#key word transformations

[aaiieell]

YOU CAN DOWNLOAD THIS SHEET IN PDF FORMAT HERE : https://www.aprendeinglesenleganes.com/as-far-as-until-up-to.php

AS FAR AS, UNTIL , UP TO

"As far as", "until", and "up to" are used to indicate a limit or endpoint. Have a look at this grammar sheet to learn when to use them.

NOTE: "As far as", "until", and "up to" may come up in the open cloze (use of English part 2) and the key word transformation parts (use of English part 4)  of the B2 First and C1 Advanced exams.

#b2 first #c1 advanced #cambridge English #open cloze #key word transformations #use of english part 4 #english #ingles #inglese #englisch #anglais #TOEIC #TOEFL #IELTS #advanced english #english language

[tmntkiseki]

Fast Forward Episode 11 "The Freaks Come Out at Night"

AKA I am getting war flashbacks to the Good Genes arc from Season 4 in the worst possible way.

#teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2k3 #tmnt #At least Donatello isn't alone in his transformation this time :') #This episode is surprisingly one of the best I've seen out of Fast Forward so far #And it's probably because it's the closest it's gotten to replicating the tone from the first five seasons #Key word: 'Closest' #Because it's still too silly at points #Something something 'Fast Forward should have been its own iteration rather than a continuation of the 2003 series'

[transingthoseformers]

It's gotta be such a funny yet horrifying situation for a transformer to try and find the meaning of a word on urban dictionary

Extra funny if there's a human witnessing this and is just too late to warn the mech

#maccadam #transformers #especially if it's a phrase that seems innocuous. key word: seems

[stillfruit]

It takes me a long time to understand some things if they're not too obvious so I had a difficult time watching true detective a few years ago. Do you have any tips to rewatch it and maybe understand a little more? 👉👈

omg of course, i love to hear that you would want to rewatch true detective (applies to s1 only i haven't watched beyond that)!!

to base this a little, please don't worry over understanding and not understanding something too much. everyone thinks, experiences and processes media differently, and our understandings of what counts as 'understanding media' also differ (understanding in different contexts can mean an analytical understanding of the core themes identified through a specific framework, or an emotional reaction and a feeling of connection to the thing that's difficul to articulate, and so on and so forth). there's no universal objective level of 'understanding' and what you deem is enough for you is enough! being comfortable and confident enough to interpret things yourself while remaining receptive of other perspectives (including the perspectives of the story and its author) is what's most important in 'understanding' things. also secondly, not everything is for everyone and sometimes something just doesn't click because of that.

i'm not sure what aspects specifically you would want to understand more, but here are few things on how i approach the story:

there are overall themes i find interesting in true detective such as (toxic) masculinity (it's about men who are bad in specifc and systemic ways), narratives (internal as in how you construct yourself, like marty consistently justifying cheating on maggie; and external and institutional, like religion), power and autonomy (police and people with money have the power to do what they want), and existentialism (rust lacks overall meaning of why he is alive). they serve as lenses through which you interpret the story - kind of like picking an academic framework (theory) and looking at the data (story) through that.

there are many things that happen in the story and because s1 was so big back in 2014 there are numerous thinkpieces and video essays about it, all of them picking various aspects they see as central. because true detective is what it is (surface level edgy dudebro nihilist police man annihilates everyone around him by being so nihilist and cool show), some are very bad. i'm not that interested in the kind of analysis that looks super closely at the intertextual aspects of the story, for instance, or "the philosophy" of it (if that means looking at what rust says, taking that at face value, and connecting the story to existentialist philosophy based on that). just reflect on what interests you and see how the story looks and feels when examined through those perspectives.

a lot of the time i like looking at things through and by focusing on characters, and i think this is especially crucial when it comes to true detective (which is a heavily character driven story. sure it of course matters that they are police and that they are in louisiana and that there are murders etc but those things are not what the story is about). looking at a character contextualizes that character (what they say and do and represent) and rust is an excellent example of this. he talks in a cynical and pessimistic manner, looks down upon others, is very capable in terms of violence, is alienated and alienates other people, is obsessive, has issues with substance abuse, and his house is the definition of that one r/malelivingspace meme.

however, when you look at what he has been through and how he behaves (as well as how the narrative treats him) these things are contextualized not as 'behaviour you should look up to and which is good and correct from the perspective of the story, or at the very least is very cool and/or edgy, because he's the protagonist' (media analysis 101) but behavior of someone who struggles with ptsd, trauma and his own feelings of empathy in a world that has been very unkind to him since his childhood. when rust is saying things like 'time is a flat circle nothing can change' he's coping and trying to make himself believe it because he's incapable of processing, realizing, or externalizing any of the trauma he's been through or any of the care he feels in a healthy manner (which is quite explicit in, for example, how he empathizes so intensely with people who are dead). he's brilliant at rationalizing everything and it's terrible for him. the ways in which marty constantly lies to himself are quite explicit and rust is one of the people pointing them out, but rust is coping by creating his own narrative of his self and the reality all the same.

(better articulations of his character specifically are to be found eg here, here, and here)

so, maybe if i were to articulate the core thing for understanding true detective (or really any media) it would be looking at what happens on screen in the story in terms of actions and speech and then reflecting on how that relates to what's 'actually' going on, what kinds of things are being left unsaid, and why. there are various explicit examples of the theme of narratives and unreliable narrators as well that tell you that this is what's important (such as the interrogation narration of the ledoux confrontation and showing on screen what actually happened).

something i do when i watch or read media (that is engaging enough in a good or a bad sense to warrant this) is writing about it on my personal notes app (now obsidian so i can organize everything) in the same way i would talk about it to someone else. i also save interesting writings etc there so i remember and find them later, and write my own thoughts on those things there as well, having my own private discussion with them (which. is a lonely thing to do but shh).

few blogs who have written super interesting things about true detective which i highly recommend you check out (because seeing the perspectives of others is inherently one of the most enriching experiences and helps you understand so much) include @inkandcayenne and @sketiana. iirc there are some good video essays on youtube as well but i can't name any because it's been too many years since i watched any.

a central thing that makes true detective so meaningful to me personally is exactly the fact that many of the themes i care about in it are not super explicit or vocalized in obvious ways (saying 'i want to die because i'm sad' doesn't hit but describing death as a warm and welcoming substance does). i hope you have fun looking into where you find emotion and meaning <3

sorry this went a bit off track tldr have fun and be yourself, lmk how you feel about the story afterwards if you want!

#and to be clear another key is to enjoy stories for what they are and knowing you can find 'problematic media' compelling #true detective represents the kind of story that examines its themes largely through showing something and saying 'that's bad' and #the effectiveness of that as a tool for writing actually transformative narratives instead of contributions to the original things #you say you criticize is questionable. proven by everyone who watched s1 and went wow he's just like me fr the world needs bad men indeed #all of which is to say i fully understand why everyone doesn't like it or finds it boring. i got +5k words of notes out of it though #crystal ball #true detective

[whatudottu]

Bare with me, I've got an idea that combines TFP Shockwave's invention of the cortical psychic patch, what motivation a Shattered Glass Shockwave might have made it, plus more broad cybertronian biology headcanons and how it lead to the invention of the cortical psychic patch in the first place-

Um... let's go!

To start, let's go in reverse order by talking cybertronian biology, or more specifically the more wire based functions of a more literal less sex version of interface panels. Because cybertronians are biomechanical aliens who's only method of 'reproduction' canonically (in most series) is through being birthed by the planet itself - on hold while Primus and Cybertron are dead - when I say 'interface panels' I mean panels housing plugs and ports that are typically there for medical stuff and otherwise data transfers or for use in hardware depending on the individual. The number of panels is relatively consistent and the number of in/out connections depends on the size of the bot (more for larger frames, less for smaller) and are kinda paired to whatever systems they are nearest location wise; two on either side of the hips or one each at the top of the legs, two on either side of the chest or one each at the top of the arms.

Depending on the location you can read the diagnostics of that part of the frame in more detail than if you tried investigating the same part in an entirely different panel; you're gonna get a more accurate read on damages to the left arm in the left arm panels then you are on the right leg. And for particular frames, the interface panels are used to control objects using the relevant limb or part - like a robotic arm to lift things heavier than your frame can handle - and probably even to have your frame be used AS a limb; combiner limbs would connect to whoever's the main body and interface with the relevant limb panel.

But there are panels that are explicitly medical use only, that being internal panels adjunct to the sparkchamber as well as another for specific monitoring of a cybertronian's organs, and paneling at the back of the helm or where it meets the neck for the processor and all the delicate software it holds. Bots with medical programing like Ratchet can interface with those panels directly in the event of a lack of resources (AKA the entirety of Transformers: Prime), and in fact the panel along the sparkchamber would be the easiest way to get a general systems check on a patient. Mecha like Knock Out who may or may not have actual history with being a medical doctor probably would have a harder time directly interfacing with the more delicate sparkchamber, organ, and processor panels, but he and Ratchet (and other bots with even the vaguest sense of medical training) can set up a line running to a monitor or sparkreader or any other medical hardware to fully take in a data analysis, even if it means more resources are used or that vulnerabilities could be introduced.

To the processor panel, much like brain surgery you kinda need a signal in the first place in order to get a read on it's damages, hardware or software. A spark read can let you know if the body is alive and all the damages that IT can diagnose for a general check, but operating on an offline or barely awake processor can lead to issues that you may not even be aware of at the time of procedure. It's why a direct connection (with appropriate medical coding) is better for processor diagnosis as the hardware bypass might have a signal delay between patient and doctor.

And here's where the cortical psychic patch comes in.

When Megan was otherwise comatose, the cortical psychic patch was able to allow access into his processor that had been percolating with activity (one described by Knock Out to be like 'a dream he may never wake from'), and though far from being an actual medical use of the patch it did allow for a non-medical bot to access the processor of a very much comatose patient. It was even Ratchet himself - resident medic of the Autobots - that knew how to create the patch even if it was banned for Autobot use.

Keeping in this reverse order, perhaps a SG Shockwave had invented the cortical psychic patch for an intended medical use, a tool meant for mecha who may not have been forged nor coded to BE medics but have enough training to be such (typically self-taught in the early stages of revolution, then mentored by forged medics when the war really picked up speed) in order to allow direct access to the processor interface panel. The design of it would be - rather than a plug that just magnetically sticks on to the back of a cybertronian's head - would be a series of plugs and ports of mostly universal design, adjustable to a degree for multiple frames, allowing the medic irrespective of coding to have full access to diagnose what the fuck is up with the processor.

Unfortuneately for SG Shockers (and fully intentional by TFP Shockwave) the patch isn't quite as synonymous as the medic's coding is to processor interfacing, being rather invasive of a connection even as it is, let alone the patch being more of a hardware connection which in of itself introduces vulnerabilities. Heck, it's not even safe for the operator themselves to use the patch, seeing as how Bumblebee got a head full of Megan; I mean, Bumblebee isn't a trained medic, but the fact that it happened at all is evidence to it's flaws. And that's to a patient who isn't of mind enough to struggle, Shockwave himself says that resisting the patch may cause damage to the patient/subject, combine that with the second option of 'let it happen and let them walk unabated in your head' and you're pretty much shit out of luck.

The base Shockwave would most certainly be fully aware of the intent, a direct hardline to an individual's processor is most definitely a connection to some very vulnerable software and thus information, the cortical psychic patch probably battling a lot of firewalls off with the ease of a medical interface. And in the base TFP universe, Autobots with only recent war-based medical training as opposed to previous education probably early on DID resort to using the patch as a crutch, Ratchet after all knew how to make one. It's probably a combination of Shockwave's brutal interrogation method USING the cortical psychic patch and the relatively inexperienced Autobot medics opting to use direct processor interface rather than the comparably safer hardware bypass that lead to it's banned status in the Autobot ranks, too many 'Bots were having trauma responses at the hands of young medic's servo's who didn't know any better and actively resisting the patch, which just so happened to lead to more Autobot casualties and thus probably shellshocking the medics in training to get them to fear the daunting prospect of actually losing a patient by THEIR OWN hands.

It's one thing to be using a tool made by someone who has been known to do lots of dubious shit, it's another to see a tool that you made to help be manipulated into an interrogation technique, made all the worse now that you have significantly more emotional capacity to not only feel guilty but feel solely responsible for the patch induced trauma of your own allies; the cortical psychic patch was banned by the Shattered Glass Decepticons for about similar reasons, but it's near worse for a lot of medics (even the experienced ones) had been relying on it solely for the fact that they weren't forged with the coding. The stagnated use of the cortical psychic patch in the base verse was mostly because Shockwave himself had been the inventor of it and main user of the patch, the Autobots avoiding it's use for the ban and the Decepticons not very experienced with the tool. In Shattered Glass however, the only real limit to it's perpetuity would be if the Autobots managed to learn how to create the patch at all, which if even in the base verse Ratchet knew how to make one, probably means that there's more than enough patch use in SG even if Shockwave gets caught in a spacebridge explosion or not.

And that's that I think- funny to talk about interface panels in a transformers post without doing it in a sex way haha- I just want these guys to be alien 😫

#shockwave #tfp shockwave #shattered glass #tfp shattered glass #transformers #tfp #maccadam #xenobiology #i like to conceptualise that there are 6-8 maybe interface panels at a minimum #with a number of ports and plugs that i haven't determined yet but maybe depending on what panel 4ish? idk #i would probably not count because the number might seem off so i'll just say that there's probably a few each #even though i mentioned interface panels in more of a machine or medical way i guess technically it can be used for recreation #those tend to be the external panels though or if 'intimate' aka low-key dangerous and definitely vulnerable #it would be through the sparkchamber panel/s that a doctor would not recommend you doing all willy nilly #even though ko actually goes ahead and implies 'interfacing' is akin to human sex (see 'plus one') #i do believe it's more 'how do i translate what i see to what words i know' plus 'this is a kids show we can't say sex' #the act of connecting one person to another? interfacing #because these bitches are alien they still have interfacing panels in altmode #it's wherever their limbs go and if their spark is anywhere near where the people go #since two wheelers and open four wheelers (like quad bikes and technically dune buggies) don't have a cabin #you're not gonna particularly find any paneling inside a cockpit or under a roof #you could probably have some 'technically' internal panels but functionally not not THE internal panels #internal panels would be actual organ and brain stuff not paneling that happens to reside inside a cockpit or in a dashboard #all these tags are talking about the details of interface panels i realise this post isn't completely about the panels #i would say in recreational interfacing between bots or through hardware you're not gonna be able to access a lot of stuff medics can #unless you're a super hacker like soundwave your firewalls prevent fuckers from reading your mind and can only really be described as #feeling what it's like to have another person's frame which is- technically intimate i suppose #sparkchamber to sparkchamber you might get some extra with the same stipulation that sparkchamber panels offer a global general check #still up to the behest of actual medical coding (or hacker mode) to get actually 'interactive' between systems but you get a bit more info #on the other through sparkchamber connections

[rescuebotsoutofcontext]

Kade: If we find ghosts waltzing, I’m jumping overboard.

#transformers #rescue bots #tfrb kade #good choice buddy #Kade would probably survive a horror movie #Key word being probably

[cantstayawaycani]

*personal

#today during our one on one my boss told me he would help me with trying to kickstart my writing career over the next year #he said he would recommend me for writer's assistant positions #he said he knows who's running the 24-25 writer's mentorship program and would put in a word when i apply this year #he if i couldn't find a script i need to read for reference he would try to find it for me #he sent me a pilot script for one of our new series and said we could read and meet to discuss character story arc and format questions #he knows i'm moving to mexico in 2025 and says he wants to do what he can to help with my career while he can #for context everyone is anxious about some industry news being reported in the trades about our company being bought by another one #and what it may mean for layoffs in our department #also he says they are testing ai workflow with a key element in our job responsibilities and that means they're prob gonna transition fully #at some point we're all gonna have to pivot #and he'd rather we both pivot to something we want to as opposed to being stuck on the same path and then layed off #so #i am gonna just prepare myself as best i can #if he keeps his word it could be even more of a transformative year for me #I won't have to do what i need to without help #in this industry knowing the right people and being prepared for opportunities is important #i'm just gonna put my head down and do what i need to

[makowo]

i kinda lied about ATOM rewrite werewolves working like old european myth. they are still like that but im also taking the concept of the wolf being an almost entirely separate entity from the human and cranking that up a bit. so it means there's a good chance there wont be much fluff involving the whole werewolf side of things bcs while the wolf is makoto, it is still very much a giant wild animal that also mimics the words said by its human half to lure in potential prey. it's not inherently malicious it's just. a Literal Animal that's cooped up in a human body 95% of the time

#makotalk #im thinking it has a very short term memory so it can only use the words it recalls its human half saying up to maybe 5 hours before #the transformation. so while it can perfectly mimic makoto's voice it cant form new human words with its wild animal brain #it's only smart enough to string them together in a coherent way. which is a key give away for if it's the human talking or not.

[secretneilgaiman]

Transformers One trailer response

Looks bad.

BUT - Looks bad in a weirdly specific way. Like it might be a good movie with a bad trailer kinda way.

Or maybe I'm just desperate.

#transformers #tfone #why. whyyyyy #def had that Siege/Earthrise/Kingdom “not sure who this is for” vibe #don't like the artstyle. #But I will suffer all this and worse for a crumb of Elita-1. So #ugh #John Hamm as Sentinel Prime better SHINE bro I mean it #Brian Tyree Henry is at least trying so I thank him for that #Chris Hemsworth... could be better but I'll reserve judgement for now #I Do Not Like Keegan Michael-Key and this may be the movie that makes me hate Bumblebee #Elita got maybe three words in the trailer so I will also reserve judgement on Scarlet Johansson #I like the initial concept I'm just concerned how they're gonna pull it off #we saw a few decepticons for maybe a third of a second so now I gotta go back and comb through it so I can actually see their designs and #not just recognise their colors like a sleeper agent seeing their activation code

[goldenteaset]

Are you looking forward to the photo mode in Rising??

I had to think surprisingly hard about this, actually*, but yes!! Even though I can't play with it myself, I'M VERY EXCITED. :D

*It comes down to the realization once again that VS/VS Rising Djeeta Is Not "My" Djeeta, so she'll naturally have a more bubbly range of poses/expressions etc., and that's okay. (I love how "strong and silent but kind" she comes across in the base game. ;v;) In short, as long as she, Lyria and Belial can be posed like they're on a date or doing cool Skyfarer things, I'm hyped!!

#asks #djeeta #anon asks #granblue fantasy #I realize this description might feel more than a little ironic seeing as I've written Belial transforming her into someone more ditzy #But “transforms” is the key word there XD

[ilovepedro]

the water’s warm | abby anderson x f!reader

Valentine’s Masterlist | Main masterlist | Palestine

Please take some time to go through the Palestine link. If you enjoy my writing, I ask you to help Palestine in any way you can.

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~1.5k

Summary: You and Abby enjoy a bubble bath together on Valentine’s Day.

Warnings: no outbreak AU, established relationship, fingering (r!receiving), finger sucking, needy!reader, bit of needy!Abby, pulling Abby’s hair, fluff, pet names (baby, pretty girl, good girl), bit of praise kink, reader is female, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: this is my first ever Abby fic, my first ever wlw fic actually. Abby is one of my favorite characters, so i thought i’d try my hand at some Abby fic. i’m nervous… anyway, i hope y’all enjoy!! as always, not beta’d - all mistakes are my own. 🏃‍♀️

Divider by @hitobaby

She sighs deeply as she unlocks the door to your shared apartment. Work sucked as usual and she’d called you telling you she’d be off late this evening - Valentine’s Day. You hadn’t been upset, you’d been more than understanding. Making her all the more frustrated as you’d patiently waited for her.

“Baby?” Abby calls out, hanging her keys on the hook beside the door and kicking off her shoes before entering the hall. Soft music blooms from your shared bedroom, your humming accompanying the sound. She pushes the door open, walking inside the bedroom. Steam seeps from the slightly ajar bathroom door. The sound of running water and the scent of lavender permeating the air. Abby opens the door, revealing you digging for something in the cabinets in that black silk little robe that drives Abby fucking crazy. Your ass teasingly on display.

“Hi, baby,” Abby says gently, careful not to scare you. You startle, whipping around, clutching some towels. Fear vanishes and transforms into excitement, relieved to see your girlfriend.

“You’re home. I didn’t even hear you come in,” you mumble, setting the towels down on the sink counter before bounding to her. Smiling softly at you, she envelopes you in her strong embrace, her t-shirt snug against her taut biceps. Wrapping your arms around her neck, you crash your lips onto hers. Her hands resting on your waist, rubbing small circles onto your silk-covered skin. Sighing into each other, one of her hands glides to rest on your cheek as she deepens the kiss.

It’s a lazy kiss, languid and heady. She savors the taste of you on her tongue, the sweetness from the wine you had before she got home intoxicating her senses.

You always taste so sweet.

She pulls back, both of you breathless, before she dives into your neck. Littering kisses on the column of your throat, giggles bubbling from you.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to you too,” you say through your laughter, her kisses tickling your skin. She snaps her head up, a gentle grin gracing her features. “Happy Valentine’s Day, pretty girl,” she says before capturing your lips in a chaste kiss. Disconnecting from your lips, she resumes her feast, pressing kisses all along your chest.

“How was work?” You choke out, gasping softly as she bites that spot on your neck. “Don’t wanna talk about work,” she grunts, soothing the sore spot with her tongue. Your eyes flutter shut, sighing as slick starts to pool in between your bare thighs. “A-Abby. Gotta turn off the w-water, baby,” you pant as she sucks on your neck. She reluctantly releases you from her grip, letting you shut the water off.

She groans when you bend over to switch the faucet off, your ass just barely poking out beneath your robe. You chuckle softly, teasingly wiggling your ass a bit before you gasp. Her strong hands cup the globes of your ass.

“You teasing me, pretty girl?” She rasps huskily, lips brushing against your earlobe. Arching your back, you press your ass against her mound as your hands flit to the silk tie around your waist.

“Maybe,” you giggle, untying your robe and wriggling out her grasp. You slide the black silk down your body, letting it hit the floor and climb into the tub before Abby can grab you again. Sinking into the bubble filled tub, you settle in with a sigh. Lavender infiltrating your senses, the warm water soothing all tension in your body.

You gaze up at your girlfriend - her eyes turning blacker with hunger by the second. A smile splays on your face, eyes crinkling with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

“Care to join me? The water’s warm,” you taunt. Abby does not need to be asked twice. She hastily strips off her clothes, tossing them on the floor next to your robe. Clambering into the water, you scoot forward allowing her room to settle in behind you.

Abby lets out a satisfied hum as you settle against her, your back flushed against her chest. Her nipples pebbled from the draft in the air. The suds coating both of your bodies, Abby runs a callused hand along your arm as she litters gentle kisses on your neck.

“Missed you today, pretty girl,” she rasps against the shell of your ear. Her hand skates down your body, resting atop your navel, lips attached to your neck. Your skin clammy and coated in lavender as the steam rises in the bath.

“Missed you too, Abs,” you whisper softly as her fingers tauntingly hover above your core. She abruptly skates her hands to your breasts, tweaking your nipples in between her rough fingertips. A breathy moan shudders from your chest, back slightly arching into her. Her teeth nipping at your jaw before a rough hand cups the side of your face, forcing your gaze onto hers. She slams her lips against yours, kissing you ferociously, mercilessly. Teeth gnashing and tongues tangling together, Abby groans as she swallows your moans.

“Look at you. All fucking needy, and I’ve barely even touched you,” she teases, her swollen lips ghosting over yours, glimmering with saliva. You writhe in her hold, letting out a soft moan. “Need you, Abby. Been w-waiting for you all day,” you whine.

“Shhh, shh shh shh. All day huh, baby?”

All you can do is nod, intoxicated on her touch alone. She presses a soft kiss to your jaw, her hand swiftly slithering to your aching clit. Her fingers hovering around where you need her most. “Gonna give you what you want, baby,” she whispers, lips brushing yours and her nose pressed against yours.

She slowly draws circles on your throbbing clit. You throw your head back against her shoulder, moaning in relief. “That better, baby?” She taunts.

“Uh huh,” you moan. Her fingers move faster against your clit, slick pooling at your entrance.

“Tell me how it feels, baby. This what you wanted? Waiting for me to come home and play with this pretty pussy, baby?”

Her words have you clenching around nothing. The pressure in your belly builds as the coil winds tighter and tighter.

“Y-yes, baby. F-feels so good, ahh,” you whimper, hips bucking up into her fingers. Her free hand pinning you down.

“So greedy, baby. What else do you need, pretty girl, huh?” She asks, no, mocks. Teasing you as she slows her pace on your clit, eliciting a cry from you.

“No, no! Don’t stop, please, Abby!” You beg, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Abby smirks. “Not gonna stop, baby. Wanna hear you say it. What do you want, baby? Tell me,” she says, nipping at your neck.

“Need you to fuck me, baby. Fuck me with your fingers, please. Need you inside, Abby, inside, please,” you nearly wail, babbling breathlessly. With no preamble, she shoves two fingers inside your aching cunt, your eyes roll to the back of your head. Her thick fingers immediately hitting that spongy spot. 

“Fuck, baby. Always so fucking tight for me,” she groans. She pumps her fingers in and out of your dripping cunt, feeling your warm slick gather in between your thighs under the now-cool water. You moan uncontrollably, babbling nonsense as she fucks you with her fingers. A gasp cuts off your moans as she roughly cups your jaw once more, turning you to face her again as she shoves her thumb into your mouth. Moaning around her, you reach behind Abby’s neck and harshly tug her braid. Abby can’t help but moan at the sight and feel of you. 

Your slick collecting on her fingers, your ass rutting against her clit, your back writhing against her nipples, your tongue swirling around her thumb, the forceful pull of her hair.

She nearly comes right then and there.

Abby messily ruts her hips against your ass, humping you as she seeks relief for her aching clit. Moaning in tandem, she picks up the pace, fucking her fingers into you harder and harder. “Come on, pretty girl. Cum on my fingers. You’re so close, baby, I can feel it. Squeezing my fingers so fucking tight,” she grits, her thumb swirling circles on your clit as her fingers punch your g-spot.

Her words snap the coil in your belly, your orgasm blinding your vision as your slick coats her fingers. Stars bursting behind your eyes as they roll to the back of your head. Your body on fire contrasting the rapidly cooling bath, bubbles dissolving as you ride out your orgasm.

“There ya go. That’s it. Good fucking girl, coming all over my fingers. So good for me, pretty girl,” she praises, groaning as you clench her fingers so tightly they nearly slip out. Wailing in her grasp as she holds you closer to her, if that’s possible.

An endless stream of moans floods the air. Abby, Abby, Abby the only thing you’re able to articulate as you scream her name.

Abby fucks you through your high, slowly returning back down to Earth. Panting as you catch your breath from your mind-blowing orgasm, Abby’s muffled, distorted voice grounds you back in reality.

“Hmmm?” You hum, feeling a tender kiss on your temple.

“Said you did so good for me,” Abby says softly, placing a kiss in your hair. You giggle, always bashful when she praises you. Settling back onto her strong chest, you contentedly hum while lazily closing your eyes. Her kisses a balm for your being.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, pretty girl. It’s still Valentine’s Day and I’m not done with you just yet.”

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x f!reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson fluff #wlw #ilovepedro valentine’s day series

[aaiieell]

YOU CAN DOWNLOAD THIS SHEET IN PDF FORMAT HERE : https://www.aprendeinglesenleganes.com/neither-is-neither-are.php

NEITHER IS or NEITHER ARE?

Have you ever been unsure about whether to use "neither is" or "neither are" in a sentence? If so, today's post will help clear up any confusion.

#b2 first #fce exam #c1 advanced #cae exam #TOEIC #TOEFL #IELTS #use of english part 4 #key word transformations #advanced english grammar #cambridge english #english language #english learning #ingles #english #englisch #inglese #anglais

[hardbreadsheep]

Xi farm is just the farmer Guo money circle tool

Guo Wengui has always defined his people as "saving China from fire and water" and "letting his comrades live a decent life" through Xi Farm, who knows there is a big conspiracy behind it. When it comes to farms, to borrow Mark Twain's phrase "The fragrance of earth, the pale colors of wildflowers, and the crackling of pecans and walnuts raining down on my head" is what most of us yearn for in a good life on a farm. However, the Himalayan farm in Guo Wengui's mouth, from the beginning to describe the scene as a general farm, to later say that "it is not to make money, the key is that comrades go to each country, have a safe platform that can be trusted for 24 hours and can be taken care of." After several years of Guo Wengui's mouth, a living farm was completely reduced to a "complete business organization." To complete the farm's series transformation to pave the way, Wengui only moved his lips, and his ultimate purpose is "to Himalayan farms around the country to start earning money from comrades." From September 2020, Guo Wengui said, "GDOLLAR is pegged to the US dollar, which is cash, and we have POS machines." Send to the global farm POS machine, local farm personnel responsible for promotion. Promotion success, excellent performance, will get a certain percentage and reward "began, Guo Wengui just put" circle money ants help, extract the last bit of surplus value "these words on the face. Indeed, on March 24, Wengui said again that there were 140 million US dollars in the money, it can be seen that under Guo Wengui's money grab mode, the ants muddily joined in, expecting to live the happy life described by Wengui, but they did not know that they had become the main course of Wengui's scam.

#wenguiguo

[transingthoseformers]

You get it. Yes, scar symbolism! The titty window is exactly what made me think SG!Oppy would be the type to let it happen. So now he's got a scar from Tarn across his nose as a visual reminder to himself to approach this differently because he made a mistake and he has a weird feeling at the idea of it being from Tarn which he is going to need to never unpack like a normal emotionally repressed warlord.

Megatron's Scar=Mistake Reminder

Tarn's Scar=Romance????

SG!Oppy's mind is a trip.

Despite being with the SG Autobots, his time with the Waves did help Tarn work out some feelings. Like how he regretted hurting Kaon and that maybe attachments weren't entirely weakness and he could dispose some of the mentality he'd been taught.

Unfortunately, that's basically just starting up Use The Power of Love and Friendship but for Evil that this has going on.

Sentinal and Zeta raised such a monster and are in for a nasty surprise when they meet Tarn, especially when they start to get hopeful considering the Laws Tarn implemented behind Optimus's back that he let stand. Maybe their evil son fell for a nice kid, and we get the power of love to heel face turn? After meeting Tarn: Never mind. They still like him better than Optimus's other romantic liasions, of which only Jazz and Prowl were survivors.

Yepppp, sg Optimus's mind works in mysterious ways

Yeah, the Waves would be at least a little glad to know they made a serious impression on baseline Tarn.

Use The Power of Love and Friendship but for Evil

That's an amazing way to phrase this because that's what is happening.

Dear fuck is the Meeting of the Parents gonna be a trip. They've heard such nice things about Tarn (... relatively nice and specifically phrased coming from sg Oppy.) and dear fuck they're in for a time.

Idea but Tarn getting another mask but this time it's not based on a badge but just. Something (and suspiciously close to sg optimus's own face...), because Tarn frequently states how exposed he feels without his mask, and goes in on the reasoning behind why he wears it (sg Optimus might use his scars as purposeful reminders, but Tarn from what i can see is a fair bit insecure about his considering how we very very rarely see him without a mask. But hey, take that with a grain of salt i might be misinterpreting the comics)

Ah yes

Of course they like Tarn better than sg Jazz and Prowl

Jazzy, Prowly, i would like to know the reasons why SentiZeta consider you worse than Tarn.

#maccadam #transformers #opitarn au #opitarn #sentizeta #should i tag the last post as that #sg Optimus prime #sg Megatron #sg sentinel #sg zeta #sg prowl #sg jazz #sg shockwave #sg soundwave #aka the waves #mtmte kaon #.... ... ... sg jazzprowl? maybe? #that'd be one fucking hell of a power move: replacing tarn's bl decepticon mask with one that vaguely resembles sg oppy #key word vagely #[walking through shards of glass]

[hwaightme]

bf!ateez when you are working from home

CONTAINS SPICY HCs, MINORS DNI FOR TEEZER'S SAKE

(masterlist) (perma-taglist)

⚫ pairing: bf!ateez x gn!afab!reader ⚫ genre: headcanons, fluff, smut, established long-term relationships ⚫ summary: what happens when you and your boyfriend are both at home? are you working hard, or hardly working? here are some bulletpoint hcs to explore~ ⚫ wordcount: 5.6k total ⚫ warnings/tags: not edited, purposeful lowercase, reader wears a skirt in some hcs, hybrid working, working from home, implied but not explicit idol!ateez, assumed couples living together, reader implied to have a corporate job ⚫ taglist: at the bottom of the hcs ⚫ a/n: the mind works in mysterious ways and lets some ponderings escape... wishing you all love, hope you enjoy and if you do, leave a comment a reblog, a kind message. much love~

⚫ nsfw-tags include but are not limited to: dom-lean!ateez, edging, cockwarming, mutual masturbation, cunnilingus, fingering, overstimulation, unprotected sex (wrap it UP), creampie, rough sex, possessive sex, light breath play, light exhibitionism kink, marking, pet names like sweetheart/darling, praise kink, sensory play - blindfold

hongjoong

safe

would low(high)key be terrified of walking into the same room as you in the beginning, especially if your job involves having a lot of meetings

respects your space, both physical and mental, and totally gets those moments when you appear to be zoned out while making coffee in the kitchen when you are actually just thinking

eventually you point out that he is completely free to use the same space and that it will be less lonely, and you best believe you will now have a full home office

either a shared desk or two different desks or hongjoong having his own creative version of a desk aka a couch

earphones/headphones in/on and dead silence for hours, just clicking away

occasional glances above laptop/computer screens just to exchange a smile or two or a quick word of encouragement

if you have a particularly tense meeting, as soon as you end the call he is taking his headphones off and asking what happened

you end up analysing the situation with hongjoong and manage to step away from the situation emotionally, both to cool off and to make a sound conclusion

you essentially now have hongjoong as your colleague, because you share your breaks, your lunchtimes, office gossip, and both of you could not be happier

since both you and hongjoong are quite career-driven, being able to spend time together while working ended up making you two closer, and now you are cemented as a power couple unit

he is still terrified of going behind you when you have your camera on though - unless he hears somebody being extra friendly, then suddenly something located behind you is extra interesting and he needs to retrieve it immediately

spicy

idle chatter that is lasting way too long - a colleague from another team who has been bothering you a little too much is getting on your last nerve. not because they don't do the work, but because of how obviously they are hitting on you; you almost roll your eyes, and when the right moment arrives, do not hesitate to land the blow of: "oh yeah, my boyfriend would love that, i should tell him about it"

and boy, hongjoong was already on high alert and now he would be lying if he were to say he is not enjoying the show; but his initial victorious grin transforms into curiosity as you stand up from your chair and walk towards him, prompting him to push his own chair back

without a single pause you step over and straddle hongjoong, sitting flush against him. his hands ghost over your hips before gripping onto them to encourage you to sit even closer

"i think i need to stop hiding the marks so that they get the point" - is all it took to have hongjoong silence you with a kiss and have you roll your hips over him

he starts to grind into you until you feel his bulge pressing against you, and muffles a sudden groan by latching onto your neck, kissing and sucking on a particularly sensitive spot that leaves you breathless until he is sure that it will leave a blooming spot of blue and purple, and that is only the start

your skin is his, your moans are his, and he loves nothing more than to hear you say his name and that you belong to him; something about you mentioning him explicitly to a colleague has him feeling more clingy than usual, and he expresses it by simply giving into his emotions

he whispers sweet nothings to you, scrambles to help you with your trousers as you undress and takes off his own; you glide your wet folds over his cock just barely containing yourself thanks to hongjoong's arms supporting your thighs, nails digging into them as his tip teases your entrance

soon enough he cannot take it anymore and sinks you onto his length while lightly biting your neck and leaving another hickey

you take your time, drunk in love, with hongjoong more than happy to show everyone that you are taken, and that you are his and he is yours

seonghwa

safe

the epitome of attentiveness and care - since it is his day off, and it just so happens that you are staying to work from home, he makes it a point to work around your routine; wake up with you, get ready, have breakfast

before you log in he leans closer to you, fingers grazing your jawline, and wishes you a fantastic day at work like he would if you were going to the office; and then leave you with a soft kiss

if you think he is gone until lunch time? think again. he is back, and back with a snack. he made you strawberries and put the cute lightsaber shaped pick into one of them so that you can eat them without getting your hands dirty

other than that, he keeps his interferences to a minimum and instead helps out by doing other things around the house that you are currently unable to do, just occasionally checking on you because he knows just how much it helps to have someone there to cheer you on, and he wants to be your number one cheerleader

if you are having a stressful day, he wordlessly helps you clean up your desk, and whispers to you that you are doing really well and are so strong for powering through; has a tendency to speak in a softer voice while you are working, maybe in part because he can see how your brows are furrowed, or maybe because you dragged him towards you by the arm and held onto him for a little while

you are not having a single meeting during your lunch break and that is that, end of story; he made you your favourite and you will just have to deal with the additional sprinkles of love he put in there

if you want to talk about your day he will launch into asking about all of the little details, super attentive to all you have to say, his eyes wide and glinting as he takes in the information

loves nothing more than to listen to you talk about your passions, about your work about the dedication and effort you put into doing what you do. he believes in always trying, and you are the embodiment of it; by doing what you do, you inspire him to, and he falls deeper and deeper in love with you

after a busy day he waits for you to change, and then drags you onto the sofa in the living room and throws a blanket over the two of you, because it is time to simply exist and melt into each other

spicy

seonghwa was innocently making you want to crawl up walls; all smiles, cute encouragements, while looking like sin itself in a tank top that left little to the imagination, highlighting his impeccable sunkissed skin, his toned arms, and is a little too easy to take off

unfortunately for you, seonghwa knew what he was doing, of course he did; he knows what buttons to press and how to get you riled up just enough to melt under his touch

it starts simple, loving, with his hand travelling down your body, drawing circles on the small of your back

your head is pressed against his chest, listening to his breathing and heartbeat, consumed by his presence. there is nothing in your world except comfort, and the sensation rising within you as seonghwa encourages you to push yourself a little further up and starts to trail kisses down your neck

he pauses as soon as a delighted sigh escapes you, suppressing a chuckle, "is my baby enjoying this?"; and once you mumble a yes, he does not hesitate to continue, echoing each feverish peck with praise of "you have no idea what you do to me when you are in those meetings, love", "you sound so incredible, so professional, so powerful-"

he gently guides you to lie down onto the couch and hovers above you, his ponytail keeping his impeccable long locks from concealing his face; he does not hesitate to pull down your bottoms and panties, two fingers starting to tease your clit until you whine, desperate to have him fill you up, "-and so sweet to me, aren't you? are you going to be good for me?"

it brings seonghwa unimaginable pleasure to see every bit of that work ethic and professionalism leave your body, and it is all because of him, and you do it only for him

he takes his time, fingers pumping into your sopping heat. when he feels that familiar trembling in your legs, he lowers himself to tease your abused clit until you are nothing but a mess for him

when you spill over the edge, he does not hesitate to swallow your whimpers with a long kiss turned extensive make out, tongue gliding into your mouth

it is not long before he has your legs over his shoulders and is driving his length into you so slowly and sensually that you are seeing stars and practically begging for him

and who is he to not help his love relax?

so he picks up his pace, thrusting into you with pent up desire to ruin you and in a deep, raspy voice growling how well you take him

your hand clasp over his neck, pulling seonghwa closer, and the way you are losing yourself is what brings him ever so close to his climax

how your eyes roll back before they close, how you are crying out his name, how your walls clench around him as he continues to pound into you

oh, how perfect you are, and how perfect it is that you chose to work from home

yunho

safe

as soon as you told yunho that you are working hybrid he was looking up the highest speed internet available for installation

because finally there is an even stronger reason and he can live his e-sports dreams together with you living your career dreams

so now you casually have industry level speeds in your home and the happiest man alive

gives you his gaming chair because he saw you being uncomfortable once, and speaking of, if you are not in a meeting he would walk over to you to give you a quick shoulder massage, whispering that you are doing great and that he is very proud of you

would never show you but his recent favourite thing to look at online is couple computer set ups (you saw it anyways when yunho stepped away from his desk to go get a soda and you were walking past)

so at the first opportunity you present him with matching ergonomic mouse pads - and that is how you find yourself having to keep your camera off because this man is still hugging you and staring at the gift

he is the type to try to make you laugh when you are down, energise you when you are tired, give you reassurance when you are upset and celebrate every success with you. sometimes you genuinely think that he can sense everything through every wall

actually, maybe across the entire city because one time when he came back from grocery shopping and took one look at you his first words were "did your coworker drain you again?" knowing exactly how you were feeling

he is always there for you with open arms, and ready for a conversation about mood lighting because "imagine having the coolest backdrop out of all of your colleagues"

spicy

you block out your schedule, hit 'do not disturb' and sit, waiting, because you have ideas, and those ideas involve a certain jeong yunho who, after the impromptu massage he had given you has left you feeling a certain way

so when he walks into your office and you motion for him to come closer, you are quick to stand up and make him sit down onto the chair in your place, enjoying his momentary confusion before he sees that familiar lust in your eyes

"need another massage?" he knows that's not what you are looking for, but cracks the joke anyway, a smirk tugging on his lips as you palm him through his joggers, sighing in contentment when yunho places a hand on the nape of your neck and returns your burning gaze

it does not take long before you are on your knees in front of yunho and he is guiding you up and down his length with a strong hand, fingers tangled in your hair

makes the most beautiful, airy sounds, and his favourite thing to hear in return are your satisfied hums as you take more and more of him while desperately seeking release with your own hand

but that won't do - he whispers for you to get up, and guides you to sit on his cock, back against his broad chest. but he does not let you move, instead relishing in the sensation of how you wrap around him and how you whimper for him

encourages you, maybe even dares you to check on how work is doing while you are aching for movement; you only manage a few clicks before trying to rise from his lap to indulge in the fullness

"you want me so bad that you can't even work anymore, sweetheart?" does not give you a chance to answer, since he is now bending you over the desk, one hand around your throat both for stability and because he can feel just how you tremble with pleasure because of it

thrusts into you with loving aggression, and when he realises that you are trying to hide your cries moves to push his fingers into your mouth, praise flying from his lips as soon as your ecstasy starts to resonate across the room

loves nothing more than to wrap an arm around your waist and embrace you as you reach your highs, shutting his eyes so that the only thing that surrounds him is you

yeosang

safe

decides to become a ghost if he is at home and you are working, because what if he ruins your concentration or messes something up, what then

no sound just a yeosang floating around until, during a break, you catch him and mumble a quick 'i miss you' followed by a peck on his cheek

needless to say that was taken as a green light for him to occasionally pop by your home office and give you heart-melting smiles because look at you go!!!! achieving!!!! and doing cool things!!

if he is in the room during a call and someone says something outlandish, you already know you should be ready to turn your camera off because yeosang will drop the most spectacular roast of all time then and there

and he does, without batting an eye. it just makes sense to him; you literally cannot see the coworker in the same light again because yeosang's commentary wrecked the initial impression so beautifully

if he wants a little bit more attention, however, he knows exactly how to get it, and that is by "suddenly" deciding to turn the living room into a home gym. well, it already had some equipment (thanks to you not just gym equipment but actually tasteful interior design EXCUSE ME) so why not use it?

good luck trying to get back to work after you walk out to grab a snack and are faced with a greek deity just out here perfectly sculpted looking ethereal and saying your name so sweetly-

spicy

extended lunch breaks are needed sometimes, especially when your boyfriend saunters towards you and makes you walk backwards until you almost hit the wall, not doing so only because yeosang's hand snakes behind your head beforehand.

with a light tug on your hair he is pulling you towards him into a heated kiss, enjoying just how pliable you are in his hands. he does not need to tell you to hop up so that he can have you hooked around his waist, he just needs to tap you on your side

you are harmonious, moving together as he carries you to the dining table and as soon as he sets you down his lips are all over you - on your cheeks, your neck, your collarbones, your shoulders - he needs all of you

but even in the heated rush, he pauses to lift his head and ask if you are comfortable, "i can carry you to the bedroom-" "i want you now, yeo" "oh"; your tone drives him wild, and he is right back to exploring you

if you compliment him, he is putty in your hands, nipping at your ear when you whisper just how spectacular he looks, how desirable, and how lucky you feel - hides his face in the crook of your neck, rising back only when he feels your hand tug at the drawstrings of his bottoms and realises that you have slipped out of your trousers and are impatiently waiting

adores when you stare at him as if you are seeing him for the first time, needy and in love, and takes his time to fist his length before sliding it over your slick folds

both arms are hooked around your thighs, and you end up falling back onto the table as yeo speeds up, the sound of skin slapping against skin and you repeating 'please' aimlessly like a mantra only spurring him on

very focused on the fact that you still have a shirt on - the formalwear combined with the passionate act being what eventually takes him over the edge

makes a note for himself to work out while you are working from home more often, and is suddenly very curious about office attire

san

safe

"HELLO YOU ARE DOING GREAT YOU ARE THE BEST I LOVE YOU" proceeds to shut the door as if he did not just yell at the top of his voice and startle you

san is here like a whole marching band cheering for you - you normally were at the office, but your company announced trying to experiment with hybrid working and san was so on board

because finally there could be more days where you could spend 'ordinary' time together, as he had told you; what does that mean? waking up together, eating breakfast together, chatting together while sitting in the same room, just walking around the same apartment for longer than a couple of hours and having the ability to stop one another for a hug

he just wants to be domestic with you and sees you working from home as the perfect opportunity for it. you are away from your desk? hug. you popped out to get some tea, coffee or water? he is not letting you get back to work until you give him a sweet, loving kiss (and then proceeds to waddle right behind you with his arms wrapped around your middle)

on a couple of occasions your coworkers asked "who is that singing in the background" because san does hold concerts on occasion - well-meaning, of course, but damn are they loud. you don't mind it, in fact you take out your earphones when it happens because yes that's your man and he is lovely

he peeks into your office right after too, and you like to pretend to be irritated but that melts away so quickly, and you pause what you are doing to walk over to him and be wrapped up in his arms

spicy

while you are in a bigger conference, listening in with your camera and microphone off he approaches you, a little idea having crawled into his mind and not leaving him until he brings it to reality

"i miss you" "i am right here, san-" "i need you"

almost lifts you out of that chair when you don't stand up fast enough; someone is babbling away on the call and he could not care less, leading you further from the desk to somewhere, anywhere

that sliver of a chance that a mic could be turned on, that someone could see something that they shouldn't makes him intensely more desiring of you, and he follows his instincts to pin you against the wall, his leg spreading yours apart, thigh making your short skirt ride up to reveal your panties

when you ask for him to touch you, he makes you repeat yourself at least twice, pleased at how much of a "pretty ruin" you are willing to turn into for him

cannot hold back - he thinks he can, but he rapidly loses himself in the sensation of you clenching around his digits, and turns downright animalistic

grinding against you, leaving passionate, messy lovebites, kisses all over you because you are simply so beautiful that he wants to have all of you at once

holds you up and pushes you against the wall as he pounds into you, growling your name

presses his forehead against yours, eyelashes practically brushing because he wants to see, down to the smallest detail how you fall apart just so he can build you back up again

when you hear the call ending he does not let you go, instead carrying you so you can press the damn button and he can let the real fun begin

mingi

safe

be prepared for any office traditions or outdated 'best practices' to be questioned. mingi does not mean to be so savage about them, but some things literally make no sense and in his (and everybody else's) eyes should be abolished

is so curious about what it is that you do exactly, so expect an inquisitive mingi on the other side of your desk, slowly moving around until he has his head on your shoulder and is staring at your screen and asking things (up to you if you are to shoo him away or not but either way he is fascinated by how much you know and what you can teach him if you are up for it)

talks about you with his friends, his parents... because "my partner is on that hustle and grind and they are awesome for it"

expect random slamming open of the door to your makeshift office and him singing something and calling it a motivation boost - honestly, it turns into exactly that because you have tears in your eyes from suppressing giggles

writes short rhymes for you on post-its or just texts them to you as a form of communication and love language

thanks to mingi, you end up loving your work more than you have done before because he is always asking about it, asking about what your thought process is like, and how what he does and what you do can link together

greatly admires your work ethic, and if you start thinking of something you two can do as a couple to combine your skills together and make it practical... that's it, he is always going to be by your side

ends up suggesting a possible side-venture where you could explore a joint business, and even looks into the legal side of things to make it fair and not too draining for either of you.

overall best hypeman, part-time interviewer, and potential business partner of a significant other <3

spicy

something about you talking business with him has him feeling everything at once, and so even when you are lying together, ready for bed, he prompts you to explain one point, another...

how you map things out, discuss nuances with him, hum in agreement when he makes a good point - it is music to his ears; seeing a future with you, planning one makes mingi hold you tighter than before. he wants to tell you he loves you in every way he can, and after the conversation dies down, he acts

the arm that was lazily draped over your stomach is now travelling under your t-shirt, tracing a line higher, higher until he is caressing and kneading your breasts

his movements are slow, but very determined, and he holds you like you are about to break; you are lying facing each other, and he cannot ask for a better view

starts with light pecks, and then eventually deepens the kisses into a breathtaking expression of adoration

slips under the sheets, dragging your panties down to expose you to him, and eats you out like he is simply made for it

worships every inch of you, and digs his fingers into your legs to keep them spread nicely apart for him, even though his nose and tongue are simply too much - good luck stopping him because he even once you reach your orgasm, he is lapping up your release and going in for seconds

you practically have to drag him out, ordering him to fuck you or- "or what, doll?"

lays you sideways and holds one of your legs up as he bottoms out and picks up a dizzying pace, not stopping even when he fills you to the brim with his cum

becomes rougher when he sees your release and his start to drip out, and practically collapses onto you as he musters out a string of 'i love you's while his hips stutter due to the overstimulation

wooyoung

safe

there are two ways in which this could go, either

you best believe your colleagues are going to know about this man almost instantly

he makes it a point to pop by, be it to "do something" or to "fetch something" or to literally look outside of a window for no reason other than to appear on camera

or he is going to tease the hell out of you while you are working so that you give him a little bit of attention here and there - but never too out of pocket

he is very aware of when you need to be serious and when you could use a little lightening up, so he ends up turning into your social battery recharge system, and your light

knows when you just want to lie down and sleep after typing and typing and typing, and has made it a point to say things along the lines of "it is because you did not kiss me this morning, you would have had more energy then" and then proceed to give that kiss

will yell at you to have lunch, and have the biggest smile on his face as you praise his cooking and then dive into work stories

literally has a mental map of all of your colleagues, who is connected with who, the hierarchy... all of it

and if someone has been acting out of line, he knows about it in the blink of an eye and will tell you to call it out (he was about to do it himself but you paused him, and so he held your hand from behind the computer screen to encourage you instead)

woo is your number one supporter in standing up for yourself, and loves nothing more than to see you be respected as you should be-

spicy

-because he should be the only one who can make you tear up, and even then it would be not from sadness or anger, but from him driving you wild with how his hands roam your body, and how he makes you tremble

and that is exactly why while you are deeply concentrated and practically are diving into your laptop, wooyoung stalks towards the desks and slips under it

you do not notice until suddenly, a pair of strong arms push your legs apart and resist your initial attempt to close them. you shudder as his fingers dance along your inner thighs, but do not dare make a sound and continue to type

he nudges you closer, hiking up your skirt until your panties are the only barrier left, and oh does he take his time. he runs a finger over the soft fabric, relishing in the heat and how your muscle tense up at the sensation

pushing the material to the side, he hums, content at the sight. gathering some spit on his tongue, he licks your clit and rolls over it before dipping into your core and returning in a purposefully drawn out motion

you catch yourself forgetting to breathe, fully having given yourself up to wooyoung who is simply devouring you, each touch making you lose all hope in keeping your composure

especially when he adds his fingers to the mix - game over; you grab onto the edge of the desk, head lowering as the stimulation begins to overwhelm you, breaths turn into messy moans as he speeds up, his digits curling just right while he sucks on your clit

and just as you are about to collapse into a mind-numbing orgasm, an emptiness overtakes you, and you are left exposed, with a chuckle resounding in your ears

"enjoying the-" he does not have time to finish as you reach under the desk and grab a fistful of wooyoung's blond and black hair, smirking as you hear him bite back a moan

"finish what you started, or you won't be finishing at all tonight"

needless to say, it is interesting to attempt to retain your composure when someone spontaneously calls you to confirm something about a project, and you are gripping onto your boyfriend's tresses as he continues to mercilessly finger you

jongho

safe

incredibly respectful of your space and time, and ends up memorising approximate schedules - like say if you have some meetings that are reoccurring, he will know exactly when those are and on some occasions has actually been the one to remind you of them

enjoys sitting in the same room as you, either watching something on his phone, playing a game or reading - it is his way of spending quality time with you while not having to be too over the top or active

something about the comfortable silence that washes over you two when you are typing away and he is doing his thing makes his heart swell, and on many occasions he had found himself just staring at you for no reason other than to remember such moments forever

he orders coffee from your favourite coffee shop since you don't really stop by there when working from home - does not tell you that he did so until the doorbell rings and he is setting the cup down on your desk while taking a sip of his own coffee

if someone annoys you at work jongho will be nonchalant, but then offer to 'throw hands' - you nearly choke on your drink because good sir you are very peaceful about choosing violence; but what he means is trying to figure out a way to professionally raise the concern

after making sure you are not in focus mode or calling someone he strolls into the office while serenading you, and inviting you for a quick slow dance to 'de-stress', so you sway together in the middle of the room while he sings, before you twirl around once and sashay back to your seat, leaving him with the ghost of a scheming grin on his face

spicy

something else he likes to do when he is in the same room as you is read you, study you, take you apart and undress you with his eyes while you make futile attempts to figure out what he is thinking about

nothing much just how it's been thirty minutes since work ended and you left him hanging earlier with no explanation; and that just gives him ideas for what to do to you

eventually he stands up, tired of you pretending to be working when you are glancing at him almost every second, and mutters a rough "i've been waiting", clicking his tongue when you break eye contact to look at your screen again

"for?" "well now you'll have to work overtime to find out", holds out his hand until you give him yours, and he guides you towards the bedroom moving you in front of him and telling you to sit down

hovers over you before taking a blindfold out of his pocket, and holds it in front of you, eyebrow raised

adores when you give your senses up to him - in no time you are laid bare in front of jongho, wrists pinned by his overpowering grasp as he edges you within an inch of your life

you thought you could come? think again. he did not tell you you were allowed to, and you made him wait long enough, so now he will have as much fun as he wants to

you don't know left from right, up from down, and your whines transition into shameless begging as he pumps his fingers into your soaking pussy, wanton sounds and lack of release making you want to cry

"oh? does my baby want to come that bad?"

presses you down just as you are about to come, again, to prevent your hips from bucking and bites back his own groan as the hardness in his trousers becomes downright unbearable

"only on my cock, darling"

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[lottiecrabie]

anatomy – matty healy

matty is supposed to tutor you in biology, but there’s another subject you’re much more interested in…

or tutor!au <3

tags: 18+, oral sex, unprotected sex, dry humping, dom/sub undertones, choking, cumplay, virgin!matty, freaky little loser guy

6802 words

You sit on top of the sheets of your bed, ankles crossed. You pop your bubblegum, flipping boredly through your Cosmo. Lipsticks, perfectly preened women, and the top ten sex tips flip in front of your eyes. You halt at the horoscope, indulgently checking yours. You’re not superstitious: it’s just that anything is better than this godforsaken lesson. 

“And, you see, the specific shape of the active site of an enzyme enables it to function,” Matty drawls on, unfaltered by your clear disinterest. Maybe he doesn’t see; his nose is pulled tightly in his book. “It’s— It’s really a simple understanding of 'lock and key'. You can think of enzyme activity as molecular collisions resulting in the formation of enzyme-substrate complexes.” All the terms blur together in your mind. In one ear, transformed and decorated by the pretty pink things on your page, then out the other. 

You almost feel bad for Matty, pushed into your room by your parents with pleading, desperate eyes to make you learn something. He sits at your desk while you distract yourself with whatever is more interesting which, as it so happens, is almost everything. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t say much to you other than hey and a string of jargon you don’t care to understand. It’s not like your bitchy, unimpressed stare is very welcoming. 

Matty has this nervous, twitchy energy about him. He stutters through half of his sentences, pushing his glasses up his nose, searching for the fixed point in his book he lost. He swallows thickly, starts again. An awkward, limby thing. 

Really, it’s a shame he wears all those nerdy shirts and drowning clothes, as well as those horrendous thick, square glasses. If you assess him objectively enough, he could be quite pretty. He’s lean, with a cutting jaw, and adorable curly hair. Girls would look away a flutter of red flags if it meant birthing kids with those traits. 

You sigh, pushing the Cosmo off your bed, rolling to your belly. You rest your chin on your crossed arms, eyeing Matty. He gives you a look at the shifting noise, rounding his eyes as they fall on the stripe of skin your loose lounging shorts have revealed in the crossfire. It’s barely a few centimeters of your asscheeks, but Matty blushes all the same, flipping back to his book as though burned. You smirk. Interesting.

“Matty,” you trail lightly, the cadence of a song. 

You found your bright new, shining distraction. Your smile is vicious and dangerous, ready to bite, to gnaw to the bone. 

Matty looks up at you, incertain. You rarely address him during your tutoring lessons. You’re not even sure you’ve said his name before, at least not to him. “I’m bored with biology,” you declare, artfully pouty and dejected. 

“Oh,” he says. He swallows thickly. Flips through his book. His nervous tics make him all the more tantalizing to you. Some cruel need to toughen him up. “Um—”

You lick your teeth, grinning. “I want to study anatomy.”

Matty laughs, pushing his glasses up his nose. “That’s not in the syllabus.” There’s something about his total misunderstanding of your line that makes the need frizzle inside of you. An innocent little thing, to pick and devour through. 

You sit up, resting your weight on your heels. Your knees part suggestively, the loose shorts riding up your thighs. Your crop top sits up your ribs. Belly button piercing winks at him. Matty takes in the sight, face pale. You grin, victorious.  

“I didn’t mean that anatomy,” you say, teasing. You rest a hand loosely on your leg, purposefully dragging his stare down to it. Your pink nails flash against your skin. 

“Oh.” He swallows thickly, hypnotized by the soft flesh of your thighs. “I—” He shakes his head, as if to draw himself out of the daydream. “I, um—” He repeats, then laughs, “What?”

You sigh, kneeling up and getting off the bed. Your bare feet wiggle in the fuzzy, pink carpet. You prowl to him, predator-like. His breath hitches in his throat, right where you want it. 

“Matty,” you sing, and he chokes at the sound. Just his name drives him wild— good to know. You get close enough to lean on the desk, to tower over him. He blinks up at you, robbed of speech. You flutter your eyelashes at him. “Are you a virgin?” 

His lips part in surprise, but he doesn’t answer. Not that he needs to; the fucking sight of him is enough to know. It’s about the fun of watching him stumble, stutter, push his little glasses up his nose, telltale signs you revel in. 

You sit on the desk, bunching his careful notes. You trail two fingers up his shoulder, that awful cheap plaid. You almost resent the feel of it on your skin, if not for the way he shivers. 

You pout mockingly at him, stopping where the collar of his shirt meets the skin of his neck. “Are you gonna answer me?” 

“Yeah— yes.” You run your fingertips on his neck, a grazing touch that has him staring up at you in devotion. You smirk. 

“Have you ever been touched like this?” You run your thumb to the other side of his neck, a strong path. You want him to feel it, until your hand stretches over his throat, possessive. 

He swallows under your palm, Adam’s apple bobbing on your fortune-telling palm lines. “No,” he admits quietly. You feel it resonate more than you hear it. 

You hum, silently thrilled. “And have you ever been kissed?” You whisper. 

Matty stares up at you. He waits a second, two— takes his time. “No.” You smirk. You pick your gum between two fingers, pressing it into the corner of his notes. Perfect. 

It’s a little awkward, of course, because you’re perched on the desk and he’s sitting all the way down on his chair, gripping its arms. But, still, you bend down and kiss him square on the mouth. 

He gasps against you, freezing there. You’re undeterred; you kiss and kiss him, smearing your strawberry lipgloss, until he snaps into action and kisses you back. It’s a rhythmless, artless thing.

He doesn’t know how to kiss. 

What he lacks in technique, he makes up in eagerness, opening his mouth and licking a wet tongue into yours. You giggle a little, taste the Sour Patch kids he nervously ate from his bag between two scientific words you purposefully didn’t remember. You press at his throat, just so he’s as breathless as you are. He moans against your lips, panting. 

Matty doesn’t dare touch. His body is fixed to the desk chair, letting himself be kissed, taking only what you are willing to offer. He sits there like you are breathing life into his mouth, eating and eating and never asking for more. It’s what makes you want to give him more. 

You pull away from him, straightening like a queen taking her throne. Under you, the pages wrinkle and ruffle, and he doesn’t even care. His lips are swollen and pink, shiny from the lipgloss. Breaths puff out from there, pulling attention. 

“You’re kinda pretty,” you admit lowly, like a secret he should know. 

“Thanks,” Matty flushes. 

You release his throat, wiping your pink gloss off his lips. They part instinctively. You smile, slipping your thumb inside. He sucks the strawberry, warm tongue on your fingerprint. Power loosens your head.

“Do you want me?” You ask, as though his mouth drooling around your thumb wasn’t indication enough. You want the words; you want the worship. 

“Yeth,” he says, choking on your finger. You smile, taking it out and drying it on his cheek.

You don’t make a big show of taking your shirt off. Your hands are at the hem of your baby tee, then it’s off your shoulders, thrown on the pink carpet. Matty whines, surprised and overwhelmed, throwing a furtive glance at the cracked door of your bedroom. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, taking his hand. Soft and weak; he hasn’t worked a day in his life. It’s slack between your fingers. He lets you puppeteer it to your breasts, lets you grope yourself with him as an instrument. 

He makes another small noise from the back of his throat, staring at the fucking sight like he can’t quite believe it truly is his own hand. “God,” he mutters to himself, and it’s exactly how you feel. 

“Say thank you,” you taunt him, because you know he will. 

Like clockwork, Matty revels, “Thank you.” Growing bold, he rubs a thumb over your hard nipple, a tough callus you didn’t expect on the tip of it. It makes you moan; a crack in your spotless armor, but he doesn’t even notice. Too preoccupied with playing with your tits, pawing at it greedily. 

“Can I—” He flushes, shaking his head. 

“What?”

“Can I lick them?” A drop of heat strikes through you. You clench your thighs, arching your back into his readied palm. 

“Yes.” He leans in before you’ve finished the s, sucking your abandoned nipple into his mouth. He licks and rubs and pinches, raw skill pulling at your sensitive skin. You bite back groans, breathing harshly. Your chest rises and falls into his mouth, but he’s just as diligent. 

You rake a long-nailed hand into his hair, scratching his scalp with every particularly delicious lick. He moans at that, vibrating on your sensitive nipples. 

He sticks his tongue out, panting like a dog, dipping down to the valley of your tits and pressing a kiss, then climbing up a new breast. He bites gently, and you jump, surprised by his boldness. 

“Sorry,” he whispers. You don’t like this little switch-up in power. He’s supposed to be purring for you, enthrallment shining in his eyes. You tug on his hair, making him look at you. 

Matty stares up, dutiful. He doesn’t care about the power game; hasn’t even realized you were slipping. He takes what you give. 

You soothe away the sting of his hair. “Pretty boy,” you coo. Matty beams at that. “I want to hear you scream.”

With this, you jump off the desk, and kneel under it. 

“Oh,” Matty says, eyes wide as he watches you fumble with his pants. You unbutton and unzip, fast and knowledgeable, dipping into his boxers— “Wait.”

You look up at him, inches from your goal. You cock your head, frowning. “What?”

“Just—” He pants, staring at you. “Just give me a second.”

You hum, grazing a finger on the faint happy trail of his stomach. His belly sucks in. “Are you nervous?”

“No,” he says. “Yes. I don’t know.” He laughs. His hands still grip the armrests, white-knuckled. “Why are you doing this?” 

You shrug. “I want to.” You tip your head, kissing his soft hand. “Do you want me to?” 

“Well, yeah.”

You grin. “Relax.” Finally, your hand slips under his underwear, and you wrap around his hard length. He gasps, cold fingers against hot skin, fingers against him. 

His hips jump into your fist as you draw him out. Another nervous glance to the door, still half-opened. Your parents are somewhere in the house, pretending not to exist. You lick your lips.

You lightly scratch your pink nails against him. You run a thumb on his tip, smearing precum. He hisses, turning into a moan as you slowly drag your hand down. He’s frozen and tense, almost afraid of moving, as if that would make you go away. 

“Teach me,” you say. 

He blinks at you, dazed. “Huh?” 

Your eyes vaguely look up to the desk you hide under, biology notes in his scratchy writing laying wrinkled. “Biology. My parents are paying you for a reason, aren’t they?” 

“Oh—” He flushes, embarrassed. Pushes his glasses up. “Right, right.” His hands let go of the armrests, searching through the pages. You choose this moment to kiss the tip of his cock. He whimpers, shutting his eyes in pleasure. “Fuck.” You giggle, all too happy. 

He struggles to find where you disturbed him, biting his lip in comical concentration. You tease him, enjoying all the little breaths he chokes on, the soft sounds he tries to hide. Your hand pumps up and down, twisting at the wrist. 

You wonder how often he’s done this on himself, who he imagined between his legs. 

From now, it’ll be you. You’ll make sure of it. 

“Um, right, so,” Matty starts, out of breath. “In some reactions,” he continues arduously, “one substrate is broken down into multiple products. And—” Devilishly, you lick a stripe up his length. He groans, twitching on your tongue. “Shit,” he mutters. It’s funny coming from him; the swear rings wrong, like a costume. 

He drags his stare down, pulling away from his notes to watch you. You indulge him, parting your lips and wrapping them around his tip. You suck on it gently. His face wrinkles, a moan breaking from him. You pull your head down, swallowing him. He clutches at his papers, scrunching them himself. 

“Oh, God,” Matty says, trying to catch his breath as you bob your head. “I’m— Shit.” 

You let go of him with a wet pop, stroking him quickly. “Shh,” you tease him. “My parents.” Again, he throws a nervous look towards the door. 

Saliva and lipgloss and precum already lube him, but you keep your hand at his base as you spit on his cock. You drag it down his length. Matty’s eyes snap towards you. “Do that again.” He wants to see you.

You smirk, tilting your head to leave wet kisses up his cock, then lick his tip. You spit on it, and a low groan resonates from him. His hips rise up into your hand, but you push them down with your claws. 

“Fuck,” he whimpers from the back of his throat, melting on the chair. He likes it messy. You grin, peppering little kisses over his cock, smearing him in strawberry lipgloss. 

“What’s the other thing?” 

“Huh?” He blinks, tying himself back to reality. “Right, um, substrates. It’s—” Again, you choose this moment to push him down your throat. He loses speech, mumbling incoherent syllables, some broken version of your name. 

Though your head bobs quickly, pulling further and further down his length, twisting a stroking hand all the same, you pinch your nails at his hip. He jumps, struck out of the daze of pleasure, blinking down at you. 

“Yeah, it’s— The other reactions are—” You let go of his hip, pinching your own nipple instead. Matty whines, losing his train of thought. “You’re not being fair.”

You laugh, spitting him out to catch your breath. You grope yourself and he watches, not sure which hand to focus on. His cheeks are tinted red, maybe from effort, or adrenaline, or shyness. It’s cute enough to bite. 

Wonder shines in his eyes. He can’t believe this is happening; he’s eternally grateful, as he should be. As they all should have been, those faceless men you’ve blown in the bathrooms of parties for attention and a momentary stop to complete boredom. They stayed quiet, almost afraid to make noise, to show they enjoyed it, until they shook and spilled inside your mouth. Matty’s not afraid to moan. 

Your brain rushes, sticky happy. You pant on his cock, trailing a finger down your stomach, then dipping in your shorts. Matty’s eyes widen, straightening to catch a glimpse. You smile, catching a pool of your arousal. 

You come back up, fingers sticky and wet with your slick, and smear it on his cock. Matty scrunches his face, whimpering, shaking under your hands. 

“You’re trying to kill me.”

“Only because it’s easy,” you mock, jerking and twisting your two hands in rhythm, wet sounds ringing in the room. 

You free his cock, gripping the armrests of the chair instead. You wrap your mouth around it, and bend down until your nose touches the faint smatterings of dark hair on his belly. You gag on him, and he strangles the edge of the desk trying to kill his moans. 

You pump him in your mouth quickly, feeling him twitch and rise to meet you. He remembers himself, falling down on the chair dutifully, not even burying a needy hand in your hair, as though afraid that would be asking for too much. 

You drag up, making him hit the inside of your cheek, before releasing him. You spit the precum on him, blinking up through teary eyes. He doesn’t have any words, red swollen lip bitten raw. 

“I taste great,” you say, and then offer up your still-wet fingers to him. He’s eager, sucking them into his mouth. He bobs, imitating you, and the sight and feel makes hot desire drip inside of you. 

You want to squeeze him until he pops. 

You take his hand, pulling it into your hair. He grips instinctively, pushing it out of your face. “Don’t push,” you warn, serious. He nods frantically, and you trust him to mean it. 

You take him into your mouth for what you know is the final time. You’re certain he won’t last long, droopy and moaning and twitching, hissing every time your tongue runs on him. You bob with skill and precision still. He tugs at your hair, both hands in now, trembling in the mess of it. He never pushes, or fucks his hips up; trusts you to undo him yourself. 

He swears and curses and whimpers, head falling down and back, vacillating between the sky and your red, puffy face. The sink is heard from faraway, but you don’t think he can even hear it. 

“I'm dreaming,” he whispers to himself, sounding wild. “I’m gonna wake up. I’m gonna be— I’m gonna—” Matty cries, slapping a hand over his mouth, and comes down your throat. He shakes, loud moans hidden in his palm, eyes shut and forehead wrinkled. 

He lets go of your hair with a fucked-out sigh, panting. His eyes never leave you, disbelief written all over it. You pull him out of your throat, and smile at him. 

You’re about to swallow when he touches your arm, unsure of where he’s allowed to now. “Wait, can you—” He grows embarrassed, blushing. “Can you open your mouth?”

You part your lips, showing off his white cum still sitting on your tongue. He whimpers at the sight, fingers digging into your arm. His breathing turns irregular, cheeks reddening, eyes darkening. He’s so strange. 

Still, you stick your tongue out, putting his load in evidence, making a spectacle of it. He looks tortured, enthralled. 

You stay long enough that you feel it run down, long white rope hanging from your tongue, then dropping on your breast. 

“Fuck,” Matty whispers to himself. Seemingly without thinking, he runs his thumb on your breast, catching his cum and sucking it between his lips. 

You smile, slurping the cum back into your mouth, and swallowing it. You flash your red tongue at him. “All clean.”

“Thank you,” Matty says. “I— I’m not sure why you did that, but— I, you know, appreciate it.” He’s so polite. You’d laugh if he wouldn’t snap back into that little head box of his. 

“I’m very thankful for all those lessons,” you wink.

“No, you’re not.” 

“No, I’m not.” Matty’s finger rubs the skin of your arm, that strangely tough callus, and it has you leaning into his touch. “Though, this has been my favorite lesson.” 

“God, I couldn’t even get a word out.”

“Hence why.”

Matty snorts and he offers you a hand. You grab it to manœuvre out from under the desk. You push your sweaty hair out of your face, then wipe the leftover stickiness from your breasts. 

Matty, of course, follows the movement to your tits. He swallows. “Do you, um,” he pushes his glasses up. “Do you want, like, something back?” 

You arch an eyebrow, incapable of holding a small giggle this time. “Do you know how?”

He stares into your eyes. “I could try.”

And, again, there’s just something about his eagerness, his willingness, his open devotion, that has you saying, “Yeah, I guess you could try.”

You tiptoe to your bedroom door, looking left and right into the hallway, before quietly shutting it. You turn around to a displeased Matty. “Oh, so you get to have it closed?” 

“‘S more fun when you’re struggling,” you shrug, devilish. You run to the bed, falling on the pillows, fluttering your eyelashes at him. “Come here, pretty boy.” He practically trips out of his chair to find you. He’s three steps in when you stop him. “Take your clothes off.”

He grows shy under your gaze. Staying in place, fingers shaking, he starts to unbutton his plaid shirt. He kicks off his sneakers and his baggy jeans until he stands there in his boxers. He’s as scrawny as you imagined him to be. You smile. 

Matty crosses his arms. “Can I see you, too?” He whispers.

You shimmy your shorts off your legs and throw it beyond the bed. Matty’s stare stutters on your pink thong, wet patch where your desire pooled. 

You draw a hand towards him and he takes it, falling over you on the bed. He doesn’t waste time, giving you a sloppy kiss before mouthing at your neck, your collarbones, your tits. He laps at them first and you wonder if he’s trying to get the last lingering taste of his cum. He catches a nipple next and sucks it. 

Gaspy moans leave your lips. You part your legs instinctively and he buries between them, already hardening. His cock hits your thigh and he sucks and pinches and plays until you start thinking he might really be able to try. 

Your hands descend down his back, freckled under your nails. You grip his small waist, pushing at his hip, the hem of his boxers. Matty understands, leaving you long enough to kick them off. He pants in front of you, leaning back already, wet, swollen mouth parted. 

Matty lays over you again and his hard cock presses into your need. You scratch your nails up his back and he jerks, bucking into you. A moan leaves both your mouths. He tries again, artless, just off your clit. 

“Oh,” he whispers, mostly to himself. He does it again, building and building heat inside of you, yet never relieving. 

You huff. You sneak a hand between your bodies, moving your thong aside until he slips under it. 

Another boy would have taken the opportunity, would have buried inside before you even had time to nod, but Matty doesn’t even think of it. 

He humps your wet cunt, tucked tight under your underwear, hem pressing his length. Matty moans every time, quickening, desperate. He tilts his hand to better see as his cock bulges the cloth, a wet patch forming where his precum stains. 

“Fuck.”

And it’s better; he’s faster, and firmer, and mostly there. He follows your little puffs of shameful breaths, staying where they transform into slack moans. Pleasure starts waking up inside your belly, sickly warm. 

But you’ve had boys hump at you before, had them bucking between your legs. You know it’s not what will get you off. You need your mind stimulated, to be so thoroughly hot and desperate you finally let yourself go. 

You pinch the nape of his neck, making him look at you. A slack, messy smirk lays on your lips. You tease, “Have you ever thought of me during our tutoring sessions?” 

Matty’s hips stutter. He looks away. “Like…”

“Yeah, like, on my knees.”

Matty blushes. “Well, yeah.” 

You grin, too pleased. A deadly smile, hunting. “When?”

“I don’t know…” He mutters. You scowl to yourself, and maybe he senses that, because his chin grazes your shoulder and he admits shamefully, “When you ate that popsicle. And you licked and you slurped and you sucked and, just— I’m a guy. I had visions.” 

“I had visions.” You imitate, mocking. You tsk, “You're such a nerd.” You roll your hips back against him and a whimper buries in the skin of your shoulder. “Was it how you imagined?”

“Better.” He nods fervently. “So much fucking better. I actually died, I think. Still unsure whether I’m dead or not.” Pride and power makes your head loose, makes pleasure ripple through your flesh. 

You claw at his skin, warning dangerously, “Tell anyone and you will be.” All it does is make him moan, bucking faster against you. Your toes curl. You breathe in his ear, “Tell me more.” 

“I, uh— Shit.” The tip of his cock burrows in your underwear as he slides, wet and slick from you. He shivers over you. “I’d think about— bending you over the desk.” 

Your smile ghosts your face, grazing his soft, fresh cheek. “Really?”

“Just, you know, when you wouldn’t listen. And you’d pop that chewing gum, and you’d ignore me, and you’d be mean.”

You smirk, clicking your tongue. “So you wanted to, what, toughen me up? Take your revenge?”

His cheeks redden. “No.” His lips brush your shoulders, and he kisses, opposite. “I don’t know. I wanted you to pay attention.” He licks your neck. “I wanted to make you scream.” Mouths at your jaw. “I wanted to fuck you. Or for you to fuck me— I wanted you.”

You can’t believe you’re now the one blushing. You pant, glad he’s buried in your throat, that he can’t see. A moan slips from you as he nips gently at your skin. Your eyes roll in your skull. 

“You like when I’m mean to you?” You tease meanly, out of breath. You scratch his back, burying your hand in his hair, and tugging until he looks you in the eyes. “Gets you all bothered?” 

Matty shivers, whining, “Fuck, please—” 

You push him onto his back, rolling over. Two hands press into his chest, and you might very well concave his ribcage. You stare him down, divine. “You wanted me to fuck you?” 

His messy, unbrushed hair falls around his head like a halo. He’s sweet enough to make your head spin. He watches you openly behind the glass of his specs, breathing, “Yes.”

You trail your fingernails on his hard cock, down to his base. “And now?”

Devoting, “Yes.”

A rush of thrill fills you. You kneel up, shimmying your underwear off. Matty gasps at the sight, raking a hungry gaze up and down your body. He holds the sheets of your bed with white-knuckled fingers. 

You waste no time, rocking your cunt against his tip once, twice, before slowly lowering yourself on him. You inhale at the stretch. Matty’s eyes shut, whining. “Look at me,” you order, and he listens. 

His eyes flash open. He blinks at you as you bottom out. His head rolls, shaking. “Oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.” You go to move up, but he holds your hip down. He takes deep breaths. “Can we— Just, this is—”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, taking his hand and placing it over the regular beating of your heart. He thumbs your nipple while he’s there, breathing in sync with your pulse. You slowly roll your hips on him. 

Matty moans, gripping the flesh of your thigh. You let him adjust to the feel of it, rocking softly, dragging your clit on his pelvis. You bite your lip raw as pleasure blooms inside of you. Your thighs ache to go faster, harder, but you maintain the delicate pace for him. Just that has him shaking under you, and you once again grip his hand over your heart to ground him. 

“Sorry,” he says with an embarrassed laugh. “Fuck,” is immediately added when you circle your hips, his eyes rolling. “Fuck, sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” you order. “What are the other reactions?” You say, attempting to drag him out of his anxiety-filled head. He frowns at you. “Of enzymes.”

His lips part. “I didn’t know you knew that term.” 

You roll your eyes, then your hips, euphoria fizzling under your skin. “I listen to you.” His unconvinced look betrays him. “Sometimes.”

“They’re, um— Shit. They come together to create one— fuck, one larger molecule or—” You finally rock faster, angling your hips to have him bury inside you right where you need him. You moan, chest rising and falling quickly. Your legs grow desperate; you chase that sickly pleasure. 

“Yeah?” You encourage him on, seeing his own pleasure resonate in his face. He bites his lip, pawing uselessly at your thigh. “Or?” You’re out of breath. 

“Or swap pieces,” he finally finishes between two moans. Chuckles, “Actually, pretty much all biological reactions you can think of probably—” Your hips fall harsher on him and he loses his train of thought, overwhelmed. You smile, setting a wild pace, completely unfair. 

“Probably what?” You say, teasing, “I’m always thinking about biological reactions.”

“Don’t tease,” he pouts, and you slow down your thrusts just to spite him. He whines, pressing his short fingernails into the skin of your thigh. 

“Come on.” You make him look you in the eyes, mocking, “Educate me.”

“They all have enzymes,” Matty finally finishes. You reward him by reaching down and pinching his nipple. He whimpers, cursing your name. “Why have you suddenly decided to be a good student?” 

“‘Cause you’re adorable when you’re struggling to find words,” you answer honestly. You hold your weight up on the hand pressed into his chest, angling your hips until your clit rubs and rubs his pelvis. Your eyes roll, fucking him quicker. “Fuck. I love when I can make you all stupid for me.” The power in changing up his DNA composition, making a smart boy incapable of remembering all the jargon you yourself don’t know, is addictive. Undoing him block by block until he’s putty in your hands. Matty just moans, not arguing. 

Sweat pearls his forehead. The white sheets make him angelic. He breathes your name, fluttering his eyelashes at you. “Can I try on top?” Maybe it’s because he looks so reverent, so innocent, that you nod. 

Matty doesn’t push you and roll you over, instead staying there, as though waiting for it to just magically happen. You giggle to yourself, unmounting him and falling back on the mattress, legs parted. He swallows thickly, laying over you. 

His glasses fall down his nose and you laugh, grabbing them and carefully placing them on your nightstand. He blinks, adjusting to the blurry sight. 

His hand shakes as he grabs himself and lines up. He misses once, twice, until you rest a soothing hand on his and guide him. Matty moans in your hair as he slides in. He stays in your wet heat for a second, catching his breath, before he thrusts. 

And it’s bad, of course. He doesn’t have any rhythm, bucking blindly inside of you. It’s a strange pace, irregular and powerless. He certainly can’t find any type of mindnumbing spot. Pleasure simmers lowly in your belly, heat turned off almost to nothing if it weren’t for the pretty moans that bury straight in your ear. 

You grab his hip, making Matty look at you. “Start slow,” you instruct, guiding him. He follows the movements of your hand, rocking back and forth, slow but regular. “There,” you nod, arching your back. “Just, tilt—” He repositions himself, eager to learn, and you shudder. You call his name, syrupy with moans. 

He’s a fast learner, following diligently the guidings of your gripping hand. He fucks into you slowly, but surely. Your toes curl. Pleasure wakes up again, coiling in your belly. “Like this?” He breathes. You nod, encouraging him on. 

“It’s like I’m tutoring you,” you remark, chuckling to yourself. Matty snorts. “I like being the smart one for once.”

Matty frowns. “You’re always smart.” He says it without thinking, because he means it. Something wet chokes your throat, tugs at your lips. “You just don’t listen.”

“Would you like me to?” You say, tone taunting. A self-destroying instinct, telling you to hurt, to ruin. “Make me your little pet? Be all obedient? Have me sucking your cock while you tell me all about biology?”

His eyebrows furrow. “Do you want me to do that?” All your bullets don’t land. He’s unconcerned on what he wants. You huff.

Instead of reckoning, you order, “Faster, now.” Matty nods against your cheek. He obeys, thrusting quicker. You let go of his hip, climbing up his back just to rake your nails down it. His hips snap faster, harsher, endeavored. You grin, licking his jaw, kissing the bone. 

“Fuck,” he whimpers, catching your lips and kissing you. You wrap your arms around his neck, trapping him there as he ruts between your legs. You swallow all the sounds he makes, kill the swears you think of saying. Euphoria washes you. 

He leaves your lips just to smack wet kisses over your face, again and again. On your forehead, your cheeks, your eyelids, your chin. He mouths down your throat, starts sucking and nipping at the side. You bury a hand into his hair, pushing him further down. “Not the neck,” you explain, breathy. 

Matty finds the side of your tits and he buries there, sucking at your skin. You arch into his mouth, pleasure rushing up your side at the pinpricks of pain. He moans against you, bucking faster. Your mind spins and spins. “Matty.” Again, he speeds up, harsh and wild. “Fucking hell, Matty.” 

You tug at his hair and he releases you, lips wet and swollen. He pants over you, eyes dazed with pleasure. A new wave of heat strikes you just from the sight of him, unmade and wild. You sneak a hand between your bodies. You find your clit easily, rubbing. 

Matty’s head drops to watch you. He whines, seeing where he disappears inside of you, over and over, where your pink nails swipe at you. 

He leans his weight on one arm, joining his own hand with yours. You’re surprised at the act, at the willingness of involving himself in the complicated business of your pleasure. Your fingers stop, resting up on your stomach. 

He paws blindly at your cunt, just a little off where you need him. You grip his wrist, angling him at the right place, gently circling and swiping with his finger. The callus presses on your clit and it’s a delicious sensation. You roll your eyes, crying out, then slapping your palm over your mouth. Matty grins proudly, continuing to rub at you. 

“This is good, right?” He whispers, pretty eyes all vulnerable on you. 

You nod frantically. “Yes. It’s good.” You melt on the sheets, parting your legs further. “It’s really good.” His cheeks flush at the compliment. You wrap your hand around his throat, resting there with silent ownership. “Did you ever think it’d be me?” 

Matty chokes on a laugh and a moan. “No. I never thought you’d ever even give me a look.” 

You hum, pleased with the answer. He realizes it’s a privilege. You grin, pressing your fingers on the sides of his neck. His hips stutter, then snap even faster, a broken cry leaving him. His lips part in quiet ecstasy. His eyes shut,  rapid movement behind his eyelids. 

You grin at him. “Say thank you, pretty boy.” 

You release him, at least giving him a chance. He falls into your shoulder, taking deep inhales, shaking. “Thank you,” he says, mumbly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You rake through his hair, soothing. “Aw, fuck, I’m gonna—” He twitches inside of you. 

“Not inside!” You shout. Matty gasps, thrusting out of you. He cries as he comes on your navel and cunt. He catches his breath, blinking himself back to this reality, still shaking. 

“Sorry,” he says, shortwinded. A pang of disappointment hits you. It’s not like you’ve ever come with someone else before, but it had felt really close this time. 

At least Matty tried. 

Matty watches his cum painted over your skin, catching your piercing, mixing with the slick of your cunt. He moans to himself, then bends down between your thighs. 

You rest on your elbows, frowning. “What—” He licks a stripe over your cunt, tasting both your juices. Euphoria strikes through you. Your back hits the mattress as you fall back, legs shaking. “Matty.” He hums, faraway, licking and licking to clean you all up. You bury a hand in his hair, grounding him in place. 

He finds your clit, rubbing it with the tip of his tongue, circling then sucking it. You jolt on the bed, biting back a scream. You frown to yourself, tugging on his hair, fire boiling inside your stomach. What the fuck. 

He laps at you, moaning every time your nails scratch his scalp, the sound vibrating against you. A hand wraps around your thigh, keeping you open for him. He devours you eagerly, hungrily, until you’re a mess melting into his mouth. 

“God, Matty,” you cry. You have to actually hold back another one with a slap of your hand, shocked at yourself as you scream into your palm. 

Matty stops, breathing harshly, and you throw a glance down in question. He climbs up your stomach, lapping at your skin, cleaning the last of his cum. You whimper at the dirty sight, desire drumming down your limbs. 

He throws you a hot look. Tongue out, full of white cum. He goes back between your legs and buries it in your cunt, fucking it in. You jump, cursing to the ceiling. Matty laughs, greedily tasting you. 

You roll your hips into his face, hitting the tip of his nose on your clit. Every strike has ecstasy resonating in your bones. You feel light on your bones. 

His lips wrap around your clit. He sucks, grazing a tongue, swiping and circling like you showed him. You recognize the same pattern, recognize the rhythm. Of course he’s a fast learner. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chant, choked by your hand. You raise your hips into his mouth, silently begging. Your legs shake, desperate. Pressure pushes at your belly. Your eyes roll. “Don’t stop.”

He mumbles something in your cunt, probably a promise or a praise, dutifully not stopping. He laps and eats and fucks until your brain melts into your skull, dripping down your spine. 

“Oh, fuck, I’m—” Your head shakes fervently. “Just stay— Shit, Matty, just— I—” The pressure snaps and you come on his readied tongue, screaming. Hot white flashes in your vision. Relief washes you, dipping to every crevices, relaxing you. He moans against your cunt. 

Matty continues to lick you, mission-bound, until your lungs are on fire and you physically push him away. He smiles up at you, chin sticky and wet and red. He wipes it, kneeling. 

“Where the fuck did you learn how to do that?” You say, shortwinded, shocked to your bones. You stare at him like he’s grown a second head. 

It’s the first time someone other than your knowing hand made you come. And it’s fucking Matty Healy. You blink at him. 

“What?” He laughs, falling beside you on the bed. 

You gesture vaguely downwards. “That.”

“Oh,” he blushes. Shrugs. “I don’t know. I researched it once.”

“You— Oh, my God.” You stare at the ceiling in disbelief. “Oh, my God. You’re such a nerd.”

Matty grins, cheekily proud. He gently grazes the bruise he left on your breast, the splotch of red that will darken, be a leftover trace of him. 

“Thanks,” he says simply. 

“You’re welcome.” You shift your legs, feeling the wetness still between them. “Thanks to you too, I guess.” He grins, hiding in the white pillows. 

He gives you a look. “Will you listen when I tutor you now?” 

You smirk mischievously. “Maybe if you have my fingers in your mouth.”

“Oh,” Matty says, eyes wide. “Will you— Will this happen again?”

You make a noncommittal shrug, though a more definite answer hums in your heart. “Maybe if you’re really good.” You smile to yourself. “Or really boring, and I need to shut you up.”

“You can shut me up any day.”

“I know.” You linger in that moment for just a second more, eyes locked together, smiles tickling your lips. Then you sit up, reaching for your underwear. “Session’s almost done.” 

Matty nods, lips thin. “Right.” He pats the nightstand for his glasses.  

You dress yourselves, wiping away sweat and cum, brushing wild strands. You give an awkward goodbye, incertain, and Matty slips from the room. You don’t follow him to the door. You never do. 

Downstairs, you hear your parents thank him and give him a crisp 50 dollar bill. You giggle to yourself and fall on the bed, bone-deep exhausted. 

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