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#let me know if I need to tag anything for y’all
gentlebeard · 1 month
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the sea is restorative.
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princess-starscourge · 4 months
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You know I never got over Kaveh saying he didn’t have a right to interfere with/barge into his mom’s life (something along those lines) in his hangout event. That shit broke my heart. Like, that isn’t possible when you’re her fucking son 😭
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pussywiki · 1 year
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One line in particular that has stuck in my brain aside from the obvious: Prapai’s “please don’t joke with me” after asking Sky what he meant. It’s so desperate but it’s also kinda vulnerable?? Like he wants Sky so bad but there’s something off about this and he needs to pause and the last thing he wants is for this to be some joke. Because that’s mostly what he’s gotten from Sky up until this point: teasing, sarcasm, just a lot of pushback and testing Pai’s dedication to him. He can’t read Sky’s mind and know that he’s falling just as hard, he’s just hoping against hope and just fucking “please don’t let this be another test, please don’t tease me in this way, please don’t push me away if I act on this, please let me love you how you deserve to be loved, how I NEED to love you, please please please”
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deceitfuldevil · 1 year
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How funny would it be for me, an Ashkenazi Jew, to write a Priest! Matt Murdock X Nun! Reader smut?
I personally think it would be hysterical, amazing, and above all, blasphemous.
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damsxlette · 3 months
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ranting in the tags ⬇️
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autistichedgehogs · 1 year
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what’s your problem with irls? /genq
I’m schizophrenic. I’ve had this condition since I experienced (a very rapid) onset when I was 10. It took EVERYTHING from me. Every childlike dream of “when i grow up” was gone when I had to face the frightening reality of mental disability and battle my own mind by myself. The I/R/L community is mostly full of people without genuine psychosis using a label and terms that don’t belong to them. I was lucky and privileged to recover/stabilise to where I am, but I was terrified I wasn’t going to. Most of the people who claim to be psychotic over there will never have a fear of becoming a statistic from police violence or losing their job, friends, home, etc. from a very real and debilitating condition. The misinformation is rampant, terms like “reality checking” are thrown around, and reading a lot of it is downright insulting to me. I understand it’s mostly kids who are kinning and don’t realise what they’re doing, but I still don’t want to interact with them or them to interact with me. a community where it’s encouraged to interact with delusions in that way in my opinion is very dangerous when it leaks into online spaces for genuine psychotic people. /nm at your question btw 👍
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lavellander · 2 years
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a couple des doodles as i try to practice drawing different ages 🫠
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spookyboywhump · 2 years
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Hihi really sorry to have to ask this but could you tag Wendi’s name? Wend1g00n is derived from an extremely important and cannibalistic spirit in my culture the w3nd1g0 and it’s a bit jarring to read it as I’ve been taught that even in text it’s name calls it (it’s completely fine if not though !!)
Absolutely! I had heard about not saying it but I wasn’t sure if text was the same thing so thank you for letting me know, I think I’ll start tagging any posts mentioning him with Wendi but from now on I’ll also shorten the name in the post to that as well just to be safe.
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kuroosdarling · 1 year
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my new lil plushie has easily become my emotional support plushie and i’m v happy bout it lmao <3
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idnek83 · 2 years
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Sometimes I read something where a character is in dramatic/dangerous situation and think “hmm that’s probably not how a real person would react…”
But then I remember the time I hit some ice on a highway and lost control of my car going like 60kph, and rather than screaming or panicking I simply said, calmly and out loud despite being the only person in the car, “I’m going to crash” before hitting a concrete divider… and I realize that people really do react to stuff in weird ways and whatever the character is doing is probably realistic for someone ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
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theythemj · 2 years
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i had like two paragraphs written about this au and then i didn’t save it. i will cry
anyway!! here’s some more art of my mask-verse au!
i finally made a design i somewhat like for his suit, and i have Quinten Becks design too! i actually have him and peter be friends/found family in this au. it’s one of the things that actually inspired me to make the au in the first place. so, i will be ranting about Beck this time. (also, some details of this story isn’t 100% completed yet, so if something doesn’t make sense or is vague that’s why)
Quinten Beck (he prefers Beck) in my au isn’t like the comics or the movies at all. he can be a bit dramatic and has a large want of recognition for his work, but he isn’t as willing to kill people as the other two are. he works in a lab (similar to curt conners in tasm) and specializes more with genes and radiation. he gets into a major accident at work and mutates very painfully and obviously, and is eventually sent to the hospital. his work immediately fires him and buries the accident. he’s pissed about this of course, but it doesn’t compare to the rage he feels when he realizes that they stole his work and gave him absolutely no credit or anything for it because he’s now mutated. he escapes the hospital after he healed enough to function (and just in time, “SHEILD” was just sent to retrieve him)*
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he starts stealing lab equipment and robs banks for money to hide out and protect himself from the government, and then meets Parker!! they literally hate each other at first, but after Beck realizes that the government (and Norman) is after him, and that he’s literally a kid, he proposes a truce and helps him out. accidentally becoming a vigilante instead of the villain he was going to be :) he was calling himself Mysterio (again, he’s a dramatic dumbass and named himself that since his face and body is completely covered and no one knows who he is) but Parker beats him to it and dubs him “Fishbowl” because of his mask during one of their first fights. it sticks and he literally hates it so much, they get into a “fight” about it like twice a week. they become really close and eventually he admits that he cares about Parker. Parker teases him about caring and they fight again lol.
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they do not show each other their faces for so long, because even though they mostly trust each other, Beck refuses to since he doesn’t look human anymore. (even more inhuman then Parker, which he doesn’t believe) the first time Parker shows his face is after he’s kidnapped by Norman. it’s a very fucked up situation and Beck swears that he’s going to rip Norman apart piece by piece for hurting Parker. :(
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*SHEILD in this universe is basically what the accords are x100, the Raft but for anyone they see a threat (mostly mutated people because they see them as a threat and an asset)
anyway! i think that’s all for now! i still have so many more characters for this (doc ock and his wife, norman osborn, henry osborn, MJ, Gwen, ect!) so ill probably draw and write about them later on :) i hope you guys like it so far lol
@ruffboijuliaburnsides ! :) (here’s part two! if you ever want me to not tag you just let me know, i don’t want to annoy you lol)
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HEAVY TW FOR GUNS, GUN VIOLENCE, & SCHOOL SHOOTINGS/ MASS SHOOTINGS
I don't like posting stuff like this at ALL. or even mentioning or thinking abt my experience even tho I've mentioned it on my blog once yearrrrrs ago.
I've lived through a school shooting.
everytime the list gets posted and updated, when another school gets added to the list, I scroll through all the schools and I pass by my old high school's name.
today there was a mass shooting in my city. it made national news. like my school made national news back in 2014.
the mass shooting today was a couple blocks away from my new uni campus. a couple hours later another shooting took place at my current uni campus. and then another shooting down the street from my old church.
this hits close to home. EXTREMELY close to home. I've been anxious and shaking all day and am currently having an extreme ptsd episode.
because of what I've experienced, this is something I will struggle with for the rest of my life. dropping to the floor at any loud noise, scoping out places to hide and things to use as a weapon in the chance of going through another shooting, watching mine and the people I'm with's surroundings in case I have to sacrifice myself for them.
people shouldn't be scared to do normal things. people shouldnt be dying due to gun violence.
I shouldn't be scared that I'll have to experience another shooting.
I never want anyone to go through what I experienced ever.
I'm tired, frustrated, and scared.
I thought it would've stopped after sandy hook. it should have stopped after columbine.
keep your fucking thoughts and prayers to yourself because they obviously arent working. we need POLICY & CHANGE.
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impeakcharacterdesign · 5 months
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Just the Tip
— Thomas Hewitt x Fem!Reader —
MDNI!!!
Summary: It’s the 1960s and Luda Mae frowns upon premarital sex like any good Christian woman. You and Tommy are young, hot, and in love but the only problem is that Tommy was raised to wait until marriage and never lets you two go any further than kissing and some groping.
But the devil lives in the hot Texan sun and even God takes a break from the summer heat.
Notes: this is super short, just pure smut, self indulgent I’m obsessed with big boy Tommy 😭😭😭 i swear I’m working on part 2 of my sister Sinclair fic but Tommy has me in a choke hold and I needed an outlet.
No TW that I can think of other than bad smut and maybe ??? Coercion??? Cause Tommy wants to be a good boy and stop before y’all go too far but you flash him and then he’s absolutely 100% in. A bit of religious stuff, period typical sexism but vaguely. Let me know if I should add anything else and I’ll get right on it. Reader isn’t ever referred to using “she/her” pronouns but is described as having breasts and does have female genitalia so I tagged it fem reader to be safe
Enjoy!!!
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The early morning sun burned, chasing away what little cool air remained of the night before. While the barn shaded you from the unforgiving sun and hid you from disapproving eyes — or lecherous in the case of the older men of the family — it also trapped in the heat your two bodies gave off.
Thomas pressed his open mouth to your own, tongue swiping over your teeth eager to taste you. Your hands gripped his dark hair, ruining any half-effort attempt he had made earlier in the day to smooth down his unruly hair. He held you in his arms, body pressed tightly against him in an attempt to get as close as possible, his large frame hiding you even further from prying eyes than the shadowed corners of the old barn. The kiss was deep and hungry and served as a brief respite from Luda Maes ever watching eyes. While she had been fine with you living with the family before you and Tommy were married, she forbade you from sharing a room or being intimate, a rule she absolutely refused to budge on and one that Uncle Charlie took a strange glee in ribbing you about. But much like the Texan heat, the heated looks you gave each other were unavoidable and only grew hotter as the summer days went on. Luda Mae wanted to wait until the following spring to make your union official but at the rate the town was drying up, there wouldn't even be a priest to officiate the ceremony, much less any guest to attend. You highly doubted anyone outside of the family would want to witness your union anyway but still, Luda Mae didn't want the few who would to get wise and start counting months.
These stolen moments in the barn were as good as you could get — and by god were they good.
Tommy’s large hands groped at your breasts, pawing roughy at your nipples through the worn fabric of your old dress. It wasn’t long before you found yourself in the familiar position of being sprawled out on the barn floor, coarse hay a discomfort you had long learned to endure for the sake of pleasure.
You desperately thrust your sex up onto his growing bulge, whining when he groaned and pinned your hips with his own, preventing you from getting your desired stimulation. “Please Tommy,” you beg, lips separating, “We don’t have to do too much, I just wanna touch you.” You press open-mouthed kisses to his neck, pulling softly at the flesh with your teeth and tongue dragging across the bites to taste the salt on his skin. Your hands eagerly worked to untuck his faded green shirt and wrap around him, roaming the vast expanse of his back. His whole body shuddered in your arms, an attempt to hold back from eating you whole.
You know Thomas will put an end to your romp soon, the tense lines of his shoulders and the way he shuts his eyes a sign that he's reaching his limit, that if you two don't stop now you won't be able to stop — but that’s exactly what you want.
You're tired of holding back, of this constant edging you have to endure when you’re in his presence and it gets harder every day. Just yesterday afternoon, Uncle Charlie sprayed Tommy with the hose, telling him that he was filthy and needed to get out of those clothes before he went inside. Watching as he undressed by the back door so that you could put his clothes on the line to dry had nearly given you a heatstroke — and if Charlie’s leering grin was any clue, you swear he did it on purpose in an attempt to rile you up. You ran off before you sinned right there in the yard, the memory of Thomas's shirt clinging to his arms, his chest glistening with water had kept you company well into the night.
So before Tommy puts a stop to your roll in the hay you make your move. You lift your dress up past your breast and expose yourself to him, you can see his breath stutter in his chest, this was quickly becoming the farthest you two had ever gone.
“Just watch me, Tommy, watch me,” you say breathlessly.
And he does, he sits on his haunches like a predator, his engorged cock straining against his pants and imagining just a taste has your tongue darting out to wet your lips, his gaze fixated on the movement.
Sliding your panties off your legs, your fingers dip briefly into your wet hole, gathering slick to rub onto your clit. At the very first touch, you let out a shuddering breath and you watch as his shoulders heave.
You begin rubbing your clit at an intense pace already turned on from the earlier heavy petting, not once breaking eye contact with Thomas as you do. With each moan you muffle you see his eyes grow darker with desire breathing with his mouth open as though he could taste your scent in the air. When he finally lets his cock spring free you let out your loudest moan yet. It’s better than you ever thought. His cock is thick and heavy, drooping slightly under its own weight but still undeniably firm. It curves slightly and you imagine that if it was inside you it would scrape against your walls in a way you've never been able to do with just your fingers.
Thomas grips his cock firmly and gives it a few tugs, eyes alternating between hungrily drinking in the sight of your blissed-out expression and your dripping pussy. You buck your hips, desperate to press your clit against your fingers and Thomas jerks his length even faster, rubbing his tip and spreading his precum on his hand.
God, you wished it was you that was touching him.
Thomas settles onto his knees and after a brief hesitation begins to shuffle closer to you. The sight of him crawling to you on his knees with his dripping length in hand made your pussy clench around nothing and you let out a whimper. You remove your fingers from your clit, feeling the heat radiating from his cock as he settles on top of you, legs spreading around his waist, your hips slightly raised and resting on his thighs.
The tip hesitantly pressed against your clit and your moan fills the small space before you can suppress it. This was better than you were hoping and it felt as though you were pressing against the boundaries the lord had set for you. Tommy’s eyes find yours looking for reassurance, asking without words, “Do you think this is okay?”
You find enough comprehension in your lust-addled brain to come up with a coherent answer, “It should be fine, I think,” you stammer out, “I mean, it’s not like — not like you’re putting it in so, it should be fine.”
You’re not overly familiar with the word of God outside of Sunday services and Luda Mae’s lectures, both of which you were forced to attend and spent tuning out in favor of watching the sweat build on Tommy’s brow while he worked through the window.
You think that if God could feel the weight of Thomas like you did, feel the heat like you could, you think he’d forgive the sin of your act.
It seems like that was all the reassurance that Thomas needed because no sooner than the words fumbled their way out of your mouth that he begins to drag the length of his cock against your slit.
God, if this is what hell was supposed to be like, burning and full of decadence, then perhaps you didn’t mind being a sinner.
The way he ruts against you is euphoric. Heavy breaths escape you both and you can’t help the words that spill from your lips.
“God, Tommy, I wish you would put it inside me,” you whine out “‘wanna feel your fat cock in my pussy, wanna get filled,” you might as well be begging at this point, and Tommy's increases his pace to the point that you think he wants the same thing, that he’s desperate to thrust into you rather than against you and —
And then the tip of his cock catches on your entrance and you both stop breathing.
“Maybe — Maybe it doesn’t count.” You stammer out, “It didn’t go in and it’s just the tip, and I don’t think that the tip counts” With the slightest twitch of his hips the tip of his cock has slipped inside.
"It's - it's just the tip it's fine” Your words sound empty even to you but the reassurance is all Tommy needs to push forward and let the head of his cock slide into your welcoming heat
His soul nearly leaves his body when he feels your raw pussy on the head of his cock. He jerks his length furiously and your fingers begin to move against your clit again, eager to meet your high with Thomas.
But it’s not enough. He was right there, right there just one push of his hips he’d be right where you needed him
“Please Tommy” Canting your hips slightly so the tip begins to dig deeper into you, you begin to plead once more, “wanna feel you fill me up, wanna remember the shape of your cock please”
Thomas feels years of control break at your words and with one swing of his hips, he bottoms out instantly. You feel like you've been punched in the gut as the air rushes out of you and you let out a sound like a wounded animal. Tommy stays still deep inside you, shaking and heaving, absolutely drunk on the feeling of your soaked walls clenching vigorously around his length.
You feel full in a way you've never thought possible. His length throbs, its girth stretching you in a way that burns.
When he finally starts thrusting, you’re not ready. He’s like a man possessed, solely focused on the feel of you around him, your skin pressed against his, his blood pounding in his ears.
“Wait— Tommy, ah, slow — slow down, oh god!” You can’t hold back your moans and he can’t stop, both fully engrossed in the feel of each other with no control over your own lust. Thomas crashes his lips onto yours in a halfhearted attempt to keep down your moans, it’s sloppy, clashing teeth and drooling tongues, spit escaping your lips, unlike any you’ve shared before.
This is completely different from what you’ve imagined your first time together would be like. It’s not your wedding night, you're laying on the dirty barn floor and there’s absolutely nothing gentle about the way Tommy is ravaging you. Your pussy is sopping wet and with every thrust, it lets out an embarrassing squelch, your juices and Tommy’s pre-cum leak down your ass and make a sticky mess in his dark pubes.
He doesn’t stop even as your walls spasm around him, cumming on his cock and digging your nails into his strong back. He works you through your orgasm even as your mouth clumsily forms the words to beg for him to slow down or to give you a moment. It’s too much, the sensations completely overloading your brain and all you can do is hold on tightly to him, lost in the ecstasy of your release.
Thomas lets out a deep, guttural groan as he cums, hips stuttering as he bullies his fat cock into the deepest part of your sex, filling you to the brim and your vision goes white.
Boneless, neither one of you makes a move to separate from the other, so thoroughly satisfied and content to lie where you are holding each other, Thomas’s softening cocking slipping out of you and spilling his release onto the ground.
His weight on you is comforting, you gently press kisses to his face and bask in the way his heavy breaths caress your sweaty skin.
“I love you.” You whisper into the shell of his ear and he squeezes you against him, repeating the words in his garbled voice the best he could. Your love is just for the two of you, no one else had a place in your world, no one else had the right to peak in on your affection or gawk at your differences.
This moment in time was just for the two of you.
“Thomas! Where the hell are ya, boy!”
Well, until Uncle Charlie’s voice brought you back down to reality.
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samuraisharkie · 1 year
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man is it too much to want to get a hug without being the one to initiate or having to ask. like just getting a hug bc someone you’re close to knows you and knows you’re feeling bad and just wants to give you a hug?? why is that so rare
#vent#btw I hesitate to tag this as vent bc it’s a cry for fucking help#like I don’t want anything other than just. a little moment of tenderness#I just need to be held sometimes without having to go through a social qte first#I’ve been feeling so starved for like. not awkward sympathy or anything but just some irl acknowledgement that I’ve been grieving.#I’ve gotten it from like. one friend . (zazha.)#one family member (kitty).#NO one else has acknowledged my grief or initiated any comfort irl.#I mean acknowledged beyond a quick ‘oh yea sorry abt that btw :/ anyway’ halfway through a conversation#is it like. not a big deal to them so they forget?? is that it? bc I pretty clearly don’t feel the same way#I’m not even mad I’m just desperate. it’s hard for me to start the conversation sometimes. sometimes maybe I don’t want a talk just a hug.#just some expression that the people I’m close to know I’m going through something and could use comfort without me having to spell it out.#I promise y’all I’m not averse to surprise hugs when I’m going through a bad time. thats not gonna be a bad thing.#I have to start tearing up in front of people to get displays of affection or sympathy/comfort and I do NOT like that#I don’t like crying in front of people but when that’s the only way for me to get a semblance of understanding out of people.#then I’m just gonna have to deal by myself bc my body will literally suction those tears to my eyeballs unless I’m especially broken up atm#part of me wants to say I haven’t expressed enough that I need it but at the same time. my pet died. you’d think that’d be enough?#to let someone know I’m upset and could use some tenderness? I know for some people it isn’t such a big deal but like.#I was pretty openly shattered by that. and whenever I express that brokenness irl ppl get uncomfortable#I’m not even doing it in a weird way I’m just saying ‘I’m going through a lot right now. if I’m a little low energy or monotonous—#— that’s why.’#just. goddamn. i know I’m typing like im mad but im more distraught and a little hurt.#it just hurts when I have to be the one to emotionally spell everything out so whenever that’s difficult for me im just fucked#like I know those people I’m close to are going through their own shit but. goddamn. 😭#you’d think after your friend is dealing w a death you’d be able to spare SOMETHING#I’ve been meaning to schedule an appointment with my therapist that I rarely contact bc she’s Christian and maybe calling blue cross#but that takes some MAJOR emotional energy and also some time and space for me to be by myself and private in the house#which isn’t really possible#long story why the therapist is Christian and yet I haven’t found another btw. short version is finding therapists is hell#and she at the very least doesn’t impose her religion on me
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awesumsaus · 5 months
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pretty when I cry
wc: 6k
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pairing: joel miller x f!reader
summary: what was meant to be a slow relaxing morning after a night out with joel turns into something much more.
a/n: so I’ve been trying to work out the rest of my tlou series but couldn’t get this idea out of my head. it’s entirely self-indulgent, absolute filth, literally inspired by porn (but with feelings). pls skip if you’re not comfortable with anything outlined in the warnings/tags, otherwise hope y’all enjoy :] (and if anyone has any interest in a part two lmk bc I may or may not have some ideas lolol)
warnings/tags: explicit 18+ (minors dni), no outbreak au, softdom!joel, smut with a hint of plot, established relationship, age gap, reader is described as small/little but also curvy, hints of possessive!joel, daddy kink, almost dd/lg dynamics, subspace, oral (f receiving), slight somnophilia (very consensual), size kink, dirty talk, so many petnames (baby, honey, pretty girl, little girl), painful sex but Joel is a consent king, aftercare, fingering, *cough* butt stuff *cough*, unprotected pinv, squirting, barely proofread sorry
It wasn’t uncommon, for you to wake up like this, Joel’s head of salt and pepper curls dipped below the covers, his mouth eagerly pulling an orgasm from your pliant body. So it comes as no surprise when you’re roused awake by the sound of your own whines and whimpers, slipping through your lips like soft little pleas. Your tired eyes shift to the top of his head, the sheets bunched at his wide shoulders, leaving you bare and exposed to the cool morning breeze blowing through the open bedroom window. 
He works in slow languid movements, yet he has you gushing around his tongue nonetheless, his mouth warm and wet against your dripping sex, still soft and swollen from the previous night’s activities. You’d fallen asleep, damp and sticky, only after he’d pounded you into his mattress until the early hours of the morning. 
Upon waking, the feeling of his cum still dripping out of you, legs wrapped around one of his dense thighs, it drove him positively insane. It didn’t matter how peacefully asleep you were, how steadily you drew breaths between your plush lips, he had to have you the moment his eyes set on you.  
He senses you’re awake when your fingers delicately twist through the curls at the crown of his head. He hums contentedly against you, the vibrations making your eyes fall closed once more as wanting sounds slip past your lips. You’d never been one for religion, but seeing Joel for the past several months has you questioning everything. The way his mouth moves against your pulsing core leaves you with no choice but to believe in some higher power, some celestial being that deemed you lucky enough to allow a man like Joel into your life.
He pulls away from your messy cunt and you whine at the loss. Your glossed over eyes meeting his with pupils blown wide. “Mornin’ pretty girl,” he says, his voice gruff and his lips shining with your slick. The sight sends another wave of warmth straight to your core. 
“Hi,” you say, tone gentle and weary with sleep. A timid smile spreads across your lips as you run a hand through his scruff. No matter how many times you wake up next to him, how many times he fucks you senseless, you always manage to grow shy under his salacious stare. 
He plants a fleeting kiss to your clit and you shudder, you can feel him smirk even as your gaze shifts to the ceiling above you. Your hand unknowingly grips his hair tighter and urges him towards where you need him most, not even noticing your own action until you hear Joel let out an amused chuckle. 
“So needy for me, huh baby?” He runs a hand from your thigh over the curve of your hip, his touch featherlight over the certain spot by your hipbone that he knows drives you wild. His fingers end splayed across your lower belly, his thumb rubbing small circles into your skin. 
“Always need you, daddy,” you say, only slightly above a whisper, a small buck of your hips to get your point across. The petname has his already half hard cock twitching against the sheets, his other hand instinctively squeezes the flesh of your hip. 
With no warning, his lips are on you again, his pace now fast and increasingly sloppy. He eats at you like a man starved, his curved nose rubbing against your clit with each of his movements. The intensity of it all makes your head spin and your cunt clench around nothing. A ghosting pain lingers in your lower half, another reminder of the evening prior. 
The two of you had gone out, like you often did on Friday nights, deciding on a new spot downtown. Joel was hesitant at first, having heard it was more popular with the younger crowd, more catered to people your age. But he’d learned early in your relationship that saying no to you was nearly impossible, with your big doe eyes and sweet pleading smiles, he rarely had it in him to deny anything your little heart desired. 
But God, the little black dress you wore nearly had him throwing you over his shoulder and locking you away in his bedroom for only his eyes to ever behold. Joel would never admit to being the possessive type. He knew what other men saw in you, wide eyed and sweet, kind beyond reason, with a gorgeous smile and beautiful curves. He saw the way they’d look at you, saw the way their eyes followed your perfect form, like predators stalking their prey.
He would never admit to being the possessive type, but his incessant grip around your waist in every public space and the death glares he’d send any man that looked your way proved otherwise. And despite your attempts to dissuade his arrogance, there was a part of you that craved to be claimed, to be marked as his. 
The week had been long and draining. Your overbearing boss forced you to work overtime into the late hours of the evening nearly every night, and with Joel’s days often starting as early as 5am, he was usually sound asleep by the time you’d managed to feed yourself and drag your exhausted corpse to bed. 
To no fault of his own, Joel hadn’t paid much attention to you this week, leaving you feeling neglected and irritated despite his generally relentless attentiveness towards you. And so you decided to toy with him, always testing his limits and seeing how far you can go before he snaps. You wouldn’t admit it, but you kinda liked him a little angry. 
And boy was it easy to get a rise out of him, especially dressed the way you were, your ass only just covered and your tits spilling over the tight corset-like top of your dress. You had his blood boiling before the two of you even left his house. When you finally walked through the bar entrance, Joel was like a guard dog, his arm wrapped tightly around your lower waist, a permanent scowl imprinted on his face towards the many male bar goers that ogled you. He had you tucked so close to his body you were nearly tripping over his feet with each of your steps. 
After your first drink you were feeling antsy, and a bit too bold for you own good, and so you flirted with them, boys you had not a single shred of interest in, laughed at their jokes and accepted their offers to buy you drinks, all the while glancing back at Joel, biting your lip, trying not to giggle at his grimace and the way redness began spreading up his neck. You’d retreat back to your table, to Joel, prizes in hand, and feign innocence when he’d question what you were up to. 
“What do y’ think you’re doin’,” he questioned after you had slipped away to the bar a second time under the guise of needing to use the restroom. You padded up to him, slotting yourself between his thighs, twirling the straw in your drink between your fingers. Even sitting on the barstool he towered over you. 
“Nothin’, daddy.” You looked up at him through your lashes, knowing fully well what your words did to him. You brought the hand that wasn’t holding your drink to his upper thigh, you could feel the muscle tense as you slid your way up, up, up. 
“Watch it, little girl.“ He grabbed your wrist, hard. You instinctively tried to pull away, but his grip was firm. He jerked you towards him, your chests nearly touching before bringing your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly, a stark contrast to the death grip he still had on your wrist. 
His voice was low, a sign of warning. “F’ you want somethin’ from me, all you gotta do is ask, darlin’.” 
You huffed and pouted slightly when he released you, ignoring the fact that your actions resembled those of a petulant child. Despite knowing that he would give you anything you asked of him, having proved it to you countless times over the course of your relationship, the neglected feeling in your chest grew. You didn’t want to ask, sick of making decisions and telling others what to do after the week you’d had. You wanted him to take. 
It was after your third disappearance, this time to actually use the restroom, that Joel snapped. Passing by the bar, one of the young men that bought you a drink attempted to stop you in your tracks. You didn’t pay him much attention, just smiled and nodded at his words, quietly trying to slip by. But then his hands were on you, grabbing your waist in a way that made your stomach turn. You hadn’t even had time to register a response, to push him away and run back to Joel, before his hands were leaving your body and being replaced by much larger ones, rough and calloused. Joel’s hands. 
“We’re leaving, now,” he grunted, pulling you by the back of your arm towards the exit. It was only after he’d practically thrown you into the passenger’s seat of his truck that you knew you were in for it. 
You’d barely made it to the front door before he was ripping the fabric of your little black dress from your body, letting the torn pieces fall to the floor. Immediately you’d attempted to scold him, it was one of your favorites, but couldn’t get a word in before he was throwing your bare body over his shoulder and carrying you to his bedroom, promising he’d buy you as many dresses as you wanted if you’d shut up and let him have his way with you, let him fuck you stupid, until the only thoughts going through your head were Joel, Joel, Joel.
He spent the following hours relentlessly pulling orgasm after orgasm from your pliable body, impaling you on his thick cock until hot tears streamed down your cheeks. 
“I know, baby,” he said from his place behind you, your limp whimpering form draped across the edge of the bed. “Just needed to be reminded who you belong to, huh?” His voice was mocking, but with a certain sincerity that made your cunt clench even harder around him. 
“Yours, daddy,” was all you could manage before you came around his cock for what felt like the hundredth time that night. 
Needless to say you were feeling extra sensitive this morning, Joel was hyper aware of this fact, yet the feeling of his tongue repeatedly diving into your abused hole had you begging for more. “Need you inside,” you say despite the hurt. Joel holds back a groan at your pleas, needy little thing. He pulls away just slightly to meet your gaze, his breath still hot against your core. 
“Not gonna put my cock in you, honey.” The finality in his voice makes your heart drop and tears prick in the corners of your eyes. You were always like this in the mornings, he had come to notice, sensitive, soft, often emotionally even more so than physically. Joel had always been an assured man, never impulsive or reckless in his actions, always thoughtful and never selfish. But with you he’d learned patience. He’d learned to hold your emotions in the palm of his hand with a certain gentleness he never knew himself capable of. He’d learned you often needed more time than most to become placid, to settle, and so it became almost a sense of his, knowing when to take and when to give, even when you weren’t sure yourself.  
“Please-“ you whine, tears in your voice. His big brown eyes soften when they meet yours, his resolve slipping only momentarily while he moves to kiss the inside of each of your thighs. 
“Not gonna convince me, baby.” he tuts. “Can’t take me yet.” He moves higher, nuzzles into the soft skin above your clit. You let out a small gasp when he starts sucking harshly, surely leaving a bruise, a mark that only he will ever see. 
“I can. I promise.” You wriggle in his hold, feel your wetness drip onto the sheets. He nips the spot and pulls away. 
“Quit.” He pins your hips harder, his eyes meeting yours once more. “Maybe if you hadn’t been such a goddamn tease last night I wouldn’t’ve had to wreck this perfect little pussy.” He runs a finger through your folds as he says it and you tense slightly. He raises an eyebrow at you, an I told you so look, you huff in frustration, yet you relax in his hold. 
“You ready to be good f’ me, baby?” His voice seeps through your ears like honey, your mind beginning to wander to that all too familiar headspace you often turned to in these moments. You nod your head, eyes hooded. Joel senses the shift. “You’re gonna take whatever daddy gives you yeah?”
“Yes,” you gasp as you feel just the tip of his index finger probe your dripping hole, Joel gauging your response. 
“N’ then what d’ you say?” He twists his finger inside you and pushes in just to his first knuckle, the stretch already intense given your increased sensitivity. 
“Thank you, daddy,” you sigh, not a single shred of fight left in you. A devilish smirk spreads across his face. 
“Good girl.”
His hands are on the backs of both your thighs, hiking your legs up so that they’re pressed firmly against your chest, your glistening folds on full display. You shiver as the cool morning air hits where you’re most vulnerable. He then pushes your knees apart, situating himself so that his mouth is only inches from your core while still holding you in place, your legs spread obscenely wide to accommodate the breadth of his shoulders. 
He spits directly on your clit and watches as it drips down your cunt, combining with the mess of wet already there. It’s entirely unnecessary, but it’s how Joel likes you, filthy with his cum and spit and your own slick. You tremble as he smooths his hand over your mound, his undivided attention on the mess he’s creating. When he’s satisfied, the pad of his thumb finds your clit, rubbing small circles into the bundle of nerves, making your hips buck once more.
He pauses his movements, his eyes dark and entirely void of any sense of leniency. “Not gonna tell you again.” A tear pools in your lower lashes at the loss of his touch, your breathing goes shaky. 
“So pretty when you cry f’ me, honey,” his tone mocking. “Almost as pretty as when you come for me.”
His mouth is back on you, even more ravening and unrelenting than before. You have to bite down on your pillow to prevent yourself from screaming when his lips wrap around your clit, sucking the sensitive bud into his warm mouth. Every cell in your body is screaming for his touch, needing more, more, more. You want to be enveloped by him by not just his mouth, but every part of him. You have the sudden desire to crawl under his skin, make a home for yourself there, where all you can ever feel is him, him, him. 
The peaceful sound of birds chirping outside the window is drowned out by your cries and the pornographic squelches of your wet sex. Your vision blurs as his tongue plunges in and out of you. 
“Taste so fucking good, baby,” he pulls away for only a second, his eyes not leaving your center as he anchors his thick arms under your ass and thighs, bringing your cunt impossibly closer to his eager mouth.  
Joel knows your body, knows what every twitch and minor shift means, how your breathing quickens when he’s brought you right to the edge, the sounds you make when you’ve completely given in, forfeited all control. And he senses it, when his thumb presses against the cleft of your ass, and a moan slips from deep within your throat, that he’s uncovered something, something that makes his cock twitch and drip onto the sheets below him. 
He pulls away quick, too quick, and your face burns, the fleeting sensation prompting a new surge of desire in the pit of your stomach. The feeling was foreign, a bit startling, but in a way that left you longing for more. If you were to trust anyone to delve into this part of yourself, this uncharted territory, it would be Joel. It would always be Joel. He knew how to take care of you better than any man you’d ever known. With him you were safe, you were heard, cherished and adored. With him there was no emotion too big or too small, no desire left unsated. 
“Joel-“ you breath. “Joel, baby. I want-“
He pulls away from you, a knowing look in his glassed over eyes. “What is it, honey? What d’ you want?”
He can’t help himself and licks a long strip from your asshole to your clit, moaning at the taste. “Fuck- Joel,” you cry out, a drop of sweat falling to your forehead. “Want- want your fingers.”
“Where d’ you want my fingers, baby.” He says it more like a command than a question, but you can’t respond, your head falling back as he starts lapping at your clit. “You want them in this sweet little cunt?” He prods one of his thick fingers at your opening, but quickly pulls away, leaving you clenching around nothing. 
You bite your lip, eyes hooded. “Mm,” you shake your head. His eyes are nearly black now, something unhinged, sinful behind his gaze. He knows what you want, the seed already planted in his insatiable brain, but he wasn’t going to give in to your pleads that easily. 
“Dirty girl.” His voice has dropped an octave. “Tell me what you want.”
“Please, daddy” you squirm, tears pooling at your waterline, threatening to fall at any second. His hardened grip on your hips softens for a moment before he’s turning his head and biting the inside of your thigh, hard. You gasp, a tear rolls down your cheek. “Use your words.”
“I wan- I-I don’t-,” you babble, the tears now flowing freely, leaving wet trails down your cheeks. He lets you choke on your words for a moment, not once tearing his eyes away from yours. 
“Oh honey, I know s’ hard,” he soothes, sliding his hand along the curve of your ass. Your tears slow. “S’okay. Daddy’s gonna give you what you need. No more cryin’.”
You sniffle, a small smile spreading across your face at his words. You always had a way of making him cave.
His expression goes serious for a moment. “What’s your safe word?” Red. “And you’ll use it if you want me to stop?” Mhm. “Repeat it.” His commanding tone sends a chill down your spine. “If I want you to stop, I’ll say red,” you say softly and run a hand through his curls, wet with a mixture of your sweat and his own. 
“Fuck, baby. Gonna make you feel so good,” he says more to himself than you. Your brain turns to absolute mush when his mouth meets your skin once again. 
Even with his head between your legs, even when he’s on his knees for you, he’s the one in charge, the one that dictates your every move. How your body twists and bends to his will. He decides when you get to cum, decides when you’ve earned it. And there’s a certain feeling that comes with it, this loss of autonomy, a sense of ease and security created by a total loss of control. No other man you’ve been with has understood, most of them only seeking to fulfill their own selfish wants. But Joel knows, having understood this unfamiliar part of you almost as soon as the two of you met, knowing exactly how to satiate that little corner of your brain that craves submission. 
You suck in a sharp breath when you feel his calloused thumb return to your tight hole, tensing a bit when he adds more pressure. 
“Relax, baby.” And you do, your muscles go lax almost immediately and the furrow in your brow softens. You exhale a moan as he begins kissing your cunt, avoiding your most sensitive areas so that he can keep you focused on the feeling of his thumb pushing into you. 
“Fu- fuck, Joel!” You basically shriek when the tip of his thumb breeches the ring of muscle, it’s already all consuming, already so full.
He retracts his thumb and you let out a choked sound before he brings his thick finger to your wetness, gathering slick on the pad of his thumb before resuming his unrushed stretching of your virgin hole. 
“More ngh- please.” He prods you painfully slow, assessing your every reaction as his knuckle plunges into you. 
“Uh-uh. Don’t care how nice n’ polite you ask, baby. Not gonna ruin this little hole.” He plants wet kisses along your seam. “Not yet,” he says almost inaudibly against your mound before devouring you once more. The promise of more makes something in your brain snap, all the shyness and trepidations from before gone in one fleeting moment. 
He stretches you slowly, the speed of his mouth quickening and his thumb beginning to slide more easily in and out of you. You’re entirely lost in the feeling, completely overwhelmed by the pressure and the speed of his tongue on your clit. You cry out when he removes his thumb, replacing it with his middle finger, and dipping his freed digit into your cunt, completely overcome, overstimulated in the best way. 
It’s too much, but not enough. But no, it’s too much. He’s everywhere, in your cunt, your ass, your head. All you can think is how anything in life could ever feel this good. How anyone can be this good, this knowing of your every want, every need. The thought makes tears pinch at the corner of your eyes. 
His gaze is fixed on you, every twitch, every shift. He nearly comes at the sight of you grinding down on his fingers. That’s it baby, fuck yourself on my fingers. His movements slow, your orgasm begins to fade and you whine. You’re not even thinking when you bring your delicate fingers to your clit and trace small circles against the bundle of nerves. Joel immediately grabs your hand and pins it to your lower stomach, nearly growling against your skin. Any other time he’d have you bent over his knee for not asking permission, but he’s so drunk on you, so dead-set on making you come apart, he lets this one slide. 
“Need t’ come so bad, huh baby?” You nod your head furiously, a few more tears slipping down your cheeks. “Go ‘head n’ ask for it then, baby. Nice n’ polite like I know you can.”
“Please daddy, please let me come.” You barely register the words falling from your mouth, but the proud look on Joel’s face tells you all you need to know.
It doesn’t take much to send you over the edge. He sucks harshly on your clit, pulling it into his mouth, while his thick fingers work each of your holes. His hand holding yours presses harder, harder, harder until the tension snaps and you’re screaming, sobbing out as you gush around him, soaking his scruff to the point that your slick drips from his chin and onto the already drenched sheets. He works you through it, curling his fingers into your cunt so that another warm stream of slick hits his tongue. And he takes, not letting a single drop go to waste as he laps at you. 
Your head is still buzzing when he finally ceases his movements, the shockwaves of your orgasm still flowing through you making your whole body shake. Your muscles convulse as he slowly pulls his fingers from your core. 
With blurred vision you watch him stand at the end of the bed, his cock painfully hard, red and leaking. You hadn’t even considered what all this was doing to him, so lost in your own pleasure from the moment your eyes opened. You have the sudden urge to fall to your knees and take him into your mouth until he comes deep down your throat, but your body is limp, sunk into the mattress below you. You merely watch with hooded eyes as he fists himself, his gaze fixed on your slicked core, the sight makes another pool of your arousal drip onto the sheets.
“Fuck-“ he sucks in a sharp breath, his hips stuttering against his own hold. “Need t’ be inside this tight cunt, baby.”
Your eyes go slightly wide at his confession, yet your lower half shakes with anticipation. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this, this wrecked, desperate, this needy. He looks almost pained when your eyes meet his, and you feel as though you may just implode if he’s not inside you a moment longer. 
“Will you let me, pretty girl?”
You nod. 
“Yes or no, baby?” He squeezes the base of his shaft, staving off his impending release. You can’t help but smile a little, knowing he could come just like this, just from looking at you in your current state. But the need to feel him inside of you pulls you from the thought. 
Yes, please, yes.
He grabs your hips and swiftly flips you, shoving a pillow under your lower belly and pushing down on you until you’re laid almost flat on your stomach. He grabs roughly at your hips, pulling you up so that his cock brushes up against your slick folds. 
You bite down on your forearm when his wide tip notches at your entrance, basically drooling onto your own skin as you attempt to hold back your cries. He eases into you, still overly conscious of your sensitivity, ignoring the small part of his brain telling him to ram into you, make you feel every inch of him in one swift motion. He knows that you would take it, thank him for it, always such a good girl for him especially once he’s finally inside you, yet he knows the kind of control he has over you in these moments, knows it’s up to him to determine what you can and can’t take. 
When he bottoms out you feel as though you may just split in two, something animalistic sounds from deep within Joel’s throat. Tears fall to your arm when your head lolls to the side, your breathing ragged and your whole body on fire from both pain and pleasure.
“Fuck- not gonna last, baby.” He starts moving in and out of you slowly, and god, it hurts, yet your tight cunt sucks him back in with each of his thrusts, a delicious burning sensation spreading along your slick walls. You open your mouth to respond, to tell him not to worry himself, to beg him to come inside your aching cunt. But all that escapes your lips is a choked sob in the sound of Joel’s name. 
“Shh I know,” he coos. “You’re just so little, huh sweet thing? Little fucking cunt squeezing me so good honey.”
You keen at his praise, gushing around his massive girth. You’d never get used to it, the thickness of his cock, the weight of him deep inside your cunt. No matter how much he prepares you, it’s always a stretch, always just short of too much to bare. 
His thumb presses into the cleft of your ass as his pace increases. “Gonna let me fuck you here, baby?”
“Yes daddy,” you say and he freezes for a moment, your words nearly sending him over the edge. 
“Not today, little girl,” he growls and rocks back into you. A feeling of combined relief and disappointment washes over you. You’re not sure you could take it, not now, but part of you craves to be reduced to nothing but Joel’s fuck toy, fucked deep and full until you can’t even think, nothing but a few holes to be filled. 
“You’d let me though, wouldn’t ya?” He pulls you from your thought. “Dirty fuckin’ thing.”
“Mhm, yes daddy.” Your vision goes black at the feeling of his cock pulsing against your cervix. He was close, you could feel it in the way his thrusts went erratic, sloppy and slightly hurried. 
“Let me do whatever I want to ya, huh?”
“Yes daddy,” you say the only two words left in your brain. 
“Fuck, so fucking perfect, baby-“ The feeling of his warm release shooting inside of you makes you twitch around him and your brain go fuzzy. You can barely hear Joel’s grunts and moans nor his incessant praises over the ringing in your ears. This is what you craved, beyond the physical gratification brought on by these moments, but the way the world around you disappeared and you were filled with nothing but the content of being his, being Joel’s. The safety you felt beneath his large form, it leaves no room for worry, no thoughts of the stress of everyday life, no decisions to be made. Just him, just Joel. 
You’re not sure how long the two of you stay like this, long enough to feel your combined release dripping from Joel’s cock onto your trembling thighs, long enough that you feel yourself dipping in and out of sleep, in and out of consciousness. 
When he finally pulls out of you, he lets your hips softly fall onto the bed, your body sprawled across the damp sheets. You feel the mattress shift behind you as he stands, immediately heading for the en suite bathroom. At the loss of his presence, you’re reminded of the open window, the now midmorning breeze dancing across your damp skin. You can’t help but wonder if the echoes of your morning endeavors made their way to the street below, if a neighbor passing by could make out the sounds of your shrieks and screams, if perhaps it’d been a cause for concern until it became apparent that your cries were derived from a place of pleasure and not pain nor fear. 
Joel returns and takes quick notice of your shivering, immediately making his way to the window and shutting it. You smile to yourself at the sight of his bare backside, so strong and sturdy, the muscles in his shoulders sculpted from years of working on various job sites, tapering down to his waist, the dimples right above his ass. It’s truly a view you would never tire of. 
“‘S impolite to stare, y’ know?” He catches your eye, a playful smirk spread across his face. You giggle at him, still laying on your belly, your head tucked into the crook of your elbow. He chuckles when you make grabby hands at him with your free hand, to which he quickly concedes, bending over at your side and planting a kiss on your lips. You sigh against him, carding your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer. 
“Hey baby.” He breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your nose. He tucks fallen pieces of hair behind your ear. “You okay?” 
You nod your head tiredly, unable to muster any more of a response, and he doesn’t attempt to pull one out of you, kissing your nose and rising back to his feet. 
He disappears once again, this time returning dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and a damp washcloth in hand. He sits next to you on the bed, moving to clean between your legs, but your thighs clamp shut. It’s a purely physical reaction, your body on high alert due to the sensitivity. 
“Hey hey-“ he runs a soothing hand up and down your spine then leans over to press a kiss to your shoulder. “Just want t’ clean you up sweet girl. I’ll be so gentle, promise.” His soothing makes your legs instinctively relax and he brings the washcloth to the apex of your thighs. He’s gentle just like he promised, yet you still hiss slightly when the warm material meets your sensitive skin. 
When he’s finished, he grabs one of his t-shirts and a pair of shorts from the dresser, quickly returning to your side and urging you to turn onto your back. He dresses you, your body like putty in his hands, his touch gentle and warm. You can’t deny the aching feeling in your lower half when he slides your shorts on, but it’s a good kind of ache, an ache you’ll crave as soon as it dissipates. 
You grab at him again when he moves to pull away, but he makes it easy for you, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, careful not to bare any of his weight on you. The little whimpers that slip past your lips as your warm mouth moves across his make his spent cock twitch.
It scared him sometimes, the intensity with which he felt for you, the depth of his affections. It scared him, the thoughts he had, of what he would do to those who meant to hurt you, to those who have hurt you. It scared him, the thought of losing you, the lengths he would go to keep you safe, keep you here, here with him. But it was in these moments, when you’re laid beneath him, so soft and so lovely, that all those fears melted away. 
Before things move any further, he hooks his arms under you and lifts you from the bed with ease. You don’t protest, not sure you could even if you wanted to, instead you latch onto him, curl your face into his neck and wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you downstairs to the living room. 
He attempts to set you on the couch, but you cling to him like a koala, arms wrapped tightly around his neck. “Let go,” he says firmly, a smile behind his words. “Don’t wanna,” you mumble against his skin, whining as he unfurls you from his torso and plops you on the couch. He places the TV remote in your hand, telling you to put somethin’ on, whatever you want.
He disappears into the kitchen and you attempt to sit up on the couch, your body going slack against the cushions. Your brain is still buzzing, it’s almost like you’re floating, not yet fully aware of your surroundings, but you can slowly feel yourself coming back to reality. You turn the TV on and set it to your latest recording. 
Joel returns a few minutes later, your favorite water bottle and a plate of peanut butter toast in hand, a bottle of Advil in the other. He sits on the couch, immediately urging you onto his lap, and you don’t object. 
“The Bachelor?” He says, a hint of judgement in his voice as he unscrews the cap of the Advil. 
“You love it,” you respond, beginning to lose focus on the show as you squirm and slither against his body, making yourself comfortable as if he were part of the couch. Joel softly chuckles, wrapping an arm loosely around you.
He holds a few of the pills in front of you. “Joel I’m fine. I don’t-“
“Not asking, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes, but take the Advil from him nonetheless, swallowing them down when Joel holds the straw of your water bottle to your mouth, knowing your body would thank you for it later. 
“Good girl,” he plants a quick kiss to your temple, before grabbing the toast from the coffee table, heat rises to your cheeks at his words.
He feeds you the toast, taking bites for himself while you chew. You hadn’t realized how depleted your body was, now feeling the haze lift with some food and water in your system. Every time it’s like coming back to earth, but fortunately you know that Joel will always be there to catch you. 
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y'all I’m not good at endings pls forgive me
but hope we enjoyed the rest :p
part two
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xxzlushiez · 11 months
Text
Angelic girl
T. Kaulitz x f! Reader
Synopsis: Tom sees a girl and she like looks like a complete angel he tries to do his little flirty things with her but she just ignores it and it makes him like her even more.
Tags: Name is attractive, clingy Tom, couple goals Frl, toms whipped, the band finds it funny, touchy Tom, make out seshs after concerts
“Even if my heart stops beatin, you’re the only thing I need… with me.”
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- the first time he saw you his eyes were GLUED
- it was post concert and he was just out goofing around buying random stuff with the band when he saw you
- You were just on the phone talking with a friend and getting snacks at a small corner shop
- But bro he was whipped
- wide eyed and all, might’ve walked into a shelf of accident
- his eyes would not leave you the whole time you were browsing around the store
- let’s say you caught him staring and he just looked like a deer in the headlights bc he didn’t expect to be caught
- you laughed and said something to your friend on the phone abt him before walking past him to pay
- once he snapped out of it and saw you were leaving he chased after you
- leaving the rest of the group staring at him like 😐 “tf just happened”
- when he DID catch up to you and got your attention he would try and play it off and would be like-
- “hey, I’m Tom-“ would probably try and lean up against a wall but would slip and almost fall bc he wasn’t close enough to it
- you legit stared at him like 🤨 not impressed
- “Uhh…I’ll call you back”
- you looked him up and down and asked if he needed anything
- he tries use pick up lines on you but you just laugh a little and walk away and leave him following you like a kicked puppy while you continued to talk with your friend
- Bill and Gustav are def staring at him from the convenience store window like🧍while Georg is hyping him up
- is a persistent mf and eventually sets up a hangout with you the following day (he begged on his knees and clung onto your leg until you accepted)
- pictures show up all over the media speculating on you two’s relationship
- photos are mostly of Tom getting walked like a dog by you
- he’s always walking behind you while you lead him to god knows where
- tags along everywhere you go even for minuscule things
- many comment on how different his attitude is when he’s with you
- once y’all are closer, dating or not he is alllll over you 24/7
- can never stay away from you
- head on the shoulder hugging you from behind while you talk with someone
- playing with the belt loops on your pants while you play with his hair while talking with the band
- Hand on your lower back while walking the carpet or through crowds of paparazzi
- makes out w/ you after concerts bc of that adrenaline rush and you both love it sm
- against the wall backstage n everything
- grabs at anything he can but most you’re waist
- loves pushing his hips flush against yours
- whiny if you tell him he has something scheduled and can’t spend time with you
- always touching your ass and doesn’t care who sees wants ppl to see
- literally had to kick him out so you could shower alone one time bc he wouldn’t leave
- eventually you just accepted you’ll have to shower with someone all the time
- You def pulled him he didn’t pull you
- he’s not ashamed to admit that
- Lowkey moody when you’re not around and with him and it drives the band crazy
- head over heels type of love with him
- always staring at you with puppy dog eyes
-watches you do your hair and makeup
- sneak peeks what you’re wearing so he can subtly match in his own style
- when fans try to flirt he’s like 🏃”Name where’s Name”
- One time a fan tried to get his attention by showing off the shirt she was wearing and showing her chest and he was like…
- “How would Name look in that”🤔
- “Name would NOT wear something like that”
- said it out loud one time and almost made a fan cry but apologized bc Bill said so
- but Tom is Tom and if you notice him checking someone out or flirting without knowing you’d set him straight
- you know your worth and tell him off if needed
- but the chance he would is like one in a million because who is better than you?
- ‘no one’ is the answer
- interviewee’s would try and bring up how much he changed relationship wise and he’s like
- “well yeah I’m literally dating her why would I want anyone else?”
- def teased by Bill and Georg on how whipped he is
- doesn’t deny it at all and just nods his head like “yeah Ik bro isnt she great”
- Carves your name on the side of one of his guitar with a knife and it’s all wobbly and messy but you loved it and he was so giddy abt it
- if you have piercings he’ll get matching ones
- comments on your appearance 24/7
- “You’re so hot”
- “did you get prettier?”
- “is that skirt new?”
- you always put him in his place without even saying anything
- like he say smth and you just staring and him and he’s like
- “ I was just kidding babe of course just jokes😁”
- sweats bullets when when you guys fight abt things bc you are scary
- Begs for forgiveness
- Buys you so much stuff and doesn’t stop even if you want him to
- I feel like gift giving is his love language and there is no stopping it (just accept them it makes him cheese so hard he’s all happy and will kickin his feet n shit when you aren’t looking)
- named “teen couple of the year” in lots of magazines
- he keeps those magazines inside of his nightstand
- gets so many questions abt you in interviews
- gets a little to personal with the answers
- embarrasses you sometimes but find it amusing and so does he
- even fans can’t get mad because you guys r just so cute together
- literally some fans named yall #goals
- The band loves you guys together because it brings out the good in Tom
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