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#thomas x you
theodorelore · 9 months
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Hey! How are you doing? I saw on your blog that you're up for requests (unless you're not doing that anymore, than that's completely fine!). I was wondering if you could do a Gladers ( it's platonic ofc) x 9 year old female story? Just fluff and stuff, where the gladers start taking care of her a lot. You can start from any point in the Maze Runner timline. Like I said, If you don't have time, you don't have to write this. Have a nice day! :)
- ahh thank you so much for the request!! unfortunately, i don’t write f!readers, but i’m happy to write it gn!, i hope that’s alright:)
- this is loosely based off of the first book
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↱ platonic!glader’s x gn!reader
↱ summary: the creators send a child to the glade, chaos insured
↱ cw: mentions of tears and falling out of trees
↱ a/n: thank you so much for the request! i hope you like it:)
𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥
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the lurching of the metal box was almost enough to make you sick. you couldn’t tell where you were, your back was pressed against a metal wall. you couldn’t see anything, the box you were inside of was pitch black inside, and the only movement of the box was the slight swaying movement.
then it finally stopped, the sudden jolt caused you to slide from where you were against the wall, to the middle of the hard, metal wall. you laid there for a moment, trying to figure out where you were. the only thing you could remember was your name, but nothing else. you had flashes of memories, but no faces or names.
you slowly sat up, your hands touching each side of the box, searching blindly for a way out. you gave up after a moment, realizing that you were stuck. tears started to form in the corners of your eyes, you didn’t know where you were, and you were scared.
after a moment, a loud clank sounded from somewhere above you, and light shined inside the metal box. you had to shield your eyes from the bright light, but you could hear the voices coming from above you.
“is that a child?” someone asked.
“don’t be stupid, they’re too small to be anything else.” another person said.
you moved your hand from your eyes and cautiously looked up. the voices came from a group of boys looking down at you, some looked older, while some younger, but no one looked as young as you.
someone then lowered a rope with a loop at the bottom, so you hesitantly stepped inside of it and held the top of the rope tightly. you were slowly brought up, leaving the metal box behind.
———
your first day in the glade was interesting, to say the least. after the whole “getting pulled out of the box with a bunch of boys who you’ve never met before,” you were in hysterics for quite awhile.
you finally calmed down once the blond boy made everyone go back to work and just sat down with you and explained everything that he knew. he introduced himself as newt.
then you met thomas, who had just arrived about a month before you. he was pretty shy, but you thought he was cool. after thomas, you met gally and minho.
you started to get used to living in the glade, choosing to hang out with newt most of the time, considering that your other options were minho and thomas, both of which would never allow you to enter the maze.
you basically would just walk around with newt while he would go around and monitor what everyone else was doing. he let you run around and go watch other people work, just as long as you told him where you were going and who you were going to be with. you also liked to watch chuck work.
after about a week of being at the glade, you started to wonder why you hadn't started to get the tour of jobs to figure out where you'd work for the remainder of your time there. next time you saw newt, you’d ask him about it.
the next morning, after eating frypan’s great cooking, newt took you to supervise the builders. that was the most boring part of your day, you knew that if he allowed you to get a job, you’d choose to be a cook.
“hey newt?” you asked after a moment of silence, newt had been watching the builders intently, but at the sound of your voice, he turned his head.
“what’s up?” he asked, “are you hungry? we can see if frypan can slip us some scraps.” he stood up, wiping his hands on his pants before giving you a hand to help you up.
“just a little, but that’s not what i was gonna say.”
“oh?” he raised his eyebrow in question, “well, why don’t you tell me on the way to get some food, yeah?”
“sure.”
the two of you walked towards the kitchen and you decide you might as well ask now, “so i know how everyone here has a job, and i was wondering when i get to pick which one i want.”
your question actually stopped newt in his tracks, he turned to you, “you’re too young for a job. and plus, you don’t need one.” he started walking again.
you groaned, “but i want one. can i please get one?” you even tried your puppy dog eyes. unfortunately for you, they never worked with him. only thomas could fall for them.
“why do you even want a job anyway? am i too boring for you?” he asked, so serious that you had to laugh at him.
“i just wanna help around, y’know?”
“what would you even wanna do?” he asked, opening the door to the kitchen for you.
“i wanna help frypan cook.”
“well, i’m sure he’ll help you cook but you aren’t gonna help everyday. deal?”
you hugged him so hard that he let out a soft “hmph”.
———
your favorite time of the day is when thomas and minho get back from running. every time minho sees you, he always gets a stupid smile on his face while he ruffles your hair. thomas likes to get you on his back and likes to run at people while you scream.
it’s even funnier when you convince the three of them to skip work for once and to play tag with you.
somehow, the game of tag turned into hide and seek, and they couldn’t find you for at least a good hour. after that, hide and go seek is banned for the glade. you didn’t understand why, but apparently you had stressed the three of them out to the verge of tears. you’re just too good at the game.
another one of your favorite memories is when minho will tell you stories of the glade. he’s been there a long time, and can tell you lots of different stories about different things. he has to story for everything. you’re sad? we’ll get ready, he has a totally embarrassing story about newt that he’ll share with you. you’re scared? well don’t be, he’s gonna tell you all the good things about the glade.
thomas is the easiest to convince to skip work and play with you. though with him, you once fell out of a tree. you were trying to avoid him making you go to dinner, so you decided the most logical thing to do was to climb a tree.
for a moment, you felt triumphant as you sat atop a tree branch, until it broke and you went crashing to the ground.
you don’t remember much, only thomas’s horrified face looking over yours as he tried to figure out what to do and the tears falling down your face.
you must have passed out, the last thing you remember was newt and minho running towards you and thomas while he tried to shush your tears.
you woke up sometime later, your arm wrapped in a sling with newt’s face standing above you.
“no more climbing trees.”
you cracked a smile, “agreed.”
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pinkandblueblurbs · 2 years
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Congrats on 10k gill!! your celebration is adorable i love the theme, could i request a my melody for first time double penetration with poly!newtmas?
newt x thomas x fem!reader. penetrative sex, anal sex, double penetration, d/s dynamics, praise, dirty talk, light degradation
“Tommy…. I think she might be ready tonight.” Newt muses as he gently thrusts three fingers inside your ass, spreading them slightly to get you stretched. Your eyes widen at his words, and you crane your head back to try to see him.
“Yeah? You think she’s loose enough?” Thomas is standing at the side of the bed, fisting his cock languidly with one hand while the other strokes up and down your back. You can just barely catch Newt’s nod from the angle you’re at.
“She took me back here just fine last night, so she’s still nice and loose from that.” The brit explains, pulling his fingers out of your hole and stroking the excess oil onto his cock. “Reckon she’ll take both of us just fine.”
“What do you say, baby?” Thomas asks, hooking his pointer finger under your chin to guide you to meet his eyes. “Wanna try it?”
“You’ll…. You’ll be gentle, right? Take it slow?”
“Course we will, poppet. We’d never hurt you.” Newt says reassuringly, calloused hand caressing your waist down to your hip. You nod, excitement bubbling up inside you as you offer both boys a nod.
“Yeah, okay. Let’s try it.”
With some maneuvering you get into position, Thomas below you on the mattress, your chest pressed against his, and Newt behind you, gripping your hips and rubbing the head of his cock over your lubricated hole.
“Who should go inside first?”
“Probably me, yeah? Get the tough bit out of the way?” Newt suggests, waiting for your input. You nod.
“Yeah, makes sense. You first.” You murmur, voice slightly shaky with nerves. Thomas reaches up to cup your face.
“Take it easy, baby. If it doesn’t feel good, just tell us, and we’ll stop.” You nod again, and Newt starts applying pressure to your rim, slowly pushing inside you.
“Thaaat’s it, sweetheart. Bloody hell you’re tight. Feel so fuckin’ good for me. Lemme in, just like that.” The slew of dirty praise as you moaning and relaxing enough that he can slide in without issue, bottoming out after a few seconds of steady pushing.
“Alright? Feels okay?” The brunet below you asks, looking up at you with furrowed brows. You nod, letting out a pleasured sigh.
“Yeah. Really good.” You’re already breathless. “Want you too, Thomas. Want you to your cock in my pussy.”
“Fuck, Tommy, can’t turn that down now can you?” Newt pipes up. You can’t see him, but you can picture the smirk on his face well.
Thomas can’t, it turns out, turn that down, and within moments you feel the head of his cock swiping against your clit and then down to your entrance. Made easier by how wet you are, he starts pushing inside you, separated from Newt by only a thin layer of flesh.
“Fuck.” You gasp out, eyes squeezed shut and hands gripping the pillow on either side of Thomas’s head like a lifeline. “Oh my god, Thomas.”
“‘S that good? Or do you need me to stop?” His voice is tight, and though he doesn’t say it, you can hear the hidden prayer of “please don’t ask me to stop” in his strained tone.
“Don’t stop. It feels so- I’m so full.” You stumble over your words, overwhelmed by pleasure. Slowly, Newt pulls out of you, and in tandem Thomas does the same, building up a slow rhythm of alternating thrusts.
“Like this, poppet? Like having two cocks inside you?” Newt taunts, smirking when you nod with a lewd moan. “Such a greedy thing, one isn’t even enough for you.”
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Hello Can you do a Thomas reader when the reader is very affectionate but are afraid to show it her boyfriends. you could do a modern au if you want than you :)
Oooh this is so cute!!! I've never written a modern au, but now I'm just completely in love with the idea. I've got another one in my drafts now lol.
Thank you for requesting ❤❤ hope you enjoy!
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Intertwined
Thomas x fem!reader
Modern au (also made into kind of a college au)
Warnings: feeling of insecurity, bad past relationships briefly mentioned, also language
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You sigh, leaning back in your chair and rubbing your eyes tiredly.
As you check the time on your phone (it's 12am), you see a message from Thomas from just after 9pm.
(9:06) Finished my shift! Text me when you're done studying, I'll walk you home.
You smile at your phone. Typical sweet Thomas.
You type out a quick reply.
(12:02) Hey, ended up staying pretty late, but don't worry. See you in the morning ❤
You pack up your books and laptop, hoisting your bag onto your shoulder and leaving the library.
As you turn to start walking home, your phone pings. I'm still at work, meet me there
You frown slightly; Thomas' shift finished hours ago. Still, you make your way to the cafe he works at.
You arrive at the cafe, and little bells jingle as you open the door.
Thomas' head lifts at the sound, and his face splits with a wide grin.
"Hey," he says softly, watching as your exhausted eyes take him in.
With three long strides, you close the gap between the two of you and wrap your arms around him, dropping your face into the crook of his neck.
"Woah, hey," he lets out laugh. "You 'right?"
You pull away with a smile. "Yeah, I'm good now. How come you're here so late? Weren't you off at 9?"
"Thought I'd wait up for you. Keep Newt company too," he says, jerking his chin over to the counter.
"Coffee, Y/n?" calls Newt. "Decaf, yeah?"
"Yes please," you reply. You walk over to the register, searching for your wallet in your bag.
"Seriously, Y/n?" Newt raises an eyebrow. "Come on, you're part of the family now. It's on the house."
You send Newt a grin. "Thanks."
You turn as you hear Thomas calling your name, patting the seat beside him in a booth.
You drop into the seat, melting into the cushions and immediately slumping against Thomas.
He chuckles lightly, gazing at you as you lean into him.
The two of you stay in the cafe for a little longer, chatting with Newt as you drink your coffee.
Then Thomas walks you home, arm around your shoulder.
⭒----⭒
"How's everything been lately?" asks Thomas. "You seemed pretty stressed last night."
You sigh. "Study's tiring, as usual. But it's alright."
The two of you are having lunch in the park, takeaway bought from a nearby restaurant and an old picnic blanket laid out on the grass.
"Why you you ask?" you raise your eyebrows at him.
"I could tell you were really tired. Don't worry too much about school, okay? It's important, but it's not everything." He turns a concerned look to you, and you warm at the care in his eyes.
"Yeah, I know," you say with a smile. You thread your fingers with his, leaning your head on his shoulder.
"It was a little like this actually," says Thomas.
"Like what?"
"Like, you're usually, you know, you only do this," he nudges your head gently with his shoulder. "When you're tired."
You blink, and the realisation hits you like a punch to the gut.
You pull away instantly, yanking your hand out of his.
"I'm- I'm sorry," you whisper. "I didn't mean to be all- you know. Sorry."
"What? No, hey, Y/n that's not what I-"
But you don't hear his protests and reassurances, you're stuck inside your head.
You've always been a more affectionate person, always big on hugging, laying on other people, holding hands with everyone, whether that's friends or otherwise.
It's just- you've been told before that you're too clingy, or you've made dates uncomfortable by getting too close to the person.
You're terrified for the same to happen with Thomas, the first person you've actually felt like you could fall in love with.
Usually you manage to pull yourself back, but you suppose last night you were just too tired to keep yourself in check.
"Y/n, please. Look at me," you break out of your thoughts as you meet Thomas' eyes.
"I'm sorry," you say again.
"What for? There was nothing to be sorry for. Shit, I'm sorry. I just meant- I know you keep your guard up around me, and I didn't mean to make you worry, I just-"
His hands cup your face as he speaks, and he's got a slight frown on his face as he tries to get you to understand.
"You can be yourself around me," he promises. "I don't care if you're too clingy, or whatever the problem was. I love it when you're leaning on me or holding my hand. And if you don't want that stuff, that's fine too."
You huff out a laugh. "Okay. Thank you."
You reach out and pull him into a tight hug.
"We good?"
"Yeah, good."
⭒----⭒
After getting everything straightened out with Thomas, you've started to let yourself be a little more affectionate with him, and you love the way he always reciprocates immediately.
"Someone pinch me!" gasps Minho, clutching his chest dramatically. "A genuine Y/n sighting, in the flesh!"
"Hilarious," you deadpan, rolling your eyes at his antics as you walk into the cafe.
"Hey, c'mon, we haven't seen you in weeks," says Newt, sending you a grin.
"Exam season sucks," you groan. "Is Thomas here?"
"In the back," Minho points to the kitchen.
You drop your bag into the corner of the booth as you slide in.
"Y/n!" Thomas presses a kiss to your forehead as he sits down beside you. "Hey, can I take my break now?"
" 'course," says Minho, standing to return to his shift.
"I haven't seen you in ages," murmurs Thomas, pulling you into him.
You giggle and tilt your head up to kiss his jaw. "I literally saw you yesterday."
"Day before yesterday," he corrects with a mock-pout. "It's too long."
"Sorry," you say, pulling his hand toward you so you can play with his fingers. "Promise I'll make up for the lost time later, 'kay?"
"You better," says Thomas with a grin.
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A shorter fic than usual, but I loved the slice of life kind of feel when I was writing it. I love writing Thomas cause I always picture him as the cutest, sweetest guy in a relationship ❤❤
Thank you for the request!! Hope you enjoyed :)
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radiantdanvers · 5 months
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Falling for Thomas
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pjisskullourful · 9 months
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︵‿︵‿ 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
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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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seungsvoid · 2 years
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TAINTED THRONE | thomas (the maze runner)
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pairing — thomas x male! reader
summary — since the first day in the maze, y/n’s been getting weird visions. his mind is rattled with them until a greenie a year later pops out of the box like he owns the place. y/n’s visions only get worse from there and as thomas builds himself a reputation in the glade, y/n struggles with everything he thought he knew about himself.
word count — 1335
warnings — cursing, suicide attempt (not really), violence and gore. sexual content references but nothing explicit.
chapters — previous next
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SWEAT GATHERED ALONG HIS BROW, small pants escaping his lips as he limped toward the entrance/exit of the Maze. He had injured himself last week but was trying his best to not let it get to him. Some of the other runners were behind Y/n, all of them wondering how he were still faster than them with a hurt leg. "Almost there guys. Minho's group is meeting us in the map room." He called out behind him.
He exited the maze, noticing Alby talking to someone he didn't recognize at first glance. However, when he got closer to the person, he halted in his steps before he almost fell to the ground. He ushered the other runners to go ahead of him so that he could talk to Alby. "What's up, Shuckface?" He slung an arm around the (taller/shorter) male, all while trying to inconspicuously study the new boy.
"I told you not to call me that, Runaway."
Y/n looked up at him with a soft — yet joking — glare before he looked back at the Greenie. He was (taller/shorter) than Y/n for sure, his eyes were a light blue and several freckles and moles were scattered across his face. His hair was a mixture of being black and brown. He was really good looking.
"Who's this?" Y/n asked, hoping the Greenie would answer rather than Alby. He could sense that the Greenie was hesitant on answering him but Y/n gave him a reassuring look that said he could tell him. "Thomas. My names Thomas."
Y/n gave an amused hum but soon something came rushing through him. He had to hold his head and squeeze his eyes shut. Thomas looked to Alby with wide eyes. He was confused.
"This happens sometimes. Go get Newt, Greenie." Thomas simply nodded before hurriedly running off to find the British boy he had become aquatinted with already. Newt was standing by the gardens, talking animatedly with one of the other Gladers as Thomas approached him. He was slightly out of breath but the blonde still understood what he was trying to tell him.
Y/n lay on the ground now, his eyes wide with what appeared to be either fear, recollection, or both. His chest rose and fell heavily while Alby was squatted next to him, trying to get him to calm down. He wouldn't though.
Scattered memories were making their way through his surface but there was one that just stuck out to him. It was one of the same ones he had the first day in the Glade.
A lady peers down at him, her blonde hair creating a halo that made the younger him think she was to be an angel - only if she hadn't been the one prodding him with needles - and a smile that seemed to be unsettling yet sweet, and comforting at the same time. "Y/n? Can you hear me?" He felt himself nod and before he even had the chance to utter a word, another needle was stuck into his skin and the lady brushed a baby hair away from his face.
“Good. That's good. You won't be down there for too long. Thomas – he'll come down soon after. You won't remember him but that’s the whole point. All you have to remember, Y/n, is that Wicked is good."
"Y/n, never forget. Wicked is good."
Y/n shuddered, moving to sit on his knees with his head between his hands. Shocked gasps fell from his lips and even Newt couldn't calm the (e/c) eyed boy down when he finally came over. When a certain name came from the boy, Alby whipped his head to Thomas, his eyes holding a burning fire. "You. Talk to him."
Thomas pointed to himself confusedly to which Alby rolled his eyes. "Yes you, slinthead! Talk to him."
Thomas didn't know what he would be able to accomplish by talking to Y/n but he was already on Alby's bad side, he didn't want to get deeper in it. So, the blue eyed boy crouched down to him and placed a band on his shoulder, prompting him to flinch slightly.
“Uhm hi –" Newt mouthed 'Y/n' and Thomas nodded, "Y/n. It's Thomas. Are you okay?" Y/n shuddered and shook his head. "What's wrong?" Thomas didn't know how to handle this situation; he assumed he wasn't very good at comforting people.
"I - I remember...."
Thomas looked to the others, his exterior still showing that he was confused. Newt placed his hand on Y/n’s other shoulder. "What do you remember Y/n?"
It took him a moment to reply but Y/n spoke with a shaky voice, "Him. I remember Thomas."
———
Y/n lay on one of the makeshift beds in the homestead, completely unconscious. At the end of his bed sat Newt with a frown plastered on his face. His eyebrows were drawn together tightly as he tried to think of why Y/n would be the only one that was able to get his memories back without getting stung, which before him, was the only way anyone could get their memory back, or at least parts of it.
A knock on the wooden door pulled the former Runner from his thoughts and he turned to look at Alby who offered a tight lipped smile to the second in command. He stepped further into the room and behind him came Thomas who was looking rather upset. "What's he doing here?" Newt stood up and looked as if he was about to attack the new Greenie. "Woah, calm down, Newt. He just wanted to come see Y/n." It took the blonde a moment to allow it but he eventually nodded, albeit reluctantly, and settled back at the end of the bed. Newt had been the closest with with Y/n after Nick's death - which hadn't been that long ago - but he was still extremely protective over the boy; just as Nick had been. He was trying to protect him from something that might've as well been way beyond Newt.
Thomas slowly walked over to Y/n’s bed and sat in one of the chairs placed next to it. An idea popped in his head but he didn't want to risk Newt jumping him. Despite his rather small frame, he looked strong and Thomas didn't know what he, himself, looked like so he didn't want to try him. Instead, he spoke his idea to the two leaders.
"What if I touch his hand? I was just thinking that.. maybe whatever he’s thinking could be transferred to me somehow?" He said a little nervously but still tried his best to look them in the eyes. Alby exchanged a look with Newt and the two of them nodded. "Go ahead." Thomas took a deep breath, reaching out and taking Y/n’s hand in his own. It was slightly cold compared to his warm one but he tried to ignore it as he closed his eyes.
Y/n looked up at Thomas with a light hearted smile as he leaned down to whisper something in Y/n’s ear. Thomas didn't know what he had said but it caused a light blush to cross over the other boy’s cheeks. He (stood up on his tip toes/ pulled Thomas down) to brush some of his dark hair away from his forehead so he could see his blue eyes properly. "You know, you're in desperate need of a haircut, Tommy." Thomas saw himself laugh, a genuine laugh as well, which made him wonder how close the two of them really were. Whenever this was.
"But then you can't play with my hair, Y/n/n."
Y/n smiled and (leaned up again/pulled Thomas down) but this time to plant his lips on Thomas’. What came next made Thomas quickly open his eyes. Even though it was him, he felt weird for seeing that, as if it hadn't even been him doing those actions in the first place. "You alright there, Greenie?" Thomas looked up at Alby with a shaky breath.
“Yeah.. Yeah I’m okay.”
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tags — @bxckbexk @itstuneshere @fitzells @grfields
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hollybell51 · 2 years
Note
hey so i've been binging your maze runner oneshots lately and i was wondering if you've got any thomas x female reader smut... 👀
love your stuff btw, keep up the good work!
Thanks! I was actually planning to post this anyway but you have given me the perfect excuse! Enjoy xx
Dancing
Series masterlist, masterpost
Thomas x fem!Reader
The Scorch Trials (2010 novel - James Dashner, 2015 film - Wes Ball)
Word count: 1914
Summary: you know that party scene from the scorch trials movie? Yeah. That.
Content: intoxication, a party (and the stuff that usually entails), smut (obviously), porn with like a sketchy outline of a plot that's kinda hinted at, handjobs, cowgirl, hickeys, unsafe sex (yikes)
The music of the party carried you through the crowd, sweating, stinking, gyrating bodies pressed against yours on either side. Whatever you’d been given at the door had a bitter aftertaste, and the burn still ached gently in your throat. Everything was so loud, you could barely think. You turned to say so to Brenda, but where she had been by your side just moments before was now simply a wall of flailing limbs and swaying hips, stamping feet and giddy smiles. Thomas was ahead of you, his hand tight on your arm. 
“Stay together,” he’d said before you’d passed through the curtain. You and Brenda had both nodded, of course, but now there was no sign of the other girl. Panic stirred you momentarily. You were in a strange place, with strange people, on the run in a world that either hated or coveted you, your stomach heavy with what very may well be poison. It was far from an ideal situation. 
“Thomas!” you shouted over the noise. “Thomas!” 
“Huh?” he turned, confused. He looked… dazed, unsure. It may have been the heat of the room, the huge mass of humanity surging around, the pungent smell of whatever liquor and drugs were being used combined with the sweat of tens – probably hundreds, but you were starting to feel a little odd yourself. 
“Brenda,” you said slowly. “She’s not…” 
Thomas’s gaze flicked over your shoulder, scanning the room briefly before alighting on your face once more. His hand had shifted to your own, his grip much gentler now. The light was playing tricks with his eyes, making them shine like liquid gold. It was mesmerising, watching the colours shift and move over his skin like the crowd around you. “She’s…” he started, but trailed off. 
Who was he talking about? What were you looking for? You knew you had to find something, that you’d come here for a reason, but now the colours had wrapped you warmly in their soft embrace and were carrying you into the crowd, where your body was theirs and your mind was at one with the sway of the music. You could feel the rhythm of it in your bones, every note and beat and chord vibrating through your very cells. 
“Thomas,” you said softly, your own hands running over his chest almost of their own volition. He looked otherworldly, swaying gently before you, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. His eyes snapped open and he looked at you, hazy and dazed but peaceful. God, it was the first time you’d seen him look peaceful in a long time. 
“(Y/N),” he whispered back, his own hands sliding up your sides and coming to rest on your hips, pulling you into his swaying dance. You stepped closer, almost chest-to-chest with him, your bodies moving in perfect tandem with the music. The energy of the room washed over you with every wave of sound. 
Thomas was so close, his dark eyes boring into yours, heat radiating from his skin onto your own. He moved with such easy grace, every shift of his form perfectly aligned with yours, not a single fibre out of place. Yet his motion was free and unrestricted, relaxed and natural in the way that water flowing over a river bed is. And like a tributary feeding into the larger whole, your movements matched his as you let him guide you, bumping gently against him every now and then, each time sending a jolt of sparks through you. You wanted to touch him, wanted to erase every inch of space between the two of you. And judging by the way he was holding you closer against him, running his hands over you and looking at you so intensely you imagined there was a physical tunnel of attention between your eyes and his, he felt the same. 
Eventually, inevitably, there came a point where he was so close that you could literally feel his skin breathing. You could feel the press of the cloud of electrons in your atoms repelling the electrons in his, feel every tiny change in the currents of air between you. And then even that gap was gone, and his lips were against yours, his hands in your hair, his torso pushing against you. It was a kiss, but it wasn’t. It was much more than that, because you kissed him with your whole body and your whole mind. All you were was in this union, this touch, and all he was was being poured right back at you. 
“Fuck,” he murmured against your lips. “Fuck, (Y/N).” 
“I want you,” you breathed. If possible, his eyes grew even darker. 
“I want you,” he echoed, still barely an inch from your lips. In an unspoken agreement, the two of you slid through the crowd to a curtain in the wall, never breaking contact, barely ever more than a few inches apart. The room beyond the curtain was as dim as the outside, the colours more red and pink than gold due to a crimson curtain strung over what you assumed was a window and a purplish-pink glass lamp standing in a corner. The music was dimmer here, but only slightly. The bass still pounded in time with your own heartbeat and Thomas’s. No sooner than you were inside, he was kissing you again, his hands roaming your face and neck. He had large hands, you observed, one was enough to cover your whole cheek and most of your neck. 
You slid your jacket back over your shoulders, wanting nothing more than his skin on yours. In no time his shirt was off, followed by your own, and he was pulling you backwards with him onto a couch in the corner. It was made of something soft, maybe velvet, and had arms that were perfect for you to grip as you straddled Thomas’s lap. He was resting against one such arm, peppering your neck with kisses, the occasional nibble. You could feel him stop to concentrate on one spot every so often, no doubt leaving a trail of dark marks over your skin. No matter. 
“Thomas,” you sighed softly as his fingers found your bra clip, fumbled momentarily, then slid the garment off you. He brushed over your breasts, leaving goosebumps and hardened nipples behind. Your fingers tangled in his hair. His skin was warm, slightly sweaty, and so soft where it brushed your own. You touched his face, his neck, his shoulders, his back, his chest, down to his stomach where you stopped. 
“Keep going,” he said, his voice raw with want. “Please.” 
If you weren’t turned on before, you were now. You made quick work of his zipper, and you spat into your palms before taking his already hard cock in your hands. It was hot to the touch, and fit perfectly into your grip. Throughout it all, his eyes never left your face, but they fluttered closed as you gently moved your hand. “Like that?” you asked, your mind still slightly hazy. 
“Yes,” Thomas moaned. The sound and sight of him like this probably could have made you cum right there. Again, his mouth found your skin, fastening on to the spot where your shoulder met your neck. You continued to massage his cock with one hand, the other sliding around his back and into his hair, holding him close against you. His breath was coming fast, punctuated with tiny gasps and moans of pleasure. “Wait,” he said suddenly. 
You hesitated, your hands not leaving him, but ceasing their movement. Even through the haze in your mind, you didn’t want to overstep whatever boundaries existed between you – if any. “What’s wrong?” you asked. 
“I want to feel you,” he murmured, his hands flitting to the fastenings on your pants. “Please.” 
You nodded, the words sending a bolt of heat through you to pool between your legs. Thomas’s deft fingers made quick work of your pants, and you kicked them off just as hastily, followed by your underwear. His kisses had migrated from your neck to your chest, tracing a path between your breasts. You moved your hips over his length, sighing at the hint of friction it created. God, you wanted him so badly. 
Thomas’s head tipped back as you ground against him, his fingers digging into your waist, your hips, as he tried to guide your movements. “(Y/N).” The way he said your name, he might have been speaking an incantation. 
 You reached between your legs, rubbing tiny circles over your swollen clit, feeling the wetness gathered there. The heat of Thomas’s dick pressed against your centre, adding to your own, and finally – finally – you lined him up at your entrance and, at his nod, lowered yourself onto his length. A sigh escaped you as he filled you, and you were tempted to just stay there forever. But the desire for friction, for movement was stronger. 
“God, Thomas,” you gasped as you rolled your hips over his, his fingers still tight on your skin. He was perfect, warm and real and firm and locked in reverie with you as the music from outside your sanctuary pulsed in time with the beating of your hearts. 
Thomas was looking at you now, studying every line of your body, every inch of your face, as though he wanted to etch you into his memory. And maybe he did, you certainly wanted to capture the moment forever. It wasn’t dissimilar to dancing, how you’d been so in sync the lines between your two bodies had begun to blur until they were erased, and you were here. 
The sensation built in your stomach, and you forced yourself to keep your rhythm even as your mind told you to go faster, to break your steady stride and run, sprint towards the finish line. Thomas was holding you so close to him he may as well have been trying to absorb your body into his, his sweat and spit mixing where his face was pressed into your shoulder as he frantically delivered more hickeys to your skin. You would be covered in them come morning.  He whispered your name, every syllable like a prayer as it fell from his lips. He twitched inside you, and you shivered involuntarily. 
“Yes,” you hissed, reaching down once more to touch yourself. Thomas spilled with a curse inside you, his head falling back and his eyes closed. Fuck, he was gorgeous, and you’d brought him undone. 
Your own climax flooded through you, all your muscles tensing together at once, a shuddering, desperate cry of “Thomas” torn from your throat. You rode him through your combined pleasure, until your legs were no longer shaking and his breathing had evened out. Yet still, neither of you moved. 
Thomas rested his forehead against your chest, his arms circling your waist. You held him, his hair tickling your face and neck where it brushed against you. He gently kissed over the dark marks he’d left on your skin, soothing and warm. 
You weren’t sure when, but at some point he pulled you down to lie half on top of, half beside him on the couch. You sighed at the emptiness when his cock slipped from inside you, but his skin was warm against yours and his breathing was deep and even, soothing. Your eyes drifted closed, the music from the party just beyond the reaches of your consciousness carrying you into a drugged, hazy sleep.
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Text
evemore - T
evermore masterlist | closure | its time to go
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Warnings: mentions of death, ptsd, mental health issues, kissing, blood, violence mentions
Summary: you loved the safe haven but you could never truly get over the events that allowed you to get here and the people you lost along the way.
Wordcount: 1.1k
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It had been three months since you and Thomas had arrived at the safe haven. It was a cold gray November and you were used to the sunny landscape of the maze and this was different. The winds were blowing cold in yours and Thomas’ shared hut and you sat on the bed, blanket wrapped around your figure. 
You two had met after you had escaped from your maze, the two of you meeting at the facility before mourning through the scorch together. 
You don’t know how you would have survived without Thomas, if he hadn’t demanded that you didn't follow Janson then you would have been drained of blood and you wouldn’t be here right now. 
He had fallen for you first when you grabbed a bomb when WICKED infiltrated the rebel base. He had stood by your side then and he had stood by you ever since. 
You’d both been through hardships that no other 18 year old would have gone through, you’d lost countless friends, those you had considered as family. Every day you wondered what you could have done to save Chuck, or Teresa, or Newt. There must have been something you could do. You would replay your footsteps every time, trying to find out what went wrong. 
You both drove yourselves crazy with the what ifs, the only thing that grounded you was each other. So whenever you’d have a nightmare or he would, you would be there for each other. Unconditionally. 
You took a deep breath, staring at the poor excuse of a window in your hut - they were still working on manufacturing glass - as the wind swept through. 
As the cold drove itself into your bones, you wondered if maybe the cold feeling would kill you too. It was a constant fear, they'd already lost a few people to minor accidents: a bacterial infection, a broken leg, and drowning. It was always difficult to bury people, especially when their bodies don’t come back. 
Thomas walked in when you were drowning in your own thoughts, holding plywood to cover up the window to stop the draft. He placed it down and instantly sat down next to you, knowing that something was up. 
“What’s wrong?” He asked, arm wrapped around you and when you didnt answer he sighed, already knowing the answer, “Just one of those days?”
You nodded, leaning your head against his shoulder, “Guess I just can’t remember what I’m fighting for sometimes,” you said, sniffling because of the cold. 
Thomas nodded his head. He knew how it felt to lose people as well and you two were going on this journey together. He had days where he was emotionally exhausted as well and you just had to be there for one another. 
You would constantly rewind the tape back to that moment where you ran into the courtyard in the last city, seeing Newt lying on the floor, blood in his mouth and a knife jabbed into his chest, his eyes open and at peace. 
You’d go back to that moment where time slowed as Rachel fell to the ground, gunshots echoing through the maze and the holes beginning to fill her body, her blood pouring out like a sif. She hadn’t even had time to comprehend it before WICKED were pulling her out, promising that they were ‘saving her’.
You’d go back to the moment where Teresa didn't make it. You wish you’d been there for her and Thomas but you were on that ship, pulling Thomas’ bloodied and bruised body into your arms. The sobs had escaped your mouth before you even realised and before you knew it the building was collapsing and Teresa fell with it. 
You’d go back to that moment when you were walking through the scorch and the gunshot echoed through the deserted land. You had turned back to see Winston's body falling in the distance, like he didn't even mean a thing. 
“Hey,” he said and his soft voice pulled you out of your thoughts that you were drowning in, “We’re fighting for us, for this life that the safe haven has promised,”
You sighed, your voice shaky, “But what about everyone else. They’re not coming back and they don’t get to experience this,” you explained, lifting your head off of his shoulder to look at him. 
He looked at you and sighed, reaching a hand forward and placing it on your cheek, watching as you leant into the warmth, “It’s never going to go away and we both know this, that gnawing feeling in your chest that makes you feel like you’re drowning,” Thomas explained, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips, “But its going to be okay because I’ve got you,”
You couldn’t not think about the cost of it all but for now you just had to pause it and live in the moment. You knew you couldn’t spend the rest of your life dwelling on whether or not you can save them. You just had to let go eventually. 
“I guess so,” you said. 
Thomas nodded, “And the safe haven is better. Vince is going to look for more of the immune soon and we’ll have more people. And there’s already been so much progress, a marriage, two pregnancies. It’s going to get better,” he said. 
You knew that you could count on his reassuring words because even though you were struggling, he was too and you would always be there for him when he had days like this, days where he just wanted to lie in bed and hold you close. 
And whenever you were worried, you thought about him. About the way that he would savage you no matter what it meant and it was enough to get you through the days. It had gotten you through the scorch and then the rebellion and now your escape into the safe haven. 
“They’d be happy for us wouldn’t they,” you said. 
He chuckled lightly and smiled, “Yeah, and you know what baby, theyd want us to be happy,” he said and you nodded at his sentiment. 
Thomas stood up, reaching a hand out for you and you stood up, the floors of the the hut creaking out from under your step, “Just let me hold you,” he said and you smiled, allowing him to pull you in for a hug, “I love you,”
“I love you too,” you said, your words muffled against his chest. 
You sighed as you allowed yourself to melt into his warm embrace. You knew that the feeling was never going to go away but maybe, just maybe, the pain wouldn’t be for evermore because you had each other. 
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tbsangstersgf · 12 days
Text
dreams
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Thomas(maze runner) x fem!reader
contains: angst and fluff- shameless fluff, spoilers to the death cure
Requests are open and critiques are welcome💜💜💜
The Safe Haven. It was nice not to be running for your life for once, searching for food, hiding from cranks. You were finally safe. 
But that didn’t stop the nightmares. Newt, Chuck, Alby and many others were constantly haunting you. You knew that Minho and Thomas were just as scarred as you were. Minho- he’d found his way to cope, he’s always had a lot of friends because everyone wants to be around him, it helps him to not be alone. Thomas and you however, were never very sociable to begin with, especially after all that had happened, and were left with no one but each other for life support. 
In the Glade, Thomas had been one of the few people you could trust. Always putting effort into the things he cares about, showing respect for the people he holds close, and he had become your best friend. 
Newt reached out for you, black veins crawling up his neck and face. 
“Y/n…help me.”
You reach out for him, tears staining your face. 
“Newt!”
As you grab him his face grows angry, and he pulls out a knife and stabs you in your stomach. 
“Y/n, you could’ve saved me. Why didn’t you save me?”
“Newt- I’m sorry” you sob uncontrollably, pain clouding your mind. “Newt! Newt!”
“Y/n”
“Y/n”
“Y/n!” Thomas gently shakes you awake and looks down at you, concern in his eyes. Soft morning light shines through your hut’s windows and reflecting across your room, lighting it up.
“Thomas…” your arms act on their own, and you sit up, pulling him in for a hug. Unable to control yourself, you start to sob uncontrollably. He sits down next to you on the bed and lets you cry into his shirt.
“I could’ve saved him.” You whisper quietly once you’ve calmed down a bit.
“No, you couldn’t have. None of us knew until too late.” Thomas holds you tightly, his voice breaking as he speaks. 
“Some part of me will never let him go, but he would want us to move on with our lives y/n, we need to let him rest now.”
You look up at him through your lashes and smile, a sad smile, but still a smile. 
“I know, I just miss him.” 
He smiles down at you and rubs your back, 
“Me too.”
Weeks pass, and so do your dreams. The Safe Haven grows, buildings and communities being built. Occasionally the nightmares return, but Thomas is always there for you, and you for him. On nights like those you hold him, running your hands through his ever-growing hair, and letting him lay in your lap, and he does the same for you. 
Slowly, you learn to let go of the people you’ve lost, never forgetting, but moving on. Their names are carved into a rock that sits on the beach, nothing but the wind, sand, and occasional visitor for company. 
You and Thomas grow to care for each other in ways neither one of you was expecting.
One night you lay awake, Thomas running through your mind, after what feels like hours but was probably only 20 minutes or so, you sit up.
Pulling on your shoes, you make your way to Thomas’s hut. 
On your way you see someone headed your way on the path between your and Thomas’s hut. With a start you realize it’s Thomas and are contemplating going back to your hut and lying awake all night, but by that point he has seen you, and is waving at you.
You wave back, a smile breaking out on your face as he nears you.
“Bad dream again?” His eyes scan your face for any sign of distress or pain, as you shake your head. 
“No I couldn’t sleep, I was just coming to see if you were up.” You smile at him and he looks you up and down for a moment , “Wanna go for a walk on the beach?” He holds out his hand, looking at you expectantly. Unsure, you hesitate, looking between him and his hand. After a second you grab it and the two of you make your way to the beach. Not letting go of his hand, you walk along you find a perfect spot to sit and stargaze for a little bit.
He tentatively puts his arm around you and you lean into him. 
“You’re my best friend y/n”
“And you’re mine” the combined body heat keeps you warm, and you snuggle closer to him. You breathe in his scent and are content to just sit there, when he lays back onto the sand, pulling you on top of him. 
A moment or two passes with nothing but the sound of your breathing in the air. You push yourself up, an arm on either side of his head, with a smile you brush a stray hair out of his face. “You need a haircut.” You say with a smile.
“I know, but I kind of like it long, is it really that bad?”
“No, it’s not, I just miss your short hair for nostalgic reasons, you’d look handsome no matter what.” 
“Thanks.”
And with that, he kissed you. It was just a short peck, but it was a kiss. And with that kiss, your heart skipped a beat, your stomach somersaulted, and your brain turned to mush. He pulled away, smiling. 
You don’t know when friendship morphed into a crush, and when a crush morphed into love. All you know now is that Thomas is  your home and you’re his home. With a whispered “I love you” you kiss him again, and the two of you lay with each other on the beach until the sun has risen and world wakes up. 
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bells-stories · 7 months
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HEY GUYS! This is my first ever tumblr post but I just posted a new story in my wattpad! It’s called project griever and it’s a Gally x thomas x newt x reader! You can choose at the end who you want, if you want only one or two or all three! But it’s also about….
something awoke you. Opening your eyes you find your self trapped. Alone. And with one word imprinted in your mind. WCKD. when you get to the glade you're automatically different not just by being a girl but something...terrible holds you extremely close to the maze..something monstrous.
Anyways! I hope you go check it out!! Here’s the first couple opening lines!!!
I wake up with a sudden jolt. I felt a shift underneath me. When I opened my eyes it made my head pound and my vision clouded. As soon as I could rise to my feet I started looking at the items around me. Boxes had WCKD imprinted in the sides and eerie sounds moved outside of the box rushing upwards. I went to the edge of the box and suddenly a creature of unimaginable sorts darted at me and I stood there as if the creature was familiar to me. like we had a bond. shaking off the feeling I started opening boxes trying to look for something to help me out of my current situation. Maybe something to block the mechanism from moving upwards but before I could find anything I noticed my surroundings having a filter of red and I looked up to see a solid platform coming up upon me. I went back on the floor as if the top crashed then maybe just maybe it wouldn't crash into me. Then just before it hit the box stopped and top opened. The blinding light made me raise my hand to try to stop some of it from hitting me all to fast then I felt someone drop in and the first thing I saw was a boy with a buzz cut and a utility belt.
Wattpad: bells_stories
Story: Project Griever
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frost-queen · 1 year
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Newt
• The cure 
Thomas
• New Glader 
Gally
•  Run to me 
Harriet
• The Scorch (Fem!Reader)
• The little things (Fem!Reader)
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theodorelore · 9 months
Note
Can you write platonic gladers x gn child reader (8 - 10), like when their in the scorch trials
- this is based off the first part of the scorch trials- i plan at some point to make another part(s) to finish the book. honestly when i started this, i planned to have more written, but then i got 1k words down and decided i could make another part HAHA
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↱ platonic!gladers x gn!reader
↱ cw: none
↱ summary: the very beginning of the scorch trials
↱ a/n: thanks for the request:)
the start
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the first thing you noticed when you walked into the dormitory was how beautiful it looked. after all those months living in the glade, this looked like something out of a movie- even if you hadn't seen one of those before. your saviors led the group of survivors into the main room, saying how on either side was a room to sleep in, as well as bathrooms. 
it was almost too good to be true, you snuck a glance over at thomas, and he seemed to be in shock about the whole ordeal. you felt a wave of sadness when you remembered about chuck, but quickly was replaced by an unrecognizable need for food. apparently, your saviors knew that you were all hungry, and had appeared with pizza.
actual pizza. your mouth started watering as minho grabbed your hand and led you to the front of the line. frypan, who was at the very front, had no issues with you cutting the line. after receiving three huge pieces of pizza, he led you over to a nearby couch, and joined the line.
the pizza was better than anything you could have imagined; the cheese was melty, and the pepperoni was insanely good. newt took a spot beside you, laughing at the amount of pizza sauce on your face. he grabbed his napkin and gently wiped the excess sauce off of your face. you wrinkled your nose at him, taking another huge bite of the pizza. 
"really?" he asked, his face looked disapprovingly, but his eyes showed amusement.
just at that moment, thomas sat on the other side of you, "c'mon newt, leave the kid alone." he told him, reaching behind you to swat at his shoulder. you stuck your tongue out at him, smiling. 
minho was the last to join the three of you, but by the way the three of them were laughing and speaking to each other, it felt like they had been there for a while. you finished your last slice, and not even a second later, thomas was sliding one of his slices onto your plate. you shook your head, trying to hand it back to him, but all he did was claim he was full. you reluctantly finished the slice, ignoring the look on thomas's face.
once the gladers had all finished eating, a woman came in to take the dirty plates away. after she left, another woman came in to show you where you'd be sleeping. the room had about twenty bunk beds inside of it, and there was two bathrooms, each with ten showers. the boys let you pick out your bunk first, you chose a top bunk while thomas picked the bottom one. newt and minho were beside you. after that, the woman said there was clothes in the drawers, so to feel free to shower while there. you picked out some pajama pants and a hoodie, and then spending a good twenty minutes in the shower.
after leaving the bathroom, you noticed that neither newt, thomas, or minho had moved during the entire time you had been showering.
"you guys okay?" you asked, starting to climb the latter of the bunk bed.
"yeah, why?" newt asked as thomas and minho started walking towards the bathroom.
you shook your head, "no reason." you then started to unmake your bed, getting underneath the blankets.
you saw thomas come out of the bathroom and start to unmake his bed. "alright y/n, i'm gonna go shower, i'll see you in the morning, okay?" newt told you, seeing how you were already falling asleep.
"g'night." you mumbled, and then you were out like a light
rough hands grasped your sides, shaking you. you groaned, trying to swat the hands grabbing you, but they didn't let you go. 
"y/n, you need to wake up right now. something's wrong." a voice said, and you opened one of your eyes slightly. only then did you hear the other sounds of what was happening in the room. it sounded like animals were being tortured. then you saw that newt was the one who was still holding you. 
"what's going on?" you asked, trying to get out of his hold.
newt's face was pale, "we don't know, but you need to stay there. don't move."
you didn't have time to question him as he shoved the blanket over your face again, and told you not to take it off, and then he was gone again. you could still hear those awful sounds but was too afraid to try and figure out what it was coming from. 
you could also hear the sounds of newt, minho, and thomas speaking about something, but couldn't figure out what it was being said. 
then you heard something that would most likely stay with you forever. there was a loud bang from somewhere beside you, and then someone saying "kill me!" over and over again. you don't know how long you sat there, covering your ears, and cowering in fear, before newt was beside you again. 
"c'mon," he picked you up, "we're getting out of here." you kept your eyes on the floor, not wanting to see who was making those awful noises.
newt carried you back to where you had pizza the night before, only it was pitch black inside. he let you down, letting you hold his hand instead. they stood in silence before minho decided that he was going to be the one to start looking for the light switches. thomas also started to look, before crashing into a table.
minho must of got to the light switch because suddenly, light illuminated the previously dark room. everyone gasped, looking at the sight in front of them. there were bodies hanging from the ceiling.
thomas tried to cover your eyes, but you had already seen. it was the people from the night before. 
it was a blur after that, thomas and newt was conducting people to look for teresa, while minho was in charge of watching you. they had been in the room that teresa was supposed to be inside of, when the door opened again, and a boy who you've never seen before came walking out with thomas.
minho immediately jumped to his feet, pushing you behind him, "who is that? and where's teresa?" 
thomas just shrugged, "he says his name is aris, and he doesn't know how he got here." thomas turned to walk back out into the common area but stopped.
"are you okay?" you asked, seeing his hesitation.
"the bodies are gone."
after that statement, a loud alarm started, just like the one in the maze.
all chaos broke out.
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marie-swriting · 11 months
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We're Gonna Get Outta Here
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Masterlist
Summary : You're working for W.I.C.K.E.D but you can't take it anymore when your best friend dies during the Maze Trial. With Thomas' help, you give information to the Right Arm and try to get out of the facility together.
Warnings : character's deaths (reader included), guns and gunfire, mention of violent interrogation, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.
Word count : 2.7k
French version on Wattpad
French version on Tumblr
In front of the computer, you’re completing your daily tasks : observing Maze A, testing the subjects and writing down the results of today’s experiences. You comply like a robot. You know if you think too much, you’ll realise all the pain you’re inflicting. So you try to keep an emotional distance with the Maze Trials, with the subjects, with your friends. However, some days are harder than others, especially when, first thing in the morning, you get a file with the word “death” written on it. Sometimes you see those deaths live, other times they happen when your work is already over. When you’ve started your day, you didn’t know another person had failed the trial. Anxious, you open the file and read ‘Subject A25 : Nicolas’. Tears form in your eyes in an instant. You close the folder and pretend you need to use the bathroom. You try to sob in silence but if someone listens carefully, they can hear your pain. You’re short of breath everytime you think back to this paper. This paper telling you about the death of your best friend since you were ten. He’s not the first to die but his death is your last straw. You wish you could scream all your despair, but you can’t. You can’t feel anything while working ; for W.I.C.K.E.D, you’re here to find a cure, not to do feelings. Sacrifices need to be made. You can’t forget it. Janson won’t let you. Your tears are stronger when suddenly someone knocks on the door. You stop sobbing, fearing you’ll be discovered. When you hear Thomas’ voice, you open to him. He stays in front of you for a few seconds before daring to talk.
“I read the file. I’m sorry, Y/N.”
“I’m sick of it, Thomas.” you say, angry, “I can’t watch them die anymore. I can’t watch my friends die anymore. I want it to stop ! I know we’re doing it for a good cause, but do we really need to sacrifice all these human lives for a potential cure ? It is not fair.”
“I know.”
“I want to get them out of there. I want us to get them out of there and leave with them, far away from W.I.C.K.E.D. I won’t be able to take another death, Thomas. I… I can’t.” you pronounce with a broken voice.
Ignoring what to say, Thomas takes you in his arms. He hopes he’ll reassure you but he knows in this kind of situation, it’d be an utopia. You’re doomed to see horrors in the hope to save humanity. Nothing he could do or say would help you to get better. He knows it because he tries everyday to reassure himself, in vain.
“We should go.” you resume, breaking your embrace, “Janson is gonna wonder where we are.”
“You’ll be okay ?”
“Will they ?” you retort, eyes full of pain.
Thomas stays silent, knowing he can’t answer your question honestly. You give him one last look, leave the bathroom and go back to your job. Thomas takes a few minutes before going back as well, a neutral expression on his face. As for you, you use your computer as if a few instants before you weren’t overwhelmed by your emotions. You both act like they taught you.
The next few days, you grieve in silence. Thomas stays by your side even though he feels useless. However, he doesn’t realise it but he helps you to not sink because you tell yourself that despite everything, you still have Thomas. You’re not entirely lost. You still have a reason to go on.
During the night, you both leave your respective dormitory, meeting each other in an isolated room in the W.I.C.K.E.D facility, like you always do whenever one of you is feeling down. You don’t do anything special there. You just cuddle, trying to forget the pain of the world and yours. It’s not successful but you’re there for each other. That night, Thomas breaks the silence with important information.
“I know how we can help them.”
“What do you mean ?”
“You remember Doctor Mary ?” he asks and you nod, “She left W.I.C.K.E.D because she didn’t agree with their experiences anymore. She works for the Right Arm now.”
“The Right Arm, the resistance ?” you want to make sure, looking at him.
“Yeah. I think she could delay some of their plans with the information she had but now, she doesn’t have access to it anymore. If we can communicate with her, we can help them. We’ll give the Right Arm everything they’ll need before leaving.” Thomas states, determined.
“How can we find her ? The Right Arm must be untraceable.”
“I started researching when we learned of Nicolas' death. I think I’m about to find them. It’ll be dangerous but we can get our friends out of these mazes. What do you say ?”
“I’m with you.” you accept, without an ounce of hesitation, “I want to bring down W.I.C.K.E.D.”
You look into each other’s eyes, courage taking possession of your body. You have a plan and you’ll make sure you’ll put it into action as soon as possible. Sacrifices have been going on for too long.
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When Thomas has finally found the Right Arm, he lets you know. During the night, you both get in one of the rare rooms where there is a radio to communicate with the outside and start the call. You’re happy to be so close and yet scared that the Right Arm might not trust you.
“Hello ? I’m Thomas, I work for W.I.C.K.E.D and I got information for you.” he starts the conversation without an answer, “Mary ? Are you there ? It’s me Thomas. I can help you.”
You stay silenced for a few moments. Thomas is about to cut the communication off when he hears a feminine voice.
“Thomas ? I’d never thought I’d hear from you. Are you safe ? Are you alone ?”
“Y/N is with me. We want to give you all the information you’ll need to bring down W.I.C.K.E.D. We don’t want to see our friends die anymore.”
“We want it to stop. No one deserves to be in those mazes. We want to save them.” you add with teary eyes.
“Very well. I’m going to talk with the other members of the Right Arm. I’ll call you back tomorrow around the same time to organise ourselves. Keep a low profile.”
“Thanks Mary.”
When the call is over, Thomas puts the radio aside and turns to you. Even though you have to wait for the Right Arm’s approval, you both can’t help but smile. You have Mary’s support. You’ll be able to get out of here.
“Thanks Thomas.” you say, “You’ve given me hope again. I never thought it’d be possible.”
“We’ll do everything to help them. We’ll do it.”
When the Right Arm accepts to collaborate with you, you and Thomas start gathering important data and communicate with them once a week. You and Thomas give only a few to let them get ready without alerting Doctor Paige or worse Janson.
One night, while you’re getting ready to sleep, Teresa takes you aside, with a compassionate smile on her face.
“I heard about Nicolas. I’m sorry.” she states genuinely, “but we can’t forget why we’re doing all of this. We must find a cure. The Flare is becoming deadlier every day.”
“I know,” you answer without any emotion, “I’m going to bed, I’m tired.”
Teresa puts her hand on your arm, showing you her support. You smile slightly at her before going to your bed. Your friend’s words have upset you. You know Teresa doesn’t act meanly. She told you her story with her mom, you know why she desperately wants to find a cure. But for you, it doesn’t justify the fact that people act as if all these deaths didn’t represent anything. They represent something for you : your cowardice, your impotence, your pain, but above all, your privilege to have escaped the Trials.
When Thomas and you started working for the Right Arm, you had thought of letting Teresa know but your doubts had held you back. Your conversation with your friend proved to you, you did the right thing. Teresa wouldn’t have agreed with your actions, no matter if you’re friends. For her, W.I.C.K.E.D is really good.
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Two months passed, Thomas and you have succeeded to forward information without being noticed. The nights where W.I.C.K.E.D have to handle some crisis, you give more details, allowing the Right Arm to perfect their attack plan. You’re still at the facility, waiting for the perfect moment to run away.
One night, Thomas gives the week’s data before joining you in you and Thomas' shared room. Besides being your safe place, it has also become the place where you wait for the other before debriefing.
When Thomas comes into the room, he sits next to you on the ground. You take each other in your arms and stay silent at first, allowing Thomas to release the fear of being found. When his breath is calmer, he draws your attention.
“Next week, we’re leaving this place. I talked about it with Mary and if we give every known place of their facilities and labs, they’ll have enough to bring down W.I.C.K.E.D so we’ll be able to clear off. You’ll take care of forwarding everything and I’ll take care of making sure we have a way out. They’ll be able to save our friends from the Mazes and take us away from this organisation. Everything is settled.”
“Thomas, it’s risky.” you retort, anxious, “We’re lucky we haven’t gotten caught yet. It’d be too much in one go.”
“We have one week to plan everything correctly. I already have some idea of how we can do it. Don’t worry, we’re gonna get outta here.” he assures you, making you think a little more.
“I trust you, Thomas.”
The following week, your plan is ready. It’s still risky but it can work. You've kept an even lower profile to not give Janson any reason to be suspicious. You do exactly what is asked, without showing any rebellious sign.
When the plan has started, you get every file you need to send, it takes longer than usual. Your stress is at its peak while you’re looking at the downloading line. You can’t stop watching around, afraid to be discovered. For Thomas, he’s on his way toward the control centre. He needs to be sure you both will be able to get out of the facility once you're done. He needs to fight some of the guards on the way, he barely handles them. While he’s doing everything to open the doors, the last data is finally transferred to the Right Arm. You sigh in relief and leave the room. You’re careful on your way to the place Thomas told you to go to. When he’s done with everything for your escape, he hears the walkie-talkie of one of the guards he’s knocked down.
“Need backup. One subject out of the dormitory. Information transferred outside. Janson knows about it. Over.”
Panic takes possession of Thomas’ body, he leaves the room running. He doesn’t try to be discreet, he just wants to find you. You both can’t waste another second, it’s now or never to leave. While he’s looking for you, he finds Teresa around a corner.
“Thomas ? What are you doing here ?” she questions.
“I could ask you the same thing.” he answers, trying to hide his stress.
“I’m working with Doctor Paige after my day. Everything alright ? You should be in your dormitory.”
“I… I need to find Y/N.” Thomas admits, not wanting to waste even more time, “Look, we’re getting outta here tonight but she got caught. Help me find her. If you want to follow us or not, that’s up to you but help me. We just want to leave this place. We don’t want all this blood on our hands anymore.”
“Thomas, I don’t-”
“You’re gonna help me or not ?!” he cuts her off, impatiently.
Teresa doesn’t have the time to answer him that guards are already grabbing Thomas and pushing him backward. He tries to fight them while Teresa is watching the scene, shocked. Thomas is being dragged by force in one of the parts of the facility he knows all too well. They’re going to erase his memory and put him in the maze. He can’t let that happen. He needs to fight. He needs to at least make sure you’re safe. The guards tighten their grip on the teenager, preventing him from moving. When they arrive in the room, they tie him down on a stretcher before ejecting him a product, making him fall asleep instantly. Thomas is changed while he gets more injections, Janson looking at everything they're doing to him. As for you, you’re being interrogated violently. They want to know where the Right Arm is hiding. You stay silent at every punch. You try to recover from an umpteenth hit when you quickly hear a walkie-talkie. One of the guards takes you by the arm and forces you to walk. You don’t look where you’re going, too exhausted. Nothing has importance anymore. You got caught. You won’t be able to escape. You’ll be put on high surveillance or you’ll be sent into the Maze. You only hope Thomas was luckier than you. When you arrive in the room with the guards, they throw you on the ground. You don’t move until you hear Janson’s voice.
“I have to admit you could have gotten away with it. We had doubts there had been leaks but nothing was certain. You knew how to hide your betrayal. But it wasn’t enough. You have been careless today which is why we found you both.”
“Both ?” you ask, hoping you didn’t hear correctly.
“I know very well you weren’t acting on your own, Y/N. Say hello to Thomas. He’s just over there.” he smiles, showing you something behind him.
“Thomas ? Let him go !” you scream, trying to stand up but the guards stop you. “It was my idea ! It wasn’t his fault ! Let him go !”
Your gaze is fixed on Thomas who is trapped in some kind of vertical basin being filled with water. He’s hitting the glass while Janson gets closer to you with a machiavellian smile.
“You were two in on it. You’re going to pay for the consequences of your selfishness.”
“Our selfishness ? What a joke.”
“You tried to fail experience to find a cure that could save humanity for some friends. I think we can say it’s not very charitable.”
“Let him go, please.” you repeat, desperate.
“Oh no ! You’re going to watch his lung being filled with water.” he states, holding your face, forcing you to look at the scene.
Thomas' body is almost fully under water. His head is only above it, allowing him to scream as loud as he can, but the wall lower his voice.
“You're a monster.” you spat
“A man of science, I prefer.”
Thomas keeps screaming, begging them to let you go, but his efforts are vain. The process is almost over and Janson would have never accepted, too proud to have stopped W.I.C.K.E.D’s two traitors.
“Tell me what I can do. If you leave him alone, I’ll do everything you’ll tell me.” you propose.
“Very well. So be a good girl and never speak again.”
When he’s done talking, Janson quickly takes out a weapon and shots you. You don’t have the time to react that your body is already hitting on the ground. Thomas yells louder, even if he’s on the verge of drowning. His tears are getting lost in the basin while he’s watching your blood spreading out on the floor. He keeps hitting the wall, drawing Janson’s attention. He looks at him with a devilish smile. Thomas shows every ounce of anger and frustration until the water in his lungs makes him lose consciousness. Janson sighs happily before ordering someone to get rid of your body and to transfer Thomas into Maze A where his Trial is about to begin.
Masterlist
{This is my side blog so I'll be answering comments under the username @marie-sworld}
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Invisible string
Thomas x fem!reader
Starts pre-tmr and continues through basically the entire plot (movieverse) *but I did take a quick note from the books in how Thomas and Teresa are the Elites of Group A, and Rachel and Aris are the Elites of Group B
Notes: self indulgent songfic, switching povs, constant time skips, super long (4.8k)
Summary (important): soulmate au where you get flashes of what your sm is experiencing from one of their senses. Side note: you get more visions as you get closer to your sm
Warnings: canon typical violence, language (Glader slang and normal swearing)
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[ Green was the colour of the grass ]
Thomas leans back, watching the screens with a small frown as Teresa types something out on a keyboard beside him.
You were sent into the Maze that month, and Thomas has mainly been monitoring you as he usually does with the newest Greenie. He prefers to keep an eye on them and see how they're settling in.
Suddenly, he feels a tug in his chest and his vision whites out. As he blinks, he sees a large grass plain. Tall walls come into focus too, as well as little farming areas.
As quickly as the vision comes on, it fades away, and he's in the monitoring room once again.
"Thomas!" Teresa taps his shoulder repeatedly, a concerned look on her face. "What's wrong?"
Thomas gives himself a shake and takes a breath. "I think... I think I just had a soulmate vision."
"What?" she gasps, incredulous. "What was it?"
"It was with sight; I saw grass... Bright green grass. It was the Glade," he tells her, shell-shocked as he gestures to the screens.
"Oh my god," she whispers. "Your soulmate is in there."
"Holy shit," breathes Thomas, spinning towards the screens.
He moves quickly, hands shaking as he pulls up the full list of Gladers. Subjects A1-A21 are in the Maze right now.
"Is it Y/n?" Teresa asks, eyes wide. You're the only girl in the Maze right now, so she automatically picks you out.
"Well I-" Thomas fumbles for the words. "I actually, um... it doesn't really make a difference for me. The fact that she's the only girl, I mean. I- I'm bi."
"Ohh," Teresa's confused expression clears she understands.
"Yeah..." Thomas runs a hand through his hair, biting his lip as he flicks a worried glance at Teresa.
"Well, that makes it harder for you then," she flops down in a chair, casually scrolling through the list of all boys’ names, except for yours.
Thomas exhales in relief, sending Teresa a small smile, which she returns, squeezing his arm in comfort.
"Did you see a specific part of the Glade? Maybe we can refine the possibilities," she says, finger twisting a piece of hair as she thinks.
"No, I mainly just saw the grass."
"Well that rules out Minho I guess." Teresa points to a screen showing Minho running through the Maze.
"Pity," Thomas responds without thinking.
Teresa snorts, "Yeah, it is."
"Oh, I did see the gardens. Maybe it's one of the Track-hoes, or Gardeners," Thomas suggests.
"Hmmm, but anyone could see the gardens. Look, Gally's building something right there, and Frypan's out grabbing ingredients."
Teresa laughs as Thomas wrinkles his nose at the mention of Gally.
"I mean, hey. You're still luckier than the rest of us," says Teresa, expression wistful.
These days most people just assume that their soulmate is dead; it's unlikely that your perfect person would just happen to be in one of the few safe places in the world.
At one of their meetings with the Group B Elites, Rachel had mentioned hearing terrifying Crank noises in a soulmate vision once years ago, and never heard anything from her soulmate again.
Privately Thomas thought she was lucky to have gotten hearing only, rather than sight or touch given the circumstances.
"I don't know... we'll see," Thomas replies worriedly. "The Maze isn't exactly safe either."
⭒----⭒
[ You ate at my favourite spot for dinner ]
Months later, both Thomas and Teresa have been brought up into the Maze. Unbeknownst to you, the Box had contained your soulmate that month.
But, you've never had a soulmate vision, and to be honest you don't really think about it at all.
You're simply impressed at the new Greenie, admiring his guts as he relentlessly pesters Minho, dead set on becoming a Runner.
You're not a Runner yourself, but most of your friends are in that group, like Minho, Ben, and Newt.
When Newt brings Thomas to your group for dinner, you immediately connect with him. You didn't get to talk to him on his first night, so you're pleasantly surprised to find that he's fun and easy to talk to.
One day, you're in the Runners' hut chatting with Minho. Runners have different schedules to the rest of the Glade, and usually end up eating late lunches since their morning runs finish a little later.
As such, you try to schedule your own work with Minho or Ben's runs, so they don't have to eat alone. Most of the Glade is eating lunch right now, while you wait for Minho to finish adding to the map of the Maze.
Suddenly, you feel a tug in your chest and your vision whites out. Even as you try to blink and clear your vision, you don't see anything. You get a weird feeling and start to... taste Frypan's stew? You're confused as you can sense the distinct flavour of the stew, but feel nothing in your mouth.
The taste then disappears and colour bleeds back in as your vision returns.
"Y/n! Hello? Earth to Y/n!" Minho is waving his hand in front of your face. "What the shuck..."
You come back to yourself with a jolt and a gasp.
"Mother- What the hell was that? I thought you were having a seizure or something!" exclaims Minho.
"It was a soulmate vision," you say shakily.
"Oh shuck. What was it?"
"What was what?" It's Ben, coming in from his shower.
"Y/n had a soulmate vision!"
"Shucking- keep it down!" you hiss.
"Well, what did you see?" asks Ben.
"I didn't see anything, it was a taste one," you tell them.
"Gross." Minho scrunches up his face.
"It was Frypan's stew."
"Hold on... OH," Ben realises.
"What?" says Minho.
"It was Frypan's stew," you repeat. "Which means my soulmate is here, in the Glade."
"Holy... shuck."
"It could be anyone though," you look out the window to where almost the entire Glade is just finishing lunch right now.
"Don't worry, we'll find them," promises Ben.
⭒----⭒
[ Bad was the blood of the song in the cab ]
You turn in a circle, staring partly in wonder and partly in horror at the destroyed city around you.
You and the remaining survivors have split up and are scavenging for supplies in the crumbled buildings, which provide shade in the sun of the Scorch.
"Hey Y/n, Thomas, check this out." Minho shifts a piece of debris aside to reveal a dented safe, with the door partially smashed in. He opens it and the three of you peer in curiously.
"It's just jewellery," sighs Minho.
"Just jewellery?" you and Thomas say in unison. He grins at you as he sticks a hand in to pull out a necklace.
"Look at all those diamonds!" he exclaims.
"And check out this gold," you add, lifting out some large earrings.
"Like crows, the both of you," says Minho, rolling his eyes and moving to look at other things.
"Here," says Thomas, holding out a dainty gold ring with a small emerald resting on it.
You take it with a smile and slide it onto your finger. "Thanks."
"Now, you pick something for me."
You grin as you carefully sort through the contents of the safe.
"Well, this looks perfect," you say, holding up a massive elaborate brooch, studded with diamonds and sapphires and rubies as you struggle to maintain a straight face.
"Ah, lovely," he snorts as you toss the brooch back in the safe.
You dig around and find a ring similar to yours, but with intricate engravings instead of a stone.
"Must've been some rich people living 'round here," he comments. "Oh hey, thanks." He takes the ring from you.
"Woah." You walk over to where Minho is, leaving Thomas with the safe.
"What is it?" you ask when you reach him.
Minho gestures to a case of guns. The glass is smashed in, and the wall the case is mounted on has mostly disintegrated, but the guns are intact.
"Hey, guys, I'm going over to see what Newt's got." You hear Thomas' call from the other room.
"Okay!" you call back, continuing to sort through the weapons with Minho.
"Hey they have knives too," he says excitedly.
Suddenly, you feel a familiar tug in your chest and your vision whites out. You hear a song playing, and you focus on the sound.
'Cause baby, now we got bad blood You know it used to be mad love So take a look what you've done 'Cause baby, now we got bad blood (hey!)
As your other senses return you feel Minho's hand on your shoulder.
"Y/n! What happened? Did you have another soulmate vision?"
"I- yeah." You'd assumed your soulmate was dead after the bloodbath that happened when you escaped the Maze. But apparently they’re still alive, and the options are narrowed down to the small group you’ve got.
“Minho! Y/n! Get over here!” Thomas’ excited call rings out from the other room.
“What was it this time?” whispers Minho as you walk to the others.
“Hearing vision, it was a song,” you reply quietly.
“Check it out!” exclaims Frypan as the two of you enter. “We found a record player.”
You step closer to observe the album cover. “Does it work?” you ask, already knowing the answer.
“Yep, play it again Fry,” says Thomas.
When it plays, you hear the same song from earlier, confirming your thoughts. Your soulmate is right here.
“Pretty cool, huh?” comments Aris.
“Yeah…” says Minho distractedly, looking at you with a worried expression.
He catches up to you later, and the two of you walk at the back of the group, out of earshot of the others.
“So,” he starts. “Aris, Thomas, Frypan, or Newt.”
You nod. “But I don’t think Newt even…” you gesture vaguely. “Girls, you know? It’s one of the first three,” you say.
“Isn’t there some kind of special feeling? You seriously can’t tell even when it’s narrowed down to three people?” asks Minho.
Honestly, you’ve thought it’s Thomas for a while. It’s just- none of your visions have been absolutely focused on one person, and you’re a little worried that maybe you just have a crush on Thomas, and your real soulmate actually isn’t him. You can’t imagine how much that would hurt both Thomas and the real soulmate.
You can already see it; confessing your feelings for Thomas, having an awkward rejection, and then having Frypan or Aris walk up to you, deeply hurt by the fact that their soulmate liked someone else even when they were right there.
It’s just best not to touch the issue right now.
You can still discuss it with your friend, though.
“I mean, I’ve kinda liked Thomas for a bit,” you admit to Minho.
“Yeah? I could totally see that happening,” he says.
“Really?”
“ ‘course. Even back in the Glade, you guys were always… I don’t know. There was something happening between the two of you. Always whispering and giggling to each other. You looked like dumb shanks when you did that, by the way.”
You roll your eyes fondly.
Minho was right; there was always just… something, with Thomas.
At the start, it was just intrigue, which is normal with the arrival of a new Greenie. Then it became admiration for how determined he was to become a Runner. After that, it became a close, friendly bond, which has now evolved into you developing a crush. Great.
Oh, and you might be soulmates.
“You know, he used to change his lunch breaks for you too, Y/n,” says Minho.
“What do you mean?” you ask.
“I mean, I know you were always moving things around so you could have lunch with Ben and I, and we were all just friends.
“But Thomas would do the same for you, and only for you. Hell, he’d always ask for afternoon runs. Do you know how bad those are, especially after lunch? But no, he’d prefer to get a stitch during every run, rather than to miss lunch with you.”
“Oh, that’s… sweet of him,” you say, ducking your head to hide your smile.
Minho rolls his eyes. “Stupid shanks, the both of you. I bet he’s having a soulmate vision of this conversation now, and you’re just both too scared to bring it up to each other.”
“I’m not scared!” you insist.
“Oh yeah? Then go talk to him,” challenges Minho, jerking his chin ahead at Thomas’ back.
“He’s- he’s got a lot on his plate at the moment,” you say. “We all do.”
“And,” you continue, “I want to be completely sure before I go and ask about it.”
“Sure,” replies Minho.
⭒----⭒
[ Cold was the steel of my axe to grind ]
Thomas has been having soulmate visions, there’s no doubt there.
It’s always the same. Tug in his chest, vision goes white.
So far, he’s heard the snoring of Gladers at night, and smelled the soap and stagnant water from the showers (that one had been hard to place; he had to think about the faint scent for hours until he realised what it was).
But, all of his visions have been super vague. In the Glade, he had no clue who they were, and now he doesn’t even know if they’re alive, cause he hasn’t had a vision since escaping.
Right now though, he’s mainly focused on keeping his friends alive. They’ve just found the Right Arm, and he goes to check on Teresa.
She’s been acting weird all day, and is now just standing ominously on a cliff side, so he wants to make sure everything’s alright.
His stomach drops out when he realises what she’s done, and soon hell is raining down as WCKD arrives and starts shooting.
“Where’s Y/n?” he shouts as Newt and Minho gather behind Vince to join in the fight.
“I don’t know!” Minho shouts back over the gunfire and screaming. “Last I saw her she was going back to check the medical tent.”
“Shit,” says Thomas. Said medical tent is now on fire, so she must’ve gotten out. She definitely got out, he tells himself.
They start to lose the fight, and WCKD officers start tying up members of the Right Arm, including Aris and Sonya.
Thomas knows he’s lost when Janson shoots Mary.
Fuck it. Thomas isn’t letting anymore good fighters be taken by WCKD.
And, he sure as hell isn’t going back himself; he’ll die before he does. And it might come to that.
“Stand back!” he yells, waving a control with the bomb trigger on it. “Get away!”
“Let ‘em all go!” he demands, the control held aloft like a weapon.
His feels his friends move to stand behind him in solidarity. They’re all going out together. He falters for a second as he wonders where you are.
“Don’t do this,” pleads Teresa. He ignores her.
“We’re with you.”
“Do it Thomas.”
“We’re ready.”
At his friends’ support, Thomas squeezes his eyes closed and touches the trigger.
“Thomas, I don’t think you want to do that.” It’s Janson.
A WCKD officer steps aside to reveal the Ratman himself, holding a knife to your neck.
Thomas feels a tug in his chest, and his vision whites out. His first thought is not now, until he feels cold metal and a slight pressure on his throat.
It’s a quick vision, and he comes back to himself after just a few seconds, but it’s long enough that he ends up staring at you, a devastated expression fixed on his face.
It’s okay, you mouth at him. But you don’t know what he’s just realised.
Thomas’ finger stills above the button. He can’t do it, not with you right there about to be killed or captured.
Before he can think, a huge car crashes through WCKD’s forces, Jorge at the wheel.
Thomas and his friends kick into motion, moving out of the way of Jorge’s truck, and Thomas turns quickly to watch you spin away from the WCKD guard, stealing their knife and running off.
He grabs you and runs, but the whole group is helpless when Minho is shot.
“Get her out!” orders Janson, directing WCKD guards to protect Ava.
Before you know it, WCKD decides to leave with what they’ve got, and they fly away on their Bergs with prisoners in tow.
Thomas stands frozen in the desolate area. He looks away as silent tears roll down your face at the loss of Minho.
“Pack up what we’ve got,” says Vince in what can almost pass as an unshaken tone.
By sunrise, Thomas has decided: he needs to rescue Minho.
He gives his speech, and soon he’s got a bunch of allies on his side.
His heart skips as he meets your eyes, and despite everything that just went down he’s still reeling from the realisation that it’s you. You’re his soulmate.
“Nice speech,” you say, approaching him with an encouraging smile.
Thomas doesn’t reply, and instead pulls you into a hug. You make a soft surprised noise, but lean into him. He’s breathing shakily as he presses a kiss to your temple and rests his forehead on yours, eyes closed.
“Thomas, what-” Thomas ignores your confused words and tightens his arms around you.
After pulling away, he swipes tears from his face with the back of his hand, before leaning into you again, this time bending so his head rests on your shoulder.
He leans back again, gently touching your cheek with his hand. He watches your eyes shine, the colour brightened by the sunrise glow. Your hand comes up to loosely hold his wrist.
“Okay.” His voice is scratchy when he finally steps back.
“Are you alright?” you hold onto his hand, brow furrowed in concern.
“Yeah, sorry.” He runs a hand through his hair and gives you a casual grin, like nothing happened.
⭒----⭒
“Newt.”
You’ve travelled for a while now, and the group has stopped to set up camp for the night.
“Yeah, what’s up?” You pull Newt aside to talk.
“Is Thomas okay? He was acting weird this morning.”
Newt sighs. “I mean, I don’t think any of us are alright really. I haven’t heard anything from Thomas specifically.”
“Okay.” You comb a hand through your hair, frowning. “Never mind, it’s alright.”
“You sure?”
“Yep, don’t worry.”
⭒----⭒
[ Cuttin' me open, then healin' me fine ]
“Just leave me.”
“No, keep moving,” you snap, terrified at the hopeless way your friend speaks. There’s no way you’re abandoning him.
You wince, gritting your teeth as your shoulder jostles against the wall.
That fucker Janson had shot you in the arm as you jumped from the building.
“Minho, you can go. Run and get the serum.” It’s Thomas.
“He’s right,” says Gally. “I can cover.”
“Y/n, go with them.”
“Are you kidding? There’s no way I’m leaving you.”
“Y/n, we don’t have time for this.” Thomas scrubs a hand down his face. “You’re losing too much blood.”
You groan, knowing he’s right. “Fine.” You stand abruptly and start moving in the other direction, but then you stop and turn.
You run back and throw your good arm around Thomas. “Be careful,” you whisper.
He nods, and you turn your attention to Newt. “Hey, stay with us okay? I need to see you at the end of this. Promise me we’ll see each other again.”
Newt’s eyes take a moment to focus on you. “I promise.”
You, Gally, and Minho start off towards the Berg where Brenda has the cure.
You move as quickly as you can, with one hand crossed over your body and protecting your shoulder.
You’re almost there when you skid to a stop abruptly, feeling a tugging sensation in your chest. “Wait, Min-” your vision whites out.
You try to focus each of your senses, but you can’t hear or see anything. Smell and taste aren’t happening either.
You’re starting to get confused when suddenly you feel a blinding pain in your chest, near your heart. You try to scream, but there's no sound.
You come out of the vision panting and shaking, and Minho's panicked shouts and Gally's concerned hovering return in a rush.
"I- I'm okay," you say, steadying your wavering voice.
Minho crouches in front of you as you melt to the floor, your legs giving out.
"Vision?" he asks.
You nod, eyes unfocused as you think. Where would the pain have come from?
Then you remember. Newt had a knife. Shit.
You stumble to your feet, grabbing onto Gally's arm for support.
"Thomas- I need... I've got to get back to Thomas," you say, still reeling from the vision.
You blink fast and shake yourself to clear your head. "First aid kit, over there. Help me get it," you tell Gally.
"Shucking... okay, fine."
When he returns, you grab bandages out and thrust them towards Minho. "Quick, Thomas is running out of time. Help me do it."
After a moment's hesitation, Minho wraps your wound tightly, temporarily stopping the bleeding.
"Okay, you two run and get the cure. I'm going back to help Thomas."
Your tone leaves no room for debate, and you turn and run back to where Thomas was last.
You steel yourself for the fight as you run. As Teresa's voice comes over the announcement system, you use her as an energy source to draw from. The rage at her betrayal propels you, and your pace increases.
You find them in an empty station, a gun forgotten on the floor and a knife clutched in Newt's fist.
"Thomas!" you shout, running in.
Between the two of you, you manage to hold off a Cranked-out Newt. You work together to get the knife away, and duck away when he lashes out.
"Thomas! Y/n!" you can hear Minho yelling from nearby.
"Over here!"
Brenda sprints in with the cure. "Help me hold him down."
You each grab one of Newt's flailing limbs until Brenda can inject the cure, and sigh in relief as the black veins start to recede.
"The cure is only temporary," says Thomas, straight to the point.
You meet his eyes. "We have to go to Teresa."
You turn to the others; Minho, Brenda, Gally, and Frypan. "You guys help Newt get out. Get to the Berg. We'll bring the cure."
You see Thomas hesitate in the corner of your eye as he opens his mouth to object to you coming with him.
You stare him down until he tosses his hands in the air. "Fine," he huffs.
When you get back to WCKD, you watch Janson kill Ava Paige.
Then Thomas watches you kill Janson with a swift, clean bullet to the heart.
When the Ratman falls, Thomas looks at you in surprise for just a second, then follows you as you stalk towards the elevators.
You find Teresa and give her a sample of Thomas' blood.
You hold your gun up again when she doesn't start making the cure at first.
When she's synthesised 10 vials of the cure, you walk out with Thomas. “Let’s get out of here.”
He doesn't even look back at Teresa, and neither do you.
⭒----⭒
"How'd you know to come back for me earlier?" asks Thomas once you've gotten on the Berg. “...you knew I was injured.”
You stay silent for a bit, gently cleaning his stab wound with a washcloth.
He lifts his hand, wrapping his fingers around your wrist. "Y/n," he prompts quietly.
You pull your hand away, dropping the washcloth.
You give him a look.
You know he knows the answer. He knows you had a soulmate vision, just like you eventually realised that his weird behaviour that night when WCKD attacked the Right Arm was due to his own visions.
You both know you're soulmates. And you both know the other knows it too.
He reaches out and runs his fingers through your hair, before lowering his hand to cup your cheek.
You flick yours eyes up to his before pulling back slowly, returning to your medical kit and tending to his wound.
"Y/n," he whispers again.
"Not now," you say softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze and hoping he gets what you mean.
Now isn't the time to address being soulmates. It's not the place for anything even remotely romance-related. You just- you need to get out. Get away from WCKD, before you can move on to... this.
He nods, eyes full of understanding.
You sit in peaceful silence, simple enjoying each others' company until Minho barges in and insists you come out to see the view.
You lace your fingers with Thomas' as you look out over the Safe Haven, a gorgeous coastal village stretching out below you.
It feels like a home.
⭒----⭒
”Oi! Let’s get going, Vince said meet at sundown.” Newt bangs on your hut door front be outside.
“The sun isn’t even fully set yet!” You yell back. “You go first, we’ll meet you there.”
“Slinthead,” you mutter.
Thomas snorts from his position on your bed, leisurely stretched out and lying on his back with his head near the foot of the bed.
You bend to pick up the fallen cards from the game you were just playing. As you organise them, your gaze wanders towards Thomas.
He tilts his head back over the bed so he’s looking at you upside down. That can’t be good for his neck, you think.
“What?” he grins at you as he flops back over.
“Nothing,” you say, turning away with a smile.
He gets of the bed and walks up to where you’re standing by the door. “Are we going…?”
You consider him for a moment, looking up at his face. Then you rise slightly up on your toes and press a kiss on his lips.
You pull back to see his reaction.
He blinks a few times. Then his face breaks into a wide grin. “I wasn’t ready that time, we have to go again.”
You lean up and give him another quick kiss on the lips before pulling away again.
He gives you an unimpressed look. “Y/n…” you laugh at his whine and kiss him for real this time.
You wrap your arms around his neck as he tugs you in by the waist, sealing his lips against yours.
Your movements are sloppy and inexperienced, and you giggle into his mouth as your noses get in the way.
You can feel him smiling against your lips too, and you tilt your head to help fit together better.
You both start to pick it up a bit more, and you gasp softly as his tongue probes experimentally at the seam of your lips.
He leans away, an apology already in motion, but you pull him back and try dipping your own tongue in.
You move unintentionally and end up with your back against the door.
There’s a thump noise when your back hits the door, and you hear footsteps stall outside.
“Hey, guys are you coming to the meeting?” It’s Gally.
“Shuck, man do you think they’re doing it?” Minho’s voice sounds a little further away.
Thomas leans on the door with you, groaning in embarrassment.
“Fuck I think Thomas just moaned,” says Minho.
“Move, move. Leaving now.” You hear Gally ushering Minho away.
As their footsteps recede, you and Thomas stare at each other for a few seconds.
Then you collapse into laughter on the floor, doubling over when you see Thomas’ face.
“Okay. Okay. Shuck. Are we presentable?” you ask, pulling yourself together.
“Shuck no, your lips are so red.” His embarrassed smile turns into a smirk, and you roll your eyes.
“Whatever, let’s just go. It’s not like everyone doesn’t already know,”
While everyone does know, you do get hell a lot of teasing comments and amused glances that night.
⭒----⭒
[ Gave me the blues and then purple pink skies ]
There’s a familiar tugging sensation in your chest, followed by your vision whiting out.
“Hey, you picked a good day dude the sunset looks shuckin’ gorgeous.”
“Wait, shuck. Minho where’s the goddamn food.”
“I don’t know! Ask Frypan.”
“Newt, a little help here?”
“No way man, you got yourself into this. Besides, it doesn’t even matter; she’s gonna love it no matter what.”
“Yeah, but I want it to be perfect.”
You duck your head, smiling as you come out of the vision.
There have been many strolls on the beach and make out sessions (you’re both getting really good). But, this is your first actual date with Thomas.
The sky is starting to fracture into pieces of blue and purple. “Brenda! Help me get ready for my date,” you call.
“You know I’m just gonna make fun of Thomas and judge your clothing choices, right?”
“Yes.”
“Perfect. Let’s go.”
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Wow. This fic had no business being as long as it ended up. Anyway
Something I noticed is that I’ve been pretty sympathetic to Teresa I my writing, or at least in aitd. But not here! 👏👏 Not really a big thing just something I found.
Thank you for reading 😊
Requests are open!
119 notes · View notes
dcangel · 4 months
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little blurb from my thomas x reader fic on wattpad🤭
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"What else do you like." The girl reiterated.
“Things you’d think are weird.”
She lightly rolled her eyes, shaking her head in playful disapproval. “Like what?”
He felt that weird feeling again, like he was nervous. Thomas didn’t quite know what to say, it was as if he was drawing a blank; forgetting everything he knew about himself. “I don’t know, just weird things.”
Y/N sighed and flicked his wrist, which inadvertently made him stop fiddling to pull his hand away, grumbling something about how it hurt. She tugged herself up off his shoulder and mirrored the way he was sitting; sitting on the bed with her back against the wall. “Does that mean I’m weird?”
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Keep in mind yall that they’re literally 8 and still in the wckd facility and don’t know they like each other yet (they don’t even really know it themselves either)
fic: The Last Look | Thomas x Reader (just type in “The Last Look” it’ll probably be the first)
author: hpdanica (me)
7 notes · View notes
filthforfriends · 2 years
Text
The Taste of It
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Thomas x fem reader
Word count: 8.6k
Smut prompt #27 I'm so wet.
Today the studio was booked by Maneskin again, which means you’d get to see Thomas. You’d get to listen to him play bluesy or hard rock guitar riffs and attempt to hide how much it turned you on. You’d get to stare at him until he felt your eyes on him and looked back. You’d get to hold eye contact in a way that made the whole room uncomfortable.
During every moment it was appropriate, you’d speak to each other in hushed voices, biting your lip so you didn’t smile too wide. He’d stand really close and you’d feel small next to him, and feverish under his direct attention. Thomas would flirt with you in front of everyone, quietly and with such sweetness. He knew that a spectacle would jeopardize your job with the producers you were supposed to be assisting. And he’d do so without ever looking at his phone, except for the moment he added your contact.
Thomas would work at a frenzied pace right before lunch, that way he could find an excuse to go fetch the orders with you. At first he played indecisive, then curious about the local restaurants. After a few days the excuses became about you: there was a band that he just had to show you or vice versa, and to be fair he often did. Now, not even two weeks into a seven week recording stint, Thomas had given up the excuses altogether. Everyone knew the routine, and gave him shit for it: he’d disappear with you for 45 minutes in the middle of the day and return with lunch.
Your coworkers didn’t start teasing until Thomas began staying later than everyone else, during the time when you’d clean up the studio for the morning’s clients. You’d talk, getting to know one another and finding an ever growing list of shared interests and experiences. Conversations which would be continued for hours afterwards, via text. At first it really irked you, the whistles and crude remarks about “no glove no love,” but that same evening Thomas helped you clean the bathroom so he’d have a couple extra minutes together, and any fucks you gave went out the window.
“I really want to play you something.”
“Yeah, okay,” you beamed, unlocking the booth and flipping on the light. Technically, you weren’t supposed to be in here by yourself, future platinum records and multi-million dollar equipment considered. However, they’d given you a key and no conduct within a recording studio is ever strictly legal. Turning on the soundboard, you did feel like this was something risky and forbidden, but for entirely different reasons. You and Thomas would be in a soundproofed studio alone, in an empty building. If there was ever a moment to act on this stifling sexual tension, it was now.
You spent the evening seated on layers of rugs that hadn’t been washed since the 70’s. When you made a comment about how grubby the floor was, Thomas had you sit on his coat.
“It’s fine, really! I shouldn’t have worn a skirt, this way I’ll remember next time,” you protest. Thomas gets settled, guitar over his leg, pick in hand, but he looks at you instead of playing. God, he has nice hands. And really nice fingers: long, elegant, skilled, probably very dexterous.
“Isn’t it better?”
“Huh?” you ask, entirely distracted. He follows your gaze and you know you’ve been caught by the way the left side of his mouth curls upwards. If Thomas knows you’re fantasizing about his hands, then he knows about the other thoughts dirtying your mind and that's a position far too revealing.
“Isn’t it better not to have to sit on the floor, though?” he repeats.
“Uh, yeah,” you reply dumbly.
“Then you’ll sit on my coat,” he concludes with soft finality. So you do sit, but sideways on your hip so a wet spot isn’t left on the polyester lining from the seat of your underwear. Thomas puts his pick in his mouth, and plays with his hands. A classy woman would be able to admire his musicianship, but you’re horny and want to climb him like a tree. What's even better, or perhaps more tortuous, is that his sweeping glances indicate that he feels the same. The anticipatory chemistry between you is so electrifying that it makes you feel alive in a new way.
Very quickly, it becomes apparent that Thomas is aware of his own sexuality. He has a quiet confidence in place of showmanship, moves with his music in the same caliber of motion and intensity. Every once in a while he looks up while playing a particularly Jimmy Page-esque chord, like the guitar is moaning in pleasure that Thomas is so intentionally applying. He rocks back and forth with the rhythm, lips parting as he focuses. Was he supposed to be showing you a song idea? His new favorite guitar melody? You’re lost as Thomas plays, in him more so than in the music. At some point you begin mirroring him, by complete accident, swaying back and forth in time.
When Thomas stops finger picking it's like a spell being broken. You feel yourself surface from the groove of his music, which has moved from melodic to soulful to sensual. He stands up, retrieving a slide he’d left on top of an amp. When he turns back around you see a realization flash across his face.
“Or maybe you’d like to sit somewhere else?” he asks, quickly. Like on your lap? How are you going to play guitar then? “There has to be another chair here somewhere.”
“It’s totally fine! I put them all away.” As has the devil with my soul, apparently.
“Well I could sit on the floor, too?” The rate with which Thomas has gone from rock god to conscientious gentleman is endlessly endearing.
“Oh no, I really don’t mind, Tommy.” In fact, you think the universe has granted you a reprieve until Thomas starts playing New Orleans blues. He uses his index and middle finger to yank on the strings, manipulating the sound by manually bending them to his will. It's worse than holding the pick between his beautiful lips. Everytime he accentuates a chord this way, you fantasize about his firm hands gripping you, and where else he could curl his strong, lengthy fingers.
“So, what do you think?” In all honesty you haven’t had a complete thought in the last half an hour.
“I think, um…I think it's good.” Thomas misinterprets your response with a frown.
“You hate it,” he guesses.
“No, no that’s not it at all! God, fuck, um –” Drawing a complete blank for an excuse, you’re left with no option but to tell the truth. Plus, you know the attraction is mutual, and someone has to take this a step further.
“It’s just that you’re really sexy,” you confess. That particular adjective slips without your permission. Why not hot or cute? As soon as the words have been spoken you hide your blushing face behind your hands.
“Oh, fuck. Um, sorry, that was super unprofessional,” you grimace, letting the hair fall in front of your face as you move your hands.
“When I found out you were into guitar players, I realized I must have done something very charitable in a past life.” You meet his eyes, trying to think of which co-worker would have made that comment. Not one that knew you well, since you’d dated all types of musicians.
“It’s not guitar players specifically,” you answer, feeling coy. Flirtatiously, you allow yourself a languide glance at Thomas’ open shirt and smattering of chest hair.
“Well then I must be really lucky, because you’re exquisite.” Exquisite. You’d been called beautiful, hot, and cute before, but the descriptors ended there. What the fuck does a person say to match exquisite? It seems that no words are necessary, your blush is validation enough. Thomas’ lips part to reveal an adorable smile. Everything about him is kind,and that’s so attractive. Despite what the media portrays, plenty of women aren’t into hard-bodied masculinity.
“I, um, well fuck,” you giggle, hands returning to your face out of a nervous habit.
“Don’t hide your smile,” he coaxes. “It’s like sunshine.” You drop your hands, carefully committing him to memory. His soulful, downturned eyes, his cute button nose that was actually quintessentially Italian from his side profile. Leave it to Thomas to have both of your favorite, but mutually exclusive, facial features. Those shapely lips that would fit so well against your own, his stubble, dark eyelashes, and soft jawline, all framed by a grown out shag.
“Sorry, I couldn’t come up with something better. My English still isn’t good enough to give beautiful women porper compliments.” The fact that he referred to you as a woman instead of a girl already won his points.
“Don’t worry, the accent is plenty effective,” you grinned. Thomas chuckled, bashful, turning the guitar pick over in his fingers.
“I’m glad I have something going for me.”
“Oh, you have plenty going for you,” you quip, confidently. This playful banter eventually leads to you playing something for him, much to Thomas’ excitement.
“You play?”
“Yes, I play! I firmly believe that any decent producer should be able to tinker around with instruments.” Thomas’ expression is so flattering that you get flustered, and find an excuse to listen to him strum the guitar again. You’re both on the floor now. The squeaks from the strings as Thomas moves his hand up along the fretboard are louder than the chords. Eventually he gives up and curses.
“Fuck, I don’t have that part down, yet.” He shakes his head and lays the guitar on the ground. You slide it away so there's nothing between the two of you but air and apprehension. After you finish moving the guitar out of the way, you look back up at Thomas. If there was anytime to kiss him, it was now, but you couldn’t figure out a segway. He hadn’t actually touched you beside a hand on the small of your back a couple times. Just catapulting yourself at him would be awkward and not explicitly welcome.
So you looked down at his hands, and felt the sexual tension in your cunt. His black nail polish was chipped and grown out, and there was a scrap from changing his own strings. Internally, you were screaming at him to move, so do something. You inched your hand towards his jean-clad knee, but stopped just short of touching. In term, he lay his hand on your knee over your thin tights. You could feel its warmth, its weight, and wished that he had reached under your skirt instead of below the hemline.
In return, you slide your hand onto his midthigh, not quite high enough to touch the erection you assumed he was sporting. You begin to lift your head, then realize Thomas is also bent over, watching all these tiny chances you barely have the courage to take. Looking down upon your hesitant hands is almost like looking down into a doll house. It's a miniature, controlled representation of all the things you’d like to do with your bodies, but lack the faculties to. Or, in this case, the courage. In this tiny simulation mistakes could be made without dire consequences and could be easily amended.
That's why Thomas’ hand sliding up your leg, under your skirt, was like toppling an entire play scene. Now that every character in this mini-theatre was indisposed, you were forced to engage with real life. You pressed your forehead to his and looked up. Thomas’ hand found the end of your hosiery, which you guess he hadn’t expected by the way he froze.
“Tommy,” you whispered. He met your eyes, and you leaned in to kiss him, tilting your chin to the side. He met you halfway, sort of nuzzling before your lips met. It was such an adoring way to kiss someone that you lifted a hand to the back of Thomas’ head, keeping him there to draw out the kiss. He seemed in no hurry to pull away either, slowly, sensually taking the time to mold his mouth to yours. Instead of a peck, he found the perfect way your mouths fit together and savored it for a moment.
Your lips made an obnoxious sound as they parted, but were silent as they met again in another slow, sultry kiss. You finally let your eyes fall shut, and laced your fingers through Thomas’ hair. The hand on his leg felt awkward and you tried to figure out what to do with it as Thomas’ pressed his tongue into your mouth, one band cupping your jaw, the other squeezing the meat of your thigh. You should have struggled to catch your breath, but this had been such a long time coming that the kiss was relaxing, and natural in a way none of your other interactions had been. This was the first time neither had held back.
You kissed in the same way, and it made everything run smoothly. Maintaining a rhythm once you’d found it in was usually challenging, but with a bit of focus, you and Thomas seemed to always be on the same page. His mouth tasted good. The knowledge that his saliva was brought against your tongue with every caress aroused you an uncomfortable amount. Your panties were cold and sticky against your skin.
You used the hand on Thomas' thigh to push yourself upright, making it easier to engage in the kiss instead of just receiving it. He seemed to like this very much and moaned into your mouth, which put you in a state of frenzy, halfway falling on Thomas as you tried to pull him closer. His nose bumped against your cheek, and he kissed like he was very aware of this, constantly readjusting. The amount of thought process that was being allocated away from your embrace bothered you. So, you took Thomas’ face in both hands, kissing him hard, passionately, unbothered by the bridge of his nose against your cheek bone. He let out another moan, of both surprise and appreciation, then pulled away slightly, breaking for air.
“Holy fucking shit,” he gasped, cheeks flushed, as was the tip of his nose, like it was chilly outside. You tried for words, but ended up dissolving into happy giggles. Seeing your joy, he chuckled along.
“So we know that works,” you conclude, allocating one hand to fan yourself, suddenly enduring a hot flash.
“Uh, yeah. That definitely works.” Thomas takes a moment to readjust, sitting against an amp, but still keeping his fingertips on the bare skin of your thigh. Every perceptible touch made your pussy throb, and you wanted to buck your hips until his hand was in the proper place.
“C’mere,” he invited, patting his lap. You grinned like a fool and swung a leg over, sitting on his midthigh. Something about Thomas coaxing you to sit on his lap then gripping you firmly had a whine of protest ripping from the back of your throat. Protesting what exactly, wasn’t clear. A lack of action? An excess of arousal? All you new is that you were going to take off these underwear and stuff them in your purse before you drove home because this was fucking uncomftorable.
You resumed kissing, glancing at each other's lips before surging towards each other. It was actually a little too forceful and you worried about Thomas’ nose, but he seemed unbothered. You used this opportunity to run your hands through Thomas’ hair. It was finer than you expected, but just as soft. After a long day in the studio, it was hard not to catch on tangles, so you spoke into the kiss.
“How do you like to be touched?” He kissed you once more before processing your question and stilling. Just barely, you could feel his cock twitch against your leg. Even though your lips were touching it wasn’t a kiss. Thomas was panting erratically into your mouth.
“I um,” gasp, “I like most things.” The hand that slid between your shoulder blades a few moments ago was progressively finding its way downwards. Currently Thomas was gripping just above your waist tightly, keeping you close as he attempted to form a thought. He looked to his left, unable to function under your amous gaze.
“I like having my ears touched.”
“Okay…” You nodded encouragingly and brought a hand to trace the shell of his ear. Once his ear lobe was between your fingers, you pulled on it gently, and this caused his eyelids to flutter closed.
“I don’t…I don’t know,” he huffed.
“Well what would you like to do right now?” you prodded.
“Anything. Everything. Nothing. Whatever you want.” You hummed in agreement, putting both your hands around Thomas neck, and scooting up.
“Whatever I want. I like the sound of that,” you tease, resuming the kiss. Thomas' mouth is more firm against yours, increasing in vigor. If it weren’t for your own enthusiasm the force would have your neck craning back. You rise to the challenge, kissing him passionately, pressing your chest to his. Instead of sitting back on your heels, you straddle Thomas’ groin, resting your weight forward on his hard cock. As the kiss slows, becomes deeper, you rock up and down on his lap in rhythm, just as you had while he played. You can feel your nipples rubbing against his chest through your blouse and bralette.
“Are you even wearing anything under this!?” he exclaims, hand sliding upward and finding a lack of shorts underneath.
“Why don’t you keep going and find out?” Instead of waiting for stimulation, you very purposefully rub your pussy against the zipper of his jeans, neglecting the kiss in order to find a pleasurable motion. A wide-eyed Thomas brings his hand under your skirt, up to your ass. Exchanging pecks on the lips, you nod your head encouragingly. When Thomas reaches your skimpy underwear you both stop breathing. He pauses, rubbing the fabric between his fingers, unsure of how to proceed.
“Mhm,” you prompt, nodding again, foreheads pressed together. It takes everything not to guide his hand between your legs, but that would be a bit too forward for a first sexual interaction. His hand slides under the waistband of your panties and he feels the curve of your hip, traces the skin where thigh meets groin. You keep nodding, and the arm around your ribs falls to your hips, like he's trying to adjust your position. Problem is you've never hooked up before so you have no idea what goal he’s trying to achieve.
“Mhm, mhm,” you confirm, nodding a bit too enthusiastically. He’s trying to pull you towards him somehow and as much as you’re trying to go with Thomas, he’s not being decisive enough with his movements. You lose your patience.
“What do you want me to do?” you snap. His eyes go wide for a second in surprise.
“I find it's easier if you just, just lean into me a bit. Because I’m so tall.” You lean forward, holding your weight except for the arms wrapped around his neck. It feels wrong and the tentative flutter of his hands confirms this.
“Just…relax. Like, I’ve got you. Just –” You give Thomas your weight, resting your head on his shoulder, like a hug. “Yeah, exactly, okay.” He rubs your flank reassuringly with both hands, and starts to work his way towards your cunt again. He traces the waist of your panties, then rubs the crook of your thigh. You think he’s finally going to touch your pussy, at least over the underwear, and he doesn’t. Is he teasing me or does he think I still need warming up? Thomas torturing you the frist time he gets in your pants sounds out of character, you decide.
“How’s –”
“I’m so wet,” you confess, burning face pressed into his shoulder. “Please, just do something, now. Like, I –” Thomas pushes a hand down the front of your panties, and rubs over your pussy on the way to inserting a finger into your opening. It's exactly what you wanted. That place inside you, begging for touch, begging for pressure, begging for intrusion is satiated, and you let out a whine that turns into a mewl. You know Thomas can see your toes curl.
He works the one finger all the way in and you’re trying not to pull his hair, but fuck you’ve spent $85 on a dildo that didn’t reach this far. You bite down on the fabric of his shirt as a gag, resisting the urge to let out an avalanche of pathetic whines.
“More?” You nod furiously, and Thomas begins massaging your hymen with his middle finger. “This okay?”
“Just force it,” you beg. You partially expect him to pause, or act scandalized, or refuse, but Thomas has more experience than you give him credit for. He’s been with enough women to understand the desire to feel your body pried open when it's gone untouched for too long. So he does exactly what you ask: no prep, he pushes the second finger inside.
Your body has decided that curling your toes is no longer an adequate expression of sensation, now you’re kicking the dusty rug with the top of your foot. You let out a moan so Thomas doesn’t have to discern if this is pain or pleasure. He starts by thrusting his fingers, then tries curling them. Both get a strong reaction out of you while rocking back on his hand like you’re riding it. You’re wondering which one he’ll decide on when he speaks.
“A third?”
“I, uh…” Two felt plenty full, but the sensation of three fingers was glorious if you could take it.
“When was the last time someone fucked you properly?”
“Um, I guess…” You couldn’t come up with a decisive answer. “It’s been a bit.” You sat up as you spoke, feeling awkward having a conversation into Thomas’ shirt. “Why, is it obvious?” Thomas started making come hither motions, while his thumb searched for your clit. You let out a sigh, leaning your forehead against his as your eyelids fell closed.
“You can barely take two fingers, but you wanted them without foreplay? Then a third? I couldn’t give that to you if I wanted to.”
“Oh.” You felt absolutely mortified at coming off so desperate.
“Hey! Hey, I do want to, for the record. I want to give you everything that feels good.” Perfect timing, his thumb found your clitorous, and you were keening forward once again.
“Tommy,” you rasped.
“And I fucking love that you call me Tommy. No one calls me Tommy, so don’t pretend that you didn’t know what you were doing, either.” He says these words into your hair,  leaning closer. He starts thrusting his fingers in and out at a decent pace. Not your ideal pace, but this was the first time after all.
“Wait,” your murmur, reaching down to hold his wrist still. You bounce at the speed you’d like, letting him get acquainted. When you let go he keeps pace, and the depth has you letting out an open mouthed groan, eyes closed tightly in appreciation.
“There you go,” he encourages in that thick Italian accent. You kiss him messily for a minute, but realize that this isn’t enough to make you cum. When you open your eyes his lips are glistening, and his brow furrowed in concentration.
“Can I touch you?” Your hand slides up his leg, waiting for permission.
“Yeah, uh, fuck,” he pants, hand faltering. “I don’t think I can –” receive and give effectively at the same time.
“That's okay,” you offer, sitting back a bit. You make quick work of his belt buckle and the buttons. After spitting in your hand crudely, you shove your hand inside his boxers, attempting to find a good grip. The hand between your legs settles on lazily rubbing your clit, as Thomas’ head falls back against the amp. You start with full strokes then switch to focusing on the sensitive half of his cock, trying to see which he likes more. He doesn’t seem to have a preference until you increase the tightness of your hold, sliding over the head of his cock and thumbing at his slit.This earns you an unexpected amount of pre-cum and he lets out the first real moan, which lands like a wave of heat that settles in your groin.
You can actually see the tension leave his body as Thomas slumps against the amp. His hips buck in sensitivity, and you have to use your body weight to pin down his thighs. The restriction from the elastic waistband of his boxers is annoying, so you pull them down to reveal his cock. It’s a handsome cock, rosey and veering slightly to the right. He’s cut, which you didn’t expect from a European man. Thomas’ pubic hair is denser and lighter in color than you’d imagined, but it's in proportion to his substantial shaft. How people fit so much in skin-tight pants would never cease to amaze you.
His reaction to your touch is anything but casual. Thomas is highly reactive and tightly wound. How long had it been since he was fucked properly? His cock twitches whenever you firmly massage the ridge at the base of the head. It seems that he’s never really resting his weight on the floor, always carrying it in his body. You lean forward and lick his exposed adam’s apple. The resulting prornographic noise makes you thankful that this room is locked and sound proofed.
With the crown of his head resting on the edge of the amp, you trace the shell of his ear then suck his earlobe, grazing it with your teeth. Unexpectedly, his head snaps up, eyes half lidded with arousal, plush lips parted. Thomas roughly grabs you and kisses you with so much passion it's disarming. Thomas molds the flesh of your thigh with one hand and uses the other to lightly slap your ass, exposed in your skimpy underwear.
“I don’t wanna stop,” you mumble into his mouth. He gives you one final kiss as punctuation before meeting your eyes.
“I have a condom in my bag. Um…” he looks around trying to locate it, gently pushing you from his lap. “Fuck, where is it?” Thomas gets up, tucking himself back into his pants with a comical amount of effort.
“Don’t worry about it, we’re just taking them off again.”
“I can’t walk about with my dick out!” he counters, finally buttoning his fly. You get up and follow him to the mixing room, giggling while scanning the various shelves.
“This is so fucking embaressing, I’m so sorry,” he apologizes crouching down next to the couch.
“I’m more worried about you losing, erm, interest,” you insinuate. Thomas looks back at you, smirking.
“I can promise you that any interest lost, can easily be perked back up again.” The light reflects off of something on a stack of amps directly behind him. You then realize it is the polished leather handle of Thomas’ bag.
“Over here!”
“Thank god!” he groans, head thrown back. As Thomas unzips a side pocket he mutters rapid fire Italian curse words under his breath.
“Okay,” he sighs, holding up the condom between his index and middle finger like a cigarette, smiling. You give him your best come hither look. Thomas gets to be the one to reinitiate physical contact.
“What are you doing all the way over there again?” he teases cheerfully, taking a step in your direction.
“Waiting for you to come get me.” Thomas’ chest heaves under this shirt, which is now halfway unbuttoned, even though you don’t remember undressing him. He crowds you against a stack of Fender amplifiers. You find yourself wobbling on the tips of your toes, trying to compensate for the height difference and meet his lips. Instead of a stabilizing hand on your waist, Thomas reached both hands under the hem of your skirt, cupping the crease where thigh becomes buttock. You barely have the presence of mind to help him by jumping before you’re being hauled off the ground.
His mouth is on yours before the hold is even steady. Thomas is letting you set the pace with both his hands now occupied. His hair gets in your mouths, so you open your eyes and admire his beauty as you pull his golden locks from the kiss. It doesn’t even seem to register, he’s just happy to have you held tightly against him. This passionate embrace had been a long time coming.
Using your height advantage, you push your tongue into Thomas’ mouth while also wrapping your legs around him. The meeting of these two entities is hesitant, even gentle. Brute force was never pleasant when it came to French kissing, and his ability to be delicate and measured made your excitement uncomfortably tangible. It was an arousing juxtaposition to the way you’d wrapped yourself around him, squeezing tightly. His fingers dug into the softest part of your body and you try not to be self conscious of the fact that he’s supporting your weight. Even though this is your first time, there's a sense of safety in Thomas’ arms. Being held like this evokes the same warm satiation as being cuddled.
Breaking away, you sloppily kiss the corner of Thomas’ mouth and across his cheek, making your way back to his ear. He sort of kisses you sideways, trying to follow your mouth until he realizes that's not the intent. Something else endearing, as if there weren’t enough already. Instead of resuming your attention to the shell of his ear, you very slowly insert your tongue into his canal, its wet warmth stimulating every hyper-sensitive follicle. Thomas shivers and pushes you up against the mixing room’s external door, which rattles on its hinges. The taste is bitter, but the ferocity with which he now grips your thighs makes it worth it.
Thomas devolves into rutting against you while grunting and you practically climb him. The zipper of his jeans rubbing against your groin was probably doing more for you than it was him. You pull his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging just a little bit before letting go and allowing him to return the gesture. His mouth feels so much better than it looks, pillowy and rounded. Wanting to get a better sense of them, you lick up the hill of his bottom lip, down into the seam where they meet, and back up over his top lip and onto his cupid's bow. Thomas' eyes fall closed as you do this, so you kiss the tip of his nose and up the bridge, ending between his eyebrows where he gets a line when a riff is evading him. His entire face relaxes, and the knowledge that Thomas likes having his face kissed burns between your legs. Only then do you remember the goal of finding a functional horizontal surface.
“We need, we need somewhere,” you pant. Thomas sets you on top of an amp, and pulls your shirt off. Before the fabric has hit the floor, you’re working on the clasp of your bra. Thomas audibly gasps as you fling it to the side, which is very flattering.
“Your nipples are so pretty.” His hand comes up to cup your breast, tracing over the mauve bud with a feather light touch that makes you shiver in delight. The rough callous on his thumb barely makes contact with your extremely sensitive nipple, and yet it's almost too much sensation. You are pushing your breasts towards him without choosing to do so consciously. Thomas grabs you around the middle, and pulls your chest towards his face, sucking the other nipple into his mouth with severity. This time you’re the one moaning, fingernails scratching at the textured surface of the amplifier.
When Thomas drops to his knees you know you’re done for. The optimist in you assumes he’ll be great at giving oral. The realist knows that men are very rarely this proficient and you’ll have to pretend to enjoy it for an appropriate amount of time before moving on to better things. Most people don’t enjoy going down on someone, they just feel obligated, and that's what you would be. If Thomas ate you out, you’d be obligated.
“Hey, it's okay, you already warmed me up.”
“I know, I was there” he winks, pulling you to the edge. “And you don’t have to blow me, I’m not expecting that.” The surprise must show on your face because Thomas breaks out in a laugh. “Damn, you’ve had some really bad sex.”
“I can neither confirm nor deny,” you counter. “But, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Thomas sits back on his heels with a huff, trying to read your features. He seems to settle on something before speaking.
“Remember when you wore that red plaid skirt a couple days ago?” Ah yes, your tennis skirt, an article of clothing made to reduce the most pious of men to sex demons. You’d worn it to get Thomas’ attention.
“Mhm,” you nod coyly.
“And remember that chair I was in, and you sat on the arm for a while? You were really close to me and you smelled lovely.”
“You like my perfume?” Smell was a huge part of attraction, so this was a positive. You loved the way Thomas smelled.
“Um, sure…yeah.” He seemed taken aback. “It’s nice, but I really prefer your natural smell. It’s so sexy to me.” He put lots of emphasis on the word “natural,” patting your thigh a couple times. Thomas implored you to understand with his expression, but you were lost.
“But, I always wear perfume.”
“Right, but I could smell you this time. Now that I know how little you wear under your skirts that makes sense.” He gestures to your groin. “Especially considering how close you” cue confusing emphasis “were to me. But, maybe that was on purpose,” he smirks, tilting his head to the side.
“Well, I smell the same today,” you chirp. Thomas looks bewildered.
“I don’t think you can control that. It has more to do with you, um –” he gesticulates as though the words should be forthcoming.
“It’s an essential oil, jasmine. I used it today as well.”
“I’m not talking about your perfume, y/n. I’m talking about how you smell.” He chuckles good naturedly, and rests his forehead on your knee for a moment in exasperation. “You’ve smelled yourself before, no?” If not perfume, then what, body odor? That did not smell lovely. And what did your skirt have to do with, oh my god.
“No!” you howled, hands coming up to cover your face. “I thought only girls could smell their own, y’know.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” he chuckled. “Has no one complimented you on this before? Americans are such prudes.” You immediately close your legs as tightly as possible, to which Thomas makes a noise of disagreement.
“I’m gonna start wearing liners, and shorts, and –”
“It’s natural, it’s supposed to be there, dear god!” Thomas laughs, and your face is so hot with mortification that you feel feverish.
“This whole time,” you groaned, remembering every occasion you’d worn a skirt, thinking this scent was only perceptible to you.
“I can’t imagine anyone complaining, it's quite pleasant.” You let out a whine of shame, shaking your head, face still covered by your palms. “It's just pheromones, relax! We never have to acknowledge it again. I just brought it up because now that I know how you smell, I’d really like to know how you taste.” Having a man tell you that he liked the scent of your cunt so much that he wanted to eat you out was either the hottest or most disgusting thing ever. Maybe it was both.
“Mm-mm,” you shook your head. Thomas pushed up your skirt to reveal your underwear and your pussy throbbed. He pulled your hands from your face, looking at you for permission to continue. You nodded your head, unsure how far your self consciousness would let you go. Instead of trying to pry your thighs apart, Thomas pressed his face into your lap. To prove a point, he breathed in deep and hummed in satisfaction. His nose nudged your clitorous, which caused you to kick the side of the amp so hard you hissed in pain.
“You’re gross.” Thomas rests one cheek on your thigh, his free hand stroking your flank.
“Sure am.” He didn’t take it as an insult, which somehow made the whole situation more erotic. You relaxed your legs, not quite parting them, but allowing them to be parted.
“Maybe we do this on the floor, so you don’t break anything,” Thomas suggested. He kissed your inner thigh before unbuttoning his shirt, still kneeling. You waited for his direction, as he shed the layer, and bunched it up in his hand.
“C’mon.” He pulled you from the amplifier and back into the studio where his leather jacket lay on the ground, and you were hit by a scandalous realization.
“You! Were you trying to – your jacket, having me sit on it! Were you, were you, um –”
“Actually I was just trying to be a gentleman, but the thought did cross my mind.” He winked, before laying his shirt out below his jacket so you’d have something to rest on. You sat down on the makeshift bed as he smoothed out the material.
“Your poor shirt,” you comment, leaning back on your elbows with Thomas knelt at your knees.
“A worthwhile sacrifice.” He smiled with just the left side of his mouth before returning his attention elsewhere. “Open your legs, leprotta.”
“What does that mean?” Thomas thought for a moment about the translation.
“Bunny.”
“Jesus christ,” you sighed, laying flat on your back, looking at the ceiling. There were various exposed cords and a dubiously engineered lighting system. The snap of your skirt’s clasp and the sound of the zipper seemed to echo in the otherwise perfectly silent room. In your mind, you beg Thomas to hurry up before the anticipation kills you, but in reality your lips are pursed to fight back a dismal whine.
The fabric tickles where it brushes your legs, causing every hair to stand up. Thomas crouches down and you look up to find his expression expectant. Under his lustful gaze, you open your legs a generous amount. For a panicky moment you forget which underwear you have on and can’t remember if they’re stained. Thomas seems totally enraptured, smiling faintly with both hands coming to grip your thighs.
“You’ve soaked all the way through,” he admires. You let out a humiliated groan, head lulling back and eyes tightly closed. In darkness, your other senses become the conveyors of information. You expect Thomas to take off your underwear next, but he doesn’t. He kisses your pussy over the fabric on the wet spot. Then he nuzzles against you, nose coming in contact with your clit. You whine at the sensation, lifting your hips so he can take off the final garment and touch your properly. Thomas has no such mercy. Tongue firm, he licks the seat of your panties, using his face to apply glorious pressure.
“If you make me cum in my underwear I swear to – uh, ahh, Tommy!” He interrupts you by firmy lapping at the seat of your panties, until the entire strip of fabric is wet. He then pushes it to the side with his tongue and finally licks your pussy.
“Please, please take them off!” you beg, and he does, pulling your ruined panties down to your ankle. You haphazardly kick your underwear off in a random direction and Thoams presses his face to your bare cunt, unyielding. Just the direct pressure and warmth of his skin is heavenly. He moans and the vibrations are felt on and inside you. After a few seconds of trial and error, his nose is pressed to your clit again as the hot muscle of his tongue invades your pussy. He’s so exact with his movements, so active in his ministrations.
When your eyes finally open again you see the mop of his dirty blond hair and nothing else solidly between your thighs. Without thinking, you grab his shag in your hands to keep him close, maintain stimulation. A more logical y/n would remember that Thomas needed to breathe, but you were close and he was damn good at this.
“Tommy, tommy, tommy,” you whine, each repetition in increasing pitch until you're damn near squeaking his name. He nodded against your body in understanding and the new stimulation caused your heel to pound against the studio floor. Thomas noticed this and started rocking his face against you. In fact, his whole body was in motion and you realized that Thomas was rutting against the carpet, so turned on by the way you tasted that he was getting himself off.
Your feet began to pound against the floor, body so wrought with pleasure that you needed some externalization of the sensation. Usually, with men, you carefully orchestrated reactions to flatter them, but with Thomas it felt as if you would explode if you didn’t move. You ended up rocking against his face too, and it was as if he was fucking you, but with his tongue as the chosen appendage. He managed to keep rhythm, making obscene slurping noises as your aroused discharge became more plentiful with your impending orgasam.
“Close,” you cried out and Thomas moaned again and kept moaning. It was what got you off, and he continued through your orgasam, so much so you were worried he had finished. Fighting for air, you felt a tug where you held Thomas’ hair, and realized he was likely suffocating between your thighs.
“Oh shit, sorry,” you gasped, breaking out in a sweat. His face was red when he pulled away from your pussy, but he was beaming. “Shit, I suffocated you didn’t I?” To breathless to verbalize, Thomas simply laughed as he sat up.
“Can’t believe – ugh” he gave up speaking and focused on breathing for a moment. “Can’t believe I had to convince you to do that.” There were red hand prints where he’d gripped your thighs, and you traced their outline, enraptured.
“Oh, sorry. Shit, I –”
“Don’t apologize, I like them.” Thomas surged forward to kiss you, but you stopped him with your hand before his lips made contact.
“Ah! I don’t care how much you like it, wipe your mouth off!” Thomas wiped his face on the back of his hand and looked up, eyebrow raised. You scrunch your nose up in nearly concealed disgust and he laughed.
“Shut up and get over here,” he said, affectionately. You couldn't help but smile as your mouths reunited. While half your attention was focused on the kiss, the other half was focused on getting Thomas naked and on top of you. Getting him out of his pants wasn’t too difficult, pulling him on top of you was easy enough, but he was still catching his breath. The kiss became totally open-mouthed, panting as your tongues met.
“Let me do some of the work now,” you volunteered, getting out from under him. “Lay back.” Thomas seemed happy to rest and enjoy the view. You worked his jeans the rest of the way off, and tried to remember where you’d put the condom. Thomas saw you scanning the room and guessed.
“It’s in my pant’s pocket.” You fished the wrapper out of his jeans, carefully tearing it open. Best to assume this was your one chance and not waste it. You carefully rolled it on, and even that contact was enough to have Thomas’ eyes rolling back in his head. Already, you were excited to make him cum, watch him totally relax and give into your body. He seemed so ready, cheeks pink and his chest quickly flushing the same color.
“Can I ride you?” Out of habit you stroke his cock a couple times to get him completely erect, but Thomas is already there.
“Fuck yeah,” he guaffed. You straddle him, getting a hold on the base of his shaft. Hopefully the fingering wasn’t too long ago and this would be easy. Luckily it felt like his cock was lubed up when you sank down on it. You wondered how much of this was you and how much of it was his saliva.
“So, how was it?” Thomas doesn’t need any elaboration, but he does lick his lips crudely.
“You’re delicious, leprotta.” His hands rest at his sides, allowing you to integrate him at your own pace with no pressure. It's very considerate, but you want Thomas to grab you with a ferocity that borders on pain.
When you’re totally seated on his cock, you experimentally rub your clit on Thomas’ pubic bone, wiggling your hips. He gets his feet under him, the crook of his knee at a 90 degree angle, hips still resting on the ground. It pitches you forward and you catch yourself with your hands planted on the carpet just above his shoulders. You’re trying to readjust to the unfamiliar position when Thomas speaks.
“Just move naturally. It helps, just try it.” You start grinding against him, pelvis tilted downwards and find the contact with your pussy is much more direct. There's no searching for that perfect spot and trying to maintain it, because gravity has your clit pressed into his pubic hair. Everytime you rock backwards, you meet Thomas’ thighs whose angle propels you forward again. The result is that most of your range of motion is spent grinding your cunt against Thomas abdomen.
It's awkward and new at first. You’re thrown enough that it takes a while to get into a rhythm, but once you find it the sensation is transcendent. Your lids feel like they're falling open and closed, unable to focus, and you realize your eyes are rolling back in your head from pleasure.
“Yeah?” he pants, thrusting up to meet you.
“Mhm.” you nod enthusiastically, moaning open mouthed and fearless. When Thomas can’t get in time with you, he minimizes his movements and lets you use his body to get off. It’s so hot that you want him to fuck you, and struggle to verbalize their desire for several seconds.
“Want you now.”
“What do you want, leprotta? Tell me what you want,” he croons
“You. I want you now – now too,” you whimper, fingernails leaving crescent moon marks on the soft skin of his chest.  As you grow closer to orgasam keeping your eyes open becomes difficult for a myriad of reasons: self-consciousness, sensation, focus.
“You want me?” His confusion was understandable, considering the wanting was very much being acted upon at this moment. “You want me on top?” he guessed. You nodded, slowing your hips and immediately missing the sensation. Thomas sat up to help you, noticing that you were unsteady from the proximity of your orgasam. He was patient as you struggled to open your eyes, held your trembling hands as you got off of him and layed down.
“Good girl,” he praised. Even though you knew he didn’t mean it that way, your body still reacted dramatically, back arching up in search of his form. Thomas held himself over you and gingerly tried to align your bodies. You reached down, grabbing a hold of his slippery shaft, and directed him inside you. Once things were in motion, Thomas thrusted to the hilt, and let out a breathy groan. You allotted him two thrusts before making demands.
“Harder.” He furiously snapped his hips against yours, the collusion an explosion of sensation. Yet, as soon as his cock was there, it was gone again. Knowing words are usually the least effective way to communicate these things, you wrapped your legs around his hips. Using this grip you held Thomas against you, showing him the kind of contact that you craved.
“Like that.” You sensed him nod more than you felt or saw it. Thomas drove his hips forward vigorously, and as soon as your bodies could be no closer, he ground against you. It had your toes curling so severely that they cramped. You tried to say his name, but could never get more than one syllable or sound out.
“Ts, ts, tho – ommy” you gasped. “Tom – ta, ahm – ah please, please.” You gave up on real speech and resorted to mindless begging. When he lifts your leg up , ankle on his shoulder, you want to scream in frustration.
“What the fuck!” You dropped your head against the flooring, rolling your eyes and stamping your planted foot. Why do men stop doing the right thing during sex as soon as they’ve found it? He actually chuckles a little bit and your attention is brought to how pretty his green eyes look when his face is flushed. Thomas is truly giving this his all, fucking you with every bit of energy he has left after a long day.
His lips are parted and during a particularly forceful thrust a drop of saliva falls onto your cheek. It really should faze you, but it doesn’t because Thomas switches from pushing into you to grinding against you. With your foot up and legs open, he’s able to make more meaningful contact with your groin, and it's a new world of sensation. This does very little for his pleasure, but it's everything for yours.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you chant, the pitch of your voice climbing as your body is, towards climax. “I swear to fucking god if you stop this time,” you growl, slamming your open palm against the carpet as everything cramps up in preparation. Thomas whines, and you know it's because you’re so tight that this moment borders on painful for him. You take a couple erratic breaths and feel yourself spill over the otherside, this orgasam even better than the last. It's a total rush, sparkling serotonin starting in your abdomen then flooding your limbs and finally reaching your head.
Thomas grunts from the back of his throat during each of his final thrusts, pushing your ankle off his shoulder. His teeth are clenched and the vein in his forehead has started to make an appearance.
“Cum, I want you to cum, Tommy.” You tangle your fingers into his hair, using both hands to push it away from his face. Two conflicting things happen: Thomas starts to smile at the tenderness of your gesture, and he orgasams. Hard. His face reaxes, mouth falling open and his eyes flutter. He tries to catch himself, but ends up collapsing on you. Thomas scrambles to get his hands under him as soon as he can, but you dismiss his efforts.
“Hey, it’s okay! You’re fine, just chill here for a sec.” You stroke his head and ride out the aftershocks. Everytime your walls tense around his softening cock, Thomas’ entire body spasms. You rub his back, slow and soothingly, while kissing the crown of his head. It’s weirdly intimate for a first hookup, but the urge is organic. Thomas had just given you so much. It felt right to support him as he came back to earth.
“Um, I – sorry, I –” He strains to sit up and you shush him.
“Take your time.” Thomas relaxes against you. The moment is so sweet that you dread its ending even though it's just begun. Those feelings will likely change when he falls asleep on you.
Notes: I'm baaaccckkk :)
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