your thoughts start circling the drain.

“Hey, sorry,” you huff, remembering to breathe.

“Don't apologize.” He kisses the top of your head, dramatically swinging your arms as a distraction. Because of the foot in height difference he’s jerking you around a bit. It’s annoying and very effective at getting you mentally unstuck.

“Okay, okay.” You smile, and instead of calling that a victory, Thomas starts walking backwards, tugging some more.

“I’m gonna trip and die or you’re gonna trip and die.”

“Such a pessimist,” he complains, with a theatrical eye roll. Tommy stops walking and you run into him, but it's purposeful. He’s ready for the forward momentum and drops your hand to wrap you in a hug. 

“It's inconvenient, how good you’ve become at reading my facial expressions,” you mumble into his jacket, zipper pressing into your cheek.

“And you can tell when I’m hungry when I can’t tell that I’m hungry.” 

“Mind reading is a cooler super power than being a hunger meter.”

“Mm mm, I disagree.” He loosens his arms so you can pull back and see each other.

“You’d look damn good in a cape though.” Tommy has this special smile that's exclusive to your compliments. He doesn’t worry that the adorable soft spot under his chin turns into a roll. His nose scrunches, revealing the minor asymmetries of his perfect mouth. Thomas had a tooth pulled on the right side at age 11, so only the left side is slightly crowded. In moments of intense passion you liked to lick where his canine overlapped with the tooth behind it. He never quite understood that.

“Well, I can’t argue with facts,” he shrugs, grabbing your hand and leading you towards the station. 

“Maybe they’ll have a cape vendor next week!” From then on, things are light hearted, because he's so good at that. The train is mostly empty, which somehow makes the plastic seating marginally less uncomfortable. Thomas takes a piece of gum out of your purse, laughing at the collection of accidently stolen pens bearing the insignia of various offices. Before he can crumple the wrapper, you take it and the Central Manhattan Dentistry pen to make a sketch of Thomas. He strikes a philosophical pose and you use your knee cap as a table for seven stops. 

“You need to pick a pose you can hold.”

“I can hold this,” he insists, chin in the deep between his thumb and pointer finger. He starts regretting it at stop two, but doesn’t admit defeat until stop five. Of course the drawing is horrible, but efforts to throw it away are met with progressively more zealous insistence from Thomas that the piece be displayed in custom framing. Through all the squabbling, the wrapper gets torn accidentally. Automatically, you brace for the fallout.

“Aww! You’ll have to draw me another one next week,” he laughs, rubbing your arm affectionately, lips to temple. It was his Everything Is Okay kiss, his You Didn’t Mess Up At All kiss, his I’m Not Mad At You Baby kiss, his I’m Never Gonna Yell kiss. 

“You know, I was thinking we should finish the ciabatta loaf today, before it goes stale. Your mint plant has been looking really good. I read this new technique where you turn the pot a quarter every week so the sun…” The gum wrapper flutters to the floor as you stand to get off, all of it forgotten.

Three blocks away from your second home and you realize it's gonna be one of those days. One of those days where your mind and the world collaborate to make you dust off every single coping mechanism in your repertoire. On the opposite side of the street a group of five wearing NYU swag are captivated by the epic row between similarly aged romantic partners. A man and a woman screaming with both windows open.

“Who the fuck doesn’t have the decency to close their windows?” This question is promptly answered, as the woman launches a speaker out of the second story window. Thomas stops to watch with his mouth agape, enthralled. On the other side of the street, you may be safe from shrapnel, but those college kids are taking chances with their proximity. What if one of them got hurt? Who would take them to the hospital? Which hospital? Would you have to call 911? Would they get mad at you for calling 911? What if the disbatcher fucks up and the ambulence never comes?

“You fucking bitch, this is the kind of shit that makes me want to wring your neck!”

“Oh yeah, threaten me, baby,” she replies with heavy sarcasm, bending over to push something towards the window. The man lunges in her direction. He’s going to slap her. He’s just picking something up. It's a toaster. He’s gonna bludgeon her with the toaster. No he’s throwing it out the window. This one lands on a car and the alarm begins blaring.

“Holy shit, this is like reality TV in real life,” Thomas chuckles. 

“I don’t want to threaten you! I don’t want to be that guy! But you make me into that guy!” You make me.

“I’M NOT FUCKING SCARED OF YOU,” she screams, hysterically trying to convince herself of this fact. She was terrified and sent a second speaker out the window. This one lands differently. Instead of a thud, you can hear it break into pieces as soon as it hits the cement. She has to get out of there. They’re both wasted, but she's belligerent and slurring. 

“I don’t want you to be scared of me, you crazy bitch! I deserve respect, as the man of the house!” he bellows. You shudder violently, because that sentence is way too familiar. 

“I already called the police so shut the fuck up!” screams someone from the unit directly behind you. This time you startle so severely that your feet leave the ground for a moment. The man throws the microwave out of the window and the glass tray inside breaks. The sound of glass breaking always made you nauseous, but you couldn’t move. Couldn’t even blink.

“Yeah? And what the fuck do you think the police are going to do!? Fucking NOTHING.” Her voice is guttural, rubbed raw and trashed. You can taste the copper in your mouth, just like you know she can. Blood diluted by spit from screaming. 

“Get out. Get out! GET THE FUCK OUT,” she wails, nearly falling over as she points to the window.

“This is my apartment. I pay for ALL of this shit!” There's that male rage again, its only purpose is to create subservience out of fear. Compliance from children who just want the sound to stop, whose insides get twisted up everytime their caretaker uses fear as a means to an end and then calls that love. Children who grow up damaged because they were taught that the world is scary and ruthless and unfeeling. 

If you hadn’t been in the midst of a flashback, your reflexes would have been better. Plates, glasses, mugs, the sounds of these breaking were your biggest triggers, the thing you just couldn’t defeat. When the woman pours a half-packed cardboard box out of the window, you can’t get your hands over your ears fast enough. It’s all kitchenware and at least half a dozen plates have shattered on the pavement by the time you’ve muffled the sound.

“No, no, no, no, no, no. No! No, no! STOP!” Someone was screaming, but not the woman in the second story apartment. It was your mother’s voice, or maybe your sister’s. They didn’t even live in this state, what the hell were they doing here? You can feel yourself being shaken, and only then realize that you’re in the dark.

“Y/n? Y/n? Y/n, amour, amour, tell me what's happening. Tesorina, do you need me to – should I, um, do I call…I don't know. I don’t know how to help. I should and I don’t. Fuck.” Finally you’re aware that the voice is speaking to you directly and open your eyes. Tommy is alarmed, bordering on panic. Finally the connection is made: you were the one screaming. Seeing his face brings the present into focus. He’s sitting on the ground which is why you’re crouched over. Or rather the cause and effect is the other way around.

One artichoke is on top of the storm drain, canvas bag crumpled beside you. The blown glass guitar Thomas had purchased and entrusted you to carry is shattered beyond repair. That metaphor and the public embarrassment, is what finally brings you to tears. 

“I br – bro – oke it. ‘M s – sorry.” Thomas looks absolutely mystified until he follows your line of sight. Hands still clamped over your ears, it sounds like you’re speaking underwater.

“Oh my god, tesorina, I don’t care. What can I do?”

“Home,” you squeak, vision blurred. 

“Of course.” Thomas takes the bag and letting him pull it from your arm means briefly uncovering your ear. The couple are now whisper-yelling, sparing glances in your direction. Bucklist item achieved: screaming at someone to stop shouting and they actually stop shouting. The first step forward, a piece of the broken guitar shatters under your boot.

“I ruined it,” you manage to blurt, before giving into a gasping sob.

“It doesn’t matter, tesorina.” Little treasure. Thomas reaches out and you snatch your hand away without thinking. Betrayal. He hides it at an impressive speed, but it's there.

“I’m s –ss – sorry. Ruined it,” you sob. “I – everything, I ju –just –”

“It’s a piece of glass,” he whispers. “I love you and it's just a piece of glass. It’s a thing, y/n.” Slowly, you reach forward, and Tommy meticulously laces his fingers with yours, one at a time. When your hands are clasped his thumb brushes back and forth, soothing.  

You never look up from the stained pavement, not once, even during a busy intersection. You can’t tell if you’re crying because you can’t feel your face. No words are spoken, but Thomas’ anxiety radiates from every pore. You stumble behind him, led by the hand, stomach in your throat as you free fall into a storming chasm of childhood memories. On the fourth stair you trip and land on all fours, so Thomas leads you to the elevator instead.

“Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself? Y/n?” You stare at the upholstered wall. Chocolate brown with tan line work weaving in and out of itself. You count every time the lines cross. At 36 something touches your back. You wrench away from it and whip around. Thomas is holding the elevator open with one hand because this is his floor. The other hand had tried to gently guide you.

The heavy front door slams shut. That sound hasn’t made you jump for months, but today it prompts a sharp inhale that has you choking on your own spit.

“Tesorina, are you okay? Are you okay?” The carpet had been freshly cleaned, but the cigarette mark burned into the cream-colored fibers remained. Vision blurring out of focus, you remind yourself that these feelings are from a past life. You no longer inhabit a space where they’re true. Movement in your peripheral makes you blink hard to clear the tears from your eyes. It’s Thomas, crawling across the floor. He kneels at your feet to meet your downturned eyes. He waits. 

He weeps. Tries not to, but ends up having to wipe his eyes roughly. Tommy is visibly sickened by the magnitude of his empathy. He feels what you feel, and knowing how unbearable that is, you reach a hand out to cup his face. He places his hand over yours, brings it to his lips. Tommy kisses every finger tip, every knuckle, then palm, wrist, forearm. At seven years old, you’d watched your mother get “Corinthians 1:13” tattooed in the same place after an AA meeting. She repeated that verse to you like building a shield. Looking into your boyfriend’s face now, you understand that it was never about religion.

Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful;  it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

You collapse into his arms and he catches you. Instead of letting you hide against his neck, Tommy presses his forehead to yours.

“Nothing bad is going to happen if you look at me,” he whispers. The habit was totally subconscious and you met his gaze. 

“Hey, here,” he hands you a paper towel. Gracelessly, you blow your nose. The velcro on the sleeve of your jacket scratches so you take that off. Usually Tommy would help, but he’d taken his hands away as soon as you were stable and was sitting on them. For some reason that makes you cry again. At first it’s a couple tears and then you burst into ugly sobs, hands hiding your face.

“Y/n can you nod yes or no?” You nod and Thomas lets out a long sigh. “Do you understand that I’m not mad at all?” Nod. Deep breath. Shaky exhale. Sob.

“Repeat,” you croak.

“Okay. I’m not mad at you about anything, past, present, or future. There is no anger in my body.”

“Annoyed?” You take a shuddering breath to calm down, able to stop the tears.

“I am not annoyed at all either. No negative emotions directed at you.” You nod and peak through your fingers. Tommy's eyes are so damn earnest. 

“No negative emotions directed at you,” he repeats. “I’m not gonna slam the door.” You nod, fighting the wave of suffocating anxiety from the mere suggestion. “I’m not going to break something or yell.” Back to sobbing, and now you’re choking on your own hair. “Shit, I’m sorry.” It was too close to home, but hearing the words would make breathing easier if not for the tears.

“Hug me,” you manage. Thomas slowly wraps you in a loose embrace. He’s leaning way forward, so your torsos aren’t touching. You climb onto his lap and squeeze, demonstrating what kind of hug you want. He sighs in relief and properly holds you. 

“Can I rub your back?” Nod. His right hand runs up and down, applying  light pressure. Seated sideways, you lean your head on his shoulder; hiccups, but no waterworks. Tommy’s Adam's Apple bobs when he swallows hard. He nicked himself shaving this morning. 

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am. This is my fault.” Just from his voice, you can hear that Tommy is also trying not to cry. “I know your history, but I just stood there and like, watched the worst trigger imaginable.”

“It's not your fault.”

“I should have gotten you away from there as quickly as possible, not stood to watch like a…” the self-disgust in his voice is palpable. “Piece of shit.”

“Thomas!”

“I’m not saying it was my fault, but I could have prevented it.” He lets out an uneasy, heavy sigh. This was way too much to navigate right now. Disagreeing would cause conflict and conflict would cause –

“Woah, breathe, baby, breathe.” Tommy rocks back and forth. “You’ve done nothing wrong and I’m just really sorry.” You scoff.

“I had a full fledged meltdown in front of everyone. Then I broke the sculpture.”

“I swear to god, if you mention that sculpture one more time.” Even with his voice void of malice, the blood in your veins turns to ice water. “I don’t care about the sculpture, I care about – Wait, no, no, no, that's not how I meant to phrase that at all. I care about you, not the glass thing, that doesn’t matter. God damn it Tom,” he groans, head tilted back. “Please breathe, amour,” he pleads as you shiver. 

“You lied. You are mad.” You get up. With tightly balled into fists, you walk to the sink. Rinsing your face doesn’t help and how he’s seen your hands shaking. You grip the counter and scrunch your eyes closed. How much anger had he buried and when was the reckoning? Would there be any warning? You couldn’t live your life bracing for it.

“Thomas, just get it over with.” You set your jaw, determined to stop the tears for good.

“Get over what?” he asks, standing up.

“Just fight with me now.”

“I just don't want to fight with you.”

“Just yell at me now and get it over with!” What was meant to be stern comes out as a scream, the same kind of scream the woman three blocks up used. Somehow the sound was still bottled up inside you, all these years later.

“Mia vita, I am not going to yell at you. I have never yelled at you.” You roll your eyes at his idealism, that hardened exterior that kept you alive going up.

“In every relationship people yell at eachother. Eventually you were going to yell at me. So just do it now.”

“Over a piece of glass? C’mon, we know this isn’t really about that. ”

“I’m. Not. Crazy.”

“Of course not.” He’s wide eyed and vulnerable, no defensiveness. “I didn’t mean to imply that, but maybe I did and I’m really, really sorry.” Taken aback, you wait for the rest of it.

“I know what anger sounds like, Thomas.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I should have watched my words and compartmentalized.” His tone of voice remains soft, regardless of your escalation. Again, you wait.

“If you loved me, you wouldn’t do this,” you snap. It feels like your heart is being squeezed in your father’s fist. Thomas is taken aback.

“Amour, I don’t understand,” he chokes, suddenly desperate.

“You wouldn’t make me wait and wonder when it's gonna happen, live in fear of when you’re going to snap!” The words fall to the floor with the same weight as stereo speakers out of a second story window. They just lay there on the kitchen tile, ugly and mangled. You’d like to clean them up before the grout is stained red, but don’t have the right supplies. Now you’ll have to get a carpet to hide the stains, or fabricate a perfectly anecdotal lie for house guests, or remodel the kitchen. 

Thomas pulls a bar stool out from under the island, carrying it so the legs don’t scuff against the floor. He sits down gingerly.

“Will you come here, please?” Deciding that Thomas isn’t the type to set traps, you walk over. Standing between his parted legs, you’re the same height.

“Look at me,” he murmurs. You meet his eyes and find no aggression, just his gentle demeanor. Tommy extends a hand, asking you to take it. He puts your palm against his heart and that iron clad exterior falls away. 

“I am upset with the situation, not you. I am upset at those people who made their relationship the whole neighborhood’s problem. I’m upset at myself for handling it poorly. I’m upset that none of the adults in your childhood acted like adults and now you have to suffer. I am not upset with you. I do not care about a piece of glass. I do not care if the whole neighborhood thinks I’m dating a crazy person. You are my crazy person and I love you.” What a relief it is to believe him.

“Shit, I’m so sorry –”

“No.”

“No?”

“You don’t get to apologize about this.”

“But in the elevator I –”

“Nope.”

“The artichoke.”

“Errr,” Tommy makes a sound like a game show buzzer.

“I had a full mental breakdown in public.”

“And?”

“I’m sorr–” He interrupts by loudly shushing you. “The snot!”

“Approval pending.”

“Okay, but for real, I’m sorry for screaming at you. I don’t know where that came from. Well, actually I do. I just didn’t know that it was so close to the surface.”

“Apology accepted,” he hums, wrapping an arm around your waist. You startle and Thomas begins to pull away, but you stop him. 

“I’m going to be jumpy for a while, but that doesn’t mean don’t touch me.”

“I hate that you’re scared of me,” he whispers.

“I’m not scared of you. It's a memory.” As soon as your hands touch his face, Tommy’s eyelids close with heaviness. He’s not expecting the kiss. The skin of your lips sticks together, tacky from tears and saliva.

“You are my lighthouse.”

Notes: Well wasn't that some nice light reading! I am an attention whore so feel free to give me feedback.

-XOXO Eden

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[till-you-scream-and-cry]

Smell of Peaches

Pairing: Thomas x Fem!Reader 

summary: you’re spending a nice day on helping your friend Thomas with some gardening, and it’s better than you initially thought it will be

word count: 1.5k

contents: smut

Måsterlist | tåglist | my chapter story

‘I desperately need you.

The message from Thomas was short but enough to make you blush. You grabbed your phone and sent smirk emoji. He replied immediately.

‘come over, please’.

It didn’t take you long, a quick shower, change of clothes and you were on your way. You wondered how pathetic your behaviour is, how easy it is for him to summon you.

For the past few days, you kept wondering if he remembered. Because you kept replaying that long, hot night you spent together, where he mindlessly kept teasing your thigh on the couch, both of you very drunk and in a giggly mood. You wondered if he remembered how his fingers slowly moved towards your panties, how you spread your legs, letting him touch the soaked material in the middle. You wondered if he remembered your gasp when his finger slipped inside because you surely had in mind the devilish grin which appeared on his face. Sadly you were interrupted by someone who barged into the room, just when things started getting interesting. 

You rang the doorbell, and seconds after you saw Vic, half-dressed, in the process of buttoning up her shirt.

“Oh…hey you.” She said with a smile.

“Hi…Sorry, Thomas invited me, am I interrupting?” You asked, looking her up and down.

“No, no, come in, please. We’re leaving but Thomas is staying home.”

“Apparently I’m not invited,” Thomas said, appearing out of nowhere, dressed only in his blue shorts, his chest glistening from sweat. He smiled at you.

“Hey” You smiled back. “Why aren’t you invited?” You asked, Vic scoffed in response.

“Tell her.” She threw.

“Well seems like I offended the host.” Thomas folded his arms on his chest.

“Oh no…” You mumbled.

“Yeah, maybe I made a comment about her bad singing a bit too loudly…” 

“Are you kidding me?! You said she was completely off the key, two minutes after she announced the start of her music career and presented her first song to us.” Vic growled, still mad at him. 

“Oh come on, you've heard that atrocity! And Ethan said I was right!” Thomas yelled, and you couldn’t hold back a grin.

“Yes, but he did that in private, not in her face.” Vic shook her head and sent you a look of disbelief before running upstairs to get her missing garments. 

“Well anyways, she’s still mad so I’m not going.” Thomas sighed and put both hands on his hips. You tried your best not to look at his slightly too-tight shorts.

“You said you needed me? Your message sounded urgent.” You asked with racing heart.

“Oh yes, come with me.” He led you outside to the garden, all the way to the back, where the peach trees grew.

“What exactly…” You started but he interrupted you.

“Damiano yelled at me yesterday that it’s my turn to take care of the garden, and since it’s awfully boring I wanted you to come over and at least hang out with me while I do it.” He said with a slight pout.

“Oh, I see…” You tried your best not to sound disappointed. 

“You’re always fun to be around, I hope you’re not mad.” He sent you a look which made your knees weak. 

“Of course, I’m not mad, what do you need me to do?” You sent him a reassuring smile. 

Moments later Thomas climbed the ladder and started collecting the peaches, putting them in the big basket you were holding. At least you could stare at his body all you wanted without looking suspicious. 

“Oh, shit…” He mumbled and dropped one fruit on the ground. “Sorry, I got dizzy.” He mumbled.

“Well get down and have some water, of course, you got dizzy from the constant looking up.” You handed him a bottle and pushed his hair away from his sweaty forehead once he was sat on the ground. “ Maybe we can switch for a bit?” You asked with a smile, pressing a hand to his red cheek. He nodded.

After he got some rest, you climbed the ladder and started picking the peaches. You tried to reach one which was pretty high when the ladder shook.

“Fuck…” You mumbled. 

“I got you,” Thomas said, gripping you by your thighs to hold you steady.

“Thanks.” You mumbled, distracted by his touch.

You kept picking the fruits, but feeling his eyes on your legs was hard to ignore. His grip loosened a little. Suddenly you felt his fingers slowly tracing circles on your thigh. You put all your energy into controlling your shaky breathing. 

“You’re so soft…” He mumbled and looked up at you. 

One glance at his face, pink cheeks, hooded eyes and a subtle smirk was enough to know what was on his mind all along. He pressed a soft, wet kiss to your thigh and kept moving his fingers up. You instinctively parted your legs a little, giving him enough room to slip his hand under your skirt.  His long fingers started teasing your folds over the thin yet already damp material of your panties. You sighed loudly and rest your forehead against the tree. 

“Is someone enjoying the gardening?” He purred while pulling the material aside.

“Mhm…maybe a little.” You mumbled.

“We barely started, cucciola.” He brushed your clit with his finger, making you moan. “And this time I won’t stop even if someone comes in,” he said with a stern voice and slipped his two fingers inside your soaked pussy.

You whined loudly, not paying attention to your surrounding. He remembered, fuck he really did. You mindlessly clenched your hand in a fist, squeezing the peach you were holding. Its sweet juice started dripping down your hand, some landed on Thomas. He grinned and started pumping his fingers in and out, making you impatient and greedy for more. 

“Thomas!” You’ve heard Damiano’s voice.

“Yeah?” He asked, not stopping his movements for a moment. You covered your mouth with your hand. He couldn’t really see you from this far, but he could certainly hear you.

“We’re leaving now. We’ll be back late.” Damiano said, his voice followed by the clicking of the lighter. 

“Have fun!” Thomas said, at the same time sliding his third finger into you. You bit your fist and looked down at him.

“Please…I can’t…” You whined. 

Thomas peeked from behind the tree and made sure they were gone. He pulled out his fingers and grabbed you by your hips to put you on the ground. He did not wait, but cupped your face and kissed you passionately, leaving you breathless. He slid his hands down and pushed you against the tree. His lips were once again on yours, his hands slowly massaging your breasts, making you whine.

“You want some more?” He asked with a smirk. You nodded eagerly.

Thomas kissed you once again, grabbed your hips and turned you around. You placed your hands on both sides of the tree. He kicked your legs apart. The sound of the material of his shorts told you exactly what he was doing, without looking. He lifted your skirt and gave your ass a light smack, before pulling the material of your panties aside. You kept breathing fast, shaking from lust. He pushed in slowly, with a low grunt, keeping one of his hands on your hip.

“So wet…you were waiting for it, hmm?” He mumbled but didn't give you a chance to respond.

He started thrusting faster, desperately chasing his own release. You kept getting louder, his moans were only spurring you on. Your ass was bouncing against him, his both hands now griping your hips, slamming you on his cock faster. He picked up his pace, even more, his breathing became sharp, and you felt that you were getting close yourself. You both came with a loud moan, riding out your orgasms and all the pent-up frustration you had. You clenched around his twitching cock, letting him fill you up. Once you both came down a little, he slipped out and turned you around to face him. 

“I told you that I needed you desperately…” He said in a breathy voice, his eyes were shiny.

“Oh yeah, I think I know why.” You mumbled, feeling his cum dripping out of you. 

Thomas wrapped his hands around your waist, pulled you closer and kissed you slowly. He hummed and gently brushed your cheek, looking at you as if you were the most fascinating thing on the planet.

“You smell of peaches…and you’re just as sweet.”

*** 

tåglist: 

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[capuletoo]

Blue Valentine — Thomas Raggi

—note: it’s been so since i wrote something for måneskin…please please request something because i wanna write for them but have no ideas

—TW: stealing hehe, fluff | thomas raggi x fem!reader

—summary: After a party the reader meets a boy with a motorcycle

—words: 1.3k

THE WORDS IN ITALICS ARE LYRICS OF THE SONG ‘BETWEEN THE BARS’ BY ELLIOTT SMITH

You end up leaving with regret. You don't want to go back to the party. In addition, the effects of alcohol are beginning to dissipate: You tremble with cold and your head throws you atrociously. Arms crossed in a vain attempt to comfort and venture randomly into the street. There are not even cats, it seems that you are alone. Footsteps resonate in silence.

“Drink up baby,

stay up all night with the things you could do,

you won't but you might…”

You take the opportunity to sing, just to warm up.

“The potential you be that you never see,

the promises you'll only make. Drink up one more time,

and forget all about the pressure of days.

Do what I say and I'll make you okay,

I'll drive away the images stuck in your head…”

The coolness of the street and the dull noise of cars in the distance take a weight off your shoulders. You feel strangely lighter. Maybe because you are far away from the party, or perhaps because you're disappointed.

“People you've been before that you don't want around anymore…” A second voice is added to yours. “They push each other and won't bend to your will, I'll keep them still.”

The voice is clear and suave. You immediately turn around to see a slender silhouette wedged against a black motorcycle a few metres away. Same black shirt that reads joy division same face. He's the boy with the red chipped guitar

“You have a pretty voice” he compliments. “Why didn't you go on stage earlier?”

“I don't sing in public.” You bite your lower lip, unsure of his intentions. After all, you don't know him.

“It's a shame.” He detaches himself from the machine and advances nonchalantly a few steps, hands in his pockets.

“I didn't hear you with the noise there was,” you said.

“I know, it was hell, we couldn't play.” You remembered how his bandmates were angry at everyone, voices louder than the strings of the guitar, the bass.

“Are there many of you?” You say, trying to convince him that you didn't really pay attention to the small improvised stage, but you remembered every face that was up there with him.

“Yeah, I have bandmates”

“Oh, so you're a real artist?” He smiles and seems to understand a joke that escapes.

“Not you?” It's your turn to smile.

“ It´s not my field.”

“I would say that…” He tilts his head and pretends to think. “Are you writing?”

You nod your head and then sniff. The freshness is starting to feel serious, if you don't go home soon, you'll get cold. “What betrayed me?”

“I don't know, I guessed it as soon as I saw you.” He says and glances back at his motorcycle. “How do you get home?” He asks without giving up his half-smile, a child's smile.

A sigh leaves your lips. “I'm supposed to spend the night with a friend, my father is coming to pick me up in the morning” a tone so bleak that he raises his eyebrows.

“Did you leave the party early?”

“I was fed up.” You rub the floor with the tip of your boot. “It's only one o'clock in the morning.”

Your gazes meet, and you can already tell the next question he's about to ask, and you already know the answer you would give him.

“Do you want to go for a ride?

[...]

The wind caressed your cheek and dragged the scent of his jacket. A fragrance, both intriguing and luxurious, you could recognize the notes of wood.

As you held him by the waist, the engine roared to life, and the motorcycle surged forward , carrying you both into the night. The cool breeze whipped against your face, ruffling your hair and awakening your senses. The city lights straked past, creating a blur of colors.

On his back you could feel the vibrations of the mototcycle beneath you, the ehythmic rumble resonating through your body. It was a thrilling sensation. Yet, being with him, it felt oddly liberating.

Your breath feels upside down, it makes you forget that you have no idea where he is taking you, forget that you don't know the time he will bring you back. Everything is fine, for the moment. You want to laugh, dance and sing. The feeling of speed reminds you of cycling without hands when you were younger.

When we descend, the stars are reflected on the river that runs along Verona. Thomas - that's his name - takes a bottle of white wine out of the trunk of his motorcycle. So you walk in the cool night, bottle in hand. He doesn't think about the small size for a wine or the fact that you don't drink. He doesn't tease you, he's not heavy like all the others are. He drinks quietly, from time to time, observes and listens and you imitate him.

Most of the noise comes from the nearby cafes and bars.

He proposes that we rent a boat to cross the river. I accept but warn him that you don't know how to swim. He makes no remarks, he is not surprised. And even if you knew how to, you doubt that there will be people renting at this hour.

“I will save you if you fall, " he just answers by catching the oars on each side of the gondola. There’s no one there. You can’t help the feeling of stealing.

So you sail on the shore. The noise of the city fades and the crickets are singing. Fireflies appear. They form dozens of small lights that are all reflected in Thomas' eyes. His eyes whose intensity is close to the abyss. You don't see the end. It's beautiful, it's undeniable.

He is calm too, and his half smile is similar to that of a child. You have never seen anyone like this boy before. His smell embalmed the air again and you want to fill your lungs with it. He is still stoned, which dilates his pupils in an exaggerated way. He begins to hum a melody and the sound of his voice transports you elsewhere.

“Are you writing song right now?” He asks suddenly.

“It happens sometimes” You said, keeping your eyes closed.

“Give me a title you wrote.” His voice is getting closer.

“Blue Valentine.”

“I love it” His breath is mentholated and your eyelids remain closed. “What is it about?”

Now you feel him distinctly, his smell. It surrounds you like a halo, you bathe right in it: you are in Paradise. And the sound of his voice, it is almost made up of material, you can almost feel it.

“From a slightly chaotic girl. Of a love that is not enough.” You refuse to open your eyes, you don't know why, you have the impression that they are welded. His face on yours. A warm breath hugs your cheeks. You feel it very close, very close.

“And what is the last verse?” He moves his lips while talking, and touches yours.

“The bread will be my redemption.” His lips gently and voluptuously crush on yours. You can feel a smile and wonder if it's about the kiss or if he's making fun of the last verse.

An electric current runs through and gently ignites. His lips are delicately sweet. The contact does not last more than a second but it is enough to turn your head. Colors dance under your eyelids, his mouth is like two petals. He marries mine perfectly. So perfect that it's almost unreal.

Your eyes are open: he is only a few centimeters from you and his look is so intense that you feel something melting. His face is too perfect, he's too close, you are going to erupt. His blonde locks, his smell is too stunning, even his Adam's apple seems to make you look.

Without a word, Thomas leans in once again, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. The world around you fades away as you lose yourself in the electric embrace. It feels like a spark igniting a fire within you, a rush of emotions surging through your veins.

As the kiss lingers, you feel a warmth spreading throughout your body. It's not just the physical contact but also the emotional connection that seems to be growing stronger with each passing second. In this moment, you forget about the regrets and disappointments of the party.

When you finally break apart, a sense of exhilaration and wonder lingers in the air. You both catch your breath, your eyes locked in a gaze that speaks volumes. The electric energy continues to crackle between you, fueling an unspoken desire for more.

Who is this boy and what is he doing? You look at each other like this for several seconds that seem endless. And finally you put a word about the sensation that passes through you: electric.

[cherry-velvet-skies]

Sleepy Stitches

Thomas Raggi × GN!Reader

Genre: Fluff (maybe a sprinkle of Angst? idk)

Warnings: Mentions of needles (they're embroidery needles, but they're still needles 😅), brief mention of smoking

Words: 2.6k

Summary: Thommy can't sleep, so he works on one of Reader's art projects until he falls asleep

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    “So you just take the needle and thread it through here, trying to keep the stitches as tight together as possible.” You instructed, demonstrating the action on your small embroidery hoop, pushing the needle through the stretched muslin fabric, adding another colorful loop of thread to your artwork. “You can try it if you’d like.”

    Thomas held his hands out to take the hoop from you, loosely holding the needle between his long fingers. He pinched it between his index and thumb, attempting to locate the closest possible entry point next to the stitch you had just placed before him. He poked it through the fabric, flipping the hoop over to make sure he initiated contact. He giggled when looking at the other side, realizing how zany the bottom half appeared, finally unveiling the secret twisted pathways underneath the beauty of an embroidery artist’s work.

    “It looks like a bowl of colorful spaghetti.” He mused, flipping the hoop back to its right side to see where the next entry hole should go. He alternated between looking at the top and bottom, making sure the needle lined up with its target. When he finally poked through, the noise of its break caught his attention. It sounded like puncturing the batter head of a drum, the pop echoing throughout the quiet living room.

    “I’m sure you have gotten used to that sound by now.” He teased, handing the hoop back to you to assess his progress. You chuckled, sticking the needle halfway through the fabric to keep it from accidentally rolling away and poking you. You only made that mistake once.

    “Well, the fabric has to be super tight so the stitches don’t get all jumbled together. That’s the purpose of the hoop. Fabric slack is an embroiderer’s kryptonite.” You punctuated your statement with a snicker. Upon further inspection, you noticed that the exit hole you made during your stitch was suddenly a bit bigger than before. A classic rookie mistake made by almost every novice of embroidery art, including yourself at one time: accidentally putting the needle through the previous thread hole when trying to get the stitches as close as you can. A satin stitch, or any of the flavors of embroidery, weren’t an exact science. However, there were times when things needed to be as precise as possible.

    “Thommy, when I said get them as close as possible, putting them through the same hole was not exactly what I had in mind.” You joked, showing him the hoop. He tilted his head in confusion, leaning forward to inspect the threads, gently parting them to find they were indeed not separated by even the thinnest of weft fibers.

    “Oh…sorry.” He whispered, laughing awkwardly while running his fingers through his hair, sporting that incredibly lovable downturned smile. 

    “No need to apologize,” You assured, “It’s quite a common mistake and it’s an easy fix. I can’t tell you how many times I did that when I first started. Don’t worry, you’ll get better at it.” You saw Thomas’ hesitation still lingered as you simply backtracked the needle, undoing his stitch. You quickly did another one and handed it back to him, offering him a redo. “I know it’s a small needle, so I get if it’s tedious, but you can try again and I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

    “I don’t know, love,” Thomas sighed, “maybe this whole stitching thing is too hard for me. Plus, you’ve been working on this thing for like three weeks. I don’t want to mess it up for you.”

    You pouted, staring down at the artwork in your hands. It was a six-inch circular landscape, complete with a golden sunset and a lush field of flowers. Well, almost all the flowers had been added. You were currently filling in the various rolling hills with a gorgeous sage green thread. You wanted Thomas to help with the flowers, too, but the idea of even attempting a French knot stressed him out. You knew he wanted to learn, since embroidery art was something you loved. As your boyfriend, he was interested in learning about anything you liked, but this was one thing he felt like he couldn’t completely get into.

    “If potentially messing up my artwork is what you’re worried about, how about we try a fresh piece of fabric?” You tried, setting the hoop and needle down on the coffee table. “I could show you a chain or a stem stitch again. Or you can face your fears and try the French knot?”

    “Oh, no, leprotta, those are way harder than what you’re showing me now!” Thomas whined, rising from his seat on the couch to try and compensate for his rising nervous energy. “Maybe we can pick this up again later? I think I need a little break.” 

Your eyes widened, not sure how to respond. Not wanting to make him any more anxious, you mustered a small “Okay” before returning the hoop back to your bedroom. But “picking up again later” never happened.

    Later that night, Thomas found it hard to fall asleep. As much as he loved to sleep, this time it just wouldn't happen. He tried to get comfortable time and time again, but to no avail. He would close his eyes and try to bring about his own exhaustion as much as he could, but when he glanced at the clock again, only mere minutes had passed. Despite having to be awake early the following morning to be on time for one of the band’s interviews, it seemed that the more he tried to sleep, the more restless he became.

Thomas sat up, wondering what could be prying him away from a night of peaceful slumber. Too much caffeine? He may have had a larger slice of chocolate cake than usual for dessert, but that never bothered him in the past. Was it his nerves? In that case, having a cigarette typically calmed him down enough to get some rest. Doing his best not to disturb you, who was occupying the other half of the bed, he slowly got out from under the blanket and headed to the window. As he lit his cigarette and exhaled the first puff of air, he felt bad about the interaction he had with you earlier. Thomas didn’t want you to think he didn’t care enough to contribute to your art project. He just wanted to make sure that if he was going to make any sort of contribution, he was going to do it right.

Sticking the cigarette in the ashtray to extinguish it, he softly made his way back to the bed and began yet another attempt at sleeping. About thirty minutes later, his eyes shot open again, only aggravating him further. Thomas looked at the clock again. If things continued like this any longer, he’d be having to get up anyway by the time he got around to falling asleep. It was situations like these where the only viable solution was to get up and do something until it physically tired him out, so he had no choice but to go to bed. 

Sitting upright again, Thomas surveyed the room to find his perfect activity. Practicing guitar was impossible as it was far too loud and would surely wake you up. He could write a new song, but currently had no good ideas, and anything he wrote down would've been forced just to keep himself occupied. And then he spotted it.

Taking one final glance over at you to assure you were still sleeping, he tiptoed over to your desk to grab the small wooden hoop, still attached to the same threaded strand of sage green yarn. He contemplated staying at the desk to work on it, but feared that the scraping of the chair legs against the floor would wake you immediately, so back to the bed it was.

Thomas stared at the fabric, his fingertips caressing the shiny golden clamp at the top of the hoop. Plucking the needle from its muslin bed, he started from where you left off. His first idea on how to improve his satin stitch technique was to use one hand to feel along the bottom for the previous thread loop, preventing him from placing the thread in the wrong spot. However, all he succeeded in doing was poking his middle finger when he tried to make the stitch because he didn’t move it before threading.

Mouthing “Ow” as he yanked his finger away from the fabric, he began to get discouraged again. Taking a steadying breath, he closed his eyes and tried to remain positive. “Okay, Thom, you got this.” He whispered ever so softly, the words barely leaving his plush lips. “You can do this.”

 Not being able to see very well with only the small streaks of moonlight coming through the window, Thomas turned around to switch on the small lamp next to the bed, making the room a tad brighter. It wasn’t much light, considering it was only a table lamp, but at least he could see the colors on the fabric better instead of everything looking like one big grey blob.

You had been sound asleep up until this point, but the sudden abundance of light that seemed to be right outside your eyelids caught your attention. You slowly opened your eyes to inspect the source, seeing Thomas sitting up in front of you, slightly hunched over and extremely focused, his activity of choice concealed from your view. 

“Thommy?” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “What are you doing, baby?”

Thomas froze. This was quite possibly the only time he would ever prefer you not to know what he was doing. He slowly turned his head to look at you, his expression one of worry as he knew he had woken you up. Now that his position had changed, you could clearly see what he was up to. You smiled faintly, your emotion a mix of tiredness and perplexion as to why Thomas decided that now was the time to practice his embroidery skills. Upon closer inspection, the odd timing wasn’t the only thing to bewilder you. The way Thomas held an embroidery needle was unlike any you had ever seen before. He held it like a pencil, pushing it through the fabric with his pinky. It was certainly different, but undoubtedly adorable considering he was still a beginner. You could almost start giggling from that alone.

You sat up next to him and rested your chin on his shoulder, placing a kiss on the side of his neck. He smiled and continued to fill in the design, keeping the stitches nice and tight, just like you had shown him earlier.

“I guess you had been paying attention.” You whispered as you continued to observe him. 

“I remembered everything you said.” Thomas responded, his voice an equally low whisper. “Sorry for waking you, though.”

“You didn’t wake me.” You lied, hoping to ease his tension. “I felt a bit restless anyway.” Thomas knew you weren’t being truthful, but didn’t press the issue any further. “What made you want to practice this now?” You asked him, noticing his hand twitch at the question.

“I couldn’t sleep,” He confessed, “And I thought I could do something until I got tired. I thought maybe some practice alone would be better for me. But then you woke up.” And that’s when it hit you. 

“Did practicing in front of me make you nervous?” You breathed, praying you weren’t correct but sensing there was no other logical conclusion. Thomas nodded.

“When you first asked me to try it with you, I assumed it would be easy for me. Sewing is something you need to have good finger movement for. I figured my guitar skills would help me a lot, but I was wrong.” He explained, making another stitch to demonstrate. “The one big difference I didn’t think of was that, when I’m playing guitar, my fingers are constantly moving. From what you’ve shown me, sewing is much slower. I think the idea of normally moving quickly is what’s making me mess up. I just wanted to practice a bit more before coming back to you with it.”

Your gaze flickered between Thomas and the embroidery hoop. You smiled in a way that made your dimples quite prominent. “From what I can see here, you’re skills are doing nothing but good things for you.” Thomas stared down at the fabric, wondering what you meant. “I can’t even tell where I finished and you started.” You praised him, running the tip of your fingers across the muted green loops. 

Thomas looked up at you, his pupils so large you’d think he was high. “You mean it?”

“It never mattered to me if you were good at it, Thommy.” You replied, resting your chin against his shoulder again. “Regardless of what you were able to do, I’m just happy you want to be involved.”

Thomas resumed his embroidering stance, left hand holding the edge of the hoop against his lap while his right hand tightly gripped the needle. He went to make another stitch, but stopped. His eyes moved back and forth, as if he were reading invisible words on an equally transparent page. His left hand abandoned the hoop and grasped the thread instead, making sure to grip it as close to the fabric as possible. He softly repeated what you had told him when wrapping the thread for a knot. “Three loops for a small one, five loops for medium, seven for large.”

He carefully coiled the thread around the scarf of the needle before making contact with the fabric, remembering to hold the knot firmly against the stretched muslin to ensure it was secure. He extended his right hand to pull the thread, making a dent in the center of the yarn ball like a bundt cake. He had successfully created a French knot.

“You did it.” You whispered, moving a few stray hairs away from Thomas’ eyes. “I’m so proud of you, Thommy.” 

“I love you, tesoro.” He purred, turning his head towards you to press a kiss to your lips, his heart soaring with confidence and validation. 

“I love you too, baby.” You responded, softly tracing your finger along the edge of his jawline. Feeling uplifted from his wonderful contribution to your artwork, he continued adding stitches to the fabric, making rapid progress to the various regions of the field. You observed him with pure happiness, lazily stroking his hair, sweeping your fingers along the back of his neck. You felt your eyelids getting heavy, briefly closing them as you continued to lean against Thomas’ shoulder.

After several minutes, you no longer heard the distinct popping and stretching of any stitches being made. Slowly opening your eyes, you looked over at Thomas’ face to see his eyes closed and his mouth slightly open, his long eyelashes softly resting against his cheeks. You knew he was trying to fall asleep, but you thought he would at least make it back to bed before he did so.

Chuckling to yourself, you slowly took the hoop and needle out of his hands and placed them back on your desk, making sure Thomas didn’t fall forward or backward when you moved. Turning back to him, you gently held the back of his neck as you guided him to lay down, pulling the blanket up over his chest before getting comfortable on your side of the bed. Thankfully, you didn’t disturb him on the way down, since he was typically a heavy sleeper once he was finally out. Hurriedly turning off the lamp and climbing back into bed, you cuddled him until you fell asleep, ever so proud of him for always doing his best.

==================================

I wrote a rough draft of this fic about a year ago reflecting on an embroidery class I took in high school. And yes, I included the part about awkwardly holding a needle because one of my classmates held their needle that way and it absolutely baffled me lmao 🤭 I was always amazed how they made such incredible designs using that particular form but I guess they were doing something right 😁

[sluttyercobra]

Head first - Thomas Raggi x reader

Requested ? Yes, hope you ll enjoy :)

Prompt: 7 (oral sex), g (praise kink), 🥺 (please)

Words: 3400+

Warnings: oral (female receiving), fingering, stressed reader

Plot: reader’s first receiving oral (first everything for that matter) who is self-conscious about she will smell, taste...

Also requests are still opened and you can pick up prompt from the list, I would be more than happy to write for you and if you have any better title idea feel free ☺️

Thomas was on the bed, only wearing old jeans, focused on his video game. From time to time, he would get up to grab a cigarette and check on you. You were always deeply focused on the paper you had to write; seemingly tenser and tenser as time went on. You couldn’t find a way to properly articulate your argument in a cohesive way, and it was frustrating. After a few minutes of staring in desperation at your screen, groaning at each sentence that did not express your idea as eloquently as desired, you decided to call it a night.

You walked quickly to the bedroom you shared with your boyfriend, hoping to find some comfort in his arms. But you stopped at the doorstep and leaned on the door frame to take a good look at the guitarist. This cursed paper had retained so much of your attention that you hadn't even noticed how beautiful he looked that day. His jeans were fitting him so nicely and created a nice contrast with his exposed chest. You smiled internally as you observed that his chest hair was growing back, a lovely view you were deprived of any time he had to wax or shave them for a photoshoot. His little frown was accentuated as he had to do a complicated move in the game to save his character, and his pink tongue poked out of his lips. A wave of desire crashed down on you at the sight, and you attempted to concentrate on your breathing to calm down. You kinda hated yourself in those moments. You were not ashamed of your desire, it was a human and reasonable thing to feel it, especially for the person you loved, the main problem was that you didn’t know how to react to it.

Before Thomas, you had never been in a relationship or situationship or else with someone else. In high school, no one really had a crush on you, and after you didn’t really take time to look at boys or girls, you had other things to do. It meant that you had no sexual experience at all, the farthest you went was a make-out session. It is not something you were ashamed of, and you guessed that if you had really wanted to, you could have had sex with at least three persons in the past, but it just never happened, you were not that attracted to them. You had told Thomas even before dating to let him know what he was getting into, and he had agreed to go at your own pace.

So, those intense rushes of passion were something new to you. You had already felt lust in the past, sure, but nothing that you couldn’t solve yourself. Those surges were something else, it was almost animalistic. The only way to get rid of them was to feel Thomas’ touches, his long fingers caressing your face, his soft lips brushing against yours, his tongue on the tender flesh of your neck… At the same time, those only fueled the fire within you and made you crave for more, to go further. You probably would have for a few weeks now if your thoughts hadn’t infused a doubt in you. You couldn’t help but feel insecure about yourself. Your boyfriend kept telling you that no matter what, it would be divine for him, it would be the first time he would have sex with someone he loved, and it could only enhance the moment.

However, it was not what was stressing you out. You were a virgin, you were aware that you didn’t have the same experiences and skills as his last conquests, and you were okay with that. And you trusted Thomas enough to be sure that he would not compare you to the previous girls, and he would take all the time necessary to teach how to pleasure each other. You were much more panicked about the things you could control, like your taste, your smell… you were mortified at the mere idea that he could be disgusted by them. You had attempted to rationalize by reading on the subject, until then when you came across something new in your life that caused you anxiety, a published article was enough to help you. It was easier for you to deal with something once you had learned about it, and digested all the way to deal with it. But, this was different. No article, no lists, nothing could really help you. It was great to have a ton of information about how every genitalia could be different but beautiful in its own unique way, sadly it didn’t appease your fear. You repeated to yourself many times that Thomas would not be repulsed, that he loved you and his affection wouldn’t disappear for something as silly as how wet you could get. It didn’t matter a small voice in your head kept chanting the contrary.

“For how long have you been staring ?” the guitarist cheeky voice cut off your inner turmoil. If there was something that he liked above all, it was to tease you. He found it endearing to watch you shuffle.

“I wasn’t starring, just wondering how good this game is to prevent you from bothering me with dinner.” He smiled softly at your comment, if he was charmed by your embarrassment, he actually was even more captivated when you would badger back, it was very sexy to his eyes.

Still sitting on the bed, he opened his arms for you to cuddle. You rapidly joined him, your body between his long limbs, welcoming his ever-comforting embrace. Thomas's hands were tracing patterns on your arms as he placed his forehead on yours. You pecked his lips out of impulse, and his hand automatically traveled to your lower back and the nape of your neck to deepen the kiss. But before he could access your mouth and intoxicate you, he broke the embrace, and you looked at him, confusion written all over your face. You started to worry that you had done something wrong or misunderstood the situation.

“You are just so tensed right now. I really hope I didn’t overstep and make you feel forced to make out with me, cause if so…”

“You did not.” You replied within seconds, wishing to wash away the concern on his visage. “It is just that stupid paper that stresses me out.”

He nodded at those words and happily drew you closer to him. His lips crashed eagerly on yours, and you bit down his lips. He gladly opened his mouth for you to explore. As the kiss got more and more heated, you ran your finger through his hair. When you pulled slightly on them, he reflexively brought you closer to his body if it was possible. His growing erection was rubbing against your thigh, and it awoke again the fire at the pit of your stomach. You physically were yearning for more and hastily lowered yourself and Thomas a bit, so he could get more friction. However, your excitation had taken control of your brain and movement was so sudden that you actually fell on the bedsheets bringing your boyfriend down with you. You ended up pressed against the mattress with Thomas on top of you, his hard cock against your core. His eyes grew wide in surprise, but he promptly sat back on the bed. You noticed that his pupils were darker, laced with lust, but at the same time, he looked panicked again.

He opened his pretty mouth ready to apologize for the potential discomfort he caused, even tough it was your fault. You interfered before the words could leave his throat: “sorry, I guess I got a bit carried away. And I didn’t mind having you on top of me like this, I think I liked it a lot.” You confessed, your voice way lower than before. Your boyfriend didn’t say a word and simply extended his hand, so you could sit on the bed, facing him. He was gazing at you intensely, and you peered away.

He put a hand on your cheek to make you look at him. “don’t pry away, you are so pretty, let me just admire you please.” then he remained silent for a few seconds, his eyes scanning your face. Discomfort would normally fill you, but the soft smile and lust-blown eyes of the blonde were keeping it at bay. When his attention settled on your body, you experienced a boost of confidence, all your fears about yourself gone. Your mouth spoke before your brain: “we could do something more tonight.”

“I am going to give a head if this is ok with you.” he simply responded, and you froze. You were not expecting this, you hadn’t mentally prepared yourself for this. “To me, it is the best way to start, it is a great way to discover sex.” he continued, grinning at you. His smile died down when he observed your reaction. Your body had involuntarily gone rigid, your face was livid.

Thomas’ eyes immediately found yours. He needed to be sure that you had really pronounced those words. “I mean not the full thing, but maybe more than just making out. I am not an expert of this, really not, so I will let you lead the way and choose what we do” you added to make him understand, you forced yourself to speak slowly, assuredly, and to not murmur else he would question if you were sure of yourself, and by the time your insecurities would have resurfaced. You were convinced that your boyfriend would ask for a blowjob. All your friends had told you that is where they began their sexual exploration, all the porn and smut were starting by it, and he had been containing himself for so long for you, so it would be logical that given the opportunity he would choose it.

“I thought you were gonna go for a fellatio” you whispered, struggling to form a coherent sentence or thought.

“No I would rather make you feel good, it is your first sexual encounter, it is important for me that you take pleasure in it. But I don’t want you to feel pressure or anything, so if you would prefer something else, it is okay. Can you just tell me why you don’t want that, so I can propose an alternative that would be alright with you, something that can excite you? Also, if in the end, you rather cuddle then let’s cuddle” he grabbed your hands in his to soothe you, he was so earnest that you were not scared to tell him the truth. His eyes were telling you that he would never judge you, he just wished to figure out what was holding you back to comfort you.

“What if you dont like it?” The actual creases on the sheets suddenly seemed much more fascinating, and you nervously played with them to ease the disquiet created by his silence.

“I am sorry stellina, I know it is very hard for you to vocalize your thoughts, but I'll need you to cause I'm not sure that I follow you. But I can assure you I will like it, I already did it in the past and I really enjoy it.”

“Yes but what if I don’t smell good or what if I don’t taste good, what if it disgusts you, what if after that you don’t want to touch me anymore, what if…” you were rambling, full-on disclosing the insecurities that were gnawing at you internally for weeks. You only stopped when Thomas pressed your head against his chest, running his fingers along your back, kissing your temples.

“I don’t care about what you smell or taste, it doesn’t matter to me, and I'll always want to touch you and pleasure you if you allow me. Don’t be stressed about this, please, trust me. And if the role were reversed, if I had asked for a blowjob would you have reflected about how I smell, how I taste, would it have repulsed you, would it have prevented you from going down on me?” you shook your head in a no because actually, you had never given a single thought this. “See, so why would I? Now I don’t want to obligate you, if you need time to process this, we can do this later, we have all our lives for it.”

You stayed in his arms, burying your head in his neck, pondering on what he said. The more you were considering his words, the hotter the pyre in your core was. Now that you were reassured, you kept replaying the part where he admitted enjoying giving head. Your arousal was rising and the crumbs of insecurities (that Thomas had mostly made disappeared) couldn't stand a chance.

“Thomas, can you make me feel good, please?” you eventually asked, pressing yourself to look at him in the eyes, so he would be sure of your wish. His all face lighted up.

“That would be my greatest pleasure, amore” he beamed.

He delicately laid you down on the bed, your head resting on the pillow as he slid down the bed.

You lifted yourself on your elbows, uncertain of what he would do next. He was smoothly caressing your side. He watched you with a desire so ardent it sent shivers down your spine. When he observed the goosebumps erupting on your skin, a sly smile illuminated his face. Your mind was racing and Thomas tenderly lifted your skirt and spread your legs opened and kissed your inner thigh. You struggled to not close your legs involuntarily, but your boyfriend expertly placed his hand to prevent it.

“You are so perfect, so beautiful.” the guitarist praised as his glance wandered between your wet panties and your face.

“Don’t stare” you wailed, turning your head towards the wall to avoid his piercing gaze.

“How can I not when I have such a pretty view” he genuinely wondered, deposing, even more, kisses on your burning skin. He eventually tossed your panties away, not giving them a second thought, and directed all his attention back on your pussy. He bit down in lips in anticipation. “So fucking pretty” he muttered just before licking up your slit.

You moaned at the sensation, so new and exciting. The thrill was already consuming you, you had never experienced something of the sort, it is just so soft and electrifying. Thomas is rather slow, wanting you to feel everything, and discover it all. He then proceeded to give a broader lick from your entrance to your clit, and you helplessly jerked your hips forward, your body craving expressing its own language. In the midst of the pleasure you are exploring, you can't help but suffer from an abrupt self-consciousness about how you just reacted and how wet you are. You hid your face in your hands. The blonde immediately sensed your tension and stopped. “Don’t hide, don’t get in your head stellina, please, just keep your eyes on me.”

“Sorry” you mumbled as he traced a pattern on your sides to appease you. “It is just that when I am alone I'm not reacting like this and I don’t get this wet” you hissed, wishing for the ground to open itself and make you disappear.

“I guess that flattering for me then” he joked aspiring to lighten your mood and relax you again, which worked better than expected when he heard you laugh a little, a sound he savored. “You are doing real good, please don’t worry about it” he continued. You nodded, repeating under your breath those words to yourself, convincing you of the truthfulness they hold. He arched an eyebrow at you, waiting for your consent to go back to was he was doing, and you sent him a confident smile to urge him to.

He delved back between your folds, his pink tongue brushed past your clit, and you sighed in pleasure. Instead of sucking on it as you expected, his mouth met your entrance. He whined a little, delighted by your taste, and your body finally fully relaxed. You were flushed by his reaction, and the echo of his bliss was echoing through you.

He then positioned himself, so his eyes could bore into yours as he twirled his tongue around your clit. A pitchy sound escaped your throat as the small movements sent you to an unknown heaven. Your legs trembled, it was hard to keep them open and not tighten them around his head. He suckled on the little bud, and your body ached with a trembling desire and passion. Your boyfriend had to carefully but firmly clap on your thigh, so you would stay pinned down on the mattress. You extended your arm to grab his hair to ground you in reality as broken whimpers were filling the room. However, you didn’t dare to actually grip him, scared of how he would react, and decided to hold on to the bedsheets. Thomas obviously caught on to your first intention and took your hand in his, leading it to his scalp. You didn’t clearly register it, too lost in the intensity. You only realized when, after a particularly eager stroke, you tightly clutched his hair and he loudly moaned.

“Do you want to try something more or just continue this?” he quietly questioned, his face still buried in your pussy, glimpsing lovingly at you. You weren’t sure of how far he wished to go, what more he was proposing. He discerned the indecision in you and clarified. “Just fingering while still giving a head, nothing more. And if this is too much for you, tell me, I would be more than happy to continue to just go down on you. It is so delicious there.”

“We can try, I would love to try it” you cheerfully answered, you were so light at that moment, his praise combined with the passion in you had killed your insecurities for the moment.

He prodded a finger at your entrance and let it sink in slowly while his lips were grazing your labia. Until then, you were fixed on Thomas, but an exquisite tingle overcame your senses, and you dropped your head on the pillow. It was so satisfying, it was almost the same as when you would do it yourself, but better in every single way. The angle was better, and the lack of control over Thomas’ movement and pace led to an enjoyable surprise. When he was sure that you were not too overwhelmed, he started to eat you out again. With every push, pull, and lick on your clit, you were seeing stars. Your breath was more and more erratic, but you lusted after more.

“Thomas” you cried out as he picked up the pace. “Please” you whined in desperation. “I need more” you begged, voice broken.

He listened to your plea and started to work another long finger in you. Slowly, painfully slowly, to be certain that it would hurt you, but you were wet enough, so it slipped without any ache. You closed your eyes as you felt the stretch. With every new push, Thomas was accelerating a bit, fingering you harder and harder, and your intelligible whines encouraged him to do so. With his fingers deep inside you and his skillful suck on your bud, it didn’t take you long to be on the edge. You were clenching around his fingers as your boyfriend smoothly teased you with his tongue even more. You arched your back as you came, submerged by a stream of profound pleasure.

The blonde kept caressing your belly and kissing affectionately your flesh as you were coming back to your senses. You lazily sat on the bed. He was admiring, looking at you in awe. You noticed that his mouth and chin were shiny, and he gathered on his fingers the remaining of your wetness on his face. He held your gaze as he licked his fingers clean, producing sounds of contentment as he was doing so. “So good” he growled. He then took a good look at you, you could only imagine how disheveled you were. “Why are you so pretty, it is so unfair” he complained as he moved to be next to you. He took you in his arms: “do you need anything?” he inquired, and you shook your head in a no. “Water? Tea? Food? A washcloth?”

“Just a cuddle” you shrugged, and he held you even tighter.

“I warn you it won't be just one” he laughed as he buried his head in your neck.

[l0standn0tf0und]

the seventh part of my favorite fics with Little Beautiful Gorgeous Breathtaking Talented Meow Meow

first part

second part

third part

fourth part

fifth part

sixth part

* - smut

I'll sit here, with my arms wrapped around you, all night

I really do love you (😭the reason of my mental breakdown, such a good work)

the part of me i’ll always need

♡shy boy (everyone, do you hear me? I mean everyone, drop anything you're doing now, and read this one and the one below. because these are pure perfection)

♡prompt 17

♡in need of some extra love

♡let's just cuddle?

♡I'll kiss you again (if every time I re-read this I received a coin, then I would be a millionaire. I'm dead serious, I've re-read it for a shitload of times, this fic deserves all the time in the world to be spent on reading it)

♡love is in the small things

♡fluffy abc (14k of perfect representation of relationships with thomas. 14k of sweetness. 14k of perfectly described temper of thomas. and simply 14k of words that will bring you comfort and calm)

♡all my friends told me you’d break my heart*

♡satin, lace, and other pretty things p.2 & p.3* (these are favorite smut fics ever)

♡the taste of it* (no, I've changed my mind, this! is my favorite smut fic ever)

♡lesson one: it's all about anticipation*

♡lesson four: take matters into your own hands*

♡lesson six: the choice is yours*

♡hacred heart - tainted church* (someone, for the God's sake, call firefighters , this fic is too hot)

♡loosing it (part 1)*

all the love to the authors of all these masterpieces: @cuzimitaliano @eyoricka @tempobrucera @mywritingonlyfans @idyllicbutterfly @writingmaneskin @filthforfriends @oro-e-diamanti ❤️

masterlist

add yourself to my taglist

sweeties from my taglist🥰: @that-one-ma-blog @littlebitchsposts @shadowhuntyi @imjustanerdwholikestoread @britishmoonchild @maneslut @iamtashaquinn @icarodamiano @butkutee @writingmaneskin @theimpossiblehologramtree @little-moonbeam-666 @ilwiwbysmv @cc0le @oro-e-diamanti @inari-zaheer @superchrystaldrug @hiraetheral @que--sera--sera @iosonoarina @idyllicbutterfly @weareoddlydrawn @teenyweenynightghost (feel free and let me know if you wanna be removed from the tag list)

[writingmaneskin]

Stolen Time - A Thomas Raggi Story || Chapter Nine

Pairings: Thomas Raggi x Fem! Reader

Description: Thomas had one big love in his life and it all went to hell for a reason that he could never understand. Almost a decade later, the truth starts to unfold as he learns what really happened.

Warnings: it's angsty. Mentions of emotional abuse and neglect.

A/N: Well, thank you for all the love you've given to this story and for the patience you've had waiting for it. I hope you enjoy.

Words: 2.1k

THE STOLEN TIME MASTERLIST

THE MAIN MASTERLIST

kofi || join the taglist || send a request || chaoticallie

taglist: @moonlight-simp, @maneskings, @tempobrucera, @iosonoarina, @itsmaneskinbitch, @hiraetheral, @homesicam, @ilwiwbysmv, @bieberhoodforever, @vita-thrasher, @ethaneskin, @theimpossiblehologramtree, @dubist-immerinmeinengedanken, @butkutee, @8iunie, @ventvnni, @l0standn0tf0und, @dpaccione, @elvirabelle, @cuzimitaliano, @daddydamiano, @shehaddreamstoo, @iamtashaquinn, @h1ppieth1ngs, @alexxavicry, @tnu-ree, @bigsimpsimp, @fawndoesims, @ccweasley @aprilgloomisheretostay

Minutes turned into hours, hours into days, days into weeks and weeks into months.

Life was starting to feel a lot better for all of them as they settled into their new reality.

Theo was doing well in school, living between their two homes - spending whatever time they could with Thomas and living the rest of the time with Angie.

Angie was somehow managing to balance her academic life, working on her art and raising Theo, while also figuring out how to be Vic’s girlfriend and a normal human being.

Thomas - he was living his best life being Theo’s dad. The two spent a lot of quality time - going to cooking classes together, Thomas teaching Theo how to play the guitar, the two going for walks and often bringing you flowers at the cemetery too. They were there for each other and healed slowly as time moved on. Not that your loss was something any of them would ever fully heal from, but the pain lessened as time moved on.

“Dad, do you think this would have been possible if mum was still here?” Theo asked Thomas one gloomy December morning. It was raining outside and the two had set the day aside to decorate for the upcoming holidays.

“What?” Their question surprised him and he wanted to be sure that he understood them correctly before answering.

“Do you think we could have been a family if she was still here?” Theo rephrased the question.

“I think that a lot of time was stolen from us. A lot of opportunities to be a family and I don’t know what could have been but I know that I wouldn’t have left you or her behind.” 

Thomas went to hug Theo. He knew that the holidays might not be particularly easy on them and he was expecting questions to arise and yet, he still worried if all that he was trying to do would be enough for Theo to feel the joy of the holiday season that any child should feel.

Theo held Thomas as tight as they could. 

“I don’t want to lose you.” 

“I’m not going anywhere, Theo.” He reassured them. 

**

“How are we going to get the star on top of this tree?” Vic looked at the tall tree and then at her girlfriend.

“Thomas will help.” Angie chuckled.

“Don’t you have a ladder?”

“I do but we should wait either way, Theo should be the one putting it on the top.”

“True.” Vic agreed. 

“I still haven’t told her that I need to go to the States for a few days.” Angie confessed. She’d gotten a call from her parents and she had to show up because otherwise they would be back and none of it would go well. 

“I am worried about you going there alone.” Vic squeezed her hand. 

“It will be fine.” 

“What if it isn’t? What if we lose you?” 

“You will not lose me.” Angie hugged Vic and kissed her very gently.

“Angie..”

“I didn’t get this far to only get this far. I’ll go, see them for a few days and be back in time for Christmas. It will be fine.”

“Are you sure that I can’t come along? I don’t want to meet them because I have nothing nice to say to them but I still want to be there for you.”

“It will be okay, Vic. I’ll be back before you know it.” Angie promised.

“You better come back to me.” Vic kissed her again. 

**

The rain finally stopped but there was still fog enveloping the city and making everything slow down. Theo was done studying for the day and there was still time before Thomas and Theo were due to meet Vic and Angie.

“Will you stay here today?” Thomas asked Theo.

“Yes, Angie is busy with Vic and I am happy to be here with you.”

“I’m happy to be with you too.” He smiled at his child. 

“We could go buy presents later. I need to find something for nonna and nonno.” Theo added.

“I do too and of course, we can do that. We can also grab a bite before we go to Angie.”

“Angie might kill us if we go full.” 

“Vic is cooking.”

Theo chuckled. “Vic’s cooking is not that bad.”

“I don’t want to spend the holidays in the bathroom.” Thomas insisted, making Theo laugh even harder.

**

“Promise me you’ll tell Theo.” Vic insisted, leaning against the kitchen counter. They had put cosy fireplace ASMR on the TV and they were setting up everything for when Theo and Thomas would arrive. The plan was for the four of them to have a meal together and then decorate the apartment for the holidays.

“I’m scared.” Angie admitted.

“You can’t just vanish from their life.” 

“I am not vanishing, I am going over to see my parents and then I’ll be back before any of you know it.” 

“Yes, but you know that it will make Theo anxious. You shouldn’t keep it from her.” 

“I will tell her.” 

Right on cue, Thomas and Theo arrived, bringing flowers for Angie and sweet and salty pastries for dessert.

“You are not full, are you?” Vic looked at both Theo and Thomas, who with each passing day more and more resembled each other.

“No, we had a coffee and a hot chocolate, and we shared a pastry." Thomas raised his arms defensively.

"It was necessary!" Theo insisted. "We did some shopping and just needed a treat…"

"And it has nothing to do with Vic's cooking."

“I heard that.” Victoria said, making the others laugh.

“Thom, can I talk to you for a few minutes?” Angie pulled him to the side when they all went to the kitchen.

Vic looked at Angie, concern showing on her face but she knew that Angie would at least tell Thomas about her upcoming trip. Vic and Thomas would take care of Theo but the worry was still there.

“What’s up?” The two went to the balcony and Thomas lit a cigarette. He was smoking significantly less since Theo had entered his life but it was still a habit he couldn’t kick.

“I am going to America for a few days.” Angie decided not to beat around the bush.

He almost dropped his cigarette.

“Why? What happened? Do you need security? Backup? Theo doesn’t have to go, right?” 

“I haven’t told Theo yet. And no, my parents are fine with me not bringing them but I am still conflicted on whether or not I should tell Theo where I’m going.”

“Theo will want to know, you can’t lie to them.” Thomas insisted.

“I will take to the papers about Theo’s status.”

Thomas and his lawyer, with Angie’s help, had been drafting papers - adoption ones, so that Thomas would be able to recognize Theo as his own. It was the peaceful route of adoption and Thomas had passed with flying colours all the checks that institutions required. Now it was for the guardians to sign away the rights. Hopefully outside of court. 

“Don’t put yourself in unnecessary danger, Angie.” 

“I am not but the sooner you have adopted Theo and it’s all behind us, the better.” Angie insisted.

Thomas considered his friend’s words. 

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No. I want Theo to be here with you and if you are here and then they will be safe.”

“You know Vic will lose her shit if something happens to you, right?”

“I know. But you will take care of my loved ones for me, won’t you?”

“Always. But you are very loved too, Angie. Don’t forget that.”

Vic and Theo were sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for the adults to walk back in the room. Victoria couldn’t wrap her mind around how much had changed in just a few months but it wasn’t something that she would give up easily.

“Did something bad happen?” Theo almost whispered. They could see the tension in Thomas’ body and they had noticed Angie’s behaviour too.

“No, why do you ask that?” Vic ran a hand through Theo’s hair. 

“Angie is acting off. And papa became all tense. I can see them talking.”

“It’s all okay, Theo. You are safe and you don’t need to worry about anything at all.Let the adults take care of you.”

“Does it have to do with my grandparents?” Theo looked at Vic. The bass player didn’t know what to say.

“They are talking about something.” Vic tried to dodge the question.

“Are they coming over for Christmas?” Theo still had nightmares about their grandparents’ meanness. It was brutality that was not visible to the public, brutality kept behind closed doors but one that was so ugly that they couldn’t get it out of their head easily.

“Theo, we are going to have the best Christmas, I can promise you that.” Vic squeezed Theo’s hand. 

“How can you know?” Tears rushed to Theo’s eyes, thinking about what the past year had been for them, the loss of you, Thomas appearing in their life and everything that had changed. 

“Because we are here and we will be together.” Vic reassured calmly.

Theo went to hug Vic.

Angie and Thomas re-entered the kitchen and saw Vic and Theo all snuggled up.

“Don’t you look cosy?” Thomas smiled. His smile disappeared when he saw that Theo had cried. 

“What’s happening?” Theo went to stand between Angie and Thomas.

“I need to fly to America before the holidays.” Angie explained. 

“Why? Papa said that a lawyer can give them papers.” Theo insisted. Thomas hated that they were growing up so early and he hoped that this would eventually slow down. He wanted to give Theo the best childhood.

“My parents said they want to see me. I will go and fulfil that desire so they don’t show up knocking on our door.” 

“Will you be safe?”

“As safe as I can be.” Angie promised. A promise that didn’t sit well with neither Thomas, nor Theo or Vic. 

“When will you be back?”

“I am not going to miss Christmas with my baby, I promise.” 

You make a lot of promises, Angie. Vic thought to herself. She shared a glance with Thomas, whose hope was that Theo wouldn’t be broken again.

**

“I will call you when I land and we can text whenever.” Angie reassured Theo.

“You don’t have to go.” Theo insisted.

“You don’t have to go alone.” Vic added.

“It will be fine, I will be back before you know it.” Angie said again. 

“I will take care of the girls, don’t worry.” Thomas was the calmest of them even though inside he was frustrated and worried, but tried to keep appearances for Theo’s sake.

“Thank you.” 

“Just come back quickly.” Theo begged. 

“And be safe.” Vic added.

“I love you.” Angie kissed Vic gently before hugging Thomas and Theo and going inside the airport, determined that this wouldn’t be the last time she saw her family.

Theo was silent the whole ride to Thomas’ apartment. 

“Theo, do you want to watch a film when we go to the apartment?” Vic offered.

“I think I’ll go to sleep.” Theo replied quietly.

“We can go out for dinner later.” Thomas added.

“We’ll see.” 

Angie got on the plane and settled in her place, her mind racing with everything that yet had to happen and the fear that haunted her. A normal person would scoff and say that those were just her parents, they wouldn’t do anything to her, they wouldn’t do anything to Theo either. 

But they were the ones that had kept you and Theo apart. They are the ones who sent you away time and again, ripping you away from everything and everyone you knew just because of the supposed shame that would always follow them because you had chosen Theo over appearances time and again.

Angie could never forgive them for the stolen times, for the time they had taken from you and your family. She could never forgive them for how they treated you and for how they treated Theo. She could never forgive the years of abuse, neglect, and exile. You never deserved that and neither did Theo.

“I’ll make sure they get what they deserve.” She played with the bracelet that you had given her the previous year. 

The hours couldn’t go by quickly enough. She wanted to put it all in the past.

It was time for her to live. To heal. To move on.

She dragged the small packed suitcase with her when she got off the plane and saw a tall man holding a sign for her. 

“They’ve been expecting you, Angela.” The driver said when she approached him.

[oro-e-diamanti]

Can i please request thomas + no. 17, maybe with a little bit of angst, fluff and smut?

"We passed 'just friends' about 20 fucks ago."

Thomas + angst/fluff/smut

“And for your girlfriend?”

You look up in surprise at the bartender’s question. It’s not directed at you – rather at Thomas, already nursing his own drink, arm slung around you as he’s standing next to you. He seems surprised, the alcohol already having an effect on him as he turns to you and raises his eyebrows with a smirk. You quickly put an end to it.

“Not his girlfriend. Just friends.”

“Cucciola, we passed ‘just friends’ about 20 fucks ago.”

You don’t have a drink to choke on but you’re sure you would do a spit take if there had been any liquid left in your mouth. Your head whips around towards Thomas at lightning speed. It takes a moment to digest that he actually said this out loud. For everyone to hear. Okay, potentailly only the bartender, who is now trying to hide his grin, but his boldness still takes you by surprise. Without any further explanation, you steal Thomas’ drink, downing what was left, before taking his hand and dragging him away.

The toilets are small, unisex, and far from glamarous, but they’ll do, you think, as you push him into a stall, following him in and locking the door behind you. It’s quiet. The music of the bar is muffled by the walls. No one else is in the room, not many people have ventured out on a Wednesday night. So all you hear is your beating heart and Thomas’ giggles.

“What the fuck was that about?” you ask, pushing him into the wall behind him to make room for your anger, but he’s not impressed.

“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” His smirk slowly drops from his face. “Not sure what you think we’re doing, but this sure as hell isn’t friends.”

You’re not sure what to say. And if you’re honest, that’s not something that happens a lot.

“Come on, don’t look at me like that.” He’s patting the pockets of his jeans. You know he’s looking for his cigarettes but you’re also aware that Ethan stole them back earlier this evening. “It’s what you do, isn’t it? Get too close, get a few fucks in, then leave them. Hardly makes us ‘just friends’, does it?”

You don’t think you’ve ever heard Thomas this cynical. His words sting, too. You can’t even argue back. It’s not like he’s wrong. You’ve done this before, more than once, a string of casual aquiantances giving you what you needed until they didn’t anymore and you moved on.

But they have never been your friends before.

You haven’t put much thought into it before. Having known Thomas for years, the transition into something more had been seamless once he broke up with his girlfriend and complained about a lack of physical intimacy weeks later. It’s not like the other times. It’s not even close. There was no talk to find your boundaries, to ensure you’re on the same page, to agree on the terms. It simply keeps happening. You don’t know which part you regret most right now.

“You’re different,” you finally say, but he scoffs.

“Is that the line you feed all of them?”

You wince at the harshness in his voice. Taking a careful step forward, you almost press your body against his in the small cabin. You don’t know how to make him believe but you can’t bear the distance.

“I’ve never said that to anyone.” Your voice almost breaks and you want to scold yourself for it. “I’m not using you, Thomas. You’re not just one of many. I…”

The words almost slip out of your mouth, words you’ve never said to him before, words you weren’t aware you have been thinking about, but all of a sudden you just know. His eyes meet yours. It feels like he’s seeing you for the first time. His gaze has softens, the scowl on his face gone, and his composure is wavering.

“Me too,” he finally says and then, out of nowhere but at the same time perfectly premeditated, your mouths crash into each other. His arms wrap around you instantly, a possessive gesture that feels both loving and fueled by frantic need. You return the sentiment easily, hands in his hair, somehow both pushing his head further toward you and pulling at the blond strands.

His lips are on your throat, the place where your neck meets your shoulder, the cleavage on show in your lowcut top and he must be crouching uncomfortably, but you mind is full of nothing but Thomas, Thomas, Thomas and you can’t get enough. You drag his head back up by his hair and a moment passes where you simply stare at each other, heavy breathing rattling both of your chests, eyes dark with lust, hair messed up, and you think he’s beautiful.

You think you should take your time. You should be doing this any place but a random toilet in some bar you’ve never been to and will never go to again. You should make sure he knows this means something. But somehow, still, both of you think you’re exactly where you need to be, right here and now, with each other. Everything else will still be there later. But you need him now, and you can tell he’s thinking the same.

Your hands start tearing at his belt at the same time as his are moving under your dress. His fingertips are hot against your flesh. The belt buckle finally gives way. You don’t hesitate in pulling his jeans and his boxers down in one. It only takes one touch to his already hardening cock to completely distract him from his own movements. He gasps loudly when you finally touch him, head thrown back until it audibly hits the wall behind him. You grasp onto his flesh, bringing his face towards you again with your other hand to kiss him breathlessly. It gives him enough room to start fumbling with your underwear again, pulling at it until it hits the floor at your feet.

You briefly think about having to walk home without your panties because there’s no way you’re putting them on again after they’ve hit the floor of a public bathroom. But then his fingers are on you, tracing your clit, feeling your wetness, moving into you, and you don’t care all that much anymore.

“Thomas, I… please.”

He knows. Removing his fingers, he pushes you backwards, gently, until you hit the opposite wall. He grabs onto one of your thighs, holding it up, inviting you to wrap your leg around him, opening you up. When he enters you, you keep the eye contact and you don’t think that’s something you’ve ever done before.

A silent fuck leaves him and you smile. You know exactly what he’s feeling. You’re doing too. It’s different, this time. If someone asked about it, you might have said it’s the first time it feels like it’s more than fucking. It’s closer to making love. In a public toilet, drunk, at constant risk of being caught, but somehow, it’s love all the same.

He’s moving differently, too. He knows what to do, how to touch you to coax the sweetest moans from you, but he’s not doing it just to get off now. He’s treasuring the moment, keeping his eyes on you, keeping his mouth on yours as much as he can. It’s closer. It’s better. It’s so much better.

Thomas is still looking at you when you come and you try your hardest to keep your eyes open as you ride through the waves he’s providing you with, needing to share this moment with him so badly. You clench around him, pulling him that little bit closer, pulling at his hair that little bit harder, and he’s coming undone too, eyes on your until he fully succumbs to the pleasure and lets his head drop onto yours.

You stay like that for a while, panting against each other, his head leaning on yours, your arms and leg around him, still joined, still intimate. Neither wants to break the moment. It’s the sound of a door opening that drags you back to reality. You finally move away from each other. You listen closely as the person moves around the room, uses the toilet, the running water of the sink, leaves again, while Thomas puts his clothes back into place. The panties on the floor are swiftly discarded into a bin.

Neither of you speaks, but you’re relieved to see your smile mirrored on his face. When he takes your hand, you let him. You ignore the shouts from the rest of the band as he pulls you back to the bar, already knowing they’ll be making comments about what you’ve been up to, whooping and laughing. The bartender raises and eyebrow but breaks up into a grin as Thomas speaks and you can’t help but do the same.

“Some red wine for my girl, please.”

[tempobrucera]

Linger

Pairing: Thomas x Reader Wordcount: 2.2k Summary: 5 times you want to ask Thomas to stay the night but don’t + 1 time Thomas stays Warnings: Fluff, some yearning - I guess A/N: Short and sweet (short isn’t what I am known for and the other ones are getting much longer again) and probably not really good but I need to get myself back to writing. So many ideas are still waiting for me, next ones are gonna be another Thomas (smut) one and some more poly fics.

Add yourself to my taglist.  / Masterlist

.#####.

One

You can’t really remember when you thought about it the first time. About Thomas staying the night. Thomas in your bed, next to you, keeping you warm. The first time you thought about asking him to stay you can remember however. 

After everyone already left Thomas decided to stay.

“I could have another drink,” he had smiled, “And another cigarette.”

And he stayed for another cigarette and drink right at your kitchen window. Lit cigarette in one hand, drink in the other. Your eyes followed his movements, how he moved the cigarette to his lips. How he inhaled, then exhaled. 

Internally you sighed, aware of your staring. 

First there was Thomas, who leaned outside the window, looking up at the sky with a frown. Just before a raindrop hit your own face. It started to rain down heavily in a few seconds. Thomas flicked the cigarette out of the window before closing it.

“Do you have an umbrella for me?”

You did just shake your head, you don’t have one. You gave it to a friend a while ago and have not seen it since. There was another sigh from Thomas. 

That’s the first time you thought about asking him to stay the night. The image how you cuddle close, watch something silly before falling asleep, how you could touch him without worry. All the things you’re too afraid to ask for, you weren’t quite sure what he would think about it, if he would be surprised, confused, maybe even uncomfortable.

“Time to get wet then.” 

Thomas smiled at you before pulling you into a hug for a bit longer than usual.

Two

The next time it happens is about a month later. Thomas being home from tour for a few days and coming around when some friends are over for dinner. He brings a bottle of white wine. 

It’s a normal night, laughter, drinks, Thomas who compliments your pasta in front everyone, spaghetti still in his mouth. It has you blushing. 

You got closer over the last weeks. You feel like you are becoming a friend to him. But with that your longing also intensifies. A burning little flame somewhere close to your heart. You’re surprised that no one has called you out about it by now. Sometimes you can’t take your eyes off him, when he laughs or when he’s silly and cute. When he pouts at Vic. When he plays guitar which someone just put into his arms in a bar. Someone should have noticed by now but even Thomas himself seems to be oblivious to it. Sometimes he just looks back at you - and smiles.

Once again he stays behind again when everyone leaves. Even helps you clean dishes, hums some melody next to you. He looks tired, there are dark circles under his eyes. You want to brew him a cup of tea, wrap him into a blanket and wait until he falls asleep. But there’s that fear of him looking at you out of big eyes and to scare him away. That he could think that you’re too clingy. The fear of the awkwardness the question could bring.

He laughs about a stupid joke you tell him when you’re back in the living room. He looks good sprawling his long limbs all over your sofa and he doesn’t look like he’s planning on leaving soon. It’s already two o’clock in the morning. And for the first time you’re talking about something that goes deeper, that feels like a connection. 

You want to ask him to stay when he hugs you goodbye two hours later. But you don’t. And Thomas leaves, you can feel the brush of his lips against your cheek.

Three

The third time has you laughing and Thomas muttering under his breath. Thomas just came back inside from smoking on your balcony. 

“What did you do?” You laugh.

He’s only in one shoe - the other one missing.

“Fell through the railing when I stretched my legs.” 

“You don’t want to get it back?”

“And then some weirdo grabbed it and ran away.”

You snort. 

“For real?”

“For real.”

He sits down next to you and puts his head on your shoulder. He started to be closer to you, also on a physical level. It makes your cheeks heat up and sets a colony of insects free in your chest. Everytime his fingertips are brushing your skin, everytime he hugs you close, when he whispers something against your shoulder and you can feel his breath. 

“I guess, you don’t have a pair to spare in my size?” He laughs and gets you out of your spiraling thoughts.

“No,” you laugh as well. But you could stay here. At least until the morning and someone could fetch you a pair, you think. But all you say is: “Sorry.”

“Looks like I’m gonna walk home barefoot then.”

Four

Another night, another night you want to ask Thomas to stay. 

It’s the last night of Sanremo. Vic is lounging on your couch with a drink in hand while Ethan and Thomas are sitting on the floor, Thomas has his head in Ethan’s lap until Vic throws a pillow at his head.

“You're going to be the next Damiano?” She laughs at him. 

Damiano left an hour ago, his social battery running low. Vic rolled her eyes and made fun of him not helping the general situation until Ethan told her off and Damiano decided to flee out of your home. Now she’s throwing another pillow against Thomas' head. He looks up at her grumpily and the next cushion hits him square in the face. Ethan catches the next one while Thomas scrambles up from the floor, takes his drink and ends half on top of you not even a second later. 

You can see Ethan and Vic look at each other but they don’t comment. Thomas only cuddles closer and you brush your fingers through his hair, scratch his scalp. He sleeps through Vic jumping on the sofa, Ethan who moved up to sit next her telling her to fuck off when she jumps on his thighs and both yelling at the screen in Italian. He only wakes up when you whisper into his ear.

“Who won?” He yawns.

There’s no time to answer him as Vic already screams Ice Cream time and Ethan tries to shush her.

“You’re like a five year old on a sugar high already,” Thomas mumbles. Somehow Ethan still trudges to your freezer and hands out cold sweetness to each of you.

Thomas feels like dead weight on your legs when Vic and Ethan go to get their jackets and shoes. Ethan comes back with Thomas’ stuff which he dumps on Vic when he sees that Thomas doesn’t move.

“Thomas, c’mon.” Ethan mutters. “Or do I have to carry you out of here?”

You want to say that he can stay. In your lap, just like he is. Half asleep but Ethan and Victoria are both looking at you and everything you want to say dies somewhere in your throat. 

Thomas stretches his arms out to Ethan who picks him up with a sigh.

“Can some of you idiots please open the door for me and the bigger idiot in my arms?”

Five 

It’s already half a year since the thought crossed your mind the first time. 

They just came off stage and Thomas hugs you as sweaty as he is. Grinning and twirling you around a little bit. You laugh. The moment ends when Damiano gives Thomas a friendly slap to the shoulder and he lets you down. 

There’s dinner, drinks and dancing when they’re all showered and in their day clothes again. Thomas who chases after you on the sidewalk when you go back to the hotel. Thomas who weasels himself into your room before you can protest, throws himself on your bed - shoes still on, turns on the TV and grabs for the menu that’s on the nightstand.

“We just had a three course meal?”

“That was hours ago,” he looks at you offended, “I’m still growing.”

“Where are you still growing?”

He looks back at you and blushes. You’re sure you’re getting redder than him. Before one of you can say something Thomas buries his nose in the menu and you lock yourself in the bathroom. 

When you come back Thomas is sprawled out on your bed munching on some steak fries. He is completely occupied by the documentary that’s on TV. He only looks at you when you crawl into bed next to him, he gives you a slice of apple cake.

“You said cake is always a good snack,” he says before you can question it.

He’s right, you did say it but that was months ago. 

The point of the night where you can’t keep your eyes open anymore reaches sooner than you want to. Thomas moves next to you, takes the plate out of your hand, covers you up with the blankets. You force yourself to open your eyes and for one silly second you think he’s going to kiss you. He’s only kissing your cheek like he did so many times the last few months. 

“I should leave.”

But he’s still lingering on your bed next to you. As all the times before you want to tell him to stay. You’re sure you’ll feel lonely the second he closes the door behind himself, you would love his company and waking up wouldn’t be such a tragedy when you would wake up next to him. But there’s still the worry to freak him out, that you’re too desperate. 

“Good night.”

You can hear the almost silent click of the doo that announces that he’s gone.

Plus One

It happens again when Vic shows up at your place for a movie night. To your surprise she has Thomas in tow who gives you a small wave and a smile before he bites his lips. 

“Brought a chaperone,” Vic looks at you apologetically, “Damiano said I need to be supervised. No party, no fun.” She rolls her eyes. You’re asking yourself why Thomas of all people has to play the babysitter, it’s not like he’s known for saying no to a party or a wild night out. Maybe sometimes more tamed than her because as he said he loves his bed more than Vic would ever love a guy but still not the person you would have expected to look after her. 

“I thought we were only watching a film and drinking some wine anyways?”

“Great,” Vic says and ushers you into your own flat, “Thomas loves some wine and watching a movie.”

He looks like he wants to slap her and you’re sure he’s communicating to her without words, just with a look, at this moment. You raise an eyebrow but it is ignored.

You don’t think about it anymore when you’re all spread out across the living room. Wine and snacks between you. Thomas ends up with chips crumbs all over his shirt. Vic shakes her head: “Can’t take you anywhere, you’re a pig.”

Thomas just shrugs. 

“At least you’re a good reminder to myself why I shouldn’t go back to men. Your species is horrendous.”

He flips her off. 

Half way through the film they’re having another argument, Vic calling him a disgrace. You’re getting more wine. 

By the end of the film Thomas is asleep on your sofa while Victoria and you are sitting in your armchairs. Without thinking you get a thin blanket to wrap it over him. You blush when Victoria laughs. 

“Was a great evening,” Vic says when she gets up, “but I have to leave.”

When Victoria hugs you goodbye you finally ask: “And … What’s with him?”

“I’m certain he can find the way to the door himself. Or he doesn’t.” She winks. Then she’s gone.

You can’t bring it over yourself to wake him up just to kick him out. Which is why you let him in his peaceful slumber, you press a kiss to his forehead before you go to bed.

You almost scream when you wake up in the middle of the night, someone behind you in your bed. You’re close to a heart attack and the panic sets in.

“Sorry,” Thomas whispers, “Shit, sorry, it’s just me.”

“God, you scared me.”

“That was stupid,” he admits, “Sorry, sorry, that was a stupid idea.”

Only now you realise that Thomas has his arm wrapped around your waist, his face buried on your shoulder. 

“Sorry, I didn’t want to invade your space like this,” he says, “But … Can I stay?”

“I would like that,” you say when you turn in his arms. Thomas aims to kiss your cheek when you move the tiniest bit and his lips land on yours, your hand in his tousled hair.

He looks at you.

“Sorry, sorry,” now it’s your turn to apologise, “Sorry.”

Before you can flee from your own bed, he wraps one of his legs around you and gets you to kiss him again, this time deeper than before. 

“That means …,” he sounds a bit out of breath, “I don’t have to go back to the couch?”

.#####.

END.

.#####.

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[maneskingroupie]

A little preview of a Thommy fic I’ve been working on…

(It’s going to be longer than the previous fics I posted, promise.)

-

The sun had set over Italy, and it was beautiful outside at dusk.

You walked up to the front door of Thomas’ house and knocked on it.

The door opened to the sight of Thomas wearing a halfway undone button down shirt and some jeans, along with one of his necklaces: a gold chain with a pendant of Jesus on the cross. The glimpse of his bare chest made you want to jump into his arms and kiss him all over.

“Ah, there you are. Come in, cara.”

[pjisskullourful]

𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

🏳️‍🌈 Thomas × reader

NSFW 🔥 lovedup adults doing nasty adult things to one another

° Thomas Raggi & female reader insert

° you've never had a boyfriend support your queer identity before, but now thomas wants to accompany you to your first ever gay rights rally

wordcount::::       3,721

° thanks to everyone who voted for this to be brought out of the vault💋  [commissions are priority! there are currently 4 commissions in cue!]

"You're remindin' me of a fly- hoverin' around like this." Thomas said. "Why don't you just sit down on my lap, like you usually do when you're doing my makeup?"

You dipped your brush back into the square of pink pigment, shaking your head as you walked in front of the chair your boyfriend was seated in, the morning sunshine illuminating his face as you looked at him from a different angle. "No, I don't think we'll be doing that, baby." You bent down, considering how to get this application to match what you had done on his other eye. "This isn't like going out to dinner with your friends, where you can distract me with your cuteness and maybe we fool around a bit 'cause if we arrive late, the most important thing we'll miss is the garlic bread. 

"This is a gay rights protest- it has a set starting time and I don't wanna miss any of it. It's my first time protesting and what if we arrive late and we miss out on learning the chants?"

"This tense interest in time management- is this the gay agenda that I'm always hearing about?" He asked with a cheeky grin.

You swept the pink eyeshadow into the inner corner of his eye, pleased when he took you seriously enough to hold still. The significance of this day was making you nervous.

It had been inspiring nerves in you ever since you had first learnt of the event. Victoria had sent you a photo of a flyer found taped up in the city - she insisted you had to go and scream extra loud for her (she would be out of town, visiting family the same weekend, unable to attend).

You had never been in the closet with the members of Måneskin - when you had first met Thomas a little over a year ago, your phone case had been covered in the colours of the bisexual pride flag. There hadn’t been a wasted effort of trying to hide it. He had never questioned you on it or made any comments that made you feel unsupported. You were the first queer woman he had dated, but you were far from the first gay girl he had cared for in his inner-circle. He didn't need you to go over the basics with him, he didn't need a big, serious talk about what this meant or how it affected him - he had simply nodded his head, he gave your hand a comforting squeeze and told you to correct him without hesitation if he ever did anything unbefitting of an ally.

He was the exact opposite of your last boyfriend who had been stuck in the attitude of homophobia. He used slurs in private, to everyone else he would pretend his attitude was less aggressive, always quick to say that he didn't mind if people were gay - he just wished they wouldn't rub it in his face. 

You had ignored his every comment, avoiding any kind of discussion around the topic. Because it hadn't mattered that you thought you might be bisexual. Nothing could be explored while you were in a relationship with a man, and you thought you didn't need the label.

But Thomas wanted you to express how you felt, he loved how you lit up whenever you got to talking about your sexuality and the community you were slowly discovering. He left you with no reason to hold yourself back. You could find where you belonged, with him giving you a supportive nod and thumbs-up every step of the way.

Now you were painting the colours of the bisexual flag across his eyelids, preparing to march through the streets of Rome with him.

You felt extra appreciative of him at this moment. This wasn't something that you had thought you would ever get to experience.

You couldn’t help yourself, swooping down to kiss him on the lips. He placed a hand to your cheek, seeking to deepen the kiss as he gently drew your bottom lip into his mouth. Feeling his tongue sweep over your lip made you forget of those anxieties, in a fleeting moment that made you want to rock your body into his.

Instead you willed yourself to lean away, licking your lips as you straightened up. You cleared your throat, trying to ignore how you could see him in your peripheral vision as you looked at your eyeshadow palette. You covered the brush bristles in more pink, glittery powder.

“I thought I was being the problem child, distractin’ you from being ready on time and all that.” He said, smirking. “I’m not allowed to invite you to sit on my lap, but you’re allowed to kiss me?”

You were trying to stop yourself from smiling, because you knew it would undermine any authority you were hoping to gain. "Shut up, it's part of my process. You wouldn't understand it, you're not a makeup artist."

He laughed. "You can just say that you wanted to kiss me."

"Fine." You said, his eyes shutting as he became still when you came towards him with the brush again. "I wanted to kiss you, and I considered my options and realised that I would have time to kiss you if I didn't need time to do some sort of graphic eyeliner extravaganza on you. I think you're gonna agree that you don't need the liner, 'cause you already look spectacular.

"In fact, I couldn't take you if you looked any more spectacular. I don't need to be upstaged by my own boyfriend."

"No chance of that happening." He said. "But just so you know…" He hooked his finger through one of your belt loops. "... if you need some more assistance with your artistic process, I'm happy to kiss you again. Or we could do more than kissing. For the sake of your artistic process, of course."

"Great, thanks, I'll keep that in mind." You said sarcastically. "Okay, I think the only thing left is kajal and mascara. Are you comfortable with me doing those, or do you wanna do that yourself?"

"I can handle those."

"Okay, I'm gonna get my lipstick on. But I'll be right over there if you need help."

He picked up a hand mirror. "Hey, I may not have any kind of sophisticated artistic process, but I can put on mascara and eyeliner. You just go and do whatever you need to do to make sure you're prepped for serving the gay agenda."

— — —

The sky was getting darker by the time you returned home, hand-in-hand with your boyfriend. You didn't have much voice left, all of the chanting and screaming had left you quite hoarse.

You were without your voice, and there were other things you had lost during the course of the day. The weight of all of those nerves that had made you feel like you were facing your first day of high school had dissipated. You had lost your anxieties and your stress.

But the best thing to lose were your uncertainties.

Some things had been gained. People selling handmade pins had gotten Thomas’ attention and admiration, an array of new accessories decorating his button-up shirt. Before the actual march could begin, amongst the people handing out flyers, he had found someone selling a full-size bisexual flag, for what you were sure was an inflated price.

But the price hadn’t mattered to him - his mood was too good to be spoiled by anything.

While you had been internally taking the whole scene in, he had set into the experience with immediate enthusiasm. He hadn’t held back, it was like when he was the first member of the friend group to head for the dance floor, dragging you along because he couldn’t simply enjoy himself standing still. It drew you in every time, making you feel the rush that could block out your self-doubt. The thoughts that could slow you down were drowned out as his confidence brought you into fully-inhabiting the moment with him.

It magnetised others and intoxicated you.

And it didn't stop as you walked into the apartment - he had so genuinely enjoyed his day, this high might hold on. You weren't sure that you had the most fun, even though the event had held such significance to you.

“The question is- what kind of sign would we make?” He asked, making you pause as you wondered what steps in the conversation you had missed because his query had come after a period of silence. This didn’t relate to the last thing you had said. Had he been carrying on a conversation with himself, carefully mulling the decision over?

You watched him lock the door, waiting for him to clue you in on this conversation. He turned around to face you. "What are you talking about?"

"The next march that we go to, we've gotta have a sign, but, like, what type?" He asked, pausing to unlace and remove his shoes. "There were so many great ones, I didn't realise there were all these different types of protest signs.

“Do you think we should do a funny one, like, a meme or a Simpsons reference? Or some kind of artistic one?” He asked as he came towards where you were leaning against the wall. “Of course, being the superior drawer, you would have to take the lead on that. But I would help you out with the brainstorming, happy to…”

He didn’t get to finish making his point because you couldn’t keep yourself from pouncing on him. You put an arm around his neck and pulled him in closer, placing your hand to his cheek so that you could guide him in for a kiss.

It was the kind of kiss that it seemed like you had been waiting all day to give him. It was the kind of kiss that completely disregarded the preservation of makeup. It was the kind of kiss that existed outside of time. You sank into it, pressing your chest against him as his arms wound around your waist. His tongue teased your lips apart and you couldn’t hold back a little moan, you were so keen to get to indulge.

You leaned away, seeing a smile on his face even before he’d had the opportunity to open his eyes. “I love you, baby.”

He gasped, feigning surprise. “That’s crazy, I was literally just about to say that same thing to you. It’s like you read my mind, or somethin’. How did you do that?”

You laughed, nuzzling your nose against his. “I’d love to tell you, but there’s certain secrets of the gay agenda that I simply cannot share. Not yet, at least…”

His eyes moved slowly over the details of your face, as if he hadn’t spent the whole day with you in his line of sight. “Oh-no, sorry.” He curled your hair behind your ear. “I messed up your lipstick.”

“I couldn’t care less. This makeup has been well-documented, and that’s such an understatement, it’s not even funny.” You said.

This day would forever remain with clarity due to the copious amount of photos that you had taken, capturing it from all perspectives. There were cute selfies, your cheeks pressed together as he wanted to try seemingly every filter on Snapchat. You had taken photos of him standing alongside the protestors with the signs he thought were the best. He had taken photos and short videos of you marching with the crowd. Something that felt as thorough as a photoshoot had taken place with his phone camera pointed at you as he instructed you on how to pose with your new flag - you would be surprised if there was any memory space left on the device after that.

“Do you want me to take your makeup off?” You asked.

“Yes, please. All of the times that I wanted to rub my eye, but I couldn’t.” He said, following you over to the desk where most of your beauty supplies were stored. “I’ve been literally dying.”

You smiled, positioning yourself in front of the chair he had sat upon. “My poor baby.” You brought forward the pack of cleansing wipes, pulling one out. “But it was worth it, right?” You started by cleaning around his mouth, wiping away the mess made by your bright lipstick. “You were swimming in compliments, like so many people.”

He couldn’t keep his hands to himself, resting one on your hip, his thumb stroking tenderly. “Only because of the makeup that you did.”

“Thank you. Thank you for this whole day.”

He shut his eyes, allowing you to wipe away the colours that had been decorating his eyelids. “I gotta thank you, and not just for the kick-ass makeup that everyone loved…” The bright colours lifted away from his pale skin, but some flecks of glitter remained. “Thank you for trusting me enough to share this stuff with me.

“You never shut me out…” He said and opened his eyes to look at you now that you were cleaning the highlight off his cheekbones. “And I’m so grateful to know you, all of you.”

You took the makeup wipe away from his face, letting that arm go limp as you gazed upon him. He blinked at you, seemingly waiting for you to say something. But you couldn’t speak, just feeling your heart swelling up in your chest. You were flooded with emotion, propping yourself up on the edge of the desk. You didn’t think you had the correct words, nothing was fitting for this significant moment.

“You’re…” You put the wipe aside and placed your hands on his cheeks. “You’re just the…” He smiled as you fumbled through your thoughts. “You’re the best boyfriend ever, do you know that?”

He pushed his fingers through your hair, leaning in closer. “Only the best for my babygirl. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He lifted his ass from the seat, drawing in until he could kiss you. You sharply inhaled before melting into the kiss. You caressed your fingers over his cheeks as he wrapped his arms around your middle.

You never wanted this kiss to end because it finally gave your emotions a place to land. You tilted your head, following him deeper as you wrapped an arm around his neck.

You didn’t distress over the words that wouldn’t come. Now he was drawing whimpers from you as his tongue glided into your mouth.

You arched your back, pressing yourself firmly to his chest. You only pulled back when you felt his hands on the bottom of your tank top, seeking to get under it. You let him remove it from over your head, before instantly resuming kissing.

This passion was punctuated by your efforts to remove clothes, until you were equally naked before each other. You positioned your ass on the desk, parting your knees as you faced him. 

His eyes drank in the sight of you, sweeping up-and-down to rediscover all of those parts that he favoured. You put your hands to his sides, feeling up the ridges of his thin figure as he moved in closer, close enough for you to feel his body heat again. His hands went to your cheeks, brushing his fingers softly over your face with his thumb moving across your bottom lip. You parted your lips, anticipating a kiss.

Instead he moved away a little. “I’m gonna grab a rubber, be right back.”

In addition to catching your breath, you took this time to wipe off your remaining makeup. You couldn’t imagine that its current state would be very seductive to your boyfriend.

You had remained on the desk, not wanting to rupture this perfect moment - although unplanned, this was clearly the fitting conclusion to this wonderful day. When he returned, it was to place himself between your legs again. Your hands went to his cheeks as his mouth captured yours in a kiss.

His hands ghosted down your sides, making you feel so small, so ready to be consumed. His hands kept moving lower until he was grasping at your bare legs. He fit his fingers into the ditch behind your knees, beginning to lift. You allowed your body weight to be shifted back as your legs went up. Your ankles went onto his bony shoulders, kept here to rest. You felt your wet cunt opening as you kept covering his lips in kisses.

His hands went to your waist and he whined against your mouth as he leaned in closer. You tilted your pelvis as he grinded into you, his skin pressed to yours. The muscles in your legs started to tense when you felt his tip lining up with your slicked entrance.

He started to sink inside, his body pushing against your legs and you were rapidly losing your breath. Your walls fluttered excitedly as he stroked in deeper. You were soon feeling his hip bones digging into the squishiness of your thighs. You put one hand into his hair and used the other to hold onto the edge of the desk, hoping to brace yourself.

He let you set the pace, tensing your body so that you could swing your hips up. You broke the kiss, gasping for air as you concentrated on your movements. Your hand gripped into a fist around his hair as the pressure inside of you grew. You were thrilled by the sensations swarming your body, absolutely ready to come undone for him.

“Fuck.” You sobbed as his hips snapped into you faster.

You looked at him and found that his eyes were mostly shut, the lids rapidly fluttering as he got lost in ecstasy. But when he saw you were watching, he fought harder to get his eyes open, to meet your gaze. His features, that were marked by effort, became lit up with a smile and you could see sparks in his hazel eyes.

This extra level of connection gave him some inspiration and you felt his thrusts come in faster again. This new pace had your gut clenching and you started to bite into your bottom lip as your chest heaved. You twitched and writhed into him, listening to the quick collisions of skin-on-skin.

“Ah, Thomas.” You whimpered.

There was a strain in your leg muscles, with the limbs being unnaturally pinned to your bare chest. But this discomfort, and any other thoughts, were banished from your mind when he found a way to bury the head of his cock in deep enough to collide with your g-spot.

You let out a surprised cry as your hips (working of their own accord) leapt up higher, your ass leaving the desk momentarily.

Your inner-walls spasmed and for a moment the world stopped, with you almost seeing the control leaving your body. It was replaced by impulses and excitement.

“Yes.” He moaned, pressing his body weight into you.

He savoured this new depth, moving his dick in sensual strokes, with his head lingering at your sweet spot. He spent less time rocking back, maintaining the friction was no longer the priority.

This new, more thorough tempo had you squeezing your eyes shut as tremors raced through the muscles in your legs. He was getting you to that place of too much, your toes curling as your body kept at that tempo with everything you had.

“Please.” You wailed. “Please don’t stop, babe.”

You twitched as the pressure in your cunt and your chest increased, taking you over. You listened to his raspy moans as you concentrated on the connection between your bodies.

The brightest and most spectacular colours danced in the darkness behind your eyelids as you started to dissolve into the pleasure. With this most intimate massage, he took you up to and then over the edge. You cried out as you let go entirely.

You flinched and shook, your limbs aching to be repositioned. Clumsily, you brought your ankles down from his shoulders to wrap your legs around his waist. You clenched your thighs and arched your back, bucking into him quicker, with renewed vigour. Your whole body was filled with tingles as you chased his orgasm.

“Yeah, oh fuck…” He whispered, beginning to match the jerking of his hips to his words of praise. “Yes, yes, oh yes, yes, yuh- yes, yes.”

You grabbed for his shoulders with both hands, clinging to him as your body was rocked by incredibly powerful aftershocks. You were quivering but you refused to be taken down, your heart thundering in your ears. You kept moving your body to serve that desperate speed. His breath was hot on the side of your face and his hands gripped your hips.

“Yes, yes, yes, oh yes.” He whined as he continuously guided you along his shaft. “God. I love you, oh babe…”

“I love you too.” You responded, this sentence punctuated by a needy moan that came from deep in your chest.

“Fuck, I’m so close.” He said through heavy breaths. “Oh, fuck.”

You did your best to meet every one of his thrusts, even as he plunged into a faster, frenzied tempo. You ignored the unhappy creaks of the desk as you put your hands to either side of his face.

You started to kiss him, getting weak kisses back as he struggled for breath. Your pussy kept clenching around him, the sensitive walls so receptive to the strokes from his cock’s swollen head. He hummed and groaned against your mouth.

With a couple more jolts into you, he reached the climax and fell out of the rhythm. You covered his mouth in more lasting kisses as you felt his body slumping a little. He leaned against the desk for support as he wrapped his arms loosely around your torso.

“Fuck.” He croaked, resting his head against your shoulder as the two of you struggled to get your breath back.

“I love you.” You rushed to say. “I love you so much, Tommy.”

He looked at you, strands of hair stuck to the sweat on his face and he smiled. “I love you too.” He gave you a quick peck on the lips. “Let’s shower, yeah?”

“Genius idea.” You said.

“And we can talk some more about the kind of sign we need for the next protest.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[filthforfriends]

Satin, Lace, and Other Pretty Things

Reviving this fic for part 4!

Thomas x fem reader

Word count: 3.6k

CW: Its kinky!!

Digging through what you affectionately referred to as your little box of horrors, was even more fun than you anticipated. You’d forgotten the full contents of your sex toy collection since you’d moved in with Thomas and stuffed it at the bottom of a closet. He had a barricade up that you were always testing the bounds of, trying to gently work around. Anal fingering? Fine (as long as you didn’t really talk about it). Rimming? Nope. 

Thomas made up for this with orgasms galore, so you were far from bored. However, you also knew that wiping out a 10 inch neon green dick and balls with a suction cup at the base would just intimidate, and maybe also traumatize him. So you kept the more adventurous items in your collection tucked away in case they became appropriate later on. At the bottom of this innocuous looking plastic container, was your strap on harness. It was simple, because that's all you could afford when it came to quality leather and an adjustable o-ring.

You sat with your back to the wall, amongst phallices and vibrators spread out on the hardwood floor, running the black straps through your fingers. Tragically, this harness hadn’t gotten much use, and it was time to rectify that. After a few minutes of snapping dildos and o-rings in and out of place, your suspicions were confirmed: nothing here was small enough for Thomas’ comfort. 

There’s no point in having skills without the tools to match, so you skimmed reviews of a few sex stores. After you’d determined which had the most extensive merchandise, came the question of where to put the harness. Obviously everything else was tucked away under two boxes of CD’s kept for sentimental reasons and your summer sandals. But should you leave the harness out so Thomas could get used to it? 

Tossing it on the bed to feign casualness was the bold option, but maybe excessively so. Perhaps with your other toys in the night stand? To avoid giving him a heart attack, you fold it next to your lingerie in the dresser. The placement gives him the opportunity to close the drawer and pretend he’d seen nothing. Plus Thomas’ intentions were already nefarious if he was rooting around in your underwear drawer. A far better alternative to reaching for the lube and finding your hand tangled in a pegging harness. Thomas would be so full of excitement and anxiety that he’d simply spontaneously combust.

Getting him put back together this afternoon had been challenging enough. After a few minutes of cuddling, Thomas’ suggestion to shower together almost derailed all progress. He had been absolutely insistent that you cum too. Nevermind your explanation that his pleasure was reward enough.

“I’m not expecting an orgasam.”

“Well I have an expectation of myself that I will give you an orgasam,” he insisted.

“Thomas I can’t cum knowing I’m holding up Maneksin’s meeting with the biggest fashion brand in the world. Too much pressure!”

“Well if you’re struggling to cum, then I am holding up the Gucci fitting,” he emphasized. The argument was ridiculous, but so endearing that you laughed.

“You’re insufferable,” you huff, affectionately. “Alessandro looks like Jesus, I can’t disappoint Jesus this way.” You’re already giving in, letting Thomas tip your face towards his by holding your chin between his thumb and index finger. 

“Remember that I was an altar boy. I think he’ll make an exception.” Thomas kisses you softly at first, like an invitation. 

“Are you sure?” Kiss. “Because -” Kiss. “Smiting and all.” Kiss. His mouth grows more passionate as he tries to shut you up. Thomas backs you around the bathroom door frame, into the bedroom. “Don’t wanna -” Kiss. “Risk it.” 

“Please stop talking.”

“‘Kay,” you grin. No one can say you didn’t try. Just when you’ve settled on pissing off Sony, Gucci, God, and everyone, Thomas’ phone rings from the kitchen. He lets out a heavy, irritated sigh, smacking your ass for good measure before he bounds out of the room. Holding your breath to listen, you recognize his business tone.

“Is it Jesus?” you call, humor only loud enough to reach Thomas’ ears and not whomever he was talking to. When you enter the kitchen he’s leaning against the sink, smiling even as he speaks in a monotone. 

“Alright, thanks.” He beckons with an outstretched hand, folding you into his side. You wrap your arms around his waist and eavesdrop, feeling snug and affectionate.

“-- important in the industry. Even taking you guys on was an act of good faith.” Thomas sighs and rolls his eyes.

“I know this, I know.”

“They had a dozen more high profile options. You’re here because of the aesthetics, it all serves a marketing purpose. So this meeting you need to be extra gracious.”

“When has my professionalism failed you?”

“What I’m saying is unless you hate it, don’t ask them to redesign. Smile say ‘it’s an honor to represent your brand.’ It’s about centering a modern interpretation  –”

“Of Italian style,” Thomas droned, hitting his head against the cupboard dramatically.

“Supporting their vision. Being the vessel for their vision.”

“You’ve already prepped us on this.”

“Well it’s important enough that it bears reminding,” he snaps. “Considering you’re not in the car on your way right now, you do need to hear it.” Thomas grimaced and you stifled a giggle behind your hand. The rep from their talent management continued ranting and Thomas held the phone away from his ear.

“What the fuck does he want me to say?” he whisper-yells in exacerbation.

“Say that you’ll be the perfect brand ambassador.” He nods, sighing and giving a few more mindless affirmatives.

“I’ll be the perfect brand ambassador, I promise.”

“I won’t let anyone in the club puke on the Gucci clothes,” you add.

“And I won’t let any –” Thomas stops himself and ends up shaking with a silent chuckle that shows his gums. “Alright, I’ll leave right now. Thank you so much, Nico. Yeah, bye.” Once Thomas was out the door, you got to refocus your attention. Putting on some innocuous clothing, you drove to Peaches n’ Cream, an establishment not to be confused with an ice cream store. Sex stores intimidated most people, but you felt oddly comfortable. No retailer had better, more knowledgeable customer service. Not to mention shopping for your boyfriend was straightforward: just get the smallest size of everything. 

“Baby, are you home?” You didn’t expect him to be, but wanted to check before casually dumping a dildo and butt plugs on the dining room table. Of course the house was empty, which gave you time to situate your new O-ring and strap on. The snaps were stiff, so it took a couple minutes and some of your sanity to get them pried open. However, great struggle reaps great rewards, and soon you are adjustinging the harness in the hallway mirror.

There was nothing quite like the rush of power from wearing a strap on and harness. You had all the equipment for any feasible activity at your disposal. Just fantasizing about the possibilities while wearing a cock was fun. Thomas undone and grabby, sweaty hands slipping off your hips while his brow furrowed. The attached dildo was comically small, and you almost felt silly posing in front of the mirror, but this wasn’t about your preferences and you’d never make your boyfriend feel that his capabilities are inadequate.

When he finally gets home, you’re doing skincare in the bathroom, trying to keep yourself conscious. If he takes off his boots it’ll rouse you again anyways, might as well be awake to greet him. Thomas pokes his head around the doorframe. 

“Hey, sorry for keeping you up,” he winces. 

“It happens, baby.”

“Okay, I’m gonna change.” Thomas blows you a kiss with a wink before disappearing down the hall, to the bedroom. When you follow behind not thirty seconds later, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, cock in hand. 

“Well, isn’t this familiar,” you chuckle. 

“Oops.” Thomas is bashful at getting caught, his motions slowing to a stop. “You were so tired, but I’ve been thinking about the underwear all day and now I’m just…I was fighting not to get hard the whole time.” You snort at how receptive he is, propping a couple pillows against the headboard so you can sit comfortably. As you climb onto the bed, Thomas desperately waits for direction. Submission came so naturally to him. He probably didn’t even realize that he was deferring power your way.

“Would you feel comfortable with me being part of this?”

“Jacking off?” he asks in confusion. 

“Mhm, remember what I said this morning? Can I watch you practice?” He thinks about it, eyes cast downward.

“I don’t really feel like practicing right now,” he mumbles.

“What about sitting on my lap?” You try to make the request casually amidst all the internal screaming at the thought of his masturbating while seated on your thighs. 

“Yeah, okay,”Thomas nods, face open. It’s clear he feels comfortable with this request in a way he didn’t with the other. Maybe he wasn’t ready for that vulnerability right now.

“Take off your bottoms so you’re comfortable and straddle.” Thomas wiggles out of his jeans and slides his boxers off. He stands next to the headboard. His physicality is cautious as he crawls onto the bed. You pat your thighs with one hand and use the other to beckon him forward. It's a position he’s likely never taken before, which is why Thomas is so awkward when he swings a leg over. In the process of shifting, he falls onto his hip, hand slipping on the comforter.

“Sit back on your heels and take a deep breath.” While Thomas obeys you run your hands along his flank reassuringly. Finally, he begins to settle. He looks at you, his cock, his hands, and his shirt where it brushes the head of his shaft. He looks, but he doesn’t touch himself without prompting.

“Kitten, I need you to really listen for a moment.” You take Thomas’ face between your hands and his attention is singular. “I am so proud of you for saying no to me just now. I am beyond thrilled that you feel comfortable doing that. Thank you.” He nods wordlessly, shoulders hunched forward as he tries to make himself smaller. In Tommy’s dreamy, round eyes is a plea for direction. 

“Lube, then you can touch yourself.” Thank god you’d been the one to discover this side of him, to teach him about it. Someone who didn’t love him as much as you did might not be so careful. Or they might judge him, shame him, and he’d stuff this beautiful, vulnerable part of him back down for good. While Thomas begins working his cock with a slick hand, you’re trying to quell the raging inferno that burned within. He looked so pretty stroking himself like this.

“You did the exact right thing, kitten. You did such a good job.” Nodding repeatedly, Tommy runs his forefinger and thumb over the just ridge of his cock frantically. His grip is so tight on the upstroke Thomas accidentally hurts himself and grunts in pain. In his widened eyes, you can see how much he wants to believe you, coupled with surprise at the strength of his own arousal.

“Be gentle with yourself, kitten,” you warn. His hand slows but the head of Thomas’ cock is already crimson. He pouts his bottom lip and screws his eyes shut while letting out a pitiful whine. Something has awoken inside Tommy and he was intimidated by it. You could feel that he wanted you to fix it even though he couldn’t put a name to it himself. 

“Closer,” you encourage, pulling him in by his hips so Thomas was flush against you.

“But it's gonna get on your shirt,” he protests, transitioning into fucking his own fist. 

“That’s okay! I can change my shirt, baby.” You get a hand in his hair, run it to the back of his neck while your other grips his glute. Tommy’s eyes flutter and he whines for something more. You wrap your arms around him, rubbing his back, kissing his chest, but his sounds just become more insistent.

“Kitten, you’re going to have to be patient while I learn how to take care of you.” He falls totally silent which wasn’t the goal at all. “No pretty kitty, keep making your sounds for me. Don’t deprive me of that.” Thomas switches to stroking his cock. His hand makes wet, intimate noises and you can smell the pre-cum. He’s even more vocal, moaning and whimpering for your benefit. 

“Good girl. You’re such a good girl, aren’t you, Tommy?” His chin trembles, but Thomas stays silent. “Answer me. Aren’t you such a good girl?” 

“Mmm mhm,” his mouth falls open in pleasure. It was so rewarding to wrap Thomas in all these affirmations. You’d never praised someone more responsive. His cock is engorged to the point that you can see each vein contrasting with his flushed skin. He must be aching.

“Yes you are.” You manage to get his shirt off now that he’s stationary, which leaves his nipples available. You lean in slowly, so close that your warm exhales raise goosebumps on his skin. Thomas’ eyes open and he arches to get your mouth on him. In response you place a hand on the center of his chest, forcing him not to rush.

“Can I play with my pretty girl’s pretty nipples?”

“Yes!” he blurts, then looks surprised at the volume of his own voice. Testing his relationship to pain, you bite lightly instead of suck.

“Ah huh ah, fuck. Fucking fuck,” he cries out. Tommy’s expression isn’t one of discomfort or pleasure, it's something else. Overwhelm. He’s not ready to explore this, not by a mile. You shush him soothingly, switching to the other side of his blushing chest with just a kiss.

“C - can you help?” He’s using what you’re coming to recognize as Thomas’ little voice, his submissive voice.

“I’d love to take care of my kitten,” you purr. Tommy grabs your hand and thrusts it between his legs. He raises it up under his ball sack so you’re cradling the weight in your palm. 

“Uh huh, mm,” he moans, while yanking his cock roughly. The sound is so pornographic that you can negligibly feel yourself get wetter from that one noise alone.

“Be gentle with yourself.” This time it's a demand without your usual warmth. Thomas starts paying attention to his whole length, not just abusing the tip. 

“Good listening. Is this what my kitty needed?” You cup his sack snuggly in your palm. The teasing has the intended effect. Thomas grunts and strangles the comforter in his left hand.

“No, kitten, hold on to me.” You pull his hand by the wrist and bring it to your hip. “I’m going to take care of you.” Again, your tone is stern, not affectionate, but he’s so responsive. Thomas’ fingernails dig in through the silk fabric of your pajama bottoms. He leans closer and you can hear the guttural, feminine noises which are barely audible as they leave his parted lips. The fragile skin between his legs is so very soft, delicate even. It’s essentially no effort on your end, but the sensation is viscerally meaningful for Thomas. 

Yet, even with your faces almost touching, he doesn’t go in for a kiss. Because kissing isn’t his heart’s desire. It’s hell not to pin just Tommy to the bed and fuck him for his own wellbeing. Submission is what he really needed. To supplement this urge, you lick and suckle his nipples with lots of spit, then take one under your free hand. Gently brushing your fingertips turns into twisting and pulling. Checking his face for discomfort, you find euphoria, but also tears. Thomas’ hips are twitching without rhythm and you can see him clawing at the edge of orgasam.

“Do you like the way my hand feels on your pussy? Such a good girl for asking me.” He cries out like he’s injured. Tommy is so conflicted, overwhelmed with all he’s trying to suppress and overwhelmed with how much he wants to get it all go and just be. 

“Learning so quickly, kitten. You’re so smart and obedient already,” you coo. At the word obedient, Tommy lets out a sob and his face falls forward onto your shoulder. For his own safety, you get a solid hold on Tommy’s hair to protect his head. Without prompting, he slumps against you in total relinquishment of control. Only Thomas’ forearm moves, and at a frenzied pace. Without the headboard at your back this would just be a pile of limbs. Instead, you can use your grip as a vantage point to speak directly into his ear. 

“You’re gonna cum with my hand on your pussy, pretty girl. Now.” Tommy chokes on a moan, but still manages to nod. “Such good listening. I’m so lucky that I got the perfect kitten.” He cums with a shout that startles Thomas himself.  It's hysterical, primal, the release of a tension whose existence he was ignorant to until the moment of. You may not have been prepared for the volume, but the overall reaction is no surprise. 

Catching most of his ejaculate in Thomas’ dirty makes the moment easier. You pull your boyfriend sideways, parting your legs so he can sit between, propping his head on your shoulder. The ends of his hair are sweaty under your hand.

“Why do I ah - always cr - cry,” he sobs. 

“You don’t always cry baby.” Thomas never teared up when he was on top, but bottomng was rarely a casual experience for him. “Just when there's something you need the sex to help you release.” 

“I don’t understand.” Except he did understand. He just wasn’t ready to face it which is a different thing entirely.

“Well what did it feel like to you?”

“Good. Calm, but intense. Easy but also…I don’t know.” 

“Mhm,” you rock back and forth. “Were there any parts you didn’t like?” After a moment of thought, he shakes his head. 

“I think when you compartmentalized your fetish, you also put away other parts of your sexuality, important parts.”

“Yeah that makes sense,” he sniffles. You reach over to the nightstand and put the tissue box between your knees. Then you just rock side to side while collecting your thoughts. During lovemaking, the risk of revealing something you hadn’t already approved caused Tommy to shut down out of fear. Perhaps that fetish wasn’t the only forbidden desire he harbored.  

“For me, sex has always been easy between us. I want what you want and vice versa. There's no conflict because we’re very compatible.”

“Yeah, same.” Thomas wipes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Now you have to get from the shallow end to the deep end without him drowning. 

“I think that compatibility comes from our…our energies being far apart on the sexuality spectrum. Opposites attract.”

“Uh huh.” He sounds unsure. Totally sensical, given the ramblings he was being asked to decipher.

“Basically you like taking suggestions and I like being listened to, right?”

“Okay, yes, I agree.” He nods and you examine his body language. Thomas’ hands are relaxed in his lap which is a promising sign.

“It's been a struggle to get you to advocate for yourself in bed.” Fingers crossed. “ Is that because you like doing what I say, independently of enjoying the actual activity?” 

“Yes,” he whispers. 

“What if it's something you really, really like? Wouldn’t doing the sex act be better than obeying?” His reaction to the word “obey” is very telling. His cock jumps even as it's becoming flaccid.

“I…then I have to direct the whole thing and sometimes that makes me anxious and I can’t enjoy it. Not always!” he desperately clarifies. “Just…sometimes.” 

“So it’d be fair to say that being in charge is often a turn off for you?”

“Yeah.” His chest was still rising and falling at a semi-normal rate, so you settle on at least attempting to push him.

“Then what would you say is a turn on?”

“It being you.” He’d actually managed to say even less than you thought was possible. 

“Me being the one in control and you being submissive?” It’s the first time you’ve used the s-word. Thomas holds his breath so you stroke his head again, twisting his damp, loose curls around your fingers.

“Yes,” he whispers. “But I know that, as a man, I should want to be dominant.” There it was.

“So as a woman, I should want to be submissive?” That one visibly stumps him. Thomas bites his lip in through and stares at the far wall with a concentrated expression.

“Well, no. You shouldn’t have to…I mean, I don’t care. I do care! I like things how they are.” He slides off your lap so your faces are level, but keeps his legs across your thighs.

“And what if I told you that your submissiveness is the sexist thing about you?” A wide-eyed Thomas goes through a dozen shades of red until even his ears are the color of an overripe tomato. “Have you ever considered that?” He shakes his head slowly, focus falling to his hands. “Hey.” You raise his chin by your pointer finger, then tuck a sweaty lock of hair behind his ear. Carefully, he drags his gaze up to meet yours.

“I already love the parts of you I haven’t met yet. So when you’re ready, I’m ready.”

Notes: I have my blog back after two months of my taglist and almost every social function not working! There might be a couple of fics you've missed out on because you weren't notified and my posts also weren't showing up in tags (crossing my mf finger it works now) I'm SO happy to FINALLY have you back.

-XOXO Eden

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[eyoricka]

Prompt List

I have more time to write now also here is a list of prompts I made based as usual on song lyrics. I would love to write them, so feel free. You can ask for fluff, angst and now even smut, tho the smuts will be posted on my other account dedicated to them ( @sluttyercobra ). If you have any ideas or have a specific scenario in my mind, feel free to tell me.

I'll write each prompt only once, and the ones already used will be highlighted.

Things I don't write : anything related to SA, pregnancy loss, abusive relationship. For the smuts I won't write anything with underage partner, non-consensual sex, age regression.

I just write for Thomas Raggi at the moment.

1 You can't read my mind, so read my lips

2 You got what you been asking for

3 Bet I know what you're up to

4 You just pretend there isn't a problem

5 I wish I could believe you'd never wrong me

6 I got kinda drunk and told her that I liked her

7 Say the word, your wish is my command

8 I think I'm falling and there's nothing I can do

9 I miss seeing the red on your face when I made you blush

10 I can't do this alone

11 Baby if you let me I won’t hesitate

12 I've never met anyone / Quite like you before

13 It was good what we did yesterday

14 However far away I will always love you

15 I can't decide / If I love you more at morning / Or I love you more at night

16 I wish I weren’t single now

17 Your eyes told me, "Girl, come ride me"

18 I didn't know that you were lonely

19 What have I gotta do to make you love me?

20 No teasing, you waited long enough