#steel guitar strings

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

The Everly Brothers - All I Have To Do Is Dream

[whosectype]

lesson learned, don’t play guitar for 9 hours straight

there are still indentations hours later on my left fingertips from the strings they look like this

[jfk-blown-away-blog]

Finally took on the daunting task of re-stringing the old Soviet. It's always a bitch to work with, but it really needed them replaced.

[phantom-does-a-thing]

getting hit with a guitar hurts like it would be a solid weapon

[crplpunkklavier]

i finished practicing guitar and now I have a sharp pain inside my fingers when I press down on things lol

yeah that'll happen bud. the calluses will come eventually but they also disappear again REAL quick if you take a break of a few days. alas being really cool always demands a sacrifice

having played piano since i was 5 has permanently changed the anatomy of my hands too (i can spread my fingers wider than most people. freakishly so), and all the passionate drummers i knew (had crushes on) had blisters and calluses on their fingers as well. that's rocknroll baby

[end-of-pizza]

Acrylic, Plastic and Steel Prototype Gibson Ultratone 7 String

[miltonq-lapsteel8a6]

Here's some Jazz on the Oahu Diana 6 string lap steel, by Steve Cunningham. Great musician!

[sautethehorrors]

I had a make up lesson with the woman who owns the music school I go to and holy fuck she actually taught me how to put all the pieces together and start writing a song!!!

The biggest thing I learned was once I've got the chords in mind and have started like blahblahblahing a melody, to find a random book and turn to a random page and just start singing the words from the book.

I dunno how to explain what this unlocked in my fucking brain but holy hell, I feel like I opened a whole new section of my brain.

Anyway the country song is about a cowboy who lives in the eye of a constantly moving tornado in a howls moving castle type contraption. Yes I was really into steam punk as a teenager why do you ask

[classicjdog]

man playing guitar hero with the actual guitar controller is really really fun. no wonder that shit was so popular back in the day. in my childhood i played a decent amount of gh with a normal controller, but playing it on the guitar is definitely more fun, at least once i got used to it

wish i'd inherited my older brothers' talent for the game but twas not to be unfortunately, no 5 star through the fire and flames on expert for me lmfao but i'm still having a lot of fun doing fairly well for myself on hard and barely scraping by on expert

the 2 songs that i've replayed the most so far are hotel california & eruption. hotel california strikes a really nice balance between being really fun & engaging to play while still being totally doable even for someone with my shitty level of skill. like it's not some super easy song where you're just strumming away at the same chord progression over and over for 5 minutes, there's lots & lots of hammer-on/pull-off sequences, but those sequences are very much on the easier end of the spectrum. it is, at least so far, the only song that i've 5 starred on expert, it's really fun and obv it's a super good song too

eruption is also very very fun cause it's literally just a 2 minute guitar solo and it's REALLY HARD. it's so hard that i really shouldn't be able to do it, like it's the final song in the van halen career mode which means the game places it on that same tier of final boss-type songs as like through the fire and flames & jordan & the like, but since it's so short it's actually just barely doable for me. at least on hard, i haven't even tried it on expert lol. it's also the only song where i've successfully done that both-hands-on-the-fretboard thing that i saw my brothers do back in the day. any time it could potentially be useful i'm usually too overwhelmed by the number of notes to even think to attempt it, but i'm pretty sure eruption is specifically designed for you to have both hands up on the neck of the guitar since that's literally what eddie van halen did whenever he played the song irl, which i do think is a really nice touch

[juniesfairies]

Not to do another low hanging fruit observational tumblr post but lately I’ve been thinking about how I’m part of the population who’s missing teeth. And I weirdly get reminded of this whenever I hear other folk guitarists using their long fingernails to pick the tuned down strings with such warmth and sharpness, almost like their biting the strings. I can almost taste the metal, feel my teeth vibrate, my tongue touch the cold, but always where my missing teeth are. I hope the spirit of the teeth that were never able to grow into my mouth safely find purchase in the fingertips on my right hand, into my PIMA, into their own guitar pics. I want to devour and consume my own sounds.

[rodgerdelany]

When I was told that I would have the opportunity to perform at the Texas State Songwriters Championship, I reached out to a handful of friends for song recommendations. Every recommendation was unique. That is, no two songs were the same.

Like every other performer, I wanted to win. I kicked around a number of strategies including hiring a singer and/or leveraging the band to provide a powerful performance. But, I wanted to make a good impression representing who I am as a writer and as a performer. In the end, I decided to keep it simple – an old acoustic guitar performing “Ray of Hope” as powerful possible in order to setup the intimacy of “Alright to Love (Christmas Again).” Despite not feeling 100%, the judges awarded me a prize for “Most Original Style.”

I am glad that I chose these two songs. “Ray of Hope” has been a highlight of the band’s performance for years. And, it is likely to be the title track for my new CD. I look forward to sharing the story and a studio recording of “Ray of Hope” in 2024.

“Alright to Love” is possibly the best song that I’ve written. A competition during the Christmas season presented the perfect opportunity to perform the song and share the story. “Alright to Love (Christmas Again)” is based on a true story. The song captures two beautiful moments early in my relationship with Kim. The chorus was inspired by our first visit to the former Pierre du Pont residence at Longwood Gardens. As we walked out onto the beautifully grounds, I held Kim’s hand and said, “It’s alright to love Christmas.” The line, “she dressed as Santa and danced by the fire,” is from our first Christmas together.

I am including a link in the comments to the version of “Alright to Love (Christmas Again)” that was recorded in at Philly Sound Studios by Rich King and included Mark Rogers’ WSTW holiday compilation (see photo).

Thanks again for all of the encouragement and support both with music and through many challenging times in my life. As I’ve shared previously, it is increasingly difficult to remember when I was miserable. I am blessed to share life’s adventures with the love of my life.

I hope you have a very Merry Christmas and a great new year!!

[abandoned-as-mustard]

Fun habits ukulele playing gives you: automatically strumming a guitar over the fretboard like. Discovering eerie harmonics.

[hypnagogics]

have the teensiest blurb ever i wrote as a writing warm-up ♡ fluffy nonsense! i know we're all in an arcane mood, but i can't forget about my girl. (i promise real writing is coming LMAOO im workin on it)

a cozy night in with ellie williams is more healing than the most researched of therapies. full of love, care, fun, relaxation, they were your favorite nights of the week.

at the end of a long, hard week, ellie knows just what you need. she starts of by preparing you a soulful dinner in advance before you get back—a warm and hearty stew. she sets the table, lights a handful of candles, and makes the atmosphere soothing.

when she hears you trudge inside with a groan of exhaustion, she's by your side within milliseconds, removing your coat and taking your heavy bag off your shoulders, finishing off with a heart-to-heart embrace and a kiss on your forehead.

she's intuitive enough to register your energy levels too, without you having to tell her how you're feeling. the smallest markers on your face set off alarms in her head, and she knows that today is a quiet kind of day. she lowers her tone of voice to a whisper, does not inquire excessively about your day, but just leads you to the dining room where you're greeted by the steaming bowl and elegantly set table.

when you sit down you beam at her, internally pinching yourself at her generosity and wondering what you could have done to deserve her, she was sweeter than honey, truly. your smile is infectious, and her familiar toothy grin plays upon her delicate features. she keeps you company while you both have your meal, then she follows you to the living room, already calculating what she can do for you next.

you slump into the silken cushions of the couch, your voice crackling, “els, could you play something for me?”

you nod at the guitar in the corner of the room, covered in wear and tear but housing a sound that felt like home.

she grabs it and plops down next to you, clearing her throat.

slender fingers creating magic on the steel strings, downy voice caressing your ears, you were enveloped in a momentary calmness.

her husky voice, and the lyrics and melody of a-ha's take on me never fail to woo you, she plays it perfectly. you curl up with a blanket, and close your eyes to intensify the experience.

now in darkness, her music caused shapes and colors to form in your minds eye, you could even hear her love-filled smile.

a lullaby in your favorite place, with your favorite person playing it just for you, you were at ease. your heart felt as if it was about to burst with adoration for the girl on the couch next to you, and you were lulled into a restful state, her music painting a mural in your shallow dreams.

rest up, you deserve it.

taglist: @andersonfilms @ch6douin @aouiaa @sapphic-ovaries @astro-cat2 @paqerings @littlefallenangel111 @srooch @sinfulprayerss @lvlymicha @sunnsh1ne @pinkcwake @marsworlddd @caszzine @saturnsdrafts @mascdom @ashaynep @angelynn-nicole @wilddrown @aylabv02108 @lonelyfooryouonly @melsmunch @e11williamsgf @flowrmoth @liddysflyer @fortune777 @brunaedn @funclebunni @infiniteinquiries @mimasroom2 @thekill3randthefinalgirl @kissyslut @autisticintr0vert @mellifluousgirll @uhhscarr @sozvuchiy @kaykeryyy @zzombiegirl @jbimsorry @dearangxl @spncrrdlvr @thatgyalfisher

[mixsethaddams]

Eddie forgets it’s Valentine’s Day until the literal moment he pulls into the parking lot outside of Steve’s job to pick him up after his shift. The big banner in the window offering their February 14th special offers nearly sent him into cardiac arrest.

It was too late now to flip it into reverse and speed to the nearest garage and buy the first box of candy he could find; Steve had spotted him through the window and was already waving at him. Eddie usually arrived a few minutes early but he got caught up staring through the window at the music store downtown. There was an acoustic guitar he was saving up for on display. It would take him almost a year to get there on his current budget, but he was determined. Now that Eddie thought about it, there was definitely some pink ribbon hanging in that window today. He cursed himself again, realising he must’ve seen a million other literal red flags throughout the day that he’d ignored.

“Think, Munson, think….” Eddie grumbled to himself, wringing his hands around the steering wheel with white knuckles.

Steve was walking towards the van now, and the small red gift bag in his hand killed any hope Eddie might have had that he’d forgotten too.

“Happy Valentine’s, Eds,” said Steve brightly as he hopped into the passenger seat, handing over the bag.

Eddie looked into it and found an assortment of a few of his favourite things. A heavy metal magazine, red twizzlers, a pack of smokes, even some new guitar strings. Ah shit, this was perfect. Eddie felt like hell.

“You don’t have the right guitar for those yet though,” Steve pointed out and sure enough, on closer inspection they were nylon acoustic strings and not the steel kind Eddie used for his electric guitar.

“That’s ok it’s not- Wait, yet?” asked Eddie.

Steve looked giddy as he handed over a piece of paper. It was a receipt of sale and Eddie gawped at it in silence for almost a full five minutes. Steve bought him the guitar he’s been staring at in the window. The note on the bottom said he could pick it up tomorrow.

“This is for-”

“Sure is”

“-that I’ve wanted for months-”

“Sure have”

“-is this for real?”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“Yes Eddie it’s for real,” said Steve with a sigh. “You’ve been talking about that thing in your sleep, figured this might make you shut up about it,”

“I will never shut up about this,” said Eddie, still staring at the receipt.

Another moment passed and Steve very politely and gently cleared his throat. Eddie snapped back to reality. Steve’s eyes went wide as Eddie kicked into action. He pulled his jacket off his shoulders and threw it at him. He reached down and tugged his shoes off, threw them at Steve too. All the rings on his hands came next, then his belt, and the keys for the van hit Steve squarely in the chest with a light thud.

“Take it,” he mumbled, adding his socks to the growing pile on Steve’s lap. “All of it,”

Steve let out a confused laugh.

“Eddie what the hell are you doing?” he asked, incredulous.

“You can have the trailer too,” said Eddie, fishing candy wrappers from his pockets and deciding if they were Steve worthy. “Wayne will understand,”

Steve laughed properly now.

“What are you talking about, baby?”

“This!” shrieked Eddie, now halfway out of his t-shirt, waving around the receipt for the guitar. “I can’t compete with this! I can’t give you anything like this, so just-” Eddie’s voice got muffled as his shirt got stuck over his head. “-take everything,”

He flung the piece of clothing and Steve’s head and started to unzip his jeans.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” said Steve, shaking with laughter now as he grabbed Eddie’s wrist. “Put your clothes back on, this isn’t a competition,”

“You’re only saying that because you won,” said Eddie with narrowed eyes.

Steve began to hand Eddie back all the things that had been hurled at him over the last frantic few minutes.

“I don’t need anything from you,” said Steve softly. “Especially not week-old candy wrappers,”

Eddie snatched back his socks.

“I don’t….” He said, embarrassed. “I don’t have anything though…”

Steve chuckled.

“So you can buy me dinner instead,” he told Eddie, reaching over to squeeze his thigh. “Now hurry up and take the rest of your shit back so you can bring me home,”

Eddie nodded solemnly and took each item back as it was given to him. He slipped his t shirt back over his head and when he looked at Steve for the last of his rings, he was holding Eddie’s favourite skull ring between his fingers. It was the only one that was big enough to fit Steve. A plan formed quickly, so organically that Eddie was shocked it hadn’t occurred to him before right now. It…was perfect honestly. It wasn’t like he’d never thought about it before, it just never felt like a good time and… Oh yeah, this was definitely the excuse he needed to just do it

“How ‘bout you keep that one, at least?” suggested Eddie. “Make me feel like I’m not a total failure today,”

“You’re not a failure,” said Steve, rolling his eyes again. “But fine, yes, I’m keeping this one,”

Eddie smiled and held out his hand to take one of Steve’s.

“Well then allow me,” he said, taking the ring. Steve offered up his right hand, and Eddie promptly swatted it away. “Other one,”

Steve’s eyebrow raised higher as he hesitantly gave Eddie his left hand.

“Seriously?” asked Steve, suspicious and amused.

“Unless you’d prefer the right hand?”

“No, no, left works,” said Steve quickly, taking his hand back to wipe off any sweat onto his jeans.

Steve shook out his hand and quickly smoothed down his hair. He plucked a stray starburst wrapper from his shoulder and flicked it to the ground. He settled himself comfortably facing Eddie and placed his left hand in Eddie’s waiting palm.

Eddie slotted the ring onto Steve’s third finger and gave it a little pat once it rested snugly against his knuckle, before bringing it up to his mouth and kissing it. A tiny squeak escaped Steve’s mouth.

“How’s that?” asked Eddie with a smile.

“Just what I wanted,” said Steve, looking like he was on cloud nine, and leaning over to kiss him.

[taelophone]

Strings° . ° .

Guitar Player Joost Klein x Reader TWs: Penetration, Oral (r receiving), Joost is kinda a bully, overstimulation, sliiiiight hand kink it’s barely there, RPF!! W/C: 2684 A/N: First time writing smut, idk if I liked doing it😭 I feel a little bit embarrassed? Or maybe it’s shame, i am NOT sure but ill still probably write it for you guys

“So when you go to play, you put your fingers on the fretboard…and these strings. Like this.”

For the last 50 minutes or so, Joost had been trying to teach you the guitar basics. You sat together on your shared bed, with your legs crossed around one another as he explained a guitar's different parts and components, making sure you knew what he was referring to when he said certain pieces of info.

You watched his fingers closely, admiring the way they bent and pressed on each string. His blue-green tattooed knuckles caught your attention more than the lesson ever could, reading the same numbers you had seen every single day.

“Like…this?” You murmured, copying his hand placement on your brand new electric.

“Yeah, like that.” He nodded, strumming his fingers along the steel wire, creating a light and lively sound from the strings. “That’s an A chord.”

You nodded, holding your pick a little awkwardly before plucking the same chord, being a little bit more gentle with your strings. “Like that?” You asked, glancing up at him for approval.

“Very good, that was great schatje.” He beamed,  giving you a quiet round of applause. “Alright, now let me show you uhh…D chord. Yes.” He nodded, immediately diving into an explanation of the chord.

Unfortunately for Joost, his voice fell on very deaf ears.

All you were focusing on was his face. The pretty mole at the bottom of his lip seemed to speak right over his voice. It commanded your attention like some sort of ray of light, begging you to stagger towards it like a moth to the moon.

And then his hair, oh dear god don’t even get me started. It sat so perfectly on his head, his bangs messily clipped away with one of your pink flower clips. He had long since dropped his attention back to his star-shaped guitar, trying to demonstrate where to put your fingers.

But all you could think about was where he could put his fingers.

“You’re not watching.” He murmured, catching on to how spaced out you were.

It didn’t take him long to glance at you, tilting his head in faux curiosity. He left out a soft chuckle that almost sounded like a scoff, giving you the faintest smirk ever.

“You’re not watching.” He repeated, gripping your jaw firmly and lowering your gaze so it stared at the guitar stationed in his lap.

“Sorry sorry sorry, what were you saying?”  You murmured, feeling the apples of your cheeks grow flush with fever.

“Put your fingers here,” he murmured, waiting for you to mirror his hands with a smug smile.

You nodded, copying his hands and then nodding.

“And then you skip these two…and strum from the third.” He nodded, running his finger along the strings.

You nodded again, this time a little slower as your brows furrowed in concentration. You copied exactly what he did, but for some reason, your chord sounded unstable; almost like it was vibrating against the wood of the fretboard.

“Ah. That’ll happen.” He nodded. “Push down harder with your ring finger.” He muttered, poking your knuckle playfully.

“Mhm…” you hummed, pushing down a little more but still yielding the same sound.

You frowned, rolling your eyes before taking a deep sigh. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong!” You huffed, immediately sensing yourself losing motivation little by little.

“Don’t stress about it, schatje. Guitar is…not easy.” He giggled, immediately remembering all the many times he had been so desperate to break his guitar and never return.

“You just have to learn what works best…C’mere.” He murmured, setting his guitar on the floor and reaching over to you, lifting you up from under your shoulders.

“Oh. Okay.” You snickered, letting him place you in his lap.

“Alright, so,” he began, propping your guitar back up in your lap, and placing his hands over yours.

His hands were soft, but the pads of his fingers were rough and calloused due to years of practice.  The very definition of rough around the edges, and every second you spent with him felt like heaven.

“Alright, back to D chord, ja?” He smiled, resting his chin on top of your head. He placed your fingers in the appropriate place, keeping his firmly on yours.

“Your ring finger. It’s not pressing hard enough.” He rasped, pressing your smaller digit on top of the wire. Not enough to hurt, but enough to hold it still.

“If you can’t keep it still, it‘s gonna move.” He reminded. “That’s what’s making that weird noise.”

“But that’s uncomfortable…do I have to press that hard?” You asked, furrowing your brows in slight annoyance. 

“Guitar is uncomfortable.” He smiled. “So yeah, you do.”

“I’m about to drop this guitar, I swear to god.” You huffed, strumming the chord again, noticing how much better it immediately sounded. 

“See? Much better.” Joost smiled, patting the side of your leg. “Just when you were about to quit. Look, you’re getting better.”

You had to admit, you almost laughed at how quickly you had calmed down when you heard the correct note and not that nonsense you played earlier.

“Alright, we’re gonna do it over again.” Joost giggled, releasing your hands but keeping you in his lap. He leaned back slightly, propping himself up on the palms of his hands.

“Start from E. I’ll help you if you mess up.” He smiled.

“Wait…E was this one?” You murmured, placing your pointer on the 4th string, middle on the third, and ring on the second.

You glided your pick across the strings, nodding when you yielded a bright and fun-sounding strum. 

“Good job!” Joost smiled, giving you another quiet applause. “It’s not so hard, see?” He murmured, wrapping his arms around your midriff.

“You literally just said it was hard earlier?” You chuckled, rolling your eyes.

“I lied.” He giggled. “Guitar isn’t really hard, but I am.”

“Oh wow.” You giggled, maneuvering your hands around the guitar to pluck different chords experimentally.

“Now do C7.” He giggled.

“No, I hate you, and I hate C7.” You groaned, rolling your eyes. 

It wasn’t really a hard chord, considering he was still showing you the basics, but it was annoying. Your fingers didn’t like positioning themselves so awkwardly.

“C’mon, you can do it. Learning is a process.” He assured, resting his chin on your shoulder instead so he could monitor your hands.

You sighed, fighting the urge to throw the guitar and play the little game of finger crochet you had been playing for almost an hour now.

“Nope…this finger goes here,” he corrected, immediately moving your hand. “Try again liefje.”

“Nope. I quit.” You huffed, letting go of the guitar completely.

“No, don’t do that.” He laughed, raising his eyebrows with slight shock. “Giving up isn’t good, you’ll never learn. Just try again.” He urged, fiddling with the bottom of your shirt.

“Maybe I’m overreacting…” you sighed, picking up the guitar and assuming the proper position again.

You played the chord over and over again, pressing and tweaking with the wires repeatedly to try and get it right but it was impossible to focus.

“Joost, move your hands, I can’t play like this.” You giggled, rolling your eyes.

“What? I’m not doing anything.” He teased, gently squishing and prodding at the fat of your breasts. “You can play just fine, I’m not blocking your hands.”

“I’m not blocking your hands!!” You mirrored in an exaggerated high-pitched voice, intending to mock him but giggling through your words.

“You can play just fine, look!” He protested with a wide grin before pinching your nipple between his fingers gently, earning him a small whine.

“Close enough, sounds like B major.” He giggled, sticking his tongue out impishly.

“Y’so mean, feeling on me while I’m trying to…learn guitar..” you muttered, still trying to pluck your notes as he attacked your neck and chest.

Your breathing grew labored, and your focus flew out the window. You had always admired Joost’s hands, but there was nothing better in the world than to have them on you.

“Can I take this off?” He asked, lifting the bottom of your shirt slightly.

What a blessing.

“Yes.” You said, a little quicker than you would have liked to admit. But shame is just a social construct.

“Thank you,” he purred, lifting your shirt up in the same breath.

Joost’s hands squished and prodded your delicate and sensitive skin, being as gentle as possible as if you were the softest of angels.

“You poor thing…can’t even concentrate on playing…” he cooed, grinning evilly as your guitar slid out of your lap and onto the floor below with a sharp thud. “I’ll help you, don’t worry.”

His small, patronizing tone and soft smile would have been annoying if it was anybody else, but it was hard for it to be anything but attractive when both of your heartbeats drowned out the afterthought of shame.

“You’re beautiful” he murmured, sucking purple and blue hickeys on your neck, holding your head still by placing his hand firmly on your jaw.

“Lay down, baby. Let me help you” he urged, slowly lifting you from off of his lap and setting you down on your sheets.

Joost was a gentle man, no doubt about it. No, probably not a gentleman, but a gentle man. He took his time with you, running his hands up and down the plush of your thighs.

“I love you” he reminded, pulling down the waistband of your sweatpants.

He leaned down, trailing kisses from your sternum to your lower stomach. He was so slow; his pace was killing you with how feather-light and leisurely it was.

“Joost, c’mon, please..” you whined, reaching your hand down to tangle your hand in his hair.

“Be patient…” he smiled, leaning his cheek against your inner thigh. “Good things come to those who wait.”

He kissed the soft skin of your womb before flattening his warm tongue against the fabric of your panties, relishing in the way you twitched at the contact.

“Don’t run,” he chuckled, holding you by your thighs.

“I’m not running…” you snickered, rolling your eyes at him as you ruffled his hair a bit.

“Not now,” he smiled, pulling your simplistic panties down with his canines. “But you probably will.”

And without any warning or signal whatsoever, Joost latched onto your cunt, lapping and sucking your poor and achy clit.

The sounds were filthy; wet and slick slurps mingling with your pants and moans. You tugged at his hair, making any sort of effort you could to ground yourself.

“I know, I knowww.” He hummed, sending vibrations straight to your sensitive core as he held your free hand.

He was so persistent, his head not disappearing from between your thighs even once. He tugged you closer to him, wincing a little as you kept a vice grip on his hair.

He peers up at you, his two-toned brows furrowed slightly as his eyes gaze into yours with heavy lust and admiration. 

His tongue feels delicious against your weeping folds, his other hand leaving your thigh to bully your sensitive bud.

The room around you was fading to white; your senses became overcrowded with the many factors screaming in the room.

The sinful sounds of Joost eating you alive like he was a starved man, your tiny tears that pricked your waterline, the whines of Joost’s name filling the little amount of empty space left between you and the 4 walls of your room, all of it.

“Joost—! Please, 'm gonna-“

“I know.” He murmured, giggling into your cunt as he pried your entrance open with his two fingers, which was more than easy due to how wet and pent-up you were.

Your breath caught in the back of your throat and the world faded into a blank slate of white, a loud and abrupt whine ripping through your vocal cords. But that didn’t stop your boyfriend, no! Never.

Even after your orgasm had crashed against you like a tidal wave, Joost didn’t even slow down. Not one bit.

He continued to suck and tease your now overstimulated clit, giggling subtly at your little cries of pleasure.

“You can take it, I’m not done” He mumbled against your entrance. 

He was so hard it hurt; at some point, he was beginning to wonder if he was just eating you to try and alleviate the ache in his boxers. But it didn’t matter, you tasted too good for him to even think about prying his mouth away from you.

“Mmh, je smaakt lekker” He hummed, working his fingers in and out of you, abusing the spongy spot against your walls that had you crying for more.

He knew your body like he knew his guitar; what keys to press, where his hands should go, and how to keep himself from breaking anything that shouldn’t be broken. 

“Joost—! Can’t…Can’t, ‘s too much!” You stammered, laying your hand flat on his head as you tried to push him away.

“It’s too much!” He mocked, coaxing you into one more orgasm on his tongue before giggling and kissing your trembling thighs.

“Het spijt me, vergeef me alsjeblieft.” He smiled, pulling your pink flower clip off his head so he could take himself seriously before pulling down his sweatpants.

“You wanna hold my hand?” He offered, letting you weakly find purchase in his larger palm.

Everything about Joost was big, which is funny enough considering his name meant small. His hands, his legs, his height.

And that large size carried through EVERYWHERE, making sex a tight squeeze.

He slid his boxers down, just enough to let his light blush-pink tip spring free, angry and neglected as pearls of clear dribbled down onto the sheets.

“You okay?” He asked, swiping his length across your shiny and sensitive folds. “I won’t do anything until you’re ready…”

You nodded, lacing his fingers gently between yours. “Yeah, you can, it’s ok” you nodded, smiling at him softly.

Joost nodded, lining himself up with your entrance.

He squeezed your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles as he pushed into you, whining quietly as he buried himself in your welcoming warmth.

You don’t even recognize your sounds as your lips part to make way for broken and breathy moans. 

He gave you slow but deep thrusts, not wanting to accidentally hurt you. His right hand found purchase under your hip, holding you steady as his hips met yours again and again.

“Just like that…there you go.” Joost huffed, picking up the pace with his hips.

His dick bullied its way through your entrance, intimidating and prodding that spongy spot up against your walls over and over again.

Breathy moans and low groans fell from you and Joost’s lips. His fingers holding your hip pressed into your skin were sure to leave little bruises in the shape of the pads of his fingers.

“I love you…” He rasped, staring down at where you connected.

It was a sinful sight; a murky white ring around his glistening dick. He smiled, biting down on his lip before leaning down to kiss you.

You were so close— just teetering on the edge as your tongue danced with Joost’s. He swallowed your moans like they were liquor, throwing back shots that burned down and kept him giddy and satisfied.

“Almost there, baby…” he murmured, letting go of your sore and barely-bruised thigh to rub small and tight circles on your clit.

Oh, it was so over for you.

With one loud screech of Joost’s name, he clasped his hand over your mouth to save you a noise complaint as you painted him white with your release.

Joost let out a heavy, guttural moan as he shot hearty splurges of white right through your womb before collapsing on top of you, panting right next to your ear.

“You’re so pretty, I love you so much.” He slurred, kissing your cheek.

“I love you, too.”

Your guitar lay forgotten on the floor, counting the beats of silence per minute as the pair of you drifted off to sleep.

[risuola]

▶ EARLY MORNINGS AND STOLEN CUPS — nothing better than the first cup of coffee in the morning.

contents: college+roommates!au, smoking implied (like once), teeth rotting fluff — wc. 572

a/n: i can't tell you guys how much i love fluffs with this trio. i like how the dynamics are building and i think you guys enjoy it too (i hope so!) — anyway, very short entry but love medley is all about those after all!

𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝘿𝙇𝙀𝙔 | series masterlist

Satoru doesn’t drink coffee.

Most days in your little apartment began with the low, monotone whooshing of coffee machine. Harsh rumble of beans being grinded accompany you and Gojo in the bathroom and while you both push through brushing teeth and mandatory eyedrops, Suguru usually was already in the kitchen, brewing the god’s nectar.

You joined the brunette, tempted by the gurgling bubbles and divine aroma mingling with the fresh air and a ghost of herbal, woody scent of whatever Geto was smoking just moments ago. He greeted you with a smile, playing with the rim of an empty cup — his fingers followed the curved ceramic edge and you knew he was as impatient as you were, as eager to dip his mouth into the brown wake-up liquid and feel the first dose of caffeine fill in his system.

And so, he pulled the jug from underneath the working mechanism, hot drops of coffee sizzled as they met the steel drip tray, but the cup was soon filled and before you knew it, Suguru let out a deep sigh of ecstatic relief. First few sips were his — black and bitter — and he made place in the cup for your milk.

You took out some plates — an act of pretending, a distraction for yourself to not eye the precious coffee like an animal would eye its prey.

Then, he gave it to you and your grabby hands enveloped the cup as he reached into the fridge for the carton of milk. As he poured it in, you inhaled the addicting aroma, watching how the dark, nearly black liquid turned into more luscious, creamier nectar in a light brown color and you too sighed deeply when dipping your lips into it.

You felt the heat spreading across your system and you disconnected for a moment, allowing yourself to feel it, to enjoy it while Suguru engaged in the talk with Satoru. The chattering that for a moment turned into background to your experience, soon pulled you in and before you knew it, you were talking too — a routine of babbling before the day fully starts, one that you enjoyed equally as much as late evenings.

A pair of arms wrapped around you and quiet hum filled in your ears. Satoru’s light, fluffy hair tickled the side of your neck as he hid his face in the crook of your shoulder — a habit of him, whenever he was still too sleepy to function properly. You put down the cup and reached up to run your fingers through the snowy locks, earning yourself a low purr that vibrated through the bone of your shoulder.

Engulfed in the story about new guitar strings and stolen picks, you absorbed the passion in Suguru’s voice and didn’t realize a sequence of mischief that was happening right under your nose.

And then, Satoru was leaving towards the living room, a cup half-full of your coffee in his hand as he sing-sang something about nail polish and sunglasses. You looked after him and then at the counter, where a bottle of sugary syrup in the flavor of caramel stood proudly — evidence of severe addiction and theft.

You let out a chuckle and Suguru echoed, reaching up the cabinet for another mug. He continued his story as the coffee machine brewed the dark beverage so that both you and him can enjoy it fully.

Yes, Satoru doesn’t drink coffee.

Unless it’s yours.

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