my friend was testing perfumes out at the store and she sniffed a bottle and anounced "ngl this bitch kind of sucks" The girl at the counter suddenly looked really sad, and my friend was like "I'm sorry, I wasn't talking about you." And the girl looked up and said "No don't worry, I didn't think that, but I just crushed a ladybug with my shoe" We both took a peak over the counter. she'd stepped on a red m&m
tags: clothed grinding + afab reader (she/her pronouns) + tamsy wearing panties + denial (on tamsy's end) + no plot + down bad reader + its me, IM reader.
a weighted heat lies upon tamsy, something warm but restless. your hot breaths cup the shell of his ear as your wet sex grind against lacy blue fabric—panties tamsy meticulously handpicked from the lingerie boutique that dwells in the city, a sheer cotton threaded thin with patterned lace that swoop along his lower abdomen, light wisps of hair decorating his mound of which you’ve already weaved your fingers through as you grind down with the fervor of an untamed pet.
the slope of his balls endorses an abrupt curve in the blue cotton, his shaft twitches underneath the press of your cunt, its head poking above the hem with a warm pink, it's the only tempting sight of his sex that’s gifted to you.
your shirt has already been ridden up above your breasts, nipples hard and erect. anything they catch leaves you moaning with bated breath. your nipples have always been a sensitive part of you. pleasure boils in your core when they’re met with the attention you crave, so it didn’t take long for you to rub them against tamsy’s pierced ones, rutting in tandem with your hips.
he watches with a certain gleam in his eyes, a look that withers into disdain. the sight is scornful to him, you above him, heaving like a mangy animal helping yourself to his clothed cock adorned in pleasant lace now soaked in the juices from your sloppy cunt—dumb thing can’t even control her fluids like an animal, the similarities are jarring.
tamsy knows your pussy lips are bulging through your worn panties, dark and dampened fabric clad against you as you continue to grind without a care in the world, wheezing about how good he feels in his ear, like he doesn’t know already.
but his nipples harden as yours swirl around him, knocking the small knubs in aimless swaying motions. pre cum leaks out of his slit, translucent and sticky, it mixes in with yours. wet schlicks fill the room for a lewd symphony, crescendoing with each desperate rut.
“i can tell pride has never once accompanied you,” tamsy’s voice is low to shield the waver in his tone. he juts his hips upwards to collide with your own, and he convinces himself it isn’t for his pleasure—this doesn’t feel good to him. “because if it had, you wouldn’t look so small and pathetic humping against me.”
you mewl at his words and grind faster, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you. “i-i’m sorry, tamsy, feels good against my clit.” those are the words that you’re able to manage under his scrutiny. you’ve grown to like his harshness when he gets like this, all stubborn and obstinate; it’ll eventually build up to something rowdier and impatient, much like how you are now.
The other day my nephew described something as being "like if Slenderman was stuck in a little car" and I yelled YES!!!! bc I thought he was referencing this image I like but then I showed the picture and he was like how do you have an image for that where did you get that
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