“i ain't never been so complimented in all my days!! HA ha!! well now... wasn't that just oodles of sweetness, folks.. i am blushing all over my screen! oh, starshine, you've gone and made the host speechless and that is NOT easy to do, let me tell you!”

Tenna, who gets so worked up during foreplay that he is crying by the time you finally let him fuck you. his massive need to be wanted and needed by you hits him like a wave the second his thick tip notches against your entrance, so he shatters before he's even inside. it's too much, you don't even know what you're doing to him, his sweetest obsession, the one he's been pining after for so long.

“’m not going to last at all... oh, my superstar, thankyouthankyou, you're too good to me, letting me have this. being so sweet to me, taking this all.”

just as you let Tenna press in, tears flood down his screen immediately, his lip trembling as he sobs through the first stretch. he buries himself deeper into your tight heat, the one he's fucked his own fist to the thought of for ages, praying you won't think less of him for breaking down the second he finally gets what he's been whimpering into his pillow about for months. immediately proving he can't handle it.

“i'm sorry, i'm so sorry, can't stop the tears, you just feel so... can't even keep it together long enough to please you proper... oh, sweet thing, you make me stupid.” he's babbling so much you can't even tell whose sounds are whose.

he's trying so hard not to cum in the first ten seconds that he's barely moving at all, just feeding you tiny desperate thrusts, and somehow that makes the tears spill even faster. he's just so in love with you and so horribly needy, finally getting to stuff his star full after all those nights of humping his pillow and pretending it was you. Tenna presses his screen into your neck and keeps thrusting messily, sobbing at how good you feel squeezing his cock. you kissing away the tears on his screen only makes him cry harder. how is it that his starshine just feeds the deepest, most desperate part of him, the part that just wants to be loved and desired, kept? and during lovemaking, no less. the most vulnerable moment possible.

you spoil him, truly.

“right there? that the spot, darling? oh y-yeah, yeah, i feel... tell me, tell me where you need me, i'll give it to you, i'll give you anything. i wanna be so useful to you, fuck you real good, that's all i want, just let me be good for you...“

he's on the edge of pure pleasure now, almost ecstasy, you're so warm and tight that the thought of ever having to pull out honestly terrifies him. Tenna didn't know pleasure could be so big it borders on panic, didn't know he could feel this much, and now he's got nowhere to put it all except deeper into you.

Tenna trying to be polite and contain himself but eventually he’s just too pent up and he dry humps you in his office until you’re seeing stars, whimpering and apologizing and begging even as his hips thrust uncontrollably into yours. Giving you tiny head kisses when he comes in his own pants and carrying you to bed where he keeps apologizing and tucking you in so gently.

This isn’t a prompt I just thought someone should let you know.

your timing is insane bc my only two moods lately have been unbearably horny and catastrophically suicidal so MAMMA MIA THIS HIT!

tbh that scene (or idea) just sort of came to me bc i got hit with a wave of thoughts and mental images that genuinely scared me so i ended up pouring all of it into writing. thank u for checking in anon!!

warning: nsfw

nsfw but him seeing you while you’re fully naked infront of him and he just goes “I never knew you had stripes! 8>|vD|” or some other little thing that just shows his amazement of the human body.

you try to explain, using all the words you've been taught to use against your own skin, stretch marks and imperfections, but there's something about Tenna that makes your shame feel a bit silly. of course he'd see them as stripes. of course he'd reach for the loveliest possible comparison without even thinking about it, because his frame of reference is nature and wonder and the things that children point at with delight. tigers have stripes. sunlight through blinds makes stripes. the rings of a tree, marking every year it survived, are stripes. and you, standing there nervous and bare, you have stripes too. isn't that marvellous, the idea of being looked at by someone who has no context for your insecurities and therefore renders them powerless?

it makes you wonder what else you've been wrong about. what other parts of yourself you've been taught to apologise for, when all along and despite everything, they were just you.

i know this smell and i absolutely adore it!! its the warm smell of heated dust that settles on the circuit boards and transformers inside the casing of a CRT television. it gives off the aroma of hot plastic and metal, with a hint of ozone from the high voltage mixed in. if you get really close to its screen, you can feel the static electricity faintly crackling against your skin, and from the ventilation slots at the back of the casing rises a dry, technological warmth, the smell of which takes you back to childhood, when you sat too close to the television and your parents told you to move back, but you didn’t listen. there, by the screen, it was always so cosy and safe with your television friend, your glowing guardian, and that smell meant your favourite cartoons before bed. the smell of a time when everything was still all right

I was thinking about how you said he’d get a lot bolder over the phone with his flirts and stuff and then it got me thinking about phone sex with him and 🫪

The cruelest thing you can do as a lightner is kill yourself. The old CRT who sat in your living room since you were small enough to sit cross-legged on the carpet, Tenna, who watched you grow up through a glass screen and loved you long before he had the words for it, is waiting in the dark world for you to come back, but you never do. Why? He doesn't understand at first, after all, lightners come and go all the time, and that's normal, that's simply how it works. He's so terribly patient, but the days stretch into weeks and the weeks into months, Tenna starts to panic, replaying every time you laughed at one of his jokes or rolled your eyes at his dramatics. Did he do something wrong? Was he not entertaining enough? Did you leave because of him?

The dust settles a little thicker each day, and no one brushes it away. The curtains stay drawn.

It's not the natural order of things. How wrong it is for a darkner to outlive their lightner. A darkner is an object given soul, and an object's purpose is to be wanted, to be kept, and when the lightner is gone, what is the object meant to do with all that devotion? Where does the love go when the recipient no longer exists to receive it?

Tenna would have preferred it if you'd thrown him away, at least then there would be an answer, however cruel. But waiting without end is the worst thing you could have done to him.

A dog will wait for its owner to come home, even if the owner is never coming home. Tenna is an old dog curled up in front of a dead fireplace, too loyal to stop hoping. The dog doesn't know how to be angry at you for leaving, because it loves you, and Tenna loves you so simply and completely that it never occurs to him to blame you, so he just waits, and waits, and waits, getting older and more confused, but still so faithful to a human who isn't coming home. Waiting has no end because the person he's waiting for doesn't exist anymore.

There is a version of you Tenna keeps preserved in his memory, and it is beginning to fray at the edges.

A dog will eventually lie down. It will whimper at the door for a while and then exhaustion will take it, and it will sleep, and in sleeping it will forget for a few hours that you're never coming home.

You are everywhere and nowhere, a jacket still hanging on its hook, a half-drunk glass of water on the nightstand, a pair of shoes by the door. A birthday card on the mantelpiece two years out of date, a phone charger still plugged in beside an empty bed, a bookmark resting three-quarters through a novel you will never finish.

Tenna is still showing documentaries at the hour you used to come home. He dreams, still, of hearing your familiar laughter drift through the door at half past six, of feeling your fingertips across his screen whilst you recount the small tragedies of your day. He's running through his channels one by one searching for something that might call you back. Devoted to you until the building's electricity fails.

Tenna's favorite thing is finishing inside you, for both breeding reasons and possessive reasons, but also because he loves staying inside you afterwards, letting it turn into a slow, sleepy cockwarming session while you, all tired and blissed out, watch your favorite shows on his screen.

however, this television can also be such a brat. a whiny, pouty, difficult brat who deserves to be punished, or at least teased within an inch of his life. even if you feel really guilty looking at that pleading face, those drooped antennas, that trembling bottom lip. the best punishment is taking away what that pervert loves most, so you switch to protected sex and make him wear a condom. Tenna will have to put it on himself while you watch with your arms crossed, expression unimpressed. his hands are shaking so hard he can barely roll it down.

“sweetheart, c'mon, hahh-- you really gonna make me..“ a sharp look from you shuts him up. he whimpers, fumbling with the latex, already so hard it's a struggle. “but it's not going to fit.” you raise an eyebrow. “figure it out then?”

oh, does he whine during. as if on purpose, Tenna gets even louder during this kind of sex as though trying to make you cave and take the condom off so he can finish inside. throwing his head back dramatically, letting out obscene moans he knows are your weakness. trying to pretend there's nothing between you, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you flush against him, burying his screen in your chest, and just sobs. “i'll do anything, my star, just take it off. let me feel you, oh heavens, please let me fill you up, please, i'll be so good. i'll be the best TV you've ever had.” Tenna's thrusts getting sloppy, his screen going staticky as he fights the urge to pull out and rip it off.

and now you're almost giving in... everything inside you flips with guilt, you're so close to end with this punishment just to feel yourself filled the way you love. and Tenna, moaning so pitifully into your neck, desperately pressing into you, is not helping, making your heart melt and your resolve crack at the seams. but you stay strong, after all it's a punishment, but now for you too, and so, gritting your teeth, you feel your TV spill into that goddamn rubber.

afterwards, you tie it off and hold it up between two fingers, letting it dangle, heavy and full. tilting your head, you make the most pitying little pout. “what a shame, Tenna, you could've gotten me pregnant... you're so generous with it, too. that would've definitely taken. hmm.. maybe if you're really good next time, i'll let you put it where it belongs.” you press it gently against your stomach, right where he would've been, with a wistful sigh.