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lovelivision · 4 months ago

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GHOSTLY ROMANCE ♡

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: fushiguro toji/reader

𝐖𝐂: 8k

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: when it becomes blatantly obvious your house is being haunted, the only thing there is for you to do is coexist but what do you do when that ghostly presence haunting your house begins haunting your heart ??

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ only, smut, swearing, making out, obsessive! toji, ghost! toji, slight perv! toji, toji has a big dick, dirty talk, fingering, voyeurism (?), p in v sex, squirting, creampie, f!reader, reader referred to as 'woman', i think that's all ♡

As of late, you’re beginning to have a sneaking suspicion that your house is haunted, and you aren’t really sure how to react. Often times, you’ll find things aren’t where you left them, some objects are moved just slightly of where they were, and other things are found in completely different rooms.

Sometimes when you go to lock your doors and windows for the night, you find it’s already been done. Innocuous and for the most part these are things you could brush off as you being absent minded, the kicker comes when you start seeing a figure out the corner of your eye or in a passing reflection.

Ignoring it all has been your go to, deciding it’s best to just pretend it’s not happening, and you would continue to keep doing so but your sleep is getting interrupted now and if there is anything you don’t get in between, it’s you and your sleep.

The dreams you’ve been having have started to wander into the obscure territory of some man you don’t recognise living in your house. He walks around like he owns the place, locking doors, closing curtains. It’s not particularly scary but it is unsettling and leaves you feeling unrested, like you didn’t sleep much at all.

Now, as you’re trying to get some well-deserved rest, something goes bump in the night, and you just know it’s that stupid man haunting your house. Frustratedly, you kick the covers off your body and stomp down the hall to where you think the sound originated from.

Arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently, you wait for something, anything, but of course nothing comes. This ghost, entity, or whatever, that’s haunting you started off as easy to ignore and now it’s pissing you off greatly, you just want some damn sleep.

“You got me here, you got me out of bed so you must want something,” your foot continues to tap, increasing pace with your bad mood.

The room continues to be blanketed by the quiet you so badly wanted while you were drifting to sleep, “You’re so rude, haunting me with stupid dreams and moving my shit…” you’re grumbling to yourself, “…haven’t slept well in over a week and now I can’t even get to sleep!”

Still, the room is filled by the deafening silence that usually lingers in your house at this hour, “Great… and now I’m talking to myself, I’m going fucking crazy.”

As you turn to leave the room, you bump into something that feels as stiff as a board. You take a few steps back at it and you’re met with someone’s chest. The person in front of you leans down until they meet your face, his tone deep and monotone when he lets out a low, “Boo.”

It almost feels like the blood drains out of your body at the sight of him and before you have time to really process, your hand is reaching back and up to give him a hard slap right across the face. A small yelp leaving you at it, the smack resounding throughout the otherwise quiet house.

When you draw your hand back, it’s to cover your mouth as you gasp at just how hard you seemed to have slapped him, apology tumbling from your lips and you can only really say it’s because of how shocked you are by the force you used, “I’m so sorry, oh my God, that sounded really bad… did that hurt?”

He’s stoic for a moment before cracking a smile and chuckling at your shocked apology, “Not quite the reaction I was looking for.”

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to hit you…” you trail off, suddenly regretting all your apologies, “Hey! You’re the one who should be apologising to me.”

He’s still far too amused for your liking, “What for? You’re the one who hit me.”

“You quite frankly deserved it,” your brows furrow as you eye him over, you expected something more… ghoulish but he appears to just be some man.

“I don’t think so, I’ve done nothing to you…” he’s talking but you’re not really paying attention, confused by his appearance and, honestly, existence.

Your finger moves towards him, poking at his chest, something you think you shouldn’t be able to do. He’s firm, obviously corporeal, it’d surprise you more if you hadn’t just slapped him as hard as you did.

You’re lost in your thoughts as you continue to poke at him. He cuts himself off to grab your wrist, “–What are you doing?”

“Are you just some guy? Are you just some man in my house right now?” You’re beginning to freak out, much more amenable to the idea of a ghost in your house over some stranger, “I have to call the cops…” you try tugging away, quickly growing more fearful.

He’s rolling his eyes at you like you’re overreacting, “Calm down.”

Your eyes are big and round as you look up at him, scared out of your mind as the idea of some man in your house settles in your bones, “No, I think I’m going to keep being scared.”

“If it makes you feel better, I’m not human…” he squints at you, “Anymore.”

Rightly sceptical when you utter back, “I don’t know if I believe you…”

He seems annoyed at your unwillingness to take him at his word, sighing as he turns and walks out of the room… through the wall. You wait a moment for him to come back but he doesn’t, you’re left in the room alone, wondering if that little interaction actually happened or if you’ve finally lost it.

Another moment passes, waiting, just in case he appears again before you resign yourself to the fact that you’re beginning to hallucinate from lack of sleep. Taking a deep breath, you steady yourself and walk back to your room, only to be met with the sight of him laying leisurely on your bed.

“I’ve gone insane,” you mumble to yourself, “I’m losing my fucking mind in this house alone.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re sane, from what I’ve seen anyways,” He shrugs, “A little spacey but otherwise.”

His words have you glaring at him, “You ever been told you’re annoying?”

“Not for a long time, no,” his smirk is lopsided.

You approach the foot of your bed, looking at him with your arms crossed, “Right… okay, well, you’re annoying.”

His own arms are supporting his head, clearly very comfortable in your bed, “You’ve only spoken to me for a few minutes, I might grow on you.”

A scowl overtakes your face, “I really doubt it.”

His smile feels condescending, “I think it’s your only option, either you get used to me or you move out because this was my house first, sorry doll.”

“I’m still not fully convinced you’re not just some guy in my house,” how are you meant to tell if you’ve gone insane? Maybe you should book a doctor’s appointment.

“I technically am…” he tilts his head at you, “I’m just not alive.”

There are so many questions you have, and you aren’t even sure if you’d believe any of his answers, “If you’re a ghost why can I touch you?”

Stretching out slightly, he groans before answering, “Because I let you, how else would I be moving your shit around?”

“So, you are moving my things around!” You’re pointing at him like some huge mystery has been solved.

He looks at you like it should be obvious at this point that it was him, taking the wind out of your sails with a single look.

Coughing slightly, you cross your arms again, trying to recover from the slight embarrassment you’re currently feeling, “Why are you touching my things and why show yourself now?”

“You yelled at me to show myself,” he rolls his neck, “Thought I’d be polite and give an introduction.”

“Some introduction… you didn’t even give me your name,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache coming on, “You only answered one of my questions.”

A soft sigh leaves him, like this whole conversation is becoming tedious, “I get bored.”

“Really? That’s your answer? I’ve been wondering if I’m crazy or if my house is haunted and even losing sleep over stupid dreams of your stupid face and you’re telling me it’s because you’re bored.”

He purses his lips, like he’s trying to hide a smile, “Pretty much.”

“Get out.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” your hands are on your hips, prominent frown plastered on your face, “Get out.”

“I can’t technically leave,” he tries to reason with you.

“I don’t care, I know you can disappear and leave me alone so do that,” you’re so tired and cranky, you just want to go to sleep and pretend this never happened, “I want to sleep, and I want it to be peaceful so leave me alone and get out!”

“So bossy,” he grumbles as he gets up, leaning down into your space as he walks past you, “I like that in a woman.”

You fight the involuntary shiver that wants to run down your spine, beyond pissed off at Casper the annoying ghost. Why did your house have to be haunted? Why couldn’t you live a peaceful and normal life? These are all things you wonder as you crawl into bed, determined to get some sleep tonight.

ִֶָ𓂃 ༘࣪࿐

In the morning, you think what had happened last night was some obscure dream, and you’d probably go on thinking that way if your ghostly house guest didn’t appear in front of you while you’re in the middle of breakfast.

Your spoon clatters to your bowl with a gasp, “Don’t!” You sigh loudly, “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” He leans back into the chair across from you.

“Don’t just appear,” you grumble to yourself, “Almost thought I had made up all of last night.” So close to having a normal life, you can see it now floating out of your grasp.

“Sorry, doll, I’m very real and I very much live here.”

That earns him a scoff, “You’re a freeloader.”

“Excuse me?” He leans forward, elbows resting on the table.

You repeat it for him slower, “You. Are. A. Freeloader.”

“I heard you,” his eye almost twitches.

Leaning back in your chair, you cross your arms, looking away from him and out the window, “Then don’t act like you didn’t.”

“I could kill you,” he threatens.

You don’t feel inclined to take him seriously, “So could my neighbour, you’re not special.” Your gaze is fixed out the window, watching said neighbour walking to collect his mail. When you turn back to your unwanted companion his glare is pointed and very clearly unhappy which only has you rolling your eyes at him, “You’d really kill me because I called you a freeloader?”

A quiet hum leaves him, “I’m considering it.”

“Drama queen,” it’s murmured but you know he heard it, especially if his growing scowl is anything to go off.

“Shouldn’t you be more scared or something?”

Your eyes squint at him, leaning over the table slightly as you provoke, “Oh, I bet you’d love that.”

“I would actually,” he almost sounds exasperated which only has you growing amused.

You decide to try bargaining with him, “Listen, if you’re gonna freeload here the least you can do is stay out of my way.”

“I liked you better last night when you were scared.”

You take a mouthful of your breakfast, pointing at him with your spoon when you reply, “Well, I liked you better a few months ago when it was significantly easier to ignore your presence.”

It’s quiet, no reply coming from him, leaving it up to you to continue the conversation if you want answers, “What do you even want? Because if you really do plan on killing me I’ll tell you now that the next person who lives here will not be as cute as I am.”

He deadpans at your joke, “You’re hilarious.”

“I know,” you flick your head like you’re flipping luxurious hair.

Already seemingly sick of you when he grumbles, “I already regret showing myself to you.”

“Good, this is much more of an ordeal for me you know? Not only do I know ghosts exist now but there is some guy in my house all the time, how am I meant to go on with my daily life?”

“Not really my problem,” he brushes off your concern.

Being honest, you say, “I don’t like you.”

To which he returns with a big grin, “I’ll grow on you.”

ִֶָ𓂃 ༘࣪࿐

You wish so badly that he didn’t, but he does, he grows on you. It’s nice coming home to someone, having someone to talk to while you eat or do mundane chores. It’s been a few months now and you thought he would be more of a bother, but you think you might be the one bothering him.

It’s funny how you didn’t realise how lonely you were until you finally had someone to spend time with. Early on he told you his name, Toji, he told you he used to live here, and that he died in the house. He still hasn’t disclosed to you how he died, and you don’t want to intrude by asking so you don’t. He’s still quite young so you imagine it wasn’t by natural causes which only deters you from wanting to probe for any more information from him.

If you’re being honest with yourself, you’d recognise that you’re beginning to crush on a ghost but since that seems like something so far out of the realm of ever possibly happening, you squash down the feelings. And when that doesn’t work, you try avoiding him, which is not exactly a fool proof plan when he’s the ghost haunting your house who doesn’t need to sleep.

For the third weekend in a row, you’re sneaking into your own house late, having been out all night with friends just to avoid spending the whole day with Toji. It’s his fault though! He’s hot and also a huge flirt and he makes your heart race, and none of these thoughts are holy so you decided to just avoid him altogether.

Kicking your shoes off at the door, you sneak through the house and into your room, thinking you’ve successfully changed and gotten into bed without him noticing. Victory short lived when he appears next to you on your bed, his weight causing the mattress to dip suddenly.

You scrabble for a second, not expecting the shift, body falling into his. Sheepishly, you look up at him, hand pressed to his chest trying to give yourself some space to think, not used to this proximity. You purposefully keep your distance from him, and it feels like he purposefully gets in yours.

He’s quick to get to the point, “Where were you?”

“Out with some friends…” Hesitance clear in your answer.

“Again,” It’s a question but it doesn’t really sound like one.

“…Yeah.”

His eyes scan your face intently and it has you shying away from him, “You’re being odd,” he states abruptly.

Immediate response being defensiveness, “Because I’m going out with my friends?”

“No, that’s not it, it’s the frequency, you used to spend most weekends home alone.”

Still, you can’t get used to how he knows these things about you, “Okay we’re just gonna ignore that you know that about me.”

Again, he doesn’t beat around the bush, “Don’t change the topic, you’ve been avoiding me.”

Gaze averting his as you stumble out a small, “That’s not true.”

His eyes meet yours with a pointed look, clearly not believing your half assed lie, “Come on, doll, if I’ve done something to upset you I’d prefer you just say it.”

“You’ve not done anything,” you jump to assure him, not wanting him to feel bad for no reason. “You’re the best ghost anyone could ask to haunt their house.”

Ignoring your attempt at humour he pushes for more, “Then what is it?”

An awkward pause shared between you as you try to think of an excuse, “Uhm… My friends… have just been wanting to see me more is all, it has nothing to do with you…”

“Mhm…” you can tell he doesn’t believe you, but he can’t go much further than this, he was as blunt as he could be and hit a brick wall. “Well, I want to see you more too.”

You roll your eyes gently at that, ignoring the excitement his words illicit, “Toji, we live together.”

Expression sour when he retorts, “It doesn’t feel like it lately.”

It’s cute how he’s almost pouting, it’d be cuter if you didn’t feel completely awful for ghosting him. You still get to see each other throughout the day but you work during the week, and you haven’t been spending much free time with him lately, often opting for going out instead. If avoiding him like this is going to keep making him feel bad you don’t want to keep doing it.

Taking the safe option, you choose to make the time spent together productive, “I’ll be home this weekend… I have a bunch of laundry to do though so it might not be fun.”

His smile is crooked, “Alright… got my eyes on you though, doll,” he means it in a light-hearted way, but you think you’ve actually hurt him.

“Okay…” you wait a moment for him to leave but he doesn’t, you’re still too close to him and he’s not moving. The silence in the room deafening as you can only look at him and wait for his next move.

When he doesn’t say anything, you prompt, “Toji… are you gonna leave?”

“Do you want me to?” His gaze is on your lips, hand reaching to cradle your face and just when you think he might lean in to kiss you, he pecks the top of your head, “Night.” It’s the last thing he says before he disappears into thin air.

Your heart feels like it might explode, beating a mile a minute at how he seemed to almost kiss you. The disappointment that settled in you when he didn’t uncomfortable, were you just reading into things or did he actually want to kiss you.

The covers get pulled up over your head as you grumble to yourself, how the hell are you meant to sleep now… he’s confusing you and it’s so unfair. You’d probably get over your feelings for him if he didn’t also show interest in you like this, he’s giving you hope, and it doesn’t feel good.

ִֶָ𓂃 ༘࣪࿐

Ever since the night Toji almost kissed you, it’s all you’ve been able to think about, almost operating like a zombie as you go through the motions at home and at work. Every time you saw him it felt like your skin was on fire, like you might spontaneously burst into flames.

This week has been especially trying because it seems like he actually has been watching you closer than usual. Normally he would give you some more space, but it was almost like every time you were in one of the main areas of the house, he was also there. He’s not the type you’d peg for being clingy but then again, you didn’t take your house to be the haunted kind so what do you know.

Getting lost in your thoughts while fiddling with your poor-quality sink isn’t the best course of action, but it doesn’t seem like you’re making any good choices in life right now. While trying to tighten the faucet by hand, it decides to punish you for being absent minded and sprays water all down your front.

Quickly, you rush to stop the water, all kinds of expletives leave you as your hands slip over the metal. When the water finally stops your hands grab the edge of the counter, slumping against it.

A shiver runs down your spine before you hear him speak, “You really should pay more attention to what you’re doing.”

“It’s not my fault, this sink sucks!” If you had slightly less emotional regulation you might stomp your feet about it all.

He laughs at your frowny face, “I always meant to get it replaced.”

Turning to face him, you huff, “This sink is the bane of my existence.”

“It’s not all bad,” his eyes track down your front, “I did get to see you in a wet shirt because of it.”

“You’re unbearable,” you groan.

“And yet you’ve never tried to exorcise me.”

“You know what, that’s a good option to keep in mind, thanks,” you smile sarcastically at him before wandering down the hall, muttering to yourself, “Well… at least it’s laundry day today I guess…”

Toji is hot on your trail, not speaking, just following you around the house as you collect all your laundry. If you had to describe it, you’d probably say he was hovering, like he’s waiting for you to crack and tell him why you’ve been avoiding him.

You would love to talk to him about what’s bothering you but how exactly does one go about telling the hot ghost that you coexist with that you want to jump his bones, there must be a wiki how page for that online somewhere. The absurdity of the situation is almost enough to make you laugh, almost.

“You in there, doll?” Toji’s voice shocks you back down to Earth.

Dropping the shirt you’d been holding for too long into the washer as you reply, “Hmm? Yeah… I’m here, what’s up?”

“You know you’ve always been a little spacey, but it’s been worse lately.” His head tilts at you, like he’s observing your behaviours.

Throwing a glance his way as you refute, “I am not spacey.”

He looks away from you like he’s avoiding engaging with you on that topic any further, “I’m just asking if you’re okay, Something on your mind?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” dragging out the word as you squint at him.

The exasperated tone he uses is not lost on you, “Then why have you been avoiding me?”

“Didn’t we establish last week that I haven’t been?” Ignoring his stare as you continue to load the washing machine.

“No, we established that you’re lying about not avoiding me.”

The persistence he displays is almost admirable, “You’re annoying.”

“So are you but less so lately,” response quick on his tongue.

“Maybe I’ve reflected on my previous ways and decided to be a better person.” He scoffs at that, and you turn to face him, looking him in the eyes, “What do you want from me?”

“I just wanna know why you don’t spend time with me anymore,” he leans into your space, grin wide and taunting, “You get scared or something?”

“Of you?” brow quirking at him, “Please,” eye roll following your words.

He sighs at you, backing out of your space, “You’re unbearable.”

“That’s my line,” you shoot back, focusing on your laundry again.

A quick hand snatches the garment you’re holding out of your grasp, his attempt at getting your attention back on him. It works because you’re facing him fully now, “You’re childish.”

“Woah,” he looks at what he’s holding like he’s only just noticed what he had grabbed, “These are cute.”

If the ground could swallow you whole, you wish it would happen now because why is your unwanted roommate holding a pair of your panties while smiling at you like the cat that got the canary.

“Toji,” you warn.

He hums back at you, almost indulgent, “Yes, doll?”

“Give them back.”

Dangling your underwear in between the two of you by a single digit, he considers, “I don’t know… I think I like these; I might keep them.”

The expression on your face incredulous, “And what? Wear them?”

“I’m sure I’ll find some use for them,” suggestion written all over his face in a way you wish you weren’t attracted to.

“Toji.” A second warning.

Again, his reply is the same, “Yes, doll?”

“They’re dirty.”

“Really?” He looks to them, “Want me to check?” Hand bringing them close to his face before you snatch them away.

“Don’t be gross!” You chastise him, chucking the panties into the machine with more force than necessary.

Your skin feels hot from embarrassment, how can he be so shameless? It’s uncomfortably quiet in the laundry room as you silently stew while looking down into the washer.

Toji sounds tentative when he speaks, “Are you mad?”

He’s met with an immediate glare at his stupid question, “Well I’m not happy!” Brows pinched and feeling like your head is about to explode when you struggle to get out, “How– how can you be so… so? So shameless.”

“Being dead doesn’t hurt,” he says casually.

You can’t tell if that’s an attempt at humour or if he’s being serious but if you had to guess you’d say it’s a little of both, “I can’t believe I’ve been crushing on you, you’re so embarrassing. What does that say about me? attracted to a shameless ghost who does nothing but embarrass me.”

Your foot has started tapping against the floor with your frustrations, not even registering the blunder you made about outing your crush on him… you know, the thing you’ve been actively avoiding him over just to keep secret.

It’s not until he’s leaning into your space and asking, “You been crushing on me, doll?” That you realise the mistake you’d made.

“What?” You heard him perfectly fine. Only feigning ignorance in an attempt to think of a convincing cover.

There’s pride oozing from him, his grin growing by the second, “You just said–”

“–No, I didn’t,” there is no way to save this and so you fall back on blatantly lying.

He’s revelling in how flustered you are and it’s making it worse, “No, no, I heard you loud and clear. You’ve been crushing on me.”

Your hands move to either side your head, covering your ears as you try to block out what he’s saying, “I can’t hear you; I don’t know what you’re saying.”

Despite your actions, you can hear him perfectly. So, you hear him crystal clear when he borderline taunts, “You have a crush on the ghost haunting your house!”

You don’t say anything back, only staring at him as you wear all your embarrassment on your face.

His smile lessens, replaced by a kinder one, “Is that why you been avoiding me?”

Slowly turning to face him, you drop your hands and give a small nod, feeling all kinds of uncomfortable right now. The fact his immediate reaction was to be amused and prideful has you confused on just what he’s thinking about, does he only find your feelings funny? Does he not take them seriously? Or maybe you’d been overthinking it… it is just a crush after all.

You feel a little guilty over how your feelings have been making you act. He’s literally stuck with you and you’re making it awkward all because you find him attractive, “I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable… but it’s just a crush, I’ll get over it.”

You meant to offer him some kind of relief in saying that, but it doesn’t seem to give him any. A low hum coming from him as he moves in closer. Bending at the waist so he can eye you carefully, getting so close that you avoid his gaze, face hot at his proximity.

“What are you–”

“–You’d just get over me?” He asks. You can’t decipher his intent.

Not able to help the way you fumble over yourself when answering honestly, “I– well… I mean… eventually? Right?”

Almost doubtful when he counters, “And you think I’m just gonna let that happen?”

The way in which he says it takes you aback, eyes meeting his when you utter a succinct, “Stop.”

A singular brow raises at you, “Stop what?”

“Stop flirting with me,” it’s unfair and only serving to confuse you further.

“Why?”

Expression somewhere between a pout and scowl when you grumble, “You are the most exasperating man I have ever had the displeasure of trying to have a conversation with.”

“And yet you have a crush on me,” his eyebrows raise.

Swapping back to denial is your solution, “I just changed my mind; I don’t have a crush on you anymore.”

Still, he flirts, “And there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”

“Nope,” you pop the word at him, “All my feelings vanished just like that.”

“That’s a damn shame,” he’s smirking as he looks at your lips before flicking back to your eyes. One of his hands reach to cradle the side of your face, mouth hovering overs yours, so close to kissing you but ultimately not moving any more than that.

Your eyes had closed at the way he leaned in but when you don’t feel his lips on yours you open them to see the way he’s looking down his nose at you, smug smile ever present on his stupid face.

“You’re being cruel,” and he his, he knows it too, it’s entirely purposeful on his behalf and you can only take so much.

His thumb brushes your lower lip gently, still so unbearably close when he asks, “How so?”

“Let me go.” You huff at him, “You’re so distracting, go haunt a different part of the house. I need to finish my laundry.”

“Why are you so stubborn?” His words are accompanied by an eyeroll.

“Why are you so–”

You’re cut off abruptly by his lips colliding with yours, clearly uninterested in further back and forth. Especially since it seems like you’re not willing to give up and just tell him you want him to kiss you. When you’re not immediately pulling away, he’s moving his body closer to yours, other hand large on your back as he pulls you towards him.

Lips so much more careful than you would’ve expected of him. Searching and relentless but not rough, not yet anyways. Your hands move to his shoulders and grip him, giving into him completely, his kiss taking your breath away.

The hand on the side of your face is manoeuvring you how he likes, wanting to deepen the kiss. Tongue licking into your mouth, it sends shivers down your spine, involuntary moan leaving you.

You aren’t really registering it but he’s walking you back, sandwiching you between the washing machine and his large body. Hand previously on the small of your back now on your hip, pulling at your flesh. Then slipping it under your shirt and resting against your skin, his touch eliciting goose bumps.

He tilts your head back and trails his lips down your neck, nipping at you as he goes. Your pants filling the room, small and quiet moans mixed in with your breaths. You can hardly think, too focused on how it feels to have him touching you.

Suddenly gasping a moan when he bites at your neck a little harder than you were expecting, your thighs rubbing together at it. His movements grow more frenzied, lips back on yours in full force, tongue in your mouth depriving you of your air.

So much so that you have to push him back by his shoulders, chest moving rapidly as you catch your breath. Eyes wet and glassy when you look up at him, brows pulled up as you struggle to focus in on his face.

“Sorry, I got a bit carried away,” he’s staring at you, awestruck by the stupid look on your face.

You ignore his apology, “Kiss me again? Please?”

“How can I refuse when you ask like that?” The answer is he couldn’t, not when your eyes are all glassy from his lips.

The kiss is messy and despite the coolness of him, hot. Your arms are wrapped around his neck now, pulling him down into you. Both his hands on your hips, playing with the waistband of your pants, fingers tickling against your skin.

Parting to speak against your ear, “You gonna let me touch you, doll?”

Nodding at him, “Yeah…”

He hums at you thoughtfully, “You crushing on me again or am I imagining the hearts in your eyes right now?”

“You ruin everything– ah–” words interrupted by his hand slipping into the front of your pants and underwear.

His fingers slip through your folds, tracing your clit softly, “Am I still ruining everything?”

“Oh!– noo, no you’re not,” your words are breathless as you shake your head, not wanting him to stop.

“You know…” his grin is sly as he speaks to you lowly, “You’re awfully wet for someone you don’t have a crush on.”

Wanting him to stop talking, you turn your head and kiss him. Your tongue sliding into his mouth, the kiss desperate and chaotic. Lips connected by a string of saliva when you pull back.

Your words are saturated in sarcasm but completely true, “I have a big fat crush on you, Toji, are you happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” he smiles brightly, finger probing at your entrance, “In fact, I might just reward you.” As he finishes his sentence, his digit is pushing into you, biting his lip at how you gasp against him. “You know, you’re really cute like this, all breathless and struggling to take a finger.”

“Such a mean ghost,” you sulk.

“You’re meaner, avoiding me all because of a stupid crush,” his finger crooks inside you, almost knocking you over, “If you’d just told me about it we could’ve had fun so much sooner, you been depriving me of this sweet cunt.”

Your legs are feeling shaky under you, “How was I supposed to– hah– know?”

“I flirt with you relentlessly and follow you around all day like a damn puppy and you think I don’t wanna fuck you?” He chuckles humourlessly, “Shit, doll, if you needed it to be more obvious all you had to do was tell me.” A second finger joins his first, scissoring them to open you up, “I’d drop to my knees just to please you.”

His words make you dizzy, the idea of him on his knees and lapping at your pussy damn near capable of killing you. Your stomach flutters with butterflies at how willing he is to make you feel good.

He can feel the way your cunt clenches down on his fingers, his chest squeezing with how reactive you are to him, “Oh? You liked that, doll? Like the idea of me licking your pussy?”

“I need you, please,” your lip quivers, shudders running through your body at how his thumb rubs over your clit.

A single peck is pressed to your wobbly lower lip, “You already got me.”

“Noo– oh God–” You’re trying so hard to get your words out but he’s touching you so insistently, his fingers reaching all the perfect spots so effortlessly you might go blind. Your head rolls back as you gasp out, nails clawing down the front of his chest.

Slurred words and jumbled moans leaving you as his hand speeds up. It’s an active effort to get out, “Wan– want your– ah! dick, please.”

He laughs like he’s had the wind knocked out of him, “Only ever need to ask.” His hand is drawing back from your core, a pathetic whimper leaving you at the loss. “Turn around for me, doll.”

You do as he says, turning around to face the washing machine, one of his hands reaching forward to shut the lid. His body moves in close behind you, his front pressing into your back, firm erection against your ass.

His lips brush against your ear, “Hold on and bend over.”

“You’re so demanding,” you mutter as you do what he says.

He counters, “And you’re so obeying.” You can feel the air of his smugness radiating from behind you.

Both his hands tug at your pants, slowly pulling them down your body until they drop onto the floor. You can’t help but feel exposed and impatient, your panties stuck to your core with the arousal that drips from you. Toji’s finger creeps into the gusset, pulling them back before letting go, teasing you for his own enjoyment.

Straightening up, you try to turn to face him and tell him off for being a massive tease but he’s too close to you. An arm is wrapping around your front as his head tucks into your neck, “You going somewhere?”

“I thought since you seem to be indecisive I’d leave while you think about your next move,” you bite back.

He’s pushing your front back down, “You always this impatient?”

“You always this big a tease?” Your hands reach out to hold the machine again.

“Always got something to say don’t you?”

“Toji, I’m so wet and needy and if you don’t do something soon I’m going to finish without you and I’ll make you watch.”

Quietly and under his breath, he utters, “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Before you get a chance to spin around and question him on that further, he’s pulled his pants down and your panties to the side. His cock head stretching you open, your fist slams down into the washer as you struggle to accommodate his size. Stuttered gasps and whines leaving you as he presses forward inch by inch. One of your hands has to reach back and rest on his pelvis, stopping him, needing a moment to catch your breath and get used to taking his size.

You pant out to him, “Wh– what did you mean?”

“Fffuck–” he’s struggling to maintain focus when you’re gripping him that tightly, “What?”

You’re trying to control your breathing as you ask again, “What did you mean by ‘wouldn’t be the first time’?”

“Doll, I’ve been in this house since long before you moved in,” he leans down to you, his lips brushing against your ear, “I’ve seen you fucking yourself with your toys.”

Involuntary whimper leaving you, your hips rutting back into him, “You’re such a perv.”

“Oh yeah, the fuckin biggest,” he groans at how your pussy flutters around him, “Loved when you would come home high and dry from a date, your cunt drenching your dildo with just how needy you were, squirming in your bed while fucking yourself.”

You hate how turned on you are at the thought of him watching you masturbate, “Move, please.” Hand moving away, giving him room.

He’s drawing back only to fuck his hips forwards, “Hnnn– and now I get to see how you coat my cock, such a messy fucking thing.”

Toji’s hips falter at how your cunt sucks him in, so greedy and sopping wet that it’s making his head spin. He can’t tell if it’s been too long or if you’ve got the best pussy he’s ever fucked but it’s probably somewhere in between and he can’t be bothered to think too hard about it right now.

“Is it– hah– is it nearly in?” You whine back at him, not sure how much more of him you can fit.

He’s steadily rocking his cock into you, filling you more each time he thrusts forward, “Not– not quite.”

Maybe you should let him take the lead with this but you’re impatient and horny and he’s taking too long and you just want him so deep inside you that you feel him in your guts. So, in your fuzzy brain, you decide it’s a good idea to fuck your hips back as he moves forward. He bottoms out, his pelvis slapping into your ass but you’re left breathless, squirming as you grapple with how full of him you are.

“Oh my God– what– why are you so– hng– why are you big?” Tears spring to the corners of your eyes, feeling so completely overwhelmed. Pussy twitching around him as your legs shake.

He can’t believe you’d done that, letting out a long-drawn-out groan like he’d been gut punched, “Fuck– greedy fucking thing, you couldn’t– hnn– couldn’t wait for it? Was trying to take it easy on you and your tight little hole.”

His cock is jerking violently inside you, so unbelievably turned on. Your cunt snug around his dick nearly has him believing this is his heaven and you’re his own personal angel. He’d take it for truth if the sight of your hole stretched around him weren’t so sinful, your panties tugged to the side and soaked.

His voice is strained when he checks in, “You good, doll?”

“Mhm, yeah I– mmph– I’m good,” you’re giving him the go ahead, punctuating your words with your hips wiggling back into him. It almost knocks him out, seeing the way your ass jiggles.

His hands are gripping your hips tight, holding you still as he draws back. His first thrust ruthless, forcing you forward, brain taking a second to realise that the loud moan reverberating in the room was you.

“You’re gonna be the second death of me,” he says through stifled grunts.

You are completely lacking in any kind of retort to throw back at him, only able to dumbly hum at him so he knows you heard him. The way he’s driving his dick into you has you twitching and scratching at the lid of the washer, almost embarrassed by how drunk on his cock you are.

There are so many thoughts in your head and also none at all, “Toji, it feels so– oh!– feels so good– I can’t–”

“You’re doing so good, taking it all so well,” he sounds wrecked, words breaking off at the end. “Pussy so fucking– ffuck– so creamy– ohhh–”

Toji’s eyes stay locked on how you take him, chest fluttering at how he’s fucked you open. Cock drenched in your slick, dripping down your legs. So relentless in his pursuit that he just knows your ass is gonna hurt tomorrow from the consistent smack! smack! Of his pelvis slapping into you. Not even a question of if his finger marks will be imprinted onto your hips, the memory of him fucking you so well something he’s not going to let you forget.

He finally has you full and squirming under him, he’s not going to let it be a forgettable experience. Determined to fuck you so good that you’re begging him to do it all over again. He already wasn’t going to let you go but especially not now, not when having you feels this fucking divine. The borderline obsession he feels for you growing by the second, fuelled by how pliant you are for him.

All his thoughts are coming a million miles a second, all of them about you and how bad he’s wanted you, how ecstatic he is that he’s finally balls deep inside you. “You’re so perfect, feel so– hnng– feel so perfect–”

“Careful Toji– hah– I might think you like me,” you joke at him.

The smirk he’s wearing can be felt even though you can’t see him, his laugh short, “Oh I fucking looove you, pretty thing. You’re never getting rid of me.”

You don’t know if that confession is one you can take seriously or if he’s just severely pussy drunk but its effect on you doesn’t change, your cunt clamping down around him as your chest stutters. The tears you had been holding back finally slipping down your cheeks, so overwhelmed you’re seeing stars, hell, you might be hearing things.

His hand reaches to your face and squishes your cheeks between his thumb and fingers, pulling you back to him, your back arching lewdly for him. His tongue licking at the tears tracking down your face, “Crying over my dick, doll?” His words are laced with a sickening kind of affection for you, “So sweet for me.”

His other hand grabs at the bend of your knee, pulling it up. Despite your shaky hands still resting on the washer, all your weight is basically being supported by him. Your head falls back onto his chest He uses the access to kiss you messily, tongue licking at yours, swallowing down the moans you let out.

Still, his hips drill into you, never letting up for even a second. Obscene squelching sounds of him fucking your gooey cunt filling the room, followed by the sharp slaps of skin hitting skin. Your stomach is pulling taut, getting so fucking close to finishing, vision blurred by all the tears in your waterline.

“Don’t fight it,” he murmurs into your skin, encouraging you, “Let it– fuck!– let it happen.”

“Feels– feels too– ah!– it feels different,” it feels too good, too much, “You need to– need to stop, it doesn’t feel right.”

It sounds like he gets excited, not even a little concerned, “You’re doing so good, doll.”

“It’s not right–”

“–It’s fine,” he tries to offer comfort, “Trust me.”

Your legs shake violently, the build-up of your orgasm foreign and like it might have you passing out. As different as it feels, you trust him and let it happen, let yourself get fucked over the edge and into bliss. Your orgasm rips through you, moans tumbling freely and loudly, your body shaking from the force of it. Temporarily it feels like you lose sight, unseeing but feeling your cold tears against your hot cheeks.

Cunt clenching down, hard, on his dick, coating him completely in your cum. Body twitching with the shocks of your orgasm, head full and spinning. With the amount of blood rushing in your ears, you can’t hear what he’s saying. Only after a few moments have passed are you able to begin barley making out what he’s saying.

“Fffuck– that’s it, look at that,” Toji can’t hide the absolute pleasure in his voice even if he tried to, completely ecstatic at the sight before him.

You’re breathless and limp, letting him hold your lower half up, head lolling against his chest. Able to feel the vibrations of his moans against you, in a way it’s soothing to you.

“Doll, look down,” he prompts, hand guiding you down.

You whine in protest but look down anyways, an absolute mess everywhere. Lower halves drenched after your orgasm. “Oh my–” when he lets go of your cheeks, your head flops back onto his chest, head spinning.

“Hah– squirted everywhere,” he smiles into your skin, “All for me– hnn–”

He’s in love with the fact he’s managed to get you to cum like that without even really trying, his ego getting a boost he surely didn’t need. His own orgasm so close it bites at his skin, his hand gripping your thigh tight, pulling at your flesh. Free hand sliding under your shirt and grabbing at your breast, shamelessly groping you.

Shudders wracking his body as he cums suddenly, almost taken off guard by how quickly it happens. Cock twitching as he dumps his seed deep inside you, taking a moment to breathe before pulling back slowly, watching as his dick leaves you covered in both your orgasms.

Carefully, he places your leg back down on the ground, leaving you to stand on your own only for your legs to wobble and almost give out under you. If Toji hadn’t been right behind you, you would’ve fallen to the floor. He pulls your panties back into place before hoisting you up onto the washing machine, letting you sit while he puts his dick back into his pants.

You watch him move, all dazed and fucked out, pleasantly placated. His eyes meeting yours when he’s fully clothed, a big smile spreading across his face when he sees the mess he’s made of you.

Leaning in towards you, he asks, “Still got that big fat crush on me?”

“Uhm… I don’t know…” you pretend to think about it, like you don’t know if you like him or not.

He gives you a quick and soft kiss, “How about now?”

“I think… maybe,” you smile lazily at him.

His brow raises, “Maybe?”

“Yeah… definitely maybe still have a big fat crush on you,” you nod once, sure.

He’s grinning when he sighs, “You’re unbearable.”

“That’s my line,” you retort.

You’re both playing dumb but you both know you got it bad for each other and Toji is not going to let you get away with avoiding him again. Not after he’s gotten a taste of you.

𝐀/𝐍: this took longer than what i said it would and i'm sorry for that but i also was only planning for this to be a drabble... i have issues ToT anyways !! i hope you enjoyed !! happy almost halloween !!

[⚠︎] — 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of lovelivision

★ ⁝ my works are not to be used for AI under any circumstances

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rafescvntyclubgf · 2 months ago

Text

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝔽𝕚𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟: 𝔾𝕚𝕗𝕥 𝔼𝕩𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖

𝙾𝚗𝚕𝚢𝙵𝚊𝚗𝚜!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: virgin!reader (<- very sweet and doesn't fetishize it), onlyfans!rafe, swearing, dirty talk, kissing, unprotected p in v, praise, cum tasting, fingering, first time, solo male on camera handjob, panty sniffing/tasting, mask-kink, reader gives rafe suggestive polaroids

All of my asks got deleted 💕😭 so I'm not sure who requested this, but thank you! This was not a kinkmas ask, but I made it one 😋 The premise is the reader has always had a crush on her neighbor rafe but was too shy to make a move. When his package gets dropped off at her door by mistake, she decides to make her move and learns a little more about the hot man next door.

Masterlist

Reader’s POV:

The sun pours through the window onto the floor as you hum with the song on the radio. You kick up some dust with your broom, sweeping the floor, but your mind drifts to him… again. Rafe Cameron. Your little crush had gone on for weeks, and you’ve no more than said ‘hi’ to the man.

He’s divine: handsome, broad-shouldered, and muscular, with messy bed-tousled hair and the perfect five o’clock shadow. His eyes… the most perfect shade of blue. He had no problem keeping eye contact where yours faltered. His swagger is undeniable, and his confidence oozes. This fact’s even more evident in your run-ins in the hallway.

He’s untouchable… Completely out of your league, or so you not so lovingly told yourself. But that didn’t stop you from stealing glances when you could: catching him in the morning as he went out for his jog, running into him on the elevator in his sleek suit on his way home from the office.

Knock. Knock.

You walk over to the door, open it, and see a little pile of packages left behind. You pick them up off the floor, cutting each one open individually, your heart skipping when you visit the final one. It’s a festive UPS box, red and green for the holidays, but the name strikes you the most.

Masked Cam… The address wasn’t yours, it was his. As you slide on your shoes, your pulse quickens, deciding what to do next. Knock on the door and leave it? Knock on the door and stay? This is my chance.

You grab the box and smooth your hair, taking a breath before lifting your fist and knocking on the door. His heavy feet move on the other side, making your heart beat a little faster as the steps get closer and closer.

“Hey,” he greets you casually, smiling that perfect smile that sends chills down your spine. “What’s up?” He asks playfully as his lips curl into a perfect smile.

“Uh… Umm,” you swallow the lump in your throat, fluttering your lashes at the beautiful man before you, realizing you had never been quite this close. His rich cologne fills your nose, clouding your mind further.

“Sweetheart?” He asks, trying to pull you back down to earth, but the name only sends you into a tailspin.

“I-I… This. Shit,” you giggle, and he laughs lightly with you, leaning into his doorframe, making it worse; the man looking like every book boyfriend fantasy you ever had.

“Was this left at your door?” He asks gently, taking the words out of your mouth and the trembling box out of your hands.

“Yes,” you break your silence. “It was left at my place.”

“Well, thank you…” He draws out the word, hoping for a name to fill in the blank.

“Y/n l/n,” you say softly.

He repeats your name, making butterflies swirl in your stomach. “I don’t think I ever caught your name… I’m Rafe, by the way; again, sorry if I introduced myself already,” he says warmly. He introduced himself a while back, so you can’t fault him for not remembering since you didn’t return the gesture yourself. “Well, this was really sweet of you, y/n…” He smiles as he looks down at the box for the first time. His eyebrows lift slightly, and he tucks the box to his side.

“Of course… Well, I won’t keep you.”

He perks up, giving you a little nod and a smile that leaves you feeling weak in the knees. “Have a good night, y/n.”

”You too,” you manage before retreating down the hall, turning the corner as your excitement bubbles in your chest.

Your fingers tremble as you press the key in your lock, pushing into your empty apartment again. You let out a little squeal of delight, proud that you got more than a simple ‘hi’ out, even though the beginning was rough. The rest was perfect…

You flop down on your bed, replaying the moment in your mind. Burying your face in your pillow with embarrassment at first, swooning the next. Masked Cam… He’d looked at the name on the front of the package, and something shifted briefly—only for a moment— but you caught it.

Grabbing your phone, you pull up your browser and type in the name, your curiosity getting the better of you. Shit. Your hand slams over your mouth.

OnlyFans; Masked Cam @maskedcamxxx

You click on the page, jaw-dropping at the banner alone. You recognize Rafe's body from his morning runs in the summer; the man’s always jogging shirtless with the same gold chain on his chest. You can’t see his face, mostly covered in a black ski mask; all that’s visible are his piercing blue eyes and pillowy pink lips but it’s him…

Your heart races as you click into his page, a sharp gasp leaving your lips. Heat pools in your cheeks as you see your handsome neighbor in nothing but a mask and sweats with a catalog of pictures and videos.

Without thinking, you subscribe to the channel under a fake name one minute and devour his content the next. You watch all the free videos first, just him in a pair of grey sweats and his signature black mask rubbing himself over his clothes. His arm and abs muscles flex with each stroke—the camera picking up every moan and groan that falls from his lips.

After you went through his library, you returned to his main page, debating what to do next. Your credit card burned a hole in your pocket; the blurry images only teased what you could see if you just entered those sixteen little numbers.

His socials… Does he have a TikTok page?

You follow the handle to TikTok, pulling up his page, eyes widening as you catch the red glowing ring around his pfp with LIVE underneath. Clicking into the Live, your stomach flips as you see him shirtless, with his mask covering his face, leaning into the camera to answer questions from the chat.

His head tilts slightly, lips curling into a smile. “Welcome, @firstnamelastname,” he greets you warmly, getting the notification that you have entered the conversation. The blood drains from your face. You quickly log out of TikTok, burying yourself in your pillows.

The next day, you grab your coffee and keys and head out fast for work, already running five minutes late. You had fallen asleep shortly after the TikTok mishap, apparently foregoing your alarm in the process. You stumble slightly, tugging on one shoe and then the next.

You open the door, and your heart leaps in your chest as you almost walk right into the vase of flowers on your welcome mat. Your heart swells as you lean down, pick it up, and quickly search for a note, a larger part of you assuming it was a mistake again.

It was nice meeting you yesterday @firstnamelastname

Adrenaline courses through your veins, the already hectic morning getting even crazier as your mind starts to race. There’s no way he couldn’t put two and two together. I dropped off the package with his OnlyFans name, I went on his OnlyFans account, I got his TikTok handle, I went into his Live, he remembered my name from our conversation, and recognized my TikTok handle. Shit. Shit. Shit.

You set down the flowers on the counter, feeling your anxiety and excitement peak. He knows that I exist and that I know the man under the mask… Oh my god.

Later that night, you pushed out into the hallway again, just like you had the other day, this time with a little wrapped gift in your hands. You set it down on his doormat, rechecking the message.

I thought you might like a change of color @firstnamelastname

Lifting your fist, you knock on the door, quickly retreating down the hall and disappearing behind your door as you draw a deep breath.

It was done… You saw him walk to his apartment on his way home from work, and unless he was taking a shower or something, he had the gift in his hands.

You tried not to think about it as you sat at the kitchen table, eating dinner. The entire last two days had been such a turn of events. And none of that would have happened if you hadn’t stepped out of your comfort zone and taken a risk.

Looking up from your plate, you see the bouquet in the middle. Your mind flooded with thoughts of Rafe and what it would be like the next time you saw him.

You clean up your dishes and walk toward your bedroom, anxious to see what he’s up to and if he’s going Live again. To your excitement, he is. Your cheeks burn from your smile as you see him lounged back on the couch, just like he was the night before, his black ski mask exchanged for something red.

The description of his Live is titled "New Mask—New Content." Check it out, Princess. You read and reread it… That’s an invitation, and you took it.

The next morning you’re late again, but this time, it’s intentional. You let yourself sleep in after your long night… It was intoxicating seeing him that way. He was wearing the mask you bought, taking videos he knew you would watch. It felt so intimate… Even if everyone else saw it, it felt like he was making it for you.

You step into the hallway, smiling as you see another gift—a white apparel box with a blood-red bow. You lean down, grab it off the floor, and walk back into your apartment, feeling giddy.

Plucking out the little card on top, you pop it open and see the little message inside.

For you, princess. @maskedcamxx

You think back to the caption of the TikTok Live where he used that pet name. There is no doubt that he knows you know about his OnlyFans… You undo the bow and pull back the lid, heart hammering in your chest as you see the gift. Your eyes widen as you pull out the red lingerie.

That night, you got all dressed up, trembling with your Polaroid camera as you snap a few photos of yourself. Your heart flutters as you see the images—explicit, but nothing close to what Rafe posted regularly.

You can’t wait until the following day, craving his attention again. After watching a few of his videos, you take the lingerie off and get into your satin pajamas.

You saunter to his place a little slower, half-hoping he would catch you at the door.

That moment of confidence fades fast as you knock, resting the gift on the ground before moving back to your apartment. It was your boldest gift yet: four pictures and your sweet perfume sprayed all over a pair of the worn panties he bought you.

Yours for now, xoxo @firstnamelastname. Maybe I can get them back some day?

Later that night, you lay on your bed, pulling up OnlyFans, holding your breath as you waited to see if he left little crumbs for you. You bite your lip as you see the title of the newest upload…

Unboxing gifts from my girl.

My girl? Me? You click into the video, watching him sit back in the chair.

Rafe undoes the bow, pulling back the lid. Even though his face was mostly hidden, you could see how he smiled, and his eyes lit up when he saw what was inside.

“Goddamn,” he hums as he pulls out the Polaroids, deliberate movements, hiding the images from the camera—for his eyes only. He looks at each one, studying them carefully, reacting to each. Rafe lifts out the panties, eyes widening and rolling back as he looks at the mess. He draws the lace to his nose, inhaling your scent before tossing his head back.

Adrenaline courses through your veins as he lifts the card last, looking at your little message before looking at the camera. “Yeah, baby… You’re gettin’ these back when I’m done with ‘em.”

Rafe stands up from the couch, making you release a desperate moan as he tugs his sweatpants off his body before crashing back down on the seat again.

His cock slaps against his hard stomach, standing straight, his tip red and glistening with precum. He wraps his ringed hand around his dick, spreading his pre-release down his shaft with a deep groan.

Rafe starts to move his hand along his length, spitting on his cock for lube before taking your picture between his fingers. Rafe strokes a little quicker, his blue eyes falling slightly as his biceps strain from the effort.

“Fuck, princess,” he moans as he sets the picture down, reaching for your panties, taking them to his nose as he fists his dick.

Your eyes flutter as he surprises you completely, taking the lingerie in his mouth, sucking and biting down as he looks at the next picture. He moans around the lace, fighting to keep his eyes open.

His gold chain glints as his breathing quickens. His cock throbs as he lets go, wrapping the lace around the base of his cock, hissing at the contact before starting up again.

Rafe mumbles words of praise as he throws his head to the ceiling, jerking his dick with your panties wrapped snugly around him. With a deep moan, his fat tip spurts ropes of white, staining his abs, hand, and throbbing dick. His sticky cum rolls down his length, catching the lace.

He draws a deep, satisfied breath, dragging the panties off his cock, cleaning himself off with the lingerie before rolling his head back again as the video cuts to black.

Knock. Knock.

Your head snaps toward the door, and your body trembles as you step off the bed fast. You scramble toward the entry, excited for your next gift.

“Hi,” you gasp as you open the door, seeing Rafe standing before you with his mask off. His broad shoulders fill the frame of the door as his chest heaves.

The moment Rafe’s lips meet yours, the tension breaks, the little back-and-forth game the two of you had been playing for a few days comes to climax.

He kisses you hungrily like he has been thinking about this for a while, taking your breath away. His lips are soft, and his body language is commanding as he holds your cheeks. He leads you back into your apartment before slamming your door behind him.

Your body moves instinctively, tongue rolling with his as your body pulls him closer. You gasp against his lips as he lifts you into his strong arms, your arms wrapping around the back of his neck, deepening the kiss even more.

You can feel your body trembling with excitement and inexperience, just praying that he doesn’t feel it himself. He groans against your lips, the sound vibrating through your body, going straight to your core.

”Let me take care of you,” he mumbles between hungry kisses.

”Rafe, I—I…” You sigh before he sucks off your bottom lip. “I don’t know what I’m doing…”

He backs you against the wall, pushing his body into yours. His hard bulge presses against your sex, spurring a sound from your lips you’ve never heard before, even when you touched yourself. “You don’t need to know anything, alright? I got you.” You cup his cheeks in your hands, rubbing your thumbs against the stubble as he rolls his body into you. “Let me show you,” he mumbles, his voice thick and sweet like honey.

“Okay,” you whisper, giving him a gentle smile before pushing your lips against his again. He brushes a strap of your cami off your shoulders, then the next, tugging it off your body, the delicate material falling around your feet, leaving you feeling fully exposed.

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” he assure you as he takes off his shirt as well, making you feel a little more comfortable. Your fingers trace down his body, skimming over his cut abs, watching them flex as you pass over them nice and slow.

Rafe lays you down on your bed, rolling himself into you, crushing you under his weight. He pulls away from your lips, leaving you panting, pressing gentle kisses on your neck as his big hands roam your body.

His rough hand trails lower, making you smile against his lips in anticipation. He chuckles warmly, feeding off your excitement as his fingers slip under the hem of your silk pajama shorts.

"You’re gonna feel so good, princess," he murmurs, the warmth of his voice fanning across your neck, moving lower and lower. “You sure this is okay?” He whispers against your chest.

“Yes… Please,” you answer sweetly, reaching for a breath the next second as his big hand cups your pussy, his lips wrapping around your nipple, sucking and swirling his tongue.

Your breathing intensifies… You’ve always thought he was gorgeous, but seeing him like this is almost too much to bear. Rafe kisses lower, moving down your stomach as he pushes your panties to the side, circling his fingers on your clit before running them through your soaked slit, moan after moan pouring from your pretty lips.

“You like that, sweetheart?" He asks, but he already knows the answer as he watches you throw your head into the pillow, back arching off the mattress.

”Yes, fuck. Rafe, I love it,” you mewl as he swirls the pads of his fingers on your clit.

“Gonna get you ready for me. Okay?” He asks, his voice hoarse and hungry.

You nod quickly, biting your lip as you feel those same fingers shift lower; Rafe pushing two into your tight cunt, making you gasp and cry.

“Jesus Christ,” he groans as he crawls toward your lips, kissing you tenderly as he curls his digits inside you. He moves slowly, picking up the pace just like he did when he was stroking his cock. His thumb presses against your clit, making heat rise in your belly.

“Rafe,” you whimper, having memorized the feeling, not cumming around anyone’s fingers but your own, but you knew your body was about to give way.

“Cum for me, princess,” he whispers against your lips as your body tightens around him again, cumming around Rafe’s thick digits as your thighs shake.

Rafe looks down at you, lips parted. He breathes laboriously with you as he continues to work you with fingers until your body eases around him. You grab his wrist with a panting breath, pouting your lips with overstimulation, every fiber of your being wanting more.

Rafe lifts his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean, his eyes locked on yours until they fall to your lips, claiming you again. You taste yourself on his tongue, making you sigh blissfully as his taste melts with yours.

“I’m ready,” you whisper.

“Yeah?” He asks sweetly as he reaches down, tugging down his sweats. “You want my cock, princess.”

Your heart races as you hear his filthy words. Your mind screams ‘yes’ before your lips can catch up. “I need your cock, Rafe,” you answer breathily.

He wraps his hand around your wrist, guiding you to wrap your fingers around his thick length. You feel him warm and hard in your hands, his blood pumping with a steady beat. You move your hand higher and higher, wondering how you’ll fit it all inside, feeling your nerves rise slightly. The tips of your fingers move across his swollen head, feeling a tinge of sticky wetness. You bring it to your lips, sucking just like he did, making him release a lusty chuckle.

“Fuck, baby. You’re a natural, he praises, his lips moving closer with each word until he’s kissing you again.

You gasp into your kiss as his velvety tip toys with your slickness. Rafe teases your entrance, pushing in slightly making you both fuss. “You got this, princess. You ready… It’s gonna hurt for a second, but it’s gonna feel so fuckin’ good after that, I swear,” he hums.

Your hands wrap around his hips, nails digging into his ass, pulling him into you. Rafe pushes in slowly, inch by inch, his mouth falling open as your pussy clamps around him. Your sensitivity peaked, feeling every ridge and vein of his cock.

“You want me to keep going?” He asks.

You look down at the space that connects you as he pulls back slightly, his hard dick glistening with your arousal, noticing he’s only about halfway in. “Don’t stop,” you whisper.

Rafe smiles in reply, his muscles tightening as he holds himself up, sliding himself the rest of the way in, battling himself from throwing his hips like he’d like to. He fights against his primal urges, focusing only on you as the tears of discomfort glassing in your eyes turn into tears of pure pleasure.

“Not that bad, huh?” He asks as he leans down, kissing your tear-stained cheek before rubbing it away.

“No,” you whimper and giggle breathlessly. “Keep going,” you smile as you pull him back to your lips.

Rafe moves slowly at first, picking up the pace; using the sounds of your pleasure to guide his strokes.

“Wanna see you, baby. Is that okay?” He mumbles, and you nod in reply. Rafe pulls back, rising on his knees, holding your hips in his big hands.

He fucks into you harder, the new angle making that same sensation pool in your belly. “You look so good taking my dick, baby. Shit,” he praises as he reaches over, grabbing a pillow, lifting your hips only to stuff it underneath.

You cry out his name as he hits the perfect angle. You grab two fistfuls of sheets, breasts bouncing with each thrust of his toned hips.

“Feels so good,” you pant, throwing your eyes low again, watching the tip of his cock bulge ever so slightly in your tummy. Rafe also sees it, resting his big hand to feel it for himself. “Pussy’s so good… M’Not gonna last. Fuck—I need you to cum for me, just like you did before.”

Rafe pulls the pillow out from underneath you, lips crashing against yours, fingers finding your clit brushing quickly.

He moans against your lips as you feel his hip stutter, a warmth filling your tight cunt as he cums hard, the sensations pushing you over the edge. Rafe pumps his hips into you, muscles tight, not stopping until you are fully satisfied, collapsing on top of you when you sink into your pillow.

Rafe buries himself in your neck, breathing in your scent as he holds you tight.

“How was that, princess?” He mumbles as he kisses gently to your soft, sweet lips.”

”Perfect.”

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benedictscanvas · 1 year ago

Text

pretty boy, pretty girl - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

a/n: okay yes. it has been six months. which is actually mad to me, but there we are - whoops! i've been off following my dream and wrote this while procrastinating an assignment, so this is by no means a return!! honestly i was just itching to write it, but i don't know how much time i have for more - enjoy nevertheless <3

warnings: just a little bit of suggestion towards the end, reader is referred to as 'pretty girl' as the title implies amongst other pet names, quite a lot of swearing (some things don't change)

---

“Hi love.”

Jamie barely murmurs it as he walks past you, can’t help himself but to drag a palm along your back, one shoulder blade to the other, as he goes.

He knows he’s bold sometimes, but he swears it’s instinct. He glances back to see whether your expression holds any discomfort, but all he finds is your grin, a tiny wave. He continues on his path towards the canteen, knowing that your corridor conversation with Rebecca is probably important.

Somewhere between here and there, he decides to get your lunch, your usual, and sits alone on a table until you appear.

You do, three and a half minutes later. As soon as he sees you, the irrepressible urge to make you grin again is back with a vengeance. He waves you over to his table with a gesture to the food he’s got for you and- there it is again.

If he was a slightly smarter man, maybe he’d consider why all it took was the sight of him to draw your lips upwards, set your eyes alight.

“Thought I’d save y’ from the queue,” he speaks, still soft, in a tone he feels he only uses with you. You match his unnecessary low volume.

“Thanks, angel,” you say easily, and you must not see his stomach doing flips, “Too good to me, you are.”

“Shut up,” he deflects, wonders if you can see him fluster at your nickname for him, “Are you still coming tonight?”

You groan. He frowns, and you quickly correct.

“Sorry. It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, you sound proper convinced, an’ all.”

You chuckle, taking a bite out of your sandwich and taking a pause to chew. Jamie eats too, content to let you think before you speak. It was slowly teaching him to do the same.

“I’m just boring, Jamie. My favourite people are all under this roof, but usually they’re sober, you know?”

He often forgets you don’t really drink. Your friendship (however sour that word feels in relation to you) usually confined to these halls, to the pitch, to various football stadiums up and down the country. When they all get a chance to let loose, you’re very quick with the excuses, but he’s believed them blindly until this moment.

“Shit, y’ don’t drink, right? I can’t imagine that’s much fun in a club. I won’t tell anyone if you happen to come down with an illness or somethin’ this afternoon.”

You’re grinning at him again, all bright and sunny. It’s downright infectious, so Jamie nudges your foot with his on purpose and then apologises like it’s an accident.

“You’re alright,” you reassure, “I will join tonight. Even if it just proves to myself I’m not missing out on anything. Maybe Colin’s not as bad a drunk as I’ve been led to believe.”

Jamie winces.

“No, he is pretty bad,” he admits and then finally comes up with something to make you more comfortable, “Hey, what about this? I won’t drink either and we can spend the evening laughin’ at everyone else.”

You poke his hand and he tries not to drop his crisp packet.

“It’s everyone’s ‘relax and recharge’ night, Ted said. We both know you relax much easier with a few drinks in you. And I’d never judge anyone for that, I really hope it doesn’t come across like I’m judging any-“

“It doesn’t, sweetness,” he cuts in, “But actually, I’ll relax better if I’m one hundred percent positive that you’re relaxing too. What better way than judgin’ everyone else, together like?”

You purse your lips thoughtfully, mid-chew. He feels like he’s holding his breath, like he’s underwater and you’re in charge of the oxygen tank.

“Well, see how you feel when we’re there. It sounds lovely but only if you’re still up for it when we’re right next to a bar,” you say, still unconvinced. He wants to convince you fully, but he can’t decide if he should argue with you or kiss you silly before you speak again, “Hey, if not, I’ll buy you a drink?”

“Pretty sure that’s my line, love.”

“I said it, I meant it. Girls can buy drinks for pretty boys, you know.”

He thinks you might have removed his oxygen tank now. There’s some cruelty in that sentence but you don’t know you’re wielding it. He wills himself to flirt back even though it’ll only make him feel sick.

“Okay, pretty girl. One passionfruit J2O, please.”

Another grin. He’s so fucking fucked.

---

He’s been waiting for you for around forty minutes. He doesn’t know if that’s the normal amount of time you take to get ready, even if he wishes he knew, so he just waits, leaning against his car.

After fifty, he decides there’s no harm in just checking you’re alright and haven’t slipped on a sparkly floor that an evening cleaner has done a number on.

You mentioned going to the kit room to get changed, and he meets Will on his way there.

“Hey mate, you seen Y/N?”

Will looks paler than he’s ever been. Guilty. Jamie narrows his eyes and waits.

“Kit room.”

It’s all that Will says. When Jamie doesn’t walk off immediately, still waiting for an explanation for Will’s strange demeanour, Will turns around and legs it all the way down the corridor, turns left at the end and never returns.

Jamie shakes his head and continues in the direction of the kit room. The closer he gets, the more he hears. Muffled banging, shouting. He picks up the pace.

“Y/N? Love?”

“Jamie! Jamie, in here!”

Your voice floats out from the kit room and he hurries over. Still very confused, Jamie turns the door handle and finds the door won’t budge, however hard he shoves his shoulder against it.

“It’s locked, babe. Did you lock it?”

He hears your exasperated sigh and feels a little embarrassed.

“No I didn’t bleeding lock it! Well, I did, when I was getting changed, but then when I unlocked it my side it had been locked from the outside.”

Jamie struggled to put the dots together. Had Will locked you in? Judging by the running, he had… and he’d done it on purpose. A spark of anger shot down Jamie’s spine but he tried to convince himself there must be a reason.

Before he could, there was a hand on his on the door, pulling him away. It was being unlocked by another hand and then he was being shoved inside, hard enough to stumble against one of the benches. A piece of paper was thrown at his face and Jamie groaned as he heard the lock click back in place.

“What the fuck?” he muttered as he stood up fully, more dazed than angry now as he stared at the locked door.

“Jesus, Jamie, are you alright? Who the fuck was that?”

“I dunno,” he says, staring at the door as if it might have answers. Your hand on his face wakes him up, his eyes shifting to yours where you look him over with concern.

“You’re alright, though?”

You ask it like you need the answer, and Jamie needs you to stop trailing a finger along his hairline either way.

“Fine, love,” he assures you, patting the juncture between your shoulder and neck gently until your hands drop to your sides. Then he raises his voice, and he’s not really talking to you anymore, “Whoever’s locked us in here as some kind of joke won’t be fuckin’ alright though!”

No answer. He picks up the small piece of paper from the floor and reads it in his head.

Tell her, you prick.

He’s actually going to hit Roy with his car. Lightly, definitely not enough to damage him, but enough to really, really piss him off.

This was all some ridiculous attempt to make him tell you how he felt about you? Absolutely not. Never. He wouldn’t be coerced into something so delicate, so important.

“What’s it say?”

You’re peering over the top of the paper, but he folds it in two before you can read anything. His chuckle comes out strained.

“It says: Get fucking pranked. Must be Roy, he’s probably scared Will into helpin’ him, the fucker. I’m afraid it’s payback for putting all his socks on the ceiling last week, babe, an’ you’ve been caught in the middle.”

You pause, staring at your shoes. For some reason, you look far more forlorn than the situation calls for, but it’s gone before he can think about it further.

“On the ceiling?”

He nods and you giggle. It’s only as you step away from him in your laughter that he realises how close you had been. He should’ve savoured it.

It’s also only as you step away that Jamie finally gets a glimpse of your outfit and nearly reaches out to the nearby bench for strength. He’s never seen you in a v-neck anything before, let alone a dress, and he thinks it might do him in.

“You look good,” he says lamely, then tries again, “Great. Fan-fuckin’-tastic, I mean.”

“I like that last one,” you smile, ducking your head. He thinks, or rather hopes, you’re a little flustered, “Fan-fuckin’-tastic happens to be what I was going for.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, words gone as soon as he’d found them. And now he was staring. Shit.

“I like your suit,” you say, maybe breathless yourself. It must be his ears. You reach up as if you might fiddle with his lapel but just point towards it before your hand drops again. You practically fall down onto the bench you’re both stood beside and he follows, ever obedient, “Shame no one else will ever see it. How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?”

The suit isn’t for anyone except you. That’s what he’d say if he had any stupid bravery. He’s an awful coward, he thinks.

“Until Roy gets bored or Keeley finds out I reckon,” Jamie guesses, “Y’ wanna play I-spy?”

You sigh, but when he peeks at you out of the corner of his eye, you’re grinning your silly, lovely grin again.

“I spy with my little eye…”

---

It is around 11pm, when Jamie has not long fallen asleep against the jacket he had scrunched behind his head, that he feels your hand on his ankle. He can tell, as he wakes without opening his eyes, that you’re not trying to rouse him. The touch is light, feathery. Maybe an accident.

No, not an accident. It wouldn’t have lasted this long, and your thumb is drawing absentminded circles into his ankle bone. You think he’s asleep and you’ve reached out to hold him anyway.

He opens his eyes but doesn’t move. His legs are stretched out on the bench in front of him and you sit upright next his sock-clad feet, one hand on his bare ankle. You’re staring at a piece of paper so intently he wonders what could possibly be so interesting.

“This doesn’t say get fucking pranked, Jamie,” you murmur, and his hand flies to his jacket pocket. It must have fallen out when he slumped into a slumber. He’s sat up in a blink, watching the hand that had been so soothing, fall back at your side suddenly.

“I’m sorry. Shit. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“No, don’t,” you insist, still staring at the piece of paper. Instead of whirling on him for answers, you reach calmly into one of the boot cubbies beside your head and pull out a piece of paper from one of the boots. You chuck it at him without looking.

He unfolds it with careful, if shaky, hands.

Tell him, you silly shit.

It takes him an absurdly long time to understand what the hell this second piece of paper means. Later, when the two of you look back on this moment (and you do so often), you’ll wonder how he could have been so dense and he’ll spin you a line about how too good to be true it all felt. But in the moment, he has no lines and no words, until your hand lands heavy on his knee this time.

“Jamie,” you say softly, through a grin that is so different from your usual that he could pass out. It’s so beautiful and so strikingly lovesick that he thinks he might actually be sick, “What do you have to tell me?”

“What?”

He feels dumber than he’s ever felt. But your hand is still on his knee and now you’re shuffling closer to him on the bench.

“What do you have to tell me?” you repeat, then you poke his chest playfully as you add, “You prick.”

He still looks confused, so you clearly decide the best way to catch him up is to kiss him.

You pull away after a moment, a moment of pure heaven, because clearly you don't want to kiss him fully until he's all clued in.

"Come on, pretty boy," you say, teasing, "Figure it out. I was going to buy you a passionfruit J2O. It's the sign of all signs."

He should be laughing at your joke, but all he really wants to do is kiss you again. And again.

Maybe again.

"Oh pretty girl," he says, and he feels the rumble of his low tone in his chest. He places a hand on your face, fingers itching at your hairline, "I'll tell you anything ya wanna hear, I swear. Anythin'."

He hears your breath hitch, but he feels it too, where the meat of his palm is covering your neck.

"Anything?" you answer back, "I could have a lot of fun with this."

You scrunch up your brow like you're thinking and he's so stupidly in love with you that he just tells you. Too-soon be damned.

"Smooth talker," you laugh, giddy, and you kiss him again. And it's so good that he doesn't even remember you didn't say it back until hours later.

(at which point, you say it back so many times and in so many ways, Jamie is certain that he's the luckiest man in the world. he might not hit Roy with his car after all)

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x you #ted lasso x reader

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celandeline · 10 months ago

Note

Hiiii bestie, can we get an angry Carl x reader, leading to smut

Yes we can!

Make It Up To You

Carl Grimes X Reader (SMUT), oneshot

“What the hell were you thinking?”

You’ve never seen Carl this mad before. Sure, you’ve seen him get mad - pissed off, sulky, more snappy than usual - but you’ve never seen this. This is something else. This has his eye brimming with rage, and an ugly curl to his lips, like he’s getting ready to spit venom.

“Anyone would have done the same!” You shoot back, brows furrowed. You don’t really understand why he’s mad at you. Going back into the department store after a bunch of walkers broke in wasn’t the smartest thing you could have done, sure, but you weren’t just going to leave Tara behind. Not when she’s saved your ass before. And you’re fine - a little scratched up from climbing through that broken window, but that's it - no bites, nothing serious.

“It was stupid, and risky, and you could’ve gotten yourself killed!” Carl spits.

Now you’re starting to get mad too - you’re tired, you haven’t really even gotten a chance to sit down since you and the rest of your run group got back, and now Carl’s in your face, almost shouting at you. “What happened to ‘we don’t leave anyone behind’?” You shoot back. “You’re saying I should have just left her there?”

“No! I’m just saying, instead of running in by yourself, you could have gone back in with the rest of the group. You know it’s stupid to go anywhere on your own, you could have at least asked someone to watch your back, or draw some of them away or something.” He says.

“Sorry - there wasn’t a whole lot of time to draw up a plan before she would’ve gotten eaten.” You snark back at him. “And, in case you haven’t noticed,” You gesture down to the rest of yourself. “I’m perfectly fine. I can handle myself.”

“Couldn’t handle asking for backup, apparently.” He says, icy blue gaze boring into you.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You ask. “It’s fine - I’m fine, Tara’s fine, everyone got back safe. Yes, I could have died, I know, I don’t need you lecturing me about the risks-”

“Maybe you do, ‘cause it seems like you forgot-” He cuts you off.

“Fuck off.” You spit, turning around to head back to your house. You don’t need this right now - you just got back from risking your ass to get supplies for the town, and yeah, there were a couple really close calls when you went back in to save Tara. All you wanted to do was go home, take a shower, get a fresh change of clothes. But instead, you got an angry Carl Grimes trying to lecture you about shit you already know. You don’t even know why he cares so much - sure, you’re friends, but the way he was so angry-

“Where are you going?”

You roll your eyes at the sound of him following you, and don’t bother to turn around to look at him. “Home.”

He falls into step beside you, still glaring at you from under the rim of his hat. “You can’t just walk away in the middle of a conversation-”

“Didn’t feel like a conversation to me.” You interrupt him. “Felt like you were just shouting at me about how stupid I am.”

“I didn’t-” He starts. “That’s not- I wasn’t trying to say that you’re dumb-”

“Well, you did. Quite a few times, actually.” You cut him off, heading up the steps to your porch. You turn around to face him once you get to the door. “Look, Carl, I’m really not in the mood to keep doing this right now-”

“I don’t think you’re dumb.” He says, the anger in his voice turning into urgency. “And I’m not trying to say that you’re weak or can’t handle yourself, or that you shouldn’t have gone back to save Tara, but it was risky. Too risky, and it didn’t have to be, and if it had gone bad, I don’t-” His voice cracks, and he stops himself.

You wait for a moment for him to continue, and when he doesn’t, you roll your eyes. “Careful,” You snark. “It almost sounded like you were going to say something nice about me. If you’re done, I’m gonna go shower-”

His lips are on yours before you can really realize what’s happening, and on instinct you pull away. “Carl.” You say, brow furrowed as you look him in the eye, searching for… something, to explain what the fuck is going on.

“If you died, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.” He says, lips only an inch away from yours. All the anger in him has turned into pleading, his eyes wide, searching your gaze the same as you search his.

“So, what, you shout at me the moment I get home?” You ask.

“I’m sorry.” He says. “Really. I just- I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you. Please.”

Most of the time, you find the extravagance of the houses in Alexandria a little annoying. It only serves as a reminder to before, how your mom used to cut out pictures of places like this to scrapbook into her future plans journal. It only serves as a reminder to how much your dad would grumble about ‘rich people shit’ when he got home from the construction site.

Now though, you find yourself a little grateful for the heated flooring in the ensuite master bathroom, and the spacious glass shower. The glass is almost completely covered with steam from the hot water cascading out of the showerhead, and you can only see the faintest reflection of yourself, back against the tile as Carl fucks you.

He’s propped up above you, watching you reverently as his hair drips water onto your cheeks. You keep running your hands through the wet strands, trailing your fingernails across the nape of his neck to make him shiver, despite the heat of the shower.

“Fuck.” He gasps, dropping down to press his chest against yours and tuck his head into the crook of your neck.

“Mmm.” You return, taking the opportunity to mouth at the side of his neck, gently sinking your teeth into the skin there. He moans again, and his hips stutter against yours, briefly losing his rhythm before regaining it. You trail your lips upward to bite at the lobe of his ear, and grin when he falters again.

“Stop doing that.” He pants, pulling his head out of the crook of your neck to look down at you again.

“Why?” You ask, winding your arms around his shoulders to tug him down for a quick kiss. “I can tell you like it-”

“I’m supposed to be the one - mm, fuck - making it up to you, not the other way around.” He says.

“You already picked - ah - all of the walker guts out of my hair, I think your debt is paid.”

He shakes his head, little droplets of water flying out of his hair. “Not until I make you cum.”

He throws himself back into fucking you with his full focus, burying his head back into the crook of your neck to mouth at your collarbones, panting heavy against your skin. You let your eyes flutter shut, enjoying the ride. It’s good - surprisingly. He’s done this before, you think - Enid, probably - enough times to know what works and what doesn’t, and if he keeps going at the rate he is, he might actually get you to finish without you having to help him along.

“You’re so pretty.” He says, breathy against your skin.

You open your eyes again, and run a hand up his spine, causing him to arch into you. “You should’ve just - fuck,” You gasp at a particularly hard thrust. “Told me you liked me.”

“Probably.” He agrees. “Didn’t - mm - want you to say no though.”

“I think it’s pretty obvious I wouldn’t have.” You breathe, winding a hand into his hair again, holding him against you as the coil in your stomach tightens.

“How was I supposed to, ah, know?” He asks, lifting his head out of your neck.

“Could’ve asked-” You tip your head back against the tile as you feel yourself nearing the edge. “Fuck, Carl-”

He groans, low in the base of his throat, and speeds up his thrusts, snapping his hips against yours. “Please,” He moans. “Please, please-”

You sigh as you cum, and pull him down against you. You’re more relaxed than you’ve ever been as you come down, between the sex and the heat of the shower around you. Carl doesn’t take too long to follow, letting out a few more hiccuping moans before he pulls out, shooting his cum onto the floor of the shower. You watch it get carried away down the drain as you catch your breath.

Carl plops himself down on the floor of the shower next to you with a satisfied smile. “Good?”

“Very.” You agree, pulling yourself up from where you were sprawled on the floor.

A moment passes between you, the only sound is that of the shower water hitting the tile, and you take a minute to just look at him, taking in just how pretty he is.

“Sorry again.” He says, breaking the silence. “For yelling at you. And, um, not telling you that I liked you.”

“S’okay.” You say, because it is. “We got there, eventually.”

He laughs a little. “Yeah.”

You grin at him. “We’re going to have to clean off again.”

“That’s alright with me.” He says, returning your smile.

#carl grimes x reader #carl grimes smut #carl grimes #twd #the walking dead

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