#(( p;bootycall ))

[virginsexgod69]

Hey, I love your writing! Could you write a story about Rick Grimes and a female reader?

It's two months after Lori's death and you and Rick have been sneaking around keeping your relationship on the DL

And during one of the hookups, he ended up calling you Lori instead. The hookups stopped for a while, and he went crazy because you had been avoiding him since the awkward moment. He ended up doing everything in his power to get you back

Please don't rush take your time :]

❝ Sweetheart ❞

pairing Rick Grimes x f!Reader

cw smut, unprotected p in v, angst, pining

note you are very kind, @hutchersonsgurl and i really enjoyed writing this request! sorry i took so long, but ty for your patience! i hope you like!

4.7k words

 This was the nth time you woke up naked, laying against Rick's bare chest in the uncomfortable cot of your cell. The first time this happened, you felt horrible. His wife had died barely two months ago, and here you were fucking him in secret. Maybe this was his way of grieving, or maybe he actually liked you, but either way the sex was too good to stop. 

"Mornin' sweetheart," he said, his voice still raspy with sleep. Your heart swelled. You loved when he used that nickname. You responded by pressing a gentle kiss to his chest. He wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you closer. 

"Get 'nough sleep?" he asked, a teasing quality to his voice. He had kept you up all night and he knew it. You had the sore thighs and marks littering your body to prove it. 

“You kept me up all night and wore me out. I think I should be exempt from my duties today.”  He laughed at your suggestion. 

“S’too bad. I wanted to go out for a quick supply run, jus you ’n me.”  You perked up at this. Supply runs that involved just the two of you were always more than supply runs. Even if they ended up just being regular supply runs, you still enjoyed spending time with Rick. 

“When’re we leavin’!?” You asked excitedly as you untangled yourself from Rick’s arms to get up. He pulled you back into the cot and held you in a tighter embrace. 

“It’s still early. Let’s stay like this for a bit, yeah?” He asked before tenderly kissing your hairline. 

"You seriously wearin' that?" Rick asked as you approached the car. You wore a form fitting tank top paired with some denim low rise short shorts. You knew it wasn't the most practical outfit, but you couldn't resist teasing him. 

"Somethin' wrong?" you asked with faux innocence. He couldn't answer you seeing as he was too busy gawking. Piercing blue eyes stared at your cleavage before drifting down to your thighs where the marks he sucked on them peeked out from beneath the shorts. He's seen you naked and been inside you so many times, yet the sight of you in that simple outfit damn near brought him to his knees. 

"You gonna keep starin' or are we gonna get goin'?" You asked, arms impatiently crossed beneath your chest. He playfully rolled his eyes before opening the passenger side door for you, ushering you inside. He got in the driver's side and began driving to the department store you spotted the other day. 

 Rick's hand rested comfortably on your thigh as he drove and as you alternated between admiring him and admiring the view outside. Being alone with the man gave you the perfect opportunity to ask him all the questions swimming in your head about your relationship. You couldn't decide between enjoying the peaceful, comfortable silence or initiating a talk with him, but eventually decided on the latter. 

"What am I to you, Rick?" you asked with forced nonchalance. You could've sworn you saw him tense up, but he recovered so quickly you couldn't even be sure it happened. 

"What do you-" he took a breath, "what do you mean?" 

The lack of an immediate answer made your heart sink a little. You weren't expecting a speech followed by a marriage proposal, but anything else would've been nicer. 

"Am I a rebound? A friend? A bootycall? A..." you hesitated for a moment, "girlfriend?" You hated how hopeful you sounded at the last suggestion. 

 He ran a hand over his face and sighed before answering. "I don' know what you are to me." Your eyes burned with tears that you refused to let fall. His hand grabbed yours, squeezing it comfortingly. "But I know you're special to me and I could never live without you." You reciprocated his hand squeeze. Although it wasn't exactly what you wanted to hear, his words made your heart swell. 

  You held his hand for the rest oft the car ride, until the department store came into view. It was worn down on the outside, like most places were, and some of the letters were missing from the sign. Some windows were broken and others were boarded up. Pickings were slim so even if you thought there'd be nothing in there, it'd be worth it to check. You exited the car and grabbed your backpack full of snacks, water bottles, and a few weapons along with an empty bag for your finds and slung it over your shoulder. Rick grabbed it from you and carried it instead, a simple but gentlemanly gesture. 

 Hand in hand, the two of you entered the store. You were shocked to see fluorescent lighting and feel the cool air conditioning. The rest of the store was a mess. Dismembered mannequins, clothes, and clothing hangers littered the floor. Empty clothing racks were tipped over along with shopping carts. 

"Just grab a bunch of these clothes for everyone, I'll go look for some baby stuff," Rick said. You agreed and began shoving as many clothes as you could fit into the empty bag. With Rick off somewhere else, you began looking around the store. It all looked the same aside for a few different items strewn across the floor. You threw an apple scented candle into the bag because why not, and shoved in some blankets. The bag could barely zip, which was your sign to stop "shopping." You continued exploring the store until you came across the mattress aisle.

   It had felt like ages since you've felt the comfort of a real mattress and it was far too tempting not to give in. You set the bag down, but kept your knife and holster on you in case you ran into any trouble. You ran before jumping onto a random mattress, bouncing a little before settling on it. The fluffy comfort soothed your achy body. It hadn’t even been a minute, but your eyelids already started feeling heavy. Rick calling your name jostled you from your short sleep. You debated on ignoring him so you could drift back off to sleep, but that was far too dangerous and you knew that. 

“Over here,” you called back. He found his way over to you, baby clothes and other items in his arms. He looked at you skeptically before setting the stuff in his arms down. 

“What’re you doin?” 

“When was the last time you felt a real mattress, Rick?”  He looked up in thought, but took too long to answer, so you patted the spot beside you. He flopped onto the mattress, settling down next to you. You turned to face him. 

“Comfy, right?” His face cracked into a smile. 

“Yeah, too bad we can’t take it back to the prison,” he lamented. 

“Yeah,” you trailed off, eyes darting between his eyes and pink lips, “We better make the best outta this while we can.” You couldn’t help the way your mouth pulled into a smirk. His face mirrored yours as he pulled you in for a kiss. You tangled your fingers in his hair, deepening the kiss. His hands slid down your body, gripping your ass before pulling you into him, grinding his crotch against yours. He moaned into your mouth, allowing you to slip your tongue into his, tasting him. Out of breath, he pulled away, panting with pink cheeks and pupils blown with lust. He flipped you from on your side to your back before kneeling on either side of your hips. You sat up and went for his belt buckle, but he pushed you back down into the mattress. 

“C’mon, Rick, what’re you waiting’ for?” You whined impatiently. He leaned down and grabbed your face between one of his large hands, lips puffing out from the way he squeezed your cheeks. 

“Patience, little girl, or I won’t let ya cum,” he threatened with a lustful darkness in his eyes. Your stomach flipped and your pussy throbbed. You loved this side of Rick, but you hated waiting. You nodded your head and he relinquished his hold on your face. The pout on your face was quickly wiped away when he began sucking on the space where your neck and shoulder connected. You were too caught up in the moment to worry about him leaving marks on hard to cover places on your body, and he didn't seem to care too much either. He nipped at your collar bones as you tried to stifle the giggles that the ticklish feeling of his beard caused. When your tank top got in the way of his descent, he made quick work of removing it, almost tearing it in the process. His eyed went wide when he realized you weren't wearing a bra, but you just smiled innocently at him, causing his pants to tighten. The cool, air conditioned air hardened your nipples, which Rick pinched, earning restrained whimpers from you and making you squirm beneath him. 

"Nah, no holdin' back, I wanna hear you." 

"B-but what if walkers-" your own moan cut you off when Rick took your breast into his warm mouth. He captured your nipple between his tongue and the roof of his mouth as he sucked all while his other hand continued pinching the other. Your hands tangled in his hair as you pathetically whimpered. He pulled away from your breast with a wet pop and continued kissing wet, sloppy kisses down your stomach, until he met the waistband of your little shorts. The way he strained against his pants grew painful and he knew he wouldn't last much longer. 

"Turn 'round, wanna see your pretty ass in those little shorts," he ordered, gripping your hips to flip you over. You supported yourself on your elbows with your back arched and ass in the air, per Rick’s command. 

“God, you look so damn good in those shorts.” The complement sent heat flooding to your core. 

“Hurry up, Rick, I need you!” You whined wantonly. You knew Rick didn’t have patience for your impatience, but could he take any longer? Rick slapped your ass, leaving a pleasurable sting. 

“What’d I tell you ‘bout bein’ patient?” Rick snapped. You glanced at him behind you with pleading pout on your face, silently asking for forgiveness all while begging him to hurry up and pound you into the mattress. He already couldn’t say no to you, but when you looked at him like that it took almost everything in him to not give into your every whim. 

“Goddamn, sweetheart, you drive me crazy,” he groaned as he hurriedly unbuckled his belt. His hands were on you again, yanking your shorts down to your knees. With the way your arousal coated your inner thighs, Rick gave up on taking his time with you. You looked so delectable as you eagerly laid there desperately waiting for him with your own wetness leaking down your supple thighs. His hand held your hip in place as the other lined himself up with your entrance. He slid in effortlessly, filling you up so perfectly. A guttural moan escaped him once he bottomed out.  Every vein along his shaft you could feel as he thrusted in and out of you. His grip on your hips hardened to the point of leaving bruises as he pounded in and out of you. 

“Yer takin’ me so good, princess,” he said between his own pants and occasional breathy moans.

Your elbows shook as you struggled to support yourself, weakened by the pleasure and the pounding you were getting from the man behind you. They finally gave out, leaving you face down in the soft mattress. Rick’s thrusts were becoming sloppy and rhythmless as his breathing shallowed. 

“Rick, ‘m gonna cum,” you whined. 

“Me too, jus’ wait a sec.” 

He continued his tired thrusts, his hips bumping your ass with each one, filling the store with wet, erotic sounds.

“Oh, god! Rick!” You screamed as you came around his cock. Your velvety walls squeezed him as your eyes rolled back while your orgasm overtook you. He let out a guttural moan as his hot release flooded your tired cunt. After pulling out, the man collapsed beside you on the mattress. You turned to face him, a sleepy smile on your face as you cuddled up to him. He took you in his arms and held you to his chest, peppering kisses all over any part of you he could reach. 

“You’re so good to me, Lori,” he said between kisses. You froze and Rick did too. You forced yourself out of his arms. His arms were once your favorite place to be. You felt safe, warm, and comforted, like the world hasn’t ended. But now it felt like your world ended. The arms that once gave you safety and comfort left you feeling vulnerable and weak. 

“Sweetheart, I-I’m sorry, it was a genuine mistake,” he pleaded. His blue eyes held unshed tears which he blinked back as he desperately apologized. You ignored him, choosing instead to redress yourself in an angered frenzy. 

He called your name in that firm tone he uses when he’s serious. “It was an accident, I promis-“

“Shut up, Rick!” You snapped. His eyes widened in shock and honestly yours did too. You never snapped at him and not in a million years would you have told him to shut up. But you were just so angry. He hurried off the bed and pulled up his pants before hurrying to catch up to you as you stormed off. He grabbed your arm, successfully stopping you. 

“Just,” he sighed, “just listen to me. Please?” He pleaded. You refused to look at him, not wanting him to see the tears you couldn’t hold back. You snatched your arm out of his grip and grabbed your previously discarded bag. 

“I’m goin’ back to the prison,” you said cooly, grateful you were able to keep the waver out of your voice. The lump in your throat burned and your chest ached, but you refused to look back at the man, despite him calling after you. In all honesty, you just wanted to run into his arms and cry into his chest, but he was the one who had you feeling this way. 

 Rick had caught up to you once you were back outside in the Georgian heat. “You can’t walk back to the prison by yourself. It’s far and it’s dangerous,” he bargained. You turned to glare at him, facing him for the first time since he called you by his recently deceased wife’s name. 

“I can handle myself just fine out there and you know that!”  Rick was only rubbing salt in the wound, intentional or not. It already hurt that he called you by the wrong name, but to underestimate you like that only cut deeper. 

“I don’t doubt that one bit, but it’s dangerous out there and I’m jus’ tryin’ to protect you!” 

 Normally, you reveled in his protectiveness. It made you think that maybe there was a chance he loved you, too, but now it only made you angrier. How dare he hurt you then pretend to care about your safety by claiming to protect you. 

“Why? Cause you couldn’t protect your precious Lori!?” You spat before your hands flew up to cover your mouth in shock.  Rick’s face fell as he stood there, frozen, staring at you with heartbreak evident in his eyes. You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth. It wasn’t even his fault she died. An apology burned on the tip of your tongue, but you swallowed it, wanting Rick to hurt just as much as you did. Your turned on your heel and resumed your trek back to the prison and this time he didn’t stop you. 

You cried to yourself quietly in your cell that night. It had been the first night in a while that you spent without Rick under the covers with you. His Freudian slip was more than an innocent mistake to you, it solidified every insecurity that had been brewing in the back of your head. Rick didn't love you, he loved Lori and you were just there to wet his dick while he grieved her death. You looked at him like he hung the moon, but when he looked at you, he just wished you were someone else, and that hurt. Eventually, that hurtful feeling of emptiness was overtaken by a dreamless sleep. 

When you woke the next morning, you just wanted to go to sleep. You wanted to skip out on all your responsibilities and re-enter that state of dreamless sleep that kept you from thinking about Rick. Once you got ready for the day, you trudged over to get something to eat. Footsteps rapidly approached behind you and you felt a hand gently grab your forearm. 

"Can we please talk?" Rick asked. You didn't even want to turn to face him, your urge to ignore him too strong. Honestly, you hoped he'd be mad at you too, for what you had said, but he didn't sound mad at all, just desperate. When you turned to face him, all of your emotions from last night came flooding back tenfold. 

"There's nothing to talk about," you replied, struggling to keep your voice even. You hated how broken you sounded almost more than you hated the way he was looking at you. His red rimmed eyes hinted that he had also been crying, but the way hurt and remorse swam around in his blue irises tugged at your heartstrings. You just wanted to give in and hug him and have him tell you everything was alright while he kissed your tears away. But the thought that maybe he used to do that to Lori upset you all over again, sending tears burning your already puffy eyes. You snatched your arm out of his grip and turned away from him once again.

"I, um... There's lots of walkers at the fence," you mumbled before hurrying off. 

All week, Rick didn't give up on trying to win you back. It honestly confused you. Did he miss you, or did he just miss having sex with you? Either way, you refused to give in. As much as you wanted to, you wouldn't. You didn't want to keep being a replacement for his late wife, so you just ignored and avoided him whenever you could.

 Whenever you would pass Rick in the halls, you'd go another way so he couldn't talk to you, which he always tried to do. He'd either try to apologize or beg you to talk to him, neither of which you wanted to listen to. You ignoring him really started to take a toll on him, and everyone started noticing. 

"Wha's goin' on between you 'n Rick?" Maggie asked you in the watchtower when she came to switch shifts with you. 

The question caught you off guard, stilling you in your place. "Nothin', why?" you replied as casually as you could. The mention of the man always made your heart beat a little faster, apparently that remained true when you were mad at him.

"He's seemed a little...off lately, and honestly, you have too." 

You trusted Maggie, you really did, but just the thought of telling her what happened felt humiliating. 

"Why do ya say that?" you ask, still trying to play it cool. 

"Well, ever since the two a' ya stopped seein' each other, you both've been miserable and it's kinda been affectin' everyone in here too," she explained. Your eyes went wide in shock knowing that she knew about your hookups with Rick. She must think you were awful for getting in bed with him almost as soon as his wife died, and it made your stomach churn. 

"Y-you knew?" you forced out through your dry throat. 

"There isn't much privacy in here," she said matter of factly. 

You looked down at your feet in shame, unshed tears burning in your eyes. If she knew, it was likely everyone else knew too. 

"Anyway," she said, digging in her pocket. She pulled out a few wildflowers. "Rick wanted me to give you these." You accepted them before you could even think of rejecting them. 

"Thanks, Maggie," you said, offering a weak smile. She returned the smile. Your turned to leave the watchtower, but before you could go, the sound of her voice stopped you. 

"Just so you know, nobody's judgin' Rick 'n you." You felt some of the weight on your shoulders dissipate. It was nice to know nobody hated you for hooking up with Rick, but that didn't matter much since you two were essentially broken up. 

 Rick missed you. He was more distraught now than he was when he was seeing his dead wife in different places. He hadn't been able to sleep without you wrapped up in his arms. Guilt crushed him whenever you avoided him around the prison. Guilt because he hurt one of the most important to him. He didn't even care about what you said that day, he just wanted you back. It wasn't even the sex that he missed, it was you. Seeing how you ignored him whenever you were unable to avoid him, he figured the chances of getting you back were slim. Apologies and wildflowers wouldn't be enough. He needed to do whatever he could to get you back. 

He wanted to give you your space as much as he could, which is why he didn't try to pursue you other than when you crossed paths, but he was losing his mind. Which is why he found himself outside of your cell. He hesitated before knocking on the wall beside the curtain covering the cell's bars. He heard shuffling and grumbling before he saw you peek out from behind the curtain, which you quickly drew shut upon seeing him. 

"I need to talk to ya. I promise I'll leave you alone, but only after you hear me out," he whispered, not wanting to wake the others. The silence on your ended lasted for what felt like a while before you finally let him in. You sat down on your cot as Rick stood there awkwardly before eventually sitting a respectable distance away from you. 

"What do ya want?" you asked, not looking at him. 

He took a deep breath as he gathered his words in his head. He had some idea of what he wanted to say to you, but his mind went blank when he saw you. You looked sad and tired, the complete opposite of how you were before that day at the department store. 

"I came in here because I wanted to apologize. I dunno why I called you Lori, but it wasn't 'cause I was thinking of her," he insisted. Your only response was huffing and crossing your arms over your chest, still not looking at him.

"Please, look at me," he pleaded. He sounded weak and desperate because he was. You made him weak and he'd do anything just to have you look at him like you used to. You finally turned to face him, but your gaze was cold and distant. 

"Did you even mean it when you said I was special to you? When you said you couldn't live without me?" you asked guardedly. Rick hated that he made you feel like you couldn't be vulnerable with him anymore. He was ready to bare his whole heart out to you and wished you could do the same. Your walls were up so high that he couldn't even read you anymore. 

"I meant every-" 

"Or were you thinking about Lori when you said that," you spat. 

Rick sighed and ran and hand over his face. He took a minute to compose himself, blinking back the tears that sprung forth at your words. He didn't realize he had hurt you that badly. He glanced around your cell as he blinking back his tears, noticing the flowers he picked for you sitting in an small can filled with water in the corner. It gave him some hope that you'd forgive him. 

"You are the only one for me." He reached for your hand but you snatched it away. 

"Rick, I'm not just some hooker you can call over whenever you get sad thinkin' 'bout your wife" your voice broke as your lips and chin began to quiver, your tears failing to stay put in your eyes.

 Seeing you fall apart crying broke Rick's heart, making it harder for him to hold back his own tears. He didn't know what else he could say to make you understand that his life wouldn't be the same without you. So he pulled out a piece of paper with a letter he wrote for you. He was originally going to have someone else to give it to you for him since you'd been avoiding him. But now was he chance. He placed it on your cot before letting himself out.  

You paced back and fourth in the prison fiddling with the letter Rick gave you as you anxiously waited his and the others’ return. You had all presumably defeated the Governor, but the others went after him anyway to tie up any loose ends. Having been a part of the initial fight, you wanted to go too, but Rick wouldn’t let you. You arguing with him on why you should go had been the first time you talked to him since he came to your cell that night a week ago. 

Worrying about Rick made you feel guilty for ignoring for all this time. You spent all this time ignoring him, too afraid to admit to yourself that you still loved him. And now he might be dead somewhere, never knowing that you forgive him and love him too. You stared down at the letter and reread it for the nth time, seeking comfort in his written words. 

Sweetheart, 

 When you asked me what you were to me, I couldn’t find the right words to answer. It shouldn’t have taken me losing you to realize that you are my everything. In such a short time, you became my world and I wouldn’t be able to live a day without you. Every time you’re away from me, I yearn for the moment of your return. I don’t know how much time we’ll have together, but no matter how much or little we have left, I will spend all of it trying to earn your love again, because I love you, (Y/N). 

-Rick 

 Tears welled in your eyes. You felt so foolish wasting so much time you could’ve spend loving Rick being angry with him. You folded the letter again and shoved it in your back pocket. The sounds of the gate opening and Daryl’s motorcycle approaching took your attention. You ran outside, hurrying past everyone else headed the same way. You saw Rick standing there unscathed talking with Carl. Tears blurred your vision as you practically charged at him. He opened his arms just in time for your to jump in them. You sobbed into his shoulder as you held each other tight. You pulled away from the kiss and held his face in your hands, staring into his beautiful, blue eyes. He leaned down for a kiss which you happily accepted. 

“They back together again?” Daryl asked. 

“About time,” Carol responded. 

With the addition of the Woodburians, privacy was even harder to come by, but you and Rick made sure to get some the night he returned. You sat perched on his lap with your arms wrapped around him and face nuzzled in his neck. He rubbed soothing circles on your back, happy he was yours again. 

“I’m so sorry for what I said that say,” you mumbled. 

“Me too, sweetheart,” he said soothingly. You sat up and stared at Rick. He looked tired, but at peace for the first time in a while. 

“What?” He asked with a smile on his face. His smile made your own face split into a matching one. 

“I love you.” He pressed his forehead to yours. 

“I love you, too, Sweetheart.” 

this was partially proofread.

anyway, thanks for reading! <3

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[jealousjersey]

last night ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ mike schmidt x reader ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

warnings: drunk sex, smut and a little fluff, cum eating, oral (reader receives) creampie

mentions: reader is afab and uses fem pronouns. drunk sex, reader sees mike at a bar and goes home with him. drunk driving, abby is not mentioned. p in v unprotected (wrap it!!) cum eating, mike eats out reader mike gets pussy drunk (obvi), one(1) mention of “y/n” minors dni i have a bat

1.3k wc

you and mike used to work together, knowing of each others existence but never communicating other than “hey” or “what’s up” while passing each other in the hall at the mall.

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it’s 10:23 pm and you just arrived at a random bar your taxi driver suggested to you, you don’t usually drink but you got a promotion at the mall and you wanted to celebrate, even if it was by yourself. you sat alone at the bar, sipping on your mixed drink for about a hour. that is, before the most delicious looking man walked in. mike schmidt.

you had already known him previously, you two never really talked, nothing more than a “hey” or “how’s it going” so you just didn’t mind him. but you always said he was your “work husband” to people who’ve never met him.

mike walks to you and plops down in the bar chair with the cracks in the leather. you don’t want to speak right now but he practically makes you.

“heyyy” he slurs while looking you in your eyes surrounded by dark circles. “hey mike” you reply as you take a shot of everclear.

he looks confused. he was wondering how you knew his name, then he remembers. “oh shit, y/n, what are you doing here you don’t drink” he teases. at first mike just wanted to hit on some girls, just some bootycalls that don’t mean anything to him the text day. but to him, you were different.

mike always had a slight crush on you, even if he just saw you doing your job. he always caught himself staring at you wiping down tables in the food court. and you can’t lie, you’ve always thought he was pretty cute too.

“how’s it going? you know, at the mall?” he says, trying not to fumble his words around as he’s on his 5th drink. “it’s alright, better since you left” you tease. “i know you missed me i saw the way you looked at me im not blind sweetheart” he grins as he sees your face reddening. “hush you’re just drunk mike.” you say back to him as your face flushes. “not drunk enough to not see you blush.” he replies, moving a piece of your hair out of your face.

a few more drinks in and he’s wasted. mike is a fun drunk, a little emotional but fun. his social awkwardness completely goes out the window when he’s tipsy. “i-im go-gonna go no-now” he slurs. “holy shit you’re wasted” you say to him. you can’t let him drive home. “let’s go babe. i’m taking you home.” you say, grabbing his arm to escort him out the bar. you’re tipsy but not too drunk to drive. mike hands you his keys and you lead him to his truck. at this point you’re scared that he’s gonna get alcohol poisoning from how much he drank, mike was the type of guy to drink his liquor straight.

you arrive at his house and help him out of his truck. “you can come in if you want” he suggests. “fuck it” you thought as you nod to him. you walk into his house and you’re surprised at how well he kept it, knowing he was single, worked all the time, and lived alone. mike stumbles to the couch and you follow behind. the first 10 minutes is awkward, not knowing wether to talk to each other, cut on the tv or just sit in silence.

“can i tell you something i’ve been wanting to tell you for a while” mike blurts out. 10 minutes of silence and he leads with this. “yeah of course what is it?” you reply innocently. you know how this is going to end.

“you are so hot” he says confidently. “oh so we’re doing this now?” you say to him as you put your hand on top of his. he turns his hand around and interlocks with yours. you look up as him and lock eyes. “holy shit we are doing this” you thought. mike removes his hands from between yours and leans in to kiss you.

mike is a great kisser. his lips are surprisingly soft with tiny chapped bits around the outside of his lips but it makes sense, it also makes sense that you got a nose full of the smell of alcohol, you know why you expected this. his lips open and invite your tongue inside, a real make out session with mike fucking schmidt.

mike breaks the kiss and you moan unexpectedly. “i’ve wanted to do that since i first saw you.” he whispers as he reaches over to kiss your neck. “me too” you whisper back, voice hoarsed from lack of speaking. mikes lips are soft on your skin spattering kisses and softly sucking your skin into his mouth, leaving bruises. mikes hand travels up your leg “is this okay?” he asks. “yes please don’t stop” you reply, and he doesn’t. mike brings his calloused fingers up to your soaking panties and he shutters at the warmth feeling between your legs.

within 2 minutes he has you almost in pieces, inserting two fingers in and out and curling his fingers upwards to hit your soft spot. mikes surprisingly really good at this considering you never even knew he was sexual. “fuck mike” you exhale softly into his chest.

“fuckk baby i’m gonna cum” you moan out. suddenly mike stops with his fingers. “i want us to finish at the same time baby” he says as you almost go to touch yourself to get yourself off. mike grabs your hand and says “nope not yet pretty girl”

mike unbuttons his jeans and slides them down passing his buldge in his boxers. this makes you exhale and shiver. as mike starts to take off his boxers, you start to take off your shirt and bra, exposing your breasts to him. at this point, mike is mesmerized by your every move. you are all he wants. it feels like the room is 20° colder as your nipples harden.

mikes pants are across the room now. he lays beside you on the couch with his cock exposed. it’s even bigger than you imagined. slightly curved to the left as it’s rock solid. you take your panties off the rest of the way and move your way to his lap, softly sitting down on his cock. he grabs your hips and starts moving your body back and forth on his dick, each hip thrust into you hitting your g spot.

“fuck mike you’re s’good” you slur while becoming more vulnerable to him. you didn’t mind this at all. “you’re taking me so well princess, up and down- fuck yeah just like that pretty baby” he grunts out. you feel his dick twitch inside of you and it makes you cry out for more. “baby i’m close” mike groans into your ear

“cum inside, i’m on birth control. fill me up please” you whimper in his ear. hearing you say that makes him moan louder. this makes him finish inside you, filling you up. you finish shortly after him, having the most intense orgasm of your life and having mike ride it out with you.

“that’s right baby, i’m here” he reassures you as your eyes roll back into your head. “you’re so pretty when you’re bouncing on my cock baby” mike says as he kisses your forehead.

a few moments later he gets you cleaned up. and you ask him the dreaded question. “do you like me or are you just messing around.” you ask, it hurt to think this way.

“what?” he looks offended. “of course i like you. if i didn’t i wouldn’t have just been balls deep inside you baby” he still sounds drunk.

“i really like you mike. i just didn’t want to be a booty call to you.” you say as you move a tear out of your eye. of course you were overthinking. you just got fucked by this guy and now you’re in tears.

“listen. i like you, if you’re okay with it i’d like to take you on a real date. i want to learn everything about you.” he suggests.

“will you go on a date with me” he asks.

“obviously” you roll your eyes as you grin.

he kisses you and leads you to his bed. you decide to sleep over tonight and just be late to work tomorrow. this is all that matters right now.

[oogaboogasphincter]

After the Beep | Dieter Bravo x afab!reader

gif by @joelmjller

In your absence after last night’s rendezvous, Dieter has some fun with dirty voicemails.

word count/rating/warnings - 2800+ // swearing, recreational drug use (weed, reader and dieter both use), alcohol (only dieter) EXPLICIT 18+ ONLY: masturbation (m), anal play/fingering (m receiving), edging/orgasm denial (m), descriptions of oral (m and f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (use protection irl obvi), anal sex (f receiving), mentions of strap-ons and gaping (?:!/!:), idiots in love sorta

a/n - this is such a strange fic? idk if i like the style i went with (not my usual)?? there are so many things in here that are just not me lol but i wrote about it anyways??? i hope you enjoy! <3

A hungover Dieter jolts awake when a strong, cold breeze whips through the open patio doors, skimming across his uncovered ass and raising goosebumps in its wake. He grumbles, blearily reaching for his sunglasses and jamming them on his face crooked before reluctantly slumping out from the sheets. As he goes to shut the offending doors, he pauses a moment and remembers that he's forgotten where he is. The absence of car horns, construction ambience and groans from other waking bodies staggers him further into disorientation. He squints out at the pristine backyard that greets him - exotic foliage manicured to the nth degree, a crisp swimming pool gleaming fierce in the morning sun, and not another soul in sight.

Ah, yes, he's at his actor friend's "getaway" house while he's in town for... what was it? Not an interview (it'll be a while before the next one since he botched the last so bad), not a movie (at least hopefully not, any and all scripts have been completely obliterated from his mind for the time being), what was it...

He closes the glass doors and absentmindedly scratches his stubbly balls, still staring out at the calm, confined water even though his pupils are hurting. The softness of his t-shirt against his fidgeting forearm surprises his delayed senses, as he doesn't remember putting it on when he went to sleep...

And suddenly all his questions are answered.

You.

He's in town because he wanted to see you. Dieter's not one for committal, romantic feelings, but his honesty wins over his ego when he admits that he needed to see you. Although you began simply as his favorite bootycall of this specific city, he grew fonder of you than he ever has for anyone else he has a similar exchange with. No matter the carnal options, no matter the city or time, he found himself requesting you over and over again. Whenever he tried to quench his thirst with another body, another substance, another side job, he was left parched and belittled.

You make him feel free. Not only because you aren't in the public eye (although that does help ease his paranoia when he's on a downward spiral), but because of the way you give him the space to be himself. He doesn't have to put on a performance for you, nor is he prohibited from expressing his innermost desires. He never once felt in your presence that he had to think too much about or hide what he was doing. You'll be there to listen, always, like he is for you. You tried to explain to him once that it was the least you could do, but common courtesy and decency doesn't extend far or hold very much genuine meaning in his industry, so it confuses him. You intrigue him; the way your mind works, he wants to translate your brainwaves to puzzle pieces and figure out how to put you together over and over again.

On a less heartfelt note, in combination with all of this - he's had some of the best orgasms of his life when he's with you. Maybe the trust correlates with lowered inhibitions, but your talents alone speak for themselves.

He grins to himself, eyeing the only article of clothing he's wearing: his shirt that you had fallen asleep in last night.

Minutes after he called you and told you he was in town, you were rapping on this unknown front door and pouncing on your tipsy lover. Winding your arms tight around his broad shoulders to bring him down to your height, wasting no time licking into his mouth, and hiking your leg up over his hip, almost tumbling the two of you over, he picked you up and took you straight to the bedroom. Hours upon hours passed, and you finally gave your sweaty skin a break by slipping on his worn shirt, relishing in the cool yet thin barrier it posed between your heaving chests.

Unfortunately, to Dieter's whiney dismay, you couldn't call off work the next day. You stretched away from his slack body with a teasing groan while it was still dark in the morning, giving him a show of taking off his shirt and throwing it at his face in retaliation to his smack on your ass. You thought he had fallen asleep before you left, but he dismally watched you leave, his heart bursting as you tried to keep quiet for him, and pulled the shirt on inside-out for your lingering smell and warmth to lull him back to sleep.

Before his brain can recall the explicit details of your rapturous night together, his cock is standing at attention. He was half-hard when he woke up, but now the veins that run alongside his length are rigid and his tip is a warm red, bobbing in the air. You were so ravenous for Dieter last night, and his energy sluggish thanks to a couple of drinks, that you had taken the reins and snatched every moan, groan and whimper you wanted from him.

Both being switches - and the previous rendezvous you had being him pinning you against the bathroom sink at his favorite restaurant, yanking your hair and making you stare back at yourself in the mirror, crumpling in his arms as you took his relentless pounding - it was a nice change-up.

But Dieter hates repetition.

Now all hot and bothered by racy thoughts of you, he swings the patio doors back open and plops down on the bed, resting his aching back against the headboard (he came to reason it wasn't just his aging muscles, you really had ridden him to oblivion.)

He artfully runs both hands over his naked groin, fingertips skating up his shaft and encircling the head in a tight ring, pulsing his frenulum once, twice, then releasing with a pent-up groan. He bobs himself a couple times, chuckling at his own absurdity. With the house all to himself, nowhere to be, nothing worthwhile to do until you get off of work, he chucks his sunglasses onto the sheets beside him. Oh, he's going to have some fun this morning.

It might be technically closer to afternoon, it's hard to tell in this city that always suns, but he doesn't care. He does care to take advantage of the circulating breeze pouring from outside into the room, and before settling deeper into the bed to begin his session, he leans over to the nightstand and grabs a joint.

Thank you, earlier Dieter, he congratulates on the first inhale, glad that he busied his depressed self after you left this morning with rolling more than what was necessary. He pauses to spit into his dominant hand, slicking up his cock from base to tip, and starts moseying to his peak. With a loose fist gliding up and down his shaft, he smokes for a bit and waits for the high to fully infiltrate his systems. He prefers being sober or only slightly influenced when he's with you; he wants to experience you unabashed, and you entrance him so much you're in a classification all of your own. But he needs to quell his sadness over your absence or else he won't reap the fruits of his own taxing labor.

The last tendrils of smoke are swept out of the room on his final exhale and with his increased relaxation comes down the barrier to his creativity. He locates his phone (hidden under a pile of Kit Kat wrappers that you nagged him to throw away) and calls you, the weed muddying his memory that you're on-call elsewhere. The robotic audio of the default voicemail message makes him grunt, but when the recording begins, his imagination sparks.

"Hey baby," a salacious grin works its way across his face, "I was just jerking my schlong, thinking about you and your pretty eyes, your gorgeous tits, that evil little smile..."

Your mischievous giggles ring in his ears, his strokes picking up speed. His tongue darts out to catch the drop of spit that has worked its way onto his parted lips, a flash of embarrassment running through him even though you can't see him (and would take utter delight in the fact that you literally make him drool),

"A-and, uh," he splutters before snapping back to his controlled, teasing tone, "and how much you wrecked me last night. I'm forever grateful, honey bun, you know that - but it hurt when you left this morning."

He mock-pouts, "You broke poor old Dieter's heart. I-I think you're gonna have to make it up to me."

His tone takes an abrupt, dominating turn. He growls into the receiver, "And I think I know exactly what I want you to do."

An image floats up through the haze in his mind: the underside of your soft belly, breasts and that conniving smile he mentioned baring itself in the moonlight. From last night - you rid his face until you thoroughly soaked him, that patchy scruff that's dappled along his strong jaw drenched in your arousal. He smirks, thinking of how you have ten hidden bruises dotted across your ass from his fingertips digging into your flesh to grind you down harder against his rabid tongue. Your overstimulated shriek of his name echoes in his head as he devises his plan for you.

"First, I want to fuck that narrow throat of yours," his hand on his cock shifts to grip the top third, his thumb rubbing over his head. He groans into the phone, knowing it'll stoke your voice kink.

"It's only fair since you fucked my mouth so good, I get to fuck yours."

He smears leaking precum around his head, adding more pulsing pressure to his motions, "I'm going to shove my cock down your throat, fuck you until I make you gag."

He imagines the wet, firm but giving sensation he's simulating with his hand to be the back of your throat, pushing up against its velvety smoothness again and again until you tense around his length, only tightening your oral grasp, swallowing around him and sucking him back further.

"And you're going to be a good girl for me and take it. Every last inch I feed you."

The daydreams are so vivid - his thick fingers gripping your hair, his hairy mound tickling the tip of your nose as his hips rock back and forth, your chin dripping with just as much wetness as his was...

He lets go of his cock entirely, edging himself. He can't cum this early - the fun has only just begun.

Dieter glances at his phone nestled in the sheets, and thankfully so, because he's reached the voicemail time limit. The line disconnects, but he dials you back in a flash, eager to tell you more of his dirty story. He rolls his eyes through the default message, although he's grateful you're still busy and didn't pick up, because this would've been a little awkward to interrupt him mid-smut. He continues his naughty monologue.

"You're already so good to me, Bunnicula, you really are," his words are gravelly and elongated with lust as he stretches his dick, admiring its robustness (don't mention the ridiculous nickname he has for you, it stems from your feral desires to fuck each other like rabbits and your penchants for biting.)

"You drive me fucking bonkers when you lick my asshole," one hand stays wrapped around his girth while the other travels down to his scrotum, inching past the sack and reaching his taint as he adjusts his position to something more... accessible. He massages the patch of skin with trembling touches, mimicking how you tease him. Because you don't just dive right in, no, you get your man crying for more.

Just like your tongue's path, he circles around his hole, dropping his head back into the pillows with a moan. The veins in his neck protrude and surge with restraint, the palm on his cock revving from its idle and jerking quickly from base to tip.

"The way you wiggle your tongue in there- goddamnit, baby," he chokes out, pressing the tip of his index into his ass, working it in a slow but strenuous orbit to open himself up. His jerking eases considerably, edging himself again. Against his back's wishes he leans over and spits heaping onto the area of interest, his body too fixated on throes to stop his ministrations and find the bottle of lube. Besides, he's never been afraid to lean masochist.

"I'm gonna give you the same treatment, open you up, nice and slow... because you're gonna fit my whole cock in your asshole," a fresh rivulet of precum leaks and spirals down his painfully erect length with his wriggling finger swallowed up to the knuckle. He bites down on his plush lip, that broad ribcage reverberating with hums of ecstasy. He focuses on the stretch of his own opening and fantasizes about how much more you'll have to take.

"If I can take your strap, bunny, you can take me. It'll feel so good, I'm going to fuck your tight, little hole until you're begging me to never stop."

He lays on the mock charm thick, "But bad girls who abandon their lovers in the morning for work don't get what they want: I'm gonna pull out, and you're gonna gape for me."

Another end of voicemail, another staved-off orgasm. Dieter lets go of his cock like it's on fire and slides his finger out of his ass, grateful the line is dead and you don't hear his pitiful whine of loss opposite his despotic words.

He breaks for a moment of reprieve before he starts teasing himself again, his resolve floundering at meek levels. All of this teetering on the cliff has quashed his energy - he's stumbling in smoke for a climactic finale to his lewd tale. His power to dominate is dwindling, the relaxing chemicals floating in his bloodstream luring him to last night, to let you take over and him sit (more like lay down and gawk) to watch your magic unfold.

He calls you a third and final time, already stroking his twitching shaft at a determined pace.

"I can't do all the work though, baby - I want you to ride me to your heart's content, just like you did last night. Mount me," his eyes close, fighting the urge to roll back and succumb to to his orgasm. Just a few more words, Dieter, and you can finish.

"Ride it," he pictures your hands pressing down on his chest, slipping momentarily out of your greedy stronghold from laborious perspiration.

"Bounce on it," your breasts jumping with your motions, your pert nipples taunting his hungry teeth.

"Grind down on it," your dance slowing to a gyrate, your figure swaying dangerously close to his trigger.

"Drench my cock with your cum until it fills my lap," he replays your screams in his mind, layering them with the gush of your arousal if you have the wherewithal - or Dieter allows you - to sneak your quivering hand down to your aching clit. He can feel it where his sweat pools now; your juices will gather right between his hips to lap up later.

"While you're raining down on me, I'm gonna shoot my load, stuff your sweet cunt full of my-"

The three minute limit is met again as Dieter's heart jolts.

"C-cum!" he shouts, littering his abdomen with streaks of his sticky, hot release. He's mumbling your name over and over again, addicted to you. His arm is fatigued, but his nerves are astronomically alight, so his body goes on autopilot while his vision spots with black, fucking his fist until every last droplet of his pleasure is tapped.

When he begins atmospheric entry, he lies slumped against the headboard, sedated. His entire being just feels like a void of television static, blue screen, buffering, for a solid few minutes. A dribble of his spend running down the slope of his belly shocks him back to life, its path rippling tingles.

Before he can fool himself into thinking he loves you - remember, this is Dieter Bravo: International Tramp - he picks up his phone.

He sends the text and removes his soiled shirt, reaching over to the nightstand to get another joint.

As his highs swirl into one euphoric daze, he wishes you were here now, if he had to choose one moment from his entire fantasy. Dieter likes to cuddle with strangers, gets paid to do it for his job sometimes, so the absence of post-coital snuggling, especially when it would be with you, is always difficult.

You rarely have the opportunity to smoke because of your job, but he imagines sharing it with you, watching you melt further into bliss through the calming clouds. You get handsy, giggly hugs never failing to lead to more heated touches...

His phone lights up with a message from you:

Maybe he is in love with you, if maybe means most definitely. All that's left to do is wait for you to come home and for the two of you to deliver on both your promises.

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[magdalinlaineauthor]

👁️🫦👁️🤳🍑 . #quotestagram #darkromancebooks #stongfemalecharacter #bootycalls #spicybooks #bookquotes #shesaid #phone #ringring #smutslut #spicyreader #instasmutt #bookstagram https://www.instagram.com/p/Cn2LhzrLqFf/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[questionable-decision-comics]

Full of Hot Air. #comic #comics #cartoons #cartooning #doodling #doodle #puns #bootycalls #bootycall #marriage #love #dating #romance https://www.instagram.com/p/CmWpchRu5Yl/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[rkjibeom]

booty call

for @rkkyg

chan had just finished counting their inventory of bags of soil and swept the floor of the flower shop one last time for the night. he dusted off the dirt from his hands and hung up his work apron on a hook before checking everything in order and bidding a farewell to his boss. “see ya tomorrow!”

he felt the familiar buzzing of his phone in his pocket and swiped it out in the open. chan didn’t think twice before answering the call, but he definitely regrets it. “oh my god! chris pratt, you finally picked up! bro, dude, bro. like save me, bro.” pulling the phone away from his ear, chan had to stifle a giggle that threatened to leave his mouth. 

“yugyeom? it’s not even ten yet...” chan tried to hide the disappointment in his voice, but all he got in return were yugyeom’s whines and complaints about his legs not working or something like that. “l-listen, chrissss hemsworth! you’re a good lookin’ guy so help a bro out, please! p-pick me up? and bring me some fries, too... mwah, love you bro!” 

chan shuddered at the kiss through the phone but yugyeom was yugyeom after all. even if the older guy wouldn’t stop calling him every single actor possible with the name chris after chan told him his other name. chan exhaled exasperatedly, “the things i do for friendship...”

[landgraabbed]

Malcolm: “No offense, but I’d rather go with my wife? You might want to go with Kade.” Zazzer: “I can’t believe you, Landgraab. You’re absolutely no fun.”

[portpromise]

While Pippa met our third contestant, Marilyn Mugo, a mysterious portal from the future opened on the front lawn. The producers don’t think this is a breach of the isolation rules of the show, so it’s staying put for now. Anyone who emerges from it will be expected to sign an NDA.

PIPPA: so your profile said something about being a doctor..? MARILYN: yeah, i was watching holby city and then my housemate cracked open a bottle of malibu... and when i woke up, i’d applied to medical school and been accepted. think i also bootycalled some girl called, like, milhouse or something. P: [laughs] been there! M: drunk bootycalls are the worst. P: oh! no, i was talking about the night i watched smash hit pixar™ movie lightyear™ and sleepwalked into NASA hq. baaad night.

Seems like Pippa was totally into Marilyn’s lofty job prospects and taste in British medical dramas - she gave her a 10/10!

[seancekitsch]

pizzatarian: a Diego Hargreeves x reader fic

Warnings: a lil toxic if you squint but not really, mentions of violence, no smut actually, self deprecating shit, high key based on ‘your honor’ by regina spektor, david even called diego a sobby fuckboy and thats what he is

You don't exactly flinch when you hear the jingling of keys, or the struggling noises on the other side of your front door at two in the morning. It’s just Diego. Diego who had a key to your apartment but didn't call you his girlfriend by the light of day. Diego that basically lived here but you have never seen where he actually lives. Diego who once he finally has the key in the door and is turning the lock comes stumbling in. You can hear the thudding of his boots grow louder down the hall as he reaches your bedroom, where you've been up reading, a cardigan draped over you as you fight insomnia. You try to beat him to the door, putting your book aside and jumping up, but before your hand can reach the handle, he’s pushing it open, quickly guiding his way through to your form, cutting off any questions you might have. You sink into the kiss, plump lips warm and inviting as always, kissing you with force that makes your brain fuzzy. Your arms instinctively come up around his shoulders, but you don't miss the way he flinches at your touch. Somethings off, but you push the thought from your mind as your tongue darts out of your mouth, ready to be welcomed into Diego’s mouth. But then you taste copper. Warm, slick copper. Blood.

“Diego,” you try to get his attention, but he’s adamant to keep his lips on you. So you push, hands coming to find his chest and push against him, at least enough to get an answer out of him. You fight his grasp, pulling your face away from his as his lips chase yours.

“Diego, wait, Diego stop,” you push him away, at arm's length when you finally get a good look at him. He’s got a split lip, the beginnings of a black eye which bloomed near his cheek bone and ended near his brow.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

“There was… a fight,” he offers, way more nonchalant than you want him to be right now. He lets you go, but stays close. He’s caught and he knows it.

“A fight about goddamn what, Diego?” your voice comes out strained, exasperated.

“I’ve been fighting for your honor, babe,” he offers to you, almost slurring from a hit to the mouth, but then adds, “You wouldn’t understand.” when he sees your puzzled face. Babe. That’s funny. Not the first time he’s called you babe, but it feels facetious coming from his lips. You would understand if it was just another boxing match, you would understand if it was bullshit having to do with that family he’s never introduced you to. But to somehow be fighting for your honor was alien, dishonest of him to say. Now, you know Diego is a lot of things, but a liar is not one of them. He’s holding out on you, holding back. So if he didn't want to tell you, why was he even here?

“I don't understand? You’re right, I don't,” and then, fuck. You realise what this is. He’s asking for help, showing vulnerability in his own little messed up way.

You sigh, deeply, crossing the floor in front of him.

“Hold on, your honor,” you snort, the ghost of an affectionate smile on your face, “I’ll get ice for your hands.”

If he was going to come up with some bullshit line like your honor, you were going to at least patch him up and give him the couch treatment. He doesn’t get bed privileges for bullshit excuses of kissing you with bloody mouth, you decide.

The walk to your kitchen in the dark is something you have memorized, the fuzzy blacks and greys of your apartment shaping into the furniture and corners you know by daylight. How different they are, shapes and their familiarity based on your perception of them. Your sock clad feet trace steps ghosted over by months of bumping around for midnight water, for candles during storms, for late night snacking. Your hands reach out, and meet the handle of the freezer mechanically, wrenching it open and fumbling for an ice pack or something frozen to help him. Your hands find a box that will do, just before you hear heavy steps following your path.

Diego grabs you by the hips from behind, but not harshly. You feel him wrap his body around you, molding to your form as his head dips and nuzzles against your hair, sighing as he lets himself enjoy the feeling of you.

“C’mon, baby,” he whispers, almost a moan, “Let’s just make love. Let's make love and go to bed. It’s the only thing that’ll make me feel better right now.”

Like hell it is. For someone who won't call you his girlfriend, Diego is a hopeless romantic, and has been the entire time you’ve been doing whatever it is you'd describe this arrangement as.

“Nope,” you say, popping the ‘p’ as you continue, “I don’t kiss people that lose fights.”

He scoffs, sounding legitimately offended.

“Lose fights? Baby, I won the fight. C’mon let’s just get you out of that sweater.”

He pulls the cardigan off of one of your shoulders, exposing you to the chill and his warm hand, immediately making you try to shrug it back up to its original location. This isn’t how tonight is going to go.

“Well, I don't kiss winners either,” you pull the box out of the freezer and close it, still not turning around to face him, “Instead you're making me play nurse.”

“I- I can leave. If y-you dont want me to be here.” he deflates, playful tone leaving, but he doesn't back away. You sigh, deeply.

“No, Diego that's not what I mean. But I’m not rewarding you for this. I don't fight for honor.”

You don't, and you wouldn't; and he shouldn't fight for yours. He shouldn't waste his energy on just a fling.

“So, nurse,” he’s back to joking, “What’s my charge? Gargle with peroxide? A steak for my eye?”

You laugh, actually laugh, and turn to face him, finally. You hold up the box in your hand, and he takes it.

“I’m a vegetarian, remember? It’s a frozen pizza pie.”

He laughs, and accepts it gratefully, looking like an idiot holding the pizza up to his face. You tell him to follow you, and lead him in the darkness to the couch, letting him sit and spread out, legs wide. You opt to perch on the cushion farthest from him, letting him own the space as it’s about to be his bed for the night. His hand that isn’t holding the pizza to his black eye brushes the back of the couch, reaching for you in the darkness. You pick at the fleece of your cardigan, white as snow. You’re lucky he didn’t manage to taint it with his blood, you think, but then dismiss the thought. Staining the cardigan and letting him ruin it would be fitting at this point.

“It’s because I care,” his voice comes out in little more than a whisper. You don’t say anything, hoping he’ll continue.

“It’s because I care about you. I don’t want anyone to get that twisted.”

You really hope his good eye can’t see how wide your eyes are right now, your eyebrows finding a new home in your hairline.

“Diego you— You don’t have to,” fuck, how do you say this? Your hands run through your hair, lip trembling in a way you don’t understand, “You don’t have to defend me, or anything like that.”

He turns to face you, whole body turning with the movement as he hikes a knee up onto the couch.

“You got me, or… whatever this shit is,” you sigh again, the weight of these words hard to pronounce on your tired tongue, “but it’s not like you've asked me to be your girlfriend or anything special. I’m like a common ho, a bootycall that you sometimes get brunch with, Diego.”

His hand along the back of the couch reaches for your hand, and your instincts tell you to rip your hand away from him, but you don’t. You let him hold your hand, let his fingers cage your own and hold them tight. Let your palms fit against each other.

“Just…” your mouth is trembling again, and you wish it fucking wasn’t. “Don’t get cut or anything for me, because it’s not going to change anything. I still won’t be a saint. Don’t be out there fighting for my honor when you haven’t made it yours to defend.”

Even in the dark you can see your words hit him like a freight train, and you wish you hadn’t opened your stupid fucking mouth. You wish you hadn’t been angry at Diego. You wish you had something better than a stupid fucking pizza for him to be holding against his face right now. He moves closer to where you’re sat curled in the corner, makes sure his thigh is brushed up and nestled under your calves. If you want to, you can rest on him. If you want to, you can be sitting in his lap.

“Y-you wanna know why I was fighting, baby?” he's deadly serious. “Because you’re worth it. You don’t need to be a saint. You’re my little pizzatarian that makes me hold deep dish against a black eye.”

You laugh, watery and trembling, and you let your legs relax against his.

“I w-want you to be my g-girlfriend. I want to fight everyone in the city with my bare hands if it means I get to be y-yours.” his voice sounds just as shaky as yours now. “Y-you know I love you, R-right?”

He loves you. You believe him. Diego Hargreeves is a lot of things, but he’s not a liar. You nod, not bothering to ask for clarity, or why he thinks you’re worth it. You just nod. He releases your hand, and uses it to pull you in against his chest. He lets you re-adjust to curl up and fit into his lap. Like it was made for you. You stay like that in the dark, resolving to reinstate his bed privileges.

“Let’s go to bed, Diego.”

You can feel him nod against you. He waits for you to get up, your hand outstretched and waiting for him as he rises to his feet with a groan. You walk by his side until you reach the threshold, and then stop.

“What is it?”

“You get comfy, your honor, I’ll be in there in a minute.”

[yeetbean]

Tell us more about your ocs!

hehehe wellll since youve enabled me :3 :3

Olivia and Wade are childhood best friends, and Olivia was at his house more than her own, and she's part of his family basically. They've always planned on living together, even if/when they both get partners.

Olivia is a tentacle porn artist, and predictably makes bank doing that. Wade works at a sports bar th/f/s, a gay bar sunday (superbear sunday anyone?), and teaches a knitting class at Joann's after their shift on monday/tuesdays. He needs a break.

they are both burning themselves out and WILL be forced to stop doing that.

Wade has self esteem issues and dates men who don't value him, because hes a total sweetheart and lets people walk all over him. Someone sends him a video of his boyfriend shit talking him at a party and its a big wake up call that he deserves better.

Olivia lets work consume her and will ghost people for months and then just pop up one day like nothing has changed. She holds all her girlfriends at arm's length, and her longest off again/on again girlfriend gets engaged, and Olivia realizes she has nothing, just Wade and a handful of people that don't want to talk to her because she never wants to talk to them except for a bootycall at 2am every six months when she's overwhelmed by life and needs to vent.

This happens to coincide with her taking a contract that doesn't pay enough and working her ass off for a high profile company and destroying her wrist for 3 months of work squeezed into one month. Tendonitis forces her to take a break and leave the house.

Andrea/Andie is a queer (she/they) indie game dev and streamer/speedrunner. They're an ambulatory wheelchair user (disability tbd but im thinking heds? more research needed). Their main job is animation but they can also code. They work at a game dev studio but they're not out and she's obviously the only not cishet person on the team.

Andrea meets Wade at his sportsbar job when she gets stood up by a couple she's been seeing (a unicorn did not fix their relationship funnily enough) and they sit at the bar talking about knitting all night.

They knit poorly, and wade inspires them to try and get better at it. She signs up for a class and Surprise! its Wade again. this time they actually exchange info even though she's mortified that she accidentally ended up at his job again.

Wade makes them realize that none of their friends/partners actually care about their interest/what they say. all their interactions are just *buzzes about hyperfixation together* which is totally new to her.

Andie meets Olivia in a little queer cafe. There's one open outlet and they share it in silence! just comfortably working until Olivia gets frustrated with Blender, and Andie happens to know the magic keyboard shortcut that fixes her problem, and they hit it off immediately! Andie is avoiding the fact that she has no friends and Olivia is avoiding the fact that she shouldn't be working until her wrist heals, so she's more than happy to listen to Andie infodump about how blender works for an hour and neither of them get any work done for the rest of the day.

Their relationships go on for months (slow burn my beloved) and somehow Wade and Olivia never catch on to the fact that his Andrea is Her Andie despite them being best friends who talk about everything, and both of them knowing they need a wheelchair. They're just. blind idiots in love.

Andie comes over often (when one or the other is at work) and minds her business. she figures that if there were parts of her relationship w the other they wanted to share, then olivia and wade probably already told the other already. Andie doesn't know that they don't realize it, and she finds it very very funny when the reveal happens.

i could write so much! but I'll stick to summarizing and wont get into the nitty gritty character arc details (theyre delicious these people have issues!). but suffice it to say they will come out the other side healthier happier people.

also olivia is a stoner w a little chihuahua that looks like a rat that she loves. Wade has 3 (nearly identical) cats that they claim is only 1 cat to the landlord (bc fuck pet rent)

Andie has a pet snake! probably a hognose because i love them they're little cuties w their little shovel faces :3 :3

[ethnobootycall]

What's the context of the 'Ethno' in your blog name?

its just part of a silly wordplay on ethnobotany

with the existence of this blog one could say that im studying the culture of bootycalls :p

[violeteyedkiller]

UGH 

Robert it so much like Stan and it kills me

[tinatinahollywood]

This is my kind of #bootycall 🔥Platforms are baaack and I have always loved them 💣💥 GET IN MY CLOSET! Thank you Santa 🎅 for my early Xmas 🎁 #rocker #tinatina #thesebootsaremadeforwalking #thesebootsweremadeforwalkin #oneofthesedaysthesebootsaregonnawalkalloveryou #boots #bootseason #love #platformboots #platforms #black #blackpatentleather https://www.instagram.com/p/CWL4gfdrLrw/?utm_medium=tumblr

[jeweloftheworld]

Venturing to the door on the left, we now enter into the Master Bedroom Suite. :) This is the bedroom of my two founders: Ali and Kala Mashhad. Ali and Kala had 10 kids together and have over 30 grandchildren with more on the way, but they’re not complaining as Kala is a Family Sim and Family is Ali’s secondary. :P

Thanks to ACR wreaking havoc in my old hood, Ali also has two other daughters from a surprise bootycall I never realized he had. ;-; Despite that, Kala never had the want to break up and I can only attribute that to the forgiving nature of her 10 nice points. From those 2 daughters, though, he has an additional 7 grandchildren!

They spend most of their time enjoying each other’s company in the quiet solitude of their balcony located above their 1st floor patio. With a LTW of being a Visionary, Ali spends a lot of time painting with Kala as his muse.

[jonghours]

what is with maddox nxsjisnskslsodsnsm he looks like he lost his mom on that bday vlive, he deadass sang bitch im cow mdfjishsjdjsjsks also bootycall?????

oh,, ur a cute cat,,,

S P A N K.

"i dunno, i dunno why i said it B U T. i said it" -maddox

👈vibe cheque👉

ASJGKAKGK the booty call one is out of context but just the fact that he said that on V Live is do funny I have no excuse for the rest tho

[iamlovekillz]

#bootycall #dickappointment #wakeupwakeup #dontaskquestionschief #quittouchingshit https://www.instagram.com/p/B3hgC9uFLTh/?igshid=rejo1tik9rhi