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#~vibes~
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But what if we fucked the transformers and were also transformers🥺
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merihn · 2 years
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For the first kiss prompts, "I'm not sure how to..." "Just follow my lead." and Rulie?
Their breathing is loud in the small room. 
It's dark, the air still reverberating with the slammed door, and the musty smell of abandoned objects.
Julie reaches up and flails her hand until she finds the old fashioned chain and with a click a faded golden glow washes over them.
It's dim, the bulb as dusty as the rest of the room. 
She shuffles awkwardly, trying not to kick anything in the limited clear area. She doesn't want to look up, her heart in her throat. Is it just her imagination or is her heart beating loud enough to fill the silence? Her breath sounds ragged even to her own ears.
But there's only so long she can avoid acknowledging the situation. It's ridiculous. It's just a game.
She swallows, and her throat clicks.
"So…" she begins, ready to crack a joke. It's just Reggie, for goodness' sake. Her fingers shake, so she stuffs them in the front pockets of her jeans, where they're squeezed by the fitted fabric.
She finally looks up and freezes. His bright eyes are wide, jaw tight enough to snap. The tendons in his neck stand out, taut.
"Reg? Are you okay?"
He swallows, and she watches his Adam's apple bob. His lips are pale. Pressed thin.
She reaches out, drops her hand when he flinches.
"Is it—are you—" she closes her eyes for a moment and breathes. His tension fills the air like gas, creeping into her mouth and nose, filling her lungs. "Is it the small space?"
He shakes his head, a tight jerk that dislodges a curl of hair to lay carelessly across his forehead.
She feels like a stranger, like she doesn't know this person standing in front of her, his fists balled tight. Her mind is oddly blank, as if their history doesn't exist; she doesn't know how to fix this.
Reggie looks away, and the dim light falls on his hair, coloring strands bronze and gold, deepening the shadows beneath. It drips down his forehead, the slope of his nose, coasts over the arch of his cheekbone. Pools in the dip of his clavicle.
"I'm not sure how to..." 
Oh.
She wants to tell him that they don't have to do anything. It's just them. It's just a stupid game. Her voice doesn't make it past her throat.
She wants to be the one to reassure him.
But it's not as if she has that much experience. Bad, fumbling kisses with people who are just as nervous as she is, or too enthusiastic. 
"Just follow my lead." 
Her voice, when it comes, is so much more confident than she feels. But she can do this. She can do this right.
She steps towards him, slow. He tenses again—more—his shoulders a fraction higher than a moment ago, his jaw almost creaking under the pressure. 
She reaches out, again, but doesn't let his aborted retreat stop her. Slides a gentle hand from his shoulder to his wrist; a pause to feel his pulse fluttering hummingbird-fast against her fingertips. Works her fingers between his until they ease, just a little.
His grip is so tight her fingers begin to lose feeling.
She steps closer anyway, lets the fingers of her free hand dance along the line of his jaw until he releases a breath.
"Let me," she murmurs, just for them. His eyes meet hers, and they're still so wide, painfully bright, painfully green in the low light. Illuminated from within.
She doesn't give him time to answer; doesn't give herself time to second guess her actions. She slips her fingers onto the soft skin beneath his ear, jutting bone nestled perfectly in her palm, and brings their mouths together.
It's nothing, at first. A bare press of their lips. It's so quiet that the rasp of his chapped lips against hers is perfectly audible. He doesn't move, barely breathes.
Her fingers curl slightly, drag against that hidden tract of unseen skin under his earlobe, and his breath rushes out of him in a huff, warm and sweet against her lips.
She's pulling him closer before her brain can catch up. His fingers free hers, allowing her to wrap her arm around him, her suddenly tingling fingers fitting perfectly in the dip of his lower back.
She shivers when his hands hesitantly cup her hips, more heat than pressure.
As if it's the hundredth time they've done this, rather than the first, they tilt their heads, their mouths meeting perfectly.
It's so utterly outside of her previous experiences that she nearly pulls away, a question worrying at the back of her mind. Was he really…?
Then he presses forward just a little too fast, a little too hard, his fingers too tight on her hips. Their lips mash together between their teeth, his nose flattened uncomfortably against hers and it melts away.
She tilts his head to a better position with the slightest pressure to the base of his skull, and takes his plump lower lip between hers. She can taste the chemical sweetness of the soda he'd been mainlining all night.
He holds himself still, mouth soft; lets her kiss him gently, sweetly. His only action is the slightest clench and release of his fingers on her hips, the involuntary rise and fall of his chest adding another quiet sound to the silence of the room as their clothes rub together with the small movement.
She should keep it this soft, this slow, but she's seized by an unavoidable need. Her fingers tangle in his hair, holding him tight, her mouth coaxing his to open. Their tongues meet in a shiver of delight that reverberates between them.
She loses herself in Reggie's mouth, in the tentative way his lips move, his tongue shyly curling around hers.
A sudden pounding startles them apart, and Reggie kicks something that rolls with a metallic clang. His chest is heaving, slick red lips parted with his panting breaths.
"Times up!"
They stare at each other, and Julie's mind whirrs uselessly, unable to formulate words.
"Are you decent?" another voice asks slyly. Several voices giggle and whisper.
Reggie clearly his throat, runs his hands down his chest and stomach, tugs at his shirt. He strides to the door and flings it open.
"Yes, yes, very funny," he says, shoving his hair back from his face. The air from the larger room outside seems too cold on Julie's skin, and she wraps her arms around herself, fingers pinching at the sensitive skin of her upper arms.
She wants to shut the door behind him, turn off the light, sit in the dark until she feels normal again.
Reggie doesn't look back.
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princewished · 2 years
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ya girl is having a great time folks i have gone in a hot tub and had some weed and now im lying in bed and I am so vibing
my lil wrist got all wrappied too hell yeah
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llavender-llama · 1 year
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doccywhomst · 3 months
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hobgobknowsbest · 4 months
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1000fingers · 1 month
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Bitches will find a fictional man attractive and then immediately imagine him in situations where he is losing alarming amounts of blood
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hiimcerys-blog · 4 months
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doctordisaster · 9 months
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I have had it with this likescolding. “Tumblr doesn’t have an algorithm so likes don’t actually do anything” motherfucker I am not clicking that heart to give some post better ~algorithmic visibility~ I am clicking that heart to help my internet friend microdose on serotonin as god fucking intended
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kysober-blog · 3 months
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bebs-art-gallery · 6 months
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The Knight of the Flowers (1894)
— by Georges Rochegrosse
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shojoboy · 2 months
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dropout tv is like . what if there was an animal shelter but it was for 30 yr olds with BAs in Theater
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fxreflyes · 18 days
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“tumblr mutual” beloved friend I would pick up at the airport if y’all visited my home city
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celesse · 6 months
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Heading into fall like 🍂✨🐈‍⬛✨🍂
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parlaypeach · 11 months
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Hmmm i disagree with you but i could not possibly wade through the cranberry bog of my mind to verbalize why
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hobgobknowsbest · 29 days
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