#i am like a newbie in the Fandom

[meadowsofmay]

listen good folks, i need a fanfic where thranduil braids legolas' hair through the years of his growing up — like, when legolas was a baby, a teen, when he went into his first battle, when he went into his 100th and when he was struggling in the healing ward from serious injury and his hair were getting in the way, maybe some formal event and anything else that your imagination will be able to create.

and maybe, a couple of times when legolas braids his father's hair, just a thought

please, if your have anything, something, help my poor soul out

[gillyburnsthings]

[un-pearable]

are there any sonic fics you’d recommend?

sonic is a weird fic fandom for me bc my go to for narrative with those characters is just the comics, yknow? and in my experience the fandom’s strong suits are more in the fanart-fancomic realm so i’m very nitpicky about sonic fics i would actually recommend. my ‘best of sonic’ bookmark tag is a VERY exclusive club.

that being said fifteen of the twenty bookmarks are by chaoxfix so just read all of their work. it’s stunning. particular fave is the big the cat one

other standouts include hikareh’s stuff (especially the knuckles in forces one. look i’m predictable)

aaphant also has some incredible knuckles stuff

Speedy1236 has some of the best team sonic content i’ve EVER seen so like start here and go wild

if you’re interested in highly specific archie fics about various robots i’m obsessed with here you go <- last one is cheating (i wrote that)

this is a very scattered recc list but yeah 👍 if i remember more specific ones ill add on :) hope you enjoy

[nostalgia-tblr]

must admit i find it a bit odd that "we" don't comment on fic as the result of anxiety of some sort or from simply not knowing what to say, yet "they" don't comment on fic because they just mindlessly consume content due to capitalism and social media 🤔

[buckevantommy]

i don't understand why there's a sudden influx of so many stolen tumblr posts reposted on tumblr. this ain't twitter/x or insta stealing our posts - this thievery is coming from inside the house and i need someone to explain W H Y but i also need all you newbies to cut this shit right the fuck out right the fuck now

[thedaythatwas]

the p5r soundtrack is going to make my spotify wrapped very confusing this year (the primary culprit is no more what ifs but from my blog, really, what else did you expect?)

[stirdrawsandreblaws]

trying to gently explain to someone that you do not make an oc for a decades-old thing that has one of the most autistic and lore-entrenched fanbases without being willing to do either 1) a cursory wiki skim beforehand about the extensively well-established canon you're supposedly building your character off of, or 2) prepare for people to Not Like Or Understand What You're Going For, Here

tl;dr if you wanna do an alternate interpretation of a d&d god (and llolth??? being a sad misunderstood and distant power who didn't want any murdering done in her name????? and Personally treats a *male* cleric well???? is Definitely an alternate interpretation) then...make your own setting and write or DM for it?? instead of being mad that other people would share lore with you bc what you've come up with directly contradicts the canon that everyone else is going by???

[nourrris]

(mcu!)FLASH THOMPSON DESERVES BETTER

Yes. i am bringing this onto tumblr. bc i got so angry i just Couldnt keep it to myself on twt.

So why does flash (tom holland mcu version) get seen as an absolute asshole? like i need a genuine answer if its people who just need some form of bully and decide to use him or they GENUINELY perceive him as bad as they make him up to be. Like ive seen so many bigoted versions of him, him making jabs at peters trauma, over using the internship joke and making him say shit flash would never because of his own pride, also???? he wouldnt be a prick to peter infront of tony stark???? like lets be serious now. Nevertheless, i just really do hate how peoplel see him. He's not the kindest character, and is still classified as a bully, (more annoying in hoco than ffh or nwh) but hes not /cruel/, hes just a fucking teenage nuance, who does and will grow out of his shitty phase probably, and he doesnt really hate peter, more so just clearly jealous of him (from what i can see)

[elegyofthemoon]

Woah I really appreciate your comment on my art <3

Idk how more tumblr accs aren't insane about hi3, literally redefined my life

OF COURSEEE your style is honestly one of my fave styles!! it makes me always think of those paper doll arts whenever i see them its so neat ;v;

tbh I'm kinda surprised !! maybe it's just bc I'm incredibly new so I am attempting (read: failing) to avoid a lot of spoilers and thus a lot of content buuuut I also feel like I don't get to see very much in general of honkai which makes me sad :( it's been super good so far and i KEEP asking myself why I didn't get into it sooner bc its just sooooo good 😭😭

ANYWAYS LONG STORY SHORT i love your art thank you for making it and letting me cry over it 👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻

[whywoulditho]

i think it's really funny that people outside of tumblr kinda try to hide the fact that they read fanfiction?? even if they say they read them they don't wanna give you specifics, they say they don't remember the names etc. i guess they try to give you the impression that they don't get that invested in fanfiction or whatever. not even a single time when i've seen a post about fanfics and/or a pairing on tiktok and asked for fic recs in the comments has someone replied. but here i can just pop up in a mutual's inbox out of the blue and ask for fic recs any time and they'll post like 20 links and give in depth reviews and ratings on all of them

[sylvva]

anon said : 

TRY + a character YOU want to write but never got to

meme // accepting  

     ❝It would be an easy fix, but are you sure you don’t want me to redesign this all together?❞ Cyan spread the costume on her work table and started to cut away the burnt area. A hand then laid flat to allow her quirk to do its job. In a matter of seconds threads fixed themselves up, making the outfit whole again. ❝The design is certainly practical, but it could be far more cuter if you let me add to it.❞

     ❝No, no, you got it all wrong!❞ Mei seemed to pop up out of no where, attempting to push Cyan out of the way. Tt shouldn’t have been too surprising she was here, it was the support studio after all, the inventor basically lived here. ❝It needs a little flair! And one of my babies would be perfect for it!❞ Her eyes shown with excitement as she turned to the young hero who had the misfortune of coming to these two for help. 

     ❝I kind of like my costume the way it is.❞ The base sketch for it was done by her originally. There was a special part of her that didn’t want to see it go through any changes, although another part of her wondered if that was practical. ❝I’ll give you guys my number though, maybe text me your ideas?❞ The frog girl pulled out her phone and handed it to Cyan first, then Mei. Intrigued to see what they would come up with. 

Kawai Cyan (oc): inspiring hero costume designer, support class 1-H rep.

Hatsume Mei: The most promising inventor of the current generation, also in class 1-H.

Asui Tsuyu: Froppy the Rainy Season Hero, class 1-A’s sweetest girl.

[renleonhart]

I have given in and joined The Assassin's Creed Fandom, but would very much like some advice please. Even though I kinda grew up with the first few games my brother studpidly traded all of them before he could give me a chance to play them myself. (Since I was the younger sibling I was told I could only watch him play, which I hated because I wanted to play too.)

Like is there anything that I should be cautious about, is there a specific starting point for me to play, etc?

[realbacchus]

Hey it's summer which means I can once again only read books I own that I absolutely cannot stand and have taken years to finish!

[frownyalfred]

fandom etiquette

my hot take of the week (that absolutely no one asked for) is that there’s a crap ton of ao3 “etiquette” touted on here that’s actually 100% optional.

really. if it’s not in the TOS and it’s not required by the tagging system, there is no right or wrong “etiquette.”

yes, people sometimes use that flexibility to be dicks, but most of the time I see “etiquette” being enforced on authors who 1) used the tagging system correctly and 2) have inadvertently done something that readers don’t “like.”

examples of this I’ve seen: using the “creator chose not to warn” tag and then not tagging MCD, underage, etc. i.e., things that are absolutely allowed to not be tagged under that broader tag.

another example: writing a fic with a sad ending and not tagging the sad ending ahead of time. absolutely permissible, but if you do this people get pissed.

and another example: using archive warnings and zero additional tags.

all of these are examples of 100% valid and compliant usage of the ao3 tag system. and yet, we tend to penalize fics that follow this tagging style. I’ve seen people rate them, rec them with poorly concealed disgust, or even suggest that they should be reported.

“etiquette” is highly subjective and fandom-dependent. if you ask 10 different ao3 users, you’ll get different answers. pressuring newbie writers to follow your etiquette can make the whole process overwhelming when it doesn’t need to be.

now. there’s complying with ao3 TOS, there’s “etiquette,” and there’s marketing. the reason fics that follow general “etiquette” tend to do better is because they’re easier to find, easier to predict, and easier to filter in/out depending on certain tags and events. easier to sell, essentially.

users who choose not to warn, or use auxiliary tags, tend to see a hit in readership. it’s a known risk. but if the author is making that choice knowingly, that’s the end of the discussion.

etiquette is expected or implied conduct, but it is not required. as a writer, you get to weigh the pros and cons of following fandom “etiquette.” some find it beneficial, others stifling. sometimes it changes fic to fic.

I am wary of a lot of anti-shipping and fandom purity that is starting to masquerade as “etiquette” on here. we need to check ourselves, and remember how highly subjective our wants and desires for content can be sometimes.

[peterspinkrobe]

Communion | AU Priest Miguel O’Hara x female Reader

A/N: I commissioned the above Priest Miguel. Ever since the artist sent the sketch, (@ ejpuki on twitter plz go show love!) this story has been a brewin’ in my cranium. I am not a newbie when it comes to fanfic, but a virgin to writing Miguel. Please accept this offering to the mania that is fandom. Feedback is appreciated. I know the tenses are probably all over the place. Part 2 is live!!. Let me know if you’re interested ~~

Warnings: Religious content, parents, dirty-minded reader, no mention of Y/N

As you sat in the middle pew, aisle seats, you fiddled with the dress your mother guilted you into wearing. The hem of the skirt had a little fraying and you couldn’t help but pick at it.

The meddling was met with a small smack on your wrist from your mother.

“Stop! You’re going to make it worse! I know it’s an old dress but it will only look that way if you pick at it.” The sharpness in tone and the lacy lilac dress from high school brought you back to all of the Sunday mornings you’d been ripped from the comfort of your bed to attend church.

Church. Your head was already starting to hurt from the early morning light pouring through the stained glasses windows, but your tried to remain neutral to spare mom.

Your relationship with the Almighty soured not long after your father passed. Faith was hard to come by and the struggles you’d faced recently only strained that even further.

“Sorry, mama.” You say quietly, acting like you’re still twelve and not in your mid twenties.

Ever since you moved back in you’ve had to live under “her rules”. Sunday service is one of those rules. Considering the headache you’ve caused her recently, you ignore your own and do as she asks. It’s only fair.

But church? Last week was your first time back inside a church since leaving for college five years ago. It was the same one you’d been dragged to in your younger years. The same stained pews, same old books of Psalms, same feeling of estrangement despite being surrounded by the same old folks.

Your mom had turned her attention to the lady that lived on our street and you turned your own attention to your fingernails, scraping underneath them for dirt that wasn’t there. You think about how you had dropped the habit until moving back in, but was interrupted by microphone static.

You pulled your gaze to the front of the church and saw Father Steen tapping the microphone. Despite only being five years since you last saw him, the man seemed to have aged decades. His frail frame balanced on the podium as he spoke. You realized why the microphone was needed when he started speaking - amplifying the hushed tone of the elder addressing his congregation.

“Good morning and many blessings to you all this Sunday morning,” he began and you couldn’t help but lower your gaze back to the frayed bit of your dress. His monotone voice was… kinda boring. You hated thinking that way because Father Steen was such a good man and he cared for your mother greatly when dad passed. He was mentioning an upcoming surgery and you were back to picking at your fingernails. His voice eked on through the speakers, “so we will be having a transitional deacon come in to take over my position until I recover. This fine young man has graciously accepted this position as he is working to become a priest himself. Please welcome Mr. O’Hara as he leads us in prayer to begin communion for this month.”

There is respectful applause and your eyes are still on your hands until your mom elbows you gently. You start to apologize again for not paying attention but notice she and her pew neighbor are giggling as they clap. You start to clap your own hands as you look up at what they were giggling like schoolgirls about when your hands freeze in their clapped position - almost like you’re praying.

The deacon that Father Steen introduced was… gorgeous, and he was looking at you. You blushed, embarrassingly, under the gaze of the dark eyes. Could he tell you hadn’t been paying attention?

Well, you most certainly were now.

You pulled your eyes away from him to look at your mother who was wiggling her eyebrows at you, causing you to blush even deeper and turn back to the front.

The first thing you notice about the man standing at the front of the church was his height. He towered over the podium he placed a hand on. Father Steen came up to only just above his elbows with his hunched body.

The eyes that were watching you now surveyed the room and the light from the windows shown dark, warm pools of irises. His face…

Sharp symmetry made up his countenance. Distinct cheekbones bobbing as the smooth bronze skin stretched upwards into a smile. The strong jawline accentuated with the muscles of his lips pulling back, revealing a dazzling toothy smile.

When he spoke for the first time, you understood why your mom cried during Psalms at times. His voice was gospel.

“Thank you, all, for welcoming me into your parish. I know that you have received excellent spiritual guidance from Father Steen. I can only hope to at least partially fill his shoes in his absence.” His voice boomed throughout the church with no need for a microphone. “Before we begin the sacred ritual that is communion, let us bow our heads in prayer.”

The church around you dutifully lowered their heads, and you did the same. Hating closing your eyes to the alluring man in front of the church. At least his voice still filled your ears with song.

“Heavenly Father, we are gathered here today, in your house, in the name of your Son to receive the Body and Blood of Christ…” you decide it won’t be such a terrible sin to sneak a peek during prayer. You lift your head up to catch another glimpse at the ethereal creature leading prayer while he wasn’t looking.

But he was looking. Right at you as he continued to recite, “We are all sinners, and we are all in need of your grace and forgiveness.” You start to think about how much you needed his grace, when you pinch yourself for the blasphemy.

You’re still staring at each other as he finishes, “We pray that You will bless this communion and that it will deepen our relationships with You.” You instantly feel heat in your gut when you wonder just how deep it can go..

You think you see him grin slightly, but he pulls his eyes away from yours and you quickly put your head back down.

“In Your Blessed Name, Amen.” He ends. “Amen”, the church responds in unison and you squeak it out as well.

The first pew stands and approaches the front of the church, choir boys retrieving the communion goods. You notice that there is a split in the line as one is given the small wafer and grape juice shot by Father Steen and the other line the new deacon.

You can’t keep your eyes off him as he offers the sacrament to each person in line. He is taking longer than Father Steen, seeming to ask questions before presenting the body and blood of a savior.

As it came to be your pew’s turn, you stood. With only a few people in front of you, you studied Miguel’s figure in short glances.

Along with being a towering figure, he was a wide one as well. Muscles filled in the long-sleeved black button down shirt. His large upper body tapered off into a slim waist, tucked neatly into dark pants. A belt accentuated the fit waist even further. Your eyes trailed quickly across the thick neck that was accessorized by the all too familiar white collar of priesthood. When you were just behind one more person, your eyes fell to the floor.

Part of you wished you would be on Father Steen’s side as you feel as though you’re about to burst from this proximity of the giant man. He was bent over speaking to an elder of the church, giving her a soft smile as she blessed him for coming to ‘our little church.’

The man in line in front of you stood to Father Steen and the woman was letting Mr. O’Hara go from a sweet embrace.

Thank God, you guessed, for the years of attending communion as your muscle memory tore your legs from their form rooted position at the altar.

You approached the tall figure and your eyes are locked on the lips of the man in front of you. You see them move, hearing nothing but the beating of your heart in your eardrums.

“I-I’m sorry. What?” You sputter the words and heat creeps into your chest and face.

A soft chuckle escapes his full lips and he smiles as he repeats, “What is your name?”

You give it to him. And he says it. The way your name sounds in his music makes you smile up at him. He holds your gaze for a moment before speaking again.

“The Body of Christ.” He extends his hand in an upward position, the white wafer between his index finger and thumb.

You bow your head slightly in reverence of the offering. As you start to pull your head up again, his pinky and ring finger catch under your chin, lifting your face the rest of the way.

You breathe out a small gasp and open your mouth. He seems to mirror the action slightly as his own mouth drops slightly open. You extend your tongue a little as he places the thin wafer onto it.

His gaze is heavy as he watches you take the offering into your mouth. Your breath hitches when he runs his thumb across your pouted bottom lip, catching some saliva with it.

“Amen.” You respond and it’s not until he pulls his hand from your face when you turn to grab a small glass of grape juice. “The Precious Blood.” You hear him say behind you as you bring the glass to your lips, relishing the sweet refreshment.

Your face is red hot as you turn to walk back to your pew, ignoring your mother’s glances as she had already been back to her seat.

The burning in your cheeks is even more fiery as it dawns on you that the whole church saw the exchange. You hope, you pray, that it was perceived as a normal moment between a new Shepard and a member of his flock.

Communion wraps up and Father Steen takes a seat behind the the new head of church as he begins his sermon. The slight pressure of his thumb on your bottom lip created a pool of heat in your belly that wouldn’t go away.

You try to pay attention to the Good Word, you really do, but your mind is other places. Definitely not holy places.

Maybe coming to church won’t be too bad after all…

[nouearth]

servicing justice: superman [1]

pairing ; kal-el / clark kent / superman x m!reader. fandom: ; dc, superman. word count ; 2144. series ; servicing justice. genre ; smut. rating ; m. warnings ; bigdick!superman. blowjob. gloryhole. handjob. mouth-fucking. oral (reader giving). sexworker!reader. note ; yeah, okay. maybe i've been watching too much of a certain video genre, ahem. but i hope you guys enjoy my first smut! it's been a WHILE since i've written one, so i know it's rusty, HAHA. looks-wise, i mostly had maws's superman in mind (because the art style is so good and so himbo), but feel free to imagine it with any superman!

it isn’t the most comfortable position to be in. you’ve been kneeling on the floor for quite some time now, waiting for your assigned client. your palms begin to sweat to a minimal but uncomfortable degree. did i fuck up already? you ask yourself as your mind clouds with questions, doubts, and even judgement regarding this new job.

“jesus, what did i get myself into…” you recall the long process it took for you to end up here. the intensive (and ridiculously long) process of reading and signing multiple forms and documents almost had you backing out of this opportunity. though looking back at it, it was understandable since it’s quite unheard of to be… a sex worker for superheroes.

for an incredible pay, your privacy will essentially be stripped away starting from today. all phone messages, calls, and social media activities will be monitored during your venture as a sex worker, and that post-graduate life was not going to pay itself. for the most part, so far everything seemed… great? being driven to work by a chauffeur, having your own personal room and health coverage provided, and most importantly… eating free lunch was not bad at all.

or maybe you’re just naïve.

all you had to do was kneel and suck a few superhumans off. as the newbie, you were told that you’ll be starting on gloryhole duty due to privacy reasons; at least until you built enough camaraderie. though, you didn’t even mind since there would certainly be less strain on your body.

you couldn’t help but snicker at the mere thought of an entire league of superheroes holding a meeting regarding this subject matter. especially since almost everyone in the world, including you, holds these superheroes in such high regard.

“meeting is adjourned until 9 am tomorrow! until then, please help yourself to some delicious food trucks from outer spac-“ your humorous imitation of a noble superhero is silenced when you hear the door opening. within your private booth, all that blocks you from meeting your approaching client is another door with a hole cut through.

your curiosity is piqued when you catch a sight of the man’s physique through the hole. plaid shirt and jeans aside, and assuming he had to underdress, he’s huge. maybe because you’re kneeling right now, or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve never been near a superhero before, but you couldn’t help but be in awe at the size of the man. your eyes complete a full body scan by the time he approaches the door and before you could say something, he does.

“sorry i was late-“ a gentle voice echoes behind the door. contrary to his soft voice, the man’s large hands work aggressively at his belt, unlooping the leather with impatience yet eagerness as he anticipates the mouth that’s been waiting for his arrival. “there was this whole thing with this cat in this tree and then this school bus got hijacked- not my best day, unfortunately.”

“i’m sorry to hear that. sounds like a stressful day, yeah?” your voice is compassionate. you felt bad for the unnamed superhero and a part of you wanted to continue the conversation further, but your job isn’t to listen to their feelings. it’s to pleasure.

“yeah…” a huge sigh of relief expels from the man’s dry throat when he pulls his pants down. frustration stains another one of your client’s sigh, clearly troubled by the restrictive fabric guarding his erection. you watch with parted lips as he couldn’t help but give himself a needy stroke through his tight briefs, fondling his balls then beelining his palm to the very plump tip of his cock. your own cock hardens at this scene, and you find yourself doing the very same. mimicking his impatient hand to tend to the sensitive pressure below, you tiptoe the fine line between frustration and pleasure as your tightening pants and briefs define what it means to be an absolute nuisance. “very stressful.”

it doesn’t take much time before you’re faceful of cock and somehow, you manage to salivate more than you did a minute ago. the man’s throbbing erection is brimmed with thick pre-cum, stress practically leaving his body with every drip. it’s a heavenly sight that’s enough to make you stick your tongue out just in time to catch the substance into your mouth, not wanting to waste a single drop. the salty taste always catches you off-guard yet at the same time, it puts you under a spell. a tantalizing spell that commands you to drag your warm tongue over and back the underside of his thick shaft, completely avoiding the plump glans to have his cock leak even more… stress.

the taste of his musk drives your palm further into your erection, palming at whatever you could as you preoccupy yourself with teasing the man. you almost felt bad for him. contrary to his build, his whimpers are… so small, so weak. you notice his hands grip over the top of the barrier, and it turns you on upon realizing how this supposed hero could become so fragile at the simple taunt of your tongue.

“please…” the superhero whimpers out, needlessly fucking the air in hopes of granting his cock some type of friction. you’re amazed, and a little proud, by how much pre-cum he’s been leaking by now, and it all goes right onto your tongue. the wet muscle follows the natural curve of his cock to meet up with the wet and plump head. his hips buckle into the barrier and feeling it shake, you keep him steady by wrapping your hand around his shaft. you’re addicted at this point. addicted to the salty taste of his pre-cum as your tongue licks and explores into the slit of his cock, while at the same time, your hand works at his large cock in slow, but steady strokes.

“oh christ-“ he breathes out, repeating the same two words under his shaky breath as you continue to pleasure him with your tongue and hand. after a few licks, you pull away to give your tongue a break. in doing so, your grip tightens around his shaft to pace your strokes quicker. when you find a moment where your wrist needs a break, you let your client catch his breath. his cock throbbing more and more with every passing second when your tongue and hand aren’t exploring him, and you bask in the sight of it. you believe you deserve a medal at this point. not for doing a great job (though, it doesn’t seem too far-fetched), but for having control. you haven’t even sucked him off yet, but you’re content on remaining just like this for a while longer. though, that wouldn’t be fair for the superhero.

before he could whimper out another plea, your warm mouth finally wraps around the head of his cock and your ears perk at the sound of his low moan almost instantly. your hand returns to its rightful position around the lower base of his penis as you cycle your tongue over the glans, satisfying your need to taste his musk once more. seconds later, your hand lets go when you push your head farther, taking in an inch more of the hero’s cock. your knees dig into the floor as you push your head more and more, stretching your mouth with his cock until you feel yourself gagging.

“fuck.” you sniffle out when you pull back. perhaps you were challenging yourself too hard. you think to yourself as you catch your breath, using the remaining moment to sloppily jerk him off with your saliva. part of you wanted to challenge yourself to deepthroat him, impress your client on the first day. but you already know you wouldn’t be able to take it… at least, for now.

“you could hurt someone with this, y’know?” for some reason, you thought you needed to crack a joke as if there was an awkward silence that needed to be filled. maybe you just wanted to hear him talk again. his voice is warm and inviting, somewhat fitting for a superhero or even a television host as the moment you hear his voice again, you felt safe.

“i have before- oh god.” you lube up his cock with your spit as you continue to jerk him off, refraining yourself from fucking his slit with your tongue again to concentrate on his words. “which is why i don’t do this much- sex and stuff… it’s all troublesome, really.”

“yeah?” and just when you talked yourself out of challenging yourself, you feel the competitive spark ignite inside of you again. “well, i guess you just have to find the right one. could be anyone, even people you just met.” you try to play it nonchalantly, hoping that double-handing his wet cock would distract him.

he was beyond speechless at this point, moans drawn out by means of your sloppy strokes. you swear you can hear his heartbeat behind the barrier when you lean your head closer to suck him off again. you moan along with him, drawing out every breath of yours as you bob your head up and down, taking more of his cock every time you come down. your hand twists and strokes the remaining few inches that isn’t violated by your tongue and mouth, following your mouth like a reel as your intent to make him cum is fervent more than ever.

it hurts. your mouth hurts by how large your client is and tears brim in your eyes as you hold yourself back from gagging. but you don’t stop yourself because you’ll know it’ll be worth it. your endeavor to please him to the fullest has you drowning out his groans into white noise and you can barely register the fact that you’ve been on paused for a while now. you find yourself in a closer position than before, where your mouth is open, lips fully pressed around the carved hole as the superhero fucks into your mouth, fucks into your gags like you’re his personal flesh light. you didn’t care how dirty you looked, how you had saliva and spittle dripping out from the corners of your mouth and onto the floor. who would see? and you didn’t care that you were too preoccupied to touch your dick right now, because you know you’ll be thinking about this very moment for the rest of your life. and right now, you didn’t know if you wanted to be covered in his cum or to have your mouth be filled with it.

remaining in this position, you glance your teary eyes up at his grip over the barrier again. the strength in his grasp forms small cracks in the material of the barrier and that was the sign you knew you fulfilled your sense of purpose.

“christ, i’m going to come-“ your eyes shut again and you breathe through your noise, bracing for impact. he pushes his cock down your throat and hits that sore spot one last time before unloading his cum into your mouth with a stifled groan. warm, hot seed quickly fills you up and you pull your head back an inch to fully enclose your lips around his cock, ensuring none escape your lips.

in a heartbeat, you swallowed it all. his warm cum coats the back of your throat like medicine and you moan around his cock at the taste, intoxicated. you made sure to lick every inch of his cock clean, calmly slurping any saliva and cum that threatens to leave your mouth as you pull back up with a soft pop, swallowing the remaining remnants of his stress away.

“t-thank you. i needed that…” he pulls his softening cock out, careful in avoiding the hole as he was still sensitive. “did you need a tissue or anything? i think i have one somewhere…” you can hear him rummage through what you can only assume would be his bag and you find it charming, a quiet laugh leaving your swollen lips as you lean back onto your elbows to take a breather and stretch your legs out.

“no, no. i’m okay. i, uh, don’t think i wasted a drop.” you proudly brag, only for him to respond with a shy chuckle. you watch him tidy himself through the hole from a leaned back view, occasionally tilting your head in various angles to see if you could catch a glimpse on who the mysterious superhero is, but the barrier remains an obstruction to your view.

“well then, i… uh… thank you for your service.” he covers up the silence with another laugh and you join in, re-adjusting his pants and belt before turning his back towards you and heading out the booth. “i’ll try not to be late next time.”

© nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!